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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Lost Sister, by Virginia Brooks
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Little Lost Sister
+
+Author: Virginia Brooks
+
+Release Date: June 12, 2008 [EBook #25772]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE LOST SISTER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+                           Little Lost Sister
+
+-------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+  "It isn't always the costume of women of fashion ... or the blazing
+  resplendent show-window that tempts Little Lost Sisters. It is more
+  often just the human need for love and shelter ... the lack of a
+  friendly handclasp that shall lighten tomorrow's labor ... the
+  sympathy and understanding that breeds hope"
+
+-------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+                           LITTLE LOST SISTER
+
+                                   By
+                            VIRGINIA BROOKS
+
+                               Author of
+                         "MY BATTLES WITH VICE"
+
+                                New York
+                          THE MACAULAY COMPANY
+
+-------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+                            COPYRIGHT, 1914,
+
+                                   By
+                  F. A. P. GAZZOLO AND R. E. RICKSEN,
+
+                          All Rights Reserved
+
+-------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+                                CONTENTS
+
+        CHAPTER                                             PAGE
+
+                 Prologue                                     13
+
+              I  At the Button Mill                           17
+
+             II  Seeing Millville                             27
+
+            III  Enter a Detective                            37
+
+             IV  Harvey Meets "A Dealer in Cattle"            49
+
+              V  A Serpent Whispers and a Woman Listens       57
+
+             VI  A Romance Dawns--and a Tragedy               67
+
+            VII  Harry Boland Hears from His Father           77
+
+           VIII  The Death of Tom Welcome                     85
+
+             IX  In Which Some of Chicago's Best People
+                 Essay a Task Too Big for Them                95
+
+              X  The Adventures of a Newspaper Story         115
+
+             XI  A Bomb for Mr. Grogan                       133
+
+            XII  Bad News from Millville                     145
+
+           XIII  The Reader Meets Another Old Acquaintance   155
+
+            XIV  In Which the Wolf is Bitten by the Lamb     165
+
+             XV  The Search Begins for the Lost Sister       173
+
+            XVI  John Boland Meets Mary Randall              185
+
+           XVII  The Cafe Sinister                           203
+
+          XVIII  Lost in the Levee                           219
+
+            XIX  Mary Randall Goes to Live in a Wolf's Den   229
+
+             XX  Druce Signs a Significant Document          241
+
+            XXI  Druce Proves a True Prophet                 253
+
+           XXII  "The Mills of the Gods"                     261
+
+          XXIII  After the Tragedy                           271
+
+           XXIV  "The Highway of the Upright"                277
+
+            XXV  The Interests Versus Mary Randall           289
+
+           XXVI  Out on Bail                                 297
+
+          XXVII  Harvey Spencer Takes up the Trail           305
+
+         XXVIII  The Forces That Conquer                     317
+
+           XXIX  The Call of Eternity                        329
+
+            XXX  At the Wedding Feast                        335
+
+           XXXI  With the Roses of Love                      345
+
+          XXXII  At Mary Randall's Summer Home               353
+
+                 Afterward                                   359
+
+
+-------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+
+
+
+                           LITTLE LOST SISTER
+
+                                PROLOGUE
+
+
+They came up suddenly over a bit of rising ground, the mill-owner and his
+friend the writer and student of modern industries, and stood in full
+view of the factory. The air was sweet with scent of apple-blossoms. A
+song sparrow trilled in the poplar tree.
+
+"What do you think of our factory?" asked the man of business and of
+success, turning his keen, aggressive face towards his companion.
+
+The other, the dreamer, waited for moments without speaking, carefully
+weighing the word, then he answered,
+
+"Horrible."
+
+"My dear fellow!" The owner's voice showed that he was really grieved.
+"Why horrible?"
+
+"Your mill is a crime against Nature. Look how it violates that
+landscape. Look how it stands there gaunt and tawdry against these fresh
+green meadows edged round with billowy white clouds that herald summer.
+And you are proud of it. Could you not have found some arid waste for
+this factory? Can't you see how Nature cries out against this outrage?
+Can't you see that she has dedicated this country to seed-time and
+harvest,--these verdant fields, deep woods and brooding streams?"
+
+"The Millville people wanted our factory. They paid us a subsidy to bring
+it here."
+
+"Blind, too!" The dreamer looked backward at the town. "They tell me that
+the founders there called their village Farmington. Have you ever
+reflected what a change you are working in the lives of these people by
+substituting industrialism for agriculture? Have you thought of the moral
+transformations such a substitution must work among them?"
+
+"We are not responsible for their morals," the mill-owner answered,
+impatiently. "We have spared nothing to make our factory up to date. The
+mill meets all the demands of modern hygiene and sanitation. We do that
+for them."
+
+His friend was silent for a time.
+
+"Your employes here are chiefly women, very young women," he said at
+last.
+
+"Yes, we have two hundred girls," replied the mill-owner.
+
+"What is your highest wage for a girl?"
+
+"Eight dollars a week."
+
+Again the younger man was silent. Then he took his friend's arm within
+his own.
+
+"These girls are the mothers of tomorrow. To an extent the destinies of
+our race depend upon them. Your factory places upon you tremendous
+responsibilities."
+
+"We are growing to realize our responsibilities more and more," said the
+man of business and of success gravely. "Perhaps we do not realize them
+keenly enough. It is the fault of the times."
+
+"Yes, it is the fault of the times. Life, honor, virtue itself trampled
+down in the rush for the dollar."
+
+"I believe that a change is coming, though slowly. I believe that the day
+will come when we owners of mills will regard it as a disgraceful thing
+for our corporations to declare a dividend while notoriously underpaying
+our employes."
+
+"Yes, and perhaps the day is coming, too, when the employer who maintains
+conditions in his mills that subtly undermine the virtue of his women
+workers will be regarded as a public enemy."
+
+"No doubt, but that time is a long way ahead!"
+
+"We must look to the future," said his friend. "We must work for the
+future, too!"
+
+
+
+
+                                CHAPTER I
+
+                           AT THE BUTTON MILL
+
+
+Elsie Welcome was the one girl in the big machine room of the Millville
+button factory who did not rise when the bell sounded for the short
+afternoon recess. She swung on her revolving stool away from her machine
+and looked eagerly, thirstingly towards the windows where the other girls
+were crowding for breath of the fresh June air, but she did not stir to
+follow them. A resolution stronger than her own keen need of the
+recreation moments was singling out this young girl from among her two
+hundred companions, laughing and talking together.
+
+"I will speak to Mr. Kemble now--now," she promised herself, watching for
+the foreman to enter the machine room, according to his daily custom at
+this hour. Elsie nerved herself to a task difficult to perform, even
+after her three years of work in the factory, even though she was one of
+the most skilful workers here.
+
+She drew up her charmingly modeled little figure tensely, and held her
+small head high, her pure, beautiful features aglow with delicate color,
+her slender, shapely hands clasping and unclasping each other.
+
+The foreman came into the room. Elsie rose from her place and went to
+meet him, pushing back the pretty tendrils of her hair.
+
+"Mr. Kemble," she said, "I should like to speak to you a moment."
+
+Hiram Kemble was a tall, thin young man, deeply conscious of his own
+importance and responsibilities. He had risen by assiduous devotion to
+the details of button making from office boy to his present exalted
+state. His mind had become a mere filing cabinet for information
+concerning the button business.
+
+He stood regarding the girl before him, feeling the attraction of her
+beauty and resenting it. He did not dislike her; he did not understand
+her, and it was his nature to distrust what he did not understand.
+
+"Well," he said, with professional brusqueness, "what is it?"
+
+"I wanted to ask you to--to--" Elsie hesitated, then went on with
+courage, "to raise my wages."
+
+He looked at her in amazement, displeased. "How much are you getting
+now?"
+
+"Only eight dollars a week."
+
+"Only!" Hiram Kemble was satirical. "That's as much as the others are
+getting."
+
+"I know it. But it's not enough. Our expenses are heavy. My mother has
+begun to--to--" Elsie choked. "My mother is compelled to take in washing.
+She's not strong enough for such heavy work."
+
+"Your sister has a good job."
+
+"She earns only nine dollars."
+
+"Your father--"
+
+Tears sprang to Elsie's eyes, but she would not let them fall. "He's not
+earning anything."
+
+"I know." Kemble spoke accusingly. "He is drinking."
+
+Elsie showed a flash of spirit: "That's not my fault!"
+
+"Just so. But you can't hold the Millville Button Company responsible for
+your father's misbehavior."
+
+"Is there any chance for me to get more pay?" There was a note of despair
+in her question.
+
+"Not the least chance in the world. You are getting our maximum wage for
+women. I couldn't raise your pay if I wanted to without being specially
+authorized to do so by our board of directors."
+
+"And I can never earn--never get any more here?"
+
+"No."
+
+The minute hand of the electric clock pushed forward. Again a bell
+sounded. Two hundred American girls who had had a few moments' respite
+came trooping wearily back to their places at the machines.
+
+At the clang of the bell Kemble walked up the room. Elsie went back to
+her place drooping; she wore a beaten air as if he had struck her
+visibly.
+
+The girls on either hand spoke to her as they slipped into their places,
+but she did not hear them. Hours of swift work followed. The machines
+whirred and the deft hands of the girls flew. These button workers had
+nearly all been recruited from the district around Millville. With rare
+exceptions they were descendants of the hardy Americans who had founded
+the town while it was still called Farmington. The founders had passed
+away. The outside world had pressed around the village until its people
+longed to play a more active role in the world. It had seemed a great day
+when the button factory came, and the town name was changed to Millville.
+
+Now these daughters of the strong elder race were factory workers. The
+world had been made better by an output of thousands of shiny new buttons
+when at last the six o'clock whistle blew on this bright June day.
+
+Elsie Welcome got up from her machine and picked up her hat listlessly.
+She walked to a window and looked out. Suddenly animation came into her
+face. A young man waved a handkerchief from an automobile which spun by
+on the gray turnpike below the mill. Elsie waved her handkerchief in
+return.
+
+Kemble, watching the girl from across the room, saw the episode. He
+hurried across to her, with the air of pouncing on a victim.
+
+"We'll have none of that here, Miss Welcome," he said. "If you have to
+flirt, don't flirt on the company's premises."
+
+She turned upon him indignantly. "I am not flirting! That gentleman is a
+friend of mine."
+
+Kemble sneered. "Oh, he is a friend, is he? Where does a factory girl
+like you meet men who ride in automobiles?"
+
+Elsie flushed scarlet; she bit her quivering lips.
+
+"Ashamed to tell where you met him, are you?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean I'm responsible to my employers for the character of the girls I
+employ here."
+
+Elsie looked her contempt of him. She laughed a little low scornful laugh
+which made Kemble thoroughly angry.
+
+"Look here, my girl," he said. "You don't know when you're well off. You
+are too independent." His tone of anger roused her temper, but she held
+herself in leash and answered with cold politeness:
+
+"Mr. Kemble, when I feel myself getting independent, the first thing I
+shall do will be to get away from the Millville button factory."
+
+Kemble was ready to retreat now. The interview was getting beyond his
+expectation. Elsie was one of the company's fastest workers. He could not
+afford to have her throw up her place. He did not want to lose her.
+
+"Oh, but you like the factory, Miss Welcome," he said in a suddenly
+pacific tone.
+
+"Like--the--factory! I hate it," returned the girl, all her pent-up
+wrongs finding expression. "I hate the mill and everything about it. Do
+you suppose any girl could like the prospect of being bottled up in this
+hole year after year for eight dollars a week? Why, some day, Mr. Kemble,
+I expect to pay eight dollars for a hat, for just one hat."
+
+"So that's it," said Kemble, "fine feathers, eh? I know, you're like a
+lot of other girls who have come and gone in this factory. You've heard
+of Chicago's bright lights and you want to singe your wings in them. Let
+me tell you something, my girl, girls in your position don't get eight
+dollar hats without paying for them and if they haven't got the money
+they give something else. They give--"
+
+"Stop," ordered the girl. "You shan't say that to me. I don't believe it.
+You can't convince me that there isn't something better in life for a
+girl like me than Millville and eight dollars a week."
+
+"I pity your ignorance," said Kemble, loftily.
+
+"It's not ignorance to want something better than this," replied Elsie.
+"Why should you taunt me with ignorance, anyway? What do you know about
+the world? You're just a foreman in a little country mill and because you
+are satisfied with a narrow little life like that you think everyone else
+ought to be."
+
+The truth in this goaded Kemble into violation of rule number twelve for
+button factory foremen which exhorts such employes to be polite to women
+workers.
+
+"Why the devil don't you go to Chicago and be done with it then?" he
+demanded. "You're one of these people that has to learn by experience."
+He sneered at her. "Perhaps you can get your friend in the auto to take
+you. Why don't you try it?"
+
+Tears rushed to the girl's eyes. She began fastening on her hat to
+conceal her emotion.
+
+"I'm going to Chicago," she muttered, "just as soon as I am able. Nothing
+there can be much worse than being compelled to work in Millville under
+you. Good gracious," she added maliciously, after giving him a thorough
+inspection, "it's no use to stand here arguing with you."
+
+With this taunt Miss Elsie gave her hat a final adjustment, then, leaving
+Mr. Hiram Kemble speechless with rage and injured dignity, she walked out
+of the factory door.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER II
+
+                            SEEING MILLVILLE
+
+
+The distance from the Millville button factory to the corner of Main and
+Pine streets in Millville itself is, if you take the short cut through
+Nutting's Grove, as all sensible Millvillians do, a five minutes' walk.
+If the reader, touring Millville in search of the beginnings of this
+story, will make that journey in his imagination he will find himself
+standing on the rough board walk in front of John Price's general store.
+
+From her eminence on the top of one of Mr. John Price's high stools
+Patience Welcome glanced up from the ledger over which she was toiling,
+put the blunt end of her pen into her mouth and looked out into the
+street drenched in sunshine. A half dozen farmers' horses, moored to the
+hitching rack in front of the store, threshed restlessly with their tails
+at enthusiastic banqueting flies, newborn into a world that seemed to be
+filled with juicy horses.
+
+The scene did not interest Patience. Her glance went on across the street
+where an overdressed young man, just alighted from an automobile, stood
+surveying his surroundings. His eyes met hers. He removed his hat with an
+elaborate bow. The girl, a little piqued and a little amused, reached
+over very quietly and drew down the window curtain. Then she resumed
+operations on the ledger with the sharp end of the pen.
+
+Patience Welcome, like her sister, was dark of hair and eyes. Her hair,
+too, had the quality of forming into tendrils about her cheeks which
+glowed with a happy, if not a robust, healthfulness. But there the
+resemblance ended. The two girls were widely different personalities.
+Elsie, the younger, was impetuous by nature, imaginative, and easily
+swept off her mental balance by her emotions. She was ambitious, too, and
+Millville did not please her. Patience, no less imaginative, perhaps,
+possessed a stronger hold upon herself. She admired her daring sister,
+but she was sensible of the dangers of such daring and did not imitate
+her. She possessed the great gift of contentedness. It colored all her
+thoughts, created pleasant places for her in what, to Elsie, seemed a
+desolate life; it made Millville not only a bearable but even a happy
+place to live in. Millville understood Patience and loved her; Elsie,
+being less understandable, was less popular.
+
+It had been a busy day in John Price's store and Patience was entering in
+her books items from a pile of bills on the desk before her. It was five
+minutes after her usual leaving time, but the girl accepted extra duty
+with a cheerfulness that was part of her nature.
+
+In the midst of her work there was a bustle at the back of the store.
+John Price, local merchant prince and owner of this establishment, had
+returned from the yard at the rear of the store where he had been
+superintending the storing of goods, arrived on the late afternoon train.
+He was a wiry little old man of sixty, abrupt, nervous, irritable and
+given to sharpness of speech which, he was profoundly convinced, hid from
+outside perception a heart given to unbusinesslike tenderness. He busied
+himself noisily about the shelves for a few minutes, then suddenly stuck
+his head through the door of the little office in which Patience was
+working.
+
+"What," he said, "you here? Get out. Go home."
+
+"I'll be through in a few minutes," rejoined Patience, without taking her
+eyes from her figures.
+
+"Tush," said Mr. Price. "What are you trying to do, give me a bad name
+with my trade? People will think I'm a slave driver. Get out."
+
+"In just a minute," smiled Patience.
+
+"Go home, I say," almost shouted Price. He took off his alpaca coat and
+hung it on a nail. Then he stepped up suddenly behind Patience, took the
+pen deliberately from her hand and pushed her off the stool.
+
+"Must I throw you out?" he demanded. "Must I? Must I, eh?"
+
+He pointed towards the door.
+
+"All right, Mr. Price," said Patience submissively, gathering up her
+bills and thrusting them into a drawer.
+
+"Hurry," said Price. "You'll be late for your supper."
+
+"No, I won't," returned Patience, putting on her jacket and hat. "This is
+wash day at our house. Supper is always late on wash day."
+
+"Wash day, eh? Then you ought to be home helping your mother."
+
+"Elsie will help mother," replied Patience quietly.
+
+"Are you sure about that?" demanded Mr. Price.
+
+"Of course, I'm sure, Mr. Price," said Patience, hurt.
+
+"Well," said Mr. Price, "I'm not so sure. But don't stand here arguing. I
+haven't any time to argue with a snip of a girl like you. Get out. Go
+home!"
+
+Patience, still a little hurt by her employer's expressed doubt about her
+sister, started for the front door. Looking out, she saw the overdressed
+young man with the automobile still standing across the street. He saw
+her, too, and waved his cigarette. Patience turned back into the store.
+
+"Girl," demanded Mr. Price, his patience now seemingly exhausted, "where
+in the devil are you going?"
+
+"Out the back way, if you please, Mr. Price."
+
+Mr. Price got up deliberately from the stool which he had occupied as
+soon as Patience had vacated it and looked out of the front door.
+
+"The young whelp," he said, apostrophizing the overdressed youth with the
+cigarette. Then to Patience: "Dodging him, eh? Now don't blush, girl. I
+don't blame him for looking at you. You're worth looking at. But you show
+mighty good sense in keeping away from him."
+
+"Why, Mr. Price, I--" Patience stammered.
+
+"O, that's all right, dodge him, keep him guessing. One of those freshies
+from the city, eh? Well, there's mighty little good in 'em. Give your ma
+my best regards. Tell her she's got a fine daughter. Good night."
+
+Patience left the store by the rear door and started briskly for her
+home. She had gone but a block when she heard a wagon rumbling behind her
+and a voice called out:
+
+"'Lo, there, Patience, late, ain't you?"
+
+It was Harvey Spencer, ambitious "all round" clerk, hostler, collector
+for Millville's leading grocer. He drove a roan colt which went rather
+skittishly. There was an older man in the wagon with him. Harvey drew up
+the colt beside Patience with a vociferous "Whoa."
+
+"Yes," replied Patience, "I'm a little late. Lots of business these days,
+Harvey?"
+
+"You bet," he retorted, "Millville is flourishing. We'll soon have a real
+city here. Oh, Miss Welcome, let me make you acquainted with my friend,
+Mr. Michael Grogan of Chicago."
+
+Patience accepted the introduction with flushed reserve.
+
+"I'm right glad to know you," stated Mr. Grogan, removing his hat
+gallantly and wiping a perspiring brow with his handkerchief. "But let me
+tell you I don't think much of your friend, Harvey Spencer. Sure, I've
+been riding with him for two hours and you're the first pleasant object
+he's shown me. And such a ride! It's a certainty that this young fellow
+knows every bump and thank-ye-ma'am in the village and he's taken me full
+speed over all of them. I feel like I'd been churned. But I'll forgive
+him all that now--now that he's shown me you."
+
+There was a sincerity in Mr. Grogan's raillery that swept away Patience's
+reserve. Besides, he was over fifty.
+
+"Sure," she said, slyly imitating Mr. Grogan's brogue, "you've been
+kissing the blarney stone, Mr. Grogan."
+
+"Will ye listen to that now?" said Grogan enthusiastically, as he started
+to clamber off the wagon.
+
+"Sit still, Mr. Grogan," said Harvey, laughing.
+
+"But didn't you hear her, man alive? Sure, she's Irish--"
+
+"No, I'm not," put in Patience, "but I've heard of the blarney stone."
+
+"Look at that, now," said Grogan, returning to his seat with an air of
+keen disappointment. "And I was just longin' to see someone from the Ould
+Sod. I thought--"
+
+"How do you like riding with Harvey?" inquired Patience, changing the
+subject.
+
+"Well," said Grogan plaintively, "if I were twenty years younger maybe it
+would be good exercise, but with my years, Miss, 'tis just plain
+exhausting."
+
+Here Harvey started the roan colt off again. "See you later," he called
+back to Patience, "I'm stopping at your house."
+
+"So that's Tom Welcome's daughter, is it?" said Grogan as they got out of
+hearing.
+
+"That's one of them," said Harvey, "but you ought to see the other."
+
+"The old man now," went on Grogan, "is a good deal of a lush."
+
+"The girls can't help what their father is," retorted Harvey, bridling.
+
+"I know, I know," went on Mr. Grogan. "Such things happen in the best of
+families."
+
+"No, and you can't blame Tom Welcome much, either," went on Harvey. "He
+was drove to drink. He invented an electrical machine that would have
+made a fortune for him and some one stole it from him. It wasn't the loss
+of the money that sent him to the devil, either. He'd spent a lifetime on
+his machine and just when he was getting it patented, some smart thief in
+Chicago takes it away from him. That's what I call tough luck."
+
+"They're hard up, you say?" pursued Grogan.
+
+Harvey, unconscious that he had said nothing of the sort, admitted that
+the Welcomes were in financial straits. "Their mother has to take in
+washing," he said, "and both the girls work. It's too bad, for they ought
+to be getting an education."
+
+The roan colt came to an abrupt stop. They were in front of a small
+cottage. Grogan surveyed the place for a moment and then turned to his
+jehu. "And what might you be stopping here for?" he inquired.
+
+Harvey paused with one foot on the step of the wagon and looked up at
+Grogan gravely.
+
+"This is Tom Welcome's cottage," he said.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER III
+
+                            ENTER A DETECTIVE
+
+
+While Harvey Spencer was climbing down from his wagon Mr. Michael Grogan,
+who was not exactly the guileless soul Millville took him to be,
+permitted himself rather a close inspection of the Welcome premises.
+There was nothing imposing about them. The cottage was old and obviously
+in need of repair. The fence which surrounded it had been repaired in
+places, apparently by someone who had small interest in the job. The
+little patch of ground in front, however, was decorated with a neatly
+kept vegetable garden bordered with flowers. The stone step at the
+cottage entrance was immaculate. Mr. Grogan was shrewd enough to indulge
+himself in the speculation that whatever Tom Welcome might be his wife
+was a careful housekeeper.
+
+Mrs. Welcome was standing in her open door and Grogan studied her with a
+curiosity not entirely disinterested. Her figure was frail and slightly
+bowed. Her hair, as it showed in the deepening dusk was almost white. Her
+features had delicacy like those of the daughter Grogan had just met. She
+was wiping her hands on a gingham apron. They were hands of a hard
+working woman.
+
+"Hello, Mrs. Welcome, nice day, ain't it?" called Harvey as he came
+through the gate.
+
+"Yes, it is nice, isn't it, Harvey?" replied Martha Welcome. "I hadn't
+noticed it before, I've been so busy with the washing."
+
+The woman's voice, Mr. Grogan noted, held a note of sadness.
+
+"Seems to me," said Harvey, dropping his voice and speaking with the
+assurance of an old family friend, "that if I had two girls like your
+Elsie and Patience, I'd see that they helped out with the washing."
+
+"How can they help me?" replied Mrs. Welcome. "Patience is up early every
+morning and off to Mr. Price's store and Elsie is at the mill all day."
+
+"That's so," said Harvey, "I didn't think, but surely they might--"
+
+"Oh, they help a lot," broke in Mrs. Welcome, hurriedly. "They do all
+their ironing at night. And that's all anyone could ask of them after
+they come home tired from their work."
+
+"Well, I'm glad to hear it. Your two girls always do look nice."
+
+"Thank you, Harvey."
+
+"But Mrs. Welcome--"
+
+"Yes, Harvey?"
+
+"Don't you think--" Harvey stopped and looked about hesitatingly,--"Ah,
+don't you think it would be just as well if Elsie didn't see quite as
+much of this Chicago fellow?"
+
+"Do you mean Mr. Druce?" inquired Mrs. Welcome.
+
+"I do. Of course, he's all right--" Harvey again hesitated and puckered
+his lips thoughtfully. "He wears fine clothing, patent leather shoes,
+sports a diamond ring, but it seems to me Elsie's different somehow since
+that Martin Druce began to hang around."
+
+Mrs. Welcome laughed softly. There was a glint of humor in her eyes. "I
+guess you're jealous, aren't you, Harvey?"
+
+"Well, say I am," agreed Harvey. "Never mind that. Is it a good thing for
+Elsie?"
+
+"Elsie's a good girl," replied Mrs. Welcome.
+
+"She sure is, Mrs. Welcome. That's why I want her to be Mrs. Harvey
+Spencer."
+
+Mrs. Welcome opened her eyes wide at this statement and looked kindly at
+the stout young man before her.
+
+"You mean it, Harvey?" she demanded.
+
+"I'm so much in earnest," he replied, fumbling in his pocket, "that I've
+got the ring right here."
+
+He produced a plain gold wedding ring nestling in a white velvet case.
+Mrs. Welcome uttered a little cry of gladness. She believed in Harvey,
+who, incidentally, was all he pretended to be.
+
+"O, I know I ain't much," went on Harvey, "just a clerk in a small town
+store, but I've got ambitions. Look at all the great men! Where did they
+begin? At the bottom."
+
+Harvey paused. Then he looked all about him carefully and, satisfied with
+this survey, leaned confidentially toward Mrs. Welcome and whispered:
+
+"Say, can you keep a secret, Mrs. Welcome?"
+
+"I guess so," replied Mrs. Welcome smiling. "Try me, Harvey."
+
+"All right, I'm going to be a detective," Harvey announced proudly.
+
+"You are, Harvey?" was the astonished reply.
+
+"Just watch me," Harvey went on. "I'm taking a correspondence school
+course. Here are some of my lessons." He took some closely typewritten
+sheets of paper from his pocket. "Ever notice how broad I am between the
+eyes?" he demanded.
+
+"I can't say that I have," said Mrs. Welcome.
+
+"Well, I am, and it's one of the signs, so they say, of the born
+detective. Listen here a moment."
+
+He unfolded the bulky pages and read grandly:
+
+"'Always be observant of even the smallest trifles. A speck of dust may
+be an important clew to a murder.'"
+
+"Harvey!" cried Mrs. Welcome.
+
+"Don't be frightened, Mrs. Welcome, just wanted to show you that I mean
+business." Harvey paused for a moment and regarded her steadily. Then he
+pointed his finger at her accusingly as he said: "I knew you were washing
+before you told me!"
+
+"You did, Harvey?"
+
+"Sure, because you had suds on your apron where you dried your hands." He
+drew a deep sigh and threw out his chest. "There," he said. "Oh, I guess
+I'm bad at these lessons, eh?"
+
+"You're a good boy, Harvey," replied Mrs. Welcome, indulgently.
+
+"Thank you." He bowed. "Oh, perhaps my future mother-in-law and I aren't
+going to get along fine," he announced to the world in general,
+exultingly.
+
+The roan colt interrupted this rhapsody by pawing impatiently at the
+ground. Harvey took his order book from his pocket and stuck his stub of
+lead pencil in his mouth.
+
+"Well," he inquired, "how about orders, Mrs. Welcome?"
+
+"We--we--need some flour," was the hesitating reply.
+
+"A barrel?" suggested Harvey, turning to a fresh page of his order book.
+
+"No--no--no--I--I guess ten pounds, and--I guess that's about all,
+Harvey."
+
+"Now you'll excuse me if I doubt your word, Mrs. Welcome," said Harvey,
+writing down fifty pounds of flour quickly. "Come now, tell me what you
+do really want."
+
+"O, what's the use. We need everything, we--" Mrs. Welcome broke down and
+began to weep softly as she turned toward the house.
+
+"Now hold on, Mrs. Welcome, don't break away from me like that!" Harvey
+followed her and laid his hand gently on her arm. "I hope Mr. Welcome
+isn't drinking again. Is he?"
+
+"I'm afraid so, Harvey." Mrs. Welcome's frail shoulders quivered as she
+attempted to restrain her sobs. "Why, Tom hasn't been home for two days
+and--and our rent is due--and--"
+
+Harvey Spencer interrupted with a prolonged whistle which seemed to be
+the best way he could think of expressing sympathy. A light dawned on
+him.
+
+"That's why young Harry Boland is here from Chicago, to collect the rent,
+eh?" he inquired.
+
+Mrs. Welcome nodded assent, "Yes," she said, "Mr. Boland has been very
+kind. He has waited two weeks and--and--we can't pay him."
+
+"Why not let me--" suggested Harvey, putting his hand into his pocket.
+Mrs. Welcome checked him with a quick movement. "No, Harvey, please. I
+don't want you to do that," she said. "I wouldn't feel right about it
+somehow."
+
+"Just as you say, Mrs. Welcome." Harvey was rather diffident and
+hesitated to press a loan on her. To change the subject he said: "Young
+Mr. Boland seems taken up with Patience."
+
+"I hadn't noticed it," said Mrs. Welcome, drying her eyes.
+
+"O, we detectives have to keep our eyes open," acclaimed Harvey with
+another burst of pride.
+
+But here Michael Grogan interrupted. "Young man," he called out from the
+roadway, "are you really taking orders or is this one of your visiting
+days?" He tied the colt and came into the yard.
+
+"Hello," said Harvey, "getting tired of waiting?"
+
+"Well, I felt myself growing to that hitching post," said Grogan, "so I
+tied that bunch of nerves you have out there and moved before I took
+root."
+
+Harvey laughed and turned to Mrs. Welcome. "This is Mr. Michael Grogan,
+Mrs. Welcome," he said.
+
+Mrs. Welcome backed away toward the porch, removing her apron. "Good
+afternoon, sir," she greeted him. "I hope you are well?"
+
+"Well," said Grogan, "I was before this young marauder cajoled me into
+leaving me arm chair on the hotel veranda to go bumping over these
+roads."
+
+Mrs. Welcome smiled and extended her hand. "I'm very glad to know you,
+Mr. Grogan. You mustn't mind Harvey's impetuous ways. He's all right
+here." She placed her hand on her heart.
+
+"I'll go bail he is that if you say so, Mrs. Welcome," replied Grogan
+gallantly, "anyhow I'll take him on your word."
+
+"Just ready to go, Mr. Grogan, when you called," put in Harvey. Then he
+caught Mrs. Welcome by the arm and bustled her into the house, saying:
+"And I'll see that you get all of those things, Mrs. Welcome, flour, corn
+meal, tomatoes, beans, lard--" and in spite of her protestations he
+closed the door on her with a parting: "Everything on the first delivery
+tomorrow morning sure." Then he added to Grogan, who stood smiling with a
+look of comprehension on his face, "All right. Ready to go."
+
+"It's about time," commented Grogan as they went toward the wagon. "Don't
+think I'm too inquisitive if I ask who are these Welcomes anyhow?"
+
+"People who are having a tough time," replied Harvey, unhitching his
+colt. "Tom Welcome used to be quite a man. He had that invention I was
+telling you about, an electric lamp. He was done out of it and went to
+the booze for consolation."
+
+"So," murmured Grogan, half to himself, "Two girls in the family, eh?"
+
+"Yes, that was one of them you met just before we came here."
+
+"The pretty one?"
+
+"Yes, and they're the best ever," added Harvey, antagonized by something
+he sensed in his companion's manner.
+
+Grogan turned to him smiling. "There," he said, "don't get hot about it.
+Nobody doubts that, meself least of all. Ain't I Irish? It's the first
+article of every Irishman's creed to believe that all women, old or
+young, pretty or otherwise, all of them are just--good."
+
+Harvey seized the older man's hand and shook it vigorously. Then looking
+up the road he said:
+
+"Here comes Elsie Welcome, I think. I want you to meet her."
+
+"Ah," retorted Grogan. He turned and looked at Elsie closely. She ran
+rapidly down the pathway toward the gate. She saw them, paused, walked
+more slowly and came up to them apparently in confusion.
+
+"Why, hello Harv! What are you doing here so late?" she asked. Without
+waiting for a reply she started toward the gate flinging back a short
+"Good night."
+
+The girl's whole manner indicated a guilty conscience. It was evident
+that she did not wish to talk to Harvey Spencer. She passed through the
+gate toward the door of her home.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER IV
+
+                    HARVEY MEETS "A DEALER IN CATTLE"
+
+
+Harvey threw the reins into Grogan's lap and strode recklessly after
+Elsie. His good-natured face was flushed with anger.
+
+"Say," he demanded, "what's the matter?"
+
+The girl, unwilling, halted. "Nothing," she replied, "what makes you ask
+that?"
+
+"Why," explained Harvey, hiding his anger and attempting to take her
+hand, "you're out of breath."
+
+"Been running," was the girl's laconic explanation.
+
+"You don't usually run home from the mill, Elsie," Harvey's detective
+instinct was showing itself.
+
+Elsie was extremely irritated by this unwished for interview.
+
+"Well, I--" she stammered, "I wanted to get here because it's Monday and
+mother's washing day and--" She paused, her irritation getting the better
+of her. "I don't see what right you have to question me, Harvey Spencer."
+
+Grogan had got down from the wagon and at this moment came through the
+gate.
+
+"Young man," he began, addressing Spencer. The girl interrupted him.
+
+"Who are you?" she demanded. "Do you come from the mill?"
+
+"I come from no mill," retorted Grogan, piqued by the girl's tone, "and
+if you'll excuse me I don't want to."
+
+"This is Mr. Michael Grogan of Chicago," put in Harvey placatingly. "I've
+been showing him the town."
+
+"And," added Grogan quickly, "I haven't seen much."
+
+"That's not at all strange," said Elsie, "because there's nothing to
+see."
+
+"And in Chicago, where I come from," said Grogan sagely, "there's
+altogether too much."
+
+Grogan saw by his two companions' faces that he was an intruder.
+
+"Young man," he said, "I don't think I'll wait for you. I've some letters
+to write at the hotel. I think I'll be strolling along."
+
+"Why," said Harvey, hospitable in the face of intrusion, "you're welcome
+to ride. Won't you wait?"
+
+"No, thanks," said Grogan, "that grocery wagon of yours wasn't built to
+accommodate a man of my size."
+
+Harvey and the girl watched Grogan disappear in the dusk. Then the young
+man turned to the girl.
+
+"Elsie--" he began tenderly.
+
+But the girl stopped him. "Now don't begin to question me," she ordered.
+"I won't answer."
+
+"You are trying to hide something from me," said Harvey, grasping the
+girl's unwilling hand. The girl drew away from him.
+
+"That's not true," she said. "I don't want you to bother me."
+
+"I never used to bother you," said Harvey, his face flushing.
+
+"That was before--" began Elsie impulsively. "I mean now," she went on,
+catching herself. "I mean that you do now because you have changed."
+
+"No," contradicted Harvey, "but you have."
+
+"What do you mean by that?" challenged the girl.
+
+Harvey stood silent for a moment and jerked out a laugh of embarrassment.
+"I don't know exactly what I mean," he said, "but you know we were
+engaged."
+
+Elsie flushed. "We were not," she said.
+
+"I mean," said Harvey miserably stumbling on, "we sort of were. We
+understood." He brought one hand from his pocket. It held the box
+containing the ring. "Why, Elsie," he said pleadingly, "I even bought the
+ring. Just a plain band of gold. I did so hope that some day, soon
+perhaps, you'd let me put it on your finger and take you to our home. It
+wouldn't be much, but I'd love you and care for you. Why I'd work night
+and day just to make things easy for you. I love you. It all begins and
+ends with that."
+
+Elsie stood for a moment as though this honest appeal had touched her.
+Then she turned sharply.
+
+"O, what's the use," she cried, "Look at this place. See how we live. And
+you--you want me to go on like this? No!"
+
+Harvey stared at her stupidly.
+
+"Don't stare at me like that," said the girl annoyed.
+
+"I am wondering what has changed you so," said Harvey apologetically.
+
+"Nothing, I tell you."
+
+"Yes, there is something, or somebody."
+
+"Now Harvey, please don't begin--" Elsie paused. Her glance left Harvey's
+face. A young man in a brown tweed suit and carrying a light walking
+stick in his gloved hand was coming toward the gate.
+
+"Hello," he said easily, addressing Elsie and ignoring Spencer, "anybody
+at home?"
+
+Elsie turned toward him with impulsive friendliness, then remembering her
+other suitor paused and tried to assume a manner of unconcern.
+
+"Of course, there's someone at home," she said, "can't you see there is?"
+
+"Can't be sure that such loveliness is real," said the newcomer
+gallantly.
+
+"You're talking Chicagoese," said the girl, not, however, displeased.
+
+"Simple fact, believe me," was the assured response.
+
+Elsie saw that Harvey was eyeing the stranger with hostility. "Do you
+know Mr. Spencer, Mr. Druce?"
+
+"Everybody in Millville knows Mr. Spencer," replied Martin Druce, putting
+out his hand. "He's a town institution."
+
+"Thank you," said Harvey, mollified by what he thought a sincere
+compliment and shaking hands.
+
+"Institution!" laughed Elsie.
+
+Harvey stopped and withdrew the hand. It dawned on him that there was a
+secret understanding between Druce and the girl.
+
+"Now hold on," he asked. "Just what do you mean by that word
+'institution?'"
+
+"Why you're one of the landmarks here," explained Druce, "the same as the
+bank or the opera house." He brushed the lapel of Harvey's coat with his
+gloved hand and straightened his collar. Then he soberly removed Harvey's
+straw hat, fingered it into grotesque lines and replaced it on his head.
+He stepped back to observe the effect, adding satirically: "I'll bet you
+won't stay long in this jay town."
+
+"You're dead right there," boasted Harvey. "Millville is all right and a
+rising place but--"
+
+"I knew it," said Druce gravely. "You'll be coming up to Chicago to show
+Marshall Field how to run his store."
+
+"Well, I may--" began Harvey proudly.
+
+"Oh!" Elsie's voice was pained. "Don't do that, Mr. Druce!" Then she
+turned to Spencer. "Why do you let him make a joke of you?"
+
+"Who? Me?" Harvey looked at her in astonishment. He turned to Druce
+savagely. "Say," he demanded, "are you trying to kid me?"
+
+"Not on your life," was the reply. "I knew better than to try to kid a
+wise young man like you. What I'm trying to say is that you're too big
+for this town. Say, what's your ambition?"
+
+"Oh, I've got one, Mr. Druce. I'm going to be a detective."
+
+"Well, there's lots of room for a real one in Chicago," said Druce,
+suppressing a contemptuous smile.
+
+"I may go there some day."
+
+"Come along," said Druce, "the more the merrier."
+
+"Say, Mr. Druce," asked Harvey, now completely taken in by the
+ingratiating stranger, "what's your business?"
+
+"Mine, why--" The man moved toward Elsie as he spoke, gazing at her
+steadily.
+
+"Yes, you've got one, haven't you?" persisted Harvey.
+
+Druce seemed confused for a moment. Then his face broke into a genial
+smile. Both Elsie and Spencer were watching him curiously.
+
+"Sure, I've got a business. It's a mighty profitable one, too. I'm a
+dealer in live stock."
+
+"Oh, cattle?" said Harvey.
+
+"You got me," was the casual response, "just cattle."
+
+
+
+
+                                CHAPTER V
+
+                 A SERPENT WHISPERS AND A WOMAN LISTENS
+
+
+The word cattle seemed to arouse the roan colt to his own existence. He
+whinnied ingratiatingly and tugged at his hitching strap. Whether or not
+his master had forgotten, he knew it was supper time. Harvey heard him.
+
+"Well," he said to Druce, backing away towards the gate. "I've got to be
+going. Drop into the store some time. I'll give you a cigar."
+
+"Thanks," laughed Druce. Then under his breath he added, "Like blazes I
+will." He turned back to Elsie. "Is that the Rube," he demanded, "who
+wants to marry you?"
+
+"Yes," defended Elsie hotly, "and he's all right, too. I don't think it
+was nice of you to make fun of him as you did."
+
+"Now, now," said Druce soothingly. "Don't be angry with me. I was just
+playing around." He paused and looked warily at the house. "Everything
+all right, eh?"
+
+"Yes, I guess so," replied Elsie, with an anxious look in the same
+direction. "Harvey frightened me when I first got home. For a moment I
+thought he knew that I had been out with you."
+
+"Well, what if he did? There's no harm in going for a ride with me, is
+there?"
+
+"No-o," Elsie shook her head doubtfully. "But I don't feel just right
+about it."
+
+"And that grocery fellow didn't know after all, eh?"
+
+"I think not. At least he said nothing."
+
+Druce shrugged his shoulders derisively.
+
+"I think not. At least he said nothing." he couldn't detect a hair in the
+butter. I'm not worried about him. How is it with your own folks? Your
+mother doesn't know?"
+
+[Transcriber's note: previous paragraph transcribed as printed, with
+apparent obfuscation by duplicated line.]
+
+"No," replied Elsie, uneasy again. "Anyway, mother wouldn't matter so
+much, but dad--" She covered her face with her hands.
+
+"Never mind," said Druce tenderly, drawing her toward him and caressing
+her. "We had some ride, didn't we?"
+
+"Grand," replied Elsie, brightened by the recollection.
+
+"I told you it would be all right if I hired the car and picked you up
+around the corner from the mill. Say--" The man lowered his tone. "Gee,
+you're prettier than ever today, Elsie!"
+
+Something in his manner caused the girl to recoil. The shrinking movement
+did not escape Druce.
+
+"What's the matter, girlie?" he inquired. "Do you know that in all the
+weeks I have been coming down here from Chicago to see you, you haven't
+even kissed me?"
+
+"Please," pleaded the girl, pushing him away. She scarcely understood her
+mood. She only knew she did not want Druce to touch her.
+
+"What's the matter?" repeated Druce, following close behind her.
+
+"I--I don't know," faltered the girl, "I feel wicked somehow."
+
+"Why?" He led her to a bench and sat down beside her. "Haven't I always
+treated you like a lady?"
+
+"Yes, Martin, you've been good to me--but--I feel wicked."
+
+Druce laughed. "Nonsense, girlie," he said, "you couldn't be wicked if
+you tried. Do you know what you ought to do?"
+
+"What?" she asked.
+
+"Turn your back on this town where nothing ever happens and come to
+little old Chicago, the live village by the lake."
+
+"Chicago! What could I do there?"
+
+"Make more money in a month than you can earn here in a year."
+
+"But how?"
+
+"You can sing," said Druce appraisingly. "You're there forty ways when it
+comes to looks. Why they'd pay you a hundred dollars a week to sing in
+the cabarets."
+
+"Cabarets?" The girl's interest was aroused. "What's a cabaret?"
+
+"A cabaret," said Druce, "is a restaurant where ladies and gentlemen
+dine. A fine great hall, polished floors, rugs, palms, a lot of little
+tables, colored lights, flowers, silver, cut glass, perfumes, a grand
+orchestra--get that in your mind--and then the orchestra strikes up and
+you come down the aisle, right through the crowd and sing to them."
+
+"Oh, I'd love to do that," said the girl.
+
+"Why not try it?"
+
+"I--I wouldn't know how to begin."
+
+"I'll show you how."
+
+"Tell me, tell me how, quick."
+
+"Dead easy," Druce explained smoothly. "I'm going back to Chicago on the
+evening train tonight. Now there's no use having trouble with your folks.
+They wouldn't understand. You tell them you are going over to one of the
+neighbors', anything you can think of. That train slows down at the
+junction, right across the field there--you can always hear it whistle.
+I'll be aboard the last car and I'll take you to Chicago with me. Then
+when we get there we--"
+
+He broke off abruptly for Elsie started up from the bench and moved
+slowly away.
+
+"What's the matter, girlie?" asked Druce.
+
+"I--I don't know," the girl answered. "There isn't anyone here but just
+us, is there?"
+
+"No," replied Druce, watching the girl closely, "why?"
+
+"Because," she half whispered, "it seemed to me just then that someone
+touched me on the arm and said, 'Don't go!'"
+
+Druce started. He looked carefully around. Then he laughed.
+
+"You're hearing things tonight, Elsie," he said. "There's no one here but
+just you and me." He took her by the hand and was drawing her down to the
+bench when suddenly the front door of the cottage opened and Mrs. Welcome
+appeared.
+
+"Elsie," she called. She stood framed in the lighted doorway, her eyes
+shaded with her hand. Like a shadow Druce faded from his seat beside the
+girl and dodged behind a tree out of sight, but in hearing.
+
+"Is that you, Elsie?" asked the mother. "I thought I heard voices. Was
+Harvey here?"
+
+"Yes," replied the girl in confusion, "he has just gone."
+
+"You didn't see anything of your father, did you?"
+
+Elsie shook her head. "You--you don't suppose dad's drinking again?" the
+girl asked anxiously.
+
+"I suppose so," replied the mother wearily. "He hasn't been here all
+day."
+
+"Oh, mother," the girl wailed. "What shall we do?" She sank down on the
+seat.
+
+Her mother took her in her arms. "Don't cry," she said. "Come in and help
+me get supper."
+
+"I'm waiting for Patience," replied the girl. "I'll be in the house in a
+moment. You go ahead with the work. When Patience comes we'll both help
+you."
+
+Mrs. Welcome walked back into the cottage. As the door closed behind her
+Druce reappeared. He had not missed a word of the conversation between
+Elsie and her mother; as he now approached he outlined in his mind an
+immediate plan of attack.
+
+"Elsie," he said softly. The girl started.
+
+"I thought you had gone," she said. "No, don't touch me. I'm in trouble.
+My father--" she covered her face with her hands.
+
+"Yes, I know," said Druce. "I heard it all. Why do you stay here? Why do
+you--"
+
+"It isn't that," retorted the girl, too proud to accept sympathy. "You
+made me lie to my mother. That is the first time I ever deceived my
+mother."
+
+"Don't cry," said Druce. He drew her to the bench. "Come," he went on,
+"be sensible. Dry those tears. Come with me to Chicago."
+
+"How do you know I could get a chance to sing in that place you told me
+of?" she demanded, open to argument.
+
+Druce pressed his advantage. "Why," he said, "I'm interested in one
+myself. I think I could arrange to place you."
+
+"Martin," said Elsie, "you said you were in the live stock business."
+
+Druce hesitated a moment, toying with his cane. "I am," he said slowly.
+"This cabaret--er--is a little speculation on the side. Come now, say
+you'll be at the train at eight o'clock."
+
+The girl considered long.
+
+"Think," said Druce, "with one hundred dollars a week you will be able to
+take your mother out of this hole. Why, you'll be independent! You owe it
+to your family not to let this opportunity escape you."
+
+"I'll go," said Elsie.
+
+"Good! Good for you, I mean," said Druce.
+
+"On one condition," the girl went on.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+Elsie got up from her seat embarrassed. "It all depends," she said.
+
+"On what?" demanded Druce.
+
+"On you, Martin."
+
+"Me?" Druce laughed uneasily.
+
+"Yes," said the girl walking close to him and looking him in the face.
+"There is only one way I can go to Chicago with you."
+
+"How's that, girlie?" was Druce's astonished question.
+
+Elsie held up her left hand timidly. "With a plain gold ring on that
+finger, Martin," she said. She was now blushing furiously. She knew that
+she had virtually proposed to Druce. He laughed and something in his
+laugh jarred her.
+
+"Oh, marriage," he said.
+
+"You know that Martin, don't you? I couldn't go to Chicago with you any
+other way."
+
+Druce took off his hat. "Elsie," he said, "you're as good as gold. I
+honor you for your scruples."
+
+He paused to think for a moment. "I'll tell you," he said. "You come
+along with me and I'll marry you as soon as we reach Chicago. Meanwhile
+I'll telegraph ahead and arrange to have you taken care of by my old
+aunt. You'll be as safe with her as if you were in your own home."
+
+"You promise to marry me?"
+
+"Sure I do, girlie." He broke off blusteringly. "What do you take me for?
+Do you think I'd lure you to Chicago and then leave you?"
+
+"Martin," said Elsie gravely, "a girl must protect herself."
+
+"You'll go, honey?" Druce persisted.
+
+"I can't tell," replied the girl desperately, anxious to promise and yet
+afraid.
+
+"You'll go," said Druce positively, "at eight o'clock--"
+
+A cool voice broke in on his sentence. Druce started like a man suddenly
+drenched with cold water.
+
+"What's that is going to happen at eight o'clock, Mr. Druce?"
+
+The speaker was Patience Welcome.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER VI
+
+                     A ROMANCE DAWNS--AND A TRAGEDY
+
+
+Patience Welcome shared all the prejudices of her employer, John Price,
+against "city chaps." Her observation of those who had presented
+themselves in Millville had not raised her estimate of them. As a class
+she found them overdressed and underbred. They came into her small town
+obsessed with the notion of their superiority. Patience had been at some
+pains in a quiet way to puncture the pretensions of as many as came
+within scope of her sarcasm. She was not, like many girls of Millville,
+so much overwhelmed by the glamour of Chicago that she believed every
+being from that metropolis must be of a superior breed. She had
+penetration enough to estimate them at their true value. In her
+frankness, she made no effort to conceal her sentiments toward them.
+
+But recently there had come into her acquaintance a product of Chicago
+whom she could not fit into Mr. Price's city chap category. This was
+Harry Boland.
+
+Young Boland, the son of Chicago's "electrical king," was himself
+president of his father's Lake City Electrical Company. He was good
+looking, quiet, competent and totally lacking in the bumptiousness that
+Patience found so offensive in other Chicago youths. Toward him Patience
+had been compelled to modify her usual attitude of open aversion to mere
+cold reserve. She did not quite comprehend him and until conviction of
+his merits came she was determined to occupy the safe ground of
+suspicion.
+
+Patience and Harry Boland had first met on a basis that could scarcely
+have been more formal. The young man, early in his business career, had
+been his father's collector. Part of his duties had consisted of
+collecting the rents of a large number of workmen's cottages which the
+elder Boland owned at Millville. The Welcomes occupied one of these
+cottages. As Tom Welcome not infrequently was unable to pay the rent when
+it was due, Boland had had numerous opportunities for seeing Patience,
+who was treasurer of the Welcome household.
+
+Her attitude toward him had at first amused, then annoyed and finally
+interested him. When he began to understand what was back of her coldness
+a respect, such as he had felt for no other girl, developed in him. The
+more she held him off the more eager he became for a better acquaintance.
+This desire was fed by her repulses. Long ago he had made up his mind
+that he loved her. Now, in spite of the social chasm that yawned between
+them, he was determined to win her. His intentions toward her were honor
+itself. He was determined to marry her.
+
+When Harvey Spencer drove off, after having introduced Patience to
+Grogan, the girl started toward her home. She had gone only a short
+distance when a quick step behind her appraised her that she was
+followed. A moment later Harry Boland appeared at her side, hat in hand.
+
+"How do you do, Miss Welcome?"
+
+"I'm very well, thank you," replied Patience, primly.
+
+"Beautiful day, isn't it?" demanded Harry inanely.
+
+"Yes," agreed Patience, "I love the spring and even Millville is
+beautiful now."
+
+"I think it the most beautiful place in the world," declared Harry
+enthusiastically.
+
+Patience looked at him in surprise, then colored and laughed. "Do you?"
+she said with the accent on the first word.
+
+"I hope," said Harry, "that you don't mind if I smoke."
+
+"Not at all."
+
+There was an awkward silence.
+
+"Patience," Harry used the girl's name for the first time with
+deliberation, "why don't you speak to me?"
+
+Patience did not resent the familiarity. "I am thinking," she replied.
+
+"You act as though you do not like me. What have I done?"
+
+"It's not that," replied Patience shortly.
+
+"Then you are trying to avoid me."
+
+"I am."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Don't you know?" She turned and looked at him squarely. She was
+determined to dispose of his attentions then and there.
+
+"I'm not good at riddles."
+
+"Think a moment, then. You are Harry Boland, only son of the richest and
+most powerful man in Chicago. I am Patience Welcome, daughter of a broken
+inventor, tenant in a cottage which you own, where I cannot pay the rent.
+Can there be anything in common between us?"
+
+Harry ignored the question. "You have forgotten one fact," he said. There
+was determination in his voice. "Or don't you know it?"
+
+"What is that?" asked Patience over her shoulder, for she had turned from
+him.
+
+"That Harry Boland is in love with Patience Welcome."
+
+"What an absurdity!"
+
+"You don't believe me?"
+
+"How can you talk like that to me?" said the girl, now agitated. "Look at
+me. You know we are in arrears for rent."
+
+"Don't worry about that."
+
+She turned on him defiantly and looked into his eyes. Then her glance
+fell under his more burning one. She flushed and turned away.
+
+"I suppose," she said, huskily with humiliation, "that you have paid the
+rent yourself." She was almost in tears.
+
+"Now don't take it like that," pleaded Harry. "No one but you and me will
+ever know. And if you will let me I will take you away from all this."
+
+Patience raised her head. She had recovered her composure.
+
+"All men come to that finally," she said coldly. "Even in my slight
+experience I have learned the phrase almost by heart. All men say that.
+They offer--"
+
+"Just a moment." Harry put out his hand emphatically. "Wait! All the men
+in your slight experience may have said it, but all have not meant it. I
+mean that if I take you away from all this I shall take you as Mrs. Harry
+Boland--as my wife."
+
+"Harry!" His name was wrenched from the girl's very heart by her
+surprise.
+
+"Do you believe that I love you now?" demanded Boland.
+
+"Yes. I didn't know, I didn't understand. I have wronged you ever since I
+have known you. Forgive me. But your father?"
+
+"Let me call your attention to the fact," said Harry, planting himself
+firmly before her, "that I am many years past the age of seven--and can
+choose a wife for myself."
+
+"But your father?" insisted Patience.
+
+"Oh, he may rage and fume," retorted Harry, "but I have a standing of my
+own. I am president of the Lake City Electric Company that controls dad's
+patent light."
+
+"My father was interested in electricity, too--before--"
+
+But Harry interrupted her. "Never mind our fathers," he said. "We are the
+chief characters in this romance, you know."
+
+They had reached the path leading to the Welcome cottage. Patience, eager
+to end the interview which had thrown her into a state of consternation,
+such as she had never experienced before, seized the present opportunity.
+
+"Harry," she said, "please go. We are expecting father home and--I'm
+afraid--it won't be pleasant."
+
+"You haven't answered me. I'm off to Chicago tomorrow."
+
+"Tomorrow!" Patience caught her breath quickly.
+
+"Yes, in my new car. I'm going to drive back. I've overstayed my time and
+there are business calls which I simply cannot ignore. I'll not insist on
+an answer tonight, but will you write me?"
+
+The girl put out her hand which Harry grasped. Her lips quivered and she
+breathed, "Yes."
+
+He lifted the hand to his lips, but the girl drew it from him, whispered
+"goodby" and darted away. He stood watching her until she disappeared.
+Patience hurrying toward the cottage was roused from her tumult of
+emotion by the sound of voices. Once she heard the words "eight o'clock,"
+without recognizing the speaker. When they were spoken again she knew the
+voice as that of Martin Druce. She disliked Druce. The thought of his
+being alone with Elsie chilled her.
+
+She came toward him swiftly but in silence. Her question: "What did you
+say was going to happen at eight o'clock, Mr. Druce?" was a complete
+surprise.
+
+"Eh--why--" stammered Druce, off his guard.
+
+"Why Patience, how late you are," interrupted Elsie to conceal Druce's
+confusion.
+
+"Just a little, dear," replied Patience, now confused herself. "I have
+been busy at the store." Then she turned to Druce again. "What is it
+about eight o'clock--is it something concerning Elsie?" she persisted.
+
+"O, I was just saying that I had to meet a man at the hotel at eight,"
+returned Druce, full of assurance again.
+
+"Ah!" said Patience, "well, you'll catch him all right--if you start
+now."
+
+Druce laughed. "Here's your hat--what's your hurry, eh?"
+
+"Patience, how can you?" demanded Elsie.
+
+"I didn't mean to be rude," retorted Patience serenely, "only I wouldn't
+have him miss that man."
+
+"Oh, I can take a hint." Druce started for the gate. As he reached it he
+turned back to the two girls and added:
+
+"I sure hope that man keeps his appointment to meet me at eight o'clock."
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER VII
+
+                   HARRY BOLAND HEARS FROM HIS FATHER
+
+
+Harry Boland strode away from his interview with Patience deeply occupied
+with tumultuous reflections, not seeing the beauties of Millville which,
+but a short time before, he had been enthusiastically celebrating. He
+was, in fact, a young man walking in a dream. Every word the girl had
+uttered, every inflection of her voice, the involuntary confession of
+affection won from her by his own no less sudden avowal of love,
+projected themselves against his excited mind with all the vividness of
+kinetoscope pictures. He was very happy with these reflections that come
+to the youth in love when a familiar voice suddenly recalled him to
+mundane things.
+
+"Hello, there Harry," said the voice.
+
+It was Grogan's.
+
+"Hello," replied Harry, roused but not displeased to meet his father's
+intimate political adviser in this part of the world, "what are you doing
+in this part of Illinois?"
+
+"I'm on my way home," replied Grogan, laconically.
+
+"Ah, yes, Dad wrote me. You went to Kansas City, didn't you?"
+
+"I did. Your father caught me on the wire at St. Louis."
+
+"What did the governor want?"
+
+"Nothing much. He told me you were here and suggested that I meet you. He
+thought it would be pleasant for us both to have company home."
+
+It dawned on Harry that perhaps his father had not been quite
+disinterested in this.
+
+"You're a good politician, Mike," he said shortly.
+
+"Is that a compliment now, or a slander against my character?" Grogan
+demanded, smiling.
+
+"Neither," replied Harry. "It's a fact."
+
+"And why, might I ask, have you recalled it at this particular moment?"
+
+"Because your conversation in this particular instance seemed to me to be
+that of a person who was concealing something. Politician's talk, Grogan,
+is specious, but notable for its reticence."
+
+"Well, Harry," returned Grogan, "your own line of talk is not
+particularly illuminating, either."
+
+"What do you mean, Mike?"
+
+"Well, here I am, an old friend of your father's, mixed up with him in
+half a dozen deals. I've known you ever since you sat in a high chair and
+spooned gruel from a bowl. I come on you in this out of the way corner
+and you say never a word of why you're here, or what you're doing. I
+think Clam is your middle name."
+
+"Why," replied Harry, "I came down to Millville to collect some rents."
+
+"Only rents?" queried Grogan pointedly.
+
+"What the devil do you mean?"
+
+"Youngsters of your age sometimes amuse themselves
+collecting--shirtwaists."
+
+"Stop that, Grogan," retorted Harry angrily.
+
+"Stop what, me boy?"
+
+"I don't like that sort of insinuation."
+
+"Ho," said Grogan, "angry, eh? Then it's as I thought. There's always
+fire in the heart when a young man flares up about a girl."
+
+"Look here, Grogan--"
+
+"Easy, boy," interrupted the older man. "I'm your friend and I don't want
+to see you get into trouble--with your father, I mean."
+
+"Did he send you to spy on me?" demanded Harry hotly.
+
+"Not at all," returned Grogan suavely, "only he's worried."
+
+"Worried, what the devil about?"
+
+Grogan did not reply.
+
+"I know I've overstayed my time," Harry went on, "but some of these
+people have been difficult. I couldn't throw them into the street when
+they promised to pay and--"
+
+"I know, I know," put in Grogan. "It's not about you. Your father's
+worried about business. One of these crazy reform waves has started in
+Chicago. A vice investigating committee is raising ructions."
+
+"What do you mean by a reform wave? What can a vice investigating
+committee have to do with my father?"
+
+"Well, you see," Grogan was picking his words carefully, "your father has
+large interests. An investigation of that sort unsettles business."
+
+"What started the reform wave?"
+
+"A girl."
+
+"A what?"
+
+"I said a girl," replied Grogan evenly.
+
+Harry laughed.
+
+"Yes," said Grogan, "they all laughed at her at first, just as you are
+doing now. But the joke is beginning to lose its point."
+
+"Who is she?"
+
+"Her name," returned Grogan, "is Mary Randall."
+
+"Mary Randall," repeated Harry. The words meant nothing to him. "Who is
+she?"
+
+"I don't know," replied Grogan. "I've never met the lady. That's the
+mystery of her and she's keeping it well. She belongs to the Randalls of
+Chicago--society folk--that's all I know. But she isn't one of these
+Michigan boulevard tea party reformers. They just talk. She goes out and
+delivers the goods. She's a fighter."
+
+Harry laughed again. "This is good," he said. "An unknown girl, a society
+bud, working single handed stirs up Chicago until she gets all of you
+alleged smart politicians worrying. Grogan, I'm going to write a comedy
+about that."
+
+"Are you now?" said Grogan. "Well, I don't approve of your idea. It's not
+funny. The other night they raided the Baker Club and when they came into
+court they had evidence enough to hang them all. This Randall girl had
+worked in the club for a month as a waitress and she KNEW."
+
+"Still, Mike, that shouldn't affect father."
+
+"Not directly--no," replied Grogan, again picking his words with care,
+"but it gives the whole city an unsteady feeling. People won't invest
+their money. If I were in your place, my boy, I'd go home."
+
+"I'm off tomorrow in my new car. Better come with me."
+
+"Make it tonight and I will," replied Grogan.
+
+"You're on," agreed Harry. "We'll go tonight." He surveyed the sky. "It's
+going to storm," he said; "but even if it does, unless there's a flood
+the roads will be good. We'll go tonight."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VIII
+
+                        THE DEATH OF TOM WELCOME
+
+
+Both Harry Boland and Grogan fell silent after having reached their
+agreement to return to Chicago immediately. To a degree both men
+regretted the decision.
+
+Grogan had accomplished the purpose for which the elder Boland had
+despatched him to Millville--that of disentangling Harry from his
+romance--but what he had seen of Patience Welcome had led him to dislike
+his task.
+
+Harry had no sooner promised to drive back to Chicago in the night than
+he was assailed with yearning to see the girl again. Each occupied
+himself with his own thoughts. Dusk descended on the village. They had
+reached the corner of the street that led to their hotel when they were
+arrested by a maudlin voice.
+
+"I'm all right, I tell you, Harve."
+
+Two men came out from beneath the shadow of the trees and could be seen
+dimly under the sickly gleam of a street light. One leaned heavily
+against the other.
+
+"Sure, you're all right," replied the drunken man's companion in a voice
+both recognized as that of Harvey Spencer. "I'm just going to see you as
+far as your house." He spoke in the voice people use in humoring drunken
+men and children.
+
+"I hain't drunk, Harve," insisted Harvey's companion.
+
+"Of course, you ain't," replied Harvey, "come on."
+
+"I'm just overcome with the heat. I--"
+
+The reeling man broke off suddenly. He saw Harry and Grogan.
+
+"Who the devil are you?" he demanded truculently.
+
+"My name is Harry Boland," replied the young man.
+
+"Oh, the son of John Boland, eh?" jeered the drunken man. "Son of John
+Boland, 'lectric light king. John Boland's son, eh?"
+
+"Yes," replied Harry sharply, "what of it?"
+
+"Nothing I can prove," retorted Welcome, grimly, "only--give my regards
+to your father. Just tell him Tom Welcome sends his regards. He'll know."
+He began to whimper softly. "Poor old Tom Welcome, who might have been
+riding in his carriage this day." He stopped whining abruptly and snarled
+at the young man: "If there was any justice on God's earth--"
+
+Welcome lurched forward. Harry grasped his wrist and peered into his
+bloated face.
+
+"What do you mean by that?" he demanded.
+
+Grogan interrupted a good deal agitated. "He doesn't mean anything," he
+said, "he's just drunk. Come, boy, let's get out of here."
+
+"I want to know--" persisted Harry, but he dropped Welcome's arm.
+
+"Don't be a fool," commanded Grogan, "can't you see the man's drunk? Come
+on."
+
+"But I tell you I want to know--"
+
+"Oh, you don't know anything!"
+
+Harry was about to retort angrily when Grogan seized his wrist with an
+iron grip and swung him around the corner. Half dragging the young man
+along with him he got him to the hotel. There Grogan succeeded in
+convincing him of the folly of engaging in a street argument with a
+dipsomaniac he did not know.
+
+Meanwhile Harvey and Welcome continued their slow and stumbling journey
+to the Welcome cottage. Welcome, after his interview with Harry Boland
+was in a savage mood. A debauch of two days had left him virtually a mad
+man. It required all of Harvey's diplomacy to get him into his house
+quietly.
+
+The lights were burning in the living room when they arrived. Harvey
+convoyed his swaying companion to the back of the house, opened the door
+quietly and pushed him in. Mrs. Welcome and the two girls were in the
+living room, but the wind was sighing without and they heard nothing. A
+storm had come up with the setting of the sun and occasional flashes of
+lightning lighted the darkened room where Welcome found himself while the
+thunder deadened the sound of his stumbling feet. He made his way through
+the kitchen to a bedroom and sank down exhausted on a bed.
+
+But Tom Welcome could not sleep. Every nerve in his body jangled. The
+interview with young Boland, for reasons which will be apparent to the
+reader later, had aroused in him a smouldering anger. He tossed
+restlessly on his couch.
+
+While he lay there he heard some one knocking at the front door. All of
+his perceptions had grown abnormally keen. He heard a boy's voice and
+recognized it as that of a neighbor's son.
+
+"It's me, Jimmie," said the boy. "Pa sent me over with Elsie's veil. She
+dropped it while she was out in the auto this afternoon."
+
+He heard the door close and then the accusing voice of his wife
+demanding:
+
+"Elsie, who have you been out with, automobiling?"
+
+"I was out this afternoon with Martin Druce," replied the girl defiantly.
+
+"Then," went on the mother, conscious that a crisis of some sort between
+her and her daughter was approaching, "you were talking to him this
+evening and not to Harvey Spencer? You told me a falsehood?"
+
+"What if I did?" Elsie's tone was low and stubborn.
+
+Mrs. Welcome began to sob.
+
+"Mother, mother," pleaded Patience, "Elsie didn't mean--"
+
+"I did mean it," flared back Elsie. "I did mean it! Why shouldn't I go
+autoing when I have the chance? Isn't life in Millville hard enough
+without--" She paused overcome by a wave of passion. "I'm tired of
+Millville," she exclaimed, "I'm tired of the factory. I'm tired of living
+here as we do in this miserable, tumble-down place we call home. I'm
+tired of working like a slave, while a drunken father--"
+
+The words had scarcely left the girl's lips when Tom Welcome, red-eyed,
+dishevelled, swaying, appeared in the doorway behind her. His face was
+lit with demoniac passion. He rushed at the girl and she screamed in
+terror. With a vicious lunge he struck her down and then, seizing her by
+the hair, dragged her into the bedroom where, amid her cries, he rained
+blow after blow upon her.
+
+Harvey Spencer, just passing through the gate, heard the first scream. He
+rushed back into the house as Welcome, finished for the moment with
+Elsie, had returned to the cottage living room and was approaching his
+wife menacingly. He seized the raging man by the collar and hurled him
+into a corner.
+
+"Stay there," he said, "or I'll brain you."
+
+Welcome stood for a moment glaring at the intruder. He attempted to
+speak, but foam flecked his lips and seemed to choke his voice. His eyes
+acquired a fixed and unearthly stare. He raised his fist as though to
+strike and then plunged headlong to the floor.
+
+Patience was the first to reach her father's side. A vivid flash of
+lightning followed by a terrific detonation of thunder rocked the
+cottage.
+
+"He's dying," screamed Patience.
+
+Mrs. Welcome, forgetting past injuries, sprang to her husband's side.
+
+"Tom," she wailed, "speak to me. Tom--Tom, I'm your wife--"
+
+The dying man tried to sit up. His mania had passed. He patted his wife's
+shoulder feebly and smiled. A great weakness had come into his face.
+"Forgive me," he said, "I didn't know--I didn't know what I was doing. It
+was the drink. I am going. Call Elsie!"
+
+Patience sprang toward the bedroom, but it was empty. The open doors
+through the kitchen showed how she had fled. As she searched frantically
+for her sister, the little clock on the mantel slowly struck the hour of
+eight.
+
+"She's gone," cried Patience. A premonition of the tragedy of Elsie's
+flight flashed upon her mind. "Oh," she cried, "my little lost sister! My
+little lost sister!"
+
+"Gone," cried Harvey. "Gone where?" He opened the door. The rain was
+falling pitilessly. "Not out into this storm. Someone must find her." He
+rushed out into the darkness.
+
+"Gone!" echoed Tom Welcome. His voice was hollow as a knell. The
+drink-racked body stiffened in a spasm and then dropped limply into his
+weeping wife's arms. "Gone!" he gasped.
+
+Tom Welcome was dead.
+
+Another flash of lightning and a roar of thunder. The two women strove to
+revive the corpse. At last the dreadful realization came to them that Tom
+Welcome would never speak again. The wind smote the cottage and the light
+in the single lamp in the room fluttered as though in mortal terror. The
+skies were shattered with a final climactic crash of thunder. The mother
+and daughter, alone in that chamber of death, clung to each other
+silently feeling themselves isolated from all mankind, with even the
+elements storming against them.
+
+While they waited, blanched and terror-stricken, for the last
+reverberations of the thunder, the whistle of the Fast Express, bound
+from Millville to the great city, rose wildly on the air, like the scream
+of an exultant demon, and died away in a series of weird and mocking
+echoes into the night.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER IX
+
+                 IN WHICH SOME OF CHICAGO'S BEST PEOPLE
+                      ESSAY A TASK TOO BIG FOR THEM
+
+
+Lucas Randall inserted his key into the door and let himself into his
+Michigan boulevard residence. The butler, busy in one of the reception
+rooms, looked up merely to nod a welcome as he entered. Mr. Randall
+turned to the mirror in the hallway. He saw the reflection of a man sixty
+years of age, gray but well preserved, intelligent but not forceful.
+
+As he turned from the glass he saw his wife descending the broad stairs.
+She was small and fragile. In her youth she had had a delicate pink and
+gold beauty. The years had worn away the pink and the gold but had left a
+spirituality that seemed even finer.
+
+"I'm glad you're home early, Luke dear," he heard her saying. Then
+noticing his air of abstraction she added: "Did you forget after all,
+Luke?"
+
+"Forget," he repeated blankly, "forget what, Lucy?"
+
+"Oh you man!" replied his wife as if man were a word of reproach. "The
+church committee is to be here this afternoon to formulate its report on
+vice conditions."
+
+"Oh, that!" Mr. Randall chuckled. "Yes, I had forgotten, but anyhow I
+made it, you see. How's Mary?"
+
+"Very well--" Mrs. Randall broke off suddenly. There was a troubled look
+in her eyes. Then she added lightly almost to herself: "What a queer
+child!"
+
+"Queer?"
+
+"Yes, Luke, queer," returned Mrs. Randall. Again that troubled look.
+"Luke, dear, I want to make a confession. I don't understand Mary. After
+your brother Henry died, when we insisted that Mary come and live with
+us, it seemed wicked to leave her in that great house alone--and we have
+no children. Now, there are times I am almost sorry we did it. It isn't
+that I want to criticise Mary"--noticing her husband's look of
+surprise--"I know she loves us both and yet--well, I have the feeling
+that we don't really know her. The intimacy I had longed for hasn't
+developed. She seems to live a part of her time in another world than
+ours." She broke off again, laughing nervously. "Do you know," she said,
+"I sometimes have the feeling that Mary lives a sort of double
+life--nothing evil, you know--but uncanny. She's not unkind nor lacking
+in affection for either of us, but often when we are together it seems to
+me that her mind is miles away."
+
+"Queer, eh?" said Mr. Randall, sympathetically. "Well, her father was
+like that."
+
+"It's not strange if she is like her father," charged Mrs. Randall. "He
+brought her up like a boy. After her mother died she was more like a chum
+to him than a daughter."
+
+Lucas Randall became meditative.
+
+"The church work, now," he asked, "does she seem interested?"
+
+"At first I think she was. I took her on some of my regular poor people
+calls. She seemed interested--too interested. Why, one day I lost her in
+a tenement on Kosciusko street. I had to come home without her, half wild
+with anxiety. She rushed in an hour later and when I questioned her as to
+where she had been she replied that she had found a poor Scotch family
+and had been so interested that she had forgotten me. 'Forgotten'--that's
+the very word she used. She said she had been 'seeking the causes of
+poverty.' I told her poverty came from people being poor, but that did
+not seem to satisfy her. She asked me why they were poor. I answered that
+often it was because they were shiftless. 'Not always,' she replied,
+'these Scotch people, aunt, dear, were strangely like you and me.' She
+spoke as if I were the one who did not understand."
+
+"And since then?"
+
+"Well, she has seemed to prefer going alone." Mrs. Randall paused on the
+verge of a new confession. "Luke, dear," she went on hurriedly, "Mary
+goes into sections of the city you have warned me not to visit!"
+
+"Not the Levee?"
+
+"Just that."
+
+"Good Lord," ejaculated Mr. Randall, "surely she doesn't go alone?"
+
+"Yes, except for her maid."
+
+"That girl she took from the Refuge?"
+
+"Anna."
+
+"Where is Mary now?"
+
+"In her room."
+
+"She'll come down to the committee meeting, I suppose?"
+
+"I asked her and she replied that of course she would come."
+
+"Has she been out today, Lucy?"
+
+"Nearly all day."
+
+"Calls, I suppose."
+
+"No, she's been attending the hearings of the vice commission."
+
+"In God's name, why?" Mr. Randall was really disturbed.
+
+"I asked her that very question. She replied that the proceedings
+interested her."
+
+"Heavens!" Mr. Randall paced the room. "'Interested' her! A girl with an
+income she can't possibly spend, a girl who might have anything, do
+anything, go anywhere, marry any man--"
+
+He broke off suddenly. "Lucy," he demanded, "is there any man Mary might
+care for? That good looking young curate, for instance?"
+
+Mrs. Randall shook her head emphatically. "No, Luke," she said. "If you
+were to ask me to name the two things Mary never gives a thought to I'd
+say men and matrimony. And that's another thing about her I cannot
+fathom."
+
+Further confidences were cut short by the entrance of the butler
+announcing the Rev. Thomas Brattle, a clergyman of sixty with an old
+fashioned flowing white beard, small white hands and shiny gold-bowed
+spectacles, and Marvin Lattimer, a business man with a turn for religious
+activities. Desultory conversation followed broken by the entrance of
+Mrs. Sumnet-Ives, a well preserved woman of forty and a social power, and
+Miss Emma Laforth, slender, dark, intelligent looking and gifted with a
+political acumen that had given her an unassailable position in women's
+club circles. They were escorted by Grove Evans, plump, wealthy, well
+born, mildly interested in reform because reform was the proper thing,
+and Wyat Carp, a lawyer with literary tendencies.
+
+Greetings and small talk; then Lucas Randall led the way to the library.
+There the Rev. Mr. Brattle, clearing his throat in an official manner,
+established himself before a priceless seventeenth century table of
+carved mahogany.
+
+"The meeting will come to order," he announced.
+
+A circle of chairs had been drawn up before the table. The committee
+members occupied them with a subdued rustle of garments. The Rev. Mr.
+Brattle watched the circle benignly, waiting for a moment of total
+silence. When he spoke his voice was smooth, finely modulated, pitched in
+the right key. His manner, in fact, was perfect. Indeed, in the spacious
+luxury of Lucas Randall's fine library no one could have appeared to
+better advantage.
+
+"Dear friends," he said, beaming about him, "we are gathered here, as you
+know, to formulate the report of our investigation into vice conditions.
+You have labored long and faithfully. Now the time has come to put forth
+the fruit of your labors in a form at once concrete and illuminating."
+
+He paused, then continued:
+
+"The problem we are approaching is world-old. Mankind has struggled with
+it intermittently since civilization began. Apparently we have made no
+progress. The twentieth century, in fact, with its terrific congestion in
+cities, its vast consumption of nervous energy and its universal
+commercialism, has complicated our problem. But with these new
+complications have come new means for warring against the evil.
+Intelligence on the subject is more general. Fine minds everywhere are
+addressing themselves to the riddle. Thus it seems that humanity is at
+last coming to grips with the traffic in women. Who knows but that out of
+this little gathering may not be evolved some theory which, injected into
+the circulation of modern life, shall immunize us against this social
+malady."
+
+There was subdued applause.
+
+"As my time has been somewhat occupied," the clergyman went on, "I have
+asked Mr. Carp to employ his well known literary gift in formulating our
+report. Let me add that I have read our brother's resumé of our
+investigations and endorse it fully as to the facts found."
+
+Meanwhile Wyat Carp, with his best poet's air, had arisen and bowed to
+the little circle. He laid a terrifying number of manuscript sheets on
+the table and polished his glasses with his silk handkerchief. His was
+the subdued manner of a surgeon about to perform an operation and, it
+must be confessed, his audience felt some of the sensations of the
+patient.
+
+"My friends," began Wyat Carp, "in putting before you what I trust you
+may see fit to adopt as our united report I am naturally moved by a
+feeling of delicacy--"
+
+He paused, for directly behind the little circle of hearers the heavy
+curtains had been pushed aside, and a girl stood framed there against the
+dull red of the draperies. She was rather above medium height, with a
+figure rounded by exercise, a face oval and lighted by deep blue eyes
+underneath masses of burnished, coppery hair. Her personality seemed to
+fill the room. She breathed wholesomeness, vigor, sincerity and purpose.
+
+As Lucas Randall half started from his chair the girl put out her hand
+and checked him.
+
+"No, Uncle Luke," she said, "don't disturb yourself. I've been standing
+just outside the door for several minutes waiting for a moment to slip in
+quietly."
+
+She bowed to them all, and seated herself near the window overlooking the
+boulevard.
+
+"Just go on with the report, Mr. Carp," she said, "I assure you I am most
+eager to hear it."
+
+Wyat Carp coughed gently and picked up his manuscript.
+
+"Thank you, Miss Randall," he began gravely, "I--I--"
+
+"You were saying that you were moved by a feeling of delicacy," prompted
+the girl.
+
+"Thank you, Miss Randall." Mr. Carp bowed. "I--er--am experiencing a
+feeling of embarrassment because this is a meeting of both sexes and the
+subject is one which, only recently, has been discussed in mixed company.
+When one so young as yourself is present--"
+
+"Oh," replied the girl, a shade of amusement in her voice, "please don't
+let my youth interfere with our deliberations. I assure you that, young
+as I may appear to be, I am quite familiar with the matter we have under
+consideration."
+
+This remarkable declaration caused something of a real sensation. Mrs.
+Sumnet-Ives mentally put the speaker down as "a pert little chit." Grove
+Evans was amused, for he disliked Carp. Mrs. Randall catalogued it as
+another ebullition of Mary's queerness; even her uncle, despite an
+affection that accepted everything Mary did as right and proper, felt
+himself a little shocked. As for Miss Laforth, she favored Miss Randall
+with a long, inventorying inspection. Here, she reflected, might be a
+future political rival.
+
+Mr. Carp began to read slowly with here and there a pause to enable his
+audience to catch a subtle turn of phrase or the flowing rhythm of his
+periods. He read while the light grew fainter and the fire glowed more
+brightly, read until Lucas Randall leaned across the table and switched
+on the light in the great brass lamp.
+
+Mary Randall, deep in her easy chair beside the window and lulled by the
+soporific monotone of Mr. Carp's voice, saw the afternoon darken into
+dusk and the dusk deepen into night. Before her half-closed eyes the
+city, slowly but purposefully, began to throw off the habiliments of day
+and don the tinsel of evening. One by one, from far down the spacious
+avenue, the street lamps glowed into bulbs of color which the wet
+asphalt, like a winding black mirror, caught up and flung against the
+polished finishings of a swift and silent train of automobiles and the
+windows of the nearby mansions.
+
+And still Wyat Carp read on and on, skirting the outer circle of
+forbidden subjects, leading up to closed doors he made no attempt to
+open, expatiating voluminously on conditions that all the world knew,
+elucidating the obvious, ranging from one platitude to another--and
+avoiding the vital and concrete as though it were poisonous. And as Mr.
+Carp read Mary became oppressed with his total futility.
+
+Mrs. Ives risked a hasty glance at her jeweled wrist watch.
+
+"Doesn't the man know it's nearly time to dine?" she wondered.
+
+Grove Evans, with a dinner engagement at the club and a place bespoken in
+a quiet poker game afterward, squirmed in his chair and cursed Wyat Carp
+silently. Finally, with a last rhetorical flourish, Mr. Carp quite
+suddenly ended. He sat down amid a murmur of applause.
+
+"Wonderful," exclaimed Mrs. Ives. She was agreeably astonished that Mr.
+Carp should ever have finished.
+
+"Very full, concise and to the point," was Miss Laforth's verdict.
+
+"Great!" announced Grove Evans, really delighted, for he would be in time
+for dinner at the club after all.
+
+The Rev. Thomas Brattle gazed about the circle with a bland smile. "I am
+glad," he said, "to have my judgment indorsed by such excellent critics."
+
+Then, rapping gently on the table, he glanced about him. "A motion is in
+order before we adjourn, my friends," he stated, expectantly.
+
+"I move Mr. Carp's report be adopted as it stands," said Marvin Lattimer
+breathlessly. He had waited patiently all afternoon to speak just those
+words. His business judgment, as applied to social affairs, had taught
+him the wisdom of getting into the record. He was only a recent confidant
+of this inner circle of All Souls and he aspired to remain where he was.
+Besides, it would be something to tell the socially ambitious Mrs.
+Lattimer when he got home. There was a second from Miss Laforth.
+
+"You hear the motion," breathed the reverend chairman. "Those in favor
+will please say 'aye.'" As they all responded he beamed upon them. He
+turned with a deprecatory glance to Carp. "And as a matter of form, those
+contrary minded will please signify by saying 'no.'"
+
+He waited a moment. Quite clearly and distinctly Mary Randall spoke:
+
+"No!"
+
+The tiny monosyllable seemed to echo and reecho through the high-ceiled
+room. There was a most embarrassing silence.
+
+"Mary," faltered Mrs. Randall.
+
+Mary came over and pressed her hand against her aunt's shoulder. "Believe
+me," she said, "I don't mean to wound you. You don't understand." Then
+turning to the Rev. Mr. Brattle, she went on: "But I must insist that my
+vote in the negative be recorded in the minutes of this meeting."
+
+"May I inquire the cause of your--er--peculiar attitude?" asked the
+clergyman.
+
+"Do you think that fair, Dr. Brattle?"
+
+"Possibly not fair, but perhaps our curiosity is pardonable." There was
+suppressed sarcasm in his retort.
+
+"In your little speech of introduction, my dear doctor," said the girl,
+"you advanced the suggestion that this meeting might evolve some theory
+that would rid society of the social evil. The great trouble with this
+report is that it is all theory. I have no quarrel with the facts that
+Mr. Carp has given us, except that they are old--'world old,' as I think
+you said. Weeks have been spent on this investigation and yet there is
+not one word--not a single word--that answers the appeal going up in this
+city day after day from thousands of unfortunate women. We sit here,
+after weeks of investigation, and listen to a homily. The time is past in
+Chicago for homilies. The question is: What are we going to do about it?
+Helpless thousands are asking us that question and we answer it with a
+treatise full of 'world-old' truth and full of 'theory.' Mr. Carp speaks
+of the resorts on Dunkirk street being 'questionable'--"
+
+"They are questionable," defended Mr. Carp stoutly.
+
+"Questionable, Mr. Carp," replied Mary, "is a gentle word. These resorts
+are a shrieking infamy. They are markets in which young girls are sold
+like cattle."
+
+"How do you know that?" demanded Grove Evans, almost rudely. He felt his
+club appointment slipping away from him and the poker game owed him two
+hundred dollars.
+
+Mary looked from her aunt to her uncle.
+
+"I know," she replied, "because I have been there. I know because I
+myself bought four girls there!"
+
+The company gasped its surprise.
+
+"I told them I was 'in the business' in Seattle," the speaker continued.
+"I told them I wanted to buy. I asked for four girls--four young girls.
+They sold me four for one hundred dollars each."
+
+There was a silence for a long moment. It was broken by Marvin Lattimer.
+
+"Impossible!" he exclaimed.
+
+Mary looked at him sadly. "There is one fact more impossible than that,
+Mr. Lattimer," she said. "It is that men of the world like you--men who,
+above all others, should make it their business to know these
+things,--cry out 'Impossible!' when such a fact is exhibited before you
+in all its hideousness."
+
+"You should have had the man who sold those girls arrested," blurted
+Grove Evans.
+
+"I did," replied Mary quietly, "and _The Reporter_, in which you are a
+part owner, suppressed publication of the fact. I had the man arrested
+and Jim Edwards, the politician who holds the district in the hollow of
+his hand, prevented the case from going to trial. That man walks the
+streets of Chicago free and without bond."
+
+The girl turned to Dr. Brattle again.
+
+"Doctor," she said, "you are a clergyman. You are the shepherd of the
+flock. Are you, too, deaf to the appeal that goes up daily from the sinks
+of this city,--from hundreds of ruined girls? Do you, too, stand by while
+wolves rend the lambs? Do you deny the existence of the wolf?"
+
+"We can only strive to educate these women, to teach them the error of
+their way," pleaded the shepherd.
+
+"But, doctor, while you are educating one, the wolves are tearing down
+twenty. They 'educate,' too, and their facilities are better than yours."
+
+The girl stopped breathlessly and, stooping swiftly, kissed her aunt.
+There were tears in her eyes.
+
+"Don't worry about me," she said.
+
+Then suddenly she crossed the room and threw open the door. The maid,
+Anna, stood there with a satchel at her feet and Mary's cloak upon her
+arm. Mary picked up the satchel and turned toward the street door.
+
+"The time for theory alone is over," she said, addressing the company.
+"Someone has got to go into action against the wolves."
+
+The door swung behind her and she stepped out into the boulevard.
+
+
+
+
+                                CHAPTER X
+
+                   THE ADVENTURES OF A NEWSPAPER STORY
+
+
+Great cities thrive on sensations. The yellow journal with its blatant
+enthusiasms and its brazen effrontery finds a congenial habitat there,
+not because it is brazen, nor even because it is enthusiastic, but
+because it supplies a community need. The screaming headline is a mental
+cocktail. Bellowed forth by a trombone-lunged newsboy, it crashes against
+the eye, the ear and the brain simultaneously. It whips up tired nerves.
+It keys the crowd to the keen tension necessary for the doing of the
+city's business. And the crowd likes it. Fed hourly on mental stimulants,
+it becomes a slave to its newspapers.
+
+On the morning after Mary Randall's dramatic exit from her uncle's
+mansion Chicago awoke and clutched at the morning papers with all the
+eagerness of a drunkard reaching for his dram. A hint of a powerful new
+thrill lay in the half disclosed first pages. Black headings and
+"freaked" makeup meant but one thing--a big story.
+
+And Chicago was not disappointed. Occupying the place of honor on the
+first pages of all of the morning sheets was the announcement of a new
+assault upon the Vice Trust. To the crowd the name Mary Randall meant
+nothing. It knew little of her and cared less. But the idea of a young
+girl, beautiful, socially prominent, immensely wealthy in her own right,
+declaring war single-handed on a monster so mightily armored and
+intrenched and so brutally strong as the Vice Trust appealed instantly to
+the crowd's imagination. In the crowd's thought, at least, the girl
+became a heroine. And though the man in the street openly wearing an air
+of cheap cynicism spoke of her as "another crazy reformer" or as a
+"notoriety-hunting crank," secretly he responded to the enthusiasm of the
+headline writer who announced her as a "modern Joan of Arc."
+
+Mary had given out the story herself. A simple letter from her to the
+city editors announcing that she had left her home and all the luxuries
+that such a home implied and, accompanied only by a maid, had set forth
+on a war of extermination against the "vice ring" had been sufficient to
+set every local room in the city in a frenzy. Re-write men and head
+writers had done the rest. Every newspaper recorded the launching of her
+adventure with a luxuriance of illustration and a variety of detail that
+left nothing more to be said on the subject. Mary had counted rather
+shrewdly on this. She possessed, among her other natural gifts, a keen
+judgment of news values. She knew, too, the immense power of the press.
+By enlisting the agencies of publicity behind her she had multiplied her
+forces a thousand-fold. At the end of her letter Mary had written a
+modest appeal to the public. Every newspaper printed it under display
+type. It read as follows:
+
+                   "TO THE MEN AND WOMEN OF CHICAGO.
+
+"Our city, which should be the heart of American honor, is in the grip of
+a hideous System. So quietly and surely has this monster worked that our
+civic blood is poisoned. It feeds upon youth, innocence and purity--all
+that we as decent citizens love best. I call upon you all to stand by me
+now in my fight to kill the White Slave Traffic.
+
+                                                         "Mary Randall."
+
+Grove Evans read that appeal through and smiled at its naïveté. Then he
+looked across his office to his partner, William Brierly, a younger man
+with pompadour hair and an habitual air of immense self-satisfaction.
+Brierly was reading the same story in another newspaper. He, too, looked
+up and smiled.
+
+"You know this girl, don't you, Grove?" Brierly asked. "By George, she
+must be interesting. A new kind of female maniac, eh?"
+
+"You've met her," responded Evans. "She was at the Country Club during
+trophy match last fall. Carries herself like a queen. I remember your
+raving about her."
+
+"Ah," Brierly's derisive smile faded. "That girl, eh? Say, I saw her make
+the ninth hole in three. That girl! Say, look here, Grove," he struck the
+open paper with his palm, "does she mean this stuff?"
+
+Evans lighted a cigarette before replying. "She sure does," he stated
+finally. "I was at the Randalls when she delivered her ultimatum and took
+to the war path. Talk about a jolt! After she left us, you could hear the
+shades of night falling. For ten minutes we sat there exhibiting all the
+vivacity of a deaf and dumb man at a Quaker prayer-meeting."
+
+Brierly laughed. "Oh, well," he said. "She'll do what all these
+suffragettes do--run around in a circle, yell herself tired, then marry
+some fellow and forget it."
+
+He yawned. Evans turned to the huge safe and got out a heavy packet of
+papers.
+
+"What are you doing, Grove?" Brierly demanded lazily.
+
+"Nothing," responded Evans curtly. "Just looking over some of our shady
+leases."
+
+"Hello!" said Brierly, getting on his feet. "Are you taking this thing
+seriously?"
+
+Evans turned with a folded paper in his hand.
+
+"You bet your life I am," he replied. "I know this girl. There's a strain
+of wild Irish in her and it's my opinion that she's going to raise merry
+hell!"
+
+The dreamer who had visited the Millville Button Works with the owner of
+the mill lunched with his friend in the city that day. Quite casually,
+among other items of interest, Mary Randall's adventure came up for
+discussion.
+
+"I don't know the girl," said the mill-owner, "but her announcement gives
+me a fairly good mental picture of her."
+
+"What's your picture?" inquired the journalist.
+
+"A rag and a bone and a hank of hair, one of these raving suffragettes.
+Since bomb-throwing and burning are not fashionable over here, she's
+chosen this means of expending her surplus energy."
+
+"My dear friend, you're entirely wrong!"
+
+"What! You've seen her?"
+
+"Oh, no, but I have quite a different mental picture of her. You remember
+Joan of Arc? Mount her on a charger, hand her a sword of fire and send
+her forth to fight for Mary Magdalene. That's my idea."
+
+"You've borrowed that from the headline writers," the mill-owner said.
+
+"Not at all. I know the type. A thoughtful young girl, healthy,
+cultivated and, by the modern miracle, taught how to think. She studies
+vice conditions in Chicago at first hand and what she sees turns her into
+a crusader. This girl has spirit. Brought face to face with a great evil,
+moved by the appeal of helpless womanhood, she throws aside her veneer of
+false education."
+
+"Unsexed!"
+
+"Yes, if you would say that the crisis in her life unsexed Portia. Or the
+crisis in France's history unsexed Charlotte Corday."
+
+"You're fond of historical allusions," chided the practical man. "Always
+the literary man, always the dreamer. This girl is a disturber. She'll
+unsettle business."
+
+"Ah, there you are. 'Unsettles business.' Did it ever strike you business
+men that you take yourselves too damn seriously? Any movement, any
+agitation that 'unsettles business' is ipse facto wrong. You business men
+have had a hand in the martyring of most of the saints and all of the
+reformers since time began. And, invariably, you are wrong. Why, you're
+wrong even about yourselves. You firmly believe that the foundations of
+the country rest upon you. As a matter of fact, not one per cent of you
+are producers. You're middlemen, profit shavers, parasites."
+
+"My dear fellow," asked his friend, "where would you be if business
+men--publishers--didn't buy your wares?"
+
+"Ha," answered the writer, "and where would the publishers be if I and
+others didn't produce the wares to market? It won't do. The reason the
+newspapers and magazines of this country are so bad is because most of
+the publishers are not newspaper men and magazine writers, but merely
+business men."
+
+"Well, I suppose your Joan of Arc will have to have her fling. Then life
+will swing back to its same old channels and we'll forget her."
+
+"Yes, she will have her fling and perhaps we'll forget her, but life will
+not swing back to the same old channel. She'll make a new channel,
+forgotten though she may be, and it will be a better channel."
+
+                    *       *       *       *       *
+
+Captain Shammer of the Eighth police district read Mary Randall's open
+letter through slowly and carefully. When he had finished he lighted a
+long black cigar from a box that had been sent him by a world famous
+confidence man. He smoked thoughtfully for some time. Then he put out a
+heavy hand and, without looking, pressed a white button at the side of
+his desk.
+
+A sharp-eyed young man opened the captain's door.
+
+"Nick," said the captain, "shut that door a minute and come over here."
+He pointed to the black newspaper headline.
+
+"Get that?" he demanded.
+
+"Sure, first thing this morning, Captain."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"We should worry."
+
+Captain Shammer rolled his cigar in his mouth. He wasn't exactly
+satisfied with the answer.
+
+"All right," he agreed finally, "but Nick--"
+
+"Yes, Captain." Nick paused alertly, one hand on the door knob.
+
+"Easy for a while until we see how things break on this."
+
+"Aye, aye, sir!"
+
+"Curtains drawn, you know, and back rooms quiet. Tell the girls to go
+slow on the piano playing. Did Ike, the dip, come across?"
+
+"Not yet, Captain."
+
+"Pinch him today and give him the cooler. Get me?"
+
+"It's done, cap."
+
+"Close in on the stuss games. Pass the word to go easy."
+
+"I get you."
+
+"Mary Randall, eh?" asked Captain Shammer of vacancy when his aid had
+gone. "Mary Randall! Well, Mary, you sure have got your nerve with you."
+
+Senator Barker was a member of the Governor's vice investigating
+committee. The committee had been appointed to frame a minimum wage law
+for women. He was a person of ponderous bulk and mental equipment. He had
+slipped into office, not because the people yearned for him, but because
+there had happened to be a battle on between two factions of his natural
+political opponents in the fortunate hour he had selected for aspiring to
+office. Like most other American officeholders he spent his days and
+nights scheming out ways to continue living at the public's expense. He
+perused Mary Randall's screed as he sat over his morning grape-fruit.
+
+In an intermission in the committee meeting Senator Barker leaned across
+the heavy oak table and pointed out the letter to the Rev. Wallace
+Stillwell.
+
+"Did you see that?" he inquired huskily.
+
+Mr. Stillwell nodded and drew his thin lips together. He was quite young
+and just now carried the burden of having been called from an obscure
+country pulpit to a fashionable church in Chicago. He knew that the
+wealthy man who was his sponsor in this new position was interested in
+whole blocks of houses whose curtains were always drawn. He had never
+forgotten a certain phrase that great man had used when he came in his
+own automobile to bear the young pastor to the new field of his labors.
+
+"We want you, Mr. Stillwell," he had said, "because we believe you to be
+a safe and sane man, one who will not be swept off his feet by wild-eyed
+reformers and the anarchistic tendencies of the times."
+
+Mr. Stillwell, therefore, knew why he was wanted in Chicago. The
+knowledge made him cautious in all things. He thought Senator Barker's
+question over carefully. Then he nodded calmly.
+
+"Why, yes, Senator," he answered. "One could hardly avoid reading it."
+
+"Well, what about it?"
+
+"Just what do you mean, Senator?"
+
+"You know. What do you think of it, eh?"
+
+"It seems to me," purred the Rev. Wallace Stillwell, "that the whole
+exploit is worse than fantastic. It is hardly in good taste.
+Investigations of the kind this girl has undertaken ought to be left to
+the men."
+
+"That's all right," put in the Senator, gloomily, "but I've noticed
+lately that the women don't seem to be willing to do that. They want to
+take a hand in such matters themselves." He leaned back in his chair
+sadly. "It certainly makes it hard for us politicians."
+
+                    *       *       *       *       *
+
+A woman of ample girth and a handmade complexion pushed her coffee cup
+away and lighted a fresh cigarette. She had just finished reading Mary
+Randall's manifesto. Nature had made her beautiful, but advancing years
+and too much art had all but destroyed Nature's handicraft. She inhaled
+the acrid smoke deeply and then raising her voice, called:
+
+"Celeste! You, Celeste!"
+
+A mulatto girl threw open the door, crying:
+
+"Yes, madame?"
+
+"What you doing?"
+
+"Cleaning up."
+
+"Get a bottle of wine. Or did those high rollers guzzle it all last
+night, the drunken beasts?"
+
+"No, madame. I've saved one for you." She opened the bottle and placed
+the effervescent liquid before her mistress.
+
+"All right, Celeste. Anybody up yet?"
+
+"I hardly think so, madame."
+
+"Well, I'm up and I wish I wasn't," announced a girl who appeared at that
+moment coming down the broad staircase. She entered the room.
+
+"Got a head this morning, eh, Nellie?" said the madame, knowingly.
+
+"Yes, I've got a head," replied Nellie sullenly, "and a grouch."
+
+"Make it two, Celeste," said the madame promptly, indicating the bottle.
+The colored maid poured out another glass of the liquor. Madame threw the
+paper across the table to the girl.
+
+"There," she said, "that's something that will make you worse."
+
+"Where?" asked the girl, as she caught up the paper.
+
+"Front page, big headlines. You can't miss it."
+
+The girl stepped to the window and pushed aside the heavy curtain. In the
+morning light she was revealed there petite and charming, despite
+penciled eyebrows and carmined lips. Her figure was daintily
+proportioned. There was grace in every line. Her deep brown eyes glowed
+as she read the words Mary Randall had written.
+
+When she finished reading the girl crumpled the paper in her hand and
+filled another glass. She lifted the wine slowly.
+
+"Here's to you, Mary Randall," she said.
+
+"That's a rotten toast," said the madame.
+
+"Is it?" replied the girl. "Well, let me tell you something. I'd like to
+go straight out of this house and find Mary Randall and say to her: 'I'm
+with you, Mary Randall, and I hope to God you win out.'"
+
+"You don't think of me," whined the older woman. "Look what a knock that
+reform stuff gives business."
+
+"You!" Nellie's temper flared into a flame. "Say, you ought to be in
+jail! Now don't start anything you can't finish--" The older woman had
+got to her feet menacingly. "You don't deserve no pity. You got into
+this"--she indicated the gaudily furnished house by a gesture, "with your
+eyes wide open. You picked out this business for yourself. But with me
+it's different." She leaned across the table defiantly. "Yes, how about
+me? How about Lottie and Emma--and that poor kid that came here happy
+because she thought she'd found a decent job? Did we pick out this
+business? Did we? Not on your life. We walked into a trap and we can't
+get out. Yes, and there's thousands like us all over this country." She
+snatched up the bottle and poured more wine. "I'm for you, Mary Randall,"
+she said, raising the glass to the sunlight. "More power to your elbow!"
+
+                    *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mary Randall read the newspapers in a garret room of a tall lodging
+house. A pile of letters, in a peculiar shade of dark blue, sealed,
+stamped and ready for the postoffice, lay in a heap before her. She went
+through each newspaper carefully, noting the display and studying the
+"features" of her story that had impressed the newspaper men. At last she
+laid them down.
+
+"Well, Anna," she said, smiling, addressing her maid. "We've made a good
+beginning. The town, you see, is interested in us."
+
+Anna's ordinarily impassive face smiled back at her mistress' enthusiasm.
+Her blue eyes lighted with admiring loyalty. She was blonde, big boned
+and so strongly built as to look actually formidable. Competency and
+reserve power fairly radiated from her. Her voice betrayed her
+Scandinavian ancestry.
+
+"Ya-as," she said, "and in another week they'll be fighting for us."
+
+Mary got up from her chair and went to the window, threw it wide open and
+looked out on the city. She saw its myriad lights rimming the shore of
+the inland sea. She heard its roar--deep, passionate, powerful. In her
+imagination she laid her ear close to the city's heart and she heard it
+beat strong and true. The smile had left her face and a prayer formed
+itself silently on her lips. The revery lasted only a moment.
+
+"And now," she said, "for the next movement in the battle." She indicated
+the letters. "There's our ammunition, Anna," she said. "Mail them. I've
+picked you for a great honor. You're to open the engagement with a
+fusillade of bombshells."
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XI
+
+                          A BOMB FOR MR. GROGAN
+
+
+The telephone in the outer office of the Lake City Telephone Company rang
+insistently. Miss Masters, the stenographer, after the fashion of
+stenographers, let it ring. At length the telephone gave vent to a long,
+shrill, despairing appeal and was silent. Then, and then only, did Miss
+Masters lay aside the bundle of letters she was sorting and pick up the
+receiver.
+
+"Yes?" she said. "Well, what is it?"
+
+Apparently a voice responded.
+
+"Speak a little louder, please," the girl said impersonally. "I can't
+hear a single word you're saying."
+
+More words from the outside poured through the receiver.
+
+"Yes." Miss Masters nodded mechanically. "Yes, this is the main office of
+the Lake City Electrical Company. What?"
+
+There was another pause.
+
+"This is Miss Masters at the 'phone,--yes--yes--I'm the stenographer.
+What's that? Private secretary? Yes, I am Mr. John Boland's private
+secretary. No, our president, Mr. Harry Boland, has not come downtown
+yet. We are expecting him at any moment."
+
+A red-headed office boy stuck an inquisitive head through the door.
+
+"Who's that," he demanded, "someone for the boss?"
+
+Miss Masters merely motioned him to silence.
+
+"Yes," she went on, "his father, Mr. John Boland, will be in some time
+during the morning. Who shall I say called?"
+
+The girl waited for the answer and hung up the receiver.
+
+"Who is it, Miss Masters?" inquired the boy.
+
+"Well, Dickey, I don't think it's any of your business," retorted Miss
+Masters good-naturedly. "But, for fear you'll burst with curiosity, I'll
+say that it's Mr. Martin Druce."
+
+"Happy as a crab this morning, ain't you?" jeered the boy. "Well, you
+want to look out for that geezer, Druce. He's a devil with the girls."
+
+Miss Masters made a face at him and the boy, whistling derisively,
+disappeared through the door, not failing to slam it loudly after him.
+
+Miss Masters resumed her letter sorting. The door opened slowly. A man
+entered with his hat over his eyes. His hands were deep in his pockets
+and he chewed a despondent looking cigar. Had the reader been present he
+would have recognized him instantly, despite his unaccustomed air of
+lugubriousness, as our old friend, Mr. Michael Grogan.
+
+"Good morning, Mr. Grogan," said Miss Masters cordially.
+
+Grogan made no reply. The girl went on with her work. Then as if
+communing with herself she said: "And yet they say the Irish are always
+polite."
+
+"Eh?" said Grogan, rousing himself, "what's that?"
+
+Miss Masters vouchsafed no reply. She merely laughed. Grogan, conscious
+that he was being chaffed, stared at her. He was pleased with what he
+saw. He found Miss Masters handsome. Her office dress, slit at the bottom
+and displaying at this moment a neat ankle, was ruched about the neck and
+sleeves. It was a rather elaborate dress for a stenographer, but John
+Boland was a vain man and liked to have the employes he kept close about
+him maintain the appearance of prosperity. In fact, he paid these
+particular employes well with the explicit understanding that they would
+keep their appearance up to his standard.
+
+"You're making light of me gray hairs, I see," said Mr. Grogan, smiling.
+
+"Well," said the girl, "I said good morning to you and you didn't even
+grunt in reply."
+
+"The top of the morning to you, Miss Masters," said Grogan, hastening to
+remedy his oversight and removing his hat with an ornate bow.
+
+"Sure, and I'm wishing you the same and many of them," replied the girl.
+
+Mr. Grogan bowed again and added:
+
+"And, if I have failed in the politeness due a lady, I begs yer pardon."
+
+"You're forgiven, Mr. Grogan," replied Miss Masters, resuming her work.
+
+Grogan returned to his meditations. He was regarding his mutilated cigar
+ruefully when Miss Masters observed:
+
+"If all of the millionaires were as thorough gentlemen as you are, Mr.
+Grogan, we wouldn't have any labor unions."
+
+The word millionaire seemed to sting Grogan.
+
+"I'll thank you," he said abruptly, "to leave me out of the millionaire
+class."
+
+"Why, Mr. Grogan," said the girl, surprised, "I thought you'd like that!"
+
+"So would I--wanst," retorted Grogan, "but now when any one says 'you
+millionaire,' faith, I get ready to dodge a brick."
+
+"I should think it would be pleasant to know you had a million dollars."
+There was a note of envy in the girl's voice.
+
+Grogan rose slowly, walked to the desk and leaned across it confidentially.
+
+"So it always was," he said sententiously, "but now they're beginning to
+ask, 'Where did you get it?'"
+
+"Oh," said the girl.
+
+"It's not 'Oh,' I'm saying," said Grogan, "it's 'Ouch!'"
+
+"Something's disturbing you, eh?"
+
+"Something--and somebody. 'Tis a girl."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Grogan!"
+
+"Whist!" retorted Mr. Grogan, "You don't get me meaning. It's not the
+kind you buy ice cream sodies for. No! This lady has a club in her fist
+and a punch in both elbows."
+
+"For you?"
+
+"I suspicion so, and I'm oneasy in me mind."
+
+"It's silly to worry, Mr. Grogan," said Miss Masters, "sit down and look
+over the papers." She extended a morning newspaper, smiling.
+
+"I may as well." Grogan took up the paper and selected a chair.
+
+"Stirring times in Chicago, just now," said the young woman.
+
+"They're stirring, all right," Grogan agreed. "They're too stirring. What I
+want is peace. I'd like to pass the rest of my days in quiet--quiet--and--"
+
+The sentence expired on his lips as he stared at the front page of the
+paper held open in his hands.
+
+"What's the matter, Mr. Grogan," said Miss Masters starting up, alarmed.
+
+Grogan wiped his forehead and moistened his lips.
+
+"Nothing," he said, "it's hot and I'm--I'm--"
+
+He threw the newspaper on the floor.
+
+"Here," he said, "give me another newspaper."
+
+The girl picked up another paper from the heap on the corner of the desk
+and passed it across to him. Grogan looked at the headlines.
+
+"Help--murder," he cried. Then he cast the paper on the floor and got to
+his feet abruptly.
+
+"Mr. Grogan," asked the girl, "what is the matter?"
+
+"I asked for quiet," Grogan replied, picking up the papers and shaking
+them angrily, "and on the front page of this paper is a letter written
+and signed by Mary Randall."
+
+"And why should Mary Randall disturb you?"
+
+"Do you know she writes to me?"
+
+"Writes to you?"
+
+"She does."
+
+"What does she say?"
+
+"Everything--and then some," was the grim response. "Don't laugh!" he
+ordered. "Here's one of the last of them." Grogan took a dark blue
+envelope from his pocket, extracted a single sheet of the same color and
+read.
+
+"Michael Grogan:--Do you remember what your old Irish mother said to you
+when you left Old Erin to seek your fortune in the new world? She said:
+'Mike, me boy, don't soil your hands with dirty money.' Mary Randall."
+
+"Don't soil your hands with dirty money," repeated Miss Masters.
+
+"That's a nice billy dux to find beside your plate at breakfast, ain't it
+now?" demanded Grogan. Then after a pause he murmured half to himself,
+
+"Me old Irish mother, God bless her, with her white hair and her sweet
+Connemara face! I can see her now, just as she stood there that day in
+the door of our cabin when I went off up the road, a slip of a boy, with
+a big bag of oatmeal over me shoulder--one shirt and me Irish fighting
+spirit. That was me capital in life, that and her blessing. She's
+sleeping there now, and the shamrock is growing over her--"
+
+Grogan stopped. His voice had grown husky.
+
+"Say," he demanded turning on Miss Masters abruptly, "why don't you make
+me stop? Don't you see I'm breaking me heart?"
+
+The girl had really been moved. "I can't," she said, "because--" She got
+out her powder puff and proceeded hastily to decorate her nose. She was
+still engaged in this operation when the telephone rang. Grogan started.
+
+"What's that?" he demanded.
+
+"Why, it's only the telephone. What is the matter with you, Mr. Grogan?"
+
+"I dunno," responded Grogan despondently, "I'm as nervous as a girl in a
+peek-a-boo waist."
+
+The telephone rang again.
+
+"Why don't you answer that?" demanded Grogan sharply.
+
+"I will," replied the girl, "but there's no great rush, is there?"
+
+"Yes there is," insisted Grogan, "I can't bear the suspense."
+
+The young woman laughed and picked up the receiver.
+
+"Lake City Electrical Company," she said. "What? Who is it, please."
+
+Grogan, who had continued pacing up and down the office, stopped and made
+wild gestures to Miss Masters. Covering the mouthpiece of the instrument
+so she would not be heard, the girl asked.
+
+"What is it, Mr. Grogan?"
+
+"Whist!" replied Grogan, "If that is Mary Randall on the wire there, I've
+gone to Alaska. I've given all me money away and I'm living on snow
+balls."
+
+Miss Masters smiled and replied with assurance: "This isn't Mary
+Randall."
+
+"Thank God for that," breathed Grogan.
+
+"Hello," went on Miss Masters into the telephone. "Oh, you're long
+distance? Well?"
+
+There was a pause.
+
+"I'm sorry, but Mr. Harry Boland hasn't come downtown yet."
+
+"He may be in any moment--shall I--"
+
+She broke off sharply as Harry himself came in the door drawing off his
+gloves.
+
+"Wait! Just a moment please," she went on. "He has just come in."
+
+"Someone for me, Miss Masters?" the young man inquired, hanging up his
+hat on a rack by the door. Without waiting for a reply he turned to
+Grogan. "Good morning, Mike."
+
+"'Tis a fine day--I hope," returned Grogan cautiously.
+
+"Yes, someone calling you, Mr. Boland," broke in Miss Masters.
+
+"Don't want to talk to anyone," said the young man curtly.
+
+"Hello, hello," continued Miss Masters at the telephone. "Hello, long
+distance? Mr. Boland is too busy--"
+
+"Wait, please," interrupted Harry quickly, "did you say 'long distance?'"
+
+Miss Masters nodded. "Just a moment," she said into the telephone.
+
+"Yes, Mr. Boland," she said. "It's a long distance. Some one wants to
+talk to you in--Millville, Illinois."
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XII
+
+                         BAD NEWS FROM MILLVILLE
+
+
+The word Millville had an instantaneous effect on Harry Boland. It was,
+in fact, the most pleasant sound he had heard in days. Upon returning to
+Chicago after his lover-like interview with Patience Welcome he had
+dispatched a long letter to her. To this he had received no reply. Then
+he wrote two letters in one day. Neither of them had been answered.
+Thoroughly disturbed now, but too busy to leave Chicago himself, Harry
+had sent his confidential man, John Clark, to Millville to learn, if
+possible, the cause of Patience's silence.
+
+While Harry stood eagerly waiting for the 'phone Miss Masters was busy
+getting the long distance connection.
+
+"All right, Mr. Boland," she said at last, "here's your party." Then into
+the telephone she continued: "Yes--Mr. Boland is here waiting. He will
+talk to Millville. Hello--hello--Millville? Hello!" She handed Harry the
+instrument.
+
+"I wouldn't answer that 'phone for a thousand dollars," put in Grogan
+dolefully.
+
+"Hello--hello!" exclaimed Harry.
+
+A shrill whistle rent the air and Grogan jumped hysterically.
+
+"What's that?" he demanded.
+
+"The postman's whistle," replied Miss Masters calmly, repressing a smile
+as she started for the outer door.
+
+"Hello, Millville, hello," called Harry Boland, not getting his
+connection.
+
+Grogan beckoned Miss Masters to his side. "If there's a letter there for
+me in an envelope like this," he said producing the dark blue letter from
+his pocket, "you keep it."
+
+"Really?" Miss Masters now smiled openly.
+
+"Keep it," reiterated Grogan, "don't show it to me or I'll climb up the
+side of the building and jump off."
+
+Miss Masters thoroughly amused vanished into the hall. Meanwhile Harry
+Boland was talking to Millville.
+
+"Millville?" he said. "Yes this is Harry Boland. Oh!" He paused with a
+distinct note of disappointment in his voice. "Oh, it's you, Clark? Yes I
+know--You've something to report about the Welcomes."
+
+"The Welcome family," said Grogan, pricking up his ears.
+
+"All right, I'm listening," Harry went on. "Yes, I get you."
+
+"Look at that now," continued Grogan reflectively.
+
+"No, no, you needn't wait there any longer--All right."
+
+He hung up the receiver.
+
+"Asking your pardon," ventured Grogan, "may I take the liberty of an old
+friend to inquire what Mr. Boland wants with a bum family like the
+Welcomes--"
+
+"Just a moment, Mike," interrupted Harry putting out his hand
+imperatively. "You're speaking of the girl I mean to marry."
+
+Grogan gaped at the young man.
+
+"I am?" he gasped.
+
+"You are," replied the other. He rose to his feet and turned tranquilly
+toward Grogan. "Now what are you going to say?" he inquired.
+
+"Nothing," said Grogan, too surprised to talk.
+
+"All right," replied Harry pointedly.
+
+"But the old man is no good," hazarded Grogan. "Tom Welcome is a
+worthless--"
+
+"He's dead, Mike," interrupted Harry.
+
+"What?" This was a day of surprises for Grogan.
+
+"He's dead," repeated Harry, "died the night we left Millville."
+
+"Well," Grogan's manner had changed. "There were some good points about
+the man, after all. I've heard he'd never take a drink alone--if he could
+avoid it."
+
+"And the Welcome family has moved away," Harry went on.
+
+"Where?"
+
+"No one knows. I've been too busy to investigate myself so I sent Clark
+to locate them."
+
+"Aha," said Grogan. "Then it was Clark you were talking to?"
+
+"Of course," replied Harry impatiently, "didn't you hear?"
+
+"Yes, yes, but--" Grogan broke off abruptly. "Say, didn't that fat fellow
+who was going to be a detective, the fellow who nearly killed me riding
+on his grocery wagon, didn't he know anything?"
+
+"He's left Millville, too."
+
+"What!" exclaimed Grogan incredulously. "Do you mean to say a bunch like
+that can drop out of a town like Millville without anyone knowing where
+they've gone?"
+
+"I'm not telling you. The facts speak for themselves," said Harry.
+
+Both men were silent.
+
+"Mike," said young Boland suddenly.
+
+"Yes," responded Grogan.
+
+"You were married?"
+
+The Irishman was too surprised by the question to answer.
+
+"I've heard you speak about your wife," Harry insisted.
+
+Grogan still vouchsafed no answer. He stood staring at Boland.
+
+"I've heard you speak of your wife, Norah," repeated Harry, "in a way
+that made me feel how sacred her memory was to you. She married you, a
+husky young Irish laborer in the mills, and how that little woman worked
+for you, toiling, saving, scrimping, tending the babies as they came! How
+you worshiped her, and big man as you were, how a word from her would
+make you kneel at her feet. You held her in your arms when the little
+mounds were raised in the church yard--"
+
+Grogan listened in silence, deeply moved. He put out his hand and grasped
+Harry's firmly.
+
+"That's the way I love Patience Welcome, Mike," went on Harry, "just as
+you loved Norah McGuire."
+
+"Well," broke in Grogan huskily, "I didn't know--I--" He turned suddenly
+and demanded, "Well then, why in hell don't you find her?"
+
+"I'm going to try."
+
+"And I'll help ye!"
+
+"Good old Mike," said Harry, putting his arm around Grogan's shoulders,
+"Aha, you can't beat the Irish!"
+
+"Yes, you can," responded Grogan, "but they won't stay beaten."
+
+The conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Boland senior. He
+hung up his hat, took off his gloves and rubbed his hands together.
+
+"Ah," he said, "good morning Harry--Mike."
+
+"Morning, Governor," returned Harry tersely. Grogan acknowledged the
+salutation with a grunt.
+
+"Have Miss Masters make out a lease for that house in South Twelfth
+street," went on the elder Boland briskly. He laid some papers on the
+table. "Here is the copy of the present lease with the necessary changes
+noted."
+
+"Who's the lessee?" inquired Harry carelessly.
+
+"Carter Anson."
+
+"What!" exclaimed Harry in amazement.
+
+"Well, well, what's the matter?" demanded the father.
+
+"Ask Mike," said the young man turning with a smile to Grogan.
+
+"I refuse to answer any questions," declared Grogan. "'Tis a little rule
+I learned in politics."
+
+"Carter Anson is going to be indicted by the grand jury," Harry informed
+his father.
+
+"Ah," said John Boland, "you've been reading the yellow journals."
+
+"They're yellow," conceded Harry, "because they contain so many golden
+truths."
+
+"Mary Randall, please write," sneered the elder Boland.
+
+"Stop! No!" Grogan, who had been sitting down jumped to his feet in
+protest. The others looked at him in astonishment. He sat down again
+shamefacedly. "I don't want Mary Randall to write to me," he admitted
+dolefully.
+
+"What's come over you, Grogan?" inquired John Boland sharply.
+
+"A blue envelope--a sheet of blue paper with words on it, and--I've got a
+pain in the back of my neck." Grogan brought forth the blue letter again
+and gazed at it gloomily.
+
+"You're crazy," John Boland informed him curtly. Then he turned to Harry.
+"Look here, my boy," he said, "don't be a fool--"
+
+"He's your son," interrupted Grogan chuckling.
+
+"Keep quiet, Mike. You know, Harry, I own that property with Mike here,
+and--"
+
+Grogan interrupted again. "Look here, John Boland," he inquired, "how
+much will you give me for my share?"
+
+"Two thousand dollars."
+
+"It's yours," said Grogan.
+
+"Why it's worth double that!" exclaimed John Boland.
+
+"Never mind that. It's yours," repeated Grogan. "I'll give two thousand
+for my peace of mind any day."
+
+"Are you crazy?"
+
+"Not yet--but I'm headed that way. Take it at two thousand and I'll love
+you, John."
+
+"All right."
+
+"But, Governor," protested Harry, "don't you know--"
+
+"Now don't let a fool reform wave scare you," burst out the father
+irritably. "Did you ever see a vice investigation get anywhere? Never!
+Just a lot of talk and--letters."
+
+Miss Masters appeared with a package of letters in her hands. "Mail, Mr.
+Boland," she said. She began sorting the letters. "Four for you, Mr.
+Boland," she went on, "and a special for Mr. Harry Boland."
+
+Grogan had been watching her intently. He breathed deeply and muttered:
+"Sure and I'm an old fool. Why should I be afraid of letters? Who could
+write--"
+
+Miss Masters interrupted. "And one for you, Mr. Grogan," she said
+casually.
+
+Grogan dropped into his chair crying: "Help!" Then cautiously he took the
+letter from Miss Masters. The envelope was white and he heaved a sigh of
+relief.
+
+"What the deuce ails you this morning, Grogan?" demanded John Boland
+irritated.
+
+"I'm getting second sight," returned Grogan gloomily, "and I don't like
+it."
+
+"Oh, don't be a fool." John Boland began opening his mail. "All this
+investigating," he continued, "this talk of a minimum wage law, is just
+talk and that's all. Now take this crazy woman--Mary Randall--"
+
+While he spoke he had opened a letter containing a second enclosure. It
+was an envelope of a peculiar shape and its color was dark blue.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIII
+
+                THE READER MEETS ANOTHER OLD ACQUAINTANCE
+
+
+The sight of the blue envelope had transfixed Grogan. He stood staring at
+it like a man in the presence of a ghost.
+
+"The blue envelope, again," he cried. "A harpoon for you, John."
+
+John Boland made no reply. He reached for his paper knife, ripped open
+the envelope and drew forth a sheet of blue note paper. He read with a
+gathering frown what had been written on it. Then he reread it, muttering
+under his breath.
+
+"Does it hurt you much, John?" inquired Grogan, enjoying the other's
+discomfiture.
+
+For answer the elder Boland scrutinized Grogan over his glasses.
+
+"What do you know about this, Mike?" he demanded.
+
+"Only that I got one of those blue bombs myself this morning," retorted
+Grogan.
+
+"Listen to this." John Boland flourished the envelope angrily. "'The
+owner of property who leases same to vice is morally responsible for the
+crimes committed on his premises. Mary Randall.'"
+
+He turned to Grogan. "What do you think of that?" he asked.
+
+"She's hit home," replied Grogan grimly.
+
+"Damn her, for a brazen busybody," blurted Boland angrily. "Why doesn't
+she mind her own business?"
+
+Meanwhile Harry was opening an envelope the exact counterpart of his
+father's. He read the note twice and stood considering its import.
+
+"Another of 'em?" said the elder Boland. "Well, what's yours, Harry?"
+
+"Mine?--Oh,--mine--why," the young man faltered.
+
+"Well, well, can't you speak?" demanded the father irritably.
+
+Harry returned no direct reply. Opening his note he read:
+
+"'We count on young men like you, Harry Boland, to lead the fight we are
+making to save our Little Lost Sisters. Mary Randall.'"
+
+"Now," chuckled Grogan, "you know how I felt when I got my little blue
+envelope this morning." As he spoke he tore off the end of the envelope
+which he had held unnoticed. Inserting his finger and thumb into the
+envelope he went on:
+
+"Do you know, I never did like the color of blue--"
+
+He broke off as he lowered his eyes to the enclosure he had brought out.
+It was another blue letter. Grogan started up and jerked out the note.
+Holding it at arms' distance he read:
+
+"'The strength of Ireland is in the purity of her sons and daughters.
+Mary Randall.'"
+
+The three men stood staring at each other in amazement.
+
+"Mary Randall." John Boland broke the silence with a sneer.
+
+"Mary Randall," repeated Harry quietly.
+
+"Oh you Mary Randall!" put in Grogan with just a touch of admiration in
+his voice. "She's the lady champion lightweight. Three knock-outs in
+three minutes. 'Tis a world's record!" He turned to the elder Boland.
+"Does the punch she gave you hurt much?" he inquired.
+
+Boland glared at Grogan. "Who the devil is Mary Randall?" he demanded.
+
+"I've never met her," replied Harry. "She's a member of the wealthy
+Randall family. Her mother died when she was young and I understand she
+was brought up very quietly."
+
+"Do you know her, Miss Masters," persisted Boland.
+
+The girl was startled, "I--why--I?" she hesitated.
+
+"Yes--yes," said Harry, "do you know her?"
+
+The girl still hesitated and Grogan broke in.
+
+"You're a woman, Miss Masters," he said, "you ought to know all the
+feminine quirks. Now it's up to you. Who's Mary Randall?"
+
+"Mary Randall is a wealthy girl," said Miss Masters calmly. "She has
+grown weary of the foolish methods you men have employed in attacking the
+vice problem. Convinced of your total incompetence she has started out
+really to do something."
+
+"What does she want?" snorted John Boland.
+
+"She said in a printed letter," replied Miss Masters, "that she wanted to
+put several property owners and crooked senators in jail."
+
+Grogan was impressed by this statement.
+
+"Do you want to buy the rest of my South Side property, John?" he
+inquired of Boland.
+
+"Doesn't she know she's disturbing business?" asked Boland of Miss
+Masters, ignoring Grogan.
+
+"Mary Randall also said," the girl replied, "that the greatest business
+in the world is that of redeeming 'Little Lost Sisters.'"
+
+"You see, you see," said Grogan, "the farther you go, John, the more
+punches you get."
+
+"I haven't time to bother with this foolishness," said Boland. "I've got
+a big contract on with the Simmons people."
+
+He went to the door of his son's office.
+
+"Come on Harry--you too Mike. Come in, Miss Masters, and take down this
+contract."
+
+The three men started toward the door. As Grogan passed Miss Masters he
+whispered: "Young woman, if any more blue skyrockets come for me, play
+the hose on them."
+
+"Very well," said the girl, smiling.
+
+Having secured her notebook she started toward the inner office when a
+smartly dressed young man entered.
+
+"Hello girlie," he said, intercepting her.
+
+"Good morning," replied Miss Masters primly. "What's your business?"
+
+"Oh, just like that, eh?" said the youth.
+
+"Yes," replied the girl sharply. "What do you want?"
+
+"Mr. John Boland."
+
+"You can't see him now. He's busy."
+
+There was a sharp, impatient call from the inner office.
+
+"Yes sir, I'm coming," replied the girl.
+
+"Well, be quick about it," returned the voice. "Do you think I can wait
+all day?"
+
+"That's John Boland, isn't it?" inquired the man eagerly.
+
+Miss Masters nodded assent.
+
+"Well, tell him--"
+
+"I'm sorry," broke in the girl, "but he's busy. He won't see anyone."
+
+"Well then, tell him when you can that Martin Druce called."
+
+"Martin Druce!" Miss Masters kept her eyes on the blank page before her,
+but she made no effort to make a memorandum of the name. She added
+slowly:
+
+"You called on the 'phone this morning."
+
+"I sure did." Druce, with the familiarity of an old acquaintance, began
+toying with the silver vanity box Miss Randall wore suspended from her
+neck. "Say," he went on insinuatingly, "you have the sweetest voice--"
+
+"Better tell me why you want to see Mr. Boland," she said quietly taking
+the vanity box from him and putting him at a distance. At the same time
+she smiled at him archly.
+
+"Just want to renew a lease--the Cafe Sinister."
+
+"Oh," said the girl, "I've heard of it."
+
+"It's some swell place," replied Druce with pride.
+
+"Yes?" said the girl. She pantomimed counting money. "Yes, as long as you
+can keep the police asleep."
+
+"What in--what the deuce do you mean?" Druce inquired quickly.
+
+Miss Masters shrugged her shoulders. Again she smiled at him archly.
+
+"Oh, you're wise, eh?" Druce laughed. He felt that he was on familiar
+ground with this girl. There was that in her manner that indicated the
+wisdom of the demi-monde. He thought he had placed her.
+
+"You're wise, eh?" he repeated. The girl had maneuvered to place a table
+between them. He leaned against the table and placed a hand on hers.
+
+"Why does a fine looker like you spend her life pounding a typewriter?"
+
+"Would you advise a change?"
+
+"You could make a hundred a week in the cabarets," declared Druce
+admiringly.
+
+"Perhaps," replied Miss Masters. She picked up her notebook and started
+for the inner office. "But I know where that road leads."
+
+Druce was daunted with this reply. It wasn't at all what he had expected.
+
+"Oh," he jeered, "you're one of the goody-goody kind, are you? Fare you
+well. I'll see you in church Sunday."
+
+The girl was now at the inner office door. She turned and eyed Druce
+narrowly.
+
+"Thank you," she replied without anger.
+
+"Perhaps, some day, I'll see you wearing stripes and looking through iron
+bars!"
+
+The door shut swiftly behind her, leaving Druce staring at the panels.
+
+"What do you know about that," he spoke aloud, though there was no one in
+the outer office to hear him.
+
+"Never mind, kid--you're no boob, anyway." He turned on his heel and
+walked out.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XIV
+
+                 IN WHICH THE WOLF IS BITTEN BY THE LAMB
+
+
+John Boland was a very capable business man. He possessed the combination
+of shrewdness, ability to grasp and marshal details, and that utter
+selfishness which the world from time immemorial has rewarded with huge
+accumulations of money. He had one of those minds which find their
+recreation in intrigue. Unembarrassed by a conscience and unhampered by
+scruples he drove directly to his goal--success.
+
+As head of the Electric Trust Boland was compelled to be at once a
+financier and a politician. The faculties for success in both fields are
+closely allied; in both Boland was eminently triumphant. Sitting in his
+office day after day, unmoved by events that might have disturbed other
+men and unstirred by emotions that might have turned other men from their
+paths, he looked out over the city and "played his game" with all the
+cold impassiveness of a gambler operating an infallible system in
+roulette. No detail was too small to escape his notice, no agent too
+ignoble to serve his purpose.
+
+These facts are mentioned to explain the relationship that existed
+between John Boland and Martin Druce. In these two men, the social
+extremes of the city met--Boland, the financial power and leading
+citizen; Druce, the dive keeper and social outcast. They met because
+Boland wished it. Druce was one of the creatures that he could and often
+did use in his business.
+
+Although ostensibly ignorant of the very existence of Druce, Boland in
+reality had the man often in his thoughts. He kept these thoughts hidden
+in that inner chamber of his mind from which, from time to time, emerged
+those inspirations that had made his name a by-word on La Salle street
+for supernatural astuteness. Not even the most intimate of his coworkers
+guessed them.
+
+For nearly a month now Druce had been calling at Boland's offices intent
+on obtaining a renewal of his lease to the Cafe Sinister. During that
+entire month he had never been able to obtain even a word with the master
+financier. Boland had purposely refused to grant the interview so
+frequently requested by Druce not because he had any repugnance against
+doing business with the dive keeper but because to his mind there had
+never appeared any good reason why he should grant that interview. He
+played the waiting game with Druce because he had found by profitable
+experience that the waiting game paid John Boland best. The time might
+come when he would be able to use so excellent a tool as Druce to its
+best advantage. Boland was waiting calmly for that time. If Druce
+suffered in the interim John Boland was unable to see how that was any of
+his concern. In fact, Boland figured, the more Druce suffered, the keener
+a tool he would be for his purposes.
+
+Druce guessed something of this. He too possessed a mind adapted to
+intrigue. Therefore every rebuff from Boland found him undaunted. He knew
+that his time must come. He called at Boland's offices again and again,
+smiling always in the face of denial.
+
+Of late a new incentive for calling at the Electric Trust's offices had
+developed for Druce. This was furnished by Miss Masters. The girl's
+charming looks had aroused the man's curiosity and cunning. Her air of
+worldly wisdom, her alternate repulses and advances, had stirred him as
+he had rarely been stirred before. In his eagerness to possess her he
+almost lost sight of the main object of his visits.
+
+But whether by accident or design Druce was never able to get a word with
+the girl alone. She was always, save on the sole occasion of his last
+visit, either engaged with Harry Boland's dictation, or, if in the outer
+office, chaperoned by Harry Boland's red-headed office boy. One day Druce
+met Red in the lower corridor of the Electric Trust building. The boy
+grinned knowingly at him and yelled as he hurried by.
+
+"I'll be back in a minute."
+
+"Don't hurry on my account," answered Druce, but at the moment it came to
+him that Red's chaperonage of Miss Masters might not be entirely
+accidental.
+
+Druce stepped into the elevator and was let out at the Electric Trust's
+offices. He entered and found the offices empty.
+
+"Hang the little fool," he said, "she doesn't know which side her bread
+is--"
+
+"Meaning whom?" inquired Miss Masters' saccharine voice.
+
+Druce turned quickly and saw Miss Masters coming from the inner office.
+He was impressed by the attractiveness of her dress.
+
+"Where does she get all the glad rags?" he demanded of himself. "Maybe
+old Boland--"
+
+"Who's a little fool?" persisted Miss Masters.
+
+"Nobody," returned Druce. "Just talking to myself. Mr. Boland's out or
+busy, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes, Mr. Boland's out," replied Miss Masters. She sat down at a
+typewriter and inserted a sheet of paper in the machine. "He left a
+message for you, however. He told me this morning that if you called I
+should ask you to 'phone him about twelve o'clock. He'll try to see you
+then for a moment."
+
+"All right," said Druce, "thanks." But he made no move to go. He watched
+the girl as she hammered the typewriter keys. Presently she looked up at
+him inquiringly.
+
+This to Druce appeared to be a direct offer to open a conversation. He
+hastened to take advantage of it.
+
+"Yes," he replied in his most ingratiating manner, drawing near her. "I
+want to talk to you. I have been dying to speak to you alone, girlie--"
+
+The girl rose from her chair and picked up her notebook.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Druce," she said.
+
+"Yes, girlie."
+
+Miss Masters opened the notebook and took a lead pencil from the shining
+rolls of her hair.
+
+"I have to keep a record of all callers," said the girl unexpectedly.
+"Mr. Boland is very particular about it. Let me see, your name is Martin
+Druce?"
+
+She wrote the name into her book and showed it to him.
+
+"I have the name correctly, haven't I, Mr. Druce?" she went on.
+
+"Rather tardy with your duties, aren't you?" inquired Druce with a smile.
+"I've been coming here for some days now and you haven't wanted to put me
+into your book before."
+
+"Perhaps," replied the girl, "I haven't noticed you."
+
+Druce was sure now that he was beginning a flirtation with her.
+
+"And your business?" continued the girl.
+
+"Oh, Boland knows my business," replied Druce, with an air of
+carelessness.
+
+"No doubt he does, but I don't. And how can I keep my records properly if
+I don't know? I can't bother Mr. Boland with these details. What is your
+business?"
+
+"Why--ah--" hesitated Druce. "Live stock."
+
+"What kind of live stock?" persisted Miss Masters, preparing to write
+down his answer.
+
+"Eh!" Druce began to feel that he was being badgered.
+
+"What kind of live stock do you deal in?"
+
+"See here," snarled Druce, "what are you trying to do?"
+
+Miss Masters' answer was perfectly calm. "I am trying," she said, "to
+find out what kind of live stock you deal in, Mr. Druce."
+
+"Forget it!"
+
+"Are you ashamed to tell me?"
+
+Druce turned on the girl as though stung.
+
+"Why should I be ashamed?" he blustered. He moved toward the door.
+
+"I'll know that," replied Miss Masters, "when you tell me what kind of
+live stock you deal in."
+
+There was a stern quality in Miss Masters' voice that Druce had noticed
+in the voice of a district attorney with whom he had once had an
+unpleasant interview. The man was a coward. He wanted to be off.
+
+"Every kind," he blurted. "Good day."
+
+A moment later he found himself in the hallway. "Red," the office boy,
+had just come from the elevator.
+
+"What's the trouble, Druce?" demanded the boy. "You look pale around the
+gills."
+
+"You go to hell, you little rat," retorted Druce, and without waiting for
+the elevator vanished down the steps, with the jeering laughter of the
+boy ringing in his ears.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XV
+
+                  THE SEARCH BEGINS FOR THE LOST SISTER
+
+
+There was nothing in Miss Masters' manner after Druce had made his hasty
+departure to indicate that she felt any thrills of triumph over the
+completeness of the dive keeper's rout. On the contrary she seemed
+unaccountably depressed. She sat down at her typewriter thinking deeply.
+Presently her meditations were disturbed.
+
+The door opened quietly. A man entered who, in spite of the shabbiness of
+his clothing, his emaciation and the haggardness of his features the
+reader would have had no difficulty in recognizing. He was Harvey
+Spencer. He stood in the open door looking at the girl uncertainly. She
+took him in in a glance.
+
+"Good morning," she said sympathetically. "You are looking for someone
+here?"
+
+"I was," replied Harvey enigmatically, "but he's gone."
+
+"Gone?" repeated the girl.
+
+"Yes," replied the caller quickly, "perhaps you can give me some
+information. That man, who stepped in here a moment ago--you know who he
+is?"
+
+"Yes," replied the girl, "his name is Martin Druce."
+
+"That's his name, yes--what's his business?"
+
+"Live stock, he says," replied Miss Masters in some surprise.
+
+"You know where he lives?"
+
+"No. Won't you sit down?"
+
+"I can't. I'm following him."
+
+The girl was bewildered. "Are you a detective?" she inquired.
+
+The question produced an extraordinary effect on the young man. He threw
+up his head and gave vent to a short, sharp exclamation.
+
+"Ha!" he said. "No," he went on, "I once thought I was a detective, but I
+woke up." Then he started for the door. "Thank you," he said. As he
+reached for the knob he reeled and clutched at the wall for support. Miss
+Masters started toward him.
+
+"Come," she said, "sit down. Aren't you feeling ill? Let me get you a
+glass of water."
+
+She drew a glass full from a cooler and carried it to the young man.
+
+"It's warm," she said, "you're exhausted."
+
+Harvey gulped the contents of the glass, and looked at Miss Masters
+mournfully.
+
+"Thanks," he said. "Yes--mighty warm."
+
+"Looking for a job?" inquired Miss Masters.
+
+"I ought to be," was the reply.
+
+"Why aren't you?"
+
+"Because," Harvey's despondency deepened, "I'm looking for a girl."
+
+"A girl from down state?"
+
+"How did you know that?"
+
+"Why," replied Miss Masters, "you don't belong to Chicago. Your clothes
+tell me that. And the girl--she was from your own town?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Tell me about it?" Miss Masters' manner was friendly. She drew a chair
+and sat down opposite the young man. Harvey was so moved by this unlocked
+for sympathy that tears filled his eyes.
+
+"Her name," he said huskily, "was Elsie Welcome. She ran away. Her father
+had beaten her. On the night she left the father died. We were to have
+been married. I learned that she had come to Chicago with this
+man--Martin Druce. I followed her. For days I have tramped the streets.
+Today I caught a glimpse of Druce as he entered an elevator in this
+building. I had just reached here when I lost sight of him."
+
+The door behind him opened slowly. Miss Masters looked up to see a gray
+haired woman enter. She wore a waist and skirt of dead black with a
+little old fashioned black bonnet. Her face was sweet with motherliness,
+but drawn with sorrow and exhaustion.
+
+"Harvey," she said.
+
+Harvey turned and hurried to her side.
+
+"I saw you come in here, Harvey," the woman went on, "so I followed. I
+hope we're not intruding Miss--"
+
+"Masters is my name," responded the stenographer quickly.
+
+"This is the girl's mother," said Harvey. "This is Mrs. Martha Welcome."
+
+Miss Masters hastened to bring another chair.
+
+"And your daughter," she asked quickly, "have you--"
+
+"I--I don't think there was anything wrong in Elsie's going away,"
+interrupted Mrs. Welcome. "She wasn't happy and her father--"
+
+"Her father beat her," said Harvey wrathfully.
+
+"Harvey," chided Mrs. Welcome, "Tom's dead. He wasn't a bad man, Miss
+Masters. He lost his courage when he lost his invention."
+
+"I understand," said Miss Masters sympathetically. "You haven't heard
+anything from your lost girl?"
+
+"No," replied Mrs; Welcome sadly, "not a word. Patience and I and Harvey
+came to the city hoping to find her--"
+
+"Patience?"
+
+"She's my other daughter," replied Mrs. Welcome, "two years older. Elsie
+was my baby." Her voice broke.
+
+"I'm wondering," she went on in subdued tones, "if she's all right. I've
+prayed, too. Seems as though I've prayed every minute that God would
+bring my baby back to me. You don't think it makes any difference, do
+you, Miss Masters, even if we are in a great, noisy city? God is here,
+too, isn't he?"
+
+She put out her hand impulsively and Miss Masters took it into her own
+cool palm.
+
+"Yes, God is here," she replied reverently, "though sometimes it is hard
+to have faith and believe it."
+
+Harvey had walked away and stood looking out at the door.
+
+"Here's Patience," he said suddenly.
+
+Patience Welcome entered almost immediately. She was dressed in the same
+somber black as her mother. She wore a heavy veil pushed back from the
+brim of her hat. Harvey presented her to Miss Masters.
+
+"I've good news for you, mother," exclaimed Patience after acknowledging
+the introduction. "I've got a place in that office I went into when I
+left you. I begin work tomorrow. Then when I came out and missed you I
+was terribly frightened, but the elevator man told me you had come in
+here. And so I found you."
+
+"Your mother has been telling me something about the search for your
+sister," said Miss Masters. "Perhaps I may be able to help you. Could you
+tell me something about it?"
+
+"Thank you," replied Patience, "we need help. It seems as if we had
+exhausted all our own resources. But we mustn't stop now. Mother is worn
+out."
+
+"Perhaps," said Miss Masters, "it would be better if this young man
+should take your mother home. You and I may be able to talk the situation
+over more confidentially if we are alone."
+
+"You think you can help us?" inquired Patience eagerly.
+
+Miss Masters was thoughtful. "Yes," she said, "I believe I have unusual
+facilities for helping you. I know a great deal about Chicago--"
+
+"Then," said Patience, "I'll put our case in your hands. I know I can
+trust you. Somehow, I feel better already."
+
+She took Miss Masters' hands in her own, confidently.
+
+"Yes," returned Miss Masters, a little tremulously, "you can trust me."
+
+Harvey in the meantime had helped Mrs. Welcome with her wraps and was
+leading her toward the door.
+
+"I'll follow in a little while," said Patience, as the two passed out the
+door. "I'll be home in time for supper."
+
+"Now," said Miss Masters, after Harvey and Mrs. Welcome were gone, "first
+tell me if you have any money."
+
+Patience hesitated. Such a question coming from a stranger embarrassed
+her.
+
+"Yes," she said slowly, "I think we have enough money. Harvey brought
+fifty dollars with him and Mother was given some money by a man who came
+to our aid, in Millville--"
+
+"Millville?" interrupted Miss Masters.
+
+"Yes," continued Patience, "that is the town we live in. The man's name
+was Dudley--"
+
+"Dudley!"
+
+Patience looked at Miss Masters in surprise. "You know him?" she asked.
+
+Miss Masters hesitated. "The name seems familiar," she said.
+
+"He was a stranger in Millville," Patience went on. "My mother wired to
+her sister, Sarah, for money after Elsie left us and my father died. My
+aunt sent us forty dollars."
+
+There was a pause after this explanation, then Miss Masters went on
+hesitatingly.
+
+"Forgive me, Miss Welcome," she said, "if I speak plainly to you. Were
+there any strangers in Millville about the time your sister went away?"
+
+"Strangers?" repeated Patience.
+
+"Any attractive young men," pursued Miss Masters.
+
+"Why--why--I--" stammered Patience in confusion.
+
+"There were, I see."
+
+"You don't think my sister--" burst out Patience.
+
+"Forgive me," interrupted Miss Masters, "but when an innocent country
+girl leaves her home suddenly it is a good rule to look for--the man."
+
+"You think some one lured Elsie away?" said Patience stifled by the
+thought. "That some man is to blame?"
+
+"It isn't an easy thing to say, my dear, but I do."
+
+"Aren't there laws against such crimes?"
+
+"Yes," replied Miss Masters, "but these laws were made by men, and men
+have always shown an unwillingness to legislate against their sex. Now
+there were some young men in Millville at the time your sister went away,
+weren't there?"
+
+"Yes," admitted Patience, "two."
+
+"Do you know their names?"
+
+"Martin Druce."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"You know him?"
+
+"I have seen him." Miss Masters opened her memorandum book. "Martin
+Druce," she read, "dealer in live stock."
+
+"Yes," assented Patience, "he told us that was his business."
+
+"And the other stranger, Miss Welcome? Do not hide any of the facts."
+
+"I'd rather not say," replied Patience hesitatingly.
+
+"You had better tell me," urged Miss Masters.
+
+"I--I can't," exclaimed the girl, "it hurts me even to think that he--"
+
+"Better tell me," Miss Masters persisted.
+
+"The other young man," said Patience, "was--Harry Boland."
+
+"What?" exclaimed Miss Masters sharply.
+
+"You know Harry Boland?" Patience flushed and stood up.
+
+"I do. You are in the Bolands' outer offices at this moment."
+
+She had scarcely spoken when the door of Harry Boland's office opened and
+the young man came out.
+
+Patience drew her heavy veil down over her face and darted toward the
+outer door.
+
+"Here is a corrected form of that contract, Miss Masters," said young
+Boland brusquely.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XVI
+
+                     JOHN BOLAND MEETS MARY RANDALL
+
+
+But Patience did not leave the office of the Lake City Electrical Company
+as quickly as she had hoped to do. She was intercepted by the young man,
+who deliberately placed himself between her and the door, effectually
+blocking the way.
+
+He eyed the small figure in black with an inquisitiveness which was
+almost rude, attempting to peer through the meshes of the heavy veil, as
+he spoke to Miss Masters:
+
+"I beg your pardon, I thought you were alone."
+
+Before she could reply a rasping voice called from the inner office:
+
+"Oh, Harry, send Miss Masters in here, will you?"
+
+"The Governor wants you, Miss Masters," said Harry, his eyes still on
+Patience.
+
+"I'm coming, Mr. Boland," proclaimed the stenographer.
+
+With only a glance at her companions, she made a detour of the desk in
+the center of the room and glided into the other office.
+
+"I'm afraid Miss Masters may be kept busy for some time," volunteered
+Harry kindly, "but if--if you care to wait--"
+
+Patience only bowed her head and attempted to pass him; but she caught
+her breath quickly and her body swayed slightly, but perceptibly.
+
+"I beg your pardon," went on Harry, fencing for time.
+
+Again endeavoring to pass him, she staggered and put out one hand to
+steady herself, which Harry clasped quickly.
+
+"Let me help you," he said.
+
+She made a movement to release her hand as she recovered from the
+dizziness which had seized her.
+
+"Better put up your veil, dear," said Harry gently. "I'm sure it is you."
+
+"Please!" pleaded Patience. The word was scarcely audible.
+
+"Put up your veil," he persisted.
+
+When she complied, he gazed into her deep, dark eyes and stroked her hand
+tenderly.
+
+"Did you think I could be in the same room with you and not know you? Oh,
+my dear--"
+
+"No, Harry, no!" protested Patience, withdrawing her hand.
+
+"If you knew how long and patiently I've searched for you, I don't think
+you could be so unkind."
+
+"It's the only safe way," she replied, stepping away from him and
+clutching the back of a chair.
+
+"Why?" he asked as he went close to her again.
+
+"Because--because--"
+
+"Because you do really care for me and you're fighting against yourself."
+
+"Please let me go," begged Patience.
+
+"No!" returned the young man stoutly.
+
+"What shall I do?" she pleaded distractedly.
+
+"Just turn around," was the smiling retort, "and run straight into the
+arms of the man who loves you."
+
+"And bring trouble and sorrow on you? No--no--no!"
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"Please don't ask me," she went on. "I've been through the deep waters of
+grief and suffering. Harry, I've been hungry."
+
+"Hungry!" exclaimed Harry. "Oh, my poor girl, you must let me--"
+
+Patience shook her head slowly, sadly; an eager light of desire for his
+love and tender care illuminated her face.
+
+"Do you love me?" pursued the young man fervently.
+
+"You mustn't ask me that--wait!"
+
+"And lose you again?" He laid his hand on one of hers. "No; I want my
+answer now."
+
+A harsh, commanding voice interrupted them.
+
+"Harry!"
+
+Patience started and drew her hand from beneath the other's touch as an
+elderly man came into the room.
+
+"Governor!" exclaimed Harry, a little surprised, but entirely composed as
+he went on:
+
+"Governor, I want you to meet the young lady who is to be my wife."
+
+"What!" ejaculated John Boland, scarcely believing his own ears.
+
+"Miss Patience Welcome."
+
+"Welcome?" the older man turned his back to conceal the startled
+expression which came over his features.
+
+"Yes. This is my good old dad, Patience," said Harry, laying one arm
+affectionately about his father's shoulders.
+
+"Rather sudden, isn't it?" demanded Boland, senior, in a sharp tone.
+
+But Harry was accustomed to his father's abrupt ways and gave no heed to
+the testiness of the query.
+
+"No, Governor, I met Miss Welcome when I was in Millville."
+
+"Oh, yes," hemmed John Boland, truculently unmindful of the introduction.
+"But just now get that contract off; Miss Masters is waiting."
+
+"All right," assented Harry cheerfully. Then he turned to Patience. "I
+won't be long, dear."
+
+Boland placed himself before his desk, covertly watching from beneath his
+shaggy, lowered brows until his son had disappeared. Then he cleared his
+throat and wheeled upon Patience without ceremony.
+
+"Now, listen, Miss Welcome, you're not taking this seriously, I hope."
+
+"No, Mr. Boland," she replied, moving toward the door. "I've tried to
+tell Harry how impossible it is--that--"
+
+"You're a sensible girl," he broke in bluntly. "As it happens, Harry is
+already engaged."
+
+The girl's breath came in short, sharp gasps, but she managed to control
+her voice as she murmured:
+
+"He is?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Boland placed his fingers in his vest pocket and drew out a fountain pen,
+the point of which he examined attentively. Patience felt that she ought
+to go at once, but somehow she couldn't. She stood there trembling,
+scarcely knowing whether or not she should believe the other's statement.
+She could not believe that Harry would do such an ignoble thing.
+
+Boland glanced over his shoulder and saw her still hesitating on the
+threshold.
+
+"Yes," he repeated blandly. "He is going to marry the daughter of my
+business partner--a girl who will inherit half a million."
+
+He could see from the corner of his eye that the shot had told, but still
+Patience lingered, dazed.
+
+"I--I see," she faltered weakly.
+
+"Now you go along like a good girl," advised Boland, "and I'll see that
+you are treated fairly."
+
+He opened a pretentious looking check book which lay on the desk.
+
+"Just tell me how much you want and--"
+
+"Nothing!" was the firm, decisive reply.
+
+He eyed the girl critically as he remarked:
+
+"You look as though ready money were a stranger to you."
+
+"It is--but I have a position with the Mining Company in this building."
+
+"I know them," declared Boland thoughtfully. Patience made no comment.
+She went on proudly, drawing her figure to its full height:
+
+"And I want nothing; I am _giving_ you back your son, Mr. Boland, I am
+not selling him to you."
+
+He shrugged his shoulders and stared stupidly at the vacant doorway as he
+heard the girlish voice in the hallway, saying:
+
+"Down, please."
+
+He closed his check book with a snap, and involuntarily fumbled about his
+well arranged desk, replacing a paper here and a contract there.
+
+"Hum!" he mused, "I thought there was something wrong with Harry."
+
+The desk telephone rang sharply. He picked up the instrument and placed
+the receiver to his ear.
+
+"Hello! hello!" he jerked out irritably. "Yes--yes, this is John Boland.
+Who wants me?"
+
+His acute features contracted as he listened to the reply.
+
+"Oh, Martin Druce," he said. "Want to see me about the lease of the Cafe
+Sinister, eh?"
+
+His mind worked rapidly while he again listened.
+
+"All right," he blustered finally, "all right, see you in fifteen
+minutes. Yes,--yes, here!"
+
+He hung up the receiver and took a cigar from his pocket, thoughtfully
+biting off the end, as he muttered half aloud:
+
+"Martin Druce, eh? Cafe Sinister--Ah!"
+
+His lips ceased moving as he looked about him. He was still thinking
+deeply; then he struck a match and lighted the cigar at the glowing flame
+which he contemplated for a second before extinguishing it. With a look
+of one who has just solved a problem, he cast aside the charred ember and
+gritted:
+
+"I guess so."
+
+He seized a sheet of paper and rapidly scratched a few words on its white
+surface, settling back comfortably in the big chair as Harry came in.
+
+"All right, Governor," called out the son; but he paused in astonishment
+when he saw that his father was alone. "Why--why, where's Patience?"
+
+"Miss Welcome had to go,--she said," returned the other, calmly puffing
+his cigar.
+
+"Didn't she leave any word for me?"
+
+"Yes, she said she'd see you again."
+
+"When?" asked Harry, impatiently. "Why, I don't even know where she
+lives."
+
+"I thought of that," replied his father, as he handed the memorandum slip
+to Harry, on which he had just written. "Here's her address."
+
+Harry took the bit of paper gratefully, and looked at it.
+
+"Why--"
+
+"What's the matter?" John Boland surveyed the wrapper of his cigar with
+keen interest, deftly closing a small broken place in it.
+
+"This address!" exclaimed Harry.
+
+"Well, what about it?"
+
+"It's in the lowest, most depraved section of the city."
+
+"Yes, I noticed that."
+
+Harry looked up at his father quizzically.
+
+"You did?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Governor," began Harry pointedly, a new idea beginning to dawn upon him,
+"if you do not know that a great deal of your property is rented and used
+for the most immoral purposes how do you know this address so well?"
+
+"Why," spluttered Boland, senior, "I--I've read the papers."
+
+"But this vile section of the city that you own has never been
+published."
+
+"Look here, Harry," demanded his father, aggressively, "do you doubt my
+word?"
+
+"I do," was the firm reply.
+
+"I'm your father," he retorted angrily.
+
+"You are," agreed Harry, "but this is a matter of right and wrong, and
+you can't fool me again as you have all these years."
+
+"I'll show you who's master," threatened John Boland, grimly.
+
+"It's your privilege to try," conceded the son with suppressed anger.
+
+"Hold on--hold on," hedged his father, apologetically, "don't let's get
+mad about it. Finish up that contract and then--"
+
+"And then?"
+
+Harry's manner was alert, defensive, but wholly questioning.
+
+"Then we'll talk this over calmly."
+
+"All right, but Governor--" the young man turned at the door, grasping
+the contract in one hand as he put out the other warningly and pointed
+with his forefinger to the scrap of paper he had laid on the desk, on
+which was written Patience's supposed address: "Let me give you a piece
+of advice. Don't try to fool me."
+
+John Boland stood motionless for a moment looking after his son; then he
+clenched his hand and brought it down on the desk with a forcible thump,
+as he thought:
+
+"I've got to do something--quick."
+
+"Well, made up your mind to see me, did you, Mr. Boland?"
+
+Martin Druce's suave voice recalled Boland from the revery into which he
+had lapsed.
+
+"Yes," he replied quickly, walking to the door through which Harry had
+gone and closing it.
+
+"Now, don't talk," he commanded as he returned to his desk. "Listen! You
+and Anson want a renewal of the lease for the Cafe Sinister, don't you?"
+
+"Sure," responded Druce, affably. "And I suppose you'll raise the rent on
+us."
+
+"No," replied Boland, shaking his head.
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"Not if you're smart."
+
+"I don't get you," announced Druce inquiringly, as he seated himself on
+the edge of the desk.
+
+"My boy, Harry, thinks he is in love with a girl who has come to
+Chicago."
+
+"Yes, Mr. Boland, but I don't see--"
+
+"Now," continued Boland, regardless of the interruption, "if Harry
+happened to see this girl in some questionable resort,--say, like Cafe
+Sinister--if he were tipped off that this girl would be there--"
+
+"I get you." Druce sprang to his feet; he was now keen and alert, like a
+hound on the scent. "Who's the girl?"
+
+"She's got a position of some kind with the Alpha Mining Company on this
+floor," replied Boland. "She'll lose that tomorrow."
+
+"I'm on. What's her name?"
+
+"Patience Welcome!"
+
+"What!" exclaimed Druce, with a sneering twist to the word.
+
+"Do you know her?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well?" Boland gazed at him, anxiously awaiting the reply.
+
+"About the lease?" veered Druce with cunning perception.
+
+Boland hesitated and scrutinized the other closely. He was satisfied with
+what he saw stamped on Druce's face, but he only said pointedly:
+
+"I always make good when a man delivers the goods. Now get out--I'm
+busy."
+
+"On my way," returned Druce easily, as he sauntered to the door, but he
+turned there, saying significantly:
+
+"I'll deliver the goods,--don't worry."
+
+John Boland sighed contentedly as he watched Druce go. Then he muttered:
+
+"There, I guess I--"
+
+"All right, Mr. Boland," rang out a clear feminine voice, as Miss Masters
+came from the inner office. "That contract is all ready."
+
+"Oh, Miss Masters!"
+
+"Yes, Mr. Boland," she replied in saccharine tones.
+
+"Make out a lease for that property in South Twelfth street."
+
+"For the Cafe Sinister, John?" inquired Michael Grogan, who had followed
+Miss Masters into the main office. "You're crazy."
+
+"Oh, shut up, Mike," snapped Boland. "What ails you, anyway?"
+
+"I've been reading the last edition," replied Grogan, lugubriously. "Mary
+Randall has had special officers sworn in at her own expense to help her
+make raids. She's put goose flesh all over me."
+
+"Let me see it."
+
+Boland took the paper which Grogan was fingering nervously.
+
+"Take it," said the Irishman. "It's a live coal."
+
+The other glanced over the sheet and threw it on the desk.
+
+"Get busy on that lease, Miss Masters," he commanded.
+
+"Just a moment, Governor," interrupted Harry, who had overheard the
+conversation as he came in. "If you lease that property to that hound,
+Anson, you and I are through."
+
+"What?" exclaimed John Boland, astounded.
+
+"It has come to a show-down," went on Harry, with determination expressed
+in both his tone and manner, "and I'm damned if I'll touch a cent of
+dirty money like that."
+
+"You've been reading the Mary Randall stuff, eh?" sneered his father.
+
+"Yes. And she's right. Now, you make your choice."
+
+"Hold on--hold on," commanded the irate father. "Aren't you forgetting
+that I own and control this Lake City Company--that you are--"
+
+"No! I realize that," retorted Harry, resolutely.
+
+"All right!" Boland turned to Miss Masters grimly: "Make out that lease
+to Anson."
+
+"Then here," said Harry quietly, as he wrote a few words on a sheet of
+blank paper and laid it on the desk; "here is my resignation as president
+of your Electrical Company, to take effect _now_."
+
+"Harry!" protested his father.
+
+"I'll get my personal things together at once," went on the young man,
+securing his hat from the rack.
+
+"This has gone far enough," rasped John Boland, springing to his feet.
+"I'll show this Mary Randall there's one she can't scare."
+
+He paced nervously up and down the office, pausing finally beside his
+desk.
+
+"Miss Masters, take an open letter from me to the newspapers."
+
+He did not notice the actions of the stenographer as he dictated:
+
+"I, John Boland, am a business man. I stand on my record. I defy Miss
+Mary Randall--"
+
+In pausing to formulate his thoughts, he became conscious that Miss
+Masters had not been taking his dictation; that she had laid an envelope
+on his desk directly in front of where he usually sat, and that she was
+putting on her hat.
+
+"Here, hold on!" he cried peremptorily. "What does this mean, Miss
+Masters?"
+
+"It means, Mr. Boland," she replied quietly, as she adjusted a hat pin,
+"that I have resigned. Good day."
+
+When she started to leave Boland called out to her in amazement:
+
+"Here--wait--why do you resign?"
+
+"That letter on the desk will tell you," she said as she moved through
+the doorway. "Good day."
+
+John Boland picked up the letter and opened it. He was dazed as he read
+aloud:
+
+"I refuse to lend my aid to the owners of vice property. Mary Randall."
+
+Boland stared into space, while Harry exclaimed:
+
+"Then Miss Masters is Mary Randall!"
+
+"Murder, alive!" yelled Grogan. He slid down in his chair and attempted
+to conceal himself beneath the desk.
+
+John Boland's hands trembled as he clutched the letter.
+
+"Mary Randall," he said, still dazed. "By all that's holy! That girl Mary
+Randall!"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XVII
+
+                            THE CAFE SINISTER
+
+
+The Cafe Sinister stands like a gilded temple at the entrance to
+Chicago's tenderloin. The fact is significant. The management, the
+appearance, the policy, if you please, of the place are all in keeping
+with this one potent circumstance of location. The Cafe Sinister beckons
+to the passerby. It appeals to him subtly with its music, its cheap
+splendor, its false gayety. To the sophisticated its allurements are
+those of the scarlet woman, to the innocent its voice is the voice of
+Joy.
+
+Two pillars of carved glass, lighted from the inside by electricity,
+stand at the portal. Within a huge room, filled with drinking tables
+sparkling with many lights, gleaming and garish, suggests without
+revealing the enticements of evil.
+
+This is the set trap. Above is that indispensable appurtenance to the
+pander's trade--the private dining room. Above that is what, in the
+infinite courtesy of the police, is called a hotel. And behind and beyond
+lies the Levee itself--naked and unashamed, blatantly vicious, consuming
+itself in the caustic of its own vices.
+
+To the trained observer of cities the words: "All hope abandon, ye who
+enter here," are written as plainly over the door of the Cafe Sinister as
+if it were that other portal through which Dante passed with Beatrice.
+But the unlearned in vice cannot read the writing. By thousands every
+year they enter joyously and by thousands they are cast out into the
+Levee, wrecked in morals, ruined in health, racked by their own
+consciences.
+
+The Cafe Sinister is not an institution peculiar to Chicago. Every great
+city in America possesses one. It is the place through which recruits are
+won to the underworld. It is the entrance to the labyrinth where lost
+souls wander. Viewed from its portal it is the Palace of Pleasure; seen
+from behind, through those haggard eyes from which vice has torn away the
+illusions of innocence, it is the Saddest Place in the World.
+
+Druce owned the Cafe Sinister with Carter Anson; their lease was written
+for them by John Boland. Thus the upper world and the under were leagued
+for its maintenance. And though the press might shriek and the pulpit
+thunder the combination and the Cafe Sinister went on forever.
+
+These three men had been drawn together by a common characteristic. Their
+consciences were dead. That atrophy of conscience made them all
+worshipers of the same idol--money. The motives that propelled each of
+the three to the altar were as diverse as their separate natures, but the
+sacrifice that each offered to the Moloch was the same--their souls.
+
+Having forfeited by their deeds the thing that made them men, the three
+shrunk to the moral stature of animals. Boland was the tiger, brooding
+over the city with yellow eyes, seeking whom he might devour. Druce was
+the wolf; cunning, ruthless, prowling. Anson was the mastiff; savage,
+brutal, given to wild bursts of rending passion. Love of power lashed
+Boland to his crimes; lechery prompted Druce in his prowlings; and whisky
+was the fire that smouldered under Anson's brutalities.
+
+On an afternoon in June Druce and Anson sat together in conference in one
+of the little booths of the Cafe Sinister's main dining room. The cafe,
+after its orgy of the night before, was quiet. Waiters, cat-footed and
+villain faced, gathered up the debris of the night's revel, slinking
+about their work like men ashamed of it. The sunlight peered dimly
+through the curtained windows; the air was heavy with the lees of liquor
+and the dead smoke of tobacco.
+
+The two men sat facing each other. A glass of whisky was cupped in
+Anson's closed hand. His clothes, unbrushed and unpressed, flapped about
+his huge figure. His throat bagged with flabby dewlaps. His head was
+bullet-shaped, his eyes fierce, his mouth loose-lipped and brutal. He
+made a strange contrast to his companion. Druce was lithe, well made and
+gifted with a sort of Satanic handsomeness. He was immaculately dressed.
+
+"It's fixed, I tell you," Druce was saying.
+
+"Fixed, be damned," rumbled Anson. "I know Boland. Nothing's fixed with
+him until the lease is drawn and delivered."
+
+"I say the thing's fixed," insisted Druce. "All we've got to do now is
+carry out our part of the agreement and I've completed all of the
+arrangements. We've got a week."
+
+"I know," said Anson, unconvinced. "It's fixed and you've completed the
+arrangements. I'm from Missouri."
+
+"Boland wants this girl, Patience Welcome, brought in here next Saturday
+night," said Druce. "He has arranged that his pious pup of a son, Harry,
+shall be here the same evening. We are to manage it so that he will get
+the impression that the girl has been amusing herself with him, that she
+has been kidding him along and playing this tenderloin game on the side.
+He's not to be allowed to talk to her. He'll see her--that will be
+enough. She's to come here to help her mother earn a little cash. I sent
+a fellow to hire the old woman to start here on Saturday night as a scrub
+woman. She's agreed to keep that part of it quiet. Then I'll drag the
+other one in--mine, do you understand. We'll make young Boland think the
+whole damned Welcome family belongs to us. We can see to it that the
+Patience girl gets some glad rags and some dope when she gets here. She's
+seen me in Millville, so it's up to you, Anson, to sign her up at good
+pay as a singer--" He stopped significantly.
+
+"Too complicated," was Anson's rejoinder. "Sounds good on paper, but it
+won't work, I tell you, it won't work. I don't like the way things have
+been going lately." He drained the whisky glass. "This vice commission
+and this crazy yap of a Mary Randall--"
+
+"O, hell!" interrupted Druce in disgust. "You've got it, too, have you?
+Mary Randall! My God, you talk like an old woman!"
+
+"I tell you--" Anson began.
+
+"You can't tell me nothing. I'm sick and tired of framing stuff and then
+have you throw it down because you've lost your nerve and are afraid of a
+girl. I'm done, I tell you. If you think you can improve on my plans, go
+ahead. I'm through. I won't--"
+
+Anson capitulated immediately. "Now don't get sore, Mart," he whined, "I
+know I'm no good on this frameup stuff. Maybe I am a little nervous. Go
+ahead with your plan--I guess it's the best one. Don't let's fight about
+it."
+
+"All right," rejoined Druce. "Now that's settled. I'll handle this thing.
+All you've got to do is keep your trap shut and stand pat."
+
+The conversation was interrupted by the angry and maudlin exclamations of
+a girl. She had been sitting at a distant table half asleep. A porter had
+wakened her.
+
+"I won't go home and sleep," she shrieked. "Keep your hands off me, you
+dirty nigger."
+
+"Now what's the trouble?" demanded Druce of Anson.
+
+"Swede Rose has been drunk all night."
+
+"We've got to get rid of her. She's always pulling this rough stuff."
+
+"Not now," warned Anson. "It's too hard to get new girls. When she's
+sober she's a wise money getter."
+
+"Damn her," muttered Druce, "I don't like her anyway. She had the nerve
+to slap my face the other night because I wouldn't give her money for
+hop. As soon as this lease is signed I'm going down state. I'll bring
+back some new stock and then it's 'On your way' for that wildcat."
+
+"Let me handle her," advised Anson. He got up and walked over to the
+table where the girl was having the altercation with the negro. She was
+still young, but drink and drugs had left ineffaceable lines upon her
+face. She was beautiful, even this morning after her night's debauch, for
+she possessed a regularity of feature and a fine contour of figure that
+not even death itself could wreck. Her disheveled hair showed here and
+there traces of gray. Her skin was a dead white, save where two pink
+spots blazed in either cheek.
+
+"Here he comes," called the girl, catching sight of Anson. "Good old
+Carter. Ans," she went on, "chase this coon out of here; he won't let me
+sleep." Anson motioned the porter to keep his distance. "An' say, Ans,"
+the girl went on, "gimme a quarter. I'm broke and I got to have some hop
+or die."
+
+Anson handed the negro a quarter without a word. The porter hurried out
+of the cafe.
+
+"He wanted to chase me out," the girl whimpered.
+
+"Well, Rose," Anson went on pacifically, "you've got to cut out this all
+night booze thing. You're hurting the house."
+
+The girl looked up at the dive keeper with dull eyes.
+
+"Hurting the house, eh?" she echoed. "What about me? Think I ain't
+hurting myself? Say, it's got so I'd rather be drunk than sober. I can't
+stand to be sober. I always start thinking. Some of these days you'll
+hear of me walking out of this place and making a dent in the lake--"
+
+The negro returned with the drug. The girl seized it with trembling
+hands. While the two men stood and looked she drew a small lancet from
+the bosom of her dress, inserted its point under the skin of her white
+forearm and drove a few drops of the drug into the vein. The effect was
+instantaneous. She laughed loudly.
+
+"Now, you get to bed," ordered Anson.
+
+"Bed, hell," retorted the girl.
+
+"I said get to bed." Anson glowered at her.
+
+"There'll be a big night tonight, and--"
+
+"You can't give me no orders."
+
+Anson had held in his temper as long as he was able. His fierce eyes
+twinkled and his brutal mouth twitched. Without a word he reached across
+the table, clutched the girl by the throat and dragged her out of her
+seat. He hurled her, half strangled, on the floor.
+
+"Here," he bellowed to some of his servitors, "take this damn hell-cat
+out of here. Take her up to the hotel. If she won't go to bed, throw her
+into the street."
+
+"You--you--" gasped the girl, struggling to her feet.
+
+"Don't talk back to me," roared Anson, "or I'll kill you. I'll show you
+what you are and who's running this place." Then to the waiters: "Get her
+out of here."
+
+The girl was dragged out of the room, screaming and fighting. A wisp of
+curses came back into the big room as she was lugged up the stairs
+towards the hotel.
+
+Anson stood panting with anger. A mail carrier entered and placed a
+letter in his hand. He opened and read:
+
+"Mr. Carter Anson: Take your choice. Close the Cafe Sinister, or I'll see
+that it is closed. Mary Randall."
+
+The big man flushed crimson with rage. He tried to speak, but the words
+choked in his throat. He crumpled the letter and hurled it with a curse
+across the room.
+
+"Druce," he bellowed.
+
+Druce hurried across the room.
+
+"Did you see that?"
+
+"Yes, I saw you beat her up. Why don't you let 'em alone? You'll kill one
+of them some of these days."
+
+"Naw, not her. I mean the letter. Mary Randall--she says she's going to
+close us." A waiter recovered the letter and brought it to Druce. He read
+it.
+
+"Say, listen, are you turning yellow--"
+
+"No, I ain't yellow," returned Anson, "but this thing is getting my goat.
+You're sure about that lease?"
+
+"Sure?--say, I thought we'd settled that--"
+
+"Well," pursued Anson, "I don't like this. What have you done with this
+other girl--the one you married? She'll be getting us into a row next."
+
+"I married her, didn't I?"
+
+"Yes, but--"
+
+"Well, it's about time she started earning her bread. This Randall woman
+hasn't got me scared. You know why I married her. Well, I'm going through
+with it. I--"
+
+The rest of his sentence died on his lips. A girl scarcely more than a
+child came in from the hotel entrance. She was dressed in a lacey gown, a
+size too large for her. The slit skirt displayed her slim ankles in pink
+silk stockings. The French heeled shoes were decorated with rhinestone
+buckles. In spite of this outrageous dress she was still pretty. It was
+Elsie Welcome.
+
+"Hello, kid," said Druce, his manner changing.
+
+"I want to see you, Martin," Elsie replied. Druce noticed that she seemed
+deeply agitated. There were signs of recently shed tears on her cheeks.
+
+"I'll run along," said Anson, seeing the girl's agitation. When he was
+gone Druce drew the girl into a booth and demanded sharply:
+
+"What the devil do you want and how did you get here?"
+
+"I came in a taxicab," the girl answered.
+
+"A taxi, eh? Well, you're learning. Who paid for it?"
+
+"It isn't paid for, Martin. I wanted to see you and--"
+
+"And what?"
+
+"The man's waiting outside."
+
+Druce flushed angrily. "Look here," he demanded. "Don't play me for a
+boob. Get someone else to pay your taxi bills."
+
+"But, Martin, I thought--"
+
+Druce did not wait for the rest of the sentence. With a muttered oath he
+rushed outside and paid the waiting chauffeur.
+
+"Now, what do you want?" he demanded when he returned.
+
+Elsie looked at him piteously. "Martin," she said, "I can't stay in that
+place any longer."
+
+"Say, don't my aunt treat you all right?"
+
+The girl burst out sobbing. "She isn't your aunt, Martin. She told me so
+herself. And that flat--"
+
+"Well, what about it?"
+
+"I--I can't tell you. I can't say it. I never knew until tonight." Elsie
+clutched Druce's arm pleadingly. "Martin," she said, "a man came into my
+room."
+
+Druce saw that the time had come for him to lay his cards on the table.
+He folded his arms and looked at the girl.
+
+"Well?" he demanded coolly.
+
+"He had been drinking and--he took hold of me."
+
+There was a long pause. Druce gazed at the girl satirically. She quailed
+with sinking heart under that look. She began sobbing again.
+
+"Don't look at me like that, Martin," she wailed. "Don't--or I shall go
+mad. I left home to marry you."
+
+"Well, I married you, didn't I?" Druce sneered.
+
+Elsie attempted to control her voice.
+
+"That woman you call your aunt laughed at me when I told her I was your
+wife. She said I was a country fool."
+
+"Damn her," muttered Druce. "I'll settle with her."
+
+The girl grasped Druce frantically.
+
+"Tell me she lied," she cried, "or I'll go crazy. Tell me she lied."
+
+"Yes, she lied," answered Druce glibly. "See here, kid, it's about time
+you began helping to support the family."
+
+Elsie dried her tears. "I'm--I'm ready," she said. "I've practiced my
+songs--"
+
+"O, the songs," said Druce. "That isn't all."
+
+"What do you mean, Martin?"
+
+"Why--don't be so stand-offish. When a man offers to buy you a bottle of
+wine, let him."
+
+"Martin!"
+
+Druce stopped her sharply. "Now don't begin that Millville Sunday school
+stuff," he said. "This is business."
+
+"Is it?" Elsie spoke in a whisper.
+
+"Sure. When a man's got a wad of bills and he's willing to buy, string
+him along!"
+
+"But I'm your wife, Martin." Elsie was dead white and calm.
+
+"Well, don't let that worry you. Go as far as you like--or as far as he
+likes."
+
+The girl stood motionless, looking straight before her.
+
+"Is--is that what you brought me here for?" she asked with forced
+calmness.
+
+"Sure. Why do you suppose I dressed you up like that? Your stock in trade
+is your good looks. Sell it."
+
+The girl drew herself up rigidly.
+
+"I won't do it," she said. She started toward the door.
+
+"You will!" grated Druce, following her.
+
+"Never," she answered. "I'll die first. Good-by!" The door closed after
+her.
+
+Anson had returned to the room and had witnessed the scene.
+
+"Well," he sneered, "there goes the first move in your plan. You've lost
+that one."
+
+"You think so?" Druce sneered in return. "Well, don't lose any sleep
+worrying about that one. She ain't got a dime. She'll be back."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XVIII
+
+                            LOST IN THE LEVEE
+
+
+So stupefied was Elsie Welcome by her emotions as she fled from the Cafe
+Sinister that it was not until her clothes were drenched that she
+realized it had begun to rain. Even then she did not halt and seek
+shelter. Her numbed brain knew only one thing--that she must get away
+from Druce and the place of sin to which he had brought her.
+
+Up to the time of her last interview with her husband she had been living
+in a dream; now that dream had turned into a nightmare. But the
+nightmare, she at last realized, was reality. The veil of deception Druce
+had woven around her had been torn away by his own brutal words. She had
+come to feel a vague terror of the man. As for the Cafe Sinister, her
+whole nature revolted against it.
+
+It was an hour before sunset. The sullen houses about her were beginning
+to show signs of life. Here and there a door opened and a man or woman
+stepped quickly out with rapid glances up and down the street. There was
+no loitering. They went their way quickly, always with a half furtive
+look over the shoulder.
+
+As the girl reached a corner she found at last that she was too exhausted
+to go farther. Her clothes dripped. She sought an entrance way for
+shelter. A tall girl in a broad hat with showy plumes was just coming out
+of the door. She looked at Elsie's tear stained face and stopped.
+
+"What's the matter, girlie?" There was sympathy in her voice.
+
+"Nothing. Can you tell me where this number is?" She produced a card on
+which Druce's "aunt" at their last interview had written the address of a
+woman from whom she could get work.
+
+The tall girl glanced at the slip of paper.
+
+"It's just over there, two doors from that corner," she said. Elsie
+turned to cross the street. The tall girl stood still regarding her
+thoughtfully. Suddenly she seemed to reach a decision. She darted forward
+and stopped Elsie.
+
+"It's none of my business, kid," she said, "but what do you want of
+Mother Lankee?"
+
+Elsie looked at her in surprise. "Why," she said pitifully, "I expect to
+get work there."
+
+"Do you know the kind of work Mother Lankee would ask you to do?"
+
+"I don't know, but I'm willing to do anything."
+
+"Anything?" repeated the tall girl.
+
+"Why, yes. I've got to the point where I can't afford to be particular."
+
+The tall girl laid her hand on Elsie's arm.
+
+"What is your name?"
+
+"Elsie Welcome."
+
+"Where do you live?"
+
+"On South Tenth street."
+
+"You come from down state?"
+
+"How did you know?"
+
+"It's written all over you. What man brought you here?"
+
+The question surprised Elsie and brought back memory of her sorrows. She
+did not answer. Her eyes filled with tears.
+
+"Come, kid," said the tall girl, cheerfully, "get hold of yourself. Now,
+listen! You stay away from Mother Lankee. You're hungry, ain't you,
+dearie? You come with me and we'll get something to eat."
+
+Elsie was too tired to resist and, instinctively, she trusted this tall
+girl with her assumption of guardianship. Together they crossed the
+street and entered the rear room of a saloon. Three men sat near the
+entrance playing cards. They looked at the two girls, inspecting Elsie
+narrowly and nodding carelessly at her companion. The girl took seats at
+a distant table.
+
+"What do you want, Lou?" inquired one of the men, getting up from the
+table.
+
+"Not you," retorted Lou curtly. "Send one of your waiters here with a
+plain lemonade, a glass of milk and some of that beef stew."
+
+"Milk, eh?" said the man, "and lemonade. On the wagon again, Lou?"
+
+"Run along now," returned the girl. "If you keep on asking questions
+someone is going to tell you lies."
+
+The man went into another room, spoke to someone there and rejoined the
+card players. In a few moments a negro waiter appeared with the viands
+Lou had ordered.
+
+Elsie began to eat famishedly. The other girl watched her approvingly.
+
+"Go to it, girlie," she advised. "I know how you feel. I've been hungry
+myself."
+
+She sipped her lemonade until Elsie had finished. Then, as though it had
+not been interrupted, she resumed the conversation they had begun in the
+street.
+
+"The same old game," she said cynically. "You came to Chicago because you
+loved him. He strung you along--" Her glance fell on Elsie's wedding
+ring. "You fell for that 'I do take thee' thing. Then he shook you. Is
+that right, girlie?"
+
+Elsie shook her head. A stupor due to the food and the reaction from her
+nervous and physical exhaustion came over her. She felt too languid to
+grapple with the problem of existence.
+
+The tall girl arched her eyebrows in surprise.
+
+"He didn't shake you? Then why--"
+
+"I couldn't do what he wanted me to do," murmured Elsie. She felt her
+face flushing and she dropped her head. "He wanted me to--to--"
+
+The other interrupted her sharply. "You needn't say it--I know." She
+gripped the table in sudden anger. "One of these dogs--eh?"
+
+Elsie stared at her blankly. The old sense of forlornness, of being alone
+and uncared for, returned to her.
+
+"I don't know what you mean," she faltered.
+
+"What was his name?"
+
+"Druce," gasped Elsie.
+
+"Druce, eh?" replied the tall girl, as though the name had opened a whole
+vista of understanding. "Druce? Well, look out for him, girlie. He'll
+hound you from one end of the town to the other until he gets you. That's
+his business."
+
+"He always said he was a dealer in live stock."
+
+The tall girl laughed scornfully. "Live stock!" she jeered. "Did he get
+away with that? Well, that's what he is--a dealer in human live stock, a
+trafficker in women, one of the oldest professions in the world--and the
+dirtiest. Live stock! That's what he calls girls like you and
+me--cattle!"
+
+For a long moment Elsie sat staring at her companion. The last prop of
+her faith in the man who had married her was crumbling. She could not
+give up this last illusion of Druce's faithfulness without a struggle.
+The blood flamed to her cheeks and she started to her feet.
+
+"I don't believe it," she cried in anguish.
+
+To her surprise, Lou made no reply. She merely regarded her pityingly.
+This was the last blow. Elsie burst into a flood of tears.
+
+"I know you don't believe it," said Lou gently. "It's hard for anyone who
+is decent to believe that men can fall so low. Why, nobody believes it!
+The men who run the city government don't believe it, the law makers
+don't believe it, the vice commission, doesn't believe it. The only
+people who believe it are the people who, at their own bitter cost, know
+it--and this girl Mary Randall."
+
+She paused.
+
+"Look at me, kid," she went on. "I was sold for $175. Sold, do you get
+that? SOLD! And I came high. They buy and sell 'em in this district every
+day for fifty. Yes, I was prime stock. They brought me up here from
+Kentucky. Kentucky Lou, price $175--a choice article." She broke off,
+laughing bitterly, and summoned a waiter.
+
+"Whisky," she said, "and be quick with it."
+
+She waited until the waiter returned without speaking. Then she tossed
+off the glass of fiery liquid like a man.
+
+"Now," she said, resuming the conversation abruptly, "let me tell you
+what you are up against. You can't go home, your pride won't let you. And
+if you wanted to go home you haven't the money. Druce has turned you
+loose in this district to starve and when you've starved enough you'll
+come back to him."
+
+Elsie shook her head.
+
+"Yes, you will, girlie. You don't know it now, but I know it and Druce
+knows it. And when you come back you'll do as Druce wants you to do,
+because you'll know that if you don't you'll have to starve again. It's
+against human nature to starve. You'll go back to him. And when you do
+and Druce is tired of you he'll sell you for what you are, cattle--his
+kind of cattle!"
+
+"Oh no!" wailed Elsie. "Not that. Surely in this great city there are
+places where a friendless girl can find protection!"
+
+Kentucky Lou laughed again but the laugh contained no mirth.
+
+"I thought that too, kid," she said more gently. "And perhaps--perhaps--if
+you could find the right people and they believed you they might help you.
+But they didn't help me. I went to one of these institutions that
+advertise to help friendless girls. Yes, I went to them. I had my baby in
+my arms. And they began by shooting me full of questions that I'd rather
+die than answer. And me perishing for a kind word and a slap on the
+back--just something to keep me fighting to be good. They gave me tracts,
+and sermons and advice. And then my baby died and I didn't care what
+happened. I guess I went crazy after that. 'It's hell, anyway,' I says,
+'so here goes.' And here I am."
+
+While she spoke Kentucky Lou was fumbling with her dress. Her hand
+reappeared in a moment with a five dollar bill. She shoved the bill into
+Elsie's hand.
+
+"Take that," she said, "and go. Go as far as you can. It's all I can do
+for you and it may save you. I think you'll come back to Druce but I'm
+taking a gambler's chance."
+
+She took Elsie by the arm, half lifted the stupefied girl to her feet and
+led her to the door. Impelled by a terror which both blinded and choked
+her Elsie fled into the gathering darkness without even pausing to thank
+her benefactor.
+
+Lou returned to the saloon and ordered more whisky.
+
+"Lou," inquired one of the men, "who's you're friend?"
+
+Lou regarded the questioner calmly.
+
+"That?" she replied, "Oh, that's a little lost lamb turned loose in a den
+of you human hyenas."
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XIX
+
+                MARY RANDALL GOES TO LIVE IN A WOLF'S DEN
+
+
+Martin Druce, still pacing uneasily; about the big drinking room of the
+Cafe Sinister after his angry parting with Elsie Welcome, looked up
+suddenly and saw the street door open. He stood still staring. The new
+arrival was Mary Randall. She wore a smart tailored suit and a modish
+hat. Druce noted these details of costume, the shining bronze hair, the
+fresh complexion and the trim figure. He gasped with surprise.
+
+Druce's surprise was not due to any recognition of his visitor as the
+reformer. To him Mary Randall was still Miss Masters, for he had heard
+nothing of the episode in John Boland's office when the electric king's
+private secretary revealed her true identity. His astonishment was
+predicated upon the fact that this stenographer, after having thwarted
+and flouted him, after having seemed to read the darkest secrets of his
+plotting mind, should now walk in upon him with all the easy composure of
+an old friend.
+
+Then he had read the girl wrong after all! She was, as he had at first
+suspected, of the demi-monde. Thus her sophistication, the ease with
+which she had penetrated his pretensions, the cool finality with which
+she had catalogued and placed him, were all explainable. Her worldly
+wisdom, which he had found so baffling, was that of the skilled and
+experienced adventuress!
+
+These reflections swept through his mind in a moment. Another thought
+came to him that filled him with rage. She was here now to resume her
+play with him. But rage gave way to desire. His mind instantly busied
+itself with new intrigues. Here was a woman much to be desired. She had
+come hunting amusement at his expense. She delivered herself into his
+hands; she laughed at his power. And she seemed confident of beating him.
+This was a game that filled him with delight. He sprang forward eagerly
+to greet her, bowing gallantly, and doffing his hat.
+
+"How do you do, Mr. Druce?" inquired Miss Masters. "You seem surprised to
+see me here."
+
+Druce caught something mocking in her tone. "I'm more than surprised," he
+returned. "I'm tickled pink. Won't you have a seat?" He prepared a place
+for her at one of the booths. "And can't I order you something to drink?"
+
+Miss Masters favored Druce with one of her enigmatical smiles. "It's a
+little early for wine," she said, "and too late for highballs. Besides,
+business before pleasure. I want to talk to you."
+
+Druce sat down, expectantly.
+
+"I've come here, Mr. Druce," Miss Masters went on, "not merely to make a
+social call, as you seem to take for granted, but as John Boland's agent.
+He has instructed me to take up the matter of your new lease with you. I
+am to handle the whole transaction in his name. The only stipulation that
+he makes is that you are not to communicate with him again. He wants you
+to stay away from his office, because he has learned within the last few
+hours that the office is being watched by agents of this girl reformer,
+Mary Randall. He has instructed me to tell you not to attempt to see him
+or to telephone him until your negotiations with me are concluded."
+
+Druce was disappointed.
+
+"Why," he said, "I thought the matter of the lease was settled. Boland
+told me plainly when I last talked with him that if I would arrange to
+have Patience Welcome here on Saturday night so that Harry Boland could
+see her he would give me a new lease with no increase in rental."
+
+"I understand," replied Miss Masters to whom this was news. "The idea of
+arranging this meeting is, I am informed, to convince Harry that the girl
+has been playing with him--that she is one of your employes."
+
+"That's it," replied Druce. "I've made all the plans and the girl will be
+here on Saturday night. I've arranged to have her mother here, too. And
+to make it good I expect to bring in the other sister--the girl Elsie--at
+the last moment. Young Boland will believe that the whole Welcome family
+is working for me."
+
+"I see," said Miss Masters. "It's a pretty smooth scheme, but Mr. Boland
+thinks it's rather too daring. That's why he's sent me here, to see that
+nothing goes wrong. You are to give me all the details of your plans and
+through me Mr. Boland is to be kept informed as to what is going on."
+
+"Well, he's a deep one," said Druce. "I don't like his introducing a
+third party into my plans very well, but I guess I've got to take it.
+I've got to have that lease."
+
+"Yes," replied Miss Masters, "that's the way John Boland has it figured
+out."
+
+"Say, girlie," Druce went on, assuming a confidential air, "Old Boland
+sure must have a lot of confidence in you."
+
+Again Miss Masters smiled enigmatically. "Yes," she admitted, "Mr. Boland
+has reason to know I can take care of myself in nearly every situation."
+
+"I'm beginning to think you're as deep as Boland is."
+
+"Yes?" Miss Masters tantalized him with another of her smiles. "Now," she
+went on, "tell me about this. You say you're going to have the other
+Welcome girl here. How do you expect to arrange that?"
+
+Druce grinned triumphantly. "That's dead easy," he said. "You see I'm
+married to her." He had expected to startle Miss Masters with this
+information, but he was disappointed. She merely arched her brows
+slightly. "Then you marry them, do you?" "Yes, when I have to. It's the
+easiest way." "Then this girl--Elsie--is living in your--a--a--hotel?"
+
+"No," replied Druce hesitatingly, "she's gone away." Then he added
+quickly, "but she'll be back."
+
+"Gone away? I don't understand." "Oh, we had a family row this morning. I
+told her that if she wanted to get along in Chicago she'd have to discard
+her Millville morals and be a good fellow. She's squeamish. I let her
+understand that she'd have to--"
+
+"I see," said Miss Masters. "She thought that, because she was your wife
+she wouldn't have to drink with the patrons in your cafe. When you told
+her she'd have to, she got angry and walked out. Is that it?"
+
+"You're wise," replied Druce admiringly.
+
+"You say she'll be back. How do you know that?"
+
+"I know it, because she hasn't got a dime. With her it's a case of coming
+back or starving to death in the Levee, and I know enough about her to be
+sure she'll be back. She can't get away from me."
+
+"And the other girl, Patience?"
+
+"She thinks this is a sort of a music hall. She's coming here with her
+mother Saturday night. Before she discovers that this place isn't exactly
+what she believes it is, Harry Boland will see her up there on the stand
+with the rest of my talent. I'll get the girl out of the place before he
+can talk to her. That will put the kibosh on their love affair."
+
+"What do you expect to do with these girls afterward?"
+
+"Oh, we have facilities here"--Druce's smile was evil--"for breaking 'em
+in. Afterward--well, I don't know. It may be dangerous to keep them
+around Chicago. I can get a good price for them." He laughed. "You know
+I'm a dealer in live stock."
+
+"Yes, yes, you expect to sell them. That's not a bad idea."
+
+"Now look here, kid," said Druce, "you've asked me a lot of questions and
+got fair answers. It's a poor game that can't be played both ways. I want
+to know something about you."
+
+Miss Masters curled herself up comfortably in a corner of the booth. She
+looked challengingly at Druce.
+
+"Shoot," she said.
+
+"Now, who are you?"
+
+"You know my name. It's Masters."
+
+"I don't mean that. What are you?"
+
+Miss Masters replied quickly, "I--why--I'm a girl, and--you say yourself
+I'm wise."
+
+"You don't have to tell me that. Where did you come from? Where did
+Boland get you?"
+
+"Before I went to work for Boland I was in St. Louis."
+
+"What did you do there?"
+
+"Oh, I shan't answer that question--yet."
+
+"Well, you seem to know a great deal about the kind of business I'm in.
+Where did you get your information?"
+
+"Picked it up."
+
+"In St. Louis?"
+
+"Yes, I learned some things there."
+
+"Have you ever been in this business?"
+
+"What business?"
+
+"Well, this cafe business--and the rest of it."
+
+"You say I know a good deal about it."
+
+"Yes, you know a lot about it. And you've got your information from the
+inside. And Boland knows you know a lot about it. Otherwise he wouldn't
+have sent you down here."
+
+"Yes?" Miss Masters was silent for a moment. "Druce," she went on, "did
+you ever hear of the Broughton Club?"
+
+"Sure, that swell joint in St. Louis?"
+
+"Yes. Well, I'm interested in it."
+
+"As owner?"
+
+"Never mind about that. I'm interested in it and one of my reasons for
+calling on you is to get some girls for the club."
+
+"You want to buy some girls?"
+
+"You said it."
+
+"From me?"
+
+"From you, if I can get the right figures. If I can't, I'll try
+elsewhere. You're not the only 'dealer in live stock' in the Levee."
+
+"I'll make the figures right."
+
+"I'm interested in this place."
+
+"In the Cafe Sinister?"
+
+"Yes, I want to know something about your methods. We don't know it all
+in St. Louis. I think I can pick up a little information here. I'm going
+back to St. Louis in a month. I want to take some girls back with me, and
+I'd like to find out just how a first class joint like the Cafe Sinister
+is operated in Chicago."
+
+"Is this a proposition?"
+
+"Yes, it's a proposition."
+
+"All right. Go on."
+
+"I want to live at the Cafe Sinister during the week our deal for the
+lease is on. I'll take rooms in your--a--hotel, upstairs.
+
+"And I'll be around the cafe, and making myself at home generally," added
+Miss Masters, reassuringly.
+
+"Go as far as you like," answered Druce, "and if you need a body guard,"
+he added, with a knowing wink, "why, you know me."
+
+Miss Masters' eyes narrowed. "I told you I could look out for myself,"
+she answered.
+
+"You'll have to look out for yourself," retorted Druce significantly.
+
+"Let me do the worrying about that."
+
+Druce was silent. He had determined to accept Miss Masters' offer. He
+felt that she was walking into his trap and yet, so great had grown his
+respect for her that he did not know his next move.
+
+"I'll have a suite prepared for you," he said.
+
+"That's settled, then."
+
+Miss Masters got up from her seat. As she did so Druce attempted a
+caress. "I'm going to collect part of the rent in advance," he said.
+
+"Are you?" Miss Masters pushed him away sharply. He did not repeat his
+indiscretion. Instead he stood back respectfully to let her pass. In the
+palm of her hand with the muzzle pointing firmly in his direction he saw
+a small, steel-blue magazine pistol. The girl's finger was on the
+trigger.
+
+"If you'll have one of your servants show me the suite," said Miss
+Masters, "I'll telephone for my maid."
+
+Then she added, seemingly as an afterthought,
+
+"I never pay the rent, Mr. Druce, until the end of the week."
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XX
+
+                   DRUCE SIGNS A SIGNIFICANT DOCUMENT
+
+
+Mary Randall realized that she was playing a dangerous game. She had
+placed herself in Druce's power because taking that risk had seemed to
+her the best way to gather evidence against the Cafe Sinister. She had
+not acted without laying her plans carefully. Her whole campaign for the
+week that she was to be in Druce's dive had been mapped out before she
+set foot so unexpectedly inside his door.
+
+The girl depended upon two things for protection. First was Druce's fear
+of the power of John Boland. She believed that the man would not dare to
+use physical violence against her if he thought she was what she had
+represented herself to be--John Boland's agent. Second was his desire for
+a renewal of the lease to the cafe. Mary was confident that Druce would
+plot against her but she was equally sure he would not move until after
+the lease had been signed. If both these protections failed, she still
+had her magazine pistol. And she knew how to use it.
+
+In coming into Druce's place she had deliberately counted on the
+ascendancy which she knew her beauty and her air of mystery had obtained
+over him. She was playing the pander at his own game. It was an extremely
+dangerous game but she believed she could beat him. And the results would
+be worth the risk.
+
+Meanwhile her greatest anxiety was to prevent Druce from communicating in
+any way with John Boland. If Druce should learn through Boland that he
+had not delegated her to negotiate the lease, that she was in fact Mary
+Randall, then she would be face to face with a fight for her life. But
+she was quite sure that Druce would not communicate with Boland. She knew
+the workings of Boland's office well enough to understand how difficult
+it was for Druce to get a word with the master of the Electric Trust and
+as a special precaution she had put an inhibition upon him not to call at
+or telephone to the office. Finally, before she had quite finished with
+Boland, she had arranged with his telephone operator that no calls from
+Druce should be put on John Boland's wire.
+
+Mary's first move after she had been shown to her suite was to telephone
+to Anna, her maid, whom she had left nearby before making her visit to
+the cafe. Anna arrived in a short time with a porter carrying a couple of
+heavy suit cases.
+
+When the two girls were at last alone in their rooms they began preparing
+for their week's stay by making a thorough examination of the locks on
+the doors. They found them secure. Then, closing the keyholes, they
+proceeded to unpack the suit cases. Out of them they took, besides
+various articles of apparel, a complete dictagraph apparatus. The
+transmitter was hidden under a mat on a table in the reception room that
+formed part of the suite. The wires were carried down the leg of the
+table and under the carpets to a small closet; there Anna installed a
+small table, a pocket electric light and her stenographer's notebook. A
+small camera was hidden in one of the window curtains. It was focused so
+as to take in the space surrounding the table in the reception room. When
+one of the curtains was raised the plate was automatically exposed and
+the raising of the curtain at the same time let enough light into the
+room to take an excellent picture.
+
+With these arrangements completed, Mary began a tour of the cafe
+building. She found Druce eager to serve her. By him she was guided to
+every part of the place, meeting the people she wanted to know and
+learning all of the details of the infamous business in which Druce,
+Anson and Boland were jointly embarked. For three days she went about
+these tours of inspection undisturbed. In the evenings she had the women
+habitues of the place in her rooms, talking to them as if she were one of
+their own kind and learning from them the squalid stories of their
+downfall and the part Druce and Anson had played in it. Anna was not in
+sight during any of these interviews. She was seated at the little table
+with the dictagraph at her ear, her fountain pen in her hand and her
+stenographer's notebook before her. Nothing that was said escaped her.
+
+Meanwhile Druce was having an unpleasant time with Anson. He had tried at
+first to keep from him the fact of Miss Masters' residence in their
+"hotel." "The mastiff," however, was not long deceived. When he
+confronted Druce with what he had learned, Druce with an assumption of
+frankness told him of his interview with Miss Masters and attempted to
+reassure him.
+
+Anson, however, was by nature suspicious. "I don't like it," he snarled.
+"You've let a spy into the house."
+
+Druce tried at first to argue with him. Then he grew angry. Finally he
+turned on his partner.
+
+"You mind your own business," he advised him, white with rage. "I'll
+manage this thing. The girl's mine. I'm going to have her. Keep away from
+her. By God, if you interfere with my schemes I'll kill you."
+
+Anson was not terrified by this threat. He knew that in any physical
+encounter he was more than a match for the slender Druce. But he feared
+to quarrel with his partner. He was too appreciative of Druce's value to
+him and their enterprise to want to lose him. He growled a smothered
+string of curses, but Druce had his way.
+
+Druce had become so much infatuated with Miss Masters that he had thrown
+caution to the winds. Never before in his life had he been under the
+influence of any woman. Now that such an influence had seized him he was
+overwhelmed by it. He had arrived perilously close to the point where, if
+he had known the true character of the woman he was sheltering, his
+infatuation would have led him to risk the danger merely to have her near
+him. His thoughts were on her constantly, his mind busy during every
+waking hour on schemes for, entrapping her.
+
+Mary had taken up her abode in the Cafe Sinister on Monday. On Thursday
+she sent for Druce. He came to her suite eagerly.
+
+He found Miss Masters sitting at the table in the reception room. He sat
+down opposite her and facing the window at her invitation.
+
+"Druce," said the girl, "I've sent for you because I want to close that
+deal for the girls I spoke to you about."
+
+"The girls you're going to take back to St. Louis?"
+
+"Yes, I'll want five or six."
+
+"You've been looking over my stock?" said Druce with a leer.
+
+"Yes," replied Miss Masters, concealing her repulsion.
+
+"Well, I guess we can come to terms. Who do you want?"
+
+"I only care for four of the girls I have seen," replied Miss Masters. "I
+want that little girl, Maida, the blonde girl you call Luella, Clara, and
+that young brunette, Esther."
+
+"Gee," said Druce, "you don't want much, do you? Why those are the
+youngest and prettiest girls we've got in the place. That Luella has only
+been in the district three weeks. All the rest of them are new ones."
+
+"I know it. That's why I want them."
+
+"They'll cost you money."
+
+"I expect to pay money for them."
+
+"I want $200 apiece for those four girls." The price was high. Druce
+thought Miss Masters would reject it.
+
+"Very well," returned Miss Masters. "That will be $800."
+
+"You're willing to pay it?"
+
+"Yes. I'm going to spend $1,000 with you."
+
+"Four ain't enough?"
+
+"No, I'm going to take two more, if I can get them. You say you expect to
+have these Welcome sisters?"
+
+"Sure, I'll have them."
+
+"Well, you told me you didn't want to run the risk of keeping them around
+Chicago. I'll take them off your hands."
+
+"You expect to get them for $200?"
+
+"Certainly. You don't know yet that you can deliver. Has the one you
+married come back?"
+
+"Oh, I'll deliver."
+
+"I'm not as sure of that as you are, but I'm willing to speculate on it.
+I'll make you this proposition. I'll write you a check for $1,000 and
+take my chance on you delivering the six girls I name."
+
+"No checks go," said Druce.
+
+"You'll have to take a check if you do business with me."
+
+Druce considered. He wanted the $1,000. He did not want to quarrel with
+Miss Masters. He capitulated.
+
+"Write the check," he said.
+
+Miss Masters took a check-book from a drawer and drew a check, payable to
+Druce. She handed it to him. He looked at the paper doubtfully.
+
+"I'll have to indorse that," he said.
+
+Miss Masters laughed.
+
+"Certainly," she said, "you'll have to indorse it unless you want to keep
+it as a souvenir." She smiled at him. "Druce," she said, "you'll never
+get along in this business if you're a coward."
+
+"It's direct evidence against me."
+
+"You don't trust me?"
+
+"All right, girlie. I'll trust you." He folded the check and put it in
+his pocket.
+
+"Now, we'll have to have a bit of writing."
+
+"No writing for mine," retorted Druce. "This check is plenty."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Druce," Miss Masters spoke appealingly. "You don't think that's
+fair, do you? You've got my check."
+
+"I guess it's you that's not trusting me now," said Druce.
+
+"But you admit yourself that you may not deliver."
+
+"No I don't. I will deliver."
+
+"But this isn't business."
+
+"It's the way we do this kind of business in Chi."
+
+Miss Masters got up from the table, as if exasperated.
+
+"Look here, Mr. Druce," she said. "How can signing an agreement covering
+this sale hurt you? Oh, what a lot of cowards you 'live stock dealers'
+are! Can't you see that if you sign this agreement with me I'm
+incriminated as well as you are? The Mann act gets the buyer as well as
+the seller."
+
+"Well, what's the agreement?"
+
+"It says simply this: 'In consideration of $1,000 I agree to deliver two
+days from date the following girls'--I'll write in their names--'to Miss
+Masters.'"
+
+"You're not trying to put anything over?"
+
+"Did it ever strike you that by selling these girls to me you'd have John
+Boland where you wanted him?"
+
+"Boland?"
+
+"I'm his agent."
+
+"All right." Druce snatched up the paper and read it. "Write in the
+names." Miss Masters wrote the names of six girls into the document. She
+handed it back to Druce and picked up a pen.
+
+"Just a moment," she said, giving him the pen. "It's dark here. I'll
+raise the curtain."
+
+She stepped quickly across the room and adjusted the curtain so that the
+sunlight fell full across Druce as he signed his name to the agreement.
+As he finished the last stroke he heard a faint "click."
+
+"What was that?" he demanded anxiously.
+
+"The curtain caught on the window latch," replied Miss Masters. She
+picked up the agreement and blotted the signature. "Thank you," she said,
+"now I've got something for my $1,000."
+
+Druce laughed uneasily. The maid, Anna, entered from an adjoining
+apartment. Druce realized uncomfortably that the interview was over.
+
+"Well," he said, going to the door and smiling sentimentally at Miss
+Masters, "so long. See you later."
+
+"Yes," replied Miss Masters in a tone he didn't just like, "I'll see you
+later."
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XXI
+
+                       DRUCE PROVES A TRUE PROPHET
+
+
+Saturday night begins at the Cafe Sinister at nine o'clock. At that hour
+the twin columns of glass at its portal are lighted and the Levee pours
+the first of its revelers into the spacious ground floor drinking room.
+The orchestra strikes up the first of its syncopated melodies; the
+barkeepers arrange their polished glasses in glittering rows; the
+waiters, soft-footed and watchful, take their places at their appointed
+stations.
+
+The revelers come in an order regulated by inexorable circumstance. In
+the van are the women with the professional escorts, haggard creatures
+who have served their time in the district and who are on the brink of
+that oblivion which means starvation and slow death. Youth and health
+have flown and now no paint nor cosmetic can cloak their real character.
+They must come early because their need of money is bitter and a watchful
+eye for opportunity must take the place of the physical allurement that
+once made life in the tenderloin so easy. They sink into their seats and
+wait, contemptuous of their escorts, and yet pitifully dependent upon
+them. For without the escorts they cannot enter the Cafe Sinister. That
+is a tribute which the rulers of the tenderloin, through them, pays
+tribute to the majesty of the law.
+
+A group of hardened rounders follows. These are men to whom the Cafe
+Sinister and the district have become a habit. They bring with them women
+of their own kind--women who, through years of dissipation, have still,
+like misers, managed to hoard some trace of bloom. They drink deeply, for
+the men are spenders. The wine flows free and the talk grows loud.
+Occasionally a man quarrels profanely with his companion and a
+soft-footed waiter with a thug's face whispers him to sullen silence.
+
+An hour flies by. Now the Levee, roused from its sodden, day-long
+slumber, is wide awake. The way between the twin pillars at the Cafe
+Sinister's entrance is choked with the flood of merry-makers. These
+newcomers are not so easy to classify as their predecessors. They are the
+crowd from the street,--the thief with his girl pal, eager to spend the
+plunder of their last successful exploit; the big corporation's
+entertainer, out to show a party of country customers the sights of a
+great city; the visitor from afar, lonely and seeking excitement; the man
+about town, the respectable woman who with a trusted male confidant seeks
+shady and clandestine amusement; college students with unspoiled
+appetites off for a lark; women of the district still new enough to the
+life of vice to find pleasure in its excitements; periodical drinkers out
+for a night of it; clerks, cashiers, bookkeepers, schoolboys and roués.
+
+And here and there, weaving in and out through this heterogeneous mob
+lurks the pander seeking for his prey--the ignorant young girl, trembling
+on the verge of her first step into the depths, the little lost sister of
+tomorrow.
+
+By ten o'clock the merry making in the Cafe Sinister had attained the
+vociferousness of a riot. As the swift-footed waiters passed more and
+more liquor about, the voices of the speakers rose higher and higher. At
+last the orchestra itself could scarcely be heard. The singers, half
+maudlin themselves, and knowing they could not be heard above the
+universal din, abandoned harmony and resorted to shouts and suggestive
+gyrations. A woman fell helplessly into the arms of her escort who,
+gloating, winked knowingly at a male companion. Another drunkenly
+attempted to dance and was restrained by the waiters. An elderly
+reprobate, convoying two unsteady young girls, importuned Druce for one
+of his private dining rooms.
+
+Druce and Anson watched over the revelers and directed the entertainers.
+"The Mastiff," comfortably full of his favorite liquor, whisky, glowered
+on the crowd with as near an aspect of good nature as he was able to
+muster. Druce, who knew his own success in business was due to alertness
+of mind and who was almost an ascetic in the matter of drink, was no less
+at peace with the world.
+
+"Money in that crowd," rumbled the huge Anson.
+
+"Yes," replied Druce, "business is mighty good."
+
+"How about our lease?"
+
+"The blow-off comes tonight."
+
+"You're sure of your plans?"
+
+"I am, if young Boland shows up."
+
+"Well, he'll be here?"
+
+"Yes, I wrote him an anonymous letter telling him if he wanted to see his
+girl, he could find her singing at the Cafe Sinister."
+
+"That ought to fetch him. How about the old man?"
+
+"He sent me word today that he'd be here and that he'd dropped hints to
+the son he'd heard some bad stuff about the girl."
+
+"You haven't talked to him?"
+
+"No; I got my orders. I stayed away."
+
+"How about the Welcome kid you married?"
+
+"She's down and out. I sent one of our cappers early in the week to look
+her up. Somebody'd slipped her a lone five dollar bill. She woke up
+yesterday morning broke. I don't know where she's eating, but I've sent
+word through the district to keep her hungry. She'll be in tonight."
+
+Druce spoke with indifference, but the truth was that he was not at all
+sure that Elsie Welcome would return. He had begun to respect the girl's
+strength of character. He had scarcely finished his sentence when he gave
+a gasp of relief.
+
+"Ah-h!" he muttered.
+
+"What's that?" demanded Anson.
+
+"Here she comes now."
+
+As they looked down through the drinking room they saw the slender figure
+of a girl approaching. She came slowly, supporting her wavering steps
+with the backs of the revelers' chairs. Her face was pale and desperately
+haggard. Several of the men as she passed clutched at her skirts and
+shouted invitations at her. She tore herself away from them and made
+straight for the place where Druce and Anson were standing. For a moment,
+Druce almost felt sorry for her.
+
+"You're back, kid?" he said softly.
+
+"Yes," replied the girl, fiercely.
+
+"You're going to be good?"
+
+Elsie burst out sobbing. It was her last struggle.
+
+"Come now, Elsie," Druce spoke almost tenderly. "Don't snivel."
+
+"Martin," the girl gasped appealingly. "O, my God! Be kind to me."
+
+"Don't worry about me, girlie. You forget that Sunday school stuff and
+you'll get along with me fine. You're hungry, aren't you, kid?"
+
+"I'm starving," replied the girl.
+
+"Come with me. I'll have the chef get you a big feed. After that I want
+you to come back and do what I tell you. I won't be hard on you, kid.
+You'll not have to work tonight. All I'll want you to do is sit up on the
+stand with my other entertainers."
+
+Elsie was too broken in spirit to reply. She followed her master dumbly.
+He led her to one of his small private dining rooms, arranged a seat for
+her and turned on the lights. Then he went back to the kitchen to order
+the girl's meal.
+
+After Druce had left, Elsie folded her arms on the table and cushioning
+her head on them, began to weep softly. Druce returned with the food,
+kissed her to take the sting from the feed, which both he and she knew
+was the price of her shame, and left her. The girl ate ravenously.
+Afterward she fell into an uneasy slumber against the cushions of the
+booth.
+
+She was awakened by someone entering the room. Looking up, she saw the
+bowed figure and gray hair of an elderly woman. The intruder carried a
+bucket of hot water in one hand and a mop in the other. She had come into
+the booth thinking it unoccupied, and did not see Elsie until she was
+very close to her.
+
+"I beg your pardon," she said, dropping her mop and bucket and starting
+back.
+
+Elsie stared at her. Then she stood up, her face pale as death, her eyes
+starting like the eyes of one who has seen a vision.
+
+"Mother!" she screamed. "Oh, God! Mother!" and flung herself into her
+mother's arms.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXII
+
+                         "THE MILLS OF THE GODS"
+
+
+After Druce left Elsie he went back to his favorite station behind the
+musicians' stand. He had been there only a moment when he saw the elder
+Boland enter. Boland came in quietly through a side door and stood
+looking about inquiringly.
+
+Druce silently summoned a waiter and sent him to Boland with a message. A
+little later the two men were in Druce's private office alone and the
+door was closed. They sat down at a table.
+
+"Well," said Druce, "I see you're on time."
+
+"Yes," replied Boland coldly. "I make it a point to keep my engagements.
+Your arrangements are complete, I suppose. I haven't heard a word from
+you all week."
+
+There was a petulance in his tone the reason for which Druce did not
+comprehend.
+
+"It's going to work out all right. One of the Welcome girls is here now.
+I'm expecting the other." He pushed an electric button. A waiter
+appeared.
+
+"Go out and ask the professor if that new entertainer I'm expecting has
+arrived," he ordered.
+
+The waiter was gone but a few seconds.
+
+"She's come," he reported. "She's up on the stand and will go on right
+after the intermission."
+
+"That's her," said Druce to Boland. The waiter vanished.
+
+"Good," said Boland. "Druce," he went on, "I'm pleased with the way
+you've handled this. Here's something to prove it." He took a document
+from his breast pocket and passed it across the table. It was the lease.
+
+"Thanks," said Druce, keenly pleased by an inspection of the papers,
+"that looks good to me."
+
+"It's yours," returned Boland, "but of course I expect you to carry out
+your part of the contract."
+
+"How about Harry?"
+
+"No need to worry about that. He'll be here."
+
+"Well, we're waiting on him."
+
+There was a pause. Neither man seemed to know how to continue the
+conversation. Druce broke the silence.
+
+"Boland," he asked, "what have you got against this girl?"
+
+Boland resented the question, but was compelled to answer.
+
+"She wants to marry my son. I don't think she's fit to marry him. If she
+were, she wouldn't be in a place like this."
+
+Druce laughed unpleasantly.
+
+"You know very well," he replied, "that she wouldn't be here if I hadn't
+managed it for you."
+
+Boland made no reply for this. Druce went on.
+
+"Tell me," he demanded, "on the square, now, is that all you've got
+against this girl?"
+
+"Just what do you mean by that, Druce?" demanded Boland, eying him
+calmly.
+
+"Didn't you know the Welcomes before this girl came into your son's
+life?"
+
+Boland turned very pale.
+
+"That's an idiotic question," he answered. "How would a man in my
+position know people like the Welcomes?"
+
+"When I was in Millville," replied Druce evenly, "I heard a good deal
+about old Tom Welcome. It seems that someone stole an invention from
+him."
+
+"Just why should I be interested in that story?"
+
+"I don't know," replied Druce. "It just struck me that you might be.
+There was no harm in asking, was there?"
+
+Boland ignored the question.
+
+"Look here," he said, changing the subject, "suppose you get this lease
+from me, are you sure you can continue doing business as you are without
+police interference?"
+
+Druce laughed and picked up the receiver of the telephone which stood on
+the table. There was an attachment that enabled Boland to hear at the
+same time. He handed the second receiver to the master of the Electric
+Trust.
+
+"What's the idea?" inquired Boland.
+
+"I'm just going to answer your question."
+
+He called for a number.
+
+"That's police station R," said Boland.
+
+"I know," replied Druce, "just listen."
+
+"Hello," he said presently, "is this you, Cap?"
+
+Boland heard a familiar voice answer affirmatively.
+
+"This is Druce talking," the dive-owner went on, "Druce of the Cafe
+Sinister. Say, we'll be open all night tonight. Don't make any trouble
+for us, you understand. Just let your fellows know that they're not to
+hear anything that goes on in this beat. I'll send McEdwards around in
+the morning with a special envelope for you. Get me?"
+
+Druce cut off the two telephones.
+
+"Well," he asked triumphantly, "what do you think of that?"
+
+Boland laughed cynically.
+
+"Rather good," he answered. "I know your friend, the captain. The fact
+is, I know him rather well. We belong to the same church." He chuckled
+over his own joke. "However," he went on, "I didn't come here to be
+entertained, nor to be initiated into the mysteries of the police
+department. Let's get down to business. I've got to get out of town
+tonight. I'm going to 'Frisco."
+
+"To 'Frisco?"
+
+"Yes, I'm in a mess. Mary Randall--"
+
+"Randall! Boland, don't tell me you're scared of that woman, too."
+
+"Man alive, haven't you heard? She got into my office in disguise and
+stole a lot of my papers. I don't know just yet what she's got, but I've
+decided to hunt seclusion for a while."
+
+"She was disguised?"
+
+"Yes, she came into my office as private secretary. I trusted her
+implicitly. You'll remember her. She gave the name of Miss Masters."
+
+Druce stood up with an exclamation. His face had gone white and he
+clutched at the table for support. Boland stared at him in astonishment.
+
+"What's hit you?" he demanded.
+
+Druce made no reply. Through his mind was passing the panorama of how he
+had delivered himself bound hand and foot to the girl he thought he was
+entrapping. Suddenly, he turned and dashed in a frenzy out of the room.
+He was bound, with murder in his heart, for Miss Masters' suite.
+
+As he came tearing out of the office he found himself suddenly seized and
+halted.
+
+"Let me go," screamed Druce, "damn you, let me go."
+
+He fought to release himself, but vainly. He looked up into the face of
+Harry Boland.
+
+"What's your hurry?" inquired young Boland coolly. "Don't be in a rush. I
+want to ask you a few questions."
+
+He produced a letter from his pocket. Druce recognized it at a glance as
+the anonymous note he had written to lure young Boland to the cafe.
+
+"Did you write that?" demanded Boland.
+
+Druce struggled in a frenzy.
+
+"To hell with you and your questions," he yelled. "Let me by or I'll kill
+you."
+
+He grappled with Boland and the two men wrestled out to the edge of the
+big drinking room.
+
+"You wrote it," Boland hissed in his ear.
+
+"It's a lie. I'm going to give you the beating of your life."
+
+The elder Boland, who had followed Druce, fell upon his son. Harry turned
+and recognized his father.
+
+"You here?" he demanded, facing his parent.
+
+"Yes," replied John Boland, "I'm here. I came, because I had been
+informed that you were to meet a woman of the tenderloin in this place;
+and when I find you, I find you fighting with a dive-keeper."
+
+Harry dropped the struggling Druce and turned on his father.
+
+"What do you mean?" he asked, defiantly.
+
+"I mean just that," replied John Boland. He turned toward the musicians'
+stand and pointed dramatically at Patience Welcome, who, her face almost
+as pale as her white lace gown, was advancing toward the front of the
+platform to sing.
+
+Harry Boland's face went white as hers.
+
+The words he gasped were drowned by a cry, Elsie Welcome, coming for the
+first time since her return to Druce into the drinking room, saw her
+sister standing upon the rostrum, poised to sing.
+
+"Patience! Patience!" she screamed in a voice of despair. "Oh, my sister,
+what brought you to this place?"
+
+She fell to the floor fainting. The whole cafe was in an uproar.
+
+Carter Anson, roused to fury by the disturbance, fought his way through
+the crowd to the place where he had seen her fall.
+
+Druce, escaped from Harry Boland, struggled from another angle to make
+his way through the mob. As if by magic half a score of policemen
+suddenly hemmed in the fighting mass. Druce, struggling blindly to make a
+pathway for himself, suddenly looked up to see Mary Randall standing on a
+table on the opposite side of the room directing the police. A wave of
+maniacal anger overwhelmed him. In a flash his hand went to his pocket
+and reappeared with a pistol.
+
+There was an explosion, a man's yell of rage, followed by a choking gulp
+of mortal anguish. Druce was seized and flung to the floor.
+
+At the same moment Mary Randall, leaping down from her table, ran to the
+center of the room. Carter Anson lay there, struggling through his last
+throes,--the bullet in his brain.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXIII
+
+                            AFTER THE TRAGEDY
+
+
+Mary Randall stood beside the dead body of Carter Anson. Such tragedy had
+not entered into her plans, nor had she conceived what it might be to see
+a man die bearing the bullet intended for her own intrepid heart. A
+strange numbness possessed her faculties.
+
+She heard the voice of Mrs. Welcome beside her. The mother was speaking
+with anguished entreaty to Elsie. The girl had risen to her feet and was
+gazing with a dreadful fascination at Druce, writhing in the grasp of the
+officers who seized him.
+
+"Come, Miss Randall," one of her police aids said to the reformer. "This
+is no place for you--now."
+
+"There must be something I can do," she spoke with a flash of her usual
+energy, then laid her hand on Mrs. Welcome's arm.
+
+"Harvey Spencer is here," she said. "There he is trying to get through
+the crowd to us now. Perhaps he can help you to persuade your daughter to
+go away with you."
+
+Elsie Welcome looked at Mary Randall, who was destined never to forget
+the pitiful revelation of the girl's dark eyes. Mary Randall read that
+despair of the lost mingled with woman's intense clinging to the man she
+has chosen,--her strange stubborn clinging, when, entangled, she hears an
+echo of happier and purer love.
+
+"How dare you meddle in people's affairs like this and put us into such
+dreadful trouble?" Elsie asked of the one who would help her. Then to her
+mother, pulling away from her longing clasp, "You understand that at a
+time like this my place is with my husband."
+
+Elsie doubled under the arms which would have detained her and ran out of
+the cafe.
+
+"Go to Millville, Mrs. Welcome, back to your old home, as soon you can.
+Let me look after Elsie. Go to this boarding-house (handing her a card).
+Go there with Patience tonight, and I will send you some money tomorrow."
+Miss Randall spoke quickly, and before Mrs. Welcome realized it, had
+hurried in pursuit of Elsie.
+
+But Elsie Welcome had disappeared.
+
+Mary Randall found herself standing, as all who work for those who sin
+and suffer must often stand, baffled by evil's resistance. Saddened by
+somewhat of a divine sadness, Mary went across to the rendezvous where
+her faithful Anna awaited her and left the field.
+
+Harvey Spencer came to her downtown office early next day. He found her
+surrounded by her strongest allies, already in conference as to the best
+means of pursuing their crusade which had aroused Chicago with the
+startling news of The Raid of Mary Randall on the Cafe Sinister,
+headlined in the morning newspapers.
+
+Harvey Spencer had taken Mrs. Welcome to the boarding-house designated by
+Miss Randall where she was joined by Patience--and of Patience you shall
+know presently. The remainder of the night, or most of it, he spent
+trying to learn what had become of Elsie.
+
+"I thought she might be still in that--hotel, as they call it," Harvey,
+haggard with his night's search, told Miss Randall. "I went to the jail
+too, but of course they would not let her inside there so late, even if
+she had wanted to."
+
+"She is sure to go there today to see Druce. Try again, Mr. Spencer, when
+you go out from here," said Miss Randall.
+
+"And keep you eye on Druce. Nobody will suspect you of being a detective.
+You can telephone here if you see any activity around him," said a clever
+special from headquarters.
+
+"Good scheme," commended the journalist, another of Mary Randall's
+strongest aids.
+
+Harvey Spencer made notes of the right steps to take and, thanking Miss
+Randall with a curious humility, went out again on his quest.
+
+"Now we must learn what the vice-moneymakers will try to do next," said a
+former high official in the municipality. "Our one safe bet is that they
+will all get together and that John Boland, the boss of the bunch, will
+map out the fight against us."
+
+"Is it a losing fight?" asked a famous banker, known among his intimates
+as the hard-headed enthusiast.
+
+"Right against wrong can never be permanently a losing fight," quietly
+said a small muscular clergyman from the northwest side.
+
+"It has taken two thousand years for mankind to begin this fight against
+buying and selling young virgins who can be coaxed or thrust into the
+market-place," said Mary Randall. "We must fight on, even in one
+seemingly losing field. It is not to be believed that the people of this
+nation will be content to submit very much longer to the presence of a
+band of prowling wolves tolerated by courts and protected by rascally
+lawyers whose acknowledged trade is to destroy virtue,--the latent
+motherhood of young women,--whose whole activity is directed to the
+exploitation of our little lost sisters."
+
+"Chicago has to lead the fight, as she has been one of the leaders in the
+trade," said the banker. "Now, for our next step!"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXIV
+
+                      "THE HIGHWAY OF THE UPRIGHT"
+
+
+Up to the moment when he heard the report of Druce's pistol and saw
+Carter Anson fall, Harry Boland's whole being had been concentrated in a
+consuming horror at sight of Patience Welcome in the Cafe Sinister.
+
+The crack of the pistol restored his composure. He saw clearly the infamy
+of the plot against her,--and against himself. One of the conspirators
+was already dead on the scene of this last of many crimes. Druce was
+struggling with the police, taking him for murder of Anson, his partner.
+
+John Boland, the third conspirator, faced his son in a desperate
+composure.
+
+"Come, Harry, we must get out of here. It will never do to be seen
+here--"
+
+"For you!" Harry shook off his father's hand upon his arm. "Go, by all
+means! I shall take care of myself." He walked towards the singers'
+platform beyond the seething crowd.
+
+John Boland believed of himself afterwards that he would have followed
+Harry, but at the moment he saw a bowed and gray-haired woman before him,
+great fear and horror on her face, pressing her way in from scrubbing in
+the booths beyond. The mop and bucket with which she had been working
+were in either hand. At sight of his face she dropped her tools of toil
+and clutched his coat. It was Tom Welcome's widow.
+
+He uttered a cry like a beast of prey as he shook her off; but he felt
+himself shiver, conscience making him a coward, and he hurried out,
+reaching by an exit the alley leading to a side street.
+
+A police lieutenant suddenly barred his way.
+
+"Not so fast there," said the functionary.
+
+Boland recognized the man as an officer whom he had once placed under
+obligation to him.
+
+"Good evening, Murphy."
+
+"Mr. Boland!"
+
+"Yes. I was passing and heard the shot. You understand, of course, that I
+wish to avoid being seen here. Do you know where I can find a taxi?"
+
+The policeman turned and summoned a taxicab with a gesture. Boland got in
+at the open door. He leaned forward and spoke with peculiar force,
+although very low:
+
+"If my son, Harry Boland, happens to pass by here, see that he gets into
+a taxi whose driver will bring him to my house, to my house, remember, no
+matter what address he gives."
+
+"I understand, sir." Probably the young man's been misbehaving, was what
+he thought.
+
+"Pay the driver--in advance--with this, or part of it," continued Mr.
+Boland.
+
+"Thank you, sir; thank you. I understand."
+
+Boland's car scuttled away into the darkness.
+
+Harry Boland, pushing through the crowd to Patience, saw the futile
+effort of Mrs. Welcome to take Elsie from the place. He heard Mary
+Randall's brief direction and spoke reassuringly to the anguished mother
+as he pressed a friendly hand on her slight shoulder.
+
+"I will see that Spencer takes you to that boarding-house, where you will
+be comfortable until you can get away. I will bring Patience. We may get
+there before you arrive."
+
+As John Boland foresaw, it was but a few moments after his own departure
+before Harry Boland reached the street looking for a conveyance. He was
+assisting Patience Welcome. Rather, she was clinging to him, sobbing like
+a frightened child. The shooting that had interrupted her pathetic
+attempt to sing was only part of the tragedy to her.
+
+"I--I saw my little sister in there," she sobbed. "She called me by name.
+And such a pathetic cry. Did you hear it?" Patience was sadly unnerved
+and ill.
+
+"Hush, dear one," Harry soothed her. "Your mother, Harvey and Miss
+Randall are there, you know. Whatever can be done, they will do. You are
+my one and only care, and just now, dearest girl, you're ill. I'll take
+you to the place where your mother is going. Now, please stop crying;
+try--try--everything will be all right."
+
+A taxicab appeared, the chauffeur seemingly having anticipated that he
+was wanted. Harry got in, half carrying Patience, and expecting to be
+stopped by an officer. But no policeman seemed to see or hear him as he
+gave the driver the address of the old-fashioned boarding-house selected
+by Mary Randall.
+
+They rode in silence. Patience sat apart from him, breathing deeply of
+the fresh air at the window of the car as they rushed swiftly through the
+city streets. Slowly he felt the tension of the situation released. It
+was as if the dazed girl were freed from the physical mesh which had been
+thrown about her.
+
+Then she spoke quite calmly, in her natural voice, but very slowly:
+
+"Harry, I once dreamed that I was in terrible trouble and that you came
+and helped me. Are you sure I am not dreaming now?"
+
+"Is it a happy dream, if you are, my darling?"
+
+"I--I don't know," faltered Patience. "It is wonderful to be here
+with--you."
+
+"Do you trust me, Patience? Do you trust me when I tell you that I care
+more for you than I ever knew I could care for anybody?"
+
+"Yes," she whispered.
+
+"I want to make you happy. I want to love you and work for you and have
+you for my wife, and make a home with you."
+
+"Harry!" She slipped her hand into his.
+
+"Harry, I still feel afraid. It was such a dreadful thing to see. Was
+that man killed? It was he who asked me to sing. They had been
+disappointed about getting a singer, he said, and he gave me ten dollars.
+All that money for a few songs--it seemed like stealing. But I took it.
+Mother helped put on this dress they gave me to sing in. You know I went
+there to help mother clean the place. And to think we saw a murder!"
+
+"My poor darling!" Something in his voice caused her to put her hand up
+to his face. He felt her finger tips on his eyelids, then down his wet
+cheeks.
+
+"My poor darling!" She put her arm around his neck--then their trembling
+lips met.
+
+Harry was the first to speak. "All that you have gone through brings us
+closer together than anything else in life possibly could, Patience. I am
+so proud of you and so down on myself that I ever let you out of my
+sight--"
+
+"You must not be down on my--"
+
+"Say it, dear! I want to hear my sweetheart say the word."
+
+"I was going to say 'my dearest,' but I'll say,--if you want me
+to,--my--my husband."
+
+"You dear, sweet wife!" responded Harry.
+
+After a few moments Harry observed that they were being taken farther
+than he had directed the man to go. The boarding-house was rather close
+to town. He found that they were well on the north side, nearing the
+quarter of his father's house. He called to stop the driver, but the man
+remained deaf to his efforts, except to increase the speed, and presently
+drew up at the Boland mansion.
+
+"How dare you bring me here?" Harry demanded, stepping out of the car to
+remonstrate.
+
+"Orders."
+
+"Orders! I ordered you where I wanted you to go. Here, if you need two
+fares for one job, you swindler! Hold on--"
+
+"Driver! Come here."
+
+Harry heard his father's stern voice from the opened doorway. "Driver!
+Take that girl wherever she wants to go. Harry, come in here! It's time
+for a show-down."
+
+"It certainly is time for a show-down!" Harry assisted Patience from the
+car. "You may wait and earn the fare I just paid you or go to jail," he
+said to the driver, and boldly led Patience into his father's house.
+
+The elder Boland turned into a den at the right of the front hallway and
+closed the door. He looked at Patience with an appraising glance, then
+kindly at his son.
+
+"I suppose you must be humored in this affair," he said in an indulgent
+manner, "while you haven't sense to see that the present is scarcely the
+time to devote yourself to any such young woman. What do you say to a
+trip to California? I'll foot all the bills, and later I will settle what
+you ask for on you." He spoke to Patience.
+
+"Thank you." She spoke without a tremor. "You may do something
+substantial for my mother, because you--took--my poor father's invention.
+Do you know, sir, that my poor father never recovered from that loss?"
+
+"Hell's fire!" yelled John Boland, "I--"
+
+"You see, sir," interrupted Harry deliberately, "it really is time for a
+show-down. I wouldn't go away from Chicago at present, even for the
+wedding journey which we will pretend you were honestly offering us. I am
+going to stay and fight it out. You will have to stay and fight it out,
+too."
+
+"Me?" blustered Boland. "What have I got to fight out?"
+
+"You know very well why you were at Druce's cafe tonight. You were in a
+plot against me, leagued with that fellow, Druce, and his tribe, too,
+against the crusade started by Mary Randall to protect girls. You prefer
+to make money exploiting them. Not directly, perhaps, but conspicuously
+indirect."
+
+"So you are turning traitor in--politics?" sneered his father. "Taking
+sides with a crazy fanatic, whose presence at the cafe caused the death
+of a good citizen of Chicago. Druce did not mean to shoot Anson."
+
+"I see your line of defense. It's you who have turned traitor--to all
+that is right in you as a man. See, here is the anonymous letter which
+summoned me to the cafe tonight. I wish you could tell me that you do not
+know who wrote that note."
+
+Boland read the letter scornfully. "How should I know who writes you
+letters? Young men who make alliances with women who frequent such places
+must expect such messages," he sneered.
+
+"Stop!" Harry's eyes blazed with anger. "We have borne all that we shall
+of that sort from you. One more such syllable and I shall not be able to
+speak to you as to my father--even in outward respect."
+
+"You seem already to have forgotten that completely."
+
+Harry let the sneer pass. "It is up to you, sir, to decide now--this
+moment--whether or not I ever look upon you as my father again. I have
+myself decided that I shall no longer be a party to your crimes."
+
+"Crimes! My God, this is too much!"
+
+"You are too shrewd a man to have a fool for a son. I see plainly that
+you were leagued with Druce and Anson to blacken the woman I love. But
+right is might and love is right. The whole dastardly affair enlightens
+me as to the nature of your alliance with that dive. Why did you renew
+the lease to Druce against my protest? I never realized until tonight the
+horror of your extensive holdings of tenderloin property. I don't want
+another cent from such sources."
+
+"Very well." The elder Boland shook with anger. "Get out of this house,
+you and your--fitting mate. Never let me see your face again. Tomorrow I
+will undertake a campaign which will brand you among your friends as a
+son who turned traitor to his father in his hour of stress. All my power,
+all my money, will be against you. I will crush you as I have every man
+who has dared oppose me. Get out of my house!"
+
+Harry gazed at his father in a tumult of pity and wrath, but he did not
+speak.
+
+Patience, her eyes filled with tears, her hands nervously clutching her
+'kerchief, walked up to the angry man.
+
+"I am sorry for you," she said, "just as I always used to be sorry for my
+poor father when he was drunk as you are now with your own anger. You
+know that I _am_ a fitting mate for your son. I don't understand your
+enmity unless it's because we're not rich like you."
+
+Harry caught Patience in his arms. "Remember, it makes no difference to
+me what my father says. I'm a man and able to choose my own wife." He
+looked at his father. "We are going now," he said firmly.
+
+There was no reply.
+
+The door closed behind his son. John Boland staggered to a couch and
+falling down beside it buried his face in his arms.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XXV
+
+                    THE INTERESTS VERSUS MARY RANDALL
+
+
+If John Boland was shaken by the interview with his son, there was no
+evidence of it in his bearing when he appeared at the offices of the
+Electric Trust the following morning. As he took his accustomed place at
+his desk he looked tired, but he wore what La Salle street knew as his
+fighting face.
+
+Boland had scarcely established himself for the day when he discovered
+that his decision to remain in Chicago had been anticipated by those who
+knew him well in affairs. A dozen messages were waiting for him. The
+forces opposed to Mary Randall and her reforms looked to him for
+leadership.
+
+As soon as the details of the raid on the Cafe Sinister had become
+definitely known, there had been a quick general movement on the part of
+the leaders of the Levee to get together. They met in secret places to
+deplore the taking off of Anson, to form alliances against their common
+enemy. From these meetings went appeals for protection to the forces
+higher up.
+
+Aid was invoked of the great financial interests involved, directly and
+indirectly, in the traffic in souls. Political overlords of the city sent
+word that the protection demanded should not be wanting. Within twelve
+hours they had effected an organization whose ramifications extended into
+wholly unexpected places. Then, having formed the machine, they turned
+with one accord to John Boland to guide it.
+
+His acceptance of this leadership was unavoidable, even if he had wished
+to avoid it. To reject it would have been treason to the forces which had
+fought side by side with him in many a former and desperate campaign. To
+give Boland credit, his courage was equal to the task he had no wish to
+avoid. He knew the situation was dangerous, but he was a fighter born.
+
+Having made up his mind to give battle, Boland addressed himself to the
+task of outlining his campaign. He was too shrewd, too thoroughly
+familiar with all the elements making up Chicago, to underestimate his
+enemy. He knew that Mary Randall was appealing passionately to a public
+morality which hated the vice system with a wholehearted hatred. He knew,
+too, that when the light of truth fell upon his followers they would
+scurry to shelter. His first step was to exclude from his offices every
+employe of whose loyalty he could not be completely certain. He had his
+bitter lesson on that score, certainly, he told himself.
+
+By telephone and by private messenger he proceeded to summon his chief
+allies to a conference. These men arrived within an hour. One was a
+United States Senator, two were bankers of impeccable reputation. One was
+a political boss whose authority was a by-word in one of the great
+parties, another a philanthropist whose spectacular gratuities to public
+institutions came from huge dividends made for him by underpaid employes,
+and with him a clergyman managed by this philanthropist and the bankers
+and a newspaper publisher whose little soul had been often bought and
+sold, so that certain of his profession were wont to say one could see
+thumb-marks of Mammon on him as he passed by.
+
+Boland did not invite Grogan to this meeting. He intended at first to ask
+him, but his friend had shown too much sympathy of late with sentiment in
+life.
+
+John Boland's council of war was in session for five hours. Every phase
+of the situation was taken up and discussed with thoroughness
+characteristic of these leaders of men, with thoroughness, too, that
+showed full familiarity with all the conditions of commercialized vice in
+Chicago. The evasions and bombast wherewith these citizens were
+accustomed to adorn their public addresses before vice commission
+inquiries were strangely lacking. They spoke among themselves plainly and
+without pretenses.
+
+Towards the close of this conference John Boland offered his plan of
+action:
+
+"Gentlemen," he addressed the others from the head of his directors'
+table in his inner office. "We all agree that what we have most to fear
+is publicity. In fact, if these reformers had no publicity they would be
+without weapons. As you are aware, the extent to which we can control the
+newspapers is limited. If news comes to them in the regular way they are
+bound to print it, so if we are to avoid disastrous publicity we must
+stop it at its source.
+
+"At this moment the 'news' of the situation centers about Druce and those
+of his employes who are now in jail. We can't prevent his being indicted,
+we can't prevent his case coming to trial, if we allow him to remain in
+jail.
+
+"My friends, I need not tell you that such a trial would fill the
+newspapers with what they call 'exposures' of vice conditions that would
+be calamitous. You all agree with me that vice is a terrible thing. We
+know--none better, as our discussions have indicated--how great this evil
+is in our city. But there is something more menacing than vice,--namely,
+an ill-controlled and hysterical anti-vice crusade, rushing on and
+intoxicating itself with its own sensations, and shaking the business
+fabric of the city.
+
+"Think of the want that will come to the poor in Chicago if confidence in
+our leading business men should be seriously shaken! It is our duty as
+pillars--if I may say so--of Chicago's financial structure to avoid, to
+prevent, public trials of vice cases.
+
+"How are we to go about suppressing the excitement of a trial of Martin
+Druce? Various expedients suggest themselves to us all. Is not the most
+feasible to have Druce released on bail?"
+
+"Yes, to any amount!" called two voices.
+
+"I believe the matter can be arranged," replied John Boland, graciously.
+"Indeed, I have taken the liberty to discuss that phase of the situation
+with Judge Grundell. He is of opinion that Druce can be freed. My own
+attorneys have given the subject some consideration also. As I understand
+it, Druce is booked for murder--"
+
+"Is murder a bailable offense in Chicago?"
+
+"Ordinarily, no. But in this case it can be shown that there were
+extenuating circumstances. We can make a showing of facts to demonstrate
+that the killing of Carter Anson was purely accidental."
+
+"Druce was only trying to shoot Mary Randall, as I heard it," said a grim
+voice.
+
+"H'm! Suppose we say instead that Druce thought some one was creating a
+disturbance in his place of business, became excited and fired. The
+bullet hit Anson. Our opponents are not expecting, probably, any move by
+us towards the release of Druce on bail. It is unlikely that they will
+resist the application. In any event, I have already taken up the matter
+with the judge.
+
+"With Druce freed and resting in safe seclusion, I consider it advisable
+to place him in possession of facilities that will enable him to remain
+at liberty for an indefinite period--until this excitement has blown
+over, you understand."
+
+"We can send him out to China on business," said one.
+
+"Exactly. My attorney has a young man who will see that he is rightly
+started on his journey, avoiding all publicity. The cases of his employes
+will come on for trial; but with Druce out of the way, it will be
+extremely difficult for our opponents to obtain any convictions. Thus
+this whole sensation will fall flat and the reform crusaders will find
+themselves discredited before the public."
+
+Applause welcomed John Boland's summing up of the situation and his
+formulation of a practical plan. Members of the conference rose smiling
+cheerfully, shook hands all around and made it plain that each was ready
+to pay, pay, pay. The door had not closed behind them before John Boland
+set in motion the machinery which was to set Martin Druce free.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXVI
+
+                               OUT ON BAIL
+
+
+When Martin Druce heard the news that bail had been raised for his
+release and that all arrangements were being made for his flight and
+concealment, it was exactly half an hour before the bail bond was signed
+and the order sent to the prison that he should be set at liberty.
+
+Broken by his incarceration, terrified by his murderous experience of the
+last night at the cafe, red-eyed and restless, the dive-keeper was pacing
+up and down his cell. A pickpocket whom he knew and who, through his own
+political pull was serving a term as a trusty, brought the information to
+him scrawled on a bit of cigarette paper which, with a little warning
+whistle, he dropped through the bars of the steel cage.
+
+Druce picked up the note and read it furtively. He waited for the trusty
+to pass him again, then beckoning him, he whispered, "See if my gal isn't
+outside somewhere. She just left here. Tell her to wait. She can get into
+the automobile which they will be sure to send for me."
+
+It was not affection, but cowardice, that led Druce to think of Elsie
+first. Since he had been locked up he had crumbled under his trouble. He
+was so much shaken in mind and body by the killing of Anson and by his
+arrest that he was actually afraid to go out of the jail alone.
+
+After what seemed an eternity of waiting he heard footsteps in the
+corridor. A guard appeared and unlocked the iron door, beckoned to Druce,
+and he passed out.
+
+In a little waiting-room an iron-faced jail attendant handed him his
+watch and knife and some money taken from him when he was locked up. A
+lawyer whom he knew signaled him to follow.
+
+Another steel door stood open and Druce found himself outside the prison,
+breathing the free air of night. An automobile stood there. Druce saw
+that Elsie was already within.
+
+"The driver has instructions," said the lawyer. "Later you will hear
+further from me."
+
+"What to hell are they going to do for me?" growled Druce.
+
+"No time to argue," said the lawyer. "Here!" He pressed something in his
+hand. "Your game is to get away while the getting is good." He slammed
+the door as Druce got in. The car turned the corner and went north.
+
+"Where are we going?" Elsie asked.
+
+Druce mumbled an unintelligible answer.
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Shut up your ranting at me!" He shook off her hand. "I guess you'll get
+your three squares a day."
+
+Nothing more was said for several moments. Elsie lay back with her eyes
+closed. By the light from occasional street lamps Druce was counting a
+roll of bills.
+
+"Here, kid, look at this." He spoke with just a touch of softness and
+bravado. "That young guy slipped it to me. My backers got to give me a
+nice trip to foreign lands. There'll be plenty of kale. I'm going to take
+you along, see." He did not add that her too great knowledge of his
+methods made others desirous that she, too, should be far away when the
+trial of the dive's employes came to pass. Elsie opened her eyes.
+
+"I should think you would show that you feel a little bit glad that I'm
+out," he whined. "Think of those days in that jail."
+
+Elsie would not have dared fail to express sympathy for him, but he was
+in need of a match for the cigarette he held. Hailing the chauffeur, he
+had the next instant forgotten his demand.
+
+They drove in silence until they reached the house that had been prepared
+for their hiding-place. "Furnished rooms--Light Housekeeping" was
+inscribed on a card, tacked conspicuously in the doorway.
+
+A woman near middle age, inclined to be fleshy, with large features that
+reflected the dim hall light, met them, her arms akimbo.
+
+"Everything's all right for you folks. Upstairs front. There's a gas
+stove in the closet if you all--
+
+"We ain't pikers--we'll get our eats sent in. Here, take this." Druce put
+a slip of paper and a greenback into Elsie's hand.
+
+"Go to the drug-store there at the corner and get this prescription
+filled," he ordered. "It's morphine. I've got to sleep tonight."
+
+Elsie obeyed passively. When she returned Druce was pacing the room wild
+with impatience. His greenbacks and a bottle of absinthe lay on the
+table.
+
+He lost no time in resorting to the morphine. "Absinthe is the stuff to
+put life in your body; but it's the good old dope to make you forget all
+your troubles," he soliloquized, Very shortly he was on the bed, sound
+asleep.
+
+Elsie paced softly back and forth in the room for a long time. Then she
+went out into the dark hallway. She opened the window and stood looking
+into the street. It was quiet there. The stars looked down on a deserted
+way.
+
+That big bright star over there! Was it not the one she and her sister
+used to choose when wishing from their bedroom window at Millville! How
+long ago that seemed; how wide and dreadful life's abyss between!
+
+"If I had known, if I had known!" Elsie shuddered and glanced towards the
+closed door. "I was bound to have my own way. My--own--way. That's it.
+There was something in me--" She faced her actions, she probed into her
+thoughts from the hour she first met Martin Druce. She marshalled her
+scathing shames before the judgment bar of her womanhood. In the flaming
+fires of tortured conscience she stood and suffered.
+
+Then she began to wonder about the future. Where was she bound? Where
+would he be sent? What strange lands might she see?
+
+How could she go with him? How could she stay behind? The street--the
+dreadful streets of night!
+
+Elsie shuddered, remembering those nights in the Levee, the fear and
+horror, and at last the shameful, gnawing hunger that drove her to him
+again.
+
+Back in the room where the dive-keeper lay in stupor Elsie spread a quilt
+on the floor and went wearily to her broken rest.
+
+When she awoke Druce was trying nervously to roll a cigarette. The paper
+broke.
+
+"Here, you, it's morning. It's time you woke up. Take this money. Get me
+some cigarettes. I can't roll them."
+
+He was a being frightening to see by this time. The morphine and the
+French poison had torn his nerves to fragments. His eyes glared like
+coals in his pasty white face.
+
+Elsie did not try to talk to him. She saw that he was beyond that. She
+took some money from the table and went out again to buy the cigarettes
+and food. When she returned Druce refused to eat. He took up the bottle
+of absinthe and drank from it, swallowing the burning liquid with
+animal-like gulps that made Elsie shudder.
+
+"You'll kill yourself," said Elsie. "Take some of this milk."
+
+"Mind your own damn business," returned Druce, hoarsely. "You stick to
+milk. I'll stick to absinthe."
+
+Again he lay down and again he slept. The long day passed. Night came and
+with a wild wind and a beating rain.
+
+Druce woke in a half delirium.
+
+"More absinthe, more absinthe," he muttered. The bottle on the table was
+empty. "Why didn't you have another bottle here? What have you been
+doing, eh?"
+
+"Do you think you better take any more?" asked Elsie.
+
+Druce stood glaring at her. His eyes flamed as he rushed across the room
+like a madman. Before she could get out of his way he struck her a brutal
+blow that felled her to the floor, and kicked her as she struggled. He
+reached for the empty bottle and brandished it over her.
+
+"Damn you, get out of here quick and get me that dope!"
+
+Elsie got to her feet.
+
+"I'll go," she said, faintly.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXVII
+
+                    HARVEY SPENCER TAKES UP THE TRAIL
+
+
+Harvey had waited about the jail for days. He was certain that Elsie
+Welcome would return to Druce, and he was resolved to make a great effort
+to induce her to leave him.
+
+In his unsubtle makeup the measure of his devotion was as great as the
+measure of his unspoiled manhood. The girl he wished to make his wife had
+been taken from him. She had removed herself far from his kindness and
+care, but he could not cease to offer her the care she needed more
+poignantly than before.
+
+The personal interest of so conspicuous a person as Mary Randall, in
+Elsie's case, had undoubtedly urged Harvey on--when otherwise he might
+have given up. Even so, his courage and persistency, and personal
+sacrifices, were wonderful to behold.
+
+On the night when Druce was at last removed from the jail Harvey was
+standing in an alley opposite the public entrance to the jail watching
+the automobile which stood awaiting the coming of someone from within.
+
+Finally he saw the slender figure of a woman emerge from a doorway and
+enter the automobile. He knew that figure. He ran across the street and
+around the car. He noted its number with one of those keen flashes of
+memory, conscious at the moment that he should remember that number as
+long as he drew breath.
+
+He flung open the door on the further side of the automobile.
+
+Elsie faced him. "What are you doing here?" she asked in an icy little
+voice.
+
+"I--no--Won't you come to your mother, Elsie? Won't you come away from
+this man? Your mother and Patience love you so much and have been trying
+so hard to find you and--"
+
+"I can't, Harvey--I--perhaps--Oh! Go away. Druce is coming. He will--hurt
+you."
+
+"It doesn't matter about me. It's you."
+
+"I--I must stand by my husband."
+
+"Husband! He isn't your husband. He fooled you with a marriage license.
+Anybody can get a license in Chicago, but Druce's license was never
+returned. He likely got some fellow to pretend to perform the marriage.
+Elsie, it wasn't legal, I can prove it."
+
+For an instant Elsie's spirit flamed in her eyes and her burning cheeks
+paled. Then she saw Druce coming and she turned towards him wearily, a
+strange quivering and drooping of her eyelids alone showing that she had
+heard. In the presence of her master she grew meek as a little child.
+
+Harvey drifted back into the shadows of the jail, powerless to help her,
+and saw her driven away with the man who had ruined her earthly life.
+
+Fighting his grief and despair, he went to the nearest drug-store and
+telephoned Miss Randall of what he had seen.
+
+"Druce out on bail! A murderer out on bail in Chicago!" she exclaimed.
+"Oh, Harvey, if only you had thought to jump into a taxicab and follow
+them to see where they have been taken."
+
+"I'm no detective. I am going back to Millville. Perhaps I can get back
+my old job in the grocery store," he answered grimly.
+
+"Hello! Miss Randall! Hello! I remember the number of the machine." He
+gave it.
+
+"Good! Wait a minute till I see whose that is. Hold the wire." She
+consulted her list of the automobile numbers entered in Illinois and
+found that this one belonged to a professional bondsman named Comstock.
+
+She gave Harvey the man's residence number.
+
+"Go out there first thing in the morning and see if you can find out from
+the chauffeur where the machine went tonight. Keep a stiff upper lip, Mr.
+Spencer, you have really done splendidly."
+
+Harvey went early next day to the address given him, a residence of the
+type called stone-fronted, in a district no longer fashionable. There was
+a garage, but no automobile. Harvey made a careful survey of the premises
+without gaining ground. He saw another of Mary Randall's aids come,
+linger about and go away; but remembering her advice about keeping a
+stiff upper lip, he stayed on. He was to be rewarded late in the
+afternoon.
+
+A car rumbled into the garage. Its colored driver immediately began
+washing it and Harvey sauntered back into the yard. The number on it was
+the one printed on his memory.
+
+From somewhere back in his tired brain came the impulse to say,
+
+"I'm a repair man from Gavin's garage. Mr. Comstock told me to come over
+and take a look at his car. Said he had it out in the rain last night and
+it wasn't working right."
+
+"Yes, sah; that car certainly has been drove last night. Some of the
+battery connections got wet." The chauffeur was glib enough.
+
+"Lights and ignition out of order?" Harvey pretended to examine the car,
+asking seemingly careless questions and gaining from the negro the
+information that the car had gone from the jail with Druce to an obscure
+street far out on the northwest side. The man could not give the number
+of the house, but said it was one of three in the middle of "a short
+little street."
+
+Harvey made the excuse that he must go back to the garage where he was
+employed to get his tools, and hurried away.
+
+It was growing dark and a wild, stormy rain-wind was blowing when he
+reached the remote neighborhood described for him by the bondsman's
+talkative servant. He was gazing at the three forbidding dwellings
+standing near the center of the block, trying to make up his mind which
+to approach first, when he saw Elsie in her long rain-coat come out of
+the middle house, hesitate a moment, then hurry down the steps into the
+street.
+
+He slipped into the shadow of a house, his heart thumping.
+
+"Elsie!" he called softly in a voice scarcely above a whisper.
+
+She stopped, startled.
+
+"Is it Harvey?" Elsie peered doubtingly into the darkness, then stepped
+trustingly towards him as he replied,
+
+"Yes, it's sure Harvey." He caught the sadness in her words and his voice
+shook. "Won't you come away with me now? Your mother wants you!"
+
+"Your life is in danger with him. Why don't you leave him?" he added
+earnestly.
+
+"Leave him," she repeated. "Oh, if I only could! My mother and
+Patience--how are they?"
+
+"They are well and safe, only they want you. They're going back to
+Millville, to the same cottage. It's going to be all fixed over. Patience
+is going to be married--Mr. Harry Boland."
+
+Tears streamed from Elsie's eyes. She leaned against the iron fence that
+skirted the sidewalk.
+
+"Don't you see, Harvey, I just couldn't go home? I couldn't bear to make
+Patience--ashamed of me. Don't tell her that, though, will you? Tell them
+that I have to stay with my--my--oh, don't let mother know you saw me.
+Don't let her know any different."
+
+"You poor little thing--"
+
+She looked about her in alarm. "I mustn't stay here. You mustn't, either.
+It's no use, Harvey. The life's got me--I can't turn back."
+
+The next moment she was running down the street as if hurrying from a
+pursuer.
+
+Harvey saw her enter the corner drug-store, waited a little while, then
+decided he too had business in the drug-store. He would telephone Miss
+Randall--but he must be careful. Elsie was receiving a package from the
+drug clerk, as he entered the 'phone booth--and left while he was
+talking. Harvey was standing with his face to the wall, speaking in a
+whisper, lest his message would be overheard. He did not see Elsie
+depart.
+
+He got the reformer herself on the telephone.
+
+"I have found them," he said.
+
+"Good!" Joy and relief were in her tones. "Watch them carefully, won't
+you? We'll have detectives there in a jiffy with a new warrant for Druce.
+This time for white slavery. He will not escape us again."
+
+Harvey gave the number of the house where Druce and Elsie had been
+hidden, appointed a rendezvous with the detective and returned at once to
+watch the house. He decided that Elsie had hurried back while he was at
+the telephone.
+
+In less than an hour an automobile rushed up to the house. Two men got
+out and hurried into the place. One of them he recognized as the lawyer
+he had seen at the entrance of the jail. There were not his detectives.
+
+The storm had increased and the rain was driving in blinding torrents
+across the street.
+
+Harvey saw a group of people suddenly emerge from the house. The
+chauffeur jumped down and took part with the struggling little crowd. He
+could hear Druce swearing loudly, calling out Elsie's name with words of
+abuse. The men pushed the drunken man into the car, and got in after him.
+
+Harvey looked about for some sort of a vehicle, but none was in sight and
+the auto was actually starting. He sprang on the rear, spring and,
+crouching, hung on desperately. They drove for a long time; to him it
+seemed hours as his hands grew numb and his muscles ached from clinging
+to his precarious hold. Fortunately the storm had subsided.
+
+The driver turned into a dark, cobble paved street. The auto swayed and
+jolted like a ship on the rocks. The road was full of pitch-holes and as
+the wheels slipped into them a blinding spray of muddy water was flung
+into Harvey's face. The machine put on more speed and swung around a
+corner. Another hole! The car careened, almost turned over, and Harvey
+was thrown into the street.
+
+As he struggled to his feet the red rear light of the automobile was two
+blocks away. But he went on, gasping for breath, stumbling. Presently he
+found himself in the district near the river, close to the north side
+water front, which is deserted after night-fall.
+
+He had hurried on like a man in a dream. Now he came to the edge of the
+river and stood staring down into the water.
+
+Out in the stream he could see the shadowy outline of a boat. Looking
+more closely, he saw that he was scarcely two hundred feet from the
+craft. The darkness had multiplied the distance; it was now penetrated by
+a lantern light moving on the deck, evidently in the hand of someone who
+was standing aft on the boat.
+
+There was distinct, loud talking and swearing between men.
+
+Harvey thought that it was a fishing smack. Its demonstrative passengers
+were bent upon waking up the night and almost woke him up to the purpose
+of his night's errand when he heard a loud voice say:
+
+"Cut that out, Druce. No more boozing, d'you hear?"
+
+"D-r-u-c-e."
+
+Harvey was as near fainting as a healthy young man might be with the
+shock of this surprise after his tremendous exertions and his fall. He
+stood as if petrified.
+
+But his ears still caught the sound of swearing and he saw men moving
+quickly about on the deck, then the gray white of sails spreading like
+gaunt ghosts. The swish of water told him that the boat was moving, that
+his quarry was slipping into pitch-blackness ahead.
+
+That was the finish of his courage.
+
+Harvey felt his limbs trembling, felt something trickle down his face. He
+was beaten.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+                         THE FORCES THAT CONQUER
+
+
+When the tenderloin learned that Martin Druce had been released on a bond
+for thirty thousand dollars, the tenderloin laughed.
+
+The laugh was low and cunning and there was more than the suggestion of a
+sneer in it. It rang from one end of the district to the other,
+convulsing dive-keepers who for days had been as funereal as undertakers.
+It sounded in dance halls and bagnios, in barrooms and gambling dens.
+
+It eddied up into Chicago's higher air and found an echo in clubs
+frequented by distinguished financier-politicians.
+
+John Boland had won! The brain that had never failed had proved its
+resourcefulness once again in this hour of dire trouble. Druce was gone.
+He would never be heard of in Chicago again. It had cost thirty thousand
+dollars, but what was thirty thousand dollars? Mary Randall and her
+crusaders were crushed. Anson was dead. Druce was gone.
+
+What mattered it now how much evidence Mary Randall had gathered in
+against the Cafe Sinister! There would be a period of quiet. The
+tenderloin would carefully observe all the proprieties. Then the case of
+the State against Martin Druce would be called and Druce would not
+respond to that summons. And so Mary Randall's sensation would die an
+unnatural death--death from smothering, death from lack of expression.
+Afterward the tenderloin would resume its old operations. No wonder the
+tenderloin laughed!
+
+John Boland felt none of this exultation when he returned to his office
+on the morning following Druce's release. An indefinable oppression
+weighed him down. He had won, he knew--and yet the air about him seemed
+charged with prescience of evil. He tried to shake it off and could not.
+He was anxious, too, about Harry. Why, he asked himself, should he worry
+about an ungrateful son. John Boland did not know the answer, yet the
+answer was very plain. His son Harry was his own flesh and blood and no
+man can cut himself off from his own flesh and blood without feeling some
+sort of reaction.
+
+John Boland, the man of brain and iron was only human after all. He loved
+his son.
+
+He was in a state of gloomy meditation when he opened his desk and
+resumed his day's work. The telephone bell jangled constantly. The
+councillors who had participated in the conference over Druce's case
+which had resulted so happily were calling up to congratulate Boland on
+the success of his maneuver. Somehow these felicitations did not please
+him as his fellow advisers had expected.
+
+His mood was gloomy. He could not shake it off. Constantly the same
+question returned to his mind he had won, yes, but what difference did it
+make? Was he any happier? Was the world any better? Boland had never been
+worried by questions of this sort before. He could not answer them.
+
+He was still in this gray mood when the guardian of his door announced
+the arrival of Grogan. Michael Grogan was, perhaps, Boland's most
+intimate friend. He had not taken Grogan into his confidence when he
+planned his coup to release Druce. He felt that Grogan would not be in
+sympathy with his campaign for destroying the work of the reformers.
+Still he was glad to see Grogan. After all he was a friend. And this
+morning John Boland, for the first time, perhaps, in his life, felt the
+need of a friend.
+
+"John," said Grogan taking a seat, "I see you've 'sprung' Druce?"
+
+"Yes? Mike you're an inveterate reader of the newspapers."
+
+"They're yelling about it this morning."
+
+"Let them yell."
+
+"You did it?"
+
+"Well Mike, I'm a modest man. I had something to do with it."
+
+"It's a rotten business!"
+
+"What!"
+
+"I said it was a rotten business."
+
+"The commercial interests of the city demanded it. Do you think I will
+stand idly by and see a bunch of half-baked reformers shake down the
+business institutions of Chicago?"
+
+"John, they are right."
+
+"O yes, I suppose if you take the mamby-pamby, hysterical, sentimental
+end of it, any campaign that hits at vice is right."
+
+"It was a great movement. Mary Randall is a fine girl. You'll live to
+regret that you helped to thwart her."
+
+"Pshaw, what's the matter with you, man? You're blood seems to be turning
+to milk. The papers will howl for a few days and then they'll forget it.
+We'll invite them to. We'll suggest that if they don't forget it the
+interests we represent may feel called upon to cut down their
+advertising. They'll forget it all right."
+
+"No, John," Grogan spoke deliberately. "You can't kill off a great and
+righteous movement by choking a few newspapers. The newspapers are
+powerful but their power has its limits. That girl has built a fire under
+this town that will rage in spite of you or me, or any one else. We can't
+stop it." Grogan rose. "That's all," he said, "I just dropped in to let
+you know how I feel about it. I thought I might be able to persuade you
+to get out of this fight. I guess, John, you're incorrigible. Well, no
+hard feelings."
+
+Boland laughed. "Have a drink as you go out. You need something to cheer
+you up."
+
+Grogan stopped. "Where's Harry?" he asked suddenly.
+
+Boland flushed and his brow darkened.
+
+"I don't know," he answered. "He and I have had a misunderstanding. He
+insists on marrying this Welcome girl. I don't know where he is and I
+don't care."
+
+Grogan looked surprised. "John," he said, "I'd feel sorry for you if I
+didn't know you are lying. You do care. You can't conceal it. You care
+now, and worse you'll be caring more and more as time goes on. John,
+there are some things even you can't do."
+
+"Well, Mike, what are they?"
+
+"You can't beat Nature and you can't beat God. Good day."
+
+In vain Boland scoffed at Grogan's sentimentalism. Again and again the
+words rose in his mind:
+
+You can't beat Nature and you can't beat God.
+
+The telephone rang. At the other end of the wire was that senator who had
+been at his conference. He asked Boland in a frightened voice if he had
+seen the papers, and then rang off.
+
+Boland, alarmed, sent a boy in haste for the latest editions. The boy
+returned and spread them out on the desk before him.
+
+Again the telephone rang. This time it was the clergyman who had
+participated in the conference.
+
+"Do you know that Mary Randall is out in a statement that she knows full
+details of what she calls the plot that resulted in the liberation of
+Martin Druce?" he demanded. "She says she will give the whole thing to
+the newspapers later. They are calling it in the streets below my study
+window now. Can't something be done to head off that statement?"
+
+"What would you suggest? Why don't you see some of the editors?" Boland
+returned.
+
+"Oh, that's impossible. My dear Boland, think of me. If my name should be
+published in this connection my reputation would be ruined."
+
+Boland laughed savagely into the telephone and hung up the receiver, only
+to lift it again and hear another appeal for help, this from the
+publisher. He also feared ruin.
+
+Another call. The politician whose power in a great political party was a
+by-word was barking at the other end of the wire. He accused Boland of
+destroying him.
+
+"You've destroyed us," he yelped. "We're ruined. You've blundered."
+
+Boland was beyond speech by this time. He seized his hat and rushed out
+into the street. Everywhere boys were shouting the extras. Several people
+who recognized him as he passed paused to look after him curiously. He
+walked directly to his club.
+
+A few men gathered there reading newspapers paused to look after him
+curiously, bowed coldly and at once resumed reading. Others seemed to
+avoid him. Boland felt that the newspapers' conspicuous comment on a
+certain financial magnate prominent in the electrical world in connection
+with the vice-scandal pointed at him too plainly for any one in Chicago
+to misunderstand.
+
+He called his car and drove to his lonely home.
+
+That night John Boland had a strange vision. He saw an eternity of pain
+and everlasting darkness. Through it the nightmare of his past life in
+strangely terrifying pictures passed before his mind.
+
+Scenes of his boyhood, the panorama of his young manhood, pictures of his
+battle for success against overwhelming forces in the great city. These
+pictures returned again and again, vivid in their relief. He saw again
+the death of his wife and the spirit of darkness that had then come to
+walk beside him, taunting him that now he was of necessity a cold,
+calculating, lonely, indomitable man, not knowing how to give to his only
+son fatherly tenderness.
+
+This phase passed. He seemed to enter into a larger world full of
+terrifying monsters, all of human form. One he recognized as Druce,
+another as Anson, a third as the senator whose seat he had helped to get.
+And with them came a host of smaller figures, some struggling for life,
+and being crushed down into oblivion under his inexorable progress, some
+fighting with one another lest they too be torn down and crushed before
+him.
+
+There were piteous girl faces and worn kindly faces of women and men and
+these had gone down before the others because they had not the power of
+resistance needed in this battle. It was a great whirling nightmare of
+continuous struggle.
+
+And always walking by his side and seeming to grow stronger and more
+terrible as he tore his path through every obstacle strode his guide, the
+spirit of darkness.
+
+At last they were alone, he and the spirit. And the spirit turned upon
+him and clutched him by the throat. He struggled in that grasp just as
+others had struggled in his own grasp, tortured and futile. And again
+those words from Grogan:
+
+_"You can't beat Nature and you can't beat God!"_
+
+Sweat stood out on John Boland's forehead.
+
+He awoke with a mighty effort and sat upright. Around him was the
+emptiness and loneliness of the great bed-chamber. He saw with eyes wide
+open and brain alert a picture that looked like a reality and not a
+vision.
+
+It was of a trembling man bent with age and loneliness.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXIX
+
+                          THE CALL OF ETERNITY
+
+
+Elsie walked on and on eastward towards the lake. For a week she had been
+living alone in a room she had found near the park on the night that she
+left Harvey Spencer, telephoning in the drug-store. She had resolved that
+instant to go. It was to be "Now or never"--and she hurried away in an
+opposite direction from the hiding place--and from Druce.
+
+The little money that he had put in her hands for drugs had somehow
+lasted her until now. She had been too ill to go out, her body racked
+with fever.
+
+She was conscious that she must tomorrow find some work to do, for the
+landlady had twice asked her for the next week's rent. She looked in at
+the door of a laundry where a German woman was singing as she ironed
+children's dresses by the light of a flaring gas jet. It looked pleasant
+and peaceful in there. Perhaps that motherly woman would let her work
+with her. She would see tomorrow.
+
+Elsie walked on towards the lake. She wanted to look at the water. She
+wanted to breathe the cool breath of great winds coming over the water to
+cool this fierce fire of shame and horror fevering her soul, flaming in
+her delicate cheeks.
+
+Elsie came to the lake front at a wide high lot between two comfortable
+mansions on Sheridan Road.
+
+Lights of homes shone through the night's darkness. Beams as of sunshine
+danced across the water.
+
+A light from an upper chamber in the nearest home shone across her and
+streamed onward to the sands.
+
+Elsie stood clasping and unclasping her little slender hands. The
+waters,--they could wash away that blow, the marks of that blow, wash
+away those words threatening death from one who had killed something in
+her heart. She realized that she was not afraid, facing the life to come.
+
+She was afraid only to go on living in the same world with one who had
+taken her girlhood and her womanhood, afraid only of this frightful fever
+in her veins, of this poison that was consuming her.
+
+Out yonder were the cool deeps of death--of death? What then? Far across
+the waves she saw a light.
+
+It was as if her spirit went to meet the light, went in quest of the
+meaning of such a beacon light across black waters.
+
+The light seemed to grow bigger and bigger as she gazed. By flinging her
+frail body into the dreadful surges could one reach peace and safety?
+
+Faintly her spirit heard the answer of the pursuing hound of heaven,
+faintly she heard the call of eternity and of the Eternal Love.
+
+The great black billows called to her. Elsie wondered what all the poor
+girls the waves toss up along the shores say to their Maker. She seemed
+to feel with them as she stood there, how the waves seize the bodies of
+the lost,--how the undertow takes them. Elsie put her hands to her face.
+
+"Why am I here alone in the night?" she heard herself asking. Her voice
+sounded strangely familiar, yet unfamiliar as if some one were speaking
+to her. Then she knew that the voice was her own soul in the silence.
+
+"Mother will forgive me, mother wants me back, mother will help me get
+well--if there is any health in me. Mother knows that it wasn't all my
+fault--" her thought defended her against that voice.
+
+"Why am I here alone in the night?" the question was repeated.
+
+"I will go home. I will begin again. Men begin again. Oh!..." A sob came
+from her lips.... "No, no, no!"
+
+She felt with every nerve of her quivering being that in the slow upward
+climb of sex towards true love and true parenthood woman's battle is
+man's,--felt that God and Nature are now demanding not less of men.
+
+The suffering girl could not put her certainty into words, but in her
+body and in her soul she knew--she knew.
+
+Suddenly from the opened window of the nearest home she heard above the
+wind the cry of a baby, the loud, sweet, prolonged, fiercely-demanding
+cry of a hungry little baby.
+
+A wistful smile twisted her lips as she listened.
+
+Suddenly as the baby's cry was stopped she put her hands to her bosom and
+a strange lovely light shone on her face.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XXX
+
+                          AT THE WEDDING FEAST
+
+
+Brightly shone the sunshine on the fields and woods surrounding Millville
+and on the little house where Mrs. Welcome was busy putting the last
+touches to the order and sweetness of home.
+
+Patience and her husband were coming on the noon train.
+
+Later in the day a few of their friends had promised to come to the
+supper for which her mother had been making loaves of delicious cake.
+
+"It is strange, strange that my child should be the wife of John Boland's
+son," she mused. "I wonder what my poor man would say. Would he feel less
+bitter if he could know that Boland sent me all that money, with that
+letter 'as justice to Tom Welcome's widow?' Patience and Harry are so
+happy now it makes me feel like wanting to forget the past. If only I
+could know where my baby girl is. But I just must go on trusting. Somehow
+I feel hopeful. Patience and Harry want me to be brave. Harry's
+father--he must find it hard to be brave too. He must be lonesome,
+estranged from his son, no one to comfort him. Perhaps he sent me that
+money really as a sign to Harry that he wants to be friends again. I
+won't say anything to Harry about it just yet, but maybe some of these
+days...." The direct train of her thought was interrupted by the sound of
+a bird singing on the bough of a tree close by the opened window.
+
+She stepped out into the side porch and looked about her with a glance of
+pleasure in the neatness and charm of the little place. House and fence
+had been painted and mended, put in tidy order. A new gate and a cement
+sidewalk in front running down to the corner of the street spoke for the
+industry of Harvey Spencer who had worked like a son for her in his spare
+hours.
+
+The song of the bird in the elm bough had dropped to a happy twittering.
+The fragrance of late garden blossoms filled the air. At the end of the
+deep yard, beyond the vegetable garden and close to the back gate Harvey
+had built a pretty summer house and over it a madeira vine hung its
+abundant quick growing wreaths of green.
+
+Mrs. Welcome in her light summer dress, her gray hair moved a trifle by
+the soft warm breeze, walked slowly down the garden path and sat down for
+a few moments of rest in this quiet spot. A sudden sadness came upon her
+face as almost always these months since her home coming when she rested
+from her working.
+
+But she rose resolutely and banished the thought.
+
+"Today is my oldest daughter's day. I must think of nobody but Patience
+and make her coming home with her husband as glad as can be."
+
+She spoke aloud, to make her resolution stronger and walked back towards
+the house, gathering nasturtiums and asparagus as she went, to decorate
+the fresh and pretty parlor, with its new white muslin curtains and wall
+paper and the piano which Harry Boland had sent.
+
+"It's perfectly lovely, mother," Patience was saying to her in this room
+within the hour, Patience whom everybody in Millville loved, standing
+radiant and happy beside her equally radiant bridegroom. "How did you
+ever get those flowers to trail over that picture as if they just grew
+there?"
+
+"You're a great success as a decorator, and we can't begin to thank you
+enough," said Harry Boland. "I think Patience and I are in great luck
+that we can make our home with you. It's all settled that I'm to have
+that office opposite the court-house, going to buy and sell real estate
+and work up a regular business."
+
+"Yes, and mother, Harry finds that a whole lot of these cottages the mill
+people live in are really his own, from his mother's estate directly to
+him. He's going to put them all in decent order."
+
+"Do you remember Michael Grogan? He is going to help us do things in
+Millville. He has promised to build us a club house and dance hall, a
+social center for the mill young people if you and Patience will help run
+it."
+
+"That's fine. Young folks need their fun," responded Mrs. Welcome
+heartily. "Come along, Patey dear, and see the cakes mother has been
+baking for you and Harry."
+
+Mary Randall and Michael Grogan, Harvey Spencer and his sister and
+brother-in-law were the five guests who assembled in the late afternoon
+to honor the home-coming of Mr. and Mrs. Harry Boland.
+
+Michael Grogan came first, arriving in a carriage of the hack type from
+the station. He brought a huge bouquet of roses for the bride and a case
+of grape-juice for the cheer of the festivity.
+
+At supper he proposed the health of the young pair.
+
+"May they always live happy ever after," said Grogan, standing up, glass
+in hand. "May they never have any troubles that they can't nip in the
+bud. As their principles demand of 'em to drink this stuff as the pure
+juice of the grape, may it be blessed to 'em forever and to their
+descendants."
+
+Every body laughed and drank. Harry Boland toasted him in return:
+
+"Here's the health of our very good friend, Mr. Michael Grogan. May all
+his mornings be golden and all his sunsets clear."
+
+"Thanks for the sunrises in particular," said Grogan. "Now ladies and
+gentlemen I wish to toast the good health of another young lady who is
+with us today, one who has made me a great deal of trouble and scared me
+blue with blue envelopes. May she soon find a bridegroom for herself, one
+of them brave lads who can talk right back to her as I never could when
+she tackled this old man!" He lifted his grape-juice with a great
+flourish. "Here's to herself, Miss Mary Randall!"
+
+Miss Randall blushed and nodded her thanks.
+
+"Speech, speech," demanded Grogan.
+
+"Thank you, thank you but I just can't, not here, not now," she said and
+quiet fell upon them.
+
+The thoughts of all were with the young girl who had disappeared, for
+whom all had worked, suffered, prayed.
+
+"I do want to say," Miss Randall, broke the silence, "that you all must
+know how glad I am that Mr. and Mrs. Harry Boland are to have a useful
+and happy life together and that I...." She stopped suddenly, looking out
+the opened door that led towards the garden, her whole expression
+changing, her lips parting, her breath coming quickly.
+
+"What did you see out there?" asked Harvey Spencer, with the sharp
+intentness which he had learned from his maturing city experience.
+
+"Now constable, don't get excited," chaffed Grogan, to whose aid Harvey's
+quick rise to prominence and office was in part due. "We don't want to be
+catching any burglars this happy day."
+
+"What is it?" asked Patience Boland, rising.
+
+"I--I don't know, to be really certain." Mary looked at Mrs. Welcome.
+"Somebody came in at the back gate and went into the summer-house."
+
+Mrs. Welcome leaned heavily on the table.
+
+Harvey ran to the window. Grogan looked over his shoulder.
+
+"Oh, Miss Randall, please go out and see." Patience's arms were already
+about her mother. "Mumsey, mumsey, can it be?"
+
+Mary went out into the porch and down the garden path.
+
+It was Elsie Welcome who came out of the summer-house and slowly along
+between the flower borders. She was shockingly emaciated. She stopped and
+put her suit case down on the ground; its weight seemed too great for her
+spent strength.
+
+Mary ran to her.
+
+Elsie looked at her with sorrowful dark eyes.
+
+"I am afraid to go in," she said.
+
+"I hear people in there talking and laughing."
+
+"They are all friends of yours."
+
+"Is my mother--will my mother...?"
+
+"Child, your mother's heart is breaking for the sight of you."
+
+Elsie ran forward to the doorway of the familiar room. A step forward.
+Mother and daughter stood in a tender embrace.
+
+The mother's face was radiant with great warmth of love. Patience rushed
+to her sister and clasped her close.
+
+Michael Grogan had led a tiptoe retreat of the visitors leaving mother
+and daughters alone, but Patience called them back.
+
+Elsie, smiling wanly, slipped like a little wraith across and into a
+chair beside her mother, and felt that dear hand clasping hers.
+
+"It's so good to be here with you," she whispered, looking vaguely about
+at the others, then a dreadful fit of coughing seized her and she sank
+exhausted in her mother's arms.
+
+Harvey helped carry her into the little room off the parlor.
+
+"You dear little thing, all you need is lots of fresh eggs and your ma's
+nursing to set you up again," he said to her.
+
+"Yes, Harvey, she is feeling very ill now, but we will all help her get
+well," said Patience, as they went out of the room together, leaving
+Elsie to rest in her mother's care.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXXI
+
+                         WITH THE ROSES OF LOVE
+
+
+Mrs. Welcome came into the little bedroom very quietly one afternoon
+about a week later, in her hands a large glass bowl overflowing with
+roses.
+
+She put it down on the table beside the bed and stood looking wistfully
+at the small dark head on the pillow.
+
+Elsie felt her there, opened her eyes and smiled as she saw the flowers.
+A deeper color burned for a moment in her cheeks.
+
+"Poor Harvey," she said. "Isn't he a dear, mamma?"
+
+"He always thought the world and all of you," Mrs. Welcome sighed.
+
+"I always liked him, but I never did love him, you know. I just let him
+come to see me because he wanted to, and all the girls had company."
+
+"You might have loved him dearie if--if--"
+
+"If I hadn't gone away, you mean, but I did go away." Elsie coughed
+violently.
+
+"There, there, sweet, don't." Her mother helped her to sit up and held
+her in her arms.
+
+"Harvey comes every day to ask how you are," said Mrs. Welcome when she
+was better. "He wants to see you when you feel able."
+
+Elsie remained silent.
+
+Out in the parlor they could hear Patience moving about, putting things
+in order, singing as she worked one of the songs she and Elsie used to
+sing when they were little girls.
+
+"Young Mrs. Boland is some singer," said Elsie with a flash of her old
+fun. "Isn't it nice for our Patey to be so happy?"
+
+"She and I want you to be happy too, and you will when you get well, my
+precious. You will laugh and sing as you used to."
+
+"Mamma, I see through you," said Elsie. "I bet Harvey is here now. He
+brought these roses himself. He coaxed you to coax me to see him. All
+right. Shake up my pillows. Get Patey's pink boudoir cap and put your
+pink shawl around me and bring him in."
+
+Her pallor was more marked by the bright cap and shawl and the flame in
+her cheeks seemed scarlet.
+
+"Hello, Harvey," she greeted him almost in her old bright voice. "Thank
+you for the roses. They're--"
+
+A violent coughing made it impossible for Elsie to finish speaking.
+
+He came and stood beside her and took her hot little outstretched hand.
+
+"You're so pretty and I'm so glad you let me come in," he said gently.
+
+"Oh, Harvey, I'm the one that's glad," said Elsie, trying to speak
+brightly. She laid back on the pillow. The effort to talk exhausted her.
+
+Harvey knelt down beside the bed so that his face was almost on a level
+with hers.
+
+"I don't want you to get tired, dear," he said. "I just want you to rest
+and get well. Rest now!" He put his hand tenderly on her hot forehead.
+
+"How cool your hand feels," she murmured. "Put it over my eyes. They burn
+so."
+
+He obeyed her and they remained quiet for many minutes; through their
+hearts went many thoughts.
+
+She moved slightly. He understood, removed his hand and waited.
+
+When Elsie opened her eyes she looked directly into his kind eyes filled
+with grief and love.
+
+"You mustn't be so sorry for me, Harvey," she whispered.
+
+"You will be better soon, and then--remember, little dear, I still have
+the wedding ring."
+
+Elsie sighed. "Poor old Harvey! There never was anybody so good as you
+are to me."
+
+"I love you."
+
+She patted his cheek. "It's so good of you to go on caring about me."
+
+"I couldn't stop if I wanted to,--and I don't want to."
+
+She put her thin arm about his neck. "Will you do something for me?"
+
+"Anything on earth!"
+
+A wan little funny gleam lighted her pretty dark eyes.
+
+"This is on earth, all right. I'll tell you about it next time you
+come...." Suddenly Elsie sat up and grasped him. "There will be a next
+time, won't there, Harvey?" she asked him in a wild tone, a wave of
+terror seeming to go over her.
+
+He held her gently.
+
+"Don't be frightened, dear. Of course there is going to be a next time
+... all the rest of our lives. You didn't think even for a minute that I
+would go back on you, did you, Elsie?"
+
+She smiled and released herself, then smiled again. "No, no, I didn't
+mean that. Take a chair, Harvey, and tell me about the weather."
+
+Harvey took the chair and once more possessed himself of her hand.
+
+She smiled sweetly.
+
+"Now let me ask you a favor. Let's name the day, Elsie," he said.
+"Promise to marry me,--as soon as you get well."
+
+"When--I--get--well," Elsie looked wonderingly at him. She saw his
+passionate earnestness, his need of hope. Hope! It was fast fainting in
+her heart. "Yes, Harvey,--when I get well."
+
+He bent over her and with deep tenderness kissed her.
+
+Violent coughing seized her. It was the worst, the most prolonged Elsie
+had yet had. One spasm followed another, bringing her mother with
+remedies.
+
+Harvey moved frantically about; he was the first to suggest the doctor
+and ran out to bring one. He did not realize, he could not know what had
+really happened.
+
+When he returned Elsie had fallen asleep and the physician advised them
+not to waken her, promising to call early in the morning. The faithful
+Harvey went with him. He had her answer, "when I get well," she said.
+
+Elsie remained until nearly day-break in a very deep sleep. The fever
+left her during this long repose. Her sister, who was watching beside
+her, thought she was better because her forehead grew damp and cool.
+
+With the first early light of morning Elsie opened her eyes.
+
+Patience pushed back the pretty tendrils of her dark hair. "It's sister
+watching with you, dear," she said.
+
+"Where's mother?" murmured Elsie in a voice so weak that it frightened
+Patience.
+
+"Mother! mother! Please come!" she called.
+
+"She's coming," answered Patience as Mrs. Welcome came hurrying to the
+bedside.
+
+She understood without a word, lifting Elsie in her arms, the frail
+little worn body against her heart. Tears streamed down her face; sobs
+shook her body.
+
+Patience hurried weeping to summon Harry.
+
+"Don't cry, Mother," moaned Elsie. "I am so glad I am home with you."
+
+"Yes, Elsie, yes."
+
+"I would have come long ago, but I didn't dare--so many girls never dare
+go home. Some of their mothers don't want them, but you--. Mother--"
+
+"Yes my darling, yes!"
+
+"I was afraid, so afraid. I went--and--looked--at the--lake." She seemed
+to her mother to wander a bit.
+
+Her breathing became difficult. No more words came. A few quick
+fluttering breaths--Elsie was gone.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXXII
+
+                      AT MARY RANDALL'S SUMMER HOME
+
+
+Lake Geneva season was at its close. Most of the lake dwellers had closed
+their houses and returned to town. For those who remained late autumn had
+her glories. Woods and groves were gay in foliage. Orchards bowed their
+heads beneath their loads of ripened fruit. In shorn fields the birds,
+preparing for southern migration, sang of a year crowned with plenty.
+
+Vines hung deep about the broad veranda of the villa where Mary Randall
+was resting from her labors in the company of her uncle and aunt. She sat
+alone in a corner of the veranda one sunny day, waiting for the arrival
+of the journalist Ambrose, one of her most efficient aids.
+
+Anna, her faithful maid came with an armful of flowers and began
+arranging them on the table.
+
+"You love those old-fashioned flowers even more than I do, I believe,
+Anna," said Miss Randall.
+
+"I do love them. They seem like the blossom of my vacation," said Anna.
+
+"That's a pretty way to put it. Your vacation is to be a good long one.
+You have certainly earned it. You're as worn as I am, after our battle. I
+never should have got through it without you."
+
+"Thank you, Miss Mary. Here comes the flower of all your workers,--Mr.
+Ambrose," said the girl, and withdrew.
+
+"Good news," said the journalist cheerfully, coming to greet his friend,
+and noting with a sudden swift pleasure that a faint blush came to her
+cheeks and a new light to her eyes as she welcomed him. "Good news! As I
+was coming away the newspapers were out with the extra. The city council
+held a special meeting during the afternoon. They have abolished the
+segregated district. The city has formally adopted the policy of
+suppressing instead of circumscribing vice."
+
+"That is the beginning of the end," said Miss Randall. "If our campaign
+has won that we have won all I hoped for."
+
+"Yet many people believe that we failed."
+
+"Even if we had failed we should have made progress. Every movement of
+this kind leaves its mark on the public conscience. It makes work easier
+for other crusaders."
+
+"Yes," responded Ambrose, "because it brings out the facts. Facts are
+lasting. They cannot die."
+
+"Progress comes through inculcation of these facts, by means of
+education. Schools and churches--and parents--must concentrate on the
+moral improvement of the rising generation, or we wrestle ineffectively."
+
+"The kind of vice you have been specially fighting will be extinct within
+the next ten years," said Ambrose. "I don't mean that we shall have
+suppressed vice. That is a task for centuries. But our people in the
+United States will not stand for this trade in girls."
+
+"I'd like to preach to men who have daughters to protect to take their
+wives and go out and see some of the shady places of the city for
+themselves. It would make any mother far more careful in future about the
+companions of their daughters."
+
+"Yes, to whisper about 'wild oats' and to see a young man who wants to
+marry one's daughter in a dive are two very different things."
+
+"We are going to have vice," said Miss Randall, "as long as economic
+conditions set the stage for it. A young girl housed in a poor tenement,
+ill-lighted, poorly heated, badly ventilated, fed and clothed
+insufficiently--see to it that she hears foul language, and witnesses
+drunkenness and quarrelling--then you have the condition that produces
+the delinquent city girl."
+
+"We are attacking all those evils," said Ambrose. "The public conscience
+is rising against them. I predict the time when it will be regarded as
+great a disgrace for a city to possess a 'back of the yards,' a ghetto or
+a slum tenement district as it is now to have a district organized for
+the exploitation of women. It's coming. You and I shall see it."
+
+Mary Randall had risen, deeply moved while he spoke. She leaned against
+the trellis and gazed far across the silver-shot lake at the sun sinking,
+a great ball of crimson fire among the dark trees.
+
+"God speed the day!" she said.
+
+Beyond the veranda in a darkened drawing-room Mary Randall's aunt had
+been resting and had heard this conversation. She rose and went softly
+away and out to a pergola where she found her husband smoking a cigar.
+
+"Lucius," she said. "That young newspaper man who has been out here to
+see Mary is here again. They are talking in the veranda, settling all the
+problems of Chicago!"
+
+Lucius Randall blew a cloud of smoke. "Well, my dear, that is the only
+way this old world gets ahead, for each generation to tackle its problems
+anew."
+
+"I believe that young man likes Mary."
+
+"Many young men do."
+
+"But--I really believe Mary likes him. She talks to him with a sweet note
+in her voice, even when they are discussing the most impossible
+subjects."
+
+"I shouldn't wonder," said Lucius Randall with much serenity.
+
+
+
+
+                                AFTERWORD
+
+
+In our modern crusade against that most ancient evil known as the white
+slave traffic we have made at least one serious advance. All over the
+world that conspiracy of silence which has fettered thought and prevented
+open action in the fight is ended.
+
+Nowadays, as Havelock Ellis, author of the famous "Psychology of Sex,"
+says in the _Metropolitan_ discussion of this subject, "churches,
+societies, journalist, legislators, have all joined the ranks of the
+agitators. Not only has there been no voice on the opposite side, which
+was scarcely to be expected--for there has never been any anxiety to cry
+aloud in defense of 'white slavery' from the housetops--but there has
+been a new and noteworthy conquest over indifference and over that sacred
+silence which was supposed to encompass all sexual topics with suitable
+darkness. The banishment of that silence in the cause of social hygiene
+is, indeed, not the least significant feature of this agitation. * * *
+
+"By insuring that our workers, and especially our women workers, are
+decently paid, so that they can live comfortably on their wages, we shall
+not, indeed, have abolished prostitution, which is more than an economic
+phenomenon, but we shall more effectually check the white slave trader
+than by the most Draconic legislation the most imaginative vice crusader
+ever devised. And when we insure that these same workers have ample time
+and opportunity for free and joyous recreation we shall have done more to
+kill the fascination of the white slave traffic than by endless police
+regulations for the moral supervision of the young.
+
+"No doubt the element of human nature in the manifestations we are
+concerned with will still be at work, an obscure instinct often acting
+differently in each sex, but tending to drive both into the same risks.
+Here we need even more fundamental social changes. It is sheer
+foolishness to suppose that when we raise our little dams in the path of
+a great stream of human impulse that stream will forthwith flow calmly
+back to its source. We must make our new channels concurrently with our
+dams. We can at least begin today a task of education which must slowly
+though surely undermine the white slave trader's stronghold. Such an
+education needs to be not merely instruction in the facts of sex and wise
+guidance concerning all the dangers and risks of the sexual life; it must
+also involve a training of the will, a development of the sense of
+responsibility, such as can never be secured by shutting our young people
+up in a hothouse, sheltered from every fortifying breath of the outside
+world."
+
+It was in Illinois that Abraham Lincoln--a Southerner, Kentucky
+born--threw down the gage in his famous Bloomington speech in the matter
+of buying and selling human beings as slaves. It is in Illinois--in spite
+of much disgrace which the State's fair name has had forced upon it--that
+men and women have enlisted for life to fight in the battle against
+buying and selling white girls, to fight against that special dealing in
+"live stock" actually known to have gone on for years, which is Chicago's
+special shame as a distributing center.
+
+There is eternal shouting and exhorting against the immorality and vice
+of the levee, but I wonder if it isn't society's hue and cry to divert
+attention from viciousness in what are called "the best circles," a
+condition that is a hundred times more important.
+
+Will the churches be in some measure convinced that they must organize
+for a combined effort to save the children of today--that souls are more
+important than sectarianism, and that Sunday is not the only day in the
+week?
+
+If every unmarried woman with money and time at her disposal were to
+devote part of her leisure to the care of one child there would be far
+less misery in the slums and many a little sister would be saved.
+
+If there is to be any effective reform we must arouse society from its
+lethargic viewpoint too generally accepted that the devil is never so
+black as he is painted.
+
+As long as mothers do not know who the young men are with whom their
+daughters spend evenings away from home so long will there be the troop
+of Little Lost Sisters tripping, stumbling down the trail that leads
+hellward.
+
+Let us make the war against commercialized vice a bigger thing than a
+presidential campaign, bigger than any war, bigger than anything that was
+ever known in a woman's movement before in the world!
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Lost Sister, by Virginia Brooks
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+"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+<head>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+<title>
+The Project Gutenberg eBook of Little Lost Sister, by Virginia Brooks.
+</title>
+
+<style type="text/css">
+/*<![CDATA[  XML blockout */
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+    .pagenum          {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; color: silver; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;}
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+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Lost Sister, by Virginia Brooks
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Little Lost Sister
+
+Author: Virginia Brooks
+
+Release Date: June 12, 2008 [EBook #25772]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE LOST SISTER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<p style=' font-size:2em; margin-top:0.5em; margin-bottom:0.5em;'>Little Lost Sister</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='blockquot'>
+<p>&#8220;It isn&#8217;t always the costume of women of
+fashion ... or the blazing resplendent show-window
+that tempts Little Lost Sisters.
+It is more often just the human need for love
+and shelter ... the lack of a friendly handclasp
+that shall lighten tomorrow&#8217;s labor ... the sympathy
+and understanding that breeds hope&#8221;
+</p>
+</div>
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<p style=' font-size:2em; margin-top:1em; font-variant:small-caps;'>Little Lost</p>
+<p style=' font-size:2em; margin-bottom:.5em; font-variant:small-caps;'>Sister</p>
+<div style='margin-top:1em'></div>
+<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>BY</p>
+<div style='margin-top:1em'></div>
+<p style=' font-size:1.4em; font-variant:small-caps;'>Virginia Brooks</p>
+<div style='margin-top:1em'></div>
+<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>Author of</p>
+<p style=' font-size:0.8em; margin-bottom:2em;'>&#8220;MY BATTLES WITH VICE&#8221;</p>
+<div style='margin-top:1em'></div>
+<p style=' font-size:1em;'>NEW YORK</p>
+<p style=' font-size:1em; margin-bottom:2em;'>THE MACAULAY COMPANY</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='ce' style=' font-size:0.8em;'>
+<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Copyright</span>, 1914,</p>
+<div style='margin-top:1em'></div>
+<p>By</p>
+<p>F. A. P. GAZZOLO AND R. E. RICKSEN,</p>
+<div style='margin-top:1em'></div>
+<p><i>All Rights Reserved</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='ce' style=' font-size:1.2em;'>
+<p>CONTENTS</p>
+</div>
+
+<table border='0' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'>
+<tr>
+  <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small;'>CHAPTER</span></td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small;'>PAGE</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Prologue</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#PROLOGUE'>13</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>I&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>At the Button Mill</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#I_AT_THE_BUTTON_MILL'>17</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>II&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Seeing Millville</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#II_SEEING_MILLVILLE'>27</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>III&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Enter a Detective</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#III_ENTER_A_DETECTIVE'>37</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>IV&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Harvey Meets &#8220;A Dealer in Cattle&#8221;</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_HARVEY_MEETS__A_DEALER_IN_CATTLE'>49</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>V&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Serpent Whispers and a Woman Listens</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#V_A_SERPENT_WHISPERS_AND_A_WOMAN_LISTENS'>57</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>VI&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Romance Dawns&mdash;and a Tragedy</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VI_A_ROMANCE_DAWNS_AND_A_TRAGEDY'>67</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>VII&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Harry Boland Hears from His Father</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VII_HARRY_BOLAND_HEARS_FROM_HIS_FATHER'>77</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>VIII&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Death of Tom Welcome</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VIII_THE_DEATH_OF_TOM_WELCOME'>85</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>IX&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>In Which Some of Chicago&#8217;s Best People<br />Essay a Task Too Big for Them</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IX_IN_WHICH_SOME_OF_CHICAGO_S_BEST_PEOPLE_ESSAY_A_TASK_TOO_BIG_FOR_THEM'>95</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>X&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Adventures of a Newspaper Story</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#X_THE_ADVENTURES_OF_A_NEWSPAPER_STORY'>115</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>XI&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Bomb for Mr. Grogan</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XI_A_BOMB_FOR_MR_GROGAN'>133</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>XII&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Bad News from Millville</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XII_BAD_NEWS_FROM_MILLVILLE'>145</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>XIII&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Reader Meets Another Old Acquaintance</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIII_THE_READER_MEETS_ANOTHER_OLD_ACQUAINTANCE'>155</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>XIV&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>In Which the Wolf is Bitten by the Lamb</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIV_IN_WHICH_THE_WOLF_IS_BITTEN_BY_THE_LAMB'>165</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>XV&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Search Begins for the Lost Sister</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XV_THE_SEARCH_BEGINS_FOR_THE_LOST_SISTER'>173</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>XVI&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>John Boland Meets Mary Randall</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVI_JOHN_BOLAND_MEETS_MARY_RANDALL'>185</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>XVII&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Cafe Sinister</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVII_THE_CAFE_SINISTER'>203</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>XVIII&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Lost in the Levee</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVIII_LOST_IN_THE_LEVEE'>219</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>XIX&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Mary Randall Goes to Live in a Wolf&#8217;s Den</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIX_MARY_RANDALL_GOES_TO_LIVE_IN_A_WOLF_S_DEN'>229</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>XX&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Druce Signs a Significant Document</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XX_DRUCE_SIGNS_A_SIGNIFICANT_DOCUMENT'>241</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>XXI&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Druce Proves a True Prophet</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXI_DRUCE_PROVES_A_TRUE_PROPHET'>253</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>XXII&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>&#8220;The Mills of the Gods&#8221;</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXII__THE_MILLS_OF_THE_GODS'>261</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>XXIII&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>After the Tragedy</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXIII_AFTER_THE_TRAGEDY'>271</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>XXIV&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>&#8220;The Highway of the Upright&#8221;</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXIV__THE_HIGHWAY_OF_THE_UPRIGHT'>277</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>XXV&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Interests Versus Mary Randall</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXV_THE_INTERESTS_VERSUS_MARY_RANDALL'>289</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>XXVI&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Out on Bail</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXVI_OUT_ON_BAIL'>297</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>XXVII&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Harvey Spencer Takes up the Trail</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXVII_HARVEY_SPENCER_TAKES_UP_THE_TRAIL'>305</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>XXVIII&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Forces That Conquer</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXVIII_THE_FORCES_THAT_CONQUER'>317</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>XXIX&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Call of Eternity</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXIX_THE_CALL_OF_ETERNITY'>329</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>XXX&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>At the Wedding Feast</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXX_AT_THE_WEDDING_FEAST'>335</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>XXXI&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>With the Roses of Love</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXXI_WITH_THE_ROSES_OF_LOVE'>345</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>XXXII&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>At Mary Randall&#8217;s Summer Home</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXXII_AT_MARY_RANDALL_S_SUMMER_HOME'>353</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='right'>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Afterward</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#AFTERWARD'>359</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<hr class='silver' />
+
+<div class='ce' style=' font-size:1.4em;'>
+<p>LITTLE LOST SISTER</p>
+</div>
+
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 0em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='PROLOGUE' id='PROLOGUE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span>
+<h3>PROLOGUE</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>They came up suddenly over a bit of
+rising ground, the mill-owner and his
+friend the writer and student of modern
+industries, and stood in full view of the factory.
+The air was sweet with scent of apple-blossoms.
+A song sparrow trilled in the
+poplar tree.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you think of our factory?&#8221; asked
+the man of business and of success, turning his
+keen, aggressive face towards his companion.
+</p>
+<p>The other, the dreamer, waited for moments
+without speaking, carefully weighing the
+word, then he answered,
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Horrible.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;My dear fellow!&#8221; The owner&#8217;s voice
+showed that he was really grieved. &#8220;Why
+horrible?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Your mill is a crime against Nature. Look
+how it violates that landscape. Look how it
+stands there gaunt and tawdry against these
+fresh green meadows edged round with billowy
+white clouds that herald summer. And
+you are proud of it. Could you not have found
+some arid waste for this factory? Can&#8217;t you
+see how Nature cries out against this outrage?
+Can&#8217;t you see that she has dedicated this
+country to seed-time and harvest,&mdash;these
+verdant fields, deep woods and brooding
+streams?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The Millville people wanted our factory.
+They paid us a subsidy to bring it here.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Blind, too!&#8221; The dreamer looked backward
+at the town. &#8220;They tell me that the
+founders there called their village Farmington.
+Have you ever reflected what a change
+you are working in the lives of these people
+by substituting industrialism for agriculture?
+Have you thought of the moral transformations
+such a substitution must work among
+them?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;We are not responsible for their morals,&#8221;
+the mill-owner answered, impatiently. &#8220;We
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span>
+have spared nothing to make our factory up
+to date. The mill meets all the demands of
+modern hygiene and sanitation. We do that
+for them.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>His friend was silent for a time.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your employes here are chiefly women,
+very young women,&#8221; he said at last.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, we have two hundred girls,&#8221; replied
+the mill-owner.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is your highest wage for a girl?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eight dollars a week.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Again the younger man was silent. Then
+he took his friend&#8217;s arm within his own.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;These girls are the mothers of tomorrow.
+To an extent the destinies of our race depend
+upon them. Your factory places upon you
+tremendous responsibilities.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;We are growing to realize our responsibilities
+more and more,&#8221; said the man of business
+and of success gravely. &#8220;Perhaps we do
+not realize them keenly enough. It is the
+fault of the times.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, it is the fault of the times. Life,
+honor, virtue itself trampled down in the rush
+for the dollar.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I believe that a change is coming, though
+slowly. I believe that the day will come when
+we owners of mills will regard it as a disgraceful
+thing for our corporations to declare a
+dividend while notoriously underpaying our
+employes.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, and perhaps the day is coming, too,
+when the employer who maintains conditions
+in his mills that subtly undermine the virtue
+of his women workers will be regarded as a
+public enemy.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No doubt, but that time is a long way
+ahead!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;We must look to the future,&#8221; said his
+friend. &#8220;We must work for the future, too!&#8221;
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='I_AT_THE_BUTTON_MILL' id='I_AT_THE_BUTTON_MILL'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER I</h2>
+<h3>AT THE BUTTON MILL</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Elsie Welcome was the one girl in
+the big machine room of the Millville
+button factory who did not rise when the bell
+sounded for the short afternoon recess. She
+swung on her revolving stool away from her
+machine and looked eagerly, thirstingly towards
+the windows where the other girls were
+crowding for breath of the fresh June air, but
+she did not stir to follow them. A resolution
+stronger than her own keen need of the recreation
+moments was singling out this young girl
+from among her two hundred companions,
+laughing and talking together.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I will speak to Mr. Kemble now&mdash;now,&#8221;
+she promised herself, watching for the foreman
+to enter the machine room, according to
+his daily custom at this hour. Elsie nerved
+herself to a task difficult to perform, even after
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span>
+her three years of work in the factory, even
+though she was one of the most skilful workers
+here.
+</p>
+<p>She drew up her charmingly modeled little
+figure tensely, and held her small head high,
+her pure, beautiful features aglow with delicate
+color, her slender, shapely hands clasping
+and unclasping each other.
+</p>
+<p>The foreman came into the room. Elsie
+rose from her place and went to meet him,
+pushing back the pretty tendrils of her hair.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Kemble,&#8221; she said, &#8220;I should like to
+speak to you a moment.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Hiram Kemble was a tall, thin young man,
+deeply conscious of his own importance and
+responsibilities. He had risen by assiduous
+devotion to the details of button making from
+office boy to his present exalted state. His
+mind had become a mere filing cabinet for
+information concerning the button business.
+</p>
+<p>He stood regarding the girl before him,
+feeling the attraction of her beauty and resenting
+it. He did not dislike her; he did not
+understand her, and it was his nature to distrust
+what he did not understand.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; he said, with professional brusqueness,
+&#8220;what is it?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wanted to ask you to&mdash;to&mdash;&#8221; Elsie hesitated,
+then went on with courage, &#8220;to raise my
+wages.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He looked at her in amazement, displeased.
+&#8220;How much are you getting now?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Only eight dollars a week.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Only!&#8221; Hiram Kemble was satirical.
+&#8220;That&#8217;s as much as the others are getting.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know it. But it&#8217;s not enough. Our
+expenses are heavy. My mother has begun
+to&mdash;to&mdash;&#8221; Elsie choked. &#8220;My mother is compelled
+to take in washing. She&#8217;s not strong
+enough for such heavy work.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your sister has a good job.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;She earns only nine dollars.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your father&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Tears sprang to Elsie&#8217;s eyes, but she would
+not let them fall. &#8220;He&#8217;s not earning anything.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know.&#8221; Kemble spoke accusingly. &#8220;He
+is drinking.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Elsie showed a flash of spirit: &#8220;That&#8217;s not
+my fault!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Just so. But you can&#8217;t hold the Millville
+Button Company responsible for your father&#8217;s
+misbehavior.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is there any chance for me to get more
+pay?&#8221; There was a note of despair in her
+question.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not the least chance in the world. You
+are getting our maximum wage for women. I
+couldn&#8217;t raise your pay if I wanted to without
+being specially authorized to do so by our
+board of directors.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;And I can never earn&mdash;never get any
+more here?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The minute hand of the electric clock pushed
+forward. Again a bell sounded. Two hundred
+American girls who had had a few
+moments&#8217; respite came trooping wearily back
+to their places at the machines.
+</p>
+<p>At the clang of the bell Kemble walked up
+the room. Elsie went back to her place drooping;
+she wore a beaten air as if he had struck
+her visibly.
+</p>
+<p>The girls on either hand spoke to her as
+they slipped into their places, but she did not
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span>
+hear them. Hours of swift work followed.
+The machines whirred and the deft hands of
+the girls flew. These button workers had
+nearly all been recruited from the district
+around Millville. With rare exceptions they
+were descendants of the hardy Americans
+who had founded the town while it was still
+called Farmington. The founders had passed
+away. The outside world had pressed around
+the village until its people longed to play a
+more active role in the world. It had seemed
+a great day when the button factory came, and
+the town name was changed to Millville.
+</p>
+<p>Now these daughters of the strong elder
+race were factory workers. The world had
+been made better by an output of thousands of
+shiny new buttons when at last the six o&#8217;clock
+whistle blew on this bright June day.
+</p>
+<p>Elsie Welcome got up from her machine
+and picked up her hat listlessly. She walked
+to a window and looked out. Suddenly animation
+came into her face. A young man waved
+a handkerchief from an automobile which
+spun by on the gray turnpike below the mill.
+Elsie waved her handkerchief in return.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span></p>
+<p>Kemble, watching the girl from across the
+room, saw the episode. He hurried across to
+her, with the air of pouncing on a victim.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll have none of that here, Miss Welcome,&#8221;
+he said. &#8220;If you have to flirt, don&#8217;t
+flirt on the company&#8217;s premises.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>She turned upon him indignantly. &#8220;I am
+not flirting! That gentleman is a friend of
+mine.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Kemble sneered. &#8220;Oh, he is a friend, is he?
+Where does a factory girl like you meet men
+who ride in automobiles?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Elsie flushed scarlet; she bit her quivering
+lips.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ashamed to tell where you met him, are
+you?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I mean I&#8217;m responsible to my employers
+for the character of the girls I employ here.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Elsie looked her contempt of him. She
+laughed a little low scornful laugh which made
+Kemble thoroughly angry.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Look here, my girl,&#8221; he said. &#8220;You don&#8217;t
+know when you&#8217;re well off. You are too independent.&#8221;
+His tone of anger roused her temper,
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span>
+but she held herself in leash and answered
+with cold politeness:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Kemble, when I feel myself getting
+independent, the first thing I shall do will be
+to get away from the Millville button factory.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Kemble was ready to retreat now. The
+interview was getting beyond his expectation.
+Elsie was one of the company&#8217;s fastest
+workers. He could not afford to have her
+throw up her place. He did not want to lose
+her.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, but you like the factory, Miss Welcome,&#8221;
+he said in a suddenly pacific tone.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Like&mdash;the&mdash;factory! I hate it,&#8221; returned
+the girl, all her pent-up wrongs finding expression.
+&#8220;I hate the mill and everything
+about it. Do you suppose any girl could like
+the prospect of being bottled up in this hole
+year after year for eight dollars a week?
+Why, some day, Mr. Kemble, I expect to pay
+eight dollars for a hat, for just one hat.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;So that&#8217;s it,&#8221; said Kemble, &#8220;fine feathers,
+eh? I know, you&#8217;re like a lot of other girls
+who have come and gone in this factory.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span>
+You&#8217;ve heard of Chicago&#8217;s bright lights and
+you want to singe your wings in them. Let
+me tell you something, my girl, girls in your
+position don&#8217;t get eight dollar hats without
+paying for them and if they haven&#8217;t got the
+money they give something else. They
+give&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Stop,&#8221; ordered the girl. &#8220;You shan&#8217;t say
+that to me. I don&#8217;t believe it. You can&#8217;t convince
+me that there isn&#8217;t something better in
+life for a girl like me than Millville and eight
+dollars a week.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I pity your ignorance,&#8221; said Kemble,
+loftily.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s not ignorance to want something better
+than this,&#8221; replied Elsie. &#8220;Why should
+you taunt me with ignorance, anyway? What
+do you know about the world? You&#8217;re just a
+foreman in a little country mill and because
+you are satisfied with a narrow little life like
+that you think everyone else ought to be.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The truth in this goaded Kemble into violation
+of rule number twelve for button factory
+foremen which exhorts such employes to be
+polite to women workers.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Why the devil don&#8217;t you go to Chicago and
+be done with it then?&#8221; he demanded. &#8220;You&#8217;re
+one of these people that has to learn by experience.&#8221;
+He sneered at her. &#8220;Perhaps you can
+get your friend in the auto to take you. Why
+don&#8217;t you try it?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Tears rushed to the girl&#8217;s eyes. She began
+fastening on her hat to conceal her emotion.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m going to Chicago,&#8221; she muttered,
+&#8220;just as soon as I am able. Nothing there can
+be much worse than being compelled to work
+in Millville under you. Good gracious,&#8221; she
+added maliciously, after giving him a thorough
+inspection, &#8220;it&#8217;s no use to stand here
+arguing with you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>With this taunt Miss Elsie gave her hat a
+final adjustment, then, leaving Mr. Hiram
+Kemble speechless with rage and injured dignity,
+she walked out of the factory door.
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='II_SEEING_MILLVILLE' id='II_SEEING_MILLVILLE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER II</h2>
+<h3>SEEING MILLVILLE</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>The distance from the Millville button
+factory to the corner of Main and Pine
+streets in Millville itself is, if you take the
+short cut through Nutting&#8217;s Grove, as all sensible
+Millvillians do, a five minutes&#8217; walk. If
+the reader, touring Millville in search of the
+beginnings of this story, will make that journey
+in his imagination he will find himself
+standing on the rough board walk in front of
+John Price&#8217;s general store.
+</p>
+<p>From her eminence on the top of one of
+Mr. John Price&#8217;s high stools Patience Welcome
+glanced up from the ledger over which
+she was toiling, put the blunt end of her pen
+into her mouth and looked out into the street
+drenched in sunshine. A half dozen farmers&#8217;
+horses, moored to the hitching rack in front of
+the store, threshed restlessly with their tails
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span>
+at enthusiastic banqueting flies, newborn into
+a world that seemed to be filled with juicy
+horses.
+</p>
+<p>The scene did not interest Patience. Her
+glance went on across the street where an overdressed
+young man, just alighted from an
+automobile, stood surveying his surroundings.
+His eyes met hers. He removed his hat with
+an elaborate bow. The girl, a little piqued and
+a little amused, reached over very quietly and
+drew down the window curtain. Then she
+resumed operations on the ledger with the
+sharp end of the pen.
+</p>
+<p>Patience Welcome, like her sister, was dark
+of hair and eyes. Her hair, too, had the quality
+of forming into tendrils about her cheeks
+which glowed with a happy, if not a robust,
+healthfulness. But there the resemblance
+ended. The two girls were widely different
+personalities. Elsie, the younger, was impetuous
+by nature, imaginative, and easily
+swept off her mental balance by her emotions.
+She was ambitious, too, and Millville did not
+please her. Patience, no less imaginative,
+perhaps, possessed a stronger hold upon herself.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span>
+She admired her daring sister, but she
+was sensible of the dangers of such daring and
+did not imitate her. She possessed the great
+gift of contentedness. It colored all her
+thoughts, created pleasant places for her in
+what, to Elsie, seemed a desolate life; it made
+Millville not only a bearable but even a happy
+place to live in. Millville understood Patience
+and loved her; Elsie, being less understandable,
+was less popular.
+</p>
+<p>It had been a busy day in John Price&#8217;s store
+and Patience was entering in her books items
+from a pile of bills on the desk before her. It
+was five minutes after her usual leaving time,
+but the girl accepted extra duty with a cheerfulness
+that was part of her nature.
+</p>
+<p>In the midst of her work there was a bustle
+at the back of the store. John Price, local
+merchant prince and owner of this establishment,
+had returned from the yard at the rear
+of the store where he had been superintending
+the storing of goods, arrived on the late afternoon
+train. He was a wiry little old man of
+sixty, abrupt, nervous, irritable and given to
+sharpness of speech which, he was profoundly
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span>
+convinced, hid from outside perception a heart
+given to unbusinesslike tenderness. He busied
+himself noisily about the shelves for a few
+minutes, then suddenly stuck his head through
+the door of the little office in which Patience
+was working.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What,&#8221; he said, &#8220;you here? Get out.
+Go home.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll be through in a few minutes,&#8221; rejoined
+Patience, without taking her eyes from her
+figures.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tush,&#8221; said Mr. Price. &#8220;What are you
+trying to do, give me a bad name with my
+trade? People will think I&#8217;m a slave driver.
+Get out.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;In just a minute,&#8221; smiled Patience.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go home, I say,&#8221; almost shouted Price.
+He took off his alpaca coat and hung it on a
+nail. Then he stepped up suddenly behind
+Patience, took the pen deliberately from her
+hand and pushed her off the stool.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Must I throw you out?&#8221; he demanded.
+&#8220;Must I? Must I, eh?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He pointed towards the door.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right, Mr. Price,&#8221; said Patience submissively,
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span>
+gathering up her bills and thrusting
+them into a drawer.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hurry,&#8221; said Price. &#8220;You&#8217;ll be late for
+your supper.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I won&#8217;t,&#8221; returned Patience, putting
+on her jacket and hat. &#8220;This is wash day at
+our house. Supper is always late on wash
+day.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wash day, eh? Then you ought to be
+home helping your mother.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Elsie will help mother,&#8221; replied Patience
+quietly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you sure about that?&#8221; demanded Mr.
+Price.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course, I&#8217;m sure, Mr. Price,&#8221; said
+Patience, hurt.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; said Mr. Price, &#8220;I&#8217;m not so sure.
+But don&#8217;t stand here arguing. I haven&#8217;t any
+time to argue with a snip of a girl like you.
+Get out. Go home!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Patience, still a little hurt by her employer&#8217;s
+expressed doubt about her sister, started for
+the front door. Looking out, she saw the
+overdressed young man with the automobile
+still standing across the street. He saw her,
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span>
+too, and waved his cigarette. Patience turned
+back into the store.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Girl,&#8221; demanded Mr. Price, his patience
+now seemingly exhausted, &#8220;where in the devil
+are you going?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Out the back way, if you please, Mr.
+Price.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Mr. Price got up deliberately from the stool
+which he had occupied as soon as Patience had
+vacated it and looked out of the front door.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The young whelp,&#8221; he said, apostrophizing
+the overdressed youth with the cigarette.
+Then to Patience: &#8220;Dodging him, eh? Now
+don&#8217;t blush, girl. I don&#8217;t blame him for looking
+at you. You&#8217;re worth looking at. But
+you show mighty good sense in keeping away
+from him.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, Mr. Price, I&mdash;&#8221; Patience stammered.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;O, that&#8217;s all right, dodge him, keep him
+guessing. One of those freshies from the city,
+eh? Well, there&#8217;s mighty little good in &#8217;em.
+Give your ma my best regards. Tell her she&#8217;s
+got a fine daughter. Good night.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Patience left the store by the rear door and
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span>
+started briskly for her home. She had gone
+but a block when she heard a wagon rumbling
+behind her and a voice called out:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Lo, there, Patience, late, ain&#8217;t you?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>It was Harvey Spencer, ambitious &#8220;all
+round&#8221; clerk, hostler, collector for Millville&#8217;s
+leading grocer. He drove a roan colt which
+went rather skittishly. There was an older
+man in the wagon with him. Harvey drew up
+the colt beside Patience with a vociferous
+&#8220;Whoa.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; replied Patience, &#8220;I&#8217;m a little late.
+Lots of business these days, Harvey?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You bet,&#8221; he retorted, &#8220;Millville is flourishing.
+We&#8217;ll soon have a real city here. Oh,
+Miss Welcome, let me make you acquainted
+with my friend, Mr. Michael Grogan of
+Chicago.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Patience accepted the introduction with
+flushed reserve.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m right glad to know you,&#8221; stated Mr.
+Grogan, removing his hat gallantly and
+wiping a perspiring brow with his handkerchief.
+&#8220;But let me tell you I don&#8217;t think much
+of your friend, Harvey Spencer. Sure, I&#8217;ve
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span>
+been riding with him for two hours and you&#8217;re
+the first pleasant object he&#8217;s shown me. And
+such a ride! It&#8217;s a certainty that this young
+fellow knows every bump and thank-ye-ma&#8217;am
+in the village and he&#8217;s taken me full
+speed over all of them. I feel like I&#8217;d been
+churned. But I&#8217;ll forgive him all that now&mdash;now
+that he&#8217;s shown me you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>There was a sincerity in Mr. Grogan&#8217;s
+raillery that swept away Patience&#8217;s reserve.
+Besides, he was over fifty.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure,&#8221; she said, slyly imitating Mr.
+Grogan&#8217;s brogue, &#8220;you&#8217;ve been kissing the
+blarney stone, Mr. Grogan.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will ye listen to that now?&#8221; said Grogan
+enthusiastically, as he started to clamber off
+the wagon.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sit still, Mr. Grogan,&#8221; said Harvey,
+laughing.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;But didn&#8217;t you hear her, man alive? Sure,
+she&#8217;s Irish&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I&#8217;m not,&#8221; put in Patience, &#8220;but I&#8217;ve
+heard of the blarney stone.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Look at that, now,&#8221; said Grogan, returning
+to his seat with an air of keen disappointment.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span>
+&#8220;And I was just longin&#8217; to see someone
+from the Ould Sod. I thought&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;How do you like riding with Harvey?&#8221; inquired
+Patience, changing the subject.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; said Grogan plaintively, &#8220;if I were
+twenty years younger maybe it would be good
+exercise, but with my years, Miss, &#8217;tis just
+plain exhausting.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Here Harvey started the roan colt off
+again. &#8220;See you later,&#8221; he called back to
+Patience, &#8220;I&#8217;m stopping at your house.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;So that&#8217;s Tom Welcome&#8217;s daughter, is it?&#8221;
+said Grogan as they got out of hearing.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s one of them,&#8221; said Harvey, &#8220;but
+you ought to see the other.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The old man now,&#8221; went on Grogan, &#8220;is a
+good deal of a lush.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The girls can&#8217;t help what their father is,&#8221;
+retorted Harvey, bridling.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know, I know,&#8221; went on Mr. Grogan.
+&#8220;Such things happen in the best of families.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, and you can&#8217;t blame Tom Welcome
+much, either,&#8221; went on Harvey. &#8220;He was
+drove to drink. He invented an electrical
+machine that would have made a fortune for
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span>
+him and some one stole it from him. It wasn&#8217;t
+the loss of the money that sent him to the
+devil, either. He&#8217;d spent a lifetime on his
+machine and just when he was getting it
+patented, some smart thief in Chicago takes it
+away from him. That&#8217;s what I call tough
+luck.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re hard up, you say?&#8221; pursued
+Grogan.
+</p>
+<p>Harvey, unconscious that he had said
+nothing of the sort, admitted that the Welcomes
+were in financial straits. &#8220;Their mother
+has to take in washing,&#8221; he said, &#8220;and both the
+girls work. It&#8217;s too bad, for they ought to
+be getting an education.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The roan colt came to an abrupt stop. They
+were in front of a small cottage. Grogan surveyed
+the place for a moment and then turned
+to his jehu. &#8220;And what might you be stopping
+here for?&#8221; he inquired.
+</p>
+<p>Harvey paused with one foot on the step of
+the wagon and looked up at Grogan gravely.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;This is Tom Welcome&#8217;s cottage,&#8221; he said.
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='III_ENTER_A_DETECTIVE' id='III_ENTER_A_DETECTIVE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER III</h2>
+<h3>ENTER A DETECTIVE</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>While Harvey Spencer was climbing
+down from his wagon Mr. Michael
+Grogan, who was not exactly the guileless
+soul Millville took him to be, permitted himself
+rather a close inspection of the Welcome
+premises. There was nothing imposing about
+them. The cottage was old and obviously in
+need of repair. The fence which surrounded
+it had been repaired in places, apparently by
+someone who had small interest in the job.
+The little patch of ground in front, however,
+was decorated with a neatly kept vegetable
+garden bordered with flowers. The stone step
+at the cottage entrance was immaculate. Mr.
+Grogan was shrewd enough to indulge himself
+in the speculation that whatever Tom
+Welcome might be his wife was a careful
+housekeeper.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span></p>
+<p>Mrs. Welcome was standing in her open
+door and Grogan studied her with a curiosity
+not entirely disinterested. Her figure was
+frail and slightly bowed. Her hair, as it
+showed in the deepening dusk was almost
+white. Her features had delicacy like those
+of the daughter Grogan had just met. She
+was wiping her hands on a gingham apron.
+They were hands of a hard working woman.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Mrs. Welcome, nice day, ain&#8217;t it?&#8221;
+called Harvey as he came through the gate.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, it is nice, isn&#8217;t it, Harvey?&#8221; replied
+Martha Welcome. &#8220;I hadn&#8217;t noticed it before,
+I&#8217;ve been so busy with the washing.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The woman&#8217;s voice, Mr. Grogan noted, held
+a note of sadness.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Seems to me,&#8221; said Harvey, dropping his
+voice and speaking with the assurance of an
+old family friend, &#8220;that if I had two girls like
+your Elsie and Patience, I&#8217;d see that they
+helped out with the washing.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;How can they help me?&#8221; replied Mrs.
+Welcome. &#8220;Patience is up early every morning
+and off to Mr. Price&#8217;s store and Elsie is
+at the mill all day.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s so,&#8221; said Harvey, &#8220;I didn&#8217;t think,
+but surely they might&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, they help a lot,&#8221; broke in Mrs. Welcome,
+hurriedly. &#8220;They do all their ironing
+at night. And that&#8217;s all anyone could ask of
+them after they come home tired from their
+work.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I&#8217;m glad to hear it. Your two girls
+always do look nice.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thank you, Harvey.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;But Mrs. Welcome&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Harvey?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you think&mdash;&#8221; Harvey stopped and
+looked about hesitatingly,&mdash;&#8220;Ah, don&#8217;t you
+think it would be just as well if Elsie didn&#8217;t
+see quite as much of this Chicago fellow?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you mean Mr. Druce?&#8221; inquired Mrs.
+Welcome.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do. Of course, he&#8217;s all right&mdash;&#8221; Harvey
+again hesitated and puckered his lips thoughtfully.
+&#8220;He wears fine clothing, patent leather
+shoes, sports a diamond ring, but it seems to
+me Elsie&#8217;s different somehow since that
+Martin Druce began to hang around.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Mrs. Welcome laughed softly. There was
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span>
+a glint of humor in her eyes. &#8220;I guess you&#8217;re
+jealous, aren&#8217;t you, Harvey?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, say I am,&#8221; agreed Harvey. &#8220;Never
+mind that. Is it a good thing for Elsie?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Elsie&#8217;s a good girl,&#8221; replied Mrs. Welcome.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;She sure is, Mrs. Welcome. That&#8217;s why I
+want her to be Mrs. Harvey Spencer.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Mrs. Welcome opened her eyes wide at this
+statement and looked kindly at the stout
+young man before her.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You mean it, Harvey?&#8221; she demanded.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m so much in earnest,&#8221; he replied,
+fumbling in his pocket, &#8220;that I&#8217;ve got the ring
+right here.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He produced a plain gold wedding ring
+nestling in a white velvet case. Mrs. Welcome
+uttered a little cry of gladness. She believed
+in Harvey, who, incidentally, was all he pretended
+to be.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;O, I know I ain&#8217;t much,&#8221; went on Harvey,
+&#8220;just a clerk in a small town store, but I&#8217;ve
+got ambitions. Look at all the great men!
+Where did they begin? At the bottom.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Harvey paused. Then he looked all about
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span>
+him carefully and, satisfied with this survey,
+leaned confidentially toward Mrs. Welcome
+and whispered:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say, can you keep a secret, Mrs. Welcome?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I guess so,&#8221; replied Mrs. Welcome smiling.
+&#8220;Try me, Harvey.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right, I&#8217;m going to be a detective,&#8221;
+Harvey announced proudly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are, Harvey?&#8221; was the astonished
+reply.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just watch me,&#8221; Harvey went on. &#8220;I&#8217;m
+taking a correspondence school course. Here
+are some of my lessons.&#8221; He took some
+closely typewritten sheets of paper from his
+pocket. &#8220;Ever notice how broad I am between
+the eyes?&#8221; he demanded.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t say that I have,&#8221; said Mrs. Welcome.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I am, and it&#8217;s one of the signs, so
+they say, of the born detective. Listen here
+a moment.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He unfolded the bulky pages and read
+grandly:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Always be observant of even the smallest
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span>
+trifles. A speck of dust may be an important
+clew to a murder.&#8217;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Harvey!&#8221; cried Mrs. Welcome.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t be frightened, Mrs. Welcome, just
+wanted to show you that I mean business.&#8221;
+Harvey paused for a moment and regarded
+her steadily. Then he pointed his finger at
+her accusingly as he said: &#8220;I knew you were
+washing before you told me!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You did, Harvey?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure, because you had suds on your apron
+where you dried your hands.&#8221; He drew a
+deep sigh and threw out his chest. &#8220;There,&#8221;
+he said. &#8220;Oh, I guess I&#8217;m bad at these lessons,
+eh?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a good boy, Harvey,&#8221; replied Mrs.
+Welcome, indulgently.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thank you.&#8221; He bowed. &#8220;Oh, perhaps
+my future mother-in-law and I aren&#8217;t going
+to get along fine,&#8221; he announced to the world
+in general, exultingly.
+</p>
+<p>The roan colt interrupted this rhapsody by
+pawing impatiently at the ground. Harvey
+took his order book from his pocket and stuck
+his stub of lead pencil in his mouth.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; he inquired, &#8220;how about orders,
+Mrs. Welcome?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&mdash;we&mdash;need some flour,&#8221; was the hesitating
+reply.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;A barrel?&#8221; suggested Harvey, turning to
+a fresh page of his order book.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No&mdash;no&mdash;no&mdash;I&mdash;I guess ten pounds, and&mdash;I
+guess that&#8217;s about all, Harvey.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now you&#8217;ll excuse me if I doubt your
+word, Mrs. Welcome,&#8221; said Harvey, writing
+down fifty pounds of flour quickly. &#8220;Come
+now, tell me what you do really want.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;O, what&#8217;s the use. We need everything,
+we&mdash;&#8221; Mrs. Welcome broke down and began
+to weep softly as she turned toward the house.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now hold on, Mrs. Welcome, don&#8217;t break
+away from me like that!&#8221; Harvey followed
+her and laid his hand gently on her arm. &#8220;I
+hope Mr. Welcome isn&#8217;t drinking again.
+Is he?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m afraid so, Harvey.&#8221; Mrs. Welcome&#8217;s
+frail shoulders quivered as she attempted to
+restrain her sobs. &#8220;Why, Tom hasn&#8217;t been
+home for two days and&mdash;and our rent is due&mdash;and&mdash;&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span></p>
+<p>Harvey Spencer interrupted with a prolonged
+whistle which seemed to be the best
+way he could think of expressing sympathy.
+A light dawned on him.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s why young Harry Boland is here
+from Chicago, to collect the rent, eh?&#8221; he
+inquired.
+</p>
+<p>Mrs. Welcome nodded assent, &#8220;Yes,&#8221; she
+said, &#8220;Mr. Boland has been very kind. He
+has waited two weeks and&mdash;and&mdash;we can&#8217;t
+pay him.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why not let me&mdash;&#8221; suggested Harvey,
+putting his hand into his pocket. Mrs. Welcome
+checked him with a quick movement.
+&#8220;No, Harvey, please. I don&#8217;t want you to do
+that,&#8221; she said. &#8220;I wouldn&#8217;t feel right about
+it somehow.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just as you say, Mrs. Welcome.&#8221; Harvey
+was rather diffident and hesitated to press a
+loan on her. To change the subject he said:
+&#8220;Young Mr. Boland seems taken up with
+Patience.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hadn&#8217;t noticed it,&#8221; said Mrs. Welcome,
+drying her eyes.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;O, we detectives have to keep our eyes
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span>
+open,&#8221; acclaimed Harvey with another burst
+of pride.
+</p>
+<p>But here Michael Grogan interrupted.
+&#8220;Young man,&#8221; he called out from the roadway,
+&#8220;are you really taking orders or is this
+one of your visiting days?&#8221; He tied the colt
+and came into the yard.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello,&#8221; said Harvey, &#8220;getting tired of
+waiting?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I felt myself growing to that hitching
+post,&#8221; said Grogan, &#8220;so I tied that bunch
+of nerves you have out there and moved before
+I took root.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Harvey laughed and turned to Mrs. Welcome.
+&#8220;This is Mr. Michael Grogan, Mrs.
+Welcome,&#8221; he said.
+</p>
+<p>Mrs. Welcome backed away toward the
+porch, removing her apron. &#8220;Good afternoon,
+sir,&#8221; she greeted him. &#8220;I hope you are well?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; said Grogan, &#8220;I was before this
+young marauder cajoled me into leaving me
+arm chair on the hotel veranda to go bumping
+over these roads.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Mrs. Welcome smiled and extended her
+hand. &#8220;I&#8217;m very glad to know you, Mr.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span>
+Grogan. You mustn&#8217;t mind Harvey&#8217;s impetuous
+ways. He&#8217;s all right here.&#8221; She placed
+her hand on her heart.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll go bail he is that if you say so, Mrs.
+Welcome,&#8221; replied Grogan gallantly, &#8220;anyhow
+I&#8217;ll take him on your word.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just ready to go, Mr. Grogan, when you
+called,&#8221; put in Harvey. Then he caught Mrs.
+Welcome by the arm and bustled her into the
+house, saying: &#8220;And I&#8217;ll see that you get all
+of those things, Mrs. Welcome, flour, corn
+meal, tomatoes, beans, lard&mdash;&#8221; and in spite of
+her protestations he closed the door on her
+with a parting: &#8220;Everything on the first delivery
+tomorrow morning sure.&#8221; Then he added
+to Grogan, who stood smiling with a look of
+comprehension on his face, &#8220;All right. Ready
+to go.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s about time,&#8221; commented Grogan as
+they went toward the wagon. &#8220;Don&#8217;t think
+I&#8217;m too inquisitive if I ask who are these Welcomes
+anyhow?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;People who are having a tough time,&#8221; replied
+Harvey, unhitching his colt. &#8220;Tom Welcome
+used to be quite a man. He had that invention
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span>
+I was telling you about, an electric
+lamp. He was done out of it and went to the
+booze for consolation.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;So,&#8221; murmured Grogan, half to himself,
+&#8220;Two girls in the family, eh?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, that was one of them you met just
+before we came here.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The pretty one?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, and they&#8217;re the best ever,&#8221; added
+Harvey, antagonized by something he sensed
+in his companion&#8217;s manner.
+</p>
+<p>Grogan turned to him smiling. &#8220;There,&#8221;
+he said, &#8220;don&#8217;t get hot about it. Nobody
+doubts that, meself least of all. Ain&#8217;t I Irish?
+It&#8217;s the first article of every Irishman&#8217;s creed
+to believe that all women, old or young, pretty
+or otherwise, all of them are just&mdash;good.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Harvey seized the older man&#8217;s hand and
+shook it vigorously. Then looking up the road
+he said:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Here comes Elsie Welcome, I think. I
+want you to meet her.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah,&#8221; retorted Grogan. He turned and
+looked at Elsie closely. She ran rapidly down
+the pathway toward the gate. She saw them,
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span>
+paused, walked more slowly and came up to
+them apparently in confusion.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, hello Harv! What are you doing
+here so late?&#8221; she asked. Without waiting for
+a reply she started toward the gate flinging
+back a short &#8220;Good night.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The girl&#8217;s whole manner indicated a guilty
+conscience. It was evident that she did not
+wish to talk to Harvey Spencer. She passed
+through the gate toward the door of her home.
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='IV_HARVEY_MEETS__A_DEALER_IN_CATTLE' id='IV_HARVEY_MEETS__A_DEALER_IN_CATTLE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+<h3>HARVEY MEETS &#8220;A DEALER IN CATTLE&#8221;</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Harvey threw the reins into Grogan&#8217;s
+lap and strode recklessly after Elsie.
+His good-natured face was flushed with
+anger.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say,&#8221; he demanded, &#8220;what&#8217;s the matter?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The girl, unwilling, halted. &#8220;Nothing,&#8221;
+she replied, &#8220;what makes you ask that?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why,&#8221; explained Harvey, hiding his anger
+and attempting to take her hand, &#8220;you&#8217;re out
+of breath.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Been running,&#8221; was the girl&#8217;s laconic
+explanation.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t usually run home from the mill,
+Elsie,&#8221; Harvey&#8217;s detective instinct was showing
+itself.
+</p>
+<p>Elsie was extremely irritated by this unwished
+for interview.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I&mdash;&#8221; she stammered, &#8220;I wanted to
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span>
+get here because it&#8217;s Monday and mother&#8217;s
+washing day and&mdash;&#8221; She paused, her irritation
+getting the better of her. &#8220;I don&#8217;t see
+what right you have to question me, Harvey
+Spencer.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Grogan had got down from the wagon and
+at this moment came through the gate.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Young man,&#8221; he began, addressing Spencer.
+The girl interrupted him.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who are you?&#8221; she demanded. &#8220;Do you
+come from the mill?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I come from no mill,&#8221; retorted Grogan,
+piqued by the girl&#8217;s tone, &#8220;and if you&#8217;ll excuse
+me I don&#8217;t want to.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;This is Mr. Michael Grogan of Chicago,&#8221;
+put in Harvey placatingly. &#8220;I&#8217;ve been showing
+him the town.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;And,&#8221; added Grogan quickly, &#8220;I haven&#8217;t
+seen much.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s not at all strange,&#8221; said Elsie,
+&#8220;because there&#8217;s nothing to see.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;And in Chicago, where I come from,&#8221; said
+Grogan sagely, &#8220;there&#8217;s altogether too much.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Grogan saw by his two companions&#8217; faces
+that he was an intruder.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Young man,&#8221; he said, &#8220;I don&#8217;t think I&#8217;ll
+wait for you. I&#8217;ve some letters to write at the
+hotel. I think I&#8217;ll be strolling along.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why,&#8221; said Harvey, hospitable in the face
+of intrusion, &#8220;you&#8217;re welcome to ride. Won&#8217;t
+you wait?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, thanks,&#8221; said Grogan, &#8220;that grocery
+wagon of yours wasn&#8217;t built to accommodate
+a man of my size.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Harvey and the girl watched Grogan disappear
+in the dusk. Then the young man
+turned to the girl.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Elsie&mdash;&#8221; he began tenderly.
+</p>
+<p>But the girl stopped him. &#8220;Now don&#8217;t
+begin to question me,&#8221; she ordered. &#8220;I won&#8217;t
+answer.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are trying to hide something from
+me,&#8221; said Harvey, grasping the girl&#8217;s unwilling
+hand. The girl drew away from him.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s not true,&#8221; she said. &#8220;I don&#8217;t want
+you to bother me.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I never used to bother you,&#8221; said Harvey,
+his face flushing.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;That was before&mdash;&#8221; began Elsie impulsively.
+&#8220;I mean now,&#8221; she went on, catching
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span>
+herself. &#8220;I mean that you do now because
+you have changed.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; contradicted Harvey, &#8220;but you have.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean by that?&#8221; challenged
+the girl.
+</p>
+<p>Harvey stood silent for a moment and
+jerked out a laugh of embarrassment. &#8220;I don&#8217;t
+know exactly what I mean,&#8221; he said, &#8220;but you
+know we were engaged.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Elsie flushed. &#8220;We were not,&#8221; she said.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I mean,&#8221; said Harvey miserably stumbling
+on, &#8220;we sort of were. We understood.&#8221; He
+brought one hand from his pocket. It held the
+box containing the ring. &#8220;Why, Elsie,&#8221; he
+said pleadingly, &#8220;I even bought the ring.
+Just a plain band of gold. I did so hope that
+some day, soon perhaps, you&#8217;d let me put it on
+your finger and take you to our home. It
+wouldn&#8217;t be much, but I&#8217;d love you and care
+for you. Why I&#8217;d work night and day just to
+make things easy for you. I love you. It all
+begins and ends with that.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Elsie stood for a moment as though this
+honest appeal had touched her. Then she
+turned sharply.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;O, what&#8217;s the use,&#8221; she cried, &#8220;Look at
+this place. See how we live. And you&mdash;you
+want me to go on like this? No!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Harvey stared at her stupidly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t stare at me like that,&#8221; said the girl
+annoyed.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am wondering what has changed you
+so,&#8221; said Harvey apologetically.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing, I tell you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, there is something, or somebody.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now Harvey, please don&#8217;t begin&mdash;&#8221; Elsie
+paused. Her glance left Harvey&#8217;s face. A
+young man in a brown tweed suit and carrying
+a light walking stick in his gloved hand was
+coming toward the gate.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello,&#8221; he said easily, addressing Elsie and
+ignoring Spencer, &#8220;anybody at home?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Elsie turned toward him with impulsive
+friendliness, then remembering her other suitor
+paused and tried to assume a manner of
+unconcern.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course, there&#8217;s someone at home,&#8221; she
+said, &#8220;can&#8217;t you see there is?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Can&#8217;t be sure that such loveliness is real,&#8221;
+said the newcomer gallantly.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re talking Chicagoese,&#8221; said the girl,
+not, however, displeased.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Simple fact, believe me,&#8221; was the assured
+response.
+</p>
+<p>Elsie saw that Harvey was eyeing the
+stranger with hostility. &#8220;Do you know Mr.
+Spencer, Mr. Druce?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Everybody in Millville knows Mr.
+Spencer,&#8221; replied Martin Druce, putting out
+his hand. &#8220;He&#8217;s a town institution.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thank you,&#8221; said Harvey, mollified by
+what he thought a sincere compliment and
+shaking hands.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Institution!&#8221; laughed Elsie.
+</p>
+<p>Harvey stopped and withdrew the hand. It
+dawned on him that there was a secret understanding
+between Druce and the girl.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now hold on,&#8221; he asked. &#8220;Just what do
+you mean by that word &#8216;institution?&#8217;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why you&#8217;re one of the landmarks here,&#8221;
+explained Druce, &#8220;the same as the bank or the
+opera house.&#8221; He brushed the lapel of
+Harvey&#8217;s coat with his gloved hand and
+straightened his collar. Then he soberly removed
+Harvey&#8217;s straw hat, fingered it into
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span>
+grotesque lines and replaced it on his head.
+He stepped back to observe the effect, adding
+satirically: &#8220;I&#8217;ll bet you won&#8217;t stay long in
+this jay town.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re dead right there,&#8221; boasted Harvey.
+&#8220;Millville is all right and a rising place but&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I knew it,&#8221; said Druce gravely. &#8220;You&#8217;ll
+be coming up to Chicago to show Marshall
+Field how to run his store.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I may&mdash;&#8221; began Harvey proudly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; Elsie&#8217;s voice was pained. &#8220;Don&#8217;t
+do that, Mr. Druce!&#8221; Then she turned to
+Spencer. &#8220;Why do you let him make a joke
+of you?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who? Me?&#8221; Harvey looked at her in
+astonishment. He turned to Druce savagely.
+&#8220;Say,&#8221; he demanded, &#8220;are you trying to kid
+me?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not on your life,&#8221; was the reply. &#8220;I knew
+better than to try to kid a wise young man
+like you. What I&#8217;m trying to say is that
+you&#8217;re too big for this town. Say, what&#8217;s
+your ambition?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I&#8217;ve got one, Mr. Druce. I&#8217;m going
+to be a detective.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, there&#8217;s lots of room for a real one
+in Chicago,&#8221; said Druce, suppressing a contemptuous
+smile.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I may go there some day.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come along,&#8221; said Druce, &#8220;the more the
+merrier.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say, Mr. Druce,&#8221; asked Harvey, now completely
+taken in by the ingratiating stranger,
+&#8220;what&#8217;s your business?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mine, why&mdash;&#8221; The man moved toward
+Elsie as he spoke, gazing at her steadily.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, you&#8217;ve got one, haven&#8217;t you?&#8221; persisted
+Harvey.
+</p>
+<p>Druce seemed confused for a moment.
+Then his face broke into a genial smile. Both
+Elsie and Spencer were watching him
+curiously.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure, I&#8217;ve got a business. It&#8217;s a mighty
+profitable one, too. I&#8217;m a dealer in live stock.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, cattle?&#8221; said Harvey.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You got me,&#8221; was the casual response,
+&#8220;just cattle.&#8221;
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='V_A_SERPENT_WHISPERS_AND_A_WOMAN_LISTENS' id='V_A_SERPENT_WHISPERS_AND_A_WOMAN_LISTENS'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER V</h2>
+<h3>A SERPENT WHISPERS AND A WOMAN LISTENS</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>The word cattle seemed to arouse the
+roan colt to his own existence. He
+whinnied ingratiatingly and tugged at his
+hitching strap. Whether or not his master had
+forgotten, he knew it was supper time.
+Harvey heard him.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; he said to Druce, backing away
+towards the gate. &#8220;I&#8217;ve got to be going. Drop
+into the store some time. I&#8217;ll give you a
+cigar.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thanks,&#8221; laughed Druce. Then under his
+breath he added, &#8220;Like blazes I will.&#8221; He
+turned back to Elsie. &#8220;Is that the Rube,&#8221;
+he demanded, &#8220;who wants to marry you?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; defended Elsie hotly, &#8220;and he&#8217;s all
+right, too. I don&#8217;t think it was nice of you to
+make fun of him as you did.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, now,&#8221; said Druce soothingly.
+&#8220;Don&#8217;t be angry with me. I was just playing
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span>
+around.&#8221; He paused and looked warily
+at the house. &#8220;Everything all right, eh?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I guess so,&#8221; replied Elsie, with an
+anxious look in the same direction. &#8220;Harvey
+frightened me when I first got home. For a
+moment I thought he knew that I had been
+out with you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, what if he did? There&#8217;s no harm in
+going for a ride with me, is there?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No-o,&#8221; Elsie shook her head doubtfully.
+&#8220;But I don&#8217;t feel just right about it.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;And that grocery fellow didn&#8217;t know after
+all, eh?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think not. At least he said nothing.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Druce shrugged his shoulders derisively.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think not. At least he said nothing.&#8221;
+he couldn&#8217;t detect a hair in the butter. I&#8217;m
+not worried about him. How is it with your
+own folks? Your mother doesn&#8217;t know?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p style='color:gray; font-size:smaller;'>[Transcriber&#8127;s note: previous paragraph transcribed as printed,
+with apparent obfuscation by duplicated line.]
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; replied Elsie, uneasy again. &#8220;Anyway,
+mother wouldn&#8217;t matter so much, but
+dad&mdash;&#8221; She covered her face with her hands.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Never mind,&#8221; said Druce tenderly, drawing
+her toward him and caressing her. &#8220;We
+had some ride, didn&#8217;t we?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Grand,&#8221; replied Elsie, brightened by the
+recollection.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I told you it would be all right if I hired
+the car and picked you up around the corner
+from the mill. Say&mdash;&#8221; The man lowered his
+tone. &#8220;Gee, you&#8217;re prettier than ever today,
+Elsie!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Something in his manner caused the girl to
+recoil. The shrinking movement did not
+escape Druce.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the matter, girlie?&#8221; he inquired.
+&#8220;Do you know that in all the weeks I have been
+coming down here from Chicago to see you,
+you haven&#8217;t even kissed me?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Please,&#8221; pleaded the girl, pushing him
+away. She scarcely understood her mood.
+She only knew she did not want Druce to
+touch her.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the matter?&#8221; repeated Druce, following
+close behind her.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; faltered the girl, &#8220;I feel
+wicked somehow.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why?&#8221; He led her to a bench and sat
+down beside her. &#8220;Haven&#8217;t I always treated
+you like a lady?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Martin, you&#8217;ve been good to me&mdash;but&mdash;I
+feel wicked.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Druce laughed. &#8220;Nonsense, girlie,&#8221; he
+said, &#8220;you couldn&#8217;t be wicked if you tried. Do
+you know what you ought to do?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What?&#8221; she asked.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Turn your back on this town where nothing
+ever happens and come to little old Chicago,
+the live village by the lake.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Chicago! What could I do there?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Make more money in a month than you can
+earn here in a year.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;But how?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You can sing,&#8221; said Druce appraisingly.
+&#8220;You&#8217;re there forty ways when it comes to
+looks. Why they&#8217;d pay you a hundred
+dollars a week to sing in the cabarets.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cabarets?&#8221; The girl&#8217;s interest was
+aroused. &#8220;What&#8217;s a cabaret?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;A cabaret,&#8221; said Druce, &#8220;is a restaurant
+where ladies and gentlemen dine. A fine great
+hall, polished floors, rugs, palms, a lot of little
+tables, colored lights, flowers, silver, cut glass,
+perfumes, a grand orchestra&mdash;get that in your
+mind&mdash;and then the orchestra strikes up and
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span>
+you come down the aisle, right through the
+crowd and sing to them.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I&#8217;d love to do that,&#8221; said the girl.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why not try it?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I wouldn&#8217;t know how to begin.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll show you how.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tell me, tell me how, quick.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dead easy,&#8221; Druce explained smoothly.
+&#8220;I&#8217;m going back to Chicago on the evening
+train tonight. Now there&#8217;s no use having
+trouble with your folks. They wouldn&#8217;t
+understand. You tell them you are going over
+to one of the neighbors&#8217;, anything you can
+think of. That train slows down at the junction,
+right across the field there&mdash;you can
+always hear it whistle. I&#8217;ll be aboard the last
+car and I&#8217;ll take you to Chicago with me.
+Then when we get there we&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He broke off abruptly for Elsie started up
+from the bench and moved slowly away.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the matter, girlie?&#8221; asked Druce.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; the girl answered.
+&#8220;There isn&#8217;t anyone here but just us, is there?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; replied Druce, watching the girl
+closely, &#8220;why?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Because,&#8221; she half whispered, &#8220;it seemed
+to me just then that someone touched me on
+the arm and said, &#8216;Don&#8217;t go!&#8217;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Druce started. He looked carefully
+around. Then he laughed.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re hearing things tonight, Elsie,&#8221; he
+said. &#8220;There&#8217;s no one here but just you and
+me.&#8221; He took her by the hand and was drawing
+her down to the bench when suddenly the
+front door of the cottage opened and Mrs.
+Welcome appeared.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Elsie,&#8221; she called. She stood framed in the
+lighted doorway, her eyes shaded with her
+hand. Like a shadow Druce faded from his
+seat beside the girl and dodged behind a tree
+out of sight, but in hearing.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is that you, Elsie?&#8221; asked the mother. &#8220;I
+thought I heard voices. Was Harvey here?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; replied the girl in confusion, &#8220;he has
+just gone.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You didn&#8217;t see anything of your father,
+did you?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Elsie shook her head. &#8220;You&mdash;you don&#8217;t
+suppose dad&#8217;s drinking again?&#8221; the girl asked
+anxiously.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I suppose so,&#8221; replied the mother wearily.
+&#8220;He hasn&#8217;t been here all day.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, mother,&#8221; the girl wailed. &#8220;What shall
+we do?&#8221; She sank down on the seat.
+</p>
+<p>Her mother took her in her arms. &#8220;Don&#8217;t
+cry,&#8221; she said. &#8220;Come in and help me get
+supper.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m waiting for Patience,&#8221; replied the girl.
+&#8220;I&#8217;ll be in the house in a moment. You go
+ahead with the work. When Patience comes
+we&#8217;ll both help you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Mrs. Welcome walked back into the cottage.
+As the door closed behind her Druce reappeared.
+He had not missed a word of the conversation
+between Elsie and her mother; as he
+now approached he outlined in his mind an immediate
+plan of attack.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Elsie,&#8221; he said softly. The girl started.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I thought you had gone,&#8221; she said. &#8220;No,
+don&#8217;t touch me. I&#8217;m in trouble. My father&mdash;&#8221;
+she covered her face with her hands.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I know,&#8221; said Druce. &#8220;I heard it all.
+Why do you stay here? Why do you&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It isn&#8217;t that,&#8221; retorted the girl, too proud
+to accept sympathy. &#8220;You made me lie to my
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span>
+mother. That is the first time I ever deceived
+my mother.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t cry,&#8221; said Druce. He drew her to
+the bench. &#8220;Come,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;be sensible.
+Dry those tears. Come with me to Chicago.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;How do you know I could get a chance to
+sing in that place you told me of?&#8221; she demanded,
+open to argument.
+</p>
+<p>Druce pressed his advantage. &#8220;Why,&#8221; he
+said, &#8220;I&#8217;m interested in one myself. I think I
+could arrange to place you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Martin,&#8221; said Elsie, &#8220;you said you were in
+the live stock business.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Druce hesitated a moment, toying with his
+cane. &#8220;I am,&#8221; he said slowly. &#8220;This cabaret&mdash;er&mdash;is
+a little speculation on the side. Come
+now, say you&#8217;ll be at the train at eight o&#8217;clock.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The girl considered long.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Think,&#8221; said Druce, &#8220;with one hundred dollars
+a week you will be able to take your mother
+out of this hole. Why, you&#8217;ll be independent!
+You owe it to your family not to let this opportunity
+escape you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll go,&#8221; said Elsie.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good! Good for you, I mean,&#8221; said Druce.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;On one condition,&#8221; the girl went on.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Elsie got up from her seat embarrassed.
+&#8220;It all depends,&#8221; she said.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;On what?&#8221; demanded Druce.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;On you, Martin.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Me?&#8221; Druce laughed uneasily.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; said the girl walking close to him and
+looking him in the face. &#8220;There is only one
+way I can go to Chicago with you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;How&#8217;s that, girlie?&#8221; was Druce&#8217;s astonished
+question.
+</p>
+<p>Elsie held up her left hand timidly. &#8220;With
+a plain gold ring on that finger, Martin,&#8221; she
+said. She was now blushing furiously.
+She knew that she had virtually proposed to
+Druce. He laughed and something in his laugh
+jarred her.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, marriage,&#8221; he said.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know that Martin, don&#8217;t you? I
+couldn&#8217;t go to Chicago with you any other
+way.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Druce took off his hat. &#8220;Elsie,&#8221; he said,
+&#8220;you&#8217;re as good as gold. I honor you for your
+scruples.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span></p>
+<p>He paused to think for a moment. &#8220;I&#8217;ll tell
+you,&#8221; he said. &#8220;You come along with me and
+I&#8217;ll marry you as soon as we reach Chicago.
+Meanwhile I&#8217;ll telegraph ahead and arrange
+to have you taken care of by my old aunt.
+You&#8217;ll be as safe with her as if you were in
+your own home.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You promise to marry me?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure I do, girlie.&#8221; He broke off blusteringly.
+&#8220;What do you take me for? Do you
+think I&#8217;d lure you to Chicago and then leave
+you?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Martin,&#8221; said Elsie gravely, &#8220;a girl must
+protect herself.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll go, honey?&#8221; Druce persisted.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t tell,&#8221; replied the girl desperately,
+anxious to promise and yet afraid.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll go,&#8221; said Druce positively, &#8220;at
+eight o&#8217;clock&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>A cool voice broke in on his sentence. Druce
+started like a man suddenly drenched with
+cold water.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s that is going to happen at eight
+o&#8217;clock, Mr. Druce?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The speaker was Patience Welcome.
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='VI_A_ROMANCE_DAWNS_AND_A_TRAGEDY' id='VI_A_ROMANCE_DAWNS_AND_A_TRAGEDY'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+<h3>A ROMANCE DAWNS&mdash;AND A TRAGEDY</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Patience Welcome shared all the
+prejudices of her employer, John Price,
+against &#8220;city chaps.&#8221; Her observation of
+those who had presented themselves in Millville
+had not raised her estimate of them. As
+a class she found them overdressed and underbred.
+They came into her small town obsessed
+with the notion of their superiority. Patience
+had been at some pains in a quiet way to
+puncture the pretensions of as many as came
+within scope of her sarcasm. She was not, like
+many girls of Millville, so much overwhelmed
+by the glamour of Chicago that she believed
+every being from that metropolis must be of
+a superior breed. She had penetration enough
+to estimate them at their true value. In her
+frankness, she made no effort to conceal her
+sentiments toward them.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span></p>
+<p>But recently there had come into her
+acquaintance a product of Chicago whom she
+could not fit into Mr. Price&#8217;s city chap category.
+This was Harry Boland.
+</p>
+<p>Young Boland, the son of Chicago&#8217;s &#8220;electrical
+king,&#8221; was himself president of his
+father&#8217;s Lake City Electrical Company. He
+was good looking, quiet, competent and totally
+lacking in the bumptiousness that Patience
+found so offensive in other Chicago youths.
+Toward him Patience had been compelled to
+modify her usual attitude of open aversion to
+mere cold reserve. She did not quite comprehend
+him and until conviction of his merits
+came she was determined to occupy the safe
+ground of suspicion.
+</p>
+<p>Patience and Harry Boland had first met on
+a basis that could scarcely have been more
+formal. The young man, early in his business
+career, had been his father&#8217;s collector.
+Part of his duties had consisted of collecting
+the rents of a large number of workmen&#8217;s cottages
+which the elder Boland owned at Millville.
+The Welcomes occupied one of these
+cottages. As Tom Welcome not infrequently
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span>
+was unable to pay the rent when it was due,
+Boland had had numerous opportunities for
+seeing Patience, who was treasurer of the Welcome
+household.
+</p>
+<p>Her attitude toward him had at first
+amused, then annoyed and finally interested
+him. When he began to understand what was
+back of her coldness a respect, such as he had
+felt for no other girl, developed in him. The
+more she held him off the more eager he became
+for a better acquaintance. This desire was fed
+by her repulses. Long ago he had made up his
+mind that he loved her. Now, in spite of the
+social chasm that yawned between them, he
+was determined to win her. His intentions
+toward her were honor itself. He was determined
+to marry her.
+</p>
+<p>When Harvey Spencer drove off, after
+having introduced Patience to Grogan, the girl
+started toward her home. She had gone only
+a short distance when a quick step behind her
+appraised her that she was followed. A
+moment later Harry Boland appeared at her
+side, hat in hand.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;How do you do, Miss Welcome?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m very well, thank you,&#8221; replied Patience,
+primly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Beautiful day, isn&#8217;t it?&#8221; demanded Harry
+inanely.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; agreed Patience, &#8220;I love the spring
+and even Millville is beautiful now.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think it the most beautiful place in the
+world,&#8221; declared Harry enthusiastically.
+</p>
+<p>Patience looked at him in surprise, then
+colored and laughed. &#8220;Do you?&#8221; she said with
+the accent on the first word.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hope,&#8221; said Harry, &#8220;that you don&#8217;t mind
+if I smoke.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not at all.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>There was an awkward silence.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Patience,&#8221; Harry used the girl&#8217;s name for
+the first time with deliberation, &#8220;why don&#8217;t
+you speak to me?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Patience did not resent the familiarity.
+&#8220;I am thinking,&#8221; she replied.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You act as though you do not like me.
+What have I done?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s not that,&#8221; replied Patience shortly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then you are trying to avoid me.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Why?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you know?&#8221; She turned and looked
+at him squarely. She was determined to dispose
+of his attentions then and there.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not good at riddles.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Think a moment, then. You are Harry
+Boland, only son of the richest and most powerful
+man in Chicago. I am Patience Welcome,
+daughter of a broken inventor, tenant in
+a cottage which you own, where I cannot pay
+the rent. Can there be anything in common
+between us?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Harry ignored the question. &#8220;You have
+forgotten one fact,&#8221; he said. There was determination
+in his voice. &#8220;Or don&#8217;t you know
+it?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is that?&#8221; asked Patience over her
+shoulder, for she had turned from him.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;That Harry Boland is in love with Patience
+Welcome.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What an absurdity!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t believe me?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;How can you talk like that to me?&#8221; said
+the girl, now agitated. &#8220;Look at me. You
+know we are in arrears for rent.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t worry about that.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>She turned on him defiantly and looked into
+his eyes. Then her glance fell under his more
+burning one. She flushed and turned away.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I suppose,&#8221; she said, huskily with humiliation,
+&#8220;that you have paid the rent yourself.&#8221;
+She was almost in tears.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now don&#8217;t take it like that,&#8221; pleaded
+Harry. &#8220;No one but you and me will ever
+know. And if you will let me I will take you
+away from all this.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Patience raised her head. She had recovered
+her composure.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;All men come to that finally,&#8221; she said
+coldly. &#8220;Even in my slight experience I have
+learned the phrase almost by heart. All men
+say that. They offer&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just a moment.&#8221; Harry put out his
+hand emphatically. &#8220;Wait! All the men in
+your slight experience may have said it, but all
+have not meant it. I mean that if I take you
+away from all this I shall take you as Mrs.
+Harry Boland&mdash;as my wife.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Harry!&#8221; His name was wrenched from
+the girl&#8217;s very heart by her surprise.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you believe that I love you now?&#8221; demanded
+Boland.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. I didn&#8217;t know, I didn&#8217;t understand.
+I have wronged you ever since I have known
+you. Forgive me. But your father?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let me call your attention to the fact,&#8221;
+said Harry, planting himself firmly before
+her, &#8220;that I am many years past the age of
+seven&mdash;and can choose a wife for myself.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;But your father?&#8221; insisted Patience.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, he may rage and fume,&#8221; retorted
+Harry, &#8220;but I have a standing of my own. I
+am president of the Lake City Electric Company
+that controls dad&#8217;s patent light.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;My father was interested in electricity,
+too&mdash;before&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>But Harry interrupted her. &#8220;Never mind
+our fathers,&#8221; he said. &#8220;We are the chief
+characters in this romance, you know.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>They had reached the path leading to the
+Welcome cottage. Patience, eager to end the
+interview which had thrown her into a state
+of consternation, such as she had never experienced
+before, seized the present opportunity.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Harry,&#8221; she said, &#8220;please go. We are expecting
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span>
+father home and&mdash;I&#8217;m afraid&mdash;it
+won&#8217;t be pleasant.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You haven&#8217;t answered me. I&#8217;m off to
+Chicago tomorrow.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tomorrow!&#8221; Patience caught her breath
+quickly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, in my new car. I&#8217;m going to drive
+back. I&#8217;ve overstayed my time and there are
+business calls which I simply cannot ignore.
+I&#8217;ll not insist on an answer tonight, but will
+you write me?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The girl put out her hand which Harry
+grasped. Her lips quivered and she breathed,
+&#8220;Yes.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He lifted the hand to his lips, but the girl
+drew it from him, whispered &#8220;goodby&#8221; and
+darted away. He stood watching her until she
+disappeared. Patience hurrying toward the
+cottage was roused from her tumult of emotion
+by the sound of voices. Once she heard
+the words &#8220;eight o&#8217;clock,&#8221; without recognizing
+the speaker. When they were spoken again
+she knew the voice as that of Martin Druce.
+She disliked Druce. The thought of his being
+alone with Elsie chilled her.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span></p>
+<p>She came toward him swiftly but in silence.
+Her question: &#8220;What did you say was going
+to happen at eight o&#8217;clock, Mr. Druce?&#8221; was a
+complete surprise.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh&mdash;why&mdash;&#8221; stammered Druce, off his
+guard.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why Patience, how late you are,&#8221; interrupted
+Elsie to conceal Druce&#8217;s confusion.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just a little, dear,&#8221; replied Patience, now
+confused herself. &#8220;I have been busy at the
+store.&#8221; Then she turned to Druce again.
+&#8220;What is it about eight o&#8217;clock&mdash;is it something
+concerning Elsie?&#8221; she persisted.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;O, I was just saying that I had to meet a
+man at the hotel at eight,&#8221; returned Druce, full
+of assurance again.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah!&#8221; said Patience, &#8220;well, you&#8217;ll catch him
+all right&mdash;if you start now.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Druce laughed. &#8220;Here&#8217;s your hat&mdash;what&#8217;s
+your hurry, eh?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Patience, how can you?&#8221; demanded Elsie.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t mean to be rude,&#8221; retorted Patience
+serenely, &#8220;only I wouldn&#8217;t have him
+miss that man.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I can take a hint.&#8221; Druce started for
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span>
+the gate. As he reached it he turned back
+to the two girls and added:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I sure hope that man keeps his appointment
+to meet me at eight o&#8217;clock.&#8221;
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='VII_HARRY_BOLAND_HEARS_FROM_HIS_FATHER' id='VII_HARRY_BOLAND_HEARS_FROM_HIS_FATHER'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+<h3>HARRY BOLAND HEARS FROM HIS FATHER</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Harry Boland strode away from
+his interview with Patience deeply
+occupied with tumultuous reflections, not seeing
+the beauties of Millville which, but a short
+time before, he had been enthusiastically celebrating.
+He was, in fact, a young man walking
+in a dream. Every word the girl had
+uttered, every inflection of her voice, the
+involuntary confession of affection won from
+her by his own no less sudden avowal of love,
+projected themselves against his excited mind
+with all the vividness of kinetoscope pictures.
+He was very happy with these reflections that
+come to the youth in love when a familiar
+voice suddenly recalled him to mundane
+things.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello, there Harry,&#8221; said the voice.
+</p>
+<p>It was Grogan&#8217;s.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello,&#8221; replied Harry, roused but not displeased
+to meet his father&#8217;s intimate political
+adviser in this part of the world, &#8220;what are
+you doing in this part of Illinois?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m on my way home,&#8221; replied Grogan,
+laconically.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, yes, Dad wrote me. You went to
+Kansas City, didn&#8217;t you?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I did. Your father caught me on the wire
+at St. Louis.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What did the governor want?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing much. He told me you were
+here and suggested that I meet you. He
+thought it would be pleasant for us both to
+have company home.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>It dawned on Harry that perhaps his father
+had not been quite disinterested in this.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a good politician, Mike,&#8221; he said
+shortly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is that a compliment now, or a slander
+against my character?&#8221; Grogan demanded,
+smiling.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Neither,&#8221; replied Harry. &#8220;It&#8217;s a fact.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;And why, might I ask, have you recalled
+it at this particular moment?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Because your conversation in this particular
+instance seemed to me to be that of a person
+who was concealing something. Politician&#8217;s
+talk, Grogan, is specious, but notable
+for its reticence.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, Harry,&#8221; returned Grogan, &#8220;your
+own line of talk is not particularly illuminating,
+either.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean, Mike?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, here I am, an old friend of your
+father&#8217;s, mixed up with him in half a dozen
+deals. I&#8217;ve known you ever since you sat in a
+high chair and spooned gruel from a bowl.
+I come on you in this out of the way corner
+and you say never a word of why you&#8217;re here,
+or what you&#8217;re doing. I think Clam is your
+middle name.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why,&#8221; replied Harry, &#8220;I came down to
+Millville to collect some rents.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Only rents?&#8221; queried Grogan pointedly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What the devil do you mean?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Youngsters of your age sometimes amuse
+themselves collecting&mdash;shirtwaists.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Stop that, Grogan,&#8221; retorted Harry
+angrily.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Stop what, me boy?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t like that sort of insinuation.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ho,&#8221; said Grogan, &#8220;angry, eh? Then it&#8217;s
+as I thought. There&#8217;s always fire in the heart
+when a young man flares up about a girl.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Look here, Grogan&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Easy, boy,&#8221; interrupted the older man.
+&#8220;I&#8217;m your friend and I don&#8217;t want to see you
+get into trouble&mdash;with your father, I mean.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did he send you to spy on me?&#8221; demanded
+Harry hotly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not at all,&#8221; returned Grogan suavely,
+&#8220;only he&#8217;s worried.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Worried, what the devil about?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Grogan did not reply.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know I&#8217;ve overstayed my time,&#8221; Harry
+went on, &#8220;but some of these people have been
+difficult. I couldn&#8217;t throw them into the street
+when they promised to pay and&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know, I know,&#8221; put in Grogan. &#8220;It&#8217;s
+not about you. Your father&#8217;s worried about
+business. One of these crazy reform waves
+has started in Chicago. A vice investigating
+committee is raising ructions.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean by a reform wave?
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span>
+What can a vice investigating committee have
+to do with my father?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, you see,&#8221; Grogan was picking his
+words carefully, &#8220;your father has large interests.
+An investigation of that sort unsettles
+business.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What started the reform wave?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;A girl.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;A what?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I said a girl,&#8221; replied Grogan evenly.
+</p>
+<p>Harry laughed.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; said Grogan, &#8220;they all laughed at
+her at first, just as you are doing now. But
+the joke is beginning to lose its point.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who is she?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Her name,&#8221; returned Grogan, &#8220;is Mary
+Randall.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mary Randall,&#8221; repeated Harry. The
+words meant nothing to him. &#8220;Who is she?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; replied Grogan. &#8220;I&#8217;ve
+never met the lady. That&#8217;s the mystery of her
+and she&#8217;s keeping it well. She belongs to the
+Randalls of Chicago&mdash;society folk&mdash;that&#8217;s all
+I know. But she isn&#8217;t one of these Michigan
+boulevard tea party reformers. They just
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span>
+talk. She goes out and delivers the goods.
+She&#8217;s a fighter.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Harry laughed again. &#8220;This is good,&#8221; he
+said. &#8220;An unknown girl, a society bud, working
+single handed stirs up Chicago until she
+gets all of you alleged smart politicians worrying.
+Grogan, I&#8217;m going to write a comedy
+about that.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you now?&#8221; said Grogan. &#8220;Well, I
+don&#8217;t approve of your idea. It&#8217;s not funny.
+The other night they raided the Baker Club
+and when they came into court they had
+evidence enough to hang them all. This Randall
+girl had worked in the club for a month
+as a waitress and she KNEW.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Still, Mike, that shouldn&#8217;t affect father.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not directly&mdash;no,&#8221; replied Grogan, again
+picking his words with care, &#8220;but it gives the
+whole city an unsteady feeling. People won&#8217;t
+invest their money. If I were in your place,
+my boy, I&#8217;d go home.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m off tomorrow in my new car. Better
+come with me.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Make it tonight and I will,&#8221; replied
+Grogan.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re on,&#8221; agreed Harry. &#8220;We&#8217;ll go tonight.&#8221;
+He surveyed the sky. &#8220;It&#8217;s going to
+storm,&#8221; he said; &#8220;but even if it does, unless
+there&#8217;s a flood the roads will be good. We&#8217;ll
+go tonight.&#8221;
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='VIII_THE_DEATH_OF_TOM_WELCOME' id='VIII_THE_DEATH_OF_TOM_WELCOME'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+<h3>THE DEATH OF TOM WELCOME</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Both Harry Boland and Grogan fell
+silent after having reached their agreement
+to return to Chicago immediately. To
+a degree both men regretted the decision.
+</p>
+<p>Grogan had accomplished the purpose for
+which the elder Boland had despatched him
+to Millville&mdash;that of disentangling Harry
+from his romance&mdash;but what he had seen of
+Patience Welcome had led him to dislike his
+task.
+</p>
+<p>Harry had no sooner promised to drive back
+to Chicago in the night than he was assailed
+with yearning to see the girl again. Each
+occupied himself with his own thoughts. Dusk
+descended on the village. They had reached
+the corner of the street that led to their hotel
+when they were arrested by a maudlin voice.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m all right, I tell you, Harve.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span></p>
+<p>Two men came out from beneath the shadow
+of the trees and could be seen dimly under the
+sickly gleam of a street light. One leaned
+heavily against the other.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure, you&#8217;re all right,&#8221; replied the drunken
+man&#8217;s companion in a voice both recognized as
+that of Harvey Spencer. &#8220;I&#8217;m just going to
+see you as far as your house.&#8221; He spoke in
+the voice people use in humoring drunken men
+and children.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hain&#8217;t drunk, Harve,&#8221; insisted Harvey&#8217;s
+companion.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course, you ain&#8217;t,&#8221; replied Harvey,
+&#8220;come on.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m just overcome with the heat. I&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The reeling man broke off suddenly. He
+saw Harry and Grogan.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who the devil are you?&#8221; he demanded
+truculently.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;My name is Harry Boland,&#8221; replied the
+young man.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, the son of John Boland, eh?&#8221; jeered
+the drunken man. &#8220;Son of John Boland,
+&#8217;lectric light king. John Boland&#8217;s son, eh?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; replied Harry sharply, &#8220;what of it?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing I can prove,&#8221; retorted Welcome,
+grimly, &#8220;only&mdash;give my regards to your father.
+Just tell him Tom Welcome sends his regards.
+He&#8217;ll know.&#8221; He began to whimper softly.
+&#8220;Poor old Tom Welcome, who might have
+been riding in his carriage this day.&#8221; He
+stopped whining abruptly and snarled at the
+young man: &#8220;If there was any justice on
+God&#8217;s earth&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Welcome lurched forward. Harry grasped
+his wrist and peered into his bloated face.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean by that?&#8221; he demanded.
+</p>
+<p>Grogan interrupted a good deal agitated.
+&#8220;He doesn&#8217;t mean anything,&#8221; he said, &#8220;he&#8217;s
+just drunk. Come, boy, let&#8217;s get out of here.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I want to know&mdash;&#8221; persisted Harry, but he
+dropped Welcome&#8217;s arm.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t be a fool,&#8221; commanded Grogan,
+&#8220;can&#8217;t you see the man&#8217;s drunk? Come on.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;But I tell you I want to know&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, you don&#8217;t know anything!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Harry was about to retort angrily when
+Grogan seized his wrist with an iron grip and
+swung him around the corner. Half dragging
+the young man along with him he got him to
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span>
+the hotel. There Grogan succeeded in convincing
+him of the folly of engaging in a street
+argument with a dipsomaniac he did not
+know.
+</p>
+<p>Meanwhile Harvey and Welcome continued
+their slow and stumbling journey to the Welcome
+cottage. Welcome, after his interview
+with Harry Boland was in a savage mood. A
+debauch of two days had left him virtually
+a mad man. It required all of Harvey&#8217;s
+diplomacy to get him into his house quietly.
+</p>
+<p>The lights were burning in the living room
+when they arrived. Harvey convoyed his
+swaying companion to the back of the house,
+opened the door quietly and pushed him in.
+Mrs. Welcome and the two girls were in the
+living room, but the wind was sighing without
+and they heard nothing. A storm had come
+up with the setting of the sun and occasional
+flashes of lightning lighted the darkened room
+where Welcome found himself while the
+thunder deadened the sound of his stumbling
+feet. He made his way through the kitchen
+to a bedroom and sank down exhausted on a
+bed.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span></p>
+<p>But Tom Welcome could not sleep. Every
+nerve in his body jangled. The interview
+with young Boland, for reasons which will be
+apparent to the reader later, had aroused in
+him a smouldering anger. He tossed restlessly
+on his couch.
+</p>
+<p>While he lay there he heard some one knocking
+at the front door. All of his perceptions
+had grown abnormally keen. He heard a
+boy&#8217;s voice and recognized it as that of a
+neighbor&#8217;s son.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s me, Jimmie,&#8221; said the boy. &#8220;Pa sent
+me over with Elsie&#8217;s veil. She dropped it
+while she was out in the auto this afternoon.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He heard the door close and then the accusing
+voice of his wife demanding:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Elsie, who have you been out with, automobiling?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I was out this afternoon with Martin
+Druce,&#8221; replied the girl defiantly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then,&#8221; went on the mother, conscious that
+a crisis of some sort between her and her
+daughter was approaching, &#8220;you were talking
+to him this evening and not to Harvey
+Spencer? You told me a falsehood?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;What if I did?&#8221; Elsie&#8217;s tone was low and
+stubborn.
+</p>
+<p>Mrs. Welcome began to sob.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mother, mother,&#8221; pleaded Patience, &#8220;Elsie
+didn&#8217;t mean&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I did mean it,&#8221; flared back Elsie. &#8220;I did
+mean it! Why shouldn&#8217;t I go autoing when
+I have the chance? Isn&#8217;t life in Millville hard
+enough without&mdash;&#8221; She paused overcome by
+a wave of passion. &#8220;I&#8217;m tired of Millville,&#8221;
+she exclaimed, &#8220;I&#8217;m tired of the factory. I&#8217;m
+tired of living here as we do in this miserable,
+tumble-down place we call home. I&#8217;m tired
+of working like a slave, while a drunken
+father&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The words had scarcely left the girl&#8217;s lips
+when Tom Welcome, red-eyed, dishevelled,
+swaying, appeared in the doorway behind her.
+His face was lit with demoniac passion. He
+rushed at the girl and she screamed in terror.
+With a vicious lunge he struck her down and
+then, seizing her by the hair, dragged her into
+the bedroom where, amid her cries, he rained
+blow after blow upon her.
+</p>
+<p>Harvey Spencer, just passing through the
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span>
+gate, heard the first scream. He rushed back
+into the house as Welcome, finished for the
+moment with Elsie, had returned to the cottage
+living room and was approaching his wife
+menacingly. He seized the raging man by
+the collar and hurled him into a corner.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Stay there,&#8221; he said, &#8220;or I&#8217;ll brain you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Welcome stood for a moment glaring at the
+intruder. He attempted to speak, but foam
+flecked his lips and seemed to choke his voice.
+His eyes acquired a fixed and unearthly stare.
+He raised his fist as though to strike and then
+plunged headlong to the floor.
+</p>
+<p>Patience was the first to reach her father&#8217;s
+side. A vivid flash of lightning followed by
+a terrific detonation of thunder rocked the
+cottage.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s dying,&#8221; screamed Patience.
+</p>
+<p>Mrs. Welcome, forgetting past injuries,
+sprang to her husband&#8217;s side.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tom,&#8221; she wailed, &#8220;speak to me. Tom&mdash;Tom,
+I&#8217;m your wife&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The dying man tried to sit up. His mania
+had passed. He patted his wife&#8217;s shoulder
+feebly and smiled. A great weakness had
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span>
+come into his face. &#8220;Forgive me,&#8221; he said,
+&#8220;I didn&#8217;t know&mdash;I didn&#8217;t know what I was
+doing. It was the drink. I am going. Call
+Elsie!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Patience sprang toward the bedroom, but it
+was empty. The open doors through the
+kitchen showed how she had fled. As she
+searched frantically for her sister, the little
+clock on the mantel slowly struck the hour of
+eight.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s gone,&#8221; cried Patience. A premonition
+of the tragedy of Elsie&#8217;s flight flashed
+upon her mind. &#8220;Oh,&#8221; she cried, &#8220;my little
+lost sister! My little lost sister!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gone,&#8221; cried Harvey. &#8220;Gone where?&#8221;
+He opened the door. The rain was falling
+pitilessly. &#8220;Not out into this storm. Someone
+must find her.&#8221; He rushed out into the
+darkness.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gone!&#8221; echoed Tom Welcome. His voice
+was hollow as a knell. The drink-racked body
+stiffened in a spasm and then dropped limply
+into his weeping wife&#8217;s arms. &#8220;Gone!&#8221; he
+gasped.
+</p>
+<p>Tom Welcome was dead.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span></p>
+<p>Another flash of lightning and a roar of
+thunder. The two women strove to revive the
+corpse. At last the dreadful realization came
+to them that Tom Welcome would never speak
+again. The wind smote the cottage and the
+light in the single lamp in the room fluttered
+as though in mortal terror. The skies were
+shattered with a final climactic crash of
+thunder. The mother and daughter, alone in
+that chamber of death, clung to each other
+silently feeling themselves isolated from all
+mankind, with even the elements storming
+against them.
+</p>
+<p>While they waited, blanched and terror-stricken,
+for the last reverberations of the
+thunder, the whistle of the Fast Express,
+bound from Millville to the great city, rose
+wildly on the air, like the scream of an exultant
+demon, and died away in a series of weird
+and mocking echoes into the night.
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='IX_IN_WHICH_SOME_OF_CHICAGO_S_BEST_PEOPLE_ESSAY_A_TASK_TOO_BIG_FOR_THEM' id='IX_IN_WHICH_SOME_OF_CHICAGO_S_BEST_PEOPLE_ESSAY_A_TASK_TOO_BIG_FOR_THEM'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+<h3>IN WHICH SOME OF CHICAGO&#8217;S BEST PEOPLE<br />ESSAY A TASK TOO BIG FOR THEM</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Lucas Randall inserted his key
+into the door and let himself into his
+Michigan boulevard residence. The butler,
+busy in one of the reception rooms, looked up
+merely to nod a welcome as he entered. Mr.
+Randall turned to the mirror in the hallway.
+He saw the reflection of a man sixty years of
+age, gray but well preserved, intelligent but
+not forceful.
+</p>
+<p>As he turned from the glass he saw his wife
+descending the broad stairs. She was small
+and fragile. In her youth she had had a delicate
+pink and gold beauty. The years had
+worn away the pink and the gold but had left
+a spirituality that seemed even finer.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m glad you&#8217;re home early, Luke dear,&#8221;
+he heard her saying. Then noticing his air of
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span>
+abstraction she added: &#8220;Did you forget after
+all, Luke?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Forget,&#8221; he repeated blankly, &#8220;forget
+what, Lucy?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh you man!&#8221; replied his wife as if man
+were a word of reproach. &#8220;The church committee
+is to be here this afternoon to formulate
+its report on vice conditions.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, that!&#8221; Mr. Randall chuckled. &#8220;Yes,
+I had forgotten, but anyhow I made it, you
+see. How&#8217;s Mary?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very well&mdash;&#8221; Mrs. Randall broke off
+suddenly. There was a troubled look in her
+eyes. Then she added lightly almost to herself:
+&#8220;What a queer child!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Queer?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Luke, queer,&#8221; returned Mrs. Randall.
+Again that troubled look. &#8220;Luke, dear,
+I want to make a confession. I don&#8217;t understand
+Mary. After your brother Henry died,
+when we insisted that Mary come and live
+with us, it seemed wicked to leave her in that
+great house alone&mdash;and we have no children.
+Now, there are times I am almost sorry we
+did it. It isn&#8217;t that I want to criticise Mary&#8221;&mdash;noticing
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span>
+her husband&#8217;s look of surprise&mdash;&#8220;I
+know she loves us both and yet&mdash;well, I have
+the feeling that we don&#8217;t really know her.
+The intimacy I had longed for hasn&#8217;t developed.
+She seems to live a part of her time in
+another world than ours.&#8221; She broke off
+again, laughing nervously. &#8220;Do you know,&#8221;
+she said, &#8220;I sometimes have the feeling that
+Mary lives a sort of double life&mdash;nothing
+evil, you know&mdash;but uncanny. She&#8217;s not unkind
+nor lacking in affection for either of us,
+but often when we are together it seems to me
+that her mind is miles away.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Queer, eh?&#8221; said Mr. Randall, sympathetically.
+&#8220;Well, her father was like that.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s not strange if she is like her father,&#8221;
+charged Mrs. Randall. &#8220;He brought her up
+like a boy. After her mother died she was
+more like a chum to him than a daughter.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Lucas Randall became meditative.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The church work, now,&#8221; he asked, &#8220;does
+she seem interested?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;At first I think she was. I took her on
+some of my regular poor people calls. She
+seemed interested&mdash;too interested. Why, one
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span>
+day I lost her in a tenement on Kosciusko
+street. I had to come home without her, half
+wild with anxiety. She rushed in an hour
+later and when I questioned her as to where
+she had been she replied that she had found a
+poor Scotch family and had been so interested
+that she had forgotten me. &#8216;Forgotten&#8217;&mdash;that&#8217;s
+the very word she used. She said she
+had been &#8216;seeking the causes of poverty.&#8217; I
+told her poverty came from people being poor,
+but that did not seem to satisfy her. She
+asked me why they were poor. I answered
+that often it was because they were shiftless.
+&#8216;Not always,&#8217; she replied, &#8216;these Scotch people,
+aunt, dear, were strangely like you and me.&#8217;
+She spoke as if I were the one who did not
+understand.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;And since then?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, she has seemed to prefer going
+alone.&#8221; Mrs. Randall paused on the verge of
+a new confession. &#8220;Luke, dear,&#8221; she went on
+hurriedly, &#8220;Mary goes into sections of the city
+you have warned me not to visit!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not the Levee?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just that.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Good Lord,&#8221; ejaculated Mr. Randall,
+&#8220;surely she doesn&#8217;t go alone?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, except for her maid.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;That girl she took from the Refuge?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Anna.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where is Mary now?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;In her room.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;ll come down to the committee meeting,
+I suppose?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I asked her and she replied that of course
+she would come.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Has she been out today, Lucy?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nearly all day.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Calls, I suppose.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, she&#8217;s been attending the hearings of
+the vice commission.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;In God&#8217;s name, why?&#8221; Mr. Randall was
+really disturbed.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I asked her that very question. She replied
+that the proceedings interested her.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Heavens!&#8221; Mr. Randall paced the room.
+&#8220;&#8216;Interested&#8217; her! A girl with an income she
+can&#8217;t possibly spend, a girl who might have
+anything, do anything, go anywhere, marry
+any man&mdash;&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span></p>
+<p>He broke off suddenly. &#8220;Lucy,&#8221; he demanded,
+&#8220;is there any man Mary might care
+for? That good looking young curate, for
+instance?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Mrs. Randall shook her head emphatically.
+&#8220;No, Luke,&#8221; she said. &#8220;If you were to ask me
+to name the two things Mary never gives a
+thought to I&#8217;d say men and matrimony. And
+that&#8217;s another thing about her I cannot
+fathom.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Further confidences were cut short by the
+entrance of the butler announcing the Rev.
+Thomas Brattle, a clergyman of sixty with an
+old fashioned flowing white beard, small white
+hands and shiny gold-bowed spectacles, and
+Marvin Lattimer, a business man with a turn
+for religious activities. Desultory conversation
+followed broken by the entrance of Mrs.
+Sumnet-Ives, a well preserved woman of
+forty and a social power, and Miss Emma
+Laforth, slender, dark, intelligent looking and
+gifted with a political acumen that had given
+her an unassailable position in women&#8217;s club
+circles. They were escorted by Grove Evans,
+plump, wealthy, well born, mildly interested
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span>
+in reform because reform was the proper
+thing, and Wyat Carp, a lawyer with literary
+tendencies.
+</p>
+<p>Greetings and small talk; then Lucas Randall
+led the way to the library. There the
+Rev. Mr. Brattle, clearing his throat in an
+official manner, established himself before a
+priceless seventeenth century table of carved
+mahogany.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The meeting will come to order,&#8221; he announced.
+</p>
+<p>A circle of chairs had been drawn up before
+the table. The committee members occupied
+them with a subdued rustle of garments. The
+Rev. Mr. Brattle watched the circle benignly,
+waiting for a moment of total silence. When
+he spoke his voice was smooth, finely modulated,
+pitched in the right key. His manner,
+in fact, was perfect. Indeed, in the spacious
+luxury of Lucas Randall&#8217;s fine library no one
+could have appeared to better advantage.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dear friends,&#8221; he said, beaming about him,
+&#8220;we are gathered here, as you know, to formulate
+the report of our investigation into vice
+conditions. You have labored long and faithfully.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span>
+Now the time has come to put forth
+the fruit of your labors in a form at once concrete
+and illuminating.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He paused, then continued:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The problem we are approaching is world-old.
+Mankind has struggled with it intermittently
+since civilization began. Apparently
+we have made no progress. The twentieth
+century, in fact, with its terrific congestion in
+cities, its vast consumption of nervous energy
+and its universal commercialism, has complicated
+our problem. But with these new complications
+have come new means for warring
+against the evil. Intelligence on the subject
+is more general. Fine minds everywhere are
+addressing themselves to the riddle. Thus it
+seems that humanity is at last coming to grips
+with the traffic in women. Who knows but
+that out of this little gathering may not be
+evolved some theory which, injected into the
+circulation of modern life, shall immunize us
+against this social malady.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>There was subdued applause.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;As my time has been somewhat occupied,&#8221;
+the clergyman went on, &#8220;I have asked Mr.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span>
+Carp to employ his well known literary gift
+in formulating our report. Let me add that
+I have read our brother&#8217;s resumé of our investigations
+and endorse it fully as to the facts
+found.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Meanwhile Wyat Carp, with his best poet&#8217;s
+air, had arisen and bowed to the little circle.
+He laid a terrifying number of manuscript
+sheets on the table and polished his glasses
+with his silk handkerchief. His was the subdued
+manner of a surgeon about to perform
+an operation and, it must be confessed, his
+audience felt some of the sensations of the
+patient.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;My friends,&#8221; began Wyat Carp, &#8220;in putting
+before you what I trust you may see fit
+to adopt as our united report I am naturally
+moved by a feeling of delicacy&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He paused, for directly behind the little
+circle of hearers the heavy curtains had been
+pushed aside, and a girl stood framed there
+against the dull red of the draperies. She was
+rather above medium height, with a figure
+rounded by exercise, a face oval and lighted
+by deep blue eyes underneath masses of burnished,
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span>
+coppery hair. Her personality seemed
+to fill the room. She breathed wholesomeness,
+vigor, sincerity and purpose.
+</p>
+<p>As Lucas Randall half started from his
+chair the girl put out her hand and checked
+him.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, Uncle Luke,&#8221; she said, &#8220;don&#8217;t disturb
+yourself. I&#8217;ve been standing just outside the
+door for several minutes waiting for a moment
+to slip in quietly.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>She bowed to them all, and seated herself
+near the window overlooking the boulevard.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just go on with the report, Mr. Carp,&#8221; she
+said, &#8220;I assure you I am most eager to hear it.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Wyat Carp coughed gently and picked up
+his manuscript.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thank you, Miss Randall,&#8221; he began
+gravely, &#8220;I&mdash;I&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You were saying that you were moved by
+a feeling of delicacy,&#8221; prompted the girl.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thank you, Miss Randall.&#8221; Mr. Carp
+bowed. &#8220;I&mdash;er&mdash;am experiencing a feeling
+of embarrassment because this is a meeting of
+both sexes and the subject is one which, only
+recently, has been discussed in mixed company.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span>
+When one so young as yourself is
+present&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh,&#8221; replied the girl, a shade of amusement
+in her voice, &#8220;please don&#8217;t let my youth
+interfere with our deliberations. I assure you
+that, young as I may appear to be, I am quite
+familiar with the matter we have under consideration.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>This remarkable declaration caused something
+of a real sensation. Mrs. Sumnet-Ives
+mentally put the speaker down as &#8220;a pert little
+chit.&#8221; Grove Evans was amused, for he disliked
+Carp. Mrs. Randall catalogued it as
+another ebullition of Mary&#8217;s queerness; even
+her uncle, despite an affection that accepted
+everything Mary did as right and proper, felt
+himself a little shocked. As for Miss Laforth,
+she favored Miss Randall with a long,
+inventorying inspection. Here, she reflected,
+might be a future political rival.
+</p>
+<p>Mr. Carp began to read slowly with here
+and there a pause to enable his audience to
+catch a subtle turn of phrase or the flowing
+rhythm of his periods. He read while the
+light grew fainter and the fire glowed more
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span>
+brightly, read until Lucas Randall leaned
+across the table and switched on the light in
+the great brass lamp.
+</p>
+<p>Mary Randall, deep in her easy chair beside
+the window and lulled by the soporific monotone
+of Mr. Carp&#8217;s voice, saw the afternoon
+darken into dusk and the dusk deepen into
+night. Before her half-closed eyes the city,
+slowly but purposefully, began to throw off
+the habiliments of day and don the tinsel of
+evening. One by one, from far down the
+spacious avenue, the street lamps glowed into
+bulbs of color which the wet asphalt, like a
+winding black mirror, caught up and flung
+against the polished finishings of a swift and
+silent train of automobiles and the windows
+of the nearby mansions.
+</p>
+<p>And still Wyat Carp read on and on, skirting
+the outer circle of forbidden subjects, leading
+up to closed doors he made no attempt to
+open, expatiating voluminously on conditions
+that all the world knew, elucidating the
+obvious, ranging from one platitude to another&mdash;and
+avoiding the vital and concrete as
+though it were poisonous. And as Mr. Carp
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span>
+read Mary became oppressed with his total
+futility.
+</p>
+<p>Mrs. Ives risked a hasty glance at her
+jeweled wrist watch.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Doesn&#8217;t the man know it&#8217;s nearly time to
+dine?&#8221; she wondered.
+</p>
+<p>Grove Evans, with a dinner engagement at
+the club and a place bespoken in a quiet poker
+game afterward, squirmed in his chair and
+cursed Wyat Carp silently. Finally, with a
+last rhetorical flourish, Mr. Carp quite suddenly
+ended. He sat down amid a murmur of
+applause.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wonderful,&#8221; exclaimed Mrs. Ives. She
+was agreeably astonished that Mr. Carp should
+ever have finished.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very full, concise and to the point,&#8221; was
+Miss Laforth&#8217;s verdict.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Great!&#8221; announced Grove Evans, really
+delighted, for he would be in time for dinner
+at the club after all.
+</p>
+<p>The Rev. Thomas Brattle gazed about the
+circle with a bland smile. &#8220;I am glad,&#8221; he
+said, &#8220;to have my judgment indorsed by such
+excellent critics.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span></p>
+<p>Then, rapping gently on the table, he
+glanced about him. &#8220;A motion is in order
+before we adjourn, my friends,&#8221; he stated,
+expectantly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I move Mr. Carp&#8217;s report be adopted as it
+stands,&#8221; said Marvin Lattimer breathlessly.
+He had waited patiently all afternoon to speak
+just those words. His business judgment, as
+applied to social affairs, had taught him the
+wisdom of getting into the record. He was
+only a recent confidant of this inner circle of
+All Souls and he aspired to remain where he
+was. Besides, it would be something to tell
+the socially ambitious Mrs. Lattimer when he
+got home. There was a second from Miss
+Laforth.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You hear the motion,&#8221; breathed the
+reverend chairman. &#8220;Those in favor will
+please say &#8216;aye.&#8217;&#8221; As they all responded he
+beamed upon them. He turned with a deprecatory
+glance to Carp. &#8220;And as a matter of
+form, those contrary minded will please
+signify by saying &#8216;no.&#8217;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He waited a moment. Quite clearly and
+distinctly Mary Randall spoke:
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;No!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The tiny monosyllable seemed to echo and
+reecho through the high-ceiled room. There
+was a most embarrassing silence.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mary,&#8221; faltered Mrs. Randall.
+</p>
+<p>Mary came over and pressed her hand
+against her aunt&#8217;s shoulder. &#8220;Believe me,&#8221;
+she said, &#8220;I don&#8217;t mean to wound you. You
+don&#8217;t understand.&#8221; Then turning to the Rev.
+Mr. Brattle, she went on: &#8220;But I must insist
+that my vote in the negative be recorded in the
+minutes of this meeting.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;May I inquire the cause of your&mdash;er&mdash;peculiar
+attitude?&#8221; asked the clergyman.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you think that fair, Dr. Brattle?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Possibly not fair, but perhaps our curiosity
+is pardonable.&#8221; There was suppressed sarcasm
+in his retort.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;In your little speech of introduction, my
+dear doctor,&#8221; said the girl, &#8220;you advanced the
+suggestion that this meeting might evolve
+some theory that would rid society of the social
+evil. The great trouble with this report is
+that it is all theory. I have no quarrel with
+the facts that Mr. Carp has given us, except
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span>
+that they are old&mdash;&#8216;world old,&#8217; as I think you
+said. Weeks have been spent on this investigation
+and yet there is not one word&mdash;not a
+single word&mdash;that answers the appeal going
+up in this city day after day from thousands
+of unfortunate women. We sit here, after
+weeks of investigation, and listen to a homily.
+The time is past in Chicago for homilies. The
+question is: What are we going to do about
+it? Helpless thousands are asking us that
+question and we answer it with a treatise full
+of &#8216;world-old&#8217; truth and full of &#8216;theory.&#8217; Mr.
+Carp speaks of the resorts on Dunkirk street
+being &#8216;questionable&#8217;&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;They are questionable,&#8221; defended Mr.
+Carp stoutly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Questionable, Mr. Carp,&#8221; replied Mary,
+&#8220;is a gentle word. These resorts are a shrieking
+infamy. They are markets in which young
+girls are sold like cattle.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;How do you know that?&#8221; demanded Grove
+Evans, almost rudely. He felt his club appointment
+slipping away from him and the
+poker game owed him two hundred dollars.
+</p>
+<p>Mary looked from her aunt to her uncle.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I know,&#8221; she replied, &#8220;because I have been
+there. I know because I myself bought four
+girls there!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The company gasped its surprise.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I told them I was &#8216;in the business&#8217; in
+Seattle,&#8221; the speaker continued. &#8220;I told them
+I wanted to buy. I asked for four girls&mdash;four
+young girls. They sold me four for one hundred
+dollars each.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>There was a silence for a long moment. It
+was broken by Marvin Lattimer.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Impossible!&#8221; he exclaimed.
+</p>
+<p>Mary looked at him sadly. &#8220;There is one
+fact more impossible than that, Mr. Lattimer,&#8221;
+she said. &#8220;It is that men of the world
+like you&mdash;men who, above all others, should
+make it their business to know these things,&mdash;cry
+out &#8216;Impossible!&#8217; when such a fact is
+exhibited before you in all its hideousness.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You should have had the man who sold
+those girls arrested,&#8221; blurted Grove Evans.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I did,&#8221; replied Mary quietly, &#8220;and <i>The
+Reporter</i>, in which you are a part owner, suppressed
+publication of the fact. I had the
+man arrested and Jim Edwards, the politician
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span>
+who holds the district in the hollow of his hand,
+prevented the case from going to trial. That
+man walks the streets of Chicago free and
+without bond.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The girl turned to Dr. Brattle again.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Doctor,&#8221; she said, &#8220;you are a clergyman.
+You are the shepherd of the flock. Are you,
+too, deaf to the appeal that goes up daily from
+the sinks of this city,&mdash;from hundreds of
+ruined girls? Do you, too, stand by while
+wolves rend the lambs? Do you deny the
+existence of the wolf?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;We can only strive to educate these
+women, to teach them the error of their way,&#8221;
+pleaded the shepherd.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;But, doctor, while you are educating one,
+the wolves are tearing down twenty. They
+&#8216;educate,&#8217; too, and their facilities are better
+than yours.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The girl stopped breathlessly and, stooping
+swiftly, kissed her aunt. There were tears in
+her eyes.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t worry about me,&#8221; she said.
+</p>
+<p>Then suddenly she crossed the room and
+threw open the door. The maid, Anna, stood
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span>
+there with a satchel at her feet and Mary&#8217;s
+cloak upon her arm. Mary picked up the
+satchel and turned toward the street door.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The time for theory alone is over,&#8221; she
+said, addressing the company. &#8220;Someone has
+got to go into action against the wolves.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The door swung behind her and she stepped
+out into the boulevard.
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='X_THE_ADVENTURES_OF_A_NEWSPAPER_STORY' id='X_THE_ADVENTURES_OF_A_NEWSPAPER_STORY'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER X</h2>
+<h3>THE ADVENTURES OF A NEWSPAPER STORY</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Great cities thrive on sensations. The
+yellow journal with its blatant enthusiasms
+and its brazen effrontery finds a
+congenial habitat there, not because it is
+brazen, nor even because it is enthusiastic, but
+because it supplies a community need. The
+screaming headline is a mental cocktail. Bellowed
+forth by a trombone-lunged newsboy,
+it crashes against the eye, the ear and the brain
+simultaneously. It whips up tired nerves. It
+keys the crowd to the keen tension necessary
+for the doing of the city&#8217;s business. And the
+crowd likes it. Fed hourly on mental stimulants,
+it becomes a slave to its newspapers.
+</p>
+<p>On the morning after Mary Randall&#8217;s
+dramatic exit from her uncle&#8217;s mansion
+Chicago awoke and clutched at the morning
+papers with all the eagerness of a drunkard
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span>
+reaching for his dram. A hint of a powerful
+new thrill lay in the half disclosed first pages.
+Black headings and &#8220;freaked&#8221; makeup meant
+but one thing&mdash;a big story.
+</p>
+<p>And Chicago was not disappointed. Occupying
+the place of honor on the first pages of
+all of the morning sheets was the announcement
+of a new assault upon the Vice Trust.
+To the crowd the name Mary Randall meant
+nothing. It knew little of her and cared less.
+But the idea of a young girl, beautiful, socially
+prominent, immensely wealthy in her own
+right, declaring war single-handed on a monster
+so mightily armored and intrenched and
+so brutally strong as the Vice Trust appealed
+instantly to the crowd&#8217;s imagination. In the
+crowd&#8217;s thought, at least, the girl became a
+heroine. And though the man in the street
+openly wearing an air of cheap cynicism spoke
+of her as &#8220;another crazy reformer&#8221; or as a
+&#8220;notoriety-hunting crank,&#8221; secretly he responded
+to the enthusiasm of the headline
+writer who announced her as a &#8220;modern Joan
+of Arc.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Mary had given out the story herself. A
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span>
+simple letter from her to the city editors announcing
+that she had left her home and all
+the luxuries that such a home implied and,
+accompanied only by a maid, had set forth on
+a war of extermination against the &#8220;vice ring&#8221;
+had been sufficient to set every local room in
+the city in a frenzy. Re-write men and head
+writers had done the rest. Every newspaper
+recorded the launching of her adventure with
+a luxuriance of illustration and a variety of
+detail that left nothing more to be said on the
+subject. Mary had counted rather shrewdly
+on this. She possessed, among her other
+natural gifts, a keen judgment of news values.
+She knew, too, the immense power of the
+press. By enlisting the agencies of publicity
+behind her she had multiplied her forces a
+thousand-fold. At the end of her letter Mary
+had written a modest appeal to the public.
+Every newspaper printed it under display
+type. It read as follows:
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span></p>
+<div class='ce'>
+<p>&#8220;<i>TO THE MEN AND WOMEN OF CHICAGO.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Our city, which should be the heart of
+American honor, is in the grip of a hideous
+System. So quietly and surely has this
+monster worked that our civic blood is
+poisoned. It feeds upon youth, innocence and
+purity&mdash;all that we as decent citizens love best.
+I call upon you all to stand by me now in my
+fight to kill the White Slave Traffic.</i>
+</p>
+<div class='ra'>
+<p style='text-align: right; '>&#8220;<i>Mary Randall.</i>&#8221;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Grove Evans read that appeal through and
+smiled at its naïveté. Then he looked across
+his office to his partner, William Brierly, a
+younger man with pompadour hair and an
+habitual air of immense self-satisfaction.
+Brierly was reading the same story in another
+newspaper. He, too, looked up and smiled.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know this girl, don&#8217;t you, Grove?&#8221;
+Brierly asked. &#8220;By George, she must be interesting.
+A new kind of female maniac, eh?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve met her,&#8221; responded Evans. &#8220;She
+was at the Country Club during trophy match
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span>
+last fall. Carries herself like a queen. I
+remember your raving about her.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah,&#8221; Brierly&#8217;s derisive smile faded. &#8220;That
+girl, eh? Say, I saw her make the ninth hole
+in three. That girl! Say, look here, Grove,&#8221;
+he struck the open paper with his palm, &#8220;does
+she mean this stuff?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Evans lighted a cigarette before replying.
+&#8220;She sure does,&#8221; he stated finally. &#8220;I was at
+the Randalls when she delivered her ultimatum
+and took to the war path. Talk about a
+jolt! After she left us, you could hear the
+shades of night falling. For ten minutes we
+sat there exhibiting all the vivacity of a deaf
+and dumb man at a Quaker prayer-meeting.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Brierly laughed. &#8220;Oh, well,&#8221; he said.
+&#8220;She&#8217;ll do what all these suffragettes do&mdash;run
+around in a circle, yell herself tired, then
+marry some fellow and forget it.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He yawned. Evans turned to the huge safe
+and got out a heavy packet of papers.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What are you doing, Grove?&#8221; Brierly
+demanded lazily.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing,&#8221; responded Evans curtly. &#8220;Just
+looking over some of our shady leases.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello!&#8221; said Brierly, getting on his feet.
+&#8220;Are you taking this thing seriously?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Evans turned with a folded paper in his
+hand.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You bet your life I am,&#8221; he replied. &#8220;I
+know this girl. There&#8217;s a strain of wild Irish
+in her and it&#8217;s my opinion that she&#8217;s going to
+raise merry hell!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The dreamer who had visited the Millville
+Button Works with the owner of the mill
+lunched with his friend in the city that day.
+Quite casually, among other items of interest,
+Mary Randall&#8217;s adventure came up for discussion.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know the girl,&#8221; said the mill-owner,
+&#8220;but her announcement gives me a fairly good
+mental picture of her.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s your picture?&#8221; inquired the journalist.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;A rag and a bone and a hank of hair, one
+of these raving suffragettes. Since bomb-throwing
+and burning are not fashionable over
+here, she&#8217;s chosen this means of expending her
+surplus energy.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;My dear friend, you&#8217;re entirely wrong!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;What! You&#8217;ve seen her?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no, but I have quite a different mental
+picture of her. You remember Joan of Arc?
+Mount her on a charger, hand her a sword of
+fire and send her forth to fight for Mary
+Magdalene. That&#8217;s my idea.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve borrowed that from the headline
+writers,&#8221; the mill-owner said.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not at all. I know the type. A thoughtful
+young girl, healthy, cultivated and, by the
+modern miracle, taught how to think. She
+studies vice conditions in Chicago at first hand
+and what she sees turns her into a crusader.
+This girl has spirit. Brought face to face with
+a great evil, moved by the appeal of helpless
+womanhood, she throws aside her veneer of
+false education.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Unsexed!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, if you would say that the crisis in her
+life unsexed Portia. Or the crisis in France&#8217;s
+history unsexed Charlotte Corday.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re fond of historical allusions,&#8221;
+chided the practical man. &#8220;Always the literary
+man, always the dreamer. This girl is a
+disturber. She&#8217;ll unsettle business.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah, there you are. &#8216;Unsettles business.&#8217;
+Did it ever strike you business men that you
+take yourselves too damn seriously? Any
+movement, any agitation that &#8216;unsettles business&#8217;
+is ipse facto wrong. You business men
+have had a hand in the martyring of most of
+the saints and all of the reformers since time
+began. And, invariably, you are wrong.
+Why, you&#8217;re wrong even about yourselves.
+You firmly believe that the foundations of the
+country rest upon you. As a matter of fact,
+not one per cent of you are producers. You&#8217;re
+middlemen, profit shavers, parasites.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;My dear fellow,&#8221; asked his friend, &#8220;where
+would you be if business men&mdash;publishers&mdash;didn&#8217;t
+buy your wares?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ha,&#8221; answered the writer, &#8220;and where
+would the publishers be if I and others didn&#8217;t
+produce the wares to market? It won&#8217;t do.
+The reason the newspapers and magazines of
+this country are so bad is because most of the
+publishers are not newspaper men and magazine
+writers, but merely business men.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I suppose your Joan of Arc will
+have to have her fling. Then life will swing
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span>
+back to its same old channels and we&#8217;ll forget
+her.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, she will have her fling and perhaps
+we&#8217;ll forget her, but life will not swing back
+to the same old channel. She&#8217;ll make a new
+channel, forgotten though she may be, and it
+will be a better channel.&#8221;
+</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>Captain Shammer of the Eighth police district
+read Mary Randall&#8217;s open letter through
+slowly and carefully. When he had finished
+he lighted a long black cigar from a box that
+had been sent him by a world famous confidence
+man. He smoked thoughtfully for
+some time. Then he put out a heavy hand
+and, without looking, pressed a white button
+at the side of his desk.
+</p>
+<p>A sharp-eyed young man opened the
+captain&#8217;s door.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nick,&#8221; said the captain, &#8220;shut that door a
+minute and come over here.&#8221; He pointed to
+the black newspaper headline.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Get that?&#8221; he demanded.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure, first thing this morning, Captain.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;We should worry.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Captain Shammer rolled his cigar in his
+mouth. He wasn&#8217;t exactly satisfied with the
+answer.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right,&#8221; he agreed finally, &#8220;but Nick&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Captain.&#8221; Nick paused alertly, one
+hand on the door knob.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Easy for a while until we see how things
+break on this.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Aye, aye, sir!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Curtains drawn, you know, and back
+rooms quiet. Tell the girls to go slow on the
+piano playing. Did Ike, the dip, come
+across?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not yet, Captain.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Pinch him today and give him the cooler.
+Get me?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s done, cap.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Close in on the stuss games. Pass the word
+to go easy.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I get you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mary Randall, eh?&#8221; asked Captain Shammer
+of vacancy when his aid had gone. &#8220;Mary
+Randall! Well, Mary, you sure have got
+your nerve with you.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span></p>
+<p>Senator Barker was a member of the
+Governor&#8217;s vice investigating committee. The
+committee had been appointed to frame a
+minimum wage law for women. He was a
+person of ponderous bulk and mental equipment.
+He had slipped into office, not because
+the people yearned for him, but because there
+had happened to be a battle on between two
+factions of his natural political opponents in
+the fortunate hour he had selected for aspiring
+to office. Like most other American officeholders
+he spent his days and nights scheming
+out ways to continue living at the public&#8217;s
+expense. He perused Mary Randall&#8217;s screed
+as he sat over his morning grape-fruit.
+</p>
+<p>In an intermission in the committee meeting
+Senator Barker leaned across the heavy oak
+table and pointed out the letter to the Rev.
+Wallace Stillwell.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you see that?&#8221; he inquired huskily.
+</p>
+<p>Mr. Stillwell nodded and drew his thin lips
+together. He was quite young and just now
+carried the burden of having been called from
+an obscure country pulpit to a fashionable
+church in Chicago. He knew that the wealthy
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span>
+man who was his sponsor in this new position
+was interested in whole blocks of houses whose
+curtains were always drawn. He had never
+forgotten a certain phrase that great man had
+used when he came in his own automobile to
+bear the young pastor to the new field of his
+labors.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;We want you, Mr. Stillwell,&#8221; he had said,
+&#8220;because we believe you to be a safe and sane
+man, one who will not be swept off his feet by
+wild-eyed reformers and the anarchistic tendencies
+of the times.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Mr. Stillwell, therefore, knew why he was
+wanted in Chicago. The knowledge made him
+cautious in all things. He thought Senator
+Barker&#8217;s question over carefully. Then he
+nodded calmly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, yes, Senator,&#8221; he answered. &#8220;One
+could hardly avoid reading it.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, what about it?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just what do you mean, Senator?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know. What do you think of it, eh?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It seems to me,&#8221; purred the Rev. Wallace
+Stillwell, &#8220;that the whole exploit is worse than
+fantastic. It is hardly in good taste. Investigations
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span>
+of the kind this girl has undertaken
+ought to be left to the men.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s all right,&#8221; put in the Senator,
+gloomily, &#8220;but I&#8217;ve noticed lately that the
+women don&#8217;t seem to be willing to do that.
+They want to take a hand in such matters
+themselves.&#8221; He leaned back in his chair
+sadly. &#8220;It certainly makes it hard for us
+politicians.&#8221;
+</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>A woman of ample girth and a handmade
+complexion pushed her coffee cup away and
+lighted a fresh cigarette. She had just
+finished reading Mary Randall&#8217;s manifesto.
+Nature had made her beautiful, but advancing
+years and too much art had all but destroyed
+Nature&#8217;s handicraft. She inhaled the acrid
+smoke deeply and then raising her voice,
+called:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Celeste! You, Celeste!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>A mulatto girl threw open the door, crying:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, madame?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What you doing?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cleaning up.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Get a bottle of wine. Or did those high
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span>
+rollers guzzle it all last night, the drunken
+beasts?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, madame. I&#8217;ve saved one for you.&#8221;
+She opened the bottle and placed the effervescent
+liquid before her mistress.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right, Celeste. Anybody up yet?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hardly think so, madame.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I&#8217;m up and I wish I wasn&#8217;t,&#8221; announced
+a girl who appeared at that moment
+coming down the broad staircase. She entered
+the room.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Got a head this morning, eh, Nellie?&#8221; said
+the madame, knowingly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I&#8217;ve got a head,&#8221; replied Nellie sullenly,
+&#8220;and a grouch.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Make it two, Celeste,&#8221; said the madame
+promptly, indicating the bottle. The colored
+maid poured out another glass of the liquor.
+Madame threw the paper across the table to
+the girl.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;There,&#8221; she said, &#8220;that&#8217;s something that
+will make you worse.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where?&#8221; asked the girl, as she caught up
+the paper.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Front page, big headlines. You can&#8217;t
+miss it.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The girl stepped to the window and pushed
+aside the heavy curtain. In the morning light
+she was revealed there petite and charming,
+despite penciled eyebrows and carmined lips.
+Her figure was daintily proportioned. There
+was grace in every line. Her deep brown eyes
+glowed as she read the words Mary Randall
+had written.
+</p>
+<p>When she finished reading the girl
+crumpled the paper in her hand and filled another
+glass. She lifted the wine slowly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Here&#8217;s to you, Mary Randall,&#8221; she said.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s a rotten toast,&#8221; said the madame.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is it?&#8221; replied the girl. &#8220;Well, let me tell
+you something. I&#8217;d like to go straight out of
+this house and find Mary Randall and say to
+her: &#8216;I&#8217;m with you, Mary Randall, and I hope
+to God you win out.&#8217;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t think of me,&#8221; whined the older
+woman. &#8220;Look what a knock that reform
+stuff gives business.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You!&#8221; Nellie&#8217;s temper flared into a flame.
+&#8220;Say, you ought to be in jail! Now don&#8217;t start
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span>
+anything you can&#8217;t finish&mdash;&#8221; The older
+woman had got to her feet menacingly. &#8220;You
+don&#8217;t deserve no pity. You got into this&#8221;&mdash;she
+indicated the gaudily furnished house by
+a gesture, &#8220;with your eyes wide open. You
+picked out this business for yourself. But
+with me it&#8217;s different.&#8221; She leaned across the
+table defiantly. &#8220;Yes, how about me? How
+about Lottie and Emma&mdash;and that poor kid
+that came here happy because she thought
+she&#8217;d found a decent job? Did we pick out
+this business? Did we? Not on your life.
+We walked into a trap and we can&#8217;t get out.
+Yes, and there&#8217;s thousands like us all over this
+country.&#8221; She snatched up the bottle and
+poured more wine. &#8220;I&#8217;m for you, Mary
+Randall,&#8221; she said, raising the glass to the sunlight.
+&#8220;More power to your elbow!&#8221;
+</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+
+<p>Mary Randall read the newspapers in a
+garret room of a tall lodging house. A pile of
+letters, in a peculiar shade of dark blue, sealed,
+stamped and ready for the postoffice, lay in a
+heap before her. She went through each
+newspaper carefully, noting the display and
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span>
+studying the &#8220;features&#8221; of her story that had
+impressed the newspaper men. At last she
+laid them down.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, Anna,&#8221; she said, smiling, addressing
+her maid. &#8220;We&#8217;ve made a good beginning.
+The town, you see, is interested in us.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Anna&#8217;s ordinarily impassive face smiled
+back at her mistress&#8217; enthusiasm. Her blue
+eyes lighted with admiring loyalty. She was
+blonde, big boned and so strongly built as to
+look actually formidable. Competency and
+reserve power fairly radiated from her. Her
+voice betrayed her Scandinavian ancestry.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ya-as,&#8221; she said, &#8220;and in another week
+they&#8217;ll be fighting for us.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Mary got up from her chair and went to the
+window, threw it wide open and looked out on
+the city. She saw its myriad lights rimming
+the shore of the inland sea. She heard its roar&mdash;deep,
+passionate, powerful. In her imagination
+she laid her ear close to the city&#8217;s heart
+and she heard it beat strong and true. The
+smile had left her face and a prayer formed
+itself silently on her lips. The revery lasted
+only a moment.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;And now,&#8221; she said, &#8220;for the next movement
+in the battle.&#8221; She indicated the letters.
+&#8220;There&#8217;s our ammunition, Anna,&#8221; she said.
+&#8220;Mail them. I&#8217;ve picked you for a great
+honor. You&#8217;re to open the engagement with
+a fusillade of bombshells.&#8221;
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XI_A_BOMB_FOR_MR_GROGAN' id='XI_A_BOMB_FOR_MR_GROGAN'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+<h3>A BOMB FOR MR. GROGAN</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>The telephone in the outer office of the
+Lake City Telephone Company rang
+insistently. Miss Masters, the stenographer,
+after the fashion of stenographers, let it ring.
+At length the telephone gave vent to a long,
+shrill, despairing appeal and was silent. Then,
+and then only, did Miss Masters lay aside the
+bundle of letters she was sorting and pick up
+the receiver.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes?&#8221; she said. &#8220;Well, what is it?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Apparently a voice responded.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Speak a little louder, please,&#8221; the girl said
+impersonally. &#8220;I can&#8217;t hear a single word
+you&#8217;re saying.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>More words from the outside poured
+through the receiver.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221; Miss Masters nodded mechanically.
+&#8220;Yes, this is the main office of the Lake City
+Electrical Company. What?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span></p>
+<p>There was another pause.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;This is Miss Masters at the &#8217;phone,&mdash;yes&mdash;yes&mdash;I&#8217;m
+the stenographer. What&#8217;s that?
+Private secretary? Yes, I am Mr. John
+Boland&#8217;s private secretary. No, our president,
+Mr. Harry Boland, has not come downtown
+yet. We are expecting him at any
+moment.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>A red-headed office boy stuck an inquisitive
+head through the door.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who&#8217;s that,&#8221; he demanded, &#8220;someone for
+the boss?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Miss Masters merely motioned him to
+silence.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; she went on, &#8220;his father, Mr. John
+Boland, will be in some time during the morning.
+Who shall I say called?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The girl waited for the answer and hung
+up the receiver.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who is it, Miss Masters?&#8221; inquired the
+boy.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, Dickey, I don&#8217;t think it&#8217;s any of
+your business,&#8221; retorted Miss Masters good-naturedly.
+&#8220;But, for fear you&#8217;ll burst with
+curiosity, I&#8217;ll say that it&#8217;s Mr. Martin Druce.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Happy as a crab this morning, ain&#8217;t you?&#8221;
+jeered the boy. &#8220;Well, you want to look out
+for that geezer, Druce. He&#8217;s a devil with the
+girls.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Miss Masters made a face at him and the
+boy, whistling derisively, disappeared through
+the door, not failing to slam it loudly after
+him.
+</p>
+<p>Miss Masters resumed her letter sorting.
+The door opened slowly. A man entered with
+his hat over his eyes. His hands were deep in
+his pockets and he chewed a despondent looking
+cigar. Had the reader been present he
+would have recognized him instantly, despite
+his unaccustomed air of lugubriousness, as our
+old friend, Mr. Michael Grogan.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good morning, Mr. Grogan,&#8221; said Miss
+Masters cordially.
+</p>
+<p>Grogan made no reply. The girl went on
+with her work. Then as if communing with
+herself she said: &#8220;And yet they say the Irish
+are always polite.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh?&#8221; said Grogan, rousing himself,
+&#8220;what&#8217;s that?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Miss Masters vouchsafed no reply. She
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span>
+merely laughed. Grogan, conscious that he
+was being chaffed, stared at her. He was
+pleased with what he saw. He found Miss
+Masters handsome. Her office dress, slit at
+the bottom and displaying at this moment a
+neat ankle, was ruched about the neck and
+sleeves. It was a rather elaborate dress for a
+stenographer, but John Boland was a vain
+man and liked to have the employes he kept
+close about him maintain the appearance of
+prosperity. In fact, he paid these particular
+employes well with the explicit understanding
+that they would keep their appearance up to
+his standard.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re making light of me gray hairs, I
+see,&#8221; said Mr. Grogan, smiling.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; said the girl, &#8220;I said good morning
+to you and you didn&#8217;t even grunt in reply.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The top of the morning to you, Miss Masters,&#8221;
+said Grogan, hastening to remedy his
+oversight and removing his hat with an ornate
+bow.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure, and I&#8217;m wishing you the same and
+many of them,&#8221; replied the girl.
+</p>
+<p>Mr. Grogan bowed again and added:
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;And, if I have failed in the politeness due a
+lady, I begs yer pardon.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re forgiven, Mr. Grogan,&#8221; replied
+Miss Masters, resuming her work.
+</p>
+<p>Grogan returned to his meditations. He
+was regarding his mutilated cigar ruefully
+when Miss Masters observed:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;If all of the millionaires were as thorough
+gentlemen as you are, Mr. Grogan, we
+wouldn&#8217;t have any labor unions.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The word millionaire seemed to sting
+Grogan.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll thank you,&#8221; he said abruptly, &#8220;to leave
+me out of the millionaire class.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, Mr. Grogan,&#8221; said the girl, surprised,
+&#8220;I thought you&#8217;d like that!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;So would I&mdash;wanst,&#8221; retorted Grogan,
+&#8220;but now when any one says &#8216;you millionaire,&#8217;
+faith, I get ready to dodge a brick.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I should think it would be pleasant to
+know you had a million dollars.&#8221; There was
+a note of envy in the girl&#8217;s voice.
+</p>
+<p>Grogan rose slowly, walked to the desk and
+leaned across it confidentially.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;So it always was,&#8221; he said sententiously,
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span>
+&#8220;but now they&#8217;re beginning to ask, &#8216;Where
+did you get it?&#8217;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh,&#8221; said the girl.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s not &#8216;Oh,&#8217; I&#8217;m saying,&#8221; said Grogan,
+&#8220;it&#8217;s &#8216;Ouch!&#8217;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Something&#8217;s disturbing you, eh?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Something&mdash;and somebody. &#8217;Tis a girl.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Mr. Grogan!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Whist!&#8221; retorted Mr. Grogan, &#8220;You don&#8217;t
+get me meaning. It&#8217;s not the kind you buy ice
+cream sodies for. No! This lady has a club
+in her fist and a punch in both elbows.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;For you?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I suspicion so, and I&#8217;m oneasy in me mind.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s silly to worry, Mr. Grogan,&#8221; said Miss
+Masters, &#8220;sit down and look over the papers.&#8221;
+She extended a morning newspaper, smiling.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I may as well.&#8221; Grogan took up the
+paper and selected a chair.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Stirring times in Chicago, just now,&#8221; said
+the young woman.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re stirring, all right,&#8221; Grogan
+agreed. &#8220;They&#8217;re too stirring. What I want
+is peace. I&#8217;d like to pass the rest of my days
+in quiet&mdash;quiet&mdash;and&mdash;&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span></p>
+<p>The sentence expired on his lips as he stared
+at the front page of the paper held open in
+his hands.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the matter, Mr. Grogan,&#8221; said
+Miss Masters starting up, alarmed.
+</p>
+<p>Grogan wiped his forehead and moistened
+his lips.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing,&#8221; he said, &#8220;it&#8217;s hot and I&#8217;m&mdash;I&#8217;m&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He threw the newspaper on the floor.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Here,&#8221; he said, &#8220;give me another newspaper.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The girl picked up another paper from
+the heap on the corner of the desk and passed
+it across to him. Grogan looked at the headlines.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Help&mdash;murder,&#8221; he cried. Then he cast
+the paper on the floor and got to his feet
+abruptly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Grogan,&#8221; asked the girl, &#8220;what is the
+matter?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I asked for quiet,&#8221; Grogan replied, picking
+up the papers and shaking them angrily,
+&#8220;and on the front page of this paper is a letter
+written and signed by Mary Randall.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;And why should Mary Randall disturb
+you?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you know she writes to me?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Writes to you?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;She does.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What does she say?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Everything&mdash;and then some,&#8221; was the
+grim response. &#8220;Don&#8217;t laugh!&#8221; he ordered.
+&#8220;Here&#8217;s one of the last of them.&#8221; Grogan
+took a dark blue envelope from his pocket,
+extracted a single sheet of the same color and
+read.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Michael Grogan:&mdash;Do you remember what
+your old Irish mother said to you when you
+left Old Erin to seek your fortune in the new
+world? She said: &#8216;Mike, me boy, don&#8217;t soil
+your hands with dirty money.&#8217; Mary
+Randall.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t soil your hands with dirty money,&#8221;
+repeated Miss Masters.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s a nice billy dux to find beside your
+plate at breakfast, ain&#8217;t it now?&#8221; demanded
+Grogan. Then after a pause he murmured
+half to himself,
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Me old Irish mother, God bless her, with
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span>
+her white hair and her sweet Connemara face!
+I can see her now, just as she stood there that
+day in the door of our cabin when I went off
+up the road, a slip of a boy, with a big bag
+of oatmeal over me shoulder&mdash;one shirt and
+me Irish fighting spirit. That was me capital
+in life, that and her blessing. She&#8217;s sleeping
+there now, and the shamrock is growing over
+her&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Grogan stopped. His voice had grown
+husky.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say,&#8221; he demanded turning on Miss
+Masters abruptly, &#8220;why don&#8217;t you make me
+stop? Don&#8217;t you see I&#8217;m breaking me heart?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The girl had really been moved. &#8220;I can&#8217;t,&#8221;
+she said, &#8220;because&mdash;&#8221; She got out her powder
+puff and proceeded hastily to decorate her
+nose. She was still engaged in this operation
+when the telephone rang. Grogan started.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s that?&#8221; he demanded.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, it&#8217;s only the telephone. What is the
+matter with you, Mr. Grogan?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I dunno,&#8221; responded Grogan despondently,
+&#8220;I&#8217;m as nervous as a girl in a peek-a-boo
+waist.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span></p>
+<p>The telephone rang again.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why don&#8217;t you answer that?&#8221; demanded
+Grogan sharply.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I will,&#8221; replied the girl, &#8220;but there&#8217;s no
+great rush, is there?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes there is,&#8221; insisted Grogan, &#8220;I can&#8217;t
+bear the suspense.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The young woman laughed and picked up
+the receiver.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lake City Electrical Company,&#8221; she
+said. &#8220;What? Who is it, please.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Grogan, who had continued pacing up and
+down the office, stopped and made wild gestures
+to Miss Masters. Covering the mouthpiece
+of the instrument so she would not be
+heard, the girl asked.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is it, Mr. Grogan?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Whist!&#8221; replied Grogan, &#8220;If that is Mary
+Randall on the wire there, I&#8217;ve gone to Alaska.
+I&#8217;ve given all me money away and I&#8217;m living
+on snow balls.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Miss Masters smiled and replied with assurance:
+&#8220;This isn&#8217;t Mary Randall.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thank God for that,&#8221; breathed Grogan.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello,&#8221; went on Miss Masters into the
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span>
+telephone. &#8220;Oh, you&#8217;re long distance?
+Well?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>There was a pause.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sorry, but Mr. Harry Boland hasn&#8217;t
+come downtown yet.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;He may be in any moment&mdash;shall I&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>She broke off sharply as Harry himself
+came in the door drawing off his gloves.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wait! Just a moment please,&#8221; she went
+on. &#8220;He has just come in.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Someone for me, Miss Masters?&#8221; the
+young man inquired, hanging up his hat on a
+rack by the door. Without waiting for a reply
+he turned to Grogan. &#8220;Good morning, Mike.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Tis a fine day&mdash;I hope,&#8221; returned Grogan
+cautiously.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, someone calling you, Mr. Boland,&#8221;
+broke in Miss Masters.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t want to talk to anyone,&#8221; said the
+young man curtly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello, hello,&#8221; continued Miss Masters at
+the telephone. &#8220;Hello, long distance? Mr.
+Boland is too busy&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Wait, please,&#8221; interrupted Harry quickly,
+&#8220;did you say &#8216;long distance?&#8217;&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span></p>
+<p>Miss Masters nodded. &#8220;Just a moment,&#8221;
+she said into the telephone.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Mr. Boland,&#8221; she said. &#8220;It&#8217;s a long
+distance. Some one wants to talk to you in&mdash;Millville,
+Illinois.&#8221;
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XII_BAD_NEWS_FROM_MILLVILLE' id='XII_BAD_NEWS_FROM_MILLVILLE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+<h3>BAD NEWS FROM MILLVILLE</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>The word Millville had an instantaneous
+effect on Harry Boland. It was, in fact,
+the most pleasant sound he had heard in days.
+Upon returning to Chicago after his lover-like
+interview with Patience Welcome he had
+dispatched a long letter to her. To this he
+had received no reply. Then he wrote two
+letters in one day. Neither of them had been
+answered. Thoroughly disturbed now, but
+too busy to leave Chicago himself, Harry
+had sent his confidential man, John Clark, to
+Millville to learn, if possible, the cause of
+Patience&#8217;s silence.
+</p>
+<p>While Harry stood eagerly waiting for the
+&#8217;phone Miss Masters was busy getting the
+long distance connection.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right, Mr. Boland,&#8221; she said at last,
+&#8220;here&#8217;s your party.&#8221; Then into the telephone
+she continued: &#8220;Yes&mdash;Mr. Boland is here
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span>
+waiting. He will talk to Millville. Hello&mdash;hello&mdash;Millville?
+Hello!&#8221; She handed Harry
+the instrument.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wouldn&#8217;t answer that &#8217;phone for a thousand
+dollars,&#8221; put in Grogan dolefully.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello&mdash;hello!&#8221; exclaimed Harry.
+</p>
+<p>A shrill whistle rent the air and Grogan
+jumped hysterically.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s that?&#8221; he demanded.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The postman&#8217;s whistle,&#8221; replied Miss
+Masters calmly, repressing a smile as she
+started for the outer door.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Millville, hello,&#8221; called Harry
+Boland, not getting his connection.
+</p>
+<p>Grogan beckoned Miss Masters to his side.
+&#8220;If there&#8217;s a letter there for me in an envelope
+like this,&#8221; he said producing the dark blue letter
+from his pocket, &#8220;you keep it.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Really?&#8221; Miss Masters now smiled openly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Keep it,&#8221; reiterated Grogan, &#8220;don&#8217;t show
+it to me or I&#8217;ll climb up the side of the building
+and jump off.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Miss Masters thoroughly amused vanished
+into the hall. Meanwhile Harry Boland was
+talking to Millville.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Millville?&#8221; he said. &#8220;Yes this is Harry
+Boland. Oh!&#8221; He paused with a distinct
+note of disappointment in his voice. &#8220;Oh, it&#8217;s
+you, Clark? Yes I know&mdash;You&#8217;ve something
+to report about the Welcomes.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The Welcome family,&#8221; said Grogan,
+pricking up his ears.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right, I&#8217;m listening,&#8221; Harry went on.
+&#8220;Yes, I get you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Look at that now,&#8221; continued Grogan
+reflectively.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, no, you needn&#8217;t wait there any longer&mdash;All right.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He hung up the receiver.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Asking your pardon,&#8221; ventured Grogan,
+&#8220;may I take the liberty of an old friend to
+inquire what Mr. Boland wants with a bum
+family like the Welcomes&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just a moment, Mike,&#8221; interrupted Harry
+putting out his hand imperatively. &#8220;You&#8217;re
+speaking of the girl I mean to marry.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Grogan gaped at the young man.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am?&#8221; he gasped.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are,&#8221; replied the other. He rose to
+his feet and turned tranquilly toward Grogan.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span>
+&#8220;Now what are you going to say?&#8221; he inquired.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing,&#8221; said Grogan, too surprised to
+talk.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right,&#8221; replied Harry pointedly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;But the old man is no good,&#8221; hazarded
+Grogan. &#8220;Tom Welcome is a worthless&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s dead, Mike,&#8221; interrupted Harry.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What?&#8221; This was a day of surprises for
+Grogan.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s dead,&#8221; repeated Harry, &#8220;died the
+night we left Millville.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; Grogan&#8217;s manner had changed.
+&#8220;There were some good points about the man,
+after all. I&#8217;ve heard he&#8217;d never take a drink
+alone&mdash;if he could avoid it.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;And the Welcome family has moved
+away,&#8221; Harry went on.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No one knows. I&#8217;ve been too busy to
+investigate myself so I sent Clark to locate
+them.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Aha,&#8221; said Grogan. &#8220;Then it was Clark
+you were talking to?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course,&#8221; replied Harry impatiently,
+&#8220;didn&#8217;t you hear?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, yes, but&mdash;&#8221; Grogan broke off
+abruptly. &#8220;Say, didn&#8217;t that fat fellow who
+was going to be a detective, the fellow who
+nearly killed me riding on his grocery wagon,
+didn&#8217;t he know anything?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s left Millville, too.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What!&#8221; exclaimed Grogan incredulously.
+&#8220;Do you mean to say a bunch like that can
+drop out of a town like Millville without anyone
+knowing where they&#8217;ve gone?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not telling you. The facts speak for
+themselves,&#8221; said Harry.
+</p>
+<p>Both men were silent.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mike,&#8221; said young Boland suddenly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; responded Grogan.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You were married?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The Irishman was too surprised by the
+question to answer.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve heard you speak about your wife,&#8221;
+Harry insisted.
+</p>
+<p>Grogan still vouchsafed no answer. He
+stood staring at Boland.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve heard you speak of your wife, Norah,&#8221;
+repeated Harry, &#8220;in a way that made me feel
+how sacred her memory was to you. She married
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span>
+you, a husky young Irish laborer in the
+mills, and how that little woman worked for
+you, toiling, saving, scrimping, tending the
+babies as they came! How you worshiped
+her, and big man as you were, how a word
+from her would make you kneel at her feet.
+You held her in your arms when the little
+mounds were raised in the church yard&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Grogan listened in silence, deeply moved.
+He put out his hand and grasped Harry&#8217;s
+firmly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s the way I love Patience Welcome,
+Mike,&#8221; went on Harry, &#8220;just as you loved
+Norah McGuire.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; broke in Grogan huskily, &#8220;I didn&#8217;t
+know&mdash;I&mdash;&#8221; He turned suddenly and demanded,
+&#8220;Well then, why in hell don&#8217;t you
+find her?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m going to try.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;And I&#8217;ll help ye!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good old Mike,&#8221; said Harry, putting his
+arm around Grogan&#8217;s shoulders, &#8220;Aha, you
+can&#8217;t beat the Irish!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, you can,&#8221; responded Grogan, &#8220;but
+they won&#8217;t stay beaten.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span></p>
+<p>The conversation was interrupted by the
+entrance of Boland senior. He hung up his
+hat, took off his gloves and rubbed his hands
+together.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah,&#8221; he said, &#8220;good morning Harry&mdash;Mike.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Morning, Governor,&#8221; returned Harry
+tersely. Grogan acknowledged the salutation
+with a grunt.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have Miss Masters make out a lease for
+that house in South Twelfth street,&#8221; went on
+the elder Boland briskly. He laid some papers
+on the table. &#8220;Here is the copy of the present
+lease with the necessary changes noted.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who&#8217;s the lessee?&#8221; inquired Harry carelessly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Carter Anson.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What!&#8221; exclaimed Harry in amazement.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, well, what&#8217;s the matter?&#8221; demanded
+the father.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ask Mike,&#8221; said the young man turning
+with a smile to Grogan.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I refuse to answer any questions,&#8221; declared
+Grogan. &#8220;&#8217;Tis a little rule I learned in
+politics.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Carter Anson is going to be indicted by the
+grand jury,&#8221; Harry informed his father.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah,&#8221; said John Boland, &#8220;you&#8217;ve been reading
+the yellow journals.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re yellow,&#8221; conceded Harry, &#8220;because
+they contain so many golden truths.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mary Randall, please write,&#8221; sneered the
+elder Boland.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Stop! No!&#8221; Grogan, who had been sitting
+down jumped to his feet in protest. The
+others looked at him in astonishment. He sat
+down again shamefacedly. &#8220;I don&#8217;t want
+Mary Randall to write to me,&#8221; he admitted
+dolefully.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s come over you, Grogan?&#8221; inquired
+John Boland sharply.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;A blue envelope&mdash;a sheet of blue paper
+with words on it, and&mdash;I&#8217;ve got a pain in the
+back of my neck.&#8221; Grogan brought forth the
+blue letter again and gazed at it gloomily.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re crazy,&#8221; John Boland informed him
+curtly. Then he turned to Harry. &#8220;Look
+here, my boy,&#8221; he said, &#8220;don&#8217;t be a fool&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s your son,&#8221; interrupted Grogan chuckling.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Keep quiet, Mike. You know, Harry, I
+own that property with Mike here, and&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Grogan interrupted again. &#8220;Look here,
+John Boland,&#8221; he inquired, &#8220;how much will
+you give me for my share?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Two thousand dollars.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s yours,&#8221; said Grogan.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why it&#8217;s worth double that!&#8221; exclaimed
+John Boland.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Never mind that. It&#8217;s yours,&#8221; repeated
+Grogan. &#8220;I&#8217;ll give two thousand for my peace
+of mind any day.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you crazy?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not yet&mdash;but I&#8217;m headed that way. Take
+it at two thousand and I&#8217;ll love you, John.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;But, Governor,&#8221; protested Harry, &#8220;don&#8217;t
+you know&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now don&#8217;t let a fool reform wave scare
+you,&#8221; burst out the father irritably. &#8220;Did
+you ever see a vice investigation get anywhere?
+Never! Just a lot of talk and&mdash;letters.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Miss Masters appeared with a package of
+letters in her hands. &#8220;Mail, Mr. Boland,&#8221; she
+said. She began sorting the letters. &#8220;Four
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span>
+for you, Mr. Boland,&#8221; she went on, &#8220;and a
+special for Mr. Harry Boland.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Grogan had been watching her intently.
+He breathed deeply and muttered: &#8220;Sure and
+I&#8217;m an old fool. Why should I be afraid of
+letters? Who could write&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Miss Masters interrupted. &#8220;And one for
+you, Mr. Grogan,&#8221; she said casually.
+</p>
+<p>Grogan dropped into his chair crying:
+&#8220;Help!&#8221; Then cautiously he took the letter
+from Miss Masters. The envelope was white
+and he heaved a sigh of relief.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What the deuce ails you this morning,
+Grogan?&#8221; demanded John Boland irritated.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m getting second sight,&#8221; returned Grogan
+gloomily, &#8220;and I don&#8217;t like it.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, don&#8217;t be a fool.&#8221; John Boland began
+opening his mail. &#8220;All this investigating,&#8221; he
+continued, &#8220;this talk of a minimum wage law,
+is just talk and that&#8217;s all. Now take this crazy
+woman&mdash;Mary Randall&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>While he spoke he had opened a letter containing
+a second enclosure. It was an envelope
+of a peculiar shape and its color was dark
+blue.
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XIII_THE_READER_MEETS_ANOTHER_OLD_ACQUAINTANCE' id='XIII_THE_READER_MEETS_ANOTHER_OLD_ACQUAINTANCE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+<h3>THE READER MEETS ANOTHER OLD ACQUAINTANCE</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>The sight of the blue envelope had transfixed
+Grogan. He stood staring at it
+like a man in the presence of a ghost.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The blue envelope, again,&#8221; he cried. &#8220;A
+harpoon for you, John.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>John Boland made no reply. He reached
+for his paper knife, ripped open the envelope
+and drew forth a sheet of blue note paper.
+He read with a gathering frown what had
+been written on it. Then he reread it, muttering
+under his breath.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Does it hurt you much, John?&#8221; inquired
+Grogan, enjoying the other&#8217;s discomfiture.
+</p>
+<p>For answer the elder Boland scrutinized
+Grogan over his glasses.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you know about this, Mike?&#8221; he
+demanded.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Only that I got one of those blue bombs
+myself this morning,&#8221; retorted Grogan.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Listen to this.&#8221; John Boland flourished
+the envelope angrily. &#8220;&#8216;The owner of property
+who leases same to vice is morally responsible
+for the crimes committed on his premises.
+Mary Randall.&#8217;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He turned to Grogan. &#8220;What do you think
+of that?&#8221; he asked.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s hit home,&#8221; replied Grogan grimly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Damn her, for a brazen busybody,&#8221; blurted
+Boland angrily. &#8220;Why doesn&#8217;t she mind her
+own business?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Meanwhile Harry was opening an envelope
+the exact counterpart of his father&#8217;s. He read
+the note twice and stood considering its
+import.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Another of &#8217;em?&#8221; said the elder Boland.
+&#8220;Well, what&#8217;s yours, Harry?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mine?&mdash;Oh,&mdash;mine&mdash;why,&#8221; the young
+man faltered.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, well, can&#8217;t you speak?&#8221; demanded
+the father irritably.
+</p>
+<p>Harry returned no direct reply. Opening
+his note he read:
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;We count on young men like you, Harry
+Boland, to lead the fight we are making
+to save our Little Lost Sisters. Mary
+Randall.&#8217;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now,&#8221; chuckled Grogan, &#8220;you know how
+I felt when I got my little blue envelope this
+morning.&#8221; As he spoke he tore off the end of
+the envelope which he had held unnoticed. Inserting
+his finger and thumb into the envelope
+he went on:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you know, I never did like the color of
+blue&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He broke off as he lowered his eyes to the
+enclosure he had brought out. It was another
+blue letter. Grogan started up and jerked out
+the note. Holding it at arms&#8217; distance he
+read:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;The strength of Ireland is in the purity
+of her sons and daughters. Mary Randall.&#8217;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The three men stood staring at each other
+in amazement.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mary Randall.&#8221; John Boland broke the
+silence with a sneer.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mary Randall,&#8221; repeated Harry quietly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh you Mary Randall!&#8221; put in Grogan
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span>
+with just a touch of admiration in his voice.
+&#8220;She&#8217;s the lady champion lightweight. Three
+knock-outs in three minutes. &#8217;Tis a world&#8217;s
+record!&#8221; He turned to the elder Boland.
+&#8220;Does the punch she gave you hurt much?&#8221;
+he inquired.
+</p>
+<p>Boland glared at Grogan. &#8220;Who the devil
+is Mary Randall?&#8221; he demanded.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve never met her,&#8221; replied Harry. &#8220;She&#8217;s
+a member of the wealthy Randall family. Her
+mother died when she was young and I understand
+she was brought up very quietly.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you know her, Miss Masters,&#8221; persisted
+Boland.
+</p>
+<p>The girl was startled, &#8220;I&mdash;why&mdash;I?&#8221; she
+hesitated.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes&mdash;yes,&#8221; said Harry, &#8220;do you know
+her?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The girl still hesitated and Grogan broke
+in.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a woman, Miss Masters,&#8221; he said,
+&#8220;you ought to know all the feminine quirks.
+Now it&#8217;s up to you. Who&#8217;s Mary Randall?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mary Randall is a wealthy girl,&#8221; said Miss
+Masters calmly. &#8220;She has grown weary of
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span>
+the foolish methods you men have employed
+in attacking the vice problem. Convinced of
+your total incompetence she has started out
+really to do something.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What does she want?&#8221; snorted John
+Boland.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;She said in a printed letter,&#8221; replied Miss
+Masters, &#8220;that she wanted to put several property
+owners and crooked senators in jail.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Grogan was impressed by this statement.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you want to buy the rest of my South
+Side property, John?&#8221; he inquired of Boland.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Doesn&#8217;t she know she&#8217;s disturbing business?&#8221;
+asked Boland of Miss Masters, ignoring
+Grogan.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mary Randall also said,&#8221; the girl replied,
+&#8220;that the greatest business in the world is that
+of redeeming &#8216;Little Lost Sisters.&#8217;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You see, you see,&#8221; said Grogan, &#8220;the
+farther you go, John, the more punches you
+get.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I haven&#8217;t time to bother with this foolishness,&#8221;
+said Boland. &#8220;I&#8217;ve got a big contract
+on with the Simmons people.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He went to the door of his son&#8217;s office.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Come on Harry&mdash;you too Mike. Come in,
+Miss Masters, and take down this contract.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The three men started toward the door. As
+Grogan passed Miss Masters he whispered:
+&#8220;Young woman, if any more blue skyrockets
+come for me, play the hose on them.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very well,&#8221; said the girl, smiling.
+</p>
+<p>Having secured her notebook she started
+toward the inner office when a smartly dressed
+young man entered.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello girlie,&#8221; he said, intercepting her.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good morning,&#8221; replied Miss Masters
+primly. &#8220;What&#8217;s your business?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, just like that, eh?&#8221; said the youth.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; replied the girl sharply. &#8220;What do
+you want?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. John Boland.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You can&#8217;t see him now. He&#8217;s busy.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>There was a sharp, impatient call from the
+inner office.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes sir, I&#8217;m coming,&#8221; replied the girl.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, be quick about it,&#8221; returned the
+voice. &#8220;Do you think I can wait all day?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s John Boland, isn&#8217;t it?&#8221; inquired the
+man eagerly.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span></p>
+<p>Miss Masters nodded assent.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, tell him&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sorry,&#8221; broke in the girl, &#8220;but he&#8217;s
+busy. He won&#8217;t see anyone.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well then, tell him when you can that
+Martin Druce called.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Martin Druce!&#8221; Miss Masters kept her
+eyes on the blank page before her, but she
+made no effort to make a memorandum of the
+name. She added slowly:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You called on the &#8217;phone this morning.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I sure did.&#8221; Druce, with the familiarity
+of an old acquaintance, began toying with the
+silver vanity box Miss Randall wore suspended
+from her neck. &#8220;Say,&#8221; he went on insinuatingly,
+&#8220;you have the sweetest voice&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Better tell me why you want to see Mr.
+Boland,&#8221; she said quietly taking the vanity
+box from him and putting him at a distance.
+At the same time she smiled at him archly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just want to renew a lease&mdash;the Cafe
+Sinister.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh,&#8221; said the girl, &#8220;I&#8217;ve heard of it.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s some swell place,&#8221; replied Druce with
+pride.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes?&#8221; said the girl. She pantomimed
+counting money. &#8220;Yes, as long as you can
+keep the police asleep.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What in&mdash;what the deuce do you mean?&#8221;
+Druce inquired quickly.
+</p>
+<p>Miss Masters shrugged her shoulders.
+Again she smiled at him archly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, you&#8217;re wise, eh?&#8221; Druce laughed. He
+felt that he was on familiar ground with this
+girl. There was that in her manner that indicated
+the wisdom of the demi-monde. He
+thought he had placed her.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re wise, eh?&#8221; he repeated. The girl
+had maneuvered to place a table between
+them. He leaned against the table and placed
+a hand on hers.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why does a fine looker like you spend her
+life pounding a typewriter?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Would you advise a change?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You could make a hundred a week in the
+cabarets,&#8221; declared Druce admiringly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps,&#8221; replied Miss Masters. She
+picked up her notebook and started for the
+inner office. &#8220;But I know where that road
+leads.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span></p>
+<p>Druce was daunted with this reply. It
+wasn&#8217;t at all what he had expected.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh,&#8221; he jeered, &#8220;you&#8217;re one of the goody-goody
+kind, are you? Fare you well. I&#8217;ll see
+you in church Sunday.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The girl was now at the inner office door.
+She turned and eyed Druce narrowly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thank you,&#8221; she replied without anger.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps, some day, I&#8217;ll see you wearing
+stripes and looking through iron bars!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The door shut swiftly behind her, leaving
+Druce staring at the panels.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you know about that,&#8221; he spoke
+aloud, though there was no one in the outer
+office to hear him.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Never mind, kid&mdash;you&#8217;re no boob, anyway.&#8221;
+He turned on his heel and walked
+out.
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XIV_IN_WHICH_THE_WOLF_IS_BITTEN_BY_THE_LAMB' id='XIV_IN_WHICH_THE_WOLF_IS_BITTEN_BY_THE_LAMB'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+<h3>IN WHICH THE WOLF IS BITTEN BY THE LAMB</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>John Boland was a very capable business
+man. He possessed the combination
+of shrewdness, ability to grasp and marshal
+details, and that utter selfishness which the
+world from time immemorial has rewarded
+with huge accumulations of money. He
+had one of those minds which find their recreation
+in intrigue. Unembarrassed by a conscience
+and unhampered by scruples he drove
+directly to his goal&mdash;success.
+</p>
+<p>As head of the Electric Trust Boland was
+compelled to be at once a financier and a
+politician. The faculties for success in both
+fields are closely allied; in both Boland was
+eminently triumphant. Sitting in his office
+day after day, unmoved by events that might
+have disturbed other men and unstirred by
+emotions that might have turned other men
+from their paths, he looked out over the city
+and &#8220;played his game&#8221; with all the cold impassiveness
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span>
+of a gambler operating an infallible
+system in roulette. No detail was too small to
+escape his notice, no agent too ignoble to serve
+his purpose.
+</p>
+<p>These facts are mentioned to explain the
+relationship that existed between John Boland
+and Martin Druce. In these two men, the
+social extremes of the city met&mdash;Boland, the
+financial power and leading citizen; Druce,
+the dive keeper and social outcast. They met
+because Boland wished it. Druce was one of
+the creatures that he could and often did use
+in his business.
+</p>
+<p>Although ostensibly ignorant of the very
+existence of Druce, Boland in reality had the
+man often in his thoughts. He kept these
+thoughts hidden in that inner chamber of his
+mind from which, from time to time, emerged
+those inspirations that had made his name a
+by-word on La Salle street for supernatural
+astuteness. Not even the most intimate of his
+coworkers guessed them.
+</p>
+<p>For nearly a month now Druce had been
+calling at Boland&#8217;s offices intent on obtaining
+a renewal of his lease to the Cafe Sinister.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span>
+During that entire month he had never been
+able to obtain even a word with the master
+financier. Boland had purposely refused to
+grant the interview so frequently requested by
+Druce not because he had any repugnance
+against doing business with the dive keeper
+but because to his mind there had never appeared
+any good reason why he should grant
+that interview. He played the waiting game
+with Druce because he had found by profitable
+experience that the waiting game paid John
+Boland best. The time might come when he
+would be able to use so excellent a tool as
+Druce to its best advantage. Boland was waiting
+calmly for that time. If Druce suffered
+in the interim John Boland was unable to see
+how that was any of his concern. In fact,
+Boland figured, the more Druce suffered, the
+keener a tool he would be for his purposes.
+</p>
+<p>Druce guessed something of this. He too
+possessed a mind adapted to intrigue. Therefore
+every rebuff from Boland found him
+undaunted. He knew that his time must
+come. He called at Boland&#8217;s offices again and
+again, smiling always in the face of denial.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span></p>
+<p>Of late a new incentive for calling at the
+Electric Trust&#8217;s offices had developed for
+Druce. This was furnished by Miss Masters.
+The girl&#8217;s charming looks had aroused the
+man&#8217;s curiosity and cunning. Her air of
+worldly wisdom, her alternate repulses and
+advances, had stirred him as he had rarely
+been stirred before. In his eagerness to possess
+her he almost lost sight of the main object
+of his visits.
+</p>
+<p>But whether by accident or design Druce
+was never able to get a word with the girl
+alone. She was always, save on the sole occasion
+of his last visit, either engaged with Harry
+Boland&#8217;s dictation, or, if in the outer office,
+chaperoned by Harry Boland&#8217;s red-headed
+office boy. One day Druce met Red in the
+lower corridor of the Electric Trust building.
+The boy grinned knowingly at him and yelled
+as he hurried by.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll be back in a minute.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t hurry on my account,&#8221; answered
+Druce, but at the moment it came to him that
+Red&#8217;s chaperonage of Miss Masters might not
+be entirely accidental.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span></p>
+<p>Druce stepped into the elevator and was
+let out at the Electric Trust&#8217;s offices. He entered
+and found the offices empty.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hang the little fool,&#8221; he said, &#8220;she doesn&#8217;t
+know which side her bread is&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Meaning whom?&#8221; inquired Miss Masters&#8217;
+saccharine voice.
+</p>
+<p>Druce turned quickly and saw Miss Masters
+coming from the inner office. He was impressed
+by the attractiveness of her dress.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where does she get all the glad rags?&#8221; he
+demanded of himself. &#8220;Maybe old Boland&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who&#8217;s a little fool?&#8221; persisted Miss
+Masters.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nobody,&#8221; returned Druce. &#8220;Just talking
+to myself. Mr. Boland&#8217;s out or busy, I
+suppose?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Mr. Boland&#8217;s out,&#8221; replied Miss
+Masters. She sat down at a typewriter and
+inserted a sheet of paper in the machine. &#8220;He
+left a message for you, however. He told me
+this morning that if you called I should ask
+you to &#8217;phone him about twelve o&#8217;clock. He&#8217;ll
+try to see you then for a moment.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right,&#8221; said Druce, &#8220;thanks.&#8221; But he
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span>
+made no move to go. He watched the girl as
+she hammered the typewriter keys. Presently
+she looked up at him inquiringly.
+</p>
+<p>This to Druce appeared to be a direct offer
+to open a conversation. He hastened to take
+advantage of it.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; he replied in his most ingratiating
+manner, drawing near her. &#8220;I want to talk
+to you. I have been dying to speak to you
+alone, girlie&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The girl rose from her chair and picked up
+her notebook.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Mr. Druce,&#8221; she said.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, girlie.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Miss Masters opened the notebook and took
+a lead pencil from the shining rolls of her hair.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have to keep a record of all callers,&#8221;
+said the girl unexpectedly. &#8220;Mr. Boland is
+very particular about it. Let me see, your
+name is Martin Druce?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>She wrote the name into her book and
+showed it to him.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have the name correctly, haven&#8217;t I, Mr.
+Druce?&#8221; she went on.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Rather tardy with your duties, aren&#8217;t
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span>
+you?&#8221; inquired Druce with a smile. &#8220;I&#8217;ve been
+coming here for some days now and you
+haven&#8217;t wanted to put me into your book
+before.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps,&#8221; replied the girl, &#8220;I haven&#8217;t
+noticed you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Druce was sure now that he was beginning
+a flirtation with her.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;And your business?&#8221; continued the girl.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Boland knows my business,&#8221; replied
+Druce, with an air of carelessness.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No doubt he does, but I don&#8217;t. And how
+can I keep my records properly if I don&#8217;t
+know? I can&#8217;t bother Mr. Boland with these
+details. What is your business?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why&mdash;ah&mdash;&#8221; hesitated Druce. &#8220;Live
+stock.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What kind of live stock?&#8221; persisted Miss
+Masters, preparing to write down his answer.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh!&#8221; Druce began to feel that he was
+being badgered.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What kind of live stock do you deal in?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;See here,&#8221; snarled Druce, &#8220;what are you
+trying to do?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Miss Masters&#8217; answer was perfectly calm.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span>
+&#8220;I am trying,&#8221; she said, &#8220;to find out what kind
+of live stock you deal in, Mr. Druce.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Forget it!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you ashamed to tell me?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Druce turned on the girl as though stung.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why should I be ashamed?&#8221; he blustered.
+He moved toward the door.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll know that,&#8221; replied Miss Masters,
+&#8220;when you tell me what kind of live stock you
+deal in.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>There was a stern quality in Miss Masters&#8217;
+voice that Druce had noticed in the voice of a
+district attorney with whom he had once had
+an unpleasant interview. The man was a
+coward. He wanted to be off.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Every kind,&#8221; he blurted. &#8220;Good day.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>A moment later he found himself in the
+hallway. &#8220;Red,&#8221; the office boy, had just come
+from the elevator.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the trouble, Druce?&#8221; demanded the
+boy. &#8220;You look pale around the gills.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You go to hell, you little rat,&#8221; retorted
+Druce, and without waiting for the elevator
+vanished down the steps, with the jeering
+laughter of the boy ringing in his ears.
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XV_THE_SEARCH_BEGINS_FOR_THE_LOST_SISTER' id='XV_THE_SEARCH_BEGINS_FOR_THE_LOST_SISTER'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+<h3>THE SEARCH BEGINS FOR THE LOST SISTER</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>There was nothing in Miss Masters&#8217;
+manner after Druce had made his hasty
+departure to indicate that she felt any thrills
+of triumph over the completeness of the dive
+keeper&#8217;s rout. On the contrary she seemed
+unaccountably depressed. She sat down at
+her typewriter thinking deeply. Presently
+her meditations were disturbed.
+</p>
+<p>The door opened quietly. A man entered
+who, in spite of the shabbiness of his clothing,
+his emaciation and the haggardness of his
+features the reader would have had no difficulty
+in recognizing. He was Harvey Spencer.
+He stood in the open door looking at the
+girl uncertainly. She took him in in a glance.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good morning,&#8221; she said sympathetically.
+&#8220;You are looking for someone here?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I was,&#8221; replied Harvey enigmatically, &#8220;but
+he&#8217;s gone.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Gone?&#8221; repeated the girl.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; replied the caller quickly, &#8220;perhaps
+you can give me some information. That
+man, who stepped in here a moment ago&mdash;you
+know who he is?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; replied the girl, &#8220;his name is Martin
+Druce.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s his name, yes&mdash;what&#8217;s his business?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Live stock, he says,&#8221; replied Miss Masters
+in some surprise.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know where he lives?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No. Won&#8217;t you sit down?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t. I&#8217;m following him.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The girl was bewildered. &#8220;Are you a
+detective?&#8221; she inquired.
+</p>
+<p>The question produced an extraordinary
+effect on the young man. He threw up his
+head and gave vent to a short, sharp
+exclamation.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ha!&#8221; he said. &#8220;No,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;I once
+thought I was a detective, but I woke up.&#8221;
+Then he started for the door. &#8220;Thank you,&#8221;
+he said. As he reached for the knob he reeled
+and clutched at the wall for support. Miss
+Masters started toward him.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Come,&#8221; she said, &#8220;sit down. Aren&#8217;t you
+feeling ill? Let me get you a glass of water.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>She drew a glass full from a cooler and
+carried it to the young man.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s warm,&#8221; she said, &#8220;you&#8217;re exhausted.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Harvey gulped the contents of the glass,
+and looked at Miss Masters mournfully.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thanks,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Yes&mdash;mighty warm.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Looking for a job?&#8221; inquired Miss
+Masters.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I ought to be,&#8221; was the reply.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why aren&#8217;t you?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because,&#8221; Harvey&#8217;s despondency deepened,
+&#8220;I&#8217;m looking for a girl.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;A girl from down state?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;How did you know that?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why,&#8221; replied Miss Masters, &#8220;you don&#8217;t
+belong to Chicago. Your clothes tell me that.
+And the girl&mdash;she was from your own town?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tell me about it?&#8221; Miss Masters&#8217; manner
+was friendly. She drew a chair and sat down
+opposite the young man. Harvey was so
+moved by this unlocked for sympathy that
+tears filled his eyes.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Her name,&#8221; he said huskily, &#8220;was Elsie
+Welcome. She ran away. Her father had
+beaten her. On the night she left the father
+died. We were to have been married. I
+learned that she had come to Chicago with this
+man&mdash;Martin Druce. I followed her. For
+days I have tramped the streets. Today I
+caught a glimpse of Druce as he entered an
+elevator in this building. I had just reached
+here when I lost sight of him.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The door behind him opened slowly. Miss
+Masters looked up to see a gray haired woman
+enter. She wore a waist and skirt of dead
+black with a little old fashioned black bonnet.
+Her face was sweet with motherliness, but
+drawn with sorrow and exhaustion.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Harvey,&#8221; she said.
+</p>
+<p>Harvey turned and hurried to her side.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I saw you come in here, Harvey,&#8221; the
+woman went on, &#8220;so I followed. I hope we&#8217;re
+not intruding Miss&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Masters is my name,&#8221; responded the
+stenographer quickly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;This is the girl&#8217;s mother,&#8221; said Harvey.
+&#8220;This is Mrs. Martha Welcome.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span></p>
+<p>Miss Masters hastened to bring another
+chair.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;And your daughter,&#8221; she asked quickly,
+&#8220;have you&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I don&#8217;t think there was anything wrong
+in Elsie&#8217;s going away,&#8221; interrupted Mrs.
+Welcome. &#8220;She wasn&#8217;t happy and her
+father&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Her father beat her,&#8221; said Harvey wrathfully.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Harvey,&#8221; chided Mrs. Welcome, &#8220;Tom&#8217;s
+dead. He wasn&#8217;t a bad man, Miss Masters.
+He lost his courage when he lost his invention.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I understand,&#8221; said Miss Masters sympathetically.
+&#8220;You haven&#8217;t heard anything
+from your lost girl?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; replied Mrs; Welcome sadly, &#8220;not
+a word. Patience and I and Harvey came to
+the city hoping to find her&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Patience?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s my other daughter,&#8221; replied Mrs.
+Welcome, &#8220;two years older. Elsie was my
+baby.&#8221; Her voice broke.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m wondering,&#8221; she went on in subdued
+tones, &#8220;if she&#8217;s all right. I&#8217;ve prayed, too.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span>
+Seems as though I&#8217;ve prayed every minute
+that God would bring my baby back to me.
+You don&#8217;t think it makes any difference, do
+you, Miss Masters, even if we are in a great,
+noisy city? God is here, too, isn&#8217;t he?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>She put out her hand impulsively and Miss
+Masters took it into her own cool palm.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, God is here,&#8221; she replied reverently,
+&#8220;though sometimes it is hard to have faith
+and believe it.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Harvey had walked away and stood looking
+out at the door.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Here&#8217;s Patience,&#8221; he said suddenly.
+</p>
+<p>Patience Welcome entered almost immediately.
+She was dressed in the same somber
+black as her mother. She wore a heavy veil
+pushed back from the brim of her hat. Harvey
+presented her to Miss Masters.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve good news for you, mother,&#8221; exclaimed
+Patience after acknowledging the introduction.
+&#8220;I&#8217;ve got a place in that office I went
+into when I left you. I begin work tomorrow.
+Then when I came out and missed you I was
+terribly frightened, but the elevator man told
+me you had come in here. And so I found you.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Your mother has been telling me something
+about the search for your sister,&#8221; said
+Miss Masters. &#8220;Perhaps I may be able to
+help you. Could you tell me something about
+it?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thank you,&#8221; replied Patience, &#8220;we need
+help. It seems as if we had exhausted all our
+own resources. But we mustn&#8217;t stop now.
+Mother is worn out.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps,&#8221; said Miss Masters, &#8220;it would
+be better if this young man should take your
+mother home. You and I may be able to talk
+the situation over more confidentially if we
+are alone.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You think you can help us?&#8221; inquired Patience
+eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>Miss Masters was thoughtful. &#8220;Yes,&#8221; she
+said, &#8220;I believe I have unusual facilities for
+helping you. I know a great deal about
+Chicago&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then,&#8221; said Patience, &#8220;I&#8217;ll put our case in
+your hands. I know I can trust you. Somehow,
+I feel better already.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>She took Miss Masters&#8217; hands in her own,
+confidently.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; returned Miss Masters, a little
+tremulously, &#8220;you can trust me.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Harvey in the meantime had helped Mrs.
+Welcome with her wraps and was leading her
+toward the door.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll follow in a little while,&#8221; said Patience,
+as the two passed out the door. &#8220;I&#8217;ll be home
+in time for supper.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now,&#8221; said Miss Masters, after Harvey
+and Mrs. Welcome were gone, &#8220;first tell me
+if you have any money.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Patience hesitated. Such a question coming
+from a stranger embarrassed her.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; she said slowly, &#8220;I think we have
+enough money. Harvey brought fifty dollars
+with him and Mother was given some money
+by a man who came to our aid, in Millville&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Millville?&#8221; interrupted Miss Masters.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; continued Patience, &#8220;that is the town
+we live in. The man&#8217;s name was Dudley&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dudley!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Patience looked at Miss Masters in surprise.
+&#8220;You know him?&#8221; she asked.
+</p>
+<p>Miss Masters hesitated. &#8220;The name seems
+familiar,&#8221; she said.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;He was a stranger in Millville,&#8221; Patience
+went on. &#8220;My mother wired to her sister,
+Sarah, for money after Elsie left us and my
+father died. My aunt sent us forty dollars.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>There was a pause after this explanation,
+then Miss Masters went on hesitatingly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Forgive me, Miss Welcome,&#8221; she said,
+&#8220;if I speak plainly to you. Were there any
+strangers in Millville about the time your sister
+went away?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Strangers?&#8221; repeated Patience.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Any attractive young men,&#8221; pursued Miss
+Masters.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why&mdash;why&mdash;I&mdash;&#8221; stammered Patience in
+confusion.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;There were, I see.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t think my sister&mdash;&#8221; burst out
+Patience.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Forgive me,&#8221; interrupted Miss Masters,
+&#8220;but when an innocent country girl leaves her
+home suddenly it is a good rule to look for&mdash;the
+man.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You think some one lured Elsie away?&#8221;
+said Patience stifled by the thought. &#8220;That
+some man is to blame?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;It isn&#8217;t an easy thing to say, my dear, but
+I do.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Aren&#8217;t there laws against such crimes?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; replied Miss Masters, &#8220;but these
+laws were made by men, and men have always
+shown an unwillingness to legislate against
+their sex. Now there were some young men
+in Millville at the time your sister went away,
+weren&#8217;t there?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; admitted Patience, &#8220;two.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you know their names?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Martin Druce.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know him?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have seen him.&#8221; Miss Masters opened
+her memorandum book. &#8220;Martin Druce,&#8221; she
+read, &#8220;dealer in live stock.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; assented Patience, &#8220;he told us that
+was his business.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;And the other stranger, Miss Welcome?
+Do not hide any of the facts.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d rather not say,&#8221; replied Patience
+hesitatingly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You had better tell me,&#8221; urged Miss
+Masters.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I can&#8217;t,&#8221; exclaimed the girl, &#8220;it hurts
+me even to think that he&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Better tell me,&#8221; Miss Masters persisted.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The other young man,&#8221; said Patience,
+&#8220;was&mdash;Harry Boland.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What?&#8221; exclaimed Miss Masters sharply.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know Harry Boland?&#8221; Patience
+flushed and stood up.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do. You are in the Bolands&#8217; outer offices
+at this moment.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>She had scarcely spoken when the door of
+Harry Boland&#8217;s office opened and the young
+man came out.
+</p>
+<p>Patience drew her heavy veil down over her
+face and darted toward the outer door.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Here is a corrected form of that contract,
+Miss Masters,&#8221; said young Boland brusquely.
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XVI_JOHN_BOLAND_MEETS_MARY_RANDALL' id='XVI_JOHN_BOLAND_MEETS_MARY_RANDALL'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+<h3>JOHN BOLAND MEETS MARY RANDALL</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>But Patience did not leave the office of
+the Lake City Electrical Company as
+quickly as she had hoped to do. She was intercepted
+by the young man, who deliberately
+placed himself between her and the door,
+effectually blocking the way.
+</p>
+<p>He eyed the small figure in black with
+an inquisitiveness which was almost rude,
+attempting to peer through the meshes of the
+heavy veil, as he spoke to Miss Masters:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I beg your pardon, I thought you were
+alone.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Before she could reply a rasping voice
+called from the inner office:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Harry, send Miss Masters in here,
+will you?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The Governor wants you, Miss Masters,&#8221;
+said Harry, his eyes still on Patience.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m coming, Mr. Boland,&#8221; proclaimed the
+stenographer.
+</p>
+<p>With only a glance at her companions, she
+made a detour of the desk in the center of the
+room and glided into the other office.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m afraid Miss Masters may be kept busy
+for some time,&#8221; volunteered Harry kindly,
+&#8220;but if&mdash;if you care to wait&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Patience only bowed her head and attempted
+to pass him; but she caught her
+breath quickly and her body swayed slightly,
+but perceptibly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I beg your pardon,&#8221; went on Harry,
+fencing for time.
+</p>
+<p>Again endeavoring to pass him, she staggered
+and put out one hand to steady herself,
+which Harry clasped quickly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let me help you,&#8221; he said.
+</p>
+<p>She made a movement to release her hand
+as she recovered from the dizziness which had
+seized her.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Better put up your veil, dear,&#8221; said Harry
+gently. &#8220;I&#8217;m sure it is you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Please!&#8221; pleaded Patience. The word
+was scarcely audible.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Put up your veil,&#8221; he persisted.
+</p>
+<p>When she complied, he gazed into her deep,
+dark eyes and stroked her hand tenderly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you think I could be in the same room
+with you and not know you? Oh, my dear&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, Harry, no!&#8221; protested Patience, withdrawing
+her hand.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you knew how long and patiently I&#8217;ve
+searched for you, I don&#8217;t think you could be
+so unkind.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s the only safe way,&#8221; she replied, stepping
+away from him and clutching the back
+of a chair.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why?&#8221; he asked as he went close to her
+again.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because&mdash;because&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because you do really care for me and
+you&#8217;re fighting against yourself.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Please let me go,&#8221; begged Patience.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No!&#8221; returned the young man stoutly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What shall I do?&#8221; she pleaded distractedly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just turn around,&#8221; was the smiling retort,
+&#8220;and run straight into the arms of the man
+who loves you.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;And bring trouble and sorrow on you?
+No&mdash;no&mdash;no!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t understand.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Please don&#8217;t ask me,&#8221; she went on. &#8220;I&#8217;ve
+been through the deep waters of grief and
+suffering. Harry, I&#8217;ve been hungry.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hungry!&#8221; exclaimed Harry. &#8220;Oh, my
+poor girl, you must let me&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Patience shook her head slowly, sadly; an
+eager light of desire for his love and tender
+care illuminated her face.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you love me?&#8221; pursued the young man
+fervently.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You mustn&#8217;t ask me that&mdash;wait!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;And lose you again?&#8221; He laid his hand
+on one of hers. &#8220;No; I want my answer
+now.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>A harsh, commanding voice interrupted
+them.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Harry!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Patience started and drew her hand from
+beneath the other&#8217;s touch as an elderly man
+came into the room.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Governor!&#8221; exclaimed Harry, a little surprised,
+but entirely composed as he went on:
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Governor, I want you to meet the young
+lady who is to be my wife.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What!&#8221; ejaculated John Boland, scarcely
+believing his own ears.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss Patience Welcome.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Welcome?&#8221; the older man turned his back
+to conceal the startled expression which came
+over his features.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. This is my good old dad, Patience,&#8221;
+said Harry, laying one arm affectionately
+about his father&#8217;s shoulders.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Rather sudden, isn&#8217;t it?&#8221; demanded
+Boland, senior, in a sharp tone.
+</p>
+<p>But Harry was accustomed to his father&#8217;s
+abrupt ways and gave no heed to the testiness
+of the query.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, Governor, I met Miss Welcome when
+I was in Millville.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes,&#8221; hemmed John Boland, truculently
+unmindful of the introduction. &#8220;But
+just now get that contract off; Miss Masters
+is waiting.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right,&#8221; assented Harry cheerfully.
+Then he turned to Patience. &#8220;I won&#8217;t be
+long, dear.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span></p>
+<p>Boland placed himself before his desk,
+covertly watching from beneath his shaggy,
+lowered brows until his son had disappeared.
+Then he cleared his throat and wheeled upon
+Patience without ceremony.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, listen, Miss Welcome, you&#8217;re not
+taking this seriously, I hope.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, Mr. Boland,&#8221; she replied, moving toward
+the door. &#8220;I&#8217;ve tried to tell Harry how
+impossible it is&mdash;that&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a sensible girl,&#8221; he broke in bluntly.
+&#8220;As it happens, Harry is already engaged.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The girl&#8217;s breath came in short, sharp gasps,
+but she managed to control her voice as she
+murmured:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;He is?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Boland placed his fingers in his vest pocket
+and drew out a fountain pen, the point of
+which he examined attentively. Patience felt
+that she ought to go at once, but somehow she
+couldn&#8217;t. She stood there trembling, scarcely
+knowing whether or not she should believe the
+other&#8217;s statement. She could not believe that
+Harry would do such an ignoble thing.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span></p>
+<p>Boland glanced over his shoulder and saw
+her still hesitating on the threshold.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; he repeated blandly. &#8220;He is going
+to marry the daughter of my business partner&mdash;a
+girl who will inherit half a million.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He could see from the corner of his eye
+that the shot had told, but still Patience lingered,
+dazed.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I see,&#8221; she faltered weakly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now you go along like a good girl,&#8221;
+advised Boland, &#8220;and I&#8217;ll see that you are
+treated fairly.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He opened a pretentious looking check book
+which lay on the desk.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just tell me how much you want and&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing!&#8221; was the firm, decisive reply.
+</p>
+<p>He eyed the girl critically as he remarked:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You look as though ready money were a
+stranger to you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is&mdash;but I have a position with the
+Mining Company in this building.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know them,&#8221; declared Boland thoughtfully.
+Patience made no comment. She went
+on proudly, drawing her figure to its full
+height:
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;And I want nothing; I am <i>giving</i> you back
+your son, Mr. Boland, I am not selling him
+to you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He shrugged his shoulders and stared
+stupidly at the vacant doorway as he heard
+the girlish voice in the hallway, saying:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Down, please.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He closed his check book with a snap, and
+involuntarily fumbled about his well arranged
+desk, replacing a paper here and a contract
+there.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hum!&#8221; he mused, &#8220;I thought there was
+something wrong with Harry.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The desk telephone rang sharply. He
+picked up the instrument and placed the receiver
+to his ear.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello! hello!&#8221; he jerked out irritably.
+&#8220;Yes&mdash;yes, this is John Boland. Who
+wants me?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>His acute features contracted as he listened
+to the reply.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Martin Druce,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Want to see
+me about the lease of the Cafe Sinister, eh?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>His mind worked rapidly while he again
+listened.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;All right,&#8221; he blustered finally, &#8220;all right,
+see you in fifteen minutes. Yes,&mdash;yes, here!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He hung up the receiver and took a cigar
+from his pocket, thoughtfully biting off the
+end, as he muttered half aloud:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Martin Druce, eh? Cafe Sinister&mdash;Ah!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>His lips ceased moving as he looked about
+him. He was still thinking deeply; then he
+struck a match and lighted the cigar at the
+glowing flame which he contemplated for a
+second before extinguishing it. With a look
+of one who has just solved a problem, he cast
+aside the charred ember and gritted:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I guess so.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He seized a sheet of paper and rapidly
+scratched a few words on its white surface,
+settling back comfortably in the big chair as
+Harry came in.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right, Governor,&#8221; called out the son;
+but he paused in astonishment when he saw
+that his father was alone. &#8220;Why&mdash;why,
+where&#8217;s Patience?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss Welcome had to go,&mdash;she said,&#8221; returned
+the other, calmly puffing his cigar.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Didn&#8217;t she leave any word for me?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, she said she&#8217;d see you again.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;When?&#8221; asked Harry, impatiently. &#8220;Why,
+I don&#8217;t even know where she lives.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I thought of that,&#8221; replied his father, as
+he handed the memorandum slip to Harry, on
+which he had just written. &#8220;Here&#8217;s her address.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Harry took the bit of paper gratefully, and
+looked at it.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the matter?&#8221; John Boland surveyed
+the wrapper of his cigar with keen interest,
+deftly closing a small broken place in it.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;This address!&#8221; exclaimed Harry.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, what about it?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s in the lowest, most depraved section of
+the city.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I noticed that.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Harry looked up at his father quizzically.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You did?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Governor,&#8221; began Harry pointedly, a new
+idea beginning to dawn upon him, &#8220;if you do
+not know that a great deal of your property is
+rented and used for the most immoral purposes
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span>
+how do you know this address so well?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why,&#8221; spluttered Boland, senior, &#8220;I&mdash;I&#8217;ve
+read the papers.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;But this vile section of the city that you
+own has never been published.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Look here, Harry,&#8221; demanded his father,
+aggressively, &#8220;do you doubt my word?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do,&#8221; was the firm reply.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m your father,&#8221; he retorted angrily.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are,&#8221; agreed Harry, &#8220;but this is a
+matter of right and wrong, and you can&#8217;t fool
+me again as you have all these years.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll show you who&#8217;s master,&#8221; threatened
+John Boland, grimly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s your privilege to try,&#8221; conceded the
+son with suppressed anger.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hold on&mdash;hold on,&#8221; hedged his father,
+apologetically, &#8220;don&#8217;t let&#8217;s get mad about it.
+Finish up that contract and then&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;And then?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Harry&#8217;s manner was alert, defensive, but
+wholly questioning.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then we&#8217;ll talk this over calmly.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right, but Governor&mdash;&#8221; the young man
+turned at the door, grasping the contract in
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span>
+one hand as he put out the other warningly
+and pointed with his forefinger to the scrap of
+paper he had laid on the desk, on which was
+written Patience&#8217;s supposed address: &#8220;Let
+me give you a piece of advice. Don&#8217;t try to
+fool me.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>John Boland stood motionless for a moment
+looking after his son; then he clenched
+his hand and brought it down on the desk with
+a forcible thump, as he thought:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve got to do something&mdash;quick.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, made up your mind to see me, did
+you, Mr. Boland?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Martin Druce&#8217;s suave voice recalled Boland
+from the revery into which he had lapsed.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; he replied quickly, walking to the
+door through which Harry had gone and
+closing it.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, don&#8217;t talk,&#8221; he commanded as he
+returned to his desk. &#8220;Listen! You and
+Anson want a renewal of the lease for the
+Cafe Sinister, don&#8217;t you?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure,&#8221; responded Druce, affably. &#8220;And I
+suppose you&#8217;ll raise the rent on us.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; replied Boland, shaking his head.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Eh?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not if you&#8217;re smart.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t get you,&#8221; announced Druce inquiringly,
+as he seated himself on the edge of the
+desk.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;My boy, Harry, thinks he is in love with
+a girl who has come to Chicago.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Mr. Boland, but I don&#8217;t see&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now,&#8221; continued Boland, regardless of
+the interruption, &#8220;if Harry happened to see
+this girl in some questionable resort,&mdash;say,
+like Cafe Sinister&mdash;if he were tipped off that
+this girl would be there&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I get you.&#8221; Druce sprang to his feet; he
+was now keen and alert, like a hound on the
+scent. &#8220;Who&#8217;s the girl?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s got a position of some kind with the
+Alpha Mining Company on this floor,&#8221; replied
+Boland. &#8220;She&#8217;ll lose that tomorrow.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m on. What&#8217;s her name?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Patience Welcome!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What!&#8221; exclaimed Druce, with a sneering
+twist to the word.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you know her?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Well?&#8221; Boland gazed at him, anxiously
+awaiting the reply.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;About the lease?&#8221; veered Druce with cunning
+perception.
+</p>
+<p>Boland hesitated and scrutinized the other
+closely. He was satisfied with what he saw
+stamped on Druce&#8217;s face, but he only said
+pointedly:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I always make good when a man delivers
+the goods. Now get out&mdash;I&#8217;m busy.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;On my way,&#8221; returned Druce easily, as he
+sauntered to the door, but he turned there,
+saying significantly:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll deliver the goods,&mdash;don&#8217;t worry.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>John Boland sighed contentedly as he
+watched Druce go. Then he muttered:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;There, I guess I&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right, Mr. Boland,&#8221; rang out a clear
+feminine voice, as Miss Masters came from
+the inner office. &#8220;That contract is all ready.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Miss Masters!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Mr. Boland,&#8221; she replied in saccharine
+tones.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Make out a lease for that property in
+South Twelfth street.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;For the Cafe Sinister, John?&#8221; inquired
+Michael Grogan, who had followed Miss Masters
+into the main office. &#8220;You&#8217;re crazy.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, shut up, Mike,&#8221; snapped Boland.
+&#8220;What ails you, anyway?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve been reading the last edition,&#8221; replied
+Grogan, lugubriously. &#8220;Mary Randall has
+had special officers sworn in at her own expense
+to help her make raids. She&#8217;s put goose
+flesh all over me.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let me see it.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Boland took the paper which Grogan was
+fingering nervously.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Take it,&#8221; said the Irishman. &#8220;It&#8217;s a live
+coal.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The other glanced over the sheet and threw
+it on the desk.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Get busy on that lease, Miss Masters,&#8221; he
+commanded.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just a moment, Governor,&#8221; interrupted
+Harry, who had overheard the conversation
+as he came in. &#8220;If you lease that property to
+that hound, Anson, you and I are through.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What?&#8221; exclaimed John Boland, astounded.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;It has come to a show-down,&#8221; went on
+Harry, with determination expressed in both
+his tone and manner, &#8220;and I&#8217;m damned if I&#8217;ll
+touch a cent of dirty money like that.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve been reading the Mary Randall
+stuff, eh?&#8221; sneered his father.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. And she&#8217;s right. Now, you make
+your choice.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hold on&mdash;hold on,&#8221; commanded the irate
+father. &#8220;Aren&#8217;t you forgetting that I own
+and control this Lake City Company&mdash;that
+you are&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No! I realize that,&#8221; retorted Harry,
+resolutely.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right!&#8221; Boland turned to Miss Masters
+grimly: &#8220;Make out that lease to Anson.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then here,&#8221; said Harry quietly, as he
+wrote a few words on a sheet of blank paper
+and laid it on the desk; &#8220;here is my resignation
+as president of your Electrical Company, to
+take effect <i>now</i>.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Harry!&#8221; protested his father.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll get my personal things together at
+once,&#8221; went on the young man, securing his
+hat from the rack.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;This has gone far enough,&#8221; rasped John
+Boland, springing to his feet. &#8220;I&#8217;ll show this
+Mary Randall there&#8217;s one she can&#8217;t scare.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He paced nervously up and down the office,
+pausing finally beside his desk.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss Masters, take an open letter from
+me to the newspapers.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He did not notice the actions of the stenographer
+as he dictated:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I, John Boland, am a business man. I
+stand on my record. I defy Miss Mary Randall&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>In pausing to formulate his thoughts, he
+became conscious that Miss Masters had not
+been taking his dictation; that she had laid an
+envelope on his desk directly in front of where
+he usually sat, and that she was putting on
+her hat.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Here, hold on!&#8221; he cried peremptorily.
+&#8220;What does this mean, Miss Masters?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It means, Mr. Boland,&#8221; she replied quietly,
+as she adjusted a hat pin, &#8220;that I have resigned.
+Good day.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>When she started to leave Boland called out
+to her in amazement:
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Here&mdash;wait&mdash;why do you resign?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;That letter on the desk will tell you,&#8221; she
+said as she moved through the doorway.
+&#8220;Good day.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>John Boland picked up the letter and
+opened it. He was dazed as he read aloud:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I refuse to lend my aid to the owners of
+vice property. Mary Randall.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Boland stared into space, while Harry
+exclaimed:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then Miss Masters is Mary Randall!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Murder, alive!&#8221; yelled Grogan. He slid
+down in his chair and attempted to conceal
+himself beneath the desk.
+</p>
+<p>John Boland&#8217;s hands trembled as he
+clutched the letter.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mary Randall,&#8221; he said, still dazed. &#8220;By
+all that&#8217;s holy! That girl Mary Randall!&#8221;
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XVII_THE_CAFE_SINISTER' id='XVII_THE_CAFE_SINISTER'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+<h3>THE CAFE SINISTER</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>The Cafe Sinister stands like a gilded
+temple at the entrance to Chicago&#8217;s
+tenderloin. The fact is significant. The management,
+the appearance, the policy, if you
+please, of the place are all in keeping with
+this one potent circumstance of location. The
+Cafe Sinister beckons to the passerby. It
+appeals to him subtly with its music, its cheap
+splendor, its false gayety. To the sophisticated
+its allurements are those of the scarlet
+woman, to the innocent its voice is the voice
+of Joy.
+</p>
+<p>Two pillars of carved glass, lighted from
+the inside by electricity, stand at the portal.
+Within a huge room, filled with drinking tables
+sparkling with many lights, gleaming and
+garish, suggests without revealing the enticements
+of evil.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span></p>
+<p>This is the set trap. Above is that indispensable
+appurtenance to the pander&#8217;s trade&mdash;the
+private dining room. Above that is
+what, in the infinite courtesy of the police,
+is called a hotel. And behind and beyond lies
+the Levee itself&mdash;naked and unashamed,
+blatantly vicious, consuming itself in the
+caustic of its own vices.
+</p>
+<p>To the trained observer of cities the words:
+&#8220;All hope abandon, ye who enter here,&#8221; are
+written as plainly over the door of the Cafe
+Sinister as if it were that other portal through
+which Dante passed with Beatrice. But the
+unlearned in vice cannot read the writing. By
+thousands every year they enter joyously and
+by thousands they are cast out into the Levee,
+wrecked in morals, ruined in health, racked by
+their own consciences.
+</p>
+<p>The Cafe Sinister is not an institution peculiar
+to Chicago. Every great city in America
+possesses one. It is the place through
+which recruits are won to the underworld. It
+is the entrance to the labyrinth where lost
+souls wander. Viewed from its portal it is
+the Palace of Pleasure; seen from behind,
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span>
+through those haggard eyes from which vice
+has torn away the illusions of innocence, it is
+the Saddest Place in the World.
+</p>
+<p>Druce owned the Cafe Sinister with Carter
+Anson; their lease was written for them by
+John Boland. Thus the upper world and the
+under were leagued for its maintenance. And
+though the press might shriek and the pulpit
+thunder the combination and the Cafe Sinister
+went on forever.
+</p>
+<p>These three men had been drawn together
+by a common characteristic. Their consciences
+were dead. That atrophy of conscience made
+them all worshipers of the same idol&mdash;money.
+The motives that propelled each of the three
+to the altar were as diverse as their separate
+natures, but the sacrifice that each offered to
+the Moloch was the same&mdash;their souls.
+</p>
+<p>Having forfeited by their deeds the thing
+that made them men, the three shrunk to the
+moral stature of animals. Boland was the
+tiger, brooding over the city with yellow eyes,
+seeking whom he might devour. Druce was
+the wolf; cunning, ruthless, prowling. Anson
+was the mastiff; savage, brutal, given to wild
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span>
+bursts of rending passion. Love of power
+lashed Boland to his crimes; lechery prompted
+Druce in his prowlings; and whisky was the
+fire that smouldered under Anson&#8217;s brutalities.
+</p>
+<p>On an afternoon in June Druce and Anson
+sat together in conference in one of the little
+booths of the Cafe Sinister&#8217;s main dining
+room. The cafe, after its orgy of the night
+before, was quiet. Waiters, cat-footed and
+villain faced, gathered up the debris of the
+night&#8217;s revel, slinking about their work like
+men ashamed of it. The sunlight peered dimly
+through the curtained windows; the air was
+heavy with the lees of liquor and the dead
+smoke of tobacco.
+</p>
+<p>The two men sat facing each other. A glass
+of whisky was cupped in Anson&#8217;s closed
+hand. His clothes, unbrushed and unpressed,
+flapped about his huge figure. His throat
+bagged with flabby dewlaps. His head was
+bullet-shaped, his eyes fierce, his mouth loose-lipped
+and brutal. He made a strange contrast
+to his companion. Druce was lithe, well
+made and gifted with a sort of Satanic handsomeness.
+He was immaculately dressed.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s fixed, I tell you,&#8221; Druce was saying.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fixed, be damned,&#8221; rumbled Anson. &#8220;I
+know Boland. Nothing&#8217;s fixed with him until
+the lease is drawn and delivered.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I say the thing&#8217;s fixed,&#8221; insisted Druce.
+&#8220;All we&#8217;ve got to do now is carry out our part
+of the agreement and I&#8217;ve completed all of the
+arrangements. We&#8217;ve got a week.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know,&#8221; said Anson, unconvinced. &#8220;It&#8217;s
+fixed and you&#8217;ve completed the arrangements.
+I&#8217;m from Missouri.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Boland wants this girl, Patience Welcome,
+brought in here next Saturday night,&#8221; said
+Druce. &#8220;He has arranged that his pious pup
+of a son, Harry, shall be here the same evening.
+We are to manage it so that he will get
+the impression that the girl has been amusing
+herself with him, that she has been kidding
+him along and playing this tenderloin game
+on the side. He&#8217;s not to be allowed to talk
+to her. He&#8217;ll see her&mdash;that will be enough.
+She&#8217;s to come here to help her mother earn a
+little cash. I sent a fellow to hire the old
+woman to start here on Saturday night as a
+scrub woman. She&#8217;s agreed to keep that part
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span>
+of it quiet. Then I&#8217;ll drag the other one in&mdash;mine,
+do you understand. We&#8217;ll make young
+Boland think the whole damned Welcome
+family belongs to us. We can see to it that
+the Patience girl gets some glad rags and
+some dope when she gets here. She&#8217;s seen me
+in Millville, so it&#8217;s up to you, Anson, to sign
+her up at good pay as a singer&mdash;&#8221; He stopped
+significantly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Too complicated,&#8221; was Anson&#8217;s rejoinder.
+&#8220;Sounds good on paper, but it won&#8217;t work, I
+tell you, it won&#8217;t work. I don&#8217;t like the way
+things have been going lately.&#8221; He drained
+the whisky glass. &#8220;This vice commission and
+this crazy yap of a Mary Randall&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;O, hell!&#8221; interrupted Druce in disgust.
+&#8220;You&#8217;ve got it, too, have you? Mary Randall!
+My God, you talk like an old woman!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I tell you&mdash;&#8221; Anson began.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You can&#8217;t tell me nothing. I&#8217;m sick and
+tired of framing stuff and then have you
+throw it down because you&#8217;ve lost your nerve
+and are afraid of a girl. I&#8217;m done, I tell you.
+If you think you can improve on my plans, go
+ahead. I&#8217;m through. I won&#8217;t&mdash;&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span></p>
+<p>Anson capitulated immediately. &#8220;Now
+don&#8217;t get sore, Mart,&#8221; he whined, &#8220;I know I&#8217;m
+no good on this frameup stuff. Maybe I am
+a little nervous. Go ahead with your plan&mdash;I
+guess it&#8217;s the best one. Don&#8217;t let&#8217;s fight
+about it.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right,&#8221; rejoined Druce. &#8220;Now that&#8217;s
+settled. I&#8217;ll handle this thing. All you&#8217;ve
+got to do is keep your trap shut and stand
+pat.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The conversation was interrupted by the
+angry and maudlin exclamations of a girl.
+She had been sitting at a distant table half
+asleep. A porter had wakened her.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I won&#8217;t go home and sleep,&#8221; she shrieked.
+&#8220;Keep your hands off me, you dirty nigger.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now what&#8217;s the trouble?&#8221; demanded Druce
+of Anson.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Swede Rose has been drunk all night.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ve got to get rid of her. She&#8217;s always
+pulling this rough stuff.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not now,&#8221; warned Anson. &#8220;It&#8217;s too hard
+to get new girls. When she&#8217;s sober she&#8217;s a
+wise money getter.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Damn her,&#8221; muttered Druce, &#8220;I don&#8217;t like
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span>
+her anyway. She had the nerve to slap my
+face the other night because I wouldn&#8217;t give
+her money for hop. As soon as this lease is
+signed I&#8217;m going down state. I&#8217;ll bring back
+some new stock and then it&#8217;s &#8216;On your way&#8217;
+for that wildcat.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let me handle her,&#8221; advised Anson. He
+got up and walked over to the table where the
+girl was having the altercation with the negro.
+She was still young, but drink and drugs had
+left ineffaceable lines upon her face. She was
+beautiful, even this morning after her night&#8217;s
+debauch, for she possessed a regularity of
+feature and a fine contour of figure that not
+even death itself could wreck. Her disheveled
+hair showed here and there traces of gray.
+Her skin was a dead white, save where two
+pink spots blazed in either cheek.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Here he comes,&#8221; called the girl, catching
+sight of Anson. &#8220;Good old Carter. Ans,&#8221;
+she went on, &#8220;chase this coon out of here; he
+won&#8217;t let me sleep.&#8221; Anson motioned the
+porter to keep his distance. &#8220;An&#8217; say, Ans,&#8221;
+the girl went on, &#8220;gimme a quarter. I&#8217;m broke
+and I got to have some hop or die.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span></p>
+<p>Anson handed the negro a quarter without
+a word. The porter hurried out of the cafe.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;He wanted to chase me out,&#8221; the girl
+whimpered.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, Rose,&#8221; Anson went on pacifically,
+&#8220;you&#8217;ve got to cut out this all night booze
+thing. You&#8217;re hurting the house.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The girl looked up at the dive keeper with
+dull eyes.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hurting the house, eh?&#8221; she echoed.
+&#8220;What about me? Think I ain&#8217;t hurting myself?
+Say, it&#8217;s got so I&#8217;d rather be drunk than
+sober. I can&#8217;t stand to be sober. I always
+start thinking. Some of these days you&#8217;ll
+hear of me walking out of this place and making
+a dent in the lake&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The negro returned with the drug. The
+girl seized it with trembling hands. While the
+two men stood and looked she drew a small
+lancet from the bosom of her dress, inserted
+its point under the skin of her white forearm
+and drove a few drops of the drug into the
+vein. The effect was instantaneous. She
+laughed loudly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, you get to bed,&#8221; ordered Anson.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Bed, hell,&#8221; retorted the girl.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I said get to bed.&#8221; Anson glowered at her.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;ll be a big night tonight, and&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You can&#8217;t give me no orders.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Anson had held in his temper as long as he
+was able. His fierce eyes twinkled and his
+brutal mouth twitched. Without a word he
+reached across the table, clutched the girl by
+the throat and dragged her out of her seat.
+He hurled her, half strangled, on the floor.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Here,&#8221; he bellowed to some of his servitors,
+&#8220;take this damn hell-cat out of here. Take
+her up to the hotel. If she won&#8217;t go to bed,
+throw her into the street.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&mdash;you&mdash;&#8221; gasped the girl, struggling
+to her feet.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t talk back to me,&#8221; roared Anson, &#8220;or
+I&#8217;ll kill you. I&#8217;ll show you what you are and
+who&#8217;s running this place.&#8221; Then to the
+waiters: &#8220;Get her out of here.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The girl was dragged out of the room,
+screaming and fighting. A wisp of curses
+came back into the big room as she was lugged
+up the stairs towards the hotel.
+</p>
+<p>Anson stood panting with anger. A mail
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span>
+carrier entered and placed a letter in his hand.
+He opened and read:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Carter Anson: Take your choice.
+Close the Cafe Sinister, or I&#8217;ll see that it is
+closed. Mary Randall.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The big man flushed crimson with rage.
+He tried to speak, but the words choked in his
+throat. He crumpled the letter and hurled it
+with a curse across the room.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Druce,&#8221; he bellowed.
+</p>
+<p>Druce hurried across the room.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you see that?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I saw you beat her up. Why don&#8217;t
+you let &#8217;em alone? You&#8217;ll kill one of them
+some of these days.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Naw, not her. I mean the letter. Mary
+Randall&mdash;she says she&#8217;s going to close us.&#8221;
+A waiter recovered the letter and brought it
+to Druce. He read it.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say, listen, are you turning yellow&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I ain&#8217;t yellow,&#8221; returned Anson, &#8220;but
+this thing is getting my goat. You&#8217;re sure
+about that lease?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure?&mdash;say, I thought we&#8217;d settled
+that&mdash;&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; pursued Anson, &#8220;I don&#8217;t like this.
+What have you done with this other girl&mdash;the
+one you married? She&#8217;ll be getting us into a
+row next.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I married her, didn&#8217;t I?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, but&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, it&#8217;s about time she started earning
+her bread. This Randall woman hasn&#8217;t got
+me scared. You know why I married her.
+Well, I&#8217;m going through with it. I&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The rest of his sentence died on his lips. A
+girl scarcely more than a child came in from
+the hotel entrance. She was dressed in a lacey
+gown, a size too large for her. The slit skirt
+displayed her slim ankles in pink silk stockings.
+The French heeled shoes were decorated
+with rhinestone buckles. In spite of this
+outrageous dress she was still pretty. It was
+Elsie Welcome.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello, kid,&#8221; said Druce, his manner changing.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I want to see you, Martin,&#8221; Elsie replied.
+Druce noticed that she seemed deeply agitated.
+There were signs of recently shed tears
+on her cheeks.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll run along,&#8221; said Anson, seeing the
+girl&#8217;s agitation. When he was gone Druce
+drew the girl into a booth and demanded
+sharply:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What the devil do you want and how did
+you get here?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I came in a taxicab,&#8221; the girl answered.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;A taxi, eh? Well, you&#8217;re learning. Who
+paid for it?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It isn&#8217;t paid for, Martin. I wanted to see
+you and&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;And what?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The man&#8217;s waiting outside.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Druce flushed angrily. &#8220;Look here,&#8221; he
+demanded. &#8220;Don&#8217;t play me for a boob. Get
+someone else to pay your taxi bills.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;But, Martin, I thought&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Druce did not wait for the rest of the sentence.
+With a muttered oath he rushed outside
+and paid the waiting chauffeur.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, what do you want?&#8221; he demanded
+when he returned.
+</p>
+<p>Elsie looked at him piteously. &#8220;Martin,&#8221;
+she said, &#8220;I can&#8217;t stay in that place any
+longer.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Say, don&#8217;t my aunt treat you all right?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The girl burst out sobbing. &#8220;She isn&#8217;t your
+aunt, Martin. She told me so herself. And
+that flat&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, what about it?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I can&#8217;t tell you. I can&#8217;t say it. I never
+knew until tonight.&#8221; Elsie clutched Druce&#8217;s
+arm pleadingly. &#8220;Martin,&#8221; she said, &#8220;a man
+came into my room.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Druce saw that the time had come for him
+to lay his cards on the table. He folded his
+arms and looked at the girl.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well?&#8221; he demanded coolly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;He had been drinking and&mdash;he took hold
+of me.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>There was a long pause. Druce gazed at
+the girl satirically. She quailed with sinking
+heart under that look. She began sobbing
+again.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t look at me like that, Martin,&#8221; she
+wailed. &#8220;Don&#8217;t&mdash;or I shall go mad. I left
+home to marry you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I married you, didn&#8217;t I?&#8221; Druce
+sneered.
+</p>
+<p>Elsie attempted to control her voice.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;That woman you call your aunt laughed
+at me when I told her I was your wife. She
+said I was a country fool.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Damn her,&#8221; muttered Druce. &#8220;I&#8217;ll settle
+with her.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The girl grasped Druce frantically.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tell me she lied,&#8221; she cried, &#8220;or I&#8217;ll go
+crazy. Tell me she lied.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, she lied,&#8221; answered Druce glibly.
+&#8220;See here, kid, it&#8217;s about time you began helping
+to support the family.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Elsie dried her tears. &#8220;I&#8217;m&mdash;I&#8217;m ready,&#8221;
+she said. &#8220;I&#8217;ve practiced my songs&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;O, the songs,&#8221; said Druce. &#8220;That isn&#8217;t all.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean, Martin?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why&mdash;don&#8217;t be so stand-offish. When a
+man offers to buy you a bottle of wine, let
+him.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Martin!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Druce stopped her sharply. &#8220;Now don&#8217;t
+begin that Millville Sunday school stuff,&#8221; he
+said. &#8220;This is business.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is it?&#8221; Elsie spoke in a whisper.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure. When a man&#8217;s got a wad of bills
+and he&#8217;s willing to buy, string him along!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;But I&#8217;m your wife, Martin.&#8221; Elsie was
+dead white and calm.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, don&#8217;t let that worry you. Go as far
+as you like&mdash;or as far as he likes.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The girl stood motionless, looking straight
+before her.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is&mdash;is that what you brought me here
+for?&#8221; she asked with forced calmness.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure. Why do you suppose I dressed you
+up like that? Your stock in trade is your good
+looks. Sell it.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The girl drew herself up rigidly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I won&#8217;t do it,&#8221; she said. She started
+toward the door.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You will!&#8221; grated Druce, following her.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Never,&#8221; she answered. &#8220;I&#8217;ll die first.
+Good-by!&#8221; The door closed after her.
+</p>
+<p>Anson had returned to the room and had
+witnessed the scene.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; he sneered, &#8220;there goes the first
+move in your plan. You&#8217;ve lost that one.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You think so?&#8221; Druce sneered in return.
+&#8220;Well, don&#8217;t lose any sleep worrying about
+that one. She ain&#8217;t got a dime. She&#8217;ll be
+back.&#8221;
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XVIII_LOST_IN_THE_LEVEE' id='XVIII_LOST_IN_THE_LEVEE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+<h3>LOST IN THE LEVEE</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>So stupefied was Elsie Welcome by
+her emotions as she fled from the Cafe
+Sinister that it was not until her clothes were
+drenched that she realized it had begun to
+rain. Even then she did not halt and seek
+shelter. Her numbed brain knew only one
+thing&mdash;that she must get away from Druce
+and the place of sin to which he had brought
+her.
+</p>
+<p>Up to the time of her last interview with
+her husband she had been living in a dream;
+now that dream had turned into a nightmare.
+But the nightmare, she at last realized, was
+reality. The veil of deception Druce had
+woven around her had been torn away by his
+own brutal words. She had come to feel a
+vague terror of the man. As for the Cafe
+Sinister, her whole nature revolted against it.
+</p>
+<p>It was an hour before sunset. The sullen
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span>
+houses about her were beginning to show
+signs of life. Here and there a door opened
+and a man or woman stepped quickly out with
+rapid glances up and down the street. There
+was no loitering. They went their way
+quickly, always with a half furtive look over
+the shoulder.
+</p>
+<p>As the girl reached a corner she found at
+last that she was too exhausted to go farther.
+Her clothes dripped. She sought an entrance
+way for shelter. A tall girl in a broad hat
+with showy plumes was just coming out of
+the door. She looked at Elsie&#8217;s tear stained
+face and stopped.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the matter, girlie?&#8221; There was
+sympathy in her voice.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing. Can you tell me where this
+number is?&#8221; She produced a card on which
+Druce&#8217;s &#8220;aunt&#8221; at their last interview had
+written the address of a woman from whom
+she could get work.
+</p>
+<p>The tall girl glanced at the slip of paper.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s just over there, two doors from that
+corner,&#8221; she said. Elsie turned to cross the
+street. The tall girl stood still regarding her
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span>
+thoughtfully. Suddenly she seemed to reach
+a decision. She darted forward and stopped
+Elsie.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s none of my business, kid,&#8221; she said,
+&#8220;but what do you want of Mother Lankee?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Elsie looked at her in surprise. &#8220;Why,&#8221;
+she said pitifully, &#8220;I expect to get work
+there.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you know the kind of work Mother
+Lankee would ask you to do?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know, but I&#8217;m willing to do anything.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Anything?&#8221; repeated the tall girl.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, yes. I&#8217;ve got to the point where I
+can&#8217;t afford to be particular.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The tall girl laid her hand on Elsie&#8217;s arm.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is your name?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Elsie Welcome.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where do you live?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;On South Tenth street.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You come from down state?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;How did you know?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s written all over you. What man
+brought you here?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The question surprised Elsie and brought
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span>
+back memory of her sorrows. She did not
+answer. Her eyes filled with tears.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come, kid,&#8221; said the tall girl, cheerfully,
+&#8220;get hold of yourself. Now, listen! You
+stay away from Mother Lankee. You&#8217;re hungry,
+ain&#8217;t you, dearie? You come with me
+and we&#8217;ll get something to eat.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Elsie was too tired to resist and, instinctively,
+she trusted this tall girl with her assumption
+of guardianship. Together they crossed
+the street and entered the rear room of a
+saloon. Three men sat near the entrance
+playing cards. They looked at the two girls,
+inspecting Elsie narrowly and nodding carelessly
+at her companion. The girl took seats
+at a distant table.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you want, Lou?&#8221; inquired one of
+the men, getting up from the table.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not you,&#8221; retorted Lou curtly. &#8220;Send
+one of your waiters here with a plain lemonade,
+a glass of milk and some of that beef
+stew.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Milk, eh?&#8221; said the man, &#8220;and lemonade.
+On the wagon again, Lou?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Run along now,&#8221; returned the girl. &#8220;If
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span>
+you keep on asking questions someone is going
+to tell you lies.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The man went into another room, spoke to
+someone there and rejoined the card players.
+In a few moments a negro waiter appeared
+with the viands Lou had ordered.
+</p>
+<p>Elsie began to eat famishedly. The other
+girl watched her approvingly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go to it, girlie,&#8221; she advised. &#8220;I know
+how you feel. I&#8217;ve been hungry myself.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>She sipped her lemonade until Elsie had
+finished. Then, as though it had not been
+interrupted, she resumed the conversation
+they had begun in the street.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The same old game,&#8221; she said cynically.
+&#8220;You came to Chicago because you loved him.
+He strung you along&mdash;&#8221; Her glance fell on
+Elsie&#8217;s wedding ring. &#8220;You fell for that &#8216;I
+do take thee&#8217; thing. Then he shook you. Is
+that right, girlie?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Elsie shook her head. A stupor due to the
+food and the reaction from her nervous and
+physical exhaustion came over her. She felt
+too languid to grapple with the problem of
+existence.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span></p>
+<p>The tall girl arched her eyebrows in surprise.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;He didn&#8217;t shake you? Then why&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I couldn&#8217;t do what he wanted me to do,&#8221;
+murmured Elsie. She felt her face flushing
+and she dropped her head. &#8220;He wanted me
+to&mdash;to&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The other interrupted her sharply. &#8220;You
+needn&#8217;t say it&mdash;I know.&#8221; She gripped the
+table in sudden anger. &#8220;One of these dogs&mdash;eh?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Elsie stared at her blankly. The old sense
+of forlornness, of being alone and uncared
+for, returned to her.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know what you mean,&#8221; she faltered.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What was his name?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Druce,&#8221; gasped Elsie.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Druce, eh?&#8221; replied the tall girl, as though
+the name had opened a whole vista of understanding.
+&#8220;Druce? Well, look out for him,
+girlie. He&#8217;ll hound you from one end of the
+town to the other until he gets you. That&#8217;s
+his business.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;He always said he was a dealer in live
+stock.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span></p>
+<p>The tall girl laughed scornfully. &#8220;Live
+stock!&#8221; she jeered. &#8220;Did he get away with
+that? Well, that&#8217;s what he is&mdash;a dealer in
+human live stock, a trafficker in women, one
+of the oldest professions in the world&mdash;and the
+dirtiest. Live stock! That&#8217;s what he calls
+girls like you and me&mdash;cattle!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>For a long moment Elsie sat staring at her
+companion. The last prop of her faith in the
+man who had married her was crumbling. She
+could not give up this last illusion of Druce&#8217;s
+faithfulness without a struggle. The blood
+flamed to her cheeks and she started to her
+feet.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t believe it,&#8221; she cried in anguish.
+</p>
+<p>To her surprise, Lou made no reply. She
+merely regarded her pityingly. This was the
+last blow. Elsie burst into a flood of tears.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know you don&#8217;t believe it,&#8221; said Lou
+gently. &#8220;It&#8217;s hard for anyone who is decent
+to believe that men can fall so low. Why,
+nobody believes it! The men who run the city
+government don&#8217;t believe it, the law makers
+don&#8217;t believe it, the vice commission, doesn&#8217;t
+believe it. The only people who believe it are
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span>
+the people who, at their own bitter cost, know
+it&mdash;and this girl Mary Randall.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>She paused.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Look at me, kid,&#8221; she went on. &#8220;I was
+sold for $175. Sold, do you get that?
+SOLD! And I came high. They buy and
+sell &#8217;em in this district every day for fifty.
+Yes, I was prime stock. They brought me up
+here from Kentucky. Kentucky Lou, price
+$175&mdash;a choice article.&#8221; She broke off, laughing
+bitterly, and summoned a waiter.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Whisky,&#8221; she said, &#8220;and be quick with it.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>She waited until the waiter returned without
+speaking. Then she tossed off the glass
+of fiery liquid like a man.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now,&#8221; she said, resuming the conversation
+abruptly, &#8220;let me tell you what you are up
+against. You can&#8217;t go home, your pride won&#8217;t
+let you. And if you wanted to go home you
+haven&#8217;t the money. Druce has turned you
+loose in this district to starve and when you&#8217;ve
+starved enough you&#8217;ll come back to him.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Elsie shook her head.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, you will, girlie. You don&#8217;t know it
+now, but I know it and Druce knows it. And
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span>
+when you come back you&#8217;ll do as Druce wants
+you to do, because you&#8217;ll know that if you don&#8217;t
+you&#8217;ll have to starve again. It&#8217;s against
+human nature to starve. You&#8217;ll go back to
+him. And when you do and Druce is tired of
+you he&#8217;ll sell you for what you are, cattle&mdash;his
+kind of cattle!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh no!&#8221; wailed Elsie. &#8220;Not that. Surely
+in this great city there are places where a
+friendless girl can find protection!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Kentucky Lou laughed again but the laugh
+contained no mirth.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I thought that too, kid,&#8221; she said more
+gently. &#8220;And perhaps&mdash;perhaps&mdash;if you
+could find the right people and they believed
+you they might help you. But they didn&#8217;t
+help me. I went to one of these institutions
+that advertise to help friendless girls. Yes,
+I went to them. I had my baby in my arms.
+And they began by shooting me full of questions
+that I&#8217;d rather die than answer. And me
+perishing for a kind word and a slap on the
+back&mdash;just something to keep me fighting to
+be good. They gave me tracts, and sermons
+and advice. And then my baby died and I
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span>
+didn&#8217;t care what happened. I guess I went
+crazy after that. &#8216;It&#8217;s hell, anyway,&#8217; I says,
+&#8216;so here goes.&#8217; And here I am.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>While she spoke Kentucky Lou was fumbling
+with her dress. Her hand reappeared in
+a moment with a five dollar bill. She shoved
+the bill into Elsie&#8217;s hand.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Take that,&#8221; she said, &#8220;and go. Go as far
+as you can. It&#8217;s all I can do for you and it
+may save you. I think you&#8217;ll come back to
+Druce but I&#8217;m taking a gambler&#8217;s chance.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>She took Elsie by the arm, half lifted the
+stupefied girl to her feet and led her to the
+door. Impelled by a terror which both blinded
+and choked her Elsie fled into the gathering
+darkness without even pausing to thank her
+benefactor.
+</p>
+<p>Lou returned to the saloon and ordered
+more whisky.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lou,&#8221; inquired one of the men, &#8220;who&#8217;s
+you&#8217;re friend?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Lou regarded the questioner calmly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;That?&#8221; she replied, &#8220;Oh, that&#8217;s a little lost
+lamb turned loose in a den of you human
+hyenas.&#8221;
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XIX_MARY_RANDALL_GOES_TO_LIVE_IN_A_WOLF_S_DEN' id='XIX_MARY_RANDALL_GOES_TO_LIVE_IN_A_WOLF_S_DEN'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+<h3>MARY RANDALL GOES TO LIVE IN A WOLF&#8217;S DEN</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Martin Druce, still pacing uneasily;
+about the big drinking room of the Cafe
+Sinister after his angry parting with Elsie
+Welcome, looked up suddenly and saw the
+street door open. He stood still staring. The
+new arrival was Mary Randall. She wore a
+smart tailored suit and a modish hat. Druce
+noted these details of costume, the shining
+bronze hair, the fresh complexion and the trim
+figure. He gasped with surprise.
+</p>
+<p>Druce&#8217;s surprise was not due to any recognition
+of his visitor as the reformer. To him
+Mary Randall was still Miss Masters, for he
+had heard nothing of the episode in John
+Boland&#8217;s office when the electric king&#8217;s private
+secretary revealed her true identity. His
+astonishment was predicated upon the fact
+that this stenographer, after having thwarted
+and flouted him, after having seemed to read
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span>
+the darkest secrets of his plotting mind, should
+now walk in upon him with all the easy composure
+of an old friend.
+</p>
+<p>Then he had read the girl wrong after all!
+She was, as he had at first suspected, of the
+demi-monde. Thus her sophistication, the
+ease with which she had penetrated his pretensions,
+the cool finality with which she had
+catalogued and placed him, were all explainable.
+Her worldly wisdom, which he had
+found so baffling, was that of the skilled and
+experienced adventuress!
+</p>
+<p>These reflections swept through his mind in
+a moment. Another thought came to him that
+filled him with rage. She was here now to
+resume her play with him. But rage gave way
+to desire. His mind instantly busied itself
+with new intrigues. Here was a woman much
+to be desired. She had come hunting amusement
+at his expense. She delivered herself
+into his hands; she laughed at his power. And
+she seemed confident of beating him. This
+was a game that filled him with delight. He
+sprang forward eagerly to greet her, bowing
+gallantly, and doffing his hat.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;How do you do, Mr. Druce?&#8221; inquired
+Miss Masters. &#8220;You seem surprised to see
+me here.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Druce caught something mocking in her
+tone. &#8220;I&#8217;m more than surprised,&#8221; he returned.
+&#8220;I&#8217;m tickled pink. Won&#8217;t you have a seat?&#8221;
+He prepared a place for her at one of the
+booths. &#8220;And can&#8217;t I order you something to
+drink?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Miss Masters favored Druce with one of
+her enigmatical smiles. &#8220;It&#8217;s a little early for
+wine,&#8221; she said, &#8220;and too late for highballs.
+Besides, business before pleasure. I want to
+talk to you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Druce sat down, expectantly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve come here, Mr. Druce,&#8221; Miss Masters
+went on, &#8220;not merely to make a social call, as
+you seem to take for granted, but as John
+Boland&#8217;s agent. He has instructed me to take
+up the matter of your new lease with you. I
+am to handle the whole transaction in his name.
+The only stipulation that he makes is that you
+are not to communicate with him again. He
+wants you to stay away from his office, because
+he has learned within the last few hours that
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span>
+the office is being watched by agents of this
+girl reformer, Mary Randall. He has instructed
+me to tell you not to attempt to see
+him or to telephone him until your negotiations
+with me are concluded.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Druce was disappointed.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why,&#8221; he said, &#8220;I thought the matter of
+the lease was settled. Boland told me plainly
+when I last talked with him that if I would
+arrange to have Patience Welcome here on
+Saturday night so that Harry Boland could
+see her he would give me a new lease with no
+increase in rental.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I understand,&#8221; replied Miss Masters to
+whom this was news. &#8220;The idea of arranging
+this meeting is, I am informed, to convince
+Harry that the girl has been playing with him&mdash;that
+she is one of your employes.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s it,&#8221; replied Druce. &#8220;I&#8217;ve made all
+the plans and the girl will be here on Saturday
+night. I&#8217;ve arranged to have her mother here,
+too. And to make it good I expect to bring
+in the other sister&mdash;the girl Elsie&mdash;at the last
+moment. Young Boland will believe that the
+whole Welcome family is working for me.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I see,&#8221; said Miss Masters. &#8220;It&#8217;s a pretty
+smooth scheme, but Mr. Boland thinks it&#8217;s
+rather too daring. That&#8217;s why he&#8217;s sent me
+here, to see that nothing goes wrong. You are
+to give me all the details of your plans and
+through me Mr. Boland is to be kept informed
+as to what is going on.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, he&#8217;s a deep one,&#8221; said Druce. &#8220;I
+don&#8217;t like his introducing a third party into
+my plans very well, but I guess I&#8217;ve got to
+take it. I&#8217;ve got to have that lease.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; replied Miss Masters, &#8220;that&#8217;s the
+way John Boland has it figured out.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say, girlie,&#8221; Druce went on, assuming a
+confidential air, &#8220;Old Boland sure must have
+a lot of confidence in you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Again Miss Masters smiled enigmatically.
+&#8220;Yes,&#8221; she admitted, &#8220;Mr. Boland has reason
+to know I can take care of myself in nearly
+every situation.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m beginning to think you&#8217;re as deep as
+Boland is.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes?&#8221; Miss Masters tantalized him with
+another of her smiles. &#8220;Now,&#8221; she went on,
+&#8220;tell me about this. You say you&#8217;re going to
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span>
+have the other Welcome girl here. How do
+you expect to arrange that?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Druce grinned triumphantly. &#8220;That&#8217;s dead
+easy,&#8221; he said. &#8220;You see I&#8217;m married to her.&#8221;
+He had expected to startle Miss Masters with
+this information, but he was disappointed. She
+merely arched her brows slightly.
+&#8220;Then you marry them, do you?&#8221;
+&#8220;Yes, when I have to. It&#8217;s the easiest way.&#8221;
+&#8220;Then this girl&mdash;Elsie&mdash;is living in your&mdash;a&mdash;a&mdash;hotel?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; replied Druce hesitatingly, &#8220;she&#8217;s
+gone away.&#8221; Then he added quickly, &#8220;but she&#8217;ll
+be back.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gone away? I don&#8217;t understand.&#8221;
+&#8220;Oh, we had a family row this morning. I
+told her that if she wanted to get along in
+Chicago she&#8217;d have to discard her Millville
+morals and be a good fellow. She&#8217;s squeamish.
+I let her understand that she&#8217;d have to&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I see,&#8221; said Miss Masters. &#8220;She thought
+that, because she was your wife she wouldn&#8217;t
+have to drink with the patrons in your cafe.
+When you told her she&#8217;d have to, she got
+angry and walked out. Is that it?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re wise,&#8221; replied Druce admiringly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You say she&#8217;ll be back. How do you know
+that?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know it, because she hasn&#8217;t got a dime.
+With her it&#8217;s a case of coming back or starving
+to death in the Levee, and I know enough
+about her to be sure she&#8217;ll be back. She can&#8217;t
+get away from me.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;And the other girl, Patience?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;She thinks this is a sort of a music hall.
+She&#8217;s coming here with her mother Saturday
+night. Before she discovers that this place isn&#8217;t
+exactly what she believes it is, Harry Boland
+will see her up there on the stand with the
+rest of my talent. I&#8217;ll get the girl out of the
+place before he can talk to her. That will put
+the kibosh on their love affair.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you expect to do with these girls
+afterward?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, we have facilities here&#8221;&mdash;Druce&#8217;s smile
+was evil&mdash;&#8220;for breaking &#8217;em in. Afterward&mdash;well,
+I don&#8217;t know. It may be dangerous to
+keep them around Chicago. I can get a good
+price for them.&#8221; He laughed. &#8220;You know
+I&#8217;m a dealer in live stock.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, yes, you expect to sell them. That&#8217;s
+not a bad idea.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now look here, kid,&#8221; said Druce, &#8220;you&#8217;ve
+asked me a lot of questions and got fair
+answers. It&#8217;s a poor game that can&#8217;t be
+played both ways. I want to know something
+about you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Miss Masters curled herself up comfortably
+in a corner of the booth. She looked challengingly
+at Druce.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shoot,&#8221; she said.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, who are you?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know my name. It&#8217;s Masters.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t mean that. What are you?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Miss Masters replied quickly, &#8220;I&mdash;why&mdash;I&#8217;m
+a girl, and&mdash;you say yourself I&#8217;m wise.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t have to tell me that. Where did
+you come from? Where did Boland get you?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Before I went to work for Boland I was
+in St. Louis.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What did you do there?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I shan&#8217;t answer that question&mdash;yet.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, you seem to know a great deal about
+the kind of business I&#8217;m in. Where did you
+get your information?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Picked it up.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;In St. Louis?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I learned some things there.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you ever been in this business?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What business?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, this cafe business&mdash;and the rest
+of it.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You say I know a good deal about it.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, you know a lot about it. And you&#8217;ve
+got your information from the inside. And
+Boland knows you know a lot about it. Otherwise
+he wouldn&#8217;t have sent you down here.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes?&#8221; Miss Masters was silent for a moment.
+&#8220;Druce,&#8221; she went on, &#8220;did you ever
+hear of the Broughton Club?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure, that swell joint in St. Louis?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. Well, I&#8217;m interested in it.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;As owner?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Never mind about that. I&#8217;m interested in
+it and one of my reasons for calling on you
+is to get some girls for the club.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You want to buy some girls?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You said it.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;From me?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;From you, if I can get the right figures.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span>
+If I can&#8217;t, I&#8217;ll try elsewhere. You&#8217;re not the
+only &#8216;dealer in live stock&#8217; in the Levee.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll make the figures right.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m interested in this place.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;In the Cafe Sinister?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I want to know something about your
+methods. We don&#8217;t know it all in St. Louis.
+I think I can pick up a little information here.
+I&#8217;m going back to St. Louis in a month. I
+want to take some girls back with me, and I&#8217;d
+like to find out just how a first class joint like
+the Cafe Sinister is operated in Chicago.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is this a proposition?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, it&#8217;s a proposition.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right. Go on.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I want to live at the Cafe Sinister during
+the week our deal for the lease is on. I&#8217;ll take
+rooms in your&mdash;a&mdash;hotel, upstairs.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;And I&#8217;ll be around the cafe, and making
+myself at home generally,&#8221; added Miss Masters,
+reassuringly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go as far as you like,&#8221; answered Druce,
+&#8220;and if you need a body guard,&#8221; he added,
+with a knowing wink, &#8220;why, you know
+me.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span></p>
+<p>Miss Masters&#8217; eyes narrowed. &#8220;I told you
+I could look out for myself,&#8221; she answered.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll have to look out for yourself,&#8221;
+retorted Druce significantly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let me do the worrying about that.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Druce was silent. He had determined to
+accept Miss Masters&#8217; offer. He felt that she
+was walking into his trap and yet, so great had
+grown his respect for her that he did not know
+his next move.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll have a suite prepared for you,&#8221; he said.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s settled, then.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Miss Masters got up from her seat. As she
+did so Druce attempted a caress. &#8220;I&#8217;m going
+to collect part of the rent in advance,&#8221; he said.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Are you?&#8221; Miss Masters pushed him
+away sharply. He did not repeat his indiscretion.
+Instead he stood back respectfully to
+let her pass. In the palm of her hand with
+the muzzle pointing firmly in his direction he
+saw a small, steel-blue magazine pistol. The
+girl&#8217;s finger was on the trigger.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you&#8217;ll have one of your servants show
+me the suite,&#8221; said Miss Masters, &#8220;I&#8217;ll telephone
+for my maid.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span></p>
+<p>Then she added, seemingly as an afterthought,
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I never pay the rent, Mr. Druce, until the
+end of the week.&#8221;
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XX_DRUCE_SIGNS_A_SIGNIFICANT_DOCUMENT' id='XX_DRUCE_SIGNS_A_SIGNIFICANT_DOCUMENT'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2>
+<h3>DRUCE SIGNS A SIGNIFICANT DOCUMENT</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Mary Randall realized that she
+was playing a dangerous game. She
+had placed herself in Druce&#8217;s power because
+taking that risk had seemed to her the best
+way to gather evidence against the Cafe Sinister.
+She had not acted without laying her
+plans carefully. Her whole campaign for the
+week that she was to be in Druce&#8217;s dive had
+been mapped out before she set foot so unexpectedly
+inside his door.
+</p>
+<p>The girl depended upon two things for protection.
+First was Druce&#8217;s fear of the power
+of John Boland. She believed that the man
+would not dare to use physical violence against
+her if he thought she was what she had represented
+herself to be&mdash;John Boland&#8217;s agent.
+Second was his desire for a renewal of the
+lease to the cafe. Mary was confident that
+Druce would plot against her but she was
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span>
+equally sure he would not move until after the
+lease had been signed. If both these protections
+failed, she still had her magazine pistol.
+And she knew how to use it.
+</p>
+<p>In coming into Druce&#8217;s place she had deliberately
+counted on the ascendancy which she
+knew her beauty and her air of mystery had
+obtained over him. She was playing the
+pander at his own game. It was an extremely
+dangerous game but she believed she could
+beat him. And the results would be worth the
+risk.
+</p>
+<p>Meanwhile her greatest anxiety was to prevent
+Druce from communicating in any way
+with John Boland. If Druce should learn
+through Boland that he had not delegated her
+to negotiate the lease, that she was in fact
+Mary Randall, then she would be face to face
+with a fight for her life. But she was quite
+sure that Druce would not communicate with
+Boland. She knew the workings of Boland&#8217;s
+office well enough to understand how difficult
+it was for Druce to get a word with the master
+of the Electric Trust and as a special precaution
+she had put an inhibition upon him not
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span>
+to call at or telephone to the office. Finally,
+before she had quite finished with Boland, she
+had arranged with his telephone operator that
+no calls from Druce should be put on John
+Boland&#8217;s wire.
+</p>
+<p>Mary&#8217;s first move after she had been shown
+to her suite was to telephone to Anna, her
+maid, whom she had left nearby before making
+her visit to the cafe. Anna arrived in a short
+time with a porter carrying a couple of heavy
+suit cases.
+</p>
+<p>When the two girls were at last alone in
+their rooms they began preparing for their
+week&#8217;s stay by making a thorough examination
+of the locks on the doors. They found
+them secure. Then, closing the keyholes, they
+proceeded to unpack the suit cases. Out of
+them they took, besides various articles of
+apparel, a complete dictagraph apparatus.
+The transmitter was hidden under a mat on a
+table in the reception room that formed part
+of the suite. The wires were carried down the
+leg of the table and under the carpets to a
+small closet; there Anna installed a small table,
+a pocket electric light and her stenographer&#8217;s
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span>
+notebook. A small camera was hidden in one
+of the window curtains. It was focused so as
+to take in the space surrounding the table in
+the reception room. When one of the curtains
+was raised the plate was automatically exposed
+and the raising of the curtain at the same time
+let enough light into the room to take an excellent
+picture.
+</p>
+<p>With these arrangements completed, Mary
+began a tour of the cafe building. She found
+Druce eager to serve her. By him she was
+guided to every part of the place, meeting the
+people she wanted to know and learning all of
+the details of the infamous business in which
+Druce, Anson and Boland were jointly embarked.
+For three days she went about these
+tours of inspection undisturbed. In the evenings
+she had the women habitues of the place
+in her rooms, talking to them as if she were
+one of their own kind and learning from them
+the squalid stories of their downfall and the
+part Druce and Anson had played in it.
+Anna was not in sight during any of these interviews.
+She was seated at the little table
+with the dictagraph at her ear, her fountain
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span>
+pen in her hand and her stenographer&#8217;s notebook
+before her. Nothing that was said
+escaped her.
+</p>
+<p>Meanwhile Druce was having an unpleasant
+time with Anson. He had tried at first to
+keep from him the fact of Miss Masters&#8217; residence
+in their &#8220;hotel.&#8221; &#8220;The mastiff,&#8221; however,
+was not long deceived. When he confronted
+Druce with what he had learned,
+Druce with an assumption of frankness told
+him of his interview with Miss Masters and
+attempted to reassure him.
+</p>
+<p>Anson, however, was by nature suspicious.
+&#8220;I don&#8217;t like it,&#8221; he snarled. &#8220;You&#8217;ve let a
+spy into the house.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Druce tried at first to argue with him. Then
+he grew angry. Finally he turned on his
+partner.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You mind your own business,&#8221; he advised
+him, white with rage. &#8220;I&#8217;ll manage this thing.
+The girl&#8217;s mine. I&#8217;m going to have her.
+Keep away from her. By God, if you interfere
+with my schemes I&#8217;ll kill you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Anson was not terrified by this threat. He
+knew that in any physical encounter he was
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span>
+more than a match for the slender Druce. But
+he feared to quarrel with his partner. He
+was too appreciative of Druce&#8217;s value to him
+and their enterprise to want to lose him. He
+growled a smothered string of curses, but
+Druce had his way.
+</p>
+<p>Druce had become so much infatuated with
+Miss Masters that he had thrown caution to
+the winds. Never before in his life had he
+been under the influence of any woman. Now
+that such an influence had seized him he was
+overwhelmed by it. He had arrived perilously
+close to the point where, if he had known the
+true character of the woman he was sheltering,
+his infatuation would have led him to risk the
+danger merely to have her near him. His
+thoughts were on her constantly, his mind
+busy during every waking hour on schemes for,
+entrapping her.
+</p>
+<p>Mary had taken up her abode in the Cafe
+Sinister on Monday. On Thursday she sent
+for Druce. He came to her suite eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>He found Miss Masters sitting at the table
+in the reception room. He sat down opposite
+her and facing the window at her invitation.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Druce,&#8221; said the girl, &#8220;I&#8217;ve sent for you
+because I want to close that deal for the girls
+I spoke to you about.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The girls you&#8217;re going to take back to St.
+Louis?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I&#8217;ll want five or six.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve been looking over my stock?&#8221; said
+Druce with a leer.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; replied Miss Masters, concealing
+her repulsion.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I guess we can come to terms. Who
+do you want?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I only care for four of the girls I have
+seen,&#8221; replied Miss Masters. &#8220;I want that
+little girl, Maida, the blonde girl you call
+Luella, Clara, and that young brunette,
+Esther.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gee,&#8221; said Druce, &#8220;you don&#8217;t want much,
+do you? Why those are the youngest and
+prettiest girls we&#8217;ve got in the place. That
+Luella has only been in the district three
+weeks. All the rest of them are new ones.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know it. That&#8217;s why I want them.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;ll cost you money.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I expect to pay money for them.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I want $200 apiece for those four girls.&#8221;
+The price was high. Druce thought Miss
+Masters would reject it.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very well,&#8221; returned Miss Masters. &#8220;That
+will be $800.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re willing to pay it?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. I&#8217;m going to spend $1,000 with you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Four ain&#8217;t enough?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I&#8217;m going to take two more, if I can
+get them. You say you expect to have these
+Welcome sisters?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sure, I&#8217;ll have them.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, you told me you didn&#8217;t want to run
+the risk of keeping them around Chicago. I&#8217;ll
+take them off your hands.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You expect to get them for $200?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Certainly. You don&#8217;t know yet that you
+can deliver. Has the one you married come
+back?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I&#8217;ll deliver.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not as sure of that as you are, but I&#8217;m
+willing to speculate on it. I&#8217;ll make you this
+proposition. I&#8217;ll write you a check for $1,000
+and take my chance on you delivering the six
+girls I name.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;No checks go,&#8221; said Druce.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll have to take a check if you do business
+with me.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Druce considered. He wanted the $1,000.
+He did not want to quarrel with Miss Masters.
+He capitulated.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Write the check,&#8221; he said.
+</p>
+<p>Miss Masters took a check-book from a
+drawer and drew a check, payable to Druce.
+She handed it to him. He looked at the paper
+doubtfully.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll have to indorse that,&#8221; he said.
+</p>
+<p>Miss Masters laughed.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Certainly,&#8221; she said, &#8220;you&#8217;ll have to indorse
+it unless you want to keep it as a souvenir.&#8221;
+She smiled at him. &#8220;Druce,&#8221; she said, &#8220;you&#8217;ll
+never get along in this business if you&#8217;re a
+coward.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s direct evidence against me.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t trust me?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right, girlie. I&#8217;ll trust you.&#8221; He
+folded the check and put it in his pocket.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, we&#8217;ll have to have a bit of writing.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No writing for mine,&#8221; retorted Druce.
+&#8220;This check is plenty.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Mr. Druce,&#8221; Miss Masters spoke
+appealingly. &#8220;You don&#8217;t think that&#8217;s fair, do
+you? You&#8217;ve got my check.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I guess it&#8217;s you that&#8217;s not trusting me
+now,&#8221; said Druce.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;But you admit yourself that you may not
+deliver.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No I don&#8217;t. I will deliver.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;But this isn&#8217;t business.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s the way we do this kind of business
+in Chi.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Miss Masters got up from the table, as if
+exasperated.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Look here, Mr. Druce,&#8221; she said. &#8220;How
+can signing an agreement covering this sale
+hurt you? Oh, what a lot of cowards you &#8216;live
+stock dealers&#8217; are! Can&#8217;t you see that if you
+sign this agreement with me I&#8217;m incriminated
+as well as you are? The Mann act gets the
+buyer as well as the seller.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, what&#8217;s the agreement?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It says simply this: &#8216;In consideration of
+$1,000 I agree to deliver two days from date
+the following girls&#8217;&mdash;I&#8217;ll write in their names&mdash;&#8216;to
+Miss Masters.&#8217;&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re not trying to put anything over?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did it ever strike you that by selling these
+girls to me you&#8217;d have John Boland where
+you wanted him?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Boland?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m his agent.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;All right.&#8221; Druce snatched up the paper
+and read it. &#8220;Write in the names.&#8221; Miss
+Masters wrote the names of six girls into the
+document. She handed it back to Druce and
+picked up a pen.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just a moment,&#8221; she said, giving him the
+pen. &#8220;It&#8217;s dark here. I&#8217;ll raise the curtain.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>She stepped quickly across the room and
+adjusted the curtain so that the sunlight fell
+full across Druce as he signed his name to the
+agreement. As he finished the last stroke he
+heard a faint &#8220;click.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What was that?&#8221; he demanded anxiously.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The curtain caught on the window latch,&#8221;
+replied Miss Masters. She picked up the
+agreement and blotted the signature. &#8220;Thank
+you,&#8221; she said, &#8220;now I&#8217;ve got something for
+my $1,000.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Druce laughed uneasily. The maid, Anna,
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span>
+entered from an adjoining apartment. Druce
+realized uncomfortably that the interview was
+over.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; he said, going to the door and
+smiling sentimentally at Miss Masters, &#8220;so
+long. See you later.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; replied Miss Masters in a tone he
+didn&#8217;t just like, &#8220;I&#8217;ll see you later.&#8221;
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XXI_DRUCE_PROVES_A_TRUE_PROPHET' id='XXI_DRUCE_PROVES_A_TRUE_PROPHET'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2>
+<h3>DRUCE PROVES A TRUE PROPHET</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Saturday night begins at the Cafe
+Sinister at nine o&#8217;clock. At that hour
+the twin columns of glass at its portal are
+lighted and the Levee pours the first of its
+revelers into the spacious ground floor drinking
+room. The orchestra strikes up the first
+of its syncopated melodies; the barkeepers
+arrange their polished glasses in glittering
+rows; the waiters, soft-footed and watchful,
+take their places at their appointed stations.
+</p>
+<p>The revelers come in an order regulated by
+inexorable circumstance. In the van are the
+women with the professional escorts, haggard
+creatures who have served their time in the
+district and who are on the brink of that
+oblivion which means starvation and slow
+death. Youth and health have flown and now
+no paint nor cosmetic can cloak their real
+character. They must come early because
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span>
+their need of money is bitter and a watchful
+eye for opportunity must take the place of the
+physical allurement that once made life in the
+tenderloin so easy. They sink into their seats
+and wait, contemptuous of their escorts, and
+yet pitifully dependent upon them. For
+without the escorts they cannot enter the Cafe
+Sinister. That is a tribute which the rulers
+of the tenderloin, through them, pays tribute
+to the majesty of the law.
+</p>
+<p>A group of hardened rounders follows.
+These are men to whom the Cafe Sinister and
+the district have become a habit. They bring
+with them women of their own kind&mdash;women
+who, through years of dissipation, have still,
+like misers, managed to hoard some trace of
+bloom. They drink deeply, for the men are
+spenders. The wine flows free and the talk
+grows loud. Occasionally a man quarrels
+profanely with his companion and a soft-footed
+waiter with a thug&#8217;s face whispers him
+to sullen silence.
+</p>
+<p>An hour flies by. Now the Levee, roused
+from its sodden, day-long slumber, is wide
+awake. The way between the twin pillars at
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span>
+the Cafe Sinister&#8217;s entrance is choked with
+the flood of merry-makers. These newcomers
+are not so easy to classify as their predecessors.
+They are the crowd from the street,&mdash;the thief
+with his girl pal, eager to spend the plunder of
+their last successful exploit; the big corporation&#8217;s
+entertainer, out to show a party of
+country customers the sights of a great city;
+the visitor from afar, lonely and seeking
+excitement; the man about town, the respectable
+woman who with a trusted male confidant
+seeks shady and clandestine amusement; college
+students with unspoiled appetites off for
+a lark; women of the district still new enough
+to the life of vice to find pleasure in its excitements;
+periodical drinkers out for a night of
+it; clerks, cashiers, bookkeepers, schoolboys
+and roués.
+</p>
+<p>And here and there, weaving in and out
+through this heterogeneous mob lurks the
+pander seeking for his prey&mdash;the ignorant
+young girl, trembling on the verge of her first
+step into the depths, the little lost sister of
+tomorrow.
+</p>
+<p>By ten o&#8217;clock the merry making in the
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span>
+Cafe Sinister had attained the vociferousness
+of a riot. As the swift-footed waiters passed
+more and more liquor about, the voices of the
+speakers rose higher and higher. At last the
+orchestra itself could scarcely be heard. The
+singers, half maudlin themselves, and knowing
+they could not be heard above the universal
+din, abandoned harmony and resorted to
+shouts and suggestive gyrations. A woman
+fell helplessly into the arms of her escort who,
+gloating, winked knowingly at a male companion.
+Another drunkenly attempted to
+dance and was restrained by the waiters. An
+elderly reprobate, convoying two unsteady
+young girls, importuned Druce for one of his
+private dining rooms.
+</p>
+<p>Druce and Anson watched over the revelers
+and directed the entertainers. &#8220;The Mastiff,&#8221;
+comfortably full of his favorite liquor, whisky,
+glowered on the crowd with as near an aspect
+of good nature as he was able to muster.
+Druce, who knew his own success in business
+was due to alertness of mind and who was
+almost an ascetic in the matter of drink, was
+no less at peace with the world.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Money in that crowd,&#8221; rumbled the huge
+Anson.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; replied Druce, &#8220;business is mighty
+good.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;How about our lease?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The blow-off comes tonight.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re sure of your plans?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am, if young Boland shows up.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, he&#8217;ll be here?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I wrote him an anonymous letter
+telling him if he wanted to see his girl, he could
+find her singing at the Cafe Sinister.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;That ought to fetch him. How about the
+old man?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;He sent me word today that he&#8217;d be here
+and that he&#8217;d dropped hints to the son he&#8217;d
+heard some bad stuff about the girl.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You haven&#8217;t talked to him?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No; I got my orders. I stayed away.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;How about the Welcome kid you married?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s down and out. I sent one of our
+cappers early in the week to look her up.
+Somebody&#8217;d slipped her a lone five dollar bill.
+She woke up yesterday morning broke. I
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span>
+don&#8217;t know where she&#8217;s eating, but I&#8217;ve sent
+word through the district to keep her hungry.
+She&#8217;ll be in tonight.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Druce spoke with indifference, but the
+truth was that he was not at all sure that
+Elsie Welcome would return. He had begun
+to respect the girl&#8217;s strength of character. He
+had scarcely finished his sentence when he
+gave a gasp of relief.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ah-h!&#8221; he muttered.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s that?&#8221; demanded Anson.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Here she comes now.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>As they looked down through the drinking
+room they saw the slender figure of a girl
+approaching. She came slowly, supporting
+her wavering steps with the backs of the
+revelers&#8217; chairs. Her face was pale and
+desperately haggard. Several of the men as
+she passed clutched at her skirts and shouted
+invitations at her. She tore herself away from
+them and made straight for the place where
+Druce and Anson were standing. For a moment,
+Druce almost felt sorry for her.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re back, kid?&#8221; he said softly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; replied the girl, fiercely.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re going to be good?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Elsie burst out sobbing. It was her last
+struggle.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come now, Elsie,&#8221; Druce spoke almost
+tenderly. &#8220;Don&#8217;t snivel.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Martin,&#8221; the girl gasped appealingly.
+&#8220;O, my God! Be kind to me.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t worry about me, girlie. You forget
+that Sunday school stuff and you&#8217;ll get along
+with me fine. You&#8217;re hungry, aren&#8217;t you,
+kid?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m starving,&#8221; replied the girl.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come with me. I&#8217;ll have the chef get you
+a big feed. After that I want you to come
+back and do what I tell you. I won&#8217;t be hard
+on you, kid. You&#8217;ll not have to work tonight.
+All I&#8217;ll want you to do is sit up on the stand
+with my other entertainers.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Elsie was too broken in spirit to reply. She
+followed her master dumbly. He led her to
+one of his small private dining rooms, arranged
+a seat for her and turned on the lights.
+Then he went back to the kitchen to order the
+girl&#8217;s meal.
+</p>
+<p>After Druce had left, Elsie folded her arms
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span>
+on the table and cushioning her head on them,
+began to weep softly. Druce returned with
+the food, kissed her to take the sting from the
+feed, which both he and she knew was the
+price of her shame, and left her. The girl ate
+ravenously. Afterward she fell into an uneasy
+slumber against the cushions of the booth.
+</p>
+<p>She was awakened by someone entering
+the room. Looking up, she saw the bowed
+figure and gray hair of an elderly woman.
+The intruder carried a bucket of hot water in
+one hand and a mop in the other. She had
+come into the booth thinking it unoccupied,
+and did not see Elsie until she was very close
+to her.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I beg your pardon,&#8221; she said, dropping
+her mop and bucket and starting back.
+</p>
+<p>Elsie stared at her. Then she stood up, her
+face pale as death, her eyes starting like the
+eyes of one who has seen a vision.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mother!&#8221; she screamed. &#8220;Oh, God!
+Mother!&#8221; and flung herself into her mother&#8217;s
+arms.
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XXII__THE_MILLS_OF_THE_GODS' id='XXII__THE_MILLS_OF_THE_GODS'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2>
+<h3>&#8220;THE MILLS OF THE GODS&#8221;</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>After Druce left Elsie he went back to
+his favorite station behind the musicians&#8217;
+stand. He had been there only a
+moment when he saw the elder Boland enter.
+Boland came in quietly through a side door
+and stood looking about inquiringly.
+</p>
+<p>Druce silently summoned a waiter and
+sent him to Boland with a message. A little
+later the two men were in Druce&#8217;s private
+office alone and the door was closed. They sat
+down at a table.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; said Druce, &#8220;I see you&#8217;re on time.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; replied Boland coldly. &#8220;I make it
+a point to keep my engagements. Your
+arrangements are complete, I suppose. I
+haven&#8217;t heard a word from you all week.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>There was a petulance in his tone the reason
+for which Druce did not comprehend.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s going to work out all right. One of
+the Welcome girls is here now. I&#8217;m expecting
+the other.&#8221; He pushed an electric button. A
+waiter appeared.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go out and ask the professor if that new
+entertainer I&#8217;m expecting has arrived,&#8221; he
+ordered.
+</p>
+<p>The waiter was gone but a few seconds.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s come,&#8221; he reported. &#8220;She&#8217;s up on
+the stand and will go on right after the intermission.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s her,&#8221; said Druce to Boland. The
+waiter vanished.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good,&#8221; said Boland. &#8220;Druce,&#8221; he went
+on, &#8220;I&#8217;m pleased with the way you&#8217;ve handled
+this. Here&#8217;s something to prove it.&#8221; He took
+a document from his breast pocket and passed
+it across the table. It was the lease.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thanks,&#8221; said Druce, keenly pleased by
+an inspection of the papers, &#8220;that looks good
+to me.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s yours,&#8221; returned Boland, &#8220;but of
+course I expect you to carry out your part of
+the contract.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;How about Harry?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;No need to worry about that. He&#8217;ll be
+here.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, we&#8217;re waiting on him.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>There was a pause. Neither man seemed to
+know how to continue the conversation.
+Druce broke the silence.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Boland,&#8221; he asked, &#8220;what have you got
+against this girl?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Boland resented the question, but was compelled
+to answer.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;She wants to marry my son. I don&#8217;t think
+she&#8217;s fit to marry him. If she were, she
+wouldn&#8217;t be in a place like this.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Druce laughed unpleasantly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know very well,&#8221; he replied, &#8220;that she
+wouldn&#8217;t be here if I hadn&#8217;t managed it for
+you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Boland made no reply for this. Druce
+went on.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tell me,&#8221; he demanded, &#8220;on the square,
+now, is that all you&#8217;ve got against this girl?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just what do you mean by that, Druce?&#8221;
+demanded Boland, eying him calmly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Didn&#8217;t you know the Welcomes before this
+girl came into your son&#8217;s life?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span></p>
+<p>Boland turned very pale.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s an idiotic question,&#8221; he answered.
+&#8220;How would a man in my position know
+people like the Welcomes?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;When I was in Millville,&#8221; replied Druce
+evenly, &#8220;I heard a good deal about old Tom
+Welcome. It seems that someone stole an
+invention from him.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just why should I be interested in that
+story?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; replied Druce. &#8220;It just
+struck me that you might be. There was no
+harm in asking, was there?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Boland ignored the question.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Look here,&#8221; he said, changing the subject,
+&#8220;suppose you get this lease from me, are you
+sure you can continue doing business as you
+are without police interference?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Druce laughed and picked up the receiver
+of the telephone which stood on the table.
+There was an attachment that enabled Boland
+to hear at the same time. He handed the
+second receiver to the master of the Electric
+Trust.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the idea?&#8221; inquired Boland.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m just going to answer your question.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He called for a number.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s police station R,&#8221; said Boland.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know,&#8221; replied Druce, &#8220;just listen.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello,&#8221; he said presently, &#8220;is this you,
+Cap?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Boland heard a familiar voice answer
+affirmatively.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;This is Druce talking,&#8221; the dive-owner
+went on, &#8220;Druce of the Cafe Sinister. Say,
+we&#8217;ll be open all night tonight. Don&#8217;t make
+any trouble for us, you understand. Just let
+your fellows know that they&#8217;re not to hear
+anything that goes on in this beat. I&#8217;ll send
+McEdwards around in the morning with a
+special envelope for you. Get me?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Druce cut off the two telephones.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; he asked triumphantly, &#8220;what do
+you think of that?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Boland laughed cynically.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Rather good,&#8221; he answered. &#8220;I know
+your friend, the captain. The fact is, I know
+him rather well. We belong to the same
+church.&#8221; He chuckled over his own joke.
+&#8220;However,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;I didn&#8217;t come here
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span>
+to be entertained, nor to be initiated into the
+mysteries of the police department. Let&#8217;s get
+down to business. I&#8217;ve got to get out of town
+tonight. I&#8217;m going to &#8217;Frisco.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;To &#8217;Frisco?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I&#8217;m in a mess. Mary Randall&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Randall! Boland, don&#8217;t tell me you&#8217;re
+scared of that woman, too.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Man alive, haven&#8217;t you heard? She got
+into my office in disguise and stole a lot of my
+papers. I don&#8217;t know just yet what she&#8217;s got,
+but I&#8217;ve decided to hunt seclusion for a while.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;She was disguised?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, she came into my office as private
+secretary. I trusted her implicitly. You&#8217;ll
+remember her. She gave the name of Miss
+Masters.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Druce stood up with an exclamation. His
+face had gone white and he clutched at the
+table for support. Boland stared at him in
+astonishment.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s hit you?&#8221; he demanded.
+</p>
+<p>Druce made no reply. Through his mind
+was passing the panorama of how he had delivered
+himself bound hand and foot to the
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span>
+girl he thought he was entrapping. Suddenly,
+he turned and dashed in a frenzy out of the
+room. He was bound, with murder in his
+heart, for Miss Masters&#8217; suite.
+</p>
+<p>As he came tearing out of the office he
+found himself suddenly seized and halted.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let me go,&#8221; screamed Druce, &#8220;damn you,
+let me go.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He fought to release himself, but vainly.
+He looked up into the face of Harry Boland.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s your hurry?&#8221; inquired young
+Boland coolly. &#8220;Don&#8217;t be in a rush. I want
+to ask you a few questions.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He produced a letter from his pocket.
+Druce recognized it at a glance as the
+anonymous note he had written to lure young
+Boland to the cafe.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you write that?&#8221; demanded Boland.
+</p>
+<p>Druce struggled in a frenzy.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;To hell with you and your questions,&#8221; he
+yelled. &#8220;Let me by or I&#8217;ll kill you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He grappled with Boland and the two men
+wrestled out to the edge of the big drinking
+room.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You wrote it,&#8221; Boland hissed in his ear.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a lie. I&#8217;m going to give you the beating
+of your life.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The elder Boland, who had followed Druce,
+fell upon his son. Harry turned and recognized
+his father.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You here?&#8221; he demanded, facing his
+parent.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; replied John Boland, &#8220;I&#8217;m here. I
+came, because I had been informed that you
+were to meet a woman of the tenderloin in
+this place; and when I find you, I find you
+fighting with a dive-keeper.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Harry dropped the struggling Druce and
+turned on his father.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you mean?&#8221; he asked, defiantly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I mean just that,&#8221; replied John Boland.
+He turned toward the musicians&#8217; stand and
+pointed dramatically at Patience Welcome,
+who, her face almost as pale as her white lace
+gown, was advancing toward the front of the
+platform to sing.
+</p>
+<p>Harry Boland&#8217;s face went white as hers.
+</p>
+<p>The words he gasped were drowned by a cry,
+Elsie Welcome, coming for the first time since
+her return to Druce into the drinking room,
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span>
+saw her sister standing upon the rostrum,
+poised to sing.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Patience! Patience!&#8221; she screamed in a
+voice of despair. &#8220;Oh, my sister, what
+brought you to this place?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>She fell to the floor fainting. The whole
+cafe was in an uproar.
+</p>
+<p>Carter Anson, roused to fury by the disturbance,
+fought his way through the crowd
+to the place where he had seen her fall.
+</p>
+<p>Druce, escaped from Harry Boland,
+struggled from another angle to make his way
+through the mob. As if by magic half a score
+of policemen suddenly hemmed in the fighting
+mass. Druce, struggling blindly to make a
+pathway for himself, suddenly looked up to
+see Mary Randall standing on a table on the
+opposite side of the room directing the police.
+A wave of maniacal anger overwhelmed him.
+In a flash his hand went to his pocket and
+reappeared with a pistol.
+</p>
+<p>There was an explosion, a man&#8217;s yell of
+rage, followed by a choking gulp of mortal
+anguish. Druce was seized and flung to the
+floor.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span></p>
+<p>At the same moment Mary Randall, leaping
+down from her table, ran to the center of
+the room. Carter Anson lay there, struggling
+through his last throes,&mdash;the bullet in his
+brain.
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XXIII_AFTER_THE_TRAGEDY' id='XXIII_AFTER_THE_TRAGEDY'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2>
+<h3>AFTER THE TRAGEDY</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Mary Randall stood beside the
+dead body of Carter Anson. Such
+tragedy had not entered into her plans, nor
+had she conceived what it might be to see a
+man die bearing the bullet intended for her
+own intrepid heart. A strange numbness possessed
+her faculties.
+</p>
+<p>She heard the voice of Mrs. Welcome
+beside her. The mother was speaking with
+anguished entreaty to Elsie. The girl had
+risen to her feet and was gazing with a dreadful
+fascination at Druce, writhing in the
+grasp of the officers who seized him.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come, Miss Randall,&#8221; one of her police
+aids said to the reformer. &#8220;This is no place
+for you&mdash;now.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;There must be something I can do,&#8221; she
+spoke with a flash of her usual energy, then
+laid her hand on Mrs. Welcome&#8217;s arm.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Harvey Spencer is here,&#8221; she said. &#8220;There
+he is trying to get through the crowd to us
+now. Perhaps he can help you to persuade
+your daughter to go away with you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Elsie Welcome looked at Mary Randall,
+who was destined never to forget the pitiful
+revelation of the girl&#8217;s dark eyes. Mary
+Randall read that despair of the lost mingled
+with woman&#8217;s intense clinging to the man she
+has chosen,&mdash;her strange stubborn clinging,
+when, entangled, she hears an echo of happier
+and purer love.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;How dare you meddle in people&#8217;s affairs
+like this and put us into such dreadful
+trouble?&#8221; Elsie asked of the one who would
+help her. Then to her mother, pulling away
+from her longing clasp, &#8220;You understand
+that at a time like this my place is with my
+husband.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Elsie doubled under the arms which would
+have detained her and ran out of the cafe.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go to Millville, Mrs. Welcome, back to
+your old home, as soon you can. Let me look
+after Elsie. Go to this boarding-house (handing
+her a card). Go there with Patience tonight,
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span>
+and I will send you some money
+tomorrow.&#8221; Miss Randall spoke quickly, and
+before Mrs. Welcome realized it, had hurried
+in pursuit of Elsie.
+</p>
+<p>But Elsie Welcome had disappeared.
+</p>
+<p>Mary Randall found herself standing, as
+all who work for those who sin and suffer
+must often stand, baffled by evil&#8217;s resistance.
+Saddened by somewhat of a divine sadness,
+Mary went across to the rendezvous where her
+faithful Anna awaited her and left the field.
+</p>
+<p>Harvey Spencer came to her downtown
+office early next day. He found her surrounded
+by her strongest allies, already in conference
+as to the best means of pursuing their
+crusade which had aroused Chicago with the
+startling news of The Raid of Mary Randall
+on the Cafe Sinister, headlined in the morning
+newspapers.
+</p>
+<p>Harvey Spencer had taken Mrs. Welcome
+to the boarding-house designated by Miss
+Randall where she was joined by Patience&mdash;and
+of Patience you shall know presently. The
+remainder of the night, or most of it, he spent
+trying to learn what had become of Elsie.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I thought she might be still in that&mdash;hotel,
+as they call it,&#8221; Harvey, haggard with his
+night&#8217;s search, told Miss Randall. &#8220;I went
+to the jail too, but of course they would not
+let her inside there so late, even if she had
+wanted to.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;She is sure to go there today to see Druce.
+Try again, Mr. Spencer, when you go out
+from here,&#8221; said Miss Randall.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;And keep you eye on Druce. Nobody will
+suspect you of being a detective. You can
+telephone here if you see any activity around
+him,&#8221; said a clever special from headquarters.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good scheme,&#8221; commended the journalist,
+another of Mary Randall&#8217;s strongest aids.
+</p>
+<p>Harvey Spencer made notes of the right
+steps to take and, thanking Miss Randall with
+a curious humility, went out again on his quest.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now we must learn what the vice-moneymakers
+will try to do next,&#8221; said a former
+high official in the municipality. &#8220;Our one
+safe bet is that they will all get together and
+that John Boland, the boss of the bunch, will
+map out the fight against us.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is it a losing fight?&#8221; asked a famous
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_275' name='page_275'></a>275</span>
+banker, known among his intimates as the
+hard-headed enthusiast.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Right against wrong can never be permanently
+a losing fight,&#8221; quietly said a small muscular
+clergyman from the northwest side.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It has taken two thousand years for mankind
+to begin this fight against buying and
+selling young virgins who can be coaxed or
+thrust into the market-place,&#8221; said Mary Randall.
+&#8220;We must fight on, even in one seemingly
+losing field. It is not to be believed that
+the people of this nation will be content to
+submit very much longer to the presence of a
+band of prowling wolves tolerated by courts
+and protected by rascally lawyers whose
+acknowledged trade is to destroy virtue,&mdash;the
+latent motherhood of young women,&mdash;whose
+whole activity is directed to the exploitation of
+our little lost sisters.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Chicago has to lead the fight, as she has
+been one of the leaders in the trade,&#8221; said the
+banker. &#8220;Now, for our next step!&#8221;
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XXIV__THE_HIGHWAY_OF_THE_UPRIGHT' id='XXIV__THE_HIGHWAY_OF_THE_UPRIGHT'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2>
+<h3>&#8220;THE HIGHWAY OF THE UPRIGHT&#8221;</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Up to the moment when he heard the
+report of Druce&#8217;s pistol and saw Carter
+Anson fall, Harry Boland&#8217;s whole being had
+been concentrated in a consuming horror at
+sight of Patience Welcome in the Cafe
+Sinister.
+</p>
+<p>The crack of the pistol restored his composure.
+He saw clearly the infamy of the
+plot against her,&mdash;and against himself. One
+of the conspirators was already dead on the
+scene of this last of many crimes. Druce was
+struggling with the police, taking him for
+murder of Anson, his partner.
+</p>
+<p>John Boland, the third conspirator, faced
+his son in a desperate composure.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come, Harry, we must get out of here.
+It will never do to be seen here&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;For you!&#8221; Harry shook off his father&#8217;s
+hand upon his arm. &#8220;Go, by all means! I
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span>
+shall take care of myself.&#8221; He walked towards
+the singers&#8217; platform beyond the seething
+crowd.
+</p>
+<p>John Boland believed of himself afterwards
+that he would have followed Harry, but at
+the moment he saw a bowed and gray-haired
+woman before him, great fear and horror on
+her face, pressing her way in from scrubbing
+in the booths beyond. The mop and bucket
+with which she had been working were in
+either hand. At sight of his face she dropped
+her tools of toil and clutched his coat. It was
+Tom Welcome&#8217;s widow.
+</p>
+<p>He uttered a cry like a beast of prey as
+he shook her off; but he felt himself shiver,
+conscience making him a coward, and he hurried
+out, reaching by an exit the alley leading
+to a side street.
+</p>
+<p>A police lieutenant suddenly barred his way.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not so fast there,&#8221; said the functionary.
+</p>
+<p>Boland recognized the man as an officer
+whom he had once placed under obligation
+to him.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good evening, Murphy.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Boland!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes. I was passing and heard the shot.
+You understand, of course, that I wish to
+avoid being seen here. Do you know where I
+can find a taxi?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The policeman turned and summoned a
+taxicab with a gesture. Boland got in at the
+open door. He leaned forward and spoke
+with peculiar force, although very low:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;If my son, Harry Boland, happens to pass
+by here, see that he gets into a taxi whose
+driver will bring him to my house, to my house,
+remember, no matter what address he gives.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I understand, sir.&#8221; Probably the young
+man&#8217;s been misbehaving, was what he thought.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Pay the driver&mdash;in advance&mdash;with this, or
+part of it,&#8221; continued Mr. Boland.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thank you, sir; thank you. I understand.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Boland&#8217;s car scuttled away into the
+darkness.
+</p>
+<p>Harry Boland, pushing through the crowd
+to Patience, saw the futile effort of Mrs.
+Welcome to take Elsie from the place. He
+heard Mary Randall&#8217;s brief direction and
+spoke reassuringly to the anguished mother as
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span>
+he pressed a friendly hand on her slight
+shoulder.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I will see that Spencer takes you to that
+boarding-house, where you will be comfortable
+until you can get away. I will bring
+Patience. We may get there before you
+arrive.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>As John Boland foresaw, it was but a few
+moments after his own departure before
+Harry Boland reached the street looking for a
+conveyance. He was assisting Patience Welcome.
+Rather, she was clinging to him,
+sobbing like a frightened child. The shooting
+that had interrupted her pathetic attempt to
+sing was only part of the tragedy to her.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I saw my little sister in there,&#8221; she
+sobbed. &#8220;She called me by name. And such
+a pathetic cry. Did you hear it?&#8221; Patience
+was sadly unnerved and ill.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hush, dear one,&#8221; Harry soothed her.
+&#8220;Your mother, Harvey and Miss Randall
+are there, you know. Whatever can be done,
+they will do. You are my one and only care,
+and just now, dearest girl, you&#8217;re ill. I&#8217;ll take
+you to the place where your mother is going.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_281' name='page_281'></a>281</span>
+Now, please stop crying; try&mdash;try&mdash;everything
+will be all right.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>A taxicab appeared, the chauffeur seemingly
+having anticipated that he was wanted.
+Harry got in, half carrying Patience, and
+expecting to be stopped by an officer. But no
+policeman seemed to see or hear him as he gave
+the driver the address of the old-fashioned
+boarding-house selected by Mary Randall.
+</p>
+<p>They rode in silence. Patience sat apart
+from him, breathing deeply of the fresh air
+at the window of the car as they rushed swiftly
+through the city streets. Slowly he felt the
+tension of the situation released. It was as if
+the dazed girl were freed from the physical
+mesh which had been thrown about her.
+</p>
+<p>Then she spoke quite calmly, in her natural
+voice, but very slowly:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Harry, I once dreamed that I was in terrible
+trouble and that you came and helped
+me. Are you sure I am not dreaming now?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is it a happy dream, if you are, my
+darling?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; faltered Patience. &#8220;It
+is wonderful to be here with&mdash;you.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_282' name='page_282'></a>282</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you trust me, Patience? Do you trust
+me when I tell you that I care more for you
+than I ever knew I could care for anybody?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; she whispered.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I want to make you happy. I want to love
+you and work for you and have you for my
+wife, and make a home with you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Harry!&#8221; She slipped her hand into his.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Harry, I still feel afraid. It was such a
+dreadful thing to see. Was that man killed?
+It was he who asked me to sing. They had
+been disappointed about getting a singer, he
+said, and he gave me ten dollars. All that
+money for a few songs&mdash;it seemed like stealing.
+But I took it. Mother helped put on
+this dress they gave me to sing in. You know
+I went there to help mother clean the place.
+And to think we saw a murder!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;My poor darling!&#8221; Something in his
+voice caused her to put her hand up to his face.
+He felt her finger tips on his eyelids, then
+down his wet cheeks.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;My poor darling!&#8221; She put her arm
+around his neck&mdash;then their trembling lips
+met.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_283' name='page_283'></a>283</span></p>
+<p>Harry was the first to speak. &#8220;All that you
+have gone through brings us closer together
+than anything else in life possibly could,
+Patience. I am so proud of you and so down
+on myself that I ever let you out of my
+sight&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You must not be down on my&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say it, dear! I want to hear my sweetheart
+say the word.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I was going to say &#8216;my dearest,&#8217; but I&#8217;ll
+say,&mdash;if you want me to,&mdash;my&mdash;my husband.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You dear, sweet wife!&#8221; responded Harry.
+</p>
+<p>After a few moments Harry observed that
+they were being taken farther than he had
+directed the man to go. The boarding-house
+was rather close to town. He found that they
+were well on the north side, nearing the quarter
+of his father&#8217;s house. He called to stop
+the driver, but the man remained deaf to his
+efforts, except to increase the speed, and
+presently drew up at the Boland mansion.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;How dare you bring me here?&#8221; Harry
+demanded, stepping out of the car to remonstrate.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Orders.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_284' name='page_284'></a>284</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Orders! I ordered you where I wanted
+you to go. Here, if you need two fares for
+one job, you swindler! Hold on&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Driver! Come here.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Harry heard his father&#8217;s stern voice from
+the opened doorway. &#8220;Driver! Take that
+girl wherever she wants to go. Harry, come
+in here! It&#8217;s time for a show-down.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It certainly is time for a show-down!&#8221;
+Harry assisted Patience from the car. &#8220;You
+may wait and earn the fare I just paid you or
+go to jail,&#8221; he said to the driver, and boldly
+led Patience into his father&#8217;s house.
+</p>
+<p>The elder Boland turned into a den at the
+right of the front hallway and closed the door.
+He looked at Patience with an appraising
+glance, then kindly at his son.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I suppose you must be humored in this
+affair,&#8221; he said in an indulgent manner,
+&#8220;while you haven&#8217;t sense to see that the present
+is scarcely the time to devote yourself to
+any such young woman. What do you say to
+a trip to California? I&#8217;ll foot all the bills, and
+later I will settle what you ask for on you.&#8221;
+He spoke to Patience.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_285' name='page_285'></a>285</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Thank you.&#8221; She spoke without a tremor.
+&#8220;You may do something substantial for my
+mother, because you&mdash;took&mdash;my poor father&#8217;s
+invention. Do you know, sir, that my poor
+father never recovered from that loss?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hell&#8217;s fire!&#8221; yelled John Boland, &#8220;I&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You see, sir,&#8221; interrupted Harry deliberately,
+&#8220;it really is time for a show-down. I
+wouldn&#8217;t go away from Chicago at present,
+even for the wedding journey which we will
+pretend you were honestly offering us. I am
+going to stay and fight it out. You will have
+to stay and fight it out, too.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Me?&#8221; blustered Boland. &#8220;What have I
+got to fight out?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know very well why you were at
+Druce&#8217;s cafe tonight. You were in a plot
+against me, leagued with that fellow, Druce,
+and his tribe, too, against the crusade started
+by Mary Randall to protect girls. You prefer
+to make money exploiting them. Not directly,
+perhaps, but conspicuously indirect.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;So you are turning traitor in&mdash;politics?&#8221;
+sneered his father. &#8220;Taking sides with a crazy
+fanatic, whose presence at the cafe caused the
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_286' name='page_286'></a>286</span>
+death of a good citizen of Chicago. Druce
+did not mean to shoot Anson.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I see your line of defense. It&#8217;s you who
+have turned traitor&mdash;to all that is right in you
+as a man. See, here is the anonymous letter
+which summoned me to the cafe tonight. I
+wish you could tell me that you do not know
+who wrote that note.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Boland read the letter scornfully. &#8220;How
+should I know who writes you letters? Young
+men who make alliances with women who frequent
+such places must expect such messages,&#8221;
+he sneered.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Stop!&#8221; Harry&#8217;s eyes blazed with anger.
+&#8220;We have borne all that we shall of that sort
+from you. One more such syllable and I shall
+not be able to speak to you as to my father&mdash;even
+in outward respect.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You seem already to have forgotten that
+completely.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Harry let the sneer pass. &#8220;It is up to you,
+sir, to decide now&mdash;this moment&mdash;whether or
+not I ever look upon you as my father again.
+I have myself decided that I shall no longer
+be a party to your crimes.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_287' name='page_287'></a>287</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Crimes! My God, this is too much!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are too shrewd a man to have a fool
+for a son. I see plainly that you were leagued
+with Druce and Anson to blacken the woman
+I love. But right is might and love is right.
+The whole dastardly affair enlightens me as
+to the nature of your alliance with that dive.
+Why did you renew the lease to Druce against
+my protest? I never realized until tonight the
+horror of your extensive holdings of tenderloin
+property. I don&#8217;t want another cent from
+such sources.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very well.&#8221; The elder Boland shook with
+anger. &#8220;Get out of this house, you and
+your&mdash;fitting mate. Never let me see your
+face again. Tomorrow I will undertake a
+campaign which will brand you among your
+friends as a son who turned traitor to his father
+in his hour of stress. All my power, all my
+money, will be against you. I will crush you
+as I have every man who has dared oppose me.
+Get out of my house!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Harry gazed at his father in a tumult of
+pity and wrath, but he did not speak.
+</p>
+<p>Patience, her eyes filled with tears, her
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_288' name='page_288'></a>288</span>
+hands nervously clutching her &#8217;kerchief,
+walked up to the angry man.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am sorry for you,&#8221; she said, &#8220;just as I
+always used to be sorry for my poor father
+when he was drunk as you are now with your
+own anger. You know that I <i>am</i> a fitting
+mate for your son. I don&#8217;t understand your
+enmity unless it&#8217;s because we&#8217;re not rich like
+you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Harry caught Patience in his arms. &#8220;Remember,
+it makes no difference to me what my
+father says. I&#8217;m a man and able to choose my
+own wife.&#8221; He looked at his father. &#8220;We
+are going now,&#8221; he said firmly.
+</p>
+<p>There was no reply.
+</p>
+<p>The door closed behind his son. John
+Boland staggered to a couch and falling down
+beside it buried his face in his arms.
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XXV_THE_INTERESTS_VERSUS_MARY_RANDALL' id='XXV_THE_INTERESTS_VERSUS_MARY_RANDALL'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_289' name='page_289'></a>289</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2>
+<h3>THE INTERESTS VERSUS MARY RANDALL</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>If John Boland was shaken by the
+interview with his son, there was no evidence
+of it in his bearing when he appeared at
+the offices of the Electric Trust the following
+morning. As he took his accustomed place at
+his desk he looked tired, but he wore what La
+Salle street knew as his fighting face.
+</p>
+<p>Boland had scarcely established himself for
+the day when he discovered that his decision
+to remain in Chicago had been anticipated by
+those who knew him well in affairs. A dozen
+messages were waiting for him. The forces
+opposed to Mary Randall and her reforms
+looked to him for leadership.
+</p>
+<p>As soon as the details of the raid on the
+Cafe Sinister had become definitely known,
+there had been a quick general movement on
+the part of the leaders of the Levee to get
+together. They met in secret places to deplore
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_290' name='page_290'></a>290</span>
+the taking off of Anson, to form alliances
+against their common enemy. From these
+meetings went appeals for protection to the
+forces higher up.
+</p>
+<p>Aid was invoked of the great financial interests
+involved, directly and indirectly, in the
+traffic in souls. Political overlords of the city
+sent word that the protection demanded should
+not be wanting. Within twelve hours they
+had effected an organization whose ramifications
+extended into wholly unexpected places.
+Then, having formed the machine, they turned
+with one accord to John Boland to guide it.
+</p>
+<p>His acceptance of this leadership was unavoidable,
+even if he had wished to avoid it.
+To reject it would have been treason to the
+forces which had fought side by side with him
+in many a former and desperate campaign.
+To give Boland credit, his courage was equal
+to the task he had no wish to avoid. He knew
+the situation was dangerous, but he was a
+fighter born.
+</p>
+<p>Having made up his mind to give battle,
+Boland addressed himself to the task of outlining
+his campaign. He was too shrewd, too
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_291' name='page_291'></a>291</span>
+thoroughly familiar with all the elements
+making up Chicago, to underestimate his
+enemy. He knew that Mary Randall was
+appealing passionately to a public morality
+which hated the vice system with a wholehearted
+hatred. He knew, too, that when the
+light of truth fell upon his followers they
+would scurry to shelter. His first step was to
+exclude from his offices every employe of
+whose loyalty he could not be completely certain.
+He had his bitter lesson on that score,
+certainly, he told himself.
+</p>
+<p>By telephone and by private messenger he
+proceeded to summon his chief allies to a conference.
+These men arrived within an hour.
+One was a United States Senator, two were
+bankers of impeccable reputation. One was a
+political boss whose authority was a by-word
+in one of the great parties, another a philanthropist
+whose spectacular gratuities to public
+institutions came from huge dividends made
+for him by underpaid employes, and with him
+a clergyman managed by this philanthropist
+and the bankers and a newspaper publisher
+whose little soul had been often bought and
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_292' name='page_292'></a>292</span>
+sold, so that certain of his profession were
+wont to say one could see thumb-marks of
+Mammon on him as he passed by.
+</p>
+<p>Boland did not invite Grogan to this meeting.
+He intended at first to ask him, but his
+friend had shown too much sympathy of late
+with sentiment in life.
+</p>
+<p>John Boland&#8217;s council of war was in session
+for five hours. Every phase of the situation
+was taken up and discussed with thoroughness
+characteristic of these leaders of men, with
+thoroughness, too, that showed full familiarity
+with all the conditions of commercialized vice
+in Chicago. The evasions and bombast wherewith
+these citizens were accustomed to adorn
+their public addresses before vice commission
+inquiries were strangely lacking. They spoke
+among themselves plainly and without pretenses.
+</p>
+<p>Towards the close of this conference John
+Boland offered his plan of action:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Gentlemen,&#8221; he addressed the others from
+the head of his directors&#8217; table in his inner
+office. &#8220;We all agree that what we have most
+to fear is publicity. In fact, if these reformers
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_293' name='page_293'></a>293</span>
+had no publicity they would be without
+weapons. As you are aware, the extent to
+which we can control the newspapers is limited.
+If news comes to them in the regular
+way they are bound to print it, so if we are
+to avoid disastrous publicity we must stop it
+at its source.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;At this moment the &#8216;news&#8217; of the situation
+centers about Druce and those of his employes
+who are now in jail. We can&#8217;t prevent his
+being indicted, we can&#8217;t prevent his case coming
+to trial, if we allow him to remain in jail.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;My friends, I need not tell you that such a
+trial would fill the newspapers with what they
+call &#8216;exposures&#8217; of vice conditions that would
+be calamitous. You all agree with me that
+vice is a terrible thing. We know&mdash;none better,
+as our discussions have indicated&mdash;how
+great this evil is in our city. But there is
+something more menacing than vice,&mdash;namely,
+an ill-controlled and hysterical anti-vice crusade,
+rushing on and intoxicating itself with
+its own sensations, and shaking the business
+fabric of the city.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Think of the want that will come to the
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_294' name='page_294'></a>294</span>
+poor in Chicago if confidence in our leading
+business men should be seriously shaken! It
+is our duty as pillars&mdash;if I may say so&mdash;of
+Chicago&#8217;s financial structure to avoid, to prevent,
+public trials of vice cases.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;How are we to go about suppressing the
+excitement of a trial of Martin Druce?
+Various expedients suggest themselves to us
+all. Is not the most feasible to have Druce
+released on bail?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, to any amount!&#8221; called two voices.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I believe the matter can be arranged,&#8221;
+replied John Boland, graciously. &#8220;Indeed, I
+have taken the liberty to discuss that phase of
+the situation with Judge Grundell. He is of
+opinion that Druce can be freed. My own
+attorneys have given the subject some consideration
+also. As I understand it, Druce is
+booked for murder&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is murder a bailable offense in Chicago?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ordinarily, no. But in this case it can be
+shown that there were extenuating circumstances.
+We can make a showing of facts to
+demonstrate that the killing of Carter Anson
+was purely accidental.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_295' name='page_295'></a>295</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Druce was only trying to shoot Mary Randall,
+as I heard it,&#8221; said a grim voice.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;H&#8217;m! Suppose we say instead that Druce
+thought some one was creating a disturbance
+in his place of business, became excited and
+fired. The bullet hit Anson. Our opponents
+are not expecting, probably, any move by us
+towards the release of Druce on bail. It is
+unlikely that they will resist the application.
+In any event, I have already taken up the
+matter with the judge.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;With Druce freed and resting in safe
+seclusion, I consider it advisable to place him
+in possession of facilities that will enable him
+to remain at liberty for an indefinite period&mdash;until
+this excitement has blown over, you
+understand.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;We can send him out to China on business,&#8221;
+said one.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Exactly. My attorney has a young man
+who will see that he is rightly started on his
+journey, avoiding all publicity. The cases of
+his employes will come on for trial; but with
+Druce out of the way, it will be extremely
+difficult for our opponents to obtain any convictions.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_296' name='page_296'></a>296</span>
+Thus this whole sensation will fall
+flat and the reform crusaders will find themselves
+discredited before the public.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Applause welcomed John Boland&#8217;s summing
+up of the situation and his formulation
+of a practical plan. Members of the conference
+rose smiling cheerfully, shook hands all
+around and made it plain that each was ready
+to pay, pay, pay. The door had not closed
+behind them before John Boland set in motion
+the machinery which was to set Martin Druce
+free.
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XXVI_OUT_ON_BAIL' id='XXVI_OUT_ON_BAIL'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_297' name='page_297'></a>297</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2>
+<h3>OUT ON BAIL</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>When Martin Druce heard the news
+that bail had been raised for his release
+and that all arrangements were being made
+for his flight and concealment, it was exactly
+half an hour before the bail bond was signed
+and the order sent to the prison that he should
+be set at liberty.
+</p>
+<p>Broken by his incarceration, terrified by his
+murderous experience of the last night at the
+cafe, red-eyed and restless, the dive-keeper
+was pacing up and down his cell. A pickpocket
+whom he knew and who, through his
+own political pull was serving a term as a
+trusty, brought the information to him
+scrawled on a bit of cigarette paper which,
+with a little warning whistle, he dropped
+through the bars of the steel cage.
+</p>
+<p>Druce picked up the note and read it furtively.
+He waited for the trusty to pass him
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_298' name='page_298'></a>298</span>
+again, then beckoning him, he whispered,
+&#8220;See if my gal isn&#8217;t outside somewhere.
+She just left here. Tell her to wait. She can
+get into the automobile which they will be
+sure to send for me.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>It was not affection, but cowardice, that led
+Druce to think of Elsie first. Since he had
+been locked up he had crumbled under his
+trouble. He was so much shaken in mind and
+body by the killing of Anson and by his arrest
+that he was actually afraid to go out of the
+jail alone.
+</p>
+<p>After what seemed an eternity of waiting
+he heard footsteps in the corridor. A guard
+appeared and unlocked the iron door, beckoned
+to Druce, and he passed out.
+</p>
+<p>In a little waiting-room an iron-faced jail
+attendant handed him his watch and knife and
+some money taken from him when he was
+locked up. A lawyer whom he knew signaled
+him to follow.
+</p>
+<p>Another steel door stood open and Druce
+found himself outside the prison, breathing the
+free air of night. An automobile stood there.
+Druce saw that Elsie was already within.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_299' name='page_299'></a>299</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;The driver has instructions,&#8221; said the
+lawyer. &#8220;Later you will hear further from
+me.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What to hell are they going to do for me?&#8221;
+growled Druce.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No time to argue,&#8221; said the lawyer.
+&#8220;Here!&#8221; He pressed something in his hand.
+&#8220;Your game is to get away while the getting
+is good.&#8221; He slammed the door as Druce got
+in. The car turned the corner and went north.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where are we going?&#8221; Elsie asked.
+</p>
+<p>Druce mumbled an unintelligible answer.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Where?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shut up your ranting at me!&#8221; He shook
+off her hand. &#8220;I guess you&#8217;ll get your three
+squares a day.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Nothing more was said for several moments.
+Elsie lay back with her eyes closed. By the
+light from occasional street lamps Druce was
+counting a roll of bills.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Here, kid, look at this.&#8221; He spoke with
+just a touch of softness and bravado. &#8220;That
+young guy slipped it to me. My backers got
+to give me a nice trip to foreign lands. There&#8217;ll
+be plenty of kale. I&#8217;m going to take you
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_300' name='page_300'></a>300</span>
+along, see.&#8221; He did not add that her too great
+knowledge of his methods made others desirous
+that she, too, should be far away when the
+trial of the dive&#8217;s employes came to pass.
+Elsie opened her eyes.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I should think you would show that you
+feel a little bit glad that I&#8217;m out,&#8221; he whined.
+&#8220;Think of those days in that jail.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Elsie would not have dared fail to express
+sympathy for him, but he was in need of a
+match for the cigarette he held. Hailing the
+chauffeur, he had the next instant forgotten
+his demand.
+</p>
+<p>They drove in silence until they reached the
+house that had been prepared for their hiding-place.
+&#8220;Furnished rooms&mdash;Light Housekeeping&#8221;
+was inscribed on a card, tacked conspicuously
+in the doorway.
+</p>
+<p>A woman near middle age, inclined to be
+fleshy, with large features that reflected the
+dim hall light, met them, her arms akimbo.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Everything&#8217;s all right for you folks. Upstairs
+front. There&#8217;s a gas stove in the closet
+if you all&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;We ain&#8217;t pikers&mdash;we&#8217;ll get our eats sent in.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_301' name='page_301'></a>301</span>
+Here, take this.&#8221; Druce put a slip of paper
+and a greenback into Elsie&#8217;s hand.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go to the drug-store there at the corner
+and get this prescription filled,&#8221; he ordered.
+&#8220;It&#8217;s morphine. I&#8217;ve got to sleep tonight.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Elsie obeyed passively. When she returned
+Druce was pacing the room wild with impatience.
+His greenbacks and a bottle of
+absinthe lay on the table.
+</p>
+<p>He lost no time in resorting to the morphine.
+&#8220;Absinthe is the stuff to put life in
+your body; but it&#8217;s the good old dope to make
+you forget all your troubles,&#8221; he soliloquized,
+Very shortly he was on the bed, sound asleep.
+</p>
+<p>Elsie paced softly back and forth in the
+room for a long time. Then she went out into
+the dark hallway. She opened the window
+and stood looking into the street. It was quiet
+there. The stars looked down on a deserted
+way.
+</p>
+<p>That big bright star over there! Was it not
+the one she and her sister used to choose when
+wishing from their bedroom window at Millville!
+How long ago that seemed; how wide
+and dreadful life&#8217;s abyss between!
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_302' name='page_302'></a>302</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;If I had known, if I had known!&#8221; Elsie
+shuddered and glanced towards the closed
+door. &#8220;I was bound to have my own way.
+My&mdash;own&mdash;way. That&#8217;s it. There was something
+in me&mdash;&#8221; She faced her actions, she
+probed into her thoughts from the hour she
+first met Martin Druce. She marshalled her
+scathing shames before the judgment bar of
+her womanhood. In the flaming fires of tortured
+conscience she stood and suffered.
+</p>
+<p>Then she began to wonder about the future.
+Where was she bound? Where would he be
+sent? What strange lands might she see?
+</p>
+<p>How could she go with him? How could
+she stay behind? The street&mdash;the dreadful
+streets of night!
+</p>
+<p>Elsie shuddered, remembering those nights
+in the Levee, the fear and horror, and at last
+the shameful, gnawing hunger that drove her
+to him again.
+</p>
+<p>Back in the room where the dive-keeper lay
+in stupor Elsie spread a quilt on the floor and
+went wearily to her broken rest.
+</p>
+<p>When she awoke Druce was trying nervously
+to roll a cigarette. The paper broke.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_303' name='page_303'></a>303</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Here, you, it&#8217;s morning. It&#8217;s time you
+woke up. Take this money. Get me some
+cigarettes. I can&#8217;t roll them.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He was a being frightening to see by this
+time. The morphine and the French poison
+had torn his nerves to fragments. His eyes
+glared like coals in his pasty white face.
+</p>
+<p>Elsie did not try to talk to him. She saw
+that he was beyond that. She took some
+money from the table and went out again to
+buy the cigarettes and food. When she returned
+Druce refused to eat. He took up the
+bottle of absinthe and drank from it, swallowing
+the burning liquid with animal-like gulps
+that made Elsie shudder.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll kill yourself,&#8221; said Elsie. &#8220;Take
+some of this milk.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mind your own damn business,&#8221; returned
+Druce, hoarsely. &#8220;You stick to milk. I&#8217;ll
+stick to absinthe.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Again he lay down and again he slept. The
+long day passed. Night came and with a wild
+wind and a beating rain.
+</p>
+<p>Druce woke in a half delirium.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;More absinthe, more absinthe,&#8221; he muttered.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_304' name='page_304'></a>304</span>
+The bottle on the table was empty.
+&#8220;Why didn&#8217;t you have another bottle here?
+What have you been doing, eh?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you think you better take any more?&#8221;
+asked Elsie.
+</p>
+<p>Druce stood glaring at her. His eyes
+flamed as he rushed across the room like a
+madman. Before she could get out of his way
+he struck her a brutal blow that felled her to
+the floor, and kicked her as she struggled. He
+reached for the empty bottle and brandished
+it over her.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Damn you, get out of here quick and get
+me that dope!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Elsie got to her feet.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll go,&#8221; she said, faintly.
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XXVII_HARVEY_SPENCER_TAKES_UP_THE_TRAIL' id='XXVII_HARVEY_SPENCER_TAKES_UP_THE_TRAIL'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_305' name='page_305'></a>305</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2>
+<h3>HARVEY SPENCER TAKES UP THE TRAIL</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Harvey had waited about the jail for
+days. He was certain that Elsie Welcome
+would return to Druce, and he was
+resolved to make a great effort to induce her
+to leave him.
+</p>
+<p>In his unsubtle makeup the measure of his
+devotion was as great as the measure of his
+unspoiled manhood. The girl he wished to
+make his wife had been taken from him. She
+had removed herself far from his kindness and
+care, but he could not cease to offer her the
+care she needed more poignantly than before.
+</p>
+<p>The personal interest of so conspicuous a
+person as Mary Randall, in Elsie&#8217;s case, had
+undoubtedly urged Harvey on&mdash;when otherwise
+he might have given up. Even so, his
+courage and persistency, and personal sacrifices,
+were wonderful to behold.
+</p>
+<p>On the night when Druce was at last
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_306' name='page_306'></a>306</span>
+removed from the jail Harvey was standing
+in an alley opposite the public entrance to the
+jail watching the automobile which stood
+awaiting the coming of someone from within.
+</p>
+<p>Finally he saw the slender figure of a
+woman emerge from a doorway and enter
+the automobile. He knew that figure. He
+ran across the street and around the car. He
+noted its number with one of those keen
+flashes of memory, conscious at the moment
+that he should remember that number as long
+as he drew breath.
+</p>
+<p>He flung open the door on the further side
+of the automobile.
+</p>
+<p>Elsie faced him. &#8220;What are you doing
+here?&#8221; she asked in an icy little voice.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;no&mdash;Won&#8217;t you come to your mother,
+Elsie? Won&#8217;t you come away from this man?
+Your mother and Patience love you so much
+and have been trying so hard to find you
+and&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t, Harvey&mdash;I&mdash;perhaps&mdash;Oh! Go
+away. Druce is coming. He will&mdash;hurt you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It doesn&#8217;t matter about me. It&#8217;s you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I must stand by my husband.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_307' name='page_307'></a>307</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Husband! He isn&#8217;t your husband. He
+fooled you with a marriage license. Anybody
+can get a license in Chicago, but Druce&#8217;s
+license was never returned. He likely got
+some fellow to pretend to perform the marriage.
+Elsie, it wasn&#8217;t legal, I can prove it.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>For an instant Elsie&#8217;s spirit flamed in her
+eyes and her burning cheeks paled. Then she
+saw Druce coming and she turned towards
+him wearily, a strange quivering and drooping
+of her eyelids alone showing that she had
+heard. In the presence of her master she grew
+meek as a little child.
+</p>
+<p>Harvey drifted back into the shadows of the
+jail, powerless to help her, and saw her driven
+away with the man who had ruined her earthly
+life.
+</p>
+<p>Fighting his grief and despair, he went to
+the nearest drug-store and telephoned Miss
+Randall of what he had seen.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Druce out on bail! A murderer out on
+bail in Chicago!&#8221; she exclaimed. &#8220;Oh, Harvey,
+if only you had thought to jump into a taxicab
+and follow them to see where they have
+been taken.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_308' name='page_308'></a>308</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m no detective. I am going back to Millville.
+Perhaps I can get back my old job in
+the grocery store,&#8221; he answered grimly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello! Miss Randall! Hello! I remember
+the number of the machine.&#8221; He gave it.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good! Wait a minute till I see whose that
+is. Hold the wire.&#8221; She consulted her list of
+the automobile numbers entered in Illinois and
+found that this one belonged to a professional
+bondsman named Comstock.
+</p>
+<p>She gave Harvey the man&#8217;s residence
+number.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Go out there first thing in the morning and
+see if you can find out from the chauffeur
+where the machine went tonight. Keep a stiff
+upper lip, Mr. Spencer, you have really done
+splendidly.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Harvey went early next day to the address
+given him, a residence of the type called stone-fronted,
+in a district no longer fashionable.
+There was a garage, but no automobile.
+Harvey made a careful survey of the premises
+without gaining ground. He saw another of
+Mary Randall&#8217;s aids come, linger about and go
+away; but remembering her advice about
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_309' name='page_309'></a>309</span>
+keeping a stiff upper lip, he stayed on. He
+was to be rewarded late in the afternoon.
+</p>
+<p>A car rumbled into the garage. Its colored
+driver immediately began washing it and
+Harvey sauntered back into the yard. The
+number on it was the one printed on his
+memory.
+</p>
+<p>From somewhere back in his tired brain
+came the impulse to say,
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m a repair man from Gavin&#8217;s garage.
+Mr. Comstock told me to come over and take
+a look at his car. Said he had it out in the
+rain last night and it wasn&#8217;t working right.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, sah; that car certainly has been drove
+last night. Some of the battery connections
+got wet.&#8221; The chauffeur was glib enough.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lights and ignition out of order?&#8221; Harvey
+pretended to examine the car, asking seemingly
+careless questions and gaining from the
+negro the information that the car had gone
+from the jail with Druce to an obscure street
+far out on the northwest side. The man could
+not give the number of the house, but said it
+was one of three in the middle of &#8220;a short
+little street.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_310' name='page_310'></a>310</span></p>
+<p>Harvey made the excuse that he must go
+back to the garage where he was employed to
+get his tools, and hurried away.
+</p>
+<p>It was growing dark and a wild, stormy rain-wind
+was blowing when he reached the remote
+neighborhood described for him by the bondsman&#8217;s
+talkative servant. He was gazing at
+the three forbidding dwellings standing near
+the center of the block, trying to make up his
+mind which to approach first, when he saw
+Elsie in her long rain-coat come out of the
+middle house, hesitate a moment, then hurry
+down the steps into the street.
+</p>
+<p>He slipped into the shadow of a house, his
+heart thumping.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Elsie!&#8221; he called softly in a voice scarcely
+above a whisper.
+</p>
+<p>She stopped, startled.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is it Harvey?&#8221; Elsie peered doubtingly
+into the darkness, then stepped trustingly
+towards him as he replied,
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, it&#8217;s sure Harvey.&#8221; He caught the
+sadness in her words and his voice shook.
+&#8220;Won&#8217;t you come away with me now? Your
+mother wants you!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_311' name='page_311'></a>311</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Your life is in danger with him. Why
+don&#8217;t you leave him?&#8221; he added earnestly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Leave him,&#8221; she repeated. &#8220;Oh, if I only
+could! My mother and Patience&mdash;how are
+they?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;They are well and safe, only they want
+you. They&#8217;re going back to Millville, to the
+same cottage. It&#8217;s going to be all fixed over.
+Patience is going to be married&mdash;Mr. Harry
+Boland.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Tears streamed from Elsie&#8217;s eyes. She
+leaned against the iron fence that skirted the
+sidewalk.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you see, Harvey, I just couldn&#8217;t go
+home? I couldn&#8217;t bear to make Patience&mdash;ashamed
+of me. Don&#8217;t tell her that, though,
+will you? Tell them that I have to stay with
+my&mdash;my&mdash;oh, don&#8217;t let mother know you saw
+me. Don&#8217;t let her know any different.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You poor little thing&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>She looked about her in alarm. &#8220;I mustn&#8217;t
+stay here. You mustn&#8217;t, either. It&#8217;s no use,
+Harvey. The life&#8217;s got me&mdash;I can&#8217;t turn back.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>The next moment she was running down
+the street as if hurrying from a pursuer.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_312' name='page_312'></a>312</span></p>
+<p>Harvey saw her enter the corner drug-store,
+waited a little while, then decided he too had
+business in the drug-store. He would telephone
+Miss Randall&mdash;but he must be careful.
+Elsie was receiving a package from the drug
+clerk, as he entered the &#8217;phone booth&mdash;and left
+while he was talking. Harvey was standing
+with his face to the wall, speaking in a whisper,
+lest his message would be overheard. He did
+not see Elsie depart.
+</p>
+<p>He got the reformer herself on the telephone.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have found them,&#8221; he said.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good!&#8221; Joy and relief were in her tones.
+&#8220;Watch them carefully, won&#8217;t you? We&#8217;ll
+have detectives there in a jiffy with a new
+warrant for Druce. This time for white
+slavery. He will not escape us again.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Harvey gave the number of the house where
+Druce and Elsie had been hidden, appointed a
+rendezvous with the detective and returned
+at once to watch the house. He decided that
+Elsie had hurried back while he was at the telephone.
+</p>
+<p>In less than an hour an automobile rushed
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_313' name='page_313'></a>313</span>
+up to the house. Two men got out and hurried
+into the place. One of them he recognized
+as the lawyer he had seen at the entrance
+of the jail. There were not his detectives.
+</p>
+<p>The storm had increased and the rain was
+driving in blinding torrents across the street.
+</p>
+<p>Harvey saw a group of people suddenly
+emerge from the house. The chauffeur
+jumped down and took part with the struggling
+little crowd. He could hear Druce
+swearing loudly, calling out Elsie&#8217;s name with
+words of abuse. The men pushed the drunken
+man into the car, and got in after him.
+</p>
+<p>Harvey looked about for some sort of a
+vehicle, but none was in sight and the auto
+was actually starting. He sprang on the rear,
+spring and, crouching, hung on desperately.
+They drove for a long time; to him it seemed
+hours as his hands grew numb and his muscles
+ached from clinging to his precarious hold.
+Fortunately the storm had subsided.
+</p>
+<p>The driver turned into a dark, cobble paved
+street. The auto swayed and jolted like a
+ship on the rocks. The road was full of pitch-holes
+and as the wheels slipped into them a
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_314' name='page_314'></a>314</span>
+blinding spray of muddy water was flung into
+Harvey&#8217;s face. The machine put on more
+speed and swung around a corner. Another
+hole! The car careened, almost turned over,
+and Harvey was thrown into the street.
+</p>
+<p>As he struggled to his feet the red rear light
+of the automobile was two blocks away. But
+he went on, gasping for breath, stumbling.
+Presently he found himself in the district near
+the river, close to the north side water front,
+which is deserted after night-fall.
+</p>
+<p>He had hurried on like a man in a dream.
+Now he came to the edge of the river and
+stood staring down into the water.
+</p>
+<p>Out in the stream he could see the shadowy
+outline of a boat. Looking more closely, he
+saw that he was scarcely two hundred feet
+from the craft. The darkness had multiplied
+the distance; it was now penetrated by a lantern
+light moving on the deck, evidently in the
+hand of someone who was standing aft on the
+boat.
+</p>
+<p>There was distinct, loud talking and swearing
+between men.
+</p>
+<p>Harvey thought that it was a fishing smack.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_315' name='page_315'></a>315</span>
+Its demonstrative passengers were bent upon
+waking up the night and almost woke him up
+to the purpose of his night&#8217;s errand when he
+heard a loud voice say:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cut that out, Druce. No more boozing,
+d&#8217;you hear?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;D-r-u-c-e.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Harvey was as near fainting as a healthy
+young man might be with the shock of this
+surprise after his tremendous exertions and
+his fall. He stood as if petrified.
+</p>
+<p>But his ears still caught the sound of swearing
+and he saw men moving quickly about on
+the deck, then the gray white of sails spreading
+like gaunt ghosts. The swish of water told
+him that the boat was moving, that his quarry
+was slipping into pitch-blackness ahead.
+</p>
+<p>That was the finish of his courage.
+</p>
+<p>Harvey felt his limbs trembling, felt something
+trickle down his face. He was beaten.
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XXVIII_THE_FORCES_THAT_CONQUER' id='XXVIII_THE_FORCES_THAT_CONQUER'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_317' name='page_317'></a>317</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2>
+<h3>THE FORCES THAT CONQUER</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>When the tenderloin learned that Martin
+Druce had been released on a bond
+for thirty thousand dollars, the tenderloin
+laughed.
+</p>
+<p>The laugh was low and cunning and there
+was more than the suggestion of a sneer in it.
+It rang from one end of the district to the
+other, convulsing dive-keepers who for days
+had been as funereal as undertakers. It
+sounded in dance halls and bagnios, in barrooms
+and gambling dens.
+</p>
+<p>It eddied up into Chicago&#8217;s higher air and
+found an echo in clubs frequented by distinguished
+financier-politicians.
+</p>
+<p>John Boland had won! The brain that had
+never failed had proved its resourcefulness
+once again in this hour of dire trouble. Druce
+was gone. He would never be heard of in
+Chicago again. It had cost thirty thousand
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_318' name='page_318'></a>318</span>
+dollars, but what was thirty thousand dollars?
+Mary Randall and her crusaders were
+crushed. Anson was dead. Druce was gone.
+</p>
+<p>What mattered it now how much evidence
+Mary Randall had gathered in against the
+Cafe Sinister! There would be a period of
+quiet. The tenderloin would carefully observe
+all the proprieties. Then the case of the State
+against Martin Druce would be called and
+Druce would not respond to that summons.
+And so Mary Randall&#8217;s sensation would die
+an unnatural death&mdash;death from smothering,
+death from lack of expression. Afterward the
+tenderloin would resume its old operations.
+No wonder the tenderloin laughed!
+</p>
+<p>John Boland felt none of this exultation
+when he returned to his office on the morning
+following Druce&#8217;s release. An indefinable
+oppression weighed him down. He had won,
+he knew&mdash;and yet the air about him seemed
+charged with prescience of evil. He tried to
+shake it off and could not. He was anxious,
+too, about Harry. Why, he asked himself,
+should he worry about an ungrateful son.
+John Boland did not know the answer, yet the
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_319' name='page_319'></a>319</span>
+answer was very plain. His son Harry was
+his own flesh and blood and no man can cut
+himself off from his own flesh and blood without
+feeling some sort of reaction.
+</p>
+<p>John Boland, the man of brain and iron
+was only human after all. He loved his son.
+</p>
+<p>He was in a state of gloomy meditation
+when he opened his desk and resumed his day&#8217;s
+work. The telephone bell jangled constantly.
+The councillors who had participated in the
+conference over Druce&#8217;s case which had resulted
+so happily were calling up to congratulate
+Boland on the success of his maneuver.
+Somehow these felicitations did not please him
+as his fellow advisers had expected.
+</p>
+<p>His mood was gloomy. He could not shake
+it off. Constantly the same question returned
+to his mind he had won, yes, but what difference
+did it make? Was he any happier? Was
+the world any better? Boland had never been
+worried by questions of this sort before. He
+could not answer them.
+</p>
+<p>He was still in this gray mood when the
+guardian of his door announced the arrival of
+Grogan. Michael Grogan was, perhaps, Boland&#8217;s
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_320' name='page_320'></a>320</span>
+most intimate friend. He had not
+taken Grogan into his confidence when he
+planned his coup to release Druce. He felt
+that Grogan would not be in sympathy with
+his campaign for destroying the work of the
+reformers. Still he was glad to see Grogan.
+After all he was a friend. And this morning
+John Boland, for the first time, perhaps, in
+his life, felt the need of a friend.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;John,&#8221; said Grogan taking a seat, &#8220;I see
+you&#8217;ve &#8216;sprung&#8217; Druce?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes? Mike you&#8217;re an inveterate reader of
+the newspapers.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re yelling about it this morning.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let them yell.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You did it?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well Mike, I&#8217;m a modest man. I had
+something to do with it.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a rotten business!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I said it was a rotten business.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The commercial interests of the city demanded
+it. Do you think I will stand idly by
+and see a bunch of half-baked reformers shake
+down the business institutions of Chicago?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_321' name='page_321'></a>321</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;John, they are right.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;O yes, I suppose if you take the mamby-pamby,
+hysterical, sentimental end of it, any
+campaign that hits at vice is right.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It was a great movement. Mary Randall
+is a fine girl. You&#8217;ll live to regret that you
+helped to thwart her.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Pshaw, what&#8217;s the matter with you, man?
+You&#8217;re blood seems to be turning to milk.
+The papers will howl for a few days and then
+they&#8217;ll forget it. We&#8217;ll invite them to. We&#8217;ll
+suggest that if they don&#8217;t forget it the interests
+we represent may feel called upon to cut
+down their advertising. They&#8217;ll forget it all
+right.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, John,&#8221; Grogan spoke deliberately.
+&#8220;You can&#8217;t kill off a great and righteous movement
+by choking a few newspapers. The
+newspapers are powerful but their power has
+its limits. That girl has built a fire under this
+town that will rage in spite of you or me, or
+any one else. We can&#8217;t stop it.&#8221; Grogan rose.
+&#8220;That&#8217;s all,&#8221; he said, &#8220;I just dropped in to let
+you know how I feel about it. I thought I
+might be able to persuade you to get out of
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_322' name='page_322'></a>322</span>
+this fight. I guess, John, you&#8217;re incorrigible.
+Well, no hard feelings.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Boland laughed. &#8220;Have a drink as you go
+out. You need something to cheer you up.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Grogan stopped. &#8220;Where&#8217;s Harry?&#8221; he
+asked suddenly.
+</p>
+<p>Boland flushed and his brow darkened.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; he answered. &#8220;He and I
+have had a misunderstanding. He insists on
+marrying this Welcome girl. I don&#8217;t know
+where he is and I don&#8217;t care.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Grogan looked surprised. &#8220;John,&#8221; he said,
+&#8220;I&#8217;d feel sorry for you if I didn&#8217;t know you are
+lying. You do care. You can&#8217;t conceal it.
+You care now, and worse you&#8217;ll be caring more
+and more as time goes on. John, there are
+some things even you can&#8217;t do.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, Mike, what are they?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You can&#8217;t beat Nature and you can&#8217;t beat
+God. Good day.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>In vain Boland scoffed at Grogan&#8217;s sentimentalism.
+Again and again the words rose
+in his mind:
+</p>
+<p>You can&#8217;t beat Nature and you can&#8217;t beat
+God.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_323' name='page_323'></a>323</span></p>
+<p>The telephone rang. At the other end of
+the wire was that senator who had been at his
+conference. He asked Boland in a frightened
+voice if he had seen the papers, and then rang
+off.
+</p>
+<p>Boland, alarmed, sent a boy in haste for the
+latest editions. The boy returned and spread
+them out on the desk before him.
+</p>
+<p>Again the telephone rang. This time it was
+the clergyman who had participated in the conference.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you know that Mary Randall is out in
+a statement that she knows full details of what
+she calls the plot that resulted in the liberation
+of Martin Druce?&#8221; he demanded. &#8220;She
+says she will give the whole thing to the newspapers
+later. They are calling it in the streets
+below my study window now. Can&#8217;t something
+be done to head off that statement?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What would you suggest? Why don&#8217;t you
+see some of the editors?&#8221; Boland returned.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, that&#8217;s impossible. My dear Boland,
+think of me. If my name should be published
+in this connection my reputation would be
+ruined.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_324' name='page_324'></a>324</span></p>
+<p>Boland laughed savagely into the telephone
+and hung up the receiver, only to lift it again
+and hear another appeal for help, this from
+the publisher. He also feared ruin.
+</p>
+<p>Another call. The politician whose power
+in a great political party was a by-word was
+barking at the other end of the wire. He
+accused Boland of destroying him.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve destroyed us,&#8221; he yelped. &#8220;We&#8217;re
+ruined. You&#8217;ve blundered.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Boland was beyond speech by this time.
+He seized his hat and rushed out into the street.
+Everywhere boys were shouting the extras.
+Several people who recognized him as he
+passed paused to look after him curiously. He
+walked directly to his club.
+</p>
+<p>A few men gathered there reading newspapers
+paused to look after him curiously,
+bowed coldly and at once resumed reading.
+Others seemed to avoid him. Boland felt that
+the newspapers&#8217; conspicuous comment on a certain
+financial magnate prominent in the electrical
+world in connection with the vice-scandal
+pointed at him too plainly for any one in Chicago
+to misunderstand.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_325' name='page_325'></a>325</span></p>
+<p>He called his car and drove to his lonely
+home.
+</p>
+<p>That night John Boland had a strange
+vision. He saw an eternity of pain and everlasting
+darkness. Through it the nightmare
+of his past life in strangely terrifying pictures
+passed before his mind.
+</p>
+<p>Scenes of his boyhood, the panorama of his
+young manhood, pictures of his battle for success
+against overwhelming forces in the great
+city. These pictures returned again and
+again, vivid in their relief. He saw again the
+death of his wife and the spirit of darkness
+that had then come to walk beside him, taunting
+him that now he was of necessity a cold,
+calculating, lonely, indomitable man, not
+knowing how to give to his only son fatherly
+tenderness.
+</p>
+<p>This phase passed. He seemed to enter into
+a larger world full of terrifying monsters, all
+of human form. One he recognized as Druce,
+another as Anson, a third as the senator whose
+seat he had helped to get. And with them
+came a host of smaller figures, some struggling
+for life, and being crushed down into
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_326' name='page_326'></a>326</span>
+oblivion under his inexorable progress, some
+fighting with one another lest they too be
+torn down and crushed before him.
+</p>
+<p>There were piteous girl faces and worn
+kindly faces of women and men and these had
+gone down before the others because they
+had not the power of resistance needed in this
+battle. It was a great whirling nightmare
+of continuous struggle.
+</p>
+<p>And always walking by his side and seeming
+to grow stronger and more terrible as he
+tore his path through every obstacle strode his
+guide, the spirit of darkness.
+</p>
+<p>At last they were alone, he and the spirit.
+And the spirit turned upon him and clutched
+him by the throat. He struggled in that grasp
+just as others had struggled in his own grasp,
+tortured and futile. And again those words
+from Grogan:
+</p>
+<p><i>&#8220;You can&#8217;t beat Nature and you can&#8217;t beat
+God!&#8221;</i>
+</p>
+<p>Sweat stood out on John Boland&#8217;s forehead.
+</p>
+<p>He awoke with a mighty effort and sat
+upright. Around him was the emptiness and
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_327' name='page_327'></a>327</span>
+loneliness of the great bed-chamber. He saw
+with eyes wide open and brain alert a picture
+that looked like a reality and not a vision.
+</p>
+<p>It was of a trembling man bent with age
+and loneliness.
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XXIX_THE_CALL_OF_ETERNITY' id='XXIX_THE_CALL_OF_ETERNITY'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_329' name='page_329'></a>329</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIX</h2>
+<h3>THE CALL OF ETERNITY</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Elsie walked on and on eastward towards
+the lake. For a week she had been living
+alone in a room she had found near the
+park on the night that she left Harvey Spencer,
+telephoning in the drug-store. She had
+resolved that instant to go. It was to be &#8220;Now
+or never&#8221;&mdash;and she hurried away in an opposite
+direction from the hiding place&mdash;and from
+Druce.
+</p>
+<p>The little money that he had put in her
+hands for drugs had somehow lasted her until
+now. She had been too ill to go out, her body
+racked with fever.
+</p>
+<p>She was conscious that she must tomorrow
+find some work to do, for the landlady had
+twice asked her for the next week&#8217;s rent. She
+looked in at the door of a laundry where a
+German woman was singing as she ironed
+children&#8217;s dresses by the light of a flaring gas
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_330' name='page_330'></a>330</span>
+jet. It looked pleasant and peaceful in there.
+Perhaps that motherly woman would let her
+work with her. She would see tomorrow.
+</p>
+<p>Elsie walked on towards the lake. She
+wanted to look at the water. She wanted to
+breathe the cool breath of great winds coming
+over the water to cool this fierce fire of shame
+and horror fevering her soul, flaming in her
+delicate cheeks.
+</p>
+<p>Elsie came to the lake front at a wide high
+lot between two comfortable mansions on
+Sheridan Road.
+</p>
+<p>Lights of homes shone through the night&#8217;s
+darkness. Beams as of sunshine danced across
+the water.
+</p>
+<p>A light from an upper chamber in the nearest
+home shone across her and streamed
+onward to the sands.
+</p>
+<p>Elsie stood clasping and unclasping her little
+slender hands. The waters,&mdash;they could
+wash away that blow, the marks of that blow,
+wash away those words threatening death
+from one who had killed something in her
+heart. She realized that she was not afraid,
+facing the life to come.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_331' name='page_331'></a>331</span></p>
+<p>She was afraid only to go on living in the
+same world with one who had taken her girlhood
+and her womanhood, afraid only of this
+frightful fever in her veins, of this poison that
+was consuming her.
+</p>
+<p>Out yonder were the cool deeps of death&mdash;of
+death? What then? Far across the waves
+she saw a light.
+</p>
+<p>It was as if her spirit went to meet the light,
+went in quest of the meaning of such a beacon
+light across black waters.
+</p>
+<p>The light seemed to grow bigger and bigger
+as she gazed. By flinging her frail body into
+the dreadful surges could one reach peace and
+safety?
+</p>
+<p>Faintly her spirit heard the answer of the
+pursuing hound of heaven, faintly she heard
+the call of eternity and of the Eternal Love.
+</p>
+<p>The great black billows called to her. Elsie
+wondered what all the poor girls the waves
+toss up along the shores say to their Maker.
+She seemed to feel with them as she stood
+there, how the waves seize the bodies of the
+lost,&mdash;how the undertow takes them. Elsie
+put her hands to her face.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_332' name='page_332'></a>332</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Why am I here alone in the night?&#8221; she
+heard herself asking. Her voice sounded
+strangely familiar, yet unfamiliar as if some
+one were speaking to her. Then she knew
+that the voice was her own soul in the silence.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mother will forgive me, mother wants me
+back, mother will help me get well&mdash;if there is
+any health in me. Mother knows that it
+wasn&#8217;t all my fault&mdash;&#8221; her thought defended
+her against that voice.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why am I here alone in the night?&#8221; the
+question was repeated.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I will go home. I will begin again. Men
+begin again. Oh!...&#8221; A sob came from
+her lips.... &#8220;No, no, no!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>She felt with every nerve of her quivering
+being that in the slow upward climb of sex
+towards true love and true parenthood
+woman&#8217;s battle is man&#8217;s,&mdash;felt that God and
+Nature are now demanding not less of men.
+</p>
+<p>The suffering girl could not put her certainty
+into words, but in her body and in her
+soul she knew&mdash;she knew.
+</p>
+<p>Suddenly from the opened window of the
+nearest home she heard above the wind the
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_333' name='page_333'></a>333</span>
+cry of a baby, the loud, sweet, prolonged,
+fiercely-demanding cry of a hungry little
+baby.
+</p>
+<p>A wistful smile twisted her lips as she
+listened.
+</p>
+<p>Suddenly as the baby&#8217;s cry was stopped she
+put her hands to her bosom and a strange
+lovely light shone on her face.
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XXX_AT_THE_WEDDING_FEAST' id='XXX_AT_THE_WEDDING_FEAST'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_335' name='page_335'></a>335</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXX</h2>
+<h3>AT THE WEDDING FEAST</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Brightly shone the sunshine on the
+fields and woods surrounding Millville
+and on the little house where Mrs. Welcome
+was busy putting the last touches to the order
+and sweetness of home.
+</p>
+<p>Patience and her husband were coming on
+the noon train.
+</p>
+<p>Later in the day a few of their friends had
+promised to come to the supper for which
+her mother had been making loaves of delicious
+cake.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It is strange, strange that my child should
+be the wife of John Boland&#8217;s son,&#8221; she mused.
+&#8220;I wonder what my poor man would say.
+Would he feel less bitter if he could know that
+Boland sent me all that money, with that letter
+&#8216;as justice to Tom Welcome&#8217;s widow?&#8217;
+Patience and Harry are so happy now it
+makes me feel like wanting to forget the past.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_336' name='page_336'></a>336</span>
+If only I could know where my baby girl is.
+But I just must go on trusting. Somehow
+I feel hopeful. Patience and Harry want me
+to be brave. Harry&#8217;s father&mdash;he must find
+it hard to be brave too. He must be lonesome,
+estranged from his son, no one to comfort him.
+Perhaps he sent me that money really as a sign
+to Harry that he wants to be friends again.
+I won&#8217;t say anything to Harry about it just
+yet, but maybe some of these days....&#8221;
+The direct train of her thought was interrupted
+by the sound of a bird singing on the
+bough of a tree close by the opened window.
+</p>
+<p>She stepped out into the side porch and
+looked about her with a glance of pleasure in
+the neatness and charm of the little place.
+House and fence had been painted and
+mended, put in tidy order. A new gate and a
+cement sidewalk in front running down to
+the corner of the street spoke for the industry
+of Harvey Spencer who had worked like a
+son for her in his spare hours.
+</p>
+<p>The song of the bird in the elm bough had
+dropped to a happy twittering. The fragrance
+of late garden blossoms filled the air.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_337' name='page_337'></a>337</span>
+At the end of the deep yard, beyond the vegetable
+garden and close to the back gate Harvey
+had built a pretty summer house and over it
+a madeira vine hung its abundant quick growing
+wreaths of green.
+</p>
+<p>Mrs. Welcome in her light summer dress,
+her gray hair moved a trifle by the soft warm
+breeze, walked slowly down the garden path
+and sat down for a few moments of rest in
+this quiet spot. A sudden sadness came upon
+her face as almost always these months since
+her home coming when she rested from her
+working.
+</p>
+<p>But she rose resolutely and banished the
+thought.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Today is my oldest daughter&#8217;s day. I must
+think of nobody but Patience and make her
+coming home with her husband as glad as can
+be.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>She spoke aloud, to make her resolution
+stronger and walked back towards the house,
+gathering nasturtiums and asparagus as she
+went, to decorate the fresh and pretty parlor,
+with its new white muslin curtains and wall
+paper and the piano which Harry Boland had
+sent.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_338' name='page_338'></a>338</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s perfectly lovely, mother,&#8221; Patience
+was saying to her in this room within the
+hour, Patience whom everybody in Millville
+loved, standing radiant and happy beside her
+equally radiant bridegroom. &#8220;How did you
+ever get those flowers to trail over that picture
+as if they just grew there?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a great success as a decorator, and
+we can&#8217;t begin to thank you enough,&#8221; said
+Harry Boland. &#8220;I think Patience and I are
+in great luck that we can make our home with
+you. It&#8217;s all settled that I&#8217;m to have that office
+opposite the court-house, going to buy and sell
+real estate and work up a regular business.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, and mother, Harry finds that a whole
+lot of these cottages the mill people live
+in are really his own, from his mother&#8217;s estate
+directly to him. He&#8217;s going to put them all
+in decent order.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you remember Michael Grogan? He
+is going to help us do things in Millville. He
+has promised to build us a club house and
+dance hall, a social center for the mill young
+people if you and Patience will help run it.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s fine. Young folks need their fun,&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_339' name='page_339'></a>339</span>
+responded Mrs. Welcome heartily. &#8220;Come
+along, Patey dear, and see the cakes mother
+has been baking for you and Harry.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Mary Randall and Michael Grogan,
+Harvey Spencer and his sister and brother-in-law
+were the five guests who assembled in the
+late afternoon to honor the home-coming of
+Mr. and Mrs. Harry Boland.
+</p>
+<p>Michael Grogan came first, arriving in a
+carriage of the hack type from the station. He
+brought a huge bouquet of roses for the bride
+and a case of grape-juice for the cheer of the
+festivity.
+</p>
+<p>At supper he proposed the health of the
+young pair.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;May they always live happy ever after,&#8221;
+said Grogan, standing up, glass in hand.
+&#8220;May they never have any troubles that they
+can&#8217;t nip in the bud. As their principles demand
+of &#8217;em to drink this stuff as the pure
+juice of the grape, may it be blessed to &#8217;em
+forever and to their descendants.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Every body laughed and drank. Harry
+Boland toasted him in return:
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Here&#8217;s the health of our very good friend,
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_340' name='page_340'></a>340</span>
+Mr. Michael Grogan. May all his mornings
+be golden and all his sunsets clear.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thanks for the sunrises in particular,&#8221;
+said Grogan. &#8220;Now ladies and gentlemen I
+wish to toast the good health of another young
+lady who is with us today, one who has made
+me a great deal of trouble and scared me blue
+with blue envelopes. May she soon find a
+bridegroom for herself, one of them brave
+lads who can talk right back to her as I never
+could when she tackled this old man!&#8221; He
+lifted his grape-juice with a great flourish.
+&#8220;Here&#8217;s to herself, Miss Mary Randall!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Miss Randall blushed and nodded her
+thanks.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Speech, speech,&#8221; demanded Grogan.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thank you, thank you but I just can&#8217;t, not
+here, not now,&#8221; she said and quiet fell upon
+them.
+</p>
+<p>The thoughts of all were with the young
+girl who had disappeared, for whom all had
+worked, suffered, prayed.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do want to say,&#8221; Miss Randall, broke the
+silence, &#8220;that you all must know how glad I
+am that Mr. and Mrs. Harry Boland are to
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_341' name='page_341'></a>341</span>
+have a useful and happy life together and that
+I....&#8221; She stopped suddenly, looking out
+the opened door that led towards the garden,
+her whole expression changing, her lips parting,
+her breath coming quickly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What did you see out there?&#8221; asked Harvey
+Spencer, with the sharp intentness which
+he had learned from his maturing city experience.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now constable, don&#8217;t get excited,&#8221; chaffed
+Grogan, to whose aid Harvey&#8217;s quick rise to
+prominence and office was in part due. &#8220;We
+don&#8217;t want to be catching any burglars this
+happy day.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is it?&#8221; asked Patience Boland, rising.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I don&#8217;t know, to be really certain.&#8221;
+Mary looked at Mrs. Welcome. &#8220;Somebody
+came in at the back gate and went into the
+summer-house.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Mrs. Welcome leaned heavily on the table.
+</p>
+<p>Harvey ran to the window. Grogan looked
+over his shoulder.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Miss Randall, please go out and see.&#8221;
+Patience&#8217;s arms were already about her
+mother. &#8220;Mumsey, mumsey, can it be?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_342' name='page_342'></a>342</span></p>
+<p>Mary went out into the porch and down the
+garden path.
+</p>
+<p>It was Elsie Welcome who came out of the
+summer-house and slowly along between the
+flower borders. She was shockingly emaciated.
+She stopped and put her suit case down on
+the ground; its weight seemed too great for
+her spent strength.
+</p>
+<p>Mary ran to her.
+</p>
+<p>Elsie looked at her with sorrowful dark
+eyes.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am afraid to go in,&#8221; she said.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I hear people in there talking and laughing.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;They are all friends of yours.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is my mother&mdash;will my mother...?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Child, your mother&#8217;s heart is breaking for
+the sight of you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Elsie ran forward to the doorway of the
+familiar room. A step forward. Mother and
+daughter stood in a tender embrace.
+</p>
+<p>The mother&#8217;s face was radiant with great
+warmth of love. Patience rushed to her sister
+and clasped her close.
+</p>
+<p>Michael Grogan had led a tiptoe retreat of
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_343' name='page_343'></a>343</span>
+the visitors leaving mother and daughters
+alone, but Patience called them back.
+</p>
+<p>Elsie, smiling wanly, slipped like a little
+wraith across and into a chair beside her
+mother, and felt that dear hand clasping hers.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s so good to be here with you,&#8221; she whispered,
+looking vaguely about at the others,
+then a dreadful fit of coughing seized her and
+she sank exhausted in her mother&#8217;s arms.
+</p>
+<p>Harvey helped carry her into the little room
+off the parlor.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You dear little thing, all you need is lots of
+fresh eggs and your ma&#8217;s nursing to set you
+up again,&#8221; he said to her.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Harvey, she is feeling very ill now,
+but we will all help her get well,&#8221; said Patience,
+as they went out of the room together,
+leaving Elsie to rest in her mother&#8217;s care.
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XXXI_WITH_THE_ROSES_OF_LOVE' id='XXXI_WITH_THE_ROSES_OF_LOVE'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_345' name='page_345'></a>345</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXXI</h2>
+<h3>WITH THE ROSES OF LOVE</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Mrs. Welcome came into the little
+bedroom very quietly one afternoon
+about a week later, in her hands a large glass
+bowl overflowing with roses.
+</p>
+<p>She put it down on the table beside the bed
+and stood looking wistfully at the small dark
+head on the pillow.
+</p>
+<p>Elsie felt her there, opened her eyes and
+smiled as she saw the flowers. A deeper color
+burned for a moment in her cheeks.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Poor Harvey,&#8221; she said. &#8220;Isn&#8217;t he a dear,
+mamma?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;He always thought the world and all of
+you,&#8221; Mrs. Welcome sighed.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I always liked him, but I never did love
+him, you know. I just let him come to see
+me because he wanted to, and all the girls had
+company.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You might have loved him dearie if&mdash;if&mdash;&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_346' name='page_346'></a>346</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;If I hadn&#8217;t gone away, you mean, but I
+did go away.&#8221; Elsie coughed violently.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;There, there, sweet, don&#8217;t.&#8221; Her mother
+helped her to sit up and held her in her arms.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Harvey comes every day to ask how you
+are,&#8221; said Mrs. Welcome when she was better.
+&#8220;He wants to see you when you feel
+able.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Elsie remained silent.
+</p>
+<p>Out in the parlor they could hear Patience
+moving about, putting things in order, singing
+as she worked one of the songs she and
+Elsie used to sing when they were little girls.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Young Mrs. Boland is some singer,&#8221; said
+Elsie with a flash of her old fun. &#8220;Isn&#8217;t it nice
+for our Patey to be so happy?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;She and I want you to be happy too, and
+you will when you get well, my precious. You
+will laugh and sing as you used to.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mamma, I see through you,&#8221; said Elsie.
+&#8220;I bet Harvey is here now. He brought these
+roses himself. He coaxed you to coax me to
+see him. All right. Shake up my pillows.
+Get Patey&#8217;s pink boudoir cap and put your
+pink shawl around me and bring him in.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_347' name='page_347'></a>347</span></p>
+<p>Her pallor was more marked by the bright
+cap and shawl and the flame in her cheeks
+seemed scarlet.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Harvey,&#8221; she greeted him almost in
+her old bright voice. &#8220;Thank you for the roses.
+They&#8217;re&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>A violent coughing made it impossible for
+Elsie to finish speaking.
+</p>
+<p>He came and stood beside her and took her
+hot little outstretched hand.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re so pretty and I&#8217;m so glad you let
+me come in,&#8221; he said gently.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Harvey, I&#8217;m the one that&#8217;s glad,&#8221; said
+Elsie, trying to speak brightly. She laid back
+on the pillow. The effort to talk exhausted
+her.
+</p>
+<p>Harvey knelt down beside the bed so that
+his face was almost on a level with hers.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t want you to get tired, dear,&#8221; he
+said. &#8220;I just want you to rest and get well.
+Rest now!&#8221; He put his hand tenderly on
+her hot forehead.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;How cool your hand feels,&#8221; she murmured.
+&#8220;Put it over my eyes. They burn so.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>He obeyed her and they remained quiet for
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_348' name='page_348'></a>348</span>
+many minutes; through their hearts went
+many thoughts.
+</p>
+<p>She moved slightly. He understood, removed
+his hand and waited.
+</p>
+<p>When Elsie opened her eyes she looked
+directly into his kind eyes filled with grief and
+love.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You mustn&#8217;t be so sorry for me, Harvey,&#8221;
+she whispered.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;You will be better soon, and then&mdash;remember,
+little dear, I still have the wedding
+ring.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Elsie sighed. &#8220;Poor old Harvey! There
+never was anybody so good as you are to me.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I love you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>She patted his cheek. &#8220;It&#8217;s so good of you
+to go on caring about me.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I couldn&#8217;t stop if I wanted to,&mdash;and I don&#8217;t
+want to.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>She put her thin arm about his neck. &#8220;Will
+you do something for me?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Anything on earth!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>A wan little funny gleam lighted her pretty
+dark eyes.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;This is on earth, all right. I&#8217;ll tell you
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_349' name='page_349'></a>349</span>
+about it next time you come....&#8221; Suddenly
+Elsie sat up and grasped him. &#8220;There
+will be a next time, won&#8217;t there, Harvey?&#8221; she
+asked him in a wild tone, a wave of terror seeming
+to go over her.
+</p>
+<p>He held her gently.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t be frightened, dear. Of course there
+is going to be a next time ... all the rest
+of our lives. You didn&#8217;t think even for a minute
+that I would go back on you, did you,
+Elsie?&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>She smiled and released herself, then smiled
+again. &#8220;No, no, I didn&#8217;t mean that. Take a
+chair, Harvey, and tell me about the weather.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Harvey took the chair and once more possessed
+himself of her hand.
+</p>
+<p>She smiled sweetly.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now let me ask you a favor. Let&#8217;s name
+the day, Elsie,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Promise to marry
+me,&mdash;as soon as you get well.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;When&mdash;I&mdash;get&mdash;well,&#8221; Elsie looked wonderingly
+at him. She saw his passionate earnestness,
+his need of hope. Hope! It was fast
+fainting in her heart. &#8220;Yes, Harvey,&mdash;when
+I get well.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_350' name='page_350'></a>350</span></p>
+<p>He bent over her and with deep tenderness
+kissed her.
+</p>
+<p>Violent coughing seized her. It was the
+worst, the most prolonged Elsie had yet had.
+One spasm followed another, bringing her
+mother with remedies.
+</p>
+<p>Harvey moved frantically about; he was
+the first to suggest the doctor and ran out to
+bring one. He did not realize, he could not
+know what had really happened.
+</p>
+<p>When he returned Elsie had fallen asleep
+and the physician advised them not to waken
+her, promising to call early in the morning.
+The faithful Harvey went with him. He had
+her answer, &#8220;when I get well,&#8221; she said.
+</p>
+<p>Elsie remained until nearly day-break in a
+very deep sleep. The fever left her during this
+long repose. Her sister, who was watching
+beside her, thought she was better because her
+forehead grew damp and cool.
+</p>
+<p>With the first early light of morning Elsie
+opened her eyes.
+</p>
+<p>Patience pushed back the pretty tendrils of
+her dark hair. &#8220;It&#8217;s sister watching with you,
+dear,&#8221; she said.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_351' name='page_351'></a>351</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Where&#8217;s mother?&#8221; murmured Elsie in a
+voice so weak that it frightened Patience.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mother! mother! Please come!&#8221; she called.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s coming,&#8221; answered Patience as Mrs.
+Welcome came hurrying to the bedside.
+</p>
+<p>She understood without a word, lifting
+Elsie in her arms, the frail little worn body
+against her heart. Tears streamed down her
+face; sobs shook her body.
+</p>
+<p>Patience hurried weeping to summon
+Harry.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t cry, Mother,&#8221; moaned Elsie. &#8220;I am
+so glad I am home with you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Elsie, yes.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I would have come long ago, but I didn&#8217;t
+dare&mdash;so many girls never dare go home.
+Some of their mothers don&#8217;t want them, but
+you&mdash;. Mother&mdash;&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes my darling, yes!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I was afraid, so afraid. I went&mdash;and&mdash;looked&mdash;at
+the&mdash;lake.&#8221; She seemed to her
+mother to wander a bit.
+</p>
+<p>Her breathing became difficult. No more
+words came. A few quick fluttering breaths&mdash;Elsie
+was gone.
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='XXXII_AT_MARY_RANDALL_S_SUMMER_HOME' id='XXXII_AT_MARY_RANDALL_S_SUMMER_HOME'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_353' name='page_353'></a>353</span>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXXII</h2>
+<h3>AT MARY RANDALL&#8217;S SUMMER HOME</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Lake Geneva season was at its close.
+Most of the lake dwellers had closed their
+houses and returned to town. For those who
+remained late autumn had her glories. Woods
+and groves were gay in foliage. Orchards
+bowed their heads beneath their loads of ripened
+fruit. In shorn fields the birds, preparing
+for southern migration, sang of a year
+crowned with plenty.
+</p>
+<p>Vines hung deep about the broad veranda of
+the villa where Mary Randall was resting from
+her labors in the company of her uncle and
+aunt. She sat alone in a corner of the veranda
+one sunny day, waiting for the arrival of the
+journalist Ambrose, one of her most efficient
+aids.
+</p>
+<p>Anna, her faithful maid came with an armful
+of flowers and began arranging them
+on the table.
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_354' name='page_354'></a>354</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You love those old-fashioned flowers even
+more than I do, I believe, Anna,&#8221; said Miss
+Randall.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do love them. They seem like the blossom
+of my vacation,&#8221; said Anna.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s a pretty way to put it. Your vacation
+is to be a good long one. You have certainly
+earned it. You&#8217;re as worn as I am, after
+our battle. I never should have got through
+it without you.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Thank you, Miss Mary. Here comes the
+flower of all your workers,&mdash;Mr. Ambrose,&#8221;
+said the girl, and withdrew.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good news,&#8221; said the journalist cheerfully,
+coming to greet his friend, and noting with a
+sudden swift pleasure that a faint blush came
+to her cheeks and a new light to her eyes as
+she welcomed him. &#8220;Good news! As I was
+coming away the newspapers were out with
+the extra. The city council held a special
+meeting during the afternoon. They have
+abolished the segregated district. The city has
+formally adopted the policy of suppressing
+instead of circumscribing vice.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;That is the beginning of the end,&#8221; said
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_355' name='page_355'></a>355</span>
+Miss Randall. &#8220;If our campaign has won that
+we have won all I hoped for.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yet many people believe that we failed.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Even if we had failed we should have
+made progress. Every movement of this kind
+leaves its mark on the public conscience. It
+makes work easier for other crusaders.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; responded Ambrose, &#8220;because it
+brings out the facts. Facts are lasting. They
+cannot die.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Progress comes through inculcation of
+these facts, by means of education. Schools
+and churches&mdash;and parents&mdash;must concentrate
+on the moral improvement of the rising generation,
+or we wrestle ineffectively.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;The kind of vice you have been specially
+fighting will be extinct within the next ten
+years,&#8221; said Ambrose. &#8220;I don&#8217;t mean that we
+shall have suppressed vice. That is a task for
+centuries. But our people in the United States
+will not stand for this trade in girls.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d like to preach to men who have daughters
+to protect to take their wives and go out
+and see some of the shady places of the city
+for themselves. It would make any mother
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_356' name='page_356'></a>356</span>
+far more careful in future about the companions
+of their daughters.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, to whisper about &#8216;wild oats&#8217; and to
+see a young man who wants to marry one&#8217;s
+daughter in a dive are two very different
+things.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;We are going to have vice,&#8221; said Miss
+Randall, &#8220;as long as economic conditions set
+the stage for it. A young girl housed in a
+poor tenement, ill-lighted, poorly heated, badly
+ventilated, fed and clothed insufficiently&mdash;see
+to it that she hears foul language, and witnesses
+drunkenness and quarrelling&mdash;then
+you have the condition that produces the delinquent
+city girl.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;We are attacking all those evils,&#8221; said Ambrose.
+&#8220;The public conscience is rising against
+them. I predict the time when it will be regarded
+as great a disgrace for a city to possess
+a &#8216;back of the yards,&#8217; a ghetto or a slum tenement
+district as it is now to have a district
+organized for the exploitation of women. It&#8217;s
+coming. You and I shall see it.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Mary Randall had risen, deeply moved
+while he spoke. She leaned against the trellis
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_357' name='page_357'></a>357</span>
+and gazed far across the silver-shot lake at the
+sun sinking, a great ball of crimson fire among
+the dark trees.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;God speed the day!&#8221; she said.
+</p>
+<p>Beyond the veranda in a darkened drawing-room
+Mary Randall&#8217;s aunt had been resting
+and had heard this conversation. She rose and
+went softly away and out to a pergola where
+she found her husband smoking a cigar.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Lucius,&#8221; she said. &#8220;That young newspaper
+man who has been out here to see Mary
+is here again. They are talking in the veranda,
+settling all the problems of Chicago!&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>Lucius Randall blew a cloud of smoke.
+&#8220;Well, my dear, that is the only way this old
+world gets ahead, for each generation to tackle
+its problems anew.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I believe that young man likes Mary.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;Many young men do.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;But&mdash;I really believe Mary likes him.
+She talks to him with a sweet note in her voice,
+even when they are discussing the most impossible
+subjects.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;I shouldn&#8217;t wonder,&#8221; said Lucius Randall
+with much serenity.
+</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='AFTERWARD' id='AFTERWARD'></a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_359' name='page_359'></a>359</span>
+<h3>AFTERWORD</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>In our modern crusade against that most
+ancient evil known as the white slave traffic
+we have made at least one serious advance.
+All over the world that conspiracy of silence
+which has fettered thought and prevented
+open action in the fight is ended.
+</p>
+<p>Nowadays, as Havelock Ellis, author of
+the famous &#8220;Psychology of Sex,&#8221; says in the
+<i>Metropolitan</i> discussion of this subject,
+&#8220;churches, societies, journalist, legislators,
+have all joined the ranks of the agitators. Not
+only has there been no voice on the opposite
+side, which was scarcely to be expected&mdash;for
+there has never been any anxiety to cry aloud
+in defense of &#8216;white slavery&#8217; from the housetops&mdash;but
+there has been a new and noteworthy
+conquest over indifference and over
+that sacred silence which was supposed to encompass
+all sexual topics with suitable darkness.
+The banishment of that silence in the
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_360' name='page_360'></a>360</span>
+cause of social hygiene is, indeed, not the least
+significant feature of this agitation. * * *
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;By insuring that our workers, and especially
+our women workers, are decently paid, so that
+they can live comfortably on their wages, we
+shall not, indeed, have abolished prostitution,
+which is more than an economic phenomenon,
+but we shall more effectually check the white
+slave trader than by the most Draconic legislation
+the most imaginative vice crusader ever
+devised. And when we insure that these same
+workers have ample time and opportunity for
+free and joyous recreation we shall have done
+more to kill the fascination of the white slave
+traffic than by endless police regulations for
+the moral supervision of the young.
+</p>
+<p>&#8220;No doubt the element of human nature in
+the manifestations we are concerned with will
+still be at work, an obscure instinct often
+acting differently in each sex, but tending to
+drive both into the same risks. Here we need
+even more fundamental social changes. It is
+sheer foolishness to suppose that when we
+raise our little dams in the path of a great
+stream of human impulse that stream will
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_361' name='page_361'></a>361</span>
+forthwith flow calmly back to its source. We
+must make our new channels concurrently with
+our dams. We can at least begin today a task
+of education which must slowly though surely
+undermine the white slave trader&#8217;s stronghold.
+Such an education needs to be not merely instruction
+in the facts of sex and wise guidance
+concerning all the dangers and risks of the
+sexual life; it must also involve a training of
+the will, a development of the sense of responsibility,
+such as can never be secured by shutting
+our young people up in a hothouse,
+sheltered from every fortifying breath of the
+outside world.&#8221;
+</p>
+<p>It was in Illinois that Abraham Lincoln&mdash;a
+Southerner, Kentucky born&mdash;threw down
+the gage in his famous Bloomington speech
+in the matter of buying and selling human beings
+as slaves. It is in Illinois&mdash;in spite of
+much disgrace which the State&#8217;s fair name
+has had forced upon it&mdash;that men and women
+have enlisted for life to fight in the battle
+against buying and selling white girls, to fight
+against that special dealing in &#8220;live stock&#8221;
+actually known to have gone on for years,
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_362' name='page_362'></a>362</span>
+which is Chicago&#8217;s special shame as a distributing
+center.
+</p>
+<p>There is eternal shouting and exhorting
+against the immorality and vice of the levee,
+but I wonder if it isn&#8217;t society&#8217;s hue and cry
+to divert attention from viciousness in what
+are called &#8220;the best circles,&#8221; a condition that is
+a hundred times more important.
+</p>
+<p>Will the churches be in some measure convinced
+that they must organize for a combined
+effort to save the children of today&mdash;that souls
+are more important than sectarianism, and
+that Sunday is not the only day in the week?
+</p>
+<p>If every unmarried woman with money and
+time at her disposal were to devote part of her
+leisure to the care of one child there would be
+far less misery in the slums and many a little
+sister would be saved.
+</p>
+<p>If there is to be any effective reform we
+must arouse society from its lethargic viewpoint
+too generally accepted that the devil is
+never so black as he is painted.
+</p>
+<p>As long as mothers do not know who the
+young men are with whom their daughters
+spend evenings away from home so long will
+<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_363' name='page_363'></a>363</span>
+there be the troop of Little Lost Sisters tripping,
+stumbling down the trail that leads hellward.
+</p>
+<p>Let us make the war against commercialized
+vice a bigger thing than a presidential campaign,
+bigger than any war, bigger than anything
+that was ever known in a woman&#8217;s movement
+before in the world!
+</p>
+<!-- generated by ppgen.rb version: 1.79 -->
+<!-- timestamp: Thu Jun 12 08:56:23 -0600 2008 -->
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Lost Sister, by Virginia Brooks
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Little Lost Sister
+
+Author: Virginia Brooks
+
+Release Date: June 12, 2008 [EBook #25772]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE LOST SISTER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+                           Little Lost Sister
+
+-------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+  "It isn't always the costume of women of fashion ... or the blazing
+  resplendent show-window that tempts Little Lost Sisters. It is more
+  often just the human need for love and shelter ... the lack of a
+  friendly handclasp that shall lighten tomorrow's labor ... the
+  sympathy and understanding that breeds hope"
+
+-------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+                           LITTLE LOST SISTER
+
+                                   By
+                            VIRGINIA BROOKS
+
+                               Author of
+                         "MY BATTLES WITH VICE"
+
+                                New York
+                          THE MACAULAY COMPANY
+
+-------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+                            COPYRIGHT, 1914,
+
+                                   By
+                  F. A. P. GAZZOLO AND R. E. RICKSEN,
+
+                          All Rights Reserved
+
+-------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+                                CONTENTS
+
+        CHAPTER                                             PAGE
+
+                 Prologue                                     13
+
+              I  At the Button Mill                           17
+
+             II  Seeing Millville                             27
+
+            III  Enter a Detective                            37
+
+             IV  Harvey Meets "A Dealer in Cattle"            49
+
+              V  A Serpent Whispers and a Woman Listens       57
+
+             VI  A Romance Dawns--and a Tragedy               67
+
+            VII  Harry Boland Hears from His Father           77
+
+           VIII  The Death of Tom Welcome                     85
+
+             IX  In Which Some of Chicago's Best People
+                 Essay a Task Too Big for Them                95
+
+              X  The Adventures of a Newspaper Story         115
+
+             XI  A Bomb for Mr. Grogan                       133
+
+            XII  Bad News from Millville                     145
+
+           XIII  The Reader Meets Another Old Acquaintance   155
+
+            XIV  In Which the Wolf is Bitten by the Lamb     165
+
+             XV  The Search Begins for the Lost Sister       173
+
+            XVI  John Boland Meets Mary Randall              185
+
+           XVII  The Cafe Sinister                           203
+
+          XVIII  Lost in the Levee                           219
+
+            XIX  Mary Randall Goes to Live in a Wolf's Den   229
+
+             XX  Druce Signs a Significant Document          241
+
+            XXI  Druce Proves a True Prophet                 253
+
+           XXII  "The Mills of the Gods"                     261
+
+          XXIII  After the Tragedy                           271
+
+           XXIV  "The Highway of the Upright"                277
+
+            XXV  The Interests Versus Mary Randall           289
+
+           XXVI  Out on Bail                                 297
+
+          XXVII  Harvey Spencer Takes up the Trail           305
+
+         XXVIII  The Forces That Conquer                     317
+
+           XXIX  The Call of Eternity                        329
+
+            XXX  At the Wedding Feast                        335
+
+           XXXI  With the Roses of Love                      345
+
+          XXXII  At Mary Randall's Summer Home               353
+
+                 Afterward                                   359
+
+
+-------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+
+
+
+                           LITTLE LOST SISTER
+
+                                PROLOGUE
+
+
+They came up suddenly over a bit of rising ground, the mill-owner and his
+friend the writer and student of modern industries, and stood in full
+view of the factory. The air was sweet with scent of apple-blossoms. A
+song sparrow trilled in the poplar tree.
+
+"What do you think of our factory?" asked the man of business and of
+success, turning his keen, aggressive face towards his companion.
+
+The other, the dreamer, waited for moments without speaking, carefully
+weighing the word, then he answered,
+
+"Horrible."
+
+"My dear fellow!" The owner's voice showed that he was really grieved.
+"Why horrible?"
+
+"Your mill is a crime against Nature. Look how it violates that
+landscape. Look how it stands there gaunt and tawdry against these fresh
+green meadows edged round with billowy white clouds that herald summer.
+And you are proud of it. Could you not have found some arid waste for
+this factory? Can't you see how Nature cries out against this outrage?
+Can't you see that she has dedicated this country to seed-time and
+harvest,--these verdant fields, deep woods and brooding streams?"
+
+"The Millville people wanted our factory. They paid us a subsidy to bring
+it here."
+
+"Blind, too!" The dreamer looked backward at the town. "They tell me that
+the founders there called their village Farmington. Have you ever
+reflected what a change you are working in the lives of these people by
+substituting industrialism for agriculture? Have you thought of the moral
+transformations such a substitution must work among them?"
+
+"We are not responsible for their morals," the mill-owner answered,
+impatiently. "We have spared nothing to make our factory up to date. The
+mill meets all the demands of modern hygiene and sanitation. We do that
+for them."
+
+His friend was silent for a time.
+
+"Your employes here are chiefly women, very young women," he said at
+last.
+
+"Yes, we have two hundred girls," replied the mill-owner.
+
+"What is your highest wage for a girl?"
+
+"Eight dollars a week."
+
+Again the younger man was silent. Then he took his friend's arm within
+his own.
+
+"These girls are the mothers of tomorrow. To an extent the destinies of
+our race depend upon them. Your factory places upon you tremendous
+responsibilities."
+
+"We are growing to realize our responsibilities more and more," said the
+man of business and of success gravely. "Perhaps we do not realize them
+keenly enough. It is the fault of the times."
+
+"Yes, it is the fault of the times. Life, honor, virtue itself trampled
+down in the rush for the dollar."
+
+"I believe that a change is coming, though slowly. I believe that the day
+will come when we owners of mills will regard it as a disgraceful thing
+for our corporations to declare a dividend while notoriously underpaying
+our employes."
+
+"Yes, and perhaps the day is coming, too, when the employer who maintains
+conditions in his mills that subtly undermine the virtue of his women
+workers will be regarded as a public enemy."
+
+"No doubt, but that time is a long way ahead!"
+
+"We must look to the future," said his friend. "We must work for the
+future, too!"
+
+
+
+
+                                CHAPTER I
+
+                           AT THE BUTTON MILL
+
+
+Elsie Welcome was the one girl in the big machine room of the Millville
+button factory who did not rise when the bell sounded for the short
+afternoon recess. She swung on her revolving stool away from her machine
+and looked eagerly, thirstingly towards the windows where the other girls
+were crowding for breath of the fresh June air, but she did not stir to
+follow them. A resolution stronger than her own keen need of the
+recreation moments was singling out this young girl from among her two
+hundred companions, laughing and talking together.
+
+"I will speak to Mr. Kemble now--now," she promised herself, watching for
+the foreman to enter the machine room, according to his daily custom at
+this hour. Elsie nerved herself to a task difficult to perform, even
+after her three years of work in the factory, even though she was one of
+the most skilful workers here.
+
+She drew up her charmingly modeled little figure tensely, and held her
+small head high, her pure, beautiful features aglow with delicate color,
+her slender, shapely hands clasping and unclasping each other.
+
+The foreman came into the room. Elsie rose from her place and went to
+meet him, pushing back the pretty tendrils of her hair.
+
+"Mr. Kemble," she said, "I should like to speak to you a moment."
+
+Hiram Kemble was a tall, thin young man, deeply conscious of his own
+importance and responsibilities. He had risen by assiduous devotion to
+the details of button making from office boy to his present exalted
+state. His mind had become a mere filing cabinet for information
+concerning the button business.
+
+He stood regarding the girl before him, feeling the attraction of her
+beauty and resenting it. He did not dislike her; he did not understand
+her, and it was his nature to distrust what he did not understand.
+
+"Well," he said, with professional brusqueness, "what is it?"
+
+"I wanted to ask you to--to--" Elsie hesitated, then went on with
+courage, "to raise my wages."
+
+He looked at her in amazement, displeased. "How much are you getting
+now?"
+
+"Only eight dollars a week."
+
+"Only!" Hiram Kemble was satirical. "That's as much as the others are
+getting."
+
+"I know it. But it's not enough. Our expenses are heavy. My mother has
+begun to--to--" Elsie choked. "My mother is compelled to take in washing.
+She's not strong enough for such heavy work."
+
+"Your sister has a good job."
+
+"She earns only nine dollars."
+
+"Your father--"
+
+Tears sprang to Elsie's eyes, but she would not let them fall. "He's not
+earning anything."
+
+"I know." Kemble spoke accusingly. "He is drinking."
+
+Elsie showed a flash of spirit: "That's not my fault!"
+
+"Just so. But you can't hold the Millville Button Company responsible for
+your father's misbehavior."
+
+"Is there any chance for me to get more pay?" There was a note of despair
+in her question.
+
+"Not the least chance in the world. You are getting our maximum wage for
+women. I couldn't raise your pay if I wanted to without being specially
+authorized to do so by our board of directors."
+
+"And I can never earn--never get any more here?"
+
+"No."
+
+The minute hand of the electric clock pushed forward. Again a bell
+sounded. Two hundred American girls who had had a few moments' respite
+came trooping wearily back to their places at the machines.
+
+At the clang of the bell Kemble walked up the room. Elsie went back to
+her place drooping; she wore a beaten air as if he had struck her
+visibly.
+
+The girls on either hand spoke to her as they slipped into their places,
+but she did not hear them. Hours of swift work followed. The machines
+whirred and the deft hands of the girls flew. These button workers had
+nearly all been recruited from the district around Millville. With rare
+exceptions they were descendants of the hardy Americans who had founded
+the town while it was still called Farmington. The founders had passed
+away. The outside world had pressed around the village until its people
+longed to play a more active role in the world. It had seemed a great day
+when the button factory came, and the town name was changed to Millville.
+
+Now these daughters of the strong elder race were factory workers. The
+world had been made better by an output of thousands of shiny new buttons
+when at last the six o'clock whistle blew on this bright June day.
+
+Elsie Welcome got up from her machine and picked up her hat listlessly.
+She walked to a window and looked out. Suddenly animation came into her
+face. A young man waved a handkerchief from an automobile which spun by
+on the gray turnpike below the mill. Elsie waved her handkerchief in
+return.
+
+Kemble, watching the girl from across the room, saw the episode. He
+hurried across to her, with the air of pouncing on a victim.
+
+"We'll have none of that here, Miss Welcome," he said. "If you have to
+flirt, don't flirt on the company's premises."
+
+She turned upon him indignantly. "I am not flirting! That gentleman is a
+friend of mine."
+
+Kemble sneered. "Oh, he is a friend, is he? Where does a factory girl
+like you meet men who ride in automobiles?"
+
+Elsie flushed scarlet; she bit her quivering lips.
+
+"Ashamed to tell where you met him, are you?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean I'm responsible to my employers for the character of the girls I
+employ here."
+
+Elsie looked her contempt of him. She laughed a little low scornful laugh
+which made Kemble thoroughly angry.
+
+"Look here, my girl," he said. "You don't know when you're well off. You
+are too independent." His tone of anger roused her temper, but she held
+herself in leash and answered with cold politeness:
+
+"Mr. Kemble, when I feel myself getting independent, the first thing I
+shall do will be to get away from the Millville button factory."
+
+Kemble was ready to retreat now. The interview was getting beyond his
+expectation. Elsie was one of the company's fastest workers. He could not
+afford to have her throw up her place. He did not want to lose her.
+
+"Oh, but you like the factory, Miss Welcome," he said in a suddenly
+pacific tone.
+
+"Like--the--factory! I hate it," returned the girl, all her pent-up
+wrongs finding expression. "I hate the mill and everything about it. Do
+you suppose any girl could like the prospect of being bottled up in this
+hole year after year for eight dollars a week? Why, some day, Mr. Kemble,
+I expect to pay eight dollars for a hat, for just one hat."
+
+"So that's it," said Kemble, "fine feathers, eh? I know, you're like a
+lot of other girls who have come and gone in this factory. You've heard
+of Chicago's bright lights and you want to singe your wings in them. Let
+me tell you something, my girl, girls in your position don't get eight
+dollar hats without paying for them and if they haven't got the money
+they give something else. They give--"
+
+"Stop," ordered the girl. "You shan't say that to me. I don't believe it.
+You can't convince me that there isn't something better in life for a
+girl like me than Millville and eight dollars a week."
+
+"I pity your ignorance," said Kemble, loftily.
+
+"It's not ignorance to want something better than this," replied Elsie.
+"Why should you taunt me with ignorance, anyway? What do you know about
+the world? You're just a foreman in a little country mill and because you
+are satisfied with a narrow little life like that you think everyone else
+ought to be."
+
+The truth in this goaded Kemble into violation of rule number twelve for
+button factory foremen which exhorts such employes to be polite to women
+workers.
+
+"Why the devil don't you go to Chicago and be done with it then?" he
+demanded. "You're one of these people that has to learn by experience."
+He sneered at her. "Perhaps you can get your friend in the auto to take
+you. Why don't you try it?"
+
+Tears rushed to the girl's eyes. She began fastening on her hat to
+conceal her emotion.
+
+"I'm going to Chicago," she muttered, "just as soon as I am able. Nothing
+there can be much worse than being compelled to work in Millville under
+you. Good gracious," she added maliciously, after giving him a thorough
+inspection, "it's no use to stand here arguing with you."
+
+With this taunt Miss Elsie gave her hat a final adjustment, then, leaving
+Mr. Hiram Kemble speechless with rage and injured dignity, she walked out
+of the factory door.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER II
+
+                            SEEING MILLVILLE
+
+
+The distance from the Millville button factory to the corner of Main and
+Pine streets in Millville itself is, if you take the short cut through
+Nutting's Grove, as all sensible Millvillians do, a five minutes' walk.
+If the reader, touring Millville in search of the beginnings of this
+story, will make that journey in his imagination he will find himself
+standing on the rough board walk in front of John Price's general store.
+
+From her eminence on the top of one of Mr. John Price's high stools
+Patience Welcome glanced up from the ledger over which she was toiling,
+put the blunt end of her pen into her mouth and looked out into the
+street drenched in sunshine. A half dozen farmers' horses, moored to the
+hitching rack in front of the store, threshed restlessly with their tails
+at enthusiastic banqueting flies, newborn into a world that seemed to be
+filled with juicy horses.
+
+The scene did not interest Patience. Her glance went on across the street
+where an overdressed young man, just alighted from an automobile, stood
+surveying his surroundings. His eyes met hers. He removed his hat with an
+elaborate bow. The girl, a little piqued and a little amused, reached
+over very quietly and drew down the window curtain. Then she resumed
+operations on the ledger with the sharp end of the pen.
+
+Patience Welcome, like her sister, was dark of hair and eyes. Her hair,
+too, had the quality of forming into tendrils about her cheeks which
+glowed with a happy, if not a robust, healthfulness. But there the
+resemblance ended. The two girls were widely different personalities.
+Elsie, the younger, was impetuous by nature, imaginative, and easily
+swept off her mental balance by her emotions. She was ambitious, too, and
+Millville did not please her. Patience, no less imaginative, perhaps,
+possessed a stronger hold upon herself. She admired her daring sister,
+but she was sensible of the dangers of such daring and did not imitate
+her. She possessed the great gift of contentedness. It colored all her
+thoughts, created pleasant places for her in what, to Elsie, seemed a
+desolate life; it made Millville not only a bearable but even a happy
+place to live in. Millville understood Patience and loved her; Elsie,
+being less understandable, was less popular.
+
+It had been a busy day in John Price's store and Patience was entering in
+her books items from a pile of bills on the desk before her. It was five
+minutes after her usual leaving time, but the girl accepted extra duty
+with a cheerfulness that was part of her nature.
+
+In the midst of her work there was a bustle at the back of the store.
+John Price, local merchant prince and owner of this establishment, had
+returned from the yard at the rear of the store where he had been
+superintending the storing of goods, arrived on the late afternoon train.
+He was a wiry little old man of sixty, abrupt, nervous, irritable and
+given to sharpness of speech which, he was profoundly convinced, hid from
+outside perception a heart given to unbusinesslike tenderness. He busied
+himself noisily about the shelves for a few minutes, then suddenly stuck
+his head through the door of the little office in which Patience was
+working.
+
+"What," he said, "you here? Get out. Go home."
+
+"I'll be through in a few minutes," rejoined Patience, without taking her
+eyes from her figures.
+
+"Tush," said Mr. Price. "What are you trying to do, give me a bad name
+with my trade? People will think I'm a slave driver. Get out."
+
+"In just a minute," smiled Patience.
+
+"Go home, I say," almost shouted Price. He took off his alpaca coat and
+hung it on a nail. Then he stepped up suddenly behind Patience, took the
+pen deliberately from her hand and pushed her off the stool.
+
+"Must I throw you out?" he demanded. "Must I? Must I, eh?"
+
+He pointed towards the door.
+
+"All right, Mr. Price," said Patience submissively, gathering up her
+bills and thrusting them into a drawer.
+
+"Hurry," said Price. "You'll be late for your supper."
+
+"No, I won't," returned Patience, putting on her jacket and hat. "This is
+wash day at our house. Supper is always late on wash day."
+
+"Wash day, eh? Then you ought to be home helping your mother."
+
+"Elsie will help mother," replied Patience quietly.
+
+"Are you sure about that?" demanded Mr. Price.
+
+"Of course, I'm sure, Mr. Price," said Patience, hurt.
+
+"Well," said Mr. Price, "I'm not so sure. But don't stand here arguing. I
+haven't any time to argue with a snip of a girl like you. Get out. Go
+home!"
+
+Patience, still a little hurt by her employer's expressed doubt about her
+sister, started for the front door. Looking out, she saw the overdressed
+young man with the automobile still standing across the street. He saw
+her, too, and waved his cigarette. Patience turned back into the store.
+
+"Girl," demanded Mr. Price, his patience now seemingly exhausted, "where
+in the devil are you going?"
+
+"Out the back way, if you please, Mr. Price."
+
+Mr. Price got up deliberately from the stool which he had occupied as
+soon as Patience had vacated it and looked out of the front door.
+
+"The young whelp," he said, apostrophizing the overdressed youth with the
+cigarette. Then to Patience: "Dodging him, eh? Now don't blush, girl. I
+don't blame him for looking at you. You're worth looking at. But you show
+mighty good sense in keeping away from him."
+
+"Why, Mr. Price, I--" Patience stammered.
+
+"O, that's all right, dodge him, keep him guessing. One of those freshies
+from the city, eh? Well, there's mighty little good in 'em. Give your ma
+my best regards. Tell her she's got a fine daughter. Good night."
+
+Patience left the store by the rear door and started briskly for her
+home. She had gone but a block when she heard a wagon rumbling behind her
+and a voice called out:
+
+"'Lo, there, Patience, late, ain't you?"
+
+It was Harvey Spencer, ambitious "all round" clerk, hostler, collector
+for Millville's leading grocer. He drove a roan colt which went rather
+skittishly. There was an older man in the wagon with him. Harvey drew up
+the colt beside Patience with a vociferous "Whoa."
+
+"Yes," replied Patience, "I'm a little late. Lots of business these days,
+Harvey?"
+
+"You bet," he retorted, "Millville is flourishing. We'll soon have a real
+city here. Oh, Miss Welcome, let me make you acquainted with my friend,
+Mr. Michael Grogan of Chicago."
+
+Patience accepted the introduction with flushed reserve.
+
+"I'm right glad to know you," stated Mr. Grogan, removing his hat
+gallantly and wiping a perspiring brow with his handkerchief. "But let me
+tell you I don't think much of your friend, Harvey Spencer. Sure, I've
+been riding with him for two hours and you're the first pleasant object
+he's shown me. And such a ride! It's a certainty that this young fellow
+knows every bump and thank-ye-ma'am in the village and he's taken me full
+speed over all of them. I feel like I'd been churned. But I'll forgive
+him all that now--now that he's shown me you."
+
+There was a sincerity in Mr. Grogan's raillery that swept away Patience's
+reserve. Besides, he was over fifty.
+
+"Sure," she said, slyly imitating Mr. Grogan's brogue, "you've been
+kissing the blarney stone, Mr. Grogan."
+
+"Will ye listen to that now?" said Grogan enthusiastically, as he started
+to clamber off the wagon.
+
+"Sit still, Mr. Grogan," said Harvey, laughing.
+
+"But didn't you hear her, man alive? Sure, she's Irish--"
+
+"No, I'm not," put in Patience, "but I've heard of the blarney stone."
+
+"Look at that, now," said Grogan, returning to his seat with an air of
+keen disappointment. "And I was just longin' to see someone from the Ould
+Sod. I thought--"
+
+"How do you like riding with Harvey?" inquired Patience, changing the
+subject.
+
+"Well," said Grogan plaintively, "if I were twenty years younger maybe it
+would be good exercise, but with my years, Miss, 'tis just plain
+exhausting."
+
+Here Harvey started the roan colt off again. "See you later," he called
+back to Patience, "I'm stopping at your house."
+
+"So that's Tom Welcome's daughter, is it?" said Grogan as they got out of
+hearing.
+
+"That's one of them," said Harvey, "but you ought to see the other."
+
+"The old man now," went on Grogan, "is a good deal of a lush."
+
+"The girls can't help what their father is," retorted Harvey, bridling.
+
+"I know, I know," went on Mr. Grogan. "Such things happen in the best of
+families."
+
+"No, and you can't blame Tom Welcome much, either," went on Harvey. "He
+was drove to drink. He invented an electrical machine that would have
+made a fortune for him and some one stole it from him. It wasn't the loss
+of the money that sent him to the devil, either. He'd spent a lifetime on
+his machine and just when he was getting it patented, some smart thief in
+Chicago takes it away from him. That's what I call tough luck."
+
+"They're hard up, you say?" pursued Grogan.
+
+Harvey, unconscious that he had said nothing of the sort, admitted that
+the Welcomes were in financial straits. "Their mother has to take in
+washing," he said, "and both the girls work. It's too bad, for they ought
+to be getting an education."
+
+The roan colt came to an abrupt stop. They were in front of a small
+cottage. Grogan surveyed the place for a moment and then turned to his
+jehu. "And what might you be stopping here for?" he inquired.
+
+Harvey paused with one foot on the step of the wagon and looked up at
+Grogan gravely.
+
+"This is Tom Welcome's cottage," he said.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER III
+
+                            ENTER A DETECTIVE
+
+
+While Harvey Spencer was climbing down from his wagon Mr. Michael Grogan,
+who was not exactly the guileless soul Millville took him to be,
+permitted himself rather a close inspection of the Welcome premises.
+There was nothing imposing about them. The cottage was old and obviously
+in need of repair. The fence which surrounded it had been repaired in
+places, apparently by someone who had small interest in the job. The
+little patch of ground in front, however, was decorated with a neatly
+kept vegetable garden bordered with flowers. The stone step at the
+cottage entrance was immaculate. Mr. Grogan was shrewd enough to indulge
+himself in the speculation that whatever Tom Welcome might be his wife
+was a careful housekeeper.
+
+Mrs. Welcome was standing in her open door and Grogan studied her with a
+curiosity not entirely disinterested. Her figure was frail and slightly
+bowed. Her hair, as it showed in the deepening dusk was almost white. Her
+features had delicacy like those of the daughter Grogan had just met. She
+was wiping her hands on a gingham apron. They were hands of a hard
+working woman.
+
+"Hello, Mrs. Welcome, nice day, ain't it?" called Harvey as he came
+through the gate.
+
+"Yes, it is nice, isn't it, Harvey?" replied Martha Welcome. "I hadn't
+noticed it before, I've been so busy with the washing."
+
+The woman's voice, Mr. Grogan noted, held a note of sadness.
+
+"Seems to me," said Harvey, dropping his voice and speaking with the
+assurance of an old family friend, "that if I had two girls like your
+Elsie and Patience, I'd see that they helped out with the washing."
+
+"How can they help me?" replied Mrs. Welcome. "Patience is up early every
+morning and off to Mr. Price's store and Elsie is at the mill all day."
+
+"That's so," said Harvey, "I didn't think, but surely they might--"
+
+"Oh, they help a lot," broke in Mrs. Welcome, hurriedly. "They do all
+their ironing at night. And that's all anyone could ask of them after
+they come home tired from their work."
+
+"Well, I'm glad to hear it. Your two girls always do look nice."
+
+"Thank you, Harvey."
+
+"But Mrs. Welcome--"
+
+"Yes, Harvey?"
+
+"Don't you think--" Harvey stopped and looked about hesitatingly,--"Ah,
+don't you think it would be just as well if Elsie didn't see quite as
+much of this Chicago fellow?"
+
+"Do you mean Mr. Druce?" inquired Mrs. Welcome.
+
+"I do. Of course, he's all right--" Harvey again hesitated and puckered
+his lips thoughtfully. "He wears fine clothing, patent leather shoes,
+sports a diamond ring, but it seems to me Elsie's different somehow since
+that Martin Druce began to hang around."
+
+Mrs. Welcome laughed softly. There was a glint of humor in her eyes. "I
+guess you're jealous, aren't you, Harvey?"
+
+"Well, say I am," agreed Harvey. "Never mind that. Is it a good thing for
+Elsie?"
+
+"Elsie's a good girl," replied Mrs. Welcome.
+
+"She sure is, Mrs. Welcome. That's why I want her to be Mrs. Harvey
+Spencer."
+
+Mrs. Welcome opened her eyes wide at this statement and looked kindly at
+the stout young man before her.
+
+"You mean it, Harvey?" she demanded.
+
+"I'm so much in earnest," he replied, fumbling in his pocket, "that I've
+got the ring right here."
+
+He produced a plain gold wedding ring nestling in a white velvet case.
+Mrs. Welcome uttered a little cry of gladness. She believed in Harvey,
+who, incidentally, was all he pretended to be.
+
+"O, I know I ain't much," went on Harvey, "just a clerk in a small town
+store, but I've got ambitions. Look at all the great men! Where did they
+begin? At the bottom."
+
+Harvey paused. Then he looked all about him carefully and, satisfied with
+this survey, leaned confidentially toward Mrs. Welcome and whispered:
+
+"Say, can you keep a secret, Mrs. Welcome?"
+
+"I guess so," replied Mrs. Welcome smiling. "Try me, Harvey."
+
+"All right, I'm going to be a detective," Harvey announced proudly.
+
+"You are, Harvey?" was the astonished reply.
+
+"Just watch me," Harvey went on. "I'm taking a correspondence school
+course. Here are some of my lessons." He took some closely typewritten
+sheets of paper from his pocket. "Ever notice how broad I am between the
+eyes?" he demanded.
+
+"I can't say that I have," said Mrs. Welcome.
+
+"Well, I am, and it's one of the signs, so they say, of the born
+detective. Listen here a moment."
+
+He unfolded the bulky pages and read grandly:
+
+"'Always be observant of even the smallest trifles. A speck of dust may
+be an important clew to a murder.'"
+
+"Harvey!" cried Mrs. Welcome.
+
+"Don't be frightened, Mrs. Welcome, just wanted to show you that I mean
+business." Harvey paused for a moment and regarded her steadily. Then he
+pointed his finger at her accusingly as he said: "I knew you were washing
+before you told me!"
+
+"You did, Harvey?"
+
+"Sure, because you had suds on your apron where you dried your hands." He
+drew a deep sigh and threw out his chest. "There," he said. "Oh, I guess
+I'm bad at these lessons, eh?"
+
+"You're a good boy, Harvey," replied Mrs. Welcome, indulgently.
+
+"Thank you." He bowed. "Oh, perhaps my future mother-in-law and I aren't
+going to get along fine," he announced to the world in general,
+exultingly.
+
+The roan colt interrupted this rhapsody by pawing impatiently at the
+ground. Harvey took his order book from his pocket and stuck his stub of
+lead pencil in his mouth.
+
+"Well," he inquired, "how about orders, Mrs. Welcome?"
+
+"We--we--need some flour," was the hesitating reply.
+
+"A barrel?" suggested Harvey, turning to a fresh page of his order book.
+
+"No--no--no--I--I guess ten pounds, and--I guess that's about all,
+Harvey."
+
+"Now you'll excuse me if I doubt your word, Mrs. Welcome," said Harvey,
+writing down fifty pounds of flour quickly. "Come now, tell me what you
+do really want."
+
+"O, what's the use. We need everything, we--" Mrs. Welcome broke down and
+began to weep softly as she turned toward the house.
+
+"Now hold on, Mrs. Welcome, don't break away from me like that!" Harvey
+followed her and laid his hand gently on her arm. "I hope Mr. Welcome
+isn't drinking again. Is he?"
+
+"I'm afraid so, Harvey." Mrs. Welcome's frail shoulders quivered as she
+attempted to restrain her sobs. "Why, Tom hasn't been home for two days
+and--and our rent is due--and--"
+
+Harvey Spencer interrupted with a prolonged whistle which seemed to be
+the best way he could think of expressing sympathy. A light dawned on
+him.
+
+"That's why young Harry Boland is here from Chicago, to collect the rent,
+eh?" he inquired.
+
+Mrs. Welcome nodded assent, "Yes," she said, "Mr. Boland has been very
+kind. He has waited two weeks and--and--we can't pay him."
+
+"Why not let me--" suggested Harvey, putting his hand into his pocket.
+Mrs. Welcome checked him with a quick movement. "No, Harvey, please. I
+don't want you to do that," she said. "I wouldn't feel right about it
+somehow."
+
+"Just as you say, Mrs. Welcome." Harvey was rather diffident and
+hesitated to press a loan on her. To change the subject he said: "Young
+Mr. Boland seems taken up with Patience."
+
+"I hadn't noticed it," said Mrs. Welcome, drying her eyes.
+
+"O, we detectives have to keep our eyes open," acclaimed Harvey with
+another burst of pride.
+
+But here Michael Grogan interrupted. "Young man," he called out from the
+roadway, "are you really taking orders or is this one of your visiting
+days?" He tied the colt and came into the yard.
+
+"Hello," said Harvey, "getting tired of waiting?"
+
+"Well, I felt myself growing to that hitching post," said Grogan, "so I
+tied that bunch of nerves you have out there and moved before I took
+root."
+
+Harvey laughed and turned to Mrs. Welcome. "This is Mr. Michael Grogan,
+Mrs. Welcome," he said.
+
+Mrs. Welcome backed away toward the porch, removing her apron. "Good
+afternoon, sir," she greeted him. "I hope you are well?"
+
+"Well," said Grogan, "I was before this young marauder cajoled me into
+leaving me arm chair on the hotel veranda to go bumping over these
+roads."
+
+Mrs. Welcome smiled and extended her hand. "I'm very glad to know you,
+Mr. Grogan. You mustn't mind Harvey's impetuous ways. He's all right
+here." She placed her hand on her heart.
+
+"I'll go bail he is that if you say so, Mrs. Welcome," replied Grogan
+gallantly, "anyhow I'll take him on your word."
+
+"Just ready to go, Mr. Grogan, when you called," put in Harvey. Then he
+caught Mrs. Welcome by the arm and bustled her into the house, saying:
+"And I'll see that you get all of those things, Mrs. Welcome, flour, corn
+meal, tomatoes, beans, lard--" and in spite of her protestations he
+closed the door on her with a parting: "Everything on the first delivery
+tomorrow morning sure." Then he added to Grogan, who stood smiling with a
+look of comprehension on his face, "All right. Ready to go."
+
+"It's about time," commented Grogan as they went toward the wagon. "Don't
+think I'm too inquisitive if I ask who are these Welcomes anyhow?"
+
+"People who are having a tough time," replied Harvey, unhitching his
+colt. "Tom Welcome used to be quite a man. He had that invention I was
+telling you about, an electric lamp. He was done out of it and went to
+the booze for consolation."
+
+"So," murmured Grogan, half to himself, "Two girls in the family, eh?"
+
+"Yes, that was one of them you met just before we came here."
+
+"The pretty one?"
+
+"Yes, and they're the best ever," added Harvey, antagonized by something
+he sensed in his companion's manner.
+
+Grogan turned to him smiling. "There," he said, "don't get hot about it.
+Nobody doubts that, meself least of all. Ain't I Irish? It's the first
+article of every Irishman's creed to believe that all women, old or
+young, pretty or otherwise, all of them are just--good."
+
+Harvey seized the older man's hand and shook it vigorously. Then looking
+up the road he said:
+
+"Here comes Elsie Welcome, I think. I want you to meet her."
+
+"Ah," retorted Grogan. He turned and looked at Elsie closely. She ran
+rapidly down the pathway toward the gate. She saw them, paused, walked
+more slowly and came up to them apparently in confusion.
+
+"Why, hello Harv! What are you doing here so late?" she asked. Without
+waiting for a reply she started toward the gate flinging back a short
+"Good night."
+
+The girl's whole manner indicated a guilty conscience. It was evident
+that she did not wish to talk to Harvey Spencer. She passed through the
+gate toward the door of her home.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER IV
+
+                    HARVEY MEETS "A DEALER IN CATTLE"
+
+
+Harvey threw the reins into Grogan's lap and strode recklessly after
+Elsie. His good-natured face was flushed with anger.
+
+"Say," he demanded, "what's the matter?"
+
+The girl, unwilling, halted. "Nothing," she replied, "what makes you ask
+that?"
+
+"Why," explained Harvey, hiding his anger and attempting to take her
+hand, "you're out of breath."
+
+"Been running," was the girl's laconic explanation.
+
+"You don't usually run home from the mill, Elsie," Harvey's detective
+instinct was showing itself.
+
+Elsie was extremely irritated by this unwished for interview.
+
+"Well, I--" she stammered, "I wanted to get here because it's Monday and
+mother's washing day and--" She paused, her irritation getting the better
+of her. "I don't see what right you have to question me, Harvey Spencer."
+
+Grogan had got down from the wagon and at this moment came through the
+gate.
+
+"Young man," he began, addressing Spencer. The girl interrupted him.
+
+"Who are you?" she demanded. "Do you come from the mill?"
+
+"I come from no mill," retorted Grogan, piqued by the girl's tone, "and
+if you'll excuse me I don't want to."
+
+"This is Mr. Michael Grogan of Chicago," put in Harvey placatingly. "I've
+been showing him the town."
+
+"And," added Grogan quickly, "I haven't seen much."
+
+"That's not at all strange," said Elsie, "because there's nothing to
+see."
+
+"And in Chicago, where I come from," said Grogan sagely, "there's
+altogether too much."
+
+Grogan saw by his two companions' faces that he was an intruder.
+
+"Young man," he said, "I don't think I'll wait for you. I've some letters
+to write at the hotel. I think I'll be strolling along."
+
+"Why," said Harvey, hospitable in the face of intrusion, "you're welcome
+to ride. Won't you wait?"
+
+"No, thanks," said Grogan, "that grocery wagon of yours wasn't built to
+accommodate a man of my size."
+
+Harvey and the girl watched Grogan disappear in the dusk. Then the young
+man turned to the girl.
+
+"Elsie--" he began tenderly.
+
+But the girl stopped him. "Now don't begin to question me," she ordered.
+"I won't answer."
+
+"You are trying to hide something from me," said Harvey, grasping the
+girl's unwilling hand. The girl drew away from him.
+
+"That's not true," she said. "I don't want you to bother me."
+
+"I never used to bother you," said Harvey, his face flushing.
+
+"That was before--" began Elsie impulsively. "I mean now," she went on,
+catching herself. "I mean that you do now because you have changed."
+
+"No," contradicted Harvey, "but you have."
+
+"What do you mean by that?" challenged the girl.
+
+Harvey stood silent for a moment and jerked out a laugh of embarrassment.
+"I don't know exactly what I mean," he said, "but you know we were
+engaged."
+
+Elsie flushed. "We were not," she said.
+
+"I mean," said Harvey miserably stumbling on, "we sort of were. We
+understood." He brought one hand from his pocket. It held the box
+containing the ring. "Why, Elsie," he said pleadingly, "I even bought the
+ring. Just a plain band of gold. I did so hope that some day, soon
+perhaps, you'd let me put it on your finger and take you to our home. It
+wouldn't be much, but I'd love you and care for you. Why I'd work night
+and day just to make things easy for you. I love you. It all begins and
+ends with that."
+
+Elsie stood for a moment as though this honest appeal had touched her.
+Then she turned sharply.
+
+"O, what's the use," she cried, "Look at this place. See how we live. And
+you--you want me to go on like this? No!"
+
+Harvey stared at her stupidly.
+
+"Don't stare at me like that," said the girl annoyed.
+
+"I am wondering what has changed you so," said Harvey apologetically.
+
+"Nothing, I tell you."
+
+"Yes, there is something, or somebody."
+
+"Now Harvey, please don't begin--" Elsie paused. Her glance left Harvey's
+face. A young man in a brown tweed suit and carrying a light walking
+stick in his gloved hand was coming toward the gate.
+
+"Hello," he said easily, addressing Elsie and ignoring Spencer, "anybody
+at home?"
+
+Elsie turned toward him with impulsive friendliness, then remembering her
+other suitor paused and tried to assume a manner of unconcern.
+
+"Of course, there's someone at home," she said, "can't you see there is?"
+
+"Can't be sure that such loveliness is real," said the newcomer
+gallantly.
+
+"You're talking Chicagoese," said the girl, not, however, displeased.
+
+"Simple fact, believe me," was the assured response.
+
+Elsie saw that Harvey was eyeing the stranger with hostility. "Do you
+know Mr. Spencer, Mr. Druce?"
+
+"Everybody in Millville knows Mr. Spencer," replied Martin Druce, putting
+out his hand. "He's a town institution."
+
+"Thank you," said Harvey, mollified by what he thought a sincere
+compliment and shaking hands.
+
+"Institution!" laughed Elsie.
+
+Harvey stopped and withdrew the hand. It dawned on him that there was a
+secret understanding between Druce and the girl.
+
+"Now hold on," he asked. "Just what do you mean by that word
+'institution?'"
+
+"Why you're one of the landmarks here," explained Druce, "the same as the
+bank or the opera house." He brushed the lapel of Harvey's coat with his
+gloved hand and straightened his collar. Then he soberly removed Harvey's
+straw hat, fingered it into grotesque lines and replaced it on his head.
+He stepped back to observe the effect, adding satirically: "I'll bet you
+won't stay long in this jay town."
+
+"You're dead right there," boasted Harvey. "Millville is all right and a
+rising place but--"
+
+"I knew it," said Druce gravely. "You'll be coming up to Chicago to show
+Marshall Field how to run his store."
+
+"Well, I may--" began Harvey proudly.
+
+"Oh!" Elsie's voice was pained. "Don't do that, Mr. Druce!" Then she
+turned to Spencer. "Why do you let him make a joke of you?"
+
+"Who? Me?" Harvey looked at her in astonishment. He turned to Druce
+savagely. "Say," he demanded, "are you trying to kid me?"
+
+"Not on your life," was the reply. "I knew better than to try to kid a
+wise young man like you. What I'm trying to say is that you're too big
+for this town. Say, what's your ambition?"
+
+"Oh, I've got one, Mr. Druce. I'm going to be a detective."
+
+"Well, there's lots of room for a real one in Chicago," said Druce,
+suppressing a contemptuous smile.
+
+"I may go there some day."
+
+"Come along," said Druce, "the more the merrier."
+
+"Say, Mr. Druce," asked Harvey, now completely taken in by the
+ingratiating stranger, "what's your business?"
+
+"Mine, why--" The man moved toward Elsie as he spoke, gazing at her
+steadily.
+
+"Yes, you've got one, haven't you?" persisted Harvey.
+
+Druce seemed confused for a moment. Then his face broke into a genial
+smile. Both Elsie and Spencer were watching him curiously.
+
+"Sure, I've got a business. It's a mighty profitable one, too. I'm a
+dealer in live stock."
+
+"Oh, cattle?" said Harvey.
+
+"You got me," was the casual response, "just cattle."
+
+
+
+
+                                CHAPTER V
+
+                 A SERPENT WHISPERS AND A WOMAN LISTENS
+
+
+The word cattle seemed to arouse the roan colt to his own existence. He
+whinnied ingratiatingly and tugged at his hitching strap. Whether or not
+his master had forgotten, he knew it was supper time. Harvey heard him.
+
+"Well," he said to Druce, backing away towards the gate. "I've got to be
+going. Drop into the store some time. I'll give you a cigar."
+
+"Thanks," laughed Druce. Then under his breath he added, "Like blazes I
+will." He turned back to Elsie. "Is that the Rube," he demanded, "who
+wants to marry you?"
+
+"Yes," defended Elsie hotly, "and he's all right, too. I don't think it
+was nice of you to make fun of him as you did."
+
+"Now, now," said Druce soothingly. "Don't be angry with me. I was just
+playing around." He paused and looked warily at the house. "Everything
+all right, eh?"
+
+"Yes, I guess so," replied Elsie, with an anxious look in the same
+direction. "Harvey frightened me when I first got home. For a moment I
+thought he knew that I had been out with you."
+
+"Well, what if he did? There's no harm in going for a ride with me, is
+there?"
+
+"No-o," Elsie shook her head doubtfully. "But I don't feel just right
+about it."
+
+"And that grocery fellow didn't know after all, eh?"
+
+"I think not. At least he said nothing."
+
+Druce shrugged his shoulders derisively.
+
+"I think not. At least he said nothing." he couldn't detect a hair in the
+butter. I'm not worried about him. How is it with your own folks? Your
+mother doesn't know?"
+
+[Transcriber's note: previous paragraph transcribed as printed, with
+apparent obfuscation by duplicated line.]
+
+"No," replied Elsie, uneasy again. "Anyway, mother wouldn't matter so
+much, but dad--" She covered her face with her hands.
+
+"Never mind," said Druce tenderly, drawing her toward him and caressing
+her. "We had some ride, didn't we?"
+
+"Grand," replied Elsie, brightened by the recollection.
+
+"I told you it would be all right if I hired the car and picked you up
+around the corner from the mill. Say--" The man lowered his tone. "Gee,
+you're prettier than ever today, Elsie!"
+
+Something in his manner caused the girl to recoil. The shrinking movement
+did not escape Druce.
+
+"What's the matter, girlie?" he inquired. "Do you know that in all the
+weeks I have been coming down here from Chicago to see you, you haven't
+even kissed me?"
+
+"Please," pleaded the girl, pushing him away. She scarcely understood her
+mood. She only knew she did not want Druce to touch her.
+
+"What's the matter?" repeated Druce, following close behind her.
+
+"I--I don't know," faltered the girl, "I feel wicked somehow."
+
+"Why?" He led her to a bench and sat down beside her. "Haven't I always
+treated you like a lady?"
+
+"Yes, Martin, you've been good to me--but--I feel wicked."
+
+Druce laughed. "Nonsense, girlie," he said, "you couldn't be wicked if
+you tried. Do you know what you ought to do?"
+
+"What?" she asked.
+
+"Turn your back on this town where nothing ever happens and come to
+little old Chicago, the live village by the lake."
+
+"Chicago! What could I do there?"
+
+"Make more money in a month than you can earn here in a year."
+
+"But how?"
+
+"You can sing," said Druce appraisingly. "You're there forty ways when it
+comes to looks. Why they'd pay you a hundred dollars a week to sing in
+the cabarets."
+
+"Cabarets?" The girl's interest was aroused. "What's a cabaret?"
+
+"A cabaret," said Druce, "is a restaurant where ladies and gentlemen
+dine. A fine great hall, polished floors, rugs, palms, a lot of little
+tables, colored lights, flowers, silver, cut glass, perfumes, a grand
+orchestra--get that in your mind--and then the orchestra strikes up and
+you come down the aisle, right through the crowd and sing to them."
+
+"Oh, I'd love to do that," said the girl.
+
+"Why not try it?"
+
+"I--I wouldn't know how to begin."
+
+"I'll show you how."
+
+"Tell me, tell me how, quick."
+
+"Dead easy," Druce explained smoothly. "I'm going back to Chicago on the
+evening train tonight. Now there's no use having trouble with your folks.
+They wouldn't understand. You tell them you are going over to one of the
+neighbors', anything you can think of. That train slows down at the
+junction, right across the field there--you can always hear it whistle.
+I'll be aboard the last car and I'll take you to Chicago with me. Then
+when we get there we--"
+
+He broke off abruptly for Elsie started up from the bench and moved
+slowly away.
+
+"What's the matter, girlie?" asked Druce.
+
+"I--I don't know," the girl answered. "There isn't anyone here but just
+us, is there?"
+
+"No," replied Druce, watching the girl closely, "why?"
+
+"Because," she half whispered, "it seemed to me just then that someone
+touched me on the arm and said, 'Don't go!'"
+
+Druce started. He looked carefully around. Then he laughed.
+
+"You're hearing things tonight, Elsie," he said. "There's no one here but
+just you and me." He took her by the hand and was drawing her down to the
+bench when suddenly the front door of the cottage opened and Mrs. Welcome
+appeared.
+
+"Elsie," she called. She stood framed in the lighted doorway, her eyes
+shaded with her hand. Like a shadow Druce faded from his seat beside the
+girl and dodged behind a tree out of sight, but in hearing.
+
+"Is that you, Elsie?" asked the mother. "I thought I heard voices. Was
+Harvey here?"
+
+"Yes," replied the girl in confusion, "he has just gone."
+
+"You didn't see anything of your father, did you?"
+
+Elsie shook her head. "You--you don't suppose dad's drinking again?" the
+girl asked anxiously.
+
+"I suppose so," replied the mother wearily. "He hasn't been here all
+day."
+
+"Oh, mother," the girl wailed. "What shall we do?" She sank down on the
+seat.
+
+Her mother took her in her arms. "Don't cry," she said. "Come in and help
+me get supper."
+
+"I'm waiting for Patience," replied the girl. "I'll be in the house in a
+moment. You go ahead with the work. When Patience comes we'll both help
+you."
+
+Mrs. Welcome walked back into the cottage. As the door closed behind her
+Druce reappeared. He had not missed a word of the conversation between
+Elsie and her mother; as he now approached he outlined in his mind an
+immediate plan of attack.
+
+"Elsie," he said softly. The girl started.
+
+"I thought you had gone," she said. "No, don't touch me. I'm in trouble.
+My father--" she covered her face with her hands.
+
+"Yes, I know," said Druce. "I heard it all. Why do you stay here? Why do
+you--"
+
+"It isn't that," retorted the girl, too proud to accept sympathy. "You
+made me lie to my mother. That is the first time I ever deceived my
+mother."
+
+"Don't cry," said Druce. He drew her to the bench. "Come," he went on,
+"be sensible. Dry those tears. Come with me to Chicago."
+
+"How do you know I could get a chance to sing in that place you told me
+of?" she demanded, open to argument.
+
+Druce pressed his advantage. "Why," he said, "I'm interested in one
+myself. I think I could arrange to place you."
+
+"Martin," said Elsie, "you said you were in the live stock business."
+
+Druce hesitated a moment, toying with his cane. "I am," he said slowly.
+"This cabaret--er--is a little speculation on the side. Come now, say
+you'll be at the train at eight o'clock."
+
+The girl considered long.
+
+"Think," said Druce, "with one hundred dollars a week you will be able to
+take your mother out of this hole. Why, you'll be independent! You owe it
+to your family not to let this opportunity escape you."
+
+"I'll go," said Elsie.
+
+"Good! Good for you, I mean," said Druce.
+
+"On one condition," the girl went on.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+Elsie got up from her seat embarrassed. "It all depends," she said.
+
+"On what?" demanded Druce.
+
+"On you, Martin."
+
+"Me?" Druce laughed uneasily.
+
+"Yes," said the girl walking close to him and looking him in the face.
+"There is only one way I can go to Chicago with you."
+
+"How's that, girlie?" was Druce's astonished question.
+
+Elsie held up her left hand timidly. "With a plain gold ring on that
+finger, Martin," she said. She was now blushing furiously. She knew that
+she had virtually proposed to Druce. He laughed and something in his
+laugh jarred her.
+
+"Oh, marriage," he said.
+
+"You know that Martin, don't you? I couldn't go to Chicago with you any
+other way."
+
+Druce took off his hat. "Elsie," he said, "you're as good as gold. I
+honor you for your scruples."
+
+He paused to think for a moment. "I'll tell you," he said. "You come
+along with me and I'll marry you as soon as we reach Chicago. Meanwhile
+I'll telegraph ahead and arrange to have you taken care of by my old
+aunt. You'll be as safe with her as if you were in your own home."
+
+"You promise to marry me?"
+
+"Sure I do, girlie." He broke off blusteringly. "What do you take me for?
+Do you think I'd lure you to Chicago and then leave you?"
+
+"Martin," said Elsie gravely, "a girl must protect herself."
+
+"You'll go, honey?" Druce persisted.
+
+"I can't tell," replied the girl desperately, anxious to promise and yet
+afraid.
+
+"You'll go," said Druce positively, "at eight o'clock--"
+
+A cool voice broke in on his sentence. Druce started like a man suddenly
+drenched with cold water.
+
+"What's that is going to happen at eight o'clock, Mr. Druce?"
+
+The speaker was Patience Welcome.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER VI
+
+                     A ROMANCE DAWNS--AND A TRAGEDY
+
+
+Patience Welcome shared all the prejudices of her employer, John Price,
+against "city chaps." Her observation of those who had presented
+themselves in Millville had not raised her estimate of them. As a class
+she found them overdressed and underbred. They came into her small town
+obsessed with the notion of their superiority. Patience had been at some
+pains in a quiet way to puncture the pretensions of as many as came
+within scope of her sarcasm. She was not, like many girls of Millville,
+so much overwhelmed by the glamour of Chicago that she believed every
+being from that metropolis must be of a superior breed. She had
+penetration enough to estimate them at their true value. In her
+frankness, she made no effort to conceal her sentiments toward them.
+
+But recently there had come into her acquaintance a product of Chicago
+whom she could not fit into Mr. Price's city chap category. This was
+Harry Boland.
+
+Young Boland, the son of Chicago's "electrical king," was himself
+president of his father's Lake City Electrical Company. He was good
+looking, quiet, competent and totally lacking in the bumptiousness that
+Patience found so offensive in other Chicago youths. Toward him Patience
+had been compelled to modify her usual attitude of open aversion to mere
+cold reserve. She did not quite comprehend him and until conviction of
+his merits came she was determined to occupy the safe ground of
+suspicion.
+
+Patience and Harry Boland had first met on a basis that could scarcely
+have been more formal. The young man, early in his business career, had
+been his father's collector. Part of his duties had consisted of
+collecting the rents of a large number of workmen's cottages which the
+elder Boland owned at Millville. The Welcomes occupied one of these
+cottages. As Tom Welcome not infrequently was unable to pay the rent when
+it was due, Boland had had numerous opportunities for seeing Patience,
+who was treasurer of the Welcome household.
+
+Her attitude toward him had at first amused, then annoyed and finally
+interested him. When he began to understand what was back of her coldness
+a respect, such as he had felt for no other girl, developed in him. The
+more she held him off the more eager he became for a better acquaintance.
+This desire was fed by her repulses. Long ago he had made up his mind
+that he loved her. Now, in spite of the social chasm that yawned between
+them, he was determined to win her. His intentions toward her were honor
+itself. He was determined to marry her.
+
+When Harvey Spencer drove off, after having introduced Patience to
+Grogan, the girl started toward her home. She had gone only a short
+distance when a quick step behind her appraised her that she was
+followed. A moment later Harry Boland appeared at her side, hat in hand.
+
+"How do you do, Miss Welcome?"
+
+"I'm very well, thank you," replied Patience, primly.
+
+"Beautiful day, isn't it?" demanded Harry inanely.
+
+"Yes," agreed Patience, "I love the spring and even Millville is
+beautiful now."
+
+"I think it the most beautiful place in the world," declared Harry
+enthusiastically.
+
+Patience looked at him in surprise, then colored and laughed. "Do you?"
+she said with the accent on the first word.
+
+"I hope," said Harry, "that you don't mind if I smoke."
+
+"Not at all."
+
+There was an awkward silence.
+
+"Patience," Harry used the girl's name for the first time with
+deliberation, "why don't you speak to me?"
+
+Patience did not resent the familiarity. "I am thinking," she replied.
+
+"You act as though you do not like me. What have I done?"
+
+"It's not that," replied Patience shortly.
+
+"Then you are trying to avoid me."
+
+"I am."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Don't you know?" She turned and looked at him squarely. She was
+determined to dispose of his attentions then and there.
+
+"I'm not good at riddles."
+
+"Think a moment, then. You are Harry Boland, only son of the richest and
+most powerful man in Chicago. I am Patience Welcome, daughter of a broken
+inventor, tenant in a cottage which you own, where I cannot pay the rent.
+Can there be anything in common between us?"
+
+Harry ignored the question. "You have forgotten one fact," he said. There
+was determination in his voice. "Or don't you know it?"
+
+"What is that?" asked Patience over her shoulder, for she had turned from
+him.
+
+"That Harry Boland is in love with Patience Welcome."
+
+"What an absurdity!"
+
+"You don't believe me?"
+
+"How can you talk like that to me?" said the girl, now agitated. "Look at
+me. You know we are in arrears for rent."
+
+"Don't worry about that."
+
+She turned on him defiantly and looked into his eyes. Then her glance
+fell under his more burning one. She flushed and turned away.
+
+"I suppose," she said, huskily with humiliation, "that you have paid the
+rent yourself." She was almost in tears.
+
+"Now don't take it like that," pleaded Harry. "No one but you and me will
+ever know. And if you will let me I will take you away from all this."
+
+Patience raised her head. She had recovered her composure.
+
+"All men come to that finally," she said coldly. "Even in my slight
+experience I have learned the phrase almost by heart. All men say that.
+They offer--"
+
+"Just a moment." Harry put out his hand emphatically. "Wait! All the men
+in your slight experience may have said it, but all have not meant it. I
+mean that if I take you away from all this I shall take you as Mrs. Harry
+Boland--as my wife."
+
+"Harry!" His name was wrenched from the girl's very heart by her
+surprise.
+
+"Do you believe that I love you now?" demanded Boland.
+
+"Yes. I didn't know, I didn't understand. I have wronged you ever since I
+have known you. Forgive me. But your father?"
+
+"Let me call your attention to the fact," said Harry, planting himself
+firmly before her, "that I am many years past the age of seven--and can
+choose a wife for myself."
+
+"But your father?" insisted Patience.
+
+"Oh, he may rage and fume," retorted Harry, "but I have a standing of my
+own. I am president of the Lake City Electric Company that controls dad's
+patent light."
+
+"My father was interested in electricity, too--before--"
+
+But Harry interrupted her. "Never mind our fathers," he said. "We are the
+chief characters in this romance, you know."
+
+They had reached the path leading to the Welcome cottage. Patience, eager
+to end the interview which had thrown her into a state of consternation,
+such as she had never experienced before, seized the present opportunity.
+
+"Harry," she said, "please go. We are expecting father home and--I'm
+afraid--it won't be pleasant."
+
+"You haven't answered me. I'm off to Chicago tomorrow."
+
+"Tomorrow!" Patience caught her breath quickly.
+
+"Yes, in my new car. I'm going to drive back. I've overstayed my time and
+there are business calls which I simply cannot ignore. I'll not insist on
+an answer tonight, but will you write me?"
+
+The girl put out her hand which Harry grasped. Her lips quivered and she
+breathed, "Yes."
+
+He lifted the hand to his lips, but the girl drew it from him, whispered
+"goodby" and darted away. He stood watching her until she disappeared.
+Patience hurrying toward the cottage was roused from her tumult of
+emotion by the sound of voices. Once she heard the words "eight o'clock,"
+without recognizing the speaker. When they were spoken again she knew the
+voice as that of Martin Druce. She disliked Druce. The thought of his
+being alone with Elsie chilled her.
+
+She came toward him swiftly but in silence. Her question: "What did you
+say was going to happen at eight o'clock, Mr. Druce?" was a complete
+surprise.
+
+"Eh--why--" stammered Druce, off his guard.
+
+"Why Patience, how late you are," interrupted Elsie to conceal Druce's
+confusion.
+
+"Just a little, dear," replied Patience, now confused herself. "I have
+been busy at the store." Then she turned to Druce again. "What is it
+about eight o'clock--is it something concerning Elsie?" she persisted.
+
+"O, I was just saying that I had to meet a man at the hotel at eight,"
+returned Druce, full of assurance again.
+
+"Ah!" said Patience, "well, you'll catch him all right--if you start
+now."
+
+Druce laughed. "Here's your hat--what's your hurry, eh?"
+
+"Patience, how can you?" demanded Elsie.
+
+"I didn't mean to be rude," retorted Patience serenely, "only I wouldn't
+have him miss that man."
+
+"Oh, I can take a hint." Druce started for the gate. As he reached it he
+turned back to the two girls and added:
+
+"I sure hope that man keeps his appointment to meet me at eight o'clock."
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER VII
+
+                   HARRY BOLAND HEARS FROM HIS FATHER
+
+
+Harry Boland strode away from his interview with Patience deeply occupied
+with tumultuous reflections, not seeing the beauties of Millville which,
+but a short time before, he had been enthusiastically celebrating. He
+was, in fact, a young man walking in a dream. Every word the girl had
+uttered, every inflection of her voice, the involuntary confession of
+affection won from her by his own no less sudden avowal of love,
+projected themselves against his excited mind with all the vividness of
+kinetoscope pictures. He was very happy with these reflections that come
+to the youth in love when a familiar voice suddenly recalled him to
+mundane things.
+
+"Hello, there Harry," said the voice.
+
+It was Grogan's.
+
+"Hello," replied Harry, roused but not displeased to meet his father's
+intimate political adviser in this part of the world, "what are you doing
+in this part of Illinois?"
+
+"I'm on my way home," replied Grogan, laconically.
+
+"Ah, yes, Dad wrote me. You went to Kansas City, didn't you?"
+
+"I did. Your father caught me on the wire at St. Louis."
+
+"What did the governor want?"
+
+"Nothing much. He told me you were here and suggested that I meet you. He
+thought it would be pleasant for us both to have company home."
+
+It dawned on Harry that perhaps his father had not been quite
+disinterested in this.
+
+"You're a good politician, Mike," he said shortly.
+
+"Is that a compliment now, or a slander against my character?" Grogan
+demanded, smiling.
+
+"Neither," replied Harry. "It's a fact."
+
+"And why, might I ask, have you recalled it at this particular moment?"
+
+"Because your conversation in this particular instance seemed to me to be
+that of a person who was concealing something. Politician's talk, Grogan,
+is specious, but notable for its reticence."
+
+"Well, Harry," returned Grogan, "your own line of talk is not
+particularly illuminating, either."
+
+"What do you mean, Mike?"
+
+"Well, here I am, an old friend of your father's, mixed up with him in
+half a dozen deals. I've known you ever since you sat in a high chair and
+spooned gruel from a bowl. I come on you in this out of the way corner
+and you say never a word of why you're here, or what you're doing. I
+think Clam is your middle name."
+
+"Why," replied Harry, "I came down to Millville to collect some rents."
+
+"Only rents?" queried Grogan pointedly.
+
+"What the devil do you mean?"
+
+"Youngsters of your age sometimes amuse themselves
+collecting--shirtwaists."
+
+"Stop that, Grogan," retorted Harry angrily.
+
+"Stop what, me boy?"
+
+"I don't like that sort of insinuation."
+
+"Ho," said Grogan, "angry, eh? Then it's as I thought. There's always
+fire in the heart when a young man flares up about a girl."
+
+"Look here, Grogan--"
+
+"Easy, boy," interrupted the older man. "I'm your friend and I don't want
+to see you get into trouble--with your father, I mean."
+
+"Did he send you to spy on me?" demanded Harry hotly.
+
+"Not at all," returned Grogan suavely, "only he's worried."
+
+"Worried, what the devil about?"
+
+Grogan did not reply.
+
+"I know I've overstayed my time," Harry went on, "but some of these
+people have been difficult. I couldn't throw them into the street when
+they promised to pay and--"
+
+"I know, I know," put in Grogan. "It's not about you. Your father's
+worried about business. One of these crazy reform waves has started in
+Chicago. A vice investigating committee is raising ructions."
+
+"What do you mean by a reform wave? What can a vice investigating
+committee have to do with my father?"
+
+"Well, you see," Grogan was picking his words carefully, "your father has
+large interests. An investigation of that sort unsettles business."
+
+"What started the reform wave?"
+
+"A girl."
+
+"A what?"
+
+"I said a girl," replied Grogan evenly.
+
+Harry laughed.
+
+"Yes," said Grogan, "they all laughed at her at first, just as you are
+doing now. But the joke is beginning to lose its point."
+
+"Who is she?"
+
+"Her name," returned Grogan, "is Mary Randall."
+
+"Mary Randall," repeated Harry. The words meant nothing to him. "Who is
+she?"
+
+"I don't know," replied Grogan. "I've never met the lady. That's the
+mystery of her and she's keeping it well. She belongs to the Randalls of
+Chicago--society folk--that's all I know. But she isn't one of these
+Michigan boulevard tea party reformers. They just talk. She goes out and
+delivers the goods. She's a fighter."
+
+Harry laughed again. "This is good," he said. "An unknown girl, a society
+bud, working single handed stirs up Chicago until she gets all of you
+alleged smart politicians worrying. Grogan, I'm going to write a comedy
+about that."
+
+"Are you now?" said Grogan. "Well, I don't approve of your idea. It's not
+funny. The other night they raided the Baker Club and when they came into
+court they had evidence enough to hang them all. This Randall girl had
+worked in the club for a month as a waitress and she KNEW."
+
+"Still, Mike, that shouldn't affect father."
+
+"Not directly--no," replied Grogan, again picking his words with care,
+"but it gives the whole city an unsteady feeling. People won't invest
+their money. If I were in your place, my boy, I'd go home."
+
+"I'm off tomorrow in my new car. Better come with me."
+
+"Make it tonight and I will," replied Grogan.
+
+"You're on," agreed Harry. "We'll go tonight." He surveyed the sky. "It's
+going to storm," he said; "but even if it does, unless there's a flood
+the roads will be good. We'll go tonight."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VIII
+
+                        THE DEATH OF TOM WELCOME
+
+
+Both Harry Boland and Grogan fell silent after having reached their
+agreement to return to Chicago immediately. To a degree both men
+regretted the decision.
+
+Grogan had accomplished the purpose for which the elder Boland had
+despatched him to Millville--that of disentangling Harry from his
+romance--but what he had seen of Patience Welcome had led him to dislike
+his task.
+
+Harry had no sooner promised to drive back to Chicago in the night than
+he was assailed with yearning to see the girl again. Each occupied
+himself with his own thoughts. Dusk descended on the village. They had
+reached the corner of the street that led to their hotel when they were
+arrested by a maudlin voice.
+
+"I'm all right, I tell you, Harve."
+
+Two men came out from beneath the shadow of the trees and could be seen
+dimly under the sickly gleam of a street light. One leaned heavily
+against the other.
+
+"Sure, you're all right," replied the drunken man's companion in a voice
+both recognized as that of Harvey Spencer. "I'm just going to see you as
+far as your house." He spoke in the voice people use in humoring drunken
+men and children.
+
+"I hain't drunk, Harve," insisted Harvey's companion.
+
+"Of course, you ain't," replied Harvey, "come on."
+
+"I'm just overcome with the heat. I--"
+
+The reeling man broke off suddenly. He saw Harry and Grogan.
+
+"Who the devil are you?" he demanded truculently.
+
+"My name is Harry Boland," replied the young man.
+
+"Oh, the son of John Boland, eh?" jeered the drunken man. "Son of John
+Boland, 'lectric light king. John Boland's son, eh?"
+
+"Yes," replied Harry sharply, "what of it?"
+
+"Nothing I can prove," retorted Welcome, grimly, "only--give my regards
+to your father. Just tell him Tom Welcome sends his regards. He'll know."
+He began to whimper softly. "Poor old Tom Welcome, who might have been
+riding in his carriage this day." He stopped whining abruptly and snarled
+at the young man: "If there was any justice on God's earth--"
+
+Welcome lurched forward. Harry grasped his wrist and peered into his
+bloated face.
+
+"What do you mean by that?" he demanded.
+
+Grogan interrupted a good deal agitated. "He doesn't mean anything," he
+said, "he's just drunk. Come, boy, let's get out of here."
+
+"I want to know--" persisted Harry, but he dropped Welcome's arm.
+
+"Don't be a fool," commanded Grogan, "can't you see the man's drunk? Come
+on."
+
+"But I tell you I want to know--"
+
+"Oh, you don't know anything!"
+
+Harry was about to retort angrily when Grogan seized his wrist with an
+iron grip and swung him around the corner. Half dragging the young man
+along with him he got him to the hotel. There Grogan succeeded in
+convincing him of the folly of engaging in a street argument with a
+dipsomaniac he did not know.
+
+Meanwhile Harvey and Welcome continued their slow and stumbling journey
+to the Welcome cottage. Welcome, after his interview with Harry Boland
+was in a savage mood. A debauch of two days had left him virtually a mad
+man. It required all of Harvey's diplomacy to get him into his house
+quietly.
+
+The lights were burning in the living room when they arrived. Harvey
+convoyed his swaying companion to the back of the house, opened the door
+quietly and pushed him in. Mrs. Welcome and the two girls were in the
+living room, but the wind was sighing without and they heard nothing. A
+storm had come up with the setting of the sun and occasional flashes of
+lightning lighted the darkened room where Welcome found himself while the
+thunder deadened the sound of his stumbling feet. He made his way through
+the kitchen to a bedroom and sank down exhausted on a bed.
+
+But Tom Welcome could not sleep. Every nerve in his body jangled. The
+interview with young Boland, for reasons which will be apparent to the
+reader later, had aroused in him a smouldering anger. He tossed
+restlessly on his couch.
+
+While he lay there he heard some one knocking at the front door. All of
+his perceptions had grown abnormally keen. He heard a boy's voice and
+recognized it as that of a neighbor's son.
+
+"It's me, Jimmie," said the boy. "Pa sent me over with Elsie's veil. She
+dropped it while she was out in the auto this afternoon."
+
+He heard the door close and then the accusing voice of his wife
+demanding:
+
+"Elsie, who have you been out with, automobiling?"
+
+"I was out this afternoon with Martin Druce," replied the girl defiantly.
+
+"Then," went on the mother, conscious that a crisis of some sort between
+her and her daughter was approaching, "you were talking to him this
+evening and not to Harvey Spencer? You told me a falsehood?"
+
+"What if I did?" Elsie's tone was low and stubborn.
+
+Mrs. Welcome began to sob.
+
+"Mother, mother," pleaded Patience, "Elsie didn't mean--"
+
+"I did mean it," flared back Elsie. "I did mean it! Why shouldn't I go
+autoing when I have the chance? Isn't life in Millville hard enough
+without--" She paused overcome by a wave of passion. "I'm tired of
+Millville," she exclaimed, "I'm tired of the factory. I'm tired of living
+here as we do in this miserable, tumble-down place we call home. I'm
+tired of working like a slave, while a drunken father--"
+
+The words had scarcely left the girl's lips when Tom Welcome, red-eyed,
+dishevelled, swaying, appeared in the doorway behind her. His face was
+lit with demoniac passion. He rushed at the girl and she screamed in
+terror. With a vicious lunge he struck her down and then, seizing her by
+the hair, dragged her into the bedroom where, amid her cries, he rained
+blow after blow upon her.
+
+Harvey Spencer, just passing through the gate, heard the first scream. He
+rushed back into the house as Welcome, finished for the moment with
+Elsie, had returned to the cottage living room and was approaching his
+wife menacingly. He seized the raging man by the collar and hurled him
+into a corner.
+
+"Stay there," he said, "or I'll brain you."
+
+Welcome stood for a moment glaring at the intruder. He attempted to
+speak, but foam flecked his lips and seemed to choke his voice. His eyes
+acquired a fixed and unearthly stare. He raised his fist as though to
+strike and then plunged headlong to the floor.
+
+Patience was the first to reach her father's side. A vivid flash of
+lightning followed by a terrific detonation of thunder rocked the
+cottage.
+
+"He's dying," screamed Patience.
+
+Mrs. Welcome, forgetting past injuries, sprang to her husband's side.
+
+"Tom," she wailed, "speak to me. Tom--Tom, I'm your wife--"
+
+The dying man tried to sit up. His mania had passed. He patted his wife's
+shoulder feebly and smiled. A great weakness had come into his face.
+"Forgive me," he said, "I didn't know--I didn't know what I was doing. It
+was the drink. I am going. Call Elsie!"
+
+Patience sprang toward the bedroom, but it was empty. The open doors
+through the kitchen showed how she had fled. As she searched frantically
+for her sister, the little clock on the mantel slowly struck the hour of
+eight.
+
+"She's gone," cried Patience. A premonition of the tragedy of Elsie's
+flight flashed upon her mind. "Oh," she cried, "my little lost sister! My
+little lost sister!"
+
+"Gone," cried Harvey. "Gone where?" He opened the door. The rain was
+falling pitilessly. "Not out into this storm. Someone must find her." He
+rushed out into the darkness.
+
+"Gone!" echoed Tom Welcome. His voice was hollow as a knell. The
+drink-racked body stiffened in a spasm and then dropped limply into his
+weeping wife's arms. "Gone!" he gasped.
+
+Tom Welcome was dead.
+
+Another flash of lightning and a roar of thunder. The two women strove to
+revive the corpse. At last the dreadful realization came to them that Tom
+Welcome would never speak again. The wind smote the cottage and the light
+in the single lamp in the room fluttered as though in mortal terror. The
+skies were shattered with a final climactic crash of thunder. The mother
+and daughter, alone in that chamber of death, clung to each other
+silently feeling themselves isolated from all mankind, with even the
+elements storming against them.
+
+While they waited, blanched and terror-stricken, for the last
+reverberations of the thunder, the whistle of the Fast Express, bound
+from Millville to the great city, rose wildly on the air, like the scream
+of an exultant demon, and died away in a series of weird and mocking
+echoes into the night.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER IX
+
+                 IN WHICH SOME OF CHICAGO'S BEST PEOPLE
+                      ESSAY A TASK TOO BIG FOR THEM
+
+
+Lucas Randall inserted his key into the door and let himself into his
+Michigan boulevard residence. The butler, busy in one of the reception
+rooms, looked up merely to nod a welcome as he entered. Mr. Randall
+turned to the mirror in the hallway. He saw the reflection of a man sixty
+years of age, gray but well preserved, intelligent but not forceful.
+
+As he turned from the glass he saw his wife descending the broad stairs.
+She was small and fragile. In her youth she had had a delicate pink and
+gold beauty. The years had worn away the pink and the gold but had left a
+spirituality that seemed even finer.
+
+"I'm glad you're home early, Luke dear," he heard her saying. Then
+noticing his air of abstraction she added: "Did you forget after all,
+Luke?"
+
+"Forget," he repeated blankly, "forget what, Lucy?"
+
+"Oh you man!" replied his wife as if man were a word of reproach. "The
+church committee is to be here this afternoon to formulate its report on
+vice conditions."
+
+"Oh, that!" Mr. Randall chuckled. "Yes, I had forgotten, but anyhow I
+made it, you see. How's Mary?"
+
+"Very well--" Mrs. Randall broke off suddenly. There was a troubled look
+in her eyes. Then she added lightly almost to herself: "What a queer
+child!"
+
+"Queer?"
+
+"Yes, Luke, queer," returned Mrs. Randall. Again that troubled look.
+"Luke, dear, I want to make a confession. I don't understand Mary. After
+your brother Henry died, when we insisted that Mary come and live with
+us, it seemed wicked to leave her in that great house alone--and we have
+no children. Now, there are times I am almost sorry we did it. It isn't
+that I want to criticise Mary"--noticing her husband's look of
+surprise--"I know she loves us both and yet--well, I have the feeling
+that we don't really know her. The intimacy I had longed for hasn't
+developed. She seems to live a part of her time in another world than
+ours." She broke off again, laughing nervously. "Do you know," she said,
+"I sometimes have the feeling that Mary lives a sort of double
+life--nothing evil, you know--but uncanny. She's not unkind nor lacking
+in affection for either of us, but often when we are together it seems to
+me that her mind is miles away."
+
+"Queer, eh?" said Mr. Randall, sympathetically. "Well, her father was
+like that."
+
+"It's not strange if she is like her father," charged Mrs. Randall. "He
+brought her up like a boy. After her mother died she was more like a chum
+to him than a daughter."
+
+Lucas Randall became meditative.
+
+"The church work, now," he asked, "does she seem interested?"
+
+"At first I think she was. I took her on some of my regular poor people
+calls. She seemed interested--too interested. Why, one day I lost her in
+a tenement on Kosciusko street. I had to come home without her, half wild
+with anxiety. She rushed in an hour later and when I questioned her as to
+where she had been she replied that she had found a poor Scotch family
+and had been so interested that she had forgotten me. 'Forgotten'--that's
+the very word she used. She said she had been 'seeking the causes of
+poverty.' I told her poverty came from people being poor, but that did
+not seem to satisfy her. She asked me why they were poor. I answered that
+often it was because they were shiftless. 'Not always,' she replied,
+'these Scotch people, aunt, dear, were strangely like you and me.' She
+spoke as if I were the one who did not understand."
+
+"And since then?"
+
+"Well, she has seemed to prefer going alone." Mrs. Randall paused on the
+verge of a new confession. "Luke, dear," she went on hurriedly, "Mary
+goes into sections of the city you have warned me not to visit!"
+
+"Not the Levee?"
+
+"Just that."
+
+"Good Lord," ejaculated Mr. Randall, "surely she doesn't go alone?"
+
+"Yes, except for her maid."
+
+"That girl she took from the Refuge?"
+
+"Anna."
+
+"Where is Mary now?"
+
+"In her room."
+
+"She'll come down to the committee meeting, I suppose?"
+
+"I asked her and she replied that of course she would come."
+
+"Has she been out today, Lucy?"
+
+"Nearly all day."
+
+"Calls, I suppose."
+
+"No, she's been attending the hearings of the vice commission."
+
+"In God's name, why?" Mr. Randall was really disturbed.
+
+"I asked her that very question. She replied that the proceedings
+interested her."
+
+"Heavens!" Mr. Randall paced the room. "'Interested' her! A girl with an
+income she can't possibly spend, a girl who might have anything, do
+anything, go anywhere, marry any man--"
+
+He broke off suddenly. "Lucy," he demanded, "is there any man Mary might
+care for? That good looking young curate, for instance?"
+
+Mrs. Randall shook her head emphatically. "No, Luke," she said. "If you
+were to ask me to name the two things Mary never gives a thought to I'd
+say men and matrimony. And that's another thing about her I cannot
+fathom."
+
+Further confidences were cut short by the entrance of the butler
+announcing the Rev. Thomas Brattle, a clergyman of sixty with an old
+fashioned flowing white beard, small white hands and shiny gold-bowed
+spectacles, and Marvin Lattimer, a business man with a turn for religious
+activities. Desultory conversation followed broken by the entrance of
+Mrs. Sumnet-Ives, a well preserved woman of forty and a social power, and
+Miss Emma Laforth, slender, dark, intelligent looking and gifted with a
+political acumen that had given her an unassailable position in women's
+club circles. They were escorted by Grove Evans, plump, wealthy, well
+born, mildly interested in reform because reform was the proper thing,
+and Wyat Carp, a lawyer with literary tendencies.
+
+Greetings and small talk; then Lucas Randall led the way to the library.
+There the Rev. Mr. Brattle, clearing his throat in an official manner,
+established himself before a priceless seventeenth century table of
+carved mahogany.
+
+"The meeting will come to order," he announced.
+
+A circle of chairs had been drawn up before the table. The committee
+members occupied them with a subdued rustle of garments. The Rev. Mr.
+Brattle watched the circle benignly, waiting for a moment of total
+silence. When he spoke his voice was smooth, finely modulated, pitched in
+the right key. His manner, in fact, was perfect. Indeed, in the spacious
+luxury of Lucas Randall's fine library no one could have appeared to
+better advantage.
+
+"Dear friends," he said, beaming about him, "we are gathered here, as you
+know, to formulate the report of our investigation into vice conditions.
+You have labored long and faithfully. Now the time has come to put forth
+the fruit of your labors in a form at once concrete and illuminating."
+
+He paused, then continued:
+
+"The problem we are approaching is world-old. Mankind has struggled with
+it intermittently since civilization began. Apparently we have made no
+progress. The twentieth century, in fact, with its terrific congestion in
+cities, its vast consumption of nervous energy and its universal
+commercialism, has complicated our problem. But with these new
+complications have come new means for warring against the evil.
+Intelligence on the subject is more general. Fine minds everywhere are
+addressing themselves to the riddle. Thus it seems that humanity is at
+last coming to grips with the traffic in women. Who knows but that out of
+this little gathering may not be evolved some theory which, injected into
+the circulation of modern life, shall immunize us against this social
+malady."
+
+There was subdued applause.
+
+"As my time has been somewhat occupied," the clergyman went on, "I have
+asked Mr. Carp to employ his well known literary gift in formulating our
+report. Let me add that I have read our brother's resume of our
+investigations and endorse it fully as to the facts found."
+
+Meanwhile Wyat Carp, with his best poet's air, had arisen and bowed to
+the little circle. He laid a terrifying number of manuscript sheets on
+the table and polished his glasses with his silk handkerchief. His was
+the subdued manner of a surgeon about to perform an operation and, it
+must be confessed, his audience felt some of the sensations of the
+patient.
+
+"My friends," began Wyat Carp, "in putting before you what I trust you
+may see fit to adopt as our united report I am naturally moved by a
+feeling of delicacy--"
+
+He paused, for directly behind the little circle of hearers the heavy
+curtains had been pushed aside, and a girl stood framed there against the
+dull red of the draperies. She was rather above medium height, with a
+figure rounded by exercise, a face oval and lighted by deep blue eyes
+underneath masses of burnished, coppery hair. Her personality seemed to
+fill the room. She breathed wholesomeness, vigor, sincerity and purpose.
+
+As Lucas Randall half started from his chair the girl put out her hand
+and checked him.
+
+"No, Uncle Luke," she said, "don't disturb yourself. I've been standing
+just outside the door for several minutes waiting for a moment to slip in
+quietly."
+
+She bowed to them all, and seated herself near the window overlooking the
+boulevard.
+
+"Just go on with the report, Mr. Carp," she said, "I assure you I am most
+eager to hear it."
+
+Wyat Carp coughed gently and picked up his manuscript.
+
+"Thank you, Miss Randall," he began gravely, "I--I--"
+
+"You were saying that you were moved by a feeling of delicacy," prompted
+the girl.
+
+"Thank you, Miss Randall." Mr. Carp bowed. "I--er--am experiencing a
+feeling of embarrassment because this is a meeting of both sexes and the
+subject is one which, only recently, has been discussed in mixed company.
+When one so young as yourself is present--"
+
+"Oh," replied the girl, a shade of amusement in her voice, "please don't
+let my youth interfere with our deliberations. I assure you that, young
+as I may appear to be, I am quite familiar with the matter we have under
+consideration."
+
+This remarkable declaration caused something of a real sensation. Mrs.
+Sumnet-Ives mentally put the speaker down as "a pert little chit." Grove
+Evans was amused, for he disliked Carp. Mrs. Randall catalogued it as
+another ebullition of Mary's queerness; even her uncle, despite an
+affection that accepted everything Mary did as right and proper, felt
+himself a little shocked. As for Miss Laforth, she favored Miss Randall
+with a long, inventorying inspection. Here, she reflected, might be a
+future political rival.
+
+Mr. Carp began to read slowly with here and there a pause to enable his
+audience to catch a subtle turn of phrase or the flowing rhythm of his
+periods. He read while the light grew fainter and the fire glowed more
+brightly, read until Lucas Randall leaned across the table and switched
+on the light in the great brass lamp.
+
+Mary Randall, deep in her easy chair beside the window and lulled by the
+soporific monotone of Mr. Carp's voice, saw the afternoon darken into
+dusk and the dusk deepen into night. Before her half-closed eyes the
+city, slowly but purposefully, began to throw off the habiliments of day
+and don the tinsel of evening. One by one, from far down the spacious
+avenue, the street lamps glowed into bulbs of color which the wet
+asphalt, like a winding black mirror, caught up and flung against the
+polished finishings of a swift and silent train of automobiles and the
+windows of the nearby mansions.
+
+And still Wyat Carp read on and on, skirting the outer circle of
+forbidden subjects, leading up to closed doors he made no attempt to
+open, expatiating voluminously on conditions that all the world knew,
+elucidating the obvious, ranging from one platitude to another--and
+avoiding the vital and concrete as though it were poisonous. And as Mr.
+Carp read Mary became oppressed with his total futility.
+
+Mrs. Ives risked a hasty glance at her jeweled wrist watch.
+
+"Doesn't the man know it's nearly time to dine?" she wondered.
+
+Grove Evans, with a dinner engagement at the club and a place bespoken in
+a quiet poker game afterward, squirmed in his chair and cursed Wyat Carp
+silently. Finally, with a last rhetorical flourish, Mr. Carp quite
+suddenly ended. He sat down amid a murmur of applause.
+
+"Wonderful," exclaimed Mrs. Ives. She was agreeably astonished that Mr.
+Carp should ever have finished.
+
+"Very full, concise and to the point," was Miss Laforth's verdict.
+
+"Great!" announced Grove Evans, really delighted, for he would be in time
+for dinner at the club after all.
+
+The Rev. Thomas Brattle gazed about the circle with a bland smile. "I am
+glad," he said, "to have my judgment indorsed by such excellent critics."
+
+Then, rapping gently on the table, he glanced about him. "A motion is in
+order before we adjourn, my friends," he stated, expectantly.
+
+"I move Mr. Carp's report be adopted as it stands," said Marvin Lattimer
+breathlessly. He had waited patiently all afternoon to speak just those
+words. His business judgment, as applied to social affairs, had taught
+him the wisdom of getting into the record. He was only a recent confidant
+of this inner circle of All Souls and he aspired to remain where he was.
+Besides, it would be something to tell the socially ambitious Mrs.
+Lattimer when he got home. There was a second from Miss Laforth.
+
+"You hear the motion," breathed the reverend chairman. "Those in favor
+will please say 'aye.'" As they all responded he beamed upon them. He
+turned with a deprecatory glance to Carp. "And as a matter of form, those
+contrary minded will please signify by saying 'no.'"
+
+He waited a moment. Quite clearly and distinctly Mary Randall spoke:
+
+"No!"
+
+The tiny monosyllable seemed to echo and reecho through the high-ceiled
+room. There was a most embarrassing silence.
+
+"Mary," faltered Mrs. Randall.
+
+Mary came over and pressed her hand against her aunt's shoulder. "Believe
+me," she said, "I don't mean to wound you. You don't understand." Then
+turning to the Rev. Mr. Brattle, she went on: "But I must insist that my
+vote in the negative be recorded in the minutes of this meeting."
+
+"May I inquire the cause of your--er--peculiar attitude?" asked the
+clergyman.
+
+"Do you think that fair, Dr. Brattle?"
+
+"Possibly not fair, but perhaps our curiosity is pardonable." There was
+suppressed sarcasm in his retort.
+
+"In your little speech of introduction, my dear doctor," said the girl,
+"you advanced the suggestion that this meeting might evolve some theory
+that would rid society of the social evil. The great trouble with this
+report is that it is all theory. I have no quarrel with the facts that
+Mr. Carp has given us, except that they are old--'world old,' as I think
+you said. Weeks have been spent on this investigation and yet there is
+not one word--not a single word--that answers the appeal going up in this
+city day after day from thousands of unfortunate women. We sit here,
+after weeks of investigation, and listen to a homily. The time is past in
+Chicago for homilies. The question is: What are we going to do about it?
+Helpless thousands are asking us that question and we answer it with a
+treatise full of 'world-old' truth and full of 'theory.' Mr. Carp speaks
+of the resorts on Dunkirk street being 'questionable'--"
+
+"They are questionable," defended Mr. Carp stoutly.
+
+"Questionable, Mr. Carp," replied Mary, "is a gentle word. These resorts
+are a shrieking infamy. They are markets in which young girls are sold
+like cattle."
+
+"How do you know that?" demanded Grove Evans, almost rudely. He felt his
+club appointment slipping away from him and the poker game owed him two
+hundred dollars.
+
+Mary looked from her aunt to her uncle.
+
+"I know," she replied, "because I have been there. I know because I
+myself bought four girls there!"
+
+The company gasped its surprise.
+
+"I told them I was 'in the business' in Seattle," the speaker continued.
+"I told them I wanted to buy. I asked for four girls--four young girls.
+They sold me four for one hundred dollars each."
+
+There was a silence for a long moment. It was broken by Marvin Lattimer.
+
+"Impossible!" he exclaimed.
+
+Mary looked at him sadly. "There is one fact more impossible than that,
+Mr. Lattimer," she said. "It is that men of the world like you--men who,
+above all others, should make it their business to know these
+things,--cry out 'Impossible!' when such a fact is exhibited before you
+in all its hideousness."
+
+"You should have had the man who sold those girls arrested," blurted
+Grove Evans.
+
+"I did," replied Mary quietly, "and _The Reporter_, in which you are a
+part owner, suppressed publication of the fact. I had the man arrested
+and Jim Edwards, the politician who holds the district in the hollow of
+his hand, prevented the case from going to trial. That man walks the
+streets of Chicago free and without bond."
+
+The girl turned to Dr. Brattle again.
+
+"Doctor," she said, "you are a clergyman. You are the shepherd of the
+flock. Are you, too, deaf to the appeal that goes up daily from the sinks
+of this city,--from hundreds of ruined girls? Do you, too, stand by while
+wolves rend the lambs? Do you deny the existence of the wolf?"
+
+"We can only strive to educate these women, to teach them the error of
+their way," pleaded the shepherd.
+
+"But, doctor, while you are educating one, the wolves are tearing down
+twenty. They 'educate,' too, and their facilities are better than yours."
+
+The girl stopped breathlessly and, stooping swiftly, kissed her aunt.
+There were tears in her eyes.
+
+"Don't worry about me," she said.
+
+Then suddenly she crossed the room and threw open the door. The maid,
+Anna, stood there with a satchel at her feet and Mary's cloak upon her
+arm. Mary picked up the satchel and turned toward the street door.
+
+"The time for theory alone is over," she said, addressing the company.
+"Someone has got to go into action against the wolves."
+
+The door swung behind her and she stepped out into the boulevard.
+
+
+
+
+                                CHAPTER X
+
+                   THE ADVENTURES OF A NEWSPAPER STORY
+
+
+Great cities thrive on sensations. The yellow journal with its blatant
+enthusiasms and its brazen effrontery finds a congenial habitat there,
+not because it is brazen, nor even because it is enthusiastic, but
+because it supplies a community need. The screaming headline is a mental
+cocktail. Bellowed forth by a trombone-lunged newsboy, it crashes against
+the eye, the ear and the brain simultaneously. It whips up tired nerves.
+It keys the crowd to the keen tension necessary for the doing of the
+city's business. And the crowd likes it. Fed hourly on mental stimulants,
+it becomes a slave to its newspapers.
+
+On the morning after Mary Randall's dramatic exit from her uncle's
+mansion Chicago awoke and clutched at the morning papers with all the
+eagerness of a drunkard reaching for his dram. A hint of a powerful new
+thrill lay in the half disclosed first pages. Black headings and
+"freaked" makeup meant but one thing--a big story.
+
+And Chicago was not disappointed. Occupying the place of honor on the
+first pages of all of the morning sheets was the announcement of a new
+assault upon the Vice Trust. To the crowd the name Mary Randall meant
+nothing. It knew little of her and cared less. But the idea of a young
+girl, beautiful, socially prominent, immensely wealthy in her own right,
+declaring war single-handed on a monster so mightily armored and
+intrenched and so brutally strong as the Vice Trust appealed instantly to
+the crowd's imagination. In the crowd's thought, at least, the girl
+became a heroine. And though the man in the street openly wearing an air
+of cheap cynicism spoke of her as "another crazy reformer" or as a
+"notoriety-hunting crank," secretly he responded to the enthusiasm of the
+headline writer who announced her as a "modern Joan of Arc."
+
+Mary had given out the story herself. A simple letter from her to the
+city editors announcing that she had left her home and all the luxuries
+that such a home implied and, accompanied only by a maid, had set forth
+on a war of extermination against the "vice ring" had been sufficient to
+set every local room in the city in a frenzy. Re-write men and head
+writers had done the rest. Every newspaper recorded the launching of her
+adventure with a luxuriance of illustration and a variety of detail that
+left nothing more to be said on the subject. Mary had counted rather
+shrewdly on this. She possessed, among her other natural gifts, a keen
+judgment of news values. She knew, too, the immense power of the press.
+By enlisting the agencies of publicity behind her she had multiplied her
+forces a thousand-fold. At the end of her letter Mary had written a
+modest appeal to the public. Every newspaper printed it under display
+type. It read as follows:
+
+                   "TO THE MEN AND WOMEN OF CHICAGO.
+
+"Our city, which should be the heart of American honor, is in the grip of
+a hideous System. So quietly and surely has this monster worked that our
+civic blood is poisoned. It feeds upon youth, innocence and purity--all
+that we as decent citizens love best. I call upon you all to stand by me
+now in my fight to kill the White Slave Traffic.
+
+                                                         "Mary Randall."
+
+Grove Evans read that appeal through and smiled at its naivete. Then he
+looked across his office to his partner, William Brierly, a younger man
+with pompadour hair and an habitual air of immense self-satisfaction.
+Brierly was reading the same story in another newspaper. He, too, looked
+up and smiled.
+
+"You know this girl, don't you, Grove?" Brierly asked. "By George, she
+must be interesting. A new kind of female maniac, eh?"
+
+"You've met her," responded Evans. "She was at the Country Club during
+trophy match last fall. Carries herself like a queen. I remember your
+raving about her."
+
+"Ah," Brierly's derisive smile faded. "That girl, eh? Say, I saw her make
+the ninth hole in three. That girl! Say, look here, Grove," he struck the
+open paper with his palm, "does she mean this stuff?"
+
+Evans lighted a cigarette before replying. "She sure does," he stated
+finally. "I was at the Randalls when she delivered her ultimatum and took
+to the war path. Talk about a jolt! After she left us, you could hear the
+shades of night falling. For ten minutes we sat there exhibiting all the
+vivacity of a deaf and dumb man at a Quaker prayer-meeting."
+
+Brierly laughed. "Oh, well," he said. "She'll do what all these
+suffragettes do--run around in a circle, yell herself tired, then marry
+some fellow and forget it."
+
+He yawned. Evans turned to the huge safe and got out a heavy packet of
+papers.
+
+"What are you doing, Grove?" Brierly demanded lazily.
+
+"Nothing," responded Evans curtly. "Just looking over some of our shady
+leases."
+
+"Hello!" said Brierly, getting on his feet. "Are you taking this thing
+seriously?"
+
+Evans turned with a folded paper in his hand.
+
+"You bet your life I am," he replied. "I know this girl. There's a strain
+of wild Irish in her and it's my opinion that she's going to raise merry
+hell!"
+
+The dreamer who had visited the Millville Button Works with the owner of
+the mill lunched with his friend in the city that day. Quite casually,
+among other items of interest, Mary Randall's adventure came up for
+discussion.
+
+"I don't know the girl," said the mill-owner, "but her announcement gives
+me a fairly good mental picture of her."
+
+"What's your picture?" inquired the journalist.
+
+"A rag and a bone and a hank of hair, one of these raving suffragettes.
+Since bomb-throwing and burning are not fashionable over here, she's
+chosen this means of expending her surplus energy."
+
+"My dear friend, you're entirely wrong!"
+
+"What! You've seen her?"
+
+"Oh, no, but I have quite a different mental picture of her. You remember
+Joan of Arc? Mount her on a charger, hand her a sword of fire and send
+her forth to fight for Mary Magdalene. That's my idea."
+
+"You've borrowed that from the headline writers," the mill-owner said.
+
+"Not at all. I know the type. A thoughtful young girl, healthy,
+cultivated and, by the modern miracle, taught how to think. She studies
+vice conditions in Chicago at first hand and what she sees turns her into
+a crusader. This girl has spirit. Brought face to face with a great evil,
+moved by the appeal of helpless womanhood, she throws aside her veneer of
+false education."
+
+"Unsexed!"
+
+"Yes, if you would say that the crisis in her life unsexed Portia. Or the
+crisis in France's history unsexed Charlotte Corday."
+
+"You're fond of historical allusions," chided the practical man. "Always
+the literary man, always the dreamer. This girl is a disturber. She'll
+unsettle business."
+
+"Ah, there you are. 'Unsettles business.' Did it ever strike you business
+men that you take yourselves too damn seriously? Any movement, any
+agitation that 'unsettles business' is ipse facto wrong. You business men
+have had a hand in the martyring of most of the saints and all of the
+reformers since time began. And, invariably, you are wrong. Why, you're
+wrong even about yourselves. You firmly believe that the foundations of
+the country rest upon you. As a matter of fact, not one per cent of you
+are producers. You're middlemen, profit shavers, parasites."
+
+"My dear fellow," asked his friend, "where would you be if business
+men--publishers--didn't buy your wares?"
+
+"Ha," answered the writer, "and where would the publishers be if I and
+others didn't produce the wares to market? It won't do. The reason the
+newspapers and magazines of this country are so bad is because most of
+the publishers are not newspaper men and magazine writers, but merely
+business men."
+
+"Well, I suppose your Joan of Arc will have to have her fling. Then life
+will swing back to its same old channels and we'll forget her."
+
+"Yes, she will have her fling and perhaps we'll forget her, but life will
+not swing back to the same old channel. She'll make a new channel,
+forgotten though she may be, and it will be a better channel."
+
+                    *       *       *       *       *
+
+Captain Shammer of the Eighth police district read Mary Randall's open
+letter through slowly and carefully. When he had finished he lighted a
+long black cigar from a box that had been sent him by a world famous
+confidence man. He smoked thoughtfully for some time. Then he put out a
+heavy hand and, without looking, pressed a white button at the side of
+his desk.
+
+A sharp-eyed young man opened the captain's door.
+
+"Nick," said the captain, "shut that door a minute and come over here."
+He pointed to the black newspaper headline.
+
+"Get that?" he demanded.
+
+"Sure, first thing this morning, Captain."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"We should worry."
+
+Captain Shammer rolled his cigar in his mouth. He wasn't exactly
+satisfied with the answer.
+
+"All right," he agreed finally, "but Nick--"
+
+"Yes, Captain." Nick paused alertly, one hand on the door knob.
+
+"Easy for a while until we see how things break on this."
+
+"Aye, aye, sir!"
+
+"Curtains drawn, you know, and back rooms quiet. Tell the girls to go
+slow on the piano playing. Did Ike, the dip, come across?"
+
+"Not yet, Captain."
+
+"Pinch him today and give him the cooler. Get me?"
+
+"It's done, cap."
+
+"Close in on the stuss games. Pass the word to go easy."
+
+"I get you."
+
+"Mary Randall, eh?" asked Captain Shammer of vacancy when his aid had
+gone. "Mary Randall! Well, Mary, you sure have got your nerve with you."
+
+Senator Barker was a member of the Governor's vice investigating
+committee. The committee had been appointed to frame a minimum wage law
+for women. He was a person of ponderous bulk and mental equipment. He had
+slipped into office, not because the people yearned for him, but because
+there had happened to be a battle on between two factions of his natural
+political opponents in the fortunate hour he had selected for aspiring to
+office. Like most other American officeholders he spent his days and
+nights scheming out ways to continue living at the public's expense. He
+perused Mary Randall's screed as he sat over his morning grape-fruit.
+
+In an intermission in the committee meeting Senator Barker leaned across
+the heavy oak table and pointed out the letter to the Rev. Wallace
+Stillwell.
+
+"Did you see that?" he inquired huskily.
+
+Mr. Stillwell nodded and drew his thin lips together. He was quite young
+and just now carried the burden of having been called from an obscure
+country pulpit to a fashionable church in Chicago. He knew that the
+wealthy man who was his sponsor in this new position was interested in
+whole blocks of houses whose curtains were always drawn. He had never
+forgotten a certain phrase that great man had used when he came in his
+own automobile to bear the young pastor to the new field of his labors.
+
+"We want you, Mr. Stillwell," he had said, "because we believe you to be
+a safe and sane man, one who will not be swept off his feet by wild-eyed
+reformers and the anarchistic tendencies of the times."
+
+Mr. Stillwell, therefore, knew why he was wanted in Chicago. The
+knowledge made him cautious in all things. He thought Senator Barker's
+question over carefully. Then he nodded calmly.
+
+"Why, yes, Senator," he answered. "One could hardly avoid reading it."
+
+"Well, what about it?"
+
+"Just what do you mean, Senator?"
+
+"You know. What do you think of it, eh?"
+
+"It seems to me," purred the Rev. Wallace Stillwell, "that the whole
+exploit is worse than fantastic. It is hardly in good taste.
+Investigations of the kind this girl has undertaken ought to be left to
+the men."
+
+"That's all right," put in the Senator, gloomily, "but I've noticed
+lately that the women don't seem to be willing to do that. They want to
+take a hand in such matters themselves." He leaned back in his chair
+sadly. "It certainly makes it hard for us politicians."
+
+                    *       *       *       *       *
+
+A woman of ample girth and a handmade complexion pushed her coffee cup
+away and lighted a fresh cigarette. She had just finished reading Mary
+Randall's manifesto. Nature had made her beautiful, but advancing years
+and too much art had all but destroyed Nature's handicraft. She inhaled
+the acrid smoke deeply and then raising her voice, called:
+
+"Celeste! You, Celeste!"
+
+A mulatto girl threw open the door, crying:
+
+"Yes, madame?"
+
+"What you doing?"
+
+"Cleaning up."
+
+"Get a bottle of wine. Or did those high rollers guzzle it all last
+night, the drunken beasts?"
+
+"No, madame. I've saved one for you." She opened the bottle and placed
+the effervescent liquid before her mistress.
+
+"All right, Celeste. Anybody up yet?"
+
+"I hardly think so, madame."
+
+"Well, I'm up and I wish I wasn't," announced a girl who appeared at that
+moment coming down the broad staircase. She entered the room.
+
+"Got a head this morning, eh, Nellie?" said the madame, knowingly.
+
+"Yes, I've got a head," replied Nellie sullenly, "and a grouch."
+
+"Make it two, Celeste," said the madame promptly, indicating the bottle.
+The colored maid poured out another glass of the liquor. Madame threw the
+paper across the table to the girl.
+
+"There," she said, "that's something that will make you worse."
+
+"Where?" asked the girl, as she caught up the paper.
+
+"Front page, big headlines. You can't miss it."
+
+The girl stepped to the window and pushed aside the heavy curtain. In the
+morning light she was revealed there petite and charming, despite
+penciled eyebrows and carmined lips. Her figure was daintily
+proportioned. There was grace in every line. Her deep brown eyes glowed
+as she read the words Mary Randall had written.
+
+When she finished reading the girl crumpled the paper in her hand and
+filled another glass. She lifted the wine slowly.
+
+"Here's to you, Mary Randall," she said.
+
+"That's a rotten toast," said the madame.
+
+"Is it?" replied the girl. "Well, let me tell you something. I'd like to
+go straight out of this house and find Mary Randall and say to her: 'I'm
+with you, Mary Randall, and I hope to God you win out.'"
+
+"You don't think of me," whined the older woman. "Look what a knock that
+reform stuff gives business."
+
+"You!" Nellie's temper flared into a flame. "Say, you ought to be in
+jail! Now don't start anything you can't finish--" The older woman had
+got to her feet menacingly. "You don't deserve no pity. You got into
+this"--she indicated the gaudily furnished house by a gesture, "with your
+eyes wide open. You picked out this business for yourself. But with me
+it's different." She leaned across the table defiantly. "Yes, how about
+me? How about Lottie and Emma--and that poor kid that came here happy
+because she thought she'd found a decent job? Did we pick out this
+business? Did we? Not on your life. We walked into a trap and we can't
+get out. Yes, and there's thousands like us all over this country." She
+snatched up the bottle and poured more wine. "I'm for you, Mary Randall,"
+she said, raising the glass to the sunlight. "More power to your elbow!"
+
+                    *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mary Randall read the newspapers in a garret room of a tall lodging
+house. A pile of letters, in a peculiar shade of dark blue, sealed,
+stamped and ready for the postoffice, lay in a heap before her. She went
+through each newspaper carefully, noting the display and studying the
+"features" of her story that had impressed the newspaper men. At last she
+laid them down.
+
+"Well, Anna," she said, smiling, addressing her maid. "We've made a good
+beginning. The town, you see, is interested in us."
+
+Anna's ordinarily impassive face smiled back at her mistress' enthusiasm.
+Her blue eyes lighted with admiring loyalty. She was blonde, big boned
+and so strongly built as to look actually formidable. Competency and
+reserve power fairly radiated from her. Her voice betrayed her
+Scandinavian ancestry.
+
+"Ya-as," she said, "and in another week they'll be fighting for us."
+
+Mary got up from her chair and went to the window, threw it wide open and
+looked out on the city. She saw its myriad lights rimming the shore of
+the inland sea. She heard its roar--deep, passionate, powerful. In her
+imagination she laid her ear close to the city's heart and she heard it
+beat strong and true. The smile had left her face and a prayer formed
+itself silently on her lips. The revery lasted only a moment.
+
+"And now," she said, "for the next movement in the battle." She indicated
+the letters. "There's our ammunition, Anna," she said. "Mail them. I've
+picked you for a great honor. You're to open the engagement with a
+fusillade of bombshells."
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XI
+
+                          A BOMB FOR MR. GROGAN
+
+
+The telephone in the outer office of the Lake City Telephone Company rang
+insistently. Miss Masters, the stenographer, after the fashion of
+stenographers, let it ring. At length the telephone gave vent to a long,
+shrill, despairing appeal and was silent. Then, and then only, did Miss
+Masters lay aside the bundle of letters she was sorting and pick up the
+receiver.
+
+"Yes?" she said. "Well, what is it?"
+
+Apparently a voice responded.
+
+"Speak a little louder, please," the girl said impersonally. "I can't
+hear a single word you're saying."
+
+More words from the outside poured through the receiver.
+
+"Yes." Miss Masters nodded mechanically. "Yes, this is the main office of
+the Lake City Electrical Company. What?"
+
+There was another pause.
+
+"This is Miss Masters at the 'phone,--yes--yes--I'm the stenographer.
+What's that? Private secretary? Yes, I am Mr. John Boland's private
+secretary. No, our president, Mr. Harry Boland, has not come downtown
+yet. We are expecting him at any moment."
+
+A red-headed office boy stuck an inquisitive head through the door.
+
+"Who's that," he demanded, "someone for the boss?"
+
+Miss Masters merely motioned him to silence.
+
+"Yes," she went on, "his father, Mr. John Boland, will be in some time
+during the morning. Who shall I say called?"
+
+The girl waited for the answer and hung up the receiver.
+
+"Who is it, Miss Masters?" inquired the boy.
+
+"Well, Dickey, I don't think it's any of your business," retorted Miss
+Masters good-naturedly. "But, for fear you'll burst with curiosity, I'll
+say that it's Mr. Martin Druce."
+
+"Happy as a crab this morning, ain't you?" jeered the boy. "Well, you
+want to look out for that geezer, Druce. He's a devil with the girls."
+
+Miss Masters made a face at him and the boy, whistling derisively,
+disappeared through the door, not failing to slam it loudly after him.
+
+Miss Masters resumed her letter sorting. The door opened slowly. A man
+entered with his hat over his eyes. His hands were deep in his pockets
+and he chewed a despondent looking cigar. Had the reader been present he
+would have recognized him instantly, despite his unaccustomed air of
+lugubriousness, as our old friend, Mr. Michael Grogan.
+
+"Good morning, Mr. Grogan," said Miss Masters cordially.
+
+Grogan made no reply. The girl went on with her work. Then as if
+communing with herself she said: "And yet they say the Irish are always
+polite."
+
+"Eh?" said Grogan, rousing himself, "what's that?"
+
+Miss Masters vouchsafed no reply. She merely laughed. Grogan, conscious
+that he was being chaffed, stared at her. He was pleased with what he
+saw. He found Miss Masters handsome. Her office dress, slit at the bottom
+and displaying at this moment a neat ankle, was ruched about the neck and
+sleeves. It was a rather elaborate dress for a stenographer, but John
+Boland was a vain man and liked to have the employes he kept close about
+him maintain the appearance of prosperity. In fact, he paid these
+particular employes well with the explicit understanding that they would
+keep their appearance up to his standard.
+
+"You're making light of me gray hairs, I see," said Mr. Grogan, smiling.
+
+"Well," said the girl, "I said good morning to you and you didn't even
+grunt in reply."
+
+"The top of the morning to you, Miss Masters," said Grogan, hastening to
+remedy his oversight and removing his hat with an ornate bow.
+
+"Sure, and I'm wishing you the same and many of them," replied the girl.
+
+Mr. Grogan bowed again and added:
+
+"And, if I have failed in the politeness due a lady, I begs yer pardon."
+
+"You're forgiven, Mr. Grogan," replied Miss Masters, resuming her work.
+
+Grogan returned to his meditations. He was regarding his mutilated cigar
+ruefully when Miss Masters observed:
+
+"If all of the millionaires were as thorough gentlemen as you are, Mr.
+Grogan, we wouldn't have any labor unions."
+
+The word millionaire seemed to sting Grogan.
+
+"I'll thank you," he said abruptly, "to leave me out of the millionaire
+class."
+
+"Why, Mr. Grogan," said the girl, surprised, "I thought you'd like that!"
+
+"So would I--wanst," retorted Grogan, "but now when any one says 'you
+millionaire,' faith, I get ready to dodge a brick."
+
+"I should think it would be pleasant to know you had a million dollars."
+There was a note of envy in the girl's voice.
+
+Grogan rose slowly, walked to the desk and leaned across it confidentially.
+
+"So it always was," he said sententiously, "but now they're beginning to
+ask, 'Where did you get it?'"
+
+"Oh," said the girl.
+
+"It's not 'Oh,' I'm saying," said Grogan, "it's 'Ouch!'"
+
+"Something's disturbing you, eh?"
+
+"Something--and somebody. 'Tis a girl."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Grogan!"
+
+"Whist!" retorted Mr. Grogan, "You don't get me meaning. It's not the
+kind you buy ice cream sodies for. No! This lady has a club in her fist
+and a punch in both elbows."
+
+"For you?"
+
+"I suspicion so, and I'm oneasy in me mind."
+
+"It's silly to worry, Mr. Grogan," said Miss Masters, "sit down and look
+over the papers." She extended a morning newspaper, smiling.
+
+"I may as well." Grogan took up the paper and selected a chair.
+
+"Stirring times in Chicago, just now," said the young woman.
+
+"They're stirring, all right," Grogan agreed. "They're too stirring. What I
+want is peace. I'd like to pass the rest of my days in quiet--quiet--and--"
+
+The sentence expired on his lips as he stared at the front page of the
+paper held open in his hands.
+
+"What's the matter, Mr. Grogan," said Miss Masters starting up, alarmed.
+
+Grogan wiped his forehead and moistened his lips.
+
+"Nothing," he said, "it's hot and I'm--I'm--"
+
+He threw the newspaper on the floor.
+
+"Here," he said, "give me another newspaper."
+
+The girl picked up another paper from the heap on the corner of the desk
+and passed it across to him. Grogan looked at the headlines.
+
+"Help--murder," he cried. Then he cast the paper on the floor and got to
+his feet abruptly.
+
+"Mr. Grogan," asked the girl, "what is the matter?"
+
+"I asked for quiet," Grogan replied, picking up the papers and shaking
+them angrily, "and on the front page of this paper is a letter written
+and signed by Mary Randall."
+
+"And why should Mary Randall disturb you?"
+
+"Do you know she writes to me?"
+
+"Writes to you?"
+
+"She does."
+
+"What does she say?"
+
+"Everything--and then some," was the grim response. "Don't laugh!" he
+ordered. "Here's one of the last of them." Grogan took a dark blue
+envelope from his pocket, extracted a single sheet of the same color and
+read.
+
+"Michael Grogan:--Do you remember what your old Irish mother said to you
+when you left Old Erin to seek your fortune in the new world? She said:
+'Mike, me boy, don't soil your hands with dirty money.' Mary Randall."
+
+"Don't soil your hands with dirty money," repeated Miss Masters.
+
+"That's a nice billy dux to find beside your plate at breakfast, ain't it
+now?" demanded Grogan. Then after a pause he murmured half to himself,
+
+"Me old Irish mother, God bless her, with her white hair and her sweet
+Connemara face! I can see her now, just as she stood there that day in
+the door of our cabin when I went off up the road, a slip of a boy, with
+a big bag of oatmeal over me shoulder--one shirt and me Irish fighting
+spirit. That was me capital in life, that and her blessing. She's
+sleeping there now, and the shamrock is growing over her--"
+
+Grogan stopped. His voice had grown husky.
+
+"Say," he demanded turning on Miss Masters abruptly, "why don't you make
+me stop? Don't you see I'm breaking me heart?"
+
+The girl had really been moved. "I can't," she said, "because--" She got
+out her powder puff and proceeded hastily to decorate her nose. She was
+still engaged in this operation when the telephone rang. Grogan started.
+
+"What's that?" he demanded.
+
+"Why, it's only the telephone. What is the matter with you, Mr. Grogan?"
+
+"I dunno," responded Grogan despondently, "I'm as nervous as a girl in a
+peek-a-boo waist."
+
+The telephone rang again.
+
+"Why don't you answer that?" demanded Grogan sharply.
+
+"I will," replied the girl, "but there's no great rush, is there?"
+
+"Yes there is," insisted Grogan, "I can't bear the suspense."
+
+The young woman laughed and picked up the receiver.
+
+"Lake City Electrical Company," she said. "What? Who is it, please."
+
+Grogan, who had continued pacing up and down the office, stopped and made
+wild gestures to Miss Masters. Covering the mouthpiece of the instrument
+so she would not be heard, the girl asked.
+
+"What is it, Mr. Grogan?"
+
+"Whist!" replied Grogan, "If that is Mary Randall on the wire there, I've
+gone to Alaska. I've given all me money away and I'm living on snow
+balls."
+
+Miss Masters smiled and replied with assurance: "This isn't Mary
+Randall."
+
+"Thank God for that," breathed Grogan.
+
+"Hello," went on Miss Masters into the telephone. "Oh, you're long
+distance? Well?"
+
+There was a pause.
+
+"I'm sorry, but Mr. Harry Boland hasn't come downtown yet."
+
+"He may be in any moment--shall I--"
+
+She broke off sharply as Harry himself came in the door drawing off his
+gloves.
+
+"Wait! Just a moment please," she went on. "He has just come in."
+
+"Someone for me, Miss Masters?" the young man inquired, hanging up his
+hat on a rack by the door. Without waiting for a reply he turned to
+Grogan. "Good morning, Mike."
+
+"'Tis a fine day--I hope," returned Grogan cautiously.
+
+"Yes, someone calling you, Mr. Boland," broke in Miss Masters.
+
+"Don't want to talk to anyone," said the young man curtly.
+
+"Hello, hello," continued Miss Masters at the telephone. "Hello, long
+distance? Mr. Boland is too busy--"
+
+"Wait, please," interrupted Harry quickly, "did you say 'long distance?'"
+
+Miss Masters nodded. "Just a moment," she said into the telephone.
+
+"Yes, Mr. Boland," she said. "It's a long distance. Some one wants to
+talk to you in--Millville, Illinois."
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XII
+
+                         BAD NEWS FROM MILLVILLE
+
+
+The word Millville had an instantaneous effect on Harry Boland. It was,
+in fact, the most pleasant sound he had heard in days. Upon returning to
+Chicago after his lover-like interview with Patience Welcome he had
+dispatched a long letter to her. To this he had received no reply. Then
+he wrote two letters in one day. Neither of them had been answered.
+Thoroughly disturbed now, but too busy to leave Chicago himself, Harry
+had sent his confidential man, John Clark, to Millville to learn, if
+possible, the cause of Patience's silence.
+
+While Harry stood eagerly waiting for the 'phone Miss Masters was busy
+getting the long distance connection.
+
+"All right, Mr. Boland," she said at last, "here's your party." Then into
+the telephone she continued: "Yes--Mr. Boland is here waiting. He will
+talk to Millville. Hello--hello--Millville? Hello!" She handed Harry the
+instrument.
+
+"I wouldn't answer that 'phone for a thousand dollars," put in Grogan
+dolefully.
+
+"Hello--hello!" exclaimed Harry.
+
+A shrill whistle rent the air and Grogan jumped hysterically.
+
+"What's that?" he demanded.
+
+"The postman's whistle," replied Miss Masters calmly, repressing a smile
+as she started for the outer door.
+
+"Hello, Millville, hello," called Harry Boland, not getting his
+connection.
+
+Grogan beckoned Miss Masters to his side. "If there's a letter there for
+me in an envelope like this," he said producing the dark blue letter from
+his pocket, "you keep it."
+
+"Really?" Miss Masters now smiled openly.
+
+"Keep it," reiterated Grogan, "don't show it to me or I'll climb up the
+side of the building and jump off."
+
+Miss Masters thoroughly amused vanished into the hall. Meanwhile Harry
+Boland was talking to Millville.
+
+"Millville?" he said. "Yes this is Harry Boland. Oh!" He paused with a
+distinct note of disappointment in his voice. "Oh, it's you, Clark? Yes I
+know--You've something to report about the Welcomes."
+
+"The Welcome family," said Grogan, pricking up his ears.
+
+"All right, I'm listening," Harry went on. "Yes, I get you."
+
+"Look at that now," continued Grogan reflectively.
+
+"No, no, you needn't wait there any longer--All right."
+
+He hung up the receiver.
+
+"Asking your pardon," ventured Grogan, "may I take the liberty of an old
+friend to inquire what Mr. Boland wants with a bum family like the
+Welcomes--"
+
+"Just a moment, Mike," interrupted Harry putting out his hand
+imperatively. "You're speaking of the girl I mean to marry."
+
+Grogan gaped at the young man.
+
+"I am?" he gasped.
+
+"You are," replied the other. He rose to his feet and turned tranquilly
+toward Grogan. "Now what are you going to say?" he inquired.
+
+"Nothing," said Grogan, too surprised to talk.
+
+"All right," replied Harry pointedly.
+
+"But the old man is no good," hazarded Grogan. "Tom Welcome is a
+worthless--"
+
+"He's dead, Mike," interrupted Harry.
+
+"What?" This was a day of surprises for Grogan.
+
+"He's dead," repeated Harry, "died the night we left Millville."
+
+"Well," Grogan's manner had changed. "There were some good points about
+the man, after all. I've heard he'd never take a drink alone--if he could
+avoid it."
+
+"And the Welcome family has moved away," Harry went on.
+
+"Where?"
+
+"No one knows. I've been too busy to investigate myself so I sent Clark
+to locate them."
+
+"Aha," said Grogan. "Then it was Clark you were talking to?"
+
+"Of course," replied Harry impatiently, "didn't you hear?"
+
+"Yes, yes, but--" Grogan broke off abruptly. "Say, didn't that fat fellow
+who was going to be a detective, the fellow who nearly killed me riding
+on his grocery wagon, didn't he know anything?"
+
+"He's left Millville, too."
+
+"What!" exclaimed Grogan incredulously. "Do you mean to say a bunch like
+that can drop out of a town like Millville without anyone knowing where
+they've gone?"
+
+"I'm not telling you. The facts speak for themselves," said Harry.
+
+Both men were silent.
+
+"Mike," said young Boland suddenly.
+
+"Yes," responded Grogan.
+
+"You were married?"
+
+The Irishman was too surprised by the question to answer.
+
+"I've heard you speak about your wife," Harry insisted.
+
+Grogan still vouchsafed no answer. He stood staring at Boland.
+
+"I've heard you speak of your wife, Norah," repeated Harry, "in a way
+that made me feel how sacred her memory was to you. She married you, a
+husky young Irish laborer in the mills, and how that little woman worked
+for you, toiling, saving, scrimping, tending the babies as they came! How
+you worshiped her, and big man as you were, how a word from her would
+make you kneel at her feet. You held her in your arms when the little
+mounds were raised in the church yard--"
+
+Grogan listened in silence, deeply moved. He put out his hand and grasped
+Harry's firmly.
+
+"That's the way I love Patience Welcome, Mike," went on Harry, "just as
+you loved Norah McGuire."
+
+"Well," broke in Grogan huskily, "I didn't know--I--" He turned suddenly
+and demanded, "Well then, why in hell don't you find her?"
+
+"I'm going to try."
+
+"And I'll help ye!"
+
+"Good old Mike," said Harry, putting his arm around Grogan's shoulders,
+"Aha, you can't beat the Irish!"
+
+"Yes, you can," responded Grogan, "but they won't stay beaten."
+
+The conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Boland senior. He
+hung up his hat, took off his gloves and rubbed his hands together.
+
+"Ah," he said, "good morning Harry--Mike."
+
+"Morning, Governor," returned Harry tersely. Grogan acknowledged the
+salutation with a grunt.
+
+"Have Miss Masters make out a lease for that house in South Twelfth
+street," went on the elder Boland briskly. He laid some papers on the
+table. "Here is the copy of the present lease with the necessary changes
+noted."
+
+"Who's the lessee?" inquired Harry carelessly.
+
+"Carter Anson."
+
+"What!" exclaimed Harry in amazement.
+
+"Well, well, what's the matter?" demanded the father.
+
+"Ask Mike," said the young man turning with a smile to Grogan.
+
+"I refuse to answer any questions," declared Grogan. "'Tis a little rule
+I learned in politics."
+
+"Carter Anson is going to be indicted by the grand jury," Harry informed
+his father.
+
+"Ah," said John Boland, "you've been reading the yellow journals."
+
+"They're yellow," conceded Harry, "because they contain so many golden
+truths."
+
+"Mary Randall, please write," sneered the elder Boland.
+
+"Stop! No!" Grogan, who had been sitting down jumped to his feet in
+protest. The others looked at him in astonishment. He sat down again
+shamefacedly. "I don't want Mary Randall to write to me," he admitted
+dolefully.
+
+"What's come over you, Grogan?" inquired John Boland sharply.
+
+"A blue envelope--a sheet of blue paper with words on it, and--I've got a
+pain in the back of my neck." Grogan brought forth the blue letter again
+and gazed at it gloomily.
+
+"You're crazy," John Boland informed him curtly. Then he turned to Harry.
+"Look here, my boy," he said, "don't be a fool--"
+
+"He's your son," interrupted Grogan chuckling.
+
+"Keep quiet, Mike. You know, Harry, I own that property with Mike here,
+and--"
+
+Grogan interrupted again. "Look here, John Boland," he inquired, "how
+much will you give me for my share?"
+
+"Two thousand dollars."
+
+"It's yours," said Grogan.
+
+"Why it's worth double that!" exclaimed John Boland.
+
+"Never mind that. It's yours," repeated Grogan. "I'll give two thousand
+for my peace of mind any day."
+
+"Are you crazy?"
+
+"Not yet--but I'm headed that way. Take it at two thousand and I'll love
+you, John."
+
+"All right."
+
+"But, Governor," protested Harry, "don't you know--"
+
+"Now don't let a fool reform wave scare you," burst out the father
+irritably. "Did you ever see a vice investigation get anywhere? Never!
+Just a lot of talk and--letters."
+
+Miss Masters appeared with a package of letters in her hands. "Mail, Mr.
+Boland," she said. She began sorting the letters. "Four for you, Mr.
+Boland," she went on, "and a special for Mr. Harry Boland."
+
+Grogan had been watching her intently. He breathed deeply and muttered:
+"Sure and I'm an old fool. Why should I be afraid of letters? Who could
+write--"
+
+Miss Masters interrupted. "And one for you, Mr. Grogan," she said
+casually.
+
+Grogan dropped into his chair crying: "Help!" Then cautiously he took the
+letter from Miss Masters. The envelope was white and he heaved a sigh of
+relief.
+
+"What the deuce ails you this morning, Grogan?" demanded John Boland
+irritated.
+
+"I'm getting second sight," returned Grogan gloomily, "and I don't like
+it."
+
+"Oh, don't be a fool." John Boland began opening his mail. "All this
+investigating," he continued, "this talk of a minimum wage law, is just
+talk and that's all. Now take this crazy woman--Mary Randall--"
+
+While he spoke he had opened a letter containing a second enclosure. It
+was an envelope of a peculiar shape and its color was dark blue.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIII
+
+                THE READER MEETS ANOTHER OLD ACQUAINTANCE
+
+
+The sight of the blue envelope had transfixed Grogan. He stood staring at
+it like a man in the presence of a ghost.
+
+"The blue envelope, again," he cried. "A harpoon for you, John."
+
+John Boland made no reply. He reached for his paper knife, ripped open
+the envelope and drew forth a sheet of blue note paper. He read with a
+gathering frown what had been written on it. Then he reread it, muttering
+under his breath.
+
+"Does it hurt you much, John?" inquired Grogan, enjoying the other's
+discomfiture.
+
+For answer the elder Boland scrutinized Grogan over his glasses.
+
+"What do you know about this, Mike?" he demanded.
+
+"Only that I got one of those blue bombs myself this morning," retorted
+Grogan.
+
+"Listen to this." John Boland flourished the envelope angrily. "'The
+owner of property who leases same to vice is morally responsible for the
+crimes committed on his premises. Mary Randall.'"
+
+He turned to Grogan. "What do you think of that?" he asked.
+
+"She's hit home," replied Grogan grimly.
+
+"Damn her, for a brazen busybody," blurted Boland angrily. "Why doesn't
+she mind her own business?"
+
+Meanwhile Harry was opening an envelope the exact counterpart of his
+father's. He read the note twice and stood considering its import.
+
+"Another of 'em?" said the elder Boland. "Well, what's yours, Harry?"
+
+"Mine?--Oh,--mine--why," the young man faltered.
+
+"Well, well, can't you speak?" demanded the father irritably.
+
+Harry returned no direct reply. Opening his note he read:
+
+"'We count on young men like you, Harry Boland, to lead the fight we are
+making to save our Little Lost Sisters. Mary Randall.'"
+
+"Now," chuckled Grogan, "you know how I felt when I got my little blue
+envelope this morning." As he spoke he tore off the end of the envelope
+which he had held unnoticed. Inserting his finger and thumb into the
+envelope he went on:
+
+"Do you know, I never did like the color of blue--"
+
+He broke off as he lowered his eyes to the enclosure he had brought out.
+It was another blue letter. Grogan started up and jerked out the note.
+Holding it at arms' distance he read:
+
+"'The strength of Ireland is in the purity of her sons and daughters.
+Mary Randall.'"
+
+The three men stood staring at each other in amazement.
+
+"Mary Randall." John Boland broke the silence with a sneer.
+
+"Mary Randall," repeated Harry quietly.
+
+"Oh you Mary Randall!" put in Grogan with just a touch of admiration in
+his voice. "She's the lady champion lightweight. Three knock-outs in
+three minutes. 'Tis a world's record!" He turned to the elder Boland.
+"Does the punch she gave you hurt much?" he inquired.
+
+Boland glared at Grogan. "Who the devil is Mary Randall?" he demanded.
+
+"I've never met her," replied Harry. "She's a member of the wealthy
+Randall family. Her mother died when she was young and I understand she
+was brought up very quietly."
+
+"Do you know her, Miss Masters," persisted Boland.
+
+The girl was startled, "I--why--I?" she hesitated.
+
+"Yes--yes," said Harry, "do you know her?"
+
+The girl still hesitated and Grogan broke in.
+
+"You're a woman, Miss Masters," he said, "you ought to know all the
+feminine quirks. Now it's up to you. Who's Mary Randall?"
+
+"Mary Randall is a wealthy girl," said Miss Masters calmly. "She has
+grown weary of the foolish methods you men have employed in attacking the
+vice problem. Convinced of your total incompetence she has started out
+really to do something."
+
+"What does she want?" snorted John Boland.
+
+"She said in a printed letter," replied Miss Masters, "that she wanted to
+put several property owners and crooked senators in jail."
+
+Grogan was impressed by this statement.
+
+"Do you want to buy the rest of my South Side property, John?" he
+inquired of Boland.
+
+"Doesn't she know she's disturbing business?" asked Boland of Miss
+Masters, ignoring Grogan.
+
+"Mary Randall also said," the girl replied, "that the greatest business
+in the world is that of redeeming 'Little Lost Sisters.'"
+
+"You see, you see," said Grogan, "the farther you go, John, the more
+punches you get."
+
+"I haven't time to bother with this foolishness," said Boland. "I've got
+a big contract on with the Simmons people."
+
+He went to the door of his son's office.
+
+"Come on Harry--you too Mike. Come in, Miss Masters, and take down this
+contract."
+
+The three men started toward the door. As Grogan passed Miss Masters he
+whispered: "Young woman, if any more blue skyrockets come for me, play
+the hose on them."
+
+"Very well," said the girl, smiling.
+
+Having secured her notebook she started toward the inner office when a
+smartly dressed young man entered.
+
+"Hello girlie," he said, intercepting her.
+
+"Good morning," replied Miss Masters primly. "What's your business?"
+
+"Oh, just like that, eh?" said the youth.
+
+"Yes," replied the girl sharply. "What do you want?"
+
+"Mr. John Boland."
+
+"You can't see him now. He's busy."
+
+There was a sharp, impatient call from the inner office.
+
+"Yes sir, I'm coming," replied the girl.
+
+"Well, be quick about it," returned the voice. "Do you think I can wait
+all day?"
+
+"That's John Boland, isn't it?" inquired the man eagerly.
+
+Miss Masters nodded assent.
+
+"Well, tell him--"
+
+"I'm sorry," broke in the girl, "but he's busy. He won't see anyone."
+
+"Well then, tell him when you can that Martin Druce called."
+
+"Martin Druce!" Miss Masters kept her eyes on the blank page before her,
+but she made no effort to make a memorandum of the name. She added
+slowly:
+
+"You called on the 'phone this morning."
+
+"I sure did." Druce, with the familiarity of an old acquaintance, began
+toying with the silver vanity box Miss Randall wore suspended from her
+neck. "Say," he went on insinuatingly, "you have the sweetest voice--"
+
+"Better tell me why you want to see Mr. Boland," she said quietly taking
+the vanity box from him and putting him at a distance. At the same time
+she smiled at him archly.
+
+"Just want to renew a lease--the Cafe Sinister."
+
+"Oh," said the girl, "I've heard of it."
+
+"It's some swell place," replied Druce with pride.
+
+"Yes?" said the girl. She pantomimed counting money. "Yes, as long as you
+can keep the police asleep."
+
+"What in--what the deuce do you mean?" Druce inquired quickly.
+
+Miss Masters shrugged her shoulders. Again she smiled at him archly.
+
+"Oh, you're wise, eh?" Druce laughed. He felt that he was on familiar
+ground with this girl. There was that in her manner that indicated the
+wisdom of the demi-monde. He thought he had placed her.
+
+"You're wise, eh?" he repeated. The girl had maneuvered to place a table
+between them. He leaned against the table and placed a hand on hers.
+
+"Why does a fine looker like you spend her life pounding a typewriter?"
+
+"Would you advise a change?"
+
+"You could make a hundred a week in the cabarets," declared Druce
+admiringly.
+
+"Perhaps," replied Miss Masters. She picked up her notebook and started
+for the inner office. "But I know where that road leads."
+
+Druce was daunted with this reply. It wasn't at all what he had expected.
+
+"Oh," he jeered, "you're one of the goody-goody kind, are you? Fare you
+well. I'll see you in church Sunday."
+
+The girl was now at the inner office door. She turned and eyed Druce
+narrowly.
+
+"Thank you," she replied without anger.
+
+"Perhaps, some day, I'll see you wearing stripes and looking through iron
+bars!"
+
+The door shut swiftly behind her, leaving Druce staring at the panels.
+
+"What do you know about that," he spoke aloud, though there was no one in
+the outer office to hear him.
+
+"Never mind, kid--you're no boob, anyway." He turned on his heel and
+walked out.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XIV
+
+                 IN WHICH THE WOLF IS BITTEN BY THE LAMB
+
+
+John Boland was a very capable business man. He possessed the combination
+of shrewdness, ability to grasp and marshal details, and that utter
+selfishness which the world from time immemorial has rewarded with huge
+accumulations of money. He had one of those minds which find their
+recreation in intrigue. Unembarrassed by a conscience and unhampered by
+scruples he drove directly to his goal--success.
+
+As head of the Electric Trust Boland was compelled to be at once a
+financier and a politician. The faculties for success in both fields are
+closely allied; in both Boland was eminently triumphant. Sitting in his
+office day after day, unmoved by events that might have disturbed other
+men and unstirred by emotions that might have turned other men from their
+paths, he looked out over the city and "played his game" with all the
+cold impassiveness of a gambler operating an infallible system in
+roulette. No detail was too small to escape his notice, no agent too
+ignoble to serve his purpose.
+
+These facts are mentioned to explain the relationship that existed
+between John Boland and Martin Druce. In these two men, the social
+extremes of the city met--Boland, the financial power and leading
+citizen; Druce, the dive keeper and social outcast. They met because
+Boland wished it. Druce was one of the creatures that he could and often
+did use in his business.
+
+Although ostensibly ignorant of the very existence of Druce, Boland in
+reality had the man often in his thoughts. He kept these thoughts hidden
+in that inner chamber of his mind from which, from time to time, emerged
+those inspirations that had made his name a by-word on La Salle street
+for supernatural astuteness. Not even the most intimate of his coworkers
+guessed them.
+
+For nearly a month now Druce had been calling at Boland's offices intent
+on obtaining a renewal of his lease to the Cafe Sinister. During that
+entire month he had never been able to obtain even a word with the master
+financier. Boland had purposely refused to grant the interview so
+frequently requested by Druce not because he had any repugnance against
+doing business with the dive keeper but because to his mind there had
+never appeared any good reason why he should grant that interview. He
+played the waiting game with Druce because he had found by profitable
+experience that the waiting game paid John Boland best. The time might
+come when he would be able to use so excellent a tool as Druce to its
+best advantage. Boland was waiting calmly for that time. If Druce
+suffered in the interim John Boland was unable to see how that was any of
+his concern. In fact, Boland figured, the more Druce suffered, the keener
+a tool he would be for his purposes.
+
+Druce guessed something of this. He too possessed a mind adapted to
+intrigue. Therefore every rebuff from Boland found him undaunted. He knew
+that his time must come. He called at Boland's offices again and again,
+smiling always in the face of denial.
+
+Of late a new incentive for calling at the Electric Trust's offices had
+developed for Druce. This was furnished by Miss Masters. The girl's
+charming looks had aroused the man's curiosity and cunning. Her air of
+worldly wisdom, her alternate repulses and advances, had stirred him as
+he had rarely been stirred before. In his eagerness to possess her he
+almost lost sight of the main object of his visits.
+
+But whether by accident or design Druce was never able to get a word with
+the girl alone. She was always, save on the sole occasion of his last
+visit, either engaged with Harry Boland's dictation, or, if in the outer
+office, chaperoned by Harry Boland's red-headed office boy. One day Druce
+met Red in the lower corridor of the Electric Trust building. The boy
+grinned knowingly at him and yelled as he hurried by.
+
+"I'll be back in a minute."
+
+"Don't hurry on my account," answered Druce, but at the moment it came to
+him that Red's chaperonage of Miss Masters might not be entirely
+accidental.
+
+Druce stepped into the elevator and was let out at the Electric Trust's
+offices. He entered and found the offices empty.
+
+"Hang the little fool," he said, "she doesn't know which side her bread
+is--"
+
+"Meaning whom?" inquired Miss Masters' saccharine voice.
+
+Druce turned quickly and saw Miss Masters coming from the inner office.
+He was impressed by the attractiveness of her dress.
+
+"Where does she get all the glad rags?" he demanded of himself. "Maybe
+old Boland--"
+
+"Who's a little fool?" persisted Miss Masters.
+
+"Nobody," returned Druce. "Just talking to myself. Mr. Boland's out or
+busy, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes, Mr. Boland's out," replied Miss Masters. She sat down at a
+typewriter and inserted a sheet of paper in the machine. "He left a
+message for you, however. He told me this morning that if you called I
+should ask you to 'phone him about twelve o'clock. He'll try to see you
+then for a moment."
+
+"All right," said Druce, "thanks." But he made no move to go. He watched
+the girl as she hammered the typewriter keys. Presently she looked up at
+him inquiringly.
+
+This to Druce appeared to be a direct offer to open a conversation. He
+hastened to take advantage of it.
+
+"Yes," he replied in his most ingratiating manner, drawing near her. "I
+want to talk to you. I have been dying to speak to you alone, girlie--"
+
+The girl rose from her chair and picked up her notebook.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Druce," she said.
+
+"Yes, girlie."
+
+Miss Masters opened the notebook and took a lead pencil from the shining
+rolls of her hair.
+
+"I have to keep a record of all callers," said the girl unexpectedly.
+"Mr. Boland is very particular about it. Let me see, your name is Martin
+Druce?"
+
+She wrote the name into her book and showed it to him.
+
+"I have the name correctly, haven't I, Mr. Druce?" she went on.
+
+"Rather tardy with your duties, aren't you?" inquired Druce with a smile.
+"I've been coming here for some days now and you haven't wanted to put me
+into your book before."
+
+"Perhaps," replied the girl, "I haven't noticed you."
+
+Druce was sure now that he was beginning a flirtation with her.
+
+"And your business?" continued the girl.
+
+"Oh, Boland knows my business," replied Druce, with an air of
+carelessness.
+
+"No doubt he does, but I don't. And how can I keep my records properly if
+I don't know? I can't bother Mr. Boland with these details. What is your
+business?"
+
+"Why--ah--" hesitated Druce. "Live stock."
+
+"What kind of live stock?" persisted Miss Masters, preparing to write
+down his answer.
+
+"Eh!" Druce began to feel that he was being badgered.
+
+"What kind of live stock do you deal in?"
+
+"See here," snarled Druce, "what are you trying to do?"
+
+Miss Masters' answer was perfectly calm. "I am trying," she said, "to
+find out what kind of live stock you deal in, Mr. Druce."
+
+"Forget it!"
+
+"Are you ashamed to tell me?"
+
+Druce turned on the girl as though stung.
+
+"Why should I be ashamed?" he blustered. He moved toward the door.
+
+"I'll know that," replied Miss Masters, "when you tell me what kind of
+live stock you deal in."
+
+There was a stern quality in Miss Masters' voice that Druce had noticed
+in the voice of a district attorney with whom he had once had an
+unpleasant interview. The man was a coward. He wanted to be off.
+
+"Every kind," he blurted. "Good day."
+
+A moment later he found himself in the hallway. "Red," the office boy,
+had just come from the elevator.
+
+"What's the trouble, Druce?" demanded the boy. "You look pale around the
+gills."
+
+"You go to hell, you little rat," retorted Druce, and without waiting for
+the elevator vanished down the steps, with the jeering laughter of the
+boy ringing in his ears.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XV
+
+                  THE SEARCH BEGINS FOR THE LOST SISTER
+
+
+There was nothing in Miss Masters' manner after Druce had made his hasty
+departure to indicate that she felt any thrills of triumph over the
+completeness of the dive keeper's rout. On the contrary she seemed
+unaccountably depressed. She sat down at her typewriter thinking deeply.
+Presently her meditations were disturbed.
+
+The door opened quietly. A man entered who, in spite of the shabbiness of
+his clothing, his emaciation and the haggardness of his features the
+reader would have had no difficulty in recognizing. He was Harvey
+Spencer. He stood in the open door looking at the girl uncertainly. She
+took him in in a glance.
+
+"Good morning," she said sympathetically. "You are looking for someone
+here?"
+
+"I was," replied Harvey enigmatically, "but he's gone."
+
+"Gone?" repeated the girl.
+
+"Yes," replied the caller quickly, "perhaps you can give me some
+information. That man, who stepped in here a moment ago--you know who he
+is?"
+
+"Yes," replied the girl, "his name is Martin Druce."
+
+"That's his name, yes--what's his business?"
+
+"Live stock, he says," replied Miss Masters in some surprise.
+
+"You know where he lives?"
+
+"No. Won't you sit down?"
+
+"I can't. I'm following him."
+
+The girl was bewildered. "Are you a detective?" she inquired.
+
+The question produced an extraordinary effect on the young man. He threw
+up his head and gave vent to a short, sharp exclamation.
+
+"Ha!" he said. "No," he went on, "I once thought I was a detective, but I
+woke up." Then he started for the door. "Thank you," he said. As he
+reached for the knob he reeled and clutched at the wall for support. Miss
+Masters started toward him.
+
+"Come," she said, "sit down. Aren't you feeling ill? Let me get you a
+glass of water."
+
+She drew a glass full from a cooler and carried it to the young man.
+
+"It's warm," she said, "you're exhausted."
+
+Harvey gulped the contents of the glass, and looked at Miss Masters
+mournfully.
+
+"Thanks," he said. "Yes--mighty warm."
+
+"Looking for a job?" inquired Miss Masters.
+
+"I ought to be," was the reply.
+
+"Why aren't you?"
+
+"Because," Harvey's despondency deepened, "I'm looking for a girl."
+
+"A girl from down state?"
+
+"How did you know that?"
+
+"Why," replied Miss Masters, "you don't belong to Chicago. Your clothes
+tell me that. And the girl--she was from your own town?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Tell me about it?" Miss Masters' manner was friendly. She drew a chair
+and sat down opposite the young man. Harvey was so moved by this unlocked
+for sympathy that tears filled his eyes.
+
+"Her name," he said huskily, "was Elsie Welcome. She ran away. Her father
+had beaten her. On the night she left the father died. We were to have
+been married. I learned that she had come to Chicago with this
+man--Martin Druce. I followed her. For days I have tramped the streets.
+Today I caught a glimpse of Druce as he entered an elevator in this
+building. I had just reached here when I lost sight of him."
+
+The door behind him opened slowly. Miss Masters looked up to see a gray
+haired woman enter. She wore a waist and skirt of dead black with a
+little old fashioned black bonnet. Her face was sweet with motherliness,
+but drawn with sorrow and exhaustion.
+
+"Harvey," she said.
+
+Harvey turned and hurried to her side.
+
+"I saw you come in here, Harvey," the woman went on, "so I followed. I
+hope we're not intruding Miss--"
+
+"Masters is my name," responded the stenographer quickly.
+
+"This is the girl's mother," said Harvey. "This is Mrs. Martha Welcome."
+
+Miss Masters hastened to bring another chair.
+
+"And your daughter," she asked quickly, "have you--"
+
+"I--I don't think there was anything wrong in Elsie's going away,"
+interrupted Mrs. Welcome. "She wasn't happy and her father--"
+
+"Her father beat her," said Harvey wrathfully.
+
+"Harvey," chided Mrs. Welcome, "Tom's dead. He wasn't a bad man, Miss
+Masters. He lost his courage when he lost his invention."
+
+"I understand," said Miss Masters sympathetically. "You haven't heard
+anything from your lost girl?"
+
+"No," replied Mrs; Welcome sadly, "not a word. Patience and I and Harvey
+came to the city hoping to find her--"
+
+"Patience?"
+
+"She's my other daughter," replied Mrs. Welcome, "two years older. Elsie
+was my baby." Her voice broke.
+
+"I'm wondering," she went on in subdued tones, "if she's all right. I've
+prayed, too. Seems as though I've prayed every minute that God would
+bring my baby back to me. You don't think it makes any difference, do
+you, Miss Masters, even if we are in a great, noisy city? God is here,
+too, isn't he?"
+
+She put out her hand impulsively and Miss Masters took it into her own
+cool palm.
+
+"Yes, God is here," she replied reverently, "though sometimes it is hard
+to have faith and believe it."
+
+Harvey had walked away and stood looking out at the door.
+
+"Here's Patience," he said suddenly.
+
+Patience Welcome entered almost immediately. She was dressed in the same
+somber black as her mother. She wore a heavy veil pushed back from the
+brim of her hat. Harvey presented her to Miss Masters.
+
+"I've good news for you, mother," exclaimed Patience after acknowledging
+the introduction. "I've got a place in that office I went into when I
+left you. I begin work tomorrow. Then when I came out and missed you I
+was terribly frightened, but the elevator man told me you had come in
+here. And so I found you."
+
+"Your mother has been telling me something about the search for your
+sister," said Miss Masters. "Perhaps I may be able to help you. Could you
+tell me something about it?"
+
+"Thank you," replied Patience, "we need help. It seems as if we had
+exhausted all our own resources. But we mustn't stop now. Mother is worn
+out."
+
+"Perhaps," said Miss Masters, "it would be better if this young man
+should take your mother home. You and I may be able to talk the situation
+over more confidentially if we are alone."
+
+"You think you can help us?" inquired Patience eagerly.
+
+Miss Masters was thoughtful. "Yes," she said, "I believe I have unusual
+facilities for helping you. I know a great deal about Chicago--"
+
+"Then," said Patience, "I'll put our case in your hands. I know I can
+trust you. Somehow, I feel better already."
+
+She took Miss Masters' hands in her own, confidently.
+
+"Yes," returned Miss Masters, a little tremulously, "you can trust me."
+
+Harvey in the meantime had helped Mrs. Welcome with her wraps and was
+leading her toward the door.
+
+"I'll follow in a little while," said Patience, as the two passed out the
+door. "I'll be home in time for supper."
+
+"Now," said Miss Masters, after Harvey and Mrs. Welcome were gone, "first
+tell me if you have any money."
+
+Patience hesitated. Such a question coming from a stranger embarrassed
+her.
+
+"Yes," she said slowly, "I think we have enough money. Harvey brought
+fifty dollars with him and Mother was given some money by a man who came
+to our aid, in Millville--"
+
+"Millville?" interrupted Miss Masters.
+
+"Yes," continued Patience, "that is the town we live in. The man's name
+was Dudley--"
+
+"Dudley!"
+
+Patience looked at Miss Masters in surprise. "You know him?" she asked.
+
+Miss Masters hesitated. "The name seems familiar," she said.
+
+"He was a stranger in Millville," Patience went on. "My mother wired to
+her sister, Sarah, for money after Elsie left us and my father died. My
+aunt sent us forty dollars."
+
+There was a pause after this explanation, then Miss Masters went on
+hesitatingly.
+
+"Forgive me, Miss Welcome," she said, "if I speak plainly to you. Were
+there any strangers in Millville about the time your sister went away?"
+
+"Strangers?" repeated Patience.
+
+"Any attractive young men," pursued Miss Masters.
+
+"Why--why--I--" stammered Patience in confusion.
+
+"There were, I see."
+
+"You don't think my sister--" burst out Patience.
+
+"Forgive me," interrupted Miss Masters, "but when an innocent country
+girl leaves her home suddenly it is a good rule to look for--the man."
+
+"You think some one lured Elsie away?" said Patience stifled by the
+thought. "That some man is to blame?"
+
+"It isn't an easy thing to say, my dear, but I do."
+
+"Aren't there laws against such crimes?"
+
+"Yes," replied Miss Masters, "but these laws were made by men, and men
+have always shown an unwillingness to legislate against their sex. Now
+there were some young men in Millville at the time your sister went away,
+weren't there?"
+
+"Yes," admitted Patience, "two."
+
+"Do you know their names?"
+
+"Martin Druce."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"You know him?"
+
+"I have seen him." Miss Masters opened her memorandum book. "Martin
+Druce," she read, "dealer in live stock."
+
+"Yes," assented Patience, "he told us that was his business."
+
+"And the other stranger, Miss Welcome? Do not hide any of the facts."
+
+"I'd rather not say," replied Patience hesitatingly.
+
+"You had better tell me," urged Miss Masters.
+
+"I--I can't," exclaimed the girl, "it hurts me even to think that he--"
+
+"Better tell me," Miss Masters persisted.
+
+"The other young man," said Patience, "was--Harry Boland."
+
+"What?" exclaimed Miss Masters sharply.
+
+"You know Harry Boland?" Patience flushed and stood up.
+
+"I do. You are in the Bolands' outer offices at this moment."
+
+She had scarcely spoken when the door of Harry Boland's office opened and
+the young man came out.
+
+Patience drew her heavy veil down over her face and darted toward the
+outer door.
+
+"Here is a corrected form of that contract, Miss Masters," said young
+Boland brusquely.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XVI
+
+                     JOHN BOLAND MEETS MARY RANDALL
+
+
+But Patience did not leave the office of the Lake City Electrical Company
+as quickly as she had hoped to do. She was intercepted by the young man,
+who deliberately placed himself between her and the door, effectually
+blocking the way.
+
+He eyed the small figure in black with an inquisitiveness which was
+almost rude, attempting to peer through the meshes of the heavy veil, as
+he spoke to Miss Masters:
+
+"I beg your pardon, I thought you were alone."
+
+Before she could reply a rasping voice called from the inner office:
+
+"Oh, Harry, send Miss Masters in here, will you?"
+
+"The Governor wants you, Miss Masters," said Harry, his eyes still on
+Patience.
+
+"I'm coming, Mr. Boland," proclaimed the stenographer.
+
+With only a glance at her companions, she made a detour of the desk in
+the center of the room and glided into the other office.
+
+"I'm afraid Miss Masters may be kept busy for some time," volunteered
+Harry kindly, "but if--if you care to wait--"
+
+Patience only bowed her head and attempted to pass him; but she caught
+her breath quickly and her body swayed slightly, but perceptibly.
+
+"I beg your pardon," went on Harry, fencing for time.
+
+Again endeavoring to pass him, she staggered and put out one hand to
+steady herself, which Harry clasped quickly.
+
+"Let me help you," he said.
+
+She made a movement to release her hand as she recovered from the
+dizziness which had seized her.
+
+"Better put up your veil, dear," said Harry gently. "I'm sure it is you."
+
+"Please!" pleaded Patience. The word was scarcely audible.
+
+"Put up your veil," he persisted.
+
+When she complied, he gazed into her deep, dark eyes and stroked her hand
+tenderly.
+
+"Did you think I could be in the same room with you and not know you? Oh,
+my dear--"
+
+"No, Harry, no!" protested Patience, withdrawing her hand.
+
+"If you knew how long and patiently I've searched for you, I don't think
+you could be so unkind."
+
+"It's the only safe way," she replied, stepping away from him and
+clutching the back of a chair.
+
+"Why?" he asked as he went close to her again.
+
+"Because--because--"
+
+"Because you do really care for me and you're fighting against yourself."
+
+"Please let me go," begged Patience.
+
+"No!" returned the young man stoutly.
+
+"What shall I do?" she pleaded distractedly.
+
+"Just turn around," was the smiling retort, "and run straight into the
+arms of the man who loves you."
+
+"And bring trouble and sorrow on you? No--no--no!"
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"Please don't ask me," she went on. "I've been through the deep waters of
+grief and suffering. Harry, I've been hungry."
+
+"Hungry!" exclaimed Harry. "Oh, my poor girl, you must let me--"
+
+Patience shook her head slowly, sadly; an eager light of desire for his
+love and tender care illuminated her face.
+
+"Do you love me?" pursued the young man fervently.
+
+"You mustn't ask me that--wait!"
+
+"And lose you again?" He laid his hand on one of hers. "No; I want my
+answer now."
+
+A harsh, commanding voice interrupted them.
+
+"Harry!"
+
+Patience started and drew her hand from beneath the other's touch as an
+elderly man came into the room.
+
+"Governor!" exclaimed Harry, a little surprised, but entirely composed as
+he went on:
+
+"Governor, I want you to meet the young lady who is to be my wife."
+
+"What!" ejaculated John Boland, scarcely believing his own ears.
+
+"Miss Patience Welcome."
+
+"Welcome?" the older man turned his back to conceal the startled
+expression which came over his features.
+
+"Yes. This is my good old dad, Patience," said Harry, laying one arm
+affectionately about his father's shoulders.
+
+"Rather sudden, isn't it?" demanded Boland, senior, in a sharp tone.
+
+But Harry was accustomed to his father's abrupt ways and gave no heed to
+the testiness of the query.
+
+"No, Governor, I met Miss Welcome when I was in Millville."
+
+"Oh, yes," hemmed John Boland, truculently unmindful of the introduction.
+"But just now get that contract off; Miss Masters is waiting."
+
+"All right," assented Harry cheerfully. Then he turned to Patience. "I
+won't be long, dear."
+
+Boland placed himself before his desk, covertly watching from beneath his
+shaggy, lowered brows until his son had disappeared. Then he cleared his
+throat and wheeled upon Patience without ceremony.
+
+"Now, listen, Miss Welcome, you're not taking this seriously, I hope."
+
+"No, Mr. Boland," she replied, moving toward the door. "I've tried to
+tell Harry how impossible it is--that--"
+
+"You're a sensible girl," he broke in bluntly. "As it happens, Harry is
+already engaged."
+
+The girl's breath came in short, sharp gasps, but she managed to control
+her voice as she murmured:
+
+"He is?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Boland placed his fingers in his vest pocket and drew out a fountain pen,
+the point of which he examined attentively. Patience felt that she ought
+to go at once, but somehow she couldn't. She stood there trembling,
+scarcely knowing whether or not she should believe the other's statement.
+She could not believe that Harry would do such an ignoble thing.
+
+Boland glanced over his shoulder and saw her still hesitating on the
+threshold.
+
+"Yes," he repeated blandly. "He is going to marry the daughter of my
+business partner--a girl who will inherit half a million."
+
+He could see from the corner of his eye that the shot had told, but still
+Patience lingered, dazed.
+
+"I--I see," she faltered weakly.
+
+"Now you go along like a good girl," advised Boland, "and I'll see that
+you are treated fairly."
+
+He opened a pretentious looking check book which lay on the desk.
+
+"Just tell me how much you want and--"
+
+"Nothing!" was the firm, decisive reply.
+
+He eyed the girl critically as he remarked:
+
+"You look as though ready money were a stranger to you."
+
+"It is--but I have a position with the Mining Company in this building."
+
+"I know them," declared Boland thoughtfully. Patience made no comment.
+She went on proudly, drawing her figure to its full height:
+
+"And I want nothing; I am _giving_ you back your son, Mr. Boland, I am
+not selling him to you."
+
+He shrugged his shoulders and stared stupidly at the vacant doorway as he
+heard the girlish voice in the hallway, saying:
+
+"Down, please."
+
+He closed his check book with a snap, and involuntarily fumbled about his
+well arranged desk, replacing a paper here and a contract there.
+
+"Hum!" he mused, "I thought there was something wrong with Harry."
+
+The desk telephone rang sharply. He picked up the instrument and placed
+the receiver to his ear.
+
+"Hello! hello!" he jerked out irritably. "Yes--yes, this is John Boland.
+Who wants me?"
+
+His acute features contracted as he listened to the reply.
+
+"Oh, Martin Druce," he said. "Want to see me about the lease of the Cafe
+Sinister, eh?"
+
+His mind worked rapidly while he again listened.
+
+"All right," he blustered finally, "all right, see you in fifteen
+minutes. Yes,--yes, here!"
+
+He hung up the receiver and took a cigar from his pocket, thoughtfully
+biting off the end, as he muttered half aloud:
+
+"Martin Druce, eh? Cafe Sinister--Ah!"
+
+His lips ceased moving as he looked about him. He was still thinking
+deeply; then he struck a match and lighted the cigar at the glowing flame
+which he contemplated for a second before extinguishing it. With a look
+of one who has just solved a problem, he cast aside the charred ember and
+gritted:
+
+"I guess so."
+
+He seized a sheet of paper and rapidly scratched a few words on its white
+surface, settling back comfortably in the big chair as Harry came in.
+
+"All right, Governor," called out the son; but he paused in astonishment
+when he saw that his father was alone. "Why--why, where's Patience?"
+
+"Miss Welcome had to go,--she said," returned the other, calmly puffing
+his cigar.
+
+"Didn't she leave any word for me?"
+
+"Yes, she said she'd see you again."
+
+"When?" asked Harry, impatiently. "Why, I don't even know where she
+lives."
+
+"I thought of that," replied his father, as he handed the memorandum slip
+to Harry, on which he had just written. "Here's her address."
+
+Harry took the bit of paper gratefully, and looked at it.
+
+"Why--"
+
+"What's the matter?" John Boland surveyed the wrapper of his cigar with
+keen interest, deftly closing a small broken place in it.
+
+"This address!" exclaimed Harry.
+
+"Well, what about it?"
+
+"It's in the lowest, most depraved section of the city."
+
+"Yes, I noticed that."
+
+Harry looked up at his father quizzically.
+
+"You did?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Governor," began Harry pointedly, a new idea beginning to dawn upon him,
+"if you do not know that a great deal of your property is rented and used
+for the most immoral purposes how do you know this address so well?"
+
+"Why," spluttered Boland, senior, "I--I've read the papers."
+
+"But this vile section of the city that you own has never been
+published."
+
+"Look here, Harry," demanded his father, aggressively, "do you doubt my
+word?"
+
+"I do," was the firm reply.
+
+"I'm your father," he retorted angrily.
+
+"You are," agreed Harry, "but this is a matter of right and wrong, and
+you can't fool me again as you have all these years."
+
+"I'll show you who's master," threatened John Boland, grimly.
+
+"It's your privilege to try," conceded the son with suppressed anger.
+
+"Hold on--hold on," hedged his father, apologetically, "don't let's get
+mad about it. Finish up that contract and then--"
+
+"And then?"
+
+Harry's manner was alert, defensive, but wholly questioning.
+
+"Then we'll talk this over calmly."
+
+"All right, but Governor--" the young man turned at the door, grasping
+the contract in one hand as he put out the other warningly and pointed
+with his forefinger to the scrap of paper he had laid on the desk, on
+which was written Patience's supposed address: "Let me give you a piece
+of advice. Don't try to fool me."
+
+John Boland stood motionless for a moment looking after his son; then he
+clenched his hand and brought it down on the desk with a forcible thump,
+as he thought:
+
+"I've got to do something--quick."
+
+"Well, made up your mind to see me, did you, Mr. Boland?"
+
+Martin Druce's suave voice recalled Boland from the revery into which he
+had lapsed.
+
+"Yes," he replied quickly, walking to the door through which Harry had
+gone and closing it.
+
+"Now, don't talk," he commanded as he returned to his desk. "Listen! You
+and Anson want a renewal of the lease for the Cafe Sinister, don't you?"
+
+"Sure," responded Druce, affably. "And I suppose you'll raise the rent on
+us."
+
+"No," replied Boland, shaking his head.
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"Not if you're smart."
+
+"I don't get you," announced Druce inquiringly, as he seated himself on
+the edge of the desk.
+
+"My boy, Harry, thinks he is in love with a girl who has come to
+Chicago."
+
+"Yes, Mr. Boland, but I don't see--"
+
+"Now," continued Boland, regardless of the interruption, "if Harry
+happened to see this girl in some questionable resort,--say, like Cafe
+Sinister--if he were tipped off that this girl would be there--"
+
+"I get you." Druce sprang to his feet; he was now keen and alert, like a
+hound on the scent. "Who's the girl?"
+
+"She's got a position of some kind with the Alpha Mining Company on this
+floor," replied Boland. "She'll lose that tomorrow."
+
+"I'm on. What's her name?"
+
+"Patience Welcome!"
+
+"What!" exclaimed Druce, with a sneering twist to the word.
+
+"Do you know her?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well?" Boland gazed at him, anxiously awaiting the reply.
+
+"About the lease?" veered Druce with cunning perception.
+
+Boland hesitated and scrutinized the other closely. He was satisfied with
+what he saw stamped on Druce's face, but he only said pointedly:
+
+"I always make good when a man delivers the goods. Now get out--I'm
+busy."
+
+"On my way," returned Druce easily, as he sauntered to the door, but he
+turned there, saying significantly:
+
+"I'll deliver the goods,--don't worry."
+
+John Boland sighed contentedly as he watched Druce go. Then he muttered:
+
+"There, I guess I--"
+
+"All right, Mr. Boland," rang out a clear feminine voice, as Miss Masters
+came from the inner office. "That contract is all ready."
+
+"Oh, Miss Masters!"
+
+"Yes, Mr. Boland," she replied in saccharine tones.
+
+"Make out a lease for that property in South Twelfth street."
+
+"For the Cafe Sinister, John?" inquired Michael Grogan, who had followed
+Miss Masters into the main office. "You're crazy."
+
+"Oh, shut up, Mike," snapped Boland. "What ails you, anyway?"
+
+"I've been reading the last edition," replied Grogan, lugubriously. "Mary
+Randall has had special officers sworn in at her own expense to help her
+make raids. She's put goose flesh all over me."
+
+"Let me see it."
+
+Boland took the paper which Grogan was fingering nervously.
+
+"Take it," said the Irishman. "It's a live coal."
+
+The other glanced over the sheet and threw it on the desk.
+
+"Get busy on that lease, Miss Masters," he commanded.
+
+"Just a moment, Governor," interrupted Harry, who had overheard the
+conversation as he came in. "If you lease that property to that hound,
+Anson, you and I are through."
+
+"What?" exclaimed John Boland, astounded.
+
+"It has come to a show-down," went on Harry, with determination expressed
+in both his tone and manner, "and I'm damned if I'll touch a cent of
+dirty money like that."
+
+"You've been reading the Mary Randall stuff, eh?" sneered his father.
+
+"Yes. And she's right. Now, you make your choice."
+
+"Hold on--hold on," commanded the irate father. "Aren't you forgetting
+that I own and control this Lake City Company--that you are--"
+
+"No! I realize that," retorted Harry, resolutely.
+
+"All right!" Boland turned to Miss Masters grimly: "Make out that lease
+to Anson."
+
+"Then here," said Harry quietly, as he wrote a few words on a sheet of
+blank paper and laid it on the desk; "here is my resignation as president
+of your Electrical Company, to take effect _now_."
+
+"Harry!" protested his father.
+
+"I'll get my personal things together at once," went on the young man,
+securing his hat from the rack.
+
+"This has gone far enough," rasped John Boland, springing to his feet.
+"I'll show this Mary Randall there's one she can't scare."
+
+He paced nervously up and down the office, pausing finally beside his
+desk.
+
+"Miss Masters, take an open letter from me to the newspapers."
+
+He did not notice the actions of the stenographer as he dictated:
+
+"I, John Boland, am a business man. I stand on my record. I defy Miss
+Mary Randall--"
+
+In pausing to formulate his thoughts, he became conscious that Miss
+Masters had not been taking his dictation; that she had laid an envelope
+on his desk directly in front of where he usually sat, and that she was
+putting on her hat.
+
+"Here, hold on!" he cried peremptorily. "What does this mean, Miss
+Masters?"
+
+"It means, Mr. Boland," she replied quietly, as she adjusted a hat pin,
+"that I have resigned. Good day."
+
+When she started to leave Boland called out to her in amazement:
+
+"Here--wait--why do you resign?"
+
+"That letter on the desk will tell you," she said as she moved through
+the doorway. "Good day."
+
+John Boland picked up the letter and opened it. He was dazed as he read
+aloud:
+
+"I refuse to lend my aid to the owners of vice property. Mary Randall."
+
+Boland stared into space, while Harry exclaimed:
+
+"Then Miss Masters is Mary Randall!"
+
+"Murder, alive!" yelled Grogan. He slid down in his chair and attempted
+to conceal himself beneath the desk.
+
+John Boland's hands trembled as he clutched the letter.
+
+"Mary Randall," he said, still dazed. "By all that's holy! That girl Mary
+Randall!"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XVII
+
+                            THE CAFE SINISTER
+
+
+The Cafe Sinister stands like a gilded temple at the entrance to
+Chicago's tenderloin. The fact is significant. The management, the
+appearance, the policy, if you please, of the place are all in keeping
+with this one potent circumstance of location. The Cafe Sinister beckons
+to the passerby. It appeals to him subtly with its music, its cheap
+splendor, its false gayety. To the sophisticated its allurements are
+those of the scarlet woman, to the innocent its voice is the voice of
+Joy.
+
+Two pillars of carved glass, lighted from the inside by electricity,
+stand at the portal. Within a huge room, filled with drinking tables
+sparkling with many lights, gleaming and garish, suggests without
+revealing the enticements of evil.
+
+This is the set trap. Above is that indispensable appurtenance to the
+pander's trade--the private dining room. Above that is what, in the
+infinite courtesy of the police, is called a hotel. And behind and beyond
+lies the Levee itself--naked and unashamed, blatantly vicious, consuming
+itself in the caustic of its own vices.
+
+To the trained observer of cities the words: "All hope abandon, ye who
+enter here," are written as plainly over the door of the Cafe Sinister as
+if it were that other portal through which Dante passed with Beatrice.
+But the unlearned in vice cannot read the writing. By thousands every
+year they enter joyously and by thousands they are cast out into the
+Levee, wrecked in morals, ruined in health, racked by their own
+consciences.
+
+The Cafe Sinister is not an institution peculiar to Chicago. Every great
+city in America possesses one. It is the place through which recruits are
+won to the underworld. It is the entrance to the labyrinth where lost
+souls wander. Viewed from its portal it is the Palace of Pleasure; seen
+from behind, through those haggard eyes from which vice has torn away the
+illusions of innocence, it is the Saddest Place in the World.
+
+Druce owned the Cafe Sinister with Carter Anson; their lease was written
+for them by John Boland. Thus the upper world and the under were leagued
+for its maintenance. And though the press might shriek and the pulpit
+thunder the combination and the Cafe Sinister went on forever.
+
+These three men had been drawn together by a common characteristic. Their
+consciences were dead. That atrophy of conscience made them all
+worshipers of the same idol--money. The motives that propelled each of
+the three to the altar were as diverse as their separate natures, but the
+sacrifice that each offered to the Moloch was the same--their souls.
+
+Having forfeited by their deeds the thing that made them men, the three
+shrunk to the moral stature of animals. Boland was the tiger, brooding
+over the city with yellow eyes, seeking whom he might devour. Druce was
+the wolf; cunning, ruthless, prowling. Anson was the mastiff; savage,
+brutal, given to wild bursts of rending passion. Love of power lashed
+Boland to his crimes; lechery prompted Druce in his prowlings; and whisky
+was the fire that smouldered under Anson's brutalities.
+
+On an afternoon in June Druce and Anson sat together in conference in one
+of the little booths of the Cafe Sinister's main dining room. The cafe,
+after its orgy of the night before, was quiet. Waiters, cat-footed and
+villain faced, gathered up the debris of the night's revel, slinking
+about their work like men ashamed of it. The sunlight peered dimly
+through the curtained windows; the air was heavy with the lees of liquor
+and the dead smoke of tobacco.
+
+The two men sat facing each other. A glass of whisky was cupped in
+Anson's closed hand. His clothes, unbrushed and unpressed, flapped about
+his huge figure. His throat bagged with flabby dewlaps. His head was
+bullet-shaped, his eyes fierce, his mouth loose-lipped and brutal. He
+made a strange contrast to his companion. Druce was lithe, well made and
+gifted with a sort of Satanic handsomeness. He was immaculately dressed.
+
+"It's fixed, I tell you," Druce was saying.
+
+"Fixed, be damned," rumbled Anson. "I know Boland. Nothing's fixed with
+him until the lease is drawn and delivered."
+
+"I say the thing's fixed," insisted Druce. "All we've got to do now is
+carry out our part of the agreement and I've completed all of the
+arrangements. We've got a week."
+
+"I know," said Anson, unconvinced. "It's fixed and you've completed the
+arrangements. I'm from Missouri."
+
+"Boland wants this girl, Patience Welcome, brought in here next Saturday
+night," said Druce. "He has arranged that his pious pup of a son, Harry,
+shall be here the same evening. We are to manage it so that he will get
+the impression that the girl has been amusing herself with him, that she
+has been kidding him along and playing this tenderloin game on the side.
+He's not to be allowed to talk to her. He'll see her--that will be
+enough. She's to come here to help her mother earn a little cash. I sent
+a fellow to hire the old woman to start here on Saturday night as a scrub
+woman. She's agreed to keep that part of it quiet. Then I'll drag the
+other one in--mine, do you understand. We'll make young Boland think the
+whole damned Welcome family belongs to us. We can see to it that the
+Patience girl gets some glad rags and some dope when she gets here. She's
+seen me in Millville, so it's up to you, Anson, to sign her up at good
+pay as a singer--" He stopped significantly.
+
+"Too complicated," was Anson's rejoinder. "Sounds good on paper, but it
+won't work, I tell you, it won't work. I don't like the way things have
+been going lately." He drained the whisky glass. "This vice commission
+and this crazy yap of a Mary Randall--"
+
+"O, hell!" interrupted Druce in disgust. "You've got it, too, have you?
+Mary Randall! My God, you talk like an old woman!"
+
+"I tell you--" Anson began.
+
+"You can't tell me nothing. I'm sick and tired of framing stuff and then
+have you throw it down because you've lost your nerve and are afraid of a
+girl. I'm done, I tell you. If you think you can improve on my plans, go
+ahead. I'm through. I won't--"
+
+Anson capitulated immediately. "Now don't get sore, Mart," he whined, "I
+know I'm no good on this frameup stuff. Maybe I am a little nervous. Go
+ahead with your plan--I guess it's the best one. Don't let's fight about
+it."
+
+"All right," rejoined Druce. "Now that's settled. I'll handle this thing.
+All you've got to do is keep your trap shut and stand pat."
+
+The conversation was interrupted by the angry and maudlin exclamations of
+a girl. She had been sitting at a distant table half asleep. A porter had
+wakened her.
+
+"I won't go home and sleep," she shrieked. "Keep your hands off me, you
+dirty nigger."
+
+"Now what's the trouble?" demanded Druce of Anson.
+
+"Swede Rose has been drunk all night."
+
+"We've got to get rid of her. She's always pulling this rough stuff."
+
+"Not now," warned Anson. "It's too hard to get new girls. When she's
+sober she's a wise money getter."
+
+"Damn her," muttered Druce, "I don't like her anyway. She had the nerve
+to slap my face the other night because I wouldn't give her money for
+hop. As soon as this lease is signed I'm going down state. I'll bring
+back some new stock and then it's 'On your way' for that wildcat."
+
+"Let me handle her," advised Anson. He got up and walked over to the
+table where the girl was having the altercation with the negro. She was
+still young, but drink and drugs had left ineffaceable lines upon her
+face. She was beautiful, even this morning after her night's debauch, for
+she possessed a regularity of feature and a fine contour of figure that
+not even death itself could wreck. Her disheveled hair showed here and
+there traces of gray. Her skin was a dead white, save where two pink
+spots blazed in either cheek.
+
+"Here he comes," called the girl, catching sight of Anson. "Good old
+Carter. Ans," she went on, "chase this coon out of here; he won't let me
+sleep." Anson motioned the porter to keep his distance. "An' say, Ans,"
+the girl went on, "gimme a quarter. I'm broke and I got to have some hop
+or die."
+
+Anson handed the negro a quarter without a word. The porter hurried out
+of the cafe.
+
+"He wanted to chase me out," the girl whimpered.
+
+"Well, Rose," Anson went on pacifically, "you've got to cut out this all
+night booze thing. You're hurting the house."
+
+The girl looked up at the dive keeper with dull eyes.
+
+"Hurting the house, eh?" she echoed. "What about me? Think I ain't
+hurting myself? Say, it's got so I'd rather be drunk than sober. I can't
+stand to be sober. I always start thinking. Some of these days you'll
+hear of me walking out of this place and making a dent in the lake--"
+
+The negro returned with the drug. The girl seized it with trembling
+hands. While the two men stood and looked she drew a small lancet from
+the bosom of her dress, inserted its point under the skin of her white
+forearm and drove a few drops of the drug into the vein. The effect was
+instantaneous. She laughed loudly.
+
+"Now, you get to bed," ordered Anson.
+
+"Bed, hell," retorted the girl.
+
+"I said get to bed." Anson glowered at her.
+
+"There'll be a big night tonight, and--"
+
+"You can't give me no orders."
+
+Anson had held in his temper as long as he was able. His fierce eyes
+twinkled and his brutal mouth twitched. Without a word he reached across
+the table, clutched the girl by the throat and dragged her out of her
+seat. He hurled her, half strangled, on the floor.
+
+"Here," he bellowed to some of his servitors, "take this damn hell-cat
+out of here. Take her up to the hotel. If she won't go to bed, throw her
+into the street."
+
+"You--you--" gasped the girl, struggling to her feet.
+
+"Don't talk back to me," roared Anson, "or I'll kill you. I'll show you
+what you are and who's running this place." Then to the waiters: "Get her
+out of here."
+
+The girl was dragged out of the room, screaming and fighting. A wisp of
+curses came back into the big room as she was lugged up the stairs
+towards the hotel.
+
+Anson stood panting with anger. A mail carrier entered and placed a
+letter in his hand. He opened and read:
+
+"Mr. Carter Anson: Take your choice. Close the Cafe Sinister, or I'll see
+that it is closed. Mary Randall."
+
+The big man flushed crimson with rage. He tried to speak, but the words
+choked in his throat. He crumpled the letter and hurled it with a curse
+across the room.
+
+"Druce," he bellowed.
+
+Druce hurried across the room.
+
+"Did you see that?"
+
+"Yes, I saw you beat her up. Why don't you let 'em alone? You'll kill one
+of them some of these days."
+
+"Naw, not her. I mean the letter. Mary Randall--she says she's going to
+close us." A waiter recovered the letter and brought it to Druce. He read
+it.
+
+"Say, listen, are you turning yellow--"
+
+"No, I ain't yellow," returned Anson, "but this thing is getting my goat.
+You're sure about that lease?"
+
+"Sure?--say, I thought we'd settled that--"
+
+"Well," pursued Anson, "I don't like this. What have you done with this
+other girl--the one you married? She'll be getting us into a row next."
+
+"I married her, didn't I?"
+
+"Yes, but--"
+
+"Well, it's about time she started earning her bread. This Randall woman
+hasn't got me scared. You know why I married her. Well, I'm going through
+with it. I--"
+
+The rest of his sentence died on his lips. A girl scarcely more than a
+child came in from the hotel entrance. She was dressed in a lacey gown, a
+size too large for her. The slit skirt displayed her slim ankles in pink
+silk stockings. The French heeled shoes were decorated with rhinestone
+buckles. In spite of this outrageous dress she was still pretty. It was
+Elsie Welcome.
+
+"Hello, kid," said Druce, his manner changing.
+
+"I want to see you, Martin," Elsie replied. Druce noticed that she seemed
+deeply agitated. There were signs of recently shed tears on her cheeks.
+
+"I'll run along," said Anson, seeing the girl's agitation. When he was
+gone Druce drew the girl into a booth and demanded sharply:
+
+"What the devil do you want and how did you get here?"
+
+"I came in a taxicab," the girl answered.
+
+"A taxi, eh? Well, you're learning. Who paid for it?"
+
+"It isn't paid for, Martin. I wanted to see you and--"
+
+"And what?"
+
+"The man's waiting outside."
+
+Druce flushed angrily. "Look here," he demanded. "Don't play me for a
+boob. Get someone else to pay your taxi bills."
+
+"But, Martin, I thought--"
+
+Druce did not wait for the rest of the sentence. With a muttered oath he
+rushed outside and paid the waiting chauffeur.
+
+"Now, what do you want?" he demanded when he returned.
+
+Elsie looked at him piteously. "Martin," she said, "I can't stay in that
+place any longer."
+
+"Say, don't my aunt treat you all right?"
+
+The girl burst out sobbing. "She isn't your aunt, Martin. She told me so
+herself. And that flat--"
+
+"Well, what about it?"
+
+"I--I can't tell you. I can't say it. I never knew until tonight." Elsie
+clutched Druce's arm pleadingly. "Martin," she said, "a man came into my
+room."
+
+Druce saw that the time had come for him to lay his cards on the table.
+He folded his arms and looked at the girl.
+
+"Well?" he demanded coolly.
+
+"He had been drinking and--he took hold of me."
+
+There was a long pause. Druce gazed at the girl satirically. She quailed
+with sinking heart under that look. She began sobbing again.
+
+"Don't look at me like that, Martin," she wailed. "Don't--or I shall go
+mad. I left home to marry you."
+
+"Well, I married you, didn't I?" Druce sneered.
+
+Elsie attempted to control her voice.
+
+"That woman you call your aunt laughed at me when I told her I was your
+wife. She said I was a country fool."
+
+"Damn her," muttered Druce. "I'll settle with her."
+
+The girl grasped Druce frantically.
+
+"Tell me she lied," she cried, "or I'll go crazy. Tell me she lied."
+
+"Yes, she lied," answered Druce glibly. "See here, kid, it's about time
+you began helping to support the family."
+
+Elsie dried her tears. "I'm--I'm ready," she said. "I've practiced my
+songs--"
+
+"O, the songs," said Druce. "That isn't all."
+
+"What do you mean, Martin?"
+
+"Why--don't be so stand-offish. When a man offers to buy you a bottle of
+wine, let him."
+
+"Martin!"
+
+Druce stopped her sharply. "Now don't begin that Millville Sunday school
+stuff," he said. "This is business."
+
+"Is it?" Elsie spoke in a whisper.
+
+"Sure. When a man's got a wad of bills and he's willing to buy, string
+him along!"
+
+"But I'm your wife, Martin." Elsie was dead white and calm.
+
+"Well, don't let that worry you. Go as far as you like--or as far as he
+likes."
+
+The girl stood motionless, looking straight before her.
+
+"Is--is that what you brought me here for?" she asked with forced
+calmness.
+
+"Sure. Why do you suppose I dressed you up like that? Your stock in trade
+is your good looks. Sell it."
+
+The girl drew herself up rigidly.
+
+"I won't do it," she said. She started toward the door.
+
+"You will!" grated Druce, following her.
+
+"Never," she answered. "I'll die first. Good-by!" The door closed after
+her.
+
+Anson had returned to the room and had witnessed the scene.
+
+"Well," he sneered, "there goes the first move in your plan. You've lost
+that one."
+
+"You think so?" Druce sneered in return. "Well, don't lose any sleep
+worrying about that one. She ain't got a dime. She'll be back."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XVIII
+
+                            LOST IN THE LEVEE
+
+
+So stupefied was Elsie Welcome by her emotions as she fled from the Cafe
+Sinister that it was not until her clothes were drenched that she
+realized it had begun to rain. Even then she did not halt and seek
+shelter. Her numbed brain knew only one thing--that she must get away
+from Druce and the place of sin to which he had brought her.
+
+Up to the time of her last interview with her husband she had been living
+in a dream; now that dream had turned into a nightmare. But the
+nightmare, she at last realized, was reality. The veil of deception Druce
+had woven around her had been torn away by his own brutal words. She had
+come to feel a vague terror of the man. As for the Cafe Sinister, her
+whole nature revolted against it.
+
+It was an hour before sunset. The sullen houses about her were beginning
+to show signs of life. Here and there a door opened and a man or woman
+stepped quickly out with rapid glances up and down the street. There was
+no loitering. They went their way quickly, always with a half furtive
+look over the shoulder.
+
+As the girl reached a corner she found at last that she was too exhausted
+to go farther. Her clothes dripped. She sought an entrance way for
+shelter. A tall girl in a broad hat with showy plumes was just coming out
+of the door. She looked at Elsie's tear stained face and stopped.
+
+"What's the matter, girlie?" There was sympathy in her voice.
+
+"Nothing. Can you tell me where this number is?" She produced a card on
+which Druce's "aunt" at their last interview had written the address of a
+woman from whom she could get work.
+
+The tall girl glanced at the slip of paper.
+
+"It's just over there, two doors from that corner," she said. Elsie
+turned to cross the street. The tall girl stood still regarding her
+thoughtfully. Suddenly she seemed to reach a decision. She darted forward
+and stopped Elsie.
+
+"It's none of my business, kid," she said, "but what do you want of
+Mother Lankee?"
+
+Elsie looked at her in surprise. "Why," she said pitifully, "I expect to
+get work there."
+
+"Do you know the kind of work Mother Lankee would ask you to do?"
+
+"I don't know, but I'm willing to do anything."
+
+"Anything?" repeated the tall girl.
+
+"Why, yes. I've got to the point where I can't afford to be particular."
+
+The tall girl laid her hand on Elsie's arm.
+
+"What is your name?"
+
+"Elsie Welcome."
+
+"Where do you live?"
+
+"On South Tenth street."
+
+"You come from down state?"
+
+"How did you know?"
+
+"It's written all over you. What man brought you here?"
+
+The question surprised Elsie and brought back memory of her sorrows. She
+did not answer. Her eyes filled with tears.
+
+"Come, kid," said the tall girl, cheerfully, "get hold of yourself. Now,
+listen! You stay away from Mother Lankee. You're hungry, ain't you,
+dearie? You come with me and we'll get something to eat."
+
+Elsie was too tired to resist and, instinctively, she trusted this tall
+girl with her assumption of guardianship. Together they crossed the
+street and entered the rear room of a saloon. Three men sat near the
+entrance playing cards. They looked at the two girls, inspecting Elsie
+narrowly and nodding carelessly at her companion. The girl took seats at
+a distant table.
+
+"What do you want, Lou?" inquired one of the men, getting up from the
+table.
+
+"Not you," retorted Lou curtly. "Send one of your waiters here with a
+plain lemonade, a glass of milk and some of that beef stew."
+
+"Milk, eh?" said the man, "and lemonade. On the wagon again, Lou?"
+
+"Run along now," returned the girl. "If you keep on asking questions
+someone is going to tell you lies."
+
+The man went into another room, spoke to someone there and rejoined the
+card players. In a few moments a negro waiter appeared with the viands
+Lou had ordered.
+
+Elsie began to eat famishedly. The other girl watched her approvingly.
+
+"Go to it, girlie," she advised. "I know how you feel. I've been hungry
+myself."
+
+She sipped her lemonade until Elsie had finished. Then, as though it had
+not been interrupted, she resumed the conversation they had begun in the
+street.
+
+"The same old game," she said cynically. "You came to Chicago because you
+loved him. He strung you along--" Her glance fell on Elsie's wedding
+ring. "You fell for that 'I do take thee' thing. Then he shook you. Is
+that right, girlie?"
+
+Elsie shook her head. A stupor due to the food and the reaction from her
+nervous and physical exhaustion came over her. She felt too languid to
+grapple with the problem of existence.
+
+The tall girl arched her eyebrows in surprise.
+
+"He didn't shake you? Then why--"
+
+"I couldn't do what he wanted me to do," murmured Elsie. She felt her
+face flushing and she dropped her head. "He wanted me to--to--"
+
+The other interrupted her sharply. "You needn't say it--I know." She
+gripped the table in sudden anger. "One of these dogs--eh?"
+
+Elsie stared at her blankly. The old sense of forlornness, of being alone
+and uncared for, returned to her.
+
+"I don't know what you mean," she faltered.
+
+"What was his name?"
+
+"Druce," gasped Elsie.
+
+"Druce, eh?" replied the tall girl, as though the name had opened a whole
+vista of understanding. "Druce? Well, look out for him, girlie. He'll
+hound you from one end of the town to the other until he gets you. That's
+his business."
+
+"He always said he was a dealer in live stock."
+
+The tall girl laughed scornfully. "Live stock!" she jeered. "Did he get
+away with that? Well, that's what he is--a dealer in human live stock, a
+trafficker in women, one of the oldest professions in the world--and the
+dirtiest. Live stock! That's what he calls girls like you and
+me--cattle!"
+
+For a long moment Elsie sat staring at her companion. The last prop of
+her faith in the man who had married her was crumbling. She could not
+give up this last illusion of Druce's faithfulness without a struggle.
+The blood flamed to her cheeks and she started to her feet.
+
+"I don't believe it," she cried in anguish.
+
+To her surprise, Lou made no reply. She merely regarded her pityingly.
+This was the last blow. Elsie burst into a flood of tears.
+
+"I know you don't believe it," said Lou gently. "It's hard for anyone who
+is decent to believe that men can fall so low. Why, nobody believes it!
+The men who run the city government don't believe it, the law makers
+don't believe it, the vice commission, doesn't believe it. The only
+people who believe it are the people who, at their own bitter cost, know
+it--and this girl Mary Randall."
+
+She paused.
+
+"Look at me, kid," she went on. "I was sold for $175. Sold, do you get
+that? SOLD! And I came high. They buy and sell 'em in this district every
+day for fifty. Yes, I was prime stock. They brought me up here from
+Kentucky. Kentucky Lou, price $175--a choice article." She broke off,
+laughing bitterly, and summoned a waiter.
+
+"Whisky," she said, "and be quick with it."
+
+She waited until the waiter returned without speaking. Then she tossed
+off the glass of fiery liquid like a man.
+
+"Now," she said, resuming the conversation abruptly, "let me tell you
+what you are up against. You can't go home, your pride won't let you. And
+if you wanted to go home you haven't the money. Druce has turned you
+loose in this district to starve and when you've starved enough you'll
+come back to him."
+
+Elsie shook her head.
+
+"Yes, you will, girlie. You don't know it now, but I know it and Druce
+knows it. And when you come back you'll do as Druce wants you to do,
+because you'll know that if you don't you'll have to starve again. It's
+against human nature to starve. You'll go back to him. And when you do
+and Druce is tired of you he'll sell you for what you are, cattle--his
+kind of cattle!"
+
+"Oh no!" wailed Elsie. "Not that. Surely in this great city there are
+places where a friendless girl can find protection!"
+
+Kentucky Lou laughed again but the laugh contained no mirth.
+
+"I thought that too, kid," she said more gently. "And perhaps--perhaps--if
+you could find the right people and they believed you they might help you.
+But they didn't help me. I went to one of these institutions that
+advertise to help friendless girls. Yes, I went to them. I had my baby in
+my arms. And they began by shooting me full of questions that I'd rather
+die than answer. And me perishing for a kind word and a slap on the
+back--just something to keep me fighting to be good. They gave me tracts,
+and sermons and advice. And then my baby died and I didn't care what
+happened. I guess I went crazy after that. 'It's hell, anyway,' I says,
+'so here goes.' And here I am."
+
+While she spoke Kentucky Lou was fumbling with her dress. Her hand
+reappeared in a moment with a five dollar bill. She shoved the bill into
+Elsie's hand.
+
+"Take that," she said, "and go. Go as far as you can. It's all I can do
+for you and it may save you. I think you'll come back to Druce but I'm
+taking a gambler's chance."
+
+She took Elsie by the arm, half lifted the stupefied girl to her feet and
+led her to the door. Impelled by a terror which both blinded and choked
+her Elsie fled into the gathering darkness without even pausing to thank
+her benefactor.
+
+Lou returned to the saloon and ordered more whisky.
+
+"Lou," inquired one of the men, "who's you're friend?"
+
+Lou regarded the questioner calmly.
+
+"That?" she replied, "Oh, that's a little lost lamb turned loose in a den
+of you human hyenas."
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XIX
+
+                MARY RANDALL GOES TO LIVE IN A WOLF'S DEN
+
+
+Martin Druce, still pacing uneasily; about the big drinking room of the
+Cafe Sinister after his angry parting with Elsie Welcome, looked up
+suddenly and saw the street door open. He stood still staring. The new
+arrival was Mary Randall. She wore a smart tailored suit and a modish
+hat. Druce noted these details of costume, the shining bronze hair, the
+fresh complexion and the trim figure. He gasped with surprise.
+
+Druce's surprise was not due to any recognition of his visitor as the
+reformer. To him Mary Randall was still Miss Masters, for he had heard
+nothing of the episode in John Boland's office when the electric king's
+private secretary revealed her true identity. His astonishment was
+predicated upon the fact that this stenographer, after having thwarted
+and flouted him, after having seemed to read the darkest secrets of his
+plotting mind, should now walk in upon him with all the easy composure of
+an old friend.
+
+Then he had read the girl wrong after all! She was, as he had at first
+suspected, of the demi-monde. Thus her sophistication, the ease with
+which she had penetrated his pretensions, the cool finality with which
+she had catalogued and placed him, were all explainable. Her worldly
+wisdom, which he had found so baffling, was that of the skilled and
+experienced adventuress!
+
+These reflections swept through his mind in a moment. Another thought
+came to him that filled him with rage. She was here now to resume her
+play with him. But rage gave way to desire. His mind instantly busied
+itself with new intrigues. Here was a woman much to be desired. She had
+come hunting amusement at his expense. She delivered herself into his
+hands; she laughed at his power. And she seemed confident of beating him.
+This was a game that filled him with delight. He sprang forward eagerly
+to greet her, bowing gallantly, and doffing his hat.
+
+"How do you do, Mr. Druce?" inquired Miss Masters. "You seem surprised to
+see me here."
+
+Druce caught something mocking in her tone. "I'm more than surprised," he
+returned. "I'm tickled pink. Won't you have a seat?" He prepared a place
+for her at one of the booths. "And can't I order you something to drink?"
+
+Miss Masters favored Druce with one of her enigmatical smiles. "It's a
+little early for wine," she said, "and too late for highballs. Besides,
+business before pleasure. I want to talk to you."
+
+Druce sat down, expectantly.
+
+"I've come here, Mr. Druce," Miss Masters went on, "not merely to make a
+social call, as you seem to take for granted, but as John Boland's agent.
+He has instructed me to take up the matter of your new lease with you. I
+am to handle the whole transaction in his name. The only stipulation that
+he makes is that you are not to communicate with him again. He wants you
+to stay away from his office, because he has learned within the last few
+hours that the office is being watched by agents of this girl reformer,
+Mary Randall. He has instructed me to tell you not to attempt to see him
+or to telephone him until your negotiations with me are concluded."
+
+Druce was disappointed.
+
+"Why," he said, "I thought the matter of the lease was settled. Boland
+told me plainly when I last talked with him that if I would arrange to
+have Patience Welcome here on Saturday night so that Harry Boland could
+see her he would give me a new lease with no increase in rental."
+
+"I understand," replied Miss Masters to whom this was news. "The idea of
+arranging this meeting is, I am informed, to convince Harry that the girl
+has been playing with him--that she is one of your employes."
+
+"That's it," replied Druce. "I've made all the plans and the girl will be
+here on Saturday night. I've arranged to have her mother here, too. And
+to make it good I expect to bring in the other sister--the girl Elsie--at
+the last moment. Young Boland will believe that the whole Welcome family
+is working for me."
+
+"I see," said Miss Masters. "It's a pretty smooth scheme, but Mr. Boland
+thinks it's rather too daring. That's why he's sent me here, to see that
+nothing goes wrong. You are to give me all the details of your plans and
+through me Mr. Boland is to be kept informed as to what is going on."
+
+"Well, he's a deep one," said Druce. "I don't like his introducing a
+third party into my plans very well, but I guess I've got to take it.
+I've got to have that lease."
+
+"Yes," replied Miss Masters, "that's the way John Boland has it figured
+out."
+
+"Say, girlie," Druce went on, assuming a confidential air, "Old Boland
+sure must have a lot of confidence in you."
+
+Again Miss Masters smiled enigmatically. "Yes," she admitted, "Mr. Boland
+has reason to know I can take care of myself in nearly every situation."
+
+"I'm beginning to think you're as deep as Boland is."
+
+"Yes?" Miss Masters tantalized him with another of her smiles. "Now," she
+went on, "tell me about this. You say you're going to have the other
+Welcome girl here. How do you expect to arrange that?"
+
+Druce grinned triumphantly. "That's dead easy," he said. "You see I'm
+married to her." He had expected to startle Miss Masters with this
+information, but he was disappointed. She merely arched her brows
+slightly. "Then you marry them, do you?" "Yes, when I have to. It's the
+easiest way." "Then this girl--Elsie--is living in your--a--a--hotel?"
+
+"No," replied Druce hesitatingly, "she's gone away." Then he added
+quickly, "but she'll be back."
+
+"Gone away? I don't understand." "Oh, we had a family row this morning. I
+told her that if she wanted to get along in Chicago she'd have to discard
+her Millville morals and be a good fellow. She's squeamish. I let her
+understand that she'd have to--"
+
+"I see," said Miss Masters. "She thought that, because she was your wife
+she wouldn't have to drink with the patrons in your cafe. When you told
+her she'd have to, she got angry and walked out. Is that it?"
+
+"You're wise," replied Druce admiringly.
+
+"You say she'll be back. How do you know that?"
+
+"I know it, because she hasn't got a dime. With her it's a case of coming
+back or starving to death in the Levee, and I know enough about her to be
+sure she'll be back. She can't get away from me."
+
+"And the other girl, Patience?"
+
+"She thinks this is a sort of a music hall. She's coming here with her
+mother Saturday night. Before she discovers that this place isn't exactly
+what she believes it is, Harry Boland will see her up there on the stand
+with the rest of my talent. I'll get the girl out of the place before he
+can talk to her. That will put the kibosh on their love affair."
+
+"What do you expect to do with these girls afterward?"
+
+"Oh, we have facilities here"--Druce's smile was evil--"for breaking 'em
+in. Afterward--well, I don't know. It may be dangerous to keep them
+around Chicago. I can get a good price for them." He laughed. "You know
+I'm a dealer in live stock."
+
+"Yes, yes, you expect to sell them. That's not a bad idea."
+
+"Now look here, kid," said Druce, "you've asked me a lot of questions and
+got fair answers. It's a poor game that can't be played both ways. I want
+to know something about you."
+
+Miss Masters curled herself up comfortably in a corner of the booth. She
+looked challengingly at Druce.
+
+"Shoot," she said.
+
+"Now, who are you?"
+
+"You know my name. It's Masters."
+
+"I don't mean that. What are you?"
+
+Miss Masters replied quickly, "I--why--I'm a girl, and--you say yourself
+I'm wise."
+
+"You don't have to tell me that. Where did you come from? Where did
+Boland get you?"
+
+"Before I went to work for Boland I was in St. Louis."
+
+"What did you do there?"
+
+"Oh, I shan't answer that question--yet."
+
+"Well, you seem to know a great deal about the kind of business I'm in.
+Where did you get your information?"
+
+"Picked it up."
+
+"In St. Louis?"
+
+"Yes, I learned some things there."
+
+"Have you ever been in this business?"
+
+"What business?"
+
+"Well, this cafe business--and the rest of it."
+
+"You say I know a good deal about it."
+
+"Yes, you know a lot about it. And you've got your information from the
+inside. And Boland knows you know a lot about it. Otherwise he wouldn't
+have sent you down here."
+
+"Yes?" Miss Masters was silent for a moment. "Druce," she went on, "did
+you ever hear of the Broughton Club?"
+
+"Sure, that swell joint in St. Louis?"
+
+"Yes. Well, I'm interested in it."
+
+"As owner?"
+
+"Never mind about that. I'm interested in it and one of my reasons for
+calling on you is to get some girls for the club."
+
+"You want to buy some girls?"
+
+"You said it."
+
+"From me?"
+
+"From you, if I can get the right figures. If I can't, I'll try
+elsewhere. You're not the only 'dealer in live stock' in the Levee."
+
+"I'll make the figures right."
+
+"I'm interested in this place."
+
+"In the Cafe Sinister?"
+
+"Yes, I want to know something about your methods. We don't know it all
+in St. Louis. I think I can pick up a little information here. I'm going
+back to St. Louis in a month. I want to take some girls back with me, and
+I'd like to find out just how a first class joint like the Cafe Sinister
+is operated in Chicago."
+
+"Is this a proposition?"
+
+"Yes, it's a proposition."
+
+"All right. Go on."
+
+"I want to live at the Cafe Sinister during the week our deal for the
+lease is on. I'll take rooms in your--a--hotel, upstairs.
+
+"And I'll be around the cafe, and making myself at home generally," added
+Miss Masters, reassuringly.
+
+"Go as far as you like," answered Druce, "and if you need a body guard,"
+he added, with a knowing wink, "why, you know me."
+
+Miss Masters' eyes narrowed. "I told you I could look out for myself,"
+she answered.
+
+"You'll have to look out for yourself," retorted Druce significantly.
+
+"Let me do the worrying about that."
+
+Druce was silent. He had determined to accept Miss Masters' offer. He
+felt that she was walking into his trap and yet, so great had grown his
+respect for her that he did not know his next move.
+
+"I'll have a suite prepared for you," he said.
+
+"That's settled, then."
+
+Miss Masters got up from her seat. As she did so Druce attempted a
+caress. "I'm going to collect part of the rent in advance," he said.
+
+"Are you?" Miss Masters pushed him away sharply. He did not repeat his
+indiscretion. Instead he stood back respectfully to let her pass. In the
+palm of her hand with the muzzle pointing firmly in his direction he saw
+a small, steel-blue magazine pistol. The girl's finger was on the
+trigger.
+
+"If you'll have one of your servants show me the suite," said Miss
+Masters, "I'll telephone for my maid."
+
+Then she added, seemingly as an afterthought,
+
+"I never pay the rent, Mr. Druce, until the end of the week."
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XX
+
+                   DRUCE SIGNS A SIGNIFICANT DOCUMENT
+
+
+Mary Randall realized that she was playing a dangerous game. She had
+placed herself in Druce's power because taking that risk had seemed to
+her the best way to gather evidence against the Cafe Sinister. She had
+not acted without laying her plans carefully. Her whole campaign for the
+week that she was to be in Druce's dive had been mapped out before she
+set foot so unexpectedly inside his door.
+
+The girl depended upon two things for protection. First was Druce's fear
+of the power of John Boland. She believed that the man would not dare to
+use physical violence against her if he thought she was what she had
+represented herself to be--John Boland's agent. Second was his desire for
+a renewal of the lease to the cafe. Mary was confident that Druce would
+plot against her but she was equally sure he would not move until after
+the lease had been signed. If both these protections failed, she still
+had her magazine pistol. And she knew how to use it.
+
+In coming into Druce's place she had deliberately counted on the
+ascendancy which she knew her beauty and her air of mystery had obtained
+over him. She was playing the pander at his own game. It was an extremely
+dangerous game but she believed she could beat him. And the results would
+be worth the risk.
+
+Meanwhile her greatest anxiety was to prevent Druce from communicating in
+any way with John Boland. If Druce should learn through Boland that he
+had not delegated her to negotiate the lease, that she was in fact Mary
+Randall, then she would be face to face with a fight for her life. But
+she was quite sure that Druce would not communicate with Boland. She knew
+the workings of Boland's office well enough to understand how difficult
+it was for Druce to get a word with the master of the Electric Trust and
+as a special precaution she had put an inhibition upon him not to call at
+or telephone to the office. Finally, before she had quite finished with
+Boland, she had arranged with his telephone operator that no calls from
+Druce should be put on John Boland's wire.
+
+Mary's first move after she had been shown to her suite was to telephone
+to Anna, her maid, whom she had left nearby before making her visit to
+the cafe. Anna arrived in a short time with a porter carrying a couple of
+heavy suit cases.
+
+When the two girls were at last alone in their rooms they began preparing
+for their week's stay by making a thorough examination of the locks on
+the doors. They found them secure. Then, closing the keyholes, they
+proceeded to unpack the suit cases. Out of them they took, besides
+various articles of apparel, a complete dictagraph apparatus. The
+transmitter was hidden under a mat on a table in the reception room that
+formed part of the suite. The wires were carried down the leg of the
+table and under the carpets to a small closet; there Anna installed a
+small table, a pocket electric light and her stenographer's notebook. A
+small camera was hidden in one of the window curtains. It was focused so
+as to take in the space surrounding the table in the reception room. When
+one of the curtains was raised the plate was automatically exposed and
+the raising of the curtain at the same time let enough light into the
+room to take an excellent picture.
+
+With these arrangements completed, Mary began a tour of the cafe
+building. She found Druce eager to serve her. By him she was guided to
+every part of the place, meeting the people she wanted to know and
+learning all of the details of the infamous business in which Druce,
+Anson and Boland were jointly embarked. For three days she went about
+these tours of inspection undisturbed. In the evenings she had the women
+habitues of the place in her rooms, talking to them as if she were one of
+their own kind and learning from them the squalid stories of their
+downfall and the part Druce and Anson had played in it. Anna was not in
+sight during any of these interviews. She was seated at the little table
+with the dictagraph at her ear, her fountain pen in her hand and her
+stenographer's notebook before her. Nothing that was said escaped her.
+
+Meanwhile Druce was having an unpleasant time with Anson. He had tried at
+first to keep from him the fact of Miss Masters' residence in their
+"hotel." "The mastiff," however, was not long deceived. When he
+confronted Druce with what he had learned, Druce with an assumption of
+frankness told him of his interview with Miss Masters and attempted to
+reassure him.
+
+Anson, however, was by nature suspicious. "I don't like it," he snarled.
+"You've let a spy into the house."
+
+Druce tried at first to argue with him. Then he grew angry. Finally he
+turned on his partner.
+
+"You mind your own business," he advised him, white with rage. "I'll
+manage this thing. The girl's mine. I'm going to have her. Keep away from
+her. By God, if you interfere with my schemes I'll kill you."
+
+Anson was not terrified by this threat. He knew that in any physical
+encounter he was more than a match for the slender Druce. But he feared
+to quarrel with his partner. He was too appreciative of Druce's value to
+him and their enterprise to want to lose him. He growled a smothered
+string of curses, but Druce had his way.
+
+Druce had become so much infatuated with Miss Masters that he had thrown
+caution to the winds. Never before in his life had he been under the
+influence of any woman. Now that such an influence had seized him he was
+overwhelmed by it. He had arrived perilously close to the point where, if
+he had known the true character of the woman he was sheltering, his
+infatuation would have led him to risk the danger merely to have her near
+him. His thoughts were on her constantly, his mind busy during every
+waking hour on schemes for, entrapping her.
+
+Mary had taken up her abode in the Cafe Sinister on Monday. On Thursday
+she sent for Druce. He came to her suite eagerly.
+
+He found Miss Masters sitting at the table in the reception room. He sat
+down opposite her and facing the window at her invitation.
+
+"Druce," said the girl, "I've sent for you because I want to close that
+deal for the girls I spoke to you about."
+
+"The girls you're going to take back to St. Louis?"
+
+"Yes, I'll want five or six."
+
+"You've been looking over my stock?" said Druce with a leer.
+
+"Yes," replied Miss Masters, concealing her repulsion.
+
+"Well, I guess we can come to terms. Who do you want?"
+
+"I only care for four of the girls I have seen," replied Miss Masters. "I
+want that little girl, Maida, the blonde girl you call Luella, Clara, and
+that young brunette, Esther."
+
+"Gee," said Druce, "you don't want much, do you? Why those are the
+youngest and prettiest girls we've got in the place. That Luella has only
+been in the district three weeks. All the rest of them are new ones."
+
+"I know it. That's why I want them."
+
+"They'll cost you money."
+
+"I expect to pay money for them."
+
+"I want $200 apiece for those four girls." The price was high. Druce
+thought Miss Masters would reject it.
+
+"Very well," returned Miss Masters. "That will be $800."
+
+"You're willing to pay it?"
+
+"Yes. I'm going to spend $1,000 with you."
+
+"Four ain't enough?"
+
+"No, I'm going to take two more, if I can get them. You say you expect to
+have these Welcome sisters?"
+
+"Sure, I'll have them."
+
+"Well, you told me you didn't want to run the risk of keeping them around
+Chicago. I'll take them off your hands."
+
+"You expect to get them for $200?"
+
+"Certainly. You don't know yet that you can deliver. Has the one you
+married come back?"
+
+"Oh, I'll deliver."
+
+"I'm not as sure of that as you are, but I'm willing to speculate on it.
+I'll make you this proposition. I'll write you a check for $1,000 and
+take my chance on you delivering the six girls I name."
+
+"No checks go," said Druce.
+
+"You'll have to take a check if you do business with me."
+
+Druce considered. He wanted the $1,000. He did not want to quarrel with
+Miss Masters. He capitulated.
+
+"Write the check," he said.
+
+Miss Masters took a check-book from a drawer and drew a check, payable to
+Druce. She handed it to him. He looked at the paper doubtfully.
+
+"I'll have to indorse that," he said.
+
+Miss Masters laughed.
+
+"Certainly," she said, "you'll have to indorse it unless you want to keep
+it as a souvenir." She smiled at him. "Druce," she said, "you'll never
+get along in this business if you're a coward."
+
+"It's direct evidence against me."
+
+"You don't trust me?"
+
+"All right, girlie. I'll trust you." He folded the check and put it in
+his pocket.
+
+"Now, we'll have to have a bit of writing."
+
+"No writing for mine," retorted Druce. "This check is plenty."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Druce," Miss Masters spoke appealingly. "You don't think that's
+fair, do you? You've got my check."
+
+"I guess it's you that's not trusting me now," said Druce.
+
+"But you admit yourself that you may not deliver."
+
+"No I don't. I will deliver."
+
+"But this isn't business."
+
+"It's the way we do this kind of business in Chi."
+
+Miss Masters got up from the table, as if exasperated.
+
+"Look here, Mr. Druce," she said. "How can signing an agreement covering
+this sale hurt you? Oh, what a lot of cowards you 'live stock dealers'
+are! Can't you see that if you sign this agreement with me I'm
+incriminated as well as you are? The Mann act gets the buyer as well as
+the seller."
+
+"Well, what's the agreement?"
+
+"It says simply this: 'In consideration of $1,000 I agree to deliver two
+days from date the following girls'--I'll write in their names--'to Miss
+Masters.'"
+
+"You're not trying to put anything over?"
+
+"Did it ever strike you that by selling these girls to me you'd have John
+Boland where you wanted him?"
+
+"Boland?"
+
+"I'm his agent."
+
+"All right." Druce snatched up the paper and read it. "Write in the
+names." Miss Masters wrote the names of six girls into the document. She
+handed it back to Druce and picked up a pen.
+
+"Just a moment," she said, giving him the pen. "It's dark here. I'll
+raise the curtain."
+
+She stepped quickly across the room and adjusted the curtain so that the
+sunlight fell full across Druce as he signed his name to the agreement.
+As he finished the last stroke he heard a faint "click."
+
+"What was that?" he demanded anxiously.
+
+"The curtain caught on the window latch," replied Miss Masters. She
+picked up the agreement and blotted the signature. "Thank you," she said,
+"now I've got something for my $1,000."
+
+Druce laughed uneasily. The maid, Anna, entered from an adjoining
+apartment. Druce realized uncomfortably that the interview was over.
+
+"Well," he said, going to the door and smiling sentimentally at Miss
+Masters, "so long. See you later."
+
+"Yes," replied Miss Masters in a tone he didn't just like, "I'll see you
+later."
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XXI
+
+                       DRUCE PROVES A TRUE PROPHET
+
+
+Saturday night begins at the Cafe Sinister at nine o'clock. At that hour
+the twin columns of glass at its portal are lighted and the Levee pours
+the first of its revelers into the spacious ground floor drinking room.
+The orchestra strikes up the first of its syncopated melodies; the
+barkeepers arrange their polished glasses in glittering rows; the
+waiters, soft-footed and watchful, take their places at their appointed
+stations.
+
+The revelers come in an order regulated by inexorable circumstance. In
+the van are the women with the professional escorts, haggard creatures
+who have served their time in the district and who are on the brink of
+that oblivion which means starvation and slow death. Youth and health
+have flown and now no paint nor cosmetic can cloak their real character.
+They must come early because their need of money is bitter and a watchful
+eye for opportunity must take the place of the physical allurement that
+once made life in the tenderloin so easy. They sink into their seats and
+wait, contemptuous of their escorts, and yet pitifully dependent upon
+them. For without the escorts they cannot enter the Cafe Sinister. That
+is a tribute which the rulers of the tenderloin, through them, pays
+tribute to the majesty of the law.
+
+A group of hardened rounders follows. These are men to whom the Cafe
+Sinister and the district have become a habit. They bring with them women
+of their own kind--women who, through years of dissipation, have still,
+like misers, managed to hoard some trace of bloom. They drink deeply, for
+the men are spenders. The wine flows free and the talk grows loud.
+Occasionally a man quarrels profanely with his companion and a
+soft-footed waiter with a thug's face whispers him to sullen silence.
+
+An hour flies by. Now the Levee, roused from its sodden, day-long
+slumber, is wide awake. The way between the twin pillars at the Cafe
+Sinister's entrance is choked with the flood of merry-makers. These
+newcomers are not so easy to classify as their predecessors. They are the
+crowd from the street,--the thief with his girl pal, eager to spend the
+plunder of their last successful exploit; the big corporation's
+entertainer, out to show a party of country customers the sights of a
+great city; the visitor from afar, lonely and seeking excitement; the man
+about town, the respectable woman who with a trusted male confidant seeks
+shady and clandestine amusement; college students with unspoiled
+appetites off for a lark; women of the district still new enough to the
+life of vice to find pleasure in its excitements; periodical drinkers out
+for a night of it; clerks, cashiers, bookkeepers, schoolboys and roues.
+
+And here and there, weaving in and out through this heterogeneous mob
+lurks the pander seeking for his prey--the ignorant young girl, trembling
+on the verge of her first step into the depths, the little lost sister of
+tomorrow.
+
+By ten o'clock the merry making in the Cafe Sinister had attained the
+vociferousness of a riot. As the swift-footed waiters passed more and
+more liquor about, the voices of the speakers rose higher and higher. At
+last the orchestra itself could scarcely be heard. The singers, half
+maudlin themselves, and knowing they could not be heard above the
+universal din, abandoned harmony and resorted to shouts and suggestive
+gyrations. A woman fell helplessly into the arms of her escort who,
+gloating, winked knowingly at a male companion. Another drunkenly
+attempted to dance and was restrained by the waiters. An elderly
+reprobate, convoying two unsteady young girls, importuned Druce for one
+of his private dining rooms.
+
+Druce and Anson watched over the revelers and directed the entertainers.
+"The Mastiff," comfortably full of his favorite liquor, whisky, glowered
+on the crowd with as near an aspect of good nature as he was able to
+muster. Druce, who knew his own success in business was due to alertness
+of mind and who was almost an ascetic in the matter of drink, was no less
+at peace with the world.
+
+"Money in that crowd," rumbled the huge Anson.
+
+"Yes," replied Druce, "business is mighty good."
+
+"How about our lease?"
+
+"The blow-off comes tonight."
+
+"You're sure of your plans?"
+
+"I am, if young Boland shows up."
+
+"Well, he'll be here?"
+
+"Yes, I wrote him an anonymous letter telling him if he wanted to see his
+girl, he could find her singing at the Cafe Sinister."
+
+"That ought to fetch him. How about the old man?"
+
+"He sent me word today that he'd be here and that he'd dropped hints to
+the son he'd heard some bad stuff about the girl."
+
+"You haven't talked to him?"
+
+"No; I got my orders. I stayed away."
+
+"How about the Welcome kid you married?"
+
+"She's down and out. I sent one of our cappers early in the week to look
+her up. Somebody'd slipped her a lone five dollar bill. She woke up
+yesterday morning broke. I don't know where she's eating, but I've sent
+word through the district to keep her hungry. She'll be in tonight."
+
+Druce spoke with indifference, but the truth was that he was not at all
+sure that Elsie Welcome would return. He had begun to respect the girl's
+strength of character. He had scarcely finished his sentence when he gave
+a gasp of relief.
+
+"Ah-h!" he muttered.
+
+"What's that?" demanded Anson.
+
+"Here she comes now."
+
+As they looked down through the drinking room they saw the slender figure
+of a girl approaching. She came slowly, supporting her wavering steps
+with the backs of the revelers' chairs. Her face was pale and desperately
+haggard. Several of the men as she passed clutched at her skirts and
+shouted invitations at her. She tore herself away from them and made
+straight for the place where Druce and Anson were standing. For a moment,
+Druce almost felt sorry for her.
+
+"You're back, kid?" he said softly.
+
+"Yes," replied the girl, fiercely.
+
+"You're going to be good?"
+
+Elsie burst out sobbing. It was her last struggle.
+
+"Come now, Elsie," Druce spoke almost tenderly. "Don't snivel."
+
+"Martin," the girl gasped appealingly. "O, my God! Be kind to me."
+
+"Don't worry about me, girlie. You forget that Sunday school stuff and
+you'll get along with me fine. You're hungry, aren't you, kid?"
+
+"I'm starving," replied the girl.
+
+"Come with me. I'll have the chef get you a big feed. After that I want
+you to come back and do what I tell you. I won't be hard on you, kid.
+You'll not have to work tonight. All I'll want you to do is sit up on the
+stand with my other entertainers."
+
+Elsie was too broken in spirit to reply. She followed her master dumbly.
+He led her to one of his small private dining rooms, arranged a seat for
+her and turned on the lights. Then he went back to the kitchen to order
+the girl's meal.
+
+After Druce had left, Elsie folded her arms on the table and cushioning
+her head on them, began to weep softly. Druce returned with the food,
+kissed her to take the sting from the feed, which both he and she knew
+was the price of her shame, and left her. The girl ate ravenously.
+Afterward she fell into an uneasy slumber against the cushions of the
+booth.
+
+She was awakened by someone entering the room. Looking up, she saw the
+bowed figure and gray hair of an elderly woman. The intruder carried a
+bucket of hot water in one hand and a mop in the other. She had come into
+the booth thinking it unoccupied, and did not see Elsie until she was
+very close to her.
+
+"I beg your pardon," she said, dropping her mop and bucket and starting
+back.
+
+Elsie stared at her. Then she stood up, her face pale as death, her eyes
+starting like the eyes of one who has seen a vision.
+
+"Mother!" she screamed. "Oh, God! Mother!" and flung herself into her
+mother's arms.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXII
+
+                         "THE MILLS OF THE GODS"
+
+
+After Druce left Elsie he went back to his favorite station behind the
+musicians' stand. He had been there only a moment when he saw the elder
+Boland enter. Boland came in quietly through a side door and stood
+looking about inquiringly.
+
+Druce silently summoned a waiter and sent him to Boland with a message. A
+little later the two men were in Druce's private office alone and the
+door was closed. They sat down at a table.
+
+"Well," said Druce, "I see you're on time."
+
+"Yes," replied Boland coldly. "I make it a point to keep my engagements.
+Your arrangements are complete, I suppose. I haven't heard a word from
+you all week."
+
+There was a petulance in his tone the reason for which Druce did not
+comprehend.
+
+"It's going to work out all right. One of the Welcome girls is here now.
+I'm expecting the other." He pushed an electric button. A waiter
+appeared.
+
+"Go out and ask the professor if that new entertainer I'm expecting has
+arrived," he ordered.
+
+The waiter was gone but a few seconds.
+
+"She's come," he reported. "She's up on the stand and will go on right
+after the intermission."
+
+"That's her," said Druce to Boland. The waiter vanished.
+
+"Good," said Boland. "Druce," he went on, "I'm pleased with the way
+you've handled this. Here's something to prove it." He took a document
+from his breast pocket and passed it across the table. It was the lease.
+
+"Thanks," said Druce, keenly pleased by an inspection of the papers,
+"that looks good to me."
+
+"It's yours," returned Boland, "but of course I expect you to carry out
+your part of the contract."
+
+"How about Harry?"
+
+"No need to worry about that. He'll be here."
+
+"Well, we're waiting on him."
+
+There was a pause. Neither man seemed to know how to continue the
+conversation. Druce broke the silence.
+
+"Boland," he asked, "what have you got against this girl?"
+
+Boland resented the question, but was compelled to answer.
+
+"She wants to marry my son. I don't think she's fit to marry him. If she
+were, she wouldn't be in a place like this."
+
+Druce laughed unpleasantly.
+
+"You know very well," he replied, "that she wouldn't be here if I hadn't
+managed it for you."
+
+Boland made no reply for this. Druce went on.
+
+"Tell me," he demanded, "on the square, now, is that all you've got
+against this girl?"
+
+"Just what do you mean by that, Druce?" demanded Boland, eying him
+calmly.
+
+"Didn't you know the Welcomes before this girl came into your son's
+life?"
+
+Boland turned very pale.
+
+"That's an idiotic question," he answered. "How would a man in my
+position know people like the Welcomes?"
+
+"When I was in Millville," replied Druce evenly, "I heard a good deal
+about old Tom Welcome. It seems that someone stole an invention from
+him."
+
+"Just why should I be interested in that story?"
+
+"I don't know," replied Druce. "It just struck me that you might be.
+There was no harm in asking, was there?"
+
+Boland ignored the question.
+
+"Look here," he said, changing the subject, "suppose you get this lease
+from me, are you sure you can continue doing business as you are without
+police interference?"
+
+Druce laughed and picked up the receiver of the telephone which stood on
+the table. There was an attachment that enabled Boland to hear at the
+same time. He handed the second receiver to the master of the Electric
+Trust.
+
+"What's the idea?" inquired Boland.
+
+"I'm just going to answer your question."
+
+He called for a number.
+
+"That's police station R," said Boland.
+
+"I know," replied Druce, "just listen."
+
+"Hello," he said presently, "is this you, Cap?"
+
+Boland heard a familiar voice answer affirmatively.
+
+"This is Druce talking," the dive-owner went on, "Druce of the Cafe
+Sinister. Say, we'll be open all night tonight. Don't make any trouble
+for us, you understand. Just let your fellows know that they're not to
+hear anything that goes on in this beat. I'll send McEdwards around in
+the morning with a special envelope for you. Get me?"
+
+Druce cut off the two telephones.
+
+"Well," he asked triumphantly, "what do you think of that?"
+
+Boland laughed cynically.
+
+"Rather good," he answered. "I know your friend, the captain. The fact
+is, I know him rather well. We belong to the same church." He chuckled
+over his own joke. "However," he went on, "I didn't come here to be
+entertained, nor to be initiated into the mysteries of the police
+department. Let's get down to business. I've got to get out of town
+tonight. I'm going to 'Frisco."
+
+"To 'Frisco?"
+
+"Yes, I'm in a mess. Mary Randall--"
+
+"Randall! Boland, don't tell me you're scared of that woman, too."
+
+"Man alive, haven't you heard? She got into my office in disguise and
+stole a lot of my papers. I don't know just yet what she's got, but I've
+decided to hunt seclusion for a while."
+
+"She was disguised?"
+
+"Yes, she came into my office as private secretary. I trusted her
+implicitly. You'll remember her. She gave the name of Miss Masters."
+
+Druce stood up with an exclamation. His face had gone white and he
+clutched at the table for support. Boland stared at him in astonishment.
+
+"What's hit you?" he demanded.
+
+Druce made no reply. Through his mind was passing the panorama of how he
+had delivered himself bound hand and foot to the girl he thought he was
+entrapping. Suddenly, he turned and dashed in a frenzy out of the room.
+He was bound, with murder in his heart, for Miss Masters' suite.
+
+As he came tearing out of the office he found himself suddenly seized and
+halted.
+
+"Let me go," screamed Druce, "damn you, let me go."
+
+He fought to release himself, but vainly. He looked up into the face of
+Harry Boland.
+
+"What's your hurry?" inquired young Boland coolly. "Don't be in a rush. I
+want to ask you a few questions."
+
+He produced a letter from his pocket. Druce recognized it at a glance as
+the anonymous note he had written to lure young Boland to the cafe.
+
+"Did you write that?" demanded Boland.
+
+Druce struggled in a frenzy.
+
+"To hell with you and your questions," he yelled. "Let me by or I'll kill
+you."
+
+He grappled with Boland and the two men wrestled out to the edge of the
+big drinking room.
+
+"You wrote it," Boland hissed in his ear.
+
+"It's a lie. I'm going to give you the beating of your life."
+
+The elder Boland, who had followed Druce, fell upon his son. Harry turned
+and recognized his father.
+
+"You here?" he demanded, facing his parent.
+
+"Yes," replied John Boland, "I'm here. I came, because I had been
+informed that you were to meet a woman of the tenderloin in this place;
+and when I find you, I find you fighting with a dive-keeper."
+
+Harry dropped the struggling Druce and turned on his father.
+
+"What do you mean?" he asked, defiantly.
+
+"I mean just that," replied John Boland. He turned toward the musicians'
+stand and pointed dramatically at Patience Welcome, who, her face almost
+as pale as her white lace gown, was advancing toward the front of the
+platform to sing.
+
+Harry Boland's face went white as hers.
+
+The words he gasped were drowned by a cry, Elsie Welcome, coming for the
+first time since her return to Druce into the drinking room, saw her
+sister standing upon the rostrum, poised to sing.
+
+"Patience! Patience!" she screamed in a voice of despair. "Oh, my sister,
+what brought you to this place?"
+
+She fell to the floor fainting. The whole cafe was in an uproar.
+
+Carter Anson, roused to fury by the disturbance, fought his way through
+the crowd to the place where he had seen her fall.
+
+Druce, escaped from Harry Boland, struggled from another angle to make
+his way through the mob. As if by magic half a score of policemen
+suddenly hemmed in the fighting mass. Druce, struggling blindly to make a
+pathway for himself, suddenly looked up to see Mary Randall standing on a
+table on the opposite side of the room directing the police. A wave of
+maniacal anger overwhelmed him. In a flash his hand went to his pocket
+and reappeared with a pistol.
+
+There was an explosion, a man's yell of rage, followed by a choking gulp
+of mortal anguish. Druce was seized and flung to the floor.
+
+At the same moment Mary Randall, leaping down from her table, ran to the
+center of the room. Carter Anson lay there, struggling through his last
+throes,--the bullet in his brain.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXIII
+
+                            AFTER THE TRAGEDY
+
+
+Mary Randall stood beside the dead body of Carter Anson. Such tragedy had
+not entered into her plans, nor had she conceived what it might be to see
+a man die bearing the bullet intended for her own intrepid heart. A
+strange numbness possessed her faculties.
+
+She heard the voice of Mrs. Welcome beside her. The mother was speaking
+with anguished entreaty to Elsie. The girl had risen to her feet and was
+gazing with a dreadful fascination at Druce, writhing in the grasp of the
+officers who seized him.
+
+"Come, Miss Randall," one of her police aids said to the reformer. "This
+is no place for you--now."
+
+"There must be something I can do," she spoke with a flash of her usual
+energy, then laid her hand on Mrs. Welcome's arm.
+
+"Harvey Spencer is here," she said. "There he is trying to get through
+the crowd to us now. Perhaps he can help you to persuade your daughter to
+go away with you."
+
+Elsie Welcome looked at Mary Randall, who was destined never to forget
+the pitiful revelation of the girl's dark eyes. Mary Randall read that
+despair of the lost mingled with woman's intense clinging to the man she
+has chosen,--her strange stubborn clinging, when, entangled, she hears an
+echo of happier and purer love.
+
+"How dare you meddle in people's affairs like this and put us into such
+dreadful trouble?" Elsie asked of the one who would help her. Then to her
+mother, pulling away from her longing clasp, "You understand that at a
+time like this my place is with my husband."
+
+Elsie doubled under the arms which would have detained her and ran out of
+the cafe.
+
+"Go to Millville, Mrs. Welcome, back to your old home, as soon you can.
+Let me look after Elsie. Go to this boarding-house (handing her a card).
+Go there with Patience tonight, and I will send you some money tomorrow."
+Miss Randall spoke quickly, and before Mrs. Welcome realized it, had
+hurried in pursuit of Elsie.
+
+But Elsie Welcome had disappeared.
+
+Mary Randall found herself standing, as all who work for those who sin
+and suffer must often stand, baffled by evil's resistance. Saddened by
+somewhat of a divine sadness, Mary went across to the rendezvous where
+her faithful Anna awaited her and left the field.
+
+Harvey Spencer came to her downtown office early next day. He found her
+surrounded by her strongest allies, already in conference as to the best
+means of pursuing their crusade which had aroused Chicago with the
+startling news of The Raid of Mary Randall on the Cafe Sinister,
+headlined in the morning newspapers.
+
+Harvey Spencer had taken Mrs. Welcome to the boarding-house designated by
+Miss Randall where she was joined by Patience--and of Patience you shall
+know presently. The remainder of the night, or most of it, he spent
+trying to learn what had become of Elsie.
+
+"I thought she might be still in that--hotel, as they call it," Harvey,
+haggard with his night's search, told Miss Randall. "I went to the jail
+too, but of course they would not let her inside there so late, even if
+she had wanted to."
+
+"She is sure to go there today to see Druce. Try again, Mr. Spencer, when
+you go out from here," said Miss Randall.
+
+"And keep you eye on Druce. Nobody will suspect you of being a detective.
+You can telephone here if you see any activity around him," said a clever
+special from headquarters.
+
+"Good scheme," commended the journalist, another of Mary Randall's
+strongest aids.
+
+Harvey Spencer made notes of the right steps to take and, thanking Miss
+Randall with a curious humility, went out again on his quest.
+
+"Now we must learn what the vice-moneymakers will try to do next," said a
+former high official in the municipality. "Our one safe bet is that they
+will all get together and that John Boland, the boss of the bunch, will
+map out the fight against us."
+
+"Is it a losing fight?" asked a famous banker, known among his intimates
+as the hard-headed enthusiast.
+
+"Right against wrong can never be permanently a losing fight," quietly
+said a small muscular clergyman from the northwest side.
+
+"It has taken two thousand years for mankind to begin this fight against
+buying and selling young virgins who can be coaxed or thrust into the
+market-place," said Mary Randall. "We must fight on, even in one
+seemingly losing field. It is not to be believed that the people of this
+nation will be content to submit very much longer to the presence of a
+band of prowling wolves tolerated by courts and protected by rascally
+lawyers whose acknowledged trade is to destroy virtue,--the latent
+motherhood of young women,--whose whole activity is directed to the
+exploitation of our little lost sisters."
+
+"Chicago has to lead the fight, as she has been one of the leaders in the
+trade," said the banker. "Now, for our next step!"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXIV
+
+                      "THE HIGHWAY OF THE UPRIGHT"
+
+
+Up to the moment when he heard the report of Druce's pistol and saw
+Carter Anson fall, Harry Boland's whole being had been concentrated in a
+consuming horror at sight of Patience Welcome in the Cafe Sinister.
+
+The crack of the pistol restored his composure. He saw clearly the infamy
+of the plot against her,--and against himself. One of the conspirators
+was already dead on the scene of this last of many crimes. Druce was
+struggling with the police, taking him for murder of Anson, his partner.
+
+John Boland, the third conspirator, faced his son in a desperate
+composure.
+
+"Come, Harry, we must get out of here. It will never do to be seen
+here--"
+
+"For you!" Harry shook off his father's hand upon his arm. "Go, by all
+means! I shall take care of myself." He walked towards the singers'
+platform beyond the seething crowd.
+
+John Boland believed of himself afterwards that he would have followed
+Harry, but at the moment he saw a bowed and gray-haired woman before him,
+great fear and horror on her face, pressing her way in from scrubbing in
+the booths beyond. The mop and bucket with which she had been working
+were in either hand. At sight of his face she dropped her tools of toil
+and clutched his coat. It was Tom Welcome's widow.
+
+He uttered a cry like a beast of prey as he shook her off; but he felt
+himself shiver, conscience making him a coward, and he hurried out,
+reaching by an exit the alley leading to a side street.
+
+A police lieutenant suddenly barred his way.
+
+"Not so fast there," said the functionary.
+
+Boland recognized the man as an officer whom he had once placed under
+obligation to him.
+
+"Good evening, Murphy."
+
+"Mr. Boland!"
+
+"Yes. I was passing and heard the shot. You understand, of course, that I
+wish to avoid being seen here. Do you know where I can find a taxi?"
+
+The policeman turned and summoned a taxicab with a gesture. Boland got in
+at the open door. He leaned forward and spoke with peculiar force,
+although very low:
+
+"If my son, Harry Boland, happens to pass by here, see that he gets into
+a taxi whose driver will bring him to my house, to my house, remember, no
+matter what address he gives."
+
+"I understand, sir." Probably the young man's been misbehaving, was what
+he thought.
+
+"Pay the driver--in advance--with this, or part of it," continued Mr.
+Boland.
+
+"Thank you, sir; thank you. I understand."
+
+Boland's car scuttled away into the darkness.
+
+Harry Boland, pushing through the crowd to Patience, saw the futile
+effort of Mrs. Welcome to take Elsie from the place. He heard Mary
+Randall's brief direction and spoke reassuringly to the anguished mother
+as he pressed a friendly hand on her slight shoulder.
+
+"I will see that Spencer takes you to that boarding-house, where you will
+be comfortable until you can get away. I will bring Patience. We may get
+there before you arrive."
+
+As John Boland foresaw, it was but a few moments after his own departure
+before Harry Boland reached the street looking for a conveyance. He was
+assisting Patience Welcome. Rather, she was clinging to him, sobbing like
+a frightened child. The shooting that had interrupted her pathetic
+attempt to sing was only part of the tragedy to her.
+
+"I--I saw my little sister in there," she sobbed. "She called me by name.
+And such a pathetic cry. Did you hear it?" Patience was sadly unnerved
+and ill.
+
+"Hush, dear one," Harry soothed her. "Your mother, Harvey and Miss
+Randall are there, you know. Whatever can be done, they will do. You are
+my one and only care, and just now, dearest girl, you're ill. I'll take
+you to the place where your mother is going. Now, please stop crying;
+try--try--everything will be all right."
+
+A taxicab appeared, the chauffeur seemingly having anticipated that he
+was wanted. Harry got in, half carrying Patience, and expecting to be
+stopped by an officer. But no policeman seemed to see or hear him as he
+gave the driver the address of the old-fashioned boarding-house selected
+by Mary Randall.
+
+They rode in silence. Patience sat apart from him, breathing deeply of
+the fresh air at the window of the car as they rushed swiftly through the
+city streets. Slowly he felt the tension of the situation released. It
+was as if the dazed girl were freed from the physical mesh which had been
+thrown about her.
+
+Then she spoke quite calmly, in her natural voice, but very slowly:
+
+"Harry, I once dreamed that I was in terrible trouble and that you came
+and helped me. Are you sure I am not dreaming now?"
+
+"Is it a happy dream, if you are, my darling?"
+
+"I--I don't know," faltered Patience. "It is wonderful to be here
+with--you."
+
+"Do you trust me, Patience? Do you trust me when I tell you that I care
+more for you than I ever knew I could care for anybody?"
+
+"Yes," she whispered.
+
+"I want to make you happy. I want to love you and work for you and have
+you for my wife, and make a home with you."
+
+"Harry!" She slipped her hand into his.
+
+"Harry, I still feel afraid. It was such a dreadful thing to see. Was
+that man killed? It was he who asked me to sing. They had been
+disappointed about getting a singer, he said, and he gave me ten dollars.
+All that money for a few songs--it seemed like stealing. But I took it.
+Mother helped put on this dress they gave me to sing in. You know I went
+there to help mother clean the place. And to think we saw a murder!"
+
+"My poor darling!" Something in his voice caused her to put her hand up
+to his face. He felt her finger tips on his eyelids, then down his wet
+cheeks.
+
+"My poor darling!" She put her arm around his neck--then their trembling
+lips met.
+
+Harry was the first to speak. "All that you have gone through brings us
+closer together than anything else in life possibly could, Patience. I am
+so proud of you and so down on myself that I ever let you out of my
+sight--"
+
+"You must not be down on my--"
+
+"Say it, dear! I want to hear my sweetheart say the word."
+
+"I was going to say 'my dearest,' but I'll say,--if you want me
+to,--my--my husband."
+
+"You dear, sweet wife!" responded Harry.
+
+After a few moments Harry observed that they were being taken farther
+than he had directed the man to go. The boarding-house was rather close
+to town. He found that they were well on the north side, nearing the
+quarter of his father's house. He called to stop the driver, but the man
+remained deaf to his efforts, except to increase the speed, and presently
+drew up at the Boland mansion.
+
+"How dare you bring me here?" Harry demanded, stepping out of the car to
+remonstrate.
+
+"Orders."
+
+"Orders! I ordered you where I wanted you to go. Here, if you need two
+fares for one job, you swindler! Hold on--"
+
+"Driver! Come here."
+
+Harry heard his father's stern voice from the opened doorway. "Driver!
+Take that girl wherever she wants to go. Harry, come in here! It's time
+for a show-down."
+
+"It certainly is time for a show-down!" Harry assisted Patience from the
+car. "You may wait and earn the fare I just paid you or go to jail," he
+said to the driver, and boldly led Patience into his father's house.
+
+The elder Boland turned into a den at the right of the front hallway and
+closed the door. He looked at Patience with an appraising glance, then
+kindly at his son.
+
+"I suppose you must be humored in this affair," he said in an indulgent
+manner, "while you haven't sense to see that the present is scarcely the
+time to devote yourself to any such young woman. What do you say to a
+trip to California? I'll foot all the bills, and later I will settle what
+you ask for on you." He spoke to Patience.
+
+"Thank you." She spoke without a tremor. "You may do something
+substantial for my mother, because you--took--my poor father's invention.
+Do you know, sir, that my poor father never recovered from that loss?"
+
+"Hell's fire!" yelled John Boland, "I--"
+
+"You see, sir," interrupted Harry deliberately, "it really is time for a
+show-down. I wouldn't go away from Chicago at present, even for the
+wedding journey which we will pretend you were honestly offering us. I am
+going to stay and fight it out. You will have to stay and fight it out,
+too."
+
+"Me?" blustered Boland. "What have I got to fight out?"
+
+"You know very well why you were at Druce's cafe tonight. You were in a
+plot against me, leagued with that fellow, Druce, and his tribe, too,
+against the crusade started by Mary Randall to protect girls. You prefer
+to make money exploiting them. Not directly, perhaps, but conspicuously
+indirect."
+
+"So you are turning traitor in--politics?" sneered his father. "Taking
+sides with a crazy fanatic, whose presence at the cafe caused the death
+of a good citizen of Chicago. Druce did not mean to shoot Anson."
+
+"I see your line of defense. It's you who have turned traitor--to all
+that is right in you as a man. See, here is the anonymous letter which
+summoned me to the cafe tonight. I wish you could tell me that you do not
+know who wrote that note."
+
+Boland read the letter scornfully. "How should I know who writes you
+letters? Young men who make alliances with women who frequent such places
+must expect such messages," he sneered.
+
+"Stop!" Harry's eyes blazed with anger. "We have borne all that we shall
+of that sort from you. One more such syllable and I shall not be able to
+speak to you as to my father--even in outward respect."
+
+"You seem already to have forgotten that completely."
+
+Harry let the sneer pass. "It is up to you, sir, to decide now--this
+moment--whether or not I ever look upon you as my father again. I have
+myself decided that I shall no longer be a party to your crimes."
+
+"Crimes! My God, this is too much!"
+
+"You are too shrewd a man to have a fool for a son. I see plainly that
+you were leagued with Druce and Anson to blacken the woman I love. But
+right is might and love is right. The whole dastardly affair enlightens
+me as to the nature of your alliance with that dive. Why did you renew
+the lease to Druce against my protest? I never realized until tonight the
+horror of your extensive holdings of tenderloin property. I don't want
+another cent from such sources."
+
+"Very well." The elder Boland shook with anger. "Get out of this house,
+you and your--fitting mate. Never let me see your face again. Tomorrow I
+will undertake a campaign which will brand you among your friends as a
+son who turned traitor to his father in his hour of stress. All my power,
+all my money, will be against you. I will crush you as I have every man
+who has dared oppose me. Get out of my house!"
+
+Harry gazed at his father in a tumult of pity and wrath, but he did not
+speak.
+
+Patience, her eyes filled with tears, her hands nervously clutching her
+'kerchief, walked up to the angry man.
+
+"I am sorry for you," she said, "just as I always used to be sorry for my
+poor father when he was drunk as you are now with your own anger. You
+know that I _am_ a fitting mate for your son. I don't understand your
+enmity unless it's because we're not rich like you."
+
+Harry caught Patience in his arms. "Remember, it makes no difference to
+me what my father says. I'm a man and able to choose my own wife." He
+looked at his father. "We are going now," he said firmly.
+
+There was no reply.
+
+The door closed behind his son. John Boland staggered to a couch and
+falling down beside it buried his face in his arms.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XXV
+
+                    THE INTERESTS VERSUS MARY RANDALL
+
+
+If John Boland was shaken by the interview with his son, there was no
+evidence of it in his bearing when he appeared at the offices of the
+Electric Trust the following morning. As he took his accustomed place at
+his desk he looked tired, but he wore what La Salle street knew as his
+fighting face.
+
+Boland had scarcely established himself for the day when he discovered
+that his decision to remain in Chicago had been anticipated by those who
+knew him well in affairs. A dozen messages were waiting for him. The
+forces opposed to Mary Randall and her reforms looked to him for
+leadership.
+
+As soon as the details of the raid on the Cafe Sinister had become
+definitely known, there had been a quick general movement on the part of
+the leaders of the Levee to get together. They met in secret places to
+deplore the taking off of Anson, to form alliances against their common
+enemy. From these meetings went appeals for protection to the forces
+higher up.
+
+Aid was invoked of the great financial interests involved, directly and
+indirectly, in the traffic in souls. Political overlords of the city sent
+word that the protection demanded should not be wanting. Within twelve
+hours they had effected an organization whose ramifications extended into
+wholly unexpected places. Then, having formed the machine, they turned
+with one accord to John Boland to guide it.
+
+His acceptance of this leadership was unavoidable, even if he had wished
+to avoid it. To reject it would have been treason to the forces which had
+fought side by side with him in many a former and desperate campaign. To
+give Boland credit, his courage was equal to the task he had no wish to
+avoid. He knew the situation was dangerous, but he was a fighter born.
+
+Having made up his mind to give battle, Boland addressed himself to the
+task of outlining his campaign. He was too shrewd, too thoroughly
+familiar with all the elements making up Chicago, to underestimate his
+enemy. He knew that Mary Randall was appealing passionately to a public
+morality which hated the vice system with a wholehearted hatred. He knew,
+too, that when the light of truth fell upon his followers they would
+scurry to shelter. His first step was to exclude from his offices every
+employe of whose loyalty he could not be completely certain. He had his
+bitter lesson on that score, certainly, he told himself.
+
+By telephone and by private messenger he proceeded to summon his chief
+allies to a conference. These men arrived within an hour. One was a
+United States Senator, two were bankers of impeccable reputation. One was
+a political boss whose authority was a by-word in one of the great
+parties, another a philanthropist whose spectacular gratuities to public
+institutions came from huge dividends made for him by underpaid employes,
+and with him a clergyman managed by this philanthropist and the bankers
+and a newspaper publisher whose little soul had been often bought and
+sold, so that certain of his profession were wont to say one could see
+thumb-marks of Mammon on him as he passed by.
+
+Boland did not invite Grogan to this meeting. He intended at first to ask
+him, but his friend had shown too much sympathy of late with sentiment in
+life.
+
+John Boland's council of war was in session for five hours. Every phase
+of the situation was taken up and discussed with thoroughness
+characteristic of these leaders of men, with thoroughness, too, that
+showed full familiarity with all the conditions of commercialized vice in
+Chicago. The evasions and bombast wherewith these citizens were
+accustomed to adorn their public addresses before vice commission
+inquiries were strangely lacking. They spoke among themselves plainly and
+without pretenses.
+
+Towards the close of this conference John Boland offered his plan of
+action:
+
+"Gentlemen," he addressed the others from the head of his directors'
+table in his inner office. "We all agree that what we have most to fear
+is publicity. In fact, if these reformers had no publicity they would be
+without weapons. As you are aware, the extent to which we can control the
+newspapers is limited. If news comes to them in the regular way they are
+bound to print it, so if we are to avoid disastrous publicity we must
+stop it at its source.
+
+"At this moment the 'news' of the situation centers about Druce and those
+of his employes who are now in jail. We can't prevent his being indicted,
+we can't prevent his case coming to trial, if we allow him to remain in
+jail.
+
+"My friends, I need not tell you that such a trial would fill the
+newspapers with what they call 'exposures' of vice conditions that would
+be calamitous. You all agree with me that vice is a terrible thing. We
+know--none better, as our discussions have indicated--how great this evil
+is in our city. But there is something more menacing than vice,--namely,
+an ill-controlled and hysterical anti-vice crusade, rushing on and
+intoxicating itself with its own sensations, and shaking the business
+fabric of the city.
+
+"Think of the want that will come to the poor in Chicago if confidence in
+our leading business men should be seriously shaken! It is our duty as
+pillars--if I may say so--of Chicago's financial structure to avoid, to
+prevent, public trials of vice cases.
+
+"How are we to go about suppressing the excitement of a trial of Martin
+Druce? Various expedients suggest themselves to us all. Is not the most
+feasible to have Druce released on bail?"
+
+"Yes, to any amount!" called two voices.
+
+"I believe the matter can be arranged," replied John Boland, graciously.
+"Indeed, I have taken the liberty to discuss that phase of the situation
+with Judge Grundell. He is of opinion that Druce can be freed. My own
+attorneys have given the subject some consideration also. As I understand
+it, Druce is booked for murder--"
+
+"Is murder a bailable offense in Chicago?"
+
+"Ordinarily, no. But in this case it can be shown that there were
+extenuating circumstances. We can make a showing of facts to demonstrate
+that the killing of Carter Anson was purely accidental."
+
+"Druce was only trying to shoot Mary Randall, as I heard it," said a grim
+voice.
+
+"H'm! Suppose we say instead that Druce thought some one was creating a
+disturbance in his place of business, became excited and fired. The
+bullet hit Anson. Our opponents are not expecting, probably, any move by
+us towards the release of Druce on bail. It is unlikely that they will
+resist the application. In any event, I have already taken up the matter
+with the judge.
+
+"With Druce freed and resting in safe seclusion, I consider it advisable
+to place him in possession of facilities that will enable him to remain
+at liberty for an indefinite period--until this excitement has blown
+over, you understand."
+
+"We can send him out to China on business," said one.
+
+"Exactly. My attorney has a young man who will see that he is rightly
+started on his journey, avoiding all publicity. The cases of his employes
+will come on for trial; but with Druce out of the way, it will be
+extremely difficult for our opponents to obtain any convictions. Thus
+this whole sensation will fall flat and the reform crusaders will find
+themselves discredited before the public."
+
+Applause welcomed John Boland's summing up of the situation and his
+formulation of a practical plan. Members of the conference rose smiling
+cheerfully, shook hands all around and made it plain that each was ready
+to pay, pay, pay. The door had not closed behind them before John Boland
+set in motion the machinery which was to set Martin Druce free.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXVI
+
+                               OUT ON BAIL
+
+
+When Martin Druce heard the news that bail had been raised for his
+release and that all arrangements were being made for his flight and
+concealment, it was exactly half an hour before the bail bond was signed
+and the order sent to the prison that he should be set at liberty.
+
+Broken by his incarceration, terrified by his murderous experience of the
+last night at the cafe, red-eyed and restless, the dive-keeper was pacing
+up and down his cell. A pickpocket whom he knew and who, through his own
+political pull was serving a term as a trusty, brought the information to
+him scrawled on a bit of cigarette paper which, with a little warning
+whistle, he dropped through the bars of the steel cage.
+
+Druce picked up the note and read it furtively. He waited for the trusty
+to pass him again, then beckoning him, he whispered, "See if my gal isn't
+outside somewhere. She just left here. Tell her to wait. She can get into
+the automobile which they will be sure to send for me."
+
+It was not affection, but cowardice, that led Druce to think of Elsie
+first. Since he had been locked up he had crumbled under his trouble. He
+was so much shaken in mind and body by the killing of Anson and by his
+arrest that he was actually afraid to go out of the jail alone.
+
+After what seemed an eternity of waiting he heard footsteps in the
+corridor. A guard appeared and unlocked the iron door, beckoned to Druce,
+and he passed out.
+
+In a little waiting-room an iron-faced jail attendant handed him his
+watch and knife and some money taken from him when he was locked up. A
+lawyer whom he knew signaled him to follow.
+
+Another steel door stood open and Druce found himself outside the prison,
+breathing the free air of night. An automobile stood there. Druce saw
+that Elsie was already within.
+
+"The driver has instructions," said the lawyer. "Later you will hear
+further from me."
+
+"What to hell are they going to do for me?" growled Druce.
+
+"No time to argue," said the lawyer. "Here!" He pressed something in his
+hand. "Your game is to get away while the getting is good." He slammed
+the door as Druce got in. The car turned the corner and went north.
+
+"Where are we going?" Elsie asked.
+
+Druce mumbled an unintelligible answer.
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Shut up your ranting at me!" He shook off her hand. "I guess you'll get
+your three squares a day."
+
+Nothing more was said for several moments. Elsie lay back with her eyes
+closed. By the light from occasional street lamps Druce was counting a
+roll of bills.
+
+"Here, kid, look at this." He spoke with just a touch of softness and
+bravado. "That young guy slipped it to me. My backers got to give me a
+nice trip to foreign lands. There'll be plenty of kale. I'm going to take
+you along, see." He did not add that her too great knowledge of his
+methods made others desirous that she, too, should be far away when the
+trial of the dive's employes came to pass. Elsie opened her eyes.
+
+"I should think you would show that you feel a little bit glad that I'm
+out," he whined. "Think of those days in that jail."
+
+Elsie would not have dared fail to express sympathy for him, but he was
+in need of a match for the cigarette he held. Hailing the chauffeur, he
+had the next instant forgotten his demand.
+
+They drove in silence until they reached the house that had been prepared
+for their hiding-place. "Furnished rooms--Light Housekeeping" was
+inscribed on a card, tacked conspicuously in the doorway.
+
+A woman near middle age, inclined to be fleshy, with large features that
+reflected the dim hall light, met them, her arms akimbo.
+
+"Everything's all right for you folks. Upstairs front. There's a gas
+stove in the closet if you all--
+
+"We ain't pikers--we'll get our eats sent in. Here, take this." Druce put
+a slip of paper and a greenback into Elsie's hand.
+
+"Go to the drug-store there at the corner and get this prescription
+filled," he ordered. "It's morphine. I've got to sleep tonight."
+
+Elsie obeyed passively. When she returned Druce was pacing the room wild
+with impatience. His greenbacks and a bottle of absinthe lay on the
+table.
+
+He lost no time in resorting to the morphine. "Absinthe is the stuff to
+put life in your body; but it's the good old dope to make you forget all
+your troubles," he soliloquized, Very shortly he was on the bed, sound
+asleep.
+
+Elsie paced softly back and forth in the room for a long time. Then she
+went out into the dark hallway. She opened the window and stood looking
+into the street. It was quiet there. The stars looked down on a deserted
+way.
+
+That big bright star over there! Was it not the one she and her sister
+used to choose when wishing from their bedroom window at Millville! How
+long ago that seemed; how wide and dreadful life's abyss between!
+
+"If I had known, if I had known!" Elsie shuddered and glanced towards the
+closed door. "I was bound to have my own way. My--own--way. That's it.
+There was something in me--" She faced her actions, she probed into her
+thoughts from the hour she first met Martin Druce. She marshalled her
+scathing shames before the judgment bar of her womanhood. In the flaming
+fires of tortured conscience she stood and suffered.
+
+Then she began to wonder about the future. Where was she bound? Where
+would he be sent? What strange lands might she see?
+
+How could she go with him? How could she stay behind? The street--the
+dreadful streets of night!
+
+Elsie shuddered, remembering those nights in the Levee, the fear and
+horror, and at last the shameful, gnawing hunger that drove her to him
+again.
+
+Back in the room where the dive-keeper lay in stupor Elsie spread a quilt
+on the floor and went wearily to her broken rest.
+
+When she awoke Druce was trying nervously to roll a cigarette. The paper
+broke.
+
+"Here, you, it's morning. It's time you woke up. Take this money. Get me
+some cigarettes. I can't roll them."
+
+He was a being frightening to see by this time. The morphine and the
+French poison had torn his nerves to fragments. His eyes glared like
+coals in his pasty white face.
+
+Elsie did not try to talk to him. She saw that he was beyond that. She
+took some money from the table and went out again to buy the cigarettes
+and food. When she returned Druce refused to eat. He took up the bottle
+of absinthe and drank from it, swallowing the burning liquid with
+animal-like gulps that made Elsie shudder.
+
+"You'll kill yourself," said Elsie. "Take some of this milk."
+
+"Mind your own damn business," returned Druce, hoarsely. "You stick to
+milk. I'll stick to absinthe."
+
+Again he lay down and again he slept. The long day passed. Night came and
+with a wild wind and a beating rain.
+
+Druce woke in a half delirium.
+
+"More absinthe, more absinthe," he muttered. The bottle on the table was
+empty. "Why didn't you have another bottle here? What have you been
+doing, eh?"
+
+"Do you think you better take any more?" asked Elsie.
+
+Druce stood glaring at her. His eyes flamed as he rushed across the room
+like a madman. Before she could get out of his way he struck her a brutal
+blow that felled her to the floor, and kicked her as she struggled. He
+reached for the empty bottle and brandished it over her.
+
+"Damn you, get out of here quick and get me that dope!"
+
+Elsie got to her feet.
+
+"I'll go," she said, faintly.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXVII
+
+                    HARVEY SPENCER TAKES UP THE TRAIL
+
+
+Harvey had waited about the jail for days. He was certain that Elsie
+Welcome would return to Druce, and he was resolved to make a great effort
+to induce her to leave him.
+
+In his unsubtle makeup the measure of his devotion was as great as the
+measure of his unspoiled manhood. The girl he wished to make his wife had
+been taken from him. She had removed herself far from his kindness and
+care, but he could not cease to offer her the care she needed more
+poignantly than before.
+
+The personal interest of so conspicuous a person as Mary Randall, in
+Elsie's case, had undoubtedly urged Harvey on--when otherwise he might
+have given up. Even so, his courage and persistency, and personal
+sacrifices, were wonderful to behold.
+
+On the night when Druce was at last removed from the jail Harvey was
+standing in an alley opposite the public entrance to the jail watching
+the automobile which stood awaiting the coming of someone from within.
+
+Finally he saw the slender figure of a woman emerge from a doorway and
+enter the automobile. He knew that figure. He ran across the street and
+around the car. He noted its number with one of those keen flashes of
+memory, conscious at the moment that he should remember that number as
+long as he drew breath.
+
+He flung open the door on the further side of the automobile.
+
+Elsie faced him. "What are you doing here?" she asked in an icy little
+voice.
+
+"I--no--Won't you come to your mother, Elsie? Won't you come away from
+this man? Your mother and Patience love you so much and have been trying
+so hard to find you and--"
+
+"I can't, Harvey--I--perhaps--Oh! Go away. Druce is coming. He will--hurt
+you."
+
+"It doesn't matter about me. It's you."
+
+"I--I must stand by my husband."
+
+"Husband! He isn't your husband. He fooled you with a marriage license.
+Anybody can get a license in Chicago, but Druce's license was never
+returned. He likely got some fellow to pretend to perform the marriage.
+Elsie, it wasn't legal, I can prove it."
+
+For an instant Elsie's spirit flamed in her eyes and her burning cheeks
+paled. Then she saw Druce coming and she turned towards him wearily, a
+strange quivering and drooping of her eyelids alone showing that she had
+heard. In the presence of her master she grew meek as a little child.
+
+Harvey drifted back into the shadows of the jail, powerless to help her,
+and saw her driven away with the man who had ruined her earthly life.
+
+Fighting his grief and despair, he went to the nearest drug-store and
+telephoned Miss Randall of what he had seen.
+
+"Druce out on bail! A murderer out on bail in Chicago!" she exclaimed.
+"Oh, Harvey, if only you had thought to jump into a taxicab and follow
+them to see where they have been taken."
+
+"I'm no detective. I am going back to Millville. Perhaps I can get back
+my old job in the grocery store," he answered grimly.
+
+"Hello! Miss Randall! Hello! I remember the number of the machine." He
+gave it.
+
+"Good! Wait a minute till I see whose that is. Hold the wire." She
+consulted her list of the automobile numbers entered in Illinois and
+found that this one belonged to a professional bondsman named Comstock.
+
+She gave Harvey the man's residence number.
+
+"Go out there first thing in the morning and see if you can find out from
+the chauffeur where the machine went tonight. Keep a stiff upper lip, Mr.
+Spencer, you have really done splendidly."
+
+Harvey went early next day to the address given him, a residence of the
+type called stone-fronted, in a district no longer fashionable. There was
+a garage, but no automobile. Harvey made a careful survey of the premises
+without gaining ground. He saw another of Mary Randall's aids come,
+linger about and go away; but remembering her advice about keeping a
+stiff upper lip, he stayed on. He was to be rewarded late in the
+afternoon.
+
+A car rumbled into the garage. Its colored driver immediately began
+washing it and Harvey sauntered back into the yard. The number on it was
+the one printed on his memory.
+
+From somewhere back in his tired brain came the impulse to say,
+
+"I'm a repair man from Gavin's garage. Mr. Comstock told me to come over
+and take a look at his car. Said he had it out in the rain last night and
+it wasn't working right."
+
+"Yes, sah; that car certainly has been drove last night. Some of the
+battery connections got wet." The chauffeur was glib enough.
+
+"Lights and ignition out of order?" Harvey pretended to examine the car,
+asking seemingly careless questions and gaining from the negro the
+information that the car had gone from the jail with Druce to an obscure
+street far out on the northwest side. The man could not give the number
+of the house, but said it was one of three in the middle of "a short
+little street."
+
+Harvey made the excuse that he must go back to the garage where he was
+employed to get his tools, and hurried away.
+
+It was growing dark and a wild, stormy rain-wind was blowing when he
+reached the remote neighborhood described for him by the bondsman's
+talkative servant. He was gazing at the three forbidding dwellings
+standing near the center of the block, trying to make up his mind which
+to approach first, when he saw Elsie in her long rain-coat come out of
+the middle house, hesitate a moment, then hurry down the steps into the
+street.
+
+He slipped into the shadow of a house, his heart thumping.
+
+"Elsie!" he called softly in a voice scarcely above a whisper.
+
+She stopped, startled.
+
+"Is it Harvey?" Elsie peered doubtingly into the darkness, then stepped
+trustingly towards him as he replied,
+
+"Yes, it's sure Harvey." He caught the sadness in her words and his voice
+shook. "Won't you come away with me now? Your mother wants you!"
+
+"Your life is in danger with him. Why don't you leave him?" he added
+earnestly.
+
+"Leave him," she repeated. "Oh, if I only could! My mother and
+Patience--how are they?"
+
+"They are well and safe, only they want you. They're going back to
+Millville, to the same cottage. It's going to be all fixed over. Patience
+is going to be married--Mr. Harry Boland."
+
+Tears streamed from Elsie's eyes. She leaned against the iron fence that
+skirted the sidewalk.
+
+"Don't you see, Harvey, I just couldn't go home? I couldn't bear to make
+Patience--ashamed of me. Don't tell her that, though, will you? Tell them
+that I have to stay with my--my--oh, don't let mother know you saw me.
+Don't let her know any different."
+
+"You poor little thing--"
+
+She looked about her in alarm. "I mustn't stay here. You mustn't, either.
+It's no use, Harvey. The life's got me--I can't turn back."
+
+The next moment she was running down the street as if hurrying from a
+pursuer.
+
+Harvey saw her enter the corner drug-store, waited a little while, then
+decided he too had business in the drug-store. He would telephone Miss
+Randall--but he must be careful. Elsie was receiving a package from the
+drug clerk, as he entered the 'phone booth--and left while he was
+talking. Harvey was standing with his face to the wall, speaking in a
+whisper, lest his message would be overheard. He did not see Elsie
+depart.
+
+He got the reformer herself on the telephone.
+
+"I have found them," he said.
+
+"Good!" Joy and relief were in her tones. "Watch them carefully, won't
+you? We'll have detectives there in a jiffy with a new warrant for Druce.
+This time for white slavery. He will not escape us again."
+
+Harvey gave the number of the house where Druce and Elsie had been
+hidden, appointed a rendezvous with the detective and returned at once to
+watch the house. He decided that Elsie had hurried back while he was at
+the telephone.
+
+In less than an hour an automobile rushed up to the house. Two men got
+out and hurried into the place. One of them he recognized as the lawyer
+he had seen at the entrance of the jail. There were not his detectives.
+
+The storm had increased and the rain was driving in blinding torrents
+across the street.
+
+Harvey saw a group of people suddenly emerge from the house. The
+chauffeur jumped down and took part with the struggling little crowd. He
+could hear Druce swearing loudly, calling out Elsie's name with words of
+abuse. The men pushed the drunken man into the car, and got in after him.
+
+Harvey looked about for some sort of a vehicle, but none was in sight and
+the auto was actually starting. He sprang on the rear, spring and,
+crouching, hung on desperately. They drove for a long time; to him it
+seemed hours as his hands grew numb and his muscles ached from clinging
+to his precarious hold. Fortunately the storm had subsided.
+
+The driver turned into a dark, cobble paved street. The auto swayed and
+jolted like a ship on the rocks. The road was full of pitch-holes and as
+the wheels slipped into them a blinding spray of muddy water was flung
+into Harvey's face. The machine put on more speed and swung around a
+corner. Another hole! The car careened, almost turned over, and Harvey
+was thrown into the street.
+
+As he struggled to his feet the red rear light of the automobile was two
+blocks away. But he went on, gasping for breath, stumbling. Presently he
+found himself in the district near the river, close to the north side
+water front, which is deserted after night-fall.
+
+He had hurried on like a man in a dream. Now he came to the edge of the
+river and stood staring down into the water.
+
+Out in the stream he could see the shadowy outline of a boat. Looking
+more closely, he saw that he was scarcely two hundred feet from the
+craft. The darkness had multiplied the distance; it was now penetrated by
+a lantern light moving on the deck, evidently in the hand of someone who
+was standing aft on the boat.
+
+There was distinct, loud talking and swearing between men.
+
+Harvey thought that it was a fishing smack. Its demonstrative passengers
+were bent upon waking up the night and almost woke him up to the purpose
+of his night's errand when he heard a loud voice say:
+
+"Cut that out, Druce. No more boozing, d'you hear?"
+
+"D-r-u-c-e."
+
+Harvey was as near fainting as a healthy young man might be with the
+shock of this surprise after his tremendous exertions and his fall. He
+stood as if petrified.
+
+But his ears still caught the sound of swearing and he saw men moving
+quickly about on the deck, then the gray white of sails spreading like
+gaunt ghosts. The swish of water told him that the boat was moving, that
+his quarry was slipping into pitch-blackness ahead.
+
+That was the finish of his courage.
+
+Harvey felt his limbs trembling, felt something trickle down his face. He
+was beaten.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+                         THE FORCES THAT CONQUER
+
+
+When the tenderloin learned that Martin Druce had been released on a bond
+for thirty thousand dollars, the tenderloin laughed.
+
+The laugh was low and cunning and there was more than the suggestion of a
+sneer in it. It rang from one end of the district to the other,
+convulsing dive-keepers who for days had been as funereal as undertakers.
+It sounded in dance halls and bagnios, in barrooms and gambling dens.
+
+It eddied up into Chicago's higher air and found an echo in clubs
+frequented by distinguished financier-politicians.
+
+John Boland had won! The brain that had never failed had proved its
+resourcefulness once again in this hour of dire trouble. Druce was gone.
+He would never be heard of in Chicago again. It had cost thirty thousand
+dollars, but what was thirty thousand dollars? Mary Randall and her
+crusaders were crushed. Anson was dead. Druce was gone.
+
+What mattered it now how much evidence Mary Randall had gathered in
+against the Cafe Sinister! There would be a period of quiet. The
+tenderloin would carefully observe all the proprieties. Then the case of
+the State against Martin Druce would be called and Druce would not
+respond to that summons. And so Mary Randall's sensation would die an
+unnatural death--death from smothering, death from lack of expression.
+Afterward the tenderloin would resume its old operations. No wonder the
+tenderloin laughed!
+
+John Boland felt none of this exultation when he returned to his office
+on the morning following Druce's release. An indefinable oppression
+weighed him down. He had won, he knew--and yet the air about him seemed
+charged with prescience of evil. He tried to shake it off and could not.
+He was anxious, too, about Harry. Why, he asked himself, should he worry
+about an ungrateful son. John Boland did not know the answer, yet the
+answer was very plain. His son Harry was his own flesh and blood and no
+man can cut himself off from his own flesh and blood without feeling some
+sort of reaction.
+
+John Boland, the man of brain and iron was only human after all. He loved
+his son.
+
+He was in a state of gloomy meditation when he opened his desk and
+resumed his day's work. The telephone bell jangled constantly. The
+councillors who had participated in the conference over Druce's case
+which had resulted so happily were calling up to congratulate Boland on
+the success of his maneuver. Somehow these felicitations did not please
+him as his fellow advisers had expected.
+
+His mood was gloomy. He could not shake it off. Constantly the same
+question returned to his mind he had won, yes, but what difference did it
+make? Was he any happier? Was the world any better? Boland had never been
+worried by questions of this sort before. He could not answer them.
+
+He was still in this gray mood when the guardian of his door announced
+the arrival of Grogan. Michael Grogan was, perhaps, Boland's most
+intimate friend. He had not taken Grogan into his confidence when he
+planned his coup to release Druce. He felt that Grogan would not be in
+sympathy with his campaign for destroying the work of the reformers.
+Still he was glad to see Grogan. After all he was a friend. And this
+morning John Boland, for the first time, perhaps, in his life, felt the
+need of a friend.
+
+"John," said Grogan taking a seat, "I see you've 'sprung' Druce?"
+
+"Yes? Mike you're an inveterate reader of the newspapers."
+
+"They're yelling about it this morning."
+
+"Let them yell."
+
+"You did it?"
+
+"Well Mike, I'm a modest man. I had something to do with it."
+
+"It's a rotten business!"
+
+"What!"
+
+"I said it was a rotten business."
+
+"The commercial interests of the city demanded it. Do you think I will
+stand idly by and see a bunch of half-baked reformers shake down the
+business institutions of Chicago?"
+
+"John, they are right."
+
+"O yes, I suppose if you take the mamby-pamby, hysterical, sentimental
+end of it, any campaign that hits at vice is right."
+
+"It was a great movement. Mary Randall is a fine girl. You'll live to
+regret that you helped to thwart her."
+
+"Pshaw, what's the matter with you, man? You're blood seems to be turning
+to milk. The papers will howl for a few days and then they'll forget it.
+We'll invite them to. We'll suggest that if they don't forget it the
+interests we represent may feel called upon to cut down their
+advertising. They'll forget it all right."
+
+"No, John," Grogan spoke deliberately. "You can't kill off a great and
+righteous movement by choking a few newspapers. The newspapers are
+powerful but their power has its limits. That girl has built a fire under
+this town that will rage in spite of you or me, or any one else. We can't
+stop it." Grogan rose. "That's all," he said, "I just dropped in to let
+you know how I feel about it. I thought I might be able to persuade you
+to get out of this fight. I guess, John, you're incorrigible. Well, no
+hard feelings."
+
+Boland laughed. "Have a drink as you go out. You need something to cheer
+you up."
+
+Grogan stopped. "Where's Harry?" he asked suddenly.
+
+Boland flushed and his brow darkened.
+
+"I don't know," he answered. "He and I have had a misunderstanding. He
+insists on marrying this Welcome girl. I don't know where he is and I
+don't care."
+
+Grogan looked surprised. "John," he said, "I'd feel sorry for you if I
+didn't know you are lying. You do care. You can't conceal it. You care
+now, and worse you'll be caring more and more as time goes on. John,
+there are some things even you can't do."
+
+"Well, Mike, what are they?"
+
+"You can't beat Nature and you can't beat God. Good day."
+
+In vain Boland scoffed at Grogan's sentimentalism. Again and again the
+words rose in his mind:
+
+You can't beat Nature and you can't beat God.
+
+The telephone rang. At the other end of the wire was that senator who had
+been at his conference. He asked Boland in a frightened voice if he had
+seen the papers, and then rang off.
+
+Boland, alarmed, sent a boy in haste for the latest editions. The boy
+returned and spread them out on the desk before him.
+
+Again the telephone rang. This time it was the clergyman who had
+participated in the conference.
+
+"Do you know that Mary Randall is out in a statement that she knows full
+details of what she calls the plot that resulted in the liberation of
+Martin Druce?" he demanded. "She says she will give the whole thing to
+the newspapers later. They are calling it in the streets below my study
+window now. Can't something be done to head off that statement?"
+
+"What would you suggest? Why don't you see some of the editors?" Boland
+returned.
+
+"Oh, that's impossible. My dear Boland, think of me. If my name should be
+published in this connection my reputation would be ruined."
+
+Boland laughed savagely into the telephone and hung up the receiver, only
+to lift it again and hear another appeal for help, this from the
+publisher. He also feared ruin.
+
+Another call. The politician whose power in a great political party was a
+by-word was barking at the other end of the wire. He accused Boland of
+destroying him.
+
+"You've destroyed us," he yelped. "We're ruined. You've blundered."
+
+Boland was beyond speech by this time. He seized his hat and rushed out
+into the street. Everywhere boys were shouting the extras. Several people
+who recognized him as he passed paused to look after him curiously. He
+walked directly to his club.
+
+A few men gathered there reading newspapers paused to look after him
+curiously, bowed coldly and at once resumed reading. Others seemed to
+avoid him. Boland felt that the newspapers' conspicuous comment on a
+certain financial magnate prominent in the electrical world in connection
+with the vice-scandal pointed at him too plainly for any one in Chicago
+to misunderstand.
+
+He called his car and drove to his lonely home.
+
+That night John Boland had a strange vision. He saw an eternity of pain
+and everlasting darkness. Through it the nightmare of his past life in
+strangely terrifying pictures passed before his mind.
+
+Scenes of his boyhood, the panorama of his young manhood, pictures of his
+battle for success against overwhelming forces in the great city. These
+pictures returned again and again, vivid in their relief. He saw again
+the death of his wife and the spirit of darkness that had then come to
+walk beside him, taunting him that now he was of necessity a cold,
+calculating, lonely, indomitable man, not knowing how to give to his only
+son fatherly tenderness.
+
+This phase passed. He seemed to enter into a larger world full of
+terrifying monsters, all of human form. One he recognized as Druce,
+another as Anson, a third as the senator whose seat he had helped to get.
+And with them came a host of smaller figures, some struggling for life,
+and being crushed down into oblivion under his inexorable progress, some
+fighting with one another lest they too be torn down and crushed before
+him.
+
+There were piteous girl faces and worn kindly faces of women and men and
+these had gone down before the others because they had not the power of
+resistance needed in this battle. It was a great whirling nightmare of
+continuous struggle.
+
+And always walking by his side and seeming to grow stronger and more
+terrible as he tore his path through every obstacle strode his guide, the
+spirit of darkness.
+
+At last they were alone, he and the spirit. And the spirit turned upon
+him and clutched him by the throat. He struggled in that grasp just as
+others had struggled in his own grasp, tortured and futile. And again
+those words from Grogan:
+
+_"You can't beat Nature and you can't beat God!"_
+
+Sweat stood out on John Boland's forehead.
+
+He awoke with a mighty effort and sat upright. Around him was the
+emptiness and loneliness of the great bed-chamber. He saw with eyes wide
+open and brain alert a picture that looked like a reality and not a
+vision.
+
+It was of a trembling man bent with age and loneliness.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXIX
+
+                          THE CALL OF ETERNITY
+
+
+Elsie walked on and on eastward towards the lake. For a week she had been
+living alone in a room she had found near the park on the night that she
+left Harvey Spencer, telephoning in the drug-store. She had resolved that
+instant to go. It was to be "Now or never"--and she hurried away in an
+opposite direction from the hiding place--and from Druce.
+
+The little money that he had put in her hands for drugs had somehow
+lasted her until now. She had been too ill to go out, her body racked
+with fever.
+
+She was conscious that she must tomorrow find some work to do, for the
+landlady had twice asked her for the next week's rent. She looked in at
+the door of a laundry where a German woman was singing as she ironed
+children's dresses by the light of a flaring gas jet. It looked pleasant
+and peaceful in there. Perhaps that motherly woman would let her work
+with her. She would see tomorrow.
+
+Elsie walked on towards the lake. She wanted to look at the water. She
+wanted to breathe the cool breath of great winds coming over the water to
+cool this fierce fire of shame and horror fevering her soul, flaming in
+her delicate cheeks.
+
+Elsie came to the lake front at a wide high lot between two comfortable
+mansions on Sheridan Road.
+
+Lights of homes shone through the night's darkness. Beams as of sunshine
+danced across the water.
+
+A light from an upper chamber in the nearest home shone across her and
+streamed onward to the sands.
+
+Elsie stood clasping and unclasping her little slender hands. The
+waters,--they could wash away that blow, the marks of that blow, wash
+away those words threatening death from one who had killed something in
+her heart. She realized that she was not afraid, facing the life to come.
+
+She was afraid only to go on living in the same world with one who had
+taken her girlhood and her womanhood, afraid only of this frightful fever
+in her veins, of this poison that was consuming her.
+
+Out yonder were the cool deeps of death--of death? What then? Far across
+the waves she saw a light.
+
+It was as if her spirit went to meet the light, went in quest of the
+meaning of such a beacon light across black waters.
+
+The light seemed to grow bigger and bigger as she gazed. By flinging her
+frail body into the dreadful surges could one reach peace and safety?
+
+Faintly her spirit heard the answer of the pursuing hound of heaven,
+faintly she heard the call of eternity and of the Eternal Love.
+
+The great black billows called to her. Elsie wondered what all the poor
+girls the waves toss up along the shores say to their Maker. She seemed
+to feel with them as she stood there, how the waves seize the bodies of
+the lost,--how the undertow takes them. Elsie put her hands to her face.
+
+"Why am I here alone in the night?" she heard herself asking. Her voice
+sounded strangely familiar, yet unfamiliar as if some one were speaking
+to her. Then she knew that the voice was her own soul in the silence.
+
+"Mother will forgive me, mother wants me back, mother will help me get
+well--if there is any health in me. Mother knows that it wasn't all my
+fault--" her thought defended her against that voice.
+
+"Why am I here alone in the night?" the question was repeated.
+
+"I will go home. I will begin again. Men begin again. Oh!..." A sob came
+from her lips.... "No, no, no!"
+
+She felt with every nerve of her quivering being that in the slow upward
+climb of sex towards true love and true parenthood woman's battle is
+man's,--felt that God and Nature are now demanding not less of men.
+
+The suffering girl could not put her certainty into words, but in her
+body and in her soul she knew--she knew.
+
+Suddenly from the opened window of the nearest home she heard above the
+wind the cry of a baby, the loud, sweet, prolonged, fiercely-demanding
+cry of a hungry little baby.
+
+A wistful smile twisted her lips as she listened.
+
+Suddenly as the baby's cry was stopped she put her hands to her bosom and
+a strange lovely light shone on her face.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XXX
+
+                          AT THE WEDDING FEAST
+
+
+Brightly shone the sunshine on the fields and woods surrounding Millville
+and on the little house where Mrs. Welcome was busy putting the last
+touches to the order and sweetness of home.
+
+Patience and her husband were coming on the noon train.
+
+Later in the day a few of their friends had promised to come to the
+supper for which her mother had been making loaves of delicious cake.
+
+"It is strange, strange that my child should be the wife of John Boland's
+son," she mused. "I wonder what my poor man would say. Would he feel less
+bitter if he could know that Boland sent me all that money, with that
+letter 'as justice to Tom Welcome's widow?' Patience and Harry are so
+happy now it makes me feel like wanting to forget the past. If only I
+could know where my baby girl is. But I just must go on trusting. Somehow
+I feel hopeful. Patience and Harry want me to be brave. Harry's
+father--he must find it hard to be brave too. He must be lonesome,
+estranged from his son, no one to comfort him. Perhaps he sent me that
+money really as a sign to Harry that he wants to be friends again. I
+won't say anything to Harry about it just yet, but maybe some of these
+days...." The direct train of her thought was interrupted by the sound of
+a bird singing on the bough of a tree close by the opened window.
+
+She stepped out into the side porch and looked about her with a glance of
+pleasure in the neatness and charm of the little place. House and fence
+had been painted and mended, put in tidy order. A new gate and a cement
+sidewalk in front running down to the corner of the street spoke for the
+industry of Harvey Spencer who had worked like a son for her in his spare
+hours.
+
+The song of the bird in the elm bough had dropped to a happy twittering.
+The fragrance of late garden blossoms filled the air. At the end of the
+deep yard, beyond the vegetable garden and close to the back gate Harvey
+had built a pretty summer house and over it a madeira vine hung its
+abundant quick growing wreaths of green.
+
+Mrs. Welcome in her light summer dress, her gray hair moved a trifle by
+the soft warm breeze, walked slowly down the garden path and sat down for
+a few moments of rest in this quiet spot. A sudden sadness came upon her
+face as almost always these months since her home coming when she rested
+from her working.
+
+But she rose resolutely and banished the thought.
+
+"Today is my oldest daughter's day. I must think of nobody but Patience
+and make her coming home with her husband as glad as can be."
+
+She spoke aloud, to make her resolution stronger and walked back towards
+the house, gathering nasturtiums and asparagus as she went, to decorate
+the fresh and pretty parlor, with its new white muslin curtains and wall
+paper and the piano which Harry Boland had sent.
+
+"It's perfectly lovely, mother," Patience was saying to her in this room
+within the hour, Patience whom everybody in Millville loved, standing
+radiant and happy beside her equally radiant bridegroom. "How did you
+ever get those flowers to trail over that picture as if they just grew
+there?"
+
+"You're a great success as a decorator, and we can't begin to thank you
+enough," said Harry Boland. "I think Patience and I are in great luck
+that we can make our home with you. It's all settled that I'm to have
+that office opposite the court-house, going to buy and sell real estate
+and work up a regular business."
+
+"Yes, and mother, Harry finds that a whole lot of these cottages the mill
+people live in are really his own, from his mother's estate directly to
+him. He's going to put them all in decent order."
+
+"Do you remember Michael Grogan? He is going to help us do things in
+Millville. He has promised to build us a club house and dance hall, a
+social center for the mill young people if you and Patience will help run
+it."
+
+"That's fine. Young folks need their fun," responded Mrs. Welcome
+heartily. "Come along, Patey dear, and see the cakes mother has been
+baking for you and Harry."
+
+Mary Randall and Michael Grogan, Harvey Spencer and his sister and
+brother-in-law were the five guests who assembled in the late afternoon
+to honor the home-coming of Mr. and Mrs. Harry Boland.
+
+Michael Grogan came first, arriving in a carriage of the hack type from
+the station. He brought a huge bouquet of roses for the bride and a case
+of grape-juice for the cheer of the festivity.
+
+At supper he proposed the health of the young pair.
+
+"May they always live happy ever after," said Grogan, standing up, glass
+in hand. "May they never have any troubles that they can't nip in the
+bud. As their principles demand of 'em to drink this stuff as the pure
+juice of the grape, may it be blessed to 'em forever and to their
+descendants."
+
+Every body laughed and drank. Harry Boland toasted him in return:
+
+"Here's the health of our very good friend, Mr. Michael Grogan. May all
+his mornings be golden and all his sunsets clear."
+
+"Thanks for the sunrises in particular," said Grogan. "Now ladies and
+gentlemen I wish to toast the good health of another young lady who is
+with us today, one who has made me a great deal of trouble and scared me
+blue with blue envelopes. May she soon find a bridegroom for herself, one
+of them brave lads who can talk right back to her as I never could when
+she tackled this old man!" He lifted his grape-juice with a great
+flourish. "Here's to herself, Miss Mary Randall!"
+
+Miss Randall blushed and nodded her thanks.
+
+"Speech, speech," demanded Grogan.
+
+"Thank you, thank you but I just can't, not here, not now," she said and
+quiet fell upon them.
+
+The thoughts of all were with the young girl who had disappeared, for
+whom all had worked, suffered, prayed.
+
+"I do want to say," Miss Randall, broke the silence, "that you all must
+know how glad I am that Mr. and Mrs. Harry Boland are to have a useful
+and happy life together and that I...." She stopped suddenly, looking out
+the opened door that led towards the garden, her whole expression
+changing, her lips parting, her breath coming quickly.
+
+"What did you see out there?" asked Harvey Spencer, with the sharp
+intentness which he had learned from his maturing city experience.
+
+"Now constable, don't get excited," chaffed Grogan, to whose aid Harvey's
+quick rise to prominence and office was in part due. "We don't want to be
+catching any burglars this happy day."
+
+"What is it?" asked Patience Boland, rising.
+
+"I--I don't know, to be really certain." Mary looked at Mrs. Welcome.
+"Somebody came in at the back gate and went into the summer-house."
+
+Mrs. Welcome leaned heavily on the table.
+
+Harvey ran to the window. Grogan looked over his shoulder.
+
+"Oh, Miss Randall, please go out and see." Patience's arms were already
+about her mother. "Mumsey, mumsey, can it be?"
+
+Mary went out into the porch and down the garden path.
+
+It was Elsie Welcome who came out of the summer-house and slowly along
+between the flower borders. She was shockingly emaciated. She stopped and
+put her suit case down on the ground; its weight seemed too great for her
+spent strength.
+
+Mary ran to her.
+
+Elsie looked at her with sorrowful dark eyes.
+
+"I am afraid to go in," she said.
+
+"I hear people in there talking and laughing."
+
+"They are all friends of yours."
+
+"Is my mother--will my mother...?"
+
+"Child, your mother's heart is breaking for the sight of you."
+
+Elsie ran forward to the doorway of the familiar room. A step forward.
+Mother and daughter stood in a tender embrace.
+
+The mother's face was radiant with great warmth of love. Patience rushed
+to her sister and clasped her close.
+
+Michael Grogan had led a tiptoe retreat of the visitors leaving mother
+and daughters alone, but Patience called them back.
+
+Elsie, smiling wanly, slipped like a little wraith across and into a
+chair beside her mother, and felt that dear hand clasping hers.
+
+"It's so good to be here with you," she whispered, looking vaguely about
+at the others, then a dreadful fit of coughing seized her and she sank
+exhausted in her mother's arms.
+
+Harvey helped carry her into the little room off the parlor.
+
+"You dear little thing, all you need is lots of fresh eggs and your ma's
+nursing to set you up again," he said to her.
+
+"Yes, Harvey, she is feeling very ill now, but we will all help her get
+well," said Patience, as they went out of the room together, leaving
+Elsie to rest in her mother's care.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXXI
+
+                         WITH THE ROSES OF LOVE
+
+
+Mrs. Welcome came into the little bedroom very quietly one afternoon
+about a week later, in her hands a large glass bowl overflowing with
+roses.
+
+She put it down on the table beside the bed and stood looking wistfully
+at the small dark head on the pillow.
+
+Elsie felt her there, opened her eyes and smiled as she saw the flowers.
+A deeper color burned for a moment in her cheeks.
+
+"Poor Harvey," she said. "Isn't he a dear, mamma?"
+
+"He always thought the world and all of you," Mrs. Welcome sighed.
+
+"I always liked him, but I never did love him, you know. I just let him
+come to see me because he wanted to, and all the girls had company."
+
+"You might have loved him dearie if--if--"
+
+"If I hadn't gone away, you mean, but I did go away." Elsie coughed
+violently.
+
+"There, there, sweet, don't." Her mother helped her to sit up and held
+her in her arms.
+
+"Harvey comes every day to ask how you are," said Mrs. Welcome when she
+was better. "He wants to see you when you feel able."
+
+Elsie remained silent.
+
+Out in the parlor they could hear Patience moving about, putting things
+in order, singing as she worked one of the songs she and Elsie used to
+sing when they were little girls.
+
+"Young Mrs. Boland is some singer," said Elsie with a flash of her old
+fun. "Isn't it nice for our Patey to be so happy?"
+
+"She and I want you to be happy too, and you will when you get well, my
+precious. You will laugh and sing as you used to."
+
+"Mamma, I see through you," said Elsie. "I bet Harvey is here now. He
+brought these roses himself. He coaxed you to coax me to see him. All
+right. Shake up my pillows. Get Patey's pink boudoir cap and put your
+pink shawl around me and bring him in."
+
+Her pallor was more marked by the bright cap and shawl and the flame in
+her cheeks seemed scarlet.
+
+"Hello, Harvey," she greeted him almost in her old bright voice. "Thank
+you for the roses. They're--"
+
+A violent coughing made it impossible for Elsie to finish speaking.
+
+He came and stood beside her and took her hot little outstretched hand.
+
+"You're so pretty and I'm so glad you let me come in," he said gently.
+
+"Oh, Harvey, I'm the one that's glad," said Elsie, trying to speak
+brightly. She laid back on the pillow. The effort to talk exhausted her.
+
+Harvey knelt down beside the bed so that his face was almost on a level
+with hers.
+
+"I don't want you to get tired, dear," he said. "I just want you to rest
+and get well. Rest now!" He put his hand tenderly on her hot forehead.
+
+"How cool your hand feels," she murmured. "Put it over my eyes. They burn
+so."
+
+He obeyed her and they remained quiet for many minutes; through their
+hearts went many thoughts.
+
+She moved slightly. He understood, removed his hand and waited.
+
+When Elsie opened her eyes she looked directly into his kind eyes filled
+with grief and love.
+
+"You mustn't be so sorry for me, Harvey," she whispered.
+
+"You will be better soon, and then--remember, little dear, I still have
+the wedding ring."
+
+Elsie sighed. "Poor old Harvey! There never was anybody so good as you
+are to me."
+
+"I love you."
+
+She patted his cheek. "It's so good of you to go on caring about me."
+
+"I couldn't stop if I wanted to,--and I don't want to."
+
+She put her thin arm about his neck. "Will you do something for me?"
+
+"Anything on earth!"
+
+A wan little funny gleam lighted her pretty dark eyes.
+
+"This is on earth, all right. I'll tell you about it next time you
+come...." Suddenly Elsie sat up and grasped him. "There will be a next
+time, won't there, Harvey?" she asked him in a wild tone, a wave of
+terror seeming to go over her.
+
+He held her gently.
+
+"Don't be frightened, dear. Of course there is going to be a next time
+... all the rest of our lives. You didn't think even for a minute that I
+would go back on you, did you, Elsie?"
+
+She smiled and released herself, then smiled again. "No, no, I didn't
+mean that. Take a chair, Harvey, and tell me about the weather."
+
+Harvey took the chair and once more possessed himself of her hand.
+
+She smiled sweetly.
+
+"Now let me ask you a favor. Let's name the day, Elsie," he said.
+"Promise to marry me,--as soon as you get well."
+
+"When--I--get--well," Elsie looked wonderingly at him. She saw his
+passionate earnestness, his need of hope. Hope! It was fast fainting in
+her heart. "Yes, Harvey,--when I get well."
+
+He bent over her and with deep tenderness kissed her.
+
+Violent coughing seized her. It was the worst, the most prolonged Elsie
+had yet had. One spasm followed another, bringing her mother with
+remedies.
+
+Harvey moved frantically about; he was the first to suggest the doctor
+and ran out to bring one. He did not realize, he could not know what had
+really happened.
+
+When he returned Elsie had fallen asleep and the physician advised them
+not to waken her, promising to call early in the morning. The faithful
+Harvey went with him. He had her answer, "when I get well," she said.
+
+Elsie remained until nearly day-break in a very deep sleep. The fever
+left her during this long repose. Her sister, who was watching beside
+her, thought she was better because her forehead grew damp and cool.
+
+With the first early light of morning Elsie opened her eyes.
+
+Patience pushed back the pretty tendrils of her dark hair. "It's sister
+watching with you, dear," she said.
+
+"Where's mother?" murmured Elsie in a voice so weak that it frightened
+Patience.
+
+"Mother! mother! Please come!" she called.
+
+"She's coming," answered Patience as Mrs. Welcome came hurrying to the
+bedside.
+
+She understood without a word, lifting Elsie in her arms, the frail
+little worn body against her heart. Tears streamed down her face; sobs
+shook her body.
+
+Patience hurried weeping to summon Harry.
+
+"Don't cry, Mother," moaned Elsie. "I am so glad I am home with you."
+
+"Yes, Elsie, yes."
+
+"I would have come long ago, but I didn't dare--so many girls never dare
+go home. Some of their mothers don't want them, but you--. Mother--"
+
+"Yes my darling, yes!"
+
+"I was afraid, so afraid. I went--and--looked--at the--lake." She seemed
+to her mother to wander a bit.
+
+Her breathing became difficult. No more words came. A few quick
+fluttering breaths--Elsie was gone.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXXII
+
+                      AT MARY RANDALL'S SUMMER HOME
+
+
+Lake Geneva season was at its close. Most of the lake dwellers had closed
+their houses and returned to town. For those who remained late autumn had
+her glories. Woods and groves were gay in foliage. Orchards bowed their
+heads beneath their loads of ripened fruit. In shorn fields the birds,
+preparing for southern migration, sang of a year crowned with plenty.
+
+Vines hung deep about the broad veranda of the villa where Mary Randall
+was resting from her labors in the company of her uncle and aunt. She sat
+alone in a corner of the veranda one sunny day, waiting for the arrival
+of the journalist Ambrose, one of her most efficient aids.
+
+Anna, her faithful maid came with an armful of flowers and began
+arranging them on the table.
+
+"You love those old-fashioned flowers even more than I do, I believe,
+Anna," said Miss Randall.
+
+"I do love them. They seem like the blossom of my vacation," said Anna.
+
+"That's a pretty way to put it. Your vacation is to be a good long one.
+You have certainly earned it. You're as worn as I am, after our battle. I
+never should have got through it without you."
+
+"Thank you, Miss Mary. Here comes the flower of all your workers,--Mr.
+Ambrose," said the girl, and withdrew.
+
+"Good news," said the journalist cheerfully, coming to greet his friend,
+and noting with a sudden swift pleasure that a faint blush came to her
+cheeks and a new light to her eyes as she welcomed him. "Good news! As I
+was coming away the newspapers were out with the extra. The city council
+held a special meeting during the afternoon. They have abolished the
+segregated district. The city has formally adopted the policy of
+suppressing instead of circumscribing vice."
+
+"That is the beginning of the end," said Miss Randall. "If our campaign
+has won that we have won all I hoped for."
+
+"Yet many people believe that we failed."
+
+"Even if we had failed we should have made progress. Every movement of
+this kind leaves its mark on the public conscience. It makes work easier
+for other crusaders."
+
+"Yes," responded Ambrose, "because it brings out the facts. Facts are
+lasting. They cannot die."
+
+"Progress comes through inculcation of these facts, by means of
+education. Schools and churches--and parents--must concentrate on the
+moral improvement of the rising generation, or we wrestle ineffectively."
+
+"The kind of vice you have been specially fighting will be extinct within
+the next ten years," said Ambrose. "I don't mean that we shall have
+suppressed vice. That is a task for centuries. But our people in the
+United States will not stand for this trade in girls."
+
+"I'd like to preach to men who have daughters to protect to take their
+wives and go out and see some of the shady places of the city for
+themselves. It would make any mother far more careful in future about the
+companions of their daughters."
+
+"Yes, to whisper about 'wild oats' and to see a young man who wants to
+marry one's daughter in a dive are two very different things."
+
+"We are going to have vice," said Miss Randall, "as long as economic
+conditions set the stage for it. A young girl housed in a poor tenement,
+ill-lighted, poorly heated, badly ventilated, fed and clothed
+insufficiently--see to it that she hears foul language, and witnesses
+drunkenness and quarrelling--then you have the condition that produces
+the delinquent city girl."
+
+"We are attacking all those evils," said Ambrose. "The public conscience
+is rising against them. I predict the time when it will be regarded as
+great a disgrace for a city to possess a 'back of the yards,' a ghetto or
+a slum tenement district as it is now to have a district organized for
+the exploitation of women. It's coming. You and I shall see it."
+
+Mary Randall had risen, deeply moved while he spoke. She leaned against
+the trellis and gazed far across the silver-shot lake at the sun sinking,
+a great ball of crimson fire among the dark trees.
+
+"God speed the day!" she said.
+
+Beyond the veranda in a darkened drawing-room Mary Randall's aunt had
+been resting and had heard this conversation. She rose and went softly
+away and out to a pergola where she found her husband smoking a cigar.
+
+"Lucius," she said. "That young newspaper man who has been out here to
+see Mary is here again. They are talking in the veranda, settling all the
+problems of Chicago!"
+
+Lucius Randall blew a cloud of smoke. "Well, my dear, that is the only
+way this old world gets ahead, for each generation to tackle its problems
+anew."
+
+"I believe that young man likes Mary."
+
+"Many young men do."
+
+"But--I really believe Mary likes him. She talks to him with a sweet note
+in her voice, even when they are discussing the most impossible
+subjects."
+
+"I shouldn't wonder," said Lucius Randall with much serenity.
+
+
+
+
+                                AFTERWORD
+
+
+In our modern crusade against that most ancient evil known as the white
+slave traffic we have made at least one serious advance. All over the
+world that conspiracy of silence which has fettered thought and prevented
+open action in the fight is ended.
+
+Nowadays, as Havelock Ellis, author of the famous "Psychology of Sex,"
+says in the _Metropolitan_ discussion of this subject, "churches,
+societies, journalist, legislators, have all joined the ranks of the
+agitators. Not only has there been no voice on the opposite side, which
+was scarcely to be expected--for there has never been any anxiety to cry
+aloud in defense of 'white slavery' from the housetops--but there has
+been a new and noteworthy conquest over indifference and over that sacred
+silence which was supposed to encompass all sexual topics with suitable
+darkness. The banishment of that silence in the cause of social hygiene
+is, indeed, not the least significant feature of this agitation. * * *
+
+"By insuring that our workers, and especially our women workers, are
+decently paid, so that they can live comfortably on their wages, we shall
+not, indeed, have abolished prostitution, which is more than an economic
+phenomenon, but we shall more effectually check the white slave trader
+than by the most Draconic legislation the most imaginative vice crusader
+ever devised. And when we insure that these same workers have ample time
+and opportunity for free and joyous recreation we shall have done more to
+kill the fascination of the white slave traffic than by endless police
+regulations for the moral supervision of the young.
+
+"No doubt the element of human nature in the manifestations we are
+concerned with will still be at work, an obscure instinct often acting
+differently in each sex, but tending to drive both into the same risks.
+Here we need even more fundamental social changes. It is sheer
+foolishness to suppose that when we raise our little dams in the path of
+a great stream of human impulse that stream will forthwith flow calmly
+back to its source. We must make our new channels concurrently with our
+dams. We can at least begin today a task of education which must slowly
+though surely undermine the white slave trader's stronghold. Such an
+education needs to be not merely instruction in the facts of sex and wise
+guidance concerning all the dangers and risks of the sexual life; it must
+also involve a training of the will, a development of the sense of
+responsibility, such as can never be secured by shutting our young people
+up in a hothouse, sheltered from every fortifying breath of the outside
+world."
+
+It was in Illinois that Abraham Lincoln--a Southerner, Kentucky
+born--threw down the gage in his famous Bloomington speech in the matter
+of buying and selling human beings as slaves. It is in Illinois--in spite
+of much disgrace which the State's fair name has had forced upon it--that
+men and women have enlisted for life to fight in the battle against
+buying and selling white girls, to fight against that special dealing in
+"live stock" actually known to have gone on for years, which is Chicago's
+special shame as a distributing center.
+
+There is eternal shouting and exhorting against the immorality and vice
+of the levee, but I wonder if it isn't society's hue and cry to divert
+attention from viciousness in what are called "the best circles," a
+condition that is a hundred times more important.
+
+Will the churches be in some measure convinced that they must organize
+for a combined effort to save the children of today--that souls are more
+important than sectarianism, and that Sunday is not the only day in the
+week?
+
+If every unmarried woman with money and time at her disposal were to
+devote part of her leisure to the care of one child there would be far
+less misery in the slums and many a little sister would be saved.
+
+If there is to be any effective reform we must arouse society from its
+lethargic viewpoint too generally accepted that the devil is never so
+black as he is painted.
+
+As long as mothers do not know who the young men are with whom their
+daughters spend evenings away from home so long will there be the troop
+of Little Lost Sisters tripping, stumbling down the trail that leads
+hellward.
+
+Let us make the war against commercialized vice a bigger thing than a
+presidential campaign, bigger than any war, bigger than anything that was
+ever known in a woman's movement before in the world!
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Lost Sister, by Virginia Brooks
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