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diff --git a/25772.txt b/25772.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8376cd6 --- /dev/null +++ b/25772.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8271 @@ +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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE LOST SISTER *** + +***** This file should be named 25772.txt or 25772.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/7/7/25772/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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