diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29453-8.txt | 8020 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29453-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 143029 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29453-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 450604 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29453-h/29453-h.htm | 11943 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29453-h/images/img-108.jpg | bin | 0 -> 54268 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29453-h/images/img-196.jpg | bin | 0 -> 52564 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29453-h/images/img-227.jpg | bin | 0 -> 49295 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29453-h/images/img-233.jpg | bin | 0 -> 53559 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29453-h/images/img-282.jpg | bin | 0 -> 49747 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29453-h/images/img-front.jpg | bin | 0 -> 43515 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29453.txt | 8020 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29453.zip | bin | 0 -> 142988 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
15 files changed, 27999 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/29453-8.txt b/29453-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..659ac7a --- /dev/null +++ b/29453-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8020 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Traffic in Souls, by Eustace Hale Ball + +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: Traffic in Souls + A Novel of Crime and Its Cure + +Author: Eustace Hale Ball + +Release Date: July 19, 2009 [EBook #29453] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRAFFIC IN SOULS *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: If ever prayer came from the depths of a broken heart, +it was that forlorn plea for the lost sister.] + + + + + +TRAFFIC IN SOULS + +_A Novel of Crime and Its Cure_ + + + +BY + +EUSTACE HALE BALL + + + + _ILLUSTRATIONS FROM SCENES + IN THE PHOTO-PLAY_ + + + + +G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY + +PUBLISHERS ---- NEW YORK + + + + +COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY + +G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY + + + +_Traffic in Souls_ + +_This novel is based in part upon the scenario of the photo-drama of +the same name written by Walter MacNamara and produced by the UNIVERSAL +FILM MANUFACTURING COMPANY, New York City. The incidents and +characterisations are founded upon stories of real life. Actual scenes +of the underworld haunts are faithfully reproduced. The criminal +methods of the traffickers are substantiated by the reports of the John +D. Rockefeller, Jr., Investigating Committee for the Suppression of +Vice, and District Attorney Whitman's White Slave Report._ + + + + +Press of + +J. J. Little & Ives Co. + +New York + + + + + TO + THAT FEARLESS AMERICAN CITIZEN + AND STERLING PUBLIC OFFICIAL, + CHARLES S. WHITMAN, + DISTRICT ATTORNEY FOR THE BOROUGH + OF MANHATTAN, IN THE CITY OF NEW YORK, + THIS BOOK IS ADMIRINGLY DEDICATED. + E. H. B. + + + + + + "_What has man done here? How atone, + Great God, for this which man has done? + And for the body and soul which by + Man's pitiless doom must now comply + With lifelong hell, what lullaby + Of sweet forgetful second birth + Remains? All dark. No sign on earth + What measure of God's rest endows + The Many mansions of His house._ + + "_If but a woman's heart might see + Such erring heart unerringly + For once! But that can never be._ + + "_Like a rose shut in a book + In which pure women may not look, + For its base pages claim control + To crush the flower within the soul; + Where through each dead roseleaf that clings, + Pale as transparent psyche-wings, + To the vile text, are traced such things + As might make lady's cheek indeed + More than a living rose to read; + So nought save foolish foulness may + Watch with hard eyes the sure decay; + And so the lifeblood of this rose, + Puddled with shameful knowledge flows + Through leaves no chaste hand may unclose; + Yet still it keeps such faded show + Of when 'twas gathered long ago, + That the crushed petals' lovely grain, + The sweetness of the sanguine stain, + Seen of a woman's eyes must make + Her pitiful heart, so prone to ache, + Love roses better for its sake:-- + Only that this can never be:-- + Even so unto her sex is she!_ + + "_Yet, Jenny, looking long at you, + The woman almost fades from view. + A cipher of man's changeless sum + Of lust, past, present, and to come, + Is left. A riddle that one shrinks + To challenge from the scornful sphinx._ + + "_Like a toad within a stone + Seated while Time crumbles on; + Which sits there since the earth was curs'd + For Man's transgression at the first; + Which, living through all centuries, + Not once has seen the sun arise; + Whose life, to its cold circle charmed, + The earth's whole summers have not warmed; + Which always--whitherso the stone + Be flung--sits there, deaf, blind, alone;-- + Aye, and shall not be driven out + 'Till that which shuts him round about + Break at the very Master's stroke, + And the dust thereof vanished as smoke, + And the seed of Man vanished as dust:-- + Even so within this world is Lust!_" + + --From "Jenny," by Dante Gabriel Rosetti. + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + I. NIGHT COURT + II. WHEN LOVE COMES VISITING + III. THE TRAIL OF THE SERPENT + IV. WHAT THE DOCTOR SAID + V. ROSES AND THORNS + VI. THE WORK OF THE GANGSTERS + VII. THE CLOSER BOND + VIII. THE PURITY LEAGUE AND ITS ANGEL + IX. THE BUSY MART OF TRADE + X. WHEN THE TRAIN COMES IN + XI. THE POISONED NEEDLE + XII. THE REVENGE OF JIMMIE THE MONK + XIII. LORNA'S QUEST FOR PLEASURE + XIV. CHARITY AND THE MULTITUDE OF SINS + XV. THE FINISH + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +If ever prayer came from the depths of a broken heart, it was that +forlorn plea for a lost sister . . . . . . _Frontispiece_ + +"This is my friend, Sam Shepard, the theatrical manager, Miss Lorna. +He's the man who can get you on the stage" + +"I'm going to shoot to kill. Every court in the state will sustain a +policeman who shoots a white-slaver" + +The deep tones of the stranger's voice filled Mary with a thrill of +loathing + +Father and daughter were frantic with grief + +The pretended philanthropist was cornered at last + + + + +TRAFFIC IN SOULS + + +CHAPTER I + +NIGHT COURT + +Officer 4434 beat his freezing hands together as he stood with his back +to the snow-laden north-easter, which rattled the creaking signboards +of East Twelfth Street, and covered, with its merciful shroud of wet +flakes, the ash-barrels, dingy stoops, gaudy saloon porticos and other +architectural beauties of the Avenue corner. + +Officer 4434 was on "fixed post." + +This is an institution of the New York police department which makes it +possible for citizens to locate, in time of need, a representative of +the law. At certain street crossings throughout the boroughs bluecoats +are assigned to guard-duty during the night, where they can keep close +watch on the neighboring thoroughfares. The "fixed post" increases the +efficiency of the service, but it is a bitter ordeal on the men. + +Officer 4434 shivered under his great coat. He pulled the storm hood +of his cap closer about his neck as he muttered an opinion, far from +being as cold as the biting blast, concerning the Commissioner who had +installed the system. He had been on duty over an hour, and even his +sturdy young physique was beginning to feel the strain of the Arctic +temperature. + +"I wonder when Maguire is coming to relieve me?" muttered 4434, when +suddenly his mind left the subject, as his keen vision descried two +struggling figures a few yards down the dark side of Twelfth Street. + +There was no outcry for help. But 4434 knew his precinct too well to +wait for that. He quietly walked to the left corner and down toward +the couple. As he neared them the mist of the eddying snowflakes +became less dense; he could discern a short man twisting the arm of a +tall woman, who seemed to be top heavy from an enormous black-plumed +hat. The faces of the twain were still indistinct. The man whirled +the woman about roughly. She uttered a subdued moan of pain, and 4434, +as he softly approached them, his footfalls muffled by the blanket of +white, could hear her pleading in a low tone with the man. + +"Aw, kid, I ain't got none ... I swear I ain't... Oh, oh ... ye know I +wouldn't lie to ye, kid!" + +"Nix, Annie. Out wid it, er I'll bust yer damn arm!" + +"Jimmie, I ain't raised a nickel to-night ... dere ain't even a sailor +out a night like dis... Oh, oh, kid, don't treat me dis way..." + +Her voice died down to a gasp of pain. + +Officer 4434 was within ten feet of the couple by this time. He +recognized the type though not the features of the man, who had now +wrenched the woman's arm behind her so cruelly that she had fallen to +her knees, in the snow. The fellow was so intent upon his quest for +money that he did not observe the approach of the policeman. + +But the woman caught a quick glimpse of the intruder into their +"domestic" affairs. She tried to warn her companion. + +"Jimmie, dere's a..." + +She did not finish, for her companion wished to end further argument +with his own particular repartee. + +He swung viciously with his left arm and brought a hard fist across the +woman's pleading lips. She screamed and sank back limply. + +As she did so, Officer 4434 reached forward with a vise-like grip and +closed his tense fingers about the back of Jimmie's muscular neck. +Holding his night stick in readiness for trouble, with that knack +peculiar to policemen, he yanked the tough backward and threw him to +his knees. Annie sprang to her feet. + +"Lemme go!" gurgled the surprised Jimmie, as he wriggled to get free. +Without a word, the woman who had been suffering from his brutality, +now sprang upon the rescuing policeman with the fury of a lioness +robbed of her cub. She clawed at the bluecoat's face and cursed him +with volubility. + +"I'll git you broke fer this!" groaned Jimmie, as 4434 held him to his +knees, while Annie tried to get her hold on the officer's neck. It was +a temptation to swing the night-stick, according to the laws of war, +and then protect himself against the fury of the frenzied woman. But, +this is an impulse which the policeman is trained to subdue--public +opinion on the subject to the contrary notwithstanding. Officer 4434 +knew the influence of the gangsters with certain politicians, who had +influence with the magistrates, who in turn meted out summary +reprimands and penalties to policemen un-Spartanlike enough to defend +themselves with their legal weapons against the henchmen of the East +Side politicians! + +Annie had managed by no mean pugilistic ability to criss-cross five +painful scratches with her nails, upon the policeman's face, despite +his attempt to guard himself. + +Jimmie, with tactical resourcefulness, had twisted around in such a way +that he delivered a strong-jaw nip on the right leg of the policeman. + +4434 suddenly released his hold on the man's neck, whipped out his +revolver and fired it in the air. He would have used the signal for +help generally available at such a time, striking the night stick upon +the pavement, but the thick snow would have muffled the resonant alarm. + +"Beat it, Annie, and git de gang!" cried out Jimmie as he scrambled to +his feet. The woman sped away obediently, as Officer 4434 closed in +again upon his prisoner. The gangster covered the retreat of the woman +by grappling the policeman with arms and legs. + +The two fell to the pavement, and writhed in their struggle on the snow. + +Jimmie, like many of the gang men, was a local pugilist of no mean +ability. His short stature was equalized in fighting odds by a +tremendous bull strength. 4434, in his heavy overcoat, and with the +storm hood over his head and neck was somewhat handicapped. Even as +they struggled, the efforts of the nimble Annie bore fruit. In +surprisingly brief time a dozen men had rushed out from the neighboring +saloon, and were giving the doughty policeman more trouble than he +could handle. + +Suddenly they ran, however, for down the street came two speeding +figures in the familiar blue coats. One of the officers was shrilly +blowing his whistle for reinforcements. He knew what to expect in a +gang battle and was taking no chances. + +Maguire, who had just come on to relieve 4434, lived up to his duty +most practically by catching the leg of the battling Jimmie, and giving +it a wrestling twist which threw the tough with a thud on the pavement, +clear of his antagonist. + +4434 rose to his feet stiffly, as his rescuers dragged Jimmie to a +standing position. + +"Well, Burke, 'tis a pleasant little party you do be having," +volunteered Maguire. "Sure, and you've been rassling with Jimmie the +Monk. Was he trying to pick yer pockets?" + +"Naw, I wasn't doin' nawthin', an' I'm goin' ter git that rookie broke +fer assaultin' me. I'm goin' ter write a letter to the Mayor!" growled +Jimmie. + +Officer Burke laughed a bit ruefully. + +He mopped some blood off his face, from the nail scratches of Jimmie's +lady associate, and then turned toward the two officers. + +"He didn't pick my pockets--it was just the old story, of beating up +his woman, trying to get the money she made on the street to-night. +When I tried to help her they both turned on me." + +"Faith, Burke, I thought you had more horse sense," responded Maguire. +"That's a dangerous thing to do with married folks, or them as ought to +be married. They'll fight like Kilkenny cats until the good Samaritan +comes along and then they form a trust and beat up the Samaritan." + +"I think most women these days need a little beating up anyway, to keep +'em from worrying about their troubles," volunteered Officer Dexter. +"I'd have been happier if I had learned that in time." + +"Say, nix on dis blarney, youse!" interrupted the Monk, who was trying +to wriggle out of the arm hold of Burke and Maguire. "I ain't gonter +stand fer dis pinch wen I ain't done nawthin." + +A police sergeant, who had heard the whistle as he made his rounds, now +came up. + +"What's the row?" he gruffly exclaimed. Burke explained. The sergeant +shook his head. + +"You're wasting time, Burke, on this sort of stuff. When you've been +on the force a while longer you'll learn that it's the easiest thing to +look the other way when you see these men fighting with their women. +The magistrates won't do a thing on a policeman's word alone. You just +see. Now you've got to go down to Night Court with this man, get a +call down because you haven't got a witness, and this rummie gets set +free. Why, you'd think these magistrates had to apologize for there +being a police force! The papers go on about the brutality of the +police, and the socialists howl about Cossack methods, and the +ministers preach about graft and vice, and the reformers sit in their +mahogany chairs in the skyscraper offices and dictate poems about sin, +and the cops have to walk around and get hell beat out of 'em by these +wops and kikes every time they tries to keep a little order!" + +The sergeant turned to Maguire. + +"You know these gangs around here, Mack. Who's this guy's girl?" + +"He's got three or four, sergeant," responded the officer. "I guess +this one must be Dutch Annie. Was she all dolled up with about a +hundred dollars' worth of ostrich feathers, Burke?" + +"Yes--tall, and some fighter." + +"That's the one. Her hangout is over there on the corner, in +Shultberger's cabaret. We can get her now, maybe." + +The sergeant beckoned to Dexter. + +"Run this guy over to the station house, and put him down on the +blotter for disorderly conduct, and assaulting an officer. You get +onto your post, Maguire, or the Commish'll be shooting past here in a +machine on the way to some ball at the Ritz, and will have us all on +charges. You come with me, Burke, and we'll nab that woman as a +material witness." + +Burke and his superior crossed the street and quickly entered the +ornate portal of Shultberger's cabaret, which was in reality the annex +to his corner barroom. + +As they strode in a waiter stood by a tuneless piano, upon which a +bloated "professor" was beating a tattoo of cheap syncopation +accompaniment of the advantages of "Bobbin' Up An' Down," which was +warbled with that peculiarly raucous, nasal tenor so popular in +Tenderloin resorts. The musical waiter's jaw fell in the middle of a +bob, as he espied the blue uniforms. + +He disappeared behind a swinging door with the professional skill of a +stage magician. + +Sitting around the dilapidated wooden tables was a motley throng of +red-nosed women, loafers, heavy-jowled young aliens, and a scattering +of young girls attired in cheap finery; a prevailing color of chemical +yellow as to hair, and flaming red cheeks and lips. + +Instinctively the gathering rose for escape, but the sergeant strode +forward to one particular table, where sat a girl nursing a bleeding +mouth. + +Burke remained by the door to shut off that exit. + +"Is this the one?" asked the sergeant, as he put his hands on the young +woman's shoulder. + +Burke scrutinized her closely, responding quickly. + +"Yes!" + +"Come on, you," ordered the roundsman. "I want you. Quick!" + +"Say, I ain't done a thing, what do ye want me fer?" whined the girl, +as the sergeant pulled at her sleeve. The officer did not reply, but +he looked menacingly about him at the evil company. + +"If any of you guys starts anything I'm going to call out the reserves. +Come on, Annie." + +The proprietor, Shultberger, now entered from the front, after a +warning from his waiter. + +"Vot's dis, sergeant? Vot you buttin' in my place for? Ain't I in +right?" he cried. + +"Shut up. This girl has been assaulting an officer, and I want her. +Come on, now, or I'll get the wagon here, and then there will be +trouble." + +Annie began to pull back, and it looked as though some of the toughs +would interfere. But Shultberger understood his business. + +"Now, Annie, don't start nottings here. Go on vid de officer. I'll +fix it up all right. But I don't vant my place down on de blotter. +Who vas it--Jimmie?" + +The girl began to cry, and gulped the glass of whiskey on the table as +she finally yielded to the tug of the sergeant. + +"Yes, it's Jimmie. An' he wasn't doin' a ting. Dese rookies is always +makin' trouble fer me." + +She sobbed hysterically as the sergeant walked her out. Shultberger +patted her on the shoulder reassuringly. + +"Dot's all right, Annie. I vouldn't let nodding happen to Jimmie. +I'll bail him out and you too. Go along; dot's a good girl." He +turned to his guests, and motioned to them to be silent. + +The "professor," at the piano, used to such scenes, lulled the nerves +of the company with a rag-time variation of "Oh, You Beautiful Doll," +and Burke, the sergeant and Annie went out into the night. + +The girl was taken to the station. The lieutenant looked questioningly +at Officer 4434. + +"Want to put her down for assault?" he asked. + +Burke looked at the unhappy creature. Her hair was half-down her back, +and her lips swollen and bleeding from Jimmie's brutal blow. The cheap +rouge on her face; the heavy pencilling of her brows, the crudely +applied blue and black grease paint about her eyes, the tawdry paste +necklace around her powdered throat; the pitifully thin silk dress in +which she had braved the elements for a few miserable dollars: all +these brought tears to the eyes of the young officer. + +He was sick at heart. + +The girl shivered and sobbed in that hysterical manner which indicates +weakness, emptiness, lack of soul--rather than sorrow. + +"Poor thing--I couldn't do it. I don't want to see her sent to +Blackwell's Island. She's getting enough punishment every day--and +every night." + +"Well, she's made your face look like a railroad map. You're too soft, +young fellow. I'll put her down as a material witness. Go wash that +blood off, and we'll send 'em both down to Night Court. You've done +yourself out of your relief butting in this way. Take a tip from me, +and let these rummies fight it out among themselves after this as long +as they don't mix up with somebody worth while." + +Burke wiped his eye with the back of his cold hand. It was not snow +which had melted there. He was young enough in the police service to +feel the pathos of even such common situations as this. + +He turned quietly and went back to the washstand in the rear room of +the station. The reserves were sitting about, playing checkers and +cards. Some were reading. + +Half a dozen of the men, fond of the young policeman, chatted with him, +and volunteered advice, to which Burke had no reply. + +"Don't start in mixing up with the Gas Tank Gang over one of those +girls, Burke, for they're not worth it." + +"You'll have enough to do in this precinct to look after your own skin, +and round up the street holdups, or get singed at a tenement fire." + +And so it went. + +The worldly wisdom of his fellows was far from encouraging. Yet, +despite their cynical expressions, Burke knew that warm hearts and +gallant chivalry were lodged beneath the brass buttons. + +There is a current notion among the millions of Americans who do not +know, and who have fortunately for themselves not been in the position +where they needed to know, that the policemen of New York are an +organized body of tyrannical, lying grafters who maintain their power +by secret societies, official connivance and criminal brute force. + +Taken by and large, there is no fighting organization in any army in +the world which can compare with the New York police force for physical +equipment, quick action under orders or upon the initiative required by +emergencies, gallantry or _esprit de corps_. For salaries barely equal +to those of poorly paid clerks or teamsters, these men risk their lives +daily, must face death at any moment, and are held under a discipline +no less rigorous than that of the regular army. Their problems are +more complex than those of any soldiery; they deal with fifty different +nationalities, and are forced by circumstances to act as judge and +jury, as firemen, as life savers, as directories, as arbiters of +neighborhood squabbles and domestic wrangles. Their greatest services +are rendered in the majority of cases which never call for arrest and +prosecution. That there are many instances of petty "graft," and that, +in some cases, the "middle men" prey on the underworld cannot be denied. + +But it is the case against a certain policeman which receives the +attention of the newspapers and the condemnation of the public, while +almost unheeded are scores of heroic deeds which receive bare mention +in the daily press. For the misdeed of one bad policeman the gallantry +and self-sacrifice of a hundred pass without appreciation. + +There have been but three recorded instances of cowardice in the annals +of the New York police force. The memory of them still rankles in the +bosom of every member. And yet the performance of duty at the cost of +life and limb is regarded by the uniformed men as merely being "all in +the day's work." The men are anxious to do their duty in every way, +but political, religious, social and commercial influences are +continually erecting stone walls across the path of that duty. + +Superhuman in wisdom, thrice blest in luck is the bluecoat who +conscientiously can live up to his own ideals, carry out the law as +written by his superiors without being sent to "rusticate with the +goats," or being demoted for stepping upon the toes of some of those +same superiors! + +Officer Bobbie Burke betook himself to the Night Court to lodge his +complaint against Jimmie the Monk. The woman, Dutch Annie, sniveling +and sobbing, was lodged in a cell near the gangster before being +brought before the rail to face the magistrate. + +Burke saw that they could not communicate with each other, and so hoped +that he could have his own story accepted by the magistrate. He stood +by the door of the crowded detention room, which opened into a larger +courtroom, where the prisoners were led one by one to the prisoner's +dock--in this case, a hand-rail two feet in front of the long desk of +the judge, while that worthy was seated on a platform which enabled him +to look down at the faces of the arraigned. + +It was an apparently endless procession. + +The class of arrests was monotonous. Three of every four cases were +those of street women who had been arrested by "plain clothes" men or +detectives for solicitation on the street. + +The accusing officer took a chair at the left of the magistrate. The +uniformed attendant handed the magistrate the affidavits of complaint. +The judge mechanically scrawled his name at the bottom of the papers, +glanced at the words of the arraignments, and then scowled over the +edge of his desk at the flashily dressed girls before him. They all +seemed slight variations on the same mould. + +Perhaps one girl would simulate some hysterical sobs, and begin by +protesting her innocence. Another would be hard and indifferent. A +third, indignant. + +"What about this, officer?" the judge would ask. "Where did you see +this woman, what did you say, what did she say, and what happened?" + +The detective, in a voice and manner as mechanical as that of the +judge, would mumble his oft repeated story, giving the exact minute of +his observations, the actions of the woman in accosting different +pedestrians and in her final approach to him. + +"How many times before have you been arrested, girl?" the magistrate +would growl. + +Sometimes the girls would admit the times; in most cases their memories +were defective, until the accusing officer would cite past history. +This girl had been arrested and paroled once before; that one had been +sent to "the Island" for thirty days; the next one was an habitual +offender. It was a tragic monotony. Sometimes the magistrate would +summon the sweet-faced matron to have a talk with some young girl, +evidently a "green one" for whom there might be hope. There was more +kindliness and effort to reform the prisoners behind those piercing +eyes of the judge than one might have supposed to hear him drone out +his judgment: "Thirty days, Molly"; "Ten dollars, Aggie--the Island +next time, sure"; "Five dollars for you, Sadie," and so on. There was +a weary, hopeless look in the magistrate's eyes, had you studied him +close at hand. He knew, better than the reformers, of the horrors of +the social evil, at the very bottom of the cup of sin. Better than +they could he understand the futility of garrulous legislation at the +State Capitol, to be offset by ignorance, avarice, weakness and disease +in the congestion of the big, unwieldy city. When he fined the girls +he knew that it meant only a hungry day, one less silk garment or +perhaps a beating from an angry and disappointed "lover." When he sent +them to the workhouse their activities were merely discontinued for a +while to learn more vileness from companions in their imprisonment; to +make for greater industry--busier vice and quicker disease upon their +return to the streets. The occasional cases in which there was some +chance for regeneration were more welcome to him, even, than to the +weak and sobbing girls, hopeless with the misery of their early +defeats. Yet, the magistrate knew only too well the miserable minimum +of cases which ever resulted in real rescue and removal from the sordid +existence. + +Once as low as the rail of the Night Court--a girl seldom escaped from +the slime into which she had dragged herself. And yet _had_ she +dragged herself there? Was _she_ to blame? Was she to pay the +consequences in the last Reckoning of Accounts? + +This thought came to Officer Bobbie Burke as he watched the horrible +drama drag monotonously through its brief succession of sordid scenes. + +The expression of the magistrate, the same look of sympathetic misery +on the face of the matron, and even on many of the detectives, +automatons who had chanted this same official requiem of dead souls, +years of nights ... not a sombre tone of the gruesome picture was lost +to Burke's keen eyes. + +"Some one has to pay; some one has to pay! I wonder who?" muttered +Officer 4434 under his breath. + +There were cases of a different caliber. Yet Burke could see in them +what Balzac called "social coördination." + +Now a middle-aged woman, with hair unkempt, and hat awry, maudlin tears +in her swollen eyes, and swaying as she held the rail, looked shiftily +up into the magistrate's immobile face. + +"You've been drunk again, Mrs. Rafferty? This is twice during the last +fortnight that I've had you here." + +"Yis, yer honor, an me wid two foine girls left home. Oh, Saint Mary +protect me, an' oi'm a (hic) bad woman. Yer honor, it's the fault of +me old man, Pat. (Hic) Oi'm _not_ a bad woman, yer honor." + +The magistrate was kind as he spoke. + +"And what does Pat do?" + +"He beats me, yer honor (hic), until Oi sneak out to the family +intrance at the corner fer a quiet nip ter fergit it. An' the girls, +they've been supportin' me (hic), an' payin the rint, an' buyin' the +vittles, an' (hic) it's a dog's life they lead, wid all their work. +When they go out wid dacint young min (hic), Pat cusses the young min, +an' beats the girls whin they come home (hic)." + +Here the woman broke down, sobbing, while the attendant kept her from +swaying and falling. + +"There, there, Mrs. Rafferty. I'll suspend sentence this time. But +don't let it happen another time. You have Pat arrested and I'll teach +him something about treating you right." + +"My God, yer honor (hic), the worst of it is it's me two girls--they +ain't got no home, but a drunken din, the next thing I knows they'll be +arristed (hic) and brought up before ye like these other poor divvels. +Yer honor, it's drunken Pats and min like him that's bringin' these +poor girls here--it ain't the cops an' the sports (hic), yer honor." + +The woman staggered as the magistrate quietly signaled the attendant to +lead her through the gate, and up the aisle of the court to the outer +door. + +As she passed by the spectators, two or three richly dressed young +women giggled and nudged the dapper youths with whom they were sitting. + +"Silence!" cried the magistrate tersely. "This is not a cabaret show. +I don't want any seeing-New-York parties here. Sergeant, put those +people out of the court." + +The officer walked up the aisle and ordered the society buds and their +escorts to leave. + +"Why, we're studying sociology," murmured one girl. "It's a very +stupid thing, however, down here." + +"So vulgar, my dear," acquiesced her friend. "There's nothing +interesting anyway. Just the same old story." + +They noisily arose, and walked out, while Officer Burke could hear one +of the gilded youths exclaim in a loud voice as they reached the outer +corridor: + +"Come on, let's go up to Rector's for a little tango, and see some real +life...." + +The magistrate who had heard it tapped his pen on the desk, and looked +quizzically at the matron. + +"They are doubtless preparing some reform legislation for the suffrage +platform, Mrs. Grey, and I have inadvertently delayed the millennium. +Ah, a pity!" + +Burke was impatient for the calling of his own case. He was tired. He +would have been hungry had he not been so nauseated by the sickening +environment. He longed for the fresh air; even the snowstorm was +better than this. + +But his turn had not come. The next to be called was another answer to +his mental question. + +A young woman with a blackened eye and a bleeding cheek was brought in +by a fat, jolly officer, who led a burly, sodden man with him. + +The charge was quarreling and destroying the furniture of a neighbor in +whose flat the fight had taken place. + +"Who started it?" asked the magistrate. + +"She did, your honor. She ain't never home when I wants my vittles +cooked, and she blows my money so there ain't nothing in the house to +eat for meself. She's always startin' things, and she did this time +when I tells her to come on home...." + +"Just a minute," interrupted the magistrate. "What is the cause of +this, little woman? Who struck you on the eye?" + +The woman's lips trembled, and she glanced at the big fellow beside +her. He glowered down at her with a threatening twist of his mouth. + +"Why, your honor, you see, the baby was sick, and Joe, he went out with +the boys pay night, and we didn't have a cent in the flat, and I had +to..." + +"Shut up, or I'll bust you when I get you alone!" muttered Joe, until +the judge pounded on the table with his gavel. + +"You won't be where you can bust her!" sharply exclaimed the +magistrate. "Go on, little woman. When did he hit you?" + +The wife trembled and hesitated. The magistrate nodded encouragingly. + +"Why weren't you home?" he asked softly. + +"My neighbor, Mrs. Goldberg, likes the baby, and she was showing me how +to make some syrup for its croup, your honor, sir. We haven't got any +light--it's a quarter gas meter, and there wasn't anything to cook +with, and I had the baby in her flat, and Joe he just got home--he +hadn't been there ... since ... Saturday night ... I didn't have +anything to eat--since then, myself." + +Joe whirled about threateningly, but the officer caught his uplifted +arm. + +"She lies. She ain't straight, that's what it is. Hanging around them +_Sheenies_, and sayin' it's the baby. She lies!" + +The little woman's face paled, and she staggered back, her tremulous +fingers clutching at the empty air as her great eyes opened with horror +at his words. + +"I'm not _straight_? Oh, oh, Joe! You're killing me!" + +She moaned as though the man had beat her again. + +"Six months!" rasped out the magistrate between his teeth. "And I'm +going to put you under a peace bond when you get out. Little woman, +you're dismissed." + +Joe was roughly jostled out into the detention room again by the +rosy-cheeked policeman, whose face was neither so jolly nor rosy now. +The woman sobbed, and leaned across the rail, her outstretched arms +held pleadingly toward the magistrate. + +"Oh, judge, sir ... don't send him up for six months. How can the baby +and I live? We have no one, not one soul to care for us, and I'm +expecting..." + +Mercifully her nerves gave way, and she fainted. The gruff old court +attendant, now as gentle as a nurse, caught her, and with the gateman, +carried her at the judge's direction, toward his own private office, +whither hurried Mrs. Grey, the matron. + +The magistrate blew his nose, rubbed his glasses, and irritably looked +at the next paper. + +"Jimmie Olinski. Officer Burke. Hurry up, I want to call recess!" he +exclaimed. + +Burke, in a daze of thoughts, pulled himself together, and then took +the arm of Jimmie the Monk, who advanced with manner docile and +obsequious. He was not a stranger to the path to the rail. Another +officer led Annie forward. Burke took the chair. + +"Don't waste my time," snapped the magistrate. "What's this? Another +fight?" + +Officer 4434 explained the situation. + +"Do you want to complain, woman?" asked the magistrate. + +"Complain, why yer honor, dis cop is lyin' like a house afire. Dis is +me gent' friend, an' I got me face hoit by dis cop hittin' me when he +butted into our conversation. Dis cop assaulted us both, yer honor." + +"That'll do. Shut up. You know what this is, don't you, Burke? The +same old story. Why do you waste time on this sort of thing unless +you've got a witness? You know one of these women will never testify +against the man, no matter how much he beats and robs her." + +"But, your honor, the man assaulted her and assaulted me," began Burke. + +"She doesn't count. That's the pity of it, poor thing. I'll hold him +over to General Sessions for a criminal trial on assaulting you." + +In the back of the room a stout man in a fur overcoat arose. + +It was Shultberger. He came down the aisle. + +As he did so, unnoticed by Officer 4434, three of Shultberger's +companions arose and quietly left the courtroom by the front entrance. + +"Oxcuse me, Chudge, but may I offer bail for my friend, little Jimmie?" + +He had some papers in his hand, for this was what might be called a +by-product of his saloon business; Shultberger was always ready for the +assistance of his clients. + +The magistrate looked sharply at him. "Down here again, eh? I'd think +those deeds and that old brick house would be worn out by this time, +Shultberger, from the frequency with which you juggle it against the +liberty of your friends." + +"It's a fine house, Chudge, and was assessed." + +"Yes--go file your papers," snapped the magistrate. "You can report +back to your station house, officer. There is no charge against this +girl--she is merely held as material witness. She'll never testify. +She's discharged. Take my advice, Burke, and play safe with these +gun-men. You're in a neighborhood which needs good precaution as well +as good intentions. Good night." + +The magistrate rose, declaring a recess for one hour, and Officer 4434 +left the court through the police entrance. + +As he turned the corner of the old Court building, he repeated to +himself the question which had forced itself so strongly upon him: "Who +is to blame? Who has to pay? The men or the women?" + +Again he saw, mentally, the sobbing, drunken Irish woman with the two +daughters who had no home life. He saw the brutal Joe, and his +fainting wife as he cast the horrible words "not straight" into her +soul. He saw that the answer to his question, and the shallow society +youngsters, who had left the courtroom to see "real life" at Rector's, +were not disconnected from that answer. + +But he did not see a dark form behind a stone buttress at the corner of +the old building. He did not see a brick which came hurtling through +the air from behind him. + +He merely fell forward, mutely--with a fractured skull! + + + + +CHAPTER II + +WHEN LOVE COMES VISITING + +It was a very weak young man who sojourned for the next few weeks in +the hospital, hovering so near the shadow of the Eternal Fixed Post +that nurses and internes gave him up many times. + +"It's only his fine young body, with a fine clean mind and fine living +behind it, that has brought him around, nurse," said Doctor MacFarland, +the police surgeon of Burke's precinct, as he came to make his daily +call. + +"He's been very patient, sir, and it's a blessing to see him able to +sit up now, and take an interest in things. Many a man's mind has been +a blank after such a blow and such a fracture. He's a great favorite, +here," said the pretty nurse. + +Old Doctor MacFarland gave her a comical wink as he answered. + +"Well, nurse, beware of these great favorites. I like him myself, and +every officer on the force who knows him does as well. But the life of +a policeman's wife is not quite as jolly and rollicking as that of a +grateful patient who happens to be a millionaire. So, bide your time." + +He chuckled and walked on down the hall, while the young woman blushed +a carmine which made her look very pretty as she entered the private +room which had been reserved for Bobbie Burke. + +"Is there anything you would like for a change?" she asked. + +"Well, I can't read, and I can't take up all your time talking, so I +wish you'd let me get out of this room into one of the wards in a +wheel-chair, nurse," answered Burke. "I'd like to see some of the +other folks, if it's permissible." + +"That's easy. The doctor said you could sit up more each day now. He +says you'll be back on duty in another three weeks--or maybe six." + +Burke groaned. + +"Oh, these doctors, really, I feel as well now as I ever did, except +that my head is just a little wobbly and I don't believe I could beat +Longboat in a Marathon. But, you see, I'll be back on duty before any +three weeks go by." + +Burke was wheeled out into the big free ward of the hospital by one of +the attendants. He had never realized how much human misery could be +concentrated into one room until that perambulatory trip. + +It was not a visiting day, and many of the sufferers tossed about +restless and unhappy. + +About some of the beds there were screens--to keep the sight of their +unhappiness and anguish from their neighbors. + +Here was a man whose leg had been amputated. His entire life was +blighted because he had stuck to his job, coupling freight cars, when +the engineer lost his head. + +There, on that bed, was an old man who had saved a dozen youngsters +from a burning Christmas tree, and was now paying the penalty with +months of torture. + +Yonder poor fellow, braving the odds of the city, had left his country +town, sought labor vainly, until he was found starving rather than beg. + +As a policeman, Burke had seen many miseries in his short experience on +the force; as an invalid he had been initiated into the second degree +in this hospital ward. He wondered if there could be anything more +bitter. There was--his third and final degree in the ritual of life: +but that comes later on in our story. + +After chatting here and there with a sufferer, passing a friendly word +of encouragement, or spinning some droll old yarn to cheer up another, +Bobbie had enough. + +"Say, it's warm looking outside. Could I get some fresh air on one of +the sun-porches?" he asked his steersman. + +"Sure thing, cap. I'll blanket you up a bit, and put you through your +paces on the south porch." + +Bobbie was rolled out on the glass protected porch into the blessed +rays of the sun. He found another traveler using the same mode of +conveyance, an elderly man, whose pallid face, seamed with lines of +suffering, still showed the jolly, unconquerable spirit which keeps +some men young no matter how old they grow. + +"Well, it's about the finest sunlight I've seen for many a day. How do +you like it, young man?" + +"It's the first I've had for so many weeks that I didn't believe there +was any left in the world," responded Burke. "If we could only get out +for a walk instead of this Atlantic City boardwalk business it would be +better, wouldn't it?" + +His companion nodded, but his genial smile vanished. + +"Yes, but that's something I'll never get again." + +"What, never again? Why, surely you're getting along to have them +bring you out here?" + +"No, my boy. I've a broken hip, and a broken thigh. Crushed in an +elevator accident, back in the factory, and I'm too old a dog to learn +to do such tricks as flying. I'll have to content myself with one of +these chairs for the rest of my worthless old years." + +The old man sighed, and such a sigh! + +Bobbie's heart went out to him, and he tried to cheer him up. + +"Well, sir, there could be worse things in life--you are not blind, nor +deaf--you have your hands and they look like hands that can do a lot." + +His neighbor looked down at his nervous, delicate hands and smiled, for +his was a valiant spirit. + +"Yes, they've done a lot. They'll do a lot more, for I've been lying +on my back with nothing to do for a month but think up things for them +to do. I'm a mechanic, you know, and fortunately I have my hands and +my memory, and years of training. I've been superintendent of a +factory; electrical work, phonographs, and all kinds of instruments +like that were my specialty. But, they don't want an old man back +there, now. Too many young bloods with college training and book +knowledge. I couldn't superintend much work now--this wheel chair of +mine is built for comfort rather than exceeding the speed limit." + +Burke drew him out, and learned another pitiful side of life. + +Burke's new acquaintance was an artisan of the old school, albeit with +the skill and modernity of a man who keeps himself constantly in the +forefront by youthful thinking and scientific work. He had devoted the +best years of his life to the interests of his employer. When a +splendid factory had been completed, largely through the results of his +executive as well as his technical skill, and an enormous fortune +accumulated from the growing business of the famous plant, the +president of the company had died. His son, fresh from college, +assumed the management of the organization, and the services of old +Barton were little appreciated by the younger man or his board of +directors. It was a familiar story of modern business life. + +"So, there you have it, young man. Why I should bother you with my +troubles I don't quite understand myself. In a hospital it's like +shipboard; we know a man a short while, and isolated from the rest of +the world, we are drawn closer than with the acquaintances of years. +In my case it's just the tragedy of age. There is no man so important +but that a business goes on very well without him. I realized it with +young Gresham, even before I was hurt in the factory. They had taken +practically all I had to give, and it was time to cast me aside. As a +sort of charity, Gresham has sent me four weeks' salary, with a letter +saying that he can do no more, and has appointed a young electrical +engineer, from his own class in Yale, to take my place. They need an +active man, not an invalid. My salary has been used up for expenses, +and for the living of my two daughters, Mary and Lorna. What I'll do +when I get back home, I don't know." + +He shook his head, striving to conceal the despondency which was +tugging at his heart. + +Burke was cheery as he responded. + +"Well, Mr. Barton, you're not out of date yet. The world of +electricity is getting bigger every day. You say that you have made +many patents which were given to the Gresham company because you were +their employee. Now, you can turn out a few more with your own name on +them, and get the profits yourself. That's not so bad. I'll be out of +here myself, before long, and I'll stir myself, to see that you get a +chance. I can perhaps help in some way, even if I'm only a policeman." + +The older man looked at him with a comical surprise. + +"A policeman? A cop? Well, well, well! I wouldn't have known it!" + +Bobbie Burke laughed, and he had a merry laugh that did one's soul good +to hear. + +"We're just human beings, you know--even if the ministers and the +muckrakers do accuse us of being blood brothers to the devil and Ali +Baba." + +"I never saw a policeman out of uniform before--that's why it seems +funny, I suppose. But I wouldn't judge you to be the type which I +usually see in the police. How long have you been in the service?" + +Here was Bobby's cue for autobiography, and he realized that, as a +matter of neighborliness, he must go as far as his friend. + +"Well, I'm what they call a rookie. It's my second job as a rookie, +however, for I ran away from home several years ago, and joined the +army. I believed all the pretty pictures they hang up in barber shops +and country post-offices, and thought I was going to be a globe +trotter. Do you remember that masterpiece which shows the gallant +bugler tooting the 'Blue Bells of Scotland,' and wearing a straight +front jacket that would make a Paris dressmaker green with envy? Well, +sir, I believed that poster, and the result was that I went to the +Philippines and helped chase Malays, Filipinos, mosquitoes, and germs; +curried the major's horse, swept his front porch, polished his shoes, +built fences and chicken houses, and all the rest of the things a +soldier does." + +"But, why didn't you stay at home?" + +Burke dropped his eyes for an instant, and then looked up unhappily. + +"I had no real home. My mother and father died the same year, when I +was eighteen. I don't know how it all happened. I had gone to college +out West for one year, when my uncle sent for me to come back to the +town where we lived and get to work. My father was rather well to do, +and I couldn't quite understand it. But, my uncle was executor of the +estate, and when I had been away that season it was all done. There +was no estate when I got back, and there was nothing to do but to work +for my uncle in the store which he said he had bought from my father, +and to live up in the little room on the third floor where the cook +used to sleep, in the house where I was born, which he said he had +bought from the estate. It was a queer game. My father left no +records of a lot of things, and so there you know why I ran away to +listen to that picture bugle. I re-enlisted, and at the end of my +second service I got sick of it. I was a sergeant and was going to +take the examination for second lieutenant when I got malaria, and I +decided that the States were good enough for me. The Colonel knew the +Police Commissioner here. He sent me a rattling good letter. I never +expected to use it. But, after I hunted a job for six months and spent +every cent I had, I decided that soldiering was a good training for +sweeping front porches and polishing rifles, but it didn't pay much gas +and rent in the big city. The soldier is a baby who always takes +orders from dad, and dad is the government. I decided I'd use what +training I had, so I took that letter to the Commissioner. I got +through the examinations, and landed on the force. Then a brick with a +nice sharp corner landed on the back of my head, and I landed up here. +And that's all there is to _my_ tale of woe." + +The old man looked at him genially. + +"Well, you've had your own hard times, my boy. None of us finds it all +as pretty as the picture of the bugler, whether we work in a factory, a +skyscraper or on a drill ground. But, somehow or other, I don't +believe you'll be a policeman so very long." + +Bob leaned back in his chair and drank in the invigorating air, as it +whistled in through the open casement of the glass-covered porch. +There was a curious twinkle in his eye, as he replied: + +"I'm going to be a policeman long enough to 'get' the gangsters that +'got' me, Mr. Barton. And I believe I'm going to try a little +housecleaning, or white-wings work around that neighborhood, just as a +matter of sport. It doesn't hurt to try." + +And Burke's jaw closed with a determined click, as he smiled grimly. + +Barton was about to speak when the door from the inner ward opened +behind them. + +"Father! Father!" came a fresh young voice, and the old man turned +around in his chair with an exclamation of delight. + +"Why, Mary, my child. I'm so pleased. How did you get to see me? +It's not a visiting day." + +A pretty girl, whose delicate, oval face was half wreathed with waves +of brown curls, leaned over the wheeled chair and kissed the old +gentleman, as she placed some carnations on his lap. + +She caught his hand in her own little ones and patted it affectionately. + +"You dear daddy. I asked the superintendent of the hospital to let me +in as a special favor to-day, for to-morrow is the regular visiting +day, and I can't come then--neither can Lorna." + +"Why, my dear, where are you going?" + +The girl hesitated, as she noticed Burke in the wheel-chair so close at +hand. By superhuman effort Bobbie was directing his attention to the +distant roofs, counting the chimneys as he endeavored to keep his mind +off a conversation which did not concern him. + +"Oh, my dear, excuse me. Mr. Burke, turn around. I'd like to have you +meet my daughter, Mary." + +Bobbie willingly took the little hand, feeling a strange embarrassment +as he looked up into a pair of melting blue eyes. + +"It's a great pleasure," he began, and then could think of nothing more +to say. Mary hesitated as well, and her father asked eagerly: "Why +can't you girls come here to-morrow, my dear? By another visiting day +I hope to be back home." + +"Father, we have----" she hesitated, and Bobbie understood. + +"I'd better be wheeling inside, Mr. Barton, and let you have the visit +out here, where it's so nice. It's only my first trip, you know--so +let me call my steersman." + +"No secrets, no secrets," began Barton, but Bobbie had beckoned to the +ward attendant. The man came out, and, at Burke's request, started to +wheel him inside. + +"Won't you come and visit me, sir, in my little room? I get lonely, +you know, and have a lot of space. I'm so glad to have seen you, Miss +Barton." + +"Mr. Burke is going to be one of my very good friends, Mary. He's +coming around to see us when I get back home. Won't that be pleasant?" + +Mary looked at Bobbie's honest, mobile face, and saw the splendid +manliness which radiated from his earnest, friendly eyes. Perhaps she +saw just a trifle more in those eyes; whatever it was, it was not +displeasing. + +She dropped her own gaze, and softly said: + +"Yes, father. He will be very welcome, if he is your friend." + +On her bosom was a red rose which the florist had given her when she +purchased the flowers for her father. Sometimes even florists are +human, you know. + +"Good afternoon; I'll see you later," said Bobbie, cheerily. + +"You haven't any flowers, Mr. Burke. May I give you this little one?" +asked Mary, as she unpinned the rose. + +Burke flushed. He smiled, bashfully, and old Barton beamed. + +"Thank you," said Bobbie, and the attendant wheeled him on into his own +room. + +"Nurse, could you get me a glass of water for this rose?" asked Bobbie. + +"Certainly," said the pretty nurse, with a curious glance at the red +blossom. "It's very pretty. It's just a bud and, if you keep it +fresh, will last a long time." + +She placed it on the table by his cot. + +As she left the room, she looked again at the rose. + +Sometimes even nurses are human. + +And Bobbie looked at the rose. It was the sweetest rose he had ever +seen. He hoped that it would last a long, long time. + +"I will try to keep it fresh," he murmured, as he awkwardly rolled over +into his bed. + +Sometimes even policemen are human, too. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE TRAIL OF THE SERPENT + +Officer Burke was back again at his work on the force. He was a trifle +pale, and the hours on patrol duty and fixed post seemed trebly long, +for even his sturdy physique was tardy in recuperating from that +vicious shock at the base of his brain. + +"Take it easy, Burke," advised Captain Sawyer, "you have never had a +harder day in uniform than this one. Those two fires, the work at the +lines with the reserves and your patrol in place of Dexter, who is laid +up with his cold, is going it pretty strong." + +"That's all right, Captain. I'm much obliged for your interest. But a +little more work to-night won't hurt me. I'll hurry strength along by +keeping up this hustling. People who want to stay sick generally +succeed. Doctor MacFarland is looking after me, so I am not worried." + +Bobbie left the house with his comrades to relieve the men on patrol. + +It was late afternoon of a balmy spring day. + +The weeks since he had been injured had drifted into months, and there +seemed many changes in the little world of the East Side. This store +had failed; that artisan had moved out, and even two or three fruit +dealers whom Bobbie patronized had disappeared. + +In the same place stood other stands, managed by Italians who looked +like caricatures drawn by the same artist who limned their predecessors. + +"It must be pretty hard for even the Italian Squad to tell all these +fellows apart, Tom," said Bobbie, as they stood on the corner by one of +the stalls. + +"Sure, lad. All Ginnies look alike to me. Maybe that's why they carve +each other up every now and then at them little shindigs of theirs. +Little family rows, they are, you know. I guess they add a few marks +of identification, just for the family records," replied Tom Dolan, an +old man on the precinct. "However, I get along with 'em all right by +keeping my eye out for trouble and never letting any of 'em get me +first. They're all right, as long as you smile at 'em. But they're +tricky, tricky. And when you hurt a Wop's vanity it's time to get a +half-nelson on your night-stick!" + +They separated, Dolan starting down the garbage-strewn side street to +chase a few noisy push-cart merchants who, having no other customers in +view, had congregated to barter over their respective wares. + +"Beat it, you!" ordered Dolan. "This ain't no Chamber of Commerce. +Git!" + +With muttered imprecation the peddlers pushed on their carts to make +place for a noisy, tuneless hurdy-gurdy. On the pavement at its side a +dozen children congregated--none over ten--to dance the turkey trot and +the "nigger," according to the most approved Bowery artistry of +"spieling." + +"Lord, no wonder they fall into the gutter when they grow up," thought +Bobbie. "They're sitting in it from the time they get out of their +swaddling rags." + +Bobbie walked up to the nearby fruit merchant. + +"How much is this apple, Tony?" + +The Italian looked at him warily, and then smirked. + +"Eet's nothing toa you, signor. I'ma da policeman's friend. You taka +him." + +Bobbie laughed, as he fished out a nickel from his pocket. He shook +his head, as he replied. + +"No, Tony, I don't get my apples from the 'policeman's friend.' I can +pay for them. You know all of us policemen aren't grafters--even on +the line of apples and peanuts." + +The Italian's eyes grew big. + +"Well, you'ra de first one dat offer to maka me de pay, justa de same. +Eet's a two centa, eef you insist." + +He gave Bobbie his change, and the young man munched away on the fresh +fruit with relish. The Italian gave him a sunny grin, and then +volunteered: + +"Youa de new policeman, eh?" + +"I have been in the hospital for more than a month, so that's why you +haven't seen me. How long have you been on this corner? There was +another man here when I came this way last." + +"Si, signor. That my cousin Beppo. But he's gone back to It'. He had +some money--he wanta to keep eet, so he go while he can." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"I don'ta wanta talk about eet, signor," said the Italian, with a +strange look. "Eet'sa bad to say I was his cousin even." + +The dealer looked worried, and naturally Bobbie became curious and more +insistent. + +"You can tell me, if it's some trouble. Maybe I can help you some time +if you're afraid of any one." + +The Italian shook his head, pessimistically. + +"No, signor. Eet'sa better I keep what you call de mum." + +"Did he blow up somebody with a bomb? Or was it stiletto work?" asked +Bobbie, as he threw away the core of the apple, to observe it greedily +captured by a small, dirty-faced urchin by the curb. + +The fruit merchant looked into Officer Burke's face, and, as others had +done, was inspired by its honesty and candor. He felt that here might +be a friend in time of trouble. Most of the policemen he knew were +austere and cynical. He leaned toward Burke and spoke in a subdued +tone. + +"Poor Beppo, he have de broken heart. He was no Black Hand--he woulda +no usa de stiletto on a cheecken, he so kinda, gooda man. He justa +leave disa country to keepa from de suicide." + +"Why, that's strange! Tell me about it. Poor fellow!" + +"He'sa engag-ed to marry de pretty Maria Cenini, de prettiest girl in +our village, back in It'--excepta my wife. Beppo, he senda on de +money, so she can coma dis country and marry him. Dat wasa four week +ago she shoulda be here. But, signor, whena Beppo go toa de Battery to +meet her froma da Ellis Island bigga boat he no finda her." + +"Did she die?" + +"Oh, signor, Beppo, he wisha she hadda died. He tooka de early boat to +meeta her, signor, and soma ona tella de big officier at de Battery +he'sa da cousin of her sweeta heart. She goa wid him, signor, and +Beppo never finda her." + +"Why, you don't mean the girl was abducted?" + +"Signor, whatever eet was, Beppo hear from one man from our village who +leeve in our village dat he see poor Maria weed her face all paint, and +locked up in de tougha house in Newark two weeks ago. Oh, _madre dio_, +signor, she's a da bad girl! Beppo, he nearly killa his friend for +tell him, and den he go to Newark to looka for her at de house. But +she gone, and poor Beppo he was de pinched for starting de fight in de +house. He pay twanty-five de dols, and coma back here. De nexta +morning a beeg man come to Beppo, and he say: 'Wop, you geet out dis +place, eef you tella de police about dees girl,' Dassal." + +Burke looked into the nervous, twitching face of the poor Italian, and +realized that here was a deeper tragedy than might be guessed by a +passerby. The man's eyes were wet, and he convulsively fumbled at the +corduroy coat, which he had doubtless worn long before he ever sought +the portals of the Land of Liberty. + +"Oh, signor. Data night Beppo he was talk to de policaman, justa like +me. He say no word, but dat beega man he musta watch, for desa +gang-men dey busta de stand, and dey tella Beppo to geet out or dey +busta heem. Beppo he tell me I can hava de stand eef I pay him some +eacha week. I take it--and now I am afraid de busta me!" + +Bobbie laid a comforting hand upon the man's heaving shoulder. + +"There, don't you worry. Don't tell anyone else you're his cousin, and +I won't either. You don't need to be afraid of these gang-men. Just +be careful and yell for the police. The trouble with you Italians is +that you are afraid to tell the police anything when you are treated +badly. Your cousin should have reported this case to the Ellis Island +authorities. They would have traced that girl and saved her." + +The man looked gratefully into Burke's eyes, as the tears ran down his +face. + +"Oh, signor, eef all de police were lika you we be not afraid." + +Just then he dropped his eyes, and Burke noticed that his hand trembled +as he suddenly reached for a big orange and held it up. The man spoke +with a surprising constraint, still holding his look upon the fruit. + +"Signor, here's a fine orange. You wanta buy heem?" In a whisper he +added: "Eet is de bigga man who told my cousin to get outa da country!" + +Bobbie in astonishment turned around and beheld two pedestrians who +were walking slowly past, both staring curiously at the Italian. + +He gave an exclamation of surprise as he noticed that one of the men +was no less a personage than Jimmie the Monk. The man with him was a +big, raw-boned Bowery character of pugilistic build. + +"Why, I thought that scoundrel would have been tried and sentenced by +this time," murmured the officer. "I know they told me his case had +been postponed by his lawyer, an alderman. But this is one on me." + +The smaller man caught Burke's eye and gave him an insolent laugh. He +even stopped and muttered something to his companion. + +Burke's blood was up in an instant. + +He advanced quickly toward the tough. Jimmie sneered, as he stood his +ground, confident in the security of his political protection. + +"Move on there," snapped Burke. "This is no loafing place." + +"Aaaah, go chase sparrers," snarled Jimmie the Monk. "Who ye think yer +talking to, rookie?" + +Now, Officer Burke was a peaceful soul, despite his military training. +His short record on the force had been noteworthy for his ability to +disperse several incipient riots, quiet more than one brawl, and tame +several bad men without resorting to rough work. But there was a +rankling in his spirit which overcame the geniality which had been +reigning in his heart so short a time before. + +He was tired. He was weak from his recent confinement. But the +fighting blood of English and some Irish ancestors stirred in his veins. + +He walked quietly up to the Monk, and his voice was low, his words +calm, as he remarked: "You clear out of this neighborhood. I am going +to put you where you belong the first chance I get. And I don't want +any of your impudence now. Move along." + +Jimmie mistook the quiet manner for respect and a timid memory of the +recent retirement from active service. + +He spread his legs, and, with a wink to his companion, he began, with +the strident rasp of tone which can seldom be heard above Fourteenth +Street and east of Third Avenue. + +"Say, bo. Do you recollect gittin' a little present? Well, listen, +dere's a Christmas tree of dem presents comin' to you ef ye tries any +more of dis stuff. I'm in _right_ in dis district, don't fergit it. +Ye tink's I'm going to de Island? Wipe dat off yer memory, too. W'y, +say, I kin git yer buttons torn off and yer shield put in de scrap heap +by de Commish if I says de woid down on Fourteenth Street, at de +bailiwick." + +"I know who was back of the assault on me, Monk, and let me tell you +I'm going to get the man who threw it. Now, you get!" + +Burke raised his right hand carelessly to the side of his collar, as he +pressed up close to the gangster. The big man at his side came nearer, +but as the policeman did not raise his club, which swung idly by its +leather thong, to his left wrist, he was as unprepared for what +happened as Jimmie. + +"Why you----" began the latter, with at least six ornate oaths which +out-tarred the vocabulary of any jolly, profane tar who ever swore. + +Burke's hand, close to his own shoulder, and not eight inches away from +Jimmie's leering jowl, closed into a very hard fist. Before the tough +knew what had hit him that nearby fist had sent him reeling into the +gutter from a short shoulder jab, which had behind it every ounce of +weight in the policeman's swinging body. + +Jimmie lay there. + +The other man's hand shot to his hip pocket, but the officer's own +revolver was out before he could raise the hand again. Army practice +came handy to Burke in this juncture. + +"Keep your hand where it is," exclaimed the policeman, "or you'll get a +bullet through it." + +"You dog, I'll get you sent up for this," muttered the big man. + +But with his revolver covering the fellow, Burke quickly "frisked" the +hip pocket and discovered the bulk of a weapon. This was enough. + +"I fixed the Monk. Now, you're going up for the Sullivan Law against +carrying firearms. You're number one, with me, in settling up this +score!" Jimmie had shown signs of awakening from the slumber induced +by Burke's sturdy right hand. + +He pulled himself up as Burke marched his man around the corner. The +Monk hurried, somewhat unsteadily, to the edge of the fruit stand and +looked round it after the two figures. + +"Do youse know dat cop, ye damn Ginnie?" muttered Jimmie. + +"Signor, no!" replied the fruit dealer, nervously. "I never saw heem +on dis beat before to-day, wenna he buy de apple from me." + +Jimmie turned--discretion conquering temporary vengeance, and started +in the opposite direction. He stopped long enough to say, as he rubbed +his bruised jaw, "Well, Wop, ye ain't like to see much more of 'im +around dis dump neither, an' ye ain't likely to see yerself neither, if +ye do too much talkin' wid de cops." + +Jimmie hurried up the street to a certain rendezvous to arrange for a +rescue party of some sort. In the meantime Officer 4434 led an +unwilling prisoner to the station house, one hand upon the man's right +arm. His own right hand gripped his stick firmly. + +"You make a wiggle and I'm going to give it to you where I got that +brick, only harder," said Burke, softly. + +A crowd of urchins, young men and even a few straggling women followed +him with his prisoner. It grew to enormous proportions by the time he +had reached the station house. + +As they entered the front room Captain Sawyer looked up from his desk, +where he had been checking up some reports. + +"Ah, what have we this time, Burke?" + +"This man is carrying a revolver in his hip pocket," declared the +officer. "That will take care of him, I suppose." + +Dexter, at the captain's direction, searched the man. The revolver was +the first prize. In his pocket was a queer memorandum book. It +contained page after page of girls' names, giving only the first name, +with some curious words in cipher code after each one. In the same +pocket was a long, flat parcel. Dexter handed it to the captain who +opened it gingerly. Inside the officer found at least twenty-five +small packets, all wrapped in white paper. He opened two of these. +They contained a flaky, white powder. + +The man looked down as Sawyer gave him a shrewd glance. + +"We have a very interesting visitor, Burke. Thanks for bringing him +in. So you're a cocaine peddler?" + +The man did not reply. + +"Take him out into one of the cells, Dexter. Get all the rest of his +junk and wrap it up. Look through the lining of his clothes and strip +him. This is a good catch, Burke." + +The prisoner sullenly ambled along between two policemen, who locked +him up in one of the "pens" in the rear of the front office. Burke +leaned over the desk. + +"He was walking with that Jimmie the Monk when I got him. Jimmie acted +ugly, and when I told him to move on he began to curse me." + +"What did you do?" + +"I handed him an upper-cut. Then this fellow tried to get his gun. +Jimmie will remember me, and I'll get him later, on something. I +didn't want to call out the reserves, so I brought this man right on +over here, and let Jimmie attend to himself. I suppose we'll hear from +him before long." + +"Yes, I see the message coming now," exclaimed Captain Sawyer in a low +tone. "Don't you open your mouth. I'll do the talking now." + +As he spoke, Burke followed his eyes and turned around. A large man, +decorated with a shiny silk hat, shinier patent leather shoes of +extreme breadth of beam, a flamboyant waistcoat, and a gold chain from +which dangled a large diamond charm, swaggered into the room, mopping +his red face with a silk handkerchief. + +"Well, well, captain!" he ejaculated, "what's this I hear about an +officer from this precinct assaulting two peaceful civilians?" + +The Captain looked steadily into the puffy face of the speaker. His +steely gray eyes fairly snapped with anger, although his voice was +unruffled as he replied, "You'd better tell me all you heard, and who +you heard it from." + +The big man looked at Burke and scowled ominously. It was evident that +Officer 4434 was well known to him, although Bobbie had never seen the +other in his life. + +"Here's the fellow. Clubbing one of my district workers--straight +politics, that's what it is, or I should say crooked politics. I'm +going to take this up with the Mayor this very day. You know his +orders about policemen using their clubs." + +"Yes, Alderman, I know that and several other things. I know that this +policeman did not use his club but his fist on one of your ward +heelers, and that was for cursing him in public. He should have +arrested him. I also know that you are the lawyer for this gangster, +Jimmie the Monk. And I know what we have on his friend. You can look +at the blotter if you want. I haven't finished writing it all yet." + +The Captain turned the big record-book around on his desk, while the +politician angrily examined it. + +"What's that? Carrying weapons, unlawfully? Carrying cocaine? Why, +this is a frame-up. This man Morgan is a law-abiding citizen. You're +trying to send him up to make a record for yourself. I'm going to take +this up with the Mayor as sure as my name is Kelly!" + +"Take it up with the United States District Attorney, too, Mr. +Alderman, for I've got some other things on your man Morgan. This +political stuff is beginning to wear out," snapped Sawyer. "There are +too many big citizens getting interested in this dope trade and in the +gang work for you and your Boss to keep it hushed any longer." + +He turned to Burke and waved his hand toward the stairway which led to +the dormitory above. + +"Go on upstairs, my boy, and rest up a little bit. You're pale. This +has been a hard day, and I'm going to send out White to relieve you. +Take a little rest and then I'll send you up to Men's Night Court with +Morgan, for I want him held over for investigation by the United States +officers." + +Alderman Kelly puffed and fumed with excitement. This was getting +beyond his depths. He was a competent artist in the criminal and lower +courts, but his talents for delaying the law of the Federal procedure +were rather slim. + +"What do you mean? I'm going to represent Morgan, and I'll have +something to say about his case at Night Court. I know the magistrate." + +Sawyer took out the memorandum book from the little parcel of +"exhibits" removed from the prisoner. + +"Well, Alderman," Burke heard him say, as he started up the stairs, +"you ought to be pleased to have a long and profitable case. For I +think this is just starting the trail on a round-up of some young men +who have been making money by a little illegal traffic. There are +about four hundred girls' names in this book, and the Chief of +Detectives has a reputation for being able to figure out ciphers." + +Alderman Kelly dropped his head, but gazed at Sawyer's grim face from +beneath his heavy brows with a baleful intensity. Then he left the +station house. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +WHAT THE DOCTOR SAID + +Officer Bobbie Burke found the case at the Men's Night Court to be less +difficult than his experience with Dutch Annie and her "friend." The +magistrate disregarded the pleading of Alderman Kelly to show the +"law-abiding" Morgan any leniency. The man was quickly bound over for +investigation by the Grand Jury, upon the representations of Captain +Sawyer, who went in person to look after the matter. + +"This man will bear a strict investigation, Mr. Kelly, and I propose to +hold him without bail until the session to-morrow. Your arguments are +of no avail. We have had too much talk and too little actual results +on this trafficking and cocaine business, and I will do what I can to +prevent further delays." + +"But, your honor, how about this brutal policeman?" began Kelly, on a +new tack. "Assaulting a peaceful citizen is a serious matter, and I am +prepared to bring charges." + +"Bring any you want," curtly said the magistrate. "The officer was +fully justified. If night-sticks instead of political pull were used +on these gun-men our politics would be cleaner and our city would not +be the laughing-stock of the rest of the country. Officer Burke, keep +up your good work, and clean out the district if you can. We need more +of it." + +Burke stepped down from the stand, embarrassed but happy, for it was a +satisfaction to know that there were some defenders of the police. He +espied Jimmie the Monk sitting with some of his associates in the rear +of the room, but this time he was prepared for trouble, as he left. +Consequently, there was none. + +When he returned to the station house he was too tired to return to his +room in the boarding-house where he lodged, but took advantage of the +proximity of a cot in the dormitory for the reserves. + +Next day he was so white and fagged from the hard duty that Captain +Sawyer called up Doctor MacFarland, the police surgeon for the precinct. + +When the old Scotchman came over he examined. Burke carefully and +shook his head sternly. + +"Young man," said he, "if you want to continue on this work, remember +that you have just come back from a hospital. There has been a bad +shock to your nerves, and if you overdo yourself you will have some +trouble with that head again. You had better ask the Captain for a +little time off--take it easy this next day or two and don't pick any +more fights." + +"I'm not hunting for trouble, doctor. But, you know, I do get a queer +feeling--maybe it is in my head, from that brick, but it feels in my +heart--whenever I see one of these low scoundrels who live on the +misery of their women. This Jimmie the Monk is one of the worst I have +ever met, and I can't rest easy until I see him landed behind the bars." + +"There is no greater curse to our modern civilization than the work of +these men, Burke. It is not so much the terrible lives of the women +whom they enslave; it is the disease which is scattered broadcast, and +carried into the homes of working-men, to be handed to virtuous and +unsuspecting wives, and by heredity to innocent children, visiting, as +the Bible says, 'the iniquities of the fathers unto the third and the +fourth generation.'" + +The old doctor sat down dejectedly and rested his chin on his hand, as +he sat talking to Burke in the rear room of the station house. + +"Doctor, I've heard a great deal about the white slave traffic, as +every one who keeps his ears open in the big city must. Do you think +the reports are exaggerated?" + +"No, my boy. I've been practicing medicine and surgery in New York for +forty years. When I came over here from Scotland the city was no +better than it should have been. But it was an _American_ city +then--not an 'international melting pot,' as the parlor sociologists +proudly call it. The social evil is the oldest profession in the +world; it began when one primitive man wanted that which he could not +win with love, so he offered a bribe. And the bribe was taken, whether +it was a carved amulet or a morsel of game, or a new fashion in furs. +And the woman who took it realized that she could escape the drudgery +of the other women, could obtain more bribes for her loveless barter +... and so it has grown down through the ages." + +The old Scotchman lit his pipe. + +"I've read hundreds of medical books, and I've had thousands of cases +in real life which have taught me more than my medical books. What +I've learned has not made me any happier, either. Knowledge doesn't +bring you peace of mind on a subject like this. It shows you how much +greed and wickedness and misery there are in the world." + +"But, doctor, do you think this white slave traffic is a new +development? We've only heard about it for the last two or three +years, haven't we?" + +The physician nodded. + +"Yes, but it's been there in one form or another. It caused the ruin +of the Roman Empire; it brought the downfall of mediaeval Europe, and +whenever a splendid civilization springs up the curse of sex-bondage in +one form or another grows with it like a cancer." + +"But medicine is learning to cure the cancer. Can't it help cure this?" + +"We are getting near the cure for cancer, maybe near the cure for this +cancer as well. Sex-bondage was the great curse of negro slavery in +the United States; it was the thing which brought misery on the South, +in the carpet-bag days, as a retribution for the sins of the fathers. +We cured that and the South is bigger and better for that terrible +surgical operation than it ever was before. But this latest +development--organized capture of ignorant, weak, pretty girls, to be +held in slavery by one man or by a band of men and a few debauched old +hags, is comparatively a new thing in America. It has been caused by +the swarms of ignorant emigrants, by the demand of the lowest classes +of those emigrants and the Americans they influence for a satisfaction +of their lust. It is made easy by the crass ignorance of the country +girls, the emigrant girls, and by the drudgery and misery of the +working girls in the big cities." + +"I saw two cases in Night Court, Doc, which explained a whole lot to +me--drunken fathers and brutal husbands who poisoned their own +wives--it taught that not all the blame rests upon the weakness of the +women." + +"Of course it doesn't," exclaimed MacFarland impetuously. "It rests +upon Nature, and the way our boasted Society is mistreating Nature. +Woman is weaker than man when it comes to brute force; you know it is +force which does rule the world when you do get down to it, in +government, in property, in business, in education--it is all survival +of the strongest, not always of the fittest. A woman should be in the +home; she can raise babies, for which Nature intended her. She can +rule the world through her children, but when she gets out to fight +hand to hand with man in the work-world she is outclassed. She can't +stand the physical strain thirty days in the month; she can't stand the +starvation, the mistreatment, the battling that a man gets in the +world. She needs tenderness and care, for you know every normal woman +is a mother-to-be--and that is the most wonderful thing in the world, +the most beautiful. When the woman comes up against the stone wall of +competition with men her weakness asserts itself. That's why good +women fall. It's not the 'easiest way'--it's just forced upon them. +As for the naturally bad women--well, that has come from some trait of +another generation, some weakness which has been increased instead of +cured by all this twisted, tangled thing we call modern civilization." + +The doctor sighed. + +"There are a lot of women in the world right now, Burke, who are +fighting for what they call the 'Feminist Movement'. They don't want +homes; they want men's jobs. They don't want to raise their babies in +the old-fashioned way; they want the State to raise them with trained +nurses and breakfast food. They don't see anything beautiful in home +life, and cooking, and loving their husbands. They want the lecture +platform (and the gate-receipts); they want to run the government, they +want men to be breeders, like the drones in the beehive, and they don't +want to be tied to one man for life. They want to visit around. The +worst of it is that they are clever, they write well, they talk well, +and they interest the women who are really normal, who only half-read, +only half-analyze, and only get a part of the idea! These normal women +are devoting, as they should, most of their energies to the normal +things of woman life--children, home, charity, and neighborliness. But +the clever feminist revolutionists are giving them just enough argument +to make them dissatisfied. They flatter the domestic woman by telling +her she is not enough appreciated, and that she should control the +country. They lead the younger women away from the old ideals of love +and home and religion; in their place they would substitute +selfishness, loose morals, and will change the chivalry, which it has +taken men a thousand years to cultivate, into brutal methods, when men +realize that women want absolute equality. Then, should such a +condition ever be accepted by society in general, we will do away with +the present kind of social evil--to have a tidal wave of lust." + +Bobbie listened with interest. It was evident that Doctor MacFarland +was opening up a subject close to his heart. The old man's eyes +sparkled as he continued. + +"You asked about the traffic in women, as we hear of it in New York. +Well, the only way we can cure it is to educate the men of all classes +so that for reasons moral, sanitary, and feelings of honest pride in +themselves they will not patronize the market where souls are sought. +This can't be done by passing laws, but by better books, better ways of +amusement, better living conditions for working people, so that they +will not be 'driven to drink' and what follows it to forget their +troubles. Better factories and kinder treatment to the great number of +workmen, with fairer wage scale would bring nearer the possibility of +marriage--which takes not one, but two people out of the danger of the +gutter. Minimum wage scales and protection of working women would make +the condition of their lives better, so that they would not be forced +into the streets and brothels to make their livings. + +"Why, Burke, a magistrate who sits in Night Court has told me that +medical investigation of the street-walkers he has sentenced revealed +the fact that nine of every ten were diseased. When the men who +foolishly think they are good 'sports' by debauching with these women +learn that they are throwing away the health of their wives and +children to come, as well as risking the contagion of diseases which +can only be bottled up by medical treatment but never completely cured; +when it gets down to the question of men buying and selling these poor +women as they undoubtedly do, the only way to check that is for every +decent man in the country to help in the fight. It is a man evil; men +must slay it. Every procurer in the country should be sent to prison, +and every house of ill fame should be closed." + +"Don't you think the traffic would go on just the same, doctor? I have +heard it said that in European cities the authorities confined such +women to certain parts of the city. Then they are subjected to medical +examination as well." + +"No, Burke, segregation will not cure it. Many of the cities abroad +have given that up. The medical examinations are no true test, for +they are only partially carried out--not all the women will admit their +sinful ways of life, nor submit to control by the government. The +system prevails in Paris and in Germany, and there is more disease +there than in any other part of Europe. Men, depending upon the +imaginary security of a doctor's examination card, abandon themselves +the more readily, and caution is thrown to the winds, with the result +that a woman who has been O.K.'d by a government physician one day may +contract a disease and spread it the very next day. You can depend +upon it that if she has done so she will evade the examination next +time in order not to interfere with her trade profits. So, there you +are. This is an ugly theme, but we must treat it scientifically. + +"You know it used to be considered vulgar to talk about the stomach and +other organs which God gave us for the maintenance of life. But when +folks began to realize that two-thirds of the sickness in the world, +contagious and otherwise, resulted from trouble with the stomach, that +false modesty had to give way. Consequently to-day we have fewer +epidemics, much better general health, because men and women understand +how to cure many of their own ailments with prompt action and simple +methods. + +"The vice problem is one which reaps its richest harvest when it is +protected from the sunlight. Sewers are not pleasant table-talk, but +they must be watched and attended by scientific sanitary engineers. A +cancer of the intestines is disagreeable to think about. But when it +threatens a patient's life the patient should know the truth and the +doctor should operate. Modern society is the patient, and +death-dealing sex crimes are the cancerous growth, which must be +operated upon. Whenever we allow a neighborhood to maintain houses of +prostitution, thus regulating and in a way sanctioning the evil, we are +granting a sort of corporation charter for an industry which is run +upon business methods. And business, you know, is based upon filling +the 'demand,' with the necessary 'supply.' And the manufacturers, in +this case, are the procurers and the proprietresses of these houses. +There comes in the business of recruiting--and hence the traffic in +souls, as it has aptly been called. No, my boy, government regulation +will never serve man, nor woman, for it cannot cover all the ground. +As long as women are reckless, lazy and greedy, yielding to temporary, +half-pleasant sin rather than live by work, you will find men with low +ideals in all ranks of life who prefer such illicit 'fun' to the +sweetness of wedlock! Why, Burke, sex is the most beautiful thing in +the world--it puts the blossoms on the trees, it colors the +butterflies' wings, it sweetens the songs of the birds, and it should +make life worth living for the worker in the trench, the factory hand, +the office toiler and the millionaire. But it will never do so until +people understand it, know how to guard it with decent knowledge, and +sanctify it morally and hygienically." + +The old doctor rose and knocked the ashes out of his briar pipe. He +looked at the eager face of the young officer. + +"But there, I'm getting old, for I yield to the melody of my own voice +too much. I've got office hours, you know, and I'd better get back to +my pillboxes. Just excuse an old man who is too talkative sometimes, +but remember that what I've said to you is not my own old-fashioned +notion, but a little boiled-down philosophy from the writings of the +greatest modern scientists." + +"Good-bye, Doctor MacFarland. I'll not forget it. It has answered a +lot of questions in my mind." + +Bobbie went to the front door of the station house with the old +gentleman, and saluted as a farewell. + +"What's he been chinning to you about, Burke?" queried the Captain. +"Some of his ideas of reforming the world? He's a great old character, +is Doc." + +"I think he knows a lot more about religion than a good many ministers +I've heard," replied Bobbie. "He ought to talk to a few of them." + +"Sure. But they wouldn't listen if he did. They're too busy getting +money to send to the heathens in China, and the niggers in Africa to +bother about the heathens and poor devils here. I'm pretty strong for +Doc MacFarland, even though I don't get all he's talking about." + +"Say, Burke, the Doc got after me one day and gave me a string of books +as long as your arm to read," put in Dexter. "He seems to think a cop +ought to have as much time to read as a college boy!" + +"You let me have the list, Dexter, and I'll coach you up on it," +laughed Burke. + +"To-day is your relief, Burke," said the Captain. "You can go up to +the library and wallow in literature if you want to." + +Burke smiled, as he retorted: + +"I'm going to a better place to do my reading--and not out of books +either, Cap." + +He changed his clothes, and soon emerged in civilian garb. He had +never paid his call on John Barton, although he had been out of the +hospital for several days. The old man's frequent visits to him in his +private room at the hospital, after that first memorable meeting, had +ripened their friendship. Barton had told him of a number of new ideas +in electrical appliances, and Burke was anxious to see what progress +had been made since the old fellow returned to his home. + +Officer 4434 was also anxious to see another member of his family, and +so it was with a curious little thrill of excitement, well concealed, +however, with which he entered the modest apartment of the Bartons' +that evening. + +"Well, well, well!" exclaimed the old man, as the young officer took +his hand. "We thought you had forgotten us completely. Mary has asked +me several times if you had been up to see me. I suppose you have been +busy with those gangsters, and keep pretty close since you returned to +active service." + +Bobbie nodded. + +"Yes, sir. They are always with us, you know. And a policeman does +not have very much time to himself, particularly if he lolls around in +bed with a throb in the back of the head, during his off hours, as I've +been foolish enough to do." + +"Oh, how are you feeling, Mr. Burke?" exclaimed Mary, as she entered +from the rear room. + +She held out her hand, and Bobbie trembled a trifle as he took her +soft, warm fingers in his own. + +"I'm improving, and don't believe I was ever laid up--it was just +imagination on my part," answered Burke. "But I have a faded rose to +make me remember that some of it was a pleasant imagination, at any +rate." + +Mary laughed softly, and dropped her eyes ever so slightly. But the +action betrayed that she had not forgotten either. + +Old Barton busied himself with some papers on a table by the side of +his wheel-chair, for he was a diplomat. + +"Well, now, Mr. Burke--what are your adventures? I read every day of +some policeman jumping off a dock in the East River to rescue a +suicide, or dragging twenty people out of a burning tenement, and am +afraid that it's you. It's all right to be a hero, you know, but +there's a great deal of truth in that old saying about it being better +to have people remark, 'There he goes,' than 'Doesn't he look natural.'" + +Bobbie took the comfortable armchair which Mary drew up. + +"I haven't had anything really worth while telling about," said Burke. +"I see a lot of sad things, and it makes a man feel as though he were a +poor thing not to be able to improve conditions." + +"That's true of every walk in life. But most people don't look at the +sad any longer than they can help. I've not been having a very jolly +time of it myself, but I hope for a lot of good news before long. Why +don't you bring Lorna in to meet Mr. Burke, Mary?" + +The girl excused herself, and retired. + +"How are your patents?" asked Bobbie, with interest. "I hope you can +show tricks to the Gresham people." + +The old man sighed. He took up some drawings and opened a little +drawer in the table. + +"No, Mr. Burke, I am afraid my tricks will be slow. I have received no +letter from young Gresham in reply to one I wrote him, asking to be +given a salary for mechanical work here in my home. Every bit of my +savings has been exhausted. You know I educated my daughters to the +limit of my earnings, since my dear wife died. They have hard sledding +in front of them for a while, I fear." + +He hesitated, and then continued: + +"Do you remember the day you met Mary? She started to say that she and +Lorna could not see me on visiting day. Well, the dear girls had +secured a position as clerks in Monnarde's big candy store up on Fifth +Avenue. They talked it over between them, and decided that it was +better for them to get to work, to relieve my mind of worry. It's the +first time they ever worked, and they are sticking to it gamely. But +it makes me feel terribly. Their mother never had to work, and I feel +as though I have been a failure in life--to have done as much as I +have, and yet not have enough in my old age to protect them from the +world." + +"There, there, Mr. Barton. I don't agree with you. There is no +disgrace in womanly work; it proves what a girl is worth. She learns +the value of money, which before that had merely come to her without a +question from her parents. And you have been a splendid father ... +that's easily seen from the fine sort of girl Miss Mary is." + +Mary had stepped into the room with her younger sister as he spoke. +They hesitated at the kindly words, and Mary drew her sister back +again, her face suffused with a rosiness which was far from unhappy in +its meaning. + +"Well, I am very proud of Mary and Lorna. If this particular scheme +works out they will be able to buy their candy at Monnarde's instead of +selling it." + +Bobbie rose and leaned over the table. + +"What is it? I'm not very good at getting mechanical drawings. It +looks as though it ought to be very important from all the wheels," he +said, with a smile of interest. + +Spreading out the largest of his drawings, old Barton pointed out the +different lines. + +"This may look like a mince pie of cogs here, but when it is put into +shape it will be a simple little arrangement. This is a recording +instrument which combines the phonograph and the dictagraph. One +purpose--the most practical, is that a business man may dictate his +letters and memoranda while sitting at his desk, in his office, instead +of having a machine with a phonograph in his private office taking up +space and requiring the changing of records by the dictator--which is +necessary with the present business phonograph. All that will be +necessary is for him to speak into a little disc. The sound waves are +carried by a simple arrangement of wiring into his outer office, or +wherever his stenographer works. There, where the space is presumably +cheaper and easier of access than the private office, the receiving end +of the machine is located. Instead of one disc at a time--limited to a +certain number of letters--the machine has a magazine of discs, +something like the idea of a repeating letter. Automatically the disc, +which is filled, is moved up and a fresh disc takes its place. This +goes on indefinitely, as you might say. A man can dictate two hundred +letters, speaking as rapidly as he thinks. He never has to bother over +changing his records. The girl at the other end of the wire does that +when the machine registers that the supply is being exhausted. She in +turn uses the discs on the regular business phonograph, or, as this is +intended for large offices, where there are a great many letters, and +consequently a number of stenographers, she can assign the records to +the different typists." + +"Why, that is wonderful, Mr. Barton!" exclaimed Burke. "It ought to +make a fortune for you if it is backed and financed right. Why didn't +anyone think of it before?" + +Barton smiled, and caressed his drawing affectionately. + +"Mr. Burke, the Patent Office is maintained for men who think up things +that some fellow should have thought of before! The greatest +inventions are apparently the simplest. That's what makes them hard to +invent!" + +He pointed to another drawing. + +"That has a business value, too, and I hope to get the proper support +when I have completed my models. You know, a scientific man can see +all these things on the paper, but to the man with money they are pipe +dreams until he sees the wheels go 'round." + +He now held out his second drawing, which was easier to understand, for +it was a sketch of his appliance, showing the outer appearance, and +giving a diagonal section of a desk or room, with a wire running +through a wall into another compartment. + +"Here is where the scientist yields to his temperament and wastes a lot +of time on something which probably will never bring him a cent. This +is a combination of my record machine, which will be of interest to +your profession." + +Bobbie examined it closely, but could not divine its purpose. + +"It is the application of the phonographic record to the dictagraph, so +that police and detective work can be absolutely recorded, without the +shadow of a doubt remaining in the minds of a trial jury or judge. +Maybe this is boring you?" + +"No, no--go on!" + +"Well, when dictagraphs are used for the discovery of criminals it has +been necessary to keep expert stenographers, and at least one other +witness at the end of the wire to put down the record. Frequently the +stenographer cannot take the words spoken as fast as he should to make +the record. Sometimes it is impossible to get the stenographer and the +witness on the wire at the exact time. Of course, this is only a crazy +idea. But it seems to me that by a little additional appliance which I +have planned, the record machine could be put into a room nearby, or +even another house. If a certain place were under suspicion the +machine could rest with more ease, less food and on smaller wages than +a detective and stenographer on salary. When any one started to talk +in this suspected room the vibrations of the voices would start a +certain connection going through this additional wire, which would set +the phonograph into action. As long as the conversation continued the +records would be running continuously. No matter how rapidly words are +uttered the phonograph would get them, and could be run, for further +investigation, as slowly and as many times as desired. When the +conversation stopped the machine would automatically blow its own +dinner whistle and adjourn the meeting until the talk began again. +This would take the record of at least an hour's conversation: another +attachment would send in a still-alarm to the detective agency or +police station, so that within that hour a man could be on the job with +a new supply of records and bait the trap again." + +"Wonderful!" + +"Yes, and the most important part is that this is the only way of +keeping a record which cannot be called a 'frame-up'--for it is a +photograph of the sound waves. A grafter, a murderer, or any other +criminal could be made to speak the same words in court as were put on +the phonographic record, and his voice identified beyond the shadow of +a doubt!" + +Bobbie clapped his hand on the old man's shoulder. + +"Why, Mr. Barton, that is the greatest invention ever made for +capturing and convicting criminals. It's wonderful! The Police +Departments of the big cities should buy enough machines to make you +rich, for you could demand your own price." + +Barton looked dreamily toward the window, through which twinkled the +distant lights of the city streets. + +"I want money, Burke, as every sane man does. But this pet of mine +means more than money. I want to contribute my share to justice just +as you do yours. Who knows, some day it may reward me in a way which +no money could ever repay. You never can tell about such things. Who +knows?" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +ROSES AND THORNS + +Mary's sister was as winsome and fair as she, but to Burke's keen eyes +she was a weaker girl. There was a suggestion of too much attention to +dress, a self-consciousness tinged with self-appreciation. + +When she was introduced to Bobbie he could feel instinctively an +under-current of condescension, ever so slight, yet perceptible to the +sensitive young fellow. + +"You're the first policeman I've ever met," began Lorna, with a smile, +"and I really don't half believe you are one. I always think of them +as swinging clubs and taking a handful of peanuts off a stand, as they +walk past a corner cart. Really, I do." + +Burke reddened, but retorted, amiably enough. + +"I don't like peanuts, for they always remind me of the Zoo, and I +never liked Zoos! But I plead guilty to swinging a club when occasion +demands. You know even millionaires have their clubs, and so you can't +deny us the privilege, can you?" + +Lorna laughed, and gracefully pushed back a stray curl with her pretty +hand. Mary frowned a bit, but trusted that Bobbie had not noticed the +lack of tact. + +"I've seen policemen tugging at a horse's head and getting nearly +trampled to death to save some children in a runaway carriage. That +was on Fifth Avenue yesterday, just when we quit work, Lorna." She +emphasized the word "work," and Bobbie liked her the more for it. +"And, last winter, I saw two of them taking people out on a +fire-escape, wet, and covered with icicles, in a big fire over there on +Manhattan Avenue. They didn't look a bit romantic, Lorna, and they +even had red faces and pug noses. But I think that's a pleasanter +memory than shoplifting from peanut stands." + +Lorna smiled winningly, however, and sat down, not without a decorative +adjustment of her pretty silk dress. Bobbie forgave her, principally +because she looked so much like Mary. + +They chatted as young people will, while old Barton mumbled and studied +over his drawings, occasionally adding a detail, and calculating on a +pad as though he were working out some problem in algebra. + +Lorna's chief topic was the theater and dancing. + +Mary endeavored to bring the conversation around to other things. + +"I have to admit that I'm very green on theaters, Miss Barton," said +Bobbie to the younger sister. "I love serious plays, and these +old-fashioned kind of comedies, which teach a fellow that there's some +happiness in life----but, I don't get the time to attend them. My +station is down on the East Side, and I see so much tragedy and +unhappiness that it has given me about all the real-life plays I could +want, since I came to the police work." + +Lorna scoffed, and tossed her curls. + +"Oh, I don't like that stupid old stuff myself. I like the musical +comedies that have dancing, and French dresses, and cleverness. I +think all the serious plays nowadays are nothing but scandal--a girl +can't go to see them without blushing and wishing she were at home." + +"I don't agree with you, Lorna. There are some things in life that a +girl should learn. An unpleasant play is likely to leave a bad taste +in one's mouth, but that bad taste may save her from thinking that evil +can be honey-coated and harmless. Why, the show we saw the other +night--those costumes, those dances, and the songs! There was nothing +left to imagine. They stop serious plays, and ministers preach sermons +about them, while the musical comedies that some of the managers +produce are a thousand times worse, for they teach only a bad lesson." + +As Lorna started to reply the bell rang and Mary went to the door. + +Two young men were outside and, at Mary's stiff invitation, they +entered. Burke rose, politely. + +"Why, how do you do, Mr. Baxter?" exclaimed Lorna, enthusiastically, as +she extended one hand and arranged that disobedient lock of hair with +the other. "Come right in, this is such a pleasant surprise." + +Baxter advanced, and introduced his companion. + +"This is my friend, Reggie Craig, Miss Barton. We're just on our way +down to Dawley's for a little supper and a dance afterward. You know +they have some great tangoing there, and I know you like it." + +Lorna introduced Craig and Baxter to the others. As she came to Bobbie +she said, "This is Mr. Burke. You wouldn't believe it, but he is a----" + +"Friend of father's," interrupted Mary, with a look which did not +escape either Bobbie or Lorna. "Won't you sit down, gentlemen?" + +Burke was studying the two men with his usual rapidity of observation. + +Baxter was tall, with dark, curly hair, carefully plastered straight +back from a low, narrow forehead. His grooming was immaculate: his +"extreme" cutaway coat showed a good physique, but the pallor of the +face above it bespoke dissipation of the strength of that natural +endowment. His shoes, embellished with pearl buttons set with +rhinestones, were of the latest vogue, described in the man-who-saw +column of the theater programmes. He looked, for all the world, like +an advertisement for ready-tailored suitings. + +His companion was slighter in build but equally fastidious in +appearance. When he drew a handkerchief from his cuff Bobbie completed +the survey and walked over toward old Barton, to look at the more +interesting drawings. + +"You girls must come along to Dawley's, you simply must, you know," +began Baxter, still standing. "Of course, we'd be glad to have your +father's friend, if he likes dancing." + +"That's very kind of you, but you know I've a lot to talk about with +Mr. Barton," answered Bobbie, quietly. + +"May we go, father?" asked Lorna, impetuously. + +"Well, I thought," said the old gentleman, "I thought that you'd----" + +"Father, I haven't been to a dance or a supper since you were injured. +You know that," pouted Lorna. + +"What do you want to do, Mary dear?" asked the old man, helplessly. + +"It's very kind of Mr. Baxter, but you know we have a guest." + +Mary quietly sat down, while Lorna's temper flared. + +"Well, I'm going anyway. I'm tired of working and worrying. I want to +have pleasure and music and entertainment like thousands of other girls +in New York. I owe it to myself. I don't intend to sit around here +and talk about tenement fires and silly old patents." + +Burke was embarrassed, but not so the visiting fashion plates. Baxter +and Craig merely smiled at each other with studied nonchalance; they +seemed used to such scenes, thought Bobbie. + +Lorna flounced angrily from the room, while her father wiped his +forehead with a trembling hand. + +"Why, Lorna," he expostulated weakly. But Lorna reappeared with a +pretty evening wrap and her hat in her hand. She donned the hat, +twisting it to a coquettish angle, and Baxter unctuously assisted her +to place the wrap about her shoulders. + +"Lorna, I forbid your going out at this time of the evening with two +gentlemen we have never met before," cried Mary. + +But Lorna opened the door and wilfully left the room, followed by +Craig. Baxter turned as he left, and smiled sarcastically. + +"Good-_night_!" he remarked, with a significant accent on the last word. + +Mary's face was white, as she looked appealingly at Burke. He tried to +comfort her in his quiet way. + +"I wouldn't worry, Miss Mary. I think they are nice young fellows, and +you know young girls are the same the world over. I am sure they are +all right, and will look after her--you know, some people do think a +whole lot of dancing and jolly company, and it is punishment for them +to have to talk all the time on serious things. I don't blame her, for +I'm poor company--and only a policeman, after all." + +John Barton looked disconsolately at the door which had slammed after +the trio. + +"You do think it's all right, don't you, Burke?" + +"Why, certainly," said Burke. He lied like a gentleman and a soldier. + +Old Barton was ill at ease, although he endeavored to cover his anxiety +with his usual optimism. + +"We are too hard on the youngsters, I fear," he began. "It's true that +Lorna has not had very much pleasure since I was injured. The poor +child has had many sleepless nights of worry since then, as well. You +know she has always been our baby, while my Mary here has been the +little mother since my dear wife left us." + +Mary forced a smiling reply: "You dear daddy, don't worry. I know +Lorna's fine qualities, and I wish we could entertain more for her than +we do right in our little flat. That's one of the causes of New York's +unnatural life. In the small towns and suburbs girls have porches and +big parlors, while they live in a surrounding of trees and flowers. +They have home music, jolly gatherings about their own pianos; we can't +afford even to rent a piano just now. So, there, daddy, be patient and +forgive Lorna's thoughtlessness." + +Barton's face beamed again, as he caressed his daughter's soft brown +curls, when she leaned over his chair to kiss him. + +"My blessed little Mary: you are as old as your mother--as old as all +motherhood, in your wisdom. I feel more foolishly a boy each day, as I +realize the depth of your devotion and love." + +Burke's eyes filled with tears, which he manfully wiped away with a +sneaking little movement of his left hand, as he pretended to look out +of the window toward the distant lights. A man whose tear-ducts have +dried with adolescence is cursed with a shriveled soul for the rest of +his life. + +"Now, we mustn't let our little worry make you feel badly, Mr. Burke. +Do you know, I've been thinking about a little matter in which you are +concerned? Why don't you have your interests looked after in your home +town?" + +"My uncle? Well, I am afraid that's a lost cause. I went to the +family lawyer when I returned from my army service, and he charged me +five dollars for advising me to let the matter go. He said that law +was law, and that the whole matter had been ended, that I had no +recourse. I think I'll just stick to my work, and let my uncle get +what pleasure he can out of his treatment of me." + +"That is a great mistake. If he was your family lawyer, it is very +possible that your uncle anticipated your going to him. And some +lawyers have elastic notions of what is possible--depending upon the +size of your fee. Now, I have a young friend down town. He is a +patent lawyer, and I trust him. Why don't you let him look into this +matter. I have given him other cases before, through my connections +with the Greshams. He proved honorable and energetic. Let me write +you out a letter of introduction." + +"Perhaps you are right. I appreciate your advice and it will do no +harm to let him try his best," said Bobbie. "I'll give him the facts +and let him investigate matters." + +The old man wrote a note while Burke and Mary became better acquainted. +Even in her attempt to speak gaily and happily, Bobbie could discern +her worriment. As Barton finished his writing, handing the envelope to +Burke, the younger man decided to take a little initiative of his own. + +"It's late, Mr. Barton. I have had a pleasant evening, and I hope I +may have many more. But you know I promised Doctor MacFarland, the +police surgeon, that I would go to bed early on the days when I was off +duty. So I had better be getting back down town." + +They protested cordially, but Bobbie was soon out on the street, +walking toward the Subway. + +He did not take the train for his own neighborhood, however. Instead +he boarded a local which stopped at Sixty-sixth Street, the heart of +what is called the "New Tenderloin." + +In this district are dozens of dance halls, flashy restaurants and +_cafés chantantes_. A block from the Subway exit was the well-known +establishment called "Dawley's." This was the destination of Baxter +and Craig, with Lorna Barton. Bobbie thought it well to take an +observation of the social activities of these two young men. + +He entered the big, glittering room, his coat and hat rudely jerked +from his arms by a Greek check boy, at the doorway, without the useless +formula of request. + +The tables were arranged about the walls, leaving an open space in the +center for dancing. Nearly every chair was filled, while the popping +of corks and the clinking of glasses even so early in the evening +testified to the popularity of Dawley's. + +"They seem to prefer this sort of thing to theaters," thought Bobbie. +"Anyway, this crowd is funnier than most comedies I've seen." + +He looked around him, after being led to a corner seat by the +obsequious head waiter. There was a preponderance of fat old men and +vacuous looking young girls of the type designated on Broadway as +"chickens." Here and there a slumming party was to be seen--elderly +women and ill-at-ease men, staring curiously at the diners and dancers; +young married couples who seemed to be enjoying their self-thrilled +deviltry and new-found freedom. An orchestra of negro musicians were +rattling away on banjos, mandolins, and singing obligatos in +deep-voiced improvisations. The drummer and the cymbalist were the +busiest of all; their rattling, clanging, banging addition to the music +gave it an irresistible rhythmic cadence. Even Burke felt the call of +the dance, until he studied the evolutions of the merrymakers. Oddly +assorted couples, some in elaborate evening dress, women in +shoulderless, sleeveless, backless gowns, men in dinner-coats, girls in +street clothes with yard-long feathers, youths in check suits, old men +in staid business frock coats--what a motley throng! All were busily +engaged in the orgy of a bacchanalian dance in which couples reeled and +writhed, cheek to cheek, feet intertwining, arms about shoulders. +Instead of enjoying themselves the men seemed largely engaged in +counting their steps, and watching their own feet whenever possible: +the girls kept their eyes, for the most part, upon the mirrors which +covered the walls, each watching her poises and swings, her hat, her +curls, her lips, with obvious complacency. + +Burke was nauseated, for instead of the old-time fun of a jolly dance, +this seemed some weird, unnatural, bestial, ritualistic evolution. + +"And they call this dancing?" he muttered. "But, I wonder where Miss +Lorna is?" + +He finally espied her, dancing with Baxter. The latter was swinging +his arms and body in a snakey, serpentine one-step, as he glided down +the floor, pushing other couples out of the way. Lorna, like the other +girls, lost no opportunity to admire her own reflection in the mirrors. + +Burke was tempted to rush forward and intercede, to pull her out of the +arms of the repulsive Baxter. But he knew how foolish he would appear, +and what would be the result of such an action. + +As he looked the waiter approached for his order. + +Burke took the menu, decorated with dancing figures which would have +seemed more appropriate for some masquerade ball poster, for the Latin +Quarter, and began to read the _entrees_. + +As he looked down two men brushed past his table, and a sidelong glance +gave him view of a face which made him quickly forget the choice of +food. + +It was Jimmie the Monk, flashily dressed, debonnaire as one to the +manor born, talking with Craig, the companion of Baxter. + +Burke held the menu card before his face. He was curious to hear the +topic of their conversation. When he did so--the words were clear and +distinct, as Baxter and Jimmie sat down at a table behind him--his +heart bounded with horror. + +"Who's dis new skirt, Craig?" + +"Oh, it's a kid Baxter picked up in Monnarde's candy store. It's the +best one he's landed yet, but we nearly got in Dutch to-night when we +went up to her flat to bring her out. Her old man and her sister were +there with some nut, and they didn't want her to go. But Baxter +"lamped" her, and she fell for his eyes and sneaked out anyway. You +better keep off, Jimmie, for you don't look like a college boy--and +that's the gag Baxter's been giving her. She thinks she's going to a +dance at the Yale Club next week. It's harder game than the last one, +but we'll get it fixed to-night. You better send word to Izzie to +bring up his taxi--in about an hour." + +"I'll go now, Craig. Tell Baxter dat it'll be fixed. Where'll he take +her?" + +Craig replied in a low tone, which thwarted Burke's attempt to +eavesdrop. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE WORK OF THE GANGSTERS + +Bobbie Burke's eyes sparkled with the flame of battle spirit, yet he +maintained an outward calm. He turned his face toward the wall of the +restaurant while Jimmie the Monk tripped nonchalantly out into the +street. Burke did not wish to be recognized too soon. The negro +musicians struck up a livelier tune than before. The dancing couples +bobbed and writhed in the sensuous, shameless intimacies of the +demi-mondaine bacchante. The waiters merrily juggled trays, stacked +skillfully with vari-colored drinks, and bumped the knees of the +close-sitting guests with silvered champagne buckets. Popping corks +resounded like the distant musketry of the crack sharp-shooters of the +Devil's Own. Indeed, this was an ambuscade of the greatest, oldest, +cruellest, most blood-thirsty conflict of civilized history--the War of +the Roses--the Massacre of the Innocents! In Bobbie's ears the +jangling tambourine, the weird splutterings of the banjos, the twanging +of the guitars, the shrill music of the violins and clarionet, the +monotonous rag-time pom-pom of the piano accompanist, the clash and +bang of cymbal and base-drum, the coarse minor cadences of the negro +singers--all so essential to cabaret dancing of this class--sounded +like the war pibroch of a Satanic clan of reincarnate fiends. + +The waiter was serving some savory viands, for such establishments +cater cleverly to the beast of the dining room as well as of the +boudoir. + +But Burke was in no mood to eat or drink. His soul was sickened, but +his mind was working with lightning acumen. + +"Bring me my check now as I may have to leave before you come around +again," he directed his waiter. + +"Yes, sir, certainly," responded the Tenderloin Dionysius, not without +a shade of regret in his cackling voice. Early eaters and short +stayers reduced the percentage on tips, while moderate orders of drinks +meant immoderate thrift--to the waiter. + +The check was forthcoming at once. Burke quietly corrected the +addition of the items to the apparent astonishment of the waiter. He +produced the exact change, while a thunder-storm seemed imminent on the +face of his servitor. Burke, however, drew forth a dollar bill from +his pocket, and placed it with the other change, smiling significantly. + +"Oh, sir, thank you"--began the waiter, surprised into the strictly +unprofessional weakness of an appreciation. + +Bobbie, with a left-ward twitch of his head, and a slight quiver of the +lid of his left eye, brought an attentive ear close to his mouth. + +"My boy, I want you to go outside and have the taxicab starter reserve +a machine for 'Mr. Green.' Tell him to have it run forward and clear +of the awning in front of the restaurant--slip him this other dollar, +now, and impress on him that I want that car about twenty-five feet to +the right of the door as you go out." + +The waiter nodded, and leered slyly. + +"All right, sir--I get ye, Mr. Green. It's a quick getaway, is that +it?" + +"Exactly," answered Bobbie, "and I want the chauffeur to have all his +juice on--the engine cranked and ready for another Vanderbilt Cup +Race." Bobbie gave the waiter one of his best smiles--behind that +smile was a manful look, a kindliness of character and a great power of +purpose, which rang true, even to this blasé and cynical dispenser of +the grape. The latter nodded and smiled, albeit flabbily, into the +winsome eyes of the young officer. + +"Ye're a reg'lar fellar, Mr. Green, I kin see that! Trust me to have a +lightning conductor fer you--with his lamps lit and burning. These +nighthawk taxis around here make most of their mazuma by this fly +stuff--generally the souses ain't got enough left for a taxicab, and +it's a waste o' time stickin' 'em up since the rubes are so easy with +the taxi meter. But just look out for a little badger work on the +chauffeur when ye git through with 'im." + +Burke nodded. Then he added. "Just keep this to yourself, won't you? +There's nothing crooked about it--I'm trying to do some one a good +turn. Tell them to keep the taxi ready, no matter how long it takes." + +"Sure and I will, Mr. Green." + +The waiter walked away toward the front door, where he carried out +Burke's instructions, slipping the second bill into the willing hand of +the starter. + +As he came back he shrewdly studied the face of the young policeman who +was quietly listening to the furious fusillade of the ragtime musicians. + +"Well, that guy's not as green as he says his name is. He don't look +like no crook, neither! I wonder what his stall is? Well, _I_ should +worry!" + +And he went his way rejoicing in the possession of that peace of mind +which comes to some men who let neither the joys nor woes of others +break through the armament of their own comfortable placidity. Every +night of his life was crowded with curious, sad and ridiculous +incidents; had he let them linger long in his mind his hand and +temperament would have suffered a loss of accumulative skill. That +would have spelled ruin, and this particular waiter, like so many of +his flabby-faced brothers, was a shrewd tradesman--in the commodities +of his discreetly elastic memory--and the even more valuable asset, a +talent for forgetting! + +Burke was biding his time, and watching developments. + +He saw the mealy-faced Baxter take Lorna out upon the dancing floor for +the next dance. They swung into the rhythm of the dance with easy +familiarity, which proved that the girl was no novice in this style of +terpsichorean enjoyment. + +"She has been to other dances like this," muttered Bobbie as he watched +with a strange loathing in his heart. "It's terrible to see the girls +of a great modern city like New York entering publicly into a dance +which I used to see on the Barbary Coast in 'Frisco. If they had seen +it danced out there I don't believe they'd be so anxious to imitate it +now." + +Lorna and Baxter returned through the crowded merrymakers to their +seats, and sat down at the table. + +"You need another cocktail," suggested Baxter, after sipping one +himself and forgetting the need for reserve in his remarks. "You +mustn't be a bum sport at a dance like this, Miss Barton." + +"Oh, Mr. Baxter, I don't dare go home with a breath like cocktails. +You know Mary and I sleep together," objected Lorna. + +"Don't worry about that, little girlie," said Baxter. "She won't mind +it to-night." + +To Burke's keen ears there was a shade of hidden menace in the words. + +"Come on, now, just this one," said Baxter coaxingly. "It won't hurt. +There's always room for one more." + +What a temptation it was for the muscular policeman to swing around and +shake the miserable wretch as one would a cur! + +But Bobbie had learned the value of controlling his temper; that is one +of the first requisites of a policeman's as well as of an army man's +life. + +"Do you know, Mr. Baxter," said Lorna, after she had yielded to the +insistence of her companion, "that cocktail makes me a little dizzy. I +guess it will take me a long while to get used to such drinks. You +know, I've been brought up in an awfully old-fashioned way. My father +would simply kill me if he thought I drank beer--and as for cocktails +and highballs and horse's necks, and all those real drinks ... well, I +hate to think of it. Ha! ha!" + +And she laughed in a silly way which made Burke know that she was +beginning to feel the effect. + +"I wonder if I hadn't better assert myself right now?" he mused, +pretending to eat a morsel. "It would cause a commotion, but it would +teach her a lesson, and would teach her father to keep a closer watch." + +Just then he heard his own name mentioned by the girl behind. + +"Say, Mr. Baxter, you came just at the right time to-night. That Burke +who was calling on father is a stupid policeman, whom he met in the +hospital, and I was being treated to a regular sermon about life and +wickedness and a lot of tiresome rot. I don't like policemen, do you?" + +"I should say not!" was Baxter's heartfelt answer. + +They were silent an instant. + +"A policeman, you say, eh?" + +"Yes; I certainly don't think he's fit to call on nice people. The +next think we know father will have firemen and cab-drivers and street +cleaners, I suppose. They're all in the same class to me--just +servants." + +"What precinct did he come from?" + +Baxter's tone was more earnest than it had been. + +Burke's face reddened at the girl's slur, but he continued his waiting +game. + +"Precinct? What's that? I don't know where he came from. He's a New +York policeman, that's all I found out. It didn't interest me, why +should it you? Oh, Mr. Baxter, look at that beautiful willow plume on +that girl's hat. She is a silly-looking girl, but that is a wonderful +hat." + +Baxter grunted and seemed lost in thought. + +Burke espied Jimmie the Monk meandering through the tables, in company +with a heavy, smooth-faced man whose eyes were directed from even that +distance toward the table at which Lorna sat. + +Burke wiped his forehead with his handkerchief, thus cutting off +Jimmie's possible view of his features. + +"Ah, Jimmie, back again. And I see you're with my old friend, Sam +Shepard!" + +Baxter rose to shake hands with the newcomer. He introduced him to +Lorna, backing close against Burke's shoulder as he did so. + +"This is my friend, Sam Shepard, the theatrical manager, Miss Lorna," +began Baxter. "He's the man who can get you on the stage. You know I +was telling you about him. This is Miss Barton, you've heard about, +Sam. Sit down and tell her about your new comic opera that you're +casting now." + +[Illustration: "This is my friend, Sam Shepard, the theatrical manager, +Miss Lorna. He's the man who can get you on the stage.] + +As Shepard shook Lorna's hand, Jimmie leaned over toward Baxter's ear +to whisper. They were not two feet from Burke's own ears, so he heard +the message: "I've got de taxi ready. Now, make a good getaway to +Reilly's house, Baxter." + +"Say, Jimmie, just a minute," murmured Baxter. "This girl says a cop +was up calling on her father. I met the guy. His name was Burke. Do +you know him? Is he apt to queer anything?" + +Jimmie the Monk started. + +"Burke? What did he look like?" + +"Oh, pretty slick-looking gink. Well set-up--looked like an army man, +and gave me a hard stare when he lamped me. Had been in the hospital +with the old fellow." + +"Gee, dat's Burke, de guy dat's been after me, and I'm goin' ter do +'im. Is he buttin' in on dis?" + +"Yes; what about him? You're not scared of him, are you?" + +"Naw; but he's a bad egg. Say, he's a rookie dat t'inks 'e kin clean +up our gang. Now, you better dish dis job and let Shepard pull de +trick. Take it from yer Uncle Jim!" + +Every syllable was audible to Burke, but Lorna was exchanging +pleasantries with Shepard, who had taken Baxter's seat. + +"All right, Jimmie. Beat it yourself." + +Baxter turned around as Jimmie quietly slipped away. Baxter leaned +over the table to smirk into the face of the young girl. + +"Say, Miss Lorna, some of my friends are over in another corner of the +room, and I'm going to speak to them. Now, save the next tango for me. +Mr. Shepard will fix it for you, and if you jolly him right you can get +into his new show, 'The Girl and the Dragon,' can't she, Sam?" + +"Where are you going?" exclaimed Shepard in a gruff tone. "You've got +to attend to something for me to-night." + +There was a brutal dominance which vibrated in his voice. Here was a +desperate character, thought Burke, who was accustomed to command +others; he was not the flabby weakling type, like Baxter and Craig. + +"It's better for you to do it, Sam. I'll tell you later. Jimmie just +tipped me off that there's a bull on the trail that's lamped me." + +Burke understood the shifting of their business arrangement, but to +Lorna the crook's slang was so much gibberish. + +"What did you say? I can't understand such funny talk, Mr. Baxter. I +guess I had too strong a cocktail, he! he!" she exclaimed. "What about +a lamp?" + +"That's all right, girlie," said Shepard, as Baxter walked quickly +away. "Some of his friends want him to go down to the Lamb's Club, but +he doesn't want to leave you. We'll have a little chat together while +he is gone. I'm not very good at dancing or I'd get you to turkey trot +with me." + +Lorna's voice was whiny now as she responded. + +"Oh, I'm feeling funny. That cocktail was too much for me.... I guess +I'd better go home." + +"There, there, my dear," Shepard reassured her. "You get that way for +a little while, but it's all right. You'd better have a little +beer--that will straighten you up." + +Only by the strongest will power could Burke resist his desire to +interpose now, yet the words of the men prepared him for something +which it would be more important to wait for--to interfere at the +dramatic moment. + +"Here, waiter, a bottle of beer!" ordered Shepard. + +Burke turned half way around, and, by a side-long glance, he saw +Shepard pulling a small vial from his hip pocket as he sat with his +back to the policeman. + +"Oh, ho! So here it comes!" thought Bobbie. "I'll be ready to stand +by now." + +He rose and pushed back his chair. The waiter had brought the bottle +with surprising alacrity, and Shepard poured out a glass for the young +girl. Bobbie stood fumbling with his change as an excuse to watch. +Lorna was engrossed in the bubbling foam of the beer and did not notice +him. + +"I guess he's afraid to do it now," thought Bobbie, as he failed to +observe any suspicious move. + +True, Shepard's hand passed swiftly over the glass as he handed it to +the girl. + +She drank it at his urging, and then suddenly her head sank forward on +her breast. + +Bobbie stifled his indignation with difficulty as Shepard gave an +exclamation of surprise. + +"My wife! She is sick! She has fainted!" cried Shepard to Burke's +amazement. The man acted his part cunningly. + +He had sprung to his feet as he rushed around the table to catch the +toppling girl. With a quick jump to her side Bobbie had caught her by +an arm, but Shepard indignantly pushed him aside. + +"How dare you, sir?" he exclaimed. "Take your hands off my wife." + +The man's bravado was splendid, and even the diners were impressed. +Most of them laughed, for to them it was only another drunken woman, a +familiar and excruciatingly funny object to most of them. + +"Aw, let the goil alone," cried one red-faced man who sat with a small, +heavily rouged girl of about sixteen. "Don't come between man and +wife!" And he laughed with coarse appreciation of his own humor. + +Shepard had lifted Lorna with his strong arms and was starting toward +the door. Burke saw the entrance to the men's café on the right. He +quietly walked into it, and then hurried toward the front, out through +the big glass door to the street. + +There, about twenty feet to his right, he saw the purring taxicab which +he had ordered waiting for a quick run. + +In front of the restaurant entrance, now to his left, was another car, +with a chauffeur standing by its open door, expectantly. + +Burke ran up just as Shepard emerged from the restaurant entrance. The +officer sprang at the big fellow and dealt him a terrible blow on the +side of the head. The man staggered and his hold weakened. As he did +so Burke caught the inanimate form of the young girl in his own arms. +He turned before Shepard or the waiting chauffeur could recover from +their surprise and ran toward the car at the right. The two men were +after him, but Burke lifted the girl into the machine and cried to the +chauffeur: + +"Go it!" + +"Who are you?" + +"I'm Mr. Green," said Burke. The chauffeur sprang into his seat, but +as he did so Shepard was upon the young officer and trying to climb +into the door. + +Biff! + +Here was a chance for every ounce of accumulated ire to assert itself, +and it did so, through the hardened muscles of Officer 4434's right +arm. Shepard sank backward with a groan, as the taxi-cab shot forward +obedient to its throttle. + +Burke was bounced backward upon the unconscious girl, but the machine +sped swiftly with a wise chauffeur at its wheel. He did not know where +his passenger wished to go, but his judgment told him it was away from +pursuit. + +He turned swiftly down the first street to the right. + +Back on the sidewalk before the restaurant there was intense +excitement. Baxter, Craig and Jimmie the Monk had followed the artful +Shepard to the street by the side door. They assisted the chauffeur in +picking up the bepummeled man from the sidewalk. + +"Say, Jimmie! There's somebody shadowing us. Get into that cab of +Mike's and we'll chase him!" cried Baxter. + +They rushed for the other cab, leaving Craig to mop Shepard's wan face +with a perfumed handkerchief. + +After the slight delay of cranking it the second car whizzed along the +street. But that delay was fatal to the purpose of the pursuers, for +ere they had reached the corner down which the first machine had turned +the entire block was empty. Burke's driver had made another right turn. + +Bobbie opened the door and yelled to the chauffeur as he hung to the +jamb with difficulty. + +"Drive past the restaurant again very slowly, but don't stop. Then +keep on going straight up the avenue." + +The chauffeur knew the advantage of doubling on a trail, and by the +time he had passed the restaurant after a third and fourth right +turn--making a trip completely around the block--the excitement had +died down. The pursuers had gone on a wild-goose chase in the opposite +direction, little suspecting such a simple trick. + +The taxicab rumbled nonchalantly up the avenue for five or six blocks, +while Burke worked in a vain effort to restore his fair prisoner to +consciousness. + +The car stopped in a dark stretch between blocks. + +"Where shall I go, governor?" asked the chauffeur as he jumped down and +opened the door. "Is your lady friend any better, governor?" + +Burke looked at the man's face as well as he could in the dim light, +wondering if he could be trusted. He decided that it was too big a +chance, for there is a secret fraternity among chauffeurs and the +denizens of the Tenderloin which is more powerful than any benevolent +order ever founded. This man would undoubtedly tell of his destination +to some other driver, surely to the starter at the restaurant. Then it +would be a comparatively simple matter for Baxter and Jimmie the Monk +to learn the details in enough fullness to track his own identity. For +certain reasons, already formulated, Bobbie Burke wished to keep Jimmie +and his gangsters in blissful ignorance of his own knowledge of their +activities. + +"This is my girl, and one of those fellows tried to steal her," said +Burke in a gruff voice. "I was onto the game, and that's why I had the +starter get you ready. She lives on West Seventy-first Street, near +West End Avenue. Now, you run along on the right side of the street, +and I'll point out the house." + +He was planning a second "double" on his trail. The chauffeur grunted +and started the machine again. The girl was moaning with pain in an +incoherent way. + +As they rolled slowly down West Seventy-first Street Bobbie saw a house +which showed a light in the third floor. Presumably the storm door +would not be locked, as it would have been in case the tenants were +away. He knocked on the window. + +The taxi came to a stop. + +The chauffeur opened the door and Burke sprang out. + +"Here's a ten-dollar bill, my boy," said Burke. "I'll have to square +her with her mother, so you come back here in twenty minutes and take +me down to that restaurant. I'm going to clean out that joint, and +I'll pay you another ten to help me. Are you game?" + +The chauffeur laughed wisely. + +"Am I game? Just watch me." + +Burke lifted Lorna out and turned toward the steps. + +"Now, don't leave me in the lurch. Be back in exactly twenty minutes, +and I'll be on the job--and we'll make it some job. But, don't let the +folks see you standing around, or they'll think I've been up to some +game. Her old man will start some shooting. Come back for me." + +The chauffeur chuckled as he climbed into his car and drove away, +planning a little himself. + +"Any guy that has a girl as swell as that one to live on this street +will be good for a hundred dollars before I get through with him," he +muttered as he took a chew of tobacco. "And I've got the number of +that house, too. Her old man will give a good deal to keep this out of +the papers. I know my business, even if I didn't go to college!" + +As the chauffeur disappeared around the corner, after taking a look +toward the steps up which Burke had carried his unconscious burden, the +policeman put Lorna down inside the vestibule. + +"Now, this is a dangerous game. It means disgrace if I get caught; but +it means a pair of broken hearts if this poor girl gets caught," he +thought. "I'll risk nobody coming, and run for another taxi." + +He hastened down the steps and walked around the corner, hurrying +toward a big hotel which stood not far from Broadway. Here he found +another taxicab. + +"There's a young lady sick at the house of one of my friends, and I'm +taking her home," said Burke to the driver. "Hurry up, please." + +The second automobile sped over the street to the house where Burke had +left the girl, and the officer hurried up the steps. He soon +reappeared with Lorna in his arms, walked calmly down the steps, and +put her into the car. + +This time he gave the correct home address, and the taxicab rumbled +along on the last stretch of the race. + +They passed the first car, whose driver was already planning the ways +to spend the money which he was to make by a little scientific +blackmail. + +He was destined to a long wait in front of the brownstone mansion. + +After nearly an hour he decided to take things into his own hands. + +"I'll get a little now," he muttered with an accompaniment of +profanity. "That guy can't stall me." + +After ringing the bell for several minutes a very angry caretaker came +to the door. + +"What do you want, my man?" cried this individual in unmistakable +British accents. "Dash your blooming impudence in waking me up at this +time in the morning." + +"I want to get my taxicab fare from the gent that brought the lady here +drunk!" declared the chauffeur. "Are you her father?" + +The caretaker shook a fist in his face as he snapped back: + +"I'm nobody's father. There ain't no gent nor drunk lady here. I'm +alone in this house, and my master and missus is at Palm Beach. If you +don't get away from here I'm going to call the police." + +With that he slammed the door in the face of the astounded chauffeur +and turned out the light in the hall. + +The taxi driver walked down the steps slowly. + +"Well, that's a new game on me!" he grunted. "There's a new gang +working this town as sure as I'm alive. I'm going down and put the +starter wise." + +Down he went, to face a cross-examination from the starter, and an +accounting for his time. He had to pay over seven dollars of his ten +to cover the period for which he had the car out. Jimmie the Monk and +Baxter had returned from their unsuccessful chase. As they made their +inquiries from the starter and learned the care with which the coup +d'êtat had been arranged they lapsed into angry, if admiring, profanity. + +"Some guy, eh, Jimmie!" exclaimed Baxter. "But we'll find out who it +was, all right. Leave it to me!" + +"Say, dat bloke was crazy--crazy like a fox, wasn't he?" answered +Jimmie. "He let Shepard do de deal, and den he steals de kitty! Dis +is what I calls cut-throat competition!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE CLOSER BOND + +Once in the second taxicab Burke's difficulties were not at an end. + +"I want to get this poor young girl home without humiliating her or her +family, if I can," was his mental resolve. "But I can't quite plan it. +I wish I could take her to Dr. MacFarland, but his office is 'way +downtown from here." + +When the car drew up before the door of Lorna's home, from which she +had departed in such blithe spirits, Bob's heart was thumping almost +guiltily. He felt in some ridiculous way as though he were almost +responsible for her plight himself. Perhaps he had done wrong to wait +so long. Yet, even his quick eyesight had failed to discover the +knockout drops or powder which the wily Shepard had slipped into that +disastrous glass of beer. Maybe his interference would have saved her +from this unconscious stupor, indeed, he felt morally certain that it +would; but Bob knew in his heart that the clever tricksters would have +turned the tables on him effectively, and undoubtedly in the end would +have won their point by eluding him and escaping with the girl. It was +better that their operations should be thwarted in a manner which would +prevent them from knowing how sharply they were watched. Bob knew that +these men were to be looked after in the future. + +He cast aside his thoughts to substitute action. + +"Here's your number, mister," said the chauffeur, who opened the door. +"Can I help you with the lady?" + +"Thank you, no. What's the charge?" + +The driver twisted the lamp around to show the meter, and Burke paid +him a good tip over the price of the ride. + +"Shall I wait for you?" asked the driver. + +"No; that's all. I'll walk to the subway as soon as my friend gets in. +Good night." + +The chauffeur lingered a bit as Bob took the girl in his arms. The +officer understood the suggestion of his hesitation. + +"I said good night!" he spoke curtly. + +The taxi man understood this time; there was no mistaking the firmness +of the hint, and he started his machine away. + +The Bartons lived in one of the apartments of the building. The front +door was locked, and so Bob was forced reluctantly to ring the bell +beneath the name which indicated their particular letter box. + +He waited, holding the young girl in his arms. + +"Oh, I'm so sick!" he heard her say faintly, and he realized that she +was regaining consciousness. + +"If only I can get her upstairs quietly," he thought. + +He was about to swing her body around in his arms so that he could ring +once more when there was a turning of the knob. + +"Who is it?" came a frightened voice. + +It was Mary Barton at the doorway. + +"S-s-s-h!" cautioned Bob. "It's Burke. I'm bringing Miss Lorna home? +Don't make any noise." + +"Oh!" gasped the unhappy sister. "What's wrong? Is she hurt?" + +"No!" said Bob. "Fortunately not." + +"Is she-- Oh-- Is she--drunk?" + +Burke calmed her with the reassurance of his low, steady voice. + +"No, Miss Mary. She was drugged by those rascals, and I saved her in +time. Please don't cry, or make a noise. Let me take her upstairs and +help you. It's better if she does not know that I was the one to bring +her home." + +Mary tried to help him; but Bob carried the girl on into the hall. + +"Is your father awake?" + +"No; I told him two hours ago, when he asked me from his room, that +Lorna had returned and was asleep. He believed me. I had to fib to +save him from breaking his dear old daddy heart. Is she injured at +all?" + +It was plainly evident that the poor girl was holding her nerves in +leash with a tremendous effort. + +Bob kept on toward the stairs. + +"She'll be all right when you get her into her room. Give her some +smelling salts, and don't tell your father. Didn't he hear the bell?" + +"No; I've been waiting for her. I put some paper in the bell so that +it would only buzz when it rang. Let me help you, Mr. Burke. How on +earth did you----" She was eager in spite of her anxiety. + +To see the young officer returning with her sister this way was more of +a mystery than she could fathom. But, at Bob's sibilant command for +silence, she trustingly obeyed, and went up before him to guide the way +along the darkened stairway. + +At last they reached the door of their apartment. + +Mary opened it, and Bob entered, walking softly. She led the way to +her humble little bedroom, the one which she and Lorna shared. Bob +laid the sister upon the bed, and beckoned Mary to follow him. Lorna +was moving now, her hands tremulous, and she was half-moaning. + +"I want my Mary. I want my Mary." + +Her sister followed Burke out into the hall, which led down the steps +to the street. + +"Now, remember, don't tell her about being drugged. A man at one of +the tables put some knockout drops into a glass of water"--Bob was +softening the blow with a little honest lying--"and I rescued her just +in time. She knows nothing about it--only warn her about the company +that she was in. I have learned that they are worse than worthless. I +will attend to them in my own way, and in the line of my work, Miss +Mary. But, as you love your sister, don't ever let her go with those +men again." + +Mary's hand was outstretched toward the young man's, and he took it +gently. + +"You've done much for Lorna," she breathed softly, "and more for me!" + +There was a sweet pressure from those soft, clasping fingers which +thrilled Bob as though somehow he was burying his face in a bunch of +roses--like that first one which had tapped its soft message for +admission to his heart, back in the hospital. + +"Good night. Don't worry. It's all ended well, after all." + +Mary drew away her fingers reluctantly as he backed down one step. + +"Good night--Bob!" + +That was all. She slipped quietly inside the apartment and closed the +door noiselessly behind her. + +Bob slowly descended the steps; oddly enough, he felt as though it were +an ascension of some sort. His life seemed to be going into higher +planes, and his hopes and ambitions came fluttering into his brain like +the shower of petals from some blossom-laden tree. He felt anew the +spring of old dreams, and the surge of new ones. + +He stumbled, unsteady in his steps, his hands trembling on the railing +of the stairs, until he reached the street level. He hurried out +through the hallway and closed the door behind him. + +How he longed to retrace his steps for just one more word! That first +tender use of his name had a wealth of meaning which stirred him more +than a torrent of endearing terms. + +The keen bracing air of the early spring morning thrilled him. + +He hurried down the street toward the subway station, elated, exalted. + +"It's worth fighting every gangster in New York for a girl like her!" +he told himself. "I never realized how bitter all this was until it +struck home to me--by striking home to some one who is loved by the +girl--I love." + +The trip downtown was more tiring than he had expected. The stimulus +of his exciting evening was now wearing off, and Bob went direct to the +station house to be handy for the duty which began early in the day. +It was not yet dawn, but the rattling milk carts, the stirring of +trucks and the early stragglers of morning workers gave evidence that +the sun would soon be out upon his daily travels. + +The day passed without more excitement than usual. Bob took his turn +after a short nap in the dormitory room of the station house. During +his relief he rested up again. When he was preparing to start out +again upon patrol a letter was handed him by the captain. + +"Here, Burke, a little message from your best girl, I suppose," smiled +his superior. + +Bob took it, and as he opened it again he felt that curious thrill +which had been aroused in him by the winsome charm of Mary Barton. It +was a brief note which she had mailed that morning on her way to work. + + +"DEAR MR. BURKE--Everything was all right after all our worry. Lorna +is heartily repentant, and thinks that she had to be brought home by +one of her 'friends' (?). She has promised never to go with them +again, and, aside from a bad headache to-day, she is no worse for her +folly. Father knows nothing, and, dear soul, I feel that it is better +so. I can never thank you enough. I hope to see you soon. + + "Cordially, + "MARY." + + +Bob folded the note and tucked it into his breast pocket. The captain +had been watching him with shrewd interest, and presently he +intercepted: "Ah, now, I guessed right. Why, Bobbie Burke, you're even +blushing like a schoolgirl over her first beau." + +Burke was just a trifle resentful under the sharp look of the captain's +gray eyes; but the unmistakable friendliness of the officer's face +drove away all feeling. + +"I envy you, my boy. I am not making fun of you," said the captain, +with keen understanding. + +"Thank you, Cap," said Bob quietly. "You guessed right both times. +It's my first sweetheart." + +He buttoned his coat and started for the door. + +"You'd better step around to Doc MacFarland's on your rounds this +evening and let him look you over. It won't take but a minute, and I +don't expect him around the station. You're not on peg-post to-night, +so you can do it." + +"All right, Cap." + +Burke saluted and left the station, falling into line with the other +men who were marching out on relief. + +A half hour later he dropped into the office of the police surgeon, and +was greeted warmly by the old gentleman. + +MacFarland was smoking his pipe in comfort after the cares and worries +of a busy day. + +"Any more trouble with the gangsters, Burke?" he asked. + +Bob, after a little hesitation decided to tell him about the adventure +of the night before. + +"I want your advice, Doc, for you understand these things. Do you +suppose there's any danger of Lorna's going out with those fellows +again? You don't suppose that they were actually going to entice her +into some house, do you?" + +MacFarland stroked his gray whiskers. + +"Well, my boy, that is not what we Scotchmen would call a vera canny +thought! You speak foolishly. Why, don't you know that is organized +teamwork just as fine as they make it? Those two fellows, Baxter, I +think you said, and Craig, are typical 'cadets.' They are the pretty +boys who make the acquaintance of the girls, and open the way for +temptation, which is generally attended to by other men of stronger +caliber. This fellow Shepard is undoubtedly one of the head men of +their gang. If Jimmie the Monk is mixed up in it that is the +connecting link between these fellows and the East Side. And it's back +to the East Side that the trail nearly always leads, for over in the +East Side of New York is the feudal fastness of the politician who +tells the public to be damned, and is rewarded with a fortune for his +pains. The politician protects the gangster; the gangster protects the +procurer, and both of them vote early and often for the politician." + +Bob sighed. + +"Isn't there some way that this young girl can be warned about the +dangers she is running into? It's terrible to think of a thing like +this threatening any girl of good family, or any other family for that +matter." + +"You must simply warn her sister and have her watch the younger girl +like a hawk." + +MacFarland cleaned out his pipe with a scalpel knife, and put in +another charge of tobacco. + +He puffed a blue cloud before Bob had replied. + +"I wish there were some way I could get co-operation on this. I'm +going to hunt these fellows down, Doc. But it seems to me that the +authorities in this city should help along." + +"They are helping along. The District Attorney has sent up gangster +after gangster; but it's like a quicksand, Burke--new rascals seem to +slide in as fast as you shovel out the old ones." + +"I have the advantage now that they don't know who is looking after +Lorna," said Bobbie. "But it was a hard job getting them off my track." + +"That was good detective work--as good as I've heard of," said the +doctor. "You just keep shy now. Don't get into more gun fights and +fist scraps for a few days, and you'll get something on them again. +You know your catching them last night was just part of a general law +about crime. The criminal always gives himself away in some little, +careless manner that hardly looks worth while worrying about. Those +two fellows never dreamed of your following them--they let the name of +the restaurant slip out, and probably forgot about it the next minute. +And Jimmie the Monk has given you a clue to work on, to find out the +connection. Keep up your work--but keep a bullet-proof skin for a +while." + +Bob started toward the door. A new idea came to him. + +"Doctor, I've just thought of something. I saw a picture in the paper +to-night of a big philanthropist named Trubus, or something like that, +who is fighting Raines Law Hotels, improper novels, bad moving pictures +and improving morals in general. How do you think it would do to give +him a tip about these fellows? He asks for more money from the public +to carry on their work. They had a big banquet in his honor last +night." + +MacFarland laughed, and took from his desk a letter, which he handed to +Bob with a wink. The young officer was surprised, but took the paper, +and glanced at it. + +"There, Burke, read this letter. If I get one of these a day, I get +five, all in the same tune. Isn't that enough to make a man die a +miser?" + +Officer 4434 took the letter over to the doctor's student lamp and read +with amusement: + + +"DEAR SIR--The Purity League is waging the great battle against sin. + +"You are doubtless aware that in this glorious work it is necessary for +us to defray office and other expenses. Whatever tithe of your +blessings can be donated to our Rescue Fund will be bread cast upon the +waters to return tenfold. + +"A poor widow, whose only child is a beautiful girl of seventeen, has +been taken under the care of our gentle nurses. This unfortunate +woman, a devout church attendant, has been prostrated by the wanton +conduct of her daughter, who has left the influence of home to enter +upon a life of wickedness. + +"If you will contribute one hundred dollars to the support of this +miserable old creature, we will have collected enough to pay her a +pension from the interest of the fund of ten dollars monthly. Upon +receipt of your check for this amount we will send you, express +prepaid, a framed membership certificate, richly embossed in gold, and +signed by the President, Treasurer and Chaplain-Secretary of the Purity +League. Your name will be entered upon our roster as a patron of the +organization. + +"Make all checks payable to William Trubus, President, and on +out-of-town checks kindly add clearing-house fee. + +"'Charity shall cover the multitude of sins.'"--I Peter, iv. 8. + +"Yours for the glory of the Cause, + "WILLIAM TRUBUS, + "President, The Purity League of N. Y." + + +As Officer Burke finished the letter he looked quizzically at Dr. +MacFarland. + +"How large was your check, doctor?" + +"My boy, I came from Scotland. I will give you three guesses." + +"But, doctor, I see the top of the letter-head festooned with about +twenty-five names, all of them millionaires. Why don't these men +contribute the money direct? Then they could save the postage. This +letter is printed, not typewritten. They must have sent out thousands +about this poor old woman. Surely some millionaire could give up one +monkey dinner and endow the old lady?" + +"Burke, you're young in the ways of charity. That old woman is an +endowment herself. She ought to bring enough royalties for the Purity +League to buy three new mahogany desks, hire five new investigators and +four extra stenographers." + +The old doctor's kindly face lost its geniality as he pounded on the +table with rising ire. + +"Burke, I have looked into this organized charity game. It is a +disgrace. Out of every hundred dollars given to a really worthy cause, +in answer to hundreds of thousands of letters, ninety dollars go to +office and executive expenses. When a poor man or a starving woman +finally yields to circumstances and applies to one of these +richly-endowed institutions, do you know what happens?" + +Burke shook his head. + +"The object of divine assistance enters a room, which has nice oak +benches down either side. She, and most of them are women (for men +have a chance to panhandle, and consider it more self-respecting to beg +on the streets than from a religious corporation), waits her turn, +until a dizzy blonde clerk beckons condescendingly. She advances to +the rail, and gives her name, race, color, previous condition of +servitude, her mother's great grandmother's maiden name, and a lot of +other important charitable things. She is then referred to room six +hundred and ninety. There she gives more of her autobiography. From +this room she is sent to the inspection department, and she is +investigated further. If the poor woman doesn't faint from hunger and +exhaustion she keeps up this schedule until she has walked a Marathon +around the fine white marble building devoted to charity. At last she +gets a ticket for a meal, or a sort of trading stamp by which she can +get a room for the night in a vermin-infested lodging house, upon the +additional payment of thirty cents. Now, this may seem exaggerated, +but honestly, my boy, I have given you just about the course of action +of these scientific philanthropic enterprises. They are spic and span +as the quarterdeck of a millionaire's yacht." + +MacFarland was so disgusted with the objects of his tirade that he +tried three times before he could fill his old briar pipe. + +"Doctor, why don't you air these opinions where they will count?" asked +Bobbie. "It's time to stop the graft." + +"When some newspaper is brave enough to risk the enmity of church +people, who don't know real conditions, and thus lose a few +subscribers, or when some really charitable people investigate for +themselves, it will all come out. The real truth of that quotation at +the bottom of the Purity League letter should be expressed this way: +'Charity covers a multitude of hypocrites and grafters.' And to my +mind the dirtiest, foulest, lowest grafter in the world is the man who +does it under the cloak of charity or religion. But a man who +proclaims such a belief as mine is called an atheist and a destroyer of +ideals." + +Burke looked at the old doctor admiringly. + +"If there were more men like you, Doc, there wouldn't be so much +hypocrisy, and there would be more real good done. Anyhow, I believe +I'll look up this angelic Trubus to see what he's like." + +He took up his night stick and started for the door. + +"I've spent too much time in here, even if it was at the captain's +orders. Now I'll go out and earn what the citizens think is the easy +money of a policeman. Good night." + +"Good night, my lad. Mind what I told you, and don't let those East +Side goblins get you." + +Burke had a busy night. + +He had hardly been out of the house before he heard a terrific +explosion a block away, and he ran to learn the cause. + +From crowded tenement houses came swarming an excited, terror-stricken +stream of tenants. The front of a small Italian store had been smashed +in. It was undoubtedly the work of a bomb, and already the cheap +structure of the building had caught the flames. Men and women, +children by the dozen, all screeched and howled in a Babel of half a +dozen languages as Bob, with his fellow officers, tried to calm them. + +The engines were soon at the scene, but not until Bob and others had +dashed into the burning building half a dozen times to guide the +frightened occupants to the streets. + +Mothers would remember that babies had been left inside--after they +themselves had been brought to safety. The long-suffering policemen +would rush back to get the little ones. + +The fathers of these aliens seemed to forget family ties, and even that +chivalry, supposed to be a masculine instinct, for they fought with +fist and foot to get to safety, regardless of their women and the +children. The reserves from the station had to be called out to keep +the fire lines intact, while the grimy firemen worked with might and +main to keep the blaze from spreading. After it was all over Burke +wondered whether these great hordes of aliens were of such benefit to +the country as their political compatriots avowed. He had been reading +long articles in the newspapers denouncing Senators and Representatives +who wished to restrict immigration. He had seen glowing accounts of +the value of strong workers for the development of the country's +enterprise, of the duty of Americans to open their national portal to +the down-trodden of other lands, no matter how ignorant or +poverty-stricken. + +"I believe much of this vice and crime comes from letting this rabble +into the city, where they stay, instead of going out into the country +where they can work and get fresh air and fields. They take the jobs +of honest men, who are Americans, and I see by the papers that there +are two hundred and fifty thousand men out of work and hunting jobs in +New York this spring," mused Bob. "It appears to me as if we might +look after Americans first for a while, instead of letting in more +scum. Cheap labor is all right; but when honest men have to pay higher +taxes to take care of the peasants of Europe who don't want to work, +and who do crowd our hospitals and streets, and fill our schools with +their children, and our jails and hospitals with their work and their +diseases, it's a high price for cheap labor." + +And, without knowing it, Officer 4434 echoed the sentiments of a great +many of his fellow citizens who are not catering to the votes of +foreign-born constituents or making fortunes from the prostitution of +workers' brain and brawn. + +The big steamship companies, the cheap factory proprietors and the +great merchants who sell the sweat-shop goods at high-art prices, the +manipulators of subway and road graft, the political jobbers, the +anarchistic and socialistic sycophants of class guerilla warfare are +continually arguing to the contrary. But the policemen and the firemen +of New York City can tell a different story of the value of our alien +population of more than two million! + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE PURITY LEAGUE AND ITS ANGEL + +In a few days, when an afternoon's relief allowed him the time, Officer +4434 decided to visit the renowned William Trubus. He found the +address of that patron of organized philanthropy in the telephone book +at the station house. + +It was on Fifth Avenue, not far from the windswept coast of the famous +Flatiron Building. + +Burke started up to the building shortly before one o'clock, and he +found it difficult to make his way along the sidewalks of the beautiful +avenue because of the hordes of men and girls who loitered about, +enjoying the last minutes of their luncheon hour. + +Where a few years before had been handsome and prosperous shops, with a +throng of fashionably dressed pedestrians of the city's better classes +on the sidewalks, the district had been taken over by shirtwaist and +cloak factories. The ill-fed, foul-smelling foreigners jabbered in +their native dialects, ogled the gum-chewing girls and grudgingly gave +passage-way to the young officer, who, as usual, when off duty, wore +his civilian clothes. + +"I wonder why these factories don't use the side streets instead of +spoiling the finest avenue in America?" thought Bob. "I guess it is +because the foreigners of their class spoil everything they seem to +touch. Our great granddaddies fought for Liberty, and now we have to +give it up and pay for the privilege!" + +It was with a pessimistic thought like this that he entered the big +office structure in which was located the headquarters of the Purity +League. Bob took the elevator in any but a happy frame of mind. He +was determined to find out for himself just how correct was Dr. +MacFarland's estimate of high-finance-philanthropy. + +On the fourth floor he left the car, and entered the door which bore +the name of the organization. + +A young girl, toying with the wires of a telephone switchboard, did not +bother to look up, despite his query. + +"Yes, dearie," she confided to some one at the other end of the +telephone. "We had the grandest time. He's a swell feller, all right, +and opened nothing but wine all evening. Yes, I had my charmeuse +gown--the one with the pannier, you know, and----" + +"Excuse me," interrupted Burke, "I'd like to speak to the president of +this company." + +The girl looked at him scornfully. + +"Just a minute, girlie, I'm interrupted." She turned to look at Bob +again, and with a haughty toss of her rather startling yellow curls +raised her eyebrows in a supercilious glance of interrogation. + +"What's your business?" + +"That's _my_ business. I want to see Mr. Trubus and not _you_." + +"Well, nix on the sarcasm. He's too busy to be disturbed by every book +agent and insurance peddler in town. Tell me what you want and I'll +see if it's important enough. That's what I'm paid for." + +"You tell him that a policeman from the ---- precinct wants to see him, +and tell him mighty quick!" snapped Burke with a sharp look. + +He expected a change of attitude. But the curious, shifty look in the +girl's face--almost a pallor which overspread its artificial carnadine, +was inexplicable to him at this time. He had cause to remember it +later. + +"Why, why," she half stammered, "what's the matter?" + +"You give him my message." + +The girl did not telephone as Burke had expected her to do, according +to the general custom where switchboard girls send in announcement of +callers to private offices. + +Instead she removed the headgear of the receiver and rose. She went +inside the door at her back and closed it after her. + +"Well, that's some service," thought Burke. "I wonder why she's so +active after indifference?" + +She returned before he had a chance to ruminate further. + +"You can go right in, sir," she said. + +As she sat down she watched him from the corner of her eye. Burke +could not help but wonder at the tense interest in his presence, but +dismissed the thought as he entered the room, and beheld the president +of the Purity League. + +William Trubus was seated at a broad mahogany desk, while before him +was spread a large, old-fashioned family Bible. He held in his left +hand a cracker, which he was munching daintily, as he read in an +abstracted manner from the page before him. In his right hand was a +glass containing a red liquid, which Burke at first sight supposed was +wine. He was soon to be undeceived. + +He stood a full minute while the president of the League mumbled to +himself as he perused the Sacred Writ. Bobbie was thus enabled to get +a clear view of the philanthropist's profile, and to study the great +man from a good point of vantage. + +Trubus was rotund. His cheeks were rosy evidences of good health, good +meals and freedom from anxiety as to where those good meals were to +come from. His forehead was round, and being partially bald, gave an +appearance of exaggerated intellectuality. + +His nose was that of a Roman centurion--bold, cruel as a hawk's beak, +strong-nostriled as a wolf's muzzle. His firm white teeth, as they +crunched on the cracker suggested, even stronger, the semblance to a +carnivorous animal of prey. A benevolent-looking pair of gold-rimmed +glasses sat astride that nose, but Burke noticed that, oddly enough, +Trubus did not need them for his reading, nor later when he turned to +look at the young officer. + +The plump face was adorned with the conventional "mutton-chop" whiskers +which are so generally associated in one's mental picture of bankers, +bishops and reformers. The whiskers were so resolutely black, that +Burke felt sure they must have been dyed, for Trubus' plump hands, with +their wrinkles and yellow blotches, evidenced that the philanthropist +must have passed the three-score milestone of time. + +The white gaiters, the somber black of his well-fitting broadcloth coat +of ministerial cut, the sanctified, studied manner of the man's pose +gave Burke an almost indefinable feeling that before him sat a cleverly +"made-up" actor, not a sincere, natural man of benevolent activities. + +The room was furnished elaborately; some rare Japanese ivories adorned +the desk top. A Chinese vase, close by, was filled with fresh-cut +flowers. Around the walls were handsome oil paintings. Beautiful +Oriental rugs covered the floor. There hung a tapestry from some old +French convent; yonder stood an exquisite marble statue whose value +must have been enormous. + +As Trubus raised the glass to drink the red liquid Bobbie caught the +glint of an enormous diamond ring which must have cost thousands. + +"Well, evidently his charity begins at home!" thought the young man as +he stepped toward the desk. + +Tiring of the wait he addressed the absorbed reader. + +"I beg your pardon, Mr. Trubus, but I was announced and told to come in +here to see you." + +Trubus raised his eyebrows, and slowly turned in his chair. His eyes +opened wide with surprise as he peered over the gold rims at the +newcomer. + +"Well, well, well! So you were, so you were." + +He put down his glass reluctantly. + +"You must pardon me, but I always spend my noon hour gaining +inspiration from the great Source of all inspiration. What can I do +for you? I understand that you are a policeman--am I mistaken?" + +"No, sir; I am a policeman, and I have come to you to get your aid. I +understand that you receive a great deal of money for your campaign for +purifying the city, and so I think you can help me in a certain work." + +Trubus waved the four-carat ring deprecatingly. + +"Ah, my young friend, you are in great error. I do not receive much +money. We toil very ardently for the cause, but worldly pleasures and +the selfishness of our fellow citizens interfere with our solving of +the great task. We are far behind in our receipts. How lamentably +little do we get in response to our requests for aid to charity!" + +He followed Bobbie's incredulous glance at the luxurious furnishings of +his office. + +"Yes, yes, it is indeed a wretched state of affairs. Our efforts never +cease, and although we have fourteen stenographers working constantly +on the lists of people who could aid us, with a number of devout +assistants who cover the field, our results are pitiable." + +He leaned back in his leather-covered mahogany desk chair. + +"Even I, the president of this association, give all my time to the +cause. And for what? A few hundred dollars yearly--a bare modicum. I +am compelled to eat this frugal luncheon of crackers and grape juice. +I have given practically all of my private fortune to this splendid +enterprise, and the results are discouraging. Even the furniture of +this office I have brought down from my home in order that those who +may come to discuss our movement may be surrounded by an environment of +beauty and calm. But, money, much money. Alas!" + +Just at this juncture the door opened and the telephone girl brought in +a basket full of letters, evidently just received from the mail man. + +"Here's the latest mail, Mr. Trubus. All answers to the form letters, +to judge from the return envelopes." + +Trubus frowned at her as he caught Burke's twinkling glance. + +"Doubtless they are insults to our cause, not replies to our +importunities, Miss Emerson!" he hurriedly replied. + +He looked sharply at Burke. + +"Well, sir, having finished what I consider my midday devotions, I am +very busy. What can I do for you?" + +"You can listen to what I have to say," retorted Burke; resenting the +condescending tone. "I come here to see you about some actual +conditions. I have read some of your literature, and if you are as +anxious to do some active good as you write you are, I can give you +enough to keep your entire organization busy." + +It was a very different personality which shone forth from those sharp +black eyes now, than the smug, quasi-religious man who had spoken +before. + +"I don't like your manner, young man. Tell me what you have to say, +and do it quickly." + +"Well, yours is the Purity League. I happen to have run across a gang +of procurers who drug girls, and make their livelihood off the shame of +the girls they get into their clutches. I can give you the names of +these men, their haunts, and you can apply the funds and influence of +your society in running them to earth, with my assistance and that of a +number of other policemen I know." + +Trubus rose from his chair. + +"I have heard this story many times before, my young friend. It does +not interest me." + +"What!" exclaimed Burke, "you advertise and obtain money from the +public to fight for purity and when a man comes to you with facts and +with the gameness to help you fight, you say you are not interested." + +Trubus waved his hand toward the door by which Burke had entered. + +"I have to make an address to our Board of Directors this afternoon," +he said, "and I don't care to associate my activities nor those of the +cause for which I stand with the police department. You had better +carry your information to your superiors." + +"But, I tell you I have the leads which will land a gang of organized +procurers, if you will give me any of your help. The police are trying +to do the best they can, but they have to fight district politics, +saloon men, and every sort of pull against justice. Your society isn't +afraid of losing its job, and it can't be fired by political influence. +Why don't you spend some of your money for the cause that's alive +instead of on furniture and stenographers and diamond rings!" + +The cat was out of the bag. + +Trubus brought his fist down with a bang which spilled grape juice on +his neat piles of papers. + +"Don't you dictate to me. You police are a lot of grafters, in league +with the gangsters and the politicians. My society cares for the +unfortunate and seeks to work its reforms by mentally and spiritually +uplifting the poor. We have the support of the clergy and those people +who know that the public and the poor must be brought to a spiritual +understanding. Pah! Don't come around to me with your story of +'organized traffic.' That's one of the stories originated by the +police to excuse their inefficiency!" + +Burke's eyes flamed as he stood his ground. + +"Let me tell you, Mr. Trubus, that before you and your clergy can do +any good with people's souls you've got to take more care of their +bodies. You've got to clean out some of the rotten tenement houses +which some of your big churches own. I've seen them--breeding places +for tuberculosis and drunkenness, and crime of the vilest sort. You've +got to give work to the thousands of starving men and women, who are +driven to crime, instead of spending millions on cathedrals and altars +and statues and stained glass windows, for people who come to church in +their automobiles. A lot of your churches are closed up when the +neighborhood changes and only poor people attend. They sell the +property to a saloonkeeper, or turn it into a moving-picture house and +burn people to death in the rotten old fire-trap. And if you don't +raise your hand, when I come to you fair and square, with an honest +story--if you dare to order me out of here, because you've got to gab a +lot of your charity drivel to a board of directors, instead of taking +the interest any real man would take in something that was real and +vital and eating into the very heart of New York life, I'm going to +show you up, and put you out of the charity business----so help me God!" + +Burke's right arm shot into the air, with the vow, and his fist +clenched until the knuckles stood out ridged against the bloodless +pallor of his tense skin. + +Trubus looked straight into Burke's eyes, and his own gaze dropped +before the white flame which was burning in them. + +Burke turned without a word and walked from the office. + +After he had gone Trubus rang the buzzer for his telephone girl. + +"Miss Emerson, did that policeman leave his name and station?" + +"No, sir; but I know his number. He's mighty fresh." + +"Well, I must find out who he is. He is a dangerous man." + +Trubus turned toward his mail, and with a slight tremor in his hand +which the shrewd girl noticed began to open the letters. + +Check after check fluttered to the surface of the desk, and the great +philanthropist regained his composure by degrees. When he had +collected the postage offertory, carefully indorsed them all, and +assembled the funds sent in for his great work, he slipped them into a +generously roomy wallet, and placed the latter in the pocket of his +frock coat. + +He opened a drawer in his desk, and drew forth a tan leather bank book. +Taking his silk hat from the bronze hook by the door, he closed the +desk, after slamming the Bible shut with a sacrilegious impatience, +quite out of keeping with his manner of a half hour earlier. + +"I am going to the bank, Miss Emerson. I will return in half an hour +to lead in the prayer at the opening of the directors' meeting. Kindly +inform the gentlemen when they arrive." + +He slammed the door as he left the offices. + +The telephone operator abstractedly chewed her gum as she watched his +departure. + +"I wonder now. I ain't seen his nibs so flustered since I been on this +job," she mused. "That cop must 'ave got his goat. I wonder!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE BUSY MART OF TRADE + +The hypocrisy of William Trubus and the silly fatuity of his reform +work rankled in Burke's bosom as he betook himself uptown to enjoy his +brief vacation for an afternoon with his old friend, the inventor. +Later he was to share supper when the girls came home from their work. + +John Barton was busy with his new machine, and had much to talk about. +At last, when his own enthusiasm had partially spent itself, he noticed +Burke's depression. + +"What is the trouble, my boy? You are very nervous. Has anything gone +wrong?" + +Bobbie hesitated. He wished to avoid any mention of the case in which +Lorna had so unfortunately figured. But, at last, he unfolded the +story of his interview with the alleged philanthropist, describing the +situation of the gangsters and their work in general terms. + +Barton shook his head. + +"They're nearly all alike, these reformers in mahogany chairs, Burke. +I've been too busy with machinery and workmen, whom I always tried to +help along, to take much stock in the reform game. But there's no +denying that we do need all the reforming that every good man in the +world can give us. Only, there are many ways to go about it. Even I, +without much education, and buried for years in my own particular kind +of rut, can see that." + +"The best kind of reform will be with the night stick and the bars of +Sing Sing, Mr. Barton," answered Burke. "Some day the police will work +like army men, with an army man at the head of them. It won't be +politics at all then, but they'll have the backing of a man who is on +the firing line, instead of sipping tea in a swell hotel, or swapping +yarns and other things in a political club. That day is not far +distant, either, to judge from the way people are waking things up. +But we need a little different kind of preaching and reforming now." + +Barton leaned back in his wheel chair and spoke reminiscently. + +"Last spring I spent Sunday with a well-to-do friend of mine in a +beautiful little town up in Connecticut. We went to church. It was an +old colonial edifice, quaint, clean, and outside on the green before it +were forty or fifty automobiles, for, as my friend told me with pride, +it was the richest congregation in that part of New England. + +"Inside of the church was the perfume of beautiful spring flowers which +decorated the altar and were placed in vases along the aisles. In the +congregation were happy, well-fed, healthy business men who enlivened +existence with golf, motoring, riding, good books, good music, good +plays and good dinners. Their wives were charmingly gowned. Their +children were rosy-cheeked, happy and normal. + +"The minister, a sweet, genial old chap, recited his text after the +singing of two or three beautiful hymns. It was that quotation from +the Bible: 'Look at the lilies of the field. They toil not, neither do +they spin.' In full, melodious tones he addressed his congregation, +confident in his own faith of a delightful hereafter, and still better +blessed with the knowledge that his monthly check was not subject to +the rise and fall of the stock market! + +"In his sermon he spoke of the beauties of life, the freshness of +spring, its message of eternal happiness for those who had earned the +golden reward of the Hereafter. He preached optimism, the subject of +the unceasing care and love of the Father above; he told of the +spiritual joy which comes only with a profound faith in the Almighty, +who observes even of the fall of the sparrow. + +"Through the window came the soft breezes of the spring morning, the +perfume of buds on the trees and the twitter of birds. It was a sweet +relief to me after having left the dreary streets of the city and our +busy machine shop behind, to see the happiness, content, decency and +right living shining in the faces of the people about me. The charm of +the spring was in the message of the preacher, although it was in his +case more like the golden light of a sunset, for he was a good old man, +who had followed his own teachings, and it was evident that he was +beloved by every one in his congregation. A man couldn't help loving +that old parson--he was so happy and honest! + +"When he completed his sermon of content, happiness and unfaltering +faith, a girl sang an old-time offertory. The services were closed +with the music of a well-trained choir. The congregation rose. The +worshippers finally went out of the church, chatting and happy with the +thought of a duty well done in their weekly worship, and, last but not +least, the certainty of a generous New England dinner at home. The +church services were ended. Later in the afternoon would be a short +song service of vespers and in the evening a simple and sincere meeting +of sweet-minded, clean-souled young men and women for prayer service. +It was all very pretty. + +"As I say, Burke, it was something that soothed me like beautiful music +after the rotten, miserable, wretched conditions I had seen in the +city. It does a fellow good once in a while to get away from the grip +of the tenements, the shades of the skyscrapers, the roar of the +factories, and the shuffling, tired footsteps of the crowds, the smell +of the sweat-shops. + +"But, do you know, it seemed to me that that minister missed something; +that he was _too contented_. There was a message that man _could_ have +given which I think might perhaps have disagreed with the digestions of +his congregation. Undoubtedly, it would have influenced the hand that +wrote the check the following month. + +"I wondered to myself why, at least, he could not have spoken to his +flock in words something like this, accompanied by a preliminary pound +on his pulpit to awaken his congregation from dreams of golf, roast +chicken and new gowns: + +"'You business men who sit here so happy and so contented with +honorable wives, with sturdy children in whose veins run the blood of a +dozen generations of decent living, do you realize that there are any +other conditions in life but yours? Do you know that Henry Brown, Joe +Smith and Richard Black, who work as clerks for you down in your New +York office, do not have this church, do not have these spring flowers +and the Sunday dinners you will have when you go back home? Does it +occur to you that these young men on their slender salaries may be +supporting more people back home than you are? Do you know that many +of them have no club to go to except the corner saloon or the pool +room? Do you know that the only exercise a lot of your poor clerks, +assistants and factory workers get is standing around on the street +corners, that the only drama and comedy they ever see is in a dirty, +stinking, germ-infected, dismal little movie theater in the slums; that +the only music they ever hear is in the back room of a Raines Law hotel +or from a worn-out hurdy-gurdy? + +"'Why don't you men take a little more interest in the young fellows +who work for you or in some of the old ones with dismal pasts and worse +futures? Why don't you well-dressed women take an interest in the +stenographers and shop girls, the garment-makers--_not_ to condescend +and offer them tracts and abstracts of the Scriptures--but to improve +the moral conditions under which they work, the sanitary conditions, +and to arrange decent places for them to amuse themselves after hours. + +"'Surely you can spare a little time from the Golf Clubs and University +Clubs and Literary Clubs and Bridge Clubs and Tango Parties. Let me +tell you that if you do not, during the next five or ten years, the +people of these classes will imbibe still more to the detriment of our +race, the anarchy and money lust which is being preached to them daily, +nightly and almost hourly by the socialists, the anarchists and the +atheists, who are all soured on life because they've never _had_ it! + +"'The tide of social unrest is sweeping across to us from the Old World +which will engulf our civilization unless it is stopped by the jetties +of social assistance and the breakwaters of increased moral education. +You can't do this with Sunday-school papers and texts! You can't stem +the movement in your clubs by denouncing the demagogues over highball +glasses and teacups. + +"'It is all right to have faith in the good. It is well to have hope +for the future. Charity is essential to right living and right +helping. But out of the five million people in New York City, four +million and a half have never seen any evidence of Divine assistance +such as our Good Book says is given to the sparrow. They are not +lilies of the field. They must toil or die. You people are to them +the lilies of the field! Your fine gowns, your happy lives, your +endless opportunities for amusement; your extravagances are to them as +the matador's flag to the bull in the Spanish ring. Unless you _do_ +take the interest, unless you _do_ fight to stem the movement of these +dwarfed and bitter leaders, unless you _do_ overcome their arguments +based on much solid-rock truth by definite personal work, by definite +constructive education, your civilization, my civilization and the +civilization of all the centuries will fall before socialism and +anarchy.' + +"But _that_ was not what he said. I have never heard the minister of a +rich congregation say that yet. Have you, Burke?" + +"No, the minister who talked like that would have to look for a new +pulpit, or get a job as a carpenter, like the Minister long ago, who +made the rich men angry. But I had no idea that you thought about such +things, Mr. Barton. You'd make a pretty good minister yourself." + +The old inventor laughed as he patted the young man on the back. + +"Burke, the trouble with most ministers, and poets, and painters, and +novelists, and law-makers, and other successful professional men who +are supposed to show us common, working people the right way to go is +that they don't get out and mix it up. They don't have to work for a +mean boss, they don't know what it is to go hungry and starved and +afraid to call your soul your own--scared by the salary envelope at the +end of the week. They don't get out and make their _souls_ sweat +_blood_. Otherwise, they'd reform the world so quickly that men like +Trubus wouldn't be able to make a living out of the charity game." + +Barton smiled jovially. + +"But here we go sermonizing. People don't want to listen to sermons +all the time." + +"Well, we're on a serious subject, and it means our bread and butter +and our happiness in life, when you get right down to it," said Bobbie. +"I don't like sermons myself. I'd rather live in the Garden of Eden, +where they didn't need any. Wouldn't you?" + +"Yes, but my wheel chair would find it rough riding without any +clearings," said Barton. "By the way, Bob, I've some news for you. My +lawyer is coming up here to-night, to talk over some patent matters, +and you can lay your family matters before him. He'll attend to that +and you may get justice done you. If you have some money back in +Illinois, you ought to have it." + +"He can get all he wants--if he gives me some," agreed Burke, "and I'll +back your patents." + +The old man started off again on his plans, and they argued and +explained to each other as happy as two boys with some new toys, until +the sisters came home. + +Lorna was distinctly cool toward Burke, but, under a stern look from +Mary, gave the outward semblance of good grace. The fact that he had +been present in her home at the time of her disastrous escapade, even +though she believed him ignorant of it, made the girl sensitive and +aloof. + +She left Mary alone with him at the earliest pretext, and Bobbie had +interesting things to say to her: things which were nobody's business +but theirs. + +Barton's lawyer came before Burke left to report for evening duty, and +he spent considerable effort to learn the story of the uncle and the +curious will. + +Now a digression in narrative is ofttimes a dangerous parting of ways. +But on this particular day Bobbie Burke had come to a parting of the +ways unwittingly. He had left the plodding life of routine excitement +of the ordinary policeman to embark upon a journey fraught with +multifold dangers. In addition to his enemies of the underworld, he +had made a new one in an entirely different sphere. + +To follow the line of digression, had the reader gone into the same +building on Fifth Avenue which Burke had entered that afternoon, +perhaps an hour later, and had he stopped on the third floor, entered a +door marked "Mercantile Agency," he would have discovered a very busy +little market-place. The first room of the suite of offices thus +indicated was quite small. A weazened man, with thin shiny fingers, an +unnaturally pallid face, and stooped shoulders, sat at a small flat-top +desk, inside an iron grating of the kind frequently seen in cashiers' +offices. + +He watched the hall door with beady eyes, and whenever it opened to +admit a newcomer he subjected that person to keen scrutiny; then he +pushed a small button which automatically clicked a spring in the lock +of the grated door. + +This done, it was possible for the approved visitor to push past into a +larger room shut off from the first office by a heavy door which +invariably slammed, because it was pulled shut by a strong wire spring +and was intended to slam. + +The larger room opened out on a rear court, and, upon passing one of +the large dirty windows, a fire escape could be descried. Around this +room were a number of benches. Close scrutiny would have disclosed the +fact that they were old-fashioned church pews, dismantled from some +disused sanctuary. Two large tables were ranged in the center of the +room. + +The floor was extremely dirty. The few chairs were very badly worn, +and the only decorations on the walls were pasted clippings of prize +fighters and burlesque queens, cut from the pages of _The Police +Gazette_ and the sporting pages of some newspapers. + +Into this room, all through the afternoon, streamed a curious medley of +people. Tall men, small men, rough men, dapper men, and loudly dressed +women, who for the most part seemed inclined to corpulence. They +talked sometimes; many seemed well acquainted. Others appeared to be +strangers, and they glanced about them uneasily, apparently suspicious +of their fellows. + +This seemed a curious waiting room for a Fifth Avenue "Mercantile +Agency." + +But inside the room to the left, marked "private," was the explanation +of the mystery; at last there was a partial explanation of the curious +throng. + +As the occupants chatted, or kept frigid and uneasy silence, in the +outer room a fat man, smooth of face and monkish in appearance, +occasionally appeared at the private portal and admitted one person at +a time. + +After disappearing through this door, his visitors were not seen again, +for they left by another door, which automatically closed and locked +itself as they went directly into the hall corridor where the elevators +ran. + +In the private office of the "Mercantile Agency" the fat man would sit +at his desk and listen attentively to the words of his visitor. + +"Speak up, Joe. You know I'm hard of hearing--don't whisper to me," +was the tenor of a remark which he seemed to direct to every visitor. +Yet strangely enough he frequently stopped to listen to voices in the +outer room, which he appeared to recognize without difficulty. + +On this particular afternoon a dapper-dressed youth was an early caller. + +"Well, Tom, what luck on the steamer? Now, don't swallow your voice. +Remember, I got kicked in the ear by a horse before I quit bookmaking, +and I have to humor my hearing." + +"Oh, it was easy. That Swede, Jensen, came over, you know, and he had +picked out a couple of peachy Swede girls who were going to meet their +cousin at the Battery. Minnie and I went on board ship as soon as she +docked, to meet our relatives, and we had a good look at 'em while they +were lined up with the other steerage passengers. They were fine, and +we got Jensen to take 'em up to the Bronx. They're up at Molloy's +house overnight. It's better to keep 'em there, and give 'em some +food. You know, the emigrant society is apt to be on the lookout +to-day. The cousin was there when the ferry came in from the Island, +all right, but we spotted him before the boat got in, and I had Mickey +Brown pick a fight with him, just in time to get him pinched. He was +four blocks away when the boat landed, and Jensen, who had made friends +with the girls coming over, told them he would take 'em to his aunt's +house until they heard from their cousin." + +"What do they look like? We've got to have particulars, you know." + +"Well, one girl is tall, and the other rather short. They both have +yellow hair and cheeks like apples. One's name is Lena and the other +Marda--the rest of their names was too much for me. They're both about +eighteen years old, and well dressed, for Swedes." + +The fat man was busy writing down certain data on a pad arranged in a +curious metal box, which looked something like those on which grocers' +clerks make out the order lists for customers. + +"Say, Henry, what do you use that thing for? Why don't you use a +fountain pen and a book?" asked the dapper one. + +"That's my affair," snapped the fat man. "I want this for records, and +I know how to do it. Go on. What did Mrs. Molloy pay you?" + +"Well, you know she's a tight one. I had to argue with her, and I have +a lot of expense on this, anyway." + +"Go on--don't begin to beef about it. I know all about the expenses. +We paid the preliminaries. Now, out with the money from Molloy. It +was to be two hundred dollars, and you know it. Two hundred apiece is +the exact figure." + +The visitor stammered, and finally pulled out a roll of yellow-backed +bills "Well, I haven't gotten mine yet," he whined. + +"Yours is just fifty on this, for you've had a steamer assignment every +day this week. You can give your friend Minnie a ten-spot. Now, +report here to-morrow at ten, for I've a new line for you. Good day. +Shut the door." + +The fat man was accustomed to being obeyed. The other departed with a +surly manner, as though he had received the worst of a bargain. The +manager jotted down the figures on the revolving strip of paper, for +such it was, while the pencil he used was connected by two little metal +arms to the side of the mechanism. Some little wheels inside the +register clicked, as he turned the paper lever over for a clean record. +He put the money into his wallet. + +He went to the door to admit another. + +"Ah, Levy, what do you have to say?" + +"Ah, Meester Clemm, eet's a bad bizness! Nattings at all to-day. I've +been through five shoit-vaist factories, and not a girl could I get. +Too much of dis union bizness. I told dem I vas a valking delegate, +but I don't t'ink I look like a delegate. Vot's to be done?" + +The manager looked at him sternly. + +"Well, unless you get a wiggle on, you'll be back with a pushcart, +where you belong, over on East Broadway, Levy. The factories are full +of girls, and they don't make four dollars a week. Lots of pretty +ones, and you know where we can place them. One hundred dollars +apiece, if a girl is right, and that means twenty-five for you. You've +been drawing money from me for three weeks without bringing in a cent. +Now you get on the job. Try Waverley Place and come in here to-morrow. +You're a good talker in Yiddish, and you ought to be able to get some +action. Hustle out now. I can't waste time." + +The manager jotted down another memorandum, and again his machine +clicked, as he turned the lever. + +A portly woman, adorned in willow plumes, sealskin cloak and wearing +large rhinestones in her rings and necklace, now entered at the +manager's signal. + +"Well, Madame Blanche, what have you to report?" + +"I swear I ain't had no luck, Mr. Clemm. Some one's put the gipsy +curse on me. Twice this afternoon in the park I've seen two pretty +girls, and each time I got chased by a cop. I got warned. I think +they're gettin' wise up there around Forty-second Street and Sixth +Avenue." + +"Well, how about that order we had from New Orleans? That hasn't been +paid yet. You know it was placed through you. You got your commish +out of it, and this establishment always wants cash. No money orders, +either. Spot cash. We don't monkey with the United States mail. +There's too many city bulls looking around for us now to get Uncle +Sam's men on the job." + +The portly person under the willow plume, with a tearful face, began to +wipe her eyes with a lace kerchief from which, emanated the odor of +Jockey Club. + +"Oh, Mr. Clemm, you are certainly the hardest man we ever had to do +business with. I just can't pay now for that, with my high rents, and +gettin' shook down in the precinct and all." + +"Can it, Madame Blanche. I'm a business man. They're not doing any +shaking down just now in your precinct. I know all about the police +situation up there, for they've got a straight inspector. Now, I want +that four hundred right now. We sent you just what was ordered and if +I don't get the money right now you get blacklisted. Shell out!" + +The manager's tone was hard as nails. + +"Oh, Mr. Clemm ... well, excuse me. I must step behind your desk to +get it, but you ain't treatin' me right, just the same, to force it +this way." + +Madame Blanche, with becoming modesty, stepped out of view in order to +draw forth from their silken resting place four new one hundred dollar +bills. She laid them gingerly and regretfully on the desk, where they +were quickly snatched up by the business-like Clemm. + +"Maybe I'll have a little order for next week, if you can give better +terms, Mr. Clemm," began the lady, but the manager waved her aside. + +"Nix, Madame. Get out. I'm busy. You know the terms, and I advise +you not to try any more of this hold-out game. You're a week late now, +and the next time you try it you'll be sorry. Hurry. I've got a lot +of people to see." + +She left, wiping her eyes. + +The next man to enter was somewhat mutilated. His eye was blackened +and the skin across his cheek was torn and just healing from a fresh +cut. + +"Well, well, well! What have you been up to, Barlow? A prize fight?" +snapped Clemm. + +"Aw, guv'nor, quit yer kiddin'. Did ye ever hear of me bein' in a +fight? Nix. I tried to work dis needle gag over in Brooklyn an' I got +run outen de t'eayter on me neck. Dere ain't no luck. I'd better go +back to der dip ag'in." + +"You stick to orders and stay around those cheap department stores, as +you've been told to do, and you'll have no black eyes. Last month you +brought in eleven hundred dollars for me, and you got three hundred of +it yourself. What's the matter with you? You look like a panhandler? +Don't you save your money? You've got to keep decently dressed." + +"Aw, guv'nor, I guess it's easy come, easy go. Ain't dere nottin' +special ye kin send me on?" + +"Report here to-morrow at eleven. We're planning something pretty +good. Here's ten dollars. Go rig yourself up a little better and get +that eye painted out. Hustle up. I'm busy." + +The dilapidated one took the bill and rolled his good eye in gratitude. + +"Sure, guv'nor, you're white wid me. I kin always git treated right +here." + +"Don't thank me, it's business. Get out and look like a man when I see +you next. I don't want any bums working for me." + +The fat man jotted down a memorandum of his outlay on the little +machine. Then he admitted the next caller. + +"Ah, it's you, Jimmie. Well, what have you to say? You've been +working pretty well, so Shepard tells me. What about his row the other +night? I thought that girl was sure." + +"Well, Mr. Clemm, ye see, we had it fixed all right, an' some foxy gink +blows in wid a taxi an' lifts de dame right from outen Shepard's mit! +De slickest getaway I ever seen. I don't know wot 'is game is, but he +sure made some getaway, an' we never even got a smell at 'im." + +"Who was with you on the deal? Who did the come-on?" + +"Oh, pretty Baxter. You knows, w'en dat boy hands 'em de goo-goo an' +wiggles a few Tangoes he's dere wid both feet! But dis girl was back +on de job ag'in in her candy store next day. But Baxter'll git 'er +yit. Shepard's pullin' dis t'eayter manager bull, so he'll git de game +yet." + +"Did her folks get wise?" + +"Naw, not as we kin tell. Shepard he seen her once after she left de +store. De trouble is 'er sister woiks in de same place. We got ter +git dat girl fired, and den it'll be easy goin'. De goil gits home +widout de sister findin' out about it, she tells Shepard. I don't +quite pipe de dope on dis butt-in guy. But he sure spoiled Shepard's +beauty fer a week. Dere's only one t'ing I kin suspect." + +"All right, shoot it. You know I'm busy. This girl's worth the fight, +for I know who wants one just about her looks and age. What is it? +We'll work it if money will do it, for there's a lot of money in this +or I wouldn't have all you fellows on the job. I saw a picture she +gave Baxter. She's a pretty little chicken, isn't she?" + +"Shoor! Some squab. Well, Mr. Clemm, dere's a rookie cop down in de +precinct w'ere I got a couple workin', named Burke. Bobbie Burke, damn +'im! He gave me de worst beatin' up I ever got from any cop, an' I'm +on bail now for General Sessions fer assaultin' 'im." + +"What's he got to do with it?" + +"Well, dis guy was laid up in de hospital by one of me pals who put 'im +out on first wid a brick. He got stuck on a gal whose old man was in +dat hospital, and dat gal is de sister of dis yere Lorna Barton. Does +ye git me?" + +Clemm's eyes sparkled. + +"What does he look like? Brown hair, tall, very square shoulders?" he +asked. + +"Exact! He's a fresh guy wid his talk, too--one of dem ejjicated cops. +Dey tells me he was a collige boy, or in de army or somethin'." + +"Could he have known about Lorna Barton going out with Baxter that +night Shepard was beaten?" + +"My Gaud! Yes, cause Baxter he tells me Burke was dere at de house." +Clemm nodded his head. + +"Then you can take a hundred to one shot tip from me, Jimmie, that this +Burke had something to do with Shepard. He may have put one of his +friends on the job. Those cops are not such dummies as we think they +are sometimes. That fellow's a dangerous man." + +Clemm pondered for a moment. Jimmie was surprised, for the manager of +the "Mercantile Agency" was noted for his rapid-fire methods. The Monk +knew that something of great importance must be afoot to cause this +delay. + +The manager tapped the desk with his fingers, as he moved his lips, in +a silent little conversation with himself. At last he banged the desk +with vehemence. + +"Here, Jimmie. I'm going to entrust you with an important job." + +The Monk brightened and smiled hopefully. + +"How much money would it take to put Officer Bobbie Burke, if that's +his name, where the cats can't keep him awake at night?" + +Jimmie looked shiftily at the manager. + +"You mean..." + +He drew his hand significantly across his throat, raising his heavy +eyebrows in a peculiar monkey grimace which had won for him his +soubriquet. + +"Yes, to quiet his nerves. It's a shame to let these ambitious young +policemen worry too much about their work." + +"I kin git it done fer twenty-five dollars." + +"Well, here's a hundred, for I'd like to have it attended to neatly, +quietly and permanently. You understand me?" + +"Say, I'm ashamed ter take money fer dis!" laughed Jimmie the Monk. + +"Don't worry about that, my boy. Make a good job of it. It's just +business. I'm buying the service and you're selling it. Now get out, +for I've got a lot more marketing to do." + +Jimmie got. + +It was indeed a busy little market place, with many commodities for +barter and trade. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +WHEN THE TRAIN COMES IN + +Burke was sent up to Grand Central Station the following morning by +Captain Sawyer to assist one of the plain-clothes men in the +apprehension of two well-known gangsters who had been reported by +telegraph as being on their way to New York. + +"We want them down in this precinct, Burke, and you have seen these +fellows, so I want to have you keep a sharp lookout in the crowd when +the train comes in. In case of a scuffle in a crowd, it's not bad to +have a bluecoat ready, because the crowd is likely to take sides. +Anyway, there's apt to be some of this gas-house gang up there to +welcome them home. And your club will do more good than a revolver in +a railroad station. You help out if Callahan gives you the sign, +otherwise just monkey around. It won't take but a few minutes, anyway." + +Burke went up to the station with the detective. + +They watched patiently when the Chicago train came in, but there was no +sign of the desired visitors. The detective entered the gate, when all +the passengers had left, and searched the train. + +"They must have gotten off at One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street, from +what the conductor could tell me. If they did, then they'll be nabbed +up there, for Sawyer is a wise one, and had that planned," said +Callahan. "I'll just loiter around the station a while to see any +familiar faces. You can go back to your regular post, Burke." + +Bobbie bade him good-bye, and started out one of the big entrances. As +he did so he noticed a timid country girl, dressed ridiculously behind +the fashions, and wearing an old-fashioned bonnet. She carried a +rattan suitcase and two bandboxes. + +"I wonder if she's lost," thought Burke. "I'll ask her. She looks +scared enough." + +He approached the young woman, but before he reached her a well-dressed +young man accosted her. They exchanged a few words, and the fellow +evidently gave her a direction, looking at a paper which she clutched +in her nervous hand. The man walked quickly out of the building toward +the street. Unseen by Burke, he whispered something to another nattily +attired loiterer, an elderly man, who started toward the "car stop." + +As Burke rounded the big pillar of the station entrance the man again +addressed the country girl. + +"There's your car, sis," he said, with a smile. Bobbie looked at him +sharply. + +There was something evil lurking in that smooth face, and the fellow +stared impudently, with the haunting flicker of a scornful smile in his +eyes, as he met the gaze of the policeman. + +The country girl hurried toward the north-bound Madison Avenue car, +which she boarded, with several other passengers. Among them was the +gray-haired man who had received the mysterious message. + +Burke watched the car disappear, and then turned to look at the smiling +young man, who lit a cigarette, flicking the match insolently near the +policeman's face. + +"Move on, you," said Burke, and the young man shrugged his shoulders, +leisurely returning to the waiting room of the station. + +Burke was puzzled. + +"I wonder what that game was? Maybe I stopped him in time. He looks +like a cadet, I'll be bound. Well, I haven't time to stand around here +and get a reprimand for starting on a wild-goose chase." + +So Burke returned to the station house and started out on his rounds. + +Had he taken the same car as the country girl, however, he would have +understood the curious manoeuvre of the young man with the smile. + +When the girl had ridden almost to the end of the line she left the car +at a certain street. The elderly gentleman with the neat clothes and +the fatherly gray hair did so at the same time. She walked uncertainly +down one street, while he followed, without appearing to do so, on the +opposite side. He saw her looking at the slip of paper, while she +struggled with her bandboxes. He casually crossed over to the same +side of the thoroughfare. + +"Can I direct you, young lady?" he politely asked. + +He was such a kind-looking old gentleman that the girl's confidence was +easily won. + +"Yes, sir. I'm looking for the Young Women's Christian Association. I +thought it was down town, but a gentleman in the depot said it was on +that street where I got off. I don't see it at all. They're all +private houses, around here. You know, I've never been in New York +City before, and I'm kinder green." + +"Well, well, I wouldn't have known it," said her benefactor. "The +Y.W.C.A. is down this street, just in the next block. You'll see the +sign on the door, in big white letters. I've often passed it on my way +to church." + +"Oh, thank you, sir," and the country girl started on her quest once +more, with a firmer grip on the suitcase and the bandboxes. + +Sure enough, on the next block was a brownstone building--more or less +dilapidated in appearance, it is true--just as he had prophesied. + +There were the big white letters painted on a sign by the door. The +girl went up the steps, rang the bell, and was admitted by a tousled, +smirking negress. + +"Is this here the Y.W.C.A.?" she asked nervously. + +"Yassim!" replied the darkie. "Come right in, ma'am, and rest yoh +bundles." + +The girl stepped inside the door, which closed with a click that almost +startled her. She backed to the door and put her hand on the knob. It +did not turn! + +"Are you _sure_ this is the Y.W.C.A.?" she insisted. "I thought it was +a great big building." + +"Oh, yas, lady; dis is it. Yoh all don't know how nice dis buildin' is +ontel you go through it. Gimme yoh things." + +The negress snatched the suitcase from the girl's hand and whisked one +of the bandboxes from the other. + +"Here, you let go of that grip. I got all my clothes in there, and I +don't think I'm in the right place." + +As she spoke a plump lady, wearing rhinestone rings and a necklace of +the same precious tokens, whom the reader might have recognized as no +other than the tearful Madame Blanche, stepped from the parlor. + +"Oh, my dear little girl. I'm so glad you came. We were expecting +you. I am the president of the Y.W.C.A., you know. Just go right +upstairs with Sallie, she'll show you to your room." + +"Expecting me? How could you be? I didn't send word I was coming. I +just got the address from our minister, and I lost part of it." + +"That's all right, dearie. Just follow Sallie; you see she is taking +your clothes up to your room. I'll be right up there, and see that you +are all comfortable." + +The bewildered girl followed the only instinct which asserted +itself--that was to follow all her earthly belongings and get +possession of them again. She walked into the trap and sprang up the +stairs, two steps at a time, to overtake the negress. + +Madame Blanche watched her lithe grace and strength as she sped upwards +with the approving eye of a connoisseur. + +"Fine! She's a beauty--healthy as they make 'em, and her cheeks are +redder than mine, and mine cost money--by the box. Oh, here comes Pop." + +She turned as the door was opened from the outside. It was a door +which required the key from the inside, on certain occasions, and it +was still arranged for the easy ingress of a visitor. + +"Well, Blanche, what do you think?" inquired the benevolent old +gentleman who had been such an opportune guide to the girl from +up-State. + +"Pop, she's a dandy. Percy can certainly pick 'em on the fly, can't +he?" + +"Well, don't I deserve a little credit?" asked the old gentleman, his +vanity touched. + +"Yes, you're our best little Seeing-Noo-Yorker. But say, Pop, Percy +just telephoned me in time. We had to paint out that old sign, "help +wanted," and put on 'Y.W.C.A.' Sallie is a great sign painter. We'll +have trouble with this girl. She's a husky. But won't Clemm roll his +eyes when he sees her?" + +"Naw, he don't regard any of 'em more than a butcher does a new piece +of beef. He's a regular business man, that's all. No pride in his +art, nor nothing like that," sighed Pop. "But that girl made a hit +with me, old as I am. She's a peach." + +"Well, she won't look so rosy when Shepard shows her that she's got to +mind. He's a rough one, he is. It gets on my nerves sometimes. They +yell so, and he's got this whip stuff down too strong. You know I +think he's act'ally crazy about beatin' them girls, and makin' them +agree to go wherever we send 'em. He takes too much fun out of it, and +when he welts 'em up it lowers the value. He'll be up this afternoon. +We must have him ease it up a bit." + +"Oh, well, he's young, ye know," said Pop. "Boys will be boys, and +some of 'em's rough once in a while. I was a boy myself once." And he +pulled his white mustache vigorously as he smiled at himself in the +large hall mirror. + +"You'd better be off down to the station again, Pop," said Madame +Blanche. "They're going to send over two Swedish girls from Molloy's +in the Bronx this afternoon, and then put 'em on through to St. Paul. +I've got a friend out there who wants 'em to visit her. Then Baxter +telephoned me that he had a little surprise for me, later to-day. He's +been quiet lately, and it's about time, or he'll have to get a job in +the chorus again to pay his manicure bills." + +Pop took his departure, and, as Sallie came down the stairs with a +smile of duty done, Madame Blanche could hear muffled screams from +above. + +"Where is she, Sallie?" + +"She's in de receibin' room, Madame. Jes' let 'er yowl. It'll do her +good. I done' tol' er to save her breaf, but she is extravagant. Wait +ontil Marse Shepard swings dat whip. She'll have sompen to sing about!" + +And Sallie went about her duties--to put out the empty beer bottles for +the brewery man and to give the prize Pomeranian poodle his morning +bath. + +Madame Blanche retired to her cosy parlor, where, beneath the staring +eyes of her late husband's crayon portrait, and amused by the squawking +of her parrot, she could forget the cares of her profession in the +latest popular problem novel. + +On the floor above a miserable, weeping country lassie was beating her +hands against the thick door of the windowless dark room until they +were bruised and bleeding. + +She sank to her knees, praying for help, as she had been taught to do +in her simple life back in the country town. + +But her prayers seemed to avail her naught, and she finally sank, +swooning, with her head against the cruel barrier. Back in the +railroad station, Percy and his kind-faced assistant, Pop, were +prospecting for another recruit. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE POISONED NEEDLE + +That afternoon Burke improved his time, during a two-hour respite, to +hunt for a birthday present for Mary. + +Manlike, he was shy of shops, so he sought one of the big department +stores on Sixth Avenue, where he instinctively felt that everything +under the sun could be bought. + +As Bobbie paused before one of the big display windows on the sidewalk +he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure. It was that instinct which +one only half realizes in a brief instant, yet which leaves a strong +reaction of memory. + +"Who was that?" he thought, and then remembered: Baxter. + +Burke followed the figure which had passed him so quickly, and found +the same dapper young man deeply engrossed in the window display of +women's walking suits. + +"What can he find so interesting in that window?" mused Burke. "I'll +just watch his tactics. I don't believe that fellow is ever any place +for any good!" + +He stood far out on the sidewalk, close to the curb. The passing +throng swept in two eddying, opposite currents between him and Baxter, +whose attention seemed strictly upon the window. + +"Well, there's his refined companion," was Burke's next impression, as +he espied the effeminate figure of Craig, strolling along the sidewalk +close to the same window. + +"Can they be pickpockets? I would guess that was too risky for them to +take a chance on." + +Neither youth spoke to the other, although they walked very close to +each other. As Burke scrutinized their actions he saw a young girl, +tastefully dressed in a black velvet suit, with a black hat, turn about +excitedly. She looked about her, as though in alarm, and her face was +distorted with pain. Baxter gave her a shifty look and followed her. +Craig had been close at her side. + +Burke drew nearer to the girl. She seemed to falter, as she walked, +and it was apparently with great effort that she neared the door of the +big department store. Baxter was watching her stealthily now. + +"Oh!" she exclaimed desperately and keeled backward. Baxter's +calculations were close, for he caught her in his arms. + +"Quick! Quick!" he cried to the big uniformed carriage attendant at +the door. "Get me a taxicab. My sister has fainted." + +The man whistled for a machine, as Burke watched them. The officer was +calculating his own chances on what baseball players call a "double +play." Craig was close behind Baxter, in the curious crowd. Burke +guessed that it would take at least a minute or two for Baxter to get +the girl into a machine. So he rushed for Craig and surprised that +young gentleman with a vicious grasp of the throat. + +"Help! Police!" cried Craig, as some women screamed. His wish was +doubly answered, for Burke's police whistle was in his mouth and he +blew it shrilly. A traffic squad man rushed across from the middle of +the street. + +"Hurry, I want to get my sister away!" ordered Baxter excitedly to the +door man. "You big boob, what's the matter with you?" + +The crowd of people about him shut off the view of Burke's activities +fifteen feet away. Baxter was nervous and was doing his best to make a +quick exit with his victim. + +"What's this?" gruffly exclaimed the big traffic policeman, as he +caught Craig's arm. + +"The needle!" grunted Burke. "Here, I've got it from his pocket." + +He drew forth a small hypodermic needle syringe from Craig's coat +pocket, and held it up. + +"It's a frame-up!" squealed Craig. + +"Take him quick. I want to save the girl!" exclaimed Burke, as he +rushed toward Baxter. + +That young man was just pushing the girl into the taxicab when a +middle-aged woman rushed out from the store entrance. + +"That's my daughter Helen! Helen, my child!" + +At this there was terrific confusion in the crowd, and Burke saw Baxter +give the girl a rough shove away from the taxicab door. He slipped a +bill into the chauffeur's willing hand and muttered an order. The car +sprang forward on the instant. + +"I'll get that fellow this time!" muttered Burke. "He hasn't seen me, +and I'll trail him." + +He turned about and espied a big gray racing car drawn up at the curb. +A young man weighted down under a heavy load of goggles, fur and other +racing appurtenances sat in the car. Its engines were humming merrily. + +"Say, you, follow that car for me," sung out Officer 4434, delighted at +his discovery. "The taxicab with the black body." + +The driver of the racer snorted contemptuously. + +"Do you know who _I_ am?" + +Burke wasted no time, but jumped into the seat, for it was as opportune +as though placed there by Providence. Perhaps Providence has more to +do with some coincidences than the worldly wise are prone to confess. + +"_I'm_ Officer 4434 of the Police Department, and you mind my orders." + +"Well, I'm Reggie Van Nostrand," answered the young man, "and I take +orders from no man." + +Burke knew this young millionaire by reputation. But he was nowise +daunted. He kept his eye on the distant taxicab, which had luckily +been halted at the second cross street by the delayed traffic. + +"I'm going to put this pretty car of yours in the scrap heap, and I'm +going to land you in jail, with all your money," calmly replied Burke, +drawing his revolver. "The man in that taxi is a white slaver who just +tried the poison needle on a girl, and you and I are going to capture +him." + +The undeniable sporting blood surged in the veins of Reggie Van +Nostrand, be it said to his credit. It was not the threat. + +"I'm with you, Officer!" He pressed a little lever with his foot and +the big racing machine sprang forward like a thing possessed by a demon +of speed. + +The traffic officer on the other street tried to stop the car, until he +saw the uniform of the policeman in the seat. + +Bob waved his hand, and the fixed post man held back several machines, +in order to give him the right of way. + +They were now within a block of the other car. + +"Say, haven't you another robe or coat that I can put on to cover my +uniform, for that fellow will suspect a chase, anyway?" + +"Yes, there at your feet," replied Van Nostrand shortly. "It's my +father's. He'll be wondering who stole me and the car. Let him +wonder." + +Burke pulled up the big fur coat and drew it around his shoulders as +the car rumbled forward. He found a pair of goggles in a pocket of the +coat. + +"I don't need a hat with these to mask me," he exclaimed. "Now, watch +out on your side of the car, and I'll do it on mine, for he's a sly +one, and will turn down a side street." + +They did well to keep a lookout, for suddenly the pursued taxi turned +sharply to the right. + +After it they went--not too close, but near enough to keep track of its +manoeuvres. + +"He's going up town now!" said Reggie Van Nostrand, when the car had +diverged from the congested district to an open avenue which ran north +and south. The machine turned and sped along merrily toward Harlem. + +"We're willing," said Burke. "I want to track him to his headquarters." + +Block after block they followed the taxicab. Sometimes they nosed +along, at Burke's suggestion, so far behind that it seemed as though a +quick turn to a side street would lose their quarry. But it was +evident that Baxter had a definite destination which he wished to reach +in a hurry. + +At last they saw the car stop, and then the youth ahead dismounted. + +He was paying the chauffeur as they whizzed past, apparently giving him +no heed. + +But before they had gone another block Burke deemed it safe to stop. + +He signaled Van Nostrand, who shut off the power of the miraculous car +almost as easily as he had started it. Burke nearly shot over the +windshield with the momentum. + +"Some car!" he grunted. "You make it behave better than a horse, and I +think it has more brains." + +Nothing in the world could have pleased the millionaire more than this. +He was an eager hunter himself by now. + +"Say, supposing I take off my auto coat and run down that street and +see where he goes to?" + +"Good idea. I'll wait for you in the machine, if you're not afraid of +the police department." + +"You bet I'm not. Here, I'll put on this felt hat under the seat. +They won't suspect me of being a detective, will they?" + +"Hardly," laughed Burke, as the young society man emerged from his +chrysalis of furs and goggles, immaculately dressed in a frock coat. +He drew out an English soft hat and even a cane. "You are ready for +war or peace, aren't you?" + +Van Nostrand hurried down the street and turned the corner, changing +his pace to one of an easy and debonair grace befitting the possessor +of several racing stables of horses and machines. + +He saw his man a few hundred yards down the street. Van Nostrand +watched him sharply, and saw him hesitate, look about, and then turn to +the left. He ascended the steps of a dwelling. + +By the time Van Nostrand had reached the house, to pass it with the +barest sidelong glance, the pursued had entered and closed the door. +The millionaire saw, to his surprise, a white sign over the door, +"Swedish Employment Bureau." The words were duplicated in Swedish. + +"That's a bally queer sign!" muttered Reggie. "And a still queerer +place for a crook to go. I'll double around the block." + +As he turned the corner he saw an old-fashioned cab stop in front of +the house. Two men assisted a woman to alight, unsteadily, and helped +her up the steps. + +"Well, she must be starving to death, and in need of employment," +commented the rich young man. "I think the policeman has brought me to +a queer hole. I'll go tell him about it." + +The fashionable set who dwell on the east side of Central Park would +have spilled their tea and cocktails about this time had they seen the +elegant Reggie Van Nostrand breaking all speed records as he dashed +down the next street, with his cane in one hand and his hat in the +other. He reached the car, breathless, but his tango athletics had +stood him in good stead. + +"What's up?" asked Burke, jumping from the seat. + +"Why, that's a Swedish employment agency, and I saw two men lead a +woman up the steps from a cab just now. What shall we do?" + +"You run your machine to the nearest drug store and find out where the +nearest police station is. Then get a few cops in your machine, and +come to that house, for you'll find me there," ordered Burke. "How far +down the block?" + +"Nearly to the next corner," answered Reggie, who leaped into his +racing seat and started away like the wind. + +Burke hurried down, following the path of the other, until he came to +the house. He looked at the sign, and then glanced about him. He saw +an automobile approaching, and intuitively stepped around the steps of +the house next door, into the basement entry. + +He had hardly concealed himself when the machine stopped in front of +the other dwelling. + +A big Swede, still carrying his emigrant bundle, descended from the +machine, and called out cheerily in his native language to the +occupants within the vehicle. Burke, peeping cautiously, saw two buxom +Swedish lassies, still in their national costumes, step down to the +street. The machine turned and passed on down the street. + +Burke saw the man point out the sign of the employment agency, and the +girls chattered gaily, cheered up with hopes of work, as he led them up +the steps. + +The door closed behind them. + +Burke quietly walked around the front of the house and up the steps +after them. He had made no noise as he ascended, and as he stood by +the wall of the vestibule he fancied he detected a bitter cry, muffled +to an extent by the heavy walls. + +He examined the sign, and saw that it was suspended by a small wire +loop from a nail in the door jamb. + +Bobbie reached upward, took the sign off its hook, and turned it about. + +"Well, just as I thought!" he exclaimed. + +On the reverse side were the tell-tale letters, "Y.W.C.A." + +"They are ready for all kinds of customers. I wonder how they'll like +me!" was the humorous thought which flitted through his mind as he +quietly turned the knob. It opened readily. + +Bobbie stood inside the hallway, face to face with the redoubtable Pop! + +Pop's eyes protruded as they beheld this horrid vision of a bluecoat. +A cynical smile played about Burke's pursed lips as he held the sign up +toward the old reprobate. + +"Can I get a job here? Is there any work for me to do in this +employment agency?" he drawled quietly. + +Pop acted upon the instinct which was the result of many years' +dealings with minions of the law. He had been a contributor to the +"cause" back in the days of Boss Tweed. He temporarily forgot that +times had changed. + +"That's all right, pal," he said, with a sickly smile, "just a little +token for the wife and kids." + +He handed out a roll of bills which he pressed against Bobbie's hands. +The policeman looked at him with a curious squint. + +"So, you think that will fix me, do you?" + +"Well, if you're a little hard up, old fellow, you know I'm a good +fellow...." + +Up the stairs there was a scuffle. + +Bobbie heard another scream. So, before Pop could utter another sound +he pushed the old man aside and rushed up, three steps at a time. The +first door he saw was locked--behind it Bobbie knew a woman was being +mistreated. + +He rushed the door and gave it a kick with his stout service boots. + +A chair was standing in the hall. He snatched this up and began +smashing at the door, directing vigorous blows at the lock. The first +leg broke off. Then the second. The third was smashed, but the fourth +one did the trick. The door swung open, and as it did so a water +pitcher, thrown with precision and skill, grazed his forehead. Only a +quick dodge saved him from another skull wound. + +Burke sprang into the room. + +There were three men in it, while Madame Blanche, the proprietress of +the miserable establishment, stood in the middle transfixed with fear. +She still held in her hand the black snake whip with which she had been +"taming" one of the sobbing Swedish girls. The Swede held one of his +country-women in a rough grip. + +The country girl, who had been hitherto locked in the closet, was down +on her knees, her bruised hands outstretched toward Burke. + +"Oh, save me!" she cried. + +The last of the victims, who was evidently unconscious from a drug, was +lying on the floor in a pathetic little heap. + +Baxter was cowering behind the bed. + +The barred windows, placed there to prevent the escape of the +unfortunate girl prisoners, were their Nemesis, for they were at the +mercy of the lone policeman. + +"Drop that gun!" snapped Burke, as he saw the Swede reaching stealthily +toward a pocket. + +His own, a blue-steeled weapon, was swinging from side to side as he +covered them. + +"Hands up, every one, and march down these stairs before me!" he +ordered. Just then he heard a footstep behind him. Old Pop was +creeping up the steps with Madame Blanche's carving knife, snatched +hastily from the dining-room table. + +Burke, cat-like, caught a side glance of this assailant, and he swung +completely around, kicking Pop below the chin. That worthy tumbled +down the stairs with a howl of pain. + +"Now, I'm going to shoot to kill. Every court in the state will +sustain a policeman who shoots a white-slaver. Don't forget that!" +cried Burke sharply. "You girls let them go first." + +[Illustration: "I'm going to shoot to kill. Every court in the state +will sustain a policeman who shoots a white-slaver."] + +Down the steps went the motley crew, backing slowly at Burke's order. +The girls, sobbing hysterically with joy at their rescue, almost +impeded the bluecoat's defense as they clung to his arms. + +It was a curious procession which met the eyes of Reggie Van Nostrand +and half a dozen reserves who had just run up the steps. + +"Well, I say old chap, isn't this jolly?" cried Reggie. "This beats +any show I ever saw! Why, it's a regular Broadway play!" + +"You bet it is, and you helped me well. The papers ought to give you a +good spread to-morrow, Mr. Van Nostrand," answered Bobbie grimly, as he +shook the young millionaire's hand with warmth. The gang were rapidly +being handcuffed by the reserves. + +Bobbie turned toward Baxter. It was a great moment of triumph for him. +"Well, Baxter, so I got you at last! You're the pretty boy who takes +young girls out to turkey trots! Now, you can join a dancing class up +the Hudson, and learn the new lock-step glide!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE REVENGE OF JIMMIE THE MONK + +At the uptown station house Burke and his fellow officers had more than +a few difficulties to surmount. The two Swedish girls were hysterical +with fright, and stolid as the people of northern Europe generally are, +under the stress of their experience the young women were almost +uncontrollable. It was not until some gentle matrons from the Swedish +Emigrant Society had come to comfort them in the familiar tongue that +they became normal enough to tell their names and the address of the +unfortunate cousin. This man was eventually located and he led his +kinswomen off happy and hopeful once more. + +Sallie, the negress, was remanded for trial, in company with her +sobbing mistress, who realized that she was facing the certainty of a +term of years in the Federal prison. + +Uncle Sam and his legal assistants are not kind to "captains of +industry" in this particular branch of interstate commerce. + +"We have the goods on them," said the Federal detective who had been +summoned at once to go over the evidence to be found in the carefully +guarded house of Madame Blanche. "This place, to judge from the +records has been run along two lines. For one thing, it is what we +term a 'house of call.' Madame Blanche has a regular card index of at +least two hundred girls." + +"Then, that gives a pretty good list for you to get after, doesn't it?" +said Burke, who was joining in the conference between the detective, +the captain of the precinct, and the inspector of the police district. + +"Well, the list won't do much good. About all you can actually prove +is that these girls are bad ones. There's a description of each girl, +her age, her height, her complexion and the color of her hair. It's +horribly business like," replied the detective. "But I'm used to this. +We don't often get such a complete one for our records. This list +alone is no proof against the girls--even if it does give the list +price of their shame, like the tag on a department store article. This +woman has been keeping what you might call an employment agency by +telephone. When a certain type of girl is wanted, with a certain +price--and that's the mark of her swellness, as you might call +it--Madame Blanche is called up. The girl is sent to the address +given, and she, too, is given her orders over the telephone; so you see +nothing goes on in this house which would make it strictly within the +law as a house of ill repute." + +"But, do you think there is much of this particular kind of trade?" +queried Bobbie. "I've heard a lot of this sort of thing. But I put +down a great deal of it to the talk of men who haven't anything else +much to discuss." + +"There certainly is a lot of it. When the police cleaned up the old +districts along Twenty-ninth Street and Thirtieth and threw the regular +houses out of the business, the call system grew up. These girls, many +of them, live in quiet boarding houses and hotels where they keep up a +strict appearance of decency--and yet they are living the worst kind of +immoral lives, because they follow this trade scientifically." + +Reggie Van Nostrand, by reason of his gallant assistance, and at his +urgent request, had been allowed to listen. + +"By George, gentlemen, I have a lot of money that I don't know what to +do with. I wish there was some way I could help in getting this sort +of thing stopped. Here's my life--I've been a silly spender of a lot +of money my great grandfather made because he bought a farm and never +sold it--right in the heart of what is now the busy section of town. I +can't think of anything very bad that I've done, and still less any +good that will amount to anything after I die. I'm going to spend some +of what I don't need toward helping the work of cleaning out this evil." + +The inspector grunted. + +"Well, young man, if you spend it toward letting people know just how +bad conditions are, and not covering the truth up or not trying to +reform humanity by concealing the ugly things, you may do a lot. But +don't be a _reformer_." + +"What can be done with this woman Blanche?" asked Van Nostrand meekly. + +"She'll be put where she won't have to worry about telephone calls and +card indexes. Every one of these girls should be locked up, and given +a good strong hint to get a job. It won't do much good. But, we've +got this much of their records, and will be able to drive some of them +out of the trade. When every big city keeps on driving them out, and +the smaller cities do the same, they'll find that it's easier to give +up silk dresses forever and get other work than to starve to death. +But you can't get every city in the country doing this until the men +and women of influence, the mothers and fathers are so worked up over +the rottenness of it all that they want to house-clean their own +surroundings." + +"One thing that should be done in New York and other towns is to put +the name of the owner of every building on a little tablet by the door. +If that was done here in New York," said the inspector, "you'd be +surprised to see how much real estate would be sold by church vestries, +charitable organizations, bankers, old families, and other people who +get big profits from the high rent that a questionable tenant is +willing to pay." + +"Madame Blanche, and these poor specimens of manhood with her are +guilty of trafficking in girls for sale in different states. These +Swedes were to be sent to Minnesota, and her records show that she has +been supplying the Crib, in New Orleans, and what's left of the Barbary +Coast in Chicago. Why, she has sent six girls to the Beverly Club in +Chicago during the last month." + +"Where does she get them all?" asked Burke. "I've been trailing some +of these gangsters, but they certainly can't supply them all, like +this." + +The detective shook his head, and spoke slowly. + +"There are about three big clearing houses of vice in New York, and +they are run by men of genius, wealth and enormous power. I'm going to +run them down yet. You've helped on this, Officer Burke. If you can +do more and get at the men higher up--there's not a mention of their +location in all of Blanche's accounts, not a single check book--then, +you will get a big reward from the Department of Justice. For Uncle +Sam is not sleeping with the enemy inside his fortifications." + +Burke's eyes snapped with the fighting spirit. + +"I've been doing my best with them since I got on the force, and I hope +to do more if they don't finish me first. A little Italian fruit man +down in my precinct sent word to me to-day that they were 'after me.' +So, maybe I will not have a chance." + +Van Nostrand interrupted at this point. + +"Well, Officer 4434, you can have the backing of all the money you need +as far as I am concerned. You'll have to come down to my offices some +day soon, and we'll work out a plan of getting after these people. Can +I do anything more, inspector?" + +The official shook his head. + +"There's a poor young woman here who is half drugged, and doesn't know +who she is," he began. + +"Well, send her to some good private hospital and have her taken care +of and send the bill to me," said Reggie. "I've got to be getting +downtown. Goodbye, Officer Burke, don't forget me." + +"Goodbye--you've been a fine chauffeur and a better detective," said +the young policeman, "even if you are a millionaire." And the two +young men laughed with an unusual cordiality as they shook hands. +Despite the difference in their stations it was the similarity of red +blood in them both which melted away the barriers, and later developed +an unconventional and permanent friendship between them. + +Burke talked with Henrietta Bailey, the country girl, who sat +dejectedly in the station house. She had no plans for the future, +having come to the big city to look for a position, trusting in the +help of the famous Y.W.C.A. organization, of whose good deeds and +protection she had heard so much, even in the little town up state. + +"I'll call them up, down at their main offices," said Bobbie, "but it's +a big society and they have all they can do. Wouldn't you like to meet +a nice sweet girl who will take a personal interest in you, and go down +there with you herself?" + +Henrietta tried to hold back the tears. + +"Oh, land sakes," she began, stammering, "I ... do ... want to just +blubber on somebody's shoulder. I'm skeered of all these New York +folks, and I'm so lonesome, Mr. Constable." + +"We'll just cure that, then," answered Burke. "I'll introduce you to +the very finest girl in the world, and she'll show you that hearts beat +as warmly in a big city as they do in a village of two hundred people." + +Bobbie lost no time in telephoning Mary Barton, who was just on the +point of leaving Monnarde's candy store. + +She came directly uptown to meet the country girl and take her to the +modest apartment for the night. + +Bobbie devoted the interim to making his report on the unusual +circumstances of his one-man raid ... and dodging the police reporters +who were on the scene like hawks as soon as the news had leaked out. + +Despite his declaration that the credit should go to the precinct in +which the arrests had been made half a dozen photographers, with their +black artillery-like cameras had snapped views of the house, and some +grotesque portraits of the young officer. Other camera men, with +newspaper celerity, had captured the aristocratic features of Reggie +Van Nostrand and his racing car, as he sat in it before his Fifth +Avenue club. It was such a story that city editors gloated over, and +it was to give the embarrassed policeman more trouble than it was worth. + +Bobbie's telephone report to Captain Sawyer, explaining his absence +from the downtown station house was greeted with commendation. + +"That's all right, Burke, go as far as you like. A few more cases like +that and you'll be on the honor list for the Police Parade Day. Clean +it up as soon as you can," retorted his superior. + +When Mary took charge of Henrietta Bailey, the hapless girl felt as +though life were again worth living. After a good cry in the matron's +room, she was bundled up, her rattan suitcase and the weather-beaten +band boxes were carried over to the Barton home. + +"I don't know whether you had better say anything about this Baxter to +Lorna or not," said Bobbie, as he stood outside the house, to start on +his way downtown. "It's a horrible affair, and her escape from the +man's clutches was a close one." + +"She's cured now, however," stoutly declared Mary. "I have no fears +for Lorna." + +"Then do as you think best. I'll see you to-morrow afternoon, there at +the store, and you can take supper downtown with me if you would like. +If there is any way I can help about this girl let me know." + +They separated, and Mary took her guest upstairs. + +Her father was greatly excited for he had just put the finishing +touches on his dictagraph-recorder. His mind was so over-wrought with +his work that Mary thought it better not to tell him of the exciting +afternoon until later. She simply introduced Henrietta as a friend +from the country who was going to spend the night. Lorna was courteous +enough to the newcomer, but seemed abstracted and dreamy. She +neglected the little household duties, making the burden harder for +Mary. Henrietta's rustic training, however, asserted itself, and she +gladly took a hand in the preparation of the evening meal. + +"I've a novel I want to finish reading, Mary," said her sister, "and if +you don't mind I'm going to do it. You and Miss Bailey don't need me. +I'll go into our room until supper is ready." + +"What is it, dear? It must be very interesting," replied Mary, a shade +of uneasiness coming over her. "You are not usually so literary after +the hard work at the store all day." + +Lorna laughed. + +"It's time I improved my mind, then. A friend gave it to me--it's the +story of a chorus girl who married a rich club man, by Robin Chalmers, +and oh, Mary! It's simply the most exciting thing you ever read. The +stage does give a girl chances that she never gets working in a store, +doesn't it?" + +"There are several kinds of chances, Lorna," answered the older girl +slowly. "There are many girls who beautify their own lives by their +success on the stage, but you know, there are a great many more who +find in that life a terrible current to fight against. While they may +make large salaries, as measured against what you and I earn, they must +rehearse sometimes for months without salary at all. If the show is +successful they are in luck for a while, and their pictures are in +every paper. They spend their salary money to buy prettier clothes and +to live in beautiful surroundings, and they gauge their expenditures +upon what they are earning from week to week. But girls I have known +tell me that is the great trouble. For when the play loses its +popularity, or fails, they have accustomed themselves to extravagant +tastes, and they must rehearse for another show, without money coming +in." + +"Oh, but a clever girl can pick out a good opportunity." + +"No, she can't. She is dependent upon the judgment of the managers, +and if you watch and see that two of every three shows put on right in +New York never last a month out, you'll see that the managers' judgment +is not so very keen. Even the best season of a play hardly lasts +thirty weeks--a little over half a year, and so you must divide a +girl's salary in two to find what she makes in a year's time. You and +I, in the candy store, are making more money than a girl who gets three +times the money a week on the stage, for we have a whole year of work, +and we don't have to go to manicures and modistes and hairdressers two +or three times a week." + +"Well, I wish we did!" retorted Lorna petulantly. "There's no romance +in you, Mary. You're just humdrum and old-fashioned and narrow. Think +of the beautiful costumes, and the lights, the music, the applause of +thousands! Oh, it must be wonderful to thrill an audience, and have +hundreds of men worshiping you, and all that, Mary." + +Her sister's eyes filled with tears as she turned away. + +"Go on with your book, Lorna," she murmured. "Maybe some day you'll +read one which will teach you that old fashions are not so bad, that +there's romance in home and that the true, decent love of one man is a +million times better than the applause, and the flowers, and the +flattery of hundreds. I've read such books." + +"Hum!" sniffed Lorna, "I don't doubt it. Written by old maids who +could never attract a man, nor look pretty themselves. Well, none of +the girls I know bother with such books: there are too many lively ones +written nowadays. Call me when supper is ready, for I'm hungry." + +And she adjusted her curls before flouncing into the bedroom to lose +herself in the adventures of the patchouli heroine. + +It was a quiet evening at the Barton home. The father was too +engrossed to give more than abstracted heed, even to the appetizing +meal. Mary forbore to interrupt his thoughts about the new machine. +She felt a hesitation about narrating the afternoon's adventures of +Bobbie Burke to Lorna, for the girl seemed estranged and eager only for +the false romance of her novel. With Henrietta, Mary discussed the +opportunities for work in the great city, already overcrowded with +struggling girls. So convincing was she, the country lass decided that +she would take the train next morning back to the little town where she +could be safe from the excitement and the dangers of the city lure. + +"I reckon I'm a scared country mouse," she declared. "But I'm old +enough to know a warning when I get one. The Lord didn't intend me to +be a city girl, or he wouldn't have given me this lesson to-day. I've +got my old grand dad up home, and there's Joe Mills, who is foreman in +the furniture factory. I think I'd better get back and help Joe spend +his eighteen a week in the little Clemmons house the way he wanted me +to do." + +"You couldn't do a better thing in the world," said Mary, patting her +hand gently as they sat in the cosy little kitchen. "Your little town +would be a finer place to bring up little Joes and little Henriettas +than this big city, wouldn't it? And I don't believe the right Joe +ever comes but once in a girl's life. There aren't many fellows who +are willing to share eighteen a week with a girl in New York." + +Mary's guest blushed happily as the light of a new determination shone +in her eyes. She opened a locket which she wore on a chain around her +neck. + +"I always thought Joe was nice, and all that--but I read these here +stories about the city fellers, and I seen the pictures in the +magazines, and thought Joe was a rube. But he ain't, is he?" + +She held up the little picture, as she opened the locket, for Mary's +scrutiny. The honest, smiling face, the square jaw, the clear eyes of +Joe looked forth as though in greeting of an old friend. + +"You can't get back to Joe any too quickly," advised Mary, and +Henrietta wiped her eyes. She had received a homeopathic cure of the +city madness in one brief treatment! + +It was not a quiet evening for Officer 4434. + +When he emerged from the Subway at Fourteenth Street a newsboy +approached him with a bundle of papers. + +"Uxtry! Uxtry!" shouted the youngster. "Read all about de cop and de +millionaire dat captured de white slavers!" + +The lad shoved a paper at Bobbie, who tossed him a nickel and hurried +on, quizzically glancing at the flaring headlines which featured the +name of Reggie Van Nostrand and his own. The quickly made +illustrations, showing his picture, the machine of the young clubman, +and the house of slavery were startling. The traditional arrow +indicated "where the battle was fought," and Burke laughed as he +studied the sensational report. + +"Well, I look more like a gangster, according to this picture, than +Jimmie the Monk! Those news photographers don't flatter a fellow very +much." + +At the station house he was warmly greeted by his brother officers. It +was embarrassing, to put it mildly; Burke had no desire for a pedestal. + +"Oh, quit it, boys," he protested. "You fellows do more than this +every day of your lives. I'm only a rookie and I know it. I don't +want this sort of thing and wish those fool reporters had minded their +own business." + +"That's all right, Bobbie," said Doctor MacFarland, who had dropped in +on his routine call, "you'd better mind your own p's and q's, for you +will be a marked man in this neighborhood. It's none too savory at +best. You know how these gunmen hate any policeman, and now they've +got your photograph and your number they won't lose a minute to use +that knowledge. Keep your eyes on all points of the compass when you +go out to-night." + +"I'll try not to go napping, Doc," answered Burke gratefully. "You're +a good friend of mine, and I appreciate your advice. But I don't +expect any more trouble than usual." + +After his patrol duty Burke was scheduled for a period on fixed post. +It was the same location as that on which he had made the acquaintance +of Jimmie the Monk and Dutch Annie several months before. As a +coincidence, it began to storm, just as it had on that memorable +evening, except that instead of the blighting snow blizzards, furious +sheets of rain swept the dirty streets, and sent pedestrians under the +dripping shelter of vestibules and awnings. + +Burke, without the protection of a raincoat, walked back and forth in +the small compass of space allowed the peg-post watcher, beating his +arms together to warm himself against the sickening chill of his +dripping clothes. + +As he waited he saw a man come out of the corner saloon. + +It was no other than Shultberger, the proprietor of the café and its +cabaret annex. The man wore a raincoat, and a hat pulled down over his +eyes. He came to the middle of the crossing and closely scrutinized +the young policeman. + +"Is dot you, Burke?" he asked gruffly. + +"Yes, what do you want of me?" + +"Veil, I joost vanted to know dat a good man vos on post to-night, for +I expect troubles mit dese gun-men. Dey don't like me, und I t'ought +I'd find out who vos here." + +This struck 4434 as curious. He knew that Shultberger was the guardian +angel of the neighborhood toughs in time of storm and trouble. Yet he +was anxious to do his duty. + +"What's the trouble? Are they starting anything?" + +The saloon man shook his head as he started back to his café. + +"Oh, no. But ve all know vot a fighter you vos to-day. De papers is +full mit it. Dey've got purty picture of you, too. I joost vos +skeered dot dey might pick on me because I vos always running a orderly +place, und because I'm de frend of de police. I'll call you if I need +you." + +He disappeared in the doorway. + +Burke watched him, thinking hard. Perhaps they were planning some +deviltry, but he could not divine the purpose of it. At any rate he +was armed with his night stick and his trusty revolver. He had a clear +space in which to protect himself, and he was not frightened by ghosts. +So, alert though he was, his mind was not uneasy. + +He turned casually, on his heels, to look up the Avenue. He was +startled to see two stocky figures within five feet of him. That quick +right-about had saved him from an attack, although he did not realize +it. The approach of the men had been absolutely noiseless. + +The rain beat down in his face, and the men hesitated an instant, as +though interrupted in some plan. It did not occur to Burke that they +had approached him with a purpose. + +He looked at them sharply, by force of habit. Their evil faces showed +pallid and grewsome in the flickering light of the arc-lamp on the +corner by Shultberger's place. + +The two men glared at him shrewdly, and then passed on by without a +word. They walked half way down the block, and Burke, watching them +from the corner of his eye, saw them cross the street and turn into the +rear entrance of Shultberger's cabaret restaurant. + +"Well, he's having some high-class callers to-night," mused Burke. +"Perhaps he'll need a little help after all." + +Even as he thought this he heard a crash of broken glass, and he turned +abruptly toward the direction of the sound. + +The arc-light had gone out. + +Burke walked across the street and fumbled with his feet, feeling the +broken glass which had showered down near the base of the pole. + +"I wonder what happened to that lamp? They don't burst of their own +accord like this generally." + +He walked back to his position. The street was now very dark, because +the nearest burning arc-lamp was half a block to the south. As Burke +pondered on the situation he heard footsteps to his left. He turned +about and a familiar voice greeted him. It was Patrolman Maguire. + +"Well, Burke, your sins should sure be washed away in this deluge! I +thought that I'd step up a minute and give you a chance to go get some +dry clothes and a raincoat. You've another hour on the peg before I +relieve you, but hustle down to the station house and rig yourself up, +me lad." + +It was a welcome cheery voice from the dismal night shades. But Burke +objected to the suggestion. + +"No, Maguire, I'll stick it out. I think there's trouble brewing, and +it's only sixty more minutes. You keep on your patrol. We both might +get a call-down for changing." + +"Well, begorra, if there's any call-down for a little humanity, I don't +give a rap. You go get some dry clothes. I know Cap. Sawyer won't +mind. You can be back here in five minutes. You've done enough to-day +to deserve a little consideration, me boy. Hustle now!" + +Burke was chilled to the marrow and his teeth chattered, even though it +was a Spring rain, and not the icy blasts of the earlier post nights. + +"Well, keep a sharp lookout for this crowd around Shultberger's, Mack!" + +He yielded, and turned toward the station house with a quick stride. +He had hardly gone half a block before Maguire had reason to remember +the warning. A cry of distress came from the vestibule of +Shultberger's front entrance. The lights of the saloon had been +suddenly extinguished. + +"Sure, and that's some monkey business," thought Maguire, as he ran +toward the doorway. + +He pounded on the pavement with his night stick, and the resonant sound +stopped Burke's retreat to the station. Officer 4434 wheeled about and +ran for the post he had just left. + +Maguire had barely reached the doorway of the saloon when a revolver +shot rang out, and the red tongue licked his face. + +"Now we got 'im!" cried a voice. + +"Kill the rookie!" + +"That's Burke, all right!" + +Maguire felt a stinging sensation in his shoulder, and his nightstick +dropped with a thud to the sidewalk. Three figures pounded upon him, +and again the revolver spoke. This time there was no fault in the aim. +A gallant Irish soul passed to its final goal as the weapon barked for +the third time. + +Burke's heart was in his mouth; it was no personal fear, but for the +beloved comrade whom he felt sure had stepped into the fate intended +for himself. He drew his revolver as he ran, and swung his stick from +its leathern handle thong resoundingly on the sidewalk as he raced +toward the direction of the scuffle. + +A short figure darted out from a doorway as he approached the corner +and deftly stuck a foot forward, tripping the policeman. + +"Beat it, fellers!" called this adept, whose voice Burke recognized as +that of Jimmie the Monk. It was a clever campaign which the gangsters +had laid out, but their mistake in picking the man cost them dearly. + +As he called, the Monk darted down the street for a quick escape, +feeling confident that his enemy was lying dead in the doorway on the +corner. Burke forgot the orders of the Mayor against the use of +fire-arms; his mind inadvertently swung into the fighting mood of the +old days in the Philippines, when native devils were dealt justice as +befitted their own methods. + +He had fallen heavily on the wet pavement, and slid. But, at the +recognition of that evil voice, he rolled over, and half lying on the +pavement he leveled his revolver at the fleeting figure of the gang +leader. + +Bang! One shot did the work, and Jimmie the Monk crumpled forward, +with a leg which was never again to lead in another Bowery "spiel" or +club prize fight. + +"He's fixed," thought Burke, and he sprang up, to run forward to the +vestibule of Shultberger's. There he found the body of Maguire +sprawled out, with the blood of the Irish kings mingling with the +rainwater on the East Side street. + +One man was hiding in the doorway's shelter. Another was scuttling +down the street, to run full into the arms of an approaching roundsman. + +As Burke stooped over the form of his comrade a black-jack struck his +shoulder. He sprang upward, partially numbed from the blow, but +summoning all his strength he caught the gangster by the arm and +shoulder and flung him bodily through the glass door which smashed with +a clatter. + +Burke kicked at the door as he fought with the murderer, and his weight +forced it open. + +A whisky bottle whizzed through the air from behind the bar. +Shultberger was in the battle. Burke's night stick ended the struggle +with his one assailant, and he ran for the long bar, which he vaulted, +as the saloon-keeper dodged backward. Another revolver shot +reverberated as the proprietor retreated. But, at this rough and +tumble fight, Burke used the greatest fighting projectile of the +policeman; he threw the loaded night stick with unerring aim, striking +Shultberger full in the face. The man screamed as he fell backward. + +Half a dozen policemen had surrounded the saloon by this time, and +Burke fumbled around until he found the electric light switch near the +cash register. He threw a flood of light on the scene of destruction. + +Shultberger, pulling himself up to his knees, his face and mouth gory +from the catapult's stroke, moaned with agony as he clawed blindly. +Patrolman White was tugging at the gangster who had been knocked +unconscious by Burke's club. Outside two of the uniformed men were +reverently lifting the corpse of Terence Maguire, who was on his +Eternal Fixed Post. + +"Have ... have you sent ... for an ambulance?" cried Bobbie. + +"Yes, Burke," said the sergeant, who had examined the dead man. "But +it's too late. Poor Mack, poor old Mack!" + +A patrol wagon was clanging its gong as the driver spurred the horses +on. Captain Sawyer dismounted from the seat by the driver. The bad +news had traveled rapidly. Suddenly Burke, remembering the fleeing +Jimmie, dashed from the saloon, and forced his way through the swarming +crowd which had been drawn from the neighboring tenements by the +excitement. + +"Is the boy crazy?" asked Sawyer. "Hurry, White, and notify the +Coroner, for I don't intend to allow Terence Maguire to lie in this +rotten den very long." + +Burke ran along the wet street, looking vainly for the wounded +gang-leader. Jimmie was not in sight! Burke went the entire length of +the block, and then slowly retraced his steps. + +He scrutinized every hallway and cellar entrance. + +At last his vigilance was rewarded. Down the steps, beneath a +half-opened bulkhead door, he found his quarry. + +The Monk was moaning with pain from a shattered leg-bone. + +Burke clambered down and tried to lift the wounded man. + +"Get up here!" he commanded. + +"Oh, dey didn't get ye, after all!" cried Jimmie, recognizing his +voice. He sank his teeth in the hand which was stretched forth to help +him. Burke swung his left hand, still numb from the black-jack blow on +his shoulder, and caught the ruffian's nose and forehead. A vigorous +pull drew the fellow's teeth loose with a jerk. + +"Well, you dog!" grunted the policeman, as he dragged the gangster to +the street level. "You'll have iron bars to bite before many hours, +and then the electric chair!" + +Jimmie's nerve went back on him. + +"Oh, Gaud! Dey can't do dat! I didn't do it. I wasn't dere!" + +Burke said nothing, but holding the man down to the pavement with a +knee on his back, he whistled for the patrol wagon. + +The prisoners were soon arraigned, Shultberger, Jimmie the Monk and the +first gangster were sent to the hospital shortly after under guard. +The second runner, who had been caught by White, was searched, and by +comparison of the weapons and the empty chambers of each one the police +deduced that it was he who had fired the shots which killed Maguire. +The entire band, including the saloon-keeper, were equally guilty +before the law, and their trial and sentencing to pay the penalty were +assured. + +But back in the station house, late that night, the thought of +punishment brought little consolation to a heart-broken corps of +policemen. + +Big, husky men sobbed like women. Death on duty was no stranger in +their lives; but the loss of rollicking, generous Maguire was a bitter +shock just the same. + +And next morning, as Burke read the papers, after a wretched, sleepless +night, he saw the customary fifteen line article, headed: "ANOTHER +POLICEMAN MURDERED BY GANGSTERS." Five million fellow New Yorkers +doubtless saw the brief story as well, and passed it by to read the +baseball gossip, the divorce news, or the stock quotations--without a +fleeting thought of regret. + +It was just the same old story, you know. + +Had it been the story of a political boss's beer-party to the bums of +his ward; had it been an account of Mrs. Van Astorbilt's elopement with +a plumber; had it been the life-story of a shooting show girl; had it +been the description of the latest style in slit skirts; had it been a +sarcastic message from some drunken, over-rated city official; had it +been a sympathy-squad description of the hardships and soul-beauties of +a millionaire murderer it would have met with close attention. + +But what is so stale as the oft-told, ever-old yarn of a policeman's +death? + +"What do we pay them for?" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +LORNA'S QUEST FOR PLEASURE + +In the same morning papers Burke saw lengthy notices of the engagement +of Miss Sylvia Trubus, only child of William Trubus, the famous +philanthropist, to Ralph Gresham, the millionaire manufacturer of +electrical machinery. + +"There, that should interest Mr. Barton. His ex-employer is marrying +into a very good family, to put it mildly, and Trubus will have a very +rich son-in-law! I wonder if she'll be as happy as I intend to make +Mary when she says the word?" + +He cut one of the articles out of the paper, putting it into his pocket +to show Mary that evening. He had a wearing and sorrowful day; his +testimony was important for the arraignment of the dozen or more +criminals who had been rounded up through his efforts during the +preceding twenty-four hours. The gloom of Maguire's death held him in +its pall throughout the day in court. + +He hurried uptown to meet Mary as she left the big confectionery store +at closing time. + +Mary had been busy and worried through the day. At noon she had gone +to the station to bid goodbye to Henrietta Bailey, who was now well on +her way to the old town and Joe. + +As the working day drew to a close Mary was kept busy filling a large +order for a kindly faced society woman and her pretty daughter. + +"You have waited on me several times before," she told Mary, "and you +have such good taste. I want the very cutest bon-bons and favors, and +they must be delivered up on Riverside Drive to our house in time for +dinner. You know my daughter's engagement was announced in the papers +to-day, while we had intended to let it be a surprise at a big dinner +party to-night. Well, the dear girl is very happy, and I want this +dinner to give her one of the sweetest memories of her life." + +Mary entered into the spirit with zest, and being a clever saleswoman, +she collected a wonderful assortment of dainty novelties and +confections, while the manager of the store rubbed his hands together +gleefully as he observed the correspondingly wonderful size of the bill. + +"There, that should help the jollity along," said Mary. "I hope I have +pleased you. I envy your daughter, not for the candies and the dinner, +but for having such a mother. My mother has been dead for years." + +The tears welled into her eyes, and the customer smiled tenderly at her. + +"You are a dear girl, and if ever I have the chance to help you I will; +don't forget it. I am so happy myself; perhaps selfishly so. But my +life has been along such even lines, such a wonderful husband, and such +a daughter. I am so proud of her. She is marrying a young man who is +very rich, yet with a strong character, and he will make her very happy +I am sure. Well, dear, I will give you my address, for I wish you +would see personally that these goodies are delivered to us without +delay." + +Mary took her pad and pencil. + +"Mrs. William Trubus--Riverside Drive." + +The girl's expression was curious; she remembered Bobbie's description +of the husband. It hardly seemed possible that such a man could be +blessed with so sweet a wife and daughter--but such undeserved +blessings seem too often to be the unusual injustice of Fate in this +twisted, tangled old world, as Mary well knew. + +"All right, Mrs. Trubus; I shall follow your instructions and will go +to the delivery room myself to see that they are sent out immediately." + +"Good afternoon, my dear," and Mrs. Trubus and her happy daughter left +the store. + +Mary was as good as her word, and she made sure that the several +parcels were on their way to Riverside Drive before she returned to the +front of the store. When she did so she saw a little tableau, +unobserved by the busy clerks and customers, which made her heart stand +still. + +Lorna was standing by one of the bon-bon show cases talking to a tall +stranger who ogled her in bold fashion, and a manner which indicated +that the conversation was far from that of business. + +"Who can that be?" thought Mary. An intuition of danger crept over her +as she watched the shades of sinister suggestion on the face of the man +who whispered to her sister. + +The man was urging, Lorna half-protesting, as though refusing some +enticing offer. + +Mary stepped closer, and the deep tones of the stranger's voice filled +her with a thrill of loathing. It was a voice which she felt she could +never forget as long as she lived. + +[Illustration: The deep tones of the stranger's voice filled her with a +thrill of loathing.] + +"Come up to my office with me when you finish work and I'll book you up +this very evening. The show will open in two weeks, and I will give +you a speaking part, maybe even one song to sing. You know I'm strong +for you, little girl, and always have been. My influence counts a +lot--and you know influence is the main thing for a successful actress!" + +Mary could stand it no longer. + +She touched Lorna on the arm, and the younger girl turned around +guiltily, her eyes dropping as she saw her sister's stern questioning +look. + +"Who is this man, Lorna?" + +The stranger smiled, and threw his head back defiantly. + +"A friend of mine." + +"What does he want?" + +"That is none of your affair, Mary." + +"It is my affair. You are employed here to work, not to talk with men +nor to flirt. You had better attend to your work. And, as for you, I +shall complain to the manager if you don't get out of here at once!" + +The stranger laughed softly, but there was a brutal twitch to his jaw +as he retorted: "I'm a customer here, and I guess the manager won't +complain if I spend money. Here, little girlie, pick me out a nice box +of chocolates. The most expensive you have. I'm going to take my +sweetheart out to dinner, and I am a man who spends his money right. +I'm not a cheap policeman!" + +Mary's face paled. + +Her blood boiled, and only the breeding of generations of gentlewomen +restrained her from slapping the man's face. She watched Lorna, who +could not restrain a giggle, as she took down a be-ribboned candy box, +and began to fill it with chocolate dainties. + +"Oh, if Bobbie were only here!" thought Mary in despair. "This man is +a villain. It is he who has been filling Lorna's mind with stage talk. +I don't believe he is a theatrical man, either. They would not insult +me so!" + +The manager bustled about. + +"Closing time, girls. Get everything orderly now, and hurry up. You +know, the boss has been kicking about the waste light bills which you +girls run up in getting things straight at the end of the day." + +Mary turned to her own particular counter, and she saw the big man +leave the store, as the manager obsequiously bowed him out. + +In the wardrobe room where they kept their wraps, Mary took Lorna +aside. Her eyes were flaming orbs, as she laid a trembling hand upon +the girl's arm. + +"Lorna, you are not going to that man's office?" + +"Oh, not right away," responded her sister airily. "We are going to +Martin's first for a little dinner, and maybe a tango or two. What's +that to you, Mary? Stick to your policeman." + +Mary dropped her hand weakly. She put on her hat and street-coat, +hardly knowing what she was doing. + +"Oh, Lorna, child, you are so mistaken, so weak," she began. + +"I'm not weak, nor foolish. A girl can't live decently on the money +they pay in this place. I'm going to show how strong I am by earning a +real salary. I can get a hundred a week on the stage with my looks, +and my voice, and my ... figure...." + +In spite of her bravado she hesitated at the last word. It was a +little daring, even to her, and she was forcing a bold front to +maintain her own determination, for the girl had hesitated at the man's +pleadings until her sister's interference had piqued her into obstinacy. + +"It won't hurt to find out how much I can get, even if I don't take the +offer at all," Lorna thought. "I simply will not submit to Mary's +dictation all the time." + +Lorna hurried to the street, closely followed by her sister. + +"Don't go, dear," pleaded Mary. + +But there by the curb panted a big limousine, such as Lorna had always +pictured waiting for her at a stage door; the big man smiled as he held +open the door. Lorna hesitated an instant. Then she espied, coming +around the corner toward them, Bobbie Burke, on his way to meet Mary. + +That settled it. She ran with a laugh toward the door of the +automobile and flounced inside, while the big man followed her, +slamming the portal as the car moved on. + +"Oh, Bob," sobbed Mary, as the young officer reached her side. "Follow +them." + +"What's the matter?" + +"Look, that black automobile!" + +"Yes, yes!" + +"Lorna has gone into it with a theatrical manager. She is going on the +stage!" and Mary caught his hand tensely as she dashed after the car. + +It was a hopeless pursuit, for another machine had already come between +them. It was impossible for Burke to see the number of the car, and +then it turned around the next corner and was lost in the heavy traffic. + +"Oh, what are we to do?" exclaimed Mary in despair. + +"Well, we can go to all the theatrical offices, and make inquiries. I +have my badge under my coat, and they will answer, all right." + +They went to every big office in the whole theatrical district. But +there, too, the search was vain. Mary was too nervous and wretched to +enjoy the possibility of a dinner, and so Burke took her home. Her +father asked for Lorna, to which Mary made some weak excuse which +temporarily quieted the old gentleman. + +Promising to keep up his search in restaurants and offices, Burke +hurried on downtown again. It was useless. Throughout the night he +sought, but no trace of the girl had been found. When he finally went +up to the Barton home to learn if the young girl had returned, he found +the old man frantic with fear and worriment. + +"Burke, some ill has befallen the child," he exclaimed. "Mary has +finally told me the truth, and my heart is breaking." + +"There, sir, you must be patient. We will try our best. I can start +an investigation through police channels that will help along." + +"But father became so worried that we called up your station. The +officer at the other end of the telephone took the name, and said he +would send out a notice to all the stations to start a search." + +"Great Scott! That means publicity, Miss Mary. The papers will have +the story sure, now. There have been so many cases of girls +disappearing lately that they are just eager for another to write up." + +Mary wrung her hands, and the old man chattered on excitedly. + +"Then if it is publicity I don't care. I want my daughter, and I will +do everything in the world to get her." + +Burke calmed them as much as he could, but if ever two people were +frantic with grief it was that unhappy pair. + +[Illustration: Father and daughter were frantic with grief.] + +Bobbie hurried on downtown again, promising to keep them advised about +the situation. + +After he left Mary went to her own room, and by the side of the bed +which she and the absent one had shared so long, she knelt to ask for +stronger aid than any human being could give. + +If ever prayer came from the depths of a broken heart, it was that +forlorn plea for the lost sister! + +All through the night they waited in vain. + + * * * * * + +The first page of every New York paper carried the sensational story of +the disappearance of Lorna Barton. Not that such a happening was +unusual, but in view of the white slavery arrests and the gang fight in +which Bobbie Burke had figured so prominently; his partial connection +with the case, and those details which the fertile-minded reporters +could fill in, it was full of human interest, and "yellow" as the heart +of any editor could desire. + +Pale and heart-sick Mary went down to Monnarde's next morning. The +girls crowded about her in the wardrobe room, some to express real +sympathy, others to show their condescension to one whom they inwardly +felt was far superior in manners, appearance and ability. + +Mary thanked them, and dry-eyed went to her place behind the counter. +For reasons best known to himself, the manager was late in arriving +that morning. The minutes seemed century-long to Mary as she hoped +against hope. + +A surprisingly early customer was Mrs. Trubus, who came hurrying in +from her big automobile. She went to Mary's counter and observed the +girl's demeanor. + +"Dear, was it your sister that I read about in the paper this morning?" +she inquired. + +"Yes," very meekly. Mary tried to hold back the tears which seemed so +near the surface. + +"I am so sorry. I remembered that you once spoke of your sister when +you were waiting on me. The paper said that she worked here at +Monnarde's, and I remembered my promise of yesterday that I would do +anything for you that I could. Mr. Trubus is greatly interested in +philanthropic work, and of course what I could do would be very small +in comparison to his influence. But if there is a single thing...." + +"There's not, I'm afraid. Oh, I'm so miserable--and my poor dear old +daddy!" + +Even as she spoke the manager came bustling into the store. He had +evidently passed an uncomfortable night himself, although from an +entirely different cause. In his hand he bore the morning paper, which +he just bought outside the door from one of several newsboys who stood +there shouting about the "candy store mystery," as one paper had +headlined it. + +"See, here!" cried he, turning to Mary at once. "What do you mean by +bringing this disgrace down upon the most fashionable candy shop in New +York. You will ruin our business." + +"Oh, Mr. Fleming," began Mary brokenly, "I don't understand what you +mean. I have done nothing, sir!" + +"Nothing! _Nothing_! You and this miserable sister of yours! +Complaining to the police, are you, about men flirting with the girls +in my store? Do you think society women want to come to a shop where +the girls flirt with customers? No! I'm done right now. Get your hat +and get out of here!" + +"Why, what do you mean?" gasped the girl, her fingers contracting and +twitching nervously. + +"You're fired--bounced--ousted!" he cried. "That's what I mean." He +turned toward the other girls and in a strident voice, unmindful of the +two or three customers in the place, continued. "Let this be a lesson. +I will discharge every girl in the place if I see her flirting. The +idea!" + +And he pompously walked back to his office as important as a toad in a +lonely puddle. + +Mary turned to the counter, which she caught for support. One of the +girls ran to her, but Mrs. Trubus, standing close by, placed a motherly +arm about her waist. + +"There, you poor dear. Don't you despair. This is a large world, and +there are more places for an honest, clever girl to work in than a +candy store run by a popinjay! You get your hat and get right into my +car, and I will take you down to my husband's office, and see what we +can do there. Come right along, now, with me." + +"Oh, I must go home!" murmured Mary brokenly. + +But at the elderly woman's insistence she walked back, unsteadily, to +the wardrobe room for her hat and coat. + +"How dare you walk out the front way," raved the manager, as she was +leaving with Mrs. Trubus. + +Mary did not hear him. The tears, a blessed relief, were coursing down +her flower-white cheeks as the kindly woman steadied her arm. + +"Well! That suits me well enough," muttered Mr. Fleming +philosophically, as he retired to his private office. "I lost a lot at +poker last night--and here are two salaries for almost a full week that +won't go into anyone's pockets but my own. First, last and always, a +business man, say I." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +CHARITY AND THE MULTITUDE OF SINS + +In the outer office of William Trubus an amiable little scene was being +enacted, far different from the harrowing ones which had made up the +last twelve hours for poor Mary. + +Miss Emerson, the telephone girl, was engaged in animated repartee with +that financial genius of the "Mercantile Agency," with whose workings +the reader may have a slight familiarity, located on the floor below of +the same Fifth Avenue building. + +"Yes, dearie, during business hours I'm as hard as nails, but when I +shut up my desk I'm just as good a fellow as the next one. All work +and no play gathers no moss," remarked Mr. John Clemm. + +"You're a comical fellow, Mr. Clemm. I'd just love to go out to-night, +as you suggest. And if you've got a gent acquaintance who is like you, +I have the swellest little lady friend you ever seen. Her name is +Clarice, and she is a manicure girl at the Astor. We might have a +foursome, you know." + +"That's right, girlie," responded Clemm, as he ingratiatingly placed an +arm about her wasp-like waist. "But two's company, and four's too much +of a corporation for me." + +"Oh, Mr. Clemm--nix on this in here--Mr. Trubus is in his office, and +he'll get wise...." + +As she spoke, not Mr. Trubus, but his estimable wife interrupted the +progress of the courtship. She walked into the doorway, from the +elevator corridor, holding Mary's arm. + +As she saw the lover-like attitude of the plump Mr. Clemm, she gasped, +and then burst out in righteous indignation. + +"Why, you shameless girl, what do you mean by such actions in the +office of the Purity League? I shall tell my husband at once!" + +Miss Emerson sprang away from the amorous entanglement with Mr. Clemm +and tried to say something. She could think of nothing which befitted +the occasion; all her glib eloquence was temporarily asphyxiated. Mr. +Clemm stammered and looked about for some hole in which to conceal +himself. He, too, seemed far different from the pugnacious, +self-confident dictator who reigned supreme on the floor below. + +"William! William Trubus!" called the philanthropist's wife angrily. +Her husband heard from within, and he opened the door with a thoroughly +startled look. + +"My dear wife!" he began, purring and somewhat uncertain as to the +cause of the trouble. Mary, nervous as she was, observed a curious +interchange of glances between the two men. + +"William, I find this brazen creature standing here hugging this man, +as though your office, the Purity League's headquarters, were some +Lover's Lane! It is disgusting." + +"Well, well, my dear," stammered Trubus. "Don't be too harsh." + +"I am not harsh, but I have too much respect for you and the high +ideals for which I know you battle every hour of the day to endure such +a thing. Suppose the Bishop had come in instead of myself? Would he +consider such actions creditable to the great purpose for which the +church takes up collections twice each year throughout his diocese?" + +Trubus tilted back and forth on his toes and tapped the ends of his +plump fingers together. He was sparring for time. The girl looked at +him saucily, and the offending visitor shrugged his shoulders as he +quietly started for the door. + +"Tut, tut, my dear! I shall reprimand the girl." + +"You shall discharge her at once!" insisted Mrs. Trubus, her eyes +flashing. "She will disgrace the office and the great cause." + +Trubus was in a quandary. He looked about him. Miss Emerson, with a +confident smile, walked toward the general office on the left. + +"I should worry about this job. I'm sick of this charity stuff anyway. +I'm going to get a cinch job with a swell broker I know. He runs a lot +of bunco games, too--but he admits. Don't let the old lady worry about +me, Mr. Trubus, but don't forget that I've got two weeks' salary coming +to me. And you just raised my weekly insult to twenty-five dollars +last Saturday, you know, Mr. Trubus." + +With this Parthian shot, she slammed the door of the general +stenographers' room, and left Mr. Trubus to face his irate wife. + +"You pay that girl twenty-five dollars for attending to a telephone, +William? Why, that's more money than you earned when we had been +married ten years. Twenty-five dollars a week for a telephone girl!" + +"There, my dear, it is quite natural. She is especially tactful and +worth it," said Trubus, in embarrassment. "You are not exactly tactful +yourself, my dear, to nag me in front of an employee. As the +Scriptures say, a gentle wife...." + +Mrs. Trubus gave the philanthropist one deep look which seemed to cause +aphasia on the remainder of the Scriptural quotation. + +For the first time Trubus noticed Mary Barton, standing in embarrassed +silence by the door, wishing that she could escape from the scene. + +"Who is this young person, my dear?" + +"This is a young girl who is in deep trouble, and without a position +through no fault of her own. I brought her down to your office to have +you help her, William." + +"But, alas, our finances are so low that we have no room for any +additional office force," began Trubus. + +"There, that will do. If you pay twenty-five dollars a week to the +telephone operator no wonder the finances are low. You have just +discharged her, and I insist on your giving this young lady an +opportunity." + +Trubus reddened, and tried to object. + +But his good wife overruled him. + +"Have you ever used a switchboard, miss?" he began. + +"Yes, sir. In my last position I began on the switchboard, and worked +that way for nearly two months. I am sure I can do it." + +Trubus did not seem so optimistic. But, at his wife's silent +argument--looks more eloquent than a half hour of oratory, he nodded +grudgingly. + +"Well, you can start in. Just hang your hat over on the wall hook. +Come into my office, my dear wife." + +They entered, and Mary sat down, still in a daze. She had been so +suddenly discharged and then employed again that it seemed a dream. +Even the terrible hours of the night seemed some hideous nightmare +rather than reality. + +Miss Emerson came from the side room, attired in a street garb which +would have brought envy to many a chorus girl. + +"Oh, my dear, and so you are to follow my job. Well, I wish you joy, +sweetie. Tell Papa Trubus that I'll be back after lunch time for my +check. And keep your lamps rolling on the old gink and he'll raise +your salary once a month. He's not such a dead one if he is strong on +this charity game. Life with Trubus is just one telephone girl after +another ... ta, ta, dearie. I'm off stage." + +And she departed, leaving simple Mary decidedly mystified by her +diatribe. + +A few minutes brought another diversion. This time it was Sylvia +Trubus and Ralph Gresham, her fiancé, come for a call. + +"Is my father in?" she asked, absorbed in the well groomed, selfish +young man. Mary rang the private bell and announced Miss Trubus. Her +father hurried to the door, and when he saw his prospective son-in-law +his face wreathed in smiles. + +"Ah, Mr. Gresham, Ralph, I might say, I am delighted! Come right in!" + +Mary was startled as she heard the name of the young girl's sweetheart. + +"I'm afraid that she will not be as happy as she thinks, if daddy has +told me right about Ralph Gresham. But, oh, if I could hear something +from Bobbie about Lorna. I believe I will call him up." + +She was just summoning the courage for a private call when the private +office door opened, and Gresham, Sylvia, her mother and Trubus emerged. + +"I will return in ten minutes, Miss," said Trubus. "If there are any +calls just take a record of them. Allow no one to go into my private +office." + +"Yes, sir." + +Mary waited patiently for a few moments, when suddenly a telephone bell +began to jangle inside the private office. + +"That's curious," she murmured, looking at her own key-board. "There's +no connection." Again she heard it, insistent, yet muffled. + +She walked to the door and opened it. As she did so the wind blew in +from the open casement, making a strong draught. Half a dozen papers +blew from Trubus' desk to the floor. Frightened lest her +inquisitiveness should cause trouble, Mary hurriedly stooped and picked +up the papers, carrying them back to the desk. As she leaned over it +she noticed a curious little metal box, glass-covered. Under this +glass an automatic pencil was writing by electrical connection. + +"What on earth can that be?" she wondered. The bell tinkled, in its +muffled way, once more. + +The moving pencil went on. She watched it, fascinated, even at the +risk of being caught, hardly realizing that she was doing what might be +termed a dishonorable act. + +"Paid Sawyer $250. Girl safe, but still unconscious." + +Mary's heart beat suddenly. The thought of her own sister was so +burdensome upon her own mind that the mention by this mysterious +communication of a girl, "safe but still unconscious," strung her +nerves as though with an electric shock. She leaned over the little +recording instrument, which was built on a hinged shelf that could be +cunningly swung into the desk body, and covered with a false front. As +she did so she saw a curious little instrument, shaped somewhat like +the receiver of a telephone receiver. Mary's experience with her +father's work told her what that instrument was. + +"A dictagraph!" she exclaimed. + +Instinctively she picked it up, and heard a conversation which was so +startling in its import to herself that her heart seemed to congeal for +an instant. + +"I tell you, Jack, the girl is still absolutely out of it. We can risk +shipping her anywhere the way she is now. I chloroformed her in the +auto as soon as we got away from the candy store. But that Burke +nearly had us, for I saw him coming." + +"You will have to dispose of her to-day, Shepard. Give her some strong +coffee--a good stiff needleful of cocaine will bring her around. Do +something, that's all, or you don't get a red cent of the remaining +three hundred. Now, I'm a busy man. You'll have to talk louder, too, +my hearing isn't what it used to be." + +"Say, Clemm, quit this kidding about your ears. I've tried you out and +you can hear better than I can. There's some game you're working on me +and if there is, I'll...." + +"Can the tragedy, Shepard. Save it for that famous whipping stunt of +yours. Beat this girl up a bit, and tell me where she is." + +"I'll do that in an hour, and not a minute sooner, and I've got to have +the other three hundred." + +Mary dropped the receiver. She wanted to know where that conversation +could come from. Down the side of the desk she traced a delicate wire. +Under the rug it went, and across to the window. She looked out. A +fire escape passed the window. It was open. She saw the little wire +cross through the woodwork to the outside brick construction and down +the wall. Softly she clambered down the fire-escape until she could +peer through the window on the floor below. + +There at a desk, in the private office of the "Mercantile" association, +sat the man who had been hugging her predecessor at Trubus' +switchboard, the man who had exchanged the curious looks with the +philanthropist. Talking to him was the man who had taken her sister +away from the candy store the day before! + +Hurriedly she climbed back up the fire escape into the window, out +through the door of the private office, closing it behind her. + +She telephoned Bobbie at the station house. Fortunately he was there. +She gave him her address, and before he could express his surprise +begged him to hurry to the doorway of the building and wait for her. + +He promised. + +Mary kept her nerves as quiet as she could, praying that the man Sawyer +would not leave before she could follow him with Bobbie. In a few +minutes one of the girls from the stenography room came out. Seeing +that she was the new girl the young woman spoke: "Do you want me to +relieve you while you go to lunch. I'm not going out to-day. I'm so +glad to see anyone here but that fresh Miss Emerson that it will be a +pleasure." + +"Thank you. I do want to go now," said Mary nervously. She hurriedly +donned her hat and rushed down to the street. Bobbie was waiting for +her, as he had lost not a minute. + +They waited behind the big door column for several minutes. Suddenly a +man came swinging through the portal. It was Sawyer. + +Bobbie remembered him instantly, while Mary gripped his arm until she +pinched it. + +"We'll follow him," said Burke, for the girl had already told of the +dictagraph conversation. + +Follow him they did. Up one street and down another. At last the man +led them over into Burke's own precinct. He ascended the iron steps of +an old-fashioned house which had once been a splendid mansion in +generations gone by. + +"Ah, that's where Lorna is hidden, as sure as you're standing here, +Mary. From what he said no harm has come to her yet. Hurry with me to +the station house, and we'll have the reserves go through that house in +a jiffy." + +It took not more than ten minutes for the police to surround the house. +But disappointment was their only reward. Somehow or other the rascals +had received a tip of premonition of trouble; perhaps Shepard was +suspicious of his principals, and wished to move the girl out of their +reach. + +The house was empty, except for a few pieces of furniture. + +"Look!" cried Mary, as she went through the rooms with Bob. "There is +a handkerchief. She snatched it up. It was one of her own, with the +initials "M. B." in a monogram. + +"Lorna has been here," she exclaimed. "I remember handing her that +very handkerchief when we were in the store yesterday." + +"What's to be done now?" thought Bobbie. "We had better go up to your +father and tell him what we know--it is not as bad as it might have +been." + +"Precious little comfort," sighed Mary, exhausted beyond tears. + +They reached the desolate home, and Bob broke the news to the old man. +As Mary poured forth her story of the discovery in Trubus' office, her +father's face lighted with renewed hope. + +To their surprise he laughed, softly, and then spoke: + +"Mary, my child, my long hours of study and labor on my own invention +have not been in vain. My dictagraph-recorder--this very model here, +which I have just completed shall be put to its first great test to +save my own daughter. Heaven could reward me in no more wonderful +manner than to let it help in the rescue of little Lorna--why did I not +think of it sooner?" + +"What shall we do, father?" breathlessly cried Mary. + +"Can I help, Mr. Barton?" + +"Describe the arrangement of the offices." + +Mary rapidly limned the plan of the headquarters of the Purity League. +Her father nodded and his lips moved as he repeated her words in a +whisper. + +"I have it now. You must put the instrument under the telephone +switchboard table," he directed. "Pile up a waste-basket, or something +that is handy to keep it out of view. I have already adjusted enough +fresh cylinders to record at least one hour of conversation. This +machine is run by an automatic spring, which you must wind like a +clock. Here I will wind it myself to have all in readiness." + +He rolled his chair swiftly to his work table, and turned the little +crank, continuing his plan of attack. + +"Now, take the long wire, and run it through the door of the private +office up close to the desk. Attach this disc to the dictagraph +receiver. It is so small, and the wiring so fine that it will not be +noticed if it is done correctly. Here, Burke. I will do it now to +this loose dictagraph receiver. Watch me." + +The old man worked swiftly. + +Burke scrutinized each move, and nodded in understanding. + +"Be careful to cover the wire along the floor with a rug--he must never +be allowed to see that, you know. After you have all this prepared, +Mary, you must start the mechanism going, and then get the reproduction +of the conversation as it comes on the dictagraph." + +"All right, father--but how shall we get it there without Mr. Trubus +knowing about it? He is very watchful of that room." + +Barton patted Bobbie's broad shoulder, with a confident smile. + +"I think Officer 4434 can devise a way for that. He has had harder +tasks and won out. Now, hurry down with the machine. It is a bit +heavy. You had better take it in a taxicab. You will spend all your +money on taxicabs, my boy, I am afraid." + +"Well, sir, a little money now isn't important enough to worry about if +it means happiness for the future--for us all." + +Mary's face reddened, and she dropped her eyes. There was an +understanding between the three which needed no words for explanation. +So it is that the sweetest love creeps into its final nestling place. + +"God bless you, my boy. I'm an old man and none too good, but I shall +pray for your success." + +"Good bye," said Bobbie, as he and Mary left with the mechanism. + +Bobbie stopped the taxicab which carried them half a block east of the +office building which was their goal. + +"Mary, I will take this machine up on the floor above Trubus' office, +and hide it in the hall. Then you go to your place in the office and I +will manage a way to draw Mr. Trubus out in a hurry. We will work +together after that, and spread the electric trap for him." + +Mary went direct to the office, where she found Trubus storming about +angrily. + +"What do you mean by staying nearly two hours out at luncheon time?" he +cried. "I am very busy and I want you to be here on duty regularly, +even if my wife did foolishly intercede in your behalf, young woman." + +"I am sorry--I became ill, and was delayed. I will not be late with +you again, sir." + +The president of the Purity League retired to his sanctum, slightly +mollified. Mary had not been at her post long when a messenger came in +with a telegram. + +"Mr. Trubus!" he said, shoving the envelope at her. + +She signed his book, and knocked at the door. There was a little +delay, and the worthy man opened it impatiently. "I do not want to be +interrupted, I am going over my accounts." + +She handed him the telegram, and he tore it open hastily. + +"What's this?" he muttered in excitement. Then he went back for his +silk hat, and left, slamming the door of his private office and +carefully locking it. + +"I wonder what took him out so quickly?" thought Mary. But even as she +mused Bobbie Burke came into the outer office, with the precious +machine wrapped in yellow paper. + +"What took Trubus out, Bobbie?" she asked, as she helped him arrange +the machine behind the wastebasket, near the telephone switchboard. + +"Just a telegram, signed 'Friend,' advising him to watch the men who +came in the front door, downstairs, for ten minutes, but not to visit +Clemm's office. That will keep him away, and he can't possibly guess +who did it." + +"But, look, Bob, he has locked his door with a peculiar key. If you +force it he will be able to tell." + +"I thought he might do as much, Mary. I wouldn't risk tampering with +the lock. Instead, I found an empty room on the floor above. I have a +rope, and I will take the receiver of your father's machine with the +disc, and part of the wiring which I had already cut. There is no fire +escape from the floor above for some reason. He will suspect all the +less, then, for he would not think of anyone coming through the +headquarters on the floor below. I will go down hand over hand, you +shove the wire under the door to me, and I'll attach it. Then I'll go +up the ladder, and we'll let the dictagraph do its work." + +Thus it was accomplished. Mary covered the machine and its wiring in +the outer office, although several times she had to quit at inopportune +times to answer the telephone, or make a connection. + +Burke, from the room above, climbed down hurriedly, adjusted the +instrument as he had been told to do by John Barton. Then he was out, +barely drawing himself and the rope away from the window view before +Trubus entered. + +Mary thought that it was all discovered, but breathed a sigh of relief +when the president opened the door and entered without a remark. + +It was lucky for Burke that the day was so warm, for the president had +left the window open when he left, otherwise Burke could not possibly +have carried out his plan so opportunely. + +The telephone bell rang. Mary answered and was greeted by Bob's voice. + +"Is it you, Mary?" he exclaimed hurriedly. + +"Yes." + +"Then start your machine, for I saw this man Shepard go upstairs to the +floor beneath you." + +"All right, Bob," said Mary softly. + +"When the records are run out, unless I telephone you sooner, call one +of the girls to take your place, tell her you are sick, and smuggle out +the records--don't bother about the machine, we'll get that later. I +will be downstairs waiting for you." + +"Yes. I understand." + +The time dragged horribly, but at last the hour had passed, and Mary +wrapped up the precious wax cylinders and hurried downstairs. + +Bob was pacing up and down anxiously. + +"Shepard has eluded me. I was afraid to leave you, and he took an +auto, and disappeared over toward the East Side. I have telephoned +Captain Sawyer to have a phonograph ready for us. Come, we'll get over +to the station at once. I hope your records give us the clue. If they +don't, I'm afraid the trail is lost." + +They hurried to the station house. In the private office of the +Captain they found that officer waiting with eagerness. + +"What's it all about, Bob?" he cried. "Why this phonograph?" + +"It will explain itself, Captain," answered 4434. "Let's fix these +records in the regular way, and then we will run them in order." + +They did so in absolute silence. The Captain listened, first in +bewilderment, then in great excitement. + +"Great snakes! Where did you get those? That is a conversation +between a bunch of traffickers. Listen, they are buying and selling, +making reports and laying out their work for the night." + +"Sssh!" cautioned Bob. "There's something important we want to get." + +Suddenly Mary gripped his hand. + +"That's Shepard's voice. I'd never forget it." + +They listened. The man told of the condition of Lorna, mentioning her +by name now. She had returned to consciousness, and was detained in +the room of a house not five blocks from the police station. + +"I'll break her spirit now. None of this stage talk any more, Clemm," +droned the voice in the phonograph. "When I get my whip going she'll +be glad enough to put on the silk dresses. She screamed and cried a +while ago, but I'm used to that sort of guff." + +"Don't mark her up with the whip, Shepard. That's a weakness of yours, +and makes us lose money. Go over now and get her ready for to-night. +They want a girl like her for a party up-town to-night. Get her +scared, and then slip a little cocaine,--that eases 'em up. Then some +champagne, and it will be easy." + +Mary began to sob. Burke held her hand in his firm manner. + +"Don't cry, little girl, we'll attend to her. Captain Sawyer, this is +a record of a conversation we took on a new machine in the offices of +the Purity League. It connects with the 'Mercantile' office +downstairs, which is a headquarters for the white slave business. Now +we know the address of the house where this young girl is kept. Can I +have the reserves to help me raid it?" + +"Ah, can you? Why, you will lead it my boy. Run out and order four +machines from that garage next door. We'll be there in two minutes." + +The reserves were summoned from their lounging room with such speed +that Mary was bewildered. + +"Oh, may I go along?" she begged. "I want to be the first to greet my +little sister." + +"Yes!" cried Sawyer. "All out now, boys. We'll work this on time. I +know the house. It has a big back yard, and a fire-escape in the rear. +Half you fellows follow the sergeant, and go to the front--but stay +down by the corner until exactly four-thirty. Then break into the +front door with axes. The other half--you men in that second file" +(they were lined up with military precision in the big room of the +station house)--"go with Bob Burke. I want you to go up over the roof. +Use your night sticks if there is any gun play, shoot--but not to kill, +for we want to send these men to prison." + +They started off. Mary's heart fluttered with excitement, with hope. +There was something so reassuring about the husky manhood of these +blue-coats and the nonchalance and even delight with which they faced +the dangers before them. + +"Can I go in with them?" she cried eagerly. + +"No, young lady, you stay with the sergeant, and sit in the automobile +when the men leave it. You're apt to get shot, and we want you to take +care of your sister." + +They were off on the race to save Lorna! + +Now the machines sped down the street. They separated at one +thoroughfare, and the men with Burke went down another street to +approach the house from the rear. This they did, quietly but rapidly, +through the basement of an old house whose frightened tenants feared +that they were to be arrested and lynched on the spot, to judge from +their terror. + +"Keep quiet," said Burke, "and don't look out of the windows, or we +will arrest you." + +Burke and his men peered at the building which was the object of their +attack. The fire escape came only down to the second story. + +"Well, you fellows will have to give me a boost, and I'll jump for the +lower rungs. Then toss up one more man and I'll catch his hand. We +can go up together. You watch the doors." + +At exactly four thirty they dashed across the yard, scrambled over the +fence, and like Zouaves in an exhibition drill, tossed Burke up to the +lowest iron bar of the fire escape. He failed the first time. He +tumbled back upon them. The second time was successful. Patrolman +White was given a lift and Burke helped to pull him upon the +fire-escape. + +"Up, now, White! We will be behind the other fellows in the front!" + +They lost not a second. It was an ape-like climb, but the two trained +athletes made it in surprising time. + +As they reached the top of the building a man scrambled out of the trap +which led from the skylight. + +"Grab him," yelled Burke. + +White did so. This was prisoner number one. + +Down the ladder, through the opening Burke went and found himself in a +dingy garret, at the top of a rickety stair-case. He heard screams. +He descended the steps half a floor and peering from the angle, through +the transom of a room which led from the hall, he saw a fat old woman +standing with her hands on her hips, laughing merrily, while Shepard +was swinging a whip upon the shoulders of a screaming girl. Her +clothes were half torn from her back, and the whip left a red welt each +time it struck. + +Downstairs Burke heard the crashing of breaking doors. The raid was +progressing rapidly. Burke dashed down to the floor level and flung +himself upon the locked door. The first lunge cracked the lock. The +second swung the door back on its hinges. + +He half fell into the room. + +As he did so Lorna Barton saw him and in a flash of recognition, +screamed: "Oh, save me, Mr. Burke!" + +She staggered forward, and Shepard missed his aim, striking the fat +woman who squealed with pain. + +"I've got _you_ now!" cried Burke, rushing for the ruffian with his +stick. + +"No, you haven't!" hissed Shepard, a fighting animal to the last. He +had whipped out a magazine gun from his coat pocket, and began firing +point-blank. Burke threw his stick at the man, but it went wild. + +His own revolver was out now, and he sent a bullet into the fellow's +shoulder. + +Shepard's left arm dropped limply. He dashed toward the door and +forced his way past, firing wildly at such close range that it almost +burst the gallant policeman's ear drums. + +Up the ladder he scurried like a wild animal, firing as he climbed. + +Burke was right behind him. + +Shepard ran for the fire-escape. Burke was after him. Each man was +wasting bullets. But as Shepard reached the edge of the roof Burke +took the most deliberate aim of his life, and sent a bullet into the +villain's breast. + +Shepard gasped, his hands went up, and he toppled over the cornice to +the back yard below. + +He died as he had lived, with a curse on his lip, murder in his heart, +and battling like a beast! + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE FINISH + +Burke rushed down the dilapidated steps once more to the room where +Lorna had undergone her bitter punishment. Already three bluecoats had +entered in time to capture the frantic old woman, while they worked to +bring the miserable girl back to consciousness. + +"She's coming around all right, Burke," said the sergeant. "Help me +carry her downstairs." + +"I'll do that myself," quoth Bobbie, feeling that the privilege of +restoring her to Mary had been rightfully earned. He picked her up and +tenderly lifted her from the couch where she had been placed by the +sergeant. Down the stairs they went with their prisoner, while +Patrolman White descended from the roof with his captive, whose hands +had been shackled behind his back. + +The house had the appearance of a cheap lodging place, and the dirty +carpet of the hall showed hard usage. As they reached the lower floor +Bobbie noticed Captain Sawyer rummaging through an imitation mahogany +desk in the converted parlor, a room furnished much after the fashion +of the bedroom of Madame Blanche in the house uptown. + +"What sort of place is it? A headquarters for the gang?" asked Bobbie, +as he hesitated with Lorna in his arms. + +"No, just the same kind of joint we've raided so many times, and we've +got hundreds more to raid," answered Sawyer. "I've found the receipts +for the rent here, and they've been paying about five times what it is +worth. The man who owns this house is your friend Trubus. This links +him up once more. There's a lot of information in this desk. But +hurry with the girl, Bobbie, for her sister is nearly wild." + +As Burke marched down the steps, carrying the rescued one, a big crowd +of jostling spectators raised a howl of "bravos" for the gallant +bluecoat. The nature of this evil establishment was well enough known +in the neighborhood, but people of that part of town knew well enough +to keep their information from the police, for the integrity of their +own skins. + +Mary had been kept inside the automobile with difficulty; now she +screamed with joy and sprang from the step to the street. Up the stone +stairs she rushed, throwing her arms about Lorna, who greeted her with +a wan smile; she had strength for no more evidence of recognition. + +"Here, chief," said the chauffeur of the hired car to Burke, "I always +have this handy in my machine. Give the lady a drink--it'll help her." + +He had drawn forth a brandy flask, and Burke quickly unscrewed the +cup-cap, to pour out a libation. + +"Oh, no!" moaned Lorna, objecting weakly, but Burke forced it between +her teeth. The burning liquid roused her energies and, with Mary's +assistance, she was able to sit up in the rear of the auto. + +"Take another, lady," volunteered the chauffeur. "It'll do you good." + +"Never. I've tasted the last liquor that shall ever pass my lips," +said Lorna. "Oh, Mary, what a horrible lesson I've learned!" + +Her sister comforted her, and turned toward Burke pleadingly. + +"Can I take her home, Bob? You know how anxious father is?" + +Captain Sawyer had come to the side of the automobile. He nodded. + +"Yes, Miss Barton, the chauffeur will take her right up to your house. +Give her some medical attention at once, and be ready to come back with +her to the station house as soon as I send for you. I'm going to get +the ringleader of this gang in my net before the day is through. So +your sister should be here if she is strong enough to press the first +complaint. I'll attend to the others, with the Federal Government and +those phonograph records back of me! Hurry up, now." + +He turned to his sergeant. + +"Put these prisoners in the other automobile and call out the men to +clear this mob away from the streets. Keep the house watched by one +man outside and one in the rear. We don't know what might be done to +destroy some of this evidence." + +The automobile containing the two girls started on the glad homeward +journey at the Captain's signal. Bobbie waved his hat and the happy +tears coursed down his face. + +"Well, Captain, I've got to face a serious investigation now," he said +to his superior as they went up the steps once more. + +"What is it?" exclaimed Sawyer in surprise, "You'll be a medal of honor +man, my boy." + +"I've killed a man." + +"You have! Well, tell me about your end of the raid. All this has +happened so quickly that we must get the report ready right here on the +spot, in order to have it exact." + +"This man Shepard, who seems to be the professional whipper of this +gang, as well as a procurer, fought me with a magazine revolver. I ran +him up to the roof, and I had to shoot him or be killed myself. That +means a trial, I know. You'll find his body back of the house, for he +fell off the roof at the end." + +"Self-defense and carrying out the law will cover you, my boy. Don't +worry about that. This city has been kept terror-stricken by these +gangsters long enough, because honest citizens have been compelled by a +ward politician's law to go without weapons of defense. A man is not +allowed to have a revolver in his own home without paying ten dollars a +year as a license fee. But a crook can carry an arsenal; I've always +had a sneaking opinion that there were two sides to the reasons for +that law. Then the city officials have given the public the idea that +the police were brutes, and have reprimanded us for using force with +these murderers and robbers. Force is the only thing that will tame +these beasts of the jungle. You can't do it with kisses and boxes of +candy!" + +Burke was rubbing his left forearm. + +"By Jingo! I believe I hurt myself." + +He rolled up his sleeve, and saw a furrow of red in his muscular +forearm. It was bleeding, but as he wiped it with his handkerchief he +was relieved to find that it was a mere flesh wound. + +"If Shepard had hit the right instead of the left--I would have been +left in the discard," he said, with grim humor. "Can you help me tie +it up for now. This means another scolding from Doctor MacFarland, I +suppose." + +"It means that you've more evidence of the need for putting a tiger out +of danger!" + +The coroner was called, and the statements of the policemen were made. +The Captain, with Burke and several men, deployed through the back yard +to the other house, leaving the grewsome duty of removing the body to +the coroner. The two waiting automobiles on the rear street were +crowded with policemen, as Sawyer ordered the chauffeur to drive +speedily to the headquarters of the Purity League. + +"We must clean out that hole, as we did this one!" muttered Sawyer. +"You go for Trubus, Burke, with one of the men, while I will take the +rest and close in on their 'Mercantile' office downstairs. We'll put +that slave market out of business in three minutes." + +They were soon on Fifth Avenue. The elevators carried the policemen up +to the third floor, and they sprang into the offices of the "Mercantile +Association" with little ado. + +The small, wan man who sat at the desk was just in the act of sniffing +a cheering potion of cocaine as the head of Captain Sawyer appeared +through the door. With a quick movement the lookout pressed two +buttons. One of them resulted in a metallic click in the door of the +strong iron grating. The other rang a warning bell inside the private +office of John Clemm. + +Sawyer pushed and shoved at the grilled barrier, but it was safely +locked with a strong, secret bolt. + +"Open this, or I'll shoot!" exclaimed the irate Captain. + +"You can't get in there. We're a lawful business concern," replied the +little man, squirming toward the door which led to the big waiting +room. "Where's your search warrant. I know the law, and you police +can't fool me." + +"This is my search warrant!" exclaimed Sawyer, as he sent a bullet +crashing into the wall, purposely aiming a foot above the lookout's +head. "Quick, open this door. The next shot won't miss!" + +There was a sound of overturned chairs and cries of alarm inside the +door. The little man felt that he had sounded his warning and lived up +to his duty. Had he completed that sniffing of the "koke," he would +doubtless have been stimulated to enough pseudo-courage to face the +entire Police Department single-handed--as long as the thrill of the +drug lasted. A majority of the desperate deeds performed by the +criminals in New York, so medical examinations have proved, are carried +on under the stimulus of this fearful poison, which can be obtained +with comparative ease throughout the city. + +But the lookout was deprived of his drug. He even endeavored to take a +sniff as the captain and his men shoved and shook the iron work of the +grating. + +"Drop it!" cried Sawyer, pulling the trigger again and burying another +bullet in the plaster. + +"Oh, oh! Don't shoot!" cried the lookout weakly. He trembled as he +advanced to the grating and removed the emergency bolt. + +"Grab him!" cried Sawyer to one of his men. "Come with me, fellows." +He rushed into the waiting room. There consternation reigned. Fully a +dozen pensioners of the "system" of traffic in souls were struggling to +escape through the barred windows in the rear. These bars had been +placed as they were to resist the invaders from the outside. John +Clemm's system of defense was extremely ingenious. In time of trouble +he had not deemed the inmates of the middle room worth protecting--his +purpose was to exclude with the iron grating and the barred windows the +possible entry of raiders. + +Three revolvers were on the floor. Their owners had wisely discarded +them to avoid the penalty of the concealed weapon law, for they had +realized that they were trapped. + +"Open that door!" cried Sawyer, who had learned the arrangement of the +rooms from Burke's description. + +Two men pushed at the door, which was securely locked. They finally +caught up the nearest church pew, and, using it as a battering ram, +they succeeded in smashing the heavy oaken panels. The door had been +barricaded with a cross bar. As they cautiously peered in through the +forced opening they saw the room empty and the window open. + +"He's escaped!" exclaimed Sawyer. + +Just then a call from the outer vestibule reached his ears. + +"I've caught the go-between, Captain. Here's Mr. John Clemm, the +executive genius of this establishment," sung out Burke, who was +standing inside the door with the rueful fat man wearing the handcuffs. + +"Where did you get him, Burke?" + +"He tried to make a quiet getaway through the rescue department of the +Purity League," answered Officer 4434. "I nabbed him as he came up the +fire-escape from this floor." + +"Where is Trubus?" + +"He has gone home, so one of the stenographers tells me." + +"Then we will get him, too. Hurry now. White, I leave you in charge +of this place. Send for the wagon and take these men over to our +station house. Get every bit of paper and the records. We had better +look around in that private office first before we go after Trubus." + +They finished the demolition of the door and entered. + +"What's this arrangement?" queried Sawyer, puzzled, as he looked at the +automatic pencil box. + +"That is an arrangement by which this fellow Clemm has been making +duplicates of all his transactions in his own writing," explained +Burke. "You see this Trubus has trusted no one. He has a definite +record of every deal spread out before him by the other pencil on the +machine upstairs, just as this go-between writes it out. Then here is +the dictagraph, under the desk." + +Burke pointed out the small transmitting disc to the surprised captain. + +"Well, this man learned a lot from the detectives and applied it to his +trade very scientifically, didn't he?" + +"Yes, the records we have on the phonograph show that every word which +passed in this room was received upstairs by Trubus. No one but Clemm +knew of his connection or ownership of the establishment. Yet Trubus, +all the time that he was posing as the guardian angel of virtue, has +been familiar with the work of every procurer and every purchaser; it's +a wonderful system. If he had spent as much energy on doing the +charitable work that he pretended to do, think of how much misery and +sickness he could have cured." + +"Well, Burke, it's the same game that a lot of politicians on the East +Side do. They own big interests and the gambling privileges in the +saloons, and they get their graft from the gangsters. Then about twice +a year they give a picnic for the mothers and babies of the drunkards +who patronize their saloons. They send a ticket for a bucket of coal +or a pair of shoes to the parents of young girls who work for the +gangsters and bring the profits of shame back tenfold on the investment +to these same politicians. They will spend a hundred dollars on +charity and the newspapers will run columns about it. But the poor +devils who cheer them and vote for them don't realize that every dollar +of graft comes, not out of the pockets of property owners and +employers, but from reduced wages, increased rents, and expensive, +rotten food. Trubus would have been a great Alderman or State Senator: +he wasted his talents on religion." + +Burke turned to the door. + +"Shall I go up to his house, Captain? I'd like to be in at the finish +of this whole fight." + +"You bet you can," said Sawyer. "It's now nearly six o'clock, and we +will jump into the machine and get up there before he can get out to +supper. The men will take care of these prisoners." + +After a few skillful orders, Sawyer led the way downstairs. They were +soon speeding up to the Riverside Drive residence of the +philanthropist, Sawyer and Burke enjoying the machine to themselves. + +"This is a joy ride that will not be so joyful for one man on the +return trip, Burke!" exclaimed Sawyer, as he took off his cap to mop +the perspiration from his brow. He had been through a strenuous +afternoon and was beginning to feel the strain. + +"How shall we approach his house?" asked Burke. + +"You get out of the machine and go to the door. There's no need of +alarming his family. Just tell the servant who answers the door that +you want to speak to the boss--say that there's been a robbery down at +his office, and you want to speak to him privately. Tell the servant +not to let the other members of the family know about it, as it would +worry them." + +"That's a good idea, Captain. I understand that his wife and daughter +are very fine women. It will save a terrible scene. What a shame to +make them suffer like this!" + +"Yes, Burke. If these scoundrels only realized that their work always +made some good woman suffer--sometimes a hundred. Think of the women +that this villain has made to suffer, body and soul. Think of the +mothers' hearts he has broken while posing with his charity and his +Bible! All that wickedness is to be punished on his own wife and his +own daughter. I tell you, there's something in life which brings back +the sins of the fathers, all right, upon their children. The Good Book +certainly tells it right." + +The auto was stopped before the handsome residence of the Purity +League's leader. It seemed a bitter tangle of Fate that in these +beautiful surroundings, with the broad blue Hudson River a few hundred +yards away, the green of the park trees, the happy throng of +pedestrians strolling and chatting along the promenade of the Drive, it +should be Burke's duty to drag to punishment as foul a scoundrel as +ever drew the breath of the beautiful spring air. The sun was setting +in the heights of Jersey, across the Hudson, and the golden light +tinted the carved stone doorway of Trubus's home, making Burke feel as +though he were acting in some stage drama, rather than real life. The +spotlight of Old Sol was on him as he rang the bell by the entry. + +"Is Mr. Trubus home?" asked Burke of the portly butler who answered the +summons. + +"Hi don't know, sir," responded the servant, in a conventional +monotone. "What nyme, sir?" + +"Just tell him that it is a policeman. His office has been robbed, and +we want to get some particulars about it." + +"Well, sir, he's dressing for dinner, sir. You'll 'ave to wyte, sir. +Hi wouldn't dare disturb 'im now, sir." + +"You had better dare. This is very important to him. But don't +mention it to anyone else, for it would worry his wife and daughter." + +As Burke was speaking, a big fashionable car drew up behind the one in +which Captain Sawyer sat, awaiting developments. A young man, wearing +a light overcoat, whose open fold displayed a dinner coat, descended +and approached the door. + +"What's the trouble here?" he curtly inquired. + +"None of your business," snapped Burke, who recognized the fiancé, +Ralph Gresham. + +"Don't you sauce me--I'll find out myself." + +The butler bowed as Gresham approached. + +"Come in, sir. Miss Trubus is hexpecting you, sir. This person is +wyting to see Mr. Trubus, sir." + +Gresham, with an angry look at the calm policeman, went inside. + +The door shut. Burke for a minute regretted that he had not insisted +on admission. It might have been possible for Trubus to have received +some sort of warning. The "best-laid plans of mice and men" had one +bad habit, as Burke recollected, just at the moment when success was +apparently within grasp. + +But the door opened again. The smug countenance, the neatly brushed +"mutton-chops," the immaculate dinner coat of William Trubus appeared, +and Bobbie looked up into the angry glint of the gentleman's black eyes. + +"What do you mean by annoying me here? Why didn't you telephone me?" +began the owner of the mansion. "I am just going out to dinner." + +He looked sharply at Burke, vaguely remembering the face of the young +officer. Bobbie quietly stepped to his side and caught the knob of the +big door, shutting it softly behind Trubus. + +"Why, you...." + +Before he could finish Burke had deftly clipped one handcuff on the +right wrist of the man and with an unexpected movement pinioned the +other, snapping the manacle as he did so. + +"Outrageous!" exclaimed the astounded Trubus. But Burke was dragging +him rapidly into the car. + +"If you don't want your wife to know about this, get in quickly," +commanded Sawyer sharply. + +Trubus began to expostulate, but his thick lips quivered with emotion. + +"Down to the station house, quick!" ordered the captain to the +chauffeur. "No speed limit." + +"I'll have you discharged from the force for this, you scoundrel!" +Trubus finally found words to say. "Where is your warrant for my +arrest? What is your charge?" + +Sawyer did not answer. + +As they reached a subway station he called out to the driver: + +"Stop a minute. Now, Burke, you had better go uptown and get the +witness; hurry right down, for I want to end this matter to-night." + +Bobbie dismounted, while Trubus stormed in vain. As the car sped +onward he saw the president of the Purity League indulging in language +quite alien to the Scriptural quotations which were his usual stock in +discourse. Captain Sawyer was puffing a cigar and watching the throng +on the sidewalks as though he were stone deaf. + +Burke hurried to the Barton home. There he found a scene of joy which +beggared description. Lorna had recovered and was strong enough to run +to greet him. + +"Oh, Mr. Burke, can you ever forgive me for my silliness and ugly +words?" she began, as Mary caught the officer's hand with a welcome +clasp. + +"There, there, Miss Lorna, I've nothing to forgive. I'm so happy that +you have come out safe and sound from the dangers of these men," +answered Burke. "We have trapped the gang, even up to Trubus, and, if +you are strong enough to go down to the station, we will have him sent +with the rest of his crew to the Tombs to await trial." + +Old Barton reached for Burke's hand. + +"My boy, you have been more than a friend to me on this terrible yet +wonderful day. You could have done no more if you had been my own son." + +The excitement and his own tense nerves drove Bobbie to a speech which +he had been pondering and hesitating to make for several weeks. He +blurted it out now, intensely surprised at his own temerity. + +"Your own son, Mr. Barton.... Oh, how I wish I were.... And I hope +that I may be some day, if you and some one else are willing ... some +day when I have saved enough to provide the right sort of a home." + +He hesitated, and Lorna stepped back. Mary held out her hands, and her +eyes glowed with that glorious dilation which only comes once in a +life-time to one woman's glance for only one man's answering look. + +She held out her hands as she approached him. + +"Oh, Bob ... as though you had to ask!" was all she said, as the strong +arms caught her in their first embrace. Her face was wet with tears as +Bob drew back from their first kiss. + +John Barton was wiping his eyes as Burke looked at him in happy +bewilderment at this curious turn to his fortune. + +"My boy, Bob," began the old man softly, "would you take the +responsibility of a wife, earning no more money than a policeman can?" + +Bob nodded. "I'd do it and give up everything in the world to make her +happy if it were enough to satisfy her," he asserted. + +Barton lifted up a letter which had been lying on the table beside him. +He smiled as he read from it: + + +"DEAR MR. BARTON: + +"The patents have gone through in great shape and they are so basic +that no one can fight you on them. The Gresham Company has offered me, +as your attorney, fifty thousand dollars as an advance royalty, and a +contract for your salary as superintendent for their manufacture. We +can get even more. It may interest you to know that your friend on the +police force won't have to worry about a raise in salary. I have been +working on his case with a lawyer in Decatur, Illinois. His uncle is +willing to make a payment of twenty-four thousand dollars to prevent +being prosecuted for misappropriation of funds on that estate. I will +see you...." + + +Barton dropped the letter to his lap. + +"Now, how does that news strike you?" + +"I can't believe it real," gasped Burke, rubbing his forehead. "But I +am more glad for you than for myself. You will have an immense +fortune, won't you?" + +Smiling into the faces of the two radiant girls, Old Barton drew Lorna +to his side and, reaching forward, tugged at the hand of Mary. + +"In my two dear girls, safe and happy, I have a greater wealth for my +old age than the National City Bank could pay me, Burke. Lorna has +told me of her experience and her escape when all escape seemed +hopeless. She has learned that the sensual pleasures of one side of +New York's glittering life are dross and death. In the books and silly +plays she has read and seen it was pictured as being all song and +jollity. Now she knows how sordid and bitter is the draught which can +only end, like all poison, in one thing. God bless you, my boy, and +you, my girls!" + +Bobbie shook the old man's hand, and then remembered the unpleasant +duty still before him. + +"We must get down town as soon as possible," syd he. "Come, won't you +go with us, Mary?" + +The two girls put on their hats and together they traveled to the +distant police station as rapidly as possible. It was a bitter ordeal +for Lorna, whose strength was nearly exhausted. The welts on her +shoulders from Shepard's whip brought the tears to her eyes. As they +reached the station house the girl became faint. The matron and Mary +had to chafe her hands and apply other homely remedies to keep her up +for the task of identifying the woman who had been captured. + +"Now, Burke," began Sawyer, "I have been saving Trubus for a surprise. +He has been locked up in my private office, and still doesn't know +exactly how we have caught him. I've broken the letter of the rules by +forbidding him to telephone anyone until you came. I guess it is +important enough, in view of our discovery, for me to have done +this--he can call up his lawyer as soon as we have confronted him with +Clemm and this young girl. Bring me the phonograph records." + +They went into his private office, where White was guarding Trubus. + +"How much longer am I to be subject to these Russian police methods?" +demanded Trubus, with an oath. + +"Quiet, now, Mr. Purity League," said Sawyer, "we are going to have +ladies present. You will soon be allowed to talk all you want. But I +warn you in advance that everything you say will be used as evidence +against you." + +"Against me--me, the leading charity worker of our city!" snorted +Trubus, but he watched the door uneasily. + +"Bring in the young ladies, Burke," directed Captain Sawyer. + +Bobbie returned with Mary and Lorna. Trubus started perceptibly as he +observed the new telephone girl whom his wife had induced him to employ +that day. + +Sawyer nodded again to Burke. + +"Now the go-between." He turned to Mary. "Do you know this man, Miss +Barton?" + +The name had a strangely familiar sound to Trubus. He wondered +uneasily. + +"He is William Trubus, president of the Purity League. I worked for +him to-day." + +"Do you recognize this man?" was queried, as Clemm shuffled forward, +with the assistance of Burke's sturdy push. + +"This is the one who was embracing the other telephone girl. But he +did not stay there long. I never saw him before that, to my +recollection." + +"What do you know about this man, Officer 4434?" asked the captain. +Clemm fumbled with his handcuffs, looking down in a sheepish way to +avoid the malevolent looks of Trubus. + +"He is known as John Clemm, although we have found a police record of +him under a dozen different aliases. He formerly ran a gambling house, +and at different times has been involved in bunco game and wire-tapping +tricks. He is one of the cleverest crooks in New York. In the present +case he has been the go-between for this man Trubus, who, posing as a +reformer to cover his activities, has kept in touch with the work of +the Vice Trust, managed by Clemm. They had a dictagraph and a +mechanical pencil register which connected Trubus's office with +Clemm's." + +"It's a lie!" shouted Trubus, furiously. "Some of these degraded +criminals are drawing my famous and honored name into this case to +protect themselves. It is a police scheme for notoriety." + +"You'll get the notoriety," retorted Sawyer. "There is a young man who +is taking notes for the biggest paper in New York. He has verified +every detail. They'll have extras on the streets in fifteen minutes, +for this is the biggest story in years. You are cornered at last, +Trubus. Send in the rest of those people arrested in that house owned +by Trubus." The woman was brought in with the others of the gang who +had been apprehended in the old house. + +[Illustration: The pretended philanthropist was cornered at last.] + +"Now, Mr. Trubus, this woman rented from you and paid a very high +rental. The man Shepard was killed in resisting arrest. We have +rounded up Baxter, Craig, Madame Blanche and a dozen others of your +employees. Have you anything to say?" + +Trubus whirled around and would have struck Clemm had not White +intervened. + +"You squealer! You've betrayed me!" + +"No, I didn't!" cried Clemm, shrinking back. "I swear I didn't!" + +Sawyer reached for the phonograph records and held them up with a +laconic smile. + +"There's no use in accusing anyone else, Trubus. You're your own worst +enemy, for these records, with your own dictagraph as the chief +assistant prosecutor, have trapped you." + +Trubus raised his hands in terror and his iron nerve gave way +completely. + +"Oh, my God!" he cried. "What will my wife and daughter think?" + +"You should have figured that out when you started all this," retorted +Sawyer. "Take them into the cells, and we'll have them arraigned at +Night Court. Make out the full reports now, men." + +The prisoners were led out. + +Trubus turned and begged with Sawyer for a little time. + +"Let me tell my wife," he pleaded. "I don't want any one else to do +it." + +"You stay just where you are, until I am through with you. You're +getting war methods now, Trubus--after waging war from ambush for all +this time. Burke, you had better have the young ladies taken home. Go +up with them. Use the automobile outside. You can have the evening +off as soon as we get through the arraignment at court." + +It took an hour before the first charges could be brought to the +Magistrate, through whose hands all cases must first be carried. The +sisters decided to stay and end their first ordeal with what testimony +was desired. This was sufficient for the starting of the wheels of +justice. Trubus had called up his lawyer, who was on hand with the +usual objections and instructions. But he was held over until the day +court, without bail. + +"Only let me go home, and break the news to my wife and daughter," +begged the subdued man. "Oh, I beg that one privilege." + +The judge looked at Captain Sawyer, who nodded. + +"I will send a couple of men up with him, your honor. I understand his +wife is a very estimable lady. It will be a bitter blow to her." + +"All right. You will have to go in the custody of the police. But I +will not release you on bail." + +Bobbie and the girls had already sped on their way to the happy Barton +home. Trubus, under the watchful eyes of two policemen and with his +lawyer, lost no time in returning to his mansion. + +As he rang the bell the butler hurried to the door in a frightened +manner. + +"It can't be true, sir, wot the pypers say, can it?" he gasped. But +Trubus forced his way past, followed by the attorney and his two guards. + +In the beautiful drawing-room he saw two maids leaning over the +Oriental couch. They were trying to quiet his daughter. + +"Why, Sylvia, my child," he cried. + +"Oh, oh!" exclaimed the girl, forcing herself free from the restraining +hands of the servants. She laughed shrilly as she staggered toward her +father. Her eyes were wide and staring with the light of madness. +"Here's father! Dear father!" + +Trubus paled, but caught her in his arms. + +"My poor dear," he began. + +"Oh, look, father, what it says in the papers. We missed you--ha, +ha!--and the newsboys sold us this on the street. Look, father, +there's your picture. He, he! And Ralph bought it and brought it to +me." + +She staggered and sank half-drooping in his arms. Her head rolled back +and her eyes stared wildly at the ceiling. Her mad laughter rang out +shrilly, piercing the ears of her miserable father. The two policemen +and the lawyer watched the uncanny scene. + +"Ha, ha! Ralph read it, and he's gone. He wouldn't marry me now, he +said,--ha, ha! Father! Who cares? Oh, it's so funny!" She broke +from her father's hold and ran into the big dining room, pursued by the +sobbing maids. + +"She's gone crazy as a loon," whispered one of the policemen to the +other. + +"Where is my wife?" timidly asked Trubus, as he supported himself with +one hand on a table near the door. The frightened butler, with +choleric red face, pointed upward. + +Trubus drew himself up and started for the broad stairway. + +Just then a revolver shot smote the ears of the excited men. It came +from above. + +"Great God!" uttered Trubus, clasping his hand to his heart. He ran +for the stairs, followed by the two patrolmen, while the lawyer sank +weakly into a chair and buried his face in his hands. He guessed only +too well what had happened. + +The policemen were slower than the panic-stricken Trubus. + +They found him in his magnificent boudoir, kneeling and sobbing by the +side of his dead wife; a revolver had fallen to the floor from her limp +hand. It was still smoking. The exquisite lace coverlet was even now +drinking up the red stains, and the bluecoats stopped at the doorway, +dropping their heads as they instinctively doffed their caps. + +Gruff Roundsman Murphy crossed himself, while White wiped his eyes with +the back of his hand. He remembered a verse from the old days when he +went to Sunday-school in the Jersey town where he was born. + +"'Vengeance is mine,' saith the Lord." + + * * * * * + +The blossoms of late May were tinting the greensward beneath the trees +of Central Park as Bobbie Burke and Mary strolled along one of the +winding paths. They had just walked up the Avenue from their last +shopping expedition. + +"I hated to bid the boys at the station house good-bye this afternoon, +Mary. Yet after to-night we'll be away from New York for a wonderful +month in the country. And then no more police duty, is there?" + +"No, Bob. You and father will be the busiest partners in New York and +you will have to report for duty at our new little apartment every +evening before six. I'm so glad that you can leave all those dangers, +and gladder still because of my own selfish gratifications. After +to-night." + +"Well, I'm scared of to-night more than I was of that police parade on +May Day, with all that fuss about the medal. Here I've got to face a +minister, and you know that's not as easy as it seems." + +They reached the new home which the advance royalties for old Barton's +days of realization had made possible. It was a handsome apartment on +Central Park West, and the weeks of preparation had turned it into a +wonderful bower for this night of nights. + +"Look, Mary," cried Lorna, as they came in. "Here are two more +presents. One must weigh a ton and the other is in this funny old +bandbox." + +They opened the big bundle first; it was a silver service of elaborate, +ornate design. It had cost hundreds of dollars. + +On a long paper Bobbie saw the names of a hundred men, all familiar and +memory-stirring. The list was headed with the simple dedication in the +full, round hand which Burke recognized as that of Captain Sawyer: + + +"To the Prince of all the Rookies and his Princess, from his brother +cops. God bless you, Bobbie Burke, and Mrs. Bobbie." + + +Ex-officer 4434 Burke blinked and hugged his happy fiancée delightedly. + +"What's in that old bandbox, Bob?" asked Lorna. "It's marked +'Glass--Handle with care.' I wonder how it ever held together. Some +country fellow left it at the door this afternoon, but wouldn't come +in." + +They opened it, and Mary gasped. + +"Why, look at the flowers!" + +The box seemed full of old-fashioned country blossoms, as Mary dipped +her hand into it. Then she deftly reached to the bottom of the big +bandbox and lifted its contents. Wrapped in a sheathing of oiled +tissue paper was a monstrous cake, layer on layer, like a Chinese +pagoda. It was covered with that rustic triumph of multi-colored icing +which only grandmothers seem able to compound in these degenerate days +of machine-made pastry of the city bakeries. + +A wedding ring of yellow icing was molded in the center, while on +either side were red candy hearts, joined by whirly sugar streamers of +pink and blue. + +A card pinned in the center said: + +"From Henrietta and Joe." + +"That's all we needed," said Mary with a sob in her happy voice, "to +make our wedding supper end right. Wasn't it, Officer 4434?" + + + + +THE END + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Traffic in Souls, by Eustace Hale Ball + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRAFFIC IN SOULS *** + +***** This file should be named 29453-8.txt or 29453-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/4/5/29453/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/29453-8.zip b/29453-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..96bf8ba --- /dev/null +++ b/29453-8.zip diff --git a/29453-h.zip b/29453-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..54b1ff2 --- /dev/null +++ b/29453-h.zip diff --git a/29453-h/29453-h.htm b/29453-h/29453-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..03645f2 --- /dev/null +++ b/29453-h/29453-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11943 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of Traffic in Souls, by Eustace Hale Ball +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: small } + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: small ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +H3.h3left { margin-left: 0%; + margin-right: 1%; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: left ; + clear: left ; + text-align: center } + +H3.h3right { margin-left: 1%; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: right ; + clear: right ; + text-align: center } + +H3.h3center { margin-left: 0; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: none ; + clear: both ; + text-align: center } + +H4.h4left { margin-left: 0%; + margin-right: 1%; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: left ; + clear: left ; + text-align: center } + +H4.h4right { margin-left: 1%; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: right ; + clear: right ; + text-align: center } + +H4.h4center { margin-left: 0; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: none ; + clear: both ; + text-align: center } + +H5.h5left { margin-left: 0%; + margin-right: 1%; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: left ; + clear: left ; + text-align: center } + +H5.h5right { margin-left: 1%; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: right ; + clear: right ; + text-align: center } + +H5.h5center { margin-left: 0; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: none ; + clear: both ; + text-align: center } + +IMG.imgleft { float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-top: 1%; + margin-right: 1%; + padding: 0; + text-align: center } + +IMG.imgright {float: right; + clear: right; + margin-left: 1%; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-top: 1%; + margin-right: 0; + padding: 0; + text-align: center } + +IMG.imgcenter { margin-left: auto; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-top: 1%; + margin-right: auto; } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Traffic in Souls, by Eustace Hale Ball + +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: Traffic in Souls + A Novel of Crime and Its Cure + +Author: Eustace Hale Ball + +Release Date: July 19, 2009 [EBook #29453] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRAFFIC IN SOULS *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<A NAME="img-front"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-front.jpg" ALT="If ever prayer came from the depths of a broken heart, it was that forlorn plea for the lost sister." BORDER="2" WIDTH="421" HEIGHT="669"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 421px"> +If ever prayer came from the depths of a broken heart, it was that forlorn plea for the lost sister. +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +TRAFFIC IN SOULS +</H1> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +<I>A Novel of Crime and Its Cure</I> +</H2> + +<BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +EUSTACE HALE BALL +</H2> + +<BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +<I>ILLUSTRATIONS FROM SCENES<BR> +IN THE PHOTO-PLAY</I><BR> +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY +<BR> +PUBLISHERS —— NEW YORK +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY +<BR> +G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="letter" STYLE="font-size: 80%"> +<I>Traffic in Souls</I> +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter" STYLE="font-size: 80%"> +<I>This novel is based in part upon the scenario of the photo-drama of +the same name written by Walter MacNamara and produced by the UNIVERSAL +FILM MANUFACTURING COMPANY, New York City. The incidents and +characterisations are founded upon stories of real life. Actual scenes +of the underworld haunts are faithfully reproduced. The criminal +methods of the traffickers are substantiated by the reports of the John +D. Rockefeller, Jr., Investigating Committee for the Suppression of +Vice, and District Attorney Whitman's White Slave Report.</I> +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +Press of +<BR> +J. J. Little & Ives Co. +<BR> +New York +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TO<BR> +THAT FEARLESS AMERICAN CITIZEN<BR> +AND STERLING PUBLIC OFFICIAL,<BR> +CHARLES S. WHITMAN,<BR> +DISTRICT ATTORNEY FOR THE BOROUGH<BR> +OF MANHATTAN, IN THE CITY OF NEW YORK,<BR> +THIS BOOK IS ADMIRINGLY DEDICATED.<BR> +E. H. B.<BR> +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"<I>What has man done here? How atone,<BR> +Great God, for this which man has done?<BR> +And for the body and soul which by<BR> +Man's pitiless doom must now comply<BR> +With lifelong hell, what lullaby<BR> +Of sweet forgetful second birth<BR> +Remains? All dark. No sign on earth<BR> +What measure of God's rest endows<BR> +The Many mansions of His house.</I><BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"<I>If but a woman's heart might see<BR> +Such erring heart unerringly<BR> +For once! But that can never be.</I><BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"<I>Like a rose shut in a book<BR> +In which pure women may not look,<BR> +For its base pages claim control<BR> +To crush the flower within the soul;<BR> +Where through each dead roseleaf that clings,<BR> +Pale as transparent psyche-wings,<BR> +To the vile text, are traced such things<BR> +As might make lady's cheek indeed<BR> +More than a living rose to read;<BR> +So nought save foolish foulness may<BR> +Watch with hard eyes the sure decay;<BR> +And so the lifeblood of this rose,<BR> +Puddled with shameful knowledge flows<BR> +Through leaves no chaste hand may unclose;<BR> +Yet still it keeps such faded show<BR> +Of when 'twas gathered long ago,<BR> +That the crushed petals' lovely grain,<BR> +The sweetness of the sanguine stain,<BR> +Seen of a woman's eyes must make<BR> +Her pitiful heart, so prone to ache,<BR> +Love roses better for its sake:—<BR> +Only that this can never be:—<BR> +Even so unto her sex is she!</I><BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"<I>Yet, Jenny, looking long at you,<BR> +The woman almost fades from view.<BR> +A cipher of man's changeless sum<BR> +Of lust, past, present, and to come,<BR> +Is left. A riddle that one shrinks<BR> +To challenge from the scornful sphinx.</I><BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"<I>Like a toad within a stone<BR> +Seated while Time crumbles on;<BR> +Which sits there since the earth was curs'd<BR> +For Man's transgression at the first;<BR> +Which, living through all centuries,<BR> +Not once has seen the sun arise;<BR> +Whose life, to its cold circle charmed,<BR> +The earth's whole summers have not warmed;<BR> +Which always—whitherso the stone<BR> +Be flung—sits there, deaf, blind, alone;—<BR> +Aye, and shall not be driven out<BR> +'Till that which shuts him round about<BR> +Break at the very Master's stroke,<BR> +And the dust thereof vanished as smoke,<BR> +And the seed of Man vanished as dust:—<BR> +Even so within this world is Lust!</I>"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +—From "Jenny," by Dante Gabriel Rosetti.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">CHAPTER</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">NIGHT COURT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">WHEN LOVE COMES VISITING</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">THE TRAIL OF THE SERPENT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">WHAT THE DOCTOR SAID</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">ROSES AND THORNS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">THE WORK OF THE GANGSTERS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">THE CLOSER BOND</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">THE PURITY LEAGUE AND ITS ANGEL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">THE BUSY MART OF TRADE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">WHEN THE TRAIN COMES IN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">THE POISONED NEEDLE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">THE REVENGE OF JIMMIE THE MONK</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">LORNA'S QUEST FOR PLEASURE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">CHARITY AND THE MULTITUDE OF SINS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">THE FINISH</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +ILLUSTRATIONS +</H2> + +<H4 STYLE="margin-left: 10%"> +<A HREF="#img-front"> +If ever prayer came from the depths of a broken heart, it was that<BR> +forlorn plea for a lost sister . . . . . . <I>Frontispiece</I> +</A> +</H4> + +<H4 STYLE="margin-left: 10%"> +<A HREF="#img-108"> +"This is my friend, Sam Shepard, the theatrical manager, Miss Lorna.<BR> +He's the man who can get you on the stage" +</A> +</H4> + +<H4 STYLE="margin-left: 10%"> +<A HREF="#img-196"> +"I'm going to shoot to kill. Every court in the state will sustain a +policeman<BR> who shoots a white-slaver" +</A> +</H4> + +<H4 STYLE="margin-left: 10%"> +<A HREF="#img-227"> +The deep tones of the stranger's voice filled Mary with a thrill of +loathing +</A> +</H4> + +<H4 STYLE="margin-left: 10%"> +<A HREF="#img-233"> +Father and daughter were frantic with grief +</A> +</H4> + +<H4 STYLE="margin-left: 10%"> +<A HREF="#img-282"> +The pretended philanthropist was cornered at last +</A> +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +TRAFFIC IN SOULS +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +NIGHT COURT +</H4> + +<P> +Officer 4434 beat his freezing hands together as he stood with his back +to the snow-laden north-easter, which rattled the creaking signboards +of East Twelfth Street, and covered, with its merciful shroud of wet +flakes, the ash-barrels, dingy stoops, gaudy saloon porticos and other +architectural beauties of the Avenue corner. +</P> + +<P> +Officer 4434 was on "fixed post." +</P> + +<P> +This is an institution of the New York police department which makes it +possible for citizens to locate, in time of need, a representative of +the law. At certain street crossings throughout the boroughs bluecoats +are assigned to guard-duty during the night, where they can keep close +watch on the neighboring thoroughfares. The "fixed post" increases the +efficiency of the service, but it is a bitter ordeal on the men. +</P> + +<P> +Officer 4434 shivered under his great coat. He pulled the storm hood +of his cap closer about his neck as he muttered an opinion, far from +being as cold as the biting blast, concerning the Commissioner who had +installed the system. He had been on duty over an hour, and even his +sturdy young physique was beginning to feel the strain of the Arctic +temperature. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder when Maguire is coming to relieve me?" muttered 4434, when +suddenly his mind left the subject, as his keen vision descried two +struggling figures a few yards down the dark side of Twelfth Street. +</P> + +<P> +There was no outcry for help. But 4434 knew his precinct too well to +wait for that. He quietly walked to the left corner and down toward +the couple. As he neared them the mist of the eddying snowflakes +became less dense; he could discern a short man twisting the arm of a +tall woman, who seemed to be top heavy from an enormous black-plumed +hat. The faces of the twain were still indistinct. The man whirled +the woman about roughly. She uttered a subdued moan of pain, and 4434, +as he softly approached them, his footfalls muffled by the blanket of +white, could hear her pleading in a low tone with the man. +</P> + +<P> +"Aw, kid, I ain't got none ... I swear I ain't... Oh, oh ... ye know I +wouldn't lie to ye, kid!" +</P> + +<P> +"Nix, Annie. Out wid it, er I'll bust yer damn arm!" +</P> + +<P> +"Jimmie, I ain't raised a nickel to-night ... dere ain't even a sailor +out a night like dis... Oh, oh, kid, don't treat me dis way..." +</P> + +<P> +Her voice died down to a gasp of pain. +</P> + +<P> +Officer 4434 was within ten feet of the couple by this time. He +recognized the type though not the features of the man, who had now +wrenched the woman's arm behind her so cruelly that she had fallen to +her knees, in the snow. The fellow was so intent upon his quest for +money that he did not observe the approach of the policeman. +</P> + +<P> +But the woman caught a quick glimpse of the intruder into their +"domestic" affairs. She tried to warn her companion. +</P> + +<P> +"Jimmie, dere's a..." +</P> + +<P> +She did not finish, for her companion wished to end further argument +with his own particular repartee. +</P> + +<P> +He swung viciously with his left arm and brought a hard fist across the +woman's pleading lips. She screamed and sank back limply. +</P> + +<P> +As she did so, Officer 4434 reached forward with a vise-like grip and +closed his tense fingers about the back of Jimmie's muscular neck. +Holding his night stick in readiness for trouble, with that knack +peculiar to policemen, he yanked the tough backward and threw him to +his knees. Annie sprang to her feet. +</P> + +<P> +"Lemme go!" gurgled the surprised Jimmie, as he wriggled to get free. +Without a word, the woman who had been suffering from his brutality, +now sprang upon the rescuing policeman with the fury of a lioness +robbed of her cub. She clawed at the bluecoat's face and cursed him +with volubility. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll git you broke fer this!" groaned Jimmie, as 4434 held him to his +knees, while Annie tried to get her hold on the officer's neck. It was +a temptation to swing the night-stick, according to the laws of war, +and then protect himself against the fury of the frenzied woman. But, +this is an impulse which the policeman is trained to subdue—public +opinion on the subject to the contrary notwithstanding. Officer 4434 +knew the influence of the gangsters with certain politicians, who had +influence with the magistrates, who in turn meted out summary +reprimands and penalties to policemen un-Spartanlike enough to defend +themselves with their legal weapons against the henchmen of the East +Side politicians! +</P> + +<P> +Annie had managed by no mean pugilistic ability to criss-cross five +painful scratches with her nails, upon the policeman's face, despite +his attempt to guard himself. +</P> + +<P> +Jimmie, with tactical resourcefulness, had twisted around in such a way +that he delivered a strong-jaw nip on the right leg of the policeman. +</P> + +<P> +4434 suddenly released his hold on the man's neck, whipped out his +revolver and fired it in the air. He would have used the signal for +help generally available at such a time, striking the night stick upon +the pavement, but the thick snow would have muffled the resonant alarm. +</P> + +<P> +"Beat it, Annie, and git de gang!" cried out Jimmie as he scrambled to +his feet. The woman sped away obediently, as Officer 4434 closed in +again upon his prisoner. The gangster covered the retreat of the woman +by grappling the policeman with arms and legs. +</P> + +<P> +The two fell to the pavement, and writhed in their struggle on the snow. +</P> + +<P> +Jimmie, like many of the gang men, was a local pugilist of no mean +ability. His short stature was equalized in fighting odds by a +tremendous bull strength. 4434, in his heavy overcoat, and with the +storm hood over his head and neck was somewhat handicapped. Even as +they struggled, the efforts of the nimble Annie bore fruit. In +surprisingly brief time a dozen men had rushed out from the neighboring +saloon, and were giving the doughty policeman more trouble than he +could handle. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly they ran, however, for down the street came two speeding +figures in the familiar blue coats. One of the officers was shrilly +blowing his whistle for reinforcements. He knew what to expect in a +gang battle and was taking no chances. +</P> + +<P> +Maguire, who had just come on to relieve 4434, lived up to his duty +most practically by catching the leg of the battling Jimmie, and giving +it a wrestling twist which threw the tough with a thud on the pavement, +clear of his antagonist. +</P> + +<P> +4434 rose to his feet stiffly, as his rescuers dragged Jimmie to a +standing position. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Burke, 'tis a pleasant little party you do be having," +volunteered Maguire. "Sure, and you've been rassling with Jimmie the +Monk. Was he trying to pick yer pockets?" +</P> + +<P> +"Naw, I wasn't doin' nawthin', an' I'm goin' ter git that rookie broke +fer assaultin' me. I'm goin' ter write a letter to the Mayor!" growled +Jimmie. +</P> + +<P> +Officer Burke laughed a bit ruefully. +</P> + +<P> +He mopped some blood off his face, from the nail scratches of Jimmie's +lady associate, and then turned toward the two officers. +</P> + +<P> +"He didn't pick my pockets—it was just the old story, of beating up +his woman, trying to get the money she made on the street to-night. +When I tried to help her they both turned on me." +</P> + +<P> +"Faith, Burke, I thought you had more horse sense," responded Maguire. +"That's a dangerous thing to do with married folks, or them as ought to +be married. They'll fight like Kilkenny cats until the good Samaritan +comes along and then they form a trust and beat up the Samaritan." +</P> + +<P> +"I think most women these days need a little beating up anyway, to keep +'em from worrying about their troubles," volunteered Officer Dexter. +"I'd have been happier if I had learned that in time." +</P> + +<P> +"Say, nix on dis blarney, youse!" interrupted the Monk, who was trying +to wriggle out of the arm hold of Burke and Maguire. "I ain't gonter +stand fer dis pinch wen I ain't done nawthin." +</P> + +<P> +A police sergeant, who had heard the whistle as he made his rounds, now +came up. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the row?" he gruffly exclaimed. Burke explained. The sergeant +shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"You're wasting time, Burke, on this sort of stuff. When you've been +on the force a while longer you'll learn that it's the easiest thing to +look the other way when you see these men fighting with their women. +The magistrates won't do a thing on a policeman's word alone. You just +see. Now you've got to go down to Night Court with this man, get a +call down because you haven't got a witness, and this rummie gets set +free. Why, you'd think these magistrates had to apologize for there +being a police force! The papers go on about the brutality of the +police, and the socialists howl about Cossack methods, and the +ministers preach about graft and vice, and the reformers sit in their +mahogany chairs in the skyscraper offices and dictate poems about sin, +and the cops have to walk around and get hell beat out of 'em by these +wops and kikes every time they tries to keep a little order!" +</P> + +<P> +The sergeant turned to Maguire. +</P> + +<P> +"You know these gangs around here, Mack. Who's this guy's girl?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's got three or four, sergeant," responded the officer. "I guess +this one must be Dutch Annie. Was she all dolled up with about a +hundred dollars' worth of ostrich feathers, Burke?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—tall, and some fighter." +</P> + +<P> +"That's the one. Her hangout is over there on the corner, in +Shultberger's cabaret. We can get her now, maybe." +</P> + +<P> +The sergeant beckoned to Dexter. +</P> + +<P> +"Run this guy over to the station house, and put him down on the +blotter for disorderly conduct, and assaulting an officer. You get +onto your post, Maguire, or the Commish'll be shooting past here in a +machine on the way to some ball at the Ritz, and will have us all on +charges. You come with me, Burke, and we'll nab that woman as a +material witness." +</P> + +<P> +Burke and his superior crossed the street and quickly entered the +ornate portal of Shultberger's cabaret, which was in reality the annex +to his corner barroom. +</P> + +<P> +As they strode in a waiter stood by a tuneless piano, upon which a +bloated "professor" was beating a tattoo of cheap syncopation +accompaniment of the advantages of "Bobbin' Up An' Down," which was +warbled with that peculiarly raucous, nasal tenor so popular in +Tenderloin resorts. The musical waiter's jaw fell in the middle of a +bob, as he espied the blue uniforms. +</P> + +<P> +He disappeared behind a swinging door with the professional skill of a +stage magician. +</P> + +<P> +Sitting around the dilapidated wooden tables was a motley throng of +red-nosed women, loafers, heavy-jowled young aliens, and a scattering +of young girls attired in cheap finery; a prevailing color of chemical +yellow as to hair, and flaming red cheeks and lips. +</P> + +<P> +Instinctively the gathering rose for escape, but the sergeant strode +forward to one particular table, where sat a girl nursing a bleeding +mouth. +</P> + +<P> +Burke remained by the door to shut off that exit. +</P> + +<P> +"Is this the one?" asked the sergeant, as he put his hands on the young +woman's shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +Burke scrutinized her closely, responding quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes!" +</P> + +<P> +"Come on, you," ordered the roundsman. "I want you. Quick!" +</P> + +<P> +"Say, I ain't done a thing, what do ye want me fer?" whined the girl, +as the sergeant pulled at her sleeve. The officer did not reply, but +he looked menacingly about him at the evil company. +</P> + +<P> +"If any of you guys starts anything I'm going to call out the reserves. +Come on, Annie." +</P> + +<P> +The proprietor, Shultberger, now entered from the front, after a +warning from his waiter. +</P> + +<P> +"Vot's dis, sergeant? Vot you buttin' in my place for? Ain't I in +right?" he cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Shut up. This girl has been assaulting an officer, and I want her. +Come on, now, or I'll get the wagon here, and then there will be +trouble." +</P> + +<P> +Annie began to pull back, and it looked as though some of the toughs +would interfere. But Shultberger understood his business. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, Annie, don't start nottings here. Go on vid de officer. I'll +fix it up all right. But I don't vant my place down on de blotter. +Who vas it—Jimmie?" +</P> + +<P> +The girl began to cry, and gulped the glass of whiskey on the table as +she finally yielded to the tug of the sergeant. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, it's Jimmie. An' he wasn't doin' a ting. Dese rookies is always +makin' trouble fer me." +</P> + +<P> +She sobbed hysterically as the sergeant walked her out. Shultberger +patted her on the shoulder reassuringly. +</P> + +<P> +"Dot's all right, Annie. I vouldn't let nodding happen to Jimmie. +I'll bail him out and you too. Go along; dot's a good girl." He +turned to his guests, and motioned to them to be silent. +</P> + +<P> +The "professor," at the piano, used to such scenes, lulled the nerves +of the company with a rag-time variation of "Oh, You Beautiful Doll," +and Burke, the sergeant and Annie went out into the night. +</P> + +<P> +The girl was taken to the station. The lieutenant looked questioningly +at Officer 4434. +</P> + +<P> +"Want to put her down for assault?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +Burke looked at the unhappy creature. Her hair was half-down her back, +and her lips swollen and bleeding from Jimmie's brutal blow. The cheap +rouge on her face; the heavy pencilling of her brows, the crudely +applied blue and black grease paint about her eyes, the tawdry paste +necklace around her powdered throat; the pitifully thin silk dress in +which she had braved the elements for a few miserable dollars: all +these brought tears to the eyes of the young officer. +</P> + +<P> +He was sick at heart. +</P> + +<P> +The girl shivered and sobbed in that hysterical manner which indicates +weakness, emptiness, lack of soul—rather than sorrow. +</P> + +<P> +"Poor thing—I couldn't do it. I don't want to see her sent to +Blackwell's Island. She's getting enough punishment every day—and +every night." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, she's made your face look like a railroad map. You're too soft, +young fellow. I'll put her down as a material witness. Go wash that +blood off, and we'll send 'em both down to Night Court. You've done +yourself out of your relief butting in this way. Take a tip from me, +and let these rummies fight it out among themselves after this as long +as they don't mix up with somebody worth while." +</P> + +<P> +Burke wiped his eye with the back of his cold hand. It was not snow +which had melted there. He was young enough in the police service to +feel the pathos of even such common situations as this. +</P> + +<P> +He turned quietly and went back to the washstand in the rear room of +the station. The reserves were sitting about, playing checkers and +cards. Some were reading. +</P> + +<P> +Half a dozen of the men, fond of the young policeman, chatted with him, +and volunteered advice, to which Burke had no reply. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't start in mixing up with the Gas Tank Gang over one of those +girls, Burke, for they're not worth it." +</P> + +<P> +"You'll have enough to do in this precinct to look after your own skin, +and round up the street holdups, or get singed at a tenement fire." +</P> + +<P> +And so it went. +</P> + +<P> +The worldly wisdom of his fellows was far from encouraging. Yet, +despite their cynical expressions, Burke knew that warm hearts and +gallant chivalry were lodged beneath the brass buttons. +</P> + +<P> +There is a current notion among the millions of Americans who do not +know, and who have fortunately for themselves not been in the position +where they needed to know, that the policemen of New York are an +organized body of tyrannical, lying grafters who maintain their power +by secret societies, official connivance and criminal brute force. +</P> + +<P> +Taken by and large, there is no fighting organization in any army in +the world which can compare with the New York police force for physical +equipment, quick action under orders or upon the initiative required by +emergencies, gallantry or <I>esprit de corps</I>. For salaries barely equal +to those of poorly paid clerks or teamsters, these men risk their lives +daily, must face death at any moment, and are held under a discipline +no less rigorous than that of the regular army. Their problems are +more complex than those of any soldiery; they deal with fifty different +nationalities, and are forced by circumstances to act as judge and +jury, as firemen, as life savers, as directories, as arbiters of +neighborhood squabbles and domestic wrangles. Their greatest services +are rendered in the majority of cases which never call for arrest and +prosecution. That there are many instances of petty "graft," and that, +in some cases, the "middle men" prey on the underworld cannot be denied. +</P> + +<P> +But it is the case against a certain policeman which receives the +attention of the newspapers and the condemnation of the public, while +almost unheeded are scores of heroic deeds which receive bare mention +in the daily press. For the misdeed of one bad policeman the gallantry +and self-sacrifice of a hundred pass without appreciation. +</P> + +<P> +There have been but three recorded instances of cowardice in the annals +of the New York police force. The memory of them still rankles in the +bosom of every member. And yet the performance of duty at the cost of +life and limb is regarded by the uniformed men as merely being "all in +the day's work." The men are anxious to do their duty in every way, +but political, religious, social and commercial influences are +continually erecting stone walls across the path of that duty. +</P> + +<P> +Superhuman in wisdom, thrice blest in luck is the bluecoat who +conscientiously can live up to his own ideals, carry out the law as +written by his superiors without being sent to "rusticate with the +goats," or being demoted for stepping upon the toes of some of those +same superiors! +</P> + +<P> +Officer Bobbie Burke betook himself to the Night Court to lodge his +complaint against Jimmie the Monk. The woman, Dutch Annie, sniveling +and sobbing, was lodged in a cell near the gangster before being +brought before the rail to face the magistrate. +</P> + +<P> +Burke saw that they could not communicate with each other, and so hoped +that he could have his own story accepted by the magistrate. He stood +by the door of the crowded detention room, which opened into a larger +courtroom, where the prisoners were led one by one to the prisoner's +dock—in this case, a hand-rail two feet in front of the long desk of +the judge, while that worthy was seated on a platform which enabled him +to look down at the faces of the arraigned. +</P> + +<P> +It was an apparently endless procession. +</P> + +<P> +The class of arrests was monotonous. Three of every four cases were +those of street women who had been arrested by "plain clothes" men or +detectives for solicitation on the street. +</P> + +<P> +The accusing officer took a chair at the left of the magistrate. The +uniformed attendant handed the magistrate the affidavits of complaint. +The judge mechanically scrawled his name at the bottom of the papers, +glanced at the words of the arraignments, and then scowled over the +edge of his desk at the flashily dressed girls before him. They all +seemed slight variations on the same mould. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps one girl would simulate some hysterical sobs, and begin by +protesting her innocence. Another would be hard and indifferent. A +third, indignant. +</P> + +<P> +"What about this, officer?" the judge would ask. "Where did you see +this woman, what did you say, what did she say, and what happened?" +</P> + +<P> +The detective, in a voice and manner as mechanical as that of the +judge, would mumble his oft repeated story, giving the exact minute of +his observations, the actions of the woman in accosting different +pedestrians and in her final approach to him. +</P> + +<P> +"How many times before have you been arrested, girl?" the magistrate +would growl. +</P> + +<P> +Sometimes the girls would admit the times; in most cases their memories +were defective, until the accusing officer would cite past history. +This girl had been arrested and paroled once before; that one had been +sent to "the Island" for thirty days; the next one was an habitual +offender. It was a tragic monotony. Sometimes the magistrate would +summon the sweet-faced matron to have a talk with some young girl, +evidently a "green one" for whom there might be hope. There was more +kindliness and effort to reform the prisoners behind those piercing +eyes of the judge than one might have supposed to hear him drone out +his judgment: "Thirty days, Molly"; "Ten dollars, Aggie—the Island +next time, sure"; "Five dollars for you, Sadie," and so on. There was +a weary, hopeless look in the magistrate's eyes, had you studied him +close at hand. He knew, better than the reformers, of the horrors of +the social evil, at the very bottom of the cup of sin. Better than +they could he understand the futility of garrulous legislation at the +State Capitol, to be offset by ignorance, avarice, weakness and disease +in the congestion of the big, unwieldy city. When he fined the girls +he knew that it meant only a hungry day, one less silk garment or +perhaps a beating from an angry and disappointed "lover." When he sent +them to the workhouse their activities were merely discontinued for a +while to learn more vileness from companions in their imprisonment; to +make for greater industry—busier vice and quicker disease upon their +return to the streets. The occasional cases in which there was some +chance for regeneration were more welcome to him, even, than to the +weak and sobbing girls, hopeless with the misery of their early +defeats. Yet, the magistrate knew only too well the miserable minimum +of cases which ever resulted in real rescue and removal from the sordid +existence. +</P> + +<P> +Once as low as the rail of the Night Court—a girl seldom escaped from +the slime into which she had dragged herself. And yet <I>had</I> she +dragged herself there? Was <I>she</I> to blame? Was she to pay the +consequences in the last Reckoning of Accounts? +</P> + +<P> +This thought came to Officer Bobbie Burke as he watched the horrible +drama drag monotonously through its brief succession of sordid scenes. +</P> + +<P> +The expression of the magistrate, the same look of sympathetic misery +on the face of the matron, and even on many of the detectives, +automatons who had chanted this same official requiem of dead souls, +years of nights ... not a sombre tone of the gruesome picture was lost +to Burke's keen eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Some one has to pay; some one has to pay! I wonder who?" muttered +Officer 4434 under his breath. +</P> + +<P> +There were cases of a different caliber. Yet Burke could see in them +what Balzac called "social coördination." +</P> + +<P> +Now a middle-aged woman, with hair unkempt, and hat awry, maudlin tears +in her swollen eyes, and swaying as she held the rail, looked shiftily +up into the magistrate's immobile face. +</P> + +<P> +"You've been drunk again, Mrs. Rafferty? This is twice during the last +fortnight that I've had you here." +</P> + +<P> +"Yis, yer honor, an me wid two foine girls left home. Oh, Saint Mary +protect me, an' oi'm a (hic) bad woman. Yer honor, it's the fault of +me old man, Pat. (Hic) Oi'm <I>not</I> a bad woman, yer honor." +</P> + +<P> +The magistrate was kind as he spoke. +</P> + +<P> +"And what does Pat do?" +</P> + +<P> +"He beats me, yer honor (hic), until Oi sneak out to the family +intrance at the corner fer a quiet nip ter fergit it. An' the girls, +they've been supportin' me (hic), an' payin the rint, an' buyin' the +vittles, an' (hic) it's a dog's life they lead, wid all their work. +When they go out wid dacint young min (hic), Pat cusses the young min, +an' beats the girls whin they come home (hic)." +</P> + +<P> +Here the woman broke down, sobbing, while the attendant kept her from +swaying and falling. +</P> + +<P> +"There, there, Mrs. Rafferty. I'll suspend sentence this time. But +don't let it happen another time. You have Pat arrested and I'll teach +him something about treating you right." +</P> + +<P> +"My God, yer honor (hic), the worst of it is it's me two girls—they +ain't got no home, but a drunken din, the next thing I knows they'll be +arristed (hic) and brought up before ye like these other poor divvels. +Yer honor, it's drunken Pats and min like him that's bringin' these +poor girls here—it ain't the cops an' the sports (hic), yer honor." +</P> + +<P> +The woman staggered as the magistrate quietly signaled the attendant to +lead her through the gate, and up the aisle of the court to the outer +door. +</P> + +<P> +As she passed by the spectators, two or three richly dressed young +women giggled and nudged the dapper youths with whom they were sitting. +</P> + +<P> +"Silence!" cried the magistrate tersely. "This is not a cabaret show. +I don't want any seeing-New-York parties here. Sergeant, put those +people out of the court." +</P> + +<P> +The officer walked up the aisle and ordered the society buds and their +escorts to leave. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, we're studying sociology," murmured one girl. "It's a very +stupid thing, however, down here." +</P> + +<P> +"So vulgar, my dear," acquiesced her friend. "There's nothing +interesting anyway. Just the same old story." +</P> + +<P> +They noisily arose, and walked out, while Officer Burke could hear one +of the gilded youths exclaim in a loud voice as they reached the outer +corridor: +</P> + +<P> +"Come on, let's go up to Rector's for a little tango, and see some real +life...." +</P> + +<P> +The magistrate who had heard it tapped his pen on the desk, and looked +quizzically at the matron. +</P> + +<P> +"They are doubtless preparing some reform legislation for the suffrage +platform, Mrs. Grey, and I have inadvertently delayed the millennium. +Ah, a pity!" +</P> + +<P> +Burke was impatient for the calling of his own case. He was tired. He +would have been hungry had he not been so nauseated by the sickening +environment. He longed for the fresh air; even the snowstorm was +better than this. +</P> + +<P> +But his turn had not come. The next to be called was another answer to +his mental question. +</P> + +<P> +A young woman with a blackened eye and a bleeding cheek was brought in +by a fat, jolly officer, who led a burly, sodden man with him. +</P> + +<P> +The charge was quarreling and destroying the furniture of a neighbor in +whose flat the fight had taken place. +</P> + +<P> +"Who started it?" asked the magistrate. +</P> + +<P> +"She did, your honor. She ain't never home when I wants my vittles +cooked, and she blows my money so there ain't nothing in the house to +eat for meself. She's always startin' things, and she did this time +when I tells her to come on home...." +</P> + +<P> +"Just a minute," interrupted the magistrate. "What is the cause of +this, little woman? Who struck you on the eye?" +</P> + +<P> +The woman's lips trembled, and she glanced at the big fellow beside +her. He glowered down at her with a threatening twist of his mouth. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, your honor, you see, the baby was sick, and Joe, he went out with +the boys pay night, and we didn't have a cent in the flat, and I had +to..." +</P> + +<P> +"Shut up, or I'll bust you when I get you alone!" muttered Joe, until +the judge pounded on the table with his gavel. +</P> + +<P> +"You won't be where you can bust her!" sharply exclaimed the +magistrate. "Go on, little woman. When did he hit you?" +</P> + +<P> +The wife trembled and hesitated. The magistrate nodded encouragingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Why weren't you home?" he asked softly. +</P> + +<P> +"My neighbor, Mrs. Goldberg, likes the baby, and she was showing me how +to make some syrup for its croup, your honor, sir. We haven't got any +light—it's a quarter gas meter, and there wasn't anything to cook +with, and I had the baby in her flat, and Joe he just got home—he +hadn't been there ... since ... Saturday night ... I didn't have +anything to eat—since then, myself." +</P> + +<P> +Joe whirled about threateningly, but the officer caught his uplifted +arm. +</P> + +<P> +"She lies. She ain't straight, that's what it is. Hanging around them +<I>Sheenies</I>, and sayin' it's the baby. She lies!" +</P> + +<P> +The little woman's face paled, and she staggered back, her tremulous +fingers clutching at the empty air as her great eyes opened with horror +at his words. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not <I>straight</I>? Oh, oh, Joe! You're killing me!" +</P> + +<P> +She moaned as though the man had beat her again. +</P> + +<P> +"Six months!" rasped out the magistrate between his teeth. "And I'm +going to put you under a peace bond when you get out. Little woman, +you're dismissed." +</P> + +<P> +Joe was roughly jostled out into the detention room again by the +rosy-cheeked policeman, whose face was neither so jolly nor rosy now. +The woman sobbed, and leaned across the rail, her outstretched arms +held pleadingly toward the magistrate. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, judge, sir ... don't send him up for six months. How can the baby +and I live? We have no one, not one soul to care for us, and I'm +expecting..." +</P> + +<P> +Mercifully her nerves gave way, and she fainted. The gruff old court +attendant, now as gentle as a nurse, caught her, and with the gateman, +carried her at the judge's direction, toward his own private office, +whither hurried Mrs. Grey, the matron. +</P> + +<P> +The magistrate blew his nose, rubbed his glasses, and irritably looked +at the next paper. +</P> + +<P> +"Jimmie Olinski. Officer Burke. Hurry up, I want to call recess!" he +exclaimed. +</P> + +<P> +Burke, in a daze of thoughts, pulled himself together, and then took +the arm of Jimmie the Monk, who advanced with manner docile and +obsequious. He was not a stranger to the path to the rail. Another +officer led Annie forward. Burke took the chair. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't waste my time," snapped the magistrate. "What's this? Another +fight?" +</P> + +<P> +Officer 4434 explained the situation. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you want to complain, woman?" asked the magistrate. +</P> + +<P> +"Complain, why yer honor, dis cop is lyin' like a house afire. Dis is +me gent' friend, an' I got me face hoit by dis cop hittin' me when he +butted into our conversation. Dis cop assaulted us both, yer honor." +</P> + +<P> +"That'll do. Shut up. You know what this is, don't you, Burke? The +same old story. Why do you waste time on this sort of thing unless +you've got a witness? You know one of these women will never testify +against the man, no matter how much he beats and robs her." +</P> + +<P> +"But, your honor, the man assaulted her and assaulted me," began Burke. +</P> + +<P> +"She doesn't count. That's the pity of it, poor thing. I'll hold him +over to General Sessions for a criminal trial on assaulting you." +</P> + +<P> +In the back of the room a stout man in a fur overcoat arose. +</P> + +<P> +It was Shultberger. He came down the aisle. +</P> + +<P> +As he did so, unnoticed by Officer 4434, three of Shultberger's +companions arose and quietly left the courtroom by the front entrance. +</P> + +<P> +"Oxcuse me, Chudge, but may I offer bail for my friend, little Jimmie?" +</P> + +<P> +He had some papers in his hand, for this was what might be called a +by-product of his saloon business; Shultberger was always ready for the +assistance of his clients. +</P> + +<P> +The magistrate looked sharply at him. "Down here again, eh? I'd think +those deeds and that old brick house would be worn out by this time, +Shultberger, from the frequency with which you juggle it against the +liberty of your friends." +</P> + +<P> +"It's a fine house, Chudge, and was assessed." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—go file your papers," snapped the magistrate. "You can report +back to your station house, officer. There is no charge against this +girl—she is merely held as material witness. She'll never testify. +She's discharged. Take my advice, Burke, and play safe with these +gun-men. You're in a neighborhood which needs good precaution as well +as good intentions. Good night." +</P> + +<P> +The magistrate rose, declaring a recess for one hour, and Officer 4434 +left the court through the police entrance. +</P> + +<P> +As he turned the corner of the old Court building, he repeated to +himself the question which had forced itself so strongly upon him: "Who +is to blame? Who has to pay? The men or the women?" +</P> + +<P> +Again he saw, mentally, the sobbing, drunken Irish woman with the two +daughters who had no home life. He saw the brutal Joe, and his +fainting wife as he cast the horrible words "not straight" into her +soul. He saw that the answer to his question, and the shallow society +youngsters, who had left the courtroom to see "real life" at Rector's, +were not disconnected from that answer. +</P> + +<P> +But he did not see a dark form behind a stone buttress at the corner of +the old building. He did not see a brick which came hurtling through +the air from behind him. +</P> + +<P> +He merely fell forward, mutely—with a fractured skull! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +WHEN LOVE COMES VISITING +</H4> + +<P> +It was a very weak young man who sojourned for the next few weeks in +the hospital, hovering so near the shadow of the Eternal Fixed Post +that nurses and internes gave him up many times. +</P> + +<P> +"It's only his fine young body, with a fine clean mind and fine living +behind it, that has brought him around, nurse," said Doctor MacFarland, +the police surgeon of Burke's precinct, as he came to make his daily +call. +</P> + +<P> +"He's been very patient, sir, and it's a blessing to see him able to +sit up now, and take an interest in things. Many a man's mind has been +a blank after such a blow and such a fracture. He's a great favorite, +here," said the pretty nurse. +</P> + +<P> +Old Doctor MacFarland gave her a comical wink as he answered. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, nurse, beware of these great favorites. I like him myself, and +every officer on the force who knows him does as well. But the life of +a policeman's wife is not quite as jolly and rollicking as that of a +grateful patient who happens to be a millionaire. So, bide your time." +</P> + +<P> +He chuckled and walked on down the hall, while the young woman blushed +a carmine which made her look very pretty as she entered the private +room which had been reserved for Bobbie Burke. +</P> + +<P> +"Is there anything you would like for a change?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I can't read, and I can't take up all your time talking, so I +wish you'd let me get out of this room into one of the wards in a +wheel-chair, nurse," answered Burke. "I'd like to see some of the +other folks, if it's permissible." +</P> + +<P> +"That's easy. The doctor said you could sit up more each day now. He +says you'll be back on duty in another three weeks—or maybe six." +</P> + +<P> +Burke groaned. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, these doctors, really, I feel as well now as I ever did, except +that my head is just a little wobbly and I don't believe I could beat +Longboat in a Marathon. But, you see, I'll be back on duty before any +three weeks go by." +</P> + +<P> +Burke was wheeled out into the big free ward of the hospital by one of +the attendants. He had never realized how much human misery could be +concentrated into one room until that perambulatory trip. +</P> + +<P> +It was not a visiting day, and many of the sufferers tossed about +restless and unhappy. +</P> + +<P> +About some of the beds there were screens—to keep the sight of their +unhappiness and anguish from their neighbors. +</P> + +<P> +Here was a man whose leg had been amputated. His entire life was +blighted because he had stuck to his job, coupling freight cars, when +the engineer lost his head. +</P> + +<P> +There, on that bed, was an old man who had saved a dozen youngsters +from a burning Christmas tree, and was now paying the penalty with +months of torture. +</P> + +<P> +Yonder poor fellow, braving the odds of the city, had left his country +town, sought labor vainly, until he was found starving rather than beg. +</P> + +<P> +As a policeman, Burke had seen many miseries in his short experience on +the force; as an invalid he had been initiated into the second degree +in this hospital ward. He wondered if there could be anything more +bitter. There was—his third and final degree in the ritual of life: +but that comes later on in our story. +</P> + +<P> +After chatting here and there with a sufferer, passing a friendly word +of encouragement, or spinning some droll old yarn to cheer up another, +Bobbie had enough. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, it's warm looking outside. Could I get some fresh air on one of +the sun-porches?" he asked his steersman. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure thing, cap. I'll blanket you up a bit, and put you through your +paces on the south porch." +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie was rolled out on the glass protected porch into the blessed +rays of the sun. He found another traveler using the same mode of +conveyance, an elderly man, whose pallid face, seamed with lines of +suffering, still showed the jolly, unconquerable spirit which keeps +some men young no matter how old they grow. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, it's about the finest sunlight I've seen for many a day. How do +you like it, young man?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's the first I've had for so many weeks that I didn't believe there +was any left in the world," responded Burke. "If we could only get out +for a walk instead of this Atlantic City boardwalk business it would be +better, wouldn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +His companion nodded, but his genial smile vanished. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, but that's something I'll never get again." +</P> + +<P> +"What, never again? Why, surely you're getting along to have them +bring you out here?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, my boy. I've a broken hip, and a broken thigh. Crushed in an +elevator accident, back in the factory, and I'm too old a dog to learn +to do such tricks as flying. I'll have to content myself with one of +these chairs for the rest of my worthless old years." +</P> + +<P> +The old man sighed, and such a sigh! +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie's heart went out to him, and he tried to cheer him up. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, sir, there could be worse things in life—you are not blind, nor +deaf—you have your hands and they look like hands that can do a lot." +</P> + +<P> +His neighbor looked down at his nervous, delicate hands and smiled, for +his was a valiant spirit. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, they've done a lot. They'll do a lot more, for I've been lying +on my back with nothing to do for a month but think up things for them +to do. I'm a mechanic, you know, and fortunately I have my hands and +my memory, and years of training. I've been superintendent of a +factory; electrical work, phonographs, and all kinds of instruments +like that were my specialty. But, they don't want an old man back +there, now. Too many young bloods with college training and book +knowledge. I couldn't superintend much work now—this wheel chair of +mine is built for comfort rather than exceeding the speed limit." +</P> + +<P> +Burke drew him out, and learned another pitiful side of life. +</P> + +<P> +Burke's new acquaintance was an artisan of the old school, albeit with +the skill and modernity of a man who keeps himself constantly in the +forefront by youthful thinking and scientific work. He had devoted the +best years of his life to the interests of his employer. When a +splendid factory had been completed, largely through the results of his +executive as well as his technical skill, and an enormous fortune +accumulated from the growing business of the famous plant, the +president of the company had died. His son, fresh from college, +assumed the management of the organization, and the services of old +Barton were little appreciated by the younger man or his board of +directors. It was a familiar story of modern business life. +</P> + +<P> +"So, there you have it, young man. Why I should bother you with my +troubles I don't quite understand myself. In a hospital it's like +shipboard; we know a man a short while, and isolated from the rest of +the world, we are drawn closer than with the acquaintances of years. +In my case it's just the tragedy of age. There is no man so important +but that a business goes on very well without him. I realized it with +young Gresham, even before I was hurt in the factory. They had taken +practically all I had to give, and it was time to cast me aside. As a +sort of charity, Gresham has sent me four weeks' salary, with a letter +saying that he can do no more, and has appointed a young electrical +engineer, from his own class in Yale, to take my place. They need an +active man, not an invalid. My salary has been used up for expenses, +and for the living of my two daughters, Mary and Lorna. What I'll do +when I get back home, I don't know." +</P> + +<P> +He shook his head, striving to conceal the despondency which was +tugging at his heart. +</P> + +<P> +Burke was cheery as he responded. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Mr. Barton, you're not out of date yet. The world of +electricity is getting bigger every day. You say that you have made +many patents which were given to the Gresham company because you were +their employee. Now, you can turn out a few more with your own name on +them, and get the profits yourself. That's not so bad. I'll be out of +here myself, before long, and I'll stir myself, to see that you get a +chance. I can perhaps help in some way, even if I'm only a policeman." +</P> + +<P> +The older man looked at him with a comical surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"A policeman? A cop? Well, well, well! I wouldn't have known it!" +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie Burke laughed, and he had a merry laugh that did one's soul good +to hear. +</P> + +<P> +"We're just human beings, you know—even if the ministers and the +muckrakers do accuse us of being blood brothers to the devil and Ali +Baba." +</P> + +<P> +"I never saw a policeman out of uniform before—that's why it seems +funny, I suppose. But I wouldn't judge you to be the type which I +usually see in the police. How long have you been in the service?" +</P> + +<P> +Here was Bobby's cue for autobiography, and he realized that, as a +matter of neighborliness, he must go as far as his friend. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'm what they call a rookie. It's my second job as a rookie, +however, for I ran away from home several years ago, and joined the +army. I believed all the pretty pictures they hang up in barber shops +and country post-offices, and thought I was going to be a globe +trotter. Do you remember that masterpiece which shows the gallant +bugler tooting the 'Blue Bells of Scotland,' and wearing a straight +front jacket that would make a Paris dressmaker green with envy? Well, +sir, I believed that poster, and the result was that I went to the +Philippines and helped chase Malays, Filipinos, mosquitoes, and germs; +curried the major's horse, swept his front porch, polished his shoes, +built fences and chicken houses, and all the rest of the things a +soldier does." +</P> + +<P> +"But, why didn't you stay at home?" +</P> + +<P> +Burke dropped his eyes for an instant, and then looked up unhappily. +</P> + +<P> +"I had no real home. My mother and father died the same year, when I +was eighteen. I don't know how it all happened. I had gone to college +out West for one year, when my uncle sent for me to come back to the +town where we lived and get to work. My father was rather well to do, +and I couldn't quite understand it. But, my uncle was executor of the +estate, and when I had been away that season it was all done. There +was no estate when I got back, and there was nothing to do but to work +for my uncle in the store which he said he had bought from my father, +and to live up in the little room on the third floor where the cook +used to sleep, in the house where I was born, which he said he had +bought from the estate. It was a queer game. My father left no +records of a lot of things, and so there you know why I ran away to +listen to that picture bugle. I re-enlisted, and at the end of my +second service I got sick of it. I was a sergeant and was going to +take the examination for second lieutenant when I got malaria, and I +decided that the States were good enough for me. The Colonel knew the +Police Commissioner here. He sent me a rattling good letter. I never +expected to use it. But, after I hunted a job for six months and spent +every cent I had, I decided that soldiering was a good training for +sweeping front porches and polishing rifles, but it didn't pay much gas +and rent in the big city. The soldier is a baby who always takes +orders from dad, and dad is the government. I decided I'd use what +training I had, so I took that letter to the Commissioner. I got +through the examinations, and landed on the force. Then a brick with a +nice sharp corner landed on the back of my head, and I landed up here. +And that's all there is to <I>my</I> tale of woe." +</P> + +<P> +The old man looked at him genially. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you've had your own hard times, my boy. None of us finds it all +as pretty as the picture of the bugler, whether we work in a factory, a +skyscraper or on a drill ground. But, somehow or other, I don't +believe you'll be a policeman so very long." +</P> + +<P> +Bob leaned back in his chair and drank in the invigorating air, as it +whistled in through the open casement of the glass-covered porch. +There was a curious twinkle in his eye, as he replied: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to be a policeman long enough to 'get' the gangsters that +'got' me, Mr. Barton. And I believe I'm going to try a little +housecleaning, or white-wings work around that neighborhood, just as a +matter of sport. It doesn't hurt to try." +</P> + +<P> +And Burke's jaw closed with a determined click, as he smiled grimly. +</P> + +<P> +Barton was about to speak when the door from the inner ward opened +behind them. +</P> + +<P> +"Father! Father!" came a fresh young voice, and the old man turned +around in his chair with an exclamation of delight. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Mary, my child. I'm so pleased. How did you get to see me? +It's not a visiting day." +</P> + +<P> +A pretty girl, whose delicate, oval face was half wreathed with waves +of brown curls, leaned over the wheeled chair and kissed the old +gentleman, as she placed some carnations on his lap. +</P> + +<P> +She caught his hand in her own little ones and patted it affectionately. +</P> + +<P> +"You dear daddy. I asked the superintendent of the hospital to let me +in as a special favor to-day, for to-morrow is the regular visiting +day, and I can't come then—neither can Lorna." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, my dear, where are you going?" +</P> + +<P> +The girl hesitated, as she noticed Burke in the wheel-chair so close at +hand. By superhuman effort Bobbie was directing his attention to the +distant roofs, counting the chimneys as he endeavored to keep his mind +off a conversation which did not concern him. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, my dear, excuse me. Mr. Burke, turn around. I'd like to have you +meet my daughter, Mary." +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie willingly took the little hand, feeling a strange embarrassment +as he looked up into a pair of melting blue eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a great pleasure," he began, and then could think of nothing more +to say. Mary hesitated as well, and her father asked eagerly: "Why +can't you girls come here to-morrow, my dear? By another visiting day +I hope to be back home." +</P> + +<P> +"Father, we have——" she hesitated, and Bobbie understood. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd better be wheeling inside, Mr. Barton, and let you have the visit +out here, where it's so nice. It's only my first trip, you know—so +let me call my steersman." +</P> + +<P> +"No secrets, no secrets," began Barton, but Bobbie had beckoned to the +ward attendant. The man came out, and, at Burke's request, started to +wheel him inside. +</P> + +<P> +"Won't you come and visit me, sir, in my little room? I get lonely, +you know, and have a lot of space. I'm so glad to have seen you, Miss +Barton." +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Burke is going to be one of my very good friends, Mary. He's +coming around to see us when I get back home. Won't that be pleasant?" +</P> + +<P> +Mary looked at Bobbie's honest, mobile face, and saw the splendid +manliness which radiated from his earnest, friendly eyes. Perhaps she +saw just a trifle more in those eyes; whatever it was, it was not +displeasing. +</P> + +<P> +She dropped her own gaze, and softly said: +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, father. He will be very welcome, if he is your friend." +</P> + +<P> +On her bosom was a red rose which the florist had given her when she +purchased the flowers for her father. Sometimes even florists are +human, you know. +</P> + +<P> +"Good afternoon; I'll see you later," said Bobbie, cheerily. +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't any flowers, Mr. Burke. May I give you this little one?" +asked Mary, as she unpinned the rose. +</P> + +<P> +Burke flushed. He smiled, bashfully, and old Barton beamed. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," said Bobbie, and the attendant wheeled him on into his own +room. +</P> + +<P> +"Nurse, could you get me a glass of water for this rose?" asked Bobbie. +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly," said the pretty nurse, with a curious glance at the red +blossom. "It's very pretty. It's just a bud and, if you keep it +fresh, will last a long time." +</P> + +<P> +She placed it on the table by his cot. +</P> + +<P> +As she left the room, she looked again at the rose. +</P> + +<P> +Sometimes even nurses are human. +</P> + +<P> +And Bobbie looked at the rose. It was the sweetest rose he had ever +seen. He hoped that it would last a long, long time. +</P> + +<P> +"I will try to keep it fresh," he murmured, as he awkwardly rolled over +into his bed. +</P> + +<P> +Sometimes even policemen are human, too. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE TRAIL OF THE SERPENT +</H4> + +<P> +Officer Burke was back again at his work on the force. He was a trifle +pale, and the hours on patrol duty and fixed post seemed trebly long, +for even his sturdy physique was tardy in recuperating from that +vicious shock at the base of his brain. +</P> + +<P> +"Take it easy, Burke," advised Captain Sawyer, "you have never had a +harder day in uniform than this one. Those two fires, the work at the +lines with the reserves and your patrol in place of Dexter, who is laid +up with his cold, is going it pretty strong." +</P> + +<P> +"That's all right, Captain. I'm much obliged for your interest. But a +little more work to-night won't hurt me. I'll hurry strength along by +keeping up this hustling. People who want to stay sick generally +succeed. Doctor MacFarland is looking after me, so I am not worried." +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie left the house with his comrades to relieve the men on patrol. +</P> + +<P> +It was late afternoon of a balmy spring day. +</P> + +<P> +The weeks since he had been injured had drifted into months, and there +seemed many changes in the little world of the East Side. This store +had failed; that artisan had moved out, and even two or three fruit +dealers whom Bobbie patronized had disappeared. +</P> + +<P> +In the same place stood other stands, managed by Italians who looked +like caricatures drawn by the same artist who limned their predecessors. +</P> + +<P> +"It must be pretty hard for even the Italian Squad to tell all these +fellows apart, Tom," said Bobbie, as they stood on the corner by one of +the stalls. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, lad. All Ginnies look alike to me. Maybe that's why they carve +each other up every now and then at them little shindigs of theirs. +Little family rows, they are, you know. I guess they add a few marks +of identification, just for the family records," replied Tom Dolan, an +old man on the precinct. "However, I get along with 'em all right by +keeping my eye out for trouble and never letting any of 'em get me +first. They're all right, as long as you smile at 'em. But they're +tricky, tricky. And when you hurt a Wop's vanity it's time to get a +half-nelson on your night-stick!" +</P> + +<P> +They separated, Dolan starting down the garbage-strewn side street to +chase a few noisy push-cart merchants who, having no other customers in +view, had congregated to barter over their respective wares. +</P> + +<P> +"Beat it, you!" ordered Dolan. "This ain't no Chamber of Commerce. +Git!" +</P> + +<P> +With muttered imprecation the peddlers pushed on their carts to make +place for a noisy, tuneless hurdy-gurdy. On the pavement at its side a +dozen children congregated—none over ten—to dance the turkey trot and +the "nigger," according to the most approved Bowery artistry of +"spieling." +</P> + +<P> +"Lord, no wonder they fall into the gutter when they grow up," thought +Bobbie. "They're sitting in it from the time they get out of their +swaddling rags." +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie walked up to the nearby fruit merchant. +</P> + +<P> +"How much is this apple, Tony?" +</P> + +<P> +The Italian looked at him warily, and then smirked. +</P> + +<P> +"Eet's nothing toa you, signor. I'ma da policeman's friend. You taka +him." +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie laughed, as he fished out a nickel from his pocket. He shook +his head, as he replied. +</P> + +<P> +"No, Tony, I don't get my apples from the 'policeman's friend.' I can +pay for them. You know all of us policemen aren't grafters—even on +the line of apples and peanuts." +</P> + +<P> +The Italian's eyes grew big. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you'ra de first one dat offer to maka me de pay, justa de same. +Eet's a two centa, eef you insist." +</P> + +<P> +He gave Bobbie his change, and the young man munched away on the fresh +fruit with relish. The Italian gave him a sunny grin, and then +volunteered: +</P> + +<P> +"Youa de new policeman, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have been in the hospital for more than a month, so that's why you +haven't seen me. How long have you been on this corner? There was +another man here when I came this way last." +</P> + +<P> +"Si, signor. That my cousin Beppo. But he's gone back to It'. He had +some money—he wanta to keep eet, so he go while he can." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean by that?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don'ta wanta talk about eet, signor," said the Italian, with a +strange look. "Eet'sa bad to say I was his cousin even." +</P> + +<P> +The dealer looked worried, and naturally Bobbie became curious and more +insistent. +</P> + +<P> +"You can tell me, if it's some trouble. Maybe I can help you some time +if you're afraid of any one." +</P> + +<P> +The Italian shook his head, pessimistically. +</P> + +<P> +"No, signor. Eet'sa better I keep what you call de mum." +</P> + +<P> +"Did he blow up somebody with a bomb? Or was it stiletto work?" asked +Bobbie, as he threw away the core of the apple, to observe it greedily +captured by a small, dirty-faced urchin by the curb. +</P> + +<P> +The fruit merchant looked into Officer Burke's face, and, as others had +done, was inspired by its honesty and candor. He felt that here might +be a friend in time of trouble. Most of the policemen he knew were +austere and cynical. He leaned toward Burke and spoke in a subdued +tone. +</P> + +<P> +"Poor Beppo, he have de broken heart. He was no Black Hand—he woulda +no usa de stiletto on a cheecken, he so kinda, gooda man. He justa +leave disa country to keepa from de suicide." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, that's strange! Tell me about it. Poor fellow!" +</P> + +<P> +"He'sa engag-ed to marry de pretty Maria Cenini, de prettiest girl in +our village, back in It'—excepta my wife. Beppo, he senda on de +money, so she can coma dis country and marry him. Dat wasa four week +ago she shoulda be here. But, signor, whena Beppo go toa de Battery to +meet her froma da Ellis Island bigga boat he no finda her." +</P> + +<P> +"Did she die?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, signor, Beppo, he wisha she hadda died. He tooka de early boat to +meeta her, signor, and soma ona tella de big officier at de Battery +he'sa da cousin of her sweeta heart. She goa wid him, signor, and +Beppo never finda her." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, you don't mean the girl was abducted?" +</P> + +<P> +"Signor, whatever eet was, Beppo hear from one man from our village who +leeve in our village dat he see poor Maria weed her face all paint, and +locked up in de tougha house in Newark two weeks ago. Oh, <I>madre dio</I>, +signor, she's a da bad girl! Beppo, he nearly killa his friend for +tell him, and den he go to Newark to looka for her at de house. But +she gone, and poor Beppo he was de pinched for starting de fight in de +house. He pay twanty-five de dols, and coma back here. De nexta +morning a beeg man come to Beppo, and he say: 'Wop, you geet out dis +place, eef you tella de police about dees girl,' Dassal." +</P> + +<P> +Burke looked into the nervous, twitching face of the poor Italian, and +realized that here was a deeper tragedy than might be guessed by a +passerby. The man's eyes were wet, and he convulsively fumbled at the +corduroy coat, which he had doubtless worn long before he ever sought +the portals of the Land of Liberty. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, signor. Data night Beppo he was talk to de policaman, justa like +me. He say no word, but dat beega man he musta watch, for desa +gang-men dey busta de stand, and dey tella Beppo to geet out or dey +busta heem. Beppo he tell me I can hava de stand eef I pay him some +eacha week. I take it—and now I am afraid de busta me!" +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie laid a comforting hand upon the man's heaving shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"There, don't you worry. Don't tell anyone else you're his cousin, and +I won't either. You don't need to be afraid of these gang-men. Just +be careful and yell for the police. The trouble with you Italians is +that you are afraid to tell the police anything when you are treated +badly. Your cousin should have reported this case to the Ellis Island +authorities. They would have traced that girl and saved her." +</P> + +<P> +The man looked gratefully into Burke's eyes, as the tears ran down his +face. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, signor, eef all de police were lika you we be not afraid." +</P> + +<P> +Just then he dropped his eyes, and Burke noticed that his hand trembled +as he suddenly reached for a big orange and held it up. The man spoke +with a surprising constraint, still holding his look upon the fruit. +</P> + +<P> +"Signor, here's a fine orange. You wanta buy heem?" In a whisper he +added: "Eet is de bigga man who told my cousin to get outa da country!" +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie in astonishment turned around and beheld two pedestrians who +were walking slowly past, both staring curiously at the Italian. +</P> + +<P> +He gave an exclamation of surprise as he noticed that one of the men +was no less a personage than Jimmie the Monk. The man with him was a +big, raw-boned Bowery character of pugilistic build. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, I thought that scoundrel would have been tried and sentenced by +this time," murmured the officer. "I know they told me his case had +been postponed by his lawyer, an alderman. But this is one on me." +</P> + +<P> +The smaller man caught Burke's eye and gave him an insolent laugh. He +even stopped and muttered something to his companion. +</P> + +<P> +Burke's blood was up in an instant. +</P> + +<P> +He advanced quickly toward the tough. Jimmie sneered, as he stood his +ground, confident in the security of his political protection. +</P> + +<P> +"Move on there," snapped Burke. "This is no loafing place." +</P> + +<P> +"Aaaah, go chase sparrers," snarled Jimmie the Monk. "Who ye think yer +talking to, rookie?" +</P> + +<P> +Now, Officer Burke was a peaceful soul, despite his military training. +His short record on the force had been noteworthy for his ability to +disperse several incipient riots, quiet more than one brawl, and tame +several bad men without resorting to rough work. But there was a +rankling in his spirit which overcame the geniality which had been +reigning in his heart so short a time before. +</P> + +<P> +He was tired. He was weak from his recent confinement. But the +fighting blood of English and some Irish ancestors stirred in his veins. +</P> + +<P> +He walked quietly up to the Monk, and his voice was low, his words +calm, as he remarked: "You clear out of this neighborhood. I am going +to put you where you belong the first chance I get. And I don't want +any of your impudence now. Move along." +</P> + +<P> +Jimmie mistook the quiet manner for respect and a timid memory of the +recent retirement from active service. +</P> + +<P> +He spread his legs, and, with a wink to his companion, he began, with +the strident rasp of tone which can seldom be heard above Fourteenth +Street and east of Third Avenue. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, bo. Do you recollect gittin' a little present? Well, listen, +dere's a Christmas tree of dem presents comin' to you ef ye tries any +more of dis stuff. I'm in <I>right</I> in dis district, don't fergit it. +Ye tink's I'm going to de Island? Wipe dat off yer memory, too. W'y, +say, I kin git yer buttons torn off and yer shield put in de scrap heap +by de Commish if I says de woid down on Fourteenth Street, at de +bailiwick." +</P> + +<P> +"I know who was back of the assault on me, Monk, and let me tell you +I'm going to get the man who threw it. Now, you get!" +</P> + +<P> +Burke raised his right hand carelessly to the side of his collar, as he +pressed up close to the gangster. The big man at his side came nearer, +but as the policeman did not raise his club, which swung idly by its +leather thong, to his left wrist, he was as unprepared for what +happened as Jimmie. +</P> + +<P> +"Why you——" began the latter, with at least six ornate oaths which +out-tarred the vocabulary of any jolly, profane tar who ever swore. +</P> + +<P> +Burke's hand, close to his own shoulder, and not eight inches away from +Jimmie's leering jowl, closed into a very hard fist. Before the tough +knew what had hit him that nearby fist had sent him reeling into the +gutter from a short shoulder jab, which had behind it every ounce of +weight in the policeman's swinging body. +</P> + +<P> +Jimmie lay there. +</P> + +<P> +The other man's hand shot to his hip pocket, but the officer's own +revolver was out before he could raise the hand again. Army practice +came handy to Burke in this juncture. +</P> + +<P> +"Keep your hand where it is," exclaimed the policeman, "or you'll get a +bullet through it." +</P> + +<P> +"You dog, I'll get you sent up for this," muttered the big man. +</P> + +<P> +But with his revolver covering the fellow, Burke quickly "frisked" the +hip pocket and discovered the bulk of a weapon. This was enough. +</P> + +<P> +"I fixed the Monk. Now, you're going up for the Sullivan Law against +carrying firearms. You're number one, with me, in settling up this +score!" Jimmie had shown signs of awakening from the slumber induced +by Burke's sturdy right hand. +</P> + +<P> +He pulled himself up as Burke marched his man around the corner. The +Monk hurried, somewhat unsteadily, to the edge of the fruit stand and +looked round it after the two figures. +</P> + +<P> +"Do youse know dat cop, ye damn Ginnie?" muttered Jimmie. +</P> + +<P> +"Signor, no!" replied the fruit dealer, nervously. "I never saw heem +on dis beat before to-day, wenna he buy de apple from me." +</P> + +<P> +Jimmie turned—discretion conquering temporary vengeance, and started +in the opposite direction. He stopped long enough to say, as he rubbed +his bruised jaw, "Well, Wop, ye ain't like to see much more of 'im +around dis dump neither, an' ye ain't likely to see yerself neither, if +ye do too much talkin' wid de cops." +</P> + +<P> +Jimmie hurried up the street to a certain rendezvous to arrange for a +rescue party of some sort. In the meantime Officer 4434 led an +unwilling prisoner to the station house, one hand upon the man's right +arm. His own right hand gripped his stick firmly. +</P> + +<P> +"You make a wiggle and I'm going to give it to you where I got that +brick, only harder," said Burke, softly. +</P> + +<P> +A crowd of urchins, young men and even a few straggling women followed +him with his prisoner. It grew to enormous proportions by the time he +had reached the station house. +</P> + +<P> +As they entered the front room Captain Sawyer looked up from his desk, +where he had been checking up some reports. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, what have we this time, Burke?" +</P> + +<P> +"This man is carrying a revolver in his hip pocket," declared the +officer. "That will take care of him, I suppose." +</P> + +<P> +Dexter, at the captain's direction, searched the man. The revolver was +the first prize. In his pocket was a queer memorandum book. It +contained page after page of girls' names, giving only the first name, +with some curious words in cipher code after each one. In the same +pocket was a long, flat parcel. Dexter handed it to the captain who +opened it gingerly. Inside the officer found at least twenty-five +small packets, all wrapped in white paper. He opened two of these. +They contained a flaky, white powder. +</P> + +<P> +The man looked down as Sawyer gave him a shrewd glance. +</P> + +<P> +"We have a very interesting visitor, Burke. Thanks for bringing him +in. So you're a cocaine peddler?" +</P> + +<P> +The man did not reply. +</P> + +<P> +"Take him out into one of the cells, Dexter. Get all the rest of his +junk and wrap it up. Look through the lining of his clothes and strip +him. This is a good catch, Burke." +</P> + +<P> +The prisoner sullenly ambled along between two policemen, who locked +him up in one of the "pens" in the rear of the front office. Burke +leaned over the desk. +</P> + +<P> +"He was walking with that Jimmie the Monk when I got him. Jimmie acted +ugly, and when I told him to move on he began to curse me." +</P> + +<P> +"What did you do?" +</P> + +<P> +"I handed him an upper-cut. Then this fellow tried to get his gun. +Jimmie will remember me, and I'll get him later, on something. I +didn't want to call out the reserves, so I brought this man right on +over here, and let Jimmie attend to himself. I suppose we'll hear from +him before long." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I see the message coming now," exclaimed Captain Sawyer in a low +tone. "Don't you open your mouth. I'll do the talking now." +</P> + +<P> +As he spoke, Burke followed his eyes and turned around. A large man, +decorated with a shiny silk hat, shinier patent leather shoes of +extreme breadth of beam, a flamboyant waistcoat, and a gold chain from +which dangled a large diamond charm, swaggered into the room, mopping +his red face with a silk handkerchief. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well, captain!" he ejaculated, "what's this I hear about an +officer from this precinct assaulting two peaceful civilians?" +</P> + +<P> +The Captain looked steadily into the puffy face of the speaker. His +steely gray eyes fairly snapped with anger, although his voice was +unruffled as he replied, "You'd better tell me all you heard, and who +you heard it from." +</P> + +<P> +The big man looked at Burke and scowled ominously. It was evident that +Officer 4434 was well known to him, although Bobbie had never seen the +other in his life. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's the fellow. Clubbing one of my district workers—straight +politics, that's what it is, or I should say crooked politics. I'm +going to take this up with the Mayor this very day. You know his +orders about policemen using their clubs." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Alderman, I know that and several other things. I know that this +policeman did not use his club but his fist on one of your ward +heelers, and that was for cursing him in public. He should have +arrested him. I also know that you are the lawyer for this gangster, +Jimmie the Monk. And I know what we have on his friend. You can look +at the blotter if you want. I haven't finished writing it all yet." +</P> + +<P> +The Captain turned the big record-book around on his desk, while the +politician angrily examined it. +</P> + +<P> +"What's that? Carrying weapons, unlawfully? Carrying cocaine? Why, +this is a frame-up. This man Morgan is a law-abiding citizen. You're +trying to send him up to make a record for yourself. I'm going to take +this up with the Mayor as sure as my name is Kelly!" +</P> + +<P> +"Take it up with the United States District Attorney, too, Mr. +Alderman, for I've got some other things on your man Morgan. This +political stuff is beginning to wear out," snapped Sawyer. "There are +too many big citizens getting interested in this dope trade and in the +gang work for you and your Boss to keep it hushed any longer." +</P> + +<P> +He turned to Burke and waved his hand toward the stairway which led to +the dormitory above. +</P> + +<P> +"Go on upstairs, my boy, and rest up a little bit. You're pale. This +has been a hard day, and I'm going to send out White to relieve you. +Take a little rest and then I'll send you up to Men's Night Court with +Morgan, for I want him held over for investigation by the United States +officers." +</P> + +<P> +Alderman Kelly puffed and fumed with excitement. This was getting +beyond his depths. He was a competent artist in the criminal and lower +courts, but his talents for delaying the law of the Federal procedure +were rather slim. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean? I'm going to represent Morgan, and I'll have +something to say about his case at Night Court. I know the magistrate." +</P> + +<P> +Sawyer took out the memorandum book from the little parcel of +"exhibits" removed from the prisoner. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Alderman," Burke heard him say, as he started up the stairs, +"you ought to be pleased to have a long and profitable case. For I +think this is just starting the trail on a round-up of some young men +who have been making money by a little illegal traffic. There are +about four hundred girls' names in this book, and the Chief of +Detectives has a reputation for being able to figure out ciphers." +</P> + +<P> +Alderman Kelly dropped his head, but gazed at Sawyer's grim face from +beneath his heavy brows with a baleful intensity. Then he left the +station house. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +WHAT THE DOCTOR SAID +</H4> + +<P> +Officer Bobbie Burke found the case at the Men's Night Court to be less +difficult than his experience with Dutch Annie and her "friend." The +magistrate disregarded the pleading of Alderman Kelly to show the +"law-abiding" Morgan any leniency. The man was quickly bound over for +investigation by the Grand Jury, upon the representations of Captain +Sawyer, who went in person to look after the matter. +</P> + +<P> +"This man will bear a strict investigation, Mr. Kelly, and I propose to +hold him without bail until the session to-morrow. Your arguments are +of no avail. We have had too much talk and too little actual results +on this trafficking and cocaine business, and I will do what I can to +prevent further delays." +</P> + +<P> +"But, your honor, how about this brutal policeman?" began Kelly, on a +new tack. "Assaulting a peaceful citizen is a serious matter, and I am +prepared to bring charges." +</P> + +<P> +"Bring any you want," curtly said the magistrate. "The officer was +fully justified. If night-sticks instead of political pull were used +on these gun-men our politics would be cleaner and our city would not +be the laughing-stock of the rest of the country. Officer Burke, keep +up your good work, and clean out the district if you can. We need more +of it." +</P> + +<P> +Burke stepped down from the stand, embarrassed but happy, for it was a +satisfaction to know that there were some defenders of the police. He +espied Jimmie the Monk sitting with some of his associates in the rear +of the room, but this time he was prepared for trouble, as he left. +Consequently, there was none. +</P> + +<P> +When he returned to the station house he was too tired to return to his +room in the boarding-house where he lodged, but took advantage of the +proximity of a cot in the dormitory for the reserves. +</P> + +<P> +Next day he was so white and fagged from the hard duty that Captain +Sawyer called up Doctor MacFarland, the police surgeon for the precinct. +</P> + +<P> +When the old Scotchman came over he examined. Burke carefully and +shook his head sternly. +</P> + +<P> +"Young man," said he, "if you want to continue on this work, remember +that you have just come back from a hospital. There has been a bad +shock to your nerves, and if you overdo yourself you will have some +trouble with that head again. You had better ask the Captain for a +little time off—take it easy this next day or two and don't pick any +more fights." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not hunting for trouble, doctor. But, you know, I do get a queer +feeling—maybe it is in my head, from that brick, but it feels in my +heart—whenever I see one of these low scoundrels who live on the +misery of their women. This Jimmie the Monk is one of the worst I have +ever met, and I can't rest easy until I see him landed behind the bars." +</P> + +<P> +"There is no greater curse to our modern civilization than the work of +these men, Burke. It is not so much the terrible lives of the women +whom they enslave; it is the disease which is scattered broadcast, and +carried into the homes of working-men, to be handed to virtuous and +unsuspecting wives, and by heredity to innocent children, visiting, as +the Bible says, 'the iniquities of the fathers unto the third and the +fourth generation.'" +</P> + +<P> +The old doctor sat down dejectedly and rested his chin on his hand, as +he sat talking to Burke in the rear room of the station house. +</P> + +<P> +"Doctor, I've heard a great deal about the white slave traffic, as +every one who keeps his ears open in the big city must. Do you think +the reports are exaggerated?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, my boy. I've been practicing medicine and surgery in New York for +forty years. When I came over here from Scotland the city was no +better than it should have been. But it was an <I>American</I> city +then—not an 'international melting pot,' as the parlor sociologists +proudly call it. The social evil is the oldest profession in the +world; it began when one primitive man wanted that which he could not +win with love, so he offered a bribe. And the bribe was taken, whether +it was a carved amulet or a morsel of game, or a new fashion in furs. +And the woman who took it realized that she could escape the drudgery +of the other women, could obtain more bribes for her loveless barter +... and so it has grown down through the ages." +</P> + +<P> +The old Scotchman lit his pipe. +</P> + +<P> +"I've read hundreds of medical books, and I've had thousands of cases +in real life which have taught me more than my medical books. What +I've learned has not made me any happier, either. Knowledge doesn't +bring you peace of mind on a subject like this. It shows you how much +greed and wickedness and misery there are in the world." +</P> + +<P> +"But, doctor, do you think this white slave traffic is a new +development? We've only heard about it for the last two or three +years, haven't we?" +</P> + +<P> +The physician nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, but it's been there in one form or another. It caused the ruin +of the Roman Empire; it brought the downfall of mediaeval Europe, and +whenever a splendid civilization springs up the curse of sex-bondage in +one form or another grows with it like a cancer." +</P> + +<P> +"But medicine is learning to cure the cancer. Can't it help cure this?" +</P> + +<P> +"We are getting near the cure for cancer, maybe near the cure for this +cancer as well. Sex-bondage was the great curse of negro slavery in +the United States; it was the thing which brought misery on the South, +in the carpet-bag days, as a retribution for the sins of the fathers. +We cured that and the South is bigger and better for that terrible +surgical operation than it ever was before. But this latest +development—organized capture of ignorant, weak, pretty girls, to be +held in slavery by one man or by a band of men and a few debauched old +hags, is comparatively a new thing in America. It has been caused by +the swarms of ignorant emigrants, by the demand of the lowest classes +of those emigrants and the Americans they influence for a satisfaction +of their lust. It is made easy by the crass ignorance of the country +girls, the emigrant girls, and by the drudgery and misery of the +working girls in the big cities." +</P> + +<P> +"I saw two cases in Night Court, Doc, which explained a whole lot to +me—drunken fathers and brutal husbands who poisoned their own +wives—it taught that not all the blame rests upon the weakness of the +women." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course it doesn't," exclaimed MacFarland impetuously. "It rests +upon Nature, and the way our boasted Society is mistreating Nature. +Woman is weaker than man when it comes to brute force; you know it is +force which does rule the world when you do get down to it, in +government, in property, in business, in education—it is all survival +of the strongest, not always of the fittest. A woman should be in the +home; she can raise babies, for which Nature intended her. She can +rule the world through her children, but when she gets out to fight +hand to hand with man in the work-world she is outclassed. She can't +stand the physical strain thirty days in the month; she can't stand the +starvation, the mistreatment, the battling that a man gets in the +world. She needs tenderness and care, for you know every normal woman +is a mother-to-be—and that is the most wonderful thing in the world, +the most beautiful. When the woman comes up against the stone wall of +competition with men her weakness asserts itself. That's why good +women fall. It's not the 'easiest way'—it's just forced upon them. +As for the naturally bad women—well, that has come from some trait of +another generation, some weakness which has been increased instead of +cured by all this twisted, tangled thing we call modern civilization." +</P> + +<P> +The doctor sighed. +</P> + +<P> +"There are a lot of women in the world right now, Burke, who are +fighting for what they call the 'Feminist Movement'. They don't want +homes; they want men's jobs. They don't want to raise their babies in +the old-fashioned way; they want the State to raise them with trained +nurses and breakfast food. They don't see anything beautiful in home +life, and cooking, and loving their husbands. They want the lecture +platform (and the gate-receipts); they want to run the government, they +want men to be breeders, like the drones in the beehive, and they don't +want to be tied to one man for life. They want to visit around. The +worst of it is that they are clever, they write well, they talk well, +and they interest the women who are really normal, who only half-read, +only half-analyze, and only get a part of the idea! These normal women +are devoting, as they should, most of their energies to the normal +things of woman life—children, home, charity, and neighborliness. But +the clever feminist revolutionists are giving them just enough argument +to make them dissatisfied. They flatter the domestic woman by telling +her she is not enough appreciated, and that she should control the +country. They lead the younger women away from the old ideals of love +and home and religion; in their place they would substitute +selfishness, loose morals, and will change the chivalry, which it has +taken men a thousand years to cultivate, into brutal methods, when men +realize that women want absolute equality. Then, should such a +condition ever be accepted by society in general, we will do away with +the present kind of social evil—to have a tidal wave of lust." +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie listened with interest. It was evident that Doctor MacFarland +was opening up a subject close to his heart. The old man's eyes +sparkled as he continued. +</P> + +<P> +"You asked about the traffic in women, as we hear of it in New York. +Well, the only way we can cure it is to educate the men of all classes +so that for reasons moral, sanitary, and feelings of honest pride in +themselves they will not patronize the market where souls are sought. +This can't be done by passing laws, but by better books, better ways of +amusement, better living conditions for working people, so that they +will not be 'driven to drink' and what follows it to forget their +troubles. Better factories and kinder treatment to the great number of +workmen, with fairer wage scale would bring nearer the possibility of +marriage—which takes not one, but two people out of the danger of the +gutter. Minimum wage scales and protection of working women would make +the condition of their lives better, so that they would not be forced +into the streets and brothels to make their livings. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Burke, a magistrate who sits in Night Court has told me that +medical investigation of the street-walkers he has sentenced revealed +the fact that nine of every ten were diseased. When the men who +foolishly think they are good 'sports' by debauching with these women +learn that they are throwing away the health of their wives and +children to come, as well as risking the contagion of diseases which +can only be bottled up by medical treatment but never completely cured; +when it gets down to the question of men buying and selling these poor +women as they undoubtedly do, the only way to check that is for every +decent man in the country to help in the fight. It is a man evil; men +must slay it. Every procurer in the country should be sent to prison, +and every house of ill fame should be closed." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you think the traffic would go on just the same, doctor? I have +heard it said that in European cities the authorities confined such +women to certain parts of the city. Then they are subjected to medical +examination as well." +</P> + +<P> +"No, Burke, segregation will not cure it. Many of the cities abroad +have given that up. The medical examinations are no true test, for +they are only partially carried out—not all the women will admit their +sinful ways of life, nor submit to control by the government. The +system prevails in Paris and in Germany, and there is more disease +there than in any other part of Europe. Men, depending upon the +imaginary security of a doctor's examination card, abandon themselves +the more readily, and caution is thrown to the winds, with the result +that a woman who has been O.K.'d by a government physician one day may +contract a disease and spread it the very next day. You can depend +upon it that if she has done so she will evade the examination next +time in order not to interfere with her trade profits. So, there you +are. This is an ugly theme, but we must treat it scientifically. +</P> + +<P> +"You know it used to be considered vulgar to talk about the stomach and +other organs which God gave us for the maintenance of life. But when +folks began to realize that two-thirds of the sickness in the world, +contagious and otherwise, resulted from trouble with the stomach, that +false modesty had to give way. Consequently to-day we have fewer +epidemics, much better general health, because men and women understand +how to cure many of their own ailments with prompt action and simple +methods. +</P> + +<P> +"The vice problem is one which reaps its richest harvest when it is +protected from the sunlight. Sewers are not pleasant table-talk, but +they must be watched and attended by scientific sanitary engineers. A +cancer of the intestines is disagreeable to think about. But when it +threatens a patient's life the patient should know the truth and the +doctor should operate. Modern society is the patient, and +death-dealing sex crimes are the cancerous growth, which must be +operated upon. Whenever we allow a neighborhood to maintain houses of +prostitution, thus regulating and in a way sanctioning the evil, we are +granting a sort of corporation charter for an industry which is run +upon business methods. And business, you know, is based upon filling +the 'demand,' with the necessary 'supply.' And the manufacturers, in +this case, are the procurers and the proprietresses of these houses. +There comes in the business of recruiting—and hence the traffic in +souls, as it has aptly been called. No, my boy, government regulation +will never serve man, nor woman, for it cannot cover all the ground. +As long as women are reckless, lazy and greedy, yielding to temporary, +half-pleasant sin rather than live by work, you will find men with low +ideals in all ranks of life who prefer such illicit 'fun' to the +sweetness of wedlock! Why, Burke, sex is the most beautiful thing in +the world—it puts the blossoms on the trees, it colors the +butterflies' wings, it sweetens the songs of the birds, and it should +make life worth living for the worker in the trench, the factory hand, +the office toiler and the millionaire. But it will never do so until +people understand it, know how to guard it with decent knowledge, and +sanctify it morally and hygienically." +</P> + +<P> +The old doctor rose and knocked the ashes out of his briar pipe. He +looked at the eager face of the young officer. +</P> + +<P> +"But there, I'm getting old, for I yield to the melody of my own voice +too much. I've got office hours, you know, and I'd better get back to +my pillboxes. Just excuse an old man who is too talkative sometimes, +but remember that what I've said to you is not my own old-fashioned +notion, but a little boiled-down philosophy from the writings of the +greatest modern scientists." +</P> + +<P> +"Good-bye, Doctor MacFarland. I'll not forget it. It has answered a +lot of questions in my mind." +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie went to the front door of the station house with the old +gentleman, and saluted as a farewell. +</P> + +<P> +"What's he been chinning to you about, Burke?" queried the Captain. +"Some of his ideas of reforming the world? He's a great old character, +is Doc." +</P> + +<P> +"I think he knows a lot more about religion than a good many ministers +I've heard," replied Bobbie. "He ought to talk to a few of them." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure. But they wouldn't listen if he did. They're too busy getting +money to send to the heathens in China, and the niggers in Africa to +bother about the heathens and poor devils here. I'm pretty strong for +Doc MacFarland, even though I don't get all he's talking about." +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Burke, the Doc got after me one day and gave me a string of books +as long as your arm to read," put in Dexter. "He seems to think a cop +ought to have as much time to read as a college boy!" +</P> + +<P> +"You let me have the list, Dexter, and I'll coach you up on it," +laughed Burke. +</P> + +<P> +"To-day is your relief, Burke," said the Captain. "You can go up to +the library and wallow in literature if you want to." +</P> + +<P> +Burke smiled, as he retorted: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to a better place to do my reading—and not out of books +either, Cap." +</P> + +<P> +He changed his clothes, and soon emerged in civilian garb. He had +never paid his call on John Barton, although he had been out of the +hospital for several days. The old man's frequent visits to him in his +private room at the hospital, after that first memorable meeting, had +ripened their friendship. Barton had told him of a number of new ideas +in electrical appliances, and Burke was anxious to see what progress +had been made since the old fellow returned to his home. +</P> + +<P> +Officer 4434 was also anxious to see another member of his family, and +so it was with a curious little thrill of excitement, well concealed, +however, with which he entered the modest apartment of the Bartons' +that evening. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well, well!" exclaimed the old man, as the young officer took +his hand. "We thought you had forgotten us completely. Mary has asked +me several times if you had been up to see me. I suppose you have been +busy with those gangsters, and keep pretty close since you returned to +active service." +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir. They are always with us, you know. And a policeman does +not have very much time to himself, particularly if he lolls around in +bed with a throb in the back of the head, during his off hours, as I've +been foolish enough to do." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, how are you feeling, Mr. Burke?" exclaimed Mary, as she entered +from the rear room. +</P> + +<P> +She held out her hand, and Bobbie trembled a trifle as he took her +soft, warm fingers in his own. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm improving, and don't believe I was ever laid up—it was just +imagination on my part," answered Burke. "But I have a faded rose to +make me remember that some of it was a pleasant imagination, at any +rate." +</P> + +<P> +Mary laughed softly, and dropped her eyes ever so slightly. But the +action betrayed that she had not forgotten either. +</P> + +<P> +Old Barton busied himself with some papers on a table by the side of +his wheel-chair, for he was a diplomat. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, now, Mr. Burke—what are your adventures? I read every day of +some policeman jumping off a dock in the East River to rescue a +suicide, or dragging twenty people out of a burning tenement, and am +afraid that it's you. It's all right to be a hero, you know, but +there's a great deal of truth in that old saying about it being better +to have people remark, 'There he goes,' than 'Doesn't he look natural.'" +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie took the comfortable armchair which Mary drew up. +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't had anything really worth while telling about," said Burke. +"I see a lot of sad things, and it makes a man feel as though he were a +poor thing not to be able to improve conditions." +</P> + +<P> +"That's true of every walk in life. But most people don't look at the +sad any longer than they can help. I've not been having a very jolly +time of it myself, but I hope for a lot of good news before long. Why +don't you bring Lorna in to meet Mr. Burke, Mary?" +</P> + +<P> +The girl excused herself, and retired. +</P> + +<P> +"How are your patents?" asked Bobbie, with interest. "I hope you can +show tricks to the Gresham people." +</P> + +<P> +The old man sighed. He took up some drawings and opened a little +drawer in the table. +</P> + +<P> +"No, Mr. Burke, I am afraid my tricks will be slow. I have received no +letter from young Gresham in reply to one I wrote him, asking to be +given a salary for mechanical work here in my home. Every bit of my +savings has been exhausted. You know I educated my daughters to the +limit of my earnings, since my dear wife died. They have hard sledding +in front of them for a while, I fear." +</P> + +<P> +He hesitated, and then continued: +</P> + +<P> +"Do you remember the day you met Mary? She started to say that she and +Lorna could not see me on visiting day. Well, the dear girls had +secured a position as clerks in Monnarde's big candy store up on Fifth +Avenue. They talked it over between them, and decided that it was +better for them to get to work, to relieve my mind of worry. It's the +first time they ever worked, and they are sticking to it gamely. But +it makes me feel terribly. Their mother never had to work, and I feel +as though I have been a failure in life—to have done as much as I +have, and yet not have enough in my old age to protect them from the +world." +</P> + +<P> +"There, there, Mr. Barton. I don't agree with you. There is no +disgrace in womanly work; it proves what a girl is worth. She learns +the value of money, which before that had merely come to her without a +question from her parents. And you have been a splendid father ... +that's easily seen from the fine sort of girl Miss Mary is." +</P> + +<P> +Mary had stepped into the room with her younger sister as he spoke. +They hesitated at the kindly words, and Mary drew her sister back +again, her face suffused with a rosiness which was far from unhappy in +its meaning. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I am very proud of Mary and Lorna. If this particular scheme +works out they will be able to buy their candy at Monnarde's instead of +selling it." +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie rose and leaned over the table. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it? I'm not very good at getting mechanical drawings. It +looks as though it ought to be very important from all the wheels," he +said, with a smile of interest. +</P> + +<P> +Spreading out the largest of his drawings, old Barton pointed out the +different lines. +</P> + +<P> +"This may look like a mince pie of cogs here, but when it is put into +shape it will be a simple little arrangement. This is a recording +instrument which combines the phonograph and the dictagraph. One +purpose—the most practical, is that a business man may dictate his +letters and memoranda while sitting at his desk, in his office, instead +of having a machine with a phonograph in his private office taking up +space and requiring the changing of records by the dictator—which is +necessary with the present business phonograph. All that will be +necessary is for him to speak into a little disc. The sound waves are +carried by a simple arrangement of wiring into his outer office, or +wherever his stenographer works. There, where the space is presumably +cheaper and easier of access than the private office, the receiving end +of the machine is located. Instead of one disc at a time—limited to a +certain number of letters—the machine has a magazine of discs, +something like the idea of a repeating letter. Automatically the disc, +which is filled, is moved up and a fresh disc takes its place. This +goes on indefinitely, as you might say. A man can dictate two hundred +letters, speaking as rapidly as he thinks. He never has to bother over +changing his records. The girl at the other end of the wire does that +when the machine registers that the supply is being exhausted. She in +turn uses the discs on the regular business phonograph, or, as this is +intended for large offices, where there are a great many letters, and +consequently a number of stenographers, she can assign the records to +the different typists." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, that is wonderful, Mr. Barton!" exclaimed Burke. "It ought to +make a fortune for you if it is backed and financed right. Why didn't +anyone think of it before?" +</P> + +<P> +Barton smiled, and caressed his drawing affectionately. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Burke, the Patent Office is maintained for men who think up things +that some fellow should have thought of before! The greatest +inventions are apparently the simplest. That's what makes them hard to +invent!" +</P> + +<P> +He pointed to another drawing. +</P> + +<P> +"That has a business value, too, and I hope to get the proper support +when I have completed my models. You know, a scientific man can see +all these things on the paper, but to the man with money they are pipe +dreams until he sees the wheels go 'round." +</P> + +<P> +He now held out his second drawing, which was easier to understand, for +it was a sketch of his appliance, showing the outer appearance, and +giving a diagonal section of a desk or room, with a wire running +through a wall into another compartment. +</P> + +<P> +"Here is where the scientist yields to his temperament and wastes a lot +of time on something which probably will never bring him a cent. This +is a combination of my record machine, which will be of interest to +your profession." +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie examined it closely, but could not divine its purpose. +</P> + +<P> +"It is the application of the phonographic record to the dictagraph, so +that police and detective work can be absolutely recorded, without the +shadow of a doubt remaining in the minds of a trial jury or judge. +Maybe this is boring you?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, no—go on!" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, when dictagraphs are used for the discovery of criminals it has +been necessary to keep expert stenographers, and at least one other +witness at the end of the wire to put down the record. Frequently the +stenographer cannot take the words spoken as fast as he should to make +the record. Sometimes it is impossible to get the stenographer and the +witness on the wire at the exact time. Of course, this is only a crazy +idea. But it seems to me that by a little additional appliance which I +have planned, the record machine could be put into a room nearby, or +even another house. If a certain place were under suspicion the +machine could rest with more ease, less food and on smaller wages than +a detective and stenographer on salary. When any one started to talk +in this suspected room the vibrations of the voices would start a +certain connection going through this additional wire, which would set +the phonograph into action. As long as the conversation continued the +records would be running continuously. No matter how rapidly words are +uttered the phonograph would get them, and could be run, for further +investigation, as slowly and as many times as desired. When the +conversation stopped the machine would automatically blow its own +dinner whistle and adjourn the meeting until the talk began again. +This would take the record of at least an hour's conversation: another +attachment would send in a still-alarm to the detective agency or +police station, so that within that hour a man could be on the job with +a new supply of records and bait the trap again." +</P> + +<P> +"Wonderful!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, and the most important part is that this is the only way of +keeping a record which cannot be called a 'frame-up'—for it is a +photograph of the sound waves. A grafter, a murderer, or any other +criminal could be made to speak the same words in court as were put on +the phonographic record, and his voice identified beyond the shadow of +a doubt!" +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie clapped his hand on the old man's shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Mr. Barton, that is the greatest invention ever made for +capturing and convicting criminals. It's wonderful! The Police +Departments of the big cities should buy enough machines to make you +rich, for you could demand your own price." +</P> + +<P> +Barton looked dreamily toward the window, through which twinkled the +distant lights of the city streets. +</P> + +<P> +"I want money, Burke, as every sane man does. But this pet of mine +means more than money. I want to contribute my share to justice just +as you do yours. Who knows, some day it may reward me in a way which +no money could ever repay. You never can tell about such things. Who +knows?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +ROSES AND THORNS +</H4> + +<P> +Mary's sister was as winsome and fair as she, but to Burke's keen eyes +she was a weaker girl. There was a suggestion of too much attention to +dress, a self-consciousness tinged with self-appreciation. +</P> + +<P> +When she was introduced to Bobbie he could feel instinctively an +under-current of condescension, ever so slight, yet perceptible to the +sensitive young fellow. +</P> + +<P> +"You're the first policeman I've ever met," began Lorna, with a smile, +"and I really don't half believe you are one. I always think of them +as swinging clubs and taking a handful of peanuts off a stand, as they +walk past a corner cart. Really, I do." +</P> + +<P> +Burke reddened, but retorted, amiably enough. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't like peanuts, for they always remind me of the Zoo, and I +never liked Zoos! But I plead guilty to swinging a club when occasion +demands. You know even millionaires have their clubs, and so you can't +deny us the privilege, can you?" +</P> + +<P> +Lorna laughed, and gracefully pushed back a stray curl with her pretty +hand. Mary frowned a bit, but trusted that Bobbie had not noticed the +lack of tact. +</P> + +<P> +"I've seen policemen tugging at a horse's head and getting nearly +trampled to death to save some children in a runaway carriage. That +was on Fifth Avenue yesterday, just when we quit work, Lorna." She +emphasized the word "work," and Bobbie liked her the more for it. +"And, last winter, I saw two of them taking people out on a +fire-escape, wet, and covered with icicles, in a big fire over there on +Manhattan Avenue. They didn't look a bit romantic, Lorna, and they +even had red faces and pug noses. But I think that's a pleasanter +memory than shoplifting from peanut stands." +</P> + +<P> +Lorna smiled winningly, however, and sat down, not without a decorative +adjustment of her pretty silk dress. Bobbie forgave her, principally +because she looked so much like Mary. +</P> + +<P> +They chatted as young people will, while old Barton mumbled and studied +over his drawings, occasionally adding a detail, and calculating on a +pad as though he were working out some problem in algebra. +</P> + +<P> +Lorna's chief topic was the theater and dancing. +</P> + +<P> +Mary endeavored to bring the conversation around to other things. +</P> + +<P> +"I have to admit that I'm very green on theaters, Miss Barton," said +Bobbie to the younger sister. "I love serious plays, and these +old-fashioned kind of comedies, which teach a fellow that there's some +happiness in life——but, I don't get the time to attend them. My +station is down on the East Side, and I see so much tragedy and +unhappiness that it has given me about all the real-life plays I could +want, since I came to the police work." +</P> + +<P> +Lorna scoffed, and tossed her curls. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I don't like that stupid old stuff myself. I like the musical +comedies that have dancing, and French dresses, and cleverness. I +think all the serious plays nowadays are nothing but scandal—a girl +can't go to see them without blushing and wishing she were at home." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't agree with you, Lorna. There are some things in life that a +girl should learn. An unpleasant play is likely to leave a bad taste +in one's mouth, but that bad taste may save her from thinking that evil +can be honey-coated and harmless. Why, the show we saw the other +night—those costumes, those dances, and the songs! There was nothing +left to imagine. They stop serious plays, and ministers preach sermons +about them, while the musical comedies that some of the managers +produce are a thousand times worse, for they teach only a bad lesson." +</P> + +<P> +As Lorna started to reply the bell rang and Mary went to the door. +</P> + +<P> +Two young men were outside and, at Mary's stiff invitation, they +entered. Burke rose, politely. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, how do you do, Mr. Baxter?" exclaimed Lorna, enthusiastically, as +she extended one hand and arranged that disobedient lock of hair with +the other. "Come right in, this is such a pleasant surprise." +</P> + +<P> +Baxter advanced, and introduced his companion. +</P> + +<P> +"This is my friend, Reggie Craig, Miss Barton. We're just on our way +down to Dawley's for a little supper and a dance afterward. You know +they have some great tangoing there, and I know you like it." +</P> + +<P> +Lorna introduced Craig and Baxter to the others. As she came to Bobbie +she said, "This is Mr. Burke. You wouldn't believe it, but he is a——" +</P> + +<P> +"Friend of father's," interrupted Mary, with a look which did not +escape either Bobbie or Lorna. "Won't you sit down, gentlemen?" +</P> + +<P> +Burke was studying the two men with his usual rapidity of observation. +</P> + +<P> +Baxter was tall, with dark, curly hair, carefully plastered straight +back from a low, narrow forehead. His grooming was immaculate: his +"extreme" cutaway coat showed a good physique, but the pallor of the +face above it bespoke dissipation of the strength of that natural +endowment. His shoes, embellished with pearl buttons set with +rhinestones, were of the latest vogue, described in the man-who-saw +column of the theater programmes. He looked, for all the world, like +an advertisement for ready-tailored suitings. +</P> + +<P> +His companion was slighter in build but equally fastidious in +appearance. When he drew a handkerchief from his cuff Bobbie completed +the survey and walked over toward old Barton, to look at the more +interesting drawings. +</P> + +<P> +"You girls must come along to Dawley's, you simply must, you know," +began Baxter, still standing. "Of course, we'd be glad to have your +father's friend, if he likes dancing." +</P> + +<P> +"That's very kind of you, but you know I've a lot to talk about with +Mr. Barton," answered Bobbie, quietly. +</P> + +<P> +"May we go, father?" asked Lorna, impetuously. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I thought," said the old gentleman, "I thought that you'd——" +</P> + +<P> +"Father, I haven't been to a dance or a supper since you were injured. +You know that," pouted Lorna. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you want to do, Mary dear?" asked the old man, helplessly. +</P> + +<P> +"It's very kind of Mr. Baxter, but you know we have a guest." +</P> + +<P> +Mary quietly sat down, while Lorna's temper flared. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'm going anyway. I'm tired of working and worrying. I want to +have pleasure and music and entertainment like thousands of other girls +in New York. I owe it to myself. I don't intend to sit around here +and talk about tenement fires and silly old patents." +</P> + +<P> +Burke was embarrassed, but not so the visiting fashion plates. Baxter +and Craig merely smiled at each other with studied nonchalance; they +seemed used to such scenes, thought Bobbie. +</P> + +<P> +Lorna flounced angrily from the room, while her father wiped his +forehead with a trembling hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Lorna," he expostulated weakly. But Lorna reappeared with a +pretty evening wrap and her hat in her hand. She donned the hat, +twisting it to a coquettish angle, and Baxter unctuously assisted her +to place the wrap about her shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"Lorna, I forbid your going out at this time of the evening with two +gentlemen we have never met before," cried Mary. +</P> + +<P> +But Lorna opened the door and wilfully left the room, followed by +Craig. Baxter turned as he left, and smiled sarcastically. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-<I>night</I>!" he remarked, with a significant accent on the last word. +</P> + +<P> +Mary's face was white, as she looked appealingly at Burke. He tried to +comfort her in his quiet way. +</P> + +<P> +"I wouldn't worry, Miss Mary. I think they are nice young fellows, and +you know young girls are the same the world over. I am sure they are +all right, and will look after her—you know, some people do think a +whole lot of dancing and jolly company, and it is punishment for them +to have to talk all the time on serious things. I don't blame her, for +I'm poor company—and only a policeman, after all." +</P> + +<P> +John Barton looked disconsolately at the door which had slammed after +the trio. +</P> + +<P> +"You do think it's all right, don't you, Burke?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, certainly," said Burke. He lied like a gentleman and a soldier. +</P> + +<P> +Old Barton was ill at ease, although he endeavored to cover his anxiety +with his usual optimism. +</P> + +<P> +"We are too hard on the youngsters, I fear," he began. "It's true that +Lorna has not had very much pleasure since I was injured. The poor +child has had many sleepless nights of worry since then, as well. You +know she has always been our baby, while my Mary here has been the +little mother since my dear wife left us." +</P> + +<P> +Mary forced a smiling reply: "You dear daddy, don't worry. I know +Lorna's fine qualities, and I wish we could entertain more for her than +we do right in our little flat. That's one of the causes of New York's +unnatural life. In the small towns and suburbs girls have porches and +big parlors, while they live in a surrounding of trees and flowers. +They have home music, jolly gatherings about their own pianos; we can't +afford even to rent a piano just now. So, there, daddy, be patient and +forgive Lorna's thoughtlessness." +</P> + +<P> +Barton's face beamed again, as he caressed his daughter's soft brown +curls, when she leaned over his chair to kiss him. +</P> + +<P> +"My blessed little Mary: you are as old as your mother—as old as all +motherhood, in your wisdom. I feel more foolishly a boy each day, as I +realize the depth of your devotion and love." +</P> + +<P> +Burke's eyes filled with tears, which he manfully wiped away with a +sneaking little movement of his left hand, as he pretended to look out +of the window toward the distant lights. A man whose tear-ducts have +dried with adolescence is cursed with a shriveled soul for the rest of +his life. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, we mustn't let our little worry make you feel badly, Mr. Burke. +Do you know, I've been thinking about a little matter in which you are +concerned? Why don't you have your interests looked after in your home +town?" +</P> + +<P> +"My uncle? Well, I am afraid that's a lost cause. I went to the +family lawyer when I returned from my army service, and he charged me +five dollars for advising me to let the matter go. He said that law +was law, and that the whole matter had been ended, that I had no +recourse. I think I'll just stick to my work, and let my uncle get +what pleasure he can out of his treatment of me." +</P> + +<P> +"That is a great mistake. If he was your family lawyer, it is very +possible that your uncle anticipated your going to him. And some +lawyers have elastic notions of what is possible—depending upon the +size of your fee. Now, I have a young friend down town. He is a +patent lawyer, and I trust him. Why don't you let him look into this +matter. I have given him other cases before, through my connections +with the Greshams. He proved honorable and energetic. Let me write +you out a letter of introduction." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps you are right. I appreciate your advice and it will do no +harm to let him try his best," said Bobbie. "I'll give him the facts +and let him investigate matters." +</P> + +<P> +The old man wrote a note while Burke and Mary became better acquainted. +Even in her attempt to speak gaily and happily, Bobbie could discern +her worriment. As Barton finished his writing, handing the envelope to +Burke, the younger man decided to take a little initiative of his own. +</P> + +<P> +"It's late, Mr. Barton. I have had a pleasant evening, and I hope I +may have many more. But you know I promised Doctor MacFarland, the +police surgeon, that I would go to bed early on the days when I was off +duty. So I had better be getting back down town." +</P> + +<P> +They protested cordially, but Bobbie was soon out on the street, +walking toward the Subway. +</P> + +<P> +He did not take the train for his own neighborhood, however. Instead +he boarded a local which stopped at Sixty-sixth Street, the heart of +what is called the "New Tenderloin." +</P> + +<P> +In this district are dozens of dance halls, flashy restaurants and +<I>cafés chantantes</I>. A block from the Subway exit was the well-known +establishment called "Dawley's." This was the destination of Baxter +and Craig, with Lorna Barton. Bobbie thought it well to take an +observation of the social activities of these two young men. +</P> + +<P> +He entered the big, glittering room, his coat and hat rudely jerked +from his arms by a Greek check boy, at the doorway, without the useless +formula of request. +</P> + +<P> +The tables were arranged about the walls, leaving an open space in the +center for dancing. Nearly every chair was filled, while the popping +of corks and the clinking of glasses even so early in the evening +testified to the popularity of Dawley's. +</P> + +<P> +"They seem to prefer this sort of thing to theaters," thought Bobbie. +"Anyway, this crowd is funnier than most comedies I've seen." +</P> + +<P> +He looked around him, after being led to a corner seat by the +obsequious head waiter. There was a preponderance of fat old men and +vacuous looking young girls of the type designated on Broadway as +"chickens." Here and there a slumming party was to be seen—elderly +women and ill-at-ease men, staring curiously at the diners and dancers; +young married couples who seemed to be enjoying their self-thrilled +deviltry and new-found freedom. An orchestra of negro musicians were +rattling away on banjos, mandolins, and singing obligatos in +deep-voiced improvisations. The drummer and the cymbalist were the +busiest of all; their rattling, clanging, banging addition to the music +gave it an irresistible rhythmic cadence. Even Burke felt the call of +the dance, until he studied the evolutions of the merrymakers. Oddly +assorted couples, some in elaborate evening dress, women in +shoulderless, sleeveless, backless gowns, men in dinner-coats, girls in +street clothes with yard-long feathers, youths in check suits, old men +in staid business frock coats—what a motley throng! All were busily +engaged in the orgy of a bacchanalian dance in which couples reeled and +writhed, cheek to cheek, feet intertwining, arms about shoulders. +Instead of enjoying themselves the men seemed largely engaged in +counting their steps, and watching their own feet whenever possible: +the girls kept their eyes, for the most part, upon the mirrors which +covered the walls, each watching her poises and swings, her hat, her +curls, her lips, with obvious complacency. +</P> + +<P> +Burke was nauseated, for instead of the old-time fun of a jolly dance, +this seemed some weird, unnatural, bestial, ritualistic evolution. +</P> + +<P> +"And they call this dancing?" he muttered. "But, I wonder where Miss +Lorna is?" +</P> + +<P> +He finally espied her, dancing with Baxter. The latter was swinging +his arms and body in a snakey, serpentine one-step, as he glided down +the floor, pushing other couples out of the way. Lorna, like the other +girls, lost no opportunity to admire her own reflection in the mirrors. +</P> + +<P> +Burke was tempted to rush forward and intercede, to pull her out of the +arms of the repulsive Baxter. But he knew how foolish he would appear, +and what would be the result of such an action. +</P> + +<P> +As he looked the waiter approached for his order. +</P> + +<P> +Burke took the menu, decorated with dancing figures which would have +seemed more appropriate for some masquerade ball poster, for the Latin +Quarter, and began to read the <I>entrees</I>. +</P> + +<P> +As he looked down two men brushed past his table, and a sidelong glance +gave him view of a face which made him quickly forget the choice of +food. +</P> + +<P> +It was Jimmie the Monk, flashily dressed, debonnaire as one to the +manor born, talking with Craig, the companion of Baxter. +</P> + +<P> +Burke held the menu card before his face. He was curious to hear the +topic of their conversation. When he did so—the words were clear and +distinct, as Baxter and Jimmie sat down at a table behind him—his +heart bounded with horror. +</P> + +<P> +"Who's dis new skirt, Craig?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it's a kid Baxter picked up in Monnarde's candy store. It's the +best one he's landed yet, but we nearly got in Dutch to-night when we +went up to her flat to bring her out. Her old man and her sister were +there with some nut, and they didn't want her to go. But Baxter +"lamped" her, and she fell for his eyes and sneaked out anyway. You +better keep off, Jimmie, for you don't look like a college boy—and +that's the gag Baxter's been giving her. She thinks she's going to a +dance at the Yale Club next week. It's harder game than the last one, +but we'll get it fixed to-night. You better send word to Izzie to +bring up his taxi—in about an hour." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll go now, Craig. Tell Baxter dat it'll be fixed. Where'll he take +her?" +</P> + +<P> +Craig replied in a low tone, which thwarted Burke's attempt to +eavesdrop. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE WORK OF THE GANGSTERS +</H4> + +<P> +Bobbie Burke's eyes sparkled with the flame of battle spirit, yet he +maintained an outward calm. He turned his face toward the wall of the +restaurant while Jimmie the Monk tripped nonchalantly out into the +street. Burke did not wish to be recognized too soon. The negro +musicians struck up a livelier tune than before. The dancing couples +bobbed and writhed in the sensuous, shameless intimacies of the +demi-mondaine bacchante. The waiters merrily juggled trays, stacked +skillfully with vari-colored drinks, and bumped the knees of the +close-sitting guests with silvered champagne buckets. Popping corks +resounded like the distant musketry of the crack sharp-shooters of the +Devil's Own. Indeed, this was an ambuscade of the greatest, oldest, +cruellest, most blood-thirsty conflict of civilized history—the War of +the Roses—the Massacre of the Innocents! In Bobbie's ears the +jangling tambourine, the weird splutterings of the banjos, the twanging +of the guitars, the shrill music of the violins and clarionet, the +monotonous rag-time pom-pom of the piano accompanist, the clash and +bang of cymbal and base-drum, the coarse minor cadences of the negro +singers—all so essential to cabaret dancing of this class—sounded +like the war pibroch of a Satanic clan of reincarnate fiends. +</P> + +<P> +The waiter was serving some savory viands, for such establishments +cater cleverly to the beast of the dining room as well as of the +boudoir. +</P> + +<P> +But Burke was in no mood to eat or drink. His soul was sickened, but +his mind was working with lightning acumen. +</P> + +<P> +"Bring me my check now as I may have to leave before you come around +again," he directed his waiter. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir, certainly," responded the Tenderloin Dionysius, not without +a shade of regret in his cackling voice. Early eaters and short +stayers reduced the percentage on tips, while moderate orders of drinks +meant immoderate thrift—to the waiter. +</P> + +<P> +The check was forthcoming at once. Burke quietly corrected the +addition of the items to the apparent astonishment of the waiter. He +produced the exact change, while a thunder-storm seemed imminent on the +face of his servitor. Burke, however, drew forth a dollar bill from +his pocket, and placed it with the other change, smiling significantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, sir, thank you"—began the waiter, surprised into the strictly +unprofessional weakness of an appreciation. +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie, with a left-ward twitch of his head, and a slight quiver of the +lid of his left eye, brought an attentive ear close to his mouth. +</P> + +<P> +"My boy, I want you to go outside and have the taxicab starter reserve +a machine for 'Mr. Green.' Tell him to have it run forward and clear +of the awning in front of the restaurant—slip him this other dollar, +now, and impress on him that I want that car about twenty-five feet to +the right of the door as you go out." +</P> + +<P> +The waiter nodded, and leered slyly. +</P> + +<P> +"All right, sir—I get ye, Mr. Green. It's a quick getaway, is that +it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Exactly," answered Bobbie, "and I want the chauffeur to have all his +juice on—the engine cranked and ready for another Vanderbilt Cup +Race." Bobbie gave the waiter one of his best smiles—behind that +smile was a manful look, a kindliness of character and a great power of +purpose, which rang true, even to this blasé and cynical dispenser of +the grape. The latter nodded and smiled, albeit flabbily, into the +winsome eyes of the young officer. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye're a reg'lar fellar, Mr. Green, I kin see that! Trust me to have a +lightning conductor fer you—with his lamps lit and burning. These +nighthawk taxis around here make most of their mazuma by this fly +stuff—generally the souses ain't got enough left for a taxicab, and +it's a waste o' time stickin' 'em up since the rubes are so easy with +the taxi meter. But just look out for a little badger work on the +chauffeur when ye git through with 'im." +</P> + +<P> +Burke nodded. Then he added. "Just keep this to yourself, won't you? +There's nothing crooked about it—I'm trying to do some one a good +turn. Tell them to keep the taxi ready, no matter how long it takes." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure and I will, Mr. Green." +</P> + +<P> +The waiter walked away toward the front door, where he carried out +Burke's instructions, slipping the second bill into the willing hand of +the starter. +</P> + +<P> +As he came back he shrewdly studied the face of the young policeman who +was quietly listening to the furious fusillade of the ragtime musicians. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, that guy's not as green as he says his name is. He don't look +like no crook, neither! I wonder what his stall is? Well, <I>I</I> should +worry!" +</P> + +<P> +And he went his way rejoicing in the possession of that peace of mind +which comes to some men who let neither the joys nor woes of others +break through the armament of their own comfortable placidity. Every +night of his life was crowded with curious, sad and ridiculous +incidents; had he let them linger long in his mind his hand and +temperament would have suffered a loss of accumulative skill. That +would have spelled ruin, and this particular waiter, like so many of +his flabby-faced brothers, was a shrewd tradesman—in the commodities +of his discreetly elastic memory—and the even more valuable asset, a +talent for forgetting! +</P> + +<P> +Burke was biding his time, and watching developments. +</P> + +<P> +He saw the mealy-faced Baxter take Lorna out upon the dancing floor for +the next dance. They swung into the rhythm of the dance with easy +familiarity, which proved that the girl was no novice in this style of +terpsichorean enjoyment. +</P> + +<P> +"She has been to other dances like this," muttered Bobbie as he watched +with a strange loathing in his heart. "It's terrible to see the girls +of a great modern city like New York entering publicly into a dance +which I used to see on the Barbary Coast in 'Frisco. If they had seen +it danced out there I don't believe they'd be so anxious to imitate it +now." +</P> + +<P> +Lorna and Baxter returned through the crowded merrymakers to their +seats, and sat down at the table. +</P> + +<P> +"You need another cocktail," suggested Baxter, after sipping one +himself and forgetting the need for reserve in his remarks. "You +mustn't be a bum sport at a dance like this, Miss Barton." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Mr. Baxter, I don't dare go home with a breath like cocktails. +You know Mary and I sleep together," objected Lorna. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't worry about that, little girlie," said Baxter. "She won't mind +it to-night." +</P> + +<P> +To Burke's keen ears there was a shade of hidden menace in the words. +</P> + +<P> +"Come on, now, just this one," said Baxter coaxingly. "It won't hurt. +There's always room for one more." +</P> + +<P> +What a temptation it was for the muscular policeman to swing around and +shake the miserable wretch as one would a cur! +</P> + +<P> +But Bobbie had learned the value of controlling his temper; that is one +of the first requisites of a policeman's as well as of an army man's +life. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know, Mr. Baxter," said Lorna, after she had yielded to the +insistence of her companion, "that cocktail makes me a little dizzy. I +guess it will take me a long while to get used to such drinks. You +know, I've been brought up in an awfully old-fashioned way. My father +would simply kill me if he thought I drank beer—and as for cocktails +and highballs and horse's necks, and all those real drinks ... well, I +hate to think of it. Ha! ha!" +</P> + +<P> +And she laughed in a silly way which made Burke know that she was +beginning to feel the effect. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder if I hadn't better assert myself right now?" he mused, +pretending to eat a morsel. "It would cause a commotion, but it would +teach her a lesson, and would teach her father to keep a closer watch." +</P> + +<P> +Just then he heard his own name mentioned by the girl behind. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Mr. Baxter, you came just at the right time to-night. That Burke +who was calling on father is a stupid policeman, whom he met in the +hospital, and I was being treated to a regular sermon about life and +wickedness and a lot of tiresome rot. I don't like policemen, do you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I should say not!" was Baxter's heartfelt answer. +</P> + +<P> +They were silent an instant. +</P> + +<P> +"A policeman, you say, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; I certainly don't think he's fit to call on nice people. The +next think we know father will have firemen and cab-drivers and street +cleaners, I suppose. They're all in the same class to me—just +servants." +</P> + +<P> +"What precinct did he come from?" +</P> + +<P> +Baxter's tone was more earnest than it had been. +</P> + +<P> +Burke's face reddened at the girl's slur, but he continued his waiting +game. +</P> + +<P> +"Precinct? What's that? I don't know where he came from. He's a New +York policeman, that's all I found out. It didn't interest me, why +should it you? Oh, Mr. Baxter, look at that beautiful willow plume on +that girl's hat. She is a silly-looking girl, but that is a wonderful +hat." +</P> + +<P> +Baxter grunted and seemed lost in thought. +</P> + +<P> +Burke espied Jimmie the Monk meandering through the tables, in company +with a heavy, smooth-faced man whose eyes were directed from even that +distance toward the table at which Lorna sat. +</P> + +<P> +Burke wiped his forehead with his handkerchief, thus cutting off +Jimmie's possible view of his features. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, Jimmie, back again. And I see you're with my old friend, Sam +Shepard!" +</P> + +<P> +Baxter rose to shake hands with the newcomer. He introduced him to +Lorna, backing close against Burke's shoulder as he did so. +</P> + +<P> +"This is my friend, Sam Shepard, the theatrical manager, Miss Lorna," +began Baxter. "He's the man who can get you on the stage. You know I +was telling you about him. This is Miss Barton, you've heard about, +Sam. Sit down and tell her about your new comic opera that you're +casting now." +</P> + +<A NAME="img-108"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-108.jpg" ALT=""This is my friend, Sam Shepard, the theatrical manager, Miss Lorna. He's the man who can get you on the stage." BORDER="2" WIDTH="634" HEIGHT="461"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 634px"> +"This is my friend, Sam Shepard, the theatrical manager, Miss Lorna. He's the man who can get you on the stage. +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +As Shepard shook Lorna's hand, Jimmie leaned over toward Baxter's ear +to whisper. They were not two feet from Burke's own ears, so he heard +the message: "I've got de taxi ready. Now, make a good getaway to +Reilly's house, Baxter." +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Jimmie, just a minute," murmured Baxter. "This girl says a cop +was up calling on her father. I met the guy. His name was Burke. Do +you know him? Is he apt to queer anything?" +</P> + +<P> +Jimmie the Monk started. +</P> + +<P> +"Burke? What did he look like?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, pretty slick-looking gink. Well set-up—looked like an army man, +and gave me a hard stare when he lamped me. Had been in the hospital +with the old fellow." +</P> + +<P> +"Gee, dat's Burke, de guy dat's been after me, and I'm goin' ter do +'im. Is he buttin' in on dis?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; what about him? You're not scared of him, are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Naw; but he's a bad egg. Say, he's a rookie dat t'inks 'e kin clean +up our gang. Now, you better dish dis job and let Shepard pull de +trick. Take it from yer Uncle Jim!" +</P> + +<P> +Every syllable was audible to Burke, but Lorna was exchanging +pleasantries with Shepard, who had taken Baxter's seat. +</P> + +<P> +"All right, Jimmie. Beat it yourself." +</P> + +<P> +Baxter turned around as Jimmie quietly slipped away. Baxter leaned +over the table to smirk into the face of the young girl. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Miss Lorna, some of my friends are over in another corner of the +room, and I'm going to speak to them. Now, save the next tango for me. +Mr. Shepard will fix it for you, and if you jolly him right you can get +into his new show, 'The Girl and the Dragon,' can't she, Sam?" +</P> + +<P> +"Where are you going?" exclaimed Shepard in a gruff tone. "You've got +to attend to something for me to-night." +</P> + +<P> +There was a brutal dominance which vibrated in his voice. Here was a +desperate character, thought Burke, who was accustomed to command +others; he was not the flabby weakling type, like Baxter and Craig. +</P> + +<P> +"It's better for you to do it, Sam. I'll tell you later. Jimmie just +tipped me off that there's a bull on the trail that's lamped me." +</P> + +<P> +Burke understood the shifting of their business arrangement, but to +Lorna the crook's slang was so much gibberish. +</P> + +<P> +"What did you say? I can't understand such funny talk, Mr. Baxter. I +guess I had too strong a cocktail, he! he!" she exclaimed. "What about +a lamp?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's all right, girlie," said Shepard, as Baxter walked quickly +away. "Some of his friends want him to go down to the Lamb's Club, but +he doesn't want to leave you. We'll have a little chat together while +he is gone. I'm not very good at dancing or I'd get you to turkey trot +with me." +</P> + +<P> +Lorna's voice was whiny now as she responded. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I'm feeling funny. That cocktail was too much for me.... I guess +I'd better go home." +</P> + +<P> +"There, there, my dear," Shepard reassured her. "You get that way for +a little while, but it's all right. You'd better have a little +beer—that will straighten you up." +</P> + +<P> +Only by the strongest will power could Burke resist his desire to +interpose now, yet the words of the men prepared him for something +which it would be more important to wait for—to interfere at the +dramatic moment. +</P> + +<P> +"Here, waiter, a bottle of beer!" ordered Shepard. +</P> + +<P> +Burke turned half way around, and, by a side-long glance, he saw +Shepard pulling a small vial from his hip pocket as he sat with his +back to the policeman. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, ho! So here it comes!" thought Bobbie. "I'll be ready to stand +by now." +</P> + +<P> +He rose and pushed back his chair. The waiter had brought the bottle +with surprising alacrity, and Shepard poured out a glass for the young +girl. Bobbie stood fumbling with his change as an excuse to watch. +Lorna was engrossed in the bubbling foam of the beer and did not notice +him. +</P> + +<P> +"I guess he's afraid to do it now," thought Bobbie, as he failed to +observe any suspicious move. +</P> + +<P> +True, Shepard's hand passed swiftly over the glass as he handed it to +the girl. +</P> + +<P> +She drank it at his urging, and then suddenly her head sank forward on +her breast. +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie stifled his indignation with difficulty as Shepard gave an +exclamation of surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"My wife! She is sick! She has fainted!" cried Shepard to Burke's +amazement. The man acted his part cunningly. +</P> + +<P> +He had sprung to his feet as he rushed around the table to catch the +toppling girl. With a quick jump to her side Bobbie had caught her by +an arm, but Shepard indignantly pushed him aside. +</P> + +<P> +"How dare you, sir?" he exclaimed. "Take your hands off my wife." +</P> + +<P> +The man's bravado was splendid, and even the diners were impressed. +Most of them laughed, for to them it was only another drunken woman, a +familiar and excruciatingly funny object to most of them. +</P> + +<P> +"Aw, let the goil alone," cried one red-faced man who sat with a small, +heavily rouged girl of about sixteen. "Don't come between man and +wife!" And he laughed with coarse appreciation of his own humor. +</P> + +<P> +Shepard had lifted Lorna with his strong arms and was starting toward +the door. Burke saw the entrance to the men's café on the right. He +quietly walked into it, and then hurried toward the front, out through +the big glass door to the street. +</P> + +<P> +There, about twenty feet to his right, he saw the purring taxicab which +he had ordered waiting for a quick run. +</P> + +<P> +In front of the restaurant entrance, now to his left, was another car, +with a chauffeur standing by its open door, expectantly. +</P> + +<P> +Burke ran up just as Shepard emerged from the restaurant entrance. The +officer sprang at the big fellow and dealt him a terrible blow on the +side of the head. The man staggered and his hold weakened. As he did +so Burke caught the inanimate form of the young girl in his own arms. +He turned before Shepard or the waiting chauffeur could recover from +their surprise and ran toward the car at the right. The two men were +after him, but Burke lifted the girl into the machine and cried to the +chauffeur: +</P> + +<P> +"Go it!" +</P> + +<P> +"Who are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm Mr. Green," said Burke. The chauffeur sprang into his seat, but +as he did so Shepard was upon the young officer and trying to climb +into the door. +</P> + +<P> +Biff! +</P> + +<P> +Here was a chance for every ounce of accumulated ire to assert itself, +and it did so, through the hardened muscles of Officer 4434's right +arm. Shepard sank backward with a groan, as the taxi-cab shot forward +obedient to its throttle. +</P> + +<P> +Burke was bounced backward upon the unconscious girl, but the machine +sped swiftly with a wise chauffeur at its wheel. He did not know where +his passenger wished to go, but his judgment told him it was away from +pursuit. +</P> + +<P> +He turned swiftly down the first street to the right. +</P> + +<P> +Back on the sidewalk before the restaurant there was intense +excitement. Baxter, Craig and Jimmie the Monk had followed the artful +Shepard to the street by the side door. They assisted the chauffeur in +picking up the bepummeled man from the sidewalk. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Jimmie! There's somebody shadowing us. Get into that cab of +Mike's and we'll chase him!" cried Baxter. +</P> + +<P> +They rushed for the other cab, leaving Craig to mop Shepard's wan face +with a perfumed handkerchief. +</P> + +<P> +After the slight delay of cranking it the second car whizzed along the +street. But that delay was fatal to the purpose of the pursuers, for +ere they had reached the corner down which the first machine had turned +the entire block was empty. Burke's driver had made another right turn. +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie opened the door and yelled to the chauffeur as he hung to the +jamb with difficulty. +</P> + +<P> +"Drive past the restaurant again very slowly, but don't stop. Then +keep on going straight up the avenue." +</P> + +<P> +The chauffeur knew the advantage of doubling on a trail, and by the +time he had passed the restaurant after a third and fourth right +turn—making a trip completely around the block—the excitement had +died down. The pursuers had gone on a wild-goose chase in the opposite +direction, little suspecting such a simple trick. +</P> + +<P> +The taxicab rumbled nonchalantly up the avenue for five or six blocks, +while Burke worked in a vain effort to restore his fair prisoner to +consciousness. +</P> + +<P> +The car stopped in a dark stretch between blocks. +</P> + +<P> +"Where shall I go, governor?" asked the chauffeur as he jumped down and +opened the door. "Is your lady friend any better, governor?" +</P> + +<P> +Burke looked at the man's face as well as he could in the dim light, +wondering if he could be trusted. He decided that it was too big a +chance, for there is a secret fraternity among chauffeurs and the +denizens of the Tenderloin which is more powerful than any benevolent +order ever founded. This man would undoubtedly tell of his destination +to some other driver, surely to the starter at the restaurant. Then it +would be a comparatively simple matter for Baxter and Jimmie the Monk +to learn the details in enough fullness to track his own identity. For +certain reasons, already formulated, Bobbie Burke wished to keep Jimmie +and his gangsters in blissful ignorance of his own knowledge of their +activities. +</P> + +<P> +"This is my girl, and one of those fellows tried to steal her," said +Burke in a gruff voice. "I was onto the game, and that's why I had the +starter get you ready. She lives on West Seventy-first Street, near +West End Avenue. Now, you run along on the right side of the street, +and I'll point out the house." +</P> + +<P> +He was planning a second "double" on his trail. The chauffeur grunted +and started the machine again. The girl was moaning with pain in an +incoherent way. +</P> + +<P> +As they rolled slowly down West Seventy-first Street Bobbie saw a house +which showed a light in the third floor. Presumably the storm door +would not be locked, as it would have been in case the tenants were +away. He knocked on the window. +</P> + +<P> +The taxi came to a stop. +</P> + +<P> +The chauffeur opened the door and Burke sprang out. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's a ten-dollar bill, my boy," said Burke. "I'll have to square +her with her mother, so you come back here in twenty minutes and take +me down to that restaurant. I'm going to clean out that joint, and +I'll pay you another ten to help me. Are you game?" +</P> + +<P> +The chauffeur laughed wisely. +</P> + +<P> +"Am I game? Just watch me." +</P> + +<P> +Burke lifted Lorna out and turned toward the steps. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, don't leave me in the lurch. Be back in exactly twenty minutes, +and I'll be on the job—and we'll make it some job. But, don't let the +folks see you standing around, or they'll think I've been up to some +game. Her old man will start some shooting. Come back for me." +</P> + +<P> +The chauffeur chuckled as he climbed into his car and drove away, +planning a little himself. +</P> + +<P> +"Any guy that has a girl as swell as that one to live on this street +will be good for a hundred dollars before I get through with him," he +muttered as he took a chew of tobacco. "And I've got the number of +that house, too. Her old man will give a good deal to keep this out of +the papers. I know my business, even if I didn't go to college!" +</P> + +<P> +As the chauffeur disappeared around the corner, after taking a look +toward the steps up which Burke had carried his unconscious burden, the +policeman put Lorna down inside the vestibule. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, this is a dangerous game. It means disgrace if I get caught; but +it means a pair of broken hearts if this poor girl gets caught," he +thought. "I'll risk nobody coming, and run for another taxi." +</P> + +<P> +He hastened down the steps and walked around the corner, hurrying +toward a big hotel which stood not far from Broadway. Here he found +another taxicab. +</P> + +<P> +"There's a young lady sick at the house of one of my friends, and I'm +taking her home," said Burke to the driver. "Hurry up, please." +</P> + +<P> +The second automobile sped over the street to the house where Burke had +left the girl, and the officer hurried up the steps. He soon +reappeared with Lorna in his arms, walked calmly down the steps, and +put her into the car. +</P> + +<P> +This time he gave the correct home address, and the taxicab rumbled +along on the last stretch of the race. +</P> + +<P> +They passed the first car, whose driver was already planning the ways +to spend the money which he was to make by a little scientific +blackmail. +</P> + +<P> +He was destined to a long wait in front of the brownstone mansion. +</P> + +<P> +After nearly an hour he decided to take things into his own hands. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll get a little now," he muttered with an accompaniment of +profanity. "That guy can't stall me." +</P> + +<P> +After ringing the bell for several minutes a very angry caretaker came +to the door. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you want, my man?" cried this individual in unmistakable +British accents. "Dash your blooming impudence in waking me up at this +time in the morning." +</P> + +<P> +"I want to get my taxicab fare from the gent that brought the lady here +drunk!" declared the chauffeur. "Are you her father?" +</P> + +<P> +The caretaker shook a fist in his face as he snapped back: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm nobody's father. There ain't no gent nor drunk lady here. I'm +alone in this house, and my master and missus is at Palm Beach. If you +don't get away from here I'm going to call the police." +</P> + +<P> +With that he slammed the door in the face of the astounded chauffeur +and turned out the light in the hall. +</P> + +<P> +The taxi driver walked down the steps slowly. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, that's a new game on me!" he grunted. "There's a new gang +working this town as sure as I'm alive. I'm going down and put the +starter wise." +</P> + +<P> +Down he went, to face a cross-examination from the starter, and an +accounting for his time. He had to pay over seven dollars of his ten +to cover the period for which he had the car out. Jimmie the Monk and +Baxter had returned from their unsuccessful chase. As they made their +inquiries from the starter and learned the care with which the coup +d'êtat had been arranged they lapsed into angry, if admiring, profanity. +</P> + +<P> +"Some guy, eh, Jimmie!" exclaimed Baxter. "But we'll find out who it +was, all right. Leave it to me!" +</P> + +<P> +"Say, dat bloke was crazy—crazy like a fox, wasn't he?" answered +Jimmie. "He let Shepard do de deal, and den he steals de kitty! Dis +is what I calls cut-throat competition!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE CLOSER BOND +</H4> + +<P> +Once in the second taxicab Burke's difficulties were not at an end. +</P> + +<P> +"I want to get this poor young girl home without humiliating her or her +family, if I can," was his mental resolve. "But I can't quite plan it. +I wish I could take her to Dr. MacFarland, but his office is 'way +downtown from here." +</P> + +<P> +When the car drew up before the door of Lorna's home, from which she +had departed in such blithe spirits, Bob's heart was thumping almost +guiltily. He felt in some ridiculous way as though he were almost +responsible for her plight himself. Perhaps he had done wrong to wait +so long. Yet, even his quick eyesight had failed to discover the +knockout drops or powder which the wily Shepard had slipped into that +disastrous glass of beer. Maybe his interference would have saved her +from this unconscious stupor, indeed, he felt morally certain that it +would; but Bob knew in his heart that the clever tricksters would have +turned the tables on him effectively, and undoubtedly in the end would +have won their point by eluding him and escaping with the girl. It was +better that their operations should be thwarted in a manner which would +prevent them from knowing how sharply they were watched. Bob knew that +these men were to be looked after in the future. +</P> + +<P> +He cast aside his thoughts to substitute action. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's your number, mister," said the chauffeur, who opened the door. +"Can I help you with the lady?" +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, no. What's the charge?" +</P> + +<P> +The driver twisted the lamp around to show the meter, and Burke paid +him a good tip over the price of the ride. +</P> + +<P> +"Shall I wait for you?" asked the driver. +</P> + +<P> +"No; that's all. I'll walk to the subway as soon as my friend gets in. +Good night." +</P> + +<P> +The chauffeur lingered a bit as Bob took the girl in his arms. The +officer understood the suggestion of his hesitation. +</P> + +<P> +"I said good night!" he spoke curtly. +</P> + +<P> +The taxi man understood this time; there was no mistaking the firmness +of the hint, and he started his machine away. +</P> + +<P> +The Bartons lived in one of the apartments of the building. The front +door was locked, and so Bob was forced reluctantly to ring the bell +beneath the name which indicated their particular letter box. +</P> + +<P> +He waited, holding the young girl in his arms. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I'm so sick!" he heard her say faintly, and he realized that she +was regaining consciousness. +</P> + +<P> +"If only I can get her upstairs quietly," he thought. +</P> + +<P> +He was about to swing her body around in his arms so that he could ring +once more when there was a turning of the knob. +</P> + +<P> +"Who is it?" came a frightened voice. +</P> + +<P> +It was Mary Barton at the doorway. +</P> + +<P> +"S-s-s-h!" cautioned Bob. "It's Burke. I'm bringing Miss Lorna home? +Don't make any noise." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" gasped the unhappy sister. "What's wrong? Is she hurt?" +</P> + +<P> +"No!" said Bob. "Fortunately not." +</P> + +<P> +"Is she— Oh— Is she—drunk?" +</P> + +<P> +Burke calmed her with the reassurance of his low, steady voice. +</P> + +<P> +"No, Miss Mary. She was drugged by those rascals, and I saved her in +time. Please don't cry, or make a noise. Let me take her upstairs and +help you. It's better if she does not know that I was the one to bring +her home." +</P> + +<P> +Mary tried to help him; but Bob carried the girl on into the hall. +</P> + +<P> +"Is your father awake?" +</P> + +<P> +"No; I told him two hours ago, when he asked me from his room, that +Lorna had returned and was asleep. He believed me. I had to fib to +save him from breaking his dear old daddy heart. Is she injured at +all?" +</P> + +<P> +It was plainly evident that the poor girl was holding her nerves in +leash with a tremendous effort. +</P> + +<P> +Bob kept on toward the stairs. +</P> + +<P> +"She'll be all right when you get her into her room. Give her some +smelling salts, and don't tell your father. Didn't he hear the bell?" +</P> + +<P> +"No; I've been waiting for her. I put some paper in the bell so that +it would only buzz when it rang. Let me help you, Mr. Burke. How on +earth did you——" She was eager in spite of her anxiety. +</P> + +<P> +To see the young officer returning with her sister this way was more of +a mystery than she could fathom. But, at Bob's sibilant command for +silence, she trustingly obeyed, and went up before him to guide the way +along the darkened stairway. +</P> + +<P> +At last they reached the door of their apartment. +</P> + +<P> +Mary opened it, and Bob entered, walking softly. She led the way to +her humble little bedroom, the one which she and Lorna shared. Bob +laid the sister upon the bed, and beckoned Mary to follow him. Lorna +was moving now, her hands tremulous, and she was half-moaning. +</P> + +<P> +"I want my Mary. I want my Mary." +</P> + +<P> +Her sister followed Burke out into the hall, which led down the steps +to the street. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, remember, don't tell her about being drugged. A man at one of +the tables put some knockout drops into a glass of water"—Bob was +softening the blow with a little honest lying—"and I rescued her just +in time. She knows nothing about it—only warn her about the company +that she was in. I have learned that they are worse than worthless. I +will attend to them in my own way, and in the line of my work, Miss +Mary. But, as you love your sister, don't ever let her go with those +men again." +</P> + +<P> +Mary's hand was outstretched toward the young man's, and he took it +gently. +</P> + +<P> +"You've done much for Lorna," she breathed softly, "and more for me!" +</P> + +<P> +There was a sweet pressure from those soft, clasping fingers which +thrilled Bob as though somehow he was burying his face in a bunch of +roses—like that first one which had tapped its soft message for +admission to his heart, back in the hospital. +</P> + +<P> +"Good night. Don't worry. It's all ended well, after all." +</P> + +<P> +Mary drew away her fingers reluctantly as he backed down one step. +</P> + +<P> +"Good night—Bob!" +</P> + +<P> +That was all. She slipped quietly inside the apartment and closed the +door noiselessly behind her. +</P> + +<P> +Bob slowly descended the steps; oddly enough, he felt as though it were +an ascension of some sort. His life seemed to be going into higher +planes, and his hopes and ambitions came fluttering into his brain like +the shower of petals from some blossom-laden tree. He felt anew the +spring of old dreams, and the surge of new ones. +</P> + +<P> +He stumbled, unsteady in his steps, his hands trembling on the railing +of the stairs, until he reached the street level. He hurried out +through the hallway and closed the door behind him. +</P> + +<P> +How he longed to retrace his steps for just one more word! That first +tender use of his name had a wealth of meaning which stirred him more +than a torrent of endearing terms. +</P> + +<P> +The keen bracing air of the early spring morning thrilled him. +</P> + +<P> +He hurried down the street toward the subway station, elated, exalted. +</P> + +<P> +"It's worth fighting every gangster in New York for a girl like her!" +he told himself. "I never realized how bitter all this was until it +struck home to me—by striking home to some one who is loved by the +girl—I love." +</P> + +<P> +The trip downtown was more tiring than he had expected. The stimulus +of his exciting evening was now wearing off, and Bob went direct to the +station house to be handy for the duty which began early in the day. +It was not yet dawn, but the rattling milk carts, the stirring of +trucks and the early stragglers of morning workers gave evidence that +the sun would soon be out upon his daily travels. +</P> + +<P> +The day passed without more excitement than usual. Bob took his turn +after a short nap in the dormitory room of the station house. During +his relief he rested up again. When he was preparing to start out +again upon patrol a letter was handed him by the captain. +</P> + +<P> +"Here, Burke, a little message from your best girl, I suppose," smiled +his superior. +</P> + +<P> +Bob took it, and as he opened it again he felt that curious thrill +which had been aroused in him by the winsome charm of Mary Barton. It +was a brief note which she had mailed that morning on her way to work. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"DEAR MR. BURKE—Everything was all right after all our worry. Lorna +is heartily repentant, and thinks that she had to be brought home by +one of her 'friends' (?). She has promised never to go with them +again, and, aside from a bad headache to-day, she is no worse for her +folly. Father knows nothing, and, dear soul, I feel that it is better +so. I can never thank you enough. I hope to see you soon. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Cordially,<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">"MARY."</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Bob folded the note and tucked it into his breast pocket. The captain +had been watching him with shrewd interest, and presently he +intercepted: "Ah, now, I guessed right. Why, Bobbie Burke, you're even +blushing like a schoolgirl over her first beau." +</P> + +<P> +Burke was just a trifle resentful under the sharp look of the captain's +gray eyes; but the unmistakable friendliness of the officer's face +drove away all feeling. +</P> + +<P> +"I envy you, my boy. I am not making fun of you," said the captain, +with keen understanding. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, Cap," said Bob quietly. "You guessed right both times. +It's my first sweetheart." +</P> + +<P> +He buttoned his coat and started for the door. +</P> + +<P> +"You'd better step around to Doc MacFarland's on your rounds this +evening and let him look you over. It won't take but a minute, and I +don't expect him around the station. You're not on peg-post to-night, +so you can do it." +</P> + +<P> +"All right, Cap." +</P> + +<P> +Burke saluted and left the station, falling into line with the other +men who were marching out on relief. +</P> + +<P> +A half hour later he dropped into the office of the police surgeon, and +was greeted warmly by the old gentleman. +</P> + +<P> +MacFarland was smoking his pipe in comfort after the cares and worries +of a busy day. +</P> + +<P> +"Any more trouble with the gangsters, Burke?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +Bob, after a little hesitation decided to tell him about the adventure +of the night before. +</P> + +<P> +"I want your advice, Doc, for you understand these things. Do you +suppose there's any danger of Lorna's going out with those fellows +again? You don't suppose that they were actually going to entice her +into some house, do you?" +</P> + +<P> +MacFarland stroked his gray whiskers. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, my boy, that is not what we Scotchmen would call a vera canny +thought! You speak foolishly. Why, don't you know that is organized +teamwork just as fine as they make it? Those two fellows, Baxter, I +think you said, and Craig, are typical 'cadets.' They are the pretty +boys who make the acquaintance of the girls, and open the way for +temptation, which is generally attended to by other men of stronger +caliber. This fellow Shepard is undoubtedly one of the head men of +their gang. If Jimmie the Monk is mixed up in it that is the +connecting link between these fellows and the East Side. And it's back +to the East Side that the trail nearly always leads, for over in the +East Side of New York is the feudal fastness of the politician who +tells the public to be damned, and is rewarded with a fortune for his +pains. The politician protects the gangster; the gangster protects the +procurer, and both of them vote early and often for the politician." +</P> + +<P> +Bob sighed. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't there some way that this young girl can be warned about the +dangers she is running into? It's terrible to think of a thing like +this threatening any girl of good family, or any other family for that +matter." +</P> + +<P> +"You must simply warn her sister and have her watch the younger girl +like a hawk." +</P> + +<P> +MacFarland cleaned out his pipe with a scalpel knife, and put in +another charge of tobacco. +</P> + +<P> +He puffed a blue cloud before Bob had replied. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish there were some way I could get co-operation on this. I'm +going to hunt these fellows down, Doc. But it seems to me that the +authorities in this city should help along." +</P> + +<P> +"They are helping along. The District Attorney has sent up gangster +after gangster; but it's like a quicksand, Burke—new rascals seem to +slide in as fast as you shovel out the old ones." +</P> + +<P> +"I have the advantage now that they don't know who is looking after +Lorna," said Bobbie. "But it was a hard job getting them off my track." +</P> + +<P> +"That was good detective work—as good as I've heard of," said the +doctor. "You just keep shy now. Don't get into more gun fights and +fist scraps for a few days, and you'll get something on them again. +You know your catching them last night was just part of a general law +about crime. The criminal always gives himself away in some little, +careless manner that hardly looks worth while worrying about. Those +two fellows never dreamed of your following them—they let the name of +the restaurant slip out, and probably forgot about it the next minute. +And Jimmie the Monk has given you a clue to work on, to find out the +connection. Keep up your work—but keep a bullet-proof skin for a +while." +</P> + +<P> +Bob started toward the door. A new idea came to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Doctor, I've just thought of something. I saw a picture in the paper +to-night of a big philanthropist named Trubus, or something like that, +who is fighting Raines Law Hotels, improper novels, bad moving pictures +and improving morals in general. How do you think it would do to give +him a tip about these fellows? He asks for more money from the public +to carry on their work. They had a big banquet in his honor last +night." +</P> + +<P> +MacFarland laughed, and took from his desk a letter, which he handed to +Bob with a wink. The young officer was surprised, but took the paper, +and glanced at it. +</P> + +<P> +"There, Burke, read this letter. If I get one of these a day, I get +five, all in the same tune. Isn't that enough to make a man die a +miser?" +</P> + +<P> +Officer 4434 took the letter over to the doctor's student lamp and read +with amusement: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"DEAR SIR—The Purity League is waging the great battle against sin. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"You are doubtless aware that in this glorious work it is necessary for +us to defray office and other expenses. Whatever tithe of your +blessings can be donated to our Rescue Fund will be bread cast upon the +waters to return tenfold. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"A poor widow, whose only child is a beautiful girl of seventeen, has +been taken under the care of our gentle nurses. This unfortunate +woman, a devout church attendant, has been prostrated by the wanton +conduct of her daughter, who has left the influence of home to enter +upon a life of wickedness. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"If you will contribute one hundred dollars to the support of this +miserable old creature, we will have collected enough to pay her a +pension from the interest of the fund of ten dollars monthly. Upon +receipt of your check for this amount we will send you, express +prepaid, a framed membership certificate, richly embossed in gold, and +signed by the President, Treasurer and Chaplain-Secretary of the Purity +League. Your name will be entered upon our roster as a patron of the +organization. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Make all checks payable to William Trubus, President, and on +out-of-town checks kindly add clearing-house fee. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"'Charity shall cover the multitude of sins.'"—I Peter, iv. 8. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Yours for the glory of the Cause,<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">"WILLIAM TRUBUS,</SPAN><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 2em">"President, The Purity League of N. Y."</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +As Officer Burke finished the letter he looked quizzically at Dr. +MacFarland. +</P> + +<P> +"How large was your check, doctor?" +</P> + +<P> +"My boy, I came from Scotland. I will give you three guesses." +</P> + +<P> +"But, doctor, I see the top of the letter-head festooned with about +twenty-five names, all of them millionaires. Why don't these men +contribute the money direct? Then they could save the postage. This +letter is printed, not typewritten. They must have sent out thousands +about this poor old woman. Surely some millionaire could give up one +monkey dinner and endow the old lady?" +</P> + +<P> +"Burke, you're young in the ways of charity. That old woman is an +endowment herself. She ought to bring enough royalties for the Purity +League to buy three new mahogany desks, hire five new investigators and +four extra stenographers." +</P> + +<P> +The old doctor's kindly face lost its geniality as he pounded on the +table with rising ire. +</P> + +<P> +"Burke, I have looked into this organized charity game. It is a +disgrace. Out of every hundred dollars given to a really worthy cause, +in answer to hundreds of thousands of letters, ninety dollars go to +office and executive expenses. When a poor man or a starving woman +finally yields to circumstances and applies to one of these +richly-endowed institutions, do you know what happens?" +</P> + +<P> +Burke shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"The object of divine assistance enters a room, which has nice oak +benches down either side. She, and most of them are women (for men +have a chance to panhandle, and consider it more self-respecting to beg +on the streets than from a religious corporation), waits her turn, +until a dizzy blonde clerk beckons condescendingly. She advances to +the rail, and gives her name, race, color, previous condition of +servitude, her mother's great grandmother's maiden name, and a lot of +other important charitable things. She is then referred to room six +hundred and ninety. There she gives more of her autobiography. From +this room she is sent to the inspection department, and she is +investigated further. If the poor woman doesn't faint from hunger and +exhaustion she keeps up this schedule until she has walked a Marathon +around the fine white marble building devoted to charity. At last she +gets a ticket for a meal, or a sort of trading stamp by which she can +get a room for the night in a vermin-infested lodging house, upon the +additional payment of thirty cents. Now, this may seem exaggerated, +but honestly, my boy, I have given you just about the course of action +of these scientific philanthropic enterprises. They are spic and span +as the quarterdeck of a millionaire's yacht." +</P> + +<P> +MacFarland was so disgusted with the objects of his tirade that he +tried three times before he could fill his old briar pipe. +</P> + +<P> +"Doctor, why don't you air these opinions where they will count?" asked +Bobbie. "It's time to stop the graft." +</P> + +<P> +"When some newspaper is brave enough to risk the enmity of church +people, who don't know real conditions, and thus lose a few +subscribers, or when some really charitable people investigate for +themselves, it will all come out. The real truth of that quotation at +the bottom of the Purity League letter should be expressed this way: +'Charity covers a multitude of hypocrites and grafters.' And to my +mind the dirtiest, foulest, lowest grafter in the world is the man who +does it under the cloak of charity or religion. But a man who +proclaims such a belief as mine is called an atheist and a destroyer of +ideals." +</P> + +<P> +Burke looked at the old doctor admiringly. +</P> + +<P> +"If there were more men like you, Doc, there wouldn't be so much +hypocrisy, and there would be more real good done. Anyhow, I believe +I'll look up this angelic Trubus to see what he's like." +</P> + +<P> +He took up his night stick and started for the door. +</P> + +<P> +"I've spent too much time in here, even if it was at the captain's +orders. Now I'll go out and earn what the citizens think is the easy +money of a policeman. Good night." +</P> + +<P> +"Good night, my lad. Mind what I told you, and don't let those East +Side goblins get you." +</P> + +<P> +Burke had a busy night. +</P> + +<P> +He had hardly been out of the house before he heard a terrific +explosion a block away, and he ran to learn the cause. +</P> + +<P> +From crowded tenement houses came swarming an excited, terror-stricken +stream of tenants. The front of a small Italian store had been smashed +in. It was undoubtedly the work of a bomb, and already the cheap +structure of the building had caught the flames. Men and women, +children by the dozen, all screeched and howled in a Babel of half a +dozen languages as Bob, with his fellow officers, tried to calm them. +</P> + +<P> +The engines were soon at the scene, but not until Bob and others had +dashed into the burning building half a dozen times to guide the +frightened occupants to the streets. +</P> + +<P> +Mothers would remember that babies had been left inside—after they +themselves had been brought to safety. The long-suffering policemen +would rush back to get the little ones. +</P> + +<P> +The fathers of these aliens seemed to forget family ties, and even that +chivalry, supposed to be a masculine instinct, for they fought with +fist and foot to get to safety, regardless of their women and the +children. The reserves from the station had to be called out to keep +the fire lines intact, while the grimy firemen worked with might and +main to keep the blaze from spreading. After it was all over Burke +wondered whether these great hordes of aliens were of such benefit to +the country as their political compatriots avowed. He had been reading +long articles in the newspapers denouncing Senators and Representatives +who wished to restrict immigration. He had seen glowing accounts of +the value of strong workers for the development of the country's +enterprise, of the duty of Americans to open their national portal to +the down-trodden of other lands, no matter how ignorant or +poverty-stricken. +</P> + +<P> +"I believe much of this vice and crime comes from letting this rabble +into the city, where they stay, instead of going out into the country +where they can work and get fresh air and fields. They take the jobs +of honest men, who are Americans, and I see by the papers that there +are two hundred and fifty thousand men out of work and hunting jobs in +New York this spring," mused Bob. "It appears to me as if we might +look after Americans first for a while, instead of letting in more +scum. Cheap labor is all right; but when honest men have to pay higher +taxes to take care of the peasants of Europe who don't want to work, +and who do crowd our hospitals and streets, and fill our schools with +their children, and our jails and hospitals with their work and their +diseases, it's a high price for cheap labor." +</P> + +<P> +And, without knowing it, Officer 4434 echoed the sentiments of a great +many of his fellow citizens who are not catering to the votes of +foreign-born constituents or making fortunes from the prostitution of +workers' brain and brawn. +</P> + +<P> +The big steamship companies, the cheap factory proprietors and the +great merchants who sell the sweat-shop goods at high-art prices, the +manipulators of subway and road graft, the political jobbers, the +anarchistic and socialistic sycophants of class guerilla warfare are +continually arguing to the contrary. But the policemen and the firemen +of New York City can tell a different story of the value of our alien +population of more than two million! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE PURITY LEAGUE AND ITS ANGEL +</H4> + +<P> +In a few days, when an afternoon's relief allowed him the time, Officer +4434 decided to visit the renowned William Trubus. He found the +address of that patron of organized philanthropy in the telephone book +at the station house. +</P> + +<P> +It was on Fifth Avenue, not far from the windswept coast of the famous +Flatiron Building. +</P> + +<P> +Burke started up to the building shortly before one o'clock, and he +found it difficult to make his way along the sidewalks of the beautiful +avenue because of the hordes of men and girls who loitered about, +enjoying the last minutes of their luncheon hour. +</P> + +<P> +Where a few years before had been handsome and prosperous shops, with a +throng of fashionably dressed pedestrians of the city's better classes +on the sidewalks, the district had been taken over by shirtwaist and +cloak factories. The ill-fed, foul-smelling foreigners jabbered in +their native dialects, ogled the gum-chewing girls and grudgingly gave +passage-way to the young officer, who, as usual, when off duty, wore +his civilian clothes. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder why these factories don't use the side streets instead of +spoiling the finest avenue in America?" thought Bob. "I guess it is +because the foreigners of their class spoil everything they seem to +touch. Our great granddaddies fought for Liberty, and now we have to +give it up and pay for the privilege!" +</P> + +<P> +It was with a pessimistic thought like this that he entered the big +office structure in which was located the headquarters of the Purity +League. Bob took the elevator in any but a happy frame of mind. He +was determined to find out for himself just how correct was Dr. +MacFarland's estimate of high-finance-philanthropy. +</P> + +<P> +On the fourth floor he left the car, and entered the door which bore +the name of the organization. +</P> + +<P> +A young girl, toying with the wires of a telephone switchboard, did not +bother to look up, despite his query. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, dearie," she confided to some one at the other end of the +telephone. "We had the grandest time. He's a swell feller, all right, +and opened nothing but wine all evening. Yes, I had my charmeuse +gown—the one with the pannier, you know, and——" +</P> + +<P> +"Excuse me," interrupted Burke, "I'd like to speak to the president of +this company." +</P> + +<P> +The girl looked at him scornfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Just a minute, girlie, I'm interrupted." She turned to look at Bob +again, and with a haughty toss of her rather startling yellow curls +raised her eyebrows in a supercilious glance of interrogation. +</P> + +<P> +"What's your business?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's <I>my</I> business. I want to see Mr. Trubus and not <I>you</I>." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, nix on the sarcasm. He's too busy to be disturbed by every book +agent and insurance peddler in town. Tell me what you want and I'll +see if it's important enough. That's what I'm paid for." +</P> + +<P> +"You tell him that a policeman from the —— precinct wants to see him, +and tell him mighty quick!" snapped Burke with a sharp look. +</P> + +<P> +He expected a change of attitude. But the curious, shifty look in the +girl's face—almost a pallor which overspread its artificial carnadine, +was inexplicable to him at this time. He had cause to remember it +later. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, why," she half stammered, "what's the matter?" +</P> + +<P> +"You give him my message." +</P> + +<P> +The girl did not telephone as Burke had expected her to do, according +to the general custom where switchboard girls send in announcement of +callers to private offices. +</P> + +<P> +Instead she removed the headgear of the receiver and rose. She went +inside the door at her back and closed it after her. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, that's some service," thought Burke. "I wonder why she's so +active after indifference?" +</P> + +<P> +She returned before he had a chance to ruminate further. +</P> + +<P> +"You can go right in, sir," she said. +</P> + +<P> +As she sat down she watched him from the corner of her eye. Burke +could not help but wonder at the tense interest in his presence, but +dismissed the thought as he entered the room, and beheld the president +of the Purity League. +</P> + +<P> +William Trubus was seated at a broad mahogany desk, while before him +was spread a large, old-fashioned family Bible. He held in his left +hand a cracker, which he was munching daintily, as he read in an +abstracted manner from the page before him. In his right hand was a +glass containing a red liquid, which Burke at first sight supposed was +wine. He was soon to be undeceived. +</P> + +<P> +He stood a full minute while the president of the League mumbled to +himself as he perused the Sacred Writ. Bobbie was thus enabled to get +a clear view of the philanthropist's profile, and to study the great +man from a good point of vantage. +</P> + +<P> +Trubus was rotund. His cheeks were rosy evidences of good health, good +meals and freedom from anxiety as to where those good meals were to +come from. His forehead was round, and being partially bald, gave an +appearance of exaggerated intellectuality. +</P> + +<P> +His nose was that of a Roman centurion—bold, cruel as a hawk's beak, +strong-nostriled as a wolf's muzzle. His firm white teeth, as they +crunched on the cracker suggested, even stronger, the semblance to a +carnivorous animal of prey. A benevolent-looking pair of gold-rimmed +glasses sat astride that nose, but Burke noticed that, oddly enough, +Trubus did not need them for his reading, nor later when he turned to +look at the young officer. +</P> + +<P> +The plump face was adorned with the conventional "mutton-chop" whiskers +which are so generally associated in one's mental picture of bankers, +bishops and reformers. The whiskers were so resolutely black, that +Burke felt sure they must have been dyed, for Trubus' plump hands, with +their wrinkles and yellow blotches, evidenced that the philanthropist +must have passed the three-score milestone of time. +</P> + +<P> +The white gaiters, the somber black of his well-fitting broadcloth coat +of ministerial cut, the sanctified, studied manner of the man's pose +gave Burke an almost indefinable feeling that before him sat a cleverly +"made-up" actor, not a sincere, natural man of benevolent activities. +</P> + +<P> +The room was furnished elaborately; some rare Japanese ivories adorned +the desk top. A Chinese vase, close by, was filled with fresh-cut +flowers. Around the walls were handsome oil paintings. Beautiful +Oriental rugs covered the floor. There hung a tapestry from some old +French convent; yonder stood an exquisite marble statue whose value +must have been enormous. +</P> + +<P> +As Trubus raised the glass to drink the red liquid Bobbie caught the +glint of an enormous diamond ring which must have cost thousands. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, evidently his charity begins at home!" thought the young man as +he stepped toward the desk. +</P> + +<P> +Tiring of the wait he addressed the absorbed reader. +</P> + +<P> +"I beg your pardon, Mr. Trubus, but I was announced and told to come in +here to see you." +</P> + +<P> +Trubus raised his eyebrows, and slowly turned in his chair. His eyes +opened wide with surprise as he peered over the gold rims at the +newcomer. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well, well! So you were, so you were." +</P> + +<P> +He put down his glass reluctantly. +</P> + +<P> +"You must pardon me, but I always spend my noon hour gaining +inspiration from the great Source of all inspiration. What can I do +for you? I understand that you are a policeman—am I mistaken?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, sir; I am a policeman, and I have come to you to get your aid. I +understand that you receive a great deal of money for your campaign for +purifying the city, and so I think you can help me in a certain work." +</P> + +<P> +Trubus waved the four-carat ring deprecatingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, my young friend, you are in great error. I do not receive much +money. We toil very ardently for the cause, but worldly pleasures and +the selfishness of our fellow citizens interfere with our solving of +the great task. We are far behind in our receipts. How lamentably +little do we get in response to our requests for aid to charity!" +</P> + +<P> +He followed Bobbie's incredulous glance at the luxurious furnishings of +his office. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes, it is indeed a wretched state of affairs. Our efforts never +cease, and although we have fourteen stenographers working constantly +on the lists of people who could aid us, with a number of devout +assistants who cover the field, our results are pitiable." +</P> + +<P> +He leaned back in his leather-covered mahogany desk chair. +</P> + +<P> +"Even I, the president of this association, give all my time to the +cause. And for what? A few hundred dollars yearly—a bare modicum. I +am compelled to eat this frugal luncheon of crackers and grape juice. +I have given practically all of my private fortune to this splendid +enterprise, and the results are discouraging. Even the furniture of +this office I have brought down from my home in order that those who +may come to discuss our movement may be surrounded by an environment of +beauty and calm. But, money, much money. Alas!" +</P> + +<P> +Just at this juncture the door opened and the telephone girl brought in +a basket full of letters, evidently just received from the mail man. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's the latest mail, Mr. Trubus. All answers to the form letters, +to judge from the return envelopes." +</P> + +<P> +Trubus frowned at her as he caught Burke's twinkling glance. +</P> + +<P> +"Doubtless they are insults to our cause, not replies to our +importunities, Miss Emerson!" he hurriedly replied. +</P> + +<P> +He looked sharply at Burke. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, sir, having finished what I consider my midday devotions, I am +very busy. What can I do for you?" +</P> + +<P> +"You can listen to what I have to say," retorted Burke; resenting the +condescending tone. "I come here to see you about some actual +conditions. I have read some of your literature, and if you are as +anxious to do some active good as you write you are, I can give you +enough to keep your entire organization busy." +</P> + +<P> +It was a very different personality which shone forth from those sharp +black eyes now, than the smug, quasi-religious man who had spoken +before. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't like your manner, young man. Tell me what you have to say, +and do it quickly." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, yours is the Purity League. I happen to have run across a gang +of procurers who drug girls, and make their livelihood off the shame of +the girls they get into their clutches. I can give you the names of +these men, their haunts, and you can apply the funds and influence of +your society in running them to earth, with my assistance and that of a +number of other policemen I know." +</P> + +<P> +Trubus rose from his chair. +</P> + +<P> +"I have heard this story many times before, my young friend. It does +not interest me." +</P> + +<P> +"What!" exclaimed Burke, "you advertise and obtain money from the +public to fight for purity and when a man comes to you with facts and +with the gameness to help you fight, you say you are not interested." +</P> + +<P> +Trubus waved his hand toward the door by which Burke had entered. +</P> + +<P> +"I have to make an address to our Board of Directors this afternoon," +he said, "and I don't care to associate my activities nor those of the +cause for which I stand with the police department. You had better +carry your information to your superiors." +</P> + +<P> +"But, I tell you I have the leads which will land a gang of organized +procurers, if you will give me any of your help. The police are trying +to do the best they can, but they have to fight district politics, +saloon men, and every sort of pull against justice. Your society isn't +afraid of losing its job, and it can't be fired by political influence. +Why don't you spend some of your money for the cause that's alive +instead of on furniture and stenographers and diamond rings!" +</P> + +<P> +The cat was out of the bag. +</P> + +<P> +Trubus brought his fist down with a bang which spilled grape juice on +his neat piles of papers. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you dictate to me. You police are a lot of grafters, in league +with the gangsters and the politicians. My society cares for the +unfortunate and seeks to work its reforms by mentally and spiritually +uplifting the poor. We have the support of the clergy and those people +who know that the public and the poor must be brought to a spiritual +understanding. Pah! Don't come around to me with your story of +'organized traffic.' That's one of the stories originated by the +police to excuse their inefficiency!" +</P> + +<P> +Burke's eyes flamed as he stood his ground. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me tell you, Mr. Trubus, that before you and your clergy can do +any good with people's souls you've got to take more care of their +bodies. You've got to clean out some of the rotten tenement houses +which some of your big churches own. I've seen them—breeding places +for tuberculosis and drunkenness, and crime of the vilest sort. You've +got to give work to the thousands of starving men and women, who are +driven to crime, instead of spending millions on cathedrals and altars +and statues and stained glass windows, for people who come to church in +their automobiles. A lot of your churches are closed up when the +neighborhood changes and only poor people attend. They sell the +property to a saloonkeeper, or turn it into a moving-picture house and +burn people to death in the rotten old fire-trap. And if you don't +raise your hand, when I come to you fair and square, with an honest +story—if you dare to order me out of here, because you've got to gab a +lot of your charity drivel to a board of directors, instead of taking +the interest any real man would take in something that was real and +vital and eating into the very heart of New York life, I'm going to +show you up, and put you out of the charity business——so help me God!" +</P> + +<P> +Burke's right arm shot into the air, with the vow, and his fist +clenched until the knuckles stood out ridged against the bloodless +pallor of his tense skin. +</P> + +<P> +Trubus looked straight into Burke's eyes, and his own gaze dropped +before the white flame which was burning in them. +</P> + +<P> +Burke turned without a word and walked from the office. +</P> + +<P> +After he had gone Trubus rang the buzzer for his telephone girl. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Emerson, did that policeman leave his name and station?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, sir; but I know his number. He's mighty fresh." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I must find out who he is. He is a dangerous man." +</P> + +<P> +Trubus turned toward his mail, and with a slight tremor in his hand +which the shrewd girl noticed began to open the letters. +</P> + +<P> +Check after check fluttered to the surface of the desk, and the great +philanthropist regained his composure by degrees. When he had +collected the postage offertory, carefully indorsed them all, and +assembled the funds sent in for his great work, he slipped them into a +generously roomy wallet, and placed the latter in the pocket of his +frock coat. +</P> + +<P> +He opened a drawer in his desk, and drew forth a tan leather bank book. +Taking his silk hat from the bronze hook by the door, he closed the +desk, after slamming the Bible shut with a sacrilegious impatience, +quite out of keeping with his manner of a half hour earlier. +</P> + +<P> +"I am going to the bank, Miss Emerson. I will return in half an hour +to lead in the prayer at the opening of the directors' meeting. Kindly +inform the gentlemen when they arrive." +</P> + +<P> +He slammed the door as he left the offices. +</P> + +<P> +The telephone operator abstractedly chewed her gum as she watched his +departure. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder now. I ain't seen his nibs so flustered since I been on this +job," she mused. "That cop must 'ave got his goat. I wonder!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE BUSY MART OF TRADE +</H4> + +<P> +The hypocrisy of William Trubus and the silly fatuity of his reform +work rankled in Burke's bosom as he betook himself uptown to enjoy his +brief vacation for an afternoon with his old friend, the inventor. +Later he was to share supper when the girls came home from their work. +</P> + +<P> +John Barton was busy with his new machine, and had much to talk about. +At last, when his own enthusiasm had partially spent itself, he noticed +Burke's depression. +</P> + +<P> +"What is the trouble, my boy? You are very nervous. Has anything gone +wrong?" +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie hesitated. He wished to avoid any mention of the case in which +Lorna had so unfortunately figured. But, at last, he unfolded the +story of his interview with the alleged philanthropist, describing the +situation of the gangsters and their work in general terms. +</P> + +<P> +Barton shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"They're nearly all alike, these reformers in mahogany chairs, Burke. +I've been too busy with machinery and workmen, whom I always tried to +help along, to take much stock in the reform game. But there's no +denying that we do need all the reforming that every good man in the +world can give us. Only, there are many ways to go about it. Even I, +without much education, and buried for years in my own particular kind +of rut, can see that." +</P> + +<P> +"The best kind of reform will be with the night stick and the bars of +Sing Sing, Mr. Barton," answered Burke. "Some day the police will work +like army men, with an army man at the head of them. It won't be +politics at all then, but they'll have the backing of a man who is on +the firing line, instead of sipping tea in a swell hotel, or swapping +yarns and other things in a political club. That day is not far +distant, either, to judge from the way people are waking things up. +But we need a little different kind of preaching and reforming now." +</P> + +<P> +Barton leaned back in his wheel chair and spoke reminiscently. +</P> + +<P> +"Last spring I spent Sunday with a well-to-do friend of mine in a +beautiful little town up in Connecticut. We went to church. It was an +old colonial edifice, quaint, clean, and outside on the green before it +were forty or fifty automobiles, for, as my friend told me with pride, +it was the richest congregation in that part of New England. +</P> + +<P> +"Inside of the church was the perfume of beautiful spring flowers which +decorated the altar and were placed in vases along the aisles. In the +congregation were happy, well-fed, healthy business men who enlivened +existence with golf, motoring, riding, good books, good music, good +plays and good dinners. Their wives were charmingly gowned. Their +children were rosy-cheeked, happy and normal. +</P> + +<P> +"The minister, a sweet, genial old chap, recited his text after the +singing of two or three beautiful hymns. It was that quotation from +the Bible: 'Look at the lilies of the field. They toil not, neither do +they spin.' In full, melodious tones he addressed his congregation, +confident in his own faith of a delightful hereafter, and still better +blessed with the knowledge that his monthly check was not subject to +the rise and fall of the stock market! +</P> + +<P> +"In his sermon he spoke of the beauties of life, the freshness of +spring, its message of eternal happiness for those who had earned the +golden reward of the Hereafter. He preached optimism, the subject of +the unceasing care and love of the Father above; he told of the +spiritual joy which comes only with a profound faith in the Almighty, +who observes even of the fall of the sparrow. +</P> + +<P> +"Through the window came the soft breezes of the spring morning, the +perfume of buds on the trees and the twitter of birds. It was a sweet +relief to me after having left the dreary streets of the city and our +busy machine shop behind, to see the happiness, content, decency and +right living shining in the faces of the people about me. The charm of +the spring was in the message of the preacher, although it was in his +case more like the golden light of a sunset, for he was a good old man, +who had followed his own teachings, and it was evident that he was +beloved by every one in his congregation. A man couldn't help loving +that old parson—he was so happy and honest! +</P> + +<P> +"When he completed his sermon of content, happiness and unfaltering +faith, a girl sang an old-time offertory. The services were closed +with the music of a well-trained choir. The congregation rose. The +worshippers finally went out of the church, chatting and happy with the +thought of a duty well done in their weekly worship, and, last but not +least, the certainty of a generous New England dinner at home. The +church services were ended. Later in the afternoon would be a short +song service of vespers and in the evening a simple and sincere meeting +of sweet-minded, clean-souled young men and women for prayer service. +It was all very pretty. +</P> + +<P> +"As I say, Burke, it was something that soothed me like beautiful music +after the rotten, miserable, wretched conditions I had seen in the +city. It does a fellow good once in a while to get away from the grip +of the tenements, the shades of the skyscrapers, the roar of the +factories, and the shuffling, tired footsteps of the crowds, the smell +of the sweat-shops. +</P> + +<P> +"But, do you know, it seemed to me that that minister missed something; +that he was <I>too contented</I>. There was a message that man <I>could</I> have +given which I think might perhaps have disagreed with the digestions of +his congregation. Undoubtedly, it would have influenced the hand that +wrote the check the following month. +</P> + +<P> +"I wondered to myself why, at least, he could not have spoken to his +flock in words something like this, accompanied by a preliminary pound +on his pulpit to awaken his congregation from dreams of golf, roast +chicken and new gowns: +</P> + +<P> +"'You business men who sit here so happy and so contented with +honorable wives, with sturdy children in whose veins run the blood of a +dozen generations of decent living, do you realize that there are any +other conditions in life but yours? Do you know that Henry Brown, Joe +Smith and Richard Black, who work as clerks for you down in your New +York office, do not have this church, do not have these spring flowers +and the Sunday dinners you will have when you go back home? Does it +occur to you that these young men on their slender salaries may be +supporting more people back home than you are? Do you know that many +of them have no club to go to except the corner saloon or the pool +room? Do you know that the only exercise a lot of your poor clerks, +assistants and factory workers get is standing around on the street +corners, that the only drama and comedy they ever see is in a dirty, +stinking, germ-infected, dismal little movie theater in the slums; that +the only music they ever hear is in the back room of a Raines Law hotel +or from a worn-out hurdy-gurdy? +</P> + +<P> +"'Why don't you men take a little more interest in the young fellows +who work for you or in some of the old ones with dismal pasts and worse +futures? Why don't you well-dressed women take an interest in the +stenographers and shop girls, the garment-makers—<I>not</I> to condescend +and offer them tracts and abstracts of the Scriptures—but to improve +the moral conditions under which they work, the sanitary conditions, +and to arrange decent places for them to amuse themselves after hours. +</P> + +<P> +"'Surely you can spare a little time from the Golf Clubs and University +Clubs and Literary Clubs and Bridge Clubs and Tango Parties. Let me +tell you that if you do not, during the next five or ten years, the +people of these classes will imbibe still more to the detriment of our +race, the anarchy and money lust which is being preached to them daily, +nightly and almost hourly by the socialists, the anarchists and the +atheists, who are all soured on life because they've never <I>had</I> it! +</P> + +<P> +"'The tide of social unrest is sweeping across to us from the Old World +which will engulf our civilization unless it is stopped by the jetties +of social assistance and the breakwaters of increased moral education. +You can't do this with Sunday-school papers and texts! You can't stem +the movement in your clubs by denouncing the demagogues over highball +glasses and teacups. +</P> + +<P> +"'It is all right to have faith in the good. It is well to have hope +for the future. Charity is essential to right living and right +helping. But out of the five million people in New York City, four +million and a half have never seen any evidence of Divine assistance +such as our Good Book says is given to the sparrow. They are not +lilies of the field. They must toil or die. You people are to them +the lilies of the field! Your fine gowns, your happy lives, your +endless opportunities for amusement; your extravagances are to them as +the matador's flag to the bull in the Spanish ring. Unless you <I>do</I> +take the interest, unless you <I>do</I> fight to stem the movement of these +dwarfed and bitter leaders, unless you <I>do</I> overcome their arguments +based on much solid-rock truth by definite personal work, by definite +constructive education, your civilization, my civilization and the +civilization of all the centuries will fall before socialism and +anarchy.' +</P> + +<P> +"But <I>that</I> was not what he said. I have never heard the minister of a +rich congregation say that yet. Have you, Burke?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, the minister who talked like that would have to look for a new +pulpit, or get a job as a carpenter, like the Minister long ago, who +made the rich men angry. But I had no idea that you thought about such +things, Mr. Barton. You'd make a pretty good minister yourself." +</P> + +<P> +The old inventor laughed as he patted the young man on the back. +</P> + +<P> +"Burke, the trouble with most ministers, and poets, and painters, and +novelists, and law-makers, and other successful professional men who +are supposed to show us common, working people the right way to go is +that they don't get out and mix it up. They don't have to work for a +mean boss, they don't know what it is to go hungry and starved and +afraid to call your soul your own—scared by the salary envelope at the +end of the week. They don't get out and make their <I>souls</I> sweat +<I>blood</I>. Otherwise, they'd reform the world so quickly that men like +Trubus wouldn't be able to make a living out of the charity game." +</P> + +<P> +Barton smiled jovially. +</P> + +<P> +"But here we go sermonizing. People don't want to listen to sermons +all the time." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, we're on a serious subject, and it means our bread and butter +and our happiness in life, when you get right down to it," said Bobbie. +"I don't like sermons myself. I'd rather live in the Garden of Eden, +where they didn't need any. Wouldn't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, but my wheel chair would find it rough riding without any +clearings," said Barton. "By the way, Bob, I've some news for you. My +lawyer is coming up here to-night, to talk over some patent matters, +and you can lay your family matters before him. He'll attend to that +and you may get justice done you. If you have some money back in +Illinois, you ought to have it." +</P> + +<P> +"He can get all he wants—if he gives me some," agreed Burke, "and I'll +back your patents." +</P> + +<P> +The old man started off again on his plans, and they argued and +explained to each other as happy as two boys with some new toys, until +the sisters came home. +</P> + +<P> +Lorna was distinctly cool toward Burke, but, under a stern look from +Mary, gave the outward semblance of good grace. The fact that he had +been present in her home at the time of her disastrous escapade, even +though she believed him ignorant of it, made the girl sensitive and +aloof. +</P> + +<P> +She left Mary alone with him at the earliest pretext, and Bobbie had +interesting things to say to her: things which were nobody's business +but theirs. +</P> + +<P> +Barton's lawyer came before Burke left to report for evening duty, and +he spent considerable effort to learn the story of the uncle and the +curious will. +</P> + +<P> +Now a digression in narrative is ofttimes a dangerous parting of ways. +But on this particular day Bobbie Burke had come to a parting of the +ways unwittingly. He had left the plodding life of routine excitement +of the ordinary policeman to embark upon a journey fraught with +multifold dangers. In addition to his enemies of the underworld, he +had made a new one in an entirely different sphere. +</P> + +<P> +To follow the line of digression, had the reader gone into the same +building on Fifth Avenue which Burke had entered that afternoon, +perhaps an hour later, and had he stopped on the third floor, entered a +door marked "Mercantile Agency," he would have discovered a very busy +little market-place. The first room of the suite of offices thus +indicated was quite small. A weazened man, with thin shiny fingers, an +unnaturally pallid face, and stooped shoulders, sat at a small flat-top +desk, inside an iron grating of the kind frequently seen in cashiers' +offices. +</P> + +<P> +He watched the hall door with beady eyes, and whenever it opened to +admit a newcomer he subjected that person to keen scrutiny; then he +pushed a small button which automatically clicked a spring in the lock +of the grated door. +</P> + +<P> +This done, it was possible for the approved visitor to push past into a +larger room shut off from the first office by a heavy door which +invariably slammed, because it was pulled shut by a strong wire spring +and was intended to slam. +</P> + +<P> +The larger room opened out on a rear court, and, upon passing one of +the large dirty windows, a fire escape could be descried. Around this +room were a number of benches. Close scrutiny would have disclosed the +fact that they were old-fashioned church pews, dismantled from some +disused sanctuary. Two large tables were ranged in the center of the +room. +</P> + +<P> +The floor was extremely dirty. The few chairs were very badly worn, +and the only decorations on the walls were pasted clippings of prize +fighters and burlesque queens, cut from the pages of <I>The Police +Gazette</I> and the sporting pages of some newspapers. +</P> + +<P> +Into this room, all through the afternoon, streamed a curious medley of +people. Tall men, small men, rough men, dapper men, and loudly dressed +women, who for the most part seemed inclined to corpulence. They +talked sometimes; many seemed well acquainted. Others appeared to be +strangers, and they glanced about them uneasily, apparently suspicious +of their fellows. +</P> + +<P> +This seemed a curious waiting room for a Fifth Avenue "Mercantile +Agency." +</P> + +<P> +But inside the room to the left, marked "private," was the explanation +of the mystery; at last there was a partial explanation of the curious +throng. +</P> + +<P> +As the occupants chatted, or kept frigid and uneasy silence, in the +outer room a fat man, smooth of face and monkish in appearance, +occasionally appeared at the private portal and admitted one person at +a time. +</P> + +<P> +After disappearing through this door, his visitors were not seen again, +for they left by another door, which automatically closed and locked +itself as they went directly into the hall corridor where the elevators +ran. +</P> + +<P> +In the private office of the "Mercantile Agency" the fat man would sit +at his desk and listen attentively to the words of his visitor. +</P> + +<P> +"Speak up, Joe. You know I'm hard of hearing—don't whisper to me," +was the tenor of a remark which he seemed to direct to every visitor. +Yet strangely enough he frequently stopped to listen to voices in the +outer room, which he appeared to recognize without difficulty. +</P> + +<P> +On this particular afternoon a dapper-dressed youth was an early caller. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Tom, what luck on the steamer? Now, don't swallow your voice. +Remember, I got kicked in the ear by a horse before I quit bookmaking, +and I have to humor my hearing." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it was easy. That Swede, Jensen, came over, you know, and he had +picked out a couple of peachy Swede girls who were going to meet their +cousin at the Battery. Minnie and I went on board ship as soon as she +docked, to meet our relatives, and we had a good look at 'em while they +were lined up with the other steerage passengers. They were fine, and +we got Jensen to take 'em up to the Bronx. They're up at Molloy's +house overnight. It's better to keep 'em there, and give 'em some +food. You know, the emigrant society is apt to be on the lookout +to-day. The cousin was there when the ferry came in from the Island, +all right, but we spotted him before the boat got in, and I had Mickey +Brown pick a fight with him, just in time to get him pinched. He was +four blocks away when the boat landed, and Jensen, who had made friends +with the girls coming over, told them he would take 'em to his aunt's +house until they heard from their cousin." +</P> + +<P> +"What do they look like? We've got to have particulars, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, one girl is tall, and the other rather short. They both have +yellow hair and cheeks like apples. One's name is Lena and the other +Marda—the rest of their names was too much for me. They're both about +eighteen years old, and well dressed, for Swedes." +</P> + +<P> +The fat man was busy writing down certain data on a pad arranged in a +curious metal box, which looked something like those on which grocers' +clerks make out the order lists for customers. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Henry, what do you use that thing for? Why don't you use a +fountain pen and a book?" asked the dapper one. +</P> + +<P> +"That's my affair," snapped the fat man. "I want this for records, and +I know how to do it. Go on. What did Mrs. Molloy pay you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you know she's a tight one. I had to argue with her, and I have +a lot of expense on this, anyway." +</P> + +<P> +"Go on—don't begin to beef about it. I know all about the expenses. +We paid the preliminaries. Now, out with the money from Molloy. It +was to be two hundred dollars, and you know it. Two hundred apiece is +the exact figure." +</P> + +<P> +The visitor stammered, and finally pulled out a roll of yellow-backed +bills "Well, I haven't gotten mine yet," he whined. +</P> + +<P> +"Yours is just fifty on this, for you've had a steamer assignment every +day this week. You can give your friend Minnie a ten-spot. Now, +report here to-morrow at ten, for I've a new line for you. Good day. +Shut the door." +</P> + +<P> +The fat man was accustomed to being obeyed. The other departed with a +surly manner, as though he had received the worst of a bargain. The +manager jotted down the figures on the revolving strip of paper, for +such it was, while the pencil he used was connected by two little metal +arms to the side of the mechanism. Some little wheels inside the +register clicked, as he turned the paper lever over for a clean record. +He put the money into his wallet. +</P> + +<P> +He went to the door to admit another. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, Levy, what do you have to say?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, Meester Clemm, eet's a bad bizness! Nattings at all to-day. I've +been through five shoit-vaist factories, and not a girl could I get. +Too much of dis union bizness. I told dem I vas a valking delegate, +but I don't t'ink I look like a delegate. Vot's to be done?" +</P> + +<P> +The manager looked at him sternly. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, unless you get a wiggle on, you'll be back with a pushcart, +where you belong, over on East Broadway, Levy. The factories are full +of girls, and they don't make four dollars a week. Lots of pretty +ones, and you know where we can place them. One hundred dollars +apiece, if a girl is right, and that means twenty-five for you. You've +been drawing money from me for three weeks without bringing in a cent. +Now you get on the job. Try Waverley Place and come in here to-morrow. +You're a good talker in Yiddish, and you ought to be able to get some +action. Hustle out now. I can't waste time." +</P> + +<P> +The manager jotted down another memorandum, and again his machine +clicked, as he turned the lever. +</P> + +<P> +A portly woman, adorned in willow plumes, sealskin cloak and wearing +large rhinestones in her rings and necklace, now entered at the +manager's signal. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Madame Blanche, what have you to report?" +</P> + +<P> +"I swear I ain't had no luck, Mr. Clemm. Some one's put the gipsy +curse on me. Twice this afternoon in the park I've seen two pretty +girls, and each time I got chased by a cop. I got warned. I think +they're gettin' wise up there around Forty-second Street and Sixth +Avenue." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, how about that order we had from New Orleans? That hasn't been +paid yet. You know it was placed through you. You got your commish +out of it, and this establishment always wants cash. No money orders, +either. Spot cash. We don't monkey with the United States mail. +There's too many city bulls looking around for us now to get Uncle +Sam's men on the job." +</P> + +<P> +The portly person under the willow plume, with a tearful face, began to +wipe her eyes with a lace kerchief from which, emanated the odor of +Jockey Club. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Mr. Clemm, you are certainly the hardest man we ever had to do +business with. I just can't pay now for that, with my high rents, and +gettin' shook down in the precinct and all." +</P> + +<P> +"Can it, Madame Blanche. I'm a business man. They're not doing any +shaking down just now in your precinct. I know all about the police +situation up there, for they've got a straight inspector. Now, I want +that four hundred right now. We sent you just what was ordered and if +I don't get the money right now you get blacklisted. Shell out!" +</P> + +<P> +The manager's tone was hard as nails. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Mr. Clemm ... well, excuse me. I must step behind your desk to +get it, but you ain't treatin' me right, just the same, to force it +this way." +</P> + +<P> +Madame Blanche, with becoming modesty, stepped out of view in order to +draw forth from their silken resting place four new one hundred dollar +bills. She laid them gingerly and regretfully on the desk, where they +were quickly snatched up by the business-like Clemm. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe I'll have a little order for next week, if you can give better +terms, Mr. Clemm," began the lady, but the manager waved her aside. +</P> + +<P> +"Nix, Madame. Get out. I'm busy. You know the terms, and I advise +you not to try any more of this hold-out game. You're a week late now, +and the next time you try it you'll be sorry. Hurry. I've got a lot +of people to see." +</P> + +<P> +She left, wiping her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +The next man to enter was somewhat mutilated. His eye was blackened +and the skin across his cheek was torn and just healing from a fresh +cut. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well, well! What have you been up to, Barlow? A prize fight?" +snapped Clemm. +</P> + +<P> +"Aw, guv'nor, quit yer kiddin'. Did ye ever hear of me bein' in a +fight? Nix. I tried to work dis needle gag over in Brooklyn an' I got +run outen de t'eayter on me neck. Dere ain't no luck. I'd better go +back to der dip ag'in." +</P> + +<P> +"You stick to orders and stay around those cheap department stores, as +you've been told to do, and you'll have no black eyes. Last month you +brought in eleven hundred dollars for me, and you got three hundred of +it yourself. What's the matter with you? You look like a panhandler? +Don't you save your money? You've got to keep decently dressed." +</P> + +<P> +"Aw, guv'nor, I guess it's easy come, easy go. Ain't dere nottin' +special ye kin send me on?" +</P> + +<P> +"Report here to-morrow at eleven. We're planning something pretty +good. Here's ten dollars. Go rig yourself up a little better and get +that eye painted out. Hustle up. I'm busy." +</P> + +<P> +The dilapidated one took the bill and rolled his good eye in gratitude. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, guv'nor, you're white wid me. I kin always git treated right +here." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't thank me, it's business. Get out and look like a man when I see +you next. I don't want any bums working for me." +</P> + +<P> +The fat man jotted down a memorandum of his outlay on the little +machine. Then he admitted the next caller. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, it's you, Jimmie. Well, what have you to say? You've been +working pretty well, so Shepard tells me. What about his row the other +night? I thought that girl was sure." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Mr. Clemm, ye see, we had it fixed all right, an' some foxy gink +blows in wid a taxi an' lifts de dame right from outen Shepard's mit! +De slickest getaway I ever seen. I don't know wot 'is game is, but he +sure made some getaway, an' we never even got a smell at 'im." +</P> + +<P> +"Who was with you on the deal? Who did the come-on?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, pretty Baxter. You knows, w'en dat boy hands 'em de goo-goo an' +wiggles a few Tangoes he's dere wid both feet! But dis girl was back +on de job ag'in in her candy store next day. But Baxter'll git 'er +yit. Shepard's pullin' dis t'eayter manager bull, so he'll git de game +yet." +</P> + +<P> +"Did her folks get wise?" +</P> + +<P> +"Naw, not as we kin tell. Shepard he seen her once after she left de +store. De trouble is 'er sister woiks in de same place. We got ter +git dat girl fired, and den it'll be easy goin'. De goil gits home +widout de sister findin' out about it, she tells Shepard. I don't +quite pipe de dope on dis butt-in guy. But he sure spoiled Shepard's +beauty fer a week. Dere's only one t'ing I kin suspect." +</P> + +<P> +"All right, shoot it. You know I'm busy. This girl's worth the fight, +for I know who wants one just about her looks and age. What is it? +We'll work it if money will do it, for there's a lot of money in this +or I wouldn't have all you fellows on the job. I saw a picture she +gave Baxter. She's a pretty little chicken, isn't she?" +</P> + +<P> +"Shoor! Some squab. Well, Mr. Clemm, dere's a rookie cop down in de +precinct w'ere I got a couple workin', named Burke. Bobbie Burke, damn +'im! He gave me de worst beatin' up I ever got from any cop, an' I'm +on bail now for General Sessions fer assaultin' 'im." +</P> + +<P> +"What's he got to do with it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, dis guy was laid up in de hospital by one of me pals who put 'im +out on first wid a brick. He got stuck on a gal whose old man was in +dat hospital, and dat gal is de sister of dis yere Lorna Barton. Does +ye git me?" +</P> + +<P> +Clemm's eyes sparkled. +</P> + +<P> +"What does he look like? Brown hair, tall, very square shoulders?" he +asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Exact! He's a fresh guy wid his talk, too—one of dem ejjicated cops. +Dey tells me he was a collige boy, or in de army or somethin'." +</P> + +<P> +"Could he have known about Lorna Barton going out with Baxter that +night Shepard was beaten?" +</P> + +<P> +"My Gaud! Yes, cause Baxter he tells me Burke was dere at de house." +Clemm nodded his head. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you can take a hundred to one shot tip from me, Jimmie, that this +Burke had something to do with Shepard. He may have put one of his +friends on the job. Those cops are not such dummies as we think they +are sometimes. That fellow's a dangerous man." +</P> + +<P> +Clemm pondered for a moment. Jimmie was surprised, for the manager of +the "Mercantile Agency" was noted for his rapid-fire methods. The Monk +knew that something of great importance must be afoot to cause this +delay. +</P> + +<P> +The manager tapped the desk with his fingers, as he moved his lips, in +a silent little conversation with himself. At last he banged the desk +with vehemence. +</P> + +<P> +"Here, Jimmie. I'm going to entrust you with an important job." +</P> + +<P> +The Monk brightened and smiled hopefully. +</P> + +<P> +"How much money would it take to put Officer Bobbie Burke, if that's +his name, where the cats can't keep him awake at night?" +</P> + +<P> +Jimmie looked shiftily at the manager. +</P> + +<P> +"You mean..." +</P> + +<P> +He drew his hand significantly across his throat, raising his heavy +eyebrows in a peculiar monkey grimace which had won for him his +soubriquet. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, to quiet his nerves. It's a shame to let these ambitious young +policemen worry too much about their work." +</P> + +<P> +"I kin git it done fer twenty-five dollars." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, here's a hundred, for I'd like to have it attended to neatly, +quietly and permanently. You understand me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Say, I'm ashamed ter take money fer dis!" laughed Jimmie the Monk. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't worry about that, my boy. Make a good job of it. It's just +business. I'm buying the service and you're selling it. Now get out, +for I've got a lot more marketing to do." +</P> + +<P> +Jimmie got. +</P> + +<P> +It was indeed a busy little market place, with many commodities for +barter and trade. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +WHEN THE TRAIN COMES IN +</H4> + +<P> +Burke was sent up to Grand Central Station the following morning by +Captain Sawyer to assist one of the plain-clothes men in the +apprehension of two well-known gangsters who had been reported by +telegraph as being on their way to New York. +</P> + +<P> +"We want them down in this precinct, Burke, and you have seen these +fellows, so I want to have you keep a sharp lookout in the crowd when +the train comes in. In case of a scuffle in a crowd, it's not bad to +have a bluecoat ready, because the crowd is likely to take sides. +Anyway, there's apt to be some of this gas-house gang up there to +welcome them home. And your club will do more good than a revolver in +a railroad station. You help out if Callahan gives you the sign, +otherwise just monkey around. It won't take but a few minutes, anyway." +</P> + +<P> +Burke went up to the station with the detective. +</P> + +<P> +They watched patiently when the Chicago train came in, but there was no +sign of the desired visitors. The detective entered the gate, when all +the passengers had left, and searched the train. +</P> + +<P> +"They must have gotten off at One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street, from +what the conductor could tell me. If they did, then they'll be nabbed +up there, for Sawyer is a wise one, and had that planned," said +Callahan. "I'll just loiter around the station a while to see any +familiar faces. You can go back to your regular post, Burke." +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie bade him good-bye, and started out one of the big entrances. As +he did so he noticed a timid country girl, dressed ridiculously behind +the fashions, and wearing an old-fashioned bonnet. She carried a +rattan suitcase and two bandboxes. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder if she's lost," thought Burke. "I'll ask her. She looks +scared enough." +</P> + +<P> +He approached the young woman, but before he reached her a well-dressed +young man accosted her. They exchanged a few words, and the fellow +evidently gave her a direction, looking at a paper which she clutched +in her nervous hand. The man walked quickly out of the building toward +the street. Unseen by Burke, he whispered something to another nattily +attired loiterer, an elderly man, who started toward the "car stop." +</P> + +<P> +As Burke rounded the big pillar of the station entrance the man again +addressed the country girl. +</P> + +<P> +"There's your car, sis," he said, with a smile. Bobbie looked at him +sharply. +</P> + +<P> +There was something evil lurking in that smooth face, and the fellow +stared impudently, with the haunting flicker of a scornful smile in his +eyes, as he met the gaze of the policeman. +</P> + +<P> +The country girl hurried toward the north-bound Madison Avenue car, +which she boarded, with several other passengers. Among them was the +gray-haired man who had received the mysterious message. +</P> + +<P> +Burke watched the car disappear, and then turned to look at the smiling +young man, who lit a cigarette, flicking the match insolently near the +policeman's face. +</P> + +<P> +"Move on, you," said Burke, and the young man shrugged his shoulders, +leisurely returning to the waiting room of the station. +</P> + +<P> +Burke was puzzled. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder what that game was? Maybe I stopped him in time. He looks +like a cadet, I'll be bound. Well, I haven't time to stand around here +and get a reprimand for starting on a wild-goose chase." +</P> + +<P> +So Burke returned to the station house and started out on his rounds. +</P> + +<P> +Had he taken the same car as the country girl, however, he would have +understood the curious manoeuvre of the young man with the smile. +</P> + +<P> +When the girl had ridden almost to the end of the line she left the car +at a certain street. The elderly gentleman with the neat clothes and +the fatherly gray hair did so at the same time. She walked uncertainly +down one street, while he followed, without appearing to do so, on the +opposite side. He saw her looking at the slip of paper, while she +struggled with her bandboxes. He casually crossed over to the same +side of the thoroughfare. +</P> + +<P> +"Can I direct you, young lady?" he politely asked. +</P> + +<P> +He was such a kind-looking old gentleman that the girl's confidence was +easily won. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir. I'm looking for the Young Women's Christian Association. I +thought it was down town, but a gentleman in the depot said it was on +that street where I got off. I don't see it at all. They're all +private houses, around here. You know, I've never been in New York +City before, and I'm kinder green." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well, I wouldn't have known it," said her benefactor. "The +Y.W.C.A. is down this street, just in the next block. You'll see the +sign on the door, in big white letters. I've often passed it on my way +to church." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, thank you, sir," and the country girl started on her quest once +more, with a firmer grip on the suitcase and the bandboxes. +</P> + +<P> +Sure enough, on the next block was a brownstone building—more or less +dilapidated in appearance, it is true—just as he had prophesied. +</P> + +<P> +There were the big white letters painted on a sign by the door. The +girl went up the steps, rang the bell, and was admitted by a tousled, +smirking negress. +</P> + +<P> +"Is this here the Y.W.C.A.?" she asked nervously. +</P> + +<P> +"Yassim!" replied the darkie. "Come right in, ma'am, and rest yoh +bundles." +</P> + +<P> +The girl stepped inside the door, which closed with a click that almost +startled her. She backed to the door and put her hand on the knob. It +did not turn! +</P> + +<P> +"Are you <I>sure</I> this is the Y.W.C.A.?" she insisted. "I thought it was +a great big building." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yas, lady; dis is it. Yoh all don't know how nice dis buildin' is +ontel you go through it. Gimme yoh things." +</P> + +<P> +The negress snatched the suitcase from the girl's hand and whisked one +of the bandboxes from the other. +</P> + +<P> +"Here, you let go of that grip. I got all my clothes in there, and I +don't think I'm in the right place." +</P> + +<P> +As she spoke a plump lady, wearing rhinestone rings and a necklace of +the same precious tokens, whom the reader might have recognized as no +other than the tearful Madame Blanche, stepped from the parlor. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, my dear little girl. I'm so glad you came. We were expecting +you. I am the president of the Y.W.C.A., you know. Just go right +upstairs with Sallie, she'll show you to your room." +</P> + +<P> +"Expecting me? How could you be? I didn't send word I was coming. I +just got the address from our minister, and I lost part of it." +</P> + +<P> +"That's all right, dearie. Just follow Sallie; you see she is taking +your clothes up to your room. I'll be right up there, and see that you +are all comfortable." +</P> + +<P> +The bewildered girl followed the only instinct which asserted +itself—that was to follow all her earthly belongings and get +possession of them again. She walked into the trap and sprang up the +stairs, two steps at a time, to overtake the negress. +</P> + +<P> +Madame Blanche watched her lithe grace and strength as she sped upwards +with the approving eye of a connoisseur. +</P> + +<P> +"Fine! She's a beauty—healthy as they make 'em, and her cheeks are +redder than mine, and mine cost money—by the box. Oh, here comes Pop." +</P> + +<P> +She turned as the door was opened from the outside. It was a door +which required the key from the inside, on certain occasions, and it +was still arranged for the easy ingress of a visitor. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Blanche, what do you think?" inquired the benevolent old +gentleman who had been such an opportune guide to the girl from +up-State. +</P> + +<P> +"Pop, she's a dandy. Percy can certainly pick 'em on the fly, can't +he?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, don't I deserve a little credit?" asked the old gentleman, his +vanity touched. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, you're our best little Seeing-Noo-Yorker. But say, Pop, Percy +just telephoned me in time. We had to paint out that old sign, "help +wanted," and put on 'Y.W.C.A.' Sallie is a great sign painter. We'll +have trouble with this girl. She's a husky. But won't Clemm roll his +eyes when he sees her?" +</P> + +<P> +"Naw, he don't regard any of 'em more than a butcher does a new piece +of beef. He's a regular business man, that's all. No pride in his +art, nor nothing like that," sighed Pop. "But that girl made a hit +with me, old as I am. She's a peach." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, she won't look so rosy when Shepard shows her that she's got to +mind. He's a rough one, he is. It gets on my nerves sometimes. They +yell so, and he's got this whip stuff down too strong. You know I +think he's act'ally crazy about beatin' them girls, and makin' them +agree to go wherever we send 'em. He takes too much fun out of it, and +when he welts 'em up it lowers the value. He'll be up this afternoon. +We must have him ease it up a bit." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, well, he's young, ye know," said Pop. "Boys will be boys, and +some of 'em's rough once in a while. I was a boy myself once." And he +pulled his white mustache vigorously as he smiled at himself in the +large hall mirror. +</P> + +<P> +"You'd better be off down to the station again, Pop," said Madame +Blanche. "They're going to send over two Swedish girls from Molloy's +in the Bronx this afternoon, and then put 'em on through to St. Paul. +I've got a friend out there who wants 'em to visit her. Then Baxter +telephoned me that he had a little surprise for me, later to-day. He's +been quiet lately, and it's about time, or he'll have to get a job in +the chorus again to pay his manicure bills." +</P> + +<P> +Pop took his departure, and, as Sallie came down the stairs with a +smile of duty done, Madame Blanche could hear muffled screams from +above. +</P> + +<P> +"Where is she, Sallie?" +</P> + +<P> +"She's in de receibin' room, Madame. Jes' let 'er yowl. It'll do her +good. I done' tol' er to save her breaf, but she is extravagant. Wait +ontil Marse Shepard swings dat whip. She'll have sompen to sing about!" +</P> + +<P> +And Sallie went about her duties—to put out the empty beer bottles for +the brewery man and to give the prize Pomeranian poodle his morning +bath. +</P> + +<P> +Madame Blanche retired to her cosy parlor, where, beneath the staring +eyes of her late husband's crayon portrait, and amused by the squawking +of her parrot, she could forget the cares of her profession in the +latest popular problem novel. +</P> + +<P> +On the floor above a miserable, weeping country lassie was beating her +hands against the thick door of the windowless dark room until they +were bruised and bleeding. +</P> + +<P> +She sank to her knees, praying for help, as she had been taught to do +in her simple life back in the country town. +</P> + +<P> +But her prayers seemed to avail her naught, and she finally sank, +swooning, with her head against the cruel barrier. Back in the +railroad station, Percy and his kind-faced assistant, Pop, were +prospecting for another recruit. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE POISONED NEEDLE +</H4> + +<P> +That afternoon Burke improved his time, during a two-hour respite, to +hunt for a birthday present for Mary. +</P> + +<P> +Manlike, he was shy of shops, so he sought one of the big department +stores on Sixth Avenue, where he instinctively felt that everything +under the sun could be bought. +</P> + +<P> +As Bobbie paused before one of the big display windows on the sidewalk +he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure. It was that instinct which +one only half realizes in a brief instant, yet which leaves a strong +reaction of memory. +</P> + +<P> +"Who was that?" he thought, and then remembered: Baxter. +</P> + +<P> +Burke followed the figure which had passed him so quickly, and found +the same dapper young man deeply engrossed in the window display of +women's walking suits. +</P> + +<P> +"What can he find so interesting in that window?" mused Burke. "I'll +just watch his tactics. I don't believe that fellow is ever any place +for any good!" +</P> + +<P> +He stood far out on the sidewalk, close to the curb. The passing +throng swept in two eddying, opposite currents between him and Baxter, +whose attention seemed strictly upon the window. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, there's his refined companion," was Burke's next impression, as +he espied the effeminate figure of Craig, strolling along the sidewalk +close to the same window. +</P> + +<P> +"Can they be pickpockets? I would guess that was too risky for them to +take a chance on." +</P> + +<P> +Neither youth spoke to the other, although they walked very close to +each other. As Burke scrutinized their actions he saw a young girl, +tastefully dressed in a black velvet suit, with a black hat, turn about +excitedly. She looked about her, as though in alarm, and her face was +distorted with pain. Baxter gave her a shifty look and followed her. +Craig had been close at her side. +</P> + +<P> +Burke drew nearer to the girl. She seemed to falter, as she walked, +and it was apparently with great effort that she neared the door of the +big department store. Baxter was watching her stealthily now. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" she exclaimed desperately and keeled backward. Baxter's +calculations were close, for he caught her in his arms. +</P> + +<P> +"Quick! Quick!" he cried to the big uniformed carriage attendant at +the door. "Get me a taxicab. My sister has fainted." +</P> + +<P> +The man whistled for a machine, as Burke watched them. The officer was +calculating his own chances on what baseball players call a "double +play." Craig was close behind Baxter, in the curious crowd. Burke +guessed that it would take at least a minute or two for Baxter to get +the girl into a machine. So he rushed for Craig and surprised that +young gentleman with a vicious grasp of the throat. +</P> + +<P> +"Help! Police!" cried Craig, as some women screamed. His wish was +doubly answered, for Burke's police whistle was in his mouth and he +blew it shrilly. A traffic squad man rushed across from the middle of +the street. +</P> + +<P> +"Hurry, I want to get my sister away!" ordered Baxter excitedly to the +door man. "You big boob, what's the matter with you?" +</P> + +<P> +The crowd of people about him shut off the view of Burke's activities +fifteen feet away. Baxter was nervous and was doing his best to make a +quick exit with his victim. +</P> + +<P> +"What's this?" gruffly exclaimed the big traffic policeman, as he +caught Craig's arm. +</P> + +<P> +"The needle!" grunted Burke. "Here, I've got it from his pocket." +</P> + +<P> +He drew forth a small hypodermic needle syringe from Craig's coat +pocket, and held it up. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a frame-up!" squealed Craig. +</P> + +<P> +"Take him quick. I want to save the girl!" exclaimed Burke, as he +rushed toward Baxter. +</P> + +<P> +That young man was just pushing the girl into the taxicab when a +middle-aged woman rushed out from the store entrance. +</P> + +<P> +"That's my daughter Helen! Helen, my child!" +</P> + +<P> +At this there was terrific confusion in the crowd, and Burke saw Baxter +give the girl a rough shove away from the taxicab door. He slipped a +bill into the chauffeur's willing hand and muttered an order. The car +sprang forward on the instant. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll get that fellow this time!" muttered Burke. "He hasn't seen me, +and I'll trail him." +</P> + +<P> +He turned about and espied a big gray racing car drawn up at the curb. +A young man weighted down under a heavy load of goggles, fur and other +racing appurtenances sat in the car. Its engines were humming merrily. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, you, follow that car for me," sung out Officer 4434, delighted at +his discovery. "The taxicab with the black body." +</P> + +<P> +The driver of the racer snorted contemptuously. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know who <I>I</I> am?" +</P> + +<P> +Burke wasted no time, but jumped into the seat, for it was as opportune +as though placed there by Providence. Perhaps Providence has more to +do with some coincidences than the worldly wise are prone to confess. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>I'm</I> Officer 4434 of the Police Department, and you mind my orders." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'm Reggie Van Nostrand," answered the young man, "and I take +orders from no man." +</P> + +<P> +Burke knew this young millionaire by reputation. But he was nowise +daunted. He kept his eye on the distant taxicab, which had luckily +been halted at the second cross street by the delayed traffic. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to put this pretty car of yours in the scrap heap, and I'm +going to land you in jail, with all your money," calmly replied Burke, +drawing his revolver. "The man in that taxi is a white slaver who just +tried the poison needle on a girl, and you and I are going to capture +him." +</P> + +<P> +The undeniable sporting blood surged in the veins of Reggie Van +Nostrand, be it said to his credit. It was not the threat. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm with you, Officer!" He pressed a little lever with his foot and +the big racing machine sprang forward like a thing possessed by a demon +of speed. +</P> + +<P> +The traffic officer on the other street tried to stop the car, until he +saw the uniform of the policeman in the seat. +</P> + +<P> +Bob waved his hand, and the fixed post man held back several machines, +in order to give him the right of way. +</P> + +<P> +They were now within a block of the other car. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, haven't you another robe or coat that I can put on to cover my +uniform, for that fellow will suspect a chase, anyway?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, there at your feet," replied Van Nostrand shortly. "It's my +father's. He'll be wondering who stole me and the car. Let him +wonder." +</P> + +<P> +Burke pulled up the big fur coat and drew it around his shoulders as +the car rumbled forward. He found a pair of goggles in a pocket of the +coat. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't need a hat with these to mask me," he exclaimed. "Now, watch +out on your side of the car, and I'll do it on mine, for he's a sly +one, and will turn down a side street." +</P> + +<P> +They did well to keep a lookout, for suddenly the pursued taxi turned +sharply to the right. +</P> + +<P> +After it they went—not too close, but near enough to keep track of its +manoeuvres. +</P> + +<P> +"He's going up town now!" said Reggie Van Nostrand, when the car had +diverged from the congested district to an open avenue which ran north +and south. The machine turned and sped along merrily toward Harlem. +</P> + +<P> +"We're willing," said Burke. "I want to track him to his headquarters." +</P> + +<P> +Block after block they followed the taxicab. Sometimes they nosed +along, at Burke's suggestion, so far behind that it seemed as though a +quick turn to a side street would lose their quarry. But it was +evident that Baxter had a definite destination which he wished to reach +in a hurry. +</P> + +<P> +At last they saw the car stop, and then the youth ahead dismounted. +</P> + +<P> +He was paying the chauffeur as they whizzed past, apparently giving him +no heed. +</P> + +<P> +But before they had gone another block Burke deemed it safe to stop. +</P> + +<P> +He signaled Van Nostrand, who shut off the power of the miraculous car +almost as easily as he had started it. Burke nearly shot over the +windshield with the momentum. +</P> + +<P> +"Some car!" he grunted. "You make it behave better than a horse, and I +think it has more brains." +</P> + +<P> +Nothing in the world could have pleased the millionaire more than this. +He was an eager hunter himself by now. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, supposing I take off my auto coat and run down that street and +see where he goes to?" +</P> + +<P> +"Good idea. I'll wait for you in the machine, if you're not afraid of +the police department." +</P> + +<P> +"You bet I'm not. Here, I'll put on this felt hat under the seat. +They won't suspect me of being a detective, will they?" +</P> + +<P> +"Hardly," laughed Burke, as the young society man emerged from his +chrysalis of furs and goggles, immaculately dressed in a frock coat. +He drew out an English soft hat and even a cane. "You are ready for +war or peace, aren't you?" +</P> + +<P> +Van Nostrand hurried down the street and turned the corner, changing +his pace to one of an easy and debonair grace befitting the possessor +of several racing stables of horses and machines. +</P> + +<P> +He saw his man a few hundred yards down the street. Van Nostrand +watched him sharply, and saw him hesitate, look about, and then turn to +the left. He ascended the steps of a dwelling. +</P> + +<P> +By the time Van Nostrand had reached the house, to pass it with the +barest sidelong glance, the pursued had entered and closed the door. +The millionaire saw, to his surprise, a white sign over the door, +"Swedish Employment Bureau." The words were duplicated in Swedish. +</P> + +<P> +"That's a bally queer sign!" muttered Reggie. "And a still queerer +place for a crook to go. I'll double around the block." +</P> + +<P> +As he turned the corner he saw an old-fashioned cab stop in front of +the house. Two men assisted a woman to alight, unsteadily, and helped +her up the steps. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, she must be starving to death, and in need of employment," +commented the rich young man. "I think the policeman has brought me to +a queer hole. I'll go tell him about it." +</P> + +<P> +The fashionable set who dwell on the east side of Central Park would +have spilled their tea and cocktails about this time had they seen the +elegant Reggie Van Nostrand breaking all speed records as he dashed +down the next street, with his cane in one hand and his hat in the +other. He reached the car, breathless, but his tango athletics had +stood him in good stead. +</P> + +<P> +"What's up?" asked Burke, jumping from the seat. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, that's a Swedish employment agency, and I saw two men lead a +woman up the steps from a cab just now. What shall we do?" +</P> + +<P> +"You run your machine to the nearest drug store and find out where the +nearest police station is. Then get a few cops in your machine, and +come to that house, for you'll find me there," ordered Burke. "How far +down the block?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nearly to the next corner," answered Reggie, who leaped into his +racing seat and started away like the wind. +</P> + +<P> +Burke hurried down, following the path of the other, until he came to +the house. He looked at the sign, and then glanced about him. He saw +an automobile approaching, and intuitively stepped around the steps of +the house next door, into the basement entry. +</P> + +<P> +He had hardly concealed himself when the machine stopped in front of +the other dwelling. +</P> + +<P> +A big Swede, still carrying his emigrant bundle, descended from the +machine, and called out cheerily in his native language to the +occupants within the vehicle. Burke, peeping cautiously, saw two buxom +Swedish lassies, still in their national costumes, step down to the +street. The machine turned and passed on down the street. +</P> + +<P> +Burke saw the man point out the sign of the employment agency, and the +girls chattered gaily, cheered up with hopes of work, as he led them up +the steps. +</P> + +<P> +The door closed behind them. +</P> + +<P> +Burke quietly walked around the front of the house and up the steps +after them. He had made no noise as he ascended, and as he stood by +the wall of the vestibule he fancied he detected a bitter cry, muffled +to an extent by the heavy walls. +</P> + +<P> +He examined the sign, and saw that it was suspended by a small wire +loop from a nail in the door jamb. +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie reached upward, took the sign off its hook, and turned it about. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, just as I thought!" he exclaimed. +</P> + +<P> +On the reverse side were the tell-tale letters, "Y.W.C.A." +</P> + +<P> +"They are ready for all kinds of customers. I wonder how they'll like +me!" was the humorous thought which flitted through his mind as he +quietly turned the knob. It opened readily. +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie stood inside the hallway, face to face with the redoubtable Pop! +</P> + +<P> +Pop's eyes protruded as they beheld this horrid vision of a bluecoat. +A cynical smile played about Burke's pursed lips as he held the sign up +toward the old reprobate. +</P> + +<P> +"Can I get a job here? Is there any work for me to do in this +employment agency?" he drawled quietly. +</P> + +<P> +Pop acted upon the instinct which was the result of many years' +dealings with minions of the law. He had been a contributor to the +"cause" back in the days of Boss Tweed. He temporarily forgot that +times had changed. +</P> + +<P> +"That's all right, pal," he said, with a sickly smile, "just a little +token for the wife and kids." +</P> + +<P> +He handed out a roll of bills which he pressed against Bobbie's hands. +The policeman looked at him with a curious squint. +</P> + +<P> +"So, you think that will fix me, do you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, if you're a little hard up, old fellow, you know I'm a good +fellow...." +</P> + +<P> +Up the stairs there was a scuffle. +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie heard another scream. So, before Pop could utter another sound +he pushed the old man aside and rushed up, three steps at a time. The +first door he saw was locked—behind it Bobbie knew a woman was being +mistreated. +</P> + +<P> +He rushed the door and gave it a kick with his stout service boots. +</P> + +<P> +A chair was standing in the hall. He snatched this up and began +smashing at the door, directing vigorous blows at the lock. The first +leg broke off. Then the second. The third was smashed, but the fourth +one did the trick. The door swung open, and as it did so a water +pitcher, thrown with precision and skill, grazed his forehead. Only a +quick dodge saved him from another skull wound. +</P> + +<P> +Burke sprang into the room. +</P> + +<P> +There were three men in it, while Madame Blanche, the proprietress of +the miserable establishment, stood in the middle transfixed with fear. +She still held in her hand the black snake whip with which she had been +"taming" one of the sobbing Swedish girls. The Swede held one of his +country-women in a rough grip. +</P> + +<P> +The country girl, who had been hitherto locked in the closet, was down +on her knees, her bruised hands outstretched toward Burke. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, save me!" she cried. +</P> + +<P> +The last of the victims, who was evidently unconscious from a drug, was +lying on the floor in a pathetic little heap. +</P> + +<P> +Baxter was cowering behind the bed. +</P> + +<P> +The barred windows, placed there to prevent the escape of the +unfortunate girl prisoners, were their Nemesis, for they were at the +mercy of the lone policeman. +</P> + +<P> +"Drop that gun!" snapped Burke, as he saw the Swede reaching stealthily +toward a pocket. +</P> + +<P> +His own, a blue-steeled weapon, was swinging from side to side as he +covered them. +</P> + +<P> +"Hands up, every one, and march down these stairs before me!" he +ordered. Just then he heard a footstep behind him. Old Pop was +creeping up the steps with Madame Blanche's carving knife, snatched +hastily from the dining-room table. +</P> + +<P> +Burke, cat-like, caught a side glance of this assailant, and he swung +completely around, kicking Pop below the chin. That worthy tumbled +down the stairs with a howl of pain. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, I'm going to shoot to kill. Every court in the state will +sustain a policeman who shoots a white-slaver. Don't forget that!" +cried Burke sharply. "You girls let them go first." +</P> + +<A NAME="img-196"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-196.jpg" ALT=""I'm going to shoot to kill. Every court in the state will sustain a policeman who shoots a white-slaver."" BORDER="2" WIDTH="633" HEIGHT="458"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 633px"> +"I'm going to shoot to kill. Every court in the state will sustain a policeman who shoots a white-slaver." +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Down the steps went the motley crew, backing slowly at Burke's order. +The girls, sobbing hysterically with joy at their rescue, almost +impeded the bluecoat's defense as they clung to his arms. +</P> + +<P> +It was a curious procession which met the eyes of Reggie Van Nostrand +and half a dozen reserves who had just run up the steps. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I say old chap, isn't this jolly?" cried Reggie. "This beats +any show I ever saw! Why, it's a regular Broadway play!" +</P> + +<P> +"You bet it is, and you helped me well. The papers ought to give you a +good spread to-morrow, Mr. Van Nostrand," answered Bobbie grimly, as he +shook the young millionaire's hand with warmth. The gang were rapidly +being handcuffed by the reserves. +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie turned toward Baxter. It was a great moment of triumph for him. +"Well, Baxter, so I got you at last! You're the pretty boy who takes +young girls out to turkey trots! Now, you can join a dancing class up +the Hudson, and learn the new lock-step glide!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE REVENGE OF JIMMIE THE MONK +</H4> + +<P> +At the uptown station house Burke and his fellow officers had more than +a few difficulties to surmount. The two Swedish girls were hysterical +with fright, and stolid as the people of northern Europe generally are, +under the stress of their experience the young women were almost +uncontrollable. It was not until some gentle matrons from the Swedish +Emigrant Society had come to comfort them in the familiar tongue that +they became normal enough to tell their names and the address of the +unfortunate cousin. This man was eventually located and he led his +kinswomen off happy and hopeful once more. +</P> + +<P> +Sallie, the negress, was remanded for trial, in company with her +sobbing mistress, who realized that she was facing the certainty of a +term of years in the Federal prison. +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Sam and his legal assistants are not kind to "captains of +industry" in this particular branch of interstate commerce. +</P> + +<P> +"We have the goods on them," said the Federal detective who had been +summoned at once to go over the evidence to be found in the carefully +guarded house of Madame Blanche. "This place, to judge from the +records has been run along two lines. For one thing, it is what we +term a 'house of call.' Madame Blanche has a regular card index of at +least two hundred girls." +</P> + +<P> +"Then, that gives a pretty good list for you to get after, doesn't it?" +said Burke, who was joining in the conference between the detective, +the captain of the precinct, and the inspector of the police district. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, the list won't do much good. About all you can actually prove +is that these girls are bad ones. There's a description of each girl, +her age, her height, her complexion and the color of her hair. It's +horribly business like," replied the detective. "But I'm used to this. +We don't often get such a complete one for our records. This list +alone is no proof against the girls—even if it does give the list +price of their shame, like the tag on a department store article. This +woman has been keeping what you might call an employment agency by +telephone. When a certain type of girl is wanted, with a certain +price—and that's the mark of her swellness, as you might call +it—Madame Blanche is called up. The girl is sent to the address +given, and she, too, is given her orders over the telephone; so you see +nothing goes on in this house which would make it strictly within the +law as a house of ill repute." +</P> + +<P> +"But, do you think there is much of this particular kind of trade?" +queried Bobbie. "I've heard a lot of this sort of thing. But I put +down a great deal of it to the talk of men who haven't anything else +much to discuss." +</P> + +<P> +"There certainly is a lot of it. When the police cleaned up the old +districts along Twenty-ninth Street and Thirtieth and threw the regular +houses out of the business, the call system grew up. These girls, many +of them, live in quiet boarding houses and hotels where they keep up a +strict appearance of decency—and yet they are living the worst kind of +immoral lives, because they follow this trade scientifically." +</P> + +<P> +Reggie Van Nostrand, by reason of his gallant assistance, and at his +urgent request, had been allowed to listen. +</P> + +<P> +"By George, gentlemen, I have a lot of money that I don't know what to +do with. I wish there was some way I could help in getting this sort +of thing stopped. Here's my life—I've been a silly spender of a lot +of money my great grandfather made because he bought a farm and never +sold it—right in the heart of what is now the busy section of town. I +can't think of anything very bad that I've done, and still less any +good that will amount to anything after I die. I'm going to spend some +of what I don't need toward helping the work of cleaning out this evil." +</P> + +<P> +The inspector grunted. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, young man, if you spend it toward letting people know just how +bad conditions are, and not covering the truth up or not trying to +reform humanity by concealing the ugly things, you may do a lot. But +don't be a <I>reformer</I>." +</P> + +<P> +"What can be done with this woman Blanche?" asked Van Nostrand meekly. +</P> + +<P> +"She'll be put where she won't have to worry about telephone calls and +card indexes. Every one of these girls should be locked up, and given +a good strong hint to get a job. It won't do much good. But, we've +got this much of their records, and will be able to drive some of them +out of the trade. When every big city keeps on driving them out, and +the smaller cities do the same, they'll find that it's easier to give +up silk dresses forever and get other work than to starve to death. +But you can't get every city in the country doing this until the men +and women of influence, the mothers and fathers are so worked up over +the rottenness of it all that they want to house-clean their own +surroundings." +</P> + +<P> +"One thing that should be done in New York and other towns is to put +the name of the owner of every building on a little tablet by the door. +If that was done here in New York," said the inspector, "you'd be +surprised to see how much real estate would be sold by church vestries, +charitable organizations, bankers, old families, and other people who +get big profits from the high rent that a questionable tenant is +willing to pay." +</P> + +<P> +"Madame Blanche, and these poor specimens of manhood with her are +guilty of trafficking in girls for sale in different states. These +Swedes were to be sent to Minnesota, and her records show that she has +been supplying the Crib, in New Orleans, and what's left of the Barbary +Coast in Chicago. Why, she has sent six girls to the Beverly Club in +Chicago during the last month." +</P> + +<P> +"Where does she get them all?" asked Burke. "I've been trailing some +of these gangsters, but they certainly can't supply them all, like +this." +</P> + +<P> +The detective shook his head, and spoke slowly. +</P> + +<P> +"There are about three big clearing houses of vice in New York, and +they are run by men of genius, wealth and enormous power. I'm going to +run them down yet. You've helped on this, Officer Burke. If you can +do more and get at the men higher up—there's not a mention of their +location in all of Blanche's accounts, not a single check book—then, +you will get a big reward from the Department of Justice. For Uncle +Sam is not sleeping with the enemy inside his fortifications." +</P> + +<P> +Burke's eyes snapped with the fighting spirit. +</P> + +<P> +"I've been doing my best with them since I got on the force, and I hope +to do more if they don't finish me first. A little Italian fruit man +down in my precinct sent word to me to-day that they were 'after me.' +So, maybe I will not have a chance." +</P> + +<P> +Van Nostrand interrupted at this point. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Officer 4434, you can have the backing of all the money you need +as far as I am concerned. You'll have to come down to my offices some +day soon, and we'll work out a plan of getting after these people. Can +I do anything more, inspector?" +</P> + +<P> +The official shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"There's a poor young woman here who is half drugged, and doesn't know +who she is," he began. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, send her to some good private hospital and have her taken care +of and send the bill to me," said Reggie. "I've got to be getting +downtown. Goodbye, Officer Burke, don't forget me." +</P> + +<P> +"Goodbye—you've been a fine chauffeur and a better detective," said +the young policeman, "even if you are a millionaire." And the two +young men laughed with an unusual cordiality as they shook hands. +Despite the difference in their stations it was the similarity of red +blood in them both which melted away the barriers, and later developed +an unconventional and permanent friendship between them. +</P> + +<P> +Burke talked with Henrietta Bailey, the country girl, who sat +dejectedly in the station house. She had no plans for the future, +having come to the big city to look for a position, trusting in the +help of the famous Y.W.C.A. organization, of whose good deeds and +protection she had heard so much, even in the little town up state. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll call them up, down at their main offices," said Bobbie, "but it's +a big society and they have all they can do. Wouldn't you like to meet +a nice sweet girl who will take a personal interest in you, and go down +there with you herself?" +</P> + +<P> +Henrietta tried to hold back the tears. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, land sakes," she began, stammering, "I ... do ... want to just +blubber on somebody's shoulder. I'm skeered of all these New York +folks, and I'm so lonesome, Mr. Constable." +</P> + +<P> +"We'll just cure that, then," answered Burke. "I'll introduce you to +the very finest girl in the world, and she'll show you that hearts beat +as warmly in a big city as they do in a village of two hundred people." +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie lost no time in telephoning Mary Barton, who was just on the +point of leaving Monnarde's candy store. +</P> + +<P> +She came directly uptown to meet the country girl and take her to the +modest apartment for the night. +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie devoted the interim to making his report on the unusual +circumstances of his one-man raid ... and dodging the police reporters +who were on the scene like hawks as soon as the news had leaked out. +</P> + +<P> +Despite his declaration that the credit should go to the precinct in +which the arrests had been made half a dozen photographers, with their +black artillery-like cameras had snapped views of the house, and some +grotesque portraits of the young officer. Other camera men, with +newspaper celerity, had captured the aristocratic features of Reggie +Van Nostrand and his racing car, as he sat in it before his Fifth +Avenue club. It was such a story that city editors gloated over, and +it was to give the embarrassed policeman more trouble than it was worth. +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie's telephone report to Captain Sawyer, explaining his absence +from the downtown station house was greeted with commendation. +</P> + +<P> +"That's all right, Burke, go as far as you like. A few more cases like +that and you'll be on the honor list for the Police Parade Day. Clean +it up as soon as you can," retorted his superior. +</P> + +<P> +When Mary took charge of Henrietta Bailey, the hapless girl felt as +though life were again worth living. After a good cry in the matron's +room, she was bundled up, her rattan suitcase and the weather-beaten +band boxes were carried over to the Barton home. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know whether you had better say anything about this Baxter to +Lorna or not," said Bobbie, as he stood outside the house, to start on +his way downtown. "It's a horrible affair, and her escape from the +man's clutches was a close one." +</P> + +<P> +"She's cured now, however," stoutly declared Mary. "I have no fears +for Lorna." +</P> + +<P> +"Then do as you think best. I'll see you to-morrow afternoon, there at +the store, and you can take supper downtown with me if you would like. +If there is any way I can help about this girl let me know." +</P> + +<P> +They separated, and Mary took her guest upstairs. +</P> + +<P> +Her father was greatly excited for he had just put the finishing +touches on his dictagraph-recorder. His mind was so over-wrought with +his work that Mary thought it better not to tell him of the exciting +afternoon until later. She simply introduced Henrietta as a friend +from the country who was going to spend the night. Lorna was courteous +enough to the newcomer, but seemed abstracted and dreamy. She +neglected the little household duties, making the burden harder for +Mary. Henrietta's rustic training, however, asserted itself, and she +gladly took a hand in the preparation of the evening meal. +</P> + +<P> +"I've a novel I want to finish reading, Mary," said her sister, "and if +you don't mind I'm going to do it. You and Miss Bailey don't need me. +I'll go into our room until supper is ready." +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, dear? It must be very interesting," replied Mary, a shade +of uneasiness coming over her. "You are not usually so literary after +the hard work at the store all day." +</P> + +<P> +Lorna laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"It's time I improved my mind, then. A friend gave it to me—it's the +story of a chorus girl who married a rich club man, by Robin Chalmers, +and oh, Mary! It's simply the most exciting thing you ever read. The +stage does give a girl chances that she never gets working in a store, +doesn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"There are several kinds of chances, Lorna," answered the older girl +slowly. "There are many girls who beautify their own lives by their +success on the stage, but you know, there are a great many more who +find in that life a terrible current to fight against. While they may +make large salaries, as measured against what you and I earn, they must +rehearse sometimes for months without salary at all. If the show is +successful they are in luck for a while, and their pictures are in +every paper. They spend their salary money to buy prettier clothes and +to live in beautiful surroundings, and they gauge their expenditures +upon what they are earning from week to week. But girls I have known +tell me that is the great trouble. For when the play loses its +popularity, or fails, they have accustomed themselves to extravagant +tastes, and they must rehearse for another show, without money coming +in." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, but a clever girl can pick out a good opportunity." +</P> + +<P> +"No, she can't. She is dependent upon the judgment of the managers, +and if you watch and see that two of every three shows put on right in +New York never last a month out, you'll see that the managers' judgment +is not so very keen. Even the best season of a play hardly lasts +thirty weeks—a little over half a year, and so you must divide a +girl's salary in two to find what she makes in a year's time. You and +I, in the candy store, are making more money than a girl who gets three +times the money a week on the stage, for we have a whole year of work, +and we don't have to go to manicures and modistes and hairdressers two +or three times a week." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I wish we did!" retorted Lorna petulantly. "There's no romance +in you, Mary. You're just humdrum and old-fashioned and narrow. Think +of the beautiful costumes, and the lights, the music, the applause of +thousands! Oh, it must be wonderful to thrill an audience, and have +hundreds of men worshiping you, and all that, Mary." +</P> + +<P> +Her sister's eyes filled with tears as she turned away. +</P> + +<P> +"Go on with your book, Lorna," she murmured. "Maybe some day you'll +read one which will teach you that old fashions are not so bad, that +there's romance in home and that the true, decent love of one man is a +million times better than the applause, and the flowers, and the +flattery of hundreds. I've read such books." +</P> + +<P> +"Hum!" sniffed Lorna, "I don't doubt it. Written by old maids who +could never attract a man, nor look pretty themselves. Well, none of +the girls I know bother with such books: there are too many lively ones +written nowadays. Call me when supper is ready, for I'm hungry." +</P> + +<P> +And she adjusted her curls before flouncing into the bedroom to lose +herself in the adventures of the patchouli heroine. +</P> + +<P> +It was a quiet evening at the Barton home. The father was too +engrossed to give more than abstracted heed, even to the appetizing +meal. Mary forbore to interrupt his thoughts about the new machine. +She felt a hesitation about narrating the afternoon's adventures of +Bobbie Burke to Lorna, for the girl seemed estranged and eager only for +the false romance of her novel. With Henrietta, Mary discussed the +opportunities for work in the great city, already overcrowded with +struggling girls. So convincing was she, the country lass decided that +she would take the train next morning back to the little town where she +could be safe from the excitement and the dangers of the city lure. +</P> + +<P> +"I reckon I'm a scared country mouse," she declared. "But I'm old +enough to know a warning when I get one. The Lord didn't intend me to +be a city girl, or he wouldn't have given me this lesson to-day. I've +got my old grand dad up home, and there's Joe Mills, who is foreman in +the furniture factory. I think I'd better get back and help Joe spend +his eighteen a week in the little Clemmons house the way he wanted me +to do." +</P> + +<P> +"You couldn't do a better thing in the world," said Mary, patting her +hand gently as they sat in the cosy little kitchen. "Your little town +would be a finer place to bring up little Joes and little Henriettas +than this big city, wouldn't it? And I don't believe the right Joe +ever comes but once in a girl's life. There aren't many fellows who +are willing to share eighteen a week with a girl in New York." +</P> + +<P> +Mary's guest blushed happily as the light of a new determination shone +in her eyes. She opened a locket which she wore on a chain around her +neck. +</P> + +<P> +"I always thought Joe was nice, and all that—but I read these here +stories about the city fellers, and I seen the pictures in the +magazines, and thought Joe was a rube. But he ain't, is he?" +</P> + +<P> +She held up the little picture, as she opened the locket, for Mary's +scrutiny. The honest, smiling face, the square jaw, the clear eyes of +Joe looked forth as though in greeting of an old friend. +</P> + +<P> +"You can't get back to Joe any too quickly," advised Mary, and +Henrietta wiped her eyes. She had received a homeopathic cure of the +city madness in one brief treatment! +</P> + +<P> +It was not a quiet evening for Officer 4434. +</P> + +<P> +When he emerged from the Subway at Fourteenth Street a newsboy +approached him with a bundle of papers. +</P> + +<P> +"Uxtry! Uxtry!" shouted the youngster. "Read all about de cop and de +millionaire dat captured de white slavers!" +</P> + +<P> +The lad shoved a paper at Bobbie, who tossed him a nickel and hurried +on, quizzically glancing at the flaring headlines which featured the +name of Reggie Van Nostrand and his own. The quickly made +illustrations, showing his picture, the machine of the young clubman, +and the house of slavery were startling. The traditional arrow +indicated "where the battle was fought," and Burke laughed as he +studied the sensational report. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I look more like a gangster, according to this picture, than +Jimmie the Monk! Those news photographers don't flatter a fellow very +much." +</P> + +<P> +At the station house he was warmly greeted by his brother officers. It +was embarrassing, to put it mildly; Burke had no desire for a pedestal. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, quit it, boys," he protested. "You fellows do more than this +every day of your lives. I'm only a rookie and I know it. I don't +want this sort of thing and wish those fool reporters had minded their +own business." +</P> + +<P> +"That's all right, Bobbie," said Doctor MacFarland, who had dropped in +on his routine call, "you'd better mind your own p's and q's, for you +will be a marked man in this neighborhood. It's none too savory at +best. You know how these gunmen hate any policeman, and now they've +got your photograph and your number they won't lose a minute to use +that knowledge. Keep your eyes on all points of the compass when you +go out to-night." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll try not to go napping, Doc," answered Burke gratefully. "You're +a good friend of mine, and I appreciate your advice. But I don't +expect any more trouble than usual." +</P> + +<P> +After his patrol duty Burke was scheduled for a period on fixed post. +It was the same location as that on which he had made the acquaintance +of Jimmie the Monk and Dutch Annie several months before. As a +coincidence, it began to storm, just as it had on that memorable +evening, except that instead of the blighting snow blizzards, furious +sheets of rain swept the dirty streets, and sent pedestrians under the +dripping shelter of vestibules and awnings. +</P> + +<P> +Burke, without the protection of a raincoat, walked back and forth in +the small compass of space allowed the peg-post watcher, beating his +arms together to warm himself against the sickening chill of his +dripping clothes. +</P> + +<P> +As he waited he saw a man come out of the corner saloon. +</P> + +<P> +It was no other than Shultberger, the proprietor of the café and its +cabaret annex. The man wore a raincoat, and a hat pulled down over his +eyes. He came to the middle of the crossing and closely scrutinized +the young policeman. +</P> + +<P> +"Is dot you, Burke?" he asked gruffly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, what do you want of me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Veil, I joost vanted to know dat a good man vos on post to-night, for +I expect troubles mit dese gun-men. Dey don't like me, und I t'ought +I'd find out who vos here." +</P> + +<P> +This struck 4434 as curious. He knew that Shultberger was the guardian +angel of the neighborhood toughs in time of storm and trouble. Yet he +was anxious to do his duty. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the trouble? Are they starting anything?" +</P> + +<P> +The saloon man shook his head as he started back to his café. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no. But ve all know vot a fighter you vos to-day. De papers is +full mit it. Dey've got purty picture of you, too. I joost vos +skeered dot dey might pick on me because I vos always running a orderly +place, und because I'm de frend of de police. I'll call you if I need +you." +</P> + +<P> +He disappeared in the doorway. +</P> + +<P> +Burke watched him, thinking hard. Perhaps they were planning some +deviltry, but he could not divine the purpose of it. At any rate he +was armed with his night stick and his trusty revolver. He had a clear +space in which to protect himself, and he was not frightened by ghosts. +So, alert though he was, his mind was not uneasy. +</P> + +<P> +He turned casually, on his heels, to look up the Avenue. He was +startled to see two stocky figures within five feet of him. That quick +right-about had saved him from an attack, although he did not realize +it. The approach of the men had been absolutely noiseless. +</P> + +<P> +The rain beat down in his face, and the men hesitated an instant, as +though interrupted in some plan. It did not occur to Burke that they +had approached him with a purpose. +</P> + +<P> +He looked at them sharply, by force of habit. Their evil faces showed +pallid and grewsome in the flickering light of the arc-lamp on the +corner by Shultberger's place. +</P> + +<P> +The two men glared at him shrewdly, and then passed on by without a +word. They walked half way down the block, and Burke, watching them +from the corner of his eye, saw them cross the street and turn into the +rear entrance of Shultberger's cabaret restaurant. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, he's having some high-class callers to-night," mused Burke. +"Perhaps he'll need a little help after all." +</P> + +<P> +Even as he thought this he heard a crash of broken glass, and he turned +abruptly toward the direction of the sound. +</P> + +<P> +The arc-light had gone out. +</P> + +<P> +Burke walked across the street and fumbled with his feet, feeling the +broken glass which had showered down near the base of the pole. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder what happened to that lamp? They don't burst of their own +accord like this generally." +</P> + +<P> +He walked back to his position. The street was now very dark, because +the nearest burning arc-lamp was half a block to the south. As Burke +pondered on the situation he heard footsteps to his left. He turned +about and a familiar voice greeted him. It was Patrolman Maguire. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Burke, your sins should sure be washed away in this deluge! I +thought that I'd step up a minute and give you a chance to go get some +dry clothes and a raincoat. You've another hour on the peg before I +relieve you, but hustle down to the station house and rig yourself up, +me lad." +</P> + +<P> +It was a welcome cheery voice from the dismal night shades. But Burke +objected to the suggestion. +</P> + +<P> +"No, Maguire, I'll stick it out. I think there's trouble brewing, and +it's only sixty more minutes. You keep on your patrol. We both might +get a call-down for changing." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, begorra, if there's any call-down for a little humanity, I don't +give a rap. You go get some dry clothes. I know Cap. Sawyer won't +mind. You can be back here in five minutes. You've done enough to-day +to deserve a little consideration, me boy. Hustle now!" +</P> + +<P> +Burke was chilled to the marrow and his teeth chattered, even though it +was a Spring rain, and not the icy blasts of the earlier post nights. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, keep a sharp lookout for this crowd around Shultberger's, Mack!" +</P> + +<P> +He yielded, and turned toward the station house with a quick stride. +He had hardly gone half a block before Maguire had reason to remember +the warning. A cry of distress came from the vestibule of +Shultberger's front entrance. The lights of the saloon had been +suddenly extinguished. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, and that's some monkey business," thought Maguire, as he ran +toward the doorway. +</P> + +<P> +He pounded on the pavement with his night stick, and the resonant sound +stopped Burke's retreat to the station. Officer 4434 wheeled about and +ran for the post he had just left. +</P> + +<P> +Maguire had barely reached the doorway of the saloon when a revolver +shot rang out, and the red tongue licked his face. +</P> + +<P> +"Now we got 'im!" cried a voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Kill the rookie!" +</P> + +<P> +"That's Burke, all right!" +</P> + +<P> +Maguire felt a stinging sensation in his shoulder, and his nightstick +dropped with a thud to the sidewalk. Three figures pounded upon him, +and again the revolver spoke. This time there was no fault in the aim. +A gallant Irish soul passed to its final goal as the weapon barked for +the third time. +</P> + +<P> +Burke's heart was in his mouth; it was no personal fear, but for the +beloved comrade whom he felt sure had stepped into the fate intended +for himself. He drew his revolver as he ran, and swung his stick from +its leathern handle thong resoundingly on the sidewalk as he raced +toward the direction of the scuffle. +</P> + +<P> +A short figure darted out from a doorway as he approached the corner +and deftly stuck a foot forward, tripping the policeman. +</P> + +<P> +"Beat it, fellers!" called this adept, whose voice Burke recognized as +that of Jimmie the Monk. It was a clever campaign which the gangsters +had laid out, but their mistake in picking the man cost them dearly. +</P> + +<P> +As he called, the Monk darted down the street for a quick escape, +feeling confident that his enemy was lying dead in the doorway on the +corner. Burke forgot the orders of the Mayor against the use of +fire-arms; his mind inadvertently swung into the fighting mood of the +old days in the Philippines, when native devils were dealt justice as +befitted their own methods. +</P> + +<P> +He had fallen heavily on the wet pavement, and slid. But, at the +recognition of that evil voice, he rolled over, and half lying on the +pavement he leveled his revolver at the fleeting figure of the gang +leader. +</P> + +<P> +Bang! One shot did the work, and Jimmie the Monk crumpled forward, +with a leg which was never again to lead in another Bowery "spiel" or +club prize fight. +</P> + +<P> +"He's fixed," thought Burke, and he sprang up, to run forward to the +vestibule of Shultberger's. There he found the body of Maguire +sprawled out, with the blood of the Irish kings mingling with the +rainwater on the East Side street. +</P> + +<P> +One man was hiding in the doorway's shelter. Another was scuttling +down the street, to run full into the arms of an approaching roundsman. +</P> + +<P> +As Burke stooped over the form of his comrade a black-jack struck his +shoulder. He sprang upward, partially numbed from the blow, but +summoning all his strength he caught the gangster by the arm and +shoulder and flung him bodily through the glass door which smashed with +a clatter. +</P> + +<P> +Burke kicked at the door as he fought with the murderer, and his weight +forced it open. +</P> + +<P> +A whisky bottle whizzed through the air from behind the bar. +Shultberger was in the battle. Burke's night stick ended the struggle +with his one assailant, and he ran for the long bar, which he vaulted, +as the saloon-keeper dodged backward. Another revolver shot +reverberated as the proprietor retreated. But, at this rough and +tumble fight, Burke used the greatest fighting projectile of the +policeman; he threw the loaded night stick with unerring aim, striking +Shultberger full in the face. The man screamed as he fell backward. +</P> + +<P> +Half a dozen policemen had surrounded the saloon by this time, and +Burke fumbled around until he found the electric light switch near the +cash register. He threw a flood of light on the scene of destruction. +</P> + +<P> +Shultberger, pulling himself up to his knees, his face and mouth gory +from the catapult's stroke, moaned with agony as he clawed blindly. +Patrolman White was tugging at the gangster who had been knocked +unconscious by Burke's club. Outside two of the uniformed men were +reverently lifting the corpse of Terence Maguire, who was on his +Eternal Fixed Post. +</P> + +<P> +"Have ... have you sent ... for an ambulance?" cried Bobbie. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Burke," said the sergeant, who had examined the dead man. "But +it's too late. Poor Mack, poor old Mack!" +</P> + +<P> +A patrol wagon was clanging its gong as the driver spurred the horses +on. Captain Sawyer dismounted from the seat by the driver. The bad +news had traveled rapidly. Suddenly Burke, remembering the fleeing +Jimmie, dashed from the saloon, and forced his way through the swarming +crowd which had been drawn from the neighboring tenements by the +excitement. +</P> + +<P> +"Is the boy crazy?" asked Sawyer. "Hurry, White, and notify the +Coroner, for I don't intend to allow Terence Maguire to lie in this +rotten den very long." +</P> + +<P> +Burke ran along the wet street, looking vainly for the wounded +gang-leader. Jimmie was not in sight! Burke went the entire length of +the block, and then slowly retraced his steps. +</P> + +<P> +He scrutinized every hallway and cellar entrance. +</P> + +<P> +At last his vigilance was rewarded. Down the steps, beneath a +half-opened bulkhead door, he found his quarry. +</P> + +<P> +The Monk was moaning with pain from a shattered leg-bone. +</P> + +<P> +Burke clambered down and tried to lift the wounded man. +</P> + +<P> +"Get up here!" he commanded. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, dey didn't get ye, after all!" cried Jimmie, recognizing his +voice. He sank his teeth in the hand which was stretched forth to help +him. Burke swung his left hand, still numb from the black-jack blow on +his shoulder, and caught the ruffian's nose and forehead. A vigorous +pull drew the fellow's teeth loose with a jerk. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you dog!" grunted the policeman, as he dragged the gangster to +the street level. "You'll have iron bars to bite before many hours, +and then the electric chair!" +</P> + +<P> +Jimmie's nerve went back on him. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Gaud! Dey can't do dat! I didn't do it. I wasn't dere!" +</P> + +<P> +Burke said nothing, but holding the man down to the pavement with a +knee on his back, he whistled for the patrol wagon. +</P> + +<P> +The prisoners were soon arraigned, Shultberger, Jimmie the Monk and the +first gangster were sent to the hospital shortly after under guard. +The second runner, who had been caught by White, was searched, and by +comparison of the weapons and the empty chambers of each one the police +deduced that it was he who had fired the shots which killed Maguire. +The entire band, including the saloon-keeper, were equally guilty +before the law, and their trial and sentencing to pay the penalty were +assured. +</P> + +<P> +But back in the station house, late that night, the thought of +punishment brought little consolation to a heart-broken corps of +policemen. +</P> + +<P> +Big, husky men sobbed like women. Death on duty was no stranger in +their lives; but the loss of rollicking, generous Maguire was a bitter +shock just the same. +</P> + +<P> +And next morning, as Burke read the papers, after a wretched, sleepless +night, he saw the customary fifteen line article, headed: "ANOTHER +POLICEMAN MURDERED BY GANGSTERS." Five million fellow New Yorkers +doubtless saw the brief story as well, and passed it by to read the +baseball gossip, the divorce news, or the stock quotations—without a +fleeting thought of regret. +</P> + +<P> +It was just the same old story, you know. +</P> + +<P> +Had it been the story of a political boss's beer-party to the bums of +his ward; had it been an account of Mrs. Van Astorbilt's elopement with +a plumber; had it been the life-story of a shooting show girl; had it +been the description of the latest style in slit skirts; had it been a +sarcastic message from some drunken, over-rated city official; had it +been a sympathy-squad description of the hardships and soul-beauties of +a millionaire murderer it would have met with close attention. +</P> + +<P> +But what is so stale as the oft-told, ever-old yarn of a policeman's +death? +</P> + +<P> +"What do we pay them for?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +LORNA'S QUEST FOR PLEASURE +</H4> + +<P> +In the same morning papers Burke saw lengthy notices of the engagement +of Miss Sylvia Trubus, only child of William Trubus, the famous +philanthropist, to Ralph Gresham, the millionaire manufacturer of +electrical machinery. +</P> + +<P> +"There, that should interest Mr. Barton. His ex-employer is marrying +into a very good family, to put it mildly, and Trubus will have a very +rich son-in-law! I wonder if she'll be as happy as I intend to make +Mary when she says the word?" +</P> + +<P> +He cut one of the articles out of the paper, putting it into his pocket +to show Mary that evening. He had a wearing and sorrowful day; his +testimony was important for the arraignment of the dozen or more +criminals who had been rounded up through his efforts during the +preceding twenty-four hours. The gloom of Maguire's death held him in +its pall throughout the day in court. +</P> + +<P> +He hurried uptown to meet Mary as she left the big confectionery store +at closing time. +</P> + +<P> +Mary had been busy and worried through the day. At noon she had gone +to the station to bid goodbye to Henrietta Bailey, who was now well on +her way to the old town and Joe. +</P> + +<P> +As the working day drew to a close Mary was kept busy filling a large +order for a kindly faced society woman and her pretty daughter. +</P> + +<P> +"You have waited on me several times before," she told Mary, "and you +have such good taste. I want the very cutest bon-bons and favors, and +they must be delivered up on Riverside Drive to our house in time for +dinner. You know my daughter's engagement was announced in the papers +to-day, while we had intended to let it be a surprise at a big dinner +party to-night. Well, the dear girl is very happy, and I want this +dinner to give her one of the sweetest memories of her life." +</P> + +<P> +Mary entered into the spirit with zest, and being a clever saleswoman, +she collected a wonderful assortment of dainty novelties and +confections, while the manager of the store rubbed his hands together +gleefully as he observed the correspondingly wonderful size of the bill. +</P> + +<P> +"There, that should help the jollity along," said Mary. "I hope I have +pleased you. I envy your daughter, not for the candies and the dinner, +but for having such a mother. My mother has been dead for years." +</P> + +<P> +The tears welled into her eyes, and the customer smiled tenderly at her. +</P> + +<P> +"You are a dear girl, and if ever I have the chance to help you I will; +don't forget it. I am so happy myself; perhaps selfishly so. But my +life has been along such even lines, such a wonderful husband, and such +a daughter. I am so proud of her. She is marrying a young man who is +very rich, yet with a strong character, and he will make her very happy +I am sure. Well, dear, I will give you my address, for I wish you +would see personally that these goodies are delivered to us without +delay." +</P> + +<P> +Mary took her pad and pencil. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. William Trubus—Riverside Drive." +</P> + +<P> +The girl's expression was curious; she remembered Bobbie's description +of the husband. It hardly seemed possible that such a man could be +blessed with so sweet a wife and daughter—but such undeserved +blessings seem too often to be the unusual injustice of Fate in this +twisted, tangled old world, as Mary well knew. +</P> + +<P> +"All right, Mrs. Trubus; I shall follow your instructions and will go +to the delivery room myself to see that they are sent out immediately." +</P> + +<P> +"Good afternoon, my dear," and Mrs. Trubus and her happy daughter left +the store. +</P> + +<P> +Mary was as good as her word, and she made sure that the several +parcels were on their way to Riverside Drive before she returned to the +front of the store. When she did so she saw a little tableau, +unobserved by the busy clerks and customers, which made her heart stand +still. +</P> + +<P> +Lorna was standing by one of the bon-bon show cases talking to a tall +stranger who ogled her in bold fashion, and a manner which indicated +that the conversation was far from that of business. +</P> + +<P> +"Who can that be?" thought Mary. An intuition of danger crept over her +as she watched the shades of sinister suggestion on the face of the man +who whispered to her sister. +</P> + +<P> +The man was urging, Lorna half-protesting, as though refusing some +enticing offer. +</P> + +<P> +Mary stepped closer, and the deep tones of the stranger's voice filled +her with a thrill of loathing. It was a voice which she felt she could +never forget as long as she lived. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-227"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-227.jpg" ALT="The deep tones of the stranger's voice filled her with a thrill of loathing." BORDER="2" WIDTH="622" HEIGHT="450"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 622px"> +The deep tones of the stranger's voice filled her with a thrill of loathing. +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +"Come up to my office with me when you finish work and I'll book you up +this very evening. The show will open in two weeks, and I will give +you a speaking part, maybe even one song to sing. You know I'm strong +for you, little girl, and always have been. My influence counts a +lot—and you know influence is the main thing for a successful actress!" +</P> + +<P> +Mary could stand it no longer. +</P> + +<P> +She touched Lorna on the arm, and the younger girl turned around +guiltily, her eyes dropping as she saw her sister's stern questioning +look. +</P> + +<P> +"Who is this man, Lorna?" +</P> + +<P> +The stranger smiled, and threw his head back defiantly. +</P> + +<P> +"A friend of mine." +</P> + +<P> +"What does he want?" +</P> + +<P> +"That is none of your affair, Mary." +</P> + +<P> +"It is my affair. You are employed here to work, not to talk with men +nor to flirt. You had better attend to your work. And, as for you, I +shall complain to the manager if you don't get out of here at once!" +</P> + +<P> +The stranger laughed softly, but there was a brutal twitch to his jaw +as he retorted: "I'm a customer here, and I guess the manager won't +complain if I spend money. Here, little girlie, pick me out a nice box +of chocolates. The most expensive you have. I'm going to take my +sweetheart out to dinner, and I am a man who spends his money right. +I'm not a cheap policeman!" +</P> + +<P> +Mary's face paled. +</P> + +<P> +Her blood boiled, and only the breeding of generations of gentlewomen +restrained her from slapping the man's face. She watched Lorna, who +could not restrain a giggle, as she took down a be-ribboned candy box, +and began to fill it with chocolate dainties. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, if Bobbie were only here!" thought Mary in despair. "This man is +a villain. It is he who has been filling Lorna's mind with stage talk. +I don't believe he is a theatrical man, either. They would not insult +me so!" +</P> + +<P> +The manager bustled about. +</P> + +<P> +"Closing time, girls. Get everything orderly now, and hurry up. You +know, the boss has been kicking about the waste light bills which you +girls run up in getting things straight at the end of the day." +</P> + +<P> +Mary turned to her own particular counter, and she saw the big man +leave the store, as the manager obsequiously bowed him out. +</P> + +<P> +In the wardrobe room where they kept their wraps, Mary took Lorna +aside. Her eyes were flaming orbs, as she laid a trembling hand upon +the girl's arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Lorna, you are not going to that man's office?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, not right away," responded her sister airily. "We are going to +Martin's first for a little dinner, and maybe a tango or two. What's +that to you, Mary? Stick to your policeman." +</P> + +<P> +Mary dropped her hand weakly. She put on her hat and street-coat, +hardly knowing what she was doing. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Lorna, child, you are so mistaken, so weak," she began. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not weak, nor foolish. A girl can't live decently on the money +they pay in this place. I'm going to show how strong I am by earning a +real salary. I can get a hundred a week on the stage with my looks, +and my voice, and my ... figure...." +</P> + +<P> +In spite of her bravado she hesitated at the last word. It was a +little daring, even to her, and she was forcing a bold front to +maintain her own determination, for the girl had hesitated at the man's +pleadings until her sister's interference had piqued her into obstinacy. +</P> + +<P> +"It won't hurt to find out how much I can get, even if I don't take the +offer at all," Lorna thought. "I simply will not submit to Mary's +dictation all the time." +</P> + +<P> +Lorna hurried to the street, closely followed by her sister. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't go, dear," pleaded Mary. +</P> + +<P> +But there by the curb panted a big limousine, such as Lorna had always +pictured waiting for her at a stage door; the big man smiled as he held +open the door. Lorna hesitated an instant. Then she espied, coming +around the corner toward them, Bobbie Burke, on his way to meet Mary. +</P> + +<P> +That settled it. She ran with a laugh toward the door of the +automobile and flounced inside, while the big man followed her, +slamming the portal as the car moved on. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Bob," sobbed Mary, as the young officer reached her side. "Follow +them." +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter?" +</P> + +<P> +"Look, that black automobile!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes!" +</P> + +<P> +"Lorna has gone into it with a theatrical manager. She is going on the +stage!" and Mary caught his hand tensely as she dashed after the car. +</P> + +<P> +It was a hopeless pursuit, for another machine had already come between +them. It was impossible for Burke to see the number of the car, and +then it turned around the next corner and was lost in the heavy traffic. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, what are we to do?" exclaimed Mary in despair. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, we can go to all the theatrical offices, and make inquiries. I +have my badge under my coat, and they will answer, all right." +</P> + +<P> +They went to every big office in the whole theatrical district. But +there, too, the search was vain. Mary was too nervous and wretched to +enjoy the possibility of a dinner, and so Burke took her home. Her +father asked for Lorna, to which Mary made some weak excuse which +temporarily quieted the old gentleman. +</P> + +<P> +Promising to keep up his search in restaurants and offices, Burke +hurried on downtown again. It was useless. Throughout the night he +sought, but no trace of the girl had been found. When he finally went +up to the Barton home to learn if the young girl had returned, he found +the old man frantic with fear and worriment. +</P> + +<P> +"Burke, some ill has befallen the child," he exclaimed. "Mary has +finally told me the truth, and my heart is breaking." +</P> + +<P> +"There, sir, you must be patient. We will try our best. I can start +an investigation through police channels that will help along." +</P> + +<P> +"But father became so worried that we called up your station. The +officer at the other end of the telephone took the name, and said he +would send out a notice to all the stations to start a search." +</P> + +<P> +"Great Scott! That means publicity, Miss Mary. The papers will have +the story sure, now. There have been so many cases of girls +disappearing lately that they are just eager for another to write up." +</P> + +<P> +Mary wrung her hands, and the old man chattered on excitedly. +</P> + +<P> +"Then if it is publicity I don't care. I want my daughter, and I will +do everything in the world to get her." +</P> + +<P> +Burke calmed them as much as he could, but if ever two people were +frantic with grief it was that unhappy pair. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-233"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-233.jpg" ALT="Father and daughter were frantic with grief." BORDER="2" WIDTH="420" HEIGHT="669"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 420px"> +Father and daughter were frantic with grief. +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Bobbie hurried on downtown again, promising to keep them advised about +the situation. +</P> + +<P> +After he left Mary went to her own room, and by the side of the bed +which she and the absent one had shared so long, she knelt to ask for +stronger aid than any human being could give. +</P> + +<P> +If ever prayer came from the depths of a broken heart, it was that +forlorn plea for the lost sister! +</P> + +<P> +All through the night they waited in vain. +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +The first page of every New York paper carried the sensational story of +the disappearance of Lorna Barton. Not that such a happening was +unusual, but in view of the white slavery arrests and the gang fight in +which Bobbie Burke had figured so prominently; his partial connection +with the case, and those details which the fertile-minded reporters +could fill in, it was full of human interest, and "yellow" as the heart +of any editor could desire. +</P> + +<P> +Pale and heart-sick Mary went down to Monnarde's next morning. The +girls crowded about her in the wardrobe room, some to express real +sympathy, others to show their condescension to one whom they inwardly +felt was far superior in manners, appearance and ability. +</P> + +<P> +Mary thanked them, and dry-eyed went to her place behind the counter. +For reasons best known to himself, the manager was late in arriving +that morning. The minutes seemed century-long to Mary as she hoped +against hope. +</P> + +<P> +A surprisingly early customer was Mrs. Trubus, who came hurrying in +from her big automobile. She went to Mary's counter and observed the +girl's demeanor. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear, was it your sister that I read about in the paper this morning?" +she inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," very meekly. Mary tried to hold back the tears which seemed so +near the surface. +</P> + +<P> +"I am so sorry. I remembered that you once spoke of your sister when +you were waiting on me. The paper said that she worked here at +Monnarde's, and I remembered my promise of yesterday that I would do +anything for you that I could. Mr. Trubus is greatly interested in +philanthropic work, and of course what I could do would be very small +in comparison to his influence. But if there is a single thing...." +</P> + +<P> +"There's not, I'm afraid. Oh, I'm so miserable—and my poor dear old +daddy!" +</P> + +<P> +Even as she spoke the manager came bustling into the store. He had +evidently passed an uncomfortable night himself, although from an +entirely different cause. In his hand he bore the morning paper, which +he just bought outside the door from one of several newsboys who stood +there shouting about the "candy store mystery," as one paper had +headlined it. +</P> + +<P> +"See, here!" cried he, turning to Mary at once. "What do you mean by +bringing this disgrace down upon the most fashionable candy shop in New +York. You will ruin our business." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Mr. Fleming," began Mary brokenly, "I don't understand what you +mean. I have done nothing, sir!" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing! <I>Nothing</I>! You and this miserable sister of yours! +Complaining to the police, are you, about men flirting with the girls +in my store? Do you think society women want to come to a shop where +the girls flirt with customers? No! I'm done right now. Get your hat +and get out of here!" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, what do you mean?" gasped the girl, her fingers contracting and +twitching nervously. +</P> + +<P> +"You're fired—bounced—ousted!" he cried. "That's what I mean." He +turned toward the other girls and in a strident voice, unmindful of the +two or three customers in the place, continued. "Let this be a lesson. +I will discharge every girl in the place if I see her flirting. The +idea!" +</P> + +<P> +And he pompously walked back to his office as important as a toad in a +lonely puddle. +</P> + +<P> +Mary turned to the counter, which she caught for support. One of the +girls ran to her, but Mrs. Trubus, standing close by, placed a motherly +arm about her waist. +</P> + +<P> +"There, you poor dear. Don't you despair. This is a large world, and +there are more places for an honest, clever girl to work in than a +candy store run by a popinjay! You get your hat and get right into my +car, and I will take you down to my husband's office, and see what we +can do there. Come right along, now, with me." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I must go home!" murmured Mary brokenly. +</P> + +<P> +But at the elderly woman's insistence she walked back, unsteadily, to +the wardrobe room for her hat and coat. +</P> + +<P> +"How dare you walk out the front way," raved the manager, as she was +leaving with Mrs. Trubus. +</P> + +<P> +Mary did not hear him. The tears, a blessed relief, were coursing down +her flower-white cheeks as the kindly woman steadied her arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Well! That suits me well enough," muttered Mr. Fleming +philosophically, as he retired to his private office. "I lost a lot at +poker last night—and here are two salaries for almost a full week that +won't go into anyone's pockets but my own. First, last and always, a +business man, say I." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHARITY AND THE MULTITUDE OF SINS +</H4> + +<P> +In the outer office of William Trubus an amiable little scene was being +enacted, far different from the harrowing ones which had made up the +last twelve hours for poor Mary. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Emerson, the telephone girl, was engaged in animated repartee with +that financial genius of the "Mercantile Agency," with whose workings +the reader may have a slight familiarity, located on the floor below of +the same Fifth Avenue building. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, dearie, during business hours I'm as hard as nails, but when I +shut up my desk I'm just as good a fellow as the next one. All work +and no play gathers no moss," remarked Mr. John Clemm. +</P> + +<P> +"You're a comical fellow, Mr. Clemm. I'd just love to go out to-night, +as you suggest. And if you've got a gent acquaintance who is like you, +I have the swellest little lady friend you ever seen. Her name is +Clarice, and she is a manicure girl at the Astor. We might have a +foursome, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"That's right, girlie," responded Clemm, as he ingratiatingly placed an +arm about her wasp-like waist. "But two's company, and four's too much +of a corporation for me." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Mr. Clemm—nix on this in here—Mr. Trubus is in his office, and +he'll get wise...." +</P> + +<P> +As she spoke, not Mr. Trubus, but his estimable wife interrupted the +progress of the courtship. She walked into the doorway, from the +elevator corridor, holding Mary's arm. +</P> + +<P> +As she saw the lover-like attitude of the plump Mr. Clemm, she gasped, +and then burst out in righteous indignation. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, you shameless girl, what do you mean by such actions in the +office of the Purity League? I shall tell my husband at once!" +</P> + +<P> +Miss Emerson sprang away from the amorous entanglement with Mr. Clemm +and tried to say something. She could think of nothing which befitted +the occasion; all her glib eloquence was temporarily asphyxiated. Mr. +Clemm stammered and looked about for some hole in which to conceal +himself. He, too, seemed far different from the pugnacious, +self-confident dictator who reigned supreme on the floor below. +</P> + +<P> +"William! William Trubus!" called the philanthropist's wife angrily. +Her husband heard from within, and he opened the door with a thoroughly +startled look. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear wife!" he began, purring and somewhat uncertain as to the +cause of the trouble. Mary, nervous as she was, observed a curious +interchange of glances between the two men. +</P> + +<P> +"William, I find this brazen creature standing here hugging this man, +as though your office, the Purity League's headquarters, were some +Lover's Lane! It is disgusting." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well, my dear," stammered Trubus. "Don't be too harsh." +</P> + +<P> +"I am not harsh, but I have too much respect for you and the high +ideals for which I know you battle every hour of the day to endure such +a thing. Suppose the Bishop had come in instead of myself? Would he +consider such actions creditable to the great purpose for which the +church takes up collections twice each year throughout his diocese?" +</P> + +<P> +Trubus tilted back and forth on his toes and tapped the ends of his +plump fingers together. He was sparring for time. The girl looked at +him saucily, and the offending visitor shrugged his shoulders as he +quietly started for the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Tut, tut, my dear! I shall reprimand the girl." +</P> + +<P> +"You shall discharge her at once!" insisted Mrs. Trubus, her eyes +flashing. "She will disgrace the office and the great cause." +</P> + +<P> +Trubus was in a quandary. He looked about him. Miss Emerson, with a +confident smile, walked toward the general office on the left. +</P> + +<P> +"I should worry about this job. I'm sick of this charity stuff anyway. +I'm going to get a cinch job with a swell broker I know. He runs a lot +of bunco games, too—but he admits. Don't let the old lady worry about +me, Mr. Trubus, but don't forget that I've got two weeks' salary coming +to me. And you just raised my weekly insult to twenty-five dollars +last Saturday, you know, Mr. Trubus." +</P> + +<P> +With this Parthian shot, she slammed the door of the general +stenographers' room, and left Mr. Trubus to face his irate wife. +</P> + +<P> +"You pay that girl twenty-five dollars for attending to a telephone, +William? Why, that's more money than you earned when we had been +married ten years. Twenty-five dollars a week for a telephone girl!" +</P> + +<P> +"There, my dear, it is quite natural. She is especially tactful and +worth it," said Trubus, in embarrassment. "You are not exactly tactful +yourself, my dear, to nag me in front of an employee. As the +Scriptures say, a gentle wife...." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Trubus gave the philanthropist one deep look which seemed to cause +aphasia on the remainder of the Scriptural quotation. +</P> + +<P> +For the first time Trubus noticed Mary Barton, standing in embarrassed +silence by the door, wishing that she could escape from the scene. +</P> + +<P> +"Who is this young person, my dear?" +</P> + +<P> +"This is a young girl who is in deep trouble, and without a position +through no fault of her own. I brought her down to your office to have +you help her, William." +</P> + +<P> +"But, alas, our finances are so low that we have no room for any +additional office force," began Trubus. +</P> + +<P> +"There, that will do. If you pay twenty-five dollars a week to the +telephone operator no wonder the finances are low. You have just +discharged her, and I insist on your giving this young lady an +opportunity." +</P> + +<P> +Trubus reddened, and tried to object. +</P> + +<P> +But his good wife overruled him. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you ever used a switchboard, miss?" he began. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir. In my last position I began on the switchboard, and worked +that way for nearly two months. I am sure I can do it." +</P> + +<P> +Trubus did not seem so optimistic. But, at his wife's silent +argument—looks more eloquent than a half hour of oratory, he nodded +grudgingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you can start in. Just hang your hat over on the wall hook. +Come into my office, my dear wife." +</P> + +<P> +They entered, and Mary sat down, still in a daze. She had been so +suddenly discharged and then employed again that it seemed a dream. +Even the terrible hours of the night seemed some hideous nightmare +rather than reality. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Emerson came from the side room, attired in a street garb which +would have brought envy to many a chorus girl. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, my dear, and so you are to follow my job. Well, I wish you joy, +sweetie. Tell Papa Trubus that I'll be back after lunch time for my +check. And keep your lamps rolling on the old gink and he'll raise +your salary once a month. He's not such a dead one if he is strong on +this charity game. Life with Trubus is just one telephone girl after +another ... ta, ta, dearie. I'm off stage." +</P> + +<P> +And she departed, leaving simple Mary decidedly mystified by her +diatribe. +</P> + +<P> +A few minutes brought another diversion. This time it was Sylvia +Trubus and Ralph Gresham, her fiancé, come for a call. +</P> + +<P> +"Is my father in?" she asked, absorbed in the well groomed, selfish +young man. Mary rang the private bell and announced Miss Trubus. Her +father hurried to the door, and when he saw his prospective son-in-law +his face wreathed in smiles. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, Mr. Gresham, Ralph, I might say, I am delighted! Come right in!" +</P> + +<P> +Mary was startled as she heard the name of the young girl's sweetheart. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid that she will not be as happy as she thinks, if daddy has +told me right about Ralph Gresham. But, oh, if I could hear something +from Bobbie about Lorna. I believe I will call him up." +</P> + +<P> +She was just summoning the courage for a private call when the private +office door opened, and Gresham, Sylvia, her mother and Trubus emerged. +</P> + +<P> +"I will return in ten minutes, Miss," said Trubus. "If there are any +calls just take a record of them. Allow no one to go into my private +office." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir." +</P> + +<P> +Mary waited patiently for a few moments, when suddenly a telephone bell +began to jangle inside the private office. +</P> + +<P> +"That's curious," she murmured, looking at her own key-board. "There's +no connection." Again she heard it, insistent, yet muffled. +</P> + +<P> +She walked to the door and opened it. As she did so the wind blew in +from the open casement, making a strong draught. Half a dozen papers +blew from Trubus' desk to the floor. Frightened lest her +inquisitiveness should cause trouble, Mary hurriedly stooped and picked +up the papers, carrying them back to the desk. As she leaned over it +she noticed a curious little metal box, glass-covered. Under this +glass an automatic pencil was writing by electrical connection. +</P> + +<P> +"What on earth can that be?" she wondered. The bell tinkled, in its +muffled way, once more. +</P> + +<P> +The moving pencil went on. She watched it, fascinated, even at the +risk of being caught, hardly realizing that she was doing what might be +termed a dishonorable act. +</P> + +<P> +"Paid Sawyer $250. Girl safe, but still unconscious." +</P> + +<P> +Mary's heart beat suddenly. The thought of her own sister was so +burdensome upon her own mind that the mention by this mysterious +communication of a girl, "safe but still unconscious," strung her +nerves as though with an electric shock. She leaned over the little +recording instrument, which was built on a hinged shelf that could be +cunningly swung into the desk body, and covered with a false front. As +she did so she saw a curious little instrument, shaped somewhat like +the receiver of a telephone receiver. Mary's experience with her +father's work told her what that instrument was. +</P> + +<P> +"A dictagraph!" she exclaimed. +</P> + +<P> +Instinctively she picked it up, and heard a conversation which was so +startling in its import to herself that her heart seemed to congeal for +an instant. +</P> + +<P> +"I tell you, Jack, the girl is still absolutely out of it. We can risk +shipping her anywhere the way she is now. I chloroformed her in the +auto as soon as we got away from the candy store. But that Burke +nearly had us, for I saw him coming." +</P> + +<P> +"You will have to dispose of her to-day, Shepard. Give her some strong +coffee—a good stiff needleful of cocaine will bring her around. Do +something, that's all, or you don't get a red cent of the remaining +three hundred. Now, I'm a busy man. You'll have to talk louder, too, +my hearing isn't what it used to be." +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Clemm, quit this kidding about your ears. I've tried you out and +you can hear better than I can. There's some game you're working on me +and if there is, I'll...." +</P> + +<P> +"Can the tragedy, Shepard. Save it for that famous whipping stunt of +yours. Beat this girl up a bit, and tell me where she is." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll do that in an hour, and not a minute sooner, and I've got to have +the other three hundred." +</P> + +<P> +Mary dropped the receiver. She wanted to know where that conversation +could come from. Down the side of the desk she traced a delicate wire. +Under the rug it went, and across to the window. She looked out. A +fire escape passed the window. It was open. She saw the little wire +cross through the woodwork to the outside brick construction and down +the wall. Softly she clambered down the fire-escape until she could +peer through the window on the floor below. +</P> + +<P> +There at a desk, in the private office of the "Mercantile" association, +sat the man who had been hugging her predecessor at Trubus' +switchboard, the man who had exchanged the curious looks with the +philanthropist. Talking to him was the man who had taken her sister +away from the candy store the day before! +</P> + +<P> +Hurriedly she climbed back up the fire escape into the window, out +through the door of the private office, closing it behind her. +</P> + +<P> +She telephoned Bobbie at the station house. Fortunately he was there. +She gave him her address, and before he could express his surprise +begged him to hurry to the doorway of the building and wait for her. +</P> + +<P> +He promised. +</P> + +<P> +Mary kept her nerves as quiet as she could, praying that the man Sawyer +would not leave before she could follow him with Bobbie. In a few +minutes one of the girls from the stenography room came out. Seeing +that she was the new girl the young woman spoke: "Do you want me to +relieve you while you go to lunch. I'm not going out to-day. I'm so +glad to see anyone here but that fresh Miss Emerson that it will be a +pleasure." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you. I do want to go now," said Mary nervously. She hurriedly +donned her hat and rushed down to the street. Bobbie was waiting for +her, as he had lost not a minute. +</P> + +<P> +They waited behind the big door column for several minutes. Suddenly a +man came swinging through the portal. It was Sawyer. +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie remembered him instantly, while Mary gripped his arm until she +pinched it. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll follow him," said Burke, for the girl had already told of the +dictagraph conversation. +</P> + +<P> +Follow him they did. Up one street and down another. At last the man +led them over into Burke's own precinct. He ascended the iron steps of +an old-fashioned house which had once been a splendid mansion in +generations gone by. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, that's where Lorna is hidden, as sure as you're standing here, +Mary. From what he said no harm has come to her yet. Hurry with me to +the station house, and we'll have the reserves go through that house in +a jiffy." +</P> + +<P> +It took not more than ten minutes for the police to surround the house. +But disappointment was their only reward. Somehow or other the rascals +had received a tip of premonition of trouble; perhaps Shepard was +suspicious of his principals, and wished to move the girl out of their +reach. +</P> + +<P> +The house was empty, except for a few pieces of furniture. +</P> + +<P> +"Look!" cried Mary, as she went through the rooms with Bob. "There is +a handkerchief. She snatched it up. It was one of her own, with the +initials "M. B." in a monogram. +</P> + +<P> +"Lorna has been here," she exclaimed. "I remember handing her that +very handkerchief when we were in the store yesterday." +</P> + +<P> +"What's to be done now?" thought Bobbie. "We had better go up to your +father and tell him what we know—it is not as bad as it might have +been." +</P> + +<P> +"Precious little comfort," sighed Mary, exhausted beyond tears. +</P> + +<P> +They reached the desolate home, and Bob broke the news to the old man. +As Mary poured forth her story of the discovery in Trubus' office, her +father's face lighted with renewed hope. +</P> + +<P> +To their surprise he laughed, softly, and then spoke: +</P> + +<P> +"Mary, my child, my long hours of study and labor on my own invention +have not been in vain. My dictagraph-recorder—this very model here, +which I have just completed shall be put to its first great test to +save my own daughter. Heaven could reward me in no more wonderful +manner than to let it help in the rescue of little Lorna—why did I not +think of it sooner?" +</P> + +<P> +"What shall we do, father?" breathlessly cried Mary. +</P> + +<P> +"Can I help, Mr. Barton?" +</P> + +<P> +"Describe the arrangement of the offices." +</P> + +<P> +Mary rapidly limned the plan of the headquarters of the Purity League. +Her father nodded and his lips moved as he repeated her words in a +whisper. +</P> + +<P> +"I have it now. You must put the instrument under the telephone +switchboard table," he directed. "Pile up a waste-basket, or something +that is handy to keep it out of view. I have already adjusted enough +fresh cylinders to record at least one hour of conversation. This +machine is run by an automatic spring, which you must wind like a +clock. Here I will wind it myself to have all in readiness." +</P> + +<P> +He rolled his chair swiftly to his work table, and turned the little +crank, continuing his plan of attack. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, take the long wire, and run it through the door of the private +office up close to the desk. Attach this disc to the dictagraph +receiver. It is so small, and the wiring so fine that it will not be +noticed if it is done correctly. Here, Burke. I will do it now to +this loose dictagraph receiver. Watch me." +</P> + +<P> +The old man worked swiftly. +</P> + +<P> +Burke scrutinized each move, and nodded in understanding. +</P> + +<P> +"Be careful to cover the wire along the floor with a rug—he must never +be allowed to see that, you know. After you have all this prepared, +Mary, you must start the mechanism going, and then get the reproduction +of the conversation as it comes on the dictagraph." +</P> + +<P> +"All right, father—but how shall we get it there without Mr. Trubus +knowing about it? He is very watchful of that room." +</P> + +<P> +Barton patted Bobbie's broad shoulder, with a confident smile. +</P> + +<P> +"I think Officer 4434 can devise a way for that. He has had harder +tasks and won out. Now, hurry down with the machine. It is a bit +heavy. You had better take it in a taxicab. You will spend all your +money on taxicabs, my boy, I am afraid." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, sir, a little money now isn't important enough to worry about if +it means happiness for the future—for us all." +</P> + +<P> +Mary's face reddened, and she dropped her eyes. There was an +understanding between the three which needed no words for explanation. +So it is that the sweetest love creeps into its final nestling place. +</P> + +<P> +"God bless you, my boy. I'm an old man and none too good, but I shall +pray for your success." +</P> + +<P> +"Good bye," said Bobbie, as he and Mary left with the mechanism. +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie stopped the taxicab which carried them half a block east of the +office building which was their goal. +</P> + +<P> +"Mary, I will take this machine up on the floor above Trubus' office, +and hide it in the hall. Then you go to your place in the office and I +will manage a way to draw Mr. Trubus out in a hurry. We will work +together after that, and spread the electric trap for him." +</P> + +<P> +Mary went direct to the office, where she found Trubus storming about +angrily. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean by staying nearly two hours out at luncheon time?" he +cried. "I am very busy and I want you to be here on duty regularly, +even if my wife did foolishly intercede in your behalf, young woman." +</P> + +<P> +"I am sorry—I became ill, and was delayed. I will not be late with +you again, sir." +</P> + +<P> +The president of the Purity League retired to his sanctum, slightly +mollified. Mary had not been at her post long when a messenger came in +with a telegram. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Trubus!" he said, shoving the envelope at her. +</P> + +<P> +She signed his book, and knocked at the door. There was a little +delay, and the worthy man opened it impatiently. "I do not want to be +interrupted, I am going over my accounts." +</P> + +<P> +She handed him the telegram, and he tore it open hastily. +</P> + +<P> +"What's this?" he muttered in excitement. Then he went back for his +silk hat, and left, slamming the door of his private office and +carefully locking it. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder what took him out so quickly?" thought Mary. But even as she +mused Bobbie Burke came into the outer office, with the precious +machine wrapped in yellow paper. +</P> + +<P> +"What took Trubus out, Bobbie?" she asked, as she helped him arrange +the machine behind the wastebasket, near the telephone switchboard. +</P> + +<P> +"Just a telegram, signed 'Friend,' advising him to watch the men who +came in the front door, downstairs, for ten minutes, but not to visit +Clemm's office. That will keep him away, and he can't possibly guess +who did it." +</P> + +<P> +"But, look, Bob, he has locked his door with a peculiar key. If you +force it he will be able to tell." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought he might do as much, Mary. I wouldn't risk tampering with +the lock. Instead, I found an empty room on the floor above. I have a +rope, and I will take the receiver of your father's machine with the +disc, and part of the wiring which I had already cut. There is no fire +escape from the floor above for some reason. He will suspect all the +less, then, for he would not think of anyone coming through the +headquarters on the floor below. I will go down hand over hand, you +shove the wire under the door to me, and I'll attach it. Then I'll go +up the ladder, and we'll let the dictagraph do its work." +</P> + +<P> +Thus it was accomplished. Mary covered the machine and its wiring in +the outer office, although several times she had to quit at inopportune +times to answer the telephone, or make a connection. +</P> + +<P> +Burke, from the room above, climbed down hurriedly, adjusted the +instrument as he had been told to do by John Barton. Then he was out, +barely drawing himself and the rope away from the window view before +Trubus entered. +</P> + +<P> +Mary thought that it was all discovered, but breathed a sigh of relief +when the president opened the door and entered without a remark. +</P> + +<P> +It was lucky for Burke that the day was so warm, for the president had +left the window open when he left, otherwise Burke could not possibly +have carried out his plan so opportunely. +</P> + +<P> +The telephone bell rang. Mary answered and was greeted by Bob's voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it you, Mary?" he exclaimed hurriedly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Then start your machine, for I saw this man Shepard go upstairs to the +floor beneath you." +</P> + +<P> +"All right, Bob," said Mary softly. +</P> + +<P> +"When the records are run out, unless I telephone you sooner, call one +of the girls to take your place, tell her you are sick, and smuggle out +the records—don't bother about the machine, we'll get that later. I +will be downstairs waiting for you." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. I understand." +</P> + +<P> +The time dragged horribly, but at last the hour had passed, and Mary +wrapped up the precious wax cylinders and hurried downstairs. +</P> + +<P> +Bob was pacing up and down anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"Shepard has eluded me. I was afraid to leave you, and he took an +auto, and disappeared over toward the East Side. I have telephoned +Captain Sawyer to have a phonograph ready for us. Come, we'll get over +to the station at once. I hope your records give us the clue. If they +don't, I'm afraid the trail is lost." +</P> + +<P> +They hurried to the station house. In the private office of the +Captain they found that officer waiting with eagerness. +</P> + +<P> +"What's it all about, Bob?" he cried. "Why this phonograph?" +</P> + +<P> +"It will explain itself, Captain," answered 4434. "Let's fix these +records in the regular way, and then we will run them in order." +</P> + +<P> +They did so in absolute silence. The Captain listened, first in +bewilderment, then in great excitement. +</P> + +<P> +"Great snakes! Where did you get those? That is a conversation +between a bunch of traffickers. Listen, they are buying and selling, +making reports and laying out their work for the night." +</P> + +<P> +"Sssh!" cautioned Bob. "There's something important we want to get." +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly Mary gripped his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"That's Shepard's voice. I'd never forget it." +</P> + +<P> +They listened. The man told of the condition of Lorna, mentioning her +by name now. She had returned to consciousness, and was detained in +the room of a house not five blocks from the police station. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll break her spirit now. None of this stage talk any more, Clemm," +droned the voice in the phonograph. "When I get my whip going she'll +be glad enough to put on the silk dresses. She screamed and cried a +while ago, but I'm used to that sort of guff." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't mark her up with the whip, Shepard. That's a weakness of yours, +and makes us lose money. Go over now and get her ready for to-night. +They want a girl like her for a party up-town to-night. Get her +scared, and then slip a little cocaine,—that eases 'em up. Then some +champagne, and it will be easy." +</P> + +<P> +Mary began to sob. Burke held her hand in his firm manner. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't cry, little girl, we'll attend to her. Captain Sawyer, this is +a record of a conversation we took on a new machine in the offices of +the Purity League. It connects with the 'Mercantile' office +downstairs, which is a headquarters for the white slave business. Now +we know the address of the house where this young girl is kept. Can I +have the reserves to help me raid it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, can you? Why, you will lead it my boy. Run out and order four +machines from that garage next door. We'll be there in two minutes." +</P> + +<P> +The reserves were summoned from their lounging room with such speed +that Mary was bewildered. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, may I go along?" she begged. "I want to be the first to greet my +little sister." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes!" cried Sawyer. "All out now, boys. We'll work this on time. I +know the house. It has a big back yard, and a fire-escape in the rear. +Half you fellows follow the sergeant, and go to the front—but stay +down by the corner until exactly four-thirty. Then break into the +front door with axes. The other half—you men in that second file" +(they were lined up with military precision in the big room of the +station house)—"go with Bob Burke. I want you to go up over the roof. +Use your night sticks if there is any gun play, shoot—but not to kill, +for we want to send these men to prison." +</P> + +<P> +They started off. Mary's heart fluttered with excitement, with hope. +There was something so reassuring about the husky manhood of these +blue-coats and the nonchalance and even delight with which they faced +the dangers before them. +</P> + +<P> +"Can I go in with them?" she cried eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"No, young lady, you stay with the sergeant, and sit in the automobile +when the men leave it. You're apt to get shot, and we want you to take +care of your sister." +</P> + +<P> +They were off on the race to save Lorna! +</P> + +<P> +Now the machines sped down the street. They separated at one +thoroughfare, and the men with Burke went down another street to +approach the house from the rear. This they did, quietly but rapidly, +through the basement of an old house whose frightened tenants feared +that they were to be arrested and lynched on the spot, to judge from +their terror. +</P> + +<P> +"Keep quiet," said Burke, "and don't look out of the windows, or we +will arrest you." +</P> + +<P> +Burke and his men peered at the building which was the object of their +attack. The fire escape came only down to the second story. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you fellows will have to give me a boost, and I'll jump for the +lower rungs. Then toss up one more man and I'll catch his hand. We +can go up together. You watch the doors." +</P> + +<P> +At exactly four thirty they dashed across the yard, scrambled over the +fence, and like Zouaves in an exhibition drill, tossed Burke up to the +lowest iron bar of the fire escape. He failed the first time. He +tumbled back upon them. The second time was successful. Patrolman +White was given a lift and Burke helped to pull him upon the +fire-escape. +</P> + +<P> +"Up, now, White! We will be behind the other fellows in the front!" +</P> + +<P> +They lost not a second. It was an ape-like climb, but the two trained +athletes made it in surprising time. +</P> + +<P> +As they reached the top of the building a man scrambled out of the trap +which led from the skylight. +</P> + +<P> +"Grab him," yelled Burke. +</P> + +<P> +White did so. This was prisoner number one. +</P> + +<P> +Down the ladder, through the opening Burke went and found himself in a +dingy garret, at the top of a rickety stair-case. He heard screams. +He descended the steps half a floor and peering from the angle, through +the transom of a room which led from the hall, he saw a fat old woman +standing with her hands on her hips, laughing merrily, while Shepard +was swinging a whip upon the shoulders of a screaming girl. Her +clothes were half torn from her back, and the whip left a red welt each +time it struck. +</P> + +<P> +Downstairs Burke heard the crashing of breaking doors. The raid was +progressing rapidly. Burke dashed down to the floor level and flung +himself upon the locked door. The first lunge cracked the lock. The +second swung the door back on its hinges. +</P> + +<P> +He half fell into the room. +</P> + +<P> +As he did so Lorna Barton saw him and in a flash of recognition, +screamed: "Oh, save me, Mr. Burke!" +</P> + +<P> +She staggered forward, and Shepard missed his aim, striking the fat +woman who squealed with pain. +</P> + +<P> +"I've got <I>you</I> now!" cried Burke, rushing for the ruffian with his +stick. +</P> + +<P> +"No, you haven't!" hissed Shepard, a fighting animal to the last. He +had whipped out a magazine gun from his coat pocket, and began firing +point-blank. Burke threw his stick at the man, but it went wild. +</P> + +<P> +His own revolver was out now, and he sent a bullet into the fellow's +shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +Shepard's left arm dropped limply. He dashed toward the door and +forced his way past, firing wildly at such close range that it almost +burst the gallant policeman's ear drums. +</P> + +<P> +Up the ladder he scurried like a wild animal, firing as he climbed. +</P> + +<P> +Burke was right behind him. +</P> + +<P> +Shepard ran for the fire-escape. Burke was after him. Each man was +wasting bullets. But as Shepard reached the edge of the roof Burke +took the most deliberate aim of his life, and sent a bullet into the +villain's breast. +</P> + +<P> +Shepard gasped, his hands went up, and he toppled over the cornice to +the back yard below. +</P> + +<P> +He died as he had lived, with a curse on his lip, murder in his heart, +and battling like a beast! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE FINISH +</H4> + +<P> +Burke rushed down the dilapidated steps once more to the room where +Lorna had undergone her bitter punishment. Already three bluecoats had +entered in time to capture the frantic old woman, while they worked to +bring the miserable girl back to consciousness. +</P> + +<P> +"She's coming around all right, Burke," said the sergeant. "Help me +carry her downstairs." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll do that myself," quoth Bobbie, feeling that the privilege of +restoring her to Mary had been rightfully earned. He picked her up and +tenderly lifted her from the couch where she had been placed by the +sergeant. Down the stairs they went with their prisoner, while +Patrolman White descended from the roof with his captive, whose hands +had been shackled behind his back. +</P> + +<P> +The house had the appearance of a cheap lodging place, and the dirty +carpet of the hall showed hard usage. As they reached the lower floor +Bobbie noticed Captain Sawyer rummaging through an imitation mahogany +desk in the converted parlor, a room furnished much after the fashion +of the bedroom of Madame Blanche in the house uptown. +</P> + +<P> +"What sort of place is it? A headquarters for the gang?" asked Bobbie, +as he hesitated with Lorna in his arms. +</P> + +<P> +"No, just the same kind of joint we've raided so many times, and we've +got hundreds more to raid," answered Sawyer. "I've found the receipts +for the rent here, and they've been paying about five times what it is +worth. The man who owns this house is your friend Trubus. This links +him up once more. There's a lot of information in this desk. But +hurry with the girl, Bobbie, for her sister is nearly wild." +</P> + +<P> +As Burke marched down the steps, carrying the rescued one, a big crowd +of jostling spectators raised a howl of "bravos" for the gallant +bluecoat. The nature of this evil establishment was well enough known +in the neighborhood, but people of that part of town knew well enough +to keep their information from the police, for the integrity of their +own skins. +</P> + +<P> +Mary had been kept inside the automobile with difficulty; now she +screamed with joy and sprang from the step to the street. Up the stone +stairs she rushed, throwing her arms about Lorna, who greeted her with +a wan smile; she had strength for no more evidence of recognition. +</P> + +<P> +"Here, chief," said the chauffeur of the hired car to Burke, "I always +have this handy in my machine. Give the lady a drink—it'll help her." +</P> + +<P> +He had drawn forth a brandy flask, and Burke quickly unscrewed the +cup-cap, to pour out a libation. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no!" moaned Lorna, objecting weakly, but Burke forced it between +her teeth. The burning liquid roused her energies and, with Mary's +assistance, she was able to sit up in the rear of the auto. +</P> + +<P> +"Take another, lady," volunteered the chauffeur. "It'll do you good." +</P> + +<P> +"Never. I've tasted the last liquor that shall ever pass my lips," +said Lorna. "Oh, Mary, what a horrible lesson I've learned!" +</P> + +<P> +Her sister comforted her, and turned toward Burke pleadingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Can I take her home, Bob? You know how anxious father is?" +</P> + +<P> +Captain Sawyer had come to the side of the automobile. He nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Miss Barton, the chauffeur will take her right up to your house. +Give her some medical attention at once, and be ready to come back with +her to the station house as soon as I send for you. I'm going to get +the ringleader of this gang in my net before the day is through. So +your sister should be here if she is strong enough to press the first +complaint. I'll attend to the others, with the Federal Government and +those phonograph records back of me! Hurry up, now." +</P> + +<P> +He turned to his sergeant. +</P> + +<P> +"Put these prisoners in the other automobile and call out the men to +clear this mob away from the streets. Keep the house watched by one +man outside and one in the rear. We don't know what might be done to +destroy some of this evidence." +</P> + +<P> +The automobile containing the two girls started on the glad homeward +journey at the Captain's signal. Bobbie waved his hat and the happy +tears coursed down his face. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Captain, I've got to face a serious investigation now," he said +to his superior as they went up the steps once more. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" exclaimed Sawyer in surprise, "You'll be a medal of honor +man, my boy." +</P> + +<P> +"I've killed a man." +</P> + +<P> +"You have! Well, tell me about your end of the raid. All this has +happened so quickly that we must get the report ready right here on the +spot, in order to have it exact." +</P> + +<P> +"This man Shepard, who seems to be the professional whipper of this +gang, as well as a procurer, fought me with a magazine revolver. I ran +him up to the roof, and I had to shoot him or be killed myself. That +means a trial, I know. You'll find his body back of the house, for he +fell off the roof at the end." +</P> + +<P> +"Self-defense and carrying out the law will cover you, my boy. Don't +worry about that. This city has been kept terror-stricken by these +gangsters long enough, because honest citizens have been compelled by a +ward politician's law to go without weapons of defense. A man is not +allowed to have a revolver in his own home without paying ten dollars a +year as a license fee. But a crook can carry an arsenal; I've always +had a sneaking opinion that there were two sides to the reasons for +that law. Then the city officials have given the public the idea that +the police were brutes, and have reprimanded us for using force with +these murderers and robbers. Force is the only thing that will tame +these beasts of the jungle. You can't do it with kisses and boxes of +candy!" +</P> + +<P> +Burke was rubbing his left forearm. +</P> + +<P> +"By Jingo! I believe I hurt myself." +</P> + +<P> +He rolled up his sleeve, and saw a furrow of red in his muscular +forearm. It was bleeding, but as he wiped it with his handkerchief he +was relieved to find that it was a mere flesh wound. +</P> + +<P> +"If Shepard had hit the right instead of the left—I would have been +left in the discard," he said, with grim humor. "Can you help me tie +it up for now. This means another scolding from Doctor MacFarland, I +suppose." +</P> + +<P> +"It means that you've more evidence of the need for putting a tiger out +of danger!" +</P> + +<P> +The coroner was called, and the statements of the policemen were made. +The Captain, with Burke and several men, deployed through the back yard +to the other house, leaving the grewsome duty of removing the body to +the coroner. The two waiting automobiles on the rear street were +crowded with policemen, as Sawyer ordered the chauffeur to drive +speedily to the headquarters of the Purity League. +</P> + +<P> +"We must clean out that hole, as we did this one!" muttered Sawyer. +"You go for Trubus, Burke, with one of the men, while I will take the +rest and close in on their 'Mercantile' office downstairs. We'll put +that slave market out of business in three minutes." +</P> + +<P> +They were soon on Fifth Avenue. The elevators carried the policemen up +to the third floor, and they sprang into the offices of the "Mercantile +Association" with little ado. +</P> + +<P> +The small, wan man who sat at the desk was just in the act of sniffing +a cheering potion of cocaine as the head of Captain Sawyer appeared +through the door. With a quick movement the lookout pressed two +buttons. One of them resulted in a metallic click in the door of the +strong iron grating. The other rang a warning bell inside the private +office of John Clemm. +</P> + +<P> +Sawyer pushed and shoved at the grilled barrier, but it was safely +locked with a strong, secret bolt. +</P> + +<P> +"Open this, or I'll shoot!" exclaimed the irate Captain. +</P> + +<P> +"You can't get in there. We're a lawful business concern," replied the +little man, squirming toward the door which led to the big waiting +room. "Where's your search warrant. I know the law, and you police +can't fool me." +</P> + +<P> +"This is my search warrant!" exclaimed Sawyer, as he sent a bullet +crashing into the wall, purposely aiming a foot above the lookout's +head. "Quick, open this door. The next shot won't miss!" +</P> + +<P> +There was a sound of overturned chairs and cries of alarm inside the +door. The little man felt that he had sounded his warning and lived up +to his duty. Had he completed that sniffing of the "koke," he would +doubtless have been stimulated to enough pseudo-courage to face the +entire Police Department single-handed—as long as the thrill of the +drug lasted. A majority of the desperate deeds performed by the +criminals in New York, so medical examinations have proved, are carried +on under the stimulus of this fearful poison, which can be obtained +with comparative ease throughout the city. +</P> + +<P> +But the lookout was deprived of his drug. He even endeavored to take a +sniff as the captain and his men shoved and shook the iron work of the +grating. +</P> + +<P> +"Drop it!" cried Sawyer, pulling the trigger again and burying another +bullet in the plaster. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, oh! Don't shoot!" cried the lookout weakly. He trembled as he +advanced to the grating and removed the emergency bolt. +</P> + +<P> +"Grab him!" cried Sawyer to one of his men. "Come with me, fellows." +He rushed into the waiting room. There consternation reigned. Fully a +dozen pensioners of the "system" of traffic in souls were struggling to +escape through the barred windows in the rear. These bars had been +placed as they were to resist the invaders from the outside. John +Clemm's system of defense was extremely ingenious. In time of trouble +he had not deemed the inmates of the middle room worth protecting—his +purpose was to exclude with the iron grating and the barred windows the +possible entry of raiders. +</P> + +<P> +Three revolvers were on the floor. Their owners had wisely discarded +them to avoid the penalty of the concealed weapon law, for they had +realized that they were trapped. +</P> + +<P> +"Open that door!" cried Sawyer, who had learned the arrangement of the +rooms from Burke's description. +</P> + +<P> +Two men pushed at the door, which was securely locked. They finally +caught up the nearest church pew, and, using it as a battering ram, +they succeeded in smashing the heavy oaken panels. The door had been +barricaded with a cross bar. As they cautiously peered in through the +forced opening they saw the room empty and the window open. +</P> + +<P> +"He's escaped!" exclaimed Sawyer. +</P> + +<P> +Just then a call from the outer vestibule reached his ears. +</P> + +<P> +"I've caught the go-between, Captain. Here's Mr. John Clemm, the +executive genius of this establishment," sung out Burke, who was +standing inside the door with the rueful fat man wearing the handcuffs. +</P> + +<P> +"Where did you get him, Burke?" +</P> + +<P> +"He tried to make a quiet getaway through the rescue department of the +Purity League," answered Officer 4434. "I nabbed him as he came up the +fire-escape from this floor." +</P> + +<P> +"Where is Trubus?" +</P> + +<P> +"He has gone home, so one of the stenographers tells me." +</P> + +<P> +"Then we will get him, too. Hurry now. White, I leave you in charge +of this place. Send for the wagon and take these men over to our +station house. Get every bit of paper and the records. We had better +look around in that private office first before we go after Trubus." +</P> + +<P> +They finished the demolition of the door and entered. +</P> + +<P> +"What's this arrangement?" queried Sawyer, puzzled, as he looked at the +automatic pencil box. +</P> + +<P> +"That is an arrangement by which this fellow Clemm has been making +duplicates of all his transactions in his own writing," explained +Burke. "You see this Trubus has trusted no one. He has a definite +record of every deal spread out before him by the other pencil on the +machine upstairs, just as this go-between writes it out. Then here is +the dictagraph, under the desk." +</P> + +<P> +Burke pointed out the small transmitting disc to the surprised captain. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, this man learned a lot from the detectives and applied it to his +trade very scientifically, didn't he?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, the records we have on the phonograph show that every word which +passed in this room was received upstairs by Trubus. No one but Clemm +knew of his connection or ownership of the establishment. Yet Trubus, +all the time that he was posing as the guardian angel of virtue, has +been familiar with the work of every procurer and every purchaser; it's +a wonderful system. If he had spent as much energy on doing the +charitable work that he pretended to do, think of how much misery and +sickness he could have cured." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Burke, it's the same game that a lot of politicians on the East +Side do. They own big interests and the gambling privileges in the +saloons, and they get their graft from the gangsters. Then about twice +a year they give a picnic for the mothers and babies of the drunkards +who patronize their saloons. They send a ticket for a bucket of coal +or a pair of shoes to the parents of young girls who work for the +gangsters and bring the profits of shame back tenfold on the investment +to these same politicians. They will spend a hundred dollars on +charity and the newspapers will run columns about it. But the poor +devils who cheer them and vote for them don't realize that every dollar +of graft comes, not out of the pockets of property owners and +employers, but from reduced wages, increased rents, and expensive, +rotten food. Trubus would have been a great Alderman or State Senator: +he wasted his talents on religion." +</P> + +<P> +Burke turned to the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Shall I go up to his house, Captain? I'd like to be in at the finish +of this whole fight." +</P> + +<P> +"You bet you can," said Sawyer. "It's now nearly six o'clock, and we +will jump into the machine and get up there before he can get out to +supper. The men will take care of these prisoners." +</P> + +<P> +After a few skillful orders, Sawyer led the way downstairs. They were +soon speeding up to the Riverside Drive residence of the +philanthropist, Sawyer and Burke enjoying the machine to themselves. +</P> + +<P> +"This is a joy ride that will not be so joyful for one man on the +return trip, Burke!" exclaimed Sawyer, as he took off his cap to mop +the perspiration from his brow. He had been through a strenuous +afternoon and was beginning to feel the strain. +</P> + +<P> +"How shall we approach his house?" asked Burke. +</P> + +<P> +"You get out of the machine and go to the door. There's no need of +alarming his family. Just tell the servant who answers the door that +you want to speak to the boss—say that there's been a robbery down at +his office, and you want to speak to him privately. Tell the servant +not to let the other members of the family know about it, as it would +worry them." +</P> + +<P> +"That's a good idea, Captain. I understand that his wife and daughter +are very fine women. It will save a terrible scene. What a shame to +make them suffer like this!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Burke. If these scoundrels only realized that their work always +made some good woman suffer—sometimes a hundred. Think of the women +that this villain has made to suffer, body and soul. Think of the +mothers' hearts he has broken while posing with his charity and his +Bible! All that wickedness is to be punished on his own wife and his +own daughter. I tell you, there's something in life which brings back +the sins of the fathers, all right, upon their children. The Good Book +certainly tells it right." +</P> + +<P> +The auto was stopped before the handsome residence of the Purity +League's leader. It seemed a bitter tangle of Fate that in these +beautiful surroundings, with the broad blue Hudson River a few hundred +yards away, the green of the park trees, the happy throng of +pedestrians strolling and chatting along the promenade of the Drive, it +should be Burke's duty to drag to punishment as foul a scoundrel as +ever drew the breath of the beautiful spring air. The sun was setting +in the heights of Jersey, across the Hudson, and the golden light +tinted the carved stone doorway of Trubus's home, making Burke feel as +though he were acting in some stage drama, rather than real life. The +spotlight of Old Sol was on him as he rang the bell by the entry. +</P> + +<P> +"Is Mr. Trubus home?" asked Burke of the portly butler who answered the +summons. +</P> + +<P> +"Hi don't know, sir," responded the servant, in a conventional +monotone. "What nyme, sir?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just tell him that it is a policeman. His office has been robbed, and +we want to get some particulars about it." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, sir, he's dressing for dinner, sir. You'll 'ave to wyte, sir. +Hi wouldn't dare disturb 'im now, sir." +</P> + +<P> +"You had better dare. This is very important to him. But don't +mention it to anyone else, for it would worry his wife and daughter." +</P> + +<P> +As Burke was speaking, a big fashionable car drew up behind the one in +which Captain Sawyer sat, awaiting developments. A young man, wearing +a light overcoat, whose open fold displayed a dinner coat, descended +and approached the door. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the trouble here?" he curtly inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"None of your business," snapped Burke, who recognized the fiancé, +Ralph Gresham. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you sauce me—I'll find out myself." +</P> + +<P> +The butler bowed as Gresham approached. +</P> + +<P> +"Come in, sir. Miss Trubus is hexpecting you, sir. This person is +wyting to see Mr. Trubus, sir." +</P> + +<P> +Gresham, with an angry look at the calm policeman, went inside. +</P> + +<P> +The door shut. Burke for a minute regretted that he had not insisted +on admission. It might have been possible for Trubus to have received +some sort of warning. The "best-laid plans of mice and men" had one +bad habit, as Burke recollected, just at the moment when success was +apparently within grasp. +</P> + +<P> +But the door opened again. The smug countenance, the neatly brushed +"mutton-chops," the immaculate dinner coat of William Trubus appeared, +and Bobbie looked up into the angry glint of the gentleman's black eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean by annoying me here? Why didn't you telephone me?" +began the owner of the mansion. "I am just going out to dinner." +</P> + +<P> +He looked sharply at Burke, vaguely remembering the face of the young +officer. Bobbie quietly stepped to his side and caught the knob of the +big door, shutting it softly behind Trubus. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, you...." +</P> + +<P> +Before he could finish Burke had deftly clipped one handcuff on the +right wrist of the man and with an unexpected movement pinioned the +other, snapping the manacle as he did so. +</P> + +<P> +"Outrageous!" exclaimed the astounded Trubus. But Burke was dragging +him rapidly into the car. +</P> + +<P> +"If you don't want your wife to know about this, get in quickly," +commanded Sawyer sharply. +</P> + +<P> +Trubus began to expostulate, but his thick lips quivered with emotion. +</P> + +<P> +"Down to the station house, quick!" ordered the captain to the +chauffeur. "No speed limit." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll have you discharged from the force for this, you scoundrel!" +Trubus finally found words to say. "Where is your warrant for my +arrest? What is your charge?" +</P> + +<P> +Sawyer did not answer. +</P> + +<P> +As they reached a subway station he called out to the driver: +</P> + +<P> +"Stop a minute. Now, Burke, you had better go uptown and get the +witness; hurry right down, for I want to end this matter to-night." +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie dismounted, while Trubus stormed in vain. As the car sped +onward he saw the president of the Purity League indulging in language +quite alien to the Scriptural quotations which were his usual stock in +discourse. Captain Sawyer was puffing a cigar and watching the throng +on the sidewalks as though he were stone deaf. +</P> + +<P> +Burke hurried to the Barton home. There he found a scene of joy which +beggared description. Lorna had recovered and was strong enough to run +to greet him. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Mr. Burke, can you ever forgive me for my silliness and ugly +words?" she began, as Mary caught the officer's hand with a welcome +clasp. +</P> + +<P> +"There, there, Miss Lorna, I've nothing to forgive. I'm so happy that +you have come out safe and sound from the dangers of these men," +answered Burke. "We have trapped the gang, even up to Trubus, and, if +you are strong enough to go down to the station, we will have him sent +with the rest of his crew to the Tombs to await trial." +</P> + +<P> +Old Barton reached for Burke's hand. +</P> + +<P> +"My boy, you have been more than a friend to me on this terrible yet +wonderful day. You could have done no more if you had been my own son." +</P> + +<P> +The excitement and his own tense nerves drove Bobbie to a speech which +he had been pondering and hesitating to make for several weeks. He +blurted it out now, intensely surprised at his own temerity. +</P> + +<P> +"Your own son, Mr. Barton.... Oh, how I wish I were.... And I hope +that I may be some day, if you and some one else are willing ... some +day when I have saved enough to provide the right sort of a home." +</P> + +<P> +He hesitated, and Lorna stepped back. Mary held out her hands, and her +eyes glowed with that glorious dilation which only comes once in a +life-time to one woman's glance for only one man's answering look. +</P> + +<P> +She held out her hands as she approached him. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Bob ... as though you had to ask!" was all she said, as the strong +arms caught her in their first embrace. Her face was wet with tears as +Bob drew back from their first kiss. +</P> + +<P> +John Barton was wiping his eyes as Burke looked at him in happy +bewilderment at this curious turn to his fortune. +</P> + +<P> +"My boy, Bob," began the old man softly, "would you take the +responsibility of a wife, earning no more money than a policeman can?" +</P> + +<P> +Bob nodded. "I'd do it and give up everything in the world to make her +happy if it were enough to satisfy her," he asserted. +</P> + +<P> +Barton lifted up a letter which had been lying on the table beside him. +He smiled as he read from it: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"DEAR MR. BARTON: +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"The patents have gone through in great shape and they are so basic +that no one can fight you on them. The Gresham Company has offered me, +as your attorney, fifty thousand dollars as an advance royalty, and a +contract for your salary as superintendent for their manufacture. We +can get even more. It may interest you to know that your friend on the +police force won't have to worry about a raise in salary. I have been +working on his case with a lawyer in Decatur, Illinois. His uncle is +willing to make a payment of twenty-four thousand dollars to prevent +being prosecuted for misappropriation of funds on that estate. I will +see you...." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Barton dropped the letter to his lap. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, how does that news strike you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can't believe it real," gasped Burke, rubbing his forehead. "But I +am more glad for you than for myself. You will have an immense +fortune, won't you?" +</P> + +<P> +Smiling into the faces of the two radiant girls, Old Barton drew Lorna +to his side and, reaching forward, tugged at the hand of Mary. +</P> + +<P> +"In my two dear girls, safe and happy, I have a greater wealth for my +old age than the National City Bank could pay me, Burke. Lorna has +told me of her experience and her escape when all escape seemed +hopeless. She has learned that the sensual pleasures of one side of +New York's glittering life are dross and death. In the books and silly +plays she has read and seen it was pictured as being all song and +jollity. Now she knows how sordid and bitter is the draught which can +only end, like all poison, in one thing. God bless you, my boy, and +you, my girls!" +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie shook the old man's hand, and then remembered the unpleasant +duty still before him. +</P> + +<P> +"We must get down town as soon as possible," syd he. "Come, won't you +go with us, Mary?" +</P> + +<P> +The two girls put on their hats and together they traveled to the +distant police station as rapidly as possible. It was a bitter ordeal +for Lorna, whose strength was nearly exhausted. The welts on her +shoulders from Shepard's whip brought the tears to her eyes. As they +reached the station house the girl became faint. The matron and Mary +had to chafe her hands and apply other homely remedies to keep her up +for the task of identifying the woman who had been captured. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, Burke," began Sawyer, "I have been saving Trubus for a surprise. +He has been locked up in my private office, and still doesn't know +exactly how we have caught him. I've broken the letter of the rules by +forbidding him to telephone anyone until you came. I guess it is +important enough, in view of our discovery, for me to have done +this—he can call up his lawyer as soon as we have confronted him with +Clemm and this young girl. Bring me the phonograph records." +</P> + +<P> +They went into his private office, where White was guarding Trubus. +</P> + +<P> +"How much longer am I to be subject to these Russian police methods?" +demanded Trubus, with an oath. +</P> + +<P> +"Quiet, now, Mr. Purity League," said Sawyer, "we are going to have +ladies present. You will soon be allowed to talk all you want. But I +warn you in advance that everything you say will be used as evidence +against you." +</P> + +<P> +"Against me—me, the leading charity worker of our city!" snorted +Trubus, but he watched the door uneasily. +</P> + +<P> +"Bring in the young ladies, Burke," directed Captain Sawyer. +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie returned with Mary and Lorna. Trubus started perceptibly as he +observed the new telephone girl whom his wife had induced him to employ +that day. +</P> + +<P> +Sawyer nodded again to Burke. +</P> + +<P> +"Now the go-between." He turned to Mary. "Do you know this man, Miss +Barton?" +</P> + +<P> +The name had a strangely familiar sound to Trubus. He wondered +uneasily. +</P> + +<P> +"He is William Trubus, president of the Purity League. I worked for +him to-day." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you recognize this man?" was queried, as Clemm shuffled forward, +with the assistance of Burke's sturdy push. +</P> + +<P> +"This is the one who was embracing the other telephone girl. But he +did not stay there long. I never saw him before that, to my +recollection." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you know about this man, Officer 4434?" asked the captain. +Clemm fumbled with his handcuffs, looking down in a sheepish way to +avoid the malevolent looks of Trubus. +</P> + +<P> +"He is known as John Clemm, although we have found a police record of +him under a dozen different aliases. He formerly ran a gambling house, +and at different times has been involved in bunco game and wire-tapping +tricks. He is one of the cleverest crooks in New York. In the present +case he has been the go-between for this man Trubus, who, posing as a +reformer to cover his activities, has kept in touch with the work of +the Vice Trust, managed by Clemm. They had a dictagraph and a +mechanical pencil register which connected Trubus's office with +Clemm's." +</P> + +<P> +"It's a lie!" shouted Trubus, furiously. "Some of these degraded +criminals are drawing my famous and honored name into this case to +protect themselves. It is a police scheme for notoriety." +</P> + +<P> +"You'll get the notoriety," retorted Sawyer. "There is a young man who +is taking notes for the biggest paper in New York. He has verified +every detail. They'll have extras on the streets in fifteen minutes, +for this is the biggest story in years. You are cornered at last, +Trubus. Send in the rest of those people arrested in that house owned +by Trubus." The woman was brought in with the others of the gang who +had been apprehended in the old house. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-282"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-282.jpg" ALT="The pretended philanthropist was cornered at last." BORDER="2" WIDTH="638" HEIGHT="457"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 638px"> +The pretended philanthropist was cornered at last. +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +"Now, Mr. Trubus, this woman rented from you and paid a very high +rental. The man Shepard was killed in resisting arrest. We have +rounded up Baxter, Craig, Madame Blanche and a dozen others of your +employees. Have you anything to say?" +</P> + +<P> +Trubus whirled around and would have struck Clemm had not White +intervened. +</P> + +<P> +"You squealer! You've betrayed me!" +</P> + +<P> +"No, I didn't!" cried Clemm, shrinking back. "I swear I didn't!" +</P> + +<P> +Sawyer reached for the phonograph records and held them up with a +laconic smile. +</P> + +<P> +"There's no use in accusing anyone else, Trubus. You're your own worst +enemy, for these records, with your own dictagraph as the chief +assistant prosecutor, have trapped you." +</P> + +<P> +Trubus raised his hands in terror and his iron nerve gave way +completely. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, my God!" he cried. "What will my wife and daughter think?" +</P> + +<P> +"You should have figured that out when you started all this," retorted +Sawyer. "Take them into the cells, and we'll have them arraigned at +Night Court. Make out the full reports now, men." +</P> + +<P> +The prisoners were led out. +</P> + +<P> +Trubus turned and begged with Sawyer for a little time. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me tell my wife," he pleaded. "I don't want any one else to do +it." +</P> + +<P> +"You stay just where you are, until I am through with you. You're +getting war methods now, Trubus—after waging war from ambush for all +this time. Burke, you had better have the young ladies taken home. Go +up with them. Use the automobile outside. You can have the evening +off as soon as we get through the arraignment at court." +</P> + +<P> +It took an hour before the first charges could be brought to the +Magistrate, through whose hands all cases must first be carried. The +sisters decided to stay and end their first ordeal with what testimony +was desired. This was sufficient for the starting of the wheels of +justice. Trubus had called up his lawyer, who was on hand with the +usual objections and instructions. But he was held over until the day +court, without bail. +</P> + +<P> +"Only let me go home, and break the news to my wife and daughter," +begged the subdued man. "Oh, I beg that one privilege." +</P> + +<P> +The judge looked at Captain Sawyer, who nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"I will send a couple of men up with him, your honor. I understand his +wife is a very estimable lady. It will be a bitter blow to her." +</P> + +<P> +"All right. You will have to go in the custody of the police. But I +will not release you on bail." +</P> + +<P> +Bobbie and the girls had already sped on their way to the happy Barton +home. Trubus, under the watchful eyes of two policemen and with his +lawyer, lost no time in returning to his mansion. +</P> + +<P> +As he rang the bell the butler hurried to the door in a frightened +manner. +</P> + +<P> +"It can't be true, sir, wot the pypers say, can it?" he gasped. But +Trubus forced his way past, followed by the attorney and his two guards. +</P> + +<P> +In the beautiful drawing-room he saw two maids leaning over the +Oriental couch. They were trying to quiet his daughter. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Sylvia, my child," he cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, oh!" exclaimed the girl, forcing herself free from the restraining +hands of the servants. She laughed shrilly as she staggered toward her +father. Her eyes were wide and staring with the light of madness. +"Here's father! Dear father!" +</P> + +<P> +Trubus paled, but caught her in his arms. +</P> + +<P> +"My poor dear," he began. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, look, father, what it says in the papers. We missed you—ha, +ha!—and the newsboys sold us this on the street. Look, father, +there's your picture. He, he! And Ralph bought it and brought it to +me." +</P> + +<P> +She staggered and sank half-drooping in his arms. Her head rolled back +and her eyes stared wildly at the ceiling. Her mad laughter rang out +shrilly, piercing the ears of her miserable father. The two policemen +and the lawyer watched the uncanny scene. +</P> + +<P> +"Ha, ha! Ralph read it, and he's gone. He wouldn't marry me now, he +said,—ha, ha! Father! Who cares? Oh, it's so funny!" She broke +from her father's hold and ran into the big dining room, pursued by the +sobbing maids. +</P> + +<P> +"She's gone crazy as a loon," whispered one of the policemen to the +other. +</P> + +<P> +"Where is my wife?" timidly asked Trubus, as he supported himself with +one hand on a table near the door. The frightened butler, with +choleric red face, pointed upward. +</P> + +<P> +Trubus drew himself up and started for the broad stairway. +</P> + +<P> +Just then a revolver shot smote the ears of the excited men. It came +from above. +</P> + +<P> +"Great God!" uttered Trubus, clasping his hand to his heart. He ran +for the stairs, followed by the two patrolmen, while the lawyer sank +weakly into a chair and buried his face in his hands. He guessed only +too well what had happened. +</P> + +<P> +The policemen were slower than the panic-stricken Trubus. +</P> + +<P> +They found him in his magnificent boudoir, kneeling and sobbing by the +side of his dead wife; a revolver had fallen to the floor from her limp +hand. It was still smoking. The exquisite lace coverlet was even now +drinking up the red stains, and the bluecoats stopped at the doorway, +dropping their heads as they instinctively doffed their caps. +</P> + +<P> +Gruff Roundsman Murphy crossed himself, while White wiped his eyes with +the back of his hand. He remembered a verse from the old days when he +went to Sunday-school in the Jersey town where he was born. +</P> + +<P> +"'Vengeance is mine,' saith the Lord." +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +The blossoms of late May were tinting the greensward beneath the trees +of Central Park as Bobbie Burke and Mary strolled along one of the +winding paths. They had just walked up the Avenue from their last +shopping expedition. +</P> + +<P> +"I hated to bid the boys at the station house good-bye this afternoon, +Mary. Yet after to-night we'll be away from New York for a wonderful +month in the country. And then no more police duty, is there?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, Bob. You and father will be the busiest partners in New York and +you will have to report for duty at our new little apartment every +evening before six. I'm so glad that you can leave all those dangers, +and gladder still because of my own selfish gratifications. After +to-night." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'm scared of to-night more than I was of that police parade on +May Day, with all that fuss about the medal. Here I've got to face a +minister, and you know that's not as easy as it seems." +</P> + +<P> +They reached the new home which the advance royalties for old Barton's +days of realization had made possible. It was a handsome apartment on +Central Park West, and the weeks of preparation had turned it into a +wonderful bower for this night of nights. +</P> + +<P> +"Look, Mary," cried Lorna, as they came in. "Here are two more +presents. One must weigh a ton and the other is in this funny old +bandbox." +</P> + +<P> +They opened the big bundle first; it was a silver service of elaborate, +ornate design. It had cost hundreds of dollars. +</P> + +<P> +On a long paper Bobbie saw the names of a hundred men, all familiar and +memory-stirring. The list was headed with the simple dedication in the +full, round hand which Burke recognized as that of Captain Sawyer: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"To the Prince of all the Rookies and his Princess, from his brother +cops. God bless you, Bobbie Burke, and Mrs. Bobbie." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Ex-officer 4434 Burke blinked and hugged his happy fiancée delightedly. +</P> + +<P> +"What's in that old bandbox, Bob?" asked Lorna. "It's marked +'Glass—Handle with care.' I wonder how it ever held together. Some +country fellow left it at the door this afternoon, but wouldn't come +in." +</P> + +<P> +They opened it, and Mary gasped. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, look at the flowers!" +</P> + +<P> +The box seemed full of old-fashioned country blossoms, as Mary dipped +her hand into it. Then she deftly reached to the bottom of the big +bandbox and lifted its contents. Wrapped in a sheathing of oiled +tissue paper was a monstrous cake, layer on layer, like a Chinese +pagoda. It was covered with that rustic triumph of multi-colored icing +which only grandmothers seem able to compound in these degenerate days +of machine-made pastry of the city bakeries. +</P> + +<P> +A wedding ring of yellow icing was molded in the center, while on +either side were red candy hearts, joined by whirly sugar streamers of +pink and blue. +</P> + +<P> +A card pinned in the center said: +</P> + +<P> +"From Henrietta and Joe." +</P> + +<P> +"That's all we needed," said Mary with a sob in her happy voice, "to +make our wedding supper end right. Wasn't it, Officer 4434?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="finis"> +THE END +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Traffic in Souls, by Eustace Hale Ball + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRAFFIC IN SOULS *** + +***** This file should be named 29453-h.htm or 29453-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/4/5/29453/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</BODY> + +</HTML> + diff --git a/29453-h/images/img-108.jpg b/29453-h/images/img-108.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a755489 --- /dev/null +++ b/29453-h/images/img-108.jpg diff --git a/29453-h/images/img-196.jpg b/29453-h/images/img-196.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7f3fdb0 --- /dev/null +++ b/29453-h/images/img-196.jpg diff --git a/29453-h/images/img-227.jpg b/29453-h/images/img-227.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7f5c8fb --- /dev/null +++ b/29453-h/images/img-227.jpg diff --git a/29453-h/images/img-233.jpg b/29453-h/images/img-233.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c3d528b --- /dev/null +++ b/29453-h/images/img-233.jpg diff --git a/29453-h/images/img-282.jpg b/29453-h/images/img-282.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cab7348 --- /dev/null +++ b/29453-h/images/img-282.jpg diff --git a/29453-h/images/img-front.jpg b/29453-h/images/img-front.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ab74674 --- /dev/null +++ b/29453-h/images/img-front.jpg diff --git a/29453.txt b/29453.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..936dd2b --- /dev/null +++ b/29453.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8020 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Traffic in Souls, by Eustace Hale Ball + +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: Traffic in Souls + A Novel of Crime and Its Cure + +Author: Eustace Hale Ball + +Release Date: July 19, 2009 [EBook #29453] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRAFFIC IN SOULS *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: If ever prayer came from the depths of a broken heart, +it was that forlorn plea for the lost sister.] + + + + + +TRAFFIC IN SOULS + +_A Novel of Crime and Its Cure_ + + + +BY + +EUSTACE HALE BALL + + + + _ILLUSTRATIONS FROM SCENES + IN THE PHOTO-PLAY_ + + + + +G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY + +PUBLISHERS ---- NEW YORK + + + + +COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY + +G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY + + + +_Traffic in Souls_ + +_This novel is based in part upon the scenario of the photo-drama of +the same name written by Walter MacNamara and produced by the UNIVERSAL +FILM MANUFACTURING COMPANY, New York City. The incidents and +characterisations are founded upon stories of real life. Actual scenes +of the underworld haunts are faithfully reproduced. The criminal +methods of the traffickers are substantiated by the reports of the John +D. Rockefeller, Jr., Investigating Committee for the Suppression of +Vice, and District Attorney Whitman's White Slave Report._ + + + + +Press of + +J. J. Little & Ives Co. + +New York + + + + + TO + THAT FEARLESS AMERICAN CITIZEN + AND STERLING PUBLIC OFFICIAL, + CHARLES S. WHITMAN, + DISTRICT ATTORNEY FOR THE BOROUGH + OF MANHATTAN, IN THE CITY OF NEW YORK, + THIS BOOK IS ADMIRINGLY DEDICATED. + E. H. B. + + + + + + "_What has man done here? How atone, + Great God, for this which man has done? + And for the body and soul which by + Man's pitiless doom must now comply + With lifelong hell, what lullaby + Of sweet forgetful second birth + Remains? All dark. No sign on earth + What measure of God's rest endows + The Many mansions of His house._ + + "_If but a woman's heart might see + Such erring heart unerringly + For once! But that can never be._ + + "_Like a rose shut in a book + In which pure women may not look, + For its base pages claim control + To crush the flower within the soul; + Where through each dead roseleaf that clings, + Pale as transparent psyche-wings, + To the vile text, are traced such things + As might make lady's cheek indeed + More than a living rose to read; + So nought save foolish foulness may + Watch with hard eyes the sure decay; + And so the lifeblood of this rose, + Puddled with shameful knowledge flows + Through leaves no chaste hand may unclose; + Yet still it keeps such faded show + Of when 'twas gathered long ago, + That the crushed petals' lovely grain, + The sweetness of the sanguine stain, + Seen of a woman's eyes must make + Her pitiful heart, so prone to ache, + Love roses better for its sake:-- + Only that this can never be:-- + Even so unto her sex is she!_ + + "_Yet, Jenny, looking long at you, + The woman almost fades from view. + A cipher of man's changeless sum + Of lust, past, present, and to come, + Is left. A riddle that one shrinks + To challenge from the scornful sphinx._ + + "_Like a toad within a stone + Seated while Time crumbles on; + Which sits there since the earth was curs'd + For Man's transgression at the first; + Which, living through all centuries, + Not once has seen the sun arise; + Whose life, to its cold circle charmed, + The earth's whole summers have not warmed; + Which always--whitherso the stone + Be flung--sits there, deaf, blind, alone;-- + Aye, and shall not be driven out + 'Till that which shuts him round about + Break at the very Master's stroke, + And the dust thereof vanished as smoke, + And the seed of Man vanished as dust:-- + Even so within this world is Lust!_" + + --From "Jenny," by Dante Gabriel Rosetti. + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + I. NIGHT COURT + II. WHEN LOVE COMES VISITING + III. THE TRAIL OF THE SERPENT + IV. WHAT THE DOCTOR SAID + V. ROSES AND THORNS + VI. THE WORK OF THE GANGSTERS + VII. THE CLOSER BOND + VIII. THE PURITY LEAGUE AND ITS ANGEL + IX. THE BUSY MART OF TRADE + X. WHEN THE TRAIN COMES IN + XI. THE POISONED NEEDLE + XII. THE REVENGE OF JIMMIE THE MONK + XIII. LORNA'S QUEST FOR PLEASURE + XIV. CHARITY AND THE MULTITUDE OF SINS + XV. THE FINISH + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +If ever prayer came from the depths of a broken heart, it was that +forlorn plea for a lost sister . . . . . . _Frontispiece_ + +"This is my friend, Sam Shepard, the theatrical manager, Miss Lorna. +He's the man who can get you on the stage" + +"I'm going to shoot to kill. Every court in the state will sustain a +policeman who shoots a white-slaver" + +The deep tones of the stranger's voice filled Mary with a thrill of +loathing + +Father and daughter were frantic with grief + +The pretended philanthropist was cornered at last + + + + +TRAFFIC IN SOULS + + +CHAPTER I + +NIGHT COURT + +Officer 4434 beat his freezing hands together as he stood with his back +to the snow-laden north-easter, which rattled the creaking signboards +of East Twelfth Street, and covered, with its merciful shroud of wet +flakes, the ash-barrels, dingy stoops, gaudy saloon porticos and other +architectural beauties of the Avenue corner. + +Officer 4434 was on "fixed post." + +This is an institution of the New York police department which makes it +possible for citizens to locate, in time of need, a representative of +the law. At certain street crossings throughout the boroughs bluecoats +are assigned to guard-duty during the night, where they can keep close +watch on the neighboring thoroughfares. The "fixed post" increases the +efficiency of the service, but it is a bitter ordeal on the men. + +Officer 4434 shivered under his great coat. He pulled the storm hood +of his cap closer about his neck as he muttered an opinion, far from +being as cold as the biting blast, concerning the Commissioner who had +installed the system. He had been on duty over an hour, and even his +sturdy young physique was beginning to feel the strain of the Arctic +temperature. + +"I wonder when Maguire is coming to relieve me?" muttered 4434, when +suddenly his mind left the subject, as his keen vision descried two +struggling figures a few yards down the dark side of Twelfth Street. + +There was no outcry for help. But 4434 knew his precinct too well to +wait for that. He quietly walked to the left corner and down toward +the couple. As he neared them the mist of the eddying snowflakes +became less dense; he could discern a short man twisting the arm of a +tall woman, who seemed to be top heavy from an enormous black-plumed +hat. The faces of the twain were still indistinct. The man whirled +the woman about roughly. She uttered a subdued moan of pain, and 4434, +as he softly approached them, his footfalls muffled by the blanket of +white, could hear her pleading in a low tone with the man. + +"Aw, kid, I ain't got none ... I swear I ain't... Oh, oh ... ye know I +wouldn't lie to ye, kid!" + +"Nix, Annie. Out wid it, er I'll bust yer damn arm!" + +"Jimmie, I ain't raised a nickel to-night ... dere ain't even a sailor +out a night like dis... Oh, oh, kid, don't treat me dis way..." + +Her voice died down to a gasp of pain. + +Officer 4434 was within ten feet of the couple by this time. He +recognized the type though not the features of the man, who had now +wrenched the woman's arm behind her so cruelly that she had fallen to +her knees, in the snow. The fellow was so intent upon his quest for +money that he did not observe the approach of the policeman. + +But the woman caught a quick glimpse of the intruder into their +"domestic" affairs. She tried to warn her companion. + +"Jimmie, dere's a..." + +She did not finish, for her companion wished to end further argument +with his own particular repartee. + +He swung viciously with his left arm and brought a hard fist across the +woman's pleading lips. She screamed and sank back limply. + +As she did so, Officer 4434 reached forward with a vise-like grip and +closed his tense fingers about the back of Jimmie's muscular neck. +Holding his night stick in readiness for trouble, with that knack +peculiar to policemen, he yanked the tough backward and threw him to +his knees. Annie sprang to her feet. + +"Lemme go!" gurgled the surprised Jimmie, as he wriggled to get free. +Without a word, the woman who had been suffering from his brutality, +now sprang upon the rescuing policeman with the fury of a lioness +robbed of her cub. She clawed at the bluecoat's face and cursed him +with volubility. + +"I'll git you broke fer this!" groaned Jimmie, as 4434 held him to his +knees, while Annie tried to get her hold on the officer's neck. It was +a temptation to swing the night-stick, according to the laws of war, +and then protect himself against the fury of the frenzied woman. But, +this is an impulse which the policeman is trained to subdue--public +opinion on the subject to the contrary notwithstanding. Officer 4434 +knew the influence of the gangsters with certain politicians, who had +influence with the magistrates, who in turn meted out summary +reprimands and penalties to policemen un-Spartanlike enough to defend +themselves with their legal weapons against the henchmen of the East +Side politicians! + +Annie had managed by no mean pugilistic ability to criss-cross five +painful scratches with her nails, upon the policeman's face, despite +his attempt to guard himself. + +Jimmie, with tactical resourcefulness, had twisted around in such a way +that he delivered a strong-jaw nip on the right leg of the policeman. + +4434 suddenly released his hold on the man's neck, whipped out his +revolver and fired it in the air. He would have used the signal for +help generally available at such a time, striking the night stick upon +the pavement, but the thick snow would have muffled the resonant alarm. + +"Beat it, Annie, and git de gang!" cried out Jimmie as he scrambled to +his feet. The woman sped away obediently, as Officer 4434 closed in +again upon his prisoner. The gangster covered the retreat of the woman +by grappling the policeman with arms and legs. + +The two fell to the pavement, and writhed in their struggle on the snow. + +Jimmie, like many of the gang men, was a local pugilist of no mean +ability. His short stature was equalized in fighting odds by a +tremendous bull strength. 4434, in his heavy overcoat, and with the +storm hood over his head and neck was somewhat handicapped. Even as +they struggled, the efforts of the nimble Annie bore fruit. In +surprisingly brief time a dozen men had rushed out from the neighboring +saloon, and were giving the doughty policeman more trouble than he +could handle. + +Suddenly they ran, however, for down the street came two speeding +figures in the familiar blue coats. One of the officers was shrilly +blowing his whistle for reinforcements. He knew what to expect in a +gang battle and was taking no chances. + +Maguire, who had just come on to relieve 4434, lived up to his duty +most practically by catching the leg of the battling Jimmie, and giving +it a wrestling twist which threw the tough with a thud on the pavement, +clear of his antagonist. + +4434 rose to his feet stiffly, as his rescuers dragged Jimmie to a +standing position. + +"Well, Burke, 'tis a pleasant little party you do be having," +volunteered Maguire. "Sure, and you've been rassling with Jimmie the +Monk. Was he trying to pick yer pockets?" + +"Naw, I wasn't doin' nawthin', an' I'm goin' ter git that rookie broke +fer assaultin' me. I'm goin' ter write a letter to the Mayor!" growled +Jimmie. + +Officer Burke laughed a bit ruefully. + +He mopped some blood off his face, from the nail scratches of Jimmie's +lady associate, and then turned toward the two officers. + +"He didn't pick my pockets--it was just the old story, of beating up +his woman, trying to get the money she made on the street to-night. +When I tried to help her they both turned on me." + +"Faith, Burke, I thought you had more horse sense," responded Maguire. +"That's a dangerous thing to do with married folks, or them as ought to +be married. They'll fight like Kilkenny cats until the good Samaritan +comes along and then they form a trust and beat up the Samaritan." + +"I think most women these days need a little beating up anyway, to keep +'em from worrying about their troubles," volunteered Officer Dexter. +"I'd have been happier if I had learned that in time." + +"Say, nix on dis blarney, youse!" interrupted the Monk, who was trying +to wriggle out of the arm hold of Burke and Maguire. "I ain't gonter +stand fer dis pinch wen I ain't done nawthin." + +A police sergeant, who had heard the whistle as he made his rounds, now +came up. + +"What's the row?" he gruffly exclaimed. Burke explained. The sergeant +shook his head. + +"You're wasting time, Burke, on this sort of stuff. When you've been +on the force a while longer you'll learn that it's the easiest thing to +look the other way when you see these men fighting with their women. +The magistrates won't do a thing on a policeman's word alone. You just +see. Now you've got to go down to Night Court with this man, get a +call down because you haven't got a witness, and this rummie gets set +free. Why, you'd think these magistrates had to apologize for there +being a police force! The papers go on about the brutality of the +police, and the socialists howl about Cossack methods, and the +ministers preach about graft and vice, and the reformers sit in their +mahogany chairs in the skyscraper offices and dictate poems about sin, +and the cops have to walk around and get hell beat out of 'em by these +wops and kikes every time they tries to keep a little order!" + +The sergeant turned to Maguire. + +"You know these gangs around here, Mack. Who's this guy's girl?" + +"He's got three or four, sergeant," responded the officer. "I guess +this one must be Dutch Annie. Was she all dolled up with about a +hundred dollars' worth of ostrich feathers, Burke?" + +"Yes--tall, and some fighter." + +"That's the one. Her hangout is over there on the corner, in +Shultberger's cabaret. We can get her now, maybe." + +The sergeant beckoned to Dexter. + +"Run this guy over to the station house, and put him down on the +blotter for disorderly conduct, and assaulting an officer. You get +onto your post, Maguire, or the Commish'll be shooting past here in a +machine on the way to some ball at the Ritz, and will have us all on +charges. You come with me, Burke, and we'll nab that woman as a +material witness." + +Burke and his superior crossed the street and quickly entered the +ornate portal of Shultberger's cabaret, which was in reality the annex +to his corner barroom. + +As they strode in a waiter stood by a tuneless piano, upon which a +bloated "professor" was beating a tattoo of cheap syncopation +accompaniment of the advantages of "Bobbin' Up An' Down," which was +warbled with that peculiarly raucous, nasal tenor so popular in +Tenderloin resorts. The musical waiter's jaw fell in the middle of a +bob, as he espied the blue uniforms. + +He disappeared behind a swinging door with the professional skill of a +stage magician. + +Sitting around the dilapidated wooden tables was a motley throng of +red-nosed women, loafers, heavy-jowled young aliens, and a scattering +of young girls attired in cheap finery; a prevailing color of chemical +yellow as to hair, and flaming red cheeks and lips. + +Instinctively the gathering rose for escape, but the sergeant strode +forward to one particular table, where sat a girl nursing a bleeding +mouth. + +Burke remained by the door to shut off that exit. + +"Is this the one?" asked the sergeant, as he put his hands on the young +woman's shoulder. + +Burke scrutinized her closely, responding quickly. + +"Yes!" + +"Come on, you," ordered the roundsman. "I want you. Quick!" + +"Say, I ain't done a thing, what do ye want me fer?" whined the girl, +as the sergeant pulled at her sleeve. The officer did not reply, but +he looked menacingly about him at the evil company. + +"If any of you guys starts anything I'm going to call out the reserves. +Come on, Annie." + +The proprietor, Shultberger, now entered from the front, after a +warning from his waiter. + +"Vot's dis, sergeant? Vot you buttin' in my place for? Ain't I in +right?" he cried. + +"Shut up. This girl has been assaulting an officer, and I want her. +Come on, now, or I'll get the wagon here, and then there will be +trouble." + +Annie began to pull back, and it looked as though some of the toughs +would interfere. But Shultberger understood his business. + +"Now, Annie, don't start nottings here. Go on vid de officer. I'll +fix it up all right. But I don't vant my place down on de blotter. +Who vas it--Jimmie?" + +The girl began to cry, and gulped the glass of whiskey on the table as +she finally yielded to the tug of the sergeant. + +"Yes, it's Jimmie. An' he wasn't doin' a ting. Dese rookies is always +makin' trouble fer me." + +She sobbed hysterically as the sergeant walked her out. Shultberger +patted her on the shoulder reassuringly. + +"Dot's all right, Annie. I vouldn't let nodding happen to Jimmie. +I'll bail him out and you too. Go along; dot's a good girl." He +turned to his guests, and motioned to them to be silent. + +The "professor," at the piano, used to such scenes, lulled the nerves +of the company with a rag-time variation of "Oh, You Beautiful Doll," +and Burke, the sergeant and Annie went out into the night. + +The girl was taken to the station. The lieutenant looked questioningly +at Officer 4434. + +"Want to put her down for assault?" he asked. + +Burke looked at the unhappy creature. Her hair was half-down her back, +and her lips swollen and bleeding from Jimmie's brutal blow. The cheap +rouge on her face; the heavy pencilling of her brows, the crudely +applied blue and black grease paint about her eyes, the tawdry paste +necklace around her powdered throat; the pitifully thin silk dress in +which she had braved the elements for a few miserable dollars: all +these brought tears to the eyes of the young officer. + +He was sick at heart. + +The girl shivered and sobbed in that hysterical manner which indicates +weakness, emptiness, lack of soul--rather than sorrow. + +"Poor thing--I couldn't do it. I don't want to see her sent to +Blackwell's Island. She's getting enough punishment every day--and +every night." + +"Well, she's made your face look like a railroad map. You're too soft, +young fellow. I'll put her down as a material witness. Go wash that +blood off, and we'll send 'em both down to Night Court. You've done +yourself out of your relief butting in this way. Take a tip from me, +and let these rummies fight it out among themselves after this as long +as they don't mix up with somebody worth while." + +Burke wiped his eye with the back of his cold hand. It was not snow +which had melted there. He was young enough in the police service to +feel the pathos of even such common situations as this. + +He turned quietly and went back to the washstand in the rear room of +the station. The reserves were sitting about, playing checkers and +cards. Some were reading. + +Half a dozen of the men, fond of the young policeman, chatted with him, +and volunteered advice, to which Burke had no reply. + +"Don't start in mixing up with the Gas Tank Gang over one of those +girls, Burke, for they're not worth it." + +"You'll have enough to do in this precinct to look after your own skin, +and round up the street holdups, or get singed at a tenement fire." + +And so it went. + +The worldly wisdom of his fellows was far from encouraging. Yet, +despite their cynical expressions, Burke knew that warm hearts and +gallant chivalry were lodged beneath the brass buttons. + +There is a current notion among the millions of Americans who do not +know, and who have fortunately for themselves not been in the position +where they needed to know, that the policemen of New York are an +organized body of tyrannical, lying grafters who maintain their power +by secret societies, official connivance and criminal brute force. + +Taken by and large, there is no fighting organization in any army in +the world which can compare with the New York police force for physical +equipment, quick action under orders or upon the initiative required by +emergencies, gallantry or _esprit de corps_. For salaries barely equal +to those of poorly paid clerks or teamsters, these men risk their lives +daily, must face death at any moment, and are held under a discipline +no less rigorous than that of the regular army. Their problems are +more complex than those of any soldiery; they deal with fifty different +nationalities, and are forced by circumstances to act as judge and +jury, as firemen, as life savers, as directories, as arbiters of +neighborhood squabbles and domestic wrangles. Their greatest services +are rendered in the majority of cases which never call for arrest and +prosecution. That there are many instances of petty "graft," and that, +in some cases, the "middle men" prey on the underworld cannot be denied. + +But it is the case against a certain policeman which receives the +attention of the newspapers and the condemnation of the public, while +almost unheeded are scores of heroic deeds which receive bare mention +in the daily press. For the misdeed of one bad policeman the gallantry +and self-sacrifice of a hundred pass without appreciation. + +There have been but three recorded instances of cowardice in the annals +of the New York police force. The memory of them still rankles in the +bosom of every member. And yet the performance of duty at the cost of +life and limb is regarded by the uniformed men as merely being "all in +the day's work." The men are anxious to do their duty in every way, +but political, religious, social and commercial influences are +continually erecting stone walls across the path of that duty. + +Superhuman in wisdom, thrice blest in luck is the bluecoat who +conscientiously can live up to his own ideals, carry out the law as +written by his superiors without being sent to "rusticate with the +goats," or being demoted for stepping upon the toes of some of those +same superiors! + +Officer Bobbie Burke betook himself to the Night Court to lodge his +complaint against Jimmie the Monk. The woman, Dutch Annie, sniveling +and sobbing, was lodged in a cell near the gangster before being +brought before the rail to face the magistrate. + +Burke saw that they could not communicate with each other, and so hoped +that he could have his own story accepted by the magistrate. He stood +by the door of the crowded detention room, which opened into a larger +courtroom, where the prisoners were led one by one to the prisoner's +dock--in this case, a hand-rail two feet in front of the long desk of +the judge, while that worthy was seated on a platform which enabled him +to look down at the faces of the arraigned. + +It was an apparently endless procession. + +The class of arrests was monotonous. Three of every four cases were +those of street women who had been arrested by "plain clothes" men or +detectives for solicitation on the street. + +The accusing officer took a chair at the left of the magistrate. The +uniformed attendant handed the magistrate the affidavits of complaint. +The judge mechanically scrawled his name at the bottom of the papers, +glanced at the words of the arraignments, and then scowled over the +edge of his desk at the flashily dressed girls before him. They all +seemed slight variations on the same mould. + +Perhaps one girl would simulate some hysterical sobs, and begin by +protesting her innocence. Another would be hard and indifferent. A +third, indignant. + +"What about this, officer?" the judge would ask. "Where did you see +this woman, what did you say, what did she say, and what happened?" + +The detective, in a voice and manner as mechanical as that of the +judge, would mumble his oft repeated story, giving the exact minute of +his observations, the actions of the woman in accosting different +pedestrians and in her final approach to him. + +"How many times before have you been arrested, girl?" the magistrate +would growl. + +Sometimes the girls would admit the times; in most cases their memories +were defective, until the accusing officer would cite past history. +This girl had been arrested and paroled once before; that one had been +sent to "the Island" for thirty days; the next one was an habitual +offender. It was a tragic monotony. Sometimes the magistrate would +summon the sweet-faced matron to have a talk with some young girl, +evidently a "green one" for whom there might be hope. There was more +kindliness and effort to reform the prisoners behind those piercing +eyes of the judge than one might have supposed to hear him drone out +his judgment: "Thirty days, Molly"; "Ten dollars, Aggie--the Island +next time, sure"; "Five dollars for you, Sadie," and so on. There was +a weary, hopeless look in the magistrate's eyes, had you studied him +close at hand. He knew, better than the reformers, of the horrors of +the social evil, at the very bottom of the cup of sin. Better than +they could he understand the futility of garrulous legislation at the +State Capitol, to be offset by ignorance, avarice, weakness and disease +in the congestion of the big, unwieldy city. When he fined the girls +he knew that it meant only a hungry day, one less silk garment or +perhaps a beating from an angry and disappointed "lover." When he sent +them to the workhouse their activities were merely discontinued for a +while to learn more vileness from companions in their imprisonment; to +make for greater industry--busier vice and quicker disease upon their +return to the streets. The occasional cases in which there was some +chance for regeneration were more welcome to him, even, than to the +weak and sobbing girls, hopeless with the misery of their early +defeats. Yet, the magistrate knew only too well the miserable minimum +of cases which ever resulted in real rescue and removal from the sordid +existence. + +Once as low as the rail of the Night Court--a girl seldom escaped from +the slime into which she had dragged herself. And yet _had_ she +dragged herself there? Was _she_ to blame? Was she to pay the +consequences in the last Reckoning of Accounts? + +This thought came to Officer Bobbie Burke as he watched the horrible +drama drag monotonously through its brief succession of sordid scenes. + +The expression of the magistrate, the same look of sympathetic misery +on the face of the matron, and even on many of the detectives, +automatons who had chanted this same official requiem of dead souls, +years of nights ... not a sombre tone of the gruesome picture was lost +to Burke's keen eyes. + +"Some one has to pay; some one has to pay! I wonder who?" muttered +Officer 4434 under his breath. + +There were cases of a different caliber. Yet Burke could see in them +what Balzac called "social coordination." + +Now a middle-aged woman, with hair unkempt, and hat awry, maudlin tears +in her swollen eyes, and swaying as she held the rail, looked shiftily +up into the magistrate's immobile face. + +"You've been drunk again, Mrs. Rafferty? This is twice during the last +fortnight that I've had you here." + +"Yis, yer honor, an me wid two foine girls left home. Oh, Saint Mary +protect me, an' oi'm a (hic) bad woman. Yer honor, it's the fault of +me old man, Pat. (Hic) Oi'm _not_ a bad woman, yer honor." + +The magistrate was kind as he spoke. + +"And what does Pat do?" + +"He beats me, yer honor (hic), until Oi sneak out to the family +intrance at the corner fer a quiet nip ter fergit it. An' the girls, +they've been supportin' me (hic), an' payin the rint, an' buyin' the +vittles, an' (hic) it's a dog's life they lead, wid all their work. +When they go out wid dacint young min (hic), Pat cusses the young min, +an' beats the girls whin they come home (hic)." + +Here the woman broke down, sobbing, while the attendant kept her from +swaying and falling. + +"There, there, Mrs. Rafferty. I'll suspend sentence this time. But +don't let it happen another time. You have Pat arrested and I'll teach +him something about treating you right." + +"My God, yer honor (hic), the worst of it is it's me two girls--they +ain't got no home, but a drunken din, the next thing I knows they'll be +arristed (hic) and brought up before ye like these other poor divvels. +Yer honor, it's drunken Pats and min like him that's bringin' these +poor girls here--it ain't the cops an' the sports (hic), yer honor." + +The woman staggered as the magistrate quietly signaled the attendant to +lead her through the gate, and up the aisle of the court to the outer +door. + +As she passed by the spectators, two or three richly dressed young +women giggled and nudged the dapper youths with whom they were sitting. + +"Silence!" cried the magistrate tersely. "This is not a cabaret show. +I don't want any seeing-New-York parties here. Sergeant, put those +people out of the court." + +The officer walked up the aisle and ordered the society buds and their +escorts to leave. + +"Why, we're studying sociology," murmured one girl. "It's a very +stupid thing, however, down here." + +"So vulgar, my dear," acquiesced her friend. "There's nothing +interesting anyway. Just the same old story." + +They noisily arose, and walked out, while Officer Burke could hear one +of the gilded youths exclaim in a loud voice as they reached the outer +corridor: + +"Come on, let's go up to Rector's for a little tango, and see some real +life...." + +The magistrate who had heard it tapped his pen on the desk, and looked +quizzically at the matron. + +"They are doubtless preparing some reform legislation for the suffrage +platform, Mrs. Grey, and I have inadvertently delayed the millennium. +Ah, a pity!" + +Burke was impatient for the calling of his own case. He was tired. He +would have been hungry had he not been so nauseated by the sickening +environment. He longed for the fresh air; even the snowstorm was +better than this. + +But his turn had not come. The next to be called was another answer to +his mental question. + +A young woman with a blackened eye and a bleeding cheek was brought in +by a fat, jolly officer, who led a burly, sodden man with him. + +The charge was quarreling and destroying the furniture of a neighbor in +whose flat the fight had taken place. + +"Who started it?" asked the magistrate. + +"She did, your honor. She ain't never home when I wants my vittles +cooked, and she blows my money so there ain't nothing in the house to +eat for meself. She's always startin' things, and she did this time +when I tells her to come on home...." + +"Just a minute," interrupted the magistrate. "What is the cause of +this, little woman? Who struck you on the eye?" + +The woman's lips trembled, and she glanced at the big fellow beside +her. He glowered down at her with a threatening twist of his mouth. + +"Why, your honor, you see, the baby was sick, and Joe, he went out with +the boys pay night, and we didn't have a cent in the flat, and I had +to..." + +"Shut up, or I'll bust you when I get you alone!" muttered Joe, until +the judge pounded on the table with his gavel. + +"You won't be where you can bust her!" sharply exclaimed the +magistrate. "Go on, little woman. When did he hit you?" + +The wife trembled and hesitated. The magistrate nodded encouragingly. + +"Why weren't you home?" he asked softly. + +"My neighbor, Mrs. Goldberg, likes the baby, and she was showing me how +to make some syrup for its croup, your honor, sir. We haven't got any +light--it's a quarter gas meter, and there wasn't anything to cook +with, and I had the baby in her flat, and Joe he just got home--he +hadn't been there ... since ... Saturday night ... I didn't have +anything to eat--since then, myself." + +Joe whirled about threateningly, but the officer caught his uplifted +arm. + +"She lies. She ain't straight, that's what it is. Hanging around them +_Sheenies_, and sayin' it's the baby. She lies!" + +The little woman's face paled, and she staggered back, her tremulous +fingers clutching at the empty air as her great eyes opened with horror +at his words. + +"I'm not _straight_? Oh, oh, Joe! You're killing me!" + +She moaned as though the man had beat her again. + +"Six months!" rasped out the magistrate between his teeth. "And I'm +going to put you under a peace bond when you get out. Little woman, +you're dismissed." + +Joe was roughly jostled out into the detention room again by the +rosy-cheeked policeman, whose face was neither so jolly nor rosy now. +The woman sobbed, and leaned across the rail, her outstretched arms +held pleadingly toward the magistrate. + +"Oh, judge, sir ... don't send him up for six months. How can the baby +and I live? We have no one, not one soul to care for us, and I'm +expecting..." + +Mercifully her nerves gave way, and she fainted. The gruff old court +attendant, now as gentle as a nurse, caught her, and with the gateman, +carried her at the judge's direction, toward his own private office, +whither hurried Mrs. Grey, the matron. + +The magistrate blew his nose, rubbed his glasses, and irritably looked +at the next paper. + +"Jimmie Olinski. Officer Burke. Hurry up, I want to call recess!" he +exclaimed. + +Burke, in a daze of thoughts, pulled himself together, and then took +the arm of Jimmie the Monk, who advanced with manner docile and +obsequious. He was not a stranger to the path to the rail. Another +officer led Annie forward. Burke took the chair. + +"Don't waste my time," snapped the magistrate. "What's this? Another +fight?" + +Officer 4434 explained the situation. + +"Do you want to complain, woman?" asked the magistrate. + +"Complain, why yer honor, dis cop is lyin' like a house afire. Dis is +me gent' friend, an' I got me face hoit by dis cop hittin' me when he +butted into our conversation. Dis cop assaulted us both, yer honor." + +"That'll do. Shut up. You know what this is, don't you, Burke? The +same old story. Why do you waste time on this sort of thing unless +you've got a witness? You know one of these women will never testify +against the man, no matter how much he beats and robs her." + +"But, your honor, the man assaulted her and assaulted me," began Burke. + +"She doesn't count. That's the pity of it, poor thing. I'll hold him +over to General Sessions for a criminal trial on assaulting you." + +In the back of the room a stout man in a fur overcoat arose. + +It was Shultberger. He came down the aisle. + +As he did so, unnoticed by Officer 4434, three of Shultberger's +companions arose and quietly left the courtroom by the front entrance. + +"Oxcuse me, Chudge, but may I offer bail for my friend, little Jimmie?" + +He had some papers in his hand, for this was what might be called a +by-product of his saloon business; Shultberger was always ready for the +assistance of his clients. + +The magistrate looked sharply at him. "Down here again, eh? I'd think +those deeds and that old brick house would be worn out by this time, +Shultberger, from the frequency with which you juggle it against the +liberty of your friends." + +"It's a fine house, Chudge, and was assessed." + +"Yes--go file your papers," snapped the magistrate. "You can report +back to your station house, officer. There is no charge against this +girl--she is merely held as material witness. She'll never testify. +She's discharged. Take my advice, Burke, and play safe with these +gun-men. You're in a neighborhood which needs good precaution as well +as good intentions. Good night." + +The magistrate rose, declaring a recess for one hour, and Officer 4434 +left the court through the police entrance. + +As he turned the corner of the old Court building, he repeated to +himself the question which had forced itself so strongly upon him: "Who +is to blame? Who has to pay? The men or the women?" + +Again he saw, mentally, the sobbing, drunken Irish woman with the two +daughters who had no home life. He saw the brutal Joe, and his +fainting wife as he cast the horrible words "not straight" into her +soul. He saw that the answer to his question, and the shallow society +youngsters, who had left the courtroom to see "real life" at Rector's, +were not disconnected from that answer. + +But he did not see a dark form behind a stone buttress at the corner of +the old building. He did not see a brick which came hurtling through +the air from behind him. + +He merely fell forward, mutely--with a fractured skull! + + + + +CHAPTER II + +WHEN LOVE COMES VISITING + +It was a very weak young man who sojourned for the next few weeks in +the hospital, hovering so near the shadow of the Eternal Fixed Post +that nurses and internes gave him up many times. + +"It's only his fine young body, with a fine clean mind and fine living +behind it, that has brought him around, nurse," said Doctor MacFarland, +the police surgeon of Burke's precinct, as he came to make his daily +call. + +"He's been very patient, sir, and it's a blessing to see him able to +sit up now, and take an interest in things. Many a man's mind has been +a blank after such a blow and such a fracture. He's a great favorite, +here," said the pretty nurse. + +Old Doctor MacFarland gave her a comical wink as he answered. + +"Well, nurse, beware of these great favorites. I like him myself, and +every officer on the force who knows him does as well. But the life of +a policeman's wife is not quite as jolly and rollicking as that of a +grateful patient who happens to be a millionaire. So, bide your time." + +He chuckled and walked on down the hall, while the young woman blushed +a carmine which made her look very pretty as she entered the private +room which had been reserved for Bobbie Burke. + +"Is there anything you would like for a change?" she asked. + +"Well, I can't read, and I can't take up all your time talking, so I +wish you'd let me get out of this room into one of the wards in a +wheel-chair, nurse," answered Burke. "I'd like to see some of the +other folks, if it's permissible." + +"That's easy. The doctor said you could sit up more each day now. He +says you'll be back on duty in another three weeks--or maybe six." + +Burke groaned. + +"Oh, these doctors, really, I feel as well now as I ever did, except +that my head is just a little wobbly and I don't believe I could beat +Longboat in a Marathon. But, you see, I'll be back on duty before any +three weeks go by." + +Burke was wheeled out into the big free ward of the hospital by one of +the attendants. He had never realized how much human misery could be +concentrated into one room until that perambulatory trip. + +It was not a visiting day, and many of the sufferers tossed about +restless and unhappy. + +About some of the beds there were screens--to keep the sight of their +unhappiness and anguish from their neighbors. + +Here was a man whose leg had been amputated. His entire life was +blighted because he had stuck to his job, coupling freight cars, when +the engineer lost his head. + +There, on that bed, was an old man who had saved a dozen youngsters +from a burning Christmas tree, and was now paying the penalty with +months of torture. + +Yonder poor fellow, braving the odds of the city, had left his country +town, sought labor vainly, until he was found starving rather than beg. + +As a policeman, Burke had seen many miseries in his short experience on +the force; as an invalid he had been initiated into the second degree +in this hospital ward. He wondered if there could be anything more +bitter. There was--his third and final degree in the ritual of life: +but that comes later on in our story. + +After chatting here and there with a sufferer, passing a friendly word +of encouragement, or spinning some droll old yarn to cheer up another, +Bobbie had enough. + +"Say, it's warm looking outside. Could I get some fresh air on one of +the sun-porches?" he asked his steersman. + +"Sure thing, cap. I'll blanket you up a bit, and put you through your +paces on the south porch." + +Bobbie was rolled out on the glass protected porch into the blessed +rays of the sun. He found another traveler using the same mode of +conveyance, an elderly man, whose pallid face, seamed with lines of +suffering, still showed the jolly, unconquerable spirit which keeps +some men young no matter how old they grow. + +"Well, it's about the finest sunlight I've seen for many a day. How do +you like it, young man?" + +"It's the first I've had for so many weeks that I didn't believe there +was any left in the world," responded Burke. "If we could only get out +for a walk instead of this Atlantic City boardwalk business it would be +better, wouldn't it?" + +His companion nodded, but his genial smile vanished. + +"Yes, but that's something I'll never get again." + +"What, never again? Why, surely you're getting along to have them +bring you out here?" + +"No, my boy. I've a broken hip, and a broken thigh. Crushed in an +elevator accident, back in the factory, and I'm too old a dog to learn +to do such tricks as flying. I'll have to content myself with one of +these chairs for the rest of my worthless old years." + +The old man sighed, and such a sigh! + +Bobbie's heart went out to him, and he tried to cheer him up. + +"Well, sir, there could be worse things in life--you are not blind, nor +deaf--you have your hands and they look like hands that can do a lot." + +His neighbor looked down at his nervous, delicate hands and smiled, for +his was a valiant spirit. + +"Yes, they've done a lot. They'll do a lot more, for I've been lying +on my back with nothing to do for a month but think up things for them +to do. I'm a mechanic, you know, and fortunately I have my hands and +my memory, and years of training. I've been superintendent of a +factory; electrical work, phonographs, and all kinds of instruments +like that were my specialty. But, they don't want an old man back +there, now. Too many young bloods with college training and book +knowledge. I couldn't superintend much work now--this wheel chair of +mine is built for comfort rather than exceeding the speed limit." + +Burke drew him out, and learned another pitiful side of life. + +Burke's new acquaintance was an artisan of the old school, albeit with +the skill and modernity of a man who keeps himself constantly in the +forefront by youthful thinking and scientific work. He had devoted the +best years of his life to the interests of his employer. When a +splendid factory had been completed, largely through the results of his +executive as well as his technical skill, and an enormous fortune +accumulated from the growing business of the famous plant, the +president of the company had died. His son, fresh from college, +assumed the management of the organization, and the services of old +Barton were little appreciated by the younger man or his board of +directors. It was a familiar story of modern business life. + +"So, there you have it, young man. Why I should bother you with my +troubles I don't quite understand myself. In a hospital it's like +shipboard; we know a man a short while, and isolated from the rest of +the world, we are drawn closer than with the acquaintances of years. +In my case it's just the tragedy of age. There is no man so important +but that a business goes on very well without him. I realized it with +young Gresham, even before I was hurt in the factory. They had taken +practically all I had to give, and it was time to cast me aside. As a +sort of charity, Gresham has sent me four weeks' salary, with a letter +saying that he can do no more, and has appointed a young electrical +engineer, from his own class in Yale, to take my place. They need an +active man, not an invalid. My salary has been used up for expenses, +and for the living of my two daughters, Mary and Lorna. What I'll do +when I get back home, I don't know." + +He shook his head, striving to conceal the despondency which was +tugging at his heart. + +Burke was cheery as he responded. + +"Well, Mr. Barton, you're not out of date yet. The world of +electricity is getting bigger every day. You say that you have made +many patents which were given to the Gresham company because you were +their employee. Now, you can turn out a few more with your own name on +them, and get the profits yourself. That's not so bad. I'll be out of +here myself, before long, and I'll stir myself, to see that you get a +chance. I can perhaps help in some way, even if I'm only a policeman." + +The older man looked at him with a comical surprise. + +"A policeman? A cop? Well, well, well! I wouldn't have known it!" + +Bobbie Burke laughed, and he had a merry laugh that did one's soul good +to hear. + +"We're just human beings, you know--even if the ministers and the +muckrakers do accuse us of being blood brothers to the devil and Ali +Baba." + +"I never saw a policeman out of uniform before--that's why it seems +funny, I suppose. But I wouldn't judge you to be the type which I +usually see in the police. How long have you been in the service?" + +Here was Bobby's cue for autobiography, and he realized that, as a +matter of neighborliness, he must go as far as his friend. + +"Well, I'm what they call a rookie. It's my second job as a rookie, +however, for I ran away from home several years ago, and joined the +army. I believed all the pretty pictures they hang up in barber shops +and country post-offices, and thought I was going to be a globe +trotter. Do you remember that masterpiece which shows the gallant +bugler tooting the 'Blue Bells of Scotland,' and wearing a straight +front jacket that would make a Paris dressmaker green with envy? Well, +sir, I believed that poster, and the result was that I went to the +Philippines and helped chase Malays, Filipinos, mosquitoes, and germs; +curried the major's horse, swept his front porch, polished his shoes, +built fences and chicken houses, and all the rest of the things a +soldier does." + +"But, why didn't you stay at home?" + +Burke dropped his eyes for an instant, and then looked up unhappily. + +"I had no real home. My mother and father died the same year, when I +was eighteen. I don't know how it all happened. I had gone to college +out West for one year, when my uncle sent for me to come back to the +town where we lived and get to work. My father was rather well to do, +and I couldn't quite understand it. But, my uncle was executor of the +estate, and when I had been away that season it was all done. There +was no estate when I got back, and there was nothing to do but to work +for my uncle in the store which he said he had bought from my father, +and to live up in the little room on the third floor where the cook +used to sleep, in the house where I was born, which he said he had +bought from the estate. It was a queer game. My father left no +records of a lot of things, and so there you know why I ran away to +listen to that picture bugle. I re-enlisted, and at the end of my +second service I got sick of it. I was a sergeant and was going to +take the examination for second lieutenant when I got malaria, and I +decided that the States were good enough for me. The Colonel knew the +Police Commissioner here. He sent me a rattling good letter. I never +expected to use it. But, after I hunted a job for six months and spent +every cent I had, I decided that soldiering was a good training for +sweeping front porches and polishing rifles, but it didn't pay much gas +and rent in the big city. The soldier is a baby who always takes +orders from dad, and dad is the government. I decided I'd use what +training I had, so I took that letter to the Commissioner. I got +through the examinations, and landed on the force. Then a brick with a +nice sharp corner landed on the back of my head, and I landed up here. +And that's all there is to _my_ tale of woe." + +The old man looked at him genially. + +"Well, you've had your own hard times, my boy. None of us finds it all +as pretty as the picture of the bugler, whether we work in a factory, a +skyscraper or on a drill ground. But, somehow or other, I don't +believe you'll be a policeman so very long." + +Bob leaned back in his chair and drank in the invigorating air, as it +whistled in through the open casement of the glass-covered porch. +There was a curious twinkle in his eye, as he replied: + +"I'm going to be a policeman long enough to 'get' the gangsters that +'got' me, Mr. Barton. And I believe I'm going to try a little +housecleaning, or white-wings work around that neighborhood, just as a +matter of sport. It doesn't hurt to try." + +And Burke's jaw closed with a determined click, as he smiled grimly. + +Barton was about to speak when the door from the inner ward opened +behind them. + +"Father! Father!" came a fresh young voice, and the old man turned +around in his chair with an exclamation of delight. + +"Why, Mary, my child. I'm so pleased. How did you get to see me? +It's not a visiting day." + +A pretty girl, whose delicate, oval face was half wreathed with waves +of brown curls, leaned over the wheeled chair and kissed the old +gentleman, as she placed some carnations on his lap. + +She caught his hand in her own little ones and patted it affectionately. + +"You dear daddy. I asked the superintendent of the hospital to let me +in as a special favor to-day, for to-morrow is the regular visiting +day, and I can't come then--neither can Lorna." + +"Why, my dear, where are you going?" + +The girl hesitated, as she noticed Burke in the wheel-chair so close at +hand. By superhuman effort Bobbie was directing his attention to the +distant roofs, counting the chimneys as he endeavored to keep his mind +off a conversation which did not concern him. + +"Oh, my dear, excuse me. Mr. Burke, turn around. I'd like to have you +meet my daughter, Mary." + +Bobbie willingly took the little hand, feeling a strange embarrassment +as he looked up into a pair of melting blue eyes. + +"It's a great pleasure," he began, and then could think of nothing more +to say. Mary hesitated as well, and her father asked eagerly: "Why +can't you girls come here to-morrow, my dear? By another visiting day +I hope to be back home." + +"Father, we have----" she hesitated, and Bobbie understood. + +"I'd better be wheeling inside, Mr. Barton, and let you have the visit +out here, where it's so nice. It's only my first trip, you know--so +let me call my steersman." + +"No secrets, no secrets," began Barton, but Bobbie had beckoned to the +ward attendant. The man came out, and, at Burke's request, started to +wheel him inside. + +"Won't you come and visit me, sir, in my little room? I get lonely, +you know, and have a lot of space. I'm so glad to have seen you, Miss +Barton." + +"Mr. Burke is going to be one of my very good friends, Mary. He's +coming around to see us when I get back home. Won't that be pleasant?" + +Mary looked at Bobbie's honest, mobile face, and saw the splendid +manliness which radiated from his earnest, friendly eyes. Perhaps she +saw just a trifle more in those eyes; whatever it was, it was not +displeasing. + +She dropped her own gaze, and softly said: + +"Yes, father. He will be very welcome, if he is your friend." + +On her bosom was a red rose which the florist had given her when she +purchased the flowers for her father. Sometimes even florists are +human, you know. + +"Good afternoon; I'll see you later," said Bobbie, cheerily. + +"You haven't any flowers, Mr. Burke. May I give you this little one?" +asked Mary, as she unpinned the rose. + +Burke flushed. He smiled, bashfully, and old Barton beamed. + +"Thank you," said Bobbie, and the attendant wheeled him on into his own +room. + +"Nurse, could you get me a glass of water for this rose?" asked Bobbie. + +"Certainly," said the pretty nurse, with a curious glance at the red +blossom. "It's very pretty. It's just a bud and, if you keep it +fresh, will last a long time." + +She placed it on the table by his cot. + +As she left the room, she looked again at the rose. + +Sometimes even nurses are human. + +And Bobbie looked at the rose. It was the sweetest rose he had ever +seen. He hoped that it would last a long, long time. + +"I will try to keep it fresh," he murmured, as he awkwardly rolled over +into his bed. + +Sometimes even policemen are human, too. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE TRAIL OF THE SERPENT + +Officer Burke was back again at his work on the force. He was a trifle +pale, and the hours on patrol duty and fixed post seemed trebly long, +for even his sturdy physique was tardy in recuperating from that +vicious shock at the base of his brain. + +"Take it easy, Burke," advised Captain Sawyer, "you have never had a +harder day in uniform than this one. Those two fires, the work at the +lines with the reserves and your patrol in place of Dexter, who is laid +up with his cold, is going it pretty strong." + +"That's all right, Captain. I'm much obliged for your interest. But a +little more work to-night won't hurt me. I'll hurry strength along by +keeping up this hustling. People who want to stay sick generally +succeed. Doctor MacFarland is looking after me, so I am not worried." + +Bobbie left the house with his comrades to relieve the men on patrol. + +It was late afternoon of a balmy spring day. + +The weeks since he had been injured had drifted into months, and there +seemed many changes in the little world of the East Side. This store +had failed; that artisan had moved out, and even two or three fruit +dealers whom Bobbie patronized had disappeared. + +In the same place stood other stands, managed by Italians who looked +like caricatures drawn by the same artist who limned their predecessors. + +"It must be pretty hard for even the Italian Squad to tell all these +fellows apart, Tom," said Bobbie, as they stood on the corner by one of +the stalls. + +"Sure, lad. All Ginnies look alike to me. Maybe that's why they carve +each other up every now and then at them little shindigs of theirs. +Little family rows, they are, you know. I guess they add a few marks +of identification, just for the family records," replied Tom Dolan, an +old man on the precinct. "However, I get along with 'em all right by +keeping my eye out for trouble and never letting any of 'em get me +first. They're all right, as long as you smile at 'em. But they're +tricky, tricky. And when you hurt a Wop's vanity it's time to get a +half-nelson on your night-stick!" + +They separated, Dolan starting down the garbage-strewn side street to +chase a few noisy push-cart merchants who, having no other customers in +view, had congregated to barter over their respective wares. + +"Beat it, you!" ordered Dolan. "This ain't no Chamber of Commerce. +Git!" + +With muttered imprecation the peddlers pushed on their carts to make +place for a noisy, tuneless hurdy-gurdy. On the pavement at its side a +dozen children congregated--none over ten--to dance the turkey trot and +the "nigger," according to the most approved Bowery artistry of +"spieling." + +"Lord, no wonder they fall into the gutter when they grow up," thought +Bobbie. "They're sitting in it from the time they get out of their +swaddling rags." + +Bobbie walked up to the nearby fruit merchant. + +"How much is this apple, Tony?" + +The Italian looked at him warily, and then smirked. + +"Eet's nothing toa you, signor. I'ma da policeman's friend. You taka +him." + +Bobbie laughed, as he fished out a nickel from his pocket. He shook +his head, as he replied. + +"No, Tony, I don't get my apples from the 'policeman's friend.' I can +pay for them. You know all of us policemen aren't grafters--even on +the line of apples and peanuts." + +The Italian's eyes grew big. + +"Well, you'ra de first one dat offer to maka me de pay, justa de same. +Eet's a two centa, eef you insist." + +He gave Bobbie his change, and the young man munched away on the fresh +fruit with relish. The Italian gave him a sunny grin, and then +volunteered: + +"Youa de new policeman, eh?" + +"I have been in the hospital for more than a month, so that's why you +haven't seen me. How long have you been on this corner? There was +another man here when I came this way last." + +"Si, signor. That my cousin Beppo. But he's gone back to It'. He had +some money--he wanta to keep eet, so he go while he can." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"I don'ta wanta talk about eet, signor," said the Italian, with a +strange look. "Eet'sa bad to say I was his cousin even." + +The dealer looked worried, and naturally Bobbie became curious and more +insistent. + +"You can tell me, if it's some trouble. Maybe I can help you some time +if you're afraid of any one." + +The Italian shook his head, pessimistically. + +"No, signor. Eet'sa better I keep what you call de mum." + +"Did he blow up somebody with a bomb? Or was it stiletto work?" asked +Bobbie, as he threw away the core of the apple, to observe it greedily +captured by a small, dirty-faced urchin by the curb. + +The fruit merchant looked into Officer Burke's face, and, as others had +done, was inspired by its honesty and candor. He felt that here might +be a friend in time of trouble. Most of the policemen he knew were +austere and cynical. He leaned toward Burke and spoke in a subdued +tone. + +"Poor Beppo, he have de broken heart. He was no Black Hand--he woulda +no usa de stiletto on a cheecken, he so kinda, gooda man. He justa +leave disa country to keepa from de suicide." + +"Why, that's strange! Tell me about it. Poor fellow!" + +"He'sa engag-ed to marry de pretty Maria Cenini, de prettiest girl in +our village, back in It'--excepta my wife. Beppo, he senda on de +money, so she can coma dis country and marry him. Dat wasa four week +ago she shoulda be here. But, signor, whena Beppo go toa de Battery to +meet her froma da Ellis Island bigga boat he no finda her." + +"Did she die?" + +"Oh, signor, Beppo, he wisha she hadda died. He tooka de early boat to +meeta her, signor, and soma ona tella de big officier at de Battery +he'sa da cousin of her sweeta heart. She goa wid him, signor, and +Beppo never finda her." + +"Why, you don't mean the girl was abducted?" + +"Signor, whatever eet was, Beppo hear from one man from our village who +leeve in our village dat he see poor Maria weed her face all paint, and +locked up in de tougha house in Newark two weeks ago. Oh, _madre dio_, +signor, she's a da bad girl! Beppo, he nearly killa his friend for +tell him, and den he go to Newark to looka for her at de house. But +she gone, and poor Beppo he was de pinched for starting de fight in de +house. He pay twanty-five de dols, and coma back here. De nexta +morning a beeg man come to Beppo, and he say: 'Wop, you geet out dis +place, eef you tella de police about dees girl,' Dassal." + +Burke looked into the nervous, twitching face of the poor Italian, and +realized that here was a deeper tragedy than might be guessed by a +passerby. The man's eyes were wet, and he convulsively fumbled at the +corduroy coat, which he had doubtless worn long before he ever sought +the portals of the Land of Liberty. + +"Oh, signor. Data night Beppo he was talk to de policaman, justa like +me. He say no word, but dat beega man he musta watch, for desa +gang-men dey busta de stand, and dey tella Beppo to geet out or dey +busta heem. Beppo he tell me I can hava de stand eef I pay him some +eacha week. I take it--and now I am afraid de busta me!" + +Bobbie laid a comforting hand upon the man's heaving shoulder. + +"There, don't you worry. Don't tell anyone else you're his cousin, and +I won't either. You don't need to be afraid of these gang-men. Just +be careful and yell for the police. The trouble with you Italians is +that you are afraid to tell the police anything when you are treated +badly. Your cousin should have reported this case to the Ellis Island +authorities. They would have traced that girl and saved her." + +The man looked gratefully into Burke's eyes, as the tears ran down his +face. + +"Oh, signor, eef all de police were lika you we be not afraid." + +Just then he dropped his eyes, and Burke noticed that his hand trembled +as he suddenly reached for a big orange and held it up. The man spoke +with a surprising constraint, still holding his look upon the fruit. + +"Signor, here's a fine orange. You wanta buy heem?" In a whisper he +added: "Eet is de bigga man who told my cousin to get outa da country!" + +Bobbie in astonishment turned around and beheld two pedestrians who +were walking slowly past, both staring curiously at the Italian. + +He gave an exclamation of surprise as he noticed that one of the men +was no less a personage than Jimmie the Monk. The man with him was a +big, raw-boned Bowery character of pugilistic build. + +"Why, I thought that scoundrel would have been tried and sentenced by +this time," murmured the officer. "I know they told me his case had +been postponed by his lawyer, an alderman. But this is one on me." + +The smaller man caught Burke's eye and gave him an insolent laugh. He +even stopped and muttered something to his companion. + +Burke's blood was up in an instant. + +He advanced quickly toward the tough. Jimmie sneered, as he stood his +ground, confident in the security of his political protection. + +"Move on there," snapped Burke. "This is no loafing place." + +"Aaaah, go chase sparrers," snarled Jimmie the Monk. "Who ye think yer +talking to, rookie?" + +Now, Officer Burke was a peaceful soul, despite his military training. +His short record on the force had been noteworthy for his ability to +disperse several incipient riots, quiet more than one brawl, and tame +several bad men without resorting to rough work. But there was a +rankling in his spirit which overcame the geniality which had been +reigning in his heart so short a time before. + +He was tired. He was weak from his recent confinement. But the +fighting blood of English and some Irish ancestors stirred in his veins. + +He walked quietly up to the Monk, and his voice was low, his words +calm, as he remarked: "You clear out of this neighborhood. I am going +to put you where you belong the first chance I get. And I don't want +any of your impudence now. Move along." + +Jimmie mistook the quiet manner for respect and a timid memory of the +recent retirement from active service. + +He spread his legs, and, with a wink to his companion, he began, with +the strident rasp of tone which can seldom be heard above Fourteenth +Street and east of Third Avenue. + +"Say, bo. Do you recollect gittin' a little present? Well, listen, +dere's a Christmas tree of dem presents comin' to you ef ye tries any +more of dis stuff. I'm in _right_ in dis district, don't fergit it. +Ye tink's I'm going to de Island? Wipe dat off yer memory, too. W'y, +say, I kin git yer buttons torn off and yer shield put in de scrap heap +by de Commish if I says de woid down on Fourteenth Street, at de +bailiwick." + +"I know who was back of the assault on me, Monk, and let me tell you +I'm going to get the man who threw it. Now, you get!" + +Burke raised his right hand carelessly to the side of his collar, as he +pressed up close to the gangster. The big man at his side came nearer, +but as the policeman did not raise his club, which swung idly by its +leather thong, to his left wrist, he was as unprepared for what +happened as Jimmie. + +"Why you----" began the latter, with at least six ornate oaths which +out-tarred the vocabulary of any jolly, profane tar who ever swore. + +Burke's hand, close to his own shoulder, and not eight inches away from +Jimmie's leering jowl, closed into a very hard fist. Before the tough +knew what had hit him that nearby fist had sent him reeling into the +gutter from a short shoulder jab, which had behind it every ounce of +weight in the policeman's swinging body. + +Jimmie lay there. + +The other man's hand shot to his hip pocket, but the officer's own +revolver was out before he could raise the hand again. Army practice +came handy to Burke in this juncture. + +"Keep your hand where it is," exclaimed the policeman, "or you'll get a +bullet through it." + +"You dog, I'll get you sent up for this," muttered the big man. + +But with his revolver covering the fellow, Burke quickly "frisked" the +hip pocket and discovered the bulk of a weapon. This was enough. + +"I fixed the Monk. Now, you're going up for the Sullivan Law against +carrying firearms. You're number one, with me, in settling up this +score!" Jimmie had shown signs of awakening from the slumber induced +by Burke's sturdy right hand. + +He pulled himself up as Burke marched his man around the corner. The +Monk hurried, somewhat unsteadily, to the edge of the fruit stand and +looked round it after the two figures. + +"Do youse know dat cop, ye damn Ginnie?" muttered Jimmie. + +"Signor, no!" replied the fruit dealer, nervously. "I never saw heem +on dis beat before to-day, wenna he buy de apple from me." + +Jimmie turned--discretion conquering temporary vengeance, and started +in the opposite direction. He stopped long enough to say, as he rubbed +his bruised jaw, "Well, Wop, ye ain't like to see much more of 'im +around dis dump neither, an' ye ain't likely to see yerself neither, if +ye do too much talkin' wid de cops." + +Jimmie hurried up the street to a certain rendezvous to arrange for a +rescue party of some sort. In the meantime Officer 4434 led an +unwilling prisoner to the station house, one hand upon the man's right +arm. His own right hand gripped his stick firmly. + +"You make a wiggle and I'm going to give it to you where I got that +brick, only harder," said Burke, softly. + +A crowd of urchins, young men and even a few straggling women followed +him with his prisoner. It grew to enormous proportions by the time he +had reached the station house. + +As they entered the front room Captain Sawyer looked up from his desk, +where he had been checking up some reports. + +"Ah, what have we this time, Burke?" + +"This man is carrying a revolver in his hip pocket," declared the +officer. "That will take care of him, I suppose." + +Dexter, at the captain's direction, searched the man. The revolver was +the first prize. In his pocket was a queer memorandum book. It +contained page after page of girls' names, giving only the first name, +with some curious words in cipher code after each one. In the same +pocket was a long, flat parcel. Dexter handed it to the captain who +opened it gingerly. Inside the officer found at least twenty-five +small packets, all wrapped in white paper. He opened two of these. +They contained a flaky, white powder. + +The man looked down as Sawyer gave him a shrewd glance. + +"We have a very interesting visitor, Burke. Thanks for bringing him +in. So you're a cocaine peddler?" + +The man did not reply. + +"Take him out into one of the cells, Dexter. Get all the rest of his +junk and wrap it up. Look through the lining of his clothes and strip +him. This is a good catch, Burke." + +The prisoner sullenly ambled along between two policemen, who locked +him up in one of the "pens" in the rear of the front office. Burke +leaned over the desk. + +"He was walking with that Jimmie the Monk when I got him. Jimmie acted +ugly, and when I told him to move on he began to curse me." + +"What did you do?" + +"I handed him an upper-cut. Then this fellow tried to get his gun. +Jimmie will remember me, and I'll get him later, on something. I +didn't want to call out the reserves, so I brought this man right on +over here, and let Jimmie attend to himself. I suppose we'll hear from +him before long." + +"Yes, I see the message coming now," exclaimed Captain Sawyer in a low +tone. "Don't you open your mouth. I'll do the talking now." + +As he spoke, Burke followed his eyes and turned around. A large man, +decorated with a shiny silk hat, shinier patent leather shoes of +extreme breadth of beam, a flamboyant waistcoat, and a gold chain from +which dangled a large diamond charm, swaggered into the room, mopping +his red face with a silk handkerchief. + +"Well, well, captain!" he ejaculated, "what's this I hear about an +officer from this precinct assaulting two peaceful civilians?" + +The Captain looked steadily into the puffy face of the speaker. His +steely gray eyes fairly snapped with anger, although his voice was +unruffled as he replied, "You'd better tell me all you heard, and who +you heard it from." + +The big man looked at Burke and scowled ominously. It was evident that +Officer 4434 was well known to him, although Bobbie had never seen the +other in his life. + +"Here's the fellow. Clubbing one of my district workers--straight +politics, that's what it is, or I should say crooked politics. I'm +going to take this up with the Mayor this very day. You know his +orders about policemen using their clubs." + +"Yes, Alderman, I know that and several other things. I know that this +policeman did not use his club but his fist on one of your ward +heelers, and that was for cursing him in public. He should have +arrested him. I also know that you are the lawyer for this gangster, +Jimmie the Monk. And I know what we have on his friend. You can look +at the blotter if you want. I haven't finished writing it all yet." + +The Captain turned the big record-book around on his desk, while the +politician angrily examined it. + +"What's that? Carrying weapons, unlawfully? Carrying cocaine? Why, +this is a frame-up. This man Morgan is a law-abiding citizen. You're +trying to send him up to make a record for yourself. I'm going to take +this up with the Mayor as sure as my name is Kelly!" + +"Take it up with the United States District Attorney, too, Mr. +Alderman, for I've got some other things on your man Morgan. This +political stuff is beginning to wear out," snapped Sawyer. "There are +too many big citizens getting interested in this dope trade and in the +gang work for you and your Boss to keep it hushed any longer." + +He turned to Burke and waved his hand toward the stairway which led to +the dormitory above. + +"Go on upstairs, my boy, and rest up a little bit. You're pale. This +has been a hard day, and I'm going to send out White to relieve you. +Take a little rest and then I'll send you up to Men's Night Court with +Morgan, for I want him held over for investigation by the United States +officers." + +Alderman Kelly puffed and fumed with excitement. This was getting +beyond his depths. He was a competent artist in the criminal and lower +courts, but his talents for delaying the law of the Federal procedure +were rather slim. + +"What do you mean? I'm going to represent Morgan, and I'll have +something to say about his case at Night Court. I know the magistrate." + +Sawyer took out the memorandum book from the little parcel of +"exhibits" removed from the prisoner. + +"Well, Alderman," Burke heard him say, as he started up the stairs, +"you ought to be pleased to have a long and profitable case. For I +think this is just starting the trail on a round-up of some young men +who have been making money by a little illegal traffic. There are +about four hundred girls' names in this book, and the Chief of +Detectives has a reputation for being able to figure out ciphers." + +Alderman Kelly dropped his head, but gazed at Sawyer's grim face from +beneath his heavy brows with a baleful intensity. Then he left the +station house. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +WHAT THE DOCTOR SAID + +Officer Bobbie Burke found the case at the Men's Night Court to be less +difficult than his experience with Dutch Annie and her "friend." The +magistrate disregarded the pleading of Alderman Kelly to show the +"law-abiding" Morgan any leniency. The man was quickly bound over for +investigation by the Grand Jury, upon the representations of Captain +Sawyer, who went in person to look after the matter. + +"This man will bear a strict investigation, Mr. Kelly, and I propose to +hold him without bail until the session to-morrow. Your arguments are +of no avail. We have had too much talk and too little actual results +on this trafficking and cocaine business, and I will do what I can to +prevent further delays." + +"But, your honor, how about this brutal policeman?" began Kelly, on a +new tack. "Assaulting a peaceful citizen is a serious matter, and I am +prepared to bring charges." + +"Bring any you want," curtly said the magistrate. "The officer was +fully justified. If night-sticks instead of political pull were used +on these gun-men our politics would be cleaner and our city would not +be the laughing-stock of the rest of the country. Officer Burke, keep +up your good work, and clean out the district if you can. We need more +of it." + +Burke stepped down from the stand, embarrassed but happy, for it was a +satisfaction to know that there were some defenders of the police. He +espied Jimmie the Monk sitting with some of his associates in the rear +of the room, but this time he was prepared for trouble, as he left. +Consequently, there was none. + +When he returned to the station house he was too tired to return to his +room in the boarding-house where he lodged, but took advantage of the +proximity of a cot in the dormitory for the reserves. + +Next day he was so white and fagged from the hard duty that Captain +Sawyer called up Doctor MacFarland, the police surgeon for the precinct. + +When the old Scotchman came over he examined. Burke carefully and +shook his head sternly. + +"Young man," said he, "if you want to continue on this work, remember +that you have just come back from a hospital. There has been a bad +shock to your nerves, and if you overdo yourself you will have some +trouble with that head again. You had better ask the Captain for a +little time off--take it easy this next day or two and don't pick any +more fights." + +"I'm not hunting for trouble, doctor. But, you know, I do get a queer +feeling--maybe it is in my head, from that brick, but it feels in my +heart--whenever I see one of these low scoundrels who live on the +misery of their women. This Jimmie the Monk is one of the worst I have +ever met, and I can't rest easy until I see him landed behind the bars." + +"There is no greater curse to our modern civilization than the work of +these men, Burke. It is not so much the terrible lives of the women +whom they enslave; it is the disease which is scattered broadcast, and +carried into the homes of working-men, to be handed to virtuous and +unsuspecting wives, and by heredity to innocent children, visiting, as +the Bible says, 'the iniquities of the fathers unto the third and the +fourth generation.'" + +The old doctor sat down dejectedly and rested his chin on his hand, as +he sat talking to Burke in the rear room of the station house. + +"Doctor, I've heard a great deal about the white slave traffic, as +every one who keeps his ears open in the big city must. Do you think +the reports are exaggerated?" + +"No, my boy. I've been practicing medicine and surgery in New York for +forty years. When I came over here from Scotland the city was no +better than it should have been. But it was an _American_ city +then--not an 'international melting pot,' as the parlor sociologists +proudly call it. The social evil is the oldest profession in the +world; it began when one primitive man wanted that which he could not +win with love, so he offered a bribe. And the bribe was taken, whether +it was a carved amulet or a morsel of game, or a new fashion in furs. +And the woman who took it realized that she could escape the drudgery +of the other women, could obtain more bribes for her loveless barter +... and so it has grown down through the ages." + +The old Scotchman lit his pipe. + +"I've read hundreds of medical books, and I've had thousands of cases +in real life which have taught me more than my medical books. What +I've learned has not made me any happier, either. Knowledge doesn't +bring you peace of mind on a subject like this. It shows you how much +greed and wickedness and misery there are in the world." + +"But, doctor, do you think this white slave traffic is a new +development? We've only heard about it for the last two or three +years, haven't we?" + +The physician nodded. + +"Yes, but it's been there in one form or another. It caused the ruin +of the Roman Empire; it brought the downfall of mediaeval Europe, and +whenever a splendid civilization springs up the curse of sex-bondage in +one form or another grows with it like a cancer." + +"But medicine is learning to cure the cancer. Can't it help cure this?" + +"We are getting near the cure for cancer, maybe near the cure for this +cancer as well. Sex-bondage was the great curse of negro slavery in +the United States; it was the thing which brought misery on the South, +in the carpet-bag days, as a retribution for the sins of the fathers. +We cured that and the South is bigger and better for that terrible +surgical operation than it ever was before. But this latest +development--organized capture of ignorant, weak, pretty girls, to be +held in slavery by one man or by a band of men and a few debauched old +hags, is comparatively a new thing in America. It has been caused by +the swarms of ignorant emigrants, by the demand of the lowest classes +of those emigrants and the Americans they influence for a satisfaction +of their lust. It is made easy by the crass ignorance of the country +girls, the emigrant girls, and by the drudgery and misery of the +working girls in the big cities." + +"I saw two cases in Night Court, Doc, which explained a whole lot to +me--drunken fathers and brutal husbands who poisoned their own +wives--it taught that not all the blame rests upon the weakness of the +women." + +"Of course it doesn't," exclaimed MacFarland impetuously. "It rests +upon Nature, and the way our boasted Society is mistreating Nature. +Woman is weaker than man when it comes to brute force; you know it is +force which does rule the world when you do get down to it, in +government, in property, in business, in education--it is all survival +of the strongest, not always of the fittest. A woman should be in the +home; she can raise babies, for which Nature intended her. She can +rule the world through her children, but when she gets out to fight +hand to hand with man in the work-world she is outclassed. She can't +stand the physical strain thirty days in the month; she can't stand the +starvation, the mistreatment, the battling that a man gets in the +world. She needs tenderness and care, for you know every normal woman +is a mother-to-be--and that is the most wonderful thing in the world, +the most beautiful. When the woman comes up against the stone wall of +competition with men her weakness asserts itself. That's why good +women fall. It's not the 'easiest way'--it's just forced upon them. +As for the naturally bad women--well, that has come from some trait of +another generation, some weakness which has been increased instead of +cured by all this twisted, tangled thing we call modern civilization." + +The doctor sighed. + +"There are a lot of women in the world right now, Burke, who are +fighting for what they call the 'Feminist Movement'. They don't want +homes; they want men's jobs. They don't want to raise their babies in +the old-fashioned way; they want the State to raise them with trained +nurses and breakfast food. They don't see anything beautiful in home +life, and cooking, and loving their husbands. They want the lecture +platform (and the gate-receipts); they want to run the government, they +want men to be breeders, like the drones in the beehive, and they don't +want to be tied to one man for life. They want to visit around. The +worst of it is that they are clever, they write well, they talk well, +and they interest the women who are really normal, who only half-read, +only half-analyze, and only get a part of the idea! These normal women +are devoting, as they should, most of their energies to the normal +things of woman life--children, home, charity, and neighborliness. But +the clever feminist revolutionists are giving them just enough argument +to make them dissatisfied. They flatter the domestic woman by telling +her she is not enough appreciated, and that she should control the +country. They lead the younger women away from the old ideals of love +and home and religion; in their place they would substitute +selfishness, loose morals, and will change the chivalry, which it has +taken men a thousand years to cultivate, into brutal methods, when men +realize that women want absolute equality. Then, should such a +condition ever be accepted by society in general, we will do away with +the present kind of social evil--to have a tidal wave of lust." + +Bobbie listened with interest. It was evident that Doctor MacFarland +was opening up a subject close to his heart. The old man's eyes +sparkled as he continued. + +"You asked about the traffic in women, as we hear of it in New York. +Well, the only way we can cure it is to educate the men of all classes +so that for reasons moral, sanitary, and feelings of honest pride in +themselves they will not patronize the market where souls are sought. +This can't be done by passing laws, but by better books, better ways of +amusement, better living conditions for working people, so that they +will not be 'driven to drink' and what follows it to forget their +troubles. Better factories and kinder treatment to the great number of +workmen, with fairer wage scale would bring nearer the possibility of +marriage--which takes not one, but two people out of the danger of the +gutter. Minimum wage scales and protection of working women would make +the condition of their lives better, so that they would not be forced +into the streets and brothels to make their livings. + +"Why, Burke, a magistrate who sits in Night Court has told me that +medical investigation of the street-walkers he has sentenced revealed +the fact that nine of every ten were diseased. When the men who +foolishly think they are good 'sports' by debauching with these women +learn that they are throwing away the health of their wives and +children to come, as well as risking the contagion of diseases which +can only be bottled up by medical treatment but never completely cured; +when it gets down to the question of men buying and selling these poor +women as they undoubtedly do, the only way to check that is for every +decent man in the country to help in the fight. It is a man evil; men +must slay it. Every procurer in the country should be sent to prison, +and every house of ill fame should be closed." + +"Don't you think the traffic would go on just the same, doctor? I have +heard it said that in European cities the authorities confined such +women to certain parts of the city. Then they are subjected to medical +examination as well." + +"No, Burke, segregation will not cure it. Many of the cities abroad +have given that up. The medical examinations are no true test, for +they are only partially carried out--not all the women will admit their +sinful ways of life, nor submit to control by the government. The +system prevails in Paris and in Germany, and there is more disease +there than in any other part of Europe. Men, depending upon the +imaginary security of a doctor's examination card, abandon themselves +the more readily, and caution is thrown to the winds, with the result +that a woman who has been O.K.'d by a government physician one day may +contract a disease and spread it the very next day. You can depend +upon it that if she has done so she will evade the examination next +time in order not to interfere with her trade profits. So, there you +are. This is an ugly theme, but we must treat it scientifically. + +"You know it used to be considered vulgar to talk about the stomach and +other organs which God gave us for the maintenance of life. But when +folks began to realize that two-thirds of the sickness in the world, +contagious and otherwise, resulted from trouble with the stomach, that +false modesty had to give way. Consequently to-day we have fewer +epidemics, much better general health, because men and women understand +how to cure many of their own ailments with prompt action and simple +methods. + +"The vice problem is one which reaps its richest harvest when it is +protected from the sunlight. Sewers are not pleasant table-talk, but +they must be watched and attended by scientific sanitary engineers. A +cancer of the intestines is disagreeable to think about. But when it +threatens a patient's life the patient should know the truth and the +doctor should operate. Modern society is the patient, and +death-dealing sex crimes are the cancerous growth, which must be +operated upon. Whenever we allow a neighborhood to maintain houses of +prostitution, thus regulating and in a way sanctioning the evil, we are +granting a sort of corporation charter for an industry which is run +upon business methods. And business, you know, is based upon filling +the 'demand,' with the necessary 'supply.' And the manufacturers, in +this case, are the procurers and the proprietresses of these houses. +There comes in the business of recruiting--and hence the traffic in +souls, as it has aptly been called. No, my boy, government regulation +will never serve man, nor woman, for it cannot cover all the ground. +As long as women are reckless, lazy and greedy, yielding to temporary, +half-pleasant sin rather than live by work, you will find men with low +ideals in all ranks of life who prefer such illicit 'fun' to the +sweetness of wedlock! Why, Burke, sex is the most beautiful thing in +the world--it puts the blossoms on the trees, it colors the +butterflies' wings, it sweetens the songs of the birds, and it should +make life worth living for the worker in the trench, the factory hand, +the office toiler and the millionaire. But it will never do so until +people understand it, know how to guard it with decent knowledge, and +sanctify it morally and hygienically." + +The old doctor rose and knocked the ashes out of his briar pipe. He +looked at the eager face of the young officer. + +"But there, I'm getting old, for I yield to the melody of my own voice +too much. I've got office hours, you know, and I'd better get back to +my pillboxes. Just excuse an old man who is too talkative sometimes, +but remember that what I've said to you is not my own old-fashioned +notion, but a little boiled-down philosophy from the writings of the +greatest modern scientists." + +"Good-bye, Doctor MacFarland. I'll not forget it. It has answered a +lot of questions in my mind." + +Bobbie went to the front door of the station house with the old +gentleman, and saluted as a farewell. + +"What's he been chinning to you about, Burke?" queried the Captain. +"Some of his ideas of reforming the world? He's a great old character, +is Doc." + +"I think he knows a lot more about religion than a good many ministers +I've heard," replied Bobbie. "He ought to talk to a few of them." + +"Sure. But they wouldn't listen if he did. They're too busy getting +money to send to the heathens in China, and the niggers in Africa to +bother about the heathens and poor devils here. I'm pretty strong for +Doc MacFarland, even though I don't get all he's talking about." + +"Say, Burke, the Doc got after me one day and gave me a string of books +as long as your arm to read," put in Dexter. "He seems to think a cop +ought to have as much time to read as a college boy!" + +"You let me have the list, Dexter, and I'll coach you up on it," +laughed Burke. + +"To-day is your relief, Burke," said the Captain. "You can go up to +the library and wallow in literature if you want to." + +Burke smiled, as he retorted: + +"I'm going to a better place to do my reading--and not out of books +either, Cap." + +He changed his clothes, and soon emerged in civilian garb. He had +never paid his call on John Barton, although he had been out of the +hospital for several days. The old man's frequent visits to him in his +private room at the hospital, after that first memorable meeting, had +ripened their friendship. Barton had told him of a number of new ideas +in electrical appliances, and Burke was anxious to see what progress +had been made since the old fellow returned to his home. + +Officer 4434 was also anxious to see another member of his family, and +so it was with a curious little thrill of excitement, well concealed, +however, with which he entered the modest apartment of the Bartons' +that evening. + +"Well, well, well!" exclaimed the old man, as the young officer took +his hand. "We thought you had forgotten us completely. Mary has asked +me several times if you had been up to see me. I suppose you have been +busy with those gangsters, and keep pretty close since you returned to +active service." + +Bobbie nodded. + +"Yes, sir. They are always with us, you know. And a policeman does +not have very much time to himself, particularly if he lolls around in +bed with a throb in the back of the head, during his off hours, as I've +been foolish enough to do." + +"Oh, how are you feeling, Mr. Burke?" exclaimed Mary, as she entered +from the rear room. + +She held out her hand, and Bobbie trembled a trifle as he took her +soft, warm fingers in his own. + +"I'm improving, and don't believe I was ever laid up--it was just +imagination on my part," answered Burke. "But I have a faded rose to +make me remember that some of it was a pleasant imagination, at any +rate." + +Mary laughed softly, and dropped her eyes ever so slightly. But the +action betrayed that she had not forgotten either. + +Old Barton busied himself with some papers on a table by the side of +his wheel-chair, for he was a diplomat. + +"Well, now, Mr. Burke--what are your adventures? I read every day of +some policeman jumping off a dock in the East River to rescue a +suicide, or dragging twenty people out of a burning tenement, and am +afraid that it's you. It's all right to be a hero, you know, but +there's a great deal of truth in that old saying about it being better +to have people remark, 'There he goes,' than 'Doesn't he look natural.'" + +Bobbie took the comfortable armchair which Mary drew up. + +"I haven't had anything really worth while telling about," said Burke. +"I see a lot of sad things, and it makes a man feel as though he were a +poor thing not to be able to improve conditions." + +"That's true of every walk in life. But most people don't look at the +sad any longer than they can help. I've not been having a very jolly +time of it myself, but I hope for a lot of good news before long. Why +don't you bring Lorna in to meet Mr. Burke, Mary?" + +The girl excused herself, and retired. + +"How are your patents?" asked Bobbie, with interest. "I hope you can +show tricks to the Gresham people." + +The old man sighed. He took up some drawings and opened a little +drawer in the table. + +"No, Mr. Burke, I am afraid my tricks will be slow. I have received no +letter from young Gresham in reply to one I wrote him, asking to be +given a salary for mechanical work here in my home. Every bit of my +savings has been exhausted. You know I educated my daughters to the +limit of my earnings, since my dear wife died. They have hard sledding +in front of them for a while, I fear." + +He hesitated, and then continued: + +"Do you remember the day you met Mary? She started to say that she and +Lorna could not see me on visiting day. Well, the dear girls had +secured a position as clerks in Monnarde's big candy store up on Fifth +Avenue. They talked it over between them, and decided that it was +better for them to get to work, to relieve my mind of worry. It's the +first time they ever worked, and they are sticking to it gamely. But +it makes me feel terribly. Their mother never had to work, and I feel +as though I have been a failure in life--to have done as much as I +have, and yet not have enough in my old age to protect them from the +world." + +"There, there, Mr. Barton. I don't agree with you. There is no +disgrace in womanly work; it proves what a girl is worth. She learns +the value of money, which before that had merely come to her without a +question from her parents. And you have been a splendid father ... +that's easily seen from the fine sort of girl Miss Mary is." + +Mary had stepped into the room with her younger sister as he spoke. +They hesitated at the kindly words, and Mary drew her sister back +again, her face suffused with a rosiness which was far from unhappy in +its meaning. + +"Well, I am very proud of Mary and Lorna. If this particular scheme +works out they will be able to buy their candy at Monnarde's instead of +selling it." + +Bobbie rose and leaned over the table. + +"What is it? I'm not very good at getting mechanical drawings. It +looks as though it ought to be very important from all the wheels," he +said, with a smile of interest. + +Spreading out the largest of his drawings, old Barton pointed out the +different lines. + +"This may look like a mince pie of cogs here, but when it is put into +shape it will be a simple little arrangement. This is a recording +instrument which combines the phonograph and the dictagraph. One +purpose--the most practical, is that a business man may dictate his +letters and memoranda while sitting at his desk, in his office, instead +of having a machine with a phonograph in his private office taking up +space and requiring the changing of records by the dictator--which is +necessary with the present business phonograph. All that will be +necessary is for him to speak into a little disc. The sound waves are +carried by a simple arrangement of wiring into his outer office, or +wherever his stenographer works. There, where the space is presumably +cheaper and easier of access than the private office, the receiving end +of the machine is located. Instead of one disc at a time--limited to a +certain number of letters--the machine has a magazine of discs, +something like the idea of a repeating letter. Automatically the disc, +which is filled, is moved up and a fresh disc takes its place. This +goes on indefinitely, as you might say. A man can dictate two hundred +letters, speaking as rapidly as he thinks. He never has to bother over +changing his records. The girl at the other end of the wire does that +when the machine registers that the supply is being exhausted. She in +turn uses the discs on the regular business phonograph, or, as this is +intended for large offices, where there are a great many letters, and +consequently a number of stenographers, she can assign the records to +the different typists." + +"Why, that is wonderful, Mr. Barton!" exclaimed Burke. "It ought to +make a fortune for you if it is backed and financed right. Why didn't +anyone think of it before?" + +Barton smiled, and caressed his drawing affectionately. + +"Mr. Burke, the Patent Office is maintained for men who think up things +that some fellow should have thought of before! The greatest +inventions are apparently the simplest. That's what makes them hard to +invent!" + +He pointed to another drawing. + +"That has a business value, too, and I hope to get the proper support +when I have completed my models. You know, a scientific man can see +all these things on the paper, but to the man with money they are pipe +dreams until he sees the wheels go 'round." + +He now held out his second drawing, which was easier to understand, for +it was a sketch of his appliance, showing the outer appearance, and +giving a diagonal section of a desk or room, with a wire running +through a wall into another compartment. + +"Here is where the scientist yields to his temperament and wastes a lot +of time on something which probably will never bring him a cent. This +is a combination of my record machine, which will be of interest to +your profession." + +Bobbie examined it closely, but could not divine its purpose. + +"It is the application of the phonographic record to the dictagraph, so +that police and detective work can be absolutely recorded, without the +shadow of a doubt remaining in the minds of a trial jury or judge. +Maybe this is boring you?" + +"No, no--go on!" + +"Well, when dictagraphs are used for the discovery of criminals it has +been necessary to keep expert stenographers, and at least one other +witness at the end of the wire to put down the record. Frequently the +stenographer cannot take the words spoken as fast as he should to make +the record. Sometimes it is impossible to get the stenographer and the +witness on the wire at the exact time. Of course, this is only a crazy +idea. But it seems to me that by a little additional appliance which I +have planned, the record machine could be put into a room nearby, or +even another house. If a certain place were under suspicion the +machine could rest with more ease, less food and on smaller wages than +a detective and stenographer on salary. When any one started to talk +in this suspected room the vibrations of the voices would start a +certain connection going through this additional wire, which would set +the phonograph into action. As long as the conversation continued the +records would be running continuously. No matter how rapidly words are +uttered the phonograph would get them, and could be run, for further +investigation, as slowly and as many times as desired. When the +conversation stopped the machine would automatically blow its own +dinner whistle and adjourn the meeting until the talk began again. +This would take the record of at least an hour's conversation: another +attachment would send in a still-alarm to the detective agency or +police station, so that within that hour a man could be on the job with +a new supply of records and bait the trap again." + +"Wonderful!" + +"Yes, and the most important part is that this is the only way of +keeping a record which cannot be called a 'frame-up'--for it is a +photograph of the sound waves. A grafter, a murderer, or any other +criminal could be made to speak the same words in court as were put on +the phonographic record, and his voice identified beyond the shadow of +a doubt!" + +Bobbie clapped his hand on the old man's shoulder. + +"Why, Mr. Barton, that is the greatest invention ever made for +capturing and convicting criminals. It's wonderful! The Police +Departments of the big cities should buy enough machines to make you +rich, for you could demand your own price." + +Barton looked dreamily toward the window, through which twinkled the +distant lights of the city streets. + +"I want money, Burke, as every sane man does. But this pet of mine +means more than money. I want to contribute my share to justice just +as you do yours. Who knows, some day it may reward me in a way which +no money could ever repay. You never can tell about such things. Who +knows?" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +ROSES AND THORNS + +Mary's sister was as winsome and fair as she, but to Burke's keen eyes +she was a weaker girl. There was a suggestion of too much attention to +dress, a self-consciousness tinged with self-appreciation. + +When she was introduced to Bobbie he could feel instinctively an +under-current of condescension, ever so slight, yet perceptible to the +sensitive young fellow. + +"You're the first policeman I've ever met," began Lorna, with a smile, +"and I really don't half believe you are one. I always think of them +as swinging clubs and taking a handful of peanuts off a stand, as they +walk past a corner cart. Really, I do." + +Burke reddened, but retorted, amiably enough. + +"I don't like peanuts, for they always remind me of the Zoo, and I +never liked Zoos! But I plead guilty to swinging a club when occasion +demands. You know even millionaires have their clubs, and so you can't +deny us the privilege, can you?" + +Lorna laughed, and gracefully pushed back a stray curl with her pretty +hand. Mary frowned a bit, but trusted that Bobbie had not noticed the +lack of tact. + +"I've seen policemen tugging at a horse's head and getting nearly +trampled to death to save some children in a runaway carriage. That +was on Fifth Avenue yesterday, just when we quit work, Lorna." She +emphasized the word "work," and Bobbie liked her the more for it. +"And, last winter, I saw two of them taking people out on a +fire-escape, wet, and covered with icicles, in a big fire over there on +Manhattan Avenue. They didn't look a bit romantic, Lorna, and they +even had red faces and pug noses. But I think that's a pleasanter +memory than shoplifting from peanut stands." + +Lorna smiled winningly, however, and sat down, not without a decorative +adjustment of her pretty silk dress. Bobbie forgave her, principally +because she looked so much like Mary. + +They chatted as young people will, while old Barton mumbled and studied +over his drawings, occasionally adding a detail, and calculating on a +pad as though he were working out some problem in algebra. + +Lorna's chief topic was the theater and dancing. + +Mary endeavored to bring the conversation around to other things. + +"I have to admit that I'm very green on theaters, Miss Barton," said +Bobbie to the younger sister. "I love serious plays, and these +old-fashioned kind of comedies, which teach a fellow that there's some +happiness in life----but, I don't get the time to attend them. My +station is down on the East Side, and I see so much tragedy and +unhappiness that it has given me about all the real-life plays I could +want, since I came to the police work." + +Lorna scoffed, and tossed her curls. + +"Oh, I don't like that stupid old stuff myself. I like the musical +comedies that have dancing, and French dresses, and cleverness. I +think all the serious plays nowadays are nothing but scandal--a girl +can't go to see them without blushing and wishing she were at home." + +"I don't agree with you, Lorna. There are some things in life that a +girl should learn. An unpleasant play is likely to leave a bad taste +in one's mouth, but that bad taste may save her from thinking that evil +can be honey-coated and harmless. Why, the show we saw the other +night--those costumes, those dances, and the songs! There was nothing +left to imagine. They stop serious plays, and ministers preach sermons +about them, while the musical comedies that some of the managers +produce are a thousand times worse, for they teach only a bad lesson." + +As Lorna started to reply the bell rang and Mary went to the door. + +Two young men were outside and, at Mary's stiff invitation, they +entered. Burke rose, politely. + +"Why, how do you do, Mr. Baxter?" exclaimed Lorna, enthusiastically, as +she extended one hand and arranged that disobedient lock of hair with +the other. "Come right in, this is such a pleasant surprise." + +Baxter advanced, and introduced his companion. + +"This is my friend, Reggie Craig, Miss Barton. We're just on our way +down to Dawley's for a little supper and a dance afterward. You know +they have some great tangoing there, and I know you like it." + +Lorna introduced Craig and Baxter to the others. As she came to Bobbie +she said, "This is Mr. Burke. You wouldn't believe it, but he is a----" + +"Friend of father's," interrupted Mary, with a look which did not +escape either Bobbie or Lorna. "Won't you sit down, gentlemen?" + +Burke was studying the two men with his usual rapidity of observation. + +Baxter was tall, with dark, curly hair, carefully plastered straight +back from a low, narrow forehead. His grooming was immaculate: his +"extreme" cutaway coat showed a good physique, but the pallor of the +face above it bespoke dissipation of the strength of that natural +endowment. His shoes, embellished with pearl buttons set with +rhinestones, were of the latest vogue, described in the man-who-saw +column of the theater programmes. He looked, for all the world, like +an advertisement for ready-tailored suitings. + +His companion was slighter in build but equally fastidious in +appearance. When he drew a handkerchief from his cuff Bobbie completed +the survey and walked over toward old Barton, to look at the more +interesting drawings. + +"You girls must come along to Dawley's, you simply must, you know," +began Baxter, still standing. "Of course, we'd be glad to have your +father's friend, if he likes dancing." + +"That's very kind of you, but you know I've a lot to talk about with +Mr. Barton," answered Bobbie, quietly. + +"May we go, father?" asked Lorna, impetuously. + +"Well, I thought," said the old gentleman, "I thought that you'd----" + +"Father, I haven't been to a dance or a supper since you were injured. +You know that," pouted Lorna. + +"What do you want to do, Mary dear?" asked the old man, helplessly. + +"It's very kind of Mr. Baxter, but you know we have a guest." + +Mary quietly sat down, while Lorna's temper flared. + +"Well, I'm going anyway. I'm tired of working and worrying. I want to +have pleasure and music and entertainment like thousands of other girls +in New York. I owe it to myself. I don't intend to sit around here +and talk about tenement fires and silly old patents." + +Burke was embarrassed, but not so the visiting fashion plates. Baxter +and Craig merely smiled at each other with studied nonchalance; they +seemed used to such scenes, thought Bobbie. + +Lorna flounced angrily from the room, while her father wiped his +forehead with a trembling hand. + +"Why, Lorna," he expostulated weakly. But Lorna reappeared with a +pretty evening wrap and her hat in her hand. She donned the hat, +twisting it to a coquettish angle, and Baxter unctuously assisted her +to place the wrap about her shoulders. + +"Lorna, I forbid your going out at this time of the evening with two +gentlemen we have never met before," cried Mary. + +But Lorna opened the door and wilfully left the room, followed by +Craig. Baxter turned as he left, and smiled sarcastically. + +"Good-_night_!" he remarked, with a significant accent on the last word. + +Mary's face was white, as she looked appealingly at Burke. He tried to +comfort her in his quiet way. + +"I wouldn't worry, Miss Mary. I think they are nice young fellows, and +you know young girls are the same the world over. I am sure they are +all right, and will look after her--you know, some people do think a +whole lot of dancing and jolly company, and it is punishment for them +to have to talk all the time on serious things. I don't blame her, for +I'm poor company--and only a policeman, after all." + +John Barton looked disconsolately at the door which had slammed after +the trio. + +"You do think it's all right, don't you, Burke?" + +"Why, certainly," said Burke. He lied like a gentleman and a soldier. + +Old Barton was ill at ease, although he endeavored to cover his anxiety +with his usual optimism. + +"We are too hard on the youngsters, I fear," he began. "It's true that +Lorna has not had very much pleasure since I was injured. The poor +child has had many sleepless nights of worry since then, as well. You +know she has always been our baby, while my Mary here has been the +little mother since my dear wife left us." + +Mary forced a smiling reply: "You dear daddy, don't worry. I know +Lorna's fine qualities, and I wish we could entertain more for her than +we do right in our little flat. That's one of the causes of New York's +unnatural life. In the small towns and suburbs girls have porches and +big parlors, while they live in a surrounding of trees and flowers. +They have home music, jolly gatherings about their own pianos; we can't +afford even to rent a piano just now. So, there, daddy, be patient and +forgive Lorna's thoughtlessness." + +Barton's face beamed again, as he caressed his daughter's soft brown +curls, when she leaned over his chair to kiss him. + +"My blessed little Mary: you are as old as your mother--as old as all +motherhood, in your wisdom. I feel more foolishly a boy each day, as I +realize the depth of your devotion and love." + +Burke's eyes filled with tears, which he manfully wiped away with a +sneaking little movement of his left hand, as he pretended to look out +of the window toward the distant lights. A man whose tear-ducts have +dried with adolescence is cursed with a shriveled soul for the rest of +his life. + +"Now, we mustn't let our little worry make you feel badly, Mr. Burke. +Do you know, I've been thinking about a little matter in which you are +concerned? Why don't you have your interests looked after in your home +town?" + +"My uncle? Well, I am afraid that's a lost cause. I went to the +family lawyer when I returned from my army service, and he charged me +five dollars for advising me to let the matter go. He said that law +was law, and that the whole matter had been ended, that I had no +recourse. I think I'll just stick to my work, and let my uncle get +what pleasure he can out of his treatment of me." + +"That is a great mistake. If he was your family lawyer, it is very +possible that your uncle anticipated your going to him. And some +lawyers have elastic notions of what is possible--depending upon the +size of your fee. Now, I have a young friend down town. He is a +patent lawyer, and I trust him. Why don't you let him look into this +matter. I have given him other cases before, through my connections +with the Greshams. He proved honorable and energetic. Let me write +you out a letter of introduction." + +"Perhaps you are right. I appreciate your advice and it will do no +harm to let him try his best," said Bobbie. "I'll give him the facts +and let him investigate matters." + +The old man wrote a note while Burke and Mary became better acquainted. +Even in her attempt to speak gaily and happily, Bobbie could discern +her worriment. As Barton finished his writing, handing the envelope to +Burke, the younger man decided to take a little initiative of his own. + +"It's late, Mr. Barton. I have had a pleasant evening, and I hope I +may have many more. But you know I promised Doctor MacFarland, the +police surgeon, that I would go to bed early on the days when I was off +duty. So I had better be getting back down town." + +They protested cordially, but Bobbie was soon out on the street, +walking toward the Subway. + +He did not take the train for his own neighborhood, however. Instead +he boarded a local which stopped at Sixty-sixth Street, the heart of +what is called the "New Tenderloin." + +In this district are dozens of dance halls, flashy restaurants and +_cafes chantantes_. A block from the Subway exit was the well-known +establishment called "Dawley's." This was the destination of Baxter +and Craig, with Lorna Barton. Bobbie thought it well to take an +observation of the social activities of these two young men. + +He entered the big, glittering room, his coat and hat rudely jerked +from his arms by a Greek check boy, at the doorway, without the useless +formula of request. + +The tables were arranged about the walls, leaving an open space in the +center for dancing. Nearly every chair was filled, while the popping +of corks and the clinking of glasses even so early in the evening +testified to the popularity of Dawley's. + +"They seem to prefer this sort of thing to theaters," thought Bobbie. +"Anyway, this crowd is funnier than most comedies I've seen." + +He looked around him, after being led to a corner seat by the +obsequious head waiter. There was a preponderance of fat old men and +vacuous looking young girls of the type designated on Broadway as +"chickens." Here and there a slumming party was to be seen--elderly +women and ill-at-ease men, staring curiously at the diners and dancers; +young married couples who seemed to be enjoying their self-thrilled +deviltry and new-found freedom. An orchestra of negro musicians were +rattling away on banjos, mandolins, and singing obligatos in +deep-voiced improvisations. The drummer and the cymbalist were the +busiest of all; their rattling, clanging, banging addition to the music +gave it an irresistible rhythmic cadence. Even Burke felt the call of +the dance, until he studied the evolutions of the merrymakers. Oddly +assorted couples, some in elaborate evening dress, women in +shoulderless, sleeveless, backless gowns, men in dinner-coats, girls in +street clothes with yard-long feathers, youths in check suits, old men +in staid business frock coats--what a motley throng! All were busily +engaged in the orgy of a bacchanalian dance in which couples reeled and +writhed, cheek to cheek, feet intertwining, arms about shoulders. +Instead of enjoying themselves the men seemed largely engaged in +counting their steps, and watching their own feet whenever possible: +the girls kept their eyes, for the most part, upon the mirrors which +covered the walls, each watching her poises and swings, her hat, her +curls, her lips, with obvious complacency. + +Burke was nauseated, for instead of the old-time fun of a jolly dance, +this seemed some weird, unnatural, bestial, ritualistic evolution. + +"And they call this dancing?" he muttered. "But, I wonder where Miss +Lorna is?" + +He finally espied her, dancing with Baxter. The latter was swinging +his arms and body in a snakey, serpentine one-step, as he glided down +the floor, pushing other couples out of the way. Lorna, like the other +girls, lost no opportunity to admire her own reflection in the mirrors. + +Burke was tempted to rush forward and intercede, to pull her out of the +arms of the repulsive Baxter. But he knew how foolish he would appear, +and what would be the result of such an action. + +As he looked the waiter approached for his order. + +Burke took the menu, decorated with dancing figures which would have +seemed more appropriate for some masquerade ball poster, for the Latin +Quarter, and began to read the _entrees_. + +As he looked down two men brushed past his table, and a sidelong glance +gave him view of a face which made him quickly forget the choice of +food. + +It was Jimmie the Monk, flashily dressed, debonnaire as one to the +manor born, talking with Craig, the companion of Baxter. + +Burke held the menu card before his face. He was curious to hear the +topic of their conversation. When he did so--the words were clear and +distinct, as Baxter and Jimmie sat down at a table behind him--his +heart bounded with horror. + +"Who's dis new skirt, Craig?" + +"Oh, it's a kid Baxter picked up in Monnarde's candy store. It's the +best one he's landed yet, but we nearly got in Dutch to-night when we +went up to her flat to bring her out. Her old man and her sister were +there with some nut, and they didn't want her to go. But Baxter +"lamped" her, and she fell for his eyes and sneaked out anyway. You +better keep off, Jimmie, for you don't look like a college boy--and +that's the gag Baxter's been giving her. She thinks she's going to a +dance at the Yale Club next week. It's harder game than the last one, +but we'll get it fixed to-night. You better send word to Izzie to +bring up his taxi--in about an hour." + +"I'll go now, Craig. Tell Baxter dat it'll be fixed. Where'll he take +her?" + +Craig replied in a low tone, which thwarted Burke's attempt to +eavesdrop. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE WORK OF THE GANGSTERS + +Bobbie Burke's eyes sparkled with the flame of battle spirit, yet he +maintained an outward calm. He turned his face toward the wall of the +restaurant while Jimmie the Monk tripped nonchalantly out into the +street. Burke did not wish to be recognized too soon. The negro +musicians struck up a livelier tune than before. The dancing couples +bobbed and writhed in the sensuous, shameless intimacies of the +demi-mondaine bacchante. The waiters merrily juggled trays, stacked +skillfully with vari-colored drinks, and bumped the knees of the +close-sitting guests with silvered champagne buckets. Popping corks +resounded like the distant musketry of the crack sharp-shooters of the +Devil's Own. Indeed, this was an ambuscade of the greatest, oldest, +cruellest, most blood-thirsty conflict of civilized history--the War of +the Roses--the Massacre of the Innocents! In Bobbie's ears the +jangling tambourine, the weird splutterings of the banjos, the twanging +of the guitars, the shrill music of the violins and clarionet, the +monotonous rag-time pom-pom of the piano accompanist, the clash and +bang of cymbal and base-drum, the coarse minor cadences of the negro +singers--all so essential to cabaret dancing of this class--sounded +like the war pibroch of a Satanic clan of reincarnate fiends. + +The waiter was serving some savory viands, for such establishments +cater cleverly to the beast of the dining room as well as of the +boudoir. + +But Burke was in no mood to eat or drink. His soul was sickened, but +his mind was working with lightning acumen. + +"Bring me my check now as I may have to leave before you come around +again," he directed his waiter. + +"Yes, sir, certainly," responded the Tenderloin Dionysius, not without +a shade of regret in his cackling voice. Early eaters and short +stayers reduced the percentage on tips, while moderate orders of drinks +meant immoderate thrift--to the waiter. + +The check was forthcoming at once. Burke quietly corrected the +addition of the items to the apparent astonishment of the waiter. He +produced the exact change, while a thunder-storm seemed imminent on the +face of his servitor. Burke, however, drew forth a dollar bill from +his pocket, and placed it with the other change, smiling significantly. + +"Oh, sir, thank you"--began the waiter, surprised into the strictly +unprofessional weakness of an appreciation. + +Bobbie, with a left-ward twitch of his head, and a slight quiver of the +lid of his left eye, brought an attentive ear close to his mouth. + +"My boy, I want you to go outside and have the taxicab starter reserve +a machine for 'Mr. Green.' Tell him to have it run forward and clear +of the awning in front of the restaurant--slip him this other dollar, +now, and impress on him that I want that car about twenty-five feet to +the right of the door as you go out." + +The waiter nodded, and leered slyly. + +"All right, sir--I get ye, Mr. Green. It's a quick getaway, is that +it?" + +"Exactly," answered Bobbie, "and I want the chauffeur to have all his +juice on--the engine cranked and ready for another Vanderbilt Cup +Race." Bobbie gave the waiter one of his best smiles--behind that +smile was a manful look, a kindliness of character and a great power of +purpose, which rang true, even to this blase and cynical dispenser of +the grape. The latter nodded and smiled, albeit flabbily, into the +winsome eyes of the young officer. + +"Ye're a reg'lar fellar, Mr. Green, I kin see that! Trust me to have a +lightning conductor fer you--with his lamps lit and burning. These +nighthawk taxis around here make most of their mazuma by this fly +stuff--generally the souses ain't got enough left for a taxicab, and +it's a waste o' time stickin' 'em up since the rubes are so easy with +the taxi meter. But just look out for a little badger work on the +chauffeur when ye git through with 'im." + +Burke nodded. Then he added. "Just keep this to yourself, won't you? +There's nothing crooked about it--I'm trying to do some one a good +turn. Tell them to keep the taxi ready, no matter how long it takes." + +"Sure and I will, Mr. Green." + +The waiter walked away toward the front door, where he carried out +Burke's instructions, slipping the second bill into the willing hand of +the starter. + +As he came back he shrewdly studied the face of the young policeman who +was quietly listening to the furious fusillade of the ragtime musicians. + +"Well, that guy's not as green as he says his name is. He don't look +like no crook, neither! I wonder what his stall is? Well, _I_ should +worry!" + +And he went his way rejoicing in the possession of that peace of mind +which comes to some men who let neither the joys nor woes of others +break through the armament of their own comfortable placidity. Every +night of his life was crowded with curious, sad and ridiculous +incidents; had he let them linger long in his mind his hand and +temperament would have suffered a loss of accumulative skill. That +would have spelled ruin, and this particular waiter, like so many of +his flabby-faced brothers, was a shrewd tradesman--in the commodities +of his discreetly elastic memory--and the even more valuable asset, a +talent for forgetting! + +Burke was biding his time, and watching developments. + +He saw the mealy-faced Baxter take Lorna out upon the dancing floor for +the next dance. They swung into the rhythm of the dance with easy +familiarity, which proved that the girl was no novice in this style of +terpsichorean enjoyment. + +"She has been to other dances like this," muttered Bobbie as he watched +with a strange loathing in his heart. "It's terrible to see the girls +of a great modern city like New York entering publicly into a dance +which I used to see on the Barbary Coast in 'Frisco. If they had seen +it danced out there I don't believe they'd be so anxious to imitate it +now." + +Lorna and Baxter returned through the crowded merrymakers to their +seats, and sat down at the table. + +"You need another cocktail," suggested Baxter, after sipping one +himself and forgetting the need for reserve in his remarks. "You +mustn't be a bum sport at a dance like this, Miss Barton." + +"Oh, Mr. Baxter, I don't dare go home with a breath like cocktails. +You know Mary and I sleep together," objected Lorna. + +"Don't worry about that, little girlie," said Baxter. "She won't mind +it to-night." + +To Burke's keen ears there was a shade of hidden menace in the words. + +"Come on, now, just this one," said Baxter coaxingly. "It won't hurt. +There's always room for one more." + +What a temptation it was for the muscular policeman to swing around and +shake the miserable wretch as one would a cur! + +But Bobbie had learned the value of controlling his temper; that is one +of the first requisites of a policeman's as well as of an army man's +life. + +"Do you know, Mr. Baxter," said Lorna, after she had yielded to the +insistence of her companion, "that cocktail makes me a little dizzy. I +guess it will take me a long while to get used to such drinks. You +know, I've been brought up in an awfully old-fashioned way. My father +would simply kill me if he thought I drank beer--and as for cocktails +and highballs and horse's necks, and all those real drinks ... well, I +hate to think of it. Ha! ha!" + +And she laughed in a silly way which made Burke know that she was +beginning to feel the effect. + +"I wonder if I hadn't better assert myself right now?" he mused, +pretending to eat a morsel. "It would cause a commotion, but it would +teach her a lesson, and would teach her father to keep a closer watch." + +Just then he heard his own name mentioned by the girl behind. + +"Say, Mr. Baxter, you came just at the right time to-night. That Burke +who was calling on father is a stupid policeman, whom he met in the +hospital, and I was being treated to a regular sermon about life and +wickedness and a lot of tiresome rot. I don't like policemen, do you?" + +"I should say not!" was Baxter's heartfelt answer. + +They were silent an instant. + +"A policeman, you say, eh?" + +"Yes; I certainly don't think he's fit to call on nice people. The +next think we know father will have firemen and cab-drivers and street +cleaners, I suppose. They're all in the same class to me--just +servants." + +"What precinct did he come from?" + +Baxter's tone was more earnest than it had been. + +Burke's face reddened at the girl's slur, but he continued his waiting +game. + +"Precinct? What's that? I don't know where he came from. He's a New +York policeman, that's all I found out. It didn't interest me, why +should it you? Oh, Mr. Baxter, look at that beautiful willow plume on +that girl's hat. She is a silly-looking girl, but that is a wonderful +hat." + +Baxter grunted and seemed lost in thought. + +Burke espied Jimmie the Monk meandering through the tables, in company +with a heavy, smooth-faced man whose eyes were directed from even that +distance toward the table at which Lorna sat. + +Burke wiped his forehead with his handkerchief, thus cutting off +Jimmie's possible view of his features. + +"Ah, Jimmie, back again. And I see you're with my old friend, Sam +Shepard!" + +Baxter rose to shake hands with the newcomer. He introduced him to +Lorna, backing close against Burke's shoulder as he did so. + +"This is my friend, Sam Shepard, the theatrical manager, Miss Lorna," +began Baxter. "He's the man who can get you on the stage. You know I +was telling you about him. This is Miss Barton, you've heard about, +Sam. Sit down and tell her about your new comic opera that you're +casting now." + +[Illustration: "This is my friend, Sam Shepard, the theatrical manager, +Miss Lorna. He's the man who can get you on the stage.] + +As Shepard shook Lorna's hand, Jimmie leaned over toward Baxter's ear +to whisper. They were not two feet from Burke's own ears, so he heard +the message: "I've got de taxi ready. Now, make a good getaway to +Reilly's house, Baxter." + +"Say, Jimmie, just a minute," murmured Baxter. "This girl says a cop +was up calling on her father. I met the guy. His name was Burke. Do +you know him? Is he apt to queer anything?" + +Jimmie the Monk started. + +"Burke? What did he look like?" + +"Oh, pretty slick-looking gink. Well set-up--looked like an army man, +and gave me a hard stare when he lamped me. Had been in the hospital +with the old fellow." + +"Gee, dat's Burke, de guy dat's been after me, and I'm goin' ter do +'im. Is he buttin' in on dis?" + +"Yes; what about him? You're not scared of him, are you?" + +"Naw; but he's a bad egg. Say, he's a rookie dat t'inks 'e kin clean +up our gang. Now, you better dish dis job and let Shepard pull de +trick. Take it from yer Uncle Jim!" + +Every syllable was audible to Burke, but Lorna was exchanging +pleasantries with Shepard, who had taken Baxter's seat. + +"All right, Jimmie. Beat it yourself." + +Baxter turned around as Jimmie quietly slipped away. Baxter leaned +over the table to smirk into the face of the young girl. + +"Say, Miss Lorna, some of my friends are over in another corner of the +room, and I'm going to speak to them. Now, save the next tango for me. +Mr. Shepard will fix it for you, and if you jolly him right you can get +into his new show, 'The Girl and the Dragon,' can't she, Sam?" + +"Where are you going?" exclaimed Shepard in a gruff tone. "You've got +to attend to something for me to-night." + +There was a brutal dominance which vibrated in his voice. Here was a +desperate character, thought Burke, who was accustomed to command +others; he was not the flabby weakling type, like Baxter and Craig. + +"It's better for you to do it, Sam. I'll tell you later. Jimmie just +tipped me off that there's a bull on the trail that's lamped me." + +Burke understood the shifting of their business arrangement, but to +Lorna the crook's slang was so much gibberish. + +"What did you say? I can't understand such funny talk, Mr. Baxter. I +guess I had too strong a cocktail, he! he!" she exclaimed. "What about +a lamp?" + +"That's all right, girlie," said Shepard, as Baxter walked quickly +away. "Some of his friends want him to go down to the Lamb's Club, but +he doesn't want to leave you. We'll have a little chat together while +he is gone. I'm not very good at dancing or I'd get you to turkey trot +with me." + +Lorna's voice was whiny now as she responded. + +"Oh, I'm feeling funny. That cocktail was too much for me.... I guess +I'd better go home." + +"There, there, my dear," Shepard reassured her. "You get that way for +a little while, but it's all right. You'd better have a little +beer--that will straighten you up." + +Only by the strongest will power could Burke resist his desire to +interpose now, yet the words of the men prepared him for something +which it would be more important to wait for--to interfere at the +dramatic moment. + +"Here, waiter, a bottle of beer!" ordered Shepard. + +Burke turned half way around, and, by a side-long glance, he saw +Shepard pulling a small vial from his hip pocket as he sat with his +back to the policeman. + +"Oh, ho! So here it comes!" thought Bobbie. "I'll be ready to stand +by now." + +He rose and pushed back his chair. The waiter had brought the bottle +with surprising alacrity, and Shepard poured out a glass for the young +girl. Bobbie stood fumbling with his change as an excuse to watch. +Lorna was engrossed in the bubbling foam of the beer and did not notice +him. + +"I guess he's afraid to do it now," thought Bobbie, as he failed to +observe any suspicious move. + +True, Shepard's hand passed swiftly over the glass as he handed it to +the girl. + +She drank it at his urging, and then suddenly her head sank forward on +her breast. + +Bobbie stifled his indignation with difficulty as Shepard gave an +exclamation of surprise. + +"My wife! She is sick! She has fainted!" cried Shepard to Burke's +amazement. The man acted his part cunningly. + +He had sprung to his feet as he rushed around the table to catch the +toppling girl. With a quick jump to her side Bobbie had caught her by +an arm, but Shepard indignantly pushed him aside. + +"How dare you, sir?" he exclaimed. "Take your hands off my wife." + +The man's bravado was splendid, and even the diners were impressed. +Most of them laughed, for to them it was only another drunken woman, a +familiar and excruciatingly funny object to most of them. + +"Aw, let the goil alone," cried one red-faced man who sat with a small, +heavily rouged girl of about sixteen. "Don't come between man and +wife!" And he laughed with coarse appreciation of his own humor. + +Shepard had lifted Lorna with his strong arms and was starting toward +the door. Burke saw the entrance to the men's cafe on the right. He +quietly walked into it, and then hurried toward the front, out through +the big glass door to the street. + +There, about twenty feet to his right, he saw the purring taxicab which +he had ordered waiting for a quick run. + +In front of the restaurant entrance, now to his left, was another car, +with a chauffeur standing by its open door, expectantly. + +Burke ran up just as Shepard emerged from the restaurant entrance. The +officer sprang at the big fellow and dealt him a terrible blow on the +side of the head. The man staggered and his hold weakened. As he did +so Burke caught the inanimate form of the young girl in his own arms. +He turned before Shepard or the waiting chauffeur could recover from +their surprise and ran toward the car at the right. The two men were +after him, but Burke lifted the girl into the machine and cried to the +chauffeur: + +"Go it!" + +"Who are you?" + +"I'm Mr. Green," said Burke. The chauffeur sprang into his seat, but +as he did so Shepard was upon the young officer and trying to climb +into the door. + +Biff! + +Here was a chance for every ounce of accumulated ire to assert itself, +and it did so, through the hardened muscles of Officer 4434's right +arm. Shepard sank backward with a groan, as the taxi-cab shot forward +obedient to its throttle. + +Burke was bounced backward upon the unconscious girl, but the machine +sped swiftly with a wise chauffeur at its wheel. He did not know where +his passenger wished to go, but his judgment told him it was away from +pursuit. + +He turned swiftly down the first street to the right. + +Back on the sidewalk before the restaurant there was intense +excitement. Baxter, Craig and Jimmie the Monk had followed the artful +Shepard to the street by the side door. They assisted the chauffeur in +picking up the bepummeled man from the sidewalk. + +"Say, Jimmie! There's somebody shadowing us. Get into that cab of +Mike's and we'll chase him!" cried Baxter. + +They rushed for the other cab, leaving Craig to mop Shepard's wan face +with a perfumed handkerchief. + +After the slight delay of cranking it the second car whizzed along the +street. But that delay was fatal to the purpose of the pursuers, for +ere they had reached the corner down which the first machine had turned +the entire block was empty. Burke's driver had made another right turn. + +Bobbie opened the door and yelled to the chauffeur as he hung to the +jamb with difficulty. + +"Drive past the restaurant again very slowly, but don't stop. Then +keep on going straight up the avenue." + +The chauffeur knew the advantage of doubling on a trail, and by the +time he had passed the restaurant after a third and fourth right +turn--making a trip completely around the block--the excitement had +died down. The pursuers had gone on a wild-goose chase in the opposite +direction, little suspecting such a simple trick. + +The taxicab rumbled nonchalantly up the avenue for five or six blocks, +while Burke worked in a vain effort to restore his fair prisoner to +consciousness. + +The car stopped in a dark stretch between blocks. + +"Where shall I go, governor?" asked the chauffeur as he jumped down and +opened the door. "Is your lady friend any better, governor?" + +Burke looked at the man's face as well as he could in the dim light, +wondering if he could be trusted. He decided that it was too big a +chance, for there is a secret fraternity among chauffeurs and the +denizens of the Tenderloin which is more powerful than any benevolent +order ever founded. This man would undoubtedly tell of his destination +to some other driver, surely to the starter at the restaurant. Then it +would be a comparatively simple matter for Baxter and Jimmie the Monk +to learn the details in enough fullness to track his own identity. For +certain reasons, already formulated, Bobbie Burke wished to keep Jimmie +and his gangsters in blissful ignorance of his own knowledge of their +activities. + +"This is my girl, and one of those fellows tried to steal her," said +Burke in a gruff voice. "I was onto the game, and that's why I had the +starter get you ready. She lives on West Seventy-first Street, near +West End Avenue. Now, you run along on the right side of the street, +and I'll point out the house." + +He was planning a second "double" on his trail. The chauffeur grunted +and started the machine again. The girl was moaning with pain in an +incoherent way. + +As they rolled slowly down West Seventy-first Street Bobbie saw a house +which showed a light in the third floor. Presumably the storm door +would not be locked, as it would have been in case the tenants were +away. He knocked on the window. + +The taxi came to a stop. + +The chauffeur opened the door and Burke sprang out. + +"Here's a ten-dollar bill, my boy," said Burke. "I'll have to square +her with her mother, so you come back here in twenty minutes and take +me down to that restaurant. I'm going to clean out that joint, and +I'll pay you another ten to help me. Are you game?" + +The chauffeur laughed wisely. + +"Am I game? Just watch me." + +Burke lifted Lorna out and turned toward the steps. + +"Now, don't leave me in the lurch. Be back in exactly twenty minutes, +and I'll be on the job--and we'll make it some job. But, don't let the +folks see you standing around, or they'll think I've been up to some +game. Her old man will start some shooting. Come back for me." + +The chauffeur chuckled as he climbed into his car and drove away, +planning a little himself. + +"Any guy that has a girl as swell as that one to live on this street +will be good for a hundred dollars before I get through with him," he +muttered as he took a chew of tobacco. "And I've got the number of +that house, too. Her old man will give a good deal to keep this out of +the papers. I know my business, even if I didn't go to college!" + +As the chauffeur disappeared around the corner, after taking a look +toward the steps up which Burke had carried his unconscious burden, the +policeman put Lorna down inside the vestibule. + +"Now, this is a dangerous game. It means disgrace if I get caught; but +it means a pair of broken hearts if this poor girl gets caught," he +thought. "I'll risk nobody coming, and run for another taxi." + +He hastened down the steps and walked around the corner, hurrying +toward a big hotel which stood not far from Broadway. Here he found +another taxicab. + +"There's a young lady sick at the house of one of my friends, and I'm +taking her home," said Burke to the driver. "Hurry up, please." + +The second automobile sped over the street to the house where Burke had +left the girl, and the officer hurried up the steps. He soon +reappeared with Lorna in his arms, walked calmly down the steps, and +put her into the car. + +This time he gave the correct home address, and the taxicab rumbled +along on the last stretch of the race. + +They passed the first car, whose driver was already planning the ways +to spend the money which he was to make by a little scientific +blackmail. + +He was destined to a long wait in front of the brownstone mansion. + +After nearly an hour he decided to take things into his own hands. + +"I'll get a little now," he muttered with an accompaniment of +profanity. "That guy can't stall me." + +After ringing the bell for several minutes a very angry caretaker came +to the door. + +"What do you want, my man?" cried this individual in unmistakable +British accents. "Dash your blooming impudence in waking me up at this +time in the morning." + +"I want to get my taxicab fare from the gent that brought the lady here +drunk!" declared the chauffeur. "Are you her father?" + +The caretaker shook a fist in his face as he snapped back: + +"I'm nobody's father. There ain't no gent nor drunk lady here. I'm +alone in this house, and my master and missus is at Palm Beach. If you +don't get away from here I'm going to call the police." + +With that he slammed the door in the face of the astounded chauffeur +and turned out the light in the hall. + +The taxi driver walked down the steps slowly. + +"Well, that's a new game on me!" he grunted. "There's a new gang +working this town as sure as I'm alive. I'm going down and put the +starter wise." + +Down he went, to face a cross-examination from the starter, and an +accounting for his time. He had to pay over seven dollars of his ten +to cover the period for which he had the car out. Jimmie the Monk and +Baxter had returned from their unsuccessful chase. As they made their +inquiries from the starter and learned the care with which the coup +d'etat had been arranged they lapsed into angry, if admiring, profanity. + +"Some guy, eh, Jimmie!" exclaimed Baxter. "But we'll find out who it +was, all right. Leave it to me!" + +"Say, dat bloke was crazy--crazy like a fox, wasn't he?" answered +Jimmie. "He let Shepard do de deal, and den he steals de kitty! Dis +is what I calls cut-throat competition!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE CLOSER BOND + +Once in the second taxicab Burke's difficulties were not at an end. + +"I want to get this poor young girl home without humiliating her or her +family, if I can," was his mental resolve. "But I can't quite plan it. +I wish I could take her to Dr. MacFarland, but his office is 'way +downtown from here." + +When the car drew up before the door of Lorna's home, from which she +had departed in such blithe spirits, Bob's heart was thumping almost +guiltily. He felt in some ridiculous way as though he were almost +responsible for her plight himself. Perhaps he had done wrong to wait +so long. Yet, even his quick eyesight had failed to discover the +knockout drops or powder which the wily Shepard had slipped into that +disastrous glass of beer. Maybe his interference would have saved her +from this unconscious stupor, indeed, he felt morally certain that it +would; but Bob knew in his heart that the clever tricksters would have +turned the tables on him effectively, and undoubtedly in the end would +have won their point by eluding him and escaping with the girl. It was +better that their operations should be thwarted in a manner which would +prevent them from knowing how sharply they were watched. Bob knew that +these men were to be looked after in the future. + +He cast aside his thoughts to substitute action. + +"Here's your number, mister," said the chauffeur, who opened the door. +"Can I help you with the lady?" + +"Thank you, no. What's the charge?" + +The driver twisted the lamp around to show the meter, and Burke paid +him a good tip over the price of the ride. + +"Shall I wait for you?" asked the driver. + +"No; that's all. I'll walk to the subway as soon as my friend gets in. +Good night." + +The chauffeur lingered a bit as Bob took the girl in his arms. The +officer understood the suggestion of his hesitation. + +"I said good night!" he spoke curtly. + +The taxi man understood this time; there was no mistaking the firmness +of the hint, and he started his machine away. + +The Bartons lived in one of the apartments of the building. The front +door was locked, and so Bob was forced reluctantly to ring the bell +beneath the name which indicated their particular letter box. + +He waited, holding the young girl in his arms. + +"Oh, I'm so sick!" he heard her say faintly, and he realized that she +was regaining consciousness. + +"If only I can get her upstairs quietly," he thought. + +He was about to swing her body around in his arms so that he could ring +once more when there was a turning of the knob. + +"Who is it?" came a frightened voice. + +It was Mary Barton at the doorway. + +"S-s-s-h!" cautioned Bob. "It's Burke. I'm bringing Miss Lorna home? +Don't make any noise." + +"Oh!" gasped the unhappy sister. "What's wrong? Is she hurt?" + +"No!" said Bob. "Fortunately not." + +"Is she-- Oh-- Is she--drunk?" + +Burke calmed her with the reassurance of his low, steady voice. + +"No, Miss Mary. She was drugged by those rascals, and I saved her in +time. Please don't cry, or make a noise. Let me take her upstairs and +help you. It's better if she does not know that I was the one to bring +her home." + +Mary tried to help him; but Bob carried the girl on into the hall. + +"Is your father awake?" + +"No; I told him two hours ago, when he asked me from his room, that +Lorna had returned and was asleep. He believed me. I had to fib to +save him from breaking his dear old daddy heart. Is she injured at +all?" + +It was plainly evident that the poor girl was holding her nerves in +leash with a tremendous effort. + +Bob kept on toward the stairs. + +"She'll be all right when you get her into her room. Give her some +smelling salts, and don't tell your father. Didn't he hear the bell?" + +"No; I've been waiting for her. I put some paper in the bell so that +it would only buzz when it rang. Let me help you, Mr. Burke. How on +earth did you----" She was eager in spite of her anxiety. + +To see the young officer returning with her sister this way was more of +a mystery than she could fathom. But, at Bob's sibilant command for +silence, she trustingly obeyed, and went up before him to guide the way +along the darkened stairway. + +At last they reached the door of their apartment. + +Mary opened it, and Bob entered, walking softly. She led the way to +her humble little bedroom, the one which she and Lorna shared. Bob +laid the sister upon the bed, and beckoned Mary to follow him. Lorna +was moving now, her hands tremulous, and she was half-moaning. + +"I want my Mary. I want my Mary." + +Her sister followed Burke out into the hall, which led down the steps +to the street. + +"Now, remember, don't tell her about being drugged. A man at one of +the tables put some knockout drops into a glass of water"--Bob was +softening the blow with a little honest lying--"and I rescued her just +in time. She knows nothing about it--only warn her about the company +that she was in. I have learned that they are worse than worthless. I +will attend to them in my own way, and in the line of my work, Miss +Mary. But, as you love your sister, don't ever let her go with those +men again." + +Mary's hand was outstretched toward the young man's, and he took it +gently. + +"You've done much for Lorna," she breathed softly, "and more for me!" + +There was a sweet pressure from those soft, clasping fingers which +thrilled Bob as though somehow he was burying his face in a bunch of +roses--like that first one which had tapped its soft message for +admission to his heart, back in the hospital. + +"Good night. Don't worry. It's all ended well, after all." + +Mary drew away her fingers reluctantly as he backed down one step. + +"Good night--Bob!" + +That was all. She slipped quietly inside the apartment and closed the +door noiselessly behind her. + +Bob slowly descended the steps; oddly enough, he felt as though it were +an ascension of some sort. His life seemed to be going into higher +planes, and his hopes and ambitions came fluttering into his brain like +the shower of petals from some blossom-laden tree. He felt anew the +spring of old dreams, and the surge of new ones. + +He stumbled, unsteady in his steps, his hands trembling on the railing +of the stairs, until he reached the street level. He hurried out +through the hallway and closed the door behind him. + +How he longed to retrace his steps for just one more word! That first +tender use of his name had a wealth of meaning which stirred him more +than a torrent of endearing terms. + +The keen bracing air of the early spring morning thrilled him. + +He hurried down the street toward the subway station, elated, exalted. + +"It's worth fighting every gangster in New York for a girl like her!" +he told himself. "I never realized how bitter all this was until it +struck home to me--by striking home to some one who is loved by the +girl--I love." + +The trip downtown was more tiring than he had expected. The stimulus +of his exciting evening was now wearing off, and Bob went direct to the +station house to be handy for the duty which began early in the day. +It was not yet dawn, but the rattling milk carts, the stirring of +trucks and the early stragglers of morning workers gave evidence that +the sun would soon be out upon his daily travels. + +The day passed without more excitement than usual. Bob took his turn +after a short nap in the dormitory room of the station house. During +his relief he rested up again. When he was preparing to start out +again upon patrol a letter was handed him by the captain. + +"Here, Burke, a little message from your best girl, I suppose," smiled +his superior. + +Bob took it, and as he opened it again he felt that curious thrill +which had been aroused in him by the winsome charm of Mary Barton. It +was a brief note which she had mailed that morning on her way to work. + + +"DEAR MR. BURKE--Everything was all right after all our worry. Lorna +is heartily repentant, and thinks that she had to be brought home by +one of her 'friends' (?). She has promised never to go with them +again, and, aside from a bad headache to-day, she is no worse for her +folly. Father knows nothing, and, dear soul, I feel that it is better +so. I can never thank you enough. I hope to see you soon. + + "Cordially, + "MARY." + + +Bob folded the note and tucked it into his breast pocket. The captain +had been watching him with shrewd interest, and presently he +intercepted: "Ah, now, I guessed right. Why, Bobbie Burke, you're even +blushing like a schoolgirl over her first beau." + +Burke was just a trifle resentful under the sharp look of the captain's +gray eyes; but the unmistakable friendliness of the officer's face +drove away all feeling. + +"I envy you, my boy. I am not making fun of you," said the captain, +with keen understanding. + +"Thank you, Cap," said Bob quietly. "You guessed right both times. +It's my first sweetheart." + +He buttoned his coat and started for the door. + +"You'd better step around to Doc MacFarland's on your rounds this +evening and let him look you over. It won't take but a minute, and I +don't expect him around the station. You're not on peg-post to-night, +so you can do it." + +"All right, Cap." + +Burke saluted and left the station, falling into line with the other +men who were marching out on relief. + +A half hour later he dropped into the office of the police surgeon, and +was greeted warmly by the old gentleman. + +MacFarland was smoking his pipe in comfort after the cares and worries +of a busy day. + +"Any more trouble with the gangsters, Burke?" he asked. + +Bob, after a little hesitation decided to tell him about the adventure +of the night before. + +"I want your advice, Doc, for you understand these things. Do you +suppose there's any danger of Lorna's going out with those fellows +again? You don't suppose that they were actually going to entice her +into some house, do you?" + +MacFarland stroked his gray whiskers. + +"Well, my boy, that is not what we Scotchmen would call a vera canny +thought! You speak foolishly. Why, don't you know that is organized +teamwork just as fine as they make it? Those two fellows, Baxter, I +think you said, and Craig, are typical 'cadets.' They are the pretty +boys who make the acquaintance of the girls, and open the way for +temptation, which is generally attended to by other men of stronger +caliber. This fellow Shepard is undoubtedly one of the head men of +their gang. If Jimmie the Monk is mixed up in it that is the +connecting link between these fellows and the East Side. And it's back +to the East Side that the trail nearly always leads, for over in the +East Side of New York is the feudal fastness of the politician who +tells the public to be damned, and is rewarded with a fortune for his +pains. The politician protects the gangster; the gangster protects the +procurer, and both of them vote early and often for the politician." + +Bob sighed. + +"Isn't there some way that this young girl can be warned about the +dangers she is running into? It's terrible to think of a thing like +this threatening any girl of good family, or any other family for that +matter." + +"You must simply warn her sister and have her watch the younger girl +like a hawk." + +MacFarland cleaned out his pipe with a scalpel knife, and put in +another charge of tobacco. + +He puffed a blue cloud before Bob had replied. + +"I wish there were some way I could get co-operation on this. I'm +going to hunt these fellows down, Doc. But it seems to me that the +authorities in this city should help along." + +"They are helping along. The District Attorney has sent up gangster +after gangster; but it's like a quicksand, Burke--new rascals seem to +slide in as fast as you shovel out the old ones." + +"I have the advantage now that they don't know who is looking after +Lorna," said Bobbie. "But it was a hard job getting them off my track." + +"That was good detective work--as good as I've heard of," said the +doctor. "You just keep shy now. Don't get into more gun fights and +fist scraps for a few days, and you'll get something on them again. +You know your catching them last night was just part of a general law +about crime. The criminal always gives himself away in some little, +careless manner that hardly looks worth while worrying about. Those +two fellows never dreamed of your following them--they let the name of +the restaurant slip out, and probably forgot about it the next minute. +And Jimmie the Monk has given you a clue to work on, to find out the +connection. Keep up your work--but keep a bullet-proof skin for a +while." + +Bob started toward the door. A new idea came to him. + +"Doctor, I've just thought of something. I saw a picture in the paper +to-night of a big philanthropist named Trubus, or something like that, +who is fighting Raines Law Hotels, improper novels, bad moving pictures +and improving morals in general. How do you think it would do to give +him a tip about these fellows? He asks for more money from the public +to carry on their work. They had a big banquet in his honor last +night." + +MacFarland laughed, and took from his desk a letter, which he handed to +Bob with a wink. The young officer was surprised, but took the paper, +and glanced at it. + +"There, Burke, read this letter. If I get one of these a day, I get +five, all in the same tune. Isn't that enough to make a man die a +miser?" + +Officer 4434 took the letter over to the doctor's student lamp and read +with amusement: + + +"DEAR SIR--The Purity League is waging the great battle against sin. + +"You are doubtless aware that in this glorious work it is necessary for +us to defray office and other expenses. Whatever tithe of your +blessings can be donated to our Rescue Fund will be bread cast upon the +waters to return tenfold. + +"A poor widow, whose only child is a beautiful girl of seventeen, has +been taken under the care of our gentle nurses. This unfortunate +woman, a devout church attendant, has been prostrated by the wanton +conduct of her daughter, who has left the influence of home to enter +upon a life of wickedness. + +"If you will contribute one hundred dollars to the support of this +miserable old creature, we will have collected enough to pay her a +pension from the interest of the fund of ten dollars monthly. Upon +receipt of your check for this amount we will send you, express +prepaid, a framed membership certificate, richly embossed in gold, and +signed by the President, Treasurer and Chaplain-Secretary of the Purity +League. Your name will be entered upon our roster as a patron of the +organization. + +"Make all checks payable to William Trubus, President, and on +out-of-town checks kindly add clearing-house fee. + +"'Charity shall cover the multitude of sins.'"--I Peter, iv. 8. + +"Yours for the glory of the Cause, + "WILLIAM TRUBUS, + "President, The Purity League of N. Y." + + +As Officer Burke finished the letter he looked quizzically at Dr. +MacFarland. + +"How large was your check, doctor?" + +"My boy, I came from Scotland. I will give you three guesses." + +"But, doctor, I see the top of the letter-head festooned with about +twenty-five names, all of them millionaires. Why don't these men +contribute the money direct? Then they could save the postage. This +letter is printed, not typewritten. They must have sent out thousands +about this poor old woman. Surely some millionaire could give up one +monkey dinner and endow the old lady?" + +"Burke, you're young in the ways of charity. That old woman is an +endowment herself. She ought to bring enough royalties for the Purity +League to buy three new mahogany desks, hire five new investigators and +four extra stenographers." + +The old doctor's kindly face lost its geniality as he pounded on the +table with rising ire. + +"Burke, I have looked into this organized charity game. It is a +disgrace. Out of every hundred dollars given to a really worthy cause, +in answer to hundreds of thousands of letters, ninety dollars go to +office and executive expenses. When a poor man or a starving woman +finally yields to circumstances and applies to one of these +richly-endowed institutions, do you know what happens?" + +Burke shook his head. + +"The object of divine assistance enters a room, which has nice oak +benches down either side. She, and most of them are women (for men +have a chance to panhandle, and consider it more self-respecting to beg +on the streets than from a religious corporation), waits her turn, +until a dizzy blonde clerk beckons condescendingly. She advances to +the rail, and gives her name, race, color, previous condition of +servitude, her mother's great grandmother's maiden name, and a lot of +other important charitable things. She is then referred to room six +hundred and ninety. There she gives more of her autobiography. From +this room she is sent to the inspection department, and she is +investigated further. If the poor woman doesn't faint from hunger and +exhaustion she keeps up this schedule until she has walked a Marathon +around the fine white marble building devoted to charity. At last she +gets a ticket for a meal, or a sort of trading stamp by which she can +get a room for the night in a vermin-infested lodging house, upon the +additional payment of thirty cents. Now, this may seem exaggerated, +but honestly, my boy, I have given you just about the course of action +of these scientific philanthropic enterprises. They are spic and span +as the quarterdeck of a millionaire's yacht." + +MacFarland was so disgusted with the objects of his tirade that he +tried three times before he could fill his old briar pipe. + +"Doctor, why don't you air these opinions where they will count?" asked +Bobbie. "It's time to stop the graft." + +"When some newspaper is brave enough to risk the enmity of church +people, who don't know real conditions, and thus lose a few +subscribers, or when some really charitable people investigate for +themselves, it will all come out. The real truth of that quotation at +the bottom of the Purity League letter should be expressed this way: +'Charity covers a multitude of hypocrites and grafters.' And to my +mind the dirtiest, foulest, lowest grafter in the world is the man who +does it under the cloak of charity or religion. But a man who +proclaims such a belief as mine is called an atheist and a destroyer of +ideals." + +Burke looked at the old doctor admiringly. + +"If there were more men like you, Doc, there wouldn't be so much +hypocrisy, and there would be more real good done. Anyhow, I believe +I'll look up this angelic Trubus to see what he's like." + +He took up his night stick and started for the door. + +"I've spent too much time in here, even if it was at the captain's +orders. Now I'll go out and earn what the citizens think is the easy +money of a policeman. Good night." + +"Good night, my lad. Mind what I told you, and don't let those East +Side goblins get you." + +Burke had a busy night. + +He had hardly been out of the house before he heard a terrific +explosion a block away, and he ran to learn the cause. + +From crowded tenement houses came swarming an excited, terror-stricken +stream of tenants. The front of a small Italian store had been smashed +in. It was undoubtedly the work of a bomb, and already the cheap +structure of the building had caught the flames. Men and women, +children by the dozen, all screeched and howled in a Babel of half a +dozen languages as Bob, with his fellow officers, tried to calm them. + +The engines were soon at the scene, but not until Bob and others had +dashed into the burning building half a dozen times to guide the +frightened occupants to the streets. + +Mothers would remember that babies had been left inside--after they +themselves had been brought to safety. The long-suffering policemen +would rush back to get the little ones. + +The fathers of these aliens seemed to forget family ties, and even that +chivalry, supposed to be a masculine instinct, for they fought with +fist and foot to get to safety, regardless of their women and the +children. The reserves from the station had to be called out to keep +the fire lines intact, while the grimy firemen worked with might and +main to keep the blaze from spreading. After it was all over Burke +wondered whether these great hordes of aliens were of such benefit to +the country as their political compatriots avowed. He had been reading +long articles in the newspapers denouncing Senators and Representatives +who wished to restrict immigration. He had seen glowing accounts of +the value of strong workers for the development of the country's +enterprise, of the duty of Americans to open their national portal to +the down-trodden of other lands, no matter how ignorant or +poverty-stricken. + +"I believe much of this vice and crime comes from letting this rabble +into the city, where they stay, instead of going out into the country +where they can work and get fresh air and fields. They take the jobs +of honest men, who are Americans, and I see by the papers that there +are two hundred and fifty thousand men out of work and hunting jobs in +New York this spring," mused Bob. "It appears to me as if we might +look after Americans first for a while, instead of letting in more +scum. Cheap labor is all right; but when honest men have to pay higher +taxes to take care of the peasants of Europe who don't want to work, +and who do crowd our hospitals and streets, and fill our schools with +their children, and our jails and hospitals with their work and their +diseases, it's a high price for cheap labor." + +And, without knowing it, Officer 4434 echoed the sentiments of a great +many of his fellow citizens who are not catering to the votes of +foreign-born constituents or making fortunes from the prostitution of +workers' brain and brawn. + +The big steamship companies, the cheap factory proprietors and the +great merchants who sell the sweat-shop goods at high-art prices, the +manipulators of subway and road graft, the political jobbers, the +anarchistic and socialistic sycophants of class guerilla warfare are +continually arguing to the contrary. But the policemen and the firemen +of New York City can tell a different story of the value of our alien +population of more than two million! + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE PURITY LEAGUE AND ITS ANGEL + +In a few days, when an afternoon's relief allowed him the time, Officer +4434 decided to visit the renowned William Trubus. He found the +address of that patron of organized philanthropy in the telephone book +at the station house. + +It was on Fifth Avenue, not far from the windswept coast of the famous +Flatiron Building. + +Burke started up to the building shortly before one o'clock, and he +found it difficult to make his way along the sidewalks of the beautiful +avenue because of the hordes of men and girls who loitered about, +enjoying the last minutes of their luncheon hour. + +Where a few years before had been handsome and prosperous shops, with a +throng of fashionably dressed pedestrians of the city's better classes +on the sidewalks, the district had been taken over by shirtwaist and +cloak factories. The ill-fed, foul-smelling foreigners jabbered in +their native dialects, ogled the gum-chewing girls and grudgingly gave +passage-way to the young officer, who, as usual, when off duty, wore +his civilian clothes. + +"I wonder why these factories don't use the side streets instead of +spoiling the finest avenue in America?" thought Bob. "I guess it is +because the foreigners of their class spoil everything they seem to +touch. Our great granddaddies fought for Liberty, and now we have to +give it up and pay for the privilege!" + +It was with a pessimistic thought like this that he entered the big +office structure in which was located the headquarters of the Purity +League. Bob took the elevator in any but a happy frame of mind. He +was determined to find out for himself just how correct was Dr. +MacFarland's estimate of high-finance-philanthropy. + +On the fourth floor he left the car, and entered the door which bore +the name of the organization. + +A young girl, toying with the wires of a telephone switchboard, did not +bother to look up, despite his query. + +"Yes, dearie," she confided to some one at the other end of the +telephone. "We had the grandest time. He's a swell feller, all right, +and opened nothing but wine all evening. Yes, I had my charmeuse +gown--the one with the pannier, you know, and----" + +"Excuse me," interrupted Burke, "I'd like to speak to the president of +this company." + +The girl looked at him scornfully. + +"Just a minute, girlie, I'm interrupted." She turned to look at Bob +again, and with a haughty toss of her rather startling yellow curls +raised her eyebrows in a supercilious glance of interrogation. + +"What's your business?" + +"That's _my_ business. I want to see Mr. Trubus and not _you_." + +"Well, nix on the sarcasm. He's too busy to be disturbed by every book +agent and insurance peddler in town. Tell me what you want and I'll +see if it's important enough. That's what I'm paid for." + +"You tell him that a policeman from the ---- precinct wants to see him, +and tell him mighty quick!" snapped Burke with a sharp look. + +He expected a change of attitude. But the curious, shifty look in the +girl's face--almost a pallor which overspread its artificial carnadine, +was inexplicable to him at this time. He had cause to remember it +later. + +"Why, why," she half stammered, "what's the matter?" + +"You give him my message." + +The girl did not telephone as Burke had expected her to do, according +to the general custom where switchboard girls send in announcement of +callers to private offices. + +Instead she removed the headgear of the receiver and rose. She went +inside the door at her back and closed it after her. + +"Well, that's some service," thought Burke. "I wonder why she's so +active after indifference?" + +She returned before he had a chance to ruminate further. + +"You can go right in, sir," she said. + +As she sat down she watched him from the corner of her eye. Burke +could not help but wonder at the tense interest in his presence, but +dismissed the thought as he entered the room, and beheld the president +of the Purity League. + +William Trubus was seated at a broad mahogany desk, while before him +was spread a large, old-fashioned family Bible. He held in his left +hand a cracker, which he was munching daintily, as he read in an +abstracted manner from the page before him. In his right hand was a +glass containing a red liquid, which Burke at first sight supposed was +wine. He was soon to be undeceived. + +He stood a full minute while the president of the League mumbled to +himself as he perused the Sacred Writ. Bobbie was thus enabled to get +a clear view of the philanthropist's profile, and to study the great +man from a good point of vantage. + +Trubus was rotund. His cheeks were rosy evidences of good health, good +meals and freedom from anxiety as to where those good meals were to +come from. His forehead was round, and being partially bald, gave an +appearance of exaggerated intellectuality. + +His nose was that of a Roman centurion--bold, cruel as a hawk's beak, +strong-nostriled as a wolf's muzzle. His firm white teeth, as they +crunched on the cracker suggested, even stronger, the semblance to a +carnivorous animal of prey. A benevolent-looking pair of gold-rimmed +glasses sat astride that nose, but Burke noticed that, oddly enough, +Trubus did not need them for his reading, nor later when he turned to +look at the young officer. + +The plump face was adorned with the conventional "mutton-chop" whiskers +which are so generally associated in one's mental picture of bankers, +bishops and reformers. The whiskers were so resolutely black, that +Burke felt sure they must have been dyed, for Trubus' plump hands, with +their wrinkles and yellow blotches, evidenced that the philanthropist +must have passed the three-score milestone of time. + +The white gaiters, the somber black of his well-fitting broadcloth coat +of ministerial cut, the sanctified, studied manner of the man's pose +gave Burke an almost indefinable feeling that before him sat a cleverly +"made-up" actor, not a sincere, natural man of benevolent activities. + +The room was furnished elaborately; some rare Japanese ivories adorned +the desk top. A Chinese vase, close by, was filled with fresh-cut +flowers. Around the walls were handsome oil paintings. Beautiful +Oriental rugs covered the floor. There hung a tapestry from some old +French convent; yonder stood an exquisite marble statue whose value +must have been enormous. + +As Trubus raised the glass to drink the red liquid Bobbie caught the +glint of an enormous diamond ring which must have cost thousands. + +"Well, evidently his charity begins at home!" thought the young man as +he stepped toward the desk. + +Tiring of the wait he addressed the absorbed reader. + +"I beg your pardon, Mr. Trubus, but I was announced and told to come in +here to see you." + +Trubus raised his eyebrows, and slowly turned in his chair. His eyes +opened wide with surprise as he peered over the gold rims at the +newcomer. + +"Well, well, well! So you were, so you were." + +He put down his glass reluctantly. + +"You must pardon me, but I always spend my noon hour gaining +inspiration from the great Source of all inspiration. What can I do +for you? I understand that you are a policeman--am I mistaken?" + +"No, sir; I am a policeman, and I have come to you to get your aid. I +understand that you receive a great deal of money for your campaign for +purifying the city, and so I think you can help me in a certain work." + +Trubus waved the four-carat ring deprecatingly. + +"Ah, my young friend, you are in great error. I do not receive much +money. We toil very ardently for the cause, but worldly pleasures and +the selfishness of our fellow citizens interfere with our solving of +the great task. We are far behind in our receipts. How lamentably +little do we get in response to our requests for aid to charity!" + +He followed Bobbie's incredulous glance at the luxurious furnishings of +his office. + +"Yes, yes, it is indeed a wretched state of affairs. Our efforts never +cease, and although we have fourteen stenographers working constantly +on the lists of people who could aid us, with a number of devout +assistants who cover the field, our results are pitiable." + +He leaned back in his leather-covered mahogany desk chair. + +"Even I, the president of this association, give all my time to the +cause. And for what? A few hundred dollars yearly--a bare modicum. I +am compelled to eat this frugal luncheon of crackers and grape juice. +I have given practically all of my private fortune to this splendid +enterprise, and the results are discouraging. Even the furniture of +this office I have brought down from my home in order that those who +may come to discuss our movement may be surrounded by an environment of +beauty and calm. But, money, much money. Alas!" + +Just at this juncture the door opened and the telephone girl brought in +a basket full of letters, evidently just received from the mail man. + +"Here's the latest mail, Mr. Trubus. All answers to the form letters, +to judge from the return envelopes." + +Trubus frowned at her as he caught Burke's twinkling glance. + +"Doubtless they are insults to our cause, not replies to our +importunities, Miss Emerson!" he hurriedly replied. + +He looked sharply at Burke. + +"Well, sir, having finished what I consider my midday devotions, I am +very busy. What can I do for you?" + +"You can listen to what I have to say," retorted Burke; resenting the +condescending tone. "I come here to see you about some actual +conditions. I have read some of your literature, and if you are as +anxious to do some active good as you write you are, I can give you +enough to keep your entire organization busy." + +It was a very different personality which shone forth from those sharp +black eyes now, than the smug, quasi-religious man who had spoken +before. + +"I don't like your manner, young man. Tell me what you have to say, +and do it quickly." + +"Well, yours is the Purity League. I happen to have run across a gang +of procurers who drug girls, and make their livelihood off the shame of +the girls they get into their clutches. I can give you the names of +these men, their haunts, and you can apply the funds and influence of +your society in running them to earth, with my assistance and that of a +number of other policemen I know." + +Trubus rose from his chair. + +"I have heard this story many times before, my young friend. It does +not interest me." + +"What!" exclaimed Burke, "you advertise and obtain money from the +public to fight for purity and when a man comes to you with facts and +with the gameness to help you fight, you say you are not interested." + +Trubus waved his hand toward the door by which Burke had entered. + +"I have to make an address to our Board of Directors this afternoon," +he said, "and I don't care to associate my activities nor those of the +cause for which I stand with the police department. You had better +carry your information to your superiors." + +"But, I tell you I have the leads which will land a gang of organized +procurers, if you will give me any of your help. The police are trying +to do the best they can, but they have to fight district politics, +saloon men, and every sort of pull against justice. Your society isn't +afraid of losing its job, and it can't be fired by political influence. +Why don't you spend some of your money for the cause that's alive +instead of on furniture and stenographers and diamond rings!" + +The cat was out of the bag. + +Trubus brought his fist down with a bang which spilled grape juice on +his neat piles of papers. + +"Don't you dictate to me. You police are a lot of grafters, in league +with the gangsters and the politicians. My society cares for the +unfortunate and seeks to work its reforms by mentally and spiritually +uplifting the poor. We have the support of the clergy and those people +who know that the public and the poor must be brought to a spiritual +understanding. Pah! Don't come around to me with your story of +'organized traffic.' That's one of the stories originated by the +police to excuse their inefficiency!" + +Burke's eyes flamed as he stood his ground. + +"Let me tell you, Mr. Trubus, that before you and your clergy can do +any good with people's souls you've got to take more care of their +bodies. You've got to clean out some of the rotten tenement houses +which some of your big churches own. I've seen them--breeding places +for tuberculosis and drunkenness, and crime of the vilest sort. You've +got to give work to the thousands of starving men and women, who are +driven to crime, instead of spending millions on cathedrals and altars +and statues and stained glass windows, for people who come to church in +their automobiles. A lot of your churches are closed up when the +neighborhood changes and only poor people attend. They sell the +property to a saloonkeeper, or turn it into a moving-picture house and +burn people to death in the rotten old fire-trap. And if you don't +raise your hand, when I come to you fair and square, with an honest +story--if you dare to order me out of here, because you've got to gab a +lot of your charity drivel to a board of directors, instead of taking +the interest any real man would take in something that was real and +vital and eating into the very heart of New York life, I'm going to +show you up, and put you out of the charity business----so help me God!" + +Burke's right arm shot into the air, with the vow, and his fist +clenched until the knuckles stood out ridged against the bloodless +pallor of his tense skin. + +Trubus looked straight into Burke's eyes, and his own gaze dropped +before the white flame which was burning in them. + +Burke turned without a word and walked from the office. + +After he had gone Trubus rang the buzzer for his telephone girl. + +"Miss Emerson, did that policeman leave his name and station?" + +"No, sir; but I know his number. He's mighty fresh." + +"Well, I must find out who he is. He is a dangerous man." + +Trubus turned toward his mail, and with a slight tremor in his hand +which the shrewd girl noticed began to open the letters. + +Check after check fluttered to the surface of the desk, and the great +philanthropist regained his composure by degrees. When he had +collected the postage offertory, carefully indorsed them all, and +assembled the funds sent in for his great work, he slipped them into a +generously roomy wallet, and placed the latter in the pocket of his +frock coat. + +He opened a drawer in his desk, and drew forth a tan leather bank book. +Taking his silk hat from the bronze hook by the door, he closed the +desk, after slamming the Bible shut with a sacrilegious impatience, +quite out of keeping with his manner of a half hour earlier. + +"I am going to the bank, Miss Emerson. I will return in half an hour +to lead in the prayer at the opening of the directors' meeting. Kindly +inform the gentlemen when they arrive." + +He slammed the door as he left the offices. + +The telephone operator abstractedly chewed her gum as she watched his +departure. + +"I wonder now. I ain't seen his nibs so flustered since I been on this +job," she mused. "That cop must 'ave got his goat. I wonder!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE BUSY MART OF TRADE + +The hypocrisy of William Trubus and the silly fatuity of his reform +work rankled in Burke's bosom as he betook himself uptown to enjoy his +brief vacation for an afternoon with his old friend, the inventor. +Later he was to share supper when the girls came home from their work. + +John Barton was busy with his new machine, and had much to talk about. +At last, when his own enthusiasm had partially spent itself, he noticed +Burke's depression. + +"What is the trouble, my boy? You are very nervous. Has anything gone +wrong?" + +Bobbie hesitated. He wished to avoid any mention of the case in which +Lorna had so unfortunately figured. But, at last, he unfolded the +story of his interview with the alleged philanthropist, describing the +situation of the gangsters and their work in general terms. + +Barton shook his head. + +"They're nearly all alike, these reformers in mahogany chairs, Burke. +I've been too busy with machinery and workmen, whom I always tried to +help along, to take much stock in the reform game. But there's no +denying that we do need all the reforming that every good man in the +world can give us. Only, there are many ways to go about it. Even I, +without much education, and buried for years in my own particular kind +of rut, can see that." + +"The best kind of reform will be with the night stick and the bars of +Sing Sing, Mr. Barton," answered Burke. "Some day the police will work +like army men, with an army man at the head of them. It won't be +politics at all then, but they'll have the backing of a man who is on +the firing line, instead of sipping tea in a swell hotel, or swapping +yarns and other things in a political club. That day is not far +distant, either, to judge from the way people are waking things up. +But we need a little different kind of preaching and reforming now." + +Barton leaned back in his wheel chair and spoke reminiscently. + +"Last spring I spent Sunday with a well-to-do friend of mine in a +beautiful little town up in Connecticut. We went to church. It was an +old colonial edifice, quaint, clean, and outside on the green before it +were forty or fifty automobiles, for, as my friend told me with pride, +it was the richest congregation in that part of New England. + +"Inside of the church was the perfume of beautiful spring flowers which +decorated the altar and were placed in vases along the aisles. In the +congregation were happy, well-fed, healthy business men who enlivened +existence with golf, motoring, riding, good books, good music, good +plays and good dinners. Their wives were charmingly gowned. Their +children were rosy-cheeked, happy and normal. + +"The minister, a sweet, genial old chap, recited his text after the +singing of two or three beautiful hymns. It was that quotation from +the Bible: 'Look at the lilies of the field. They toil not, neither do +they spin.' In full, melodious tones he addressed his congregation, +confident in his own faith of a delightful hereafter, and still better +blessed with the knowledge that his monthly check was not subject to +the rise and fall of the stock market! + +"In his sermon he spoke of the beauties of life, the freshness of +spring, its message of eternal happiness for those who had earned the +golden reward of the Hereafter. He preached optimism, the subject of +the unceasing care and love of the Father above; he told of the +spiritual joy which comes only with a profound faith in the Almighty, +who observes even of the fall of the sparrow. + +"Through the window came the soft breezes of the spring morning, the +perfume of buds on the trees and the twitter of birds. It was a sweet +relief to me after having left the dreary streets of the city and our +busy machine shop behind, to see the happiness, content, decency and +right living shining in the faces of the people about me. The charm of +the spring was in the message of the preacher, although it was in his +case more like the golden light of a sunset, for he was a good old man, +who had followed his own teachings, and it was evident that he was +beloved by every one in his congregation. A man couldn't help loving +that old parson--he was so happy and honest! + +"When he completed his sermon of content, happiness and unfaltering +faith, a girl sang an old-time offertory. The services were closed +with the music of a well-trained choir. The congregation rose. The +worshippers finally went out of the church, chatting and happy with the +thought of a duty well done in their weekly worship, and, last but not +least, the certainty of a generous New England dinner at home. The +church services were ended. Later in the afternoon would be a short +song service of vespers and in the evening a simple and sincere meeting +of sweet-minded, clean-souled young men and women for prayer service. +It was all very pretty. + +"As I say, Burke, it was something that soothed me like beautiful music +after the rotten, miserable, wretched conditions I had seen in the +city. It does a fellow good once in a while to get away from the grip +of the tenements, the shades of the skyscrapers, the roar of the +factories, and the shuffling, tired footsteps of the crowds, the smell +of the sweat-shops. + +"But, do you know, it seemed to me that that minister missed something; +that he was _too contented_. There was a message that man _could_ have +given which I think might perhaps have disagreed with the digestions of +his congregation. Undoubtedly, it would have influenced the hand that +wrote the check the following month. + +"I wondered to myself why, at least, he could not have spoken to his +flock in words something like this, accompanied by a preliminary pound +on his pulpit to awaken his congregation from dreams of golf, roast +chicken and new gowns: + +"'You business men who sit here so happy and so contented with +honorable wives, with sturdy children in whose veins run the blood of a +dozen generations of decent living, do you realize that there are any +other conditions in life but yours? Do you know that Henry Brown, Joe +Smith and Richard Black, who work as clerks for you down in your New +York office, do not have this church, do not have these spring flowers +and the Sunday dinners you will have when you go back home? Does it +occur to you that these young men on their slender salaries may be +supporting more people back home than you are? Do you know that many +of them have no club to go to except the corner saloon or the pool +room? Do you know that the only exercise a lot of your poor clerks, +assistants and factory workers get is standing around on the street +corners, that the only drama and comedy they ever see is in a dirty, +stinking, germ-infected, dismal little movie theater in the slums; that +the only music they ever hear is in the back room of a Raines Law hotel +or from a worn-out hurdy-gurdy? + +"'Why don't you men take a little more interest in the young fellows +who work for you or in some of the old ones with dismal pasts and worse +futures? Why don't you well-dressed women take an interest in the +stenographers and shop girls, the garment-makers--_not_ to condescend +and offer them tracts and abstracts of the Scriptures--but to improve +the moral conditions under which they work, the sanitary conditions, +and to arrange decent places for them to amuse themselves after hours. + +"'Surely you can spare a little time from the Golf Clubs and University +Clubs and Literary Clubs and Bridge Clubs and Tango Parties. Let me +tell you that if you do not, during the next five or ten years, the +people of these classes will imbibe still more to the detriment of our +race, the anarchy and money lust which is being preached to them daily, +nightly and almost hourly by the socialists, the anarchists and the +atheists, who are all soured on life because they've never _had_ it! + +"'The tide of social unrest is sweeping across to us from the Old World +which will engulf our civilization unless it is stopped by the jetties +of social assistance and the breakwaters of increased moral education. +You can't do this with Sunday-school papers and texts! You can't stem +the movement in your clubs by denouncing the demagogues over highball +glasses and teacups. + +"'It is all right to have faith in the good. It is well to have hope +for the future. Charity is essential to right living and right +helping. But out of the five million people in New York City, four +million and a half have never seen any evidence of Divine assistance +such as our Good Book says is given to the sparrow. They are not +lilies of the field. They must toil or die. You people are to them +the lilies of the field! Your fine gowns, your happy lives, your +endless opportunities for amusement; your extravagances are to them as +the matador's flag to the bull in the Spanish ring. Unless you _do_ +take the interest, unless you _do_ fight to stem the movement of these +dwarfed and bitter leaders, unless you _do_ overcome their arguments +based on much solid-rock truth by definite personal work, by definite +constructive education, your civilization, my civilization and the +civilization of all the centuries will fall before socialism and +anarchy.' + +"But _that_ was not what he said. I have never heard the minister of a +rich congregation say that yet. Have you, Burke?" + +"No, the minister who talked like that would have to look for a new +pulpit, or get a job as a carpenter, like the Minister long ago, who +made the rich men angry. But I had no idea that you thought about such +things, Mr. Barton. You'd make a pretty good minister yourself." + +The old inventor laughed as he patted the young man on the back. + +"Burke, the trouble with most ministers, and poets, and painters, and +novelists, and law-makers, and other successful professional men who +are supposed to show us common, working people the right way to go is +that they don't get out and mix it up. They don't have to work for a +mean boss, they don't know what it is to go hungry and starved and +afraid to call your soul your own--scared by the salary envelope at the +end of the week. They don't get out and make their _souls_ sweat +_blood_. Otherwise, they'd reform the world so quickly that men like +Trubus wouldn't be able to make a living out of the charity game." + +Barton smiled jovially. + +"But here we go sermonizing. People don't want to listen to sermons +all the time." + +"Well, we're on a serious subject, and it means our bread and butter +and our happiness in life, when you get right down to it," said Bobbie. +"I don't like sermons myself. I'd rather live in the Garden of Eden, +where they didn't need any. Wouldn't you?" + +"Yes, but my wheel chair would find it rough riding without any +clearings," said Barton. "By the way, Bob, I've some news for you. My +lawyer is coming up here to-night, to talk over some patent matters, +and you can lay your family matters before him. He'll attend to that +and you may get justice done you. If you have some money back in +Illinois, you ought to have it." + +"He can get all he wants--if he gives me some," agreed Burke, "and I'll +back your patents." + +The old man started off again on his plans, and they argued and +explained to each other as happy as two boys with some new toys, until +the sisters came home. + +Lorna was distinctly cool toward Burke, but, under a stern look from +Mary, gave the outward semblance of good grace. The fact that he had +been present in her home at the time of her disastrous escapade, even +though she believed him ignorant of it, made the girl sensitive and +aloof. + +She left Mary alone with him at the earliest pretext, and Bobbie had +interesting things to say to her: things which were nobody's business +but theirs. + +Barton's lawyer came before Burke left to report for evening duty, and +he spent considerable effort to learn the story of the uncle and the +curious will. + +Now a digression in narrative is ofttimes a dangerous parting of ways. +But on this particular day Bobbie Burke had come to a parting of the +ways unwittingly. He had left the plodding life of routine excitement +of the ordinary policeman to embark upon a journey fraught with +multifold dangers. In addition to his enemies of the underworld, he +had made a new one in an entirely different sphere. + +To follow the line of digression, had the reader gone into the same +building on Fifth Avenue which Burke had entered that afternoon, +perhaps an hour later, and had he stopped on the third floor, entered a +door marked "Mercantile Agency," he would have discovered a very busy +little market-place. The first room of the suite of offices thus +indicated was quite small. A weazened man, with thin shiny fingers, an +unnaturally pallid face, and stooped shoulders, sat at a small flat-top +desk, inside an iron grating of the kind frequently seen in cashiers' +offices. + +He watched the hall door with beady eyes, and whenever it opened to +admit a newcomer he subjected that person to keen scrutiny; then he +pushed a small button which automatically clicked a spring in the lock +of the grated door. + +This done, it was possible for the approved visitor to push past into a +larger room shut off from the first office by a heavy door which +invariably slammed, because it was pulled shut by a strong wire spring +and was intended to slam. + +The larger room opened out on a rear court, and, upon passing one of +the large dirty windows, a fire escape could be descried. Around this +room were a number of benches. Close scrutiny would have disclosed the +fact that they were old-fashioned church pews, dismantled from some +disused sanctuary. Two large tables were ranged in the center of the +room. + +The floor was extremely dirty. The few chairs were very badly worn, +and the only decorations on the walls were pasted clippings of prize +fighters and burlesque queens, cut from the pages of _The Police +Gazette_ and the sporting pages of some newspapers. + +Into this room, all through the afternoon, streamed a curious medley of +people. Tall men, small men, rough men, dapper men, and loudly dressed +women, who for the most part seemed inclined to corpulence. They +talked sometimes; many seemed well acquainted. Others appeared to be +strangers, and they glanced about them uneasily, apparently suspicious +of their fellows. + +This seemed a curious waiting room for a Fifth Avenue "Mercantile +Agency." + +But inside the room to the left, marked "private," was the explanation +of the mystery; at last there was a partial explanation of the curious +throng. + +As the occupants chatted, or kept frigid and uneasy silence, in the +outer room a fat man, smooth of face and monkish in appearance, +occasionally appeared at the private portal and admitted one person at +a time. + +After disappearing through this door, his visitors were not seen again, +for they left by another door, which automatically closed and locked +itself as they went directly into the hall corridor where the elevators +ran. + +In the private office of the "Mercantile Agency" the fat man would sit +at his desk and listen attentively to the words of his visitor. + +"Speak up, Joe. You know I'm hard of hearing--don't whisper to me," +was the tenor of a remark which he seemed to direct to every visitor. +Yet strangely enough he frequently stopped to listen to voices in the +outer room, which he appeared to recognize without difficulty. + +On this particular afternoon a dapper-dressed youth was an early caller. + +"Well, Tom, what luck on the steamer? Now, don't swallow your voice. +Remember, I got kicked in the ear by a horse before I quit bookmaking, +and I have to humor my hearing." + +"Oh, it was easy. That Swede, Jensen, came over, you know, and he had +picked out a couple of peachy Swede girls who were going to meet their +cousin at the Battery. Minnie and I went on board ship as soon as she +docked, to meet our relatives, and we had a good look at 'em while they +were lined up with the other steerage passengers. They were fine, and +we got Jensen to take 'em up to the Bronx. They're up at Molloy's +house overnight. It's better to keep 'em there, and give 'em some +food. You know, the emigrant society is apt to be on the lookout +to-day. The cousin was there when the ferry came in from the Island, +all right, but we spotted him before the boat got in, and I had Mickey +Brown pick a fight with him, just in time to get him pinched. He was +four blocks away when the boat landed, and Jensen, who had made friends +with the girls coming over, told them he would take 'em to his aunt's +house until they heard from their cousin." + +"What do they look like? We've got to have particulars, you know." + +"Well, one girl is tall, and the other rather short. They both have +yellow hair and cheeks like apples. One's name is Lena and the other +Marda--the rest of their names was too much for me. They're both about +eighteen years old, and well dressed, for Swedes." + +The fat man was busy writing down certain data on a pad arranged in a +curious metal box, which looked something like those on which grocers' +clerks make out the order lists for customers. + +"Say, Henry, what do you use that thing for? Why don't you use a +fountain pen and a book?" asked the dapper one. + +"That's my affair," snapped the fat man. "I want this for records, and +I know how to do it. Go on. What did Mrs. Molloy pay you?" + +"Well, you know she's a tight one. I had to argue with her, and I have +a lot of expense on this, anyway." + +"Go on--don't begin to beef about it. I know all about the expenses. +We paid the preliminaries. Now, out with the money from Molloy. It +was to be two hundred dollars, and you know it. Two hundred apiece is +the exact figure." + +The visitor stammered, and finally pulled out a roll of yellow-backed +bills "Well, I haven't gotten mine yet," he whined. + +"Yours is just fifty on this, for you've had a steamer assignment every +day this week. You can give your friend Minnie a ten-spot. Now, +report here to-morrow at ten, for I've a new line for you. Good day. +Shut the door." + +The fat man was accustomed to being obeyed. The other departed with a +surly manner, as though he had received the worst of a bargain. The +manager jotted down the figures on the revolving strip of paper, for +such it was, while the pencil he used was connected by two little metal +arms to the side of the mechanism. Some little wheels inside the +register clicked, as he turned the paper lever over for a clean record. +He put the money into his wallet. + +He went to the door to admit another. + +"Ah, Levy, what do you have to say?" + +"Ah, Meester Clemm, eet's a bad bizness! Nattings at all to-day. I've +been through five shoit-vaist factories, and not a girl could I get. +Too much of dis union bizness. I told dem I vas a valking delegate, +but I don't t'ink I look like a delegate. Vot's to be done?" + +The manager looked at him sternly. + +"Well, unless you get a wiggle on, you'll be back with a pushcart, +where you belong, over on East Broadway, Levy. The factories are full +of girls, and they don't make four dollars a week. Lots of pretty +ones, and you know where we can place them. One hundred dollars +apiece, if a girl is right, and that means twenty-five for you. You've +been drawing money from me for three weeks without bringing in a cent. +Now you get on the job. Try Waverley Place and come in here to-morrow. +You're a good talker in Yiddish, and you ought to be able to get some +action. Hustle out now. I can't waste time." + +The manager jotted down another memorandum, and again his machine +clicked, as he turned the lever. + +A portly woman, adorned in willow plumes, sealskin cloak and wearing +large rhinestones in her rings and necklace, now entered at the +manager's signal. + +"Well, Madame Blanche, what have you to report?" + +"I swear I ain't had no luck, Mr. Clemm. Some one's put the gipsy +curse on me. Twice this afternoon in the park I've seen two pretty +girls, and each time I got chased by a cop. I got warned. I think +they're gettin' wise up there around Forty-second Street and Sixth +Avenue." + +"Well, how about that order we had from New Orleans? That hasn't been +paid yet. You know it was placed through you. You got your commish +out of it, and this establishment always wants cash. No money orders, +either. Spot cash. We don't monkey with the United States mail. +There's too many city bulls looking around for us now to get Uncle +Sam's men on the job." + +The portly person under the willow plume, with a tearful face, began to +wipe her eyes with a lace kerchief from which, emanated the odor of +Jockey Club. + +"Oh, Mr. Clemm, you are certainly the hardest man we ever had to do +business with. I just can't pay now for that, with my high rents, and +gettin' shook down in the precinct and all." + +"Can it, Madame Blanche. I'm a business man. They're not doing any +shaking down just now in your precinct. I know all about the police +situation up there, for they've got a straight inspector. Now, I want +that four hundred right now. We sent you just what was ordered and if +I don't get the money right now you get blacklisted. Shell out!" + +The manager's tone was hard as nails. + +"Oh, Mr. Clemm ... well, excuse me. I must step behind your desk to +get it, but you ain't treatin' me right, just the same, to force it +this way." + +Madame Blanche, with becoming modesty, stepped out of view in order to +draw forth from their silken resting place four new one hundred dollar +bills. She laid them gingerly and regretfully on the desk, where they +were quickly snatched up by the business-like Clemm. + +"Maybe I'll have a little order for next week, if you can give better +terms, Mr. Clemm," began the lady, but the manager waved her aside. + +"Nix, Madame. Get out. I'm busy. You know the terms, and I advise +you not to try any more of this hold-out game. You're a week late now, +and the next time you try it you'll be sorry. Hurry. I've got a lot +of people to see." + +She left, wiping her eyes. + +The next man to enter was somewhat mutilated. His eye was blackened +and the skin across his cheek was torn and just healing from a fresh +cut. + +"Well, well, well! What have you been up to, Barlow? A prize fight?" +snapped Clemm. + +"Aw, guv'nor, quit yer kiddin'. Did ye ever hear of me bein' in a +fight? Nix. I tried to work dis needle gag over in Brooklyn an' I got +run outen de t'eayter on me neck. Dere ain't no luck. I'd better go +back to der dip ag'in." + +"You stick to orders and stay around those cheap department stores, as +you've been told to do, and you'll have no black eyes. Last month you +brought in eleven hundred dollars for me, and you got three hundred of +it yourself. What's the matter with you? You look like a panhandler? +Don't you save your money? You've got to keep decently dressed." + +"Aw, guv'nor, I guess it's easy come, easy go. Ain't dere nottin' +special ye kin send me on?" + +"Report here to-morrow at eleven. We're planning something pretty +good. Here's ten dollars. Go rig yourself up a little better and get +that eye painted out. Hustle up. I'm busy." + +The dilapidated one took the bill and rolled his good eye in gratitude. + +"Sure, guv'nor, you're white wid me. I kin always git treated right +here." + +"Don't thank me, it's business. Get out and look like a man when I see +you next. I don't want any bums working for me." + +The fat man jotted down a memorandum of his outlay on the little +machine. Then he admitted the next caller. + +"Ah, it's you, Jimmie. Well, what have you to say? You've been +working pretty well, so Shepard tells me. What about his row the other +night? I thought that girl was sure." + +"Well, Mr. Clemm, ye see, we had it fixed all right, an' some foxy gink +blows in wid a taxi an' lifts de dame right from outen Shepard's mit! +De slickest getaway I ever seen. I don't know wot 'is game is, but he +sure made some getaway, an' we never even got a smell at 'im." + +"Who was with you on the deal? Who did the come-on?" + +"Oh, pretty Baxter. You knows, w'en dat boy hands 'em de goo-goo an' +wiggles a few Tangoes he's dere wid both feet! But dis girl was back +on de job ag'in in her candy store next day. But Baxter'll git 'er +yit. Shepard's pullin' dis t'eayter manager bull, so he'll git de game +yet." + +"Did her folks get wise?" + +"Naw, not as we kin tell. Shepard he seen her once after she left de +store. De trouble is 'er sister woiks in de same place. We got ter +git dat girl fired, and den it'll be easy goin'. De goil gits home +widout de sister findin' out about it, she tells Shepard. I don't +quite pipe de dope on dis butt-in guy. But he sure spoiled Shepard's +beauty fer a week. Dere's only one t'ing I kin suspect." + +"All right, shoot it. You know I'm busy. This girl's worth the fight, +for I know who wants one just about her looks and age. What is it? +We'll work it if money will do it, for there's a lot of money in this +or I wouldn't have all you fellows on the job. I saw a picture she +gave Baxter. She's a pretty little chicken, isn't she?" + +"Shoor! Some squab. Well, Mr. Clemm, dere's a rookie cop down in de +precinct w'ere I got a couple workin', named Burke. Bobbie Burke, damn +'im! He gave me de worst beatin' up I ever got from any cop, an' I'm +on bail now for General Sessions fer assaultin' 'im." + +"What's he got to do with it?" + +"Well, dis guy was laid up in de hospital by one of me pals who put 'im +out on first wid a brick. He got stuck on a gal whose old man was in +dat hospital, and dat gal is de sister of dis yere Lorna Barton. Does +ye git me?" + +Clemm's eyes sparkled. + +"What does he look like? Brown hair, tall, very square shoulders?" he +asked. + +"Exact! He's a fresh guy wid his talk, too--one of dem ejjicated cops. +Dey tells me he was a collige boy, or in de army or somethin'." + +"Could he have known about Lorna Barton going out with Baxter that +night Shepard was beaten?" + +"My Gaud! Yes, cause Baxter he tells me Burke was dere at de house." +Clemm nodded his head. + +"Then you can take a hundred to one shot tip from me, Jimmie, that this +Burke had something to do with Shepard. He may have put one of his +friends on the job. Those cops are not such dummies as we think they +are sometimes. That fellow's a dangerous man." + +Clemm pondered for a moment. Jimmie was surprised, for the manager of +the "Mercantile Agency" was noted for his rapid-fire methods. The Monk +knew that something of great importance must be afoot to cause this +delay. + +The manager tapped the desk with his fingers, as he moved his lips, in +a silent little conversation with himself. At last he banged the desk +with vehemence. + +"Here, Jimmie. I'm going to entrust you with an important job." + +The Monk brightened and smiled hopefully. + +"How much money would it take to put Officer Bobbie Burke, if that's +his name, where the cats can't keep him awake at night?" + +Jimmie looked shiftily at the manager. + +"You mean..." + +He drew his hand significantly across his throat, raising his heavy +eyebrows in a peculiar monkey grimace which had won for him his +soubriquet. + +"Yes, to quiet his nerves. It's a shame to let these ambitious young +policemen worry too much about their work." + +"I kin git it done fer twenty-five dollars." + +"Well, here's a hundred, for I'd like to have it attended to neatly, +quietly and permanently. You understand me?" + +"Say, I'm ashamed ter take money fer dis!" laughed Jimmie the Monk. + +"Don't worry about that, my boy. Make a good job of it. It's just +business. I'm buying the service and you're selling it. Now get out, +for I've got a lot more marketing to do." + +Jimmie got. + +It was indeed a busy little market place, with many commodities for +barter and trade. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +WHEN THE TRAIN COMES IN + +Burke was sent up to Grand Central Station the following morning by +Captain Sawyer to assist one of the plain-clothes men in the +apprehension of two well-known gangsters who had been reported by +telegraph as being on their way to New York. + +"We want them down in this precinct, Burke, and you have seen these +fellows, so I want to have you keep a sharp lookout in the crowd when +the train comes in. In case of a scuffle in a crowd, it's not bad to +have a bluecoat ready, because the crowd is likely to take sides. +Anyway, there's apt to be some of this gas-house gang up there to +welcome them home. And your club will do more good than a revolver in +a railroad station. You help out if Callahan gives you the sign, +otherwise just monkey around. It won't take but a few minutes, anyway." + +Burke went up to the station with the detective. + +They watched patiently when the Chicago train came in, but there was no +sign of the desired visitors. The detective entered the gate, when all +the passengers had left, and searched the train. + +"They must have gotten off at One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street, from +what the conductor could tell me. If they did, then they'll be nabbed +up there, for Sawyer is a wise one, and had that planned," said +Callahan. "I'll just loiter around the station a while to see any +familiar faces. You can go back to your regular post, Burke." + +Bobbie bade him good-bye, and started out one of the big entrances. As +he did so he noticed a timid country girl, dressed ridiculously behind +the fashions, and wearing an old-fashioned bonnet. She carried a +rattan suitcase and two bandboxes. + +"I wonder if she's lost," thought Burke. "I'll ask her. She looks +scared enough." + +He approached the young woman, but before he reached her a well-dressed +young man accosted her. They exchanged a few words, and the fellow +evidently gave her a direction, looking at a paper which she clutched +in her nervous hand. The man walked quickly out of the building toward +the street. Unseen by Burke, he whispered something to another nattily +attired loiterer, an elderly man, who started toward the "car stop." + +As Burke rounded the big pillar of the station entrance the man again +addressed the country girl. + +"There's your car, sis," he said, with a smile. Bobbie looked at him +sharply. + +There was something evil lurking in that smooth face, and the fellow +stared impudently, with the haunting flicker of a scornful smile in his +eyes, as he met the gaze of the policeman. + +The country girl hurried toward the north-bound Madison Avenue car, +which she boarded, with several other passengers. Among them was the +gray-haired man who had received the mysterious message. + +Burke watched the car disappear, and then turned to look at the smiling +young man, who lit a cigarette, flicking the match insolently near the +policeman's face. + +"Move on, you," said Burke, and the young man shrugged his shoulders, +leisurely returning to the waiting room of the station. + +Burke was puzzled. + +"I wonder what that game was? Maybe I stopped him in time. He looks +like a cadet, I'll be bound. Well, I haven't time to stand around here +and get a reprimand for starting on a wild-goose chase." + +So Burke returned to the station house and started out on his rounds. + +Had he taken the same car as the country girl, however, he would have +understood the curious manoeuvre of the young man with the smile. + +When the girl had ridden almost to the end of the line she left the car +at a certain street. The elderly gentleman with the neat clothes and +the fatherly gray hair did so at the same time. She walked uncertainly +down one street, while he followed, without appearing to do so, on the +opposite side. He saw her looking at the slip of paper, while she +struggled with her bandboxes. He casually crossed over to the same +side of the thoroughfare. + +"Can I direct you, young lady?" he politely asked. + +He was such a kind-looking old gentleman that the girl's confidence was +easily won. + +"Yes, sir. I'm looking for the Young Women's Christian Association. I +thought it was down town, but a gentleman in the depot said it was on +that street where I got off. I don't see it at all. They're all +private houses, around here. You know, I've never been in New York +City before, and I'm kinder green." + +"Well, well, I wouldn't have known it," said her benefactor. "The +Y.W.C.A. is down this street, just in the next block. You'll see the +sign on the door, in big white letters. I've often passed it on my way +to church." + +"Oh, thank you, sir," and the country girl started on her quest once +more, with a firmer grip on the suitcase and the bandboxes. + +Sure enough, on the next block was a brownstone building--more or less +dilapidated in appearance, it is true--just as he had prophesied. + +There were the big white letters painted on a sign by the door. The +girl went up the steps, rang the bell, and was admitted by a tousled, +smirking negress. + +"Is this here the Y.W.C.A.?" she asked nervously. + +"Yassim!" replied the darkie. "Come right in, ma'am, and rest yoh +bundles." + +The girl stepped inside the door, which closed with a click that almost +startled her. She backed to the door and put her hand on the knob. It +did not turn! + +"Are you _sure_ this is the Y.W.C.A.?" she insisted. "I thought it was +a great big building." + +"Oh, yas, lady; dis is it. Yoh all don't know how nice dis buildin' is +ontel you go through it. Gimme yoh things." + +The negress snatched the suitcase from the girl's hand and whisked one +of the bandboxes from the other. + +"Here, you let go of that grip. I got all my clothes in there, and I +don't think I'm in the right place." + +As she spoke a plump lady, wearing rhinestone rings and a necklace of +the same precious tokens, whom the reader might have recognized as no +other than the tearful Madame Blanche, stepped from the parlor. + +"Oh, my dear little girl. I'm so glad you came. We were expecting +you. I am the president of the Y.W.C.A., you know. Just go right +upstairs with Sallie, she'll show you to your room." + +"Expecting me? How could you be? I didn't send word I was coming. I +just got the address from our minister, and I lost part of it." + +"That's all right, dearie. Just follow Sallie; you see she is taking +your clothes up to your room. I'll be right up there, and see that you +are all comfortable." + +The bewildered girl followed the only instinct which asserted +itself--that was to follow all her earthly belongings and get +possession of them again. She walked into the trap and sprang up the +stairs, two steps at a time, to overtake the negress. + +Madame Blanche watched her lithe grace and strength as she sped upwards +with the approving eye of a connoisseur. + +"Fine! She's a beauty--healthy as they make 'em, and her cheeks are +redder than mine, and mine cost money--by the box. Oh, here comes Pop." + +She turned as the door was opened from the outside. It was a door +which required the key from the inside, on certain occasions, and it +was still arranged for the easy ingress of a visitor. + +"Well, Blanche, what do you think?" inquired the benevolent old +gentleman who had been such an opportune guide to the girl from +up-State. + +"Pop, she's a dandy. Percy can certainly pick 'em on the fly, can't +he?" + +"Well, don't I deserve a little credit?" asked the old gentleman, his +vanity touched. + +"Yes, you're our best little Seeing-Noo-Yorker. But say, Pop, Percy +just telephoned me in time. We had to paint out that old sign, "help +wanted," and put on 'Y.W.C.A.' Sallie is a great sign painter. We'll +have trouble with this girl. She's a husky. But won't Clemm roll his +eyes when he sees her?" + +"Naw, he don't regard any of 'em more than a butcher does a new piece +of beef. He's a regular business man, that's all. No pride in his +art, nor nothing like that," sighed Pop. "But that girl made a hit +with me, old as I am. She's a peach." + +"Well, she won't look so rosy when Shepard shows her that she's got to +mind. He's a rough one, he is. It gets on my nerves sometimes. They +yell so, and he's got this whip stuff down too strong. You know I +think he's act'ally crazy about beatin' them girls, and makin' them +agree to go wherever we send 'em. He takes too much fun out of it, and +when he welts 'em up it lowers the value. He'll be up this afternoon. +We must have him ease it up a bit." + +"Oh, well, he's young, ye know," said Pop. "Boys will be boys, and +some of 'em's rough once in a while. I was a boy myself once." And he +pulled his white mustache vigorously as he smiled at himself in the +large hall mirror. + +"You'd better be off down to the station again, Pop," said Madame +Blanche. "They're going to send over two Swedish girls from Molloy's +in the Bronx this afternoon, and then put 'em on through to St. Paul. +I've got a friend out there who wants 'em to visit her. Then Baxter +telephoned me that he had a little surprise for me, later to-day. He's +been quiet lately, and it's about time, or he'll have to get a job in +the chorus again to pay his manicure bills." + +Pop took his departure, and, as Sallie came down the stairs with a +smile of duty done, Madame Blanche could hear muffled screams from +above. + +"Where is she, Sallie?" + +"She's in de receibin' room, Madame. Jes' let 'er yowl. It'll do her +good. I done' tol' er to save her breaf, but she is extravagant. Wait +ontil Marse Shepard swings dat whip. She'll have sompen to sing about!" + +And Sallie went about her duties--to put out the empty beer bottles for +the brewery man and to give the prize Pomeranian poodle his morning +bath. + +Madame Blanche retired to her cosy parlor, where, beneath the staring +eyes of her late husband's crayon portrait, and amused by the squawking +of her parrot, she could forget the cares of her profession in the +latest popular problem novel. + +On the floor above a miserable, weeping country lassie was beating her +hands against the thick door of the windowless dark room until they +were bruised and bleeding. + +She sank to her knees, praying for help, as she had been taught to do +in her simple life back in the country town. + +But her prayers seemed to avail her naught, and she finally sank, +swooning, with her head against the cruel barrier. Back in the +railroad station, Percy and his kind-faced assistant, Pop, were +prospecting for another recruit. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE POISONED NEEDLE + +That afternoon Burke improved his time, during a two-hour respite, to +hunt for a birthday present for Mary. + +Manlike, he was shy of shops, so he sought one of the big department +stores on Sixth Avenue, where he instinctively felt that everything +under the sun could be bought. + +As Bobbie paused before one of the big display windows on the sidewalk +he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure. It was that instinct which +one only half realizes in a brief instant, yet which leaves a strong +reaction of memory. + +"Who was that?" he thought, and then remembered: Baxter. + +Burke followed the figure which had passed him so quickly, and found +the same dapper young man deeply engrossed in the window display of +women's walking suits. + +"What can he find so interesting in that window?" mused Burke. "I'll +just watch his tactics. I don't believe that fellow is ever any place +for any good!" + +He stood far out on the sidewalk, close to the curb. The passing +throng swept in two eddying, opposite currents between him and Baxter, +whose attention seemed strictly upon the window. + +"Well, there's his refined companion," was Burke's next impression, as +he espied the effeminate figure of Craig, strolling along the sidewalk +close to the same window. + +"Can they be pickpockets? I would guess that was too risky for them to +take a chance on." + +Neither youth spoke to the other, although they walked very close to +each other. As Burke scrutinized their actions he saw a young girl, +tastefully dressed in a black velvet suit, with a black hat, turn about +excitedly. She looked about her, as though in alarm, and her face was +distorted with pain. Baxter gave her a shifty look and followed her. +Craig had been close at her side. + +Burke drew nearer to the girl. She seemed to falter, as she walked, +and it was apparently with great effort that she neared the door of the +big department store. Baxter was watching her stealthily now. + +"Oh!" she exclaimed desperately and keeled backward. Baxter's +calculations were close, for he caught her in his arms. + +"Quick! Quick!" he cried to the big uniformed carriage attendant at +the door. "Get me a taxicab. My sister has fainted." + +The man whistled for a machine, as Burke watched them. The officer was +calculating his own chances on what baseball players call a "double +play." Craig was close behind Baxter, in the curious crowd. Burke +guessed that it would take at least a minute or two for Baxter to get +the girl into a machine. So he rushed for Craig and surprised that +young gentleman with a vicious grasp of the throat. + +"Help! Police!" cried Craig, as some women screamed. His wish was +doubly answered, for Burke's police whistle was in his mouth and he +blew it shrilly. A traffic squad man rushed across from the middle of +the street. + +"Hurry, I want to get my sister away!" ordered Baxter excitedly to the +door man. "You big boob, what's the matter with you?" + +The crowd of people about him shut off the view of Burke's activities +fifteen feet away. Baxter was nervous and was doing his best to make a +quick exit with his victim. + +"What's this?" gruffly exclaimed the big traffic policeman, as he +caught Craig's arm. + +"The needle!" grunted Burke. "Here, I've got it from his pocket." + +He drew forth a small hypodermic needle syringe from Craig's coat +pocket, and held it up. + +"It's a frame-up!" squealed Craig. + +"Take him quick. I want to save the girl!" exclaimed Burke, as he +rushed toward Baxter. + +That young man was just pushing the girl into the taxicab when a +middle-aged woman rushed out from the store entrance. + +"That's my daughter Helen! Helen, my child!" + +At this there was terrific confusion in the crowd, and Burke saw Baxter +give the girl a rough shove away from the taxicab door. He slipped a +bill into the chauffeur's willing hand and muttered an order. The car +sprang forward on the instant. + +"I'll get that fellow this time!" muttered Burke. "He hasn't seen me, +and I'll trail him." + +He turned about and espied a big gray racing car drawn up at the curb. +A young man weighted down under a heavy load of goggles, fur and other +racing appurtenances sat in the car. Its engines were humming merrily. + +"Say, you, follow that car for me," sung out Officer 4434, delighted at +his discovery. "The taxicab with the black body." + +The driver of the racer snorted contemptuously. + +"Do you know who _I_ am?" + +Burke wasted no time, but jumped into the seat, for it was as opportune +as though placed there by Providence. Perhaps Providence has more to +do with some coincidences than the worldly wise are prone to confess. + +"_I'm_ Officer 4434 of the Police Department, and you mind my orders." + +"Well, I'm Reggie Van Nostrand," answered the young man, "and I take +orders from no man." + +Burke knew this young millionaire by reputation. But he was nowise +daunted. He kept his eye on the distant taxicab, which had luckily +been halted at the second cross street by the delayed traffic. + +"I'm going to put this pretty car of yours in the scrap heap, and I'm +going to land you in jail, with all your money," calmly replied Burke, +drawing his revolver. "The man in that taxi is a white slaver who just +tried the poison needle on a girl, and you and I are going to capture +him." + +The undeniable sporting blood surged in the veins of Reggie Van +Nostrand, be it said to his credit. It was not the threat. + +"I'm with you, Officer!" He pressed a little lever with his foot and +the big racing machine sprang forward like a thing possessed by a demon +of speed. + +The traffic officer on the other street tried to stop the car, until he +saw the uniform of the policeman in the seat. + +Bob waved his hand, and the fixed post man held back several machines, +in order to give him the right of way. + +They were now within a block of the other car. + +"Say, haven't you another robe or coat that I can put on to cover my +uniform, for that fellow will suspect a chase, anyway?" + +"Yes, there at your feet," replied Van Nostrand shortly. "It's my +father's. He'll be wondering who stole me and the car. Let him +wonder." + +Burke pulled up the big fur coat and drew it around his shoulders as +the car rumbled forward. He found a pair of goggles in a pocket of the +coat. + +"I don't need a hat with these to mask me," he exclaimed. "Now, watch +out on your side of the car, and I'll do it on mine, for he's a sly +one, and will turn down a side street." + +They did well to keep a lookout, for suddenly the pursued taxi turned +sharply to the right. + +After it they went--not too close, but near enough to keep track of its +manoeuvres. + +"He's going up town now!" said Reggie Van Nostrand, when the car had +diverged from the congested district to an open avenue which ran north +and south. The machine turned and sped along merrily toward Harlem. + +"We're willing," said Burke. "I want to track him to his headquarters." + +Block after block they followed the taxicab. Sometimes they nosed +along, at Burke's suggestion, so far behind that it seemed as though a +quick turn to a side street would lose their quarry. But it was +evident that Baxter had a definite destination which he wished to reach +in a hurry. + +At last they saw the car stop, and then the youth ahead dismounted. + +He was paying the chauffeur as they whizzed past, apparently giving him +no heed. + +But before they had gone another block Burke deemed it safe to stop. + +He signaled Van Nostrand, who shut off the power of the miraculous car +almost as easily as he had started it. Burke nearly shot over the +windshield with the momentum. + +"Some car!" he grunted. "You make it behave better than a horse, and I +think it has more brains." + +Nothing in the world could have pleased the millionaire more than this. +He was an eager hunter himself by now. + +"Say, supposing I take off my auto coat and run down that street and +see where he goes to?" + +"Good idea. I'll wait for you in the machine, if you're not afraid of +the police department." + +"You bet I'm not. Here, I'll put on this felt hat under the seat. +They won't suspect me of being a detective, will they?" + +"Hardly," laughed Burke, as the young society man emerged from his +chrysalis of furs and goggles, immaculately dressed in a frock coat. +He drew out an English soft hat and even a cane. "You are ready for +war or peace, aren't you?" + +Van Nostrand hurried down the street and turned the corner, changing +his pace to one of an easy and debonair grace befitting the possessor +of several racing stables of horses and machines. + +He saw his man a few hundred yards down the street. Van Nostrand +watched him sharply, and saw him hesitate, look about, and then turn to +the left. He ascended the steps of a dwelling. + +By the time Van Nostrand had reached the house, to pass it with the +barest sidelong glance, the pursued had entered and closed the door. +The millionaire saw, to his surprise, a white sign over the door, +"Swedish Employment Bureau." The words were duplicated in Swedish. + +"That's a bally queer sign!" muttered Reggie. "And a still queerer +place for a crook to go. I'll double around the block." + +As he turned the corner he saw an old-fashioned cab stop in front of +the house. Two men assisted a woman to alight, unsteadily, and helped +her up the steps. + +"Well, she must be starving to death, and in need of employment," +commented the rich young man. "I think the policeman has brought me to +a queer hole. I'll go tell him about it." + +The fashionable set who dwell on the east side of Central Park would +have spilled their tea and cocktails about this time had they seen the +elegant Reggie Van Nostrand breaking all speed records as he dashed +down the next street, with his cane in one hand and his hat in the +other. He reached the car, breathless, but his tango athletics had +stood him in good stead. + +"What's up?" asked Burke, jumping from the seat. + +"Why, that's a Swedish employment agency, and I saw two men lead a +woman up the steps from a cab just now. What shall we do?" + +"You run your machine to the nearest drug store and find out where the +nearest police station is. Then get a few cops in your machine, and +come to that house, for you'll find me there," ordered Burke. "How far +down the block?" + +"Nearly to the next corner," answered Reggie, who leaped into his +racing seat and started away like the wind. + +Burke hurried down, following the path of the other, until he came to +the house. He looked at the sign, and then glanced about him. He saw +an automobile approaching, and intuitively stepped around the steps of +the house next door, into the basement entry. + +He had hardly concealed himself when the machine stopped in front of +the other dwelling. + +A big Swede, still carrying his emigrant bundle, descended from the +machine, and called out cheerily in his native language to the +occupants within the vehicle. Burke, peeping cautiously, saw two buxom +Swedish lassies, still in their national costumes, step down to the +street. The machine turned and passed on down the street. + +Burke saw the man point out the sign of the employment agency, and the +girls chattered gaily, cheered up with hopes of work, as he led them up +the steps. + +The door closed behind them. + +Burke quietly walked around the front of the house and up the steps +after them. He had made no noise as he ascended, and as he stood by +the wall of the vestibule he fancied he detected a bitter cry, muffled +to an extent by the heavy walls. + +He examined the sign, and saw that it was suspended by a small wire +loop from a nail in the door jamb. + +Bobbie reached upward, took the sign off its hook, and turned it about. + +"Well, just as I thought!" he exclaimed. + +On the reverse side were the tell-tale letters, "Y.W.C.A." + +"They are ready for all kinds of customers. I wonder how they'll like +me!" was the humorous thought which flitted through his mind as he +quietly turned the knob. It opened readily. + +Bobbie stood inside the hallway, face to face with the redoubtable Pop! + +Pop's eyes protruded as they beheld this horrid vision of a bluecoat. +A cynical smile played about Burke's pursed lips as he held the sign up +toward the old reprobate. + +"Can I get a job here? Is there any work for me to do in this +employment agency?" he drawled quietly. + +Pop acted upon the instinct which was the result of many years' +dealings with minions of the law. He had been a contributor to the +"cause" back in the days of Boss Tweed. He temporarily forgot that +times had changed. + +"That's all right, pal," he said, with a sickly smile, "just a little +token for the wife and kids." + +He handed out a roll of bills which he pressed against Bobbie's hands. +The policeman looked at him with a curious squint. + +"So, you think that will fix me, do you?" + +"Well, if you're a little hard up, old fellow, you know I'm a good +fellow...." + +Up the stairs there was a scuffle. + +Bobbie heard another scream. So, before Pop could utter another sound +he pushed the old man aside and rushed up, three steps at a time. The +first door he saw was locked--behind it Bobbie knew a woman was being +mistreated. + +He rushed the door and gave it a kick with his stout service boots. + +A chair was standing in the hall. He snatched this up and began +smashing at the door, directing vigorous blows at the lock. The first +leg broke off. Then the second. The third was smashed, but the fourth +one did the trick. The door swung open, and as it did so a water +pitcher, thrown with precision and skill, grazed his forehead. Only a +quick dodge saved him from another skull wound. + +Burke sprang into the room. + +There were three men in it, while Madame Blanche, the proprietress of +the miserable establishment, stood in the middle transfixed with fear. +She still held in her hand the black snake whip with which she had been +"taming" one of the sobbing Swedish girls. The Swede held one of his +country-women in a rough grip. + +The country girl, who had been hitherto locked in the closet, was down +on her knees, her bruised hands outstretched toward Burke. + +"Oh, save me!" she cried. + +The last of the victims, who was evidently unconscious from a drug, was +lying on the floor in a pathetic little heap. + +Baxter was cowering behind the bed. + +The barred windows, placed there to prevent the escape of the +unfortunate girl prisoners, were their Nemesis, for they were at the +mercy of the lone policeman. + +"Drop that gun!" snapped Burke, as he saw the Swede reaching stealthily +toward a pocket. + +His own, a blue-steeled weapon, was swinging from side to side as he +covered them. + +"Hands up, every one, and march down these stairs before me!" he +ordered. Just then he heard a footstep behind him. Old Pop was +creeping up the steps with Madame Blanche's carving knife, snatched +hastily from the dining-room table. + +Burke, cat-like, caught a side glance of this assailant, and he swung +completely around, kicking Pop below the chin. That worthy tumbled +down the stairs with a howl of pain. + +"Now, I'm going to shoot to kill. Every court in the state will +sustain a policeman who shoots a white-slaver. Don't forget that!" +cried Burke sharply. "You girls let them go first." + +[Illustration: "I'm going to shoot to kill. Every court in the state +will sustain a policeman who shoots a white-slaver."] + +Down the steps went the motley crew, backing slowly at Burke's order. +The girls, sobbing hysterically with joy at their rescue, almost +impeded the bluecoat's defense as they clung to his arms. + +It was a curious procession which met the eyes of Reggie Van Nostrand +and half a dozen reserves who had just run up the steps. + +"Well, I say old chap, isn't this jolly?" cried Reggie. "This beats +any show I ever saw! Why, it's a regular Broadway play!" + +"You bet it is, and you helped me well. The papers ought to give you a +good spread to-morrow, Mr. Van Nostrand," answered Bobbie grimly, as he +shook the young millionaire's hand with warmth. The gang were rapidly +being handcuffed by the reserves. + +Bobbie turned toward Baxter. It was a great moment of triumph for him. +"Well, Baxter, so I got you at last! You're the pretty boy who takes +young girls out to turkey trots! Now, you can join a dancing class up +the Hudson, and learn the new lock-step glide!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE REVENGE OF JIMMIE THE MONK + +At the uptown station house Burke and his fellow officers had more than +a few difficulties to surmount. The two Swedish girls were hysterical +with fright, and stolid as the people of northern Europe generally are, +under the stress of their experience the young women were almost +uncontrollable. It was not until some gentle matrons from the Swedish +Emigrant Society had come to comfort them in the familiar tongue that +they became normal enough to tell their names and the address of the +unfortunate cousin. This man was eventually located and he led his +kinswomen off happy and hopeful once more. + +Sallie, the negress, was remanded for trial, in company with her +sobbing mistress, who realized that she was facing the certainty of a +term of years in the Federal prison. + +Uncle Sam and his legal assistants are not kind to "captains of +industry" in this particular branch of interstate commerce. + +"We have the goods on them," said the Federal detective who had been +summoned at once to go over the evidence to be found in the carefully +guarded house of Madame Blanche. "This place, to judge from the +records has been run along two lines. For one thing, it is what we +term a 'house of call.' Madame Blanche has a regular card index of at +least two hundred girls." + +"Then, that gives a pretty good list for you to get after, doesn't it?" +said Burke, who was joining in the conference between the detective, +the captain of the precinct, and the inspector of the police district. + +"Well, the list won't do much good. About all you can actually prove +is that these girls are bad ones. There's a description of each girl, +her age, her height, her complexion and the color of her hair. It's +horribly business like," replied the detective. "But I'm used to this. +We don't often get such a complete one for our records. This list +alone is no proof against the girls--even if it does give the list +price of their shame, like the tag on a department store article. This +woman has been keeping what you might call an employment agency by +telephone. When a certain type of girl is wanted, with a certain +price--and that's the mark of her swellness, as you might call +it--Madame Blanche is called up. The girl is sent to the address +given, and she, too, is given her orders over the telephone; so you see +nothing goes on in this house which would make it strictly within the +law as a house of ill repute." + +"But, do you think there is much of this particular kind of trade?" +queried Bobbie. "I've heard a lot of this sort of thing. But I put +down a great deal of it to the talk of men who haven't anything else +much to discuss." + +"There certainly is a lot of it. When the police cleaned up the old +districts along Twenty-ninth Street and Thirtieth and threw the regular +houses out of the business, the call system grew up. These girls, many +of them, live in quiet boarding houses and hotels where they keep up a +strict appearance of decency--and yet they are living the worst kind of +immoral lives, because they follow this trade scientifically." + +Reggie Van Nostrand, by reason of his gallant assistance, and at his +urgent request, had been allowed to listen. + +"By George, gentlemen, I have a lot of money that I don't know what to +do with. I wish there was some way I could help in getting this sort +of thing stopped. Here's my life--I've been a silly spender of a lot +of money my great grandfather made because he bought a farm and never +sold it--right in the heart of what is now the busy section of town. I +can't think of anything very bad that I've done, and still less any +good that will amount to anything after I die. I'm going to spend some +of what I don't need toward helping the work of cleaning out this evil." + +The inspector grunted. + +"Well, young man, if you spend it toward letting people know just how +bad conditions are, and not covering the truth up or not trying to +reform humanity by concealing the ugly things, you may do a lot. But +don't be a _reformer_." + +"What can be done with this woman Blanche?" asked Van Nostrand meekly. + +"She'll be put where she won't have to worry about telephone calls and +card indexes. Every one of these girls should be locked up, and given +a good strong hint to get a job. It won't do much good. But, we've +got this much of their records, and will be able to drive some of them +out of the trade. When every big city keeps on driving them out, and +the smaller cities do the same, they'll find that it's easier to give +up silk dresses forever and get other work than to starve to death. +But you can't get every city in the country doing this until the men +and women of influence, the mothers and fathers are so worked up over +the rottenness of it all that they want to house-clean their own +surroundings." + +"One thing that should be done in New York and other towns is to put +the name of the owner of every building on a little tablet by the door. +If that was done here in New York," said the inspector, "you'd be +surprised to see how much real estate would be sold by church vestries, +charitable organizations, bankers, old families, and other people who +get big profits from the high rent that a questionable tenant is +willing to pay." + +"Madame Blanche, and these poor specimens of manhood with her are +guilty of trafficking in girls for sale in different states. These +Swedes were to be sent to Minnesota, and her records show that she has +been supplying the Crib, in New Orleans, and what's left of the Barbary +Coast in Chicago. Why, she has sent six girls to the Beverly Club in +Chicago during the last month." + +"Where does she get them all?" asked Burke. "I've been trailing some +of these gangsters, but they certainly can't supply them all, like +this." + +The detective shook his head, and spoke slowly. + +"There are about three big clearing houses of vice in New York, and +they are run by men of genius, wealth and enormous power. I'm going to +run them down yet. You've helped on this, Officer Burke. If you can +do more and get at the men higher up--there's not a mention of their +location in all of Blanche's accounts, not a single check book--then, +you will get a big reward from the Department of Justice. For Uncle +Sam is not sleeping with the enemy inside his fortifications." + +Burke's eyes snapped with the fighting spirit. + +"I've been doing my best with them since I got on the force, and I hope +to do more if they don't finish me first. A little Italian fruit man +down in my precinct sent word to me to-day that they were 'after me.' +So, maybe I will not have a chance." + +Van Nostrand interrupted at this point. + +"Well, Officer 4434, you can have the backing of all the money you need +as far as I am concerned. You'll have to come down to my offices some +day soon, and we'll work out a plan of getting after these people. Can +I do anything more, inspector?" + +The official shook his head. + +"There's a poor young woman here who is half drugged, and doesn't know +who she is," he began. + +"Well, send her to some good private hospital and have her taken care +of and send the bill to me," said Reggie. "I've got to be getting +downtown. Goodbye, Officer Burke, don't forget me." + +"Goodbye--you've been a fine chauffeur and a better detective," said +the young policeman, "even if you are a millionaire." And the two +young men laughed with an unusual cordiality as they shook hands. +Despite the difference in their stations it was the similarity of red +blood in them both which melted away the barriers, and later developed +an unconventional and permanent friendship between them. + +Burke talked with Henrietta Bailey, the country girl, who sat +dejectedly in the station house. She had no plans for the future, +having come to the big city to look for a position, trusting in the +help of the famous Y.W.C.A. organization, of whose good deeds and +protection she had heard so much, even in the little town up state. + +"I'll call them up, down at their main offices," said Bobbie, "but it's +a big society and they have all they can do. Wouldn't you like to meet +a nice sweet girl who will take a personal interest in you, and go down +there with you herself?" + +Henrietta tried to hold back the tears. + +"Oh, land sakes," she began, stammering, "I ... do ... want to just +blubber on somebody's shoulder. I'm skeered of all these New York +folks, and I'm so lonesome, Mr. Constable." + +"We'll just cure that, then," answered Burke. "I'll introduce you to +the very finest girl in the world, and she'll show you that hearts beat +as warmly in a big city as they do in a village of two hundred people." + +Bobbie lost no time in telephoning Mary Barton, who was just on the +point of leaving Monnarde's candy store. + +She came directly uptown to meet the country girl and take her to the +modest apartment for the night. + +Bobbie devoted the interim to making his report on the unusual +circumstances of his one-man raid ... and dodging the police reporters +who were on the scene like hawks as soon as the news had leaked out. + +Despite his declaration that the credit should go to the precinct in +which the arrests had been made half a dozen photographers, with their +black artillery-like cameras had snapped views of the house, and some +grotesque portraits of the young officer. Other camera men, with +newspaper celerity, had captured the aristocratic features of Reggie +Van Nostrand and his racing car, as he sat in it before his Fifth +Avenue club. It was such a story that city editors gloated over, and +it was to give the embarrassed policeman more trouble than it was worth. + +Bobbie's telephone report to Captain Sawyer, explaining his absence +from the downtown station house was greeted with commendation. + +"That's all right, Burke, go as far as you like. A few more cases like +that and you'll be on the honor list for the Police Parade Day. Clean +it up as soon as you can," retorted his superior. + +When Mary took charge of Henrietta Bailey, the hapless girl felt as +though life were again worth living. After a good cry in the matron's +room, she was bundled up, her rattan suitcase and the weather-beaten +band boxes were carried over to the Barton home. + +"I don't know whether you had better say anything about this Baxter to +Lorna or not," said Bobbie, as he stood outside the house, to start on +his way downtown. "It's a horrible affair, and her escape from the +man's clutches was a close one." + +"She's cured now, however," stoutly declared Mary. "I have no fears +for Lorna." + +"Then do as you think best. I'll see you to-morrow afternoon, there at +the store, and you can take supper downtown with me if you would like. +If there is any way I can help about this girl let me know." + +They separated, and Mary took her guest upstairs. + +Her father was greatly excited for he had just put the finishing +touches on his dictagraph-recorder. His mind was so over-wrought with +his work that Mary thought it better not to tell him of the exciting +afternoon until later. She simply introduced Henrietta as a friend +from the country who was going to spend the night. Lorna was courteous +enough to the newcomer, but seemed abstracted and dreamy. She +neglected the little household duties, making the burden harder for +Mary. Henrietta's rustic training, however, asserted itself, and she +gladly took a hand in the preparation of the evening meal. + +"I've a novel I want to finish reading, Mary," said her sister, "and if +you don't mind I'm going to do it. You and Miss Bailey don't need me. +I'll go into our room until supper is ready." + +"What is it, dear? It must be very interesting," replied Mary, a shade +of uneasiness coming over her. "You are not usually so literary after +the hard work at the store all day." + +Lorna laughed. + +"It's time I improved my mind, then. A friend gave it to me--it's the +story of a chorus girl who married a rich club man, by Robin Chalmers, +and oh, Mary! It's simply the most exciting thing you ever read. The +stage does give a girl chances that she never gets working in a store, +doesn't it?" + +"There are several kinds of chances, Lorna," answered the older girl +slowly. "There are many girls who beautify their own lives by their +success on the stage, but you know, there are a great many more who +find in that life a terrible current to fight against. While they may +make large salaries, as measured against what you and I earn, they must +rehearse sometimes for months without salary at all. If the show is +successful they are in luck for a while, and their pictures are in +every paper. They spend their salary money to buy prettier clothes and +to live in beautiful surroundings, and they gauge their expenditures +upon what they are earning from week to week. But girls I have known +tell me that is the great trouble. For when the play loses its +popularity, or fails, they have accustomed themselves to extravagant +tastes, and they must rehearse for another show, without money coming +in." + +"Oh, but a clever girl can pick out a good opportunity." + +"No, she can't. She is dependent upon the judgment of the managers, +and if you watch and see that two of every three shows put on right in +New York never last a month out, you'll see that the managers' judgment +is not so very keen. Even the best season of a play hardly lasts +thirty weeks--a little over half a year, and so you must divide a +girl's salary in two to find what she makes in a year's time. You and +I, in the candy store, are making more money than a girl who gets three +times the money a week on the stage, for we have a whole year of work, +and we don't have to go to manicures and modistes and hairdressers two +or three times a week." + +"Well, I wish we did!" retorted Lorna petulantly. "There's no romance +in you, Mary. You're just humdrum and old-fashioned and narrow. Think +of the beautiful costumes, and the lights, the music, the applause of +thousands! Oh, it must be wonderful to thrill an audience, and have +hundreds of men worshiping you, and all that, Mary." + +Her sister's eyes filled with tears as she turned away. + +"Go on with your book, Lorna," she murmured. "Maybe some day you'll +read one which will teach you that old fashions are not so bad, that +there's romance in home and that the true, decent love of one man is a +million times better than the applause, and the flowers, and the +flattery of hundreds. I've read such books." + +"Hum!" sniffed Lorna, "I don't doubt it. Written by old maids who +could never attract a man, nor look pretty themselves. Well, none of +the girls I know bother with such books: there are too many lively ones +written nowadays. Call me when supper is ready, for I'm hungry." + +And she adjusted her curls before flouncing into the bedroom to lose +herself in the adventures of the patchouli heroine. + +It was a quiet evening at the Barton home. The father was too +engrossed to give more than abstracted heed, even to the appetizing +meal. Mary forbore to interrupt his thoughts about the new machine. +She felt a hesitation about narrating the afternoon's adventures of +Bobbie Burke to Lorna, for the girl seemed estranged and eager only for +the false romance of her novel. With Henrietta, Mary discussed the +opportunities for work in the great city, already overcrowded with +struggling girls. So convincing was she, the country lass decided that +she would take the train next morning back to the little town where she +could be safe from the excitement and the dangers of the city lure. + +"I reckon I'm a scared country mouse," she declared. "But I'm old +enough to know a warning when I get one. The Lord didn't intend me to +be a city girl, or he wouldn't have given me this lesson to-day. I've +got my old grand dad up home, and there's Joe Mills, who is foreman in +the furniture factory. I think I'd better get back and help Joe spend +his eighteen a week in the little Clemmons house the way he wanted me +to do." + +"You couldn't do a better thing in the world," said Mary, patting her +hand gently as they sat in the cosy little kitchen. "Your little town +would be a finer place to bring up little Joes and little Henriettas +than this big city, wouldn't it? And I don't believe the right Joe +ever comes but once in a girl's life. There aren't many fellows who +are willing to share eighteen a week with a girl in New York." + +Mary's guest blushed happily as the light of a new determination shone +in her eyes. She opened a locket which she wore on a chain around her +neck. + +"I always thought Joe was nice, and all that--but I read these here +stories about the city fellers, and I seen the pictures in the +magazines, and thought Joe was a rube. But he ain't, is he?" + +She held up the little picture, as she opened the locket, for Mary's +scrutiny. The honest, smiling face, the square jaw, the clear eyes of +Joe looked forth as though in greeting of an old friend. + +"You can't get back to Joe any too quickly," advised Mary, and +Henrietta wiped her eyes. She had received a homeopathic cure of the +city madness in one brief treatment! + +It was not a quiet evening for Officer 4434. + +When he emerged from the Subway at Fourteenth Street a newsboy +approached him with a bundle of papers. + +"Uxtry! Uxtry!" shouted the youngster. "Read all about de cop and de +millionaire dat captured de white slavers!" + +The lad shoved a paper at Bobbie, who tossed him a nickel and hurried +on, quizzically glancing at the flaring headlines which featured the +name of Reggie Van Nostrand and his own. The quickly made +illustrations, showing his picture, the machine of the young clubman, +and the house of slavery were startling. The traditional arrow +indicated "where the battle was fought," and Burke laughed as he +studied the sensational report. + +"Well, I look more like a gangster, according to this picture, than +Jimmie the Monk! Those news photographers don't flatter a fellow very +much." + +At the station house he was warmly greeted by his brother officers. It +was embarrassing, to put it mildly; Burke had no desire for a pedestal. + +"Oh, quit it, boys," he protested. "You fellows do more than this +every day of your lives. I'm only a rookie and I know it. I don't +want this sort of thing and wish those fool reporters had minded their +own business." + +"That's all right, Bobbie," said Doctor MacFarland, who had dropped in +on his routine call, "you'd better mind your own p's and q's, for you +will be a marked man in this neighborhood. It's none too savory at +best. You know how these gunmen hate any policeman, and now they've +got your photograph and your number they won't lose a minute to use +that knowledge. Keep your eyes on all points of the compass when you +go out to-night." + +"I'll try not to go napping, Doc," answered Burke gratefully. "You're +a good friend of mine, and I appreciate your advice. But I don't +expect any more trouble than usual." + +After his patrol duty Burke was scheduled for a period on fixed post. +It was the same location as that on which he had made the acquaintance +of Jimmie the Monk and Dutch Annie several months before. As a +coincidence, it began to storm, just as it had on that memorable +evening, except that instead of the blighting snow blizzards, furious +sheets of rain swept the dirty streets, and sent pedestrians under the +dripping shelter of vestibules and awnings. + +Burke, without the protection of a raincoat, walked back and forth in +the small compass of space allowed the peg-post watcher, beating his +arms together to warm himself against the sickening chill of his +dripping clothes. + +As he waited he saw a man come out of the corner saloon. + +It was no other than Shultberger, the proprietor of the cafe and its +cabaret annex. The man wore a raincoat, and a hat pulled down over his +eyes. He came to the middle of the crossing and closely scrutinized +the young policeman. + +"Is dot you, Burke?" he asked gruffly. + +"Yes, what do you want of me?" + +"Veil, I joost vanted to know dat a good man vos on post to-night, for +I expect troubles mit dese gun-men. Dey don't like me, und I t'ought +I'd find out who vos here." + +This struck 4434 as curious. He knew that Shultberger was the guardian +angel of the neighborhood toughs in time of storm and trouble. Yet he +was anxious to do his duty. + +"What's the trouble? Are they starting anything?" + +The saloon man shook his head as he started back to his cafe. + +"Oh, no. But ve all know vot a fighter you vos to-day. De papers is +full mit it. Dey've got purty picture of you, too. I joost vos +skeered dot dey might pick on me because I vos always running a orderly +place, und because I'm de frend of de police. I'll call you if I need +you." + +He disappeared in the doorway. + +Burke watched him, thinking hard. Perhaps they were planning some +deviltry, but he could not divine the purpose of it. At any rate he +was armed with his night stick and his trusty revolver. He had a clear +space in which to protect himself, and he was not frightened by ghosts. +So, alert though he was, his mind was not uneasy. + +He turned casually, on his heels, to look up the Avenue. He was +startled to see two stocky figures within five feet of him. That quick +right-about had saved him from an attack, although he did not realize +it. The approach of the men had been absolutely noiseless. + +The rain beat down in his face, and the men hesitated an instant, as +though interrupted in some plan. It did not occur to Burke that they +had approached him with a purpose. + +He looked at them sharply, by force of habit. Their evil faces showed +pallid and grewsome in the flickering light of the arc-lamp on the +corner by Shultberger's place. + +The two men glared at him shrewdly, and then passed on by without a +word. They walked half way down the block, and Burke, watching them +from the corner of his eye, saw them cross the street and turn into the +rear entrance of Shultberger's cabaret restaurant. + +"Well, he's having some high-class callers to-night," mused Burke. +"Perhaps he'll need a little help after all." + +Even as he thought this he heard a crash of broken glass, and he turned +abruptly toward the direction of the sound. + +The arc-light had gone out. + +Burke walked across the street and fumbled with his feet, feeling the +broken glass which had showered down near the base of the pole. + +"I wonder what happened to that lamp? They don't burst of their own +accord like this generally." + +He walked back to his position. The street was now very dark, because +the nearest burning arc-lamp was half a block to the south. As Burke +pondered on the situation he heard footsteps to his left. He turned +about and a familiar voice greeted him. It was Patrolman Maguire. + +"Well, Burke, your sins should sure be washed away in this deluge! I +thought that I'd step up a minute and give you a chance to go get some +dry clothes and a raincoat. You've another hour on the peg before I +relieve you, but hustle down to the station house and rig yourself up, +me lad." + +It was a welcome cheery voice from the dismal night shades. But Burke +objected to the suggestion. + +"No, Maguire, I'll stick it out. I think there's trouble brewing, and +it's only sixty more minutes. You keep on your patrol. We both might +get a call-down for changing." + +"Well, begorra, if there's any call-down for a little humanity, I don't +give a rap. You go get some dry clothes. I know Cap. Sawyer won't +mind. You can be back here in five minutes. You've done enough to-day +to deserve a little consideration, me boy. Hustle now!" + +Burke was chilled to the marrow and his teeth chattered, even though it +was a Spring rain, and not the icy blasts of the earlier post nights. + +"Well, keep a sharp lookout for this crowd around Shultberger's, Mack!" + +He yielded, and turned toward the station house with a quick stride. +He had hardly gone half a block before Maguire had reason to remember +the warning. A cry of distress came from the vestibule of +Shultberger's front entrance. The lights of the saloon had been +suddenly extinguished. + +"Sure, and that's some monkey business," thought Maguire, as he ran +toward the doorway. + +He pounded on the pavement with his night stick, and the resonant sound +stopped Burke's retreat to the station. Officer 4434 wheeled about and +ran for the post he had just left. + +Maguire had barely reached the doorway of the saloon when a revolver +shot rang out, and the red tongue licked his face. + +"Now we got 'im!" cried a voice. + +"Kill the rookie!" + +"That's Burke, all right!" + +Maguire felt a stinging sensation in his shoulder, and his nightstick +dropped with a thud to the sidewalk. Three figures pounded upon him, +and again the revolver spoke. This time there was no fault in the aim. +A gallant Irish soul passed to its final goal as the weapon barked for +the third time. + +Burke's heart was in his mouth; it was no personal fear, but for the +beloved comrade whom he felt sure had stepped into the fate intended +for himself. He drew his revolver as he ran, and swung his stick from +its leathern handle thong resoundingly on the sidewalk as he raced +toward the direction of the scuffle. + +A short figure darted out from a doorway as he approached the corner +and deftly stuck a foot forward, tripping the policeman. + +"Beat it, fellers!" called this adept, whose voice Burke recognized as +that of Jimmie the Monk. It was a clever campaign which the gangsters +had laid out, but their mistake in picking the man cost them dearly. + +As he called, the Monk darted down the street for a quick escape, +feeling confident that his enemy was lying dead in the doorway on the +corner. Burke forgot the orders of the Mayor against the use of +fire-arms; his mind inadvertently swung into the fighting mood of the +old days in the Philippines, when native devils were dealt justice as +befitted their own methods. + +He had fallen heavily on the wet pavement, and slid. But, at the +recognition of that evil voice, he rolled over, and half lying on the +pavement he leveled his revolver at the fleeting figure of the gang +leader. + +Bang! One shot did the work, and Jimmie the Monk crumpled forward, +with a leg which was never again to lead in another Bowery "spiel" or +club prize fight. + +"He's fixed," thought Burke, and he sprang up, to run forward to the +vestibule of Shultberger's. There he found the body of Maguire +sprawled out, with the blood of the Irish kings mingling with the +rainwater on the East Side street. + +One man was hiding in the doorway's shelter. Another was scuttling +down the street, to run full into the arms of an approaching roundsman. + +As Burke stooped over the form of his comrade a black-jack struck his +shoulder. He sprang upward, partially numbed from the blow, but +summoning all his strength he caught the gangster by the arm and +shoulder and flung him bodily through the glass door which smashed with +a clatter. + +Burke kicked at the door as he fought with the murderer, and his weight +forced it open. + +A whisky bottle whizzed through the air from behind the bar. +Shultberger was in the battle. Burke's night stick ended the struggle +with his one assailant, and he ran for the long bar, which he vaulted, +as the saloon-keeper dodged backward. Another revolver shot +reverberated as the proprietor retreated. But, at this rough and +tumble fight, Burke used the greatest fighting projectile of the +policeman; he threw the loaded night stick with unerring aim, striking +Shultberger full in the face. The man screamed as he fell backward. + +Half a dozen policemen had surrounded the saloon by this time, and +Burke fumbled around until he found the electric light switch near the +cash register. He threw a flood of light on the scene of destruction. + +Shultberger, pulling himself up to his knees, his face and mouth gory +from the catapult's stroke, moaned with agony as he clawed blindly. +Patrolman White was tugging at the gangster who had been knocked +unconscious by Burke's club. Outside two of the uniformed men were +reverently lifting the corpse of Terence Maguire, who was on his +Eternal Fixed Post. + +"Have ... have you sent ... for an ambulance?" cried Bobbie. + +"Yes, Burke," said the sergeant, who had examined the dead man. "But +it's too late. Poor Mack, poor old Mack!" + +A patrol wagon was clanging its gong as the driver spurred the horses +on. Captain Sawyer dismounted from the seat by the driver. The bad +news had traveled rapidly. Suddenly Burke, remembering the fleeing +Jimmie, dashed from the saloon, and forced his way through the swarming +crowd which had been drawn from the neighboring tenements by the +excitement. + +"Is the boy crazy?" asked Sawyer. "Hurry, White, and notify the +Coroner, for I don't intend to allow Terence Maguire to lie in this +rotten den very long." + +Burke ran along the wet street, looking vainly for the wounded +gang-leader. Jimmie was not in sight! Burke went the entire length of +the block, and then slowly retraced his steps. + +He scrutinized every hallway and cellar entrance. + +At last his vigilance was rewarded. Down the steps, beneath a +half-opened bulkhead door, he found his quarry. + +The Monk was moaning with pain from a shattered leg-bone. + +Burke clambered down and tried to lift the wounded man. + +"Get up here!" he commanded. + +"Oh, dey didn't get ye, after all!" cried Jimmie, recognizing his +voice. He sank his teeth in the hand which was stretched forth to help +him. Burke swung his left hand, still numb from the black-jack blow on +his shoulder, and caught the ruffian's nose and forehead. A vigorous +pull drew the fellow's teeth loose with a jerk. + +"Well, you dog!" grunted the policeman, as he dragged the gangster to +the street level. "You'll have iron bars to bite before many hours, +and then the electric chair!" + +Jimmie's nerve went back on him. + +"Oh, Gaud! Dey can't do dat! I didn't do it. I wasn't dere!" + +Burke said nothing, but holding the man down to the pavement with a +knee on his back, he whistled for the patrol wagon. + +The prisoners were soon arraigned, Shultberger, Jimmie the Monk and the +first gangster were sent to the hospital shortly after under guard. +The second runner, who had been caught by White, was searched, and by +comparison of the weapons and the empty chambers of each one the police +deduced that it was he who had fired the shots which killed Maguire. +The entire band, including the saloon-keeper, were equally guilty +before the law, and their trial and sentencing to pay the penalty were +assured. + +But back in the station house, late that night, the thought of +punishment brought little consolation to a heart-broken corps of +policemen. + +Big, husky men sobbed like women. Death on duty was no stranger in +their lives; but the loss of rollicking, generous Maguire was a bitter +shock just the same. + +And next morning, as Burke read the papers, after a wretched, sleepless +night, he saw the customary fifteen line article, headed: "ANOTHER +POLICEMAN MURDERED BY GANGSTERS." Five million fellow New Yorkers +doubtless saw the brief story as well, and passed it by to read the +baseball gossip, the divorce news, or the stock quotations--without a +fleeting thought of regret. + +It was just the same old story, you know. + +Had it been the story of a political boss's beer-party to the bums of +his ward; had it been an account of Mrs. Van Astorbilt's elopement with +a plumber; had it been the life-story of a shooting show girl; had it +been the description of the latest style in slit skirts; had it been a +sarcastic message from some drunken, over-rated city official; had it +been a sympathy-squad description of the hardships and soul-beauties of +a millionaire murderer it would have met with close attention. + +But what is so stale as the oft-told, ever-old yarn of a policeman's +death? + +"What do we pay them for?" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +LORNA'S QUEST FOR PLEASURE + +In the same morning papers Burke saw lengthy notices of the engagement +of Miss Sylvia Trubus, only child of William Trubus, the famous +philanthropist, to Ralph Gresham, the millionaire manufacturer of +electrical machinery. + +"There, that should interest Mr. Barton. His ex-employer is marrying +into a very good family, to put it mildly, and Trubus will have a very +rich son-in-law! I wonder if she'll be as happy as I intend to make +Mary when she says the word?" + +He cut one of the articles out of the paper, putting it into his pocket +to show Mary that evening. He had a wearing and sorrowful day; his +testimony was important for the arraignment of the dozen or more +criminals who had been rounded up through his efforts during the +preceding twenty-four hours. The gloom of Maguire's death held him in +its pall throughout the day in court. + +He hurried uptown to meet Mary as she left the big confectionery store +at closing time. + +Mary had been busy and worried through the day. At noon she had gone +to the station to bid goodbye to Henrietta Bailey, who was now well on +her way to the old town and Joe. + +As the working day drew to a close Mary was kept busy filling a large +order for a kindly faced society woman and her pretty daughter. + +"You have waited on me several times before," she told Mary, "and you +have such good taste. I want the very cutest bon-bons and favors, and +they must be delivered up on Riverside Drive to our house in time for +dinner. You know my daughter's engagement was announced in the papers +to-day, while we had intended to let it be a surprise at a big dinner +party to-night. Well, the dear girl is very happy, and I want this +dinner to give her one of the sweetest memories of her life." + +Mary entered into the spirit with zest, and being a clever saleswoman, +she collected a wonderful assortment of dainty novelties and +confections, while the manager of the store rubbed his hands together +gleefully as he observed the correspondingly wonderful size of the bill. + +"There, that should help the jollity along," said Mary. "I hope I have +pleased you. I envy your daughter, not for the candies and the dinner, +but for having such a mother. My mother has been dead for years." + +The tears welled into her eyes, and the customer smiled tenderly at her. + +"You are a dear girl, and if ever I have the chance to help you I will; +don't forget it. I am so happy myself; perhaps selfishly so. But my +life has been along such even lines, such a wonderful husband, and such +a daughter. I am so proud of her. She is marrying a young man who is +very rich, yet with a strong character, and he will make her very happy +I am sure. Well, dear, I will give you my address, for I wish you +would see personally that these goodies are delivered to us without +delay." + +Mary took her pad and pencil. + +"Mrs. William Trubus--Riverside Drive." + +The girl's expression was curious; she remembered Bobbie's description +of the husband. It hardly seemed possible that such a man could be +blessed with so sweet a wife and daughter--but such undeserved +blessings seem too often to be the unusual injustice of Fate in this +twisted, tangled old world, as Mary well knew. + +"All right, Mrs. Trubus; I shall follow your instructions and will go +to the delivery room myself to see that they are sent out immediately." + +"Good afternoon, my dear," and Mrs. Trubus and her happy daughter left +the store. + +Mary was as good as her word, and she made sure that the several +parcels were on their way to Riverside Drive before she returned to the +front of the store. When she did so she saw a little tableau, +unobserved by the busy clerks and customers, which made her heart stand +still. + +Lorna was standing by one of the bon-bon show cases talking to a tall +stranger who ogled her in bold fashion, and a manner which indicated +that the conversation was far from that of business. + +"Who can that be?" thought Mary. An intuition of danger crept over her +as she watched the shades of sinister suggestion on the face of the man +who whispered to her sister. + +The man was urging, Lorna half-protesting, as though refusing some +enticing offer. + +Mary stepped closer, and the deep tones of the stranger's voice filled +her with a thrill of loathing. It was a voice which she felt she could +never forget as long as she lived. + +[Illustration: The deep tones of the stranger's voice filled her with a +thrill of loathing.] + +"Come up to my office with me when you finish work and I'll book you up +this very evening. The show will open in two weeks, and I will give +you a speaking part, maybe even one song to sing. You know I'm strong +for you, little girl, and always have been. My influence counts a +lot--and you know influence is the main thing for a successful actress!" + +Mary could stand it no longer. + +She touched Lorna on the arm, and the younger girl turned around +guiltily, her eyes dropping as she saw her sister's stern questioning +look. + +"Who is this man, Lorna?" + +The stranger smiled, and threw his head back defiantly. + +"A friend of mine." + +"What does he want?" + +"That is none of your affair, Mary." + +"It is my affair. You are employed here to work, not to talk with men +nor to flirt. You had better attend to your work. And, as for you, I +shall complain to the manager if you don't get out of here at once!" + +The stranger laughed softly, but there was a brutal twitch to his jaw +as he retorted: "I'm a customer here, and I guess the manager won't +complain if I spend money. Here, little girlie, pick me out a nice box +of chocolates. The most expensive you have. I'm going to take my +sweetheart out to dinner, and I am a man who spends his money right. +I'm not a cheap policeman!" + +Mary's face paled. + +Her blood boiled, and only the breeding of generations of gentlewomen +restrained her from slapping the man's face. She watched Lorna, who +could not restrain a giggle, as she took down a be-ribboned candy box, +and began to fill it with chocolate dainties. + +"Oh, if Bobbie were only here!" thought Mary in despair. "This man is +a villain. It is he who has been filling Lorna's mind with stage talk. +I don't believe he is a theatrical man, either. They would not insult +me so!" + +The manager bustled about. + +"Closing time, girls. Get everything orderly now, and hurry up. You +know, the boss has been kicking about the waste light bills which you +girls run up in getting things straight at the end of the day." + +Mary turned to her own particular counter, and she saw the big man +leave the store, as the manager obsequiously bowed him out. + +In the wardrobe room where they kept their wraps, Mary took Lorna +aside. Her eyes were flaming orbs, as she laid a trembling hand upon +the girl's arm. + +"Lorna, you are not going to that man's office?" + +"Oh, not right away," responded her sister airily. "We are going to +Martin's first for a little dinner, and maybe a tango or two. What's +that to you, Mary? Stick to your policeman." + +Mary dropped her hand weakly. She put on her hat and street-coat, +hardly knowing what she was doing. + +"Oh, Lorna, child, you are so mistaken, so weak," she began. + +"I'm not weak, nor foolish. A girl can't live decently on the money +they pay in this place. I'm going to show how strong I am by earning a +real salary. I can get a hundred a week on the stage with my looks, +and my voice, and my ... figure...." + +In spite of her bravado she hesitated at the last word. It was a +little daring, even to her, and she was forcing a bold front to +maintain her own determination, for the girl had hesitated at the man's +pleadings until her sister's interference had piqued her into obstinacy. + +"It won't hurt to find out how much I can get, even if I don't take the +offer at all," Lorna thought. "I simply will not submit to Mary's +dictation all the time." + +Lorna hurried to the street, closely followed by her sister. + +"Don't go, dear," pleaded Mary. + +But there by the curb panted a big limousine, such as Lorna had always +pictured waiting for her at a stage door; the big man smiled as he held +open the door. Lorna hesitated an instant. Then she espied, coming +around the corner toward them, Bobbie Burke, on his way to meet Mary. + +That settled it. She ran with a laugh toward the door of the +automobile and flounced inside, while the big man followed her, +slamming the portal as the car moved on. + +"Oh, Bob," sobbed Mary, as the young officer reached her side. "Follow +them." + +"What's the matter?" + +"Look, that black automobile!" + +"Yes, yes!" + +"Lorna has gone into it with a theatrical manager. She is going on the +stage!" and Mary caught his hand tensely as she dashed after the car. + +It was a hopeless pursuit, for another machine had already come between +them. It was impossible for Burke to see the number of the car, and +then it turned around the next corner and was lost in the heavy traffic. + +"Oh, what are we to do?" exclaimed Mary in despair. + +"Well, we can go to all the theatrical offices, and make inquiries. I +have my badge under my coat, and they will answer, all right." + +They went to every big office in the whole theatrical district. But +there, too, the search was vain. Mary was too nervous and wretched to +enjoy the possibility of a dinner, and so Burke took her home. Her +father asked for Lorna, to which Mary made some weak excuse which +temporarily quieted the old gentleman. + +Promising to keep up his search in restaurants and offices, Burke +hurried on downtown again. It was useless. Throughout the night he +sought, but no trace of the girl had been found. When he finally went +up to the Barton home to learn if the young girl had returned, he found +the old man frantic with fear and worriment. + +"Burke, some ill has befallen the child," he exclaimed. "Mary has +finally told me the truth, and my heart is breaking." + +"There, sir, you must be patient. We will try our best. I can start +an investigation through police channels that will help along." + +"But father became so worried that we called up your station. The +officer at the other end of the telephone took the name, and said he +would send out a notice to all the stations to start a search." + +"Great Scott! That means publicity, Miss Mary. The papers will have +the story sure, now. There have been so many cases of girls +disappearing lately that they are just eager for another to write up." + +Mary wrung her hands, and the old man chattered on excitedly. + +"Then if it is publicity I don't care. I want my daughter, and I will +do everything in the world to get her." + +Burke calmed them as much as he could, but if ever two people were +frantic with grief it was that unhappy pair. + +[Illustration: Father and daughter were frantic with grief.] + +Bobbie hurried on downtown again, promising to keep them advised about +the situation. + +After he left Mary went to her own room, and by the side of the bed +which she and the absent one had shared so long, she knelt to ask for +stronger aid than any human being could give. + +If ever prayer came from the depths of a broken heart, it was that +forlorn plea for the lost sister! + +All through the night they waited in vain. + + * * * * * + +The first page of every New York paper carried the sensational story of +the disappearance of Lorna Barton. Not that such a happening was +unusual, but in view of the white slavery arrests and the gang fight in +which Bobbie Burke had figured so prominently; his partial connection +with the case, and those details which the fertile-minded reporters +could fill in, it was full of human interest, and "yellow" as the heart +of any editor could desire. + +Pale and heart-sick Mary went down to Monnarde's next morning. The +girls crowded about her in the wardrobe room, some to express real +sympathy, others to show their condescension to one whom they inwardly +felt was far superior in manners, appearance and ability. + +Mary thanked them, and dry-eyed went to her place behind the counter. +For reasons best known to himself, the manager was late in arriving +that morning. The minutes seemed century-long to Mary as she hoped +against hope. + +A surprisingly early customer was Mrs. Trubus, who came hurrying in +from her big automobile. She went to Mary's counter and observed the +girl's demeanor. + +"Dear, was it your sister that I read about in the paper this morning?" +she inquired. + +"Yes," very meekly. Mary tried to hold back the tears which seemed so +near the surface. + +"I am so sorry. I remembered that you once spoke of your sister when +you were waiting on me. The paper said that she worked here at +Monnarde's, and I remembered my promise of yesterday that I would do +anything for you that I could. Mr. Trubus is greatly interested in +philanthropic work, and of course what I could do would be very small +in comparison to his influence. But if there is a single thing...." + +"There's not, I'm afraid. Oh, I'm so miserable--and my poor dear old +daddy!" + +Even as she spoke the manager came bustling into the store. He had +evidently passed an uncomfortable night himself, although from an +entirely different cause. In his hand he bore the morning paper, which +he just bought outside the door from one of several newsboys who stood +there shouting about the "candy store mystery," as one paper had +headlined it. + +"See, here!" cried he, turning to Mary at once. "What do you mean by +bringing this disgrace down upon the most fashionable candy shop in New +York. You will ruin our business." + +"Oh, Mr. Fleming," began Mary brokenly, "I don't understand what you +mean. I have done nothing, sir!" + +"Nothing! _Nothing_! You and this miserable sister of yours! +Complaining to the police, are you, about men flirting with the girls +in my store? Do you think society women want to come to a shop where +the girls flirt with customers? No! I'm done right now. Get your hat +and get out of here!" + +"Why, what do you mean?" gasped the girl, her fingers contracting and +twitching nervously. + +"You're fired--bounced--ousted!" he cried. "That's what I mean." He +turned toward the other girls and in a strident voice, unmindful of the +two or three customers in the place, continued. "Let this be a lesson. +I will discharge every girl in the place if I see her flirting. The +idea!" + +And he pompously walked back to his office as important as a toad in a +lonely puddle. + +Mary turned to the counter, which she caught for support. One of the +girls ran to her, but Mrs. Trubus, standing close by, placed a motherly +arm about her waist. + +"There, you poor dear. Don't you despair. This is a large world, and +there are more places for an honest, clever girl to work in than a +candy store run by a popinjay! You get your hat and get right into my +car, and I will take you down to my husband's office, and see what we +can do there. Come right along, now, with me." + +"Oh, I must go home!" murmured Mary brokenly. + +But at the elderly woman's insistence she walked back, unsteadily, to +the wardrobe room for her hat and coat. + +"How dare you walk out the front way," raved the manager, as she was +leaving with Mrs. Trubus. + +Mary did not hear him. The tears, a blessed relief, were coursing down +her flower-white cheeks as the kindly woman steadied her arm. + +"Well! That suits me well enough," muttered Mr. Fleming +philosophically, as he retired to his private office. "I lost a lot at +poker last night--and here are two salaries for almost a full week that +won't go into anyone's pockets but my own. First, last and always, a +business man, say I." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +CHARITY AND THE MULTITUDE OF SINS + +In the outer office of William Trubus an amiable little scene was being +enacted, far different from the harrowing ones which had made up the +last twelve hours for poor Mary. + +Miss Emerson, the telephone girl, was engaged in animated repartee with +that financial genius of the "Mercantile Agency," with whose workings +the reader may have a slight familiarity, located on the floor below of +the same Fifth Avenue building. + +"Yes, dearie, during business hours I'm as hard as nails, but when I +shut up my desk I'm just as good a fellow as the next one. All work +and no play gathers no moss," remarked Mr. John Clemm. + +"You're a comical fellow, Mr. Clemm. I'd just love to go out to-night, +as you suggest. And if you've got a gent acquaintance who is like you, +I have the swellest little lady friend you ever seen. Her name is +Clarice, and she is a manicure girl at the Astor. We might have a +foursome, you know." + +"That's right, girlie," responded Clemm, as he ingratiatingly placed an +arm about her wasp-like waist. "But two's company, and four's too much +of a corporation for me." + +"Oh, Mr. Clemm--nix on this in here--Mr. Trubus is in his office, and +he'll get wise...." + +As she spoke, not Mr. Trubus, but his estimable wife interrupted the +progress of the courtship. She walked into the doorway, from the +elevator corridor, holding Mary's arm. + +As she saw the lover-like attitude of the plump Mr. Clemm, she gasped, +and then burst out in righteous indignation. + +"Why, you shameless girl, what do you mean by such actions in the +office of the Purity League? I shall tell my husband at once!" + +Miss Emerson sprang away from the amorous entanglement with Mr. Clemm +and tried to say something. She could think of nothing which befitted +the occasion; all her glib eloquence was temporarily asphyxiated. Mr. +Clemm stammered and looked about for some hole in which to conceal +himself. He, too, seemed far different from the pugnacious, +self-confident dictator who reigned supreme on the floor below. + +"William! William Trubus!" called the philanthropist's wife angrily. +Her husband heard from within, and he opened the door with a thoroughly +startled look. + +"My dear wife!" he began, purring and somewhat uncertain as to the +cause of the trouble. Mary, nervous as she was, observed a curious +interchange of glances between the two men. + +"William, I find this brazen creature standing here hugging this man, +as though your office, the Purity League's headquarters, were some +Lover's Lane! It is disgusting." + +"Well, well, my dear," stammered Trubus. "Don't be too harsh." + +"I am not harsh, but I have too much respect for you and the high +ideals for which I know you battle every hour of the day to endure such +a thing. Suppose the Bishop had come in instead of myself? Would he +consider such actions creditable to the great purpose for which the +church takes up collections twice each year throughout his diocese?" + +Trubus tilted back and forth on his toes and tapped the ends of his +plump fingers together. He was sparring for time. The girl looked at +him saucily, and the offending visitor shrugged his shoulders as he +quietly started for the door. + +"Tut, tut, my dear! I shall reprimand the girl." + +"You shall discharge her at once!" insisted Mrs. Trubus, her eyes +flashing. "She will disgrace the office and the great cause." + +Trubus was in a quandary. He looked about him. Miss Emerson, with a +confident smile, walked toward the general office on the left. + +"I should worry about this job. I'm sick of this charity stuff anyway. +I'm going to get a cinch job with a swell broker I know. He runs a lot +of bunco games, too--but he admits. Don't let the old lady worry about +me, Mr. Trubus, but don't forget that I've got two weeks' salary coming +to me. And you just raised my weekly insult to twenty-five dollars +last Saturday, you know, Mr. Trubus." + +With this Parthian shot, she slammed the door of the general +stenographers' room, and left Mr. Trubus to face his irate wife. + +"You pay that girl twenty-five dollars for attending to a telephone, +William? Why, that's more money than you earned when we had been +married ten years. Twenty-five dollars a week for a telephone girl!" + +"There, my dear, it is quite natural. She is especially tactful and +worth it," said Trubus, in embarrassment. "You are not exactly tactful +yourself, my dear, to nag me in front of an employee. As the +Scriptures say, a gentle wife...." + +Mrs. Trubus gave the philanthropist one deep look which seemed to cause +aphasia on the remainder of the Scriptural quotation. + +For the first time Trubus noticed Mary Barton, standing in embarrassed +silence by the door, wishing that she could escape from the scene. + +"Who is this young person, my dear?" + +"This is a young girl who is in deep trouble, and without a position +through no fault of her own. I brought her down to your office to have +you help her, William." + +"But, alas, our finances are so low that we have no room for any +additional office force," began Trubus. + +"There, that will do. If you pay twenty-five dollars a week to the +telephone operator no wonder the finances are low. You have just +discharged her, and I insist on your giving this young lady an +opportunity." + +Trubus reddened, and tried to object. + +But his good wife overruled him. + +"Have you ever used a switchboard, miss?" he began. + +"Yes, sir. In my last position I began on the switchboard, and worked +that way for nearly two months. I am sure I can do it." + +Trubus did not seem so optimistic. But, at his wife's silent +argument--looks more eloquent than a half hour of oratory, he nodded +grudgingly. + +"Well, you can start in. Just hang your hat over on the wall hook. +Come into my office, my dear wife." + +They entered, and Mary sat down, still in a daze. She had been so +suddenly discharged and then employed again that it seemed a dream. +Even the terrible hours of the night seemed some hideous nightmare +rather than reality. + +Miss Emerson came from the side room, attired in a street garb which +would have brought envy to many a chorus girl. + +"Oh, my dear, and so you are to follow my job. Well, I wish you joy, +sweetie. Tell Papa Trubus that I'll be back after lunch time for my +check. And keep your lamps rolling on the old gink and he'll raise +your salary once a month. He's not such a dead one if he is strong on +this charity game. Life with Trubus is just one telephone girl after +another ... ta, ta, dearie. I'm off stage." + +And she departed, leaving simple Mary decidedly mystified by her +diatribe. + +A few minutes brought another diversion. This time it was Sylvia +Trubus and Ralph Gresham, her fiance, come for a call. + +"Is my father in?" she asked, absorbed in the well groomed, selfish +young man. Mary rang the private bell and announced Miss Trubus. Her +father hurried to the door, and when he saw his prospective son-in-law +his face wreathed in smiles. + +"Ah, Mr. Gresham, Ralph, I might say, I am delighted! Come right in!" + +Mary was startled as she heard the name of the young girl's sweetheart. + +"I'm afraid that she will not be as happy as she thinks, if daddy has +told me right about Ralph Gresham. But, oh, if I could hear something +from Bobbie about Lorna. I believe I will call him up." + +She was just summoning the courage for a private call when the private +office door opened, and Gresham, Sylvia, her mother and Trubus emerged. + +"I will return in ten minutes, Miss," said Trubus. "If there are any +calls just take a record of them. Allow no one to go into my private +office." + +"Yes, sir." + +Mary waited patiently for a few moments, when suddenly a telephone bell +began to jangle inside the private office. + +"That's curious," she murmured, looking at her own key-board. "There's +no connection." Again she heard it, insistent, yet muffled. + +She walked to the door and opened it. As she did so the wind blew in +from the open casement, making a strong draught. Half a dozen papers +blew from Trubus' desk to the floor. Frightened lest her +inquisitiveness should cause trouble, Mary hurriedly stooped and picked +up the papers, carrying them back to the desk. As she leaned over it +she noticed a curious little metal box, glass-covered. Under this +glass an automatic pencil was writing by electrical connection. + +"What on earth can that be?" she wondered. The bell tinkled, in its +muffled way, once more. + +The moving pencil went on. She watched it, fascinated, even at the +risk of being caught, hardly realizing that she was doing what might be +termed a dishonorable act. + +"Paid Sawyer $250. Girl safe, but still unconscious." + +Mary's heart beat suddenly. The thought of her own sister was so +burdensome upon her own mind that the mention by this mysterious +communication of a girl, "safe but still unconscious," strung her +nerves as though with an electric shock. She leaned over the little +recording instrument, which was built on a hinged shelf that could be +cunningly swung into the desk body, and covered with a false front. As +she did so she saw a curious little instrument, shaped somewhat like +the receiver of a telephone receiver. Mary's experience with her +father's work told her what that instrument was. + +"A dictagraph!" she exclaimed. + +Instinctively she picked it up, and heard a conversation which was so +startling in its import to herself that her heart seemed to congeal for +an instant. + +"I tell you, Jack, the girl is still absolutely out of it. We can risk +shipping her anywhere the way she is now. I chloroformed her in the +auto as soon as we got away from the candy store. But that Burke +nearly had us, for I saw him coming." + +"You will have to dispose of her to-day, Shepard. Give her some strong +coffee--a good stiff needleful of cocaine will bring her around. Do +something, that's all, or you don't get a red cent of the remaining +three hundred. Now, I'm a busy man. You'll have to talk louder, too, +my hearing isn't what it used to be." + +"Say, Clemm, quit this kidding about your ears. I've tried you out and +you can hear better than I can. There's some game you're working on me +and if there is, I'll...." + +"Can the tragedy, Shepard. Save it for that famous whipping stunt of +yours. Beat this girl up a bit, and tell me where she is." + +"I'll do that in an hour, and not a minute sooner, and I've got to have +the other three hundred." + +Mary dropped the receiver. She wanted to know where that conversation +could come from. Down the side of the desk she traced a delicate wire. +Under the rug it went, and across to the window. She looked out. A +fire escape passed the window. It was open. She saw the little wire +cross through the woodwork to the outside brick construction and down +the wall. Softly she clambered down the fire-escape until she could +peer through the window on the floor below. + +There at a desk, in the private office of the "Mercantile" association, +sat the man who had been hugging her predecessor at Trubus' +switchboard, the man who had exchanged the curious looks with the +philanthropist. Talking to him was the man who had taken her sister +away from the candy store the day before! + +Hurriedly she climbed back up the fire escape into the window, out +through the door of the private office, closing it behind her. + +She telephoned Bobbie at the station house. Fortunately he was there. +She gave him her address, and before he could express his surprise +begged him to hurry to the doorway of the building and wait for her. + +He promised. + +Mary kept her nerves as quiet as she could, praying that the man Sawyer +would not leave before she could follow him with Bobbie. In a few +minutes one of the girls from the stenography room came out. Seeing +that she was the new girl the young woman spoke: "Do you want me to +relieve you while you go to lunch. I'm not going out to-day. I'm so +glad to see anyone here but that fresh Miss Emerson that it will be a +pleasure." + +"Thank you. I do want to go now," said Mary nervously. She hurriedly +donned her hat and rushed down to the street. Bobbie was waiting for +her, as he had lost not a minute. + +They waited behind the big door column for several minutes. Suddenly a +man came swinging through the portal. It was Sawyer. + +Bobbie remembered him instantly, while Mary gripped his arm until she +pinched it. + +"We'll follow him," said Burke, for the girl had already told of the +dictagraph conversation. + +Follow him they did. Up one street and down another. At last the man +led them over into Burke's own precinct. He ascended the iron steps of +an old-fashioned house which had once been a splendid mansion in +generations gone by. + +"Ah, that's where Lorna is hidden, as sure as you're standing here, +Mary. From what he said no harm has come to her yet. Hurry with me to +the station house, and we'll have the reserves go through that house in +a jiffy." + +It took not more than ten minutes for the police to surround the house. +But disappointment was their only reward. Somehow or other the rascals +had received a tip of premonition of trouble; perhaps Shepard was +suspicious of his principals, and wished to move the girl out of their +reach. + +The house was empty, except for a few pieces of furniture. + +"Look!" cried Mary, as she went through the rooms with Bob. "There is +a handkerchief. She snatched it up. It was one of her own, with the +initials "M. B." in a monogram. + +"Lorna has been here," she exclaimed. "I remember handing her that +very handkerchief when we were in the store yesterday." + +"What's to be done now?" thought Bobbie. "We had better go up to your +father and tell him what we know--it is not as bad as it might have +been." + +"Precious little comfort," sighed Mary, exhausted beyond tears. + +They reached the desolate home, and Bob broke the news to the old man. +As Mary poured forth her story of the discovery in Trubus' office, her +father's face lighted with renewed hope. + +To their surprise he laughed, softly, and then spoke: + +"Mary, my child, my long hours of study and labor on my own invention +have not been in vain. My dictagraph-recorder--this very model here, +which I have just completed shall be put to its first great test to +save my own daughter. Heaven could reward me in no more wonderful +manner than to let it help in the rescue of little Lorna--why did I not +think of it sooner?" + +"What shall we do, father?" breathlessly cried Mary. + +"Can I help, Mr. Barton?" + +"Describe the arrangement of the offices." + +Mary rapidly limned the plan of the headquarters of the Purity League. +Her father nodded and his lips moved as he repeated her words in a +whisper. + +"I have it now. You must put the instrument under the telephone +switchboard table," he directed. "Pile up a waste-basket, or something +that is handy to keep it out of view. I have already adjusted enough +fresh cylinders to record at least one hour of conversation. This +machine is run by an automatic spring, which you must wind like a +clock. Here I will wind it myself to have all in readiness." + +He rolled his chair swiftly to his work table, and turned the little +crank, continuing his plan of attack. + +"Now, take the long wire, and run it through the door of the private +office up close to the desk. Attach this disc to the dictagraph +receiver. It is so small, and the wiring so fine that it will not be +noticed if it is done correctly. Here, Burke. I will do it now to +this loose dictagraph receiver. Watch me." + +The old man worked swiftly. + +Burke scrutinized each move, and nodded in understanding. + +"Be careful to cover the wire along the floor with a rug--he must never +be allowed to see that, you know. After you have all this prepared, +Mary, you must start the mechanism going, and then get the reproduction +of the conversation as it comes on the dictagraph." + +"All right, father--but how shall we get it there without Mr. Trubus +knowing about it? He is very watchful of that room." + +Barton patted Bobbie's broad shoulder, with a confident smile. + +"I think Officer 4434 can devise a way for that. He has had harder +tasks and won out. Now, hurry down with the machine. It is a bit +heavy. You had better take it in a taxicab. You will spend all your +money on taxicabs, my boy, I am afraid." + +"Well, sir, a little money now isn't important enough to worry about if +it means happiness for the future--for us all." + +Mary's face reddened, and she dropped her eyes. There was an +understanding between the three which needed no words for explanation. +So it is that the sweetest love creeps into its final nestling place. + +"God bless you, my boy. I'm an old man and none too good, but I shall +pray for your success." + +"Good bye," said Bobbie, as he and Mary left with the mechanism. + +Bobbie stopped the taxicab which carried them half a block east of the +office building which was their goal. + +"Mary, I will take this machine up on the floor above Trubus' office, +and hide it in the hall. Then you go to your place in the office and I +will manage a way to draw Mr. Trubus out in a hurry. We will work +together after that, and spread the electric trap for him." + +Mary went direct to the office, where she found Trubus storming about +angrily. + +"What do you mean by staying nearly two hours out at luncheon time?" he +cried. "I am very busy and I want you to be here on duty regularly, +even if my wife did foolishly intercede in your behalf, young woman." + +"I am sorry--I became ill, and was delayed. I will not be late with +you again, sir." + +The president of the Purity League retired to his sanctum, slightly +mollified. Mary had not been at her post long when a messenger came in +with a telegram. + +"Mr. Trubus!" he said, shoving the envelope at her. + +She signed his book, and knocked at the door. There was a little +delay, and the worthy man opened it impatiently. "I do not want to be +interrupted, I am going over my accounts." + +She handed him the telegram, and he tore it open hastily. + +"What's this?" he muttered in excitement. Then he went back for his +silk hat, and left, slamming the door of his private office and +carefully locking it. + +"I wonder what took him out so quickly?" thought Mary. But even as she +mused Bobbie Burke came into the outer office, with the precious +machine wrapped in yellow paper. + +"What took Trubus out, Bobbie?" she asked, as she helped him arrange +the machine behind the wastebasket, near the telephone switchboard. + +"Just a telegram, signed 'Friend,' advising him to watch the men who +came in the front door, downstairs, for ten minutes, but not to visit +Clemm's office. That will keep him away, and he can't possibly guess +who did it." + +"But, look, Bob, he has locked his door with a peculiar key. If you +force it he will be able to tell." + +"I thought he might do as much, Mary. I wouldn't risk tampering with +the lock. Instead, I found an empty room on the floor above. I have a +rope, and I will take the receiver of your father's machine with the +disc, and part of the wiring which I had already cut. There is no fire +escape from the floor above for some reason. He will suspect all the +less, then, for he would not think of anyone coming through the +headquarters on the floor below. I will go down hand over hand, you +shove the wire under the door to me, and I'll attach it. Then I'll go +up the ladder, and we'll let the dictagraph do its work." + +Thus it was accomplished. Mary covered the machine and its wiring in +the outer office, although several times she had to quit at inopportune +times to answer the telephone, or make a connection. + +Burke, from the room above, climbed down hurriedly, adjusted the +instrument as he had been told to do by John Barton. Then he was out, +barely drawing himself and the rope away from the window view before +Trubus entered. + +Mary thought that it was all discovered, but breathed a sigh of relief +when the president opened the door and entered without a remark. + +It was lucky for Burke that the day was so warm, for the president had +left the window open when he left, otherwise Burke could not possibly +have carried out his plan so opportunely. + +The telephone bell rang. Mary answered and was greeted by Bob's voice. + +"Is it you, Mary?" he exclaimed hurriedly. + +"Yes." + +"Then start your machine, for I saw this man Shepard go upstairs to the +floor beneath you." + +"All right, Bob," said Mary softly. + +"When the records are run out, unless I telephone you sooner, call one +of the girls to take your place, tell her you are sick, and smuggle out +the records--don't bother about the machine, we'll get that later. I +will be downstairs waiting for you." + +"Yes. I understand." + +The time dragged horribly, but at last the hour had passed, and Mary +wrapped up the precious wax cylinders and hurried downstairs. + +Bob was pacing up and down anxiously. + +"Shepard has eluded me. I was afraid to leave you, and he took an +auto, and disappeared over toward the East Side. I have telephoned +Captain Sawyer to have a phonograph ready for us. Come, we'll get over +to the station at once. I hope your records give us the clue. If they +don't, I'm afraid the trail is lost." + +They hurried to the station house. In the private office of the +Captain they found that officer waiting with eagerness. + +"What's it all about, Bob?" he cried. "Why this phonograph?" + +"It will explain itself, Captain," answered 4434. "Let's fix these +records in the regular way, and then we will run them in order." + +They did so in absolute silence. The Captain listened, first in +bewilderment, then in great excitement. + +"Great snakes! Where did you get those? That is a conversation +between a bunch of traffickers. Listen, they are buying and selling, +making reports and laying out their work for the night." + +"Sssh!" cautioned Bob. "There's something important we want to get." + +Suddenly Mary gripped his hand. + +"That's Shepard's voice. I'd never forget it." + +They listened. The man told of the condition of Lorna, mentioning her +by name now. She had returned to consciousness, and was detained in +the room of a house not five blocks from the police station. + +"I'll break her spirit now. None of this stage talk any more, Clemm," +droned the voice in the phonograph. "When I get my whip going she'll +be glad enough to put on the silk dresses. She screamed and cried a +while ago, but I'm used to that sort of guff." + +"Don't mark her up with the whip, Shepard. That's a weakness of yours, +and makes us lose money. Go over now and get her ready for to-night. +They want a girl like her for a party up-town to-night. Get her +scared, and then slip a little cocaine,--that eases 'em up. Then some +champagne, and it will be easy." + +Mary began to sob. Burke held her hand in his firm manner. + +"Don't cry, little girl, we'll attend to her. Captain Sawyer, this is +a record of a conversation we took on a new machine in the offices of +the Purity League. It connects with the 'Mercantile' office +downstairs, which is a headquarters for the white slave business. Now +we know the address of the house where this young girl is kept. Can I +have the reserves to help me raid it?" + +"Ah, can you? Why, you will lead it my boy. Run out and order four +machines from that garage next door. We'll be there in two minutes." + +The reserves were summoned from their lounging room with such speed +that Mary was bewildered. + +"Oh, may I go along?" she begged. "I want to be the first to greet my +little sister." + +"Yes!" cried Sawyer. "All out now, boys. We'll work this on time. I +know the house. It has a big back yard, and a fire-escape in the rear. +Half you fellows follow the sergeant, and go to the front--but stay +down by the corner until exactly four-thirty. Then break into the +front door with axes. The other half--you men in that second file" +(they were lined up with military precision in the big room of the +station house)--"go with Bob Burke. I want you to go up over the roof. +Use your night sticks if there is any gun play, shoot--but not to kill, +for we want to send these men to prison." + +They started off. Mary's heart fluttered with excitement, with hope. +There was something so reassuring about the husky manhood of these +blue-coats and the nonchalance and even delight with which they faced +the dangers before them. + +"Can I go in with them?" she cried eagerly. + +"No, young lady, you stay with the sergeant, and sit in the automobile +when the men leave it. You're apt to get shot, and we want you to take +care of your sister." + +They were off on the race to save Lorna! + +Now the machines sped down the street. They separated at one +thoroughfare, and the men with Burke went down another street to +approach the house from the rear. This they did, quietly but rapidly, +through the basement of an old house whose frightened tenants feared +that they were to be arrested and lynched on the spot, to judge from +their terror. + +"Keep quiet," said Burke, "and don't look out of the windows, or we +will arrest you." + +Burke and his men peered at the building which was the object of their +attack. The fire escape came only down to the second story. + +"Well, you fellows will have to give me a boost, and I'll jump for the +lower rungs. Then toss up one more man and I'll catch his hand. We +can go up together. You watch the doors." + +At exactly four thirty they dashed across the yard, scrambled over the +fence, and like Zouaves in an exhibition drill, tossed Burke up to the +lowest iron bar of the fire escape. He failed the first time. He +tumbled back upon them. The second time was successful. Patrolman +White was given a lift and Burke helped to pull him upon the +fire-escape. + +"Up, now, White! We will be behind the other fellows in the front!" + +They lost not a second. It was an ape-like climb, but the two trained +athletes made it in surprising time. + +As they reached the top of the building a man scrambled out of the trap +which led from the skylight. + +"Grab him," yelled Burke. + +White did so. This was prisoner number one. + +Down the ladder, through the opening Burke went and found himself in a +dingy garret, at the top of a rickety stair-case. He heard screams. +He descended the steps half a floor and peering from the angle, through +the transom of a room which led from the hall, he saw a fat old woman +standing with her hands on her hips, laughing merrily, while Shepard +was swinging a whip upon the shoulders of a screaming girl. Her +clothes were half torn from her back, and the whip left a red welt each +time it struck. + +Downstairs Burke heard the crashing of breaking doors. The raid was +progressing rapidly. Burke dashed down to the floor level and flung +himself upon the locked door. The first lunge cracked the lock. The +second swung the door back on its hinges. + +He half fell into the room. + +As he did so Lorna Barton saw him and in a flash of recognition, +screamed: "Oh, save me, Mr. Burke!" + +She staggered forward, and Shepard missed his aim, striking the fat +woman who squealed with pain. + +"I've got _you_ now!" cried Burke, rushing for the ruffian with his +stick. + +"No, you haven't!" hissed Shepard, a fighting animal to the last. He +had whipped out a magazine gun from his coat pocket, and began firing +point-blank. Burke threw his stick at the man, but it went wild. + +His own revolver was out now, and he sent a bullet into the fellow's +shoulder. + +Shepard's left arm dropped limply. He dashed toward the door and +forced his way past, firing wildly at such close range that it almost +burst the gallant policeman's ear drums. + +Up the ladder he scurried like a wild animal, firing as he climbed. + +Burke was right behind him. + +Shepard ran for the fire-escape. Burke was after him. Each man was +wasting bullets. But as Shepard reached the edge of the roof Burke +took the most deliberate aim of his life, and sent a bullet into the +villain's breast. + +Shepard gasped, his hands went up, and he toppled over the cornice to +the back yard below. + +He died as he had lived, with a curse on his lip, murder in his heart, +and battling like a beast! + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE FINISH + +Burke rushed down the dilapidated steps once more to the room where +Lorna had undergone her bitter punishment. Already three bluecoats had +entered in time to capture the frantic old woman, while they worked to +bring the miserable girl back to consciousness. + +"She's coming around all right, Burke," said the sergeant. "Help me +carry her downstairs." + +"I'll do that myself," quoth Bobbie, feeling that the privilege of +restoring her to Mary had been rightfully earned. He picked her up and +tenderly lifted her from the couch where she had been placed by the +sergeant. Down the stairs they went with their prisoner, while +Patrolman White descended from the roof with his captive, whose hands +had been shackled behind his back. + +The house had the appearance of a cheap lodging place, and the dirty +carpet of the hall showed hard usage. As they reached the lower floor +Bobbie noticed Captain Sawyer rummaging through an imitation mahogany +desk in the converted parlor, a room furnished much after the fashion +of the bedroom of Madame Blanche in the house uptown. + +"What sort of place is it? A headquarters for the gang?" asked Bobbie, +as he hesitated with Lorna in his arms. + +"No, just the same kind of joint we've raided so many times, and we've +got hundreds more to raid," answered Sawyer. "I've found the receipts +for the rent here, and they've been paying about five times what it is +worth. The man who owns this house is your friend Trubus. This links +him up once more. There's a lot of information in this desk. But +hurry with the girl, Bobbie, for her sister is nearly wild." + +As Burke marched down the steps, carrying the rescued one, a big crowd +of jostling spectators raised a howl of "bravos" for the gallant +bluecoat. The nature of this evil establishment was well enough known +in the neighborhood, but people of that part of town knew well enough +to keep their information from the police, for the integrity of their +own skins. + +Mary had been kept inside the automobile with difficulty; now she +screamed with joy and sprang from the step to the street. Up the stone +stairs she rushed, throwing her arms about Lorna, who greeted her with +a wan smile; she had strength for no more evidence of recognition. + +"Here, chief," said the chauffeur of the hired car to Burke, "I always +have this handy in my machine. Give the lady a drink--it'll help her." + +He had drawn forth a brandy flask, and Burke quickly unscrewed the +cup-cap, to pour out a libation. + +"Oh, no!" moaned Lorna, objecting weakly, but Burke forced it between +her teeth. The burning liquid roused her energies and, with Mary's +assistance, she was able to sit up in the rear of the auto. + +"Take another, lady," volunteered the chauffeur. "It'll do you good." + +"Never. I've tasted the last liquor that shall ever pass my lips," +said Lorna. "Oh, Mary, what a horrible lesson I've learned!" + +Her sister comforted her, and turned toward Burke pleadingly. + +"Can I take her home, Bob? You know how anxious father is?" + +Captain Sawyer had come to the side of the automobile. He nodded. + +"Yes, Miss Barton, the chauffeur will take her right up to your house. +Give her some medical attention at once, and be ready to come back with +her to the station house as soon as I send for you. I'm going to get +the ringleader of this gang in my net before the day is through. So +your sister should be here if she is strong enough to press the first +complaint. I'll attend to the others, with the Federal Government and +those phonograph records back of me! Hurry up, now." + +He turned to his sergeant. + +"Put these prisoners in the other automobile and call out the men to +clear this mob away from the streets. Keep the house watched by one +man outside and one in the rear. We don't know what might be done to +destroy some of this evidence." + +The automobile containing the two girls started on the glad homeward +journey at the Captain's signal. Bobbie waved his hat and the happy +tears coursed down his face. + +"Well, Captain, I've got to face a serious investigation now," he said +to his superior as they went up the steps once more. + +"What is it?" exclaimed Sawyer in surprise, "You'll be a medal of honor +man, my boy." + +"I've killed a man." + +"You have! Well, tell me about your end of the raid. All this has +happened so quickly that we must get the report ready right here on the +spot, in order to have it exact." + +"This man Shepard, who seems to be the professional whipper of this +gang, as well as a procurer, fought me with a magazine revolver. I ran +him up to the roof, and I had to shoot him or be killed myself. That +means a trial, I know. You'll find his body back of the house, for he +fell off the roof at the end." + +"Self-defense and carrying out the law will cover you, my boy. Don't +worry about that. This city has been kept terror-stricken by these +gangsters long enough, because honest citizens have been compelled by a +ward politician's law to go without weapons of defense. A man is not +allowed to have a revolver in his own home without paying ten dollars a +year as a license fee. But a crook can carry an arsenal; I've always +had a sneaking opinion that there were two sides to the reasons for +that law. Then the city officials have given the public the idea that +the police were brutes, and have reprimanded us for using force with +these murderers and robbers. Force is the only thing that will tame +these beasts of the jungle. You can't do it with kisses and boxes of +candy!" + +Burke was rubbing his left forearm. + +"By Jingo! I believe I hurt myself." + +He rolled up his sleeve, and saw a furrow of red in his muscular +forearm. It was bleeding, but as he wiped it with his handkerchief he +was relieved to find that it was a mere flesh wound. + +"If Shepard had hit the right instead of the left--I would have been +left in the discard," he said, with grim humor. "Can you help me tie +it up for now. This means another scolding from Doctor MacFarland, I +suppose." + +"It means that you've more evidence of the need for putting a tiger out +of danger!" + +The coroner was called, and the statements of the policemen were made. +The Captain, with Burke and several men, deployed through the back yard +to the other house, leaving the grewsome duty of removing the body to +the coroner. The two waiting automobiles on the rear street were +crowded with policemen, as Sawyer ordered the chauffeur to drive +speedily to the headquarters of the Purity League. + +"We must clean out that hole, as we did this one!" muttered Sawyer. +"You go for Trubus, Burke, with one of the men, while I will take the +rest and close in on their 'Mercantile' office downstairs. We'll put +that slave market out of business in three minutes." + +They were soon on Fifth Avenue. The elevators carried the policemen up +to the third floor, and they sprang into the offices of the "Mercantile +Association" with little ado. + +The small, wan man who sat at the desk was just in the act of sniffing +a cheering potion of cocaine as the head of Captain Sawyer appeared +through the door. With a quick movement the lookout pressed two +buttons. One of them resulted in a metallic click in the door of the +strong iron grating. The other rang a warning bell inside the private +office of John Clemm. + +Sawyer pushed and shoved at the grilled barrier, but it was safely +locked with a strong, secret bolt. + +"Open this, or I'll shoot!" exclaimed the irate Captain. + +"You can't get in there. We're a lawful business concern," replied the +little man, squirming toward the door which led to the big waiting +room. "Where's your search warrant. I know the law, and you police +can't fool me." + +"This is my search warrant!" exclaimed Sawyer, as he sent a bullet +crashing into the wall, purposely aiming a foot above the lookout's +head. "Quick, open this door. The next shot won't miss!" + +There was a sound of overturned chairs and cries of alarm inside the +door. The little man felt that he had sounded his warning and lived up +to his duty. Had he completed that sniffing of the "koke," he would +doubtless have been stimulated to enough pseudo-courage to face the +entire Police Department single-handed--as long as the thrill of the +drug lasted. A majority of the desperate deeds performed by the +criminals in New York, so medical examinations have proved, are carried +on under the stimulus of this fearful poison, which can be obtained +with comparative ease throughout the city. + +But the lookout was deprived of his drug. He even endeavored to take a +sniff as the captain and his men shoved and shook the iron work of the +grating. + +"Drop it!" cried Sawyer, pulling the trigger again and burying another +bullet in the plaster. + +"Oh, oh! Don't shoot!" cried the lookout weakly. He trembled as he +advanced to the grating and removed the emergency bolt. + +"Grab him!" cried Sawyer to one of his men. "Come with me, fellows." +He rushed into the waiting room. There consternation reigned. Fully a +dozen pensioners of the "system" of traffic in souls were struggling to +escape through the barred windows in the rear. These bars had been +placed as they were to resist the invaders from the outside. John +Clemm's system of defense was extremely ingenious. In time of trouble +he had not deemed the inmates of the middle room worth protecting--his +purpose was to exclude with the iron grating and the barred windows the +possible entry of raiders. + +Three revolvers were on the floor. Their owners had wisely discarded +them to avoid the penalty of the concealed weapon law, for they had +realized that they were trapped. + +"Open that door!" cried Sawyer, who had learned the arrangement of the +rooms from Burke's description. + +Two men pushed at the door, which was securely locked. They finally +caught up the nearest church pew, and, using it as a battering ram, +they succeeded in smashing the heavy oaken panels. The door had been +barricaded with a cross bar. As they cautiously peered in through the +forced opening they saw the room empty and the window open. + +"He's escaped!" exclaimed Sawyer. + +Just then a call from the outer vestibule reached his ears. + +"I've caught the go-between, Captain. Here's Mr. John Clemm, the +executive genius of this establishment," sung out Burke, who was +standing inside the door with the rueful fat man wearing the handcuffs. + +"Where did you get him, Burke?" + +"He tried to make a quiet getaway through the rescue department of the +Purity League," answered Officer 4434. "I nabbed him as he came up the +fire-escape from this floor." + +"Where is Trubus?" + +"He has gone home, so one of the stenographers tells me." + +"Then we will get him, too. Hurry now. White, I leave you in charge +of this place. Send for the wagon and take these men over to our +station house. Get every bit of paper and the records. We had better +look around in that private office first before we go after Trubus." + +They finished the demolition of the door and entered. + +"What's this arrangement?" queried Sawyer, puzzled, as he looked at the +automatic pencil box. + +"That is an arrangement by which this fellow Clemm has been making +duplicates of all his transactions in his own writing," explained +Burke. "You see this Trubus has trusted no one. He has a definite +record of every deal spread out before him by the other pencil on the +machine upstairs, just as this go-between writes it out. Then here is +the dictagraph, under the desk." + +Burke pointed out the small transmitting disc to the surprised captain. + +"Well, this man learned a lot from the detectives and applied it to his +trade very scientifically, didn't he?" + +"Yes, the records we have on the phonograph show that every word which +passed in this room was received upstairs by Trubus. No one but Clemm +knew of his connection or ownership of the establishment. Yet Trubus, +all the time that he was posing as the guardian angel of virtue, has +been familiar with the work of every procurer and every purchaser; it's +a wonderful system. If he had spent as much energy on doing the +charitable work that he pretended to do, think of how much misery and +sickness he could have cured." + +"Well, Burke, it's the same game that a lot of politicians on the East +Side do. They own big interests and the gambling privileges in the +saloons, and they get their graft from the gangsters. Then about twice +a year they give a picnic for the mothers and babies of the drunkards +who patronize their saloons. They send a ticket for a bucket of coal +or a pair of shoes to the parents of young girls who work for the +gangsters and bring the profits of shame back tenfold on the investment +to these same politicians. They will spend a hundred dollars on +charity and the newspapers will run columns about it. But the poor +devils who cheer them and vote for them don't realize that every dollar +of graft comes, not out of the pockets of property owners and +employers, but from reduced wages, increased rents, and expensive, +rotten food. Trubus would have been a great Alderman or State Senator: +he wasted his talents on religion." + +Burke turned to the door. + +"Shall I go up to his house, Captain? I'd like to be in at the finish +of this whole fight." + +"You bet you can," said Sawyer. "It's now nearly six o'clock, and we +will jump into the machine and get up there before he can get out to +supper. The men will take care of these prisoners." + +After a few skillful orders, Sawyer led the way downstairs. They were +soon speeding up to the Riverside Drive residence of the +philanthropist, Sawyer and Burke enjoying the machine to themselves. + +"This is a joy ride that will not be so joyful for one man on the +return trip, Burke!" exclaimed Sawyer, as he took off his cap to mop +the perspiration from his brow. He had been through a strenuous +afternoon and was beginning to feel the strain. + +"How shall we approach his house?" asked Burke. + +"You get out of the machine and go to the door. There's no need of +alarming his family. Just tell the servant who answers the door that +you want to speak to the boss--say that there's been a robbery down at +his office, and you want to speak to him privately. Tell the servant +not to let the other members of the family know about it, as it would +worry them." + +"That's a good idea, Captain. I understand that his wife and daughter +are very fine women. It will save a terrible scene. What a shame to +make them suffer like this!" + +"Yes, Burke. If these scoundrels only realized that their work always +made some good woman suffer--sometimes a hundred. Think of the women +that this villain has made to suffer, body and soul. Think of the +mothers' hearts he has broken while posing with his charity and his +Bible! All that wickedness is to be punished on his own wife and his +own daughter. I tell you, there's something in life which brings back +the sins of the fathers, all right, upon their children. The Good Book +certainly tells it right." + +The auto was stopped before the handsome residence of the Purity +League's leader. It seemed a bitter tangle of Fate that in these +beautiful surroundings, with the broad blue Hudson River a few hundred +yards away, the green of the park trees, the happy throng of +pedestrians strolling and chatting along the promenade of the Drive, it +should be Burke's duty to drag to punishment as foul a scoundrel as +ever drew the breath of the beautiful spring air. The sun was setting +in the heights of Jersey, across the Hudson, and the golden light +tinted the carved stone doorway of Trubus's home, making Burke feel as +though he were acting in some stage drama, rather than real life. The +spotlight of Old Sol was on him as he rang the bell by the entry. + +"Is Mr. Trubus home?" asked Burke of the portly butler who answered the +summons. + +"Hi don't know, sir," responded the servant, in a conventional +monotone. "What nyme, sir?" + +"Just tell him that it is a policeman. His office has been robbed, and +we want to get some particulars about it." + +"Well, sir, he's dressing for dinner, sir. You'll 'ave to wyte, sir. +Hi wouldn't dare disturb 'im now, sir." + +"You had better dare. This is very important to him. But don't +mention it to anyone else, for it would worry his wife and daughter." + +As Burke was speaking, a big fashionable car drew up behind the one in +which Captain Sawyer sat, awaiting developments. A young man, wearing +a light overcoat, whose open fold displayed a dinner coat, descended +and approached the door. + +"What's the trouble here?" he curtly inquired. + +"None of your business," snapped Burke, who recognized the fiance, +Ralph Gresham. + +"Don't you sauce me--I'll find out myself." + +The butler bowed as Gresham approached. + +"Come in, sir. Miss Trubus is hexpecting you, sir. This person is +wyting to see Mr. Trubus, sir." + +Gresham, with an angry look at the calm policeman, went inside. + +The door shut. Burke for a minute regretted that he had not insisted +on admission. It might have been possible for Trubus to have received +some sort of warning. The "best-laid plans of mice and men" had one +bad habit, as Burke recollected, just at the moment when success was +apparently within grasp. + +But the door opened again. The smug countenance, the neatly brushed +"mutton-chops," the immaculate dinner coat of William Trubus appeared, +and Bobbie looked up into the angry glint of the gentleman's black eyes. + +"What do you mean by annoying me here? Why didn't you telephone me?" +began the owner of the mansion. "I am just going out to dinner." + +He looked sharply at Burke, vaguely remembering the face of the young +officer. Bobbie quietly stepped to his side and caught the knob of the +big door, shutting it softly behind Trubus. + +"Why, you...." + +Before he could finish Burke had deftly clipped one handcuff on the +right wrist of the man and with an unexpected movement pinioned the +other, snapping the manacle as he did so. + +"Outrageous!" exclaimed the astounded Trubus. But Burke was dragging +him rapidly into the car. + +"If you don't want your wife to know about this, get in quickly," +commanded Sawyer sharply. + +Trubus began to expostulate, but his thick lips quivered with emotion. + +"Down to the station house, quick!" ordered the captain to the +chauffeur. "No speed limit." + +"I'll have you discharged from the force for this, you scoundrel!" +Trubus finally found words to say. "Where is your warrant for my +arrest? What is your charge?" + +Sawyer did not answer. + +As they reached a subway station he called out to the driver: + +"Stop a minute. Now, Burke, you had better go uptown and get the +witness; hurry right down, for I want to end this matter to-night." + +Bobbie dismounted, while Trubus stormed in vain. As the car sped +onward he saw the president of the Purity League indulging in language +quite alien to the Scriptural quotations which were his usual stock in +discourse. Captain Sawyer was puffing a cigar and watching the throng +on the sidewalks as though he were stone deaf. + +Burke hurried to the Barton home. There he found a scene of joy which +beggared description. Lorna had recovered and was strong enough to run +to greet him. + +"Oh, Mr. Burke, can you ever forgive me for my silliness and ugly +words?" she began, as Mary caught the officer's hand with a welcome +clasp. + +"There, there, Miss Lorna, I've nothing to forgive. I'm so happy that +you have come out safe and sound from the dangers of these men," +answered Burke. "We have trapped the gang, even up to Trubus, and, if +you are strong enough to go down to the station, we will have him sent +with the rest of his crew to the Tombs to await trial." + +Old Barton reached for Burke's hand. + +"My boy, you have been more than a friend to me on this terrible yet +wonderful day. You could have done no more if you had been my own son." + +The excitement and his own tense nerves drove Bobbie to a speech which +he had been pondering and hesitating to make for several weeks. He +blurted it out now, intensely surprised at his own temerity. + +"Your own son, Mr. Barton.... Oh, how I wish I were.... And I hope +that I may be some day, if you and some one else are willing ... some +day when I have saved enough to provide the right sort of a home." + +He hesitated, and Lorna stepped back. Mary held out her hands, and her +eyes glowed with that glorious dilation which only comes once in a +life-time to one woman's glance for only one man's answering look. + +She held out her hands as she approached him. + +"Oh, Bob ... as though you had to ask!" was all she said, as the strong +arms caught her in their first embrace. Her face was wet with tears as +Bob drew back from their first kiss. + +John Barton was wiping his eyes as Burke looked at him in happy +bewilderment at this curious turn to his fortune. + +"My boy, Bob," began the old man softly, "would you take the +responsibility of a wife, earning no more money than a policeman can?" + +Bob nodded. "I'd do it and give up everything in the world to make her +happy if it were enough to satisfy her," he asserted. + +Barton lifted up a letter which had been lying on the table beside him. +He smiled as he read from it: + + +"DEAR MR. BARTON: + +"The patents have gone through in great shape and they are so basic +that no one can fight you on them. The Gresham Company has offered me, +as your attorney, fifty thousand dollars as an advance royalty, and a +contract for your salary as superintendent for their manufacture. We +can get even more. It may interest you to know that your friend on the +police force won't have to worry about a raise in salary. I have been +working on his case with a lawyer in Decatur, Illinois. His uncle is +willing to make a payment of twenty-four thousand dollars to prevent +being prosecuted for misappropriation of funds on that estate. I will +see you...." + + +Barton dropped the letter to his lap. + +"Now, how does that news strike you?" + +"I can't believe it real," gasped Burke, rubbing his forehead. "But I +am more glad for you than for myself. You will have an immense +fortune, won't you?" + +Smiling into the faces of the two radiant girls, Old Barton drew Lorna +to his side and, reaching forward, tugged at the hand of Mary. + +"In my two dear girls, safe and happy, I have a greater wealth for my +old age than the National City Bank could pay me, Burke. Lorna has +told me of her experience and her escape when all escape seemed +hopeless. She has learned that the sensual pleasures of one side of +New York's glittering life are dross and death. In the books and silly +plays she has read and seen it was pictured as being all song and +jollity. Now she knows how sordid and bitter is the draught which can +only end, like all poison, in one thing. God bless you, my boy, and +you, my girls!" + +Bobbie shook the old man's hand, and then remembered the unpleasant +duty still before him. + +"We must get down town as soon as possible," syd he. "Come, won't you +go with us, Mary?" + +The two girls put on their hats and together they traveled to the +distant police station as rapidly as possible. It was a bitter ordeal +for Lorna, whose strength was nearly exhausted. The welts on her +shoulders from Shepard's whip brought the tears to her eyes. As they +reached the station house the girl became faint. The matron and Mary +had to chafe her hands and apply other homely remedies to keep her up +for the task of identifying the woman who had been captured. + +"Now, Burke," began Sawyer, "I have been saving Trubus for a surprise. +He has been locked up in my private office, and still doesn't know +exactly how we have caught him. I've broken the letter of the rules by +forbidding him to telephone anyone until you came. I guess it is +important enough, in view of our discovery, for me to have done +this--he can call up his lawyer as soon as we have confronted him with +Clemm and this young girl. Bring me the phonograph records." + +They went into his private office, where White was guarding Trubus. + +"How much longer am I to be subject to these Russian police methods?" +demanded Trubus, with an oath. + +"Quiet, now, Mr. Purity League," said Sawyer, "we are going to have +ladies present. You will soon be allowed to talk all you want. But I +warn you in advance that everything you say will be used as evidence +against you." + +"Against me--me, the leading charity worker of our city!" snorted +Trubus, but he watched the door uneasily. + +"Bring in the young ladies, Burke," directed Captain Sawyer. + +Bobbie returned with Mary and Lorna. Trubus started perceptibly as he +observed the new telephone girl whom his wife had induced him to employ +that day. + +Sawyer nodded again to Burke. + +"Now the go-between." He turned to Mary. "Do you know this man, Miss +Barton?" + +The name had a strangely familiar sound to Trubus. He wondered +uneasily. + +"He is William Trubus, president of the Purity League. I worked for +him to-day." + +"Do you recognize this man?" was queried, as Clemm shuffled forward, +with the assistance of Burke's sturdy push. + +"This is the one who was embracing the other telephone girl. But he +did not stay there long. I never saw him before that, to my +recollection." + +"What do you know about this man, Officer 4434?" asked the captain. +Clemm fumbled with his handcuffs, looking down in a sheepish way to +avoid the malevolent looks of Trubus. + +"He is known as John Clemm, although we have found a police record of +him under a dozen different aliases. He formerly ran a gambling house, +and at different times has been involved in bunco game and wire-tapping +tricks. He is one of the cleverest crooks in New York. In the present +case he has been the go-between for this man Trubus, who, posing as a +reformer to cover his activities, has kept in touch with the work of +the Vice Trust, managed by Clemm. They had a dictagraph and a +mechanical pencil register which connected Trubus's office with +Clemm's." + +"It's a lie!" shouted Trubus, furiously. "Some of these degraded +criminals are drawing my famous and honored name into this case to +protect themselves. It is a police scheme for notoriety." + +"You'll get the notoriety," retorted Sawyer. "There is a young man who +is taking notes for the biggest paper in New York. He has verified +every detail. They'll have extras on the streets in fifteen minutes, +for this is the biggest story in years. You are cornered at last, +Trubus. Send in the rest of those people arrested in that house owned +by Trubus." The woman was brought in with the others of the gang who +had been apprehended in the old house. + +[Illustration: The pretended philanthropist was cornered at last.] + +"Now, Mr. Trubus, this woman rented from you and paid a very high +rental. The man Shepard was killed in resisting arrest. We have +rounded up Baxter, Craig, Madame Blanche and a dozen others of your +employees. Have you anything to say?" + +Trubus whirled around and would have struck Clemm had not White +intervened. + +"You squealer! You've betrayed me!" + +"No, I didn't!" cried Clemm, shrinking back. "I swear I didn't!" + +Sawyer reached for the phonograph records and held them up with a +laconic smile. + +"There's no use in accusing anyone else, Trubus. You're your own worst +enemy, for these records, with your own dictagraph as the chief +assistant prosecutor, have trapped you." + +Trubus raised his hands in terror and his iron nerve gave way +completely. + +"Oh, my God!" he cried. "What will my wife and daughter think?" + +"You should have figured that out when you started all this," retorted +Sawyer. "Take them into the cells, and we'll have them arraigned at +Night Court. Make out the full reports now, men." + +The prisoners were led out. + +Trubus turned and begged with Sawyer for a little time. + +"Let me tell my wife," he pleaded. "I don't want any one else to do +it." + +"You stay just where you are, until I am through with you. You're +getting war methods now, Trubus--after waging war from ambush for all +this time. Burke, you had better have the young ladies taken home. Go +up with them. Use the automobile outside. You can have the evening +off as soon as we get through the arraignment at court." + +It took an hour before the first charges could be brought to the +Magistrate, through whose hands all cases must first be carried. The +sisters decided to stay and end their first ordeal with what testimony +was desired. This was sufficient for the starting of the wheels of +justice. Trubus had called up his lawyer, who was on hand with the +usual objections and instructions. But he was held over until the day +court, without bail. + +"Only let me go home, and break the news to my wife and daughter," +begged the subdued man. "Oh, I beg that one privilege." + +The judge looked at Captain Sawyer, who nodded. + +"I will send a couple of men up with him, your honor. I understand his +wife is a very estimable lady. It will be a bitter blow to her." + +"All right. You will have to go in the custody of the police. But I +will not release you on bail." + +Bobbie and the girls had already sped on their way to the happy Barton +home. Trubus, under the watchful eyes of two policemen and with his +lawyer, lost no time in returning to his mansion. + +As he rang the bell the butler hurried to the door in a frightened +manner. + +"It can't be true, sir, wot the pypers say, can it?" he gasped. But +Trubus forced his way past, followed by the attorney and his two guards. + +In the beautiful drawing-room he saw two maids leaning over the +Oriental couch. They were trying to quiet his daughter. + +"Why, Sylvia, my child," he cried. + +"Oh, oh!" exclaimed the girl, forcing herself free from the restraining +hands of the servants. She laughed shrilly as she staggered toward her +father. Her eyes were wide and staring with the light of madness. +"Here's father! Dear father!" + +Trubus paled, but caught her in his arms. + +"My poor dear," he began. + +"Oh, look, father, what it says in the papers. We missed you--ha, +ha!--and the newsboys sold us this on the street. Look, father, +there's your picture. He, he! And Ralph bought it and brought it to +me." + +She staggered and sank half-drooping in his arms. Her head rolled back +and her eyes stared wildly at the ceiling. Her mad laughter rang out +shrilly, piercing the ears of her miserable father. The two policemen +and the lawyer watched the uncanny scene. + +"Ha, ha! Ralph read it, and he's gone. He wouldn't marry me now, he +said,--ha, ha! Father! Who cares? Oh, it's so funny!" She broke +from her father's hold and ran into the big dining room, pursued by the +sobbing maids. + +"She's gone crazy as a loon," whispered one of the policemen to the +other. + +"Where is my wife?" timidly asked Trubus, as he supported himself with +one hand on a table near the door. The frightened butler, with +choleric red face, pointed upward. + +Trubus drew himself up and started for the broad stairway. + +Just then a revolver shot smote the ears of the excited men. It came +from above. + +"Great God!" uttered Trubus, clasping his hand to his heart. He ran +for the stairs, followed by the two patrolmen, while the lawyer sank +weakly into a chair and buried his face in his hands. He guessed only +too well what had happened. + +The policemen were slower than the panic-stricken Trubus. + +They found him in his magnificent boudoir, kneeling and sobbing by the +side of his dead wife; a revolver had fallen to the floor from her limp +hand. It was still smoking. The exquisite lace coverlet was even now +drinking up the red stains, and the bluecoats stopped at the doorway, +dropping their heads as they instinctively doffed their caps. + +Gruff Roundsman Murphy crossed himself, while White wiped his eyes with +the back of his hand. He remembered a verse from the old days when he +went to Sunday-school in the Jersey town where he was born. + +"'Vengeance is mine,' saith the Lord." + + * * * * * + +The blossoms of late May were tinting the greensward beneath the trees +of Central Park as Bobbie Burke and Mary strolled along one of the +winding paths. They had just walked up the Avenue from their last +shopping expedition. + +"I hated to bid the boys at the station house good-bye this afternoon, +Mary. Yet after to-night we'll be away from New York for a wonderful +month in the country. And then no more police duty, is there?" + +"No, Bob. You and father will be the busiest partners in New York and +you will have to report for duty at our new little apartment every +evening before six. I'm so glad that you can leave all those dangers, +and gladder still because of my own selfish gratifications. After +to-night." + +"Well, I'm scared of to-night more than I was of that police parade on +May Day, with all that fuss about the medal. Here I've got to face a +minister, and you know that's not as easy as it seems." + +They reached the new home which the advance royalties for old Barton's +days of realization had made possible. It was a handsome apartment on +Central Park West, and the weeks of preparation had turned it into a +wonderful bower for this night of nights. + +"Look, Mary," cried Lorna, as they came in. "Here are two more +presents. One must weigh a ton and the other is in this funny old +bandbox." + +They opened the big bundle first; it was a silver service of elaborate, +ornate design. It had cost hundreds of dollars. + +On a long paper Bobbie saw the names of a hundred men, all familiar and +memory-stirring. The list was headed with the simple dedication in the +full, round hand which Burke recognized as that of Captain Sawyer: + + +"To the Prince of all the Rookies and his Princess, from his brother +cops. God bless you, Bobbie Burke, and Mrs. Bobbie." + + +Ex-officer 4434 Burke blinked and hugged his happy fiancee delightedly. + +"What's in that old bandbox, Bob?" asked Lorna. "It's marked +'Glass--Handle with care.' I wonder how it ever held together. Some +country fellow left it at the door this afternoon, but wouldn't come +in." + +They opened it, and Mary gasped. + +"Why, look at the flowers!" + +The box seemed full of old-fashioned country blossoms, as Mary dipped +her hand into it. Then she deftly reached to the bottom of the big +bandbox and lifted its contents. Wrapped in a sheathing of oiled +tissue paper was a monstrous cake, layer on layer, like a Chinese +pagoda. It was covered with that rustic triumph of multi-colored icing +which only grandmothers seem able to compound in these degenerate days +of machine-made pastry of the city bakeries. + +A wedding ring of yellow icing was molded in the center, while on +either side were red candy hearts, joined by whirly sugar streamers of +pink and blue. + +A card pinned in the center said: + +"From Henrietta and Joe." + +"That's all we needed," said Mary with a sob in her happy voice, "to +make our wedding supper end right. Wasn't it, Officer 4434?" + + + + +THE END + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Traffic in Souls, by Eustace Hale Ball + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRAFFIC IN SOULS *** + +***** This file should be named 29453.txt or 29453.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/4/5/29453/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/29453.zip b/29453.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f2450cb --- /dev/null +++ b/29453.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a2b7250 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #29453 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/29453) |
