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CAN 
 SUCH THINGS BE? 
 
 A STORY 
 OF A WHITE SLAVE 
 
 By 
 WILLIAM GLEESON 
 
Chicago, Illinois, November 1st, 1915, 
 
 Moved by the generous approval the Story of "Vice 
 AND Virtue" has received from its numerous readers, and 
 at the solicitation of a number of them, the Author of that 
 story has been induced to make another attempt, and place 
 before the reading public a work dealing with a subject of 
 grave moment to the social, moral, and legal welfare of the 
 citizens the world over: the extensive barter and sale of 
 women and girls for immoral purposes seeming to have no 
 geographical limitations. 
 
 As has been proven in our public courts, agencies in 
 New York and others of the large cities of our country 
 have so commercialized the traffic, that they have sub- 
 agencies in every quarter of the globe. 
 
 The Story of "CAN SUCH THINGS BE? — THE 
 STORY OF A WHITE SLAVE," deals with a local phase 
 of the subject, how girls are first trapped, and then degraded 
 until they become so despondent, or so callous, as to care 
 not what becomes of them. 
 
 The Author, fully alive to the delicacy of dealing with 
 such a subject, has kept well within matters of common 
 knowledge, and at the same time tells a story that may 
 interest, entertain, and arouse the sympathy of his readers 
 for the unfortunate victims, and resentment against their 
 betrayers. 
 
 Hoping I have not failed in my object, I am, 
 Very sincerelv vours. 
 
 WILLIAM GLEESON. 
 518 So. Morgan St. 
 
 COPYRIGHT APPI.IKD FOR 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RKSERVKD 
 »2SC 
 
AUTHOR OF 
 
 'Vice and Virtue" 
 
 "A National Highway" 
 
 "Sunshine and Shadow' 
 
(HantmtB 
 
 Chapter Page 
 
 1 The Emigrants 3 
 
 2 Comrades 12 
 
 3 Joy and Sorrow 19 
 
 4 The Parting 23 
 
 5 The Fatal Meeting 31 
 
 6 Sold and Paid For 41 
 
 7 The White Slave 48 
 
 8 Initiated 55 
 
 9 Anxiety 65 
 
 10 Lost Beyond a Doubt ! 74 
 
 1 1 Resigned 80 
 
 12 The First Ward Democratic Ball 86 
 
 13 Rebellion 95 
 
 14 A Quandary 101 
 
 15 A Conference IOC) 
 
 16 Rest For the Wearv 112 
 
 17 The Inevitable . . .'. 121 
 
 18 The Invalid .' 128 
 
 19 The Convalescent 137 
 
 20 Necessity Knows No I .aw 144 
 
 21 The Round Up 151 
 
 22 The Surprise 158 
 
 23 The Story 170 
 
 24 The Oath 182 
 
 25 Baffled 192 
 
 26 Planning 199 
 
 27 The Search 20^) 
 
 28 Found 221 
 
 2<) Claimed 231 
 
 30 1 lomc At Last 242 
 
 31 An F.xplanatioti 2n2 
 
 32 A Tragedy 260 
 
Chapter Page 
 
 23 The Third Degree 273 
 
 34 The Triangle 285 
 
 35 Robert Hill Takes a Vacation 294 
 
 36 Vengeance 301 
 
 37 Mugsy Has a Close Call 309 
 
 38 Peace Reigns in B 314 
 
 SUuatrattoits 
 
 (By Florence A. Gibson.) 
 
 The Age of Innocence 12 
 
 The Cadet at Work 32 
 
 The Victim 46 
 
 The Introduction 62 
 
 The African Missionaries 84 
 
 "Bring Her Along Mike !" 152 
 
 The Swan Song 178 
 
 "What I Want Is Revenge !" 188 
 
 'T Am No Thief!" 280 
 
 Coram Non Jiidice 306 
 
 In Memoriam 324 
 
PREFACE 
 
 There are two social problems at the present time to 
 wliieh the thinking people of this country are giving con- 
 siderable attention : 
 
 One, the effects of alcoholism on the community; the 
 other, distinctively a moral one, namely prostitution, and 
 the methods practiced in propagating it and furnishing 
 what might be designated the raw material. 
 
 Many books have been written on this latter subject, 
 especially on the vilest of all methods, that of the decoys — 
 the cadets as they are now named — who in the pursuit of 
 victims for the "White Slave traffic resort to every method 
 within the conscienceless ingenuity of demons. 
 
 That no adequate punishment commensurate with the 
 crime has been allotted on conviction, even in the most 
 aggravated cases, is the opinion of the author, who in this 
 story provides a fitting penalty for the guilty parties as far 
 as the avenger could reach them. 
 
 It is the aim of the author to show the manner by which 
 experts in the profession first secure their victims and the 
 helplessness of those once secure in the toils. 
 
 Many of my readers may say that the episode I try to 
 portray is an exaggerated case, but when we come to con- 
 sider that statisticians assert that 50,000 girls are either lost, 
 stolen or strayed annually in America, and after once lost 
 few are ever regained, and that it takes 5,000 victims in 
 Chicago alone to provide for the wants of commercialized 
 vice, the history of Martha Hill cannot be claimed as ex- 
 ceptional. 
 
ii PREFACE 
 
 The story of "Vice and Virtue," written by the same 
 author, was widely commented on, and served the purpose 
 intended, to expose and hold up for condemnation the 
 tough saloon, the grafting politician, and, above all, the 
 dangers that beset girls in attending dances organized by 
 hoodlums, who had special permits from the authorities to 
 sell liquor to the youths of both sexes indiscriminately until 
 three in the morning, so that the men with evil intent in 
 numerous eases found ready victims for their brutal desires, 
 who inveigled the innocent girls into the all night saloons 
 which abounded in close proximity to the dance halls, where 
 wine rooms furnished ample opportunities for outrages to 
 be committed. 
 
 The reading of ''Vice and Virtue" by many hundreds 
 of Chicago's leading citizens, both lay and clerical, has had 
 its effect ; and the authorities, awake to the dangers attend- 
 ing such functions, are more careful in granting permits. 
 In lieu thereof they have organized municipal dances Avhere 
 the youth of our city may indulge in terpsichorean enjoy- 
 ment under proper control, and where no intoxicating stim- 
 ulants will be permitted. 
 
 In dealing with the subject of Vice, the difficulty con- 
 fronts the author of how specific he can be without over- 
 stepping the liounds of i)rudence, M-hich, if done, may give 
 offense to sensitive readers, or excite the morl)id interest 
 of those having not sufficient judgment to appreciate the 
 fact that the tale told is for the purpose of arousing the 
 wrath of all well-meaning persons against the scoundrels 
 who profit by the traffic in women. 
 
 In the many works published in i-efei-once to tlie ^Vhite 
 Slave traffic there is a uniformity of information, and in 
 some are suggested remedies, but still the crime goes on. In 
 most of the books on the subject appear extracts from let- 
 
PREFACE iii 
 
 ters and speeches of eminent divines, social reformers and 
 public officials, all of a stereotyped character, leaving no 
 lasting impression after being read. It is the aim of the 
 author of this story to so impress his readers that he or she 
 will ever remember not only the events portrayed but also 
 the leading characters, good and evil, in this doleful tragedy 
 of outraged innocence and also the punishment dealt to 
 those responsible for the crime. If he succeeds in doing 
 this, his labor cannot be said to be in vain. 
 
 The author in many parts of this work substitutes the 
 ancient for the modern terms, as for instance: the home of 
 the prostitute was formerly designated a brothel, now it is 
 a sporting house, and the inmates now termed sporting 
 women were once known by a much harsher term, while the 
 pimp is now occasionally called a manager, and lives on the 
 wages of sin, and the white slaver is known by his pro- 
 fessional associates as a cadet. 
 
 Why this change in nomenclature is hard to explain, 
 unless it be to give an air of respectability to the habitues 
 of the underworld. 
 
 Those very sensitive people who condemn an exposure 
 of vicious methods, and who never do more than whisper 
 their opinions of such matters to very close associates, we 
 advise not to read the story "Can Such Things Be?" But 
 of all who wish to buckle on their armor for the suppression 
 of the worst of crimes, the barter and sale of the bodies 
 and gouls of the daughters of men, I earnestly solicit the 
 patronage and support. 
 
 Respectfully submitted, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
THE EMIGRANTS 3 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE EMIGRANTS. 
 
 SOME twenty years before the active events took place, 
 which it is the aim of the author to chronicle, two men 
 
 with their wives settled in the town of B , Michigan. 
 
 Both had recently arrived from the old country. Robert 
 Hill, the first to come, was from the north of Ireland — 
 either the town of Belfast or Newry, we forget which. 
 
 Hill was a Presbyterian in religion, but not a bigot. 
 He claimed that every man or woman had the right to 
 worship at the shrine which, in his or her opinion, was the 
 safest and surest way to salvation. 
 
 Those views which he held and was ever ready to 
 defend were not over-popular with many of his co-religion- 
 ists in the town he came from ; so his advocacy of them 
 created for him some enmity. 
 
 Refusing to become a member of the Royal Orange 
 Lodge, even his loyalty was questioned, and he was often- 
 times badgered even by those somewhat friendly to him, as 
 it was considered both bad judgment and bad taste on his 
 part not to join a society, to which it was claimed all who 
 were respectable and loyal to the Queen and Constitution 
 owed membership. 
 
 As the 12th day of July approached each year, in- 
 creased efforts were made to add to the membership in the 
 Royal Orange Lodge, so that the annual parade might be 
 as imposing as possible. 
 
 The persistency with which one of the over-zealous 
 
4 THE EMIGRANTS 
 
 solicitors in pursuit of members pestered him, on one occa- 
 sion, caused him to lose his temper — so much so that he told 
 him he had no earthly use for the society ; that the majority 
 of the members were nothing but rowdies ; that the organiza- 
 tion was subsidized and maintained for the purpose of keep- 
 ing the people of Ireland divided in the interests of a landed 
 aristocracy, the most of whom were aliens, with no interest 
 in the country except for the opportunities it gave to rack- 
 rent their tenants. And that, further, the English garrison 
 in Ireland encouraged the Orangemen who were a menace 
 to the peace and good-will of the Irish people on account 
 of political exigencies. 
 
 Those remarks of Hill were duly reported at the next 
 meeting of the lodge. The followers of the glorious, pious, 
 and immortal William were dumfounded. It was voted that 
 he was a rebel to Queen and country — yes, even to the 
 religion of his sires ; that he was hopelessly lost ; a papist in 
 disguise, and that no further effort should be made to 
 reclaim him, and that in the future no decent man, who had 
 any respect for his character, should commune with him. 
 
 Ever after, when the annual parade was organized to 
 show the papists that religious liberty had still its cham- 
 pions and that the memory of the man who robbed his 
 father-in-law of his crown was still green and that it would 
 be just as well for every Roman to keep indoors at least 
 for that occasion, they marched with their bauds playing 
 "Croppy Lie Down," "The Boyne Water," and other 
 patriotic airs. 
 
 Robert Hill's home la}' on the line of marcli. In pass- 
 ing his residence the ])uglers seemed to blow a more vicious 
 blast, while the man Avith the big drum laid on with in- 
 creased might to keep up with tlie rallying cry "To Hell 
 with the Pope". Many of the paraders glanced up at the 
 
THE EMIGRANTS 5 
 
 little home of the Hills', where the blinds were closely 
 drawn, others gave vent to their outraged feelings by 
 groans, while some of the young urchins, who kept in line 
 with the marchers, would hurl a stone at the door or win- 
 dows while passing. Some of the more staid members of 
 the parade would remonstrate with the youngsters in a 
 mild kind of w^ay, others would roar with laughter, as they 
 heard the glass crash to the pavement. "Good enough for 
 him," w^as the comment of many. 
 
 After one of those occasions, when an extra display of 
 ill feeling had been shown toward him by his fellow-coun- 
 trymen and co-religionists, he resolved to leave his native 
 heath and seek in other lands that peace and prosperity 
 denied him in his own. 
 
 Before leaving, he took unto himself a wife, the girl of 
 his choice, who believed, as did Rebecca of Old, that his 
 God was her God, that his people were her people, and that, 
 wherever he would go, she would go. So she left home and 
 kindred to accompany and cheer the man she sincerely 
 loved with all her heart and soul. 
 
 Martha, his wife, was a farmer's daughter; so their 
 original intention on arriving in America was to settle on 
 the land. They had heard that the state of Michigan gave 
 ample opportunities to settlers, so they made their way to 
 
 the town of B , then a growing community with an 
 
 abundance of virgin soil close to its outskirts, waiting for 
 those who desired to till it. 
 
 Hill had no trade, but was what might be called^ a 
 handy man, his principal forte that of carpenter. So, while 
 looking around for a suitable quarter section to locate on, 
 was offered a job to assist in the construction of a barn. 
 The man who employed him had less skill than had Hill, 
 whose natural ability and untiring industry raised him con- 
 
6 THE EMIGRANTS 
 
 siderably in the estimation of his employer, so that, ere he 
 was through with his first job, others who had similar work 
 to do sought his services. 
 
 Barns and eorncribs had to be constructed, sidewalks 
 
 laid, the farmers in the outskirts of B were generous 
 
 and not overhard to please. AVhat they wanted was a good 
 substantial structure, one that would resist the winds, which 
 were sometimes especially violent in that part of the coun- 
 try, and oft played havoc with the frail structures that 
 the farmers themselves put up on account of scarcity of 
 builders. 
 
 The people of the village, about the time of Hill's ar- 
 rival, were clamoring for local improvements, so Hill was 
 besieged to lay sidewalks. In fact, his great difficulty was 
 in meeting the many demands on his services. True, wages 
 in those days were not high, but the cost of provisions was 
 so low that his income was out of all proportion to what 
 he had been receiving in the town and country from whence 
 he came. 
 
 In a brief time Hill was a welcome acquisition to the 
 
 town of B , and many's the time the farmers, driving 
 
 past the little cottage Hill had rented, would pull up their 
 horses and, after asking Mrs. Hill if Robert was in, which 
 was seldom the case between sunrise and sunset, would 
 throw from the wagon a bag of potatoes, a dozen heads of 
 cabbage or a quantity of whatever vegetables or fruit was 
 in season and then drive on with the cheery parting, "Tell 
 Robert I called. Good day, Mrs. Hill." She thanking him 
 as he smiled and went on his way. 
 
 The original idea of settling on the land for the time 
 being had to be deferred; but Hill, knowing the leaning of 
 his wife for a farm, decided on a compromise. He would 
 secure a lot as soon as flu:' rush of work was over, and build 
 
THE EMIGRANTS 7 
 
 himself a cottage. There was no scarcity of building sites 
 in town. One corner in particular he had his eye on. He 
 had done some work for the owner; so one day Hill ap- 
 proached him as to the price which he thought was reason- 
 able. Hill, with some misgivings, said: "I haven't that 
 much money. " "I have not asked you for any yet, have I ? " 
 said the owner. Robert's mind reverted to the difficulties 
 of securing a little tract of land in Ireland, no matter how 
 barren. 
 
 "I suppose you're going to build yourself a cottage?" 
 queried the real estate man. 
 
 "Yes, sir. When 1 have time and a little more money." 
 
 "Well, when you are ready, go down to Jones, the 
 lumber man, and tell him I sent you, and, if he wants to 
 know anything about your credit, tell him to come and 
 see me." 
 
 That evening Hill told his wife of the conversation he 
 had with the real estate man. She listened till the tears of 
 joy welled up in her eyes, and in her heartfelt gratitude 
 she invoked God's blessing on the landowner, instead of 
 curses, as she had often heard her father give vent to against 
 the rackrenting steward who acted as agent for the alien 
 landlord, who owned the land from whom her father rented 
 and had to till to obtain a paltry living, and was afraid to 
 show any sign of prosperity for fear of having his rent 
 raised. 
 
 Matthew Howard, the other party referred to, and his 
 
 young wife arrived in the town of B some three months 
 
 after the Hills. Howard was an Englishman, who had con- 
 ducted a small haberdashery in one of the small towns in 
 Lancashire. He was only recently married, when he and 
 his wife decided to sell their business and leave for America, 
 of which he had heard such glowing accounts. 
 
8 THE EMIGRANTS 
 
 When he had sold the good will of his shop, with its 
 stock and fixtures, settling up his outstanding accounts with 
 all his creditors, making some purchases of goods that they 
 would need on the train and ship, and secured the neces- 
 sary tickets for himself and wife, he had close upon three 
 hundred pounds left. 
 
 After arriving in New York and looking around its 
 busy, bustling center, he came to the conclusion that the 
 few hundred dollars he had, after exchanging English sover- 
 eigns for American dollars, would not go far in establishing 
 a business in New York. This opinion was intensified when 
 he inquired into the annual rental of some of the city's 
 stores. 
 
 Besides, at the time he arrived, Horace Greeley's ad- 
 vice, *'Go west and grow up with the country," was a topic 
 of conversation and an advice thousands were following. 
 Howard determined to do likewise, so he decided to try 
 Michigan — how he made the selection was never clear to 
 him. Years after, when he had become a prosperous busi- 
 ness man, he attributed it to his good luck. 
 
 Howard and his wife ultimately found themselves in 
 
 the town of B . He claimed to have liked it from the 
 
 first. Being of a social disposition, he held converse with 
 many of the natives who, one and all, proclaimed it to be 
 the coming town, and when he told them he had a notion 
 to settle down among them, there was a general acclaim : 
 "You couldn't do better." 
 
 So he sought himself a store, determined to follow the 
 line he was familiar with, the only change lieing in name 
 from "haberdashery" to "gentlemen's furnishings," with 
 women's wear as a side line. 
 
 Having found a suital)k' loi-ation, signed a lease, and 
 l)iiid a month's i-ent in advance, something he had never 
 
THE EMIGRANTS 9 
 
 done before, the landloard from whom he rented agreed to 
 put the place in necessary repairs, which he did to Howard's 
 satisfaction. This being done, he went in quest of a car- 
 penter to make a counter, necessary cases and shelving on 
 which to place his stock. 
 
 This led him to make Hill's acquaintance. Howard 
 gave Hill instructions as to what he wanted done. Hill gave 
 him an estimate, at the same time putting in the proviso, 
 "It may cost a dollar or two more." 
 
 "Go ahead," was Howard's reply offhand, typical of 
 his nationality, which boasts of the squarest and fairest busi- 
 ness men in the world and who do less huxtering than do 
 the people in any part of the habitable globe. 
 
 During the time Hill was on the job he and Howard 
 became very well acquainted. Hill surprised Howard when 
 he told him that he also was a comparative stranger, having 
 arrived only three months ahead of him. 
 
 "Is that so? Well, how does your wife like it?" in- 
 quired Howard. 
 
 "At first she felt very lonesome, but never complained, 
 and now, as I am doing fairly well, she is a good deal more 
 cheerful." 
 
 "You will have to introduce her to my wife, as I am 
 afraid Mrs. Howard is in for a spell of homesickness." 
 
 Hill promised he would, at the earliest opportunity. 
 So the women met one evening at Hill's, had a friendly chat 
 about their long journey, their hopes in the future, and so 
 became fast friends, as did their husbands — two men in a 
 strange land with much in common. 
 
 In the fall of the year, when Hill had satisfied the press- 
 ing demands of his customers, he decided to make the neces- 
 sary preparation to build his cottage. His lot was but one 
 block from the main street, situated on a corner, its dimen- 
 
10 THE EMIGRANTS 
 
 sions one hundred by a hundred and fifty, running to an 
 alley in the rear. His friend, Howard, in inspecting it, said 
 it was an ideal spot, and proffered a little assistance, for 
 which Hill thanked him, but said it was not necessary, as 
 he could get all the lumber he wanted on time — which was 
 true — as all material for the work he had done since coming 
 to B had been purchased from the one firm, whose pro- 
 prietor had a high appreciation of Hill as an energetic, 
 industrious man, whose honesty he felt assured of, and thus 
 had more reliable data as to Hill's credit as a risk than 
 could Dun's or Bradstreet's special agents be likely to learn 
 after careful inquiry. 
 
 Hill's cottage when built was more substantial than 
 artistic, sufficiently back from the street to leave room for 
 a more imposing front to the four rooms completed, when 
 circumstances would permit. 
 
 The day Hill moved in, Mr. and Mrs. Howard came 
 over as soon as they had closed their store, and spent the 
 evening with them as a kind of house-warming. 
 
 Howard and Hill talked business over their pipes, and 
 infused courage into one another by their optimism ; while 
 their partners adjourned to another room and interchanged 
 views about things in general and probably about their 
 neighbors in particular, and matters of a delicate character 
 that brought joy and anxiety at the same time to both. 
 
 In the rear of Hill's cottage he had laid out a garden 
 on which he worked during his spare hours, assisted by his 
 wife, whose early experience on her father's farm gave her 
 an advantage. 
 
 Hill placed a neat fence in front of his cottage on which 
 he displayed some taste, and fenced around the entire lot 
 so as to keep stray cows, pigs and horses out, whose right 
 to graze on the adjoining prairie was common to all at this 
 
THE EMIGRANTS 11 
 
 time. He built a coop for chickens, and in a short time put 
 up a stye, and purchased a couple of young pigs from a 
 farmer for whom he was doing some work, at the same time 
 securing a Milch cow, which he took as part payment. 
 
 Mrs. Hill began to think it was very much like home, 
 minus the poverty. Her heart rejoiced. She could not think 
 of anything more she wanted, except the safe arrival of a 
 little stranger that might be expected in the near future. 
 [When he did come, Mrs. Howard was in attendance as chief 
 nurse. 
 
 This event consummated the happiness of the Hills. A 
 father's love for his first-born has no bounds, nor has a 
 mother 's idolatry for her baby boy any limit. 
 
 The doctor pronounced the youngster in every way ex- 
 ternally perfect, and the squall he gave vent to while re- 
 ceiving his first bath on the knee of a neighboring woman, 
 who had come in to lend a hand, left no room for doubt that 
 his little lungs were in excellent working order. 
 
 The newly-arrived was christened, in due time, 
 "Robert," after his father. Mr. and Mrs. Howard stood 
 sponsors for him. 
 
 The Hills at this time may be said to have had solid 
 comfort — Mr. Hill had plenty of work, the wife of his bosom, 
 his baby boy, and a comfortable home. He was as happy 
 as a king. Yes, a great deal happier than the majority of 
 kings; for if he, Robert Hill, had a care in the world, he 
 didn't know it. 
 
12 COMRADES 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 COMRADES. 
 
 It was hardly two months after the birth of young 
 Robert when Mrs. Kill got a hasty summons to come over 
 to Mrs. Howard's — there was something doing. 
 
 Mrs. Hill ran into a neighbor's with young Bob on her 
 arm, and asked the mistress of the house to take care of him 
 for awhile as she was going over to Martha's, who <5he 
 guessed was in trouble. The woman took charge of the 
 child cheerfully, who was little trouble, having recently 
 gorged himself from the parent fount. 
 
 Mrs. Hill arrived at the Howard homestead out of 
 breath, and with her willing heart and recent experience 
 installed herself as head nurse and general assistant to the 
 doctor who had already arrived. 
 
 In about three hours she returned to take charge of her 
 own boy, who had slept the entire time during her absence. 
 
 "Well, how are things over at Howard's?" inquired 
 the woman who had taken charge of young Hill. 
 
 "Splendid. Mrs. Howard has a fine boy, and both she 
 and the child are doing well. The doctor says there is no 
 trouble at all, but I am going back as soon as my husband 
 comes home and I give him his supper." 
 
 Hill and Howard were of good old country stock. 
 While their wives were youthful, dutiful, and fruitful, their 
 husbands more than probably thought them l)eautiful. They 
 v/ere good women and good wives, and good helpmates, and 
 that covers every necessary qualification. 
 
TiiK Age of Ixxocexce 
 
COMRADES 13 
 
 Martha Hill, the unfortunate victim of this very sad 
 story, arrived fifteen months after Robert Hill junior. 
 Rachel Howard a few weeks after Martha Hill. Before 
 Robert Hill junior was six years old he had two sisters and 
 a brother, and, as if it had to be, before Matt Howard junior 
 was six had a brother and two sisters. 
 
 The children of both families grew up together. Bobby 
 Hill, or his sister Martha, would demand a piece of bread 
 and butter at the Howard house, and get it as cheerfully 
 as at their own; while the young Howards would make a 
 raid on Hill's peach or cherry trees just as if they owned 
 them. Mrs. Hill's only anxiety being, the children w^ould 
 eat too much of the luscious fruit and make themselves sick. 
 
 Bobbie Hill and Mattie Howard were constant com- 
 panions, as were their little sisters. Boys, like ducks, are 
 fond of the water. Bob and Matt would go to the creek to 
 swim, or near swim, probably oftener than they told their 
 parents. Martha and Rachel would follow them and wit- 
 ness the wonderful feats of splashing and diving performed 
 by the two boys. Little sisters have an exalted idea of their 
 brothers' prowess, though they may be but a year or two 
 older than they. When the boys came out of the water 
 they might have to tell their sisters to get off their clothes. 
 Young Miss Hill, in a spirit of mischief, might give young 
 Howard a slap — a little below where he would wear his belt 
 if he had one. Young Miss Howard, entering into the spirit 
 of the fun, would give young Hill a slap, and then both the 
 little girls run for it, the boys either pursuing them or 
 threatening what they would do when they caught them. 
 
 But their wrath never lasted much after they had their 
 trousers on, and the four youngsters would start for home, 
 and on the way pick wild flowers or blackberries, or do 
 anything that struck their childish fancy. 
 
14 COMRADES 
 
 The time arrived, however, when Bob and Matt had to 
 go to school, a great hardship to the youngster with the 
 savage's inclination to roam at large. Their sisters following 
 them a year later, they were still constant companions. 
 
 That idea inherent in the savage, who looks upon the 
 female as an inferior being over whom he can lord, often 
 showed up in the boys when they would compel their sisters 
 to take their books and slates home while they rushed off 
 to the creek to take their daily swim. 
 
 Occasionally the girls would follow their brothers, and 
 would throw tufts of grass or sod at them, or harder mis- 
 siles into close proximity to the young bathers for the pur- 
 pose of showing their resentment by splashing and trying 
 to irritate them at the same time. 
 
 One very warm day after the boys had been to school 
 for a couple of years, they ordered the girls home with 
 their books and slates which, added to those of the girls, 
 made a considerable parcel, and led them to make a mild 
 protest, but to no avail. 
 
 Robert and Matt raced for the creek to take their daily 
 plunge. After a time their sisters came strolling along, arm 
 in arm. They looked at the boys' sunburned bodies in the 
 water as they had done hundreds of times before, but noticed 
 an innovation. Each of the youngsters had on a little pair 
 of drawers. Young Howard had found them in his father's 
 stock, and preempted a pair for himself and a pair for his 
 friend Hill, without a single tJiought as to their purpose, 
 but of being in line with young men of more mature growth 
 who, they had noticed, wore such things while batliiug. 
 
 The girls, on noticing the change, walked away, whis- 
 pering to one another. Probably they wove not well uj) in 
 biblical history, and so not conversant with the wonderful 
 change l)rought about by the eating of an apple by our 
 
COMRADES 15 
 
 first parents. But their eyes were opened. They felt the 
 influence of the tree of knowledge, though it had withered 
 in the garden of Eden thousands of years before. 
 
 And, while much more reserve was displayed in the 
 future than in the past, they were still sisters and brothers, 
 neither of the boys making much distinction, up to this 
 time having not reached the age when a fellow thinks more 
 of another fellow's sister than he does of his own. 
 
 When the two young gentlemen aforementioned "wtire 
 hobeldy-hoyes," that is, between men and boys, Martha 
 Hill would spend an occasional evening at the Howards' 
 when her friend Rachel would prevail upon her to stay all 
 night and sleep with her. The bedrooms were on the second 
 floor. Matthew at this time used to help his father in the 
 store, and, being a fine, healthy youngster, bedtime found 
 him both tired and sleepy. So as soon as his head struck the 
 pillow he was dead to the world. 
 
 The girls, bent on mischief, would get up in their night 
 gowns, each armed with a pillow, and would steal silently 
 along the passage to Matt's room and opening his door and 
 seeing him asleep would hurl their pillows at his head. If 
 their aim was accurate, he would wake with a start, jump 
 up, and make a bluff as to following them in his night shirt, 
 which if he wore one at all was much shorter than those 
 worn by the girls, who would scamper away and close the 
 door of their room as if in deadly fear of his following them. 
 
 This was great fun for the girls, who would laugh at 
 his discomfiture. Sometimes when they were extra per- 
 sistent, as a last resort he would get up and, pulling on his 
 trousers, take one of the pillows they had hurled at him, go 
 to their room and souse them both good and plenty, the 
 girls squirming and performing remarkable contortions in 
 their efforts to cover both their heads and their legs at the 
 same time, while he flailed them both indiscriminately. 
 
16 COMRADES 
 
 The girls ultimately supplicating for mercy. ''Now 
 will you be good?" he would say to them, and they both 
 promising they would he would retire to his own room, tak- 
 ing the precaution to barricade his door for fear the treaty 
 of peace would be violated, roll into bed and soon be sleep- 
 ing the sleep of the innocent. 
 
 The next morning at the breakfast table the battle of 
 the previous night would be the subject of discourse, he 
 telling of the trouncing he had to give the two girls to make 
 them behave themselves. His father and mother would 
 smile at the recital, while the younger members would laugh 
 with merriment, as they listened to the details of the pillow 
 combat. 
 
 The girls denying he gave half as much as he got and 
 his sister threatening to get even with him the first night 
 Martha came over to stay with her. 
 
 Bob Hill used to delight to hear his sister Martha's 
 version of what she and Rachel had done to Matt, and it 
 was just as enjoyable to hear ]\Iatt tell what he had done 
 to Martha and Rachel, Bob's only regret being that he wasn't 
 there to help out his friend and companion, claiming 'twas 
 hardly fair for both of them to jump on Matt at the same 
 time. "If I had been there, we would have given it to you 
 both good and plenty." 
 
 Such was the early life and times of the leading char- 
 acters in this dismal story of frightful wrong. 
 
JOY AND SORROW 17 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 JOY AND SORROW. 
 
 Matthew Howard, Sr., like most of his countrymen, had 
 little choice between the multiplicity of Protestant per- 
 suasions. 
 
 He supposed he was an Episcopalian, but if he was 
 asked to define the difference between that faith and that 
 of the Methodists, Baptists or Presbyterians, he would give 
 it up. 
 
 As for Hill, his early experience with some of the Pres- 
 byterians he had known made him not over-friendly to them. 
 He had in mind some of the rabid sermons of some of their 
 preachers on the eve of the glorious 12th, as they designated 
 it. He, however, never bothered himself about religious 
 observances. On Sunday morning he preferred a rest after 
 his hard week's work, leaving his good wife to attend to 
 church matters and the proper training of his children; his 
 share being a liberal contribution for the maintenance of 
 the church, and the doing of little jobs for the pastor, a man 
 for whom he had great respect. 
 
 The elder Howard preferred to look over his books on 
 Sunday morning, or going over to Hill's to gossip with his 
 friend. In the summer time they sat out in the garden under 
 the vines, where Hill had made a little arbor, the shade from 
 which, added to the scent from the flowers, made it an ideal 
 retreat. Howard, like his fellow countrymen, liked his glass 
 of ale, so both of the old chums would light their pipes, fill 
 
18 JOY AND SORROW 
 
 their steins, and discuss whatever matters were uppermost 
 in their minds. 
 
 Mrs. Howard was a pillar of the church, her financial 
 condition enabling her to be its most liberal supporter. 
 
 Both families attended the Reformed Evangelical 
 Church. The girls, Martha Hill and Rachel Howard, sang 
 in the choir. 
 
 Martha Hill had a rich soprano voice, and was probably 
 as great an attraction as was the pastor. She was ever will- 
 ing to lend her aid for any charitable or social entertain- 
 ment that frequently took place in the town of B or 
 
 neighboring villages, so her services were frequently sought. 
 
 Her willingness to serve whenever occasion permitted 
 made her extremely popular with all who knew her, espe- 
 cially with the young men who envied Matt Howard, who 
 seemed to have a prior claim on her and whose proud privi- 
 lege it was to escort her home every Sunday after church 
 service. Robert Hill did as much for Rachel Howard, leav- 
 ing their mothers with the younger branches of both fami- 
 lies, to gossip with the members of the congregation, and 
 find their way home at their leisure. 
 
 Martha Hill, when eighteen years old, was considered 
 as handsome a girl as could be found in Michigan. Her 
 form was slight, her hair a dark brown, ever tastily ar- 
 ranged. She had dark eyes, and a face which would have 
 served an artist as a model for painting a picture of the 
 Madonna. 
 
 Matthew Howard felt a pride in walking by her side. 
 He had never spoken of love to her, having grown up from 
 childhood together. He felt for her a brotherly affection, 
 though gossip said that the time would come when they would 
 be bound by a link more binding, and so it was understood. 
 
 He was, however, only a big boy and she a modest, un- 
 
JOY AND SORROW 19 
 
 assuming girl who knew her place. True, if Matt Howard 
 had said, "Martha, I want you to be my wife," she would 
 have said * ' Yes " as a matter of course. But they were both 
 young and there was plenty of time. 
 
 Robert Hill, Sr., had been suffering from rheumatic 
 pains for some time, which incapacitated him for doing much 
 work. At length a severe attack assailed him, he was con- 
 fined to his bed, and lay for months. When able to get up, 
 he was comparatively a cripple, his hands having suffered 
 severely. 
 
 Robert, Jr., worked in the mill as assistant engineer, but 
 his pay was small, as there was no union in that town to 
 boost wages, and farmers' sons were ever ready to take the 
 place of any man who gave up his job, frequently at a re- 
 duced salary. William, his brother, also worked in the mill. 
 He had just turned thirteen, and received but seven dollars 
 a month for his services, hardly enough to furnish him shoes 
 and clothes. There were five other children to be provided 
 for, so the financial condition of the Hills began to be pre- 
 carious. The little money they had saved in better times, 
 ere a year was over, had been spent in maintenance, doctor's 
 fees and medicine. 
 
 The Howards would see they wanted for nothing, but 
 the Hills were proud and, as both families had been for many 
 years on a basis of equality, the Hills hated to take the role 
 of dependants. 
 
 Mrs. Hill, a good frugal woman, determined to make 
 the little money the two boys brought in and the revenue 
 from her garden suffice until better times. 
 
 Martha Hill was just bordering on nineteen when she 
 determined to go to work. There was no employment for 
 
 her in the town of B . Besides, she was known to all, 
 
 where she had long held a position of equality with the 
 
20 JOY AND SORROW 
 
 best people, and so was reluctant to take a menial place even 
 if one was offered in a community where she was kno\vn to 
 all. So she read the ads in the Chicago papers, which 
 stated that girls were wanted in nearly every branch of in- 
 dustry, and in some cases salaries mentioned that seemed 
 liberal to her. She figured, if she could but obtain one of 
 them, the material aid she could give her parents to help 
 them in the maintenance of the family now sorely pinched. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Hill, old-fashioned people, were not over- 
 particular as to their own raiment, but when they were 
 prosperous their Martha should have the best their means 
 could provide or her taste require. So that, at church or 
 social, she was dressed as well, and in as good taste, as any 
 other young lady in the assemblage. Her companion, Rachel 
 Howard, through the financial condition of her parents, was 
 dressed so becomingly that the two girls were recognized as 
 the belles of the town. Both, however, were sensible girls, 
 never put on any airs, and so excited no jealousies, but were 
 loved and admired by all. 
 
 Now that the Hills' circumstances had undergone a 
 change, Martha had to forego much of the finery she was 
 accustomed to, till at length she began to feel sliabby and 
 out of place amongst ber former associates who, like the 
 Howard girls, could afford to dress well. 
 
 Matt Howard never noticed the change. She was the 
 same to him, no matter how she was attired, but many of 
 the young women did. ]\Iartha's sensitive disposition could 
 not fail but notice it. Martha began to avoid them as much 
 as possible. A regular attendant at church when service 
 was over, she began to plead excuses for going home alone ; 
 ]\Iatt Howard's attempt to escort her being met with the 
 statement, "I must hurry home. Father is not very well 
 today and I must help mother to prepare dinner," or some 
 
JOY AND SORROW 21 
 
 other equally valid, if not absolutely truthful excuse. After 
 the evening service her plea was often "she had to hurry 
 home to get the children ready for bed." 
 
 Matt Howard thought it strange of Martha not to as 
 cheerfully accept his company as she had done previously. 
 But being aware of her father's sickness, and feeling con- 
 fident that he had no rival, he attributed it to her anxiety, 
 and consoled himself with the hope her father would soon 
 be better and the old conditions resumed. 
 
 Matthew Howard was just twenty, when a sad mis- 
 fortune happened ; his father and mother both dying within 
 a week of one another from a disease which was epidemic 
 at the time. 
 
 Mr. Howard was the first to succumb. His death cast 
 a gloom over the whole community, as he was considered 
 one of their leading citizens, ever ready to assist in any 
 movement for the general welfare, his money and his time 
 at the disposal of any project he considered good for the 
 town and people of B . 
 
 At the time of his death, Robert Hill, Sr., took it much 
 to heart, especially so as he was unable even to attend the 
 burial of his oldest and staunchest friend. 
 
 The day of Matthew Howard's funeral was a general 
 holiday. All the stores were closed, the whole town turned 
 out, many came from a distance, to pay their last respects 
 to a man who in life had earned the respect of all who knew 
 him. 
 
 The little church in which the funeral services were to 
 be held could only hold a fraction of the assembled throng, 
 the greater part of the crowd having to remain outside to 
 await the forming of the procession which would follow the 
 deceased to his last resting place. 
 
 The pastor preached an appropriate sermon, dwelling 
 
22 JOY AND SORROW 
 
 at length on the many good qualities of their departed friend, 
 and the great loss the community had sustained by his un- 
 timely taking off. He referred to the public spirit Mr. 
 Howard had always displayed in everything that would 
 contribute to the welfare of their town, and closed with a 
 few feeling remarks as to the sorrowing family that was 
 left behind, especially sad, as their mother was lying in a 
 bed of sickness, stricken by the same fatal disease. 
 
 But it was not until the splendid voice of Martha Hill 
 rang out clear and strong, singing "Nearer My God to 
 Thee," that the vast audience was so impressed that people 
 wept profusely. As her magnificent voice was heard far be- 
 yond the limits of the church, the crowds outside pressed 
 forward so as not to miss a single note. 
 
 Mrs. Howard followed her departed husband ere an- 
 other week had passed. The people of the town of B 
 
 were shocked. The services were held in the same little 
 church, a similar concourse of people, a sermon by the same 
 pastor, who again spoke for the sorrowing family that had 
 been so sorely pressed. Martha Hill sang "Lead Kindly 
 Light." Her voice illumined the hearts of her listeners — it 
 seemed, as if it were an angel singing. 
 
 The whole community was proud of her. After she had 
 concluded, Rachel Howard went toward her, and wept on 
 her shoulder. Her grief for the loss of her parents, and her 
 gratitude to her friend found relief in copious tears, in 
 which Martha's mingled as they embraced. 
 
THE PARTING 23 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 THE PARTING. 
 
 The funerals over, young Matt Howard, though not of 
 age, found himself charged with the full responsibility of 
 conducting the extensive and profitable business which his 
 deceased father had left him, besides the care of the younger 
 members of the family. He had been a good son and a good 
 brother, and so faced the ordeal like a man. He would now 
 have to assume the position of head of the family. Pre- 
 vious to the death of his father and mother, he never knew 
 what care was, always gay, and, while a willing worker in 
 the store, paying little attention to the details. He knew 
 his father's capacity for business, so always awaited in- 
 structions. 
 
 Now that he had to assume managerial functions a 
 change seemed to have come over him. He was more sedate 
 and reserved as became a very busy business man. 
 
 Only to the Hills was he the same. He was always 
 pleased to have Robert spend the evening with him in the 
 store, and was glad when Martha would come in. She was 
 such good company for his sisters, who looked upon her as 
 almost one of the family. When he saw her enter, he would 
 merely say, "Good evening, Martha," or, if very busy, 
 nodded and smiled, while she made her way to the 
 cashier's desk where Rachel was installed. Occasionally, 
 Rachel might want to be relieved for a few moments. She 
 would say, "Come in here, Martha, and mind the cash for 
 me for a few minutes ; " if Matthew noticed the transfer, he 
 
24 THE PARTING 
 
 would shout, "See you don't take any bad money while 
 you're there, Martha." Martha would smile at his friendly 
 banter, while, if Bob Hill was present, he would look with 
 ardent admiration at his beautiful sister, who was the idol 
 of his heart. 
 
 One Sunday, some weeks after Matt had assumed 
 charge of the store, he waited for IMartha at the church 
 door. As leader of the choir she was delayed in giving 
 instructions to some of the younger members. She and 
 Rachel Howard came out together. 
 
 Matt placed himself in front of the two girls and said : 
 "Martha, I am going to see you home today, I want to talk 
 to you." His sister smiled and said: "Well, I suppose you 
 don't want me," and took her departure. 
 
 "No, Matthew," was Martha's reply. "You will have 
 to excuse me. I am in a great hurry. You see I am a little 
 late and will have to hurry home to help mother with the 
 dinner." 
 
 Before Matthew had time to persist in his desire of 
 seeing her home, she had turned and was on her way. He 
 felt slighted, but, gazing after her, noticed for the first time 
 that she was not dressed as well as formerly, and when he 
 looked at his sisters and a number of the other young ladies 
 who had just left the church, he recognized the difference 
 in their apparel. Not but Martha was clean and sweet and 
 the clothes she wore were neat on her, but she was shabby, 
 in comparison. It began to daAvn upon him that the circum- 
 stances of the Hills were far from prosperous. He resolved 
 to go over that evening and kind of size tilings up. He had 
 an uneasy feeling that he could not account for, namely: 
 that Martha Hill was not as kindly disposed toward him 
 as she had been formerly — why, he couldn't tell, unless 
 probably from the stress of business since he had taken 
 
THE PARTING 25 
 
 charge of the firm he had not paid as much attention to her 
 as he had done formerly, or perhaps, as he ruminated, some 
 other young fellow had come between them and she did not 
 want to be seen with him for fear of causing jealousy. 
 
 That afternoon, Martha Hill began to fill a different 
 place in his social affairs than she had ever done before. He 
 had thought of going over to the Hills' that evening, but 
 then Martha's duties in the church as soloist in the choir 
 would not allow him much time, so he resolved to defer it 
 to the following day. But before he could leave the store 
 Monday evening, Robert Hill came in. Matt saw at a glance 
 he had something on his mind. 
 
 "What's up?" said Matt, as Robert and he met at the 
 far end of the store. 
 
 "I have had some trouble with Martha," was his reply. 
 
 ''What!" 
 
 "Yes, she's made up her mind to go to Chicago and 
 seek a situation." 
 
 ' ' Ridiculous ! ' ' exclaimed Matt. " I 'd just as soon think 
 of letting Rachel go." 
 
 "Well, she seems determined. She wants to learn some 
 business. She claims there is no opportunity here. We have 
 all tried to dissuade her from it, but to no use; she says 
 she is of age now and able to take care of herself, so I don't 
 see what we can do but let her go." 
 
 "Rachel," shouted Matt, "come here." Rachel left 
 her desk and came over to where Hill and her brother were 
 standing. 
 
 ' ' What do you think ? Here 's Bob telling me that Mar- 
 tha has made up her mind to go to Chicago and seek a situa- 
 tion. I protest against it." 
 
 Rachel was visibly affected, she felt for her brother's 
 anxiety. Her woman's wit knew what it meant. 
 
26 THE PARTING 
 
 "We must dissuade her from it," remarked Rachel, 
 "Matt, you get some one to take care of the cash, and I'll 
 go right over." 
 
 When Rachel Howard returned after seeing Martha, 
 her eyes were red from crying. 
 
 "What does she say?" was Matt's eager question. 
 
 "Well, she's determined to go. I coaxed her and 
 pressed her all I could, but to no avail. All she would 
 promise me was that she would soon return, whether she 
 got a place or not." 
 
 "What is her reason for going, do you think?" he in- 
 quired anxiously. 
 
 "Well, my opinion is that they have been sorely 
 pinched. You see her father has been laid up for over a 
 year, and what with the doctor bills and their big family 
 it has been very hard on Mrs. Hill to make ends meet, and 
 Martha wants to go to Chicago and get a position so that 
 she can help them." 
 
 "Why, they must know that I am willing to help them 
 to all they may require. I am sorry, Rachel, you didn't 
 tell me this before." 
 
 "I told them, Matt, but you see the Hills have a sense 
 of pride and don't want to be under obligations to any one, 
 and as they have an account here already somewhat over- 
 due—" 
 
 "You surely have not been dunning them," said Mat- 
 thew hastily. 
 
 "No, Matt. Of course I sent the monthly bills out as 
 usual, but Martha came and mentioned to me it was not 
 convenient for her mother to pay at the time. I told her 
 to tell her mother not to mind it ; that there was no hurry 
 and that they could have all they wanted. What could I 
 do more?" 
 
THE PARTING 27 
 
 **Well, you should have told me," replied Matthew 
 petulantly. *'But surely Martha knows I wouldn't see them 
 want for anything." 
 
 ''She's the most particular of all. She would rather 
 ask a stranger than she would you ; she 's so sensitive. ' ' 
 
 "When does she talk about going?" 
 
 "By the 10:20 tomorrow. She says she is anxious 
 to get away. Her poor father's heart is broken, but, not to 
 discourage her, he says maybe it's for the best, that Martha 
 is a good girl and that there is no danger of her going astray 
 nor forgetting her home or parents." 
 
 Matthew Howard spent the most miserable night of his 
 life. He could not sleep for thinking what he should do. 
 His first impression was to openly disclose his love, and pre- 
 vent her going, even if he had to use force. 
 
 When the time came for the parting at Hills', Martha's 
 mother was inconsolable and cried bitterly, Martha tried 
 to comfort her. 
 
 "Why, mother, what are you crying for? I am only 
 going a short distance ; I can go today and be back tomor- 
 row. When I get a place, as I am sure I will, I can write 
 you every week, yes, every day if need be." 
 
 "But what if you should be sick?" said her mother 
 between her sobs. 
 
 "No danger," replied the girl confidently, "and if I 
 was," looking in the direction of her brother, "Bob could 
 get to Chicago in a couple of hours and bring me home." 
 
 Bob took no notice of Martha's suggestion. He was in 
 a sulk, having already strenuously objected to her going. 
 He stood with her bundle in his arms, waiting to see her 
 to the train. 
 
 Martha Hill assumed a much more cheerful aspect than 
 she felt, kissed her father and mother at their front door, 
 
28 THE PARTING 
 
 all the young members of the family going to see "Sis" off. 
 As she turned to go, her youngest brother and sister each 
 took one of her hands, the others following as closely as 
 they could, with Bob bringing up the rear with her bundle 
 under his arm. 
 
 As she went down the road leading to the depot, the 
 neighbors came to their doors, and, waving their hands, 
 shouted "Good bye, Martha!" or "Good luck, Martha!" or 
 "Good luck, Martha, a safe journey; wish you soon back." 
 She waved her hand and smiled at them in turn. To those 
 within easy reach of her voice, she said, "Thank you, Mrs. 
 
 ," or "Thank you, Mr. ," as the case might be. A 
 
 number of boys and girls who saw the little procession ran 
 toward her and shouted: 
 
 "Hello, Martha, going to leave us?" 
 
 "Yes, for a little while," or some other appropriate 
 reply to their remarks. 
 
 Ere she had reached the depot, quite a number got in 
 line. At the depot many of her girl friends were there in 
 advance to see her off. When she arrived they gathered 
 around her, and stood chatting with her, while awaiting 
 the arrival of the train, 
 
 A few minutes before train time, Matthew Howard came 
 running along, followed by his sister Rachel. His eagerness 
 to see Bob Hill's sister before she could get away was illus- 
 trated by the way he was walking ahead of Rachel, who 
 came some yards behind him, unable to keep the pace. 
 Reaching the group that surrounded Martha, she smiled at 
 him as he said: 
 
 "Well, Martha, you're going to leave us, I see?" 
 
 "Yes, for a time anyway." 
 
 "I am awfully sorry you're going. 
 
 "Oh, never mind," chimed in one about Martha's age, 
 
THE PARTING 29 
 
 ''we'll see you're not lonesome till she returns. Won't we 
 girls ? ' ' 
 
 "No, we'll try to cheer him up while she's away," 
 said another. Martha blushed and frowned at her. Other 
 girls tittered. 
 
 Matthew looked sheepish under the banter. 
 "Bob, I want to talk to you," at the same time beckon- 
 ing to Martha ; the three walked down the platform together. 
 The others, seeing they wanted to be alone, stood back. 
 As soon as they got out of hearing, Matthew said : 
 "Bob. I don't like this idea of Martha going away." 
 "Neither do I, but she's determined to go." 
 "Why, you would think I was going to the other end 
 of the world to hear you talk, instead of only two or three 
 hours' journey. I have told you if I don't like it I will come 
 straight back," somewhat petulantly. 
 The two men were silent. 
 
 "You know, Robert," continuing, "it is time I tried to 
 help father and mother, and there is nothing doing around 
 here." 
 
 The time for the arrival of the train past, both men saw 
 there was little use of discussing the thing further. "Well, 
 Martha," said Matt, as they turned to join the group of 
 friends who were waiting. "If you should run short don't 
 fail to notify me, that's all I'll ask of you for the present, 
 though I am sorry you are going." 
 
 "I think, Matt, we're already too much in your debt." 
 "You are not in my debt at all," replied Howard, 
 promptly. 
 
 "Oh yes, we are, Matt, but we'll pay you." 
 "No, you're not. Any differences between us Bob and 
 I can settle our two selves. You've nothing to do with it. 
 
30 THE PARTING 
 
 and Bob knows, or ought to know, that anything your peo- 
 ple want I will be only too glad to furnish." 
 
 The girl could not but smile at his eager manner. He 
 wished to show his friendship for her people. Having 
 reached the waiting friends, the conversation ceased. 
 
 The train hove in sight. Martha's girl friends gathered 
 around and began to kiss her. Martha in turn kissed her 
 little brothers and sisters and at last it came to Bob's turn. 
 He placed his arm affectionately around his sister's neck 
 and kissed her. 
 
 Matt stood a few paces back, looking very sheepish. 
 Martha extended her hand to him, he grasped it, held it a 
 moment and let it go. 
 
 "Why don't you kiss her, Matt?" said one of the girls 
 with a twinkle in her eye. 
 
 Martha placed her foot upon the step of the train, look- 
 ing at Matt as if her last glance was for him. 
 
 ''Why didn't you kiss her?" said another of the girls, 
 as if reproaching him. If she had only kissed him he would 
 have been the happiest man in life, and would have begged 
 her not to go away and leave him. As it was, he wondered 
 why he didn't detain her until the train went by. He re- 
 turned to his place of business with a sad heart. He never 
 knew how much he cared for her until she had gone. 
 
THE FATAL MEETING 31 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 THE FATAL MEETING. 
 
 As Martha Hill looked out of the window of the train 
 that was bearing her away from home and friends, she 
 tried to look cheerful. She waved her handkerchief to those 
 who still stood on the platform in return to their good-bye. 
 She noticed her brother turn away and place his handker- 
 chief to his eyes. The girls kept waving theirs until the 
 train shot around a turn in the road and was lost to view. 
 The last person Martha noticed in the group was Matthew 
 Howard*. She saw his troubled look. It made her sad. She 
 sat back in her seat and began to cry. Her heart had failed 
 her in spite of her determination to be brave. 
 
 After a time she became more composed. *'It is not 
 for long," she thought to herself. "After I get a situation 
 in a few weeks I will visit them, or maybe some of them 
 may come to see me. ' ' Matthew Howard was in her mind ; 
 much as she tried to dispel him, he loomed up before her, 
 above all the rest. "In the meantime I can write to them, 
 and they to me ; how pleasant it will be when I get my first 
 month's pay to send it home — every cent of it I can spare. 
 And then when I am in a position to pay them a visit to 
 show them how well I have succeeded." 
 
 And so she dreamed the entire journey. 
 
 It was about 1 P. M. on a fine afternoon when she 
 arrived in the great metropolis of the "West. As she left 
 the depot she was bewildered at seeing the busy throng. 
 She felt lonesome among the crowd. 
 
32 THE FATAL MEETING 
 
 For the first time in her life she was among strangers 
 in a strange city — none to advise her. She walked till she 
 came to the cross section of two streets. 
 
 She gazed at the girls as they went by; she noticed 
 their neat appearance, their style, and observed that their 
 skirts were somewhat longer than hers, which reached only 
 to the tops of her neatly laced gaiters. 
 
 For a few moments she was in doubt as to which way 
 to turn. She was looking in different directions, holding 
 her bundle under her arm, when a well dressed young fellow 
 came along. His attire was faultless, in the front of his 
 shirt shone a diamond, he had a solitaire ring on his finger, 
 his cuffs and collars were spotless, he wore a fedora hat and 
 had patent leather shoes. As he drew near he gazed at the 
 girl, she turned her eyes away so as to avert his stare ; on 
 reaching her, he stood in a very gentlemanly manner and 
 said: 
 
 "You're looking for a number. Miss?" 
 
 She stared at him for a moment before replying. 
 
 "I supposed you were looking for a number," he re- 
 iterated, "and as I am very well acquainted around here I 
 thought probably I might direct you." 
 
 "No, thank you sir, I was just thinking which way I 
 would go." 
 
 "0, indeed!" smiling. "Well, ^Nliss, that's north, that's 
 south and that direction," pointing, "is west, and over 
 there," turning around and pointing, "to the east is Lake 
 Michigan." 
 
 She smiled at seeing him so specific as to the points of 
 the compass, as she said : 
 
 "Well, you see, sir, I am a stranger here and don't 
 know which way I should turn, having just got off the 
 train." 
 
TiiK Cadkt at Work 
 
THE FATAL MEETING 33 
 
 ''Oh, well," he said, laughing, ''of course I can't direct 
 you; if I could," lifting his hat, "I would only be too 
 happy." 
 
 She looked at the nicely dressed young gentleman who 
 professed such willingness to direct her, and then said: 
 "What I want to find is some place where I can stay. I 
 have never been away from home before and am somewhat 
 awkward." 
 
 "Oh, I see. If that is all you want there are a number 
 of hotels within a block or two from here, in any of which 
 you can be accommodated. Probably you don't want to 
 select a too highly priced establishment?" 
 
 "No, sir! My means are only limited. What I want 
 is some place to stay for tonight, and tomorrow I will have 
 time, probably, to get board with some respectable family." 
 
 "Well, Miss, if you would not think it presumptuous 
 on my part, I would point out to you one or two places that 
 might suit your circumstances. It's only what I would 
 expect a gentleman to do for my sister if she found her- 
 self in a strange city." 
 
 She hesitated before accepting his proffered aid. 
 
 "I'll point them out to you, and you can make the best 
 arrangement you can. You see. Miss, this is a very big 
 city," smiling, "and you must take care you don't get lost." 
 
 She again looked at him without replying. There was 
 nothing to alarm her in his make-up, he had the appearance 
 of a gentleman, even his address was faultless, his refer- 
 ence even to his sisters indicated a friendly feeling. Ulti- 
 mately consenting to his proffered assistance, she said: 
 
 "I will be very much obliged to you if you will." 
 
 He led her toward Clark street. 
 
 "I suppose the town you came from is not quite as 
 large as this?" smiling. 
 
34 THE FATAL MEETING 
 
 "Oh no, sir, the place I come from is quite small; in 
 fact, it seems to me there are more people on the street here 
 than there are in my town altogether," laughing. 
 
 "Is that so? Then it must be a very small place." 
 
 "Yes, you see B is situated in a farming district." 
 
 "Oh, that is in Michigan, I believe? I was often in 
 Michigan, but was never there. I suppose you're only on 
 a visit?" 
 
 "No. I came to get work." 
 
 "Oh, I see! Well there's plenty of work of all kinds 
 for young women here. I suppose it's something of a cleri- 
 cal position or saleslady you'd want to be?" 
 
 "I am not particular, probably I may get a situation 
 with some family. I have some experience with housework, 
 as we have quite a family at home." 
 
 "Well, some places are pretty hard, especially where 
 they have much washing. At my house we have two girls, 
 but we send all the washing out, then it comes easier." 
 
 "Then you're a married man?" looking at him. 
 
 "Oh bless you, no! I mean the old people's home." 
 
 "I see you have brothers and sisters, I believe?" 
 
 "No brothers, only sisters; four of them, and you know 
 girls require a deal of laundrying after," smiling at her. 
 She smiled her approval in turn. 
 
 "You go in and try this place," he said, stopping in 
 front of a cheap looking hotel on Clark street. "You'll 
 only be staying for a night or two, anyway." 
 
 Martha looked at the place. It seemed very imposing 
 to her. 
 
 "How much do you think they would charge me there?" 
 
 "Well, it's on the European plan. You just sleep there 
 and eat where you like. I should say about a dollar a 
 night." 
 
 She thought for a moment as if in doubt. 
 
THE FATAL MEETING 35 
 
 "Go in and ask them," he said to her, "I'll stay here 
 until you come out. If it doesn't suit you, I'll show you 
 another place or two." 
 
 The girl went in and in a short time returned without 
 her bundle. 
 
 "I see you have made arrangements; that's good," 
 
 "Yes sir, thank you, I am sure I am very much obliged 
 to you for your kindness." 
 
 "Don't mention it. The man that wouldn't do that 
 much for a lone girl in a strange city is no man at all. When 
 do you intend to start out in search of a job?" 
 
 "I will have to begin tomorrow morning," 
 
 "Probably I could help you. If it wasn't for the two 
 girls we have at our house I would ask our old woman to 
 give you a place, but you see they're stickers. There is 
 no danger of their leaving," 
 
 She smiled as she remarked, "That's very kind of you," 
 
 "Had you just got in town when I met youf" 
 
 "Yes sir." 
 
 "Probably you have not eaten for some time, then?" 
 
 "No, not since I ate my breakfast, but I am not 
 hungry." 
 
 "Oh, that's too bad. Now there's a nice restaurant 
 close by. I suggest that you come and take a little lunch 
 and while you are eating I may make some suggestions as 
 to where you may get a place." 
 
 "No, thank you, sir. I assure you I am very much 
 obliged to you for your assistance already, but I cannot 
 impose upon your good nature." 
 
 "Come along," he said, laughing. "If you don't eat 
 you'll feel so weak you won't be able to work and people 
 who employ girls in Chicago want them to be good and 
 husky," smiling at her. 
 
36 THE FATAL MEETING 
 
 She still hesitated, but after some more pressing con- 
 sented to go. After being seated at a table arranged for 
 two, he took up the bill of fare. 
 
 "What will you take, Miss? But let me order for you. 
 I suppose you are not in the habit of dining in restaurants." 
 
 "No, sir. This is the first time I was ever away from 
 home." 
 
 He ordered a dainty meal. The girl ate with a relish — 
 she enjoyed the luncheon. He kept her in conversation 
 during the repast. 
 
 "Bye the bye. Miss," he said, smiling, "we have not 
 been introduced yet." 
 
 She laughed. "Well, my name is Martha Hill." 
 
 "And mine," he said, by way of reply, "is Henry 
 Washington." 
 
 "You have quite an historical name," she said, smiling. 
 "What do you do?" 
 
 "Well, you see, my people are old settlers. The old 
 gent has retired — he is well fixed. I'm the only boy, so have 
 it pretty easy. I intend, however, in the near future, to 
 take up some profession, but for the present I am a gentle- 
 man of leisure." 
 
 "You tell me you have four sisters?" 
 
 "Yes, two of them are older than I am; one of them is 
 going to be married to a swell this fall, so we'll get rid of 
 her. Waiter, how much do I owe you?" He hands him 
 a check for $1.30. Young Washington pulls out a roll 
 of bills, giving two dollars to the waiter, who returns him 
 his change, which he gathers from a little tray on which 
 it has been presented, leaving the two dimes as a tip. 
 
 "Thank you, sir," said the waiter, as he took his leave. 
 
 Martha Hill begins to be impressed by the offhand, 
 gentlemanly conduct of her new found acquaintance. 
 
THE FATAL MEETING 37 
 
 ''Now, Miss Hill, if you would allow me to smoke a 
 cigaret we'll go." 
 
 She nods and smiles, while he lights his cigaret. 
 
 "I suppose you have brothers and sisters too?" he said 
 between the puffs. 
 
 "Yes, my brother Robert's the oldest. There are five 
 younger than I am." 
 
 "Father and mother living?" 
 
 "Yes, but father has been troubled with rheumatism 
 so long that Robert has to take care of the family. You 
 see there are no places for girls in our town, so I came to 
 Chicago to get a situation, so that I can help them. Do 
 you think I will have any trouble to get a place?" 
 
 "None whatever. There are plenty of opportunities 
 for girls like you here." 
 
 "I am pleased to hear you say that, as I was a little 
 anxious." 
 
 "You needn't be. I'll probably get my old man to 
 speak for you. Come, let us be going. Now as I have notii- 
 ing to do this afternoon, I'll show you a little of the city." 
 
 "I am afraid to go too far away from the hotel, for 
 fear I wouldn't find my way back." 
 
 "Oh, I'll bring you back. You needn't be afraid." 
 
 After strolling through the downton district for over 
 a couple of hours, she was impressed with the wonders she 
 saw — the busy streets, the crowded sidewalks, the rushing 
 street cars, the large buildings. 
 
 "Dear me, I am surprised a great many people are not 
 
 run over 
 
 I" 
 
 ' ' There are lots run over, Miss. You have to keep your 
 eyes and ears open in Chicago or you're a goner." 
 
 "It seems that way to me. Aren't those beautiful 
 stores? I would like to get a place in one of them." 
 
38 THE FATAL MEETING 
 
 "Well, we'll go through this one. You'll see how they 
 run it." 
 
 "Those ladies must have nice salaries," she remarked 
 as they went through the store. 
 
 "Some of them. My old man is a friend of the proprie- 
 tors here. I'll have him talk for you." 
 
 "I wish you would. I am sure I would like to get a 
 place in a store like this." 
 
 "Well, Martha, I'll talk to him. Come now, I am get- 
 ting tired. I'll take you for a car ride. You may as well 
 make an afternoon of it." 
 
 Her hope of his aid in securing her a place led her to 
 consent to go, but not without some misgivings as to the 
 propriety of her accompanying a total stranger. 
 
 He took her to Lincoln Park, where he showed her the 
 animals — none of which were more ferocious than the wolf 
 into whose hands she fell an easy victim. 
 
 'Twas dark when they left the park. A supper in a 
 north side restaurant, where wines and liquors were sold, 
 followed. 
 
 "Did you ever drink any wine?" 
 
 "Yes, mother used to make some." 
 
 "Well, I will have to buy you a little glass of port to 
 see if you can tell the difference." 
 
 After it was brought Martha Hill remarked : 
 
 "It is sweeter than what mother made." 
 
 "It is better too, I guess," smiling, and lighting a 
 cigaret. 
 
 "Don't you think it's about time I should be going?" 
 
 "In a few moments. I want to smoke another cigaret. 
 You'd better go to the ladies' toilet and wash your hands. 
 You look a little mussed up after the day." 
 
THE FATAL MEETING 39 
 
 She felt glad at his timely suggestion, and the manner 
 in which he had proposed it. While she was gone he or- 
 dered two port wines. As soon as the waiter turned his 
 back he dropped a little powder into hers, and stirred it 
 around with a lead pencil. 
 
 She returned radiant, having washed and smoothed 
 her hair, the bloom of youth was on her cheek. 
 
 ''Now you look better," smiling at her. 
 
 "Let us be going," she replied, paying no attention to 
 his compliment. 
 
 "I have ordered another glass of wine for you." 
 
 "I think I should not drink it." 
 
 "Why, that's only the second. Sit down a minute." 
 He lit another cigaret, and she sipped at the wine. 
 
 "That's not as nice as the first." 
 
 He sips at his. "A little sourer, that's all." 
 
 She drinks the fatal draught. 
 
 "Let us be going," she says with some impatience. 
 
 "Wait a moment until I finish another cigaret. No, I 
 think I'll try a cigar. Here, waiter, bring me a cigar." 
 The cigar is brought, he lights it. 
 
 "Hurry, let us be going." 
 
 "Wait till I have smoked my cigar. Will you have 
 another glass of wine?" 
 
 "No, that last didn't agree with me." 
 
 "Then let us be going." They walked along North 
 Clark street. After walking a few blocks, she said: 
 
 "I don't feel well. I am quite dizzy." 
 
 "Then I must hire a cab." 
 
 She leaned heavily on his arm, while he hailed a passing 
 cabman. He placed her in the cab, where she fell back on 
 the rear seat. 
 
40 THE FATAL MEETING 
 
 "Drive to Madam , Custom House place. You 
 
 know the house?" 
 *'Yes, sir." 
 
 "Drive around to the rear." 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
SOLD, AND PAID FOR 41 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 SOLD, AND PAID FOR. 
 
 Ike Rosenthal, alias Henry Washington, knocked at the 
 door of Sadie Blomgarten's bedroom. There was no answer. 
 He knocked again. Still no answer. The third time he 
 knocked he waited a few moments. There being no reply, 
 he pushed the door open and went in. Madam Blomgarten 
 was sound asleep. He placed his hand on her shoulder and 
 shook her. She looked up at him. 
 
 ''What do you want, Ike? Why don't you let me 
 sleep?" 
 
 "I want my money." 
 
 "Why can't you wait till I get up?" 
 
 "Oh, I don't want to stay here till you get up. Come 
 give me the dough and let me get out of here." 
 
 "What a hurry you're in. I didn't get to bed until 
 four o'clock. What time is it?" 
 
 "Seven. Come shake yourself and give me my money." 
 
 "How much do you want?" 
 
 "Seventy-five dollars." 
 
 "I can't afford it, you ought to be satisfied with fifty." 
 
 "No, not a cent less than seventy-five. She's cheap at 
 that. If I had taken her to Dutch Meg's I could have got 
 a hundred for her." 
 
 "You're a regular Shylock. Won't sixty do?" 
 
 "No! not a cent less than seventy-five. She's a catch. 
 Just from the country." 
 
 "Wait till I get up." 
 
42 SOLD, AND PAID FOR 
 
 "Well, get up now. I've no time to waste." 
 
 The madam sat on the side of the bed. "You're sure 
 she's a stranger?" 
 
 "Right in off the train." 
 
 "Oh, dear, what a head I have and you come and waken 
 me, just when I was sound asleep. You're a brute." She 
 put her hand under the mattress at the head of her bed 
 and pulled out a roll of bills and counted sixty-five dollars. 
 "There!" giving it to him. 
 
 "Come on now, ten more." She demurred, but, he per- 
 sisting, she gave it to him, at the same time telling him to 
 get out. At that moment there was a piercing scream heard 
 that rang through the building. 
 
 "That's her, I suppose," as he put the money with a 
 roll of bills in his pocket. 
 
 "Tell Mugsy to attend to her, as you go out. I must 
 try and get a few hours sleep," rolling into bed. Ike told 
 Mugsy, and then went his way. 
 
 "When Martha Hill awoke she had an intense pain in 
 her head. She looked up at the ceiling. It was slanting 
 like the roof. She gave a start, turning in the bed as if to 
 see if she had a companion. On the other pillow there was 
 the impression of a head as if some one had lain there. The 
 clothes were turned up as if someone had recently left. She 
 started again and removing the clothes from her breast, she 
 saw she was naked. She jumped out of bed and ran to the 
 slanting window on the i-oof. It was barred. She ran to 
 try the door. It was locked. She looked around to seek her 
 clothing. Not a stitch of her raiment was to be found. She 
 screamed in her fright. She tried the handle of the door 
 again, and screamed. She ran to the window. It was 
 securely boarded. She screamed again. At this moment 
 
SOLD, AND PAID FOR 43 
 
 a policeman was walking past the front of the house, wav- 
 ing his club. 
 
 "What's that one shouting at?" he said to a colored 
 woman who was washing the marble steps, 
 
 *'0, a couple of the girls have been having a scrap; 
 one of them's full, and she's got the worst of it." 
 
 "It's a wonder they wouldn't put a wisp in her mouth," 
 he said as he passed by, and turned into the next saloon. 
 
 The girl in the attic continued to scream. She heard 
 footsteps climbing the stairs. She stood as did Eve before 
 the fall, to see who was unlocking the door. A low-browed, 
 coarse man entered. She ran to the bed, and covered her- 
 self up. 
 
 * ' What the hell are you shouting about ? " he said, look- 
 ing fiercely at her. "Do you want to waken up the whole 
 house?" 
 
 Her teeth were chattering — she couldn't reply. 
 
 "What are you yelling at?" going toward the bed and 
 pulling the clothes off her. 
 
 "Oh mister, why am I here?" trembling in every limb. 
 
 "We didn't bring you here," he growled. "You came 
 yourself and brought a bloke with you." 
 
 "No! Oh no! I didn't bring anyone with me!" 
 
 "What are you giving us?" he snarled. 
 
 "Oh no, sir, I didn't bring anyone with me. I don't 
 know how I came here." 
 
 "Well, you lie still there, and don't be making such a 
 fuss, or I'll find a way to quiet you." 
 
 "Where are my clothes?" 
 
 He looked around as if in search of them. "That bloke 
 you brought here with you last night must have taken them 
 away with him." 
 
44 SOLD, AND PAID FOR 
 
 ''Oh, my God!" she exclaimed, as she laid her head on 
 the pillow and wept. 
 
 "You lie still there," as he was going toward the door. 
 
 "Is there no woman in this house?" she inquired as 
 she saw him going. 
 
 "Yes, but there's none of them up yet." 
 
 "Will you send one of them to me?" she entreated. 
 
 "There'll be none of them up for a couple of hours 
 yet," he growled, as he went out, pulling the door after 
 him and locking it. 
 
 She lay shivering, crying, and moaning on the bed. 
 It Avas near midday when she heard the key turn in the 
 door ; a woman entered — she was large and wore a dressing 
 gown. 
 
 "Well, what's the matter?" she said, as she entered. 
 
 "Oh, madam, are you mistress of this house?" 
 
 ' ' Yes, what can I do for you ? ' ' 
 
 "How came I here? Tell me!" 
 
 "Well you and your husband came here last night, as 
 I understand." 
 
 "I have no husband. It's some cruel mistake." 
 
 "Well, you passed him off as your husband, and seemed 
 to be very friendly with him." 
 
 "You know that's not true; I wasn't friendly with any- 
 one. I did meet a young man yesterday, but I don't know 
 him at all. He was a stranger to me." 
 
 "Well you and him seemed to get on very well to- 
 gether when you came, and engaged this room," 
 
 "Don't! Don't tell me that! Where is he now?" 
 
 "He said when he was going away he would be back 
 for 3'ou this evening. He had a large bundle with him 
 when he left." 
 
 "Where are my clothes?" 
 
SOLD, AND PAID FOR 45 
 
 ''My man tells me he believes he took them away with 
 him." 
 
 "Well, where is the bundle I left here yesterday?" 
 
 "You left no bundle here yesterday. When you came 
 here at nine o'clock, you had no bundle." 
 
 "Don't be so cruel as to tell me that; no man would 
 leave me here. Oh, madam, let me write to my parents, my 
 brothers, and tell them what has happened. Do, for God's 
 sake, do!" 
 
 "I can't do that till I hear from your fellow tonight; 
 he even left without paying the room rent." 
 
 ' ' I implore you to help me. I am a lone girl in a strange 
 city. Do, and heaven will bless you." 
 
 "Heaven won't pay this room rent, and I can't be im- 
 posed upon." 
 
 "I appeal to you as to a mother, on my knees." Get- 
 ting out of the bed and falling on her knees, she hung onto 
 the woman's skirts. 
 
 "No use of you talking, you will have to wait until 
 your husband, or whoever he is, comes this evening. I can't 
 afford to have a scandal around my place, so you'll have to 
 content yourself;" rising to go. 
 
 "Don't leave me, I implore you. Help me, and my 
 friends will reward you." 
 
 "I'll send you up something to eat. That's all I can 
 do for you at present, and I don't know who is going to 
 pay me." 
 
 ' ' Let me write to my people. They will pay you every- 
 thing." 
 
 "Well, I will see, but you have no clothes." 
 
 "You can let me have some until I hear from my 
 parents. Telegraph for me and my brother will be here 
 tomorrow. ' ' 
 
46 SOLD, AND PAID FOR 
 
 ''Talk is cheap. How am I going to know whether you 
 have a brother or not? I'm going to wait till I see if your 
 fellow shows up." 
 
 She hung onto the woman's skirt. She pleaded in vain. 
 
 "Come, don't be wasting my time. I've told you what 
 I'll do. Let go my dress. I'll send you up something to 
 eat." 
 
 "I don't want to eat." 
 
 "Well, that's your business," as she went out, locking 
 the door behind her. 
 
 Martha went back to the bed. She swooned, and for 
 a time was oblivious to her surroundings. 
 
 A colored woman came in, carrying a tray on which 
 there was a cup of tea and some bread and butter. She 
 pulled a chair over near the bed, placing the tray on it, 
 and left the room. 
 
 How long she lay unconscious, Martha never knew. 
 She awoke and looked around to see if it was but a fitful 
 dream. She realized the horrible situation. She was too 
 weak to scream. The shades of night fell. She was alone in 
 the dark, she could do nothing but bemoan her fate. After 
 a time, she heard a piano playing, and sounds of laughter 
 downstairs. She arose, and staggered to the door to listen. 
 Her tongue cleft to the roof of her mouth. She couldn't 
 utter a sound. She went and lay down on the bed. Again 
 she felt as if she was about to die — she hoped that she 
 might. At last exhausted nature came to her relief, and she 
 slept — how long she didn't know. When she awoke, all was 
 dark, but the sound of revelry could be heard from below. 
 She groped for the tray. She reached the cup, she had to 
 drink. She lay back on the bed. All hope had fled. After 
 a while the colored woman came to remove the tray. She 
 had a candle in her hand. She looked at the girl lying on 
 
;.- tioKeijvoifVC^'.biOf? 
 
 Thk VicriM 
 
SOLD, AND PAID FOR 47 
 
 the bed. The girl's eyes were open; her stare was vacant. 
 The colored woman reported to her mistress that the girl up 
 in the attic was in bad shape. 
 
 "Well, you and Mugsy must go and give her something 
 to soothe her. She'll be all right in the morning." 
 
 ;Mugsy and the negress came into the attic. 
 
 "How are you now?" inquired the ruffian. 
 
 Martha made no reply. 
 
 He beckoned to the negress who, stooping over her, 
 pinioned her arms. The girl felt a stinging pain in her arm. 
 She screamed. 
 
 "There now, that will do you good," he said. "Per- 
 haps your fellow will turn up soon. Lie down." The col- 
 ored woman placed the clothes over her breast and should- 
 ers. They then left her alone. 
 
48 THE AVHITE SLAVE 
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 THE WHITE SLAVE. 
 
 When she awoke the morning after, she gazed up at 
 the ceiling, the same dismal surroundings confronted her. 
 She looked at the chair by her bedside, and saw that 
 some one had been in the room while she slept, as a jug of 
 tea, a plate with toast, and a glass with amber-colored liquid 
 rested on a tray on the chair. She smelled of the liquid in 
 the glass. She hoped it might be poison, but judged it was 
 whiskey or brandy — she could not tell which. She laid it 
 down, and, clasping her hands together, prayed that God 
 in his mercy might take her. She felt weak. She extended 
 her hand, and drank some of the tea, and took a mouthful 
 of the bread. She lay back on the bed and covered herself 
 up. She felt cold, her teeth began to chatter. She betliought 
 herself that the liquor might warm her — she drank some of 
 it, and lay down to think. She couldn't think — she couldn't 
 cry ! Despair had dried the fount ; her heart was chilled. 
 She knew not what time it was, Tlie sun's rays shone 
 bright through the attic window, casting a ray of light on 
 the floor. She listened. The door was being unlocked. 
 The woman she had seen the day before entered. The girl 
 merely looked at her. 
 
 "Well, how are you this morning? That fellow of yours 
 never turned up after all. Tm afraid he is going to desert 
 you. ' ' 
 
 "All seem to have deserted me," 
 
 "Well, you can't say 1 have. I sent you up some .sup- 
 
THE WHITE SLAVE 49 
 
 per, and yonr breakfast, and a drink. I see you haven't 
 drunk it all." 
 
 "No, I don't want it. I am cold. Can't you give me 
 some night clothes, and let me send to my father and 
 mother?" 
 
 "You'd be in a nice position to send to your father and 
 mother, and tell them you had picked up a fellow in Chi- 
 cago and spent the night with him in a rooming house." 
 
 "I don't care. My parents would believe me." 
 
 "Rot! They wouldn't believe anything you'd say. I 
 would have to tell them the truth." 
 
 The girl commenced to cry. 
 
 "Well, then tell the authorities," she said, amidst her 
 tears. "Go bring a policeman. I will explain everything to 
 him." 
 
 "I would look nice to bring a policeman in here and 
 have a sensation. What's your name?" 
 
 "Martha Hill. My father lives at B , Michigan. 
 
 My brother lives with him. He will come, if you only send 
 for them." 
 
 "I'll see. I must leave you now, but I will send you 
 up some dinner, and will be back in an hour or so, and talk 
 business to you." She left, carefully locking the door after 
 her. 
 
 A short time after the colored woman entered, carrying 
 a tray on which was a small teapot, some bread and butter, 
 a plate of meat and potatoes, and a glass of spirits. 
 When she entered the door, she locked it on the inside, plac- 
 ing the key in her pocket. The girl on the bed watched her 
 every movement. She removed the tray that she had brought 
 up in the morning, and substituted the one she brought 
 with her. 
 
50 THE WHITE SLAVE 
 
 "Get up, I want to make this bed," she said, placing 
 another chair for the girl to sit on. The girl arose. 
 
 "Throw this over your shoulders," tossing the coun- 
 terpane to her. She proceeded to make the bed, while the 
 famished girl began to eat. The bed made, the colored 
 woman took the tray she had brought with her in the morn- 
 ing, the jug and the plate, the brandy that still remained 
 in the glass she poured into the one she had just left, and 
 retired without exchanging another word. 
 
 It was considerable time after, when the mistress of 
 the house entered her room. She saw that the girl had 
 eaten, and di-unk some of the tea. 
 
 "You didn't take your drink, I see." 
 
 "No, I don't want it." 
 
 "Well, it would do you good, and would put life into 
 you." 
 
 The girl made no reply. 
 
 "Now, you talk about wanting some night clothes?" 
 
 "Yes. Can you lend me some?" 
 
 "Why, girl, my things wouldn't fit you." 
 
 "Well, there are some girls in the house, Yom* daugh- 
 ters, perhaps. Couldn't you ask one of them to lend me 
 some?" 
 
 "I have no daughters. They are only boarders, and I 
 could not ask them. But, I tell you what I will do : 1 '11 buy 
 you some while I'm out, and you can pay me back when 
 you get some money." 
 
 "How am I to get money to pay you back, until I can 
 get out to earn some, or I hear from my people?" 
 
 "Well, never mind. "While I am out, I will buy you a 
 few things, and I will tell yo\i how to get the money. I 
 won't be gone over a couple of hours." 
 
THE WHITE SLAVE 51 
 
 ' ' What kind of a house is this ? ' ' inquired the girl, rais- 
 ing herself in the bed. 
 
 "You'll soon find out," said the woman, as she pre- 
 pared to leave. 
 
 It was near dusk, when the colored woman entered, 
 carrying a paper box under her arm, and a slop basin in her 
 hand. She laid the box down, and, removing the slops, 
 said: 
 
 "I am going to bring you up some water to wash you." 
 
 The girl could do nothing but stare at her, as she took 
 her leave, locking the door, as usual, behind her. In a short 
 time she returned with a jug containing warm water, wash- 
 basin, soap, towel, comb and brush. A looking-glass already 
 hung on the wall. 
 
 "Now get up and wash yourself. There are some 
 clothes in the box madam has sent you." 
 
 As soon as the negress had taken her departure, the 
 girl arose and opened the box. It contained a chemise, a 
 pair of light blue stockings long enough to come above the 
 knees — the tag attached was marked five dollars; a pair 
 of red silk garters with clasps marked two dollars, and a 
 pair of light blue slippers, a light blue like the stockings, 
 with high red heels, marked four dollars. The girl looked 
 at them in wonder. "What do I want with those?" she 
 said to herself. "Surely this is a mistake." She put the 
 stockings, slippers and garters back in the box. She washed 
 herself, carefully combed her hair, and put on the chemise. 
 In spite of the agony of her heart she felt some relief. 
 
 The colored woman returned shortly after she had com- 
 pleted her toilet, bringing a tray on which were some eat- 
 ables, and a glass containing liquor. 
 
 "Those things are not for me," said the girl, pointing 
 to the box. 
 
52 . THE WHITE SLAVE 
 
 "They're what the madam sent up," replied the woman, 
 gathering up some empty dishes and placing them on a tray. 
 
 "Madam will be up in a short while, and you can talk 
 to her about them." She took her departure. The girl 
 stared at her until she heard the key turn in the lock. 
 
 It was long after dark when the mistress of the house 
 entered the attic. She had a candle-stick in her hand. By 
 the light of the candle the girl could see she was dressed in 
 evening costume. Her raiment seemed of the costliest char- 
 acter. She had many rings on her fingers, a diamond brooch 
 on her breast, and a pair of long pendant earrings in her 
 ears, a diamond sparkling on the front of each of them. 
 The girl looked at her in astonishment. 
 
 "Well, how are you, my dear?" she said, seating her- 
 self on the bed. "I see a marked improvement in you. That 
 is a very nice undergarment I bought 3'ou," placing her 
 hand on the lace that covered the girl's bust. 
 
 "Yes, but I didn't want you to buy me anything so 
 costly, and what are those things in the box for? I am sure 
 I don't want them." 
 
 "0 yes, you do," she said, smiling. "Did you try 
 them on?" 
 
 "No. I have no use for them." 
 
 "Come now, don't be foolish. You'll want them. Why, 
 you'll look swell in them." 
 
 "But I don't want to look swell." 
 
 "What! Have you no pride?" 
 
 "No, you should have bought me a petticoat and a 
 dress and a pair of shoes so that I might have gone out and 
 sought a situation, so that I could have paid you back." 
 
 "Never mind the situation. You'll soon l)e a])le to pay 
 me back. There is a gentleman coming to see you tonight. 
 
THE WHITE SLAVE 53 
 
 He is a first-class, generous fellow. Probably he will be able 
 to do something for you. See and treat him nicely." 
 
 "I don't want to see any gentleman! Who is he?" 
 
 "Wait till you meet him. You'll find him all right." 
 
 The girl was bewildered for an answer, 
 
 "I see you haven't taken the drink I sent. You had 
 better take some of it. You'll want to keep up your strength. 
 Come, take a drink," picking up the glass and placing it 
 to the girl's mouth. 
 
 "No, don't ask me to drink that!" 
 
 "Well, you'll have to take some of it," looking sternly 
 at the girl. "I can't have you sick on my hands." 
 
 The girl opened her mouth to take a sip. The woman 
 forced her to take a good drink of the raw brandy, which 
 burned her mouth, and brought on a violent fit of coughing, 
 
 "Now I'm going to leave you." As she left, the sound 
 of piano playing vibrated throughout the room. She could 
 hear voices and laughter below. After a time she fell 
 asleep, and dreamed of home, the happy, virtuous home she 
 had left. She saw her father smoking his pipe in the cor- 
 ner, her mother sewing. Bob, her big brother, reading a 
 book, the younger children playing a game on the table. 
 She was siding away the dishes that had been used at the 
 supper table. She awoke with a smile on her countenance. 
 She heard the key turning in her attic prison. The colored 
 woman was ushering a man into the attic. He was a large, 
 showily-dressed fellow, wearing a thick heavy gold chain 
 across his breast. He had two large rings on one of the 
 fingers of his right hand, a diamond stud in his breast. 
 The colored woman placed the lighted candle on a chair. 
 
 "Knock when you want to go," she said as she retired, 
 locking the door behind her. 
 
54 THE WHITE SLAVE 
 
 He pulled a chair up close to the bed. "How do you 
 do this evening, Miss?" grinning at her. 
 
 She stared at him without replying. 
 
 "You're not very sociable?" he remarked. 
 
 Her heart began to pulsate rapidly. "What do you 
 want?" she cried, her breath coming fast. 
 
 He laughed. "You know what I want. I am going to 
 spend the night with you. You'll find me a pretty good sort 
 of fellow." 
 
 She was speechless ; hope had fled, she was incapable of 
 resistance. As he was ready to leave in the morning, he 
 placed a ten-dollar bill on the pillow beside her, and, taking 
 her head in his hands, placed his foul mouth to hers, and 
 kissed her. She turned, and, observing the ten-dollar bill 
 on the pillow beside her, brushed it off as if it was some 
 loathsome insect. It fell to the floor. 
 
INITIATED 55 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 INITIATED. 
 
 The following day, the negress brought her breakfast, 
 leaving it on the chair beside her. There was a glass con- 
 taining spirits. 
 
 ' ' I am going to bring you up some water, to wash your- 
 self." 
 
 The girl was silent. She knew an appeal to the colored 
 woman would avail her nothing. She ate some of the food, 
 and took a drink of the spirits; her exhausted condition 
 prompted her. 
 
 In a short time, the colored woman returned with water 
 and towels. After removing the slops, and cleaning out the 
 handbasin which had been used by the man, she said, "Get 
 up now, and wash yourself." The girl showed an inclina- 
 tion to lie. 
 
 ' ' Come, get up ! " the negress said, stripping the clothes 
 from her. The girl arose and proceeded to do as told. 
 
 "Give yourself a good wash," said the colored woman, 
 as she left, taking the tray and tin slop pail with her, care- 
 fully locking the door as she left. 
 
 The sun was high in the heavens when the mistress of 
 the house entered the prison chamber. "How are you now, 
 my dear ? Your gentleman friend who visited you last night 
 spoke well of you. He said you were a very nice girl, and 
 he is coming to see you again." She noticed the ten-dollar 
 bill lying on the floor where the girl had pushed it. Pick- 
 
56 INITIATED 
 
 ing it up, she said, ''Well, this is pretty good. I told you 
 he was a generous fellow." 
 
 The girl had no reply to make to her comments. 
 
 "How long are you going to keep me here?" she in- 
 quired. 
 
 "That depends upon yourself. You see I have laid out 
 a considerable amount on you already, and I must get it 
 back. I will put five dollars of this to your credit." 
 
 "I don't want those things in the box." 
 
 "Well they won't take them back, so you will have to 
 pay for them. ' ' 
 
 "You have me a prisoner here. Why do you detain 
 me?" 
 
 "You wouldn't expect me to let you go owing me 
 money? You must think I'm easy." 
 
 The girl started to weep. 
 
 "I must go," said the woman. "It is now luncheon 
 time and the boarders will be waiting. I will send you up 
 some dinner." She retired without another word. 
 
 Martha Hill lay in the attic for nearly a week. She had 
 many visitors — flashily dressed red-faced animals, saloon- 
 keepers, bartenders, and gamblers — the class that Madam 
 Blomgarten could rely upon to break in her tyros. They 
 were safe men, thoroughly reliable and in harmony with her 
 methods and calling. 
 
 Broken in spirit, her strength failing, Martha made a 
 pitiful appeal to the woman to take her out of the place 
 where she lay. 
 
 "How are you going to do without clothes?" 
 
 "You must get me some. I'll die if you keep me here." 
 
 "Now, you shouldn't expect me to do too much for you. 
 I don't feel like trusting you." 
 
INITIATED 57 
 
 "You may trust me. If you let me go, I won't betray 
 you." 
 
 "Well, you must stay for a time anyway, I think you 
 are doing very nicely, and will soon have lots of friends." 
 
 "I don't want such friends." 
 
 "0 come now, girls like you who pick up fellows on the 
 street, and get gay with them, all say the same." 
 
 "I have told you I did not pick anyone up on the 
 street. ' ' 
 
 "Well, then, he picked you up, and you came willingly 
 with him. That's the same thing." 
 
 To this argument she had no reply. 
 
 "I'll tell you what I'll do," she said. "I will furnish 
 you clothes and you can come down and stay with the 
 boarders, if you will promise not to leave until you pay me 
 what you owe." 
 
 There was no other alternative, the girl bowed her 
 acquiescence, prompted by a prospect to escape. 
 
 That same afternoon the keeper of the house entered 
 the room with some clothing on her arm. There was a clean 
 chemise with elaborate lace around the neck, similar to the 
 one she was wearing, a corset, two petticoats, one Avhite with 
 lace round the skirt, and a silk gauze shirt as thin as spider's 
 web, and nearly as transparent as glass. The girl looked at 
 it — she had never seen anything like it before. 
 
 "What is that for?" she inquired, looking at the madam 
 holding it up for her inspection. 
 
 "This is only worn on state occasions. All our board- 
 ers wear them." 
 
 "Is it an outer garment?" 
 
 "No, you innocent, it's an inner garment. One you 
 wear next your skin. I am not going to ask you to wear it 
 
58 INITIATED 
 
 to begin with, but you will like it after a time. You'll fiud 
 it very attractive." 
 
 ''This dress I have borrowed from one of the ladies 
 here who is about your size. I have given an order to our 
 dressmaker to come and measure you for one. Now gather 
 up your things and I will show you your room. 
 
 The girl, only too eager to leave her prison, began 
 to put on the clothes. 
 
 "0 you needn't mind. You can dress yourself in your 
 room." 
 
 She followed the woman down a flight of stairs. They 
 passed Mugsy in the passage. He nodded and smiled ap- 
 provingly to the girl, who was in her chemise, carrying some 
 of her things on her arm. 
 
 The room she was shown to looked into a yard in the 
 rear. At her first glance she noticed the bars before the 
 windows. The room was well furnished — a brass bed, a 
 dresser with wash stand, a clothes closet, two chairs, a rocker 
 and a lounge. 
 
 "I hope this will suit 3'ou," said the madam approv- 
 ingly. "There is a bath room on this floor. I will show it 
 to you while I am here. Come this way." They again 
 passed Mugsy, who seemed to be loitering in the passage 
 without any seeming object. 
 
 ''Now, give yourself a good bath," said the woman. 
 "I know you need it, and when supper is ready I will come 
 for you and introduce you to the young ladies in the house. 
 I am sure you will like them. You will fiud you are in a 
 first-class place. We don't allow 'pikers' around here." 
 
 The girl, only too eager, availed herself of the advan- 
 tages of the bath. ]\Iugsy was still in the passage when she 
 came from the bath room. She dressed herself. The only 
 stockings or slippers she had were those in the box. She 
 
INITIATED 59 
 
 put them on and sat down to await being called for supper. 
 A few minutes past six, the madam entered her room, 
 
 ' ' You look charming, my dear, A little pale ; let me 
 help you." Going to a box in which there was rouge and a 
 puff, she put a little on the girl's cheeks, *'Now that's 
 better," she remarked, looking at the girl she was pre- 
 paring for a life of shame. ''Now, remember, all the girls 
 here are known under different names than their own. You 
 are Miss Clementina Montague. That is a little more aris- 
 tocratic," she said, smiling, "than plain Martha Hill," The 
 girl listened in silence to all her mistress's instructions, 
 
 "Follow me." The madam led her down a stair which 
 was nicely carpeted. The statue of a nude woman holding 
 a lamp in her hand stood in a niche at the bottom. Reach- 
 ing the landing she saw what she judged was the front door 
 leading to the street. A colored man sat on a chair beside 
 it. Down another flight of stairs they reached the dining 
 room, where some sixteen other women were already seated, 
 most of them en dishabille. "Girls," said the madam, "let 
 me introduce you to Miss Clementina Montague." The 
 women nodded to her. She stared vacantly at the array of 
 harlots, some of them younger than herself. 
 
 "You'll sit next to me, Clementina," said the woman, 
 taking her seat at the head of the table. Martha dropped 
 into a chair beside her. Madam touched a bell. Supper was 
 brought in. The fare was of the best, but Martha felt too 
 sick to eat. 
 
 Supper over at the bagnio, the women and girls left to 
 prepare their toilet — to paint and powder; the elder ones 
 to obscure the ravages that their calling had effected in 
 their appearance. Clementina Montague remained in the 
 dining room to await her owner's pleasure, her toilet being 
 already made. 
 
60 INITIATED 
 
 "Now, my dear," said the madam, addressing her, "I 
 hope you will be agreeable this evening. I intend to intro- 
 duce you to some nice people. I don't want you to hobnob 
 with every Tom, Dick, and Harry that comes here. (Such 
 recommendation was unnecessary to poor Martha, who 
 dreaded conversation with anyone.) Of course, I expect 
 you to be sociable with all my patrons." 
 
 The tyro remained silent. 
 
 "I would ask you to take a little brandy," continued 
 the madam, "only there will be some drink in the parlors, 
 and, of course, you will have to accept some from the gentle- 
 men." 
 
 The sound of a piano being played in the parlor became 
 audible. 
 
 "Come, now, Clementina. I see it is near eight o'clock, 
 and our guests will soon begin to arrive." 
 
 The old She Wolf arose, the lamb followed her to the 
 den. After ascending the stairs and going along the passage 
 leading to the front of the building, Martha Hill observed 
 the colored man at the front door. 
 
 Madam Blomgarten, who was in advance, signalled to 
 her protege to remain at the parlor door, while she went 
 and spoke to the doorkeeper. After whispering a few words 
 to him, he scrutinized Martha Hill very carefully as if to 
 impress her personality on his mind. He nodded to his 
 mistress, who, retracing her steps, conducted her protege 
 into the parlor where about a dozen women and girls had 
 already assembled, the former dressed in silks and satins, 
 with an elaborate display of jewelry. Some of the younger 
 girls wore short dresses that came just below their knees 
 to give them a distinctively youthful appearance. 
 
 Three young swells who were talking to the girls smiled, 
 and nodded to the madam when she entered. 
 
INITIATED 61 
 
 The madam sat down on a seat fronting the entrance 
 to the parlor, beckoning Martha to sit beside her. The piano 
 kept playing. The three young men rose from their seats, 
 three of the girls they had been talking to stood up, the 
 piano player turned around, and, seeing the position of the 
 six people on the floor, commenced a waltz. 
 
 A few stragglers came in between the hour of nine and 
 ten. Most of them singled out the woman or girl they were 
 acquainted with and sat talking to her awhile. Some bought 
 beer, paying a dollar a bottle for it. 
 
 The madam condescended to take a drink with some 
 of her patrons. 
 
 Martha Hill sat wearied at the unwholesome sight. 
 'Twas repulsive to her. She saw those of whom she was 
 becoming an associate retire with their partners, and in a 
 brief time return, the man going his way, her fellow boarder 
 returning to the parlor to await another visitor who desired 
 to revel in her charms. 
 
 After eleven P. M. visitors became more numerous. 
 Madam Blomgarten left her seat to talk to some of them, 
 who seemed not desirous of entering the parlor. When such 
 arrived she beckoned to or called the attention of some of 
 her staff that they were wanted. The woman or girl tripped 
 away to see who required her. 
 
 Some there came who, judging by the way they sur- 
 veyed the surroundings, were strangers. The madam dis- 
 cerned them at a glance. Her experienced eye told her they 
 were new to her establishment. To these she was most at- 
 tentive, going to meet them at the parlor door. If they 
 showed any hesitancy to enter, she chatted and smiled with 
 them for a few moments, and then invited them in. 
 
 If they were of substantial appearance she sat beside 
 
62 INITIATED 
 
 them, and, beckoning to a corresponding number of her un- 
 employed to come over, she introduced the girls to them. 
 
 The names of visitors not being mentioned, if any of 
 the gentlemen introduced themselves or companions by 
 name, the madam paid little attention to their cognomens, 
 as she judged they were fictitious. After staying until the 
 drink was ordered and brought, she would take a sip, and, 
 after hoping the}^ would enjoy themselves, take her leave to 
 again join Martha Hill, who was wearied of the entertain- 
 ment. 
 
 It was near twelve o'clock, when the sound of carriage 
 wheels could be heard at the door. The madam heard the 
 door open, when a gentleman entered. He gave a glance 
 into the parlor and walked toward the stairs. 
 
 Madam Blomgarten bounced from her s«at, and fol- 
 lowed him. He stood, she looked into his face and smiled. 
 
 "My dear Mr. Dent, how are you?" she said, extending 
 her hand. Dent was a man past the half century. He might 
 have been sixty. He was well groomed, and dressed as be- 
 came a man of means. 
 
 "Fairly well. How are you? I see you have a crowd 
 here tonight." 
 
 "Yes, but I have something choice for you. A lovely 
 girl, fresh from the country. She's as innocent and as 
 tender as a chicken. I hardly think I should introduce her 
 to you. Some of my girls tell me you are very exacting." 
 
 He laughed heartily. 
 
 "Well, Sadie," addressing her by her first name, "they 
 all seem very well satisfied, when I leave them." 
 
 "Yes, you old sport, they all say you're game." 
 
 "Come, let us see her. You know I don't like to be seen 
 standing here." 
 
 "Well now you'll promise me you won't be too rough 
 
The Introduction 
 
LXITIATED 63 
 
 with her, and that you'll treat her liberally. I wouldn't 
 have her dissatisfied for a good deal, and remember she's a 
 little shy." 
 
 "Well, she won't be long so, if she stays in your estab- 
 lishment," he said, laughing. "Bring her along, and let me 
 see her." 
 
 Madam Blomgarten went back to where Martha was 
 sitting. The girl had a presentiment her coming foreboded 
 evil. 
 
 "Now, Clementina," she whispered, "I am going to 
 introduce you to a very dear friend of mine. He is a thor- 
 ough gentleman and is immensely rich. I hope you will 
 make a hit with him." 
 
 Martha's face crimsoned in spite of her week's experi- 
 ence. 
 
 "Come now, girl, be sociable. This is a favor I am 
 granting you." 
 
 Martha could not see the favor, but arose like an auto- 
 maton, and followed her owner, the woman who had bought 
 and paid for her. 
 
 When Martha reached the passage, she looked toward 
 the front door. The big black stood like a sentry at his post. 
 
 Reaching the gentleman, the madam smilingly intro- 
 duced Miss Clementina Montague to him. He bowed to her, 
 and in a business manner ordered the madam to send up a 
 bottle of champagne to Miss Montague's room. 
 
 "Now treat her right," said the madam, smiling up 
 into Dent's face, "and I hope to hear good reports of you 
 in the morning, Clementina, ' ' looking at the girl, whose scar- 
 let face portrayed her shame but gave bloom to her cheeks 
 to the great satisfaction of one of Chicago's most honored 
 citizens and influential business men. 
 
64 INITIATED 
 
 The madam, seeing that Martha was in doubt as to 
 what to do, said, "Come now, Clementina, show the gentle- 
 man to your room." 
 
 Martha began to ascend the stairs, followed by the man. 
 As they reached the landing they met a figure coming toward 
 them. She was a big blonde, with a magnificent head of 
 hair; her only raiment was a gauze undergarment, such as 
 the madam had shown and commended to Martha. The 
 woman 's outline was as plain to be seen as that of a marble 
 statue in the Art Gallery. 
 
 Mr. Dent smiled as the figure stood before him and ex- 
 tended her hand. Martha sought refuge in her room; Mr. 
 Dent, following her, closed the door behind him. 
 
ANXIETY 65 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 ANXIETY. 
 
 About the same time of day on the same evening de- 
 scribed in the preceding chapter, in the town of B , Mich- 
 igan, a family group consisting of a middle-aged man and 
 woman, — his wife, — a robust, powerful young fellow about 
 the age of twenty-one, and three younger persons were sit- 
 ting at supper. It was but a frugal meal. The fare was 
 simple : roast beef and vegetables, coifee, bread and butter. 
 They all ate heartily. The dining room overlooked a gar- 
 den, whence the smell of sweet-scented flowers permeated 
 the atmosphere. The bees could be heard humming, the 
 butterflies could be observed perching on the hollyhocks or 
 flitting in search of dainty morsels of which the well-kept 
 garden had an abundance. The windows, carefully screened, 
 excluded the insects. Everything in and around the place 
 was clean and wholesome, showing the care with which 
 Mrs. Hill kept her home. Supper was nearly over when 
 her husband, looking at his wife, said: 
 
 "Isn't it a wonder that we haven't got a letter from 
 Martha? She's gone now over a week, and not a line." 
 
 "Yes," replied his wife. "I am sure she is very much 
 to blame. She might at least have dropped a line to have 
 let us know if she had secured a situation and where she 
 was staying." 
 
 "I was never in favor of letting her go," remarked the 
 young man. "Chicago's a big city and sometimes we hear 
 very peculiar stories about the goings-on there." 
 
66 ANXIETY 
 
 "Now, Robert, you know Martha wanted to go. She 
 was anxious to get a situation so that she might help us, 
 since her father has been sick and you the only one work- 
 ing. She was determined to go, and she told us if she 
 couldn 't get a place she was going to come right back. Still 
 she should have written." 
 
 ''Perhaps," said the elder man, "she is waiting to get 
 a place before she writes. We'll hear from her in a day or 
 two, so there is no use in getting uneasy." 
 
 "Martha's a good girl and will not associate with bad 
 company, and I am sure when she does get a place they 
 will like her." 
 
 "That may be all right, mother," remarked the young 
 man, rising from the table, "but I'd rather see her at home. 
 It's a little lonesome without her." 
 
 "Well, have patience, boy," said the father, "it'll turn 
 out all right." 
 
 The young man, however, was far from satisfied — not 
 that he thought any ill would happen to his sister, but he 
 felt a brother's love for her. She was all to him, as up to 
 that time he had never had any special regard for any fel- 
 low's sister. His own was enough for him. He idolized her 
 as did all the family. Robert's dissatisfaction filled his 
 parents with gloom. In spite of their seeming faith in their 
 daughter's ability and purity to keep her clear of the shoals 
 that they knew arose in the way of girls Avith less sense and 
 judgment than their daughter, in whom they had such im- 
 plicit faith. 
 
 Two weeks had passed, and still no tidings of ]\Iartha 
 Hill. A settled gloom had come over the Hill family, which 
 seemed to spread to the whole town of H . The neigh- 
 bors were frequent in their inquiries, "Had they heard from 
 Martha?" 
 
ANXIETY 67 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Hill could not understand it. They did 
 not know what to think. Robert Hill aggravated the case 
 by his dismal forebodings. 
 
 "I know there is something wrong," he would say, *'or 
 Martha would have written before this." Seeing the effect 
 his alarm had upon his father and mother, he tried not to 
 make them more miserable than they were, but his impetu- 
 ous nature could not be restrained. 
 
 As assistant engineer at the works he was away 
 
 all day, usually taking his lunch with him. After she had 
 been gone ten days he could not resist the temptation of 
 running home during the noon hour to find if there were 
 any tidings. None having come, he returned to his work 
 with a heavy heart. 
 
 At quitting time he would not stop to gossip as in the 
 past with his fellow employees. Many an inquiry was made. 
 
 "Well, Bob, any news from your sister yet?" 
 
 "There wasn't any at noon," he would say, and hurry 
 home in hopes of hearing glad tidings. None having come, 
 he threw himself into a chair. His mother's red eyes pre- 
 vented him from talking about the only subject he had on 
 his mind. The supper was eaten in silence, even the yo anger 
 children were mute as they shared in the general anxiety. 
 
 Robert Hill began to eat sparingly. Before the time 
 for supper was over he would rise from the table and go out. 
 
 She had been gone fifteen days when he went over to 
 his chum, Matthew Howard. Howard's sisters, who had 
 been friends of Martha from childhood, ran to meet him. 
 
 "Well, Robert, any news?" 
 
 "No," shaking his head. His heart was too full for 
 further utterance. 
 
 Matthew Howard was visibly affected, and was just as 
 anxious as was her brother. Martha Hill's absence left a 
 
68 ANXIETY 
 
 void in his existence. "When she came to visit his sisters, 
 he looked upon her as one of them. Now that she was ab- 
 sent, she seemed more. He reproached himself for letting 
 her go. "I should have prevented her," he would say to 
 himself. "I know I could if I had tried." Matt knew the 
 straitened circumstances of the Hills since the father had 
 been laid up so long, but, being a busy man and his sister 
 Rachel being in constant communication with them, he 
 neglected or left to his sister any assistance they might 
 require. Rachel knew full well that anything she did for 
 them would meet his approval. 
 
 The Hills were sensitive, however; both Robert and 
 Martha were proud, and any reference by Rachel in the way 
 of extended credit, or even assistance, was generally met 
 with the rejoinder: 
 
 "We w^ill get on all right." 
 
 It was the spirit of independence in Martha Hill which 
 prompted her to leave her home. Matt Howard was the 
 last man in the world she would appeal to for assistance. 
 They had played together as children and had grown up 
 to womanhood and manhood together. 
 
 That she liked him was a fact her heart's promptings 
 told her, but he was in good circumstances. Slie was lowly, 
 he never thought of such a distinction. She did. 
 
 One night in particular, to which we now have refer- 
 ence, Robert Hill and ]\Iatthew Howard sat in the letter's 
 office, conferring as to what should be done. 
 
 "I tell you what I want you to do, Bob; lay off for a 
 week and go to Chicago, and try and find her. She may 
 have got injured, run over perhaps — there's no telling. 
 When you find her bring her back with you. Never mind 
 what position she has. Do that for all our sakes." Matt 
 
ANXIETY 69 
 
 Howard might have been more specific and said, "Do it for 
 my sake. I am unhappy while she's away." 
 
 "It's pretty hard for me to get away, but that won't 
 stop me. Chicago, however, is an immense city, I hardly 
 know how to go about it. You know I was never away 
 from home before." 
 
 "What you want to do when you get to Chicago is 
 first to go to police headquarters, and tell them the facts 
 in the case. The police will call up the hospitals for you. 
 You needn't be shy for money, Bob, you know that." 
 
 "I am awfully thankful to you, Matt, and if we don't 
 hear from her by Monday I'll go." 
 
 No information having come by the time prescribed, 
 Robert Hill left at the same hour as had Martha three weeks 
 before and — strange coincidence — stood on the same corner 
 as had his sister in this Modern Gomorrah, three weeks 
 previous just as she had done, looking which way he would 
 turn. A person coming along, he inquired the way to the 
 police department. On being informed, he went and found it. 
 
 In consultation with the officer in command he told his 
 story, 
 
 "So your sister was never away from home before?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Had she any acquaintances in this city you know of?" 
 
 "No, sir. She was a total stranger." 
 
 "Had she any sweetheart in B or any other place 
 
 you know of? ' 
 
 "No, sir. I never knew her to keep company with any- 
 one." 
 
 "Haven't missed any man from your town?" 
 
 "No, sir. You see ours is a small place and she was 
 known to everybody. All our neighbors are anxious about 
 her." 
 
70 ANXIETY 
 
 "Well, I'll take your description of her, and the way 
 she was dressed, and the kind of baggage she had, if any. 
 Had she a trunk with her?" 
 
 "No, sir. She had a few things like underwear, and 
 probably an extra dress or shirt-waist in a brown parcel. 
 She did not bring much with her, as she expected to com- 
 municate with us in a few days and notify us of what other 
 clothing she would want." 
 
 The officer took down the description of Martha, the 
 clothing she wore, and the articles in the bundle as accu- 
 rately as Robert Hill could give it to him, and then said, 
 "Well, we'll see what we can do for you. Probably she's 
 careless in writing, forgetful, like many other girls, of the 
 anxiety she's causing her relatives." 
 
 "A friend in our town suggested that she might have 
 happened with an accident, and be laid up somewhere." 
 
 "Perhaps so. I'll have inquiries made at the hospitals. 
 Call in tomorrow at this time and I'll let you know what 
 we've found out." 
 
 Eobert Hill spent the balance of the day late into the 
 night looking into the faces of the girls in the downtown 
 district, and going through the department stores in hopes 
 of finding her, but in vain. His inquiry at the police station 
 the next morning was fruitless. Inquiries had been made 
 at all hospitals, but no person answering either to the name 
 or description had been brought in, for two weeks. He had 
 gone from place to place, calling at police headquarters 
 every day with the same result. He had written home, giv- 
 ing the address at which he was staying. He had also writ- 
 ten to Matt Howard for him to telegraph if they had any 
 news. 
 
 Howard wrote him at the end of the week, telling him 
 
ANXIETY 71 
 
 they had no news and inclosing twenty dollars with instruc- 
 tions for him to remain in Chicago for another week. 
 
 On the Monday following his arrival, he went to the 
 police department as he had done every day. The chief, on 
 seeing him, said, "Well, young man, we have found out 
 something about your sister, but we have not found her. 
 Bring in that bundle you have, ' ' he said to a subordinate. 
 
 The bundle was brought in. It had been opened. 
 Robert Hill recognized it at a glance. 
 
 "Those are my sister's things," 
 
 "I guess so," replied the officer, "We found those at 
 a hotel on Clark St. where a girl answering the description 
 of your sister secured a room for the night, paid for it, and 
 left immediately after and never returned. My man asked 
 if she was alone, and the clerk in the hotel said she was," 
 
 Robert Hill grew ghastly pale on hearing this news. 
 
 The mystery had deepened, 
 
 "I have my men inquiring at the resorts now to see 
 if they can locate her," 
 
 "What do you mean?" inquired Robert eagerly, 
 
 "Why, the sporting houses, the brothels." 
 
 "My sister would never enter a place of that kind," 
 said Hill, emphatically. 
 
 "I hope not," replied the officer. "But, young man, 
 you have a good deal to learn about women and the ways 
 of a big city like Chicago. How long are you going to stay 
 here?" 
 
 "I would like to stay until I find her." 
 
 The police did make inquiry at some of the resorts. 
 
 They were careful, however, not to pry too closely into 
 the business affairs of people who, they knew, had the pro- 
 tection of men high in official positions. One called at 
 Madam Blomgarten's. He was extremely ci\al, and well 
 
72 ANXIETY 
 
 known to the madam, who saluted him sociably by extend- 
 ing her hand and saying: 
 
 "Well, Mike, what's up now?" 
 
 *'I am looking for a girl that's missing." 
 
 "What kind of a girl is she?" 
 
 "She's between eighteen and nineteen, had dark brown 
 hair, blue eyes, about five feet four inches in height and slim 
 built. Her name is ^Martha Hill, and recently arrived from 
 Michigan." 
 
 "Never heard of her. The only woman that has come 
 here within the past two months is one from St, Louis. She 
 has dark hair, but is tall and stout. She tells me she ran 
 away from her husband because he treated her badly." 
 
 ' ' Oh, that 's not her, ' ' replied the copper, who owed his 
 position to the bosses in the district and was fully aware 
 of the penalty over-officiousness would cost him. As he was 
 about to go tlie madam slipped him a two-dollar bill with 
 the recommendation : 
 
 "Buy yourself a drink." 
 
 "Thank, you, ma'am." 
 
 Previous to Robert Hill leaving Chicago he paid a final 
 visit to the police department, where he was informed that, 
 after a most diligent search, no trace of his sister could be 
 found. 
 
 "Perhaps she didn't stay in Chicago," said the officer 
 on duty. "She may have got a situation that has taken her 
 out of the city, and which has caused a delay in her com- 
 municating with you." 
 
 "T don't know what has become of her. I am afraid 
 she is lost to us forever. If my sister was living she would 
 have never left her parents in such suspense." 
 
 "Well, my man, we have done all we could for you." 
 
ANXIETY 73 
 
 Hill shook hands with the police officers and deter- 
 mined to return to B . He had a heavy heart. His 
 
 sister had disappeared as if the ground had opened and 
 swallowed her. 
 
74 LOST BEYOND A DOUBT 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 LOST BEYOND A DOUBT. 
 
 On arriving at his home town, Robert Hill had to con- 
 front the worst experience of his life : how could he tell his 
 parents the futility and hopelessness of his search for their 
 daughter, his sister? He hesitated for some time as to what 
 was best to do. As good fortune would have it, there were 
 none at the depot, only the porter, whom he passed hastily. 
 Not being in the mood to speak to outsiders, no matter if 
 they were friendly with him, as were all the people in his 
 town, all of whom knew of the anxiety of him and the family 
 and shared in their grief, as it was common talk, ''We 
 wonder what has become of Martha," he took a walk up a 
 secluded road where he was not likely to meet anyone, that 
 he might collect his thoughts as to how best to break the 
 sad news to the anxious ones at home. He ultimately re- 
 solved to first consult his friend Howard and seek his ad- 
 vice, — Matt knowing in advance that, up to a few days be- 
 fore, his mission had been a failure. 
 
 On reaching Howard's store, Rachel, who saw him en- 
 tering, left the cashier's desk in haste and ran forward to 
 meet him. 
 
 "Well, Robert, did you find her?" There was a tremor 
 in her voice, as she saw the downcast expression on Hill's 
 face, who only shook his head. His heart was too full of 
 grief to answer her inquiry in words. 
 
 Rachel's tender heart prompting tears, her sobs aroused 
 
LOST BEYOND A DOUBT 75 
 
 Matt, who, attending to customers at the far end of the 
 store, came running forward, pale with apprehension. 
 
 "Well, Bob, I see you've returned. What news?" 
 
 **None!" replied Hill, his voice being choked against 
 further utterance. 
 
 The three stood silent, while all the customers in the 
 busy store came forward to hear the news in which they 
 were all deeply interested. They all, however, surmised the 
 worst by the faces of Hill, Howard and his sister. They, 
 asked no questions, but left the sorrowing trio alone. 
 
 "I would like to talk to you privately," said Hill to 
 Matthew. 
 
 "Then come up to my room." 
 
 Kachel went back to her desk, wiping her eyes as the 
 tears coursed down her cheeks. 
 
 On reaching the room, Howard was the first to speak. 
 
 "You failed in finding her, Bob?" 
 
 "Yes, not a trace of her, even after we found her par- 
 cel and the hotel in which she secured a room on the day 
 of her arrival, as I advised you in my letter." 
 
 "Had the police no theory? What did they suggest on 
 your final visit?" 
 
 They suggested that she may have secured a place that 
 took her temporarily out of the city, and that she was care- 
 less in writing, or maybe her letter advising her people had 
 miscarried. The other suggestion, preposterous to consider, 
 was that she had become an inmate of a sporting house, as 
 he called them." 
 
 "What is that?" inquired Howard. 
 
 "Why, a brothel, a house of ill-fame." 
 
 "Bah!" shouted Matt. "The very suggestion was an 
 insult and I would have told him so if I had been with you." 
 
 "Well, the policemen treated me very considerately. 
 
76 LOST BEYOND A DOUBT 
 
 The chief gave instructions to make inquiry at the hospitals 
 and even search the records at the coroner's office and of his 
 own volition had his police investigate the sporting houses, 
 as he called them, but could not find any trace of her after 
 she had left the hotel on the day of her arrival. That they 
 made a careful search, we may be assured, as they found 
 her bundle with her clothes in it." 
 
 "I don't know what to think," ventured Matt, ''except 
 that she got a place right away, which took her away from 
 Chicago for a time, and she thoughtlessly neglected inform- 
 ing us. Possibly when she arrived that afternoon she im- 
 mediately went out to seek a position and obtained one 
 which, if she had to leave the city immediately, allowed her 
 little time to write. She's to blame, anyhow, and when I 
 see her I'l tell her so," 
 
 "But what am I to say to mother and father? They 
 are already in a state of the greatest anxiety over her and 
 I am sure when I tell them I couldn't find her it will break 
 their hearts." 
 
 ''I'll go over with you," said Matt, "and we'll cheer 
 them up the best we can, the going out of Chicago for a 
 time is the most feasible and we'll impress them with it 
 and wait for events," 
 
 On arriving at the Hill homestead, as soon as the 
 anxious mother saw them enter, she looked beyond them in 
 hopes of seeing a third party, but seeing no one she fell 
 back in her chair. The father looked up at the two men to 
 await information, while the younger members grouped 
 around their brother, looking into his face for tidings of 
 their sister. 
 
 Howard was the first to speak, "I don't want you 
 people to be too despondent. Robert tells me that the Chi- 
 cago police have a very reasonable theory for her absence, 
 
LOST BEYOND A DOUBT 77 
 
 and that is, that on her arrival in Chicago early in the after- 
 noon of the day she left, she had ample time to go in search 
 of a place, and more than probably was offered one that took 
 her temporarily out of the city. I have been carefully 
 watching the advertisements in the Chicago papers ever 
 since she left, and, in reading the columns where female 
 help is required, I have frequently come across some 'ad' 
 inquiring for young women to act as ladies' maids, others 
 where nurses are wanted, and quite a number offering posi- 
 tions as companions to well-to-do women, and frequently 
 one explaining that the people advertising are about to 
 leave the city, so the person applying must be prepared to 
 travel. If, then, Martha had such an offer, probably she 
 would accept it, and in her desire to secure it might thought- 
 lessly have neglected writing to us, hoping to give us a sur- 
 prise, when she would let us know of her good fortune." 
 
 "But she should have informed us," said her mother. 
 "She must know how anxious we would be about her, and 
 I don't care what excuses you make for her, Matt, she is 
 very much to blame." 
 
 "Well, mother, said Bob, relieved somewhat by How- 
 ard's explanation, "let us not blame her too much till we 
 hear from her. The policemen suggested she may have writ- 
 ten, but her letter miscarried. You know Martha never had 
 much correspondence and she, herself, may have misdirected 
 her letter." 
 
 Just at this time a number of neighbors, who had heard 
 of Bob 's return, gathered in to hear the news. Howard told 
 them of the probability of Martha getting a position that 
 took her out of the city, perhaps out of the country for a 
 time, so there was nothing left for us all but to wait, add- 
 ing, as a consolation to the old people, that he felt confident 
 she would turn up in good time all right. His expressed 
 
78 LOST BEYOND A DOUBT 
 
 confidence was far from what he felt, and belied his looks. 
 
 Another week had passed, and no tidings from Martha. 
 'Twas useless to search for her, if the Chicago police could 
 not find her. What to do they were at a loss to know. 
 Then axiety gave way to despondency, which settled on the 
 Hill homestead, ere another week had passed. 
 
 Matt Howard got into communication with the chief of 
 police, who replied promptly that they had no tidings what- 
 soever of the girl, but the entire force had her description 
 among many others who seem, as it were, to have been swal- 
 lowed up soon after entering the city. "She, however, I am 
 informed, was a most exemplary girl, and as such was not 
 likely to go astray, as many of the flighty things who are 
 dazzled by the lights in a large city and are but a short 
 time here, before they get their wings singed. As to your 
 proposition to meet any expense that may be incurred in 
 the search for her, that is entirely unnecessary, as I have 
 notified the department under my jurisdiction to keep a 
 good lookout for any girl of the name or answering her 
 description. And if they should find anyone under any cir- 
 cumstances they may have grounds in believing she is the 
 party wanted, to bring her into headquarters. I still reiter- 
 ate my first impression after we had made the first search 
 for her and failed in finding her, that she had left the city 
 shortly after her arrival. As to your query, why should 
 she leave Chicago and not take her bundle with her, I would 
 say the articles she left behind were of no great value, and 
 probably if she had reeivced an urgent demand for her 
 services which would require an absence of temporary char- 
 acter from the city, she might feel that her clothing was in 
 a safe depository until her return ; or another proposition 
 being, as you describe her, a very prepossessing girl, and 
 getting a situation as either ladies' maid or companion, she 
 
LOST BEYOND A DOUBT 79 
 
 might deem the clothing left behind unsuitable, and a gener- 
 ous employer would readily make up the deficiency. We, 
 however, cannot find what is not here, but like her friends 
 
 in B , will have to wait and hope for the best." 
 
 Weeks went by, and no tidings of the girl. Robert, her 
 brother, made occasional trips to Chicago, on one occasion 
 accompanied by Matt Howard, but, after the most diligent 
 search and inquiry, returned more hopelessly disheartened 
 than ever, until a settled conclusion was reached by both 
 friends and neighbors, that Martha Hill was not in the land 
 of the living. Why or how she had met her fate, none could 
 surmise, but that she had lost her life and was lying either 
 at the bottom of Lake Michigan, the river, or in some un- 
 known grave, was the final conclusion. Only her parents 
 prayed for her, and still clung to hope. 
 
80 RESIGNED 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 RESIGNED. 
 
 Martha Hill had been but two months under the control 
 of Sadie Blomgarten, when that lady informed her she was 
 in debt to the extent of one hundred and seventy-five dol- 
 lars — after all allowances had been made for the money 
 debited to her credit. As an asset against this she had an 
 amount of clothing and a quantity of cheap showy jewelry, 
 all of which the madam had purchased for her at the stores 
 prescribed by the bosses who guaranteed protection to her 
 in her nefarious business. 
 
 The dresses and underwear had to be purchased at a 
 certain store, the shoes and slippers at another, the millinery 
 at another, the jewelry at another. Free trade was not per- 
 mitted, the prices the inmates of such houses have to pay 
 is out of all proportion to their value, but those who are 
 slaves must obey. Even the madam who owns and controls 
 the establishment under a permit (not from the man higher 
 up, but the man highest up) has to pay an enormous rental 
 to one of Chicago's influential — yea! perhaps most re- 
 spected of citizens in our shoddy, commercial society. 
 
 Martha Hill raised no objection when informed of her 
 indebtedness. If the dame had told her it was five hundred 
 it Avould have been the same. The girl was degraded — sul)- 
 dued, she never ceased thinking of home and of the dear 
 ones she had left behind. But how could she ever meet them 
 again? She banished the thought. She was an unwilling 
 victim to conditions fostered by many, condoiKMl by others, 
 
RESIGNED 81 
 
 understood by few. She had little desire to go out now. 
 If she had, where would she go, to whom could she tell her 
 story? Who would believe her? 
 
 Madam Blomgarten would testify that she came to her 
 establishment of her own free will, and would be corro- 
 borated in her testimony by the colored man at the door, 
 who saw her brought in by the negress who attended her, 
 and by Mugsy. The preponderance of evidence would be 
 against her, besides she had learned from some of the other 
 inmates that Sadie Blomgarten was thought much of in 
 influential, political, and even judicial circles, which she be- 
 lieved was probably true, or else why would she be allowed 
 to run such an institution which had for its purpose the 
 barter of the bodies and souls of the daughters of men? 
 
 So Martha Hill, as thousands before her, submitted to 
 her fate. She was dead to the old world in which she had 
 lived, and, in spite of an aching heart, had to conform to 
 the new. 
 
 She was popular in the resort, she never pushed herself 
 on anyone of the many visitors as did the veterans who, 
 devoid of shame, ogled every man who came into the place 
 in their desire for patronage. 
 
 For this reason none were jealous of her. 
 
 Sadie Blomgarten took pains to introduce her to her 
 wealthy patrons as a girl just from the country. 
 
 "Such a nice girl and a charming entertainer. I know 
 you would like to make her acquaintance." So poor Martha 
 would be introduced to the aristocratic roues that fre- 
 quented Sadie Blomgarten 's brothel. 
 
 One evening while at supper the madam made an an- 
 nouncement that a number of the girls would have to attend 
 the First Ward Democratic Ball, and she would expect those 
 she would select to go to put on some style so as to keep up 
 
82 RESIGNED 
 
 the respectability of the establishment. Many of the girls 
 looked significantly at one another, they knew what it 
 meant : more clothes ; more debt. 
 
 "I have been compelled to buy a hundred and sixty 
 dollars worth of tickets. That is ten dollars apiece for each 
 of you girls and to rent a box. So you'll all have to do your 
 best to help me get it back. You know, girls, if I do well, 
 you do well." 
 
 It was the old gag between the employer and the em- 
 ployee; the mutual interests between capital and labor. 
 Probably the madam had read something about the com- 
 mon interests in the Chicago press. 
 
 The annual round-up of everything that was vile had 
 to be a masquerade. The madam set about making sugges- 
 tions as to suitable costumes. The younger members had to 
 dress as pages and school girls, the latter having short skirts 
 and slates on which they might put down the names and 
 addresses of gentlemen whose acquaintance they made, and 
 the dates if they were successful in making any. 
 
 Three of the larger women, she decided, should wear 
 dominoes with a four-cornered hat, such as students wear 
 at college. Their dominoes were to be black with large 
 figures in white on their backs, showing the number of the 
 house in which they lived, each should carry a lengthy stave 
 with gilt knobs, the center one of gold to be carried by the 
 big blonde, the knobs on the staves of the other two should 
 be of silver, — the madam thought that would be very im- 
 pressive. 
 
 The box that she had engaged would only hold six, 
 that would be herself and colored maid, Clementina IMon- 
 tague, Seraphina Trudell, Lomenia La Blanc-he and Margue- 
 rita Voltercharap. Those girls had to have furs as well as 
 some extra finery suitable for so auspicious an occasion. So 
 
RESIGNED 83 
 
 their score was increased, the latter three, being long in the 
 service and knowing the wiles and methods of the madam, 
 did not owe much. With Clementina Montague it was dif- 
 ferent. She knew enough, however, to know her bill would 
 receive a considerable boost. 
 
 One afternoon, while talking over the affairs in the 
 back parlor, giving the four who had to occupy the box 
 with her a little instructions as to their line of conduct at 
 the ball, and showing them the furs she had bought which 
 she vowed were of the very best, some of her listeners looked 
 at one another significantly. Clementina Montague paid no 
 attention whatsoever — when the colored woman announced 
 a visitor. 
 
 "What kind of a fellow is he?" inquired Sadie, not 
 earing to be interrupted at the time. 
 
 "A clerical looking man with a young woman." 
 
 "What is she like?" said the madam, getting imme- 
 diately interested in finding a young woman was part of 
 the visitors. 
 
 "0, I think they are begging," replied the negress. 
 
 ' ' Go find out what they are after and come and tell me. 
 You see I'm busy." 
 
 The colored woman returned in a short while and said : 
 "They want to see yourself." 
 
 "Well, tell them to come in." 
 
 A very sanctimonious looking man entered, followed by 
 a young woman who could not be over twenty years of age. 
 She stood very demure looking at the madam and the four 
 young women who each in turn looked at her. 
 
 "Well, sir, what can I do for you?" 
 
 "Good afternoon, ladies," smiling graciously. 
 
 The women took their eyes from the girl who accom- 
 panied and inclined their heads toward him. 
 
84 RESIGNED 
 
 **What is it? Spit it out!" said the madam, showing 
 some impatience. 
 
 "Well, you see, ma'am, we are collecting for the South 
 African mission, and we came to see if you would contribute 
 something toward the spreading of religious truths among 
 the poor, benighted people who inhabit the dark continent. 
 We are at great expense to keep the service in that remote 
 region in a manner it should be." 
 
 A couple of his listeners began to titter. 
 
 Martha Hill looked first at him and then at the girl. 
 Her mind revolted at the idea. Could any sanctity be se- 
 cured from money obtained from such a source? 
 
 "Don't you think you could find enough to do among 
 the niggers here," remarked Sadie, "without going to 
 Africa ? ' ' 
 
 "Ah, we have our mission here, madam. We are not 
 unmindful of our obligations to the poor colored people here 
 in Chicago." 
 
 "Well, I don't think you're making much impression 
 on them." 
 
 "I admit it's a great task, but we are untiring in our 
 efforts. ' ' 
 
 "Indeed! Is that young woman with you a mis- 
 sionary ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes, we hope to send her out with the next consign- 
 ment." 
 
 "How do you think a couple of those would do?" smil- 
 ing and looking in the direction of Lomenia La Blanche and 
 Seraphiua Trudell, who had long held residence in the Blom- 
 garten house of infamy. Both women smiled. 
 
 "I think," said the madam, continuing, "they could 
 convert more negroes than either you or her." 
 
I 
 
 ^l^/l^ 
 
 Al-RICAN MissioxARiEe 
 
RESIGNED 85 
 
 La Blanche, Trudell and the Volterchamp women 
 laughed heartily at the idea. Martha Hill frowned. 
 
 "Ah, you see, madam, it requires a special training for 
 the work we're employed in." 
 
 "Well you may depend upon those girls of mine having 
 winning ways. I think they'd make some impression on 
 some of the old chiefs out there. ' ' 
 
 "Probably they would, ma'am, if they had the neces- 
 sary inspiration," he said, smiling. 
 
 "Do you expect to go out there. Miss?" inquired the 
 madam, looking at the young woman. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am, I hope to get a call in the near future." 
 
 "Aren't you afraid they'll eat you?" 
 
 "The blood of the martyr is the seed of the church," 
 replied the girl in a resigned tone. 
 
 "Well, here's a five-dollar bill for you, Miss. If you 
 can convert a few niggers in Hooloo-Galoo-land go and do 
 it, but never advise any of them to come to Chicago. We've 
 enough savages here already, and, if you should change your 
 mind about going, come and see me." 
 
 The young missionary took the five-dollar bill, and 
 thanked the donor, while the sanctimonious looking escort 
 she had with her turned the white of his eyes up to the ceil- 
 ing as if in the act of invoking a blessing on the madam and 
 her fair assistants, after which they took their departure 
 amidst the hilarious laughter of three of Madam Blomgar- 
 ten's proteges. Martha Hill felt a sickening sensation, to 
 think, even in the cause of religion or charity, young women 
 of good character should ever enter a place dedicated to 
 sin and shame. 
 
86 THE FIRST WARD DEMOCRATIC BALL 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 THE FIRST WARD DEMOCRATIC BALL. 
 
 In the vast hall, where the annual round-up of the un- 
 savory and vicious had to take place, there assembled a 
 crowd of pimps and prostitutes that could not be gathered 
 together, at one time and in one place, in any other city of 
 the habitable globe, not even in Paris, noted for its demi- 
 monde and their revelries; or is it reasonable to suppose 
 for a moment that Sodom and Gomorrah, in the zenith of 
 their notoriety, could have produced an outpouring, more 
 to the taste of his Satanic Majesty? 
 
 It is not to be understood, however, that all those as- 
 sembled belonged to the underworld. Many of those present 
 had come to gaze on the assemblage so widely advertised, 
 not alone by those who reaped the fruits of its success, but 
 also those who, fierce in their opposition to the putrid affair, 
 gave interviews to the press in condemnation — that so ex- 
 cited the curiosity of the general public that thousands 
 flocked to the function to see for themselves the character 
 of the assemblage, and the manner in which it was con- 
 ducted. 
 
 As a rule, those took refuge in the galleries which, like 
 the floor, was crowded to suffocation, for here they could 
 better obtain a view of the confidence men and courtezans, 
 without having to rub elbows with them. 
 
 Many others, less scrupulous, remained on the floor, so 
 as to be in closer proximity, and see at shorter range the 
 showy, bedizened brothel keepers and their scarlet assist- 
 ants. 
 
THE FIRST WARD DEMOCRATIC BALL 87 
 
 On this special occasion, at an early hour the galleries 
 were crowded to their full capacity, so that many had to 
 content themselves with standing on the stairs leading 
 thereto. 
 
 Fathers and mothers, husbands and wives, young and 
 old, craning their necks to look down upon that group of 
 hopeless degenerates! The thoughtful wondered what Chi- 
 cago was coming to, or how a Christian community could 
 tolerate so loathsome an exhibition. Some left early, dis- 
 gusted at what they had seen, but many stayed to the end. 
 The unwholesome spectacle will linger in the minds of those 
 who stayed to see the close of the orgie for all time. 
 
 And this in the name of Democracy ! 
 
 There were two bands in opposite sections of the gallery 
 which at an early hour alternately played popular airs, or 
 pieces acceptable to the dancers who, anxious to participate 
 in the mazes of the Art terpsichorean, began to select part- 
 ners and flounce around the well-polished floor. 
 
 None were allowed to enter the space set aside for 
 dancers, except those who wore masks. This was small 
 restraint, however, as masks were cheap. As soon as many 
 of the women passed the portals, they lifted their masks 
 above their foreheads, so that those who knew them, or 
 were desirous of making their acquaintance, (formal intro- 
 duction being absolutely unnecessary), could get a full view 
 of their brazen faces. The veterans were easily recognized 
 by the lavish amount of paint on their cheeks, eyebrows and 
 lips ; art being utilized to cover up the ravages of outraged 
 nature. 
 
 About ten o'clock things began to get lively, many of 
 the boxes were occupied, corks began to pop, and cham- 
 pagne began to flow. In the basement where beer was the 
 order of the hour, nearly every seat was occupied. The 
 
88 THE FIRST WARD DEMOCRATIC BALL 
 
 lower strata of harlotry received most attention here. A 
 little later in the evening, when more hilarious, they joined 
 the busy throng on the upper floor. Ten P. M. was con- 
 sidered early for the night hawks, however. 
 
 Shortly after ten, Madam Blomgarten and her four as- 
 sistants arrived, the colored maid bringing up the rear. 
 There was an immediate buzz among the crowd, as a grand 
 dame had arrived, and two of the ushers ran forward to 
 escort them through the crowd. Madam Blomgarten bowed 
 right and left to many who recognized her, as behooved a 
 royal personage who stood in high esteem among those who 
 gazed in admiration at her and the extravagantly dressed 
 women who followed in her wake. All four were fairly 
 good looking. Three of them were somewhat faded, but 
 paint and powder furnished a substitute for the bloom 
 that still remained on the cheeks of Clementina Montague, 
 whose demure bearing strongly contrasted with the profes- 
 sional smiles of her three associates. They had many ac- 
 quaintances on account of their long experience in their 
 profession, who smiled or nodded to them as they passed. 
 
 Arrived at the box reserved for them, each of the women 
 took off her furs and handed them to the colored maid who 
 occupied a seat in the rear. 
 
 Madam Blomgarten, addressing her subordinates, said: 
 
 "Clementina, you and Miss La Blanche sit on the front 
 seats, you and Miss Trudell, ' ' addressing Miss Volterchamp, 
 *'will occupy those seats," alluding to those immediately 
 behind the two first named. She, like a practical business 
 woman, was occupying a center seat behind the last named 
 two, crowding her colored maid into a remote corner. This 
 arrangement was for the purpose of better showing off her 
 wares. 
 
 A crowd began to gather around the box, and stare at 
 
THE FIRST WARD DEMOCRATIC BALL 89 
 
 Martha and her associates. Madam Blomgarten was nod- 
 ding to some people she recognized. 
 
 A well-dressed man, in evening costume, stood outside 
 the rail, in the rear of the box, waiting until the madam 
 would turn so as to attract her attention. When she did, 
 she tugged at Clementina's sleeve. 
 
 "Clementina," she whispered, "Mr. Dent." 
 
 Clementina bent over to speak to him. He was a steady 
 patron of the house of Blomgarten and, though a libertine, 
 had the manner and air of a gentleman. 
 
 "Will you have a seat?" said the madam, addressing 
 him. "We can make room for you." 
 
 "No, thank you," he said, smiling. "I just wanted to 
 pay my respects to Clementina, and buy her a drink." A 
 waiter stood at attention. 
 
 "Bring a half dozen bottles." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 The waiter ran to fill the order. On his return, he drew 
 the cork from one of the bottles, and filled five glasses. 
 Each of the four white women took a glass, as did Mr. Dent, 
 who reached forward his glass so that Clementina might 
 touch hers with his. She smiled, he bowed. Dent paid the 
 bill. 
 
 Clementina, seeing Mr. Dent's desire to speak to her, 
 rose from her seat and came toward him, having to lean 
 over the madam's lap, on account of the smallness of the 
 compartment. 
 
 "Clementina, you look more beautiful than ever," he 
 whispered to her, but plainly audible to the madam, who 
 smiled her approval. "I will be around a little later," he 
 whispered, as he took his departure. 
 
 "Miss Montague, I am a little jealous of you over Mr. 
 
90 THE FIRST WARD DEMOCRATIC BALL 
 
 Dent," said the madam jokingly to her protege, "A few 
 friends like him and your bread will be buttered on both 
 sides." 
 
 The other three women in the group smiled their ap- 
 proval. Clementina took her place in front, the waiter 
 pulled the cork of another bottle and, laying it on the little 
 table, stood attention. A friend of Miss La Blanche ar- 
 rived, and after a brief talk which seemed to be very agree- 
 able to Miss La Blanche, who smiled, and patted him on the 
 cheek with her fan, he ordered three bottles, and, after 
 taking a drink, went his way. In due time the patrons ot 
 the other two ladies came, and, after a little by-talk, which 
 seemed to amuse them, ordered champagne, took a drink 
 or two and went their way. In a brief time the table in the 
 compartment occupied by the Blomgarten retinue was cov- 
 ered with champagne bottles, a mark of distinct popularity. 
 The wine was so abundant that Miss La Blanche and her 
 two experienced associates were able to treat some of their 
 less prosperous friends who, though unable to purchase, 
 had a vigorous desire to consume. 
 
 Clementina, not having the proper caste, persisted in 
 inviting the colored maid to take some, which she did with 
 alacrity. 
 
 It was now near eleven, and Madam Blomgarten was 
 gazing somewhat anxiously toward the main entrance. At 
 last a commotion was observed at that part of the hall. 
 Many ran to see what it was about. It took a number of 
 ushers to make way through the crowd, out of which there 
 appeared three women walking abreast. They had on 
 Duchess of Queensberry hats, the center one having two 
 large black ostrich plumes in it. The other two Iiad white 
 plumes. They wore black dominoes, on the back of which 
 in large white figures was the number of Madam Blomgar- 
 
THE FIRST WARD DEMOCRATIC BALL 91 
 
 ten's seminary of vice. Each had a stave in her hand; the 
 center one of the three, the big blonde, had a gold knob on 
 the top of hers, the other two had silver ones. The women 
 had trains to their dresses, each being carried by pages. 
 Their entrance caused a marked sensation, it being demon- 
 strated that Madam Blomgarten had carried off the honors 
 of the evening. As the women paraded around the floor 
 reserved for dancers, they were followed by a vast con- 
 course of people crowding one another to get a view of the 
 Grand Harlots, representing one of the leading houses of 
 ill fame. On reaching the box occupied by the madam, they 
 right-faced and stood at attention as if for inspection. 
 Hundreds clapped their hands in approval. Madam Blom- 
 garten came to the front of her box and bowed right and 
 left to her admirers, just as a prima donna might be called 
 to the front of the stage by an appreciative audience for an 
 encore. Some cried "A speech! A speech!" but this was 
 not in her line, or her modesty forbade. She beckoned to 
 the big blonde who, on coming toward her, received instruc- 
 tions to parade through the whole building, where the crowd 
 was not too dense. The madam knew the value of advertis- 
 ing, and this was not only unique but forcible and agreeable 
 to the men higher up, who knew the madam could be bled 
 more copiously on their next grand carnival. 
 
 At this hour the festival was at its zenith. The lavish 
 consumption of wine was telling on the women, who lost all 
 reserve and passed ribald jokes with all who came in close 
 proximity to the boxes. Youths of tender years solicited 
 champagne that was handed out to many a beardless boy. 
 Old men capered on the floor with girls of tender age, but 
 seemingly ripe experience. In the basement, where the 
 lower strata of the underworld took refuge, there was a 
 general debauch. The abandoned women smoked, cursed, 
 
92 THE FIRST WARD DEMOCRATIC BALL 
 
 and used vile language to the amusement and delight of 
 their male entertainers. Beer flowed like water. The busy 
 waiters hurried hither and thither to the cry of "Here, 
 waiter, bring us some beer!" It was nearly all served in 
 bottles, as on those most profit was realized. One lady, well 
 in her cups, insisted in dancing on one of the tables, to the 
 great delight of numerous spectators, who clapped their 
 hands in approval. 
 
 Upstairs the managers were discussing the advisability 
 of commencing the grand march, and soon, with the approval 
 of the leading functionary, a bugler in one of the bands was 
 instructed to make the announcement by a few vigorous 
 blasts on his instrument. The gathering seemed to under- 
 stand the call, as there was a rush from all sections to the 
 point of starting. Many of the young ladies, who occupied 
 the boxes, began to scramble over the rail so as to get to 
 the dancing floor. To accomplish this feat, they had to 
 place one leg over the barrier, which, in many cases, caused 
 a good deal of their lingerie and silk stockings to be ex- 
 posed, amid hearty laughter by the onlookers, but invok- 
 ing neither resentment nor embarrassment in the fair dam- 
 sels, who rushed off to seek partners for the grand march. 
 Miss La Blanche, eager to join in the procession, jumped to 
 her feet, and had one of her legs over the dividing rail 
 when the madam, remonstrating with her for her lack of 
 dignity, pulled her back to that young lady's chagrin, who, 
 spying in the crowd one of her early managers when she 
 was an amateur in the profession, was anxious to join him. 
 
 Our ladies of special mention had indulged freely in 
 the alluring but deceptive wine. Martha Hill had taken 
 sparingly, compared with her colleagues. She had taken 
 enough, however, to warm her blood without benumbing 
 her brain. She was fully alive to all that was going on, 
 
THE FIRST WARD DEMOCRATIC BALL 93 
 
 and looked with interest upon the busy scene with its 
 excited throng. 
 
 At length, the Grand Marshal took his position at the 
 head of the ranks. The band blazoned forth a suitable air, 
 and the grand march was on. Many of those wearing 
 badges had choice positions well up in the front with mem- 
 bers of the demi-monde on their arms. At the commence- 
 ment of the parade, a circle of the hall was necessary, so 
 that proper formation of the line could be obtained. As the 
 advancing column approached the box in which Martha 
 Hill sat, she suddenly jumped to her feet, and, pointing her 
 finger at a man who was approaching, she exclaimed in an 
 excited manner, ''Who is that man?" Miss La Blanche, 
 who was standing close behind her, said, "Him with the 
 woman with the scarlet dress? Why, that's Ike Rosenthal." 
 "What is he!" she exclaimed. "A pimp," replied Miss 
 Volterchamp, with contempt. Just as this moment, Ike 
 Rosenthal and his fair partner, to whom he had been talk- 
 ing, reached the Blomgarten's box. Martha Hill clutched a 
 glass which was standing on the table, and, as Ike Rosenthal 
 turned toward the box at the moment, threw it full into his 
 face. There was an immediate panic. Rosenthal let out an 
 oath, and made for the box, swearing that he'd have her life. 
 She grabbed one of the champagne bottles and, brandishing 
 it in her hand, attempted to strike him with it, but was 
 restrained by Miss La Blanche, who held her arm, while a 
 man in the procession held onto Ike Rosenthal. "You dirty 
 cow," he exclaimed, "I'll get even with you." "Damn your 
 rotten soul in hell!" she hissed between her teeth, as her 
 associates in the box closed around her. A policeman rushed 
 to the front. One who was in command ordered Madam 
 Blomgarten to remove that woman, or else he'd lock her up. 
 The madam, white with rage, cursed Clementina, shout- 
 
94 THE FIRST WARD DEMOCRATIC BALL 
 
 ing, "You have disgraced us, and we were doing so well!** 
 she exclaimed, as if she was about to cry; falling back in 
 her seat, while Martha's associates stood between her and 
 the crowd. One young fellow, getting through the cordon 
 of police, yelled, "Let us pull her out!" He had no sooner 
 made the suggestion than Mugsy, who had rushed to his 
 mistress's box on seeing the commotion, struck him full in 
 the face, and threatingly menaced other youngsters bent 
 on mischief. Two or three outsiders who had entered the 
 box from the rear, passing by the colored woman, were 
 driven out by the police, who, now having sufficient force, 
 formed a cordon around the box, while some of the manag- 
 ers of the entertainment led Ike Rosenthal away, his white 
 shirt dress suit and badge bespattered with wine. The 
 parade was broken up for a time, until one of the leaders 
 of the orgie came forward and peremptorily gave instruc- 
 tions to the police to remove that woman. He in turn told 
 the madam if she would not take her out, he would. Madam 
 was in doubt for a moment as to whether she would let the 
 policeman do it or not, but, finally coming to the conclusion 
 that her evening was spoiled anyway, resolved to go home. 
 Gathering up their furs, and escorted by a number of 
 police to a carriage that was secured for them, the colored 
 woman having to sit up with the driver, they set out for 
 home, Madam Blomgarten berating Martha all the way for 
 the disgrace and ruin she had brought on her. Martha, 
 suffering from the reaction, was deaf to all her denuncia- 
 tions. • 
 
REBELLION 95 
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 REBELLION. 
 
 On arriving at the brothel after the ball, Martha Hill 
 sought the seclusion of her own room, sick at heart and 
 weary of limb, the reaction following the excitement of 
 seeing her betrayer for the first time since their fatal meet- 
 ing arousing whatever little combativeness there was in her 
 gentle nature. She was anxious to avoid the scathing tongue 
 of her owner. On reaching her room she threw herself on 
 the bed and wept bitter tears, as the memory of the loved 
 ones she had lost forever came prominently to her mind. 
 The name of Ike Rosenthal sank deep into her memory; 
 she would never forget it. She lay long awake. At length 
 nature required her to rest ; she fell asleep and dreamed, as 
 she had often done before, of brighter and happier days. 
 It was well into noon when she awoke to the stern reality 
 with an aching heart caused by the hopelessness of her con- 
 dition, and an aching head through an over-indulgence in 
 wine, though she had drunk sparingly in comparison with 
 her three associates, who were more accustomed to such 
 libations. Madam Blomgarten continued to rave about the 
 disgrace that had been brought upon her, especially after 
 the magnificent program she had laid out and which was 
 running with such marked success until Clementina behaved 
 so outrageously. 
 
 "And after all I have done for her!" 
 
 This last utterance of hers was too much for Miss 
 
96 REBELLION 
 
 Volterchamp, who had taken freely of the wine, and told 
 lier to shut up. 
 
 "All you have done for her ! You do a lot for anybody. 
 It's us that are doing everything for you." 
 
 Madam Blomgarten looked at her in amazement. She 
 wasn't in the habit of hearing back-talk in her slave pen. 
 Rebellion was promptly suppressed under ordinary circum- 
 stances. She would say to her veterans, "If you grumble 
 you go. Come, Mugsy, see that this one packs up and 
 quick." Mugsy, as chief bouncer, beckoned them to go. 
 They knew what he meant, and hastened to get ready. If 
 they attempted to get another place of similar standing in 
 society, the boycott was invoked. Madam's influence with 
 the men higher up, as they are called, and the collector 
 closed the select houses against them, so that they had to 
 take refuge in houses of a lower and cheaper grade. 
 
 Madam Blomgarten was about to show her authority 
 over Miss Volterchamp, when Miss La Blanche chimed in, 
 "Yes, cut it out, we have heard enough of your philanthropy 
 to your girls. Clem showed spunk when she threw the wine 
 in his face. I'm sorry I didn't let her brain him with the 
 bottle, the dirty little pimp." 
 
 "So you're defending her too!" shouted the madam. 
 "Well, I can live without you two." 
 
 "Well, we can live without you!" yelled Miss La 
 Blanche back to her. 
 
 "And me too; count me in," said Miss Trudell. "And 
 if we go, we'll take Clem with us. You can't bulldose us 
 the same as you have done her. If we go, she'll go too and 
 you can't stop her," 
 
 The magnitude of the rebellion staggered Sadie. She 
 was rip-roaring mad, but was lost for a suitable reply. 
 
 Just then, the big blonde arrived. She had been tramp- 
 
REBELLION 97 
 
 mg around the floor of the dance hall with her two asso- 
 ciates, advertising Madam Blomgarten's establishment, and 
 had been jostled by the crowd who surged in front of her, 
 in rear of her, and on both flanks of the trio to get a better 
 look at them and to note the numbers on their backs. She 
 had hardly time to get a drink, as she afterward remarked. 
 
 As she entered the back parlor she saw the commotion, 
 "^hat the h 's up!" she exclaimed. 
 
 "Why, Sadie's jumping on us on account of what Clem 
 done to Sheeny Ike, and prating about all she has done for 
 us girls." 
 
 "Is she!" shouted the blonde. **Don't we do anything 
 for her? I've been tramping around all night like a hobo 
 with a sign on his back, until I'm Jiardly fit to stand. I 
 suppose she counts that nothing either," 
 
 This was too much for Madam Blomgarten, who, bounc- 
 ing from her chair, shouted, "I'm going to bed!" 
 
 "Pleasant dreams to you!" yelled Miss Volterchamp 
 after her, while Miss La Blanche, very unlady-like, put out 
 her tongue at the retreating madam. 
 
 Miss Trudell took a fit of laughing. She thoroughly 
 enjoyed the joke. 
 
 "Where's Clem?" inquired the blonde. 
 
 * ' She 's up in bed, ' ' responded Miss La Blanche. * ' She 's 
 done for; played out." 
 
 The colored maid, hearing the controversy from the 
 passage, retired to the kitchen, as soon as she saw her mis- 
 tress wending her way upstairs. 
 
 Just at this moment, the colored sentinel, who kept 
 watch at the door, put his head in and announced, "Some 
 gentlemen in the parlor." 
 
 "Go tell them the house is on the bum, closed for the 
 
98 REBELLION 
 
 night!" shouted the big blonde. He stood for a moment in 
 blank astonishment. 
 
 ** Didn't you hear me!" yelled the blonde. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am." 
 
 ''Then go and tell them." In a few moments the sound 
 of retiring footsteps could be heard in the hall. 
 
 ''Now, girls," said the blonde. "I propose we make 
 a night of it. What say you if we get some wine?" 
 
 "I'm agreeable," remarked Miss Volterchamp. "But 
 who 's going to pay for it, and how are we going to get it ? " 
 
 "Oh, we'll get it," said the blonde, who seemed bent 
 on mischief. "You follow me." She went toward the 
 kitchen where the colored woman had made some prepara- 
 tion for early refreshments, which it was customary to serve 
 to wealthy patrons. A kettle was singing on the stove. 
 
 "Dinah," said the blonde, "we want some wine." 
 
 "Is there gentlemen in the parlor," inquired the col- 
 ored maid. 
 
 "No, we want it for ourselves." 
 
 "0 no, Miss, you wouldn't expect me to do that?" 
 
 "Yes we do!" exclaimed Miss Volterchamp, who took 
 second part only to the blonde. 
 
 "I'll soon make her give up the key!" yelled the 
 blonde, grabbing the handle of the boiling kettle, which was 
 so hot, that she had to let go of it, but, reaching for a towel 
 which she placed around the handle, she lifted the kettle in 
 a menacing manner toward the colored maid. "Now give 
 up the key, or I'll scald you." 
 
 "Wait till I see the mistress." 
 
 "Mistress nobody, you give us the key and be quick 
 about it." 
 
 The colored wench, seeing the desperation in the eyes 
 of the big blonde, thought discretion the better part of valor, 
 
REBELLION 99 
 
 and surrendered the key. The four women went to the 
 closet and each took out two bottles of champagne. After 
 the big blonde's three partners in the raid had walked out 
 with the wine in their hands, the blonde took the key 
 from the inside of the kitchen door, locked it on the out- 
 side, after telling the colored woman to stay there till they 
 wanted her, and, as all the rear rooms in the Blomgarten 
 seraglio had barred windows, she was as much a prisoner 
 as if she was in the bridewell. 
 
 There were repeated calls at the Blomgarten mansion. 
 Many inquiries were made for the girl who had created the 
 disturbance at the dance, but to one and all the big blonde 
 sent out the same answer: * 'We're closed for the night." 
 The colored inside guard knew it was no use appealing to 
 his mistress, who at that time lay like a hog, snoring vigor- 
 ously. So he turned out the light above the transom which 
 illumined the big red pane of glass over the door, with the 
 number on it, and lay back in his chair. 
 
 As the morning advanced other of the madam's board- 
 ers began to return, tired and worn out from their excesses 
 at the dance. They were soon informed of the rebellion, 
 with the discomfiture and ignoble retreat of the madam, the 
 story of which they enjoyed immensely and began to share 
 in the festivities. Repeated calls were made on the wine 
 closet, over the protest of the colored maid, who was warned, 
 if she squealed, they would practice a surgical operation 
 on her anatomy that would fix her for all time. 
 
 About four in the morning Mugsy arrived. He looked 
 with amazement in the parlor where the entire staff of the 
 house were in an hilarious condition at the time of his en- 
 trance, one of the junior members trying to do the highland 
 fling on the back parlor table to the delight of her audience, 
 who were clapping vigorously. 
 
100 REBELLION 
 
 "What the h 1 is this!" he exclaimed, looking 
 
 around for the male patrons who, he expected, were pay- 
 ing liberally for the festivities. 
 
 "Is this a hen party?" looking in the direction of the 
 big blonde, who was still able to stand on her feet, glass in 
 hand. 
 
 "Come in, Mugsy, take a drink." 
 
 "What does this mean?" he said to one of the girls 
 who was closest to him. 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you," said Miss Volterchamp, "we've 
 fired the captain, and we're going to scuttle the ship." At 
 this sally many of the girls, wlio weren't too far gone, 
 laughed heartily. 
 
 "Well, I'm going to do a little firing too, and if the 
 whole bunch of you don't go right up to bed while you have 
 light, ye '11 be in the dark in five minutes, because I'll turn 
 off the gas. Where's Dinah?" 
 
 "We have her in chains," said Miss Volterchamp, who 
 seemed to be of a nautical turn of mind and was well up in 
 pirate lore. 
 
 "I think we'll want straight jackets for some of you," 
 retorted Mugsy. "Come, clear out," as he went toward the 
 chandelier to turn off the gas. 
 
 "Well, take a drink and we'll go," said Miss La 
 Blanche. 
 
 Mugsy, thinking this was the best terms he could 
 make, accepted a glass of wine. Those of the damsels who 
 were able began to climb the stairs. Three or four who were 
 unable to locomote lay where they fell. The colored maid 
 had to sleep in her prison until the key of the kitchen was 
 found after a diligent search next morning. So ended the 
 rebellion in the regal house of the Blomgarten. 
 
A QUANDARY 101 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 A QUANDARY. 
 
 Madam Blomgarten retired the night of the revolt with 
 a troubled mind. It was the first time in her vast experi- 
 ence in her profession when she had to confront a problem 
 of so difficult a solution. Her proud spirit as a ruler of 
 women had met a check, as they say when hostile forces 
 are repulsed by a determined enemy which showed more 
 strength than was expected when attacked. Four of her 
 leading ladies had bidden her defiance; each of them had 
 numerous male friends and, as she thought, ''probably if 
 I attempt to regulate one or all of them, others in the house 
 may take sides against me. As for Clementina, the most I 
 can do with her is to give her a lecture, though she is the 
 one most to blame. I will see Mr. Dent about her anyway 
 and talk to him, though I feel it won't do me much good, 
 as he's her steady patron, and his influence with the men 
 higher up is paramount, owning, as he does, the leading 
 house where supplies were purchased and a liberal commis- 
 sion dispensed to the political managers." After ruminat- 
 ing for a long time as to what should be her line of action 
 in the morning when she had to face the insurgents, she 
 resolved to sleep over it. So, turning in her couch, her 
 troubled mind soon found repose in slumber. 
 
 Having retired long before the accustomed hour, in the 
 morning through the commotion in her subjects, she awoke 
 at an early hour. The clock on the mantel chimed seven, 
 and much as she would have liked to have enjoyed a much 
 
102 A QUANDAEY 
 
 longer snooze, try as she would, the god Morpheus seemed 
 to have deserted her, as she had turned from the god of 
 Israel many, many years before. So she lay thinking and 
 tossing in her bed till the clock struck eight, when she re- 
 solved to get up. Pulling on her stockings and placing her 
 feet in a pair of slippers, and winding a commodious dress- 
 ing gown over her well developed figure, she descended 
 toward the parlor floor. In taking a glance into the parlor 
 as she was passing, her eyes were gladdened by the multi- 
 plicity of empty champagne bottles that littered the table 
 and of many that stood like silent sentries after the fierce 
 but, as she thought, profitable carousal of the night before. 
 Immediately her heart softened to the delinquents, when 
 she contemplated the profits. She essayed to count the 
 bottles, but as they were so numerous and in so many parts 
 of the commodious parlors she gave it up, feeling sure that 
 Dinah, who was custodian of the wine and liquor supply, 
 
 had kept faithful tab. "They must have had a h 1 of a 
 
 time," she thought, as she noticed the unaccustomed dis- 
 order, '*I suppose the house is full of patrons." So she 
 resolved then and there to let bygones be bygones and at 
 the noon day lunch, if the rebels showed up, to pass the 
 fracas of the night before as a joke, not even mentioning 
 the matter to Mr. Dent, unless he himself should revert to 
 the question. 
 
 ''I'll awake Dinah and have her make me a cup of 
 coffee. I suppose she, poor woman, was up all night too." 
 Going to a little cubby hole at the rear of the house where 
 Dinah bunked, she was surprised to find it vacant. "I sup- 
 pose, poor girl, she was so played out that she went to sleep 
 in the kitchen," was her next thought. On descending the 
 stairs and reaching the kitchen, she tried to open the door, 
 but, on finding it fast, she knocked loudly, crying, "Dinah, 
 
A QUANDARY 103 
 
 open the door!'' The voice from the inside shouted, "I 
 can't, I am locked in!" 
 
 "Locked in?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am." 
 
 "Who locked you in?" 
 
 "The boarders, ma'am." 
 
 "Why did you let them!" shrieked the madam. 
 
 "I couldn't help it, ma'am. They threatened to scald 
 me with the boiling water, and to do all sorts of cruel things 
 to me. I believed they would have murdered me if I resisted 
 them." 
 
 "Why didn't you run out and cry for help? Where 
 was Mugsy?" 
 
 "I s'pose he was at the dance, ma'am." 
 
 "Well, where was the colored porter?" 
 
 "They told him to go to h 1, ma'am, and clear out, 
 
 as the place was closed for the night. So I don't know what 
 became of him." 
 
 "Were there no gentlemen?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am. I could hear the bell ringing frequently, 
 but they didn't seem to open the door." 
 
 "My God! this is outrageous! Don't you know where 
 the key is?" 
 
 "No, ma'am, how could I tell when they locked me in 
 and took the key with them?" 
 
 Madam Blomgarten burst into a paroxysm of passion, 
 giving vent to her feeling in language which, if published 
 literally, would effectually prohibit this work from having 
 access through the United States mail. 
 
 A sudden thought striking her, she turned and ran as 
 fast as her corpulency, age, and passion would permit her, 
 up the first flight of stairs. As she passed one of the bed 
 rooms, she looked in and saw four of her lady boarders 
 
104 A QUANDARY 
 
 lying heads and tails on the one bed, with all their clothes 
 on. Climbing the next flight of stairs, panting for want of 
 breath, she rushed into the room where Mugsy was sleeping 
 and, grabbing him by the hair of his head, shouted, "Get 
 up!" 
 
 He awoke with a start, seeing the frantic condition of 
 his mistress. 
 
 "What's up!" he exclaimed. 
 
 "What's up?" she replied, with a sneer, **what isn't 
 
 up 
 
 "Oh, I know," he replied, sitting up in bed. 
 
 "Well, tell me where were you to allow this carrying 
 on in my house? What do I pay you for?" 
 
 "Why, I didn't get home until four. You know I had 
 to stay at the dance to see that no one molested any of our 
 girls. ' ' 
 
 "Well, when you got home, what did you see?" 
 
 "Why, every b in the place was rip-roaring drunk 
 
 and hilarious. I raced them all to bed; that's as many as 
 were able to climb the stairs, — saw that the house was locked 
 up and, finding that you had gone to bed, I turned in. ' ' 
 
 "Did you see Dinah?" 
 
 "No, I supposed she had gone to bed," 
 
 "Well, she hadn't. They locked her in the kitchen 
 after robbing the wine closets, so she can't get out. Do you 
 know where the key is?" 
 
 "No, I don't." 
 
 "Get up and find it, then." Madam, turning on her 
 heel, went down the one flight of stairs, and, entering her 
 oAvn room, fell into a rocker exhausted by the intensity of 
 her passion. 
 
 Mugsy arose, and, on going to the kitchen, consulted 
 the colored girl as to who had the key. She couldn't remem- 
 
A QUANDARY 105 
 
 ber who had it last, but laid the blame on the big blonde, 
 who, she said, was the worst of all. 
 
 Mugs}^ sought the room usually occupied by that ag- 
 gressive lady, but found it occupied by others. He ulti- 
 mately found her in another apartment in bed with two of 
 her sisters, all sound asleep. He grabbed her by the 
 shoulder; she let out a grunt. *'Wake up!" he shouted. 
 "Where's the key of the kitchen?" 
 
 "I don't know. Let me sleep." 
 
 "Get up and find the key." 
 
 "No, I'll not. If you want the key, go find it yourself," 
 turning over. 
 
 Mugsy could hardly restrain himself from reaching her 
 one, but contented himself by placing his hand in the pocket 
 of her dress, but found no key. He then visited a number 
 of the bed-rooms, making inquiries and being met with 
 evasive or angry answers from the sleepy damsels who were 
 so ruthlessly disturbed. He finally thought he would see 
 if it was in the parlor. After a diligent search he found it 
 amid some of the empty champagne bottles, and he released 
 Dinah, telling her to hurry up and bring some coffee up to 
 the missus' room, with a little brandy, as he was afraid to 
 go near her, — possibly she was in a fit, if not croaked. 
 
 "I'm going to get a couple of hours sleep. This life is 
 getting a little too strenuous for me." 
 
 Dinah then hastily prepared the coffee, and with some 
 toast and a half tumbler of brandy went up to the madam's 
 room, where she found her in a total collapse, the reaction 
 having set in. After advising her to lie down for a couple 
 of hours, as it was not likely that any of her people would 
 be up for some time, she left her. 
 
106 A CONFERENCE 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 A CONFERENCE. 
 
 Madam Blomgarten remained in her room for some 
 time, meditating on what was the best to be done under the 
 circumstances. She was in no mood to meet the rebels who, 
 she feared, were arrayed solidly against her. She resolved 
 to seek counsel outside. So, dressing herself in her glad 
 clothes, she determined to visit the great firm of Dent & 
 Company, where, on her arrival, she was ushered into the 
 private office of the head of the firm, being well known to 
 the ushers of that establishment as a very valuable cus- 
 tomer. 
 
 Mr. Dent greeted her, very cordially. 
 
 ''Come in, Sadie, and sit down. What can we do for 
 you today?" 
 
 ''I am in great trouble, Mr. Dent. Your lady friend, 
 Miss Montague, has upset my whole establishment. I sup- 
 pose you heard how she acted at the ball last night?" 
 
 "I was there and saw the commotion. She must have 
 had a grudge against that fellow Rosenthal. Was it he that 
 first brought her to your house?" 
 
 "Yes, but she has done real well since she came. I've 
 introduced her to the very best society, including yourself, 
 Mr. Dent, and I cannot, for the life of me, see what cause 
 she has for complaint." 
 
 "Ah, Sadie, I think your sense of propriety and morals 
 is somewhat lax. She has not got over the outrage that was 
 perpetrated upon her in spite of all your coaching, nor is 
 
A CONFERENX^E 107 
 
 she likely to, I have heard something of her story, and 
 while you know I am far from being a saint, and conform 
 to the conditions as we find them in this wicked city, I 
 would still take it as a justifiable act if she killed him." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Dent, you are somewhat of a sentimentalist. 
 You'll some day blossom out as a reformer." 
 
 *'No telling, but at the present time I am a business 
 man and, though a man of the world, I never can get away 
 from the fact that I have a wife and children, two of whom 
 are girls. I, however, saw the performance last night from 
 a safe distance, and must admit it was deplorable. But I 
 suppose you came for my advice, and I will give it to you. 
 You grin and bear it. Pass it up as the act of a drunken 
 woman, — I suppose she had drunk a lot of champagne?" 
 
 "Yes, but I haven't told you the worst yet. When we 
 got home and I started in to give her a lecture for her 
 unlady-like conduct. Misses La Blanche, Trudell and Volter- 
 schamp took sides with her and bid me defiance in my own 
 home ; but worst of all, when that big blonde came in, the 
 big cow, she was worse than all, and began to abuse me 
 most unmercifully, so that I had to leave them and go to 
 my own room." 
 
 "A judicious retreat, Sadie; you deserve credit." 
 
 "But worse than that. As soon as my back was turned 
 they attacked my colored maid, threatening to take her life 
 if she wouldn't give up the key of the wine closets, so she 
 had to give up the key and then they raided the closets, 
 helping themselves to wine by the dozens of bottles, locking 
 my colored girl in the kitchen, so that she couldn't appeal 
 to me or get any assistance. AVhen Mugsy arrived home, 
 the whole bunch of them was in the parlors, most of them 
 speechless from the wine." 
 
 "I suppose they'd had lots of male company?" 
 
108 A CONFERENCE 
 
 "Not a man. They told the colored man I have on the 
 front door that the place was closed for the night, so that 
 he might as well clear out, which it seems he did." 
 
 "Where was Clementina all this time?" 
 
 "She was up in bed." 
 
 "Well, you can't blame her for the trouble in the 
 parlors. ' ' 
 
 "Yes I do, for if she hadn't caused the trouble at the 
 dance every thing would have gone on in proper order. 
 And look at the success I would have ; my house would have 
 been crowded day and night for weeks after. Now, I'm 
 afraid things are ruined." 
 
 "Not so bad as that, Sadie, you'll still be able to do 
 business at the old stand, but I have something to tell you 
 and I want you to act promptly. After Ike had left the hall, 
 accompanied by some six or seven of his pals, they went to 
 the saloon where they hold out. Ike was mad, and swore 
 by the bones of his ancestors he'd get even with the cat. 
 First, he vowed he'd kill her, a praiseworthy intent in the 
 estimation of some of his pals, who are in the same line of 
 business as himself; but, after they had caroused for a 
 certain time, he came to the conclusion that killing her 
 would be too humane an act, so he resolved to disfigure her. 
 * I '11 make her so that when she looks at herself in the glass 
 she'll hate herself.' I guess that he means he'll either do it 
 himself, if the cowardly skunk has the guts, or he'll get 
 some of his pals to do it. Either slash her with a knife, or 
 throw acid in her face. So I want you, when you go home, 
 to tell Mugsy to hunt him up. He can find him and tell 
 him that, if either he or any of his pals lay a finger on Miss 
 Montague, or if she's injured in the near future by any 
 person, no matter whether he is to blame or not, all the 
 lawyers on earth or in hell won't save him, and that we'll 
 
A CONFERENCE 109 
 
 see he even can't get a bondsman capable of putting up 
 enough security for all the charges we'll lay against him. 
 Damn him, I'll keep him in jail till he rots. Now you know 
 me ; so see you attend promptly to this matter. Have Mugsy 
 hunt him up as soon as you get home, as the fellow who 
 gave me the information tells me there is no time to lose. 
 I'll expect to hear from you tomorrow, how Mugsy fulfilled 
 his mission, and, as for your injured feelings, you'll prob- 
 ably have a rush of business after the annual ball that will 
 more than compensate you for your losses ; and as part pay- 
 ment for Clementina's share of the loss here's a twenty- 
 dollar bill with which you can buy yourself something on 
 the way home." 
 
 ' ' But how can I meet the girls ? ' ' 
 
 *'Let on you forgot it, or pass it off as a joke." 
 
 Sadie Blomgarten left the private office of Dent & Com- 
 pany far from satisfied, but could not see any other way out 
 of the difficulty. She did some shopping for herself, it being 
 a breach of contract to purchase anything for any of the 
 girls except in the prescribed stores. She spent the after- 
 noon visiting different establishments, not desiring to be 
 home until supper was ready, over which it was customary 
 for her to preside. Arriving home, the colored man at the 
 door let her in. 
 
 " I '11 want to see you later ! ' ' she exclaimed. ' ' Is Mugsy 
 in?" 
 
 ''Yes, ma'am." 
 
 ' ' Tell him I want to see him right away in the parlor. ' ' 
 
 "Yes, ma'am," 
 
 On Mugsy 's arrival, she told him the instructions she 
 had received, and informed him to go right away, find Rosen- 
 thal, and inform him what to expect if any injury was done 
 to Miss Montague, by either himself or anyone else, whether 
 
110 A CONFERENCE 
 
 they were pals or not. ''Tell him that no alibi will save him. 
 Now go, and here's a five spot for you. Perhaps you may 
 have trouble finding him this early." 
 
 "Won't after supper do?" 
 
 *'No, go at once, get your supper outside." 
 
 " I '11 find him, ' ' replied Mugsy, * ' and if he gives me any 
 lip I'll forestall the bosses by kicking the stuffing out of 
 him in advance." 
 
 Madam Blomgarten then put off her fur overcoat and 
 repaired to the dining room, where supper was waiting. 
 The bell was ringing, and the girls came trooping in and 
 took their regular places. Madam Blomgarten, seeing that 
 Clementina was absent, inquired as to her absence. 
 
 "She's in bed," answered one of the girls. 
 
 "Has she been attended to?" inquired the madam, por- 
 traying unwonted interest. 
 
 "Yes, we took her up some tea and toast," she said. 
 "She was only tired and would stay in bed for the day." 
 
 "Well, if she is sick, I want the doctor brought to her 
 right away." 
 
 This unusual interest surprised many of the girls, who 
 wondered at her change of heart from the night before 
 when she would have liked to strangle her. 
 
 The madam, however, in spite of the instructions Dent 
 had given her, was far from pleasant, not even sociable. 
 
 As the supper proceeded, she noticed some of the elder 
 women had on a look of stern defiance, while the younger 
 ones kept whispering to one another something which 
 caused an occasional titter. One girl in particular, whose 
 risibility was easily aroused, couldn't keep from laughing. 
 
 The madam, becoming irritated, said, "I suppose you're 
 laughing at me. Miss Angeline." 
 
 "No, ma'am. Ophelia was telling me a funny story." 
 
A CONFERENCE 111 
 
 "I know she was probably talking about me, and I 
 want this foolishness to stop, and not to hear another word 
 about it, there's the bell ringing, perhaps one of yon had 
 better go into the parlor and see who 's wanted. I 'm going 
 to dress, but before doing so I want to say one word: I 
 think some of you girls haven't treated me as I deserve." 
 With that she left the room. 
 
 That night, the house of Blomgarten was crowded as it 
 never was before ; the girls seemed to rival one another In 
 their efforts to bring grist to Madam Blomgarten 's mill, 
 she being kept busy introducing strangers, many of whom 
 inquired for the young lady who had displayed such energy 
 at the First Ward Democratic Ball ; but to all who desired 
 an introduction they received the same stereotyped answer : 
 ' ' Miss Montague is out this evening, would you care to meet 
 Miss ? She's a charming girl." 
 
112 BEST FOR THE WEARY 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 REST FOR THE WEARY 
 
 On the morning after the day Madam Blomgarten had 
 held counsel with Mr. Dent, Martha Hill, (as we know her), 
 had an elaborate breakfast brought to her bedside by the 
 colored maid, who, after inquiring how she felt, received 
 the answer: "I am tired and weary." 
 
 "Madam told me to tell you that if you don't feel well 
 you had to stay in bed, and that she would see that no one 
 disturbed you." 
 
 This solicitude of the madam in her behalf was some- 
 what of a surprise, as she expected her owner to pour the 
 vials of her wrath upon her at the earliest opportunity. 
 
 "I suppose the madam is very angry at me," address- 
 ing the colored woman who lingered in the room, seemingly 
 to give the girl in the bed close attention. 
 
 "You bet she was at first; she was mad at everybody, 
 especially at the boarders who took your part." 
 
 "Who were they?" 
 
 "Why, all the girls, but they behaved very bad to me." 
 
 "What did they do to you?" 
 
 "Ebery thing, Miss. I thought they'd murder me," 
 And Dinah, seeing Martha was interested, went on to de- 
 scribe what took place from the time Martha Hill retired 
 on the morning of the ball, until the time of Madam Blom- 
 garten 's return after her interview with Mr. Dent, in the 
 most graphic manner of which she was capable. The recital 
 made Martha Hill smile, despite her aching head and heart. 
 
REST FOR THE WEARY 113 
 
 "I suppose, Dinah, when the madam came down the 
 next morning, and found out what they had done, she was 
 furious." 
 
 ' ' That 's no name for it, Miss, She was crazy ; I thought 
 she 'd take a fit ! Your tea 's getting cold. Miss ; let me help 
 you. Come, take a little of this ham and eggs." 
 
 "No, Dinah, I am too sick." 
 
 "This tea will do you good. Come now. Miss Mon- 
 tague, let me help you," putting the cup to the girl's lips. 
 
 "I am interested in your story, Dinah. I suppose she 
 abused the girls frightfully, when she saw them?" 
 
 "No, she didn't; she skipped out before any of them 
 was up, and didn't come home until supper time, and then 
 she was as nice as nip. The first thing she done was to 
 inquire about you, and said she hoped you had been attended 
 to, and gave me orders that, if you were ill, our doctor had 
 to be sent for at once. I told her that I only thought you 
 were tired, and would be all right after you had a little 
 rest." 
 
 "Well, see that she's not disturbed," she said. But I 
 must be going. Can I bring you up anything?" 
 
 **No. Tell them down stairs that I will not get up to- 
 day, nor see any one." 
 
 During the morning. Madam Blomgarten came to visit 
 the patient. 
 
 "Well, my dear, how are you now?" in a most solicit- 
 ous tone, which fairly took the breath away from the 
 protege, who expected at least a coldness from her mistress. 
 There was not, however, a particle of malice in her voice. 
 
 "I am sick and tired." 
 
 "I don't wonder; you get yourself so excited. I didn't 
 think it was in you, Clem." 
 
 ' ' I had good cause, had I not ? ' ' 
 
114 REST FOR THE WEARY 
 
 "Now, Miss Montague, you can't expect me to go into 
 that subject. You understand my business, and since you 
 came here I have tried to treat you as well as I could. I 
 have only introduced you to friends that would prove valu- 
 able to you." 
 
 "I can never be reconciled to such friends, and I did 
 not come here of my own free will. I was brought here by 
 that vile creature I only saw for the second time, the night 
 of the dance." 
 
 "Well, I didn't come up to quarrel with you, nor am 
 I going to ; I came to see if you wanted for anything or 
 were you going to get up this evening to meet your friends. 
 Many have inquired for you." 
 
 "No, I am too sick to get up, and don't want to see 
 any one. I want to be let alone." 
 
 "Suppose Mr. Dent calls; what am I going to say to 
 him?" 
 
 "Tell him I have left," turning her face from the 
 madam, who bit her lip to hide her chagrin. 
 
 "Oh, I can't do that; you wouldn't want me to lie." 
 
 The girl turned in the bed and gazed aghast at her 
 mistress, who professed such scruples about telling an un- 
 truth. 
 
 "I see, my dear," addressing her slave in the most 
 patronizing manner. "You want a rest. Should you want 
 for anything, or change your mind about seeing any of your 
 friends, just ring your bell, and I will see that your wishes 
 are complied with." 
 
 "I want only to be let alone." 
 
 "Have your own way then, I'll see you'll not be dis- 
 turbed." After which she took her departure in a mood 
 widely different from the one she had to dissemble. 
 
REST FOR THE WEARY 115 
 
 Martha Hill could not understand or account for the 
 mildness of her mistress' manner, after the violence of her 
 attack upon her the night before. She wondered what had 
 brought about the change. 
 
 Along in the afternoon Mugsy peered in at the door. 
 *'May I come in?" he inquired. 
 
 ''Yes." 
 
 "I hope you are not very sick, Miss?" smiling at her. 
 
 * * Not so sick as weary. I feel grateful to you, however, 
 Mugsy, for the way you came to my defense, when the 
 young man wanted the crowd to pull me out of the box." 
 
 "Don't mention it, Miss. I'd do more than that for 
 you. Your friend is my friend." 
 
 "Who is that? What friend have I that's your friend?" 
 she inquired earnestly. 
 
 "Mr. Dent. He's stuck on you, Clem, and he's one of 
 the big fellows. What he says goes, and as long as you 
 keep him on your list you needn't care for any one." 
 
 "What do you mean? How is Mr. Dent so influential?" 
 displaying great interest. 
 
 "You know, Miss, I'm not supposed to tell tales out of 
 school, or even recognize any of the swells that come here, 
 but I'm on to a lot of them. I don't mind putting you on, 
 as I know you wouldn't give me away; in fact. Miss Mon- 
 tague, I feel somewhat friendly to you, and I'm sorry I 
 spoke so harsh to you when Sheeney Ike first brought you 
 here. But it's part of the work I'm expected to do, and 
 what I'm paid for. I know you're different from the rest 
 of the Judys we have here, and I know you're not happy. 
 You still have more friends than any two of them." 
 
 "Such friends! don't mention them. They all come 
 for a purpose. We girls all look alike to them." 
 
116 REST FOR THE WEARY 
 
 "You can't say that of Mr. Dent. He is the real goods. 
 Do you know he's been helping you out of the trouble you 
 got yourself in the night of the dance?" 
 
 "How so?" raising herself on her elbow on the bed, 
 and looking intently at her informant. 
 
 "I'll tell you, but mind it's in strict confidence. Dent 
 wouldn't like it, and the madam, if she thought you knew 
 too much, would want to know where you got your infor- 
 mation, and she'd guess I was the only one could tell you, 
 so she'd probably can me." 
 
 "You can rely on me, Mugsy." 
 
 ' ' It was this way : After Sheeney Ike and his pals left 
 the hall, they Avent to the saloon where they hang out. 
 Ike's pals looked upon him as a much-abused man. Ike 
 himself felt he'd been degraded in such high-class company, 
 especially as some of the girls who contribute to his board 
 bill saw you douse him. Well, to make a long story short, 
 after the drinks were served, Ike's pals waited to hear 
 what he had to say. You know Ike's a leader among them, 
 so he swore he'd have your life. But after a few more 
 drinks, and on the advice of his pals, he decided there was 
 too much risk in killing you. He finally came to the con- 
 elusion he would disfigure you for life. He boasted he'd 
 make you hate yourself, when you looked in a glass." 
 
 "What did he mean by that?" the girl turning pale 
 with apprehension. 
 
 "Why, slash you with a knife, or throw acid in your 
 face." 
 
 "My God! would he do that?" falling back in the bed 
 in terror of her impending danger. 
 
 "They'd do anything, that gang. I'm bad enough, the 
 Lord knows, but I'm a saint in comparison to them white 
 slavers." 
 
REST FOR THE WEARY 117 
 
 "Tell me, Mugsy, what have I to do to protect myself?" 
 her breath coming short in her excitement. 
 
 *'No danger, Miss. Your friend Dent attended to 
 them." 
 
 **What control can he have over such ruffians?" 
 
 *'If any of them even looks crooked at you, he'll fix 
 them for all time." 
 
 "Tell me, how can he do that? I am anxious to know." 
 
 "Well, mum's the word, if I tell you." 
 
 "Yes, sure." 
 
 "You have heard of the men higher up, havn't you?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, he's one of the highest up, near the top, and, 
 getting the tip of what Ike said he'd do to you from one 
 of the push, he had the madam send me out to find Ike, and 
 notify him that if either he or any of his band of white 
 slavers, confidence men, or blackmailers, laid a finger on 
 you, or if even anything happened to you in the near future, 
 whether they were to blame or not, he'd have the whole 
 crowd sent over the road. And as for Rosenthal, he'd keep 
 him in jail until he'd rot; in fact, he'd have the state's 
 attorney file so many charges against them, that it would 
 take the First National Bank to furnish enough bonds to 
 get them out. Even then he would see to their conviction. 
 So I set out and found Ike, and delivered my message. At 
 first he was a little stiff, so I took him by the neck, and I 
 said, 'You dirty little descendant from Judas Iscariot, they'll 
 have to be first to get you. If I get you first, I'll kick the 
 entrails out of you. I'll make you so that they'll have to 
 take your remains away in a bag. As it is, I have a notion 
 to begin on you now.' He tried to get away from me, but 
 I held him until the skunk told me it was all off. 'Well, go 
 tell your pals so, and if you don't I'll see you again.' So 
 
118 REST FOR THE WEARY 
 
 you need have no fear, Miss, I'll make him eat out of your 
 hand, if you want me." 
 
 Martha Hill could not help but smile in the face of so 
 doughty a champion. 
 
 "I must be off. There's the missus shouting," extend- 
 ing his hand to the girl in bed, who gratefully grasped it. 
 
 ''Take a good rest, and count on me as your friend 
 from this out," were his parting words. 
 
 Late in the afternoon Mr. Dent called. He inquired 
 of the colored man if Mugsy was in. 
 
 ' ' Yes, sir. I '11 find him for you. ' ' 
 
 On Mugsy 's arrival. Dent's impatient inquiry was: 
 "Did Sadie send you out on a mission for me?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Did you find the party I wanted you to?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, and I put the fear of God in his heart." 
 
 "Mugsy, that fellow has little fear of God, it's fear of 
 jail he dreads." 
 
 "Well, sir, when I got through with him he imagined 
 he could hear the gates closing behind him, and more I told 
 him, that if either he or any of his gang molested Miss 
 Montague they'd be lucky if they reached jail, as it would 
 be most likely coffins they'd want." 
 
 Mugsy gave a highly colored description of his inter- 
 view with Rosenthal, which made Dent laugh. 
 
 "Good boy, Mugsy," he said. "If ever you want a 
 friend count on me, and here's a little token of my appre- 
 ciation," placing a ten-dollar bill in his hand. 
 
 "Thank you, sir." 
 
 "Anything further in reference to the matter we've 
 been talking about, come and let me know. Where's Clem 
 now ? ' ' 
 
 "She's up in bed, sir. She's sick." 
 
REST FOR THE WEARY 119 
 
 Dent shook hands with Mugsy, went straight up the 
 stairs, and entered Martha Hill's bedroom without being 
 announced. 
 
 The girl was sound asleep. Dent gazed on her. He 
 saw a smile illume on her face. He guessed she was having a 
 pleasant dream, probably of happier days, ere she left her 
 virtuous home and faithful friends to seek employment in 
 this city, where justice is not only blind but paralyzed by 
 the influence of vicious politicians and their accommodating 
 judges. 
 
 For a moment Dent 's conscience stung him. He thought 
 of his own two daughters at home when his better nature 
 came in conflict with the polygamous instinct. He thought 
 to himself she is a beautiful toy, something to amuse and 
 entertain. His soliloquy was brought to a close by Martha 
 Hill opening her eyes and gazing into his face. "Clem, old 
 girl, I hear you 're under the weather. ' ' 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Dent, I am more weary than sick." 
 
 "I am sorry to hear that," sitting on the bed beside her. 
 "It would seem as if this life was too strenuous for you." 
 
 "I am sick of this calling." 
 
 "And of me, I suppose." 
 
 "Yes, under the circumstances, though I must admit 
 you have been a good friend to me, as such friends go." 
 
 "Come now, don't get despondent." 
 
 "How can I help it?" 
 
 "Cheer up I just dropped in to see how you were after 
 the fracas the other night, and to tell you to never heed any 
 threats that that dirty little Jew may make aginst you, 
 and if there is anything you want to let me know, or if you 
 have any trouble with the madam, you tell Mugsy, you can 
 rely upon him, and he'll let me know. Come, now, don't 
 be disheartened." 
 
120 REST FOR THE WEARY 
 
 Martha Hill began to cry. 
 
 Dent continued. "Come now, Miss Montague, bad as 
 I am, I can't stand a woman's tears. So I must be going. 
 I'll be in again in a few days, when I hope to find you more 
 cheerful. Good bye!" He took her in his, arms and kissed 
 her. 
 
THE INEVITABLE 121 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE INEVITABLE 
 
 Clem Montague stays in her room for three consecutive 
 days, during which time she hears much interesting infor- 
 mation, and gets assiduous attention; dainty meals being 
 brought up to her bedside. She receives many calls from 
 her sisters in misfortune. 
 
 The big blonde brought a smile to her face on her first 
 visit, when she gave her version of how they had put it 
 over "the old cat " by which uncomplimentary title she 
 designated her mistress. 
 
 Madam Blomgarten was remarkably solicitous in her 
 inquiry as to how Clem felt; her principal motive being to 
 find out when the young lady would be ready to attend to 
 business. The madam, being of the earth earthy, felt she 
 was suffering some pecuniary loss by the indisposition of 
 her most profitable assistant in her well regulated resort — 
 as a very distinguished public official living in those days 
 desired it should be, his plea being "you cannot suppress 
 the social evil, but you can regulate it," and he kept on 
 with the aid of kindred politicians regulating it, till the 
 Great Regulator of all relegated him. 
 
 On the fourth day. Miss Montague, wearying of the bed, 
 arose and dressed. The madam happened to meet her on 
 the landing. She was lavish in her professions of solicitude 
 as to her physical condition. 
 
 "I hope you feel better, Clem?" in a tone in which a 
 
122 THE INEVITABLE 
 
 mother might be likely to address a sick daughter. "Now, 
 girlie, I want you to be more careful and don't get yourself 
 so excited. You look a little pale to me." 
 
 "I feel all right," was Martha's reply to her many 
 queries, and she moved on to the back parlor, where some of 
 the girls were lounging, all of whom gave her a hearty and 
 sincere welcome to their midst. 
 
 Mugsy, on meeting her, put on the blandest smile his 
 coarse countenance would permit, in his inquiry as to her 
 condition. His interest in her was due to the fact that she 
 was the chosen houri of the Boss, and, since receiving the 
 commission to hunt up Rosenthal and lay down the law to 
 him, he felt it part of his duty to assume the position of 
 protector to her ; not that she needed any special protection, 
 but, knowing her influence over Mr. Dent, it might prove 
 worth something to him. He was anxious for every oppor- 
 tunity to show his prowess and devotion in her behalf. His 
 zeal on one occasion nearly got him into serious trouble. 
 A wealthy young rowdy, a son of one of our first families, 
 was insolently paying his advances to her and using lan- 
 guage not to be tolerated in a well regulated brothel. 
 Mugsy came into the parlor in conformity with his duty as 
 bouncer, and mildly remonstrated with him, knowing him 
 as he did, and his standing in society. He refused to leave 
 the parlor or cease his annoyance of Miss Montague. So 
 the only resort left was to put him out. The young gentle- 
 man resisting with all his might, Mugsy had to use force, 
 so he dragged the obstreperous one toward the rear entrance 
 — the route by which all ejectments took place. On reaching 
 the alley the young hopeful became combative, and he was 
 found by the watchman next morning lying in the rear of 
 the Bloragarten house, badly disfigured and unconscious. 
 When the ambulance came to take him away, the police 
 
THE INEVITABLE 123 
 
 were in doubt as to whether they should take him to the 
 hospital or to the morgue. 
 
 An investigation followed, which caused madam Blom- 
 garten some annoyance, who in turn censured Miss Mon- 
 tague, as if she was to blame. 
 
 She even had the idea of getting rid of Mugsy, or offer- 
 ing him up as a sacrifice. 
 
 Mugsy Jiad recourse to his friend Mr. Dent, who, on 
 hearing his story and some corroborative testimony from 
 his favorite courtesan, promptly interviewed the madam in 
 reference to the matter, telling her, at the conclusion of the 
 interview, to shut up; which she did effectively, at the same 
 time adding, ''I will have my attorney watch the matter. 
 
 The parents of the boy, fearing a scandal, and hoping 
 it would be a warning to him, dropped the matter entirely. 
 Whenever Mr. Dent came to pay his favorite a visit, 
 should he happen to meet Mugsy, who, as a rule, was found 
 on the first floor, and frequently near the entrance, his first 
 inquiry would be : ^^ 
 
 ^' How's Clem, is she in?" If the answer was Yes, 
 he would follow with "Is she engaged? If not, tell her I 
 want to see her." And after giving Mugsy a tip, which he 
 invariably did, he made his way to Clementina's room to 
 await her arrival. 
 
 Mugsy went in search of her, and, on finding her, whis- 
 pered, "The Boss is upstairs; he wants to see you." 
 
 On one occasion, before leaving, Dent inquired of Mugsy 
 if he had heard anything of the Ike Rosenthal gang, and if 
 he thought they still had it in for Clem. 
 
 "Nothing doing, sir. I have met some of them, and 
 tried to sound them, but I could not get them to refer to 
 the matter. I some time feel as if I wish they would. If 
 
124 THE INEVITABLE 
 
 they do, and its a knock, I '11 make the bunch eat out of her 
 hand." 
 
 Dent smiled on Mugsy, and said, "Keep a lookout any- 
 how, and, if there's any trouble, you know you can rely 
 upon me." 
 
 "Thank you, sir." 
 
 ** Clementina Montague was by far the most attractive 
 girl in Madam Blomgarten's establishment. Young and 
 ladylike, of a retiring disposition, she was held in high 
 esteem by the wealthy young profligates who patronized the 
 institution in which she was a reluctant victim. Her popu- 
 larity had its penalties. Outraged nature began to drive 
 the bloom from her cheeks, which Madam Blomgarten per- 
 sisted in her restoring by an increased use of rouge. So 
 that, ere two years had passed in Madam Blomgarten's, she 
 was like a faded flower, and the madam began to weigh the 
 time when she would be more of an incumbrance than an 
 asset. Dent, however, long past the middle age, when the 
 blood begins to run cold, still admired her, and was her 
 steady patron and supporter. This secured for .her the 
 fealty of Mugsy, who guarded her as carefully as would a 
 watch-dog. 
 
 In the early stages of her career, Madam Blomgarten 
 tried to reserve her for Jier wealthy patrons. Should what 
 the madam designated a "piker" try to make advances to 
 her, if she caught Clem's eye, she frowned and shook her 
 head. If the man proved persistent and Clem could not con- 
 veniently refuse him, the madam would send for her, as 
 if she was already engaged. When she arrived, the madam 
 would say, "Pass him up, he's no good." 
 
 At the present stage of her existence, that we are now 
 chronicling, Madam Blomgarten expected her to hustle for 
 
THE INEVITABLE 125 
 
 patronage, as she had younger and fresher recruits to look 
 after who required her fostering care. 
 
 During her two years in the bagnio, she was seldom on 
 the street, the dread of being recognized by some one who 
 knew her, her parents or friends, keeping her indoors. 
 The confinement also told upon her once vigorous constitu- 
 tion, as did the longing for news from home of how the 
 loved ones were getting on. She wondered if Matt Howard 
 was married. She hoped he was, and happy. Many were 
 the tears she shed, the sighs she gave in the seclusion of her 
 room, when she was alone. "But it is all over," she would 
 say to herself. * ' My only hope is they may think me dead ! ' ' 
 
 And, dear reader, how many thousands of girls, led by 
 the deceit of men or the cunning of monsters, who, having 
 been brought to a life of shame, have not been tortured with 
 similar thoughts ! Martha Hill was no exception. 
 
 Martha Hill had been three years in the service of the 
 Blomgarten woman, when she was stricken with a disease 
 peculiar to such institutions, and the inevitable fate of all 
 who persist in a life of shame. The girl herself was ignor- 
 ant of the fact, or the consequences thereof, until she had 
 brought misery to others. 
 
 Dinah, the colored woman, suspicious of the cause of 
 Miss Montague's indisposition, learned the facts, and made 
 the announcement to her mistress, who nearly foamed at 
 the mouth when she heard the news. 
 
 "My God!" she exclaimed. "What trouble that girl 
 has given me! "When was Mr. Dent here?" 
 
 "Three or four nights ago." 
 
 "Oh, dear me ! Oh, dear me ! "What will become of us? 
 I must get rid of her right away. Reaching for the tele- 
 phone, and getting Central, she asked for a number; after 
 a lapse of a few seconds she got a response. 
 
126 THE INEVITABLE 
 
 "Is that you ?" The answer seemed satisfactory. 
 
 ''There is one of my girls gone wrong, I want you to 
 have her removed right away." * * * * <'To the hospital, 
 to be sure. Yes ! Yes ! Call me up as soon as you have made 
 arrangements. ' ' 
 
 She hung up the receiver, and began to review all the 
 troubles she had since Martha Hill was betrayed, drugged, 
 and enslaved, in her house of hell; overlooking both the 
 profit and prestige she had brought to the establishment. 
 
 The telephone rang. She placed the receiver to her ear. 
 "Yes, this is Sadie. All right. Thanks. Good-bye." 
 
 "Dinah, you tell her to get dressed and ready to go. 
 Good riddance! And tell Mugsy to get a cab." 
 
 The colored woman went to Miss Montague's room and 
 informed her of her mistress' wishes. 
 
 "Where are they going to send me?" 
 
 "To the hospital." 
 
 "Do you think I'm very bad, Dinah?" 
 
 "Yes, I think you are, Miss." 
 
 Martha burst into tears. 
 
 "Dere's no use you crying, Miss. I'm very sorry for 
 you, but it's best you go." 
 
 The girl dressed and descended to the back parlor, 
 where the madam was awaiting her. She was met with a 
 frown. No semblance of pity or compassion was to be seen 
 on the face of the worse than harlot. 
 
 "I understand you are very ill?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am." 
 
 "You should have exercised more care." 
 
 "Martha Hill, with her head bowed down, paid no at- 
 tention to her censure. 
 
 "I am going to get you into the hospital — a bill of ex- 
 pense to me, I suppose," as she looked sternly at her slave. 
 
THE INEVITABLE 127 
 
 "Mugsy will be here in a few minutes with a cab for 
 you. I see you are ready to go," 
 
 The girl had no reply to make. Broken in spirit, the 
 victim of a loathsome disease, she had no recourse, but to 
 bow to her owner's sovereign will. 
 
128 THE INVALID 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE INVALID 
 
 Clementina Montague was but two weeks in the hos- 
 pital, when a fellow patient loaned her a newspaper. In 
 scanning it over she noticed an item under the caption: 
 
 " A SCANDAL IN HIGH SOCIETY." 
 
 It read as follows : 
 
 There was a fracas yesterday evening in the Unity 
 Club, which startled the members of that eminently respect- 
 able and exclusive organization. The facts are, as far as 
 our reporter could learn: 
 
 A young member, a scion of one of our best families, 
 vigorously laid his cane over the head and shoulders of 
 another member much his senior in years, and would have, 
 no doubt, done him serious injury, if it were not for the 
 prompt interference of other members of the club who were 
 in close proximity to the combatants at the time. The par- 
 ties to the fray immediately left the building, on being 
 separated. Our correspondent, learning the names of the 
 two parties to the dispute, visited the home of the younger 
 one for the purpose of obtaining his version of the affair, 
 but was informed that the party he sought had no informa- 
 tion to give out. On visiting the palatial residence of the 
 
 elder gentleman, he was informed that Mr. D was not 
 
 at home, and it did not seem as if the butler, who answered 
 the door, knew anything whatsoever of the affair. The 
 mystery attached to the matter is, firstly, that the two com- 
 
THE INVALID 129 
 
 batants are closely connected by marriage, and, secondly, 
 that it was very apparent that the elder man had given 
 no provocation, at least, on the night of the fray, that would 
 warrant such an attack. So that our expectant readers, 
 who gloat over such choice morsels of gossip, will have to 
 await further developments which, it is presumed, will be 
 of a sensational character. 
 
 Miss Montague's intuitive mind seemed to grasp the 
 situation. She knew that her friend, Dent, was a member 
 of that very exclusive organization, and the news item which 
 
 gave the letter D with a stroke to partly obliterate the 
 
 identity of one of the parties, confirmed her in the belief 
 that it was no less a personage than her old patron. Each 
 day after, when she could get a paper, she searched the 
 columns diligently to see if there was any further reference 
 to the affair, but could not see any, so she believed it had 
 been but a misunderstanding which had amicably been 
 settled, or probably she had been mistaken in her surmise 
 and that her friend Dent was in no way implicated. 
 
 It was a consoling thought to her after all. As such 
 friends go, Dent was the most loyal and considerate of all 
 her numerous male acquaintances. 
 
 She was pleased, one day, to have a visit from the big 
 blonde, who was the only one of her sisters in misfortune 
 who seemed to have either time or inclination to visit her. 
 
 "I am so glad to see you, Verona. It is so kind of 
 you to call on me," was Clem's greeting before the blonde 
 had time to place on the table at her bedside the fruit and 
 flowers she had brought with her. 
 
 "Well, Clem, how have you been getting on since I 
 saw you last?" 
 
 "I have been very sick, and in great pain. What's the 
 news from the house?" 
 
130 THE INVALID 
 
 "There's been h to pay. Old Dent has got into 
 
 trouble with his wife's family. Her brother slugged him 
 one evening at the club they both are members of. He 
 hasn't been near the house since you left. But some people 
 have been making inquiries about him. The madam said 
 she didn 't know him at all. They laughed at her, and asked 
 her if she knew a young lady by the name of Clementina 
 Montague. Then the madam got on her ear, and told them 
 to get out; she had no information for them. On leaving, 
 one of them remarked, laughingly, "You may have, later." 
 
 "What is it all about?" inquired Miss Montague, rais- 
 ing herself on her elbow in the bed. 
 
 "Don't you know, you innocent?" 
 
 "No!" 
 
 The blonde smiled. "You know when you took sick?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Didn't Dent visit you, a few days before it devel- 
 oped?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then, that's all there's to it." 
 
 The light dawned upon the sick woman, who lay baelc 
 in bed, covering her head with the sheet to hide her eon- 
 fusion. 
 
 The big blonde, who, it seemed, had a big heart, tried 
 to console her, 
 
 "Cheer up," she said. "Whatever harm has been done 
 has been done, and can't be helped now, so there's no use 
 of you fretting over it." 
 
 "Yes, but think of the misery I have been the cause of 
 to others. I wish I had died first." 
 
 "The unintentional cause, girl; the ever dreaded risk 
 of our calling! Few there are who escape, in spite of all 
 our caution, and men who consort with us must take their 
 
THE INVALID 131 
 
 chances. You, however, have been particularly unfortunate 
 in having contracted one of the most serious maladies known 
 to medical science." 
 
 "Do you think I'll get better, Verona?" 
 
 "I hope you will, but, in the meantime, content your- 
 self, and don't do any fretting over Dent. He has made 
 thousands of dollars out of us girls, and he's in a position 
 to take care of himself. And, if he isn't, you can't help him. 
 But I must be going. I see the nurse is looking impatiently 
 at me, so good-bye. I will call to see you again in a few 
 days." 
 
 Clementina Montague lay back in her bed, gazing into 
 space. Her whole past career seemed to rise vividly before 
 her : her happy virtuous home, her departure, the fatal meet- 
 ing, the attic. She shuddered at the thought of the brutal 
 treatment she had received while there, her initiation into 
 the society of the courtesans, her introduction to Dent, with 
 its ultimate disastrous results, the blank future before her 
 — it all seemed spread before her as in a panorama. At 
 length nature's great restorer came to her relief — sleep, 
 oblivion — but no ! she dreamed, as she had often done be- 
 fore, of the loved ones at home, until rudely awakened by 
 the nurse, who aroused her so that the interne might make 
 his daily examination as to her condition. When he was 
 through, he looked significantly at the nurse. "You will 
 have to give her a little stimulant," he said, as he left, "she 
 don't seem to improve." 
 
 "Weak as she was, she was eager to scan the papers. 
 She was anxious to learn if there was any news in refer- 
 ence to the Dent case, and it helped to pass the time. The 
 nurse on her rounds one day observed her reading the paper. 
 She took it out of her hand. "I cannot let you read, Miss; 
 vou want rest." 
 
132 THE INVALID 
 
 "But I am interested in something I thought I might 
 see in the papers." 
 
 ''That may be so, but the only thing we are interested 
 in is your recovery. We also object to you having any 
 visitors, as we notice, after they have left, your fever has 
 increased." 
 
 "I have not many who come to see me." 
 
 "Have you no relations? Of course, we would not re- 
 fuse them, but in this ward, in particular, we do not encour- 
 age any to come who are not intimately connected, or 
 specially interested in the patient." 
 
 "I have no relatives, and now it seems there are but 
 few who care to come to see me." 
 
 "There is that big woman who comes, she seems inter- 
 ested in you, we tried to deter her from coming, as we 
 noticed after her visits you seem to be more despondent 
 and your fever increases, but she has a special permit. "We 
 must, however, discourage any lengthy stay on her part." 
 
 "It is very kind of you, nurse. I know what you are 
 saying is best for me ; but, as she seems to be about the only 
 friend I have left, don't stop her from coming to see me." 
 
 "No, we won't; but you tell her yourself not to stay 
 too long." A hard thing for the poor, sick girl to do, who 
 looked anxiously forward to her visits. 
 
 On the next occasion of Verona's visit to the hospital, 
 ere she could deposit some cake and fruit she had brought 
 with her, she exclaimed, "I have lots of news for you, 
 Clem; but, if you don't promise you won't get excited, I 
 won't tell you a thing." 
 
 Miss Montague raised herself on her elbow on the bed, 
 and, while a sickly smile illumed her face, pointing to a 
 chair, said, "Sit down, Verona, I am so glad to see you, 
 and it's so kind of you to bring me all the nice things you 
 
THE INVALID 133 
 
 do. I am afraid I will never be able to repay you for your 
 kindness." 
 
 ''Don't mention it, girl, but do you know, Clem, they 
 tried to prevent me from coming to see you?" 
 
 ''So I understand. They don't encourage visitors in 
 this ward, as many of the women in here are in such bad 
 shape. I haven't been able to get around much, but I am 
 told some of them are much disfigured, and people are apt 
 to gaze on them as they pass their cots." 
 
 "Well, I suppose that's right, but I have a permit." 
 
 "How did you get it, Verona? You must have a 
 *puir," smiling. 
 
 "It was this way: I have a friend on the County Board, 
 he's a brick, a first-class fellow, and, on one of his visits to 
 the house, I had him in my room, and told him I had a sick 
 friend in the hospital, and that they did not want to let 
 me in to see her." 
 
 "I'll see about that," he says. "And the very next day 
 I had a pass by mail. That's going some, isn't it, Clem?" 
 
 "Yes, I am sure I am thankful to him also, as, if they 
 wouldn't let you in, I might as well be in the grave v/here 
 I would, at least, not hear the moans of some of the poor 
 creatures who are in here. But what's the news?" 
 
 "You'll first promise me you won't get excited?" 
 
 "Yes, I promise." 
 
 "Well, Mrs. Dent has got a divorce from Dent, the 
 papers have been full of it, and, in filing her complaint, 
 she made you co-respondent. She herself is away in a sani- 
 tarium, but, as you know, her people are very wealthy, and 
 they engaged one of the leading law firms in Chicago to 
 handle her case. Their investigators were around, to see 
 the madam, but she stood pat, positively refusing to give 
 
134 THE INVALID 
 
 them any information. It seemed, however, that they didn't 
 need her. I suppose, if they had, they would have made her 
 cough up. Some one, however, had been leaking, as it 
 would seem they had all the dope they wanted. It was first 
 thought it was some of the girls in the place, but they all 
 denied it. Mugsy was furious. He swore if he knew who'd 
 peached he'd cut their hearts out. He has a suspicion it 
 was Ike Rosenthal, or some of his gang, that is at the bot- 
 tom of it, and furnished the evidence for the complainant. 
 The reason they had not come to see you was Dent had 
 sufficient influence with the politicians who run things to 
 have the house physician certify that you were too low to 
 have you interviewed, that it might cost you your life. So 
 the warden prevented the newspaper men or the lawyers 
 from coming to see you." 
 
 Miss Montague began to breathe heavily, and a flush 
 came over her face, as the blonde went on with the narra- 
 tive. Verona hesitated, seeing the effect her story was 
 causing. "Go on," gasped the invalid. 
 
 "When the day of the trial arrived, the court room was 
 crowded, the elite of Chicago was in attendance, believing 
 they would hear something spicy. I got in early, and had 
 a good place. I noticed Rosenthal and some of his pals were 
 present — he had a place within the rail. The Dent family's 
 doctor was pointed out to me. He was in conference with 
 her lawyers. As soon as the judge put in an appearance we 
 were all on the 'que vive', with our ears cocked, anxious to 
 hear what was going on, but we were sadly disappointed. 
 Dent was there, surrounded by his lawyers. He seemed 
 awfully excited, and was as pale as a ghost. His grit seemed 
 to have left him entirely. The judge asked, 'Are all parties 
 engaged in this case ready to proceed?' One of Mrs. Dent's 
 lawyers said, 'We are ready, your honor.' One of Dent's 
 
THE INVALID 135 
 
 lawyers spoke up and said, *We will be ready in a few 
 moments. ' 
 
 I noticed one of Dent's lawyers going over to where 
 Mrs. Dent's lawyers were. He had a whispered conversa- 
 tion with them. When he returned to his colleagues, there 
 was more whispering. Then one from each side went up to 
 where the judge sat, and had a whispering with him. After 
 a little talk, he went into his chambers, all the lawyers fol- 
 lowing him. After a few moments, Mrs. Dent's father was 
 called in, as was also the doctor. The crowd in the court 
 room began to get very impatient, "We waited around for 
 a full hour. When we saw the judge come out, followed by 
 all the lawyers, and Mrs, Dent's father, the bailiff in the 
 court rapped for order, and then the judge spoke up, say- 
 ing, 'The case of Dent versus Dent has been settled; Mrs, 
 Dent being granted a divorce, with full custody of her 
 
 children; Mr. , on behalf of his daughter, refusing to 
 
 accept any alimony; an arrangement has been agreed upon 
 by the representatives of Mr, Dent, and acceptable to the 
 friends of the complainant, by which Mr, Dent has con- 
 sented to set aside a considerable sum for the benefit of the 
 children, ' 
 
 "All eyes were on Dent, He seemed very despondent. 
 Mrs. Dent's father and brothers then left the court room, 
 followed by a number who seemed to be friends of her family. 
 I noticed one of her lawyers went over to where Rosenthal 
 stood, and shook hands with him. Ike was laughing at 
 whatever he said to him. Then the crowd in the court room 
 began to file out. I heard one man say, if they hadn't been 
 rich all their dirty linen would have had to be washed in 
 open court. Those who came from a distance went away 
 rip-roaring mad. 
 
 "But, Clem, I was nearly forgetting. You remember old 
 
136 THE INVALID 
 
 Barclay? They say he's in trouble too. His frau has gone 
 and left him. And Young Johnson — you know him — he was 
 a good friend of yours, and used to spend lots of money. 
 He's gone to Hot Springs to get boiled out." 
 
 At this stage of Verona's gossip she observed that Clem 
 Montague was paying no attention to her. She stood up, 
 and looked at the girl in the bed. She was lying on her back, 
 her eyes seemed glazed and directed toward the ceiling. 
 Verona, believing her friend was in a state of collapse, and 
 going toward where a nurse stood, remarked, "I think 
 Miss Montague is not so well today." 
 
 "She was all right this morning," replied the nurse. 
 
 "Well, you'd better go see her," The nurse went to 
 the cot where Clem lay, and after the most casual examina- 
 tion summoned an interne, who in turn summoned the house 
 physician. He, on looking at his patient, inquired, "Has 
 she had any visitors today?" The nurse responded, "Yes, 
 that woman who has the permit." 
 
 "Then, for the future, permit or no permit, you must 
 not allow anyone to see her without my special sanction. 
 She is very low, and has a high fever. Come to my office, 
 and I will give you instructions, and a prescription. In the 
 meantime keep a careful watch over her. I fear her brain 
 is affected." 
 
 That night, those close to her bedside heard her con- 
 stantly appealing to some persons, one by the name of 
 Robert, and another by the name of Matthew Howard, to 
 come and save her, as if she was in constant dread. 
 
THE CONVALESCENT 137 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 THE CONVALESCENT 
 
 For a full month after the visit of the big blonde, on 
 which occasion she informed Miss Montague of the divorce 
 proceedings against her old friend and patron, Mr, Dent, 
 Clementina in the delirium of brain fever raved incoher- 
 ently about certain people. The nurse and attendants oft 
 listened to see if they could hear something that would give 
 them a clue to her relatives whom they might summon to 
 her bedside ; the physician, in common with all around her, 
 having little hopes of her recovery. 
 
 They knew where she had come from on being brought 
 to the hospital, but, on inquiry there, no information could 
 be gleaned as to who she was, or whence she came. 
 
 The madam, on being interviewed, stated she came there 
 like many other of her girls and solicited board. **I took 
 her in and had her for three years. Latterly she was very 
 wayward and careless, in fact I had a lot of trouble with 
 her. I was, however, sorry when she took ill ; she was callous 
 and didn't seem to care what trouble she gave to others. 1 
 lost some of my best patrons over her." 
 
 "Do you think any of your other girls could give us 
 any information about her friends or relatives?" 
 
 "No, I don't believe they could. She was very close, 
 and never took any of us into her confidence. I used to 
 have a woman here who seemed to pal in with her. She left 
 about three weeks ago in a tantrum, and is now staying at 
 Miss La Roque's, a French house on Twenty-Second street. 
 
138 THE CONVALESCENT 
 
 You might see her, but please don't mention my name in the 
 matter, as the woman at La Roque's and I are not very 
 good friends. The woman you want to see is named Verona. 
 She's a big blonde." 
 
 "Well, the girl's going to die anyhow, but the warden 
 thought he would try and locate some of her family, so as 
 to give them an opportunity to claim the body if they 
 wanted it." 
 
 "Why, what would they want with it? Besides, I 
 thought the surgeons might practice on her." 
 
 "No, we have hundreds like her, who die from the same 
 cause. They're a drug on the market. The warden and 
 house physician have an idea she was a girl of some educa- 
 tion and refinement, and probably might have some well- 
 to-do friends whom they would like to notify. I'll go over 
 and see the woman on Twenty-second street, and see if she 
 knows anything about her." 
 
 "Take a drink before you go. What will you have?" 
 She touched a bell to summon a waiter, "What is it to be?" 
 
 "I'll take a little brandy." 
 
 "Bring this gentleman a good drink of brandy." 
 
 "I suppose you smoke?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am." 
 
 "And a couple of good cigars." 
 
 The man left with the impression that Madam Blom- 
 garten was a very estimable lady. 
 
 On his reporting at the house on Twenty-second street 
 and inquiring for a girl by the name of Verona, he was 
 ushered into the parlor. It being early in the afternoon, 
 Miss Verona was not made up. She was scantily attired, 
 but a commodious kimono covered her ample form. Her 
 blonde locks were unkempt from the night before, and 
 looked somewhat like a capacious mop of tow. She looked 
 
THE CONVALESCENT 139 
 
 at her visitor on entering the parlor, and made a little 
 apology for not being over-presentable. She surmised that 
 his object in coming was not that of the ordinary caller. 
 
 ''Well, my man, what's your trouble?" was her greet- 
 ing. 
 
 "You know a girl by the name of Clementina Mon- 
 tague, who is in the hospital?" 
 
 "Yes, is she dead?" eagerly. 
 
 "No, not when I left, but very near it." . 
 
 "Poor Clem! I knew her well. We boarded at the 
 same house for three years. Madam Blomgarten 's, the old 
 cow." 
 
 The investigator received a shock, when he heard such 
 disparaging remarks about the lady he had seen so recently, 
 and of whom he had formed so favorable an opinion. 
 
 "Yes," said the blonde, continuing, "that old b 
 
 treated poor Clem outrageously. You see she was an easy 
 mark, and, when she began to run down, madam made her 
 accept anything that came along." 
 
 "I have been over to see her, and it was she that sent 
 me to you. What I want to find out is, do you know any 
 of the girl's friends that we could communicate with, as 
 we don't think she'll last long?" 
 
 "Poor Clem! I am very sorry to hear that. I used 
 to go to see her, but they refused me admittance. I haven't 
 seen her for a month." 
 
 "I think you could see her now, if you wanted. They 
 would not be likely to object." 
 
 "Then I'll go this very day." 
 
 "Did she ever tell any one, to your knowledge, where 
 she came from?" 
 
 "No. She was brought to the resort by a cadet. She 
 was a beautiful girl then, and soon had lots of friends. The 
 
140 THE CONVALESCENT 
 
 madam, the old she-wolf, made a harvest out of her; but 
 she took unkindly to the life, and was somewhat despondent. 
 We never could get anything out of her as to where she 
 came from, and I am sure she never told any of her male 
 admirers. The past few months, before she sickened, she 
 was run down considerably, and began to lose patronage. 
 Then the madam was ugly to her because she wasn't bring- 
 ing much grist to her mill — but I always stuck up for her. ' * 
 
 "Well, as I can't find anything as to her relatives, I 
 may as well go back and report. So I'll bid you good day." 
 
 That afternoon, the blonde made application at the 
 hospital. She was instructed to go to the office and see the 
 house physician. That gentleman treated her very cour- 
 teously, when she met him. 
 
 "So you have come to see Miss Montague?" he said. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Well, you can see her, but she will be hardly able to 
 recognize you. I have very little prospect of pulling her 
 through — but you know the old proverb, 'while there's life 
 there's hope'." 
 
 Verona, on reaching the bedside of her old associate, 
 was surprised at the wonderful change. The girl lay in a 
 semi-conscious condition. 
 
 "I am afraid she is about to cash in her chips," look- 
 ing at the nurse, who assumed to take no notice of the 
 vulgar remark, as she considered it, in the presence of the 
 dying. 
 
 "How long has she been in this condition?" inquired 
 the blonde. 
 
 "On the day of your last visit, she seemed to collapse. 
 Brain fever set in, and, on account of her weakened con- 
 dition, she has never seemed to rally." 
 
 "Can nothing be done for her?" 
 
THE CONVALESCENT 141 
 
 "No more than has been done; in fact, the house phy- 
 sician has given her special attention. He thinks she has 
 been a girl of some acquirements and training." 
 
 "So she was, and no doubt has friends somewhere, who 
 would be willing to help her. Do you think I could get her 
 a little extra attendance for a consideration?" 
 
 "No, you can't do much for her." 
 
 "What I mean, could I get some of the patients who 
 are able to get around to moisten her lips, or fan her — if 
 you think that would do any good?" 
 
 "Probably it might be well to have some one close to 
 her to notify us of any change in her condition, for better or 
 for worse. There's a poor girl there who, like herself, is 
 friendless, and a little change, I'm sure, would be very 
 acceptable." 
 
 "Call her over, please." 
 
 "Here, Maggie," addressing a girl about Clem's age, 
 "this lady wants to speak to you." On the girl coming 
 forward, Verona addressed her: 
 
 "Miss, I am interested in this sick woman, and would 
 like you to pay a little attention to her. See if she wants 
 for anything, and here's a couple of dollars for you." 
 
 "Thank you, ma'am. I'm sure I'll do all I can for her. 
 She's like myself, an unfortunate." 
 
 "I'll be back again in a few days, and give you some 
 more ; and, nurse, if she should die, please notify me at 
 once. Here's my card," which read "Verona Larsen, No. 
 22nd St." 
 
 The nurse was impressed with the generous sentiment 
 of the blonde, and, giving a casual glance at the directions 
 on the card, surmised her calling. 
 
 Verona, hearing no news from the hospital for four 
 days, decided on paying another visit. On arriving at the 
 
142 THE CONVALESCENT 
 
 wicket where inquirers have to tell whom they want to see, 
 and on stating her mission, she was again referred to the 
 house physician, who, on recognizing her, said: 
 
 "Well, your friend is still living, but if I permit you 
 to see her it will be only for a few moments, and then you 
 must not talk much to her. She's had a change for the 
 better, so here, "giving her a card, *'go up and be careful." 
 
 ''When she reached the bedside, she was pleased to 
 notice Maggie gently fanning the sick woman. 
 
 Clem recognized her, and essayed to speak. The big 
 blonde placed her finger to her lips, and sat down on the 
 chair vacated by the temporary nurse. She then took the 
 sick woman's palsied hand in hers and smiled. 
 
 Clem Montague stared at her, and again essayed to 
 speak. The blonde placed her fingers to her lips. 
 
 Clem smiled at her, knowing that she meant silence. 
 
 The nurse, coming forward, greeted Verona. "You 
 see a marked change for the better in your friend," in a 
 low tone, "what she wants now is quiet. Maggie here has 
 been very attentive to her." 
 
 Clem looked at the girl, an outcast like herself, and 
 smiled her indorsement of the nurse's recommendations. 
 
 Verona stood up, and, taking Maggie aside, gave her 
 instructions and a two-dollar bill. I am thankful to you 
 for what you have done for my sick friend. Now as she is 
 on the way to recovery, probably she will require a little 
 more attention. So, when I come next week, I'll treat you 
 better." 
 
 "I am sure it is very kind of you, ma'am, and I'll do 
 all I can for her, but they talk about sending me out of 
 here in a few days, and I'm sure I'm not fit to go." 
 
 "I'll try and have you kept here a little longer. What's 
 your name?" 
 
THE CONVALESCENT 143 
 
 On the girl giving it, Verona made a note of it. 
 
 **I must go now." Going over to the bed, she took 
 Clem's hand in hers. "Mum's the order of the day," she 
 whispered to her. "I'm not allowed to talk to you. Will 
 see you in a few days, so good-bye." 
 
 Verona lost no time in seeing her county commissioner, 
 and secured a stay for Maggie, whose gratitude was shown 
 in the attention she gave to her patient, as she called Clem, 
 who rapidly improved. Verona visited her often, and, 
 M'hen she was able to indulge in little dainties, Verona saw 
 that neither she nor Maggie went short. In time Clementina 
 was able to go around, and hold communion with others 
 like herself, and was on a fair way to recovery. At the end 
 of four weary months she was notified that she was now 
 ready to be discharged. Her heart sank at the information. 
 She had to go — BUT WHERE? 
 
144 ''NECESSITY KNOWS NO LAW" 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 " NECESSITY KNOWS NO LAW." 
 
 The morning Clementina left the hospital she stood like 
 one dazed, still weak, her mind distracted at the thought 
 
 of where she should go. Home to B was out of the 
 
 question ; and to return to Madam Blomgarten, even if she 
 would take her in, was unthinkable. On entering the 
 hospital she had a few dollars. But she had indulged in a 
 few luxuries that her improving condition made her crave 
 for, and had been generous to some less fortunate financially 
 than herself. Maggie in particular shared in her bounty. 
 
 After some thought, on reaching the street, she decided 
 to visit Verona at the house on 22nd street without a 
 moment's delay. 
 
 It was an agreeable surprise to Verona, who embraced 
 her, then stood her off, so as to get a better look at her. 
 
 "My, Clem, how you have failed ! You were never very 
 plump, now you are so thin you could hardly cast a shadow." 
 
 "You know what I've gone through, Verona." 
 
 Yes, girl, but you must have rest and plenty of fresh 
 air. You haven't been to see the madam yet, have you?" 
 
 "No, this is my first call, but I will have to see her, as 
 I have a trunk and some things there that I am anxious to 
 get and dispose of. I will need some money." 
 
 "Well, I daren't go with you. When I left I had a row 
 with her, and, if it hadn't been that Mugsy was present, 
 I would have given her something to remember." 
 
"NECESSITY KNOWS NO LAW" 145 
 
 **I suppose then I will have to face her myself." 
 
 "Where do you expect to sell your things? You know 
 the girls in the resorts are not allowed to buy anything ex- 
 cept through the regular channels, and most of the clothes 
 you have are only suitable for women of our calling. So 
 I'm afraid you won't get much for them." 
 
 "Little or much, they will have to go, as I will have 
 no further use for them." 
 
 "Why, what are you going to do?" 
 
 "Seek a situation. I don't care what, so that I will be 
 able to keep myself." 
 
 "Why, you silly girl! You're not fit to do anything. 
 Who would look at you and employ you?" 
 
 * ' I intend, if I get sufficient out of the goods I have, to 
 take a couple of weeks' rest before I look for anything. I 
 may gain strength and look better, but advise me where 
 am I likely to sell my things. If I try to pawn them, they 
 would hardly give me anything on them, and, if they did, I 
 would probably never release them." 
 
 "The only place I know where they buy such things 
 is on State street — there's where the girls dispose of their 
 surplus, or when they want to get a little ready cash." 
 
 "Then we will have to try them." 
 
 "You go ahead, then, and get your trunk, or will you 
 wait until after dinner?" 
 
 "I intend to go at once, as I need the money." 
 
 "Then I'll tell you what you'll do. You get a cab, and 
 drive over — you're hardly fit to walk — and I will be waiting 
 for you at the corner of Harrison and State. Don't keep 
 me waiting longer than necessary." 
 
 On arriving at Blomgarten's, the madam received her 
 very coldly. 
 
146 "NECESSITY KNOWS NO LAW" 
 
 "I suppose you have come for your things?'* she re- 
 marked. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am, I came to remove them." 
 
 "They're up in the storage room. Dinah will show you 
 where they are." She called Dinah, who, on her arrival, 
 was told to show Miss Montague where her trunk was. 
 
 Dinah was as cold as her mistress. She pointed the 
 trunk out. Clem turned the goods over, and, missing some 
 of the best, said, "Dinah, they are not all here." 
 
 "Well, Miss, I don't know anything about what you 
 had, and if there's anything missing you'll have to see the 
 missus about it." 
 
 "You know, Dinah, I had more than is here." 
 
 "I'se supposed to know nothing. Miss." 
 
 "Well, I'll see the madam." 
 
 On reaching the parlor where madam sat, and on mak- 
 ing her complaint, the lady of the house immediately showed 
 some temper. 
 
 "You don't want to infer I took them, do you?" 
 
 "I don't want to charge you or any one else with steal- 
 ing, but all my things are not there. You know I had — " 
 mentioning a few things which were not in her trunk. 
 
 "Well, I don't know anything about them, and I have 
 no time to waste on you. You have already caused me too 
 much trouble. So take what there is and go." 
 
 Clem Montague, seeing the futility of arguing with 
 the brothel keeper, summoned the cabman, who carried the 
 trunk down stairs and placed it on the front of his cab. 
 
 "Drive to the corner of Harrison and State streets," 
 was her order, as she entered the cab. Verona was there 
 ahead of her. 
 
 "I see you've got them," was her remark, as she en- 
 tered the cab. 
 
"NECESSITY KNOWS NO LAW" 147 
 
 "No, only some of them; most of my best things were 
 taken." 
 
 "The old thief," was the blonde's remark, as she took 
 her seat. "What w^e'll do now," continued the blonde, 
 "we'll drive to where I stay, and call the woman who buys 
 such things up on the phone, and, while we are waiting for 
 her, we can get a little lunch." 
 
 A typical Jewish woman, who made it a special business 
 to buy the cast-off clothing of the women in the high class 
 resorts, and sell them to those who were roomers, or deni- 
 zens in the slum localities, appeared promptly at La Roque's 
 shortly after noon. She examined the goods with a critical 
 eye, and then offered fifteen dollars for them. Clementina 
 was very much disappointed, shocked that the articles which 
 had cost her probably two hundred dollars brought but 
 fifteen! 
 
 Verona Larson ridiculed the offer. 
 
 "You see," said the woman, "there is little market for 
 clothing of this description. None but sporting women and 
 the cheap vaudeville actresses can use them. I may have 
 some of them on my shelves for years." 
 
 "Do you know what they cost?" said Verona. 
 
 "That's no criterion," promptly responded the dealer. 
 "You girls are bled to death having to pay twice or three 
 times the value of every thing you purchase." 
 
 "You'll give more than fifteen for them, or else we 
 won't sell them," said Verona. 
 
 The woman turned them over again, and raised the 
 price to seventeen dollars. 
 
 "No, twenty dollars or no sale." Clementina Montague 
 left the bargaining to her friend. 
 
 The JeAvish woman complained, critised, and ran down 
 the goods as being old-fashioned, soiled, and frayed. But 
 
148 "NECESSITY KNOWS NO LAW" 
 
 Verona was firm, and, as a final result, after many protests 
 as to being imposed on, the dealer produced the twenty 
 dollars, and the sale was effected. 
 
 That afternoon Clementina Montague secured for her- 
 self a room in a flat building on South Halsted street, pay- 
 ing two dollars a week in advance. The woman who acted 
 as agent asked no questions as to the occupation or stand- 
 ing of her tenant. 
 
 The room was scantily furnished. A cheap iron bed, 
 a table, washstand with jug and basin, and a few chairs. 
 A clothes closet was part of the room. There were no cook- 
 ing utensils or crockery, except a glass and jug for water. 
 The occupants of those rooms were expected to eat out. 
 
 Clementina, on receiving possession of her room, threw 
 herself on the bed, for it was at least a haven of rest. She 
 slept, and after a couple of hours rose refreshed, washed 
 and combed her hair, and then went out to eat. Before she 
 went to bed that night she counted her resources and found 
 she had still left nineteen dollars and twenty-three cents, 
 which she thought ample until she could get a situation, 
 and commence a new life. Still feeble, she determined to 
 rest for a couple of weeks, which she spent in visiting the 
 parks, with an occasional call on her friend Verona, who 
 returned her visits, until one afternoon Verona Larson in- 
 formed her she was going back to St. Louis, where she be- 
 longed. Clementina was very much depressed with the 
 news, as Verona, crude as she was, was the only loyal friend 
 she had left. 
 
 *'I am sorry you're going away, but I suppose your 
 people are living there." 
 
 "Yes, I have an old mother. I have sent her money 
 regularly. She thinks I am forelady in a big house." 
 
*' NECESSITY KNOWS NO LAW" 149 
 
 "I, too, have a mother living," sighed Clem. "I wish 
 I could go back to my old home and see her, but that's im- 
 possible. They all think I am dead, and I often wish I were, 
 but you'll write to me, Verona, won't you?" 
 
 "Yes, sure, so good-bye! I must be going," 
 
 When she had left, Martha Hill figured she hadn't a 
 friend in the world she could turn to. Two weeks of idle- 
 ness sadly depleted her exchequer, so she started out one 
 Monday morning to seek a position. Her first call was on 
 a labor agency, that taxed her two dollars, and inquired 
 what kind of a position she wanted. 
 
 "I am not particular. My choice, however, would be 
 with a respectable family as chambermaid, assistant cook, 
 or nurse." 
 
 "I suppose you have good reference from your last 
 place?" 
 
 This was an unexpected obstacle that Martha had never 
 thought of. 
 
 "You know, Miss, no good family would take you in 
 without reference." 
 
 "Then, I have none. Do you think you could get me 
 a position in a store?" 
 
 "What experience have you?" 
 
 "I am a country girl. I have a fairly good education, 
 and could act as clerk." 
 
 "Well, I don't know of anything at present. You can 
 come around in a few days. In the meantime, if anything 
 turns up I will write you." 
 
 She resolved not to wait, but seek a place through the 
 newspapers, which had columns of "want ads" for girls in 
 nearly every station in life. So she started out each morn- 
 ing to call on as many as her strength would allow, to be 
 met with the answer "too late," or "what experience have 
 
150 "NECESSITY KNOWS NO LAW" 
 
 you had ? " or " what we want is young girls. * ' She returned 
 home many nights disheartened and weary. Her courage 
 began to fail her. 
 
 The labor agency, which had got her two dollars, in- 
 formed her they were doing the best they could, but the 
 labor market was glutted at present, and that having no 
 references her opportunities were very limited. 
 
 Ere a month was over, after disposing of her only valu- 
 ables, her resources were nearly exhausted. She began to 
 limit her supply of food. Tea, bread and milk were all she 
 could afford. On the fifth M^eek she gave the landlady her 
 last two dollars, and had hardly money to furnish her with 
 the bare necessities of life. Still there was a flicker of hope, 
 so she determined to hold out. On the sixth week, when 
 her rent became due, she could not meet it. The landlady 
 told her the owner of this property never lets his tenants 
 go back in the rent, "so, if you are unable to pay, Miss, you 
 will have to get out." 
 
 During her stay in the flat building, on the same floor 
 were many rooms. Mostly occupied by young women, she 
 had often of an evening, when she sat alone, heard them 
 going to their rooms accompanied by men. She surmised 
 what their purpose was, and in sheer desperation, one even- 
 ing, when she had only a crust of bread and a little milk 
 the whole day, and the threat of ejectment by the landlaly 
 hung over her head, she set out. 
 
THE ROUND-UP 151 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 THE ROUND-UP. 
 
 Clementina Montague went in the direction of Madi- 
 son street, and, turning west, noticed many women accost- 
 ing men, bent on the same errand as she was herself. She 
 let many men pass her, not having the courage to address 
 them, many of whom gazed significantly at her as she turned 
 her head away from them. 
 
 At length one, on reaching her, said, *'Good evening, 
 Miss." She stood and responded to his salutation. 
 
 "Where are you going?" he inquired. 
 
 ** Nowhere in particular." 
 
 **Just out for a stroll?" 
 
 **Yes, sir." 
 
 ** Looking for a sweetheart, I suppose?" 
 
 "I wouldn't mind." 
 
 "Where do you live?" 
 
 **I have a room of my own on Halsted street, No. ." 
 
 "Will you take me to it?" 
 
 "Yes, if you want to go." 
 
 "What will you charge?" 
 
 "Just what you would like to give me. I am very poor, 
 and cannot be too exacting." 
 
 "Give me a good time?" 
 
 "I will try to please you." 
 
 "Well, you come with me. I am a police officer.'* 
 
 She begged pitifully for him to let her go. 
 
152 THE ROUND-UP 
 
 "This is the first night I have been out, and have been 
 driven to it by want and hunger," she cried. 
 
 "That's the old gag. You can tell your story to the 
 justice in the morning," 
 
 Just then, a number of girls ran by. The officer who had 
 Clem in charge tried to grab one of them as they passed, 
 but having to hold on to Miss Montague, who, he was bound, 
 should not escape, the fleeing girls avoided him. Ere the 
 officer had started along with his prisoner, two other officers 
 came along, each having two girls in his charge. 
 
 "Bring her along, Mike," said one of them addressing 
 the officer who had hold of Clem, who still was pleading 
 with him. He said gruffly, "Come along. I've no time to 
 fritter away with you." He held her by the arm. 
 
 Seeing her appeal would avail her nothing, Clem walked 
 by the side of the man. On the road they were joined by 
 others, till it seemed like a procession; the people on the 
 sidewalk laughing, and guying the girls as they were led 
 past them. 
 
 Reaching the station, the place was crowded with 
 women of all ages, colors and conditions. Some of them 
 were the worse for liquor and persisted in giving lip to the 
 officers, who only laughed at them. When one was extra 
 violent or offensive, she was grabbed by one of the officers, 
 led to the stairs leading to the cells, and rudely shoved 
 down. Some there were who were so much the worse for 
 drink that they fell in a heap to the bottom of the stairs, 
 and had to be dragged to the cell in which they were thrown. 
 Many were bailed out promptly. A justice or, more prop- 
 erly, an injustice was on hand to go through the matter of 
 form, and earn his dollar. 
 
 The lieutenant, who just arrived, after looking over the 
 
Brixc. Hkr Along AIike' 
 
THE ROUND-UP 153 
 
 motley group, smiled, as he said to the desk sergeant, ''A 
 pretty good haul tonight, Serg." 
 
 "Yes, sir," touching his hat. ** We've booked ninety- 
 seven already, and they're still coming." 
 
 There was a ruddy-faced man at the clerk's desk, sign- 
 ing bonds as fast as the clerk could arrange his papers. 
 
 Many of the girls, who were waiting for their release, 
 passed ribald remarks about the "pinch," laughing as if it 
 was a joke. 
 
 Several who were friendless were ultimately led down 
 stairs, among them Clementina Montague, and placed in 
 cells, as many as five and six in some of them, to await trial 
 in the morning. 
 
 It was a night of horrors. Dante could have found an- 
 other scene to illustrate his conception of the abode of the 
 eternally damned. 
 
 Some there were who screeched out foul epithets against 
 the minions of the law ; some sang ribald or lewd songs ; 
 others raved in their delirium. There were occasional fights 
 where, after considerable hair pulling, the combatants had 
 to be placed in separate cells ere peace could be restored. 
 Even then, the close proximity of the compartments gave 
 inmates an opportunity to tongue-thrash each other in un- 
 printable language. In the cell Clementina Montague was 
 placed there were five other occupants, one, a coarse, \'nl- 
 gar colored woman, who persisted in talking to herself in 
 spite of the protests of others, who called her "the black 
 
 b " and threatened her with violence. There was little 
 
 accommodation in the cells, the occupants having either to 
 stand up, or squat on the floor. 
 
 One of the occupants of the cell Miss Montague was in, 
 though a veteran, sat silently on the floor. At length, notie- 
 
154 THE ROUND-UP 
 
 ing Miss Montague, who sat beside her, she said, "So they 
 got you in the 'round up'?" looking at her. 
 
 "I don't know what you mean?" 
 
 "Oh, is that so? Is this the first time you were here?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then you've been fortunate. I've been here a dozen 
 times. I'll be bailed out in the morning, and then told to 
 go hustle, the professional bailer and the judge having got 
 their bits. You see them and the police and politicians all 
 stand in, and, whenever they want to bleed us girls, the 
 word is given to 'round us up.' We'll all be turned out 
 tomorrow. ' ' 
 
 "I have no friends," replied Clementina, "there will 
 be no one to bail me out. ' ' 
 
 "Don't be too sure of that," remarked the girl, "the 
 bond shark may take a chance with you. He runs no risk 
 anyhow, as they all stand in — even the tool on the bench; 
 he gets a dollar a head for us as his share, a part of our 
 earnings. When we get out tomorrow, they'll probably let 
 us alone for a couple of weeks, then the police will be very 
 sociable with us, especially if you give them part of the 
 proceeds." 
 
 It was near morning before a lull came over the place. 
 The drunks, exhausted by their hilarity, lay on the floor of 
 their cells, and all was quiet, except an occasional scream 
 or oath from some of the cells. 
 
 Shortly before the judge arrived, all the women who 
 still remained were taken to a large room adjoining the 
 court, to await their turn to be called. Others, who had been 
 bailed out the night before, sat on forms in the body of the 
 court room, some were in groups — those were from the 
 houses which had been pulled. A well-dressed woman, the 
 madam of the establishment they were from, sat in their 
 
THE ROUND-UP 155 
 
 midst. Occasionally a lawyer would hold conference with 
 her, or a policeman would nod and smile at her — she show- 
 ing no resentment, as she knew it was the order of the day. 
 
 In the pen, as it was called, the ruddy-faced gentleman 
 made occasional trips to confer with some of the inmates, 
 with whom he seemed acquainted. On one occasion, notic- 
 ing Miss Montague, who seemed alone, he approached her 
 and inquired her name. 
 
 ''Clementina Montague." 
 
 *'I don't remember ever seeing you here before." 
 
 "No; this is the first time I have been here." 
 
 *'Then you're new in this district?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Have you no friend to bail you out?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "That's too bad. I would bail you out if you would 
 agree to pay me back," At this moment the name of 
 "Clementina Montague" was called by the clerk of the 
 court. The officer who arrested her came in to convey her 
 to the court room. 
 
 "Wait a while, Mike," said the bondsman to him. 
 "Pass her case." The officer returned to the court room. 
 
 "What do you say?" said the ruddy-faced man. 
 
 "I don't see any way to pay you back. Besides, I don't 
 care what they do with me." 
 
 "Well, if that's the way you feel, all right," and he 
 returned to the court room. 
 
 Clementina's case was called, the policeman coming for 
 her and lining her up in front of the bar. 
 
 The judge looked at her over his spectacles, and then 
 at the officer. 
 
 "Your honor, this woman was found soliciting on Madi- 
 
156 THE ROUND-UP 
 
 son street yesterday evening. I watched her accosting a 
 number of men, and then felt it my duty to arrest her." 
 
 "What have you to say for yourself?" said the judge, 
 looking at some papers on his desk, and seeming to take 
 little notice of the prisoner. 
 
 "What the officer says is not true." 
 
 The judge raised his head, and frowned at her. The 
 policeman only smiled. 
 
 "Well, what were you doing on Madison street?" in- 
 quired the judge. 
 
 Clementina held down her head. 
 
 His honor waited a moment for a reply, none coming. 
 
 "We are going to stop this street walking," he said, 
 severely, "which is becoming so prevalent In that business 
 thoroughfare." He looked over at the bondsman, as if 
 waiting for a cue, but the bondsman assumed to take no 
 notice. Turning to the prisoner, he said, "Twenty-five dol- 
 lars and costs." 
 
 She stood as if in a stupor, when the policeman took 
 her by the arm and led her back to the pen. 
 
 The professional bondsman followed them into the room. 
 
 "I see the judge soaked you," he said. 
 
 She made no reply. 
 
 "Three months in the bridewell," the policeman re- 
 marked, laughing, "will teach her not to contradict an 
 officer again, and I want to serve notice on you," looking 
 at her, "every time I catch you on the streets I'll run you 
 in." He then left. 
 
 She was indifferent to his remarks. 
 
 "I'll tell you what I'll do," said the bondsman. "I'll 
 pay your fine and costs, and, as there's no use of you going 
 on the streets, you'd better go into some good house for the 
 
THE ROUND-UP 157 
 
 time being. I won't press you too hard for what you'll 
 owe me." 
 
 The policemen came to remove those who still remained 
 in the large room. 
 
 "Dwell a moment," said the bondsman, when one of 
 the officers went toward Clementina. 
 
 "All right, ," said the policeman. 
 
 "What do you say?" addressing the prisoner. 
 
 "As you will," was her reply. 
 
 He immediately left the room, and went over to where 
 the judge was still sitting, and whispered something to him. 
 The judge called the clerk to him and said, "That fine of 
 Clementina Montague is suspended." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 The bondsman went with the clerk, and gave him some 
 money. Court expenses, particularly the judge's rake-off, 
 had to be paid. He then returned to the room where Clem- 
 entina Montague was still sitting. He brought a young man 
 with him. 
 
 "Well, I've fixed things for you. Now take care of 
 yourself." Turning to the young man, he said, "Take her 
 over to Kanter's and tell Kate I will be over to see her." 
 
 "Good-bye, Miss," he said, as he extended his hand to 
 his dupe. 
 
158 THE SURPRISE 
 
 CHAPTER XXn. 
 
 THE SURPRISE 
 
 The little town of B had grown rapidly since the 
 
 time of Martha Hill's disappearance. No man had profited 
 more by its increasing importance than had Matt Howard, 
 who ran the general store. Always an attentive business 
 man, after the final search for Martha had been given up, 
 he seemed to settle down with but one object in view, to 
 make mouey. With the young women who came into the 
 store he was always sociable, but he seemed to treat all 
 alike. He had no preference for any of them. Bob Hill 
 and he were constant pals and neither had much time to 
 waste on the girls, though Robert was known to think highly 
 of one of Howard's sisters, with whom he used to gossip 
 when he went over to the store to meet Matt. The men- 
 tion of Martha's name had been dropped entirely. It awoke 
 unpleasant memories, all knew it. So none dared to revive 
 it. Bob had also shared in the general prosperity. He was 
 now chief engineer at the large mill, and drew a liberal 
 salary. So the Hill family was living on Easy street. Of 
 course the old couple could never entirely hide their grief. 
 If their girl only lay in the graveyard they would have been 
 satisfied — they knew she was dead, but where, buried in 
 an unknown grave, or perhaps lying at the bottom of Lake 
 Michigan, murdered, or killed, or drowned by accident, 
 'twas all the same. They were denied the poor comfort of 
 weeping over her remains or tending to her last resting 
 place. The old couple might talk over the sad mystery by 
 
THE SURPRISE 159 
 
 themselves, but never in the presence of Bob or the other 
 children. It made them unhappy, without doing good — 
 when she left they were fortunate in having a photograph 
 of her. Bob had sent for and got an enlarged picture of her 
 in a fine gilt frame. It was placed in the most prominent 
 place on the parlor wall. Matt Howard never came to the 
 Hill home but he glanced up at the picture to see if it was 
 still there. 
 
 Matt Howard, like the other business men at B , 
 
 always gave his orders to drummers. The salesmen had 
 many samples put up at the hotel after notifying them of 
 their coming. Howard being the best risk in the town, 
 besides the largest buyer, his trade was courted. If there 
 was a bargain he got a friendly tip from the salesman in 
 advance. If it had to be a cash transaction it made no dif- 
 ference to Matthew. The money was in the bank, as his 
 account was seldom overdrawn. One time, a strong induce- 
 ment was ofiEered to Matt to make a very large purchase. 
 He knew the price was right, but his deposit in the bank 
 was considerably shy to cover the deal. He thought before 
 he would close the deal he would see the bank president. 
 
 ''I have a splendid offer of a large line of goods I can 
 buy; it has to be cash. I thought I would come over and 
 find my limit." 
 
 "You can't find it," said the president, smiling at him. 
 
 "But it's so much!" replied Matt, mentioning quite a 
 large sum. 
 
 "Is that all?" said the president, looking at him. "If 
 it is, go and cinch the lot; give him your check, I'll take 
 care of it. You can ask him if he has any more at the same 
 price, if you think it is right." 
 
 Matt thanked the president of the baak, went and 
 secured a bargain, which his customers shared in, because 
 
160 THE SURPRISE 
 
 Howard was a fair dealer; when he bought cheap he sold 
 cheap. Deals like this put him in good standing with all 
 the salesmen for the big houses. Drummers met in the hotels 
 of an evening and gossiped, as well as tried to amuse them- 
 selves. One of them had a line he had orders to sell, the 
 firm wanted to unload. 
 
 "Go and see Howard," was a frequent suggestion. If 
 it was a new man, he might say, "But you see they want 
 cash for them. ' ' 
 
 "Then you go to see Matt Howard, he's your man." 
 
 Matt sometimes warned the travelers that he would go 
 up to Chicago, as he felt sure they were sticking him. 
 
 "You come, Matt," said the representative of the great 
 firm of Dent & Company. "We'll pay all your expenses, 
 and entertain you while you're there." 
 
 It was only a bluff of Matt. He hadn't time. 
 
 "Come now," said the drummer. "I dare you to 
 come!" 
 
 "Well, I may some day. But when I do I'll pay my 
 own expenses, and not put you fellows to the trouble of 
 adding it to the prices of what I buy of you." 
 
 The drummer laughed. "You're all right. Matt, but 
 come anyway." 
 
 In the fall of the year, Matt decided that he would 
 take a run up to Chicago and buy some winter stock. He 
 made known his intention to Bob Hill, and pressed him 
 hard to go with him. 
 
 "Come, Bob," he said. "It won't cost you a cent." 
 
 "I would very much like to, but I can't get away. 
 There's no one I could leave in my place, and we're work- 
 ing double shift. Besides, you know I have often been in 
 Chicago." This remark brought a gloom over them both. 
 
THE SURPRISE 161 
 
 They knew what Bob's mission was during his many trips, 
 so the subject was dropped. 
 
 When Matt Howard handed his card to a man who sat 
 at a desk, just as you entered the office of the great whole- 
 sale establishment of Dent & Company, the man took the 
 card to an inner office, came out in a few moments, and 
 said: 
 
 "This way, Mr. Howard." 
 
 Howard was ushered into a private office. As he went 
 in he noticed on the glass door the word "president." A 
 gentleman well up in years rose to greet him when he 
 entered. 
 
 "Mr. Howard, I am very much pleased to meet you. 
 Sit down; my name is Dent." 
 
 .'Oh yes, Mr. Dent, I have often heard Mr. Small, the 
 man who represents you in the district our town is situated 
 in, speak of you." 
 
 "Indeed, I hope that he don't talk bad of me?" 
 laughing. 
 
 "No, he speaks well of you. He says you're a good 
 business man, and an all around good fellow." 
 
 "I think I'll have to raise Small's salary," smiling. 
 "Well, I'm sorry Small's not in the city at present, or I 
 would hand you over to his care. How long do you intend 
 to stay with us?" 
 
 "Four or five days." 
 
 "Well, then we will not have much time to lose," 
 ringing a bell. A man put his head in at the door. "Is 
 Mr. Stubbs in?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Tell him I want him." 
 
 In a few minutes a well dressed man about thirty-five 
 years of age entered the private office. 
 
162 THE SURPRISE 
 
 "Stubbs, shake hands with Mr. Matthew Howard of 
 
 Howard and Stubbs shook hands, 
 
 "Bye the bye," remarked Dent, "I forgot to ask you 
 if you smoke," reaching over and picking up a box of 
 cigars. Howard took one. 
 
 ' ' Stubbs, take a cigar. Now, Mr. Howard is only going 
 to stay a few days with us, and, lest he gets lost in this 
 great big city, I want you to show him around. Do you 
 ever go to the theatre, Mr. Howard?" 
 
 "Well, we haven't much of a theatre in our town," 
 said Howard, smiling. 
 
 "You'll most likely want to go one night. Stubbs find 
 out what's the best show in town and get tickets for it, 
 and see to it that when Mr. Howard goes back home he 
 will have a good impression of Dent & Company. Have 
 you secured a hotel yet, Mr. Howard?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. I left my case at the Palmer House." 
 
 "Well, I have put you in good hands, Mr. Howard, and 
 of course I'll see you before you go." 
 
 Howard remarked to Stubbs, when he got out, that 
 Dent was a pretty fine fellow. 
 
 "An all around sport," whispered Stubbs. 
 
 Stubbs held on to Howard like a sticking plaster. Mat- 
 thew had little opportunity to visit any establishment that 
 was in competition with the firm of Dent & Company, 
 
 Wherever they went, Stubbs paid the bills. 
 
 Matt Howard remonstrated about the third time there 
 was a settlement. 
 
 "Do you want me to get fired?" said Stubbs, laughing 
 at him. "Why, you're Mr. Dent's guest while you're in 
 Chicago, and I'm his proxy." 
 
 Matt laughed, as he put his money back in his pocket. 
 
THE SURPRISE 163 
 
 Stubbs seemed to be very well acquainted wherever he 
 went, introducing Howard to a great number of people. 
 The first night they spent at Hooley's, after the show hav- 
 ing supper in a swell restaurant. 
 
 "This is a pretty gay place," remarked Howard, as 
 he looked at the showily dressed women with their escorts. 
 
 "That's nothing to what we have south of here," re- 
 marked Stubbs. "I suppose you've heard of the White 
 Elephant?" 
 
 "Yes," said Matt, laughing. "I've some idea what you 
 mean." 
 
 "Well, if you'd like to see him I'll show you both sides 
 of it." 
 
 "Is it safe?" inquired Howard. 
 
 "As the Bank of England, if I'm with you." 
 
 "Well, I wouldn't mind. There's no one knows me 
 here." 
 
 "Then all right; we'll start out tomorrow evening. 
 But, mind you, we mayn't get home till morning." 
 
 "If I get home all right, I don't care." 
 
 "No daiiger. There is no use starting out until after 
 ten o'clock. I'll call for you at the hotel. You needn't 
 bring much money with you, not that you need fear losing 
 it." 
 
 Stubbs was at the hotel at the appointed time. 
 
 "Now, Howard, I'll first show you the gilded side. It's 
 only a little distance from here, so we'll walk." Arriving 
 in front of a large building, "This place is kept by a woman 
 by the name of Blomgarten. It's one of the swell ranches." 
 
 Howard felt some embarrassment as he went up the 
 marble steps, and entered the house. The negro bowed to 
 Stubbs as he entered. 
 
 "The madam in the parlor?" he inquired. 
 
164 THE SURPRISE 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 Stubbs stopped, and looked into the parlor. Howard 
 peered over his shoulder. 
 
 A stout woman came to the door. *'How are you, Mr. 
 Stubbs; aren't you coming in?" 
 
 "Yes, this is a young friend of mine from the country. 
 Pm jiist showing him the sights." 
 
 "Well, bring him in, he's welcome. Do you want me 
 to introduce him to one of my girls?" 
 
 "Well, that's up to him, but send us a bottle up to the 
 corner there," pointing to the back parlor, "and send us 
 a couple of your fairies to help us drink it." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Stubbs, you never treat my girls with proper 
 respect. How's the boss? He don't come here now as 
 often as he did before the accident, the dear man." 
 
 Stubbs walked toward the rear parlor, followed by 
 Howard, Many of the women nodded to Stubbs, who smiled 
 at them. 
 
 Matthew Howard had never seen such well-dressed 
 women in his life. A bottle of champagne was brought and 
 four glasses. In a brief time, madam was seen bringing 
 over two young women. "You havn't introduced me to 
 your friend yet, Mr. Stubbs?" 
 
 "Oh, I forgot. Mr. Jones, of Nebraska, Madam Blom- 
 garten. ' ' 
 
 Matt's face lit up, and Madam Blomgarten bowed and 
 welcomed him to her "little place," as she called it. "Miss 
 Lemoine La Blanche, Mr. Jones; Miss Seraphina Trudell, 
 Mr. Jones. Now I hope you four will enjoy yourselves." 
 The waiter filled the glasses and stood as if waiting for the 
 money. "Charge," said Stubbs. The waiter turned and 
 left. 
 
 Miss La Blanche began a conversation with Howard 
 
THE SURPRISE 165 
 
 as to how long he would stay in the city. The front parlors 
 were fairly full of people. The piano was playing, and some 
 were waltzing. 
 
 "Do you dance, Mr. Jones?" inquired the young lady. 
 
 "No, I unfortunately have not that accomplishment." 
 Stubbs and Miss Trudell were talking in an undertone and 
 the name of Dent and Montague cropped out occasionally. 
 "I was awfully sorry for poor Clementina," remarked Miss 
 Trudell. "She was a nice girl when she came here first." 
 
 "Well, Jones, we'll have to be moving," said Stubbs, 
 rising. "We'll probably see you girls later." 
 
 Howard began to think Miss La Blanche was a very 
 sweet girl. He was somewhat loath to leave her, but fol- 
 lowed Stubbs, after he had shaken hands with the mistress. 
 "I hope you will call again, Mr. Jones," said the young 
 woman, smiling up in his face. 
 
 "Come on," said Stubbs. 
 
 ' ' What was your hurry ? ' ' inquired Howard, when they 
 got on the outside. 
 
 "I'm going to show you through," replied Stubbs. "If 
 you want to come back, I've no doubt you will find your 
 own way." Howard laughed, as he remarked, "Well, I 
 thought she was a pretty swell girl." 
 
 Stubbs showed him through two other places, in all of 
 which the guide seemed to be well acquainted. It was almost 
 twelve o'clock, when Stubbs said: 
 
 "Now I'll show you another feature of the same kind 
 of life. But, as we're going to the West Side, we'll have 
 to get a cab over at the depot here." 
 
 Securing a cab, he told the driver to take them to 
 Lake and Peoria streets. As Howard got out of the cab, 
 he looked around with some alarm at the number of tough- 
 looking men and women, some negroes mingling with white 
 
166 THE SURPRISE 
 
 people standing around the saloon doors. Both men and 
 women talking in loud tones, the music of pianos and 
 stringed instruments could be heard in each of the houses. 
 "This seems a pretty tough place," remarked Howard, who 
 began to feel a little nervous. 
 
 "You bet," said Stubbs. "A man don't want to be too 
 gay around here." They walked along Peoria street till 
 they came to a two-story frame building, the two front 
 windows of which were covered with white blinds. There 
 was a face up against the glass of each, a glaring light over 
 the transom showing the number in large figures. 
 
 "A woman by the name of Kate Kanter keeps this 
 place," whispered Stubbs, as they were climbing the wooden 
 steps leading to where the lights were. The noise of many 
 people talking at once could be heard amid discordant 
 laughter and the thumping of a piano. 
 
 As Howard followed Stubbs into the house, a woman 
 accosted Howard in a familiar manner. 
 
 "Hello, young sport. " Howard followed Stubbs in 
 without seeming to notice her remark. As they entered the 
 parlor, Howard noticed that a number of the women were 
 smoking cigarettes, others were sitting on fellows' knees. 
 The place looked coarse and brutal in comparison with what 
 he had seen on the south side. Stubbs walked right over to 
 where there was an unoccupied table and sat down. Howard 
 sat with his back to the company. Two women came im- 
 mediately forward and, sitting down beside them, said, 
 ' ' Good evening ! ' ' 
 
 "How do, girls?" said Stubbs, in a cheery manner. 
 "Take a drink with us?" 
 
 "Sure!" 
 
 "Well, bring us a couple of quart bottles," said Stubbs 
 to a waiter, who was standing attention. 
 
THE SURPRISE 167 
 
 "That's the way to talk," said one of the girls, who 
 was nearly loaded at the time. ''Are you going to stay all 
 night?" she whispered to Howard, who began to feel un- 
 comfortable. 
 
 "Well, we're going to look around a bit first," said 
 Stubbs, hearing her remark to Howard. 
 
 "Oh, just as you please," she rejoined. 
 
 "Well, don't get mad," said Stubbs. "Take a drink of 
 the beer." 
 
 "I don't care for beer." 
 
 "Well, take something else, nothing too good for you." 
 
 "Give me a little red eye," said the girl, addressing the 
 waiter. "Here, Josie, take some of this beer," she con- 
 tinued, handing one of the bottles over to a party that sat 
 at an adjoining table. 
 
 Howard began to feel angry at the liberty she was 
 taking. 
 
 Stubbs only laughed, as if it was a good joke. 
 
 "Here's Kate herself," remarked Stubbs, as a tall, raw- 
 boned woman entered the room. She came over to where 
 Stubbs was sitting, and, tapping him on the shoulder, said, 
 "How do, old sport! I haven't seen you for some time. 
 How's tricks?" 
 
 "Pretty good. Will you join us?" 
 
 "I don't mind if I do. Get up!" she said to the girl 
 who had given away the bottle of beer. "You're piped!" 
 
 Howard felt some relief, as the girl went away. 
 
 "What are you going to have, Kate, a little wine?" 
 
 "I don't mind if I do. Bring me a little port." 
 
 "Bring a bottle," said Stubbs. When the port was 
 brought, the waiter brought four glasses with it. 
 
 "Pass that beer over to that other table," said Stubbs 
 to the waiter, as half of the bottle beer still remained. 
 
168 THE SURPRISE 
 
 "I won't drink anything but beer," remarked Howard. 
 Kate filled his glass and handed the bottle over to where 
 some other girls sat. Four glasses of port wine had been 
 filled out. Stubbs took one, the woman who sat down when 
 they first came in took another. Kate, seeing a spare glass, 
 turned around and said, "Here, Clementina, take a glass o? 
 wine." 
 
 Howard turned his head to see who the newcomer was 
 At sight of her he bounced from his chair. He stared at 
 the girl as if she were a ghost. The girl dropped her glass 
 from her liand; it 'was smashed to pieces on the floor. 
 Howard continued to stare at the woman, who staggered 
 back, and, falling in a seat, bowed her head between her 
 knees. 
 
 "What's up?" said Stubbs, in alarm. 
 
 "I-thought-I-knew-her !" gasped Howard. 
 
 "Maybe you did," said Kate. "Probably she's an old 
 flame, but that's no reason you should break the glasses, or 
 upset the wine." Howard in his excitement had upset the 
 bottle on the table. "She's there at your service, if you 
 want her." 
 
 "Yes, I want her." 
 
 "Sit down!" shouted Stubbs. 
 
 "No, I'll see you later." 
 
 "Well, do you want me to wait for you?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "Come, Clementina, business," said Kate. 
 
 Matthew Howard went over to where the woman still 
 sat with her head bowed down. He caught her by the arm. 
 She rose and they left the room together. 
 
 "Look here, Kate," said Stubbs, "that young fellow's 
 a friend of mine. See to it that no harm befalls him. When 
 
THE SURPRISE 169 
 
 he is ready to leave, order a cab, and send one of your men 
 with him, if need be. You know me, I'll foot the bill." 
 
 "All right, Stubbs, old man. I '11 take care of him Per- 
 haps you had better wait. He'll likely be down soon." 
 
 **No, I'm going. You do as I tell you." 
 
170 THE STORY 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 THE STORY. 
 
 "When Matthew Howard stood facing Martha Hill in a 
 room on the second floor of Kate Ranter's house, neither 
 could speak for a time. Howard gazed with pity on the 
 girl he had known from childhood, as she stood with bowed 
 head. 
 
 "Matthew," she said, at length, looking into his 
 agonized face, *'you don't want me?" 
 
 "No, Martha, there was a time when I did, but under 
 conditions sanctified and honorable to us both." 
 
 She sat down and began to cry. He rested his head on 
 his hands. He seemed bewildered. At last he inquired: 
 
 "How came you here, Martha? "We thought you dead." 
 
 "Would I were; I have often hoped I was." 
 
 "Tell me what terrible misfortune brought you to this 
 life, to this wretched place?" 
 
 "It's a long and painful story, Matthew. While it is 
 long since I have been shocked at the recital of any story, 
 no matter how vicious, I still hate to tell you." 
 
 "Yes, but you must have some explanation to make — 
 
 some reason to explain. When you left B we all thought 
 
 you a pure girl. Surely you didn't come to Chicago bent 
 on following a life of shame?" 
 
 "No, Matthew, I had no such thought. My only desire 
 was to seek an honorable calling, a situation by which I 
 could help my parents. But I was wronged, trapped, sold 
 
THE STORY 171 
 
 into slavery, as are thousands of other innocent girls who 
 come to this more than wicked city to seek employment." 
 
 **How could it occur to you, you were an intelligent girl 
 — a woman for your years?" 
 
 "I will tell you if you'll promise to never let my people 
 know. They believe me dead ; 'tis well. My coming to life 
 would only open the wounds afresh — to know the life I lead 
 would be worse than death to them." 
 
 "Martha," he said, rising and going toward her, "I 
 can make you no such promise. You must leave this place. 
 It would kill me to think you would remain here an hour 
 longer. ' ' 
 
 **Ah, no, Matt, I am here to stay, until turned out to 
 find a place still more degraded, where women are more 
 unnatural, more abandoned, and where they resort to drugs 
 to blunt the last semblance of their womanhood." 
 
 "Horrible! Can any place be Avorse than this?" 
 
 She nodded her head. 
 
 "You remember the day you left us, Martha, when we 
 set you on the train, how the girls, your companions, and I 
 with your brother and other young men, wished you suc- 
 cess and a speedy return?" 
 
 "Yes, I will not forget it." She smiled. "When Alice 
 Rainer said, 'Why don't you kiss her. Matt?' when you 
 stood back abashed. Matt, you don't know how much I 
 would have liked you to kiss me that day." Her tears be- 
 gan to flow at the thought. He wiped his eyes, and, going 
 toward her, said, "Martha, though degraded as you seem 
 and, as I am afraid, you are, I will kiss you for the old 
 love. If I had known then, as you lead me to believe now, 
 the feelings you had for me I would have taken you in my 
 arms and held you till the train went on its way. But we 
 were both young; I was shy, and you were reserved." 
 
172 THE STORY 
 
 "True, Matt, I was foolish; you were in good circum- 
 stances. My people were poor: that's one of the reasons I 
 was desirous to get away to show you and the rest of the 
 people, our friends, that Martha Hill could win her way. 
 But it's too late now to talk of those things." 
 
 There was a knock at the door. 
 
 "Hush!" she waved her hand to Matthew, as she went 
 to the door. "What is it, Lulu?" 
 
 "Kate wants to know if you two are going to occupy 
 this room all night?" 
 
 "Wait a moment, Lulu." Martha Hill closed the door. 
 "Matthew, you must be going; the woman below thinks I 
 have wasted too much time with you already." 
 
 "I'll not leave here till I hear your story." 
 
 * ' Come now, do ! You don 't want to stay with me ; you 
 would despise yourself after, and I still think too much of 
 you, Matthew." She placed her hands upon his shoulders 
 and looked entreatingly into his face. 
 
 "Are you going to keep me here all night?" said the 
 girl at the door, impatiently. 
 
 "Come now, Matthew, like a good fellow, let us go. 
 Give me a dollar to give her." 
 
 "No, I am going to stay here till you tell me how it 
 occurred." 
 
 "I am afraid to let you stay longer, Matthew love, I 
 cannot trust myself." 
 
 "You need not fear me, but go I won't. How much 
 does she want for her room?" 
 
 "She will expect five dollars." 
 
 "Then give it to her," pulling out a roll of bills. 
 
 "No, I am afraid. Let us go." 
 
THE STORY 173 
 
 Howard went and opened the door. ' ' Tell your mistress 
 we're going to stay all night." 
 
 "Well, she'll want the five. Tell Clem to come to the 
 door till I talk to her." 
 
 ''Here, give the mistress this," thrusting the five-dollar 
 bill into the girl's hand. 
 
 ''You're the right kind of a sport," said the girl to him, 
 as she left. 
 
 Martha Hill had to succumb to Matthew Howard's 
 resolute manner. 
 
 "Now, Martha, you know I'm interested in you and 
 have only one object in view, that is to serve you, so, if you 
 ever cared for me, tell me the truth, how came you to fall 
 so low? Is this tne fii-st place ever you were in?" 
 
 "No, Matt, the girls who come here as a rule are the 
 cast-offs from the more stylish places. Few girls enter on 
 a life of shame here before they come to places like this. 
 They are beyond redemption. I was first sold to a place 
 down town kept by a woman of influence, against whose 
 word her victims have no show. Her name is Blomgarten," 
 
 "I was in there tonight," said Matt with a start. 
 
 She looked hard at him for a moment. "How came you 
 to go into such places?" 
 
 To in part justify himself he had to explain. At the 
 mention of the name of Dent & Company she became 
 interested. 
 
 "I know him well." 
 
 "Now, Martha," he said, "before you begin your story 
 would you like something to eat — some refreshments?" 
 
 "I am not strong, Matt, and I could do with something." 
 
 "Can you send out for anything?" 
 
 "Yes, I'll call the man." 
 
 An unfortunate-looking fellow appearing, Matt ordered 
 
174 THE STORY 
 
 him to go out and bring a nice supper for two, and a bottle 
 of wine. "And there's a dollar for yourself." When he 
 went down he informed the mistress of the house that Clem 
 had a live one upstairs. 
 
 As the two sat and ate, Martha Hill's countenance 
 seemed to undergo a change. 
 
 "Matt," she said, "this is the only happy moment I 
 have had, since I left home." 
 
 Matthew Howard could see the ravages that the life 
 she led had told on her. He was grieved to the heart. He 
 first told her of the efforts that had been made to find her, 
 of the trips her brother had made to Chicago, and of his 
 futile search. He told how they had given her up as dead, 
 and of her enlarged picture that hung in the parlor, of the 
 present condition of her family, and of Bob's advance in 
 his trade. She wept profusely, as he told the story. At 
 its conclusion, he said, "Now, Martha, let me hear from 
 you." 
 
 "Well, if I must, I will," she said. She told him of her 
 standing on the corner, of the very day she left her home, 
 of the affable young man that accosted her, and the con- 
 sequences, how she had been drugged, then taken to and 
 confined in the attic, all her clothing taken from her; how 
 she had been ill-used and brutalized, until, seeing no hope 
 of escape, she had to succumb. Matthew Howard grew pale 
 and sick at heart, as she told the frightful narrative. 
 
 "I am telling you the God's truth, Matt. I am hiding 
 nothing from you." 
 
 "Who was this young fellow that accosted you on the 
 street?" 
 
 "He called himself George Washington, was well 
 dressed, and appeared to be respectable, but he was a decoy 
 — a cadet they call them — whose mission was to entrap girls 
 
THE STORY 175 
 
 for houses of infamy. I never saw him from the time he 
 delivered me unconscious to Sadie Blomgarten until some 
 months after. It was at a ball. I recognized him the moment 
 I saw him and, as he passed the box we M^ere in, I dashed 
 the wine I held in my hand into his face. I learned his name 
 and calling. He was one of the most expert of white slavers, 
 a Jew, his real name was Ike Rosenthal." 
 
 "Does he still live in Chicago?" 
 
 "Yes, and is still practicing his nefarious profession." 
 
 "But why didn't you appeal to the authorities when 
 you first got out?" he inquired eagerly. 
 
 "Authorities!" she repeated. "Why, they would laugh 
 at me, as they have done at other girls. Sadie Blomgarten 
 would produce a dozen witnesses who could swear that I 
 came there of my own free will and brought a fellow with 
 me, the first night I entered her place, and that I was of 
 age, so that she was in no way responsible." 
 
 "Well, why didn't you come home?" 
 
 "Matthew, how could I face my people with such a 
 story, after I had spent weeks in a brothel. I couldn't do it, 
 so hoped they would forget me. After three years I took ill, 
 contracted a disease, and they took me to a hospital. When 
 I got well, I resolved to lead a good life, determined to seek 
 a situation, I didn't care at what, so long as it was honest. 
 I went to Blomgarten 's and took what things I had there, 
 and sold them for less than one-tenth of what I had paid 
 for them, and then secured a room on Halsted street. On 
 coming out of the hospital, in which I had spent four months, 
 I was too weak to work, so I laid up for a couple of weeks, 
 and then went out to seek employment. Day after day I 
 searched in vain. You see I had neither references nor 
 experience. Nor did I appear robust. At length my money 
 was exhausted. The woman from whom I rented the room 
 
176 THE STORY 
 
 was going to turn me out, because I could not pay her the 
 rent. With nothing to eat, driven to disperation, one night 
 I went on the street, willing to beg or sell myself. There 
 was no other recourse. It happened to be the night of the 
 Round-Up. ' ' 
 
 ** What's that?'' inquired Matthew, eagerly. 
 
 "The night the male prostitutes want to levy on the 
 girls' wages of sin." 
 
 Matthew Howard was breathless, as she went on to 
 describe her arrest, the scenes in the cells and court room, 
 the threat of the policeman and the action of the bonds- 
 man, who gave her the alternative of the jail or the brothel. 
 **I had lost all hope," said the disconsolate girl. ''That's 
 how I came here. Dent was a constant visitor of mine at 
 Blomgarten's, I got him into trouble that led his wife to 
 divorce him. Now I have told you all. You see I have been 
 a victim, a slave sold and bought in the market, just as 
 thousands of other girls are in this city of Sodom." 
 
 "Martha,, it's a horrible story. How can such things 
 take place in a Christian country?" 
 
 It was long past three in the morning when Martha Hill 
 had concluded her story. 
 
 "I will have to go," he said. 
 
 "No, Matt, you can't go tonight. Those corners are 
 too dangerous for a stranger to go abroad. You must sleep 
 here in that bed, but not with me." 
 
 "I think I could get to my hotel all right." 
 
 "Maybe so, but I think too much of you to take the 
 risk. You might be watched and followed as you leave this 
 .house. Your very sociability with me, your appearance 
 would lead the prowlers to track your steps. While with 
 me here you are safe. If I had only the luck to have stayed 
 
THE STORY 177 
 
 with you in our own sweet town in Michigan, I too would 
 have been safe. But it hadn't to be, so let it rest, Matt. 
 We cannot bring back the past; you had better retire." 
 She arose, as if to leave the room. 
 
 "No! Sit down, Martha, and let us talk. I am not 
 tired. Can we get another bottle of wine ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes, the saloons are open all night around here. They 
 are the refuge of all the down and outs, the vile and the 
 vicious. It is not for me to moralize, but my downfall com- 
 menced in one of them, as did that of thousands of girls 
 before me. The young single woman w^ho enters a saloon 
 to drink with a man crosses the danger line, for often, yes 
 frequently, the path through the saloon is the highway to 
 the brothel. I'll go call the man and you can send him for 
 the wine. I am used to staying up at night and sleeping in 
 the day." 
 
 In a brief time an old derelict arrived. Howard gave 
 him the money, instructing him to bring a bottle of the best 
 port, which he soon furnished. 
 
 Under the influence of the wine, Martha Hill became 
 voluble, and reminded Matt of their early childhood days 
 and the pranks they used to play. 
 
 "Matt," she said, her eyes sparkling, "do you remem- 
 ber how me and Rachel used to hurl tufts of grass and clay 
 at ye both while you'd be plodding in the dear old creek 
 and how you and Bob used to chase us?" 
 
 "I do, Martha." They both laughed at the recital. 
 
 "And, Matt, do you remember the times I used to stay 
 a night at your house, and how I and Rachel, in our night 
 dresses, would get up and go to your room, and if you were 
 sleeping hurl the pillows at you till you were real mad, and 
 then you'd get up and some times not even take time to put 
 
178 THE STORY 
 
 your pants on, and chase us back to bed?" She laughed at 
 her own recital. 
 
 "Sure I do, Martha. And do you remember the flailing 
 I used to give you both with the pillows you had thrown at 
 me until you both had to shout for mercy ? " 
 
 "Ah, Matt, them were happy days, weren't they?'* 
 
 "Yes, Martha, we had no trouble then." 
 
 And thus they talked for hours, until the gray dawn 
 appeared in the eastern horizon. 
 
 "Martha, do you ever sing now?" 
 
 "No. I have never sung a note, since I left home. I 
 hardly think I could sing now." 
 
 "Suppose you try, if it's not too late." 
 
 "It is never late here, Matt, but I'm afraid to try. I 
 know I'd fail." 
 
 "Come, darling, sing me one of your old songs. You 
 remember the old Irish song your father and all of us liked 
 so well?" 
 
 "I don't remember which one you mean." 
 
 "It was one of Moore's; it was — let me see — it com- 
 mences something like this, Silent, oh Moyle, — " 
 
 "Yes, now I know the one you mean. Let me see, per- 
 haps I have forgotten it." She hummed to herself for a 
 few moments, and then rising said, "I will sing for you. 
 Matt," cleared her throat and began: 
 
 THE SONG OF FIONNUALA. 
 
 Silent, oh Moyle, be the roar of thy water. 
 
 Break not, ye breezes, your chain of repose. 
 While, murmuring mournfully, Lir's lonely daughter 
 
 Tells to the night-star her tale of woes. 
 When shall the swan, her death-note singing, 
 
 Sleep, with wings in darkness furl'd? 
 When will heaven, its sweet bell ringing, 
 
 Call my spirit from this stormy world? 
 
The Swan Song 
 
THE STORY 179 
 
 Sadly, oh Moyle, to thy winter-wave weeping, 
 
 Fate bids me languish long ages away; 
 Yet still in her darkness doth Erin lie sleeping 
 
 Still doth the pure light its dawning delay. 
 When will that day-star, mildly springing, 
 
 Warm our isle with peace and love? 
 When will heaven, its sweet bell ringing, 
 
 Call my spirit to the fields above? 
 
 It would seem as if she was inspired. Her voice rang 
 out loud, clear and melodious ; her heart and soul seemed in 
 the song, and her effort to please. 
 
 There was a commotion down on the first floor. Foot- 
 steps could be heard stealthily climbing the stairs so as to 
 get nearer without disturbing the singer. At the conclu- 
 sion of the song there was loud clapping, with some husky 
 voices shouting, "Bravo! Bravo! Give us another." 
 
 Martha Hill sat down, and, resting her head upon her 
 hands, wept bitterly. Those who had climbed the stairs, 
 awed and impressed by the spark of kindly feeling still 
 left in their breasts, felt commiseration for the unfortunate 
 girl, whose sobbing was plainly audible, so silently retraced 
 their steps without any further demonstration. 
 
 Matthew tried his best to console her, spoke to her in 
 endearing terms, but she was irreconcilable. At length, ris- 
 ing and wiping her eyes, she said, ' ' Matthew, I must bring 
 you clean sheets for that bed; you see it has been laid on." 
 
 Matt himself, harrowed by the painful scene, raised no 
 objection to her leaving the room. His heart was too full 
 for utterance. 
 
 Blartha went out and returning with clean bed clothes 
 made the bed. "Now I will go outside until you strip your- 
 self. You'll want some rest. I am used to sitting up." 
 
 When Martha re-entered the room Matt Howard was 
 in bed. 
 
180 THE STORY 
 
 ''It's not right for me, Martha, to put you out of your 
 bed. You might lie alongside here — ^you need have no fear 
 of me." 
 
 "No, Matt, I'm afraid of myself." 
 
 She left the room. After a time she stole silently into 
 the room where he lay and going over to the bed gazed on 
 him for a few moments and, placing her lips to his, stole 
 silently out. 
 
 When he awoke, it was late in the morning. 
 
 Martha Hill lay stretched, sound asleep, on the rug in 
 front of the door, with all her clothes on. 
 
 He arose and dressed, while she still slept, then went 
 over to where she lay. She was dreaming. He distinctly 
 heard her mutter names of some of those she knew in her 
 early days. It seemed as if her imaginings were pleasant, 
 as she frequently smiled. At length he woke her, she gazed 
 for a moment at him and then at the dismal surroundings. 
 She arose, and the same care-worn look she had the night 
 before settled on her countenance. "I see you are ready to 
 go. Matt?" was her first remark. 
 
 *'No, Martha, I have still some more to learn, and would 
 renew my appeal to you to leave this place. You need not 
 
 go back to B for a time. I will find you a home for a 
 
 week, a month, for a year, till you become yourself again, 
 and in the meantime we can devise some plan or some reason 
 for your long absence, after which you may renew the old 
 life and be happy again." 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 "Come, come, Martha; if you ever loved me, listen to 
 my appeal. Come with me, I am now well off and can amply 
 provide for you. The door is open to you, you are still 
 young and can become a good woman. You used to be 
 religious, well up in the scriptures, and you know the story 
 
THE STORY 181 
 
 of the Magdalene. Come now, don't refuse me." He took 
 her in his arms. 
 
 She shook her head. "Matt, never let anyone know you 
 
 saw me," she said, entreatingly. 
 
 "No, Martha, I will never make such a promise." 
 "Then, Matthew, it is my turn to reason with you. My 
 
 friends believe me dead. It would be cruel to undeceive 
 
 them, the wounds of my loss are already partly healed; 
 
 why open them anew in a more aggravated form? Come, 
 
 kiss me and go." She led him toward the door of the room. 
 
 He followed her down the stairs, reaching the outer door, 
 
 where they stood. 
 
 "Come, Martha," was his last appeal. 
 
 She shook her head. "Promise you will forget me." 
 
 "No, Martha, I cannot do that. Let me give you some 
 
 money. ' ' 
 
 She held up her hands in protest. He had a bill in his 
 
 palm. He shoved it between her dress and her breast, turned 
 
 and was gone. She lingered on the steps till she saw him 
 
 turn the corner of Lake street. 
 
182 THE OATH 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 THE OATH. 
 
 Bob Hill arrived about 7 :30 p. m. at the store. He 
 went over to where Rachel was standing behind the cashier's 
 desk, 
 
 "Matt get back?" 
 
 "Yes, Bob, but he's up in his room. It don't seem as 
 if he had enjoyed his trip." 
 
 "Probably he bought too much goods," said Bob, 
 laughing, "or some of those sharp business men in Chicago 
 have stuck him." 
 
 "Oh, I don't believe that. Matthew generally knows 
 what he wants, and, as for buying too much, you know Matt 
 has no limit when the price is right." 
 
 "Well, I think I'll go up and see him. Likely he ran 
 around too much when he was away." 
 
 In answer to Robert Hill's knock on Matthew Howard's 
 door there was the invitation to come in. Howard knew in 
 advance who it was — his closest and warmest friend, since 
 as boys they had played marbles together. As soon as 
 Robert entered the room and looked at Matthew, he saw 
 something had gone wrong. He was deathly pale, like a 
 sick man. 
 
 "What's up?" said Bob, looking at him. "One would 
 think you had just seen a ghost." 
 
 "So I have. Bob. A ghost, the sight of whom I'll never 
 be able to banish from my mind," 
 
THE OATH 183 
 
 "Oh, don't take it that bad. Business gone wrong, or 
 were you robbed while away?" 
 
 "No! no! A hundred times worse than that." 
 
 "Well, what is it, if it's not a secret?" taking a seat. 
 
 "I saw Martha while I was away." 
 
 "What!" bouncing from his chair. "My sister that 
 we all thought dead?" 
 
 "Yes, Bob, and worse than dead." 
 
 " No ! no ! Don 't say that. Surely this is some horrible 
 mistake of yours — some hallucination." 
 
 "Would to heaven it were, but it's too true. I saw 
 her and spoke to her; talked with her about you and her 
 people." 
 
 "My God! Don't keep me in suspense. Where?" 
 
 "Sit down and compose yourself first. Wait till I 
 close the door." 
 
 "Tell me; tell me quick." 
 
 "Well, I must begin to tell you how first. You know 
 I deal extensively with one firm in Chicago. They consider 
 me a very good customer. When I called at their place 
 I was introduced to the head of the firm — a Mr. Dent. 
 He treated me very sociably, and introduced me to a man 
 by the name of Stubbs, telling him that he had to show me 
 around and entertain me during my stay in the city. The 
 first night we went to the theatre. The following day I did 
 some business. Stubbs made arrangements to call for me 
 at my hotel in the evening, and, while we were smoking, 
 he asked me if I cared to go around and see the sights. I 
 said I didn't care where I went. It was up to him. He 
 said, 'You have heard, no doubt, a good deal of the White 
 Elephant we have here?' At first I didn't know exactly 
 what he meant. He said, 'The red light district, the place 
 where the women are. ' I asked him if there was any danger. 
 
184 THE OATH 
 
 'Not while you're with me.' So I was a little curious and 
 consented to go. The first place he took me to was like a 
 palace. A woman by the name of Sadie Blomgarten runs it. 
 "When we went into the parlor, I saw about twenty of the 
 best dressed women I ever saw in my life — some of them 
 were mere girls. Stubbs seemed to be well known to the 
 proprietress. He introduced me to her as Mr. Jones of 
 Nebraska. After Stubbs had ordered a bottle of champagne, 
 she went over and brought two swell girls, who sat down 
 beside us and helped us to drink the wine. We stayed there 
 a few minutes, watching them dancing and drinking. There 
 were quite a number of men in the place. Then Stubbs said, 
 'Let us be going,' and we went into two other places of a 
 similar character," 
 
 "And you found Martha in one of them!" exclaimed 
 Hill with bated breath. 
 
 "No, Bob; have patience. "When we came out of the 
 third place we'd been in, he said, 'Now while we're out 
 I'll show you the other side of it.' So he hired a cab, 
 and we drove over to the west side of the city and stopped 
 at the corner of Lake and Peoria streets, a miserable 
 looking locality, where any number of tough-looking 
 saloons abound and colored people, men and women were 
 drinking. Some kind of music was heard in every one of 
 them. "We left the cab at the corner, and walked a little 
 way up Peoria street. Nearly every house was lit up. We 
 stopped in front of a two-story frame, where a flight of 
 steps led up to the front door. As I followed Stubbs up 
 I could hear the noise of a lot of women jabbering away 
 to one another. I felt like turning back, but followed my 
 guide into the front room, where a piano was being played. 
 The first sight of the place shocked me. There were girls 
 in short skirts, drinking and smoking. Some of them were 
 
THE OATH 185 
 
 sitting on fellows' knees. I felt disgusted. We walked 
 through to the back end of the place. It was like two rooms. 
 We sat down at a table, I with my face to the wall. I felt 
 ashamed to look at the depraved characters, and wished 
 I was out. Two of the women came and sat beside us. 
 Stubbs ordered two quarts of beer. When it came, a brazen 
 little strumpet, who would persist in talking to me, said 
 she wouldn't drink beer. She was near drunk at the time. 
 So Stubbs told her she could have what she liked. She 
 ordered a cocktail. Just then a big, coarse, raw-boned 
 woman came toward us. 'This is Kate Kanter, who keeps 
 the house,' he whispered to me. Stubbs asked her what 
 she'd take. She said she didn't feel well; if she took any- 
 thing she'd take a glass of port wine. 'Bring us a bottle 
 of port,' said Stubbs to the waiter. There were just four 
 chairs at the table, and the Kanter woman was still stand- 
 ing. She noticed the impudent little trash that would keep 
 chinning to me. 'Get up,' she says, 'you're piped!' So she 
 chased her and sat down on the seat. When the waiter 
 came back with the port he brought four glasses and filled 
 them. I said I preferred the beer, so the Kanter woman 
 picked up the extra glass and said, 'Here, Clem, take a 
 glass of wine.' I just turned my head to see whom she was 
 addressing, and there stood Martha within three feet of me. 
 I was paralyzed for a second. I jumped up, nearly upset- 
 ting the table. I couldn't believe my eyes for a moment; 
 I felt my hair rising on my head. I\Iartha recognized me 
 the moment I stood up. She was in the act of raising the 
 glass to her mouth. It fell from her hand, and was shat- 
 tered to pieces on the floor. She reeled back and fell into 
 a seat that goes around the room. She held her head down. 
 The Kanter woman got mad, 'Never mind, Kate,' said 
 Stubbs, 'it's all right. I'll pay for everything.' Then she 
 
186 THE OATH 
 
 muttered something about an old flame, and breaking the 
 glasses. As she turned to leave us, her attention was at- 
 tracted to a number of young men who were sitting at a 
 table talking. 'Are you fellows going to waste your time 
 here all night? Why don't you take some of the girls up- 
 stairs?' A sudden thought struck me. 'I'll take this one,' 
 I said, going over to where Martha was still holding her 
 head down, and took her by the arm. She stood up, turn- 
 ing her head from me. Stubbs tried to stop me. 'Come on!* 
 he said. 
 
 * * ' No ! I 'm going with this girl. ' 
 
 " 'Will I wait for you?' 
 
 " 'No, I'll find my own way.' " 
 
 "My God!" exclaimed Hill. "Who would have ever 
 thought my sister would have turned out like that?" He 
 looked toward the ceiling and then bowed his head in agony, 
 the tears streaming from his eyes. 
 
 "Bob," said Matthew, rising, "don't think I had any 
 improper desire for your sister, no more than I would have 
 for my own." 
 
 " I believe you. Matt," said Hill, between his tears. 
 
 "But I knew it was the only opportunity I would have 
 to talk to her." Howard paused to give Hill some time to 
 compose himself. 
 
 "Go on!" 
 
 "Well, when we went up into the room, a miserable 
 looking place, the bed all topsy-turvy, a couple of chairs 
 and a little table with a candle on it, a couple of wash basins 
 with dirty water standing in them. I felt sick at heart. 
 We both sat down. She commenced to cry, and so did I — 
 I couldn't help it. After a time, I asked her what terrible 
 misfortune brought her to such a place. At first she'd tell 
 me nothing; begged of me not to ask her. I appealed to 
 
THE OATH 187 
 
 her, she trembled like an aspen. For half an hour I im- 
 plored her to tell me. 'You must leave this place,' I said 
 to her. She shook her head. I couldn't get a thing out of 
 her. She begged me to go and leave her; to forget I had 
 ever seen her. Well, after we had been in the room for, 
 maybe, forty minutes, a young woman knocked at the door 
 and said the missus wanted to know how long we were 
 going to occupy the room. 
 
 "Martha asked me to give her a dollar for the woman 
 and go. I said I wouldn't; I was going to stay till she told 
 me her story. She became frightfully nervous, but I was 
 determined. The girl still stood outside the door to await 
 an answer. Martha again appealed to me. 'You don't 
 want me, Matthew?' she said, looking up entreatingly into 
 my face, 'No,' I said, 'but I'll stay till you tell me your 
 trouble.' 'Then the woman will want five dollars if we 
 occupy this room all night.' I went outside and gave the 
 girl, who was waiting, a five-dollar bill. 
 
 "The girl made a coarse jest of me being the right 
 kind of a sport and left us. AYe sat down again. I saw 
 Martha was faint. I asked her when she had eaten last. 
 Could I send out for anything? She said I could. So she 
 called a man, and I told him to go out and bring in the 
 nicest supper he could get for two ; to bring up a bottle of 
 port wine. I gave him a dollar for himself. It must have 
 been two in the morning, but, wherever he got it, he brought 
 in a first-class meal — chicken and salad, and coffee and 
 rolls, and the bottle of wine, I felt faint myself, I wanted 
 something real bad, Martha set the table. As we were 
 eating I could see she was thinking. Something of the old 
 look began to come into her face. I kept her in talk, re- 
 minding her of the day she left. She smiled as she told 
 me of the girl chaffing me as she was about to step on the 
 
188 THE OATH 
 
 train as to why I didn't kiss her. I pleaded guilty, Bob. 
 Something of the old feeling came over me and, when we 
 had dined and wined, I said, 'I'll kiss you now, Martha, 
 though you can never be my Martha.' This made her sad, 
 but I kissed her. Then she cried again. Her heart seemed 
 to open to me, and she began to tell her story, from the 
 moment she arrived in Chicago until I recognized her in 
 the Peoria street house. My blood ran cold as she went on." 
 
 Hill sobbed bitterly during the recital. At its conclu- 
 sion, he rose from his seat, and, clasping his hands, looked 
 toward the ceiling, exclaiming: 
 
 " Oh ! is there no protecting angel to guard the foot- 
 steps of our poor innocent girls, or an avenging God to smite 
 the demons who are guilty of such atrocities! By the 
 eternal! I live now but for one purpose, and that is to 
 bathe my hands in the blood of those who trapped my sister, 
 and I appeal to the ever-living God to strengthen my hand. 
 Did she tell you where this Rosenthal could be found?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Then I will find him, if it costs me my life and all I 
 have of the world's goods." 
 
 "Now keep calm. Bob, it's no use of your getting your- 
 self so excited." 
 
 "I can't help it. What I want is, REVENGE!" He 
 fell back in his chair in a swoon. 
 
 Howard ran, got some water, and bathed his temples. 
 In time he recovered. 
 
 "What are we to do, Matt?" he said, as soon as he had 
 composed himself. "I can't leave her there." 
 
 "Well, wait. I am not done yet. About four in the 
 morning I wanted to go. She wouldn't let me. She said I 
 would likely be robbed or murdered before I went two 
 blocks; that more than likely fellows were on the lookout 
 
What ] Want Is Rkvkx. 
 
THE OATH 189 
 
 for me. I felt a little scary and somewhat embarrassed. 
 I said, 'I'll go. Just show me to the door.' " 
 
 " *No, you won't, Matthew. I don't want your blood 
 on my head. You must sleep here,' pointing to the bed. 
 'Well, where will you sleep?' without a thought. 'Oh never 
 mind me. I'm used to staying up. I can sleep all day. 
 Wait and I'll get you some clean sheets.' She went and 
 got them and made the bed for me. 'Now I will go out, 
 while you undress yourself, ' just as modest as any chamber 
 maid could be. I took some of my things off and got into 
 bed. In a few minutes she peeped in, and seeing me in 
 bed came in and tidied up the room a bit, leaving me a 
 clean towel and some water to wash myself when I got up. 
 I remained quiet, watching her. She spread my clothes 
 neatly on the back of one of the chairs and, tip-toeing over 
 to the bed, she stooped over and gently placed her lips to 
 mine. I heard her say, 'God bless you, Matt.' I let on 
 I was asleep, but never felt more miserable in my life. She 
 left the room noiselessly. I didn't wake up until near 9 
 in the morning. I raised myself on my elbow, and looking 
 out saw her stretched full length on the floor, right up 
 against the door, so that no one could open it without push- 
 ing her away. I got up, dressed, and washed myself. When 
 my toilet was complete I went over and shook her. 'Mar- 
 tha, Martha, wake up ! ' She stared vacantly for a moment 
 and then arose." 
 
 " 'You're ready to go?' she said. 
 
 " 'Yes, and you're going to go with me.' 
 
 "She shook her head. 'No, Matthew, there is no place 
 for me but this, until the woman of this house, tiring of me, 
 casts me out to find another place still more degraded.' I 
 begged and appealed to her to come away with me. I would 
 send her away to any place she chose to rest and reflect, 
 
190 THE OATH 
 
 and I would devise some plan that she could come back to 
 her old home after a time, but to no avail." 
 
 " 'If I thought you would betray me,' she said, finally, 
 * and my father and mother would find out the life I 've been 
 leading, I would commit suicide. ' Seeing that my entreaties 
 were of no avail, I prepared to leave. She placed her arms 
 around my neck and kissed me. 'Matthew, I have spent a 
 happy night in spite of my tears. Good-bye, and forget you 
 ever saw me. My friends think I'm dead; it will be cruel 
 if you undeceive them.' As I was going along the passage 
 on the lower floor I saw four of the worst looking ruffians 
 it is possible to imagine watching me, and I remembered her 
 warning of the night before. As she shook hands with me 
 outside the door I offered her money. She refused to accept 
 it. So I forced a twenty-dollar bill down her breast, and 
 walked rapidly away." 
 
 "Revenge! Revenge!" exclaimed Hill, livid with rage. 
 *'But first I must take her from that den of infamy." 
 
 "But what if she won't go?" inquired Howard. 
 
 "Then I'll kill her!" his teeth firmly clenched. 
 
 "Well, Robert, I hope you'll do nothing rash. Remem- 
 ber they're a desperate crowd and, if any attempt is made 
 to take her away by force, blood will be shed. Hadn't we 
 better see the police?" 
 
 "No, I'll be my own police. The police that tolerate 
 such places are guilty, yes more so, than the women that 
 run them. If the police were any good they would have 
 found her in the woman Blomgarten's who bought her from 
 the slaver Ike Rosenthal. No, Matthew, I'll not trust the 
 police, and, if I go to take her, woe be to the man or woman 
 who tries to stop me ! " 
 
 "Well, when are you going to make the attempt?" 
 
 * ' Tomorrow. ' ' 
 
THE OATH 191 
 
 "Then I'll go with you. But, remember, we'll have to 
 use some diplomacy." 
 
 ''I don't want you to run any risk, Matthew. You can, 
 however, show me the place." 
 
 "Bob, I don't like to hear you talk that way. Don't 
 think I'm a coward." 
 
 "I know you're not, Matt. Forgive me." 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you what we'll do. There's no use in 
 going there until the evening. We '11 leave here by the 4 :30 
 tomorrow afternoon. You can send word around to the 
 mill in the morning that you're sick and I'll go over about 
 noon. You know I've some stock in the firm and tell them 
 I'm going to take you to see a doctor. That will excuse us 
 both. What we'll do with her when we get her we can 
 decide after. So go right home now like a good fellow, 
 and go straight to bed." 
 
192 BAFFLED 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 BAFFLED. 
 
 Matt Howard and Robert Hill reached Chicago a little 
 after seven in the evening of the day they determined to 
 rescue Martha. Howard had hard work to curb Bob's im- 
 patience. 
 
 "Robert," he said, "we have plenty of time. In the 
 first place we will have to make some arrangements as to 
 where we will bring her. The clothing I have brought in 
 the case will fit her well enough, but she must have some 
 place to put them on, and we will have to stay in Chicago 
 tonight anyway." 
 
 Hill had to admit the force of Howard's argument. 
 Howard was a business man and wanted to go about things 
 methodically. Robert Hill wanted fight. He had a "44" 
 in his pocket and determined to use it on the first man or 
 woman who would bar his passage. Howard had a "38"; 
 he was equally determined, but had much more discretion. 
 
 "Do you remember the name of that hotel where they 
 found her bundle?" 
 
 "No, but I can find it. It's on Clark street." 
 
 "Well, we'll go there first, and secure rooms. "We 
 can leave the clothes we have for her there, except the cloak ; 
 that we'll take with us in the cab we engage." After regis- 
 tering at the hotel, Howard insisted they should have some- 
 thing to eat before they started out. Hill was chafing at 
 the delay. 
 
BAPFLED 193 
 
 "You'll have to keep cool, Bob. Remember this is no 
 child's pla3^ We may have some trouble." 
 
 "I'm ready for it," replied his friend. 
 
 "So am I; but, if we can avoid it, so much the better." 
 
 It was 8:30 when they left the hotel. Howard went 
 toward a cab stand which was near by, followed by Robert. 
 They walked the line till Howard accosted a man who had a 
 pair of good-looking horses. The man, seeing them looking 
 at his rig, said, "Carriage, sir?" 
 
 "I was just looking at that pair of horses of yours. 
 They seem pretty good stock." 
 
 "As good as is in the city in this business, sir." 
 
 "You own them yourself?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Have you been long in the business?'* 
 
 "Over twenty years." 
 
 "I suppose you have a family!" 
 
 The man looked at him for a second or so before he 
 gave him an answer. 
 
 "Yes, but my family's grown up." 
 
 "The reason I ask you that question is, you being a 
 man of family you are likely to have some sympathy with 
 the project we have in view. It is this : A girl in whom we 
 are interested has gone astray; she's in a low-down dive 
 on the west side and we are going to take her out; we're 
 relatives of hers. I will pay you well. It may take one hour 
 or it may take four." 
 
 "I don't care how long it takes if it's an honest deal. 
 Where is it?" inquired the cabman. 
 
 "Peoria street, near Lake." 
 
 "A pretty tough locality. Probably you may have a 
 scrap if she don't want to leave willingly, or maybe they'll 
 try to prevent her from going with you. I'll go anyhow. 
 
194 BAFFLED 
 
 Of course, if they do any damage to my cab I'll expect you 
 to make it good." 
 
 "I'll do that," replied Howard. "I am a responsible 
 man. ' ' 
 
 "Well, you look all right," replied the cabman, looking 
 them over critically. 
 
 "You get her into my cab, and let me get the horses 
 started. I'll bring her to wherever you want me." With 
 that they started out. 
 
 As they reached the corner of Lake street, the cabman 
 pulled up his horses. Matt Howard put his head out of the 
 window. "Go round the corner." 
 
 "No, you get out here and go and get the girl. When 
 you're gone I'll drive around and stop about fifty feet from 
 the house with my horses' heads in the way I'm going to go. 
 As soon as I see you coming down the steps with her I'll 
 drive up. Of course, if she comes willingly and they let her 
 go we'll have no trouble, but if there's any fuss get her in 
 the cab, and, one or both of you jump in beside her and I'm 
 off. I know this crowd around here better than you men." 
 The judgment of the cabman impressed Martha's friend 
 and brother favorably. They told the cabman the number 
 of the house they were going to. 
 
 "I know the place; it's one of the toughest." 
 
 "Now, Robert," said Matthew, as they turned into the 
 street, "you go over on the other side and I'll go in; you 
 stay till you see me at the front window. As soon as you 
 do come right over. If she sees you, the poor thing might 
 take flight." 
 
 This remark brought tears to her brother's eyes. 
 
 Matthew Howard went straight up the steps and into 
 the front room of Kate Kanter's dive. He looked around, 
 but Martha was not in sight. 
 
BAFFLED 195 
 
 **Good evening!" said a young damsel in short skirts. 
 "Going to buy a drink?" 
 
 "Sure, sit down. What will you take?" 
 
 "Oh, a bottle of beer." 
 
 "Bring us two quarts," addressing the waiter. "Per- 
 haps some of your sisters would take a little?" smiling at 
 the girl. When the beer was brought Matthew Howard had 
 a number of the girls around him. He laughed and joked 
 with them, at the same time glancing around in hopes of 
 seeing the object of his search. The two bottles of beer 
 didn't last but a few minutes. Matt ordered two more. 
 "I'm out for a good time," he said, "let us enjoy ourselves," 
 assuming a jollity entirely different to the bent of his mind. 
 
 The first girl to whom he spoke on entering thought to 
 contribute to his enjoyment by sitting on his knee. He 
 laughed as if it was just what he desired. Three sinister' 
 looking fellows sat at a table with three women, who left 
 them to join those already around HoAvard, their men, be- 
 ing regular hangers-on who lived on the wages of sin, offer- 
 ing no objection. And, as it was too early for the assembling 
 of the regular patrons, they flocked around Howard as the 
 only prospective customer in the place. Matthew told the 
 waiter to take our friends, alluding to the three men who 
 sat alone, a couple of bottles. They all three smiled and 
 bowed their acknowledgment to him, as the waiter laid the 
 bottles on the table with the remark : 
 
 "The gentleman wants you to take a drink with him." 
 
 Matthew waved his hand and bowed to them as if they 
 were old college chums. 
 
 "Weren't you here the night before last?" said one of 
 the girls who had just joined the group, looking at him, 
 
 "Yes," he replied. "Where's my girl?" 
 
196 BAFFLED 
 
 "Oh, you were with Clem; she's skipped." Howard 
 felt as if a knife had pierced him. 
 
 "Don't you know where she's gone?" he blurted out. 
 
 "No, she never said a word to anyone of us. I don't 
 believe the missus knows where she is." 
 
 "I expect a friend outside," said Matt, now totally 
 down-hearted, "you'll excuse me." He went to the front 
 window and pulled the blind aside. He could see Robert 
 Hill place his hand to his left breast where he had his gun 
 ready for action, rush across the street, and up the steps. 
 As he entered the parlor he scared some of the women by 
 his appearance. Matt met him at the door. 
 
 "She's gone!" he exclaimed. Hill staggered under the 
 shock. 
 
 "Keep cool, Bob. We'll have to make inquiries of the 
 missus." Hill fell into a seat. 
 
 "What's the matter with your friend?" inquired one 
 of the women. 
 
 "He don't feel well this evening." 
 
 "Give him a drink," suggested one of the girls. "You 
 go, Lulu, and warm him up." The blood had left Robert 
 Hill 's face. The girl gave him the glass, and he drank. He 
 felt faint. 
 
 "I should like to have met Clem," remarked Howard. 
 "She was a pretty nice girl." 
 
 "Oh, there's as good as ever she was here," said one 
 of the girls, looking at the others for their approval. 
 
 "I believe so," said Howard, sharply, "but you know 
 when a fellow's stuck on a girl he's apt to think there's no 
 one like her." 
 
 "That's so," said an elderly dame. "Just as when a 
 woman is stuck on a fellow. She thinks he's perfect. 
 
BAFFLED 197 
 
 There's Lulu's bloke over there, and I'm sure he's no beauty, 
 and she thinks there's nobody like him." 
 
 "He's all right!" said Lulu, looking over approvingly 
 at a fellow that any intelligent jury would convict on sight. 
 
 "Well, I want to see the mistress of the house. You 
 girls can have some more beer. Waiter bring in a couple of 
 quarts. Where's the mistress?" addressing the man who 
 was waiting. 
 
 "She's in the kitchen, sir." 
 
 "Oh stay where you are," chimed in one of the women. 
 "There's no use of you seeing her. She never scabs it on 
 the girls, besides she has a bloke of her own." The girls 
 laughed at this sally. 
 
 Matthew beckoned Bob to follow him. "I'll be back in 
 a minute or two," he said to the party on leaving. 
 
 Kate Kanter nodded to the two young men when she 
 saw them entering the place where she was. 
 
 "You were here the other night with Mr. Stubbs, 
 weren't you?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am, and I wanted to meet that girl Clem that 
 I was with." 
 
 "Oh yes, I remember. She left immediately after you 
 without saying a word. I thought probably you made a 
 permanent appointment with her." 
 
 "No, she never said a word to me about leaving you." 
 
 "That's strange. I was sorry to lose her ; she was about 
 the best girl I had. You see she wasn't so much given to 
 booze as the most of them." 
 
 "Then you've no idea where she is?" 
 
 "Not the slightest. She just put her shawl on, the girls 
 told me after you had left, and walked right out." 
 
 "Do you think she went to any other house in the 
 neighborhood?" 
 
198 BAFFLED 
 
 "No, I'm sure she didn't. I always treated her white, 
 and I'm sure Clem wouldn't leave me for any place around 
 here. ' ' 
 
 Robert Hill had to lean on a chair for support while 
 listening to this dialogue — he was deathly pale. 
 
 "She was a real good girl," continued the Kanter 
 woman, "and very popular." 
 
 Hill staggered back into the passage. 
 
 "Your friend don't seem well," remarked the woman. 
 
 "No, ma'am, I think I'll have to take him home." 
 
 Matthew Howard took his friend's arm as far as the 
 front room, where he went in and paid for the last two 
 bottles of beer he had ordered, and, telling the women he 
 would see them later, they both left the place. 
 
 The cabman, seeing them come down the steps, drove 
 up and seemed disappointed at their not having the object 
 of their search with them. 
 
 "Wouldn't she come?" he inquired, 
 
 "She is not there," replied Howard. 
 
 "Perhaps you had better try some of the other places. 
 There's lots of them around here." 
 
 Robert Hill threw himself on the back seat of the car- 
 riage. He was deathly sick. "I can't go any farther to- 
 night. Take me to the hotel ; I must lie down." 
 
 Matthew paid the cabman liberally, and told him to 
 call for them at 8 p. m. sharp the following evening. 
 
PLANNING 199 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 PLANNING. 
 
 The cabman, as prearranged, was in waiting at the 
 hotel at the time appointed, to renew the search for the 
 lost girl. Both Hill and Howard were at a loss as to how 
 to commence, so decided to confer with the cabman, who 
 knew the locality. On the cabman arriving at the rooms 
 Avhich Howard had secured, thinking they would have 
 Martha for an occupant, after the usual salutation, Howard 
 said: "You see, my good man, we have little knowledge 
 of those places we have to visit in search of the party we 
 seek, so will have to depend in a great measure upon your 
 advice. How do you think we should go about it?" 
 
 "Well, in my opinion, you should apply for a police 
 escort, who would take you through whatever places you 
 wanted to go to," 
 
 "Is it possible that the police are cognizant of such 
 places, and still allow them to exist?" 
 
 "Young man, you have a good deal to learn how things 
 are run in this city. Those houses — the worst of them — are 
 under police regulation, which means, go as you please, so 
 long as you get the dough and divide up." 
 
 "If that's so, then I object to any police escort, as 
 they would be just as likely to thwart our object as to aid 
 us. Besides, I am prejudiced against the police; not but 
 there may be many honest, sincere men in the service, but 
 those who profit by the infamy of those institutions also 
 control the force," 
 
200 PLANNING 
 
 "That's my opinion too!" exclaimed Howard, nodding 
 to the cabman. 
 
 "No doubt," replied the cabman, "but the only use 
 the policeman would be to us would be to show you around. 
 You need not tell him your mission; he would probably 
 think your only purpose would be to visit the ranches and 
 inspect the stock, for which he would likely receive a com- 
 mission from the housekeepers, if you should spend any 
 amount of money in their places." 
 
 "I would very much like to dispense with the service 
 of the policemen," said Hill, "as I am very much afraid 
 of them." 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you what you might do. You know 
 I'll have to take care of my horses, and when you get the 
 girl I'll play my part, but I'm not the proper party to jolly 
 the people in the resorts, and probably this may be an all 
 night job." 
 
 "What is it you suggest then?" 
 
 That you secure the service of one of the fellows that 
 hang around such places, if it's only to show you the vealy 
 side of life. A few dollars and drinks will do, but, if you 
 tell him your mission, you will have to pay him his price 
 with a contingent fee if you get her." 
 
 "I like that plan," said Howard, "but where can we 
 get the man?" 
 
 "That's easy. You know the place we were at last 
 night?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, Kate Kanter is a fairly good type of her class, 
 and, as you told me, thought a good deal of the girl you're 
 looking for. I think she'd be willing to help you; probably 
 she would not like the girl to be in a worse place than her 
 own." 
 
PLANNING 201 
 
 "Is that possible!" exclaimed Hill. 
 
 "Well, 3'oung man, after you've visited some of the 
 places I expect you'll have to go through tonight you 11 
 think Kate Kanter's dive respectable." 
 
 Howard felt a sickening sensation at his heart to think 
 the girl he had loved so dearly could become so depraved. 
 
 Hill's brow darkened, his teeth firmly set. There was 
 desperation in his stolidness. "Let us start out!" he said, 
 "This delay is killing me." 
 
 "Let us go, then," said Howard. 
 
 "Wait a moment," urged the cabman, "I'm not con- 
 sidering myself. I am satisfied you gentlemen will treat 
 me right, but I think we should have a plan of campaign 
 before going to the Kanter house. What I suggest, in the 
 first instance, is that when you visit the place you should 
 act as if you were a couple of sports out for a good time. 
 Maybe you can learn something in advance. Perhaps they 
 know where the girl is, and if you pump them it may make 
 our job easy. If not, you can ask Kate to recommend to 
 you a fellow that knows the route and is willing to show 
 you the sights for a consideration. Of course, you'll have 
 to buy a little beer for the girls at Kanter's place, and prob- 
 ably a bottle of M^ine for Kate herself, so as to put her in 
 good humor." 
 
 "Oh! that makes no difference," replied Howard, "so 
 long as she'll recommend the right fellow." 
 
 On the way to Kanter's, Howard advised Hill to let him 
 do the talking. "You know, Bob, you're too serious, and 
 can't dissemble. You wear a frown when a laugh is needed. 
 You know I am just as serious as you are on this mission, 
 but I can put on a pleasant face and act different to what 
 I feel." 
 
202 PLANNING 
 
 "Friend Matt, it is very hard for me to look pleasant 
 under those circumstances. You know what Martha was 
 to me, she was more than sister. She was my pal, my sweet- 
 heart. I had built such great hopes in her future, and would 
 never have surrendered her willingly to any one but your- 
 self, as we all felt confident some day you would have her 
 for your wife, but that's all past now." A tear stole down 
 Hill's cheek which he brushed away with his handkerchief, 
 
 "Console yourself. Bob. What is is, and we cannot 
 change it. Our sole object now is to rescue her, and I am 
 sure she will not turn a deaf ear to your appeal. You are 
 virtually the head of her family, and it is her terror of them 
 which she dreads more than all. As for me, whatever I was 
 to her once, I am now but a friend, and so she rates me. 
 Refusing me is one thing, refusing you is another." 
 
 "Just as you say. Matt. I will be guided by your judg- 
 ment, and act as best I can." 
 
 Arriving at the Kanter house, Howard no sooner en- 
 tered the parlor than a number of the girls came forward 
 to greet him. 
 
 "Good evening, sport," was his first greeting by one 
 of the girls. Her sisters in misfortune smiled benignly on 
 him. 
 
 "Hello, girls! How are you all?" was Howard's re- 
 mark. 
 
 "Ah, I see you have a friend with you," remarked the 
 first one who addressed him. "Bring him in, we'll make 
 things pleasant for both of you; won't we, girls?" 
 
 "Sure, we will," was the response. 
 
 Bob Hill, in spite of his determination to look pleasant, 
 frowned upon the damsels. 
 
 "He's a little shy," remarked Howard. "You girls 
 will have to excuse him." 
 
PLANNING 203 
 
 "That will wear off," said one, "when he's here a little 
 while." 
 
 "Let's sit down," said Howard. "I want to buy a 
 drink." 
 
 "Well, choose your partners," remarked one, and some 
 seven women lined up in a row. 
 
 "We'll do that a little later," said Howard, "and in 
 the meantime I am going to treat you all." 
 
 "That's the way to talk," remarked one of the women, 
 while the others smiled on Howard, 
 
 The entire group sat down, two of the girls pulling up 
 a table, so as to connect with another and so make room 
 for all. 
 
 The waiter stood in expectancy. 
 
 "Bring us a half dozen bottles of beer." 
 
 The girls looked at one another, and then ogled Howard, 
 as if in admiration. They also glanced at Hill, but, his 
 chilly looks frosting them, they paid little attention to him, 
 to his great relief. 
 
 When the beer was brought, one of the girls who seemed 
 most gabby looked at Howard and, giving him one of her 
 most seductive smiles, said, "Would you object to treating 
 our friends?" glancing over at a table where four of the 
 male hangers-on were seated. 
 
 *'Not on your life. They're as welcome as the flowers 
 in May." 
 
 The girl grabbed two of the bottles and took them over 
 to where her male friends were seated. She had a whis- 
 pered conversation with them. They looked over in the 
 direction where Howard and Hill were seated and nodded. 
 One of them waved his hand toward Hill, as a friendly greet- 
 ing, Howard held his up, in reply. 
 
 As there were but few visitors at Kate Kanter's estab- 
 
204 PLANNING 
 
 lishment up to that time of the evening, and the women had 
 but little liquid refreshment, the remaining four bottles of 
 beer were consumed in short order. 
 
 ''Bring us six more," ordered Howard to the waiter, 
 who stood ever ready to supply the wants of visitors who 
 had the price, or to bounce those whose presence was 
 objectionable. 
 
 When the beer was bought and paid for. Hill slipped a 
 half dollar into his hand. He smiled and expressed his 
 thanks. 
 
 "Take a couple of bottles over to our friends in the 
 rear, ' ' remarked Howard, in an off-hand way. The girl who 
 had served on the former occasion took the two bottles 
 over, and, on returning, said, "The gentlemen at the rear 
 table wish to thank you." Howard looked over toward 
 them in a very friendly manner, which was reciprocated by 
 the men in the rear. 
 
 One of the girls who sat next to Hill began to get 
 familiar with him. "Wake up!" she said, placing her hand 
 on his knee. "What's the matter with you? Don't you 
 know you're in good company?" 
 
 This was something Hill did not agree with, but he 
 returned a sickly smile in acknowledgment 
 
 Howard, seeing Hill's embarrassment, determined to 
 bring the seance to a close as soon as possible. 
 
 "Where's Kate?" he remarked, in a manner as if they 
 were old friends. 
 
 "She's up dressing," replied one of the girls. 
 
 "I would like to see her." 
 
 "She'll be down soon," replied the girl. 
 
 In a brief time Kate Kanter put in an appearance, and 
 in looking into the parlor recognized Howard as a man who 
 had been a visitor to her institution on former occasions. 
 
PLANNING 205 
 
 She smiled at him and he beckoned her to approach. When 
 she reached the group she extended her hand to Howard, 
 who gave her a friendly shake. 
 
 "Will you join us?" 
 
 ' ' No, not now ; but I will take a drink with you. ' ' 
 
 Howard reached her a glass of the beer. 
 
 "I may want to see you a little later," he remarked. 
 
 "Oh yes, about that girl of yours, I suppose. Well, I 
 never heard of her since." 
 
 This information struck deep into the heart of Hill, 
 whose gloomy disposition nothing but an interview face to 
 face with his sister could dispel. 
 
 Howard was disappointed. He had hoped to have 
 learned something about Martha at the House of Kanter. 
 
 "I want to. have a talk with you anyway. Miss Kanter, 
 when you have time." 
 
 "Then you'll find me in the kitchen," said the woman 
 of the house, remarking before she left she hoped he and 
 his friend would have a pleasant time. 
 
 The information conveyed inadvertently to Howard as 
 to Kate Kanter having no knowledge of Martha Hill's 
 whereabouts depressed him so that he said, turning to the 
 waiter, "Bring some more beer. I want to have a talk 
 with Miss Kanter, and will pay you when I come back. 
 You'll excuse us, girls, for a time?" and, beckoning to Bob, 
 they left the women abruptly. 
 
 Miss Kanter greeted them cordially, with the remark, 
 "Well, boys, what can I do for you?" 
 
 "To be candid with you. Miss Kanter, on a former 
 occasion you expressed a friendly feeling for Miss Clemen- 
 tina Montague. We are here to try and find her. We are 
 both very much interested in her, how much we don't care 
 
206 PLANNING 
 
 to let you know, but we want to find her, and we want you 
 to inform us as to the best method of locating her." 
 
 "I am sure I don't know how to advise you. I was 
 sorry when she left. She was a good girl, and I don't be- 
 lieve she could have a better place than this. I always 
 treated her white." 
 
 Hill turned away his head to hide the look of contempt 
 he had for Kate Kanter's estimate of a good girl, and her 
 absolute disregard for morality. 
 
 "Do you think she sought refuge in some other house?" 
 
 "That I don't know. More than likely she did. You 
 see, women who choose this life seldom or never change 
 their way, unless they can find some sucker to marry them, 
 and when he does, he should be either not particular in 
 playing the cuckold, or keep a close watch on them. Fel- 
 lows like those you see in the front marry girls for an ob- 
 ject, and expect to be kept by them from their earnings in 
 houses like this, but Clem was a different kind of girl. She 
 never warmed up to any of those fellows, and always kept 
 them at a distance. She didn't care much for the booze 
 either, and was very popular." 
 
 This praise struck deep into the heart of her brother, 
 who surmised what such popularity meant. 
 
 "But, I assure you, gentlemen," said Kate, continuing, 
 "if I knew where she was I would tell you, as I had a warm 
 feeling for Clem, and was sorry when she left me." 
 
 "Do you think we would be likely to find her if we 
 made a search?" 
 
 "You might." 
 
 "Well, Miss Kanter, we are not very well acquainted 
 around those parts. Do you think you could recommend 
 somebody to show us around?" 
 
 "I probably could. Wait till I see who's in the front.** 
 
PLANNING 207 
 
 Kate Kanter went toward the parlor, and in a few 
 moments returned with a young man. He was about twen- 
 ty-five years of age, of robust build. His sallow counte- 
 nance was adorned with a black mustache, which was also 
 the color of his hair. He was low-browed, and of a gener- 
 ally sinister appearance. 
 
 Howard and Hill both gazed at him with some mis- 
 givings. 
 
 "Tony, shake hands with those two gentlemen. They 
 want you to show them around a little." 
 
 Tony shook hands with both Hill and Howard. 
 
 "Now, Tony," said the woman, addressing him, "I 
 want you to treat those men right, and see that they don't 
 get into trouble. I have no doubt they will do the right 
 thing by you." 
 
 "I'll take care of them," remarked Tony, in a confident 
 air. 
 
 "They have a special mission," remarked Kate, "and 
 I want you to know in advance I am in favor of it, so help 
 them all you can." 
 
 "I'll do the best I know how." 
 
 "They will explain it to you," said Kate, "when you 
 start out." 
 
 Tony nodded. 
 
 "I am very thankful to you," said Howard, pleased at 
 the Kanter woman's business methods, "and I would like 
 to buy a bottle of wine before we go." 
 
 "Never mind. Some other time. But you can treat 
 the girls." 
 
 "That we will," replied Howard, "but I want you to 
 accept a little present," placing his hand in his vest pocket 
 and producing a five-dollar bill, which he slipped into her 
 hand. She thanked him. The three men then repaired to 
 
208 PLANNING 
 
 the parlor, where Howard paid for the drinks he had or- 
 dered, and told the waiter to bring in a fresh supply. They 
 then prepared to take their departure, the girls protesting 
 against their going, and one of them telling them: 
 
 ''You don't know what you're missing if you leave 
 here." 
 
 Another said, "Stay boys. If you go farther you'll 
 fare worse." 
 
 Two or three of them tried to block the way. "Cut it 
 out!" growled Tony, "we're going out on a little business." 
 
 The girls fell back as if they had heard a peremptory 
 command from a superior, and offered no further obstacle 
 to the men's departure. 
 
THE SEARCH 209 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 THE SEARCH. 
 
 On Howard, Hill, and their eseore reaching where the 
 carriage stood, Howard apologized to the cabman for keep- 
 ing him waiting. 
 
 "Never mind me," said the driver, "I am used to that 
 kind of thing; besides," smiling, "I'm engaged by the 
 hour. ' ' 
 
 "That's so," remarked Howard, "but probably a little 
 later we may have a little refreshments, and, of course, 
 you're counted in." 
 
 Tony, who had been listening to the dialogue, beck- 
 oned Howard to come a little away, and, in a tone of voice 
 not intended for the cabman, said, "You don't need him. 
 All the houses here are within a few blocks, and if you want 
 to visit many of them it will take some time, so there is no 
 use wasting money. If I was you I would pay him off and 
 let him go." 
 
 "Thanks for your consideration, Tony, but we may 
 need him, as we have a special mission, and I may as well 
 make you acquainted with it at once. You knew Clem 
 Montague, that lived at Kanter's?" 
 
 "Sure. I knew her well, and she was all right. We 
 have been wondering what became of her." 
 
 "That's our trouble too, and we are very close friends 
 of hers. We want you to help us to find her, and if you do 
 we'll reward you well." 
 
210 THE SEARCH 
 
 ''What do you want to find her for? Do you want to 
 'pinch' her? If you do, count me out." 
 
 "No, no. We are her friends and want to help and not 
 harm her." 
 
 "If I was sure of that, I would not mind lending you 
 a hand, but I'd like to know what you want with her. Do 
 you want to ship her to another place? Have you a cus- 
 tomer for her? If you have, I'd want to stand in." 
 
 Howard was embarrassed for a reply, but was pleased 
 that his friend Hill had no share in the conversation, as 
 the cold-blooded proposition of their scout would assuredly 
 have roused his ire. 
 
 "Our intention, if we find her, is to bring her home to 
 her people, to provide for her, reclaim her, and try to make 
 her respectable." 
 
 "I'm afraid you're wasting your time, but as Kate 
 wants me to help you I '11 do it. Of course, my time 's worth 
 something." 
 
 "I will treat you generously. I'll tell you what I'll do, 
 I'll give you ten dollars now to begin with, and, if we suc- 
 ceed in finding her through your aid I will add forty more. 
 That will make fifty — not a bad night's work." 
 
 "Gee! you fellows must want her real bad. I wouldn't 
 give fifty for a dozen like her, and in my opinion when you 
 get her you won't be able to hold her." 
 
 "That needn't concern you. Here's your ten to begin 
 with." 
 
 "All right, boss, come along. If she's in this district 
 we'll get her, but you'd better keep a little in the back- 
 ground, because, if she sees you, she may fly the coop, as 
 she did before." 
 
 This practical but disheartening suggestion gave How- 
 ard a chill. He remembered his experience with her. He, 
 
THE SEARCH 211 
 
 however, had hopes that the sight of her brother, and his 
 determination that she should go with him, would more than 
 offset any scruples she might have and come willingly. If 
 not, Howard dreaded the consequences, because Robert Hill 's 
 determined manner warranted him in the belief that should 
 she refuse to come peacefully her brother would resort to 
 violence. 
 
 ''Well, let us be going," remarked Howard, "it's 
 already getting late." 
 
 "Plenty of time," replied their guide. "In the next 
 street there's over a dozen places. So you can have your 
 hackman drive to the next corner, and wait for us. We'll 
 walk over." 
 
 As they turned the corner of the street they had set 
 out for, the first house they approached was of similar con- 
 struction to the one Kate Kanter controlled. There was a 
 flight of steps up to the floor above the basement. The face 
 of a girl seemed glued to the window-pane, where the cur- 
 tain was drawn aside. As she saw the three men approach, 
 she tapped vigorously on the glass. Seeing the men's inten- 
 tion to visit the house, she immediately left her place of 
 look-out and met the men at the parlor door with what she 
 intended for, a bewitching smile. 
 
 "Hello Tony!" she said, on seeing the guide. 
 
 "How do, Megg?" was his reply. "How's business?" 
 
 "Rotten." 
 
 "Well, come and take a drink. Here's a couple of 
 gentlemen visitors." 
 
 Tony and the girl led the way to a table, where they 
 sat down. The girl looked at Tony as if waiting for a cue. 
 Tony whispered to the girl, "I see you've got Daisy here, 
 give her the steer to come over. ' ' In the meantime another 
 damsel came to occupy a vacant seat. 
 
212 THE SEARCH 
 
 "That seat's engaged," said Tony, pulling the chair 
 away from her. Daisy came forward in repsonse to a beck 
 from the first woman. She seemed to be about sixteen years 
 of age, of still younger appearance, and wore short skirts. 
 
 "Sit down, Daisy, and join us," was Tony's greeting. 
 The youthful appearance of the girl discomfited Howard and 
 Hill, who were loth to be seen in her company. The im- 
 portance of their mission, however, necessitated their toler- 
 ance. 
 
 Howard ordered some beer, while Tony joked with the 
 two girls. Neither Howard nor Hill were in a mood to 
 either waste time, or enter into conversation, both men be- 
 ing impatient to continue their search, if Martha Hill was 
 not there. 
 
 Tony came to the point, when he asked the elder of the 
 two, "How many girls do they employ here?" 
 
 The girl thought for a moment, as if counting them, 
 and at length said, "Nine." 
 
 Tony's practiced eye ran over those present, counting 
 seven. "Where's the other two?" 
 
 "They're upstairs; they've got friends." 
 
 ' ' I was looking for an old girl of mine, ' ' remarked Tony, 
 in an offhand manner. 
 
 "What's her name?" 
 
 "Clem Montague. She used to be at Kat6 Kanter's." 
 
 "She's not here. One of the girls upstairs is a little 
 Jewess, and the other's a very stout woman." 
 
 Tony looked over at his two companions, who showed 
 a desire to go farther, 
 
 "We're going to leave you girls," said Tony, rising. 
 "Me and my friend were just passing. We thought we'd 
 call in — probably see you later." 
 
 They visited about a dozen places of a similar character, 
 
THE SEARCH 213 
 
 in all of which Tony seemed to be fairly well known to some 
 of the habitues. 
 
 As the night advanced, hilarity seemed to increase in 
 the places visited. In some of them the girls wished to 
 make freedom with Howard and Hill. When about to go 
 too far, Tony's "Cut it out" seemed to have a deterrent 
 effect, which was coupled with the remark, "We just looked 
 in to buy a couple of bottles of beer." 
 
 Howard and Hill ultimately came to the conclusion they 
 had the right fellow with them, and saw how difficult their 
 mission would have been without a guide. All three men 
 refrained from taking much of the beer, the object of their 
 search requiring them to keep their heads cool. Tony sipped 
 at his, which seemed to affect him very little. 
 
 The cabman followed them around somewhat in the 
 rear of the trio. This caused no comment, as the women in 
 the windows and on the doorsteps were used to such circum- 
 stances, believing that he had a slumming party for his fare. 
 As the night wore on, Howard and Hill became both weary 
 and despondent. It was about 2 a. m., while passing a restau- 
 rant, when Howard said, "Let us go in here, I must have 
 some refreshments. You please notify the cabman," ad- 
 dressing their guide. 
 
 When all were seated, Howard advised Tony and the 
 hackman to order what they wanted. Hill would have but 
 a cup of coffee. He didn't feel like eating, nor did Howard, 
 who felt very much disheartened at the fruitlessness of their 
 search. 
 
 "Did you get any tidings of her?" was the inquiry of 
 the cabman, who had been trailing behind the searchers, 
 without having an opportunity to communicate with them. 
 
 "Not a word," replied Howard. "No one seems to 
 know anything as to where she is." 
 
214 THE SEARCH 
 
 "We'll find her sure, if she's in this district," remarked 
 Tony, in a confident manner. "There's a good many places 
 to visit yet." 
 
 "There seems to be an entire colony of such places," 
 said Hill, who up to this time had taken little part in the 
 conversation. 
 
 "Yes, this is one of the segregated districts," remarked 
 the cabman. "Nothing's out of order here, only murder, 
 and that's no uncommon occurrence in this territory." 
 
 "What do you suggest, Tony?" inquired Howard. 
 
 "That we keep going. It's early yet." 
 
 Howard pulled out his watch, which registered 2:30 
 a. m. 
 
 "Yes, let us look further," said Robert Hill, in his 
 anxiety to find the lost one. 
 
 After paying their score they set out, the cabman to 
 see to his conveyance, Tony to lead the two men so vitally 
 interested. 
 
 Turning into Lake street, Tony stopped in front of a 
 basement. There were hieroglyphics in Chinese characters 
 facing you as you looked down into the tunnel-like aperture, 
 where all seemed as dark as a dungeon. 
 
 Hill and Howard looked at one another as in doubt of 
 the advisability of following Tony, who was already half 
 way down. 
 
 "Let us go down," said Hill, following the man in ad- 
 vance. Tony shoved open the door without knocking, and 
 walked in, followed by the men he was escorting. 
 
 On entering the basement their further progress was 
 barred by a counter "L" shaped, which effectually pre- 
 vented any further progress to the interior. The rear of 
 the basement was shut off by what seemed a canvas par- 
 tition about seven feet high. 
 
THE SEARCH 215 
 
 ''Hello, John, how are you?" said the guide, saluting 
 a rather large Chinaman, who was on the opposite side of 
 the counter. 
 
 "Velly well." 
 
 The Chinaman looked from Tony to the two stalwart 
 men behind him with some misgivings. 
 
 * ' All right, John, friends of ours, ' ' leaving a dollar note 
 on the counter, and, at the same time, lifting up the swing- 
 ing part of the counter and walking in, followed by the two 
 men. 
 
 ''We're going to hit the pipe, John." 
 
 The Chinaman salaamed to his three visitors, as they 
 passed behind the screened part of the basement, toward 
 the rear. The place was in semi-gloom, the only light being 
 given from a number of Chinese lanterns hung from the 
 low ceiling. A peculiar, and somewhat offensive odor per- 
 meated the place, which assailed both the nostrils and 
 stomachs of the two countrymen, who were unaccustomed 
 to such haunts. As their eyes became accustomed to the 
 light they noticed a number of lounging places of crude 
 lumber, arranged as double-deckers close to the walls on 
 both sides of the basement, from some of which a faint smoke 
 was emanating, while discordant murmurings were heard 
 from others. A little way from the entrance, a Chinaman 
 sat before a bench, on which was an array of peculiar-shaped 
 pipes. A spirit lamp throwing off a small blue flame was 
 on the bench before him. There was a plate also on the 
 bench, on which was a piece of dark compound, resembling 
 the shape and consistency of putty. 
 
 "Get me a pipe, John," said Tony, in familiar manner. 
 
 The Chinaman immediately got a piece of the com- 
 pound, about the size of a large pea, on the end of what 
 resembled a bodkin, and held it over the flame, twisting it 
 
216 THE SEAECH 
 
 in a manner to prevent it from falling from the skewer-like 
 utensil he held in his hand, while he was preparing it. Tony 
 nudged his two associates to follow him in a tour around 
 the basement. Looking into the bunks as they passed, many 
 of them were occupied by persons of both sexes, some in 
 a comatose condition. Others, who were still smoking, 
 gazed at their visitors in an imbecile manner. As they 
 reached one they noticed a fairly well-dressed female, lying 
 with her face to the wall. Tony unceremoniously reached 
 for her head and turned her face to the front for inspection. 
 Her countenance was a perfect blank, except for a sickly 
 smile with which she looked at her visitor, who passed on. 
 In other of the lounging places were other females, young 
 and old. To each Tony gave a casual examination to see if 
 tJie party they were in search of was one of the inmates. 
 
 Howard and Hill showed some impatience. "Let us 
 get out of here," exclaimed Howard. "This is horrible." 
 
 "What about my pipe?" said Tony, laughing, as they 
 reached the Chinaman, who had been cooking the coke. 
 He offered the pipe. 
 
 "Never mind, John, we haven't time," remarked Tony 
 to him. 
 
 The Chinaman looked at all three men. His counte- 
 nance portraying no visible expression any more than would 
 have had a wax figure. Reaching the street, Howard and 
 Hill took a deep draught of the fresh morning air into their 
 lungs, which was a great relief to both. 
 
 "Awful!" exclaimed Howard. Bob Hill was dumb. 
 He seemed as if he was prepared for anything. 
 
 Tony laughed at Howard's exclamation, "There's 
 worse than that," he remarked. 
 
 "Hardly possible," was Howard's rejoinder. 
 
THE SEARCH 217 
 
 As they went down Lake street Tony stood in front 
 of a saloon. "This is a tough joint," he remarked. ''One 
 of the worst, but the fellow has a pull, in fact he is influ- 
 ential in city affairs. Let us go in, but I don't expect to 
 find Clem here." 
 
 ' ' Let us go in anyhow, ' ' remarked Hill, in his eagerness 
 to keep up the search. As they approached the bar they 
 noticed a heavily set man, showily dressed, with a massive 
 gold chain across his breast, extending to both of his vest 
 pockets, with a large pendant hanging from the center. He 
 was surrounded by a group which seemed in converse with 
 him, and appeared to be enjoymg the conversation, what- 
 ever the subject was, and he paid no attention whatever to 
 the three men who had just entered. 
 
 Howard ordered the drinks. ''I must have a little 
 spirits," suggested Hill, ''I don't feel well." The strain 
 was telling on his vigorous constitution. 
 
 "Take a little brandy, then," suggested Howard. He 
 and the guide ordered snitts of beer. 
 
 They were but a short time at the bar, when an elderly 
 woman approached them with the inquiry, "Would you 
 gentlemen like to go upstairs?" Howard looked at Tony 
 to see if it met with his approval. 
 
 "Yes," he said, "we will go up in a few minutes. Will 
 you take a drink with us?" 
 
 Howard ordered another round, after which the dame 
 led them toward the stairs. "Fifty cents each, please," she 
 said, as she approached the first landing. Howard gave her 
 the amount demanded. The woman opened the door to a 
 large room, where a number of nude women sat around in 
 different postures — some on forms, others on their hunkers. 
 One in particular they noticed gibbering to herself. An- 
 other seemed to be making a vain attempt to climb the wall 
 
218 THE SEARCH 
 
 of the room. On the countenance of all the women was a 
 sickly death-like pallor. 
 
 Howard and Hill gave a hasty glance around the room. 
 "Let us go," said the latter, with baited breath. 
 
 When he reached the street Hill, turning to Howard, 
 said with vehemence, "If my sister was in a place like that 
 I would leave her there, as one eternally damned." 
 
 "If I had a sister," said Tony, "in a place like that, 
 bad as I am, I would kill her. They ply them there with all 
 the dope they want; they're a rotten crowd, and the man 
 who is fascinated with a group like that should be unsexed. ' ' 
 
 "That place reminds me," said Howard, "of Dante's 
 lines: 'Whoso enters here leaves hope behind!' " 
 
 "Where else?" said Hill, in a resolute manner. He 
 looked at Howard for an answer, who, in turn, looked at 
 Tony. 
 
 "Just as you please," Tony remarked, but, with a 
 sudden thought, "I would like to try one more place." 
 
 "Then let us go," said Howard, "for I am beginning 
 to be weary of this horrible experience." 
 
 "This is the place," remarked Tony, standing in front 
 of a shabby-looking ramshackle of a building. "This fellow 
 runs a black-and-tan institution." 
 
 "What is that?" inquired Howard. 
 
 "He mixes the blacks and whites. We want to be care- 
 ful here." Entering the saloon they found a number of 
 men and women at the bar, both Caucasians and Africans. 
 The negresses looked particularly coarse. Howard felt some 
 scare on seeing the motley group, but, being once in, there 
 was nothing left but to go to the bar and order drinks. The 
 women in close proximity ordered at the same time. How- 
 ard tendered a bill. The man behind the bar not only took 
 the price of the drinks for the men, but for those ordered 
 
THE SEARCH 219 
 
 by the women also. Howard looked at Tony, who just 
 lifted his head to signify there was no use complaining. 
 
 Shut off from the bar by a partition was a room in the 
 rear, from which a Babel of tongues could be heard. "We'll 
 have to go back," whispered Tony, "I hear there's a good 
 crowd behind." As the three men entered through swing- 
 ing doors, three of the women followed them and solicited 
 drinks. Howard, though chafing under their undue inso- 
 lence, deemed it advisable to submit with the best grace 
 possible, and looked at Hill as a warning to him to curb 
 his temper. 
 
 While the drinks were being brought Tony took a 
 promenade around the place, as if in search of some one. 
 On returning, he hastily took his drink, saying, "Let us go." 
 Two of the women, who were colored, remonstrated saying, 
 "What's your hurry?" The men rose to go. The women 
 went out in advance of them. As they entered the bar on 
 their way out of the dive the two colored women closed in 
 on Howard. The largest of them tried to grab him by the 
 shoulders, while the other laid her hand on his watch chain. 
 
 "Let go, you black b !" shouted Tony, striking her 
 
 on the ear with all his might. She fell back with part of 
 Howard's watch chain in her hand. "And you too," yelled 
 Tony, striking the one who had attempted to pin Howard 
 by the shoulders full in the face. There was an immediate 
 rush of the men in the bar room to the place of conflict, one 
 yelling, "Damn you, you strike my women I'll cut your 
 heart out." Tony stood facing the colored men, at the same 
 time shouting to his friends to get out. Hill, seeing Tony 
 was about to be crowded by the miscreants, stood his ground, 
 and struck right and left, his ponderous fist laying low all 
 it came in contact with. "Get out!" again yelled Tony, 
 during the respite for the moment that Hill's fist had pro- 
 
220 THE SEARCH 
 
 dueed, he himself backing toward the door as rapidly as 
 he could, and at the same time confronting his opponents 
 in as threatening a manner as the circumstances warranted. 
 The cabman, who was close at hand, under the impression 
 they had got the girl, opened the door of his cab, ready to 
 receive his passengers. ' ' Get in there ! ' ' yelled Tony, * ' never 
 mind me." Howard entered the cab. Hill hesitated for a 
 moment. "Get in!" shouted Tony, who had just landed on 
 the fellow in advance of the gang. The cabman pushed Hill 
 in, slammed the door, and, jumping on his seat, struck two 
 of the contestants who were within reach vicious slashes 
 across the face with his whip, and then striking his horses 
 started off at a gallop. Hill, looking out of the window, 
 saw a colored man with a knife or razor in his hand rush 
 toward Tony, who side-stepped and ran for it, pursued by 
 a half dozen negroes. 
 
FOUND 221 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 FOUND. 
 
 The cabman made a detour of a few blocks in order to 
 throw off the trail the vicious crowd which made a show of 
 following them. "When at a safe distance he pulled up his 
 horses, so as to ask instructions. 
 
 "Where now?" he asked, as he saw Howard put his 
 head out of the window of the cab. 
 
 "I would like to drive around to Kanter's, if it is not 
 too late. I would like to find out what has become of the 
 young man we had with us." 
 
 "All right, but I'll have to drive in to Peoria street 
 from the north; it is hardly safe to go by Lake street." 
 
 On arriving at Kanter's, Howard instructed Hill to 
 stay in the carriage. "I'll go in and find out what I can — 
 I won't stay any time." 
 
 On entering the house, he looked around to see if their 
 guide of the evening was present. Not noticing him, he 
 went over to where Kate Kanter was sitting with a group 
 of men and girls. 
 
 Kate, recognizing him, said, "What luck? Did you 
 find her?" 
 
 "No," he whispered, "we had a row in one place we 
 were at, and we got separated from Tony. I thought per- 
 haps I would find him here," 
 
 "He's not arrived as yet. Will you wait?" 
 
 "No, but if he does come, will you please tell him we 
 want to meet him here at 10 in the morning?" 
 
222 FOUND 
 
 "Yes, I'll tell him." 
 
 "Thank you. I want to pay for a drink and then I'll 
 be going. I have a hack outside waiting for me." He then 
 paid for three bottles of beer, enough to treat the group, 
 and left. 
 
 On reaching the cab he was driven back to the hotel. 
 There he paid the cabman liberally, notifying him that if 
 they wanted his services they would find him at the stand. 
 
 That morning, before going to bed, the two friends 
 had a consultation as to what would be their future line of 
 action, both recognizing the difficulty of the proposition 
 that confronted them. 
 
 "I don't know what to do for the best," said HilL "I 
 must admit I am very much disheartened." 
 
 "Well, we'll sleep on it," said Howard. "I'm done up, 
 so I'll go to bed. We'll have time to talk it over before we 
 see our guide in the morning — that is, if he was lucky 
 enough to get away with his life." 
 
 "I'm ready for bed, too," remarked Hill, "so I'll turn 
 in. Good night!" 
 
 The following morning Howard and Hill reviewed the 
 situation at some length, both realizing the difficulty that 
 faced them from the fact of the great multiplicity of houses 
 to be visited, if a complete search of all had to be made. 
 
 "I'll tell you my opinion," said Howard, addressing 
 his friend, "but, in advance I want you to disabuse your 
 mind if you have any such thought of the notion that I am 
 tired of the pursuit. My time's my own, and I am willing 
 to keep it up for a month if need be, but we can do better." 
 
 ' ' Well, what do you propose ? I honor your judgment, ' ' 
 said Hill. 
 
 "It is this: If we go around the same as we did 
 last night for any length of time, and she gets to know we 
 
FOUND 223 
 
 are looking for her, she would go any length to avoid us, 
 and, since my experience with the j^oung man Kate Kanter 
 recommended, I think we might safely intrust the whole 
 matter to him. He to notify us by telegraph the moment 
 he locates her, without giving her the slightest inkling that 
 anyone was looking for her. On receipt of his message we 
 could take the next train and get her." 
 
 ''I think that's the best possible plan," remarked Hill. 
 
 ''Then let us get away. It will be near ten when we 
 get to Kanter 's. If Tony is there, I'll make all the arrange- 
 ments." 
 
 On reaching the lobby of the hotel, Howard secured a 
 couple of telegraph blanks. Reaching Kanter 's, Tony was 
 there waiting for them. He laughed when he saw them 
 coming in. 
 
 "That's a nice scrap you got me into last night," he 
 said, smiling. 
 
 "Well, Tony," said Howard, shaking hands with him, 
 "I must admit you're some scrapper." 
 
 "Your big friend," looking at Hill, "is pretty good 
 with his dukes, too, but the trouble with that crowd that 
 we ran up against last night is, they use razors on a man. 
 That's the reason I shouted for you fellows to get out, as 
 I knew what was coming. That's why I soaked the two 
 strong-arm women. They're worse than the men, and I 
 knew there was no use fooling with them." 
 
 "You did nobly, Tony," said Howard, "and we both 
 feel grateful to you." Hill smiled his indorsement, and 
 extended his hand to their guide of the night before as a 
 further mark of his approval. 
 
 "Well, Tony, we have decided to change our program, 
 and I am here to make a proposition to you. It is this : We 
 recognize the big job it is to go around all those places, and 
 
224 FOUND 
 
 feel that we can't render you much service, and, as you 
 know her, we intend to leave the whole matter in your 
 hands. You to telegraph to us the moment you locate her, 
 but don't say a word to her about us looking for her. We 
 have come to the conclusion that if we went around many 
 nights with you, she might find out we were looking for her 
 and give us the slip. She's terribly nervous, and probably 
 afraid of her brother, my friend here." 
 
 Tony looked up at Hill, it being the first intimation he 
 had gotten of the close relationship between her and one 
 of the men he had been with the night before. And, to his 
 credit, he felt a deeper interest in the search. 
 
 "Now, we know you'll be put to some expense, and I 
 propose to allow you fifteen dollars a week, until you either 
 find her, or give up the search, and my original proposition 
 as to the forty dollars as soon as you locate her holds good. 
 Now, what do you say?" 
 
 "I think that's all right, and I'll find her if she remains 
 in the city. Probably I may have to go over to the north 
 and south side districts and maybe to South Chicago — the 
 Strand, as they call it there, is one of the worst." 
 
 "What we want you to do then as soon as you locate 
 her is to go to the nearest telegraph office and send this 
 dispatch. I will write you a couple now," pulling the blanks 
 from his pocket and writing: 
 
 "Matthew Howard, 
 
 B , Michigan. 
 
 We have a surplus of blankets which we are anxious 
 to dispose of that will suit your trade. Come, inspect, and 
 make an offer. 
 
 JONES & CO., 
 Market St., Chicago." 
 
FOUND 225 
 
 "As soon as we receive your message we'll come by 
 the next train and meet you here." 
 
 "That's simple enough," remarked Tony, recognizing 
 Howard's practical methods. 
 
 "I will also leave you some envelopes already directed 
 to me, marked Personal, in which you can occasionally let 
 us know of your progress. I wonder if they have any 
 envelopes here." 
 
 "I can get some across the street," remarked Tony. 
 
 "Then go get some for me," said Howard, "and also 
 some stamps if they have any. Here's a quarter." 
 
 Tony went, and soon returned with both stamps and 
 envelopes. 
 
 Howard directed and stamped them, writing Personal 
 on each in a large round hand. "That will do now," hand- 
 ing them to Tony and telling him to put them in his pocket. 
 "You understand now?" addressing their agent. 
 
 "Perfectly." 
 
 "Well, here's your fifteen dollars, to begin with, and 
 this day week, if you don't telegraph to us in the meantime, 
 you will find a letter here waiting for you with fifteen dol- 
 lars enclosed." 
 
 Howard, looking at Hill, asked, "Is there anything else 
 you can think of. Bob?" 
 
 "No, I think that covers the ground." 
 
 "Well, then we'll have something to drink. What will 
 you take, Tony?" 
 
 "I always drink beer." 
 
 "Then get us a bottle." The regular waiter of the 
 establishment not coming on duty until night, Howard gave 
 him the money for the beer, which Tony soon produced, 
 with the glasses. 
 
226 FOUND 
 
 ' ' Here 's wishing you success ! ' ' said Howard, as he took 
 his glass in his hand. 
 
 ''Thank you," said Tony. ''I'll find her if she's in 
 Chicago." 
 
 "I would like to see Kate before I go," remarked 
 Howard. 
 
 "I don't believe she's up yet, but I'll find out." 
 
 Tony, on returning, said she 'd be down in a few minutes. 
 On her arriving, Howard thanked her for the assistance 
 she had given them. "We find Tony all right," he re- 
 marked. "He did his best, and I have secured his further 
 service, as we are going home today." 
 
 "Well, boys, when you come to town don't forget to 
 call, and if I hear anything I'll let you know when you 
 come." 
 
 "We'll see j-ou again, but should you find anything in 
 reference to her, you tell Tony. He's got our address. 
 What will you take before we leave you?" 
 
 "It is too early for me to take anything. I'll wait till 
 you call again." 
 
 ' ' Then we '11 be going, but, Miss Kanter, if you can find 
 out anything, you'll find that we'll appreciate it. So good- 
 bye!" They shook hands and parted, Howard and Hill 
 to go to the hotel, settle their bill, and take the next train 
 to B , both sadly disappointed. 
 
 A week elapsed, and Howard received a letter from 
 Tony. It read: 
 
 "Have searched nearly every house on the west side, 
 and could not find a trace of her. Am going to South Chi- 
 cago tomorrow. Received the fifteen dollars you sent me, 
 for which accept thanks. Will write again in a couple of 
 days. Yours truly, Tony." 
 
FOUND 227 
 
 Two days after, Howard received another letter : ' ' Made 
 a thorough search of every crib in the South Chicago regu- 
 lated district. Had to buy beer like a drunken sailor. The 
 Judys thought I was a customer pining for some of them. 
 Its a cheap place anyhow; only costing a quarter a throw 
 for the beer. No one there ever heard of her and, as I 
 located every recruit they had got within the past month, 
 I feel sure she's not there. Will try the south side for a 
 couple of nights. — Tony." 
 
 On Howard receiving the South Chicago letter he wrote 
 Tony, telling him to persevere, and inclosed a ten-dollar 
 bill for expenses, with further instructions not to be shy on 
 funds, but find the girl if possible.. 
 
 On the third day after receiving the South Chicago 
 letter, Howard received another: 
 
 "Mr. Howard. 
 
 Dear Sir: — I am sorry to have to say that I made a 
 thorough search of the south side as far as I could, without 
 any success. I begin to believe she must have left the city. 
 During my tour through the south side I found some who 
 knew her, but none could give me any information as to her 
 present whereabouts. Those who knew her said she used 
 to work in a swell joint here, but that she was fired about 
 a year ago. Will try the north side tonight and tomorrow, 
 and then write you for instructions. Tony." 
 
 Howard saw by the tenor of Tony's letter he was some- 
 what disheartened, so he wrote him a letter of encourage- 
 ment, inclosing fifteen dollars, and then awaited anxiously 
 his reply. Hill and Howard met daily, and discussed the 
 tenor of Tony's letters. Hill had little to say. He was 
 stolid in his manner since the first tidings of Martha, his 
 usually sociable disposition had left him, and he read Tony's 
 
228 FOUND 
 
 letters with little show of disappointment. Not so with 
 Matthew Howard, who watched the mail man's arrival with 
 interest and anxiety. On the arrival of a letter marked ''Per- 
 sonal,^' which he recognized as being from his agent in Chi- 
 cago, he immediately opened it in advance of his extensive 
 correspondence. After reading, he stuffed it in his pocket, 
 to be answered if necessary at the earliest opportunity. 
 The promised letter describing Tony's search on the north 
 side he waited for with impatience. It arrived on a Mon- 
 day morning. He sorted his mail in his private office, and 
 when he came across it he ran his opener beneath the flaps 
 of the envelope, his hand trembling as he opened it and 
 having little hope of hearing of the lost one. It read : 
 
 "Mr. Howard, 
 
 Dear Sir : — I am afraid the jig is up. I looked through 
 a number of places on the north side, but could learn noth- 
 ing about her. There are numerous assignation houses and 
 roomers in that section, but, of course, I could not get access 
 to them, so I confined my efforts to the saloons which abound 
 in the district, and interviewed the women, none of whom 
 had ever heard of her. I feel now that I have done the best 
 I could, and don 't feel warranted in going any farther with- 
 out instructions. My own opinion is that she's not in Chi- 
 cago, a conclusion Kate has also reached. As she says, 
 Clem and she were pretty good friends and, if she was in 
 the city she would surely call on her. Hoping to hear from 
 you by return mail, etc. 
 
 Yours truly, Tony." 
 
 Howard placed the letter in his pocket just as Rachel, 
 his sister, peered into his private office and said : 
 
 "Matt, are you not coming to any breakfast this morn- 
 ing? Everything will be cold." 
 
FOUND 229 
 
 "Yes, Sis, I'm coming." Rising from his seat, he fol- 
 lowed her into the dining room. 
 
 The morning papers lay on the table close by his plate, 
 and like many business men he invariably read them at his 
 meals. Picking up a Chicago paper, on the front page he 
 noticed an item of which the head line attracted his atten- 
 tion. The caption was: 
 
 A FLOATER 
 
 "The body of a young woman, apparently about the age 
 of 23, was found in the Chicago river on Friday morning, 
 and the remains were taken to the county morgue. There 
 is no indication that she met a violent death, as no marks 
 were found on her person except a slight abrasion on her 
 forehead, which was caused probably by contact with the 
 abutment of the bridge near which she was found. She had 
 on a print dress, very short in the skirt for a woman of her 
 years, a flannel petticoat, undershirt, no drawers, and low 
 shoes. There were no marks on any of her clothing which 
 would lead to her identity. If a suicide, it could not be a 
 case of destitution, as, on opening her dress, a twenty-dollar 
 bill was found next her skin." 
 
 Matthew Howard turned deathly pale as he laid down 
 the paper. His sister Rachel, in alarm, said, "What is it, 
 Matt, what is to do with you? You're sick!" 
 
 "Yes, Rachel, I will have to lie down for a while." 
 
 Picking up the paper he retired to his room, where he 
 wept bitterly. "My poor Martha! My love, I feel you are 
 no more!" 
 
 His sister knocked at the door, but he refused her ad- 
 mittance. She heard him sobbing. 
 
 "Let me in, Matt!" she said. 
 
230 FOUND 
 
 **No, let me alone." 
 
 "Shall I send for the doctor?" 
 
 ''No, let me rest." 
 
 Alarmed, she went to the phone and calling up Robert 
 Hill, said, "Bob, call in at noon. I am afraid there's some- 
 thing wrong with Matt." 
 
CLAIMED 231 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 CLAIMED. 
 
 The noon-hour whistle at the mill had not ceased its 
 shrill notes, when Robert Hill set out to find what the trou- 
 ble was with his friend Howard. He had a presentiment 
 that it was news from Chicago in reference to his sister, 
 and felt that it was unsatisfactory, from the tone of Rachel 
 Howard's call for him to come during the noon hour. He, 
 however, had steeled his mind for the worst. 
 
 On nearing the store he observed Rachel at the door 
 looking in the direction she knew he would come. 
 
 "What's up?" inquired Hill, as soon as he got within 
 speaking distance. 
 
 "Matthew is very sick," was her reply, "and he won't 
 let me send for the doctor." 
 
 "Where is he, up in his room?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Without further delay he climbed the stairs and, with- 
 out knocking, pushed the door open, and saw Howard re- 
 clining on a couch in apparent distress — a newspaper beside 
 him. 
 
 "What's the trouble now? Bad news, I know!" 
 
 Howard handed him the paper, pointing to the para- 
 graph which had the anonuncement of his sister's death. 
 He read it, every word, and then, looking at Howard, Hill 
 said, " 'Tis well." 
 
 He sat down for a moment, and then, addressing his 
 friend, exclaimed, "I will go to Chicago by the next train." 
 
232 CLAIMED 
 
 "It is terrible ! ' ' was all Matt could say. 
 
 "I would rather have her dead than an inmate of one 
 of those horrible institutions we visited the other night; 
 so brace up, as I will want you to go with me." 
 
 "I will be ready." 
 
 "Then I'll go back to the mill and make arrangements 
 so that I can be relieved for a few days. I'll call for you 
 before train time." With that he took his leave. 
 
 Howard was surprised at the indifference Bob Hill dis- 
 played, his impression being that he would break out in 
 parox3^sms of passion. Howard's chief cause for anxiety 
 Avas that he had not played his part well, in not promising 
 Martha that he would keep her secret inviolate, then 
 notify her brother as to the true conditions, and go and 
 secure her. He said to himself, if a deception was ever 
 permissible it was in her case, and much as he tried to 
 justify his conduct while in her company, still he could not 
 but reproach himself. That she had committed suicide he 
 had no doubt, and he felt he was in part responsible. So 
 it was with a heavy heart he accompanied his friend to the 
 train to assist in seeing to the remains of one in death that 
 he had admired so much in life, with all the ardor of a lover 
 in his young manhood, and with the keenest commiseration 
 and sympathy in the hour of her misfortune. 
 
 While on the train the two friends discussed ways and 
 means to explain their identification of her. This was one 
 of the problems, and another was, how to shield her name 
 and explain her long absence. 
 
 "I suppose you intend to bring her remains home?'* 
 inquired Howard. 
 
 "I assuredly do," said Hill. 
 
 "Well, then we'll have to find a reason for her absence, 
 jiiid T am going to save her reputation at all hazards. But 
 
CLAIMED 233 
 
 the first thing we'll have to do when we reach the city is 
 to go to the morgue, as I don't believe they keep unclaimed 
 bodies there any length of time." 
 
 On arriving at the morgue, the man in charge was in- 
 formed that they expected to identify the remains of a 
 woman who had been found in the river. 
 
 "That's her over there," replied the man, pointing to 
 a receptacle with a glass cover, through which the face of 
 the dead could be seen. The other portions of the body 
 were covered by a white sheet. 
 
 Both men recognized the corpse at the first glance, 
 Howard bursting into tears and turning away from the 
 sight. Hill looked stolidly, his teeth firmly clenched, his 
 brows knit. "I suppose they have held an inquest?" he 
 inquired of the morgue keeper. 
 
 "Yes, sir, it was an open verdict — death by drowning 
 — but there was no evidence as to how she got into the 
 river. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Is there any presumption that she met with violence ? ' ' 
 
 "No, none at all; it's a clear case. Hood, in his song 
 of the Shirt, amply explains it in the lines: 
 
 'One more unfortunate, 
 
 Weary of breath. 
 Rashly importunate. 
 
 Gone to her death.' " 
 
 ''Has anyone been here that recognized her?" 
 
 "No, sir, there has been quite a number of people who 
 
 looked at her, but not one who ever remembered seeing her 
 
 before." 
 
 "Well, we know her, and have come to claim the body." 
 "Then you'll have to see the warden, or the house 
 
 physician, if the warden isn't in." 
 
234 CLAIMED 
 
 "Come, Howard," said Hill, "brace up. We have no 
 time to lose. Where is the physician to be found?" 
 
 "The oflSce is on the second floor." 
 
 "Then we'll go and see him right away." 
 
 As they went toward the stairs leading to the house 
 physician's office, Hill remonstrated with Howard. "You'll 
 have to brace up, Matt. We've a lot to do." 
 
 "I can't help it. Bob!" 
 
 "Well you'll have to help it. Matt. You're a business 
 man, and I'll want your help." 
 
 "I'll be all right in a little while." 
 
 On entering the office of the house physician, that 
 gentleman treated them very courteously. 
 
 "What can I do for you, gentlemen?" he asked. 
 
 Howard, having regained his composure, advanced in 
 front of Hill. 
 
 "Doctor, do you remember some months ago having 
 a patient here by the name of Clementina Montague?" 
 
 "My dear sir, we have so many patients here that it is 
 hard for me to remember the names of any except those of 
 special cases. But what was she suffering from?" 
 
 "I believe it was a venereal trouble." 
 
 "Then she must have been in the lock ward." 
 
 "Yes, I thought you might remember her by the singu- 
 larity of her name." 
 
 "Well, I have a faint recollection of treating a woman 
 by a name something similar to that, but you see those girls 
 that are brought here from the sporting houses have as- 
 sumed names of a very uncommon character, some with the 
 object of disguising their identity, and others adopting 
 names that will sound either more euphonious or aristocratic 
 than those of their fathers or husbands. How long is it 
 since she was here? Of course, we can trace her." 
 
CLAIMED 235 
 
 "It's probably between five and six months." 
 
 "Then I'll have Miss Murphy down — she's the head 
 nurse in that ward, and perhaps she can give you some 
 information. I may say, however, when they once leave 
 here we lose all track of them, unless they take sick again 
 and have to come back." 
 
 Reaching for his telephone and receiving a reply, he 
 
 said, "Give me Ward No. ." After a few seconds he 
 
 said, "Is Miss Murphy there?" "Yes." "Please tell her 
 I would like to see her in my office," He hung up the 
 receiver. "She'll be down in a few minutes." 
 
 "Doctor, I suppose cases like Miss Montague's are very 
 numerous in a city like Chicago?" remarked Howard, while 
 they were waiting for the nurse. 
 
 "Yes, far more numerous than the general public con- 
 templates, and they are the forerunners of numerous com- 
 plaints, in the fact that those suffering from the contagion 
 have their vitality sapped, which makes them susceptible 
 to many diseases, especially such as rheumatism, tubercu- 
 losis, locomotor ataxia and other ills too numerous to men- 
 tion — but here's Miss Murphy." 
 
 "Miss Murphy," said the physician, addressing her, 
 "those two gentlemen are here inquiring about a patient 
 of yours that was here five or six months ago by the name 
 of " looking over at Howard to fill in the name. 
 
 "Clementina Montague," said Howard. 
 
 * ' Yes, I remember her, ' ' replied the nurse. * * Don 't you 
 know, doctor, the woman who had the brain fever and you 
 had so much trouble to pull through?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, I do remember her now. I also remember 
 the warden and I went to some trouble to find where she 
 belonged, but, I believe, nurse, we failed, didn't we?" 
 
 "Yes, I often tried to listen during her ravings to see 
 
236 CLAIMED 
 
 if I could glean any information as to where she came from, 
 but not a word — she was so incoherent. She frequently 
 called upon some person by the name of Bob and a Matt 
 Howard to come and save her." Howard hastily left the 
 room, sobbing bitterly. 
 
 Hill blinked his eyes, knit his brows, and firmly closed 
 his teeth, so as to suppress his feelings. 
 
 Both doctor and nurse looked inquiringly at Hill. 
 
 "Probably you knew her?" said the doctor, after a 
 lapse of a few seconds. 
 
 ''Yes, we knew her well. She was lost to us for years, 
 but at length we have found her." 
 
 "I am glad of that," said the nurse, "as she was a 
 lovable character and an excellent patient. She told me 
 before she left that she'd die before she'd go back to the 
 life she'd been leading." 
 
 "Where is she now?" inquired the doctor. 
 
 "In the morgue," was Hill's answer. 
 
 "Too bad ! Too bad !" as the doctor looked at the nurse. 
 
 "I must go see her," said the nurse, "I am sure I can 
 tell if it's she." 
 
 Howard returned to the room, anxious to bring their 
 interview to an end. "We've come to claim the body," was 
 his first remark. 
 
 "Well, I feel confident you're the proper parties, and 
 if there is no other claimant she will be at your disposal. 
 Nurse, you said you were going down to see her?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Then let me know if any other party has identified 
 the remains, and report." 
 
 "Before we leave, doctor, we want to thank you for 
 your courtesy, and probably you could recommend us to a 
 
CLAIMED 237 
 
 good undertaker, who would take care of the body and 
 furnish a casket, as we have to take her out of the city." 
 
 "Well, there's C. B. close by. I can safely recom- 
 mend him." 
 
 "Thank you, doctor. Now I would like to ask you a 
 question that I feel confident you can answer." 
 
 "Maybe not," said the doctor, smiling, "but if I can 
 I will." 
 
 "Well, it is this: Did you ever know of cases where 
 persons come to a strange city and lose their identity, or 
 did not remember whence they came?" 
 
 The doctor picked up a piece of perfectly blank paper 
 from his desk, and, looking at Howard, said, ' ' In my limited 
 experience I have known cases to which you refer where 
 minds were as void as that, and some of them never recov- 
 ered their reason — and had to be placed in institutions. 
 Others proved useful in many industrial pursuits, but 
 knowledge of their early being never came back to them. 
 Of course, those are isolated cases. By the by, I must know 
 your name." 
 
 "I am the Matthew Howard she often raved about." 
 
 "I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Howard, and hope to 
 meet you again under more agreeable circumstances. Now, 
 Miss Murphy, you go down with those gentlemen and see 
 if you can recognize Miss Montague's remains." 
 
 At the first glance Miss Murphy said, "That's she. I 
 would know her among thousands. You see I had her under 
 ray care for about four months." 
 
 "During that time, I am sure, Miss Murphy," said 
 Howard addressing her, "you treated her considerately." 
 
 "Yes, I took kindly to her. I thought she was very 
 different from the class of women we receive from such 
 places." 
 
238 CLAIMED 
 
 ' ' Then, Miss Murphy, I would like you to do me a favor. 
 I want you to buy a pair of gloves or some article that you 
 can use." He took hold of her hand, and placed a five- 
 dollar bill in it. She protested that that wasn't necessary, 
 but Howard persisted. 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you what you'll do now. You go over 
 to the undertaker's and make what arrangements you de- 
 sire, and tell him to call for the body. I will have the 
 doctor make out the necessary certificate." 
 
 Both Hill and Howard shook hands with the kindly 
 little woman, and sought out the undertaker, from whose 
 catalogue they selected a very superior casket. 
 
 "I will have her properly laid out in my mortuary 
 chapel tomorrow morning, subject to your instructions." 
 
 After leaving the undertaker's, Howard said, "Now, 
 Bob, we'll go over to Kanter's and find out if they have 
 heard of Martha's death; if they haven't, we'll see Tony, 
 pay him a little money I owe him, and tell him to give up 
 the search for her, as we have changed our minds on the 
 matter." 
 
 On their meeting Tony at the house of Kate Kanter, 
 he was emphatic in his declaration that Clem Montague had 
 left the city. 
 
 "I have done my best," he said, "and I don't think 
 there is any use of looking farther. If I should happen to 
 hear anything about her I can telegraph to you." 
 
 "We are well satisfied with you, Tony, as we believe 
 you have worked faithfully, and that there is no use looking 
 farther for the present ; so here 's the balance of the money 
 we owe you, and we hope you're satisfied." 
 
 "Perfectly. I am only sorry I could not have won that 
 other forty. If I had found her we would have brought 
 her out of the house she was in if I had to use my gun" — 
 
CLAIMED 239 
 
 putting his hand in his hip pocket and pulling our a very 
 effective looking weapon. 
 
 "It can't be helped," remarked Hill, **so there is noth- 
 ing left but to bid you and Kate good-bye. Where is she?'* 
 
 "I will bring her." 
 
 On Kate's arrival, she deplored the fact of their not 
 finding her. 
 
 ' ' She 's not in the city, in my opinion ; but if she is, and 
 we can locate her, you will hear from us." 
 
 Both Hill and Howard thanked her for the interest she 
 had displayed and left. 
 
 That night at the hotel the two men discussed the 
 problem as to how best break the news of her being found 
 to the people at B , and especially to her parents. 
 
 "I'll tell you my idea," said Howard. "We should 
 invoke the aid of Mr. Peterson, the pastor. He was deeply 
 interested in her as one of his choir, and is a constant visitor 
 at your house. We might write him a letter, telling him of 
 our miraculous discovery, and ask him to break the news to 
 your father and mother in as gentle a manner as he possi- 
 bly can. Of course, the news will give them a great shock, 
 but there will be some consolation in knowing they can at 
 least have her remains. I can tell a white lie without any 
 scruples, that my distress at the breakfast table was the 
 result of hearing of her death in the hospital. You and I, 
 Bob, are too well known in town for any one to question 
 our word, and if there are any explanations to be made you 
 leave that to me. You know nothing about it." 
 
 "I think that's, the best thing to do," agreed Hill. 
 
 "You see. Bob, they will have the news a day or 
 so in advance of our arrival. It will be the talk of the 
 town, and the neighboring country. The subject will be 
 thoroughly discussed in advance of our arrival with the 
 
240 CLAIMED 
 
 body. Many conjectures will be made, but the sympathy 
 every one in the district will have for your parents will, in 
 a measure, silence the gossippers, and when they come to 
 see me, as assuredly the}' will, I'll tell them a story that 
 there will be trouble to refute." 
 
 "Well, start in and write your letter, Matt. I would 
 like to get it away as soon as possible. ' ' 
 
 Matt immediately started to frame his letter, and wrote 
 as follows : 
 
 "Reverend Thomas Peterson. 
 
 Dear Sir: — I feel that in writing you this letter you 
 will receive both a great surprise and a shock, but to you, 
 above all others, myself and Mr. Robert Hill will have to 
 appeal for aid in this very sad affair. We are all members 
 of your church, and it's part of your mission to offer your 
 sympathy and advice to those in distress, and, knowing you 
 as we do, feel that you will cheerfully take up the task. 
 
 You, of course, remember Martha Hill, daughter of 
 Mr. and Mrs. Robert Hill, whose departure from our midst 
 some years ago caused such deep gief to all who knew her, 
 and to know her was to love her. Well, as you are aware, 
 when she left us to come to this city, for many months we 
 anxiously awaited tidings of her, but none came, until we 
 ultimately gave up all hope and believed her dead. No other 
 reason could be assigned for her long silence, as she was 
 of an affectionate disposition, and sincerely devoted to her 
 family and friends. You may judge my surprise and con- 
 sternation when I received information -that a person lying 
 in one of the hospitals in this city had a memorandum 
 on her person with my name and address. On receiving 
 the notice I had an unaccountable desire to investigate who 
 it was, and, strange as it may seem to you, I had a presenti- 
 
I 
 
 CLAIMED 241 
 
 ment, which I tried hard to banish from my mind, that it 
 might have some reference to our dearly beloved friend. 
 The news so preyed upon me that I took sick at the very 
 thought, and conceived an irresistible desire to investigate. 
 So I induced Bob Hill to come with me. When we reached 
 the hospital, judge our consternation to find the remains of 
 our lost friend. She had died the day before. On our arrival 
 with the body I will give further explanation. In the mean- 
 time, in advance of our coming, we want you to break the 
 sad news to her parents, and offer them such consolation 
 and comfort in their hour of tribulation, as we know you 
 can. 
 
 Sincerely and respectfully yours, 
 
 Robert Hill, and 
 Matthew Howard." 
 
 Hill heartily approved the letter, which was duly mailed. 
 
242 HOME AT LAST 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 HOME AT LAST. 
 
 Early the following morning, Hill and Howard set out 
 for the undertaker's to view the body. Both men gazed 
 long and pensively at the remains. The undertaker stood 
 by to hear their approval of his work, and to receive further 
 instructions. 
 
 "You have surely done your work well," remarked 
 Hill. 
 
 "We always try to do our best," said the party spoken 
 to. "You see she was somewhat discolored and the face 
 partly bloated — she must have been dead some days." 
 
 "Probably so," remarked her brother, "still I must say 
 under the circumstances you have done well. I like the 
 robe very much, and the way she is laid out. The casket 
 is also very fine." 
 
 "Well, your friend," turning to Howard, "gave me 
 carte blanche to spare no expense. Still I think you will 
 find my bill reasonable. There is a matter, however, that 
 I think should be attended to before we close up the coffin, 
 and that is, we need some emblem of her faith. If you let 
 me know what religion she professed I will furnish it." 
 
 Hill, who up to this time had acted as spokesman, 
 remained silent, his reason being, that, since learning the 
 facts of his sister's betrayal and persecution, he had become 
 somewhat of an agnostic. 
 
 Howard, noticing his silence, answered the undertaker's 
 inquiry. 
 
HOME AT LAST 243 
 
 "She was a member of The Reformed Evangelical 
 Church. ' ' 
 
 "Then I will try to secure something appropriate." 
 
 "You can come into the office," remarked Howard, 
 "and I will pay you your account." 
 
 The bill having been settled and deemed satisfactory, 
 Hill gave the undertaker instructions to have the coffin 
 properly boxed up and at the depot at 12 o'clock sharp. 
 
 Few, if any, of this particular faith, C. B , the un- 
 dertaker, had ever occasion to bury, and, failing to find 
 anything distinctively identified with her church, furnished 
 instead a neat edition of the book of Common Prayer, be- 
 lieving that the Reformed Evangelical Church was but a 
 branch of the numerous Protestant organizations. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Peterson, with a sorrowing heart, broke 
 the news as gently as he could to the bereaved parents of 
 the long lost girl. The old couple were prostrated by the 
 recital. All three sat in silence for a time, the reverend 
 gentleman being too much oppressed himself to offer the 
 consolation he intended. When the old couple regained 
 somewhat their composure, he would extend condolence. 
 Hill senior began to ply him with questions as to where she 
 had been, who found her, why did she not write, or come 
 home; to all of which his answer was, "We'll not know 
 much until Robert and Matt come back, and then they will 
 explain all. I believe, however, God has been good in restor- 
 ing her body to us. We will at least know where she rests 
 in peace." 
 
 The old proverb that "111 news travels fast" was veri- 
 led in the case of Martha Hill. Before an hour had passed 
 people stood in groups discussing the news. 
 
 "Martha's been found!'" was the utterance proclaimed 
 from mouth to mouth. The children in the schools who lived 
 
244 HOME AT LAST 
 
 some distance from the center ran home with haste to in- 
 form their parents. To every person they met on the way 
 they shouted, "They've found Martha! or, "They've got 
 Martha!" Some added, "She'll be home today!" while 
 others gave different versions to those they met, which had 
 to be brief, as they were in great haste to inform their 
 parents of the startling news. 
 
 The men at the mill, on receiving the first news of her 
 being found, were not informed of her death, and rejoiced 
 for Bob's sake, but when later informed of her being dead 
 a corresponding depression permeated the entire works. 
 
 "Too bad! Too bad !" was a frequent exclamation. "I 
 am sorry for Bob." 
 
 "How he loved that girl and grieved over her loss!" 
 said the manager of the mill to a group who had congregated 
 in the office. Just then a messenger boy arrived with a 
 telegram. It was brief: 
 
 "Mr. . 
 
 Union Mills, 
 
 B , Michigan. 
 
 Will arrive in B by the train due at 3 :30 p. m. 
 
 Robert Hill." 
 
 "Then we'll close down at 3 o'clock," said the manager 
 to those present. "Notify the assistant engineer, and tell 
 those in your different departments." 
 
 Long before train time, the people stood around in 
 groups. Many were the suggestions advanced for her long 
 absence, all vague and far from the truth. None, however, 
 doubted her virtue. They only knew her as the fond daugh- 
 ter, the good, sociable, religious girl, the general conclusion 
 being that she must have met some accident that prevented 
 her from communicating with her friends. "Perhaps," con- 
 
HOME AT LAST 245 
 
 jectured one, "she has been in some institution all the time." 
 All, however, waited in suspense to hear the facts in the 
 case after the arrival of her brother and sweetheart, as they 
 knew Matt Howard was. 
 
 The manager of the mill had selected six of his men to 
 aid in carrying the body, notifying them to rush home and 
 dress up. 
 
 The question of where the remains should find a tem- 
 porary resting place was discussed by him and the Rev. 
 Mr. Peterson, both of whom interviewed the old couple as to 
 where they desired her to be placed. 
 
 ''What do you think for the best?" inquired Mr. Hill 
 of the manager of the mill. 
 
 "This cottage of yours is very small," was his answer. 
 
 ''I want her to be brought right home," said the mother, 
 between her sobs. 
 
 The manager of the mill looked at his reverence, who 
 was mute on the subject. 
 
 "I would like to make a suggestion," said the mill man, 
 ''if agreeable. The whole countryside is interested in at 
 least getting a look at her, the depot is crowded already, 
 and if you bring her remains here there will be a jam and 
 a number of people will be disappointed. What I would 
 suggest is, that she be placed in the chancel of the church, 
 and all those who wish to view the remains will get an 
 opportunity." 
 
 "I think that's the best," said Hill senior, looking at 
 his wife, who offered no objection, and it was agreed. 
 
 When the train hove in sight, the town marshal and his 
 aids had great difficulty in keeping the people assembled 
 clear of the danger line. The youngsters were extra trouble- 
 some, having to be driven from the track repeatedly. Prefer- 
 ence was shown to the women and girls who had assembled. 
 
246 HOME AT LAST 
 
 many of them having been brought up together, attending 
 the same school and church. The manager of the mill, who 
 had assumed the responsibility of conducting the remains to 
 the church, was surrounded by his six assistants. 
 
 Howard was the first to leave the train, followed by 
 Hill. Without a word they went to the rear where the 
 baggage coach was situated, the manager of the mill and his 
 assistants following behind in respectful silence. The rail- 
 way men were already unloading the box containing the 
 casket. 
 
 The manager of the mill had a conversation with Robert 
 and Howard in reference to where the remains should be 
 taken, Hill glancing at the crowd which was pressing around 
 on every side, and recognizing the practicability of the plan 
 suggested. 
 
 The engineer began to toll his bell for the crowd to 
 stand clear so that the train might speed on its way; the 
 railway porters at the little depot had trouble to keep the 
 course of the train clear, as the crowd in its eagerness to 
 see what M^as going on were too close to the danger line. 
 This was particularly true of the urchins, some of whom had 
 taken possession of the steps of the passenger coaches as a 
 point of vantage. At length the course was clear, and the 
 train went on its way, the engineer ringing his bell as if in 
 solemn tones far longer than usual. Even after the train 
 was out of sight the dismal tones of the bell could be heard, 
 as if it were a funeral dirge. 
 
 Finally six stalwart men raised the box on their 
 shoulders, and the march to church began. The Rev. Mr. 
 Peterson led the procession. By his side was the manager. 
 Then followed Hill and Howard. Behind them the men 
 carrying the box containing the casket came, and then the 
 long line of friends and citizens, the men with heads un- 
 
HOME AT LAST 247 
 
 covered and the women and girls, many with their hand- 
 kerchiefs to their eyes, sobbing bitterly. Howard had hard 
 work to suppress his feelings. Not so Robert Hill, who 
 marched head erect, his lips firmly set, looking neither to 
 the right nor left, but manifestly a man who had a resolve 
 on his mind that nothing could dislodge. And so he had. 
 
 On the cortege arriving at the church the edifice was 
 more than half filled in advance. Mr. and Mrs. Hill sat in 
 the front pew, with a number of the old neighbors in close 
 proximity. As the head of the procession entered, the peo- 
 ple assembled all rose, and mourning and sobbing were pain- 
 fully distinct. On the bearers of the box reaching the little 
 altar they laid the box on the trestle already placed there 
 for the purpose. 
 
 The church was soon filled to its utmost capacity. The 
 usher of the church furnished a screw driver so as to remove 
 the casket from the box, an operation the manager of 
 the mill undertook. The box being opened, the casket was 
 substituted in its place, when all those present gazed on 
 it with commiseration. The sliding window which was 
 placed so as to permit a view of the face and bust hav- 
 ing been opened, Rev. Mr. Peterson stood on the little plat- 
 form in front of the altar and at the head of the casket, 
 and said, "Let us pray." After the prayer he continued: 
 ' ' The funeral arrangements of our dearly beloved sister will 
 be announced in the near future. In the meantime it has 
 been decided by the family of the deceased that the remains 
 shall repose here, so that all who knew her, and to know 
 her was to love her, may have an opportunity to view the 
 body. I would respectfully request, however, that the be- 
 reaved family, commencing with her parents, be the first, 
 as they have had no opportunity as yet to gaze upon the 
 dearly beloved departed since the arrival of her remains in 
 
248 HOME AT LAST 
 
 town." The entire audience, except those known to be of 
 immediate relationship, kept their seats. The scenes that fol- 
 lowed were heartrending. Robert Hill had to support his 
 aged mother as she gazed through her tears upon the girl, — 
 ever good, and in whom all had great hopes. The manager 
 of the mill placed his arm under that of the father, who 
 showed symptoms of collapse. After a few moments, the old 
 couple were led to the exit of the church. Then followed the 
 immediate relatives, all in deep distress. The crowd stood in 
 awe as they saw Matt Howard leading his sister Rachel by 
 the arm. At the first sight of the remains she went into 
 hysterics — ^her heart had failed and she had to be carried 
 from the church. Then followed the younger members of 
 the Howard family, known by all assembled to be the closest 
 and oldest friends of the bereaved. At length the neighbors 
 who were all friends formed in procession around the casket 
 and retired from the church, so as to give those still waiting 
 the coveted opportunity of seeing the long lost girl whom 
 many present knew from childhood. 
 
 When Robert Hill and the manager of the mill had con- 
 ducted Mr. and Mrs. Hill home, both the old people were 
 too grief stricken to ask any questions. 
 
 "Mother," said Robert, "I will have to leave you for 
 a little while. I must go over and see Matt. We have a 
 good deal to do yet." He kissed his mother, who placed her 
 arms around his neck, and, then turning to the manager of 
 the mill, who remained aside, Hill said, "Mr. Robinson, I 
 am deeply indebted to you for your kindness." 
 
 "Don't mention it, Bob. I am heartily sorry for the 
 distress of you and your family, and anything I can do 
 for you just let me know — I am at your service." He then 
 took his leave, after taking the hand of both Mr. and Mrs. 
 Hill, his looks betraying his grief. 
 
HOME AT LAST 249 
 
 The family doctor of the Howards had followed Rachel 
 and her brother to their home, feeling he would have to 
 give some attention to the girl. On Hill's arrival, he found 
 Matt in his room, the store having been closed on the news 
 arriving of Martha's discovery and death. 
 
 ''Matt, I have come to see what arrangements we will 
 have to make for Martha's burial." 
 
 "Well, Bob, the sooner the better. Your family have 
 had no occasion to secure a burial lot. I should like you to 
 get one as near ours as possible and, if you cannot do that, 
 as we have a large tract, I would like you to accept a por- 
 tion of ours." 
 
 "I'll see," said Hill, "but where is Rachel? I would 
 like to consult her. ' ' 
 
 "She's in her room. The doctor is attending to her, 
 but he says she will be all right when she gets a good cry 
 over. So we will have to let her alone." 
 
 "Then there is another matter I want to talk to you 
 about. Since you discovered my sister you have been to a 
 good deal of expense and I want to know how much it has 
 been so that I can pay you." 
 
 "Robert," looking at him, "you know I would do a 
 lot for you or your family, but there's one thing I will not 
 do, and that is, let you know what it has cost me, and I will 
 tell you my reason. I blame myself, in a great measure, for 
 Martha's misfortune. The day she left, before she placed 
 her foot on the step, I should have taken her in my arms 
 and said, 'I refuse to let you go,' and held her in my grasp 
 till the train went by. She was then the whole world to me, 
 but I had to let her have her own way, confident we would 
 soon have her back." 
 
 "None of us could have had any other thought, Matt. 
 So I don't believe you should reproach yourself." 
 
250 HOME AT LAST 
 
 ' ' Yes, but I do. Another blunder I hold myself respon- 
 sible for is that when I found her in Kanter's, I should have 
 gone and sworn out a warrant for her under some pretext, 
 and have had her arrested, or lied to her that I would 
 never give her away, that I would keep her secret until 
 we had time, you and I, to get her, but I could not do 
 that, as my mind was bent on providing for her after we 
 had rescued her, as I felt confident we would, and now I 
 feel all is lost, and when we bury her my heart will be in 
 the same grave." With that he burst into tears. "Robert, 
 she sang her swan song to me that night — I forgot to men- 
 tion it to you." 
 
 "Matt, don't blame yourself for anything. I, her 
 brother, cannot see that you were a particle to blame, and 
 what has happened could not have been foreseen. I don't 
 think, however, you should be permitted to bear so much 
 expense. You know I can pay you." 
 
 "Now, Bob," impatiently rejoined Matt, "drop that 
 subject ; and, if you want to remain my friend, never men- 
 tion it again. Let us talk about laying her at rest." 
 
 "Well what do you suggest?" 
 
 * ' That you consult your parents as to the burial lot, and 
 tell them at the same time that I own more space than ever 
 we'll require, and that I would like to share it with them 
 so that we can take care of the plot where all we love may 
 lie together." 
 
 "When do you think the funeral should take place, 
 Matt?" 
 
 "Tomorrow. There's no time to lose. She's now been 
 dead a long time, and will probably fail rapidly. So make 
 arrangements for two o'clock tomorrow. The mill, I un- 
 derstand, is going to close." 
 
 The funeral of Martha Hill was an imposing event. 
 
HOME AT LAST 251 
 
 The respect all had for the bereaved family and the painful 
 circumstances of her mysterious disappearance and unac- 
 countable absence aroused the sympathy of all the country 
 round. People flocked to the church, where the customary 
 services for the dead were observed. Those who had gar- 
 dens depleted their stock to bury her casket in flowers. 
 
 The graveyard being a mile from the church, six stalwart 
 men employees of the mill, fellow-workmen of her brother, 
 were assigned to carry the casket. Eight girls, former mem- 
 bers of the choir, dressed in white, acted as pall-bearers and 
 walked beside the coffin. The sorrowing friends, led by the 
 aged parents, then Robert Hill and one of his sisters, fol- 
 lowed by the younger members of the family, then Matthew 
 Howard and his sister Eachel, dressed in deep black. Im- 
 mediately behind them the friends and neighbors, men and 
 their wives in pairs. Then came the men from the mill, each 
 bearing on his breast a badge with the inscription, 
 
 IN MEMORIAM 
 
 For 
 
 MARTHA HILL 
 
 Whose Loss We All Mourn. 
 
 Then followed a promiscuous crowd of men and women, 
 boys and girls. At the end of the procession came a hayrack 
 loaded with flowers. The services at the grave were brief; 
 tears were shed and sobs heard. Matthew Howard being in 
 great distress, the hearts of his neighbors went out to him, 
 as nearly all knew the terrible loss he had sustained. 
 
 Robert Hill stood immutable as a rock. He had no tears 
 to shed, he looked beyond the grave, he had an obligation 
 to fill, a duty to perform. The last rites concluded, the 
 gravediggers grasped their shovels, and filled the grave, in 
 which lay the mortal remains of MARTHA HILL. 
 
252 AN EXPLANATION 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 AN EXPLANATION. 
 
 The night of the day on which the funeral of Martha 
 Hill took place, Howard and her brother had a conference 
 as to how to explain their knowledge of her whereabouts at 
 the time of her death, and also as to what information they 
 had as to where she was during her absence of four years 
 and her reason for not communicating with them. 
 
 "You leave it to me, Robert. You know I have already 
 mentioned to you about my getting a communication inform- 
 ing me of a sick woman having a memorandum on her per- 
 son with my name and address, and the effect such informa- 
 tion had on me. That's a fairly plausible story, and there 
 is none likely to question it, especially those who know of 
 the bond of sympathy and love that existed between us. 
 As to her doings during her long absence, that is a blank 
 which I intend to account for in this way: immediately 
 after her arrival in Chicago she either met an accident 
 that destroyed her mentality, or it was one of those cases, 
 of which there are many, where persons through some great 
 grief or unaccountable cause lose their memory and forget 
 both their name or the place they came from. You remem- 
 ber the question I put to the doctor in reference to that 
 subject and the answer he gave me. A to her being brought 
 to the hospital, I intend to inform those who seek informa- 
 tion that she was brought there by the members of a very 
 poor family who, some weeks before, had taken her in for 
 charity sake, believing her to be some harmless imbecile, 
 
AN EXPLANATION 253 
 
 homeless and friendless, and that during the time she was 
 with them, though cleanly and industrious, her mind was 
 a blank as to her real name or former place of abode." 
 
 "It pains me much, Matthew, for you to have to tell 
 such a story about my sister, but we cannot tell the truth. 
 It would kill my father and mother, and would be a scandal 
 of such proportions that I am afraid we would all have to 
 
 leave B . The question of her persecution would never 
 
 offset the facts in the minds of the people here — they 
 wouldn't believe such things possible." 
 
 ''You never mind, Robert. You leave it to me. The 
 men around the mill, realizing your distress, are not 
 likely to pester you with questions, and, ere this time to- 
 morrow night, I will have satisfied the curiosity of many 
 people, who in turn will tell the story to others, and put 
 such interpretation on it as their minds will suggest, none 
 of which will have the remotest semblance of the facts in the 
 case. The first to whom I will have to explain matters will 
 be your father and mother, who, I know, are the most 
 anxious to hear from me. I will be over first thing in the 
 morning. You can tell them tonight of my coming so go 
 home and rest." 
 
 "Yes, I need to. I am fairly worn out, and intend to 
 report for work in the morning." 
 
 Matthew Howard arrived at the Hill cottage early on 
 the morning after the funeral, and told a concise and plausi- 
 ble story to the old people, who listened with breathless 
 interest. 
 
 "My poor child!" was all the mother could exclaim, 
 while tears ran down the father's cheeks. The Rev. Mr. 
 Peterson came in during the recital, and innocently sub- 
 stantiated Howard's narrative, by saying he had read of 
 
254 AN EXPLANATION 
 
 cases of a similar character where persons had forgotten 
 their identity. 
 
 During the day Matthew Howard had many inquirers, 
 to all of whom he told a story similar to that he had told 
 Martha's parents. None there were who doubted his word. 
 Why should they? What possible reason could he have to 
 deceive her relatives and friends? He was a man of char- 
 acter and probity, whom to know was to respect. Ere 
 twenty-four hours had passed the whole community was 
 enlightened as to the facts as far as they could be learned. 
 And as the whole people of the city and surrounding coun- 
 try respected both the families of the Hills and Howards as 
 old and respected citizens of the community, and as there 
 was no villain in the plot to create suspicion as to the 
 veracity of Matt Howard's statement, it was unanimously 
 accepted as the truth, and as the old proverb says: "Ere 
 nine days were over it ceased to be a wonder." 
 
 Hill took his place in the mill the next morning. His 
 mates, knowing his distress, never broached the subject. 
 They knew, or thought they knew, that he had little informa- 
 tion to disclose, so refrained from talking over a subject 
 that all knew must be painful to him. At the conclusion of 
 the day's work, when the men got home Matt Howard's 
 story was there in advance of them. If married men, their 
 wives or daughters awaited impatiently their coming to 
 inquire from them if they had any further particulars and 
 to unburden themselves of the gossip they had heard dur- 
 ing the day and to tell the Howard version of the sad and 
 mysterious affair. So that ever after Robert Hill was spared 
 the trouble of explaining anything that he might know of 
 the distressing circumstances. 
 
 Robert Hill tried to comfort his parents as best he 
 could. He spoke freely of finding their daughter, his sister. 
 
AN EXPLANATION 255 
 
 "We should be thankful, mother, we know where she 
 is. All doubt has now ceased. We believed her dead, and 
 so she was in thought, now we know in fact, so why 
 mourn ? ' ' 
 
 At the mill he attended his work, but the geniality of his 
 disposition, so well known, seemed to have left him. He 
 had little to say to any of them, only such as was necessary 
 in their daily intercourse. From the mill to his home, and 
 from his home to the mill, was his daily route. He seldom 
 spoke to any one he met on the way. He invariably walked 
 with his head down, as a man would who had something 
 serious on his mind. He failed in his attendance at church 
 and was admonished by the pastor, to whom he gave a 
 respectful but unsatisfactory reason for his absence. At 
 length he shunned the Howard family, to the great discom- 
 fiture of Rachel Howard, who inquired of her brother. 
 
 "What's to do with Mr. Hill; he never comes around 
 now ? ' ' 
 
 "I don't know," was her brother's answer, "unless he 
 wishes to give his whole time and attention to his parents." 
 
 "He don't even go to church," she said. "I haven't 
 seen him for weeks." 
 
 "I can't understand," said Matt, "but I am going over 
 this evening to see him." 
 
 On Matthew Howard's arrival at the home of his 
 friend's parents, after the customary salutation, he inquired 
 for Bob. "He's in the workshop," replied his mother. 
 Howard went to the little carpenter's shop where Hill senior 
 had arranged to do jobs at home before his illness. Howard 
 entered unheard or unannounced. He noticed Hill adjust- 
 ing a noose on a piece of sash cord, 
 
 "What are you doing, Bob?" was his inquiry. 
 
256 AN EXPLANATION 
 
 "Nothing; just passing the time." He placed the piece 
 of sash cord he had been toying with hastily in a drawer. 
 
 "What have we done, Bob, to you that you've shaken 
 us entirely? Rachel thinks I am somewhat responsible for 
 you're not coming around." 
 
 "Is that so?" he said, smiling. "I must go then and 
 disabuse her mind. The facts are, Matt, I don't go any' 
 where except to my work and back. I suppose it will wear 
 off in time, but for the present I like to stay at home." 
 
 "Now, Bob, the facts are you're becoming melancholy 
 and you know that's a very dangerous malady. A couple 
 of weeks after we brought Martha home it was excusable, 
 but you have no justification in shaking your old friends. 
 I feel that I am nearly as big a sufferer as you, but I have 
 to stand it." 
 
 "Yes, Matt, you have done your full duty as well 
 as any friend could be expected to do, but I have mine to 
 do yet." His teeth clenched and there was a look on his 
 countenance that alarmed his friend. 
 
 "Come, come, Bob, be reasonable. We cannot bring 
 back the past. Let us renew the old time friendship." 
 
 "Did we ever cease to be friends, Matt?" 
 
 "No, but come around to the store. Rachel would like 
 to see you, and so would all the rest of my people." 
 
 "I will drop in some evening and square myself with 
 them. Matt, but I am in no mind at present to gossip." 
 
 Hill kept his word and spent an evening in the Howard 
 store. All present welcomed him. Rachel was particularly 
 pleased to see him enter the now very large establishment. 
 
 "Robert," she said, looking into his face. "We were 
 wondering what had become of you, I have been over to 
 your house a number of times, but never could see you. I 
 hope none of us have done anything to offend you?" 
 
AN EXPLANATION 257 
 
 "No, Rachel, the old friendship exists as strong as ever, 
 but I have stayed around the house to comfort the old people, 
 and when I have been out I have preferred to be alone. 
 Don't blame me, I can't help it." 
 
 There was another considerable lapse before Hill visited 
 the Howards again. 
 
 Rachel determined to visit the Hills whenever her time 
 as cashier in her brother's extensive establishmnet would 
 permit. She had also assumed the function of taking care 
 of Martha's grave, which was in close proximity of that of 
 her father and mother. On the occasion of one of her 
 visits she saw Robert Hill sitting on an adjacent tomb, cry- 
 ing. She went and sat by his side and tried to comfort him. 
 She felt she had a right to. She hoped to fill Martha's place, 
 to be more than sister to him. He looked longingly to her 
 when she was seated by his side. 
 
 "It is so good of you, Rachel, to take care of Martha's 
 grave." 
 
 "You know, Robert, she was my nearest and dearest 
 friend. We were children together, and girls together, 
 shared one another's confidence and built our hopes in the 
 future, but God willed it otherwise." She wiped her eyes. 
 
 At her allusion to God's will, Robert Hill's mind re- 
 verted to Ike Rosenthal and Madam Blomgarten. 
 
 "I must be going," he said, rising and abruptly walk- 
 ing away. 
 
 Rachel looked after him in alarm. Her womanly feel- 
 ing was discomforted by his abrupt departure, but her love 
 for him, coupled with her Christian charity, could bear him 
 no ill will. She told her brother on her return home of his 
 strange conduct. 
 
 "I am very anxious about him," said Matt, "but he's 
 too stubborn to take any advice." 
 
258 AN EXPLANATION 
 
 On Matthew Howard going to his bank next day the 
 president, seeing him at the receiver's window, shouted: 
 
 "Matt, come in; I want to talk to you!" 
 
 When Howard entered the private office, the bank presi- 
 dent told him to close the door and take a seat. 
 
 "What I wanted to talk to you about was your friend 
 Mr. Hill. I have noticed of late he is very peculiar. I pass 
 him on the street sometimes and he hardly notices me. I 
 chided him on one occasion. He only smiled when I charged 
 him with passing me without even returning my nod. He 
 excused himself by saying he hadn't seen me. Mr. Robin- 
 son also has been talking to me about him, not complaining 
 that Bob doesn't attend to business, but he tells me that 
 sometimes he spends hours in the mill putting the machinery 
 in order and fixing things up when he should be at home. 
 He has also added some valuable improvements to the plant. 
 Robinson's anxiety is that he may break down. Of course 
 he knows Bob's trouble, and made a proposition to him the 
 other day to take a month's vacation and draw his month's 
 salary in advance. Hill thanked him, and said he was better 
 at home, and that as he was going to install some improve- 
 ments in the machinery he had no time.. Robinson told him 
 to let it wait until he came back. But Hill turned the propo- 
 sition down, the salary suggestion cutting no figuse, as 
 Robert has a snug little amount here to his credit. ' ' 
 
 "I don't see where we can do anything for him," said 
 Howard, "I have talked to him, but to no good. What I 
 fear is that he has a dose of melancholy that he may not 
 get over." 
 
 Hill called at the house one evening and he seemed 
 much more cheerful. He even joked with Rachel, to her 
 great surprise. Matt Howard came to where his sister and 
 Hill were talking. 
 
AN EXPLANATION 259 
 
 "Matt, I am going to Chicago on Saturday to see a 
 sculptor about a stone to put on our burial lot — or yours, 
 to be more specific." 
 
 ''That'll do, Bob, about it being mine. That section has 
 already been deeded to your father and mother. I have 
 deposited the deed in the bank, to their credit, so neither 
 you nor I have any more claim to it. But why can't you 
 put off your visit to some day during the week when I could 
 go with you?" 
 
 "No, I must go Saturday afternoon, while we are closed 
 down. ' ' 
 
 "You needn't trouble yourself about whether the mill 
 is closed down Saturday or not. If you go some week day 
 the old mill will be there when you come back." 
 
 "Well, Matthew, I have made arrangements to go on 
 Saturday." 
 
 "Then if that's the case I will have to excuse you." 
 
 When Howard went to his bank the following day the 
 president told him: 
 
 "Your friend Hill was here yesterday at noon. He 
 peemed to me to be more sociable. He told me he was going 
 to Chicago to arrange for a monument — I suppose to put 
 over his sister's grave. He drew a thousand dollars, so he 
 must be going to do something handsome." 
 
 Hill went to Chicago for a number of consecutive Satur- 
 day afternoons, always on the same plea of seeing to the 
 construction and lettering on the projected monument, until 
 the men in the mill jokingly said to him one day, "Bob, we 
 begin to believe you must have a girl in Chicago." 
 
 Hill shook his head and said, ' ' No fear. ' ' 
 
260 A TRAGEDY 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 A TRAGEDY. 
 
 Madam Blomgarten 's house was fully illuminated one 
 Saturday evening, when a tall, robust man climbed the mar- 
 ble steps leading to the parlor floor. The colored door- 
 keeper, hearing the footsteps ascending, admitted him. On 
 reaching the parlor, he observed a number of young people 
 dancing to the music of a piano, and there were laughter 
 and mirth. Small groups of men and stylishly-dressed 
 women sat at tables drinking. Standing at the parlor door, 
 he seemed either reluctant to enter, or abashed to mingle 
 in company to which he seemed a total stranger. Madam 
 Blomgarten, from her point of vantage, recognizing his 
 dilemma, left her seat, and approaching invited him in. 
 
 "You need not feel strange," she said, "I presume you 
 were never here before?" 
 
 "No, ma'am." 
 
 ' ' Then come in and make yourself at home. Would you 
 like me to introduce you to one of my boarders?" 
 
 "I have no objection." 
 
 "Then come along." Looking around the fairly- 
 crowded parlor, she caught the eye of a young girl not to 
 exceed the age of 20 years, beckoning to her, who came trip- 
 ping forward. 
 
 "Lucretia, conduct this gentleman to a seat." 
 
 Lucretia smiled, and offered her hand to the stranger 
 as a token of good fellowship. She then conducted him to 
 a remote end of the parlor and, providing a chair for his 
 
A TRAGEDY 261 
 
 convenience, with his back to those present, beckoned him 
 to sit down, she taking a seat opposite to him. Noticing 
 either his shyness or awkwardness in such company, she 
 ventured an opinion. 
 
 "You seem to be a stranger in these parts?" 
 
 "Yes, Miss. I am from the far west, and never was in 
 so swell a ranch as this before," looking around. 
 
 "This is one of the best houses in the city and you need 
 have no anxiety. Madam Blomgarten caters only to the 
 best society." 
 
 At the mention of the name the man seemed interested. 
 
 "Which is she?" 
 
 "The lady that introduced us, that stout woman." 
 
 "Indeed! She seems a very nice person." 
 
 "Yes, she's all business." 
 
 The stranger turned and noticed a waiter at his side, 
 standing at attention. 
 
 "I suppose it is expected of the gentlemen who come 
 here to treat you girls?" 
 
 "Yes, you innocent!" smiling on him. 
 
 "Well, you order what you would like." 
 
 "They have nothing here but bottled goods — beer and 
 champagne are the ones in general use. Do you think we 
 could afford a bottle of fizz?" looking archly at him. 
 
 "Nothing is too good for you. Miss, while you are with 
 me. You order it." 
 
 "Tom, bring us a bottle of white seal," addressing the 
 waiter. 
 
 The wine was brought and opened, the stranger placing 
 his hand in his breast pocket and extracting a roll of bills 
 of such proportions as to at once to place him high in the 
 estimation of his young lady friend. 
 
262 A TRAGEDY 
 
 Tendering a twenty-dollar bill as payment for the wine, 
 the waiter brought his change. The gentleman took all from 
 the extended tray on which the money was, except fifty 
 cents, at the same time raising the back of his hand to the 
 waiter, signifying that what remained on the tray was for 
 him, another act which elevated him not only in the estima- 
 tion of Lucretia, but also of the waiter, who thanked him. 
 Both surmised he was "the goods" and well worth warming 
 up to. 
 
 The wine glasses having been filled, she raised hers, 
 and, reaching across the table, touched hers to his, smiling. 
 
 "So you tell me you're from the far west?" she in- 
 quired. 
 
 "Yes, Nevada." 
 
 "What do you do out there?" 
 
 "I am a miner." 
 
 "You own a gold mine, I suppose?" smiling. 
 
 "Well, there is some gold, and some silver." 
 
 "Do you come often to Chicago?" 
 
 "No, this is my first visit. You have some city here." 
 
 "Yes," laughing, "you had better be careful or you'll 
 get lost." She filled the empty glasses and they both drank. 
 
 "I suppose you're a family man?" looking at him, 
 smiling. 
 
 "No, I haven't the good fortune." 
 
 "Then you have a girl there?" 
 
 "Women are very scarce in our parts." 
 
 "How would you like to take me with you when you 
 go back?" smiling. 
 
 "I would have to consider a project of that magnitude," 
 laughing. "I know how to manage a mine, but how to 
 handle a woman is a proposition in which I have had little 
 experience." 
 
A TRAGEDY 263 
 
 "You would find me very tractable and accommodating. 
 I'm sure I would please you." 
 
 ''Of that I have no doubt, but we'll have to get better 
 acquainted." 
 
 Just then the waiter came and whispered into her ear 
 that she was wanted at the front. 
 
 "Who is it?" The waiter gave her a name. "You tell 
 him I am engaged, and that there is no use of him waiting 
 for me." 
 
 Turning to her friend of recent acquaintance, she in- 
 quired, "You're going to stay all night?" 
 
 "Probably so; is this a safe place?" 
 
 "You're just as safe here as you would be in your bank, 
 or in your church. Madam Blomgarten's place is well known 
 for its security and respectability. Many of the best people 
 in Chicago come here." 
 
 "Indeed! Well let us finish this bottle, and have an- 
 other." 
 
 "I'll go you," laughing. 
 
 On the second bottle being brought and drunk, Miss 
 Lucretia became somewhat more kittenish, and moved her 
 seat beside that of the stranger. 
 
 "Remember," says she, "I am very jealous, and during 
 your stay in Chicago, whether you take me back to Nevada 
 or not, I will not want you to be fooling with any other 
 girl." 
 
 The man laughed. "Lucretia — I believe that's your 
 name — you need have no fear. I begin to believe you're 
 all right." 
 
 "I guess you'll find me so," she said, confidently, "but 
 I'm beginning to get stewed." 
 
 The second bottle being emptied, the man asked, "Will 
 I order some more wine ? ' ' 
 
264 A TRAGEDY 
 
 "No, we'll have a bottle of beer, and then we'll retire." 
 Before the beer was half consumed, Miss Lucretia showed 
 symptoms of inebriation. So rising from her se^t, the 
 Nevadian followed her. As they passed Madam Blomgarten, 
 that lady smiled patronizingly on the stranger, of whom she 
 had heard good reports from the waiter. As Lucretia toiled 
 up the first flight of stairs, she remarked on reaching the 
 landing, "We have to go up another flight. I am afraid 
 you'll have to carry me," she said, jokingly. 
 
 "Who occupies those rooms?" he said, casually. 
 
 "Some of the girls, and that's the madam's room," 
 pointing to one just at the head of the stairs. 
 
 "I suppose she has a swell room," he remarked. 
 
 "No better than I have," opening the door, while she 
 recovered her breath. 
 
 The man from Nevada looked in, observing an old- 
 fashioned four-post bed, a table, chairs, lounge, and what 
 not. This is not very swell," he remarked, viewing the room 
 with a critical eye, and taking in the position of the win- 
 dows, which he noticed faced the adjoining building. On 
 reaching Lucretia 's room, she sat down on the lounge, 
 panting. "You made me drink too much wine," she said, 
 
 "Not I," he replied, smiling at her as he sat down be- 
 side her, and took her in his arms. 
 
 "You mustn't be too gay," she said, laughing up into 
 his face, ' ' and you must treat me right. ' ' This allusion was 
 to the financial question, which was agreeably settled. 
 
 Next morning, when Lucretia awoke, she found her 
 friend of the night before had already departed. 
 
 The following Saturday evening, about 9 o'clock, the 
 gentleman from Nevada peered into the parlor, where the 
 guests were not too numerous. At that hour Lucretia, notic- 
 ing his entrance, walked ahead of him to the rear of the 
 
A TRAGEDY 265 
 
 parlor, and stood at the table until he came and took a seat. 
 She gave him one of her most bewitching smiles. 
 
 ' ' I have a crow to pick with you ! ' * she said. ' ' Why 
 did you give me the slip Sunday morning last, without bid- 
 ding me good morning? You weren't vexed at me, were 
 you?" 
 
 "No, girl, but why should I disturb you? You were 
 sleeping the sleep of the innocent when I left." 
 
 "Cut that out now! I know you are only joshing me." 
 "You know, Lucretia — I believe that's your name — " 
 "Or cognomen," she said, laughing. 
 "In our part of the country we are early risers. We 
 go to bed when the sun sets, and get up when it rises. I 
 understand you in Chicago here go to bed when the sun 
 rises, and get up by the light of the moon." 
 
 ' ' That 's pretty clever of you, but I 'm dry. I haven 't 
 had a drink tonight." 
 
 "Bring us a bottle," he said, turning to the waiter who 
 stood at his elbow. 
 
 "When are you going to take me to Nevada?" she 
 inquired. 
 
 "Why, what in the name of goodness would I do with 
 you in Nevada? Everybody has to work in my section, and 
 if I had you there I would have to put you down in one of 
 my mines with a pair of overalls on," laughing. 
 
 "Not on your life, Mr. Sharp. You would find me too 
 useful to you there to put me down in a mine, and if you 
 didn't want me I might find some rich old fogy that would 
 be glad to have me." 
 
 "Possibly so, but you see where I am there are no rich 
 old fogies or well-to-do young fools but myself." 
 
 The waiter arrived with the bottle, the cork flying up 
 to the ceiling. He filled the glasses. 
 
266 A TRAGEDY 
 
 "That's the stuff to put life into you," she said, as she 
 emptied her glass and then smacked her lips. 
 
 The man from Nevada pulled out his roll of bills and 
 gave one to the waiter. 
 
 Lucretia looked on his pile with unfeigned admiration. 
 
 "Where do you get it?" she asked. 
 
 "You will see, if I take you out to Nevada." 
 
 "Then see that you do." 
 
 An hour was passed in by-talk and the consumption of 
 the second bottle of champagne, when Lucretia rose 
 abruptly. You will have to excuse me," she said. 
 
 "No, sit down." 
 
 "I will be back in a few minutes," she said, smiling 
 and chucking him under the chin as she passed him. 
 
 The man from Nevada watched her as she went toward 
 the front of the parlor, where he saw her in conversation 
 with an extravagantly dressed fellow. He noticed some irri- 
 tation between them, after which Lucretia left the fellow 
 abruptly, returned and took her seat by her Nevada friend. 
 
 "You didn't think I was going to leave you, did you?" 
 
 "I didn't know." 
 
 "No danger. I'm going to stick to you as close as a 
 porous plaster would stick on your broad back. Fill my 
 glass. ' ' 
 
 "I'm afraid you're going to get full again," he said. 
 
 "What's the odds, as long as we're happy?" 
 
 When the second bottle of champagne was drunk, a 
 bottle of beer was ordered. After it was about consumed, 
 she yawned. 
 
 "My, but I'm tired! Let us retire." 
 
 "I see the madam can sit it out," he whispered to her 
 as they passed the proprietress, who was giving strict at- 
 tention to business. 
 
A TRAGEDY 267 
 
 * ' Easy for her. She stays in bed nearly all day. DinaJi 
 — that's the colored woman — brings her a cup of coffee to 
 her bedside every morning about 7 o'clock, and if she's 
 awake she drinks it, and then turns over her two hundred 
 and fifty pounds of fat, and goes to sleep again." 
 
 When Lucretia had disrobed, she turned to her partner. 
 *'Now don't you run away, and leave me in the morning." 
 
 "Why, do you think I can loll around in the bed all 
 day like your mistress?" 
 
 "Well, you wake me up then." 
 
 "No, I won't promise." 
 
 "Then you're mean." 
 
 "When Lucretia awoke about ten in the morning, she 
 found herself alone, but consoled herself with the fairly 
 sized bill she had. Turning over, she slept until the dinner 
 bell aroused her from her slumbers. 
 
 The following Saturday night was a gala one in the house 
 of Blomgarten. The madam was all smiles as the man from 
 Nevada passed her. Lucretia was in earnest conversation 
 with a young fop when he went toward the rear end of the 
 room, where he was seated on two former visits. Lucretia 
 forsook the young gentleman she had been talking to, and 
 followed her mining friend from the west. When she 
 reached him she said: 
 
 "I had about made up my mind never to speak to you 
 again. ' ' 
 
 "Why that, Lucretia?" 
 
 "I told you before you left on Sunday morning to be 
 sure and wake me, didn't I?" 
 
 "Yes, but it would be cruel to disturb you, you look 
 so innocent when you're asleep," laughing. 
 
 "There, you're joshing me again." 
 
 "No, I'm sincere. Let us drink," He nodded to the 
 
268 A TRAGEDY 
 
 waiter, who, without inquiring his wants, brought in a bottle 
 of champagne. The waiter, having heard the rumor that 
 Lucretia had a wealthy miner on her staff, a man of untold 
 wealth, and judging from the liberal tips he had received, 
 he was prepared to substantiate the rumor, served the re- 
 freshments that he knew were to the taste of Miss Lucretia 
 and the profit of his illustrious employer. 
 
 "Well, I forgive you this time," said the young lady, 
 "but don"t let it happen again." 
 
 "You seem very busy here this evening," said the 
 Nevada man, looking around at the crowded parlors. 
 
 "Yes," said the girl, "but many of the young fops 
 that are here tonight will be disappointed, as every girl in 
 the house is engaged. Many of them are up in their rooms 
 already and won't be down again tonight. You see the old 
 swells hardly ever come into the parlor. They telephone 
 over to their lady friends when they are coming, and, know- 
 ing their rooms, go right upstairs. Those young fools," 
 whispering to him, "will buy drinks for those still here, 
 and be sent home or to another house as soon as they find 
 they've been hoaxed. Look at the madam jollying them 
 two swells now," remarked Lucretia. "She's telling them 
 to wait around. They're good spenders." 
 
 "Then you're probably left on the shelf tonight," said 
 the Nevada man, laughing. 
 
 "Not on your tin-type. It'll be a cold day when Lucre- 
 tia gets left. Did you notice that young swell I was talking 
 to when you came in?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, I had to turn that fellow down when I saw j'ou 
 coming. I told himi you were my 'steady,' so he would have 
 to excuse me; besides, Mr. Sharp, I could have pick and 
 choice here." 
 
A TRAGEDY 269 
 
 "I feel glad you are in such demand. I don't see why 
 you want to go to Nevada, when you're so popular here." 
 
 "Rats! Do you think any of us women care for those 
 fellows? It's their dough we're after." 
 
 "I suppose that's the value you put on me too?" 
 smiling. 
 
 "You're somewhat different. I like your size, your 
 vigor and your generous disposition. I would give up the 
 whole bunch for a man like you." 
 
 "I see. I'll have to buy another bottle," said the man, 
 laughing. 
 
 "I don't care whether you do or not," pouting. 
 
 "Bring us another bottle," he said to the waiter. 
 
 The crowd in the parlor began to thin out, the women 
 leaving gradually, until but two or three were left. Ere the 
 second bottle of champagne was consumed, Lucretia and the 
 madam were the only two of their sex remaining. 
 
 "Let us retire," said Lucretia. "You see the madam 
 is nearly piped in the absence of consumers. She's taken 
 more than she's used to." 
 
 At this moment the madam arose, her gait being un- 
 steady. 
 
 "Come," said Lucretia, "let us go." 
 
 "No, I am going to have another bottle of champagne." 
 
 "I don't think I can drink any more," protested Lu- 
 cretia, "I'm as full as a tick." 
 
 "Bring a bottle," was his peremptory order to the 
 waiter, who hastened to obey with alacrity. 
 
 The Nevada man's vigorous constitution seemed to en- 
 able him to withstand the drink. Not so Lucretia, whose 
 vacant gaze and limp form on her chair from which she was 
 in danger of falling showed she was in an advanced state 
 of intoxication. 
 
270 A TRAGEDY 
 
 "I'm going to bed," she exclaimed, in a maudlin voice. 
 "You can stay." 
 
 It was about 3:30 o'clock in the morning, when a 
 stealthy step might be heard descending from the third 
 floor. The party halted and listened. All was silent as 
 the grave, except for the snoring of some of the inmates 
 fast asleep in the adjoining rooms. After a few seconds, 
 guided by the dim light from a bracket lamp that projected 
 from the wall, the figure moved toward the room where 
 Madam Blomgarten slept. He laid his hand on the knob 
 of the door, turned it, the door opened, it creaked on its 
 hinges. He paused to listen. All being quiet, he entered 
 the room and approached the bed on which Madam Blom- 
 garten lay. She was prone on her back. The man, whoever 
 he was, paused for a moment. Just as a tiger would act 
 before springing on his prey, he suddenly wound his giant 
 hands around the madam's neck. She opened her eyes with 
 a start, and attempted to scream. He tightened his grip so 
 that but a gurgle could be heard. She struggled in the bed. 
 He placed his knee on her abdomen. He saw her tongue pro- 
 trude. He eased his pressure on her throat for a moment. 
 She looked appealingly into his face. 
 
 "You remember Martha Hill!" he hissed between his 
 teeth. "You worse than horlot! If you don't, then you 
 remember Clementina Montague! Damn you!" 
 
 She again attempted to scream. He tightened his grip 
 on her throat. "Hell awaits you!" he hissed into her ear. 
 "Go you, and be eternally damned!" He increased the 
 pressure on her throat until she ceased to struggle, her eyes 
 staring wildly, her tongue protruding through her swollen 
 lips. He paused for a tim!,e, but never relinquished his hold 
 on her throat. At last, seemingly satisfied she was dead, he 
 took a rope from his pocket on which there was a noose 
 
A TRAGEDY 271 
 
 and, placing it around her throat, pulled it with all his 
 strength, until it began to eat into the flesh. Then, standing 
 on the bed, he fastened it to the top of the post. He tried 
 to lift the body to a standing position. In this he failed. 
 So he had to content himself by rolling the body from the 
 bed until the feet reached the floor in a half recumbent 
 position. Leaving the room, he walked down the flight of 
 stairs till he reached the door where the night watch, a 
 colored man, was sleeping in his chair. He touched the man 
 on the shoulder, who, rising and wiping his eyes, opened the 
 door. The man then descended the marble steps, and hastily 
 walked away. 
 
 That morning about 7 :30 o 'clock, according to custom, 
 Dinah opened the madam's door, tray in hand. The sight 
 she saw made the blood stand still in her veins. 
 
 "Murder! Murder!" she screamed, as the tray and 
 all its contents fell to the floor with a crash. 
 * ' Murder ! Murder ! ' ' 
 
 The roomers jumped from their beds in alarm. Men 
 could be seen running down the stairs, some with their shoes 
 in their hands, others with little but their pants on. Women 
 in adjoining rooms, pale with fright, gazed into the room and 
 shrieked with terror. Some of the men present made for 
 the back entrance, dressing themselves as they ran. An 
 elderly gray-whiskered man, rushing with his coat and vest 
 on his arm, and but one shoe on, met the terrified colored 
 man in the passage. "What's up!" he shouted. "I don't 
 know," said the fleeing man, as he dashed down the marble 
 steps, and found an adjacent passage in which he lingered 
 to put on his clothes. Mugsy, who was soon on the scene, 
 was accosted by a very stout man, who had not even time 
 to put his undershirt on. 
 
272 A TRAGEDY 
 
 "Miigsy!" he exelaim,ed, "for God's sake get me out 
 of here, and there's a hundred for you." 
 
 "What's up?" asked one of a little group that had 
 already congregated around the door. "Is the place on 
 fire?" 
 
 "Yes!" exclaimed a retreating figure. 
 
 "Fire! Fire!" shouted the crowd. Policemen came 
 running from all directions, A sergeant, followed by some 
 of his men, rushed up the steps, and into the house. 
 
 "Up stairs!" shouted the colored man. Just then the 
 gongs of the fire apparatus could be heard, and the clatter 
 of horses' hoofs. The fire patrol was first on the scene. 
 The men jumped off, some with tarpaulins on their shoul- 
 ders, others with fire extinguishers. 
 
 The sergeant of police, having reached the room in 
 which the body hung, seeing what the trouble was, shouted 
 orders. "See to the doors back and front, let no one in or 
 out!" He nodded to the fireman in charge. 
 
 "Captain," he said, "this is our job. You can call 
 your men off." 
 
 Mugsy and the colored man, the only two men present, 
 were immediately placed under arrest. The others had 
 escaped, many leaving part of their raiment behind them. 
 
THE THIRD DEGREE 273 
 
 CHAPTER XXXni. 
 THE THIRD DEGREE. 
 
 On the arrival of a superior officer from the police 
 department, he gave orders to take all inmates to head- 
 quarters, and leave men in charge of the place to await 
 further instructions. 
 
 The girls were ordered to dress and get ready to leave. 
 Some of them kicked vigorously, protesting that they were 
 too sick ; others went back to bed and covered themselves 
 up in hopes of escaping observation. Policemen searched 
 the house from basement to garret. Where they found a 
 damsel in bed they rudely dragged the clothes off and told 
 her to get up and dress. Many protested, nagging the offi- 
 cers, who paid no attention, but said: 
 
 *'If you don't put your clothes on we will take you as 
 you are." 
 
 The coroner had arrived, who took a perfunctory view 
 of the remains, and then told the officers in charge that one 
 of his deputies would hold an inquest in the afternoon. 
 
 A special policeman, one of the ruling race who had 
 been long in the service, was placed in charge of the room. 
 
 Great crowds had gathered outside the house, blocking 
 the streets to await the pull which they surmised was going 
 to take place. The patrol wagons had trouble to get in 
 front of the house, the crowd was so dense. At length when 
 the wagons got in position, and the policemen took their 
 place on either side of the steps, after driving the onlookers 
 back. Mugsy was seen coming down the steps, followed by 
 
274 THE THIRD DEGREE 
 
 the doorkeeper, and then Dinah. Those created little inter- 
 est, until the women of the underworld began to show. Many 
 of those among the onlookers who knew them called their 
 names as they appeared, and addressed them jokingly. 
 Others jeered at them and laughed, as the police officers 
 hurried these along who Avere tardy or who wanted to stop 
 on the steps so as to see if there were any familiar faces in 
 the crowd. The officers had little patience with those, and, 
 giving them a push, cried: 
 
 "Come, move on there, step lively!" 
 "When the lady so accosted would turn to express her 
 indignation, the crowd would set up a roar, and some of 
 them would say: 
 
 "Reach him one, Seraphina — or Julia!" 
 "Give him hell!" another would shout, amid roars of 
 laughter, as the obstinate one was pushed into the waiting 
 wagon. 
 
 "When all were seated in the police patrol wagons, offi- 
 cers stood on the steps of each, of the vehicles, and when 
 orders were given to go ahead the crowd set up a yell. 
 Several of the girls, having recovered from their discomfit- 
 ure, waved their hands and smiled at their acquaintances, 
 or as if in derision of those who were gibing them. 
 
 After quietness was restored on the street, and in the 
 house, the police officer of long service on the force went 
 into the room where Sadie was strung up, and, with more 
 feeling than judgment, seeing the very uncomfortable posi- 
 tion the corpse was placed in, removed the rope from the 
 top of the bed post, and let the body fall flat on the floor. 
 He thought for a moment of lifting her on the bed, but that 
 was too heavy an undertaking. So he let her lie where she 
 fell. The sergeant on his rounds, in visiting the room, saw 
 
THE THIRD DEGREE 275 
 
 ■what his subordinate had done, and exclaimed, "Who in 
 
 h has interfered with the corpse ! ' ' 
 
 "Sure, I have," said the veteran." 
 "Well, I'll be damned! What made you do that?" 
 "What harm? I didn't like to see the poor woman 
 lying so uncomfortable, and all I did was just to lay her 
 down. What harm can be in that?" 
 
 'You'll find out when the lieutenant or the coroner 
 comes." 
 
 "Well, I'll put her back then." 
 "No. Let her lie now!" as he took his leave. 
 The deputy coroner arrived early in the afternoon with 
 the regular profesional jurors he always had on his staff. 
 They Adewed the remains, and came to the conclusion she 
 was dead, and, without further investigation, in compliance 
 with a request from the police department, the coroner swore 
 his men in to uphold the constitution, etc., etc., and ad- 
 journed for two weeks ; giving permission to any one who 
 might want to go to the trouble to inter the remains, after 
 which he and his faithful six adjourned to a neighboring 
 saloon to get fresh ones. 
 
 At police headquarters an investigation was proceeding 
 to ascertain what the inmates of the house knew of the affair. 
 Dinah, the colored maid, was the first witness called. 
 She stated that on going to the room about 7 :30 in the 
 morning with a cup of coffee for the missus she saw her 
 lying close to the bed fastened to a rope hanging from the 
 bed post. 
 
 "What did you do then?" inquired the interviewer. 
 "I screamed murder! I was terribly frightened." 
 "You are the madam's maid, I understand?" 
 "Yes, sir, and have charge of the wine locker." 
 
276 THE THIRD DEGREE 
 
 "Do you know whether the windows looking into the 
 passage from your mistress' room are fastened at night?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Do any of the men or women around the place have 
 occasion to visit your mistress' room?" 
 
 "No, sir. I makes the missus' bed and tidies up her 
 room for her, but some of the girls, when they want change 
 early in the morning, may have to go in to see her if she's 
 in bed." 
 
 "Is she in the habit of locking her room at night?" 
 
 "No, as I go to her room nearly every morning." 
 
 "I suppose you knew some of the men who were in the 
 house that night?" 
 
 "Very few, sir, as I am supposed to know nobody." 
 
 "Well, you jog your memory, because we Avill have to 
 know who was in the house that evening, and the following 
 morning." 
 
 Dinah was allowed to retire. 
 
 "Call Mugsy in." 
 
 Mugsy, on appearing, was addressed in familiar tones. 
 
 "Well, Mugsy, what do you know about this affair?" 
 
 "I don't know anything. I went to bed about 2 A. M., 
 as there were few in the parlors, and slept until 7, when I 
 heard the colored woman scream. I jumped up and ran 
 toward the room where I found the missus just as the officers 
 saw her." 
 
 "Have you any suspicion of any one?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Do you know many personally who occupied the house 
 that night?" 
 
 "Yes, I know some." 
 
 "Have you any reason to believe that any of those 
 present had any ill feeling against the madam?" 
 
THE THIRD DEGREE 277 
 
 "No, sir. Nearly all those who were there that night 
 were there by appointment." 
 
 "You knew many of them, I presume?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "We will want you to give us their names." 
 
 "I wouldn't like to do that." 
 
 "We don't care as to your likes or dislikes. We'll 
 expect you to give us such information as will help us to 
 unravel the case. Our conjecture is that none but a man 
 committed this crime, and whoever he was must have known 
 the location and furniture in her room, as the rope with 
 which she was strangled was attached to the post of a bed, 
 and preparations for such action had to be made in ad- 
 vance." 
 
 Mugsy began to feel uneasy, as his inquisitor looked 
 steadily at him, but his courage never failed him. 
 
 "Before I give any names I will have to see my friend, 
 and probably consult a lawyer." 
 
 "Just as you wish, but I will hold you for the present." 
 
 Mugsy was led to a cell and locked up. 
 
 The colored doorkeeper was next in turn. 
 
 "What's your position in the house?" the investigator 
 inquired. 
 
 "Doorkeeper, sir." 
 
 ' ' You let the people in and out ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Your position then is such that it enables you to be- 
 come acquainted with many of the regular patrons of the 
 establishment?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Did you know many who spent the night there?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
278 THE THIRD DEGREE 
 
 ''Well, where were you when the first alarm was given 
 — that's when Dinah screemed murder?" 
 
 "I was asleep in my chair close by the door." 
 
 "What did you do then?" 
 
 "I opened the door for some of the gentlemen who 
 wanted to go out, and stayed at my post." 
 
 "Did you notice any of those who went past you as 
 being specially excited?" 
 
 "Dey was all excited, sir. Some of the gentlemen 
 nearly fell down the steps." 
 
 "Have you any suspicion of any one that you noticed 
 fleeing away?" 
 
 "No, sir; they were all gentlemen." 
 
 "Sergeant," addressing an officer present, "you take 
 this man and have him give you the names of those who 
 he knew were present," and, turning to the colored man, 
 he said: 
 
 "My man, see that you tell all you know. I might 
 inform you that you're suspected already." 
 
 "Good lord! Mr. Officer, how can you 'spect me?" 
 
 "Well, I've warned you." 
 
 The officer was in the act of leading him away, when 
 the lieutenant said, "Stop a minute, I want to ask you an- 
 other question. Between the hours of 2 A. M. and the time 
 of the alarm, how many people did you let out?" 
 
 "I forget exactly, but there were three or four." 
 
 "Did you recognize any of those that went out between 
 those hours I mentioned?" 
 
 "No, sir. I am not supposed to look over-particular 
 at them. They don't like it, so I just open the door when 
 I see them coming along the passage." 
 
 "That's all," beckoning to the officer to take him away. 
 
 The women were then called in turn. None of them 
 
THE THIRD DEGREE 279 
 
 could give any light on the affair. Some had retired early 
 in the evening, and heard nothing until awakened in the 
 morning by the screaming of the colored woman. 
 
 "You had a friend with you that night?" was the 
 query put to all. 
 
 ''Yes, sir." 
 
 "What was his name?" 
 
 Some refused flatly to "peach." All of those an officer 
 was told to take to a cell. 
 
 "I will give you a chance to cool off and refresh your 
 memory," he said to the aggressive ones. 
 
 Some who were timid made no bones of it, but gave 
 the name and standing of the party they had in tow. Others 
 protested they didn't know who the gentleman was. "He 
 was only a casual visitor." 
 
 The lieutenant's experience easily formed an opinion 
 of the truthfulness of their statements and passed them up 
 with but a few unimportant and sometimes irrelevant ques- 
 tions to the amusement of those present. 
 
 "When it came Lucretia's turn, the lieutenant, seeing 
 her youthful appearance, inquired, "How long have you 
 followed the calling you are in now?" 
 
 "About four years," in a confident tone. 
 
 "You must have commenced early?" said the lieutenant. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "You had a friend that night?" 
 
 "Yes." She seemed determined to speak in mono- 
 sylables. 
 
 "Do you know his name?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Well, what do you know about him?" 
 
 "That he was a thorough gentleman." 
 
 "I suppose he was liberal with you?" 
 
280 THE THIRD DEGREE 
 
 "Yes, he was all right." 
 
 "Do you know where he lives?" 
 
 "Yes, Nevada." 
 
 "How do you know he was from Nevada?" 
 
 "He told me so. He owns a gold mine out there. " This 
 she said with a degree of pride. 
 
 "What leads you to believe he owned a gold mine?" 
 
 "Because he told me so, and had lots of money." 
 
 "Did you see his wad?" 
 
 "Yes, he had a roll of big bills, enough to stop a truck 
 with." 
 
 "And you let him get away with it?" 
 
 "I'm no thief," indignantly. 
 
 "Well, you got some of it?" 
 
 "Yes, all I was entitled to." 
 
 "Did he spend much at the madam's?" 
 
 "Yes, lots." 
 
 "Was he in the habit of visiting you?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "What time did he leave that morning?" 
 
 "I don't know; he always used to leave early." 
 
 "Do you expect him to call on you again?" 
 
 "I am not sure now, on account of this trouble. If it 
 had not been for it, I was going back to Nevada with him. ' ' 
 
 "You think he was all right then, and not a gay de- 
 ceiver?" looking jokingly at her. 
 
 "I know he was." 
 
 "Well, we'll have to take your word for it — ^that's all, 
 Miss." 
 
 All the women who had freely given up the names of 
 their men and those who had relented after a few hours in 
 the cooler were discharged, with an admonition that they 
 would have to report in a few days at headquarters, when 
 
1 Am Xo Tim 
 
THE THIRD DEGREE 281 
 
 they would be notified of tlie date of the inquest, as they 
 might be wanted for witnesses. 
 
 That morning being Monday, Matthew Howard had no 
 sooner sat down to his breakfast than Rachel said, "Matt, 
 have you read of that horrible murder in Chicago?" 
 
 ''No, where was it?" 
 
 She picked up the paper and, finding the item, which 
 gave a graphic description of the killing of Madam Blom- 
 garten, he read it carefully. Matt laid the paper down in a 
 thoughtful manner, and began his breakfast. 
 
 The result of the investigation by the police in refer- 
 ence to the killing of Madam Blomgarten had produced little 
 fruit, except the disclosure that some thirteen of Chicago's 
 eminent and most respected citizens were in close proximity 
 to where the tragedy had taken place. Their names, occu- 
 pations and addresses were laid snugly away in the desk of 
 a lieutenant of police. Mugsy was not asked to further 
 testify. He had got in touch with his old friend, Mr. Dent, 
 who in turn had notified a professional bondsman to bail 
 him out, and furnish such bonds as might be deemed neces- 
 sary for his instant release. 
 
 When the chief had heard of the humanitarian act of 
 the veteran policeman, who had removed the rope from the 
 bed post so as to give Sadie Blomgarten a more restful posi- 
 tion on the floor, he got furious and swore like a trooper at 
 the sergeant who had given him the information. 
 
 ""Why did you put such a duish as old Muldoon in 
 
 charge of the body? Didn't you know that that d old 
 
 fool would make a blunder if possible?" 
 
282 THE THIRD DEGREE 
 
 "I couldn't see how he could," said the sergeant, 
 meekly. 
 
 ' ' Well, leave it to him, he '11 find a way, but don 't men- 
 tion it to any one until you hear further. Have they laid 
 out the body?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Then get the rope and give part of it to five or six of 
 our plain clothes men, who will visit the hardware stores 
 and inquire if any suspicious persons have been purchasing 
 any rope of a similar character in the past few days, and, 
 as you are in charge, go notify the press which is eager for 
 news that we are hot on the trail of the assassin and expect 
 to make arrests before night. You see, Serg., we will have 
 to do something to save our face." 
 
 The sergeant grinned. "All right," he said, "I'll dope 
 them properly." He was anxious to redeem himself for the 
 blunder of putting the veteran policeman in charge of 
 Sadie's remains. 
 
 The plain clothes men who visited the hardware and 
 other stores, on making inquiry as to the purchasers of 
 sash cords, were met with the general reply: 
 
 ""Why, that's so and so's sash cord, (mentioning the 
 name of the maker). It's in general use. We sell some of 
 it every day." So that clue was abandoned. 
 
 It happened at the time that both the city administra- 
 tion and the coroner were in close touch, and the chief and 
 the city authorities called in the coroner for a conference. 
 The chief laid the facts as he had learned them before him. 
 
 "We haven't a single clue to work on," he said, "and 
 to summon those who were in the house on the night of the 
 murder to give evidence before your jury would shake 
 Chicago's society from its foundation." 
 
THE THIRD DEGREE 283 
 
 With that he handed the list of names he had to the 
 coroner, who whistled and grinned as he looked over them, 
 and then handed them to a representative of the executive 
 who, after scanning them over, smiled and looked signifi- 
 cantly at both chief and coroner. 
 
 "And another difficulty I have to contend against," 
 said the chief, "and I have kept it quiet: an old fossil of a 
 policeman took the rope from the bed post she was hanging 
 from and let her drop to the floor before your deputy," 
 looking at the coroner, "reached the scene." 
 
 "Well, what do you propose?" inquired the coroner, 
 looking at the chief of police. 
 
 "That she committed suicide." 
 
 The coroner laughed. 
 
 "It's the only thing," said the chief. 
 
 The representative of the executive nodded. He still 
 had the list of names in his hand. 
 
 "Who is the deputy in charge?" he inquired, address- 
 ing the coroner. 
 
 "M B ." 
 
 "Well, he's all right, isn't he?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And I suppose," said the chief, "he has his regular 
 jury with him?" 
 
 "Sure," replied the coroner. 
 
 "Then there should be no difficulty," said the repre- 
 sentative of the executive. 
 
 "But what about the state's attorney?" inquired the 
 coroner. 
 
 "Let him go to h ," replied the chief, "and do what 
 
 he pleases. He is no good, anyhow." 
 
 Two weeks after Sadie Blomgarten was killed six good 
 men and true sat on her. 
 
284 THE THIRD DEGREE 
 
 Dinah, the colored woman, the policeman who was first 
 on the scene, and the doorkeeper testified. The deputy- 
 coroner asked them a few irrelevant questions. The fore- 
 man of the jury looked at the deputy. 
 
 The deputy said, "I believe that is sufficient.'* 
 
 The six men sworn to maintain the constitution, etc., 
 etc., retired and brought in a unanimous verdict: 
 
 "That Sadie Blomgarten, during a fit of temporary 
 insanity, had committed suicide." 
 
 A verdict that was heartily approved by the thirteen 
 influential and honored citizens, whose names and addresses 
 the chief had, and from whom he expected a liberal contri- 
 bution to the next campaign fund. 
 
THE TRIANGLE 285 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 THE TRIANGLE. 
 
 In **the good old days," when Chicago was an open 
 town, and when no Personal Liberty League was required to 
 defend the inalienable rights of the dear people, there stood 
 opposite the Union Depot on Canal street, between Adams 
 and Madison streets, a row of saloons, each a temple of 
 liberty, open to receive "strangers." and, as recorded in 
 Holy writ, ''ever ready to take them in." 
 
 During the liberal times we refer to there was a large 
 influx of foreigners to our shores, with little knowledge of 
 the generous disposition of the proprietors of those institu- 
 tions, who provided guides, or "runners" as they were 
 called, to steer the uninformed from the depot to the place 
 where lunch was given away, where they might leave their 
 little worldly goods for safe keeping, meet nice sociable 
 parties who would entertain them during their stay with a 
 friendly game of dice, or cards, and so amuse them after 
 their long, tedious journey on the train that brought them 
 after a probably longer voyage over the briny sea. The 
 Union Depot was a fruitful field for men in the same line 
 of business as Mr. Isaac Rosenthal's, who were ever ready 
 to conduct a lone girl who was in doubt as to the way she 
 should go. They were ever ready to lead her to a harbor 
 of rest or place of employment, sometimes going to the ex- 
 pense of hiring a cab to facilitate her travel. Nor was their 
 solicitude for the traveling public confined exclusively to 
 the cause of women; occasionally they found a man who 
 
286 THE TRIANGLE 
 
 might want advice as to where to put up for a time between 
 his arrival and departure. 
 
 In those days little attention was given to emigrants 
 by either government or railway officials. The latter landed 
 them at the place their railway tickets were good for, and 
 then their obligations ceased. And the United States Gov- 
 ernment, ever opposed to what is called paternalism, allowed 
 the strangers to shift for themselves. While the police 
 authorities in those days, who owed their places on the force 
 to the politicians, discreetly took care of themselves, and 
 seldom or ever interfered in matters that they considered did 
 not concern them, or they were in cahoots with the grafters, 
 which recent developments in the police force of the present 
 day would warrant us was possible at that time. The system 
 in operation by Ike Rosenthal and his gang was, on the 
 arrival of an emigrant train they mingled freely with the 
 crowd, anxiously scanning the faces of the strangers, as if 
 in search of some person they expected. They never inter- 
 fered with groups. But on observing a lone woman, or girl, 
 they would accost her in her native language. (Ike and his 
 associates spoke many tongues.) She in a strange land 
 accosted in her native language by one whom she believed 
 to be her countryman immediately became imbued with con- 
 fidence and told what she knew of any person resembling 
 the description, and if she had failed in observing any per- 
 son such as they described she told them so. Ike and his 
 friends assumed to be in great distress. The young person 
 they were inquiring about was a sister, or cousin, or some 
 very dear friend, who, they were sure, sailed on the same 
 boat that brought her. The woman, or girl, they were hold- 
 ing conversation with sympathized with them in their 
 anxiety as a rule. But she herself was a stranger, who 
 probably expected to meet some person or persons to guide 
 
THE TRIANGLE 287 
 
 her to her friends if she had any in the city, but who, 
 through some error as to the time of the arrival of the train, 
 or other unforeseen circumstance, was not there to receive 
 her. 
 
 So she willingly accepted the advice or assistance of 
 the nice young gentlemen who unselfishly were willing to 
 lead her to the address, if she had one, or to some place 
 suitable to her present necessities. And so she fell! one of 
 the thousands lost to friends and kindred. The population 
 of our country was not so large in those days as it is at 
 present, when it is computed that 50,000 women and girls 
 are swallowed up annually by the Moloch or some other 
 infernal deity. 
 
 In those days there were few, if any, to keep records 
 of the waifs and strays of the time, unlike today where many 
 excellent men and women are banded together for the pur- 
 pose of fighting those who believe in and profit from com- 
 mercialized vice. And it would seem as if the forces arrayed 
 against the vicious element in the community are gradu- 
 ally storming their outworks and will soon have their citadel 
 leveled to the dust, when ''Virtue will trimph over Vice." 
 
 Another healthy sign of the times is the change of senti- 
 ment among the people as to the status of those addicted to 
 alcoholism. But a very few years ago, the man who was a 
 drunkard was looked upon with commiseration, a good 
 fellow but unfortunate. Changing opinion today foreshad- 
 ows that ere many years he will be treated as a criminal, 
 who violates every rule of good society, who shows a horrid 
 example to others — a man to be condemned, ostracized by 
 every decent person, one w^ho brings scandal on his kith and 
 kindred, misery, poverty, and degradation on those whom 
 he has sworn to honor, siipport, and protect, even upon the 
 very offspring God hath given to him as a blessing, but whom 
 
288 THE TRIANGLE 
 
 he deserts in his love for liquor and the smiles of the grog- 
 gery-keeper, whose wife wears furs while his is dressed in 
 tatters. 
 
 The children of the one are well fed and well clad, 
 while his, the drunkard's, go without food, shoes, or shelter. 
 Such a man is a criminal in the full meaning of the word, 
 because he avoids his most solemn and binding obligations, 
 shirks his duty, and imposes on the community who invaria- 
 bly have to come to the rescue or aid of those he was bound 
 to support. He is a canker on the body politic, and punish- 
 ment commensurate with his crime should be meted out to 
 him. It is often said that the good things of this world are 
 unevenly divided. How much out of proportion they must 
 be when a sordid sot is kept in employment and a decent, 
 sober, industrious person is permitted to walk our streets, 
 day after day, in search of employment so as to provide for 
 those he loves and is anxious to cherish ? If those deductions 
 are true, the inquiry now made of all those seeking employ- 
 ment in commercial or manufacturing institutions is justi- 
 fiable, when he who seeks a job is asked to answer whether 
 or not he is addicted to the use of alcohol. And as a final 
 proposition we would inquire of all our readers, is it to be 
 wondered at if the children of the drunkards fall into evil 
 ways, or is it, as recorded in Holy Writ, that "the sins of 
 the Father shall visit the children even to the third gener- 
 ation?" 
 
 But, to our story. The runners around the depot, with 
 brass badges on their arms or breasts, and the name of 
 a hotel on a band around their caps, met the trains as they 
 arrived and importuned strangers to seek rest and refresh- 
 ments in their place, where everything was nice and re- 
 spectable, and good lunch served free. The simplelK)n once 
 in the clutches of the runner was an easy mark, he was 
 
THE TRIANGLE 289 
 
 lucky to get away with his clothes ; if he had some baggage 
 with him, and it was found that he was only waiting for an 
 outgoing train, his bag, case, or bundle was ofttimes rifled, 
 so that when he reached his final destination he might find 
 the most of his valuables either stolen or strayed. If he 
 was especially easy to work, he might be inveigled into a 
 sociable game of dice for drinks. At the beginning he might 
 have temporary success at which his newly found acquaint- 
 ances would laugh with seeming glee, especially when the 
 house got stuck, the bar tender as a rule being one of the 
 players, who kept tab of the drinks as they were served; 
 in the final shake-off as to who would pay for all, he always 
 failed and when the total amount was figured up for him 
 he got a surprise, his kick was in vain. If he protested 
 aloud he was abused, threatened, and denounced as a beat 
 who Avas trying to "put it over" on them. There was no 
 chance to escape for him, as all the hangers-on who had 
 become interested in the game stood between him and the 
 door. He was even threatened with arrest, and ultimately 
 was forced to pay, told to get out and his baggage or what 
 still remained of it thrown after him amid the jeers of the 
 crowd who called him a quitter, if not worse. 
 
 Ike Rosenthal and his pals arrived one day at the Union 
 depot to meet the emigrant train a short time before it was 
 due. Going to the board on which it was recorded whether 
 the train was on time or not, they found it would be two 
 hours late. 
 
 "Let us go over to ," mentioning the name of a 
 
 co-religionist of his, who kept a saloon opposite the railway 
 station. On entering the bar room they were very much 
 amused to find an elderly man whose long whiskers, rustic 
 garb and top boots would indicate he was a farmer. He 
 had been shaking dice for the drinks before Ike and his 
 
290 THE TRIANGLE 
 
 pals came in. The bartender nodded familiarly to Rosen- 
 thal when he saw him enter, 
 
 "What are you going to have, gentlemen?" said the 
 bartender to the newcomers. 
 
 "I have just lost a drink — what will you take?" 
 
 Ike and his four associates gave their order and were 
 duly served, the man behind the bar putting the amount 
 down on a tab so as not to cheat his employer, who was one 
 of those in the game. 
 
 Ike and his friends became very much interested in the 
 sport ; Ike espousing the cause of the farmer, and proposing 
 to back him for a dollar. The wager was immediately taken 
 up by one of his friends. The game had proceeded some 
 time, when a proposition was made that the four who were 
 playing should shake the dice for who'd pay for all. There 
 was some discussion as to how it should be decided. Rosen- 
 thal who was backing the farmer made a suggestion, that 
 they should all shake, the highest dropping out each time 
 until two were left, those two to shake and the loser to pay 
 for all. The farmer preferred to pay his share and quit. 
 
 "Go on," said Ike, tapping him on the shoulder. "I'll 
 bet five you're not stuck." 
 
 The runner who had landed him was also confident of 
 his ultimate success, or professed to be, so urged him to 
 stick. The farmer still hesitated but, being persistently 
 urged by his newly made acquaintances, consented to go 
 to the finish. 
 
 "I'll bet ten to five my friend hasn't to pay for the 
 drinks," said Ike Rosenthal, flourishing a ten-dollar bill. 
 
 "I will take your fifteen to five," said one of his chums; 
 "that's the betting." 
 
 "I'll bet him if you'll go me half," said Ike, looking at 
 the countryman, who disclaimed being a gambler. 
 
THE TRIANGLE 291 
 
 In the first trial the farmer was third. The saloon 
 keeper, who was one of the contestants, being highest, was 
 exempt. 
 
 ''I'll take a cigar on this one," he said, laughing. 
 
 The game was stopped while the cigars and drinks 
 were being served. The farmer would take nothing, his 
 idea being to curtail the cost if the worst happened to him. 
 
 At the second attempt, when the three remaining shook 
 off, the countryman was a good second. 
 
 More drinks and cigars, and then the final tussle. Ike 
 Rosenthal was loud in his support of the stranger. 
 
 "I'll bet a tenner my friend wins," he said flourishing 
 a roll of bills. 
 
 "I will take your two to one," exclaimed one of his 
 accomplices. 
 
 "AVhat do you take me for?" exclaimed Ike, assuming 
 some temper. 
 
 There was some by-play among the consumers present 
 as the countryman began to show a white feather, even pro- 
 posing to pay half and let it go at that. Against this propo- 
 sition the bar keeper protested loudly — it was all or nothing 
 with him. The crowd, seeing the necessity of bracing the 
 sucker up, began to express increased confidence in his 
 ultimate success. 
 
 "I will bet fifteen to ten, if you let me shake for him," 
 said Rosenthal hastily. 
 
 The bar keeper would not agree to this. " I am shaking 
 against this gentleman," he said, meekly, "and you're not 
 in the game." 
 
 This snub seemed to arouse Rosenthal's ire, who told 
 the farmer in a confident manner, "Go ahead, you're sure 
 to beat him." 
 
 The countryman ultimately, but with some reluctance, 
 
292 THE TRIANGLE 
 
 phook and lost, when those present offered their condolence. 
 
 "You're out of luck, old man!" said Rosenthal, in a 
 sympathetic strain. 
 
 The bar keeper, after serving the last round, figured 
 up from his tab, and announced the bill as eleven dollars 
 and seventy cents. 
 
 The farmer set up a howl and protested he wouldn't 
 pay. This estranged all his former supporters, who shook 
 him. 
 
 The bar keeper, professing anger, said, "You'll pay be- 
 fore you leave here." 
 
 The runner who had brought him in had placed his 
 baggage behind the bar for safe keeping. 
 
 The countryman was at bay — he wasn't going to pay 
 any such amount. 
 
 "You won't; won't you?" shouted the bar keeper, 
 reaching to the shelf behind him and producing a horse 
 pistol about a foot and a half long, one that had done service 
 in the Revolutionary war, and pointed it at the man who 
 had backed up against the wall. 
 
 "Don't shoot him! Don't shoot him!" exclaimed a 
 number who were present, as if in alarm, and who went be- 
 tween the man with the gun and the man he was pointing 
 it at. 
 
 "He'll pay," said Ikey Rosenthal, who could hardly 
 suppress his laughter. 
 
 The landlord thought it was time to interfere and 
 remonstrate with the man as to why he would not pay his 
 score. The man still remaining obdurate, he gave instruc- 
 tions to one of his followers to go get a policeman. 
 
 When one of "the finest" arrived he adjudicated the 
 case by saying to the man, "If you lost you must pay and 
 if you don't I'll have to take you down." 
 
THE TRIANGLE 293 
 
 The man, seeing no redress and fearing arrest, paid the 
 amount ; the bar keeper handing him his baggage. When he 
 was going out the door, the saloon keeper said, 
 
 "Wait, and take something. Don't go away mad." 
 
 But the countryman was in no humor to take either his 
 drink or advice. 
 
 ''Let us go," said Rosenthal, looking at his watch, 
 "we'll miss this train." 
 
 "Take something before you go. What will you have, 
 Jim?" addressing the policeman. 
 
 They all drank, the policeman, the decoys, and the 
 saloon keeper ; the unsavory bunch having a mutual under- 
 standing to aid and not retard business in their separate 
 lines. 
 
294 ROBERT HILL TAKES A VACATION 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 ROBERT HILL TAKES A VACATION. 
 
 Robert Hill read the Chicago papers very carefully 
 for days after the killing of Sadie Blomgarten to see how 
 the press and public took it. He smiled when he came across 
 the paragraph informing their readers that the Chicago 
 police were hot on the trail of the assassin, and would prob- 
 ably have the culprit in the toils before night. Another 
 item that interested him was the statement that grave sus- 
 picion pointed to Mugsy, who had been held pending further 
 inquiry. He was anxious to hear what the coroner's verdict 
 would be, but, as that august body had adjourned for two 
 weeks, he had to curb his impatience. 
 
 The verdict he hoped for was that Sadie Blomgarten 
 was strangled by some person to whom she had done a 
 grievous wrong, believing as he did that such a decision 
 would be a warning to others like her in the same line of 
 business to refrain from purchasing innocent girls and forc- 
 ing them into a life of shame. 
 
 On the fourth day after the execution of Sadie the 
 newspapers had a description of her funeral, which was of 
 an imposing character. The proprietors of every house of 
 illfame with any standing in the community were there in 
 carriages, as were their inmates. The names of the pall- 
 bearers were given, all with but two exceptions being the 
 proprietors of tough saloons in the neighborhood ; these two 
 exceptions were a bartender and Mugsy, who was released 
 the day before. 
 
ROBERT HILL TAKES A VACATION 295 
 
 But what interested him most of all was an announce- 
 ment that a person by the name of Isaac Rosenthal was 
 chief assistant to the funeral director, and that to him in 
 a great measure the credit of the magnificent demonstra- 
 tion should be given, as it was he who had sent out the 
 notices as to the day and hour of funeral and the advisability 
 of making the affair one of such proportions, as a token of 
 the high esteem the lady was held in and from a commer- 
 cial point of view advertising at the same time the fine 
 figures and fine feathers of the girls of the underworld, but 
 who Ike believed should be considered as on top. Hill knew 
 the name of his sister's betrayer, but had no knowledge of 
 his address or where he might be found, and his experience 
 in the search of his sister led him to believe that if he had 
 to hunt for him in the labrynth of vice in Chicago it might 
 take weeks or months to find him. His first impulse was 
 to employ Tony, but he abandoned that idea as quickly as 
 he conceived it. 
 
 After giving the matter some considerable thought he 
 decided on a plan, which proved successful. 
 
 He wrote a letter, imitating a woman's writing as 
 nearly as he could, as follows, and took chances on its 
 delivery : 
 
 ''Mr. Isaac Rosenthal. 
 
 Dear Sir: — As one of those who attended the funeral 
 of our late lamented sister Sadie Blomgarten, I was much 
 impressed by your gentlemanly conduct, and your very ex- 
 cellent management of the whole affair. I have a desire to 
 make your acquaintance. I am a young woman of eighteen 
 and some people say of prepossessing appearance, and as 
 I live at home with my people it would be unwise for you 
 to address your reply to my house, so would ask you to 
 
296 ROBERT HILL TAKES A VACATION 
 
 send me your address to General Delivery Chicago, so that 
 I may further communicate with you, with the ultimate 
 object of a personal interview. 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 Theresa Nightingale." 
 
 After writing the letter, Robert Hill had some doubts 
 as to whether the person at the window of the general de- 
 livery would give him Rosenthal 's reply, even if he sent one. 
 
 "I will take a chance," he said to himself. "If the 
 letter reaches the postoffice, even if they don't give it to me, 
 I probably can devise a way to get it, so I will mail mine 
 from Chicago the first time I'm up." 
 
 He addressed the letter to the home of the late Madam 
 Blomgarten, feeling confident it would be delivered. 
 
 On the Thursday evening following the tragedy he 
 called at the store. Rachel was rejoiced to see him. Her 
 brother Matt, who stood close by, stared at him before he 
 spoke. 
 
 "Well, Matt, how is business?" Hill said in a most 
 casual manner. 
 
 Howard still gazed at him to see if any facial expression 
 on Hill's part would lead him to believe that he surmised 
 Howard's knowledge of the death of Sadie Blomgarten, 
 and how it was brought about, but no such expression was 
 apparent. 
 
 "Business is good," said Matt. After a pause, "How 
 is the sculptor getting on with that monument he is prepar- 
 ing for you?" 
 
 "Slowly," was Hill's reply. "You see it is a big job, 
 and, as he has more urgent work to do at times, I have in- 
 structed him that he may delay mine. I don't want him to 
 
ROBERT HILL TAKES A VACATION 297 
 
 hurry it anyhow, as I am paying a good price for it and 
 want a good job." 
 
 "I suppose it will be extra grand?" said Rachel. 
 
 "I think you will like it," was Hill's reply. "It will 
 be both massive and artistic." 
 
 "When will it be ready?" queried Matt. 
 
 "In about a month." 
 
 "I supposed you could get one all ready to put up,*' 
 ventured Rachel. 
 
 "Not to my liking." 
 
 The subject was then dropped for ordinary conversa- 
 tion. When Hill left Matthew Howard was in a quandary 
 — he found for the first time in his life that he could not 
 fathom his friend's thoughts. 
 
 Hill went to Chicago on Saturday as usual, and mailed 
 the letter to Rosenthal in a far north side box, made a few 
 purchases for himself and other members of his family and 
 bought a magnificent bunch of American Beauties for Rachel 
 
 Howard. Catching an early train, he was back in B in 
 
 time to present them to her. 
 
 Rachel was delighted. She saw in the gift an indica- 
 tion that Bob was coming back to his old self, and her heart 
 was glad. 
 
 Matt was exceptionally well pleased. 
 
 "You didn't stay long this time?" 
 
 ' ' No, I was lucky to get through and get the train back. 
 But I must be getting home. I have a few things here," 
 alluding to a bundle he had under his arm for the old 
 woman and some of the youngsters. 
 
 Another week had passed, and Howard scanning his 
 paper one morning was more than surprised to read of the 
 inquest held on the remains of Sadie Blomgarten, that she 
 had committed suicide during a fit of temporary insanity, 
 
298 ROBERT HILL TAKES A VACATION 
 
 that the authorities had made the most searching inquiry, 
 and that the evidence given before the coroner left no room 
 for any other verdict but that, in a fit of temporary insanity, 
 she had taken her life. 
 
 Howard did not know what to think; the evidence, 
 however, was clear, the jury must have learned the facts, 
 and, after all his suspicion, his friend Hill had neither act 
 nor part in it. 
 
 Hill had read the same article on the same morning 
 and could not help but smile. "I'll go over to Matt's this 
 evening, ' ' he chuckled to himself. * ' I suppose he '11 be brim 
 full of news." 
 
 On his arriving at Howard's, Matt looked hard at him 
 as if to see if he was posted. Hill began a conversation on 
 some trifling subject, and at length, Howard's patience be- 
 ing exhausted, he called Hill to one side. 
 
 "Bob, did you hear the news?" 
 
 "No, nothing in particular." 
 
 * ' Then it 's a startler. Do you know Madam Blomgarten 
 committed suicide?" 
 
 "You don't say!" 
 
 "Yes, it's in this morning's paper." 
 
 "Let me read it." 
 
 "Rachel, have you the morning paper there?" 
 
 "Yes, here it is," handing it to her brother who, in 
 turn, handed it to Hill, at the same time pointing to the 
 paragraph. 
 
 Robert Hill assumed to read it very carefully. When 
 he had read it through, he said, turning to his friend, 
 
 "I believe there is a God in Israel after all." 
 
 That was his sole comment. 
 
 Before his next visit to Chicago he addressed a letter 
 to the General Delivery department, purporting that Miss 
 
ROBERT HILL TAKES A VACATION 299 
 
 Theresa Nightingale was sick and unable to call for her 
 own mail, and if any was there would they please be kind 
 enough to give it to her brother who would present this 
 letter. 
 
 On handing it to the nice young gentleman who attended 
 to the General Delivery, he read it carefully, then looked at 
 the eminently respectable man who confronted him and 
 handed him the letter without a moment's hesitation. 
 
 Hill placed the letter in his pocket, thanked the young 
 man, and walked rapidly away. At a safe distance he went 
 into a restaurant, ordered some lunch and, while the attend- 
 ant went to bring the food, he eagerly opened and scruti- 
 nized the letter. Ikey had fallen for it. He wrote he was de- 
 lighted to hear from the young lady, and would feel honored 
 
 to hear further from her. His residence was — Ave., but 
 
 he would be glad to meet her at any place and at any time 
 she should designate. Before writing his answer to Miss 
 Nightingale, he had shown her note to his friends, who 
 chuckled over it. 
 
 "I'll bet she's a peach," said one. 
 
 "You must have impressed her," said another. 
 
 "Hypnotized her," is the proper word, said a third. 
 
 Ikey Rosenthal swelled his breast with pride and began 
 to figure what was in it. His mental calculations proving 
 satisfactory, he ordered a drink. One of his friends jok- 
 ingly proposed Miss Theresa Nightingale's health, while the 
 others laughed at the witticism. 
 
 Mr. Robinson, manager at the mill, was somewhat sur- 
 prised one evening after working hours, when Hill informed 
 him he thought of taking a vacation. 
 
 "You see, Mr. Robinson, I have everything in good 
 shape here no"w, and William being about as proficient as 
 myself, you'll never miss me for a couple of weeks." 
 
300 ROBERT HILL TAKES A VACATION 
 
 "You stay for a month, Bob, if you like. The mill will 
 be here when you come back. Where are you thinking of 
 going?" 
 
 "I am going down East. I intend to visit some places 
 like ours. While away, I may learn something." 
 
 "Then charge it up to the firm," said Robinson. 
 
 "Do you want me to put my laundry and cigar bills 
 in? and I might want to treat a girl if I should happen to 
 meet one while away," said Bob, laughing. "And how 
 would the directors like to read of that?" 
 
 "Put it down for ' miscellaneous V ' replied Robinson, 
 "or current expenses," laughing in return. "That's what 
 the drummers do." 
 
 "No! No!" said HilL "I am well satisfied with my 
 vacation with full pay." 
 
 "When do you intend to go?" 
 
 "Saturday." 
 
 "Well, I'm pleased you're going and hope you'll enjoy 
 yourself." 
 
 When he told the Howards, Matt expressed his pleasure 
 at his going, 
 
 "You had better take me with you," said Rachel. 
 
 "I may — some day," said Hill, significantly, in a tone 
 no way displeasing to Howard's sister. 
 
VENGEANCE ZOl 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 VENGEANCE. 
 
 On the Sunday morning after Hill's arrival in Chicago 
 he set out to find the location of the house Rosenthal had 
 given the number of. He was somewhat surprised to find 
 from appearances it was a residence street, and remote from 
 the "red light" district. In passing along the street he 
 took notice of the numbers and found that one was that 
 Rosenthal had given in his note to Miss Theresa Nightingale. 
 The house was a fairly well kept brick building of three 
 stories, the brass work on the door was well polished, the 
 steps clean, and a little green patch in front seemed to be 
 well kept. There was an air of respectability about the 
 entire place, in fact he began to wonder if Mr. Rosenthal 
 was a family man, if he had a wife and children, or was 
 this the abode of his parents ? He noticed in many windows 
 and on doorposts on the street a card on which was printed 
 "furnished rooms to rent," or "room to rent on the 1st 
 flat," or whatever the location might be. 
 
 Hill took a careful view of the surroundings. 
 
 Among other matters that came under his observation 
 was an alley some hundred feet south of the address he had. 
 A lamp-post stood a little way fi-om the corner of the alley. 
 Satisfied as to the street and number, and the general loca- 
 tion, Hill decided to cease his investigation for the day, 
 visited some of the parks, and spent the evening in his room 
 at the hotel where he had put up. 
 
 To make inquiries around the place as to who occupied 
 
302 VENGEANCE 
 
 the house under consideration might attract attention; that 
 he wished to avoid. 
 
 On Monday morning, as early as 8 o'clock, he stationed 
 himself a full block from the house he was there to watch. 
 He noticed many persons leave it, men and women, but 
 none in any way resembling the description of the party 
 he sought, until near 10 o'clock, when he observed a dap- 
 per young fellow descending the steps. As he got nearer 
 he noticed his cuffs protruded nearly three inches lower 
 than his coat sleeve. As he came nearer still he could ob- 
 serve the ribbon at his side with an elaborate seal, he had 
 a ring on his finger, and a bright stone in his shirt front. 
 On the whole he seemed dressed as would become a young 
 gentleman, occupying a good social position. Hill wondered 
 if that could be the party he was in quest of. 
 
 Whoever he was, he walked jauntily along, twisting 
 the cane he held in his hand, till he came to a corner where 
 a cigar store was situated. He went in, staying but a few 
 minutes. When he came out he had a lighted cigar in his 
 mouth and continued his journey until he came to a cross 
 section on M-^hich there were street cars running. A car 
 approaching rapidly he ran and jumped on, when Hill lost 
 sight of him. He intended to follow on the next car, but 
 the time between the cars was so long that Hill was com- 
 pelled to give up the chase for the day. 
 
 The following morning Hill took his position a little 
 way from that which he had taken the previous day. The 
 same persons seemed to come from the same house, and at 
 about the same time as on the day before. The very well 
 dressed young gentleman came down the steps and pursued 
 his way until he came to the cigar store before mentioned, 
 went in, and in a few minutes came out smoking a cigar. 
 After he had gotten away a little distance Hill walked into 
 
VENGEANCE 303 
 
 the store and, looking over the cigars in the case as if he 
 was a connoisseur, said, 
 
 "I want to get four nice cigars for a half," 
 
 "Havana or domestic?" asked the man behind the 
 counter. 
 
 "I'm not particular." 
 
 "Well, here's a nice cigar," taking a box which still 
 remained on the glass counter, "we sell a good many of 
 those. A gentleman who just went out uses them regularly 
 and speaks highly of them." 
 
 "You mean that well dressed fellow that I saw going 
 out before I came in?" 
 
 "Yes, he visits me nearly ever morning." 
 
 "Judging from his appearance he can afford to," 
 smiling. 
 
 "I suppose he's a banker or railway director." 
 
 The man laughed, but made no further comment. 
 
 "Take one with me," said Hill, pushing one of the 
 cigars in the direction of the storekeeper and, going to a 
 stand where there was a little gas blazing, lit his own. 
 
 After taking a few puffs he remarked, 
 
 "Those are all right. Your customer who has just left 
 might be complimented on his judgment. I suppose he has 
 plenty of money anyhow." 
 
 "Yes," said the man, in a confidential mood, "he gets 
 it easy." 
 
 "Why, what does he do?" inquired Hill in an offhand 
 manner. 
 
 "Does everybody he can," said the cigar dealer, laugh- 
 ing. "He's an all around sport and gambler." 
 
 "He lives around here, does he?" 
 
 "Yes, a little way up the street. His name is Rosen- 
 thal." 
 
304 VENGEANCE 
 
 Hill felt the blood tingling in his veins. 
 
 *'Good day!" he said, as he was leaving. 
 
 *'Call again/' said the man, "and thank you." 
 
 Hill, on the third morning of his pursuit, stationed him- 
 self at the crossing where he expected Rosenthal to take 
 his car. He let many cars go by him, until he saw his 
 quarry coming. Signaling the car to stop he got on and 
 took a seat, followed a moment later by Mr. Rosenthal, who 
 went right through to the front, as he was smoking. Hill 
 noticed he was well known, a fellow passenger on the car 
 saying, 
 
 ''Well, Ikey, how are they coming?" 
 
 "Pretty good," was Ikey's reply. 
 
 Hill had no further doubt. "That's the man who 
 trapped my sister," he said to himself, a look of hate 
 mantling his face which he covered with his hand. He 
 watched till Rosenthal was about to get off, and took his 
 place behind a number who were of the same mind, and 
 following Rosenthal at some distance saw him turn into a 
 saloon. 
 
 Hill took up a position some distance away, to await 
 Rosenthal's coming out, but after a vigil of upward of 
 two hours the party he was watching never showed up. He 
 came to the conclusion, which proved to be correct, that the 
 place under consideration was a rendezvous. The following 
 day, at about the time he expected Rosenthal to put in an 
 appearance, he took a position somewhat remote from the 
 one he had taken the day previous, but whence he could 
 have an unobstructed view of the saloon entrance. He saw 
 Rosenthal enter and waited in the hope he would come out, 
 so that he could further track him. He hadn't long to wait 
 until he observed Rosenthal come out, followed by three 
 
VENGEANCE 305 
 
 others. They all jumped on a passing car that was going 
 north, and were soon lost to sight. 
 
 Hill entered a restaurant that was close at hand and 
 dined. It was then past noon, when leaving the restaurant 
 and crossing the road, he went into the saloon which Rosen- 
 thal and his pals had left some time ago. 
 
 There was a cigar case just inside the entrance, and then 
 folding doors. Inside the doors was the bar proper, where 
 a number of men stood smoking and drinking. About mid- 
 way up the bar, on the opposite side, were a number of 
 compartments with closed doors, in which he could hear 
 men and women's voices in lively conversation. At the 
 end of the inclosed rooms there was a door leading into a 
 passage. Hill ordered a glass of beer and a cigar, the waiter 
 struck a match for him to light it. He then stood sipping 
 his beer and smoking his cigar, seemingly oblivious of those 
 in the place. He had been there but a short time, when a 
 man accosted him with the announcement: 
 
 "All games upstairs." 
 
 "Thank you, but I haven't time today. I was just 
 waiting for a party, but it seems as if they were not com- 
 ing, so I will have to go." 
 
 "Was it a lady?" 
 
 "Yes," said Hill, smiling, 
 
 "Well you'd better wait. She'll probably turn up." 
 
 "No, thank you, I must be going," and he took his 
 departure. 
 
 Opposite the saloon and gambling house there was a 
 hotel of a shady character. On a sign on the doorjam it 
 said, "Rooms to rent by day or week." Hill made applica- 
 tion for a front room and was told he could have one on the 
 second floor. 
 
306 VENGEANCE 
 
 "Have you a lady?" inquired the woman who was 
 acting as clerk. 
 
 Hill was nonplussed for a moment for a reply. At 
 length he said, "I may have," looking at the woman, who 
 promptly said, 
 
 "If you are going to stay for a week it will be so 
 much," mentioning the sum, which was considerably aug- 
 mented by the probable advent of a woman. 
 
 Hill paid the price, the clerk gave him the key, at the 
 same time instructing a slatternly- looking girl to show the 
 gentleman to his room, from the window of which he had 
 a full view of the saloon on the opposite side of the street. 
 
 He left his room only as occasion required, to visit 
 the bath room, or to get his meals. No cat ever more per- 
 sistently watched a hole from which it expected a rodent 
 to emerge than did Hill watch the saloon. He saw the people 
 going and coming, the arrival of Ikey Rosenthal and his 
 departure. He noticed about 9 in the evening there was a 
 large influx of persons and the departure of many between 
 the hours of 2 and 3 in the morning. Rosenthal seemed to 
 be regular in his attendance, arriving about 9 p. m. and 
 leaving, as a rule, shortly before the lights went out in the 
 upper rooms, the bar being open all night and men and 
 women entering and departing. In those he had no interest. 
 His entire thoughts were focused on one individual and on 
 him alone. 
 
 The ordinary street cars gave but little accommodation 
 to those who were out late. 
 
 What was known as the owl cars did, and they ran but 
 at stated periods during the night. Many of the saloon 
 patrons who had far to go availed themselves of this accom- 
 modation, among others Isaac Rosenthal, Avho generally 
 caught the car which passed the saloon about '2:30 a. m. 
 
Coram Xoii Jud'n 
 
VENGEANCE 307 
 
 Hill 's week was up. He left the place during the after- 
 noon, and, having no baggage, simply walked away. He 
 went to a theatre in the evening, and when the show was 
 over went to a restaurant and had a meal he sat long over. 
 Abaut 1 :30 he left, and walked rapidly south in the dii-ec- 
 tion he knew would lead him to the street where Ikey Rosen- 
 thal roomed. He took a position well up in the alley, but 
 not too far to be out of hearing of whatever footsteps might 
 come that way. In the still morning he could distinctly 
 hear the horse car stop at the crossing to take passengers 
 on or let them off. All the surroundings were as quiet as 
 if the world slept — only when the street car went rumbling 
 by. About a quarter to three he heard a car stop. He 
 listened intently. A foostep sure ! 'TAvas he, the man he 
 sought. He came jauntily along twisting his cane, a cigar 
 in his mouth. He had reached the alley when a giant figure 
 pounced on him. Grasping him by the throat in his fury, 
 he lifted him from his feet and forced him toward the lamp- 
 post. Rosenthal, in his throes, extended his hand to his hip 
 pocket and in a final effort pulled his gun. His Nemesis, 
 having forced him to the lamp-post, held him there with his 
 left hand as if he was in a vise, and with his right he 
 wrenched the gun from him, slipping it into his own coat 
 pocket. His right hand now free, he placed them both 
 around RosenthaFs throat until he saw life was fast fleeing 
 from the wretch, though still conscious. 
 
 "The Lord hath delivered thee into my hands!" his 
 executioner cried. "Martha Hill," he whispered to him, 
 "3^ou remember her! her who was afterward called Clemen- 
 tina Montague? You slaver, you die, you wretch, and may 
 you be eternally damned ! ' ' 
 
 The form of the man that had been strangled was then 
 too limp to stand. Hill had to press his body against the 
 
308 VENGEANCE 
 
 lamp-post to keep it erect. Placing his hand in the breast 
 pocket of his coat and extracting a rope, he wrapped it 
 around the now dead man's throat, and securely tied him 
 to the post. Taking the gun he had gotten from his victim 
 he slipped it into his pocket. For a second he gazed on 
 the face of the dead and then, spitting upon it, walked up 
 the alley and was lost to sight. 
 
MUGSY HAS A CLOSE CALL 309 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVH. 
 MUGSY HAS A CLOSE CALL. 
 
 A laborer going to his work early one morning, with his 
 dinner pail in his hand, was the first to encounter the body 
 of Isaac Rosenthal. Struck dumb with fright, he dropped 
 his can, and ran to the corner of the street where, recover- 
 ing his speech, he shouted loudly: 
 
 "Police! Police!" 
 
 A couple of officers came running from different direc- 
 tions. The first one reaching him said : 
 
 *' "What's up? Stop your bellowing." 
 
 The workman grasped the first policeman by the arm 
 just as the second arrived, and, being too excited to explain, 
 led the officers to where the body of Rosenthal was tied to 
 the lamp post. The policemen in turn were horrified at the 
 ghastly sight, but immediately got busy. One ran to call up 
 the patrol Avagon, while the other remained with the corpse 
 and the workman. When the wagon arrived the remains 
 were loosened from the lamp post and dumped into the con- 
 veyance. On the arrival of the wagon at the Central, the 
 body of the white slaver was taken in and laid on the squad 
 room floor. 
 
 "Why, that's Ikey Rosenthal!" said one of the officers 
 present. 
 
 The body was recognized by others, as both he and his 
 antecedents were well known to the police. 
 
 "Be jabers, he got what was coming to him !" remarked 
 a son of the Emerald Isle in an undertone to the man who 
 
310 MUGSY HAS A CLOSE CALL 
 
 patrolled the same beat with him. *'He was a bad actor," 
 he continued. 
 
 On the arrival of the chief, who had been notified by 
 phone, he gave but a casual glance at the body, but, on being 
 handed the rope by which the body was bound, he became 
 immediately interested. 
 
 "Is Sergeant Morrissey here?" he inquired. 
 
 ''No, sir, but he is due any moment." 
 
 "Tell him when he arrives I want to see him." 
 
 On the arrival of Morrissey, he had no sooner entered 
 the office of the chief than that official handed him the piece 
 of sash-eord by v/hich the body of the man had been tied to 
 the post. 
 
 "Ever see anything like that before?" inquired the 
 chief, looking up at him. 
 
 ' ' Yes, chief, that 's the same kind of cord by which Sadie 
 Blomgarten was strangled, probably part of the same bundle 
 or roll. ' ' 
 
 "Then you've got a clew. The same man, whoever he is, 
 committed both crimes." 
 
 "Yes, but you know, chief, Sadie committed suicide." 
 
 Both laughed, enjoying the joke. 
 
 "Well, while this fellow is no loss to society, I want 
 you to get busy. We must do something for the reputation 
 of the department." 
 
 Immediately a number of plain clothes men were sent 
 out in pursuit of the murderer. The afternoon newspapers 
 had display head lines, announcing "The Assassination of 
 ISAAC ROSENTHAL, A WELL KNOWN SPORTING 
 MAN, WITHIN A HUNDRED FEET OF HIS RESIDENCE. 
 
 Then followed a graphic description of how he was 
 discovered by a laborer (giving his name) on going to his 
 work in the early morn, how he was found, the method of 
 
MUGSY HAS A CLOSE CALL 311 
 
 his undoing, a brief history of the man, partly correct and 
 partly from the imaginations of the versatile reporters, 
 who recognized the affair as furnishing a good story. There 
 were pictures of the man from the photographs obtained 
 from the woman who ran the rooming house in which he had 
 boarded. All the photos, with one exception, showed Mr. 
 Isaac Rosenthal as a very well-groomed, gentlemanly young 
 fellow. Many a simple maid fell for one of them; as the 
 enterprising Ike had stereoptyped letters full of gush and 
 requesting an exchange of photos with the innocents who 
 would correspond with him. If to work her was easy, Ike 
 would promise her a good situation, either as clerk or, if 
 she was dramatically inclined, a position with a company 
 that was just organizing ; or any other old thing he thought 
 she'd bite at. He never failed, however, to inform them 
 that "he was a single young man in good circumstances, he 
 was very much impressed with the nice picture she had sent 
 him, and he hoped to soon have the exceeding pleasure of 
 contemplating the original. With sincere regards, etc." 
 
 The exceptional picture was a scoop by one of the re- 
 porters, who obtained a picture of Ikey at the rogues' gal- 
 lery when he was arrested as a youngster following the 
 vulgar occupation of a common dip working the cars on 
 Halsted street, between Madison and 12th streets. 
 
 The search for Rosenthal's assassin was pursued with 
 vigor. Ike's associates were interviewed, who promised to 
 give such assistance as they could and even a little money 
 to the "cop" who'd catch the culprit. Many clews were 
 hunted down, his going and coming for days before his tak- 
 ing off was laid bare, to find had he any quarrel with any one 
 in particular or had any person been seen following him the 
 night he left the gambling house, but all failed save one. 
 
 Mugsy had been known to threaten him, had ill-used 
 
312 MUGSY HAS A CLOSE CALL 
 
 him on one occasion, and swore he would get even with 
 him on another. This was after the famous Dent divorce 
 case in which, no doubt, he had furnished evidence for the 
 complainant. So the wise guys on the force resolved to 
 make Mugsy the goat, their case against him being strength- 
 ened by the theory that, despite the coroner's verdict as to 
 Sadie Blomgarten's suicide, she might have been murdered 
 after all, and Mugsy was in the house at the time. 
 
 So Mugsy was pinched, held to the grand jury without 
 bail, and indicted. 
 
 Ike's friends were bitter against Mugsy, and prepared 
 to swear a hole through a brick wall to convict him. 
 
 It was shown that, after the death of his old mistress, 
 he had led a precarious life, his woman having to support 
 him by her earnings on the street. The night preceding the 
 murder she was as full of booze as an egg was full of meat. 
 She swore point blank that she and her man Mugsy went 
 to their room about one in the morning, and stayed there 
 all night, but on being given a grueling at police headquar- 
 ters she broke down completely and had to admit that she 
 was so piped that she didn't know where she was. It looked 
 bad for Mugsy — a strong circumstantial case having been 
 made against him. His old friend, Dent, ultimately came to 
 his rescue. He felt assured of Mugsy 's innocence. It didn't 
 make any difference with him whether or not his hatred for 
 Rosenthal was intense, as he was advised by his attorneys 
 in the divorce case that it was Rosenthal that furnished the 
 most damaging evidence against him. He also figured as 
 a practical man of affairs. It was no slouch who had done 
 this job, but a man or men who had laid their plans to a 
 nicety, of which Mugsy was incapable. So Dent put his 
 agents to work who, in time, furnished a reasonable alibi, 
 not unsatisfactory to the then state's attorney, who, when 
 
MUGSY HAS A CLOSE CALL 313 
 
 the case came np for final hearing, entered a plea of "nolle 
 prosequi," to the surprise of Ike's friends and mourners, and 
 the relief of Mugsy, who was discharged. 
 
 The chief of police and some of his subordinates, after 
 their case against Mugsy had collapsed, held a conference 
 at which they permitted some of the newspaper reporters to 
 be present. When they were assembled, he said: 
 
 "Gentlemen, I must admit we are completely baffled in 
 this case. I thought we had the right fellow and as it is I 
 am far from satisfied, but the state thought differently^ so 
 that is an end of it." 
 
 "Why don't you trace some of Rosenthal's enemies?" 
 spoke up one of the young reporters. ' ' Some person he has 
 wronged?" 
 
 "Young man," replied the chief, looking at him, 
 "they're too numerous and spread too widely apart. You 
 know the line of business he was in." 
 
 "Yes, I have heard of it." 
 
 "Well, then, if we would undertake to hunt up ten per 
 cent of them, my men couldn't do it in a year, nor would 
 our appropriation be able to meet the expense. So the case 
 is dropped. My own opinion is some dangerous lunatic 
 through some wrong or fancied wrong is at large, and com- 
 mitted that and another crime which I don't care to men- 
 tion, but with which you are all familiar. And we will be 
 fortunate if we don't hear of some more of his doings. So 
 all I can do now is to have my men on the alei-t. Take a 
 cigar, boys, and forget it for the time." 
 
 The newsies gave a synopsis of the interview, laying 
 stress on the chief's opinion of the dangerous lunatic tJhat 
 was abroad, which frightened many nervous people, until 
 other events arose which eliminated Rosenthal et. al. from 
 their minds. 
 
314 PEACE REIGNS IN B 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 PEACE REIGNS IN B . 
 
 Rachel Howard had an opportunity to glance over the 
 morning papers while awaiting her brother Matt to come 
 to his breakfast. Whenever an item of special interest 
 came to her notice, she, as a rule, called Matt's attention to 
 it as a part of their morning gossip. Having noticed the 
 newspaper account of the killing of Rosenthal, he had no 
 sooner taken his seat than she said: 
 
 "Matt, there's been another horrible murder in Chi- 
 cago." 
 
 "That's no news," he said, proceeding with his break- 
 fast. "There's a murder in Chicago every daj^ and some 
 times two." He was nearly through with his morning meal, 
 when he picked up the paper. At the first glance he saw 
 the headlines referring to the murder of Rosenthal, and he 
 could hardly disguise his agitation. As a law-abiding citizen 
 it was somewhat repellant to him, and he thought seriously 
 over the matter. Addressing his sister, he said : 
 
 "Rachel, isn't it strange that Robert never wrote while 
 he has been away, now over two weeks? I wonder if he 
 wrote to his people." 
 
 "No, I was there last night, and his mother was com- 
 plaining of his neglect." 
 
 Howard began to study, his mind reverting to the kill- 
 ing of Sadie Blomgarten. The coroner's verdict had set 
 his mind at rest on that question. He believed Robert Ilill 
 was in no way implicated in it, and he felt relieved, but 
 
PEACE REIGNS IN B 315 
 
 now the Rosenthal case revived his suspicions. He remem- 
 bered Hill's oath to be revenged for the frightful wrong 
 which had been done his sister and like a flash it came to 
 his mind that on the occasion of his going to Robert's house 
 to inquire why he had abstained from visiting them, he 
 noticed Robert in the little workshop in the act of adjust- 
 ing a noose on a piece of sash cord, and he remembered 
 Robert's haste in placing it in a drawer when he came in 
 upon him unawares. So he arrived at the conclusion that 
 his old comrade was the perpetrator of both those crimes. 
 
 A tear welled up in his eyes as he thought of his dead 
 sweetheart lying cold in her grave, and of those two beings 
 done to death as the authors of her misfortune, and his 
 broken heart. He looked across the table at his sister, 
 young and virtuous, and his heart was steeled. 
 
 "By God!" he said to himself, "if such had happened 
 Rachel I would have acted as Robert has done if I had the 
 courage and determination that he has. He has but meted 
 out a fitting punishment to the monsters." 
 
 * ' I am very anxious to hear from Robert, ' ' he said aloud, 
 as he left the table abruptly, without any comment on what 
 he read in the paper, a subject on which Rachel expected 
 him to dwell as part of their table talk. 
 
 Matthew Howard spent forty-eight anxious hours in 
 waiting to hear from his friend. He was afraid something 
 ill might have befallen him. On the third day, in sorting 
 his mail, he observed a letter from New York. He knew 
 the handwriting on the envelope and hastily ripped it open 
 — it was from his boyhood companion, and read as follows: 
 
 "New York, . 
 
 Mr. Matthew Howard. 
 
 Friend Matt: — I suppose you'll never forgive me for 
 
316 PEACE REIGNS IN B 
 
 not writing to you before this. Tlie facts are, I haven't had 
 time to write, I have been so busy visiting the wonders in 
 this great metropolis. I am trying to see every thing worth 
 seeing: the docks with all their shipping, the great trans- 
 Atlantic vessels, so different to those your parents and mine 
 came over in, Castle Garden, where my pai-ents first put 
 foot on our shores. I don't know whether yours came 
 through there or not, it's a very busy place, and I was very 
 much interested in the sights I saw there. New York has 
 magnificent buildings, churches and theatres. And as for 
 Coney Island, that's a summer resort worth coming all the 
 way from our town to see ; but, when I get home, I will tell 
 you all about it. I am having a splendid time, and never 
 felt better. Give my love to Rachel and all the members of 
 the family, not forgetting yourself. 
 
 Your old friend and boyhood companion, 
 
 Robert Hill." 
 
 He had no sooner read the letter than he left all other 
 correspondence unopened, and went to the dining room, 
 where he knew his breakfast was waiting. Taking his seat, 
 Rachel began to pour out the coffee. 
 
 "I have got a letter from Bob at last," he said, address- 
 ing his sister. 
 
 "Where is he?" she inquired anxiously. "Does he say 
 when he is coming home?" 
 
 "He's in New York. I'll read you his letter." 
 
 She listened attentively, a smile of gladness illuming 
 her face as he proceeded. When he came to that part "Give 
 my love to Rachel" he paused, and, glancing at his sister, a 
 blush came over her face. "And all the members of the 
 family," he continued. 
 
 Of those she had no jealousy. That latter part was 
 
PEACE KEIGNS IN B 317 
 
 merely formal, but "Give my love to Rachel" made her 
 heart beat faster. 
 
 "He don't say when he's coming back?" remarked 
 Rachel. 
 
 "He won't be long now," remarked her brother. "I 
 am glad Bob is having so good a time." 
 
 When Matt got back to his office he picked up the 
 envelope and, comparing the time on the letter head with 
 the date of its mailing in New York, saw a discrepancy of 
 two days. "I didn't think it was in Bob," he communed 
 within himself. 
 
 Two days following the first letter from Hill, Matt 
 Howard found another in his mail. It was addressed to 
 Rachel Howard. When he handed it to her he noticed the 
 eagerness with which she received it. She was about to 
 place it in her pocket, so as to enjoy reading it in the 
 privacy of her own room. 
 
 "Read it," said Matt, smiling at her. 
 
 Her face flushed. She thought there might be some 
 tender sentiment in it exclusively for herself. She opened 
 the letter and commenced to read, intending to skip any part 
 too sacred to be shared in by any than herself. It read: 
 
 "Boston, . 
 
 Miss Rachel Howard. 
 
 My Dear Rachel: — I presume, before you receive this, 
 Matt has informed you where I was and how I was passing 
 my time. Well, I did New York to a finish, saw and took 
 in everything I thought worth seeing, and took a trip by 
 boat to Boston, a delightful journey. This old quaint city 
 differs much from the more modern communities; its 
 crooked, narrow streets and ancient buildings. It has, how- 
 ever, hallowed memories and landmarks that every Ameri- 
 
318 PEACE REIGNS IN B 
 
 can should revere. As we are taught, it was the Cradle of 
 Liberty, 'twas here the colonists were most aggressive against 
 British tyranny. 'Twas here the Battle of Bunker Hill was 
 fought. 'Twas here the patriots had their monster tea 
 party when they threw hundreds of chests of tea into the 
 bay before they would pay the tax on it. They were men 
 in those days, with the courage and determination to oppose 
 a wrong even at the risk of their lives. All honor to them. 
 But I will have to defer further, until I have the opportunity 
 to recount all my experiences since I left our good town 
 of B . And I will conclude by telling you I am begin- 
 ning to get homesickness, and long to be back again with 
 you and all those I love. I will leave here in a couple of 
 days for Chicago, where I have to make arrangements for the 
 shipping of the tombstone to be placed over Martha's grave, 
 as I have been notified it has been ready for some time and 
 they are waiting my instructions to ship it. "Will write from 
 Chicago what day you may expect me home. 
 Your devoted friend, 
 
 Robert Hill." 
 
 At the conclusion of the reading of the letter Matt 
 looked at his sister and smiled. 
 
 "A very business-like letter. Sis, not the kind of one 
 you expected." She blushed. He had hit the mark. She 
 was glad to hear from Robert whom as a man she loved and 
 as a boy she and Martha had pegged with tufts of grass and 
 stones in the pool where he and her brother were bathing, 
 so as to irritate them. 
 
 Four days later, another letter arrived. It was brief, 
 and addressed to Matthew Howard: 
 
 "Chicago, . 
 
 Friend Matt: — Will leave for home by the noon train 
 
PEACE REIGNS IN B 319 
 
 tomorrow. Have had stone crated and forwarded by freight. 
 
 I hope you will like it when you see it. It is massive, and the 
 
 wording on it, the sentiment, the arrangement and style of 
 
 letters please me very much. I am well satisved with it 
 
 and believe you and Rachel will approve of it when you 
 
 see it. o- 1 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 Robert Hill." 
 
 After Matt had read the letter to his sister, he said : 
 
 "Now, Rachel, as I am going to meet Bob tomorrow 
 and bring him here, if he is willing to come, I want you to 
 prepare a nice lunch. Probably he has been so busy in 
 Chicago the last couple of days he hasn't had time to eat." 
 
 Rachel would have liked to have been the first to meet 
 him and welcome him home, but her modesty would not 
 permit, besides she had to prepare the lunch. She sincerely 
 hoped Bob Avould come to their place first, though she had 
 her misgivings. She knew what a devoted son he was, and 
 that his parents had the first claim upon him. 
 
 There was quite a group at the depot when the train 
 on which Robert Hill was expected came steaming into the 
 railway station at B . 
 
 Matt Howard and Mr. Robinson, manager of the mill, 
 had been talking together, when they heard a shout: ''Here 
 he is!" and the crowd surged toward the car where Robert 
 Hill was standing on the steps. 
 
 Matt Howard was the first to greet him, having a prior 
 claim. 
 
 *'How are you. Bob?" as they grasped hands. 
 
 "As good as a certified check of yours on our bank," 
 nodding to the cashier who, he noticed, was present, and 
 who came forward to shake hands with him, as did Mr. 
 Robinson and a number present. 
 
320 PEACE REIGNS IN B 
 
 "Hello, there's mother!" he said, as the old lady was 
 making her way to embrace her son. When they met he 
 lifted her off her feet, and hugged and kissed her until tears 
 of joy welled up in her eyes. 
 
 ''How's pa?" he asked. 
 
 *'He is fairly well, and wanted to come and meet you, 
 but I wouldn't let him. You know he has a difficulty in 
 walking. ' ' 
 
 "That's right, mother. You always took good care of 
 him." The old lady smiled at the compliment. 
 
 "I want you to come over to my house," remarked 
 Howard. "Rachel has prepared a little lunch." 
 
 Hill looked at his mother. "What say you, mother? 
 Will you excuse me for about an hour?" 
 
 "Yes, you can go, but don't stay long — your father is 
 anxious to see you." 
 
 "Then you excuse me to him and you can tell him that 
 I am O. K. and considerably improved since he saw me last." 
 
 Rachel Howard stood at the door waiting the coming 
 of a welcome guest. When Hill reached her he extended his 
 hand. 
 
 "Well, Rachel," he said, "how are you?" Her face 
 lit up with pleasure as she extended her hand to the big, 
 brawny man, who looked the picture of health and vigor. 
 
 "Very well, Mr. Hill." 
 
 "What! have you forgotten my name already? I used 
 to be Bob in the old days." 
 
 "Yes, or Robert," she said, flushing, "but now you are 
 a big man." 
 
 "Yes, Racliel, and you're a young lady. Hence the 
 reserve." 
 
 She led the way to the dining room, where a substantial 
 spread awaited their guest. 
 
PEACE REIGNS IN B 321 
 
 "This seems to be made to measure," remarked Bob, 
 looking over the well-supplied table. "Who's the cook?" 
 
 "I am," Rachel blurted out without a thought. 
 
 "Then you deserve a diploma," he said, smiling at her. 
 
 She colored up, and her brother Matt laughed at her 
 discomfiture. 
 
 During the meal the two men chatted freely. Matt 
 
 about happenings in B while Hill was away, and Hill 
 
 in turn gave some of his experiences during his travels. 
 Rachel, an interested listener, was seemingly absorbed in 
 Hill's narrative. 
 
 At the parting Hill held Rachel's hand in his while he 
 looked into her eyes. She gazed at him in admiration. Bob 
 would have liked to kiss her, but Matt stood in the way. 
 So he refrained. 
 
 At the Hill homestead there was a general jollification. 
 The proverbial fatted calf had been killed, but not for a 
 wayward son. Mr. Robinson and other neighbors came in 
 to shake hands with the illustrious traveler and pass a few 
 complimentary remarks, welcoming him home. Bob Hill's 
 spirit M^as jubilant. He joked with the girls, and thanked 
 the men for their kindly expressions. Father and mother 
 had little to say. They feasted their eyes on their stalwart 
 son and hung on every word he said till late in the evening. 
 The following morning Hill was the first man at the 
 mill. He inspected the machinery and found every thing 
 in working order, tapped his brother Bill on the shoulder 
 and complimented him on his excellent management. Mr. 
 Robinson came in and his first expression was to inquire 
 what Bob was doing around there today. 
 
 "I was just looking over things to see if everything was 
 all right." 
 
 "Never better," remarked Robinson, cheerfully. "You 
 
322 PEACE REIGNS IN B 
 
 will have to look to your laurels, or Bill will get away with 
 them," smiling at Bob's younger brother, who stood de- 
 murely aside. 
 
 Bob smiled his approval of his brother's ability. 
 
 "I'll want the use of a dray today," said Hill, address- 
 ing Mr, Robinson. "The tombstone I have had made to put 
 on our lot will be in this afternoon." 
 
 "Help yourself, Bob," was Robinson's answer. "You 
 know what you need." 
 
 "I have the dimensions for the foundation, and I will 
 have to get the masons to work, so I'll leave you for the 
 present. ' ' 
 
 "Can I be of any service to you?" inquired Robinson, 
 as he was leaving. 
 
 "You can come around when we are getting it on the 
 truck and give your advice." 
 
 Robert Hill soon had willing workers, and the founda- 
 tion was laid in accordance with his instructions. 
 
 The massive stone lay on a flat car in the freight depot. 
 It was covered with strong canvas and a wooden casing so 
 as to prevent it from being chipped in transit. The strong- 
 est truck belonging to the mill, with four powerful per- 
 cherons, were there to haul it. A number of the friends and 
 neighbors were interested lookers on, among them Matt 
 Howard and Mr. Robinson. Hill himself superintended the 
 transfer from the flat car to the truck. He saw that it was 
 first carefully jacked up, then sturdy beams put under it, 
 on which rollers were placed. Robert then had strong ropes 
 attached to the massive stone and hitched around a con- 
 venient post, so that it could not possibly get away from 
 them while running down the incline between the flat car 
 and the truck. When all was arranged to his satisfaction 
 he seized a jack and, mounting the car in which it stood, 
 
PEACE REIGNS IN B 323 
 
 looked back at Mr. Robinson, who had the rope hitched 
 around the post. 
 
 "Now look out, Mr. Robinson," he said, and, giving 
 the jack a few turns so as to give the massive stone a start, 
 it slid down gently on the rollers while Mr. Robinson slack- 
 ened the rope. 
 
 ''Well done, Bob!" exclaimed his crowd of admirers, 
 when they saw the ponderous mass of granite planted evenly 
 and firmly on the two pieces of lumber which rested on the 
 truck, elevating the tombstone so as to permit ropes to be 
 placed under it while being lifted to the foundation pre- 
 pared to receive it. 
 
 On a start being made for the graveyard the crowd 
 followed, increasing as they went along, Rachel Howard 
 among them. Robert Hill, seeing her, went toward her, and 
 walked by her side. Arriving at the graveyard, there was 
 a considerable group there in advance, among them Hill's 
 father and mother and most of the members of the Hill and 
 Howard families. 
 
 The horses hauling the load went gallantly along till 
 they reached the graveyard. When they struck a soft place 
 on the sod, one of the hind wheels of the truck sank in the 
 soft earth and the horses were unable to move it. The 
 driver plied his whip, and shouted to his horses, but it was 
 of no avail. Mr. Robinson took the whip from the driver 
 to flog the horses into making a further effort. 
 
 "Excuse me, Rachel," said Hill, leaving her side. 
 
 "Wait a moment," signaling to the driver, who was 
 still shouting to his horses to gid up. "Bring me some of 
 those planks," addressing the onlookers, pointing to a pile 
 of lumber that was some little distance away. On the planks 
 being brought, he placed some of them in position to rest 
 a jack on and lift the sunken end of the truck. This done, 
 
324 PEACE REIGNS IN B 
 
 he placed a stout plank for the wheel to run on and gave the 
 signal to the driver to go ahead. The driver shouted to his 
 horses, which started off at a run. 
 
 ''Keep them going!" roared Bob, who ran behind the 
 truck. No further mishap occurred on the way to Martha's 
 grave, where shear legs were all ready in position to lift the 
 stone from the truck to the foundation ready to receive it. 
 
 The mason stood by to see to the proper placing and 
 squaring of the stone. In a brief time the ropes were at- 
 tached, the stone hoisted and swung until it was over its 
 resting place. The mason gave orders to lower it slowly, 
 he steadying and guiding it into place. After making some 
 little alteration in the leveling, he gave the signal to lower, 
 and the monument placed to the memory of Martha Hill 
 rested firml}^ on its bed. 
 
 The mason with his hammer broke off tlie lumber placed 
 to protect the corners and nothing but the canvas cover 
 remained. It was so attached that the pulling of a string 
 would loosen it so as to fall below the base. 
 
 Robert Hill was seen escorting Rachel Howard to where 
 the string was attached. He stood by while she pulled the 
 cord, the canvas fell as arranged, and the magnificent tomb- 
 stone was in plain view. 
 
 A buzz of approval could be heard. " It 's magnificent ! ' * 
 said some; "Splendid!" said others as they surged forward 
 to read the inscription. "She was well worthy of it," said 
 the Rev. Mr. Peterson, who was an interested spectator. 
 
 It was a beautiful summer's day. The sun shone reful- 
 gent in the heavens. All nature seemed to have been inter- 
 ested in making the day and the surroundings pleasant and 
 harmonious. 
 
 The birds in the trees warbled as if in jubilation. 
 
Ix All'.MOKIAM 
 
PEACE REIGNS IN B 325 
 
 The flowers on the graves were in full bloom, but no 
 grave in all the cemetery had so rare, so profuse, or so 
 beautiful a display as that which adorned the resting place 
 of Martha Hill. 
 
 It took long for the crowd to disperse, as all were eager 
 to read the inscription on the stone. 
 
 Rachel Howard went and sat on an adjacent tomb. 
 "Woman-like she had to shed a few tears. At length none 
 remained but she and Robert. Many, knowing the friend- 
 ship between them, retired out of respect, until at length 
 they were alone. Hill, seeing her seated, went and sat 
 beside her. 
 
 "What do you think of it, Rachel?" he inquired. 
 
 " It 's beautiful, ' ' she answered, placing her handker- 
 chief to her eyes. 
 
 "I am satisfied," he said. "There is now only one 
 thing on earth I crave for." 
 
 "What is that, Robert?" 
 
 "Yourself." 
 
 She placed her arm around his neck, he drew her toward 
 him and, in an ardent embrace, fervently kissed her more 
 than willing lips. 
 
PC 
 
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