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'Blinding Blasts" ; "Answer to Don Carlos," etc. 



Entered according to Act of Congress 
the year 1906, by G. E. STEVENS & CO. 
in the office of the Librarian of Congress 
Washington, D. C. 

Copyright applied for at 
Stationers' Hall, London, England. 



to the citizens of Chicago 
who are helping to redeem theif beautiful city 

and to* those who suffered 
during the great carnival of crime. 








Piano 2 Karat Diamond Ring Summer Cottage 
" Toe Pad" Carriage Gold Watches, Etc* Free. 

See pages 37, H3, 141,345 









A Strange Interview 17 

In An English Prison 29 

The West End Tragedy 31 

The Escape from Prison 33 

A "Boozing Ken" 36 

The Mansion 145 

"Number 49" in Chicago ;.. 149 

Sentiment True and Otherwise; Dorris, the Compact 154 

News from London 162 

Tells of a Strange Death, Will and Clock 167 

"Wicked Trick of Wicked City"; The "Bowery" Against the 

"Levee" 176 

At Sunny Side 181 

A Clever Scheme 184 

The "Mysterious Clock" at Ivy Cottage 191 

The Wind from the East 193 

Uncontrolled Passion 198 

The "Break OTJay Gambler" and Wage Earners 201 

The Story Teller and the Watchers: True Hearts and True 

Love 203 

A Threat; The Jester's Bells 207 

Dorris Confides in Her Mother 209 

The Fatal Hour Arrives 212 

Mrs. Waite's Agony 215 

The Clock Divulges a Secret 218 

Happiness Within; Misery Without; A Last Appeal; As the 

Chimes Told the Hour 221 






A West Side Gambling House; Penniless and Desperate 223 

On the Bridge 227 

A Knight of the Road 228 

The Underground Den 232 

A Bold Proposition 236 

Bandits of "Wicked City" 239 

Dividing the Spoils 240 

Louis Palmello of Cuba ; "Break O'Day Retreat" 243 

Two Grooms and One Bride 246 

The Abduction and Pursuit 250 

Clattering Hoofs on the Highway 256 

A Heroic Attempt to Save the Innocent from Dishonor 

The Marshall Murder, etc 262 

"Long and Short" Versus the Police and Merchants 265 

Wicked City in Grip of Bandits 268 

A Heaven With But One Angel 277 

Suspects in the "Dragnet" ; The Rat-Pit 274 

The Victim of a Plot 279 

Rometto and Alex in Disguise; "Billy Skutes of Herkimer" 282 

The Veiled Mystery 287 

Dey Blin' a Fold Me an' Backa Me Offa de Boat 290 

The Rescue; A Wedding in Prison 299 

The Trial; A Rift of Silk 296 

Mounted Bandits; Mandate of the Chief; Call Only a Wagon 

from the Morgue 298 




In London 303 

"Number 49's" "Double" 306 

A Brutal Guard ; The Rusty Key ; At His Mercy 308 

The Great Chicago "Dragnet"; Proof Positive 310 

On the Crank 312 

Voice from the Grave, "COMMIT NO SIN" 315 

"Moral Degenerate" 317 

The Arrest 324 

A Double Punishment Fits the Crime 328 


The wages of sin is certain disaster and premature death. 
If you read this book understandingly it will prove this beyond 
a question of doubt. Pub. 



A sweet faced Child of the poor. 

A peaceful spot. 

Gordon in the underground den. 

Crossing the river of despair. 

As the chimes told the hour. 

A striker in despair. 

"I'm countin' my monies." 

Children of the "slums." 

A jail on wheels. 

Proving Chicago's redemption. 

An every day scene on State St. 

The poor "street boys." 

A floating gambling palace. 

From Playground to Grave. 

Playing on the verge of Hell. 

Tasting Hell's broth. 

The price. 

Palaces of the "Red Light" district. 

Types of residents. 

"Suicide Bridge." 

"Custom House Place." 

Officers traveling through troublesome times. 

The river redeemed. 

A chunk of Chicago's atmosphere. 

The white woman's burden. 

Misfortune on wheels. 

"Sister to the Ox." 

The wanderer's home. 

Fortune's Smile. 

A City tenement. 

"Brother to the Ox." 

Just arrived. 





Like a picturesque spot in Sicily. 

A musical hall. 

Visiting' Chiefs. 

A unique business. 

Merchants and Bandits. 

Poor Children's play-grounds. 

Battling for redemption. 

Fire Horses. 

Fire Department. 


The abduction. 

In the shadows of the old church. 

The Crook and the "Mysterious Clock." 

How the world receives a new idea, etc. 











SEE PAGES 37, 113, 345. 


Chicago has for years been considered the crime center of 
the world and there was a time when that impression was not al- 
together unwarranted. The city was infested with blacklegs, crooks 
and confidence men of all sorts, working their evil almost at will 
upon the high and the low, the resident citizen and the stranger as 
well. And among the business men there were men in all branches 
of trade and profession whose methods were worse than those of 
the common thug for they worked under the guise of respectability 
and virtue. Nor were these all. Among our city fathers, those 
who were placed in their positions as guardians of the public good 
and sponsors for the city's virtue, were men whose villainies and be- 
trayal of their trusts made these conditions possible and even 
padded their own purses by winking at crime and turning a deaf ear 
to the clamorings of the better classes for at least honest methods. 
Crime ran rampant; holdups by thugs and unprincipled "business 
men" were daily occurrences, and the uninitiated man was as likely 
to loose his purse in the pursuit of his legitimate business as when 
visiting the "red light" district. Possibly Chicago earned its name, 
The Wicked City. 

But there were causes for this and excuses too. The city had 
in sixty years grown from a backwoods trading post to a world 
metropolis and the regulation and governing of the millions of souls 
crowded within its limits, the segregation and control of its vicious 
classes were as impossible for the inexperienced public as the com- 
prehension of an abstruse proposition in higher mathematics for an 

Mr. Stead wrote his book and called Chicago a "Pocket edition 
of Hell ;" but should he visit the city again he will find that the devil 
and his imps have had some hard falls. Chicago today has a wide 
awake and efficient police system. Its merchants in all branches are 
organized for the cleansing of the city. The Civic Federation, for 
the betterment of its political condition. Commercial associations 
and Merchants' clubs, for the elevation of its mercantile and pro- 
fessional standing. ^ These have finally given the city good clean 
government, and, aiding the police have ridded the city of its finan 
cial and mercantile holdup men. 

But there has been a power even greater than these. The press. 
Without it their efforts would have been futile. For not only have 







they furnished publicity for the city's many evils, awakening the 
public to their city's shame but their reporters have aided the police 
in unearthing crime in all its phases. They have been responsible 
for the fixing of crimes to the guilty ones and the exposure of their 
guilt. In fact there is no better detective service on earth than that 
furnished by the enterprising Chicago press. 

All these forces working hand in hand are rapidly making a 
new Chicago. Exposures of evil of all sorts in high as well as low 
circles are continuous. God's pure sunlight is being poured into 
some of the foulest haunts the world has ever known and the 
festering evil is slowly but surely being cleansed and purified by its 
rays. But crime is not yet dead, for new conditions have to be met 
with newer methods but dishonest business men and grafting poli- 
ticians, the thug with his sand bag and the confidence man with his 
oily manner eke but a precarious living in the new Chicago. 

The foregoing remarks are, perhaps, out of the ordinary, 'but, 
"The Wicked City" is a "New Idea" book by a "New Idea" man. 
Mr. Stevens has studied for years the phase of life with which this 
book deals and his work shows a full knowledge of the subject 
differing widely from the vaporings of the stranger "sociological 
student" who visits the city for a few days and then inflicts the 
result of his observations upon the public in the form of an essay. 

The "Wicked City" is an odd story, well plotted, and written 
in an unusual way, ably mingling fact and fiction. Mr. Stevens is 
essentially a business man, and the fact is apparent in his work for 
it is his idea to give his readers a story of living breathing people 
connected with well authenticated facts of Chicago history with 
which the whole country is familiar, only making necessary changes 
of the names of the principal characters". He makes no attempt at 
idealistic rhetorical flights, and eliminating all unnecessary descrip- 
tion, through dealing with a phase of life with which few people 
are familiar. It is a real story of real life in the real true Chi- 

For this reason it is of the utmost interest to all classes of 
people ; merchants, business and professional men, in the city and 
out of it. It is of interest to all those interested in Chicago for any 
reason whatever, whether their interest be pecuniary or simply one 
which every^American has in our most representative American city, 
hustling, striving Chicago. To those having no interest in Chicago 
or the facts with which the book deals, it is simply an extremely 
clever story. 

Mr. Stevens is a descendent of the historic Lord Edward Ger- 
ald Fitz-Gerald and is related to many of the nobility of England 
today. But he is proud of the fact that he is American born and a 
successful business man of Chicago. And he is successful in that he 
is conducting a business of over $5.000,000.00 yearly without having 
sacrificed either principle or sentiment, 







Robert E. Long, alias "Number 49," escaped convict, well 
dressed, well disguised, is speeding through Chicago comfortably 
quartered in suburban train. A newsboy drifted aboard. A grim 
but humorous smile lit up the convict's face as his ' eye traveled 
quickly through the penny sheet and noted the following small 
item among the "Personals" : 

"Any person knowing the present whereabouts of Robert 

E. Long, who left his home, 2112 St., London, England, 

about three years ago to visit Paris, and last heard of there, 
will receive $2,000 reward by communicating with Gordon 
Long, Palmer House, Chicago, 111." 

"Gordon? My brother!" 

"Yes, Robert ; am I welcome ?" 

"Certainly; be seated. Please excuse my hesitation for I 
was quite surprised to see you. The man gave me to understand 
that I would find a friend waiting, but little did I expect 
to find a brother in "wicked city." How are our friends in 
London ?" 

"They are well, but my dear boy, tell me of yourself. Where 
have you been for the last two years or more? I have searched 
the world over without obtaining the slightest clew. We were 
greatly worried about you." 

"You say 'we.' Whom do you mean by 'we'?" 

"Giles for one, poor fellow, he seemed quite broken up over 
your unaccountable absence. He often saw you experimenting 
and messing around the laboratory and is under the impression 
you ate some of the compounds you mixed, and turned into an 



imp of darkness. He sticks to his theory and declares he has seen 
you in his dreams and you would return to us in the form of a 
cloven-foot devil. And say what you will, you cannot reason with 
him or shake his belief, ridiculous as it seems. This faithful old 
servant is not the only person that has grieved about you. You 
remember Mrs. Waite and her lovely daughter Dorris?" 

"Yes, quite well." Robert replied in eager questioning tone. 

"If you were a son or brother, they could not have been 
more concerned. 

"I suppose her daughter never sprinkled an eye-lash over my 

"I could not say as to that, but she seemed greatly depressed 
over your mysterious disappearance. She is really a good girl and 
loves her mother with all her heart. I am afraid she has no heart to 
bestow in any other direction. But this is not telling me where 
you have been keeping yourself." 

"I accompanied Mrs. Waite and her daughter to Paris and was 
with them until they left for America, which was earlier than they 
wished. Their departure was somewhat hastened on account of 
the unwelcome attention of a Captain Somebody, I don't remem- 
ber his name, who seemed to be an old, but unpleasant, acquaint- 
ance of Mrs. Waite. I did not happen to meet him, but Miss 
Dorris said he was very persistent in his advances toward her 
mother and herself. After their departure I took a trip to Monte 
Carlo and have spent most of my time since in Spain and recently 
came from Cuba." 

"But, my dear Robert, why in all this time have you not com- 
municated with us?" 

"Gordon, do not ask me to tell you the reason. I am different 
from the Robert of old. 

"I can see no change. You are pale and look somewhat older. 
I see no other," Gordon declared. 

"Yes, I know you can see no change in me, but there is a change. 
The first change I noted was when we were mere youths of nine- 
teen. Up to that time I guess there was not a more God-fearing 
or righteous boy in miles of travel around old London, unless it was 
yourself, Gordon ; but since that night of Halloween when we came 
in from an evening's jolly fun, and met old Giles flying past us on 
a run, thinking our father was ill or perhaps dying, we ran to his 
room, and not finding him there, we looked all over the big house 
and at last found him bending over the bed on which lay Giles' 
wife, dying. She was feebly urging him to agree to something. Do 
you remember, Gordon?" 

"Yes, and he shook his grey head and cried out in anguish : 
'No, my good woman, you ask too much. I love both of my boys. 
How am I to tell them that one is the offspring of a father, who in 
wild and immoral passion, so far forgot the duty he owed to the 
saintly mother of the other as to bring about this, the result of his 
perfidy and unfaithfulness! They would despise me, both of them 


would hate me their unnatural father. Don't ask this, Mary. You 
are not going to die, you have not sinned, you are not responsible 
for my sin. I must bear this alone.' 'No, no, no ! It be this secret 
Oie 'ave on me 'eart. Master, Oie must confess it afore Oie die. 
Ef Oie don't, my poor old body will twist and squirm in the grave. 
Tell 'em, Master, tell 'em yourself or send 'em to me an Oie will, 
for they shall know the truth afore Oie die, ef God spares me 
till they come. Send for 'em, Master, for Oie am going fast !' Then 
father says : 'Mary, you will not die, Giles will be here soon with 
the doctor. He will see you through again as he did before.' 'No, 
no, Master, Oie be dying.' Then, Robert, I remember your face, 
how white and changed it was as you boldly stepped around the 
big bed into view and our father raised his bent form only to totter 
back and sink into a chair. 'Boys,' he cried, 'what have you heard?' 
'We have heard all, sir,' you answered; and I think the tone of 
your voice cut him to the quick for he grew paler than the poor 
old nurse on the bed, but not a word did he say until old Mary 
had told us over again that one of us was an illegitimate child. 
'Which is the unfortunate one?' you asked her and she says, 'Oie 
do not know. Oh, God, that Oie did, for Oie am sure that your 
poor father will not tell you.' 'No, Mary, I can not tell them now ; 
but when they are men they shall know. I promise you that.' An 
expression of relief passed over the simple old creature's face, which 
was growing grey and ashen, as she continued : 'Robert, I think you 
are the unfortunate one, but Oie am not sure. It might be Gordon.' 
Then as I saw death would claim her in a very few moments, I 
whispered to you to ask her of the mother. 'She wus my mistress,' 
the dying nurse answered, 'and a beautiful lady, too. It was Oie that 
brought 'er to this very 'ouse and you wus born 'ere in the old 
wing while Mrs. Long was sick in the white chamber where she 
died after giving birth to one of vou, I don't know which. You 
was nursed by my mistress till you wus old enuf to be left with 
me for she went away, poor mistress, and Oie never seed her to this 
day. Oie am sure she is dea Oh, God, Oie am going, my secret is 
told. Robert and Gordon, you forgive an old woman who meant 
no 'arm?' Then we each took one of her old withered hands and 
assured her that she had done no wrong ; and if she imagined that 
she had, we freely forgave her. Placing my hand on her forehead, 
I felt the death dampness gathering and her hands were growing 
rigid in ours. Her breath was coming and going with irregular 
gasps and loud rattles of the throat. This awful scene of death, the 
first we ever looked upon, completely unnerved me; but you were 
more collected and looking steadily at our father who sat with 
bowed head said: 'Father, who was she? Explain.' But a deathlike 
stillness invaded the chamber. It grew oppressive. Again you 
asked this question and receiving no reply turned to the bed of 
dear old nurse who had been like a mother to us. The last faint 
spark of intelligence was revived for a moment and she struggled 
desperately for utterance; but it failed her and she would never 
speak again. We kissed and folded her hands over the motionless 
breast. Then assisting our poor, humiliated, grief-stricken father to 


rise, we half carried him to his room where we left him in silence 
with the tears glistening in his eyes. Giles came with the doctoi 
whom we conducted into the presence of the living who was suffer- 
ing untold agony from remorse, while we left Giles with his dead 
who had ceased to suffer and lay with a look of relief and con 
tent on her homely, honest old face, brought about by being abl< 
to relieve her mind of the secret she had kept so many years." 

"Yes, you tell it well, Gordon, and it was after this scene that 
you have so truly portrayed that I felt there was a change in me. 
All the evil passions seemed to rise to the surface and for the 
moment consume the good impulses that predominated before. The 
evil has been gradually crowding out and usurping the place of 
good and if it keeps on crowding and crowding the good out, it 
will be all evil. What would be the result?" 

"Well, my brother, I cannot -bring myself to believe such a con 
dition of affairs possible in your case for there is too much good 
in you. As boys together, we shared each others every thought and 
our hearts were as open as the Holy Book to be read by each 
other; and I am sure up to this death-bed scene which revealed 
the awful mistake of the father we had both loved and respected, 
you were at the apex of all that was generous and good ; but since 
then I noticed you became a little wild and I was also somewhat 
changed, but, we are men now, Robert, and I know with the good 
that is in you, you will be proof against alHnvasion of evil. Any- 
how evil will never be the reigning power in your case. But in 
answer to your question proper, in case of the event you so much 
fear, you would be what is termed a moral degenerate." 

"A 'moral degenerate !' " 

"Oh, Robert, my brother, you should not liken yourself to such 
Why such morbid fancies? Such a thing would be impossible 
utterly out of the question. There was too much good in you as a 
youth. You do yourself an injustice by countenancing such a 
thought. Cast aside such morbid fancies. You have been among 
strangers too much. You are among friends now and with a broth 
er's love, too." 

"Gordon, I cannot accept a brother's love from you. Neither 
am I entitled to it for, to be candid with you, there is no love in my 
heart for you. By intuition, I know that you are the son of an hon- 
orable and saintly mother, while I am the result of a woman's 
duplicity and a man's weakness, or vice versa as it may be. Did we 
not read in our Bible, which we used to believe so implicitly, that 
'evil begets evil, and that which is born of evil, evil will be'? I can- 
not help it, Gordon, but there is evil in my heart, an evil I can not 
control. I fail to find any love in my heart for you. That is proof 
enough that evil predominates. There is only one thing I care for 
on this earth that is Dorris Waite ; and when I discovered that she 
had a preference for you, Gordon, I hated you almost as much as I 
had loved you before." 

"Well, Robert, this is indeed sad news to hear. I did not dream 
that you were also in love with this saintly girl, and your heart 
steeled against me as you believe. Are you not mistaken? Is there 


no brotherly feeling in it for me? Don't you think now that we are 
together that this old antipathy will be crowded out and a better 
feeling will prevail instead?'' 

Thinking rapidly a moment, Robert arose to his feet and took a. 
couple of turns across the rich carpet. Gordon arose also and 
watched his face which seemed to be communing with the heart 
within. He watched him with an eager expectant look as though a 
life depended upon the next word to fall from those tightly com- 
pressed lips. Robert brought up in front of him. Gordon could 
read the answer in his eyes before the lips below could frame it. 

"Don't say you can't Robert." 

"Gordon, I have searched the very deepest recesses of my heart 
and I can find love there for only one person in this unjust world." 

"And that is ?" Gordon asked the question although know- 
ing full well the answer. 

"Dorris Waite," Robert replied. "All the good feeling left in 
my heart is bound up in the memory of her sweet face. She alone 
could redeem me and drive out the evil that controls me; but I am 
satisfied her love is given to you." 

Gordon's face, up to this time white to the lips, showed color as 
Robert suggested the possibility of her loving him. 

"No, Robert, you are mistaken. She does not love me any 
more than she does you. Would to God she could learn to love one 
of us ! I would even welcome death in preference to a refusal when 
the time comes that I can feel justified in asking her hand." Gor- 
don's voice had become husky and broken. He changed the subject 
by inquiring, "Robert, do you still gamble?" 

"Yes the passion I formed for it in England and France still 
sticks to me." 

"You lost a great deal of money learning the game, did you not, 
Robert ?" 

"Well, yes, it did cost me something to learn the great American 
game they call poker, but the most of the money I lost in England 
was at baccarat. I lost all the money the old gentleman left me to 
live upon for three years, or until the clock would speak its piece. 
I left the game 28,000 loser." 

"So much as that, Robert? Our father left us only 20,000 
apiece. You must have won some before this time you speak of." 

"Yes, I won 9,000, 8.000 of which I lost that evening along with 
the 20,000. I lost the 2,000 you lent me. Then after that I lost 
5,000 you 'staked' me to accompany Mrs. Waite and Miss Waite to 
Paris on." 

"You lost it at Paris, then? Do they play much baccarat there?" 

"No, not as much as they do in London. I lost the 5,000 learn- 
ing the game I expect to indulge in this evening the great American 
game of poker a game that any gentleman can take a hand at with- 
out lessening his estimated worth morally, although it may lower 
what he is estimated to be worth in a financial way. Wouldn't you 
like to accompany me and take a hand yourself?" Robert asked this 
question knowing full well what the answer would be. 


"No, Robert, I am still sticking to the old principles of our 
younger days. I neither gamble, drink nor associate myiself with 
evil, if I am aware that it is evil." 

"Well, you had better not associate with me, then, my scrupu- 
lous brother, for I am all that is evil." 

"Ah, Robert, you are jesting. Were you not also jesting when 
you said you had looked into the recesses of your heart and could 
find no love, no brotherly feeling, for me there, I who have always 
loved you so dearly?" 

"No, Gordon, 1 am afraid it is the truth." 

"Why is this? Is all feeling dead within you?" 

"I am afraid it is, unless it is with one exception." 

"And that is ?" 

"I would sooner not discuss the subject. I presume you have 
something to say and as I have but a short time to listen, you had 
better fire away." This was said in a quick, curt tone, a tone that 
cut Gordon to the heart. 

"Robert, is it possible that you are the same one who, as a lad, 
used to be so kind, so sympathetic, so generous and manly? Then 
you used to fight my battles for me, help me with my lessons, take 
my lickings, but now oh, my brother, you do not treat me even 
with the courtesy due a business acquaintance." 

"Well, what can you expect of the spawn from the sources that 
are accountable for my existence? I am apart from the world. I 
am not of it, unless I am among the element my birth rates me for." 

"What element do you refer to?" 

"Why the element in which you find the thief, the harlot, the 
drunkard, the bastard, the confidence-man, the thug, the murderer, 
the man who lives on the shame of a woman, and last, but not least, 
the man who owes a duty to one woman and forgets it to enjoy the 
favors of another the adulterer." 

While he was speaking, Gordon could see the demon within fly 
to the surface and as quickly return to its old seat by his passion 
suppressed heart to keep the fire smouldering. Long suppressed 
passion and years of suppressed action form a combination that is 
dangerous when it breaks its bounds. When Robert had ceased 
speaking, Gordon was satisfied he had only found his brother to 
lose him again and to lose him in a way more trying than the real 
death of the body. 

"Robert, it is true. You satisfy me beyond a doubt that I have 
indeed lost your love, but let me not lose your society and if there 
is any little favor I can do for you, you will always please me by 
stating it. I think this morbid fancy you have, that you are the ille- 
gitimate son, is what is working this great change, and I can not see 
why you are so positive. It is an even chance that I am to suffer 
for our father's crime and not you, although you seem so positive ; 
so if that is in reality what is working this great change in you, I 
would try and cheer up a little. Let a little sunshine into your heart. 
Hope for the best and don't be so positive of the worst until the 
fatal day arrives which proves the truth of all that which we both 


"Dread, you say, Gordon? You may dread, but I, 1ia-ha, I 
dread nothing 1 . I have thoroughly accustomed myself to the idea 
and the belief that I am the one. Dorris does not know anything 
about this, does she? You have not been so foolish as to tell her 
or her mother?" 

"No, I have told them no more than they -already knew of the 
matter while in London. They understand that the mysterious 
clock holds the secret of which one is to be the heir, but outside of 
that, I believe they know nothing. I am sure father would have 
no reason to tell Mrs. Waite, as he was only slightly acquainted with 
her, haying met her at her marriage to Mr. Waite, whom he had 
known in a business way ; and the reason father sent for her was to 
straighten out some business regarding the property he owns here. 
Mr. Waite was his attorney and agent here, and it was necessary for 
her to come to him in person in order to legally transfer her trusts 
to his lawyers in London." 

"Yes, I remember. She was only up to see the Governor once 
with the lawyers to sign some papers and make some transfers. He 
could not have "told her anything and the lawyers certainly wouldn't. 
It's a good thing Mrs. Waite does not know for if she did I guess 
she would not tolerate your attentions to her daughter, for I sup- 
pose you have paid her many visits in the last two years." 

"Well, yes, Robert, I have made a goodlnany visits, but I hope 
you believe me more honorable than to press my suit until I am 
positive that I have the right, as an honorable man. No, it would 
not be just or right for either one of us until we know the truth. 
So we are not rivals at all, for only one of us will have any right 
to claim her hand in marriage, if she should so honor us with her 
consent, which I think is doubtful for all her love seems to be given 
to her dear mother, who is the kindest and most pleasant of ladies." 

"Well, you are entitled to think as you like, and do as you like, 
Gordon, but as for myself, I shall _not let any such fine sentiments 
stand in the way of winning her, if it is in my power. She need 
never know that either one of us is a bastard. Of course, if I am 
the one, as I am positive I am, I would not have anything to support 
her on, but I would make a living for her with the paste-boards." 

"Ah, Robert, why will you talk so harsh of yourself and your 
intentions? I am sure you cannot mean what you say. It would 
mean that you would press your suit even if you were proved to be 
the illegitimate son, and that you would marry her and support her 
by gambling, if I understood your meaning of the 'paste-boards,' 
and blight that pure, sweet, innocent life. You can. not mean it Rob- 
ert. What you imagine is love in your _heart for her is only pas- 
sion, a passion that will burn itself out in a short time. You cer- 
tainly can not love her as I do, for I have learned to love her by 
degrees, more and more every visit I have made, which have been 
many and I am sure it is an everlasting love, a love that would 
always keep her life as full of happiness as it is now for she is 
supremely happy with her mother, her home and her pets. She is 
like a tender young rose-bud which to transplant might cause it to 
wither and die, unless it were transplanted in the garden of eternal 


love and not the hot-bed of passion, around which are the elements 
of which you speak, if you fail to succeed to the estates and the 
good name that goes with them. You couldn't do it Robert, and 
when you see her again, which you will if you accompany me to- 
morrow, you will think better of it. It will be a desecration to 
pure humanity if you should succeed in putting your ideas into 

"Well, Gordon, I hardly know you are right, I presume, if 
we should consider right; but my father did not consider my right, 
and I do not see why I should consider what is right regarding 
others. But then, we will let it go. I hardly know my own heart, 
and it is hard to tell what I should do. Anyway, if we do not 
understand each other, this talk has illustrated to you just what I 
was telling you a few moments ago. As a bastard, I can not marry 
or associate with an honorable lady. I must consort with my kind, 
and the kind I spring from fallen women, probably. I speak 
plainly my beliefs." 

Gordon's face was the picture of sorrow and compassion as 
Robert finished his bitter, but nevertheless, true speech, true in part. 
He made no reply for some moments, in the meantime studying the 
other intently as if he would fathom his soul. Then he spoke, his 
voice low and tender, but troubled. 

"Robert, I have been thinking, thinking deeply; and the more 
I think of this fearful condition of affairs, brought about by the 
father we both so dearly loved, and the present bitter condition of 
your heart, it almost unmans me. God, give me strength to do 
right! I wish to be just. I want to do what is best for those I 
love. I love you, my brother, and I also love Dorris. God bless 
the image of her I hold in my heart ! I love you both, Robert, and 
if I had the remotest idea that it would be best for her and best for 
you also to marry, I believe I would relinquish all my hopes and 
further your chances to win her. But, Robert, you deceive your- 
self. You have expressed yourself plainly to me and I will do so in 
return. What you believe is love is only passion, animal passion, 
which would not last and in time you would both be very unhappy." 

"No, I don't agree with you there, Gordon. The memory of 
her has sunk deep down in my heart. The only tender thought I 
have is when I think of her as I knew her in London and Paris." 

"Yes, but don't you see? If you loved her as you imagine, 
you would have crossed the water to see her before this. Your love 
for gambling is stronger than your love for her. Does that not 
prove it to you?" 

"No, for I could not come sooner. I would have been here all 
the time, most likely, if I could." 

"You say if you could? Now just listen to reason. My dear 
brother, don't you see that this proves it to be only a passion for 
the time being while you were with her there; and again aroused 
when you are near her again here. If you love her as you think 
you do, or as I do in reality, there is nothing that would have kept 
you away from America and least of all have kept you from writing 


when they were so anxious to hear from you. No, no, it is not love, 
and you would not make yourself happy or her either." 

As Gordon spoke, Robert thought of the most efficient reason 
for his not appearing or writing in the last two years and a bitter, 
frosty smile crept into his face. 

"There were reasons, Gordon, which I cannot discuss with you. 
Remember there is sometimes a wheel within a wheel. We will 
not discuss the question any further, if you please. My time is 
growing very limited. I suppose you are taking good care of the 
clock which is playing such a prominent part in our lives?" 

"Yes. Oh, by the way, while you were away someone entered 
the lawyer's office and, breaking into the vault, stole the clock and 
some 400 with it." 

"Is that possible? Then you haven't it?" 

"Yes, I got it safe and sound, but not for some time after." 

"How did you find it?" 

"I advertised for it, giving description and offering a reward. 
About three months later it was returned by the keeper of a refresh- 
ment place who claimed a young fellow left it there to raffle off. 
He never showed up again, but somebody called his attention to my 
advertisement and that is how it found its way back. I made up 
my mind that I would keep it on the mantle. The lawyers were 
glad to shift the responsibility and so there it has been ever since, 
safe and found." 

"Did it lose any time while it was away from the vault?" 

"No, not if we can depend on what the man 'Butch' says. He 
claims it was running and keeping perfect time for his Customers 
who admired it very much ; but I doubt if his customers ever saw 
it for I think he was the thief himself. The lawyers would have 
prosecuted him if I had sanctioned it. He was an ugly looking cus- 
tomer and I shouldn't like to meet him on a dark night with the 
chances in his favor." 

"I suppose that our faithful old Giles will take good care of it 
while you are away?" 

"Yes, he has always taken good care of it ; but it was hard to 
get him even to touch it, he was so superstitious on account of its 
running right along for months without being wound. He believes 
there is something supernatural connected with it." Robert laughed, 
"Yea, he even imagines the mechanical arrangements which are so 
extensive are operated and run by the invisible hands of some spirit. 
When I came back from my first trip over here, the dust was quite 
thick on the bronze and gold trappings of the angel that stands 
guard on the top. He had been afraid to dust that part of it, while 
the rest he had kept scrupulously clean. I had quite a time to get 
him to dust the angel top-piece. He claimed that if he touched it, 
it would disappear and carry the clock and all with it to keep time 
for the 'blessed folks as was above.' " Robert laughed again. 

"How long since you heard from him?" 

"Well, I generally hear from him every three weeks. He just 
writes a few lines to let me know that things are right at home. 


It has been ten days since I heard from him last. He is gelling 
almost as eccentric as our poor father just before his death. 
He has been a good, faithful, old servant. I hope you will let him 
live and die there in the old home if you become master instead Df 
me; and Robert, believe me, I hope with all my heart that you will 
be the master and not I." 

"I never will be master there, so old Giles will never see me 
again. He will still have to think I have been transformed into a 

"What, Robert, you mean you're not going to accompany me 
back to England?" 

"No, not I. I have had all of old England I want. I will stake 
you to it, its mansions and all," he roughly replied. 

"Yes, but you forget we must be there on the first of May." 

"I forget nothing. I wish I could. I can not go back with 

"Robert, you are so strange. W'hy will you not go back with 

"Why, well, I owe a debt here of $5,000.00. I can not leave 
the country without settling it." 

"I can raise that amount here for you." 

"Can you have it by to-morrow?" 

"Yes, I will bring it with me when we meet to call on Mrs. 

"They live near Sunnyside, do they not?" 


"I'm going out that way with a party of friends and may 
stay all night at one of their homes. So to make sure, I will meet 
you on the banks of the river near their place, and we will pay our 
respects together." 

"Au revoir, then, until we meet there, which we had better do 
about 1 p. m. to-morrow." 

Gordon Long departed puzzling his mind over Robert's strange 
reappearance after nearly three years of silence. 

We will drift from the present to the past, from Chicago to 
London, and discover the reason. The scene quickly shifts to Chi- 
cago again as this odd story is a tale of "wicked city", founded on 
facts well known to almost every reader. 






In a cell of one of the many prisons abounding in London, sat 
a man with bowed head and dejected mien, apparently in utter 
despair but was he in such despair as his attitude would suggest? 
After the guard or "key," as he is termed by the prisoners, had 
passed his cell door and disappeared down the corridor he slowly 
raised his face, and listened till the last fainst echo of his footsteps 
died away in the distance; then he arose to his feet, showing a tall, 
commanding figure and face. The only peculiar thing about 
his fine features was the eyes ; they seemed to hold one 
powerless for a moment, and a strange feeling would creep 
over one, which was hard to shake off. There was little of the 
criminal look about this man just something one could not under- 
stand: but why this jubilant look, when a moment ago his attitude 
suggested such complete despair? Has he at last been forced to see 
the error of his ways? No, there must be some other reason for the 
hope you see there, for he believes in no God. His one great idea 
is escape ; an idea that has filled him with hope day and night, since 
deprived of his liberty, and now it is about to be realized. During two 
years imprisonment he had formed the habit of talking to himself in 
a mutttering tone impossible to recognize as words by any chance 
listener. This musing will help us to tell the story. "Only) a few 
days more between me and freedom." He moved to the door of 
his cell with a stride that still denoted strength. Grasping the iron 
bars with white, but firm hands, he peered down the corridor, 
listening intently. "I must be cautious ; that 'key' watches me like 
a hawk lately can he suspect anything, I wonder? No, I guess 
not, but nevertheless, I shall be careful and appear as ever for he 
is always on the watch. He has had it in for me ever since I 
broke his nose on that accursed treadmill. I wish it had been his 
bull neck instead; I could twist that with pleasure." With these 
unpleasant reflections he turned away and seated himself at a small 
table, where there were writing materials in abundance, also 
a pile of manuscript, on top of which was a small Bible, seemingly 
laid by the gentle hand of a reverent reader of God's word, but on 
the contrary, it was used merely as a paperweight to hold in place 
the sheets which were disturbed by the gentle breeze that found 
its way through the one small, grated window of the cell. He 
showed his respect for the Holy Book by tossing it carelessly to one 
side with a sneering mutter "You answer pretty well for a 'stall* 
to throw off those guards, as does this manuscript the supposed 
confession of my supposed crimes, as it grows in height from the 


table, completely hiding from their view, as they pass, my real work 
on these little articles here, 'the conductors to freedom.' ' He had 
slid into view of his eager eyes, three large keys as flat almost 
as the paper they had reposed between having been formed from 
a piece of steel. Upon this latter article he commenced work. 
The tool used in the formation of these precious keys was simply, 
to all appearance, a common fountain pen and holder, but this 
innocent looking holder contained three compartments; two ot 
them held acids, both comparatively weak and useless, separated 
as they were from each other and the ink, but add one drop of one 
to the other on the best of steel or sheet iron, and it will eat its 
way through, going downward only. Pulling a writing pad com- 
posed of tough, English paper over the sheet of steel, he com- 
menced to write, taking up the thread of his confession where he 
had left off the night previous; cautiously sliding the pad to one 
side as he wrote, he would press a small spring and allow a drop 
of the acid to flow from the pen point on the marked outlines. 
After carefully drying the pen he would press another spring and 
add the drop which drove the other through, leaving a small hole 
and an odor that was hardly noticeable. Thus he had worked on 
night after night until the" lights were put out, as they were 
regularly, at nine o'clock, apparently writing a detailed account of his 
past life, but in reality burning his way to freedom, and a future 
life blacker than the past he has written for the Governor of the 
prison with such a cunning design. At fifteen minutes to nine, 
the fourth key was added to the others. For six months he had 
studied the shape of the key that unlocked the door leading from 
the exercise to the court and precious freedom beyond. So thor- 
oughly had he studied this particular one which always hung with a 
bunch carried by the guardian of them, that he was able to get an 
exact duplicate of it in shape by mental photograhy, but being 
rather doubtful as to size, he had prepared four of them, all the same 
in pattern, but of slightly different dimensions. "If one does not fit 
there are three more chances," so he reasoned with himself after 
secreting them, and preparing for bed. Did he prostrate himself 
before his Creator, and cry out "Lord have mercy on me a great 
sinner?" No, indeed, but on the contrary, swore under his breath 
at the "key," as he again passed on his ceaseless march around the 
corridors. Then he rolled into bed and slept as sweetly and peace- 
fully as a little child tired out with a day's play, until the big bell 
summoned the prisoners to arise and prepare for their daily task 
termed "hard labor." As the bell ceased clanging, the clear bright 
sunlight flooded the great city with splendor. Its rays even pene- 
trating the prison cells of the convicts, warming their hearts 
into new life and hope for the future, but did he appreciate this 
the bright light of day? No, not he. As he espied the sunbeam 
on the wall opposite, he quickly sprang to his feet cursing it, and 
the hand of God that controlled it for it was rain that he wished to 
aid him in carrying out this long meditated plan of escape. 



Who is he that is so princely in bearing and refined in features, 
with a heart so corrupt as to curse his fellow man as he lay his 
head down at night, and the sun and God, as he lifts it at morn? 
Who is he indeed? It would be a hard question to answer with any 
degree of certainty or truth, for the jail records of the case were 
very meager, stating only that number "49," name proper, and 
everything else prior to his arrest in a fashionable gambling room 
at the "West End," unknown. The stakes were high, a dispute 
arose, and one accused the other of cheating. The lie was given ; the 
gambler advanced to resent it; number "49" with a lightning like 
movement, swung a large revolver into plain view of the curious ones 
who had gathered around. There was a deafening report, and the 
gambler fell at their feet, with a bullet through his heart. His friends 
were spellbound for a moment at the awful deed, but regaining their 
senses, simultaneously rushed toward the murderer, who had 
backed to the door of exit, the smoking weapon still in his hand. 
As the boldest ones pressed forward, he drew another, crying 
"Stop." His voice rang out clear and commanding, and there was 
a gleam in the eyes which caused them to falter. "Listen to me, 
your comrade deserved it, and I killed him in self defense, but if 
any one of you doesn't throw his hands in the air and back 
off, I will kill him in cold 'blood !" Every hand went up. Then 
slipping one weapon into an outside pocket, he backed to the door, 
and reaching behind with his disengaged hand, opened it, only to 
fall into the arms of the London policeman, who, hearing the shot, 
had climbed the stairs to investigate. Taken at a disadvantage, he 
was disarmed and handcuffed, after a desperate struggle. Later at 
his trial he was sentenced to fourteen years in prison. From the 
time of his arrest two years ago, up to the time we write of, he 
had maintained a dignified silence. No relatives came forward. 
The case was a peculiar one, and at that time attracted a great deal 
of attention, there being not a scrap of writing in his pockets or a 
mark on his linen, neither was the name or trade mark of his tailor 
or hatter about his clothes, which were of fine texture, made to fit 
his well proportioned form in perfect elegance. If he was a crim- 
inal, he was not a common one. His life in prison during the two 
years preceding had been spent the same as that_ of any other 
prisoner. When there was no work to do on mail sacks or coal 
bags, the making of which was the chief work of the prisoners, 
they were put on the treadmill, or at a crank. He did not mix with 
others, and would answer a question sometimes with a brief yes or 
no, but more often with a mere shrug of his symmetrical shoulders. 
It was here that the guard had one day become so exasperated be- 
cause he would not answer a question, repeatedly put to him, that 
he slapped his face, in consequence of which the guard's nose was 
broken and his face badly disfigured by the prisoner. The Gov- 
ernor's attention was attracted to number "49," particularly and the 


prisoner was asked by him if he would not write out a detailed 
account of his past. To this he seemed to assent reluctantly, finally 
agreeing, providing the Governor allowed him to finish it in detail 
before he submitted it. The Governor agreed to this, and ordered 
placed in the cell any writing materials number "49" required. 
These orders and agreemnts were carried out with the result we 
have noted. Watching his chance one day while at the crank, he had 
extracted one of the steel sheets that formed the lining of the drum, 
inside of which the sand cups revolved. Secreting it in his coarse 
canvas prison suit, he managed to smuggle it to his cell. Pretending 
illness, he succeeded in securing the two acids while in the prison 
hospital. Then he went to work upon the supposed confession for 
the Governor of the prison. 

By climbing on his only piece of portable furniture, he was able 
to look down upon the streets below. Nearly under his window 
on the opposite side of the court stood a hack, the driver sitting 
patiently on the box waiting for a "fare." This seemed to be his 
regular stand, as he had been noticed by his watcher above to 
arrive at 6 a. m. and leave at 8 :30 p. m. For the past year, rain 
or shine, he could be found at his post, except when off with a 
"fare," or he stepped around the corner to indulge in a pint of 'alf 
and 'alf with some brother "Jehu." Number "49" had studied him 
and his rig well in the past year. In fact, so well had he studied 
it that he became familiar with every detail, noting that during a 
storm or heavy fog he would sit inside, peering through the cab 
window for a customer. As his gaze was toward the walk, his 
back would naturally be toward the prison. So number "49's" plans 
had been formed for months, and as he was now in a position to 
carry them out the next rainy day, he watched the man with the whip 
with renewed interest, mentally calculating every chance and 
rehearsing every step and motion he would go through with in 
order to carry out the scheme so long planned and determined on. 
Having finished his preparations he daily cursed the sun and awaited 
only a rainy day till Freedom would be his. 



Number "49" was looking for rain, but there was no sign of it 
as yet, not even a London fog to drive cabby inside. Did he pray 
for rain? No, he cursed the clouds for holding back what he de- 
sired. The acids held in the penholder he had used in forming the 
keys were emptied and replaced by two other fluids he had in. some 
mysterious way secured, possibly from the laboratory in the prison 
hospital. What were they, and what were they for? Number 
"49" after glancing up and down the corridor pressed the spring 
and allowed a drop of one to fall on the palm of his hand; it 
spread rapidly, nearly covering the surface, changing the skin to 
a dark hue. Inspecting this closely, he seemed satisfied, then adding 
a drop of the other, rubbed his palms together with a quick motion, 
and entirely removed all traces of the dark artificial color he had 
produced so easily. Seeming well satisfied with this experiment, he 
again mounted the stool and looked out ; first up at the heavens 
no sign of rain ; then down at the cabman, so unconscious of the part 
he was to play in one of the cleverest schemes of jail breaking ever 
attempted. Stepping down as he heard the "key's" footsteps, he 
pretended to be busy at his writing, then rising he prepared for bed. 
Another day was breaking as fine as the one previous, when number 
"49" arose to go through his daily routine of work, which he did 
without a muscle of his impassive face betraying the fire of intention 
within. By a clever manipulation of circumstances, he had managed 
to get on the treadmill of late in order to obtain all the limb 
action possible, as it. might be very beneficial in the coming fray, if 
endurance and swiftness were required. 

The next three days were as fine as the previous ones, and there 
was not an hour that he did not curse the fact under his breath. 
Upon the fourth day, a typical London fog settled down over the 
city; by noon it began to rain quite hard, sending the pedestrians 
and vehicles scurrying along to seek shelter, even driving our hardy 
hackman inside his rig. And so matters finally shaped them- 
selves to a crisis, assisted by the elements. At 5 o'clock 
the prisoners assembled in the exercising yard, delighting in 
the cool smell of the spring rain. Apparently by accident, 
but in reality by clever design, number "49" was at the 
extreme end of the yard when the fifteen minutes was up 
and the criminals were formed into line for their march 'back to 
slavery and confinement. Staggering a pace backwards and allow - 



ing the line to proceed with the first guard he threw his hands 
to his face as if in mortal agony, and with a smothered cry fell 
heavily to the earth. Seeing this, and being satisfied it was no sham, 
the 2nd guard knelt and inquired what he wished done. Half rising 
on his elbow, as if attempting to regain his feet, he again fell back 
with a moan and cried, "I am dying the doctor quick go!" As 
the excited guard hurried off after the prison physician, "49" cau- 
tiously glanced around, then springing to his feet, rapidly covered 
the distance between himself and the gate, meanwhile getting his 
keys ready for action. He inserted the largest, number four ; then 
the smallest, number one; both failed. Number three did the work, 
and he was on the outside. Locking the gate behind him, he shot 
a swift glance up and down the deserted streets; not a person in 
sight, and a perfect deluge of rain was descending. His plan worked 
well so far ; everything seemed to be in his favor. Through the fog 
could be seen the faint outlines of the hack. Making his way 
swiftly toward it, he passed close to the hind wheels, under which 
was placed a portion of a brick by the methodical driver. He se- 
cured it, and gently but quickly opening the door he sprang in and 
grasped the surprised cabby by the neck and brought the brick down 
upon his head with a force that laid the poor fellow in the bottom of 
his rig, oblivious to what was going on around him. Stripping the 
rain coat from his limp form and securing the waterproof hat from 
the seat, where it had fallen during the attack, he donned both, and 
thus disguised quickly mounted the box and drove away, slowly at 
first, but as the grim walls of the prison were gradually swallowed 
up in the thick fog, he quickened his speed. Turning into a deserted 
side street he brought the horses to a stop. Climbing down from 
his perch, he joined the still unconscious man within. After clos- 
ing the door of the hack securely, he proceeded to change his prison 
garb for the clothes worn by his passenger; after making his toilet 
in this manner, he looked for the cabman's dry weather hat. Find- 
ing this under a flap in the cushioned seat, he adjusted it, then the 
waterproof hat was donned over this. The hat and shoes were as 
he had calculated, a fair fit. On ^ placing the penholder and keys 
in an inside pocket, his hand came in contact with something he had 
not felt for years money; stopping to investigate no further, ht 
looked at the watch in the vest pocket, and noted that it was 5 :32, 
just seventeen minutes from the time he passed through the prison 
gate to freedom. Peering in every direction, as far as the dense fog 
and blinding sheet of rain would permit, he satisfied himself that 
the coast was clear, then raising the limp form in his arms deposited 
it on the curb. As the rain struck his face the cabby began to revive. 
Seeing this, number "49" closed the cab door and drove off at a 
smart pace. Keeping up this gait for four or five blocks he swung 
into another gloomy side street, more deserted than the former; 
stopping about the middle of the block, he once more descended and 
entered the rig. When he reappeared the governor of the prison 
himself would have failed to recognize him. H'is face and hands, 


once so light and fair, were dark as a Spaniard's the fluid had done 
its work, and done it well. Leaving the team exposed to the raging 
elements, as he had their faithful owner, he slouched away, his 
hands in his pockets, bringing his shoulders to a decided stoop. 
Striking Southampton street, he passed along this, and soon found 
himself in the strand. Here there was life in plenty, in spite of the 
rain, and thousands of honest wage-earners brushed by the convict on 
their way home. Passing swiftly along through this scurrying, 
bustling, chattering throng of humanity, he turned into a side street 
which furnished a short cut to Black Friars. 



Following this street some distance he turned into the doorway 
of a low "boozing ken." In this place was the average crowd of 
hangers-on that usually patronize such low groggeries. Paying no 
heed to the greedy and curious looks he threaded his way through 
the motley gathering to a rear room or stall, where he took a chair 
and pressed a small button just over his head, which read, "When 
dry push me." A denizen of the street appeared before the waiter, 
one of those Who had noted his entrance while lounging in the outer 
room waiting for prey. "Oie soiye, oi am dry, me 'earty, so oie 
am. Just stake us to a drink, will yer." At this moment the 
waiter appeared to take the order. "Here, waiter, bring me a 
smlall bottle with glasses for two; also send your master to me at 
once, and as you go along take this booze grafter out and show her 
the town pump; she says she is dry, you know." "Come on, 
Happy Sal ; get a move on yer and 'blow,' the gent is a little choice 
of his company. Go and hunt up a 'live un.' " Urged thus by 
the waiter, the "beer lusher," who had picked the convict out for a 
"mark," shambled off in disgust at her luck. The bottle and two 
soon made their appearance, as did the master, who was plainly 
an American, and one in whose face crime's trademark was stamped 
with startling vividness. As he deposited the order upon the beer- 
stained table, he peered cautiously into the face of his customer. 
"Yer want to see me, did ye say?" "Yes, I did say so, and I am glad 
I found you in. Graft on the outside must be kind of light, or I 
would not have been so fortunate." "'Graft!' what do you mean? I 
don't know youse." "You don't know me? I am glad to hear 
that, too. That is the best news you could tell me; or unless, 
on a second thought, it was that you had discovered the secret of 
the clock." "Clock, clock, what yo givin' us? I don't twig your 
handle, and I ^don't know nuthin' about er clock.' "Now, then 
my_'Chicago friend' and prospective 'hemp stretcher,' come down to 
business, take a seat and share this wine with me, which we will 
drink at your expense, and tell me a few things I want to know," 
number "49" replied in the words and manner suitable to the place 
and conditions. Under the influence of those eyes, he mechanically 
obeyed, pale and interested since "49" spoke of Chicago and "hemp." 
Pouring out the drinks with a trembling hand, he waited for his 
customer to begin, which he did without more parley. "You don't 
know me ; that is very good." As he spoke he straightened up and 
threw back his head. "Now look into my eyes. Do you know me 

(Continued on page 143.) 




TF you are interested in the prizes to be awarded to 
1 the readers of this book, note the following 

To the reader who discovers the 


that reveals the first secret of THE MYSTERIOUS 
CLOCK, will receive as first prize a Beautijul Sum- 
mer Cottage. On exhibition at Fishers Lake, Mich. 
Picture, 460 Monon Bldg. 

To the reader "who discovers a 


that reveals the second secret ticked off by this won- 
derful clock, will receive as second prize a Genuine 
Diamond Ring (weighing 2 karats). 

To the reader -who discovers the 


that solves the "CHICAGO MURDER MYS- 
TERY," will receive as third prize, a beautiful Piant, 

Prize offers continued on fage 345. 
See $ages 1 13-141. 



John G. Shedd. 

Hon. Luther Laflin Mills, Eminent Jurist. 
Alexander Finn, British Consul. 
W. S. Jackson, President Board of Trade. 
Mayor Dunne. 
William Jennings Bryan. 
Jailer Whitman and Sheriff Barrett. 
Police Chiefs Collins,- O'Neil and Badenoch. 
Dr. G. Frank Lydson and Dr. Wm. M. Harsha, Eminent Crim- 

Father O'Callahan of the Paulist Fathers. 
Judge Prindiville. 
Judge Brentano. 

J. H. Schumacher, Sup't Pinkerton's Detective Agency. 
M. E. Murphy, Warden State Penitentiary. 
P. R. Cahn, President of Stock Exchange. 
Senator Toy. 

W. L. Messer, Gen'l Sec'y Y. M. C. A. 
Captain Adrian C. Anson. 
Lady Helen Forbes. 
Kang-Yu-Wai, Chinese Reformer. 
J. G. Hudson, English Educator. 
Judge Lannin. 
Judge Smith. 

W. Kirk Bryce, English Parson. 
Percy Vincent Donovan. 
Jules Huret, French Novelist. 
Chas. A. Stevens. 
Alexander Revell. 
R. E. Burke, Old-time Politician. 
J. F. Atkinson, Sup't Chicago Boys' Club. 



Prince Henry of Prussia. 

Mrs. , Sup't Chicago Orphan Asylum. 

Jane Addams, Hull House. 

Thomas Lawson. 

M. Nubr, Austro-Hungarian Consul. 

Alderman Michael M. Kenna. 

Mr. Richard Carle. 

Opinion from a Desperate Crook of the "Wicked City. 

Henry Brouland, ex-Vice Consul, Paris. 

L. M. Smith, Banker. 

The Rev. F. C. Bruner, and others. 

Young & M-cCombs of the Island. 

Commissioner Bingham, New York. 

Director Moore,- Pittsburg. 

Sup't McQuade, Pittsburg. 

Chief Delaney, Denver. 

Chief Taylor, Philadelphia. 

Lieutenant Miller, Milwaukee. 

If the pages containing opinions by the above are read under- 
standingly, it will prove that the once wicked city is positively 
being redeemed. The title "Wicked City" has been chosen mainly 
for the purpose of obtaining your attention to the facts. 


In the Rev. Frank C. Bruner's sermon on "Chicago, the Black 
City," at the Oakwoods Union Church (delivered before Chicago 
was redeemed), he said: 

"The wickedness of Chicago is appalling. The intercession of 
the Man of Gallilee at the throne now is for the sins of Chicago. 

"A greater center of devilism is not to be found on the continent. 
It is not all the fault of the city authority. The people will have it 
so. Money is king. When the modern golden calf is worshipped 
with intense devotion the growing ulcer of crime will continue to 
damn the innocent, because of evil environment. 

"No wonder Christ, the advocate, on his Olivet in the sky, be- 
holds the city and weeps over it. The sorrow in one hour of night 
is enough to break the heart of God. A single night would pale into 
insignificance some sections of nethermost hell. The epidemical 
elements have been fostered in Chicago until the city has been satu- 
rated with the poison of sin, incurable as leprosy. 

"The same sins covetousness, drunkenness and licentiousness 
that dominate Chicago caused the destruction of the crime-loaded 
cities behind the centuries. God is no respecter of persons. The 
hope is to get rid of sin." 


Mayor Dunne gave the following interview from the bosom of 
his family. He thinks well of the city he calls his own. He 
says, "Chicago is now as pure morally as any large city in the world. 
There is no public gambling; it is absolutely discountenanced. Con- 
cert halls, dance halls and recruiting stations for vice have been sup- 
pressed. To-day a man may walk upon the streets of Chicago with 
less danger of being solicited by courtesans than in any city in the 
world. Grafting and political corruption among the public officials 
of the city have been minimized year by year until to-day there is 
less than there has been at any time for half a century. 

"Chicago is the nerve center of industrial America, and the most 
enterprising city in the world. The evil reputation which it bears is 



due' to two causes: a too enterprising but unmeaningly disloyal 
press and the natural rivalry of cities. 

"By the latter I mean that financial and industrial institutions 
of other cities make stock, as it were, of the slandering Chicago 
does of herself through her own press. And by the first I mean that 
Chicago being the nerve center, is the very home of sensation and the 
enterprise of our press is oftentimes sensational. Take for example 
the late great industrial struggle. Thousands of teamsters struck 
and war was declared between them and their employers. Every 
day the papers were filled with stories under glaring headlines of 
rioting, shots fired, people killed and wounded and terror through- 
put the city. Why, any sane man on his way to visit Chicago, see- 
ing one of these papers, would seriously consider turning back. 

"Now just to show how serious all this trouble has been, look at 
this list showing the number of inmates of the county jail for the 
past six months compared with the same months of the year before : 

January 614 Same month 487 

February 643 494 

March 607 474 

April 647 486 

May 583 428 

June 534 438 

"These figures are official, but during the three months we 
had been having a reign of terror according to the press. Are 
these figures not significant? 

"Chicago is the most cosmopolitan city in the world. Every 
race, nationality and religion on the globe is represented here and 
in consequence struggles are bound to occur. But crime is not 
winked at nor does it receive any sort of quasi-recognition in public. 
In fact, the life, property and morals of our citizens and the sojourn- 
ers within our gates are now as safe as in any city in the world." 

Mr. Alexander Finn, British ConsuMo Chicago, says: "Your 
city compares favorably with the other cities of the world. I have 
met many charming people here and have many good friends among 
them. You have a very busy city and your press is particularly 
enterprising. I believe your police number about half what they 
should, and if you had more, these holdups that are occurring so 
frequently should be impossible. I lost my watch some two months 
ago on a State street car, but that might happen anywhere, in Lon- 
don or Paris. 

"Whatever problems you have to confront you are only the 
result of the city not having become grown up yet; it is not set- 
tled like every other city of its size. But on the whole, I am very 
favorably impressed with Chicago." 


Judge Prindiville was next interviewed and he offered no objec- 
tions to being questioned; but it is strange how some men holding 
public office dislike to commit themselves. There is but one inevit- 
able question : Why ? 

The invariable first question was put to him, "What is your 
opinion of Chicago as the Wicked City?" "Why for its size there is 
now less wickedness here than in any large city in the world except 
in the line of labor troubles." "To what cause do you contribute 
these labor troubles?" came next. "I can't answer that question," 
he replied. "Well, do you think that the policies of past administra- 
tions have had anything to do with it?" "Humph," he replied and 
smiled sweetly. This question was put to him in several ways, and 
finally his interrogator suggested that perhaps it was rather a deli- 
cate question to put to a public man. He laughed and said it was, 
but finally said, "Well, you can put down that I think it is due to 
our cosmopolitan population, a floating population." That was clever. 
"Then you really think that the political feature has had nothing to 
do with it?" "I think that that feature has been given too much 

"What do you think of the handling of the late teamsters' 

"I think this strike has been handled better than any big strike 
in the history of Chicago. I think the mayor deserves much credit 
for his work. It is the first time that police have ever been placed 
on the wagons to protect them and their drivers." 

"What do you think of the efficiency of the police?" "The police 
are a very efficient body. They have a vast territory to cover and 
very few men to cover it, and they are constantly meeting with the 
most difficult of conditions. As a body they are far superior to that of 
New York." Then we reverted to conditions in the city in general, 
and he said, "There was a time when there was much wickedness 
here, but in the last few years there has been an absolute change : 
the tone of the whole city is changed. The city was full of 
panel houses, gambling houses, confidence rooms, and confidence 
men swarmed about the depots. Why right across the street the 
whole block was full of gambling and confidence rooms, and they 
were right here in this very building. (We were in the justice court 
rooms on Clark street at the time). But there has been a complete 
change in the entire moral tone of the city. Why even in the cify 
council there is a difference. The type of aldermen is different. 
There is less real low vice here than in any city in the world. Chi- 
cago is a good clean city and I am in a position to know. I have 
been closely associated with the criminal classes for years." 

"What do you think of the parole system?" "I think that too 
much leniency is shown to pardoned criminals. It is the cause for 
much crime. And it is very discouraging to the police to take a 
man, convict him and then have him at large again in a few months' 
time." "What is the reason for this leniency?" "It is due to a 


mistaken sense of mercy and good heartedness on the part of the 
board of pardons and enterprising reformers." 

"What do you think is the cause for the reputation Chicago 
bears outside the city?'' ''I couldn't say." "Do you think it is due 
to over-zealousness on the part of the people?" A smile and a shrug 
were the reply to this. "Perhaps this is a little like the other ques- 
tion, a little too delicate to answer." "Yes, sir." "Then you haven't 
an opinion on the subject?" ''Yes I have." "Well, put it some 
way." "Well, you can just say I think it is due to a lack of civic 

' ; Do you mean by that that you believe that the majority of the 
men and women of this city are not loyal to it?" "No, but I'll tell 
you : When this was a town of 100,000 every man here talked of 
nothing but Chicago ; that's how it got its name, the Windy City. 
It's what made the city what it is ; but you know as well as I do that 
there aie people now who are making a business of knocking the 
town in as well as outside. 


Mr. John G. Shedd, ex-president of the Commercial Associa- 
tion, gave the following: 

"Chicago is now one of the best cities morally in the world. It 
has its black spots ; every large city has its dark places. But taken 
as a whole, Chicago is one of the most moral of our large cities. It 
has received in the past, however, many harsh criticisms ; but as a 
city it is bold and outspoken, never having had anything to conceal. 
As in every large city it has at times been badly governed, and to 
the casual observer conditions sometimes approached the wicked ; 
but the careful observer sees less drunkenness, less real vice and 
wickedness and more on the whole to be emulated than most large 
European or American cities. 

; "Given good government all the time, Chicago with her great 
agricultural and manufacturing surroundings is undoubtedly the 
best commercial center in this country for the young energetic pro- 
gressive' man to enter business. Its varied resources compel the 
title, 'The Great Central Market,' which has been so aptly applied 
to it by the merchants of the city, and most cordially acknowledged 
by its most energetic competitors." 

Mr. J. H. Schumacher, general superintendent of the Pinker- 
ton Detective Agency is a man whose knowledge of conditions in 
the cities of the world is gained from actual observation, says : 


"Years ago, Chicago was not the city it is to-day. There 
was much crime, many holdups and safe-blowings even in our down- 
town district. But conditions have been steadily improving until 
to-day we have a well regulated city, comparing favorably with the 
large cities of the country. 

"The police department is remarkably efficient in that good 
order is kept, handicapped as they are. In numbers they are woe- 
fully small. The city of Havana, Cuba, has nearly if not quite as 
many as Chicago, and has only 300,000 people, one-seventh of Chi- 
cago, similarly even in Mexico. Large numbers are drawn to pro- 
tect manufacturing interests, and the balance have to cover the 
greatest area of any city in the country. 

"Chicago is not now the wickedest city, but is safe and well- 
regulated, and becoming more so every day. 

Mr. Ed. Murphy, warden of the State Penitentiary, says : "Why 
no, Chicago is not a wicked city, it has been redeemed. The fact 
that only about two-thirds of our prisoners are from Chicago, is 
>an excellent showing. And the police are badly handicapped in 
numbers, too. The only trouble I can see is that Chicago has 
grown at a pace even too swift for Chicagoans." 

Father O'Callahan of the Paulist Fathers, whose work brings 
him continually in contact with the very worst conditions of our 
city, said that the worst he could say about Chicago was that it was 
a cross between a city and a border mining camp. This, though it 
is rather hard on Chicago, on the face of it really shows that the 
worst fault he can find with the city is its extreme youth, and he 
makes it appear like an overgrown boy who stumbles over his own 
big feet trying to follow the straight and narrow path. 


Mrs. L. O. Warder, presiding in the absence of Mrs. Stocking, 
superintendent of the Chicago Orphan Asylum, expressed her opin- 
ion of Chicago by relating an incident that occurred some time 
ago. She said: "Not long ago, among a party of ladies that I 
was showing through the institution, was a sweet-faced little old 
lady from Virginia who was visiting Chicago for the first time. 
As she bade me good-bye, she said : 'Mrs. Warder, I came to Chi- 
cago filled with stories of its being the wickedest city in the world. 
But if it is so, there is no place in the world where so much is 
being done to relieve that wickedness.' " 

Mr. John J. Badenoch was chief of police in Chicago during the 
time when the notorious "long and short men" were committing their 
depredations. He is retired now and has left public service forever. 


His former service gave him the experience and his present life as 
a private citizen has given him breadth of vision, so he is now able 
to view the whole as a landscape, to take in the whole situation at a 
glance, and-he-need-not-be-afraid-to-talk. He is first and foremost 
a Chicagoan, but he knows our city's defects. He says : "Chicago 
is a great city, but not a wicked one. As to former conditions I 
will say that the city has improved wonderfully in the past few 
years, just as the world has been improving. In every city, how- 
ever, there are and always will be districts in which there is wick- 
edness. These places are always just between the business locality 
and the residence part of the city. They can be scattered, but they 
will always exist in every city." 

When the interviewer asked Mr. Badenoch about the "long and 
short" incident, he inadvertently referred to it as a "reign of terror," 
and aroused Mr. Badenoch's ire, 

"Reign of terror ! Nonsense ! We are having the same thing 
happen every day and we had for years before these men appeare'd 
on the scene. Now I'll just tell you why it was that we were three 
or four months catching those men. In the first place, they were 
wise. They would hold up a couple of places and go directly to their 

meeting place at a house on street, divide up and scatter, 

leaving town at once by a different route in time to escape the drag- 
net sent out after each holdup. Now when I tell you how we got 
them finally you will see how the police are hampered by the laws. 
They finally held up the offices of the New York Biscuit Co., large 
offices filled with clerks and bookkeepers, cashiers and private officers. 
It was pay day in the factory and they got a big haul. But while 
they held this great office force at bay with their Colt 45s' some of 
the men in the office had presence of mind enough to scrutinize 
them carefully. Just think of it! In broad daylight, entirely un- 
masked and in the heart of the city. Well, when I took these men 
through the rogue's gallery every one of them positively identi- 
fied the photos of this gang. But I told them, 'You are mistaken, 
these men are now, every one of them, in the reformatory at Pon- 
tiac.' But to make sure I called up Major dowry at the reforma- 
tory and he said, : 'Yes, these men are all here.' 'Well,' I told him, 
'they are identified here as having held up a place.' He asked me 
to wait while he looked it up. He returned to the 'phone and said 
that the men were out on parole and had been for some time. Well, 
later they were under arrest and we had to go to the British pos- 
sessions to get them. 

"Now here's the worst part of it. It is a misdemeanor for the 
superintendent of the reformatory to inform the police when a man 
is let out on parole. Now nineteen times out of twenty when a 
man is taken for holdup it is found that he is paroled out of the 
reformatory, to which he was sent for the same crime. 

"Now this thing will continue until either the force is made 
large enough to cope with this continued renewal of the ranks of 
the criminals or the laws are changed so that the holdup man gets 


a heavy penalty and is obliged to serve it out." "Well, how about 
the case of the first offense?" he was asked. "Young man," he said, 
"not once in a hundred times is a man convicted and sentenced on 
his first offense. Just write that in your book." "Well, what is the 
reason that it is a misdemeanor for the superintendent of the reform- 
atory to notify the police when a man is paroled ?" "Just this : 
Charitable and well-meaning people believe that when a man is once 
sentenced and shows signs of reformation he should have the chance 
to reform, and they have heard stories of men trying to do right 
hounded by the police. Now that won't happen once in a thousand 
times, while the great majority are back again anyhow for the same 
crimes or worse. This is just one difficulty the police here have to 
contend with. Another is their lack of numbers, far below what 
they should be, and another is the lack of good vagrancy laws of 
some sort. This is the worst obstacle. When a well-known and 
habitual thief or crook is seen on the streets, instead of taking him 
in and putting him away and continuing this, making it too hot for 
him to stay here, it is impossible to touch him unless he is wanted 
for some particular crime. The man can be arrested and tried for 
vagrancy and held over. He gets professional bail and has some 
saloon keeper let him do a few jobs about his place, and then the 
saloon keeper testifies that the crook is in his employ. That's all. 
Now if we had a law by which we could send a man to the work- 
house or out stone-breaking, it would make Chicago a very unde- 
sirable place for the crook to stay. But the. indeterminate sen- 
tence and the parole systems are responsible for more crimes than 
all the other causes together and is responsible for 90 per cent, of 
the holdups." 

"What do you think is the reason that we have so much labor 
(rouble here?" he was asked. "That is a large question," he replied. 
"Well, do you think that the policy of past administrations in cater- 
ing to the labor classes have had anything to dp with it?" "1 am 
hardly in a position to criticise the administration, but this I will 
say : that when labor agitators first really commenced active work in 
Chicago we were at the commencement of a great wave of pros- 
perity, and conditions were such that great concessions were made 
by employers to the unions, whether just or otherwise, because they 
felt that they could not afford to be tied up at that time by running 
the risk of business stagnation. These conditions have encouraged 
the leaders to make ever greater demands." "Well, do you think 
that the practice of police in allowing strikers or their sympathizers 
to gather for the express purpose of interfering with people in the 
pursuit of their lawful business is due to a lenient spirit higher up?" 
He answered : "If any officer sees any man or group of men inter- 
fering in any way with any person or congregating with the intent 
of doing so, without interfering, he is guilty of neglecting duty 'and 
should be punished for it. And if any officer sees any man assaulted 
and makes no arrest until the man in self-protection resorts to vio- 
lence and then arrests only the assaulted man, charges should be 








preferred against him by his accompanying officer so that he might 
be able to fully explain why he had failed to do his duty and thus 
exonerate himself or be properly punished for having failed to do so. 

"With all due respect for the position of the mayor of the city 
of Chicago, the peace of the city has been destroyed, rioting has been 
of daily and hourly occurrence against citizens in the pursuit of 
their lawful vocations. I believe that his own appointees should be 
summoned before a police justice of the city. When the comfort, 
peace and prosperity of a city is interfered with there should be 
no temporizing on the part of the justices either. Fines of from 
one to five dollars for assaulting and beating a man to uncon- 
sciousness, and these paid by the unions, only tend to encourage 
this evil. They should be fined the limit and the maximum punish- 
ment should be a fine of not less than '$500 or one year in jail or 
both. This would stop it. 

'But I have a great respect for the Chicago police department. 
They are a brave and fearless lot of men and are eminently officered. 
They have done wonders in years past in doing all they have done 
to cleanse and purify our city when in proportion to our population 
they are weaker than any police force in the country. And the pres- 
ent chief is of great energy, absolute integrity and absolutely trust- 
worthy in every way and an excellent officer." 

Mr. Whitman, who for twelve years has been in active charge 
of the Cook County jail, gave the interviewer the full benefit of his 
thorough knowledge and experience. He said: "Chicago is not a 
crime center now, and criminally is no worse than any other city in 
the country. There are very few habitual criminals at large here 
and criminality itself is on the decrease. The inmates of the county 
jail are principally young men who are just developing from the 
hoodlum class. This is a significant fact and shows that the worst 
conditions we have to deal with are those which make it possible 
for some boys to grow up knowing nothing but the vicious side 
of life. 

"But while this and many other evil conditions exist here, as 
they do in every large city, Chicago is not blind to the fact nor 
unheeding. The juvenile court, the parental school, social and 
industrial settlements, parks, playgrounds and recreation places and 
other influences are being established in the slums, and these are all 
tending to elevate the youth morally and help to lead their steps 
away from crime and its consideration." 

Mr. Whitman has established numerous innovations in the jail 
and one of them is a school for boys. All the boys from 16 to 19 
years of age are at liberty to attend. Mrs. has charge of 

NOTE To Mr. Whitman is d'ue the credit for having finally 
found a man to take up and push the work of starting the first 
juvenile court in the land. 


the school and there is no guard to assist her and no compulsion 
is used. The boys work diligently and well and immediately show 
a desire to learn and an ambition to do better. Recently during 

two weeks' absence of Mrs. , the boys elected one of their 

number to lead their work, and Mr. Whitman says that in his daily 
visits to the school he never once found the least signs of disorder 
or negligence, and all showed their pride in being found doing the 

"Now then," said Mr. Whitman, "if these influences were 
brought to bear before he reaches the age of crime, the next genera- 
tion would be infinitely freer of criminals than this. Why, our 
very newspapers are a great factor in the making of criminals. I 
appreciate fully the value of the press in unearthing crime and the 
value of the information often given in its columns ; but the detailed 
and magnified stories of daring crimes committed by would-be ban- 
dits appeal to the hoodlum class in such a way as to inspire them 
to attempted emulation. 

"Another evil which comes very often to my notice and which 
has a very simple remedy, is the parole system of releasing prison- 
ers which now obtains. When a man leaves the penitentiary at 
Joliet on parole he is allowed to go to just one place and that place 
is nearly always Chicago. He comes here equipped with a suit of 
clothes and ten dollars in cash. Now have you any idea how hard 
it is for an ex-convict to obtain employment? Well, it is next to 
impossible, no matter how worthy of assistance the man may be. 
And he is here in a big city friendless and alone. His ten dollars 
are soon gone and he is immediately thrown among evil companions, 
the only ones he can find, for the man must have companionship 
of some sort. The result is that in spite of all his good resolutions 
he is on the high road to becoming a confirmed criminal and of 

"Then, too, every strike we have develops its quota of criminals. 
These continued and useless strikes are constantly forcing men 
otherwise honestly employed out of work, and what is more, keep 
them out of work when he and his family may be starving 1 . Many 
a holdup man has been made by the desperation of his condition due 
to this evil. 

"We have been getting back to causes, so let us look for the 
cause of this. Now the unions are powerful organizations and a 
very useful thing politically, and, recognizing the vote-getting power 
of the leaders of the unions, men high up in positions of trust in 
our administration have for years past given them ever freer rein 
until the climax of the past strike. But the firm stand taken 
by the present administration has effectually stopped the usual de- 
moralizing and vicious features. 

"No, our city is not clean yet, but every year sees a little of the 
smudge rubbed off and a bit more white showing through." 


It is a significant fact that those men who are most 
familiar with the evil which exists in Chicago all go back of the 
evil and look to its cause. The result of this is that institutions 
have been organized for the elimination of that cause. One of these 
and one which is doing a noble work is the Chicago Boys' Club, 
which has for its superintendent Mr. J. F. Atkinson. This is a club 
of newsboys, bootblacks and street gamin, and it furnishes a place 
of recreation, industrial education and moral and mental improve- 
ment. In it are baths, games, reading and lecture rooms, and work 
and class rooms. 

The boys may choose any of several branches of work : shoe- 
making, basket weaving, carpentry, drawing and others, and they 
are allowed the liberty of the other departments at certain times. 
Soon after the club was opened the boys showed such interest and 
enthusiasm and they came in such numbers that it was found neces- 
sary to limit the membership to boys under 14 years of age. And 
now less than half of those seeking membership can be accommo- 
dated. The following is an illustration of the work this club does : 

Mr. Atkinson has conducted similar clubs in London and in New 
York. He says : "Chicago, while it ranks favorably with other 
American cities morally, is below London, and the reason for this 
is that London is not a city of politics, while Chicago is all politics. 
As to the criminal question, it is a fact that the majority of our 
criminals come from our street-boy class. 

"Chicago has more newsboys, bootblacks and street arabs than 
any city in the world, and they are of a lower type. We have an 
excellent school system here, and I am not trying to discredit the 
fact; but while the policeman and truant officer are dragging the 
boys to school we can't drive them out. So I say that the key to 
the street-boy problem is industrial education. He is bright as steel, 
and quick as double-geared lightning. He knows nothing of law 
and order, nothing of decency, and he runs wild. He is the off- 
spring of the riff-raff from all parts of the earth. He is brought 
up in foul, vicious, fetid atmosphere, and he has absolutely no moral 
sensibility. He does not know right from wrong. To him there 
is no principle involved in the act of theft. His ambition is to get 
his plunder and get away, and the one who gets the most and gets 
away is a hero. And they are all alike until we get them. And I 
am here to demonstrate the difference between dull book work, asso- 
ciated with girls, and compelled as with a club, and the method of 
treating the boy kindly and gaining his interest. Under this system 
and the good^ influences with which we surround him while here, 
the good in him gushes up like a fountain of clear water, and I tell 
you that out of these boys we are making doctors, lawyers and keen 
upright business men. A similar club in every ward in the city 
would practically eliminate the young criminal." 

Miss Jane Addams, who is the head of the famous Hull House, 
the greatest charitable institution of its kind in the world, refused 


to be interviewed on the subject, saying only that in her opinion 
more harm had been done to Chicago by people making off-hand 
criticisms of the city and conditions existing in it than in any other 
way. As a reason for her refusal to make any statement she said 
that she thought no one had a right to give an opinion without first 
having looked up statistics and making exact comparisons. Con- 
sidering her years of sociological study and her position as head of 
Hull House, the interview was disappointing; but her work de- 
serves highest praise. 

In the foregoing we have given the views of men familiar with 
life in Chicago in all its phases, but they have all viewed it from 
one standpoint, that of the virtuous man. So in order not to over- 
look any view that might be beneficial or of interest, we decided that 
it was but fair to include among those interviews one at least from 
a man whose whole life has been that of an habitual criminal. His 
record shows that he is familiar with crime from his standpoint at 
least. He has served four sentences in the penitentiary at Joliet for 
larceny, robbery, burglary and murder. Besides this he has been 
convicted of crime nine times in the criminal courts in Chicago and 
admits that at least a dozen times he has been tried for crimes here 
of which he was guilty and not convicted, either for lack of evi- 
dence or for other reasons. In addition to this he has been convicted 
of crimes in St. Louis, New York and Milwaukee and has a crim- 
inal record in several other cities. 

His record of non-convictions in Chicago is certainly a reflec- 
tion upon either our police or our courts of the past, and he ex- 
plains it fully. He says : "There is less crime in Chicago than in 
either New York or St. Louis ; there is less gambling and there arc 
no confidence rooms any more. But the police can't touch those of 
New York in efficiency." When asked how it happened that he had 
been arrested here so many times he explained it as follows : "Why, 
they never took me when I was sober. I was always drunk and 
somebody tipped me off." In reply to the question, "How did it 
happen that you were not convicted when you were tried those 
dozen or more times?" he said, "Why, in the police courts al- 
most any man with a little influence in those days could have a 
case quashed for almost any crime." He was asked, "As a class, 
are the majority of the criminals here in Chicago professionals?" 
and said, "No, they are mostly young fellows and green at the 
business." Then he was asked, "Where do the real criminals 
make their headquarters." He replied, "Mostly in New York." 
"How do you account for this fact?" "Why, they only come 
west to make their money and go east to spend it just like any- 
body else that has money." "Why is this?" "Well," he said, 
'a' man has more latitude here; it is easier to get off if you get 
caught." Then he volunteered the information that a man can 
be known by the police here to be a crook and walk the streets 
with perfect impunity unless he happens to be wanted, while in 


almost any other city, in the east particularly, he would be taken in 
and given very short notice to get out of town." 

His statements are somewhat contradictory, but they are food 
for thought at least and we have reason to believe that he is honest 
in them. 

Dr. G. Frank Lydston, prominent surgeon and eminent crim- 
inologist, is very radical in his views, but his remarks show that 
he has investigated this subject thoroughly. He says: 

"Facetiously and otherwise Chicago has been said to be the 
wickedest city in the world. This is a bold statement and one dif- 
ficult to substantiate, but there is enough evidence to support it. 
In a recent annual report from the State's attorney's office, it was 
shown that the criminal court of Cook County exceeded in volume of 
business any similar tribunal in the world. A few years ago the 
number of criminals arraigned in one year was nearly 200 in excess 
of the number arraigned in London. The labor troubles in Chicago 
have shown conclusively that a wholesome respect for law and 
order is not Chicagoesque, not that the same sort of disturbances 
which have occurred in Chicago have not and will not again occur 
in other cities. They are more marked in Chicago because it is the 
most American of American cities. Personally, I am inclined to 
believe that America at large is more inclined to turbulence than 
most of us are willing to admit. That Chicago is the storm center 
of the conflict between labor and capital is probably explicable by 
the dominance of political influences in the management or mis- 
management of social disorders." 

Mr. Richard Carle, one of Chicago's foremost comedians, at- 
tempted very diplomatically to turn the interviewer over to his 
manager, but finally admitted himself that he thought Chicago is a 
very good place to live in. He said that disturbances of all sorts, 
criminal and otherwise, occur in other cities just as they do here, 
but the press does not make so much of them. In New York, for 
instance, they are absolutely suppressed. Chicago people like to 
tell on themselves, he says, and the press doesn't have any conscien- 
tious scruples about doing so either. 

Mr. Luther Laflin Mills is known throughput the country as an 
able legal adviser, a man of keen discernment and absolute fairness. 
He says: 

"To a resident of Chicago who is familiar with its conditions 
of life the prejudice which is said to exist against it in other parts 
of the country a prejudice arising from the. lawlessness and social 
disorder which are assumed to characterize it appears to be not 
only unreasonable but preposterous, in view of the city's history and 


facts which exist to-day. Having lived in Chicago nearly all my 
life and having long observed its many social phases, I do not hesi- 
tate to say that there never has been a time during the last fifty 
years when it could not be compared favorably with any other 
American city in the character of its people and their regard for 
law and order. There is no community in the world which can 
boast more influences actively and aggressively civilizing and human- 
izing; there is none which has a more sensitive public conscience. 
"It is true that Chicago, like all other large communities, has 
imperfections and characteristics to be criticized, and that reforms 
are demanded. It is true, also, that it possesses a citizenship whose 
remarkable reformatory tendency and power are recognized by 
thoughtful men throughout Christendom. The title of "The Wicked 
City," as applied to Chicago especially of to-day, has no justifica- 
tion, in fact, and is based upon an undue and unjust magnifying 
and sensationalizing of evil conditions whose virulence and extent 
are limited, and which, in no degree, constitute an alarming menace 
to the general safety of prosperity and happiness." 

Alderman Michael Kenna, otherwise known as "Hinky Dink," 
during a hasty interview just before his departure for Europe, said 
that Chicago is not a wicked city now, but on the contrary is one 
of the best regulated cities in the world, but that a great change 
had taken place in the past few years. Illustrating previous condi- 
tions he said: "Why, I have seen burly western cattlemen walk- 
ing through our down-town streets, hand in hand and three 
abreast, each afraid to let go of the other for fear something might 
happen to him." 

Mr. Nubr, Austro-Hungarian consul, was diplomatic in his 
replies, but they are significant. When asked what he thought of 
Chicago, he replied: "I have no fault to find with Chicago and I 
am not obliged to stay here if I do not like it. I could have myself 
removed." "Then you find it a pretty good place to live in?" 
"Well, I have been here for several years and have just returned 
from an extended trip abroad and you see I have returned." 

Mr. Francis O'Neill (general superintendent of police at time 
of interview) is loyal to his city and its virtue. He has his griev- 
ance and he is justified in letting it be known. He says: "Crim- 
inally and socially, Chicago has shown a vast improvement in the 
past few years. A few years ago panel houses flourished, street 
walkers abounded and confidence men were not very rare. Crim- 
inals of all sorts were plentiful here. None of these conditions 
exist to-day. There are no panel houses, few street walkers and 
the heart of the city has been cleaned. In the past four years 


there have been but two gangs of confidence men at work 
here and to-day they are all in jail. Why when I 
was in charge of the Harrison street police station, at one time I 
knew personally of twenty-two opium dens in one precinct alone. 
To-day you won't find an opium den running in the city * and the 
wineroom evil has been suppressed. Up to the time of the late 
strike, Chicago has been freer of crime than at any time in years. 
South Clark street and South State street, the old Levee districts, 
are now devoted to legitimate business. 

"There are no real, habitual criminals who make their head- 
quarters here. Our principle trouble is a floating population. They 
come here in the winter from all over the country, out of work, 
procure a cheap revolver and every once in a while go out and stick 
a few people up. 

"In all its history Chicago has never had but four quartets 
of really bad holdup men, and it is interesting that they all were 
under twenty-five years of age and few of them had any previous 
criminal record, and they are all now either living or behind the 

"The penitentiaries of none of our neighboring states are far 
from Chicago and when men are released from them they inva- 
riably congregate here. Last year the county jail was crowded 
with just such men and the House of Correction was so full that 
hundreds had to be pardoned out in order to make room for new- 

"Now a certain amount of crime is bound to exist in every 
large city and we must have at least enough men to cope with this 
crime under normal conditions. Up to the time of the strike Chi- 
cago had 600 less regular policemen than she had on the rolls twelve 
years ago fewer than at any time in her history and with her greater 
population and area at that. Yet we maintained an orderly city. 
Here are some suggestive figures and they are authentic. These 
figures will show an interesting comparison : 

"London, area 690 square miles, 17,000 police, or 25 per square 

"New York, area 317 square miles, 8,000 policemen, or 25 per 
square mile. 

"Chicago, area 191 square miles, 2,316 policemen or 12.1 per 
square mile. 

"London, 6,000,000 population, has 1 policeman to each 353 

"New York, 4,000,000 population, has 1 policeman to each 500 

"Chicago, 2,000,000 population, has 1 policeman to each 869 

*The author and his secretary proved this fact. They searched 
the city for a month to get a snapshot of one and failed to unearth 
anything more than an enclosed bunk that some Chinaman used 


"But even working under this disadvantage we have a cleaner 
and more orderly city than any city of its size in the world. 

"The police are constantly compelled to arrest men for all sorts 
of crimes who are either out of prison on parole or who have just 
finished a sentence. That shows that there is something wrong 
farther on. And one thing I know, and that is that the large majority 
of sentences given by the courts are not severe enough and the 
parole system makes that even shorter. Why over 20 per cent, of 
the men who are out on parole are back in jail again before their 
term is out. And it is not fair to the public at large to run a con- 
stant and useless risk of life and property and burden themselves 
with the cost of maintaining courts, jails and an immense police 
force simply for the purpose of re-arresting and re-trying bad men. 

"Yes, Chicago has a bad reputation and it is no wonder. Cer- 
tain newspapers are particularly responsible for it. Reporters come 
to the hall and in the stations over the city and ask for nothing 
but scandal and graft exposures and absolutely refuse to publish 
anything else. Other papers over the country copy and the farther 
they get, the worse they grow. The general tendency is sensa- 
tional and it is doing Chicago an irretrievable injury. 

"Here is a sample of one that came in this morning and our 

files are full of just such. The first is a clipping from the 

and the other is the official report of the case. 


"The great merchant prince, Mr. Graeme Stewart was in here 
just before he was taken ill and speaking of the harm a certain 
press was doing the city, said he believed steps should be taken to 
put a stop to it. 

"Any report which goes out to the effect that the Chicago of 
to-day is disorderly or a dangerous place to live in has no sem- 
blance of truth. We have now a good, clean, orderly city and 
the best and most energetic city in the world in point of active, 
effective reform in its political and social morals." 

The social conditions of Chicago will compare favorably with 
those of any other large community, and yet, "In one year 70,000 
persons have been arrested in Chicago. In one year there have 
been 17,000 boy prisoners in Chicago. Statistics show that eighty- 
five per cent, of the juvenile criminals in Chicago have had no 
religious training." 

(Bishop Coadjutor C. P. Anderson.") 

"Formation is cheaper than reformation." We discuss _ at 
length the tariff question, the traction question and the question 
of finance, but what question equals that of the salvation of Chi- 
cago's 8000 news boys, her 2000 store and office boys, her 1000 tele- 
graph messenger boys, her scores and hundreds of waifs, strays, 
sleep-outs, etc. ? 






These boys are victims of circumstances over which they have 
no control. They naturally gravitate into "Darkest Chicago" 
where the cheap hotels and lodging houses abound. In that district 
red faced men crowd the saloons and hover about the doors; dis- 
solute women stare brazenly into one's face; the air is heavy with 
the fumes of stale beer; the laugh of the harlot mingles with the 
ribald songs and cursings of the half drunken men at the bars 
and the card tables ; cheap theaters and low concert halls occupy 
buildings which ought to be used for more legitimate purposes. 
In that district passion runs riot ; dissipation everywhere ; sin every- 
where. The wages of sin is death. 

In 1901 a movement was begun which was in response to a wide- 
spread and ever increasing demand that something should be done 
in behalf of the ever increasing army of waifs and strays that 
abound in "Darkest Chicago." This movement is but the logical 
result of a profound conviction that" good influence should be 
brought to bear to effect the future moral and religious life of 
this imperial city. That the work is being done may be seen in 
the fact that the first night our Boys'_ Club rooms were open three 
boys took advantage of the opportunities afforded them here. Dur- 
ing the year ending December 31, 1904, three years later, we en- 
rolled the names of 1738 boys in the same club rooms and had an 
aggregate annual attendance in all departments amounting in round 
numbers to 21,500. Our Club rooms had been open less than six 
months when it became apparent that we could not accommodate 
the oncoming multitude of poor, ragged, foot-sore, tramp children 
who represent the waste material of. our slums, so we decided to 
admit only boys fourteen years of age and under. 

Industrial training in connection with Boys' Club work is the 
key that is to unlock the street boy problem, but owing to a lack 
of room we are accommodating less than fifty per cent, of the 
boys who seek admission to our industrial departments. This waste 
material can be and is being reclaimed as may be seen in the case 
of a boy found in December, 1903, sleeping in a dry-goods box in 
Market Street. He was brought to_ us. We gave him a bath, put 
clean clothes on him and found him employment. To-day he is 
making a splendid record working his way through college. An- 
other boy found on South Canal Street amidst junk shops, saloons, 
freight houses, etc., is now taking a course in the Art Institute 
where he is showing marked abilitv in free hand drawing. These 
are only samples of many cases which might be cited. 

Quoted from letter from J. F. ATKINSON, 

Superintendent, Chicago Boys' Club. 

Sheriff Barrett says Chicago is not a wicked city now. It has 
been wonderfully cleaned up in the past few years.. This, he says, 
is due wholly to the efficiency of the police, and that the majority 
of holdups are due to drunkenness on the part of the victims and 


their being in places where they have no business to be- (That is 
hard on some of the men who have been held up here.) But the 
bad name Chicago bears is partially due to certain papers for the 
good that they have done in their exposures. He says that New 
York and London papers do not publish the class of matter that 
fills some of our papers. He believes the greatest evil we have 
here is its being the center of unionism as it is ; for it is the strong- 
est union city in the world. But even during the great strike there 
has been less crime than during the same months of the year before. 

Judge Smith of the Appellate Court says: "I have lived 
in Chicago for forty years and I have never had the least trouble- 
It is impossible to compare Chicago with any other city in the 
world. None has become so great in so short a time; none is so 
mixed as to population ; and none has had so many difficult condi- 
tions to meet and so little experience in the manner of meeting 
them. If any other city in the world had grown as rapidly, the 
same troubles would have come to it but in a lesser degree and it 
is questionable if they would have been so well overcome. Chicago 
is located in the center of the country and is a sort of half-way 
place for criminals. I believe that there is no real criminal in the 
country who has not at one time or other been here. 

I was judge of the criminal court for a good many years and 
I have had as many as forty murder cases in one year; but this 
number was far in excess of the number tried by any other judge 
that year. Now we have a much' smaller percentage of convictions 
in our criminal courts than *hey have in, say London, and may be 
in New York. But in England the courts have full, unrestricted 
power while here not only will a jury never convict a man of crime 
unless he is proven guilty without a doubt, but our courts were in- 
volved in a whole mess of political intrigue. There is, however, 
more permanency in the courts of older communities; even New 
York is better managed in this respect, and judicial administra- 
tion is more substantial and permanent. 

In the police department it is the same way; some officers are 
afraid of political influence higher up. If the police had a fair 
chance, I think they would do excellent service and would be a first- 
class body of men if they were not continually interfered with by 
some scallowag at the top. The whole department is juggled by 
the head officers. But even considering these things, Chicago is 
a splendid and a powerful city and it would bear no such reputa- 
tion as it does now, were it not for our very loyal press. Every 
bit of wickedness that occurs in the city is published. Nothing is 
suppressed. Other papers copy and what is the result? It has 
borne the name "Wicked City" for years. 

^But Chicago is now a first-class city and we are fortunate in 
having a predominance of aggressively moral people. 

The new name we have for it City Beautiful fits it surely. 
Yes, I think the intention of Mr. Stevens to prove the city redeemed 


in all but the name, is a very creditable one. How is the world 
going to know of its redemption unless told of it? He deserves the 
good will of the press and every reader." 

Mr. Robt. E. Burke has for years been identified with politics 
in Chicago and has served his city in many capacities. He says: 
"Chicago has reasons for being one of the wickedest cities in the 
world instead of being, as it is now, one of the best of them. It 
is made up of people of races from all over the earth with almost 
every religion and creed in existance represented here and it is sur- 
prising that it is not more wicked than it is. There were some 
pretty bad spots. There were tough districts sandwiched in between 
such as "Little Hell," "Hell's Half Acre," and the "Lava Beds."* 
But these places are all cleaned out now and there is not a really 
tough or dangerous neighborhood in Chicago to-day. 

"But we have a most excellent police force. They have a diffi- 
cult task to perform, for they are Jar from being strong in num- 
bers. We have now about 2,300, but we should have 5,000 or at 
least 100 to each ward. They have about 7,000 saloons to keep in 
order; if about 400 to 500 of these were wiped out however, their 
task would be easy. Then every fall there is a general influx 
of unemployed, many of whom are criminals by nature or they 
become criminal of necessity. This is due to Chicago's geograph- 
ical location. Then the police were handicapped by the courts and 
the lax administration of justice. Fines were remitted, criminals 
were either pardoned or let out on parole. This causes contempt 
for the law not only in the criminal himself but in would-be crimi- 
nals. It is a bad practice and very harmful. 

"Then I have seen many times police justices hurry through 
their dockets in the most perfunctory way. One case after another 
would be brought up, the charges read and the prisoner fined ten 
dollars and costs and told to step aside with no attempt at proper 
investigation or trial. The courts themselves were at one time 
partially responsible for most of the crime here. 

"But the city is not wicked now and no one need ever fear 
personal or financial injury if he conducts himself properly." 

Lieutenant Madden, acting chief of detectives, says that the 
only trouble with Chicago is that it has grown so rapidly and of 
course the criminal element has grown proportionately, but that 
the hard name it bears is not warranted. That while there were 
really more criminals here than in any other city of its size was 
due to the fact that it is a sort of a half-way station and that it 
is this reason alone that makes this the case. But that a good 
vagrancy law would rid us of fully fifty per cent, of them- While 
street walking has been minimized it will break out occasionally 
in spite of all that can be done. Concert halls and places of assig- 
nation are practically closed. There is no gambling in Chicago ex- 


cept, of course, little poker games which are bound to exist. The 
methods of conducting our penitentiary and reform schools are the 
cause of the continued holdups. He says that a man can have 
been arrested twenty times for holdups and then on the last sen- 
tence be out again in eleven months. But if the police force had 
good laws to back them up, there would be very little crime here 
and Chicago instead of the name it bears might be called the Holy 

Mr. W. S. Jackson, president of the Chicago Board of Trade, 
treats the subject broadly and though his criticism may be some- 
what harsh, yet in every instance, he brings up a redeeming circum- 
stance. He says: 

"The lax administration of state and municipal statutes, par- 
ticularly those relating to the protection of persons and property 
and the maintenance of public order has given to the city an un- 
enviable reputation. 

"New enterprises, calling for the investment of capital, have 
been frightened away and serious injury has thus been done to our 
commercial interests. This state of affairs, emphasized as it is by 
the assaults and disorder attending labor strikes and their per- 
nicious influence upon our public schools, I think, is largely due to 
the financial inability of the city to provide adequate police pro- 

"While there is and always will be waste and extravagance in 
any politically governed municipality, Chicago has been wonder- 
fully free from any grave scandals affecting the disbursement of its 
revenues ; its lack of income is organic and relief can only come 
with an enlargement of its charter powers. Unfortunately this con- 
dition has served as an invitation to many representatives of the 
criminal class from elsewhere and burglaries and holdups have be- 
come numerous. Detrimental as such things are to the public wel- 
fare, the most serious consequence is in the alarming disregard for 
law. We are pressing through a trying period of stress and eco- 
nomic change; the good people of the city are greatly in the major- 
ity and there is abundant promise that our trials are transitory and 
that good will come out of them. Already the indications are ap- 

"As to crimes concerning moral turpitude, Chicago with its 
great heterogenous population I believe is much better than many 
other of the large cities. The pulpit and press in the last five years 
have done much to create a standard in public sentiment that has 
caused decided improvement, and Chicago in this regard will not 
suffer by comparisons with any other great city. Chicago with 
more than two million people has, perhaps, fewer millionaires than 
any other city of equal population ; it is from center to circumfer- 
ence pulsing and throbbing with commercial activities and yet in 
its charities it is beautiful, beneficent and grand." 

Captain Adrian C. Anson, ex-captain of the Chicago Baseball 
Team and now city clerk, has not yet become accustomed enough 


to holding office to submit gracefully to being interviewed. But 
his one remark is significant: "I'll not leave Chicago on account of 
the crime here." 

During a conversation with Senator Toy of Andover, S. D., 
(in Mr. Stevens' office), he was asked, what is the opinion of the 
people of the Northwest regarding Chicago as a "wicked city." 
He quickly replied, "Chicago has the name "wicked city" in our 
section as well as many others visited in my travels. But per- 
sonally I fail to see it in that light. For thirty years I have been 
visiting Chicago every season and have never been molested in any 
way by business bandits or thugs or courtesans of the streets. I 
see no wickedness, and all my visits here are stored away in my 
memory as just so many more pleasant epochs of my life. I have 
been treated like a prince of royal blood by every one I came in 
contact with from shoe shiners to merchant princes (in a business 
way) and from affable hotel clerks to eminent statesmen. No sir, 
I fail to see where it got its name "wicked city." I would rather 
bring up a child in Chicago than in any of the small cities. Every- 
one is busy here in some way and they keep out of mischief. The 
smaller cities are worse in comparison." 

Mr. B. R. Cahn, president of the Chicago Stock Exchange, 
said : "I am not in a position to discuss Chicago as a "wicked 
city," because I personally have never come in contact with any 
of it. I have read much in the papers of Chicago's wickedness, but 
have no personal knowledge of any. Wickedness or evil conditions 
of any sort on the stock exchange is absolutely unknown." 

Judge Brentano says, "Chicago is no more wicked than any 
other large city in the world and is much less so than many. Lon- 
don, Paris, and Vienna are all of them much worse. Crime exists 
everywhere and is, if anything, now less widespread here than in 
most large cities- I believe that certain phases of crime and vice 
run in a nearly fixed proportion to the population and this propor- 
tion certainly is not exceeded here. Criminals and vicious people 
of all sorts are like the poor: we have them always with us." 

Mr. L. W. Messer, general secretary of the Young Men's Chris- 
tian Association, gave the following: "Relatively I believe Chi- 
cago to be neither better nor worse > than any other city in this 
country. The same forms of vice exist in every large city and if 
anything, are more marked in the eastern cities. In Boston even 
I have seen more vulgarity and drunkenness than here in Chicago. 
And in the cities of New England in the street cars and stations 
and public places of all sorts one hears commonly more low, bad 
conversation among the average citizens than here. This seems to 
me to be an indication of a bad moral condition that we have not 

"In New York especially the social evil is much more bold and 
open than here, and there they have a type of population that is 
lower than anything ever seen here. 


"Chicago is certainly improving. It was not so very long ago 
that Chicago was a frontier town with all its accompanying vices- 
But these have been gradually disappearing. If there is an excess 
of crime here it is, I think, due to the city's youth and rapid growth. 
Up till recently Chicago had not adjusted itself. 

"Holdups in number and seriousness are not as bad as they 
are made to appear, and had we an adequate police force of equal 
efficiency, they would be able to cope with our worse evils success- 
fully. The police are to be greatly commended upon their conduct 
of the recent strike. There has been much laxity in suppressing 
the violence attending it however, but this is, I think, due to po- 
litical influence. In the presecution of such cases, too, the justice 
courts have been responsible for much of the trouble by failing to 
levy sufficient penalties and thereby encouroging^yice. 

"There are many causes for vice in large cities and the same 
holds true in Chicago, but the one I believe to be the most deplor- 
able is the low theater and playhouse. On one Sunday night I had 
my men go to them all and there were 17,000 people in attendance- 
They were all packed, and principally by young men and boys ; the 
younger the average age, the bigger the crowd. But these fortu- 
nately are now being cleansed. 

"The cause of Chicago's bad reputation is certainly one due to 
undue publicity by the press, emphasizing sensationalism. Exag- 
geration of evil conditions by rival cities though has had much to 
do with it- There is a rabid prejudice in New York against Chi- 
cago and throughout the entire country _ there is a marked tendency 
to recognize the bad and fail to recognize the good for commercial 
and sectional reasons." 

Wm. Jennings Bryan sees a great future for Chicago. (Quot- 
ing from letter to the author), he says in part: 

"I am not sufficiently acquainted with Chicago and other cities 
to compare them from the standpoint of vice and crime. I have 
always been impressed with its advantageous position and with its 
possibilities for the future. Its citizens have shown an independ- 
ence in voting which indictes an appreciation of the responsibili- 
ties of citizenship. 

"I > am very much interested in the experiment about to be 
made in municipal ownership and am gratified to see Chicago a 
leader in the movement." 


Dr. W. M. Harsha, an eminent life saver of the College of 
Physicians and Surgeons, College of Medicine, University of Illi- 
nois, Department of Surgery, says : "Wicked city it was and wicked 
city it is called. But every city has a wicked side and naturally the 
larger the city the larger the element of wickedness. 'Opportunity 
is writ large' in a great city and like the rain from heaven comes 
to the just and the unjust. Much of the seeming goodness of peo- 


pie in smaller communities may be due to less opportunity and to 
the restraining influence of the more general acquaintance of the 
people. Instance the wild times many of these people indulge in 
when in the city away from these restraining influences ; also wit- 
ness respectable Americans from city or country when abroad in 
Paris for instance where you may see them visit places mention 
of the like of which at home would shock them. In the city the 
man with wicked impulses gets away from people who know him 
when he turns the corner ; and it is this fact which attracts many 
of the worst people from the smaller communities to residence here. 
It is true the large, city also attracts many of the best and brightest 
people. The worst element hopes to get lost while the best often 
gets 'found.' A large part of the wickedness of any city is main- 
tained by the aid of and for the delectation of the visitor. Chicago 
is not as bad as it has been ^painted. Our press has perhaps been 
inconsiderate in making public the worst side of our civic life and 
the press away from here especially the Eastern press has 
misrepresented us egregiously. A patient of mine returning dur- 
ing the recent teamsters' strike from Philadelphia received from 
the papers there the distinct impression that it was unsafe for him, 
to go from the railway station _ to his home. General report of us, 
away from home, is exaggeration gone wild. It has been charged 
against unions and political workers that they hire professional 
sluggers, and it has been charged that wealthy individuals and 
corporations have hired professional 'agents' to hold tip the whole 
community when a franchise or other end was desired ; but the 
signs of the times are that the people are getting sufficiently en- 
lightened to stop all this sort of wickedness and Chicago will yet 
emerge a great as well as a decent city." 


Lady Helen Forbes, says: "Chicago girls are top wise." 

NOTE True, they are wise, but they turn their wisdom to good 
account in all directions as a rule. It is also a protection (to young 
girls especially) from prowling wolves- 

Kang-yu-wai, a great reformer and Chinese statesman, says, 
"That our vim and "New Ideas" would revive China. He would 
send the children to schools and_ colleges here if he could." 

NOTE Chicago's death rate is lowest now of any city in the 

Sir F. Bucharest says: "Europe is indebted to Chicago for 
some of its most beautiful and talented ladies upon the stage." 
* * * * * *.* 

Joseph Lannin, an eminent judge of Sunnyside, Wash., saj-s : 
"Chicago, it is true, was a very wicked city. In fact, it has that 
reputation even now, I believe, in all parts of the world; but in my 
opinion Chicago is redeemed in all but the name. I think Mr. 


Stevens' work proving the city's redemption, should have the hearty 
support of the press and every person interested in making Chicago 
the "city beautiful," as he calls it. 

"The facts widely published would soon change the views here 
in the great West as well as in the East. 

"Talks with students of sociological conditions from every for- 
eign country proves that the title of the book is a very appropriate 
one indeed. The impression that Chicago is the wickedest city in 
the world is universal. I believe the press and the Commercial As- 
sociation of Chicago are in a position to do more toward this end 
than books of this order, but everything of this nature helps and 
the book I believe will be a power for good." 

Percy Vincent Donovan, the English novelist, says: ''Chicago 
is now one of the greatest cities of America. It is more like Lon- 
don." He once said, Chicago was a dirty wilderness of rotten 
wooden houses on streets like ditches whilst a maze of electric wires 
and scrambling, money-mad people made the lake look like a trench 
in front of a great army. 

The English parson, W- Kirk Bryce, at a banquet of the Sons 
of St. George, said, "Chicago is now one of the greatest cities in 
the world." 

Thomas Lawson, of frenzied finance fame, says that (metaphi- 
sically speaking) the house of the Chicago people is on fire. But 
the flames will be extinguished and the structure as well as the in- 
mates will be saved. 

NOTE If this is too copious for the reader's comprehension, 
Mr. Lawson will explain to all through the press if you write him. 

J. G. Hudson, an English educator of London, says: "Chicago 
is the greatest city in the United States and the schools are the 
best in the entire world. The Chicago women's clubs were a great 
help towards this end-" 

NOTE This is true and they deserve great credit. Still there 
are 60,000 children deprived of any opportunity to obtain an educa- 
tion in Chicago alone. This is a very small average (great as it 
seems) compared to other cities of the world. Will interested 
readers kindly tell us how to benefit the 60,000 poor little mortals. 
The author, 2 Aldine Square, Chicago, has a "plan" exchange ideas 
on the subject and form some practical plans for helping all the 
worthy poor of Chicago, 





Marian Shuflin in Chicago Record says: 
The heart of Chicago is going out to her "bad boy." 
In a dozen ways her sympathy for him is taking concrete form 
and there are being woven a dozen practical plans to help him 
along the road to good citizenship. For half a century the city's 
attitude toward her dependent and delinquent boys might be likened 
to that of a widow with many children to support toward the one 
that gave her the most trouble she loved him, but was so busy 
earning the family bread that the annoyance from his peccadillos 
smothered, for the time, any show of maternal affection. Chicago, 
having acquired her commercial competence, now has time to take 
up the problem created by her bad boy, with the leisure and sym- 
pathy necessary to his reformation. 

Charles A. Stevens says: 

State street, Chicago, is a wondrously beautiful thorughfare. 
In it lies the heart of the most attractive commercial body, for 
so limited a space, in all the world. New York, with its scattered 
stores, cannot even so much as produce a good imitation. Paris 
show windows and contents of establishments run more to colors, 
while London's houses and streets ever are gloomy, not only with 
displays, but exteriorly; those who parade on sidewalks are stupid 
appearing as compared to State street and what the street holds. 

One begins at Lake, and, looking down to Congress, sees 
monuments of Chicago's commercial greatness, so strong and so 
big that almost any one of them is so great that, if torn away, 
the Western world miss it- And yet State street is but one of 
a multitude of arteries that feed the brain and muscles of this 
wonderful giant by the lakes. But it is the one splendid, beautiful, 
shopping, trading avenue which has given fame to the West. One 
hears of it so far away as Arabia. 

The street now is at its best. The beautiful days send thou- 
sands to it. It becomes the city's popular show ground. In it is 
a vari-colored, flashing, bright-eyed world of good nature, of fash- 
ion men with money, visitors in delight, women dressed in all 
the shades of the sunrise pink, the noonday blue and the sunset red. 
Chicago would be famous if she possessed no other exhibition of 
greatness and beauty. 

Alexander Revell says: 

Chicago is the center, the commercial hub of a universe in 

which you could plant Germany, Austria, Holland, Belgium, Great 

Britain and Ireland, France, Spain, Norway, Sweden, Italy, Greece, 

Portugal, Switzerland, Turkey and Denmark. Does the average 

mind ever stop to contemplate the width and area of this country? 

Courtesy of J. Evans, Chicago Examiner. 


Investigation by Chief Collins into the sending of young women 
to Chinese harems has revealed the fact that for years Chicago has 
been a recruiting station for such traffic. A number of North side 
divekeepers, it is said, have grown rich in the trade. The chief 
has determined to stop the traffic. He announced to-day that he 
would drive the ringleaders out of town. 

"I dp not want Chicago to be the recruiting station of Chinese 
harems," said Chief Collins. "I intend to drive the ringleaders 
out of town." 

Chief Collins received his first information that Chicago was 
supplying women for Chinese ports from James L. Rogers, Ameri- 
can consul at Shanghai. Courtesy of Chicago Journal. 


NOTE The British consul, Alexander Finn, advises his country 
to follow Chicago's lead. Is this not significant of its rapid growth 
to supremacy over all cities of the world? 

Consul Finn Reports to His Government the Opportunities Are 
Large if American Methods Are Followed. 

"Use American methods; advertise as extensively as Ameri- 
can manufacturers do; establish agencies' in Chicago." 

This was the advice given to British manufacturers by Alex- 
ander Finn, the British consul, in his annual report to his govern- 
ment. He declares there is a great unexplored field for British 
manufacturers in Chicago and urges them to seize the opportunity. 
For the purpose of building up this trade the consul announces 
he is ready to receive names of persons in the united kingdom 
wishing to export to Chicago. He offers to put these merchants 
into correspondence with importers in this city. He urges, how- 
ever, that for the British manufacturer to meet with success in 
the market he must adopt the active methods used by the Chicago 

"The American believes in advertising," he declares, "and uses 
it to the utmost. It is impossible for the British manufacturer to 
hold his own, to say nothing of increasing his trade on this 
continent, unless he adopts the same system as his rivals." 

Consul Finn speaks glowingly of many phases of Chicago life 
and attempts to correct the impression that Chicago is a wild and 
woolly western town. 

"A great deal is published in the papers in Europe and Amer- 
ica, about Chicago/' he says, "tending to, make people think the 
correspondents of these papers wish to create the idea that they 
are living in a wild western town, whereas there is 1 no place where 
so little drunkenness is seen nor where the people are more able 
to provide the necessaries of life without appeal to charity." 

Courtesy of Chicago Daily News. 


Writing the Tribune, Jules Huret, a well-known French novelist 
visiting Chicago now terms it a city of wonders. He says : 


New York and Chicago are two rival cities and it is the New 
Yorkers who have transmitted to Europe their prejudices against 
Chicago, with the result that when a person in Paris wishes to 
speak of a person who is intrusive and without manners of educa- 
tion he says, "He is a pork merchant from Chicago." 

Furthermore, the New Yorkers have represented Chicago to 
us as a hideous city a type of an uninhabitable city. I find that 
both the adversaries and the defenders of Chicago have exaggerated 
a little and that the inhabitrns of the said cities of the east are 
hardly justified in their severe criticism. 

In that city of Chicago, which we are told is peopled exclusively 
by the vulgar, I have met more amiable men and have received 
more charming aattention and witnessed more true politeness than 
in New York. In fact, I discovered in the home of one of the 
millionaire brewers of Chicago the most exquisite urbanity and 
refined hospitality. 

I believe one could not find in the aristocracy a nature more 
really refined, more discreet, or more generous than that of M. 
James Deering, one of the proprietors of the famous agricultural 
implement manufactory of Deering & Co-, the greatest of its kind 
in the entire world. I beg his pardon for saying this so publicly 
and brutally. But I am proud of my discovery because it permits 
me to correct the false opinions of the American people which 
prevail in Europe. That a man polite and sensible as he could exist 
in the terrible world of business is consolation for some of the 
failings of America and ought to reassure us of the possibility of a 
civilization less sharp, less brutal, more delicate, and more refined. 

I have never seen in any other city such intensity of movement 
and of noise. Neither have I in any other city received an im- 
pression of prosperity so immeasurable and so grandiose as in Chi- 

In Chicago, it must be confessed, there are some places on the 
borders of the river which in appearance suergest the suburbs of hell. 

Within two steps of this hell Chicago has Lake Michigan. The 
principal hotels, the Auditorium and its annex, are built on the 
lake front. This is called a lake; it is a body of water 580 kilo- 
meters loner the distance from Paris to Bordeaux and 175 kilo- 
meters wide the distance from Paris to Chalonssur-Marne and 
its depth in some places is as much as 275 meters. The tempests 
on it are as severe as those in the open sea. 

A large avenue runs along the lake front and some beautiful 
parks are there. The promenade there is exquisite, for there is 
always a_ fresh breeze and the view of the boundless water and the 
great ships on the hori/on adds to the magnificence of the scene. 
I saw some private residences, some of which are exceedingly hand- 
some, as that of M- McCormick, who married a daughter of M. 
Rockefeller, who bought him a dowry of $3.000,000, only: that of 
Mme. Potter Palmer, whose niece a few years ago became the 
Princess Cantacuzene-Speranski. 


Some clubs are installed on the lake front where the people 
go to take boat rides and at night to flirt in the light of the moon 
to the music of the waves. There is no lack of young people, for 
here we are far from New England. 

Chicago, doubtless, feels that it is not big enough, for the muni- 
cipality is making land in the lake. Little by little the lake is filled 
in with earth taken from other parts of the city and the avenue 
which borders it is widened. This is quite a practical idea. In a 
few years they will have a new quarter of the city on the land 
which they have made. 

Chicago has four or five times the area of New York. Its po- 
pulation is 2,250,000, and I believe that it has one street twenty- 
two miles long. This street is called Western avenue; it extends 
through the city from north to south. This avenue contains an 
electric car line, but when one considers the stops that are made 
it must take all day to make a journey from one end of the 
thoroughfare to the other. In that respect Chicago holds an un- 
common record. 

On arriving in Chicago it requires as least half an hour for 
an express train to* travel the distance which separates the extreme 
suburbs from the central station. 

If one takes seriously the judgments and ironies of the New 
Yorkers one would expect to find in Chicago only the daughters 
of butchers and coal dealers. However, about 10 :30 in the morn- 
ing, the time when most of the women can be seen in the streets, 
a promenade in Michigan avenue is a charming surprise. Among 
the trees and on the greensward hundreds of young women in ele- 
gant costumes, flowery hats, or even bareheaded, can be seen 
promenading and laughing, carrying under their arms some books 
bound together with a leather strap. 

Such an air of health and of the joy of life is seen in their 
rosy cheeks and their laughing eyes that it is difficult for one to 
refrain from turning and looking at them again. But the men, 
the young men, who meet them, scarcely notice them. H'ow can 
such beautiful flowers flourish in such a dusty city? 

"It is the air of Lake Michigan," I was informed. 

Professor O. B. Hutchins of Boston, Mass., says: "Chicago 
has the name here of being the wickedest city on the globe. Foreign 
visitors to Boston from all parts of the world claim that Chicago 
is believed tr be the wickedest city and is termed such in all lands. 
I understand by the best of authority that Chicago has or is being 
redeemed. If this fact can be fully established to Americans alone 
it^wiU be a wonderful help to this great and beautiful city of the 
middle states commercially as well as in all ways." 

"N. B. I believe there are very few Chicago residents who 
know how their city is looked upon by the outside world; we are 
too busy building it up and fighting evils to ever remember the 
'bean bakery' of the East, if it was not for Lawson's 'trimming' of 
the 'poor kings of finance-' " 



Henry Broulund, ex-vice-consul, Paris, France, says : "The 
name "wicked city" does not fit Chicago as I see it. But it bears a 
reputation to fit this name in all parts of France, England, and Au- 
stralia that I have visited. _ If desired to tell a discordant acquaint- 
ance to go to hell in a polite manner, they immediately said, 'Mon- 
sieur, you go to Chee-cau-gp.' " 

Prince Henry of Prussia says : "Chicago is indeed a great city. 
It is the malestrom of the States'. Centered midst a churning sea of 
humanity. If the ladies and gentlemen I met were a representative 
class, Chicago as a whole would impress me as being more cultured 
than we are given to believe in our country. Many of the 
ladies are beautiful. Many of the boulevards and residences are 
grand. Mrs. Potter Palmer's mansion is a veritable castle compar- 
ing very favorably with those of Europe. The lake seemed from 
this point very beautiful. The great parks are a blessing to the 
poor and furnish pleasant drives for the rich. 

"I think your city is misjudged in many things by those of the 
outside world who are obliged to depend upon hearsay as a basis 
for their impressions." 





















The worst kind of gambling has been entirely done away with. 
There are two kinds of gambling, one is a curse and the other is 
a blessing. This class is of a purely legitimate character based 
upon fair business principles, many of the gamblers being gentle- 
men of refinement and good family connections. Their acquaint- 
ances extend largely among the well-to-do citizens, who can afford 
to loose. 

These clubs are patronized by merchants, attorneys, doctors, 
publishers, reporters, military men, successful authors, and artists, 
real estate men, capitalists, brokers, financiers, bankers, politicians, 
aldermen, police officials, judges, residing consuls, residing 
and visiting nobles, congressman, senators, etc. The only game 
operated by these clubs is the great national game of "draw 
poker." The game is of such an interesting nature that it 
throughly concentrates the over-taxed mind, giving it a complete 
rest from all business, social, political and domestic cares. Conse- 
quently to the brainy man of means it is a harmless pastime and 
a blessing (to the above class more especially) ; the over taxed 
business man, plays more for this complete mind rest than for gain. 


They are very conservative as a rule but seldom expect to win and 
seldom dp. To the idle rich it keeps them out of more serious mis- 
chief which might be detremental to others. This phase of gambling 
ex'ists in all cities and always will. The police have more serious 
evils to look after which takes up their entire time and attention. 

In order to stop gambling of this nature it would require a 
police force seven times as large as it is at present, and the entire 
force would have to be detailed permanently upon this one phase 
of the so-called evil. 

The class of gambling that is a curse to women and innocent 
children as well as mankind are the open variety games run by un- 
principled black legs retired con'men and a low order of shoe string 
(pickers) of the cheap sport order. This class are not recognized 
by a real sporting man as gamblers. Strange to say you will find 
a greater social distinction between gamblers than exists in the so- 
called society and the outcasts of the street ; for them there is some 
compassion while on the other hand there exists nothing but con- 
tempt. The "sure thing" gambling proved to be a stigma upon real 
gambling. Strong forces have been marshalled to put it down 
with the aid of the poker club men themselves. The police, news- 
papers and citizens entirely suppressed it. This has been a great 
help towards Chicago's redemption. 

The poor clerk and working man find their way home with a 
lighter heart and heavier pocket and happy faces greet him. What 
a blessing this is to them and what a curse it was when the roll 
of the wheel or throw of the dice sent him home in the early morn- 
ing, with a heavy heart and empty pocket. This class of gambling 
is operated by a class of gamesters who distress a multitude of poor 
wage earners for the sake of an easy living and the mania for being 
classed as sporting men. They hang on the ragged edge of poverty 
merely realizing results that could easily be exceeded by most any 
legitimate vocation, a vocation whereby no one would be distressed, 
no mother weeping over the absent husband or the little one's fever- 
ish wail for bread. No duping the dupes of their week's wages before 
it reaches the landlord, grocer and baker. No face turned towards 
suicide bridge. No feet turned from the home of want and misery 
to drag the shattered mind and aching body to the foul river. No 
hand guided to self destruction or beating the ones he loves in fury 
at the just complaints, or to thieving for bread or begging of same, 
or to the wine that drowns his sorrows, or no hand raised at the 
bar of justice, or no face framed behind the iron bars, no "huntch- 
ing" or "bunching" or "foreflushing" to "trim" a "guy" or raise a 
wife's cry. No gray hair to dye, no luck to try, no reason to lie, no 
conscience salve to buy and where a dollar can be honestly earned 
and well spent. Gambling is a blessing when it is not a curse. 
Gambling in Chicago is not a curse because the curse does not exist. 
The curse has been driven out by the help of the so-called curse 
that is being held up as a curse by those who do not understand 
the situation. Question? Which of the two is the worst :" The 


"Uncle" that dodges his taxes, or the "ante" who taxes his "stack" 
of poker checks every "deal." The tax dodgers are about the only 
criminals left in Chicago. If they would "ante" up all they have 
been "shy" on for many "deals," it would buy an extra "stack" of 
policeman, to protect the tax-payers as well as the poor from thugs 
and murders who spring into life from the very youths that brush 
elbows with them every day upon the street or cars. Furnish a 
fund to organize a club for criminals and would-be criminals, get 
them "bunched," and then give them a square talk, give them a square 
job at square wages, give them a square meal, and a square chance 
and 99 out of 100 will square their elbows and point their nose to- 
wards a square future. Take the 1 of the 100 (if he won't be 
square when he has a good chance) throw him in a cell and throw 
the key away. Then every body is safe. The one in jail should 
have a chance if he will promise to take the job waiting for him 
at good pay and good treatment. In order to furnish jobs for the 
great army of criminals etc., a great factory should be founded by 
the rich of our city. The work should be light and agreeable. The 
profits should be shared by every employe up to a certain per cent., 
above that should go to the poor families, who have way-ward 
sons and daughters, to be used for the purpose of bringing them 
back to the influence of home-life and the benefits from the great 
factory, brought back from the gates of hell, from the gates of 
prison, from the horror of poverty, from the gates of ill fame to the 
gates of this great factory which swing open to welcome a new 
partner among the thousands of other partners who all own a 
partnership interest for life if they do nothing decidedly wicked, in 
case of which they forfeit their interests for a time or for life ac- 
cording to the offence. The devilment in these brothers and sisters 
of ours should not be bottled up entirely to start with, pull the 
cork and let it escape in "homeopathic doses." Don't try to choke 
them with dry tracks or flowery speeches- Have a chapel in the 
building, have a reformed criminal preach, who can still swear a 
little as well as deliver an oration. Three glasses of beer should 
he served each person (that desires same). The sermon should be 
split up in these acts, rag time music, skirt dancing etc. between 
acts, cuspidors supplied each seat, smoking and chewing allowed, 
swearing allowed between acts. Silence during sermon. A sermon 
by some of our great ministers once a month would be a good plan. 
Have beautiful music, illustrated songs and moving pictures of 
Christ's travels among the criminals and poor ; etc. etc. No smoking, 
chewing or swearing this day ; reform them by degrees ; eventually 
cut it down to' two Sudays without and two Sundays of the month 
with it. Then to three Sundays without and the one Sunday 
with ; always keep one Sunday with for the new partners of the 
great concern drifting in over the course of time and for those 
who will not wholly reform, but all should be at liberty to attend 
any meetings they choose. This is an incomplete thought roughly 
sketched. But it is the only sure way of reforming the criminals 















" t." 

1* H 

fc infer: 
fci I 


ijg^ylf s 



or keeping them out of mischief. I hope this budding thought will 
bloom in the minds of the rich and powerful citizens of Chicago. 
At least we should all do all we can for the poor; poverty is the 
curse that breeds more criminals than inclination. 

N. B. If the reader desires to help the poor of Chicago in 
some way write or call upon the Author of "Wicked City," No. 
2 Aldine Square, Chicago. There exists a practical plan whereby 
all classes of the poor can be benefited at little cost to the more 
fortunate. It is a NEW IDEA, investigate it. 


Chicago at one time justly earned the name of being the 
wickedest city in the world. It was a black spot upon God's green 
foot-stool, a spot that God had seemingly withdrawn from. A spot, 
upon this rolling ball of fire, smothered by fifty miles of earth in 
all parts except under this great city, where (it would seem) was 
so thinly crusted that smouldering hell's fire forced its way through 
to fuel the furnaces of evil then existing. Possibly you investigated 
the sociological conditions as they were then and are one of the 
many citizens who realized that this great hot bed of evil was 
burning the brand Wicked City deeply upon its walls to be read 
by the envious world, watching its growth with jealous eyes. If so 
your heart was saddened, your peace of mind destroyed, and civic 
pride humbled to the dust, that lay along the streets and by-paths 
of your investigations, dust that was swept by the courtesan's train 
and pressed by the heel of the thug or the confidence men of high 
and low life. You probably buckled on your armor and fought 
for your city's redemption with the rest who possesses the necessary 
intellect which embodies keen perception as well as fair intent, 
strength of purpose, a heart full of love and consideration for all 
living things though ant or man, woman or child, no matter how 
lowly or highly stationed in this world of strife for glory, gold, 
or the grace of God, imbued with enough civic pride (if a citizen 
of Chicago) to feel interested in its welfare. 

If you could follow us through the beautiful city of to-day, 
you will see the results of your labor towards redemption. You 
will find conditions quite different, even better than you could pos- 
sibly expect. Living right in the city, you even do not realize 
it. _ You are fighting _the old impression, still fiVhting the few old 
evils that do exist with even greater strength. Outsiders do not 
have the opportunity to judge conditions like yourself so let every 
public spirited citizen get up and blow his horn good and loud. 
When the city was of only one hundred thousand population and 
even more wicked than it is to-day, we all brayed so loud that it got 
the name of "windy city," but now we speak in awed whispers of 
Chicago, the wicked city, while the outside press comes out in bold 
headlines voicing the sentiment of the outside world. Ashamed 
of the name windy city that you had earned for your beautiful city, 


you dropped the horn and hardly a toot has been heard for it 
since. It still bears the name of "windy city" but even outsiders 
realize that it ceased to warrant the title after you laid down the 
tooting machine to pick up the "hammer." 

You hammered your unjust critics into the belief that your 
city is not a boyish, prattling thing full of much self praise but a 
world metropolis full of hell and hardened in crime. 

There was a certain time when politics were so rotten that 
an honest man would not enter the field, men were afraid to enter 
certain business callings on account of the stigma cast upon same 
by business bandits. 

On account of' the hard name the city had gained for itself, 
the outside merchants were afraid to come to Chicago and trade. 
The stockmen never got any further than the yards and the farmer 
did not come to Chicago at all unless to camp upon the outskirts. 
You could travel the down-town districts for weeks and never see 
a sun faded whisker or a tanned nose. 

Chicago has positively been redeemed but the outsiders as well 
as many of its citizens do not realize it. Tell them of it, now is 
the time to toot some facts into the ears of the world and dispel 
these erroneous impressions. Blow your trumpets with civic pride, 
for it can be justly done. 

Chicagouis redeemed in all but the name as the following pages 
will prove beyond doubt. The hatches of hell have been spiked 
down by the sinewy arms of law and order, spurred to heroic effort 
through civic pride. 

The hangman's noose will dangle idly in the air and the jails 
will be turned into school-rooms for the few criminals left. If you 
want to gamble in the new Chicago, you will have to go upon the 
floating palace of the lake, or gambol with the Harrison Street Billy 

You will clearly see that Chicago is now safe to purse and 
person, if you are to follow the ramblings of our pen and feet as 
we wander in and out through streets, alleys and by ways of the 
once wicked city. 

Bent upon our journey, we leave the home comforts for the 
streets and soon desert the pavements for a passing street car 
bound for the city's center. Nothing came under our notice worth 
recording (except the attempt of an obese lady to step off the mov- 
ing car backwards with the usual results,) until the crowded convey- 
ance reached Twenty-Second Street and was crossing Michigan 
Avenue. Here a wild-eyed auto fiend, (being chased by mounted 
police for exceeding the speed limit), drove his machine into the 
air and landed on us with all four wheels. The usual crowd of 
curious people gathered, the promptness of the Police Patrol, the 
wreck wagon and ambulance service was evidenced by their quick 
appearance upon the scene. In exactly two minutes after they 
came clanging down the street, the injured were being whisked 
away to a hospital, the offender off to jail, while the wreck wagon 


had freed us and was speeding from the scene, the crowd melting 
away quickly as it had gathered. The promptness and efficiency of 
the accident services speaks plainly of one phase of Chicago's im- 
provement. As we touched the old red-light district, upon round- 
ing into Wabash Avenue, the great changes made in this notorious 
street was plainly evident to the observer of years past and to-day. 
It has been redeemed and redeemed thoroughly. This street was 
one of the slimy arms of the great crime octopus, wallowing in the 
heart of the city, (Custom House Place, Boiler Avenue, So. Clark 
St., Plymouth Court, State etc.) From this bodied cesspool of 
crime branched forth many arms feeling their way into even the 
respectful sections as they grew in strength and length year by year, 
chaining the lovely city in an iron grip of social vice and crime of 
all descriptions. Segregation was tried with fair results but the 
dumpings of the World's Fair strengthened the body and sprouted 
new arms which crept up the boulevards as well as other sections 
as the moral ax of the aroused citizens severed the arms of social 
vice which was stealthily creeping into their streets to the very 
door steps, wrecking the peace of homes as the glare and blare of a 
genteel vice arm of this great octopus of crime proselyted their 
young from the paths of virtue. 

Wabash Ave. was the gateway through which the great south 
side residents passed to and from business, theatres, trains, boats 
and etc. The social evil overflowed the street, and seeped into the 
renting properties of beautiful Michigan boulevard and lower In- 
diana Ave., which became known as the haw-patch. Wabash and 
State became known as hell's divide, levee, black belt, forming one 
great toll-gate of social evil etc. Thousands of young men and 



girls passing through these districts fell into the dragnet snares of 
the gambler, harlot, pander, confidence man, pick-pocket, hold-up 
thugs, dive keepers, murderers etc. The price of toll was often 
paid to the thug with death, to the harlot and pander with loss 
of honor, to the confidence man and gambler with the loss of 
fortune, which often drove them to "suicide bridge." Many a rich 
man's daughter or her poorer sisters the beautiful working girl, 
were enticed into gilded palaces of shame, paying as toll the price 
of honor and sometime death in the cruel waters of the nearby 
lake. The main approaches to the business center of the north 
and west sides were somewhat similar. The conditions throughout 
the entire city at the time, (when Chicago justly earned in all 
parts of the world the title of wicked cityj were too horrible to 
relate in detail, hard as it is to guide your* pen around facts which 
came under the author's and his secretary's notice while study- 
ing sociological conditions in high as well as low circles. Many 
of these cold facts would tarnish the name of men and women 
of wealth and high social standing, who have reformed and are 
now leading a useful, pure and peaceful life, midst family and 
friends. Hundreds af the middle and lower classes have redeemed 
themselves also and are now living good, clean lives, many are in 
business for themselves, and many others are holding positions of 
trust, loyal to all, and proud of their redemption from crime . Many 
young people, especially girls, are drawn into crime or forced 
into it from circumstances over which they had no control, low 
wages, love of dress, possibly a sick mother, younger sisters and 
brothers to care for, and upon the other side the golden tempter, a 
designing department head, floor-walker or well-to-do customer, 
the factory foreman, or office employer. Many of these victims are 
merely children in years whose innocence was their greatest weak- 
ness and only sin. Hundreds of these white slaves held their posi- 
tions at the price of honor in order to furnish the necessities of 
life and add extra comforts for the invalid mother or babes of 
their humble homes. The knowledge of the many cases which came 
under our notice were sad, tipped shafts of sorrow. Weak men 
and_ willing women constitute t another sorrowful evil but the un- 
willing white slave is to be pitied above all, especially those who 
were decoyed by the thousands from all parts of the United States, 
Canada and Europe, to a life of shame through false representations 
by the hundreds of white slavedealers who infested Chicago during 
this time. These slave traders grew fat and prosperous off of the 
sale and earnings of these sisters of misfortune, one dealer alone 
would have as many ?s five located in different sections of the city, 
trading virtue for the gold he would collect from them daily, each 
happy in the believe that she alone was the love of his false heart. 
In the meantime his handsome face and polished manners were 
winning others from the path of duty. These would be supplied 
to the houses of ill fame at so much a head : here they were loaded 
with debts for clothes, fines, etc., and held slaves to payment or 


Many country girls were lured to the wicked city through ads 
promising lucrative employment. They were then tricked and con- 
joled or drugged. A high spirited girl who fought for honor some- 
times escaped the net but more often was tricked to the great North 
West to become slaves to the will of rough miners, lumbermen etc. 
Once corralled in one of the so-called dance halls of the new 
country, they found it impossible to escape ; such places were well 
guarde'd day and night. They were tricked to this place by an ap- 
parently sympathetic woman (an accomplice of the white slave 
dealer who pretended to rescue them from the Chicago fiend who 
in reality obtained a better price for these beautiful slayes in the 
new market of this lawless country). The horrors of this terrible 
life to a girl of refinement is easy to understand, some die of a 
broken heart or brutality which they are forced to endure until 
death relieves them or they can effect their escape. The bones of 
many girls were found buried under one of these places in Wash- 
burne, Wis. Often girls, as young as twelve years, were decoyed 
from France to the gilded palaces of shame that then existed in 
Chicago in great numbers. Dr. Peters of Wabash Ave. and Twenty- 
Second St., called our attention to one of these unfortunates, who 
had succeeded in escaping after three years of slavery. She was 
a physical and mental wreck and had lately attempted suicide be- 
cause her sisters shunned her. Aanother case of his was that of a 
once beautiful child, favorite daughter of a well known minister of 
Michigan. This innocent child of fifteen was inveigled to Chicago 
and betrayed by one of Chicago's most prominent business men 
(at that time). As her beauty began to fade from constantly knaw- 
ing remorse, she was cast penniless upon the street to starve or join 
the ranks of her fallen, money trafficking sisters of shame. She 
drank to drown her sorrows and in time became a bloated, coarse 
looking wench, full of running sores and poisonous blood. Lower 
and lower she sank until her moral senses were dead and the 
filthiness of her actions surpassed that of her person and its rag 
bedraggled covering. Three times she attempted to rob herself of 
the last thing that she possessed, life- As the doctor gently lifted 
a corner of the _ sheet, we saw that her last attempt had proved 
successful ; the sight that greeted us would prove a valuable object 
lesson to the watchful father or a careless girl. 

Truly the price of sin is disaster and premature death as the 
story proper contained in this book will prove beyond a doubt if 
read carefully and understandingly. The knowledge possessed by 
even one of the many physicians of the author's acquaintance in 
Chicago, would fill a larger book than this with tales that would 
wring sympathy from the heart and tears from the eyes of the 
reader. Girls entering Chicago are now perfectly safe from harm. 

During our verifying investigation of conditions as they really 
exist now, we found all depots supplied with sweet-faced, keen- 
eyed rescue ladies who watched every strange girl arriving in Chi- 
cago, until assured that they are safe from the evils every large 


city possesses to some degree. We have dwelt some time on this 
particular evil of white slave traffic, etc., as we earnestly desire to 
benefit those who lack experience and are liable to sin from ignor- 
ance of .any great city's pitfalls and its general wicked ways. In 
order that they may avoid danger, it should be plainly pointed out 
enabling them to recognise and avoid it, abling them to protect 
themselves from the many pitfalls dug along the pathway of the 
young girl or boy. These pitfalls are often glazed over to appear 
harmless as the path their feet have pressed in safety. It is the 
duty of every father or mother to point out these pitfalls along 
life's pathway; it is the young people's right to know. If they do 
not they are liable to be smothered in the arms of the devil himself 
in the guise of respectability. If this happens without their being 
fore-warned they should be pitied instead of censured. 

After three months of the most painstaking and rigid investi- 
gation by the author, his secretary and others (interested in sociol- 
ogy and the welfare of this once wicked c'ty,) we are pleased to be 
able to report that the city is redeemed in all but the name. We 
sincerely hope that our endeavors will help the public to see Chicago 
in its true light. 

We have done what we can in our small way and now leave 
the real work of showing that the Wicked City is redeemed to the 
all powerful Chicago press and its public spirited citizens whose 
voices reach the world through its columns. 

The press is a power for good if used 1 for same. 

We found the body of the great crime octopus dead and only 
here and there a bit of waning life in its once powerful arms. 

We found the following list of evils suppressed or driven out 
and one thousand extra police will be added to keep it down and 
out; and with the gates guarded the name Wicked City will soon 
fade from its walls forever. 

The child slave dealers, the Italian fagans, the schools of crime, 
the shoplifters and their devices, fake detective agencies, the phony 
jewe.lery salesman, the diamond sharks, the street and park beggars, 
the Chinese fan-tan games, trick slot machines, sweatshop evils, 
the poor children, conditions as they were and as they are today, 
the con man in politics and business, the woman window tappers, 
the police protection evil, municipal graft, justice shop graft, the 
strike graft, the anarchists and socialists, three card monte and shell 
game, the confidence men of the trains and depots, underground 
dens and their ratpits, the steamboat gamblers, holdup women, 
negro wenches and white, the confidence man in the pulpit, the 
free love cults, spirit fruit, etc., the electric saddles etc., of the 
racetrack, the injured husband racket, gouls of the cemeteries, street 
fakirs, give away games, etc., the hotel thieves, the rosin-fingered 
pickpockets, the white decoys of the brutal negro, negro confidence 
men of the parks, confidence men of the street and office, the tunnel 
disasters, the explosion on the lake front, the green goods game, 
the dollar stores, representation game, betting on height of Masonic 


Temple, also waiting to see it turn around, sale of temple, mock 
cigar auctions, etc., mock sale of furniture in houses fitted up for 
the purpose, exorbitant loan sharks, lawyers, doctors, spiritualists, 
mediums, tailors, theaters, old park, etc., panel houses, opium joints 
loaded crap games, stud poker, roulette, brace faro bank, wire 
tapping, employment agencies, marriage bureaus, mail order 
schemes, real estate schemes, mining stock schemes, get rich quick 
schemes of all kinds, low saloons with knock out drops annex, 
stalls, etc., women paid by the day to sit for company in concert 
saloons, marriage of colored men to white daughters of old soldiers 
who fought and died to liberate the black slave, the fence for 
crook's plunder, mischief making hen parties, mormon elders, men 
of affairs, the lax marriage and divorce laws, mind readers, nightly 
promenades of the youthful, jail deliveries, insuring innocent boys 
and girls and murdering them for insurance, bank check kiting, 
carrying fire-arms, winking at crime, free love, extermination of 
the horrible Italian Mafia society, heinous crimes of the brutal rape 
fiends of society, hinges of hell, infamous street walkers, impudent 
street gamins, incompetent officials. 

The go-between of judges and criminals. 

The jury fixers. 

The fake massage parlors. 

Fortune tellers, etc. 

The fake clothing store. 

The beer selling dance hall evil. 

Thugs at the polls. 

The fake ballot boxes. 

Theft of same and the bloody fights often ending in murder. 

The franchise limitations. 

Gift from a practical Christian. 

The narrow-minded church organizations who would not accept 
gifts from Christians who died in great theater fires. 

Criminal negligence of theater fire traps. 

The improvement of same today, etc. 

The fake cob-web wine merchants. 

The fake antique dealers. 

The fake dealers of pictures by old masters. 

The dishonest pig-dealers who buy filthy animals after death 
by cholera and selling meat to smaller dealer who innocently deals 
this poisonous cancer growing flesh by the pound to the poorer 
classes who are seldom able to afford higher class meats for the 
lean men and children. 

The collar and cuff fake banks who rob the poor workingman 
and girl of their hard earned savings. 

Fake horse sale marts. 

Fake coal dealers. 

Short weight schemes. 

Collecting payments and absconding, etc. 

The dead horseflesh dealers who furnish cheap restaurants and 


free counters of low saloons, also shipping it to foreign countries 
for canned meat. 

The foreign fortune hunter vampires. 

Hotel holdup fakes. 

Adulterated food bandits. 

Fake insurance companies preying upon the ignorant scrub 
women, etc. 

Fake plantation companies preying upon the middle class. 

Commission merchant graft. 

Barbershop holdup game. 

The cigarette evil. 

Fake restaurants. 

Obscene shows. 

Pool and billiard sharks. 

Cuban cigar fakirs. 

Trade journal fakes, (out of business with one exception). 

Cheap wholesale house fake. 

The patent thief. 

The society thief who steals his way into the prestige through 
misleading statements, etc. 

The bucket shop graft. 

The street sandwich sign nuisance. 

Spitting nuisance. 

Receiving dens of smugglers. 

Receiving dens for opium. 

Imitations of imported goods. 

Train robbers' retreat. 

Forgers' retreats. 

Blackmailing papers. 

The loop gang. 

West and north side gangs. 

The drugstore fakes. 

The fake express orders jobbers. 

Express package delivery fakes. 

Gangs of counterfeitors. 

Corrupt government officials and employees. 

Assignation houses. 

The mortgage foreclosing fakirs. 

Skin games in museums. 

Subscription fakes. 

Band of porch climbers. Y 

Band of break-o'-day milk and paper thieves. 

Band of professional blackmailers. 

Band of river pirates. 

Band of land pirates. 

Nameless evils too wicked to publish even in "Wicked City." 

Opium fiends. 

Opium dens. 

Cocaine fiends. 

Gold nugget scheme. 


Gold brick scheme. 

Sale of lewd pictures and photographs. 

Sale of evil literature. 

Obscene pictures in the penny slot machines. 

Private nurses for illegitimate children. 

Intoxicated children. 

Corrupt jail guards. 

Corrupt judges of election. 

Manufactury and sale of burglar's tools and fake gambling 

The theater, hotel, and lodging house fire trap. 

The pool rooms. 

The grade crossing where hundreds of lives have been ground 
out. (Grieveous shame.) 

Sure thing gambling. 

Gin drinking house wives. 

Jury bribers. 

Corrupt court officials. 

Fake bondsmen, etc. 

The merchandise installment order. 

Fake trusts. 

Fake picture enlargement concerns. 

Corrupt inspectors. 

Fake building contractors. 

The all-night saloons and wine rooms. 

Fake bargain ads. 

Improvement in bridewell and jails. 

Improved water service. 

Improved street service. 

Improved buildings. 

Street cars manners. 

The frosty circle of church supporters. 

The broadening views of prelates and their flocks now wel- 
come the sinner in the house of God. 

Insults to the noble prison and slum workers. 

The great charitable institutions for the old and the feeble, the 
young and the needy. 

Schools and playgrounds for the poor. 

The homes for fallen women, etc. 

The improvement of hospitals, nurses and physicians. 

The feathered-brained carpet knights of society. 

The highway robbers. 

The anonymous letter writing fiends. 

The assassination of public officials, etc. 

God's word divided by God's word dividers. 

The different religious denominations that so confused the sin- 
ner looking for comfort and seeking the grace of God. 

The tin stared, shake down, jimmy milk weed detectives. 

The fake jury service, etc, etc. 


This partial list will give the reader some idea of the evils 
a great city has to contend with, and the credit it deserves for 
sweeping crime from its streets, alleys, byways, and buildings. 
It is of course to be admitted that even the cleanest of housewives 
will some time overlook a stray bit here and there. It is possibly 
so in this case, but the present administration housewife and her 
co-operatives are swinging the moral broom with strenuous hands, 
and the final "redding" up will leave no crime remnants within its 


Names of some of the merchants and others who suffered at 
the hands of bandits during a "carnival of crime" in Chicago. 
Bandits mentioned in story known as the "long and short man" 
were mainly responsible for the holdups, robberies and murders in 
all parts of the city during one of these epidemics: 

NOTE. The mystery surrounding the killing of one brave mer- 
chant cleared up by story beginning on page 17. 

Thomas J. Marshall 378 W. Madison St. 

L. Klein, 14th and Halsted St. 

John Bowman, 1084 W. 12th St. 

St. Nicharls & Co., 300 W. Lake St. 

R. E. Morris, Tea, 165 Blue Island Ave. 

Joseph Modeika, 603 S. Jefferson St. 

W. S. Johnson, 121 Dearborn St. 

Packing House Market, 880 W. Madison St. 

Meine & Hinkle, Wells and Indiana St. 

Medical Mission, 45 Custom House Place. 

Cafetarie Catering Company, 46 Lake St. 

Peter Ackerman, 337 W. Madison St. 

Ruppert's Shoe Store, 106 Harrison St. 

Postal Station, 578 N. Clark St. 

Metropolitan "L" Station. 

Feldman & Cohen, 10 Rush St. 

A. V. Lane, 12th St. and Wabash Ave. 

W. H. Bender, 123 Chicago Ave. 

Adolf Gaul, Drugs, Clark and North Ave. 

Concordia Cemetery. 

Oughton's, drugs, 63d St. and Madison Ave. 

Larrig's Oyster and Chop House, 351 W. Madison St. 

New York Biscuit Company, Morgan and Randolph St., $2.000. 

John McHale, 113 Erie St. 

W. G. Stuart, 741-47th St. 

H. F. Myer, Fullerton and Clybourn Aves. 




C. M. Robinson, 187 N. Clark St. 

J. O. Reilly, 154 S. Morgan St. 

S. H. Heim, Rush and Ohio St. 

J. C. McClelland, 159 Van Buren St. 

Dabawskis, 26-28 Hickory St. 

E. A. Grannies, 158 N. Clark St. 

J. H. Herron & Co., 160 S. Water St. (Commission.) 

Fred Pfeiffer, 701 S. Wood St. 

Dr. Kinkons, 279 Grand Ave. 

H. Glamaarn, 2883 Throop St. 

Wm. Burdetr, 54 S. Water St. 

L. W. Schutte, 906 Wilson . 

Ewards Pharmacy. 504 W. Harrison St. 

Gus. Rheil, Franklin and Jackson. 

John Caryer, High and Blue Island. 

C. R. Brocket, 1664 N. Halsted St. 

Bell & Devin, Taylor and Jefferson St. 

Sam Luccit, 207 39th St. 

Adams St. Pharmacy, 175 Western Ave. 

Thos. W. Sweerey, 626 W. Harrison St. 

Alois Kabat, 518 W. 18th St. 



Micheel Simmons, 5th Ave. and Harrison. 

Williams & Coverts, 7040 S. Chicago Ave. 

Sam Golden, 98 Harrison St. 

Joseph Koldt, 892 Milwaukee Ave. 

Shermen & Walters, Lake and State St. 

Hotel Legrand, Wells and Kinzie St. 

Union dental College, $1000,00 "Holds ups, held Up." 

E. O. Love, 154 Throop St. 

Theodore Magdine, robbed of trousers while walking on street. 

Durand & Kaspers Co's. Union and Lake St. 

John Bredin & Co., $2300, 19 63rd St. 

Mrs. A. W. Eaton, held up in front of Inspector Shacks' Of- 
fice, N. State and Chestnut St. 

John Rikce, robbed and thrown in the river. 

H. Grover, 266 State St. 

Aswald Scheutoff, 42-48 Wentworth Ave. 

H. L. Van Glahn, 91 Clark St. 

H. L. Flower, 86-88, W. Madison. 

Street Car State St., Harmon and Peck Court. 

A. Boenert & Co., Steamship Agency, 92 La Salle St., $2,000. 

Fred Schefflers, 567 S. Morgan St. 

J. Mayer, W. 14th PI. and Newberry Ave. 

A. M. Levy, 362 Wabash Ave. 

Hanus Martin, banker, 295 W. 21st St. 

H. Schoemaker, 299 Wells St. 

H. B. Hartman, 1793 Western Ave. 

Curry & Algers, 393 S. Clark St. 

At Sub-Treasury, Pat Broderick, Wm. Skakel & Co., 48 Dear- 
born St. 

Beck Bros., 308 N. Franklin St. 

Joseph Williams, 97^2 Van Buren St. 

Martin Hamilton, 113 W. Ontario St. 

L. Morton Ballerd, N. Y. Wallace Mill. 

W. P. Burnhart, 1434 Michigan Ave. 

Mrs. J. J. Carrol 906 W. Adams St. 

Stephen Levandowskia, 3201 Laurel St. 

Miss Minnie Mukler, 388 E. Chicago Ave. 

J. E. Pierce of Charlevoix, Mich. 

Evanston Country Club. 

Dr. A. F. Olds, 309 Euclid Ave. 

P. Elwell, Center and Austin Ave. 

Mrs. Florence H. Prost. Auditorium Hotel. 

Mrs. May Kinslej', hotel, 56 May St. 

Mrs. James Jackson, 419 Randolph St. 

Andrew Dabaw?ki. 2628 Hickory St. 

Dr. J. Lidas, 279 Grand Ave. 

W. G. demons & W. G. Duffirldof of Wilkesbarre, 47th and 
Cottage Grove Ave. 

Guests of Auditorium Hotel. 

Alderman Gazzello. 


Charles Scharenburg, chief of River Forest police, held up 
and robbed of money, star and club. 

James Brothers, 5825 S. Halsted St., $500 and fired building. 

Abe Sheppard, Wm. VanOrnum, bookmakers, $1,440. 

Max Cohen, 3404 Forrest Ave., $1,500. 

Western Foundry Company, 36-40 S. Albany Ave., $1,600. 

Famous Restaurant, 51 Halsted St. 

I. C. Ticket Office, 60th St. 
. H. C. Wagner, Albany and Colorado Ave. 

S. Olson, N. Lincoln and W. Ohio St. 

Dan Beardon, 1832 Washington Ave. 

Moses Marion, 8 Rush St. 

Fred Zielers. 

Charles Schimmel, 1087 W. Van Buren St. 

Jos. Hannis, 48 Chicago Ave. 

Emil Schwensen, 84 Huron St. 

Howards, 33d and State St. 

Julius Hermenn & Co., Masonic Temple. 

Otto Micharls, 35th and Kinzie St. 

Great Western Ry., Maywood Station. 

Pete Brossman, Commission Merchant, 115 Exchange Build- 
ing, $3000.00. 

Aid. Buck McCarty. 

J. H. Dalhen, 413 Jackson Boulevard. 

Held up Wentworth Ave. car, crowded, daylight. 

Henri Kling, (German Count), Lorengo Mabes, (supposed 
prince of Naples.) 

F. G. Partridge, 2819 Indiana Ave., $1000.00. 

Soldier, 15th Inf., held up in Custom House Place. 

John Hurth, Miner, held up near 400 Clark St. 

John Murphy, 725 Root St. 

Held up in mid air, Jos. E. Spanheimer, Rep. of Wagnar 
Palace Car. 

Co in elevator, $512.00. 

Post Office, Auburn Park. 

Dr. R. A. Miley, 3301 Halsted St. 

F. B. McMillin, 101 N. State St. 

Christ Schultz, Clark and 12th St., $3500.00. 

J. Kun, Nathan & Fisher, Van Bnren and Franklin St. 

Mrs. Ellen Mcllroy, $1200.00, 205 Congress St. 

Mrs. W. E. Blair, 432 S. Oalkey. 

Safety deposit Vaults, Chamber of Commerce Bldg. Diamonds 

Chas. .Moran, theatrical man, $1000.00, 14 Clark St. 

Mrs. D'Alville, 1240 Michigan Ave. 

Prof. Gray and E. Gray, $2000.00. 

A. J. Graham. 

Frank E. Zahner, 30271-2 S. Park Ave. 

Leopold Wall, 508 37th St., $1000.00. 


Matthias Dicker, 219 Division St. 

Stanley Clayhomer, 3214 Laurel St., shot by masked robbers. 

M. G. Dealy, 791 W. Van Buren St., attorney. 

Albert Elston, $458.00. 

Street Car, Wentworth Ave., F. M. Carsley, $1,600. 

Henry Schiffler, Manager of the Monaco gambling hall, and 
four men escorts, also Mayor of Minonk. 

Kittie Wells, one time dubed "Queen of the Levee." 

P. S. Schmann, 129 W. 51st St. 

Edward Pickard, Ass't. City Auditor.,' 305 La Salle Ave. Held 
up and shot. 

Mrs. Zimmermen, 3412 Waba^h Ave., Jewelry, $1,800. 

J. W. Colton, Plymouth and Taylor St. 

John Kipper, 337 5th Ave. 

J. C. Vanderpose, 4904 Princeton Ave. 

Cisero & Proviso, Archer Ave. cars, 12th St. trolley. 

Cisero & Proviso, again in two days, and again two days later, 
6 times in a month. 

James Schneider, 5901 Halsted St., and hundreds of others too 
numerous to mention. 

Some of the other stores that suffered losses during the great 
carnival of crime were: Marshall Field & Co., Carson, Pine, 
Scott & Co., Chas A. Stevens & Bros., Mandel Bros., The Boston 
Store, The Fair, Rothschild & Co., Siegel, Cooper & Co., etc., etc. 
Some of the largest and best protected stores in America. 

NOTE Medical experts claim that during the great carnivals 
of crime there were 5,000 insane people at liberty in Chicago. Due 
mainly to the enormous strain of commercial competition and 
nervous dread. 

A death every fifteen minues. 

A murder every seventy hours. 

A suicide every eighteen hours. 

A serious accident, necessitating nurse's or physician's care, 
every four minutes. 

A fatal accident every five hours. 

A case of assault and battery every twenty-six minutes. 

A burglary every three hours. 

A holdup every six hours. 

A disturbance of the peace, to attract attention, every six 

A larceny every twenty minutes. 

An arrest every seven minutes and thirty seconds. 

A fire every hour. 

An arrest for drunkenness every fifteen minutes. 

7,000 policemen were being kept busy day and night. 

City Statistician Hugo S. Grosser says that the streets of Chi- 
cago were during the epidemic of crime "a veritable battlefield, 
bloody as any of the battlefields of war." 


352 persons were killed and 3,716 injured in accidents in 6 

NOTE. The Author in his story speaks of an underground den. 
Could this be it? 

Mattie Lee, 150 Custom House Place, has been frequently 
raided and the police have always wondered why they never found 
inmates at home. Reports of robberies have prompted the raids. 
Another raid was planned. Detectives Woolridge and Schubert 
who carried the warrant found the house deserted as usual. Be- 
fore going to the doors, they had stationed officers outside and no 
one was seen 1 to leave. A search of the house was then made, and 
a secret middle room was discovered, also a trap door in the floor, 
beneath it was a dark passageway leading under, ground, from this 
the officers traced a tunnel extending 200 yds. 

(Chicago Herald.) 

Tillie Beekson, Cashier at Kliens, says of the short man; "I 
saw that his eyes and hair were brown, I remember too that I 
thought what a horrible face he had, he was very dark, and his 

face was covered with blotches" ,.: 

It was the short man with the blotched face -who grabbed the 
money from the cash drawer, while the tall, thin man stood" on 

guard with two big revolvers 

(Chicago Chronicle.) 

J. O'Conner, (Rupperts) says: "The taller of the two men 
was very light complexioned, about 24 years old, wore dark clothes 
of good material, a stiff hat and a white linen collar. The short 
man was about 27 years old, 5 feet, 5 or 6 inches and chunky build. 
His complexion was dark, and there were pimples or pock marks 
all over his face." 


NOTE. This description fits the bandits who figure in the story 
beginning on page 220, Part II. 

The American famous man hunter of Kansas' wild days says 
crimes of forty nations are rampant here. 

"Bat" Masterson, who declares Chicago to be the wickedest 
city in the world, speaks as an expert on the subject of wickedness- 

As Sheriff on the Kansas frontier between '76 and '81 when the 
"bad man" was in his glory and the Colt's revolver upheld the 
majesty of the law, he gained lots of insight into the ways of the 



















L. M. Smith, well-known banker and broker, was preparing 
for a southern trip. He was necessarily brief and to the point 
regarding his views of Chicago. 

Chicago was a wicked city? Yes. Chicago being redeemed? 
Yes. Chicago to become the greatest city in the world? Yes. 
Business bandits weeded out? Yes. That Chicago has the most 
rapid growth of any city? Yes. That under the circumstances it 
is being well governed? Yes. That the social side of Chicago 
compares favorably with other cities? Yes, indeed. 

Gordon Strong & Co. operate one of the most unique buildings 
in Chicago. It is a gold and marble monument of Chicago's rapid 
growth. The business districts having become so conjested that 
the idea of erecting one street above another, hundreds of feet in 
the air was practical and necessary. These streets of marble in 
the air were planned and. built by Gen. Henry Strong, one of the 
heroes of the Civil War. Mr. Carey, the manager, informed the 
interviewer that hundreds of sightseers from all parts of the coun- 
try visit the building daily out of curiosity. 

The Republic Building is only a fair sample of what is being 
done towards making this a city of wonders. 


Commissioner Bingham, New York Honest men in office and 
honest men under them is the general rule for the formation of 
an ideal police force. 

Director Moore, Pittsburg The first thing necessary is a man 
who is fearless and capable at the head of the department. He 
should be given full power and not be hampered by political in- 
fluence or any other consideration. 

Superintendent M'Quaide, Pittsburg In Chief Collins Chicago 
has one of the most able men in the country, and if the people of 
Chicago and the officials of the city will stand by him he will 
make it the cleanest great city in the world. 

Chief Delaney, Denver All ex-convicts should be closely 
watched. Once a week the city should be given a thorough clean- 
ing by the dragnet, and all who could not give an account of them- 
selves should be vagged. 

Chief Taylor, Philadelphia Make the beats shorter and in- 
crease the force of detectives in the crime center districts. 

Lieutenant Miller, Milwaukee Give orders to throw into jail 
every well-known crook that can be found in the city. Send him 
to jail for vagrancy. 



Young and McCombs, merchant princes of Rock Island, 111., 
when interviewed by secretary said : We are heartily pleased to 
hear of Chicago's redemption. We believe this voices the senti- 
ments of all the merchants in all parts of the country. It is a 
fact that many have been timid about visiting the Great Central 
Market in the past. This book proving Chicago's redemption 
will become a power for good. And Mr. Stevens, the author, 
certainly deserves the highest praise from the two millions of 
residents of Chicago as well as the thousands of outside merchants 
who prefer Chicago as a trading point. We are in a position to 
know positively just how Chicago is viewed by the outside mer- 
chants and others. It has been viewed by all as the wickedest 
city in the world, and an unsafe city to visit. We are two of a 
few who know of the redemption from personal observations, and 
the facts recorded in this work should be brought to the attention 
of the millions, who still believe Chicago the wicked city. Let the 
voice of the Chicago citizens (who know of its redemption) be 
heard through the all-powerful press, it will draw thousands of 
people and add millions of dollars to a city now destined to 
become the Ideal City of the World. 



Prize offers pages 37-345- 

The time allowed the reader in 
which to find the well hidden words 
and sentences will be three months from 
the time he or she buys this book. 

The prizes will be awarded at any 
time the reader sends correct solutions. 

You will be very lucky or unusually 
keen if you find some of these hidden 
sentences and words. Apparent errors 
in punctuation and phraseology may 
help to hide them well. 

Examine every scrap of reading from 
cover to cover. They might be staring 
up at you from these very lines. 

You can visit the places where the 
prizes are to be put on exhibition, if still 
there you yet have a chance, no matter 
if you are late in getting the book. 

Everything fair and simple. 

You will own them if you earn them 
and you will certainly earn them if you 
ever own them, for you have no easy 
task. Address all communications to 
Private Secretary, 2 Aldine Square, Chicago. 








Like a dream 

But yesterday night 
It does seem, 

Was the Red Man's last fight. 

Yet, from Indian band, 

From custom old and brave settlers few, 
From wooded slumber land 

A great and beautiful city grew. 

A city full of wonders, 

A city full of push and vim, 
Reviled by jealous Londoners, 

Skepticism and witty criticism being the world's 



Keep on a going, 

You will beat old London town ; 
Keep on a growing, 

And you will be wearing the crown ; 
The crown that fits the greatest city of all, etc., etc. 

With modest condecension, 

We checked our just pride, 
And our beautiful city ceased to mention 

Until a new hobby the skeptics began to ride. 

From scandal perches they did bawl, 

Wickedest city in the world ; 
Branding it deep upon our city wall 

The fading name "windy" smothered by the new one hurled. 

Spurred on by civic pride, 

We buckled up our armour 
And against the devil did ride, 

Driving him back to regions warmer. 

We won a great battle 

Fighting for our city's good name: 
We silenced the world's prattle 

And put the slanders to shame. 

From wage earners to prince of finance 

Went up a battle-cry fearful, 
Went up the battle lance 

That won the name, CITY BEAUTIFUL. 

A world metropolis today, 

Greatest city of the Nation ; 
Bravely fighting its way 

To just appreciation. 

The old names are fast fading away, 
CITY BEAUTIFUL takes its proper place, 

And upon the city walls it will forever stay 
A world's beacon light, A TRUTH TO FACE. 

Keep on a going, 

You will beat old London town; 
Keep on a growing, 

And you will be wearing the crown ; 
The crown that fits the greatest city of all ; 


The crown that fits its merchant princes; 
The <:rown that fits the safest city of all ; 

The crown that fits its honest wage earners; 
The crown that fits the cleanest city of all; 

The crown that fits its honest politicians; 
The crown that fits the most hospitable city of all; 

The crown that fits the loyal press ; 
The crown that fits the richest city of all. 

The crown that fits its millionaires and the poor as well; 

The crown that fits the swiftest growth of all; 
Its building being but a night's fancy and the strenuous work of a 

Compared to the dear old mother cities across the briny way. 

The above ode to Chicago by the author of "Wicked City," is 
dedicated to the members of the Chicago Commercial Association. 

This association deserves much of the credit due the great 
army of sturdy knights who took up the lance in defence of Chi- 
cago's good name. 

They will not loosen a buckle until the fact of its redemption 
is known, recognized and accepted by the people of the great out- 
side world, who are not here to judge and see for themselves what 
has been done and what is being done to keep Chicago as holy as 
it is beautiful. 

The followin speeches (in part), de i; vered by its la president 
and the city's mayor were warmly accepted as the sentiment of the 
members and guests at a banquet lately held in the Auditorium- 


There was lively music prior to the delivery of the speeches- 
Professor Johnny Hand was the directing genius, his piece de resist- 
ance being "Stein Song," which he inaugurated by leaping onto 
a chair with a half-filled stein in one hand and a baton in the 
other. The audience responded lustily, much to the leader's joy. 
The applause was so sincere that Mr. Hand ordered for an encore 
"The Good Old Summer Time." 

Those at the speakers' table beside Toastmaster Shedd and 
Mayor Dunne were the following: 

Rt. Rev. C. P. Anderson. C A. Stevens. 

Judge Jesse Holdom. C. A. Goodnow- 

Lafayette McWilliams. J. Harry Selz. 

J- M- Johnson. George H. Crosby. 

J. V. Farwell, Jr. Joseph Basch. 

E. D. Hulburt. Isaac Keim. 

Frank B. Noyes. B. M. Hanney. 

J. S. Seymour. M. B. Starring. 

J. H. Calhoun. T. E. Mitten. 

A. A. McCormick. Franklin MacVeagh. 


E. A. Bancroft. Erskine M. Phelps. 

A. M. Compton. A. L. Baker. 

J. W. Scott. Frederick Herman Gade- 

J. E. Wilder. Arthur D. Wheeler. 

E. G. Foreman* T. K. Webster. 

W. . Wilson. John R. Thompson. 

D. R. Forgan. Frank Wenter. 

W. J. Harahan. Dr. Paul Carus- 

H. W. Seymour. Robert W. Gertz, Boston. 

Leigh Reilly. Henry A- Ware, Boston. 

A. Wygant. Emil A. Gertz, Hanover, 


John G- Shedd presented the several speakers. His opening 
speech was directed to the Mayor of Chicago, who sat at his right. 

"We are here to-night, happy and unanimous," he said, "to 
light new and vestal fires upon the altar of Chicago, every wor- 
shiper dedicating his homage to the past, his hope to the future, 
and his unconquerable will to the work of to-day." 


A few moments later Mr. Shedd turned to the mayor and said: 

"Therefore to you, Mr. Mayor, and to all your worthy suc- 
cessors, we now offer the sympathy of all Chicagoans who believe 
that not in partisanship and spoils, but in the three civic virtues 
preached by President Roosevelt, in honesty, courage and common 
sense, lies the hope of our great cities and of a greater Chicago. 

"Although we speak in forty-four tongues, yet is the tower 
we' build no Babel, for out of confusion cometh unity. This tower 
set four squares to all the best that blows is a new world citizen- 
ship wrought of two score peoples harmonized 1 in 300 public schools, 
and taught to intelligently and patriotically seek the practice and 
ideals of liberty, equality and fraternity."' 

Mr. Shedd was applauded when in speaking for co-operation 
between business men and the city government he said : 

"In co-operation we shall have perfect urban transportation, 
business men, business methods and business results in the city 
hall ; charter improvements leading toward economy, order and 
justice; the elimination of partisenship of all kinds in school ad- 
ministration and the expansion of the schools as academies of com- 

The Mayor of city beautiful said : 

"I am pleased to be present and to meet so many of my fellow 
citizens who stand high in the commercial world of the City of 
Chicago. Next to his country, every citizen dwelling in a city 
should have the particular interests of his city at heart. And I 
have yet to meet a Chicagoan who is not proud of his city proud 
of its present and hopeful and sanguine of its future. 

"We are met to-night to consider primarily what is for the 
best interests of this great and growing city. What are its draw- 


backs, if any, and what measure we can devise and further to insure 
its future development and prosperity. 

"Chicago, in my judgment, is the greatest city of America, 
not in population nor in wealth, but in energy, activity and vitalized 
ambition in both commercial and economic directions. It is the 
nerve center of America, from which pulsates and throbs the ad- 
vanced thought and energy of the American people. 


"It is a city of palaces and hovels, a city of churches and of 
charnel houses, a city of millionaires and mendicants, into which 
has poured the children of every race and clime upon earth, and 
it has been rapidly assimilating all classes of people into good 
American citizenship. It is the theater of political action. It is the 
center of political economic thought. It is a city of courage and 

"We all love Chicago and heartily wish for its future prosperity 
and development. You men, leaders in the commercial world of 
Chicago, are anxious to attract to it the trade and commerce of 
the Northwest, and I am heartily desirous, and I know the offi- 
cials of the City of Chicago are equally desirous, of aiding your 
wishes in that direction, and no stone will be left unturned to as- 
sijt you in benefiting this city which we love and in which we 

"We should encourage in every possible way the holding of 
commercial, fraternal and other conventions in this city. We should 
advertise the advantages and resources of our city in every pos- 
sible direction. Because of our magnificent location in the center 
of the Northwest, because of our magnificent railway and water 
facilities, we ought to be able, and we are able, to sell merchandise 
of every ^character in this city upon as economic a basis as any city 
in America." 

A complete list of the guests at the "Mayor's Dinner," given 
by the Chicago Commercial Association, follows: 


Adam, A. B. Edson Keith & Co. 
Adams, J. M. Art Bedstead Company. 
Adams, P. W. Art Bedstead Company. 
Anderson, W. G. Juergens & Anderson. 
Armbruster, F. P. Burley & Tyrrell. 
Audebert, E. A. Audebert Wall Paper Mills. 
Ash, M. L. Kuh, Nathan & Fischer. 
Austin, M. B. M. B. Austin & Co. 
Adams, J. L. H. O. Stone & Co. 
Allen, Bert A. Curtis H. Allen. 
Allen, Charles B. United States Rubber Co. 
Ackers, T. B. Shoe and Leathern Association. 
Aishton, R. H. Chicago and Northwestern Ry. 


Baith, L. L. Edward Hines Lumber Company. 

Babcock, A. J. Manning, Maxwell & Moore. 

Baker, Alfred L. Alfred L. Baker & Co. 

Baker, W. N. Trout Hardware Company. 

Bales, Fred T. Lord & Bushnell Company. 

Barker, W. G. Hibbard, Spencer, Bartlett & Co. 

Barbour, F. Critchell, Miller, Whitney & Barbour. 

Barlow, H. C. Chicago Shippers' Association. 

Barness, James M. Marshall Field & Co. 

Barrett, R. B. Barrett Bindery Company. 

Barnhart, Kenneth Marshall Field & Co. 

Barrett, M. L. M. L. Barrett & Co. 

Bass, P. D. 

Beachel, Charles F. Sewall-Clapp Mfg. Co. 

Becker, B. F. Becker-Mayer & Co. 

Becker, A. W. Becker-Mayer & Co. 

Beifeld, A. Beifeld, Hirsch & Kline. 

Benjamin, E. O. Roth Brothers & Co. 

Bennett, N. J. 159 LaSalle street. 

Bennett, W. N. Cotton Belt Lumber Company. 

Burns, John E. John E. Burns Lumber Company. 

Buerger, Arthur Schoelkopf & Co. 

Bredemeier, E. W. E. D. St. George Mfg. Co. 

Berg, John John Berg & Brothers. 

Baroett, M. Joseph Phillipson. 

Boyd, Henry Shoe and Leather Association. 

Baifre, George P. Shoe and Leather Association. 

Brown, R. D. Shoe and Leather Association. 

Bernard, W. A. Shoe and Leather Association. 

Burt, A. G. Shoe and Leather Association. 

Bradley, F. J. Shoe and Leather Association. 

Barnhart, Morris. 

Butler, J. Fred. 

Bryan, W. C. A. C. Becken. 

Becken, A. C. A. C. Becken. 

Bent, Charles A. George P. Bent. 

Benzinger, A. The Hub. 

Best, A. Starr A. Starr Best Company. 

Biggs, F. H. Nonotuck Silk Company. 

Black, S. H. Bauer & Black. 

Blackman, H. E. The John Davis Company. 

Blount, F. M. Chicago National Bank. 

Blum, Simon Blum Brothers. 

Blum, Julius. 

Brenner, Nathan T. 

Bobo, John L. John L. Bobo & Co. 

Bobo, Fred M. 

Bode, Frederick Gage Brothers & Co. 


Burton, Charles G. National Electric Company. 

Brauer, Paul. 

Brauer, Casp. 

Brede, M. L. Albert Pick & Co. 

Breining, J. C. Hibbard, Spencer, Bartlett & Co. 

Brintnall, W. H. Drovers' Deposit National Bank. 

Brigham, Edmund D. C. & N. W. Ry. 

Brown, E. LeRoy S. S. Page. 

Brown, Charles E. Central Electric Company. 

Brown, John H. Gutta Percha and R. Mfg. 

Brown, W. F. E. I.. Hedstrom & Co. 

Bruce, C. A. Miller & Hart. 

Buchanan, W. W. Baker- Vawter Company. 

Budinger, F. Keith Bros. & Co. 

Buel, M. P. E. S. B. Co. 

Burke, E. A. Hibbard, Spencer, Bartlett & Co. 

Brown, W. H. Sturges & Brown Mfg. Co. 

Bush, William H. William H. Bush & Co. 

Bush, J. M. Acme Mfg. Co. 

Buttolph, R. B. W. M. Hoyt Co. 

Buttolph, A. C. W. M. Hoyt Co. 

Buxbaum, E. Kuh, Nathan & Fischer. 

Byles, L. M. Nelson Morris & Co. 

Byrne, J. P. Lyon & Healy. 

Castle, Charles B. American Trust and Savings Bank. 

Cheney, J. T. Burley & Tyrell. 

Cleney, J. E. J. W. Sefton Manufacturing Co. 

Conway, E. S. W. W. Kimball Company. 

Craig, C. F. Metropolitan Savings Bank. 

Carpenter, Benjamin George B. Carpenter & Co. 

Cahn, S. B. H. F. Hahn & Co. 

Covert, Rev. W. C. 

Cunningham, Frank S. Butler Brothers. 

Creelman, F. E. F. E. Creelman Company. 

Cook, W. C. Western Trust and Savings Bank. 

Combs, P. W. Audelbert Wall Paper Mill. 

Colvin, Edwin M. W. F. Hall Printing Company. 

Cleveland, J. M. Cable Company. 

Cox, A. F. Teno Mfg. Co. 

Coleman, W. O. Burley & Co. 

Colbert, D. V. Miller & Hart. 

Cofran, J. W. G. Cofran & Dugan. 

Coey, Grant Hettler Lumber Company. 

Cloft, Clement Sewall, Clapp Mfg. Co. 

Chester, H. W. Hibbard, Spencer, Bartlett & Co. 

Charles, J. J. Hibbard, Spencer, Bartlett & Co. 

Case, E. B. Moore, Case, Lyman & Herrick. 


Crampton, R. L. National Bank of the Republic. 
Casey, E. L. Herman H. Hettler Lumber Co. 
Carr, C. M. Joseph T. Ryerson & Co. 
Cahn, Morten D. Benjamin R. Cahn. 
Cahn, Benjamin R. Benjamin R. Cahn. 

Dair, C. E. Rothschild Company. 

Davis, S. S. Inter. Shirt & C. Company. 

Day, Chapin A. M. F. & Co., wholesale. 

Denvir, J. F. Becker, Mayer & Co. 

Defebaugh, J. E. American Lumberman. 

Diggles, J. W. Diggles & Gordon. 

Dixon, George W. Arthur Dixon Mfg. Co. 

Dodge, O. D. P. G. Dodge Lumber Company. 

Dodge, E. F. P. G. Dodge Lumber Company. 

Drain, C. L. Marshall Field & Co. 

Drake, L. M. Critchell, Miller, Whitney & Barbour. 

Draper, H. L. Cable Company. 

Duncan, James W. 

Duncan. John A. Hollis & Duncan. 

Dunn, W. P. W. P. Dunn Company. 

Durand, Elliott Heath & Milligan Mfg. C6. 

Eastman, Robert M. W. F. Hall Printing Co. 

Ebeling, George Gage Bros. & Co. 

Eden, W. L. Paul Brauer. 

Ederheimer & Co. 

Edwards, J. T. L. Gould & Co. 

Eitel, Emil Hotel Bismarck Company. 

Eitel, Karl Hotel Bismarck Company. 

Emmerich, E. E. Charles Emmerich & Co. 

Fay, John B. A. C. McClurg & Co. 
Fenton, W. T. National Bank of the Republic. 
Ferguson, Louis Chicago Edison Company. 
Field, Stanley Marshall Field & Co., wholesale. 
Finn, Joseph M. Albert Pick & Co. 
Finnigan, R. J. Joseph Stockton Company. 
Fisk, H. S. Dry Goods Reporter. 
Fisher, C. Juergens & Anderson. 
Fitzgerald, H. J. Fitzgerald Trunk Company. 
Fleetwood, Stanley Fleetwood & Pellet. 
Fleishman, M. S. M. S. Fleishman Company. 
Flershem, W. Lapp & Flershem. 
Floersheim, Jacob J. Floersheim Company. 
Florsheim, M. S. Kabo Corset Company. 


Ford, W. J. Burley & Tyrrell. 

Foreman, Edwin G. Foreman Brothers' Bank. 

Forgan, D. R. First National Bank. 

Foster, Charles K. American Radiator Company. 

Francis, P. D. Trade Periodical Company. 

Francis, William Francis & Nygren Foundry. 

Frank, David Albert Pick & Co. 

Gale, George C. Peninsular Stove Company. 

Ganaghu, T. F. Ganaghu Brothers. 

Gatzert, August Rosenwald & Weil. 

Gauger, John A. John L. Bobo & Co. 

Gault, A. E. Schultz & Hirsch Company. 

Gerould, F. W. A. G. Spalding & Brothers. 

Gertz, Emil Cable Company. 

Gertz, R. W. Cable Company. 

Gilbert, James H. Metropolitan T. and S. Bank. 

Gilmer, Thomas L. Sewall-Clapp Mfg. Co. 

Gould, Frank Le Gould & Co. 

Gradwell, Ricord Oliver Typewriter Company. 

Grady, J. E. Oliver Typewriter Company. 

Grammen, G. New York Central Lines. 

Graves, A. M. Hibbard, Spencer, Bartlett & Co. 

Greer, Frederic Harvard Electric Company. 

Groth, M. A. Mahin Advertising Company. 

Guise, A. C. Mahin Advertising Company. 

Gunther, C. F. C. F. Gunther. 

Guthmann, Richard Richard Guthmann Trans. 


Hagan, H. M. Johnson & Tomek. 

Hahn, Harry W. H. F. Hahn Company. 

Hahn, H. S. H. F. Hahn Company. 

Hahn, E. J. H. F. Hahn Company. 

Budinger, T. Keith Brothers & Co. 

Hanck, C. E. Francis & Nygren Foundry. 

Harahan, W. J. Illinois Central Railroad. 

Hardin, John H. F. A. Hardy Company. 

Healy, C. F. N. K. Fairbank Company. 

Hebard, Frank Hebard Van Company. 

Hener, August A. S. Klein Company. 

Herrick, Charles E. Ellsworth & Cross Company. 

Hewitt, W. H. Pitkin & Brooks. 

Hester, Stephen. 

Herzog, L. Lyon Brothers. 

Hill, E. K. Heywood Bros. & Wakefield Co, 

Hill, C. H. Heywood _ Bros. & Wakefield Co. 

Hines, Edward E. Hines Lumber Company. 


Hirsch, Morris Beifeld, Hirsch & Kline. 
Hirsch, S. J. Hirsh, Wickwire & Co. 
Hoefeld, Albert Albert Hoefeld. 
Holden, J. E Marshall Field & Co., retail. 
Holloway, H. G. James S. Kirk & Co. 
Howell, William Burley & Tyrrell. 
Howell, C. D. E. Illinois Brick Company. 
Hurlbut, Charles J. H. W. Rogers & Bro. 
Hypes, W. F. Marshall Field & Co. 


Jacobsen, R. C. Jacobsen Publishing Company. 
Jakubowske, Karl M. S. Fleishman & Co. 
Jenkins, George R. George R. Jenkins & Co. 
Jenks, Parker A. Hollis & Duncan. 
Johnson, W. H. Anchor Line. 
Johnson, J. M. Gould Lines. 
Judson, W. B. American Lumberman. 
Juergens, W. M. Juergens & Anderson. 


Karpen, Adolph S. Karpen Brothers. 

Karpen, Solomon S. Karpen Brothers. 

Kawin, M. Kawin & Co. 

Kayser, Charles W. Joseph Wild & Co. 

Keefe, D. G. Cable Company. 

Kellogg, J. L. Shoe and Leather Association. 

Kelsey, M. N. Baker- Vawter Company. 

Kelsey, P. T. Baker- Vawter Company. 

Kent, H. R. Fort Dearborn National Bank. 

Kerrigan, P. B. Shoe and Leather Association. 

Kerstein, J. M. Shoe and Leather Association. 

Kilbourne, L. B. C. H. Weaver & Co. 

Kimball, A. S. Shoe and Leather Association. 

Kimball, C. N. W. W. Kimball Company. 

Kimball, R. E. Rathborne, Hair & Ridgway. 

Kimball, W. G. Pittsburg Plate Glass Company. 

King, A. N. Shoe and Leather Association. 

Kiper, Herman Shoe and Leather Association. 

Kiper, Charles Shoe and Leather Association. 

Kirschberger, W. A. M. Born & Co. 

Kline, Samuel J. B. Kuppenheimer & Co. 

Kline, Sol Beifeld, Hirsch & Kline. 

Kline, A. S. A. S. Kline Company. 

Kling, Leopold Kling Brothers & Co. 

Kohn, Isaac A. Selz, Schwab _& Co. 

Kroeschell, William L. American Can Company. 

Kuh, J. S. Kuh, Nathan & Fischer. 

Kuhlmey, Albert Shoe and Leather Association. 


Kuhlmey, Albert A. Ortmayer & Son. 
Kundstadter, A. Kunstadter Brothers. 
Kuppenheimer, L. B. B. K. Kuppenheimer Co. 
Kuppenheimer, A. B. B. K. Kuppenheimer Co. 

Lamb, C. S. Pittsburg Plate Glass Company. 

Lance, L. C. Simmons Manuf'g. Co. 

Lawton, L. C. Duck Brand Company. 

Schman, William. Gage Downs Company. 

Lederer, W. D. Lederer Brothers & Co. 

Levering, Mortimer Mallory Com. Company. 

Levy, S. H. Shoe and Leather Association. 

Levy, Larry Sturm, Mayer & Co. 

Lincoln, George E. Mergenthaler Linotype Co. 

Loper, Charles D. Mullen & Co. 

Lord, D. M. Metropolitan Trust and Sav. Bank. 

Lowe, Willard W. Electric Appliance Company. 

Lusch, H. B. Continental National Bank of Chicago* 

Linn, Frank Hibbard, Spencer, Bartlett & Co. 

Lyon, Cooper Cleveland Faucet Compnay. 

Lyon, Mark T. Lyon Brothers. 

Lytton, Henry C. The Hub. 

Lytton, George The Hub. 


McLauchlan, A. C. Shoe and Leather Association. 
MacNiven, H. E. Joseph Stockton Co. 
McAdow, F. H. Staver Carriage Company. 
Marks, C. V. Shoe and Leather Association. 
McBride, William Shoe and Leather Association. 
McBride, G. J. Summer, Jones & Co. 
McClary, H. C Fairbanks, Morse & Co. 
McCorkle, J. H. Janeway & Carpenter. 
McFuen, W. R. Bartlett Manufacturing Co. 
McFarland, Henry J. Shoe and Leather Association. 
McMillan, W. J. N. K. Fairbank Co. 
McRoy, George G. A. B. Adam. 
Mallen, H. W. H. Z. Mallen & Co. 
Manchee, 0. A. L. Gould & Co. 
Mann, J. P. Morris, Mann & Reilly. 
Mansure, E. L. E. L. Mansure Co. 
Merchant, S. F. Pilcher-Hamilton Company. 
Marimon, Frank Sheldon School. 
Marks, Kossuth Critchell, Miller, W. & B. 
Marsh, Charles A. Mr. Defebaugh. 
Masters, E. Rathbone, Hair & Ridgeway. 
Mathews, Al Cumner, Jones & Co. 
Manns, J. E. Schwarzschild & Sulzberger, 
Maxwell, Charles E. S. A. Maxwell, 


Maxwell, Edward E. S. A. Maxwell & Co. 
Mayer, Morris Sturm, Mayer & Co. 
McLeish, Andrew Carson Pirie, Scott & Co. 
Michael, John C John C. Michael & Oaks. 
Miller, G. S. Shoe and Leather Association. 
Miller, Maurice Shoe and Leather Association. 
Miller, B. C Critchell, Miller W. & B. 
Miller, John G. John G. Miller & Co. 
Miller, Fred H. Kehm, Fietsch & Miller. 
Miller, W. H. Miller & Hart. 
Miller, W. E. Fairbanks, Morse & Co. 
Moeng, E. D. Paul Brauer. 
Moody, F. K. Pilcher-Hamilton Company. 
Mooney, W. C W. W. Mooney & Sons Co. 
Moore, W. S.-W. S, Moore & Co. 
Morris, Harry Morris, Mann & Reilly. 
Morton, A. H. Sturm, Mayer & Co. 
Morrow, Charles B. Great Western Fix. Wks. 
Muller, Lewis G. Northern Bank Note Co. 
Murray, Joseph E. Butler Brothers. 
Musgrave, Harrison Musgrave, Vroman & Co. 


Neilson, J. D. Shoe and Leather Association. 
Nind, J. N. Trade Periodical Company. 
Northop, C. T. Northrop Com. Company. 
Noyes, La Verne, W. Aermotor Company. 


Osborn, C. D. C. D. Osborn Company. 

Miller, Eugene C. Osgood Company. 

Otis, Joseph E. Western Trust and Savings Bank. 

Owen, Jas. R. Morrison, Plummer & Co. 

Owen, R. W. Shoe and Leather Association. 


Page, S. S. 

Page, Cecil S. S. Page. 

Palmer, Dudley C. Percival B. Palmer Company. 

Palmer, P. B. Percival B. Palmer Company. 

Paullin, George W. 

Peck, C. M. "Strahorn." 

Pellet, Clarence S. Fleetwood & Pellet. 

Pennington, F. K. Oliver Typewriter Company. 

Pettibone, Amos P. F. Pettibone & Co. 

Phelps, R. C Shoe and Leather Association. 

Pick, Albert Albert Pick & Co. 

Pierce, F. W. Manhattan Electric S. Co. 

Pirie, J. T. Carson, Pirie, Scott & Co, 


Porter, J. M. Porter & Berg. 

Porter, Washington Majestic Building Company. 

Powers, Harry J. Powers Theater. 

Powers, F. A. Union Wire Mattress Company. 

Powers, W. P. Union Wire Mattress Company. 

Powers, O. M. Metropolitan Business College. 

Powers, W. S. Wilson Brothers. 

Pratt, J. F. Smith- Wallace Shoe Company. 

Prochnow, R. F. 

Proctor, J. L. Shoe and Leather Association. 

Pyatt, J. E. E. P. Reed & Co. 

Pinkham, J. B. Chicago Evening Post 

Raff, H. D. Shoe and Leather Association. 

Ralston, J. C. Beckley-Ralston Company. 

Raser, W. S. Swift & Co. 

Raymer, Walter J. American Tin Company. 

Reilly, Leigh Chicago Eveing Post. 

Reilly, F. O. Morris, Mann & Reilly. 

Reiss, H. D. Albert Pick & Co. 

Robertson, D. C. Miller & Hart. 

Robertson, T. E. Hoffheimer Soap Company. 

Roessler, Carl Kaiserhof Hotel. 

Rose, Edward Edward Rose & Co. 

Rosenthal, B. J. 

Roth, John C. Congress Hotel Company. 

Roth, G. A. Roth Brothers & Co. 

Roth, Charles H. Roth Brothers & Co. 

Rudhart, R. P. E. L. Mansure Company. 

Rudolph, Franklin American Can Company. 

Rubovits, Toby Toby Rubovits. 

Scheidenhelm, F. J. American T. and S. Bank. 
Schell, R. L. Shoe and Leather Association. 
Schlesinger, B. F. Carson, Pirie, Scott & Co. 
Schmidt, John A. Metropolitan T. and S. Bank. 
Schnadig, J. B. D. Eisendrath & Co. 
Schnadig, E. M. Charles Emmerich & Co. 
Schofield, John R. Butler Brothers. 
Schmering, J. Otto Young & Co. 
Schroeder, George James S. Kirk & Co. 
Schweitzer, Sam Stern, Mayer & Co. 
Scott, John W. Carson Pirie, Scott & Co. 
Scott, F. H. Carson, Pirie, Scott & Co. 
Scott. Robert L. Carson, Pirie, Scott & Co. 
Seaman, George W. Bermingham & Seaman Co. 
Seaman, Hallcck S. L, I. and Minn. Ry. 


Selz, J. Harry Selz, Schwab & Co. 
Shalek, James A. Atlas Brewing Company. 
Shaw, Frank S. Cable Company. 
Shelden, George W. G. W. Shelden & Co. 
Sherman, E. Guthman, Carpenter & T. 
Sherman, Roger W. M. White Company. 
Shine, Joseph Shoe and Leather Association. 
Shtfrtleff, W. C. Morrison, Plummer & Co. 
Sidder, A. J. A. J. Sidder Company. 
Simonds, Alvan T. Simonds Manufacturing Co. 
Simpson, Tames Marshall Field & Co., wholesale. 
Skinner, W. E. Union Stock Yards. 
Skinner, George R. Skinner Brothers. 
Skinner, E. M. Wilson Brothers. 
Slaton, George W. Charles H. Mears & Co. 
Smoal, Hubo W. John Davis Company. 
Smith, Henry T. Bradner Smith & Co. 


Thomas, E. S. Shoe and LeatherAssociation. 

Thompson, W. M. Kelley, Maus & Co. 

Thorn, Frank Marshall Field & Co. 

Tiffany, L. L. O. W. Richardson & Co. 

Teste, William H. Jenkins, Kreer & Co. 

Tomek, F. F. Johnson & Tomek Company. 

Town, D. E. Chicago Evening Post. 

Traner, F. F. Traner. 

Trowbridge, C. M. Burley & Co. 

Trout, George M. Trout Hardware Company. 

Taber, F. N. Shoe and Leather Association. 

Taft, James Taft Brothers. 

Teich, Max Kaiserhof Hotel. 

Terrell, Alfred Simmons Manufacturing Co. 

Thomas, John W. Royal Trust Company. 


Vehon, Morris Royal Tailors. 
Vernon, David Commercial National Bank. 
Vierbuchen, William C. Chicago Hotel Company. 
Vopicka, Charles J. Atlas Brewing Company. 
Vorce, H. T. Chicago Evening Post. 
Vroman, Charles E. Murgrave, Vroman & Lee. 
Vawter, William Baker- Vawter Company. 


Walker, S. L. Gage Brothers. 

Wagner, George Gage Brothers. 

Watson, T. A. Watson-Plummer Shoe Company. 

Watson, George E. G. E. Watson Company. 


- Webster, D. F. A. L. Webster. 
Webster, G. A. 
Webster, A. L. 

Webster, T. K. Webster Manufacturing Co. 
Weil, L. 

Weinberg, A. Beifeld, Hirsch & Kline. 
.Wentz, H. B. Beacon Falls Rubber Shoe Co. 
Wentz, A. D. Beacon Falls Rubber Shoe Co. 
Wetmore, F. O. First National Bank. 
Whiffen, Wilson T. Peninsular Stove Company. 
Whitaker, J. O. Whitaker Manufacturing Co. 
White, James. 

White, R. S. American Steel and Wire Co. 
Wickwire, E. L. Hirsh, Wickwire & Co. 
Wight, A. M. Rathbone, Hair & Rigdway Co. 
Wilbur, L. J. Joseph Shine. 
Williams, George J. 
Wilson, L. I. Wilson Brothers. 
Wood, John H. Carson, Pirie, Scott & Co. 
Woodcock, L. T. Marshall Field & Co., retail. 
Woodcock, Judge J. M. 
Watt, James R. John G. Miller. 
Wilbur, S. B. Trout Hardware Company. 
White, Edward Great Central Market Magazine. 
White, P. T. Otto Young & Co. 
Wilder, E. P. Wilder & Co. 
Wakeman, F. S. Cleveland Faucet Co. 
Webb, George D. Conkling, Price & Webb. 
Young, Edward C. Belding Brothers & Co. 
Weaver, C. H. C. H. Weaver & Co. 
Winslow , W. H Winslow Brothers Company. 
Wygant, A. United States Express Company. 
Wiley, Fred L. Becker, Mayer & Co. 
Wheeler, H. A. Credit Gearing-House. 
Waldeck, H. Continental National Bank Co. 
Winheim, O. C Burley & Co. 
Wilk, F. L. Union Trust Company. 
Warren, Frank Hibbard, Spencer, Bartlett & Co. 
Whipple, C. B. Hibbard, Spencer, Bartlett & Co. 
Whitlock, S. J. Belding Brothers & Co. 
Warner, Ezra J. Sprague, Warner & Co. 
Walliser, H. F. E. L. Mansure Company. 
Wiehe, C. F. Edward Hines Lumber Company. 

Courtesy of Record Herald. 

President Theodore Roosevelt says: "Study high ideals; fol- 
low them." That these words stripped of all sententious phrases and 
brought to bare facts are bearing fruit here is evidenced in many 
ways. As a representative sample of the enterprises based upon 
high ideals Chicago society has become interested in the uplifting 






of the stage. One of the most magnificent theaters in this world 
will be the result a dream of art, a virtual paradise, constructed 
for absolute safety. Upon the stage none but the very best com- 
panies will be allowed to arch an instep or droop an eye-lid. Any 
company who is favored with a call to this stage will forever wear 
the badge of ability and respectability. 

The idea is a good one. Not only will it be a pleasure and a 
benefit to the better class of playgoers, but it will help to elevate 
the entire theatrical world. It will be an incentive for the players 
to elevate themselves and their plays to the high standard desired 
by the broad-minded and generous public who admire refinement 
as well as pathos; morality as well as wit and beauty. The author 

was informed by Mrs. S K , a society lady of the northside, 

that it was rumored Mrs. George B. Carpenter, president of the 
Woman's Club, was the originator of this "new idea" plan for fol- 
lowing high ideals in uplifting the stage. It is truly a practical plan 
and will undoubtedly be a success morally, socially, and financially. 
But no matter who promotes its final success after the thought 
has been given birth, the originator deserves the credit and much 
praise. The enterprise is favorably accepted by the wealthy public- 
Many of our influential men are interested in this stu- 
pendious venture. The names of some are given below. This list 
was handed to the author's secretary and is believed to be clipped 
from the Chicago Inter-Ocean. 

Messrs, and Mesdames : 

Edward S. Adams- 
Arthur Aldis. 
J. Ogden Armour. 
Edward E. Ayer. 
F. R. Babcock. 
W. Vernon Booth. 
Orville E. Babcock. 
Alfred Baker. 
Hugh T. Birch. 
Arthur Bissell. 
Edward Blair. 
Watson Blair. 
Joseph T. Bowen- 
A. A. Carpenter, Jr. 
George A. Carpenter. 
W. J. Chalmers. 
Bruce Clark. 
J. L. Cochran- 
R. T. Crane, Jr. 
H. P. Jndson. 
Edson Keith. 
W. W- Keith. 
Garfield King. 

J. W. Kendrick. 

Bryan Lathrop. 

Dwight Lawrence. 

Robert Lovett- 

Honore Palmer. 

Joseph M. Patterson. 

Charles A. Plamondon. 

Hobart C. Chatfield-Taylor. 

Samuel Raymond. 

John S. Runnells- 

Martin Ryerson. 

H. G. Selfridge. 

A. A. Sprague. 

A. A. Sprague, II. 

John E. May. 

Wilward Adams- 
W. W. Kimball. 

Curys H. Adams. 
Daniel H. Burnham. 
Charles E. Fox. 



R. E. Janney. 
Charles M. Leland. 
Sidney C. Love. 
Frank Manley. 
Frederick McLaughlin. 
George F. Porter. 
Clive Runnells- 
Harry Rubens. 
A. H. Weber. 
J. Griswold Coleman, Jr. 
Henry Dibblee. 
A. B. Dick. 
James H. Eckels. 
Granger Farwell. 
Marshall Field- . 
John V. Farwell, Jr. 
Stanley Field. 
Carter H. Fitzhugh. 
Albert Goodrich. 
F. Herman Gade. 
Preston Gibson. 
Edward Craft Green- 
William Holabird. 
Harold A. Howard. 
Richard Howe. 
C. L. Hutchinson. 
Augustus N- Eddy. 
Hugh J- McBirney. 
J. Medill McCormick. 
Stanley McCormick. 

W. D. McClintock. 
H. M- Mclntosh. 
Franklin Mac Veagh- 
Arthur Meeker. 

A. B. Newell. 
Frederic T. Norcross. 
William R. Odell. 
Herbert S. Stone. 

H. D. Sturtevant. 

B. E. Sunny. 
Francis Taylor. 
Russell Tyson. 
George E. Vincent. 
Warren M. Salisbury. 
Willoughy Walling. 

B. M. Winston. 
Lawrence Young. 
Emmons Blaine. 
George E. Adams. 
James Deering. 
William B. Hale. 
David B. Jones. 
Joseph Leiter. 
Benjamin Marshall. 
Robert T. McGann. 
Potter Palmer, Jr. 
H. H. Porter. 
Edwin Stanley. 
Charles F. Wacker. 



Chicago's crusade for beauty has found a new phase it is 
making poets of the school children. A few years ago, when it 
was quite the fad to say unpleasant things about Chicago, to talk 
of its dirt, its noise and its general ugliness in a kind of hopeless 
way, a few of the loyal men and women of the city got together 
and decided that Chicago with its natural facilities for beauty 
should be beautiful. Municipal art leagues and committees were 
formed, the Chicago branch of the National Outdoor Art League 
added its efforts, the club women, ever responsive to these things, 
joined hands, and year by year their efforts have left their imprint- 

The accumulations of many years could not be put aside in a 
few months, but they have worked slowly and surely, and this year, 
when Arbor day arrived, it found not only the elders but the school 
children eagerly awaiting an opportunity 'to add their share toward 
the general beautifying of the city. This enlistment of the interest 
of the 1 children the beginning at the bottom of things with a view 
to future Chicago and its citizens is due to the efforts of the club 
women who have worked for some years through the medium of 
their art committees in bringing new and natural thoughts of 
beauty of surroundings into the school life to the teachers who 
have given unceasing efforts to aid the good work, and to the Out- 
door Art League, with its offspring, the Ce.res Circle, formed by 
Miss Jennie Maxwell and other West Side daughters of wealth 
and leisure a few years ago. 


Of all these forces the Circle, the last and youngest, is most 
local and interesting because it was a pioneer in the movement for 
securing the active interest of the school children. The young 
women of the Circle started with the schools of the West Side. 
They secured a number of printed pledges, the signer promising to 
aid in the work of the city beautiful by keeping loose papers and 
refuse from the streets as far as individual effort could avail. The 
schools were visited, the idea was explained to the children, they 
responded with enthusiasm, and boys and girls alike set about to 
help in the crusade. The success of the undertaking in the West 
Side schools encouraged the young women to spread their efforts 
to the other schools of the city, and to-day a majority of the school 
children are enlisted in the city beautiful army. The climax of the 
year comes on Arbor day, with Decoration day a close second, and 
the efforts of these school children at the recent Arbor day plant- 
ing should be of great interest to every loyal Chicagoan. 

Through the efforts' of the Chicago branch of the Outdoor Art 
League, of which Mrs. William Frederick Grower, well known 
in club circles, is president, an order went forth from the board of 


education to the principals of the public schools that Bird and Arbor 
day should be observed in every one of the 300 schools of the city. 
Arbor day chanced to fall on Good Friday, and for this reason 
the celebrations were scattered through a great portion of a week. 


One of the first to respond was the Forrestville School at 
Forty-fifth street and St. Lawrence avenue. This is one of the 
model schools of the city, and both teachers and pupils find great 
pride in keeping it so. The walls are hung with many reproduc- 
tions of the masterpieces and several originals, including a' painting 
by John Johanssen, a recent purchase of the children themselves. 
The principal, Miss Holbrook, and her corps of teachers, are among 
the most enthusiastic of the city beautiful workers and last year 
they made a beginning by beautifying the only planting space avail- 
able the girls' recreation ground. The Outdoor Art League was 
called upon for assistance and did the first planting in April of last 
year, the children furnishing the Arbor day literary programme. 

This year the teachers and children furnished their own trees, 
vines and programme, without assistance. The programme was 
unique. A general idea of the day's meaning was given the chil- 
dren of the advanced grades, with the request that each should 
write a wish or an essay or a bit of poetry or prayer concerning 
the observances of the day. The first planting was done in the 
morning by the tiny folk from the kindergarten, who planted a 
mountain ash and a bunch of lilies of the valley, singing an recit- 
ing their little verses as the things were put in the ground. During 
the afternoon these little ones appeared in pairs, each pair bearing 
a small tub of water with which they solemly watered their trees 
and flowers. Then they arranged themselves on the stone coping 
to watch the rest of the programme. 


In the afternoon 1,300 children marched from the front entrance 
to the girls' playground, carrying flags and school banners and 
handfuls of flowers, each one taking some part in the exercises. 
When the planting time came the programme included the burying 
of a bottle at the foot of the tree, containing the names of the 
little planters and their wishes for the life of the tree. Four of 
the rooms clubbed together and purchased a beautiful specimen 
of the hawthorne tree. 

The wishes, original with the children, and the bits of verse 
and composition show what Chicago may expect from its future 
citizens. Little Miss Florence R. Myers wrote: 


May all the people happy be, 
Who helped to plant this hawthorne tree. 
I wish that Forrestville may grow in beauty, 
As this tree doth grow in size. 


Edna Kantrowitz of the same room wrote a lilting bit of verse 
for her wish, entitling it "The Charm" : 


While this programme was being carried out at the school the 
Clean City Club, organized by Mrs. Harriet Taylor Treadwell from 
the pulpils of the eighth grade, of which she is teacher, were busy 
on the vacant lot at Forty-fifth street and Cottage Grove avenue. 
The club members are pledged to assist in the improvement of 
conditions in' the neighborhood, and, like the Ceres Circle children, 
pick up waste paper, from disfiguring. other people's property as 
well as their own, and keep off of lawns. 

Compositions were written with the city beautiful as the topic, 
and some of these are worth publishing for the benefit of the elders. 
Henrietta Sayre of room 1, grade S, writes : 

The cry of the popular universe is now the welcome of the 
beautiful and the quest of the sanitary. We with "the courage 
that gains and the prudence that keeps what men strive for" are 
the ones who, taking up the cry, must press onward to victory. 
The little things and daily unnoticed acts of the people are what 
make our streets dirty and the atmosphere one mixed. with flying 
particles of caramel wrappers and old newspapers. Garbage, too, 
is a never-ending source of annoyance; not through its own fault, 
perhaps, but through the fault of those who afterward grumble 
over the high taxes and a superfluity of "cleaning-up societies." 
Step by step, though, through the effort of each man and woman, 
we are becoming the "city beautiful" and the "city clean" of the 
western world, and if some obstinate creatures persist in thwarting 
our enterprise we must not become discouraged 1 , for Rome was 
not built in a day- 
Comes an echo on the breeze, 

Whispering through the dusty trees, 

And its urgent tones are these : 

"Burn up papers, plant new trees, 

Put your garbage in your cans; 

Force expectoration bans ! 

Keep the billboard out of sight : 

Shun the wrong and do the right, 

So our great commercial tree 

Standing guard^ the inland sea. 

May rejoice with you and me, 

That we've brought it up to be 
The City Beautiful !" 


Two more examples' of the result of the "city beautiful" teach- 
ings are found in the "prayer" by Lucile Kline, which is a little 
gem, and Frances Prendergast's "Plant We a Tree" . Journal. 



The President tips his hat to Chicago and says lofty ideals are 
the proper thing. 

Names of some of the loyal citizens who entertained the Presi- 
dent. In thanking him for the tribute to our beautiful city they 
voiced the sentiments of a multitude of wage earners and others. 

Charles H. Wacker. 

Gov. Charles Deneen. 

C F. Gunther. 

A. L. Baker. 

A. J. Earling. 

E, B. Butler. 

Col. Walter T. Duggan. 

H. G. Selfridge. 

Dr. Alexander Lambert. 

Senator A. J. Hopkins. 

L. A. Ferguson. 

H. A. Strohmeyer. 

Robert J. Thorne. 

A. Cowles. 

Slason Thompson- 

E. F. Carny. 

R. R. McCormick. 

C. H. Conover. 

Murray F. Tuley. 

Frank B. Noyes. 

Victor F. Lawson. 

Charles G. Dawes. 

A. A. Sprague II. 

Judge Kohlsaat. 

Tames B. Forgan. 

J. J. Mitchell. 

Frank H. Jones. 

Byron L. Smith. 

J. L. McGrew. 

M. C. Latta. 

David R. Forgan. 

R. W- Patterson. 

Graeme Stewart. 

Frank O. Lowden. 

E. A. Hamill. 
Franklin MacVeagh. 
J. H. Eckels. 
Cyrus McCormick. 
H. H. Kohlsaat. 

F. H. Tyree. 

E. A- Potter. 

J. G. Thompson. 

F. W. Gerould. 

I. G. Elliott. 
A. D. Wheeler. 
J. E. Monk. 
T. W. Robinson. 
Darius Miller. 
R. H. Donnelley. 
W. C. Thorne. 
Vernon Booth. 
H. Gilette. 
C. L. Bartlett. 
J. V. Farwell, Jr. 
William Loeb. 
Edward Bancroft- 
Marshall Field. 
Marvin Huehitt- 
Walter H. Wilson. 
A. A. McCormick. 
J. M. Dickinson. 
A. G. Blair. 
Judge Sol H. Bethea. 
W. L. Brown. 
T. E. Donnelley. 
H. P. Judson. 
Arthur T. Aldis- 
C. H. FitzHugh. 
Mr. Sutton. 
John Maynard Harlan. 
J. M. McCormick. 
R. Kin?. 

C. M. Dawes. 
W. S. Warren. 
Delavan Smith. 

H. N. Higinbotham. 

D. B. Jones. 
Dr. G. Isham. 
F. C. Farwell. 

A. M. Day. 

J. G. Rogers. 
H. H. Martin. 

B. E. Sunny. 
T. E. Mitten. 
Fred. W. Upham. 
J. Blabon. 



H. Lloyd. 
Fred A. Bangs. 
Rush C. Butler. 
Arthur B. Cody. 
Albert E. Crowley. 

A. D. Curtis. 

J. E. Defebaugh. 
George W. Dixon. 
William H. Eagan. 
William G. Edens. 
Robert S. lies. 
Thomas D. Knight. 
E. C. Lindley. 
Chauncev W. Martyn. 
Georee W. Miller- 
Frank I. Moulton. 
Edwin A. Munger. 
Robert McMurdy. 
M. W. Pinckney. 
James T. Plumsted- 
William J. Pringle. 
Henry W. Price. 
Emil C. Wetten. 
R. T. Thompson. 
George Merryweather. 
Marquis Eaton. 
Emil C. Wetten. 
H. T. McBirney. 
William Kent. 
J. O. Hinckley. 

B. A. Eckhart. 
W. O. Coleman. 
J. F. Harris. 
Harold F. McCormick. 
G. A. Carpenter. 

B. Carpenter. 
Arthur Dixon. 
Ralph C. Otis. 
Joseph E. Otis. 
Sol A. Smith. 
W. B. Smith. 
George A. Mason. 
Harry L. Prescott. 
Henry R. Rathbone- 
John T. Richards. 
James Jay Sheridan. 
Andrew R. Sheriff. 
Mors O. Slocum. 

Frederick A. Smith. 
Fred. W. Upham. 
Roy O, West. 
Lloyd Bowen. 
W. E. Clow. 
H. J. McFarland. 
G. B. Swift. 
Clayton Mark. 
Col. E. G. Halle. 

E. C. Brainerd. 
Laverne W. Noyes. 
J. T. Harahan. 

W. A. Angell. 
R. W. Cox. 
J. C. Shaffer. 
Roy O. West. 
W. C. Boyden. 
Samuel Instill. 
W. G. Beale. 
Harry Rubens. 
Peter Schuttler. 
R. Ortmann. 

F. C. Bartlett. 
J. C. Hutchins. 
W. J. Pringle. 
Chauncey Keep- 
H. R. McCullough. 
W. A. Fuller. 
Enos M. Barton. 

J. C. Patterson. 
A. C. Anson. 
F. K. Copeland. 
Charles H. Thome. 
E. C. Wetten. 
Thomas Carey. 
Charles Werno. 
J. W. Eckhart. 
E. G. Foreman. 
Julius Rosenwald. 
Charles U- Gordon. 
Theodore K. Long. 
Gale Blocki 
Graeme Stewart. 
Judge F. Q. Ball. 
Judge A. N. Waterman. 
Judge O. H. Horton. 
Judge Elbridge Hanecy. 
Judge Jesse Holdom. 



Dr. J. B. McFatrich. 
Dr. C. L. Barnes. 
W. F. Knoch. 
Arnott Stubblefield. 
Walter Fieldhouse. 
Harry V. Wood. 
Linn H. Young. 
James J. Healy. 
Oliver Sollitt. 
E. D. Brothers. 
W. S. Kies. 
W. T. ApMadoc. 
D. L. Ettelson. 
Warwick A. Shaw. 
.William L. Rohrer. 

Arthur Dixon. 
L. K. Torbet. 
B. W. Snow- 
Isaac M. Hamilton. 
George Edmund Foss. 
Martin B. Madden. 
W. W. Wilson. 
James R. Mann. 
LeRoy T. Steward. 
F. E. Coyne. 
Clare E- More. 
Henry E. Weaver. 
George E. Shipman. 
J. M. McConahey. 


Notice to Readers 

If interested in prize contest look for 
the hidden words and sentences. 

See Pages 37, 113, 345 

The prizes will be awarded promptly 
upon winners sending letter or pages con- 
taining his or her correct locations marked 

Names of the prize winners will be 
given in Mr. Stevens' next book, "City 
Beautiful," sequel to "Wicked City." 



Continued From Page 36 
"As the chimes told the hour." 

CHAPTER IV Continued. 


now?" The snaky, shifty eyes of the other, which had been weakly 
traveling in every direction but that of the speaker, were brought 
to bear fully upon the eyes opposite. They showed interest, but 
not recognition. "No, but dem lamps of yourn seems kinder like 
I'd seed em afore, but I don't twig yer." The other sat back in his 
chair with a quiet smile of satisfaction on his Spanish countenance, 
fingering his glass thoughtfully, while his companion watched' him 
with a puzzled look on his cunning, crafty features. "Well, it is best 
so. I was here with a friend of yours once, and I thought you might 
remember me, but as you don't it doesn't matter. I am from your 
friend 'Butch.' " His listener stirred uneasily. "Ye know me, then?" 
"Yes, I know you and the criminal record you left behind you in 
the States, from the guy you croaked on the 'levee' in Chicago, 
to the 'clock job' you done here." As he finished his companion 
was pale to the lips. "Who, who " "Who told me this?" you would 
say. "Why my friend, " As he spoke he leaned over the table and 
whispered a name in his trembling listener's ears. As he did so, 
a relieved expression overspread his features. Rising, he extended 
his hand. "Give us yer mit, 'pal'; if he spieled to yer about me and 
de ticker, you'se are of the right sort, for he knows his man, he does. 
Yer lamps are dead ringers for hissen. I did spiel to meself onc't 
'at dere werent a guy in the world with a pair like 'em. Where is 
he? It's been about a pair o' years since I done biz for him. He is 
de right sort, and would never give a pal away. I would walk out 
and give him me joint if he wants it." "Yes, I guess you would have 
to if he said so," replied number "49." "He don't want your joint, but 
he does want what coin you got in the till, and all the long green stuft 
you got in your leather, so dig up. Come, hurry about it." "Yes, 
but where is he? You ain't tipped his cover yet." "No, nor am I 
going to, either. He is near by, and if you don't want to stake 
him to the coin you got, I will see that he takes you at your word 
of a few moments ago, and make you stake him to the whole thing, 
'booze, grafters' and all so dig up." "Well, I ain't got much wid 
me, but he is welcome to wot 1 got." As he spoke he drew a long 
leather book from his inside vest pocket, and extracted a ten and five 
pound note. Handing these over, he then made for the outer room, 
stopping behind the bar he touched the "no sale" button on a heavy 
register, and securing the contents returned to the room they had 
left. Counting this out on the table he shoved it towards number 
"49" with a look and action as much as to say, "Well, you see I am 
a good fellow, anyway. Let's see fifteen pounds, and this is four 
pounds lacking a shilling about nineteen pounds." "It is not enough 

SDU will have to frisk that 'leather' again." "Wot yer given us? 
idn't you see me give yer all the coin in de joint? Wot er youst 
looking for, anyway?" "Well I am looking for some more of that 
green stuff you have planted in that leather." With a long face and 
sullen air he brought the book to light and handed it to number 
"49," who, inserting his fingers in the different compartments, found 
one 50-pound note and two twenty dollar bills in American money. 
"Ah, this is the real thing, as fine as split silk and twice as good. 


I thought you was holding out on me. You ain't under cover 
with 'any more, are you?" "No, and that coin dere ain't mine either. 
But long as it reaches me friend, and 'e gets de good of it I ain't a 
kickin; but it's on the dead, 'pal,' that last coin was left me by a 
'flash cove' wot I know." "Well, just tell him to take it out in 
'booze.' for he will never get another flash at this." As he spoke he 
withheld the money and passed the ,book back to its owner. "I will 
stake you to that, and when you get it full again I will come around 
and see you : meantime, ydur friend says that you should not by any 
means lose the clock, so good~-by, I am off." "Well, I see you are 
dead next to me friend's 'biz,' so we'll drink 'is health. Here is your 
glass." Taking the proffered glass in his hand number "49" looked at 
it thoughtfully for a moment and replaced it upon the table saying, 
"No, 'pal,' I will not take any chances on you by the way, that 
makes me think. Trot out there and bring me a small portion of the 
knock-out drops you carry, your friend might need them." "Cer- 
tainly 'pal,' I will cut anything in two wit 'im I've got eyen my 
interest in heaven." "Well, your interest and his, too, in that 
region wovld not be very great, so dodge along there and get what 
I want; I must blow out of here at once." "Wot's yer hurry?" 
"Well, your friend may get tired waiting for me. As he spoke 
that satirical smile was to be seen a moment only, for when 
"Butch" returned with the sleeping potion which they termed 
"knock-out drops," his face was as unreadable and impassive as 
ever. He was a clever actor and not once did the keeper suspect that 
his mysteriou^ customer was the friend spoken of. "Thanks; now 
then if you will get behind the bar and look your prettiest, I will 
loosen up a little and buy a drink for the house." Passing into the 
outer room the same motley crowd of poor humanity was to be 
seen immorality and weakness on most every face, unless it was a 
"live" one, as they termed a greenhorn who was r^ady to be jollied 
into spending his money for drinks and other favors. "Happy Sal" 
had one of this latter class in tow, and was in her element, a cigar- 
ette between her teeth and the rest of the pack on the table 
alongside a glass of 'alf and 'alf, which she occasionally sipped,, 
removing the cigarette to do so, then blowing through her nostrils 
the smoke she inhaled,_ adding nail after nail to the coffin that was 
soon to hold her dissipated remains. Throwing a handful of 
coins on the bar, he invited them to drink. There was a rush. 
"Happy Sal" in the lead, pulling her companion along with her, 
fearful she might lose him, probably without the chance of replac- 
ing him with one of his like upon such a rainy night. Watching this 
sickening _sight of greediness for a moment, he threw another hand- 
ful of coins over the bar and made his way out. As he trudged 
along on his way back to the strand he muttered "Well, if he did 
not recognize me no one would ; the test satisfies me. I will have to go 
back ?.nd get that clock_if he has not blowed it before this. T wonder 
how the Governor is enjoying the narrative of my life and the crimes. 
Crimes? Why, I never committed any, unless it was a crime to 
get 'Butch' to swipe that mysterious clock from Gordon's lawyers, 


every person, whether he be a plebian or prince, has a right to his 
own opinion. Maybe others would call it a crime to kill the shark 
that ruined me, but I don't. I would do it over again under the 
same circumstances, and as for hitting that poor Jehu a rap over 
the head, I hated to do it, but it was a case where I had no 
choice and, by the way, I must make another call and blow these 
togs. Dorris shall never know of my imprisonment until the clock 
ticks off ihe mystery it holds, and every chance of winning her 
love has flown. Then, and only then, would I welcome crime as a 
refuge to drown my sorrows and eke 'out my revenge on .the critical 
world." Thus excusing his faults to himself, and mentally figuring 
on the fickle future and the possibilities it held for him, he hurried 
along, still retaining that artificial stoop of his generally upright 
and military figure, his disguise was good, but would they recognize 
the storm clothes he wore as belonging to the cabman? No, he had 
calculated on that as he walked down the strand where he had passed 
hundreds similar to the one he wore. Feeling safe from recognition, 
he slackened his pace and cast his eye about for a cafe. While 
enjoying a hasty lunch, he overheard a conversation between a man 
sitting at the counter on one of the high stools and another that had 
just entered. "Hoi, Baker, 'ow's tricks. Well, oie caught a couple 
of rainy weather floats at a good fare. 'Aye youse 'card the news? 
No? Wot's off? Wots off you soi? Well, it's prisoner number 
"49" wots off, and the governor is clear off 'is 'ead. Fatty just took 
'im over to Scotland Yards, and 'e 'ad a roll of paper wot 'e called a 
confession, telling about it. Oh, 'es away off 'is 'ead, the Governor 
is." Paying his score and leaving them to pick this bit of news to 
pieces, he quietly dropped into the street and pursued his way with 
that same cynical smile playing around his lips. The Governor is 
off 'is 'ead ,is he I thought he would be when he read that star 
effort of mine. I have tried my hand at most everything, but 
never have I tested my ability in a literary way. Sometime I will 
try my metal. I want a taste of everything this life offers. " 
wanted a taste of prison life well, I got it more than a taste, I 
am thinking; almost a mouthful. No more treadmills or cranks 
for me." Still musing, he found himself at the entrance to the under- 
ground ; here he met two "Scotland Yard men" coming up. As he 
passed them he caught the words, "'Tis a ten to one shot 'e don't 
get hout of London." "Talking about me I guess. Well, I will give 
them better odds the other way a hundred to one that I do." Reach- 
ing his destination he made his way to the street and discovered that 
the rain had almost ceased. Glancing at the unfortunate cabby's 
watch, he found that it was 8 :15. Striking off at a brisk walk under 
the dripping trees lhat lined the footpath, he halted in front of an , 
imposing edifice, set far back and surrounded by a beautiful yard, 
full of nature's growth, assisted by artificial designs of art in the 
way of flowery pathways and fountains, which sent their sprays 
heavenward to mingle with the slowly falling raindrops. Contem- 
plating this scene a moment, he turned into the grounds, so gener- 
ously open to the wayfarer or visitor, and made his way toward the 


house and up the marble steps toward two monstrous weather 
beaten statues of the knights of old, which had stood for centuries 
guarding the massive doors. "I see by the papers that Gordon is 
away, and old Giles is probably asleep, so I will enter by my key if 
it is still in its old hiding place, and not eaten up by rust for want 
of use. Stooping and removing a small fragment of slab that formed 
the base of the statue on the right, he inserted his arm up to the 
elbow, and brought forth a rusty key. Replacing the piece of slab, 
he carefully inserted the key in the lock and entered a dim light 
burned in the magnificent hall. Listening intently he mounted the 
stairs and passed into a handsome suite of apartments. "Yes, these 
are Gordon's old rooms. Now then for the wardrobe, and we will 
see if I am in luck again. I am. He has left many of his 
clothes behind, shoes and all. Guess he thinks he has a cinch on 
coming back and taking possession this fall. Well, we will see. He 
always was a good dresser, and as we are about the same build I 
think I can get a fit." He hastily attired himself from head to foot, 
crossing to a handsome full length mirror that met the ceiling, beau- 
tifully carved in gold leaf border. He turned in all directions and 
surveyed himself critically. "I don't like that tie very well, but 
it was always his favorite color and style." Noticing an old traveling 
case he threw some extra linen in it with a few more handkerchiefs 
and ties. Slipping out into the hall and cautiously down the 
thickly carpeted stairs he was just about to let his hand fall on 
the door knob when it fell to ^his side instead ; and there was an 
expression of surprise upon his face and a whispered curse bub- 
bled from his clinched lips. 

The silence was broken by the chimes of a clock. Led by the 
sound, he crept forward and entered a beautiful library upon the 
left. True to his conjectures, he found the mysterious clock (sup- 
posed to be in the keeping of the repulsive "Butch"). As it ceased 
telling the hour, he speedily unloaded a portion of the articles from 
the large suit-case and replaced them by the clock, which bulged 
the sides somewhat and proved quite heavy as he slipped out of the 
door and down the marble steps. Butch had proved a false guardian, 
but chance had placed the clock in his possession without further 
trouble. A gleam of satisfaction lit up his face as he elatedly fol- 
lowed his habit of communing to himself. 

"Now for the new world where I can work out my destinies 
until this wonderful piece of mechanism gives up the secret the old 
gentleman's most peculiar will claims it holds. At times I almost 
doubt the existence of anything of the kind, and I hardly believe 
Gordon places any great confidence in it, for if he did, he would 
not leave it with a deaf old man as its only protector. Well, the 
time is drawing near when we shall know all. If I had anything 
to leave to my heirs, I wouldn't tie it up for three or four years in 
an old clock. ' By jove, it is getting heavy." 

Hurrying along, he reached the path under the trees in the 
highway and soon found himself nearing the business portion of the 


city. At Great Ormand street he hailed a passing two-wheeler 

for Euston Station. As he leisurely walked into the waiting room, 
it would be hard to recognize in this cool, calm, well-dressed, 
Spanish-looking gentleman, number "49," the convict for whom 
a large reward had already been posted, making a stronger incen- 
tive for the already zealous officers of the law, who were watching 
every means of exist from London. Selecting a good cigar at the 
stand he proceeded to enjoy it while watching the hurrying 
throngs collect for the outgoing train; among them were many 
detectives who scanned the face of every new arrival as they 
were dropped by a cab or appearing from out the gloom on foot. 
The poor and rich alike made for one point jostling one 
another, although twenty minutes before the train was sched- 
uled to leave. Killing the time as best he could over a 
bottle of ale and some shrimp, h_ then selected a hand- 
ful of cigars to smoke on the journey. Seeing that the old case 
and its precious contents were safely aboard, finished up with a 
stroll about the platform. More than twenty pairs of keen eyes 
belonging to the London sleuth inspected him closely, but failed 
to see anything that would warrant even the merest suspicion that 
he was other than what he seemed the quiet, polished gentleman 
of leisure, or a traveling man who represented some wealthy firm 
or wholesale dealer. Little knots of men were discussing the latest 
news and one was referring to a placard which described the escaped 
convict in every detail as the prison authorities knew them, offering 
five hundred pounds for his capture. 

Boarding the train, ha quietly perused a paper while rolling on 
to freedom. Although careless of the past, he was wide-awake 
to the future. Arriving at the steamer without mishap, he deposited 
the clock on the table of his stateroom and set it in motion after 
noting the time lost, then went below where he was soon deeply 
interested in a hand at poker, and passed the time in this way and 
divers others until New York was sighted after six days of 
churning through the green billows. He was cool and keen in 
every sense, active and on the alert as they steamed up the harbor, 
guarded by the ever diligent goddess of liberty, who cast shim- 
mers of light over sea and vessel. At the dock off Clarkson 
street, the "Umbria" unloaded her human freight, bound for 
so many different destinations : some had friends who gathered 
around and bade them welcome, hurrving them away in comfortable 
carriages to a more comfortable homes, while there were others 
unceremoniously hustled down the gangway to be swallowed up 
in the great city without the price of a night's lodging or meal 
to begin the battle of existence in a new land. Some were met 
by officers in blue who eave them a warmer weW^ie than they 
desired a welcome they had feared, but tried to avoid, a welcome 
that landed them in the tombs. Number "49" did not conternolate 
,\ reception of either kind, and was rierht in his surmise for ne 
passed down the gangway among the last that were off without 


adventure. Many New York and Chicago detectives thronged the 
warf but after a sharp glance, they paid little attention to him. 
Accepting one of the many vehicles offered, he was driven to a 
hotel on Broadway near Trinity Place. A day in New York, 
a visit to a few places of interest and he was off for a wicked city, 
the center to which every class of humanity in the world gravi- 
tates the evil and the good, the rich and the poor, the great and 
the lowly. The moment he struck the streets of Chicago, he de- 
cided that it was at least a wide-awake city. The activity and alert- 
ness shown by the commonest pedestrian convinced him of the fact. 

Locating a desirable hotel with club rooms attached, he found 
himself among a fashionable set, enjoying the games while others 
were refreshing themselves at the bar which was a handsome 
affair behind which was a dispenser of the beverages who was in 
keeping with it and the other surroundings. He ordered a glass 
of wine which was served with such rapidity, deftness and clean- 
liness that it really made the drink seem more pleasing to the 
taste. While slowly sipping this, he took in with a critical eye 
every detail of his surroundings, even to the pictures that adorned 
the walls. The dispenser apparently was very popular with the 
patrons of the place who seemed to be well bred, well to do, clever 
men of the world. Inviting the dispenser to join him in a drink, 
they were soon in conversation which led to the question of gambling, 
and Chicago's reputation for wickedness in general, a reputation that 
has reached all corners of the globe whether merited or not 

"You say there is a law against gambling here?" "Yes, there 
is a law and it is pretty well enforced too. The Inspector and 
his _ men are very vigilant, but still it is impossible to suppress it 
entirely for there are gambling houses running in this city. Do 
you indulge at all in that kind of diversion?" 

"Oh, yes, I sometimes do." 

"Well, you seem to be a stranger in Chicago, so I will put you 
nexit to a few of them and their locations, but you will find it hard 
to gain admittance for some are without protection." 

"Without protection? I hardly understand the meaning of the 
word as you have applied it. Oh, on a second thought, I believe 
I follow you. You mean that there are some favored few who 
have some influence or 'pull' as you Americans term it, with 
the police and are allowed to run wide open without fear of inter- 
ruption or arrest. Is that not it?" 

"Well, you have a plain way of putting it, but that is what 
some or in fact the majority believe it to be, but if you should do 
me the honor by asking my opinion in regard to this 'protection' 
business, they all take just excuse me a moment, here comes Mr. 

one of the proprietors and a good fellow too. - He is 

a boy that can tell you more about gambling in Chicago than I. 
can." Smoking and drinking, the talkative keeper continued the 
conversation where they left off. "We were speaking about gamb- 
ling in Chicago as you came in, Mr. and I was just remark- 


ing to this gentleman, Mr. ah ! yes, thank you, Mr. Robert Long, 

that this "protection" the gamblers are supposed to have is a myth. 
I do not believe that the police give any of them absolute protection 
from arrest while carrying on their business. Don't you think that 
they give their players to understand that they have protection from 
arrest in order to give them confidence, allay their fears and hold 
their game?" 

"Well, that is a question that is many times asked and as 
many times given up, Fred, the same as I will have to give it up this 
time. There is one thing that I do know, that the club room we 
furnish for our guests to sling the pasteboards around in, is never 
molested, and I am sure that the Inspector and his representatives 
have never handled any of our money in exchange for what you 
call "protection." I think the keeper of a house where you 
have to cater to the public as you do in the hotel business, should 
be entitled to devote a portion of his hostelry for the diversion of 
his guests. Would that not be your opinion, Mr. Long?" 

"Yes, that is my opinion exactly. I surmise then that you 
sometimes indulge in the national game under your own roof?" 

"Well, yes, I quite often take a hand, but only with the 
guests. No outsiders are allowed in the room set aside for that 
purpose. Most of my guests are speculators and Board of 
Trade men. The transients are mostly the better class of travel- 
ing men or couples visiting Chicago on their honeymoon. We 
have some very nice guests that are stopping permanently with 

us. Such as Mrs. also Senator D's widow and Prince 

and his charming American wife, and others. By the way, 

you will excuse me, I am expected to escort a lady to the opera and 
it would hardly do to be tardy. You will find Fred a sociable fellow 
and I will leave you to his tender mercies. If conversation and drinks 
rim out, get him to tell you some of his experiences in wicked 
Chicago." Warmly shaking hands, he passed rapidly out to keep 
his engagement. 

After listening to many tales of Chicago by the keeper, Robert 
made some other inquiries regarding the hotel and being well 
impressed determined to make it his future headquarters. He there- 
fore, registered and was shown his apartments. His precious 
burden, the clock that had ticked its way across the ocean was his 
first care. From the window of his sitting room he noted Chicago 
time by a large clock in the tower of a beautiful structure oppo- 
site. Soon the mysterious clock from London was striking the 
hour on a Cathedral chime which was modulated to such a 
fine _ degree as to sound like the sweet notes of far away music. 
As it ceased and the last chime vibrated on the air and gradually 
died away, a clear toned bell tolled the day of the month, 
while the minatnre fieaires of a bridal party passed from a min- 
ature castle on the rigrht aloner a little rustic pathway and entered 
a miniature representation of St. Paul's Cathedral? As the last 
figure disappeared, soothing strains of music could be heard last- 
ing fully a minute. So it ticked on all unconscious of the great 


part it was to play in many lives. After a good rest which 
refreshed body and mind, Robert Long paid his respects to his 
acquaintances of the evening, after which he hunted out Chicago's 
most stylish tailoring establishment. Here he left his order and 
the following day found him attired with clothes that fit his well 
proportioned figure to perfection. During the intervening time 
he replenished his scanty wardrobe with other necessary arti- 
cles of wear, and stepped out into the thoroughfare, once more in 
appearance similar to his former self before his prison experience, 
but with a heart more steeled and hardened toward the finer feel- 
ings which prevailed in his younger days. As is was, he passed 
for what he seemed to be, a well dressed, well bred gentleman 
of means, unassuming and reticent, cool and collected. But this 
exterior hid a smouldering volcano of fire and passion which if 
led to the surface by the chance hand of fate, would scorch and 
wither unblemished lives as ruthlessly as a prairie conflagration 
licks up tender grass along its pathway. 

"Now I guess my 'front' is good enough and I will look up 
Dorris bless her image. She is the only thing* on this earth 
worth a thought. I wonder if she has changed any? I know 
I have. I wonder if she will notice it? It don't seem possible 
that I am the same being that I was when I first knew her. Why 
I would not even have taken the name of the Lord in vain. But now, 
there does not seem to be any thought in my mind that there is 
a God, except when I think of her sweet face, and as it is a face 
of a goddess, it naturally makes me think of the possibility of a 
God somewhere or somehow in connection with her. If I win 
her love I might accept God. It is possible that she is married 
after all, but if so, it could be onlv lately for the directory gives 
their names as 'Mrs. Waite and Miss Waite, Sunnyside.' I will 
quickly settle all doubts." 

He was soon speeding toward his destination as stated in 
Chapter I. No. "49" purchases a Chicago paper and while scan- 
ning its columns is somewhat surprised to discover the following 
notice among the personals : 

"Any person knowing the present address of Robert E. Long, 

who left his home, 2112 St., London, England, about three years 

ago to visit Paris and last heard of there, will receive $2,000 re- 
ward. Communicate with Gordon Long, Palmer House, Chicago, 




"Two thousand dollars, eh? Well I will just postpone this 
visit and take that two thousand dollars myself. It's a bright 
idea, I will do it." Leaving the train at the next stop, he returned 
to the city's center. In a second hand store on the "levee" he 
purchased an old suit of clothes and returned to the hotel. Affect- 
ing a slight stoop and halting step, he presented himself before 
one of the porters of the Palmer House and notified him in slum 
dialect to tell Mr. Long "dat dere is a guy out in. front wot wants 
to see 'im." Pressing back against the building in the shadows 
cast by the great pillars, he watched and waited for the appearance 
of his brother, his body in repose, but his mind working and active, 
wide-awake to possibilities and the chances he was taking of being 
recognized. Soon a tall, well-built man appeared and advanced 
with a quick, rapid step, looking in every direction with eyes eager 
and piercing in a way similar to Robert's own. 

Discerning the dark figure in the shadow he inquired : "Did 
you wish to speak with me, my man?" His voice was eager but 
kind and musical. 

"Be yuse de gent wot advertised in de paper to-day?" 

"Yes, I am the party; can you give me the information I wish?" 

"Well, dat wos wot I came 'ere to do if yuse was on de square 
and means wot you say in de paper. I wants de money, cash down, 
or I don't turn a wheel, and a rig is wot we need." 

"Very well, you shall have it. Engage a hack while I step into 
the hotel to replenish my purse for I seldom carry that amount 
with me." 

He soon reappeared with a light spring overcoat buttoned over 
the $2,000 added to the usual amount carried. A close inspection 
would also show that it was buttoned over something else, a light 
pocket revolver. He seemed to be no fool, this pleasant-faced man, 
for he had prepared himself for emergencies. Stepping into the 
hack, they were bowled along, but not towards Robert's hotel. For 
while Gordon was absent, Robert had ample time to press an extra 
fare into the cabman's hand with instructions to drive around the 
city in any direction he _ wished until just after the tower clock 
struck the hour, then drive to the hotel. Following out these in- 
structions, the vehicle at last drew up in the shadow near their 
destination. Gordon stepped out followed by Robert who pulled the 
slouch hat he wore more firmly, over his face, hiding his eyes as 
they struck the glare of light. They soon found themselves before 


the door of Robert's apartments. Unlocking this, Robert tiptoed 
lightly into a dim room with pretended caution, as though in fear 
of disturbing a sleeper. He had acted his part well, his brother not 
once suspected the ruse. 

"Now den, boss, jes give me de money an I will send Robert 
Long to yuse. See?" 

"Yes, I see. Here is your money as I agreed. Now send him 
out, but if you play me false, I " 

"Sh , not so loud," his guide cautioned with a peculiar look 
in his more peculiar eyes. "I knows me business, I does." 

Tiptoeing to an inner door he cautiously opened it and passed 
from view. Gordon made for the door by which he had entered 
and glanced along the hall to see if there was a door opening from 
the room his contductor entered. Finding this to be the case, he 
kept his eye on it and listened for further developments. Hearing 
voices, one of which seemed to be in anger at being aroused, he 
seemed more assured, but still kept a close watch. 

Stilling the mysterious clock for fear it would give warning 
of its presence, Robert went through the sham performance of 
awakening somebody, changing his voice to suit. Meantime he 
removed every vestige of the swarthy, dark appearance of his face 
and hands. Inspecting his altered appearance in the mirror and 
being satisfied that Gordon could not recognize him as the compan- 
ion of his long ride, he opened the door with head half turned 
giving some order to the imaginary valet or porter, then bringing 
his piercing eyes to bear on his visitor, he started back with an 
exclamation of well-feigned surprise. What followed has been 
given the reader in opening chapter, so we will pass on to the end 
of this strange meeting and follow Gordon as he departs with 
bowed head and puzzled brain. 

* * * * * * * 

Gordon passed out and down the marble steps and struck the 
street along which he hurried with downcast head and blurred eyes, 
sick at heart, for this noble man had loved his brother and playmate 
from boyhood's earliest remembrances with a deep affection, having 
a manly respect for his superior g9odness. 

"Yes, there is a change in him, and a great one, too ; but I 
failed to notice it at first. Oh, God, that this should be! I see it 
all now, and he loves Dorris, sweet Dorris. But I am afraid it is a 
passion and not a love for her, not the pure holy love I would offer 
her. Ah, if it was only a real love, my brother, instead of a pas- 
sion that would burn itself out in time and leave her only the shell 
that holds it, blackened and charred and useless, I would say yes, 
I believe I would leave the field clear for you ; but no, oh no, what 
am I thinking of? I could not, I never could give up the hope of 
winning her, not even for him. I would willingly give all I pos- 
sess, or all my chances of future possessions, to bring back my 
brother to me, for I still love him as a brother should, though he 
has no love or friendship in his heart for me. Anyhow, I am sure 
he does not love her as I do or he would not have spent the last 


two years on Spanish lands when she was all this time in America. 
No, his love for her can not be what mine is. I feel justified be- 
fore God in pleading my love at her feet, if the clock proves that I 
have a right to lay my love at the feet of any pure girl. Well, this 
horrible suspense will soon be over. It was fortunate that I found 
Robert just at this time, time for the ceremonies to be gone through 
with on the first of May in the presence of our lawyer who still 
holds the will and key. It is a strange will and certainly most 
unjust, for it leaves the illegitimate son a pauper, and and a jest 
for the idle scandal mongers, with which this great world Is so 
infested. It leaves the unfortunate one only a blackened name to 
begin the world with. Our father seemed to love us both during 
his life, why was he so unjust to the innocent at his death? I know 
he died of remorse for his early sin. If he had left the property 
and income to the son of his sinful lust, it would be more like jus- 
tice. Well, it is a puzzle that few could figure out. If the prop- 
erty falls to me, I will share it with Robert, but, ah, I forget. It 
is so situated he could not leave it to any illegitimate son, neither 
can we share it for it is entailed." Thus ending his musings, he 
straightened his shoulders and quickened his pace with the air of a 
man prepared to look the world in the face, and unflinchingly meet 
the fate it held in store for him. The walk and cool air cleared 
his brain. He began to glance around and wondered why he had 
not thought of taking a cab. As if in answer to his thoughts, a 
voice from the street hailed him. "Ain't you going to ride back, 
Mister?" Turning, he discovered a hack, which had been fol- 

"Why, yes, certainly, I had forgotten the hack as well as your 
fee, but drive me to my hotel and you shall have double your fee 
for my absent-mindedness." Arriving there, he alighted. While 
paying the hackman, Gordon looked sharply at him. "Now, look 
here, my clever friend, if you will tell me why it only took about 

one-third the time to come from the L , that it did to drive to it, 

I will double that fee you have in your hand. Now, the truth, man, 
why is it, can you explain it and earn this?" (Tossing in the air 
three silver dollars, one after the other as he spoke.) 

"Well, I don't know as there is any harm in telling you." The 
hackman's eyes glistened greedily as the silver pieces fell one on the 
other, giving out a merry jingle which suggested many extras for 
the little ones at home. "You see it was jes' this way: While you 
wus inside, the gent with the wicked eyes told me as I wus to drive 
around the city till the tower clock struck the hour, then I wus to 
drive straight to his quarters and he would give me two dollars 
extra. He gave it to me and I done as he told me to. See?" 

"Yes, I see ; but did you see this man come out while you were 

"No, he did not come out as I see." 

A moment later Gordon was sitting in his quarters, his brows 
knit in deep thought, but the silver pieces were keeping up their 
merry jingle in company with the rest of a good evening's work in 


the Jehu's pocket, while a contented smile played over his weather- 
beaten countenance. The poor hackman was the happiest of the 
three main actors of this evening's tragedy-comedy play in the city 
of wickedness. 


The next day dawned fine and clear and there was the smell of 
spring in the air as Robert stepped off the accommodation at Sun- 
nyside and struck into the path that led to the beautiful river. Fol- 
lowing this for some distance along its banks, he came in sight of 
a most picturesque scene of nature and habitation. The smoke was 
lazily curling up from the chimney of a small, but well preserved, 
snug looking cottage with Gothic roof and Venetian blinds, around 
which grew a great profusion of trailing ivy. The cottage itself 
seemed a portion of the landscape which was beautiful in the ex- 
treme. The surroundings were in keeping with the house which 
stood amid this wooded scenery some distance from the banks of the 
stream, not so far but the rippling music made by the water forcing 
its way over the rocky bed could be heard. An arbor of wild grape 
vines lead from the rear to a little summer house by the river, built 
of rustic limbs gleaned from the woods. A swing of heavy ropes 
was idly swaying between two large trees which were like the rest 
of high nature, just budding out to keep in form with the green 
grass at their feet. A small boat was gently tugging at its tether, 
caused by the action of the passing water. There were also rustic 
seats under the great trees, dotting the shore and park which gave 
all an inviting look. This scene in all its details spoke of peace and 
happiness, for who could be otherwise than at rest and happy, 
if he were at peace with himself and the great world in a spot 
like this. But Robert noted little of this, only in a quick, rapid 
glance around, which seemed to take in every point without resting 
on any particular one. He was looking for the object of his visit 
to appear. Not being favored with a glimpse of her, he turned and 
pushed deeper into the woods. Satisfying himself that he was 
secure from observation, he rapidly went through the wonderful 
change in which he had become so apt as to cause him very little 
loss of time and patience. Examining his features critically in a 
little pocket mirror, he then made a detour and brought up on the 
opposite side of this beautiful home. The advantage he gained 
from this point was something, for he commanded the view of a 
long veranda, a perfect network of morning-glories and ivy, but no 
living thing met his eye, except a robin which was hopping daintily 
around, picking up crumbs that had evidently been scattered on the 
brick walk by some kindly hand. Another robin joined the first, 
and still another, and they shared the* crumbs, but their gentle 
benefactress did not appear. 

The time to meet Gordon was drawing near so he retraced 
his steps and leisurely sauntered along toward the station. He had 
not proceeded far, when he saw the object of his thoughts walking 


rapidly toward him. Gordon, grasping the hand of his brother as 
he bid him good day, wrung it and said : 

"I have it, Robert, I have what you need and now there is 
nothing to keep you from going with me to London. Here it is, 
partly in gold. I don't know, you may be a silver advocate, but gold 
is less bulky. The banks here, some of them any way, are putting 
out considerable gold, so here it is." 

As he spoke, he extended a leather pouch to Robert with the 
air of one who was pleased that it was in his power to perform 
this little favor. Gordon's heart was better than the gold he had 
procured so willingly for his brother to alleviate his supposed finan- 
cial difficulties. Robert unceremoniously accepted the bag, anrl 
emptying the bills and bright yellow gold pieces into his pockets, 
returned it, saying, only: 

"You had better keep this, you may need it to bring me another 
load some day." 

Gordon's face fell for just a second at the carelessness of this 
speech, then it cleared and the same good-natured bright and genial 
expression so characteristic of him returned. 

"Ah, well, you will have your little joke, Robert. Have you 
waited long? Were you in sight of their little nest out here in the 

"Yes, I was near there." 

"Is it not beautiful?" 


"Why, the little home they have, the grounds surrounding it 
and all?" 

"Oh, yes, the scenery, you mean. It is very pretty, but I did 
not see any of the inmates stirring. Possibly they are away?" 

"No, for there is her pony, 'Bonny Bess', she calls it. Yes, 
and there she is herself!" 

They were near the summer house now, and Gordon laid his 
hand on" his brother's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. 

"Isn't that a pretty scene, the perfect picture of innocence, grace 
and beauty, peace and contentment?" 

They both gazed in admiration. The blood leaped in Robert's 
veins. Indeed it was a pretty picture which these two men gazed 
upon with such admiration, now oblivious of each others presence. 
Dorris was seemingly about to go for a row and had stopped to 
give her pet (a handsome black pony) a lump of sugar, along with 
a caress for she had one arm around the pony's neck, while with her 
disengaged hand she was feeding it. A beautiful water spaniel was 
jumping about barking and tugging at her dress, as if jealous of the 
attention she was giving the larger animal. She was neatly dressed 
in a costume which fitted her beautiful form with such perfection as 
to bring out every graceful outline to correspond with the beauti- 
fud face and dark hair so tastefully and neatly arranged. Her eyes 
were of that honest brown and her pure soul looked out as she 
raised the large drooping lashes that shaded them. Her cheeks and 
lips made one think of red-ripe peaches. As she smiled down at 
the antics of her spaniel who insisted on her sharing her attention 


with him, it was seen that her teeth were perfect in arrangement 
and white as milk. The face in all its details was perfect and inter- 
estingly beautiful, not with that kind of beauty we so often see 
which is 9nly beauty in itself and nothing more; but in this 
Madonna-like face could be seen a depth unfathomed of moral 
strength of character, a face brimful of good will and good intent. 
Removing her arm from the pony's neck, she patted her other 
pet which so pleased him that he ran around in a circle, scattering 
the loose accumulations of the ground in every direction. But 
noting that she had again turned her attention to the pony, his rival 
for her favors, he stopped short and began to evince his displeasure 
by looking up at her in a kind of mournful and coaxing way, emit- 
ting sharp barks to attract her attention meanwhile. The pony 
lowered his nose near his jealous rival who growled and showed 
his dislike by wrinkling up his lip and looking sullen, for he did 
not dare to snap at her, Dorris having taught him better manners. 
But it did not prevent him from thinking a good deal and looking 
ugly ; but oh, what a change as she again turned after feeding the 
last lump of sugar to her big pet and resumed her walk towards the 
water! The spaniel showed his extreme pleasure by cutting up all 
kinds of capers, running and cavorting about ahead of her, barking 
joyfully, causing his mistress to laugh and say: "Why, Toots, I 
really believe that you were getting jealous again. Have I not 
taught you better than that? 1 am afraid I will have to give you less 
acrobatic lessons and mare moral lessons, for it is wrong to oe 




As she spoke, the words and the silver tones she uttered them 
in reached the ears of the two young men. Not till then did they 
seem to be cognizant of each others presence. Then did these two 
brothers recognize the fact that (although it may be wrong to be 
jealous as they had heard her tell Toots) they were jealous already, 
for nature had conquered Gordon. For a moment only, did he 
allow this feeling to hold him. Then uprooting it with a mighty 
effort, he laid his arm across the shoulders of Robert and looked at 
him with troubled eyes. 

"Robert, tell me, could you find it in your heart to wreck this 
peaceful home by ruining the life of N that beautiful girl? Look at 
her, look at her well. She is coming^ this way." 

Robert looked, a bitter struggle going on within him. 

"Can you wreck that sweet life by marrying her if you prove 
to be what you so much fear? Could you, Robert? Answer me, 
man. Could you do it?" 

"No, no, Gordon, a thousand times, no. I could not. 'Gordon, 
does she not make you think of our boyhood days, when we were 
both almost as perfect as she in a moral point of view? Remem- 
bering my wrecked life, could I wreck hers? No, Gordon, I love 
her too well to attempt it. The illegitimate son shall make way 
for the legitimate son." 

Gordon's eyes glistened with tears of brotherly love, as he 
pressed the hand and thanked him for the manly spirit he had 
shown. In fact, he was so exuberant that he forgot for the moment 
his surroundings, or that Dorris, the unconscious cause of this feel- 
ing, was near, and gave a shout that awoke the echos about and also 
awoke her to passing events, one of which was the comical figure 
of two men holding hands, one capering about like a mad man. 
Her first impulse was to retreat, and attempted to, when she recog- 
nized Gordon's voice catling her. She stopped and blushed rosy red 
as he rapidly advanced leading Robert by a length. 

"Don't go, Miss Waite. Excuse me for frightening you, but 
I could really shout at the top of my voice for joy. Our friend 
and brother has come back to us, and here he is." 

Stepping to one side so Robert could better be seen as he ad- 
vanced around the summer house, he noted the glad light that leaped 
to her eyes as she recognized him. Springing forward, she gave him 
a hearty welcome, but while chiding him for not writing or coming 
sooner, her generous heart prompted her to think of the dear mother 


whom she knew would be so pleased to see him again. So in order 
not to delay the pleasure for a moment, she dragged him towards 
the house with her two little hands clasped around his. Arriving 
at the vine-clad veranda, she ushered him up the steps and through 
the archway of trailing vines into the presence of her beautiful 
mother, for her mother was still beautiful in spite of age and years 
of remorffe. Her beauty was a spiritual beauty and, like her daugh- 
ter's, would fade only when the body went back to clay from whence 
it came. She arose as Dorris unceremoniously ushered her prisoner 
in crying, "Ah, mother dear, now you will have to worry no more 
or cry your dear eyes out, for here is Mr. Long, safe and sound." 

Gordon, having been left trailing along behind, had not reached 
the sitting-room, and Mrs. Waite imagined it was he her daughter 
was dragging by the hand. She seemed hardly pleased to see her 
so familiar. 

"Good afternoon, Mr. Long, won't you be seated? Dorris, 
please stop acting so unladylike and take Mr. Long's hat." 

She obediently dropped Robert's hand which was perspiring 
from her warm clasp and took his hat, placing it on her own shapely 
head in her excitement to explain, rushed up to her mother and 
embracing her cried, "Mother, darling, don't you recognize him? 
It is Mr. Robert. It is Gordon's oh, here is Gordon himself, he 
will ." She got no further, for as Gordon entered the room, Mrs. 
Waite looked from one to the other with evident excitement and 
astonishment. Taking one step toward Robert, she extended her 
hands and tried to speak some words of welcome ; but they were 
unintelligible, and lost even in the stillness that had reigned in the 
room during the brief period she was gazing at the two men, so 
like in appearance. Another step forward, she swayed and would 
have fallen if Gordon had not caught her in his strong arms. She 
had fainted. They laid her gently on a couch and applied restora- 
tives ; but without avail. Dorris was frantic with grief and begged 
Gordon to get their physician. 

"His number?" he inquired. 

"Get our family physician, Dr. \Varder." 

Assuring her it was only a fainting spell to allay her fears, he 
hurried to the station and by telephone requested the doctor to drive 
over without a moment's delay. Upon his return he found Robert 
making preparations to leave, offering as an excuse that he thought 
it would be better that she did not see him when she came to. So 
he made his departure, bidding them a hasty adieu, assuring them 
he would call the day following, left the house and struck into the 
path that led to the station. As he walked rapidly along, he glanced 
back and noted that the doctor was just driving up, his horse cov- 
ered with foam and reeking with sweat. Stopping at a convenient 
place to make his change, he boarded a train and was once more 
in the heart of the metropolis. He seemed to have no thought of 
the unconscious woman he had left behind. 

"I don't care to take any chances on that doctor. Can't imag- 
ine what she keeled over for. Guess she is bothered with heart 
trouble or something else," and so he dismissed her from his 


thoughts. The face of the other occupant of the ivy-clad cottage 
was continually before him. Even the maddening whirl of busy life 
and excitement, which always pervaded Chicago's great center, 
failed to divert his mind from the question he was considering as he 
walked along. Could he keep his promise to his brother? The 
good that had been aroused was fast being consumed by the furnace 
of evil within him, and he was ashamed of what he termed the 
weakness shown for a moment to Gordon as he gazed at the spir- 
itual, Madonna-like face of Dorris. 

"I presume she has admirers by the score, but I have only one 
rival to fear, and that is my conscientious brother. If he succeeds 
to the estates, he is to be feared; but if by any possible chance he 
should not be the heir, I have a clear field with every chance of suc- 
cess, for he is too honorable to continue his attentions. Anyway, I 
will go kind of slow till that infernal clock settles the question one 
way or the other." 

The following day found him walking briskly along the wooded 
pathway in the direction of the ivy cottage. 

"By Jove, there is Gordon coming this way. I must take no 
chances." Diving into the bushes and waiting until his brother 
passed, he made his change and resumed his way to the cottage. 
As he neared the summer house, he heard a sweet voice say, "Why, 
Mr. Gordon, I thought you were at the station by this time." So 
this was where Gordon had made his adieu, probably after a delight- 
ful tete-a-tete with his sweet hostess. "Can it be he is under- 
handed and is playing his cards to win in spite of the honor he was 
preaching to me about? Wanted to steer me off while he bagged 
the game, eh? I know he is a point ahead of me on account of hav- 
ing the opportunity that stone walls and iron bars have deprived me 
of, and I guess he means to keep that point ahead of me, too, if 
love scenes in summer houses will do it." His active mind formed 
these false conclusions instantaneously as she spoke and appeared 
at the rustic doorway, a picture of loveliness. A blush tinged her 
cheek as she comprehended her mistake. Robert assuming manli- 
ness and sincerity, politely doffed his hat and extended his hand, 
inquiring after the health of herself and mother. 

"Oh, I am well and glad to see you again, as I know mother 
also will be. She is all right to-day, and has asked about you many 
times. Won't you come in and see her?" 

Gently releasing her soft hand from his, she led the way. Mrs. 
Waite was reclining in an easy chair on the veranda. She arose 
and hurried to meet them. 

"Good morning, Mrs. Waite. I am glad to see you about 

She grasped his hand and replied, "Yes, Mr. Long, and I am 
more than pleased to see you again after all these years. You must 
excuse me for my weakness last evening. Your brother and I had 
given you up for dead and the shock of meeting you so suddenly 


was a little too much for my nerves which are not very strong in 
my advancing years." 

"Don't think of it. The apology, if there is one necessary, 
should be on my part and not yours, for so unceremoniously appear- 
ing before you as I did; but let us all be thankful that no serious 
consequence resulted from my lack of forethought." 

"Yes, and let us all thank God for bringing you among us 
again. Your brother was almost wild about your unaccountable 
absence ; and as the time drew near when the question as to who 
was heir was to be settled by that strange clock, he lost all hope of 
ever seeing you again on this earth. But he used to say he would be 
sure to see you in heaven, if he, himself, were permitted to enter 
there when this short life here on earth was given up for that more 
glorious one; for you were all that was good and noble in the 
days in which he had known you. Your brother, Mr. Long, thinks 
a great deal of you. Why do you not honor him with your confi- 
dence? He is much puzzled to know the reason why you were 
silent for so long, not even the scratch of a pen to tell that you 
were still alive. He loves you so dearly, will you not trust him and 
relieve his mind? He can not bear to think that it was through 
any act of his. He is also afraid that he has lost your love." 

Robert, thus cornered, hesitated but a moment and replied, after 
wrongly thinking to himself, "Gordon has taken a spoke out of my 

"Mrs. Waite, I am deeply honored by the interest you take in 
me. I hardly expected to be remembered by you and your charming 
daughter after such a lapse of time and following such a short 
acquaintance. Again you flatter me by evincing such an interest in 
me, and I am indeed truly sorry that I have not a more practical 
reason to advance for my absence ; but the only reason I can give 
him and my friends, who care to know is, that I took a notion to be 
inconsistent, an impulse born from some romantic desire to lose 
myself in foreign countries, which I did. The only things I can 
attribute it to, are the vagaries of man in general. As to Gordon, 
he may set his mind at rest, for I still love him, the same as I 
respect you and your daughter who he is fortunate to have as 
companions." Blandly and smoothly did he prevaricate to account 
for the years spent in a London prison. 

"Gordon tells us that you were in Spain much of the time." 

"Yes, and many other places. I lately arrived from Cuba." 

They were sitting now in the cozy parlor and Mrs. Waite had, 
in her gentle tactful way, changed the subject first started and they 
then talked of many things interesting to all. Time passed rapidly. 
The dinner hour came. Robert was pressed to remain and dine, 
but, thanking them and stating that a business matter which required 
his personal attention in the city would deprive him of this added 
pleasure, he made his departure. Mrs. Waite warmly urged him to 
come often, an invitation seconded by Dorris. 

****** * 

Number "49," ensconced in an easy chair at his comfortable 


quarters and lazily watching the wreathes of blue smoke as they as- 
clear Havana as they ascended and formed into rings, mused: "I 
must win Dorris at all hazards, no matter by what means. Life is 
slow, but with her I believe I could turn over a new leaf, or turn 
back to the leaf I was on up to my nineteenth year when old nurse 
on her dying bed informed me that she believed I was the one. I 
wonder what caused her to think so, or did she know? Well, I am 
bad enough as it is, when there is some little prospect ahead, but 
should I lose name, home and the chance of winning this pure girl ; 
I wonder how far I could venture, and how long I would last? 
Well, with the winnings I have lately made at cards in club rooms 
and Gordon's stake, I have enough to start life on with Dorris, 
sweet Dorris, and live an honest life for all time to come, legiti- 
mate son or no. Yes, I could marry and go into the mercantile busi- 
ness, a business that would meet her expectations regarding honesty 
and all that 'rot.' For her sake I would do anything. And still 
Gordon has the assurance to say it is only a passion. Ah, if he 
only knew what a passion ; a passion that will brook no interfer- 
ence, a passion that must win, for it will never burn out as he 




At this moment his musings were interrupted by a knock at the 
door. It was a bell boy who bore a silver platter upon which rested 
a card. He read the name, rapidly thinking meantime, "Gordon 
Long." "Show him up in about five minutes," he said, "I have my 
toilet to finish yet." 

The boy disappeared and Robert, quickly making his change, 
sat down by the open window. A moment or two passed, then a 
knock at the door. Without arising, he raised his voice in an invita- 
tion to enter. The knob slowly turned and Gordon dragged himself 
into the room. Sinking into a chair he groaned like a man in agony, 
and in real agony he was, too, agony of the mind, the worst kind 
of agony, an agony that rings a moan from the lips that is never 
caused by a physical pain. On Robert's rising and asking the rea- 
son of his agitation, he replied by handing him an unsealed letter 
with a London postmark. "Ah !" A light broke over him. "He 
has heard from old Giles, who has probably informed him that the 
clock is again missing. Good!" 

Stepping nearer the light he extracted the contents of the envel- 
ope. The rattle of the stiff English note-paper (which was written 
on by a cramped and nervous hand) was the only sound to be heard 
until Robert had finished the following, bearing on the clock's mys- 
terious disappearance: 

"Master, I hopes as you will forgive an old 

servant, but after over twenty years of service and faithful attend- 
ance to my duties, I have to confess that I have failed to attend to 
them as I should while you have been away ; for dear master, many 
days passed that I did not visit the room the clock was in. I say 
'was,' for it is there no more. My head is bowed low in remorse, 
master, for if I had dusted the angel top-piece and its trappings 
every day as you told me to and looked at the time once in a while, 
the angel would have stayed on earth with the treasure it guarded. 
You will say that it has been stolen, but, master, no one has been in 
this house since you left. The outside doors have been securely 
locked, so it is surely gone for good this time. God knows, master, 
I wuld give up my poor old life sooner than lose the strange clock, 
knowing the value you place upon it on account of the secret it 
holds. I informed the lawyers and they said as they would write 
you. They said as they were going to offer a reward and they said 
as you was to put some advertisement in the American papers, but 
bless you, master, I know that it would do no good, for spirits do 


not answer advertisements in the papers and bring things back for 
a money consideration. You must pray, master, pray for the return 
of it, as I pray for the return of master Robert from out the devil 
what he is in. I am, your disobedient and unfortunate servant, 


"Good! That is just the thing! Old Giles has played into my 
hands nicely. He will advertise here and then I can get in my 

Replacing the letter in its envelope, he. returned it to Gordon, 
saying aloud with cool concern, "You don't put any stock in that 
'rot/ do you?" 

"No, why certainly not, my dear brother, Giles is getting worse 
and worse every year. He has all kinds of fancies all as absurd and 
impossible as the fancy that you have turned into a 'devil.' Some 
thief has stolen it and has by this time disposed of its jewels and 
ornaments and probably ruined the mechanical apparatus so the 
secret would be forever buried." 

"Why do you take on so ? I did not know before, Gordon, that 
you were as avaricious as you seem to be. I would not let the loss 
of paltry houses and lands affect me like that." 

"Ah, Robert, you do me an injustice. If you knew how litiie 
I care for the loss of houses and lands, as you say; if it were only 
houses and lands and no other loss attached to them! 
But, Robert, do you not know what it means to lose the clock that 
holds the secret of our birth. Means! Why it means that it places 
Dorris beyond our reach for all time. Don't ^ you see that if the 
clock is lost we would never know which one is the legitimate son, 
and neither of us could, in honor, continue our attentions to her? 
Oh, God, what a complication of affairs ! When will the truth be 
known? This waiting in suspense is more trying than the truth 

"Have you advertised yet?" Robert inquired. 

"I hardly think it is in this country," Gordon replied. 

"Well, you can't tell ; they might be afraid to dispose of it 
there and would bring it to New York or Chicago or they might 
have stolen it for ransom." 

"So you think I had better advertise for it here, too?" 

"Yes, and offer a reward that will be an object to them," sug- 
gested Robert. 

"What shall we offer as a reward?" Gordon asked. 

"I have nothing, Gordon, so make the amount as large as you 

^'Well, you had better get about it, if you want to get your 
ad. in for the evening papers." So Robert hurried him off before 
the subject of their conversation could give warning of its pres- 

"I will meet you at Sunnyside after dinner." 

The brothers met as agreed, not only that evening, but many 
afternoons they could be found at Ivy cottage, enjoying the society 
of Dorris and her sweet- faced mother. They read to her, rowed 


her about on the waters of the beautiful stream, fished, also enjoyed 
hammocks, and rustic seats on the green bank, sometimes staying 
to tea, after which they would repair to the piano in the tastily 
furnished parlor and listen to her soul-stirring music. Robert 
and Gordon, both having fair voices, sometimes joined in, so the 
hours passed very pleasantly. Nothing was said to the ladies about 
the loss of the clock, but they noticed Gordon's voice did not seem 
so cheerful, firm and hopeful as usual. They also noted that his 
face was pale and troubled. But the cause was not explained 
to either, until one day Mrs. Waite's eye happened to fall on the 
"Personal" he had inserted. 




Mrs. Waite's face turned whiter than that of Gordon's who 
was sitting near. He noted her agitation and seeing the paper she 
held in her hand, surn^ised the truth. He bowed his head in guilty 
attitude and was silent. Why was she so agitated and why was it 
she looked at Gordon's bowed head with such sorrowful, compas- 
sionate eyes? Only she knew. It was a secret that embittered her 
whole life. Robert and Dorris, who had been playing chess in the 
alcove, now arose and, excusing themselves, sauntered out to the 
old swing, Dorris inviting Gordon also with her eyes as she 
glanced back; but for once he did not see them, a horrible struggle 
was going on within him. At last, lifting his head and seeing that 
they were alone, Mrs. Waite and he, he arose. Glancing out of the 
window, he saw Dorris and Robert enjoying the large swing like 
two happy children. There was no chance of being overheard. 
Drawing a chair near, he opened the subject with set lips and 
drawn features. 

"Madam, I see you have noticed the ad. I inserted in the faint 
hope that I would obtain some clue to this twice-stolen time- 

"Yes, my dear boy, I have noticed it; and another thing I 
have also noticed is that you are worrying your life out over the 
loss of it." 

"Oh, why will you and Robert misunderstand me so? Believe 
me, dear madam, it is not the value of the clock in itself or the 
lands it might make me master of, for I assure you it is only a 
little drop in the great sea compared to that which I will lose 
if it is not restored to me." 

"And Gordon, that is what? Be candid with me. Look upon 
me as a mother." 

"A mother?" Gordon started. "Ah, that I could, madam. It is 
the dearest wish of my life to some day be able to call you mother, 
but the chance of having that right is forever lost, lost with the 

"And why is this? Speak plainly, I hardly follow you. You 
mean " 

"Madam, I mean that with the loss of this mysterious clock 
I have lost all right as an honorable man, I have lost the proofs 
of the right I should have to ask of you the hand of your daughter, 
whom I love with all my heart. And, madam, my conscience smites 
me. I can no more be a guest under your roof, for I know not 
if I have the right to mingle with honest and respectable people 
like yourself and saintly daughter." 





"Gordon, rest assured that there is nothing you can say that 
will ever make me think the less of you, or Robert, either. I be- 
lieve you both to be the souls of honor and truth, and the honor 
you do me when you say you love my daughter is great in itself, 
for I know none with so true and noble a spirit as yours. 
Only, I could not consider an offer for her hand for some time 
to come." 

"Ah, madam, you do not understand all. Let me finish, and 
then you will not repeat your last kind words to me." 

"My dear boy, nothing can change my sincere respect for your- 
and your brother." 

"My brother ah, I had forgotten for a moment. He loves 
her, too. And for this added reason I must speak and tell you the 
horrible truth, and I hope you will forgive me for the subjects I 
must allude to in order to put the facts before you in their awful 

Then in broken accents he told her of the death-bed scene when 
they were nineteen, and the secret revealed to them by the dying 
nurse, their plea to their father to tell them which one was the 
unfortunate child, how the old man answered all appeals with a sad 
shake of his gray head and said, " 'It is best for you not to know 
till you are men. You will be better able to look at things in their 
true light then. It was a matter of minor importance that made 
me so reckless when at immature age, and my recklessness has 
spoiled my whole life and the lives of others. I love you both ; 
my boys, and love you both too well to place a secret in your hands 
that you know too much of already. You shall have known this 
when I am dead, and your accusing eyes can not reach me in the 
eternal hell I have so well fitted myself for by this one act of my 
reckless youth. I did not expect to die till you were men grown, 
but I shall never see that day. This humiliation will shorten my 
days.' 'We still love you, dear father,' we said. 'I know you love 
me, but not as before. I cannot bear the accusing look in your! 
eyes.' 'When shall 'we know?' we asked him. After a moment's 
thought he answered, 'You shall know five years from this day. 
Yes, on the day of May 18th of that year, you shall know, but not 
until then, I swear. I will not add another wrong to the one I 
have already done you, for it would be wrong to tell you until you 
are men. Until then, try to think as kindly of your poor old father 
as you can under the existing circumstances.' 'But,' we replied 
'suppose you die before that time, how are we to know?' He replied 
that he had thought of this contingency and would prepare a means 
by which he could tell us even after death, and still intnust the secret 
to no living being. This greatly puzzled us, but we had to be con- 
tent, for he would say no more, only he told us one day that he 
loved us both, and had provided for us in his will. The property was 
entailed and it would have to go to the legitimate son, but a sum 
of money equal the value of the property would be left the other. 
Then, for almost two years, we saw very little of him. He seemed 
to shun the world. His lawyers and some mysterious foreign work- 


men were the only ones that he was ever at home to. He courted 
seclusion from us to such a degree as to step in a door-way until 
we had passed him, as we sometimes met him in the hall. Old Giles 
served his master's meals in a newly improvised work-room where 
he spent the greater part of his time, working on the clock that holds 
the secret of our birth I suppose. Shortly after this was finished 
he began failing. When we would occasionally catch a glimpse of 
him, we noticed that his form was bent and thin, his face was 
bloodless, his hair, formerly gray, was white as the driven snow, his 
eyes looked so longing and full of pain that I one day approached 
him, but he shambled hurriedly along and disappeared in his room, 
and thus he avoided us, until one day Giles informed us that his 
master was unable to rise. We hastened to his bedside, but he lay 
with his face from us, breathing heavily, as if in great pain. The 
family physician was summoned at once, but he could not diagnose 
his case. There was no disease responsible for his condition, but we 
thought it might be a disease of the mind. Anyway, he grew 
weaker and weaker. The doctor visited him every day and his 
lawyers quite often. Then they sent for you in regard to the docu- 
ments your late husband held. Then, he died while we were kneel- 
ing at the bed he lay upon with averted eyes. We beseeched him 
to look at us, told him that we loved him and that if he imagined 
we had anything to forgive him for that we freely forgave him. 
Then he replied in a voice so weak as to sound far away, 'You 
never can, I love you both, the clock will tell which one shall despise 
me the most when I am gone. The worms will soon be eating my 
miserable body, but the great clock will live on on on forever.' 
He feebly pressed our hands, but did not once look at us, neither 
did we see his eyes in death, for when the end came, which it did 
just as the gray of morning showed through the curtains and tht 
chimes of the wonderful clock tolled the hour of four, there was a 
convulsion of the body that twisted the bedclothes, then a rattling 
sound issued from his throat, the thin hands stiffene_d in ours, and 
when we gently released them, we found that he was dead, with his 
face buried in the pillow." 

There were tears in the good lady's eyes as he ceased speaking 
for a moment and there was a noticeable huskiness in his throat 
when he again continued. 

"He had made a strange request of the doctor, Giles and the 
lawyers, which they reluctantly carried out as he wished, and that 
was to be buried face down. Then, when all was over, the will wa. 
read, bequeathing all lands, properties and incomes to the legitimate 
son, while the illegitimate son was to have the clock alone. This 
did not seem to correspond with what he had told us, but we were 
so grieved at his singular death that we did not make comment on 
it at this time. Then after a long list of instructions and a gener- 
ous sum bequeathed to old Giles, his faithful servant, he stated that 
the clock was so constructed as to give up the secret as to who 
was the legitimate son and heir on the day of May 18th, 18. 
The clock was manufactured to run three years without winding 


When the three years were up the secret it held would be divulged. 
It was to be wound every three months from that time on, then at 
the expiration of the first three months another secret would be 
divulged, but what this other secret is, I cannot imagine." 

"You say the clock still held another secret?" Mrs. Waite's 
face was ashen white. 

"Yes, so the will reads. We have that to go by only. The 
will closed with an order to the lawyers for a cash sum of money 
which we were to use as suited us during the three years. I have 
managed well, but have very little of my share left. The thousand 
dollars I have offered as a reward is all with a small exception. I 
told you about the clock being stolen from the lawyer's vault." 

"Yes, Gordon, I believe you did." 

"Well, after regaining possession of it, I kept it at our home 
in London, from which place it was lately stolen. I have heard 
from the lawyers there and have given them instructions to offer 
$1,000 reward and more, if they will be responsible for the sum 
whatever it is above that figure, but I have little faith in any good 
resulting from it, as I think the thief or thieves have demolished 
it for the jewels and gold ornaments with which it was profusely 
and most magnificently decked. Now that you know all, my dear 
madam, can you still repeat the words of a moment ago?" 

"Yes, indeed, Gordon, and with more earnestness than before, 
for you have proved yourself a gentleman, legitimate son or not. 
You have imparted to me that which has, I can see, cost you great 
effort, but you did right. God bless you for it." 

"Thank you, madam, for your interest and good will. This 
was a duty I owed to you. I have discharged it. It should require 
no praise, and the _ fact alone that you will still tolerate me as a 
guest once in a while is more than I can expect." 

"Believe me, Gordon, you will always find a warm welcome 
here in our little home, whenever you care to honor it with your 

"Again, I thank you, madam. You are too kind." 

Warm-hearted tears sprang to the eyes of both during a moment 
of silence. Then he arose with a sisrh of relief, as though this unbur- 
dening of the secret had relieved him, as indeed it had, for he felt 
that he had always owed her this duty. Things took on a brighter 
look and as the silvery voice of the one he loved so fondly floated in 
at the open window, he wondered whv he had before been so gloomy 
and melancholy. So, with new warmth in his heart and light in his 
eyes he joined Robert and Dorris who were at this moment calling 

"I cannot see what, you and dear mamma can find so interest- 
ing to talk about all this time. Well, you look better for it, any- 
way. This is the first time I have seen you smile today." 

"Yes, your mother is a very interesting conversationalist. I 
enjoy hearing her talk very much. You will excuse me, I hope, as 
I must take my departure for the city as I have important business 
matters to see to. Oh, you need not look so downcast. I'm not 


going to take Mr. Robert with me, for you seem to be enjoying 
yourselves so well together. You are like a couple of children in 
that big swing." 

"Well, there is room for another, Mr. Long, if you will only 

"No, thank you, I must go. You know the old adage, 'Business 
before pleasure,' so I'm off. Good-by." 


Some time later he was at his quarters, eagerly inquiring for 
news. His valet handed him a dispatch and a letter. He opened 
the dispatch first. It was from the lawyers in London. "No news. 
Have offered $4,000 reward. Make the same offer there." 

He next gave his attention to the letter. It was a dirty, 
crumpled affair and directed in print. Reading the few lines in- 
closed, which were also in print, cut from a newspaper, his eyes 
danced and he could have shouted he was so overjoyed. 

The contents were as follows: 

"Mister Long, come to the lake front near the statue on the 
12th, at 10 p. m. Bring the money. Have got the clock. No 
money, no clock." 

"Let me see, what day is this? Why, the 12th, to be sure. It is 
to-night," he mused. 

The first spasm of joy had passed and he was now more calm. 
Then did he realize that it might be a scheme to rob him. 

"Well, I will go prepared at any rate. Jarl, get my pistols 
in shape." 

"Both of them, master?" 

"Yes, both of them. Put yours in shape also, and be prepared 
to accompany me at 9 :30 to-night. Just wear your rough-and- 
tumble clothes, for you might have to carry a load home of some 

"All right, master Gordon, I will have things in shape and be on 

"Jarl," as his master called him, was a boy from off the streets 
of New York. He had met him in a peculiar way. While visiting 
the "Bowery" one night to see the darker side of New York life 
he was set upon by two footpads and was fast being worsted 
although he fought desperately, when of a sudden, they broke and 
ran. Gordon could hardly understand this for there was not a 
policeman in sight or anyone else in this particular spot. "Here 
Mister, is yer hat." Turning around, he espied a typical "Bowery" 
boy. "Kind o-givin' ye de wust o' it, eh, Guvn'r?" 

"Yes, rather, but what gets me is why did they give up so 
quickly? They had me about winded." 

"Well. I'm de guy wot fixed it up for youse. Y* see, wen I 
dropped along I seed yer gettin de wust o' it. I jes sez kinder low 


like t' one of 'em, 'Lam, ye duffer, de elbows are on de rubber.' 
Dey took de office and blowed. See?" 

"Yes, I see; and you have done me quite a service, my boy. 
What can I do for you in return?" 

"Ah, dat's all right. Didn't cost me nothin'. But say, Boss, 
I 'ud like t' git ofen dis 'ere bowery. It's gitten on de pork. Youse 
don't know weare I cud git a sit at somethin' honest, does ye?" 

"Yes, I need just such a boy as you. Come with me." And so 
it was that Gordon got a good valet who was wide-awake, clever and 
nervy. This was some time ago. He was a man now and a man 
who looked out for his master's interests and could be trusted im- 

Gordon was so excited and pleased over the prospects of recov- 
ering the clock he could hardly eat. Later, he made his way to 
Robert's hotel and sent his card up. After a wait of five minutes, 
he was ushered up by the bell-boy. Robert was sitting by the win- 
dow and greeted Gordon coldly. 

"Robert, I have got the best of news for you. Read this." 

Robert read it, then re-read it, thinking rapidly the while. 

"What do you think of that?" 

"Well, if you want to know what I think, I think you would be 
foolishly risking your life to go." 

Robert, of course, knew at once that it was a put-up job to rob 
his brother, one of the wicked tricks of this wicked city, so urged 
him not to go, not that he cared much for Gordon, he did not wish 
him to lose the money. But Gordon was obdurate ; he would go. 

"Well, you can go. I won't go with you. So if you get 'bent 
up' and robbed, don't blame me. I warned you, remember." 

"Well, good-night. I will take Jarl with me, so don't worry. 
I will come and let you know if I get it." 

"You are more likely to get a broken head. You had better take 
my advice and stay away. You won't? Well, look out for yourself. 
Remember, this is not London. They do things bolder than that 
here in broad daylight. Well, gopd-by. I may stroll around that 
way about ten. That is the hour, is it not?" 

"Yes, that is the hour; but don't put yourself out if you have 
anything else that requires your attention which is of more impor- 

There was a hurt ring in Gordon's voice as he said this and 
made his way out. He could not see why Robert did not take more 
interest in it; but, in his kind-hearted way, he made allowance for 
his brother, explaining it to himself as he strode along 1 . 

"He thinks that he is to be the unfortunate one and this mor- 
bid fancy has taken such a hold of him that he accepts it as a fact, 
so I could not expect him to take the same interest in it that I do. 
But then, if he thought I was to be in danger to-night, why would 
he not accompany me? As a boy, he was always at the front, 
fighting my battles. He must have had an engagement to play 


poker. Oh, well, time has changed many things. He thinks more 
of a hand at poker now than he does of my safety." 

Arriving at the hotel, he told Jarl to go out to the lake front 
and hurry around to the opposite side of the statue. 

"Now, don't make a noise of any kind until I give you a sig- 
nal, then come to me at once ; you will see what is to be done." 
"All right, master, I will be on deck." 

It was now 9 : 30 p. m. Sending Jarl ahead, he followed, cross- 
ing Michigan avenue and striking the lake front near the statue 
which looked gloomy and foreboding. A figure could be seen 
crouching at the base of it, in the somber shadows, while another 
could be perceived approaching from out the mist which enveloped 
everything. Smelling foul play, he was on his guard. Was his 
man on the other side of the towering figure or was this the 
approaching valet? He was inclined to think so as he drew 
nearer, for there was something familiar in the walk. So, with 
renewed confidence, Gordon walked rapidly on with quick energetic 
strides which brought him nearer and nearer to the proposed meet- 
ing place. His heart beat high with hope at what he saw as he 
reached it, for there was a large sized bundle on the ground and 
near by stood what appeared to be a day laborer. 

Addressing him, Gordon inquired if he was the one that had 
answered the "Personal" in the Journal. The man, who was well 
built but short of stature, shot a quick glance into his questioner's 
face, then ran eyes up and down Gordon's figure as if he were 
mentally calculating his strength before he made reply. 
"Yes, I'm de one. Have you got de money?" 
"Yes. I have the money. Have you the clock ?" 
"Yes, I got it, and hard work I had gettin' it, too." 
Gordon glanced around at the bundle in the shadow. "Is 
that it?" 

"Yes; dat's it, but y' don't get it till I gets de coin. See?" 
"That is fair, but of course you will let me satisfy myself that 
it is really the clock I advertised for, will you not?" 
"Yes, but I must see de color of yer coin first." 
Gordon was taken off his guard, and being assured that the 
clock was found, he could hardly conceal his eagerness. As he 
pulled a long English bill-book from his inside pocket and showed 
the supposed laborer the contents, the greedy eyes peered out from 
under the workingman's cap and inspected it closely. 

"Dat's all right. I guess yer on de square and yuse can take 
a look at it. You'll find it a pretty lively machine." 

And so he did. When Gordon approached the supposed clock 
close under the shadow of the towering statue, he thanked God for 
again placing it in his care; then he bent forward, but his eager 
hands had hardly touched the huddled up mass at his feet when 
they were grasped at the wrists in a vice-like grip, and^the supposed 
clock sprang to life, materializing into a strong, athletic figure of a 
man, who cried out: "Here, pal, cop de leather and blow. I see 
some guy on de rubber. Hurry up!" 


But his "pal," as he was designated, required no urging. He 
already had one of his strong arms around Gordon's neck in such 
a manner as to press on his windpipe, choking and depriving him 
of speech; while with the disengaged hand, he extracted the leather 
book. Gordon struggled, wrenched and twisted, but of no avail. 
Taken at a disadvantage, he was like a feather in the hands of these 
men who seemed to understand their business well. 


He tried to cry out for help, but it was an effort which only 
caused him to smother and gag. He could not give the signal 
agreed upon to warn his man, Jarl. Then it was for the first time 
in his life that he felt what it was to be wholly in the power of 
another. He continued struggling, but only succeeded in tearing up 
the turf with his feet. Again the man of the sack addressed the 

"Have ye got it?" 

"An course I got it. Tink I'm asleep?" 

"No, but I tink we'd better put dis guy to sleep if we're goin' 
to make our git-away, cos he's kinder troublesome." 

"No, nix, let 'im holler. He's too weak t' do anything else 
but holler an' won't be able t' holler very loud at that, fer I'll jes 
take anuther twist on his pipes. He's about " 

The words were never finished, for two heavy boots belonging 
to a litthe body which had dropped from a projection at the side of 
the statue struck him square in the face and he was carried to the 
earth. The other turned to make his escape. Gordon, thus released, 
fell exhausted on his knees, then struggled manfully to rise, but of 
no avail. He was too weak. On his hands and knees, he crawled 
to where Jarl was struggling with his late assailant who was curs- 
ing fearfully. Robber number two did not run far, for on seeing 
that there was only one man in plain clothes and not a posse of 
blue-coats, as he expected, he rapidly retraced his steps and made 
a savage lunge at Jarl with the butt of a large revolver; but his 
arm was caught in the weak grasp of Gordon just as it was about 
to fall. Then there was a weak struggle, followed by a blow from 
the weapon which stretched Gordon almost lifeless upon the ground. 

"Dat's what I otter done in de lead-off. Dis is wot ye gits 
wen yer easy wid a mark." Again he advanced toward Jarl with 
murder in his eyes. He raised the weapon the second time, but 
again it failed to descend, for a shadowy figure that had been hov- 
ering near ran up behind in a steathily manner and threw one of 
its arms around the neck and under the chin of the robber in the 
very same manner that his "pal" had handled Gordon. With the 
other he reached over and set his vice-like fingers on his wrist. 
There was a cry of pain and the fingers that clutched the weapon 
relaxed, letting it fall to the ground. There was another bitter 
struggle. Then robber number two lay an unconscious heap ^on 
the damp ground. The new comer who knew the "garroter's" trick 


so well was Robert, in a knock-about suit and in his usual disguise. 
He glanced at his brother's upturned face. It was bleeding freely, 
so he gave him a roll with his foot which brought his face down- 
ward, allowing the blood to soak into the earth, instead of standing 
as before in stagnant pools around the eyelids. Robert then turned 
his attention to Jarl and the robber number one, who was making 
a desperate resistance. The boot heels had struck his face in such 
a manner as to leave a flap of the skin hanging over the thug's eyes, 
obscuring their vision entirely. Even with this disadvantage, he 
was holding his own well, and making a desperate fight. They had 
rolled over and over, now one on top and then the other. They 
were fighting like wild beasts, keeping each others hands too busy 
to allow the use of a weapon. It was an awful battle. Their 
heavy breathing and loud curses were drowned by the churning of 
the lake, mingled with the rumble and roll of wheels along the 
near-by boulevard. Jarl's early bowery education stood him well 
in hand now, and he used every scientific art at his command in his 
endeavor to overpower his antagonist, but without success, other 
than to keep him too busy to use his weapon or get away. Robert 
could not tell which one was Gordon's man, Jarl. About all he 
could see were four legs being thrown about in every direction with 
such rapidity as to look like a dozen pairs. The bodies were writh- 
ing and twisting and for faces, once in awhile he could just discern 
two patches of white streaked with blood. He examined the other 
two forms on the ground, apparently dead. 

"Well, they are taking a pretty long nap, although I see one 
is now stirring slightly. Guess I will give him a little more "bro- 
midia." The "bromidia" consisted of a blow on the chin, causing 
his jaws to snap together. The lower one fell, while his eyes flew 
open only to remain in a fixed stare like death. 

"Ah, that is the ticket, my boy," he 'coolly muttered. "Now let 
me see what you have got in your clothes." Stooping, he examined 
every pocket, but his search resulted in nothing but a bunch of 
skeleton keys. Placing the keys in his own pocket, he then went 
through Gordon's clothes, but only found some letters and a few 
dollars in change. These he replaced. 

"Well, I wish he'd wake up and go home and sleep. It would 
be safer. I told him not to come out here." He hesitated and 
looked down at him thoughtfully. "Ah, I could kill him as he lies 
there, completely at my mercy. I could kill them all for that tmt- 
ter. Why is it that I feel such a hankering after blood?" He 
glanced about, but could see no one in the mist and gloom that 
had settled around them, except the battling figures a short dis- 
tance to the left. Again turning his attention to them, he ejacu- 
lated, "Well, well, I thought they would both be ready for the coi- 
oner by this time, but they seem as fresh as ever. Ye gods, how 
they bleed ! Blood ! blood ! everywhere." The great statue 
frowned down on the sickening scene. The breathing was getting 
heavier and louder, the cursing was getting fainter, then a still 
weaker voice cried out : 


"Master, I have done my duty. I die. God help me." 

This last sentence seemed to raise the fury in Robert. "You 
call on God, man ! Why don't you call on man ? Man is nearer. 
Which one of you call on God?" But the answer so faint was 
again drowned by the curses, then a sound of gurgling and choking 
followed. Robert thought this was the end. 

"Well, I guess one of them is going to find out if there is a 
God or not by the sound of that rattle which suggests 'cold meat' 
for the devil to warm over." But no, they still fought on. The 
thug was now on top. Stepping nearer to them, Robert gave him 
a sledge hammer blow which sent him flying from off the man 
below, but still did not have the effect he had anticipated. After 
a moment's laborious breathing, both of the blood-stained men 
struggled to their feet again and found their way to each others 

"Well, I never did see anything like that ! These Americans are 
all grit. It's a 'bowery' boy against a 'levee' boy. I would just like 
to see which one wins the fight. The one that curses and calls on 
the devil or the one that calls on God. I think the one that calls 
on God is Gordon's pupil that he picked up on the Bowery. Well, 
he hasn't forgotten how to scrap yet, for he didn't learn that out of 
his Bible, I'll warrant you. Ah, there goes one of them to grass 
now. No, by jove! he is up again, and they are at it once more. It 
makes me think of old Patch's bulldogs." 

It was but a moment, though, before they were both rolling on 
the blood-soaked ground. The curses that so continually rent the 
air while the combat was in progress now ceased entirely, which 
gave the spectator, who watched and waited for the issue with such 
cold-blooded coolness, the impression that the blasphemer who had 
called on the devil was vanquished. It did not seem to please him 
that right had apparently won over wrong. The black clouds which 
had gathered overhead began to shed rain which fell in large drops. 

The four forms were now lying motionless on the blood-soaked 
turf. The rain increased and mingled with it, forming little rivu- 
lets which forced their way around the base of the statue while 
they met to form one large pool, a combination of good and evil 
blood, joined together by the tears of heaven. The same that 
revived the drooping blades of grass, pressed by heavy feet, also 
revived the four forms and stirred them into new life. 

Robert had grasped the limbs of one of the two forms he had 
likened to bulldogs and was endeavoring to pull them apart; but 
they held on in true bulldog fashion. He exerted all his mighty 
strength, but the other form was dragged along with the first. He 
stopped to ascertain the cause. Then did he see the reason for 
the sudden discontinuance of profanity; and the calling on his mas- 
ter and his God. One had his teeth set in the fleshy part of the 
others throat, while he, in turn, had his set firmly and deeply into 
his opponent's thick ear, and thus they hung together. Every effort 
to pull them apart was in vain. 


"Well, they are tougher than English beef! I'll fix them, 

He took one of the revolvers and tried to insert the long muz- 
zle between the teeth that were sunken in the neck. It proved too 
large. He set his foot between the two men. This was also useless. 
Then, losing all patience, he grasped the thick neck of one with 
both hands, pressed strong fingers around it and succeeded in choi<- 
ing him into insensibility. Even then he had to pry his teeth open 
to release the throat from their death-like grip. Taking the other 
by the limbs, he gave him a quick jerk, accompanied by a dextrous 
twist. They were separated, but the teeth of the robber (as this 
one proved to be) shut with a snap like a steel-trap as they were 
torn from the ear, bringing with them skin and flesh which he 
chewed and swallowed, then commenced to curse. 

"Oh, I wish as dat wer his heart, it ud taste better, d 'ini. 
I'll yet make a meal off'n his heart and wash it down with his 
blood. I'll learn 'im to rubber around an' jump off'n statues onter 
me face. I'll have his Wot yer doin'? Is dat you, pal?" 

Robert had pulled him some distance from the other to prevent 
them from getting together again, for he was stirring and making 
a strong effort to regain his feet. 

"No, this is not your pal. Your pal is taking a nap over there 
alongside the cove he touched up for the 'leather.' If you will be 
a good fellow now and get next to yourself, I will see you out of 

"Be you one of de boys?" the thug inquired. 

"Yes, pull yourself together a little and 'lam.' " 

"Did I do for de guy wot jumped off'n de statue on me face?" 

"Yes, I guess he will never try to imitate Steve Brodie again." 

"Sure, he is done for. Sure, he's cold meat." 

"Yes, I say. Now stow your gab and 'blow.'" 

"No, not me, pardie, I'll not 'lam' and leave me pal." 

"Well, say partner, I can't help admiring your grit and your 
allegiance to your pal, but " 

"Well, dat's me gait. I never gives me old pal de short end 
of it." 

"Well, then you get behind the statue over there, and I will see 
if I can't get him onto his pins." 

"Say, but yer a pretty good feller. Who are ye? I don't run 
agin yer kind every day." 

"There, stow your gab now and get under cover behind that 
statue. If I give a sharp whistle, just blow for the lake and cop a 
rattler for the 'patch/ foot of the 'black belt.' I may see you 

"But say, pard, got a pin?" 

"Yes. What do you want with a pin?" 

"Coin' ter pin dis 'ere cursed skin up off'n me lamps. Dat 
guy pretty near made lace curtains out of me mug." 

"Here is a handkerchief; this will be better." 

Robert handed him a silk handkerchief, one of those belonging 


to Gordon that he had supplied himself -with in London, (.an article 
doomed to play a tragical part with the future of our hero, Gordon) 
and quickly made his way back to the others who were fast being 
revived by the rain, which was now falling in blinding sheets. It 
put him in mind of his escape in the rain and fog from the Lon- 
don prison. As he drew near, he saw the figures of two of the men 
(Gordon and the second robber) making a weak effort to reach the 
shining revolver that Robert had forced the thug to drop. It about 
divided the distance between them. They laid their hands on it 
simultaneously, then there was a struggle, the weak with the weak, 
the good with the evil, and so again the blood of the evil and the 
good from their steaming bodies mingled with the rain, to be carried 
along in little rivulets to the stationary pool formed near the feet 
of the waiting robber who had raised the hanging flap of skin and 
bound it in place ..with the handkerchief. He was just finishing up 
with a wash in the pool of rainwater and blood when he heard a 
shot and a curse. Bounding over this, he ran around the statue, 
meantime feeling for a weapo.n. None. Then, like a wild man, 
he leaped on. He had heard the voice of his pal, but it was not 
his pal that had uttered the curse. Robert, although he saw the 
struggle between the two men, had hastily stopped and searched the 
pockets of Jarl, who was now showing faint signs of life, for the 
missing money. 

"Not there! Where can it be?" He had searched them all. 
The thug he had searched during his conversation easily per- 
formed on account of his blindness. "Well, I suppose I ought to 
give Gordon a helping hand and break this little entertainment up." 

With this object in view, he sprang toward the men who were 
fighting desperately. Gordon, seeing what he thought to be re- 
inforcements for his antagonist in the way of his pal, exerted all 
the force at his command, tore the weapon from the robber's grasp 
r,nd leveled it at the approaching form'. There was a sharp report. 
One brother unconsciously fired upon another. The bullet passed 
through the fleshy part of Robert's arm. Robert was an expert pis- 
tol shot, and, raising one of his weapons with a loud curse, he sent 
a bullet tearing through his brother's hand, knocking the gun many 
feet away. Then he shoved the cold steel against the cheek of the 
thug and in a voice that had only one meaning in it ordered him to 
throw up his hands. They flew up like a jumoing-jack's, pulled by 
a string. Gordon at once saw his mistake. He started to explain, 
but Robert cut him short and gruffly told him to go and look after 
his man. He picked up the gun with the uninjured hand and 
started to obey, wondering who the friend was that came to -his 
assistance, meeting with such a poor reception. Meantime, Robert 
was informing the robber that his pal was waiting for him on the 
other side of the statue, and that they had better get together if he 
hadn't gone already when the subject of his remark bounded into 
view out of the gloom and cried : 

"Not on yer tintype, me friend. I'm right here, Johnny at de 


rat hole. Wot's de game now? Who's turning der cannons loose 
out here?" 

"Well, I was turning one of them loose," Robert replied, "and 
I will turn a couple more of them loose in about a minute if you 
fellows don't 'lam.' The 'elbows' will be down on us and have 
you guys playing checkers with your noses at the station. If they 
do get you, they will lock you up and throw the key away. That 
face of yours would get you a ticket to Joliet any time." 

"Oh, stow yer kiddin' and tell me wot ye got me pal's mits in 
de air fer. I tot yuse was me friend." 

"So I am, because you showed me that you were the pure 
article grit and loyalty and all that 'rot,' you know. Now I just 
want to see if you have got good sense with it. If you have, you 
will 'blow/ and if not, I will have to use these gentle persuaders 
and make you 'blow,' or blow your thick heads off. See?" 

As Robert spoke in a rapid, quick, commanding way 1 , he had 
drawn another revolver with a blue barrel and was rapidly and dex- 
trously twirling it around on his trigger finger. 

"Yer right, pal, de 'elbows' and de blue-coats '11 be here ticker 
dan flies round a sugar barrel, pretty quick." 

"Twist, now," Robert urged. "Here they come. Lively! Cop 
the rattlers and blow the limits." 

A police call could be heard and dark forms began to appear 
as the two robbers broke and ran around the statue, disappearing 
from view. With a bitter curse number "49" threw all the guns 
he had collected in a heap on the battle grounds and also disap- 
peared just as two detectives appeared, running like deer towards 
Gordon and Jarl, who were now both on their feet. Jarl, being 
very weak, was supported by his master. 

Robert, alias number "49," made his way to his rooms unob- 
served and quickly removed his dripping clothes. He then exam- 
ined his wound. It was painful, but not serious, merely grazing 
the flesh. After washing and dressing it neatly, he retired and 
enjoyed a good night's rest. Such exciting scenes were food to 
this strange nature, but his dreams were of Dorris, alone. 


Early the following morning this strange man again dressed 
the wound in his arm and was soon on his way to Dorris' pretty 
home, accompanying his thoughts of her by humming a little tune 
as he strode along the wooded pathway. The morning was beauti- 
ful after the rain, and Dorris, fresh and rosy, was feeding her 
robins, which had increased to four in number. He gazed at this 
peaceful scene and could not help but contrast it with the scene 
of the evening before at the foot of the great statue. He dofferl 
his hat and stood at a respectful distance, careful not to scare her 


pets away. She glanced up in surprise as she heard his footsteps 
on the gravel. 

"Ah, good morning, Mr. Long, you are out early?" 

"Yes, you know what they say of early bird." 

"Weil, now, how fortunate. I have a whole canful that little 
Leo, a neighbor's boy, brought over to me this morning as he well 
knows I always go fishing after a shower. You can have some of 

"Well, I will accept on condition that you allow me to accom- 
pany you." 

"Why, yes, I will be pleased to have you, if you wish; but 
remember, you will have to bait my hook for me." 

"It will be a pleasure, I assure you." 

"Ah, now you have scared my robins away." 

"I am indeed sorry, but then I am sure they will come back 
again. They would not desert their 'lady bountiful.' " 

"Why, Mr. Long, I almost believe you are trying to pay me a 
compliment. I am sure those poor little birds like me for the 
crumbs I throw them. I am almost afraid they would desert me if 
I ceased to throw them a crumb once in a while." 

"You call them 'poor little birds,' Miss Waite, I envy them." 

"And why so, Mr. Long?" 

"Because you throw them crumbs in plenty, while to me you 
cast never a crumb that I might pick up hope from." 

"I hardly understand your meaning. Ah, there is mamma." 

Mrs. Waite had just stepped from the house to get the morn- 
ing air. Greeting Robert affectionately, she chatted a few moments, 
cautioning her daughter to take care of herself on the water, and 
wandered along the path by the stream. After a half hour's 
stroll she at last 'found a seat on one of the benches and gazed 
out over the water with sad and pensive eves, which became more 
troubled as they alighted on Robert and Dorris casting their lines 
from the little boat far up the river. Their voices, full of laugh- 
ter and sunshine, reached her ears, sometimes sounding very near 
and then far, far away, as if they just came to her in a dream. 
This was due to the varying of the early morning breeze, as it ever 
and nnon changed its course. 

She drooped on her knees at the bench and offered up a praver 
full of penitence, and closed with asking the hand above to guide 
the affections of her beautiful child into the channel of love that 
would bring her peace and freedom in the future. "O God, I pray 
and beseech you to shape the course of mv daughter's affections so 
as not to leave her forever rrhaony when the truth is known. Pun- 
ish me, O Lord, for mv sin deserves it; but let not my sin be 
visited unon her, whom T have keot so pure in thought as to make 
it impossible for me to warn her by putting ?n impure thought or 
knowledge of wrong into her mind as a checkmate to her possible 
affections in either direction. So I beseech you, O Lord, let yonr 
hand guide her heart the riorht way for peace without sad- 
dening her pure life with a thought or knowledge of the perfidy 


of this wicked world, for evil reigns here on earth. I pray you, O 
Lord, to liehten her load and keep my noble boy in the right path 
and not visit the sins of his parents on him. Amen." 

As she slowly rose to her feet and resumed her se?t, Gordon, 
who had heard this strange prayer, of her heart, stepped forward. 
He had happened along while she was kneeling, and removing his 
hat had stood with bowed head until she arose. There was emotion 
in his voice as he greeted her with excuses for being an uninten- 
tional listener. She smiled through her tear-dimmed eyes and made 
room for him on the bench at her side. He accepted the proffered 
seat and kissed with reverence at the same time her hand which she 

"Madam, you deserve all the favors that God has to give. He 
will certainly answer your appeal to Him. Your prayer has given 
me comfort, also, for the subject of it, in part, is the silent prayer 
I have offered up many times, and have never yet felt the hope and 
confidence that I did as it fell from the lips of one so holy and 
righteous as yourself." 

She shrank from him slightly as these words fell on her ear, 
and her voice quivered as she replied: 

"O God, that I were all that you deem me! What a blessing 
it would be in my coming old age ! You think kindly of me, Gor- 
don, indeed it is generous of you. God grant that you may always 
think thus." 

"Always, my dear madam, always will I revere you as I rever- 
ence you now, for I know there can be no sin in your life, past, 
present or future, so cheer up. You should not feel so denressed 
as this on such a lovely morning. We all have a great deal to be 
thankful for, and you, Mrs. Waite, most of all." 

"All? Why T most of all. Gordon?" 

"Why? The subject around which our thoughts and prayers 
are centered, your lovely daughter. Are you not most fortunate 
and blessed as the mother of such divinity and purity and grace? 
Madam. I have traveled over many countries, but my eye has never 
been gladdened with a sight of such loveliness, nobleness and purity. 
Her love should make you hapoy in itself. Even the faint hone 
you have allowed me to entertain, that I may some day in the 
unknown and fickle future come to you and request the privilege 
of laying my love at her feet, is a guiding force which influences 
my every thought, my every action, my Listen ! Is that not her 

Her silvery voice was wafted plainly to their ears by the shift 
ing of the breeze. 

"Yes, Gordon, that is her dear voice, and I am indeed a most 
fortunate woman to have the love of so devoted a daughter. It is 
a blessing I do not deserve." 

"And why not deserve, my dear madam?" 

"Do rot ask me, Gordon, it is a secret I must carry in my own 
heart to the grave. Now you are my guest, and it is not good form 
to burden you with my troubles. So we will walk towards the 


house, if you wish. Dorris and Robert will soon return, both hun- 

She dried her eyes and composed herself while she was speak- 
ing and arose to take Gordon's arm with a smile of returning cheer- 
fulness. Then she noticed his face which was bruised and pale 
from last night's encounter. 

"Gordon, why did you not tell me? Here I have been talking 
of my troubles and you all bruised, pale and ill. What has hap- 
pened? Who could have been so cruel?" 

"Oh, it is nothing of any consequence at all, I assure you." 

"Tell me, my boy, keep nothing back from me. Tell me the 
truth. I know if you tell me anything at all, it will be the truth. 
What is it?" 

Being thus cornered, he narrated his adventures of the night, 
as they proceeded on their way to the house, only leaving out the 
bloody and sickening details which he knew would greatly shock 
her. As he finished, she exclaimed : 

"Yes, we have a great deal to be thankful for. It is fortunate 
that you did not lose your life. I almost believe that it was this 
that caused me to be so restless last night, and so depressed and 
low spirited this morning." 

"Possibly so." 

They had reached the house. "Did I understand you to say 
that Robert is here and is with Dorris on the river?" 

"Yes, there they come now, and oh,, how happy they seem." 

The two in question were rowing toward the landing, their 
voices blending well together in one of Harris' latest songs. Mrs. 
Waite continued on to the house to more fully compose herself, 
while Gordon started for the landing to meet them. As they caught 
sight of his pale face, the song was cut short and they both eagerly 
inquired the cause, expressing sympathy all in the same breath. He 
told them what he thought was best for Dorris to hear. Robert, 
the clever actor, asked many questions, as did the ladies, but seeing 
that he did not like to discuss it, they took up topics of a more 
pleasant nature. As soon as the meal was over, the two brothers 
excused themselves and went for a stroll, arm in arm. When they 
had cleared the house, Gordon in answer to Robert's request in- 
formed him in detail of everything that had occurred the night 
before. As he got to where the shots were fired, and told of the 
mysterious stranger coming to his assistance, Robert asked if he 
had any idea who he was. 

"No, not in the least. He was commonly dressed and looked 
like a Spaniard. He is a good shot whoever he is. He could have 
killed me for shooting at him, but he merely shot the gun from my 
hand, scarcely grazing the fingers. You see these two pieces of 
court plaster? Well, that is all the dressing it reauired. but poor 
Jarl is pretty badly used up; he almost gave up his life for me. 
Many times he has told me he would, and he oroved his words last 
night. I pity that robber if he ever meets him. I am afraid he 
will kill him. Dr. Harsher, the surgeon, and myself were at his 


bedside all night, patching up his numerous wounds. This morn- 
ing early, he said : 'You picked me up on the Bowery some years 
ago when I was a bad un, and you have tried to teach me to speak 
right and not swear. I never could learn to speak very proper, but 
I did quit swearing. For over two years, I have never sworn a 
word, and I won't swear now, master, if you say not, but please, 
master, just you and the doctor step outside for ten minutes till I 
make this air so blue that you can't see me when you come back. I 
have got it all bottled up here.' I looked at the doctor who smiled 
and said : 'You had better let him uncork, it will do him more 
good than medicine.' So I told him to pull the cork while the 
doctor and I went to breakfast. We had hardly closed the door 
when he took the fullest advantage of my permission. When we 
returned, he was still at it, and there were two or three bell-boys 
and a half dozen chambermaids outside the door, scared to death, 
listening with all their ears. As^we crowded through them and 
opened the door, he chopped off in the middle of a long bowery 
compliment (as he cajls a swear word). He was all of a sweat, 
and heaved a great sigh as if he were sorry we had returned so 
quickly, and I guess we were gone fully an hour. The doctor I 
think is laughing yet. The first thing Jarl said was, 'Thank you, 
master, you have saved my life.' 'Yes,' I replied, 'but you came 
very near scaring the life out of the house servants. You had quite 
an audience out in the hall.' 'Well, master,' he said, 'I am sorry, 
and I wouldn't have cut loose if I had of known that. I thought I 
was playing out a hand with the devil alone.' I assured him it 
was all right, that he had earned the privilege. And while I 
am speaking of him, Robert, I wish you would promise me to look 
after him in a way, in case anything happens to me. He is true 
blue, and a man that can be depended upon." 

"Certainly, if you were unfortunate. But I think you will 
always be in a position to look after that. But to come back to 
your adventures on the lake front; you lost the $1,000, you say?" 

"Yes, but not for long, for almost the first words Jarl said 
after I raised him to his feet were, 'I got it, master, I got it.' 
'You have what?' I said. 'Why, the money, of course.' He reached 
down in his shoe and brought up the ten one hundred-dollar bills 
I had been robbed of. I replaced them in my pocket. I can tell 
you I felt much better, for it is a large sum of money to me just 
now, although my lawyers have telegraphed me that I may draw 
on them for $4,000 or $5,000 in order to secure the return of the 

Robert's eyes glistened as Gordon mentioned this. 

"I have already increased the reward to $4,000 here. They 
have also offered $4,000 there in London. Well, as I was saying, 
this put me in a much better humor and we were just about to 
return to the hotel when a blue-coat and two detectives came run- 
ning up. They pumped us dry with all kinds of questions. The 
blue-coat was bound to arrest us both, but the two detectives, who 
seemed to be pretty gentlemanly sort of fellows, argued the point 


with him and won the argument by sending him after another. 
policeman (who had just made his appearance, all out of breath, 
in a macintosh and bad humor), to try and overhaul the thugs, while 
they accompanied us to the hotel, in order to give us a chance to 
verify our statements. Arriving there, they satisfied themselves 
that we were all right, and left us, to assist in the hunt for the 
bandits. They said they would report this evening what success 
they had met with. They gave their names as Detectives Rometto 
and Arlex; a couple of keen men, if I am any judge." 

"Well, Gordon, I am glad that you did not lose the money., 
How did your man regain it? I understood you to say it was in 
a large book." 

"Yes, and so it was, but it seems that Jarl, while struggling, 
managed in some way to extract the money, leaving the book still 
in possession of the robber, who, probably by this time, has dis- 
covered the fact and is cursing worse than he did last evening, or 
Jarl this morning. Well, Robert, it was a great disappointment to 
me, for I was positive I was in possession of the precious clock 
once more, when I saw the bundle in the shadow. But I could not 
help laughing with the detectives to see them gather up all those 
guns. When they had placed them in their different pockets, it 
made me think of the visit you and I mide to a pear orchard once. 
But there is one thing I can't understand." 

"What is that?" 

"Why is it the thugs left all those weapons when they could 
just as well have taken them?" Robert smiled, but only said: 

"Did it puzzle the detectives too?" 

"They did not say, but they looked puzzled. Now I must go 
back to the city and look after matters a little. I suppose you wHll 
be ready to accompany me to England by the 16th if we do not suc- 
ceed in getting any trace of the clock here?" 

"Yes, if we fail to get trace of it here, I will be ready to go 
to England with you, but if we should by ?ny chance get wind of 
it here, the lawyers will have to come to Chicago." 

"Well, I presume that could be arranged, but I have little 
confidence in again securing possession of it. I am afraid some 
thief has stolen it for the jewels and ornaments of gold that adorn 
it, and the clock is ruined by this time." 

"Well, we will hope not, for your sake." 

"For my sake, Robert, ?nd why not for your sake, as well?" 

"Well, I don't think it holds any good for me." 

"But, Robert, anything will be better than this awful suspense, 
this uncertainty! So I guess I will just step in and say good-bye 
and return to the city at once. There may be a cablegram from 
London. My strongest hope lies in that direction. I would not 
have come out to-day at all, but calling at your hotel this morn- 
ing, I found you were away, so took the chance of finding you 
here. Are you going back to the house? All right, then we will 
go in together. Robert, you have not forgotten our compact, have 


"No, I have not forgotten it." 

"Well, I am sure you will keep it, too. We must remember 
the duty we owe her." 

On reaching the house, Gordon made his adieu and was soon 
whirling back to the city's center, while Robert lazily killed the 
time in this little garden of Eden, and like the serpent, he was 
exerted all the power possessed by those magnetic eves to hypnotize 
and even against her will, bring her to believe in him and love him. 
Would he succeed? 

Gordon found a dispatch from his lawyers in London. He 
opened it with trembling fingers. "Good ! The Scotland Yard 
men have traced it to America through the Custom House officers. 
That is news, good news! Robert will be pleased to find that his 
theory was a correct one anyway, even though he doesn't seem to 
take the interest in it he should. Let me see, the dispatch says to 
draw on the Bankers National for $4,000. I might need it any 
moment if that personal should reach the right thief's eye, so I 
will draw on them at once." 

An hour later, that amount was locked away in Jarl's room, 
ready for immediate use. Jarl, himself, was much better and 
seemed pleased at the confidence his master placed in him. Later 
on Arlex and Rometto, the two detectives who had befriended 
him the night before, droooed in and reported that they had one of 
the robbers and if he wished to prosecute him, to call at the Har- 
rison street station at 9 o'clock the following morning. But Gor- 
don informed them he did not care to prosecute the fellow. They 
replied that it was his duty to, but he stood his ground, so they 
cheered Jarl up a. little by telling him they thought he would pull 
around all right in two or three years. 

"Two or three years?" he cried, "Wot ye givin' me? Two or 
three days, ye mean. I was raised on de Bowery, I was." 

The detectives laughed good naturedly and left. After they 
had gone, Gordon was wondering if it would have been policy to 
tell them of the mysterious clock. Arriving at no definite conclusion, 
he decided to put the question -off until he had consulted Robert, 
so after supoer, set out for his quarters. 

"Yes, Mr. Long was in." After a wait of five minutes, he 
was shown up, and eagerly imparted the good news to his brother, 
who seemed more interested than at any time previous, especially 
so when the $4,000 were mentioned. In reply to Gordon's question 
about cutting it into the hands of the detectives, he said : 

"Most certainly, brother, it is a very good idea. If you hear 
nothing more by tomorrow, I would certainly do so." 

There was a quite, mysterious smile flitting about the corners 
of his mouth as he spoke, then he excused himself, saying that he 
was expected at the club. So Gordon returned to his apartments 
and awaited further developments, which proved to be be- 
yond his wildest expectations. While enjoying a weed at the open 
window and looking down the busy streets of the wicked city, he 
noted in particular a closed hack which drew up near the ladies' 


entrance and fell into line with the many other vehicles of every 
description which line the curb day and night. Little did he sur- 
mise that it held the mysterious clock and his degenerating brother 
in disguise. But such was the case. A moment later, there was 
a knock at the door. It was repeated many times before he at 
last was made aware of it, for the noise from the street drowned 
all ordinary sounds. Raising his voice, he bawled an invitation to 
enter. A second later he was somewhat surprised to behold the 
very hackman he had noticed on the seat of the vehicle that had 
just drawn up. 

"Is this Mr. Long?" 

"That is my name." 

"Mr. Gordon Long?" 

"Yes, Mr. Gordon Long. What can I do for you?" 

"Well, I dunno es ye kin do enything fur me, but I got a 'fare' 
down dere wot wants t' see ye pretty bad. He sez as he is too 
ill ter come up, and he wants ye t' come t' me rig. Mebby ye kin 
do someting fur 'im." 

While the man was speaking, many thoughts flashed through 
Gordon's mind. At last he replied, "Did he say what he wished 
to see me about?" 

"No, he only sed as he wus too sick t' come up, an as ye wus 
t' come down." 

"What kind of a looking man is he?" Gordon inquired glancing 
at his visitor sharply. 

"Say, govn'r, I ain't paid fur answerin' questions, I ain't. I 
gets me money drivin' hack, I duz. I told ye all he told me t' 
tell ye. See?" 

"Yes, I see. See if you can see C on this." And as Gordon 
spoke he tossed him a silver coin. The non-committal hackman 
deftly caught it, spun it in the air with a grin, and was non-com- 
mittal no more. He in return told Gordon all he knew of the 
matter, which was little to the point. 

"Well, govn'r, he's a Mexican er Spaniard, wid a stoop in his 
back an he aint got enuf good clothes on him t' dust a fiddle. Ye 
see I wuz returning from de park on de nort side after dumpin a 
couple of 'fair weather floats', (a young feller and his gal) on 
de grass, when dis feller hailed me near de dock on Rush Street 
and so I rushed his nibs over here. Guess he got off de boat fur 
he wer luggin' a big case ." 

Gordon waited for no more. Bounding to his feet, he left 
the surprised hackman standing in the middle of the floor and 
rushed into Jarl's room. Securing a heavy revolver, he shoved it: 
in the breast of his coat, then returned for the cabman. Together 
they started for the street. He could not wait for the "lift," and 
the hackman could hardly keep up with him as he hurried down 
the marble stairs, two at a time. The hack, itself, was drawn up 
in the dark shadows. Gordon glanced in. Seeing only one figure, 
and nothing alarming, he drew still nearer and opened the con- 
versation in a sharp, quick, business-like tone of voice. 


"Do you wish to speak to me, sir?" 

"Yes, if your name is Gordon Long." 

"That is my name, sir. What is your business with me?" 

"Do you know me?" 

"No, I do not remember of meeting you before. Still your 
voice sounds familiar. What is your business with me? Come to 
the point at once." 

"Well, I have about $4,000 worth of business with you if you 
happen to have that much in cash about you." 

"I do not as a general rule carry a sum as large as that, but 
I have that amount in the hotel. I suppose you refer to this in 
connection with the clock I advertised for." 

"You have guessed it. I've got the clock. You bring the 
monev and we will trade." 

"You shall have the 'money if you really have the clock, but 
you will have to satisfy me beyond a doubt that you have it with 

"Well, here it is. Take a look at it." 

As the occupant of the cab spoke, he drew back the flap of 
a heavy case and exposed to the eager gaze of Gordon the top 
ornaments he knew so well, an angel decked with gold trappings 
which shone in the dim light. Being satisfied that it was the 
mysterious clock that was playing havoc with his life, he quickly 
returned to his quarters. Entering Jarl's room, he found that he 
was asleep. The light was dim, and not wishing to arouse him, 
and thinking to give him a surorise later on, he secured the money 
without turning up the gas and swung around to retrace his steps, 
when the cold barrel of a revolver pressed against his cheek. As 
he felt the cold muzzle of the weapon he also recognized Jarl's 
voice who cried in meaning tones, "Put my master's money back, 
or I will make cold meat of you sure." 

Gordon half turned and looked^ along _ the steel that gleamed 
so near his eye. He laughed and said, "It is I, Jarl." 

Jarl dropped the gun and confusedly stammered, "Is it really 
you, master? I thought it was a robber." 

"Yes, it is. I, and I see that you were looking out for my 
interests as usual. Now I am in a great hurry. You get back 
into thnt bed before you dislodge all of those bandages and the 
thousand and one stitches or Dr. Harsher will give you more than 
fifteen minutes with the devil." 

"All rip,H, master, you'll find I am 'Johnny on de spot.' Dey 
wont nobody give ye de worst of it even if I am done up in about 
a hundred yards of medicated linen." 

Gordon laughed and hurried out, closing the door between 
Jarl's room and his suite. When he struck the walk, the hack was 
gone. His spirits fell to zero. Was he ag^in to be disappointed? 
Where could thev have eone to? He looked about in every direc- 
tion, then naced the walk restlessly. But again hope sprang up in 
his heart, for there coming towards him was the hack. As it drew 
up the mysterious occupant inside explained. 


"You were gone so lone. I thought you were going to 'Job' 
me, but I see you are all right, that is you'r all right if you have 
got the 'long green.' " 

"You mean the money?" 

"Yes, I mean the money." 

"Well, I have it here. You set the clock on the walk and I 
will give it to you." 

The lower door of the hack opened and a dark faced, stoop- 
shouldered man stepped out, the precious burden in his arms. As 
he stooped still lower to place it on the walk, he kept his eyes 
thrown upward, watching Gordon like a hawk. Then rising, held 
out his hand for the money. Gordon again satisfied himself that 
there was no mistake, by feeling of the bundle and forthwith placed 
the money into the outstretched hand, remarking, 

''Now there is the money, $4,000, tell me how you " 

"There now, that will do. Remember the ad. in the paper 
said as you would ask no questions. You got the clock, I got the 
money. It's a good trade, and you had better take your end of the 
trade inside before some boot-black swipes it from you. And as to 
myself, I will just say Bye-bye, my generous friend for this money 
is burning a hole in me blooming pockets and cabby's tongue is 
swelling up on him for the want of drink." 

With this parting sally, he re-entered the hack, evidently in, 
the best of humor, for Gordon could hear a faint chuckle as it 
rattled off towards Wabash avenue. Calling a servant who was 
loitering near, he had him carry the clock to his rooms, and it 
was soon ticking off the minutes as merrily as ever. The next 
thing was to telephone to Robert, which he did immediately. Rob- 
ert, the clever schemer, had just returned, and was making his 
change. In five minutes time he had completed his toilet and was 
talking to his brother over the wire, who said, "Come over at 
once. I have the clock." 

Twenty minutes later, Robert was with him, standing before 
the mysterious clock that held their destinies, asking all kind's of 
questions as to how he got it, etc., while his heart beat evenly 
and regularly against the $4,000 reward paid to the mysterious 

The brothers selected fresh cigars and prepared themselves 
for a chat over plans for the short time to come before the clock 
would give up its secret. They were well pleased over their good 
fortune, each in his own way and there was not that restraint which 
had been so evident for the past few days. It was about the first 
really good feeling that had existed between them on both sides 
since the scene at Ivy cottage when Dorris was watching the robins 
with her soul in her upturned eyes. That innocent upturned face 
had surprised what little good there was in Robert, and brought 
it to the surface with the promise he gave Gordon, only to break 
it later. 

"It is in good order, I suppose." 


"Yes, it seems to be. When I set it to the correct time it was 
ten minutes after the hour. In fifteen minutes it will strike and then 
we can tell." 

"Did you ask the fellow how much time it had lost while it 
was in his possession?" 

"Well now, what a dumb-head I was, to be sure. I never 
thought of that, although I did start to ask him some questions 
about it, but he reminded me that it was out of form, and not in 
the understanding. Well, it probably has lost some time, and it 
will be heard to tell just how much." 

"This is the 13th day of the month." 

'|Yes, it is the 13th. Old superstition quotes that the 13th 
day is an unlucky day. It is disproved in this instance, as it has 
been a lucky day for us. I know Mrs. Waite and Jarl will be 
surprised and pleased." 

"You told Mrs. Waite, then?" 

"Well, she happened to see the personal and asked me about 
it. She seemed greatly interested." 

"Will you have the lawyer come here?" 

"We can if you prefer it." 

"It would suit me better. You have not cabled them yet?" 

"No. I had not thought of that. As soon as it ^strikes the 
hour, I will go and send a cablegram. Shall I tell him in the same 
dispatch to come on?" 

"Why, yes, I would. It is necessary for him to be here, is 
it not?" 

"Yes, so the instructions in the will read if you remember." 

So they chatted on, smoking the while, till the sweet chimes 
they came and watched the mechanical figures as they crossed the 
face of the clock. As the last miniature figure disappeared through 
of the clock interrupted them. As it began to tell of the hour, 
the arched doorway, another figure, life-size, swathed in bandages, 
glided in. Surprise and pleasure were written on every portion of 
the homely features that was visible to the eye, and listened with 
them to the beautiful strains of music that now issued from the 
miniature cathedral. As this at last ceased, they turned to confront 
the figure of Jarl, who wore only his night robe, patches, and a 
broad grin. After explaining to him how it happened, they sent 
him back to bed, and summoned the doctor, for he had managed 
to loosen every bandage and patch since he had mistaken Gordon 
for a robber. 


The day following, they met at Ivy cottage, and Mrs. Waite was 
informed of their good luck. She was overjoyed at the news, and 
years seemed to roll from her life. The little wrinkles that had 
gathered of late were smoothed out, and she was the happiest of 


the four happy ones that day. Why was this? Because it lessened 
her daughter's chances of having her life blasted. 

"Gordon, our prayers have been answered." 

"Yes, I believe you, madam. I felt a confidence after listen- 
ing to your heartfelt prayer that I failed to feel before." 

"My boy, do you think it will be cafe there at the hotel?" 

"It will be safe till I return, at any rate. It is in my man's 
room and he is lying in bed with two large revolvers as compan- 
ions. I pity any poor creature who attempts to steal it while he is 
responsible for it." 

"Yes, no doubt it is safe now, but will it be if there should 
be a fire, or you and Jarl were both away, or even while you sleep 
you might lose it in some way. Gordon, why not bring it out here, 
no one would think of this out-of-town place as the keeper of such 
a treasure? It would be safe here, I am sure." 

"You are right, madam, it is a good idea. I cannot thank you 
too much for your kindness and forethought. I will return at once 
and bring it." 

Just as the sun was creeping , out of sight over the western 
banks of the stream, Gordon appeared with his treasure and de- 
posited it on the vine-clad veranda. Dorris, the only one who had 
never seen the wonderful clock, was naturally the most curious, 
and could hardly wait till it was brought into the cozy parlor. It 
was quite heavy and Gordon had zealously lugged it from the sta- 
tion. One could not tell from the impassive face of Robert whether 
this pleased him or not. He said very little as they deposited it 
on the center table. 

Mother and daughter examined it with an awed expression. 
It was the most beautiful and artistically designed clock Dorris had 
ever gazed upon. The jewels and gold ornaments were worth a 
little fortune in themselves. Gordon set it at the correct time, 
which was a few minutes of the hour. They clustered around and 
waited, after stilling the old family timepiece. It was the first rest 
from its ceaseless tick-tock for many 'years. The last rays of 
the sun were finding their way through the vine-decked window 
and cact a red glow on the gold face of the London clock which 
was reflected around the shapely head of Dorris like a halo. She 
bent forward in eager expectancy as it began to register the hour 
with its beautiful chimes. Many conflicting thoughts ran 
riot through the minds of the two brothers as they gazed 
at her with eyes of emotion and love. They watched 
her every fleeting expression as she listened and watched in 
pleased surprise and wonder, until the last strains of sweet music 
died away. For almost a minute, she stood as if in a trance, then, 
recovering herself, she lifted her lovely brown eyes, only to lower 
them immediatelv with a blush as they encountered those of the 
brothers. In that one swift glance, she had read all. These 
men, who she thought so good, so handsome, so accomplished, loved 
her. It came to her like a revelation from heaven. For a moment 
she was confused and troubled, but quickly regained her composure 


and broke the silence in exclamations of praise and admiration for 
the beautiful work of mechanical art. From that day on, there was 
a change in her. She would sit for hours thinking deeply, while 
it could be~noticed that the constraint between the brothers became 
more pronounced, although Gordon was always kind and consider- 
ate, while in turn, Robert had little to say and that little was in 
a somewhat distant but polite tone whenever he addressed Gordon. 
As to Dorris, he exerted all the magnetism in his power to win 
her regard. And so the spring days slipped away, 

* * * * * * * 

Jarl was soon up and about and spent & good deal of his tim,e 
on the levee with an old chum named Hank, from the Bowery, 
whom he accidently met at McGinnis' Sporting headquarters. His 
new chum was an Irish wit with a bowery and levee education.They 
had nothing to do but look for trouble and they found plenty of it 
in the "tenderloin district," as they term that portion of the south 
side from Van Buren street to the black belt. They spent their 
time in the haunts of vice and hell-holes of iniquity, abounding 
in the "Wicked City," looking for Jarl's enemy, the short thug. It 
was like living their bowery days over. 

The two brothers spent the best part of their time in Sunny- 
side at Ivy cottage, where purity and virtue presided in the graceful 
form of Dorris. 


It was now the 23rd of the month, a chilly wind came in from 
the east, and with it Mr. Bunnes, one of the London attorneys, 
with a business air, and his pockets full of legal papers. He was 
met at the station by Gordon, who drove him to the Palmer House, 
where he registered him as his guest. The lawyer seemed to be 
of an amiable disposition, although rather affected in manner for 
a man of his profession. At any rate, he shook hands warmly 
with Jarl on meeting him and ag^iin shook hands after Gordon had 
related their adventure on the lake front, posing Jarl as a hero. 
Then he inquired about Robert. Gordon replied, 

"He seldom comes to see me here. About the only time I see 
him is when we meet at Mrs. Waite's. You remember her, I be- 

"Oh, yes, I do, indeed. Her husband was a lawyer and one of 
the finest gentlemen, both in a business and social way that I ever 
had the honor of calling my friend. Yes, she and her daughter 
live on the estate he left them known as 'Ivy cottage,' in a beauti- 
ful spot near S"nnyside on the banks of the river." 

"So I understood. The daughter was born there. I believe. 
I had the pleasure of visitinsr them when she was a little srirl no 
larger than a minute, with the prettiest eyes and hair I ever saw. 
If she has fulfilled the promises of her childhood, she must be a 
handsome young woman indeed." 


"Well, you can judge for yourself, for we will call upon them 
if you wish after you have had a god night's rest." 

And so it was agreed. The following day found them at 
Sunnyside. Robert was there before them. They all spent a 
pleasant day and finished up with music after tea. The lawyer 
heartily approved of the plan to keep the clock in its present quar- 
ters until the day it should reveal the great secret it held. 

"And, by the way, I find by taking a certain matter into con- 
sideration, we had overlooked at the time, that the three years will 
be up on the 28th of this month instead of the 18th of the coming 
month, as supposed. So, upon the 28th we should all gather here 
and await developments, if Mrs. Waite does not object, for it may 
inconvenience her to a considerable extent." 

"You are all most welcome to make my little home yours as 
long as you wish, and as far as inconvenience is concerned, it shall 
be turned into a pleasure, besides I am greatly interested in this 
strange time-piece as is my daughter, also. Therefore, it can be 
no other than an agreeable arrangement all around." 

"We are certainly indebted to you for your kind offer, and it 
is only fair to inform you that we will stand watch day and night, 
possibly for weeks, as we do not know how much time it has lost 
during the period it was in possession of the thief, or thieves as it 
may be." 

"Now as to that, we have plenty of spare rooms and I shall 
insist on you utilizing them as long as you wish. As far as being 
up night and day, we, my daughter and I will sit up and watch 
with you by turns for we are both dying with curiosity to know 
how or in what manner it is going to tell which one is the heir." 

"You are kindness, itself, madam, and to return that kindness 
in part, I will satisfy your curiosity (which is only natural under 
the circumstances) to the fullest extent of my ability and knowl- 
edge, a knowledge that even these young men do not possess, unless 
they have made a shrewd guess." He cleared his throat, adjusted 
his gold-bowed glasses, then surveyed the eager and interested 
faces of all present, before he volunteered further information. Be- 
ing satisfied with the sensation he had created, he slowly arose 
and approached the clock. 

"It is very simple, as you will see," he added. The others 
had followed and pressed around him. 

"None of you rnve yet formed an opinion as to how it is going 
to give up its secret?" 

Yes, they had all formed opinions, but no two alike. Some 
were visionary and some more practical, but none exactly hit the 
truth. So he gave it to them in all its simplicity. 

"If you have observed the bridal party closely as it appears 
from the mansion on the left, you probably noticed the bride has 
two escorts, ere at each side of her, besides the other figures that 
make up the party." 

Yes, they had all noticed the fact. 


"Well, one of them represents Robert, while the other rep- 
resents " 

"Gordon," a voice broke in. 

"You are right, the other represents Gordon." 

He looked around to see who had spoken. He looked over 
his glasses and under his glasses, and even through them, before 
he could determine from whence this remark came. The daugh- 
ter's face was pale and distressed, but a tell-tale blush chased the 
paleness away and told its story, as his sharp eyes swept her 

"Ah-ha, that's the way the wind blows," so the lawyer thought 
to himself as he again cleared his throat, caught the glasses as 
they slipped from his nose, and continued with a provoking calmness 
and precision which was mildly irritating to his audience who were 
all deeply interested in what he had to say. The lawyer, himself, 
enjoyed the situation and made the most of it, prolonging it. as 
far as possible. , 

"Well, as the bridal party arrives at this spot which I des- 
ignate with my finger, there is a halt of a minute, during which 
time one of the escorts at her side disappears through this little 
pathway. The remaining figure which accompanies them into the 
church is the heir." 

There were eager questions from all except Robert, who stood 
in the background, watching Dorris with drawn lips and a pre-oc- 
cupied air. "How are you to know the name of the one that re- 
mains in sight?" 

The lawyer answered this question by producing from an inner 
pocket, a round magnifying glass, to which was attached a handle. 
With provoking deliberation, he carefully rubbed and polished it 
in silence with a black handkerchief, a color in keeping with his 
other apparel, for he was clothed in black from heel to hat. At 
last he condescended to speak. 

"You see this?" 

"Yes," they cried in a breath. 

"Well, this is what tells the tale. The puppets will soon ap- 
pear and you can see for yourself, for it is about to strike the 

In breathless silence they waited. As the mellow sounds of 
the chimes ceased to vibrate, and the bell began to toll, the mini- 
ature figures appeared. Handing the glass to Dorris, he instructed 
her to look through it and tell the others what she discovered. 
Taking the glass in her feverish hand which trembled slightly from 
emotion or excitement, she covered the slowly moving figures 
They appeared much larger. 

"Now, tell us what you see." The man in black requested. 

In a trembling and confused voice she replied : "I see plainly 
the name 'Robert' on one while on the other is the name of 
'Gordon.' " 

"Well, you see it is simple, as I remarked before." 

She handed the glass to her mother, who also looked through 


it as did Gordon. Robert, alone, declined to be interested^ He 
had taken a turn about the room and was critically examining a 
painting by Dorris. When they turned to offer him the glass, he 
swung slowly around and rejoined them, but the figures had dis- 
appeared and the sweet strains of music were issuing from the 
cathedral. Robert now asked his first question. 

"What becomes of the one who so mysteriously disappears to 
the regions below?" 

"He reappears," the lawyer replied. 

"When does he reappear?" 

"He is supposed to appear again three months from the date 
of his disappearance." 

"Does he appear again on this pathway?" 

"No, if you notice, directly below the pathway, here in the 
base of the clock is a panel. This panel flies open and he glides 
out from somewhere in the mesh-work of mechanical apparatus it 
is so honeycombed with onto this little projection." 

"Then what?" 

It was Mrs. Waite that had spoken, who was nervously biting 
her lips. Even Robert's face now bore a look of deep interest, as 
the tantalizing lawyer, in turn scrutinized every visage. 

He had told all he, himself, knew, but replied, "That is all I 
am allowed to divulge at this stage of the proceedings." 

There was a disappointed expression on every face which 
pleased him greatly as he noticed it, for if there was anything he 
reveled in it was a mystery like this. Their curiosity and interest 
was food for him. He could still have them guessing and speculat- 
ing upon the outcome of the secret months after the disclosure of 
the first. Mrs. Waite's face wore a troubled look, as she later 
on followed her visitors to the door to bid them good-night. Both 
of the brothers, in turn pressed Dorris' hand at parting, Robert 
retaining it in his warm clasp somewhat longer than was proper, 
considering the compact between the brothers. Gordon noticed this 
and was much troubled. 

Was Robert keeping his word? It did not appear so. He had 
lately noticed many little circumstances which aroused his suspi- 
cions. Robert left the gentlemen at the gate and turned north say- 
ing he was going to keep an appointment with a friend who lived 
near by. As the other two strolled toward the station, they discussed 
many things of interest to both. They also speculated on the reason 
why Robert acted so strangely, the subject first brought up by the 
lawyer. It had become a mystery to Gordon as to why his brother 
would never visit him or accompany him on his way out. They 
talked it over at some length, but could see no practical reason for 
his peculiar actions. 

The following day, Robert contrived to meet Dorris as she 
was taking her morning drive behind Bonny Bess. He bowed and 
stood with uncovered head. She could do no more than invite him 
to join her, an invitation he readily accepted. After a pleasant hour's 
whirl along the boulevards and through the parks, an hour which 


he made the most of, they returned and passed the remainder of 
the day in the simple pleasures which the grounds furnished them. 
Gordon did not appear. He spent the day with his friend from 
London, showing him about the city Londoners termed wicked. 

The day following this, Robert took a trip to Milwaukee and 
while there ordered a reversible coat, made up in the latest style. 
By promising the tailor an extra fee, he was in possession of it 
by train time. Next day at the Hotel Atlas, he made some other 
changes and found the coat a perfect fit. It would just answer 
the purpose he wished, for it could quickly be reversed from a 
plain black to a light colored tweed. 

"If I could only rig up a reversible hat of some kind, I would 
be fixed. I must take no chances while that lawyer is here. He 
is a foxy old 'guy,' and might smell a rat and put 'Scotland Yards' 
next to me." 

Having secured two heavy flat revolvers, of a late make, he 
returned to Chicago and spent the entire night studying out a 
plan by which he could manufacture a reversible hat, and still have 
it look neat and stylish. Daylight peeped in at the window before 
he closed his eyes in sleep, with the problem still unsolved ; it was 
the first thing in his mind upon awakening. It followed him to his 
late breakfast. Still he could not see his way clear to a success- 
ful accomplishment of this ingenious idea, so he dismissed it for a 
time, but did not give it up entirely. He had work before him. He 
must win Dorris' love and bring about a marriage, if possible, be- 
fore the first of the month, for that would be about the time the 
clock would tell its tale, figuring in the time it had lost, which 
he calculated was nearly three days in all. He had, after careful 
consideration, renounced the plan of again obtaining possession of 
it; he decided to take his chances with Gordon, although the dying 
words of the old nurse kept ringing in his ears, and he was certain 
she was right, and certain that the chances were against him. He 
had decided that it was one chance in as many thousand, but he 
had also decided to take that one chance, since he had heard the 
lawyer's disclosure regarding the second mystery it contained. 

And so it is that sometimes the minds of some of the shrewd- 
est and most deeply calculating of men are changed to suit the 
purposes of fate. He decided to test his chances with Dorris this 
very day. Attiring himself neatly, he was soon walking along the 
little path that led to the summer-house. He was in luck. She 
was reclining on a seat, in the summer-house, enjoying one of Wil- 
cox's books of poems. He took the book from her hand and pro- 
ceeded to read some of the most emotional verses while she listened 
enraptured, for his voice was round, soft and suggestive. He threw 
into it a feeling that had not been in his nature since his youtii. 
So they chatted and read, he exerting every wile in his oower to 
hypnotize her with his wonderfully magnetic force and fan the 
friendship and respect she had for him into love. Her naturally 
strong mind was gradually being influenced by his still stronger one, 



His eyes chained hers; she could hardly resist as he on his 
knees poured out his passion for her and asked her to become his. 
She allowed him to take her two hands and press them passion- 
ately to his lips. She seemingly could not resist; she could not 
tear her hands away to hide her blushes, neither cculd she utter 
the word "no" framed in her throat. He pressed her to speak the 
one word that would make him the hapniest and most blessed of 
men, and her the happiest of women. His eyes burned into hers, 
his breath fanned the lace at her throat. With a pained expression 
on her lovely face, she tried to speak. The words would not come. 
She hardly knew her own mind for a moment. She also disliked 
to give pain to any living thing. She saw he was so earnest in his 
entreaties. One hot, beseeching word followed another in rapid 
succession as he entreated her to utter one little word in reply. 
He used every argument, every fond expression at his command, 
even bringing the little good that was in him to the surface to 
peep out and bolster up his most clever arguments and more clever 
acting. His persuasive power was grand. Her silence boded 
good, he thought, and, thus encouraged, he slipped his arm around 
the slender waist and drew her to him, while he pressed a kiss 
upon her hair. It was this that lost the day for him, for as soon 
as she was out of range of these burning, magnetic eyes, she came 
out of the trance-like state he held her in, and with a stifled cry 
tried to draw back; but he held her close and rained kiss after 
kiss, not only on her hair, but her eyes and cheeks. Her mouth 
also did not escape from the passionate caresses. He had lost all 
control over himself for the first time in his life. He forgot all, 
only that he loved her, and he had her in his arms. She grew 
weak from the struggle and excitement. This was evident in 
her voice, as she-cried for him to desist, to allow her to go, she 
could not be his. But he held her still closer and pled and 
prayed her to unsay the words she had just uttered. 

"No ! No ! Robert, I cannot be your wife. If you love me as 
you say, let me go!" 

"No, my sweet love, you must not go from these arms till 
you promise to be mine. You must not say 'no.' My love over- 
powers me. Is there another who would give you such love as 
this? No. I cannot let you go, my Dorris, my sweet Dorris. Can 
you turn away from a love like this love of mine? No, you shall 
not. Promise me, darling, promise to be mine. Your life shall 
always be one happy dream. Say the little word that will make 
us both so happy for all time to come." 

"No. Impossible." 

"Why impossible, dearest one? Why impossible?" 

"I don't know why it is, but if is. Something tells me so." 

His mad passion was consuming him. He had lost all reason. 
The lace at her throat was disarranged, disclosing her fair bosom. 
Drawing her to him, in spite of the now desperate struggles, he 


glued his lips to hers, drawing in the sweet breath from her cure 
soul. His passion-inflamed eyes noticed the snowy breast, his hot 
breath scorched the tender flesh as he madly pressed kiss after 
kiss upon it. Her hair had become loosened and fell about her 
shapely shoulders in picturesque disorder. Her tender brown eyes 
had a frightened and pleading expression in them, as she begged 
him to release her. His mad passion frightened her and set her 
heart against him. In her struggles to release herself from his. 
embrace, she regained her feet, but her strength gave out and 
she fell from sheer exhaustion on the bench, carrying her passion- 
crazed persecutor with her. And it is hard to tell how far this awful 
uncontrollable passion would have carried him if there had not at 
this moment been an interruption. The gravel crunched as a foot 
pressed it, coming along the path. Robert saw the shadow cast by 
a figure in the doorway, but he heeded not. He was devoid of 
reason, his passion had crazed him for the moment. As he knelt, 
pressing his burning kisses upon her chaste neck, exposed bosom 
and face so fair and sweet, a strong hand grasped his collar and 
he was thrown through the door, landing on his back. His passion 
fired with love now took the form of anger. There wns a wicked 
look in his inflamed eyes as he regained his feet. He stood in 
the door for a moment and watched the scene within which caused 
a murderous gleam to add itself to the wicked look already there. 
Dorris had sprung forward into the arms of Gordon. By instinct, 
she seemed to know she had an honorable protection in him. She 
was still weak and trembling as she hnner heavily on his protecting 
arm, while with the other, he adiusted the lace over the exposed 
bosom and fastened it at the milk-white throat. No word was 
spoken until he turned to assist her to the cottage. Their eyes 
met those of his brother. The hate and revenge to be seen in 
them was offset bv the sorrow, compassion and pity in those of 
Gordon. Dorris shrank closer to her rescuer as if for better pro- 
tection. Seeing this, Robert's anger broke its bounds. He took 
a step forward. 

"You meddler!" he hissed. His hand stole its way back to 
the butt of one of the pistols which he, for some reason, now wore 
at all times. 

"What ! You would kill me," Gordon cried, "for saving you 
from yourself and your mad folly? You should thank me instead." 

The hand hesitated but still fondled the handle of the weapon. 

"Thank you? You? And what have I to thank you for? Must 
I thank you for stealing the love of the only being I care for? 
Thank you for interfering when I am pleading my suit and thank 
you for laying heavy hands on me, actuated by your own jealousy? 
You take advantage of my position to creep on me unawares and 
tumble me in the dust at her feet. Then you expect me to arise 
and thank you. Oh, no, a thousand times no. I hate you, my 
Christian brother, I hate you! You you oh, you shall pay dearly 
for this, if not to-day, there are other days coming, and I swear 
some of them shall te made bitter ones for you, so bitter that you 


will pray for death to release you from the awful agony and suf- 
fering they will bring you. You shall grovel in the dust at rny 
feet, and beg of me to end the miserable life you are so afraid 
of losing now a life that I now give you, for I do not care to 
distress her, the only thing on earth I love, with the sight of your 
blood. Oh, you little know the demon you have stirred up in me ! 
I give you your life, but it belongs to me. Remember, to me. And 
I take it some day when I have made you suffer for this by plant- 
ing gravestones around your heart, and plant one at your head as 

These words were shot out rapidly in a menacing tone while 
he drove meaning and conviction with every word. He sank them 
deep into the hearts of Gordon and the trembling girl, and clinched 
them with a manner and tone which was convincing to his listeners 
who had grown white and distressed. Gordon spoke : 

"Robert, you will certainly think better of those words when 
you are cool, and unsay them. You are " 

"I mean every word I say, and what is more, you know that 
I mean them. You also know that I have given you your _ life, 
and knowing this, it is now you that should thank me, for it is an 
article dearer to you than the lady at your side." 

"Robert, you are mistaken." The blood leaped to Gordon's 
face at these words, but he reolied in as quiet a tone as he could 
command. "I am truly sorry that this should happen, and for her 
sake, I suggest that we discontinue the exchange of compliments 
as you can see it distresses her greatly. But do not think that I 
am a coward, because I am considerate. It is the duty of any 
gentleman to moderate his actions and language in the presence 
of a lady. I would also suggest," he quietly continued, "that 
when we meet in the parlor shortly, we carry no evidence of this 
scene with us in our bearing towards one another for Mrs. Waite 
is a lady of delicate nerves. Now, then, if you will allow us to 
pass, I will escort Dorris to her mother. It is a shame to sadden 
the young with such scenes as this." 

"Then why did you interfere?" Robert hissed. 

"It was my duty, as a brother to one, and a friend to the 

"Friend, indeed! As a jealous, would-be lover, you mean," 
Robert retorted. 

Gordon shrugged his shoulders. 

"I do not wish to argue the question with you in her presence. 
The fact that you took advantage of her and broke the compact 
we had made excluded you from even my respect, and you certainly 
cannot regain hers by continuing this most unpleasant conversation." 

Then h was, as the curt tone fell on his ear and he saw the 
aversion in Dorris' eyes, that he realized that he had, by one 
fell stroke, lost all, all chance even of winning the resoect of the 
one he loved so desperately and passionately as to forget himself 
as he had in the summer house. It came to him like a flash. He 
blamed Gordon. His hand involuntarily crept around and again 


fingered the handle of a weapon, while his eyes burned into theirs 
and they expected the worst to happen. But the best happened 
instead. He half drew the weapon, shoved it back into his pocket 
and as quickly turned and struck off among the trees They 
watched his retreating form until they could see him no more. 
Then listened to his footfalls till they grew fainter and fainter. 
As the last sound ceased, Dorris drew a long sigh of relief, gently 
withdrew from Gordon's protecting arm and made her way to the 
house, with head bowed under the first sadness of her life. She 
found her way unnoticed to her room, and the pent-up tears flowed 
while heavy sobs racked her heaving bosom, so lately polluted by the 
lips of passion. 


That evening they all met in the cozy parlor, and passed the 
time with simple games and music. Robert was politeness itself. 
He had regained his wonted coolness, and the rest failed to notice 
anything unusual. Dorris was slightly confused whenever Robert 
addressed a remark to her, which he did quite often, seemingly with 
some ulterior motive. The lawyer was in excellent spirits, and 
was the life of the little party. He demonstrated that he could bt 
witty as well as genial. He was loud in his praises of the so-called 
wicked city and reluctantly admitted that it was too "swift" for 
him. Before they took their leave, an arrangement was made to 
all meet in the city and take a box at the opera. This was agreed 
upon by some with fervor and others with slight reluctance. 

Gordon and Dorris slept very little that night. Gordon was 
greatly troubled about his brother. Dorris was troubled because 
she held a secret from her mother, the secret of the summer house 
scene, and the secret of her love for Gordon, for she had been 
obliged to admit to herself, with a blush and a throbbing heart, 
that she loved him, and loved him with all the strength of her 
pure nature, a love that could never be destroved. It hid been 
a question with her as to which one she really did love, knowing that 
there was love in her heart for one or the other ; but is was decided 
by the events of the evening, events which had changed the girl 
into a woman and shown her heart its ways. 

Robert slept not at all. He soent the night at the "Owens- 
burg." a well-known club house. Just as the wage earners began 
to stir into life and find their way along the streets to their dif- 
ferent places of emolovment to earn their way by honest toil, he 
stepped out and joined the seething mass of poor humanity, and 
was carried along with it towards his quarters, $1.500 lose r . 

At the opera th^t evening he was the same polite, suave, ?mU- 
ing companion of the former davs. but there was something in 
the cynical smile which olayed around his mouth during the whole 
evening that was unfathomable, even to the shrewd man from 


London who studied his face at intervals during the play. The 
face and play engrossed almost an equal share of his attention. 
The play held few charms for Robert. Most of the time he was 
watching the entranced face of Dorris, as she gazed in admiration 
at the stage upon which was placed a strong and affecting drama 
to which was given life and reality by a well-known and popular 
actress. As the curtain dropped on the last scene there was a 
tear trembling on the lash of tender-hearted and sympathetic 
Dorris, but as she turned and met the eyes of the brothers fixed 
upon her, she quickly brushed it away, arose and passed out with 
the others into real life as it is in Chicago just after the 
many theaters have turned their thousands and thousands of 
patrons out on the streets to mingle with the late pedestrians. Robert 
bade them good night and as the carriage door slammed, dodged 
back into a side room off the lobby. Making his change, he pre- 
sented himself at the club to try and retrieve his losses of the 
previous night, but luck was against him. Eight hundred of the 
ill-gotten gains followed the rest, so he left in disgust, cursing 
"faro bank" and the man who invented it. 

The following day, he met the others at the cottage and played 
the part his double life required of him. His deportment was 
perfection and there were three of the assembly who were puzzled 
and at a loss to understand him. The lawyer knit his brows 
and pondered. Dorris avoided him as much as she could bin 
Gordon failed to note this. The questions that agitated his mind 
were, "Does she love Robert?" "Was she a willing party to the 
scene of the summer house?" He could not believe it, but still 
the question kept crowding in between his better thoughts of her, 
almost poisoning his mind against her. Then he would rail at 
himself for countenancing the thought for a moment, but still it 
would return. She avoided him even more than she did Robert. 
Had he done Robert a wrong in humiliating him as he did? Could 
it be? No, he had done right, he at last concluded. If a fire were 
consuming those he loved, it was his duty to save them, even if it 
were at the cost of their good will. 

Mrs. Waite suspected nothing and little dreamed there was a 
secret in her dutiful daughter's heart she did not share. Tht 
lawyer was enjoying American hospitality and the interest he 
created as the supposed holder of a secret, which he firmly be- 
lieved of importance to all. So the days rolled away, swiftly fo 
some, but oh, how slowly for others ! 

The 28th was now at hand and all gathered together in the 
parlor. They expected no developments the first day, so whiled 
away the time with music, games and story-telling. "The man in 
black" entertained them with many anecdotes and some mysteri- 
ous happenings of real life. He would occasionally wedge in a 
ghost story and during the narration of these ghostly tales nothing 
could be heard except the even voice, the gentle sighing of 
the wind 'through the large pines that stood in front of the house, 
like sentinels on guard, and the tick-tock of the mysterious clock 


which ticked on unconscious of the fate it held for some of those 
silent listeners. The story-teller warmed up when he noticed the 
impression he had made, and reeled them off in profusion. There 
was also a sprinkling of witty stories which raised many a laugh. 
He held their attention hour after hour, except when the beautiful 
chimes of the clock interrupted ; then all would turn and watch the 
figures appear and disappear with abated breath, and interest most 
intense, in fact almost distressing, even horrifying to some who 
just began to realize the seriousness of the affair. To think that 
this mechanical apparatus, designed as a clock, a common clock, 
could speak in its own way like a voice from the grave and make 
one of these stalwart young men a rich land owner who would 
be respected, feted and fawned upon by the world, while the 
olher would be made a pauper, an outcast from society, forced into 
the elements his birth had fitted him for, to seek out that poor 
creature who was responsible for his existence and condition ! 

The "Price of Crime" is certain misery; and if moral laws 
are broken, it will bring misery to some and generally to those whose 
lives and happiness depend upon the evil doer. If not in one 
generation, in another. Men sometimes commit one sin to rectify 
another, but it only grafts a branch onto the stalk of the first deeply 
rooted sin which grows on and on, branching out thicker and 
thicker, year after year, and generation after generation, until 
there is a thick foliage, green and slimy, full of corruption which 
contaminates the innocent who pass under. 


As the chimes told the hour of midnight, straws were drawn 
to see who should stand the first night's watch. The lawyer had 
explained that two witnesses to the phenomenon were required, 
one of them to be one of the brothers. The first night fell upon 
Robert and "the man in black" for company, so the others retired 
and arose to meet, at an early breakfast, the sleepy watchers, who 
shortly afterward turned into the clean, soft beds awaiting them. 

Dorris seemed more shy of Gordon than ever, and when Mrs. 
Waite left them, to superintend some household duties, not a word 
passed for some time. She was gazing at the wonderful clock 
with a thoughtful expression on her lovely face. She was attired 
in a simple morning gown of some soft material which set her most 
perfect form off to good advantage. She looked so irresistible and 
suggestive that Gordon thought he could almost excuse Robert for 
losing his head. Her clear eyes now had a far-away look. As he 
observed her more closely and noted the steady purity of expression, 
he at last conquered the false suspicion and forced it from his 
thoughts. It was impossible ! There could not be an impure thought 
in that shapely head. At last he broke the silence. 

*'A penny for you thoughts, Miss Waite." 

She started and turned her head. A blush tinged her cheek, 


making this picture of loveliness complete. She was too truthful 
to prevaricate, and replied: 

"I was wondering which one the beautiful clock is going to 
favor, you or your brother." 

"Do you care so much then?" His voice was gentle and 

She ceased rocking and looked confused. Seeing this, he did 
not press her for an answer, but said, 

"I may call you Dorris, may I not?" 

She replied by a little nod of her head. 

"Well, Dorris, why is it that you avoid me so lately? Are 
we not the same good friends?" 

Another little nod. 

"You seem unhappy, for some reason." 

No reply, but her eyes sought a block in the carpet which 
she seemed to study intently. Noting this, he marshalled his 
forces and asked a point-blank question. 

"Dorris, why are you so troubled?" 

She raised her head, and her clear eyes looked into his as she 
replied in a tone so low as to be almost unintelligible : 

"Mr. Long" 

"Call me Gordon, as you used to, won't you please?" 

"Well, Gordon, I hardly know myself. There is a feeling 
of depression upon me, a sort of foreboding of evil to come. But 
what troubles me most, I believe, is that I hold a secret not shared 
by dear mother. It is the first time in my life that I ever possessed 
a secret she did not share. But mother thinks so much of you 
and your brother that I dislike to distress her with the details 
of the scene you witnessed. I also am in doubts as to your opinion 
of me since that awful time." 

"And why do you doubt my good opinion, Dorris?" 

"I believe it is the way you have looked at me lately with 
those eyes. I imagine you think ill of me and believe me a willing 
party to that most distressing scene." 

Gordon colored. He had not given her credit for possessing 
such deep intuitive powers. 

"Ah, Gordon, I see by your face that I am right; but you 
wrong me ! Yes, indeed you do !" 

"Dorris. I did not know you were so close an observer; but 
you have expressed yourself so frankly I will be candid in return 
and admit that a faint suspicion did steal into my mind, but I 
assure you, Dorris, I have conquered it; for your sweet, truthful 
face drove it away, and I despise myself for entertaining the 
thought for a moment. I heartily apologize." 

With one knee on the ottoman at her tiny feet he beseeched 
her to forgive him. She grew more confused and started to rise, 
but he grasped her hand and detained her. 

"Do not leave me this way, Dorris. Tell me you forgive me. 
I know I do not deserve it. I beg of you to be kind and have 


"Ah, well, Gordon, I am satisfied that in your heart you 
meant no wrong, therefore, I freely forgive you." 

He raised her hand to his lips and thanked her. 

"The indulgence you have shown me, Dorris, is more than I 
deserve, more than I have a right to expect; but, Dorris, if you 
knew all, you could see an excuse for even that." 

As his lips touched her fair flesh, she grew more restless 
and again started to rise, but again he gently detained her. 

"Dorris, let me tell you all that you should know. Will you 

She knew her voice would betray agitation if she spoke, so 
she again nodded her consent. 

"Do not be surprised or shocked at what I say, but, Dorris, 
I love you, as no one ever can, I am sure, for I know it is a pure, 
holy love. My brother believed that he loved you in the same 
spirit, but I was afraid not. We have known each others secret 
for some time. There was a compact made between us. A com- 
pact that neither one was to breathe our love to you until it was 
settled who was to be heir. The heir to the estates was to be 
the one who would have a right to lay his love at your feet." 

"And the other the one who would be left poor what of 

Her voice was troubled, she was interested. 

"Why, he why yes, he, you know " His head whirled and 
he became confused as he all at once realized what it would be if 
he had to give up all hope of winning her love, to go away and 
never see her face. The awful possibility came to him in all its 
force. He faltered and looked at her with appealing eyes. "God 
help me, Dorris ! He would, in honor bound, be obliged to go forth 
a wretched man for life! Yes, Dorris, to a life of misery, for 
it would be nothing but a life of extreme misery if it proves to 
be I who is to breathe another air then years, with a cloud between 
us through which a rift of sunshine could never creep and the 
light of your dear eyes never reach me." 

Dorris had somewhat regained her composure and something 
of the feeling that filled Gordon's heart disturbed her, for she 
loved him dearly. To never see him again, to have him blotted 
out of her life entirely, it seemed an awful calamity, but she could 
hardly understand why this should be. Even if he were to be a 
poor man, she would love him just as much, and she had a little 
dowery of her own which they could start the world on. There 
was a sad ring in her voice as she said: 

"Gordon, you have surprised me, and I am afraid I hardly 
understand you; and I am also afraid that you still persist in 
misunderstanding my character and disposition. Gordon, do you 
suppose it would make any difference in my answer whether a 
man were rich or poor? Ah, my friend, Gordon, you do me_ an 
injustice! If I loved a man, it would matter little whether he be 
a prince with millions or the poorest of the many poor people of 
this great city. No, no, Gordon, even if one had health, strength 


and beauty with his millions and the other were a confirmed invalid, 
with nothing but his broken-down body, which holds the soul within, 
it would make no difference in my answer, if I loved him." 

Gordon was pleased and surprised to hear such beautiful words 
of sentiment. It showed a depth of feeling and thought he had 
given few the credit of possessing. 

"Dorris, your words show the spirit of a true woman. I know 
that you are" everything that is noble, true and good. Your sup- 
position that this would be the reason why the unfortunate one 
would not have a right to lay his love at your feet, is only 
natural, but that is not the reason. I only wish it were. I said 
I would tell you all. I spoke in haste, without thinking. It is 
impossible to tell you all. If I could, you would readily under- 
stand why it is one of us would have to be banished from the light 
of your eyes, never to look upon your face again, unless it were 
from afar, as one would gaze up at a star in the beautiful heavens." 

"Gordon, you speak so strangely. I cannot understand it at 
all and I am still afraid that you are only trying to be generous 
by not offering me a poor man's lot. Why have you told me this?" 

"Why have I told you this? Because I love you too well to 
keep more of the truth from you than it is possible to divulge 
since my poor brother broke our pledge in the way he did." 

She meditated, while her hand still rested in his warm clasp. 

"Gordon, you say you love me?" 

'Yes, I do love you, child, and it is with all my heart. It is 
a love born never to die, and to call you by the dear name ot 
wife, darling, is the ambition of my life, and it will be one of the 
happiest moments of my life if the time comes when I shall have 
the right to lay my love at your feet." 

"Have you not the right to speak of love to me if I choose to 
listen whether you be a poor man or a rich man?" 

"Dorris, if the clock ticks me off a beggar, I have no right 
to speak with you even as a friend. And, God help me, I would 
never enter your saintly presence !" 

"Then, Gorden, I pray you to take my answer now. It may 
not be exactly what your English ladies do, but I am an American 
girl, and I believe it is my duty to lay all reserve aside and to 
tell you, mv noble Gordon, that I love you with my whole heart." 

"Ah, child, you love me! It is Heaven itself to hear you say 
so, but, sweet Dorris, my darling, you must not give me an answer, 
not yet I have no right until until " 

"Until now, Gordon, now is the time and the only time 
unless you proved to be a poor man, for if you become the heir, 
I could not listen to you then. No, let me go on. I love you, 
Gordon, and am willing to be your wife if you wish, even to-mor- 
row, before it is known whether or not you are rich or poor." 

"No, child, I cannot allow you to sacrifice yourself." 

"But Gordon, I insist. My answer must be taken before the 
clock ticks off the secret, or never, unless it leaves you poor. 1 


have a small dowery of my own. It is not much, but enough to 
live on." 

This nobility of heart almost overcame him. They were stand- 
ing now, and he took her lovely face between his two hands and 
looked into those honest brown eyes, so clear and earnest. He saw 
there all that would make a man happy. He pressed a tender kiss 
on her soft cheek. Of a sudden the thought came to her that 
she had acted unwomanly by thus offering herself to Gordon, and 
her head bowed itself until it touched his broad shoulder; but he 
understood the true sentiment that had actuated her regarding this. 
A tear trembled for a moment on the eyelash of this great-hearted 
man and fell on the strand of hair his lips had pressed. 


They were not alone. A figure in the doorway with clinching 
hands and spreading fingers, as if they were aching to destroy life, 
now advanced into the room, the footfalls being dead_ened by the 
thick carpet. It was Robert, who, having dozed some during the night 
on the comfortable lounge, was fully refreshed by a two hours' 
nap after breakfast. He could see enough to satisfy himself that 
the only hope left to win her now was in his becoming the heir, 
for then Gordon, with his fine principles, would be out of the 
field. He stopped a pace behind them. There wss murder in his 
eyes as he looked upon these true hearts. His hands spread like 
a pair of claws. He half extended them as if to encircle the neck 
of hi3 brother and crush his life out ; but they drooped at his side, 
only to finger longingly and caressingly the pistol he carried, as 
if there was an itching to use it and wipe this obstacle from his 
path. But with an effort he regained himself and in a composed 
voice broke the silence. 

"Ah, a very pretty picture." 

They both started and turned in the direction of that voice 
which rang in their ears like a stiletto striking a heart of stone. 
Robert's face was a mask to Dorris who could not read it, but 
the old feeling of fear came over her as she gazed at him with 
startled eyes. There was a foreboding of the evil to come. 

"Exucse me for intruding and snoiling such a pretty picture. 
Oh, you need not look so frightened, Miss Waite, I am not jealous. 
Oh, no, not at all, I can assure you, for you know turn about is 
fair play. 5 ' 

"Robert, why are you so bitter? What do you mean?" Gordon 
had replied for her. "What do you mean bv 'turn about/?" 

A diabolical smile lit up his face. "Why, my meaning is clear 
enough, I should think, if you take into consideration the little 
scene you so ungenerously interrupted in the summer house, and 
this scene here, which I am truly sorry for interrupting before 
it got really good, you know. As I said before, 'turn about is 
fair play.' Next time it will be my turn to share the lady's favors." 


The, tone in which these words were uttered and the meaning 
which accompanied them, caused the girl's heart to smother and 
Gordon's manhood to assert itself. Drawing himself up, he said 
in a Ft~rn voice: 

"Robert, I shall have to ask you to use different language, 
accompanied by a different tone of voice when you address Miss 
Waite after this." 

"You _ have not heard Miss Waite object to my language or 
conduct either, have you?" 

"No, but she does object, and I will have to ask you to, be 
more careful in the future." 

"Well, as to that, I cannot promise anything to you as her 
self-appointed champion. To her, of course, I could deny nothing. 
I do not say much as a general rule, but what I do say I generally 
mean. I can afford to be generous now, for it will be my turn 
next. Turn about is fair play, but the one that gets the last turn, 
my Christian brother, is generally the one that has the best of it. 
Remember, it is my turn next. Is my meaning plain enough?" 

"Yes, only too plain; but you are mistaken or certainly jesting;" 

"A 'jester' generally wears a fool's cap with bells, that jingle 
as he laughs at his own poor jokes. Do you hear me laugh? No. 
Do you hear any bells jingle? No," replied Robert. 

"No, but if you wish to come later on to our wedding, you 
may hear bells, for I am to be married to the belle of Sunnyside 
if " Here Gordon hesitated. 

"If what?" 

"Oh, I had forgotten." 

"Ah, ha! Got stuck at the 'if/ did you? It is a very small 
word, but it has stopped the carrying out of mightier plans than 
yours. It is a word you ought to think of often, it is a word you 
ought to get framed and hung between you and the 'belle of Sunny- 
side,' anyway. I will see that the little innocent word 'if stays 
between you, making a barrier so high you will not wish to climb 
it. You do not hear any bells jingling do you?" 

"No, but, my poor brother, your language and actions have 
opened wonders to my gaze and I see all." 

"See all? Oh, no, my dear brother, not all, for if you did see 
all that is contained here" (he struck his breast, then thrust his 
hand out as though pointing to the future) "and all that is before 
you, your eyes would freeze in your head, your jaw drop on your 
chest, under which would be a heart turned to stone. Do you 
understand my meaning? You don't? Well, when it does dawn 
upon you it will be like an avalanche burying you beneath. My 
meaning will manifest itself in time." 

He looked around to assure himself that Dorris was gone, and 
then leaning towards his brother hissed: 

"The girl shall be mine, marriage or no marriage. Your life, 
remember, belongs to me, also. I gave it to you at a time when I 
had a right to take it, so it is mine to make as miserable as I 
wish, and mine to take back again as I choose. But I am going 


to play this game out with you, I know my cards from 'soda to 
hock.' " 

"Robert, your talk is crazy !" 

"Rather too 'conslosterous' for your 'conslosterbility.' Can't 
you 'twig' the gab? You asked me to use different language. I 
have tried to, but it seems too copious for your diminutive compre- 
hension. Do you hear any bells? You don't? Well, I am going 
to take a stroll in the air and see if I can get up an appetite for 
dinner. M<rs. Waite has an excellent cook. I hope my soothing 
words have given you a good appetite. I would ask you to join me, 
but I'm afraid that two such sinners as we would poison the gentle 
ozone; but if you hear any bells jingling, you will know I'm enjoy- 
ing one of my own 'Joe Millers.' " 

With a hard laugh that froze Gordon's blood he passed out. 


Gordon dropped into the nearest chair, all perspiration, and sat 
in gloomy meditation. He was only aroused when Dorris, a short 
time later, came softly in and laid her hand on his bowed head. 
He looked up and forced a smile as he took the little hand of the 
gentle girl and said: 

"Dorris, you would comfort me and share my sorrows already. 
You are indeed a noble girl, and as such, dear one, I ask you to try 
and forgive my brother for his rough speech and actions." 

"For your sake, Gordon dear, I would do anything. Why does 
he act and talk so strangely? I fail to understand him." 

"No more can I, dear one. Now do not worry your pretty 
little head, but let us cheer each other up with a little music. I 
see Mr. Burns is up and strolling about with him." 

So they endeavored to shake off the unpleasant feelings of com- 
ing evil which disturbed both. 

At 12 : 00 o'clock all assembled and after watching the clock 
as it struck the hour, retired to the dining-room. Robert was polite 
to all. He even entertained them with stories well told, and the 
meal passed very pleasantly in spite of the undercurrent of feeling 
in the breasts of some. Returning to the parlor just as the clock 
began to strike, they all gathered around it as they did at all times 
while the 'striking of the hour,' during the day, but the event- 
ful hour came not. The evening was passed much the same as the 
previous one. The following day, Dorris, after a restless night, 
climbed into her mother's lap as she used to do when she was a 
little girl, and there on her breast, with her arms around the dear 
lady's neck, sobbed out all her troubles. But when she had fin- 
ished and glanced up into her face, wondering why she had not as 
yet spoken, she was frightened at the deathly look she saw there. 

"Mother dear, I am sorry to have pained you, but I could not 
keep my secrets from you any longer." 

Her mother's face showed distress and horror of some future 


possibility as she pressed a kiss on her daughter's brow to reas- 
sure her. 

"My little girl, are you sure that you love him as you should 
love an intended husband? Is there a chance that you could learn 
to love the other as well?" 

Dorris shuddered. The old feeling of dread came back to her. 

"No, mother, I like Robert as a brother only." 

Her mother started. "I know my own mind, dear mother, and 
I am sure I love Gordon dearly, and my life would be, oh, so mis- 
erable without him ! Why do you look so scared and white, mother 
dear? Is it wrong to love him? Is he not all that is good and 

"Yes, he is a noble man, and well worthy of you, dear, but I 
am not sure that you have a right to love him." 

"Why not? Is he engaged to another?" 

"No, no, dear, his heart is free. He requested of me the priv- 
ilege of suing for your hand long ago, providing he became the 
heir. And Dorris, my child, pray to the good Lord, as you have 
never prayed before, that he may be the heir; for if it proves any 
other way your life as well as his will be ruined. You and he could 
never marry. So retire to your room, dear child, and pray that 
Gordon may be his father's heir. I will do likewise. I believe a 
great deal in prayers. They have helped your poor mother over 
many rough places along the" uneven path of life these many years." 

"Darling mother, I am surprised and grieved to find that you 
are so avaricious as to wish me to pray for a wealthy husband. 
From this time on, mother, I can not listen to you or obey you as 
of yore, except in this instance, and then I can only obey you in part. 
You wish me to retire to my chamber and pray." She arose. "I 
go, and pray I will, fervently too, but not that my intended husband 
may be a rich man, instead, my poor mother, I will pray for you." 

"For me, you say, child?" 

"Yes, for you, mother, for I still love you and always will. I 
shall pray that God may cleanse your poor heart from such penu- 
rious ideas." 

"My God ! This is too hard ! My own daughter doubts me ! 
You do me a great injustice in believing that my motives are mer- 
cenary. Indeed, daughter, you know net how greatly you wrong 
me. Oh, if you knew all ! Child, there are other reasons." 

"Then, mother dear, tell me of them." 

"You do not know what you ask, child. What you ask is 
utterly impossible. Wait until after the clock gives up its secret. 
You may be hapoy yet. He mav be the heir, and unless he is the 
heir we must be left miserable for all time with blasted love in your 
heart and deadly remorse in mine. Yes, dear child, it must be even 
so, unless he proves to be the heir, in which case you can marry 
and be happy ever after, for he will make a noble and generous 

Dorris still persisted in misunderstanding her mother, which 
yas only natural under the circumstances and replied: 


"By 'generous' you mean, I suppose, that he would shower 
wealth upon me?" 

A pained expression crossed her mother's face. 

"Oh, no, believe me, dear, that is not the reason." 

Dorris backed away and looked at her mother's troubled face 
with eyes of suspicion and mistrust for the first time in her life. 

"I am going now, mother, to my chamber where I will pray 
long and earnestly for you, that God may remedy this change in 
your heart." 

"My child, you still doubt my motives. Ah, Dorris, do not 
pass judgment on me yet. Wait, he may be the one. I almost 
believe he will, and then " 

"My answer, mother, has been given. We will be married, 
though he be poor or rich. It is all the same to me, and the only 
cloud on my life will be in the future when I remember this hour 
which has forced me to believe that my own dear mother, whom I 
love so dearly, has a sordid spot in her heart." 

She turned and pressed a kiss on her mother's horrified face, 
and glided out. The mother arose and stretched out her arms in 
the direction of her retreating form with a cry on her lips that 
spoke of the agony within. Then she fell on her knees by the 
chair in silent prayer. 

"My punishment has come. I pray you, O Lord, to guide mat- 
ters in the right way, that I may be blessed in the love of two sons, 
and bring back to me the love of my daughter, to secure her hap- 

It was a strange prayer offered up in such earnestness and 
good faith. Gordon entered. He waited with bowed head until 
she arose to her feet. Seeing the pain in her face, he said : 

"Madam, I see that you are deeply troubled regarding some- 
thing. Is it about what I came to tell you, I wonder?" 

"I believe it is, Gordon. Dorris has told me that you have 
both discovered and disclosed your love for each other. I am going 
to my room now to lie down for a while. I hope that you will 
excuse me." 

"Certainly, dear madam, by all means. A good sleep will be 
of great benefit to you in your present distressed state of mind." 

"When I collect my thoughts, Gordon, I would like to talk 
with you." 

"Madam, I already know what you would say, so do not dis- 
tress yourself further. I understand what you wish, and your 
wishes regarding the matter shall be considered." 

Somewhat assured and comforted, she retired. Gordon joined 
the others in the parlor, to wait and wait on. The suspense was 
telling on him. He threw himself into a rocker and intently 
watched Robert playing chess in the alcove with the lawyer, who 
was _ emitting a dreary whistle from his lips as he alternately 
studied and moved his men about. They played on and on, only 
glancing up as the clock began to strike. Even then the "man in 
black" did not discontinue the soothing, but dreary and monotonous 


strains. At last Gordon dozed until dinner was announced. At 
the table they were all that good breeding required. Light sub- 
jects were the order while their secret troubles and forebodings 
were buried in their hearts for the time being. Here was another 
thing that the London lawyer was obliged to admit to himself, 
regarding American hospitality, while at the table pleasant sub- 
jects accompanied by pleasant faces reigned supreme. He had also 
dropped many of the affected airs which characterized him on his 
arrival. He had met with so many matter-of-fact people that he 
found it policy. 

The table was neatness itself and was loaded down with all 
the delicacies of the early season. The glasses were French cut, 
the china of the finest, while the flat and hollow ware was of solid 
silver, in keeping with the other elegant furnishings of this model 
American home. Everything, in fact, denoted refinement and taste. 
The lawyer greatly wondered ; for this unpretentious cottage, off 
by itself in nature's haunts, was, he reluctantly admitted to him- 
self, furnished more richly and tastefully than many palaces pre- 
sided over by the lord and the lady in his own city of London. 
Course after course was served by the cook who was maid-of-all- 
work as well, for they only employed one servant besides the man 
who took care of the grounds and stable. He was the head gar- 
dener, stable-boy and coachman, all in one. They were both good, 
faithful servants, having been in the family some time. 

Soon a large, cld-fasioned pumpkin pie was served, hot and 
steaming. While discussing this, the lawyer recalled his boyhood 
days and a mill pond near his father's place. It put him in mind 
of a great pumpkin pie. and he said that he often wished it were so 
he could get right in the middle of it and eat his way out. The 
laugh which followed was interrupted by the chimes of the clock as 
its clear tones reached their ears. They all arose with one accord, 
excuses not being . necessary, for the table alone with the remains 
of a good old American meal was all that was left in the circle of 
vacated chairs. Robert, for once, seemed as eager as the rest for 
he was speculating on the one faint chance left him. His mind 
had undergone a slight change, and for a moment experienced real 
home life again with these good souls gathered around. Yes, he 
could be a different man, so he thought, if Dorris could preside 
ever a home like this for him. It goes to show the power of a beau- 
tiful woman and home life. A good home presided over by a good 
woman has been the means of snatching many a burning brand 
from the fire. 


The company had reached the parlor and were all gathered 
around the clock in a half circle. Before the beautiful chimes had 
ceased to give way to the deep toned little bell that was the signal 
for them to look with all their eyes for the appearance of the little 
puppets that were to take their hourly promenade to the cathedral, 


by intuition, they felt the fatal hour was at hand. All was con- 
fusion for a moment, then every voice was stilled. Only the sup- 
pressed breathing of the watchers and the deep notes of the little 
bell accomoanied by the tick-tock of the clock itself could be heard 
as the faithful figures appeared at the doorway and began to move, 
only to stop one-third of the way on their hourly journey to the 
miniature cathedral. The watchers fairly held their breath as they 
waited. Mrs. Waite was holdirg the magnifying glass in her trem- 
bling hand, and was gazing through it with eyes distended, while 
her face was the color of chalk. Her lips moved in a whispered 
prayer. The two brothers stood erect and firm, with tightly com- 
pressed lips, like men who were well prepared to meet their fate. 
Dorris was watching her mother with a puzzled expression, while 
the lawyer watched everything with keen satisfaction, dividing his 
attention alternately between the puppets and the figures of real 
life. It was a moment of intense interest to all. Even the lawyer 
failed to adjust his glasses. The snowy napkin was still tucked 
under his left ear and he was rubbing his hand through his scanty 
hair. At last he, as well as the rest, could not help but notice 
Mrs. Waite's extreme agitation. But now the bell had ceased and 
the puppets held every eye. All pressed nearer. They hardly 
expected the little bell to cease until the day of the month was 
chronicled as usual ; neither had they expected to see the little fig- 
ures halt at this spot, as the lawyer had assured them they were 
to stop exactly in front of the gold dial. A minute was registered 
by the silver hand, still the figures stood motionless. In an awed 
whisper Mrs. Waite asked a question of the lawyer at her side, a 
question which he was unable to answer, seemingly, and merely 
shook his head. The interest was now so intense that they did not 
hear the two servants enter the room, which they did and stood 
near the door in respectful attitude. Dr. Warder, the family physi- 
cian, who was passing, dropped in to request Dorris to visit one of 
his patients in the way of charity, as she often did when they were 
in distress and needy, earning for herself the name of "Lady Boun- 
tiful," a title that suited her well for she was as good at heart as 
she was beautiful. The servant announced him, but in spite of the 
respect he was held in, not an eye turned from the spot that held 
their attention. They were like persons in a trance. Dorris told 
the kindly doctor to draw near as he was just in time to witness 
a wonderful event. She spoke in a low, hushed tone, like one in 
the chamber death had made sacred. Having met the gentlemen 
present, he readily joined the circle and watched with the others 
with interest, too, for he had heard from Dorris (as far as she 
knew) the history of the wonderful clock he had noticed on a pre- 
vious visit. Mrs. Waite was growing more and more agitated as 
the minutes passed, bringing with them no further ^movements of 
the little figures. Onlv five minutes passed, still it seemed like 
hours. Her trembling hand refused to hold the glass. She relin- 
quished it to the "man in bbck" who peered through it with puzzled 
and apprehensive expression, for he was much afraid the' clock 


would at last fail to perform the offices he expected of it, giving out 
at the last minute like a good horse in the "stretch," failing to 
reach the stake by a nose. The tick-tock was all that could be 
heard. Gordon was about to answer a whispered question from the 
interested and genial doctor when there was a sound like that 
caused by the winding of a watch. This stopped at intervals and 
then was repeated. Gordon, in a whisper, asked the doctor his 
opinion of this. 

" "Well, I should judge there was a little storage battery at 
work upon the inside." 

The lawyer caught the reply as low as it was uttered. 

"Ah, that is it exactly, there is a battery within. I , but no, 
that could not be, for it has been three years since " The rest of 
his sentence was lost to their ears, for the miniature figures began 
to tremble and slowly move forward while the most peculiar music 
ever heard flooded their ears. It was low and impressive, like you 
will hear sometimes at the opera when the life and death scene 
require it. This was joined by the sweet tones of the bell and 
chimes at short intervals. The figures now moved so slowly that it 
required the use of the glass to satisfy the eager watchers that 
they were really moving at all. There was something in all this so 
impressive that. Dorris shuddered and that feeling of dread came 
back to her, a feeling that she could not explain, but seemed like a 
presentiment or a foreboding of evil. 

Mrs. Waite was biting her lips (a habit she had when excited 
or troubled) while she suooorted her agitated form with one hand 
resting on the polished table. The experienced eye of the doctor 
convinced him that her nerves were on tension. A longer strain 
might snap the thread that held life, like a too tightly tuned up 
violin string, the only difference being that one could be restored, 
the other could not. He was concerned and glad that he hap- 
pened to drop JIT as he did, for his services would certainly be 
needed if this scene were prolonged. He watched her closely, won- 
dering why she was so much more agitated than the others, but 
could not fathom it, nor could the rest of the spectators. She was 
seen to press her hand to her brow, damp from a cold perspiration 
that had begun to gather, as the figures slowly but surely drew 
nearer and nearer to the spot the lawyer had designated as the last 
halting place for one of them. They were slowly nearing the cen- 
ter. She seemed oblivious to her surroundings ; for, as the figures 
at last reached a spot in front of the gold dial where they again 
halted, she pressed both hands to her throbbing head and sank to 
her knees, crumpling the rich robe she wore for this wonderful 

"Oh, merciful Creator, punish not the children for their par- 
ents' sin !" 

Gordon thought she meant his father's sin. Some of the oth- 
ers thought the cause of her words and excitement was due to the 
unjust will, making one a rich man, while the other it would leave 
a pauper. Dorris, kneeling beside her, brushed the damp from her 


brow and smoothed her hair gently while she tried to comfort her, 
although she thought her agitation was from a mercenary cause. 

"Watch them, daughter, and tell me which one. I can look no 

She dropped her face in her hands while Dorris arose and 
watched with the others who were cognizant of this pathetic scene 
without fully seeing it, for their eyes were still glued upon the two 
figures outlined against the gold dial. 

Another figure in real life had joined those at the door. It 
was Jarl, who had been waiting outside for his master. It was a 
striking tableau that met his gaze. Every face wore an expression 
of awe and solemnity, except Robert's. Who could read that won- 
derful face? None could in its present state. But if one had noted 
him closely a moment later as he watched the closing of this 
strange tableau, one would have seen the demon leap into it and 
his hands clinch around the twisted napkin he unconsciously held. 

The chimes and bell had ceased, the slow and affecting music 
alone continuing. The hour hand now suddenly swung around in 
a half circle, and as it returned into position, seemingly with greater 
force, a gong-like sound vibrated upon the air. As if this were a 
signal, one of the figures disappeared and the music ceased. Even 
the tick-tock of the clock was heard no more. Mrs. Waite raised 
her head and looked at the others, who in turn were still staring 
at the clock. Stillness now reigned. Not a sound broke it until 
Mrs. Waite, who could bear the suspense no longer, in an agitated 
whisper said: 

''Dorris, child, tell me, tell your mother, is it over? Did I 
not hear something drop with a kind of dull thud like hope through 
space to doom? Answer me, child, is it over? I dare not look. 
Tell your mother the truth. Is it? Ah, it is, child. I read it in 
your face. Tell me, quick, dear. Which one is the heir?" 

Dorris, thus appealed to. first glanced at the two brothers with 
an apologetic look, then stooping, the sweet lips whispered softly: 

"Yes, mother, it is over. We do not know as yet which one it 
is, but " (sinking her voice still lower, so that her mother alone 
caught the words) "I think it is Gordon." 

The face of the kneeling figure lighted. 

"Look, look, child and see! No, let me look. I am stronger, 
now. With this hope in my heart I can hear it." 

She arose and joined the others who had recovered from the 
trance-like state they had fallen into watching this strange phe- 
nomenon, and had crowded still closer. Even Jarl and the servants 
had taken courage and advanced into the room. 


The lawyer, with a large legal paper in one hand and a mag- 
nifying glass in the other, was bending forward to examine the 
remaining figure at the bride's side. He looked through the glass 
at the name he could see there, long and earnestly. He had re- 


gained his equanimity and could not help but make the most of the 
opportunity this gave him to keep their nerves strung to the high- 
est tension as long as possible. At last he raised his head and 
faced the now quite large audience present, cleared his throat, threw 
his head back until he could peer out from under the glasses he 
now adjusted for the first time and began to speak. 

"The mysterious clock, ladies and gentlemen, that required two 
years to construct, has at last given up its secret, a secret it has 
held for the past three years, and held it well." He again cleared 
his throat, then peered about in a tantalizing way, as if to say, even 
if he did trust the secret to a clock for three years, he would at 
least be the holder of it after the clock gave it up for as many min- 
utes more. Dorris had encircled her mother's shoulders with her 
snowy white arm, and was whispering comforting and hopeful 
words in her ear. 

"I am sure it is Gordon, mother dear, unless the figures were 
changed around since we looked at them the other day, and that 
could not be. See, the lawyer is about to speak ! He is going to 
inform us." 

The "man in black" again continued : 

"The will I have here in my hand is, I confess, a very unjust 
and " The lawyer was slow in his delivery, and Robert, who 
up to this time had stood near his brother, advanced and said: 

"I, for my part, do not wish to listen to a long-winded sermon, 
be it good or bad." He rudely took the glass from the astonished 
lawyer's hand, then bending forward examined the name on the 
remaining figure. With a smothered curse he shattered the glass 
on the guardian angel top-piece, then clenched his hands as though 
he would like to demolish the clock itself, but changed his mind 
and strode from the room without a word aloud, thinking as he 
cursed bitterly to himself: 

"Oh, why did .1 not do away with the infernal machine as I 
intended to ! That is what I get for being a good fellow. That 
shall be my last weakness. I played the part of a fool. I knew 
I was right all the time. Why did I take that chance? It was 
like switching the 'copper' off a good bet at 'faro.' I have lost all, 
when I could have kept them guessing the rest of their lives. Bah ! 
I thought I was a gambler. Here I- have played a card with 99 per 
cent, against me." 

His footsteps could be heard, as he strode up and down the 
veranda, by those within who had stood spell-bound at this seeming 
rudeness. But they all forgave him in their hearts, for the will 
appeared to be a very cruel and unjust one and the question that 
shone in their eyes and trembled on their lips was answered by this 
unexpected action of Robert. They all felt a great pity for him as 
the lawyer finished his remarks, read the will and said : 

"I can, for my part, freely excuse Robert, for he has been done 
a great injustice; but 'it is an ill wind that blows nobody good' 
loss to one is generally gain to another. Mr. Gordon Long, allow 
me to congratulate you, for you are the heir," 


Dorris seemed little elated at the announcement. It would 
have suited her as well if Robert had been the heir. But still she 
was pleased for her mother's sake who seemed over-joyed. They 
all crowded forward to congratulate Gordon. As soon as Mrs. 
Waite could manage it, she carried him off to her daughter who 
had taken her pet "Toots," and was bending over him in a thought- 
ful attitude. 

"Dorris, you have not congratulated Gordon, are you not 
pleased, dear?" 

Dorris arose and faced them with an unfathomable expression 
in her eyes and said : 

"Yes, dear mother, for your sake I am pleased. Anything that 
gives my mother pleasure can not help but please me." 

She extended to Gordon her little hand. He seized it and held 
it while he turned to her mother, saying : 

"My dear madam, will you now give me the right to soon call 
you 'mother ?' " 

"Yes, my dear children. God bless you both. It has lifted 
a great load from my heart, and I am happy, happier than I have 
any right to be. God is good. He is more lenient with me than I 
could expect. I am satisfied that you love one another with a love 
that will never die, and such love must bring happiness. So take 
her, Gordon, and may she bring you as much happiness as she 
has me." 

"Thank you, madam, but rest assured, you will not lose a 
daughter. Instead, you shall gain a son, a son who will always 
love and respect you. Now may I not announce our engagement 
to these good people, dear Dorris?" 

She nodded her consent, and the light of love and happiness 
shone in her eyes as they rejoined the group and announced the 
engagement. Then there were more congratulations, and the face- 
tious lawyer tried to make her believe that it was the custom in 
England to kiss the intended bride when the engagement was 
announced. But he failed for she was too well informed as to 
English customs. Being balked here, he asked if there was not 
some American custom that allowed it, claiming in the same breath 
that he would renounce old England for the privilege such a cus- 
tom would give him. This caused a laugh, which reached the ears 
of Robert, who was still promenading up and down with a gloomy 
brow and darker thoughts. He paused at the window and peered 
in at the happy group, the trailing vines hiding_his own form from 
their view. Then, with still darker thoughts in his heart, he fin- 
gered the weapon in his pocket. 

"There is no justice! Here is a good illustration of it. Gor- 
don now has everything, I nothing. He has gained wealth, friends, 
a mother, a wife. But no, shall he have her too? We shall see. 
Look at them gather around him as if he were a prince, while I 
suppose they have forgotten that I ever existed." 

He turned away and resumed his pacing to and fro, peering in 
at the window, as he passed and re-passed, with eyes of hate, pas- 


sion and revenge. The little good that remained in him had dis- 
appeared with the puppet that bore his name "as the chimes told 
the hour." 


Meantime, the happy ones on the inside were again gathered 
around the clock. The lawyer had produced a small key, fashioned 
from gold, which he inserted in a key hole he had exposed by slid- 
ing to one side a figure 2. He was some minutes winding it. Then 
he reversed the figure and two more key holes were discovered. 
He treated these likewise. Then setting it with his own timepiece, 
an old-fashioned lever which had belonged to his forefathers and 
had been handed down from generation to generation, it was soon 
once more ticking off the minutes as busily 'as ever. They could 
hear Robert's footsteps, and a great pity sprang up in their breasts, 
for he had seemed to take it so much to heart, in spite of his seem- 
ing indifference. 

Mrs. Waite called Dorris to her side and asked her if she would 
not let Gordon go to his brother to try and comfort him. 

"He has been wanting to go, dear mother, but don't you think 
someone else had better go and ask him to rejoin us here?" 

They asked the lawyer what he thought about it. He advised 
it by all means. 

"'But, Mrs. Waite, I think your daughter had better go. He 
certainly is not in a very pleasant frame of mind, and I know ha 
will listen to her when he would not to us." So Dorris started on 
her errand. The others again gathered around the clock while 
they explained to the doctor many things of interest connected with 
"It. It was certainly the wonder of the century and one of the finest 
pieces of mechanical art ever constructed. 

Dorris opened the door and peered out. The first thing she 
heard was a low curse which caused her to draw back as if unde- 
cided, but the good in her heart conquered. She advanced to meet 
him as he swung around and started back on his ceaseless march, 
a march he had become familiar with in the London prison, and lit- 
tle did this pure girl dream that while she was talking to this well- 
bred, fine-looking man she was, at the same time, holding con- 
verse with an escaped convict, and now one of the most desperate 
men ever turned loose upon the American continent ! But such 
was the case. 

"You, Dorris, and did you think of me and come to me in 
my misery?" 

"Robert, they all insisted that I come and ask you to join us 
in the parlor. We will soon have tea " 

"Never mind the tea. The taffy you are all willing to feed me 
on is sufficient," 


"Oh, Robert, why will you talk so bitterly? I am sure there 
is a place in our hearts for you." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes, Robert, certainly there is." 

As he replied he brought the full force of his mesmeric eyes 
upon her. She shivered under the gaze and grew uneasy. 

"Is there a place in your heart for me?" 

"Ye-es. You must be my dearest of brothers. I never had a 
brother. Won't vou be a good brother to me?" 

Robert replied bitterly : "Or as a brother-in-law, since you 
know which one is rich enough to be the husband. Am I not 

This unjust speech distressed her greatly. 

"No, indeed, Robert! Gordon and I both would rather you 
inherit the estates, for with our love for one another alone, we 
could be supremely happy." 

"You dp not know of what you speak. Do you think he would 
marry you if he had not been a rich man? No, he has too many 
fine notions. And as to the estates, I do not care for the loss of 
them. It is for the loss of you that I care. If I had been the heir 
in place of him you would never marry him." 

"Yes, Robert, I should, for I love him and would marry him, 
rich or poor." 

"You deceive yourself and " 

Dorris interrupted him and said, "Won't you come in? They 
are all anxiously waiting for you." 

He dragged her to the window. "Look in there ! Look ! Do 
they look as if they were all anxiously waiting for me? No! They 
think more of that infernal clock than they do of me." 

She could say nothing in reply. Indeed it appeared so. Still 
she knew better, for those were all true hearts assembled there; 
but she knew it would be useless to try to convince him of that 
fact. She walked along at his side until they had reached the 
extreme end of the long veranda. Her eyes were raised to his and 
she was pleading for him to come and join the family circle. He 
stopped and leaned against the trellis-work. He was now facing 
her again and was marshalling his forces. 

"Dorris, I would do a great deal to please you, but what in 
return would you do to please me? Nothing." 

"Oh, yes, I would," she replied. "I would do a great deal for 
anyone. But now, Robert, won't you please come in?" 

She took hold of his hand and attempted to urge him along. 
She could not bear to see him out here all alone and miserable 
while there was life and happiness within. 

"On one condition, my sweet Dorris," and he drew her nearer. 

"It is getting chilly for me, and if you will not come I must 
go in," she evaded. 

He now pulled her nearer still. She felt his breath scorch her 
cheek as he bent over her and in a low voice said : "I will go with 
you, but before I go, let me kiss that sweet mouth." 


"No, no, Robert! Let me go ! I did not think this of you, 
you knowing that I have promised my hand to your own brother." 

"My 'own' brother ? Oh, that is rich ! He has robbed me of 
everything. He is ungenerous. Why should you be ungenerous 

"I am not ungenerous, neither is he. You mistake Ah, 
Robert, allow me to go, won't you please?" 

But she appealed in vain. He had thrown his strong arm 
around her slender waist and, pressing her to him, tried to kiss 
her on the lips, but she held her beautiful sacred face in such a 
position that this was impossible. 

"Robert, please let me go ! This is wrong, I know it is." 

"No, my sweet Dorris, if my brother is so generous as you 
claim, he will certainly not begrudge me a caress from you, only a 

"Robert, I protest. If you do not release me, I shall be forced 
to scream for assistance." 

"Oh, no, you would not do that," he replied. 

"I certainly would not like to do it, but I will unless you 
desist." But he paid no heed and made one last appeal. 

"Dorris, can't you love me? You will never be loved as I love 
you. Say the word and we will fly to some little nest of our own. 
If I do not prove my words, you can come back and none will be 
the wiser." 

"Robert, you insult me. Now pray let me go, for I dislike to 
cry for help and still further humiliate you to-night." 

"Will you meet me at the summer house at this time tomorrow 

"No! Impossible!" 

"Well, in the afternoon, say at 2 o'clock?" 

She hesitated. She did not like to prevaricate,' still this fur- 
nished her a good -opportunity to escape from him now, so she 

"I shall see." 

"Will you?" he insisted. 

"I will try to," she replied. "Now let me go." 

He pressed her once more to his heart and said, "Just one kiss 
before you go. It is all I ask. It is little." 

Her voice was firm and convincing as she replied, "No, Robert, 
no ! I could never respect myself if I willingly submitted to a 
caress from one who has no right to give it." 

He released her and she quickly disappeared into the house 
and sought her chamber to re-arrange her hair before she returned 
to the parlor to inform them of her failure. She found them still 
gathered about the clock, for the bell was tolling in the steeple of 
the miniature cathedral, and the little puppets had continued their 
journey, minus one of their number. As the company later drop- 
ped into the chairs around the tea-table, there was one still vacant 
and many a sorrowful glance was cast toward it. 



Another day dawned clear and bright. The lawyer made prep- 
arations for his return to smoky London and business, with a better 
opinion of America than he had ever entertained before. 

Gordon and Dorris, relieved from the awful strain, were en- 
joying the balmy air along the wooded pathway and were making 
all kinds of plans for the future. Gordon assured her she had done 
right, and that it was not necessary to meet Robert if she did not 
wish to do so. So at 2 o'clock when the stillness that reigned in 
the cottage was broken by the chimes as they told the hour and 
started the little folk on their hourly promenade, Robert emerged 
from the summer house with passion-distorted features. Entering 
a skiff, he rapidly pulled away, meantime keeping his eyes on the 
receding bluff, but that which would have quickly reversed his 
course failed to appear. 


(Continued in Part II.) 











We next find Robert Long, formerly number "49," at the sport- 
ing headquarters of the levee. Luck proved against him here. After 
a small losing, he savagely tore up the cards and next visited a 
well-known west side gambling house, presided over by the notori- 
ous "One-armed Shimmel." The room was ablaze with lights and 
sparkling shirt-fronts. He had gained admission by mentioning 
the name of McGinns, a southside sport, and was soon making 
his way down a long room lined on either side with games of every 
description. The droning voices of the dealers seemed to repeat 
again and again the name "Dorris" in his ear. It rang in them 
as he dropped into a seat at a "faro bank" table. He could hear 
her voice in the rattle of the checks and see her face in the silver 
deal box which was fast winning from him the last thing he had 
of value. He played out deal after deal, but luck was against him 
still. He watched his money _fast fade away and disappear in the 
little drawer and the checks in the rack as the dealer won them. 
Buying checks became monotonous, besides he imagined he could 
see her face looking at him from the circle they formed, with sor- 
rowful eyes as though beseeching him to turn away from this life 
and follow another and better. So he began to change money, a 



hundred on a card, playing "cases" only. Still, this did not change 
his streak of bad luck. He at last became reckless, and addressing 
the dealer said, 

"Say, pal, 'blow' out of that for a while and let someone else 
take your place. It's a cinch I can't beat you. You are dealing 
too luckily for the house." 

"There is no one to take my place," the dealer replied; "just 
at present, anyway." 

Glancing around, Robert retorted, "What's the matter with 
that one-armed 'guy' strutting around there? Can't he deal with 
one mitt?" 

"That's the boss." 

"Well, suppose he is the boss. Can't he 'push the paste- 
boards' ?" 

"Well, I should say he can." 

"Well, call him over here. I'm just going one more bet with 
a limit, and I want a new deal and a new shuffle of the cards." 

The dealer made a motion of his head and the one-armed 
gambler approached. "This gentleman here is off loser and wants 
to 'press the limit'." 

Without another word they exchanged seats and the one-armed 
individual extracted the cards from the box, then shuffled them 
with one hand as handily as most gamblers shuffle with two. 

"What limit do you want?" he tersely inquired. 

"Well, I just want to make one bet on the first 'case' that 

"How much?" the one-armed man returned. 

"I will see." 

He searched his pockets and piled up in front of him all the 
money he had left, $1,250.50. The hangers-on and gamblers, both 
"live and dead" ones, as they were termed, began to crowd around 
expecting to see some high and long-winded plunging, but they 
were doomed to disappointment on the length of the game, for as 
the first "case," the ace of diamonds, appeared, he placed it all and 
"coppered" it. A dozen cards or more were slipped from the deal 
box by the deft fingers of the gambler, and still the ace did not 
appear. So taking a "wrong hunch," he changed the nature of the 
bet by flipping the "copper" off with his finger .and played it open. 
A few more turns breathless silence by those around. Then he 
arouse, broke. The dealer offered him a cigar. Like a man in a 
dream, he mechanically accepted and lit it, then started away but, 
as if on a second thought, turned and said: 

"Ah, excuse me, my mittless friend, I almost forgot to thank 
you for this most exellent weed." 

"Don't mention it. You will find that it has a real west-side 
flavor. Don't forget the number. You will find the boys of the 
West Side 'hot taters'. Give you any limit at any game you play." 

Robert's blood boiled as he retorted, "Thank you, I may drop 
over once in a while and make it more interesting. I only had a 
little shaving money with me to-day." 



With this parting -bluff, in response to the one-armed gambler's 
sally, he passed out and down the wire interwoven steps. He did 
not let a vestige of the rage within him appear on the surface 
while there was a gambler to watch him, but as he found himself 
in the street wandering about (he did not know or care where), a 
close observer might have seen something in that face which would 
cause a creepy feeling to chase along his spinal column. His 
mouth was so firmly set that the corners of it twitched and his 
teeth grated as he walked on and on without looking to the right 
or left, sometimes mechanically and unconsciously turning a corner 
just as the press of pedestrians would guide him. A little dog that 
was following a "drug store blonde" happened to dart in his way. 
He gave it a savage kick which tangled it up in the spokes of a 
passing hansom. The blonde screamed, the dog howled as it spun 
around in the air, and the cabman swore. But he hardly heard 
them as he proceeded on his way. He was too busy with his own 
thoughts which shaped themselves to believe he had a grievance 
against the whole world. There was only one hope left him, that 
was when he thought of Dorris, when her face came before him, 
as it did constantly, always with those tender, beseeching and re- 
proachful eyes as he had last seen them upon the vine-clad ver- 
anda. Desperate resolves formed themselves one after another 
resolves to possess her by fair means or foul and at the same 
time eke out his revenge on Gordon. But he could carry out no 
plan successfully, so he thought to himself, without money. Money 
he must have, and get it he would, no matter how. 

"Well, that one-armed sport has got what the shoemaker threw 
at his wife the last and he is welcome to it, but I don't like his 
way. He kind of tried to throw a hot shot into me, but I guess he 
got as good as he gave. So they are 'hot taters' over here, are 
they? Well, I may make it hotter for them sometime. I will show 
them what a real dead game sport is. I will not quit loser on the 
West Side. I will play even but how? Curse the luck, why 
djdn't I keep that last thousand for a bank roll. Ah, Dorris, ^ou 
little know how much I love you. I would sacrifice a dozen lives, 
the same as I did the one in London, for your sake. Bah ! Why 
can't I get her out of my mind for a moment? I wonder where 
I am, anyway. Curse it, I can't see the names on the street lamps 
for I see her face there instead. I am crazy, yes, quite crazy. I 
am tough, but I can become worse. Where in the h " He 
had at last halted on a busy corner. Cars were passing and 
repassing. On one of them he saw figures which danced before 
his eyes. It was some time before he could determine the fact of 
its being a 12th street car. 

"Guess I might as well 'cop' that 'rattler;' it will take me over 
the bridge as far as Wabash." 

He ran and caught it just in time. The car was filled mostly 
with ladies. He fell into a vacant seat in such deep meditation that 
it was some time before he was aware the conductor was standing 
before him waiting patiently for his fare with outstretched hand. 


He dove into his pocket, and then it dawned upon him that he did 
not have even carfare. The ladies were all looking at him with 
interest, and a couple of girlish gum-chewers giggled as he with- 
drew his hand empty. He looked at the conductor blankly, arose 
and dropped off into the street. So it happened that the want of 
five cents, which would have allowed him to continue his ride 
across the long 12th street bridge, was the indirect cause of 
launching upon the "wicked city" what is known as the "long and 
short bandits," who became feared and famous throughout the 
length and breadth of the land on account of their many 'daring 
deeds, deeds unequaled in modern or ancient times. They have 
figured as real characters in fiction as well as in modern history. 

For the benefit of the readers, who are not familiar with this 
great city, we will mention the fact of a deep river which cuts 
through the business center, dividing it into three sections. That 
part north of the lower terminus is called the "North Side ;" while 
that section south and east of it (bordered on one side by the great 
lake) is known as the "South Side" and all that portion west of 
it is termed the "West Side," where we will now follow the move- 
ments of Robert Long, the escaped convict known as number "49," 
who is, without premeditation, about to take the first step that 
eventually wins for him the feared and widely known name of the 
"long man," a name that to-day strikes terror to the citizen or 
stranger who hears it spoken of in connection with another, the 
"short man," who so prominently figured in Chicago's carnival of 
crime horrors which will live clearly in the minds of the merchants, 
the main sufferers, forever. 


Robert, with quick, energetic strides, had covered about half 
the distance to the 12th street bridge when he began to feel the 
pangs of hunger. His mind was so taken up again with other 
matters that he once more forgot for a moment his financial condi- 
tion. In an absentminded and preoccupied way he turned into a 
cafe, dropped into a seat and began to look over the sporting 
column of the evening paper, while he waited for someone to take 
his order. His eyes traveled over the head-lines, reading them, 
but hardly comprehending their meaning, until at last, just as the 
waiter appeared at his elbow, he noted the heading in large letters, 
"Broke the Record." "Broke," and then it flashed across his mind 
that he was broke. The suggestive head-lines had put him forcibly 
in mind to the fact again. He almost knocked the astonished 
waiter from his feet as he swung around and hurriedly made his 
way into the street. It was still a mile to the bridge. The shades 
of night were drawing around as his foot struck the first plank of 
that long structure. As he swung along, he could look down upon 
many streets and even the roofs of buildings, in many places lay 
beneath him, while others shot up and cut the sky with their 
sentinel-like chimneys. He stopped, and leaning on the rail looked 


off to the north where the great Masonic Temple loomed up many 
feet above the other sky-scrapers clustered around it. On top of 
this was a large roof garden, or what is known as an open air 
theater, patronized mostly by the elite of Chicago. It was well he 
could not distinguish those who were entering below. For there, 
mingling with the great throng of playgoers, were the two people 
who were uppermost in his bitter thoughts Dorris and Gordon. 
They, like Robert, had stopped in their walk on the promenade and 
were now leaning on the rail looking off and down as happy as 
happy could be, while the silent figure alone on the bridge, miserable 
and alone looked off and up with a cold, glittering eye that failed 
to see aught to please or of hope. No, his was a wasted life. He 
felt it, in fact his natural cleverness set this before him too vividly. 

He was standing now on a section of the bridge directly over 
the Chicago _ river. He looked down at it and wondered if he 
should drop in, what he would look like after being churned around 
and ground into the mud and filth by the lake craft that ply up and 

"I would be full of filth, bloated, bruised and probably dis- 
figured beyond recognition. In a week or so some vessel would 
stir me up to the surface. Then I would have a ride in the dead 
wagon, then I would be laid on a slab at the morgue, then an- 
other long ride my last. And my handsome brother would be 
enjoying the happy hours, days and years, with the only thing on 
earth I love, the only thing that holds life dear to me, Dorris, the 
sweetest, the purest of all mortals. Oh, why was I so hasty, so 
rash? Why did she resist me? But on a second thought I loved 
her more for it. and she won my respect for it. Oh, what a life 
it would be with her always at my side! As long as there is life, 
they say, there is hope. I have a chance while I live, but a dead 
lover is beaten to start with. Well, I will finish out this 'sprint' 
that west-side sport has started me on, and at the end of it, 
what then?" 


Glancing in both directions and seeing no one, he turned to 
resume his journey, bitter and sullen. He struck his foot on a 
projecting plank. The strain snapped a shoe-string. 

"Curse the luck! What next?" he growled. "I will, have a 
good appetite I guess when I do get there." 

Resting his foot on a timber, he stooped over and commenced 
to repRir the damage, when he heard a harsh voice say: 

"Hold up yer mitts and give us yer coin." 

Robert was in a mood that caused him to care little what be- 
fell him, so without even changing his position, he turned his 
head. As he did so his nose struck something cold and hard, and 
his eye looked down the muzzle of a forty-four blue magazine re- 


"Can't you see that my mitts, as you called them, are busy, you 
duffer?" he replied and coolly turned his attention to his shoe. 
The burly footpad was so taken back at this cool refusal to comply 
with his command that for a moment he was dazed. Then he broke 
out with his fiercest oaths which sounded somewhat familiar to 
Robert, and would in themselves intimidate a more timid man. 

"Up wid dem mitts, I say, or I'll mix dat putty hair up wid 
yer brains." 

But this new command only brought a cold smile to the lips 
of the other who replied, as he finished tying an artistic bowknot 
at his shoe-top, 

"You seem inclined to be somewhat witty. You have missed 
your calling. You ought to 4iave been a reporter on the Daily 

The footpad gasped. 

"Well, yuse be a cool un, but dat's wat I gits fur holdin ye 
up like a gentleman. I could'r hit ye a crack over de head and 
pttt yer to sleep, an I will too if yer don't pay a little 'tendon t' 
me. "See?" 

Robert smiled. 

"If you do, I surely will pay a little attention to you. I will 
just take that cannon away and dump you into the river." 

"I wouldn't if I wus you. I might pispn de fish." 

"Well, you are making quite a reputation with me as a wit." 

The thug grew furious and growled out: "Well, by h , if 
yer don't shell out pretty quick, I'll fix yuse up so yer own brother 
wouldn't recognize ye." 

"He don't recognize me as it is, so that don't bother me." 

Hie had finished the bow to his satisfaction and straightening 
up, leaned against the rail with his hands thrust deep into his 
pockets. Assuming a kind of easy attitude, he lazily continued, 

t "Say, my friend, tell me what you want. I am ready to do 
business now." 

"Ye know wat I want," the footpad roared, "I wants yer coin, 
and I wants it d quick, too." 

"Will you have it now or will you wait till you get it?" was 
the tantalizing and cool reply which still more exasperated the 
thug who stuttered a moment, but the only thing he could say was, 

"My friend, why do you speak of your home at such a mo- 
ment as this?" 

"Home? Home? I'll make h - yer home, and send ye dare 
wid yer boots on if yer don't stow yer gab and cough up wat coin 
yer got in yer clos." 

Robert was in a kind of reckless, don't-care spirit, which 
caused him to care little if -the footpad did carry out his threat. 
In fact, he would welcome a "scrimmage," even though it would 
result disasterously for him. There is a time in most every per- 
son's life when, through circumstances over which he has no con- 
trol, he finds himself in a frame of mind akin to this reckless feel- 


ing in Robert. He had made up his mind to parley as long as 
he could and meanwhile watch his opportunity to best the thug or 
be bested in turn. There was something about this fellow that 
seemed familiar, but he failed to place him. 

"What do you want with money?" asked Robert. (i lt would 
melt where you are going." 


"Yes, you." 

"Well, I'll jes send ye on ahead," and his finger twitched on 
the trigger as he spoke. 

"If you do," Robert coolly replied, "I will take you along with 
me and give you a 'knock-down' to the devil." 

"De devil ye will !" 

"Well, that is what I said, and I was standing right here 
when I said it, too." 

"Well, yer'll be layin down somewhere if yer don't quit yer 
kiddin and ante up." 

"Well that's good ! What will I be doing while you are doing 
all that?" 

"Wat will ye be dpin? Wy, yer'll be shakin hands wid de 
devil I'm tinkin, fer I tink yer a bad un wid all yer fine clos and 
genteel front." 

A grim smile overspread Robert's face. 

"Well, I guess you will find me a bad one if you get mixed 
up with me." 

"Wat would yuse do?" The footpad asked this in a kind of 
sneering tone as his eye traveled from the others refined features 
down to his slender, neatly clad foot. 

"What would I do, you ask?" 

"Yes, wat would ye do ef I turned meself loose at ye wonst?" 

"Well, I will tell you what I would do. I would just jerk one 
of your arms out and beat you to death with the bloody end of it." 

The would-be robber laughed in a scornful kind of way, and 

"Well, ynse be de best I ever run up against, de best I ever 
tried to trow in de air. Wat wud I be a doin wid dis gun, dough ?" 
' Now it was the others turn to laugh in a tantalizing kind of 
way and reply, 

"Why, you haven't got nerve enough to use that 'barker.' You 
are only putting up a great big bluff." 

The footpad caught his breath and blurted out, "Well, if dat 
wudn't freeze a pump! I'm only Muffin, am I? I'll show yer 
if I'm bluffin er not." 

Crowding still closer with a wicked, determined look on his 
ugly features, he shoved the weapon against Robert's breast, directly 
over the heart, but that organ did not beat a fraction faster and 
a quiet smile of contempt was on his face as the other accompanied 
his actions and words with curses and threatening looks. 

"I am tru monkeyin wid yuse; now yuse jes trow dem deli- 


cate little glove-stretchers in de air wile I go tru yer pockets, or by 
h , I'll make an air hole in yer heart." 

But to this order, as well as the others, he paid no heed. 
Settling himself in a more comfortable position, he brought the 
full force of that magnetic power in his eyes to bear on the 
"Knight of the Road" and held him spellbound till he finished the 
following, delivered in a peculiar, dreamy, indifferent tone of voice : 
"Say, my good fellow, let me tell you a few things you ought to 
know. You think for one thing that you are the whole cigarette, 
but you're only the butt." 

At this remark the thug nearly exploded with wrath. 

"There, there, now, don't allow your angry passions to rise, 
for it is bad form to swear like that. What would your poor 
mother say if she heard you using such language?" There was a 
sound of irony in his voice as he spoke. "Besides you are working 
yourself into a passion and wasting the time you should be out 
looking up a 'live one' for you are on a 'dead one' this trip. A 
mouse could dance a jig in my pockets and never break his neck 
over a nickle. So, if you want to do any killing without anything 
in it, go ahead with the funeral. It will save me the trouble of 
walking over to the lake. I was going to try the river, but I hap- 
pened to think of a piece I saw in a paper once about a tramp, 
one of those oyster-can Willies, who was filthy and dirty and tired. 
He was so tired of the wicked city that he became tired of life; 
besides he had been disgraced in the eyes of the great army he 
belonged to. He had been caught 'red-handed' pushing a buck- 
saw through some poles in a back yard, for a hand-out. He could 
not stand up under the awful disgrace, so he came to the 12th 
street bridge to die. Writing his will on the rail, he set the can 
near it, then with a last farewell look around, cast himself in. 
There, now, don't interrupt, let me finish. Mind you, as dirty as 
lie was, he could not stand this river that flows beneath us, he 
choked and gagged and cried lustily for help, A passing tug 
threw him a rope and he was soon on terra firma, but he went 
on a dog trot to the lake. Arriving there, he threw himself 
into the clear sparkling water and ended his disgraced existence 
Now then, my case is like his in one way, for I was standing here, 
looking down in it, having just filled out my string of hard luck, 
which is longer than a preacher's sermon, but like, the hero of the 
oyster can, I had just made up my mind to die when you " 

Robert was holding the others eyes and attention in spite 
of him. It was one man's will power exercised over anothers. 
Consequently the thug had failed to notice the gun as its weight 
gradually dragged the hand that held it down to a less dangerous 
position. With a quick motion, Robert knocked it from his hand 
and sprang at his throat. 



"The river, my friend, is not good enough for me to 'croak' 
in, but it is good enough for you, and there is just where I am 
going to put you." 

The thug fought desperate^. They swayed backward and for- 
ward and Robert soon had his man half over the rail. The moon 
was now shining down in their upturned faces, for in the struggle 
they had worked out of the shadow cast by the great bridge sup- 
ports. He was about to take advantage of the jiu jitsu "twist" he 
had on the footpad and spin him over the rail to the awful death 
awaiting him below, when he made a startling discovery. Jerking 
him to his feet, he scanned his face more closely, while he listened 
to the "Knight of the Road" curse and growl. Then he cried, 
"The bulldog of the lake front, by all that is eternal!" 

The other stopped his cursing long enough to take a better look 
at his antagonist and ejaculated, "An yer de guy wat lent me de 

With one accord they broke away and ended all differences 
by warmly shaking hands. They both looked at each other with 
interest, each one in his way admiring the other. There, was a 
great difference in these two men, but a kindred feeling sprang 
up between them. The "Knight of the Road" eyed his late antag- 
onist from head to foot again as if trying to locate the source of 
that wonderful strength he evidently possessed. Then he spoke. 

"Well, I'll be blowed!" 

"I should say you were pretty nearly 'blowed' as it is," 
replied his companion. 

"Yep, an I'll give ye credit fer it, top, an ye came near blowing 
me over de rail, an I'd sooner a hull train o' cars ud run over me." 

"How did you come out of that job on the lake front?" 

"It was a fizzle, and I quit wid only a bloody book_ stuck in 
me shoe. Somebody had swiped the coin out ob it wile I was 
mixed up wid de grass. But say, pal, I aint a goin ter sling any 
more gab till I knows who I'm a spielin ter. See? Wat's yer lay 
and wat do dey call yuse wen yuse are et home?" 

"Well, as to home, I plead not guilty. Did have an interest 
in one till yesterday, but tonight I have no more home than a 
rabbit and I haven't even got the price of a canary bird's breakfast. 
With the home I lost everything, even the love of one of the pret- 
tiest girls in America. As to 'lay,' I have none, and my name T 
lost with the rest, so call me what you like, just so you don't call 
me too late to join in anything you have on hand. If you ask no 
question, you will always find me 'Johriny-at-the-wheel.' " 

"I believe you, pal. Yuse are one ob de right^ sort and dat's 
no midnight dream eder. But, say, takin yer all in all, yer flyin 
lighter dan a chip hat in a cyclone, aint ye, and ye only tie me fer 
I aint seed enuf coin since I mixed up wid yer on de lake front 
ter buy a piece of shin plaster as big as a minute, but I got a plac? 


wat I calls 'home' and yuse be welcome ter it an wat's in it ef ye 
aint too hardened to go tru a church ter get dere." 

"Go through a church, did you say?" 

"Dat's wat I sed, an I'll tip somethin off ter ye dat'll s'prise ye." 

"Well, you can keep your surprises for someone else. I'm 
not looking for any home in a church among rats, but I will go 
with you and get you located, so if I need you I will know where 
to find you. If I had known where to find you a short time ago, I 
might have saved a few thousand and put you on Easy Street too." 

"How's dat?" 

"There you go now. I told you to ask no questions." 

"Questions and answers is bad tings. Dat is right pal, but 
ye axed me a question a while ago about de lake front job." 

"Yes, but that is a matter we were both mixed up in, and I 
would advise you, if you are going to continue in your present 
calling as a 'Knight of the Road' never to get confidential with 
women that live on the shady side of the street or ask or answer 
any more questions than you can help." 

"Tanks, pal, yuse have put me on de right car, an I aint a 
goin to git off eder. What do yer say t' goin over an take a 
rubber at me joint? It's a swell place ter plant yerself in ef ye are 
under cover fer anything." 

Robert had been thinking rapidly during this strange dialogue 
and replied : "Well, I'm not under cover for anything, but I've got 
a pal that is, so I will go with you and here comes somebody 
along the footway. Put your coat down behind. It is caught in 
the handle of your gun," cautioned Robert. 

"Yer lamps don't miss much, and dat's no " 

"Hist! Here they come." 

They pressed back into the shadows. Two well-built, deter- 
mined looking men passed. The footpad pressed Robert's arm. 

"Do ye twig dem gazabos?" 

"They are 'fly cops,' I should judge." 

"Well, ye be a shrewd un, sure. Dere is not one guy in ten 
thousand wat could pick em out as elbows, but dat's wat dey are 
de slickest in de business an dey pop up most everywhere. I 
don't believe dey ever hit de bunk for a round o' sleep." 

"What are their names?" 

"De feller wid de black wings under his nose dey calls 
'Rometto.' De oder wid de scramble egg complexion and carroty 
colored hair, dey calls 'Arlex' or someting like dat. Dey are de 
ones dat gave us a pretty good chase down in Hammond and 
pniched me pal, and I haint been able to spring him yet." 

^"Well, come on, let's blow this bridge. They may take a, 
notion to come back this way on a rubber." 

"Will ye come down to me den?" 

"Yes, but lead the way by just one-half of a block ahead of 
me, no more or no less." 

"All right, captain. Don't give me de shake, cuz I tink mighty 
well o' de game yc put up. See?" 


Robert made no answer to thij?, but asked, "Have you got 
anything to eat over there?" 

"Well guess we can scare up someting dat'll pass." 

"All right. Get your legs to moving. I will be a stone's throw 
behind you with a belly as empty as a military dude's head." 

The bulldog started off and walked along tvith an innocent 
air, but as he passed a pedestrian a short distance away he turned 
with his hand on his weapon and looked at Robert as if to say, 
"Shall I hold him up?" But Robert shook his head so the merchant 
passed on unmolested and unconscious of how a slight shake of a 
head had saved him from being held up and robbed. He went 
whistling on his way, probably to loving arms and a happy home 
full of cheer and welcome after an honest day's business, while 
Robert started out to follow and join his fortune to that of the foot- 
pad he had saved from the happy whistler's wealth. 

The wittily inclined footpad led him a short distance along 
the bridge and then turning off into Clark street, they passed 
through a district infested with almost every class of human beings 
known on the face of the earth, of which Italians, Negroes, Chinese 
and the lower class of Polish and Russian Jews predominated. 
Many of the women and barkers tried to intercept him, but their 
cunning eyes saw something in his manner which readily convinced 
them he was not a greenhorn in spite of the fact that he looked 
like "ready money" as a barker was heard to say to a Chinaman 
steerer for a fan-tan game. A man of his fine appearance was 
seldom seen in that locality unless in a carriage or accompanied 
by an officer to protect his person and wealth. He had not fol- 
lowed this street far when he _ saw his man glance behind and 
turn into Polk street. Following a short distance, he saw him 
again turn and glance behind, then turn to the north. He 
found this street comparatively free of pedestrians, but infested 
with low resorts fn which all classes of frail women held out. Many 
of the inmates were sitting on the low steps, chewing snuff and 
smoking cigarettes, while they at the same time plied their wicked 
trade. Many glaring eyes sought his face to read it and decide 
whether or not it would be good policy to try to work their wiles 
on him. Some of the less experienced ones accosted him with, 
"Come here Tall-and-Kandsome," but he paid no heed; while 
there were others who mistook him for a detective and scampered 
into their filthy dens, only to poke their dissipated faces out from 
a half-drawn curtain. It made him think of a lot of prairie 
dogs. At last he saw his man ahead of him stop in front of an 
old church and carelessly look up at a city clock off to the west, 
and up and down the dark street, then back out of sight into the 
archway of the building. As he stopped in the shadow of the build- 
ing and looked around, he saw that it was a lonesome spot 
and no one was in sight, except the footpad, who called 
him in a low tone. _ Together they entered, his con- 
ductor using a key. If it was dark and gloomy on the outside, 
it was still worse inside. He could see nothing but the white cuffs 


of his companion as they cut the darkness. Keeping his eyes on 
them as they swung back and forth, he followed until they came 
to a stop, and he watched them with interest as they descended to 
a level with the owner's boots, then ascended while a rush of air 
struck him in the face. His conductor lifted a slab and spoke 

"Now den, pal, it's yer turn to go first, I'll follow and close 
me door. Look out fer yerself. Jes feel around till ye gets yer 
mitts on de ladder, den follow dem patent ledders of ytise down 
backwards. Quit when ye gets t' de bottom and wait fer yer uncle, 
dat's me." ; 

Robert followed these instructions, and groping around with 
his gloved hands_he discovered a ladder. Feeling his way down this, 
he waited for his companion in whom he began to take quite an 
interest. The footpad quickly joined Robert, closing the opening 
after him, then again led the way. < As he followed, the cuffs still 
answered as a guide until they again descended and seemed to be 
reaching for something. At last they ascended. A click was heard 
and a ray of light shot from a dark lantern which struck him 
square in the eyes, almost blinding them for a moment. 

"Excuse me, captin, didn't mean ter." 

"All right, but get a move on you. I could eat a bear." 

Before them there was a stone wall, seemingly the founda- 
tion of the old church. Inserting his fingers in a crevice, he swung 
back a portion of the wall just large enough for them to pass 
through comfortably, which they did, closing it carefully. Robert 
again followed his guide for some distance. Soon he could hear 
the muffled clang of the street car bells and the rumble of wagons 
for a short time, and then they could hear them no more. He 
imagined they had passed under Clark street, still he asked no 
questions, but wondered why and when this _ subterranean _ passage 
was built under this city of wicked reputation. His guide now 
stopped in front of a heavy door of wood. Upon pushing this open, 
Robert followed and found himself in a well-furnished room about 
12 by 16 feet in dimensions. The air here seemed to be better 
than that of the passage. He noticed that there were three doors 
besides the one they had entered, also that there were many chairs 
which seemed to have been lately in use, for scattered among them 
on the floor, which was covered with rugs, were a number of cus- 
pidors and around these the butts of cigarettes and cigars. _The 
walls were covered with pictures of all kinds, the nude predominat- 
ing, mostlv clippings from such papers as Standard and Police 
Gazette. Then there were rows upon rows of sporting men and 
noted criminals. It in one way put him in mind of Steve Brody's 
place on the "Bowery" in New York, for there was not a patch of 
the wall or ceiling as large as his hand that was not covered with 
a pictured face^ or form. He stepped close to the wall and ex- 
amined the pictures of the criminals, for he had noticed 
writing of some sort on or below each. It proved to be 
their names and aliases, and to this in most every case was a 


penciled remark, something like this : "Railroaded by " and there 
followed the name of some detective such as Rometto, Arlex, Mil- 
raly, Shubert, Kaply, etc. Under others were inscribed: "He is a 
dead one ;" "He is all O. K. :" "Ha is a 'stool ;" "He died with his 
boots on;" "He was croaked by the cops ;" "He is game;" "Sleepy 
Burke's pipe went out and he woke up." Another said : "He told his 
troubles to a cop and got copped," etc., etc. It would take fully 
a day to read them all. He turned to find the footpad with a 
grin on his face that chased away the fierce look which he generally 
assumed during business hours, 

"Wat do ye think o' rne gallery?" he asked. 

"Well, I'll have to look it over later. Where are those bottles 
of wine and cold lobster you were cackling about?" 

"I've got em all right." 

"Well, ycu won't have them long if you will just let me get 
my lamps on them." 

"Take a seat, captin, and I'll fix ye out in two twists o' a lamb's 

He hurried about, jerking chains here and there and whirled 
a round table into the center of the den. Robert noticed that it 
looked as if it had been used for a card table. Then the host 
disappeared through one of the doors, only to quickly appear again 
with lobster and wine. Setting this on the table, he secured some 
glasses and a loaf of bread. Then these two men, so alike and yet 
so unlike,, broke bread together and discussed many things, many 
people, and many plans in this strange underground chamber. 


As they finished, his host brought out a box of cigars and they 
settled themselves for a smoke and further talk. Robert noticed 
that the weed he had placed beween his firm, white teeth was of a 
fine flavor and of the best make, and he remarked to his host: 

"They must be coming kind of easy for you to be able to 
smoke this kind." 

"Well, dey aint comin easy, even if dem are fifty cents a trow. 
Dey didn't cost me anything, only de trouble o' reaching fer dem 
wile me pal was stallin fer me ; and dat wine is off o' de same 
shelf. But say, wat do ye tink o' me den? Aint it de proper 

"Yes, it couldn't be better providing you have another exit." 

"Dat's jes wat I got, me boy, an it's a bute too! Want to take 
a rubber at it now?" 

"No, wait till I am ready to blow. You may show me out that 
way if you wish." 

"All right, pal, but yer'll find yerself in a pretty tough part 
o' dis wicked village. It's wat dey call de 'cesspool o' crime.' Dat's 
wat de 'civic fed' calls it. Dis 'ere city used t' be de best in de 
vvorl;^ till dem fellers wid white chokers, wat dey call preachers 
began t' show derc hands. Dey aint satisfied dat a sport an gambler 


should earn his ^own living like a gentleman slinging de paste- 
boards upon de inside, but dey got to rubber around an raid de 
gambling houses and drive de sport out on to de street t' hold 
some bloke up fer de price o' a meal, if he gits one." 

Robert listened to his talkative host, but smoked on in silence. 
Sometimes a thoughtful expression would come over his face, as 
though thinking deeply of some plans he had in mind. 

"Fer nobody aint a-goin ter han ye anything after ye're 
knocked out o' a job, like me," the thug continued. "I've worked 
in almost every gamblin house in de city and made me little $8 
and $10 a night. O' course I was a good feller wid me coin, and 
let loose o' it again and wen de joint was sloughed, I didn't 
have enuff t' pay em fer de ride in de wagon to de station. But 
de others were in de same boat, an de boss who is a pretty good 
feller, dat's Wagner wat runs de town, settled fer us. Dere ye are 
without a cent and nobody t' han ye anything unless ye stick a 
gun under der nose and beller at em t' cough up, and dat's jes 
wat I've been a-doin ever since. Dey may tie me, but dey can't 
beat me. De city owes me a good livin an I'm goin t' have it. 
Why, my dad used t' pay taxes fer two or tree houses in dis 
ere part o' de town, while dere is one o' me pals wat had a dad 
as owned a whole row of buildins' but me pal don't own even a 
spot t' be buried in, an ef a cop or mark should snuff his candle, 
wy, he wud have t' go to pauper's field and rot wid de oder poor 
stiffs out dere who didn't have de price when dey croaked." 

"You have more than one pal, then I take it." 

"Yes, dere's five o' us wen we are all t' home, but some are 
away on a visit. Two 'flys' wat dey calls Shubert and Woolriedge 
got em a pass so dey could go out an see a old friend o' deres, at 
Joliet. But dey'll be back soon wid de top button off o' dere 
britches from livin t' high." 

"Are they all right," Robert asked. 

"Are dey all right? Wai ye kin bet all yer loose change on 
dat, pard. Dey are like clams, hard t' open and game t' de back 
bone. All dis push needs is a good head t' plan and manage fer 
em, some one^ wat kin handle em. Dey are like a lot o' young 
colts, full o' vinegar, an dey worry de life out o' me, an are pretty 
near as bad as 'Pop Anson's* colts, an dey calls me 'Anson' wen 
dey run out o' gab and can't tink o' any oder hard names to trow 
at me." 

"Have you or they any ladies on the string?" 

"Well, I know wat ye'd say. Dere is one girl in de push, but 
she is dead wise and kin be trusted, an she is useful, too. It's all 
rot about dem sayin as wat dey can't trust a woman. Dere is a 
good many as ye can't trust as far as ye kin trow a red hot stove; 
but again, dere is women as ye kin trust." 

"Has she ever been in the sweat box?" 

"Has she? Well I should say she had, an she never has 
squealed an never will fer Detectives Rometto and Arlex had 'er 
in der sweat box fer a whole day et a time without anything t' 


chew, and dey couldn't pump nothin out o' her, an I guess dey 
puts up about de best game at dat kind o' work of er.y of de elbows. 
An wat's more, she is a dead ringer for de fine ladies wat ye see 
on de boulevards, an as purty as a peach, an she aint got no man 
an she don't run wid de oder girls an de bulls here never forced 
enyting agin her. Oh, she's a smooth un an she makes de colts 
treat er like a lady. How she ever does it, I don't know, fer dey 
don't care fer de devil himself. Yuse see, dem guys '11 git together 
here an smoke my cigars and cigarettes while dey tells me dere 
troubles an finish up wid a lot o' pipe stories dat ud freeze yer 
blood, an I believe ef de devil himself ud appear true de wall dey 
ud commence _ kiddin 'im an spit tobacco juice in his eyes ef he 
kicked about it. Oh, dey be terrors an dat's no evenin dream, but 
an early mornin fact. But dey are 'Johnny-on-de-spot' wen dere's 
enything on de taps, an ef dey gets de hooks trowed into dem, dey 
takes der 'med' like de dead game guys dey are, an go tru de sweat 
box wid a grin on dere mugs an never squeal or give up a ting. 
All dey ever got out o' dem boys dey could put in der eye an it 
wudn't hurt em a bit." 

"And how is it with you when they get you in the sweat box 
as you call it?" 

"How is it wid me? Well, dey never got me dere yet, but ef 
dey did, you'd be safe in bettin all yer loose change that I'll stand 
pat an ef it's a game o' gab slingin' I'll put em asleep de first 
round. I'll out talk em an still say nothin. Dey'd find dat Red is 
t' foxy fer em an wont stand der work even ef it is fine, fer 
wen dey begin t' shoot de short con into me I'll begin t' trow de 
long con into em.' 

"Your speaking about change puts me in mind of something. 
How much change have you?" 

"Aint got a red." 

"Well, let's go out and get some." 

"Shall we try de bridge?" 

"No, that's too slow for me. Are the big mercantile stores 
closed yet?" 

"Dey are on dis side, but dey aint on de oder side." 

"Well, let's go over there. I have a grudge against that side 

"Wat ye a-goin t' do?" 

"Why go over and save some of the merchants the trouble of 
counting up their day's receipts." 

His companion looked at him for a moment in a puzzled and 
incredulous way. 

"Ye mean t' go in an hold de whole store up?" 

"That's what I mean." 

"Oh, ye ^got yer kiddin clos on. We could never do it and 
make our 'git away.' " With an incredulous grin on his wicked 
face he arose and began to remove the bottles and glasses as if the 
question was settled. "No, I'll pass dat kind of a lay-up." 

Robert selected another cigar, bit the end off with a snap of 


his firm teeth and said : "Well, I will have to pass you up, then, 
for I want a pal that has nerve and " He did not finish. The 
other had turned with the bottles and glasses still in his hands. 

"Nerve? Say, captin, ye don't mean t' say ye are in earnest 
about holdin up a whole store full o' people?" 

Robert was lighting his cigar and did not answer until he had 
finished, then flipping the burned match across the table, he assured 
him that he was. The footpad's eyes searched his companion's face 
for a moment, but being convinced that he was in earnest, threw 
the bottles and ware in a heap, and a curse mingled with the sound 
of breaking glasses as he snatched up his hat saying, 

"Come on, I'll show ye ef I have got nerve enough or not." 


He started towards the door opposite that by which they 
entered, but Robert laid his hand on his shoulder and stayed him. 

"Not so fast. Wait till I give you a few instructions and ask 
you a question or two." 

"Fire away, but you'll have t' be in a hurry or de big places 
'11 be sloughed." 

"Have you got confidence enough in me to do just as I tell 
you without asking questions?" 


"Very well then, see that your shooting irons are in working 
order. Lead the way out, then 'follow me till you see me step into 
an alley. As I do, you must stop near by and wait till I send my 
pal out to you and he will enter the store with you. Do you under- 
stand the crook's deaf and dumb finger motion?" 


"Well, keep an eye on him and do just as he tells you. Hold 
up the cashier, then lam, but split away from each other after you 
get out of danger, you cop the swag and blow back here and stay 
under cover till I come." 

"How'll I know yer pal?" 

"What is the password ^with your gang?" 

" 'Eitak* is de pass dat gits ye anything we got." 

"Yep, it is de name of our gal spelt backwards." 

"Katie?" he asked. 

"Yep, dat's de handle she goes by." 

"All right, that is very good. Now how am I to get in on my 
return ?" 

"Here's a key t' de ole church. Come in de same way ye did 
to-night, an I'll give ye a duck t' Kit an she'll let ye in de oder 

"No, we haven't time for the red-tape of ?.n introduction to so 
fair a lady. I will come the other way. H-tve you two keys?" 

"Got a dozen planted 'round 'ere somewhere." 

"Now there's one thing more and then we will blow. Stick 
your chin up here," 


. The footpad did so, wonderingly. It seemed as though he 
must obey for there was something about the dark-faced man that 
he could not resist if he wished. His words were short, command- 
ing and to the point. If he had ordered him to dig a hole in the 
Chicago river, he would have attempted it without a remonstrance 
of any kind. Robert dragged him near the light. Taking a needle 
from his vest, he stuck the head in a small cork, then dipping the 
point in the fluid contained in the bottle he tilted the others chin 
with one hand while with the other he picked the skin in a half 
' dozen places. As fast as the needle point was withdrawn, a red 
blotch would form as large as a dime, until his face looked like 
a mass of pimple blotches. 

''Now come on, lead the way out of here, and don't forget what 
I have told you." 

The astonished and much puzzled robber quickly led the way 
through the door and along a short passageway much the same as 
the other only dry and more wholesome smelling. Another door in 
a stone foundation was opened, then he ascended a pair of steps 
till his head touched the floor between the string pieces of some, 
building above. Pulling a wire near him, a bell could be faintly 
heard. His guide waited fully a minute, then there was an answer 
so near Robert that he would have jumped had he been a nervous 
man. His guide seemed satisfied. He pressed his shoulder against 
a trap door and Robert followed him up the steps into a luxuriously 
furnished apartment. A girl with beautiful hair and eyes was 
gazing at him in admiration and astonishment while she held a 
pistol tinder the chin of the disfigured "Red Leary." 

"Who are you?" 

"Who am I? Well, dat is good. Don't ye know me Kit?" 

"No, I don't. How did you come here?" 

"Oh, quit yer kiddin, you know me. I am de 'eitak' weazle 
and me friend is a new member. He has de password. Take dat 
gun away from me throat and ask him fer de word." 

Robert gave the password, and a look of something like relief 
and interest was noticed in her face as she lowered her weapon. 
Without further parley, they passed out into a narrow street called 
"Custom House Place." Indeed this was a cesspool of crime, for 
he could see it stamped on every face as he passed along. Wend- 
ing his way in and out among the^warms of painted women, many 
with short dresses who accosted him at every step and fought with 
each other to determine who should pluck this fine looking pigeon, 
but none was destined to ^succeed. If it had been lighter so they 
could have better read his face, they would have thought twice 
before they accosted him at all. His mouth was set and determined 
while his eyes denoted a fixed_ purpose. They were keen and glit- 
tering, and took in every detail of the surroundings as he hurried 
along over the same ground he had traversed early in the evening. 
After crossing the long bridge, he watched the numbers on the 
buildings until he found himself before that of No. 657. It was a 
large store, one which he had noticed in particular as he passed it 


after dropping off the street car for the want of a fare. As he now 
stood gazing around he recalled to his mind the sneers of the gum- 
chewers, also the tantalizing words of the one-armed gambler. 

"So they are 'hot taters' over here, are they? Well, if my 
pimply faced friend proves up all right, I will accept the challenge 
and give them a game without any limit at all." 

Robert, seeing his companion drawing near, stepped into an 
alley. Quickly reversing his coat and applying the fluid which so 
altered his countenance, he appeared before him, gave the word and 
said in deaf and dumb sign language, "Come." 

And he did, although he was more mystified than ever. 

"Well, I'll go tru dis 'ere play if it costs me a life. GeeJ but 
what eyes de pal o' de captin has got. Dey look plum tru a 
feller. Dey are worse den de X-Ray Kit wuz tellin about. I'll 
bet he'll scare em to death if he don't do anything else. But I 
dunno wirl dem X-Rays lamps o' his an me Sunday-go-to-meetin 
gift o' gab backed up wid tree or four big cannons, we might par- 
alyze em all long nuf to walk off wid de coin." 

Further reflections were brought to a stop, for they had now 
entered a brilliantly lighted business house. He followed his mys- 
terious companion who crowded his way through the throng of 
Saturday evening customers and halted before the cashier's desk. 
Drawing their revolvers, they took possession of it, and in almost 
less time than it takes to relate it, they were again on the street 
running for dear life with the receipts of the day's business in their 
possession. It was certainly a bold act. Women fainted, while 
men. stood spell-bound. Then they started in pursuit, fifteen or 
twenty in number. The two robbers saw them coming and halted 
for a moment while the mysterious tall man remarked to his com- 
panion : 

"Do you see that fellow running ahead of the others?" 

"Yep. I knows dat guy. He's one of dem would-be detec- 
tives. De gang calls 'im 'Jimmy Milkweed, the vegetable detec- 
tive.' " 

"Well, I will just stop the whole push by putting a couple of 
airholes through the silk of your friend 'Jimmy Milkweed, the veg- 
etable detective,' as you call him." 

Bang ! Bang ! 

The hat flew off. The owner tumbled to the walk, swearing 
he was killed, while the others fell over him and came to a dead 
stop. Nobody seemed very anxious to continue the chase. Mean- 
time the bold robbers ran a short distance and turned into a de- 
serted side street. Here they fell in a walk and halted in the mouth 
of a dark alley. The short robber was furious and commenced to 
sputter : 

"Wat in h did yer pal do t' me face? Hie has ruined me fer 
life. He has spoilt me good looks." 

"What are you hollering about?" 

"Wy, me face. I jes got a glimpse o' it in a glass over t' dat 
store an me purty mug is spoilt. It's no wonder Kit didn't know 


me, an de folks wat we just put de blocks to ud know me any- 

"Well, that's just what you want. That is the idea of it 

While he was talking, he had produced another vial and under 
cover of the darkness saturated his finger tips with a few drops of 
the contents. 

"Let's see your face. Oh, it is pretty bad, and that is a fact." 

Passing his saturated fingers over the blotches, they disap- 
peared like magic, but the^ late possessor of them was ignorant of 
this and left for his den in anything but a happy frame of mind, 
although he carried with him $580. His tall and mysterious com- 
panion had helped himself to a twenty dollar note and some change 
and was now standing among the excited crowd as the Cuban Span- 
iard. He listened to everything with keen satisfaction and watched 
the officers and detectives as they began to gather. Becoming tired 
of this amusement, he returned to the den. Groping his way along 
the passage, he pushed the door open and found "Red" with his feet 
cocked upon the table, smoking, while he swore between every puff. 

"What's the matter?" 

"Wat's de matter? Ye go an spoil a feller's face an den ye 
got de gall t' ask him wat's de matter?" 

"Oh, I will fix that for you all right in a minute. Where's 
the swagg?" 

"Dere it is an to h wid it. I wouldn't 'av 'ad me face spoilt 
fer all de coin west o' de crick." 

"Well, if you are going to cry about it, why I guess I will 
have to make a few passes like this and say, 'Presto, change, electo 
conclogy, flimology, pass away' and away they go. There you are 
and you are as pretty as ever." 

"Oh, cheese yer kiddrn. I know I always wuz ez ugly ez 
ugly ez a camp meetin preacher, but now I look like me face had 
been run tru a sausage machine." 

He jerked his feet_ off the table and commenced to pace up 
and down, making the air blue with his curses. Robert smiled, and 
taking a small pocket mirror from his coat he passed it over to him 
saying : 

"Now don't break that, but take a rubber at yourself." 

The weasel did so with a scowl, which was quickly changed 
into amazement and expressions of wonderment fell from his lips 
as he peered at his reflection incredulously. 

"Well, ef ye ain't de devil I'll eat me hat How'd ye do it?" 
There was not a blotch on his face. 

"Here, I will fix you and after this you can fix yourself up 
when you make a business call. Have you any small bottles lying 
around ?" 

"Guess I have. I'll see." 

He disappeared in another room and soon returned with the 
required articles. Robert took a small leather case from his pocket. 
Opening this, the weasel's wondering eyes behald a row of small 


flat vials, some full and others partially filled with liquids of dif- 
ferent colors. Extracting two, one red and the other green, he 
emptied half of their contents into the vials furnished by the 
weazle. Inserting the needle in the cork from the vial containing 
the red fluid, he replaced the corks in both and said : 

"Now, there you are, needle and all. This one with the needle 
is the one you are to manufacture blotches with, and this one is 
the little 'presto-change' affair." 

"Well, but ye didn't have dis yere stuff wen ye said 'presto- 
change' and drove em away." 

"Oh, I was only stringing you a little, but if you have occasion 
to use this again, merely dampen your fingers and pass it over the 
spots and they will disappear. Now you must get you a strong lit- 
tle leather case to protect them should you get into one of your 
rough-and-tumble scraps." 

"Well by thunder! If ye aint de best I ever see! But say, 
wy didn't ye fix yer pal wid de white face up dat way?" 

"Oh, he didn't need any fixing. Don't you worry about him." 

"Well, he made me flesh creep. He aint a spook, is he?" 

"You can call him that if you want to. I haven't named 
him yet." 

"Well, de spook's a bute. You aut t' seed 'im. Wy, he wus 
quicker an chain lightning. I guess de merchants tout a cyclone had 
struck em. Did ye see us?" 

"Yes, I was protecting your 'get-away,' but don't ask so many 
questions. Plant these vials in your clothes and let's cut this coin 
in two. I must blow at once." 

"All right, captin, ye knows yer business. I can see dat. 
Let's see, de coin goes tree ways, don't it?" 

"Yes, you, my pal and I." 

They divided the ill-gotten gains into three piles. Robert took 
two of them and left, agreeing to return the next day at a certain 
hour. As the "spook" and Robert were one, two-thirds of the ill- 
gotten gains fell to him. 


It was late when Robert arose the following day and while he 
was indulging in an eye-opener, the dispenser of drinks called his 
attention to an article in the daily paper regarding the hold-up of 
the night before, little dreaming that he was the principal. 

"Did you ever see anything as bold as that in your country?" 
he asked. 

"Well, no, I don't know as I ever did. It was certainly a bold 
piece of business, but I suppose your police will gather them in 
before night." 

"Sure thing ! They probably have them by this time. Noth- 
ing like that ever gets away from the chief, but it certainly was the 


boldest work I ever heard of. Just think of it, the paper says the 
store was crowded with customers, and the bandits can be identified 
anywhere, for one was tall, light complexioned, well built with 
refined features and dressed in the latest style, while his companion, 
the short one, had a mass of red blotches on his face, probably 
from some awful disease, and with such a good description they 
can not get away. It would be impossible. Don't you think so?" 

"Yes, it looks that way. You have certainly got a good police 
system here and they seem to cope more successfully with the crim- 
inal element than in my city or even other cities I have visited. In 
fact, I have been better impressed with the few I have met of your 
large force than I was with those I met in London." 

"Have you met the chief yet. ?" 

"No, I still have the pleasure coming. What kind of a man 
is he?" 

"Oh, he is a gentleman, all right, and a good fellow, but of 
course he has enemies, the same as every man in his profession is 
bound to have. You show me a man who has no enemies at all. 
and I will show you a fool. He is all right, and has handled this 
big city full of crime pretty well so far, and I'll bet some of his 
sleuths will put a crimp in that tall and short bandit before the 
sun goes down to-night." 

"Well, I wish him luck. I must go to breakfast and mean- 
while glance over my mail." 

There was a letter from^ Gordon stating that he had called a 
number of times, and once with Dorris, and closed by hoping to see 
him at Ivy cottage or at the Palmer house during the evening. 
There was also one from Mrs. Waite, a motherly little epistle urg- 
ing him to come away from the heart of the city and enjoy the 
balmy air with them. 

"Nothing from Dorris!" 

He impatiently thrust the letters into his pocket and devoted 
his attention to the meal and a party of gentlemen at the next table 
who were discussing the robbery. They little dreamed that one ot 
the bold, bad bandits was breathing the same air and listening to 
their comments. 

Robert spent the evening with "the weazle" and Kit, the Break- 
O'Day lass, meantime familiarizing himself with the place, above as 
well as below. They also showed him a secret chamber off from 
the main room of the den. The entrance was through a door off 
from the wall and was so cleverly disguised by the many pictures 
that he had failed to notice it before. The walls were padded and 
it was handsomely furnished, seemingly with odds and ends, prob- 
ably stolen. They did not enlighten him and he asked no ques- 
tions. He noticed a strong door leading from this. They opened 
it with a large key. This was a damp-smelling place and he heard 
a scampering and squeaking noise as from large rats, but the dark- 
ness was so intense he could see nothing. 

"What do you use this foul-smelling hole for?" 

"Well, dat's were Kit puts a guy dat's a little off color and 


won't add a couple more figures to de check she is shaking him 
down fur. Oh, I tell ye, ye wudn't believe it, but dere's sonic 
awful big swells o' dis city ben de guests o' de rats in dere, an dey 
don't stay dere long eder til dey cave an puts dere fists to de paper. 
We calls it de 'rat-pit.' " 

"And it is well named, according to what you say. Then there 
are others who know of this underground boudoir and prison?" 

"Budwa? Wat's dat?" 

The woman laughed, and not an unpleasant laugh, either, show- 
ing a gleaming set of even teeth -under the brilliant eyes, as she 
explained Robert's meaning to the weazle. 

"Oh, I see, ye may call it de 'budwa' ef ye wants ter, but we 
calls it de 'oil room/ and nobody knows about it cept de regular 
members o' de 'Wit Club.' I calls it de 'Wit Club' cause dem colts 
wen dey all gets together here are de wittiest bunch o' sure ting 
grafters ye ever see. But dem guys wat Kit had down here in de 
rat-pit, dey were full o' knock-out drops and blindfolded so as dey 
couldn't see. Dere was only two or tree off color ones, and dey 
daren't squeal, even if tey did get next." 

"Oh, I see, it's quite clever." 

"Well, Kit's de one wat gets credit fer dat, fer dat's her own 
graft, an she aint got no side lines either dat's strong enough. Oh, 
she gets all kinds. One guy was de 'main squeeze' at " 

The woman interrupted and said: "Red, that will do now, 
you mustn't mention names." 

"I warn't a-goin t' mention no names. I war jes a-goin t' say 
as he was de 'main squeeze* o' de " 

"Well, ring off," she interrupted. "Your friend is probably 
not interested in such matters." 

"Well, I guess I know who I'm a talkin t', don't I? It don't 
go no furder fer he is de double hinge clam, he is." 

"I don't doubt that for a moment. If I did, he wouldn't be 
here in the den with us unless it was a case of his leaving it feet 

"Oh, yer de right article, Kit, but less go up and crack a few 
bottles wile ye get better acquainted wid me new pal, and wen ye 
do, ye won't be leary o' slingin gab before him." 

They returned to the building above. The woman seemed to 
be smitten with this dark-faced man and exerted all the wiles in 
her power to bring him to her feet, but progress in that direction 
was slow. His thoughts were of a pure girl in a home of virtue. 
She sang to him and tried to interest him with some of the latest 
steps in a very suggestive dance, while Red patted the accom- 
paniments. Wine flowed like water until the weazle was laid out 
on a rich sofa, which had been the resting place of men of note 
while inspecting the wickedest ruts of the wicked city. But Rob- 
ert left the house soon after with a cool head and his thoughts 
still on the banks of the river. The_ woman ^as^ disappointed but 
not discouraged, and made up her mind to win his favor. 


As he passed through the entrance of his hotel, Robert's quick 
eye caught a glimpse of Gordon sitting near the window of the 
reception room. Later there was a knock at his door, but he retired 
without answering it. 

After breakfast the following morning he had disguised him- 
self to go out. As he opened his door, he stood face to face with 
his brother, who, with raised knuckles, was just about to rap. 
Robert's active brain worked out the part he must play with won- 
derful rapidity. He said, "Ah, Robert, you have come at last. I 
have been waiting some time and was about to leave to fill another 

Gordon was completely thrown off, and supposed this was some 
friend of Robert's who took him for Robert just returned and 
replied : 

"Pardon me, you are mistaken. You must take me for my 

They had advanced farther into the room where the light was 
better and Robert, the supposed friend, pretended to look closer. 

"Oh, pardon me, I see my mistake, but you look wonderfully 

"Yes, we do, your mistake was very natural. As boys, we were 
often taken for one another." 

They both waited, meantime, chatting as two chance acquaint- 
ances will. He had introduced himself as "Louis Palmello" of 
Cuba. At last they left the building and strolled down the boule- 
vard. They seemed to strike up a friendship, and Gordon, in his 
good hearted, impulsive way invited him to accompany him to Ivy 
cottage, where they would probably find Robert before them. And 
so this is how it came about that Robert, as Mr. Louis Palmello 
of Cuba, became a calling acquaintance of those at the cottage, as 
Gordon's friend. So this clever man of many parts went on play- 
ing out his hand. He was adding another string to his bow. 
Would he be able to' manipulate all? 


Now ihere was hardly a day passed but some robbery took 
place, unequaled in boldness and audacity, apparently by the same 
two bandits that held up the 12th street business house. The great 
drag-net was cast over the city and gathered in its meshes many 
well-known criminals, but the tall, genteel robber and the short 
robber with a pimpled face, who always swore like a pirate, were 
at large and the police were much puzzled. They had made many 
arrests, but not one of them could be identified as either the tall 
or short bandit. So the tall and short men became terrors and a 
by-word on the lips of everybody. The daily papers, which before 
had devoted only a half column, now gave them two or three, and 
sometimes a whole page, with interesting cuts of the scene where 


the robberies took place. The seventh was a sad day for the busi- 
ness men of Chicago, for one of their number, a proud merchant, 
proprietor of one of the largest mercantile houses on the West 
Side, had been murdered as everybody naturally supposed by the 
notorious "long and short men." But they were mistaken in part, 
for while the brave merchant was weltering in his blood, gasping 
and trying to retain the breath that was fast leaving his body, Rob- 
ert Long (alias Louis Palmello, the Cuban, alias the spook, alias 
number "49," and known to every reader of the many dailies far 
and near as the "long man") was standing at the side of Dorris, 
the object of his one great passion, and the ceremony was in full 
sway that would make them man and wife. How could this be? 
We will go back a day or two. 

Robert had confided in the "weazle" and they were busily 
working on the reversible hat (a plan which the fertile brain of 
the convict had at last, after long study, worked into practical 
relief from the chaos of seemingly impossible ideas running in his 
mind regarding it) when two of the colts (as Red called them) 
came clattering in to the underground retreat. They both jumped 
to their feet. Robert whipped out two large revolvers and ordered 
them to throw up their hands. They were two very much aston- 
ished men, and their hands went up under that stern command. 
They looked at the "weazle" who laughingly explained matters to 
all parties, then told them that Robert was to be their new "captin," 
and in the future they were to go to him with their troubles and to 
look to him for their orders. They seemed to have confidence in 
the "weazle" and settled the question over a bottle of wine by 
merely saying, "Well, wat suits you, Red, suits us. I guess he kin 
fill de bill. I know one ting, he can 'draw a pair' quicker dan any 
guy I ever see, an his bluff is good. Wy, we'd of trowed up our 
feet, too, ef he'd of ordered us to in dat tone o' voice. Oh, he's 
good at dat game." 

Robert then laid down the law to them ; that they should go by 
numbers instead of names, (1, 2, 3, 4,) and should look to number 
"2" for their orders when he was absent and they should take turns 
in accompanying him on his raids, also that they must associate 
with no women at all except Kit. The penalty of disobeying this 
rule would be confinement in the "rat pit," and the penalty of 
betraying a companion would be death. And, above all, they were 
to obey instructions without asking questions, even though it 
seemed to them impractical. This being settled to everybody's sat- 
isfaction, the "weazel," or number "2" as he is now known, told 
them of the "spook," the captain's silent pal, who was on the out- 
side all the time and worked up the lays. 

"Wat lays?" they asked. 

"You'll see. Dere is one comin off day after to-morrow, aint 
it, captin?" 

"Yes, on the 7th at 8 sharp, and I may let you take "3" and 
"4" with you so I can see what kind of game they put up." 


"Oh, dey are all right, captin. My kids are the pluckiest guys 
ye ever see outside o' de 'spook' an yerself." 

"Yes, but it takes something besides pluck, but I guess they will 
be all right. They look wise enough and nervy enough. Let me 
see, you are all about the same height. That's good. Well, I must 
leave you, I have some business with the 'spook' out of town, so 
take care of yourself till I see you again." 

"Who is the new captin?" they both inquired in a breath as the 
door closed on Robert, alias Louis Palmello. 

"Who is he? Well, dere ye go askin questions. Ye'll find out 
soon enough ef ye go out wid 'im." 

"Wat'll he do dat we can't do? We ken stand de clip wid any 
guy in de biz unless it might be de 'long and short' uns, dey are a 
little swift." 

"Yes, dem guys 'ave got nerve, an dat's no kid," said num- 
ber "3.' 

"Do ye know who dey are, Red?" number "4" inquired. 

"Do I? Well, I should cough up a cheese. Of course I do." 

"Who are dey?" 

The "weazle" made a motion of his head towards the door 
through which Robert had passed. 

"He's de 'long' of it and I am de 'short' of it." 

"Go way !" 

"Too true." 

Number "3" and number "4" stared in amazement awed into 
silence by this wonderful piece of news. 

On his way out Robert passed a few words with Kit, the "Break- 
o'-Day-Lass," as the colts termed her, and then down the narrow 
street teaming with corruption and vice. The demimondes that 
made up two-thirds of the motley mass of depraved humanity knew 
his face and he came and went unmolested. 

The following day found him at Ivy cottage, where he had, as 
the Spanish Cuban, wormed his way into the good graces of Mrs. 
Waite and Dorris. They anxiously inquired if he had yet seen Rob- 
ert. Hie told them he had, and that he was making preparations to 
leave for Cuba, during the evening some time. This news grieved 
them very much. 

"Did you hand him the invitation to Dorris and Gordon's 
wedding, on the 7th?" 

"Yes, but he said that it would be impossible to attend. He 
does not seem in the best frame of mind seems worried about 

"Won't he even come and bid us good-bye?" 

"Well, he may. I tried to bring him out with me but he 
claimed he was too busy just at the time, but might come out later 
on to say good-bye, but I hardly think he will come." 

These lies about himself were accepted as truth by his listeners. 

"Oh, he must come before he goes, I have so much to talk 
about with him. Besides, the will says the clock, that mysterious 


affair, in less than three months has another secret to divulge. 
Robert should keep it with him." 

"Have you any idea, madam, what that second secret is?" 

Mrs. Waite's face paled. She was too truthful to tell a pointed 
lie, and replied that she had, but that she had rather not speak of 
it. The conversation seemed to have taken a turn that dis- 
tressed her. 

"He may send for it, if he doesn't come himself." 

Louis Palmello's mind was so engrossed with a diabolical 
scheme he had in mind that he hardly gave the clock (which played 
so active a part in his life) a thought, any more than to make up 
his mind it should be sent for during the evening and conveyed to 
the underground den. 

"I will have a treasure there with it, if I am not mistaken. 
It's my turn next, my dear brother. I'll make your heart ache aa 
bad as you have made mine," thought Robert. 

Dorris had glided into the room to Mrs. Waite's great relief, 
for she felt nervous, and was much depressed at the news the sup- 
posed Cuban had brought her. 

Gordon was busy at his hotel arranging for the coming wed- 
ding and immediate departure. Jarl was industriously packing 
trunk after trunk getting them ready to ship. He was not much 
pleased with the prospect of leaving the Chicago levee and his old 
Bowery chum, but his master's word was law. 

The supposed Cuban made only a short stay at the cottage, and 
Gordon had hardly finished laying out the articles of evening dress 
he was intending to wear at his wedding, when he dropped in to 
see if he could be of any assistance, so he claimed. 

"You know, my boy, there are many little things a bridegroom 
might forget, naturally, being a little confused. Now are these the 
articles you are to wear?" 

"Yes, I guess I have about everything out that I need till I 
reach England." 

"You take the 10: 30 p. retrain, do you^not?" 

"Yes, we will just have time to make it after the ceremony." 

"Well, well, I am sure you will be a happy man. You are 
indeed a lucky one." 

"Yes, I am fortunate to possess the love of one so pure, so 
angelic and so noble of heart. She can not bear to pain anyone, 
and the fact that pur happy expectations are, in a certain way, 
derived from the misfortune of my dear brother God bless him ! 
is the only cloud before us. I hope Robert will think better of his 
actions and return to us. Then it will be one long rose-strewn 
path of happiness." 

"Well, believe me, my friend, when I say that I hope you will 
find no thorns along this path of roses." 

"Thank you, Mr. Palmello, for your kind wish. I hope 'it may 
be fulfilled." And they chatted some time, Gordon not once sus- 
pecting the ruse. , 


Meanwhile, Robert, the supposed Cuban, was taking in every 
detail of Gordon's evening dress, and before the sun set he had the 
exact duplicate of them in his rooms. It seemed that two grooms 
were preparing to wed one bride, and such was the case. As Rob- 
ert, he now sent a messenger with a note of farewell to Mrs. Waite 
and Dorris. He also told them that if they wished, they might 
send the clock. And so it came with a motherly and sisterly re- 
sponse from Dorris and her mother. He took the clock with him 
that evening to the den, where it ticked off the minutes and played 
sweet tunes for the amazed members of the "Wit Club." 


Events now followed each other in such rapid succession, events 
so startling and wonderful, that to portray each and every one in 
detail would fill volumes and take years to prepare for the press; 
therefore, the author will be obliged to refer the reader to :he 
newspaper accounts of the "long and short" bandits' bold deeds, led 
by Robert, while he at the same time carried out a diabolical scheme 
which morally was more criminal than robbery or murder, and 
almost too horrible to relate. But facts are stubborn things, and it 
is hard to guide your pen around them. 

It was now the eve of the 7th. There were preparations of all 
kinds going on. Robert, the captain of the "Wits," left instruc- 
tions with number "3" and number "4" to meet him and the "spook" 
near the merchant's store they had planned to hold up at 8 p. m. 
He did this with an object. He knew he could not be there him- 
self, as he had a bigger deal on (as he expressed it to "weazel"), 
but he wished them out of the way when he returned from the 
wedding, for if his cleverly planned scheme succeeded, he would 
bring a blushing bride with him to grace the padded room the 
"weazle" called the "oil room." 

"Oh, we'll be dere, captin, an we'll* show ye whether we ken 
handle de persuaders or not," said numbers "3" and "4." 

"Well, I will see how you handle yourself and then I will tell 
you whether you will do for that kind of work or not." 

So he left them to prepare for their raid on the merchant, 
while he and the "weazle" prepared for something more horrible. 
They talked over their plans before Kit. the "Break-o'-Day-Lass," 
who was now completely at the will of this strange man. She wor- 
shined him like a dog does its master and was willing to do his 
bidding, no matter what. She had in her life pretended love for 
many men, but this was the first time she loved in reality, and to 
him she gave all the love you will find in women of this class. It 
was not a jealous love, for if he could find any pleasure in enjoying 
the favors of another, she was satisfied. She also knew that her 
love was not returned, and now she knew that he was going to 
brine 1 a bride to the den, but she only seemed pleased that she 
could furnish him with an eleeart bridal chamber and her services 
to look after things to promote his pleasure and guard his treasure. 


She was certainly a peculiar woman, and this was a peculiar kind 
of love, something out of the ordinary, still she was a bright. 
clever woman, a woman that had brought some of the best to her 
feet with pockets of gold and burning words to beseech her favors. 
Many a heart she had trampled on and many a life she had ruined ; 
but now she, too, loved, as they had loved, and she realized then- 
feelings. But as she did so, she also made up her mind that she 
would be "game" as she expressed it, and not play the part they 
had many times, causing her to laugh and mock them, while she 
at the same time pitied them for their weakness. No, she would 
be "game." It was only her just deserts. She found she had a 
heart and the finding of it was her punishment. 

Robert saw all of this and made use of her as he would a 
slave. He knew he could trust her, and did. He gave his orders 
to her and the "weazle," and then left. 

"You, Kit, are to stay in to-night and be ready to open that 
door the minute I give you the signal, and you must not receive 
any company to-night; also prepare your boudoir or the 'oil room.' 
or whatever you call it, for one of the daintiest flowers that 
blooms." She winced as he said this and turned to the "weazle." 

"Red, you go and give your friend this $10 for the use of 
his rig tonight, then drive to the 'social' and pick me up. Let 
on that you don't know me. Just stop in front and if anyone is rub- 
bering, just haggle with me like I was some 'mark.' And here 
take this telegram I have prepared for the occasion, and deliver 
it to me when I give you the 'office.' Do you understand?" 


"Well, get your legs to working, and above all things keep 
your mind working and your guns handy, for you may have some 
fighting to do before we land our game safely. And I don't want you 
to be at all stingy with powder. Burn plenty of it if it is neces- 
sary in order to make a clean 'get-away'." 

"All right, captin, I'll make some o' dem guys jump so high 
wid de first shot dat ye' can reach dem wid a second one." 

"Well, I don't care if you make some of them jump so high 
they never come down again, just so I get what we're going 
after; but don't 'croak' anybody unless you have to. When you 
get to the social, throw a couple of drinks under your belt to keep 
you awake. This business of spending all our nights and money 
in gambling houses puts a crimp in our heads as well as in our 

"All right, captin, I'll be dere wid de rig inside of an hour." 

In less time, the "weazle" drove up with the rig (a closed 
carriage with a fast team attached). Robert was talking with a 
levee politician as the "weazle" came swinging in and said to the 

"Give me some o' de best booze ye got, some o' de kind wat 
has about four hundred fights to de barrel." 

"We haven't anything as weak as that, but here is some 16 to 1." 

" '16 t' 1'? Wat ye givin me? 16 t' 1 wat?" 


"Sixteen fights to one drink. If that is too strong for you I 
am sorry, for it is really the weakest we have." 

While they were joking with one another, Rometto and Arlex, 
the detectives, dropped in, and, after looking over the motley 
throng, gathered around the tables in the pavilion at the rear, while 
wild strains of music jollied the silver out of their pockets into the 
cash register behind the bar. They joined the politician and were 
introduced to Robert who posed as Louis Palmello. The conver- 
sation now fell upon a topic that was at this time agitating the 
minds of every merchant and business man in the city the "long 
and short" men. And so it happened that while discussing them, 
they drank with them (for in American style, they invited the 
"vveazle" to join in). The bogus cabman seemed to be pleased at 
his luck to strike a fare and soon drove off with his passenger, 
who was laughing softly to himself. Leaving the rig in charge of 
the "weazle" near by in a clump of trees, Robert, as Palmello, 
presented himself at the house which was ablaze with lights, as 
were the fine grounds in which strolled couples, arm in arm, en- 
joying the air and moonlight, while they waited for the hour set 
for the ceremony. Carriages were coming and going, leaving some 
new arrival to mingle with the others before them, and to discuss 
the coming event which would deprive them of the "lady bounti- 
ful" who had such a hold on the hearts of all that it was hard 
for them to accept the fact of her going out of their lives. Many 
had known her since she was a child and none knew her but to 
love her, for her generosity, nobleness and purity of soul. Gordon, 
who visited many of the doctor's patients with Dorris had also 
won the favor of the neighbors. He was kind and genial to all. 
Dorris and he had planned a feast for all that wished to come 
and bid them good-bye. It was spread under the trees, hung with 
Chinese lanterns. 

It was now twenty minutes to the hour. The minister, Gor- 
don, Dr. Warder and the Cuban were engaged in pleasant chat on 
the veranda when Henry, the man-servant approached with the 
dispatch in his hand. Excusing himself, the Cuban read it and in- 
formed them that he would be obliged to forego the pleasure he 
had anticipated, and leave for the city's center at once. He hastily 
bid them all farewell and started down the steps ; but as if on a 
second thought, he turned and said to Gordon : 

"Oh, I just happened to think of something I wished to say 
regarding your brother. Will you accompany me a few steps along 
the path?" 

Gordon, all unsuspicious, accomoanied him some distance be- 
yond the summer house, and after listening to what he had to say, 
regarding his brother, expressed his regrets that he could not stay, 
and bid him good-night and good-bye, making him promise to visit 
them if he ever came to London. As he started on his way back, 
he was thinking what a pleasant acquaintance he had made, and 
was cudgelling his brain to determine who it was he put him in 
mind of, when all of a sudden everything became blank and he 


fell forward on his face. The friend of his thoughts had crept 
back and dealt him a blow from behind with a sandbag. Dragging 
the limp form from the path, he inserted a gag in the mouth, then 
tied the feet and hands. Leaving him thus secured, he went to the 
hack and quickly made the necessary chance in order to appear 
as much like the unconscious man as possible. He returned to the 
house, only stopping to gain possession of the wedding ring and 
the rose on Gordon's coat, which he pinned to his own. As he 
entered, he imitated Gordon's voice and every little action so 
cleverly that none suspected the fraud being perpetrated upon 
them. As he took his place at the blushing girl's side and the 
minister in solemn tones began to read the marriage ceremony, 
they noted his pallor, but thought is was only natural under the 
circumstances. Dorris never once raised her eyes to the pale face 
above her pale more from the confinement in prison and the subse- 
quent too frequent application of drugs than emotion. His eyes 
noted everything and he chafed inwardly as the holy man showly 
and solemnly proceeded with the ceremony, until he came to the 
usual question: "Now are there any present who know any reason 
why I should not pronounce these two, man and wife?" He looked 
through his glasses at almost every person in succession (so it 
seemed to Robert) then glanced out of the door and windows, 
which opened on the veranda where the country folk were crowd- 
ing to get a look at their "lady bountiful" in her bridal robes, 
which would have been better for her and those who loved her 
so, were they instead her shroud. Not a sound broke the silence. 
But just as the minister repeated the question, there was a sudden 
commotion on the veranda. The next moment all was in confusion 
for a man in full evening dress (the exact counterpart of that 
which the bridegroom wore), a man with face and shirt front 
streaked with blood, forced his way in. He was dazed and weak, 
but comprehended all the moment his eyes fell upon Robert. Then 
there was a scene of the direst confusion. Women fainted, men 
grew white to the lips, and knew not what to do, for they could 
not understand it. Gordon raised his hand and tried to speak. 

"Yes, there is reason and good reason for I and not he " 

His voice could hardly be heard, but Dorris caught the sound 
and with a scream glanced at the man at her side, then rushed into 
Gordon's arms, whose blood mingled with the lace at her bosom, as 
he pressed her to his heart. Pointing his finger at Robert, he con- 
tinued : 

"Your horrible scheme has failed ! Thank God for the deliver- 
ance! He sent me in time to save this pure girl's honor. Now 
go and pray that God may forgive you, for I never can !" 

"Oh, you must have been trying to commit suicide, I guess, 
from the looks of you, and it has made you crazy," Robert re- 

"No, you are mistaken ; but you tried to commit murder, and 
play even the part of Cain. In a moment more you would have 
committed an act worse than murder. Go from my sight before I 


forget myself and raise my hand against you. You do not merit 
the clemency I am willing to show you. But there is the door. 
Go ! and leave us in peace to continue this ceremony !" 

"Yes, I w_ill go, and I'll take my bride with me." 

"But she is not your bride, thank God for that!" 

"It would be better then that she was my bride," he sneeringly 
replied, "for I will take her with me, though it costs a dozen lives 
to do it!" 

As he spoke, fire flew from his eyes. He drew a small 
silver whistle from his pocket and signalled for his con" 
federate on the outside. _ The shrill note hardly struck the air 
when a figure bounded into the room with a revolver in each 
hand. He ordered the assemblj' to throw up their hands and 
stand back, with curses that would disgrace the lowest bar-room. 
Gordon paid no heed to the terrorizing Red, but sprang toward 
Robert, crying, 

"Not satisfied with what you have done, you would insult her 
in my presence." 

"Well, if you don't like to see her insulted, I will just put 
you to sleep so you won't know anything about it," he brutally 

Dorris tried to prevent it, but too late. He dealt Gordon a 
stunning blow as he advanced to resent the insult to her. Already 
weak from the loss of blood, he now fell. Dorris then threw her- 
self down beside him with a heart-breaking cry, thinking that he 
was dead. Her cry burst into a shriek a moment later as Robert's 
strong arm encircled her slender waist. Lifting her bodily from 
the floor, he started for the door, but the doctor and several others 
who had now just begun to realize that some great wrong was 
being done endeavored to stop him. Seeing this, he drove a couple 
of shots into the wall just above their heads. This was the si.smal 
for the "weazel," and he also turned his weapons loose. Mrs. 
Waite now fainted, .as had many of the other ladies. The doctor 
just caught her in time to save her from^ a hard fall. All was 
jiow confusion. Many thought Mrs. Waite had been shot, and 
screams rent the air, blue with the volleys he fired from both 
mouth and pistols. When the smoke _ cleared a little, they saw 
that the desperadoes were gone, and with them Dorris. The doc- 
tor had his hands full, but he found time to explain to Henry, 
the coachman, who now came running in, how matters were, and 
advised him to get some assistance and follow. Many of the 
gentlemen guests now just beginning to comprehend matters joined 
him in pursuit. They were able to keen the fleeing parties in sight 
by now and then catching a glimpse of the robe she wore. Then all 
of a sudden this disappeared as they drew near a dark obiect 
among the trees a carriage door slammed, a smothered shriek, 
then a quick cluck-cluck to the restless horses, a rumble of wheels 
thev were too late. 

Starting back to the house, they stumbled on an apparently 
lifeless form. It was Jarl, who, seeing his old enemy skulking 


around the grounds, had come out to find him, and, from the ap- 
pearance, it would seem that he had done so. But he did not 
find him until after he had found and released his master. They 
carried him into the house where the doctor was working over 
Gordon, with good results for soon he was on his feet. Dashing 
off a glass of wine, he asked a few hurried questions of the doctor, 
who was now working over Jarl, telling him to take the best of 
care of his man, and requesting some of the others to telephone 
to the police stations. He rushed out hatless and selecting a swift 
looking animal from the many that lined the road way, he cut the 
harness loose and was in the act of mounting when a voice hailed 
him. It was Henry, the Waite's colored man. 

"I say, massa Gordon, I's er gwine wid ye and yere is two 
big cannons I dun scared up in the stable. Here is one of dem. 
We mus sabe poor missy." 

"Yes, we must save her, or die in the attempt, for the fate 
she is going to is worse than death. Cut that other horse loose. 
He looks like a swift animal. I'm off. You can follow." 

He dug his heels into the spirited animal's flanks and was off 
like a shot in hot pursuit. 

The whole affair, as terrible as it was to these God-fearing 
people, had taken only a few moments, and a cloud of dust, raised 
by the bandit's team could still be seen down the long stretch of 
highway. By urging his horse to the highest rate of speed he was 
soon within hailing distance, but he was afraid to* shoot at the hack. 
By hard riding he was now within a few yards of it, another spurt 
and he was alongside. Shoving the big revolver up towards the 
driver, he ordered him to halt. The answer was the crack-crack 
of a pistol. His horse reared and fell into the ditch, pinning him 
down to earth. Keeping his head, he sent after the driver bullet 
upon bullet. All went wide for he was fearful that he might hit 
his love within. He tried in vain to extricate himself from under 
the dying horse. His leg was pinned fast. Hark! what was that? 
The far-off muffled beat of hoofs, nearer and nearer, plainer and 
plainer. At last, a single horse and rider came to view. It was 
Henry, the colored man. He was coming like the wind. Gordon 
shouted his name at the top of his voice to attract his attention, 
but it was entirely unnecessary for the horse, on seeing his mate 
struggling in the agony of death by the roadside, stopped so sud- 
denly as to spill his rider over his head, who landed in a sitting 
posture, more surprised than hurt. Bounding to his feet like a 
rubber ball, he caught the horse by the bit. As he did so, he heard 
and saw Gordon. The horse had ended his struggles for breath. 
The whole dead weight was upon his limb, and he could hardly 
crawl after Henry released him. Taking a pocket full of 44 
cartridges and the other pistol from the colored man, he mounted 
the impatient horse and with a hard look on his generally kind 
face, set off at a break-neck pace to continue the chase, leaving the 
surprised negro standing in the middle of the road, looking after 
him, muttering: 


"Well, but he do make dat ole boss teah up the grable, but wat 
is 1 1' do ? I must help t' save Missus, but I shuah can't ride a dead 

It was dark here by the dead beast and his natural superstition 
drove him from the spot. He followed the road back a half mile 
which brought him to a house where he was known. He plodded 
in here, but when he came forth, it was on the back of a black colt, 
one pocket lighter by a half month's pay, another made heavier by 
an extra pistol. 


As he turned into the road, a horse passed him like a rocket. It 
was Jarl. He was bending low in the saddle in regular jockey 
fashion, digging his heels into the flanks of his foam-flecked steed at 
every jump. The black colt, with his black rider, who was pos- 
sessed of a white heart and nerve to match, took the dust for half 
a mile, then drew alongside. They hailed each other, then rode neck 
to neck, while the colored man told him of Gordon's accident and 
narrow escape. 

Meantime Gordon had lessened the distance considerable. He 
re-loaded the revolver as he rode, one limb hanging almost help- 
less. He was gaining rapidly. Riding directly behind the hack he 
stooped low and sent a couple of shots under the rig, hoping to 
break one of the animal's legs. He missed. Digging his heels in 
his horse, he dashed alongside the swaying vehicle. Then there was 
another rapid exchange of shots. The horse he rode jumped into 
the air and ran away for almost a half mile, then suddenly dropped 
dead in its tracks. Now was his chance. He was ahead of them. 
Dropping down behind the poor dead brute, he waited. Soon he 
could hear the rumble of wheels. A moment later, he could plainly 
see Red as he urged the team, reeking with sweat, around the bend. 
They were now close enough to reach with a shot, but he would 
not take the risk. A bullet for the team or driver might reach her, 
for he was well aware of the fact that he was not an expert marks- 
man, and lay perfectly still till they were upon him. The driver, 
who held a pistol in one hand while he drove with the other, at- 
tempted to pull around the two forms, when one of them sprang to 
life. 'Gordon grasped the near horse by the bridle and a gun flashed 
in the moonlight. Then there was an order_to halt or meet death. 
The only response was the crack of the driver's weapon. Just at 
this moment, the team almost jerked Gordon from his feet This 
probably saved his^ life, for Red had shot to kill._ Gordon now fired 
three shots in rapid succession. He saw the driver spring into the 
air and pitch forward between the horses. Robert now showed his 
hand. He jumped from the vehicle, leaving Dorris unconscious 
within. Gathering up the reins, he sprang into the driver's seat. 
There was the crack of a pistol from this expert marksman. He 



had shot Gordon's hand from the bridle. The horses went tearing 
down the road, carrying the limp form of the "weazle" dangling 
over the pole between them with his feet caught in the whipple- 
trees. Gordon could not bear to shoot at his brother, but sent a 
shot after the team which only seemed to increase their speed. 
Baffled! It seemed that fate was against him. What could he do 
now? It was a lonely stretch of road without a habitation of any 
kind in sight. His last hope was gone. He examined his hand. 
The bullet had ploughed a furrow a-cross the palm. He tried to 
walk. The effort caused him to fall from weakness and pain. As 
he became aware of the fact that he would not be able to rescue 
her from the awful fate she was being carried so swiftly to and he 
realized that his last hope was gone, his strength went with it. 
The team had dragged him some distance from the dead animal 
so he now dragged himself to one side of the road, where he lay 
sick and miserable. But new strength was born as he a few min- 
utes later heard the faint clatter of hoofs, nearer and nearer, louder 
and louder. It was music to his ears, for this held out another 
hope. He staggered to his feet, just as two horsemen came in view 
around the bend, riding at full speed, with their heads down a 
black man and a white man. Could it be ? Yes, thank God ! It 
was Henry and his faithful man, Jarl. Henry seeing the dark object 
lying there before them in the road, remembered the header he had 
taken only a short time before, and reined in before the other who 
tore on by the dark object and brought his perspiring steed to a 
halt near Gordon, who made his presence known by a glad shout 
as he staggered towards them. 


"Yes, my faithful fellow, it is I. Thank God you are here. 
Waste no time, but tell me which one of the horses is the swiftest." 

"Henry's seems to be." 

Hfenry now drew up and greeted Gordon with genuine pleasure, 
for he had expected to find him lying along the road a corpse. 

"Henry, which horse do you consider is the swiftest and less 
winded?" " 

"Well, Massa Gordon, I specs as mine is, and if yuh wants im' 
he is youahs shuah den election." 

They helped him onto the back of the black colt, which almost 
bounded from under him as he plied his heels and gave him the 
rein. Although a bad shot, he was a good horseman, and was soon 
leaving Jarl to follow in the rear, while he in turn left poor Henry 
behind and he widened the distance between him and the dead horse 
at every jump as he bounded along until his superstitious fear left 
him. Then he fell into a dog trot which soon brought him in sight 
of a house set far back from the road. The whole family were at 
the gate, discussing the firing they had heard and the reckless riders 
whom they saw pass. Henry explained matters to the head of the 
family and asked him if he had a horse he could spare. 

"Wai, I only got one, and he's mighty skittish. Don't know 


as you could handle him. Ain't been out of the stable for nigh 
onto a week. 'Sides, who is to be responsible for him?" 

"Mrs. Waite, my old Misses.. She'll be 'sponsible foah 'im, an 
if he is killed, she'll sure give ye twice wat de hoss am worf, an 
here is ten dollars foah de use ob him." 

"No, I will not take anything for the use of him. We folks 
know Miss Dorris." 

"Yes, pa, and she is an angel. Get the horse quick, for she 
was good to us when we were sick and needy." 

The old man soon appeared with the animal. Henry had some 
difficulty in mounting, but when he did at last land in the saddle, 
he had no time to thank them, for the restless animal had cleared 
the green strip of grass that skirted the road and was tearing down 
it like mad. 

"Well, dis am my third hoss t' -night. I wonder if I'se got ter 
give dis one up, too. Well, if it would help pooah Missy, I would 
give up all de hosses I could earn in all my life, for she am a good 
lady an has been a good Missus to me. I hope no hahm come t' 
her! Pooah ole Missus wud go plum crazy shuah if dar did. I 
hopes I'll be in time to help Massa Gordon. He looks like a bloody 
ghost. God A'mighty if he aint got more sand dan I ever thought 
he had. Golly, but can't he ride a horse though ! He sure thinks 
a heap of Miss Dorris." Thus musing, he tore along. 

How is it faring with our heroine? She was lying back on the 
cushions still in an unconscious condition, brought about by Robert, 
who had first chloroformed her, then forced between her pearly 
teeth a few drops of the "knock-out" portion he had secured from 
"Butch" in London. Robert was still on the box urging the fatigued 
horses to do their best. The "weazle" he had pulled up on the seat 
beside him. He had only been stunned, but he was still dazed and 
unable to handle the reins. 

They heard the clatter of the horses behind them. On looking 
back they recognized Gordon who was riding like mad toward 
them, his fresh steed gaining rapidly on the jaded ones. Red swore 
and said: 

"Say, look a here captin, I'm kind o' off my feed t'-night, an it 
aint no 'cinch' dat I knows wat I'm speilling about. But aint dat 
de same guy a comin dere de one wat looked jes like yuse wid 
yer war paint off?" 


"Well, he kin win my coin fer he is a sure enough 'spook.' I 
have croaked 'im twice t'-night already an made cold meat o' his 
hoss twice, a hoss wat he was ridin like mad. But still dere he 
is brought back t' life again. Wat'll I do wid 'im? Ye can't 
kill 'im !" 

"Weil, don't try to kill the rider unless you have to, for I have 
a worse fate in store for him, but kill the horse by all means." 


"But I tells yuse, ye can't do it. He'll bring it t' life again, 
sure. He must have some way o' pumpin wind in t' de brute." 

"Well, you drive and I will pump the wind out of the brute. 
He is no 'spook.' " 

At this moment a bullet tore up the dust under the horses' feet 
and a voice cried for them to halt or the next one should find a 
home in one of their bodies. The answer he got was in the shape 
of a bullet from Robert's pistol, which burned its way clear through 
his poor beast's heart. This was followed by another and an- 
other in quick succession. The handsome animal stopped, trem- 
bled a moment and died before it reached the ground. Gordon 
cleared his back and watched the beautiful beast sorrowfully as he 
waited for Jarl to come up ; but when he did arrive, he found his 
master unconscious from the loss of blood. Jarl raised his head 
and poured some liquor from a flask down his parched throat. On 
recovering consciousness he tried to mount Jarl's horse, but was too 

"I will go, master. You are too weak to sit in the saddle. You 
lie here an rest till I return or send somebody." 

But not until he had tried to mount again and again and had 
slipped off into the dust did he give up and say, "Very well, go. 
Save her if you can. Bring her to me to-night and I will make you 
master of a fortune. Do you hear?" 

"Yes, I hear, master, but it hurts me here in my heart t' have 
ye say that. Ye know I'd give up my life fer your sake alone." 

"I know, but I hardly know what I say. Of course you would. 
But go, and send me news soon. The suspense is worse than bullet 
wounds. Go save her !" 

Gordon fell to the ground from weakness. Placing his master 
in a comfortable position, Jarl continued the chase where Gordon 
was obliged to leave off. But Jarl had been gone only a few 
moments when his master began to feel stronger. He now wanted 
to be in action again. 

"If I only had a horse I believe I could ride now. Hark! 
What is that?* 

He soon ^ saw that it was the colored man mounted on a fast 
horse. The rider tried to pull us as he drew near the dark objects in 
front of him. The horse stopped altogether too sudden, and the sur- 
prised darkey turned a complete somersault in the air, landing in a 
sitting posture as before, his legs sprawled wide apart, his hand 
extended to Gordon with a half grin, while he said, "Shake, Massa 
Gordon, ye aint a gwine ter lose dis chicken as long as dere is any 
horse flesh around dese heah parts." 

"You are a faithful and brave fellow, Henry, but you must 
catch your steed or there will certainly be no horse flesh around 
these parts." 

He easily caught the animal, for it would not desert the fallen 
one, and he had to lead him down the road out of the sight of the 
dead brute before he could get Gordon mounted and away once 
more on his perilous journey. Three times he had given up the 


living to be left with the dead. He stood in the middle of the road 
for a moment scratching his head, while he looked around in every 
direction with the expression of a martyr. 

"Well, it am a good ting, an I wuz jus a-tinking as how I wuz 
a-goin ter catch up wid dem debils that's got poor Miss Dorris, an 
cut enough sandwiches off on em ter feed all de coons in town, an 
heh I is wid nothin but ma legs. But, gol durn it, I'll jes use dem." 

And off he started on a run to follow Gordon, who was urging 
the darkey's horse along towards the red glare of lights from the 
great city in the distance, which made a picturesque spot on the 
sky._ On, on, Gordon flew! At times it was almost impossible to 
retain his seat in the saddle. He was dizzy and weak and unfit to 
proceed, but he realized if he did not save her to-night, to-morrow 
would be too late to save her from dishonor. If it had been death 
he was trying to save her from, he could not have exerted himself 
more than he was now doing to save her from what he considered 
worse than death. His fresh steed soon overtook that of Jarl, and 
master and man rode side by side. They began to pass habitations. 
The lights still gleamed from some. They were fast nearing the 
city. Many people ran to the door or gate to look after the flying 
horsemen. Gordon's saddle girth broke and they were obliged to 
halt. It was only a short time before they were again on their way, 
but had proceeded only a short distance when they heard a commo- 
tion behind them. It was the plucky darkey. Astride of a long 
limbed, clean cut animal which looked a "lakeside favorite," he 
passed them with a shout and took the lead for some distance, but 
this burst of speed soon gave out and he was forced to fall back 
with the others. Gordon's horse now shot ahead and kept the lead. 
The houses were becoming thicker and thicker. They also once in 
a while passed a late pedestrian who stopped and stared after them 
in astonishment as they dashed by and clattered out of sight. Gor- 
don's heart beat high with hope as after a few moments more of 
hard riding they came in sight of the vehicle which contained a 
treasure dearer than his life itself, and he was determined to save 
her, even at the price of it. 

The chase was now soon over. As they drew near, the hack 
stopped and the tired beasts for the first time had a short rest. As 
Gordon and his men drew near, they noticed that the abductors 
had drawn their horses across the road, completely blocking it, 
while they stood near them with drawn revolvers and the uncon- 
scious form of Dorris between them and their pursuers. She 
served as a protection for them as well as the team. The scheme 
worked well, for when^ the first fusillade of shots was over, the 
carriage was riddled with bullets while the team, driver and late 
occupants were unharmed. Red had recognized his old enemy, Jarl, 
and he shot to kill. The faithful fellow tumbled in the dust, while 
his horse turned and clattered back along the road they came by. 
The darkey's horse was now shot from under him. He landed on 
his feet with the agility of a cat and started on a run at them, but 
he, poor fellow, bit the dust before he had taken a dozen steps. 


Gordon urged his horse -forward, and was now almost upon them. 
He bent forward and was taking careful aim at Red, when his gun 
was shot from his grasp (as it had the night on the lake front.) 
Then shot after shot was poured into the breast of his steed, which 
lurched forward, almost trampling on its slayers. Gordon was 
again pinned down by the dead. Red ran up and relieved him of 
his other pistol and would have rapped him on the head with it if 
Robert had not interfered. 

"No, let him live, his life belongs to me._ I want him to hear 
the jester's bells. Do you hear them jingling, my virtuous 

"Robert, have pity on her! For the love of God, send her 
back to her mother !" 

"No, I will not send her back for the love of God, but instead 
I will take her for the love of her. Look, my dear brother! Do 
you not think I love her? Watch me as I press a kiss upon her 
sweet lips." 

He pressed his lips to those of Dorris, who was still uncon- 
scious nd was supported by his arm. 

Gordon tried to free himself, but in vain. 

"O, you fiend! and to think that we are of the same father!" 

Robert sneered in reply. 

"Yes, and it is a pity we could not have been of the same 

Paying no attention to this taunt, Gordon inquired, "You fiend, 
what do you intend to do with Dorris?" 

"You remember what I told you about its being my turn next? 
Well, my turn has come, and I am going to make the most of it 
and enjoy all the favors this beautiful dream of innocence has to 
give. As my wife, she shall grace an American home, not an Eng- 
lish one." 

"Better that she should grace her coffin !" 

"Well, you shall never see her again, so we will not stop to 
argue the question. Here, number "2," mount that box and drive 
like the devil was after you !" 

Red mounted the box, while Robert replaced the girl's uncon- 
scious form upon the cushions in the vehicle. Gordon made a des- 
perate struggle to release his limb, but of no avail, he was pinned 

"No, no, Robert," he cried out. "You don't mean what you 
say? You can't mean anything so horrible as you propose!" 

"You still think I am jesting, do you? You don't hear any 
jester's bells jingling, do you?" 

"Robert, mock me if you will ; but for the love of God have pity 
on that innocent child!" 

"Have pity, you say? But that is an article I am just out of. 
Ta-ta, my Christian brother, ta-ta, I will have to leave you now 
for a short honeymoon. Meantime, you can tell your troubles to 
the horse. It is a horse on you this time! Ah-ha-ha-ha !" 

Gordon groaned. 


"Hurry up wid yer roast, fer dere's a lot o' people rubberin 
down dis way," Red broke in. 

_"Well, good-bye, brother. I see there are a lot of bluecoats 
coming down the hill, so I will leave you. You can tell you trou- 
bles to them when they come up." 

"Robert, have pity! Don't ruin " 

The slamming of the carriage door drowned this last appeal. 

"O God ! How can such a wrong be permitted !" he moaned. 

The carriage soon disappeared and with it his last hope of sav- 
ing his love from the fate in store for her. 

Some mounted police soon came galloping up and curious peo- 
ple gathered from all directions. In a weak voice he explained 
matters. Some went in pursuit, while others cared for the wounded 
men, taking them to the nearest house a quarter of a mile away. 
The doctor was soon on hand. The darkey was wounded in three 
places. Jarl was shot only in the shoulder, and was soon clamor- 
ing to join his master who was preparing to depart; but the doctor 
made him lie quiet while he extracted a bullet and dressed the 
wound. He also advised Gordon to rest awhile, but it was useless 
to argue the question with him. Washing the blood from his per- 
son, then borrowing a hat and a horse, he set out in the wake of the 
bluecoats whom he met returning. They had lost track of the bold 
abductors who had too much of a start. He was so impatient to be 
off in pursuit that he hardly waited to hear the last words of expla- 
nation of the officers. He sped on to the city of wicked ways but 
of no use. There were many streets leading off the one they were 
on, any one of which they might have taken. He got rid of his horse 
and haunted the downtown districts all night He called at the hotel 
only to find that his brother had left, they did not know where. All 
day he hunted, but no trace of them could be found. Mrs. Waite 
was almost frantic with grief and Gordon's heart lay like a lump 
of lead in his bruised breast. 

Meantime, poor. Dorris was lying bereft of her wedding finery 
upon the lace-bedecked bed in the padded chamber of the under- 
ground den, while Kit cared for her and watched her in admiration 
and wonder at the great beauty she saw there. She was sleeping 
under the effects of the drug like a tired child. What would the 
awakening be? 


Number "3" and number "4," according to the captain's orders, 
presented themselves at West Madison and Center streets at 8 
o'clock. They had stopped on the way over at Roger's place, a 
well-known sporting resort, and here they indulged in a few rounds 
of drinks to clear their heads and stimulate their nerves, for, as they 
said to one another, "We want to do a smooth job and show de 
captin dat we can line em up an cop de dirty stuff jest as slick as 
de next un. We'll show 'im dat we are strictly in it. He said as 


he wants t' see our gait. We'll show 'im a gait dat he can't keep 
up wid, ef it comes t' a showdown?" So they discussed the pro- 
posed robbery in a low tone over their drinks. It was now ten min- 
utes after the hour set when they were to meet the "spook," the 
"weazel" and the captain, but of course neither appeared. They 
waited patiently for fully a half hour, still no one appeared. 

"Say, number tree, I tink we are jest being stuck up, dey have 
jest made er monkey of us." 

"I begin t' tink so meself. D'y know wat I tink? Well, I'm 
tinkin dem guys have been troin de con into us." 

"Well, dat's Wat I tink, too, an we're a couple o' birds t' let 
em trow de con into us like dat. I tink de 'weazle' is getting 
swelled on himself. We'd better go an hold up a cooper shop an 
take some hoops home t' 'im. I'll tell you one ting, an dat aint 
two, ef we had some one on de outside to stall off de cops an keep 
our git-a-way clear, we'd take someting else besides hoops home t' 
show em." 

"Wat d'y mean?" 

"Wy go an hold de store up jest de same and show dem guys 
dat dey aint in it wid de colts." 

"Yes, it'd be a good scheme." 

"Well, I guess dey have kind o' fixed it fer us t'-night. We 
can't turn a wheel ; but say, ef dey aint de 'long and short' guys, 
who in de world are dey?" 

"Well, I can't tink of anybody unless it might be Clarence 
White. Ye know we heard some talk down de line about it an dey 
seemed t' tink as it wuz him an some odder guy wat does de stall 
act while dey as de 'long an short' go in an stick em up an cop 
tie coin." 

"Well, I tink dem guys wat were speelin dis kind o' talk t' us 
were off dere base, for I know_ Clarence White Better dan any o' 
dem shoestrings an I know he aint out fer dat kind o' graft. He's 
got nerve enough all right, but I happen t' know dat he's been 
pullin an honest oar ever since dem 'Jimmy Milkweeds' croaked his 
brother. Yes, an wat's more, he'll keep on pullin de same oar ef de 
West Side elbows'll let 'im. But dey have got it in fur 'im an dey 
pinch 'im every time t he bats his eye on de street." 

"Well, an dat's jest wat makes me tink it's 'im. He probably 
tinks ef he is goin t' have de name he might as well have de game." 

"Oh, yer crazy! Where have ye been smokin, anyway? Wat 
time is it?" 


"Well, we'll wait five minutes longer an ef dem guys don't 
show up, we'll blow back to de den an take de roast we got comin." 

"No, we'll jest fool em. We'll show em dat dey didn't steer 
us on a dead un after all, fer here comes de kids, Dene and Mire." 

The four worthies met and, after talking a few moments, num- 
ber ''3" and number _ "4" looked up and down the street. Seeing 
nothing of the captain or Red, they crossed over. After walking 
a couple of times by the merchant's store they had intended to hold 


up they stopped near by and waited. As they stood there looking at 
one another in a sort of uncertain, undecided way, a bicyclist, wear- 
ing a red sweater, rode up. Dismounting on the walk, he looked 
up and down and then at his wheel. Approaching number "3" and 
number "4," he asked them if they would keep an eye on it while 
he stepped inside. 

"Sure ting, we'll keep our lamps on it, an while yer in dere, 
jest ask em wat time dey close. We are waitin fer a gal wat works 
in dere." 

"All right, I will find out for you." 

The bicyclist passed into the store and soon returned with a 
small package in his hand. He was a man of middle age and appar- 
ently of means. Before he mounted his wheel he thanked them and 
informed them that the closing time was 9 o'clock. Haiading them 
a cigar apiece, he rode away. Number "3" and number "4" waited 
a few moments more for their confederates in crime while they 
talked in a low tone. It was now 8 : 50. They waited no longer. 

"Come on, number tree, we'll take a chance anyway. I aint 
goin back dere t' get de laugh." 

Number "3" hesitated a moment and said: 

"D' ye tink dem guys we got framed up here on de outside '11 
stand de clip an not get rattled?" 

"Sure ting, come on." 

Number "3" then followed his pal. As to what followed this, 
we will refer the reader to the following headlines taken from 
the daily papers. As this narrative is founded mostly on facts, 
it seems only proper that we should refer to some of the 
facts in this way. Back numbers of all Chicago newspapers will 
corroborate many assertions made in this tale of the notorious 
"long and short" bandits during the great carnival of crime which 
held Chicago in a grip of terror. 

Thomas J. Marshall, a merchant, is fatally shot ! 


Perpetrators of the shocking crime make their 
escape on West Madison Street, etc. 



Then followed columns of matter pertaining to this last Hold- 
up and the many others supposedly by the notorious bandits, whose 
operations helped Chicago to earn the name of "Wicked City" 
throughout the entire world. 



At midnight number "3" and number "4" came creeping into 
the den with white faces and a look in them that had never been 
there before. They found Kit dressing the bullet wound in the 
"weazle's" scalp, their captain was leaning back in a lazy chair, 
brought from above by Kit. As the new-comers entered, he looked 
at them sharply and said : 

"You fellows haven't been out 'hitting the pipe' have you?" 

"No, we went where you told us to " 

"Ah, yes, I had forgotten for the moment. Sorry, boys, that 
we had to spoil your fun to-night, but number "2" and number 
"1" got mixed up before we got there and had to call it off, but we 
will play a date over there to-morrow and you are in it." 

They did not for some reason seem very much elated at this 
prospect. Robert noticed it and also the white faces. 

"Say, number "2," now honest, I think you colts are up against 
the pipe." 

"Oh, dat's nothin. Dey sneak around on Clark street and take 
a long draw once in a while, only dey " 

"Oh, wat ye stuff in de captin like dat for," they interrupted, 
"yuse know we don't hit de 'dope' but we do hit de 'boose' once 
in a while. Where's de bottle?" 

"On de table, help yerself." 

"We'll jest take a drink an hit de bunk for we are about 
blowed. But say, old pal, whose been tryin t' clip yer hair wid 
a singer?" 

"Dat aint no hair-cut. Ye see an Injin tried t' scalp me." 

"Wat ye givin us? Wat Injin?" 

Red replied with a grin, "Ye two fellers knows de sign dat 
stands in front o' de cigar store at " 

"Oh, stow it, yer tryin to kid somebody now. I tink ye been 
up against de 'dope' yerself, an up against it pretty strong, too. 
Well, good-night, captin, we're goin to pound our ear an dream 
out a few 'policy numbers'." 

They slept, and their slumber, true enough, was disturbed by 
dreams, but not by policy numbers. Instead it was of blood rivers 
of it. These dreams were so vivid that they woke up at intervals 
cursing themselves for disobeying the captain. 

One said to the other: "Wat did ye take them Kid guys 
we met in with us for? Ye might have knowd as dey would get 
rattled and turn dere guns loose when dere was no need of it. 
Well, I'm glad it want us wat did it." 

The others retired. Robert, the arch fiend, locked the door 
that led to the padded chamber and innocence beyond. It was late 
the following day when Dorris came to and looked around her, 
wondering where she was, and wondering at the strange feeling 
which possessed her. She lay trying to corral her scattered senses 


when the door opened and Kit appeared. The woman had her 
instructions from Robert and followed them. 

"Ah, good morning, Mrs. Long, your husband has gone away 
to look after some matters concerning yourself and his brother 
and he left instructions that you should lie perfectly quiet until 
his return. Yon have been very sick." 

In a confused way she inquired, "My husband you mean ?" 

"Mr. Gordon Long." 

She sighed and a look of relief came . over her face. She 
asked many questions, but the only reply to them was : 

"You wait until your husband comes. He will explain all." 

And with this she had to be satisfied, but she could jiot un- 
derstand it. Where was her darling mother, and why was she 
in this peculiar looking room. As her gaze wandered around it, 
she noticed that there were many handsome paintings, mostly 
nude art. They seemed to suggest something, for with a blush 
she now asked another question in a hesitating way. 

"A nd, Gordon, my husband, was he here last evening?" 

"Oh, yes, to be sure ; and left you in my care. Providing 
he does not return to-night and you become lonesome, I will drop 
in and sit with you, if you wish," Kit said in a kindly tone of voice. 

"You seem to be kind, and it would please me very much to 
have you. Some way, I'm afraid, of what I don't know, but things 
seem hardly as they should be. There are so many things I don't 
understand. My head is confused, and I feel strange, but surely 
it must be all right as long as I am with my husband. Still there 

"There now, Mrs. Long," Kit interrupted, "don't worry or talk 
too much. Try and content yourself till he comes. There are 
many things I do not understand myself, but he will doubtless 
explain when he arrives. You have a very good husband. He 
certainly will let no harm befall you." 

This peculiar woman really pitied her, but she was the slave 
to Robert's will, bound with fetters too tightly welded to be torn 
asunder. She felt that she must obey him. There was no ques- 
tion in her mind of doing otherwise. If she had been as faithful 
to herself as to this man, who cared naught for her, she would 
have been a truly good woman. 

Dorris, uneasy, but forced to be content, managed to pass the 
day. The last thing she saw at night when she dropped off into 
a troubled sleep was Kit, who was removing the tea tray. _ Little 
did she dream that in the dregs at the bottom of this gold-trimmed 
cup were the remnants of what caused this sudden sleepiness and 
subsequent complete unconsciousness. This was a scene enacted 
many times, followed later by the entrance of Robert, who gazed 
down on her loveliness, taking in every detail of the perfect form 
with his passion-inflamed eyes, before starting out on his nightly 

Once he muttered, "My revenge would be almost complete if 
I had Gordon in that rat pit where he could witness my triumph. 


It seemed he held the winning cards and was playing them 
with great satisfaction while the devil coached him on, down 
the ladder a moral degenerate descends, even to the last round, 
knee-deep in corruption and sin, a depth of corruption and sin from 
which there is no escape. 

During the days that followed, Dorris, although strong and 
healthy, felt a languor and stupor she could not explain or shake 
off. On the third day, as Gordon did not appear, she became de- 
termined to leave this place and return home to her mother. She 
was satisfied that something was wrong, and not as it should be, 
but what? She would see. She expressed her intentions to Kit, 
who at once informed Robert. He coolly told her to inform Dor- 
ris of the truth, that she was a prisoner. This she did, but her 
heart smote her as she saw the look on that innocent face. 

"My husband, where is he?" she cried. 

Kit looked at her pityingly as she forced the lie from her lips. 
"He was here with you the first day, then he left, as I told you. 
When he returned yesterday, you were asleep and he gave me 
orders to keep you a prisoner, if necessary until he returned again." 

"And when vyill that be?" 

Kit was trying to make the blow as light as possible, so 
replied, "My poor girl, I hope soon, but he did not say. He only 
told me to keep you a prisoner until his return and by all means 
allow no one to see you. I think he was afraid somebody was 
going to try to abduct you. He certainly loves you. Try to be 
content, it may not be long." 

But many days passed in the same manner as the three former 
ones, and there was not a day but that she prayed to her keeper 
to release her. She even tried to bribe Kit by offering a large 
sum which she could easily procure, once released. But Kit was 
obdurate. She was faithful to her master and would not betray 
his trust by depriving him of a pleasure she could not replace. 
When Dorris' jailer was out of the room, she spent her time ex- 
amining the padded walls for some means of escape, from what, 
she knew not, but it was useless. She would fall on her knees 
to pray. Many times Kit found her thus occupied, and then would 
look pityingly at her pretty fingers, the nails all torn and bleeding. 
tearing at the padded walls. So grew to love her charge, and many 
times this fallen woma^ would press a kiss on the sleeping 
girl's grieved lips, which a thoughtful and far-away look 
on her not unpleasant face. Doubtless she thought of the 
day when she was a country lass, as pure in thought as 
her beautiful charge. She could almost sniff the air from 
the green fields and see the poor old father and mother, 
the tears streaming down their honest, weather-stained faces as 
they bid her good-bye and wished her God-soeed on her way 
to the great city to find honest employment. This failed and like 
thousands of others, she fell, then became what she now is a 
female outlaw, and one of the boldest confidence women in the 
United States. But this life was beginning to become distasteful 


to her. Many times a far-away look could be seen in her beautiful 
eyes, and she often wondered how the old folks were at home. 
She mentally determined to some day lay aside her finery and, 
clothed in plain, but neat, garb make their old hearts glad by a 
visit. A strange character indeed, but compared with the character 
of Robert, it could not be termed so. 


A month passed. Gordon was still working night and day in 
his endeavors to find some trace of Dorris, but in vain. She had 
disappeared as completely as though the earth had swallowed her 
up. Detectives Arlex and Rometto were working faithfully on the 
case, but every clew they unearthed and followed led to no practi- 
cal results as yet. One thing they were positive of, she was still 
in the city, and upon the strength of this supposition Gordon, who 
placed a great deal of confidence in their opinion, haunted the 
business centers and levee districts, looking into every face but 
not a glimpse of Robert or Red. Sometimes, he was accompanied 
by his good friend, Louis Palmello, who was seemingly surprised 
that his friend Robert had turned out to be such a villian. More 
often, he was accompanied by his faithful man, Jarl, who had now 
completely recovered from the wound in his shoulder. He was 
also continually on the lookout for his old enemy, the "bulldog," 
as he termed him, and when Jarl was not with Gordon, he could 
be seen with his old bowery chum upon the levee, "or around such 
districts as the "red light district" of the wicked city, their eyes 
open and always on the lookout for Robert and his confederate, or 
a clue that would lead them to their hiding place. 

Gordon often visited Mrs. Waite and tried to cheer her, but by 
nature he was too honest to throw hope into his voice where he felt 
none. He always left the broken home and broken-hearted woman 
(after stopping to say a kind word to Henry, who was still on 
the sick list from his wounds) with a promise to bring her news 
soon. Oh, what misery one man can cause ! This _ was not 
the only home that he had wrecked. In a direct or indirect way, 
he had wrecked hundreds as the captain of the "wits." His band 
was now composed of five beside himself, and he ruled them with 
a will of iron. He had his men so well trained that they operated like 
clockwork. Hardly a day passed that some of them did not gather 
around the table in their underground retreat and divide the spoils 
of some daring raid. He seldom took more than one man besides 
Red ; "3," "4," "5," or "6" were taken out by turns to "pipe" on the 
outside, while he and the/'weazle" alone, held up a merchant's 
store. Passing near the "pipe" on their way out, he would quickly 
inform them by the crooks' deaf and dumb language, what direc- 
tion to take in making their "get-away," etc., etc. After some of 
his boldest raids, he would, as Louis Palmello, return to the spot 
where the robbery took place and mix with the great crowds that 


would invariably collect after the "long and short" men had paid 
a visit. In this way he became acquainted with many of the city 
officers and was the close friend of some. He became familiar 
with the workings of the police department. In fact, became 
acquainted with almost every intention and move of this great 
body of police, (one of the finest in the world, which on the 
account of their inoffensive, genteel-appearing acquaintance, was 
being worked to death). This "robber king," who could see only 
the humorous side of the affair, would sometimes, five minutes 
after a robbery mix with the officers and detectives and even talk 
with the merchants _ he had a few moments before held up and 
robbed, while they listened to the jingle of their own gold in his 
pockets. Indeed, with all its seriousness, it did have a comical 
side, for sometimes he would be enjoying the conversation and 
cigar of some city official at headquarters when patrol wagon after 
patrol wagon would drive up, dump its load of "long and short" 
suspects, who were handcuffed and ushered to their cells through 
a line of police with drawn revolvers, the result of the drag-net 
system. He would chat and joke and listen to the official's theory, 
sometimes expressed in a positive way as to whom the "long and 
short" men were, while hundreds upon hundreds of men, gathered 
in by this drag-net, (many innocent of any crime) were lying in 
the many different jails, or stations as they are called, abounding 
in wicked Chicago, the crime center of the world. Over a thou- 
sand revolvers of all descriptions were confiscated from almost 
as many "long and short" suspects, but still the "long and short" 
men, proper, were not among the drag-net victims, or the blue 
magazine guns that had terrorized a whole city and created a panic 
among merchants, were not among the confiscations of the judge; 
nor were they lying at the city hall among the hundreds in charge 
of the custodians. Instead these articles (which were winning 
for the owner fortune and a reputation for boldness that reached 
the most remote corners of the earth) were reposing in the leather- 
lined pockets of the well-dressed, refined-looking gentleman stand- 
ing among a group of officials, listening with Assumed respect and 
amused interest to the discussion being carried on among them 
regarding himself the bold "long man," his bold deeds and the 
possibility of his capture. 

But now just a swift glance at the serious side. One of the 
many, many cases which the innocent were doomed to suffer for 
crimes which the "long" man was responsible for in an indirect 
way, was that of Clarence White, the brother of Frank White, who 
was murdered while driving along the street in his carriage and 
the only living son of a widowed mother, the keeper of a small 
store on the West Side. He was arrested and charged with the 
Marshall murder and was still lying in the county jail, while his 
poor mother was almost distracted. This terrible misfortune, fol- 
lowing so soon upon the loss of her other son, was fast bringing 
the poor but honest woman to the grave with a broken heart. 
Her heart was wrapped up in the son God had spared to her 


from the shower of bullets that terrible night when a dozen men 
sprang from the roadside, and poured shot after shot into the 
open carriage. He was at that time a young man, honest of pur- 
pose, but if dishonest (as some claimed) probably dishonest from 
a force of circumstances, and for this reason he was (although 
innocent of the crime charged) lying in the bowels of the jail, 
awaiting a fate that seemed inevitable, a fate which was ten-fold 
worse than the death God had spared him from for his mother's 
sake. This is only an instance of many cases similar among the 
over-crowded jails. 

So, while others who were innocent suffered for his crimes, 
the "robber king" smoked and chatted with the officials, shook 
hands with his victims (or intended victims) and raised his hat 
to some of the most fashionable ladies of Chicago's society as he 
passed them in his handsome turnout. He would sometimes make 
a social call during the day upon an invitation, and a business 
call at night ^yithout an invitation, and then call the day following 
to condole with his lovely hostess over the loss of her splendid 
diamonds, and possibly a sum of money. He joined several clubs 
and as Louis Palmello, the Spanish gentleman from Cuba, spent 
money lavishly. He took a handsome house on the boulevard and 
furnished it elegantly and tastefully. Here Gordon was often a 

The supposed Louis Palmello dipped deep into the pleasures 
of life and enjoyed them in his way, claiming that a short life 
should be enjoyed thus. There was not a passion or a desire he 
did not indulge in. His passion for Dorris was growing stronger. 
This passion was the point around which everything else connected 
with his life gravitated. While she was under the influence of the 
drug and oblivious of his or Kit's presence, he would place her 
lovely form in graceful poses, then watch the artistic effect 
with burning eyes and heated imagination. For long periods (after 
he had furnished the morning papers an opportunity to chronicle 
another bold holdup by the ""long and short" men) he would sit 
and study her unconscious face, and it became so engraved on his 
memory that he could, while absent bring her lovely inanimate 
figure before him in its most complete outline, at his will. He grew 
to love her with a mad and most unreasonable love, a love that 
was slowly consuming all other feelings, a love that had driven 
others mad, but not him. Even when in her presence and under the 
influence of her personality he never lost control of himself, for he 
still hoped to make her his wife. From the time he stepped from 
that padded chamber, made sacred by her presence and polluted by 
his unholy love, he was as, the "king of the bandits," bold, cool 
and firm, or the Cuba gentleman of means, suave and polite and 
pleasing in manner, but cool, observative and watchful, 



Time sped apace, the days passed away ushering in the last 
month bringing no hope to the broken homes and broken hearts. 
Gordon was despondent, the detectives well we will look in upon 
them as they are taking a few moments' well-earned rest from their 
ceaseless efforts during the great epidemic of crime. 

In a comfortable corner, at the great Auditorium, sat Arlex 
and Rometto discussing the robberies by the "long and short" men, 
when the well-known and familiar cry of the newsboys reached 
their ears, causing them to simultaneously bound to their feet. 

"Listen Rometto, is that not an extra?" 

These two stern men listened with every sense on the alert 
for the next cry that finally reached their ears from the streets 

"Extra ! All about the 'long and short' men !" 

Arlex was down the stairs and back in a minute with a copy, 
in which they began to read an account of the supposed capture 
of these bandits that had terrorized Chicago for months past. As 
Arlex finishing reading the account to Rometto, he arose and 
commenced to stride across the heavy carpet, scuffing and digging 
his heels into it at every step, while he watched his toes in disgust. 
Rometto calmly retained his seat and eyed his partner who, as he 
passed, muttered something about being just a little behind. 

"What's that you were saying Arlex?" 

"Oh, nothing, but it does seem provoking after all our hard 
work night and day after those other fellows, and all at once to 
find that we were on a false scent." 

"Well, that is no reason why you should scuff out a few good 
cents' worth of that carpet." 

"Oh, quit your kidding and tell me, Ro, what is your opinion 
regarding this capture of the so-called bandits? Do you think 
that we have been on a 'dead one' and that they are the real per- 
petrators of the Marshall store murder and the long list of store 
holdups, or do you still think by any possible chance the theory 
we have been working on regarding the swell 'cove' and his pal is 
still to be considered as at all practical?" 

"Well, Arl., I will tell you what I think, and I will stake the 
reputation we have made for ourselves as deteticves on it. The 
swell 'cove' and his pal are the real 'long and short' of it and 
if we can get our 'come alongs' on them, we will_ have fortune 
and fame in our grasp. If we were as sure of getting the proper 
evidence against them as I am that they are the original 'long and 
short' men, we could easily afford to give a banquet to all our 
brother officers on the strength of it." 

"You still think, then, that our original theory of there being 
three classes of crooks operating in Chicago is a correct one?" 

"Yes. there is one gang which is individually responsible for 
the Marshall murder, another class of 'cheap door-mat thieves', 
as Pinkerton expressed it, who are imitators of the real thing in the 


business, the swell 'cove' and his pal, who are the real 'long and 
short' men are responsible for the boldest of the many crimes 
committed here." 

"Well, Ro., I am willing to believe as you do, in fact, am 
anxious to believe there is still a chance we were not mistaken 
entirely in the theories we worked so hard on. Something seems 
to tell me that we are right, and still, Ro., do you know, some- 
how I cannot bring myself to believe that this Palmello that our 
suspicion points so strongly to, is a bad man at heart, or an un- 
principled bandit. I am believed to be a clever man at reading a 
face or penetrating a mask of the most expert assumption of hon- 
esty, still I have had every opportunity to study him, and fail to 
find in him what there must be if he is in truth the 'long' man, so 
I must be losing my cleverness, or I never possessed any in that 
direction. Has not the idea ever struck you?" 

Yes, it has, and very forcibly, too. If we were to jump at 
conclusions too quickly we would certainly have to acknowledge 
ourselves mistaken and beaten. But Arlex, he is no common crim- 
inal, he is a wonder of the 20th century, and in spite of the 
front he puts on is one of the cleverest and therefore the most 
dangerous of his class." 

"Well, if he is our man, he is indeed a shrewd one, and a more 
intimate acquaintance with him may sharpen our wit." 

"Our wit as you call it, is pitted against his wit, his ability 
to evade as we invade the very recesses of his soul, and lay the 
life so well known in his heart, wide open to the world he so 
cleverly conceals it from. Arlex, my friend, I have taken a great 
interest in this mysterious Palmello and his many crimes. I have 
considered it our star case. We must not be thwarted and thrown 
off by appearances. I believe him to be the guilty one and the man 
that visits him so secretly is his accomplice, the notorious 'short' 
man of the newspaper fame. Palmello has the long end of the 
swag and I think if- we could only manage to get into that place 
of his with leisure to go through it, we would in all probability 
find evidence enough to arrest him and his pal at once." 

"Of course, 'I respect (as I am satisfied you do also) the 
opinion of. our brother officer, but I have set my heart on the 
issue of this ^case and not being satisfied only in part with the 
round-up of it, I wish to follow up the clews we already have 
in the direction we speak of. Are you with me as ever?" 

As the speaker finished, he arose to his feet and extended 
his hand to Arlex who had during this conversation been standing. 

"Am I with you? Rometto, you insult the friendship we bear 
each other by asking such a question of me. Of course, I am with 
you. It certainly is hard to believe he is the villian he must be 
if our theory is correct, but then anything seems possible now- 
days. It is a fast age and a fellow has to get a hustle on him 
to keep up with it." 

As he spoke, he grasped the hand of good fellowship extended. 


"Miracles have happened; they certainly may happen again, 
and if we prove Palmello a villian, he certainly must have two 
souls, two hearts, and two dispositions, operated and controlled by 
one mind, in fact a modern Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde, even to the 
change of his features during his raids. A change though that he 
seems to control at his will, regardless of time or place. If this 
is so, Ro., it is one more seeming impossibility added to the 
world's museum of wonders, as to being with you, have we not 
been like Damon and Pythias, working day and night, for years 
shaving the dangers incurred following the vocation of detectives, 
have we not equally shared success, honor or dishonor no not 
dishonor, Arl. Not that we have shared honors together, but never 
dishonor. Yes, you are right as you generally are, we have dis- 
honor yet to share and we will still try to be an honor to the 
profession, that is my sentiment exactly and we will live up to it 
though it be appreciated or not. I believe as you do in being a man, 
nothing else." As he finished speaking, they shook hands warmly, 
to gaze at the beautiful time-piece that had been faithfully ticking 
off the minutes during this conversation. Arlex glanced at his 
watch, a good solid serviceable affair, saying: 

"That mysterious clock which came so strangely into our 
hands is certainly a most marvelous time-piece, it is still correct 
with mine to the fraction of a second." 

"Mine, also, and we have become so attached to it, it seems 
a part of our daily lives, in fact it has become so indispensible 
to us that we will sorely miss it when the mystery surrounding it 
is cleared up, and the rightful owner claims it." 

"Ro., I believe that it is one more of the unsolved mysteries 
added to the list, and it will never tick off the hours for its owner 

"Well, maybe not, for we have made every effort to find the 
owner and have failed completely so far. Yes, I am inclined to 
think it will stay in our indisputed possession forever, and I am, 
sure I will not be very sorry, for I do not think there is another 
one similar to it in the world. I would be willing to believe that 
also if it were not for a figure two in gold, inlaid with jewels, 
set firmly in the onyx the body of the clock is composed of." 

"Yes, very true, if that signifies anything, one would have 
grounds to believe that there is a number one in existence, and 
possibly a number three, but I hardly think so, for no manufac- 
turer makes them, most of the work is done by hand, and a very 
clever hand, too. I guess we will have to shelve this case, mystery 
and all, along with the clock, so get your top piece and let us go 
over and take a look at the new batch of "long and short" suspects 
who have broken into jail." So speaking, they found their way into 
the busy street. As they walked along, their eyes although heavy 
for the want of sleep, were as ^clear and penetrating as ever, taking 
in every face as it sprang into view along its course piercing 
and reading it without seeming to, or without attracting any 
more attention to themselves than their general make up would 


suggest as two business men, walking with that quick elastic 
springy step that so characterizes a Chicago man. Still many an 
eye was cast their way, mostly from the weak admiring, while they 
envied them for the strength of body and mind they saw there. 
Fine specimens of manhood they were too ; in personal appearance, 
there was a striking contrast one so dark, the other so light 
although they were both true Americans, Rometto (or "Ro" as he 
is called by his friend, Arlex, who in return is called "Arl,") 
one could almost imagine himself in Spain or poor perse- 
cuted Cuba, as he looked at his features so foreign in ap- 
pearance. Spaniard you would say, with his almost blue-black 
hair, dark eyes and jet mustache which shaded a firm set mouth, 
not at all unpleasant as he smiled and showed a gleaming set of 
perfect white teeth. While his companion so striking in contrast 
could be taken for a Norseman of old, with his flaxen hair, blonde 
mustache and heavy eyebrows overhanging a pair of eyes that were 
steel gray but at times almost blue. The foreign appearance of 
both of these brave men and their ability to converse in many 
language was a great assistance to them in their line of business. 
Passing rapidly along, they soon reached their destination where a 
great surprise awaited them. 


The "long and short" men continued to hold up and rob at 
their will, but this kind of amusement at last became as monoto- 
nous to Robert Long, the real "long man," as it had become inter- 
esting to Red and the colts, and terrorizing to the city. He cast 
around for some other means of satisfying his diabolical craving 
for a trade of crime that was as horrible as the holdups were 
bold and unique. _ So he proceeded to carry out a plan that had 
been forming in his head for some time. 

Number "49" still held to his habit of muttering to himself. 
"Yes, I will do it. Then my revenge is complete. Yes, he shall 
witness my triumph over him and all obstacles. I wonder if he 
will hear _the jester's bells ! Ah, by Jove ! that puts me in mind 
of something else. He shall hear them, and also witness my triumph 
over him. Ah, but it will be a sweet revenge ! Poor fool ! He 
thinks I, as Palmello, invite him to my house and sit talking to 
him for hours because I am his friend. Yes, I am his friend, 
for he gives me pleasure, the pleasure of sitting opposite to him 
while I watch the agony on his face and the lines of care grow 
deeper and deeper every day. It is a very good pastime, but it 
grows monotonous like all the rest. So, for a little devia- 
tion from the general programme, I will put him where his hair 
will grow as grey as the rats that will be gnawing at his shins, 
while a worse feeling will gnaw at his heart strings as he listens 
to the jester's bells. Ah, I must have a little amusement! Then 
I think I will get rid of him altogether and take my sleeping 
beauty to her new home. She is losing her roses down there." 


That evening, Robert, alias number "49," Louis Palmello, etc. 
accompanied the future victim of his cold-blooded plans about the 
levee in his ceaseless and seemingly useless search for poor Dorris 
or her abductors. Gordon's eyes were heavy for want of sleep and 
they pained him severely for the unnatural strain on them, caused 
by trying to perform an impossibility, which was to look into every 
face that swept by on a Chicago street. The great strain was tell- 
ing on him. He was weary and sick at heart. He had done 
everything that man could do, even to run a continued personal or 
ad. in the daily papers, offering a large reward for information 
that would furnish him even the slightest clue. 

Gordon's good friend, Palmello, (apparently by chance, but in 
reality by clever design) led him in the vicinity of the old church, 
after visiting numerous places upon the levee and the red light 
district south of this and then on Custom House place, where 
he had passed within a few feet of her prison in company with her 
jailer. They visited many other places where a character like 
Red or Robert might hold out, but not a glimpse of either rewarded 
his persistency. He was forced to avert his eyes to rest them a 
moment from the awful strain of trying to peer into every face as 
he passed with his companion down this lonely street and struck the 
shadows of the church. For this reason, his naturally active eye 
failed to see the two figure?: lurking there, one of them the very 
man he was looking for. He was struck to the sidewalk, bound, 
gagged and blindfolded. 

When he revived, he was a prisoner in the rat pit. All was 
dark and damp. A horde of sewer rats that had been running 
over and around him and nibbling at his flesh scampered away with 
squeaks of fright as he stirred and tried to rise. At last, when he 
did regain his feet, a chain rattled. He took a step forward and was 
almost jerked to the ground. He fell against a wall of earth and 

"My God! I am a prisoner, and chained! Why is this, and 
whose work is \t? Can there be a fiend so foul as to chain his 
fellow creature like this to die among the rats?" 

As if in answer to his thoughts, a heavy door opened, letting 
in a flood of light. It blinded him for a moment, but only a mo- 
ment. Then he realized that there was such a fiend and that fiend 
was his half brother. 

"Robert! you?" 

"Yes, it is I, dear brother. I heard the jester's bells jingling, 
was it your chain, and thought I would look in and see if you 
wish anything." 

Gordon pressed his hand to his head and looked at his brother 
in astonishment and wonder, as he replied, "Yes, I do wish some- 
thing. I wish you had struck me dead before I ever became aware 
of your awful nature." 

"Is there anything else you wish?" 


"Yes, there is, you fiend ! Why am I chained here in this 
foul hole, and what have you done with poor Dorris ?" 

"Dear brother, from the way you speak, I am afraid you do 
not appreciate my generous motives. In answer to your first ques- 
tion the rats that hold sway in here were getting lonesome and 
hungry so I thought I would furnish them with company and some- 
thing to dine upon." 

"You fiend !" 

"There now, just look at that for gratitude. That's the best 
I get when I am trying to be a good fellow; but I have not 
finished, and when I have, you will take back those harsh words 
and bless me, for in answer "to your last question I would say that 
I have kept my word to you and done with her as I said I would. 
The rose bloom still lies upon her cheek, and she often speaks 
your name in her sleep. You are indeed a fortunate man to have a 
brother as good and kind as I, as you have been heard to say you 
would give your life to gaze once more upon her. You shall gaze 
and the life you are so willing to give up for that blessed privilege 
you may keep. Behold!" 

As he finished speaking, he swung the door wide open and 
stepped back -a pace. Upon the bed lay the almost nude form of a 
graceful woman, but the honest eyes of Gordon were held by the 
lovely face alone. It was Dorris. Forgetting all else, he made 
a move to rush to her side, but his head struck the sill and his 
outstretched hands sunk in the edge of the rich carpet just beyond. 
He had forgotten even the heavy chain which held him prisoner. 
He called her name while he was regaining his feet and repeated 
it many times after. No answer. That was strange ! Robert was 
leaning against the jamb of the door, chuckling between each puff 
of the rich Havana _ he was smoking. The truth began to dawn 
upon Gordon, and his face was gray with terror as he turned his 
questioning eyes upon his fiendish brother, who said in an insinuat- 
ing way, 

"Pretty, isn't she? Like to be free, eh?" 

Gordon tried to reach him. No use. Then he cried out, 

"O you inhuman monster! You fiend incarnate! Why does 
not God wither you up as you stand?" 

His only answer was a chuckle and a puff of cigar smoke in 
his face. He again turned towards the sleeping girl he loved so 
dearly and truly. He shouted her name at the top of his voice, 
but the beautiful, inanimate form never stirred. The long lashes 
and grieved little mouth failed to respond.- He again turned his 
attention to the smiling devil near him. As he did so, he received 
another puff of cigar smoke in his ashen face, followed by the 
terse question, 

"Hear any bells?" 

"No ! you spawn of evil, but I see " 

Robert here interrupted him with, "Well, you have seen quite 
enough for this time. In a minute you won't see anything; if you 


get tired listening to the bells, you can kill time and rats by telling 
your troubles to them." 

"Robert, you don't mean " 

What he would have said was cut short by another puff of 
smoke and the thud of the heavily padded door, as it swung in 
place, leaving him in this dungeon of horrors to tug, beat and 
wrench at the chain which held him. The great rats, some almost 
the size of a cat, became bolder. They gnawed at the leather of 
his shoes, which forced him to kick right and left. This seemed 
to enrage them, for they ran up his legs, to his neck, face and 
ears. He fought them off with his hands. Many times they clung 
to his finger tips. He killed many, but others seemed to fill their 
places at once. Feverish, sore and heart-broken, he fought on 
with the slimy creatures to stop for a moment would be only to 
give up his life to them. Hungry, weak and wretched, he manfully 
fought on hour after hour, ^hey were evidently rats from some 
sewer near by, for the smell from them was sickening. He almost 
fainted a number of times. 

"My God ! Is it possible that he, my brother, foresaw this and 
means for me to be devoured alive? It seems impossible, yet it 
must be so. Ah, what a h " 1 e revenge he has taken !" 

The rats he was now fighting to keep clear of his face and 
hands were reinforced by a number more directly from the sewer, 
and the already horrible stench became worse as they squeezed 
their way into this underground dungeon. He could see their 
gleaming little eyes in the darkness as they surrounded him and 
proceeded to climb over his person. He now fought desperately, 
crying out for help, and attempted to reach the door, as he had 
many times before; but the only way he could reach it even by his 
hands was by lying full length upon the ground. To do this meant 
sure death. He soon became almost too weak to stand. He grew 
faint. His head swam around, he fell to his knees, then on his 
hands. Hundreds of savage creatures took advantage of this mo- 
mentary weakness and as he again managed to struggle to his feet 
they were clinging to every portion of his body. 

The weight and stench almost dragered him to earth again, 
but he made one last effort to free himself from their sharp teeth 
and foul bodies. He was thrashing around in every direction, when 
suddenly the rat pit was flooded with light, and they instantly 
dropped down and scampered away with squeaks of fright. 


Gordon had fought for hours with the foul-smelling sewer rats. 
The captain of the Wits stood in the door, just having returned 
from a successful raid. As his eyes fell upon the awful sight his 
brother presented, the smile he was prepared to greet his prisoner 
with almost left his face, but it immediately returned, as he said, 

"Well, that is pretty near h , isn't it? How do you like 

it? Did you hear any bells jingling while I was gone?' 


"You merciless fiend! No. I was too busy to hear anything 
trying to preserve my life from these filthy creatures." 

"Rats, eh?" 

"Yes, rats. Do you mean that I shall be devoured alive by 

"Oh by no means, my dear boy, I just want to give you a 
glimpse of purgatory and a glimpse of heaven. Do you want another 
glimpse of heaven?" 

"What do you mean?" 

Gordon had staggered as near the door as the chain would 

"Well, where you are now is purgatory and where I am is 
nearly a heaven. Even though yon are in a place worse than purga- 
tory, I will give you a glimpse of a place equal to heaven." 

"Yes, Robert, but a heaven with but one angel." 

"Well, dear boy, gaze upon the angel then, while I get you 
some refreshments and a light to keep your little devils away. 
You look like a stall-fed ghost, or the 'old boy' himself." 

Throwing the padded door open, he left the room to procure 
food and drink for his famished victim. As Robert disappeared, 
Gordon tried again to rouse the sleeping girl by calling her name, 
but it only caused her to stir slightly and murmur his name. As 
she did so, he plainly heard the jingling of the bells attached by 
Robert to her flowing gown. 

"O God, what a fiend of mockery he is ! He must be mad, but 
there is method in his madness.' God help us to escape from this 
vile den !'' 

Food and drugged wine was forced on him and he became once 
more unconscious. He found himself the following morning in the 
Harrison Street Police station, just reviving from the effects of 
the drug. He had been found lying upon the sidewalk by detectives, 
Shubert and Wpolrige. Thinking he was drunk, they gathered him 
in and he occupied a cell until court set at 9 a. m. He was promptly 
set at liberty by Justice Richardson. After a good bath and change 
of clothes throughout, he sent for Arlex and Rometto. To them 
he related his experience but was unable to locate the place exactly. 

"Yes, your friend, Palmello told us of the occurrence near a 
church and we have been looking for you all night. The detectives 
found you on Custom House Place. That is what puzzled us. 
Don't tell your story to anyone else. They would not believe it and 
it will do no good. Anyway, it is a clue and proves our first theory 
to be correct, the theory we have worked on, that they are in the 
levee district. From your appearance, I should judge you must 
have had an awful experience for your hair is tinged with gray." 

"Oh, I did not mind the rats so much. But the other! O my 
God ! My friends, it was awful, too awful to repeat, too awful to 
think of. He made a threat once that he would turn my hair as 
gray as a sewer rat, and plant gravestones around my heart, and he 
has certainly commenced planting them. My heart is heavier than 


one to-day. I would sooner have one planted at my head than to 
see and hear what I did in that awful 'den of horrors.' " 

"Well, cheer up, Mr. Long. Remember that it is just such 
awful things as this that make men of us. The perfidy of your 
brother has opened your eyes to the world." 

They hurried off just as Palmello (Gordon's supposed friend) 
entered, and these two were soon comparing notes. Later, Palmello 
again accompanied him around Custom House Place in quest of 
himself and enjoyed the performance hugely. 


At midnight, Robert transferred Dorris to a new prison, a 
secret chamber he had fitted up for her in the mansion. Here Kit, 
who knew nothing of the awful scene in the rat pit, kept her com- 
pany during the night, returning to her own place at day. Red 
played hackman, as before. He and Kit were the only ones trusted 
with the location of his residence. 

His pal of the lake front scrimmage, who had during this time 
been held a prisoner, was now released. This was brought about 
by Arlex and Rometto who thought he might lead them to his con- 
federates. They kept him in sight for two days. At last their 
perseverance was rewarded to a certain extent. The crook now led 
them by a circuitous route to Custom House Place. Glancing 
around to see that he was not observed, disappeared in one of the 
many houses under ban. Arlex quickly made his way round to the 
rear, while Rometto rang the bell. The door was opened and he 
was admitted by Kit. She was well-known to the detectives. He 
called her by name, and inquired if the crook was there. She re- 
plied that he was not. He seemed to doubt her word. She told 
him he might search the house, which he did, but of course found 
no trace of his man. Much puzzled, he joined his companion, and 
together they talked it over. Then Rometto returned to the front 
and they shadowed the house for a few moments longer. Mean- 
time, the crook had found his way to the underground den. He 
knew nothing of the new captain and was not aware this was now 
the retreat of the "long and short" men. He had just opened a 
conversation about the handsome and peculiar clock which he had 
noticed with greedy eyes, when Kit came and informed them of the 
detectives' visit. Red told him he had better stay inside for a week 
or so, or "steer clear o' de joint for a while." He had been kept 
inside too much, as he thought, so he made up his mind to leave 
the city. Red went above with Kit. 

"Now is me chance. I'll jest cop dat clock an blow out by de 
old church. I kin get a good stake out of it, fer I knows of a swell 
cove wat pays a fortune sometimes fer dis 'ere kind. He has got 
his house full of em. I'll have t' make 'im tink as wat it is on de 
square dough, or he won't touch it. He'll pass it up sure, but I 
kin do dat, I guess." 


So thinking, the crook wrapped the clock in a rain coat he saw 
hanging on the wall, then rummaging around, found a long strap 
which he drew tightly around it. Prepared thus, he soon emerged 
from the shadows of the old church. By some peculiar means, he 
had become acquainted with the fact that C. E. Merrill of No. 275 
53rd street, president of the Larson Company, was the possessor of 
a large collection of odd, antique clocks of rich and peculiar designs, 
and was still adding to this collection at every opportunity. The 
crook started off in the direction of his residence. 

Arlex, getting disgusted, while in the rear watching a building 
which he was satisfied did not hold their man, left with his com- 
panion. As they were turning into Polk street, they saw the very 
one they were looking for coming from the direction of the notorious 
Boiler Avenue, with a large bundle which he carried by a strap. 
The moment he saw the two detectives, he dropped it and ran. 
Thus the clock came into the possession of the mystified detectives. 
The crook could not be found, so it was left with them as before 

Robert was furious over the loss of the clock, for he had now 
looked forward with some degree of interest to the time when it 
would give up (as he supposed) the secret of his birth and who his 
mother was. He sent the "wits" all on a still hunt, giving them 
orders not to claim it, as that would be disastrous, but to "swipe" 
it It proved useless. The clock or "crook" could not be located. 
It made him more vicious and cruel. The following evening, they 
held up on the street a country merchant visiting Chicago who 
strenuously protested. Robert vented some of his ill-feeling by 
hitting him over the nose every time he opened his mouth, and as 
the merchant was plucky and persistent, he hit him many times 
with the butt of a pistol. When they had at last relieved him of his 
money and valuables, they left him with his nose flattened to his 
face and disfigured for life. In man}' ways he vented his wrath. 
Red and others of the band were careful not to offend him, even 
Kit shuddered as she caught the cold gleam of his eves. 

The following day, they made one of their raids. The bold- 
ness of it was never equaled. In broad day, they held up another 
large store, crowded with clerks and shoppers. His outside man, 
for the first time, unintentionally gave the wrong "office" as they 
passed out. The eyes that looked into his had for the moment 
confused even him, a man careless of death itself. The consequence 
of this mistake was that they were obliged to fire into the crowd in 
order to make a sure ''get-away." Later in the evening the "pioe" 
was thrown in the pit and he fought rats for an hour. After that 
there were no more mistakes. While his lesser light was fighting 
rats, the cruel captain was enjoying a cigar and bottle with his 

"Say, Red, where did you get that handkerchief I see around 
your neck?" 

"Dflt's de one ye staked me t' on de lake front t' tie up me 
scalp wid." 


"That is what I thought. Well, the next raid we make, just 
drop it where it can be found readily." 


"There, there, you go again, asking questions. Just do as I 
tell you and you will do what is right." 

"All right, captin, wat yuse says goes wid me every flop out o' 
de box." 

After the next bold hold up, the police found a clue, and they 
followed it up. Their work was good and very rapid. The owner 
of the handkerchief was located before the sun set. Palmello could 
not resist the temptation to be on hand when the owner was brought 
in by the officers. Therefore, he hung around headquarters. The 
sight he saw when the "Black Maria" or police patrol drove up 
with clanging bell, more than rewarded him, for his gloating eye 
fell on the face of Gordon who was undergoing the humiliation of 
being ushered down a line of police to a prison cell, handcuffed to 
an opium fiend on one side and to a well-known thief on the other, 
while a Chinaman and a dozen "long and short" suspects with 
crime stamped on most every feature were his companions. Later, 
he was lined up with a crowd of other suspects for identification. 
The long room was crowded with merchants and other business 
men who were victims of the bold bandits. 

Palmello was on hand, apparently doing all he could to obtain 
his friend's release, but this, of course (under the circumstances) 
was impossible, as he well knew the evidence against Gordon was 
too strong, and he himself was astonished. They showed Gordon 
a handkerchief with his name in full worked in the silk border. 
Did he recognize" it, he was asked. Yes, he did. It was certainly 
his. How did it come here? He was positive he had left it among 
some other cast-off things at his home in London. This assertion 
brought a smile all around. Then he was more astonished than 
ever for several merchants he was positive he never saw before, 
stepped forward and identified him as the notorious "long man" 
who had terrorized the city for months past. Then they produced 
the two blue magazine guns Gordon was carrying while on his 
ceaseless hunt for Dorris. Did he recognize these? Yes, they were 
his. It seemed he could not deny anything. Rometto and Arlex 
Cwhp had just arrived from their quarters where, they had been dis- 
cussing the mysterious clock, the "long and short" raids and things 
in general) looked with eyes of surprise at Gordon, who looked at 
them in turn with questioning eyes. But they were now in turn 
gazinsr at Palmello with something mere than mere interest. They 
saw the gloating look and their suspicions were strengthened. 



The detectives did what they could to obtain their friend's 
release, for they were positive he was innocent, but the evidence 
against him was too strong. They could do nothing until he was 
given a regular trial. He was sent back to his cell and the iron 
door clanged to upon another innocent man, the victim of circum- 
stances, and his heartless brother's cold-blooded and diabolical 

The two detectives, accompanied by Palmello, visited him here, 
and assured him that they would have him out soon. Gordon bore 
tip under this new blow with becoming fortitude. Leaving 
Palmello behind, the detectives returned to their quarters 
where they quickly disguised themselves as well to do stock men, 
just in from the west. Hurrying back to the jail, they were in time 
to see Palmello coming out. This was their plan, for if he had any 
suspicion, he certainly could not have given them credit of chang- 
ing in such a short space of time. They stopped him with a ques- 

"I say stranger, mout weuns ask youns fer a mite of informa- 
shun ?" 

Palmello's cold eye looked them through and through as he 

"Of course, what is it you wish?" 

"Wa-al, yer see it's jes this ere way, weuns left our wimin 
folke ter hum an toted a keer full o' critters all the way from 
Nebraska an weve got money left, though I guess weye bin yere 
nigh onter three weeks. Wa'al, an yer wont believe it, but thar 
aint over tue-thirds of the folks in this ere teoun seed us, an theres 
a few people that weuns heerd tell about away up in our teoun that 
weuns aint seed, an weuns wanter take er look at them air fellers." 

"Well, what has that got to do with me?" 

The tone was curt and sharp. 

"Oh, wa-al, Mister, hopes youns will excuse weuns, but youns 
looked like er real gentleman as wernt too fine ter answer a few 

"Well, my time, you see, is somewhat limited. Excuse me if 
I spoke somewhat curtly. It is a way of mine with strangers. If 
we were better acquainted, why of course but who are these great 
celebrities whose fame has reached even to the cornhills of Ne- 
braska? It can't be the Mayor or Chief of Police?" 




"Bath House John?" 

"Naw, weuns knew him and weve seed thar chief an mayor. 
Weve seed the whole gol durned teoun." 

"Well, I can't imagine who it is if you have, as you say, seen 
everybody in the whole city." 


Palmetto had penetrated their disguise, although it was the best 
of the kind. He also "dropped" to the fact that these men sus- 
pected him. He must be on his guard, so he played the part of 
good fellowship and apparently played into their hands. 

"I guess they want to see if I won't steer them against some 
sure thing graft, and tip my mit to them. They know there is 
something wrong with me, but they don't know what. Well, they 
will have their pains for nothing. They will never know. They 
can suspect all they want to. They have got to have proof before 
they can turn a wheel. I stand too well with the city they so very 
cleverly represent." 

"Wa-al, stranger, them air fellers weuns want ter see have 
made things purty lively deoun here for youns, the 'long and 
shortun.' " 

"Oh, you mean the 'long and short' men? Well, there are a 
good many that would like to see them. There are over a million 
of people in this great city alone that are in the same boat. And 
hundreds of merchants would like to see them, but not at their 
places of business." 

"Wa-al, what weuns have hearn tell deoun hum an up here, I 
shud think they ud ruther see em in the calabouse. We heern tell 
as they were thar now and that thar is the place weuns were goin, 
but thought as youns might tell weuns how ter get in thar." 

"Well, you will get in there soon enough if you go round talk- 
ing to strangers like you do to me. It is a bad plan. You might 
run onto a 'confidence man' or the 'long and short' men, them- 

"Wa-al, thanks, stranger, that thar be mighty good of yous ter 
say so, but how air weuns agoin to run a muck of that thar 'long 
tin and short un' when they are sure nough in that thar 'calerboose' 

"Oh, they are not in there. There are hundreds of men in the 
'calerboose' as you call it, held on suspicion of being either the 'long* 
or 'short' man, but they have none of the right parties yet." 

"An what makes youns think they have none of the right par- 
ties yet?" 

"Well, that is easy to see. The jails are full of 'long and short' 
suspects, and still the bold hold ups go on. If the notorious ban- 
dits were in there, they certainly could not at the same time be 
holding up some store." 

"Yeas, but moightn't them ere fellers that they got ter day be 
thar ones?" 

"Certainly not. Why, one of them is my most intimate friend, 
and I am sure he is innocent." 

"Dew tell!" 

"Yes, and _ the evidence against him is pretty strong, in fact 
almost conclusive, still, by to-morrow, there will probably be an- 
other hold up by the real 'long and short' bandits." (As he said 
this, he knew in his own mind that there would not, for he had 
made the statement to the parties of the last hold up that this was 


the "long and short" of it, and the last of it, and he meant it, for 
he wished it to appear that the hold tips were stopped by the cap- 
ture of Gordon. This would make evidence against him complete, 
and for this purpose alone, the city was to have a breathing spell 
for a short time). 

"Dew tell! Wa-al gall durn our buttons, what deu you think 
of that 'Bill?' This is my friend, Bill, Billy Skutes of Herkimer. 
He's almost as bad as that thar 'long* feller. Probably youns have 
hearn tell about it. Na? Wa'al, sir, yer wouldn't believe it ter look 
at him, but he's thar feller that stole thar big cheese over at Her- 

"You don't say so. Well, Mr. Skutes, I am glad to see you." 

"Wa-al, as I was saying, he stole the cheese an hid over in a 
teoun called Hogback an they never would of found him only yer 
see Bill was smoking one of them ere segars they calls 'Telephone' 
segars. (Billy Bryan gave it to him.) Everybody in them ere 
parts knew that Bill had that ere segar. It war nigh onter thirty 
miles ter Hogback, but they smelt that ere 'Telephone' segar in 
Herkimer and gobbled him in. Gosh all firelocks ! Youns ought 
ter see that thar teoun ! It riz right up like this ere teoun after the 
'long and short' un. Lightnin bugs in June! But youns jut ought 
ter seed ole Zeph Aikens thar sheriff and teoun marshal, when they 
toted him back inter teoun, cheese an all. Them ere officers had 
one hand on thar nose an tother on Bill's collar. The whole teoun 
was thar ter see him but when they got thar they were in er fix 
ter know what ter deu with him." 

"I should thought they would have hung him," Palmello said 
with a good natured smile, wishing to carry out this farce with as 
good grace as they. 

"Wa-al, yer see they war agoin ter, but when they went ter 
look fer a rope, they couldn't find un." 

"Well, that was strange, how was that?" 

"Wa-al yer see the boys durn their hides hed smoked em." 

"You don't say !" 

"Ya-as, and yer see how 'twas. Bill har, he war the mayor, 
chief o' police, judge and the hull thing." 

"Impossible !" 

"Yeas, he don't look it, but he was a bigger man than youns 
mayor here." 

""I don't doubt it." 

They had been walking along while carrying on this peculiar 
conversation and were now opposite some refreshment parlors. He 
risked them in, an invitation they readily accepted. While regaling 
themselves with refreshments Palmello again opened the conversa- 

"Well, did they then send to some other town for a rope?" 

"Wa-al now, yer see they knew that it ud be no use fer all 
them ere teoun s round about, kind o' run short on segars and baccy 
and they all smoke rope up our way in them days sept'n Bill Bryan 
and ole Jones." 


Billy Skutes of Herkimer now broke in for almost the first 
time. "O, I knows Bill Bryan purty wal. I was named after him. 
My mother's aunt's cousin's sister says as I look a good deal like 
his father did when she was a gel tech in schule an his father an 
my father uster go by her schule house door t'gether a rabbit huntin 
over in the big woods beyent." 

"Ya-as, that be so, Mr. " 

"Palmello is my name. 'Louis Palmello.' " 

"Thanks. Youns are a real gentleman, Mr. Palmello an my 
name is Quick, Rollie D. Quick. My name uster was Peter Dan 
Quick, but my ant Salaratur seed them thar Vasceline Sisters at er 
show thet cum tue our teoun onst an she made me change my name 
to Rollie, something with scallops on it yar know." 

"So your full name as it stands now is "Rollie D. Quick?" 

"Ya-as 'that's the long and short' of it." 

"Well, I'm afraid that you are not living up to what the name 
suggests quickness. At any rate, quickness in getting to the end 
of a story." 

^ "Aw ya-as. 'Twist my ribs' if I didn't mos forget. I was er 
telling about Bill stealing the big cheese. Wa-al, as I war a sayin 
Bill was thar whole thing out thar, so he ordered himself locked up 
then ordered himself unlocked, and then he sot on that thar j edges 
bench and tried hisself and fined hisself forty cents an a plug o' 
baccy. That was about all he ever had in them ere days. Then 
the blamed cuss, he paid hisself and tuck a chaw of baccy. But 
them air teoun folks kicked and said as it warn't fair nohow, so 
Bill oh, he's a cute un, is Bill!" 

"Yes, I believe you, in fact I think you are both pretty clever. 
You ought to be^ in the detective business. We need some more 
good men here in the city." 

Arlex and Rometto had about made up their minds that their 
shrewd companion had penetrated their disguise. Their plans to 
find out the true nature of this wonderful man had failed. The 
bait they held out to him was tempting for they had flashed large 
sums of money in greenbacks. He was, they now thought, either 
honest and a gentleman or else a clever actor and on to their make 
up. Could they be on the wrong track? No. Something told 
them no. Their suspicions had been strengthened by the gloating 
look they had noticed on his features as he gazed at the victim of 
his wicked but clever scheme. 

"Wa-al, Mr. Honery Palmer" 

" 'Palmello,' if you please." 

"Oh, ya-as, sure nough, 'Palmelder,' I don't mind a tellin youns 
(but yer mustn't say a word about it to the mayor or Bill Bryan 
when he gets t' be president) that weuns air both detectives. Ya-as, 
Bill an me air both full-fledged detective fellers. Thet's wat we !>,. 
We sent ten dollars apiece to er detective asfency an they sent \veuns 
their whole business, a paper as they called a commission an er 
star an er dark lantern an er pistol. Bill uses his dark lantern 


now to spear bull-heads with at night on the mill-pond; an they 
sent a pair of them air what d' yer call em, Bill?" 

"Scapes my mind jes wat they did call them air blamed things." 

"Anyway, Bill made er pair o' bits out o' them for his horses." 

"Oh, you mean 'come-alongs?'" 

"Wa-al, come ter think, I believe that thar is jest what they 
call 'em. Anyway, they 'come along' with the other traps. I know 
I didn't have mine long." 

"Well, they must have sent you almost everything except a 

"Ya-as, and by gosh, I think they sent the bugler, tue, I'll be 
durned if I don't, although thar want nery a one in the package 
one come along and stole them air 'come-alongs' and the whole 
shootin match, star, dark lantern, pistol, hand cuffs, and all." 

"So you think now that they furnished you everything for ten 
dollars to catch burglars with, then sent you out a burglar to prac- 
tice on?" 

"No, by gosh, I think they sent that air burgler out to coon em 
so they can skin some other Ruben Glue with them. But say, if 
Skutes, I mean this Bill here, goin into that air detective racket 
fur he' laughed hisself hungry. The time Bill traded apples fur a 
new hat, he war so swell " 

"Now look here, Rollie D. Quick, I won't have yer castin sin- 
uashuns before this gentleman," said Bill. 

Palmello now interrupted, becoming slightly impatient, although 
interested in their peculiar talk and their clever acting. 

"Well, how about the cheese?" 

"Wa-al, as I were a sayin, the folks wern't satisfied so .Bill he 
orders a jury trial an then he orders that air jury to take kere of 
thar cheese. (I forgot to say that Bill here is Dutch an the rest 
o' the teoun was Irish.) Wa-al the jury tuck keer o' the cheese, 
an Bill as the jedge made his charge to the jury an told them not t' 
find him guilty to durned quick. The hull gal durned teoun purty 
near wuz on that air jury so thar jedge, Bill here, tole them that he 
would lock em up in their jury room with their cheese an if they 
found him guilty they were to knock once only an he would go out 
an hang hisself with the rope he wore fur suspenders, an if he want 

fuilty that they must knock onst then follow this a little < later by a 
nil lot o' knocks. Wa-al he purty near knocked that pir case fer 
this air was a big cheese an Linbereer at that. Wa-al Bill he locked 
the teoun up in the jury room with that air cheese an of course in 
about a minute there was a knock an in about five minutes more 
thar war five hundred knocks to get out and " 

"Well, my friend, I am afraid I will have to leave you." 

"Ya-as, but jes wait till I tell youns " 

"No, I am sorry, but I guess I will have to leave you and the 
town in the jury room with the cheese until some other time. My 
friend is in trouble and I must try and do something for him. If 
you are, as you say, going to remain in the city until you see the 
long and short' men, possibly I may have the pleasure of meeting 


you again. Good-day, Mr. Skutes, and you also, Mr. Quick. Good- 
day, good-day." 

He was gone, and he had not once tried to work them. Could 
they be mistaken? They still were unsatisfied regarding his char- 
acter. He was too deep and too cunning to be tricked into showing 
his true nature. The supposed farmers talked a while together and 
made up their minds that they had no common man to deal with. 
It was "diamond cut diamond." 


Differently disguised, they shadowed Palmello day and night. 
They noticed a woman leave his residence almost every morning 
and return in the evening. She was heavily veiled and seemed to 
know that she was being watched. She always took a cab and some- 
times changed vehicles two or three times to lose the shadows al- 
ways at her heels. For a week she successfully eluded them. Once 
they almost made up their minds that it was Dorris, but they soon 
dismissed this idea. Once they trailed her as far as the old church. 
Her cab drove off at a rattling pace and before they could reach the 
vicinity she had disappeared. They searched all houses which were 
mostly low resorts. They then picked the lock of the church door 
and examined the interior thoroughly with the aid of a little bull's 
eye. Not there. Where could she have disappeared to? 

After this one would shadow her while the other watched in 
the vicinity of the church, but with no results. The holdups had 
ceased for a while. It looked pretty dark for Gordon, and it was 
drawing near the time set for his trial. It looked as if he must cer- 
tainly suffer for all the deeds of the notorious bandit, the "long 
man." Still, he knew his friends were working hard to save him 
and he hoped for the best and bore his imprisonment much better 
than many of the other hundreds of suspects with whom he was in 
daily touch. He seemed to win the respect of the jail officials, pris- 
oners and all. It was small punishment according to what he had 
gone through with already. It seemed that fate was against him. 
Hundreds of merchants thought they recognized in him the notori- 
ous bandit. A rumor was started in the jail that he was also to 
be tried for the cold-blooded murder of South and West Side mer- 

He could not understand how the handkerchief came there. 
He could understand nothing, only that he was innocent of all 
crime and yet was branded as the greatest criminal unhung, the 
"long bandit" and would probably suffer in his place for -his crimes. 
Still he had hope, and found strength in prayer to the effect that 
he might be liberated to continue his hunt for Dorris and alleviate 
the distress her mysterious disappearance caused to so many, for 
she held a warm spot in the hearts of all who knew her. Even 
Bonny Bess and Toots were cast down and much dispirited. They 
would stand for hours looking up and down the long stretch of 
highway, then with dejected mein, go snuffing around the idle swing 


or rusty chain that tethered the little boat. The robins were still 
hopping about, gathering up the crumbs scattered by the hand of 
Henry, who had a soft spot in his heart for her pets, and they were 
faring well since he got about again. Mrs. Waite was completely 
prostrated from grief and remorse. 

The two determined detectives now gave most of their attention 
to Louis Palmello and the veiled woman that came and went so 
mysteriously. They slept four hours, turn about, and worked 
twenty. Many times they were assisted by Jarl and his bowery 
chum in shadowing the suspected man and watching the different 
places he visited'. They noticed that he often met a well-known 
club man, known as "Lucky Steve," a realistic story writer studying 
the shady side of life in Chicago. They often met at the Pan Amer- 
ican, Chapin and Gores and Alderman Powers' buffet. _ But this 
proved nothing. "Lucky Steve" had long been an acquaintance of 
the two detectives, but they knew from experience that it was use- 
less to ask him questions about anything that was not his own indi- 
vidual business. 

One evening Jarl sent them the information by his bowery 
chum that Palmello had just entered a certain house in Custom 
House Place. They hurried over and found Jarl still on watch. 
He pointed out the number to them "Break-o'-Day" Kit's place. 
"By all that's queer, what can he be doing there?" 
They watched the place until after daylight, while they sent 
Jarl and his companion to watch Palmello's residence, but he did 
not appear. Rometto now returned to watch the residence, send- 
ing Jarl to relieve Arlex. Thus they worked on, keeping both 
places under surveillance. At 9 a. m. Palmello came down the mar- 
ble steps. They followed him. He changed to three or four dif- 
ferent cars, and it proved hard work to keep him in view. He then 
took another line of cars back to the levee district. Here it was 
easy work to shadow him without being discovered. He entered 
"Break-o'-Day" Kit's place with a latch wey. This satisfied them 
that they were not mistaken. This wonderful man was leading a 
double life. Being satisfied of this, they made up their minds to 
expedite matters. Therefore they acted quickly and to the point. 
They knew from former dealings with Kit that it was almost use- 
less to endeavor to "pump" any information out of her, but they 
made up their minds to try. Ringing the bell, they were smilingly 
vshered in. It was nothing new for her to be visited by the agents 
of the law. They came to business at once. 

"Kit, we were passing and happened to see a friend of ours 
drop in, a gentleman with dark Spanish features, very handsome. 
We would like to see him a moment if he is still here." 

The only answer they secured to this was a very suggestive 
shrug of her finely formed shoulders and a slight lifting of the heavy 
lashes. It proved utterly impossible to get a word out of her, so 
they left her smiling at them in a tantalizing way. They now 
watched Palmello's residence till they saw a veiled figure walk 
gracefully down the street and turn in at the gate. They then took 


turns at going to their quarters to don a new disguise. Arlex, made 
up as an Irish plumber, presented himself at the house, and rang 
the bell. The door opened to the length of a short chain which 
held it. He could see no one but a lady's voice inquired: 

"What is it you wish?" 

"Wei, bejabers, it's nothin at all, at all I'd be after wantin, but 
Mr. Palmello was after leavin wurrd at the gas house to sind doun 
a mon to faix de gas maeter." 

"Are you the man?" 

"Oim that same, mum. Oi be the man.'' 

"Well, if you are sure that you are the gas man, I guess you 
had better come when he is at home." 

The door was closed. 


Arlex met Rometto coming from their quarters, disguised as 
an Italian vender with terra cotta figures in a basket. Arlex 
related his experiences and his companion was inclined to laugh 
and said : 

"Just wait till I spring these figures on her. She can't resist 
showing her face then. You say her voice is familiar?" 

"Yes, but I am positive now that it is not Dorris." 

"Well, I can't imagine who she can be, but we shall soon see." 

Off he trotted around the corner and up the steps. 

"Gooda morn, madam, canna me showa you de fig. Sella cheap. 
Me no gotta de mon, harda up. Maka de pair one a dol." 

"No, I guess I do not care for them; besides the master of the 
house is not in." 

The invisible speaker attempted to gently close the door, but 
the bogus Italian, as if by accident, slid his foot between the crack 
and commenced in a rapid way to praise his wares. 

"You no getta de chance to buy lika dees. Me give him to a you 
for a fifty centa. Me no sella so cheap since me came to dis a 
countara. They costa me more. Me no make de mon on me fig. 
Me lossa de mon dis a time. Dis is a nice a ting, a good ting to 
make de home like de Italian palace." 

"No, we don't care for any." 

Still Rometto persisted and continued, hoping to get a glimpse 
of her face, if nothing more. 

"No madame, jesse looka at dese fina fig. Me knowa de lady 
like to looka at de prittee tings. Disa one is Dona Juana an disa 
one is Dona Caesar, a fina pair. Me wanta go outa de biz. Me 
sella him for forty-five centa. Me wanta getta de peanut stand an 
sella de popcorn, an go backa to de old countara. I no wanta to 
come to disa countara; dey make me come to disa countar?. ; puta 
me on a bigga ship an whena me gotta to Newa York, me no wanta 
get off, but dey blinafold me and backa me off a de boat." 

At this a laugh was heard from the invisible woman. Where 
had he heard that laugh before? 


"I must see that face!" 

Thus reflecting and thinking he had got the woman interested, 
he continued : 

"Disa countara no gooda for Italian man. I no lika it. Dat's 
why me sella it cheap to getta de mon and goa back. Whata you 
say lade, you taka dem?" 

"No, I do not wish them. Come when the master is here, he 
might wish them." 

"Yesa, but you no hava de chance giva dem toa you for twenty- 
five centa. Me go outa de biz. Me no lika de biz." 

"Well, why don't you go into the cheese business?" 

He gave a start and withdrew his foot. Was this a chance 
shot that was so well aimed or was it possible that she, whoever 
she was, had penetrated his clever disguise. The voice was won- 
derfully familiar. Who could it be? He joined Arlex. They made 
up their minds whoever it was she knew _ them well and probably 
recognized something in his voice, for their disguises were impen- 

"Well, what do you think of it now, Ro?" Arlex asked. 

"Well, I think we are up against some of the cleverest people 
in the world. We can't land them by any common means. They 
won't stand any old game, for they are too wise. We will have to 
go at them rough-shod and take chances." 

"Well, as long as we have become satisfied that he is off color, 
we might as well force matters a little by breaking into the house 
and see if we can scare up any evidence against him. I think that 
we will find that he is in some way connected with the abduction of 
the girl and is the leader of a gang of shrewd crooks, the 'long 
and short' gang itself. You see how it is, the crook we let loose 
and shadowed went to Kit's house. Kit knows Palmello. The 
crook is a pal of the companion of Gordon's villainous brother, Rob- 
ert, who abducted the girl and had that running fight on the high- 
way. Palmello knew this Robert claims he knew him in Cuba 
and, mark my words, this Palmello knows where the girl is, and 
he is Gprdonjs worst enemy for some reason too deep for us- to 
fathom just now. We could see it in the exultant look that flashed 
into his face just once as Gordon was lined up for identification as 
the 'long man.' Ah, I tell you he is a hard man ! Gordon is really 
a good fellow. I hope we can find evidence enough in that house 
to railroad Palmello and free his victim." 

Retaining their present disguise, they hung about till the veiled 
woman came down the steps. She stopped on the corner, looked 
up and down (presumably for a cab). There was none in sight. 
Arlex shrank back in a doorway while his companion approached 
her. He accosted her. 

"Aha, madame, I see a you disa morn ! Me tried to sella you 
de fine fig. Me no sella him yet. Me walka alia de day. Noa boda 
wants de Dona Caesar an de Dona Juana. Me sella him toa you 
fora fifteen centa." 

"I told you this morning I did not care for them and it seems 


that you ought to have sold them before this if you have walked all 
day, as you say." 

"Wella my dear lade, you seea all of de peop no wanta de Dona 
Juana or de Dona Caesar. De all wanta de fig of dea living pic- 
tures and de fig of de coutchie. Me no carry dem kinda fig. Me 
too nice a man. Dey maka me blush whena me showa dem to de 
lade. Me no like de big peop. Me like de poora peop. You looka 
like a gooda lade. Wonta you buy? Me giva de fina fig for fifteen 
centa and take him home for you." 

"No, my good fellow, I don't want your figures at any price, 
but if you will run and call that cab for me I will give you fifteen 
cents and you can keep your figures until you run across a modest 
woman that does not care for living pictures and coochie-coochie 

The supposed Italian vender hastened to obey. She handed 
him a twenty-five cent piece, the smallest change she had, saying: 

"You may keep the other ten cents for the modesty which will 
not allow you to vend figures of living pictures. Your place, my 
poor man, is in heaven, this is purgatory." 

"Purgatora, youa say? Dey tella me de name of disa town 
was Chicoga. Dey foola me. I go to disa town youa calla heaven. 
You tella me how to goa dere? Me goa. Me no lika dis purga- 

"Well, my good fellow, I haven't time to tell you how to get 
there. You go down to the Dowie's. They will be delighted to show 
you the way." 

The bogus Italian was somewhat nonplused, but continued to 
carry out the character he represented and replied : 

"All right, me goa dare, you gooda lade. Here me give youa 
de fina fig. Me taka dem home to you. Give me your addressa." 

"No, I don't care for them. Driver, take me to the Auditorium. 
When you get there, run up and see if Mrs. Frost is in." 

"All roit, mum," replied the driver. 

The door slammed and off rattled the cab. 

"I tell you Arlex they are too smooth, that order to cabby was 
to throw us off. What goes with common criminals don't go with 
them, so we will have to force matters to an issue at once or it 
will be all over with Gordon. Did you give Jarl the office to fol- 
low her?" 

"Yes, let's see, and his partner is following Palmello." 

"That is good. Now for the burglar's act?" 

They shot up an alley and were soon working at one of the rear 
windowSj. It proved to be well secured, but this did not stop these 
persistent men. They soon forced an entrance and were hurrying 
from room to room. They familiarized themselves with the whole 
of the handsomely furnished interior. Then they made a careful 
search of Palmello's rooms, followed by every room in the house, 
but not a clue did they find and they quietly slipped out again 

The following morning at nine they saw the same graceful fig- 


tire coming along the beautiful boulevard. They now proceeded to 
carry out a bold plan. Rometto had discarded his modest figures 
of Don Juan and Don Caesar, but still kept to his disguise of the 
day before. Arlex, who had discarded his disguise altogether, ap- 
peared around the corner and pretended to put the supposed Italian 
under arrest. When the veiled figure drew near enough Arlex 
jerked his supposed prisoner along almost in front of her. Then 
there was a struggle and the supposed vender cried at the top of 
his voice : 

"Me noa bada man. You letta me go. Me noa do anyting. 
Me make de mon sella de fig." 

"Oh, you never did anything since you came to this country! 
Come on now, I'll send you out to the Bridewell." 

"No, no, me noa go ! Me make me mon sella de fig. Me hon- 
esta man." 

The veiled woman tried to pass them. As she did the vender 
applied to her, after saying to Arlex : 

"Youa no taka me. You tink me no sella de fig, me prova him 
by de lade." 

"Oh, you never did any work in your worthless life ! Come on 
I say out of the lady's way." 

"Me doa work. Dis a lade cana tella you. I sella de fig and 
maka de mon. Lade please tella di spolica-man dat I am a gooda 
man. You knowa I cornea yesterday to sella you de fig." 

As she tried to pass, she replied, "Yes, he is all right." 

"Dare, me tola you so. Me alia right. Me a gooda fell." 

Their scheme was working. Arlex now turned his attention to 
the woman and asked in a gruff tone : 

"Who are you that stands up for a vagrant and tries to inter- 
fere with the law? Raise your veil that I may see?" 

A pleasant, but slightly sarcastic voice responded: 

"My clear sir, I am a lady and I refuse to disclose my identity 
or lift my veil. Neither will I allow you to lift it for me, as I see 
you would very much desire to do." 

"Well, if you are a lady, as you say. why do you wear such a 
heavy veil?" 

Arlex was hardly prepared for the reply that came and was 
nlmost knocked off his feet as she sweetly said : 

"Why, you simple fellow, don't you see that I am so sweet that 
I am obliged to wear it when I am out, in order to keep the bees 
from sipping the honey from my lips?" 

Before he could recover from this sally Louis Palmello joined 
the strange group. He raised his hat to the woman who passed on 
into the house. Then laughing and chatting, he accompanied Arlex 
to the patrol box and lingered while he rang up the station for the 
wagon. Something seemed to greatly amuse him when the wagon 
came dashing up with a clang and a rush. Arlex had to throw his 
companion, the supposed vender, in with instructions to lock him 
and book him as a vagrant. It seemed that Palmello knew the offi- 
cer slightly and, calling him by name, inquired if he might ride 


down with him as he would like to see how they booked a prisoner. 
His wish was readily granted, and he, the "long man/' soon had the 
satisfaction of seeing Rometto, the detective and his enemy, locked 
in a cell he so justly deserved to occupy himself a place he knew 
well Rometto and his companion Arlex. were trying to land 
him. He was greatly amused as he passed Ro's cell. On his way 
out he imitated Ro's assumed dialect and said : 

"How does the Italian man 'lika de cold stones and de iron 
bars to playa de checkers on with de nose?'" 

"De checkers? Ah mea, mea play a good game. You playa 
gooda game too. Dis is youa move. De next is mya move. You 
laugh at de poor Italian man. I playa gooda game. I beeta you. 
Den I laugh a last. Ah, you no like dat? Well, me giva de fina 
gentleman de laugh lika dis. See?" 

Rometto, the supposed vender, imitated what is commonly called 
the horse laugh. This was the last thing Palmello heard as he 
passed out. He stopped to exchange a word with an official and 
when he left the supposed Italian was at his heels in a new disguise. 


To mention his name had been all that was necessary for Ro- 
metto to obtain his release from the peculiar predicament Palmello 
had forced him into by accompanying him to the station. He now 
followed him into a "fan-tan" joint kept by a well-known Chinese 
gambler called "Chop Suey," called thus for his liking for that 
dainty dish. This place was patronized by all classes. It re- 
sembled the House of all Nations, the only difference being in the 
sex of the frequenters and occupants. Rometto noticed that he 
made a signup a smooth faced man, almost a youth in years, but 
plainly old in crime, who soon after left the building. Seeing 
Jarl in the crowd that hung around the "fan-tan" and "stud tables/' 
he transferred his attention to this new edition. The man walked 
along some distance halting near the federal building. After 
talking a few minutes with a hackman, he exchanged coats, pinning 
the cabman's license in a conspicuous place, mounted the box and 
drove off. Hiring another rig, Rometto kept the other in view 
until it at last brought up in front of Palmello's. He seemed to 
be waiting for some one, but no one appeared. 

The afternoon passed. The driver only left his post to step 
around the corner and refresh himself with some lunch. The de- 
tective took advantage of this and caught a snack of something to 
cat himself. Shortly after, Palmello entered the house, paying no 
attention to the cab whatever; but later he and the veiled woman 
appeared and enetered the vehicle which was 'soon rumbling off. 
Apparently the driver knew where he was to go beforehand. Some- 
thing was certainly on foot. Leaving Jarl to watch the house, the 
two detectives followed the rig ten miles into the country along the 
old Sheridan road, then it turned and passed them on its way back 


to the city. The driver wore a broad grin, and they saw the cab 
was empty. Sold ! Instead of trying to stop the smiling driver 
they cut off into a side road, and by hard driving were just in 
time to catch an in-going train. They might foil their scheme 
yet, whatever it was. Securing a cab, they drove at once toward 
Palmello's residence. As they were rolling along in no pleasant 
frame of mind, a closed hack passed them at full speed. A 
smothered cry, mingled with the confusion and noise of the street, 
faintly reached their ears. _ The detectives quickly reversed their 
course and gave chase, believing they were now near their quest. 
For miles they kept the suspicious looking rig in sight. Soon the 
country road were reached and they became .more cautious, allow- 
ing it to precede them at some distance until it at last drove up 
before a deserted-looking farm house belted in with unkept shrubs 
and trees. The driver descended and the two eager detectives who 
were now driving at full speed saw two men disappear in the 
grounds with some object between them. Was it Dorris? They 
were not mistaken. 

After a desperate fight with two determined-looking individu- 
als, who were taken unawares, they succeeded in gracing their 
wrists with handcuffs. Then searching the house, their suspjcions 
were verified by finding a lovely, but pale looking girl, a prisoner 
in one of the rooms a room seemingly built for the purpose for 
which it was now being utilized. She seemed to be asleep. They 
tried to arose her. It was useless, so they carried her to the car- 

When she did at last lift the lashes that hid those honest 
brown eyes, it was to find herself in her own little home. She 
gazed at the kind face of Doctor Warder, the family physician, 
then at the happy but grief-lined, tear-stained face of her poor 
mother there was joy in the little vine-clad cottage once more. 
She insisted on being told of Gordon's plight. 

Shortly after, although the hour was late, the Waite carriage 
driven by Henry, who was smiling from ear to ear from joy over 
his mistress' return, drew up before the gloomy building in which 
Gordon was held prisoner. Mrs. Waite and Dorris, weak and pale, 
descended and were ushered in by the two detectives, Arlex and 
Rometto. They found Gordon still awake and pacing the damp 
cell. The sight almost set her wild. She cried out to him. He 
ceased his pacing to and fro and looked out through the iron bars 
with amazed "and incredulous eyes. Then the cell was quickly un- 
locked by the turnkey and these two true hearts were once more 
united in a fond embrace. The scene was affecting, and even the 
turnkey felt an itching of the forehead and cleared his throat 
several times while he jingled his keys with unusual vehemence. 
Explanations were made and given. 

The detectives found Tarl bound and gagged in Palmello s 
grounds. The following day they witnessed the novelty of a wed- 
ding in prison. Dorris and Gordon, although both pure in mind, 
thought and intention, realized to the fullest extent their apparent 


unworthiness of each other. Fate and the clever scheme of a 
scoundrel had forced this condition of affairs; but knowing that 
they had not willingly sinned, they gave their hearts to one another 
and joined hards to breast the future, supported by each others love. 

They decided that as soon as he had gained his liberty, they 
would leave for England. 

The detectives now sent two other men with Jarl to Sunnyside 
to guard them at the cottage. Palmello offered his services, but 
they informed him that it would not be required. 

Palmello now divided his time between the jail and Ivy cot- 
tage. In both places he was received as a friend. Gordon, Dor- 
ris and Mrs. Wnite suspected nothing of the truth. He seemed to 
be doing everything in his power to obtain Gordon's release, and 
they were grateful accordingly. 


The day of the trial arrived. Hundreds of merchants who had 
suffered at the hands of the bold bandits were on hand to testify. 
Crowds of curious people filled the large court-room, lined the stair- 
ways and swarmed about the entrances. It required and extra detail 
of officers to keep order. The overworked officials, from patrolmen 
to mayor wore a pleased look of relief believing for the time that 
their efforts had at last been rewarded by the capture of the leader 
of the bold bandits, who was the cause of the Wicked City's great 
carnival of crime. The detectives. Rometto and Arlex, were also 
on hand with several witnesses besides Giles, the lawyer, and two 
other gentlemen from London, who testified to the previous good 
character and high standing of the prisoner in London. Then Arlex, 
Rometto and some others testified as to his good character as they 
knew it in Chicago. They brought forward witnesses to prove an 
alibi. The handkerchief was the most damaging evidence against 
him and as it was held in the hands of the presiding attorney, al- 
most every eye in_ the crowded court room gazed uoon it. so small 
yet so large, so insignificant, yet so important. This little bit of 
silk might hang its owner. Indeed, it looked that way until the 
detectives brought in their last and most important witness. It 
was old Giles who had travelled all the way from London to be 
on hand to testify. Hlaving never been in a court room before, 
everything was strange to him. He hardly knew what they wished 
as they motioned him towards the witness box ; so he passed by, 
mounted the next platform, and blindly dropped into a seat beside 
the judge himself. This caused a titter, and Giles formed a poor 
opinion of America right then and there: but the next moment he 
moderated ^hat opinion for the judge spoke to him in a kind voice 
and told him that he had made a mistake, and pointed out the wit- 
ness box. If they had been inclined to laugh at the poor old fel- 
low at the commencement, they were inclined to shout when he had 
finished giving his testimony about the wonderful clock being 


stolen, and along with it a case and a lot of handkerchieves and 
other things ; then of the clock turning up here in Chicago. It 
weakened the case against Gordon considerably, for the same thief 
that stole the wonderful clock and linen might be either the "long" 
or "short" man, and had accidently dropped the handkerchief while 
holding up the store. It was a good point, and the attorney for 
the defendant made the most of it in his argument to the jury later. 
Giles descended and took a seat near the ladies, who were accom- 
panied by Palmello. 

Gordon was now put on the stand, and states prosecutor asked 
him some pointed questions. These he answered civilly, but 
shrewdly. He closed by asking the prisoner where this mysterious 
clock was at the present time. Gordon answered that it was in 
the hands of his brother. 

"And where is your brother?" 

He did not know, but thought he was in Chicago. 

"Are you positive that this mysterious clock is not an imagin- 
ary clock? What you and the witness before you have testified to 
regarding it seems all very strange. kind of flowery, you know?" 

He assured him that he was telling nothing but the truth. 

"Why is not your brother in the court room?" 

"I can answer no question regarding my brother." 

As he spoke, he was noticed to look in the direction of Dorris 
and shudder. 

"That is all." 

He was escorted by two burly policemen to a seat. The de- 
tectives now approached him and asked, 

"Can you give us a description of the clock?" 

Yes, he could and did. Then they told him of the clock they 
had at the downtown quarters. 

"It is undoubtedly the same one." 

Rometto and Arlex hurried away, and soon returned with it. 
Yes, it was the clock. How did it come in their possession? They 
informed him and offered it as evidence. 

The jury were only a short time, when they filed in and took 
their seats. The detectives watched Palmello like hawks. 

"We find the prisoner not guilty." 

They saw Palmello clinch his hands and half jump to his feet, 
but he quickly recovered himself, and was almost the first one at 
the late prisoner's side to congratulate him. Then came Dorris 
and Mrs. Waite and the others. As they all crowded around, with 
tears in their eyes, they were startled and pleased by hearing the 
beautiful chimes of the clock, as if it were, like the rest, welcoming 
him back to freedom. It was a happy party which later on gathered 
around the long extertion table at Ivy cottage and listened to the 
lawyer's light talk. Palmello seemed the most delighted of all at 
the turn of affairs. No subject of a serious nature was brought 
up and everything was serene. But the detectives were on their 
guard. They saw deviltry in the air. 

The bride and groom had decided to start for England the 


following morning and take Mrs. Waite and her two servants with 
them, but Henry's face fell when they told him he was to go to 
London to live. He did not seem pleased at the idea of leaving 
America, so they told him he might stay and look after the cottage. 
Gordon gave him a hundred dollar bill. 

"Good land, massa, it'd take me all summer to spent dat !" 
"Well, it will hardly take- you that long to spend it, if you get 
the 'dice heated up' like I saw you once when we were looking for 
Dprris' abductors. Well, shoot craps and do anything you like 
with it and when you need more, send to me." 

He also gave Jarl's bowery chum a nice present of money and 
thanked them all for their faithfulness to him while in his great 
trouble. Leaving the lawyer with his companions from England 
and the detective to guard against what might happen, he hunted 
up Jarl and left for the citv's center to pack and once more prepare 
to depart for home. Palmello had accompanied them, but left soon 
after arriving, saying he would be on hand to bid them good-bye 
and Godspeed the following morning. The lawyer had insisted 
that the clock should be taken back to England as he was in a 
certain degree responsible for it until it gave up its second and last 
secret. So this^ strange clock, which seemed bound to plav such a 
prominent part in their lives, was packed with the rest of the things. 
This packing took some time, and it was late when they returned 
to Sunnyside. As they came in sight of Ivy cottage, a clock in the 
distance tolled off the hour twelve midnight. 


They knew that the two detectives were in the house on watch, 
and with them was the bowery boy, Jimmie, Henry, Giles, the 
lawyer and his two friends. Certainly no harm could come to his 
love with a guard like this. Still he felt a foreboding of evil. He 
quickened his pace, making Jarl almost run to keep up with him. 
They were about to turn into the bit of woods to make a short cut 
to the house, when they heard the galloping of horses in the rear. 
Pressing back among the bushes, they waited. Soon a body of five 
horsemen appeared and drew rein near by. He clutched Jarl's 

"Great God ! It is my fiendish brother ! Look at his face ! It is 
like a death head." 

Indeed the face looked ghostly and peculiar in the bright moon- 
light. They listened as the other figures gathered around their 
leader and began to converse in low tones, not so low but that 
they reached the ears of the silent watchers. 

^ "Number "2," you and I will present ourselves at the front 
while numbers "3," "4," and "5" cover the rear. Now remember, 

the girl and Gordon are not to be injured, for I want one for h 

and the other for heaven." 


Only too well Gordon understood what this meant. But this 
should not be. He would sooner end Dorris' life with his own hand. 
The commanding voice of the leader rang sharp and quick on his 

"If you get a chance, just make cold meat of those two detec- 
tives. They are getting too soon to suit me." 

"All right, captin, we'll shorten em up a little ef we get a 

"Now there is one more thing. Don't put yourself in the way 
of a bullet if you can help it. It is unhealthy work to try and 
stop them. Remember, if we don't get them to-night, we will get 
them at the station in the morning. It is a cinch. They can't get 
away from us. Remember, now, 'croak the elbows' if you can, 
but by no means kill Gordon. He must have gotten back long 
before this, and I want him alive. We will wait till number "6" 
comes up with the rig, and then to business, and look to yourselves. 
Don't go to sleep, but keep your lamps peeled. It's better to dodge 
a bullet than to stop it." 

"All right, captin. We appreciate the compliment. Ye tinks 
we're too good t' lose." 

"Well, you fellows are all right in your way, but you will weigh 
an ounce too much if one of those flybobs gets a shot at you." 

Gordon and Jarl were afraid to move. They heard the roll 
of a carriage and the horsemen turned seemingly to meet it. Now 
was their opportunity, they acted quickly. Giving Jarl instructions 
to run and awaken all the neighbors in the immediate vicinity, 
he made a detour to the summer house. There, screened from 
view of the bandits by the arbor which led to the house, he was 
soon inside, relating what he saw and heard to the detectives who 
were wide-awake and on guard expecting trouble. 

Hearing a noise on the highway, Rometto glanced out. He 
saw a band of five horsemen, all determined looking fellows. They 
came cantering up and surrounded the house. The face of the 
leader was similar in outline to their friend Gordon's, but it was 
white and seemingly bloodless. It looked weird and ghostly in the 

"Well, that knocks our theory that Palmello is the 'long man'," 
he whispered to Arlex. 

Arlex peeped out from behind the curtain. 

"Yes, so it does, that fellow with the pimply face is the notori- 
ous 'short man,' a man that can swear more in a minute than a 
preacher can pray in a month. They are a hard gang and we have 
got fighting to do, if we prevent them from getting what they 
came for, and if we capture them, which we shall certainly attempt, 
we will have to call up the wagon from the morgue as the chief 

"Well, we will give them a whirl. Just touch Henry up over 

Henry, who was snoring on a lounge in the corner, was soon 


on his feet, rubbing his eyes as he gazed out at the two men in 

"Dat air man with the white face is de one dat carried Miss 
Dorris oft" 

The rest were now aroused. 

"Have you a cellar under your house?" Rometto inquired of 
the ladies, who appeared, hastily dressed in their slippers and robes, 
greatly excited. 

"Yes," they replied. 

"Is it warm and dry?" 

"Yes, indeed." 

"Well, ladies, go down there out of the way of a chance bul- 
let, and we will have a talk with these gentlemen callers of yours 
and see if we cannot persuade them that this is not a proper calling 

Dorris insisted on staying above and even showed a tiny pistol 
but they forced them both to go below with their maid. They were 
hardly out of the way when the leader rapped on the door with the 
butt of his riding whip. Rometto and Arlex clutched their weapons 
and were about to open it and confront the bandits, when Gordon 
stopped them. 

"Do not open the door yet. Parley with them, if you can, until 
Jarl gathers the men of the neighborhood. In my excitement I had 
forgotten to tell you of this." 

"Well, possibly for the ladies' sake it would be better to 
wait a few minuites, but we must not lose this opportunity to cap- 
ture them and we intend to do it, dead or alive. We have orders 
to kill them on sight, and that is what we will have to do, if Jarl 
does not_ gather up a force large enough to assist us." 

Again the rap was repeated, louder and more imperative. 

"Well, kill the others, if you wish, and I'll help you, but do 
not kill the leader. He " 

This sentence was cut short by a fierce rapping and a voice, 
familiar to all in the room, ordered them to open. Rometto inquired 
who it was and what they wished. 

"Well, my name is Bob Long, and I want my wife, Dorris 

"You have no wife here." 

"Well, I won't have one here long, for I have come to take her 
away. Will you give her up without a fight, or do you want us to 
start a circus? We mean business. We have come for her and are 
not going back without her." 

"The lady you call your wife is not here." 

"Well, we will just come in and take a look around, anyway." 

"How are you going to get in, if we decide not to let you in?" 

"We will break your door in, then break your head in." 

"Well, go ahead with the circus, for we won't let you in just 

If you don't open up and deliver up, we will ride through the 
house, get what we want and then burn it over you." 


The dare-devil speaker chirped to his horse, a spirited animal, 
who shot around the house out of sight. The pimply-faced bandit 
slipped to the off side of his horse, a position which sheltered him 
from a chance bullet. The Englishmen, who had been stationed 
to watch the rear and sides of the house with orders to shoot down 
the first man that crossed _the threshold, thought this was a sample 
of everyday life in America, and tried to appear brave and calm 
accordingly. So when they saw the white-faced leader of the ban- 
dits swing around the corner, they were prepared to use the weap- 
ons shoved into their hands (articles they probably held for the 
first time in their lives). They saw the leader suddenly stop near 
the rear, then jerking his steed onto its haunches, backed him as 
soon as his forefeet again touched the ground. He had dexterously 
brought the whole weight of the horse suddenly against the door. 
It gave way with a crash, shaking the whole building. Clearing the 
saddle, he darted inside, closely followed by two others, leaving 
one to hold the animals. It was swiftly and cleverly done. They 
had all gained an entrance before the Englishmen could recover 
from their surprise. But on hearing a report from Red's pistol, 
followed by one from Arlex and Rometto, it put them in mind of 
the weapons in their own hands. Then, shooting right and left in the 
darkness, they soon emptied their pistols. Gordon and Arlex 
guarded the cellar door, while Rometto was kept busy exchanging 
shots with Red on the outside. It was so dark on the inside that it 
was impossible to distinguish friend from foe. This is what the 
robbers had calculated upon. They quickly went through the lower 
chambers, and then to the upper ones in one of which they supposed 
Dorris was to be found. Gordon and Arlex were not positive 
whether it was the Englishmen or the bandits, therefore^they quickly 
barricaded the door with anything they could get their hands on. 
Whoever it was, they had them prisoners. Amid the thud of bullets, 
cracking of vases and shattering of glass, they had heard a cry and 
moan. Some one must have been wounded. Leaving Gordon to 
guard the ladies, Arlex went to the rear. A revolver was shoved 
into his face and the hammer fell, but it was empty. To this fact 
he owed his life. It was one of the Englishmen. Seeing this, he 
spoke and gathered the rest together and reloaded their weapons. 
One was wounded, how badly they could not tell. This had all 
happened in less time than it takes to relate. They now heard a 
shrill whistle from Red who was lying behind his dead horse. There 
was a rush down stairs by the bandits. This was a signal of danger, 
the signal to make their "get-away." The weight of these desperate 
men was hurled against the door, but it refused to give. They 
had no horse to back through it this time. Rometto now joined the 
others as he supposed Red was dead behind his slain steed. The 
detective raised his voice above the din and commanded them to 
surrender. The only reply to this was a curse and a laugh, followed 
by three or four shots, the bullets tearing their way through the 
door. One lodged with spent force in the shoulder of Rometto. 
The detectives now made up their minds to show no mercy but kill 


them all like rats in a trap. They poured volley after volley 
through the door. Then there was a scampering up the stairs. 
Again that piercing whistle was heard. Red, uninjured, with the 
exception of a slight flesh wound, had crept put from behind the 
horse and made his way around the house and joined his companion 
who had charge of the other animals. 

"Say, pal, my horse is dead, and there is a whole army comin 
down de road. We've got t' stir up de boys an blow." 

The two outlaws now mounted and leading the other two 
horses, skirted the summer house, halting in the shadows cast by 
some large oaks. Again Red blew the warning whistle. What was 
the matter? Were they dead? No, there they were. They saw 
three forms spring from as many different windows onto the roof 
of the veranda. 

Men could now be seen coming from all directions. Jarl was 
just entering the grounds puffing and blowing, with two large 
revolvers in his hands, but he was just a little too late, as were 
the rest. Red had taken in the situation at a glance and was 
galloping with his pal and the lead animals alongside the veranda. 
Like the trained athletes these bandits were, they dropped down on 
the horses and were off like a shot, Red's new steed carrying a 
double load until they reached the waiting rig. Then it was light- 
ened to one. 

The detectives emerged from the house just in time to catch 
a glimpse of them as they disappeared among the trees. A number 
of neighbors had assembled, two or three with horses. Jumping 
on these, Rometto and Arlex set off in pursuit. An hour later, 
after a hard ride and a bitter fight, they returned with the two 
that had tried to escape in the carriage. It was numbers "5" 
and "6" of the "Wit Club." One was dead and the other wounded. 
The living robber was handcued to the dead one. ^This sight 
almost upset the honest folk that had gathered. When it was over 
and the firing had ceased, Gordon and the lawyer found Dorris and 
the serving woman with white faces, working over Mrs. Waite 
who had fainted. They immediately sent for Dr. Warder and for 
the next two hours the pretty house was turned into a regular 
hospital. _ The doctor, after dressing the wounds and reviving 
the fainting, talked quite earnestly with the detectives and Gordon, 
advising them to take the ladies from the scene of the late trouble 
at once. The consequence was that the whole party was speeding 
on its way to New York City, bound for England, before the shad- 
ows of the night had lifted. 

The Englishman's wound proved of trivial importance, and the 
ladies were much improved by the change. The excitement of 
travel and the sea breezes were very beneficial to all who had passed 
through such harassing scenes scenes that had left Dorris' face as 
sad as it was sweet. Mrs. Waite was the saddest of all, but she 
found great comfort in prayer. They all three were, in spite of 
sad looks, quite happy in the love they bore one another. 



Once settled in her English home, Dorris brightened up a 
great deal, and began to take an interest in the many society people 
who had so readily and immediately interested themselves in the 
lovely but sad-faced American girl. 

Meantime the holdup series were continued. The bandits 
defied the police and terrorized the city, to the surprise of the 
officials and the merchants, who thought they had ceased operations. 
They now committed deeds so daring and novel as to cause the 
whole country to stare and wonder. The fame of the "long and 
short" bandits reached every city and hamlet, from the rock-bound 
coast of Maine to the Golden Gate of California, from the dreary 
North to the sunny South. Their capture was, of course, expected 
every day, as it had been for months past. Still the outlaws robbed 
on, and the police worked on. In the history of the world, for 
generations back, there never was a time that a body of brave and 
true _ men were force to such extremes. It seemed strange to the 
public that the "long and short" men could commit such bold deeds 
and escape capture, while thousands of police were on the watch 
with weapons ready at hand, and an order from their overworked 
pnd harassed chief was to call only the wagon from the morgue if 
they were found. Still, such was the case. But when hundreds of 
citizens have corroborated with each other in their description of 
the "long and short" men, (as ore being white faced and ghostly 
looking, and the other with a red face covered with a score of 
pimples) how could they expect the police to dish them up^to their 
anxious gaze in the form of the dark faced Spanish-looking gen- 
tleman, who was on intimate terms with the best people of Chicago, 
(the people who were looking for his capture) or the spooky look- 
ing individual who could be seen most any day on the levee, with- 
out a blotch on his smooth shaven visage? Even Rometto and 
Arlex, after being so near the real truth, were forced to give up 
the theory of Palmello' s being the "long man," for they had seen 
the "long and short" men at close range. He could not work such a 
complete change. Their suspicions of him were unfounded, and 
they, like the rest of the force ; were obliged to drop back into the 
old rut and gallop over the city with the others, on their endless 
and useless hunt for a pimply face and a pale face. Hundreds were 
found and locked up as "suspects" but still the robberies and bold 
holdups went on. They failed to see the veiled woman again, and 
later on, when Palmello bade his many friends good-bye, expressing 
his intentions of visiting London, they thought^ nothing strange of 
it. But strange to say, the holdups were again suddenly discon- 
tinued, and as before, the last merchants held up, Stein & Co., 
were informed by the humorous two that this was the "long and 
short" of it ; and as they were a little short, they would shorten 
up the cash box. 

Palmello had only given up one amusement (as he called it) 
to take up another more amusing. In fact, he had given up, for the 


time being, his bloody work in Chicago, to take up with something 
more fiendish in London. He was about to carry out a plan that 
would fully satisfy his craving for revenge upon Gordon and his 
unholy passion for his beautiful wife. His intended victims, all 
unconscious of the terrible trials again in store for them, welcomed 
the arch fiend with open arms and he was soon a well-known figure 
in the society circle in which his prey moved. He worked his way 
into the good graces of all by his pleasant manner and fine appear- 
ance. With plenty of money (the profits from the carnival of crime 
that had so lately struck the great American city) he was soon in 
touch with some of the best people of London, and a member of the 
same fashionable club where, some years back, he had stained the 
rich carpets with the blood of one of its most prominent members. 
He was introduced to many he had known in his college days, 
when he was devoid of sin (his character then being as white as the 
paper beneath these lines. But, ah! what had he degenerated to? 
It was easy to see what, as he entered the low "boozing ken" kept 
by "Butch," his early accomplice in crime). 

He wore a cloak and soft hat for the occasion, not wishing 
any of his new acquaintances to recognize him. The same motley 
throng of booze grafters was hanging about. Some thought the 
new comer was a detective, and one or two edged out and shot 
down the street. Among those inside was "Happy Sal" with a 
new "side partner" who on the contrary was called "Cranky Ann," 
a former partner of the well-known London character called "Moll 
Cutpurse." These two immediately intercepted him as he was mak- 
ing for the little back room, but he immediately sent them scurrying 
back to their seats with these few curt words in the crook dialect : 

"Get next to yourself now and 'blow.' You're on a dead one. 
Your lamps must need trimming if they are so dim as to pick me 
out a 'live one.' " 

Without a word, they reseated themselves, somewhat taken 
back by their mistake. 

Palmello passed on and was soon engaged in a low conversa- 
tion with the villianous "Butch.'^ When he^ at last left, it was with 
a smile on his face, and a fiendish glitter in his eye. A new plot 
had been hatched. 

Gordon ever since the awful experience in Chicago had been 
in the habit of taking long walks by himself. He tried to forget as 
did Dorris, but neither could fully shake off a certain feeling 
of depression that would sometimes creep in and interrupt their 
happiness. This peculiar feeling forced itself on him today, while 
lying in the hammock under a shady tree of the beautiful grounds. 

Dorris and Palmello were sitting not far away, watching Toots, 
who could boast of a trip across the great pond and seemed more 
jealous than ever since his mistress came back. He was now all 
alone in her regard for Bonny Bess and the little robins were left 


far behind. The sagacious dog seemed almost human in his realiza- 
tion of this. 

Rising, Gordon called to Giles to bring his coat and cane. He 
soon appeared with them and feebly attempted to assist his master 
into the coat. But Palmello, apparently out of kindness, took it 
from his hands and assisted Gordon to don it. While doing so, he, 
with the cleverness of a professional, abstracted all the letters and 
papers which might serve to identify him. They knew of old his 
habit of taking his lonely walks, so there was no comment. Regard- 
less of Palmello's presence, whom they considered almost one of the 
family, he drew his young wife to his breast in which there beat a 
heart of gold, full of love for her. Lifting her chin, he looked long 
and earnestly into the pretty brown eyes; then bending his manly 
head, he pressed a good-bye kiss on the sweet mouth, the last he 
was to give for many a day. Waving his hand to Mrs. Waite, who 
could be seen at the window, he left for his usual stroll to his 

The sun was just setting as they joined Mrs. Waite in the hand- 
somely furnished sitting room, where the beautiful clock was faith- 
fully working away in its old place on the mantle. Time passed. 
It struck eight. Gordon should have returned long ago. Dorris 
looked at the time and then at Palmello with questioning and anx- 
ious eyes. She did not dare speak before her mother regarding 
his unusually long absence, for she knew it would greatly worry and 
excite her, as she was still very nervous and weak. Mrs. Waite 
soon retired to her room. Hardly was she out of hearing when 
Dorris sprang to her feet and exclaimed: 

"Oh, Mr. Palmello, I feel that something has happened to my 
husband ! He never stayed away so late without sending word." 

"If he does not return soon, I will go on a hunt for him," Pal- 
mello replied. 

The beautiful chimes tolled off another hour, but still he did 
not come. Dorris was becoming really frightened. She looked with 
pleading eyes at Palmello, who arose with apparent concern and 
prepared to depart in quest of him as she supposed. 

"Before I leave, allow me to order you a glass of wine. You 
look faint." 

"No, thank you." 

"A glass of water, then?" 

"Well, a glass of water, if you will be so kind." 

He was so kind, and even so kind as to take it from Giles' 
hand at the dining room door, telling him it would save him a few 
steps in his old age. This strange man seemed to play with the 
world, juggle with the people in it, and manipulate matters so^ dex- 
terously as to bring about almost any condition of affairs he wished. 

"Now then, Mrs. Long, drink this and retire. I will soon send 
Gordon to you. He has probably met a friend or two more than 

With this assurance, which had double meaning, he was off. 


Partaking of the water, she first visited Gordon's rooms, then 
retired to her own and donned a loose wrapper, after which she sat 
down to wait. She soon began to feel drowsy. It was all she 
could do to keep her lids from closing over her anxious eyes in 
sleep. The wind was whistling around the corners of the mansion 
with a kind of droning, dreary sound. 

"It must be this," she thought, for it put her in mind of the 
two large pines in her American home, the pines she was born and 
brought up beside. But listen! There was a step on the stair. A 
glad light appeared in her eyes which chased away the dullness for 
a moment. 

"My husband ! Ah, my dear Gordon, at last." 

She tried to rise, but as soon as the strain on her mind (due 
to her husband's absence) was released, the drug Palmello had given 
her in the glass of water now held her chained, a prisoner a pris- 
oner to his will. As this strange villain crossed the threshold and 
polluted the room he had as a boy made merry with his joyous 
shouts, he found her as he expected, unconscious and completely 
tinder the influence of the wonderful drug. 


The wind that whistled and moaned around the mansion on that 
never-to-be-forgotten night also sped on and tore around the high 
walls of the gloomy looking prison from -which number "49" had so 
cleverly escaped. Gordon, the absent husband, heard it with a 
shudder. He was there a prisoner, a victim of Robert's clever 
scheme, assisted by "Butch." 

For many days Gordon's merciless guard made his life a liv- 
ing hell, under the mistaken impression that he was venting his 
pent-up spite on his old enemy, number "49," Gordon's degenerate 
half-brother. He would keep him at the crank until he would fall 
from exhaustion. Then he would brutally kick him into life again. 
He often used his victim's pale and bloodless face for a cuspidor, 
often knocking him down with his brawny fist if he objected, as he 
generally did. Gordon reneatedly asked to see the Governor, but 
this privilege was denied him. so he suffered on, the victim of his 
brother's duplicity and vengeance. 

The suspicion of this caused him untold agony, for if it were 
so, might not Dorris also be in his power as before? The thought 
was horrible, but he forced it from his mind as much as possible 
in order to keen him from going mad. The predicament that his 
unprincipled brother's ingenuity had forced him into in an American 
prison, had not been so trying as this, as he met with kindness by 
the officials. Here his brutal. and vindictive guard would not allow 
him the slightest communication with the outside world, until one 
day, a card was brousrht to him by the guard with the broken nose, 
under which was a diabolical grin. The peculiar message written on 
it seemed to tickle him greatly, although he did not understand it. 
Poor Gordon received it with eager fingers, which trembled as they 


turned it over, thinking deliverance was at hand ; but instead what 
he read caused him to cry put in despair. His worst suspicions 
were verified, even Dorris might be at his mercy ! 

"Do you hear the bells jingling on the jesters cap?" 

For the first time in his life a curse fell from his white lips, 
which caused the grin on the guard's ugly features to turn into a 
harsh laugh. Noticing this, Gordon cursed the sender and the 
bearer as he swaggered off down the corridor. Gordon had noticed 
a hack below on the street, also that the driver often looked up 
at the little grated window with something more than common in- 
terest. Why did he look at this particular window so often? -Could 
he be a friend? Did he know of his predicament? In the cell he 
found some fine scraps of ruled writing paper, remnants left by the 
original number "49." 

"If I only had a pin, I could prick a message on a piece of 
paper and drop it down to the hackman." 

But a pin was not to be found. Tearing off a strip of his nail 
with his sharp teeth, he managed to prick a short message, the num- 
ber of his residence and name. Dropping this as soon as he caught 
the hackman looking up, he had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes 
follow it as it fluttered zig-zag fashion to the ground near him. 
Then descending from his high perch, he picked it up and read it 
as he slowly returned to his rig. But what was Gordon's surprise 
and disappointment when he saw him turn full around and shake 
one clenched hand at the grated window, while he tossed the precious 
note under the horses' feet! What could it mean? Later he 
pricked other messages and sent them adrift on the breeze, praying 
that they might find an intelligent interpreter who would appreciate 
and act. With a prayer on his lips he would cast himself down 
and try to rest his feverish brain with a few winks of sleep ; but 
even this was denied him, for his persecutor every half hour would 
flash a strong glare of light in his eyes while he would ask in an 
apparently sympathetic tone if he was sleeping well. He could not 
eat, and he was not allowed to sleep. This, combined with tne men- 
tal strain and overwork at the crank and treadmill at the mercy of 
the relentless guard, was fast making a wreck of him. He bore up 
bravely, even after hope seemed gone and he had resigned himself 
to his fate. Still a faint hope fluttered in his breast, but who does 
not hope even after all hope is gone? We all hope, even the man 
condemned to be hung has^ hope till his foot strikes the plank of 
the gallows. The consumptive as he is panting with his last breath 
hopes for life with some degree of faith. Hope is a word that plays 
a more prominent part in our lives than we know. 

Leaving Gordon with this friend. Hope, to brace ut> the heart' 
his brother had sworn to plant gravestones around, (and has planted 
a stone wall around his body as well) we will return to the mansion. 

Toward the gray of morn. Palmello crept in by means of the 
old rusty key. It was some minutes before Giles appeared. 

"Has your master returned yet?" 

"Oi did not know 'e was out." 


"Well, he went away about dusk to take a stroll, as you know, 
and did not return. Mrs. Long sent me to look for him. I have 
so far been unable to find him. Inform your mistress that I have 
returned, while I go up to my room and tidy up a little." 

A few moments later a knock came to the door of his room 
the same room he had occupied as a boy. It was Giles. 

"I culdn't awaken my mistress, so I have jes sent 'er maid up 
to 'er." 

"All right. If she wishes to see me I'll be in the smoking room. 
Call me." 

About an hour later, Giles came to tell him that she wished 
to see him immediately in the parlor. He presented himself with 
well assumed haste and concern for the news he brought and at 
the remorse she felt for falling asleep while waiting for the sound of 
his footsteps, a sound she remembered hearing, then that strange 
sleep directly after, causing her to reel and fall into a chair. 

Eight o'clock and still he did not appear. The whole house 
now knew of his strange absence. Palmello again went in search of 
him. Later, Dorris, herself, ordered the carriage and drove from 
place to place, but no one had seen him, neither was his name on 
the books at the police station or hospitals. Almost distracted, she 
returned to see if Palmello had found a clew. None. For days 
she was almost frantic. Then came the calm of despair. 

Palmello, backed by his evil designs, for propriety's sake now 
took up his residence at the "Savoy." He was apparently doing 
everything in his power to find his friend, but in reality was putting 
obstacles in the way. When Dorris supposed he was out in search 
for him, he might at times be found at the gaming tables the 
500 reward he had shared with "Butch," which was quite a large 
sum. In the history of all criminals, there never was a circumstance 
quoted where one received the reward for his own apprehension. 
The thought of this seemed to furnish him great amusement.^ 

In spite of the latest capture of "long and short" suspects, Ro 
and Arl were not entirely satisfied. They still worked on the theory 
that the leader of the bold gang was yet at large. They had seen 
the "long and short" men at close range and they were as positive 
that the "long man" was still at liberty as they were on the other 
hand that the "short man" was in the mighty grip of the law. Some 
of the gang now under arrest were previously noticed by the detec- 
tives to enter "Break-o'-Day" Kit's place. They now gave her a 
call, but found it useless to look for a "tip" from her. She met all 
of their cleverly put questions with a smile and a remark about the 
coming election or the weather. But they made a discovery which 
puzzled them very much. "Break-o'-Day" Kit was the veiled woman. 

Sauntering down Wabash avenue one day, they dropped in at 
the buffet where Henry, the colored man. was still filling the posi- 
tion Gordon had secured for him before his departure. While they 


were joking about his experience on the highway that fatal night 
(which came near being his last), an acquaintance from the Lex- 
ington chanced in. They were soon in conversation about the "long 
and short" men. In fact, this was the main topic of conversation 
throughout the city just at this period. They mentioned Robert 

"I suppose you have not seen him since he left his quarters," 
the detectives inquired in an off-hand way. 

"Why, yes, I have seen him many times." 

Henry and the detectives stared in open-mouthed surprise. At 
last they managed to ejaculate, 

"What are you trying to give us?" 

"I am not trying to give you anything but what's straight," 
their friend replied. "Why, what of it? What are you staring at 
me like that for?" 

"Well, it's enough to make a fellow stare. You say you have 
seen him often?" 

"Why, yes, I have seen him many times." 

"Where did you see him and when?" 

"Well, I have met him often down town. One day I saw him 
at the City Hall with a couple of detectives. At another time, I saw 
him drive by in his carriage on Michigan boulevard. At another 
time I saw him at the Board where he was speculating on stock and 
grain. I have seen him at the Mendon club, Hawson club and Bel- 
viden club. But say, come to think of it, I have seen him with you." 

The detectives smiled incredulously and replied, 

"Oh no, you are mistaken, that was a Mr. Palmello, a Cuban, 
darker than a Spaniard. Robert Long is a fair looking man and is 
a perfect picture of his brother, Gordon. You know Gordon, of 
course ?" 

"Why yes, I know Gordon well; but Gordon is light and fair 
while Robert is dark and has no resemblance whatever except in 
outline of features, and even this is a similarity that one would 
hardly notice." 

"Did you ever see them together, Mr. Lindslay?" 

"Well come to think about it, I never saw them together; but 
I know them both well and Gordon used to call quite often at the 
hotel where I would meet him on the way to his brother's room." 

"Well, you certainly must be mistaken, for Gordon and Robert 
look so much alike that Gordon came very near going over the road 
for him." 

It was their friend's turn now to stare and look incredulous, 
and he replied, 

"Well, I don't know what you fellows are getting at, but there 
is one thing I do know that I have seen Robert Long with you, and 
he does not look at all like his brother, Gordon." 

"Describe Robert Long to us," they both requested in a breath. 

The guest of the Lexington described Robert as he was when 
he came to the city from Cuba, as he supposed (and at the time, 
with no definite plans formed, registered as Robert Long). The 


description fitted Palmello to perfection. Their old suspicion was 
again aroused, and something of the truth flashed through their 
minds, at the same time a kind of admiration for the man who had 
fooled them so cleverly and juggled with the people like so many 

A few hours for preparation, and they were on their way to 
England in quest of Louis Palmello, alias Robert Long, the "long 
man." They said nothing of their intentions for they knew it 
would only win a laugh, for they had no positive proof the proof 
that the "long man" could, and did, in some mysterious way, make 
such a wonderful change in his appearance. They would yet have 
to obtain this proof although they were now satisfied that their old 
theory was a practical one and there could be no mistake of Pal- 
mello being the leader of the notorious "long and short" combina- 
tion. The evidence was not strong enough to warrant the arrest 
of a man who stood as well in society as he did, facing the world 
with apparently such an irreproachable character. 

Arriving in London, they cleverly disguised themselves and 
shadowed him day and night. 


They saw Dorris almost every day, driving hither and thither 
about London streets with a care-worn and grief-stricken face. 
They thought it was best not to make themselves known just yet. 
Knowing her history, a great pity sprang up in their hearts. They 
often wondered still more why they never saw Gordon. They won- 
dered still more at what they saw as they, disguised as beggars, 
lay hidden from view by a clump of bushes after following Pal- 
mello from the Savoy. They saw him re-appear, walk slowly down 
the marble steps of the mansion and strike out through the trees of 
the park in their direction. He took a seat near by on a rustic 
bench. He then lit a cigar, and settled himself in a comfortable 
position as if to enjoy a good smoke while he waited for somebody 
or something. What could it be? An hour passed. They saw him 
look at his watch, aided by the glare of a match which threw a halo 
of light around his dark features. Closing it with a snap, he arose 
to his feet. Then they saw what caused a whispered word of won- 
der to pass between them. They witnessed that which they had fol- 
lowed him day and night to see a lightning change of appearance. 
But this proved beyond their widest expectations. Palmello, peer- 
ing around in every direction, and apparently being satisfied that 
he was unobserved, removed his silk hat. Then taking a flat leather 
case from an inner pocket, he selected a small flat vial. Pouring 
some of the contents in the palm of his hand, he rubbed them to- 
gether with a quick motion, also applied it to his face. Every ves- 
tige of the dark color left it, neck, hands, and all, leaving him white 


and ghastly looking. Securing his coat, he quickly reversed it 
formerly a dark color, it was now a light tweed. This he buttoned 
up tightly. Then lifting his hat from the bench, the two detectives, 
who were watching the scene with great satisfaction mingled with 
astonishment, saw him shift the band slightly, give it a shake, and it 
seemed to fall into a shapeless mass. But with another shake and a 
push, he walked by them to the mansion with a light derby instead 
of a silk hat on his ingenious head. 

The inmates of the mansion had probably gone to rest for there 
was not a light to be seen. All was gloomy, dark and still as they 
watched him mount the steps, pass between the great statues oil 
guard and enter .by means of a key. What deviltry was he attempt- 
ing now? They waited some time, then he re-appeared and again 
they witnessed the wonderful change. Then they shadowed him to 
his quarters, well satisfied with the night's work, having the proof 
they required. 

Washing up and changing the disguise for their regular every- 
day dress as Arlex and Rometto, the detectives presented them- 
selves at the mansion. It was quite early, and sleep was still to be 
seen in old Giles' eyes as he answered the bell; but this quickly 
fled as they rested on the two detectives from America. He, as well 
as Jarl, was overjoyed to see them, and at once informed them of 
Gordon's _ mysterious disappearance, also of his mistress' awful anx- 
iety. This made the actions of last night, on Palmello's part, clear 
to them, and there was no doubt but that Palmello was at the bot- 
tom of Gordon's disappearance. Changing their plans ^somewhat, 
they left without seeing Mrs. Waite or Dorris, cautioning Jarl and 
Giles to say nothing of their presence in the city. 

"If we continue to follow Palmello, he may lead us to Gordon, 
himself, if he is alive, or to some clue at any rate." 

So disguising themselves as hawkers of handkerchiefs, they kept 
him under surveillance up to the day the mysterious clock was to 
give up its second secret. Then these clever, persistent men were 
amply rewarded. They followed him into the "boozing ken," kept 
by "Butch." This gentleman they immediately recognized. Among 
the many warrants they carried was one for him, old with age. 
They then shadowed Palmello to the vicinity of a large, gloomy 
looking building which they made out to be a prison. They saw 
him stop and borrow a light for his cigar from a hackman on the 
opposite side of the street. There was a fog hanging over the city 
(something like the day of number "49's" escape from this same 
prison, the hackman also being the same one he had handled so 
roughly four months previous, leaving him with a broken head 
while he escaped in his rig). Under protection of the fog, they 
managed to get near enough to hear Palmello say, 

"What building is that across the street?" 

"Oh, that's the jail. Be ye a stranger?" 


"Yes, I was just wandering around, looking at places of inter- 
est It's a gloomy looking structure." 

"Well hit don't look so gloomy t' me, since one o' me hold 
friends came back curse 'im. Hi ken look hup and see 'is purty 
face hin de window most any time." 

"Well, that's pleasant." 

"Pleasant? Well, Hi should say so! Hit makes life wuth 
livin. Hi ken set 'ere fur de next twelve years an watch de wrin- 
kles grow hon 'is mug. But they'll never grow so deep as the 
wrinkles 'e put hin de back o' me 'ed wid a brick. Yes, hit war dis 
way: 'E broke jail an ran over 'ere, 'e 'it me wid a brick, swapped 
'is prison suit for me clothes, dumped me hout hin de street, stole 
nr? team, an dat's de last we see of Mm for a long time, w'en hall of 
a sudden, a feller named 'Butch' turned 'im up to de Governor. An 
dere 'e is fer de next twelve years t' come." 

They saw Palmello glance across at the prison with that look 
of exultation which graced his face during the identification of Gor- 
don in the American prison. 

"Well, you. were fortunate, my friend, that your head was not 
as easy to break as the jail or you would not -have been here." 

With this he cast another quick look at the prison, continued 
on his way and was soon lost from sight in the mist. 


"Ro, Gordon is in that prison!" 

"I am of that opinion, but how he got there is a wonder." 
Re-crossing the street, they made themselves known to the jail 
officials who sent a guard to show them around. Corridor after 
corridor they traversed, looking into every face as the prisoners 
were called to the cell door. Gordon was not among them. They 
left, greatly disappointed. On their way out as they turned the cor- 
ner Arlex noticed a sheet of writing paper clinging to his heel. He 
tried to scuff it off. After making two or three unsuccessful efforts 
he raised his foot and impatiently detached it with his fingers. He 
made a motion to cast it aside, but his fingers felt the pricks and he 
examined it more closely by a street lamp. It proved to be one 
of the messages cast out by Gordon from the window above. They 
returned at once. Upon closer inquiry the usher informed them 
that there was one prisoner working overtime on the crank (as pun- 
ishment for jail breaking), whom he had forgotten. Wouldn't they 
take a look at him? Yes, they would. They were men who never 
did things by halves, and to this principle (and the message deliv- 
ered by the boot-heel) Gordon owes his liberty, for it was he they 
saw toiling at the crank the very shadow of his former self. As 
they drew near, they saw him give the crank a nervous jerk, 
straighten up and face the guard. They were still too far away to 
hear what was said. But they saw enough. They witnessed a sight 
never seen in an American prison. The guard knocked the prisoner 


down with a blow from his ponderous fist, and kicked him almost 
insensible with his heavy boots. They were now near enough to see 
and hear. 

"Get up an go t' work or Oi'll cave yer ribs hin an drown yer 
eyes out, ye yellow-faced cripple. Come on! Get a move on ye! 
Ye got 500 more t' do yet." 

With a moan he struggled to his feet and reached blindly for 
the crank. 

"Get 'old o' that crank or Oi'll cave yer 'ead hin." 

Could this be Gordon? No! Impossible! Yet the figure and 
features looked familiar. All doubt was dispelled as the victim of a 
brother's revenge once more released the crank and faced his perse- 
cutor with determination on his face and in the tone of his voice. 

"You most hellish of human creatures ! I refuse to make an- 
other turn." 

"Ye won't?" 

"No, I won't! You think to kill me by degrees! I will not 
give you that satisfaction!" 

"Ye won't! Well, wat er ye goin t' do about it?" 

This was accompanied by more curses. 

"What will I do, you say? This is what I will do: I will 
make you kill me at once or I'll kill you !" 

The only answer to this was a curse and an order to get to 
work. Persecuted beyond all endurance, Gordon sprang at the 
guard and dealt him a stinging blow between the sneaky little eyes 
and followed with another directly on the already badly disfigured 

"There, now! Go on and kill me if you have got nerve 

As he stepped back with folded arms to await death, his eyes 
fell on the disguised detectives who had drawn near. The broken- 
nosed brute was just about to return a mighty sledge-hammer blow, 
when his arm was caught as if in a vice, and Arlex ordered him to 

"Who are ye two tramps that comes sneakin an rubbin around? 
Wat are ye interferin wid me business fer?" 

"Well, we are detectives, and we want to get a good look at 
that prisoner's face before you spoil it entirely. What is the pris- 
oner's name?" 

"Aint got no name ; call 'im '49,' " the brute growled. 

Turning their backs on the vicious guard, they now addressed 
themselves to Gordon. 

"What is your name?" 

"My name is Gordon Long." 

"Oh, we thought as much !" 

Then there was an aJTecting meeting between the three men. 
Gordon almost hugged his rescuers, for such they proved to be. 
They sent for his lawyers who knew the Governor of the prison 
well. They proved that a great mistake had been made. So once 
more Gordon was a free man, and on the way to his house, accora-. 


panied by the detectives, the lawyers and the Governor of the 
prison, who wished to offer his regrets and apologize to the wife of 
the victim for his mistake, and another's heartless scheme, if it were 
proved that he was really mistaken; but he would satisfy himself 

As Gordon found himself among gentlemen and breathing the 
fresh air, a great pity swelled his heart for every human being 
between the walls of a prison, no matter what their shortcomings 
might be. 

"Well, Gordon, you seem to have more than your share of 
prison experiences," said the lawyer. 

"Yes, and it goes to show, Mr. Burns, what wonderful condi- 
tions of affairs a harmless looking clock can bring about if it is 
invented with an aim and constructed for a purpose." 

"Yes, and it was a great mistake your father, God rest his soul, 
made by inventing a clock with a secret that should have been 
trusted to his lawyers instead. Still, you look at it in one way 
(although an eccentric idea carried out by an eccentric man) it was 
not an entirely impractical one." 

"It has many redeeming points, but he had not calculated on 
one of his sons degenerating so low as to have no redeeming points. 
By the way, Mr. Burns, is not this the day it should give up its sec- 
ond secret?" 

"Yes, my dear Gordon, and you will be just in time. I was 
at the mansion when the detectives' message reached me." 

"It is peculiar, but to the clock I owe all my happiness and all 
my misery, and my poor wife, God bless her brave and true heart, 
has shared it all with me, a martyr to a fiend's horrible passion, a 
fiend who is of the same father as I, a fact that I have wished a 
thousand times was not so, in order that I ( might avenge the wrong 
he has done her, and see what the blood is like which courses 
through a heart as black as his. All I now want is a life of peace 
with my heroic little wife. It is all we ask. it is what we are cer- 
tainly entitled to, and if he breaks in on that peace again, revenge 
shall be mine, for I will drain his heart of its life blood, for it seems 
the law cannot reach him." 

"The law, mv dear Gordon, may reach him sooner than you 
expect. In fact the mighty hand of the law has him, so to speak, 
on the hooks." said Arlex. 

"Well, I hope he don't wiggle off," said the lawyer. 

"Nary a wiggle, my good friend, narry a wiggle, for he is in 
the meshes of the great drag-net of Chicago, a net that catches 
many fish and sometimes fish from foreign waters, eh, Arlex?" 
said Rometto. 

"Yes, and Mr. Long, the "Long man" will have a long, long 
time in which he can think over the past and see the error of his 

Stopping long enough for the detectives and Gordon to make 
themselves presentable, they again continued on their way and soon 
arrived at the mansion where they found the inmates all gathered 


around the great clock, with the exception of Dorris who was srt- 
ting near by in a large rocker, pale and listless. It was in Gordon's 
own rooms. She had declined to leave them, so the servants had 
brought the clock above. It only required half a glance to see the 
unshed tears in her sweet brown eyes and the trace of those already 
shed. With a glad cry she threw herself into Gordon's arms, and 
sobbed between her anxious and rapid questions. The others also 
gathered around to welcome him back, his good friend, Palmello, 
the foremost of all. But he could hardly suppress a start as his 
eyes fell upon the detectives and the Governor of the prison where 
he was known as number "49." He shook hands with the detec- 
tives and was introduced to the Governor. 

Again re-united and happy, they chatted as only happy ones 
can. The clock was just about to strike. Seeing this, the "man in 
black" raised his voice and commanded attention. The smiles had 
driven away all traces of tears from the now rosy face of Dorris, 
and she was as eager as the rest to witness this second and last act 
of the clock, which had already inspired her with such awe. 


As the beautiful chimes began to toll off the hour, they gath- 
ered around and waited with breathless interest. It was 9 o'clock. 
At the last stroke the puppets appeared in answer to the bell of the 
cathedral. The miniature figures halted directly before the gold dial 
and the same slow, affecting music could be heard as in Ivy cottage 
at Sunnyside. The little panel slid back and the puppet that had 
disappeared then, now glided out on the platform. The hour hand 
swung around and back^again with great force, causing a gong to 
ring and vibrate in the air for some time. In accordance with pre- 
vious order of things it seemed to act as a signal, for the little fig- 
ure on the platform opened in half, causing a piece of parchment 
to fall to the table below. The "man in black" immediately pos- 
sessed himself of this, while the others looked at him with ill-con- 
cealed curiosity. Mrs. Waite was the most anxious of all, and 
seemed greatly agitated. 

As if it had discharged its duty, the little figure closed and dis- 
appeared through the opening, followed immediately by the closing 1 
of the panel. The gong was _ again heard and the puppet shot up 
in its old place beside the miniature figure of the bride, then accom- 
panied by sweet music, continued the journey that was so strangely 
interrupted three months before. As the last strains of soft music 
died away on the air, a long breath was drawn, and they all turned 
their questioning eyes upon the "man in black," who cleared his 
throat, adjusted his glasses, and closely examined the piece of parch- 
ment in his hand. It was addressed to Robert. He glanced around 
as if really expecting to see his face among the eager ones in his 
line of vision. 


"This, I see, is directed to Robert Long. I see that he is not 
present. Gordon, as his brother, what do you wish me to do?" 

"Open and read it. His conduct, as all present are aware, has 
not been such that we should stand on ceremony regarding any 
matter whatever concerning him." 

The "man in black" hesitated a moment, cleared his throat, 
re-adjusted his glasses and proceeded to read the following the 
tick-tock of the clock alone mingled with his voice and was all that 
disturbed the silence. Mrs. Waite, white and trembling, leaned 
on Dorris for support. Palmello, the clever actor, showed only the 
concern a good friend of the family should under the circumstances. 

"My Dear Son Robert : The means I take to put you in posses- 
sion of your inheritance possibly seem strange, and somewhat incon- 
sistent, but I believe it is for your good. Youth is generally a reck- 
less stage of life. For this reason I have, after two years of labor, 
constructed a clock which will point out the legitimate son and heir 
to the estates (which are entailed as you are aware) at a period in 
your life when you will be a man and more prepared and more com- 
petent to repress any reckless inclinations which would arise from 
being made acquainted with your misfortune the misfortune of 
being the illegitimate son of a man who is slowly dying from remorse 
over a sin committed in the recklessness of his youth. To guard 
against the possibility of your squandering the fortune I leave you 
from a spirit of recklessness, as is possible were you in possession 
of it at the time the clock divulges the secret of your great misfor- 
tune, I have delayed even the knowledge of it until you have, in a 
degree, become accustomed to your new and not enviable position in 
life. For this reason, alone, have I constructed the clock in such a 
manner that it will not put you in possession of your inheritance for 
three months after it has divulged the facts of your misfortune. 
Your inheritance is in the form of cash, and lies in the Bank of 
England. My lawyers are to reverse the figure 2 on the clock and 
insert a key they possess in the fourth keyhole. This will disclose 
a recess in which you will find your inheritance, a check for 100,- 

The detectives, who had been watching Palmello, saw him start 
and something like regret and wonder overspread his face. 

"An amount equal to the value of the estates. I love you both 
and wish you to share alike my possessions. As to your mother- 
after careful consideration, I believe it best that you should never 
know her. The only thing I can say regarding the matter is, she is 
a lady of good birth and is respected by all who know her. She is 
leading a peaceful life with her daughter, a child as good of heart 
and as pure of mind and thought as my two noble boys. A lady 
that has committed no sin, for she was the victim of my ingenuity 
and a momentary mad passion. Having committed one sin against 
her, I do not wish to add another by putting any person in posses- 
sion of facts which might bring discredit and sorrow on her and 
humiliation to her beautiful daughter (as I was humiliated before 
my sons by the confession of your old nurse). Her daughter is 3 


child of wedlock, a child her life is wrapped up in, a child she has 
brought up in ignorance of sin. For their sakes I withhold a knowl- 
edge you would undoubtedly desire to possess. 

"COMMIT NO SIN, the price of sin is DISASTER AND 
PREMATURE DEATH. All I request is that you try and think 
as kindly of me as possible and forgive me if you can. Having 
almost finished a life of remorse, I sign as your sinful but loving 
father, after which I lay down my pen for the last time on earth. 

"Orton D. Long." 


Mrs. Waite drew a sigh of relief. The dark clouds seemed to 
roll away from her vision. They now pressed around the reader 
who reversed the figure 2, as requested in the letter, and inserted a 
key. The recess mentioned was found to contain a check on the 
Bank of England for 100,000. Turning with this in his hand, he 
smoothed it out between his fingers and again glanced at Gordon 
for instructions. Gordon answered the look by saying, 

"Well, I hardly know what to advise regarding that, Mr. Burns, 
but I suppose you had better take charge of it until he can be 

"But how are we to find him?" the lawyer inquired; "if these 
two gentlemen, members of the greatest police system in the world, 
have, after long and diligent search, failed to locate him? How are 
we to have success where they have experienced defeat?" 

"Well, we will offer 2,000 reward and put the case in their 
hands to do the best they can. Don't you think this would be a 
good idea, Mr. Palmello?" 

"Why, yes, I do, indeed gentlemen ; it would be a splendid idea, 
but of course, as they say, they have failed as yet to locate him. 
In consequence, of course " 

"We beg your pardon, Mr. Palmello, we did not say that we 
had failed to locate him." 

"Oh, then you have located him, I should infer?" 

"Yes. We have already located him, and know where to put 
our hands on him at any moment. For that reason we do not wish 
to take advantage or Mr. Long's generous offer, for it would be 
accepting money that we should not earn." 

"Well, friends, I appreciate the principle that prompts your 
response to Mr. Palmello, but if you know where he is to be found, 
take him this check and this message, also, from me a message to 
the effect that he must, in the future, leave us in peace or the retri- 
bution he so justly deserves will overtake him." 

" 'Retribution,' " the American detective answered, "has already 
overtaken him, Mr Long, for he is in the meshes of the great 'Chi- 
cago drag-net,' which spreads its ample folds over many countries, 
and I am sure he is thought so much of there that he will hardly 
be granted him a leave of absence long enough to ever pay you a 
visit for good or evil." 


"Well, thank God for that, and you, also, my good friends. 
'Friends,' I say, for indeed you have been all that the word implies 
and my wife and I wish to thank you both for the great services 
you have rendered us." 

"Don't mention it. It is in our line of duty to right wrong, 
and, as much as possible, protect those who are honest of purpose 
from those who are not." 

"Well, I insist upon mentioning it, and another thing you must 
allow me to mention is, that I owe my life to you." 

"Yes, not only his life, but our future happiness," interrupted 
Dorris ; "for I am satisfied if he were at liberty he would murder us 
or spoil our peace of mind with attempts worse than murder." 

"Yes, friends, my wife and I would sooner meet death than suf- 
fer a repetition of the past." 

The voices and appearance of these earnest faces carried truth 
and conviction to their listeners. 

"Well, Mr. Long, you and yours can rest in peace for the rest 
of your days, for the rest of his days will be spent in an American 
prison, doing penance for a list of crimes as bold as they have been 
strange and out of the ordinary. I am not much of a hand to mor- 
alize, but I might say if a man, such as he, had tested his ability in 
the right direction, he would, undoubtedly, have been one of the 
brightest lights that shine on the great world. Yes, I might say that 
half of the ability he has shown, if exerted in the right direction, 
would lead him to the head of the people, a power in the land, be 
it either on American or English soil." 

At this point Gordon excused himself from the room for a 
moment and the lawyer made reply. 

"Yes, what you say has a good deal of truth in it, for as a 
boy he was the brightest of all for miles around old London. I 
often predicted that he would become either one of the greatest 
men of our period or one of the greatest scoundrels." 

"From what I understand he has proved your theory a correct 
one," said Palmello, with a peculiar smile. 

"Indeed he has," the lawyer asserted ; "for he has degenerated 
from a youth that was perfection to one of the greatest scoundrels 
unhung a man that has also made a reputation to that effect in 
every country during the carnival of crime in the American city." 

"He is what you would call a 'moral degenerate,' then," said 
Gordon, who had again rejoined the group with a narrow slip of 
paper between his two fingers. 

"Yes, Gordon, and the best illustration of one I ever saw, read, 
or heard of, for he, in a few short years, has degenerated from the 
best of all, down, down, down to the very worst that could be 

"In fact, Mr. Burns, to worse than could be imagined of a hu- 
man being," said Gorodn : "for even you, you, my good friend, do 
not know all, neither could you ever imagine the extent to which he 






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has lowered himself in crime and at the same time ekedl out a hor- 
rible vengeance on me. He made some horrible threats and carried 
out all of them to my great surprise and discomfort. But let it 
pass. Here, Mr. Arlex and Mr. Rometto, is a small acknowledge- 
ment of my appreciation of your diligence and persistency. Now I 
will warn you to start with, that we will not listen to any objections 
you may make." 

With a kindly smile he handed them a check for 10,000. 

"Here, also, is the check on the Bank of England for 100,000. 
You will be conferring a great favor on us if you will kindly see 
that it reaches the one that it is meant for ; and I pray God that he 
will see the error of his ways, and with this very comfortable 
fortune lift himself from out the old rut so strewn with corrup- 

There was a cold sneer on the face of Palmello, and the cruel 
lines of his mouth twitched. 

"We will do as you wish, Mr. Long, but I am afraid he is past 
redemption." And there was a twinkle in the detectives' eyes as 
they continued : "Anyway, he will have ample time for reflection. 
Probably he may become convinced of the truth of his father's very 
true words" the detective's face became serious now "that the 
price of sin is disaster and death, for it certainly is, as we have seen 
thousands meet both while following our calling as detectives. He 
also may become convinced of this and make peace with his God." 

Palmello, who had listened to this conversation with the half 
sneer still on his face, noticed the detective, while speaking, had 
slipped the small check in his pocket. The other for 100,000 he 
still held in his hand. Palmello in an insinuating and slightly moved 
tone said: 

"Mr. Rometto, do you feel safe in carrying a demand for so 
large a sum such a great distance across the sea?" 

"Mr. Long seems to feel that the confidence he has placed in 
us will not be misplaced. Still, if you are uneasy about it reaching 
its owner, as I infer you are from the tone you adopt, we will dis- 
charge our duty at once by placing it in the hands of the one it is 
intended for." 

"He is here in London, then, I should judge from your words?" 
Palmello inquired in as careless a tone as he could assume. 

"Yes. he is in London. We decided to wait until a more fitting 
time to deliver it ; but as you seem so greatly concerned for its safety, 
we will deliver it at once." 

"At once?" Palmello asked, in a surprised way, looking around 
the room at the different faces as did the others. 

"Yes, at once, my friend ; but I'm afraid he will refuse it." 

"He will refuse it?" 

"We think so." 

"Oh, he could not refuse it ! That would be impossible, impos- 
sible, to refuse so large a sum of ready money." 

The detectives had edged somewhat nearer during this peculiar 




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conversation, and Rometto presented the check for 100,000 to Pal- 
mello, saying, 

"We will see if he will refuse it. Mr. Robert Long, I have the 
great honor of delivering into your own hand the fortune which you 
inherited just now in such a peculiar manner. Oh, as I thought, 
you will not accept ! You are the first one I ever heard of who had 
to be forced to accept money, especially a sum of this denomination. 
It is plain to see that you were not raised in Chicago." 

"What do you mean, sir? Are you crazy?" 

"No, but my friend, Arlex, is. See, he is about to decorate your 
wrist with a pair of 'come-alongs.' " 

Arlex had already done this with such a quick and deft motion 
that Palmello and, the others were hardly aware he was performing 
anything out of the ordinary. 

"You scoundrels ! What do you mean by this ungentlemanly 
conduct? Mr. Long, will you allow your friends to insult me while 
a guest under your own roof?" 

Gordon, thinking it was a jest, replied, 

"Oh, they are just joking, I guess, Mr. Palmello. It is a joke, 
is it not my friends?" turning to the detectives. 

"Yes, but it is rather a serious joke on him, I take it, for he 
will have to wear these little decorations I hold in my hand until 
we land him in an American prison." Rometto, as he spoke, jingled 
a pair of hand-cuffs." 

"But you certainly can't mean what you say? There must be 
some mistake. I am sure that my friend, Palmello, can explain mat- 
ters to your satisfaction." 

"Well, we are sorry, but we owe a duty to our country and our 
friends. We hope you will excuse this scene, but the gentleman 
forced it himself. We had intended to defer his arrest until a more 
appropriate time." 

"But what is he charged with?" 

"He is charged with crimes too numerous to mention." 

They all eyed the detectives with incredulous smiles. 

"What crimes is he guilty of? Name some of them." 

They still thought it was a joke and were now prepared to 
help carry it out. 

"Well, it would take many closely written pages to portray in 
detail each and every crime committed during the great carnival of 
crime in Chicago; but among them is allowing innocent men to lie 
in jail, charged with crimes that he is responsible for." 

"But ladies and gentlemen, I see by your smiling faces you are 
under the mistaken impression that we are trying to furnish you 
with a little amusement. Such is not the case. We were never more 
earnest in our lives ; neither have we ever been able to perform 
a greater service for the people of America." 



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Palmello, with an impatient motion, now endeavored to free 
his hands and said: 

"Mr. Long, if you allow your guest to be made a target for 
cruel jokes, I will in the future discontinue my visits." 

"Well, we will see that you discontinue your visits here, as 
well as elsewhere in London, for you are going with us to make one 
long, long visit, Mr. Long, alias Palmello." 

Gordon now thought the joke had been carried far enough and 

"My good friends, we appreciate a joke as well as any, but I am 
afraid you are carrying this one a little too far. I will have to 
request you to release Mr. Palmello." 

"Mr. Long, can you not open your eyes to the truth?" 

"I hardly understand you, Mr. Rometto." 

"It is simple enough. You requested me to deliver a check for 
100,000 to Robert Long." 


"Well, we had decided to call at his hotel later and present it 
to him there; but contrary to our expectations, he forced matters 
a little by casting an insinuation to the effect that we were not 
competent, or responsible, so to dispel any such illusions, we offered 
it to him at once ; but, as we predicted, he refused to accept." 

"Yes, I see. But you misunderstand me. The check is for Mr. 
Robert Long." 

"Well, there is Mr. Robert Long, cleverly disguised, and using 
the name of Palmello." 

Palmello, on hearing this, made a lightning like motion with 
his free hand towards a pistol. It was gone. 

"Ah, you can throw your hand back there pretty lively, can't 
you? It comes handy after all the practice you had in Chicago as 
the 'long man,' but you will find no pistol. We took care of those 
while your attention was taken up with the strange clock." 

"Curses on you! What do you mean?" 

"We mean, Mr. Long, alias our good friend, Palmello, that yon 
are our prisoner, and we sail for America to-morrow. We are going 
to take you with us. We will give the cup of misery you have filled 
for so many God-fearing people a chance to settle." 

Without more ado, they slipped the ominous looking hand- 
cuffs on him and read their warrant. All saw that the two Ameri- 
can detectives ^meant business, but supposed still that it was some 
mistake and tried to convince them of it. 

Palmello now regained his composure. He neither affirmed the 
charge nor denied it 

"Under the circumstances it is certainly hard to believe that 
this man standing before you is the notorious 'long man' of Chicago 
newspaper fame, but such is the case." 

"You can't prove it!" hissed Palmello, still feeling secure in 
his clever disguise. 


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"Oh, we will prove it all right when the time comes, and" 

What he would have said was cut short and almost drowned 
by a peculiar rumbling noise, then a thud, followed by a cloud of 
cinders which drifted through the screen covering the old English 
fireplace. It seems that Jarl, noticing that the gentlemen had pressed 
forward, crowding against the slight table which held the clock 
and thinking there was a risk of its being overturned in the event 
of a struggle, which seemed evident if matters were not soon 
explained, had lifted it to the mantle, and as it settled into place 
with a jar, it had dislodged the bundle secreted up the chimney by 
number "49" directly after his escape from the London prison. 

All turned and gazed in silent wonder. What could it be? 
Recovering somewhat from their surprise, they requested Jarl to 
remove the screen and investigate, which he did. ^ Upon first sight, 
they thought it was a man, but on closer inspection they saw that 
it was merely a large bundle tied up in a water-proof rain coat. 
Jarl lifted this daintily out on the marble-blocked hearth, careful 
not to soil the rich carpet. Gordon ordered it opened. This Jarl 
proceeded to do, while the others gathered around and watched with 
interest, the detectives keeping one eye on the prisoner meanwhile. 
As the articles were exposed to view ,the Governor of the prison 
started and emitted an exclamation which transferred everyone's 
attention to him, who, they noted, was in turn gazing at Gordon 
in a kind of suspicious and wondering way. 

Gordon now broke the silence. 

"I can't imagine to whom these things belong or how they came 
to be in such an out-of-the-way place. I believe you seem to recs 
ognize them, Governor; but, of course, that is impossible, for on 
second thought you " 

"Not so impossible as you may think, my young friend, and I 
believe you also recognize them." 

"I I I'm sure I never saw them before and " 

"We will call in the hackman," interrupted the Governor, "and 
see what he has to say. I recognize that watchchain as belonging 
to him, at any rate, for I gave it to him for quick driving one 

Upon the hackman's being shown into the room, he nodded 
awkwardly to Palmello, whom he recognized as the gentleman who 
had spoken to him during the evening, but, of coruse, did not 
recognize him as the convict who had escaped by means of his_ rig 
months previous. Instead, he was now positive they had the right 
man in Gordon. The Governor and he both were ready to swear to 
it a moment later when the hackman identified the articles as those 
stolen from him by the convict, number "49." 

The Governor congratulated himself for he was now assured 
he had made another mistake, and Gordon was, in reality, the 
escaped convict in question. As the cold steel of the hand-cuffs 
fell into place around the hands of the other brother, a fiendish 
smile played around the lips of Palmello, alias the real number 
"49," and a piercing shirek rent the air as the Governor made a 




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move to retire with his prisoner, in spite of the latter's expostula- 
tions. Dorris rushed forward and threw her arms around his neck 
and clung there while she begged the Governor to release him 
he was innocent not to take him from her again, etc. But it was 
in vain. She pleaded until the two American detectives interfered 

"Sir, you are mistaken, as we can prove, for there stands the 
man you want." They pointed to Palmello who smiled tantalizingly 
and sneered at the assertion. Even the Governor laughed incred- 
ulously. But this was all changed in a moment, for the detectives 
(although anxious to land their prisoner in America) would not 
allow Gordon to suffer the consequence of another mistake. So 
contrary to their intentions, they were forced to reveal the secret 
of how the wonderful change was brought about by the ingenious 
prisoner, Palmello. The Governor again started to withdraw with 
his prisoner when Rometto, in a commanding voice cried, 

"Hold, the gentleman is the victim of a great mistake, caused 
by a likeness to his half brother, and is innocent." 

The Governor halted and replied, 

"Prove it." 

"Yes, we will prove it" 



After a whispered word with the Governor, they proceeded to 
search the smiling Palmello and brought to light the leather case. 
Opening this, they selected the vials they saw him use, while the 
others looked on in astonished silence as they applied a portion of 
the contents to his manacled hands. The dark color disappeared 
at once. This was a moment of surprise to all. Palmello stood as 
silent and motionless as a statue. They now applied some of the 
liquid to his face. This also cleared, leaving it pale and ghastly, 
the same face they had seen in the moonlight on that eventful night 

Offering him the check, he now accepted it. 

All was confusion. Mrs. Waite, the moment she caught sight 
of the ghastly face, cried out, 

"Great God ! My punishment has come ! My son !" and fell 
forward in a swoon. 

The Governor^ of the prison also recognized him as number 
"49," and laying his hand on the shoulder of Robert, greatly pro- 
voked the American detectives by claiming him as a prisoner of the 
Queen. Gordon and Dorris failed to note the words of Mrs. Waite, 
but the detectives and Robert h^d. Paying no heed to the remarks 
of the Governor, he turned to Rometto. 

"What did Mrs, Waite say?" 


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"She said, if I heard correctly, that you were her son." Rometto 
replied in a low tone. 

H'is head dropped on his breast and there was a horrible look- 
in his gleaming eyes. 

"And and Dorris then would be my sister half sister?" 

"It seems so." 

"This is a great punishment indeed, hut a double punishment 
fits this crime and the many cold-blooded murders and robberies 
of merchants in Chicago, during the carnival of crime. And I think 
that broken-nosed guard will make it quite pleasant for you while 
you are trying to buy your way out of a London prison into an 
American one," said Rometto. 

Leaving Dorris and Gordon working over Mrs. Waite who was 
fast reviving, the three officials left with their prisoner for Hollo- 
way jail to decide who should claim him. This was soon settled 
and number "49," alias the notorious "long man" was once more 
back in his old cell at the mercy of his bitter thoughts and the 
guard's brutality. But the pluckv detective did not return empty- 
handed. "Butch," the keeper of the "boozing ken." accompanied 
them in irons, below deck, while Rometto and Arlex enjoyed their 
reflections and a cigar above. They modestly decided not to brag 
of their exploits upon reaching their home, termed by Londoners 
and others the "Wicked City." 

They found the Wicked Citv still wicked but felt they, well as 
their brother officers ("who meantime had cleverlv Bounded up the bal- 
ance of the notorious bandits) had done something toward redeem- 
ing it. It is believed that the pruning knife of the press, assisted bv 
peace-loving citizens and the wide awake reporters and_ police, -will 
in time trim this beautiful city of its corruption entirely in both high 
and low walks of life. 







Note the lingering shade of sorrow in the sweet eyes above the 
sunny smile. 










Was Hanging on the Ragged Edge 
of Failure. 

Sent for the " NEW IDE A MEN " 




The reader who discovers the "hidden word" that discloses "Mrs. 
Waite's secret," will receive as 4th prize a double-seated "toe 
pacd" carriage. On exhibition at 2 Aldine Square. 

The reader who discovers the "hidden sentence" that reveals 
the true identity of the "Long Man," will receive as 5th prize a 
trip to Cuba.' R. 460 Monon Bldg. 

The reader who discovers the "hidden word" which reveals the 
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Discover author in snapshots of crowds. Receive gold watch 

SEE PAGES 4-37-113. 



Keep your mind open to new ideas. As you read the history 
of men and of science, study the reception that the world has given 
to its greatest benefactors, The Men of Original Thought. Almost 
invariably, the new idea has been received with universal ridicule. 
K * * * NO man can estimate how much the world has lost by 
the innate tendency in human nature to reject everything that Is 

Not only does human nature reject the truth when first pre- 
sented it rejects it with scorn. * * * * 

When Galileo discovered that the earth went around the sun, 
they made him get down on his knees and publicly retract the glor- 
ious truth that he brought to mankind. When Fulton tried to talk 
to Napoleon about the steamboat which he invented, Napoleon's 
mind was full of a plan to cross the channel to conquer England. 
His boats were at the mercy of the winds. He never did cross the 
channel, and England eventually conquered him. Fulton was the 
very man that could have solved Napoleon's problem for him. But 
to Fulton Napoleon said that he could give him just five minutes 
at the end of the five minutes even Napoleon's extraordinary mind 
rejected the new truth. Had he given Fulton the necessary time 
and the necessary encouragement he might have ruled England and 
throughout all of Europe and to-day a son of his son, the little 
King of Rome, might be the dictator of the world. 


We can each of us improve in usefulness by training our minds 
at least to avoid prejudice and to give a fair hearing to a new idea, 
however foreign it may be to our own method of thought. Inci- 
dently it may be mentioned that besides doing good to others and 
encouraging originality many a man has found his own welfare and 
prosperity in an open-minded temperament. 

Opposition to new thought has been almost insane in its obsti- 
nacy. Next to adding to the world knowledge with a new inven- 
tion or a new and clear statement of truth, the greatest thing that 
any man can do is to encourage another who really has a message 
that the world ought to hear. 

By keeping the mind open, ready to welcome the truth in re- 
gard to inventions, a man may enrich himself, besides helping an- 
other to success. More important even that open-mindedness to- 
ward material ideas is a display of interest and freedom from prej- 
udice toward new Abstract Thought. 

From the very beginning of history the struggle has gone on. 
Caesar conquered truth and ruled. Men of the same class went to 
Gracchi and other brave men suffered for the truth in Rome before 
the guillotine in France, or were shot down by tens of thousands 
in the armies of liberty before Napoleon became emperor and ruled 
there. Over and over the same truths re-discovered, the same 
ground gone over. Fortunately each century, or group of centu- 
ries shows improvement. Battles are not fought in vain. After 
each great effort men fall back, but they do not fall back all the 
way; something is gained each time. The picture and the editorial 
on this page are prepared in the hope that they may incline the 
minds of the readers and especially of young men, to mistrust their 
own final judgment and to give to new ideas at least a respectful 
hearing. We offer to these readers, as a guide in life this advice, 
nineteen centuries old : "Prove all things, hold fast that which is 
good." Chicago American. 

The heavy advance sale of this "New Idea" book shows a 
wonderful willingness to investigate something new. Time is a 
great factor. 



Cheer up, old man, be happy, don't look so awful glum, 
Remember the good times you've had there's better ones to come. 
Don't think because the clouds are black it will forever rain, 
Hope on a little longer and you'll see the sun again. 

Most business men have ups and downs, some worry and some dare, 
And sickness often is to them the heaviest load to bear. 
Why fret about fair-weather friends ? The old ones still are true ; 
The road's been long and lonesome, but I think you're almost 

This life is all a mixture of happiness and pain, 
And joy will follow sorrow as sunshine follows rain. 
A spell of sickness makes a man appreciate good health ; 
Reverses also teach us how to better value wealth. 

Then let us hear your voice again and see your old-time smile ; 
Just pull yourself together go in and make a pile. 
Come, face the music like a man, and throw the blues away; 
You'll live to give advice yourself and laugh at this some day. 

-L. D. MOON. 
Ch. & D. Mag. 


To the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States. 

We, the undersigned, do respectfully request that the Stevens' 
Double Track Bill requiring every Railroad Company in the United 
States to operate at least double tracks throughout their entire 
systems be put in force. 

The sacrifice of life due to single track economy is unnecessary 
and criminal. During the last year, (according to the official report 
of the Interstate Commerce Commission at Washington,) 3,798 per- 
sons were killed, and 55,466 injured in the United States on rail- 
road lines. This is appalling and cannot be ignored when it is 
simply a question of money saved by single track economy, or life 
saved by double track expense. 

We, the undersigned, respectfully petition the United States 
Congress that a law be passed to provide the second track that 
will lessen the wholesale slaughter of humanity. 


Can you imagine what the yearly slaughter is? Mainly due to 
single track economy which means thousands of dollars saved to 


a few Railroad magnates at the cost of thousands of lives to the 
traveling public, possibly your own included, or at least some deal 

Now double tracks will do away with this great evil of single 
track economy. Your name, a moment's time, and a stamp will 
add the extra track, and the danger of travel will be practically 

A monster petition to Congress, signed by almost the entire 
people of the United States, will force the Stevens' Bill through 
in a hurry. The Bill is being framed and thousands of double 
track advocates are sending in their names to be affixed to this 
petition, which will require an entire car to transport it to Wash- 
ington. It will consist of one great wide continuous sheet of 
prepared paper wound on two immense rollers. The getting up 
of this great petition, etc., necessittates quite an expense, but to 
you and your friends it will cost nothing. 

It will be a good plan for every merchant in every village and 
city of the United States to form a double track advocate club 
with headquarters at their store. This suggestion will be advertised 
in all the leading trade journals of the United States. The business 
men and the ministers are in a better position to head the enter- 
prise in their village or respective district of the cities. 

By proper organization with Stevens' plan, we will girdle our 
great country with double tracks and safety. Years ago the danger 
was not so great as it is today. Ther is an increase in traffic. 
Millions of dollars are being spent yearly by the public for the 
privilege of riding to possibly injury or death on the same old 
single track. 

Something must be done, you can do it by sending in your 
name singly or by organization of clubs, as suggested, the petitions 
to be affixed to the original at the Chicago headquarters of the 
Double Track Advocate Association, 

No. 2 Aldine Square, 

Chicago, Illinois. 


Los Angeles 
This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 


OCT 09 fl^ 

L9-Series 4939 

3 1158 00590 2407