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^-.fV.—»^.-i^. Xi-'-i: .\*A: 7 THE WATKRTQWN BE-UNION. 1 By FRANCIS LYNDE Illustrations by C. D. RHODES (Gopyrigni by Clidrj&> ScriDner's Sons) J I CHAPTER I. At Chaudiere's. It was at Chaudiere's that Griswold had eaten his first breakfast in the (Crescent city, and it was at Chau- diere's again that he was sharing a farewell supper with Bainbridge of the Iioulsianian. Six weeks lay between that and this; forty-odd days of dis- couragement and failure superadded upon other Similar days and weeks and months. Without meaning to, Bainbridge had been strewing the path with fresh thorns for the defeated one. He had just been billeted to write up the ba- nana trade for his paper. Boyishly ju- bilant over the assignment, he had dragged the New Yorker around to Chaudiere's to a small parting feast. Not that It had required much per- suasion. Griswold had fasted for 24 hours, and if Bainbridge were not a friend in a purist's definition of the term, he was at least a friendly ac- quaintance. Tie burden of the table talk fell upon Bainbridge, and it occurred to the host that his guest was less than usually responsive, a fault not to be lightly condoned under the joyous cir- cumstances. Wherefore he protested. \What's the matter- with you to- night, Kenneth, old man? You're more than commonly grumpy, it seems to me; and that's needless.\ Griswold looked up with a smile that was almost ill-natured, and quot- ed cynically: \ 'Unto everyone that hath shall be given, and he shall have abundance; but from him that hath not, shall be taken away even that which he hath.'\ Bainbridge's laugh was tolerant enough to take the edge from his re- tort. \That's a pretty thing to fling at a man who never knifed you or pistoled you or tried to poison you! An inno- cent bystander might say you envied me.\ \I do,\ rejoined Griswold gravely. \I envy any man who can earn enough money to pay for three mealB a day and a place to sleep in.\ \Oh cat's foot!—anybody can do 'that,\ asserted Bainbridge, with the air of one to whom the struggle for Existence has been a mere athlete's (practice run. \I know; that is your theory. But ithe facts disprove it. I can't, for one.\ Griswold was a fair man, with red- idish hair and beard and the quick and sensitive Bkin of the type. A red flush of anger crept up under the closely •cropped beard, and his eyes were bright. Bpmbridge scoffed openly; but he was good-natured enough to make ameads when he saw that Griswold wa* moved. \i ake it all back,\ he said. \I sup- pose the book-chicken has come home again to roost, and a returned manu- scri) t accounts for anything. But, serioasly, Kenneth, you ought to get down to bed-rock facts'. Nobody but a ciuzy phenomenon can find a pub- lish* r for his first book, nowadays, unle ,s he has had some sort of an (Intn duction in the magazines or the newrpapers. You haven't had that; so fir as I know, you haven't tried it\ \Oh yes, I have—tried and failed. It isn't in me to do the salable thing, and there isn't a magazine editor in the country who doesn't know it by this time. I tell you, Bainbridge, the (conditions are all wrong when a man with a vital message to his kind can't iget to deliver it to the people who (want to hear it.\ Bainbridge ordered the small cof- fees and found his cigar caBe. \That is about what 1 suspected,\ he commented Impatiently. \You couldn't keep your peculiar views muzzled even when you were writing a bit of a pot boiler on sugar plant- ing. You drop your fool socialistic fad and write a book that a reputable publisher can bring out without com- mitting commercial suicide, and you'll istand some show.\ \Call it what you please; names •don't change facts. Listen\—Griswold •leaned upon the table; his eyes grew hard and the blue in them became me- tallic—\For more than a month I have tramped the streets of this cursed city begging—yes, that is the word—begging for work of any kind that would suffice to keep body and (soul together, and for more than half of that time I have lived on one meal » day. That is what we have come to; we of the submerged majority. And that isn't all. The wage worker himself, when he is fortunate enough to find a chance to earn his crust, is •but a serf; a chattel among the other jpossessions of some fellow man who has acquired him in the plutocratic .redistribution of the earth and the (fullness thereof.\ Bainbridge glanced at his watch. \I must be going,\ he said. \The Adelautado drops down the river at .eleven. How are you fixed for the present, and what are you going to do lor the future?\ Griswold's smile was not pleasant (to look at. . \I am 'fixed' to tun twenty-four hours longer, thanks to your hospital- ity. For that length of time I pre- sume I shall continue to conform to what we have been taught to believe is the immutable order of things. After that—\ He paused, and Bainbridge put the question. \Well after that; what then?\ \Then if the chance to earn is still denied me, and I am sufficiently hun- gry, I shall stretch fnrth my hand and take what I need.\ Bainbridge fished in his pocket and took out a ten-dollar banknote. \Do that first,\ he said, offering Griswold the money. The proletary smiled and shook his head. • • • • * » • The fruit steamer Adelantado, out- ward bound, was shuddering to the first slow revolutions of her propeller when Bainbridge turned the key in the door of the stuffy little stateroom to which he had been directed, and went on deck. \Why hello, Broffin! How are you, old man? Where the dickens did you drop from?\ It was the inevitable steamer ac- quaintance who is always at hand to prove the trite narrowness of the \You Couldn't Keep Your Peculiar Views Muzzled.\ world, and Bainbridge kicked a chair into comradely place for him. Broffin, heavy browed and clean shaven save for a thick mustache that hid the hard-bitted mouth, replaced the chair to suit himself and sat down. In appearance he was a cross between a steamboat captain on a vacation and an up-river plantation overseer recov- ering from his annual pleasure trip to the city. But his reply to Bain- bridge's query proved that he was nei- ther. \I didn't drop; I walked. More than that, I kept step with you all the way from Chaudiere's to the levee. You'd be dead easy game for an amateur.\ \You'll get yourself disliked, the first thing you know,\ said Bainbridge, laughing. \Can't you ever forget that you are in the man-hunting Business? Where are you headed for, Broffin?\ The man who might have passed for a Bteamboat captain or a plantation overseer, and was neither, chuckled dryly. \You don't expect mo to give it away to you, and you a newspaper man, do you? But I will—seeing you can't get it on the wires. I'm going down to Guatemala after Mortsen.\ \The Crescent bank defaulter? By Jove! you've found him at last, have you?\ The detective nodded. \I've been two years, off and on, trying to locate Mortsen; and now that I've found him, ha is where he can't be extradited. All the same, I'll bet you five to one he goes back with me in the next steamer—what?\ CHAPTER II. The Right of Might. Two days after the Bupper at Chau- diere's the unimpetuous routine of the business quarter of New Orleans was rudely disturbed by the shook of a genuine sensation. To shatter at a single blow the most venerable of the routine precedents, the sensational thing chose for its col- liding point with orderly system one of the oldest and most conservative of the city's banks—the Bayou State Security. At ten o'clock, following the precise habit of half a lifetime, Mr. Andrew Galbraith, president of the Bayou State, entered his private room in the fear of the main banking apartment, opened his desk, and ad- dressed himself to the business of the day. At half-past the hour the presi- dent was left alone to read his cor- respondence. Being a man whose mental proc- esses were all serious, and whose hobby was method, Mr. Galbraith had established a custom of giving himself a quiet half-hour of inviolable Beclu- sion in which to read and consider his mail. During this sacred interval the stenographer, standing guard in the outer office, had instructions to deny his chief to callers of any and every degree. Wherefore, when, at 20 minutes to 11, the door of the pri- vate office opened to admit a stranger, the president was justly annoyed. \Well sir; what now?\ he demand- ed, impatiently, taking the intruder's measure in a swift glance shot from beneath his bushy white eyebrows. The unannounced visitor was a young man of rather prepossessing ap- pearance, a trifle tall for his breadth of shoulder, fair, with blue eyes and a curling, reddish beard and mustache, the former trimmed to a point. So much the president was able to note in the appraisive glance—and to re- member afterward. The caller made no reply to the curt question. He had turned and was closing the door. There was a quiet insistence in the act that was like the flick of a whip to,Mr. Galbraith's irri- tation. \If you have business with me, you'll have to excuse me for a few minutes,\ he protested,, still more im- patiently. \Be good enough to take a seat in the anteroom until I ring. MacFarland should have told you.\ Thu young man drew up a chair and sat down, ignoring the request as If he had failed to hear it Ordinarily Mr. Andrew Galbraith's temper was equable enough; the age-cooled tem- per of a methodical gentleman whose long upper lip was in itself an adver- tisement of self-control. But such a deliberate infraction of his rules, coupled with the stony impudence of the visitor, made him spring up an- grily to ring for the watchman. The intruder was too quick for him. When his hand sought the bell push he found himself looking into the muzzle of a revolver, and so was fain to fall back Into his chair, gasping. \Ah-h-h!\ he stammered. And when the words could be managed: \So that's it, is it?—you're a robber!\ \No said the invader of the presi- dential privacy calmly, speaking for the first time since his incoming. \I am not a robber, save in your own very limited definition of the word. I am merely a poor man, Mr. Gal- braith—one of the uncounted thou- sands—and I want money. If you call for help, I shall shoot you. It Is merely a question of money, and if you are amenable to reason—\ \If I'm—but I'm not amenable to your reasons!\ blustered the presi- dent, recovering a little from the first shock of terrified astoundment. \I re- fuse to listen to them. I'll not have anything to do with you. Go away!\ The young man's smile showed his teeth, but it also proved that he was not wholly devoid of the sense of humor. \Keep your temper, Mr. Galbraith,\ he advised coolly. \The moment is mine, and I say you shall liston first and obey afterward. Otherwise you die. Which is it to be? Choose quickly—time is precious.\ The president' yielded the first point, that of the receptive ear; but grudgingly and as one under strict compulsion. \Well well, then; out with it. What have you to say for yourself?\ \This: You are rich; you represent the existing order oJ things, I am poor, and I Btand for my necessity, which is higher than any man-made law or custom. You have more money than you can possibly use in any le- gitimate personal channels; I have not the price of the next meal, already twenty-four hours overdue. I came here this morning with my life in my hand to invite you to share with me a portion of that which is yours chiefly by the right of possession. If you do it, well and good; if not, there will be a new president of the Bayou State Security. Do I make myself'sufficient- ly explicit?\ Andrew Galbraith glanced furtively at the paper-weight clock on his desk. It was nearly eleven, and MacFarland would surely come in on the stroke of the hour. If he could only fend off the catastrophe for a tew minutes, until help should come. He searched in his pockets and drew forlh a hand- ful of coins. The invader of privacies glanced at the clock in his turn and nhook his head, \You are merely trying to gain time, and you know It, Mr. Galbraith. My stake in this game is much more than a handful of charity silver; and 1 don't do you the injustice to believe that you hold your life BO cheaply; you who have so much money and, at best, so few years to live.\ The president put the little heap of coins on the desk, but he did not abandon the struggje for delay. \What's your price, then?\ he de- manded, as one who may possibly consider a compromise. \One hundred thousand dollars—In cash.\ \But man! ye're clean daft! Do ye think J have—\ In the midst of his vehement pro tests the stranger sprang out of his' chair, stepped back <v pace and raised his weapon. \Mr. Galbraith, you are juggling with your life! \ft rite a check while there Is yet time!\ The hammer of the leveled pistol, clicked. Andrew Galbraith shut his eyes and made a blind grasp for pen and checkbook. His hands were shak- ing as with a pals', but the fear of death steadied them suddenly when he oame to write. \Indorse it!\ was the next com- mand. The voices had ceased beyond the partition, and the dead silence was relieved only by the labored strokes of the president's pen and the tap-tap of the typewriter in the adjacent anteroom. The check was written and indorsed, and under the menace of the revolver Andrew Galbraith was trying to give it to the robber. But the robber would not take it. \No I don't want your paper; come with me to your paying teller and get me the money. Make what explana- tion you see fit; but remember—if he hesitates, you die.\ They left the private office together, the younger man a short half-step in the rear, with his pistol-bearing hand thrust under his coat. 'The president did not despair. In the public lobby there would be eyes to see, and per- haps some that would understand. Mr Galbraith took a firmer hold upon his self-possession and trusted that some happy chance might yet intervene to save him. But chance did not intervene. There was a goodly number of customers In the public space, but not one of the half-dozen or more who nodded to the president or passed the time of day with him saw the eye-appeal which was the only one he dared to make. On the short walk around to the pay- ing teller's window, the robber kept even step with his victim, and try as he would, Andrew Galbraith could not summon the courage to forget the pistol muzzle menacing him In Its coat-covered ambush. At the paying wicket there was only one customer, instead of the group the president had hoped to find'; a sweet-faced young woman in a mod- est traveling hat and a gray coat. She was getting a draft cashed, and when she saw them she would have stood aBide. It was the robber who antici- pated her intention and forbade It with a courteous gesture; whereat she turned again to the window to con- clude her small transaction with the teller. The few moments which followed were terribly trying ones for the gray- haired president of the Bayou State Security. None the less, his brain was busy with the chanceful possi- bilities. Failing all else, he was deter- mined to give the teller a warning signal, come what might. It was a duty owed to society no less than to the bank and to himself. But on the \How will you hava iff\ he asked; and It was the stranger at Mr. Gal- braith's elbow who answered, \One thousand, in fives, tens and twenties; loose, if you please; the re- mainder In the largest denominations, put up In a package.\ The teller counted out the one thou- sand in small notes quickly; but he had to leave the cage and go to the vault for the huge remainder, This was the crucial moment of peril for the robber, and the president, stealing a glance at the face of his persecutor, saw the blue eyes blazing with ex- citement. \It is your time to pray, Mr. Gal- braith,\ said the spoiler in low tones. \If you have given your man the sig- nal--\ But the signal had not been given. The teller was re-entering the ca&e with a bulky packet of money paper. \You needn't open it,\ said the young .man at the president's elbow. \The bank's count is good enough for me.\ And when the window wicket had' been unlatched and the money passed, out, he stuffed the loose bills carelessly into his pocket, put the package • containing the ninety-nine thousand dollars under his arm, nod- ded to the president, backed swiftly to the street door and vanished. Then it was that Mr. Andrew Gal- braith suddenly found speech, opening his thin lips and pouring forth a tor- rent of Incoherence which presently got itself translated into a vengeful hue and cry; and New Orleans the un- impetuous had its sensation ready- made. The Hammer of the Leveled Pistol Clicked. pinnacle of resolution, at the instant when, with the robber at his elbow, he stepped to the window and pre- sented the check, Andrew Galbraith felt the gentle pressure of the pistol muzzle against his side; nay, more— he fancied he' could feel the cold chill of the metal strike through and through him. So It came about that the fine reso- lution had quite evaporated when he said, with what composure there was In him: \You'll please give me cur- rency for that, Johnson.\ The teller glanced at the check and then at his superior; not too inquisi- tively, since It was not lis business to question the president's com- mands. through the old French quarter towanj the .French market. In a narrow, alley giving upon the levee he finally found what he Wats looking, for; a dingy.sail, ors' barber's shop. The harber was a negro, fat, unctuous and, sleepy Rook- ing, and he was alone; \Yes .Ban-; shave, boss?\ asked the negro, bowing and scraping a foot when-Griswold entered. \No; a hair cut;\ . The customer produced a silver half-dollar. \Go somewhere and get me a cigar to smoke while you are doing it Get a good one; if you have to go to Canal street,\ he added, climbing into the rickety chair. , The fat negro shuffled out, scenting tips. The moment he was out of sight Griswold, took up the scissors and began to hack awkwardly at his beard and mustache; awkwardly, but swiftly and with well-considered pur- pose; The result was a fairly com- plete metamorphosis easily wrought In place of the trim beard and curling mustache there was a rough stubble, stiff and uneven, like that on the fade of a man who had neglected to shave for a week or two, \There) I think that will answer,\ he told himself, standing back before the cracked -looking-glass to get the general 'effect. \And it Is decently original. The professional cracksman 1 would probably have shaved, where; upon the first amateur detective he CHAPTER III. lo Trlumphel Once safely in the street, Kenneth Griswold, with a thousand dollars in his pocket and the packet of hank- notes under his arm, was seized by an impulse to do some extravagant thing to celebrate his success. It had proved to be such a simple matter, after all— one bold stroke; a tussle, happily bloodless, with the plutocratic dragon whose hold upon his treasure was so easily broken; and presto! the hungry proletary had become himself a power in the world, strong to do good or evil, as the gods might direct. This was the prompting to exulta- tion as it might have been set In words; hut in Griswold's thought it was but a swift suggestion, followed instantly by another which was much more to the immediate purpose. He was hungry; there was a restaurant next door to the bank. Without think- ing overmuch of the risk he ran, and perhaps not at all of the audacious subtlety of such an expedient at such a critical moment, he went in, sat down at one of the small marble- topped tables, and calmly ordered breakfast. Since hunger is a lusty special pleader, making itself heard above any pulpit drum of the higher facul- ties, it is quite probable that Gris- wold dwelt leas upon what he had done than upon what he was about to eat, until the hue and cry in the street reminded him that the chase was begun. But at this, not to appear suspiciously incurious, he put on the mask of indifferent Interest and asked the waiter concerning the uproar. The serving man did not know what had happened, but he would go and find out if M'sieu' so desired. \M'sieu'\ said breakfast first, by all means, and information afterward. Both came in due season, and the hungry one ate while he listened. Transmuted into the broken English of the Gascon serving man, the story of the robbery lost nothing in its sen- sational features. It was very evident tnat the pluto- cratic dragon did not intend to accept defeat without a struggle, and Gris- wold set his wits at work upon the problem of escape. \It's a little queer that I hadn't thought of that part of it before,\ he mused, sipping his coffee as one who need not hasten until the race is actu- ally begun. \I suppose the other fel- low, the real robber, would have fig- ured himself safely out of it—or would have thought he had—before he made the break. Since I did not, I've got to do It now, and there isn't much time to throw away. Let me see—\ he shut his eyes and went into the inventive trance of the literary craftsman—\the keynote must be originality; I must do that which the other fellow would never think of doing.\ On the strength of that decision he ventured to order a third cup of cof- fee, and before it had cooled he had outlined a plan, basing It upon a cross- questioning of the Gascon waiter. There had been but one man con- cerned in the robbery, and the side- walk gossip was beginning to describe him with discomforting accuracy. Griswold paid his score and went out boldly and with studied noncha- lance. He reasoned that, notwith- standing the growing accuracy of the street report, he was still in no Imme- diate danger so long as he remained in such close proximity to the bank. It was safe to assume that this was one of the things the professional \strong-arm man\ would hot do. But it was also evident that he must speedily lose his identity if he hoped to escape; and the lost identity must leave no clue to itself. Griswold smiled when he remem- bered how, in fiction of the felon-catch- ing sort, and in real life, for that mat- ter, the law-breaker always did leave a clue for the pursuers. Thereupon arose a determination to demonstrate practically that it was quite as pos- sible to create an inerrant fugitive as to conceive ah infallible' detective. Joining the passers-by on the side- walk, he made his way leisurely to Canal street, and thence diagonally Griswold Went Out SmMing Between His Teeth. met would reconstruct the beard on the sunburned lines. Now for a pawn- \broker; and the more avaricious he happens to be, the better he will serve the purpose.\ He went to the door and looked up and down the alley. The negro was not yet in sight, and <Griswold walked rapidly away in the direction opposite to that taken by the obliging barber, A pawnbroker's shop of the kind re- quired was not far to seek in that lo- cality, and when it was found, Gris- wold drove a hard bargain with the Portuguese Jew behind the counter. The pledge he offered waB the suit he was wearing, and the bargaining con- cluded in an exchange of the still serv- iceable business suit for a pair of but- ternut trousers, a Becond-hand coat too short in the sleeves, a flannel shirt, a .cap, and a red handkerchief; these and a sum of ready money, the Bmall- ness of which he deplored piteously before he would consent to accept It The effect of the haggling was ex- actly what Griswold had prefigured. The • Portuguese, most suspicious of his tribe, suspecting everything but the truth, flatly accused his customer of having stolen the pledge. And when Griswold departed without deny- ing the charge, suspicion became con-, viction, and the pledged clothing, which might otherwise have given the police the needed clue, was carefully hidden away against a time when the Jew's apprehensions should be quieted. Having thus disguised himself, Gris. wold made the transformation artisti- cally complete by walking a few squares in the dust of a loaded cotton float on the levee. Then he made a tramp's bundle of the manuscript of the moribund book, the pistol, and the money in the red handkerchief; and having surveyed himself with some satisfaction in the bar mirror of a riverside pot-bouse, a daring im- pulse to test his disguise by going back to the restaurant where he had breakfasted seized and bore him up- town. The experiment was an unqualified success. The proprietor of the bank- neighboring cafe not only failed to rec- ognize him; he was driven forth with revilings in. idiomatic French and brok- en English. \Bete! Go back on da levee w'ere you belong to go. I'll been kipping dis cafe for zhentlemen! Scelerat! Go!\ Griswold went out, smiling between MB teeth. \That settles the question of iden- tification and present safety,\ he as- sured himself exultantly. Then: \I believe I could walk into the Bayou State Security and not be recognized;\ As before, the daring impulse was irresistible, and he gave place to it on the spur of the moment. Fouling a five-dollar bill in the mud of the gut- ter, he went boldly Into the bank and asked the paying teller to give him silver for it. The teller sniffed at the money, scowled at the man, and turned back to his cash book without a word. Griswold's smile grew to an inward laugh when he reached the street> (TO BE CONTTNtJBTU Victims, ^Shunning Publicity, Are Glad to Say \Mum's theWordl\ MAKES ONE MISTAKE Holds Up Former Police Sergeant Who Was Riding With His Own Wtfej and Now His Game Is Up. Oklahoma City.—When Jaihes W- JBerry, former police sergeant, made a report of an attempt by alone bandit to hold ln'm up when motoring along! a. quiet street, he started something that resulted in a revelation. It has siijce become known that the robber- has been operating all summer and has mostly victimized joy riders. At the Central police station there Is a secret list of those who have re- ported their losses, but it will never be published. The total amounts to- more than- ?I0,000 in money and valu- ables. In the list are several diamond, rings of considerable value. The lone bandit operated almost entirely on the streets in the western, part of the city. Several streets there are payed for a distance of more than two miles, but are sparsely set- tled. Shade trees grow in the park- way on each side and tall weeds cover the vacant lots. \I Am an Officer; Get Out!\ On these streets the lone bandit operated unmolested. When he saw an automobile coming with a man. and woman in it his practiced eye seemed to tell him unerringly whether or not they were joy riders. If they were he walked into the middle of the street and held up his hand. When the car stopped he said t o the occupants, if there were only two: \I am an officer. Get out and come with me.\ To be caught by an officer on an. occasion of that kind was about the worst thing that could happen. Usually the man and woman obeyed at once. The bandit led them to a dark spot at the side of the street and gave his second command. \Put up your hands!\ Perhaps it was a relief to some oi, them to find that they were only in the hands of a stickup man and not in the clutches of a police officer. Made Victim Find Ring. When the robber,saw four joy rti- ers in a car—two men and two women —he usually held them up in the car. Once he held up a man and woman, and the man slipped a diamond rins from his finger and dropped it i n the Fired Several Shots. weeds. The rohber had seen it on his finger, however. \What did you do with that ring?\ he asked. \Hand it over.\ With a six-shooter held at his breast, the man said he had thrown the ring into the weeds. The robber compelled him to get out of the car and search for the ring until it was found. The only mistake made by the high- wayman, so far as is known, was when he attempted to hold up Berry, for Berry was riding with his own wife. The robber came close to the side of the automobile and commanded Berry and his wife to put Up their hands. Instead of doing BO, Barry whipped out a revolver and 1 thrust it into the highwayman's face. The bandit leaped backward into the weeds and from that hiding place fired several shots, one of which went through Berry's hat. How many joy riders he held up may never be known. If he is ever caught and convicted it will be on the evidence of Berry alone, for the others have given notice that they will not appear in court against him. To ex- plain their presence with their com- panions would be ruinous to their rep- utations. Is Called \Meanest Man.\ Portland, Ore.—Portland's meanest man, according to the police, is John M. Haberley, manager of a drug store, who was charged with stealing cigars and chewing gum from blind Tom Long's stand. Daily theft's foi over six month* have totaled a loss of more than ?10o for the blind man. \\ 1 c c c s s t: 6 r, fi T G h tl G I n tl s: t % b oi tl p;
