THE 
 
 FORTUNE 
 HUNTER 
 
 DAVID GRAHAM PHILLIPS 
 
LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 CALIFORNIA 
 SANTA CRUZ 
 
 SANTA CRUZ 
 
 Gift oi 
 
 Lem C. Brown 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
Feuerstein kissed her on the hang of her cheek 
 
 
THE 
 
 FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 DAVID GRAHAM PHILLIPS 
 
 Author of 
 
 The Deluge, The Social Secretary 
 The Plum Tree. etc. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 
 E. M. ASHE 
 
 INDIANAPOLIS 
 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
COPYRIGHT 1906 
 THE BOBBS-MBBRILL COMPANY 
 
 MAT 
 
 PRESS OF 
 
 BRAUNWORTH & CO. 
 
 BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS 
 
 BROOKLYN, N. Y. 
 
 a 
 
 ft 
 
 O/ 
 
PS 
 
 3531 
 
 t* 
 
 THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAOB 
 
 I liiNTEK JU.R. f EUER8TBIN 1 
 
 II BRASS OUTSHINES GOLD . . . .23 
 
 III FORTUNE FAVORS THE IMPUDENT . . 37 
 
 IV A BOLD DASH AND A DISASTER ... 59 
 V A SENSITIVE SOUL SEEKS SALVE ... 82 
 
 VI TRAGEDY IN TOMPKINS SQUARE . . .110 
 
 VII LOVE IN SEVERAL ASPECTS . . . .122 
 
 VIII A SHEEP WIELDS THE SHEARS . . .143 
 
 IX AN IDYL OP PLAIN PEOPLE .... 151 
 
 X MR. FEUERSTEIN Is CONSISTENT . . .169 
 
 XI MR. FEUERSTEIN s CLIMAX . . . .181 
 
 XII EXIT MR. FEUBRSTEIN . , 198 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 ENTER MR. FEUERSTEIN 
 
 On an afternoon late in April Feuer- 
 stein left his boarding-house in East Six 
 teenth Street, in the block just beyond the 
 eastern gates of Stuyvesant Square, and 
 paraded down Second Avenue. 
 
 A romantic figure was Feuerstein, of 
 the German Theater stock company. He 
 was tall and slender, and had large, hand 
 some features. His coat was cut long over 
 the shoulders and in at the waist to show 
 his lines of strength and grace. He wore 
 a pearl-gray soft hat with rakish brim, and 
 it was set with suspicious carelessness upon 
 bis bushy yellow hair. His eyes were 
 I 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 bright blue, and seemed to blazon a fiery, 
 sentimental nature. He strode along, in 
 tensely self-conscious, not in the way that 
 causes awkwardness, but in the way that 
 causes a swagger. One had only to glance 
 at him to know that he was offensive 
 to many men and fascinating to many 
 women. 
 
 Not an article of his visible clothing had 
 been paid for, and the ten-cent piece in a 
 pocket of his trousers was his total cash 
 balance. But his heart was as light as the 
 day. Had he not youth? Had he not 
 health? Had he not looks to bewitch the 
 women, brains to outwit the men? Feuer- 
 stein sniffed the delightful air and gazed 
 round, like a king in the midst of cringing 
 subjects. "I feel that this is one of my 
 lucky days," said he to himself. An aristo 
 crat, a patrician, a Hochwohlgeboren, if 
 ever one was born. 
 
 At the Fourteenth-Street crossing he 
 
ENTER MR. FEUERSTEIN 
 
 became conscious that a young man was 
 looking at him with respectful admiration 
 and with the anxiety of one who fears a 
 distinguished acquaintance has forgotten 
 him. Feuerstein paused and in his grand 
 est, most gracious manner, said : "Ah ! Mr. 
 Hartmann a glorious day!" 
 
 Young Hartmann flushed with pleasure 
 and stammered, "Yes a glorious day!" 
 
 "It is lucky I met you," continued 
 Feuerstein. "I had an appointment at the 
 Cafe Boulevard at four, and came hurry 
 ing away from my lodgings with empty 
 pockets I am so absent-minded. Could 
 you convenience me for a few hours with 
 five dollars? I'll repay you to-night you 
 will be at Goerwitz's probably? I usually 
 look in there after the theater." 
 
 Hartmann colored with embarrassment. 
 "I'm sorry," he said humbly, "I've got 
 only a two-dollar bill. If it would " 
 
 Feuerstein looked annoyed. "Perhaps 
 s 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 I can make that do. Thank you sorry to 
 trouble you. I must be more careful." 
 
 The two dollars were transferred, Feu- 
 erstein gave Hartmann a flourishing stage 
 salute and strode grandly on. Before he 
 had gone ten yards he had forgotten 
 Hartmann and had dismissed all financial 
 care had he not enough to carry him 
 through the day, even should he meet no 
 one who would pay for his dinner and his 
 drinks? "Yes, it is a day to back myself 
 to win fearlessly!" 
 
 The hedge at the Cafe Boulevard was 
 green and the tables were in the yard and 
 on the balconies; but Feuerstein entered, 
 seated himself in one of the smoke-fogged 
 reading-rooms, ordered a glass of beer, 
 and divided his attention between the Flie- 
 gende Blatter and the faces of incoming 
 men. After half an hour two men in an 
 arriving group of three nodded coldly to 
 him. He waited until they were seated, 
 
 4 
 
ENTER MR. FEUERSTEIN 
 
 then joined them and proceeded to make 
 himself agreeable to the one who had just 
 been introduced to him young Horwitz, 
 an assistant bookkeeper at a department 
 store in Twenty-third Street. But Hor 
 witz had a "soul," and the yearning of that 
 secret soul was for the stage. Feuerstein 
 did Horwitz the honor of dining with him. 
 At a quarter past seven, with his two dol 
 lars intact, with a loan of one dollar added 
 to it, and with five of his original ten cents, 
 he took himself away to the theater. 
 Afterward, by appointment, he met his 
 new friend, and did him the honor of ac 
 companying him to the Young German 
 Shooters' Society ball at Terrace Garden. 
 It was one of those simple, entirely and 
 genuinely gay entertainments that assem 
 ble the society of the real New York the 
 three and a half millions who work and 
 play hard and live plainly and without 
 pretense, whose ideals center about the 
 
 5 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 hearth, and whose aspirations are to retire 
 with a competence early in the afternoon 
 of life, thenceforth placidly to assist in the 
 prosperity of their children and to have 
 their youth over again in their grandchil 
 dren. 
 
 Feuerstein's gaze wandered from face 
 to face among the young women, to pause 
 at last upon a dark, handsome, strong- 
 looking daughter of the people. She had 
 coal-hlack hair that curled about a low 
 forehead. Her eyes were dreamy and 
 stormy. Her mouth was sweet, if a trifle 
 petulant. "And who is she?" he asked. 
 
 "That's Hilda Brauner," replied Hor- 
 witz. "Her father has a delicatessen in 
 Avenue A. He's very rich owns three 
 flat-houses. They must bring him in at 
 least ten thousand net, not to speak of 
 what he makes in the store. They're fine 
 people, those Brauners; none nicer any 
 where." 
 
She blushed and was painfully ill at ease Page 7 
 
ENTER MR. FEUERSTEIN 
 
 "A beautiful creature," said Feuerstein, 
 who was feeling like a prince who, for rea 
 sons of sordid necessity, had condescended 
 to a party in Fifth Avenue. "I'd like to 
 meet her." 
 
 "Certainly," replied Horwitz. "I'll in 
 troduce her to you." 
 
 She blushed and was painfully ill at 
 ease in presence of his grand and lofty 
 courtesy she who had been used to the 
 offhand manners which prevail wherever 
 there is equality of the sexes and the cus 
 tom of frank sociability. And when he 
 asked her to dance she would have refused 
 had she been able to speak at all. But he 
 bore her off and soon made her forget her 
 self in the happiness of being drifted in 
 his strong arm upon the rhythmic billows 
 of the waltz. At the end he led her to a 
 seat and fell to complimenting her his 
 eyes eloquent, his voice, it seemed to her, 
 as entrancing as the waltz music. When 
 7 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 he spoke in German it was without the 
 harsh sputtering and growling, the sloven 
 ly slurring and clipping to which she had 
 been accustomed. She could answer only 
 with monosyllables or appreciative looks, 
 though usually she was a great talker and, 
 as she had much common sense and not a 
 little wit, a good talker. But her awe of 
 him, which increased when she learned 
 that he was on the stage, did not prevent 
 her from getting the two main impressions 
 he wished to make upon her that Mr. 
 Feuerstein was a very grand person in 
 deed, and that he was condescending to be 
 profoundly smitten of her charms. 
 
 She was the "catch" of Avenue A, tak 
 ing prospects and looks together, and the 
 men she knew had let her rule them. In 
 Mr. Feuerstein she had found what she 
 had been unconsciously seeking with the 
 Ideallsmus of genuine youth a man who 
 compelled her to look far up to him, a 
 
 8 
 
ENTER MR. FEUERSTEIN 
 
 man who seemed to her to embody those 
 vague dreams of a life grand and beauti 
 ful, away off somewhere, which are 
 dreamed by all young people, and by not a 
 few older ones, who have less excuse for not 
 knowing where happiness is to be found. 
 He spent the whole evening with her ; Mrs. 
 Liebers and Sophie, with whom she had 
 come, did not dare interrupt her pleasure, 
 but had to stay, yawning and cross, until 
 the last strain of Home, Sweet Home. 
 
 At parting he pressed her hand. "I 
 have been happy," he murmured in a tone 
 which said, "Mine is a sorrow-shadowed 
 soul that has rarely tasted happiness." 
 
 She glanced up at him with ingenuous 
 feeling in her eyes and managed to stam 
 mer: "I hope we'll meet again." 
 
 "Couldn't I come down to see you Sun 
 day evening?" 
 
 "There's a concert in the Square. If 
 you're there I might see you." 
 9 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 "Until Sunday night," he said, and 
 made her feel that the three intervening 
 days would be for him three eternities. 
 
 She thought of him all the way home in 
 the car, and until she fell asleep. His so 
 norous name was in her mind when she 
 awoke in the morning; and, as she stood 
 in the store that day, waiting on the cus 
 tomers, she looked often at the door, and, 
 with the childhood-surviving faith of 
 youth in the improbable and impossible, 
 hoped that he would appear. For the first 
 time she was definitely discontented with 
 her lot, was definitely fascinated by the 
 idea that there might be something higher 
 and finer than the simple occupations and 
 simple enjoyments which had filled her 
 life thus far. 
 
 In the evening after supper her father 
 and mother left her and her brother Au 
 gust in charge, and took their usual stroll 
 10 
 
ENTER MR. FEUERSTEIN 
 
 for exercise and for the profound delight 
 of a look at their flat-houses those re 
 minders of many years of toil and thrift. 
 They had spent their youth, she as cook, 
 he as helper, in one of New York's earliest 
 delicatessen shops. When they had saved 
 three thousand dollars they married and 
 put into effect the plan which had been 
 their chief subject of conversation every 
 day and every evening for ten years 
 they opened the "delicatessen" in Avenue 
 A, near Second Street. They lived in two 
 back rooms; they toiled early and late for 
 twenty-three contented, cheerful years 
 she in the shop when she was not doing the 
 housework or caring for the babies, he in 
 the great clean cellar, where the cooking 
 and cabbage-cutting and pickling and 
 spicing were done. And now, owners of 
 three houses that brought in eleven thou 
 sand a year clear, they were about to re 
 tire. They had fixed on a place in the 
 11 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 Bronx, in the East Side, of course, with a 
 big garden, where every kind of gay 
 flpwer and good vegetable could be grown, 
 and an arbor where there could be pinochle, 
 beer and coffee on Sunday afternoons. In 
 a sentence, they were honorable and ex 
 emplary members of that great mass of 
 humanity which has the custody of the 
 present and the future of the race those 
 who live by the sweat of their own brows 
 or their own brains, and train their chil 
 dren to do likewise, those who maintain 
 the true ideals of happiness and progress, 
 those from whom spring all the workers 
 and all the leaders of thought and action. 
 They walked slowly up the Avenue, 
 speaking to their neighbors, pausing now 
 and then for a joke or to pat a baby on 
 the head, until they were within two blocks 
 of Tompkins Square. They stopped be 
 fore a five-story tenement, evidently the 
 dwelling-place of substantial, intelligent, 
 12 
 
ENTER MR. FEUERSTEIN 
 
 self-respecting artisans and their families, 
 leading the natural life of busy useful 
 ness. In its first floor was a delicatessen 
 the sign read "Schwartz and Heilig." 
 Paul Brauner pointed with his long- 
 stemmed pipe at the one show-window. 
 "Fine, isn't it? Beautiful!" he exclaimed 
 in Low-German they and almost all 
 their friends spoke Low-German, and 
 used English only when they could not 
 avoid it. 
 
 The window certainly was well ar 
 ranged. Only a merchant who knew his 
 business thoroughly both his wares and 
 his customers could have thus displayed 
 cooked chickens, hams and tongues, the 
 imported sausages and fish, the jelly-in 
 closed paste of chicken livers, the bottles 
 and jars of pickled or spiced meats and 
 vegetables and fruits. The spectacle was 
 adroitly arranged to move the hungry to 
 yearning, the filled to regret, and the dys- 
 13 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 peptic to rage and remorse. And behind 
 the show-window lay a shop whose shelves, 
 counters and floor were clean as toil could 
 make and keep them, and whose air was 
 saturated with the most delicious odors. 
 
 Mrs. Brauner nodded. "Heilig was up 
 at half-past four this morning," she said. 
 "He cleans out every morning and he 
 moves everything twice a week." She had 
 a round, honest face that was an inspiring 
 study in simplicity, sense and sentiment. 
 
 "What a worker!" was her husband's 
 comment. "So unlike most of the young 
 men nowadays. If August were only like 
 him!" 
 
 "You'd think Heilig was a drone if he 
 were your son," replied Mrs. Brauner. 
 She knew that if any one else had dared 
 thus to attack their boy, his father would 
 have been growling and snapping like an 
 angry bear. 
 
 "That's right!" he retorted with mock 
 14 
 
ENTER MR. FEUERSTEIN 
 
 scorn. "Defend your children! You'll be 
 excusing Hilda for putting off Heilig 
 next." 
 
 "She'll marry him give her time," 
 said Mrs. Brauner. "She's romantic, but 
 she's sensible, too why, she was born to 
 make a good wife to a hard-working man. 
 Where's there another woman that knows 
 the business as she does? You admit on 
 her birthdays that she's the only real helper 
 you ever had." 
 
 "Except you," said her husband. 
 
 "Never mind me." Mrs. Brauner pre 
 tended to disdain the compliment. 
 
 Brauner understood, however. "We 
 have had the best, you and I," said he. 
 "Arbeit und Liebe und Heim. Nicht 
 wdhr?" Otto Heilig appeared in his door 
 way and greeted them awkwardly. Nor 
 did their cordiality lessen his embarrass 
 ment. His pink and white skin was rosy 
 red and his frank blue-gray eyes shifted 
 15 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 uneasily. But he was smiling with eager 
 friendliness, showing even, sound, white 
 teeth. 
 
 "You are coming to see us to-morrow?" 
 asked Mrs. Brauner he always called on 
 Sunday afternoons and stayed until five, 
 when he had to open shop for the Sunday 
 supper rush. 
 
 "Why that is not exactly no," he 
 stammered. Hilda had told him not to 
 come, but he knew that if he admitted it 
 to her parents they would be severe with 
 her. He didn't like anybody to be severe 
 with Hilda, and he felt that their way of 
 helping his courtship was not suited to 
 the modern ideas. "They make her hate 
 me," he often muttered. But if he resent 
 ed it he would offend them and Hilda too ; 
 if he acquiesced he encouraged them and 
 added to Hilda's exasperation. 
 
 Mrs. Brauner knew at once that Hilda 
 was in some way the cause of the break in 
 16 
 
ENTER MR. FEUERSTEIN 
 
 the custom. "Oh, you must come," she 
 said. "We'd feel strange all week if we 
 didn't see you on Sunday." 
 
 "Yes I must have my cards," insisted 
 Brauner. He and Otto always played 
 pinochle; Otto's eyes most of the time and 
 his thoughts all the time were on Hilda, 
 in the corner, at the zither, playing the 
 maddest, most romantic music ; her father 
 therefore usually won, poor at the game 
 though he was. It made him cross to lose, 
 and Otto sometimes defeated his own luck 
 deliberately when love refused to do it for 
 him. 
 
 "Very well, then that is if I can 
 I'll try to come." 
 
 Several customers pushed past him into 
 his shop and he had to rejoin his partner, 
 Schwartz, behind the counters. Brauner 
 and his wife walked slowly home it was 
 late and there would be more business 
 than Hilda and August could attend 
 17 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 to. As they crossed Third Street Brauner 
 said: "Hilda must go and tell him to 
 come. This is her doing." 
 
 "But she can't do that," objected Mrs. 
 Brauner. "She'd say it was throwing her 
 self at his head." 
 
 "Not if I send her?" Brauner frowned 
 with a seeming of severity. "Not if I, her 
 father, send her for two chickens, as 
 we're out?" Then he laughed. His fierce 
 ness was the family joke when Hilda 
 was small she used to say, "Now, get mad, 
 father, and make little Hilda laugh!" 
 
 Hilda was behind the counter, a cus 
 tomer watching with fascinated eyes the 
 graceful, swift movements of her arms 
 and hands as she tied up a bundle. Her 
 sleeves were rolled to her dimpled elbows, 
 and her arms were round and strong and 
 white, and her skin was fine and smooth. 
 Her shoulders were wide, but not square ; 
 her hips were narrow, her wrists, her hands, 
 
 18 
 
ENTER MR. FEUERSTEIN 
 
 her head, small. She looked healthy and 
 vigorous and useful as well as beautiful. 
 
 When the customers had gone Brauner 
 said: "Go up to Schwartz and Heilig, 
 daughter, and ask them for two two- 
 pound chickens. And tell Otto Heilig 
 you'll be glad to see him to-morrow." 
 
 "But we don't need the chickens, now. 
 We " Hilda's brow contracted and her 
 chin came out. 
 
 "Do as I tell you," said her father. 
 "My children shall not sink to the disre 
 spect of these days." 
 
 "But I shan't be here to-morrow! I've 
 made another engagement." 
 
 "You shall be here to-morrow! If you 
 don't wish young Heilig here for your 
 own sake, you must show consideration 
 for your parents. Are they to be deprived 
 of their Sunday afternoon? You have 
 never done this before, Hilda. You have 
 never forgotten us before." 
 19 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 Hilda hung her head; after a moment 
 she unrolled her sleeves, laid aside her 
 apron and set out. She was repentant 
 toward her father, but she felt that Otto 
 was to blame. She determined to make 
 him suffer for it how easy it was to make 
 him suffer, and how pleasant to feel that 
 this big fellow was her slave! She went 
 straight up to him. "So you complained 
 of me, did you?" she said scornfully, 
 though she knew well that he had not, that 
 he could not have done anything that even 
 seemed mean. 
 
 He flushed. "No no," he stammered. 
 "No, indeed, Hilda. Don't think" 
 
 She looked contempt. "Well, you've 
 won. Come down Sunday afternoon. I 
 suppose I'll have to endure it." 
 
 "Hilda, you're wrong. I will not 
 come!" He was angry, but his mind was 
 confused. He loved her with all the 
 strength of his simple, straightforward 
 
 20 
 
ENTER MR. FEUERSTEIN 
 
 nature. Therefore he appeared at his 
 worst before her usually either incoher 
 ent or dumb. It was not surprising that 
 whenever it was suggested that only a 
 superior man could get on so well as he 
 did, she always answered: "He works 
 twice as hard as any one else, and you don't 
 need much brains if you'll work hard." 
 
 She now cut him short. "If you don't 
 come I'll have to suffer for it," she said. 
 "You must come! I'll not be glad to see 
 you. But if you don't come I'll never 
 speak to you again!" And she left him 
 and went to the other counter and ordered 
 the chickens from Schwartz. 
 
 Heilig was wretched, another of those 
 hideous dilemmas over which he had been 
 stumbling like a drunken man in a dark 
 room full of furniture ever since he let his 
 mother go to Mrs. Brauner and ask her 
 for Hilda. He watched Hilda's splendid 
 back, and fumbled about, upsetting bot- 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 ties and rattling dishes, until she went out 
 with a glance of jeering scorn. Schwartz 
 burst out laughing. 
 
 "Anybody could tell you are in love," he 
 said. "Be stiff with her, Otto, and you'll 
 get her all right. It don't do to let a woman 
 see that you care about her. The worse you 
 treat the women the better they like it. 
 When they used to tell my father about 
 some woman being crazy over a man, he 
 always used to say, 'What sort of a scoun 
 drel is he?' That was good sense." 
 
 Otto made no reply. No doubt these 
 maxims were sound and wise ; but how was 
 he to apply them? How could he pretend 
 indifference when at sight of her he could 
 open his jaws only enough to chatter 
 them, could loosen his tongue only enough 
 to roll it thickly about? "I can work," he 
 said to himself, "and I can pay my debts 
 and have something over; but when it 
 comes to love I'm no good." 
 
 22 
 
II 
 
 BRASS OUTSHINES GOLD 
 
 Hilda returned to her father's shop and 
 was busy there until nine o'clock. Then 
 Sophie Liebers came and they went into 
 the Avenue for a walk. They pushed their 
 way through and with the throngs up 
 into Tompkins Square the center of one 
 of the several vast districts, little known 
 because little written about, that contain 
 the real New York and the real New 
 Yorkers. In the Square several thousand 
 young people were promenading, many 
 of the girls walking in pairs, almost all 
 the young men paired off, each with a 
 young woman. It was warm, and the stars 
 beamed down upon the hearts of young 
 lovers, blotting out for them electric lights 
 and surrounding crowds. It caused no 
 
 23 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 comment there for a young couple to walk 
 hand in hand, looking each at the other 
 with the expression that makes common 
 place eyes wonderful. And when the 
 sound of a kiss came from a somewhat se 
 cluded bench, the only glances cast in the 
 direction whence it had come were glances 
 of approval or envy. 
 
 "There's Otto Heilig dogging us," said 
 Hilda to Sophie, as they walked up and 
 down. "Do you wonder I hate him?" 
 They talked in American, as did all the 
 young people, except with those of their 
 elders who could speak only German. 
 
 Sophie was silent. If Hilda had been 
 noting her face she would have seen a look 
 of satisfaction. 
 
 "I can't bear him,'* went on Hilda. "No 
 girl could. He's so stupid and and com 
 mon!" Never before had she used that 
 last word in such a sense. Mr. Feuerstein 
 had begun to educate her. 
 
 24 
 
BRASS OUTSHINES GOLD 
 
 Sophie's unobserved look changed to 
 resentment. "Of course he's not equal to 
 Mr. Feuerstein," she said. "But he's a 
 very nice fellow at least for an ordinary 
 girl." Sophie's father was an upholsterer, 
 and not a good one. He owned no tene 
 ments was barely able to pay the rent 
 for a small corner of one. Thus her sole 
 dower was her pretty face and her cun 
 ning. She had an industrious, scheming, 
 not overscrupulous brain and her hopes 
 and plans. Nor had she time to waste. 
 For she was nearer twenty-three than 
 twenty-two, at the outer edge of the mar 
 riageable age of Avenue A, which believes 
 in an early start at what it regards as the 
 main business of life the family. 
 
 "You surely couldn't marry such a man 
 as Otto!" said Hilda absently. Her eyes 
 were searching the crowd, near and far. 
 
 Sophie laughed. "Beggars can't be 
 choosers," she answered. "I think he's all 
 
 25 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 right as men go. It wouldn't do for me 
 to expect too much." 
 
 Just then Hilda caught sight of Mr. 
 Feuerstein the godlike head, the glori 
 ous hair, the graceful hat. Her manner 
 changed her eyes brightened, her cheeks 
 reddened, and she talked fast and laughed 
 a great deal. As they passed near him she 
 laughed loudly and called out to Sophie as 
 if she were not at her elbow she feared 
 he would not see. Mr. Feuerstein turned 
 his picturesque head, slowly lifted his hat 
 and joined them. At once Hilda became 
 silent, listening with rapt attention to the 
 commonplaces he delivered in sonorous, 
 oracular tones. 
 
 As he deigned to talk only to Hilda, 
 who was walking between Sophie and him, 
 Sophie was free to gaze round. She spied 
 Otto Heilig drooping dejectedly along. 
 She adroitly steered her party so that it 
 crossed his path. He looked up to find 
 26 
 
BRASS OUTSHINES GOLD 
 
 himself staring at Hilda. She frowned at 
 this disagreeable apparition into her hap 
 piness, and quickened her step. But 
 Sophie, without letting go of Hilda's 
 hand, paused and spoke to Otto. Thus 
 Hilda was forced to stop and to say un 
 graciously: "Mr. Feuerstein, Mr. Hei- 
 
 Then she and Mr. Feuerstein went on, 
 and Sophie drew the reluctant Otto in be 
 hind them. She gradually slackened her 
 pace, so that she and Heilig dropped back 
 until several couples separated them from 
 Hilda and Mr. Feuerstein. A few min 
 utes and Hilda and Mr. Feuerstein were 
 seated on a bench in the deep shadow of a 
 tree, Sophie and Heilig walking slowly to 
 and fro a short distance away. 
 
 Heilig was miserable with despondent 
 
 jealousy. He longed to inquire about this 
 
 remarkable-looking new friend of Hil 
 
 da's. For Mr. Feuerstein seemed to be of 
 
 27 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 that class of strangers whom Avenue A 
 condemns on their very appearance. It 
 associates respectability with work only, 
 and it therefore suspects those who look 
 as if they did not work and did not know 
 how. Sophie was soon answering of her 
 own accord the questions Heilig as a gen 
 tleman could not ask. "You must have 
 heard of Mr. Feuerstein? He's an actor 
 at the German Theater. I don't think he's 
 much of an actor he's one of the kind 
 that do all their acting off the stage." 
 
 Heilig laughed unnaturally. He did 
 not feel like laughing, but wished to show 
 his gratitude to Sophie for this shrewd 
 blow at his enemy. "He's rigged out like 
 a lunatic, isn't he?" Otto was thinking of 
 the long hair, the low-rolling shirt collar 
 and the velvet collar on his coat, light 
 gray, to match his hat and suit. 
 
 "I don't see what Hilda finds in him," 
 continued Sophie. "It makes me laugh to 
 
 28 
 
BRASS OUTSHINES GOLD 
 
 look at him ; and when he talks I can hard 
 ly keep from screaming in his face. But 
 Hilda's crazy over him, as you see. He 
 tells all sorts of romances about him 
 self, and she believes every word. I think 
 she'll marry him you know, her father 
 lets her do as she pleases. Isn't it funny 
 that a sensible girl like Hilda can be so 
 foolish?" 
 
 Heilig did not answer this, nor did he 
 heed the talk on love and marriage which 
 the over-eager Sophie proceeded to give. 
 And it was talk worth listening to, as it 
 presented love and marriage in the inter 
 esting, romantic-sensible Avenue A light. 
 Otto was staring gloomily at the shadow 
 of the tree. He would have been gloomier 
 could he have witnessed the scene to which 
 the unmoral old elm was lending its im 
 partial shade. 
 
 Mr. Feuerstein was holding Hilda's 
 hand while he looked soulfully down into 
 29 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 her eyes. She was returning his gaze, her 
 eyes expressing all the Schwdrmerei of 
 which their dark depths were capable at 
 nineteen. He was telling her what a high 
 profession the actor's was, how great he 
 was as an actor, how commonplace her life 
 there, how beautiful he could make it if 
 only he had money. It was an experience 
 to hear Mr. Feuerstein say the word 
 "money." Elocution could go no further 
 in surcharging five letters with contempt. 
 His was one of those lofty natures that 
 scorn all such matters of intimate concern 
 to the humble, hard-pressed little human 
 animal as food, clothing and shelter. He 
 so loathed money that he would not deign 
 to work for it, and as rapidly as possible 
 got rid of any that came into his posses 
 sion. 
 
 "Yes, my adorable little princess," he 
 rolled out, in the tones which wove a spell 
 over Hilda. "I adore you. How strange 
 SO 
 
BRASS OUTSHINES GOLD 
 
 that I should have wandered into this 
 region for my soul's bride and should 
 have found her!" 
 
 Hilda pressed his clasping hand and 
 her heart fluttered. But she was as silent 
 and shy as Heilig with her. What words 
 had she fit to express response to these 
 exalted emotions? "I I feel it," she said 
 timidly. "But I can't say it to you. You 
 must think me very foolish." 
 
 "No you need not speak. I know what 
 you would say. Our hearts speak each to 
 the other without words, my beautiful 
 jewel. And what do you think your par 
 ents will say ?" 
 
 "I I don't know," stammered Hilda. 
 "They are so set on my marrying" she 
 glanced toward Otto how ordinary he 
 looked! "marrying another a merchant 
 like my father. They think only of what 
 is practical. I'm so afraid they won't un 
 derstand us/' 
 
 3J 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 Feuerstein sighed the darkness pre 
 vented her from seeing that he was also 
 frowning with impatience and irritation. 
 "But it must be settled at once, my heart's 
 bride," he said gently. "Secrecy, decep 
 tion are horrible to me. And I am mad to 
 claim you as my own. I could not take 
 you without their consent that would be 
 unworthy. No, I could not grieve their 
 honest hearts !" 
 
 Hilda was much disturbed. She was 
 eminently practical herself, aside from her 
 fondness for romance, which Mr. Feuer 
 stein was developing in a way so unnat 
 ural in her surroundings, so foreign to 
 her education; and she could see just how 
 her father would look upon her lover. She 
 feared he would vent plain speech that 
 would cut Mr. Feuerstein's sensitive soul 
 and embattle his dignity and pride against 
 his love. "I'll speak to them as soon as I 
 can," she said. 
 
 33 
 
BRASS OUTSHINES GOLD 
 
 "Then you will speak to them to-mor 
 row or next day, my treasure, and I shall 
 see you on Sunday afternoon." 
 
 "No not Sunday afternoon. I must 
 stay at home father has ordered it." 
 
 "Disappointment deception post 
 ponement!" Feuerstein struck his hand 
 upon his brow and sighed tragically. 
 "Oh, my little Erebus-haired angel, how 
 you do test my love !" 
 
 Hilda was almost in tears it was all 
 intensely real to her. She felt that he was 
 superfine, that he suffered more than or 
 dinary folk, like herself and her people. 
 "I'll do the best I can," she pleaded. 
 
 "It would be best for you to introduce 
 them to me at once and let me speak." 
 
 "No no," she protested earnestly, ter 
 ror in her voice and her hand trembling in 
 his. "That would spoil everything. You 
 wouldn't understand them, or they you. 
 I'll speak and see you Monday night." 
 33 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 "Let it be so," he conceded. "But I 
 must depart. I am studying a new role." 
 He had an engagement to take supper 
 with several of his intimates at the Irving 
 Place cafe, where he could throw aside the 
 heaviest parts of his pose and give way to 
 his appetite for beer and Schweizerkase 
 sandwiches. "How happy we shall be !" he 
 murmured tenderly, kissing her cheek and 
 thinking how hard it was to be practical 
 and keep remote benefits in mind when she 
 was so beautiful and so tempting and so 
 trustful. He said aloud: "I am impatient, 
 soul's delight! Is it strange?" And he 
 bowed like a stage courtier to a stage 
 queen and left her. 
 
 She joined Sophie and Heilig and 
 walked along in silence, Sophie between 
 Otto and her. He caught glimpses of her 
 face, and it made his heart ache and his 
 courage faint to see the love-light in her 
 eyes and she as far away from him as 
 
 34 
 
BRASS OUTSHINES GOLD 
 
 Heaven from hell, far away in a world 
 from which he was excluded. He and 
 Sophie left her at her father's and he took 
 Sophie home. 
 
 Sophie felt that she had done a fair 
 evening's work not progress, hut pro 
 gress in sight. "At least," she reflected, 
 "he's seeing that he isn't in it with Hilda 
 and never can be. I must hurry her on 
 and get her married to that fool. A pair 
 of fools!" 
 
 Heilig found his mother waiting up for 
 him. As she saw his expression, anxiety 
 left her face, but cast a deeper shadow 
 over her heart. She felt his sorrow as 
 keenly as he she who would have laid 
 down her life for him gladly. 
 
 "Don't lose heart, my big boy," she said, 
 patting him on the shoulder as he bent to 
 kiss her. 
 
 At this he dropped down beside her and 
 hid his face in her lap and cried like the 
 
 35 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 boy-man that he was. <c Ach, Gott, mother, 
 I love her so!" he sobbed. 
 
 Her tears fell on the back of his head. 
 Her boy who had gone so bravely to 
 work when the father was killed at his ma 
 chine, leaving them penniless; her boy 
 who had laughed and sung and whistled 
 and diffused hope and courage and made 
 her feel that the burden was not a burden 
 but a joy for his strong, young shoulders. 
 
 "Courage, beloved!" she said. "Hilda 
 is a good girl. All will yet be well." And 
 she felt it God would not be God if He 
 could let this heart of gold be crushed to 
 powder. 
 
Ill 
 
 FORTUNE FAVORS THE IMPUDENT 
 
 Like all people who lead useful lives 
 and neither have nor pretend to have ac 
 quired tastes for fine-drawn emotion, Otto 
 and Hilda indulged in little mooning. 
 They put aside their burdens hers of 
 dread, his of despair and went about the 
 work that had to be done and that health 
 fully filled almost all their waking mo 
 ments ; and when bed-time came their tired 
 bodies refused either to sit up with their 
 brains or to let their brains stay awake. 
 But it was gray and rainy for Hilda and 
 black night for Otto. 
 
 On Sunday morning he rose at half- 
 past three, instead of at four, his week-day 
 rising time. Many of his hard-working 
 customers were astir betimes on Sunday to 
 37 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 have the longer holiday. As they would 
 spend the daylight hours in the country 
 and would not reach home until after the 
 shop had closed, they bought the supplies 
 for a cold or warmed-up supper before 
 starting. Otto looked so sad usually he 
 was in high spirits that most of these 
 early customers spoke to him or to Joe 
 Schwartz about his health. There were 
 few of them who did not know what was 
 troubling him. Among those friendly and 
 unpretending and well-acquainted people 
 any one's affairs were every one's affairs 
 why make a secret of what was, after 
 all, only the routine of human life the 
 world over and the ages through? Thus 
 Otto had the lively but tactful sympathy 
 of the whole community. 
 
 He became less gloomy under the 
 warmth of this succession of friendly 
 faces and friendly inquiries. But as trade 
 slackened, toward noon, he had more leis- 
 
 38 
 
FORTUNE FAVORS 
 
 ure to think, and the throbbing ache re 
 turned to his heavy heart. All the time 
 pictures of her were passing before his 
 eyes. He had known her so long and she 
 had become such an intimate part of his 
 daily life, so interwoven with it, that he 
 could not look at present, past or future 
 without seeing her. 
 
 Why, he had known her since she was a 
 baby. Did he not remember the day when 
 he, a small boy on his way to school, had 
 seen her toddle across the sidewalk in 
 front of him? Could he ever forget how 
 she had reached with great effort into a 
 snowbank, had dug out with her small, 
 red-mittened hands a chunk of snow, and, 
 lifting it high above her head, had thrown 
 it weakly at him with such force that she 
 had fallen headlong upon the sidewalk? 
 He had seen her every day since then 
 every day! 
 
 He most clearly of all recalled her as a 
 39 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 school-girl. Those were the days of the 
 German bands of six and seven and even 
 eight pieces, wandering as the hand-or 
 gans do now. And always with them came 
 a swarm of little girls who danced when 
 the band played, and of little boys who lis 
 tened and watched. He had often fol 
 lowed her as she followed a band, all day 
 on a Saturday. And he had never wearied 
 of watching her long, slim legs twinkling 
 tirelessly to the music. She invented new 
 figures and variations on steps which the 
 other girls adopted. She and her especial 
 friends became famous among the chil 
 dren throughout the East Side;, even 
 grown people noted the grace and origi 
 nality of a particular group of girls, led 
 by a black-haired, slim-legged one who 
 danced with all there was of her. And how 
 their mothers did whip them when they re 
 turned from a day of this forbidden joy! 
 But they were off again the next Saturday 
 
 40 
 
FORTUNE FAVORS 
 
 who would not pass a bad five minutes 
 for the sake of hours on hours of delight? 
 
 And Hilda was gone from his life, was 
 sailing away on his ship was it not his 
 ship? was not its cargo his hopes and 
 dreams and plans? was sailing away with 
 another man at the helm! And he could 
 do nothing must sit dumb upon the 
 shore. 
 
 At half -past twelve he closed the shop 
 and, after the midday dinner with his 
 mother, went down to Brauner's. Hilda 
 was in the room back of the shop, alone, 
 and so agitated with her own affairs that 
 she forgot to be cold and contemptuous to 
 Otto. He bowed to her, then stood staring 
 at the framed picture of Die Wacht am 
 Rhein as if he had never before seen the 
 wonderful lady in red and gold seated 
 under a tree and gazing out over the river 
 all the verses were underneath. When 
 he could stare at it no longer he turned to 
 
 41 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 the other wall where hung the target bear 
 ing the marks of Paul Brauner's best shots 
 in the prize contest he had won. But he 
 saw neither the lady watching the -Rhine 
 nor the target with its bullet holes all in 
 the bull's-eye ring, and its pendent festoon 
 of medals. He was longing to pour out his 
 love for her, to say to her the thousand 
 things he could say to the image of her 
 in his mind when she was not near. But 
 he could only stand, an awkward figure, 
 at which she would have smiled if she had 
 seen it at all. 
 
 She went out into the shop. While he 
 was still trying to lay hold of an end of 
 the spinning tangle of his thoughts and 
 draw it forth in the hope that all would 
 follow, she returned, fright in her eyes. 
 She clasped her hands nervously and her 
 cheeks blanched. "Mr. Feuerstein!" she 
 exclaimed. "And he's coming here! What 
 shallldo?' 
 
 42 
 
FORTUNE FAVORS 
 
 "What is the matter?" he asked. 
 
 She turned upon him angrily he was 
 the convenient vent for her nervousness. 
 "It's all your fault!" she exclaimed. 
 "They want to force me to marry you. 
 And I dare not bring here the man I love." 
 
 "My fault?" he muttered, dazed. "I'm 
 not to blame." 
 
 "Stupid! You're always in the way no 
 wonder I hate you!" She was clasping and 
 unclasping her hands, trying to think, not 
 conscious of what she was saying. 
 
 "Hate me?" he repeated mechanically. 
 "Oh, no surely not that. No, you 
 
 can' 
 
 "Be still! Let me think. r Achl Gottim 
 Himmel! He's in the hall!" She sank 
 wretchedly into a chair. "Can you do 
 nothing but gape and mutter?" In her 
 desperation her tone was appealing. 
 
 "He can say he came with me," said 
 Otto. "I'll stand for him." 
 
 43 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 "Yes yes!" she cried. "That will do! 
 Thank you thank you!" And as the 
 knock came at the door she opened it. She 
 had intended to be reproachful, but she 
 could not. This splendid, romantic crea 
 ture, with his graceful hat and his golden 
 hair and his velvet collar, was too compel 
 ling, too overpowering. Her adoring love 
 put her at a hopeless disadvantage. "Oh 
 Mr. Feuerstein," she murmured, her color 
 coming and going with the rise and fall of 
 her bosom. 
 
 Mr. Feuerstein majestically removed 
 his hat and turned a look of haughty in 
 quiry upon Otto. Otto's fists clenched 
 he longed to discuss the situation in the 
 only way which seemed to him to meet its 
 requirements. 
 
 "Hilda," said the actor, when he 
 thought there had been a long enough 
 pause for an imposing entrance, "I have 
 come to end the deception to make you, 
 
 44 
 
FORTUNE FAVORS 
 
 before the world, as you are before Al 
 mighty God, my affianced bride." 
 
 "You you mustn't," implored Hilda, 
 her fears getting the better of her awe. 
 "If my parents learn now just now, they 
 will oh, it will be hopeless!" 
 
 "I can not delay, angel of my heart!" 
 He gave her the look that is the theatrical 
 convention for love beyond words. "It 
 must be settled at once. I must know my 
 fate. I must put destiny to the touch and 
 know happiness or hell!" 
 
 "Bah!" thought Otto. "He has to 
 hurry matters he must be in trouble. 
 He's got to raise the wind at once." 
 
 "Mr. Feuerstein Carl!" pleaded Hil 
 da. "Please try to be practical." She went 
 up to him, and Otto turned away, unable 
 to bear the sight of that look of love, ten 
 derness and trust. "You must not at 
 least, not right away." She turned to 
 Otto. "Help me, Otto. Explain to him-" 
 
THE PORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 Heilig tried to put courtesy in his voice 
 as he said to Mr. Feuerstein: "Miss Brau- 
 ner is right. You'll only wreck her her 
 happiness. We're plain people down here 
 and don't understand these fine, grand 
 ways. You must pass as my friend whom 
 I brought here but I make one condi 
 tion." He drew a long breath and looked 
 at Hilda. For the first time she heard 
 him, the real Otto Heilig, speak. "Hilda," 
 he went on, "I don't want to hurt you 
 I'd do anything for you, except hurt you. 
 And I can't stand for this f el for Mr. 
 Feuerstein, unless you'll promise me you 
 won't marry him, no matter what he may 
 say, until your father has had a chance to 
 find out who and what he is." 
 
 Mr. Feuerstein drew himself up grand 
 ly. "Who is this person, Miss Brauner?" 
 he demanded with haughty coldness. 
 
 "He don't know any better," she replied 
 hurriedly. "He's an old friend. Trust me, 
 46 
 
FORTUNE FAVORS 
 
 Mr. Feuer Carl! Everything depends 
 on it." 
 
 "I can not tolerate this coarse hand be 
 tween me and the woman I love. No more 
 deception! Carl Feuerstein" how he did 
 roll out that name! "can guard his own 
 honor and his own destiny." 
 
 The door into the private hall opened 
 and in came Brauner and his wife, fine 
 pictures of homely content triumphing 
 over the discomforts of Sunday clothes. 
 They looked at Mr. Feuerstein with can 
 didly questioning surprise. Avenue A is 
 not afraid to look, and speak, its mind. 
 Otto came forward. "This is Mr. Feuer 
 stein," he said. 
 
 At once Brauner showed that he was 
 satisfied, and Mrs. Brauner beamed. "Oh, 
 a friend of yours," Brauner said, extend 
 ing his hand. "Glad to see any friend of 
 Otto's." 
 
 Mr. Feuerstein advanced impressively 
 47 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 and bowed first over Brauner's hand, then 
 over Mrs. Brauner's. "I am not a friend 
 of this young man," he said with the 
 dignity of a Hoheit. "I have come here to 
 propose for the honor of your daughter's 
 hand in marriage." 
 
 Mr. Feuerstein noted the stupefied ex 
 pression of the delicatessen dealer and his 
 wife, and glanced from Otto to Hilda 
 with a triumphant smile. But Hilda was 
 under no delusion. She shivered and 
 moved nearer to Otto. She felt that he 
 was her hope in this crisis which the mad 
 love of her hero-lover had forced. Brau- 
 ner was the more angry because he had 
 been thus taken by surprise. 
 
 "What nonsense is this?'* he growled, 
 shaking his head violently. "My daughter 
 is engaged to a plain man like ourselves." 
 
 At this Heilig came forward again, 
 pale and sad, but calm. "No, Mr. Brau- 
 ner she is not engaged. I'm sure she 
 
 48 
 
FORTUNE FAVORS 
 
 loves this gentleman, and I want her to be 
 happy. I can not be anything to her but 
 her friend. And I want you to give him a 
 chance to show himself worthy of her." 
 
 Brauner burst out furiously at Hilda. 
 The very presence of this gaudy, useless- 
 looking creature under his roof was an in 
 sult to his three gods of honor and happi 
 ness his "Arbeit und Liebe und Heim." 
 "What does this mean?" he shouted. 
 "Where did you find this crazy fellow? 
 Who brought him here?" 
 
 Hilda flared. "I love him, father! He's 
 a noble, good man. I shall always love 
 him. Listen to Otto it'll break my heart 
 if you frown on my marrying the man I 
 love." There was a touch of Mr. Feuer- 
 stein in her words and tone. 
 
 "Let's have our game, Mr. Brauner," 
 interrupted Otto. "All this can be settled 
 afterward. Why spoil our afternoon?" 
 
 Brauner examined Mr. Feuerstein, who 
 49 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 was posing as a statue of gloomy wrath. 
 "Who are you?" he demanded in the in 
 sulting tone which exactly expressed his 
 state of mind. 
 
 Mr. Feuerstein cast up his eyes. 'Tor 
 Hilda's sake!" he murmured audibly. 
 Then he made a great show of choking 
 down his wrath. "I, sir, am of an ancient 
 Prussian family a gentleman. I saw 
 your peerless daughter, sought an intro 
 duction, careless who or what she was in 
 birth and fortune. Love, the leveler, had 
 conquered me. I " 
 
 "Do you work?" Brauner broke in. 
 "What are your prospects? What have 
 you got? What's your character? Have 
 you any respectable friends who can vouch 
 for you? You've wandered into the wrong 
 part of town. Down here we don't give 
 our daughters to strangers or do-nothings 
 or rascals. We believe in love yes. But 
 we also have a little common sense and 
 
 50 
 
FORTUNE FAVORS 
 
 self-respect." Brauner flung this at Mr. 
 Feuerstein in High-German. Hilda, mor 
 tified and alarmed, was also proud that her 
 father was showing Mr. Feuerstein that 
 she came of people who knew something, 
 even if they were "trades-folk." 
 
 "I can answer all your questions to your 
 satisfaction," replied Mr. Feuerstein loft 
 ily, with a magnanimous wave of his white 
 hand. "My friends will speak for me. 
 And I shall give you the addresses of my 
 noble relatives in Germany, though I 
 greatly fear they will oppose my mar 
 riage. You, sir, were born in the Father 
 land. You know their prejudices." 
 
 "Don't trouble yourself," said Brauner 
 ironically. "Just take yourself off and 
 spare yourself the disgrace of mingling 
 with us plain folk. Hilda, go to your 
 room!" Brauner pointed the stem of his 
 pipe toward the outside door and looked 
 meaningly at Mr. Feuerstein. 
 
 51 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 Hilda, her eyes sparkling and her 
 cheeks flushed, put herself between Mr. 
 Feuerstein and the door. "I guess I've got 
 something to say about that!" she ex 
 claimed. "Father, you can't make me 
 marry Otto Heilig. I hate him. I guess 
 this is a free country. I shall marry Mr. 
 Feuer Carl." She went up to him and 
 put her arm through his and looked up at 
 him lovingly. He drew her to him protect- 
 ingly, and for an instant something of her 
 passionate enthusiasm fired him, or rather, 
 the actor in him. 
 
 Otto laid his hand on Brauner's arm. 
 "Don't you see, sir," he said in Low-Ger 
 man, very earnestly, "that you're driving 
 her to him? I beg you" in a lower tone 
 "for the sake of her future don't drive 
 him out, and her with him. If he really 
 would make her a good husband, why not 
 let her have him? If he's not what he 
 claims, she won't have him." 
 
 52 
 
FORTUNE FAVORS 
 
 Brauner hesitated. "But she's yours. 
 Her mother and I have promised. We are 
 people of our word." 
 
 "But I won't marry her not unless 
 she wishes it, she herself. And nothing 
 can be done until this man has had a 
 chance." 
 
 It was evident from Brauner's face that 
 he was yielding to this common sense. 
 Hilda looked at Otto gratefully. "Thank 
 you, Otto," she said. He shook his head 
 mournfully and turned away. 
 
 Brauner gave Mr. Feuerstein a con 
 temptuous glance. "Perhaps Otto's right," 
 he growled. "You can stay. Let us have 
 our game, Otto. 5> 
 
 Mrs. Brauner hurried to the kitchen to 
 make ready for four-o'clock coffee and 
 cake. Hilda arranged the table for pino 
 chle, and when her father and Otto were 
 seated, motioned her lover to a seat beside 
 her on the sofa. 
 
 58 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 "Heart's bride," he said in a low tone, 
 "I am prostrated by what I have borne 
 for your sake." 
 
 "I love you," she said softly, her young 
 eyes shining like Titania's when she was 
 garlanding her ass-headed lover. "You 
 were right, my beloved. We shall win 
 father is giving in. He's very good-na 
 tured, and now he's used to the idea of 
 our love." 
 
 Otto lost the game, and, with his cus 
 tomary patience, submitted to the cus 
 tomary lecture on his stupidity as a 
 player. Brauner was once more in a good 
 humor. Having agreed to tolerate Mr. 
 Feuerstein, he was already taking a less 
 unfavorable view of him. And Mr. Feuer 
 stein laid himself out to win the owner of 
 three tenements. He talked German poli 
 tics with him in High-German, and ap 
 plauded his accent and his opinions. He 
 told stories of the old German Emperor 
 
 54 
 
FORTUNE FAVORS 
 
 and Bismarck, and finally discovered that 
 Brauner was an ardent admirer of Schil 
 ler. He saw a chance to make a double 
 stroke to please Brauner and to feed his 
 own vanity. 
 
 "With your permission, sir," he said, "I 
 will give a soliloquy from Wallenstein" 
 
 Brauner went to the door leading down 
 the private hall. "Mother!" he called. 
 "Come at once. Mr. Feuerstein's going to 
 act." 
 
 Hilda was bubbling over with delight. 
 Otto sat forgotten in the corner. Mrs. 
 Brauner came bustling, her face rosy from 
 the kitchen fire and her hands moist from 
 a hasty washing. Mr. Feuerstein waited 
 until all were seated in front of him. He 
 then rose and advanced with stately tread 
 toward the clear space. He rumpled his 
 hair, drew down his brows, folded his 
 arms, and began a melancholy, princely 
 pacing of the floor. With a suddenness 
 
 55 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 that made them start, he burst out thun 
 derously. He strode, he roared, he rolled 
 his eyes, he waved his arms, he tore at his 
 hair. It was Wallenstein in a soul-sweat. 
 The floor creaked, the walls echoed. His 
 ingenuous auditors, except Otto, listened 
 and looked with bated breath. They were 
 as vastly impressed as is a drawing-room 
 full of culture-hunters farther up town 
 when a man discourses to them on a sub 
 ject of which he knows just enough for a 
 wordy befuddling of their ignorance. 
 And the burst of applause which greeted 
 the last bellowing groan was full as 
 hearty as that which greets the bad sing 
 ing or worse playing at the average mu- 
 sicale. 
 
 Swollen with vanity and streaming with 
 sweat, Mr. Feuerstein sat down. "Good, 
 Mr. Feuerstein ah! it is grand!" said 
 Brauner. Hilda looked at her lover proud 
 ly. Otto felt that the recitation was idi- 
 56 
 
FORTUNE FAVORS 
 
 otic "Nobody ever carried on like that," 
 he said to himself. But he also felt the 
 pitiful truth, "I haven't got a ghost of a 
 chance." 
 
 He rose as soon as he could muster the 
 courage. "I must get back and help 
 Schwartz open up," he said, looking round 
 forlornly. "It's five o'clock." 
 
 "You must stay to coffee," insisted 
 Mrs. Brauner. It should have been served 
 before, but Mr. Feuerstein's exhibition 
 had delayed it. 
 
 "No I must work," he replied. "It's 
 five o'clock." 
 
 "That's right," said Brauner with an 
 approving nod. "Business first! I must 
 go in myself and you, too, Hilda." The 
 late Sunday afternoon opening was for a 
 very important trade. 
 
 Hilda blushed the descent from the 
 romantic to the practical jarred upon her. 
 But Mr. Feuerstein rose and took leave 
 57 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 most graciously. "May I return this even 
 ing?" he said to Brauner. 
 
 "Always glad to see our friends," an 
 swered Brauner with a shamefaced, apol 
 ogetic look at Otto. 
 
 At seven o'clock that evening Otto, just 
 closing his shop, saw Mr. Feuerstein and 
 Hilda pass on their way toward Tompkins 
 Square. A few minutes later Sophie came 
 along. She paused and tried to draw him 
 into conversation. But he answered briefly 
 and absently, gradually retreating into the 
 darkness of his shop and pointedly draw 
 ing the door between him and her. Sophie 
 went on her way downcast, but not in the 
 least disheartened. "When Hilda is Mrs. 
 Feuerstein," she said to herself. 
 
 58 
 
IV 
 
 A BOLD DASH AND A DISASTER 
 
 Mr. Feuerstein's evening was even more 
 successful than his afternoon. Brauner 
 was still grumbling. Mr. Feuerstein could 
 not possibly be adjusted in his mind to his 
 beloved ideals, his religion of life "Ar 
 beit und Liebe und Heim" Still he was 
 yielding and Hilda saw the signs of it. 
 She knew he was practically won over and 
 was secretly inclined to be proud that his 
 daughter had made this exalted conquest. 
 All men regard that which they do not 
 know either with extravagant awe or with 
 extravagant contempt. While Brauner 
 had the universal human failing for at 
 taching too much importance to the de 
 partment of human knowledge in which 
 he was thoroughly at home, he had the 
 59 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 American admiration for learning, for 
 literature, and instead of spelling them 
 with a very small "1," as "practical" men 
 sometimes do with age and increasing 
 vanity, he spelled them with huge capi 
 tals, erecting them into a position out of 
 all proportion to their relative importance 
 in the life of the human animal. 
 
 Mr. Feuerstein had just enough know 
 ledge to enable him to play upon this 
 weakness, this universal human suscepti 
 bility to the poison of pretense. All doubt 
 of success fled his mind, and he was free to 
 indulge his vanity and his contempt for 
 these simple, unpretending people. "So 
 vulgar!" he said to himself, as he left their 
 house that night he who knew how to do 
 nothing of use or value. "It is a great con 
 descension for me. Working people 
 ugh!" 
 
 As he strolled up town he was spending 
 in fancy the income from at least two, per- 
 60 
 
A BOLD DASH AND A DISASTER 
 
 haps all three, flat-houses "The shop's 
 enough for the old people and that dumb 
 ass of a brother. I'll elevate the family. 
 Yes, I think I'll run away with Hilda to 
 morrow that's the safest plan." 
 
 Otto had guessed close to the truth 
 about Feuerstein's affairs. They were in 
 a desperate tangle. He had been dis 
 charged from the stock company on Sat 
 urday night. He was worthless as an 
 actor, and had the hostility of the manage 
 ment and of his associates. His landlady 
 had got the news promptly from a boarder 
 who paid in part by acting as a sort of 
 mercantile agency for her in watching her 
 very uncertain boarders. She had given 
 him a week's notice, and had so arranged 
 matters that if he fled he could not take his 
 meager baggage. He was down to eighty- 
 five cents of a borrowed dollar. He owed 
 money everywhere in sums ranging from 
 five dollars to twenty-five cents. The most 
 61 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 of these debts were in the form of half- 
 dollar borrowings. He had begun his New 
 York career with loans of "five dollars un 
 til Thursday I'm a little pressed." Soon 
 it became impossible for him to get more 
 than a dollar at a time even from the wom 
 en, except an occasional windfall through 
 a weak or ignorant new acquaintance. He 
 clung tenaciously to the fifty-cent basis 
 to go lower would cheapen him. But for 
 the last two weeks his regular levies had 
 been of twenty-five cents, with not a few 
 descents to ten and even five cents. 
 
 He reached Goerwitz's at ten o'clock 
 and promenaded slowly through both 
 rooms twice. Just as he was leaving he 
 espied an acquaintance who was looking 
 fiercely away from him as if saying: "I 
 don't see you, and, damn you, don't you 
 dare see me!" But Feuerstein advanced 
 boldly. Twelve years of active member 
 ship in that band of "beats" which patrols 
 62 
 
A BOLD DASH AND A DISASTER 
 
 every highway and byway and private 
 way of civilization had thickened and 
 toughened his skin into a hide. "Good 
 evening, Albers," he said cordially, with 
 a wave of the soft, light hat. "I see you 
 have a vacant place in your little circle. 
 Thank you!" He assumed that Albers had 
 invited him, took a chair from another 
 table and seated himself. Social courage 
 is one of the rarest forms of courage. Al 
 bers grew red but did not dare insult such 
 a fine-looking fellow who seemed so hearty 
 and friendly. He surlily introduced Feu- 
 erstein to his friends two women and two 
 men. Feuerstein ordered a round of beer 
 with the air of a prince and without the 
 slightest intention of paying for it. 
 
 The young woman of the party was 
 seated next to him. Even before he sat 
 he recognized her as the daughter of 
 Ganser, a rich brewer of the upper East 
 Side. He had placed himself deliberately 
 63 
 
.THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 beside her, and he at once began advances. 
 She showed at a glance that she was a 
 silly, vain girl. Her face was fat and dull ; 
 she had thin, stringy hair. She was flabby 
 and, in the lazy life to which the Gansers' 
 wealth and the silly customs of prosperous 
 people condemned her, was already begin 
 ning to expand in the places where she 
 could least afford it. 
 
 He made amorous eyes at her. He 
 laughed enthusiastically at her foolish 
 speeches. He addressed his pompous plat 
 itudes exclusively to her. Within an hour 
 he pressed her hand under the table and 
 sighed dramatically. When she looked at 
 him he started and rolled his great eyes 
 dreamily away. Never before had she re 
 ceived attentions that were not of the 
 frankest and crudest practical nature. She 
 was all in a flutter at having thus unex 
 pectedly come upon appreciation of the 
 beauties and merits her mirror told her she 
 
A BOLD DASH AND A DISASTER 
 
 possessed. When Mrs. Schoenberg, her 
 aunt, rose to go, she gave Feuerstein a 
 chance to say in a low aside: "My queen! 
 To-morrow at eleven at Blooming- 
 dale's." Her blush and smile told him she 
 would be there. 
 
 All left except Feuerstein and a youth 
 he had been watching out of the corner of 
 his eyes young Dippel, son of the rich 
 drug-store man. Feuerstein saw that Dip- 
 pel was on the verge of collapse from too 
 much drink. As he still had his eighty-five 
 cents, he pressed Dippel to drink and, by 
 paying, induced him to add four glasses 
 of beer to his already top-heavy burden. 
 
 "Mus' go home," said Dippel at last, ris 
 ing abruptly. 
 
 Feuerstein walked with him, taking his 
 arm to steady him. "Let's have one more," 
 he said, drawing him into a saloon, gently 
 pushing him to a seat at a table and order 
 ing whisky. After the third large drink, 
 65 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 Dippel became helpless and maudlin and 
 began to overflow with generous senti 
 ments. "I love you, Finkelstern, ol' man," 
 he declared tearfully. "They say you're a 
 dead beat, but wha' d'l care?" 
 
 "Finkelstern," affecting drunkenness, 
 shed tears on Dippel's shoulder, denied 
 that he was a "beat" and swore that he 
 loved Dippel like a brother. "You're my 
 f rien'," he said. "I know you'd trust me to 
 any amount.'* 
 
 Dippel took from his trousers pocket a 
 roll of bills several inches thick. Feuer- 
 stein thrilled and his eyes grew eloquent as 
 he noted tens and twenties and at least one 
 fifty. Slowly, and with exaggerated care, 
 Dippel drew off* a ten. "There y'are, ol' 
 dead beat," he said. "I'll stake you a ten. 
 Lots more where that came from soda- 
 fountain counter's reg'lar gol' mine." 
 
 In taking off the ten, he dropped a 
 twenty. It fluttered to the floor and the 
 66 
 
A BOLD DASH AND A DISASTER 
 
 soldier of fortune, the scorner of toil and 
 toilers, slid his foot over it as swiftly and 
 naturally as a true aristocrat always covers 
 an opportunity to get something some 
 body else has earned. He put the ten in his 
 pocket; when Dippel's eyes closed he 
 stooped and retrieved the twenty with 
 stealth and skill. When the twenty was 
 hidden, and the small but typical opera 
 tion in high finance was complete, he 
 shook Dippel. "I say, old man," he said, 
 "hadn't you better let me keep your money 
 for you? I'm afraid you'll lose it." 
 
 Dippel slowly unclosed one eye and 
 gave him a look of glassy cunning. He 
 again drew the roll from his pocket, and, 
 clasping it tightly in his fist, waved it un 
 der Feuerstein's nose. As he did it, he 
 vented a drunken chuckle. "Soda foun 
 tain's gol' mine, Fishenspiel," he said 
 thickly. "No, you don't! I can watch my 
 own roll." He winked and chuckled. 
 67 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 "Sorry to disappoint you, Fishy," he went 
 on, with a leer. Then he took off another 
 ten and handed it to Feuerstein. "Good 
 f el', Fishy," he mumbled, " 'f y' are a 
 dead beat." 
 
 Feuerstein added the ten to the thirty 
 and ordered more whisky. Dippel tried to 
 doze, but he would not permit it. "He 
 mustn't sleep any of it off," he thought. 
 
 When the whisky came Dippel shook 
 himself together and started up. "G'- 
 night," he said, trying to stand, look and 
 talk straight. "Don't f 'rget, y'owe me ten 
 dollarses no, two ten dollarses." 
 
 "Oh, sit down," coaxed Feuerstein, tak 
 ing him by the arm. "It's early yet." 
 
 Dippel shook him off with much dig 
 nity. "Don' touch me!" he growled. "I 
 know what I'm 'bout. I'm goin' home." 
 Then to himself, but aloud: "Dippy, 
 you're too full f 'r utterance you mus' 
 shake this beat." Again to Feuerstein: 
 68 
 
A BOLD DASH AND A DISASTER 
 
 "G'night, Mr. Funkelshineg night. Sit 
 there till I'm gone." 
 
 Feuerstein rose to follow and Dippel 
 struck at him. The waiter seized each by 
 the shoulder and flung them through the 
 swinging doors. Dippel fell in a heap 
 on the sidewalk, but Feuerstein succeeded 
 in keeping to his feet. He went to the as 
 sistance of Dippel. 
 
 "Don't touch me," shouted Dippel. 
 "Police! Police!" 
 
 Feuerstein looked fearfully round, 
 gave Dippel a kick and hurried away. 
 When he glanced back from a safe dis 
 tance Dippel was waving to and fro on 
 his wobbling legs, talking to a cabman. 
 "Close-fisted devil," muttered Feuerstein. 
 "He couldn't forget his money even when 
 he was drunk. What good is money to a 
 brute like him?" And he gave a sniff of 
 contempt for the vulgarity and meanness 
 of Dippel and his kind. 
 69 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 Early the next morning he established 
 a modus Vivendi with his landlady by giv 
 ing her ten dollars on account. He had an 
 elaborate breakfast at Terrace Garden 
 and went to Bloomingdale's, arriving at 
 eleven precisely. Lena Ganser was al 
 ready there, pretending to shop at a coun 
 ter in full view of the appointed place. 
 They went to Terrace Garden and sat in 
 the Stube. He at once opened up his sud 
 den romantic passion. "All night I have 
 walked the streets," he said, "dreaming 
 of you." When he had fully informed 
 her of the state of his love-maddened mind 
 toward her, he went on to his most con 
 genial topic himself. 
 
 "You have heard of the Freiherr von 
 Feuerstein, the great soldier?" he asked 
 her. 
 
 Lena had never heard of him. But she 
 did not know who was German Emperor 
 or even who was President of the United 
 70 
 
A BOLD DASH AND A DISASTER 
 
 States. She, therefore, had to be extreme 
 ly cautious. She nodded assent. 
 
 "My uncle," said Feuerstein impressive 
 ly. His eyes became reflective. "Strange!" 
 he exclaimed in tender accents, soliloquiz 
 ing "strange where romance will lead us. 
 Instead of remaining at home, in ease and 
 luxury, here am I an actor a wanderer 
 * roaming the earth in search of the heart 
 that Heaven intended should be wedded to 
 mine." He fixed his gaze upon Lena's fat 
 face with the expression that had made 
 Hilda's soul fall down and worship. 
 "And I have found it!" He drew in and 
 expelled a vast breath. "At last! My soul 
 is at rest.' 5 
 
 Lena tried to look serious in imitation 
 of him, but that was not her way of ex 
 pressing emotion. She made a brief strug 
 gle, then collapsed into her own mode a 
 vain, delighted, giggling laugh. 
 
 " t Why do you smile?" he asked sternly. 
 71 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 He revolted from this discord to his sym 
 phony. 
 
 She sobered with a frightened, depre 
 cating look. "Don't mind me," she plead 
 ed. "Pa says I'm a fool. I was laughing 
 because I'm happy. You're such a sweet, 
 romantic dream of a man." 
 
 Feuerstein was not particular either as 
 to the quality or as to the source of his 
 vanity- food. He accepted Lena's offering 
 with a condescending nod and smile. They 
 talked, or, rather, he talked and she lis 
 tened and giggled until lunch time. As 
 the room began to fill, they left and he 
 walked home with her. 
 
 "You can come in," she said. "Pa won't 
 be home to lunch to-day and ma lets me do 
 as I please." 
 
 The Gansers lived in East Eighty-first 
 Street, in the regulation twenty-five-foot 
 brownstone house. And within, also, it 
 was of a familiar New York type. It was 
 
 72 
 
A BOLD DASH AND A DISASTER 
 
 the home of the rich, vain ignoramus who 
 has not taste enough to know that those 
 to whom he has trusted for taste have 
 shockingly betrayed him. Ganser had be 
 gun as a teamster for a brewery and had 
 grown rapidly rich late in life. He hap 
 pened to be elected president of a big 
 Verein and so had got the notion that he 
 was a person of importance and attain 
 ments beyond his fellows. Too coarse and 
 narrow and ignorant to appreciate the ele 
 vated ideals of democracy, he reverted to 
 the European vulgarities of rank and 
 show. He decided that he owed it to him 
 self and his family to.live in the estate of 
 "high folks." He bought a house in what 
 was for him an ultra-fashionable quarter, 
 and called for bids to furnish it in the 
 latest style. The results were even more 
 regardless of taste than of expense car 
 pets that fought with curtains, pictures 
 that quarreled with their frames and with 
 73 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 the walls, upholstery so bellicose that it 
 seemed perilous to sit upon. 
 
 But Feuerstein was as impressed as the 
 Gansers had been the first time they be 
 held the gorgeousness of their palace. He 
 looked about with a proprietary sense 
 "I'll marry this little idiot," he said to 
 himself. "Maybe my nest won't be downy, 
 and maybe I won't lie at my ease in iti" 
 
 He met Mrs. Ganser and had the op 
 portunity to see just what Lena would 
 look and be twenty years thence. Mrs. 
 Ganser moved with great reluctance and 
 difficulty. She did not speak unless forced 
 and then her voice seemed to have felt its 
 way up feebly through a long and pain 
 fully narrow passage, emerging thin, low 
 and fainting. When she sat or, rather, 
 as she sat, for she was always sitting her 
 mountain of soft flesh seemed to be slowly 
 collapsing upon and around the chair like 
 a lump of dough on a mold. Her only in- 
 74 
 
A BOLD DASH AND A DISASTER 
 
 terest in life was disclosed when she was 
 settled and settling at the luncheon table. 
 She used her knife more than her fork and 
 her fingers more than either. Feuerstein 
 left soon after luncheon, lingering only 
 long enough to give Lena a theatrical em 
 brace. "Well, I'll not spend much time 
 with those women, once I'm married," he 
 reflected as he went down the steps ; and he 
 thought of Hilda and sighed. 
 
 The next day but one he met Lena in 
 the edge of the park and, after gloomy 
 silence, shot with strange piercing looks 
 that made her feel as if she were the hero 
 ine of a book, he burst forth with a de 
 mand for immediate marriage. 
 
 "Forty-eight hours of torment!" he 
 cried. "I shall not leave you again until 
 you are securely mine." 
 
 He proceeded to drop vague, adroit 
 hints of the perils that beset a fascinating 
 75 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 actor's life, of the women that had come 
 and gone in his life. And Lena, all 
 a-tremble with jealous anxiety, was in the 
 parlor of a Lutheran parsonage, with the 
 minister reading out of the black book, be 
 fore she was quite aware that she and her 
 cyclonic adorer were not still promenading 
 near the green-house in the park. "Now," 
 said Feuerstein briskly, as they were once 
 more in the open air, "we'll go to your 
 father." 
 
 "Goodness gracious, no," protested Le 
 na. "You don't know him he'll be crazy 
 just crazy! We must wait till he finds 
 out about you then he'll be very proud. 
 He wanted a son-in-law of high social 
 standing a gentleman." 
 
 "We will go home, I tell you," replied 
 Feuerstein firmly his tone was now the 
 tone of the master. All the sentiment was 
 out of it and all the hardness in it. 
 
 Lena felt the change without under- 
 76 
 
A BOLD DASH AND A DISASTER 
 
 standing it. "I bet you, pa'll make you 
 wish you'd taken my advice," she said sul 
 lenly. 
 
 But Feuerstein led her home. They 
 went up stairs where Mrs. Ganser was 
 seated, looking stupidly at a new bonnet 
 as she turned it slowly round on one of 
 her cushion-like hands. Feuerstein went to 
 her and kissed her on the hang of her 
 cheek. "Mother!" he said in a deep, mov 
 ing voice. 
 
 Mrs. Ganser blinked and looked help 
 lessly at Lena. 
 
 "I'm married, ma," explained Lena. 
 "It's Mr. Feuerstein." And she gave her 
 silly laugh. 
 
 Mrs. Ganser grew slowly pale. "Your 
 father," she at last succeeded in articulat 
 ing. "Ach!" She lifted her arm, thick as 
 a piano leg, and resumed the study of her 
 new bonnet. 
 
 "Won't you welcome me, mother?" 
 77 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 asked Feuerstein, his tone and attitude 
 dignified appeal. 
 
 Mrs. Ganser shook her huge head 
 vaguely. "See Peter," was all she said. 
 
 They went down stairs and waited, Le 
 na silent, Feuerstein pacing the room and 
 rehearsing, now aloud, now to himself, the 
 scene he would enact with his father-in- 
 law. Peter was in a frightful humor that 
 evening. His only boy, who spent his 
 mornings in sleep, his afternoons in speed 
 ing horses and his evenings in carousal, 
 had come down upon him for ten thousand 
 dollars to settle a gambling debt. Peter 
 was willing that his son should be a gen 
 tleman and should conduct himself like 
 one. But he had worked too hard for his 
 money not to wince as a plain man at what 
 he endured and even courted as a seeker 
 after position for the house of Ganser. 
 He had hoped to be free to vent his ill- 
 humor at home. He was therefore irri- 
 78 
 
A BOLD DASH AND A DISASTER 
 
 tated by the discovery that an outsider was 
 there to check him. As he came in he gave 
 Feuerstein a look which said plainly: 
 "And who are you, and how long are you 
 going to intrude yourself?" 
 
 But Feuerstein, absorbed in the role he 
 had so carefully thought out, did not note 
 his unconscious father-in-law's face. He 
 extended both his hands and advanced 
 grandly upon fat, round Peter. "My fa 
 ther!" he exclaimed in his classic German. 
 "Forgive my unseemly haste in plucking 
 without your permission the beautiful 
 flower I found within reach." 
 
 Peter stepped back and gave a hoarse 
 grunt of astonishment. His red face be 
 came redder as he glared, first at Feuer 
 stein, then at Lena. "What lunatic is this 
 you've got here, daughter?" he demanded. 
 
 "My father!" repeated Feuerstein, 
 drawing Lena to him. 
 
 Ganser's mouth opened and shut slowly 
 79 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 several times and his whiskers bristled. 
 "Is this fellow telling the truth?" he asked 
 Lena in a tone that made her shiver and 
 shrink away from her husband. 
 
 She began to cry. "He made me do it, 
 pa," she whined. "I I" 
 
 "Go to your mother," shouted Ganser, 
 pointing his pudgy finger tremulously to 
 ward the door. "Move!" 
 
 Lena, drying her eyes with her sleeve, 
 fled. Feuerstein became a sickly white. 
 When she had disappeared, Ganser looked 
 at him with cruel little eyes that sparkled. 
 Feuerstein quailed. It was full half a 
 minute before Ganser spoke. Then he 
 went up to Feuerstein, stood on tiptoe 
 and, waving his arms frantically above his 
 head, yelled into his face "Rindsvieli!" 
 as contemptuous an insult as one German 
 can fling at another. 
 
 "She is my lawful wife," said Feuer 
 stein with an attempt at his pose. 
 30 
 
A BOLD DASH AND A DISASTER 
 
 "Get the house aus quick! aus! 
 gleich! Lump! I call the police!" 
 
 "I demand my wife!" exclaimed Feuer- 
 stein. 
 
 Ganser ran to the front door and opened 
 it. "Out!" he shrieked. "If you don't, I 
 have you taken in when the police come the 
 block down. This is my house! Rinds- 
 viehr 
 
 Feuerstein caught up his soft hat from 
 the hall table and hurried out. As he 
 passed, Ganser tried to kick him but failed 
 ludicrously because his short, thick leg 
 would not reach. At the bottom of the 
 steps Feuerstein turned and waved his 
 fists wildly. Ganser waved his fists at 
 Feuerstein and, shaking his head so vio 
 lently that his hanging cheeks flapped 
 back and forth, bellowed : 
 
 "Rindsvieh! Dreck!" 
 
 Then he rushed in and slammed the 
 door. 
 
 81 
 
A SENSITIVE SOUL SEEKS SALVE 
 
 As Mr. Feuerstein left Hilda on the 
 previous Sunday night he promised to 
 meet her in Tompkins Square the next 
 evening at the band concert. She walked 
 up and down with Sophie, her spirits grad 
 ually sinking after half -past eight and a 
 feeling of impending misfortune settling 
 in close. She was not conscious of the mu 
 sic, though the second part of the program 
 contained the selections from Wagner 
 which she loved best. She feverishly 
 searched the crowd and the half -darkness 
 beyond. She imagined that every ap 
 proaching tall man was her lover. With 
 the frankness to which she had been bred 
 she made no concealment of her heart-sick 
 
 anxiety. 
 
 82 
 
A SOUL SEEKS SALVE 
 
 "He may have to be at the theater," 
 said Sophie, herself extremely uneasy. 
 Partly through shrewdness, partly 
 through her natural suspicion of stran 
 gers, she felt that Mr. Feuerstein, upon 
 whom she was building, was not a rock. 
 
 "No," replied Hilda. "He told me he 
 wouldn't be at the theater, but would sure 
 ly come here." The fact that her lover 
 had said so settled it to her mind. 
 
 They did not leave the Square until ten 
 o'clock, when it was almost deserted and 
 most of its throngs of an hour before 
 were in bed sleeping soundly in the con 
 tent that comes from a life of labor. And 
 when she did get to bed she lay awake for 
 nearly an hour, tired though she was. 
 Without doubt some misfortune had be 
 fallen him "He's been hurt or is ill," she 
 decided. The next morning she stood in 
 the door of the shop watching for the post 
 man on his first round; as he turned the 
 
 83 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 corner of Second Street, she could not re 
 strain herself, but ran to meet him. 
 
 "Any letter for me?" she inquired in a 
 voice that compelled him to feel personal 
 guilt in having to say "No." 
 
 It was a day of mistakes in weights 
 and in making up packages, a day of vain 
 searching for some comforting explana 
 tion of Mr. Feuerstein's failure and si 
 lence. After supper Sophie came and they 
 went to the Square, keeping to the center 
 of it where the lights were brightest and 
 the people fewest. 
 
 "I'm sure something's happened," said 
 Sophie. "Maybe Otto has told him a story 
 or has " 
 
 "No not Otto." Hilda dismissed the 
 suggestion as impossible. She had known 
 Otto too long and too well to entertain for 
 an instant the idea that he could be un 
 derhanded. "There's only one reason 
 he's sick, very sick too sick to send word." 
 
 84 
 
A SOUL SEEKS SALVE 
 
 "Let's go and see," said Sophie, as if 
 she had not planned it hours before. 
 
 Hilda hesitated. "It might look as if 
 I" She did not finish. 
 
 "But you needn't show yourself," re 
 plied Sophie. "You can wait down the 
 street and I'll go up to the door and won't 
 give my name." 
 
 Hilda clasped her arm more tightly 
 about Sophie's waist and they set out. 
 They walked more and more swiftly until 
 toward the last they were almost running. 
 At the corner of Fifteenth Street and 
 First Avenue Hilda stopped. "I'll go 
 through to Stuyvesant Square," she said, 
 "and wait there on a bench near the Six 
 teenth Street entrance. You'll be quick, 
 won't you?" 
 
 Sophie went to Mr. Feuerstein's num 
 ber and rang. After a long wait a sloven 
 ly girl in a stained red wrapper, her hair 
 in curl-papers and one stocking down 
 85 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 about her high-heeled slipper, opened the 
 door and said: "What do you want? I 
 sent the maid for a pitcher of beer." 
 
 "I want to ask about Mr. Feuerstein," 
 replied Sophie. 
 
 The girl's pert, prematurely-wrinkled 
 face took on a quizzical smile. "Oh!" she 
 said. "You can go up to his room. Third 
 floor, back. Knock hard he's a heavy 
 sleeper." 
 
 Sophie climbed the stairs and knocked 
 loudly. "Come!" was the answer in Ger 
 man, in Mr. Feuerstein's deep stage-voice. 
 
 She opened the door a few inches and 
 said through the crack: "It's me, Mr. 
 Feuerstein Sophie Liebers from down 
 in Avenue A Hilda's friend." 
 
 "Come in," was Mr. Feuerstein's reply, 
 in a weary voice, after a pause. From 
 Ganser's he had come straight home and 
 had been sitting there ever since, de 
 pressed, angry, perplexed. 
 86 
 
A SOUL SEEKS SALVE 
 
 Sophie pushed the door wide and stood 
 upon the threshold. "Hilda's over in 
 Stuyvesant Square," she said. "She 
 thought you might be sick, so we came. 
 But if you go to her, you must pretend 
 you came by accident and didn't see me." 
 
 Mr. Feuerstein reflected, but not so 
 deeply that he neglected to pose before 
 Sophie as a tragedy-king. And it called 
 for little pretense, so desperate and for 
 lorn was he feeling. Should he go or 
 should he send Sophie about her business? 
 There was no hope that the rich brewer 
 would take him in; there was every reason 
 to suspect that Peter would arrange to 
 have the marriage quietly annulled. At 
 most he could get a few thousands, per 
 haps only hundreds, by threatening a scan 
 dal. Yes, it would be wise, on the whole, 
 to keep little Hilda on the string. 
 
 "I am very ill," he said gloomily, "but 
 I will go." 
 
 87 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 Sophie felt hopeful and energetic 
 again. "I won't come up to her till you 
 leave her." 
 
 "You are a good girl a noble crea 
 ture." Mr. Feuerstein took her hand and 
 pretended to be profoundly moved by her 
 friendship. 
 
 Sophie gave him a look of simplicity 
 and warm-heartedness. Her talent for 
 acting had not been spoiled by a stage ex 
 perience. "Hilda's my friend," she said 
 earnestly. "And I want to see her happy." 
 "Noble creature 1" exclaimed Mr. Feuer 
 stein. "May God reward you!" And he 
 dashed his hand across his eyes. 
 
 He went to the mirror on his bureau, 
 carefully arranged the yellow aureole, 
 carefully adjusted the soft light hat. 
 Then with feeble step he descended the 
 stairs. As he moved down the street his 
 face was mournful and his shoulders were 
 drooped a stage invalid. When Hilda 
 
 88 
 
A SOUL SEEKS SALVE 
 
 saw him coming she started up and gave 
 a little cry of delight ; but as she noted his 
 woebegone appearance, a very real pale 
 ness came to her cheeks and very real tears 
 to her great dark eyes. 
 
 Mr. Feuerstein sank slowly into the seat 
 beside her. "Soul's wife," he murmured. 
 "Ah but I have been near to death. The 
 strain of the interview with your father 
 the anguish the hope oh, what a curse 
 it is to have a sensitive soul! And my old 
 trouble" he laid his hand upon his heart 
 and slowly shook his head "returned. It 
 will end me some day." 
 
 Hilda was trembling with sympathy. 
 She put her hand upon his. "If you had 
 only sent word, dear," she said reproach 
 fully, "I would have come. Oh I do 
 love you so, Carl! I could hardly eat or 
 sleep and " 
 
 "The truth would have been worse than 
 silence," he said in a hollow voice. He did 
 89 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 not intend the double meaning of his re 
 mark; the Gansers were for the moment 
 out of his mind, which was absorbed in his 
 acting. "But it is over for the present 
 yes, over, my priceless pearl. I can come 
 to see you soon. If I am worse I shall send 
 you word." 
 
 "But can't I come to see you?" 
 "No, bride of my dreams._It would not 
 be suitable. We must respect the little 
 conventions. You must wait until I 
 
 come." 
 
 His tone was decided. She felt that he 
 knew best. In a few minutes he rose. "I 
 must return to my room," he said wearily. 
 "Ah, heart's delight, it is terrible for a 
 strong man to find himself thus weak. 
 Pity me. Pray for me." 
 
 He noted with satisfaction her look of 
 
 love and anxiety. It was some slight 
 
 salve to his cruelly wounded vanity. He 
 
 walked feebly away, but it was pure act- 
 
 90 
 
A SOUL SEEKS SALVE 
 
 ing, as he no longer felt so downcast. He 
 had soon put Hilda into the background 
 and was busy with his plans for revenge 
 upon Ganser "a vulgar animal who in 
 sulted me when I honored him by marry 
 ing his ugly gosling." Before he fell 
 asleep that night he had himself wrought 
 up to a state of righteous indignation. 
 Ganser had cheated, had outraged him 
 him, the great, the noble, the eminent. 
 
 Early the next morning he went down 
 to a dingy frame building that cowered 
 meanly in the shadow of the Criminal 
 Court House. He mounted a creaking 
 flight of stairs and went in at a low door 
 on which "Loeb, Lynn, Levy and Mc- 
 Cafferty" was painted in black letters. In 
 the narrow entrance he brushed against 
 a man on the way out, a man with a hang 
 dog look and short bristling hair and the 
 pastily-pallid skin that comes from living 
 91 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTE& 
 
 long away from the sunlight. Feuerstein 
 shivered slightly was it at the touch of 
 such a creature or at the suggestions his 
 appearance started? In front of him was 
 a ground-glass partition with five doors in 
 it. At a dirty greasy pine table sat a 
 boy one of those child veterans the big 
 city develops. He had a long and extreme 
 ly narrow head. His eyes were close to 
 gether, sharp and shifty. His expression 
 was sophisticated and cynical. "Well, 
 sir!" he said with curt impudence, giving 
 Feuerstein a gimlet-glance. 
 
 "I want to see Mr. Loeb." Feuerstein 
 produced a card it was one of his last re 
 maining half-dozen and was pocket-worn. 
 
 The office boy took it with unveiled sar 
 casm in his eyes and in the corners of his 
 mouth. He disappeared through one of 
 the five doors, almost immediately reap 
 peared at another, closed it mysteriously 
 behind him and went to a third door. He 
 92 
 
A SOUL SEEKS SALVE 
 
 threw it open and stood aside. "At the 
 end of the hall," he said. "The door with 
 Mr. Loeb's name on it. Knock and walk 
 right in." 
 
 Feuerstein followed the directions and 
 found himself in a dingy little room, 
 smelling of mustiness and stale tobacco, 
 and lined with law books, almost all on 
 crime and divorce. Loeb, Lynn, Levy and 
 McCafferty were lawyers to the lower 
 grades of the criminal and shady only. 
 They defended thieves and murderers; 
 they prosecuted or defended scandalous 
 divorce cases; they packed juries and 
 suborned perjury and they tutored false 
 witnesses in the way to withstand cross- 
 examination. In private life they were 
 four home-loving, law-abiding citizens. 
 
 Loeb looked up from his writing and 
 said with contemptuous cordiality: "Oh 
 Mr. Feuerstein. Glad to see you 
 again. What's the trouble now?" 
 93 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 At "again" and "now" Feuerstein 
 winced slightly. He looked nervously at 
 Loeb. 
 
 "It's been let me see at least seven 
 years since I saw you," continued Loeb, 
 who was proud of his amazing memory. 
 He was a squat, fat man, with a coarse 
 brown skin and heavy features. He was 
 carefully groomed and villainously per 
 fumed and his clothes were in the extreme 
 of the loudest fashion. A diamond of 
 great size was in his bright-blue scarf; 
 another, its match, loaded down his fat lit 
 tle finger. Both could be unscrewed and 
 set in a hair ornament which his wife wore 
 at first nights or when they dined in state 
 at Delmonico's. As he studied Feuerstein, 
 his face had its famous smile, made by 
 shutting his teeth together and drawing 
 his puffy lips back tightly from them. 
 
 "That is all past and gone," said Feuer 
 stein. "As a lad I was saved by you from 
 
A SOUL SEEKS SALVE 
 
 the consequences of boyish folly. And 
 now, a man grown, I come to you to enlist 
 your aid in avenging an insult to my 
 honor, an " 
 
 "Be as brief as possible," cut in Loeb. 
 "My time is much occupied. The bald 
 facts, please facts, and bald." 
 
 Feuerstein settled himself and prepared 
 to relate his story as if he were on the 
 stage, with the orchestra playing low and 
 sweet. "I met a woman and loved her," 
 he began in a deep, intense voice with a 
 passionate tremolo. 
 
 "A bad start," interrupted Loeb. "If 
 you go on that way, we'll never get any 
 where. You're a frightful fakir and liar, 
 Feuerstein. You were, seven years ago; 
 of course, the habit's grown on you. 
 Speak out! What do you want? As your 
 lawyer, I must know things exactly as 
 they are." 
 
 "I ran away with a girl the daughter 
 95 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 of the brewer, Peter Ganser," said Feuer- 
 stein, sullen but terse. "And her father 
 wouldn't receive me shut her up put 
 me out." 
 
 "And you want your wife?" 
 
 "I want revenge." 
 
 "Of course cash. Well, Ganser's a 
 rich man. I should say he'd give up a good 
 deal to get rid of you." Loeb gave that 
 mirthless and mirth-strangling smile as he 
 accented the "you." 
 
 "He's got to give up!" said Feuerstein 
 fiercely. 
 
 "Slowly! Slowly!" Loeb leaned for 
 ward and looked into Feuerstein's face. 
 "You mustn't forget." 
 
 Feuerstein's eyes shifted rapidly as he 
 said in a false voice: "She got a divorce 
 years ago." 
 
 "M-m-m," said Loeb. 
 
 "Anyhow, she's away off in Russia." 
 
 "I don't want you to confess a crime 
 
I want revenge ' ' 
 
 Page 96 
 
A SOUL SEEKS SALVE 
 
 you haven't come to me about," said Loeb, 
 adding with peculiar emphasis: "Of 
 course, if we knew you were still married 
 to the Mrs. Feuerstein of seven years ago 
 we couldn't take the present case. As it 
 is the best way is to bluff the old brewer. 
 He doesn't want publicity; neither do you. 
 But you know he doesn't, and he doesn't 
 know that you love quiet." 
 
 "Ganser treated me infamously. He 
 must sweat for it. I'm nothing if not a 
 good hater." 
 
 "No doubt," said Loeb dryly. "And 
 you have rights which the law safe 
 guards." 
 
 "What shall I do?" 
 
 "Leave that to us. How much do you 
 want how much damages?" 
 
 "He ought to pay at least twenty-five 
 thousand." 
 
 Loeb shrugged his shoulders. "Ridic 
 ulous!" he said. "Possibly the five with- 
 97 
 
THE FOHTUNE HUNTER 
 
 out the twenty. And how do you expect 
 to pay us?" 
 
 "I'm somewhat pressed just at the mo 
 ment. But I thought" Feuerstein halted. 
 
 "That we'd take the case as a specula 
 tion? Well, to oblige an old client, we 
 will. But you must agree to give us all 
 we can get over and above five thousand 
 half what we get if it's below that." 
 
 "Those are hard terms," remonstrated 
 Feuerstein. The more he had thought on 
 his case, the larger his expectations had 
 become. 
 
 "Very generous terms, in the circum 
 stances. You can take it. or leave it." 
 
 "I can't do anything without you. I 
 accept." 
 
 "Very well." Loeb took up his pen, as 
 if he were done with Feuerstein, but went 
 on: "And you're sure that the the for 
 mer Mrs. Feuerstein is divorced and 
 won't turn up?" 
 
A SOUL SEEKS SALVE 
 
 "Absolutely. She swore she'd never en 
 ter any country where I was." 
 
 "Has she any friends who are likely to 
 hear of this?" 
 
 "She knew no one here." 
 
 "All right. Go into the room to the 
 left there. Mr. Travis or Mr. Gordon will 
 take your statement of the facts names, 
 dates, all details. Good morning." 
 
 Feuerstein went to Travis, small and 
 sleek, smooth and sly. When Travis had 
 done with him, he showed him out. "Call 
 day after to-morrow," he said, "and when 
 you come, ask for me. Mr. Loeb never 
 bothers with these small cases." 
 
 Travis reported to Loeb half an hour 
 later, when Feuerstein's statement had 
 been typewritten. Loeb read the state 
 ment through twice with great care. 
 "Most complete, Mr. Travis," was his 
 comment. "You've done a good piece of 
 work." He sat silent, drumming noise- 
 99 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 lessly on the table with his stumpy, hairy, 
 fat fingers. At last he began: "It ought 
 to be worth at least twenty thousand. Do 
 you know Ganser?" 
 
 "Just a speaking acquaintance." 
 "Excellent. What kind of a man is he?" 
 "Stupid and ignorant, but not without 
 a certain cunning. We can get at him 
 all right, though. He's deadly afraid of 
 social scandal. Wants to get into the Ger 
 man Club and become a howling swell. 
 But he don't stand a chance, though he 
 don't know it." 
 
 "You'd better go to see him yourself," 
 said Loeb. 
 
 'Til be glad to do it, Mr. Loeb. Isn't 
 your man this Feuerstein a good bit to 
 the queer?" 
 
 "A dead beat one of the worst kind 
 the born gentleman. You've noticed, per 
 haps, that where a man or woman has been 
 brought up to live without work, to live 
 100 
 
A SOUL SEEKS SALVE 
 
 off other people's work, there's nothing 
 they wouldn't stoop to, to keep on living 
 that way. As for this chap, if he had got 
 started right, he'd be operating up in the 
 Fifth Avenue district. Pie used to have a 
 wife. He says he's divorced." 
 
 Loeb and Travis looked each at the 
 other significantly. "I see," said Travis. 
 "Neither side wants scandal. Still, I think 
 you're right, that Ganser's good for twen 
 ty thousand." 
 
 "You can judge better after you've felt 
 him," replied Loeb. "You'd better go at 
 once. Give him the tip that Feuerstein's 
 about to force him to produce his daugh 
 ter in court. But you understand. Try to 
 induce him to go to Beck." Travis 
 grinned and Loeb's eyes twinkled. "You 
 might lay it on strong about Feuerstein's 
 actor-craze for getting into the papers." 
 
 "That's a grand idea," exclaimed 
 Travis. "I don't think I'll suggest any 
 101 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 sum if he agrees to go to Beck. Beck can 
 get at least five thousand more out of him 
 than any other lawyer in town." 
 
 "Beck's the wonder," said Loeb. 
 
 "Loeb and Beck," corrected Travis in a 
 flattering tone. 
 
 Loeb waved his hot, fat head gently to 
 and fro as if a pleasant cooling stream 
 were being played upon it. "I think I 
 have got a 'pretty good nut on me,' as 
 John L. used to say," he replied. "I think 
 I do know a little about the law. And 
 now hustle yourself, my boy. This case 
 must be pushed. The less time Ganser has 
 to look about, the better for our client." 
 
 Travis found Ganser in his office at the 
 brewery. The old man's face was red and 
 troubled. 
 
 "I've come on very unpleasant business, 
 Mr. Ganser," said Travis with deference. 
 "As you know, I am with Loeb, Lynn, 
 102 
 
A SOUL SEEKS SALVE 
 
 Levy and McCafferty. Our client, Mr. 
 Feuerstein " 
 
 Ganser leaped to his feet, apoplectic. 
 "Get out!" he shouted, "I don't speak with 
 you!" 
 
 "As an officer of the court, Mr. Gan 
 ser," said Travis suavely, "it is my pain 
 ful duty to insist upon a hearing. We 
 lawyers can't select our clients. We must 
 do our best for all comers. Our firm has 
 sent me out of kindly feeling for you. We 
 are all men of family, like yourself, and, 
 when the case was forced on us, we at 
 once tried to think how we could be of 
 service to you of course, while doing our 
 full legal duty by our client. I've come 
 in the hope of helping you to avoid the 
 disgrace of publicity." 
 
 "Get out!" growled Peter. "I know 
 lawyers they're all thieves. Get out!" 
 But Travis knew that Peter wished him to 
 stay. 
 
 103 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 "I needn't enlarge on our client Mr. 
 Feuerstein. You know he's an actor. You 
 know how they crave notoriety. You 
 know how eager the newspapers are to 
 take up and make a noise about matters 
 of this kind." 
 
 Peter was sweating profusely, and had 
 to seat himself. "It's outrageous!" he 
 groaned in German. 
 
 "Feuerstein has ordered us to have your 
 daughter brought into court at once to 
 morrow. He's your daughter's lawful 
 husband and she's well beyond the legal 
 age. Of course, he can't compel her to live 
 with him or you to support him. But he 
 can force the courts to inquire publicly. 
 And I'm sorry to say we'll not be able to 
 restrain him or the press, once he gets the 
 baU to rolling." 
 
 Peter felt it rolling over him, tons 
 heavy. "What you talk about?" he said, 
 on his guard but eager. 
 
 104 
 
A SOUL SEEKS SALVE 
 
 "It's an outrage that honest men should 
 be thus laid open to attack," continued 
 Travis in a sympathetic tone. "But if the 
 law permits these outrages, it also pro 
 vides remedies. Your daughter's mistake 
 may cost you a little something, but there 
 need be no scandal." 
 
 "What do you mean by that?" asked 
 Ganser. 
 
 "Really, I've talked too much already, 
 Mr. Ganser. I almost forgot, for the mo 
 ment, that I'm representing Mr. Feuer- 
 stein. But, as between friends, I'd advise 
 you to go to some good divorce lawyers 
 a firm that is reputable but understands 
 the ins and outs of the business, some firm 
 like Beck and Brown. They can tell you 
 exactly what to do." 
 
 Ganser regarded his "friend" suspi 
 ciously but credulously. "I'll see," he said. 
 "But I won't pay a cent." 
 
 "Right you are, sir! And there may be 
 
 105 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 a way out of it without paying. But Beck 
 can tell you." Travis made a motion 
 toward the inside pocket of his coat, then 
 pretended to change his mind. "I came 
 here to serve the papers on you," he said 
 apologetically. "But I'll take the respon 
 sibility of delaying it can't make Feuer- 
 stein any less married, and your daugh 
 ter's certainly safe in her father's care. 
 I'll wait in the hope that you'll take the 
 first step." 
 
 Ganser lost no time in going to his own 
 lawyers Fisher, Windisch and Carteret, 
 in the Postal Telegraph Building. He 
 told Windisch the whole story. "And," 
 he ended, "I've got a detective looking 
 up the rascal. He's a wretch a black 
 wretch." 
 
 "We can't take your case, Mr. Ganser," 
 
 said Windisch. "It's wholly out of our 
 
 line. We don't do that kind of work. I 
 
 should say Beck and Brown were your 
 
 106 
 
A SOUL SEEKS SALVE 
 
 people. They stand well, and at the same 
 time they know all the tricks." 
 
 "But they may play me the tricks." 
 
 "I think not. They stand well at the 
 bar." 
 
 "Yes, yes," sneered Peter, who was 
 never polite, was always insultingly frank 
 to any one who served him for pay. "I 
 know that bar." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Ganser," replied Windisch, 
 angry but willing to take almost anything 
 from a rich client, "I guess you can look 
 out for yourself. Of course there's always 
 danger, once you get outside the straight 
 course of justice. As I understand it, 
 your main point is no publicity?" 
 
 "That's right," replied Ganser. "No 
 newspapers no trial." 
 
 "Then Beck and Brown. Drive as close 
 a bargain as you can. But you'll have to 
 give up a few thousands, I'm afraid." 
 
 Ganser went over into Nassau Street 
 107 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 and found Beck in his office. He gazed 
 with melancholy misgivings at this lean 
 man with hair and whiskers of a lifeless 
 black. Beck suggested a starved black 
 spider, especially when you were looking 
 into his cold, amused, malignant black 
 eyes. He made short work of the guile 
 less brewer, who was dazed and frightened 
 by the meshes in which he was enveloped. 
 Staring at the horrid specter of publicity 
 which these men of craft kept before him, 
 he could not vigorously protest against 
 extortion. Beck discovered that twenty 
 thousand was his fighting limit. 
 
 "Leave the matter entirely in our 
 hands," said Beck. "We'll make the best 
 bargain we can. But Feuerstein has 
 shrewd lawyers none better. That man 
 Loeb " Beck threw up his arms. "Of 
 course," he continued, "I had to know your 
 limit. I'll try to make the business as 
 cheap for you as possible." 
 
 108 
 
A SOUL SEEKS SALVE 
 
 "Put 'em off," said Ganser. "My 
 Lena's sick." 
 
 His real reason was his hopes from the 
 reports on Feuerstein's past, which his de 
 tective would make. But he thought it was 
 not necessary to tell Beck about the detec 
 tive. 
 
VI 
 
 TRAGEDY IN TOMPKINS SQUARE 
 
 After another talk with Travis, Feuer- 
 stein decided that he must give up Hilda 
 entirely until this affair with the Gansers 
 was settled. Afterward well, there would 
 be time to decide when he had his five thou 
 sand. He sent her a note, asking her to 
 meet him in Tompkins Square on Friday 
 evening. That afternoon he carefully pre 
 pared himself. He resolved that the scene 
 between her and him should be, so far as 
 his part was concerned, a masterpiece of 
 that art of which he knew himself to be 
 one of the greatest living exponents. 
 Only his own elegant languor had pre 
 vented the universal recognition of this 
 and his triumph over the envy of profes 
 sionals and the venality of critics. 
 Jio 
 
IN TOMPKINS SQUARE 
 
 It was a concert night in Tompkins 
 Square, and Hilda, off from her work for 
 an hour, came alone through the crowds 
 to meet him. She made no effort to con 
 trol the delight in her eyes and in her 
 voice. She loved him; he loved her. Why 
 suppress and deny? Why not glory in the 
 glorious truth? She loved him, not because 
 he was her conquest, but because she was 
 his. 
 
 Mr. Feuerstein was so absorbed in his 
 impending "act" that he barely noted how 
 pretty she was and how utterly in love 
 what was there remarkable in a woman be 
 ing in love with him? "The women are 
 all crazy about me," was his inward com 
 ment whenever a woman chanced to glance 
 at him. As he took Hilda's hand he gave 
 her a look of intense, yearning melan 
 choly. He sighed deeply. "Let us go 
 apart," he said. Then he glanced gloom 
 ily round and sighed again. 
 HI 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 They seated themselves on a bench far 
 away from the music and the crowds. He 
 did not speak but repeated his deep sigh. 
 
 "Has it made you worse to come, dear?" 
 Hilda asked anxiously. "Are you sick?" 
 
 "Sick?" he said in a hollow voice. "My 
 soul is sick dying. My God! My God!" 
 An impressive pause. "All, child, you do 
 not know what suffering is you who 
 have lived only in these simple, humble 
 surroundings." 
 
 Hilda was trembling with apprehen 
 sion. "What is it, Carl? You can tell me. 
 Let me help you bear it." 
 
 "No! no! I must bear it alone. I must 
 take my dark shadow from your young 
 life. I ought not to have come. I should 
 have fled. But love makes me a coward." 
 
 "But I love you, Carl," she said gently. 
 "And I have missed you dreadfully, 
 dreadfully!" 
 
 He rolled his eyes wildly. "You torture 
 
He kissed her, then drew back Page 
 
IN TOMPKINS SQUARE 
 
 me!" he exclaimed, seizing her hand in a 
 dead man's clutch. "How can I speak?" 
 
 Hilda's heart seemed to stand still. She 
 was pale to the lips, and he could see, even 
 in the darkness, her eyes grow and startle. 
 "What is it?" she murmured. "You know 
 I can bear anything for you." 
 
 "Not that tone," he groaned. "Re 
 proach me! Revile me! Be harsh, scorn 
 ful but not those tender accents." 
 
 He felt her hand become cold and he 
 saw terror in her eyes. "Forgive me," she 
 said humbly. "I don't know what to say 
 or do. I you look so strange. It makes 
 me feel all queer inside. Won't you tell 
 me, please?" 
 
 He noted with artistic satisfaction that 
 the band was playing passionate love- 
 music with sobs and sad ecstasies of fare 
 well embraces in it. He kissed her, then 
 drew back. "No," he groaned. "Those 
 lips are not for me, accursed that I am." 
 
 113 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 She was no longer looking at him, but 
 sat gazing straight ahead, her shoulders 
 bent as if she were crouching to receive a 
 blow. He began in a low voice, and, as 
 he spoke, it rose or fell as his words and 
 the distant music prompted him. "Mine 
 has been a luckless life," he said. "I have 
 been a football of destiny, kicked and 
 flung about, hither and yon. Again and 
 again I have thought in my despair to lay 
 me down and die. But something has 
 urged me on, on, on. And at last I met 
 you." 
 
 He paused and groaned partly be 
 cause it was the proper place, partly with 
 vexation. Here was a speech to thrill, yet 
 she sat there inert, her face a stupid blank. 
 He was not even sure that she had heard. 
 "Are you listening?" he asked in a stern 
 aside, a curious mingling of the actor and 
 the stage manager. 
 
 "I I don't know," she answered, start- 
 
IN TOMPKINS SQUARE 
 
 ling. "I feel so so queer. I don't 
 seem to be able to pay attention." She 
 looked at him timidly and her chin quiv 
 ered. "Don't you love me any more?" 
 
 "Love you? Would that I did not! 
 But I must on my time is short. How 
 can you say I do not love you when my 
 soul is like a raging fire?" 
 
 She shook her head slowly. "Your voice 
 don't feel like it," she said. "What is it? 
 What are you going to say?" 
 
 He sighed and looked away from her 
 with an irritated expression. "Little stu 
 pid!" he muttered she didn't appreciate 
 him and he was a fool to expect it. But 
 "art for art's sake"; and he went on in 
 tones of gentle melancholy. "I love you, 
 but fate has again caught me up. I am be 
 ing whirled away. I stretch out my arms 
 to you in vain. Do you understand?" It 
 exasperated him for her to be so still why 
 didn't she weep? 
 
 115 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 She shook her head and replied quietly: 
 "No what is it? Don't you love me any 
 more?" 
 
 "Love has nothing to do with it," he 
 said, as gently as he could in the irritating 
 circumstances. "My mysterious destiny 
 has" 
 
 "You said that before," she interrupted. 
 "What is it? Can't you tell me so that I 
 can understand?" 
 
 "You never loved me 1" he cried bitterly. 
 
 "You know that isn't so," she answered. 
 "Won't you tell me, Carl?" 
 
 "A specter has risen from my past I 
 must leave you I may never return " 
 
 She gave a low, wailing cry it seemed 
 like an echo of the music. Then she began 
 to sob not loudly, but in a subdued, de 
 spairing way. She was not conscious of 
 her grief, but only of his words of the 
 dream vanished, the hopes shattered. 
 
 "Never?" she said brokenly. 
 116 
 
IN TOMPKINS SQUARE 
 
 "Never!" he replied in a hoarse whis 
 per. 
 
 Mr. Feuerstein looked down at Hilda's 
 quivering shoulders with satisfaction. "I 
 thought I could make even her feel," he 
 said to himself complacently. Then to her 
 in the hoarse undertone: "And my heart 
 is breaking." 
 
 She straightened and her tears seemed 
 to dry with the flash of her eyes. "Don't 
 say that you mustn't!" She blazed out 
 before his astonished eyes, a woman elec 
 tric with disdain and anger. "It's false 
 false! I hate you hate you you never 
 cared you've made a fool of me " 
 
 "Hilda!" He felt at home now and his 
 voice became pleading and anguished. 
 "You, too, desert me! Ah, God, whenever 
 was there man so wretched as I?" He 
 buried his face in his hands. 
 
 "Oh, you put it on well," she scoffed. 
 "But I know what it all means/' 
 117 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 Mr. Feuerstein rose wearily. "Fare 
 well," he said in a broken voice. "At least 
 I am glad you will be spared the suffering 
 that is blasting my life. Thank God, she 
 did not love me!" 
 
 The physical fact of his rising to go 
 struck her courage full in the face. 
 "No no," she urged hurriedly, "not yet 
 not just yet wait a few minutes 
 
 more " 
 
 "No I must go farewell!" And he 
 seated himself beside her, put his arm 
 around her. 
 
 She lay still in his arms for a moment, 
 then murmured: "Say it isn't so, Carl 
 dear!" 
 
 "I would say there is hope, heart's dar 
 ling," he whispered, "but I have no right 
 to blast your young life. And I may never 
 return." 
 
 She started up, her face glowing. 
 "Then you will return?" 
 
 118 
 
IN TOMPKINS SQUARE 
 
 "It may be that I can,'* he answered. 
 "But" 
 
 "Then 111 wait gladly. No matter 
 how long it is, I'll wait. Why didn't you 
 say at first, 'Hilda, something I can't tell 
 you about has happened. I must go away. 
 When I can, I'll come.' That would have 
 been enough, because I I love you!" 
 
 "What have I done to deserve such love 
 as this!" he exclaimed, and for an instant 
 he almost forgot himself in her beauty and 
 sweetness and sincerity. 
 
 "Will it be long?" she asked after a 
 while. 
 
 "I hope not, bride of my soul. But I 
 can not dare not say." 
 
 "Wherever you go, and no matter what 
 happens, dear," she said softly, "you'll al 
 ways know that I'm loving you, won't 
 you?" And she looked at him with great, 
 luminous, honest eyes. 
 
 He began to be uncomfortable. Her 
 119 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 complete trust was producing an effect 
 even upon his nature. The good that evil 
 can never kill out of a man was rousing 
 what was very like a sense of shame. "I 
 must go now," he said with real gentle 
 ness in his voice and a look at her that had 
 real longing in it. He went on: "I 
 shall come as soon as the shadow passes I 
 shall come soon, nerzallerliebste!" 
 
 She was cheerful to the last. But after 
 he had left she sat motionless, except for 
 an occasional shiver. From the music- 
 stand came a Waldteuf el waltz, with its 
 ecstatic throb and its long, dreamy swing, 
 its mingling of joy with foreboding of 
 sadness. The tears streamed down her 
 cheeks. "He's gone," she said miserably. 
 She rose and went through the crowd, 
 stumbling against people, making the 
 homeward journey by instinct alone. She 
 seemed to be walking in her sleep. She 
 entered the shop it was crowded with 
 120 
 
IN TOMPKINS SQUARE 
 
 customers, and her father, her mother and 
 August were bustling about behind the 
 counters. "Here, tie this up," said her 
 father, thrusting into her hands a sheet of 
 wrapping paper on which were piled a 
 chicken, some sausages, a bottle of olives 
 and a can of cherries. She laid the paper 
 on the counter and went on through the 
 parlor and up the stairs to her plain, neat, 
 little bedroom. She threw herself on the 
 bed, face downward. She fell at once into 
 a deep sleep. When she awoke it was be 
 ginning to dawn. She remembered and 
 began to moan. "He's gone! He's gone! 
 He's gone!" she repeated over and over 
 again. And she lay there, sobbing and 
 calling to him. 
 
 When she faced the family there were 
 black circles around her eyes. They were 
 the eyes of a woman grown, and they 
 looked out upon the world with sorrow in 
 them for the first time. 
 1*1 
 
VII 
 
 LOVE IN SEVERAL ASPECTS 
 
 It was not long before the community 
 was talking of the change in Hilda, the 
 abrupt change to a gentle, serious, silent 
 woman, the sparkle gone from her eyes, 
 pathos there in its stead. But not even her 
 own family knew her secret. 
 
 "When is Mr. Feuerstein coming 
 again?" asked her father when a week had 
 passed. 
 
 "I don't know just when. Soon," an 
 swered Hilda, in a tone which made it im 
 possible for such a man as he to inquire 
 further. 
 
 Sophie brought all her cunning to bear 
 in her effort to get at the facts. But 
 Hilda evaded her hints and avoided her 
 traps. After much thinking she decided 
 
 122 
 
LOVE IN SEVERAL ASPECTS 
 
 that Mr. Feuerstein had probably gone 
 for good, that Hilda was hoping when 
 there was nothing to hope for, and that her 
 own affairs were suffering from the ces 
 sation of action. She was in the mood to 
 entertain the basest suggestions her craft 
 could put forward for making marriage 
 between Hilda and Otto impossible. But 
 she had not yet reached the stage at which 
 overt acts are deliberately planned upon 
 the surface of the mind. 
 
 One of her girl friends ran in to gossip 
 with her late in the afternoon of the 
 eighth day after Mr. Feuerstein's "part 
 ing scene" in Tompkins Square. The talk 
 soon drifted to Hilda, whom the other girl 
 did not like. 
 
 "I wonder what's become of that lover 
 of hers that tall fellow from up town?" 
 asked Miss Hunneker. 
 
 "I don't know," replied Sophie in a 
 strained, nervous manner. "I always 
 
 123 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 hated to see Hilda go with him. ~No good 
 ever comes of that sort of thing." 
 
 "I supposed she was going to marry 
 him." 
 
 Sophie became very uneasy indeed. "It 
 don't often turn out that way," she said 
 in a voice that was evidently concealing 
 something apparently an ugly rent in 
 the character of her friend. 
 
 Walpurga Hunneker opened her eyes 
 wide. "You don't mean " she exclaimed. 
 And, as Sophie looked still more confused, 
 "Well, I thought so! Gracious! Her 
 pride must have had a fall. No wonder 
 she looks so disturbed." 
 
 "Poor Hilda!" said Sophie mournfully. 
 Then she looked at Walpurga in a fright 
 ened way as if she had been betrayed into 
 saying too much. 
 
 Walpurga spent a busy evening among 
 her confidantes, with the result that the 
 next day the neighborhood was agitated 
 
LOVE IN SEVERAL ASPECTS 
 
 by gossip insinuations that grew bolder 
 and bolder, that had sprung from no 
 where, but pointed to Hilda's sad face as 
 proof of their truth. And on the third 
 day they had reached Otto's mother. Not 
 a detail was lacking even the scene be 
 tween Hilda and her father was one of 
 the several startling climaxes of the tale. 
 Mrs. Heilig had been bitterly resentful of 
 Hilda's treatment of her son, and she ac 
 cepted the story it was in such perfect 
 harmony with her expectations from the 
 moment she heard of Mr. Feuerstein. In 
 the evening, when he came home from the 
 shop, she told him. 
 
 "There isn't a word of truth in it, 
 mother," he said. "I don't care who told 
 you, it's a lie.' 5 
 
 "Your love makes you blind," answered 
 the mother. "But I can see that her vanity 
 has led her just where vanity always leads 
 to destruction." 
 
 125 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 "Who told you?" he demanded. 
 
 Mrs. Heilig gave him the names of sev 
 eral women. "It is known to all," she said. 
 
 His impulse was to rush out and trace 
 down the lie to its author. But he soon 
 realized the folly of such an attempt. He 
 would only aggravate the gossip and the 
 scandal, give the scandal-mongers a new 
 chapter for their story. Yet he could not 
 rest without doing something. 
 
 He went to Hilda she had been most 
 friendly toward him since the day he 
 helped her with her lover. He asked her to 
 walk with him in the Square. When they 
 were alone, he began : "Hilda, you believe 
 I'm your friend, don't you?" 
 
 She looked as if she feared he were 
 about to reopen the old subject. 
 
 "No I'm not going to worry you," he 
 said in answer to the look. "I mean just 
 friend." 
 
 "I know you are, Otto," she replied 
 
 126 
 
LOVE IN SEVERAL ASPECTS 
 
 with tears in her eyes. "You are indeed 
 my friend. I've counted on you ever since 
 you ever since that Sunday." 
 
 "Then you won't think wrong of me if 
 I ask you a question? You'll know I 
 wouldn't, if I didn't have a good reason, 
 even though I can't explain?" 
 
 "Yes what is it?" 
 
 "Hilda, is is Mr. Feuerstein coming 
 back?" 
 
 Hilda flushed. "Yes, Otto," she said. 
 "I haven't spoken to any one about it, but 
 I can trust you. He's had trouble and it 
 has called him away. But he told me he'd 
 come back." She looked at him appealing- 
 ly. "You know that I love him, Otto. 
 Some day you will like him, will see what 
 a noble man he is." 
 
 "When is he coming back?" 
 
 "I didn't ask him. I knew he'd come as 
 soon as he could. I wouldn't pry into his 
 affairs." 
 
 127 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 "Then you don't know why he went or 
 when he's coming?" 
 
 "I trust him, just as you'll want a girl 
 to trust you some day when you love her." 
 
 As soon as he could leave her, he went 
 up town, straight to the German Theater. 
 In the box-office sat a young man with hair 
 precisely parted in the middle and sleeked 
 down in two whirls brought low on his 
 forehead. 
 
 "I'd like to get Mr. Feuerstein's ad 
 dress," said Otto. 
 
 "That dead-beat?" the young man re 
 plied contemptuously. "I suppose he got 
 into you like he did into every one else. 
 Yes, you can have his address. And give 
 him one for me when you catch him. He 
 did me out of ten dollars." 
 
 Otto went on to the boarding-house in 
 East Sixteenth Street. No, Mr. Feuer- 
 stein was not in and it was not known 
 when he would return he was very un- 
 
 128 
 
LOVE IN SEVERAL ASPECTS 
 
 certain. Otto went to Stuyvesant Square 
 and seated himself where he could see the 
 stoop of the boarding-house. An hour, 
 two hours, two hours and a half passed, 
 and then his patient attitude changed ab 
 ruptly to action. He saw the soft light 
 hat and the yellow bush coming toward 
 him. Mr. Feuerstein paled slightly as he 
 recognized Otto. 
 
 "I'm not going to hurt you," said Otto 
 in a tone which Mr. Feuerstein wished he 
 had the physical strength to punish. "Sit 
 down here I've got something to say to 
 
 you." 
 
 "I'm in a great hurry. Really, you'll 
 have to come again." 
 
 But Otto's look won. Mr. Feuerstein 
 hesitated, seated himself. 
 
 "I want to tell you," said Otto quietly, 
 
 "that as the result of your going away so 
 
 suddenly and not coming back a wicked 
 
 lying story is going round about Hilda. 
 
 129 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 She does not know it yet, but it won't be 
 long before something will be said may 
 be publicly. And it will break her heart." 
 
 "I can't discuss her with you," said Mr. 
 Feuerstein. "Doubtless you mean well. 
 I'm obliged to you for coming. I'll see." 
 He rose. 
 
 "Is that all?" said Otto. 
 
 "What more can I say?" 
 
 "But what are you going to do?" 
 
 "I don't see how I can prevent a lot of 
 ignorant people from gossiping." 
 
 "Then you're not going straight down 
 there? You're not going to do what a 
 man'd do if he had the decency of a dog?" 
 
 "You are insulting! But because I be 
 lieve you mean well, I shall tell you that 
 it is impossible for me to go for several 
 days at least. As soon as I honorably can, 
 I shall come and the scandal will vanish 
 like smoke." 
 
 Otto let him go. "I mustn't thrash him, 
 
 130 
 
LOVE IN SEVERAL ASPECTS 
 
 and I can't compel him to be a man." He 
 returned to the German Theater; he must 
 learn all he could about this Feuerstein. 
 
 "Did you see him?" asked the ticket- 
 seller. 
 
 "Yes, but I didn't get anything." 
 
 Otto looked so down that the ticket- 
 seller was moved to pity, to generosity. 
 "Well, I'll give you a tip. Keep after 
 him; keep your eye on him. He's got a 
 rich father-in-law." 
 
 Otto leaned heavily on the sill of the lit 
 tle window. "Father-in-law?" A sicken 
 ing suspicion peered into his mind. 
 
 "He was full the other night and he told 
 one of our people he was married to a rich 
 man's daughter." 
 
 "Was the name Brauner?" asked Otto. 
 
 "He didn't name any names. But let 
 me think they say it's a daughter of a 
 brewer, away up town. Yes, Ganser I 
 think that was the name." 
 
 151 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 "Oh!" Otto's face brightened. "Where 
 is Ganser's place?" he asked. 
 
 "I don't know look in the directory. 
 But the tip is to wait a few days. He 
 hasn't got hold of any of the old man's 
 money yet there's some hitch. There'll 
 be plenty for all when it comes, so you 
 needn't fret." 
 
 Otto went to the brewery, but Peter 
 had gone home. Otto went on to the house 
 and Peter came down to the brilliant par 
 lor, where the battle of hostile shades and 
 colors was raging with undiminished fury. 
 In answer to Peter's look of inquiry, he 
 said: "I came about your son-in-law, Mr. 
 Feuerstein." 
 
 "Who are you? Who told you?" asked 
 Peter, wilting into a chair. 
 
 "They told me at the theater." 
 
 Peter gave a sort of groan. "It's out!" 
 he cried, throwing up his thick, short arms. 
 "Everybody knows!" 
 
 132 
 
LOVE IN SEVERAL ASPECTS 
 
 Shrewd Otto saw the opening. "I don't 
 think so," he replied, "at least not yet. He 
 has a bad reputation I see you know that 
 already. But it's nothing to what he will 
 have when it comes out that he's been try 
 ing to marry a young lady down town 
 since he married your daughter." 
 
 "But it mustn't come out!" exclaimed 
 Ganser. "I won't have it. This scandal 
 has disgraced me enough." 
 
 "That's what I came to see you about," 
 said Otto. "The young lady and her 
 friends don't know about his marriage. It 
 isn't necessary that any of them should 
 know, except her. But she must be put on 
 her guard. He might induce her to run 
 away with him." 
 
 "Rindsvieh!" muttered Ganser, his hair 
 and whiskers bristling. "Drecfc/" 
 
 "I want to ask you, as a man and a 
 father, to see that this young lady is 
 warned. She'll be anxious enough to keep 
 
 133 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 quiet. If you do, there won't be any scan 
 dal at least not from there." 
 
 "I'll go down and warn her. Where is 
 she? I'll speak to her father." 
 
 "And have him make a row? No, there's 
 only one way. Send your daughter to 
 her." 
 
 "But you don't know my daughter. 
 She's a born " Just in time Ganser re 
 membered that he was talking to a stran 
 ger and talking about his daughter. "She 
 wouldn't do it right," he finished. 
 
 "She can go in and see the young lady 
 alone and come out without speaking to 
 anybody else. I'll promise you there'll be 
 no risk." 
 
 Ganser thought it over and decided to 
 take Otto's advice. They discussed Mr. 
 Feuerstein for several minutes, and when 
 Otto left, Ganser followed him part of the 
 way down the stoop, shaking hands with 
 him. It was a profound pleasure to the 
 
 134, 
 
LOVE IN SEVERAL ASPECTS 
 
 brewer to be able to speak his mind on the 
 subject of his son-in-law to an intelligent, 
 appreciative person. He talked nothing 
 else to his wife and Lena, but he had the 
 feeling that he might as well talk aloud to 
 himself. 
 
 After supper the Gansers still had 
 supper in the evening, their fashionable 
 progress in that direction having reached 
 only the stage at which dinner is called 
 luncheon he put Lena into the carriage 
 and they drove to Avenue A. On the way 
 he told her exactly what to say and do. 
 He stayed in the carriage. "Be quick," he 
 said, "and no foolishness!" 
 
 Lena, swelling and rustling with finery 
 and homelier than before her troubles, lit 
 tle though they disturbed her, marched 
 into the shop and up to the end counter, 
 where Hilda was standing. 
 
 "You are Miss Hilda Brauner?" she 
 said. "I want to see you alone." 
 
 135 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 Hilda looked her surprise but showed 
 Lena into the living-room, which hap 
 pened to be vacant. Lena could not begin, 
 so intent was she upon examining her 
 rival. "How plain she's dressed," she 
 thought, "and how thin and black she is!" 
 But it was in vain; she could not deceive 
 her rising jealousy. It made her forget 
 her father's instructions, forget that she 
 was supposed to hate Feuerstein and was 
 getting rid of him. 
 
 "I am Mrs. Carl Feuerstein," she cried, 
 her face red and her voice shrill with anger 
 and excitement. "And I want you to stop 
 flirting with my husband !" 
 
 Hilda stood petrified. Lena caught 
 sight of a photograph on the mantelpiece 
 behind Hilda. She gave a scream of fury 
 and darted for it. "How dare you!" she 
 shrieked. "You impudent thing!" She 
 snatched the frame, tore it away from the 
 photograph and flung it upon the floor. 
 136 
 
She suddenly sprang at Lena. " You lie ! " she exclaimed 
 
 Page 
 
LOVE IN SEVERAL ASPECTS 
 
 As she gazed at that hair like a halo of 
 light, at those romantic features and up 
 turned eyes, she fell to crying and kissing 
 them. 
 
 Hilda slowly turned and watched the 
 spectacle the swollen, pudgy face, tear- 
 stained, silly, ugly, the tears and kisses 
 falling upon the likeness of her lover. 
 She suddenly sprang at Lena, her face 
 like a thunder-storm, her black brows 
 straight and her great eyes flashing. "You 
 lie !" she exclaimed. And she tore the pho 
 tograph from Lena's hands and clasped it 
 to her bosom. 
 
 Lena shrank in physical fear from this 
 aroused lioness. "He's my husband," she 
 whined. "You haven't got any right to his 
 picture." 
 
 "You lie!" repeated Hilda, throwing 
 back her head. 
 
 "It's the truth," said Lena, beginning 
 to cry. "I swear to God it's so. You can 
 137 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 ask pa if it ain't. He's Mr. Ganser, the 
 brewer." 
 
 "Who sent you here to lie about him to 
 me?" 
 
 "Oh, you needn't put on. You knew he 
 was married. I don't wonder you're mad. 
 He's my husband, while he's only been 
 making a fool of you. You haven't got 
 any shame." Lena's eyes were on the 
 photograph again and her jealousy over 
 balanced fear. She laughed tauntingly. 
 "Of course you're trying to brazen it out. 
 Give me that picture! He's my husband!" 
 
 Just then Ganser appeared in the door 
 way he did not trust his daughter and 
 had followed her when he thought she was 
 staying too long. At sight of him she 
 began to weep again. "She won't believe 
 me, pa," she said. "Look at her standing 
 there hugging his picture." 
 
 Ganser scowled at his daughter and ad 
 dressed himself to Hilda. "It's true, 
 133 
 
LOVE IN SEVERAL ASPECTS 
 
 Miss," he said. "The man is a scoundrel. 
 I sent my daughter to warn you." 
 
 Hilda looked at him haughtily. "I 
 don't know you," she said, "and I do know 
 him. I don't know why you've come here 
 to slander him. But I do know that I'd 
 trust him against the whole world." She 
 glanced from father to daughter. "You 
 haven't done him any harm and you might 
 as well go." 
 
 Peter eyed her in disgust. "You're as 
 big a fool as my Lena," he said. "Come 
 on, Lena." 
 
 As Lena was leaving the room, she gave 
 Hilda a malignant glance. "He's my hus 
 band," she said spitefully, "and you're 
 well, I wouldn't want to say what you 
 
 are." 
 
 "Move!" shouted Ganser, pushing her 
 out of the room. His parting shot at 
 Hilda was: "Ask him." 
 
 Hilda, still holding the photograph, 
 189 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 stared at the doorway through which they 
 had disappeared. "You lie!" she repeated, 
 as if they were still there. Then again, 
 a little catch in her voice: "You lie!" 
 And after a longer interval, a third time, 
 with a sob in her throat: "You lie! I know 
 you lie!" She sat at the table and held the 
 photograph before her. She kissed it pas 
 sionately, gazed long at it, seeing in those 
 bold handsome features all that her heart's 
 love believed of him. 
 
 Suddenly she started up, went rapidly 
 down the side hall and out into the street. 
 Battling with her doubts, denouncing her 
 self as disloyal to him, she hurried up the 
 Avenue and across the Square and on until 
 she came to his lodgings. When she asked 
 for him the maid opened the parlor door 
 and called through the crack: "Mr. Feu- 
 erstein, a lady wants to see you." 
 
 As the maid disappeared down the base 
 ment stairs, Mr. Feuerstein appeared. At 
 
 140 
 
LOVE IN SEVERAL ASPECTS 
 
 sight of her he started back. "Hilda!" he 
 exclaimed theatrically, and frowned. 
 
 "Don't be angry with me," she said 
 humbly. "I wouldn't have come, only " 
 
 "You must go at once!" His tone was 
 abrupt, irritated. 
 
 "Yes I will. I just wanted to warn 
 you " She raised her eyes appealingly 
 toward his face. "Two people came to see 
 me to-night Mr. Ganser and his daugh 
 ter" 
 
 Feuerstein fell back a step and she saw 
 that he was shaking and that his face had 
 become greenish white. "It's false!" he 
 blustered. "False as hell!" 
 
 And she knew that it was true. 
 
 She continued to look at him and he did 
 not try to meet her eyes. "What did they 
 tell you?" he said, after a long pause, re 
 membering that he had denied before a 
 charge had been made. 
 
 She was looking away from him now. 
 
 141 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 She seemed not to have heard him. "I 
 must go," she murmured, and began slow 
 ly to descend the stoop. 
 
 He followed her, laid his hand upon her 
 arm. "Hilda!" he pleaded. "Let me ex 
 plain!" 
 
 "Don't touch me!" She snatched her 
 arm away from him. She ran down the 
 rest of the steps and fled along the street. 
 She kept close to the shadow of the houses. 
 She went through Avenue A with hang 
 ing head, feeling that the eyes of all were 
 upon her, condemning, scorning. She hid 
 herself in her little room, locking the door. 
 Down beside the bed she sank and buried 
 her face in the covers. And there she 
 lay, racked with the pain of her gaping 
 wounds wounds to love, to trust, to 
 pride, to self-respect. "Oh, God, let me 
 die," she moaned. "I can't ever look any 
 body in the face again." 
 
 142 
 
VIII 
 
 A SHEEP WIELDS THE SHEARS 
 
 A few days later Peter Ganser ap 
 peared before Beck, triumph flaunting 
 from his stupid features. Beck instantly 
 scented bad news. 
 
 "Stop the case," said Peter with a vul 
 gar insolence that grated upon the law 
 yer. "It's no good." 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Mr. Ganser. I 
 don't follow you." 
 
 "But I follow myself. Stop the case. I 
 pay you off now." 
 
 "You can't deal with courts as you can 
 with your employees, Mr. Ganser. There 
 are legal forms to be gone through. Of 
 course, if you're reconciled to your son- 
 in-law, why " 
 
 Peter laughed. ''Son-in-law! That 
 
 143 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 scoundrel he's a bigamist. I got the 
 proofs from Germany this morning." 
 
 Beck became blue round the edges of 
 his mouth and his eyes snapped. "So 
 you've been taking steps in this case with 
 out consulting me, Mr. Ganser?" 
 
 "I don't trust lawyers. Anyway, what 
 I hire you for? To try my case. It's none 
 of your business what I do outside. I pay 
 you off, and I don't pay for any dirty 
 works I don't get." He had wrought him 
 self into a fury. Experience had taught 
 him that that was the best mood in which 
 to conduct an argument about money. 
 
 "We'll send you your bill," said Beck, 
 in a huge, calm rage against this dull man 
 who had outwitted him. "If you wish to 
 make a scene, will you kindly go else 
 where?" 
 
 "I want to pay you off right away 
 quick. I think you and Loeb in cahoots. 
 My detective, he says you both must have 
 
 144 
 
A SHEEP WIELDS THE SHEARS 
 
 known about Feuerstein. He says you two 
 were partners and knew his record. I'll 
 expose you, if you don't settle now. Give 
 me my bill." 
 
 "It is impossible." Beck's tone was mild 
 and persuasive. "All the items are not in." 
 
 Ganser took out a roll of notes. "I pay 
 you five hundred dollars. Take it or fight. 
 I want a full receipt. I discharge you 
 
 now." 
 
 "My dear sir, we do not give our ser 
 vices for any such sum as that." 
 
 "Yes you do. And you don't get a 
 cent more. If I go out of here without 
 my full receipt, I fight. I expose you, you 
 swindler." 
 
 Peter was shouting at the top of his 
 lusty lungs. Beck wrote a receipt and 
 handed it to him. Peter read it and handed 
 it back. "I'm not as big a fool as I look," 
 he said. "That ain't a full receipt." 
 
 Beck wrote again. "Anything to get 
 
 145 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 you out of the office," he said, as he tossed 
 the five hundred dollars into a drawer. 
 "And when your family gets you into 
 trouble again " 
 
 Peter snorted. "Shut up!" he shouted, 
 banging his fist on the desk. "And don't 
 you tell the papers. If anything come out, 
 I expose you. My lawyer, Mr. Windisch, 
 say he can have you put out of court." 
 And Peter bustled and slammed his way 
 out. 
 
 Beck telephoned Loeb, and they took 
 lunch together. "Ganser has found out 
 about Feuerstein's wife," was Beck's 
 opening remark. 
 
 Loeb drew his lip back over his teeth. 
 "I wish I'd known it two hours sooner. 
 I let Feuerstein have ten dollars more." 
 
 "More?" 
 
 "More. He's had ninety-five on ac 
 count. I relied on you to handle the 
 brewer." 
 
 146 
 
A SHEEP WIELDS THE SHEARS 
 
 "And we're out our expenses in getting 
 ready for trial. " 
 
 "Well you'll send Ganser a heavy 
 bill." 
 
 Beck shook his head dismally. "That's 
 the worst of it. He called me a swindler, 
 said he'd show that you and I were in a 
 conspiracy, and dared me to send him a 
 bill. And in the circumstances I don't 
 think I will." 
 
 Loeb gave Beck a long and searching 
 look which Beck bore without flinching. 
 "No, I don't think you will send him a 
 bill," said Loeb slowly. "But how much 
 did he pay you?" 
 
 "Not a cent nothing but insults." 
 
 Loeb finished his luncheon in silence. 
 But he and Beck separated on the friend 
 liest terms. Loeb was too practical a phi 
 losopher to hate another man for doing 
 that which he would have done himself if 
 he had had the chance. At his office he told 
 147 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 a clerk to send Feuerstein a note, asking 
 him to call the next morning. When Feu 
 erstein came into the anteroom the gimlet- 
 eyed office boy disappeared through one of 
 the doors in the partition and reappeared 
 after a longer absence than usual. He 
 looked at Feuerstein with a cynical, con 
 temptuous smile in his eyes. 
 
 "Mr. Loeb asks me to tell you," he said, 
 "with his compliments, that you are a biga 
 mist and a swindler, and that if you ever 
 show your face here again he'll have you 
 locked up." 
 
 Feuerstein staggered and paled there 
 was no staginess in his manner. Then 
 without a word he slunk away. He had 
 not gone far up Center Street before a 
 hand was laid upon his shoulder from be 
 hind. He stopped as if he had been shot; 
 he shivered ; he slowly, and with a look of 
 fascinated horror, turned to see whose 
 hand had arrested him* 
 us 
 
A SHEEP WIELDS THE SHEARS 
 
 He was looking into the laughing face 
 of a man who was obviously a detective. 
 "You don't seem glad to see me, old boy," 
 said the detective with contemptuous fa 
 miliarity. 
 
 "I don't know you, sir." Feuerstein 
 made a miserable attempt at haughtiness. 
 
 "Of course you don't. But I know you 
 all about you. Come in here and let's 
 sit down a minute." 
 
 They went into a saloon and the detec 
 tive ordered two glasses of beer. "Now 
 listen to me, young fellow," he said. 
 "You're played out in this town. You've 
 got to get a move on you, see? We've 
 been looking you up, and you're wanted 
 for bigamy. But if you clear out, you 
 won't be followed. You've got to leave to 
 day, understand? If you're here to-mor 
 row morning, up the road you go." The 
 detective winked and waggled his thumb 
 meaningly in a northerly direction. 
 
 149 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 Feuerstein was utterly crushed. He 
 gulped down the beer and sat wiping the 
 sweat from his face. "I have done noth 
 ing," he protested in tragic tones. "Why 
 am I persecuted I, poor, friendless, help 
 less?" 
 
 "Pity about you," said the detective. 
 "You'd better go west and start again. 
 Why not try honest work? It's not so bad, 
 they say, once you get broke in." He rose 
 and shook hands with Feuerstein. "So 
 long," he said. "Good luck! Don't for 
 get!" And again he winked and waggled 
 his thumb in the direction of the peniten 
 tiary. 
 
 Feuerstein went to his lodgings, put on 
 all the clothes he could wear without dan 
 ger of attracting his landlady's attention, 
 filled his pockets and the crown of his hat 
 with small articles, and fled to Hoboken. 
 
 150 
 
IX 
 
 AN IDYL, OF PLAIN PEOPLE 
 
 Hilda had not spent her nineteen years 
 in the glare of the Spartan publicity in 
 which the masses live without establishing 
 a character. Just as she knew all the good 
 points and bad in all the people of that 
 community, so they knew all hers, and 
 therefore knew what it was possible for 
 her to do and what impossible. And if a 
 baseless lie is swift of foot where every 
 body minutely scrutinizes everybody else, 
 it is also scant of breath. Sophie's scandal 
 soon dwindled to a whisper and expired, 
 and the kindlier and probable explanation 
 of Hilda's wan face and downcast eyes 
 was generally accepted. 
 
 Her code of morals and her method of 
 dealing with moral questions were those 
 
 151 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 of all the people about her strict, severe, 
 primitive. Feuerstein was a cheat, a trai 
 tor. She cast him out of her heart cast 
 him out at once and utterly and for ever. 
 She could think of him only with shame. 
 And it seemed to her that she was herself 
 no longer pure she had touched pitch; 
 how could she be undefiled? 
 
 She accepted these conclusions and went 
 about her work, too busy to indulge in 
 hysteria of remorse, repining, self-exami 
 nation. 
 
 She avoided Otto, taking care not to be 
 left alone with him when he called on Sun 
 days, and putting Sophie between him and 
 her when he came up to them in the 
 Square. But Otto was awaiting his 
 chance, and when it came, plunged boldly 
 into his heart-subject and floundered 
 bravely about. "I don't like to see you so 
 sad, Hilda. Isn't there any chance for 
 me? Can't things be as they used to be?" 
 
 152 
 
AN IDYL OF PLAIN PEOPLE 
 
 Hilda shook her head sadly. "I'm never 
 going to marry," she said. "You must find 
 some one else." 
 
 "It's you or nobody. I said that when 
 we were in school together and I'll stick 
 to it." His eyes confirmed his words. 
 
 "You mustn't, Otto. You make me feel 
 as if I were spoiling your life. And if you 
 knew, you wouldn't want to marry me." 
 
 "I don't care. I always have, and I al 
 ways will." 
 
 "I suppose I ought to tell you," she 
 said, half to herself. She turned to him 
 suddenly, and, with flushed cheeks and 
 eyes that shifted, burst out: "Otto, he was 
 a married man!" 
 
 "But you didn't know.'' 
 
 "It doesn't change the way I feel. You 
 might any man might throw it up to 
 me. And sooner or later, everybody'll 
 know. No man would want a girl that had 
 had a scandal like that on her." 
 
 153 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 "I would," he said, "and I do. And it 
 isn't a scandal." 
 
 Some one joined them and he had no 
 chance to continue until the following 
 Sunday, when Heiligs and Brauners went 
 together to the Bronx for a half-holiday. 
 They could not set out until their shops 
 closed, at half -past twelve, and they had 
 to be back at five to reopen for the Sun 
 day supper customers. They lunched un 
 der the trees in the yard of a German inn, 
 and a merry party they were. 
 
 Hilda forgot to keep up her pretense 
 that her healing wounds were not healing 
 and never would heal. She teased Otto 
 and even flirted with him. This elevated 
 her father and his mother to hilarity. 
 They were two very sensible young-old 
 people, with a keen sense of humor the 
 experience of age added to the simplicity 
 and gaiety of youth. 
 
 You would have paused to admire and 
 
 154, 
 
They lunched under the trees Page 154 
 
AN IDYL OF PLAIN PEOPLE 
 
 envy had you passed that way and looked 
 in under the trees, as they clinked glasses 
 and called one to another and went off into 
 gales of mirth over nothing at all. What 
 laughter is so gay as laughter at nothing 
 at all? Any one must laugh when there 
 is something to laugh at; but to laugh 
 just because one must have an outlet for 
 bubbling spirits there's the test of hap 
 piness ! 
 
 After luncheon they wandered into the 
 woods and soon Otto and Hilda found 
 themselves alone, seated by a little water 
 fall, which in a quiet, sentimental voice 
 suggested that low tones were the proper 
 tones to use in that place. 
 
 "We've known each other always, Hil 
 da," said Otto. "And we know all about 
 each other. Why not dear?" 
 
 She did not speak for several minutes. 
 "You know I haven't any heart to give 
 you," she answered at last. 
 
 155 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 Otto did not know anything of the kind, 
 but he knew she thought so, and he was 
 too intelligent to dispute, when time would 
 settle the question and, he felt sure, 
 would settle it right. So he reached out 
 and took her hand and said: "I'll risk 
 that." 
 
 And they sat watching the waterfall 
 and listening to it, and they were happy 
 in a serious, tranquil way. It filled him 
 with awe to think that he had at last won 
 her. As for her, she was looking forward, 
 without illusions, without regrets, to a life 
 of work and content beside this strong, 
 loyal, manly man who protested little, but 
 never failed her or any one else. 
 
 On the way home in the train she told 
 her mother, and her mother told her fa 
 ther. He, then and there, to the great de 
 light and pleasure of the others in the car, 
 rose up and embraced and kissed first his 
 daughter, then Otto and then Otto's 
 
 156 
 
AN IDYL OF PLAIN PEOPLE 
 
 mother. And every once in a while he 
 beamed down the line of his party and 
 said: "This is a happy day!" 
 
 And he made them all come into the sit 
 ting-room back of the shop. "Wait here," 
 he commanded. "No one must move !" 
 
 He went down to the cellar, presently 
 to reappear with a dusty bottle of Johan- 
 nisberger Cabinet. He pointed proudly to 
 the seal. "Bronze!" he exclaimed. "It is 
 wine like gold. It must be drunk slowly." 
 He drew the cork and poured the wine 
 with great ceremony, and they all drank 
 with much touching of glasses and bow 
 ing and exchanging of good wishes, now 
 in German, now in English, again in both. 
 And the last toast, the one drunk with the 
 greatest enthusiasm, was Brauner's favor 
 ite famous "Arbeit und Liebe und 
 Heim!" 
 
 From that time forth Hilda began to 
 look at Otto from a different point of 
 157 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 view. And everything depends on point 
 of view. 
 
 Then the house in which Schwartz and 
 Heilig had their shop was burned. And 
 when their safe was drawn from the ruins, 
 they found that their insurance had ex 
 pired four days before the fire. It was 
 Schwartz's business to look after the insur 
 ance, but Otto had never before failed to 
 oversee. His mind had been in such con 
 fusion that he had forgotten. 
 
 He stared at the papers, stunned by the 
 disaster. Schwartz wrung his hands and 
 burst into tears. "I saw that you were in 
 trouble," he wailed, "and that upset me. 
 It's my fault. I've ruined us both." 
 
 There was nothing left of their business 
 or capital, nothing but seven hundred dol 
 lars in debts to the importers of whom they 
 bought. 
 
 Heilig shook off his stupor after a few 
 
 158 
 
AN IDYL OF PLAIN PEOPLE 
 
 minutes. "No matter," he said. "What's 
 past is past." 
 
 He went straightway over to Second 
 Avenue to the shop of Geishener, the 
 largest delicatessen dealer in New York. 
 "I've been burned out," he explained. "I 
 must get something to do." 
 
 Geishener offered him a place at eleven 
 dollars a week. "I'll begin in the morn 
 ing," said Otto. Then he went to Paul 
 Brauner. 
 
 "When will you open up again?" asked 
 Brauner. 
 
 "Not for a long time, several years. 
 Everything's gone and I've taken a place 
 with Geishener. I came to say that that 
 I can't marry your daughter." 
 
 Brauner did not know what answer to 
 make. He liked Otto and had confidence 
 in him. But the masses of the people build 
 their little fortunes as coral insects build 
 their islands. And Hilda was getting 
 
 159 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 along why, she would be twenty in four 
 months. "I don't know. I don't know." 
 Brauner rubbed his head in embarrass 
 ment and perplexity. "It's bad very 
 bad. And everything was running so 
 smoothly." 
 
 Hilda came in. Both men looked at her 
 guiltily. "What is it?" she asked. And if 
 they had not been mere men they would 
 have noticed a change in her face, a great 
 change, very wonderful and beautiful to 
 see. 
 
 "I came to release you," said Otto. 
 "I've got nothing left and a lot of debts. 
 I" 
 
 "Yes I know," interrupted Hilda. 
 She went up to him and put her arm round 
 his neck. "We'll have to begin at the bot 
 tom," she said with a gentle, cheerful 
 smile. 
 
 Brauner pretended that he heard some 
 one calling him from the shop. "Yes 
 160 
 
AN IDYL OF PLAIN PEOPLE 
 
 right away!" he shouted. And when he 
 was alone in the shop he wiped his eyes, not 
 before a large tear had blistered the top 
 sheet of a pile of wrapping paper. 
 
 "I know you don't care for me as as" 
 Otto was standing uneasily, his eyes 
 down and his face red. "It was hard 
 enough for you before. Now I couldn't 
 let you do it dear." 
 
 "You can't get rid of me so easily," she 
 said. "I know I'm getting along and I 
 won't be an old maid." 
 
 He paid no attention to her raillery. "I 
 haven't got anything to ask you to share," 
 he went on. "I've been working ever since 
 I was eleven and that's fourteen years 
 to get what I had. And it's all gone. 
 It'll take several years to pay off my 
 debts, and mother must be supported. No 
 I've got to give it up." 
 
 "Won't you marry me, Otto?" She put 
 her arms round his neck. 
 161 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 His lips trembled and his voice broke. 
 "I can't let you do it, Hilda." 
 
 "Very well." She pretended to sigh. 
 "But you must come back this evening. I 
 want to ask you again." 
 
 "Yes, I'll come. But you can't change 
 
 me." 
 
 He went, and she sat at the table, with 
 her elbows on it and her face between her 
 hands, until her father came in. Then she 
 said: "We're going to be married next 
 week. And I want two thousand dollars. 
 We'll give you our note." 
 
 Brauner rubbed his face violently. 
 
 "We're going to start a delicatessen," 
 she continued, "in the empty store where 
 Bischoff was. It'll take two thousand dol 
 lars to start right." 
 
 "That's a good deal of money," ob 
 jected her father. 
 
 "You only get three and a half per 
 cent, in the savings bank," replied Hilda. 
 162 
 
AN IDYL OF PLAIN PEOPLE 
 
 "We'll give you six. You know it'll be 
 safe Otto and I together can't fail to do 
 well." 
 
 Brauner reflected. "You can have the 
 money," he said. 
 
 She went up the Avenue humming soft 
 ly one of Heine's love songs, still with that 
 wonderful, beautiful look in her eyes. She 
 stopped at the tenement with the vacant 
 store. The owner, old man Schulte, was 
 sweeping the sidewalk. He Had an income 
 of fifteen thousand a year; but he held 
 that he needed exercise, that sweeping was 
 good exercise, and that it was stupid for a 
 man, simply because he was rich, to stop 
 taking exercise or to take it only in some 
 form which had no useful side. 
 
 "Good morning," said Hilda. "What 
 rent do you ask for this store?" 
 
 "Sixty dollars a month/* answered the 
 old man, continuing his sweeping. "Taxes 
 are up, but rents are down.' 5 
 163 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 "Not with you, I guess. Otto Heilig 
 and I are going to get married and open 
 a delicatessen. But sixty dollars a month 
 is too much. Good morning." And she 
 went on. 
 
 Schulte leaned on his broom. "What's 
 your hurry?" he called. "You can't get as 
 good a location as this." 
 
 Hilda turned, but seemed to be listening 
 from politeness rather than from interest. 
 "We can't pay more than forty," she an 
 swered, starting on her way again. 
 
 "I might let you have it for fifty," 
 Schulte called after her, "if you didn't 
 want any fixing up." 
 
 "It'd have to be fixed up," said Hilda, 
 halting again. "But I don't care much 
 for the neighborhood. There are too many 
 delicatessens here now." 
 
 She went on more rapidly and the old 
 man resumed his sweeping, muttering 
 crossly into his long, white beard. As she 
 
 164 
 
AN IDYL OF PLAIN PEOPLE 
 
 came down the other side of the street half 
 an hour later, she was watching Schulte 
 from the corner of her eye. He was lean 
 ing on his broom, watching her. Seeing 
 that she was going to pass without stop 
 ping he called to her and went slowly 
 across the street. "You would make good 
 tenants," he said. "I had to sue Bischoff. 
 You can have it for forty if you'll pay 
 for the changes you want you really 
 won't want any." 
 
 "I was looking at it early this morn 
 ing," replied Hilda. "There'll have to be 
 at least two hundred dollars spent. But 
 then I've my eye on another place." 
 
 "Forty's no rent at all," grumbled the 
 old'man, pulling at his whiskers. 
 
 "I can get a store round in Seventh 
 Street for thirty-five and that includes 
 three rooms at the back. You've got only 
 one room at the back." 
 
 "There's a kitchen, too," said Schulte. 
 
 165 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 "A kitchen? Oh, you mean that closet." 
 
 "'Til let you have it for forty, with fifty 
 the second year." 
 
 "No, forty for two years. We can't pay 
 more. We're just starting, and expenses 
 must be kept down." 
 
 "Well, forty then. You are nice people 
 hard workers. I want to see you get 
 on." The philanthropic old man returned 
 to his sweeping. "Always the way, deal 
 ing with a woman," he growled into his 
 beard. "They don't know the value of 
 anything. Well, I'll get my money any 
 way, and that's a point." 
 
 She spent the day shopping and by 
 half -past five had her arrangements al 
 most completed. And she told every one 
 about the coming marriage and the new 
 shop and asked them to spread the news. 
 "We'll be open for business next Satur 
 day a week," she said. "Give us a trial." 
 
 By nightfall Otto was receiving con- 
 166 
 
AN IDYL OF PLAIN PEOPLE 
 
 gratulations. He protested, denied, But 
 people only smiled and winked. "You're 
 not so sly as you think," they said. "No 
 doubt she promised to keep it quiet, but 
 you know how it is with a woman." 
 
 When he called at Brauner's at seven 
 he was timid about going in. "They've 
 heard the story," he said to himself, "and 
 they must think I went crazy and told it." 
 
 She had been bold enough all day, but 
 she was shy, now that the time had come to 
 face him and confess she had been a little 
 shy with him underneath ever since she had 
 suddenly awakened to the fact that he was 
 a real hero in spite of his keeping a shop 
 just like everybody else and making no 
 pretenses. He listened without a word. 
 
 "You can't back out now," she ended. 
 
 Still he was silent. "Are you angry at 
 me?" she asked timidly. 
 
 He could not speak. He put his arms 
 round her and pressed his face into her 
 167 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 waving black hair. "My Hilda," he said 
 in a low voice. And she felt his blood beat 
 ing very fast, and she understood. 
 
 "Arbeit und Liebe und Heim" she 
 quoted slowly and softly. 
 
 168 
 
MR. FEUERSTEIN IS CONSISTENT 
 
 The next day Mr. Feuerstein returned 
 from exile. It is always disillusioning to 
 inspect the unheroic details of the life of 
 that favorite figure with romancers the 
 soldier of fortune. Of Mr. Feuerstein's 
 six weeks in Hoboken it is enough to say 
 that they were weeks of storm and stress 
 wretched lodgments in low boarding- 
 houses, odd jobs at giving recitations in 
 beer halls, undignified ejectments for 
 drunkenness and failure to pay, borrow 
 ings which were removed from frank 
 street-begging only in his imagination. 
 He sank very low indeed, but it must 
 be recorded to the credit of his con 
 sistency that he never even contemplat 
 ed the idea of working for a living. 
 169 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 And now here he was, back in New York, 
 with Hoboken an exhausted field, with no 
 resources, no hopes, no future that his 
 brandy-soaked brain could discern. 
 
 His mane was still golden and bushy; 
 but it was ragged and too long in front 
 of the ears and also on his neck. His face 
 still expressed insolence and vanity; but 
 it had a certain tragic bitterness, as if it 
 were trying to portray the emotions of a 
 lofty spirit flinging defiance at destiny 
 from a slough of despair. It was plain 
 that he had been drinking heavily the 
 whites of his eyes were yellow and blood 
 shot, the muscles of his eyelids and mouth 
 twitched disagreeably. His romantic hat 
 and collar and graceful suit could endure 
 with good countenance only the most cas 
 ual glance of the eye. 
 
 Mr. Feuerstein had come to New York 
 to perform a carefully-planned last act in 
 his life-drama, one that would send the 
 170 
 
" Mr. Feuerstein ! " she exclaimed Page 171 
 
FEUERSTEIN IS CONSISTENT 
 
 curtain down amid tears and plaudits for 
 Mr. Feuerstein, the central figure, en 
 wrapped in a somber and baleful blaze of 
 glory. He had arranged everything ex 
 cept such details as must be left to the in 
 spiration of the moment. He was impa 
 tient for the curtain to rise besides, he 
 had empty pockets and might be prevent 
 ed from his climax by a vulgar arrest for 
 vagrancy. 
 
 At one o'clock Hilda was in her father's 
 shop alone. The rest of the family were 
 at the midday dinner. As she bent over 
 the counter, near the door, she was filling 
 a sheet of wrapping paper with figures 
 calculations in connection with the new 
 business. A shadow fell across her paper 
 and she looked up. She shrank and 
 clasped her hands tightly against her bos 
 om. "Mr. Feuerstein!" she exclaimed in 
 a low, agitated voice. 
 
 He stood silent, his face ghastly as if 
 171 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 he were very ill. His eyes, sunk deep in 
 blue-black sockets, burned into hers with 
 an intensity that terrified her. She began 
 slowly to retreat. 
 
 "Do not fly from me," he said in a hol 
 low voice, leaning against the counter 
 weakly. "I have come only for a moment. 
 Then you will see me never again!" 
 
 She paused and watched him. His ex 
 pression, his tone, his words filled her with 
 pity for him. 
 
 "You hate me," he went on. "You ab 
 hor me. It is just just! Yet" he looked 
 at her with passionate sadness "it was be 
 cause I loved you that I deceived you. 
 Because I loved you!" 
 
 "You must go away," said Hilda, 
 pleading rather than commanding. 
 "You've done me enough harm." 
 
 "I shall harm you no more." He drew 
 himself up in gloomy majesty. "I have 
 finished my life. I am bowing my f are- 
 
 172 
 
FEUERSTEIN IS CONSISTENT 
 
 well. Another instant, and I shall vanish 
 into the everlasting night." 
 
 "That would be cowardly!" exclaimed 
 Hilda. She was prof oundly moved. "You 
 have plenty to live for." 
 
 "Do you forgive me, Hilda?" He gave 
 her one of his looks of tragic eloquence. 
 
 "Yes I forgive you. 5 ' 
 
 He misunderstood the gentleness of her 
 voice. "She loves me still!" he said to him 
 self. "We shall die together and our 
 names will echo down the ages." He 
 looked burningly at her and said: "I was 
 mad mad with love for you. And when 
 I realized that I had lost you, I went 
 down, down, down. God! What have I 
 not suffered for your sake, Hilda!" As 
 he talked he convinced himself, pictured 
 himself to himself as having been drawn 
 on by a passion such as had ruined many 
 others of the great of earth. 
 
 "That's all past now." She spoke im- 
 173 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 patiently, irritated against herself because 
 she was not hating him. "I don't care to 
 hear any more of that kind of talk." 
 
 A customer came in, and while Hilda 
 was husy Mr. Feuerstein went to the rear 
 counter. On a chopping block lay a knife 
 with a long, thin blade, ground to a fine 
 edge and a sharp point. He began to play 
 with it, and presently, with a sly, almost 
 insane glance to assure himself that she 
 was not seeing, slipped it into the right 
 outside pocket of his coat. The customer 
 left and he returned to the front of the 
 shop and stood with just the breadth of 
 the end of the narrow counter between him 
 and her. 
 
 "It's all over for me," he began. "Your 
 love has failed me. There is nothing left. 
 I shall fling myself through the gates of 
 death. I shall be forgotten. And you will 
 live on and laugh and not remember that 
 you ever had such love as mine." 
 174 
 
FEUERSTEIN IS CONSISTENT 
 
 Another customer entered. Mr. Feuer- 
 stein again went to the rear of the space 
 outside the counters. "She loves me. She 
 will gladly die with me," he muttered. 
 "First into her heart, then into mine, and 
 we shall be at peace, dead, as lovers and 
 heroes die!" 
 
 When they were again alone, he ad 
 vanced and began to edge round the end 
 of the counter. She was no longer look 
 ing at him, did not note his excitement, 
 was thinking only of how to induce him to 
 go. "Hilda," he said, "I have one last re 
 quest a dying man's request " 
 
 The counter was no longer between 
 thenir He was within three feet of her. 
 His right hand was in his coat pocket, 
 grasping the knife. His eyes began to 
 blaze and he nerved himself to seize her 
 
 Both heard her father's voice in the hall 
 leading to the sitting-room. "You must 
 go," she cried, hastily retreating. 
 175 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 "Hilda," he pleaded rapidly, "there is 
 something I must say to you. I can not 
 say it here. Come over to Meinert's as soon 
 as you can. I shall be in the sitting-room. 
 Just for a moment, Hilda. It might save 
 my life. If not that, it certainly would 
 make my death happier." 
 
 Brauner was advancing into the shop 
 and his lowering face warned Mr. Feuer- 
 stein not to linger. With a last, appealing 
 look at Hilda he departed. 
 
 "What was lie doing here?" growled 
 Brauner. 
 
 "He'd just come in," answered Hilda 
 absently. "He won't bother us any more." 
 
 "If he comes again, don't speak to him," 
 said Brauner in the commanding voice 
 that sounded so fierce and meant so little. 
 "Just call me or August." 
 
 Hilda could not thrust him out of her 
 mind. His looks, his tones, his dramatic 
 melancholy saddened her; and his last 
 176 
 
FEUERSTEIN IS CONSISTENT 
 
 words rang in her ears. She no longer 
 loved him; but she had loved him. She 
 could not think of him as a stranger and 
 an enemy there might be truth in his 
 plea that he had in some mysterious way 
 fallen through love for her. She might 
 be able to save him. 
 
 Almost mechanically she left the shop, 
 went to Sixth Street and to the "family 
 entrance" of Meinert's beer-garden. She 
 went into the little anteroom and, with 
 her hand on the swinging door leading to 
 the sitting-room, paused like one waking 
 from a dream. 
 
 "I must be crazy," she said half aloud. 
 "He's a scoundrel and no good can come 
 of my seeing him. What would Otto think 
 of me? What am I doing here?" And she 
 hastened away, hoping that no one had 
 seen her. 
 
 Mr. Feuerstein was seated at a table a 
 few feet from where she had paused and 
 177 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 turned back. He had come in half an 
 hour before and had ordered and drunk 
 three glasses of cheap, fiery brandy. As 
 the moments passed his mood grew wilder 
 and more somber. "She has failed me!" 
 he exclaimed. He called for pen, ink and 
 paper. He wrote rapidly and, when he 
 had finished, declaimed his production, 
 punctuating the sentences with looks and 
 gestures. His voice gradually broke, and 
 he uttered the last words with sobs and 
 with the tears streaming down his cheeks. 
 He signed his name with a flourish, added 
 a postscript. He took a stamped envelope 
 from his pocket, sealed the letter, ad 
 dressed it and laid it before him on the 
 table. "The presence of death inspired 
 me," he said, looking at his production 
 with tragic pride. And he called for an 
 other drink. 
 
 When the waiter brought it, he lifted it 
 high and, standing up, bowed as if some 
 178 
 
FEUERSTEIN IS CONSISTENT 
 
 one were opposite him at the table. "I 
 drink to you, Death!" he said. The waiter 
 stared in open-mouthed astonishment, and 
 with a muttered, "He's luny!" backed 
 from the room. 
 
 He sat again and drew the knife from 
 his pocket and slid his finger along the 
 edge. "The key to my sleeping-room," he 
 muttered, half imagining that a vast audi 
 ence was watching with bated breath. 
 
 The waiter entered and he hid the knife. 
 
 "Away!" he exclaimed, frowning heav 
 ily. "I wish to be alone." 
 
 "Mr. Meinert says you must pay," said 
 the waiter. "Four drinks sixty cents." 
 
 Mr. Feuerstein laughed sardonically. 
 "Pay! Ha-ha! Always pay! Another 
 drink, wretch, and I shall pay for all for 
 all!" He laughed, with much shaking of 
 the shoulders and rolling of the eyes. 
 
 When the waiter had disappeared he 
 muttered: "I can wait no longer." He 
 179 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 took the knife, held it at arm's length, 
 blade down. He turned his head to the 
 left and closed his eyes. Then with a sud 
 den tremendous drive he sent the long, 
 narrow blade deep into his neck. The 
 blood spurted out, his breath escaped from 
 between his lips with long, shuddering, 
 subsiding hisses. His body stiffened, col 
 lapsed, rolled to the floor. 
 
 Mr. Feuerstein was dead with empty 
 pockets and the drinks unpaid for. 
 
 180 
 
XI 
 
 MR. FEUERSTEIN'S CLIMAX 
 
 When Otto came to see Hilda that even 
 ing she was guiltily effusive in her greet 
 ing and made up her mind that, as soon as 
 they were alone, she must tell him what 
 she had all but done. But first there was 
 the game of pinochle which Otto must lose 
 to her father. As they sat at their game 
 she was at the zither-table, dreamily play 
 ing May Breezes as she watched Otto and 
 thought how much more comfortable she 
 was in his strong, loyal love than in the 
 unnatural strain of Mr. Feuerstein's ec 
 stasies. " 'Work and love and home,' " she 
 murmured, in time to her music. "Yes, 
 father is right. They are the best." 
 
 August came in and said: "Hilda, here 
 are two men who want to see you." 
 
 181 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 As he spoke, he was pushed aside and 
 she, her father and Otto sat staring at the 
 two callers. They were obviously detect 
 ives "plain clothes men" from the Fifth- 
 Street Station House. There could be no 
 chance of mistake about those police mus 
 taches and jaws, those wide, square-toed, 
 police shoes. 
 
 "My name is Casey and this is my side- 
 partner, Mr. O'Rourke," said the shorter 
 and fatter of the two as they seated them 
 selves without waiting to be asked. Casey 
 took off his hat; O'Rourke's hand hesi 
 tated at the brim, then drew his hat more 
 firmly down upon his forehead. "Sorry to 
 break in on your little party," Casey went 
 on, "but the Cap'n sent us to ask the young 
 lady a few questions." 
 
 Hilda grew pale and her father and 
 Otto looked frightened. 
 
 "Do you know an actor named Feuer- 
 stein?" asked Casey. 
 
 182 
 
MR. FEUERSTEIN'S CLIMAX 
 
 Hilda trembled. She could not speak. 
 She nodded assent. 
 
 "Did you see him to-day?" 
 
 "Yes," almost whispered Hilda. 
 
 Casey looked triumphantly at 
 O'Rourke. Otto half rose, then sank back 
 again. "Where did you see him?" asked 
 Casey. 
 
 "Here." 
 
 "Where else?" 
 
 Hilda nervously laced and unlaced her 
 fingers. "Only here," she answered after 
 a pause. 
 
 "Ah, yes you did. Come now, lady. 
 Speak the truth. You saw him at Mein- 
 ert's." 
 
 Hilda started violently. The detectives 
 exchanged significant glances. "No," she 
 protested. "I saw him only here." 
 
 "Were you out of the store this after 
 noon?" 
 
 A long pause, then a faint "Yes." 
 
 183 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 "Where did you go?" Casey added. 
 
 The blood flew to Hilda's face, then left 
 it. "To Meinert's," she answered. "But 
 only as far as the door." 
 
 "Oh!" said Casey sarcastically, and 
 O'Rourke laughed. "It's no use to hold 
 back, lady," continued Casey. "We know 
 all about your movements. You went in 
 Meinert's in at the family entrance." 
 
 "Yes," replied Hilda. She was shaking 
 as if she were having a chill. "But just 
 to the door, then home again." 
 
 "Now, that won't do," said Casey 
 roughly. "You'd better tell the whole 
 story." 
 
 "Tell them aU about it, Hilda," inter 
 posed her father in an agonized tone. 
 "Don't hold back anything." 
 
 "Oh father Otto it was nothing. I 
 didn't go in. He Mr. Feuerstein came 
 here, and he looked so sick, and he begged 
 me to come over to Meinert's for a minute. 
 
 184 
 
MR. FEUERSTEIN'S CLIMAX 
 
 He said he had something to say to me. 
 And then I went. But at the door I got 
 to thinking about all he'd done, and I 
 wouldn't go in. I just came back home." 
 
 "What was it that he had done, lady?" 
 asked O'Rourke. 
 
 "I won't tell," Hilda flashed out, and 
 she started up. "It's nobody's business. 
 Why do you ask me all these questions? I 
 won't answer any more." 
 
 "Now, now, lady," said Casey. "Just 
 keep cool. When you went, what did you 
 take a knife from the counter for?" 
 
 "A knife!" Hilda gasped, and she 
 would have fallen to the floor had not Otto 
 caught her. 
 
 "That settles it!" said Casey, in an un 
 dertone to O'Rourke. "She's it, all right. 
 I guess she's told us enough?" 
 
 O'Rourke nodded. "The Cap'n'll get 
 the rest out of her when he puts her 
 through the third degree.*' 
 
 185 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 They rose and Casey said, with the 
 roughness of one who is afraid of his in 
 ward impulses to gentleness: "Come, 
 lady, get on your things. You're going 
 along with us." 
 
 "No! No!" she cried in terror, flinging 
 herself into her father's arms. 
 
 Brauner blazed up. "What do you 
 mean?" he demanded, facing the detect 
 ives. 
 
 "You'll find out soon enough," said 
 Casey in a blustering tone. "The less fuss 
 you make, the better it'll be for you. She's 
 got to go, and that's all there is to it." 
 
 "This is an outrage," interrupted Otto, 
 rushing between Hilda and the detectives. 
 "You daren't take her without telling her 
 why. You can't treat us like dogs." 
 
 "Drop it!" said Casey contemptuously. 
 "Drop it, Dutchy. I guess we know what 
 we're about." 
 
 "Yes and I know what I'm about," 
 
 186 
 
MR. FEUERSTEIN'S CLIMAX 
 
 exclaimed Otto. "Do you know Riordan, 
 the district leader here? Well, he's a 
 friend of mine. If we haven't got any 
 rights you police are bound to respect, 
 thank God, we've got a 'pull'." 
 
 "That's a bluff," said Casey, but his 
 tone was less insolent. "Well, if you must 
 know, she's wanted for the murder of Carl 
 Feuerstein." 
 
 Hilda flung her arms high above her 
 head and sank into a chair and buried her 
 face. "It's a dream!" she moaned. "Wake 
 me wake me !" 
 
 Otto and Brauner looked each at the 
 other in horror. "Murder!" whispered 
 Brauner hoarsely. "My Hilda murder!" 
 
 Otto went to Hilda and put his arms 
 about her tightly and kissed her. 
 
 "She's got to come," said Casey angrily. 
 "Now, will she go quietly or shall I call 
 the wagon?" 
 
 This threat threw them into a panic. 
 
 187 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 "You'd better go," said Otto in an under 
 tone to Hilda. "Don't be frightened, dear. 
 You're innocent and they can't prove you 
 guilty. You're not poor and friendless." 
 
 At the pressure of his arms Hilda lifted 
 her face, her eyes shining at him through 
 her tears. And her heart went out to him 
 as never before. From that moment it was 
 his, all his. "My love, my dear love," she 
 said. She went to the closet and took out 
 her hat. She put it on before the mirror 
 over the mantelpiece. "I'm ready," she 
 said quietly. 
 
 In the street, she walked beside Casey; 
 her father and Otto were close behind with 
 O'Rourke. They turned into Sixth Street. 
 Half a block down, in front of Meinert's, 
 a crowd was surging, was filling sidewalk 
 and street. When they came to the edge of 
 it, Casey suddenly said "In here" and took 
 her by the arm. All went down a long and 
 winding passage, across an open court to 
 
 188 
 
MR. FEUERSTEIN'S CLIMAX 
 
 a back door where a policeman in uniform 
 was on guard. 
 
 "Did you get her, Mike?" said the po 
 liceman to Casey. 
 
 "Here she is," replied Casey. "She 
 didn't give no trouble." 
 
 The policeman opened the door. He 
 let Casey, Hilda and O'Rourke pass. He 
 thrust back Brauner and Otto. "No, you 
 don't," he said. 
 
 "Let us in!" commanded Otto, beside 
 himself with rage. 
 
 "Not much! Get back!" He had closed 
 the door and was standing between it and 
 them, one hand meaningly upon the han 
 dle of his sheathed club. 
 
 "I am her father," half -pleaded, half- 
 protested Brauner. 
 
 "Cap'n's orders," said the policeman in 
 a gentler voice. "The best thing you can 
 do is to go to the station house and wait 
 there. You won't get to see her here." 
 
 189 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 Meanwhile Casey, still holding Hilda 
 by the arm, was guiding her along a dark 
 hall. When they touched a door he threw 
 it open. He pushed her roughly into the 
 room. For a few seconds the sudden blaze 
 of light blinded her. Then 
 
 Before her, stretched upon a table, was 
 Mr. Feuerstein. She shrank back and 
 gazed at him with wide, fascinated eyes. 
 His face was turned toward her, his eyes 
 half -open; he seemed to be regarding her 
 with a glassy, hateful stare the "curse 
 in a dead man's eye." His chin was fallen 
 back and down, and his lips exposed his 
 teeth in a hideous grin. And then she 
 saw Sticking upright from his throat 
 was a knife, the knife from their counter. 
 It seemed to her to be trembling as if still 
 agitated from the hand that had fiercely 
 struck out his life. 
 
 "My God!" moaned Hilda, sinking 
 down to the floor and hiding her face, 
 190 
 
ME. FEUERSTEIN'S CLIMAX 
 
 As she crouched there, Casey said cheer 
 fully to Captain Hanlon, "You see she's 
 guilty all right, Cap'n." 
 
 Hanlon took his cigar from between his 
 teeth and nodded. At this a man sitting 
 near him burst out laughing. Hanlon 
 scowled at him. 
 
 The man Doctor Wharton, a deputy 
 coroner laughed again. "I suppose you 
 think she acts guilty/' he said to Hanlon. 
 
 "Any fool could see that," retorted 
 Hanlon. 
 
 "Any fool would see it, you'd better 
 say," said Doctor Wharton. "No matter 
 how she took it, you fellows would wag 
 your heads and say 'Guilty.' ' 
 
 Hanlon looked uneasily at Hilda, fear 
 ing she would draw encouragement from 
 Wharton's words. But Hilda was still 
 moaning. "Lift her up and set her in a 
 chair," he said to Casey. 
 
 Hilda recovered herself somewhat and 
 191 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 sat before the captain, her eyes down, her 
 fluttering hands loose in her lap. "What 
 was the trouble between you and him?" 
 Hanlon asked her presently in a not un 
 kindly tone. 
 
 "Must I tell?" pleaded Hilda, looking 
 piteously at the captain. "I don't know 
 anything about this except that he came 
 into our store and told me he was going 
 to to " 
 
 She looked at Feuerstein's dead face 
 and shivered. And as she looked, memo 
 ries flooded her, drowning resentment and 
 fear. She rose, went slowly up to him; 
 she laid her hand softly upon his brow, 
 pushed back his long, yellow hair. The 
 touch of her fingers seemed to smooth the 
 wild, horrible look from his features. As 
 she gazed down at him the tears welled 
 into her eyes. "I won't talk against him," 
 she said simply. "He's dead it's all over 
 and past." 
 
 192 
 
MR. FEUERSTEIN'S CLIMAX 
 
 "She ought to go on the stage," growled 
 Casey. 
 
 But Wharton said in an unsteady voice, 
 "That's right, Miss. They can't force you 
 to talk. Don't say a word until you get a 
 lawyer." 
 
 Hanlon gave him a furious look. 
 "Don't you meddle in this," he said threat 
 eningly. 
 
 Wharton laughed. "The man killed 
 himself," he replied. "I can tell by the 
 slant of the wound. And I don't propose 
 to stand by and see you giving your third 
 degree to this little girl." 
 
 "We've got the proof, I tell you," said 
 Hanlon. "We've got a witness who saw 
 her do it or at least saw her here when 
 she says she wasn't here." 
 
 Wharton shrugged his shoulders. 
 "Don't say a word," he said to Hilda. 
 "Get a lawyer." 
 
 "I don't want a lawyer," she answered. 
 193 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 "I'm not guilty. Why should I get a law 
 yer?" 
 
 "Well, at any rate, do all your talking 
 in court. These fellows will twist every 
 thing you say." 
 
 "Take her to the station house," inter 
 rupted Hanlon. 
 
 "But I'm innocent," said Hilda, clasp 
 ing her hands on her heart and looking 
 appealingly at the captain. 
 
 "Take her along, Casey." 
 
 Casey laid hold of her arm, but she 
 shook him off. They went through the 
 sitting-room of the saloon and out at the 
 side door. When Hilda saw the great 
 crowd she covered her face with her hands 
 and shrank back. "There she is! There 
 she is! They're taking her to the station 
 house!" shouted the crowd. 
 
 Casey closed the door. "We'll have to 
 get the wagon," he said. 
 
 They sat waiting until the patrol wagon 
 
 194 
 
MR. FEUERSTEIN'S CLIMAX 
 
 came. Then Hilda, half -carried by Casey, 
 crossed the sidewalk through a double line 
 of blue coats who fought back the fran 
 tically curious, pushed on by those behind. 
 In the wagon she revived and by the time 
 they reached the station house, seemed 
 calm. Another great crowd was pressing 
 in; she heard cries of "There's the girl 
 that killed him!" She drew herself up 
 haughtily, looked round with defiance, 
 with indignation. 
 
 Her father and Otto rushed forward 
 as soon as she entered the doors. She 
 broke down again. "Take me home! 
 Take me home!" she sobbed. "I've not 
 done anything." The men forgot that 
 they had promised each the other to be 
 calm, and cursed and cried alternately. 
 The matron came, spoke to her gently. 
 "You'll have to go now, child," she said. 
 
 Hilda kissed her father, then she and 
 Otto clasped each the other closely. "It'll 
 195 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 turn out all right, dear," he said. "We're 
 having a streak of bad luck. But our good 
 luck'll be all the better when it comes." 
 
 Strength and hope seemed to pass from 
 him into her. She walked away firmly 
 and the last glimpse they had of her sad 
 sweet young face was a glimpse of a brave 
 little smile trying to break through its 
 gray gloom. But alone in her cell, seated 
 upon the board that was her bed, her dis 
 grace and loneliness and danger took pos 
 session of her. She was a child of the 
 people, brought up to courage and self- 
 reliance. She could be brave and calm be 
 fore false accusers, before staring crowds. 
 But here, with a dim gas-jet revealing the 
 horror of grated bars and iron ceiling, 
 walls and floor 
 
 She sat there, hour after hour, sleep 
 less, tearless, her brain burning, the cries 
 of drunken prisoners in adjoining cells 
 sounding in her ears like the shrieks of 
 196 
 
MR. FEUERSTEIN'S CLIMAX 
 
 the damned. Seconds seemed moments, 
 moments hours. "I'm dreaming," she said 
 aloud at last. She started up and hurled 
 herself against the bars, beating them with 
 her hands. "I must wake or I'll die. Oh, 
 the disgrace ! Oh ! the shame !" 
 
 And he flung herself into a corner of 
 the bench, to dread the time when the 
 darkness and the loneliness would cease to 
 hide her. 
 
 197 
 
XII 
 
 EXIT MR. FEUERSTEIN 
 
 The matron brought her up into the 
 front room of the station house at eight 
 in the morning. Casey looked at her hag 
 gard face with an expression of satisfac 
 tion. "Her nerve's going," he said to the 
 sergeant. "I guess she'll break down and 
 confess to-day." 
 
 They drove her to court in a Black 
 Maria, packed among thieves, drunkards 
 and disorderly characters. Upon her right 
 side pressed a slant-faced youth with a 
 huge nose and wafer-thin, flapping ears, 
 who had snatched a purse in Houston 
 Street. On her left, lolling against her, 
 was an old woman in dirty calico, with a 
 faded black bonnet ludicrously awry upon 
 scant white hair a drunkard released 
 
 198 
 
EXIT MR. FEUERSTEIN 
 
 from the Island three days before and cer 
 tain to be back there by noon. 
 
 "So you killed him," the old woman said 
 to her with a leer of sympathy and ad 
 miration. 
 
 At this the other prisoners regarded her 
 with curiosity and deference. Hilda made 
 no answer, seemed not to have heard. Her 
 eyes were closed and her face was rigid 
 and gray as stone. 
 
 "She needn't be afraid at all," declared 
 a young woman in black satin, address 
 ing the company at large. "No jury'd 
 ever convict as good-looking a girl as 
 her." 
 
 "Good business!" continued the old 
 woman. "I'd 'a' killed mine if I could 'a' 
 got at him forty years ago." She nod 
 ded vigorously and cackled. Her cackle 
 rose into a laugh, the laugh into a maud 
 lin howl, the howl changing into a kind of 
 song 
 
 199 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 "My love, my love, my love and I we had 
 
 to part, to part! 
 And it broke, it broke, it broke my heart 
 
 it broke my heart!'' 
 
 "Cork up in there!" shouted the police 
 man from the seat beside the driver. 
 
 The old woman became abruptly silent. 
 Hilda moaned and quivered. Her lips 
 moved. She was murmuring, "I can't 
 stand it much longer I can't. I'll wake 
 soon and see Aunt Greta's picture look 
 ing down at me from the wall and hear 
 mother in the kitchen " 
 
 "Step lively now!" They were at the 
 Essex Market police court; they were 
 filing into the waiting-pen. A lawyer, 
 engaged by her father, came there, and 
 Hilda was sent with him into a little con 
 sultation room. He argued with her in 
 vain. "I'll speak for myself," she said. "If 
 I had a lawyer they'd think I was guilty." 
 
 After an hour the petty offenders had 
 200 
 
EXIT MR. FEUERSTEIN 
 
 been heard and judged. A court officer 
 came to the door and called: "Hilda 
 Brauner!" 
 
 Hilda rose. She seemed unconcerned, 
 so calm was she. Her nerves had reached 
 the point at which nerves refuse to writhe, 
 or even to record sensations of pain. As 
 she came into the dingy, stuffy little court 
 room she didn't note the throng which 
 filled it to the last crowded inch of stand 
 ing-room ; did not note the scores of sym 
 pathetic faces of her anxious, loyal friends 
 and neighbors ; did not even see her father 
 and Otto standing inside the railing, faith 
 and courage in their eyes as they saw her 
 advancing. 
 
 The magistrate studied her over the 
 tops of his glasses, and his look became 
 more and more gentle and kindly. "Come 
 up here on the platform in front of me," 
 he said. 
 
 Hilda took her stand with only the high 
 
 201 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 desk between him and her. The magis 
 trate's tone and his kind, honest, old face 
 reassured her. And just then she felt 
 a pressure at her elbow and heard in 
 Otto's voice : "We're all here. Don't be 
 afraid." 
 
 "Have you counsel a lawyer?" asked 
 the magistrate. 
 
 "No," replied Hilda. "I haven't done 
 anything wrong. I don't need a lawyer." 
 
 The magistrate's eyes twinkled, but he 
 sobered instantly to say, "I warn you that 
 the case against you looks grave. You had 
 better have legal help." 
 
 Hilda looked at him bravely. "I've only 
 the truth to tell," she insisted. "I don't 
 want a lawyer." 
 
 "We'll see," said the magistrate, giving 
 her an encouraging smile. "If it is as you 
 say, you certainly won't need counsel. 
 Your rights are secure here." He looked 
 at Captain Hanlon, who was also on the 
 
 202 
 
We're all here. Don't be afraid " Page 202 
 
EXIT MR. FEUERSTEIN 
 
 platform. "Captain/' said he, "your first 
 witness the man who found the body." 
 
 "Meinert," said the captain in a low 
 tone to a court officer, who called loudly, 
 "Meinert! Meinert!" 
 
 A man stood up in the crowd. "You 
 don't want me!" he shouted, as if he were 
 trying to make himself heard through a 
 great distance instead of a few feet. 
 "You want" 
 
 "Come forward!" commanded the mag 
 istrate sharply, and when Meinert stood 
 before him and beside Hilda and had been 
 sworn, he said, "Now, tell your story." 
 
 "The man Feuerstein," began Mein 
 ert, "came into my place about half -past 
 one yesterday. He looked a little wild 
 as if he'd been drinking or was in trouble. 
 He went back into the sitting-room and I 
 sent in to him and " 
 
 "Did you go in?" 
 
 "No, your Honor." 
 
 203 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 "When did you see him again?" 
 
 "Not till the police came." 
 
 "Stand down. I want evidence, not 
 gossip. Captain Hanlon, who found the 
 body? Do you know?" 
 
 "Your Honor, I understood that Mr. 
 Meinert found it." 
 
 The magistrate frowned at him. Then 
 he said, raising his voice, "Does any one 
 know who found the body?" 
 
 "My man Wielert did," spoke up Mein 
 ert. 
 
 A bleached German boy with a cowlick 
 in the center of his head just above his 
 forehead came up beside. Hilda and was 
 sworn. 
 
 "You found the body?" 
 
 "Yes," said Wielert. He was blinking 
 stupidly and his throat was expanding 
 and contracting with fright. 
 
 "Tell us all you saw and heard and did." 
 
 "I take him the brandy in. And he sit 
 
 204. 
 
EXIT MR. FEUERSTEIN 
 
 and talk to himself. And he ask for paper 
 and ink. And then he write and look 
 round like crazy. And he make limy talk 
 I don't understand. And he speak what 
 he write " 
 
 Captain Hanlon was red and was look 
 ing at Wielert in blank amazement. 
 
 "What did he write?" asked the magis 
 trate. 
 
 "A letter," answered Wielert. "He put 
 it in a envelope with a stamp on it and he 
 write on the back and make it all ready. 
 And then I watch him, and he take out a 
 knife and feel it and speak with it. And 
 I go in and ask him for money." 
 
 "Your Honor, this witness told us 
 nothing of that before," interrupted Han 
 lon. "I understood that the knife " 
 
 "Did you question him?" asked the 
 magistrate. 
 
 "No," replied the captain humbly. And 
 Casey and O'Rourke shook their big, 
 
 205 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 hard-looking heads to indicate that they 
 had not questioned him. 
 
 "I am curious to know what you have 
 done in this case," said the magistrate 
 sternly. "It is a serious matter to take 
 a young girl like this into custody. You 
 police seem unable to learn that you are 
 not the rulers, but the servants of the peo- 
 pie." 
 
 "Your Honor " began Hanlon. 
 
 "Silence!" interrupted the magistrate, 
 rapping on the desk with his gavel. "Pro 
 ceed, Wielert. What kind of knife was 
 it?" 
 
 "The knife in his throat afterward," 
 answered Wielert. "And I hear a sound 
 like steam out a pipe and I go in and 
 see a lady at the street door. She peep 
 through the crack and her face all yellow 
 and her eye big. And she go away." 
 
 Hilda was looking at him calmly. She 
 was the only person in the room who was 
 
 206 
 
EXIT MR. FEUERSTEIN 
 
 not intensely agitated. All eyes were 
 upon her. There was absolute silence. 
 
 "Is that lady here?" asked the magis 
 trate. His voice seemed loud and strained. 
 
 "Yes," said Wielert. "I see her." 
 
 Otto instinctively put his arm about 
 Hilda. Her father was like a leaf in the 
 wind. 
 
 Wielert looked at Hilda earnestly, then 
 let his glance wander over the still court 
 room. He was most deliberate. At last 
 he said, "I see her again." 
 
 "Point her out," said the magistrate 
 it was evidently with an effort that he 
 broke that straining silence. 
 
 "That lady there." Wielert pointed at 
 a woman sitting just outside the inclosure, 
 with her face half -hid by her hand. 
 
 A sigh of relief swelled from the crowd. 
 Paul Brauner sobbed. 
 
 "Why, she's our witness!" exclaimed 
 Hanlon, forgetting himself. 
 207 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 The magistrate rapped sharply, and, 
 looking toward the woman, said, "Stand 
 up, Madam. Officer, assist her!" 
 
 The court officer lifted her to her feet. 
 Her hand dropped and revealed the 
 drawn, twitching face of Sophie Liebers. 
 
 "Your Honor," said Hanlon hurriedly, 
 "that is the woman upon whose statement 
 we made our case. She told us she saw 
 Hilda Brauner coming from the family 
 entrance just before the alarm was given." 
 
 "Are you sure she's the woman you 
 saw?" said the magistrate to Wielert. "Be 
 careful what you say." 
 
 "That's her," answered Wielert. "I 
 see her often. She live across the street 
 from Meinert's." 
 
 "Officer, bring the woman forward," 
 commanded the magistrate. 
 
 Sophie, blue with terror, was almost 
 dragged to the platform beside Hilda. 
 Hilda looked stunned, dazed. 
 208 
 
EXIT MR. FEUERSTEIN 
 
 "Speak out!" ordered the magistrate. 
 "You have heard what this witness testi 
 fied." 
 
 Sophie was weeping violently. "It's all 
 a mistake," she cried in a low, choked 
 voice. "I was scared. I didn't mean to 
 tell the police Hilda was there. I was 
 afraid they'd think I did it if I didn't say 
 something." 
 
 "Tell us what you saw." The magis 
 trate's voice was severe. "We want the 
 whole truth." 
 
 "I was at our window. And I saw 
 Hilda come along and go in at the fam 
 ily entrance over at Meinert's. And I'd 
 seen Mr. Feuerstein go in the front door 
 about an hour before. Hilda came out and 
 went away. She looked so queer that I 
 wanted to see. I ran across the street arid 
 looked in. Mr. Feuerstein was sitting 
 there with a knife in his hand. And all at 
 once he stood up and stabbed himself in 
 209 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 the neck and there was blood and he 
 fell and I ran away." 
 
 "And did the police come to you and 
 threaten you?" asked the magistrate. 
 
 "Your Honor," protested Captain 
 Hanlon with an injured air, ''she came to 
 
 us." 
 
 "Is that true?" asked the magistrate of 
 Sophie. 
 
 Sophie wept loudly. "Your Honor," 
 Hanlon went on, "she came to me and said 
 it was her duty to tell me, though it in 
 volved her friend. She said positively 
 that this girl went in, stayed several min 
 utes, then came out looking very strange, 
 and that immediately afterward there was 
 the excitement. Of course, we believed 
 her." 
 
 "Of course," echoed the magistrate 
 ironically. "It gave you an opportunity 
 for an act of oppression." 
 
 "I didn't mean to get Hilda into 
 210 
 
EXIT MR. FEUERSTEIN 
 
 trouble. I swear I didn't," Sophie ex 
 claimed. "I was scared. I didn't know 
 what I was doing. I swear I didn't!" 
 
 Hilda's look was pity, not anger. "Oh, 
 Sophie," she said brokenly. 
 
 "What did your men do with the letter 
 Feuerstein wrote?" asked the magistrate 
 of Hanlon suspiciously. 
 
 "Your Honor, we " Hanlon looked 
 round nervously. 
 
 Wielert, who had been gradually rising 
 in his own estimation, as he realized the 
 importance of his part in the proceedings, 
 now pushed forward, his face flushed with 
 triumph. "I know where it is," he said 
 eagerly. "When I ran for the police I 
 mail it." 
 
 There was a tumult of hysterical laugh 
 ter, everybody seeking relief from the 
 strain of what had gone before. The 
 magistrate rapped down the noise and 
 called for Doctor Wharton. While he was 
 211 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 giving his technical explanation a note 
 was handed up to the bench. The magis 
 trate read : 
 
 GERMAN THEATER, 3 September. 
 YOUR HONOR I hasten to send you the 
 inclosed letter which I found in my mail 
 this morning. It seems to have an im 
 portant bearing on the hearing in the 
 Feuerstein case, which I see by the papers 
 comes up before you to-day. 
 
 Very truly yours, 
 WILLIAM KONIGSMARCK, 
 
 Manager. 
 
 The magistrate handed the inclosure to 
 a clerk, who was a German. "Read it 
 aloud," he said. And the clerk, after a 
 few moments' preparation, slowly read in 
 English: 
 
 To the Public: 
 
 Before oblivion swallows me one sec 
 ond, I beg ! 
 
 212 
 
EXIT MR. FEUERSTEIN 
 
 I have sinned, but I have expiated. I 
 have lived bravely, fighting adversity and 
 the malice which my superior gifts from 
 nature provoked. I can live no longer with 
 dignity. So, proud and fearless to the last, 
 I accept defeat and pass out. 
 
 I forgive my friends. I forget my ene 
 mies. 
 
 Exit Carl Feuerstein, soldier of for 
 tune, man of the world. A sensitive heart 
 that was crushed by the cruelty of men 
 and the kindness of women has ceased to 
 
 beat. 
 
 CARL FEUERSTEIN. 
 
 P. S. DEAR MR. KONIGSMARCK 
 Please send a copy of the above to the 
 newspapers, English as well as German. 
 
 C.F. 
 
 The magistrate beamed his kindliest 
 upon Hilda. "The charge against you is 
 absurd. Your arrest was a crime. You are 
 free." 
 
 213 
 
THE FORTUNE HUNTER 
 
 Hilda put her hand on Otto's arm. "Let 
 us go," she murmured wearily. 
 
 As they went up the aisle hand in hand 
 the crowd stood and cheered again and 
 again; the magistrate did not touch his 
 gavel he was nodding vigorous ap 
 proval. Hilda held Otto's hand more 
 closely and looked all round. And her face 
 was bright indeed. 
 
 Thus the shadow of Mr. Feuerstein 
 of vanity and false emotion, of pose and 
 pretense, passed from her life. Straight 
 and serene before her lay the pathway of 
 "work and love and home." 
 
 THE END 
 
DATE DUE 
 
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