!it*iciiir 
 LIBRARY 
 INIVERSITY Of 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
"With a sudden cry of protest, protest ag ainst the possibilities of disaster to 
 her hopes that lay within the moment, she took down the receiver." Page 491. 
 
THE MILLS OF 
 MAMMON 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES H. BROWER 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 F. L. WEITZEL 
 
 AND 
 HENDERSON HOWK 
 
 JOLIET, ILL., U. S. A. 
 
 P. H. MURRAY & COMPANY 
 
 1909 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
THE MILLS OP MAMMOI* 
 Copyright, 1909, by 
 
 P. H. MURRAY. 
 [All rights reserved.] 
 
 Published October, 1909. 
 
THE STORY BY CHAPTERS! 
 
 PART I. 
 Chap. Page. 
 
 1. One Side of a Grave Question 9 
 
 2. "Hump s" Daughter 21 
 
 3. A Worker s Home 24 
 
 4. Spies Wanted 31 
 
 5. Joel Takes the Money 36 
 
 6. Charles Augustus Charity List 46 
 
 7. Who Is John Bulman? 55 
 
 8. Martha Moves to Town 64 
 
 9. A Worshiper and a Rebel 68 
 
 10. Moses Finds a Mother 74 
 
 11. The Investigation of Thompson 79 
 
 12. Mother Holcomb Is Circumvented 85 
 
 13. A Mechanic s Vision 92 
 
 14. An Unfinished Chapter 99 
 
 15. The Chapter Finished , Ill 
 
 16. A White Slave Trader . 116 
 
 17. Madame Vaughn s and the "Eagle Club" 122 
 
 18. A White Slave Pen 127 
 
 19. A Tragedy at Madame s 135 
 
 20. "They s Only One Way" 142 
 
 21. Norma Jordan 146 
 
 22. Madame Talks Business 153 
 
 23. "Are You Ready?" 163 
 
 24. The Betrayal 168 
 
 25. Charley Harris Finds a Job 172 
 
 26. The First Alarm 177 
 
 27. A Countryman Held Up 189 
 
 28. Mickey s Religious Experience 204 
 
 29. A Worker s Death 211 
 
 30. Holdon Gives Advice 217 
 
 31. Mickey Introduces Friends 226 
 
 32. The Vision Fades 234 
 
 33. The Ultimate Demand 242 
 
 34. When Jim Lacked Sand 248 
 
 / OJL 
 
4 MILLS OF MAMMON. 
 
 35. A Mock Marriage 253 
 
 36. Joel s Plans 258 
 
 37. Agitators in the Plant 263 
 
 38. Mickey in a New Setting 272 
 
 39 A Hobby and Its Rider 279 
 
 40. Uplift Forces at Work 288 
 
 41. The "Ethical Study Club" 287 
 
 42. Bulman Talks Ethics 293 
 
 43. Yancey Plays a Part 304 
 
 44. Carson "Physical Instructor" 312 
 
 45. What Happened to the Spies 315 
 
 PART II. 
 
 Chap. Page 
 
 1. A Detective Story 327 
 
 2. Joel Leaves Cairo 335 
 
 3. Concerning Charley 341 
 
 4. That Vision Again 344 
 
 5. A Spasm of Virtue 348 
 
 6. The Mill of the Gods Stops 353 
 
 7. In a Texas Town 360 
 
 8. The Murder 3G5 
 
 9. She Wants an Angel 373 
 
 10. Letters and Comment 379 
 
 11. Announcing the Coming of Mr. Wm. Abner 383 
 
 12. An "Iron Angel" 396 
 
 13. The Letter He Wanted 400 
 
 14. Price in the Role of a Burglar 405 
 
 15. Holdon Returns 411 
 
 16. Mickey Meets on Old Friend 415 
 
 17. Lost A Son 419 
 
 18. The Prospective Candidate at a Conference 425 
 
 19. Mickey Meets a Topnotcher 432 
 
 20. A "Hand" at Holdon s 439 
 
 21. The Plotters Meet 445 
 
 22. Out into the Night 452 
 
 23. Fly Boyd s Sudden Departure 456 
 
 24. The Hue and Cry 462 
 
 25. Mr. Abner Prepares to Give Battle 474 
 
 26. They Accept 482 
 
THE ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 "With a sudden cry of protest, protest against the possi 
 bilities of disaster to her hopes that lay within the moment, 
 she took down the receiver." Page 491. Frontispiece. 
 
 "I swan ef I hain t most forgot all I wanted to ask you 
 a-seein that pesky nigger a diddlin* an a daddlin with that 
 carpet." Page 65. 
 
 "A handful * * * finally went up to offer advice, criti 
 cism and caution, but the "PILLARS" stood firm. Page 102. 
 
 " and here, wolves, human wolves, devour this beauty, 
 
 and feast their eyes upon her flesh alone." Page 164. 
 
 .< * * * d youse hear me! Youse killed him, an dese 
 here men knows it." Page 213. 
 
 "I will follow you to the ends of the earth and hire, with 
 my kisses, some other little dog to put you away. Now go!" 
 Page 246. 
 
 "They ain t no priest ner sky-pilot goin t say a word t 
 God fer youse, an God knows I ain t." Page 371. 
 
 "The first one of you to lift a hand will beat the other one 
 to hell by about three seconds." Page 448. 
 
THE MAD MAMMON- WORSHIPING WOULD.* 
 
 Strange! But isn t it so? 
 
 That a man feels good when he s beaten another 
 And fastened himself on the back of a brother! 
 
 Isn t it passing strange? 
 
 But isn t it so? 
 
 With Jacob, we bargain at Esau s cost; 
 We re pleased with profits the hired have lost; 
 As gods turned devils we call for rents ; 
 As usurers, gloat over cent per cents; 
 Our riches, religion and culture we roll, 
 A straining mass, on each body and soul 
 Of the landless class. We double their toil, 
 And feast as leeches on those who moil; 
 And then and then, we patronize workers 
 And proudly fellowship robbers and shirkers! 
 
 Strange! Isn t it so? 
 
 God pity, with workers tis so] 
 For among all classes is eager desire 
 To rank and grade and to climb up higher, 
 Away from the grime and smell of the soil, 
 Away from the need of physical toil, 
 Away from the vulgar, serving masses 
 And in with the ruling, cultured classes 
 The whiter one s hands and the less one labors, 
 The more he is thought of by all his neighbors. 
 
 Even with workers tis so. 
 
 Hence, hard is the task 
 Of those who insist that all are brothers 
 And live by their faith, to emancipate others. 
 The rich raise the cry of "Dangerous teachers!" 
 The middle class fly from radical preachers, 
 The proletaire, blinded, are pitiful creatures, 
 With spirit and courage blurred out of their features; 
 
 And fear makes a desperate task. 
 
 GEORGE HOWARD GIBSON. 
 
 *From a volume of verse entitled "The People s Hour," to 
 come from the press simultaneously with this book. By the 
 same publishers. 
 
THE MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ONE SIDE OF A GRAVE QUESTION. 
 
 On one of the most aristocratic avenues in our metro 
 polis stands a mansion, unsurpassed in beauty of archi 
 tecture by any within the reach of the eye in either di 
 rection. 
 
 Within, the appointments are in keeping, and the best 
 of our society of the "new rich" had been entertained 
 within its doors, up to six months ago. But death felt 
 its way even into this abode of wealth, and took the 
 wife and mother from scenes of earthly contests and 
 conquests, leaving the Honorable Horace Holdon a 
 widower, with a daughter twenty-one years of age, and 
 a son of twenty-five. 
 
 Beatrice Holdon had tried to make up to her mother 
 for the neglect and indifference of her brother Joel, and 
 her love and devotion had, in some measure, compensated 
 for his shortcomings. 
 
 As Joel Holdon plunged more and more into the vor 
 tex of vice that opens inviting arms to the sons of rich 
 and indulgent parents, his mother sought to drown her 
 grief and quiet her conscience by redoubling her chari 
 table work among the poor. Beatrice went into "the 
 sweet work of charity" with a double purpose to satisfy 
 her mother s longing for forgetfulness, and to satisfy 
 her desire to do all she might to help lift the weight of 
 misery she had early come to know in the lives of the 
 distressed about her. 
 
 "Bee" Holdon was sincere, honest, earnest and de 
 voutly religious. She had learned to differentiate be 
 tween poverty and pauperism a thing seemingly impos 
 sible of comprehension on the part of the average char 
 ity worker. Her work among the poor carried a blessing 
 with it, because of the spirit in which she gave. 
 
 9 
 
10 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 After her mother s death, this girl of twenty-one 
 practically gave her time and all the money she could 
 coax from her father to the work. 
 
 The mother died firm in the faith that her husband 
 was a true man, even though a bit hard to understand at 
 times. 
 
 Could she have known the real Horace Holdon, could 
 she have known that some of the dens of vice, gilded 
 though they were, upon which she would have looked 
 with loathing, furnished each month a percentage of the 
 money she spent to assist the wives and children of men 
 who had been ground to powder by the system that paid 
 toll to her husband, she could not have been a charity 
 worker, and would have had more of heartache and sor 
 row to endure. 
 
 Joel had just returned from a trip to the Pacific 
 coast which had cost his father something like ten thou 
 sand dollars, a trip in which a "foot-light favorite" fig 
 ured. While Joel is smarting from the sting of things 
 the Honorable Horace had said in warning, among 
 others, that he must live within his allowance until he 
 should decide to settle down, that this San Francisco 
 escapade is the last he will settle for, etc., we will intro 
 duce him. An offer from the father to get him a berth 
 with the mining branch of the trust, Joel had simply 
 scoffed at, declaring that when he wanted to be buried 
 alive he would let the governor know. 
 
 Twice since his return home, Bee had induced him to 
 accompany her on her trips into the realm of poverty 
 and that was the limit. Joel swore under his breath at 
 each halt. The sight of the squalid misery of the poor 
 sickened him. He looked upon all of the, to him, 
 wretched mass as so many beggars, and resented the 
 familiarity of his sister with such people. 
 
 After the second expedition he determined to "blow 
 her up," as he put it, and if she wouldn t listen to rea 
 son, he proposed to take the matter to the governor. 
 His chance came sooner than he had expected. While 
 taking a rather absent-minded look at his many manly 
 perfections of figure and feature in the hall mirror, Bee 
 caught sight of him and prevented his escape by a sud 
 den descent upon him. "Oh, Joel," she exclaimed, "I 
 want you to go with me this morning this June weather 
 
ONE SIDE OF A GRAVE QUESTION II 
 
 is lovely." Scowling into the mirror, until his face 
 suited his fancy, Joel turned. "Where to, Sis? Not to 
 hand out another batch of Dad s dough to the brats 
 down on Hell s half-acre." Bee put up her hands in 
 protest. "How can you, Joel? You, you ought not to 
 talk so!" 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. "See here, Sis, I might 
 just as well unload now as any other time, and I tell 
 you flat, if you won t listen to me, I am going to appeal 
 the case to the governor." 
 
 "I don t understand what case?" Bee inquired. 
 
 "What case? Say, kid, don t try to string me. You 
 know what I am driving at this damned charity non 
 sense of yours that s what case." 
 
 Bee dropped her hand from her brother s arm, and 
 her eyes rested upon the tips of his shoes, her lips 
 trembling, she protested: "Joel, you shouldn t talk to 
 me that way that s the way drunken husbands talk to 
 the wives they abuse." 
 
 "Put me on a level with the drunken husband of one 
 of those dirty, sniveling beggars, who coax money out 
 of you, and then laugh at you for being a "softy" as 
 soon as your back is turned! Well, I call that the 
 limit." 
 
 "Oh, Joel, you know I didn t mean that. You could 
 not abuse the confidence of a woman who trusted you 
 you couldn t sink so low as to abuse your wife. I only 
 meant that your voice and your sneering sounded 
 strangely like things I ve heard in my work among the 
 poor." 
 
 Joel patted her on the shoulder. "All right, Sis, let 
 it go at that, but just the same I want to straighten you 
 out on what you call your work among the poor/ 
 
 "Well?" Bee looked up at him appealingly. 
 
 "Well," petulantly. "What do you mean by that 
 well? Do you know, sometimes I d like to slap you 
 when you look at me that way. There s something in 
 your eyes I don t like sort of a Villain still pursued 
 her look. " 
 
 "Joel !" 
 
 "Fact, Sis ! Anyhow it don t work a spell on me this 
 time. You know," he plunged on, "I have always been 
 
12 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 strictly against yonr meddling with those beggars, and 
 if the old woman " 
 
 "What old woman, Joel?" Bee s voice was low, but 
 vibrant with reserve force. 
 
 "Hang it! Mother, of course! If she hadn t gone 
 
 nutty on charity work " The girl swung about, and 
 
 catching him by the shoulders, shook him, saying: "Stop 
 right there, Joel Holdon. You may say anything you 
 please of me, but don t you dare to say one word about 
 mother. You, of all men, to belittle the work that she 
 gave herself up to, when you when you " 
 
 Joel removed her shaking hands from his shoulders, 
 and in an injured tone, said : "So you are going to 
 take up the hectoring where she left off. God, I know 
 now what I ve always seen in your eyes ! Come, kid, 
 spit it out, spit it out, I m used to it." 
 
 Bee shrank away from him, and for a moment was 
 silent; then lifting her eyes, and holding out her hands 
 to him, said: "Joel, forgive me. I promised mother I 
 would never reproach you, but you drove me " 
 
 "Never reproach me and I drove you? Say, Sis, 
 this is as good as a play. What have 1 done? It seems 
 to me the reproach is on the other side. You belong to 
 the best set in town, and everywhere I go, and every 
 body I know, who is anybody, either says you are queer 
 or thinks so. What with your hiding yourself, and as 
 sociating with people who are simply impossible why, 
 damn it, Bee, you know as well as I do that the whole 
 of our set is down on the sort of work you are doing. 
 It s bad enough for us to pay over money to some char 
 ity organization and that s blackmail nine times out of 
 ten ; but to have you going into the homes of such peo 
 ple as you dragged me to twice last week, and you hold 
 ing their miserable, dirty babies in your arms, while 
 great big, red- faced women weep tears on your silk 
 cape each one of em worth a hard dollar to her, and 
 the whole tribe of brats, schooled to it, no doubt, stood 
 around, or pulled at you, and told the lies made up for 
 them. Why, Bee, it s disgraceful! It s an outrage, and 
 I don t see what the governor s been thinking about that 
 he hasn t put a stop to it, since he has a free hand with 
 you." 
 
 Bee did not reply. Standing with downcast eyes, she 
 
ONE SIDE OF A GRAVE QUESTION 13 
 
 seemed to be pondering the weight of her brother s criti 
 cism of her "great labor." 
 
 Believing her silence argued conviction, Joel with 
 vigor renewed the attack, while his father arrived at the 
 library door and halted within earshot, as he resumed: 
 "You see, it s like this, Sis. The half they tell you is 
 false; there isn t anything to it. Those women whose 
 tales of woe you unfolded to me after we got away from 
 their dirty dens are drunkards along with their husbands 
 in nine cases out of ten. Yes, they are, and those who 
 are not are in poverty because their husbands belong to 
 labor unions, and are striking, or are in jail instead of 
 being at work. The thing I m kicking about is this I ve 
 been in this world twenty-five years, and I ve seen a lot of 
 it, and I tell you the more sweet charity you pour out 
 on the wives and children of the workers, the more the 
 men organize and strike, and destroy our property. Why, 
 kid, it s a regular layout a game. The governor runs 
 a big factory, the men want more money for booze and 
 craps and penny ante. They organize a labor union, 
 and hit the old man for a raise. If he don t come down 
 with the rocks, they strike, and cave in windows and 
 raise general hell all around the works. At the same 
 time the governor s daughter, a bit loose in her head 
 piece, is a snoopin around amongst these men s wives 
 and ladling out the governor s rocks promiscuously to 
 any one who can break the drouth, and while dad fights 
 the men, he puts up the dough to feed their families." 
 
 "Joel, Joel, you don t know, you can t know what 
 you are saying." Bee, with hands clasped, stood before 
 him, when the father called out: "Come Joel, and you, 
 too, Bee; come into the library and let us settle this 
 matter the three of us." Joel was elated ; this was bet 
 ter than he had hoped. Now Bee would surely get 
 "hers," he thought, as he entered the library and threw 
 himself into one of its comfortable chairs. Bee entered 
 quietly, and sat down where she could see both men. She 
 had always known that her father opposed this work of 
 hers; now she felt that all her hopes and fears were to 
 find issue, but she was undismayed. In her quiet blue 
 eyes there dwelt the steadfast light of purpose; she 
 thought she knew her way through life they did not. 
 Her thoughts were undisturbed for quite a while. The 
 
14 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 father was evidently at a loss how to open the subject. 
 Finally Joel severed the knot. 
 
 "I don t know how much you heard of what I was 
 saying to Sis/ he observed, "but I can state my case in a 
 few words. I am dead against Bee s going any farther 
 with this foolishness she calls charity work/ I want 
 to see her put in a little more ginger, and not make a 
 holy show of herself, going around looking like a picture 
 of Mary at the Cross/ : 
 
 Bee sprang from her chair. "Joel, J oe ^ now can 
 you?" 
 
 "Beatrice is right, Jo, let s hear facts your oratory 
 is a bit lurid," the father remonstrated. 
 
 "Well, it s the truth ; the girls she ought to run with 
 make fun of her, and the fellows of our set, outside of 
 Phelps, Harmon and Wetherby, call her a Little Puri 
 tan/ Why, a man would be better off without a sister 
 than to have one who don t know enough to take the 
 pole in the race when it is hers all the way round." 
 
 "Well, well, yes. But, Jo, I must insist that your 
 language is better fitted to the race track than to the 
 icompany of either your sister or father." 
 
 "I beg pardon." Joel uttered the words perfuncto 
 rily and settled back to the cushions, well satisfied. 
 
 Across the room Bee was wondering at the differ 
 ence in her brother s viewpoint touching her and him 
 self. For her he insisted that she should take the pole 
 for the family honor, for himself forbidden pastures, and 
 a sulking fit, if harness or training for a race in defense 
 of family honor were even mentioned. 
 
 "Well, Beatrice," the father turned to her with a 
 smile, "what have you to say to Joel s demand that you 
 give up this plaything?" 
 
 "May I hear what you have to say first, father?" 
 
 "Why, certainly, Bee. While I am willing to admit 
 that I am not nearly so radical as Joel and mind, I am 
 convinced that he has had, as he says, a good deal of op 
 portunity to learn at first hand, since he has had to sow 
 a big crop of wild oats, and spread the sowing to the 
 two coasts I must admit that I don t believe in the sort 
 of charity work you indulge in. You see, it is this way, 
 Beatrice. There are a hundred and one organized chari 
 ties, church associations and begging institutions that 
 
ONE SIDE OF A GRAVE QUESTION 15 
 
 make a regular business of charity. Why, there isn t a 
 business man, a club or any other institution, even a 
 saloon, that isn t hounded to death by the agents of these 
 so-called charities. In fact, it has come to be a bore, 
 and I have been satisfied for a long time that the major 
 ity of these organizations which prey on business men 
 and rich families are more interested in charity because 
 it gives them an easy living than on any other account. 
 Still, so long as they are organized, and we have to pay 
 the fiddler, I don t see why our wives and daughters 
 should take up such work. And you know, Beatrice, 
 they are always opposing the meddling of well, people 
 who go out individually and interfere with their work." 
 
 "But I don t interfere, father. The people I help 
 would not accept help from the agents of organized 
 charities, and they do need help so badly. Their lives 
 are wretched. Oh, I wish you men could see them as 
 I do." 
 
 Beatrice stood at the head of the great library table, 
 her face aglow. 
 
 "Father Joel don t try to take this work away 
 from me. I would hate myself and this beautiful home 
 and all our wealth if I had to sit down with folded hands, 
 knowing what I do of the distress that burdens the lives 
 of thousands of innocent women and children, yes, and 
 men. Don t ask me to give this up. I " 
 
 "Nonsense, kid," Joel protested, with a fine assump 
 tion of superior wisdom, "you just pack your duds and 
 go to the shore with any one of a dozen parties who 
 would be only too glad to have dad s daughter to flaunt 
 in the faces of their dearest friends, and I ll bet the nrice 
 of your outfit you ll forget all the little brats and the 
 tear-dripping dames and their drunken husbands inside 
 of a month." 
 
 "Joel is right, Beatrice," the father s level voice came 
 to her as from afar. "You need a change. You have 
 been too much alone since mother s death, and besides, 
 can t you see that your own statement must condemn 
 your work, as you call it ? If the people you carry my 
 money to are too good to go to the charitable associa 
 tions, or accept help from their agents, they don t de 
 serve help, and each one you go to is just adding another 
 to the army of paupers." 
 
1 6 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "They are not paupers," Bee s voice was full of in 
 sistence. 
 
 "Not paupers?" Joel sneered. 
 
 "Then what are they?" the father demanded. 
 
 "I wish I could take you into their homes," Bee be 
 gan, when Joel interrupted with "Well, haven t you? 
 Didn t I see the dirty, ragged little beasts in swarms? 
 Didn t .you show me the choicest lot of bedraggled wom 
 en in town, and didn t we see hundreds of their daugh 
 ters coming out of old Hutch s factories, looking like 
 the very devil? What do you think you can do with 
 such cattle, anyway ? Not paupers, indeed ! Next you 
 will try to tell us that they are as good as yourself, or 
 some such rot." 
 
 He turned to his father. "I tell you, dad, it s just 
 such foolishness as this of mother s and Bee s that s got 
 these working people to talking Socialism, and yelling 
 for a divvy. Why, I stopped on a corner the other night 
 and heard a big, hulking working man tell a crowd of 
 Nixon s men that if it wasn t for the fact that they had 
 to work hard enough to keep two automobiles, a carriage, 
 a trap, a big mansion and all the men and women the 
 Nixons have to serve them, they would have more of 
 the comforts of life in their own homes. Then the impu 
 dent cuss pointed over to the plant and said : Men, you 
 may organize unions and strikes from now on till dooms 
 day, but so long as Nixon and his class own that plant 
 and its machinery, and all the wealth you produce, you 
 working men will remain within six weeks of the poor- 
 house, and when a panic comes you ll either send your 
 family to the poorhouse or accept the charity monger s 
 dole of stolen gold, red with the blood of little children. 
 And at that the mob shouted. Say, I wanted to make a 
 roughhouse right there. The idea!" 
 
 "Who was he?" Bee asked in a low voice. 
 
 "Oh, I can tell you all right, all right. I found out, 
 and the next day I fixed his clock." 
 
 "How was that?" the father questioned. 
 
 "Why, easy enough. It seems that our beastly city 
 government is afraid of that scum, and to curry favor 
 with them they issue street permits for their speakers. I 
 went to the policeman and got this lout s name and found 
 out that he worked for the Nixon people, and when I 
 
ONE SIDE OF A GRAVE QUESTION I/ 
 
 went down town the next day I sent my card up to 
 Nixon, and when I told him what downright anarchy 
 Bulman had been feeding the men, why, he just reached 
 over and tapped the bell and had his nibs up on the car 
 pet in less than no time. Say, he looked like a stoker 
 when he came in, dirty, greasy, and wet with sweat. 
 Then Nixon lit into him. He looked sort of queer at 
 first, but when Nixon got through with him, I ll be 
 damned excuse me. I ll be blowed if he wasn t smiling. 
 I ll admit he kept his temper while Nixon jacked him 
 up, and at last he just turned to Nixon and said : From 
 what you have said, I infer that you don t require my 
 services any longer/ Nixon told him to go back and 
 finish his day, but the fellow said, No, there is some 
 danger that I might convert some of the men to Social 
 ism. No, I quit here and now. My political convictions 
 are not for sale, even at the price of bread/ And he 
 stood his ground until he got the paltry wages due him. 
 And then, think of Nixon s gratitude to me. Bulmaij 
 had hardly gone when Nixon turned on me and said : 
 I m sorry you came, Holdon. That man was one of the 
 most faithful workers we ever had, and besides, he s in 
 a devil of a hard row lost two children last year, and 
 this year his boy, who was just getting old enough to 
 help out, got cut up in a machine over on the west side, 
 and isn t well yet. If I d thought he had the nerve to 
 take the gaff that way, I wouldn t have sent for him. 
 And he seemed put cut. Now, wasn t that the limit?" 
 
 With tears in her eyes, and her cheeks red with a 
 righteous anger, Bee confronted her brother. "I m glad, 
 so glad you refused to go with me this morning. I was 
 going to his home to carry comfort to his sick wife, and 
 that poor boy, crippled for life. And you, my own 
 brother, have taken the last hope away from them! I 
 am glad, Joel Holdon, that you would not go. If Mr. 
 
 Bulman had seen you " She hesitated. "Do you 
 
 know what I would do to you if I were in Mr. Bulman s 
 place? Well, I d fight you. I d whip you if I went to 
 jail for it." 
 
 "My God, Beatrice, what are you talking about?" 
 Holdon looked at his daughter with staring eyes. 
 
 "Just what I mean, father. It was such a contempt 
 ible thing to do. I know Mr. Bulman is a Socialist, but 
 
1 8 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 isn t that just as honorable as being a Democrat or a 
 Republican? Don t we pride ourselves on having a free 
 country, where each man holds to whatever politics he 
 pleases ?" 
 
 "But, Beatrice, you don t understand. While I will 
 admit that the constitution grants that right, I contend 
 that Socialism does not come under that head. Why, 
 child, we have got to weed them out of our shops and 
 factories. They won t be put down and they are a real 
 danger." 
 
 "But, father, if you had a Socialist in the foundry 
 and his family would suffer if you discharged him, and 
 some one came to you as Joel went to Mr. Nixon, and 
 you sent for the man and he refused to give up what he 
 believed, or refused to lie to you to hold his place, would 
 you discharge him ?" 
 
 "I certainly should. Why, Beatrice, I am not run 
 ning a charity organization. When I have paid a man 
 his wages, he has no farther claim upon me. Of course, 
 I would discharge him as a lesson to the rest of the men 
 not to fool away their time listening to such rant." 
 
 "Then the men in your foundry do not have political 
 liberty?" It was a statement rather than a question. 
 
 "Political liberty be blowed ! I m talking business. If 
 you understood business, there would be less cobwebs 
 in your head, my girl. Business demands that the work 
 ers be kept where they cannot disturb our markets by 
 strikes and boycotts. And when it comes to Socialist 
 politics, that is ten times worse than all the unions in 
 existence. When we give the men work, they ought to 
 show enough gratitude to knock any agitator on the head 
 who comes around talking about our mansions, carriages, 
 automobiles and wealth. Instead of that, as Joel says, 
 they throw up their hats and shout, and then go home, 
 and likely dream of the day when they will be riding in 
 automobiles. I d like to see them." 
 
 "That s just it, dad, and Sis is feeding Socialists and 
 other cattle with our money, trying to fatten them up so 
 they can fight. I ll tell you flat, if I held the combination 
 to the cash box she d not get another piece of money for 
 any such foolishness. Better pack her off to the coast 
 next week, and let her cool her heels in the surf." 
 
 "But I m not going," Bee announced. 
 
ONE SIDE OF A GRAVE QUESTION 19 
 
 "Well," her father replied, "you can understand that 
 you don t get another cent of my money to put into the 
 pockets of your suffering poor. You ll get just your 
 monthly allowance, and that s all. If you don t go to 
 some summer resort, what do you intend to do? I don t 
 
 think I shall keep this great house open " 
 
 Beatrice put a hand upon his shoulder, and said: 
 "You promised mother," her voice was almost a whisper, 
 "that this should be my home as long as I lived." His 
 head fell, and even Joel s ever-drumming fingers halted. 
 "Well, well, yes, I did; but if you don t go to the 
 seaside, you might go somewhere else, you know. You 
 wouldn t lose your home." 
 
 The girl stooped and kissed him. 
 "I m going to stay at home, father." 
 She walked to the door, her lips trembling and her 
 eyes filled with tears, then hesitated and turned back. 
 
 "Did you really mean that I am not to have any more 
 money for for sweet charity?" she faltered. 
 
 "Yes, I meant it." Holdon s voice was anything but 
 steady, and Beatrice felt that he would yield if she but 
 insisted. 
 
 "But I can still be honest with myself," she said, 
 proudly, arid went on: "I have promises to fulfill to 
 day," looking straight across the table at Joel, "and a 
 duty that wrings my heart. I m going to Mr. Bulman s 
 and tell them the whole truth. I consider Joel s act a 
 most contemptible thing, whether measured by business 
 or any other standard, and I shall not hide the truth, even 
 for my own brother." 
 
 Without a thought as to what her words really im 
 plied, the Honorable Horace Holdon sprang from his 
 chair, exclaiming : "And I forbid you to do anything: of 
 the kind." 
 
 "Here, too," Joel added. 
 
 For just a moment the girl hesitated. Her eyes had 
 lost their softness and her lips were drawn straight 
 across her even teeth. 
 
 "Yet, I will go," she declared. And added while they 
 stood, scarce believing their senses: "Not that I want 
 to be disobedient, but I gave a promise to one who knew 
 my heart, and appreciated my work. A promise I dare 
 not break. I must be honest with mvself and to those 
 
2O MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 who trust in me." She left the room, sobbing as she 
 went. 
 
 "That comes of mother s tomfoolery. I always 
 thought Sis was " 
 
 "Hush, Joel. Beatrice is all right. She s a little 
 jewel, but it s this confounded mixing with the poor that 
 has sent her off on a tangent. The little I give her for 
 charity won t build up many unions, or feed enough So 
 cialists to carry a ward. I ll bring her smiles back to 
 morrow, with a nice check. See if I don t, and after al 
 your butting in on the Bulman business, and making a 
 big thing of it " 
 
 "Well, how in the dickens could I know anything 
 about her being as thick as soubrettes in flytime with the 
 outfit? If I had " 
 
 "Well, yes, if you had, of course, you wouldn t have 
 said it. But the thing I m thinking of is Beatrice her 
 self. If some eligible young fellow could be gotten to 
 take up some of her time. Of course, I don t want any 
 rakes or young Johnnies coming around, but some young 
 man of good family and plenty of means." 
 
 "Why, dad, what s the matter with Charlie Wether- 
 by? He s the limit of all that s nice, and his folks are 
 such an old family that the girls shrivel up at seventeen, 
 and the boys go in for psalm singing and all sorts of de 
 votional exercises at ten. He s the very fellow; besides, 
 he s dead crazy over charity and has his old man eter 
 nally digging up for associations for suppressing every 
 thing but the old man s sugar mills. He would soon 
 show her where charity of her kind was a sin, and if 
 she would take to him well, he won t have less than two 
 millions." 
 
 "Bring him out and let s see how Beatrice takes to 
 his sort of charity. And, Joel, we have both been trying 
 to show Beatrice the path of duty. Now, how about 
 yourself? Have you thought much about my proposi 
 tion to put you up at the iron mines?" 
 
 Joel looked at his watch. "Phew, past time now. No, 
 I haven t thought it out yet. I ve got an engagement at 
 the Eagle, and I ll be twenty minutes late. No, I 
 haven t thought much about it. Good day." 
 
 As Joel left the room, the father called after him. 
 "Well, think it over, Joe." 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 "HUMP S" DAUGHTER. 
 
 In a section of Illinois where farm lands sold, not so 
 many years ago, for less per acre than the price of a good 
 pair of boots, the growing demand for the soil has made 
 many a first settler comparatively well-to-do. Such an 
 one was Zedekiah Holcomb, only son of a quiet old Ver- 
 monter who had been well satisfied to have a bare three- 
 hundred-and-twenty of our rich soil, after having spent 
 the best half of his life on a much smaller and less pro 
 ductive farm in the Green Mountain state. 
 
 "Jed," an only child, inherited the fat farm shortly 
 after his marriage with Martha Plummer, the buxom 
 daughter of "th* most bullheadedest neighbor God ever let 
 a Christian settle next to on this earth," to use Jed s 
 father s flat-footed declaration as a basis of character 
 study. 
 
 Herman Plummer (known to his little world as 
 "Hump") had, to hear him tell it, been a wild blade in 
 his time did pretty much everything his worst enemy 
 could possibly have accused him of doing, murder ex- 
 cepted. But all that happened before he gave his heart 
 to God. To hear "Old Hump" testify served the youth 
 of the community in lieu of the circus. There were, we 
 are sorry to say, some grown folk, and amongst them a 
 few mothers, who condoned this levity in the young. 
 And it must be recorded in their defense that there were 
 extenuating circumstances. 
 
 When Plummer warmed up year after year in the 
 old-fashioned revivals, got going at quarterly meeting, or, 
 as always happened, found the full power of grace at 
 camp-meeting, his crimes of commission grew in number 
 and atrocity as he grew in years and in grace. 
 
 Martha, the only child in the Plummer home, had 
 been early offended at the levity of the youngsters of the 
 
 21 
 
22 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 community, and had had a number of quarrels over her 
 father s sinnings, his conversion and his sanctification 
 before she gave her name to the church. 
 
 Hump s wife belonged to the congregation, as a matter 
 of course ; but the only testimony she was ever known to 
 offer was delivered in a quavering voice, and always in 
 the same words "Brothers and sisters, pray for me." 
 
 Even some of the church members admitted that she 
 needed praying for though it is doubtful if they ever 
 followed up the admission with a supplication. Not be 
 cause of her sins did she need praying for ; bless you, 
 no. She was so far from sinning that She didn t know 
 she had a soul of her own," Sister Grimes declared ; Sis 
 ter Smilley added: "An if she knew she had one she 
 wouldn t dast t say it when Hump an* Martha could hear 
 her, or they d hev it outen her." 
 
 The happiest day in Herman Plummer s life was that 
 on which Martha gave her first "testimony" touching the 
 wonderful power it had taken from the fountain-head 
 of all-power to hold her back from the temptations and 
 snares set for her feet. In her father s estimation, the 
 splendor of Martha s public professions centered in the 
 sharp darts she threw amongst the youngsters who on 
 every occasion pushed their levity as far as their parents 
 would permit and sometimes they forgot the line, to 
 find the rod at a later hour. 
 
 This religion of wrath, with the full flames of hell 
 playing ever before the eyes of those who didn t care to 
 get what Hump had, suited some of the congregation, 
 while others grew restless while forced to nose its fumes. 
 Certain preachers and elders began to avoid the Plummer 
 home. As the church stood on Plummer ground, this al 
 most open avoidance of the most religious man in the 
 neighborhood served to further divide the church. In the 
 end the community had two churches. This division only 
 intensified the labor of Herman Plummer to uproot the 
 infidels who believed a Catholic could go to heaven, or 
 that any place this side of the literal hell was hot enough 
 for such folks as Universalists, Unitarians and other lib 
 eral faiths. And he proved his case, by an appeal to the 
 book of books. 
 
 Martha s religious armor was fitted to her for life on 
 the day that silly, little Jane Young told her "No young 
 
DAUGHTER. 23 
 
 people ever go to your old church any more, less it s to 
 hear your father belch hell-fire and make a fool of his- 
 self generally." 
 
 From that day on Martha became a close disciple of 
 her father, and bent every energy to the task of making 
 religion a thing for sane folk to shudder at. Several 
 years after her father s death, Martha chancing to hear a 
 wandering Baptist preaching the same pure and unde 
 nted damnation her father believed in, decided forthwith 
 that the Baptist church should henceforth have her sup 
 port. We have all heard the old saw : "One swallow 
 does not make a summer," so, too, Martha later discov 
 ered that one preacher does not make a ministry in the 
 Baptist faith. 
 
 How it came about that fun-loving "Jed" Holcomb 
 ever turned his eyes toward Martha Plummer, you will 
 have to guess. It is recorded in his book of life that he 
 rode over to the Plummer home one Sunday afternoon 
 and never rode, drove, or walked anywhere else any 
 Sunday after that until he had married Martha. It is 
 also recorded, in that selfsame book of life, that she 
 snatched him as a brand from the burning; that for a 
 year before marriage, and ten long years thereafter, 
 he listened to "Old Hump s" exhortations, confessions, 
 and expostulations then the good Lord took pity on 
 him and took "Hump" home to glory, or disposed of 
 him in some other fashion. It is also recorded that Mrs. 
 Plummer and "Jed" seemed to "git along amazin well 
 when they was alone together," which leads us to hope 
 that "Jed s" sacrifice was not entirely lost to the world. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 A WORKER S HOME. 
 
 In a town of fifteen hundred inhabitants, located in 
 central Illinois, back from the public square but three 
 short blocks, stands a modest cottage. Behind we catch 
 a glimpse of garden that reminds us strongly of a gar 
 den in which we labored happily when a boy. Within 
 this modest cottage, the home of William Harris, all 
 is neat and sweet and clean. No works of art 
 adorn the wails; unless the "premium chromos," of a 
 decade ago, are works of art. No carpets with a velvet 
 nap that deadens footfalls, as does old earth s great carpet 
 of green, are on these floors ; plain rag and ingrain suf 
 fice. Nor did the furniture that fills these six rooms, when 
 new, cost one half as mudi as the massive dining table 
 the Hon. Horace Holden imported from the palace of a 
 wornout prince of France no, the transportation charges 
 on that Holdon table cost more. But there is something 
 within these wooden walls that challenges the world s 
 attention, now as never before. True worth abides be 
 neath this roof; the homely virtues of the common life 
 find lodgment here, and righteousness and love have here 
 a home. When the world needs men, strong men, she 
 comes to such homes as this, and in her hands, a-tremble 
 with the dread of vice and crime left festering on her 
 seats of power, she bears the chaplet of laurel her gift 
 in time of need to the sons of sweet, and simple-hearted 
 mothers. 
 
 It mattered not what trouble entered a home in this 
 little city, the first cry of those in distress was for the 
 ministering hands, the sweet presence, of Mary Harris ; 
 a mother of labor ; a helpmeet of man ; an upbearer of 
 the church of Christ. 
 
 With all the cares a normal soul finds to grow upon, 
 Mary Harris put on new beauties as days were added to 
 her life. At twenty, when William Harris won her, she 
 
 24 
 
A WORKER S HOME 25 
 
 was still unformed in mind. When they were married and 
 he had chosen to labor in the foundry in this town, his wife 
 found her place in life. Having joined a church, it was 
 her good fortune to sit under the ministry (as our moth 
 ers were wont to put it) of a man whose whole religion 
 was one of works ; whose heart found room to plead the 
 cause of all mankind. His sermons dealt with the ever- 
 pressing problems of the common life, and to drive home 
 his teachings he insisted that Christ s parables were liv 
 ing things, dealing with literal truths. He refused to 
 look upon God as an avenger. He pleaded for the regen 
 eration of the whole man, refusing to accept lip service, 
 or to countenance a "profession" that did not bring forth 
 fruit meet for repentance. To him life, the years that 
 fly, were all in all. The man, to merit the salvation he 
 proclaimed, must needs be a man. The pocket-kodak 
 Christianity of self-seekers, who mask their batteries of 
 greed behind a symbol of the ultimate, the supreme sacri 
 fice, was denounced in words that burned. Creeds to this 
 minister were but yokes in which cattle Tnig ht be driven 
 to pull the car of a greedy ecclesiasticism. The dogmas 
 of theologians, in this man s mind, served but to weaken 
 the beautiful truths of the plain gospel of love. He 
 deprecated nay he condemned the ostentatious organ 
 ization of banded charitable institutions, holding that if 
 "religion is to do good," and the majority of the people 
 are religious, the need for charity will constantly grow 
 less as religion manifests its power before man. In deal 
 ing with the young his stand was just as pronounced. 
 
 A new member came into his congregation, by letter, 
 and brought with her all the "thou shalt not s" of a dis 
 tant church. Questioning the attitude of the church 
 toward the gaieties of the younger members she had gone 
 to this man, and he had agreed to preach upon "The 
 Children We Love." 
 
 This sermon will go with Mary Harris, and a few 
 other hearers, through all the vicissitudes of life, and 
 as they close their eyes in death "The Children We 
 Love" will still be with them. 
 
 "Brothers and sisters," the minister said as he stood 
 before his congregation, "I have promised to preach to 
 you tonight upon a theme as old as motherhood a theme 
 that, in its beauty and solemnity, causes me to hesitate 
 
26 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 as I seek words with which to clothe it The Children 
 We Love. How many of us love our children? How 
 many of us have measured the depths of love? How 
 many of us meet the duties, the sacrifices love demands ? 
 
 "Love is a sublime force, that is and yet is not akin 
 to passion. A supreme sacrifice, offering its all upon a 
 burning altar and asking not anything in return. A glo 
 rious, voluptuous, well-filled presence that may feed upon 
 a barren desert and still outlive, outshine, outserve selfish 
 ness enthroned in a fat land. Who would measure love 
 with a tape, set its boundaries upon earth, or name its 
 limitations beyond the portals of death ? 
 
 "Love is all, and in all. Love is charity, and passion, 
 and hope, and faith, and seeking, and sacrifice, all in one 
 great crucible tried by the fire of life. What is the meas 
 ure of our loving? 
 
 " The Children We Love Is the child that comes to 
 your home regretted, a child of love ? Does love prompt 
 suspicion? Does suspicion beget charity? 
 
 "All the religion you have within your heart tonight 
 is pure love, and if love requited, is joy, complete joy; 
 then you who profess religion should look upon the chil 
 dren we love with all charity, all hope and trust. 
 
 "Let my people dance before me, saith the Lord of 
 hosts, for today is the day of deliverance. When we 
 enter the presence of our souls if there is in our hearts 
 either hatred, anger or malice against one of these little 
 ones then our prayers shall defile us. 
 
 "Childhood is the springtime of life, when its rarest 
 blossoms come to light. The very garden of God cen 
 ters in the groups of merry children who congregate to 
 learn the first great lesson of the passion of Calvary 
 to learn how to live, to love, to labor, and to wait the 
 passing of the flower of youth into the full ripe fruitage 
 of manhood and womanhood. 
 
 "You who think that love must rule with a rod of 
 iron, beware! You who expect other manifestation of 
 religion in youth than the religion of living up the days 
 when honey drips from every opening flower, and 
 laughter, free as the clouds that cross our skies, fills up 
 the merry measure of the day, are treading upon danger 
 ous ground. Bring me the child who has confessed 
 Christ and taken upon its shoulders the weight of the 
 
A WORKER S HOME 27 
 
 world s growing load of sin, and you bring to me a 
 flower plucked from God s garden to be transplanted to 
 live or die within a flower pot of your choosing. 
 
 "Are there wolves about that you seek to herd the 
 children you love within the portals of the church? Yea, 
 yea, there are wolves who rend the flesh of children, 
 wolves who feed upon the sweet blood of our young 
 daughters, wolves who poison the springs from which 
 our youth drink wolves! 
 
 "What are you doing my brother, my sister, to ex 
 terminate the wolves who live in your midst and feed 
 upon those we love ? To rob childhood of its freedom, its 
 song of heaven-born melody, to fence it in behind a wall 
 of don ts, to invest it with the name of Christian, to 
 organize it into leagues or bands in the hope to sustain 
 its virtue and ripen its honor, is but to admit the greater 
 failure. 
 
 "My religion, your religion, is in the balance today. 
 Either the sword of faith shall prevail against the wolves 
 I see prowling in a Christian land, and these children of 
 ours shall come into their inheritance, or this church, 
 this religion, will go down to ruin when the wolves wax 
 strong enough to dispute your right to protect the chil 
 dren you love even within the walls of your home. What 
 are the rights of the child? What is this inheritance of 
 which I speak ? Listen here is all of my religion, all of 
 my politics, all of my philosophy of life : 
 
 "The child by right of birth shall have, to the full of 
 its need, of all the wealth accumulated by the labor of 
 those who have struggled for mastery over the material 
 world, and of all the knowledge man has gathered in the 
 struggle of the races and this child all children shall 
 have all of these things upon which to build their lives, 
 without money and without price. To deny this right of 
 the children to participate, to the fullest extent of their 
 individual needs, in all things of worth stored upon this 
 earth of ours today, on account of birth, parentage or 
 racial extraction, is to deny the very existence of the 
 Christ ethic. 
 
 "If you believe the wolves who fatten upon the heri 
 tage of our children are sapping the very foundations of 
 the social order then exterminate them and the religion 
 
28 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 of our youth will be symbolical of purity, in ages yet 
 unborn. 
 
 "You who lift your hands against the children who 
 disobey your imperfect laws take thought. Your obe 
 dience to laws your added years have given you oppor 
 tunity to understand, is but halting ; what right have you 
 to strike? You, who are yet ignorant of many things, 
 who meet punishment for violating laws of nature, of 
 which you have been willfully ignorant, through long 
 years look at this child. 
 
 "A stranger, in a strange world, given over to wonder 
 and by nature made inquisitive. He has to learn, and you 
 who are responsible for the coming of this child ; in your 
 blindness lie to him, evade his questions, and build lie 
 upon lie for your undoing. Mark you, a normal child 
 of four is keener of intellect, more retentive of memory, 
 more persistent in seeking knowledge, more able to 
 judge man s true worth, than the majority of you of 
 older growth. And still you think to deceive him. What 
 right have you to demand more from the child than you 
 are willing to give? He will give you measure for meas 
 ure a. lie for a lie. He will show cunning to meet your 
 craft. He will watch your dealings with others, if you 
 are false to them you will have no right to weep over the 
 loss of your children s respect, and condemn them as un 
 grateful. You have lost their respect because they know 
 more of your hollo wness, your hypocrisy, than the rest 
 of the world knows that is all. 
 
 "Fear not, if you are fully worthy of love you shall 
 not be denied. Parentage is life s supreme test; to be 
 worthy of motherhood, all of heaven has nothing more 
 to offer the woman." 
 
 This man ministered and died long years before his 
 philosophy of life became a vital issue in the land. They 
 buried him and went away sorrowing. Another came, 
 fresh from the school room and filled with a religion 
 drawn from books. Mary Harris listened to him for full 
 six months ; then quietly withdrew from the church, and 
 gave her life to good works. 
 
 But here come two of her loved ones. William, bent 
 with labor and the weight of years, still bears the look of 
 one who lives in a pleasant place. Charles, the youngest 
 son, now working by his father s side in the foundry, is 
 
A WORKER S HOME 29 
 
 first to reach the kitchen door where the mother stands 
 beaming with pride in this, her baby. 
 
 Four children have gone out into the world from this 
 home, and it is such as they who fight the world s bat 
 tles. The moral strength society needs to guide her as 
 she walks in the path wherein greed has digged pitfalls 
 is nurtured in such homes as this. 
 
 "Hello, mother mine !" Charley s voice comes floating 
 to her when he is but skirting the far side of the lot. For 
 answer she waved her hand and waited. 
 
 "News, mother Winslows want me after all, 
 and I told Webb tonight that I would not be back in " 
 
 "And my baby is going to leave me?" She reached 
 blindly to the door for support, but before her hands 
 could find this cold support her baby boy had taken her 
 in his great, strong arms. 
 
 "There, there, mother, it isn t so awful bad, is it dear ? 
 not like going so far I couldn t come back, you know." 
 With terms of endearment the boy tried to soothe her, 
 but still she clung to him sobbing out her fears of the 
 great world beyond. The father, coming up, stood help 
 less in this mother s crisis. Did he see back, back beyond 
 the birth of this strong-limbed young toiler, into the heart 
 of a mother awaiting the agony? As he stands with 
 misty eyes, is he following this sweet mother s patient, 
 loving, ever-leading care of her babes ? ? Does he under 
 stand what she suffers a mother s complete surrender 
 to the demands of a generation with its own homes to 
 build, its own battles to fight, with the fragments of 
 wealth and opportunity still left to it? 
 
 "I know we talked it all over, Charles but it was not 
 like knowing the day. I didn t think I would be such a 
 goose." The mother dried her eyes and tried to laugh. 
 "Yes, of course you must go. I wouldn t think of keep 
 ing you." 
 
 "Mother, I knew you wouldn t be anything but just 
 the bravest and best mother ever." The boy did not look 
 back; his eyes were on the future, and he told himself a 
 hundred times during that afternoon that the great world 
 of men was hungry to do him honor. Listen to him: 
 "You want me to make that great machine of mine a 
 success, don t you mother? And I will, I can promise 
 
30 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 you that. And mother, when I am rich I ll show you and 
 father the whole world. Besides, if I am to make a place 
 for myself in the world, I must get away from this 
 dead-alive town." 
 
 "Yes, dear," she had replied, looking into his splendid 
 eyes of brown, all alive with youth s first great resolve; 
 "your place is where a good man may make the best use 
 of all God has given him. Father and I will begin a 
 new life next week but it will be hard, oh, so hard." 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 SPIES WANTED! 
 
 Behind barred gates and solid walls of brick and 
 stone, an army of men and boys are laboring for the 
 three mean things upon which man depends for mere 
 animal existence. Food, to replace the tissues worn to 
 waste in yesterday s struggle ; shelter, to protect the body 
 from earth s elements ; and clothing, that badge of higher 
 being. But scant room is there for the multitude of other 
 wants society imposes, to find satisfaction in the wage 
 doled out to the workers. Yet the majority of those who 
 enter here go singing, laughing, or jesting to their tasks. 
 Only a few are serious without being sullen ; and the 
 danger that lurks behind the sullen faces, is alike a 
 danger to the jester and the serious-minded toiler within 
 the gates. 
 
 At the meeting of the streets these walls of brick and 
 stone close upon an office building, the home of the Hoi- 
 don Foundry Company. Within the sumptuous office the 
 president of the company, the Hon. Horace Holdon, once 
 member of congress, is in earnest conversation with his 
 superintendent, Mr. Franklin Price, while the motley 
 army of men and boys are filing in at the gates on either 
 street. 
 
 "It s too much to pay for such protection," Mr. Hol 
 don observes petulantly. 
 
 "Yes, it is steep. But when a man undertakes a job 
 like that he is practically taking his life in his hands and 
 then I don t suppose this company is in the business just 
 for it s health." The superintendent laughed. 
 
 "I don t care a cent about that, what I want to know 
 is do you believe it would pay us to put up the five hun 
 dred dollars for membership?" 
 
 "I certainly do, or I wouldn t have bothered you with 
 it a second time. You will admit that I am pretty close 
 to the running end of the business, and, besides, I have 
 
 31 
 
32 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 trusties among the men, who keep me posted ; the only 
 fault I find with them is that the men are getting to know 
 them, and that ends their usefulness." 
 
 "Then you look for trouble?" 
 
 "Not this year, but trouble, yes. And I had thought 
 this Cleveland scheme a good one to push. It s a good 
 thing if it fails. It costs us but five hundred, and if it s 
 organized, we will have the making and breaking of la 
 bor troubles in our own hands. I tell you, Mr. Holdon, 
 the devil himself couldn t have hatched a better scheme to 
 offset the growing power of the unions." 
 
 "Suppose we grant the utility of the scheme," said 
 Holdon, taking up a letter, "there are still other consid 
 erations. What guarantee have we that this company, 
 which bargains to furnish spies and sell the secrets of the 
 unions, and make strikes to our order, may not in turn 
 sell us out?" 
 
 "Every guarantee, a common interest, for one thing." 
 
 After a moment >of silence the magnate looked up to 
 say, "I see, so you look for trouble in the future, and like 
 a wise man are planning to be forearmed. You believe 
 the organization of this Corporations Protective Asso 
 ciation will serve our ends?" 
 
 "I do. In other plants the men are piling into the 
 unions like sheep going over a fence, and you know what 
 that means, within the year we will have committees in 
 this office representing the men." 
 
 "What men?" the president demanded angrily. 
 
 "Oh, the moulders and machinists, the others will 
 follow later." 
 
 "Why, man, they are the backbone of the works." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "We can t have trouble, Price." Holdon paused, 
 thought better of it and asked, "Are you sure of this?" 
 
 "Positive." 
 
 "Well, well, well say Price, if it ever comes to a 
 show-down you give them just as little show as a snow 
 ball has in Tophet, and it ll suit me." He turned to the 
 superintendent and concluded the interview by saying : 
 "As you go out send Moses in, and remember, we must 
 avoid trouble, our contracts are too valuable and we have 
 little time margin on them. I suppose if the men knew 
 this they d hustle to shake the tree. Well, they won t get 
 
SPIES WANTED! 33 
 
 many plums while Price is in the neighborhood without 
 fighting for them," was Holdon s comment as the super 
 intendent went out. 
 
 Moses Webster had been a stenographer at Holdon s 
 for five years and had lately been transferred to the 
 auditing department. When he entered the private office, 
 the first call he had ever had to that sanctum of business 
 acumen, his heart was troubled. A wife and two little 
 tots depended upon him for their existence. A salary of 
 sixteen dollars per week, eaten as fast as earned, gave 
 him every right to dread the outcome of an interview that 
 might entail enforced idleness, and that meant want from 
 the first day, grim, staring want unless he applied to his 
 foster mother, and tl^at, he told himself, he would never 
 do, although she would gladly help him. 
 
 "Good morning, Mr. Webster, have a c hair and a 
 cigar. I want to have a confidential talk with you/ The 
 Hon. Horace Ho.lton was at nis best. 
 
 But who will wonder that Moses Webster was too 
 nonplussed to articulate, much less sit down. For years 
 he had seen stenographers, clerks, bookkeepers, office 
 boys and day laborers, enter by the door he had just 
 closed behind him and in a few brief minutes come forth, 
 changed, having lost their jobs. For the time being they, 
 like the drug fiend denied his dope, had lost their hold 
 upon life. Yet here he was with a cigar in his shaking 
 fingers. 
 
 "Take that arm-chair, Mr. Webster." As he renewed 
 the invitation a smile of comprehension crossed the em 
 ployer s full blooded lips, and he hastened to reassure 
 this citizen of ours. 
 
 "I just had a talk with Price," he lied like a gentle 
 man with his next breath, "and as a result of our con 
 versation about you I have decided to raise your wages 
 we want to have our help satisfied, if that can be done 
 within reason. Let s see ; Price mentioned it, but it has 
 slipped my memory, how much do you get now?" A 
 smile that had done duty in many a close place helped his 
 auditor to find his tongue. 
 
 "Sixteen dollars per week, Mr. Holdon, since Price 
 put me in Smith s place." 
 
 "Yes, yes, and you have a family?" 
 
 "Yes sir, a wife and two little ones." 
 
34 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "Well, well; why bless me, don t you smoke?" For 
 answer Moses lit his cigar, and the magnate went on, "I 
 thought you did. You will find that a pretty good weed, 
 and if we agree today you will always find the box open." 
 
 Thank you," the wondering employe replied. 
 
 "Yes, yes. Well, let s get down to business. You see 
 it s this way, Mr. Webster ; I am away a great deal, and 
 when I am here there s a mountain of work piled on my 
 desk. Of course you can understand that a great deal 
 of it is of such a character that I cannot allow it to go 
 through the ordinary channels, it s well, confidential, or 
 personal, let us say. This being the case, I decided to 
 offer you a position here in my office. I must have a 
 man who is absolutely safe." 
 
 A pair of keen black eyes measured Moses as he 
 answered : "Yes sir, I believe I follow you." 
 
 "I had thought, if you would consider this proposition, 
 to offer you what was it Price suggested? ? Let me 
 see well, I don t recall the figure. Now, what would 
 you suggest?" And still that smile. 
 
 "Why, really, Mr. Holdon, I don t like to set a price, 
 though I assure you I feel honored, and will do my very 
 best to deserve your confidence." 
 
 "Well, well, it really doesn t matter what Price s fig 
 ure was. I believe you will be worth twenty dollars per 
 week to me and if that is satisfactory I will put you to 
 work right now and give you a little surprise for the 
 wife as well." Reaching into a pocket he extracted a roll 
 and held out a bill. "You know the Bible parable of 
 the Master of the vineyard and the men he hired ? Some 
 came in the morning, some at noon, and others at the 
 eleventh hour, yet they all received the same pay. This 
 is the eleventh hour of the week, we might say, and 
 here s ten dollars to add to your wages." 
 
 Moses could but lamely stammer his gratitude as he 
 pocketed the gift and sat down to the typewriter and 
 took this letter, his first assignment of work on his new 
 job with the Holdon Foundry Company, a part of a great 
 system of concentrating units of industry: 
 
SPIES WANTED! 35 
 
 Corporations Protective Association, 
 Cleveland, Ohio. 
 Chicago, 
 
 Gentlemen Through kindness of your Mr. James, 
 we have had our attention called to your most excellent 
 undertaking. You will find herewith a draft (No. 2792) 
 Chicago Exchange, drawn to your order, for five hundred 
 dollars ($500.00), same to cover cost of membership in 
 your Association. 
 
 We understand that, in event of your perfecting the 
 organization of the Protective with at least one hundred 
 members, within one year from date of your prospectus, 
 we are entitled to have the services of two of your men, 
 from any trade specified, without additional cost to us, 
 for a period of four weeks. 
 
 Please let us know at your earliest convenience at 
 how early a date you could supply us with two men ma 
 chinist and moulder union men and good workmen. 
 We could use them to advantage at this time. 
 
 Trusting the draft inclosed will answer fully for our 
 confidence, and hearty good wishes for the success of 
 your much needed institution, 
 
 We are yours, etc. 
 
 As Holdon ceased dictating he leaned forward in 
 !his chair. "Just add another word, Mr. Webster. Tell 
 them not to use our firm s name, and to send all com 
 munications in plain envelopes marked "personal" and 
 addressed to me, here at the office." 
 
 When Moses had mailed the letter he took time to 
 ask himself this question : "What can Holdon want with 
 union men? has he had a change of heart?" This was 
 the only fly in the ointment. So one laborer, at least, went 
 forth from the office that evening dreaming as do those 
 who lave their brains in the fumes of the seductive poppy. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 JOEL TAKES THE MONEY. . 
 
 "Here, Beatrice, is a check for an even two-hundred," 
 the Hon. Horace Holdon announced, drawing a slip of 
 paper from his bill book, as Beatrice, Joel, and Mr. C. 
 Augustus Wetherby entered the parlor/ on the second 
 day after that scene in the Holdon library, narrated a 
 few chapters back. 
 
 Turning to Mr. Wetherby, Mr. Holdon explained: 
 "My daughter is greatly interested in the poor, and while 
 I am not in full sympathy with her work, at least with 
 a part of it, she is so wrapped up in it that I have to 
 humor her." 
 
 "I am sure," Mr. Wetherby replied, bowing to 
 Beatrice, "whatever c harity Miss Holdon honors with her 
 preference is most highly honored. May I inquire what 
 organizations you patronize, Miss Holdon?" 
 
 "None, I assure you," Beatrice smiled. 
 
 "But surely I don t understand. Your father pro 
 duces a check, and assures us you devote money freely 
 to charity, and " 
 
 "I am my own organization, begging committee, ad 
 visory board, local agent, secretary, treasurer, mission 
 ary, press agent and president," and added as she took a 
 seat, "in the full capacity of all these several departments 
 of my charity organization I desire to thank Mr. Holdon 
 for his generous offer, and assure him I have no im 
 mediate need for funds, as I have called in some loans 
 within the last two days and so have enough means to 
 meet the immediate and pressing needs of the organiza 
 tion." 
 
 The Hon. Horace was vexed, but still held the check 
 in his hand. Joel whistled, and looked hard at his 
 spirited sister. The visitor showed his surprise as he 
 said : "Well, that s a new one. I ve been giving to all 
 sorts of charities until the old man my father, I mean 
 
 36 
 
JOEL TAKES THE MONEY 37 
 
 has come to look upon my visits to his office as the 
 visits of a chanty solicitor. About all he asks me is, 
 How much this time, Charles? and if I start to tell 
 him I am not looking for funds he seems really sur 
 prised. And would you believe it, when I do start in to 
 tell him about a case he shuts me up before I can ex 
 plain, saying: Don t spring any sick kids or broken 
 bones, and I don t want to hear about some one who 
 must be sent to some other climate, just name the amount 
 and let me get it off my mind/ That s the way the 
 old father listens to my charity talks." He looked from 
 one to the other with a vacant smile, then concluded : 
 "And here I find a whole charity organization actually 
 refusing money; I call that rich." 
 
 Holdon motioned to Beatrice to take the check, push 
 ing it toward her over the polished table top, but the girl 
 shook her head. 
 
 "If Bee don t want it," Joel observed, "and will in 
 dorse it, I can make use of it quite handily." 
 
 The father frowned, and Wetherby laughed. "Which 
 shall it be Beatrice, Joel or charity?" the father ban 
 tered. 
 
 "It amounts to the same thing," the girl answered as 
 she took the check, drew a tiny gold pen from her bosom 
 and indorsed it with one sweep, then handed it to Joel. 
 
 Joel accepted the check, but he did have the grace to 
 blush. The father sat with a deepening frown as he wit 
 nessed the little monetary transaction, but did not com 
 ment upon it audibly. 
 
 "What charitable organizations do you favor with 
 your patronage ?" the girl inquired of Wetherby to break 
 an awkward silence that had fallen as Joel pocketed the 
 check. 
 
 "Be careful, Chuck/ Sis is down on most of them, and 
 believes in wading about in the filth herself she s just 
 trying to lead you into the shambles," Joel warned the 
 guest. 
 
 "Don t believe you," Wetherby protested, "Miss Hol 
 don may not like to feed fat paupers agents, but I ll 
 wager any legitimate, charity will have her approval." 
 
 "Good for you, Mr. Wetherby," Beatrice clapped her 
 hands, "good for you ; now I am more anxious than ever 
 to know what charities you support." 
 
38 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 Wetherby hesitated, "Well, er the list is a long one, 
 Miss Holdon, and if you don t mind, I ll come out to 
 morrow and we can go over it together. I assure you if 
 there is one on the list which you do not approve, I ll 
 lop it off, and it won t get another cent." 
 
 Beatrice blushed, while Joel winked openly at his 
 father. 
 
 "Really," she protested, "I have lots of work planned 
 for tomorrow two trips to people in the south end, 
 and " 
 
 "Oh, Miss Holdon, let me go with you. I ve always 
 given my money to other people to spend I d be de 
 lighted to see where they put it." Charles Augustus 
 Wetherby was animated. Here was big game, and from 
 the looks of things he was to have the help of the male 
 members of the family in the hunt. 
 
 The girl looked him over keenly, questioning his 
 earnestness. Finally she said with evident reluctance 
 "If you want to see where I put all the money I can 
 find you may come at 9 o clock tomorrow morning now 
 I must bid you good afternoon." 
 
 Beatrice had won her point, and consequently felt the 
 more amiable, if that were possible. That check had 
 been less of a temptation to her than might be supposed. 
 She had been calling in loans since her father had said 
 not another cent of his money should go to feed Socialists 
 and the families of union men. When she had gone over 
 her "loan ledger" as she called the account book in which 
 she had been recording her little loans to people who 
 would not take a gift, for three years past, she was 
 surprised to find how much money she had loaned in that 
 period of time. After careful inquiry she had gone to a 
 number of those who had benefited by her liberality and 
 told them her pressing need for funds with which to help 
 others who were in need. 
 
 Beatrice left the library to go to John Bulman s. 
 When she entered the crippled boy s room he looked up 
 at her in such a questioning way that she knew he had 
 been told what a mean part her brother had played in 
 their life tragedy. 
 
 Bending over him she put her fingers on his lips. 
 "Don t say a word to me, Robert I know wnat they 
 
JOEL TAKES THE MONEY 39 
 
 have told you it s true, and it has made me wretched, 
 but you won t make me suffer for what I could not help, 
 will you, Robert?" 
 
 The boy gently took her hand in his one well one 
 and said : "Nothing they could ever say would make me 
 believe you could do a mean thing." 
 
 That s right, Robert," she was beaming, "have faith, 
 nothing else matters. Faith is the sweetest flower in 
 life s garden ; many an ugly weed has developed beautiful 
 blossoms just because the beautiful flower of faith cast 
 its pollen upon the weed. Have faith, Robert, and who 
 knows but that we shall be able to get you out into that 
 garden before long." 
 
 John Bulman stood at the door looking at the beauti 
 ful woman as she bent over his crippled boy. A wave 
 of pain crossed his face, only to be driven back that the 
 old, old expression of dogged determination might take 
 its wonted place. 
 
 Turning from the bed Beatrice saw him and her eyes 
 fell, while hot blushes of shame chased across cheek and 
 neck. She had often told herself that she felt like a 
 child in need of answers to many things when she was 
 near this man of the workaday world. Today she felt 
 the guilt of her house full upon her. 
 
 "Good morning, Miss Holdon, a pleasant morning 
 and the promise of a fine day," John was saying, as she 
 looked up with trembling lips. 
 
 "Let s not talk about the weather," she pleaded. "I 
 want to tell you to tell you " 
 
 "You want to tell me how badly you feel about that 
 business at Nixon s," he assisted her; "come sit down 
 and we ll have it all over in a minute." 
 
 "Now," said he as she was seated by the boy s bed, "I 
 want to tell you that I have discovered that you are one 
 of the bravest " 
 
 "No, no, no," she protested, "I am a coward." 
 
 "Well, then," he smiled, "the bravest coward I ever 
 knew. If you had been anything less than brave you 
 would not have come to us after you knew your brother 
 had made trouble for me at the Nixon plant." 
 
 "It was a mean, contemptibly mean thing to do," her 
 eyes flashed, "and I told both Joel and father just what 
 I thought of it." 
 
40 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 John s eyes danced, "And did you now? I ought to 
 beg your pardon for laughing, Miss Holdon, that I 
 should," he declared stoutly, and laughed again. In re 
 ply to the girl s puzzled look, he said, "After all it s only 
 a bit of the great game we are playing, and I ve no fault 
 to find either with Nixon or your brother." 
 
 "No fault to find?" 
 
 "None, Miss Holdon." 
 
 "Oh, you are only saying that because you want to 
 make it easy for me to forget Joel s heartlessness. You 
 can t meant it." 
 
 "But I do mean it. See here, Miss Holdon," he 
 stood before her, "it s like this; over all the world two 
 great forces are organizing for a mighty struggle. Capi 
 tal to protect what it has, and strengthen its hold upon 
 the productive agencies of the world ; labor to take what 
 it creates, and finally own the producing factors in the 
 social state. I am of the labor force, and if I am intel 
 ligent enough to teach my fellow workers to demand that 
 the machinery of production be turned over to them in 
 order that they may have the wealth they create to use in 
 their own homes, I certainly am dangerous to all who 
 are capitalists, or depend upon capitalists to support them 
 while they live off the labor of others. I knew when I 
 decided to stand for the worktrs against the world thai 
 sooner or later I should have to make sacrifices to my 
 faith. But Miss Holdon, I did not know how much would 
 be demanded of me within a year." As John thought of 
 his dead children, his crippled boy and sick wife, his 
 voice broke, but thrusting emotion aside he took up the 
 conversation. "I have faith, despite the many discourage 
 ments that come to one who fights for the poor and ig 
 norant faith, that beautiful flower you talked to Robert 
 about; and Miss Holdon some of the weeds are already 
 in bloom." 
 
 "But my father and brother?" Beatrice began. 
 
 "Don t say a word, not a word as far as I know 
 they play the game fair. If your father invited his men 
 to organize unions, and told them Socialism was all right, 
 if they thought so, he wouldn t last two years as a cap 
 italist in his present business ; and as far as your brother 
 is concerned, he isn t a working man." The girl winced. 
 
JOEL TAKES THE MONEY 4! 
 
 No, I didn t mean to slur him. If he s clean and is 
 playing the game on the square I haven t a word to 
 say it s got to be played out just this way " 
 
 "You surely do not mean that he had a right to go 
 to Mr. Nixon and complain " 
 
 "Yes, I mean just that. He had the right to go to 
 Nixon and protest against his keeping me on the work 
 if he believed me to be a dangerous man. I had the same 
 right to go to your father s men and tell them that the 
 only thing they could do to end this war between capital 
 and labor would be to own the capital, the machinery and 
 the land, root and branch. I exercised that right, and 
 your brother did the thing that seemed necessary to him 
 in order to counteract my influence among the men." 
 
 "Your family, Mr. Bulman, all the families of the 
 workers, are so poor can you afford to sacrifice them in 
 this war, as you call it ? Beatrice asked earnestly. 
 
 "I see no choice in the matter, Miss Holdon," he re 
 plied, then asked : "What would you call sacrificing them ? 
 Are they not sacrificed day by day? How many men 
 and boys in your father s mills and foundry are killed or 
 crippled each year? Are they not sacrificed? What be 
 comes of their families? What becomes of the women 
 and children of the workers families ? Look at my fam 
 ily Robert crippled for life, my two girls working away 
 their youth for a bare existence, and all this for bread 
 alone. Are they not being sacrificed to the present in 
 dustrial system, along with the millions who make up the 
 army of labor? Girl, girl, you have worked faithfully 
 amongst your father s poorest paid laborers for years, 
 through good times and bad times; have you ever seen 
 much difference in their lives? Have you not wondered 
 time and again how they could bear to live as they 
 are forced to year in and year out? Isn t there always 
 more and more who need help? Isn t there always suf 
 fering and want? Have you ever thought where it 
 would end??" 
 
 "I have only wondered," the girl answered slowly. 
 
 "I did the same for years," John admitted, smiling, 
 "but now I know." The assertion was positive. 
 
 "You know?" 
 
 "Yes, listen: It will end when the flower of faith 
 brings blossoms to a majority of the weeds in life s gar- 
 
42 MILLS OP MAMMON 
 
 den, and that time depends upon how we cultivate the 
 flower of faith faith in one another, faith in the great 
 future, faith in democracy, faith in manhood." 
 
 "How many years have you been working for what 
 you call the co-operative commonwealth?" Beatrice in 
 quired, as Bulman paused to hand Robert his medicine. 
 
 "Only a few years, Miss Holdon ; had I known when 
 I was a young man that I should have a part in this 
 struggle I would not have married, for " 
 
 "For shame, Mr. Bulman," the girl interrupted hotly, 
 "to say that before Robert. Why, no one had a better 
 right to marry than a sober, thrifty man like you." 
 
 "All that would be true provided the society that 
 passed upon my right to marry would also defend my 
 right to protect my wife and children from such degrad 
 ing things as you see them surrounded with, to say 
 nothing of protecting my son from the hungry machines 
 in use as wealth producers. You don t understand it, 
 Miss Holdon. You say I am sober and industrious ; well, 
 after twenty years struggle for a home you see me and 
 all I love in this world in poverty, and enmeshed in a 
 struggle that can have no ending until labor has won its 
 right to the product of its hands ask any of the men 
 who have kept clean in politics and fought the battles 
 of the unions all these years ; ask them if they are not 
 poorer today than they were ten years ago. Then look 
 at such men as Lewis and your father s superintendent, 
 and a lot of men in little political jobs, they were labor 
 men, and sold out. Some of them sold their unions, 
 others sold their manhood, their political opinions. No, 
 Miss Holdon, the man or woman who hopes to stand out 
 for the rights of the working class against all the vice and 
 crime and robbery of labor that goes on today must be 
 prepared to make sacrifice of his or her life." 
 
 But there must be a way ! There is a way !" 
 Beatrice exclaimed. 
 
 "Yes, there s a way an honest square-out way. Let 
 your father, Nixon, and all the other capitalists under 
 stand that this is a fight to a finish. Teach labor to know 
 that any compromise of the issue means more charity, 
 more strikes, more poverty, more crime. Then let us 
 all throw off our masks and meet each other fairly and 
 squarely upon the one issue, the ownership of the wealth 
 
JOEL TAKES THE MONEY 43 
 
 labor has created, and the machinery and land we must 
 have with which to create things we will need for to 
 morrow. Of course, you will go on with your charity 
 work until you know that a sop of even your brand of 
 charity cannot end a class struggle in the social order." 
 John looked quizzically at the magnate s daughter. "Do 
 you know, Miss Holdon, in my estimation it would be 
 just as well if you left most of the people you help to 
 starve ?" 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Bulman, that is horrid," she protested. 
 
 "Sounds so, doesn t it ?" he, admitted with a whimsi 
 cal smile, "When you ve been taught to believe charity 
 to the poor is a part of religion." 
 
 "Mr. Bulman," the girl arose, " I have always re 
 spected you, yet I have known you looked upon my work 
 amongst the poor as foolish, but I really thought your ob 
 jection was based upon what you had seen of professional 
 charity I thought you misunderstood me." 
 
 "Lord love you, child, I never misunderstood you. 
 You are one of the flowers of faith ; you will come to see 
 the sacrifice demanded of you in time. As soon as you 
 come to know that the individual no longer counts as an 
 individual, unless he has either greater capacity for so 
 cial service or for social sin than the average man, the 
 rest will be easy. The individual must ever be measured, 
 so long as man holds to the path of progress, by the at 
 titude he assumes to the social problems of his time ; 
 this and this alone gives us a line upon the worth of the 
 individual. History is written alone about the lives of 
 men and women who have served both truth and error 
 in the great crises of time. I do not misunderstand you, 
 child; I know your charity is charity; and if the rest 
 of the world s charity were as sweet, as worthy, as pure, 
 there would be no need for it. Within two or three years 
 your work would be done." He paused, but the girl 
 remaining silent, he went on : 
 
 "You do good because the system that gives you 
 wealth also produces both poverty and crime. When you 
 learn to .examine the source from which vice and poverty 
 spring, will be time enough for me to decide in my own 
 mind whether or not you are to bring blossoms to the 
 weeds, or just bloom by yourself while spending a portion 
 
44 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 of the money your father gets from the things his workers 
 produce for him, while the weeds grow up around you 
 until they finally choke out your life." 
 
 "Money, money, money ! How I hate the very sound 
 of that word !" Beatrice lifted her face flushed with in 
 dignation. "My money, father s money, what difference 
 can it make where my money comes from, even if father 
 and other rich men are opposed to your politics and 
 unions? If I see suffering in the homes of the working- 
 men I have known ever since I was a little tot, am I to 
 be denied the privilege of helping them, just because my 
 father says he cannot pay more wages, or allow Socialists 
 to work for him ?" 
 
 "When you understand the struggle, Miss Holdon, 
 you would no more offer your father s money to one of 
 his striking workmen than you would accept money that 
 had been obtained as the price of your family honor. 
 Your father is consistent because he understands there 
 jean be no sentiment in this struggle for the world s 
 wealth. If your house is to stand and you are to have 
 money for charity, the -workers must be prevented from 
 taking control of government through politics, or of in 
 dustry through organization." 
 
 "Tell me," the girl demanded, "do the majority of 
 the workers look upon charity, even my kind, as you do ?" 
 
 "I believe they do tho they hardly know why. You 
 know how hard it is to reach those amongst us who need 
 help the most? You also know the so-called charity or 
 ganizations reach more paupers than deserving poor. So 
 you can see we do not want your charity even when faced 
 by dire want but we do want the right to make our own 
 way in the world. We may not as yet know how to give 
 voice to that demand, but we are learning. And re 
 member, when you meet a man or woman who would 
 rather starve than accept even your charity you have 
 met one, if they could master the words, would say to 
 you : "M iss Holdon, your father and his friends have no 
 right to drive us into poverty, then send you to us with 
 the thing that will finally drive a great number of us into 
 pauperism. " 
 
 "Oh, how you must despise my work," her lips quiv 
 ered, and great tears welled up as she asked : "Do you 
 despise me as well?" 
 
JOEL TAKES THE MONEY 45 
 
 "Despise you, child, despise you, why you have been 
 an angel in this house for months, even if we did not take 
 any of your money," he laughed to hide a deeper feel 
 ing, "and your work, as you call it " his eyes sought 
 hers, that old quizzical smile playing over his face. "Did 
 you ever see a sweet faced little chap playing in the 
 dirty street, so intent upon his labors as he heaped to 
 gether a pile of dust that the next gust of wind would 
 catch up and scatter to the farthest corners of the city 
 so busy that the roaring traffic of the street seemed to 
 him afar off?" 
 
 "Yes, and I have seen those little tots all but killed 
 because they had forgotten that the street was not all 
 their world," she answered. 
 
 "Exactly," he replied, "and that is your work as I 
 see it; the innocent labor of a sweet child in the world s 
 great thoroughfare. A work that may not endure. When 
 you come to know the cause of poverty you will realize 
 that I am right." 
 
 "So you look upon my work as that of a child in 
 the street?" It was a question, not a retort. Measuring 
 him from head to foot she asked : "Why do men like you 
 keep up this fight? Is it because you love the men you 
 seek to have join your unions and vote the Socialist 
 ticket?" 
 
 "Love the men," John repeated after her, "me love 
 them?" Smiling grimly, he plunged on, "I do not love 
 them. As far as I am concerned about them individually 
 I would not shed a tear if half of them were converted 
 into fertilizer between this and tomorrow." Keenly 
 questioning her with his eyes he asked : "Do you think 
 I go out on the street corners and talk to the workers, 
 smug faces, snobs, and thoughtless boys who congre 
 gate, because I love them? Well, I don t. The only 
 thing that keeps me in this fight is this : I fear the 
 power of their ignorance over my life, and the lives of 
 those I love." 
 
 "You fear the power of their ignorance over your life, 
 and the lives of those you love," she repeated after him. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 CHARLES AUGUSTUS CHARITY LIST. 
 
 Beatrice Holdon looked out upon a world of per 
 plexities when she drew aside the lace draperies and 
 sent the slatted night shades rattling into their housings 
 on the morning set for her initiation into the mysteries of 
 the "hunt." She little dreamed that she was the quarry 
 the huntsman had determined to run to earth. Had she 
 known this, she would still have been ignorant of the 
 fact that he would come to the chase armed only with a 
 quiver of lies. 
 
 Donovan s wife had told her the evening before that 
 Bulman had been arrested on a street corner for talking 
 treason. Donovan was a worker in Holdon s foundry, 
 and a staunch Republican, but he declared Bulman s ar 
 rest ,an outrage against free speech. "Bulman has pe 
 culiar ideas and all that, but he s a good neighbor, and a 
 man," he insisted. 
 
 Beatrice was worried. That insistent sentence of Bul 
 man s: "I fear the power of their ignorance over my 
 life, and the lives of those I love," kept repeating itself 
 in her mind. That night in a dream she had stood before 
 a howling mob and hurled this pathetic denunciation into 
 their weird, upturned faces. 
 
 As she looked down into the dewy garden with its 
 wealth of early morning lights and shades and an all- 
 pervading perfume of sweet bloom, she thought of her 
 father and brother. Did she love them as she had be 
 fore she met the man Bulman ? Was there a fear creep 
 ing into her life, a fear that Bulman was right? Could 
 it be possible that if she knew the real cause of poverty 
 the desire to practice charity would die? 
 
 Did it matter where money came from, she asked her 
 self, and sat idly looking out over the shrubbery while 
 her mind wandered at will over the many problems she 
 had set herself to solve. 
 
 46 
 
CHARLES AUGUSTUS CHARITY LIST 47 
 
 With a start, she remembered how much it had cost 
 her to go to Bulman s after her brother had acted a mean 
 part that was but an individual case. Bulman denied 
 the power of the individual to affect anything, move any 
 thing, until his individuality was swallowed up in the de 
 mands of a great class in the social order. Then, and 
 then only, the individuality of the stronger, abler indi 
 vidual would appear above the heads of the host moving 
 to take the vantage ground spied out by the indivivdual ; 
 but the individual would sink to the level of the average, 
 were it not that the host bore him up on their shoulders. 
 Would it be as hard, cost as great a sacrifice, she asked 
 herself, to go to the poor with her mite of charity as it 
 had been to go to Bulman s that last time, did she know 
 the true relation between rich and poor between wages 
 and ownership of the workers product? 
 
 If Bulman were right, even her charity was an in 
 sult to the poor. Jf he were wrong, she would convince 
 him she considered him well worth saving. It was 
 wretched of him to flaunt love, charity and kindliness and 
 insist that the struggle must grow more bitter as great 
 fortunes accumulated. His insistence that sickening filth, 
 awful crimes, wretchedness and vice, and the all but 
 unbearable suffering of the very poor must go on so long 
 as her father and Bothers took millions out of the indus 
 tries each year shocked her. 
 
 "Oh, it cannot be true," she told herself over and 
 over again. "It cannot be true. It s too hatefully hard 
 and cruel. Christ s life and death were meant for more 
 than that it can t be true." 
 
 "A gentleman to see you," her maid announced from 
 the door. 
 
 Getting up from the window and her dreams, Beatrice 
 sent her compliments and assurance that she would be 
 down in a short time. Standing before the mirror after 
 the girl had gone she looked beyond the reflection of her 
 superb person, and asked: "Why not ask him? His 
 people are of the real aristocracy the aristocracy of 
 birth while I, if I belong at all, am but one of the new 
 rich. And Beatrice, my dear, there s a vast difference 
 between the worth of a family pride built upon the lives 
 of men and women who have been of worth to the world 
 through long generations of family building, and one 
 
48 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 built upon a difference in the price of pork or pig-iron 
 yesterday and today anyway, he ought to know. He s 
 given liberally to charity, and all the people I know, 
 even Joel says he s too good to live I ll ask him." 
 
 While Beatrice was prepared to treat him as an oracle, 
 C. Augustus Wetherby was putting the finishing touches 
 to a fixed determination to win her, and incidentally the 
 Holdon millions. 
 
 "Confounded bore some of the fellows would call 
 this charity stunt," he chuckled, "but it s got several re 
 deeming features especially when the woman furnishes 
 the coin. First, it gives her a whole lot to think about 
 besides her husband ; next, it gives him an opportunity to 
 develop some charity work of his own ; and that coupled 
 to business and the club ought to give a fellow leeway 
 enough and, by gad! the girl s worth it. Got spirit, 
 good figure, and stunning good looks, by gad ! And I m 
 the candy. Anything she sees I see whatever she wants 
 done I do it." He faced the door through which he ex 
 pected her to enter. "My jewel," he whispered, "I am 
 Naomi turned inside out, made up-to-date and to order. 
 Your people shall be my people, however much they may 
 smell of onions, garlic and frouzy cheese. Your God 
 shall be my God, even if he calls me into a Free Method 
 ist camp-meeting where heels rule higher than thinking 
 machines. I am yours a sacrifice on the altar of love, 
 and " 
 
 "Good morning, Mr. Wetherby." The voice came 
 from behind him, and he was disconcerted. 
 
 "Oh, I beg your pardon. Did my sudden salutation 
 startle you?" 
 
 "I assure you it did it was as though the goddess 
 of the morning had as sumed shape and voice." Noting 
 her quick frown, he hurried on, as he offered his hand, 
 "You see I was so absorbed in the thought of meeting 
 upon common ground, one who believes in in in well, 
 to use the plain every day term believes in charity." 
 
 "And you really believe in charity ?" Her whole heart 
 was in the question. 
 
 "Why yes, don t you?" 
 
 "Oh, yes ; I have for years ; but some people say such 
 horrid things against it; while so many who claim to 
 
CHARLES AUGUSTUS* CHARITY LIST 49 
 
 know all about it say in just so many words that my 
 work is not charitable at all " 
 
 "They re beasts!" the gallant lover exploded, and 
 begged pardon the next instant: "I mean they re worse 
 than why Miss Holdon your work is is in fact, is 
 above reproach." He drew his handkerchief from the 
 pocket from which it peeped so gracefully, and indus 
 triously wiping his ruddy countenance sought to get 
 back to earth. 
 
 "I am glad to have your approval," his hostess as 
 sured him as she led the way to the library. 
 
 When they were seated she went on : "I thought we 
 might as well spend an hour or so on your charitable 
 organizations before going out. You see, the women will 
 not have their work done up much before 10 o clock, and 
 by that time I can have a pretty fair understanding of the 
 difference between your pet charities and my own work." 
 
 Mr. Wetherby sat limp by the great library table, 
 occasionally lifting his eyes to the girl on the other side. 
 "Did you bring the list along?" she inquired, smiling 
 sweetly across at him. 
 
 "Oh yes, certainly," he thrust a hand into his pockets 
 one after another and finally produced the document. 
 
 "Now don t you think if you were to let me take the 
 list and run through it, you could explain the aims, ob 
 jects and methods of work employed by these organiza 
 tions?" She reached for the paper. He hesitated, but 
 being unable to formulate an excuse for refusing her re 
 quest, reluctantly handed it to her. 
 
 Beatrice took the list, comprising some two dozen or 
 ganizations. Some of them were quite well known to her, 
 and as she read her face grew radiant with hope. This 
 young man was a charity worker. He would understand 
 her troubles. He should be the link necessary to 
 strengthen her against Bulman s attacks. 
 
 "My, you are a worker! She looked her admiration 
 and entirely misunderstood his blushes. "And do you 
 support all these institutions?" she asked. 
 
 "Yes/ he answered. 
 
 "It s lovely, perfectly lovely. Why, Mr. Wetherby, 
 I never thought of any one being so liberal in his support 
 of sweet charity." With eyes intent upon the end of her 
 
50 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 right forefinger as it slowly checked off his hastily pre 
 pared charities, he was startled by her next speech. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Wetherby, I ve found something. Here s 
 Andrews Woman s Home on your list now, I wonder 
 how much you have given them ?" The visitor moved un 
 easily in his chair. 
 
 "How much? You surely know why, I can tell to 
 a dollar what each of my cases has cost me." 
 
 "Of course I know," C. Augustus replied quickly. 
 Here was something he thought he might play to the 
 limit and s he couldn t catch him. "You see I couldn t 
 name the figure offhand without well, I believe I do 
 know, for a wonder. Yes, I gave them fifty dollars six 
 months ago, and last month they came to me with a poor 
 mouth and I put up a cool hundred." 
 
 "You did !" she exclaimed. Getting up hurriedly she 
 left the table and soon returned with a large scrap- 
 book. "Well," she declared triumphantly, "you were 
 robbed of just one hundred and fifty dollars. Read that." 
 
 For a year Beatrice, in defense of her system of 
 giving, had been gathering every scrap of evidence pub 
 lished in the press of the city relative to charity frauds. 
 The volume of evidence she handed across the table to 
 her guest told, in a clipping at the end of her finger, of 
 the raiding of the "Andrews Home," and laid bare the 
 system of robbery practiced alike upon the public and 
 the poor women it was supposed to support. 
 
 "And only last month you gave them one hundred 
 dollars. It almost makes me cry when I think of the 
 good I could have done with it and they were exposed 
 in all the papers three months ago." 
 
 "I assure you, Miss Holdon, I do not give as blindly 
 as that as a rule." The visitor had assumed a fine air of 
 superiority, but it evaporated suddenly as she began : 
 
 "I believe you agreed to cut out all unworthy organ 
 izations, did you not?" C. Augustus nodded in the af 
 firmative. "Then here goes the pencil through this one. 
 Blind Man s Protective Union, " she slowly read from 
 the list, and asked "what do you know about this one?" 
 With elbows on the table before her, and a sweet, dimpled 
 chin supported by an arch formed of interlocked hand, 
 the girl sat regarding the representative of organized 
 charity. 
 
CHARLES AUGUSTUS CHARITY LIST 5! 
 
 "Well, yes, I can tell you something about that one. 
 They re a jolly nest of old bats, and " 
 
 "Old bats?" the inflection was strong. 
 
 "Yes, that s what they call each other sort of a pet 
 name they re all right, all right." 
 
 "What does this union do for them, may I ask?" 
 
 "Do for them? Why, it furnishes them a club room 
 with pool and billiards and, and lots of things," he 
 insisted. 
 
 "Pool ? So the old bats play pool. Now Mr. Weth- 
 erby, would you mind telling me what, kind of pool those 
 blind men play?" 
 
 He stared at her for a moment, then the answer came, 
 and he wondered a hundred times afterward how it hap 
 pened to slip out. 
 
 "Blind pool of course." 
 
 The girl shrugged her shoulders, drew the pencil 
 across the "Old Bats Union," then gave her attention 
 to the next on the list, while Mr. Wetherby wondered 
 what next, and thanked his lucky stars she had not 
 pressed the Old Bats further. 
 
 "The Little Ones Provident Association," she read 
 from the list, and asked : "What do you know about it?" 
 
 "Oh, that s one I got interested in through an old 
 hen I beg your pardon, an old lady who brought me a 
 prospectus a long time ago, and I ve kept giving when 
 ever they sent for the mazuma." 
 
 Beatrice got up from the table. "Mr. Wetherby," she 
 said, "I must insist that you treat me differently no, not 
 me, but the thing we are discussing. Old hen and ma 
 zuma may sound all right when a lot of thoughtless 
 young fellows are together; but here with me it isn t 
 just the language one would " 
 
 "I implore your forgiveness, Miss Holdon. Please 
 believe me, I meant neither disrespect to you, to char 
 ity, or to the others I was thoughtless." .Beatrice ac 
 cepted the apology as sincere, and said as she took her 
 seat: 
 
 "I may have been rude I was, but I am so in earn 
 est, and I do so need your help, and you seemed " 
 
 "I seemed a fool," he broke in, "but I am not; and 
 you shall have my help. I want to confess that I don t 
 know a thing about those charities," pointing to the list. 
 
52 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "What money I have given to charity has simply been 
 given I never asked, knew, or cared where it went." He 
 drew a deep breath and looked at her squarely. "There, 
 it s out at last, but if you had pushed on down that list 
 I d have put my foot into it deeper and deeper, so I 
 thought I had best make a clean breast of it. Will you 
 forgave me?" 
 
 Ignoring his offence as well as his plea for forgive 
 ness, she asked: 
 
 "And you gave all your money to organizations you 
 knew nothing about, and never knew whether it reached 
 those it was intended for or not ?" 
 
 "That s about the size of it," he admitted, and lied 
 like a gentleman, for he had never given a cent to charity 
 in his life, tho he had managed to gain a reputation as 
 a charity worker, and any number of dollars from his 
 father whom he had taught to believe the fiction. 
 
 Beatrice was looking beyond him, her eyes suffused 
 with unshed tears, as she said : "I wanted to ask you 
 some questions this morning. I need help so badly 
 that " 
 
 "Tell me what you want. I ll do all you ask why, 
 Miss Holdon, I ll throw that infernal list in the fire we 
 won t even think of it again." She heard little, or at 
 least heeded but little, that he was saying, and startled 
 him with her next question. 
 
 "Do you know anything about the working people? 
 What they talk, what they think?" She was thinking of 
 her last visit to Bulman s. 
 
 Wetherby got instantly to his feet, and striking the 
 table with his fist exclaimed: "Now you give me some 
 thing to talk upon. Why, Miss Holdon, I know the 
 working people like a book. They talk rot. The lazy 
 beggars would be paupers if they were not driven to 
 work why, they re so ignorant that any flannel-mouthed 
 chump can organize them to strike, and murder, and 
 chase after red flags. And by the eternal, their brats are 
 as impudent today as their fathers were ten years ago." 
 
 "Do you believe they do not think that they must 
 be driven to work?" The question came in level tones. 
 
 "I know it. Hasn t the old I beg your pardon my 
 father had all kinds of trouble in his refineries for ten 
 years? What do they expect? Automobiles and pianos 
 
CHARLES AUGUSTUS CHARITY LIST 53 
 
 for their disgustingly dirty shacks? Miss Holdon, such 
 men as your father and mine stand between the working- 
 cattle and starvation, yet they are talking today of taking 
 our property away from us." 
 
 "Still you contend they do not think?" 
 
 "Why as for that, I suppose they call it thinking, but 
 I tell you it s nothing in God s world but anarchy. What 
 would you think if it was put to you squarely to give 
 them all your wealth and let them divide the profits of 
 your father s business amongst them?" Confident of the 
 answer he waited. 
 
 After due deliberation she replied: "If it would lift 
 from their homes the blight of poverty and make them 
 and their children happier and better, I would say amen." 
 
 He sat down suddenly and looked at her with a grow 
 ing wonder in his eyes. 
 
 "I fear the power of their ignorance over my life," 
 she repeated aloud, and the man took it as a text. 
 
 "That s it," he exclaimed, "the power of their ignor 
 ance over our lives. You let them get the upper hand. 
 Let those ignorant demagogues rant and rave, and the 
 ignorant ones will be the first to follow. As soon as the 
 noise gets high enough the rest will fall in line, and 
 hell I beg your pardon, but I mean it hell will be to 
 pay. I tell you we have got to keep the laboring people 
 in their place. If the laborer wasn t so beastly ignorant 
 he would know who to thank for his bread and butter. 
 You never said truer words in your life it s the thing 
 we rich men have most to fear the power of their ig 
 norance over our lives. Just look at the trouble we are 
 having with them now, and more coming." 
 
 "But it was a laboring man who said that, not I," she 
 interrupted. "And he said it of his own class, meaning, 
 that the rich could do anything they wanted to with the 
 workers, and for that reason he feared them." 
 
 "Like their impudence," was his only comment. 
 
 They sat silent for a time, then Beatrice said : "Mr. 
 Wetherby, I want to know which is right, you or this 
 workingman. I am in deadly earnest. It seems to me 
 you are too partisan. Yet, when I think of it, I know a 
 Socialist who contends that your attitude toward labor is 
 the only honest one an employer may hold. He says in 
 so many words that the logical attitude for an employ- 
 
54 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 ing capitalist is to buy labor in the cheapest market and 
 sell the laborers product in the highest and on top of 
 that asserts his faith in our ultimate overthrow. The 
 thing I want to get at is the cause that must underlie 
 such extreme opinions as Mr. Bulman and you hold. I 
 know so little, and hope so much I want to find a mid 
 dle ground where I may exist and be comfortable. I 
 cannot be comfortable with all the vice, and crime, and 
 poverty, and strife I see about me. I hoped so much 
 from our discussion this morning and you are even 
 more bitter than my brother, if that be possible." 
 
 While the girl sat silent, thinking how deeply she had 
 been disappointed, yet how fully her faith in her own 
 work had been vindicated, as against organized charity, 
 her visitor was busy rearranging his lines of battle. 
 
 Woman has always been a puzzle to man and worth 
 a life of labor, even though death come before the solu 
 tion. Wetherby felt that the young woman across the 
 table from him was the limit, he also felt that he would 
 need time in which to equip himself for the battle, and 
 was greatly relieved when she said : 
 
 "I had expected to have you escort me to several 
 places I must visit today, but your limited knowledge of 
 real charity, coupled with your extreme views upon the 
 integrity of the working people, makes me doubt the 
 the wisdom of expc.sing you to a nearer view of their 
 disgustingly dirty shacks/ There was a wealth of 
 contempt in her voice, and it went home. 
 
 "I am sorry to have offended ; sorry to have suffered 
 in your good opinion. However, you misjudge me. I 
 need to learn may I come again when I have had time 
 to investigate some of the things we have discussed?" 
 
 He left with a reluctant consent to his plea. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 WHO IS JOHN BULMAN? 
 
 "Who is John Bulman?" a stranger in the city asked 
 of a friend who was quoting Bulman, and urging this 
 stranger to hear him. 
 
 "Bulman is a man, besides he is a husband, father, 
 citizen, mechanic and student; yet, withal, those who sit 
 in judgment upon the world say he is a fool, and prove 
 it to the satisfaction of the majority of those who care 
 to listen." 
 
 "Why is this man a fool?" the stranger asked. 
 
 "Because," the other answered, "his life is one long- 
 drawn-out sacrifice for the things he believes because 
 he refuses to live a lie refuses to eat from the meat pots 
 of his time more than enough to keep soul and body to 
 gether." 
 
 "That is heroic, not foolish !" the stranger exclaimed. 
 
 "Surely," the friend smiled, "the man who comes up 
 out of the ruck of labor and brings with him both a beau 
 tiful faith and a fixed purpose a purpose that even the 
 crying needs of his own family may not shake, is a man 
 well worthy the respect of even a bitter enemy." 
 
 "Why do they call him a fool, if he possesses all 
 these fine attributes?" the stranger questioned. 
 
 "Because he is a Socialist." 
 
 "I don t blame them. This Bulman is crazy," the 
 stranger replied instantly. 
 
 "Let us take a closer look at this man before we de 
 cide so weighty a question," the friend insisted, smiling, 
 and straightway they discussed not Bulman, but his phil 
 osophy. Let me touch the life of this man they have 
 forgotten, then pass on. 
 
 In his young manhood, this "fool" lived up to his 
 present reputation, but talked like a philosopher. Born a 
 mechanic, he was fortunate above the majority of his 
 fellows in that when the fates were unkind when he 
 
 55 
 
56 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 struggled to get away from the need of hard labor he 
 could always go back to his tools. And he had often 
 gone back, and as often measured his talents against the 
 cunning of other men. The world says he has failed. 
 When yon have finished this story you will ask yourself 
 the same old question regarding this man. To-day he is 
 one of the three most pitiful sights this world holds a 
 jobless father with mouths to feed a fallen woman a 
 laboring child. 
 
 John was but one of a brood of children and fought 
 his way to a fair education. Since he refused to be 
 bound by the religion of his mother, or subscribe to the 
 politics of his father, the other members of the family 
 who love the savory smell of the flesh pots had come to 
 accept the judgment of the world upon their brother. 
 
 John Bulman has been out of work for just a month 
 we m*y understand him better if we go to his home 
 to-night. 
 
 A brother living in a distant city had been called to 
 our metropolis on business and had sought out this 
 "fool" the only member of the Bulman family who is 
 not satisfied to be saved and to save dollars. 
 
 "Well, John, got sickness in the family?" was the 
 first utterance of the prosperous one in the home of the 
 "fool." 
 
 "Yes, wife has been under the weather for a while 
 from worrying over the boy you see Robert met with 
 an accident, but the girls are well, and I am rugged." 
 The "fool" stretched himself to his full height and sur 
 veyed the well groomed man before him. 
 
 "Well, it s too bad, too bad; but how s your work? 
 You re with the Nixon Company, are you not?" 
 
 "I was," John answered, "until they demanded that I 
 surrender my political convictions as the price of my 
 job." 
 
 "Ah, that s it. I had forgotten but, John, you don t 
 mean to tell me you couldn t dodge that to save your 
 job when your wife and boy are ill. Why, you are in 
 no position to be independent." The prosperous member 
 of the family was in earnest. 
 
 "Oh, I realize that," John replied, "but much as I 
 love my family, I do not love them better than other 
 thousands of men have loved. They dodged the issue; 
 
WHO IS JOHN BULMAN ? 57 
 
 their families lived for a time on the price of their sur 
 render, but the issue they dodged still lives, while other 
 men s wives and babies are starving for the want of more 
 than food " 
 
 "There you go again," the brother interrupted, tes 
 tily. "Socialism, nothing but Socialism. I just thought 
 that when they told me down the street that you were 
 not working." The brother put a hand on John s shoul 
 der and added: "John, you don t need to be a Socialist. 
 You have some talent, and can make your way in the 
 world. You don t need to take up this cry of the rab 
 ble." 
 
 "I don t need to be a Socialist?" 
 
 "No, and I tell you frankly, I wouldn t have a work 
 er in my shops going about amongst the men trying to 
 make them discontented." The prosperous citizen was 
 brutally frank. This fool brother should get no encour 
 agement from him. 
 
 "But I do even worse things than you mention," John 
 replied. 
 
 "Worse things!" 
 
 "Yes, I go out on street corners, in halls, any place 
 they will have me, and urge the workers to organize for 
 the overthrow of capitalism." The "fool s" face was 
 aglow. 
 
 "Do you wonder that you were discharged? What 
 could you expect?" 
 
 "Brother," the fool replied, "I have not said I ex 
 pected anything else I have not complained." 
 
 "But, man alive, think of your family! What does 
 the Bible say the man who will not provide for his 
 family is worse than an infidel that s it. Worse than 
 an infidel." Two well saved eyes accuse, but the "fool" 
 does not blench. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I seem to remember," he replied, "and I 
 also recall some other passages of holy writ: Ye shall 
 not grind the faces of the poor, and this one: Hypo 
 crites, how shall you escape damnation you are as 
 whited sepulchers filled with dead men s bones. Yes, 
 the Bible offers consolation to all sorts and conditions of 
 men while as many commencing the other way around, 
 find in it condemnation for the other fellow. But 
 brother," he added, seriously, "it seems to me we are 
 
58 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 wasting your valuable time. I have no present hope of 
 bringing you to see the world as I see it, and I assure 
 you, you cannot take me back to your religion or your 
 politics it s useless ; let us drop it." 
 
 "I cannot. I dare not. It seems to me the Lord 
 must have sent me here at this time, as he sent his 
 apostles of old," the brother announced with unction. 
 "John, you are ruining your life ; your home ; the chances 
 of your children." 
 
 "He who would save his life shall lose it," John said, 
 and for the first time a note of anger showed in his 
 brother s voice as he said: 
 
 "I despise to hear people who have refused Christ 
 and His salvation eternally quoting the Bible." 
 
 John s mellow laugh rang out, but he checked him 
 self. "Brother, I beg your pardon but your retort was 
 discourteous suppose we Socialists were to offer that 
 sort of argument when men question our philosophy ?" 
 
 "That s not argument, John, not argument. The 
 Bible is an inspired work, while the trash you believe is 
 the product of men who were every one of them soured 
 failures." 
 
 "Brother," John took a peep into Robert s room, 
 "don t you think the weather a safer topic, or would you 
 like to take a look at the boy? He has been cooped up 
 here so long that any one from the outside is a great 
 treat to him." 
 
 "John s weakening," the good brother thought, as 
 they went into the boy s room. 
 
 "Why, Miss Holdon, you here?" John had not seen 
 her when he looked into the room a moment before, and 
 went on: "This is my brother, Miss Holdon, he has 
 just been reading the law to me. He says I don t need 
 to be a Socialist, and all that. You two ought to be 
 friends." 
 
 There was a deep reproach in the girl s eyes as she 
 looked up at John, but it was a smiling face, the saved 
 and sane brother looked into as he took her hand. 
 
 "Now, you two can say things about me to your 
 heart s content, but I ought to warn you that if you go 
 beyond a certain limit Robert will tell me, won t you 
 Bob?" the father asked, stroking the pale boy s dark 
 hair. As he turned to leave the room, he said in ex- 
 
WHO IS JOHN BULMAN? 59 
 
 planation of his departure : "I promised to meet a man 
 over in the next block at this time, and as there is hope 
 of getting a job out of it I know you will excuse me." 
 
 The prosperous brother felt ill at ease when left with 
 Miss Holdon and the boy. Everything about her told of 
 wealth and refinement, and the only connection to his 
 mind between this poor cottage housing a crippled boy, 
 a sick woman and a man out of work spelled charity. 
 He did not know of the great gulf that divides poverty 
 from pauperism. He did feel that his dignity, his fam 
 ily, was being made to suffer keenly, and he credited 
 himself with bearing the burden for the entire Bulman 
 family at that moment. With this thought uppermost, 
 he decided that he would not try to shield his criminally 
 foolish brother. He would give the young woman to 
 understand that the rest of the Bulman family were 
 made of better stuff than that developed in the person of 
 the "fool." 
 
 "I presume you are engaged in charity work," he 
 began. 
 
 Beatrice answered "Yes," and fell to wondering what 
 sort of man he was. He carried his head well, looked 
 clean, but seemed to be laboring under some embarrass 
 ment. 
 
 "I am very glad I have met you here, for I want you 
 to know that the rest of the Bulmans are not like John 
 and " a long pause. 
 
 "Not like John?" she questioned, seeing he was at a 
 loss for words. 
 
 "No," said he, "so far as I know he is the only black 
 sheep in the family, and I assure you we feel the dis 
 grace. The idea of a man of his ability being such a 
 fool. Look at his family. His home. And he talking 
 Socialism and allowing you to feed his children. It s 
 disgraceful. Absolutely disgraceful." He strode up and 
 down the narrow confines of the room. "If he was act 
 ually in need, on account of some misfortune his own 
 family I, myself, would help him." 
 
 "But, Mr. Bulman, you don t understand " 
 
 "I do understand. John is a fool. The idea " 
 
 "Hush," her hand lay upon the outraged citizen s 
 arm, "Robert is crying, and and you are terribly mis 
 taken your brother would not accept a penny of my 
 
60 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 money. He hates what the world calls charity, and I 
 believe, has a much better reason for hating it than you 
 can possibly have." 
 
 "Hates charity, Miss Holdon, and yet for a fool no 
 tion brings his family to a condition where they may be 
 forced to accept it to-morrow? Really, I can t grasp it 
 I can conceive how you may be interested in this poor 
 boy and John s wife, but you must know in your own 
 heart that my brother is throwing himself and family 
 into the gutter. Why, what chance can these children 
 have compared to the advantages I can give mine? 
 and John was my superior in many ways when we were 
 young men." 
 
 "You do your brother a cruel injustice," the girl 
 answered quietly. "He is the grandest man I know he 
 has conquered himself. Won t you try to understand 
 him, Mr. Bulman? He has put the world before his 
 own family, and dollars and cents mean nothing to him 
 beyond the satisfying of the simple wants of his family. 
 He is fighting a battle for other men s children yes, 
 and fighting for men who are too weak, too ignorant, too 
 selfish, to think beyond to-day." 
 
 "Are you a Socialist?" he demanded. 
 
 "No I am more than half a coward, the rest uncer 
 tainty," she replied. 
 
 "I don t quite catch your meaning, Miss Holdon, but 
 surely, all other things aside, you cannot defend John, 
 or justify him in jeopardizing his family s support to 
 the extent of giving up his work because they couldn t 
 stand for his his well, let s say stirring up the men?" 
 
 For a moment Beatrice sat silent, her eyes upon the 
 face of John s crippled son, then she looked up with a 
 smile. 
 
 "Mr. Bulman, are you a Christian?" she asked. 
 
 "Land, yes ! I ve been an active worker in the 
 church for years." 
 
 "You believe in religious and political liberty, do you 
 not?" 
 
 "Certainly ; the two are practically inseparable but, 
 may I ask what this has to do with John s case? You 
 know I am not on trial," he laughed. 
 
 Beatrice s face was seriousness itself as she answered, 
 "We are all on trial." 
 
WHO IS JOHN BULMAN? 6l 
 
 "Oh, yes, I suppose that is true to a certain extent, 
 Miss Holdon, but when a man has made his peace with 
 God, as long as he follows in the strait and narrow way, 
 the burden is light and the way plain." 
 
 "But suppose you went down to the shops to work 
 some morning and the president of the company should 
 send for you to go to the office and should tell you that 
 a gentleman who was there with him, had informed him 
 that you were a Christian, and you should answer : Yes, 
 I am a Christian, and am proud of it, and he should 
 say, Well, either you give me your promise this morn 
 ing to give up Christianity or you must quit work/ what 
 would you do?" 
 
 "The supposition is ridiculous I beg your pardon, 
 but it is ridiculous!" he declared with vehemence. "In 
 the first place this is a Christian land; in the second 
 place the cases are not parallel." 
 
 "Yet you say you believe in political liberty, and ad 
 mit that religious and political liberty are inseparable." 
 
 "Surely, you don t want me to believe you dignify 
 John s dreams by calling them either political or re 
 ligious?" he insisted. 
 
 "Mr. Bulman," she replied, "your brother is not a 
 dreamer. All the evils he fights are realities, and he be 
 lieves it possible to destroy them. And I will. venture 
 that his politics is dearer to him and has cost him more 
 of sacrifice than my religion could cost me in a thousand 
 years. When Mr. Nixon demanded that he either give 
 up his political convictions or his work, he asked your 
 brother to give up more than any religion he demanded 
 the surrender of a man he asked that another mental 
 slave be born into the world, and God knows we have too 
 many of them already." The girl arose, and bending 
 over the boy, said: "Mr. Bulman, your brother is of 
 more worth to the world than any thousand men who 
 have sold their convictions." Kissing the boy, whose 
 bright eyes thanked her a thousand fold for her defense 
 of his father, she quitted the room. 
 
 The clock ticks off the passing time in this humble cot 
 tage, but it does not toll off the seconds in dollars and 
 cents, dollars and cents, dollars and cents. Privation, 
 privation, privation, are the words that come from its 
 rusty throat. 
 
62 - MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 The prosperous man sat thinking while waiting the 
 return of his brother. So this was the daughter of a 
 great millionaire and she championed the fool of the 
 family. She said she was not a Socialist well, probably 
 this charity work had made a crank of her. He had 
 often heard that women, and even men, who had given, 
 years to work amongst the poor got into a way of being 
 very uncomfortable themselves and made others almost 
 as nervous as well. No wonder John was "set" when 
 he had such encouragement. That was all bosh about re 
 ligion but the girl would make a good lawyer. He 
 wished John would hurry home on second thought, he 
 was rather glad he had not come it would be best for 
 him to go to a hotel for the night anyway. He couldn t 
 offer John money even a loan was out of the question 
 just then. It did beat the dickens where money went. 
 If John did get in the ditch, and would let him know, he 
 would write the other members of the family and lay 
 the case before them. But that girl he hadn t expected 
 to hear anything like that from her. He was glad John 
 had not taken any of her money; he would say that 
 much. "Fm mighty glad I wouldn t listen to him when 
 he wanted to carry me away with him on his chase 
 after rainbows fifteen years ago," was his thought as he 
 surveyed the poverty of the room, and the crippled boy 
 and the lean bed. The four other rooms he had seen 
 came up before his mind s eye he saw his brother 
 walking the streets looking for work ; the two daughters, 
 of fourteen and sixteen, working, working, working, 
 day after day; the sick wife, worn out in the years that 
 of right should be ushering her into the mother s earth 
 ly paradise the enjoyment of her children all of this 
 he saw then his own home flashed before his mental 
 vision. His home supported at a cost of two hundred 
 dollars a month. Still they were not satisfied with what 
 he could give them ; his income often falling short of 
 meeting the demands made upon it by his wife and two 
 children yet, if the deal that had brought him to the 
 city were successful and it promised well he would 
 double his income; his family would then be satisfied. 
 Dreaming, dreaming, the wise man in the home of a 
 fool hugged himself and smiled. 
 
 Of course, this wretched poverty was terrible, but 
 
WHO IS JOHN BULMAN? 63 
 
 John had made his bed and must lie in it. Still, the wise 
 man felt good the business set for to-morrow looked 
 good. He reached into a pocket and brought forth a 
 gold coin. 
 
 "Here, Robert, is a little present from your uncle." 
 He tossed the coin within reach of the boy s well hand. 
 
 "Thanks, uncle," Robert answered, tossing it back, 
 "I couldn t take it after what you said about my father. 
 Miss Holdon knows he s the best father in the world. 
 I don t need anything he can t get for me." The boy s 
 eyes were bright and hard. Here was another social 
 rebel born to battle for the right to a full and free man 
 hood. A brave spirit doomed to imprisonment in a 
 crippled body because greed had ground that body under 
 its iron heel. 
 
 "A chip off the old block," the prosperous man mut 
 tered as he stooped to pick up the piece of gold. He 
 looked sternly at the boy upon the lean bed. 
 
 "Robert, you may have as little understanding of 
 the value of money as your father, but I ll warrant that 
 the girls and your mother will know what to do with it," 
 he ventured, as he laid the coin on the rickety little table. 
 
 "Don t you leave it," Robert panted, lifting himself 
 until the pain in his maimed body showed through every 
 feature on his thin face "don t you leave it, unless you 
 want me to tell them all the mean things you said about 
 my father. I don t want to tell them, but if you leave 
 that money I will, and none of them will touch it." 
 
 As he sank back upon his pillow the prosperous man 
 took up his gold and silently left the room. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 MARTHA MOVES TO TOWN, 
 
 Charles Harris is neither more nor less worthy of 
 consideration at our hands than are the millions of his 
 fellow toilers who plan, build and man our mighty en 
 gines of industry. Are they not planning for the greater 
 machines of to-morrow? And will they not be asked to 
 give life and limb to the building, together with a life 
 slavery at the machine when it is finished? If happily 
 their children escape the honor of being tied to the great 
 crunching jaws of these man-built engines we shall have 
 solved a mighty problem, and their labor will not have 
 been in vain. 
 
 This young mechanic of ours came of clean stock, 
 as we have seen, and had been allowed to follow his bent 
 for mechanics without parental interference, his parents 
 being too poor to harbor ambitions for him above the 
 simple life of a clean living worker. 
 
 Thus we find the youth thinking day and night of the 
 flasks, compounds, cams, cogs, pinions, levers, eccentrics, 
 etc., etc., that shall constitute, when assembled, a mould 
 ing machine in which a perfect casting may be produced 
 at a tithe of the cost of hand labor. As he bends to his 
 task over a pile of moulder s sand, or takes his turn at 
 the ladle in Winslow s foundry, his mind is also bent 
 bent to the task he has determined to finish. 
 
 In the residence district of the town in which Charles 
 Harris found employment after leaving home, is the 
 residence of "Jed" and Martha Holcomb, who sold the 
 old "Plummer place" and rented the "home farm" in 
 order to give Mary the advantage of an education above 
 that obtained by the daughters of the average farmer. 
 
 Dr. Norton s wife is still telling the story of Martha 
 Holcomb s arrival in the city as a fixture, and we append 
 it here: 
 
 Martha, the mother of Mary, Moses and Peter, had 
 64 
 
I swan ef I hain t most forgot all I wanted to ask you a-seein that pesky 
 nig-g-er a diddlin an a daddlin with that carpet." Fagfe 65. 
 
MARTHA MOVES TO TOWN 65 
 
 not yet taken the last feather bed from the line, where it 
 had been hung, together with its fellows, to air upon its 
 arrival in town at the very peak of a hay ladder load of 
 her household goods, before she was somewhat convers 
 ant with the neighborhood into which she was being 
 transplanted. 
 
 "I say, there," she called to the doctor s wife, who 
 stood in a neighboring yard directing the operations of a 
 colored man who seemed bent upon putting in the re 
 mainder of the day beating at a single rug, while a dozen 
 others lay ready for like treatment. The doctor s wife 
 turned from the negro to face her new neighbor, who 
 had advanced to the low partition fence. 
 
 "Be you a Baptis ?" 
 
 The negro paused, his arm uplifted. 
 
 "Why, yes," the doctor s wife answered in surprise; 
 then to the darkey said: "Toe, if you don t do your 
 
 work better, I ll surely have to get " She paused 
 
 there for two very good reasons. The negro went to 
 work as though his life depended upon it, and the neigh 
 bor across the fence was talking. 
 
 "Glad to hear it," Martha responded / but I swan ef 
 I hain t most forgot all I wanted to ask you a-seein 
 that pesky nigger a diddlin an a daddlin with that car 
 pet why, he s bin most all afternoon a spattin that one 
 piece. How much d you hev t pay a critter like that? I 
 wouldn t give im house room. I d a heap druther hev 
 one of them Jew peddlers sleep in my spare bed than t 
 have him in th barn now, who s livin on th other side 
 of us? an what church is that down th street? I told 
 Jed, he s my husband, an I told Mary, that s th slim- 
 mist one of th two you seen in th yard whilst you peeked 
 
 out of that squatty little winder " the woman on 
 
 tfre other side of the fence blushed and started to stam 
 mer either an excuse or denial, but the new neighbor 
 waved speech from that quarter aside and proceeded: 
 "Oh, I didn t mind; I says to Mary when she noticed 
 you, I reckon that s town manners, I says, an anyway 
 I m goin t be neighbors an which church did you say 
 it was?" 
 
 "The Universalist church." It was the first chance 
 Mrs. Norton had to answer a question, and as for Joe, 
 he had lost all interest in his rugs. 
 
66 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "You don t say! A Universalite church right in our 
 door yard, as you might say. That s just like Jed Hoi- 
 comb; I told him t be sure an not t git into no disrep- 
 table neighborhood, an here he goes an sets hisself in a 
 stone s throw of them heathens an you re a Baptis ? 
 an what might your husband s business be?" 
 
 "My husband s a doctor Joe put another rug on the 
 line, that one will have to do/ 
 
 "So he s a doctor any new babies hereabouts?" 
 With both headshake and smile the wife answered in 
 the negative. 
 
 "Could you say who them people is that went out in 
 one of them newfangled contraptions they call a auto 
 mobile, jest as we was a-comin in with th last load 
 them as lives over th way in that house with all of them 
 thingymediddles on th portico? * 
 
 "Oh, that s Mr. Judson s place ; he s a board of trade 
 man Joe, you must get those rugs done." 
 
 "Well, I declare ! A board of trade man, an a Uni 
 versalite church, an all in th same yard, as you might 
 say. You wait, I swan if Jed don t git a piece of my 
 mind. I said partickler, when him an Mary wanted t 
 sell th lower farm an move t town, Jed Holcomb, says 
 I, Tm a Baptis , an I m not a-goin t give up my pure 
 an undefiled life fer neither of you, nor for nobody. If 
 you two s set, I says, on a movin t town you got t 
 hunt up a good Christian neighborhood fer me t live in 
 you jest wait till I git " 
 
 "Mother, come here. We want to know how you 
 want these curtains put up," a girlish voice called from 
 the Holcomb back door. 
 
 "So you re a Baptis well, I m right glad. I ve got 
 t go now, but I ll run. right over th first thing in th 
 morning an git acquainted. We ll be glad t hev some 
 one t go t church with t sort of break th ice fer us, as 
 you might say." Martha had had one eye on Joe while 
 she was visitin with her neighbor, and as she turned to 
 go to the house, she threw this at him over her shoulder : 
 "I d like t hev th runnin of you, you lazy, good-fer- 
 nothin , I d soon take that grin out of you." 
 
 The doctor s wife was still looking blankly at the 
 door behind which her new neighbor had disappeared 
 but the moment before, when she was recalled to the 
 
MARTHA MOVES TO TOWN 6? 
 
 present by the sound of a well-grown chuckle behind 
 her. As she turned to look at Joe, he touched his cap 
 and said: "She s a-comin back in the mornin ," then 
 gave way to another burst of mirth. 
 
 "You hardly expect me to laugh with you, do you 
 Joe?" the doctor s wife asked, grimly, as she turned to 
 the house. 
 
 Joe scratched his head, took a leisurely survey of the 
 neighborhood, then fell upon the rug and beat it with a 
 will. "Ise mighty glad my ole oman s a Meffodes an 
 I reckon Misses Norton am right she hain t no laugh 
 a-comin long as dis new one am a Baptis like herself." 
 
; I AFTER IX. 
 
 A WCSHIPER AND A REBEL. 
 
 Six children wor born to Jed and Martha Holcomb; 
 three died in infacy and for each visit of the grim 
 reaper to her horn Martha charged herself with some 
 great and grievou-. .11 against the inflexible laws of her 
 God. After acceptig her losses as direct manifestation 
 of the displeasure c Deity, there remained but one thing 
 to do, and she di 
 
 Her hand was : iron and found occupation almost 
 daily in administer!^ punishment upon the children left 
 to her care. Her :ngue was vitriol, and its harsh out 
 pourings, its viciou threats even against the lives of her 
 little ones, drove oe to rebellion against both her re 
 ligion and her la\v. while a second defended himself by 
 practicing dissimuition. 
 
 Moses, the oldst son left to them, resented the whip 
 pings and harsh cnimands of his mother, while secretly 
 pitying his father *ho suffered the rasping peevishness 
 of his mentally unalanced wife in silence. 
 
 One Sunday mrning, for some trivial mischief com 
 mitted by Peter an Mary, Moses was soundly whipped, 
 then ordered into le straight-laced uniform assigned to 
 the Christian s Sabath, and with the rest of the family 
 hauled to church in the way he leaned over and shak 
 ing his clinched st in his brother s face, whispered: 
 "If I git home aK* I m going to half kill you for lying 
 on me this mornm." 
 
 "Half kill yoi and "beat your brains out," together 
 with "skin you ave" were favorite expressions with 
 the Christian moter of Moses, aged ten, and Peter, aged 
 eight. By these eciearments she sought to convey love s 
 message to her ciidren. 
 
 Moses knew te lesson for that particular Sabbath 
 dealt with the heious sin of blasphemy, and one of the 
 lesson helps he hd studied with the rest dealt with the 
 
 68 
 
A WORSHIPER AND A REBEL 69 
 
 fool who had said in his heart there is no God. The text 
 was illuminated by incidents quoted from the lives of 
 ancient peoples, wherein those who had been foolish 
 enough to curse God had straightway been executed. As 
 a further support to the text, incidents said to belong to 
 present day happenings were brought forward to prove 
 that the Lord still dealt out swift justice against all who 
 would dare doubt his existence. 
 
 Moses, smarting under the stripes of the lash, and 
 suffering in his proud young soul all the tortures of the 
 damned, had decided to end it all as soon as he got to the 
 church. He would have cursed God out in the barn 
 where he went to salve his bruise- with tears he dare 
 not shed under the eyes of the family if he had not 
 wanted to make sure of finishing the thing, and he right 
 ly judged that God, if he struck at all. would strike 
 harder if he were cursed in his own house than if the 
 awful sin were committed in a barn. 
 
 The rebel was ready for death. Life to him was but 
 a rag: all of the big world s beauties were hidden from 
 him : chattel slavery, made more hateful to him by con 
 stant reminders that he was not worth his salt, that he 
 never stopped to think how much he owed his parents, 
 added to the weight of a cruel mother s hand wielding 
 a slave driver s right to beat the body of the slave with 
 thongs of leather, and stinging serpents of hickory, had 
 finished their work on this one boy. 
 
 The son of a sanctified mother was ready to deny 
 God and die. Strange? Xo. there was nothing strange 
 about the case. Moses Holcomb was a bound slave to 
 his mother s one hundred religious don ts do you won 
 der that he looked upon both mother and God from a 
 single viewpoint? 
 
 Arrived at church he sat stony-eyed while the min 
 ister and congregation read the lesson, then, when the 
 bustle of arranging classes had subsided, he set himself 
 to the task of defying God the God in whom all the 
 people he saw professed to believe with one mind and 
 one heart. 
 
 "There is no God. There is no God. I want to die. 
 I want to die. It s a He, I want to die/ he repeated 
 over and over. Then waited for the bolt to fall, and 
 was surprised as the old clock ticked off the seconds and 
 
7O MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 he still breathed. A weird thought came to him: God 
 might be too busy listening to Deacon Jeffries to hear 
 just a boy cursing him. He would try again. This time 
 the little rebel was so in earnest in his appeal for re 
 lease from the burden of life that his voice rang out true 
 and clear, filling the church with its challenge to the 
 Creator : 
 
 "It s a lie, there is no God ! I want to die !" 
 
 The low hum of voices in discussion of the lesson 
 was hushed, and on the silence there fell the heart-pierc 
 ing sobs of a child, huddled in the end of a pew while 
 his teacher bent over him with loving words and ca 
 resses. There can be but little comfort gotten from an 
 alien hand for a soul so sore for love, so torn with doubts, 
 so far adrift that it poured out its tide of woe and chal 
 lenged God within the house of prayer to end it all. 
 
 Heads turned this way and that; some whispered, 
 "Who is it?" others answered, "Sister Holcomb s Mose," 
 until the desired information was well spread amongst 
 the worshipers. 
 
 Martha left her place in the Bible class when a neigh 
 bor reaching over the back of a pew had first pinched 
 her, then whispered, "Sister Holcomb, your Mose is a 
 blasphemin an fightin his teacher." Dropping her 
 Bible she hurried back to where he crouched in the pew. 
 "Here you," she began, making a dive for his coat col- 
 lar, "what th old scratch s th matter with you? You 
 .sick?" 
 
 His mother s hands upon him acted as a tonic. His 
 sobs were stilled. All the combativeness of the animal 
 in a corner, bated beyond endurance, flashed up; his 
 face grew rigid; his tear-dimmed eyes glinted. "You 
 let loose of me," he shouted, and as Martha in sheer 
 surprise relaxed her hold he slipped out into the aisle 
 and ran from the church. 
 
 Out in the great cathedral he halted, but not until he 
 had reached the cross roads, where he felt safe from 
 immediate pursuit. Here he gave himself to the thou 
 sand doubts and uncertainties that surrounded him to 
 mock his struggle for liberty, to be true to himself. For 
 an hour he sat in a thicket of wild plum bushes and 
 planned to leave his prison, and seek succor of the great 
 world beyond the ridge of hills stretching away into eter- 
 
A WORSHIPER AND A REBEL 7 1 
 
 nity along the western horizon. Then thinking of God s 
 weakness as demonstrated when he had failed to make 
 good his threat to kill, the boy came to think it just pos 
 sible his mother, too, might be less sure of herself when 
 she faced this challenge to her faith, and turned resolute 
 ly toward home, determined to fight it out with the wom 
 an his mother. 
 
 The Sunday dinner, served at two o clock, had long 
 been cleared away, when Mary ran into the sitting room 
 to announce : "He s come, mother. He s come. I seen 
 him sneak into the barn," and out she danced to find 
 Peter and impart the news. 
 
 "Jed, you go out to th barn an bring that young 
 scamp in here " 
 
 "Mother, I wouldn t whip th boy he hain t seemed 
 like hisself th last few days " 
 
 "Jed Holcomb, I m th jedge of how I m to bring up 
 my children, an I m not a-goin t have you a interferin 
 either." 
 
 "But, mother, you hain t goin t whip him again to 
 day, be you? I tell you Mose hain t well. An besides, 
 he hain t had a bite of victuals to-day." 
 
 "Jed Holcomb, you don t know that boy. I tell you 
 his spirit has got t be broke. An I ll do it if I have t 
 break every bone in his body." 
 
 "Mose hain t a bad boy, mother," the father pleaded ; 
 "he ll do anything fer me why, he hain t never dis 
 obeyed me an I hain t never licked him, less it was 
 cause you made me." 
 
 "That s right," the hysterical priestess of divine 
 mercy shrieked, "that s right. Take his part against his 
 own mother. Keep on an see where he ll land. I said 
 I d punish him within an inch of his life fer a disgracin 
 me in church, an* I m a-goin to. You old softhead, if 
 you hain t got gumption enough t bring up children 
 what d git them fer?" 
 
 With this parting shot ringing in his ears Jed left the 
 house hurriedly and started for the feed lot, while the 
 mother, followed by both Peter and Mary, went to the 
 barn. 
 
 When the voice of his mother reached him, fear of 
 physical tortures was eating into the heart of the boy 
 who had buried his hot, tear-stained face in the sweet- 
 
72 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 scented clover in a far corner of the mow but a few 
 short minutes before. 
 
 "Come out of there, you little devil"; a pause; "I 
 kin see you. Come down here I tell you." Contempt 
 curled the boy s lips as he lifted his head from its pillow 
 of clover. He knew she lied. No human eye could see 
 him in that hiding place. 
 
 "You d better come out of there. If I have t come 
 an git you it ll be th worse fer you." 
 
 Slowly this small, ten-year-old boy, whom the boys 
 of the neighborhood called "Skinny," because of his thin 
 legs and slender body, lifted himself from the hay. He 
 had returned home to fight it out with his mother, and 
 the call had come. If he was to save the proud spirit 
 that disdained a lie, and refused to yield its rights, he 
 must answer the challenge. The time had come to make 
 a last stand. If he whined and begged forgiveness here, 
 in the future there would be multiplied demands made 
 upon him to yield still more, as his brother Peter had 
 yielded until he had corne to prefer a lie to the truth. 
 Once more the angry voice came up to him, and this 
 time it was supplemented by the wicked snap of the whip 
 lash, hungry for a taste of the child s blood. There was 
 no escape. As he realized the import of the challenge 
 the blood ran as liquid fire through his little body. She 
 should not strike him with that whip. She should not! 
 She should not ! Flushed and panting, yet unafraid, he 
 clambered over the billowy hay to the ladder leading 
 down to Hell. 
 
 When his feet touched the floor of the driveway he 
 turned defiantly to face his mother. The mother had 
 worked herself into a paroxysm of rage and stood bit 
 ing her lips and switching a post with the rawhide buggy 
 whip. 
 
 "Hain t you ashamed of yourself, you young scape 
 grace? A hollerin out in Sunday school thet you want 
 ed t die." Moses dodged a vicious cut with the whip. 
 "You don t need t dodge, you little devil. I m goin t 
 half kill you. I ll learn you t disgrace me in my own 
 church. I ll break that spirit of yours if I kill you fer 
 it" 
 
 "Why don t you kill me? I d rather be dead than 
 " what more he would have said was lost in the hiss 
 
A WORSHIPER AND A REBEL 73 
 
 of the rawhide as it wrapped its coils about him. Again 
 the lash fell, the boy s right wrist showing a great red 
 welt where the angry thing had bruised him. It had bit 
 ten another place, a rivulet of blood streamed down over 
 his cheek from a bite of the lash s end in his tender 
 flesh. With the quickness of a cat he jumped aside as 
 the lash fell seeking a third taste of a child s soul. Pick 
 ing up a hammer that lay upon an unopened barrel of 
 salt, he stepped back just out of reach of the whip, and 
 cried out: 
 
 "If you touch me with that whip again I ll kill 
 you." 
 
 Martha, blinded by rage at this open rebellion, start 
 ed forward ; the whip descended the hammer sped true 
 to its mark. 
 
 Peter and Mary ran screaming from the barn as the 
 mother fell. "He s killed mother. He s killed mother," 
 was the cry that reached Jed and the hired man in the 
 feed lot. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 MOSES FINDS A MOTHER. 
 
 Moses Holcomb looked down at his mother without a 
 tremor as she sank to the floor, then raced from the barn 
 at the heels of the other children and, dodging behind 
 cribs and stacks of grain, made his way to a field of 
 growing corn and ran through it until he was hidden in 
 a like field on a neighboring farm. 
 
 Late that night as Tom Webster was preparing to 
 close the house for the night he happened to look out 
 toward the Millville road. "Land sakes, Cora," he called 
 to his wife, "I believe some of the neighbors is sick; 
 they s a boy comin in at the front gate." 
 
 Mrs. Webster hurried to the front door and stood 
 waiting. The boy saw her and hesitated a moment, then 
 advanced slowly until he stood at the foot of the steps. 
 
 "Could you could you give me just a little piece of 
 bread? I haven t had anything to eat to-day, an I d 
 like to sleep in your barn." Cora Webster had fed 
 tramps before, though there were but few in the coun 
 try then, but this appeal from a mere baby so dumfound- 
 ed her that she could not utter a word, and the boy 
 went on : 
 
 "I am tired, lady, and I don t feel like I could go 
 much farther" his voice, his drooping little figure were 
 eloquent witnesses to the bitter struggle he had endured 
 on the road he had traveled that day. Standing there in 
 the moonlight, a wanderer while yet a babe, more in need 
 of a loving mother s care than ever before, he touched 
 the great heart of a childless mother. 
 
 "Sleep in our barn, child?" she questioned, her eyes 
 brimming with tears, "why, what call have you to sleep 
 in a barn when there are beds in plenty?" 
 
 "I I thought you wouldn t want me in your house," 
 he answered, brokenly, "I wasn t going to tell you any- 
 
 74 
 
MOSES FINDS A MOTHER 75 
 
 thing about what T had done but I thought I might 
 sleep in the barn " 
 
 "Child, child," she cried, with outstretched hands, "a 
 boy like you can t have done anything very wrong 
 come in and tell me all about it." 
 
 "No, I can t come in you don t know I don t be 
 lieve there is any God. I asked him to kill me an he 
 didn t, because there ain t none and and I killed my 
 mother, but * 
 
 Cora Webster was down the steps and on her knees 
 with her arms around him before he had finished his con 
 fession. 
 
 "Oh, my boy, my boy, don t talk like that. What, oh, 
 what have they done to you? What have they done to 
 you ?" With her arms about him she picked him up and 
 carried him into the great kitchen, and called her hus 
 band in such peremptory tones that he came on a run. 
 
 "What in the world Cora " he began as he came 
 
 bounding in, then pausing at the sight of the boy 
 clothes torn in his wild flight, face bloody and stained 
 with tears and the dust of travel, hair disheveled, wild- 
 eyed. 
 
 "Tom, he s got a fever and is clear out of his head, 
 and " 
 
 "No, I ain t got no fever," the boy interrupted, "and 
 I won t be taken back there ; I ll die first. What I said 
 was true." He looked at the great red welt across his 
 wrist, the hot blood surging to his face. He could feel 
 shame for his mother, even in the face of the crime he 
 believed himself guilty of. 
 
 "Tom, he says he killed his mother," Cora whispered 
 the awful words. 
 
 "My God, Cora, you must have dreamed it." Turning 
 to the boy again he asked where he lived, the name of 
 his folks, when he left home and finally, satisfied that 
 Moses story was at least in part true, he said to his wife : 
 "I guess I had better take Mollie and ride over to the 
 Holcomb neighborhood; it s only twelve miles, and you 
 make the little chap comfortable. I reckon he s atynit 
 starved, as well as tuckered out." 
 
 When her husband had gone, Mrs. Webster asked 
 Moses, who stood looking out into the night as though 
 he contemplated flight, yet could not bring himself to 
 
76 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 leave until imminent danger threatened, if he didn t want 
 to wash before he had lunch. While he removed the 
 grime and dried blood from face and hands, she set 
 out a lunch on the kitchen table and hovered over while 
 he ate. 
 
 When he had finished she was seated in a big rocker 
 by a window from which a view of the Millville road 
 could be had. "Come over here and tell me about your 
 trouble," she pleaded, as the boy shrank into a far cor 
 ner of the room, sobbing out his thanks for her kind 
 ness. Finally she prevailed upon him to go to her. As 
 he came to her side she put her arm about him and 
 would have drawn him to her lap, but he hung back. To 
 induce him to yield she told him of her one baby, who 
 had he lived, would have been about the same age, and 
 asked if he didn t think she would have found her boy 
 ready to bring all his troubles to his mother s arms, even 
 after he had grown to be a bigger boy than the little 
 wanderer whose confidence she sought. 
 
 Tom Webster, returning home after midnight, found 
 his wife sitting in the big rocker with the little wanderer 
 clasped to her bosom, and he fast locked in sleep. 
 
 "She isn t dead," he whispered, as Cora held up a 
 warning finger, "but from what I gather, I don t think I 
 would cry if she was." Having deposited a bundle on 
 the table he took a chair and sat by the big rocker. The 
 moment he had entered the room and his wife caught 
 sight of the bundle she smiled she was to keep the little 
 fellow who had won her heart by his sturdy defense of 
 truth, even at a greater cost than most grown-ups are 
 willing to pay. 
 
 But a wife would be somewhat remiss in her wifely 
 duty did she not reprove her husband for his radical 
 expressions, so Tom, big, whole-souled Tom, had hardly 
 felt the chair under him before his wife said: "You 
 mustn t say such wicked things, Tom; not even about 
 his mother. And if he is to stay with us you must quit 
 saying darn and words like that," at all of which the 
 big man laughed softly, and kissed the protestant. 
 
 "Holcomb told me Moses was one of the best boys 
 alive, though he never could get along with his mother 
 somehow." 
 
MOSES FINDS A MOTHER 77 
 
 "I don t wonder, from what he told me," she hastily 
 added, "but he didn t say a word against his mother, only 
 that he was not sorry he had killed her. Think of that, 
 Tom. He must have suffered dreadfully." 
 
 "Yes," Tom answered. "I guess the little chap had 
 a rather tough time of it, and Holcomb allowed if we d 
 just as soon keep him for a while he d pay his keep. I 
 told him we had no children and would be glad to have 
 the boy, and pay him something besides." 
 
 Cora nodded her appreciation, and asked : "Did you 
 see that woman?" then bent to kiss the scar left by the 
 lash on the boy s cheek. 
 
 "No, I didn t ; she s some knocked out, I guess. The 
 hammer hit her on the forehead, Holcomb says, and 
 from what others told me I judge the handle seemed to 
 think the hammer hadn t done enough, so it up and swat 
 ted her one in the mouth, loosened a few teeth and cut 
 her lips a bit." 
 
 "Don t, Tom dear," the wife protested, and added, 
 "I m so glad she isn t badly hurt, and that this poor lit 
 tle soul found his way to us." 
 
 "Here, too, little woman. I make no doubt but that 
 the boy has good stuff in him, and if he has," the loyal 
 husband declared, "he gets his chance if he stays with 
 you." 
 
 "And about church, Tom?" She looked up, a frown 
 of perplexity on her face. "He declares there is no God. 
 What are we going to do with him if he don t want to 
 go to church??" 
 
 "Do with him, girl ?" Tom laughed softly. "Do with 
 him? Why we ll just turn him out with the colts on Sun 
 day poor little devil, he s had enough religion ham 
 mered into him to make a man, a full-grown man, want 
 to go to hell rather than meet the people who have re 
 ligion in heaven." 
 
 "That s awful, Tom, simply awful, and you must not 
 talk that way before him. He s going to look up to you, 
 and admire you, and see things as you see them, and I 
 want you to be careful." 
 
 "Of course I ll be careful, you goose. But I can say 
 things when he s sound asleep, can t I ?" The wife smiled 
 at his banter, and he went on: "Seriously, wife, the boy 
 is more nearly religious than some of the folks I met 
 
78 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 over in the Holcomb neighborhood. They all said he 
 cursed God and asked for him to strike. And them neigh 
 bors think the boy is an awful sinner. Now, I don t 
 know how you look at it, but it seems to me if God is 
 doing business in heaven he took a darned sight more 
 stock in the boy s blasphemy, his calling out to be killed, 
 his heart busting with agony, than he did in a lot of 
 ready-made prayers that went up to him yesterday. Yes 
 siree, that boy s defiance, was the grandest prayer that 
 reached the throne of grace yesterday, unless," he quick 
 ly added, "some other poor souls were in as tight a place, 
 and, knowing as little, were firing their curses at the God 
 they had been taught to believe in." 
 
 "Tom, it s positively scandalous for you to talk that 
 way, when you know you are as good a Christian as 
 lives," the wife protested, and Tom chuckled as he 
 stooped to kiss her, and observed: 
 
 " Bout time to put the youngster to bed, and crawl in 
 ourselves, if we expect to git up in time to milk Boss be 
 fore she bellers her head off. Give me the boy, and you 
 run along and open up the bed." 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE INVESTIGATION OF THOMPSON. 
 
 Charles Harris had not been a resident of the town 
 very long when his room-mate, Robert Thompson, in 
 sisted that he go to the First Baptist Church with him, 
 just once anyway, and see the prettiest girl in the town. 
 As Charles objected on the score that he found better 
 employment for his spare time working on plans for his 
 great machine, Bob insisted the stronger, and informed 
 his auditor that he (Bob) had a great mind to try his 
 luck at capturing the alluring maiden. Finally Charles 
 consented to go "just once/ The result was that both 
 young men attended services at the First Baptist Church 
 until Bob captured the coveted prize. The most remark 
 able feature in the transaction was the sudden cooling of 
 Charley s religious ardor and his close application to 
 work. 
 
 "Bob" Thompson had been basking in the smiles of 
 Mary Holcomb for at least two months, while his room 
 mate gave his time to labor, when he came in one Sunday 
 nig*ht and found Charles still at work on the rough draw 
 ings for the machine. 
 
 "Wake up, old man, I want to talk to you," Bob said, 
 slapping him on the back. 
 
 Charley pus hed back from the table. "I was just 
 going to quit, my eyes hurt; fire away," he replied. 
 
 Bob pulled a chair up, and after he had sat for a 
 little time with his eyes on the floor, he looked up and 
 said : "You remember that girl I wanted to show you ?" 
 Charley nodded. "Well I ve been to her home a number 
 of times. The first time her mother just <eyed me ; every 
 move I made, whether I could see her or not, that old 
 woman s eyes were fairly screwed into me and if I so 
 much as looked at Mary she d manage to wiggle around 
 where she fiould get between us." 
 
 79 
 
8O MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "Well, it s interesting all right," Charley smiled 
 broadly, and asked, "what happened the last time?" 
 
 "Happened!" Bob fairly shouted, "It mostly hap 
 pened between times. You see, the old woman got out 
 of Mary all she knew about my boarding place, where I 
 work, and about my aunt who lives here. Last Tuesday 
 morning she started out to investigate " 
 
 "Investigate?" 
 
 "Yes, the old lady went first to the boarding house 
 and when I went to dinner the star boarders, the girls 
 and Mrs. Williams, had their faces fairly splitting. I 
 couldn t think what ailed them, and the next morning 
 when I went to work Wilson called me into the office. 
 What did you send that old snoop here for? that s the 
 way he started in on me. I didn t send anyone here, I 
 told him, and I guess he tumbled ; Lord, how he laughed ! 
 Well, I wish you luck, my boy but/ he added, it costs 
 you your job if she turns up again in business hours and 
 pumps me another quarter of a day, mind that/ I was 
 feeling pretty cheap when I went out of the office, but 
 that was easy compared to going back to Mrs. Wil 
 liams , for you see I had tumbled to the fact that I 
 owed that outfit of grins to Mrs. Holcomb s having been 
 there, too. But that wasn t the worst. Day before yes 
 terday I got a note from my aunt saying she wanted 
 to see me. Of course I went, but, on the dead, if I 
 had known that the old lady had been out there trying 
 to pry the lid off our family history I d have left town 
 first." 
 
 "Why in the world did " 
 
 "Don t break in until I get through. Let me get it 
 all off my mind," Bob implored. Charley nodded as 
 sent, but the grin on his face was a challenge in itself. 
 
 "Grin, blame you, I know it s fun for you. Well, as 
 soon as I got out to aunt s she looked me all over in 
 the queerest way, then asked me if I knew anyone 
 named Holcomb. Guess I must have blushed or some 
 thing, for she said, Then that woman wasn t altogether 
 crazy. Has she been here? I managed to ask, and I 
 felt like crawling through the floor. Then aunt handed 
 it to me straight. Yes/ she had her nose up a mile 
 as she said it, she s been here and Bobby, I want to 
 know what sort of outlandish people you are associat- 
 
THE INVESTIGATION OF THOMPSON 8 1 
 
 ing with? Mind, if you should ever think of marrying 
 into that family I would disown you/ When she shot 
 that at me I got hot under the collar and did a little 
 talking on my own account. I m afraid, now, that I 
 talked Mary pretty strong." 
 
 "You don t need to worry over that, Bob ; you couldn t 
 talk her half as strong as she deserves," Charley inter 
 rupted, and this time he blushed and looked down as 
 he caught the quick and comprehending look Bob gave 
 him. 
 
 But the latter only grunted as he went on with his 
 story: "After my little spiel, aunt took another tack, 
 and told me how Mrs. Holcomb had introduced herself 
 and assured aunt that I was a-payin particular atten 
 tions to her darter, as you might say/ Then she went 
 after our family history and stuck to it until aunt was 
 at her wits ends but that isn t the worst." 
 
 "Isn t the worst/ Charley repeated after him. 
 
 "No! You see, when I got away from aunt s and 
 had another set-to at the boarding-house I was in just 
 the proper shape for a fight. I had made up my mind 
 that Mrs. Holcomb had shot her wad, and I proposed 
 to take a turn with the gun myself. You know I went 
 to choir practice last night?" Charley nodded. "Well, 
 I met Mary, as a matter of course and I don t believe 
 to this minute that she knows anything about the old 
 woman s butting in. Anyway, I made a date for to 
 night, and took her home from practice. When we got 
 home from church Mary took my hat and we had just 
 got seated in their stuffy little box of a parlor when 
 the old lady came in, leading Jed by the arm. When 
 she d got him into the room she said: Jed, you take 
 Mary and go out to the kitchen I m goin t have a 
 word with Mr. Thompson/ You could have put me in 
 a mighty small package, Bob admitted, mopping his face 
 as he proceeded. "Mary looked scared, and Jed tried 
 to say something, but it got mixed up with a cough or 
 two, and neither of them came out right, and she just 
 bundled them out. By that time I was ready to run; 
 somehow my desire for fight had evaporated, and I 
 wanted to pray, or anything to get rid of the interview 
 I could see coming my way. She pulled a chair over in 
 front of me, and plumping herself down in it grabbed 
 
82 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 both arms, as though, if I made a wrong move, she fully 
 intended to jerk them off and bat me over the head 
 with them. I want to ask you, young feller, what your 
 intentions is? was the first thing she fired at me, and 
 her nose wasn t two feet from mine I guess that was 
 the highest I looked during the whole interview and I 
 guess I must have given her a foolish answer, for " 
 
 "I d like to have a woman try that on me," Charley 
 interposed. 
 
 "Would, eh? Well, it s up to you if you want to 
 try it." 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "Wait until I get through." 
 
 "You don t mean to tell me you let the old lady 
 run you off?" 
 
 "Can t you wait? Where was I? Oh, yes she d 
 asked me about my intentions, and then opened up 
 again : Young feller, I ve bin waitin quite a spell a-try- 
 in t decide jist what my Christian duty t my darter 
 was ; an I was led t ask th parson he told me to oncet 
 investigate that young man s anti-cedents. Jed lowed 
 that word meant a considerable, an th doctor s wife, 
 she said it meant your family history an actions an 
 sich ; an she seemed real interested. " 
 
 Bob eyed the grinning mechanic on the other side of 
 the table. "Darn you, I d like to throw something at 
 you," he confessed. 
 
 "Wait a week," Charley advised; then promised not 
 to grin if Bob would finish the story. 
 
 "Well, here goes. Now, young feller, she says to 
 me, you might jist as well understand first as last that 
 I hain t bin readin them city newspapers all these here 
 months fer nothin ; an I don t propose that none of 
 them wolves in sheeps skins as is a-triflin with all th 
 young girls they chance upon shall rend an tear my one 
 ewe lamb. 
 
 "Right there I tried to get in a word, but she 
 wouldn t have it. You jist keep still till I m through, 
 an then if you ve got th brass t brazen it out, why, 
 jist crack your heels together but I warn you Jed s 
 in th back room, so you be careful what you say to me. 
 Now, wasn t that a pretty stiff proposition to go up 
 against?" Bob asked. 
 
THE INVESTIGATION OF THOMPSON 83 
 
 Charley ignored the question and asked for the rest 
 of the story. 
 
 "I told her I was perfectly harmless, and she lit into 
 me again: 1 follered the advice of th doctor s wife 
 an my own conscience, an I can say they hain t any 
 thing I hev hearn about you as makes me hanker t have 
 you fer a son-in-law. You smoke an you hev flirted 
 with all sorts of girls an your father s family was all 
 Piscopalians, an your mother s folks didn t have no re 
 ligion at all, an as far as your own goes, young feller, 
 your own boss told me you worked on Sundays, an 
 he admitted t me that you swore like a pirate ; an your 
 aunt says you will be th death of her with your wild 
 ways, an besides, she told me you had inherited fits 
 from some of the family, an was like to come down 
 with them at any time; an your boarding missus, arter 
 I d told her of my tryin to protect my Mary, she up 
 an told me you wasn t no more of a Christian then Bob 
 Ingersall, an she allowed you never went t th Baptis 
 church till Mary come t town, an she told me t be 
 ware. She did halt there to take a fresh breath," Bob 
 observed with a sigh, then continued: "In the next 
 round she came in strong on her religion, and knocked 
 me plumb out of the box. I want you t know that I m 
 a Baptis as believes ev ry word in th Bible, an I 
 had all th fightin fer souls I want when I undertook 
 t tear Jed Holcomb as a brand from th burnin . Young 
 feller, Jed was as stiff-necked an uncircumcised a sin 
 ner as ever I seen fore I set eyes on you, when I took 
 him in hand an he s saved to-day. Now, what I want 
 to know is, are you goin t pester Mary any more ? " 
 Bob paused. 
 
 "And you sneaked," Charley sneered as he reached 
 up and felt along the shelf above his head for a pipe. 
 
 "Sneaked ? Why, no, not immediately I simply told 
 her she was wasting her breath that I was innocent of 
 practically everything my friends had charged me with, 
 but as she so strongly objected, I would not see Mary 
 again why, I d as soon be in the infernal regions, with 
 my back broke, as to marry a woman from that school." 
 
 "Bobby, you didn t love the girl no, it wasn t love," 
 then after a pause: "I believe you said it was up to 
 me?" 
 
84 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "Yes, I said it; and I ll bet you the price of a wed 
 ding suit that you don t last as long as a politician in 
 heaven." 
 
 "That s a go," Charley answered with gusto; "put 
 it at fifty dollars, and I ll enter the lists." 
 
 "All right, it s up to you, and I will give you just 
 three months from to-night to make good," Bob de 
 clared. 
 
 "That s about October ist," Charley commented, as 
 he shook hands across the table with his room-mate and 
 one-time rival, though the rival was all unconscious of 
 having played the part. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 MOTHER HOLCOMB IS CIRCUMVENTED. 
 
 October 1st came as must come all dates between 
 this and the final date of time, and found Charley Har 
 ris bending over the plans for the coming automatic 
 moulder, which were spread out on the table of his and 
 Bob s room, when the latter entered, and without a word 
 laid a check for fifty dollars on the table in front of the 
 mechanic. As Charley looked up after examining the 
 bit of paper thrust between him and his work, Bob 
 said: 
 
 "Not a word, old man you won it fairly, and if 
 you didn t, I would have held you to your end of the 
 wager." 
 
 "But I don t want the money, Bob; it would have 
 served me right if I had lost out and do you know I 
 sometimes feel a bit mean when I think of the way I 
 took to win it and the girl. Still, I love Mary, and 
 she was worth winning, even as I won her." 
 
 "That s the point, Charley. Tell me how you cir 
 cumvented the old lady; but first put that check in your 
 pocket." 
 
 "Bobby," said Charley, and he looked his grimmest, 
 "for what I ve done may the Lord forgive me. I ve lied ; 
 I ve cozened my mother-in-law-to-be; I ve swallowed 
 the Baptist church whole ; I ve mothered her ; I ve accept 
 ed her Bible and whole philosophy of life at her 
 figure, and am to pay her out in a life service to a God 
 who wouldn t be allowed to do more than one year s 
 business in a barnyard, for any careful breeder of im 
 proved stock. I ve raked Father Jed over the coals for 
 his religious shortcomings, and the one spot of saving 
 grace for me, so far as the old folks are concerned, lies 
 in the fact, or rather conviction I hold, that the old man 
 is on." 
 
 "On to what?" Bob demanded. 
 85 
 
86 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "On to me with both feet. This is how I got next: 
 About a month ago he ventured an opinion on a matter 
 of fai-th; mother-in-law-to-be snapped him up in a min 
 ute, and I piled in and helped her pulverize him. When 
 I had finished, the old lady was chuckling, and I turned 
 to Jed to see how he was taking his medicine skin me, 
 if he didn t wink at me and grin. Of course I wasn t 
 absolutely certain, but after he had shaken hands twice 
 With me as I came away, I began to do some tall think 
 ing about the state of Father Holcomb s immortal soul." 
 
 Bob was anxious to have the meat of the story, but 
 Charley insisted at this point upon putting his pipe in 
 commission before he proceeded. "Last week I had an 
 other chance to help the old lady out, and it seemed to 
 me Jed had perked up quite a bit in combativeness, just 
 to give me a chance. While the battle raged, I got two 
 of the broadest winks ever, and when I started away 
 the old man followed me to the gate and was so all-fired 
 good to me that I up and asked him for Mary. Bob, 
 he led me right back to the house; caught the old lady 
 with her shoes off and her hair down and had the thing 
 fixed right there then Mary and I got our first hour 
 alone in almost three months well, I guess I earned it 
 all right." 
 
 "I don t see the connection between Mr. Holcomb s 
 friendliness and your antagonism," Bob insisted, with 
 a puzzled look. 
 
 "Took me two weeks to figure it out," Charley laugh 
 ed. "You see, it is this way you know Mrs. Hoi- 
 comb," Bob screwed his face into a grimace. "You re 
 member she gave herself credit with having snatched Jed 
 as a brand from the burning?" 
 
 "Well, he s just a bit nearer that lake of brim 
 stone than he was before she saved him unless the 
 Lord will allow him to enter a plea of self-defense, and 
 nolle pros, the indictment against him. He s a hypo 
 crite and he knows I m another." 
 
 "And misery toves company, eh, Charley??" was the 
 
 sum of Bob s comment. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Within a month after the wedding, Charles Harris 
 might have been found hard at work in Father Hoi- 
 comb s barn where he had fitted up a shop and was get- 
 
MOTHER HOLCOMB IS CIRCUMVENTED 87 
 
 ting his machine under way. Jed was his constant com 
 panion, and by much urging had induced Charley to use 
 some of his funds for material and tools with which to 
 push the work in hand. 
 
 After all the years of dreaming, planning and model 
 ing, the inventor had at last come to the promised land. 
 No longer were such trivial things as a mother-in-law s 
 objection to the neglect of Wednesday evening prayer 
 meetings, or a wife s plea that she hardly ever saw him, 
 to interfere with the prosecution of his work. Feverishly 
 he labored begrudging even the time he took at table 
 as so much time lost. 
 
 When the young folks were married and Charley had 
 moved his possessions to the Holcomb home, the father 
 seemed to take new hold upon life, and a transforma 
 tion was wrought that boded but ill for Martha s rule. 
 Now it was Jed who defended Charley when either of 
 the women complained of his underworship and over 
 work. In turn Charley grew perceptibly weaker in de 
 fense of the great truths promulgated by his mother-in- 
 law. But she knew Jed so well, or at least thought she 
 did, that she straightway laid all the younger man s sins 
 at her husband s door. He denied strenuously that he 
 was in any way culpable, and as firmly insisted that Char 
 ley s being so ambitious to make a fortune out of his 
 machine was all that ailed him. 
 
 Within six months after his marriage, thanks to the 
 assistance of the head of the house, the automatic moul 
 der was built and ready for a test. 
 
 As an especial mark of honor, Bob Thompson was 
 invited to witness the testing of the first machine for 
 casting iron automatically. 
 
 Mary and her mother visited the shop early in the 
 morning and found the mechanic filling the small furnace 
 for a test heat. When they entered he dropped the 
 "pig" he was about to put into the furnace and put his 
 arm about his wife s waist. "Mary, it s one of the hap 
 piest days of my life," he told her. "When I went into 
 the foundry as a boy I thought of that machine you see 
 standing there, and not a day has come since that I 
 have not divided my thoughts between the machine and 
 the other things I had to think of to live." 
 
90 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 auditors "It works perfectly, so I guess I will put on 
 the belt and run it empty for a few minutes before giv 
 ing it the iron then you will see it do the work of fifty 
 men as long as the iron lasts." 
 
 "If it does that why not put it to work in the foun 
 dry? you say it is not to go out of this shop." Bob 
 could not catch the mechanic s viewpoint. 
 
 "But this isn t the machine I now have in mind," 
 the inventor protested. As the belt crawled slowly into 
 place on the tight pulley and the machine began its 
 labor, he went on, "This machine simply demonstrates 
 the reasonableness of my hope to make it more nearly 
 automatic, more rapid, more compact, and consequently 
 less expensive to -operate now watch. Remember, I 
 have never tested the assembled machine, yet I would 
 stake my life on its doing the work, for each part has 
 been tested separately. That s the hand process of man 
 ufacture, here all the hand tools are coordinated and 
 the machine takes the place of skilled workers .and oper 
 ates all these tools at once, where they could only be 
 used one at a time. Now watch closely as I lift this 
 gate, iron as thin as water, and as hot as a place we have 
 heard mentioned, father " he looked up at Jed, and 
 both smiled "pours out into this measuring device and 
 tips into the flask. Watch the next flask come up for 
 its share of the molten iron. Now, come over on this 
 side and watch the filled flask ; see ? As it comes to this 
 side it begins to open there you have the finished prod 
 uct. Don t touch it," he called out as Bob scooped and 
 was about to take hold of the casting just ejected from 
 the machine. "It s all but red hot," Charley warned 
 him, and then said : "Keep your eye on that empty flask ; 
 see, it next stops over a blast of cold air, while the 
 flask on the other side is taking its icharge. The cold 
 blast reduces the heat of the mould so it will the more 
 readily absorb the heat from the next charge of metal." 
 
 While the machine labored on, kicking out casting 
 after casting, the three men stood about it in silence. 
 Charley finally took up a bucket of water and cooled off 
 the first castings from the "Harris Automatic Moulding 
 Machine." Taking up the first one that came from the 
 machine he said : "This is the only thing I shall save 
 
MOTHER HOLCOMB IS CIRCUMVENTED QI 
 
 from all the visible results of my years of labor the 
 first perfect casting from an automatic machine." 
 
 He stood erect, the pride of power, of mastery, 
 illumining his face. "To-day," he looked from one to 
 the other, "I shall break this machine up, and to-morrow, 
 if you oare to look at it, it will be found in the alley 
 yonder, on exhibition in the form of junk a mass of 
 twisted and broken metal nothing more." 
 
 "Charley," Jed protested, "it s cost you more than a 
 thousand dollars, sides your time, and as old junk it 
 won t bring ten dollars what sort of talk " 
 
 "That s all true, father, but I m talking sense just 
 the same. This machine will be more valuable to me as 
 junk than, it is in its present form. To build it on lines 
 I now have laid out it must be rebuilt from the ground 
 up. So it has to go, and so have I." 
 
 "Not leave us, Charley !" the old man protested. 
 
 "Yes," the mechanic with a vision before him, re 
 plied kindly,. "I ve got to have better facilities for work 
 and better materials to work with. In fact, I ve got to 
 go to a big city where all my wants may be supplied 
 at first hand and, anyway, my machine belongs to the 
 big cities; it would be worse than useless in Whislow s 
 foundry." 
 
 Bob s eyes were filled with wonder of the thing 
 here was a mechanic who had given years of labor to 
 the accomplishment of a single task, and in his hour of 
 triumph over all his fears he quietly condemned the 
 visible result of those hungry years to destruction, and 
 did it with a smile it was all outside Bob Thompson s 
 comprehension. He gave one more look at the machine 
 as it stood silent after its work was finished, then at the 
 inventor, and as he turned at the door, said : "Charley, 
 I don t need to wish you luck. Any one who can build 
 such a machine as that can have nothing but luck." 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A MECHANIC S VISION. 
 
 When Jed Holcomb left the shop the day Charley 
 tested his machine he went sadly to the house; no clear 
 idea of what Charley s determination to move to a 
 larger city meant to him had been reasoned out as yet. 
 He only knew that the young folks were dearer to him 
 than life. As for argument for or against such a move, 
 he had none. He had not been long in the house when 
 Martha noticed his gloomy look. 
 
 "Land sakes, Jed!" she exclaimed, "one ud think 
 Charley s contraption had blowed up an* scattered things 
 t th four winds, t look at you. What s the matter? 
 Your old liver trouble comin back? You jist wait right 
 where you be. I ll git th burdock Mary wanted t 
 leave it on th farm fer that Jake Simpson s shif less 
 wife t throw away. Why, Jed, what s the matter with 
 you? I swan if there hain t tears in your eyes." 
 
 Jed drew a sleeve furtively across his eyes and sat 
 down with a sigh. 
 
 "What n th world" Martha began. 
 
 Tain t nothin th matter of my liver, mother," he 
 answered lamely. "I just found out the children is goin 
 to pack up an leave us " 
 
 "W-h-a-t?" 
 
 "Yes, mother, Charley is a-plannin to go to some 
 big city, Chicago most likely, to make a grander ma 
 chine tho what he can want with a better machine 
 than the one he s smashin to bits out in th shop is more 
 than I know." 
 
 "You don t tell me that boy is a-bustin that ma 
 chine to flinders? Jed, hez he gone crazy? That ma 
 chine hez cost him most five hundred dollars. I m goin 
 t see what he s a-doin ." 
 
 "Wait, mother, don t you go," Jed pleaded. 
 92 
 
93 
 
 "Don t go your grandmother/ was all he heard as 
 Martha started for the shop. 
 
 The mechanic was taking measurements with calliper 
 and rule, comparing his findings with the dimensions 
 given on the drawings then under way for the new ma 
 chine, when Martha entered. There was a catch in her 
 hard old voice as she began: "Charley, Jed says as 
 you are thinkin of leavin us?" 
 
 Charley looked keenly into her face, and his answer 
 was as gentle as though it had been offered at her knee. 
 "Mother, I ve got to go go somewhere where my ma 
 chine can have a chance. Besides, I feel that I must 
 get acquainted with men of wider experience in my line 
 before I build my new machine." 
 
 "Then Jed was right. You intend to do away with 
 that one?" 
 
 "Yes, mother, my work here is finished, and so is 
 the work of this machine. You see it was only built for 
 a day, if it was a success, and it was. Now its work is 
 finished, and out of its clumsy bulk I am going to build 
 the machine I have had in mind for years and years. 
 It s like this, mother: while I had plenty of faith to 
 keep me digging away at it, and a willingness to put 
 all the money I could spare into it, still, there was al 
 ways a doubt ready to take hold of me as to the thing 
 really being a success. To-day it has proven even more 
 of a success than I had ever hoped the first machine 
 would. To-morrow I can go ahead on the perfected 
 machine without a single fear and that means better 
 work. No more experiments. Just building for perfec 
 tion. Don t you see?" he asked, noticing her troubled 
 look. 
 
 "No, I don t see. An what s more, there s a lot of 
 things I won t see Mary s goin away, for one thing," 
 and she left him. 
 
 That evening, after a supper eaten in silence, the 
 family gathered in the sitting room. Charley s machine 
 lay a wreck in the shop Martha had satisfied herself on 
 that point. 
 
 "Well," Jed observed after a prolonged silence, punc 
 tuated by the click of Martha s knitting needles, "seems 
 as tho there might be a storm to-night, th way things 
 is brewin ." 
 
94 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "You alludin t me, Jed Holcomb?" the wife de 
 manded, dropping her knitting into her lap. "You al 
 ludin t me ?" 
 
 "I was a-alludin t* th clouds, mother," he pro 
 tested. 
 
 "Well, you d better allude t somethin closer home 
 with your crazy son-in-law a-hammerin a thousand dol 
 lars worth of property into flinders, an a-threatenin t 
 take Mary, my Mary, into one of them big towns where 
 there hain t nothin but dirt, an sin, an* robbin an* mur 
 der. Jed Holcomb," she shook an accusing finger at 
 her husband, "I swan f man ef I don t half believe 
 you ve bin a-conspirin with him." 
 
 "Mother, I hain t no such thing," Jed protested 
 stoutly. 
 
 "You shet right up, Jed Holcomb! They hain t no 
 livin man can come it over me! Hain t you two bin 
 as close as two born twins ever since Charley come 
 a-courtin my Mary? An you ve bin thicker n molasses 
 in January ever since they was married." 
 
 "Now, mother, don t you git on no tantrum," Jed 
 implored, while the young folks sat dumb before the ris 
 ing tide of Martha s wrath. 
 
 "Tantrum, tantrum, is it? Well, I d jist like t know 
 who wouldn t tantrum? Didn t he promise me he 
 wouldn t take Mary away; an didn t he promise faith 
 ful t jine th church? An t hear him talk you wouldn t 
 a-thought butter d melt in his mouth th hypocrite! 
 Don t you look at me that way, Jed Holcomb." 
 
 "I hain t a-goin to, mother," he whimpered. 
 
 "An you better not! Hain t you bin a-aidin an 
 abettin him in a-breakin th Sabbath? You don t dast 
 t say you hain t. An now arter spendin all his money 
 an a-livin here board free for months, an Mary in th 
 condition she is, he up an busts that devil s contraption 
 of his to bits an says he s goin t take my Mary away 
 from me; an* you jist set there a-waggin your head 
 like a old fool. Jed Holcomb, hain t you got no man 
 in you? Hain t you goin t say nothin ag in this at 
 all?" Martha s eyes were as hard as diamonds, and 
 tho her chin trembled, her iron soul held her lips in a 
 firm line. 
 
 "Mother, I can t seem t see no reason in standin* 
 
A MECHANIC S VISION 95 
 
 in Charley s way an as fer Mary why, when I mar 
 ried you, I took you from your mother, didn t I?" 
 
 "When you married me ! You didn t marry me, Jed 
 Holcomb. I done th marryin an I could stand alone, 
 an I ve done it all my life an my Mary isn t me. 
 She don t know no more how t stand up fer herself than 
 a newborn baby an if she did, she hain t a-goin to, 
 so there !" 
 
 "But, mother," Mary interposed, "if Charley s work 
 must be finished somewhere else " 
 
 "Mary Holcomb Harris, you shet right up I hain t 
 a-goin t quarrel with you, you in the condition you re 
 in but I will say, that you bein as soft as putty, that 
 man," pointing a shaking ringer at Charley, "could wrap 
 you around his finger; an after he s lied to me like he 
 has, it s my bounden duty t protect your everlastin 
 soul." 
 
 "Mother, mother, mother, what s the use of all this," 
 Charley exclaimed, "what s the use of all this? I am 
 willing to admit that I practiced a little harmless decep 
 tion in order to win your consent to my marrying 
 Mary." 
 
 "Well, if I ever," Martha began, but he went on: 
 
 "Listen, mother, I loved Mary from the very first 
 time I saw her, and was eating my heart out all the 
 time Bob was going with her. When he came to me 
 and told me how you had investigated him, I deter 
 mined to win Mary if I could, and in any way I could. 
 I loved her and I wanted her." Leaning over his wife s 
 chair, he put his arms about her and, lifting her face to 
 his, kissed her. Looking up with a smile into the angry 
 face of the mother, he said : "I love her better to-night 
 than ever before, and you must understand me. I do 
 not want to take her away from you until after our baby 
 comes and I do want you to forgive me I I believe 
 I appreciate how you feel 
 
 "You" Martha s voice was husky with suppressed 
 anger "you know how I feel, Charles Harris. Then 
 answer me this : didn t you come into my house like a 
 thief in th night, a professin religion an* a dissem- 
 blin ?" 
 
 "Yes, mother ; but I loved Mary." 
 
96 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "Don t you call me mother no more," Martha cried 
 as she started from her chair and shook an accusing 
 finger in his face. 
 
 "There, there, mother, do be 
 
 "Jed Holcomb," she turned upon him squarely, "you 
 listen t me. This man admits he s lied, an stole, an 
 has no religion, an* " 
 
 "But I have a religion," Charley protested, "a re 
 ligion that sees God in the machine I just destroyed; 
 will see him bigger and better in the one I am to build. 
 Why, I see him in Mary ; in the trees and flowers ; in the 
 whole world, just as my mother does, and besides " 
 
 "An idolator t boot!" the mother exclaimed. 
 "Charles Harris, didn t you go down on your knees in 
 my church an pertend t pray t my God? Didn t you 
 ask him, an me a-list nin , t give you a new heart? An 
 swer me that." 
 
 "Mother, I protest that it seemed but a form to me. 
 I was not conscious of sinning against God, tho I was 
 conscious of sinning against you. Let me explain : God 
 to me is infinite, and beyond the power of your church, 
 or any other church, for that matter, to fix the man 
 ner of my approach to him, or set the penalty for my 
 shortcomings. My sins of omission and commission 
 against your church may be counted as sins against 
 you who hold to its narrow way. I admit that I de 
 ceived you but I could never have deceived my God, 
 He knew my heart; he knew my struggle; so it comes 
 to this, that I must answer to you for my sinning; I 
 am answering now; I ask you to forgive me. For 
 Mary s sake and the baby, mother, forgive " 
 
 His plea was not to be finished. The iron-souled 
 warrior of the cross lifted her hands on high and 
 prayed: "Lord of mercy an of wrath, bear me up in 
 what I m about t do, an t suffer fer thy name s sake. 
 Lord, thou hast put many a burden on me in times past. 
 Whilst I hev halted an bin a-weary in th battle, still, 
 O Lord, thou hast strengthened me. Thou hast prom 
 ised, O Lord, that th vials of divine wrath shall be 
 emptied on th heads of idolaters an heathens, an scof 
 fers t th last day. An Lord, I beseech thee that thou 
 use me, thy unworthy servant, as a chast nin rod even 
 
A MECHANIC S VISION 97 
 
 aginst my own flesh an blood. An thine be th glory, 
 amen." 
 
 Three auditors had sat in huddled silence, awed by 
 the sincerity, the earnestness, the fervor of Martha s 
 prayer. When she had finished, she stood silent for a 
 moment, then said to Charley: "I have jist one word 
 t say t you an" I m done. Mary stays here till th 
 baby s born, then she can make up her mind whether 
 she ll go to th home of a idolater or stay under th 
 shadow of th cross of Christ. As fer you I won t 
 never speak to you agin " 
 
 "Oh, mother, don t say that !" Mary cried out, clasp 
 ing her mother in her arms, to be pushed away as Mar 
 tha continued, in her religious ecstasy unmindful of the 
 distress of her daughter. "You can stay here until 
 Mary is through her trouble, or you can go, but from to 
 night I will never speak t* you agin. Jesus Christ an* 
 my darter is all there is in this world fer me." She 
 turned to leave the room, when Jed appealed to her : 
 
 "Mother, you are all worked up over nothin won t 
 you say a word of good night t me, t us ?" But with 
 out a look or word she passed out of the room. 
 
 "I shall hate her ! Hate her ! if she treats you that 
 way," Mary declared when they had gone to their room. 
 
 "No, no, sweetheart, you must not, you must not. 
 She may not forgive me, but we must remember some 
 one is coming to live with us in a little while, and we 
 must not hate. We must love our mother; we can do 
 this more when we understand that she suffers as deep 
 ly as either of us. She believes I have grossly wronged 
 both her and God, and having that belief, she suffers 
 even more than I do, because I can leave God out of 
 the question between your mother and myself. Yes, 
 girlie, we must love your mother. Our baby shall not 
 come to us bearing the weight of our transgressions. 
 Whatever happens, keep sweet, little wife, keep faith. 
 Your mother is not the Creator. Her anger, even her 
 curses, could not harm us more than we permit by giv 
 ing way to resentment. From to-night she will have 
 nothing to do with me," he admitted soberly, "but re 
 member, you are not to worry; I will be the same to 
 her as I have been. To-morrow morning bright and 
 early I will go to the city. If I can find what I want in 
 
98 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 St. Louis we will go there, if not we will go to Chi 
 cago. I did not intend to go for a couple of weeks, but 
 maybe it will be best to go away and give mother a 
 chance to think the whole matter over before she sees 
 too much of me. There, there, girlie, don t cry ; the 
 world is not so big that we can get lost in it any more, 
 and if we keep faith and love with us always it will 
 seem but a small place, wherever we live. * 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 AN UNFINISHED CHAPTER. 
 
 "Land sakes, Mrs. Norton, an Elder Smiley, too. 
 Well, I declare, I don t see how you can stand t be 
 inside sich a mornin as this, when it s jist fine out 
 here on th portico." The speaker was none other than 
 our friend Martha Holcomb, who had but that moment 
 arrived on the porch that adorned her nearest neigh 
 bor s home on its West street side. In the pleasant 
 south room, the minister had but rid himself of his hat 
 and taken a chair at the window when Martha chal 
 lenged attention from the porch. That the two in the 
 south room avoided the porch for the very reason that 
 they wished, if possible, to escape a meeting with their 
 co-worker in the vineyard, seems assured. 
 
 "When Martha ceased speaking, the minister looked 
 helplessly at his hostess, who shook her head ever so 
 little and called out to her neighbor: "Won t you come 
 in?" 
 
 "I certainly shall, less you two conies out. Land 
 sakes," she exclaimed, seating herself in one of the wick 
 er porch chairs, "I can t fer th life of me see what 
 possesses some folks t stick t th insides of their houses 
 till they gets, t lookin fer all th world like bleached 
 celery." 
 
 The minister sighed and went out on the porch, where 
 he gave Sister Holcomb formal greeting and sat him 
 down. 
 
 The Rev. Theodore Smiley was a man of some parts 
 and considerable experience. He had entered the min 
 istry some six years earlier than we make his acquaint 
 ance; entered it with a profound faith in the saving 
 grace of conversion. To him, during his first year s min 
 istry, the sinner bowed at the altar asking pardon for 
 past sins, protesting present repentance and promising 
 
 99 
 
IOO MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 future obedience to the mandates of Christ, represented 
 the sum total of all the world might ask of the sin 
 ner. This was to him the supreme test of life a thing 
 sacred, and offered but once in a lifetime had he not 
 felt "the power" when he went down on his knees and 
 asked that he be allowed to consecrate his life to the 
 service of the Master? 
 
 Years spent in ministering to those who had made 
 a like confession, brought to this man a conviction that 
 a wide difference of opinion existed in the minds of the 
 individual members of his church as to what constituted 
 repentance, conversion and sanctification. The joy of 
 service, which in the first months of his ministry had 
 lighted up his face from inward devotional fires, slowly 
 died down when the weight of a neighborhood s past mis 
 deeds, old grudges and fault-findings were dumped at 
 his door and he was asked to assume responsibility for 
 the future conduct of those suspected of past sinnings. 
 
 During that first year he firmly believed in sanctifica 
 tion, and preached it. But the family quarrels into which 
 he was dragged by the several factions in the church 
 each insisting the other was without grace had been 
 enough to convince him, finally, that, regardless of their 
 prayer-meeting claims, a majority of his flock had fallen 
 far short of the full privilege of religion. 
 
 His sermons the second year dealt more with the in 
 dividual requirements for a sound religious experience, 
 and less with sanctification. It happened that his word- 
 pictures, delineating Christian and non-Christian char 
 acteristics in the individual, were said, by a number of 
 his flock, and divers of the unregenerated world, to 
 "hit at" some of the pillars of his church. Those who 
 were said to be "hit at" gave weight to the gossip by 
 evincing unrest while under the voice of the pastor. It 
 is needless to say the "pillars" openly questioned the min 
 ister s right to subject the saved to criticism, while the 
 unsaved world numbered its millions of souls on the way 
 to hell. The pastor was so wrapped up in his work 
 that the seeds of internal strife had gone far toward 
 germination before he discovered where they had taken 
 root. Sadly enough he gave up the individual and 
 preached all the way from "The First Sin" to "The 
 Saving Blood of Jesus," and found to his surprise, a 
 
AN UNFINISHED CHAPTER IOI 
 
 vastly different attitude in the "pillars," both toward him 
 personally, and toward the contribution baskets. 
 
 With the coming of his third year he began to deal 
 with social problems. His sermons bristled with facts 
 and figures in support of the text. Remembering the 
 failure of sanctifioation and his later appeal to the in 
 dividual, he poured into his new sermons all the accu 
 mulated knowledge of his past experience, and encoun 
 tered a stronger opposing force than ever before. When 
 accused of taking politics into his pulpit, of dragging 
 business into his sermons, he became indignant and pro 
 tested that if politics and business did not square with 
 religion it was his plain duty to teach his flock to avoid 
 that sort of politics and business. The attitude of the 
 minister resulted in the appointment of a committee 
 from the board of trustees to wait upon the pastor in 
 the interests of the church government, and insist upon 
 "the simple gospel of Christ" (?) being preached from 
 their pulpit. 
 
 The pastor requested this committee to put its objec 
 tions in writing, also outline the course it wished him 
 to follow in the future. With evident reluctance the 
 committee agreed to meet the minister s wishes. A bank 
 er, a business man, and a retired farmer composed the 
 committee. The minister read the indictment carefully, 
 studied the recommendations of the committee to the 
 last detail, then announced that he would take their 
 offering as his text for the next Sunday evening s ser 
 mon, after which the membership should decide as to 
 the future. 
 
 That sermon will never be forgotten by some who 
 heard it. Into it the young minister poured a wealth of 
 pathetic pleading for a free pulpit. He defended his 
 faith in sanctification as the only true base upon which 
 to build the superstructure of religious life. He de 
 manded that he be permitted to denounce individual short 
 comings, social sins, political -and business dishonor 
 without let or hindrance. He demanded this as his 
 right, and in the name of his Master protested against 
 the limitations sought to be put upon the free gospel, as 
 he taught it. 
 
 As might have been expected the church divided. 
 The thing that most surprised the minister was the 
 
102 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 numerical insignificance of the party which stood by him 
 in this crisis in his ministry. When he had asked God s 
 blessing to rest upon his congregation after the ser 
 mon, and stood waiting beside the pulpit, confident that 
 even the committee had not been able to withstand the 
 sublime truth, the eloquence, the logic of his appeal for 
 a free pulpit, his heart saddened as he noticed the draw 
 ing together of "the pillars of the church," first in twos 
 and threes, then in a larger body, the center of which 
 was the committee. As his eyes traveled over the heads 
 of a congregation which seemed to have forgotten him 
 in its hurry to discuss the sermon, he saw coming down 
 a side aisle a dozen of the poorer members of the church. 
 They had hesitated until the "pillars * had been given 
 time to have a first word and handclasp with the min 
 ister, but seeing the more prosperous members intent 
 upon affairs other than handclasps, the bolder of the 
 rear pew holders proposed that those about him who 
 believed as the minister did should show their confi 
 dence in him by going forward and publicly expressing 
 their approval. Following them came a straggling dele 
 gation of the rag-tag element laborers, workers wives, v 
 and a few strangers who had attended because they had 
 understood there was to be trouble. 
 
 The minister watched them as they approached, and 
 his heart filled were the many doubts that had assail 
 ed him as his church closed one after another the great 
 gates of truth against him to be affirmed? Had the 
 world come again so close to the days of Calvary that 
 only the poor would hear Christ s message gladly? 
 
 There could be no mistaking the warmth of approval 
 voiced by those who came to congratulate him upon his 
 splendid defense of the gospel of righteousness. But 
 he saw a sneer on the lips of the banker as he, too, noted 
 the character of those who grasped the minister s hand. 
 Reluctantly, a few of the more indifferent of the con 
 gregation left the church. A handful of those who did 
 not dare to be among the first to go to the minister, finally 
 went up to offer advice, criticism and caution, but the 
 "pillars" stood firm. 
 
 After a whispered conference between members of 
 the board, the banker passed the minister without a word 
 
A handful * * * finally went up to offer advice, criticism and caution, 
 but the PILLARS stood firm." Page 102. 
 
AN UNFINISHED CHAPTER IC>3 
 
 and from the pulpit called for order. The pastor and 
 all within the church sat down. 
 
 "Brothers and sisters," the banker began, "some time 
 ago the trustees by vote selected a committee to meet 
 with our pastor and lay certain matters before him. 
 He asked that we present these matters in writing, and 
 also map out the course we desired him to pursue in 
 the discharge of his duties as pastor of this church. I 
 do not like to be personal, least of all in church mat 
 ters (Deacon Cannon voiced a loud amen ), but I must 
 say I believe the pastor has shamefully abused his privi 
 lege in the pulpit of this church and I voice the senti 
 ments of the trustees," he hastened to add. "He has 
 abused the privileges of this pulpit in refusing to make 
 answer to our committee after it had complied with his 
 request; in taking our charges and recommendations as 
 a text for what he has been pleased to call a sermon; 
 in openly attacking the committee; in attempting to 
 make it appear that the board of trustees has been ani 
 mated by other than the highest Christian motives in 
 its effort to keep this pulpit free from sensationalism, 
 and unwarranted attacks upon some of our most re 
 spected citizens. Feeling that we are justified in making 
 these charges, and that the cause of true Christianity 
 demands that the officers immediately take steps to pre 
 vent strife and division in the church, the trustees have 
 asked that I announce a meeting of the membership for 
 next Tuesday evening, at which meeting the trustees 
 will present certain recommendations relative to the mat 
 ter I have been discussing " The banker hesitat 
 ing, at a loss how to close, turned, his eyes lit upon Dea 
 con Cannon, a hard-fisted old money grubber who had 
 been at war with the minister from the first because he 
 failed to get enough hell-fire for sinners into his min 
 istry. 
 
 "Will Deacon Cannon lead us in prayer?" the banker 
 asked, and slid to his knees behind the pulpit. 
 
 Deacon Cannon sat blinking his little eyes toward 
 the pulpit long after the members had assumed the pre 
 scribed attitude of prayer. So lost was this good man 
 in contemplation of a final victory over the minister that 
 a second call from the pulpit was necessary to put him 
 in touch with the thing required of him. 
 
IO4 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 Deacon Cannon s enemies contended that he poured 
 all his religion out in prayers on a Sunday and filled up 
 the hollow with mortgages and shaved notes on week 
 days. However that may be, the prayer he sent up 
 that night broke all records he had established before. 
 
 "Good Lord," he prayed, "Lord of all, Great Father 
 in Heaven, give us this day our daily bread, and for 
 give this young man. O Lord, he has come near to 
 a-calling me a whitened seplicker, but I forgive him. 
 And O Lord, I implore thee to do the same. O Lord, 
 I feel that I am a weak sinner wandering in a vale of 
 tears, and thou knowest, O Lord, how often my path 
 way is beset by temptations. O Lord, thou knowest 
 that if man had not bin born to sin, Christ thy son 
 would not have suffered and died, and we would J uv 
 all bin lost in the lake of fire. O Lord, we thank thee 
 that the way is hard, and invite thy divine compassion 
 to fall upon the head of this erring young minister, like 
 manner out of the skies. May his heart be touched 
 with divine grace. May he see the errer of his ways, 
 and may we, O Lord, Brother Baxter, Brother Mann 
 and your humble servant, be endowed with power from 
 on high, as we try to lead him to see the errer of his 
 ways. And if he won t see it, O Lord, may we be armed 
 with the strength of angels, and be en en enabled, O 
 Lord, to scourge him forth from thy holy temple. May 
 we be filled with thy spirit, O Lord! And do, Dear 
 Jesus, come down in power and lead aright them who 
 has given comfort to this young man to-night. May 
 they be brought to see how he has gone against the 
 authority of the officers of this, thy church. O Lord 
 Jesus, give them as aid and abet him a newness of 
 heart that shall bring them to see the errer of their 
 ways. An now, Lord, bless us as we go to our several 
 homes. We ask it all for Jesus sake, amen." 
 
 "Amen, and again amen." It was the minister s 
 voice, heard to the farthest corners of the church, and 
 Deacon Cannon blinked again. 
 
 At the Tuesday meeting it was proven that the Lord 
 was with the trustees. The minister refusing to yield, 
 the officers of the church declared the pulpit vacant. On 
 vote of the church, Deacons Cannon and Baxter were 
 selected as a safe committee to go into distant places 
 
AN UNFINISHED CHAPTER IO5 
 
 in search of a "safe" minister. News of Rev. Mr. 
 Smiley s sermons on "Our Social Sins," had reached a 
 certain church in a certain city, at that time under 
 going periodic regeneration. An opportune call came 
 for him to assist in a great union meeting of the 
 churches, that for the hundredth time had determined 
 finally to drive the devil and all his works from the 
 community. He so pleased his audiences with his at 
 tacks on Gambling, Prostitution, and the Saloon that he 
 was called to fill the pulpit of the First Baptist Church. 
 When he had accepted and for the first time stood be 
 hind the pulpit in a magnificent church as its regular 
 pastor, he wondered if after all Deacons Cannon and 
 Mann and Baxter were not agents in the hands of God 
 to help him on his way by giving him the spur of their 
 opposition. As he looked out over a congregation that 
 filled the church, as a compliment to the "new" minister, 
 he felt that there was still hope that he might preach 
 the full message he believed Christ had delivered to the 
 world. 
 
 Before accepting the call to this church he had felt 
 that there was a work well worth while before him. 
 The city, tiring of the rottenness of its political ma 
 chinery, in an all-too-evident partnership with vice and 
 crime, had decided to clean house. On this wave of pro 
 posed civic righteousness he had entered upon his min 
 istry, and gave valuable assistance to the politicians 
 who had fallen out with the machine and were now 
 struggling for a clean city under a business administra 
 tion. His pulpit, from that first morning when we left 
 him looking out over a splendid audience, rang with 
 condemnation of all social sins. The reformed politi 
 cians, out of office and hungry to get in, exploited every 
 attack against crime, graft, vice and the incompetency 
 of public officials, whether it came from the new preach 
 er s pulpit or some other voicing protest against wrong 
 doing, as a direct charge against the then office-holders. 
 A moral spasm epidemic in the city, coupled with adroit 
 campaigning, won a majority of the votes and gave the 
 city a clean administration, pledged to put all gamblers, 
 porchclimbers, holdup men and prostitutes out of busi 
 ness in short order. All this happened within three 
 months after the new minister began his labors. For 
 
IO6 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 three more long, strenuously-used months he kept at the 
 heels of the newly-elected officials, demanding that they 
 redeem their pledges, and all the while kept hammering 
 social sins from his pulpit. Within another three 
 months he was given to understand that the men who 
 had been elected to carry out the will of God in a city s 
 government were simply a new line-up of old machine 
 hands, and were in no immediate hurry to crush any 
 one of three very profitable vice trusts. In fact, after 
 the excitement had died down, and trie new machine 
 had gotten well under way in the city hall, several of 
 his substantial members had cautioned him against car 
 rying his crusade to extremes. So long as he merely 
 tickled the ears of his congregation with a general con 
 demnation of vice, as he had done prior to the election, 
 all went well; but since that time he had been asking 
 more than a liberal contribution to the fund for the up 
 lift of fallen women, general charities, etc., etc. When 
 he had discovered that neither the city government nor 
 the individual Christians who had been so much in evi 
 dence before election proposed to do anything person 
 ally to blot out the crimes complained of, he, with two 
 young men who believed as he did, that to destroy crime 
 one must go to its source, instead of taking the more 
 popular way of treating the symptoms while trying to 
 "resolve" the criminal into the mood to destroy the thing 
 that fed him, disguised themselves, sought the under 
 world, and in one short month uncovered so much filth, 
 reaching from the city hall to the lowest dens of vice, 
 that they were simply staggered at the complexity of 
 the system and the boldness of its operators. 
 
 In his study the new minister went carefully over the 
 ground with the young men who had been with him in 
 his wanderings. He told them of his past experiences 
 when attempting to bring individual sins home to church 
 members. He pointed out the many difficulties that lay 
 before them should they decide to use the evidence 
 they had gathered in an open fight on the foundations 
 of vice. They were young, had just came out of their 
 first political struggle, were joying in the thought that 
 they had busted a machine, and were hungry for more 
 of the battle. So the minister took courage from their 
 enthusiasm, when they insisted that he would carry the 
 
AN UNFINISHED CHAPTER IO7 
 
 church by storm and compel others to take up the fight. 
 
 They had discovered that three of the members of 
 their church owned property in the "red-light district" 
 and received more rent from this property than prop 
 erty of a like value would bring them in the respect 
 able parts of the city. The minister took these facts 
 direct to the members involved and told them plainly 
 that he was preparing to enter upon a campaign against 
 those who upheld the vice of their city and advised 
 them to get rid of their tenants. One good brother lied 
 to him. A second dodged the issue the first time it 
 was presented, made another date with the crusader and 
 failed to keep it. The third man solemnly affirmed that 
 he had never suspected the nature of his tenants all 
 that was in the hands of his agents, he insisted; then 
 hesitated a long time when the minister asked him for 
 the name of his agent. For a week the pastor and his 
 young lieutenants worked like beavers to get at the bot 
 tom of the cases that affected the several church mem 
 bers. The agent of the last brother interviewed laughed 
 in the preacher s face when the latter chided him for 
 accepting such lease-holders to the everlasting shame of 
 a Christian landlord. 
 
 "Did Mr. Hooker tell you he didn t know what sort 
 of cattle he rented that property to?" the agent de 
 manded. 
 
 "Certainly what else could he say?" the preacher 
 asked in a puzzled voice. 
 
 "He could have told the truth, if he hasn t forgotten 
 how/ the other retorted. 
 
 "My dear sir, you don t mean to " 
 
 "I mean to say that Hooker insisted upon leasing 
 that property to those people against my strong pro 
 test." 
 
 "But why should lie?" 
 
 "Why should he? Say, Mr. Smiley, you are too 
 good to live in this sinful world. Why don t you ask 
 me how old is Ann, or something hard?" 
 
 "But I am in earnest," the minister insisted, "and I 
 asked you that question in all seriousness." 
 
 The real estate man lost his smile right there, and 
 cudgeled his mind for an answer that would satisfy a 
 preacher in earnest, and still not harm a good patron. 
 
IO8 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 However, he did not find the answer, and as the minister 
 pressed him, reasserting that Mr. Hooker had declared 
 that he, the agent, was entirely at fault, the answer 
 came. 
 
 "You tell Old Hooker he s a liar. I wanted to fire 
 that scum the first of the year, but he wouldn t stand 
 for it. They pay more for the place than any one else 
 could afford to pay, and Hooker will never see enough 
 pennies until the devil sets him counting them, so he in 
 sists that I rent the property to the old tenants, but says 
 I ve got to put up the rents. He knows they will pay 
 rather than get out and hunt another landlord. When 
 he says I rent any property to such cattle without orders 
 from the owner he lies. I may not pass a plate in 
 church, as he does, but, by God, I m decent." 
 
 The minister went straight to Brother Hooker s of 
 fice and laid the agent s reply before him. Hooker 
 flushed up, stammered, coughed, squinted his little black 
 eyes at the young fool and made up his mind to have it 
 over with as soon as possible. 
 
 "Ahem, Mr. Smiley, ahem, what do we pay you to 
 do, may I ask?" 
 
 "Preach the gospel of Jesus," came the answer. 
 
 "Yes, yes, that s it, preach the gospel," he rubbed 
 his hands slowly. "Does that include the running of 
 your members private business?" he asked sweetly. 
 
 "No, it does not, and I have never undertaken any 
 such task." 
 
 "Exactly; then pray tell me under what head your 
 visit to my agent comes, if it does not come under the 
 head of interfering in my private business?" Mr. Hook 
 er s voice had grown some between the beginning and 
 end of his question. 
 
 "It comes under the head of a church trial, unless 
 you give me your word of honor that you will put those 
 people out at once." Smiley was angry at Hooker for 
 having lied to him in the beginning, and now that he 
 was fairly trapped wanting to play the same old Baxter 
 dodge on him. 
 
 "Church trial !" Hooker exploded. "Why, you young, 
 young thingemaderry. I built that church. Church 
 trial ! If you talk that sort of rot for a week we ll have 
 to take you by the heels " 
 
AN UNFINISHED CHAPTER ICX) 
 
 "I said church trial, and I meant it." 
 
 "And I say, not in my church! Young man, you re 
 crazy! Too much prominence has turned your head, 
 and my advice to you is to drop this business you ve 
 been monkeying with and stick straight to the gospel, if 
 you don t " 
 
 "If I don t?" Smiley was white and biting his lips. 
 
 "If you don t, you can hunt another church. And 
 God pity them," he added as an afterthought. 
 
 "I want just one more word, Brother Hooker, just 
 one; if I have word from your agent that he has or 
 ders to put those people out before next Sabbath, I will 
 drop your case. If that word does not come, I shall 
 lay the whole sickening, disgusting story before the 
 membership and they will decide between us. Good 
 morning." 
 
 For a week the minister labored over his sermon on 
 the foundations of vice, then submitted it to the two 
 staunch friends. They approved it, and he delivered it 
 to a packed church. 
 
 When the storm broke the pastor stood to his guns 
 and demanded that the members found to be profiting 
 from rentals received from dens of iniquity either dis 
 pose of the property or leave the church. Once more 
 he stood in the presence of a divided church, and in 
 this crisis had less of a following than before, and that 
 in a far larger- congregation. 
 
 A committee chosen from the body of members met 
 to frame up a set of resolutions for the guidance of the 
 pastor, and reported that as each man had to be saved 
 individually it was out of the province of the church 
 to undertake the regulation of the individual s business 
 affairs; they also resolved that it was beneath the dig 
 nity of their pastor to go about among the places he 
 had admitted visiting; thus balancing one shortcoming 
 against another, they further resolved to drop all pro 
 ceedings against erring members and an equally erring 
 pastor, provided the members accused would be care 
 ful in renting their properties in future, and he would 
 agree not to disturb the situation by probing it deeper 
 than a platitudinous sermon would reach. They in 
 sisted that they had elected officials to look after the 
 morals of the city. They, the citizens, paid the officials 
 
110 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 to do their duty. If they refused, the highest, in fact, 
 the only consistent duty of the church was to resolve 
 and pray. Finally, their report insisted that the church 
 had hired Rev. Theo. Smiley to preach; it being the 
 sense of the committee that he should confine his la 
 bors to that, and to the distribution of the no inconsid 
 erable charity of the church. 
 
 The minister asked to be allowed to preach just one 
 more sermon in their splendid church, when he had 
 heard the report read; just one, he pleaded, then they 
 might seek another pastor. A wordy, war followed this 
 appeal, and finally victory came to the few followers of 
 the pastor because they were insistent that he be heard 
 as against the report of the committee. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE CHAPTER FINISHED. 
 
 The last sermon the Rev. Mr. Smiley preached be 
 fore the congregation in M , endeared him to the 
 
 few loyal souls who wanted more than platitudinous dis 
 sertations delivered in lieu of straight-from-the-shoulder 
 condemnation of unrighteousness. And it goes without 
 saying that Elder Hooker s followers were also well sat 
 isfied with the sermon ; it aided them materially in shap 
 ing up their defense against sensationalism in the pulpit. 
 
 The good people of the church in D were, to quote 
 
 an evangelist, "preparing to fight the devil with fire." 
 And as they expected to corner his satanic majesty in 
 the saloon, the Rev. Mr. Smiley was called to fill the 
 pulpit of another First Baptist church and assist in 
 feeding the fires in their crusade. 
 
 Martha Holcomb had been a very dissatisfied mem 
 ber since moving to the city. 
 
 "Now, that I ve got you. Elder," Martha began, as 
 the doctor s wife and the minister were seated on the 
 front porch, "I want to know what you think of the ac 
 tions of them young men last Sunday evening?" The 
 doctor s wife smiled at a porch post and the minister 
 looked his embarrassment. 
 
 "Really, Sister Holcomb, I did not attach much im 
 portance to their behavior. I certainly " 
 
 "You didn t, and you a ordained minister! Well, I 
 don t much wonder. It seems I sensed it, an that s why 
 I came over here when I saw you had stopped. Now, 
 I d like to know if you set much importance on th way 
 your church has ignored my labors since I jined?" Mar 
 tha squared herself for the conflict, well satisfied that 
 the minister s defense would be equally weak in this 
 case. 
 
 "Well, Sister Holcomb, I would like to know two 
 
 111 
 
112 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 things before I answer: what you complain of; then, 
 what you expect." 
 
 "I complain of bein set down on, right from the 
 start." Her voice grew harsh, as she remembered the 
 many slights a would-be fashionable congregation had 
 put upon her. "I want you to know that I allus, from 
 the day I jined father s church, was one of the leadin 
 members, an when I come to your church I expected 
 to take up my work in the vineyard just where I left 
 off in t other church ; but the only thing I git is giggles 
 and titters from the young things, and a cool How de 
 do from the rest. Talk about Christian spirit, why, 
 when I jist offered to shake hands with Judge Jackson s 
 wife an* asked her how all her folks was, she jist glared 
 at me an never offered me her hand. An two or three 
 of them young woman s Christian business things as 
 was a-standin around jist giggled out loud. An what 
 sort of a thing is that young woman s business anyway, 
 a-sendin a lot of young girls an old maids in a-swim- 
 min , an a-fightin with swords an a-playfn all sorts of 
 card games an no mothers to look arter them? I call 
 it scandalous." 
 
 "But, my dear sister, the Y. W. C. A. has a most dis 
 creet and efficient manager in Mrs. Jefferson." 
 
 "Mrs. Jefferson is discreet, is she? Well, all I ve 
 got to say is, that, from what I hev seen of her, she s 
 one of the friskiest widders I ever see, an it s scandal 
 ous the way she behaves when that secretary of the 
 young men s business is around." The minister laughed. 
 "I allowed you d laugh, but you can t make me believe 
 any good comes of puttin a passel of girls into rooms 
 like them with a frisky widder woman, who ain t look- 
 in arter herself properly, to look arter them. An when 
 it comes to the young fellers a-boxin each other s heads 
 off, an a-playin billiards an pool, an* football, an base 
 ball, an doin sich things as that, an callin it religion, 
 why, it jist shows me how little real religion they is now 
 adays." 
 
 "You don t mean to imply that you are opposed to 
 the Y. M. C. A. and the Y. W. C. A. ?" 
 
 "Yes, I do. Them boys is a-learnin to play games, 
 an when they git out in the world they re a-goin t th 
 saloons and sich places to find them ; an you know that 
 
THE CHAPTER FINISHED 113 
 
 a lot of young fellers that goes into the Y. M. C. A. 
 hain t got no call to be called anything but young heath 
 ens, an* when it comes to lookin close, the other end of 
 this business ain t much better. Ain t there been a rob 
 bery an* two other suspicious cases in th buildin this 
 year?" 
 
 "Yes, but that s no more a charge against the Asso 
 ciation than the backsliding of a member is chargeable 
 against the church," Mr. Smiley replied gently. 
 
 "No, I reckon not, when the minister preaches noth- 
 in but milk an honey an a forgivin God. You ain t 
 preached but two good sermons since I bin in the church, 
 an they won t let you preach another in a hurry. My 
 father preached an preached the gospel, an I ain t 
 heard it preached but once since he died. An I want 
 to say, that we had a real live church. They wasn t 
 none of your flimadiddle clubs an* classes, an associa 
 tions, an they wasn t no suicides an robbin , an when 
 a member backslid he backslid plum into the lake of 
 brimstone, an he didn t have no bouquets to take along, 
 either. When I ask about anything in your church, any 
 work that ought to be done, I m jist informed in so 
 many words that it s in the hands of this committee or 
 that one, and they re sure to do it better n I could. An 
 so, along with havin preached hell out of the church, 
 an goin into partnership with the Idolaters an a hob- 
 nobbin with Catholics, Unitarians an Universalites an 
 sich trash, an a-goin in fer all sorts of clubs an things 
 an a-takin the work of the church out of the hands of 
 the members, it jist seems to me that they ain t no sanc- 
 tification no more. Why, jist last Sunday I see three 
 women I hadn t noticed afore, a-takin the Lord s Sup 
 per, an after meetin I went to them an tried to git 
 acquainted as a Christian ought to when strangers come 
 to the house of the Lord; an* what do you s pose I 
 heard that beautiful guardian of young girls, your dear 
 Mrs. Jefferson, a-whisperin to the fust one, as soon as 
 I d turned my back? Well, she giggled an said: Oh, 
 that s Mrs. Holcomb. She s our cross from the coun 
 try. Then both of em giggled, an the secretary of 
 the young men s business, he up an ast them, Did they 
 hear me in the Bible class? an they all laughed. Now, 
 I tried to do my Christian duty by them women, who I 
 
114 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 reckon are some more guardians over young girls, an* 
 they all jist stared at me; an their hands, when I did 
 git hold of them, was like dead fish, an their eyes didn t 
 have a spark of soul in em. An talkin about that 
 Bible class I got so tired of them a-dodgin th plain 
 written words about hell an eternal punishment an 
 a-makin light of all the things Christ taught about 
 Christian duty an the crosses one has to bear in this 
 here world that I got plumb disgusted with the whole 
 passel. They hain t nothin but jist a nice little debatin 
 society, an almighty careful what they debate about, at 
 that. So I jist made up my mind, when I found hell 
 mentioned right out in the lesson fer last Sunday, that 
 they wouldn t git a chance to dodge it that time, an 
 they didn t. An then to have that class of young fellers 
 laugh out loud, when I told Old Lockhard the Lord 
 would singe his old goat whiskers for him, cause he 
 said they wasn t any call to talk about a hell here 
 after, when they could git a smell of it every Sunday 
 right in church/ or I d miss my guess. I jist said then 
 the first time I set eyes on Elder Smiley I m goin to 
 ask him to preach from the text, An tli wicked shall 
 be consumed in a lake of burnin fire ; and I want you 
 to, will you do it?" 
 
 Martha leaned forward and eyed her pastor, her face 
 expressing a doubt as to his willingness to commit him 
 self, in face of what she considered the infidelity of 
 his members. 
 
 "Do you insist upon this wording of my text?" he 
 inquired. 
 
 "Them are the words as I hev carried them in my 
 heart all the years I bin in the church. An if I didn t 
 believe them, I could be jist as milk and watery, jist as 
 unconcerned as the rest of your members. Believin 
 them words, I hev gone aginst my own flesh an blood, 
 an*, suffered, an suffered, an sanctified my life. An I 
 won t be set down on by no infidels in a church, when I 
 spurn the infidels in my own home. Are you a-goin to 
 preach that sermon?" 
 
 The minister looked at her hard-lined face, scarred 
 deep in the battle of years. 
 
 "Yes, sister," he answered, "I will. I may not be 
 
THE CHAPTER FINISHED 1 15 
 
 able to meet your approval, but I shall preach from your 
 text." 
 
 "Land alive !" Martha arose, shading her eyes with 
 her hand. "There s Jed Holcomb back, as sure as I 
 live. Well, I must be a-going home; I m much obliged 
 to you, Elder, an I shall pray that you git help to make 
 that sermon fit your congregation." 
 
 When Martha had gone the two sat in silence for 
 a time. 
 
 "She is impossible," the woman remarked. 
 
 "Like many of us," the minister answered. Then he 
 told the doctor s wife of his early struggles in the min 
 istry. This woman had been a second mother to him, 
 and to-day, with the complaints of a congregation in 
 mind, it seemed good to unburden his heart to her. 
 
 "I feel like preaching hell-fire, and I wish I believed 
 it as literally as does Mrs. Holcomb." 
 
 They looked across at the home where Jed and Mary 
 had just met upon the walk in front of the house. 
 
 "Oh, no, you don t," the woman insisted. "All the 
 troubles of the church, and Sister Holcomb s troubles 
 on top of them, have upset you. You ll be all right in 
 a week." 
 
 "I don t know," he declared. "It seems as though 
 everything is slipping away from me; even my sancti- 
 fication." 
 
 "Never mind that," the woman laughed; "just keep 
 the milk and honey; Sister Holcomb has enough sancti- 
 fication to supply #ie city." 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A WHITE SLAVE TRADER. 
 
 Pagan s place is not pretentious, consisting as it does 
 of three "flats" and one of those grim-faced grogshops 
 that grow, fungus-like, in portions of our cities given 
 over to the poverty-cursed of many lands, the old-clothes 
 man, second-hand shoe stores, rag shops, and brothels. 
 
 Fagan is entitled to another name, but at this mo 
 ment it matters not; the name she bears fits as well to 
 her calling as did that of the old London Jew to his. 
 However, we know how she came to- be christened 
 "Fagan" amongst the thugs, short-time men, card sharps, 
 pimps and pikers of her world. Before she discovered 
 the all-power that rested in "seeing" the elected guard 
 ians of public morals when in trouble, she had been ar 
 rested so often upon the charge of running a "fence" for 
 child thieves (and older ones probably brought her a 
 goodly share of their loot) that she came rightly by her 
 title. And it stuck, even after she took up the more aris 
 tocratic business of furnishing girls to discriminating 
 customers : also to the other slave pens in the pool. 
 
 One of her shining satellites, "Slick" Snively, is 
 never seen at Fagan s, yet he is in her employ occasion 
 ally, and is one of the best decoys in the business. He 
 is young, good looking, and as yet able physically to 
 ward off those telltale marks of dissipation which will 
 begin to show upon him in a year or two; then good- 
 by to the job that brings him an easy living to-day. 
 From there to the end of life s chapter his lot will be 
 cast with the semi-criminal class which feeds upon both 
 criminal and respectable alike. At this time Snively 
 has no thought of the end. In the full glory of his 
 power and patronage he sees a golden future stretching 
 away before him. A future filled with women and 
 horses, and he playing both for the limit. 
 
 It is only necessary that the quarry be pointed out to 
 116 
 
A WHITE SLAVE TRADER 117 
 
 "Slick" and the reward offered for her capture sufficient 
 to arouse his cupidity, for him to labor incessantly to 
 accomplish his ends. What sort of labor is this? Well, 
 for the open market "Slick" inserts a "want ad" in one 
 or more of our daily newspapers that reads like this : 
 
 "Wanted At once, young women of good appear 
 ance under twenty preferred light work, steady em 
 ployment and refined surroundings. Pay liberal, and 
 sure promotion. Z 42." 
 
 To all who answer, a letter is sent upon stationery 
 purporting to have come from a suit, cloak and furnish 
 ing house, in need of models, fitters, salesladies, etc., 
 etc. The writer requests the applicant to send a photo, 
 state age, height, weight, etc. If all questions are an 
 swered to the satisfaction of "Slick," he writes these 
 daughters of labor to meet him at a given address, or 
 that they will be met by a lady agent of the concern, if 
 they live in the city. If they have been lured from small 
 country towns or farm homes, once in "Slick s" clutches 
 their fate is sealed. Both Fagan and her agent like the 
 country-grown article of merchandise better than the 
 feity product, and are always on the lookout for what 
 "Slick" jocularly dubs "Fresh Country Butter." 
 
 A plump little roll of "Fresh Country Butter" once 
 safely landed in the city would be taken either direct 
 from the depot, or from one of Fagan s arranged places 
 of rendezvous, with her luggage, a loving mother s last 
 kiss, a father s "God bless you, little girl," or a brother s 
 "Good luck, and lots of it, little sister," still lingering 
 with her mid the confusing bustle of the city s surging 
 life, to a place Fagan has selected for her latest "white 
 slave." A place where all her pleas for mercy are 
 thrown back into her crimsoned face by rough brutes 
 clothed as men, and women who have had all of wom 
 anhood burned out of them in a worse than hell s fire. 
 A place where she must yield her virtue within a given 
 time or go naked. If nakedness will not "cure" her, 
 starvation follows. Should she withstand torture and 
 still refuse to yield her body for Fagan s profit, this 
 daughter of the people, this child of labor, seeking only 
 the means to life in food, clothing and shelter, must in 
 the end submit to the ordeal that in our southland costs 
 the perpetrator his life at the stake. Shocked? Can 
 
Il8 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 this be true? Why not? Your whole system of prosti 
 tution is based and grounded in the profit system. If 
 this girl dies, Fagan loses the dollars it has cost her to 
 gain possession of the girl s body. "Slick" must be paid. 
 The officials of a Christian city must be "sugared." T 
 assure you the raping of innocence is but an incident in 
 the lives of those who operate our White Slave Pens 
 in Christian America. 
 
 Other means are used to bring victims to Pagan s. 
 Other want ads are inserted in our papers. Other agents 
 beside "Slick" take commission. When Fagan has a 
 customer who wants a certain mill or shop girl whose 
 ruin he could not accomplish, "Slick" has been put upon 
 the scent, and by hook or crook, be it weeks or months 
 in working out, he secures the girl s confidence and 
 finally gets her to accompany him to a place where she 
 can be "handled" without fear of interference. Then, 
 when she is safely housed, and ready to surrender, the 
 man who sought her ruin in the first place appears as a 
 "savior" and shows her the only way out. 
 
 But one scene in our story is laid at Pagan s. But 
 one of the growing "army of white slaves" plays a part 
 in the unfoldment of our tale, and this is the manner in 
 which the victim was lured into the net. But wait, let 
 us first enter the home of the Widow Davis in the little 
 village of Longs Point, and make the acquaintance of 
 the family. 
 
 "Oh, mother, Pve just got an answer to the letter 
 I wrote Mr. Johnson, and they want me to come next 
 Monday, sure. Think of it ! Pm to have fifteen dollars 
 a week at the very start, and more in just a little while." 
 The speaker, a bright-faced girl of eighteen, threw her 
 self into her mother s arms and, patting the older wom 
 an s cheeks, protested, "Now, mother, wasn t you a 
 goose to object to my sending my photo to them? You 
 may read it yourself they say they especially need just 
 such a figure for a model to exhibit all kinds of fine 
 gowns and cloaks to their stylish customers. My, won t 
 it be jolly? For once in my life I am going to have 
 more clothes on my back than I can ever wear out." 
 Her joyous laugh and the low sobbing of the mother 
 sounded together for a moment after the girl had ceased 
 
A WHITE SLAVE TRADER IIQ 
 
 speaking; then the mother, drying her eyes on a corner 
 of her apron, looked up and tried bravely to smile 
 through unshed tears, as she said: 
 
 "I don t want to even seem unselfish, Estella. but I 
 do hate to have you go not only because we will miss 
 you so, but there s so many pitfalls in the big cities, 
 child; so many. You have been all your life in this 
 quiet little town, and I ve tried hard to keep a home 
 roof, and the three of us together " 
 
 "Mother, dear," the girl interrupted, her eyes filling, 
 "you are not going to lose me. I m not going to the 
 jumping-ofr" place ; and I m not going to get hung, mur 
 dered, or drowned; I m just going to try my wings. 
 Why, I ll be all of eighteen whole years old in a month, 
 and if you say so I will come home then, just to show 
 you how groundless your fears and suspicions have 
 been, and how much of a woman I am grown to be in 
 the city in one little month." 
 
 "But Stella, don t you think it would be well to 
 give this letter to our minister and have him investigate 
 and see if this firm is really respectable? I ve heard 
 some awful stories about the way they treat girls in 
 some of those places." 
 
 "Why, mother, that would take weeks and weeks. 
 Besides, here s their letterhead," she took the letter in 
 question from her mother s trembling hand, "not just 
 a printed one, you see, but well, anyway, I don t know 
 what they call it, but you can see it s expensive, and 
 you don t suppose they d go to all that trouble if they 
 were not in business ? Besides, they say, Our reliability 
 is attested by the record of our sales last year, amount 
 ing to above five hunderd thousand dollars/ And then 
 they want me next Monday " 
 
 "The minister could go in," the mother began. 
 
 "How you talk, mother. Just as though a big firm 
 like that would want to keep a place waiting for a little 
 country girl while ministers or any one else nosed 
 around asking if they were respectable." Throwing her 
 arms about her mother, she concluded: Not another 
 word, mother mine, not one more tiny little word. 1 
 wrote them before I came up from the store." 
 
 The mother s voice was muffled as she answered 
 from the girl s shoulder. "It ought not to be so hard 
 
I2O . MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 for me to let you go, dear heart, for you are a good 
 girl, and can take care of yourself, and I suppose I 
 shouldn t make objections when I know you always do 
 the very best you can for me and, and Stella, I can 
 trust you anywhere to love God and live right, can t I ? * 
 
 "Yes, mother, always," with a kiss. "There, there, 
 run out into the kitchen. Ann is coming, and I want to 
 surprise her all by myself. That s a good mother." 
 
 Mrs. Davis had but left the room when her eldest 
 daughter, an overworked teacher in the towii school, 
 came in and threw herself into the nearest chair. 
 
 "I declare, I am just fagged out. Why, Stell, what s 
 this?" She had taken the letter from her sister s hand 
 at the moment she sat down, but had been so absorbed in 
 her own troubles that her mind had not grasped what 
 her eyes saw upon the paper. After that first question 
 ing, "what is this?" she did not lift her eyes from the 
 letter until it had been read to the end. 
 
 "Fifteen dollars per week, Stella? And nothing to 
 do but try on clothes. Say, Stell, just try and get me 
 a job there." She looked up at the radiant girl and 
 tried to put on a brave face, even tho the tears were 
 close. "You with your plump figure, togged out in a 
 thousand-dollar gown, could have me, or what s left of 
 me, after eight years fighting with an average of forty- 
 eight boys for nine months out of each year, stand be 
 side you in my bones, and Miss Botcher s dress fitting 
 why, it would be immense!" Both girls laughed as 
 they thought of the dressmaker whose name fitted so 
 well, then Ann went on seriously: "Stell, you think 
 it over, and tell your head window trimmer about it ; he 
 could paint a sign, "Before and After Wearing Our 
 Gowns," and hang it up over us. We are near enough 
 alike in features to pass say, Stell, you must get me 
 a job." 
 
 "Mother s afraid to let me go," Estella began, when 
 Ann, forgetting her fatigue, sprang from the chair 
 and almost took her sister from her feet as she caught 
 and kissed her. "Afraid to let you go?" she repeated. 
 "Of course she s afraid to let you go why, she used 
 to be afraid to let me go out and close the yard gate 
 after dark, and that isn t so long ago, either. But you 
 go. Don t stay in this town and be buried before you 
 
A WHITE SLAVE TRADER 121 
 
 die. Look at me, Stell I was just as pretty and plump 
 as you are, at your age; and I m worked to death at 
 twenty-five, and no one seems to care any more." With 
 quivering lips and eyes filled with tears the teacher 
 looked into her young sister s bright face, and, pluckily 
 putting self behind her, went on: "Don t miss your 
 chance to go where people live ; it may never come again 
 I ll do my best to keep mother in good spirits." 
 
 "Oh, Ann, you are so good!" Estella whispered; 
 "you are good to both of us and honestly, Ann, I am 
 not at all anxious for myself; I, too, want to help keep 
 this little home for mother." 
 
 That evening after consulting time tables the wid 
 ow s daughters sent a message to the city stating that 
 Estella Davis would arrive at the Grand Central depot 
 at four o clock the afternoon of the next Sunday. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 MADAME VAUGHN S AND THE EAGLE CLUB. 
 
 In an old red brick mansion, gray stone trimmed, set 
 well back in shaded grounds on one of the respectable 
 thoroughfares of the metropolis wherein the tragedy of 
 this tale unfolds, there is high revel to-night. Madame 
 Vaughn and her daughters (by adoption) and nieces 
 pro tanto, who have their automobile, carriage, trap, and 
 liveried attendants, are enjoying a prosperous season. 
 
 Once upon a time a time held green in the memory 
 of staid business men, and mothers of other mothers 
 this old red brick mansion was new. Within its wel 
 coming portals tripped the youth and beauty of a city 
 growing to the years of accountability. There was then 
 laughter and song within these walls children s happy 
 voices and the echoes of scampering little feet, filled 
 out the measure of harmony. 
 
 But hold ! Is there not laughter and song to-night ? 
 Yes, they are laughing but such laughter ! Those who 
 make it have forgotten how to make laughter that 
 sweet bubbling over of pure joy. But they are singing. 
 Yes, surely Madame Vaughn s daughters and nieces 
 sing. Listen to the ribald words, rude flung from lips 
 that have lost the perfume of youth s sweet flowers 
 music wrung in ragtime from the lips of women who 
 each day sink lower and still lower into the yawning 
 quagmire of vice, and cease to struggle, even while there 
 is hope of rescue, for struggling means remembrance, 
 and to them, the great majority of them, remembrance is 
 as a death s-head at a feast. 
 
 Madame Vaughn s old red brick mansion, with its 
 gray stone trimmings, this night, all nights, knows both 
 song and laughter, if you are satisfied to so name the 
 sounds we hear in passing. Within the portals of this 
 old rmnsion "the better element" of our citizenship pass 
 and repass. No Hooligan or harlot from the street; no 
 
 122 
 
MADAME VAUGHN S AND THE EAGLE CLUB 123 
 
 common laborer or factory girl on the downward way 
 may pass the gilded, guarded portals of this great estab 
 lishment, where the cheapest room rents for twenty dol 
 lars per night, while the best accommodations the house 
 affords, with Madarne s sweet-scented presence in at 
 tendance, at the minimum, costs one hundred dollars. 
 No, this old red brick mansion is not a brothel it is 
 worse! Here those who pose and preach, and hold 
 themselves above the common life, meet to do to death 
 the social virtues of our time. 
 
 We will enter. Are you safely past the doorkeeper? 
 Then follow me to the parlor. Once upon a time the 
 portraits of men and women who had served their coun 
 try and their families with equal honor adorned these 
 walls. Look you! They have been replaced by works 
 of art depicting God s fairest gift to earth naked and 
 not ashamed. This floor was covered once upon a time 
 with a carpet hallowed by the tread of women whose 
 passions were sanctified in the lives of prattling babies. 
 See, in the corner there; a dark stain is peeping from 
 underneath that rug with a border of lilies of the valley. 
 Just the other night a young man, seeking the depths of 
 life s cup of madness, found a sister in the woman they 
 would have put into his polluted arms. Their mingled 
 blood ate deep into the sturdy oak. Yes, they washed 
 and washed again, but this stain, like the social sin from 
 which it had birth, may not be washed away the very 
 flooring must be torn out. 
 
 See those bronzes? Behold the priceless marbles, 
 mirrors, and other splendid furnishings. Look well ! 
 To pay for each adornment within these naked walls 
 women have wept countless tears, both here and in 
 ruined homes. Souls have shriveled, arid bodies have 
 been consumed in an agony of pain known only to those 
 damned souls who have visited the bottom of Hell s 
 deepest cave. Look about you and ponder well. This 
 old red brick mansion is but a type. In this broad land, 
 for each church spire pointing toward the blue, there 
 stands a "Madame Vaughn s," and this curse is being 
 fastened more firmly each day upon us, while the pus 
 from this social ulcer wells up and flows into respectable 
 homes over the doorsills dedicated to the sanctity of 
 virtue and family honor. 
 
124 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 But let us be going. On a Sunday night in the fu 
 ture, as the chimes ring out the hour of worship from 
 an hundred church towers, we shall return. Then you 
 shall look upon an animated picture; and as you look, 
 your very heart shall sob and your soul cry out that 
 this cup, too, may pass from the lips of innocence. 
 
 The Eagle Club is housed in a most pretentious 
 structure. As I have gazed upon it from over the way, 
 I have not wondered that many of our good citizens, 
 who fall below its requirements in the matter of any 
 one or more of the requisites to membership a goodly 
 bank account, a well-tested political pull, and last, but 
 not least, a way of finding easy money feel envious, 
 yet withal are proud that WE have such a magnificent 
 club building and Club within our city. 
 
 Certainly, there are other Clubs, and some of them 
 quite pretentious, but the "Eagle," like that old red 
 brick mansion, gray stone trimmed, easily stands at the 
 head. What the saloon of our political ward-heeler 
 "Bat" is to the brothel, the "Eagle" and its brood is 
 to such establishments as that of Madame Vaughn. 
 
 See how imposing is its massive granite front. Sup 
 porting the beautiful cornice of winged Cupids, those 
 splendid monoliths give one the impression of super- 
 strength. Behold its great plate windows flanked by 
 iron, tortured by the cunning hand of skilled workmen 
 into marvelous creations flowers and leaves, and curv 
 ing, twisting, curling threads of drawn metal. See 
 those great doors? As they hang loaded with a wealth 
 of bronze trimmings they each cost a prince s ransom. 
 
 Behind all this outward show of strength and beauty 
 there is a prodigality of wealth a riot of luxurious ap 
 pointment, and menial service par excellence. If you 
 but have the "front" necessary to gain admittance to 
 the Eagle Club, an hundred doors open to your need 
 of asylum. Within the*e walls you may do anything 
 short of murder, and the flunkies, so long as they are 
 retained, will keep your secrets as do the massive granite 
 walls. Your friends, whatever the bond that binds them 
 to you loyalty, pull, graft, business, vice, crime, or 
 what not may reach you through the "Eagle," and all 
 
125 
 
 the world outside will remain in ignorance of your 
 meeting, or your plotting. 
 
 These massive doors, front, side and rear, lead into 
 many suites where young men learn to take the down 
 ward way; where drunkards are made to order; where 
 women, and many of them wives, are bought and sold ; 
 where the people s liberties are traded in by statesmen 
 as puts and calls are dealt upon the board of trade; 
 where Captains of Industry plan their gentlemen s 
 agreements and their next sally upon some crippled busi 
 ness; where employers meet the agents they have hired 
 to hire other men to spy upon the men in their em 
 ploy; where judges and attorneys meet to misconstrue 
 the law. 
 
 Here, behind these massive walls, you may see the 
 meeting of all the forces that cut deep into the virtues 
 of our time, save one. Saloon, hotel and lodging house, 
 this club has such respect for Madame Vaughn and the 
 common decencies that women are barred by law. How 
 ever, it has been whispered that members have enter 
 tained lady friends, the latter in male attire. 
 
 In its gymnasium on quiet nights "pugs" from the 
 squared circle are entertained. In its card rooms, young 
 bloods who live beyond the need to labor sit down to 
 lose the gold their fathers wrung from industry to card 
 sharps who in politics are leaders in the municipality s 
 struggle for better things. In athletics the gaming pro 
 clivities of the Eagle s brood debases whatsoever it 
 touches. 
 
 Are the majority of the members of the Eagle such 
 debased, depraved, debauched men as this indictment 
 would imply? No, surely not! The Eagle Club can 
 send its full membership forth ttpon short notice to 
 grace a "function" in the name of charity, and each 
 man jack of them will appear in immaculate linen, fault 
 lessly attired, and stand approved of the world a gen 
 tleman. Again, within its portals this club has enter 
 tained the paunchy prognosticator and the gold-filled 
 human icicle. Its lavish hospitality has been tested by 
 every grade of nobleman the old world has produced, 
 and others who, craving the servile worship of the free 
 and the brave, to say nothing of the chance of securing 
 a few good American millions, have passed the portals 
 
126 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 of the Eagle as lords, counts, dukes, and earls, when in 
 truth they were but sorry adventurers, though probably 
 of better blood than were the men they aped. No, surely 
 the Eagle Club is not to be lightly condemned. Its 
 every member has the outward seeming of gentility; 
 and this same outward seeming is society s sole badge 
 of honor. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 A WHITE SLAVE PEN. 
 
 On the Sunday appointed for the introduction of 
 just another of our country girls to the mysteries of 
 city life, a closed carriage drew up on a side street near 
 the depot at ten minutes to four. "Slick" Snively 
 alightei therefrom and sauntered over to the great .cen 
 tral station, leaving no less a personage in the carriage 
 than Fagan. At five minutes past four Slick" reap 
 peared at the least frequented exit from the station car 
 rying a suit case and leading a pretty young woman. 
 Immediately the driver of Pagan s carriage whipped up 
 his team and pulled up on the corner just long enough 
 to allow Fagan to open the door from within, when 
 "Slick" threw the suitcase in and hurriedly assisted the 
 young lady to enter. With a signal to the driver "Slick" 
 turned and walked rapidly toward the heart of the city, 
 as the carriage rattled away over the ill-paved streets 
 toward the south. 
 
 Upon regaining her breath after being hurried from 
 the train to the carriage Estella took a good look at the 
 lady sitting opposite no, she didn t like her but then, 
 in business we are not supposed to like people ; we either 
 use them or they use us. Was Mrs. Collins going to 
 speak first? It seemed that that lady was well pleased 
 with the golden silence. "Well, one of us must begin," 
 the girl told herself, and the next moment was saying: 
 "Pardon me; is this Mrs. Collins?" 
 
 Yes, I m Mrs. Collins," the lady replied, smiling, 
 and wondered how many other names "Slick" would in 
 vent for her. 
 
 "Mr. Johnson informs me that you are the leading 
 saleslady, and will have charge of my education." Fa 
 gan nodded, and Estella asked: "May I enquire where 
 we are going?" 
 
 "I am taking you to my house." 
 127 
 
128 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "I m so glad!" the girl exclaimed, and added: "I 
 must look like a fright after riding almost all day but 
 isn t it putting you out to take me to your home?" 
 
 "Oh, no," Pagan assured her, "I am quite used to 
 taking care of the girls Mr. Johnson gets for our busi 
 ness." Turning from the girl s searching eyes, she 
 smiled grimly as she noted the progress they were mak 
 ing. 
 
 The sights of the town had attracted Estella s atten 
 tion and she was intensely interested in the passing 
 throng, while a number of those at whom she gazed 
 turned a second time to look at the sweet face at the 
 carriage window. Seeing this, Fagan deliberately low 
 ered the blinds over the upper half of the glass, observ 
 ing as she did so, that she didn t enjoy being stared at. 
 
 When the carriage stopped in front of Pagan s there 
 wasn t a soul in sight, unless we are charitable enough to 
 assume that the beer-tub of a policeman, who waddled 
 away as the carriage drew up to the curb, had a soul. 
 This policeman, as dirty as the law allows ; as lazy as a 
 fat coon at the after end of a sun bath, knew all about 
 Pagan s. His waddling away out of sight of the house 
 would allow him to swear upon honor, should trouble 
 come, that, he "never seen nobody tooken out iv th rig 
 th day ye mention." 
 
 Gus, Pagan s burly bartender, ran out and opened 
 the carriage door, the driver and he exchanging winks 
 and grins the while. Fagan threw the suitcase to him: 
 as he caught it with one hand he reached the other beer- 
 stained paw into the carriage. 
 
 "Let the gentleman help you out," Fagan admonished 
 the girl, who shrank back from the leering hulk before 
 her. In an undertone the woman asked: "Is the coast 
 clear, Gus?" 
 
 Gus winked, caught Estella by the sleeve of her 
 jacket, and in a twinkling, with the assistance of Fagan, 
 the girl was whisked over the pavement and started on 
 her way to the upper world ; but not before she had 
 caught a glimpse of the wretched street, the dirty, grime- 
 covered pavement and the sickening squalor of all vis 
 ible things about her. On the first landing Fagan 
 turned to Gus, who still held Estella s arm in his grasp, 
 
A WHITE SLAVE PEN 
 
 and said: "I can manage her now you get back to 
 the bar." 
 
 Down the hall Estella heard a man s voice in song, 
 then the high falsetto of a female voice joined in the 
 chorus. The words of the song unprintable brought 
 a blush of shame to her cheeks. Out of a near-by door 
 way appeared a tousled-headed woman who had ap 
 parently just gotten out of bed. Her eyes were swollen, 
 her face blotched with great, angry red pimples, her 
 lips thick and protruding her whole aspect one of aban 
 don to dissipation and disease that had marked her for 
 early death. 
 
 "Ruth," Pagan called to this wretched being, 
 "where s Red? " 
 
 "I don t know," Ruth answered, and again the chorus 
 of that awful song floated out to them. Estella was 
 struck dumb, almost paralyzed with fear, and her inno 
 cent brown eyes were turned upon the face of the woman 
 Ruth. Horror, loathing, and all else that a pure young 
 girl might feel in her presence, Ruth read in her face. 
 
 "What th devil are you staring at?" she demanded, 
 coming closer to the girl, who shrank back as from con 
 tagion. 
 
 "You re some now, ain t you? But you wait," the 
 woman laughed. "If you re alive in five years just take 
 another look in the glass that s all." With that she 
 turned to her room and, entering, slammed the door. 
 
 Estella had fallen at the feet of her captor without 
 uttering a word. Ruth was called ; so, too, the drunken 
 man and his equally drunken companion; between them, 
 this new victim of the "system" was carried to the tog 
 floor and deposited on a filthy bed in an inside room, 
 where outcry could not be heard from the outside world ; 
 where rescue was all but impossible. 
 
 A bottle of vile whisky produced from the pocket 
 of the drunken man, the burning liquid was forced be 
 tween the lips of this sweet flower from God s garden 
 one of the children we love who had been lured into 
 hell. Lured into hell that respectable citizens and poli 
 ticians might make profit out of the distillation of her 
 beauty and virtue, then fling the residue of her young 
 life on society s dung-heap for "W. C. A. s" and other 
 kindred patchers to pry at and pray over. 
 
130 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 While the drunken man caressed his equally drunken 
 mate; while Pagan stood speculating as to the cost of 
 bringing the girl across ; while Ruth looked at the new 
 comer with envy, telling herself that should she have 
 such a chance as she saw ahead of this beautiful girl 
 she would not be such a fool as to take to dope again; 
 while they stood grouped about the bed, Estella re 
 gained consciousness. Springing from the bed, she ran 
 to the door, to find it locked. With a cry that pierced 
 to the floors below she threw out her hands: 
 
 "Mother, mother, mother God forgive me! you 
 knew !" 
 
 "Oh, if mother could only see me now !" the drunken 
 man mocked, while Ruth and his companion laughed at 
 the agony of the victim. 
 
 "Clear out and leave her to me !" Pagan commanded, 
 and the trio quit the room, the man insisting that he 
 was entitled to a kiss for having carried her upstairs. 
 "Send Red up!" Pagan shouted after them, and turned 
 to find the girl on her knees at her feet. 
 
 Mrs. Collins, tell me," the girl pleaded, "as >ou 
 remember your own mother, "what kind of a place is 
 this you have brought me to? Tell me, in the name of 
 God!" 
 
 "Oh, cut it!" Pagan cried, catching Estella by the 
 shoulders. "I m tired of hearing you young things beg 
 in the name of God for a day or two, then in the name 
 of mercy after you find that the preacher s god don t 
 reach outside the church; then when you know what 
 
 you re up against, it s Please, Fa Mrs. Collins, tell 
 
 me what you want and I ll do it/ I tell you I m tired 
 of it." 
 
 Shuddering in every fiber of her being, this seven 
 teen-year-old daughter of the church crouched before 
 her captor. No longer holding to the skirts of this hag 
 of hell, the literal, all too literal hell, she bowed her 
 head and steeled her heart to hear her doom. 
 
 "There s no hope of any of your people finding you." 
 The girl winced, but no sound escaped her set lips. 
 "And so if you have a lick of sense you will take what s 
 a straight tip. The sooner you and I come to terms, 
 the sooner you ll get out of this room and move down 
 stairs. With your youth and that face and figure of 
 
A WHITE SLAVE PEN 13! 
 
 yours, the fool men will fall over themselves to give 
 you anything you ask for ; and I tell you flat you ve got 
 to come to it. You re going to have time to think it 
 over; but when that time s up there ll be things doing 
 if you don t come across, that s all." 
 
 Pagan looked down at her victim, and in a matter 
 -of-fact voice added: "When you come right down to 
 business, this is just as honorable and all that sort of 
 rot, as marrying for money so make up your mind to 
 do what I want you to, and the sooner you db the bet 
 ter for you. For instance, how would you like to have 
 Gus, the gent that met us at the carriage, come up and 
 visit you?" 
 
 "Oh, not that! not that!" Estella protested, spring 
 ing to her feet to face her tormentor. 
 
 Pagan backed toward the door, saying: "Well, think 
 it over there s been girls in this room that fared 
 worse." 
 
 For hours after Fagan left the room Estella Davis 
 lay upon the filthy bed weeping and praying, then com 
 plete exhaustion brought sleep to her troubled mind s 
 rescue. When she awoke it was to find a red-haired 
 woman bending over her, saying in no unfriendly voice : 
 "So our country bird has had a good night s sleep, has 
 she ?" 
 
 "Have I been here all night? Is this another day? 
 O my God, I can t bear to think. Is there no way out 
 of this wretched place? Please, please help me; isn t 
 there a way out?" The girl poured a flood of ques 
 tions at the woman who stood by the bed intently study 
 ing her. 
 
 A chill of death pierced her heart as she looked into 
 the woman s eyes, when she had spent herself question 
 ing, and heard "Red" Kate s verdict: 
 
 "There s just two ways, an one of them s to die." 
 
 "If I don t do what Mrs. Collins wants, how long 
 will they keep me here?" 
 
 "Until you re ready to give in and do like the rest 
 of us has to do. I tell you there s only one way to git 
 out of here alive," "Red" asserted, firmly. 
 
 Leaving the bed, Estella examined every corner of 
 her prison, peered into a smelly clothes closet, turned to 
 another door and found nothing but a pile of filthy rags 
 
132 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 in an equally filthy toilet room; all lit from a skylight 
 upon which the year s accumulation of soot and dirt 
 had never been removed. In all her search she found 
 nothing upon which to hang a hope for bodily comfort, 
 let alone a way looking toward liberty. Turning back 
 to the woman who had watched her every movement, 
 she inquired, "Where are my clothes and all the things 
 I brought here?" 
 
 "Perkin up some, all right, when you can ask after 
 your glad rags the second day," Kate observed, as the 
 girl sat on the edge of the bed. "First one I ve seen in 
 here that didn t* either pull out hair by the handful, or 
 sulk like a settin hen. Say," she continued, "I would 
 honest hate to see you stripped and starved. You re 
 made of th right stuff, an* I d like f help you. You 
 jist better tell the Madame you re ready for biz an have 
 it over with. An you don t need to worry none, she 
 ain t going to hand you over to Gus an th gang that 
 comes here; she won t turn you over to no such blokes 
 as them. Why (with cool, discriminating eye judgment 
 she looked the girl over from head to foot), you ought 
 to fetch the top, an fall plump into a tub of good things. 
 God, girl ! I wisht I had your chance !" Her exclama 
 tion was vehement. 
 
 As the girl measured the woman before her, and 
 realized that she was speaking from the heart, earnest 
 ly seeking to do what lay in her power to aid, a deep 
 pity for the woman filled her soul. "Red" Kate was not 
 all bad, then; something of womanliness was still hers 
 after the buffeting of all the years of her slavery. 
 
 "What do you mean? What chance do they offer 
 me, which, if you had it, would improve your lot?" 
 
 "Improve my lot !" she grasped the girl s arm. "Girl, 
 you don t know what even the lot of such as me is in 
 one of these places. I m the dog, the drudge, the the 
 my God, don t you drive them to torture you until 
 you ain t fit to go out of here. Promise Madame to 
 do anything she asks if she will only git you some swell 
 guy to take care of you. Lie to her ; make her believe 
 you have been on the turf. But stick to it that you 
 won t have nothing to do with the scum that comes to 
 this place it s the only way out." 
 
 Steps sounding in the hall, "Red" Kate made a sign 
 
A WHITE SLAVE PEN 133 
 
 of silence to the prisoner and busied herself about the 
 untidy room. A key turned in the lock and Pagan en 
 tered, looking first at the girl on the edge of the bed, 
 then at Kate as she stooped over a shabby rug. 
 
 "You can go, "Red;" if our visitor wants to clean 
 house it will be good exercise for her to look after the 
 room herself." Estella did not look up, even after Kate 
 had gone, and she knew Pagan stood regarding her. 
 
 "Well, Miss Moore, how are you this morning?" 
 At the question Estella gave a quick glance about, and 
 Pagan laughed. 
 
 "You don t seem to recognize your new name," she 
 bantered. 
 
 "My new name?" 
 
 "Yes, Miss Norma Moore; ain t it a stunner?" 
 
 "But it s not mine ; you know it s not mine," the girl 
 protested. 
 
 "I know it is yours, and advise you to forget that 
 you ever had any other. You will find it a pretty good 
 graft to have a good name, so you ought to thank me 
 instead of looking at me as though you were afraid I 
 might eat you." 
 
 "I m not afraid," Estella retorted, but her heart 
 thumped in panic as the woman grinned and came to 
 her. 
 
 "How are you feeling this morning?" Pagan next 
 asked, and was surprised at the answer. 
 
 "I m hungry as a wolf. If you will remember, I 
 haven t had a bite since I ate my lunch on the train- 
 yesterday." Narrowly she watched every line of her 
 jailer s face. Was she all bad? Was there nothing to 
 do but fight for time and hope that Kate might accom 
 plish her deliverance? If that were the only way out, 
 she must not quarrel with Mrs. Collins. There was 
 grave doubt on the keeper s part as well. What sort 
 of a girl was this? Young and innocent-looking, but 
 she didn t rave and pray as the others did. Would she 
 be the easier handled for that, or would it be another 
 case like that of the big blond they were some alike, 
 Pagan told herself as she turned at the door to say, 
 "I ll have something sent up, and hope you will forgive 
 me for not thinking of it last night." 
 
 On the floor below she found "Red" Kate. "Say, 
 
134 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 Red, what s the rip with the girl upstairs she hasn t 
 caved this soon, has she?" 
 
 Kate laughed. "Fooled you, didn t she? She ain t 
 got no cavin to do. Why, she s a sport, and a top- 
 notcher at that, or you may steam me." "Red" was 
 laying the wires for Estella s release, without the young 
 lady knowing aught of the matter, and it is quite likely 
 that she would have been forbidden to hint such a lie to 
 Pagan had Estella been consulted. 
 
 The girl in the room above sat down when Fagan 
 left her to face the greatest problem of her life. She 
 did not dare to die, even if means to that end were at 
 hand. A religious faith that doomed the suicide to suf 
 fer outside the gates of heaven through all eternity left 
 but one path open to her. She wondered if "Red" Kate 
 really knew just how hard that path would prove to be? 
 And what would happen should she refuse to wear her 
 new name and surrender her virtue ? Satisfied that there 
 was but one thing to choose, and that a life abhorrent, 
 she threw herself on the bed and buried her burning 
 face upon the tear-soaked pillow, and was still crying 
 out that the thing they asked of her was more than she 
 could give, even for life itself, when Kate brought her 
 breakfast. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A TRAGEDY AT MADAME S. 
 
 At Madame Vaughn s the night after Estella 
 Davis arrived at Pagan s a tragedy was enacted that 
 cost the life of one of her charming daughters, also 
 the life of a transient customer a visitor to the city. 
 
 But think not that the harmony drawn from taut 
 gut and wire under strain, and that happiness pro 
 jected in lewd jest and ragtime, in Madame s old red 
 brick mansion is to be hushed; or that this establish 
 ment is to be brought to book and made to give aa 
 accounting of its connection with -this tragedy, wherein 
 an erring brother chancing upon a long lost sister, took 
 into his own puny hands the instrument of vengeance, 
 plunging two lives, in a moment of insanity, into the 
 great beyond. 
 
 No, there is too much of power, too much of social 
 explosive, too much of intrigue, too much of profit, too 
 much of practical politics stored in the old red brick 
 mansion for the two dead bodies to be given into the 
 bands of the city s officers. 
 
 No sooner is the last shot fired, the last body fallen 
 to the velvet covered floor of Madame s parlor, than the 
 underground force that serves to bind crime and politics 
 was put to work. Telephones ring and ring again. Out 
 from dark and loathsome places in our great metropolis 
 men and women come trooping to do -the will of this en- 
 rtertainer of wealthy, representative citizens. The or 
 ders issued by Madame are that these bodies be re 
 moved. 
 
 In the gray light of the next morning the man s 
 body was found by working men on their way to toil, 
 half hidden by weeds upon a vacant lot. The "victim" 
 had been roughly used; clothes torn and pockets rifled 
 (the loot Madame s servants left upon the body paid 
 in part the cost of having him thrown there). The 
 
 135 
 
136 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 police were notified, but before their arrival a morbid 
 crowd had collected, and proceeded roundly to curse the 
 police and the hold-up men, as they pushed and craned, 
 and struggled to view the remains. 
 
 No mark of identification, no name; just another 
 stranger in a strange city murdered and robbed on the 
 highway. How that commonplace mob of average citi 
 zens of the common life would have shuddered could 
 they have divined the awful social tragedy written in 
 the death of this nameless one! 
 
 Far from the old red brick mansion that morning, 
 on a street given over to the lost among women, to 
 poverty and crime, festering crime, in a dilapidated 
 building displaying the sign "Furnished Rooms," in a 
 small back hallroom lay the body of a young and beau 
 tiful woman. She lay with her dark mass of hair hang 
 ing to the floor, her body half on, half off the bed. 
 Upon the floor lies her brother s revolver. The daily 
 press told that morning of a brutal murder on the 
 West Side, and in the next column of the News you 
 may read the story of a beautiful woman s suicide in 
 a cheap lodging house in the red-light district. 
 
 At all events, the woman who kept the house swore 
 the girl had been with her for more than a week. Swore 
 that she had kept to her room almost constantly. And 
 still swore she was positive there was no one with the 
 girl when she shot herself yes, she heard the shot fired, 
 but thought it was some of the boys practicing in the 
 basement. 
 
 One of the girls in the house swore she went out 
 with "Lib" the night before. That they had returned 
 together, and "Lib" (they gave her this name after 
 death, and it fitted as well as another) was feeling down 
 on her luck and talked about ending it all. That "Lib" 
 went up to her room about eleven o clock. No, she 
 didn t hear the shot, but she swore she believed the girl 
 
 had killed herself, as she had threatened to do. 
 
 ****** 
 
 To-day Madame Vaughn s daughters and nieces are 
 not quite so buoyant as is their wont, but business goes 
 on, laughter and song still cheer the merry gentlemen 
 who pay the score. Madame, too, is depressed, not that 
 she fears the crime will be traced to her doors, but rather 
 
A TRAGEDY AT MADAME^S 137 
 
 that the knowledge of the tragedy which will -find both 
 voice and ears among the inner circle of her retainers 
 is likely to affect business adversely for several days 
 to come. On still another count Madame mourns. Was 
 not this fresh young beauty, soon to rest in one of the 
 city s pauper lots, one of the sweetest baits she had 
 ever had to dangle before the greedy eyes of her clients ? 
 And surely, most surely, the loss of the profit this girl s 
 surrender brought to Madame s bank account is rea 
 son enough to account for Madame s rather sullen face 
 this morning. We find Madame seated at her writing 
 table in a boudoir filled to overcrowding with all the 
 comforts and luxuries modern labor, ingenuity and art 
 so abundantly produce by the aid of machinery, in this 
 age of machines and human things to run them. A boy 
 enters page to this queen in the kingdom of painted 
 Eves. 
 
 "Pagan s downstairs, and wants to see you/ he an 
 nounced. 
 
 "Pagan?" Madame looked up. "So Pagan wants 
 her pay for the part her people had in covering up the 
 tragedy rather hurriedly," Madame thought, but to the 
 boy she said, "Show her up. Wait; did she come in 
 by the front way?" 
 
 "What? Pagan?" the boy asked. The very suspi 
 cion that Pagan could be so indiscreet, and in broad 
 daylight at that, was resented by this world-wise youth. 
 "I should say not! She came up the alley. Pagan 
 wasn t born yesterday," he concluded, with a laugh. 
 
 Madame did not like the woman who in the hall be 
 low was waiting the return of the boy. Pagan is not 
 in Madame s class. The gulf between is measured not 
 so much by class distinction as by the wide difference 
 in the methods used by the two for the piling up of 
 profits. Madame holds herself the more respectable. 
 Madame may be a sinner, she admits as much ; but Pa 
 gan is impossible, unspeakable! She was still thinking 
 of this difference when a cheery voice sounded from the 
 doorway, and Pagan, superbly gowned and jeweled, 
 stood bowing her salutation. 
 
 "Come in, Pagan; I m delighted to see you, for I 
 can hand you the money to square your folks for han 
 dling that job the other night." 
 
138 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "Why," Pagan declared as she seated herself across 
 the table from her hostess, "do you know I never 
 thought of that what I came to -see you about is a girl 
 
 down at my street place. I have no usfe for her 
 
 down there, and I thought since Myrt well, since the 
 trouble you had here the night before last if you could 
 get a girl to take her place, one who is in every way 
 as good, better, in fact, better figure, better eyes, better 
 mettle, a topnotcher, I thought you d be glad of the 
 chance." 
 
 Madame was surprised that Fagan should have the 
 nerve to offer her, the great Madame Vaughn, a girl 
 from such a place, and showed it. 
 
 "Why, Fagan !" she exclaimed, "whatever put it into 
 your head that I could possibly use one of your girls?" 
 
 "She isn t one of my kind, Isabella. That s why I 
 knew you d want her. She s different." 
 
 "Where did you pick her up ?" Madame inquired. 
 
 "In the country oh, she s not an unformed, gawky, 
 gander-legged thing," the visitor added hastily; "she s 
 the best ever, and in the duds you d put on her she d 
 be worth at least two hundred dollars clean money per 
 month to you." 
 
 "And suppose I took this country paragon off your 
 hands, how much would it set me back as an invest 
 ment?" 
 
 "We won t talk about that now; you come and see 
 the girl you won t be hard to deal with after that." 
 
 "Honest, Fagan," Madame answered, "I don t like 
 to go down there." 
 
 "Suit yourself, Isabelle; I remember the time when 
 you wasn t so damned partic " 
 
 "Cut it, Fagan. We don t need to quarrel," Madame 
 interposed softly. "Suppose I come down in a closed 
 carriage to-morrow at three; will that suit you?" 
 
 "Anything to please you," Fagan replied. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Closeted behind the close-locked doors of Fagan s 
 upper world, Madame Vaughn sat in consultation with 
 the mistress of the place at the time appointed. 
 
 "You are too superstitious, Fagan. To hear you 
 talk, one would think you had seen a combination of 
 black cat and hen to-day; and your suspicions about the 
 
A TRAGEDY AT MADAME^S 139 
 
 girl are all wrong. S he will never care enough about 
 you to make an attempt to see this place again, and if 
 she did see it, it s so much like a thousand others that 
 unless she took the number she couldn t swear to it. 
 Suppose she did; she doesn t know anything else, does 
 she?" 
 
 "No, she don t, and what s more, I don t propose 
 that she shall. She is going out of here asleep, and you 
 may have the pleasure of her surprise when she wakes 
 up at your place. It won t hurt her a bit," Fagan pro 
 tested, as Madame seemed to object ; "just a few knock 
 out drops in a cup of tea about bedtime, then they can 
 handle her, and she ll never know where she was be 
 fore you got her." 
 
 "All right, but don t hurt her; she s costing me too 
 much," the Madame urged, as she took a well-filled wal 
 let from the handbag. "Two hundred for the girl, and 
 one-fifty for that work the other night." She held the 
 bills in her hand, while Fagan with outstretched arm 
 and wiggling fingers waited. Madame looked squarely 
 at Fagan and said: "You re pulling my leg in great 
 shape." 
 
 "Oh, cheese it, Vaughn," the speaker s arm was 
 stretched to the limit, "pulling nothing. Why, if I had 
 a swell joint like yours, and a couple of panels on the 
 side, I d say nothing about the extracting of a little wad 
 like that hurting give me the coin." 
 
 Madame counted the money into her hostess hand 
 without further comment until Fagan said, "Gee, I d like 
 to have your roll." 
 
 "You ought to know by this time that the politicians 
 and police take three-fourths of all we get," Madame 
 protested hotly, "and damn em, I d like to blow em 
 sky high." 
 
 Madame has claws, and on occasion can use them as 
 well as her tongue. As she spoke her beautiful fea 
 tures lost for the moment their last pleasant curve and 
 her eyes shone like points of light as she cursed the 
 guardians of our public morals for their robbery of her 
 treasure. Some day she hopes to repay with interest all 
 the insults and petty persecutions she has suffered. And 
 as each day adds to her store of remembrances, and 
 each day also brings its cross of smiles and wiles with 
 
140 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 which to meet those who take the lion s share of her 
 spoils, this beautiful-faced queen of the under world 
 is being shaped into an instrument of vengeance for use 
 upon those who have made of her a plaything for their 
 pleasure and profit. This woman is dangerous, all up 
 right people declare. She is. Could those who take a 
 salary from society and a profit from vice look into her 
 eyes as she curses them and their greed, they, too, would 
 declare her dangerous, and draw but little comfort from 
 their next dividend from the under world. Some day 
 the Madame may refuse to pay for protection what 
 then? Some day a moral spasm may strike us and last 
 more than a month. Madame s old red brick mansion 
 and the panel houses may be raided, for good and all. 
 Madame in court is almost as dangerous to some of our 
 pillars of society as the panel houses are to young farm 
 ers, older farmers and visiting merchants, and others 
 who seek the by-paths of life when at a safe distance 
 from their loving families. 
 
 Pagan s face was a study as Madame railed against 
 those who robbed her. Craft and cunning marked Fa- 
 gan s every step through the maze in which such busi 
 ness as hers must be transacted. 
 
 "Don t do nothing rash, Isabelle. Our time will come. 
 You don t need to think I have been facing the pen 
 or worse these five years without having something up 
 my sleeve for the goo-goos if it comes to a showdown, 
 so you go ahead and blow them up when you get every 
 thing fixed and rest easy about my being in on it. 
 I ve got the goods on enough of them, and got it down 
 in black and white, to turn this town wrong side out. 
 And I ll say again, as I have many a time before, I d 
 enjoy a trip down the canal if I could only know that 
 some of the men I ve had to put up to were going along. 
 Say, Isabelle, if just you and I could get into all the 
 papers tomorrow morning and tell the good folks what 
 we know about things in this town, wouldn t there be 
 a bomb dropped into high life that would put the an 
 archists and gamblers a thousand years in the past?" 
 
 The Madame laughed and the beauty curves came out 
 upon her pretty face until she looked as good as a saint 
 at prayer. The smile faded as she looked at Pagan. 
 "Don t look at me that way, your face would frighten the 
 
A TRAGEDY AT MADAMES 14! 
 
 devil himself," she reached across the table and tapped 
 Pagan on the arm, "some day you ll be driven a little 
 farther than usual, and you won t wake up till that bomb 
 of yours has exploded. No, Fagan," she went on ser 
 iously, "there s nothing for us but to play the game. 
 We play the game, do the drudgery, take all -the abuse, 
 and in the end go to hell; others hold all the marked 
 cards, have all the pleasure, take all the profit, and the 
 preachers tell them they are going straight to heaven." 
 M adame Vaughn arose to go. "Cheer up, Fagan," 
 she said in parting, "forget the bomb, be as good to 
 the girls as you can, and take it all out on the men. Take 
 the last cent they have and half their clothes; they de 
 serve it. Of course," she added, "they get the swag 
 away from us somehow, but we have this satisfaction, 
 they are all men, the one half of them we rob, the other 
 half rob us, the first are fools and the last are thieves 
 some day we may need that bomb, but not soon. Have 
 the girl sent up on time, and don t you dope her too 
 heavy." 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 "THEY S ONLY ONE WAY. * 
 
 The door of Estella s room opened and "Red" Kate 
 entered. Setting a tray of victuals on the little table 
 she turned to the occupant of the room : 
 
 "There you are, my beauty, and it s a better breakfast 
 than any of us has had in mondis, and by Madame s 
 orders at that." 
 
 The girl lifted her face from the pillow, her eyes 
 red and swollen from weeping. For a moment Kate 
 looked at her in silence, while something of terror grew 
 in her own eyes. "Girl, girl," she cried, "if you don t 
 want to have me murdered, if you want me to help you, 
 you jist got to quit that blubbering. Why, if Fa Mrs. 
 Collins was to come in and see you in that fix after the 
 con talk I ve give her, she d have our lives. An if she 
 didn t kill me she d at least give you the same dose 
 some of the others git. She would, by God, she would !" 
 
 The frightened girl promised to dry her tears and be 
 good, promised to do anything Kate directed if the lat 
 ter would only say fhat there was no other way out of 
 slavery. 
 
 When she was quieted Kate admonished her to be 
 careful not to even talk above an ordinary tone, say 
 ing: "If some one was to hear you, they d tell her 
 and I d never see you again until they d given you the 
 cure/ Now don t say a word," as Estella started to 
 interrupt. "You sit down in that chair and let me put 
 you next to the way Fagtan there, it s out. But don t 
 you ever breathe that name until you hear some one 
 else use it. Pagan s her name, and all the other names 
 like Mrs. Collins is only used to fool the folks that 
 might look for the girls fhey rope in. Don t you ever 
 squeal on me, or they d kill me." 
 
 "I won t, Kate, I promise that whatever they may 
 do to me I won t tell them anything you say to me, 
 
 142 
 
THEY S ONLY ONE WAY 143 
 
 Bu t won t you tell me just what that awful woman has 
 done to other girls ? Then I will know the worst, and 
 and " 
 
 "There, there, girl, don t go off into no more cryin 
 spells again, or our jig s up. It isn t so bad, and it 
 won t be bad at all if you ll only do as I want you to ; 
 and who knows, when you have friends and lots of 
 money maybe you might help me to git away, too." 
 
 "Oh, I will! I will! God knows I will!" the girl 
 protested. 
 
 Kate smiled, and into her heart there crept a long 
 ing she had thought dead years before she met Estella 
 Davis. With a sigh she resumed the conversation. 
 
 "I best hurry and tell you about this crib, then, 
 an how I am in hopes of getting you out." Then, 
 thinking of the untasted breakfast on the tray, she add 
 ed hastily. "But first you eat your breakfast I d most 
 forgot that. Then I ll come up -t* git the things and 
 put you wise." 
 
 "I would rather talk to you than to eat," Estella in 
 sisted. 
 
 "But I can t stay long at a time; they s spies on 
 every floor; you eat now, and when I come back I ll 
 tell you in a jiffy." 
 
 As Estella ate a light breakfast, s he told herself 
 that the stolid-faced, red-headed drudge was honest in 
 her friendship and offer of help, and if it was as Kate 
 had said, a case of choosing not her own way but a path 
 that promised freedom in the end well, she would 
 listen to the argument. For one thing she was done 
 with crying. She would show even "Red" Kate that 
 there was something of courage in her make-up. 
 
 When Kate returned she closed the door and locked 
 it, saying: "Now, Miss, Pagan s gone, but she may 
 be back any minute, so I ve got to hump myself and 
 put you next. This joint is said to be one of the worst 
 in town, anyway the men that comes here says it s the 
 limit. Fagan runs three or four places, but this one is 
 the only place where they bring young girls, and they 
 come regular you know how they git them, I don t. 
 
 "You re the first one in two years that hasn t jist 
 literally raised all kinds of hell I beg your pardon 
 but they sure did. They screamed, tore their hair, 
 
144 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 wouldn t eat, and then mostly went into the sulks. 
 First off they wouldn t eat, and done a lot of prayin . 
 Some of them killed their " the narrator hesitated. 
 
 "Killed themselves here! Here in this room?" Es- 
 tella s shuddering and nervous look around, alarmed 
 Kate. 
 
 "Land sakes, girl, you haven t got nothing to be 
 afraid of," she declared stoutly, "if them poor little 
 critters ever does come back, as some says, it won t 
 be to this hell-hole and besides, they didn t kill their- 
 selves in here no way." 
 
 "How many, Kate, and where did they do it?" Es- 
 tella clung to Kate s arm, wild-eyed with horror of it all. 
 
 "Three." 
 
 "Three, Kate?" 
 
 "Yes, three killed theirselves where we used to keep 
 em, since I come here two years ago. And one big 
 blonde girl, after Fagan thought she had give in, kill 
 ed a man Fagan sent to her. No, it wasn t on this 
 floor, you don t need to look around like that. It was 
 on the floor below. You see the girl had gone all the 
 stages from prayin to fighting, until after she s been 
 well starved, then she told Fagan she d put on the dress 
 and go down, and at that she laughed and said she 
 wanted a good dinner first. She got the dinner, and 
 I give her a barh and fixed her out in the regulation 
 togs and sent her down. I remember jist as well as 
 if it was yesterday. Fagan stood at the foot of the 
 stairs waitin for her, a smiling as hard as she could, 
 for the girl was a good looker and Fagan thought she 
 was going to make a good bunch of money off her. 
 The girl went up and throwed her arms around Fagan 
 and kissed her and asked where the bridegroom was. 
 Fagan says something low to her, lookin mighty queer 
 out of her eyes, and sent the girl into the back parlor. 
 Then Fagan went to the front parlor where this man 
 was. He came out and she pointed out the back parlor 
 door. He was a good lookin chap I thought he looked 
 as if he d strayed in from the farm. He went down 
 the hall, me watching from the head of the stairs. He 
 stopped jist a minute, then opened the door and went 
 in." Kate shuddered. 
 
 "And then " 
 
THEY S ONLY ONE WAY 145 
 
 And then I heard such a scream, and three blows, 
 thud, thud, thud, and a moan. I don t know how I got 
 downstairs, but I was down and right behind Fagan 
 when she ran into the room. Then, before you could 
 think, that crazy girl struck Fagan on the head with the 
 bronze figure she had killed the man with, an* Fagan 
 fell in a heap. The girl jumped back and thro wed that 
 thing all covered with blood at us w*ho stood trembling 
 in the door, and laughed fit to kill. The next minute 
 she was on her knees stroking the man s hair, and say 
 ing all kinds of things to him. Just then Gus, that s 
 the bartender, come up and taking her by the arm he 
 lifts her up and tells her there s a lady and gentleman 
 to see her, waiting in a carriage at the door, and asks 
 won t she let him escort her down she got up laughing 
 and clapping her hands I ain t seen her since." 
 
 "And the man, was he dead ?" 
 
 "Yes, they made me wash the blood up while he 
 was laying there I know he was dead they took him 
 away in the night, like they does all the rest. And 
 Fagan, her hair saved her; but lord, she had a splittin 
 headache for days after they brought her out of it. 
 
 "Oh, this horrible, horrible house !" The girl walk 
 ed the length of the room wringing her hands and mur 
 muring a prayer for the green fields of home, now 
 seemingly in another world. "Oh, Kate! how -can I 
 get away from it? How can I?" she cried. 
 
 "There s only one way," came the answer. 
 
CHAPTER XXL 
 
 NORMA JORDAN. 
 
 The morning after Madame Vaughn s visit to Pa 
 gan s street place, when she had examined Estella 
 
 as closely as the average slave trader was wont to ex 
 amine his purchase of black humanity, Estella awoke 
 in a strange new world. 
 
 The bright flood of sunlight that a girl in spotless 
 cap and apron let in through the great east window 
 blinded her for a moment. Where was she ? What had 
 happened? Could it be a dream, this beautiful room. 
 Never in all her castles in Spain had there been just 
 such a room it could not be a dream. She let her eyes 
 wander over the walls hung with beautiful pictures, to 
 the splendid rug upon the floor, then to the great win 
 dow again, then up to the penciled ceiling and back to 
 the bed. Burying her face in the downy softness of the 
 snowy pillow she lay for a time trying to connect this 
 morning with the past. How had she been delivered 
 from the house of horrors and that awful woman. Peep 
 ing out she sought the figure of the girl to assure her 
 self that it was all real. Compared to that loathsome 
 place where she had slept only when weariness of mind 
 and body had overcome her repugnance for the un 
 clean bed upon which she must lie or choose a more 
 filthy floor, this was heaven. But was she alive? Sit 
 ting up quickly she discovered that the nightgown she 
 wore was in itself a treasure, loaded with real lace and 
 ribbons, but cut so low that she blushed and drew it 
 more closely about her shapely shoulders as she caught 
 the eyes of the maid upon her. 
 
 "Where am I" she asked. 
 
 "In your own room, Miss Jordan, and Madame 
 Vaughn asked me to tell her the moment you awoke, so 
 if you will excuse me " the girl was gone. 
 
 "Miss Jordan; I wonder what she meant. What in 
 146 
 
NORMA JORDAN 147 
 
 the world could have happened to twist her face up in 
 that way? She looks like a fright, but her voice is 
 sweet, and her smiles break through. I do wonder what 
 can have happened to her." Lying back among fhe 
 pillows, her hands clasped behind her head, Estella .gave 
 herself up to the puzzle of it all. "How did they bring 
 me here, and when?" she asked of the great brass bed. 
 "Was if yesterday, or the day before? Let me see, I 
 went to Pagan s room the night Madame Vaughn was 
 there, they sent me away with Kate, then after Madame 
 had left Pagan called me and gave me a cup of tea and 
 yes, they must have drugged me. I remember just as 
 well, Kate whispered to me as she helped me undress, 
 good-by, don t forget me/ and I felt so queer." 
 
 "Good morning, Miss Jordan, I hope you enjoyed 
 your night s rest?" Madame stood in the doorway, 
 playfully shaking a finger at the wondering girl. "You 
 lazy girl," she scolded and smiled as she entered the 
 room, "it s almost noon and you haven t gotten the 
 sleep out of your pretty eyes." 
 
 Estella looked at the woman wonderingly. Could it 
 be possible that this smiling lady, clad in the very neatest 
 of house gowns, looking at her as her own -mother used 
 to, and in this beautiful room could it be possible that 
 she was bad? A blus h answered her thought. 
 
 "Do you like your room, Miss Jordan?" 
 
 The girl s eyes had a frightened look in them as she 
 asked : "What did you call -me ?" 
 
 "Oh, just a pet name I have found for you while you 
 stay with me Norma Jordan don t you think it s a 
 nice name ?" Madame sat on the edge of the bed. 
 
 "Am I not to have my own name?" 
 
 "Child, you couldn t have your own name, don t you 
 understand? Some day you may want your name again 
 and the only way to keep it is to forget it now." 
 
 Estella played with the lace upon her sleeves while 
 she sat thinking of the part Kate had assigned her, and 
 the woman looking at her guessed half the truth, but 
 withal was satisfied with her bargain. 
 
 "Why did Pagan I mean Mrs. Collins drug me?" 
 was her first question, once she had determined upon her 
 attitude toward her new keeper. 
 
148 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "Where did you get that name?" Madame asked 
 sharply. 
 
 "Oh, I wasn t always crying at Mrs. at Pagan s," she 
 replied, "you see there were lots of things to be heard 
 after I got downstairs," with a wry little mouth that 
 ended in an attempted smile, she looked into Madame s 
 eyes, saying: "Suppose I do know her, what does it 
 matter so long as I am Norma Norma what was it?" 
 
 "Norma Jordan." 
 
 "Oh, yes ; it is a pretty name, and now that I am here 
 in this beautiful room, I suppose I ought to thank both 
 you and Fagan for having brought me here without my 
 being put to the inconvenience of doing more than to 
 drink a cup of tea for all the world like the Arabian 
 Nights tales, is it not?" 
 
 Madame laughed, but did not reply to the question. 
 
 "If my new boarder is to have breakfast today it is 
 time she were up; and besides, I have some gowns in 
 the closet over there, which I had thought to loan you 
 until you can take money enough out of your stocking 
 to buy a new " 
 
 "What do you " Estella almost added, "mean by 
 money out of my stocking?" but checked herself, and 
 after a painful pause asked: "Didn t they send my 
 clothes and money? Fagan promised me she would 
 give all my things back." 
 
 "Not on your life!" the Madame exclaimed, and 
 went on : "While we are on that subject I might just as 
 well tell you that we have to protect ourselves, and for 
 that reason you will probably never see a stitch of the 
 clothes or anything else you brought to the city with you, 
 but you need not worry," she added kindly, "you won t 
 want for anything as long as you board with me." 
 
 "Thanks," the new Miss Jordan murmured in a low 
 voice, "I believe I will get up now." 
 
 "Very well," Madame went to the doorway and 
 called the maid, saying to the new boarder, "the girl will 
 help you dress, and you will find all you need in the 
 wardrobe in that closet, if they need altering the girl can 
 do that too. Tomorrow will be time enough for us to 
 talk business ; good morning." 
 
 The owner of a new name sat on the edge of the bed 
 seriously regarding the ends of her pink toes, and repeat- 
 
NORMA JORDAN 149 
 
 ing over and over : "Tomorrow we will talk business, 
 tomorrow we will talk business," when a timid knock 
 sounded through the room and brought her back to the 
 present moment and its immediate problems. 
 
 "Come in," she invited the invisible one, as in fas 
 cination she centered her gaze upon the opening door. 
 Would it be that strange girl ? Yes, it was she. Norma 
 Jordan s eyes dropped under the eager look of the girl. 
 
 Future perils could not entirely destroy the pleasure 
 Norma Jordan found in trying on the gowns the maid 
 brought from the wardrobe, once breakfast had been dis 
 posed of. The maid was an artist and seemed to lose 
 herself and all memory of the past as she fitted Norma 
 out with all the good things that had been allotted to her. 
 
 "Myrt s clothes seem to have been made for you," 
 she told Norma while they were working on a beauti 
 ful evening gown, preparatory to Norma s trying it on. 
 
 "And who s Myrt?" 
 
 The girl looked at Norma long and earnestly, won 
 dering if she dared tell the new boarder the truth. Her 
 scrutiny convinced her that it would be dangerous. The 
 girl before her might be a hardened sinner, but if stie 
 was, her face, her modesty, her every movement, pro 
 claimed the very opposite. 
 
 "Who is Myrt ?" the question was repeated. 
 
 "Oh," the maid answered, "she was one of us up to 
 up to a week ago, then she went away with her brother 
 and and left left these clothes and things for for 
 oh, my God ! my God !" Sobbing as though her heart 
 would break, she fell at Norma s feet. 
 
 "What is it, May," on her knees beside the weeping 
 girl Norma begged her to tell what sorrow was upon 
 her. "Tell me," she pleaded, "I have grown old enough 
 in one week to be trusted, tell me." Her pleading availed 
 not until the storm had spent itself, then May told her 
 as much of the truth as she dared. 
 
 "It was just as I said, Norma ; she went away. Her 
 brother came and she went with him. I am a fool, 
 Norma ; and fools havo no place in this world, much less 
 in such a place as this. But she was so good to me, so 
 good and brave, and suffered so. She was here a year, 
 and in all that time she never uttered a cross word and 
 Norma, I ve never been in this room since she went 
 
I5O MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 away until they brought you here." She looked about 
 her, unspeakable terror in her eyes. "Don t tell them 
 I said anything about her please don t I ll do anything 
 for you if you will promise." 
 
 "Promise, why, you goose, of course I ll promise. 
 What does it matter?" she laughed, and the hard notes 
 that come only from the lips of those who have given 
 over the struggle, sounded for the first time from her 
 sweet lips. "It s all mystery and intrigue," she went on, 
 "and I am in the web. I ve sold myself for the right 
 to live, to eat, to breathe why should I either pry into 
 things the knowing of which would not help me, or with 
 hold a promise that will help you? No, May, you and I 
 are to be the very best of friends let me make up to 
 you for the loss of Myrt." She caught the girl in her 
 strong young arms and kissed her disfigured lips. "There, 
 and there," she exclaimed with each kiss, "now dry your 
 eyes, and I will get into this beautiful gown; it must 
 have cost hundreds and hundreds of dollars." 
 
 The girl released, staggered to a seat by the great 
 east window, and laying her head against the back of 
 the chair, sobbed in utter abandon to the heartbreak that 
 gripped her. 
 
 Madame Vaughn, entering, caught sight of the sob 
 bing girl and turned quickly to Norma, who was stand 
 ing in the center of the room, the evening gown in her 
 trembling hands. The red of anger mounted to Madame s 
 painted cheeks as this question thrust itself upon her : 
 "What had the girl told Norma?" Madame knew May s 
 love for the murdered girl. 
 
 "What does this mean?" she demanded, striding 
 toward the girl, who, at the sound of her voice, had 
 vainly tried to subdue her emotions. 
 
 For a moment Norma was at a loss how to save her 
 maid from Madame s anger. Madame had reached the 
 huddled figure, her hand outstretched. 
 
 "Let her alone," Norma s lips again gave forth that 
 metallic note of laughter. As the Madame turned to her, 
 she explained: "It s my fault she s crying I scolded 
 her because she was awkward with my clothes." De 
 liberately walking to the chair, she shook the sobbing 
 girl saying: "Come, you little goose, you ve cried quite 
 enough over nothing, now help me into this gown." 
 
NORM A JORDAN 15! 
 
 The Madame, smiling, turned to leave the room, when 
 Norm-a called to her from within the folds of the gown, 
 "Wait a minute, Madame Vaughn, I want you to see me 
 in this gown." 
 
 "A perfect picture!" Madame exclaimed, as Norma 
 stood before her in all the bravery of Myrt s dress. 
 "You ll have no one but yourself to blame," she added, 
 "if you don t have a wad as big as my arm inside of a 
 year," Norma blushed and looked away, "and that 
 blush," Madame declared, "is worth a million. I never 
 had but one girl here who could blush like that, and do 
 it to order; she s in Paris now in a mansion, with I 
 don t know how many servants, and only one old mil 
 lionaire to please, unless," she added, laughing, "she 
 wants to please herself." 
 
 Madame patted the blushing Norma on the cheek, 
 and whispered : "You will have my other boarders 
 crazy with jealousy, Norma and if there is anything 
 they have that you want, just look at it; you won t have 
 to whistle to it, or even crook your finger." Then, with 
 out so much as a look in the direction of May, she quitted 
 the room. 
 
 "You are an angel, Norma ! an angel !" the maid in 
 sisted as soon as Madame was out of the room. "Yes 
 you are," she affirmed as Norma denied the insinuation. 
 May stood looking into the brown eyes of her mistress, 
 her poor disfigured face working strangely. "You are 
 an angel," she insisted, "you kissed me, and lied to save 
 me from Madame s anger and she can be so cruel," she 
 added with a shudder. 
 
 Norma looked at the girl, yet did not see her. Won 
 dering what tragedy lay behind that face ; what poverty 
 of love she must have suffered in her life to prize so 
 highly a girl s kiss. Dare she ask? No. Not now at 
 any rate. She would not burden the sore-hearted girl 
 with a single question, instead she took her in her arms 
 again and kissed her, while their tears mingled and each 
 knew without words the heart of the other. 
 
 When May had left the room and gone about the 
 work she had neglected while preparing this new sacri 
 fice for the altar of lust, her heart was rent with con 
 flictshe, the drudge at Madame Vaughn s, as "Red" 
 Kate was at Pagan s, had found a friend, and she be- 
 
152 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 lieved that friend as pure and sweet as the dew new fal 
 len upon the rose. Her heart bled for the girl in that 
 beautiful room upstairs "bled for her, but to what avail ? 
 What power had she to reach up with her prayers to 
 either man-made gods, or God-made men? 
 
 In her luxurious room Norma Jordan surveyed her 
 self in the mirror. "So you are Norma Jordan are you? 
 she asked the girl in the glass. "Not long ago you were 
 some other body." Slowly, as she looked at the beau 
 tiful gown, terror crept upon her. Turning from the mir 
 ror, she fled to the bed ; there upon her knees she sobbed 
 out a prayer for help. 
 
 In her hour of agony, the very clothing upon her 
 body, the vain trappings she had fondled but a little 
 time before, became hateful to her. Wildly she ran about 
 the gilded cage. Searching in every Corner of the ward 
 robe, bath, and the great room itself, the girl sought 
 something with which to clothe herself aside from the 
 things Madame had provided, the shimmering, clinging 
 garments of dishonor. Even the clothes she had worn 
 when taken from Pagan s had been removed and she was 
 left with nothing other than the wardrobe furnished by 
 tihe house. Heartsick with the sense of her shame, her 
 helplessness, she cried out that God would forgive her 
 if she refused to live. 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 MADAME TALKS BUSINESS. 
 
 Madame went up to talk "business" to her new 
 boarder. Norma was low spirited, but she determined 
 that her bravery, to the last shred, should serve her 
 where tears were in vain. Madame had talked long be 
 fore she had come to the meat of her visit. 
 
 "One of our best young men (how she lingered over 
 the title) called me over the phone this morning from his 
 club, and wanted to know whether we could entertain 
 him tonight. He s of good family and a great spender. 
 I am going to give him to you. You don t need to be 
 afraid to ask him for anything you want if you please 
 him, and I don t see how you can help doing that he ll 
 go the limit." Her eyes devoured the beauty of the girl 
 before her greedily. Here was promise of much gain 
 that superb body, those great brown eyes, that sweet 
 warm skin with its new bloom of womanhood. Madame 
 would put no heavy task upon this fresh young beauty. 
 If she but pleased this millionaire s son there would be 
 enough of gain. While Madame feasted upon antici 
 pated profits, the girl s thoughts centered in this young 
 man of good family. Could she play her part until they 
 were alone, then throw herself on his mercy, and in the 
 name of womanhood and innocence, induce him to give 
 her back to her people. It is the only way, the only way, 
 her conscience told her, while her lips formed the words : 
 "Is he really of good family?" 
 
 "The best ever, swell people, and only two children ; 
 this young man and a sister." 
 
 So he had a sister; that was well; s he would have 
 another hold upon him ; a strong hold upon his manhood. 
 "When is he coming ?" Norma questioned, her heart beats 
 almost choking her. 
 
 "Tonight at 9 o clock. You will meet him in the 
 parlor w hat follows is in your own hands." Norma 
 
 153 
 
154 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 offered up a prayer that this might be true. "I ll send 
 May up for you when he comes/ Madame announced 
 from the door as she departed. 
 
 Norma Jordan stood at the great east window while 
 the sun built fires in a thousand windows in the east. 
 Her heart sobbed but tears did not come to dim the 
 strange luster of her eyes, as she prayed for strength to 
 overcome this man. Could s he have know how every 
 weapon she held would but add zest to the oncoming 
 enemy s struggle to possess her, she would have fallen 
 there as the sun went down into the great west. 
 
 Laughter and song are at their height in the parlors 
 of the old red brick mansion as the son of a good fam 
 ily is ushered in. 
 
 Before he came there were three men in faultless 
 dress enjoying the society of Madame s daughters in the 
 parlors. I shall give you an introduction. 
 
 Here, a man of forty, showing bald upon the crown, 
 holds a painted beauty upon his knee and kisses her 
 while trying to mimic the antics of the young who are 
 fast held by chains they do not care to break, in the 
 lurid land of puppy love. The woman older than her 
 girlish garb and labored over cheeks by full ten years, 
 feeds this esteemed father s infatuation by every trick 
 learned in the seduction of real youth and wins. 
 
 Upon a great, fat davenport in that arched corner, 
 a mere boy sits, half hidden by the voluptuous being who 
 has set herself the task of sucking the youth and sweet 
 ness out of his life. 
 
 This youth has not passed his eighteenth birthday; 
 his fond parents imagine he is at the Eagle Club, ming 
 ling with our men of affairs, and there imbibing a lik 
 ing for the steady grind of business life from the men of 
 means whose names grace the register of the Eagle. In 
 stead, he has learned to drain his glass with a toper for 
 a running mate; to take a quiet hand with card sharp 
 as guide, to play the ponies under advice from a well 
 groomed piker; to look upon woman as fair game, with 
 an instructor at his elbow who gains half his income from 
 those who profit from the downfall of our gilded youth. 
 
 Here is a sample product of the Eagle. This boy, 
 born to the purple of wealth, with all the world may 
 give of opportunity, is to be robbed tonight of the one 
 
MADAME TALKS BUSINESS 155 
 
 thing neither wealth nor prayer may restore to him; 
 and all because the woman was first robbed. What dif 
 ference whether you looted her treasure of its priceless 
 jewels yesterday, last year, or years ago? She will re 
 pay society to-night you shall have a stench of filth, 
 decay, disease, and death so long as the first crime com 
 mitted against this woman goes unavenged. 
 
 In her room but a moment ago this piece of Eve s 
 flesh, standing before her dressing-table, laying on the 
 bloom of youth to hide the scars of dissipation, turned 
 to the girl who sat idly watching her. 
 
 "Aggie," said she, "Little Willie is here again 
 Madame just sent word before you came in." Her pout 
 ing lips drew back from the even white teeth in a snarl, 
 as she continued : "I ll get him to-night or " 
 
 "Better turn him over to me, Helen," the other ban 
 tered, "I never had to work my rabbit foot overtime 
 on a kid yet, and you ve been a month trying to get 
 your Little Willie upstairs." 
 
 "Don t you worry; he comes to-night if I have to 
 carry him !" the other replied. 
 
 Well, he s a payer all right, all right," the visitor 
 giggled. "When he slipped that fifty into your sock 
 the other night I thought I d have a spasm he blushed 
 and stammered like a school kid. Say, either he s the 
 limit or you ve lost your grip. You ve had him a month 
 and haven t been able to cure him of blushing." 
 
 "Cut all that, Ag. I land him to-night, I tell you ! I 
 haven t lost my grip. I could have had him up here 
 the first night if Madame hadn t cautioned me to go 
 slow and draw him on gradually. When you know as 
 much about this game as Madame does, you will not 
 judge the stakes until the last hand is played out. When 
 this kid came out here the first time he was straight 
 from his mother s arms; never had done more than put 
 his arms around some nice little girl and tickle him 
 self to death with a hug." Aggie laughed, and this in 
 structor of youth smiled at her own wit. "Jiggs sent 
 word to Madame that he had landed this kid that he 
 was good enough to eat, and for us to cut out all horse 
 play until we got him good and hungry." 
 
 "Think he s hungry to-night?" Aggie asked. 
 
 "Bet your last coin. What have I been doing for a 
 
156 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 month? Just as nice, and getting a little bit freer each 
 time and money! Say, that kid William of mine don t 
 know the value of a million dollars! He s put up close 
 to three hundred bucks in the last month just to be 
 tickled." 
 
 Her toilet finished, all that art and nature might do 
 to take away man s reason and leave him a doddering 
 idiot in the grasp of this wanton of the under world 
 had been accomplished. 
 
 "For God s sake let up," Aggie shrieked, "you make 
 me tired and Little Willie will be crying his eyes out. 
 Go on down and get busy." 
 
 The woman before the mirror knew the rest of 
 Madame s daughters and nieces envied her. None of 
 them dared challenge girlhood in their acting. She 
 alone of the six was a perfect decoy, when made up, 
 and she gloried in her ability to put on the vestments 
 of youth and lead the young into the debauchery from 
 which Madame so largely profited. 
 
 "You clear out. I may have him up here to look at 
 my photographs and fancy work in ten minutes," a 
 sneer upon her lips exposed again that pearly setting of 
 even, white teeth, "and his mother and all the rest of 
 them will never be able to take him away from me un 
 til I am done with him " 
 
 "Until Madame is done with him," the other 
 laughed. 
 
 Upon the fat davenport a youth has let go of him 
 self, and in a sudden outburst of passion, well fed for 
 a month, has smothered this perfumed counterfeit with 
 kisses and caresses. She hides her face on his bosom 
 and smiles in triumph, while he, poor fool, imagines her 
 weeping imagines himself a conqueror. Her white arms 
 encircle his neck ; she lifts her face a little she dare not 
 trust her eyes, the gleam of hell s total of rejoicing she 
 may not hide she whispers to him her head falls back 
 to its resting place a moment, and they are gone. 
 
 Hidden by a costly screen on the other side of this 
 wide parlor, once the gathering place of men and women 
 who in ignorance sowed the seed of corruption in our 
 social state, a woman sits at the piano. At her side 
 
MADAME TALKS BUSINESS 157 
 
 stands a paunchy little man, under whose eyes the sacs 
 of decay bag out and hang over full cheeks. 
 
 This man holds a place in the world of business; 
 supports two mansions, one woman, a wife ?.nd family, 
 yet finds time to spend a night at Madame \ aughn s oc 
 casionally. Even the cub reporters on our dailies know 
 the unsavory history of tfhis podgy little sac-eyed gen 
 tleman. To expose him, and bring about his ears the 
 house of cards he has builded what a scoop! Then 
 what prevents? 
 
 The great hall clock ticks out the reason in its "dol 
 lars and cents/ "dollars and cents," "dollars and cents." 
 
 This man s son, one of the young princes of our rot 
 ting aristocracy of, dollars, was shot in a resort, the 
 counterpart of Madame s old red brick mansion, but a 
 few months ago. The newspapers of our city knew 
 the story knew that this young man, wounded fatally, 
 was wrapped in a blanket, carried to a cab and taken to 
 the place the world knew as his home. Wife and child 
 saw him die ; a truthful press agent of virtue defend 
 er of the American home suppressed the truth, giving 
 the world a story of accidental shooting, a story so ab 
 surd that even the ignorant complained of its unreason 
 ableness. Why? Why? Why? You ask and ask 
 again, and again the hall clock answers: "Dollars and 
 cents," "dollars and cents," "dollars and cents." 
 
 The woman idly drumming upon the ivory keys 
 while this podgy citizen devours her with his sac-bal 
 conied eyes, deserves a word. 
 
 Of regal height and well preserved, to look upon her 
 without looking deep into her eyes is to miss -the wom 
 an and see but the shell. In her eyes of changing gray 
 a tragedy is written, and back, back behind the curtain 
 present thought lets down, her tragedy lives and feeds, 
 and grows and rends. Just now she has lifted the cur 
 tain ; forgetful of the man her mind is going back over 
 the years of sacrifice back to the sunny brooks of girl 
 hood, then forward again to that first mad day strug 
 gle, temptation, yielding; pride, passion, repentance; all 
 passing and repassing before the eyes of the woman idly 
 drumming on the ivory keys, and her heart cries out 
 that she may be spared the fate of the rear-guard of the 
 long procession of her sisters. Back there, where the 
 
158 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 clouds hover, where falls the stinging lash, the weak 
 ones stagger along under their burdens of disease, 
 while from their rotting bodies pollution of the social 
 stream becomes more and more a danger to all. "Spare 
 me that !" she cries in her heart, and bends still lower 
 over the ivory keys, as she sees a woman in the front 
 rank, where wealth fawns, suddenly fall by the wayside 
 "Spare me that!" On either side of this broad high 
 way where the women of sin must take their way to 
 ward the land of To-morrow, her eyes behold a kneel 
 ing army of Christians, too pious to lift their eyes to 
 the struggling mass of prostituted women in the high 
 way. They are bowed in prayer, and heed not the cries 
 of pain as the lash cuts the quivering flesh. They 
 are content to pray, to weep a little, and greatly to con 
 demn, while the giant hand of greed wields the whip 
 lash of a hundred hungers, and the army of the fallen 
 staggers, cursing, mocking, gibbering, to its doom. 
 
 All of this lies back of this woman s eyes. The man 
 beside her asks for a song, and as she bends to seek 
 the music, his puffed and stubby fingers fall upon her 
 neck; she shrinks from the contact; then remembering 
 her part, braces her body and turns her head to smile 
 the hand passes down, down over her shoulder and is 
 hidden. The music is found, she straightens up, the 
 man steps back. Touching a bell upon an onyx stand he 
 waits. The woman begins the interlude, smiling so 
 sweetly at him that her mastery of the art seems per 
 fect. 
 
 Be careful there. You of the many millions, with 
 wealth and slaves and playthings. This woman may 
 go mad, stark, staring mad, to-night to-morrow. Her 
 racked body and tortured nerves, the tragedy of her 
 life, this vision of your praying multitudes calling to a 
 faraway God as they line the great highway and listen 
 to the fall of the lash all of these have combined to 
 plant madness in her blood. To-night she may take your 
 life, as your son s life was taken, by one like her. Be 
 ware! 
 
 The song ends the singer swings upon the stool 
 the podgy man of millions claps his puffy hands and 
 cries "Brava ! brava ! That WLS a corker ! Give us 
 another, sweetheart." 
 
MADAME TALKS BUSINESS 159 
 
 Behind him a boy of twelve did I say a boy of 
 twelve? Yes, a boy of twelve years, crammed with 
 crime enough to contaminate the keeper of heaven s 
 gate, stands waiting. 
 
 "Oh, the bellhop." Slowly this man draws a roll of 
 bills from a vest pocket. "I counted em, my charmer," 
 he snickers, tapping the woman on the cheek with 
 the roll. Unfolding the bills he lays one upon the tray. 
 "Tell Madame to give me a call at 8:30, and take up 
 a basket of the same I had last time to " 
 
 "He knows," the woman nodded and turns to the 
 piano. 
 
 In a cozy corner, beneath an iron-girted lamp, cast 
 ing soft lights on a table at which sits a man ill at ease 
 and a woman struggling to hide her passion, another 
 tragedy is working out. In setting our stage let us see 
 what part is here in the playing. 
 
 At the Eagle Club, two hours ago, Jack Masters 
 met his friend and begged him to go out to Madame 
 Vaughn s and explain to Emma the reasons back of 
 his neglect for a week past. This man at the table de 
 murred, protested, explained, proposed a compromise, 
 but finally yielded because he was a friend indeed. 
 
 As he sits looking into the eyes of the woman, he 
 knows why Jack found so many excuses for not want 
 ing to see her, yet insisted that some one must see her 
 forthwith. 
 
 Beautiful, with that strange dark beauty of the Old 
 South a skin full of fire eyes that burn, and melt, 
 and burn again lips as ripe as cherries, and as red 
 wide, arching brows supporting a broad forehead 
 crowned with a wealth of glorious black hair and this 
 but half the picture. From the tips of her pink lobed 
 ears to the laces that but half hide her swelling breasts, 
 the smooth soft skin covers a perfection of curves. Her 
 eyes to-night are more than black. Metallic points of 
 light play in their depths. She scorns the man who 
 seeks to tell of a lover s unfaith. And he reads in those 
 eyes more than warrant for his instant death did this 
 queenly beauty but hold the power. 
 
 "To send a stranger to me! To insult me so! Oh, 
 
I6O MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 I will not bear it! I will not! I will not!" Her voice 
 is low, so low, but the man is not deceived. 
 
 "But he just didn t dare to come Miss Miss " 
 
 "Emma," she whispered. 
 
 "Miss Emma," he couldn t come because " 
 
 "He preferred to send a stranger," she interrupted, 
 scornfully; "and it is all of a week since he has been 
 here ; already Madame is asking " 
 
 "Oh, that s all right," the man assured her; "here s 
 an even hundred Jack sent out;" he laid the money on 
 the table before her. 
 
 "Take it to him ; I cannot touch " her head fell. 
 What choice had she? If she would be true to this 
 man she must take his money; Madame must be paid. 
 
 "Oh, God !" she protested while thrusting the money 
 into her bosom. The man in pitying her began to de 
 spise the friend who had sent him on this mission. 
 
 "Why did he send you, a man I had never seen?" 
 she demanded. "Does he look upon me as a woman of 
 the town?" The man winced, but decided that the only 
 way out was for him to put up the best story he could 
 and God pity Jack when they meet again. 
 
 "Oh, no, not that, I assure you. He s in a beastly 
 hole you see his father saw you two last week, and put 
 a detective on the scent after Jack had lied like a thief 
 to shield you." 
 
 "To shield me." She clinched her hands until the 
 tips of her fingers went white. "Go on. So long as I 
 have let you begin, you may as well make an end of 
 it." 
 
 "Well, he put the detective on the scent as I said. 
 He shadowed you and reported. The old man cornered 
 Jack and brought the detective out to confront him. 
 Jack confessed, and and the old man gave him the 
 choice of throwing you over or being kicked out with 
 out a cent " 
 
 "And he has decided?" The woman stood over him 
 her eyes ablaze. "He has decided to throw me over and 
 save the dollars?" Her hand upon his arm made him 
 wince. 
 
 "No," he hesitated. "No, not that ; but so long as 
 liis father has a man hired to watch him it would be 
 suicidal for him to break his word." 
 
MADAME TALKS BUSINESS l6l 
 
 "Break his word? Oh, God! He break his word!" 
 She turned away from him to hide the agony of shame 
 that tortured her. Standing thus she asked: 
 
 "Sir, do you know when he first learned to lie to 
 break his word do you know when he committed a 
 crime for which, if there be a God, he will surely die? 
 Do you?" 
 
 Jack s friend choked; his throat refused its office 
 he struggled to find words and was silent. 
 
 The woman looked down upon him. "I thought I 
 hated you when you came to me, but I did not know 
 what hate meant then. Listen. Jack Masters came into 
 my life two years ago. It took him a year and a half 
 to win my love. Having that, he labored three months 
 to get me to consent to come to this city. He swore 
 he could not live without me. We would be quietly 
 married and live away from the world until his folks 
 were convinced that he would not marry a woman who 
 had money but whom he professed to despise. After 
 months of entreaty on his part, I yielded this much; I 
 would follow him to this .city, and when he had con 
 vinced me that he would risk so much I would marry 
 him, and hide from his family for a time " 
 
 The man looked up, dark anger kindling in his eyes. 
 
 "He left me in my quiet Southern home to dream 
 of a great love in a new home, and I swear to you, tho 
 you are but a stranger thrust into my life, I was as in 
 nocent as any woman who ever went to the altar when I 
 came to this city three months ago. We were mar 
 ried " the words were scarcely audible. 
 
 "Married!" he cried. "Why, he told me " 
 
 "Yes," her lips trembled, but a devil danced in her 
 black eyes "what did he tell you?" 
 
 "The hound told me he picked you up at the races 
 
 somewhere and your beastly temper " he blurted 
 
 out then paused. 
 
 "That will do" she spoke quietly. "Now listen to 
 me, Mr. Mr. " 
 
 "James Meyers." 
 
 "Listen to me, Mr. Meyers; that man married me. 
 Those who assisted in the ceremony may have been 
 as false as he, but I believed. We lived at a hotel a 
 short time, then he brought me here, to a fashionable 
 
1 62 MILLS OF MAMMON" 
 
 boarding house as he said. Oh, what a farce ! What 
 a farce! And I, poor fool, lived here for weeks in igno 
 rance of the nature of the fashionable boarders social 
 standing. Lived to myself, and for his love and in the 
 end this infamy is put upon me. Tell him this friend 
 of yours that I shall pay Madame what I owe her and 
 immediately leave this house. Once outside its walls his 
 life is not safe! tell him this. Tell your friend has he 
 ever done a like act of kindness for you? Tell him I 
 shall live to laugh at him when his last hope of forgive 
 ness has faded if there is a God, I will." 
 
 "I am not his friend. Damn him ! I could kill 
 him!" the man cried as the beauty of the woman, her 
 misery, her power to hate, rilled him. "I could kill the 
 cur !" His teeth came together over the words. 
 
 "Do it ! Do it ! Only half kill him ! Mark him for 
 
 life! Maim him " She was on her knees by his 
 
 side, clinging to him. "Do this; then come back to me 
 for your reward ask anything, everything! Oh, God! 
 If you would but do this for me!" Spent, she sank to 
 the floor. 
 
 Our stage is set. Each piece of property in place. 
 Joel Holdon enters the doorway, and Madame sends 
 May up the grand stairway to summon Norma to the 
 feast. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 ARE YOU READY? 
 
 Norma Jordan looked toward the door as she turned 
 from the mirror. "Yes," she answered, as May took her 
 hand and lifted it to the twisted lips. "Yes," she re 
 peated, as one in a dream, and followed the maid. 
 
 On the stairs, as she hesitated upon the landing, she 
 could hear the great clock ticking "Dollars and cents," 
 "dollars and cents," "dollars and cents." As she de 
 scended a prayer went up from both May and herself 
 to a God they believed to be all-powerful to save, both 
 here and hereafter. 
 
 May led her to the parlor, whispering: "He s in 
 the parlor now he used to come when Myrt was was 
 here. God bless you, Norma, God bless you !" Gently 
 she pushed the girl between the beautiful silken hang 
 ings, and fled that she might not know the next act in 
 this tragedy. 
 
 After one quick look around the walls adorned with 
 pictures of naked women, and riots of debauchery, her 
 eyes in startled terror fled to the faces of the three wom 
 en and four men in the room. Yes, the women have 
 heard of her the new beauty. Wildly the girl looked 
 from face to face, as a Christian maiden in Nero s time 
 may well have looked into the eyes of the beasts whose 
 claws and teeth were soon to tear her shrinking, quiv 
 ering flesh. Not a line of sympathy marked the faces 
 of these men and women as they gazed upon the cower 
 ing girl, standing at bay, her back against the pillar 
 supporting the arch spanning the entrance. 
 
 The three women looked upon her beauty and dread 
 ed it. Her competition was to be feared. The four 
 men looked upon her from eyes behind which a thousand 
 generations of men have handed down to this age, with 
 its white enamel of Christian professions, the law of 
 the jungle, touching women. 
 
 163 
 
164 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 Look at this sweet, white blossom of womanhood. 
 
 Come with me, all ye who pray who call upon the 
 name of God. 
 
 Come with me to Madame Vaughn s old red brick 
 mansion, gray stone trimmed. 
 
 Stand there; under that picture. 
 
 No, my Puritan, lift your eyes ! Look upon this 
 daughter of a Christian land by her mother named 
 Estella. To-night a second baptism is to be hers in 
 the fires of a more than hell they will christen her 
 Norma Jordan. 
 
 Look! Her head has fallen upon her breast! As 
 she stands with clinched hands before her, her finger 
 nails are eating into the pink of her skin to taste the 
 sweet young blood before these wantons, these hellions 
 of your greed-crazed age, shall suck it up drop by drop. 
 
 Each curve and swelling beauty of this, God s gift 
 to earth, was designed to stir the appetite of a regal 
 love. To bless a world. To hallow motherhood. These 
 deep dyed blushes that come and go, over half concealed 
 breasts that rise and fall as the head bends lower and 
 lower these are but the heralds of the coming fullness 
 of womanhood and here, wolves, human wolves, de 
 vour this beauty, and feast their eyes upon her flesh 
 alone. 
 
 Call out to your God, O Christian! Call, and call 
 yet again. That such things should stand, that this 
 should be a part of the marketing, the profit-taking of 
 our time. 
 
 But see! She totters. She sinks to the floor, and 
 in her yielding limbs a thousand generations of outraged 
 womanhood cry out for vengeance. 
 
 Joel Holdon sprang to his feet as Norma fell, and 
 from one side looked up at a girl with bleached, straw- 
 colored hair. "She s ill," he ventured, and the girl, 
 laughing, replied: 
 
 "Come off. She s stringing you !" 
 
 At that moment Madame entered. Hastily surveying 
 her boarders and their startled guests, she fell upon her 
 knees beside Norma, and attempted to revive her. Look 
 ing up at Joel, who had asked, "Is this the girl?" she 
 answered "Yes" and called for wine. 
 
 The wine, supplemented by Madame s efforts, soon 
 
and here, wolves, human wolves, devour this beauty, and feast their eyes 
 
 upon her flesh alone." Page 164. 
 
ARE YOU READY? 165 
 
 brought the girl to consciousness of her surroundings. 
 Her first glance at Madame s face told her more plainly 
 than words that her keeper was angry; that she must 
 control herself and play the game to the limit she had 
 set. The only thing between her and dishonor was the 
 integrity of a man and he must be put to the test. 
 
 "What was it, Norma?" The question was sweetly 
 spoken, but Norma saw the Madame s eyes. 
 
 "I I don t know," she faltered; then gathering her 
 will, went on: "It won t happen again, I assure you." 
 
 Madame left the room as Joel took the girl by the 
 arm and led her to the great fat davenport where but 
 a short while ago a boy was destroyed. 
 
 Once more the interrupted revel is under way. The 
 girl with the bleached straw hair has been called to the 
 piano. The podgy millionaire and his mate of the tragic 
 eyes are gone; so, too, the dark beauty lured from the 
 Southland. But six remain. Joel, son of a mother 
 whose life was one long prayer for him; whose sister 
 has opened the floodgates of her heart night after night 
 for him, sits upon the davenport beside the woman who 
 is to prove him. His arm is about her waist, yet 
 she dare not reprove him. He has captured her hands 
 and, bending over her, his hot breath upon her, he de 
 mands a kiss as forfeit for the scare she gave him. 
 
 He has a right to ask this in this place he need but 
 ask and all must be given as she realizes this her blood 
 runs riot through her body, her senses swim she lifts 
 her beautiful face in pleading. 
 
 Her big, brown eyes with drooping lashes half hid 
 ing them, her blushes, her heaving bosom, all combin 
 ing to make her ravishingly tempting, send the hungry 
 jackals of passion leaping through his poisoned veins in 
 wild clamor for their prey. Again and again his hungry 
 lips devour the nectar of innocence. Norma hides her 
 face, a shuddering fear filling her soul. Can she hold out 
 against this man? Already the pain is half sweet. She 
 must! She must! so she tells herself, and admits that 
 If she is to last out the struggle against those burning 
 eyes, those arms, those lips, those hands, the test must 
 soon be had. 
 
 The girl at the piano swung around on the stool just 
 in time to see Joel s last kiss, and the drooping head 
 
l66 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 with its glory of brown hair into which the lights threw 
 rays of burnished copper. Her lips are curled in scorn. 
 "He s a fool, and his new beauty is a simpering sissy. 
 Just look at her playing the schoolgirl-come-on, and his 
 being taken in by it. Well, I ll just put an end to this 
 country spooning," she tells her lover, and asks aloud: 
 
 "Does Miss Jordan play?" 
 
 Joel repeated the question, and at Norma s almost in 
 audible answer arises and offers his arm. 
 
 "What shall it be?" Her eyes were lifted for a 
 moment to the wall above that instrument of grand pos 
 sibilities; the picture hanging there, seen at a glance, 
 sends her eyes back to the ivory keys. Joel Holdon, son 
 of what we denominate a Christian home, who to-night 
 in a new baptism takes the name of James Y. Johnson, 
 bends over the girl. 
 
 "Give us anything and you won t miss it," he whis 
 pers. 
 
 Slowly her fingers wander over the keys. She sits 
 at home. Her first lover, a boy who went to school with 
 her, stands at her side. Just behind in the dim light of 
 the little home nest sit her mother and sister. Mechani 
 cally her mind directs her fingers to the old melodies; 
 homely songs of a buried past; a time before our Chris 
 tian homes were filled with songs from red-light dis 
 tricts set to ragtime. Still she is seeking something; 
 the melodies she has found run through a few bars and 
 die away she has found it! 
 
 The grand piano responds; it quivers, and vibrates. 
 The slave has lifted her eyes. No more that horrid 
 picture; in its stead a picture not of pigments on can 
 vas, but a spirit picture born of the torture of the hour, 
 fills up the massive gilt frame above the piano. 
 
 All other sound in this parlor where Bacchus revels 
 with drunken earth clods is stilled as a clear young voice 
 rises and falls in unearthly sweetness and appeal. 
 
 "Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee," the 
 words swell grandly forth. 
 
 Joel clutched the side of the piano: "What sort of 
 a song is this for such a place?" he asks himself. 
 
 Over yonder where the dark-eyed woman sat so 
 short a time ago and offered a stranger all she could 
 
ARE YOU READY? 167 
 
 possibly give, the girl with bleached hair now sits, her 
 face buried in her hands. 
 
 A hard-visaged woman who has been discussing a 
 "dope sheet" with her companion, sits staring at the 
 girl as she ends the first stanza of the hymn. In a 
 bound she reaches the piano before the second stanza 
 is reached: 
 
 "What th hell s th matter with you? Think this s 
 a gospel shop?" she demands, roughly shaking the girl. 
 
 "Let her alone, Madge, a little of it won t hurt" 
 Joel begins. 
 
 "Let her alone nothin ! Look what she s doin t* 
 Fanny. Th fool s blubberin like a kid, and first we 
 know she ll be havin one of them spells." 
 
 Norma, released by the woman, slipped from the 
 stool, and catching Joel by the arm, said: "Do please 
 take me away. For God s sake take me out of this 
 place." 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE BETRAYAL. 
 
 When Joel led Norma from the parlor to her room 
 he tried to take her in his arms, but she eluded him. 
 For the first time since she had been in the city she 
 had the key to her room ; she turned the key and faced 
 the man. Again he attempted to take her in his arms. 
 
 "Wait, Mr. Johnson, I must tell you something," 
 she panted. 
 
 "Oh, you re all right; I ll risk that." 
 
 "You don t understand." Upon her knees she lifted 
 her sweet young face to him, and in her outstretched 
 hands held up her virtue, her purity, her womanhood, 
 and asked him to bless it in mercy. 
 
 "I am not what you think me. I was lured here, be 
 trayed, deceived. Oh, Mr. Johnson, you can t know 
 the awful things that have been threatened you can 
 not know what I have suffered ! You are my one hope. 
 Stay here to-night. You may have my bed, I will sleep 
 on the floor in the bath room, anywhere. To-morrow 
 come back and get me ; take me out of this awful place ; 
 let me go home to my mother and sister. Do this for 
 me, and God will bless you." 
 
 He heard her out; yes, every word, and if he had 
 been a man of clean blood he could have given her but 
 one answer. But here was game well worth the chase. 
 He lifted her up and seated her upon a divan. 
 
 "My dear girl," he said, "don t you know that I 
 could not take you away to-morrow?" 
 
 "Not take me away, and why?" 
 
 "Not one of the Madame s boarders leaves here, even 
 for a drive, until Madame is sure they are safe." 
 
 "And this was my one hope!" the girl exclaimed. 
 "Unless, unless you could protect me until Madame is 
 satisfied !" 
 
 He had his arms about her. "My God, Norma, I 
 168 
 
THE BETRAYAL 169 
 
 don t want to protect you for a month only; I want to 
 protect you always/ 
 
 She ceased to struggle; he reached up and drew 
 her head down, down until he had almost touched her 
 lips, when, with a cry, she freed herself. 
 
 "What am I doing? What am I doing?" she wailed 
 as she put the length of the room between them. 
 
 "Nothing wrong, Norma, nothing wrong," he re 
 peated, following her. "Come back and be a sensible 
 little girl. Let us look this situation square in the face 
 and see what we can do," he urged. When he had pre 
 vailed upon her to be seated he said: "Now see here, 
 Norma, if I had come to your home and told you I 
 loved you, you would have listened to me, wouldn t 
 you?" 
 
 Remembering his lips, she whispered, "Yes." 
 
 "And after we had been engaged awhile we would 
 have married, and and you wouldn t talk about sleep 
 ing on the floor, or in the bath room, would you?" 
 Again his arm encircled her waist. Blushing, she hung 
 her head, but did not answer, and his hungry eyes 
 caught fire again. "Now, how about the present case? 
 I am sorry, of course, that Madame, or whoever it was, 
 trapped you; but I am glad I was the one to find you, 
 for I love you, I love you!" He smiled and winked at 
 the great brass bedstead as the girl s head was drawn 
 to his shoulder and lay there even when he slipped his 
 hand down to the whiteness of her neck. "Now, it s up 
 to us to make the best of things as we find them. If 
 I could take you home to-morrow I would be back the 
 day after trying to get you to marry me. I would carry 
 you off and marry you to-morrow, you sweetest of wom 
 en, so I don t see why you should ask me to wait a 
 month, especially as I will have to stay with you at least 
 half the time, if I am to hope to get you away at the 
 end of that time." 
 
 Norma freed herself from his embrace and tried to 
 read his face, his eyes. She was in desperate straits. 
 Was this man to be trusted? If he could give up 
 enough to come to her, protect her until they could 
 leave this place together, could she risk everything upon 
 a promise? 
 
 "Norma, you doubt me ;" his voice carried reproach. 
 
I7O MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "You doubt me, while I, finding you here in such a place 
 as this, and knowing nothing of your people or your 
 self, tell you I love you and offer to marry you as 
 soon as I may safely take you away; still you doubt 
 me." 
 
 "Oh, my God! I don t know what to do; I don t 
 know what to do!" It was the cry of one tortured. 
 As she tottered to the great east window the man smiled, 
 but she saw only a serious face ; when looking around 
 at the sound of his voice, she heard him say: 
 
 "Norma, dear, why don t you do the thing that s 
 easiest, the thing that will put your whole trouble on 
 my shoulders. I am well-to-do for a young man; my 
 family are in the lumber business (he was thinking 
 of his father s offer of a position at one of the iron 
 mines) and I am able to give you a good home." 
 
 "What do you want me to do ?" she asked in an awed 
 whisper. 
 
 "Do ?" he repeated, going over to her. "Why, sweet 
 heart, I want you to marry me before God to-night, 
 and before men as soon as I can get you away from 
 Madame s without kicking up a fuss." 
 
 Norma put her hand upon his shoulder, and it was 
 covered in an instant by one of his. Her face as sweet, 
 as firm as artists paint the face of the virgin, was turned 
 to his. 
 
 "Mr. Johnson, I have told you my story. You say 
 there is no escape from this place short of a month; 
 that this woman must have her pound of flesh, that 
 you cannot help me in any other than the way you have 
 named?" 
 
 "I do." He is looking straight into her brown eyes. 
 
 "You tell me you love me; that you believe my 
 story; that, if you could take me away from this this 
 place to-morrow, it would be to marry me?" 
 
 "I do." His passion played a very devil s dance in 
 his eyes, but the girl saw only the ardor of a man who 
 loves. 
 
 "You know what I will be exposed to if you should 
 go from this room and tell Madame what I have told 
 you? I want you to realize that I know I am power 
 less, that resistance is useless, that I am ready to yield 
 
THE BETRAYAL IJ7I 
 
 all, and now, rather than suffer as I have suffered in 
 anticipation of this moment/ 
 
 He tried to kiss her, but she held him back. 
 
 "Wait, wait/ she pleaded. "Let me tell you all, 
 then you may choose, and God help you. When we 
 came into this room I had but one hope, and that was 
 that I might touch your heart. My youth, my inexperi 
 ence, all I was or am, this I threw at your feet. You 
 offered me love and marriage, when you had the right 
 to command my obedience to your will. If I refused 
 you could consign me to such torture as only a pure 
 woman may suffer at the hands of such men and wom 
 en as brought me to this place. Do you still insist that 
 you love me and will marry me as soon as you may 
 take me away?" 
 
 "Norma, I love you, and I swear I will marry you. 
 What more can you ask?" 
 
 The girl hears, and a beautiful face, illumined with 
 all of hope, sweet beyond expression, is turned to the 
 man, his arms reach out, and she offers her lips with 
 a sigh that is both renunciation and sacrifice. Yet the 
 beauty, purity, trust and adoration that shine in the 
 depths of her eyes as she seeks to fathom the eyes of 
 the man who, to her, is both prince and deliverer, will 
 haunt him, even to death. 
 
 At ten the next morning Joel entered his father s 
 office. To the clerk he said: 
 
 "Bill, go in and tell the governor I ve :come to see 
 him about that mine proposition." To himself he add 
 ed: "If he had the President in there, he d drop him 
 on that hint." 
 
 Five minutes later he and his father had come to 
 an agreement. The father was elated, the son well 
 satisfied. He would go up the next week and select a 
 cage in some convenient place, not too far removed 
 from his work, a cage in which to put the bird he had 
 caught in the lime last night. 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 CHARLEY HARRIS FINDS A JOB. 
 
 "Price, what did that young fellow want?" Horace 
 Holdon inquired of his superintendent as he glanceH 
 at a young man who was slowly leaving the office. 
 
 "Oh, he has wheels," Price replied with a shrug. 
 
 "Well, he don t look it. What makes you think 
 so? There he s stopped on the street, uncertain which 
 way to go. What did you tell him ?" 
 
 "I told him to call to-morrow. He wants work; 
 said he d almost do it for the privilege of studying our 
 heavy casting work. He thinks he has something to 
 cheapen the cost of moulding; I didn t ask what." 
 
 "Well, he is out there still. Will you send one of 
 the clerks out and have him come in again? He looks 
 both intelligent and capable to me." 
 
 Five minutes later Charley was laying before the 
 Honorable Horace Holdon the future process of cast 
 ing iron and other metals ; he had a good listener. 
 When he had finished the Honorable Horace, smiling, 
 asked : 
 
 "Have you secured letters patent?" 
 
 "No, sir," the simple mechanic replied. "I have not 
 built the perfected machine; that s the only reason I 
 am in the city. I came here to build the machine." 
 
 "But you say you have given this machine a thor 
 ough trial, and have one of the castings produced, in 
 fact, the first one produced, if I followed you?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, a perfect casting and the only changes I 
 will make in the second machine will be to increase 
 speed, make the machine more compact and build the 
 flasks along new lines. As far as the working out 
 of the principle is concerned, that is solved, and is 
 perfect." 
 
 "Did you tell Mr. Price, the gentleman you talked 
 
 172 
 
CHARLIE HARRIS FINDS A JOB 173 
 
 with a little while ago, what sort of a machine you had 
 in mind?" 
 
 "No, sir, I only mentioned that I was working out 
 a problem, and needed to get better acquainted with the 
 work as it is done in a large plant before going fur 
 ther." 
 
 "I see. Avoid mentioning anything about your 
 work to any one." 
 
 Holclon drummed upon his desk and did not speak 
 again until the mechanic said: 
 
 "I certainly am grateful for the interest you have 
 taken." 
 
 "Oh, that s all right, that s all right; I am willing 
 to admit that I am both interested and curious so much 
 so that I would like to see the casting you made in 
 your machine. Could you bring it up this afternoon?" 
 
 "Certainly; I would be pleased to," Charley replied 
 with pride. 
 
 "Then come up at three o clock, and you need not 
 look farther for work. We will take care of you and 
 give you every opportunity to study the business. In 
 fact, a letter of introduction from me will give you a 
 chance to inspect any plant in the city or anywhere else 
 you may wish to push your investigations during your 
 spare time." 
 
 So it was arranged that Charley should return with 
 his precious memento of a first victory. Greatly re 
 joiced in finding such a sympathetic, whole-souled, gen 
 erous employer, he went back to his hotel. 
 
 Mr. Holdon swung lazily in his office chair, selected 
 a cigar, lit it and communed with himself. 
 
 "The fool has not even filed a caveat and don t 
 intend to patent his machine until it is perfected. Well, 
 well, well; suckers are born every minute. If that ma 
 chine will do the work there s millions in it. And I 
 have a shrewd guess as to who will handle those mil 
 lions." 
 
 Touching a button at his elbow, a boy appeared. 
 
 "Tell Price I want to see him." 
 
 As the boy disappeared his mind went back to the 
 alluring possibilities of a rapidly forming scheme. 
 
 "I ve got to go about this carefully. Harris must 
 be kept in the dark as to the possibilities of losing his 
 
174 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 rights to patent, through a leak. He evidently thinks 
 he must have the thing perfected before he can take 
 steps to protect it, and he must keep on thinking so." 
 
 "You wanted to see me?" Price inquired, his head 
 thrust in at the doorway. The employer answered cor 
 dially: 
 
 "Yes, come in. Price, that young fellow may have 
 wheels, but from what he told me of his experience in 
 foundries in smaller towns I should judge that he must 
 be a good workman and an all around man at that." 
 
 "Well, that s encouraging." 
 
 "Yes. Well, he may prove valuable to us in more 
 ways than one, and I want you to try him out. He 
 wants to work and look about a bit." 
 
 "But we can t stand for that. Why, man alive, he 
 may be one of the union s walking delegates, and by 
 getting the run of the works he d simply raise hell 
 among the men. I tell you, Mr. Holdon, we can t be 
 too careful. That cuss is not simple. I saw him when 
 he left here after his talk with you and he looked well 
 he looked like he had just pulled over a jack pot." 
 
 "Oh pshaw! Price. Your first little set-to with the 
 labor unions is still on your nerves. They were too 
 much for you." 
 
 "Not on your life," Price protested. "Next time I 
 run up against the unions they may strike and be 
 damned." 
 
 "Never mind, Price, never mind; let s get back to 
 Harris. I will guarantee that he is not a union man, 
 and if you handle him right, never will be. By the way, 
 I wish you would go down to the Dredging Company 
 this afternoon. Take Johnson or Kodetz, or both, and 
 get the work started on those patterns. They are get 
 ting anxious. "Say," he called after the superintendent, 
 "you can go down after dinner and save the extra trip 
 out here." 
 
 Price s only comment on the substance of the inter 
 view was: "I wonder what the old man s trying to get 
 out of that young fellow? I go down town after dinner 
 to save a trip out here. First time in his life that he s 
 thought of saving me an extra trip. I ll bet a horse 
 that young Harris is coming back this afternoon and 
 Holdon wants to keep me from getting next." 
 
CHARLIE HARRIS FINDS A JOB , 175 
 
 "Here, you, limpy, come here !" he called to a crip 
 pled roustabout. As he came up Price held out a 
 quarter. "Need it, Crips?" 
 
 "Bet yer life, but do I git it?" 
 
 "Yes, you get it. Come with me." Outside the 
 gates upon the side street lay a pile of brick. "I want 
 you to work here from one o clock until I get back from 
 downtown. Stack the brick in a nice pile. There ll be 
 another load along in an hour or two after dinner. I 
 want you to watch for a young man of about twenty- 
 five, as tall and about the same build as myself. He 
 wears a brown suit, tan shoes and a light soft hat, 
 and " 
 
 "Oh, that s th guy stopped me dis mornin an want 
 ed to know wus dis de place " 
 
 "So you would know him again?" 
 
 "Couldn t miss him, boss. Say, he s new to dis life ; 
 talks as good why, he s de real candy. Wanted to 
 know how was me mudder, and asks me hav I got kid 
 relatives. No, I couldn t possibly miss him," Mickey 
 Dougherty concluded with a broad grin. 
 
 "Well, here s the money in advance. Not a whisper 
 to any one, but just keep your eye peeled. If he shows 
 up and goes into our office you keep tab on how long 
 he stays, and well, that s all." 
 
 Mickey s wink at the billboard across the street was 
 expressive. "Wonder w at th ell s on? I ain t never 
 looked fer Price to tip me to shadder th old man. An* 
 th young guy; I hopes they ain t a-goin t* do nothin 
 t him he s pure sugar." 
 
 Mickey s labor was not in vain. At a few minutes 
 to three o clock the young man in the light hat came 
 up the side street, carrying under his arm a parcel 
 wrapped in newspaper. 
 
 "Hello, youngster," was his greeting, as he halted 
 beside the pile of brick. "Got a light job to-day, eh?" 
 
 "Yep, considerable light an good pay," Mickey, re 
 plied, winking repeatedly at the brick in his hands. 
 
 "Guess I m going to work with you after a while," 
 Charley volunteered as he sauntered on toward the 
 office. 
 
 An hour later he reappeared with his parcel neatly 
 wrapped in a different sort of paper, to find Mickey 
 
176 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 working like a Trojan to get the few remaining bricks 
 corded. 
 
 Both the Honorable Horace Holdon and Charles 
 Harris are satisfied, and we should be. Mickey is satis 
 fied, for he has a second quarter to jingle against the 
 first since he reported to Price. Price is the only dis 
 satisfied member of the quartette. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE FIRST ALARM. 
 
 "Say, Prof., they say Stella Davis ain t sent a word 
 home the two weeks she s been to the city," the postmas 
 ter announced to Professor Saunders as the latter stood 
 at the "General Delivery" window shortly after school 
 hours one Friday afternoon. 
 
 "Haven t heard from her?" the Professor ques 
 tioned, knitting his brows. "Why, that can t be true. 
 Anna told me the other day that Estella was getting 
 along all right." 
 
 "Well, it s against orders; but, by gum, I m a-goin 
 to do it, government or no government ! I tell you there 
 hasn t been a line come to this office in more n two 
 weeks facts are, they got a postal card the day after 
 she left, an* that she writ on th train, an if they ve 
 heard any more it s been telegraphed." 
 
 "That s easy found out," the Professor answered, 
 thoughtfully, "and as for Estella, I tell you if they 
 haven t heard from her there s something wrong." 
 
 He had turned to go when the postmaster said: 
 "No need of going over to see the operator. I saw 
 him just before you came in, an he says there hasn t 
 been no telegrams gone up to the Davis house since 
 some one telegraphed to Stella before she went away." 
 
 "Well, some one ought to go up and see Mrs. Davis 
 if that s the case." 
 
 "Just what I ve been thinkin for a week but them 
 wimmen are so proud, you can t tell how they d take 
 it. Why, Ann comes in here, looks in their box after 
 every mail, and just draws her lips tight an answers 
 those that question her and digs out but I tell you it s 
 wearing on her, and somethin ought to be done." 
 
 By this time a half-dozen neighbors had stopped 
 and were listening to the conversation. 
 
 "If it isn t too late," the Professor s voice was low, 
 177 
 
1/ MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "I know something of the ways of the world, and if 
 the girl has been in the hands of some people I have 
 heard of, the angels of heaven couldn t save her, but," 
 he turned .to those who had gathered, "not a word of 
 any of this until we have seen Mrs. Davis. Now, who 
 will go with me and get at the truth of tfhis report that 
 the family have not heard from her since she went to 
 Chicago ?" 
 
 "Oh, there s nothing to that report," a neighbor of 
 the Davis family spoke. "Mrs. Davis told my wife only 
 yesterday that Stella was well." 
 
 "Just some old woman s gabble," another announced. 
 
 But one man in the crowd edged his way to the Pro 
 fessor s side and whispered to him to agree with the 
 men it would keep the story from spreading. He 
 added that as soon as they could get away without being 
 observed he would accompany the teacher to the Davis 
 home. 
 
 Thus it fell out that the two women, while sorrow 
 fully preparing the evening meal, were surprised by 
 the advent of visitors each of whom had more than 
 a passing interest in the family, as will shortly develop. 
 
 "Good evening, Henry, and you, too, Professor. 
 Come right in." Even as she spoke this greeting to her 
 guests the mother s lips quivered. Did these men know 
 that Estella had forgotten her old home? That the 
 glamour of city life had so turned her head that she 
 even refused to answer any of their letters? Had some 
 one been to the city? the tortured mother wondered. 
 
 Anna met the Professor with stony eyes. He had 
 not been to call upon her since before Estella went 
 away, and in her heart had crept the thought that he 
 might have been courting her in order to be near her 
 sister. She could not guess that he had noted a change 
 in her manner toward him even before Estella went 
 away, and thought she had become ambitious to follow 
 Estella to the city, and consequently did not care to en 
 courage his suit. 
 
 Both men were ill at ease, after they had exhausted 
 die small talk wherewith we mortals attempt to bridge 
 over the uncomfortable and oft recurring chasms 
 abounding in the land where all fear to be misunder 
 stood. "What business have I to pry into the hidden 
 
THE FIRST ALARM 179 
 
 griefs and hurt prides of this family," each asked him 
 self, and each decided that women who had no men 
 folks of their own to look after them couldn t take a 
 bit of neighborly interest amiss, even though there was 
 nothing in the rumor. 
 
 According to agreement Henry, the older man, was 
 to keep Mrs. Davis engaged in a discussion of current 
 events until the Professor had sounded Anna. It took 
 several nudges, and sundry winks, to start the Professor 
 on his mission, but finally he mustered courage to ask 
 Anna to step out on the porch with him, as he had 
 something important to talk over with her. 
 
 As she followed him, pale-faced and wondering, her 
 mind was busy framing an excuse for not listening to 
 him, but he did not give her time to utter a word before 
 he plunged into his subject. 
 
 "Anna," he began, as soon as they were out the 
 door. "I have been all you would let me be to you ever 
 since I came to this town why didn t you come to me 
 with your trouble.?" 
 
 The girl shrank back among the wild cucumber 
 vines that girdled the porch, but did not reply. 
 
 "I know," the man went on, "that Estella has not 
 answered any of your letters." 
 "How do you know?" 
 
 "That does not matter it is the truth and you 
 foolish women for some cause, to me an enigma, are 
 keeping silent when Estella s life, her very honor, may 
 be in danger." 
 
 "Oh, John," the girl gasped and caught at him for 
 support. "I ve been afraid of that, but it is only moth 
 er s pride that s hurt she does not suspect, and I dare 
 not tell her of my half-formed fears a mention of that 
 would kill her. Oh, John, how could I know? I 
 thought you had ceased had ceased to to care 
 you " 
 
 "And you," he replied, kissing her despite a protest, 
 "you made me wretched. How could I know, when 
 you deliberately lied to me ? Oh, Anna, how could you ! 
 Why didn t you tell me ?" 
 
 "Because I foolishly promised mother not to say a 
 word to any one. Poor mother believes that Estella has 
 forgotten us, and recounts stories she has read about 
 
ISO MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 children who left home and were so enamored of their 
 new surroundings that they didn t want to even hear of 
 the old homes and because this is the easiest, safest 
 thing to believe, I have tried to accept it, but " 
 
 "But you are both very foolish, if you will pardon 
 me for being so blunt, to harbor such a thought of Es- 
 tella for a moment." 
 
 "I know it, John. I know it. Will you go to the 
 city and find her for us? She always liked you," the 
 girl blushed and looked down. Professor John Saun- 
 ders, unable to resist the temptation, gathered her into 
 his arms and was trying to tell her that he would go 
 to the ends of the earth for her when Mrs. Davis came 
 to the door. At sight of the tableau on the back porch 
 she threw up her hands: 
 
 "Land of love. If I ever! Why, Professor Saun- 
 ders !" were the exclamations that brought Henry to her 
 side, and at the same time caused the Professor to look 
 up with a rather sheepish smile, then to whisper to the 
 girl, whose face was hidden on his shoulder: "There s 
 but ne way to explain, and it s the way I ve wanted to 
 explain things to your mother for more than a year." 
 And he said aloud, that those standing in the doorway 
 might hear: "Mrs. Davis, I love your daughter may 
 I have her?" 
 
 "Land a mercy. Isn t that a slick way of getting 
 around an old lady? John Saunders, why didn t you 
 bring the rest of the neighbors in, and tell it right out 
 before them all? 
 
 "I wouldn t be ashamed to tell the whole world," 
 John stoutly protested, while he pressed Anna closer and 
 she hung her head lower to hide her blushes. 
 
 "Well, I ain t got a word to say when a girl stands 
 afore her own mother, an a stranger, as you might call 
 Henry here, an lets a man hug her, an she don t seem 
 in no ways bashful about it I should judge that I ain t 
 got nothing to say." 
 
 "Mother!" There was a world of reproach in 
 Anna s voice as she lifted a radiant though tear-stained 
 face from her lover s shoulder. 
 
 After the mother and Henry had left them Anna 
 turned to her lover: "John," she said, "I ought to be 
 
THE FIRST ALARM l8l 
 
 ashamed of myself for being so happy if you love me, 
 go. Don t telegraph, don t say a word to any one." 
 
 "But the postmaster, operator, and Henry know 
 and the Lord only knows how many more have the news 
 by this time," he protested. 
 
 "Then there is all the more reason why you should 
 hurry. In a wjsek s time think how many .stories will be 
 abroad." 
 
 "I will go to-night," he answered, and kissed her de 
 spite her struggles, protesting that he deserved much 
 for all the doubts he had carried in his heart for the 
 weeks since he had imagined she had geased to care 
 for him. 
 
 "Say, by gum, you re the bully boy with th glass eye 
 all right, John Saunders," Henry Weaver observed as 
 soon as they were out on the otreet, and enlarged upon 
 his statement as follows: "Perfectly smooth, perfectly 
 smooth. Had the old lady in a corner where she had to 
 either come up to the trough or jump the fence, and as 
 for th young lady well, from th way you was hangin 
 onto her it seemed to me that it was as well that she 
 
 didn t try to yank herself loose. If she had " 
 
 "If she had I would have caught her again," the 
 Professor answered, laughing; and then in a serious 
 tone took up the discussion of ways and means for the 
 prosecution of his city trip. Before they had reached 
 the postoffice where the postmaster was anxiously await 
 ing them, it had been agreed that both should go to the 
 city. 
 
 Upon arrival in the city, Weaver and Saunders 
 first sought the address given by the firm with whom 
 Estella was supposed to be employed. The number was 
 found to tally with a hole in the ground on West Madi 
 son street, and they were advised to lose no time in pre 
 senting their case to the police. So they hastened to a % 
 downtown station and laid their case before the officer 
 in charge. 
 
 "But, my dear sir," the sergeant protested, "you 
 should have come to us with this case two weeks ago. 
 In fact, we should have known of this unprotected 
 girl s arrival in the city. It s pretty late in the day to 
 undertake an investigation and give you any promise 
 
l82 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 of reaching her. You say the address at which she 
 was supposed to work is that of a vacant lot? Of 
 course, it was a regular plant." 
 
 "How about the letters her folks have written each 
 day?" This from the Professor. 
 
 "Oh, they d see that that end of it was fixed for 
 a while at least, but I ll send a man over to the office 
 and find out about her mail as soon as I have one to 
 spare, and we ll put a couple of good men on the case." 
 He paused and seemed buried in thought for a time, 
 then looking up, asked: "Did you bring much money 
 with you? I ve found that it is often advisable on 
 cases of this kind to have outside help from some of the 
 detective agencies, and, of course, the city can t be ex 
 pected to put up for that kind of work," he went on 
 to explain. 
 
 "Sure, we brought some of the needful along, and if 
 it costs five hundred dollars, we can put it up without 
 going back to the cellar for more," Weaver announced, 
 to the surprise of the Professor, who thought that all 
 they would need in the way of cash was enough to pay 
 hotel bills. 
 
 "That s the talk," the officer assured them. "Now 
 you gents just give me your hotel address haven t got 
 that far yet? Well, I ll fix you out, and you may ex 
 pect to hear from me almost any time." He drew a 
 pad to him, scribbled a note, placed it in an envelope, 
 licked the flap, sealed it, penciled a superscription and 
 handed the envelope to John. 
 
 "Give that to Mr. Holtz and you will be well taken 
 care of yes, the Holtz House is just around the corner 
 and one block south you can t miss it. It s a good 
 place. Good-day, gents." 
 
 On the way to the Holtz House, Henry exploded. 
 "Why, John," he exclaimed, "that brute talked as cool 
 as if we had only lost a yearling calf, confound him ! 
 Set there and never even blinked when you told him the 
 villains had put up such a game on an innocent girl. 
 Why, damn that man, his looks alone would get him 
 hung in a decent neighborhood if they were looking for 
 a criminal. And him directing the police force! Why, 
 
 man, he s a drunkard, and he s dirty, and his eyes . 
 
 John Saunders, you never want on your soul what I 
 
THE FIRST ALARM 183 
 
 saw in that man s eyes. I wonder if there ain t some 
 other police shop we can go to? One where there is a 
 decent man in charge?" 
 
 "No use kicking now," the Professor insisted. 
 "Our case will be booked and have every attention. And 
 you re wrong if you think that officer directs the police 
 force. He s a sort of clerk to the department ; enters 
 up the cases and reports them to the central station." 
 
 "Suppose he don t report our case? I tell you, John, 
 I wouldn t trust that man half as far as I could throw 
 old Baker s bull by the tail; another thing, I d like to 
 know what s inside that envelope he gave you ; if I had 
 it I d see but, I reckon, you couldn t be induced?" 
 
 "Not me," the Professor answered, laughing, and 
 remarked: "It wouldn t need to be sealed so far as I 
 am concerned." 
 
 "All right, we ll go to this Mr. Holtz hotel, but you 
 can bet that this chicken isn t going to turn himself 
 over to the police department, not entire. I ve heard 
 some things about them since I ve been on earth this 
 time that makes me fairly hungry to see what s inside 
 that envelope ;" he looked hard at John, but as that gen 
 tleman did not appear to be of a yielding disposition 
 where his integrity was touched, Henry closed the dis 
 cussion with this observation: "Anyway, I m going to 
 keep my eye peeled, and I d advise you to forget there 
 ever was a God while you are on this case, and you ll 
 be better able to discuss business with the average man 
 we ll run up against in this city." 
 
 There were but few guests in the office of the Holtz 
 House when John handed the note Sergeant Mike had 
 given him to the sleek youth who stood behind the desk. 
 This young gentleman, who sported two well-grown 
 "Alaskan Diamonds," and parted his abundant crop of 
 hair into two fluffy mats of black, took the envelope, and 
 after looking carefully at the address, called: "Martin, 
 Oh, Martin; here s a note from Mike!" 
 
 Martin Holtz, a rotund little man of middle age, who 
 supported a long-established baldness, and saw things 
 through a pair of sharp black eyes, waddled around be 
 hind the counter, examining the men from the country 
 at his leisure as he went. He took the note from the 
 clerk, glanced at it for a moment, then at the visitors, 
 
184 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 read it through, swung the register around, and reached 
 out a hand. "Glad to see you, gentlemen. Yes, register 
 there; how long will you stay? Oh, that s all right. 
 We ll fix you out all right." To the clerk, he said, in 
 an undertone : "You d better hunt Bill up ; I ll stay here 
 till you get back." 
 
 As the visitors moved away from the desk, Holtz 
 took out the note and read it again. 
 
 "Martin : I m sending you two from the grass. The 
 old fellow s the candy. Take good care of him. The 
 other guy s a preacher. They re here on a girl hunt. 
 Send Bill over, I want to see him at once. Mike." 
 
 The particular "Bill" Sergeant Mike wants to see 
 deserves more than passing attention. He is one of 
 those combination errand boys, hangers-on, go-betweens 
 and confidential agents employed by the grafting states 
 men, the bribe-taking policeman and the business man 
 looking for a chance to lose his money and his virtue. 
 The number of "Bills" grow and fatten as public mor 
 als decay. The individual "Bill" under discussion wears 
 clothes up to the limit of his rake-off from week to 
 week. Raiment with him is not a fixed possession, to be 
 worn until worn out last month he appeared at one of 
 the downtown hotels in full regalia of a gentleman of 
 fashion; wore a high hat, sported diamonds, and took 
 his meals at the "Annex." This month his headquar 
 ters are at the "Holtz," and his fine plumage of last 
 month lies on a shelf at "Uncle s." Until something 
 worth while turns up, this cog in the great American 
 Politico-graft Machine must content himself with a 
 "Dicer" and clothes in keeping; all braced by a brave 
 show of "phony" jewels worn to make a "front" be 
 fore those from the green country who bring with them 
 the real long green of commerce. 
 
 Here comes our particular "Bill." His eyes are ever 
 on the move, cunning, restless, daring. Yes, daring. 
 When a coward knows a mischance but loses him a vic 
 tim, knows that behind him all the machinery of crime 
 and a goodly part of the State s machinery for the detec 
 tion of crime is ready to offer him asylum why should 
 he fear? When he went up to the desk and asked what 
 was vvTt.rrl after reading the note, he simply remarked 
 
THE FIRST ALARM 185 
 
 that it looked good ; then turning to survey trie room 
 
 asked: "Where s the blokes?" 
 
 # # * # * * 
 
 "The thing that surprised me," John was saying, as 
 the two sat apart in the lobby of Holtz Hotel, "is your 
 interest in this case, Henry. Is there anything back of 
 it?" Henry Weaver let his eyes rest upon the throng 
 passing upon the opposite side of the street. He did 
 not move for what seemed to John an hour. When he 
 did look at his companion, his face was alight. 
 
 "Yes," he admitted. "There s something behind it; 
 a good deal behind it." Hesitating again, his blue eyes 
 sought the opposite side of the street. When next he 
 turned to John it was to say: "1 never told a soul in 
 my life, Professor, and I never expected to, but bein s 
 you and me is hooked up in this case, and bein s how 
 I m going to stay with it until I know what s happened 
 to Stella, I m going to tell you." Again he hesitated. 
 "Provided you promise never to say a word." 
 
 "On my honor." 
 
 "Then here goes. When Grace Ward was a-goin 
 on fifteen, I went to work for one of the neighbors and 
 I planned from the first time I seen her to have that 
 gal. Times I lost hope, an again I d perk up some. 
 She was as lively as a cricket, and didn t need to do 
 anything but refuse the first half-dozen fellows as 
 asked her to go anywhere, always knowin they d be as 
 many more waitin the chance. That went on for three 
 years, and most of the boys got kind of tired, but I 
 stuck to it, and either went with Grace or went alone. 
 Well, at the end," he knocked the ashes from his pipe 
 and leisurely refilled it, "at the end of the three years 
 I seemed to have things my own way and was happy. 
 Why, man, I wouldn t have traded my buckboard and 
 little fly mare and my hope of finally bringing Grace to 
 say Yes for all the world. Then big Jim Davis, from 
 over the river, got sight of my song bird." He fell si 
 lent again, the Professor was looking straight out at 
 the building over the way. "Yes, I took her to him. It 
 was this way: I d heard they was having a rip-roarin 
 revival over to the Zion church on the other side of 
 the river, bout twelve miles from the corner where 
 Grace s folks lived, an I was so proud of Grace and 
 
l86 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 my rig, it was sleighing and I had a cutter, that Iwant- 
 ed to show off, and Grace was a sight to sec ; tump, 
 rosy-cheeked, big brown eyes, and the sweetest augh. 
 Well, we went. I left her standin at the gate -nile I 
 put the horse up, then we went in and stood by ne of 
 the big stoves while Grace unwrapped. My, bul was 
 proud ! Nothing there could beat her, and that vis the 
 trouble. We went back to a seat and it just happen 1 that 
 the usher showed us into a long pew almost full. Grace 
 went in ahead and sat down by the man she mrried 
 three months later. He looked at her with all h eyes, 
 and whispered to me about one thing and anotbr, but 
 all the time he kept looking at Grace. When tb meet 
 ing was over he helped me get my horse andtucked 
 Grace in ; by that time he knew where she live and a 
 good deal more. Grace seemed sort of quic going 
 home, but two nights later, she wanted to go bck and 
 I didn t, but we went. And as sure as I live tfct Jim 
 Davis was a-waitin t help her out and I guess b asked 
 her whilst I was putting the horse away if he juldn t 
 come and see her ; anyway, he came, and I put u a los- 
 in fight; but I tell you I stuck to it to the la.s I re 
 member one night in the early spring I went >ver to 
 Wards and Grace sent word down that she \*s sick, 
 but I stayed because I knew her mother liked ic, and 
 didn t like Davis. Finally Grace came downsters and 
 just stuck her head into the door and said: I-enry, I 
 want to see you a minute ; only a minute/ On! a min 
 ute? I says, when I ve been waiting hours? iie tried 
 to laugh, but didn t make much of it, and when -e were 
 out on the porch she up and told me she d romised 
 to marry Jim Davis, and it was coming off in aaonth.* 
 
 The Professor turned his keen eyes upon te older 
 man. 
 
 "Well, Professor, I suppose I ought to hve just 
 been completely horns waggled, but I warn t. I know d 
 she couldn t hold out against such lovin as jig Jim 
 Davis put up. I knew I loved her better; I kt*\v that; 
 but I couldn t take her in my arms and jusi squeeze 
 the breath out of her and kiss her a dozen tnes and 
 her a sayin Don t, don t, don t every time :>e could 
 get her breath. That s the way big Jim loved icr, and 
 got her; and I loved her so much I couldn t go gin her 
 
THE FIRST ALARM 187 
 
 word, even when I knew she didn t mean it, and I lost 
 her. When she told me and I didn t seemed surprised, 
 she looked at me kind of funny and said : I thought you 
 loved me ? Then, I seemed to sense that it was all over, 
 and I just caught her up in my arms and kissed her and 
 told her how I had always loved her, and if big Jim 
 ever kissed her oftener or hugged her harder it was be 
 cause he was a bigger man, and she never said don t 
 once." The narrator drew a hand across his mouth and 
 chuckled. "Well, when I let her go she looked up at 
 me the queerest and says: Henry, why didn t you do 
 that before? Because I have been fool enough to be 
 lieve you didn t want me to, not because I didn t want 
 to, I answered. She patted me on the shoulder and 
 said: Never mind, Henry, there s half a dozen nice 
 girls in this neighborhod who will jump at the chance 
 of marrying you. Then I told her there would never 
 be another woman in this world given the chance to say 
 either Yes or No to me, and I meant it. Well, Jim 
 married her and in a couple of years they moved to the 
 new town, when the railroad went through, but he never 
 done well, though he did love Grace and the babies. 
 When they d been married about ten years, I went over 
 to the town to live and to look after some property I had 
 there. Then Jim died and I helped straighten things out, 
 and got the family into the little home they have." 
 
 "Why in the world didn t you marry the widow?" 
 the Professor asked. 
 
 "Well, that was the queer part of it," Henry admit 
 ted, in a low voice. "First oft I thought to myself as 
 soon as Grace got kind of quieted down I d go over and 
 kind of commence where we d left off out on her folks 
 porch away back there, but the more I thought of it the 
 more I found I d quit loving her right there and then. 
 I d just been a good friend since, that s all. Well, I 
 went over several times, intendin each time to see if I 
 couldn t get the old feelin back, but I ll be hornswaggled 
 if it ud come. I d just plum as lief gone out and kissed 
 her cow, mind you," he looked up to frown. "Grace 
 Davis is a plum good-looking woman, only I loved a 
 girl, a bright-faced, brown-eyed girl, with dimpled chin 
 and the reddest cheeks and lips, the same as I kissed 
 that night on the porch; and seems it don t matter how 
 
l88 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 old I grow, my love always stays young." Again silence 
 fell. Bill sauntered by, took their measure and went on 
 to report. "Been a long time getting around to present 
 time ; eh, Professor ?" Henry smiled. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "I say it s takin me a long time to tell what brought 
 me into this case, but I was layin a proper foundation, 
 as them lawyer chaps keeps a-sayin in court." The pipe 
 was out again ; slowly this ever-young old lover of 
 fifty-five refilled it, and when its glow had been revived 
 he settled back in the big rocker. "Seems like a fool 
 thing to say, and I tell you beforehand that I ain t no 
 excuses to offer, and ain t never had no hopes nor noth 
 in . But, I ve loved Stella ever since she put on dresses 
 to her shoe tops." 
 
 "Loved Estella?" The Professor turned square 
 around. "Loved Estella?" he repeated, to which Henry 
 nodded, and blew a ring whirling and dipping toward 
 the lighter currents of air above. 
 
 . "Them s the words, Professor. She s the duplicate 
 of what her mother was as a girl, only she s got all of 
 Jim Davis rock-bottom principles along with her moth 
 er s body and spirits." He looked closely at the Profes 
 sor. "But, John, you want to understand that I haven t 
 been no fool. I knowed this love of mine was billed to 
 the same port as the old one ; besides, I d never have the 
 chance to stand on no back porches with her, but I jest 
 naturally worship the ground she walks over, and I 
 don t ask nothin else. If I d had the gumption of a 
 louse when I was courting her mother, Stella would of 
 been my daughter, and, well, maybe that would of been 
 too much happiness for one man." 
 
 "I wish to God Estella was your wife to-night," 
 John answered. 
 
 "Do you now?" the other questioned, with an odd 
 smile. "Well, John, it s too much to ask and I m not 
 asking anything, but as true as I believe in God, I don t 
 give up the hunt until I find her or them that s made 
 away with her." He arose, his clinched hands tight 
 gripped. "I ain t up to date on city ways, even if I 
 have seen some of the world, and I m suspicious we 
 ain t started right, but by the Holies, John, I ain t got 
 nothin else to live for, but that poor innocent child." 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 A COUNTRYMAN HELD UP. 
 
 Mike, police sergeant, protector of morals, guide to 
 the ignorant and guardian of innocence, had not waited 
 patiently the appearance of Bill Jenks. "There s many a 
 slip twixt the cup and the lip," even in the skinning of 
 "greens;" therefore his face expressed even more of 
 satisfaction than his grunt, when Bill stepped into the 
 station. 
 
 "What s on ?" the latter demanded abruptly. 
 
 "If it s worked right, there s plenty on," Mike as 
 sured him and asked, "did you see the guys?" 
 
 "Sure thing; put my lamps on em the minute I got 
 into the house, but what s the lay?" 
 
 "That s easy. You see, Bill, a girl comes to town 
 about two or three weeks ago and gets pinched by one 
 of the board of trade, and her sorrowing parents sends 
 these two guys with a roll of money and the girl s photo 
 graph in here today." 
 
 "Well, it s a cinch they wouldn t know the girl by 
 her photo if they found her now," Bill winked knowing 
 ly. "Not if Pagan " 
 
 "Cut it Bill !" Mike s hand fell upon "Bill s" mouth 
 with some emphasis. "What th hell you want to men 
 tion names here for?" 
 
 "Beg pardon," the other stammered ; "I forgot." 
 
 "An you ain t got notfhin to do but remember see? 
 If you re going to see this lead to the end you want to 
 be always on the lookout." Bill nodded acquiescence, 
 and Mike proceeded. "I ve turned the case in regular 
 and everything will be according to specifications, but 
 the guys, bein apt to git restless while the department s 
 tryin to git started, I want you to fix up a little enter 
 tainment on the side for the missionaries. Suppose you 
 git a couple of th boys to go over to the hotel and offer 
 to help them find the girl ; they can explain how slow we 
 
 189 
 
ICK> MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 are over here. Oh, I don t need to tell you that don t 
 I ? Get two good men ; have them fixed so these guys 
 couldn t swear to them in case of a slip up, then go down 
 to one of the women on that list and fix with her to have 
 the farmers visit there with the fly-cops and when they 
 ask after Estella Davis, why put up a good song and 
 have them promise to produce her, say tomorrow night, 
 for five hundred dollars. If it s worked right, they will 
 bite like the bedbugs in the hold-over. Now, git out and 
 git the thing moving. I get two hundred dollars, you 
 get one hundred and the woman gits two hundred. Now 
 mosey and earn the money. There ll be more where that 
 comes from before we get through with the case/ Mike 
 assured Bill as the latter left the little coop-like office. 
 
 In two hours, under directions from Desk Sergeant 
 Mike, the machinery of crime had been oiled, the net 
 spread, and all made ready. After supper, the oily clerk 
 tapped Henry on the shoulder. 
 
 "Is this Mr. Saunders?" he inquired. 
 
 "No, that s the chap." Henry pointed a thumb toward 
 a lone figure at a window. 
 
 "A telephone call for you, Mr. Saunders." The oily 
 clerk, with a face full of pimples and a head full of sin, 
 slipped back to the counter. John went to the phonr. 
 
 "Is this Mr. Saunders?" 
 
 "Yes, who is this?" 
 
 "Police department may want you at any time from 
 now up to 12 o clock, keep close to the hotel." 
 
 "All right, thanks ; am glad to know you have things 
 moving." 
 
 "Oh, she s moving some," Mike answered before 
 hanging up the receiver, and John wondered what it was 
 that induced a laugh at the other end. 
 
 "Henry, they ve got things moving some over at 
 headquarters; just keep your eyes open." Henry looked 
 up at the professor and smiled. "I m a-giving theta gents 
 something to look at. They been here bout half ;,n hour, 
 an as near as I can figure, they want to make my ac 
 quaintance, an maybe yours, too." 
 
 "But, why are you counting all that mone> ^" 
 
 "Countin it? Cause it seems to do them, chaps a 
 power of good to watch me. Look into that mirror right 
 in front of me, an see em both in there jest as pJain " 
 
A COUNTRYMAN HELD UP IQI 
 
 1 don t see what you re driving at, Henry." The 
 professor was both puzzled and anxious. 
 
 "Why, I m settin stakes to tie a couple of tin-horn 
 sports to, that s what. Think I been from Bangor, Me., 
 to the City of Mexico, and up the coast to Alaska, and 
 circulatin around through the interior of Denver, Kan 
 sas City, and St. Louis, to come into this metropolis to 
 be robbed, shanghaied, sandbagged, badgered, doped or 
 any of them things?" He went on counting his money 
 quietly and as naturally as though he were safe at home. 
 A fat leather bill-book lay upon a chair beside him, 
 while in his hands were bills of various denominations. 
 John leaned over the back of his chair, not the least 
 interested spectator by any means. 
 
 The two men who were on watch, the oily clerk and 
 several other gentlemen, amongst them some honest men, 
 were being attracted to the money center, when Henry 
 quietly took a pile he had counted off, doubled it up and 
 shoved it into a vest pocket. 
 
 "I reckon that ought* to be enough to bring them, an 
 if they want any more " he got up, "well, they ll come 
 after it I reckon. Let s go an take a look at our bunk." 
 
 When the two were in their room, Henry shook his 
 fist at the Professor, saying, "I wish I had taken that 
 letter away from you. You can say what you please, but 
 I tell you that police officer an this hotel ain t healthy 
 people or places for greenhorns. An I ll bet you " 
 
 "For heaven s sake, man, don t talk so loud ; they can 
 hear you all over the house," John pleaded. 
 
 "I reckon that s right," Henry admitted. "But, I ll 
 be hornswaggled if I ain t gettin mad inside. Why, 
 when them two gents came in, they took special pains to 
 examine every man there, an when they took us in they 
 made signs. I seen it all in that mirror. When you 
 went over to telephone, they grinned and kept an eye on 
 me. Then, I made up my mind to jest draw them out. 
 That s why I was a countin money so all-fired promis 
 cuous when you come back." 
 
 "See here, Henry;" John s voice was serious. "I 
 can t put up any argument against what you say, be 
 cause I don t know any more of the world than a well, 
 than any other country boy. I ve been in the school room 
 
IQ2 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 since I was 5 years -old, but if you are right, let s get 
 away; there are lots of hotels." 
 
 "Not for me," the other exclaimed ; then catching the 
 professor by the shoulders, he asked, "see anything that 
 looks like quit in my eyes? I never in my life refused 
 to give a man value received, an I ve gone up against 
 all the games they ve got. Why, John, if I had on city 
 clothes them guys, who s a waiting for us down in the 
 office, would just take a sneak. It s the clothes they see, 
 an if they want to see more, I m a-going to show them 
 a man the clothes didn t make." 
 
 "You re not going to run into danger, when we have 
 this case on hand, are you?" 
 
 "John, I haven t said anything to you about my sus 
 picions, and I don t want to now. But I believe the 
 only way to find a trace of Stella is to run into danger 
 as you call it." 
 
 "Then you don t believe " 
 
 "Don t ask me what I don t or do believe; you keep 
 close to the police. I m going to keep close to them fel 
 lers down in the office, if it costs a thousand dollars." 
 
 A bell rang ; the indicator pointed to visitors, and the 
 two went down to the office. Henry went to the desk, 
 another clerk, the night man, had come on duty. 
 
 "A couple of gentlemen there they are over by the 
 long table called for you." The guest turned, and fol 
 lowed by John, went over to the long table. 
 
 "Are you the gentlemen?" John inquired. 
 
 "Well, that depends," one of the men answered. "We 
 are detectives, and our agency discovered" he handed 
 each a card "that a disappearance case had been given 
 to the police today. If you are the parties who are in 
 the city to prosecute an investigation, we are certainly 
 anxious to make your acquaintance." 
 
 During this speech, the Professor had stood as one 
 stunned. These were the men he had seen in the mirror 
 earlier in the evening. 
 
 "You fellers certainly know your business," Henry 
 began. "You certainly do; and what might I call you?" 
 
 The man who had not spoken, now got into the game. 
 
 "This is Mr. Johnson, and my name is Brawn, just 
 plain Brown," with a smile. 
 
A COUNTRYMAN HELD UP 193 
 
 "An this is Professor Saunders; and my name s 
 Weaver, gents ; let s set down and talk things over." 
 
 Seated, the four were soon deep in the discussion of 
 the case on hand. 
 
 "While I haven t a word to say against the police," 
 Brown informed them, "I must insist that they have so 
 much routine work on hand that this sort of case don t 
 get the attention it should." 
 
 "I more than suspected that," Henry agreed. 
 
 "I m glad you appreciate the situation," Brown con 
 tinued; "and I assure you our agency goes at things of 
 this sort differently, why, it s our business." 
 
 "How much would it cost us to have you two men 
 oh the case?" the Professor inquired. 
 
 "Well, that depends upon how we work. You see, 
 the agency has detailed us on this case. If we make a 
 bargain with you to-night, we simply report the terms 
 and go ahead." 
 
 "Gee whiz ! They must trust you two," Henry ob 
 served, and he did not fail to catch an expressive look 
 passed between them. 
 
 "Yes, they trust us. In fact, we are the best men on 
 the force ; isn t that about it, Brown ?" said Johnson. 
 
 "About it," Brown admitted. 
 
 "Now, as to terms," he went on. "We could not take 
 up the case for less than thirty dollars per day." 
 
 "Thirty dollars? Why, we can t pay any such price 
 as " the Professor began, when Henry nearly took his 
 breath by declaring: 
 
 "Well, gents, you re hired," and reaching into a vest 
 pocket, he extracted some bills. "Here s the money that 
 pays you up to this time tomorrow night." 
 
 The detectives were almost as much surprised as the 
 Professor. Before they had recovered, Henry was say 
 ing: 
 
 "Now, we got started; just you two remember, I ve 
 got one thousand dollars for each of you on the side, the 
 day you put me and my niece in the same room, if it s 
 only for ten minutes. An* remember this, too, I m go 
 ing to have enough money here by the middle of next 
 week to see this thing through ; so it s up to you to get 
 busy. An here s the plan we go to work on. You two 
 get thirty dollars every night as long as I am satisfied 
 
194 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 you re working. If you find the girl by next Monday 
 and bring her to a place in the city I m going to pick 
 out, you each get one thousand dollars besides your 
 wages. If you get her by next Saturday you get seven 
 hundred, and if it takes two weeks you only get five hun 
 dred dollars." 
 
 The two detectives looked at each other in a manner 
 that conveyed to each, the fact that the other was com 
 pletely at sea. 
 
 Turning to Henry, Brown said : "Mr. Weaver, your 
 offer is a most liberal one, and there are some features 
 about it that are are, well, are unprecedented. If you 
 gentlemen have no objection I should like to have a pri 
 vate conversation with my partner," but he hesitated. 
 "Would you mind producing proof that you can pay this 
 reward or bonus on the spot?" 
 
 For answer, Henry took from a pocket a bunch of 
 letters and books, amongst them a bank book, showing a 
 deposit of six thousand dollars with the Corn Exchange 
 Bank. 
 
 "Now go and have your confab, and come back as 
 soon as you can," he admonished them as they got up. 
 "And in the meantime, as the contract ain t closed, why 
 just hand me that retainer." 
 
 The detectives reached into their pockets, extracted 
 the bills and left the lobby. When they were gone, John 
 seemed to wake from a dream. 
 
 "What does this mean, Henry? I never heard any 
 one call you a rich man, but you certainly " 
 
 "Have just tended to my own business. Why John, 
 what s money to me? I could give them two devils ten 
 thousand dollars and never blink, if they d only get 
 Stella back." 
 
 "But, I thought you were afraid of them; thought 
 they were crooks ?" the puzzled professor protested. 
 
 "So I was; an so I do," the other affirmed. "An 
 I was bound to show them that this time, at least, there ll 
 be more money in it for them ten times over, if they help 
 us, than they could get by tryin to skin me." 
 
 "Mr. Saunders is wanted at the police station," the 
 night clerk announced. "I hope you have your way with 
 them, and Henry I want to thank you." 
 
 "Now, you go along, I ain t doing nothin but making 
 
A COUNTRYMAN HELD UP IQ5 
 
 myself happy in circumventin some folks and a-helping 
 others, but don t you breathe a word." Henry pushed 
 him away. 
 
 In the wine room back of the hotel bar, two men were 
 staring hard at each other over their beer glasses. Each 
 anxious to be sure the other would agree to accept the 
 offer Mr. Weaver had made them, which meant break 
 ing with -those who were slated to divide up all the 
 money they might bunco him out of, or steal from him. 
 To go in to win this one thousand each, they must play 
 a double game. Both were hungry as starved wolves for 
 this pile, dangled before them, and they felt confident, 
 each of his ability to find the girl and that within twen 
 ty-four hours. Yet, neither dared speak. The beer 
 glasses were emptied and refilled, and still not a word. 
 
 "This can t last always," Johnson managed to say 
 after a third glass. The other looked at him keenly. 
 
 "Shall we toss a coin? Heads we go in for the big 
 stake, tails, we play Mike s game." He extracted a dol 
 lar from his pocket, then Johnson put a hand over the 
 coin. 
 
 "If I could trust you," was all he said. 
 
 "I don t owe Mike a cent," Brown answered. 
 
 "Then put up the coin ! Here s my hand, and may 
 the devil fly away with me if we don t win that thousand. 
 But how about Mike? He ll expect his two hundred 
 plunks first off, Monday morning. He knows the man s 
 got em and we re supposed to take em away from 
 him." 
 
 "I know that," Johnson replied, "and I m working 
 my head overtime. Oh, if we could just lay the plant 
 out before Mr. Weaver, but that ud be asking too much. 
 I can t see the way out now ; anyway, we have until to 
 morrow night." 
 
 "Well, let s go up and cinch the thing. It s too good 
 to lose ; and say ; if we get next to the girl by to-morrow, 
 well, we can divide the money and give Mike what he 
 asked." 
 
 Henry Weaver sat dreaming of many things after his 
 detectives and the Professor had gone; the girl he had 
 loved, the daughter who had taken her place in his heart, 
 then of the men who had gone to some quiet spot to re 
 arrange the game to suit the conditions he had proposed. 
 
196 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 He knew his bid was higher than any that had been of 
 fered them by those who employed them to rob him. He 
 argued that even these men would prefer to be honest 
 and deal on the square if the money consideration was 
 greater on the side of honesty than the reward offered 
 for dishonesty. He also knew if these men were in 
 league with criminals and could be won over to his cause, 
 they would be the best servants he might choose. He 
 was still dreaming of the days to come, days in which he 
 might enjoy seeing this old, new love of his living in 
 comfort, when the detectives returned. Johnson wafs 
 spokesman for the pair. 
 
 "Mr. Weaver, we have decided to take your offer, but 
 would like to have you extend the time on that one 
 thousand dollars until Tuesday. You see, this is a case 
 that may take more time." 
 
 "Make it Tuesday, gents ; make it Tuesday, and re 
 member, I m ready to make it even a greater inducement 
 for you to hustle ; I want this girl tomorrow, if possible, 
 the next day sure, and you get five hundred dollars ex 
 tra, five hundred for each of you, if the girl is found by 
 Monday. The one thousand dollars holds good until 
 Tuesday evening. It s one thousand five hundred each in 
 cold cash if you get her by Monday night." 
 
 "One thousand five hundred each!" Johnson ex 
 claimed. "Well, Brown, we don t want to waste any 
 time now." Both men arose. 
 
 Weaver took out his fat bill book. "Gents," he said, 
 "I reckon ready money s as strong a talker where you 
 are going to look for Stella as it is on Wall street, and 
 I want you to be in shape to meet any argument." 
 
 The two looked at each other in a way that said: 
 "This is the limit," and said it plainly. Brown tried to 
 get his faculties to work and failed. Johnson rubbed 
 his hands and smiled, but seemed at a loss for words. 
 
 "Boys, I ve been round the world an know about all 
 the games man or woman gets up against." Henry stood 
 facing the two. "An I want you two to understand to 
 night that I m prepared to play this game to the limit. I 
 want this little girl ; I know about what s happened to 
 her. If she s alive, I want her ; if she s dead, I am a-go 
 ing to have revenge on them that murdered her. I can 
 pay you more to help me than them that s hiding her 
 
A COUNTRYMAN HELD UP 197 
 
 will pay you to help them keep her and rob me." Both 
 men held up protesting hands. That s all right," Henry 
 went on, "that s all right, I ain t askin questions. All 
 I want from you is a square deal. If you had a job 
 planned and ought to carry it out in order to keep the 
 others in the dark, spit it out. I ain t no spring chicken, 
 an I d go through hell to find the girl." The men were 
 uneasy. Here wa-s a man who knew more in a minute 
 than they had supposed he would know when they were 
 through with him. What should they do? If he would 
 consent to be robbed in order to protect them, well, it 
 would give them a better opportunity to handle the case. 
 
 "Well ?" Henry uttered the one word and waited. 
 
 "Damn me, Mr. Weaver, you ve got the best nerve 
 I ever run up against!" 
 
 Johnson extended his hand, but Brown seemed so 
 stunned he did not even look up. 
 
 "Out with it gents ; let s get down to business. Time s 
 going, and I m considerable impatient to see the game 
 moving;" he motioned Brown to a seat. 
 
 "Mr. Weaver, I don t mind telling you we were sent 
 here to get you into a sort of panel game, but, when we 
 found you were on the square and would put up the coin 
 if given a fair show, well, we decided, Brown and I, to 
 throw the other side and stand by you. But, if you 
 would go with us tonight and let them separate you 
 from about three hundred dollars, it would put us on 
 easy. street in this game. We could pass the word that 
 you were out of funds, but would try and get some more 
 and that would end all attempts to bilk you for a time 
 and leave us in the field, then we could get right down 
 to work on the case." 
 
 "That s all that s necessary," their employer informed 
 them. "I ve got something like six hundred dollars here. 
 You each get one hundred to use as you see fit. I ll 
 salt one hundred dollars if you ll excuse me a minute, 
 and I ll go up against this little game as has been fixed 
 for me." 
 
 Brown whistled. "I ll be literally clawed into cat 
 meat, if this isn t a plant ?" He burst out when Weaver 
 had gone to his room. "What do you think of him any 
 way, Bob ? Had us twigged to a fare-you-well from the 
 word go, and up and buys, and sits in to play both ends 
 
198 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 against the middle. Well, I ll be damned!" He jumped 
 up. "I never in my short existence, heard of such a 
 thing." 
 
 "And you ll live another long time before you get 
 next to another like him. Why, Billie, he s simply it. 
 Talk about rigging him Peter at the gate s a slouch 
 beside that old rounder." Brown reached over and 
 tapped his partner on the shoulder. "I feel that wad, 
 something like two thousand in good bills, resting against 
 my heart. Why, it s easy." 
 
 "Ought to be when Weaver is willing to play both 
 sides," Johnson replied as Weaver left the elevator and 
 came toward them. 
 
 "All right, gents ; let s be going. I don t want to pass 
 too much money to you here or they might ask you some 
 mighty embarrassin questions tomorrow." At which 
 speech, a very comprehensive look passed between the 
 detectives as the trio went out into the night. 
 
 If Desk Sergeant Mike had known that Estella Davis 
 was one of Pagan s victims, he would hardly .have set 
 tled upon one of her joints as the place in which Henry 
 Weaver was to be relieved of his money, and could Pagan 
 have safely refused the honor thus thrust upon her, 
 Weaver s two allies would not have found a warm trail 
 so soon. Pagan had remonstrated, but the persuasive 
 powers of Jenks overcame her scruples and things were 
 put in readiness for the reception of the victim. 
 
 It was almost 10 o clock when Tom -bounded into 
 Pagan s room. 
 
 "They landed the guy and he s down in the saloon 
 now. Where s it to be pulled off?" he inquired breath 
 lessly. 
 
 "Over at Mary s place; she s half moved out now, 
 and by the time the police get next, the place will be 
 empty." 
 
 "Who s over there ?" Tom asked. 
 
 " Red Kate and Cora. I ll go right over ; you keep 
 them for a few minutes." 
 
 Pagan went out the back way and Torn returned to 
 the bar. Thirty minutes later, Weaver and the detectives 
 were in Mary s flat on a neighboring street. Pagan 
 wore a veil, and to more effectually hide her identity, sat 
 in a dark corner. Johnson opened the interview by in- 
 
A COUNTRYMAN HELD UP 199 
 
 troducing Mr. Weaver, then he and Brown left the room. 
 
 Who is this girl you want to see?" Fagan asked. 
 
 "Estella Davis/ Weaver replied, his voice shaking 
 with emotion. 
 
 "And if I were to tell you she is in this house, within 
 a few feet of you, what would you say?" 
 
 I d thank God, Madam, and bless you, if you d 
 just let me see her for ten minutes. 
 
 "You want to take her with you, don t you ?" 
 
 "Certainly, I want to take her," he answered. 
 
 "Well;" Pagan s voice was level and firm. "Estella 
 Davis is here, but before you can see her or take her 
 with you, there s a little matter of board -and other ex 
 penses to be settled for." 
 
 "How much ?" 
 
 "Five hundred dollars." 
 
 But woman, I haven t got five hundred dollars, and 
 I don t know as I could get that much." Henry was 
 chuckling inwardly; the first test he had put his men to 
 had not failed. Five hundred dollars was the price set 
 <on his head, they had scaled the price to three hundred 
 and would lie like pirates in substantiation. 
 
 "How much have you ?" 
 
 "Well, I ve got ". he took out his bill book and 
 
 counted out the money; "two hundred and eighty dol 
 lars here and they s," he fumbled in his vest pockets, 
 "twentv-five dollars here, but I got to have five dollars 
 for the hotel anyway." He looked intently at Fagan. 
 
 "Three hundred dollars," Fagan could not hide her 
 greed. "That s less than I ought to take, but if it s all 
 you have " She held out her hand. 
 
 Henry walked over to her, holding the three hun 
 dred dollars between his fingers. 
 
 "If I give you this money, what assurance have I 
 that I get what I m paying for?" shaking the bills. 
 
 "Every assurance," she answered, still reaching for 
 the money. "Didn t you come here with two detectives. 
 What chance have I to play any game on you? ; 
 
 "By crackey; I forgot them detectives." He shoved 
 money, fist and all into a pocket. "What s to hinder me 
 from a-demaiidin that the girl be produced and a-orderin 
 them detectives to take her out of here?" 
 
 Fagan scowled. "Lots to hinder," she assured him. 
 
2OO MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "Thev have no warrants for my arrest nor for this gir? 
 and Ions: before they can get one, I ll have her safe 
 enough, even from your detectives." 
 
 "I m going to call them in ;" he started for the door. 
 
 "Stop right there, Mr. Weaver, you either settle with 
 
 me here and now " She tapped the bell and "Red" 
 
 Kate appeared. "Send Tom and Walter here, and if I 
 tap this bell again, take Estella Davis to the place I 
 told vou of." The woman stood irresolute and seemed 
 on the point of saying something on her own account, 
 when Fagan started toward her, saying, "Get out of here 
 and do as I tell you!" Red Kate disappeared. 
 
 "Now what do you intend to do?" Fagan demanded. 
 "You either fork over, or you don t see the girl. And 1, 
 warn vou, that if you attempt to leave this room, I ll 
 send your Estella where you won t see her in a while." 
 Tom and Walter, two as unprepossessing bouncers as 
 one would meet in a good while, entered the room and 
 stood on either side the door grinning at the gray-haired 
 victim. "What do you say Mr. Weaver? " Fagan 
 stood with outstretched hand, her fingers twitching to 
 feel the money. 
 
 "As it seems to be up to me, I guess about all I need 
 to say can be said by this here money." He pulled out 
 the handful of bills and placed them on Fagan s out 
 stretched palm, while the bouncers grins almost gave 
 forth sound. Fagan took the money to the flaring gas, 
 counted it, and turned to the men : "There s even three 
 hundred here. Is that right, Mr. Weaver?" 
 
 "That s all I got," Weaver answered. 
 
 "All right, sit down and I ll get the girl." 
 
 Faean left the room and was followed by the grin 
 ning bouncers. A key turned in the lock ; Weaver 
 iumoed uo with an odd oath, and bounded to the door; 
 it was locked. He raved, kicked and stormed while the 
 actors in the late drama scuttled from the place like rats 
 from a burning crib. For a time, Weaver had forgotten 
 his r>art. The thought had come to him that Estella 
 mieht have been hidden there, and so wrapped was he 
 in his purpose, that he had forgotten that all of this had 
 been planned, that he was but aiding two of the semi- 
 crkninals of the city to play safe. When it all came back 
 to him, he sat under the flaring gas and buried his face 
 
A COUNTRYMAN HELD UP 2OI 
 
 in his hands. After a time, the key grated and Weaver 
 pulled a revolver from his boot leg and stood waiting. 
 The door opened and Johnson thrust his head in. 
 
 "Coast clear?" he whispered. Weaver pocketed the 
 revolver and nodded. "I hated to leave you so long, Mr. 
 Weaver, but we got onto a warm trail here and I had to 
 help Brown get started." 
 
 "Was she here?" 
 
 "No, not here, but that woman had her, and we know 
 who got her away from Pagan, and Brown s gone on 
 that pipe." Johnson was almost breathless. 
 
 "Now, partner, let s get out of here. But first we 
 must bust the door from this side, so you could get at 
 the key from the outside. Then, I ll make off and you 
 get down on the street and raise the dead. Yell for the 
 police and keep it up until some one conies. Then to 
 morrow morning at 10 o clock you come to that ad 
 dress ;" he handed Weaver a card, but it didn t bear the 
 name of a detective agency, "and be sure no one is on 
 your trail. You see, we don t dare to s how up at the 
 hotel again and no one is to know that you faave anything 
 to do with us." 
 
 "And you think you will get the girl?" Weaver 
 asked. 
 
 "Sure of it, and she ll be right as a rivet when we 
 find her. Mark what I tell you. Weaver, you are go 
 ing to have the pleasure of handing over that three 
 thousand." Johnson laughed. 
 
 "All right, you ll find me happier to hand it over 
 than I was to give that she-devil the three hundred, I 
 can tell you that." 
 
 "Say, that was a plant, and you certainly did the 
 innocent act to the queen s taste." 
 
 The door was broken and Johnson had been gone 
 for fully five minutes when Henry made his way to a 
 hall window overlooking the street and lifted his voice 
 to shout, "Thieves! Thieves! I ve been robbed! I ve 
 been robbed !" 
 
 Midnight traffic halted, pedestrians gathered in knots 
 upon the pavement and in the street. The police were 
 called and soon Henry Weaver was explaining to po 
 lice and citizens just what sort of a game had been 
 worked on him. The door bore evidence; the deserted 
 
2O2 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 flat, more eloquent testimony. At the police station, He 
 told his story and took his way to the hotel. 
 
 Fagan lost no time, but sent a trusted messenger to 
 Madame Vaughn s. The doorkeeper protested that 
 Madame had long since retired; the messenger insisted 
 that there was no time to waste; Madame had to have 
 the message that night. 
 
 "Get Estella Davis out of your house; the police 
 have made a mess of things, and have got me where 
 there s a chance that this girl s relatives will be down on 
 me. Will explain later." This was the message Madame 
 read. She sent for the doorkeeper and asked him if 
 Mr. Johnson was in the house. He was. Well, he must 
 be called at once. Tell him Madame must see him im 
 mediately. Estella was awakened by the ringing of the 
 bell. 
 
 "Wake up, there s a fire or something ;" she reached 
 over and kissed him. 
 
 "What in blazes is that infernal bell?" 
 
 "Oh, don t, James. Shall I get up and find out what s 
 wanted ?" 
 
 "No, you keep still. Maybe they ve pulled the house." 
 He was out of bed and had partially dressed. "Confound 
 that bell; do they think we are dead?" 
 
 "Pulled the house," Estella repeated to herself. "Now 
 I wonder what that means? Can it be fire?" She too 
 got up. 
 
 At the door, Joel was in earnest conversation with 
 some one. He looked around and saw Estella coming 
 toward him. 
 
 "Go back to bed, Stell, the house isn t afire; but 
 Madame wants to see me ; must be something the matter 
 at home." And he was gone. 
 
 "Do you want to keep that plaything of yours ?" was 
 Madame s first question. 
 
 "Want to keep her? Of course, I do. If I didn t, 
 do you suppose I d have let you milk me all this time ?" 
 
 "Well, if you want her, it s up to you to get her 
 away from here before daylight. It s after 12 now, and 
 her folks are in town and Pagan s afraid, so if you want 
 her, you must pay up and get her out." 
 
 "But great snakes, Vaughn, I can t get her out be 
 fore daylight. Hell s fire, I ve been rigging her with 
 
A COUNTRYMAN HELD UP 2O3 
 
 the yarn that you wouldn t let her out of your sight for 
 a month." 
 
 "Tell her I have a tip that the police are going to 
 make a raid on the house early in the morning, and out 
 of regard for her, I want you to take her to some safe 
 place." 
 
 "That s the cheese, Vaughn, great head, eh? Say, 
 you can trust me for whatever balance is due, can t 
 you?" Madame nodded. "I ll need all I ve got with 
 me, to see this thing through." 
 
 In Estella s room, Joel explained about the forth 
 coming raid, and how he could never risk having her, 
 his precious darling, found in such a place, and even 
 Madame felt the same. Estella was soon ready for flight 
 and in her hurry and excitement, forgot even her friend, 
 the only one she had found at Madame s, and at I 
 o clock she was being whirled down town and to one 
 of the great depots, thence on an early train to a small 
 city in a neighboring state. Arrived at which place, 
 James Y. Johnson and wife registered and went to their 
 room. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 MICKEY S RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE. 
 
 Down through the long, soot-blackened shops an 
 army of workers dropped their tools and scudded away 
 to seek their dinner pails, the measure of America s 
 prosperity tis said, before the noon whistle had ceased 
 its clamor. 
 
 Out on the shady side of the casting shop Mickey 
 and Charley found a snug corner and sat down to 
 gether. 
 
 "Well, Mickey," Charley bantered, "have you got 
 that religion we were talking about the other day?" 
 
 "Nixie, not fer mine." The cripple looked up scowl 
 ing, his complement of teeth fastened in a tough hunk 
 of beef. As he pulled, the scowl spread. "You see. 
 Country," he explained, when he had finally swallowed 
 the severed chunk at a gulp, "dem four-flushers out at 
 de meetin says as how a man kin be good all de time, 
 commencin fore breakfas an* never lettin up on de 
 graft till he s sound asleep, an it Stan s f reason dey s 
 liars." 
 
 "Tut, tut, Mickey! You don t know what you are 
 talking about," the other objected, "my mother s a Chris 
 tian, and a good one." 
 
 "Did de old lady pass any ov de dope along t 
 youse?" the boy inquired, scrutinizing his companion 
 gravely. 
 
 Charley smiled, and was about to reply, when 
 Mickey broke in with: 
 
 "Chuck it, Country. Youse maybe knows a heap 
 more bout some things dan I does, but youse don t 
 know how t tip off nothin in de mertropolis, an dat s 
 flat. Dem gospel mills out in de country where dey 
 ain t no great sight ov nothin layin round loose, an no 
 bulls t made de game excitin , an no mollies t help 
 a feller blow de cush, may be on de level dat ain t 
 
 204 
 
MICKEY S RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE 205 
 
 de city, an de city s differ enter, an don t never let dat 
 git outen yer nut see?" 
 
 "But I don t see how it is different, and besides " 
 
 "Now youse s tellin it! Youse don t see, an it s 
 all in usin dese peepers. Ain t I bin born here? An 
 ain t I bin up against all de games on de street? Well, 
 den. Say I jist took t dem gospel meetin s out t de 
 mission, as youse so kindly asks me t attend t , fer a 
 whole week straight. Missed seem a bang-up ballet 
 an a hooker ov a Jessy James show, an passed up de 
 Wild West layout, all t accommodate me frien from 
 de country an say, I m a givin it t youse straight 
 when I says I m damned sorry I didn t go t th shows 
 an let dem sky pilots alone. Are youse wise?" 
 
 A very lame "No" was all the surprised champion 
 of regeneration could muster. That little "no" served 
 to open the vials of Mickey s long suppressed wrath. 
 
 "No, Bourse youse don t. W T hat did them high- 
 collared, baby fingered fellers an der sister mollies tell 
 me th first night I goes out t th mission ?" He paused 
 to gather up the thread of his story. 
 
 "Why, dey says cast yer bread on th waters an 
 she ll come back t youse give yer dollars t th Lord 
 an dem gents was a leggin direct fer him fer they took 
 th coin an youse is sure t git it back ten fold. When 
 I hears that I says, I m in on this here game ef I ve 
 got it doped out right; so I jist nudges a plump old 
 pussy as set by me, an asks what dat gittin back ten 
 fold as dey wais work in off means. She says th Lord 
 pays back ten fer one. That tip suited me t a T, 
 an I plumps a dollar in, an when de dealer sees what 
 I dropped in th basket, he up an inquires how much 
 change I wants youse kin take it frum me, I give 
 him th glassy eye. I hain t no piker, I tells him, an 
 he lays his nice baby hand on me nut, an kind ov slob 
 bers out, God bless youse, God bless youse. Now I 
 calkalate youse hain t a goin t b leve me when I tells 
 youse dat whole darned gospel game is a skin, an 
 they ve got th bull on de beat fixed, all right, all right. 
 I ain t goin t git back nary red [cent I put inter de 
 game, an I dropped three bucks, an waited till th last 
 night fer th drawin t come off. 
 
 "Last night that same feller comes around lookin 
 
206 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 fer more of th mazuma a givin us his little spiel bout 
 castin bread on th water, an a lendin money t th 
 Lord. I d gone de limit, so I up an asks dem when 
 th drawings t come off an what d youse spose they 
 has th* nerve t tell me? Me, as thought I d bin up 
 agircst all de games in de city." Mickey stood before 
 his audience of one deeply interested and somewhat puz 
 zled listener with clinched fists and blazing eyes. 
 
 "Well," Charley hesitated, "I hardly know what they 
 could have told you/ 
 
 "Course youse don t, but I ll tell yer, on th level, 
 Country, ef youse don t know no more about other 
 games dan youse does bout dis gospel business in de 
 mertropolis, I d advise youse not t recommend none ov 
 em t any more ov yer city friends, dat s all." 
 
 "I won t, Mickey, I won t," Charley promised, and 
 then asked, "What did they tell you?" 
 
 "Tell me? Why dey had de nerve t tell me me, 
 Mickey Dougherty, dat I d git me ten t one when I 
 got t heaven. Now what d youse think ov dat fer 
 pure gall? I wanted t have de whole bunch pulled, 
 but de bull s bin fixed all right, all right; fer he says t 
 me when I tells him as I ve bin flim-flammed by some 
 sky pilots as was runnin a skin game, Go chase yer- 
 self, me little rooster, r I ll run youse in/ J: At the 
 close of his speech Mickey sat down and attacked his 
 dinner with renewed vigor, while Charley sat think 
 ing. 
 
 Charley Harris liked the cripple because of his 
 straightforwardness, his avowed friendship, and the 
 many little big-hearted things he was capable of putting 
 through for his friends. If the whole truth must be 
 told he liked him as well for his sturdy defense of his 
 philosophy of life, even if it did hold to the ugly, twisted 
 ethics of the semi-criminal world in which the boy had 
 been chained since birth. On one point his mind was 
 made up quickly. Turning to Mickey he said: 
 
 "Mickey, since I recommended the game guaran 
 teed it, you might say I feel in duty bound to see that 
 none of my friends lose money." He reached into a 
 pocket and drew out a handful of silver. "Let s see; 
 you put up three dollars," he had to smile at the look 
 of perplexity on Mickey s face, "and while I can t make 
 
MICKEY S RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE 207 
 
 good that gospel outfit s promise of ten to one, I am 
 willing to put up five dollars to " 
 
 "No youse don t," the cripple interposed, "I ain t no 
 welsher, Country. I took de tip an played it on me 
 own dope, an I don t want " 
 
 "Here, you young limb of Satan, take the money, 
 it belongs to you." Charley reached over as he spoke 
 and dumped the silver into Mickey s dinner pail. "Just 
 to hear your experience in your first attempt to get 
 religion is worth that much to me," he added, and as 
 Mickey still showed signs of rebellion, he went on, 
 "Mickey, old man, I want you for a friend; between 
 friends a money debt should never stand for a moment 
 longer than is absolutely necessary and I owed you 
 that five-spot as much as though I had borrowed it 
 from you." 
 
 A grimy, greasy hand was held out, and as Charley 
 grasped it Mickey whispered hoarsely, "Country, youse 
 is white, an I m goin t call youse Charley like th rest 
 ov th gang does." 
 
 Charley laughed, and Mickey made good in his next 
 speech. 
 
 "On de level, Co Charley, I didn t give up de 
 gospel jist becos dem guys was a runnin a con game 
 on de money end ov de biz. Youse see, it s dis way: 
 I knows dey s lots ov hold-outs in all de games, an 
 dey s some dat s square, an ef de rest ov de gospel game 
 had a bin on de level why shucks ! I d a hunted up 
 a square game an played me coin, but de whole works 
 is rotten." 
 
 "How s that?" Charley asked. 
 
 "Why dis way : De main guy says all anybody frum 
 a molly t a porchclimber has got ter do is t say, I ve 
 foun Jesus, r some sich magic biz as dat, an to oncet 
 all de sins dey ever did is washed away. Now youse 
 kin take it frum me dat I carried dat aroun in me nut 
 till de load hurt frightful. Yes, sir, I carried dat fer 
 three days an nights fore I chucked it. Why, tain t 
 reasonable t spose dey s anybody as is runnin sich a 
 bargain counter up to heaven, an it ain t no square 
 deal no how. Fer why, here s me an I ain t had no 
 body t put me wise t dis bargain counter biz till youse 
 comes an butts in an ef de thing s on de level, an 5 
 
208 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 they ain t no other way ov my gettin inter heaven cept 
 I goes through de gospel mill why, ef I d a croaked 
 last month, r when I was hurt dat time, wouldn t I a 
 gone plump t hell? An ef I d gone t that bargain sale 
 an got religion an hollered I ve got it! I ve got it- 
 like I hears them a whoopin it up out dere, an didn t 
 have t make good t all de folks what I swiped things 
 frum, an lied to, an so forth, seems t me de thing 
 wouldn t wash. Jist seems that there way t me. Seems 
 t me God ud say, Youse is a purty cheap skate, son, 
 seems that there way t me. But one ov dem singin 
 fellers made it plain dat all a guy has ter do t git right 
 in a front row in their heaven is t fess up. Jist fess 
 up, an God ud let de meanest cuss in Chi crowd right 
 up t de desk an begin singin ." 
 
 "In the name of all the saints, what sort of a crowd 
 did you get into?" Charley demanded, and inwardly re 
 solved to go out and see for himself. 
 
 "They was mostly batty, Cou Charley, an three of 
 dem old bats jist did deir turn de night I puts in me 
 second buck why, one ov dem had killed his wife by 
 inches. He says so hisself, an dey ain t nobody a* 
 givin him th third degree, neither, it was most as 
 good as a play. The next cuss as comes out had blast- 
 feemed, whatever dat is, an had robbed a sick pard ov 
 hisn ov thousands ov dollars in a minin deal, an dem 
 galoots never did have t make good t nobody but God. 
 Nixie fer deirs ! All any ov dem had t do was t say, 
 Jesus, I b leve, r some sich rot as dat, an all deir 
 cussed doin s was washed away in de twinklin ov a 
 eye an God s eye at dat. 
 
 "When dey gits all through a spoutin an dem sis 
 ters has quit amenin an shakin dem bats mitts, an 
 things gits still I up an asks de one as robbed his pard 
 ef th pard was alive. He gits up an says, a-turnin 
 to them sisters: Dear sisters an brothers, he s alive 
 t th flesh but dead t God. He s still in sin, an hasn t 
 found th blood of Christ a balm t his soul, r some 
 sich flummydiddle as dat. 
 
 "Then I asks, fer I was interested, an besides I 
 had money in de game I says : Mister, when youse 
 got religion in your soul did youse pay dat pard th 
 money youse stole frum him? Youse ought t have 
 
MICKEY S RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE 209 
 
 seen dem old mollies turn up deir noses at me. An he 
 says, No, me young frien , I didn t need t do dat, fer 
 God fergived de debt. Say/ I asks him, Mid God 
 really an truly pass him th coin ? " 
 
 "Say, Mickey, what are you giving me? You didn t 
 butt in on those gospel people like that, did you?" 
 Charley asked, smiling. 
 
 "Sure t ing I did. Ain t I got me money on de 
 game ? An , you d never b leve it less n I told youse, dat 
 geezer as robbed his pard tries t make out he don t 
 know nothin bout what I m a-tryin to pass t him 
 till a old mollie puts it t him straight, an den he says 
 to me, No, me brother, God does not handle th filthy 
 lucre, an so far as me poor sin-cussed pard s con- 
 sarned, I m fraid his portion in th life beyond th 
 grave ll be in th lake ov fire/ an th dirty welsher 
 begins t leak somethin dreadful. 
 
 "I up an asks quick as a wink, Say, Mister Whats- 
 yername, don t youse think now dat youse is bin put wise 
 t de gospel game, ef youse was ter take th money 
 youse smouched frum yer pard, an jist handed it t 
 him, an den told him bout this here new deal, dat he d 
 take de tip? " 
 
 "He was plum beat out, Charley, an I d a had de 
 count on him in no time but some ov dem old hen sis 
 ters who s gone soft on his nibs begins t sing Jesus, He 
 Paid it All/ an th guy gits his wind an stands there 
 a-pattin his hands an a-smilin t dem mollies as fixed 
 it fer him. But I just stood dere a-waitin fer th next 
 round, even ef dey did try t call me down. 
 
 "When dem old hens quits a-cacklin long nuff t 
 give him a chanst he hes his story all fixed, an turns 
 t me an says, Th song tells th whole story, me young 
 frien Jesus paid it all all t him I owes sin had left 
 a grimy stain but she s washed witer n snow/ an* a lot 
 ov slush like dat. 
 
 "When I goes fer him hard an wants t know 
 things, he says it don t make no kind ov diff rence what 
 a bloke has done murder, steal, lie, any ole thing 
 goes. He don t have t square hisself with nobody fer 
 nothin . An jist as soon as he s got deir kind ov re 
 ligion he s good fer a scalper s ticket straight t heaven. 
 Den ef th poor cuss he stole frum an lied to r did 
 
2IO MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 anything like a thousan other devlish, low-down, mean 
 things to, still stays mad an wants a square deal, wants 
 this here religious bloke t do th square thing by him 
 on this here earth why, it s th feller as wants de square 
 deal as goes plump t hell, an th welsher goes t 
 heaven. An th times dey has up dere! Nuttin t do 
 but prance round in circus close, an eat an sing, an* 
 drink milk outen a river dat flows right by de captain s 
 desk say, deys got a warm pipe, all right, all right." 
 Mickey got up, carefully, placed a battered lid on an 
 equally battered dinner pail and looked off into the blue 
 as he added: 
 
 "Dem gosple folks takes dope, an I wouldn t be 
 s prised ef dey was pulled fer hittin th pipe one ov 
 dese here days dey s nuttin to it. Youse may hev 
 nuther kind ov religion in de country, but it stan s t 
 reason dat dey hain t no God whose goin t send the 
 feller as has bin robbed an had other things done t 
 him t hell, an give th robber, an murderer a nice 
 easy graft in heaven, jist cause he blubbers a few min 
 utes an saddles all his cussedness off onto Jesus Christ 
 why, I ain t God, an I ll be damned ef Mickey 
 Dougherty ud put up with sich a gummy mess ov 
 welshers an four-flushers as dem people is. Bet yer 
 life, I wouldn t! Ef I was God I d say, Here, youse 
 reprobates, fore youse gits t prancin round a-tellin 
 what all I m a-goin t do for youse, youse git out an 
 square up with dem as youse robbed an murdered an 
 things. Bet yer life I d make em hit de grit, an as 
 they went down th line I d give em me toe an tell 
 em I wasn t runnin no bargain counters fer blokes ov 
 deir kidney; dem is things Mickey Dougherty d do ef 
 he was God." 
 
 Then the whistle blew. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 A WORKER S DEATH. 
 
 The throb and hum of systematized industry in the 
 long .casting room at Holdon s was at full tide when 
 something went wrong with the head-block on one of 
 the great side cranes. A mass of molten metal in "No. 
 i" was ready to be drawn, and the cable was found to 
 be caught in the block, thus preventing the swinging of 
 the big ladle to receive its charge. The foreman, almost 
 beside himself, in an emergency that threatened both 
 danger to the men and the loss of the charge as well, 
 ordered the electric traveling crane brought down from 
 the other end of the long building. At the same time 
 he ordered the mast of the side crane thrown over close 
 to the girder that carried the traveling crane, in order 
 that a workman might get at the head-block after being 
 carried up on the electric crane. 
 
 As the crane came down the shop on its two broad 
 tracks, Price happened to look in, and seeing all the men 
 at "No. I," together with some of the other employes 
 in that end of the shop standing idle, he rushed in and 
 demanded of the foreman at "No. i" what he was do 
 ing. The oath that accompanied the superintendent s 
 question caused an ugly look to settle over Williams 
 face, and he did not lift his eyes as he gave the in 
 formation asked for. 
 
 "Here," Price shouted, beckoning one of the men. 
 "You, Johnson. Come, be lively. Get hold of that 
 chain and when he pulls you up high enough crawl 
 through the cage and out over the track, and see what s 
 the matter with the cursed thing. Hurry !" 
 
 Johnson had no sooner caught the chain and gotten 
 his foot in the loop he had formed for it, than Price 
 gave the signal to hoist, and the worker was on his 
 way to the girder above. 
 
 Clambering up through the cage he made his way 
 211 
 
212 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 over the trucks of the crane, and perched upon the track 
 was soon at work getting the cable back into its groove. 
 He was probably two minutes at the job when Price, 
 fuming at the delay this mishap was causing, bellowed 
 an ill-sounding name at him and advised him to hurry. 
 The superintendent s lips had hardly formed the last 
 brutal word, when Johnson signaled Williams that the 
 job was finished, and the next instant was crawling over 
 the trucks of the great crane. 
 
 The operator in his cage under the crane could not 
 see the man above as he swung himself past the for 
 ward wheels of the truck, so when Price gave him a 
 signal to move the crane back he threw on the current. 
 Instantly there came to the ears of the workers a scream 
 of agony, and as they looked up Johnson was seen strug 
 gling between the trucks. The operator threw off the 
 current and stood with blanched cheeks and trembling 
 body looking at Price for orders. 
 
 When caught between the trucks Johnson had fallen 
 face down. His legs lay across the track ; his body 
 supported by his hold upon a brace rod he had caught as 
 he fell. W T hen the men below looked up at his first cry 
 they were quick to see his perilous position and called 
 out to him to hold on. 
 
 "My God, my God 1" he kept crying, while his blood 
 streamed down from the girder and formed a little pud 
 dle on the hard packed clay floor. The men looking up 
 into his staring eyes, shuddered as they saw him shaken 
 with pain saw his struggles to release his right leg 
 from the crushing weight of the truck. Charley Harris 
 and Mickey had quitted their work and rushed down to 
 the furnace at the first agonized cry. 
 
 Coming up behind the superintendent, Charley 
 touched him on the arm and asked: "Why isn t some 
 une sent up to help him?" 
 
 Price turned, scowling, and throwing up his hand 
 demanded to know who in hell was running the plant. 
 The operator understood his motion to mean that he 
 \vas to go ahead, and with shaking nerves turned on the 
 current. 
 
 The crunching of bone under tons of steel, and the 
 cry of a human soul in torment answered Price s ques 
 tion as Johnson s body came plunging down head first, 
 
::: : 
 
A WORKER S DEATH 213 
 
 a clear fall of twenty feet. In unison with the impact 
 of the worker s body on the hard floor a groan went up 
 from the throats of a hundred men. 
 
 A moment of silence, save for the footfalls of run 
 ning men, fell upon those within sight of the tragedy. 
 The maimed form lying at Charley s feet did not move. 
 He fell upon his knees as one of the men brought the 
 legs, which had fallen a little distance from the body, 
 and pulled Johnson s head around until he could see 
 his face, while Mickey, crouched by the body of the man 
 who had been his friend, looked squarely into the eyes 
 of the man he believed was responsible for the death 
 of the worker. 
 
 "Well?" Price uttered this one word, a question. 
 
 Charley, looking up, answered: "Dead," and began 
 straightening the body out, but paused as he heard Price 
 shouting at the men who had crowded up from all parts 
 of the shop: 
 
 "What do you men think this is, a holiday? Get 
 back to your work, all of you. Get back, I say!" 
 
 "I can git back quick enough without you putting 
 your hands on me," a burly moulder protested as Price 
 pushed him back. The men were moving back slowly 
 when Price turned to Charley: 
 
 "Get up from there and go back to your job," he 
 ordered, curtly. 
 
 "But some one ought to stay with him the coro 
 ner," Charley insisted, and was interrupted by the super 
 intendent. 
 
 "Coroner be blowed." Noting that Charley seemed 
 unconvinced, he proceeded to enlarge upon the theme. 
 
 "No sniveling coroner s jury gets to sit on this case. 
 And, my man, my advice to you is to forget it ; do you 
 understand ?" 
 
 "No, we don t want no coroner s jury on dis here 
 case," Mickey s shrill voice piped up. "Not when Mick 
 ey Dougherty d swear de supe killed him. No, we don t 
 want no " 
 
 "What s that, you young devil?" Price panted, as he 
 made an effort to put hands on the cripple. 
 
 Safe at the feet of the dead man Mickey replied: 
 "Jist what I sed, d youse hear me! Youse killed him, 
 an dese rfbre men knows it." The cripple had taken 
 
214 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 his e>es off the superintendent for an instant as he 
 waved a hand toward the men. In that instant Price 
 had cleared the body at a single bound, and before any 
 one of the men could interfere, had knocked the boy 
 down and was kicking him viciously, when Charley, 
 with an oath, his first in many months, pulled Price 
 away from the boy. By this time the workers were 
 crowding back to the scene of the morning s tragedy, 
 and among them came the big moulder who had objected 
 to being pushed back but a few minutes before. When 
 he saw the boy lying motionless on the floor, he pushed 
 his way through the crowd until he stood in front of 
 the superintendent. There was murder in his eyes; a 
 twitching of the muscles that held his jaws set; his 
 great hands drawn into knots; the swelling muscles of 
 his arms showing in ridges under the skin, and a hun 
 ger in him for the blood of the man a wise providence 
 had given him as a task master. Price caught that look 
 and did not resist when Charley pushed him out through 
 the crowd and toward a side door. 
 
 In the meantime some of the men had taken Mickey 
 out, and as Charley and Price came through the door 
 way the first thing they saw was the little group of men 
 about the cripple. Price had gotten his nerve back by 
 this time, so, shaking off the hold Charley had kept upon 
 him, he went over to the group. Pushing one of the 
 men aside he bent over the boy. 
 
 Quick as a flash Mickey s two hands went up; one 
 caught Price by the hair, while the nails of the other 
 were drawn down over the superintendent s face, tearing 
 the skin and bringing blood in streams. With a bellow 
 of rage and pain Price straightened up, bringing the 
 boy with him. 
 
 A dozen men, Charley amongst them, interfered, and 
 Mickey, his hold broken, went limp as a rag and was 
 tenderly laid upon the ground. Three of the men had 
 Price by the arms, holding him back from the boy, when 
 Carson, the big moulder, pushed his way into the fray 
 once more, and, pointing toward the office, said to Price : 
 
 "You better move along, mister man you can fire 
 rne to-morrow, but if you ain t out of my sight in two 
 
215 
 
 minutes, I ll give you what you gave Johnson, damn 
 you." 
 
 The men dropped their hold upon the superintend 
 ent s arms, stepped back and waited for the fight. Price 
 took one swift look at the moulder, and turning on his 
 heel started for the office. 
 
 Til make it hot for you all of you," was his part 
 ing shot, as he moved off, sopping up the blood from his 
 face in a handkerchief. 
 
 Moran, the foreman under whom both Charley and 
 Mickey worked, had seen the whole of the trouble. As 
 Price left he came out of the shop and after examining 
 Mickey, turned to the men. 
 
 "Go back to your work, men," he called out, and add 
 ed, "none of you need be afraid of trouble from the 
 office if you let things drop where they are." 
 
 As the men went back to their tasks, one red-headed 
 fellow laughed. "Bet yer life they won t stir a bad 
 mess. Old Holdon couldn t find another such stinker 
 as Price if he hunted hell over with a fine-toothed 
 comb." 
 
 "Yes, and Price couldn t stay a day if they let this 
 killing be looked into," another observed. 
 
 One of the men who worked on Mickey s shift 
 picked up his shovel, jammed it into a sand pile, spit on 
 his hands, and, as he lifted the shovel of sand, chuckled : 
 "God, but Mickey s got th nerve. Didn t he play that 
 just right?" 
 
 "Yes," said Carson, "and if that low-lived hound 
 so much as puts a finger on him again I ll smash him if 
 it s the last day s work I do in th world." 
 
 The man at the shovel looked up, nodded approval, 
 and went on filling his flask. 
 
 Outside Moran was saying to Charley Harris: "I 
 guess you had better stay with him until he s able to 
 navigate He s a game little cuss always was willing 
 to fight anything in the shops but I never thought he d 
 be game enough t put his mark on Price, though they s 
 been bad blood between them for a long time." 
 
 When Moran had gone into the shop Charley went 
 back to the cripple and asked him how he was coming. 
 
 "I se all stoved in, Charley; but I guess they hain t 
 nothing serious dat s broke. Darn his dirty picter! I 
 
2l6 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 hain t even yet." He rolled over on his side. "It hurts 
 where he kicked me in th slats, when I was down," he 
 observed, screwing his face up to take the edge off the 
 pain. 
 
 As Charley sat on the grass beside him wondering 
 what was to happen next, the thought came to him that 
 he had been in a sort of maze from the very beginning 
 of the trouble, all of it seemed wrong, not one of the 
 men had acted as he had been taught men should act 
 in such an emergency. The brutality of Price Mick 
 ey s grit Carson s bull-dog jaws the sheeplike docil 
 ity of the men his own shortcomings the white- faced 
 operator the death cry of the tortured man the drip 
 ping blood the inhumanity of it all it was all sicken- 
 ingly, disgustingly, wholly unbelievable to one who had 
 not experienced it. And a nightmare of uncertainties 
 to one who had witnessed it. Johnson s death had re 
 sulted, as he believed, from Price s or the crane oper 
 ator s blunder or both. He also felt that Mickey s 
 charge that Price had killed Johnson, while it was a bit 
 hasty, still had something of reason behind it, and that 
 thought coupled with a remembrance of the superintend 
 ent s callousness, and his evident reluctance to have any 
 thing like an investigation into the tragedy of the 
 morning, all served to puzzle him. Neither could he 
 understand the men. Johnson s companions, the men 
 upon his job, not one of them but had gone back to his 
 work without a backward look when Price had ordered 
 them to go, adding oaths to his insulting speech what 
 sort of men were they? Only one man s part in the 
 whole affair appealed to him that man was Carson, 
 the big moulder. As he thought how Carson s great 
 hands twifched, how white his lips were, and how hard 
 and steady his eyes gleamed and glinted as he pushed 
 his way up to the superintendent, he sighed yes, if 
 he had it to over again he would let Carson half kill 
 the brute. 
 
 Looking down at Mickey, whose old man s face was 
 twisted into an ugly scowl, Charley told himself there 
 was but little comfort to the peacemaker who inter- 
 fered in a man s fight, and especially when he didn t 
 know the first rule of the game. 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 HOLDON GIVES ADVICE. 
 
 Wherever one goes in our industro-social life he 
 comes face to face with the one great fact developed 
 by our nineteenth and twentieth century grabble for 
 dollars the fact that the more one struggles for con 
 trol of things material the less confidence he will have 
 in the honor and integrity of his fellow men. To be 
 come rich is to lose respect for the old-time sense of 
 honor that once held men to plighted word, even to 
 death. To-day the citizen who measures his wealth by 
 six figures or more hires detectives to watch over his 
 precious life. 
 
 Find two employers who trust each other to-day; 
 then leave them to the exigencies of the struggle; go 
 back in ten years and find but one employer ; this is the 
 history of our industrial growth. The employer who 
 has disappeared has been over-reached. The man who 
 has the business is the one who refused to be ruled by 
 word of honor. 
 
 A perfected spy system is growing up to meet the 
 demand for men to watch these other men whom we 
 distrust. A jealous spouse hires a private detective. A 
 captain of industry hires a whole detective agency. An 
 employer of labor calls for assistance from a union spy 
 furnisher, and gets a number of men who commit per 
 jury in order that the employer may know what his 
 workmen do in their secret (?) meetings. A railway 
 employs spotters to protect its dividends from the in 
 roads of conductors and other worthy employes who 
 believe it no crime to "swipe" things and money from 
 a railway. In every shop, factory, mill, or other in 
 dustrial gathering together of labor we find the cheap 
 lickspittle, who carries tales from the job to the boss, 
 and by so doing gains a short-lived opportunity to 
 bask in the purchased smiles of the employer. 
 
 217 
 
2l8 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 Johnson s body had hardly ceased quivering when 
 the news had reached Holdon as he sat in his office 
 intent upon the morning paper. Holdon did not care 
 to make a personal investigation, but he did not think 
 it good policy to have the body left in sight of the men 
 for too long a time. After waiting some time for 
 Price to report, he took up the telephone, and calling 
 up the yard boss, instructed him to take three men and 
 remove the body to a tool house at the back of the 
 plant. 
 
 The laborers were carrying their burden away when 
 Carson ordered Price to move on. When the superin 
 tendent complied with that none too gentle request he 
 had no intention of allowing the office force to see him 
 until he had been patched up a bit. He sneaked into 
 his office by the back way and busied himself with water 
 and court-plaster. For every look in the mirror his 
 anger grew. When he had in a measure Covered the 
 worst of the smarting scratches he called up Moran 
 and ordered him to discharge Carson, Harris, and even 
 the cripple. As he took the receiver from his ear 
 Moran was asking him to wait a minute. The minute 
 was long, and at the end of it came this laconic mes 
 sage from the foreman: 
 
 "I won t fire the men until I hear from you again 
 you may change your mind after you ve seen the old 
 man he s been asking for you says keep everything 
 quiet." 
 
 Price was furious, thinking Moran had reported to 
 Holdon. He was about to insist that the men be dis 
 charged forthwith, when a clerk began pounding upon 
 his door. 
 
 What s wanted now?" he demanded. 
 
 "Mr. Holdon wants to see you." 
 
 "Tell him I ve got to go downtown at once. I 
 ,can t " 
 
 "But he said AT ONCE," the clerk shouted from the 
 other side of the locked door. Even Price knew that 
 Holdon s "AT ONCE" would never be discounted by 
 a hired man but once, even though he held the office 
 of superintendent. He hung up the receiver, satisfied 
 the clerk that he would attend, took another look at 
 his patched face, swore he would have satisfaction out 
 
HOLDON GIVES ADVICE 219 
 
 of the three hands at fault, and started for the presi 
 dent s office. 
 
 Between his office and that of the president all of 
 the office force that could do so took a good look at the 
 superintendent, offering another illustration of the spy 
 system. Practically every man and woman in the office 
 had been informed that some one out in the "works" 
 had whipped the superintendent Some had him half 
 killed, others told how a number of the men had pound 
 ed him, and all had the story in one form or another. 
 Yes, they knew a man had been killed, but that was a 
 much more common occurrence than the pummeling of 
 a superintendent, consequently the story of the killing 
 did not produce even a ripple, while the lesser tragedy 
 filled the office with excitement. 
 
 "Well, you ve been in an accident, have you?" was 
 Holdon s greeting as Price entered the office. As he 
 asked the question Holdon turned to Moses and inti 
 mated that his presence, could be dispensed with. 
 
 "Yes, something of an accident," Price answered as 
 he took a chair, "but I fancy the three men I ordered 
 Moran to fire will not be so ready for accidents in the 
 future." 
 
 "Whom did you discharge?" 
 
 "Why, the three who caused all the trouble Harris, 
 Carson, and that little devil of a cripple." Price had 
 gotten to his feet and was gesticulating with some show 
 of temper, when Holdon said: 
 
 "Sit down, sit down, Price, you are either too angry 
 or too excited over this matter." After a moment of 
 silence he went on: "They tell me Mickey gave you 
 those scratches." 
 
 "Yes, and by I ll half kill him when I catch 
 
 him outside. I don t care if he is a cripple," Price 
 stormed out. 
 
 Holdon had reached for the phone. As he took 
 down the receiver he remarked: "I don t think you 
 are in just the right mood to deal with men, besides, 
 Johnson s death is the fourth within two weeks, and if 
 those men are discharged to-day, especially after your 
 little set-to with them, there ll be hell to pay as soon as 
 they can get to the right folks with their story. 
 
 He turned to the phone. "Give me Moran, please," 
 
22O MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 he called, and looking squarely at Price asked: "Did 
 the three men you ordered Moran to discharge see 
 Johnson killed?"" 
 
 Price nodded assent. 
 
 "That being the case, don t you think you had best 
 tell Moran you were a little hasty, and for him not to 
 say anything to the men?" It was put in form of a 
 question, but Price understood it as a command. Flush 
 ing to the roots of his hair, he reached over, and tak 
 ing the instrument off Holdon s desk, stammered out 
 the will of the master touching the men when Moran 
 answered the call. 
 
 He had taken his seat again in none too good 
 humor, when Holdon surprised him by saying: 
 
 "Price, I gave you credit for a lot more sense than 
 you have shown in handling this affair." Price at 
 tempted to justify his conduct, but Holdon waved it 
 aside. "Nonsense, man, I tell you you lost your head, 
 and I am more put out by it than you can think, for 
 I intended to leave the business in your hands entirely." 
 Price looked up, then down, biting his lips in vexation. 
 "Yes," Holdon went on, "I had expected to go to 
 Europe within two months, but " 
 
 "It will all blow over sooner than that," Price ven 
 tured. 
 
 "Yes, this incident will, but how about the next 
 one?" 
 
 "The next one won t happen," the superintendent 
 announced confidently. "You see, I had the Johnson 
 accident on my nerves, and with the interference of that 
 young Harris, and the cripple s blurting out that I d 
 murdered Johnson well, I did lose my head but you 
 must remember I wasn t at the head of the plant you 
 want to consider that, Mr. Holdon." Holdon nodded 
 and Price continued his explanation. "It was enough 
 to rattle any one, and the three who brought on the 
 after trouble can be gotten rid of one at a time as 
 soon as you think it safe, then we won t need to fear 
 another such exhibition." 
 
 "Mickey stays," Holdon interrupted at this point, 
 "and as for Harris, I want you to get to be the best 
 friend he has in the world." At Price s look of as 
 tonishment the magnate chuckled. "Yes, sir, his best 
 
HOLDON GIVES ADVICE 221 
 
 friend. Why, man, he s got a machine an automotic 
 moulder and it s worth a million. I want you to get 
 next to it, and trust me for the rest. Yes, sir, you want 
 to see him to-day before he gets time to think things 
 over and get set against you. Tell him you are sorry 
 sorry over the whole business, Johnson s death and all 
 the rest of it and you can t make yourself too sorry if 
 you know what s good for you." 
 
 "Well, I ll be darned! That country kid? Are you 
 sure?" 
 
 "Did you ever know me to be anything other than 
 sure?" Holdon asked, a self-satisfied smile lighting up 
 his face. "I ve had him in here three times and had a 
 man with him nearly every evening for a month yes, 
 I m sure." Price whistled, and smiled his worship of 
 the superior man. 
 
 "Then about Mickey we will just have to put up 
 with him; and my advice would be to let him alone." 
 
 "I don t know but it s impertinent," Price qualified, 
 "but I d like to know " 
 
 "Know why Mickey s to stay?" Price nodded, 
 "Well, it s this way: my wife and *Bee were down 
 here the afternoon Mickey got hurt. No. i* blew out; 
 we had some green hands on, and I guess they over 
 charged her. Wife and Bee were just entering the 
 foundry when the thing happened. Mickey was the 
 first one they saw carried out and the last one, too, I 
 guess." He looked up at Price as he paced back and 
 forth. "You know how women are," he continued, 
 "they were both badly frightened, and the boy was in 
 a bad way. To make a short story of it, my wife 
 never recovered from the shock, not in all the years, 
 and when she was dying her last thought was for the 
 crippled little Irishman. Somehow she got hold of the 
 story that the nine deaths that day were due to the 
 fact that I had locked out my old men and was trying 
 to run the plant with a lot of bums and pickups she 
 never forgave me." 
 
 Price sat down and Holdon remained silent, look 
 ing out across the stretch of prairie seen through the 
 window. "I promised her that so long as I controlled 
 here Mickey should have a job and it wasn t a bad 
 bargain." He got up, and after drumming on the win- 
 
222 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 dow for a minute, turned to the superintendent. "I 
 don t like to look at him he s a constant reminder that 
 had I given in to the men that time my wife might 
 be with me to-day." 
 
 Price bowed his head in silence, and Holdon, after 
 fumbling among his papers for a time, said: "As to 
 the other man, Carson, I think you said, I don t believe 
 we should discharge him either. He s been with us 
 a long time and isn t too old. He s industrious, a splen 
 did workman, and, besides, he is safe not a bit of 
 unionism or Socialism about him. He owns a little 
 home, and that cinches him. Take him all around, he 
 is a man to tie to in case of trouble." He paused as 
 though expecting the superintendent to reply, but as 
 he seemed loath to do so resumed: "My advice would 
 be for you to fix things with Harris better get him 
 into your office and be good and sorry it will pay 
 you. Then come to me." 
 
 "Very well." Price managed to get these words out 
 before he got to the door, but they came hard. 
 
 "And forget the other two," he heard as he started 
 out between the rows of desks, where, by the magic 
 art of tale building, the story regarding his encounter 
 in the shop had grown considerable since he passed 
 that way before. 
 
 The day after the killing neither Charley nor Mickey 
 appeared at the works, and that fact was known to 
 Holdon at eight-thirty, just five minutes after he en 
 tered his office. Price was sent for, but could throw 
 no light on the subject. Then a messenger was sent 
 post-haste to Mickey s address with orders to phone 
 the office if he succeeded in locating either of the miss 
 ing men. 
 
 Holdon was not in an overly good humor with his 
 superintendent, and showed it. There was a chance 
 that the men had gone to enter complaint with the city 
 authorities. There had been a number of deaths in the 
 big plant within the month and none of them had been 
 reported as the law required. Besides, two of the men. 
 who had been known to be friendless foreigners, had 
 been buried inside the company s grounds to save ex 
 penses and possible suits which might have been in 
 stituted by hungry lawyers. This had been Johnson s 
 
HOLDON GIVES ADVICE 223 
 
 fate, and Holdon knew it. He also knew it would be 
 exceedingly awkward if the authorities should demand 
 that the company produce his remains, for it was very 
 doubtful whether the half-drunken negroes had been 
 over careful in the execution of their grewsome task 
 the night before. 
 
 From contemplating possibilities, Holdon turned to 
 Price. 
 
 "What did they do with Johnson?" he asked. 
 
 The superintendent had been thinking of possibilities 
 also, and turned uneasily in his chair. It took two 
 efforts to get his throat cleared before he attempted an 
 answer. 
 
 "Why, after I left you yesterday Madden came in 
 and wanted to know what to do with him, saying there 
 wasn t any friends to look after the body, so I told 
 him to do the same as he had with Brootsky." (Broot- 
 sky had been disposed of two weeks prior to John 
 son s taking off.) 
 
 "Has he reported to you this morning?" Holdon 
 demanded. 
 
 "No, I suppose he thought there was no use to re 
 port he never has 
 
 The telephone bell. 
 
 "You, Tracey?" "Yes both there? Why didn t 
 they report this morning? Not feeling well? all 
 right." 
 
 "There, that s off my mind," with a smile, the mag 
 nate turned from the phone. 
 
 "Price, did you see Harris yesterday," he inquired, 
 then added, "Oh, I forgot that you might be interested 
 in knowing that those two friends of yours are safe. 
 They will report for work as soon as Mr. Mickey is 
 fit to scratch again." 
 
 Price was too well pleased to learn that they were 
 not looking for officers to investigate the Johnson mat 
 ter to take exception to the magnate s banter, so smiled 
 a sickly smile as he answered that he had not seen 
 Harris for the very good reason that he had gone home 
 
 with Mickey. 
 
 * # # * * # 
 
 What did they do with Johnson? 
 
 There is a little flaxen-headed woman on the way 
 
224 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 from Sweden who one of these days would give her 
 very life for the answer to that question. Yes, her life. 
 And it is about all she has to give. She has but little 
 more than enough money to pay her way across. What 
 did they do with Johnson? Big-hearted John. He left 
 her to try his fortune in the Great Nation the famed 
 home of brave men a country all free. He told her 
 for the hundredth time as her tears fell at thought of 
 parting : 
 
 "Hilda, you are one little goose. Will you not see, 
 in that Great Land a man may have a chance such a 
 chance ! And it is only for so little a time, my loved 
 one; only so little a time. Soon I shall send for you. 
 Then we shall be Americans. Think of that, Hilda, 
 and dry those sweet, pretty eyes; we shall be Ameri 
 cans !" 
 
 She is coming. How many Hildas have come to our 
 shores? How many more are to come while the wheels 
 in the Mills of Mammon grind out their grist from be 
 tween great iron burrs that crush, and crush, and crush 
 and always hunger for more, and more, and more? 
 How many more are to come as she comes, while cor 
 porations defy the law, rob the dead and living alike, 
 burn, maim, cripple, debauch ; wantonly, uselessly, con 
 tinuously. 
 
 She is coming. Will the great gates of the Holdon 
 Company swing open for her, that she may find some 
 of her lover s comrades who may tell her of him ? Will 
 its office force be instructed to assist her in her search 
 for the man who promised to make her an American? 
 No, no, no, a thousand times no. A hooting mob of 
 young hoodlums will cry their senseless drivel after 
 her in the streets as she turns away from the gates. 
 A nation will look on coldly at the anguish of a broken 
 hearted little foreign-born sister of ours, as she takes 
 her way into our grand, free, fair, square life. 
 
 Why should this little flaxen-headed woman with 
 out money or friends be shown consideration by an 
 American corporation, when men who have families liv 
 ing almost at the gates give up their lives or writhe in 
 agony after one of the "accidents" incident ^ to our 
 hurry-for-dollars. life-be-damned system, while their 
 loved ones are denied the right to see the sufferer, or 
 
HOLDON GIVES ADVICE 22$ 
 
 know the truth as to his injury, until a company doc 
 tor and a company claim adjuster have had their way 
 with the helpless, tortured, broken victim? What right- 
 can this little flaxen-headed woman from a far land 
 have to knock upon the gates of the Holdon Company s 
 plant when the police of a great city stand without the 
 walls mocking good citizens of the republic as they in 
 sist that they have a right to go to friend or kindred in 
 agony behind those gates? 
 
 She is coming. Will some soft-skinned, smooth-voiced 
 seeker after worlds to come tell me : Is our modernized 
 HELL hot enough for the proper reception of the gen 
 tlemen who will turn her away from the great gates 
 of the Holdon Company? 
 
 Who will tell her the truth? Who knows? 
 
 Three drunken negroes were paid five dollars to 
 bury a gunnysack at the back of the Holdon Plant last 
 night. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 MICKEY INTRODUCES HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 Mickey and Charley enjoyed a two days vacation 
 before the former felt able to venture back to the works 
 of the Holdon Company. 
 
 During that time Charley spent most of his time 
 with Mickey, and they discussed a number of topics, 
 several of which we shall touch upon in this chapter. 
 One topic that never lost interest for Mickey was Price. 
 Charley, in the interests of peace, tried his best to get 
 the cripple to admit that he might be mistaken in his 
 estimate of the superintendent; an estimate summed up 
 in the title of "Stinker" the boy bestowed upon his late 
 antagonist. 
 
 "Nixie fer me, Charley," Mickey had insisted when 
 pressed, "it won t go down. Youse don t b leve none 
 ov it yerself. Youse knows it s bull con, an de only 
 reason youse dopes it out t me is cause youse .is afraid 
 I ll get inter trouble again. I m dead next t th pipe, 
 but it won t work. Youse see, it s this here way; I ve 
 bin a-watchin dat stinker ever since de boss got him, 
 an there hain t nothin to it; he s plum phony t th 
 core." 
 
 Mickey lay upon a dilapidated lounge in the dilapi 
 dated parlor of an equally dilapidated boarding house, 
 while Charley sat at a window watching the boy and 
 wondering how he could have collected the endless vari 
 ety of odd bits of worldly wisdom he possessed. 
 
 "What s yer politics?" the cripple demanded, start 
 ling Charley out of a brown study. 
 
 "Why, I m a Republican, I guess, but you know I 
 have been so busy with my machine ever since I was a 
 boy that I never had much to do with politics but to 
 vote twice." 
 
 "Do youse know why youise is a Publican?" 
 
 "Well, no, I can t say, unless it s because we saved 
 226 
 
MICKEY INTRODUCES HIS FRIENDS 
 
 the country, and my father votes the ticket," Charley 
 replied, laughing. 
 
 "Jist w at he said ! Exac ly w at he said !" Mickey sat 
 up and punctuated the air with his fists. 
 
 "What who said?" 
 
 "W y, a barker on de street. One night bout a 
 month ago I seed a gang on a street corner, an a bloke 
 a-wavin his han s, an a-givin em hark. So I goes 
 over an squeezes inter th mob t listen t de gent, an 
 dat s w at he tells dem guys. Says he, If youse asks a 
 Dimocrat r a Publican why dey is one of dem things, 
 he s on y got one thing t say t youse, an dat is, "I m 
 a Dimocrat cause me fader was one," or "I m a Publi 
 can cause we fit an died fer de country/ Say, de gent 
 jist went on an ripped th eternal stuffin outen both th 
 Dimocrats an the "Publicans; an he did give sich fel 
 lers as our boss th very hell, w y, that feller says de 
 kids even don t stand no show if sich men as Old Man 
 Holdon wants t bile em up inter soap do youse b leve 
 dat?" He looked straight at Charley with a face all 
 seriousness. 
 
 "Of course not that was what we call exaggera 
 tion, Mickey. You see I was a kid once, and they 
 didn t boil me up, or grind me up, either. If the rich 
 men went to grinding the boys up where would we get 
 our men?" 
 
 Mickey ran his hand down over a withered hip. As 
 he did so the memory of his suffering caused him to 
 wince. 
 
 "But here s me, Charley," he protested, "an dey 
 burned me up " 
 
 "Oh, that was an accident ; I don t suppose Mr. Hol 
 don was to blame." 
 
 "Wasn t?" There was a wealth of contempt in the 
 one word, and more as he poured out the rest. "Th hell 
 th wasn t. Say, I thought th same, but I ve changed 
 me mind. See here, dey locked th good men out ov de 
 works an hired police bulls an fly cops t guard th 
 plant. An me bein nothin but a boy, they induces me 
 t stay an work, an I didn t know no better den dey 
 brings in a bunch ov scabs frum somewheres, an dey 
 was all dubs an muckers. But Holdon sets em t mon- 
 keyin wid de furnaces fer a bluff t make the ol . men 
 
228 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 think de plant was a-goin t work. Course I knowed 
 dey was green, ef I was jist a kid, but I didn t know 
 dey was goin t blow her up well, dey got me I was 
 burned awful an sometimes w en I gits t thinkin w at 
 a spry kid I was fore den, I wishes t God they d a-fin- 
 ished me an sent me on t th soap fact ry de gent told 
 about." 
 
 Charley sat silent, regarding this being, robbed of 
 boyhood and denied the possibility of manhood. 
 
 "De spouter on de street hit it off right, all right, 
 when he told dem guys how every kid ought t have a 
 chanct t get a good ejucation, have a good home t live 
 in, an plenty t eat. Den he shot de stuff right into th 
 Dimocrat and Publican parties fer a keepin th poor 
 folks kids in de fact rys, an out ov de schools, cause 
 th rich guys wants th earth, an all de poor kids can 
 make t boot. By th Old Harry, it s so, too! An if 
 youse don t b leve it I can show youse thousands ov poor 
 kids w at don t know nothin but work, an they has ter 
 live jist like he says." 
 
 "But we have all our schools full, Mickey, and 
 there are just oceans and oceans of boys and girls who 
 don t have to work; besides " 
 
 " Sides nothin !" the boy protested, hotly. "Dey 
 ain t never had rro school full ov me an I ain t one ov 
 dem oceans an oceans youse says don t have t work, 
 am I ? Well, it s me I m a-talkin about an I guess dat 
 gent was a-talkin th same way. What chanst have I 
 had t git w at s in me nut sorted out so s I could use it ? 
 Nixie ! It s me t de sand pile an de scrap dump. An 
 jist think ov it. Dat gent says as how his party, th 
 Sociablists, is a-goin ter take ev ry runty kid outen de 
 fact rys an* give em long trips on th railroads an 
 steamboats, an put em in school, an make men an 
 women ov J em. D ; youse think it kin be done, Char 
 ley?" There was a wealth of pleading earnestness in 
 the Irish blue eyes as Mickey asked the question. The 
 visitor temporized: 
 
 "Well, Mickey, it ought to be done, that s sure." 
 
 "Jist w at he says. I ll be litter ly blistered ef it ain t 
 jist w at th gent says youse ud say." 
 
 "How s that?" 
 
 "W y dis way. Dat gent says: Ladies an gents, ef 
 
MICKEY INTRODUCES HIS FRIENDS 
 
 youse askes me Publican er Dimocrat frien s ef de 
 things I m telling youse isn t jist as they ought t be, 
 they ll say sure t ing, it s all right, all right ; but how th 
 hell are youse goin ter git it? An he winds up by say- 
 in dat, spite ov anything, they is goin t git things com- 
 in deir way, an I t row up me lid an hollers like Fs 
 a Ingin an when they passes de hat I seen Fly Boyd 
 drop a whole dollar in th dicer." 
 
 "Who is this Fly Boyd?" Charley asked, in an ef 
 fort to get away from politics, where he felt he was in 
 deep water even with Mickey. 
 
 "Who s Fly Boyd? Say, anybody could tell as how 
 youse ain t bin in de mertropolis long. Who s Fly 
 Boyd?" he repeated, "why, she s a topnotcher an don t 
 youse try to fergit it. Wouldn t no more look at a 
 common dub like youse dan nothin in de world. Why, 
 she s traveled bin t Europe an all dem places where 
 folks as is some shakes don t wear no close t speak ov, 
 an she has money t burn. She s got a swell joint, 
 down on Mich-ave an don t keep no mollies round but 
 jist t keep t ings a-lookin swell. Anything dey gits in 
 deir socks is clear velvet; an dey don t have no rent 
 t pay, er nothin . An purty! Say, when Fly Boyd 
 was run off dey shook out de sand and split up de pat 
 tern as soon as ever dey got through." 
 
 Charley laughed heartily at Mickey s description of 
 this woman of the town, and asked: "How in the 
 world did you get acqauinted with this dream of yours 
 pipe dream, isn t it?" 
 
 "Pipe dream nothin . I bin t her place on Mich-ave, 
 an know me nut s on straight when I talks." 
 
 "You ve been to her house?" 
 
 "Sure, Mike ! Don t sound right when youse look 
 at me, but it s on de level. Youse see I knowed a girl 
 what worked in a graving plant, an whilst she was 
 dere one ov th clerks got t makin goo-goo eyes at her, 
 an she bein young an so purty she thought dey wasn t 
 no use ov no man a-lookin at her an not fallin dead 
 in love t onct, lets this Johnnie tell her she s de onliest 
 piece of calico in th world an she a-knowin it fore 
 he told it t her made it all th easier fer him, see? 
 Well, she jist melts in his arms, but don t come out ov 
 it soon enough. Course she thinks he s a-goin ter mar- 
 
230 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 ry her, an this Johnnie helps her t think so as long as 
 she is fit t be seen at the plant. Then he up an tells 
 her she better not come no more. Nacherly she fires 
 up an tells him he s bin puttin off th ringing ov them 
 weddin bells bout as long as she ll stand fer, an he 
 fixes it all up slick an nice ; inducin her t go t de boss 
 an lie t him by tellin that she is bout t marry a man 
 in Hammond, an won t he please pay her her full time, 
 as she must quit her job. Say, that welsher was slick, 
 all right, all right. When she goes home her folks lives 
 jist across de street youse can see de house th one 
 with th big winder in de roof like. When she quits her 
 job she nacherly tells her folks she s goin ter marry t 
 dis wels her, an she waits an waits, but he never shows 
 up after he gits her t quit de plant. Then her brother 
 goes down t de plant an asks fer his nibs ; an what he 
 done t dat cuss wasn t half ernough, even ef he did have 
 ter go t de hospital. Course th brother had t skip, an 
 Mamie, she s de girl, gets peakeder an peakeder an 
 finally one day she comes up missin . It s a whole year 
 fore I sees her agin; an would youse b leve it, when 
 she first sees me she pulls me inter a doorway, an hugs 
 an kisses me, an jist nacherly insists that I must go 
 home wid her an tell her all th news. So I goes, some 
 wondering, and she takes me t Fly Boyd s joint, fer 
 that s where she lives." 
 
 "Mamie, the girl that ran away from home?" Char 
 ley asked. 
 
 Naw, she didn t run away. I seen her when she 
 made her git-a-way, an she wasn t runnin . Well, she 
 make me promise as how I won t say a word t her 
 old folks nor nobody bout a-seein her, an den she let 
 me inter de whole works. Say, it was all a false alarm 
 bout dat baby, she ain t got none, told me so herself. 
 Dat s how I got acquainted with Fly Boyd an Jim Gard 
 ner th squares man in de world." 
 
 Mickey lay back on the battered old lounge and 
 gazed at the smoke-blackened ceiling, while Charley let 
 his eyes wander from time to time toward the house 
 with the big window in the roof on the other side of 
 the street; but his mind was busy sorting the queer mix 
 ture of wisdom and innocence and ignorance, lying on 
 
MICKEY INTRODUCES HIS FRIENDS 23! 
 
 the lounge and for the time being deeply interested in 
 the smoky ceiling. 
 
 After studying the boy for a time, he said: "I m 
 very inquisitive, Mickey, and would like first rate to 
 know something about this Jim Gardner "The squarest 
 man in the world." 
 
 Mickey turned quickly. "W y, I told you, didn t I 
 he s square? Jist like you, only differenter. Youse 
 is is well " 
 
 Laughing heartily, Charley encouraged him to go on. 
 
 "Well, youse is good, an on de level but youse 
 don t know no better." 
 
 Charley s eyes were wide open. "I don t know any 
 better than to be good, while Jim Gardner " 
 
 "Is good, too," Mickey interrupted, "but it s a dif 
 ferenter kind ov good he knows better, but jist can t 
 help being good most ov de time. W y, he s a gent." 
 
 Mickey crowded into those four words all the long 
 ing, all the day dreams and night visions of his poor, 
 cramped and misshapen life "W y, he s a gent." 
 
 "What does he do?" The questioner really won 
 dered what revelation was to come to him as the fruit 
 of his question. 
 
 "He s in de syndicate; but he had ter work like th 
 devil t break in. I heard him tell Fly dat." 
 
 "What syndicate?" 
 
 "Well, it s me t de dump! An youse don t even 
 know dat? Why I ain t youse heard ov th men at de 
 head ov th policy shops and big lay-outs uptown? 
 say, youse is too green t burn." 
 
 "Oh," Charley observed, calmly. "He s one of the 
 big gamblers; is that it?" 
 
 "Yep, dat s de dope." Mickey sat up straight. 
 "Dat s jist w at he is an if dey hadn t a-burnt me f a 
 cracklin w en I wasn t nutting but er kid, maybe I d a- 
 bin as big a man, an as great a gent as Jim Gardner." 
 
 Horrified, Charley made protest. "Why, Mickey," 
 said he, "gambling is wrong and the kind of life 
 Mamie and Fly Boyd lead is sinful. I don t see -" 
 
 "No, youse don t see. Why, damn it all, Charley, 
 ain t dem gospel sharks gamblers? Didn t dey take me 
 mon, an not even give me a look-in fer me coin? An 
 when it comes t Mamie an Fly say, w en our boss 
 
232 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 gits his name in de papers fer givin a thousan bucks t 
 de church, he s called good, ain t he ?" 
 
 Charley nodded. 
 
 "An w en he goes down t Fly s joint, er sends fer 
 her t go up t his partments on Monroe, an gives her 
 a even hundred bucks fer takin away his headache er 
 something like dat w at is he?" 
 
 But he don t do it," Charley protested. 
 
 "Don t he !" Mickey put all the contempt possible 
 into a few words, and plunged on: "Maybe I keeps 
 Mamie posted on th doin s out here, an don t get noth- 
 in back, an maybe I does. Anyway, youse can take it 
 from me, our boss is jist as bad as me friends Mamie 
 an Fly, an a darned site worser dan Jim Gardner. If 
 I was t tell Jim Gardner how Stinker Price used me, 
 de stinker d be mighty lucky ef he didn t get his block 
 knocked off some dark night, fer Jim ud send a slug 
 ger out t do him up." 
 
 When Mickey ceased speaking Charley sat for some 
 time wrestling with his conscience. He saw the possi 
 bility of losing Mickey s friendship unless he could 
 square himself with Mickey s views of life. It went 
 against the grain, but he did manage to convey to the 
 cripple an assurance that he would gladly meet "the 
 squares man in de world" and other of Mickey s 
 friends. 
 
 "Bet yer life youse would," was the comment re 
 turned, with the following elaboration: "Let me put 
 youse wise w en Jim Gardner walks inter th bettin 
 ring a cloud ov pikers an de whole push jist follers 
 him up t th marker, an w en Jim pulls his wad 
 it s a roll big as me leg, me good one an lays his coin 
 like he was a-dealin in rags ; say, they ain t nothin t it 
 he s de candy! Jim bets th bigges always, an w en 
 de bookies hears he s comin dey sen s fer all de cash 
 dey s got, in a hurryup on de bank, an dat s no dream." 
 
 "He must be rich," Charley observed. 
 
 "Yep, rich as Montgomery Ward an Co. But, say ; I 
 seed him oncet two years ago when a gang cleaned him 
 up fer fair, by pullin two races on him to oncet. W en 
 I seed him dat time he didn t have on no shiners, an he 
 looked plum disgusted. Mamie tol me bout de game, 
 an she sed Fly was a-keepin him under cover till he 
 
THE VISION FADES 233 
 
 could git next de gang dat put it over him. An she 
 did it, too ; an staked him fer de next time I seed him 
 he s wearing headlights on his front piece, an he skins 
 a five-spot offen his roll an says Here, Crips, he allus 
 calls me Crips Here, Crips, says he, go an enjoy 
 yourself/ an I did." 
 
 "So you think your friend Gardner would send a 
 slugger out to do up Price if you asked him to?" Char 
 ley asked banteringly, but as he went home the boy s 
 answer kept him fully occupied. 
 
 "Sure, Mike," Mickey had replied, "but don t youse 
 give me away. Lots ov th men what gits their nut 
 cracked wid a billy, an loses deir watches an loose 
 change gits it cause dey s bin piped off t some ov de 
 fly boys as is hired t make life miserable fer folks as 
 gits too gay a-nosin inter other folks biz. Yep, youse 
 kin take it from me ef Mr. Price comes up t th office 
 some mornin wid a busted nut, youse ll know me friends 
 is not all dead. What, youse goin so soon? Shucks, 
 it ain t late yit." 
 
 "Well, I ll see youse to th works in de mornin ," he 
 called after his visitor. 
 
CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE VISION FADES. 
 
 Mickey and Charley both felt a bit shaky the morn 
 ing they went back to work when they saw Price. He 
 was still wearing court-plaster in strips when he came 
 into the moulding room. Seeing them, he cast down his 
 eyes and flushed up, but made straight for them never 
 theless. 
 
 Mickey hopped over to Charley s side and whispered : 
 "We gits de can as sure as you re born." 
 
 "All right, Mickey, we ll pull through any way," the 
 man answered, encouragingly. 
 
 Price advanced, and holding out his hand to Charley 
 said : "Mr. Harris, I owe you an apology ; I was brutal 
 the other day." 
 
 "You were rather hard pressed," Harris paused. 
 "The thing I regretted," his left hand pointed toward 
 Mickey, "was that you should " 
 
 "I understand fully, Mr. Harris, and assure you I 
 am as ready to make things right with Mickey." The 
 superintendent was beaming. 
 
 "No youse don t," declared Mickey. "Youse kin 
 give me de G. B. P. D. O., but dis chicken don t take 
 none ov de brand ov soap youse peddles." 
 
 After this declaration, Mickey limped away and 
 busied himself at the sand blast, while both Harris and 
 Price seemed at a loss to know how to bridge over the 
 cripple s awkward speech. 
 
 Carson, the big moulder, who had overheard the 
 speech, grinned his broadest. 
 
 Price was first across. "He s never been right since 
 his accident," he asserted, and while Harris mumbled an 
 indistinct reply, his visitor was gone, having found busi 
 ness elsewhere. 
 
 Two weeks later Charley was called to the office and 
 found Price busy with some papers. 
 
 234 
 
THE VISION FADES 235 
 
 "Sit down, Mr. Harris," the superintendent motioned 
 to a chair. "I m busy just for the moment." 
 
 Charley wondered what Price could possibly want of 
 him, he was cudgeling his brain for an answer, when 
 Price handed the papers he had been examining to his 
 stenographer and told her he would excuse her for a 
 short time. 
 
 Turning to face Harris, he inquired "Ever indulge ?" 
 and pushed a box of cigars toward him. 
 
 "Now, Mr. Harris," he began, when both cigars were 
 well alight, "You may be surprised when I tell you why 
 I sent for you. You see, Martin (the man Holdon had 
 hired to pump Harris) has told me in a casual way that 
 you are working on an automatic moulding machine." 
 Harris nodded. "And, well, as I too have been working 
 on one for years, I thought we might have some ideas 
 to exchange. I understand your machine is only in the 
 experimental stage." 
 
 "It s out of the experimental stage, Mr. Price. It 
 was a success as I first built it." 
 
 Price s eyes glowed. 
 
 "Well, you are ahead of me ; my machine is only 
 on paper, but I am thinking seriously of patenting the 
 principles involved." 
 
 This was all a lie out of whole cloth; Price bad 
 never had an idea, let alone developing a machine. 
 
 "But I should think it would be best to build a ma 
 chine to test the value of your invention before patent 
 ing it" the mechanic ventured. 
 
 "Oh, that s all right." Price laughed lightly. "I 
 know that my machine is all right." At that, he went 
 on to describe a machine so nearly like the one Harris 
 had broken up in Holcomb s barn, that the mechanic s 
 heart almost stood still. 
 
 "You you say you have this machine planned out on 
 paper, drafted?" Harris asked helplessly. 
 
 "Yes, and I was just ready to have a model con 
 structed and sent in when Martin happened to mention 
 that you have been working along the same lines." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Price, I am sure I appreciate your tell 
 ing me this, for there is but little use for two of us to 
 apply for patents on practically the same machine." 
 
 Harris had aged ten years in as many minutes. Price 
 
236 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 noted if all and gloated over having found an easy 
 victim. 
 
 "Machines alike! he exclaimed. "Did I hear you 
 right?" 
 
 "I said alike, but I suppose I might be able to claim 
 improvement in the compound for making the mold." 
 
 Charley s face took on more of hope as he thought of 
 the great difference there would be between the ma 
 chine he wanted to build and the one just described by 
 Price. "And my machine will have twice the speed that 
 can be given any machine that uses a tamped flask," 
 he asserted. 
 
 "Well, it s interesting, anyway/ Price declared, 
 "just think how odd it is that we two should have been 
 working out the same problems. And I don t mind tell 
 ing you that I am working along the line you just -men 
 tioned." 
 
 The speaker s sharp black eyes never left Charley s 
 face. He had his victim; that last shot was a winner. 
 The worker had never thought of the ""how" other work 
 ers had been robbed of the fruits of years of labor and 
 he sat helpless. 
 
 "But, you know, inventors are clannish and so long 
 as you have worked on the same sort of machine or at 
 least a machine to accomplish the same ends, why I 
 thought it no more than right to tell you about it." 
 
 "I thank you," Harris murmured in a choked voice 
 and hardly knowing what he did, got up, put on his cap 
 and started to leave the office. 
 
 Outside, there was at least escape from the near pres 
 ence of this man, who had robbed his life of the sum 
 total of its gladness; robbed labor of its song and sent 
 his soul reason hunting among past misdeeds. He had 
 reached the door; the cold eyes of the superintendent 
 were dancing as he called to him. 
 
 "Mr. Harris?" 
 
 "Yes," he answered, still feeling blindly for a knob 
 where it did not exist. 
 
 "Come and sit down; we ought to talk this matter 
 over a little further, and " 
 
 "No, it s not necessary," the man at the door re 
 plied. 
 
 "See here, Mr. Harris, I am sorry I beat you to it, 
 
THE VISION FADES 23/ 
 
 as the boys say, but as you have already built one ma 
 chine, why couldn t you take the job of building both 
 the model and a trial machine for me?" 
 
 "Never!" The man at the door found the way out. 
 
 "Darned tough medicine to take, and I certainly gave 
 him a good dose. I wouldn t want to put in such a night 
 as he will go through tonight. But, wasn t he easy; 
 never asked for a single proof or anything else. And 
 yet, he s bright/ He reached over, touched a button and 
 -the stenographer returned. 
 
 In the quiet little four room cottage where Charley 
 and Mary Harris had established their home, there was 
 little of mirth the night after Charley s interview with 
 Price. 
 
 From the office, he had gone back to the casting 
 floor, but how he put in the hours until the great whistle 
 sounded his release, he never knew. 
 
 He walked from the works to his home, and at each 
 step, the weight upon him seemed to grow. It was a 
 tell-tale face into which Mary looked as her husband 
 entered the door. 
 
 "Gracious Charley, what s happened ?" she asked even 
 before she reached him. 
 
 "I have been dreaming." He threw his dinner pail 
 into a corner. 
 
 "What is it, Charley, what is it ?" 
 
 "Nothing, only I found some one who woke me up. 
 Oh, what a fool! what a fool!" He pushed her away. 
 "Go away and leave me alone for a little while." 
 
 "Not until you tell me," she insisted. 
 
 "Well then, another man as good as holds a pat 
 ent on my machine. And he has money. He can go 
 ahead tomorrow and I must wait until these two hands 
 may dig up, by a few cents a day, the money I need to 
 build my machine. He can hire a dozen men tomorrow. 
 I can go back to work in the morning and eat my heart 
 out." 
 
 "I don t believe it." 
 
 "Believe what?" 
 
 "That another man has invented that machine. If 
 anyone has it, they stole it from you." 
 
 "Didn t he tell me what his claim on a moulding ma- 
 
238 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 chine covers? Well, he had no chance to steal it from 
 me. It was Price, our superintendent." 
 
 "I won t believe it," Mary declared, and tried to 
 coax a smile to his lips, but the hurt was too deep. 
 
 During supper Charley had not uttered a word, and 
 suddenly Mary burst out crying. 
 
 "There, there, little girl, don"t cry; we ll pull 
 through," he assured her. 
 
 "It just seems as if mother s curse was following 
 us," she whispered between sobs. "There was our baby, 
 and it died, and now you have lost all you have." 
 
 Charley listened that far, then said: "Mary, dear, 
 you must quit thinking about your mother s foolish 
 words. I ll own, we are having our share of bad luck, 
 but sweetheart, we are both young." 
 
 "Hello, youse spoonin again?" came a cheery voice 
 from the front door. 
 
 "Come in, Mickey," Charley called to the visitor. 
 
 "Not fer mine, when de air s full ov ambrosia, and 
 blowin towards de -stock yards at dat," Mickey declared 
 as he threw himself upon the platform at the front door. 
 
 He sat with his back up against the house for about 
 ten minutes, when Charley excused himself and went 
 t>ack to the kitchen. When he returned, the two sat 
 silent for at least ten minutes longer, then Charley ex 
 cused himself again, and this time Mary returned with 
 him. 
 
 After a good evening to Mickey, the group remained 
 silent until Mickey got up, stretched himself and re 
 marked: "Purty early fer frost, but I feels like dey 
 was one billed fer dis end of town, an I guess I ll make 
 me sneak before it settles on me." 
 
 "Don t go, Mickey; I m not just well, not feeling 
 over cheerful tonight." 
 
 "Bin on de carpet? Get canned? " 
 
 The visitor knew Charley had been called to the of 
 fice. 
 
 "No, I didn t get canned. I got something worse," 
 Charley answered. 
 
 "Worse n de can? W y, w at s worse?" 
 
 "Mickey, I was robbed of years of labor, of hope, 
 of happiness, today." 
 
THE VISION FADES 239 
 
 "Don t say that Charley," came between sobs from 
 the doorway. 
 
 "I will say it/ The man s voice was hard. "I will 
 say it ; I was robbed, robbed, robbed ! What have I been 
 since that machine first came to my mind ? Nothing un 
 der heaven but a plaything in the hands of a single 
 dominant idea. I planned all my life around that ma 
 chine. I ate that the machine might grow. I forgot 
 God, man, wife, all, even my own appetites, and gave 
 up both days and nights to it. Fool, that I was ; if I had 
 only had sense enough to take out patents on the ma 
 chine I built, but no, it wasn t perfect Now, I am 
 robbed of even the perfect machine and " he hesi 
 tated, ran his fiingers through his hair, and hurried on, 
 "I could have killed him; for a moment I wanted to; 
 I was almost mad." 
 
 "Who swiped yer machine?" Mickey looked up puz 
 zled. 
 
 "Oh, Mickey, he don t know what he s saying, he 
 don t mean that any one has stolen it from him. Mr. 
 Price has invented one just like it and he has money to 
 go ahead and get it out." 
 
 "Stinker Price over to th works?" 
 
 "Yes," Harris answered. 
 
 "Th hell he did! W y, say, he s a stringin youse. 
 Him! Why, he don t know enough t invent nothin 
 bigger ner better n a sneaky, low-lived lie." 
 
 "But, he has invented a machine so near like mine, 
 that it s useless for me to waste " 
 
 "Cut it out, Charley, it s a stall. An anyways, I 
 don t want to hear dat stinker s name mentioned less 
 de one as does it is a cussin him good and plenty. Good 
 night." Mickey started toward the street. 
 
 "Come back," Mary called to him. 
 
 "Not fer mine," came from the cripple, as he hob 
 bled through the gateway. 
 
 For two days after his interview with Harris, the 
 superintendent of the Holdon plant lived in an atmos 
 phere surcharged with satisfaction. Twice each day 
 he found business to take him to the casting floor and 
 four times he noted the disheartened, dull-eyed worker, 
 who had once had a vision, and the more the worker 
 
24O MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 grieved, the more reason the superintendent had to re 
 joice. 
 
 There was but one little cloud in his sky. On the 
 same job with Harris, there was one Mickey Dougherty, 
 and if ever unstinted contempt looked out of eyes, if 
 ever good, honest Irish wrath, ready to to leap into 
 flame, flared out from Irish eyes of blue, Price got the 
 full benefit of their charge on each trip made to the 
 casting floor. 
 
 "That twisted little devil," he muttered as he re 
 turned from a trip to the shop. "He looks at me just 
 as though he would like to put a bullet through me." 
 
 The third morning after his interview with Price, 
 Harris did not show up at the works and when he did 
 not appear the next morning, Moran, knowing the in 
 timacy between Harris and Mickey, inquired of the boy, 
 if Harris was sick. Mickey gave his wits to the prob 
 lem and answered : "Yes," then added : "He asked me 
 t git off dis mornin at noon, I mean, an do a errand 
 fer him." 
 
 "All right/ said the foreman, you can go at noon. 
 Get back as soon as you can ; if he is going to be away 
 for some time, I want to put a man on his work." 
 
 W hen Mickey reached the little cottage in which 
 Harris had lived, he found a "For Rent" sign on both 
 gate and staring windows. A neighbor informed him 
 that they had moved out about 7 o clock that morning. 
 Where had they gone? No one knew unless it was the 
 agent for the property. Mickey spelled out the name 
 and address of the real estate man and started for his 
 office. 
 
 "Darned if I d a-thoug<ht Charley would a done it, 
 an me as good a frien as he ever had. He just up an 
 hiked ; wonder was dem furniture sharks after him. Any 
 ways he s gone. My, but he was down in de mouth yes 
 terday an de day afore. Bet anything, Price had some- 
 thin t do with his goin so sudden." Thus Mickey 
 speculated upon the probable reason of his friend s go 
 ing as he approached the agent s office. 
 
 Arrived there, the agent informed him that Harris 
 had moved to Alton, where he is going to work for a 
 stove company. A long whistle was all the thanks Mick 
 ey gave the agent for the information. 
 
THE VISION FADES 24! 
 
 "And he s gone plumb outen de mertropolis. Well, he 
 wasn t up t no city ways, an I reckon he was plumb 
 ashamed <t tell me he couldn t stan de gaff." In this 
 way, Mickey justified his friend s unceremonious leave- 
 taking. 
 
 As he was about to enter the shop, he overheard 
 Price and Moran in conversation, and halted with his ear 
 at an open window where he could hear. 
 
 "You say he s sick?" Price asked. 
 
 "Yes/ Moran answered, "And I sent Mickey at noon 
 to find out how he was." 
 
 "Well, as soon as he comes back,, ring me up. I 
 don t want to lose track of him, he s too valuable a man. 
 And while I think of it, I wish you would keep an eye 
 on that cripple, I don t believe he has a good influence in 
 the shop, and it seems to me, he is making a good deal 
 of capital out of his being a cripple." 
 
 Mickey bit his lips and waited. "So Price didn t 
 want to lose track of Charley; he was too valuable." 
 Now Mickey was not so dense but that he could put two 
 and two together, and make them count for four every 
 time. 
 
 It popped into his head in a moment. Charley had 
 something Price wanted, and therefore it was his plain 
 duty to keep Price from knowing anything about Char 
 ley s whereabouts if he could. He walked into the shop 
 and was relieved to find that Price had gone. 
 
 "Well, how is he?" Moran called to him from across 
 the room. 
 
 "Folks is sick, and he s goin to take his wife an 
 go -down home fer a week," Mickey answered. 
 
 "Funny he didn t come dawn and tell us," was Mo- 
 ran s comment. 
 
 "Would a-done it, but he had t hurry t git out o 
 town t -day ; so I promised t fix it, knowin youse would 
 n t care long as it was a case ov sickness." 
 
 Mickey went at his pile of castings with right good 
 will, and many a sly wink was bestowed upon the cold 
 iron, as he thought how well he had succeeded in giv 
 ing Price "de wrong steer." 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 THE ULTIMATE DEMAND. 
 
 "Fly" Boyd sat in the parlor of her apartments, 
 beside the little onyx and gold table, which held 
 place of honor in the great bay-window overlooking the 
 avenue. She awaited the coming of the one man in the 
 world with whom she was in love. 
 
 Twenty-eight years ago this woman was born to 
 possess a splendid body, beauty of face, an abundance 
 of gold-brown hair, eyes of hazel, long, sweeping lashes, 
 arched brows, and lips full and curved as artists paint 
 them. With all of this physical perfection, the girl in 
 herited a well organized mentality, a disposition to 
 charity and a capacity for loving almost unbounded, yet 
 we find her here at twenty-eight years of age feeding 
 the vanity of a millionaire, and taking from him and 
 others of whom he knows nothing enough to keep up 
 this splendid establishment, support her charities and 
 leave a little for a rainy day. 
 
 If you believe as you should in the inherent virtue 
 of woman you will agree with me that somewhere in 
 the life of "Fly" Boyd there must have been shipwreck, 
 moral shipwreck, and if there was this shipwreck, you 
 will not dispute me when I insist that a man intent 
 only upon making this girl believe a lie in order that 
 he might feast at the expense of her soul held the wheel 
 and drove her ship upon the rocks. 
 
 But our story has nothing to do with this ship 
 wreck. 
 
 She enters our story at a time when but few men, 
 married or single, priest or layman, might look un 
 moved upon her beauty. She enters our story at a time 
 when her experience has given her exact knowledge 
 of the present worth, in dollars and cents, of the mar 
 velous battery of mental and physical attributes of which 
 she is possessed. 
 
 242 
 
THE ULTIMATE DEMAND 243 
 
 The world is a-weary of the grossly sordid and 
 bestial stories of women who trade in the lusts of men, 
 as published from day to day in ever increasing volume 
 in our daily press. But this woman is not a degenerate. 
 She is womanly, full of sympathy for her less fortunate 
 sisters in shame; and, capable of supreme love, she 
 uses her ability to turn the appetites of polygamous 
 mankind into gold, and as the lavish outpouring of their 
 treasure falls at her feet, it is caught up and poured 
 out in large part into a hundred channels through which 
 it reaches poor souls in direst need. 
 
 This woman waits the coming of the man she loves. 
 Who is this one man who may have her love? 
 
 Enter Mamie, bearing a card tray. 
 
 "Fly" took the card, "Jim," she exclaimed. 
 
 "Yes, Jim," comes a voice from the doorway. 
 
 The rich color climbed from neck to hair, up over 
 her beautiful face as she went toward him. 
 
 "And welcome," she murmured. 
 
 Jim Gardner, "Gent," Mickey s "squares man in de 
 world," looked hungrily into the brown eyes uplifted to 
 his. 
 
 "Well, "Fly," are you going with me?" he inquired. 
 
 "No, Jim, I ve made other plans." She paused. 
 
 "Other plans!" Jim spoke in a tone that implied 
 both surprise and disappointment. 
 
 "Yes, other plans," the woman looked down and 
 seemed ill at ease under her lover s eyes. 
 
 "But Fly, you know we had agreed that when T 
 went East you should go with me, and Judson has 
 wired that we can make a killing. I wanted to show 
 those New Yorkers the most fascinating thing in the 
 way of a woman they ever looked upon." 
 
 "And, Jim, you wanted you want to parade me 
 as so much fancy stock." 
 
 "No, no, Fly not that!" he protested. 
 
 "Yes, Jim, just that. "You have just two motives 
 in asking me to go, you want me and all I can give 
 you; then you want the satisfaction of knowing that 
 every man who can be influenced by such a feeling will 
 be jealous of you and covet me." 
 
 Gently releasing herself from his arms, she stood 
 before him, bright-eyed and serious. 
 
244 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "God, but you are ravishingly beautiful to-day." 
 
 A pout came to her lips and her face clouded. Jim 
 noted the change and blurted out: "What in the world 
 is the matter, Flora?" 
 
 "Not that name from you." "Fly" stamped her foot. 
 "I ve told you before " 
 
 "Girl, girl, are you going to turn out like the or 
 dinary woman?" he questioned peevishly. 
 
 "No, James Gardner, I am not and , but what s the 
 use, Jimmie, you won t understand me. You, who know 
 me if any man does, who always say I am different 
 from other women, even you give me nothing that other 
 women may not claim of you." 
 
 " Fly, I don t understand you at all. Let s quit 
 talking in riddles. Tell me the truth why won t you 
 go with me?" 
 
 "Because another man offers more for my compan 
 ionship," came from her lips almost in a whisper. 
 
 Jim Gardner sat stunned. For five years this wom 
 an had professed to love him, and as . he sat blinking 
 his big blue eyes at her he remembered the sacrifices, 
 big and little, she had made for him. She, his one sure 
 rock in time of stress, more mother than mistress, had 
 led him out of difficulties; had bought him liberty, had 
 staked him when he was "broke," had nursed him back 
 to health when he was sick. This woman, whom he 
 had proudly told himself, and immensely tickled his 
 vanity in the telling, loved him, now stood before 
 him dry-eyed and informed him that another offered her 
 more than he could give. 
 
 "I won t stand for it, Fly ! " he blurted out, and fin 
 ished lamely, "I want you; I can t go without you!" 
 
 "Will you pay my price ?" 
 
 He looked up and laughed. 
 
 "Name it, girlie, name it ; and if it takes my last red 
 copper, it s yours." 
 
 "Oh, Jim, if you only meant that." 
 
 "Well^ try me." 
 
 "Will you marry me?" As she asked the question 
 she was at his feet sobbing out: "Do it, Jimmie, I am 
 so tired of this." 
 
 Jim s hands fell across her shoulders. "There, there, 
 girlie, don t cry. I can t stand it." 
 
THE ULTIMATE DEMAND 245 
 
 "But will you?" She looked up blushing like a 
 girl. 
 
 "Will I? Well, hardly." 
 
 There was nothing of harshness in his voice, yet the 
 woman winced as under a lash. 
 
 "Just one more chance, Jimmie," lier eyes sought 
 his, but he avoided a direct look. "Take your time, I m 
 waiting." Again the regal head dropped. 
 
 "What s come over the woman?" Jim asked himself 
 as he stroked the brown locks. "Just a whim; she ll 
 be well over it in ten minutes." Then, aloud " Fly/ 
 you are not yourself this morning, and in an hour you ll 
 be laughing with me over your own fool question." 
 
 "Is that your answer? 
 
 "The only one I ve got with me," the man answered 
 lightly. 
 
 The next instant a new woman, one whom he had 
 never before seen, was upon her feet and pointing to 
 ward the door. 
 
 "Go, Jim; go before I go mad; mad enough to kill 
 you." 
 
 "In the name of God, Fly, what ails you?" he 
 gasped. 
 
 "Go, go, you brute! And I have loved you so! O 
 God, I have loved you so! Go away from me!" she 
 screamed, as he attempted to take her in his arms. 
 "Leave me, or, before God, I ll tell you something that 
 will scorch your soul, if you have one." 
 
 He persisted and Fly ran to the little table in the 
 bay window. Reaching under it she pulled out a re 
 volver and faced the man she loved. 
 
 "Not a step, Jim; not one, or, as sure as there s a 
 God I ll kill you, and your re too much the coward to 
 die ; too much the coward." 
 
 Jim stood white-faced and trembling, his eyes held 
 to hers in dread fascination. 
 
 "You wouldn t go, you drove me to tell you. Oh, 
 Jim, if you had only been half the man I have tried to 
 believe you to be! If you had shown only one spark 
 of clean love for me, the woman. No, all you want is 
 my body, ail you have ever wanted, all you have ever 
 seen in me was a thing out of which you could feed your 
 self. Faugh ! When I think of all I have suffered for 
 
246 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 you you I could kill you. Years ago, I gave you 
 money, a home, a place to hide, and I have caressed 
 the sweaty, gouty, pauchy brutes who held the power 
 to punish you. And you, you poor bit of handsome 
 emptiness, went free and came again at feeding time. 
 And you dare to spurn my love, you, who have tested 
 it in all the fires of the hell in which we struggle. I, 
 the fool, the supreme fool, with every sacrifice made for 
 you, you dog, I hugged to myself the belief that any day 
 I wanted to put you to the test, any day I wanted* to 
 try you, would be to me the greatest day in my life. 
 Look at me!" She swayed as though about to fall. 
 Jim took one big step toward her with outstretched 
 arms and halted. "Stop!" The revolver was held in 
 a hand steady once more. "Don t play with death, Jim, 
 you need to live as long as all women who love are 
 fools." He dropped his head under the utter contempt 
 of her eyes. "Listen, Jim Gardner." Fly tapped the 
 barrel of her revolver upon the table top. "You think 
 yourself too good to marry me, and you are going out 
 of this room to try to forget me ; but, empty as you are, 
 you have so much need for me that you would be back 
 here whining to be fed like any other tramp within a 
 month. Now listen, I swear that I will kill you if you 
 ever speak to me. And if you ever talk of your con 
 quest of me to the fools who will love you, and I find 
 it out, I will follow you to the ends of the earth and 
 hire, with my kisses, some other little dog to put you 
 away. Now go !" 
 
 The woman dropped her revolver and clutched at 
 the frail table for support. At each step of the retreat 
 ing figure her heart was torn, and when he had reached 
 the portal, her anguish became audible. Jim heard and 
 half turned, but did not comprehend; another step and 
 the heavy draperies had fallen behind him. Had he but 
 known when that stifled cry reached him that the wom 
 an s power for resistance was at it s ebb, had he but 
 known, he might have walked back and taken her in his 
 arms and held her slave to his will at his own price. 
 But he did not know. Too dazed to have a connected 
 thought, he stumbled down to the street, and taking 
 the first empty cab drove to tfhe Eagle. 
 
I will 
 
 follow you to the ends of the earth and hire, with my kisses, some 
 other little dog- to put you away. Now go!" Page 246. 
 
THE ULTIMATE DEMAND 247 
 
 In her beautiful parlor a woman lies unconscious 
 upon the floor; there Mamie found her a few minutes 
 later. 
 
 "Lost! Lost!" was her moan as faithful servants 
 crowded about at Mamie s call. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 WHEN JIM LACKED SAND. 
 
 James Gardner was put to bed the night Fly Boyd 
 had driven him from her Michigan avenue apartment by 
 his man George. 
 
 In the first hours of his defeat he told himself he 
 didn t care a rap, and at each repetition of this asser 
 tion he had imbibed another glass, until in the end 
 George was sent for, and his master went to bed crying 
 like a baby and assuring George that "She s the bes-h-t, 
 bes-h-t woman in the worl , by gad! An she ll come 
 roun all right, all right !" It was different in the morn 
 ing. His first sense was one of outraged innocence, 
 and he did the principal part in the play. When his 
 head would consent to think for him he summed it up 
 about like this: 
 
 "She was bluffing you, Jim, just plain bluff, and if 
 you had called her hand she would have thrown her 
 cards on the table. All women like to make them 
 selves believe they own a man, and Fly wants a bill of 
 sale for me. Why, if I d have said, Yes, I ll marry you/ 
 she would have loved me to death for a month and 
 talked about nothing but life in a cottage; then she 
 would have taken another tack. I was too innocent." 
 
 At night he had still another view of the matter. 
 
 "Say, I wonder what she meant when she stamped 
 her pretty little foot and told me not to dare call her 
 Flora ? I remember now ; she told me one night a year 
 or more ago that she hoped I might call her Flora some 
 time. I wonder if she does love me so much that she 
 wants to give up the others? I wonder if she does? 
 Now, I never felt that way about her. If she was my 
 wife, it would be different. I d kill her if she oh, hell, 
 what s the use. I don t want a wife ; this suits me." 
 
 "Say, Jim, wasn t she just about the most glorious 
 picture you ever saw in your life, when she grabbed up 
 
 248 
 
WHEN JIM LACKED SAND 249 
 
 the gun and sang out, Go, you dog! Did she call 
 me a dog? I don t distinctly remember, but it sounds 
 right when hitched on to the gun play?" 
 
 The next day he had still another view. 
 
 "That old pie-faced Holdon, he s the boy who swung 
 her over. I wouldn t have believed it if Murphy hadn t 
 told it; say, but she s fly! Here s me, doing things 
 for her all these years, when along comes this mil 
 lionaire; what sort of con does he give her? I suppose 
 something like this: I saw you with Jim Gardner not 
 long ago. Now, my girl, if you want a chance to touch 
 up my heirs for a million or two after I am dead and 
 gone, you just give Mr. Gardner to understand that he 
 is not expected to arrive any more; then pay strict atten 
 tion to me/ That s about the way she took it from him, 
 eve^n if he didn t say it in so many words ; and didn t 
 she pass it on to me in a lovely manner? Tragedy 
 queens get a thousand bucks per, and Fly Boyd s got 
 em all skinned." 
 
 The next day but one he had still another revela 
 tion. 
 
 "There s been some one lyin to the girl. Now, I 
 come to think of it, I haven t been paying attention to 
 any woman but her. Now, that is strange. Darned if 
 it isn t a strange sort of business. Well, now, let s see : 
 some mollie who s got it in for me goes to Fly and says : 
 Jim Gardner s telling what a killing he has made with 
 you and that all he has to do is whistle and you ll love 
 the whole city government for a month, just to get him 
 out of trouble. I did hear a man say that once. Well, 
 the mollie goes to Fly and puts it up to her that way, 
 then she sits down and digs a plan out of her dear little 
 head to put me to the test. I ll ask him to marry me, 
 and if he refuses, I ll know the stories they are telling 
 about him, calling me easy, are true/ 
 
 "And say, Jim, you chump, you fell into the trap for 
 all the world like a clay pigeon goes out of one." 
 
 A week later he had still another view of the situa 
 tion. 
 
 "Say, old man, there s no two ways about it. Fly 
 Boyd either loves you or all the dope sheets put out by 
 the historical novel writers are dead wrong. Didn t she 
 call me a dog and tell me not to play with death and 
 
25O MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 ordered me to go, and all the time her eyes were asking 
 me to come and take the gun away from her? Lord, 
 what an idiot I was ! If I had just taken the barker and 
 told her I d be up at nine p. m. and talk it over, she 
 would have laughed and kissed me and I d been all to 
 the good. Instead, Fm stung, and stung deep, too. Of 
 course she loves me; every sign of it, and whenever 
 Fm ready to go back to her well, I ll keep her waiting 
 long enough to teach her that gun play is dangerous, 
 even when you don t shoot. No, I won t. I ll go over 
 this afternoon and have it all over. Gee, just thinking 
 about how good she s going to be to me almost pays for 
 the unpleasant things I ve had to mull over for a week 
 now." 
 
 James Gardner, square gambler, big sport, and as 
 brave a man face to face with one of his own tribe as 
 ever stood in shoe leather, north, south, east or west, 
 drove to the neighborhood of Fly s abode, dismissed the 
 cab and then sneaked around the corner, and after a 
 furtive look at the brown-stone front sneaked back again 
 out of sight. 
 
 "My, but I m a brave man; guess I better mosey 
 around the block and see if I can t get my sand working 
 by the time I get around." 
 
 Three-fourths of the way around, he struck the Mich 
 igan avenue pavement. Straight north, six doors from 
 where he stood, was the brown-stone front, behind which 
 all his trouble was to vanish as soon as he got his sand 
 to working. But his feet dragged and his sand failed 
 to materialize. He was within ten seconds of his des 
 tination. 
 
 "Say, Jim, you are a poor, ornery chicken-hearted 
 chump ; there are but three women in that house, and one 
 of them is dead in love with you. Get a move on your 
 self." 
 
 He started, halted, went on again, and sneaked by, 
 looking neither up nor down, right nor left, until he 
 reached and turned the corner where he had dismissed 
 his cab. 
 
 "Confound the luck ! I d like to know what made my 
 heart act that way? Why, it s dangerous to have the 
 thing jumping around in a fellow like that, it might get 
 loose." 
 
WHEN JIM LACKED SAND 251 
 
 He mopped the perspiration from his brow, replaced 
 his hat, walked back to the spot from which he had re- 
 connoitered before going around the block. 
 
 "No use, Jim. You re plumb woozy. You might 
 find sand enough to tackle a dray load of devils, but 
 this is different" 
 
 At the Auditorium bar Jim Gardner looked shame 
 facedly at a couple of friends and wondered if they sus 
 pected what a double- distilled fool he was. 
 
 The next week Jim had gotten deep enough into the 
 problem to fairly understand its beginnings. Murphy 
 had told him that Fly and Holdon had gone East on the 
 same train. 
 
 He had tried to take the news without an outward 
 show of feeling, but Murphy, the best friend he had in 
 the world, excused himself as soon as he could after 
 imparting his news and muttered, as he went down the 
 street: "Poor old Jim, I wouldn t have done it if I d 
 known how he d take it." 
 
 Jim followed Murphy and walked out toward Michi 
 gan avenue. He halted in front of a cafe he fre 
 quented, then turned down the street. 
 
 "No booze for yours to-day, Jim," he told himself. 
 "This thing you re up against is too serious to be 
 thought out through booze." 
 
 He tramped for hours and returned to his rooms 
 tired out. George brought the ingredients for a whisky 
 and soda, but Jim Gardner, who couldn t remember when 
 he had refused before, pushed the stuff away and asked 
 to be left alone for the evening. 
 
 He carefully took up the threads of life from the 
 day he had met Fly Boyd. One by one, he checked off 
 the services she had rendered him. One by one, he 
 brought back items of cash she had advanced; and he 
 had not repaid. Here he buried his face until its heat 
 was felt in his delicate gambler s fingers. From that he 
 went on to the day when he had gone to her and pleaded 
 that she "fix" certain officials, in order that he might 
 escape conviction for a swindle in which he was impli 
 cated and which would have sent him to Joliet. He 
 had known that she had done this thing; how, he had 
 never asked. What had she said? It came to him 
 her burning, passion-scorched words. He thought of 
 
252 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 her sweet body, her love of cleanliness, and, like a hound 
 on the scent, his mind flew to the men with whom she 
 had dealt in seeking his freedom. As he passed them 
 before him in mental review, as each new face came up 
 leering and bestial, Fly Boyd s cry in protest against this 
 thing that had been demanded of her cut into his heart ; 
 to gain relief, he swore he would have vengeance on the 
 men. 
 
 Then came a vision of a darkened room, and the 
 memory of a woman. Her hands ministered to him, her 
 voice lulled him to sleep and came first to him when he 
 awoke. Through the weeks of convalescence she had 
 brought sunlight to him, and when he was strong enough 
 to take her in his arms now he remembered the look of 
 rapture, the hot, red blushes oh, he had been blind, and 
 all these years he had fed upon her bounty, her love. 
 
 "Within a month you will be back, whining like any 
 other tramp to be fed." Hadn t he gone in just that 
 spirit? And all the time she had loved him, and hoped 
 that love would find an answer in his heart. 
 
 "She was right, Jim, right as a rivet. You are a 
 dog, a dirty, dirty dog. She would have done the world 
 a service if she had put a bullet into you that day. If 
 all women were like her there would be less dogs in the 
 world. But, Jim Gardner, look yourself in the eye, and 
 tell me, are you nothing but a handsome piece of empti 
 ness? That s what she called you." 
 
 He looked into the pier glass, drew himself to his full 
 height, and, shaking his fist at the image of a perfect 
 specimen of physical manhood, concluded: "Jim, you 
 won t give her up, will you? No, not in this life. That s 
 right, old man ; stick to it." 
 
CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 THE MOCK MARRIAGE. 
 
 When Fly Boyd awoke the morning after Jim Gard 
 ner s departure she awoke to an old world with a new 
 meaning. She had seen to it that Jim would know 
 that Holdon was courting her. But so long as she had 
 faith that Jim would respond to her appeal and through 
 (marriage lift her above the traffic of the street, she 
 looked upon Holdon only as a means to gain this end. 
 
 This morning, s he recast her lines, and as she walks 
 back and forth, back and forth across the soft car 
 peted floor, she reminds one of a splendid tigress, rest 
 lessly pacing the space allotted to her behind fixed bars. 
 The fixed bars in Fly Boyd s life were bars to respec 
 tability; she had labored for years to win one man to 
 unlock the door that led out between those bars into 
 the great world beyond. Pacing up and down, up and 
 down, facing life with her love a wreck upon the rock 
 of a man s cold sensuality, she rebelled against a society 
 which puts the keys to this door to the woman s cage 
 in the hands of the man, and thus makes it possible for 
 him, however unworthy he may be, to dictate the terms 
 upon which she may gain her release, while he enjoys 
 the privileges of entering her cage at will. 
 
 When finally seated at her secretary, pen in hand, 
 she had determined to wage relentless war upon the 
 world beyond the bars, and we shall record the results 
 of that warfare without pausing here to moralize upon 
 the attitude of this woman toward the moral code, our 
 outside-of-die-bars people profess to uphold. 
 
 The result of her morning s effort with a pen brought 
 no less a personage than the Hon. Horace Holdon, to 
 her apartments that evening. All the wiles that a beau 
 tiful woman learned in the school of cajolery might 
 bring to bear against a man were deftly plied, and in 
 
 253 
 
254 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 the end, it was decided that she was to accompany the 
 magnate on his vacation. 
 
 In explaining that he might not be able to visit her 
 for three evenings during the next week, the million 
 aire casually mentioned that he would be in Battle Creek, 
 Michigan, during that time. 
 
 Holdon s step was still to be heard on the stair go 
 ing down, when the woman began plotting to destroy 
 him. 
 
 Calling Mamie, she asked the girl to get ready to 
 take a note to a certain cheap hotel on State street. 
 
 The note read: 
 "Dear Tom I m going to ask you to do me a favor. Come 
 
 around to Michigan avenue by nine o clock to-morrow. 
 
 I wouldn t ask this of you, but you know you have insisted 
 that you owe me a debt of gratitude; I m going to let you 
 liquidate it in full. Fly." 
 
 Tom Mitchell arrived on time and was ushered into 
 Fly s parlor, to be received with every mark of affec 
 tion. 
 
 "You poor old dear," she pushed him into a stuffed 
 chair. "You are going down hill. What does the doc 
 tor say?" She put an extra cushion at his back. 
 
 "Six months," was the laconic reply. 
 
 "Six months?" She stepped back and looked at him 
 wide-eyed. "Six months?" she repeated, then began up 
 braiding herself. "Oh, Tom, I hadn t thought of it be 
 ing anywhere as near as that only six months." 
 
 "That s five months and twenty-nine days too many, 
 unless it takes more than a day to do that piece of work 
 for you." 
 
 "No, Tom, we ll cut it out. I can t think of having 
 you expose yourself you might take cold." 
 
 "Why, Fly, you talk like a grandmother," he laugh 
 ed. "Wait a half an hour and I won t look so bad it s 
 the change since you saw me that s what s got on your 
 nerves. I ve been this way for two months and I am 
 not dead yet." 
 
 "But, Tom, I wanted you to go to Battle Creek, 
 Michigan, for a couple of days and marry me." 
 
 "Marry you !" The man stared vacantly at her. 
 
 "Yes, marry me under another name." He sank 
 back and closed his eyes. "It s a game, Tom, a game 
 for big stakes, and I wanted you to help me play it." 
 
THE MOCK MARRIAGE 25$ 
 
 "Go on!" 
 
 "But, Tom, you are not fit for the part, so we had 
 best say no more about it." 
 
 "Oh, yes I am. You know, Flora, I teased you 
 for years to marry me, until I saw my finish, and I ll 
 do it now. Why, I d do it if it had to be done in the 
 name of Old Harry himself." 
 
 "I haven t forgotten, Tom; no, I haven t, and I ll 
 tell you now what I never would before. All these years 
 I ve loved a man, and just the other day I discovered 
 that he did not care for me. So, you see, Tom, we 
 two have a lot in common." S he laughed bitterly. 
 
 "I know the fool, Flora but name the day." 
 
 "The day will be some time this next week. 
 
 "Who am I to be during the ceremony?" 
 
 "H. J. Holdon." 
 
 "Holdon ? Holdon ?" He looked at her with startled 
 eyes. "Not the millionaire iron man?" 
 
 "Yes, Tom, the millionaire." 
 
 "The devil!" 
 
 "No, the millionaire, Tom; they have played with 
 me for the last time, from here on; I am dangerous to 
 any man who comes within reach of me." 
 
 "And here s wishing you good luck," were Tom s 
 parting words when the plot had been fully discussed. 
 
 On Monday morning, he received a short note at the 
 hands of Mamie, containing two crisp bills and a late 
 photo of the Hon. Horace Holdon. This was the pur 
 port of the note: 
 
 "Dear Tom I m sending enough stuff along to tog you out 
 like the original Iron Angel/ You are so near his size and 
 both of you having an equal amount of hair, the only thing 
 necessary to your makeup is that you get yours colored to 
 match enclosed sample. Now don t be jealous; you will be a 
 ringer and go under the wire lengths ahead. As soon as you 
 are fixed up, hike. Get into that quiet little hotel and wait 
 for Mamie. When she arrives, you can get busy. I am glad 
 you re feeling better. Ply." 
 
 The morning after his arrival in Battle Creek, 
 Mitchell received this letter: 
 
 "Dear Tom Everything is working out fine; I will send 
 Mamie to you to-morrow with more dough. Get the license, 
 and if there is any kick on the part of the clerk about keep 
 ing the report back, put up all the money he wants. The 
 thing must be on the quiet; don t do a thing unless you can 
 
256 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 fix the clerk. Then go to a minister. Pick out some poor 
 man who is doing his best to be a Christian on five hundred 
 dollars a year. The years you put in on the stage ought to 
 help you through the con we fixed up. Don t try to bribe 
 him; put up a strong story and offer him one hundred dol 
 lars. Tell him we have more money than we know what 
 to do with. I ll depend on you to clinch the first preacher 
 you tackle. It will be highly dangerous to have one square 
 man with our story in his possession take to leaking. 
 
 "Ply." 
 
 The task of marrying a millionaire without his 
 knowledge might have halted a woman less resourceful 
 than Flora Boyd, but when the Hon. Horace Holdon 
 stepped out of the hotel bus and was followed by a 
 splendidly gowned lady, when they with other new ar 
 rivals, went to the desk and the gentlemen gave way 
 until she had registered as Flora Marie Wieboldt and 
 had been assigned a room ; when she saw the magnate 
 crowd up at her elbow, and put his great, sprawly sig 
 nature on the line below her autograph ; when she heard 
 him ask the clerk to assign him to the room next to 
 that assigned her, when she saw how closely the clerk 
 observed her; she felt sure there would be no hitch in 
 the proceedings. 
 
 She went to her room and had hardly finished her 
 toilet, when the magnate was at her door. There fol 
 lowed three days of unalloyed pleasure for the magnate. 
 When he was not busy closing up his business affairs, 
 he was being entertained by a bewitching woman. And 
 the aforementioned bewitching woman allowed a number 
 of the good citizens of Battle Creek to surmise that the 
 visiting millionaire was a good friend of hers. 
 
 The wedding of a spurious millionaire and Flora 
 Marie Wiebold was attended by Mamie and the minis 
 ter s wife as witnesses, while the genuine millionaire sat 
 in a closed carriage at a point in one of the parks where 
 Fly had promised to meet him for a last drive before 
 going home. The minister had reserved his decision 
 as to withholding his report of the marriage until he 
 saw the bride. When he saw her and she had whispered 
 that her people had been opposed to the match, that 
 she loved Mr. Holdon and her plea of secrecy was made 
 that he might be protected from the annoyance of full- 
 page stories in the Sunday papers would cause him, the 
 
THE MOCK MARRIAGE 257 
 
 gooa man softened. If the minister would only grant 
 their request, they would be in Europe before their re 
 spective families learned the truth. It would save them 
 much trouble. Wouldn t he do it?" 
 
 Then the prospective groom took a hand. 
 
 "I was opposed to a secret marriage at first," he con 
 fided to the minister, "but since Miss Wieboldt insisted 
 so strongly against publicity, I have concluded that there 
 may be a good deal said in defense of the thing. For 
 instance, before going to Europe I have a great deal 
 of business to look after, and naturally I don t want 
 to be annoyed with the worse than senseless drivel one s 
 friends insist on dispensing upon an occasion of this 
 sort. Then, too, it would seem that the law ought to 
 be satisfied when people of our age marry if we go 
 before the proper officer, then go about our business 
 without a flourish of trumpets and an invitation to the 
 newspaper people to write us up and lie about us in an 
 unwholesome manner/* 
 
 The minister surrendered, the marriage ceremony 
 was read, the proper responses made, and Mamie re 
 turned to the city immediately, carrying with her the 
 marriage certificate, duly attested by at least two rep 
 utable people, while the spurious Mr. and Mrs. Holdon 
 hurried to the park where the Honorable Horace Hol 
 don, all impatience, awaited the appearance of the bride. 
 
 As Fly alighted from the carriage, Tom whispered, 
 "I hate to give you up, girl I hate it like sin but here s 
 hoping you pull his leg for a million." 
 
 The answer he received came back on the breeze, as 
 laughing, Fly hastened away to meet the man of mil 
 lions. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 JOEL S PLANS. 
 
 As Joel went out of his father s office a few morn 
 ings after agreeing to take a position at the mine, he 
 chanced to see Mickey Dougherty limping across the 
 street. At the time he only thought that the cripple 
 didn t amount to much and wondered how long his fa 
 ther would keep him on the pay roll. Later, when he 
 began to plan for his little campaign with Estella, 
 Mickey came back into his thoughts and gradually took 
 an assigned place in the maturing plan. From the day 
 of her surrender Estella had been pleading to be taken 
 away from Madame s. She would go anywhere and 
 remain out of sight, if only she might escape the mem 
 ory, ever recurring, of her first hours in the gilded 
 cage. Besides, the whole establishment and everything 
 in it, save one poor, disfigured, little mortal, had become 
 hateful to her. She knew she had paid an awful price 
 for one man s love; but he was such a persistent lover 
 and the picture he painted of a care-free existence out 
 in some quiet little cottage, near to his place of employ 
 ment, had so filled the perspective of her vision that 
 Madame s boarders coarse jests and open sneers were 
 lost upon her. 
 
 The senior Mr. Holdon s announcement that he pro 
 posed to get away from business cares for a year and 
 that he had fixed the time for his departure materially 
 changed Joel s plans for the future. He decided at 
 once to ask his father for a lump sum above his ordi 
 nary allowance, on the plea that he might see his way 
 to a profitable investment while his father was away. 
 This appeal was favorably received and instantly met. 
 Joel was fully equipped to carry out his changed pro 
 gram, which had taken shape even as his father was 
 outlining his own pian for the rest period. 
 
 "Beatrice is so bent upon continuing her work in 
 258 
 
JOEL S PLANS 259 
 
 the slums," he observed to Joel over their cigars, "that 
 she insists upon keeping the house open." 
 
 "She s a fool!" the brother answered. "Not as bad 
 as that, Joel," the father quietly interposed. "I take it 
 that she owes this devotion to charity to her mother. 
 Of course it is a foolish notion and I don t like it, but 
 you know how determined she is. I had thought of 
 asking you to live here " 
 
 "Not for mine," Joel declared. 
 
 The magnate went on as though he had not heard 
 the declaration. "But since you are to get settled down 
 to something, and with a man who knows every kink in 
 the game, I have had to look up some one else, and this 
 time I found a poor relative who can be used to ad 
 vantage." 
 
 "Well, that s good, better get all you can out of em 
 before you die. They ll all be on top of us for a slice 
 of the swag before you re cold." 
 
 Joel threw his cigar away and began rolling a cigar 
 ette. The father frowned across the table, but Joel met 
 his angry gaze without a tremor. "Who s the chaper 
 on?" he inquired, drawing a match across the gold case 
 from which he had extracted it. 
 
 "Sister Nell Bishop has just written Beatrice that 
 she will be pleased to keep house for her." 
 
 "Not that old fire-eater? Why, dad, the house will 
 be overrun with woman suffragists and long-haired 
 geezers who believe in straight- jackets for such gents as 
 you and I. I can see Charley Wetherby s finish if Aunt 
 Nell ever sticks her probe into him." 
 
 "I don t look at it in quite that light," the father 
 hastened to explain. "You see Beatrice has never been 
 in close touch with any of the people who make a pa 
 rade of their love for the poor. When Aunt Nell was 
 here last Beatrice was but a child, and mother was the 
 receptacle into which Nell poured her woes. Now, I 
 have an idea that if we give Beatrice about six months 
 of Aunt Nell, and a taste of close acquaintanceship 
 with short-haired women, she will have enough of the 
 whole tribe and will be writing me to hurry home, so 
 we may get back to a sane way of living." 
 
 "There may be something in it. Yep guess your 
 head is as level on this as on biz, good-by." 
 
26O MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 Horace Holdon sat at the library table long after 
 Joel had gone. He had arranged his business affairs 
 satisfactorily. Price was fully instructed as to the 
 part he was to play in disposing of Charley Harris and 
 his invention. Nothing stood in the way of the Honor 
 able Horace Holdon s contemplated vacation. Fly Boyd, 
 the woman who had been able to stir his blood, as his 
 wife had never done, was willing to visit the Island 
 Continent and Europe with him. As he sat there, 
 thinking of her the physical expression of perfect 
 womanhood he marveled at his passion for her. He 
 reasoned that he could feed it to death and return to 
 business at the end of the year without having a vision 
 of her before his eyes, and a hungry longing for he? 
 presence eating at his heart every hour of the day. It 
 had been that way with all the men he had read or 
 heard of. They had been mad for a time, then when 
 passion had full satisfaction, the madness had passed. 
 As he mulled over the several cases with which he was 
 more or less familiar, a troubled look settled on his 
 face. In not all of the cases in review had the woman 
 been willing to release the man. Scandal, murder, even 
 suicide had followed. The magnate sat thinking yes, 
 he would give it up. It was folly ; what would Beatrice 
 think should there be trouble in the end? He would 
 go to Flora (as he called her) and tell her that his 
 business demanded that he give it his full attention. No, 
 he would not. To get out of town without seeing her 
 that would be the better plan. But, why not have this 
 one fling? The glorious presence of the woman, her 
 hands, her wonderful hands, her eyes looking into his, 
 her lips telling him he was the peer of any man she had 
 ever met. He went to the mirror, stretched himself to 
 his full height and was not disappointed as he gazed 
 upon the well-made, well-kept man the mirror reflected. 
 He would go on with it. 
 
 "You here, father?" 
 
 Beatrice entered the library and threw her arms 
 around her father s neck. 
 
 "I am so glad you are going to have a good time, 
 daddy, so glad, and besides, I want to thank you for 
 suggesting Aunt Nell as my chaperon while you are 
 away. And, daddy, I won t be horrid again if you 
 
JOEL S PLANS 261 
 
 offer me money for my charities. I am glad, too, that 
 Joel is going to do something, though I would have 
 been better satisfied if he could have stayed with us. 
 And, daddy, you must be a good boy while you are 
 away on the other side of the world and write me just 
 lots and lots of letters." 
 
 "Yes, yes," the father promised, as Beatrice patted 
 his hair and picked a speck from his coat. 
 
 On the way downtown, Joel congratulated himself 
 upon having a father who would conveniently remove 
 himself from his little theater of action at the right 
 time. 
 
 "I wonder if Mickey wouldn t be just about the 
 best person to leave with Estella when we get settled. 
 He has always been a tight-mouthed chap as far as I 
 know him, and he s ugly enough and small enough to 
 be trusted with a woman, if I can only get him to keep 
 his mouth shut. I ve got to have some one, and any 
 sort of a woman is out of the question. They would 
 blab. Yes, I ll just have to carry Mickey away for a 
 few months. I wonder what the governor pays him." 
 
 At the Eagle Club he swung off the car and entered 
 the club rooms. Two straight whiskies found lodg 
 ment within his interior before he went up to his rooms. 
 With a cigar between his teeth, in his lounging coat, he 
 puffed the fragrant smoke ceilingward and finished his 
 plan. 
 
 "Gad, I believe Estella loves me. She isn t satisfied 
 unless I m with her all the time. Lord, but I was the 
 lucky dog to get her when I did. And now when I go 
 out to our country nest, my love bird will come plump, 
 plump down stairs and just fall into my arms, with two 
 big kisses and a squeeze for me. Now, Jim/ isn t that 
 rich? And to think there is a Johnson hitched onto 
 the end of it. Ha, ha ! What won t a man do for love 
 of woman? Now, Jim, you naughty boy, don t you 
 know it grieves me to have you away from me down 
 in that wicked city? Yep, wicked city; that s the way 
 she puts it. I wonder who ll be her Jim by this time 
 next year?" 
 
 For a little time Joel sat staring straight ahead, 
 then, shrugging his shoulders, got up, went to the side 
 board and poured a glass of brandy. 
 
262 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "No, I don t love her, it s just her baby ways that 
 get me. By the time they are gone it will be time for 
 me to marry some one. Let s see; I guess I ll not tell 
 her a different story ; I m in the lumber trade to her and 
 to all the folks I have to meet in the town I take her to. 
 Why wouldn t Michigan City do for our home; it s far 
 enough away from her folks and close enough to Chi 
 cago for me. Yes, I m in the lumber trade and my 
 cards will read, Mr. Jas. Y. Johnson, Portland, Ore 
 gon. That puts my home address far enough away so 
 that should she ever take a notion to make trouble for 
 me, she ll have a nice, long trip and an interesting hunt 
 for my people. The next move is to square Mickey 
 with the game and take him along to help get things 
 in shape in Michigan City. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 AGITATORS IN THE PLANT. 
 
 Harris had been gone four days and Mickey one, 
 when Price went to Moran to inquire if he had any 
 word from Harris. 
 
 "No, sir, and the cripple hasn t showed up this 
 morning." 
 
 "Well, as he s the only one who knows about Har 
 ris whereabouts, I wish you would get his address from 
 the boy when he comes." 
 
 Moran, who had made application for membership 
 in the moulder s union the night before, passed a wink 
 to Carson, the big moulder, as much as to say, they d 
 keep Harris address in their own hands until they 
 landed him in the union. 
 
 In the office, Hon. Horace Holdon was giving his 
 attention to the various bits of information and in 
 struction he still felt it necessary to impart to his man 
 Price, before he started on his vacation. 
 
 "Well, Price, before I leave, I would like to know 
 just how far you have gotten in your negotiations with 
 young Harris." 
 
 He lit a cigar, and as Price wasn t hurrying with an 
 answer, he went on: "I wrote our congressman a 
 month ago, asking him to have a good, reliable lawyer 
 investigate the matter thoroughly. He reports that 
 there isn t a thing, either in the Patent Office or in the 
 hands of any of the patent attorneys he could reach, 
 that touches that machine of Harris . So, you see, we 
 have every incentive to push this matter to a successful 
 issue. Don t haggle with him; agree to anything he 
 asks, but push the thing through and be sure to get 
 duplicates of all his drawings. You know the steps 
 to be taken when you have the whole thing in your 
 hands. Now, how far have you gotten with him? 
 
 Mr. Holdon leaned back in anticipation of a favor 
 able report. 
 
 268 
 
264 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "You know I only got at him last week, Mr. Holdon, 
 and I m taking it slowly. You see, it s a rather deli 
 cate business, and I want to be sure " 
 
 "Yes, yes, that s all right, Price, but we want to 
 make headway. I d hurry the thing along as fast as 
 possible. When I get back next year, I expect to be in 
 a position, with that machine, to wipe out all competi 
 tion on small casting. We ve got the big business now 
 and that machine will give us the rest of it. We must 
 have it, so don t make any mistakes in handling your 
 end of it." 
 
 "Trust me for that. I anticipate but little difficulty 
 in landing Harris." 
 
 With a grunt of satisfaction, the magnate took up 
 another matter in which we are interested. 
 
 "Here s a letter," he said, turning with the docu 
 ment in his hand, "from the Corporations Protective. 
 They have the required membership of one hundred 
 over subscribed, and are prepared to furnish union 
 moulders, machinists, or other mechanics, or men who 
 will join those unions, on short notice. " 
 
 "That s something like," the superintendent ex 
 claimed, rubbing his hands. 
 
 "Yes, and I would advise you to get three men from 
 them, a moulder, a machinist, and a general utility man, 
 should there be a symptom of trouble in the shops." 
 
 "I will if it s necessary, but the men seem quiet 
 enough these days and I don t anticipate trouble. I did, 
 you know, when I suggested that you go into this Cor 
 porations Protective Association, but I guess the con 
 servative element is on top now." 
 
 "That s good. Do you think of anything else, 
 Price?" He asked the question with his eyes on the 
 clock. 
 
 "N o, I guess we have everything well in hand." 
 
 In the shops, word was passed from man to man, 
 that Holdon had left the plant in charge of "Stinker" 
 Price. To a handful of picked men, word was passed 
 that three foremen, Moran on the casting floor, Weeks 
 in the tool room and Yancey of the machinists had 
 agreed to stand by the unions and would make room in 
 
AGITATORS IN THE PLANT 265 
 
 their departments for men who were competent organ 
 izers. 
 
 About a month after Holdon s departure, John Bui- 
 man happened into the machinists headquarters just as 
 the secretary received word that Yancey had come 
 across and an organizer could be used in the great 
 Holdon Shops. 
 
 Turning to John, he asked, "What are you doing, 
 Bulman?" 
 
 "Doing time," John laughed. "Doing time in God s 
 great world-prison, and unless I quit pretty soon, my 
 jailer will refuse to give me even bread and water, un 
 less I beg for it." 
 
 "More of your confounded Socialism," the secre 
 tary snapped. 
 
 "Why, no, that s nothing but gospel truth, trimmed 
 up to take the raw edge off." 
 
 "Well, I was thinking of giving you an organizer s 
 job, but, Bulman, you would have to cut out your po 
 litical work while handling this job, for it is delicate in 
 the extreme and a misstep might prevent us from get 
 ting old Holdon where we want him." 
 
 "Holdon? Not the Holdon company?" 
 
 "Yes, the Holdon company, and if we are able to 
 carry out our plans we ll force the plant into a closed 
 shop agreement." John whistled. 
 
 "Say, Barnes, is that where you wanted to put me?" 
 
 "Yes. Yancey, you know him; well, he s with us." 
 
 "Yancey? By the eternals, Barnes, he s the strong 
 est man in that shop. I want to congratulate you ; why, 
 he s got a head on his shoulders ; I ll take the job under 
 Old Man Yancey. You need not be afraid." 
 
 "All right," the secretary broke in. "How much of 
 an advance do you wan/t?" 
 
 John blushed as he thought Barnes had divined how 
 hard up he really was. How he had been stretching his 
 credit from week to week, and wondering each day 
 when the butcher, baker, grocer, and landlord would be 
 gin to suspect that his cheery smile and hearty greet 
 ing were really counterfeit. 
 
 "Well, Barnes, I could use any amount, but you see 
 when I get on the pay roll, I won t need help from the 
 office." 
 
266 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "The job will pay you five dollars per day and ex 
 penses," Barnes announced, handing John twenty-five 
 dollars and pushing a voucher out for his signature. 
 
 "And Old Man Yancey came over. Won t he be 
 surprised when I present myself for the position? It s 
 just six years since he left the Nixon company and went 
 over to Holdon s. How he used to curse the unions 
 and call me an anarchist. Won t he be surprised?" 
 
 John visited his grocer and butcher on the way home 
 and informed them, as he made a payment on account, 
 that he had the promise of a good job and would soon 
 be able to square up. At home, he met his wife at the 
 door. 
 
 "Sweetheart, we are going to live on Easy street," 
 he announced. 
 
 "Get a job, father?" The question came from Rob s 
 room. 
 
 John released his wife, who sat down smiling 
 through her tears, and rushed into the boy s room. 
 
 "Sure thing, son." 
 
 "Isn t that fine?" The boy looked up and laughed. 
 
 "But, not a word to our good angel," the father 
 warned, with a shaking finger, as he went back to the 
 kitchen. 
 
 John went to Yancey s home that night. 
 
 "Well, of all men! John, I ve thought of you a 
 thousand times." Yancey was holding one of John s 
 hands in both of his and shaking it, too. "Do you re 
 member what a fool I used to be, Bulman?" 
 
 John laughingly answered, "We all take a turn at it, 
 Yancey." 
 
 "Yes, yes, yes," the host laughed, as he led John back 
 to the sitting rom and introduced his wife and daugh 
 ter. 
 
 For a time, they talked of the men they had known 
 at Nixon s, then John broached the subject of Holdon s 
 departure and inquired if everything was quiet at the 
 works. Yancey answered in the affirmative, and get 
 ting up suggested that it was time they were going or 
 they would be late. Outside he said: 
 
 "John, my wife doesn t know I ve gone into this 
 
AGITATORS IN THE PLANT 26/ 
 
 business, and after the way I educated her I m ashamed 
 to tell her; and besides, I take it, you came from the 
 union and we will need to know we are alone before 
 we begin to talk business. 
 
 At Holdon s the morning after Bulman s visit with 
 Yancey, three new men were put to work. Each one a 
 representative of the organized workers in the depart 
 ment to which he had been assigned. For years, the 
 foremen at Holdon s had had full control of the men 
 under them, both hiring and discharging. When Moran 
 found a man incompetent, he simply presented the 
 worker with a time-slip and sent him to the office. 
 Holdon had always insisted that he could get more 
 work out of a foreman and the men under him in this 
 way than he had ever been able to get when the fore 
 man had to carry his grievances to the office. Price 
 had always considered this a curtailment of the func 
 tions of the superintendent and Holdon was hardly out 
 of the city when he began to plan a change. Had he 
 acted immediately, three union workers would not have 
 been hired and four men who bore the reputation of 
 being "leakers" would still have held their jobs. 
 
 Price, having finally formulated his plans, sent word 
 to five of his foremen to meet him in the office. Yancey 
 was first to arrive and his surprise grew as, one after 
 another, the men came in. 
 
 Price gave each a cheery "Good morning" as he 
 entered. When all were seated, he faced them. "Gen 
 tlemen," he began, "you know of course that Mr. Holdon 
 left me in sole charge of the business when he went 
 to Europe. That being the case, you can understand 
 that I am anxious to make the best possible showing; 
 that is, I want the books to show a gain in both output 
 and profits when Mr. Holdon returns." 
 
 The men looked at each other, but did not reply. 
 
 "I have determined to make an investigation of each 
 department and, with your assistance, institute certain 
 changes which I have long believed would benefit the 
 ledger." 
 
 He eyed each man in turn before he proceeded. 
 
 "In the first place, I want closer co-operation with 
 you gentlemen who are over the men. And it has oc 
 curred to me, as the initial measure in inaugurating my 
 
268 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 plan, that it will be necessary for me to be as close to 
 my working force as possible; consequently, from to 
 day you will send any complaint you may have against 
 men in your several departments to the office, and if on 
 investigation the complaint is sustained, I will eithei 
 discharge or transfer the men to other departments." 
 
 "Mr. Price, I certainly shall have to " Moran 
 
 interrupted, when he caught a signal from Yancey, 
 "have to insist to insist that my complaints be acted 
 upon at once, if I want to get rid of them," he finished 
 lamely, while Price smiled. 
 
 "Certainly, certainly, Mr. Moran," he agreed. "In 
 the matter of hiring men, I believe the same rule should 
 govern, consequently you will send men who apply, to 
 the office with such recommendation as you see fit to 
 give. I will assign them to the various departments. 
 
 Wilson, who had charge of the pattern-shop and all 
 woodwork, got to his feet. 
 
 "Mr. Price, I want to ask you one question," he 
 announced in a loud voice. 
 
 "A dozen," Price replied, and added, "I would ad 
 vise that you lower your voice, Mr. Wilson; I am in 
 clined to believe that none of us are deaf." 
 
 Wilson s face was red with anger, as he went on. 
 
 "The question I want to ask is this : Did Mr. Holdon 
 authorize you to make this revolutionary change?" 
 
 "And I must insist, Mr. Wilson, "that your ques 
 tion is impertinent. What Mr. Holdon suggested or 
 did not suggest is outside the question. I am in 
 charge " 
 
 Wilson interrupted in turn. "I object to any such 
 change. I know my business. Having held my place 
 for more years than you have been here months is 
 my warrant." 
 
 "I am of the same mind." Miller, of the shipping- 
 rooms announced shortly. While Price, giving all his 
 time to these two insurgents, failed to note that the 
 three union foremen had sent the signal to "lay low" 
 down the line. 
 
 "Mr. Wilson and Mr. Miller seem to forget that 
 even a foreman may be discharged for insubordination," 
 Price announced. 
 
 And the insurgents gave it back to him. 
 
AGITATORS IN THE PLANT 269 
 
 "Consider that you have my resignation and act upon 
 it at once," came from Wilson. 
 
 "Here, too, you want to get a good, bright office boy 
 to handle my job," Miller announced and started for 
 the door. 
 
 "Gentlemen, gentlemen, this will never do." Yancey 
 was on his feet and Miller stopped with his hand on the 
 knob. 
 
 While Price leaned against his desk, rather shaken 
 at this unexpected development of opposition to his 
 plans. 
 
 "I am inclined to think we should yield to Mr. 
 Price s suggestion," Yancey broke in. "He has told us 
 his single purpose in suggesting these changes is to 
 make a better showing. Now, if the whole business 
 shows a betterment, this will be reflected, only in lesser 
 degree, in the various departments." He paused, and 
 facing Miller, gave him the broadest wink possible and 
 Wilson caught it. "Now, I take it that Mr. Price is not 
 going to harbor ill will toward any of us, even if we 
 have not felt like giving up our control over the men." 
 
 "Not at all, gentlemen," Price hastened to assure 
 them. "I want men who are able to defend their opin 
 ions. If Mr. Wilson and Mr. Miller will listen to my 
 further reasons for desiring this change, I believe they 
 will take the same view of the matter as Mr. Yancey." 
 
 The insurgents sat down and Price went on. "I 
 take it for granted that each of you appreciates the 
 present situation as regards organized labor. In this 
 plant, there is but one department that may be said to 
 be a closed shop and that is the pattern-shop. In all 
 the other departments we have men who belong to the 
 unions and those who do not. As far as I am con 
 cerned, I would agree that this policy continue, but I 
 am satisfied that organized labor will not be as chari 
 table. Some day, these labor skates, living upon a 
 salary drawn from the wage of misguided workers, will 
 be forced to make an effort to organize this plant. 
 
 It was to circumvent this very thing, to make it im 
 possible for the unions to load us up with their mem 
 bership, also to prevent some union sympathizing fore 
 man no reflection on any of you from discharging 
 safe men and taking on union men, which led me to de- 
 
270 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 cide upon this change. In a word, I want to be pre 
 pared to meet any attempt on the part of the unions to 
 gain a stronger foothold in this plant. And I want to 
 suggest that if any of you have outspoken advocates of 
 unionism in your departments, you get busy and find 
 some grounds upon which we may discharge them, with 
 out stirring up the men too much. Now, gentlemen, if 
 there is no further opposition" he waited, looking at 
 both Miller and* Wilson "we will consider the matter 
 as settled." No one entering an objection, he continued, 
 "I have also decided to change the present pay system, 
 at least on a part of the work, and I have prepared 
 these blanks. At present, we have entirely too much 
 day labor, and I want you gentlemen to make a careful 
 estimate on the work you have in charge, and fill out 
 these blanks, showing the averages as indicated. To 
 gether with this, I desire that you should carefully go 
 over your work and determine how much of it may be 
 put on a piece-work basis. I will admit that the read 
 justment of a wage scale is always a delicate matter, 
 but if we go about it carefully and make our reductions 
 gradually we may be assured that the men will not 
 cause trouble, especially as we have but few organized 
 workers to deal with. When you turn in these reports, 
 and I would like to have them by Saturday noon, we 
 will be well along toward a practical application of my 
 plan." 
 
 The men filed out. 
 
 "Drunk with power," Wilson commented. 
 
 "I d like to see him cut wages in the pattern-shop," 
 was Miller s grim comment. 
 
 Yancey, Moran and Brush, had occasion to visit each 
 other that afternoon. 
 
 "I m going to slash my non-union men to the core," 
 Moran told Yancey. 
 
 "Say, Yancey," Brush whispered when the machinist 
 called upon him, "I m going to put three-fourths of my 
 men on piece-work and set the price where they will 
 have to hump to save themselves from a twenty per 
 cent loss in wages." 
 
 Yancey laughed and went back to his department. 
 He went to Bulman, and told him of the conference. 
 
 "You say you are all right with him? Then for 
 
AGITATORS IN THE PLANT 2/1 
 
 God s sake keep right. You may be the means of saving 
 the whole works." 
 
 "I don t see how," said Yancey. 
 
 Til tell you. If you are in his confidence, go to 
 him and suggest that he ought to have two or three 
 good safe men who could get into the unions, so as to 
 keep posted. If this company s already in the spy fur 
 nishing conspiracy against the workers, he ll give it 
 away." 
 
 "But, Bulman, won t that fix my clock," Yancey de 
 manded. "Suppose the spies get into the union, where 
 do I get off?" 
 
 "Nixie, the first spies they send out here, will get 
 their blocks knocked off before they ever see the union. 
 We need the spies in our business. You know there are 
 several men under you that you are afraid to trust. Well, 
 the spy comes on and lines them up. We pass the 
 word to all the men we can trust to lay low, and you 
 and the spy and Price do business. In this department, 
 we want our spy to be a man who is willing to join the 
 union; be sure to get that kind. Then we ll get a line 
 on the men and later initiate the spy and he ll never for 
 get it as long as he lives." 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 MICKEY IN A NEW SETTING. 
 
 "Dey s somethin rotten wrong in dis house; de 
 Missus is a bein flim-flammed. She ain t none of yer 
 fly-up-the-creeks ; she s a lady, an by grab, I loves 
 (her." 
 
 The speaker, our old friend Mickey, brought his 
 knuckles down upon the floor of the little back porch 
 with such emphasis that the next moment he had them 
 before his lips blowing for dear life. 
 
 "He s another stinker, James Y. Johnson is, th 
 dirty welcher. An here s me as thought first off dat 
 de girl was one of dem as changes deir names over 
 night. But she ain t; she s jest de sweetest piece o 
 calico in de world, an Joel Holdon, he lied like a dog 
 first t her an den t me." 
 
 "Mickey, Mickey, come here," a voice floated out 
 from the kitchen. 
 
 "Listen t dat, now, just like a bird." The cripple 
 sprang to his feet. "Comin , Missus." 
 
 "Oh, Mickey, Mr. Johnson writes me from Chicago 
 that he will be home to-morrow. He s just back from a 
 trip west." 
 
 "Huh ;" Mickey snorted, <and the young woman paus 
 ed, flushed, and looked at him steadily. Laying down 
 the letter, she sat looking at him until he became rest 
 less under her steady gaze. 
 
 "Mickey," she began, "I have often caught you look 
 ing at me as though you were trying to make up your 
 mind to either ask me a question or tell me something, 
 which was it?" She smiled and Mickey, shuffling his 
 feet, stammered an incomprehensible answer. 
 
 "Which was it, Mickey?" There was pleading in her 
 voice ; a pleading the great heart in him could not easily 
 resist. 
 
 "Both ov em, Missus; both ov em." He looked 
 272 
 
MICKEY IN A NEW SETTING 273 
 
 into her beautiful eyes; looked and was blinded; for, in 
 the months he had served her as chore boy, a man s 
 love had come to dwell with him, a poor misshaped bit 
 of abused clay. "But, Missus, I don t dare t ask youse 
 nothin , an I don t dare t tell youse nathin least not, 
 till yer man has gone away agin." 
 
 "Gone away again, Mickey ! Gone away again ! You 
 must be joking. James is not going away again until 
 
 after " She blushed. "Well, not for a long, long 
 
 time." 
 
 "I hopes so, lady, God bless youse, I hopes so;" and 
 Mickey hurried out. 
 
 For a time, Estella sat dreaming of the home-coming 
 of her lord and master, planning her little campaign of 
 endearments and the future she anticipated. 
 
 "Well, I declare," she exclaimed, running to the 
 door. "I forgot that I wanted Mickey to go downtown 
 for me. Mickey! Oh, Mickey!" 
 
 On the way downtown, Mickey s emotions well nigh 
 choked him. 
 
 "Mr. Johnson, who s Mr. Johnson," he muttered. 
 "Dat I passes me word t th welcher dat I don t never 
 breathe his name t no one an I done it afore I know- 
 ed w at he wanted ov me. If I d a-knowed w at he was 
 doin if I d a-knowed. But, he ain t seed th last of 
 de deal not by no manner ov means, he ain t." Mickey 
 shook his fist at a telephone pole at that moment doing 
 duty in his imagination as Mr. James Y. Johnson. 
 "Youse jist try it on, Mr. Johnson youse jist get gay 
 an go to a makin her cry, an carry on youse jist 
 try it!" 
 
 On the way back home he began to dig deeper into 
 the relationship existing between his master and mis 
 tress. 
 
 "I d give a purty t know how he got her why, she s 
 a angel. An all th time she talks jist like she s 
 fixed fer life. I knows she thinks she s his wife, all 
 regular, but it stands t reason she ain t. Fer why, she 
 thinks his name is Mr. Johnson, w en I knows it s Joel 
 Holdon; an she thinks he s a workin in a lumber 
 biz somewheres, w en he s jist gamblin , an lushin , an 
 spendin de old man s coin." As he came in sight of 
 the little cottage, he looked up. "Dere she is, an she s 
 
274 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 a thinkin Joel Holdon is a-comin home t stay. I wisht 
 I hadn t never promised him nothin ." 
 
 After delivering his purchases into the hands of his 
 mistress, he went to his room to think over the situa 
 tion. 
 
 The next day, Estella, all a-flutter with excitement, 
 sent Mickey down to meet the first train from the city, 
 telling him Mr. Johnson would probably have more 
 packages than he could conveniently carry. The train 
 came and Mickey hurried home. 
 
 "I thought youse might be anxious," he told her, and 
 went back to meet the next train. Four times, he made 
 his round trip that day, and each time the mistress had 
 shown deeper distress. "Ef he don t come, I ll go an 
 git him he ll come w en I whistles I ll bet him dat," 
 was his grim comment as he went back for the nine- 
 twenty train. 
 
 Mr. Johnson swung down from a Pullman, spied 
 Mickey, handed him a suitcase and parcel. 
 
 "Well, Mick, how s things up at the palace?" 
 
 "All O. K., captain, an she s bin a waitin fer youse 
 all day. I made every darned train on de card; next 
 time youse ud greatly oblige me by a-statin w at train 
 yer a-goin t fetch up on, see?" 
 
 "And she s been looking for me all day? Well, I 
 have been gone a long time." He turned square upon 
 the cripple. "Say, Mick, think she smells a mouse?" 
 Mickey did not answer as quickly as his master expected. 
 "Hey, Mick, are you dreaming? Why don t you an 
 swer?" 
 
 "I didn t know any mouse was dead," was the an 
 swer, and it came in a muffled voice. 
 
 "Answer my question," Joel commanded. 
 
 "Well, no, captain, I don t reckon dere s anybody on 
 dis here earth ud make her smell a mouse lest youse did 
 it yerself." 
 
 "You haven t talked to her, told her anything?" 
 
 "No, captain." 
 
 "Has she had any visitors since I ve been gone?" 
 
 Mickey set the suitcase down and laid the parcel 
 on top of it, while Joel stood with his hands in his 
 pockets, wondering. 
 
 "See here, Mr. Joel Holdon, I " 
 
MICKEY IN A NEW SETTING 275 
 
 "Shut up, you fool !" Joel had him by the collar. 
 
 "Let loose ov me, youse welcher!" Mickey exploded 
 and began kicking and scratching for all he was worth. 
 
 Joel let loose and backed off. 
 
 "Well, what s the matter with you?" he asked the 
 panting cripple. 
 
 "Nothin ain t th matter with me? Oh, no! I m 
 all right, all right." Mickey laughed wickedly. "Youse 
 put yer han s on me agin an see. I ll rip th guzzlins 
 out of youse, see ef I don t." 
 
 "Pick up those traps, you little devil, and come along. 
 I ll settle with you to-morrow." Joel turned on his heel 
 and went on towards *he house. 
 
 Mickey came behind muttering "Hires me t work 
 fer him an makes me promise I won t never tell no 
 one he s a liar an a fraud. Now he wants me to 
 spy on th woman he s a-foolin with me as ud lay 
 . down in dis street an let all de wagons in town run 
 over me ef ut ud do her any good in de world. He s 
 go-in t settle with me to-morrow no, no, I don t git 
 canned not dis trip. Me wages goes up, an I buys 
 a gun an learns to shoot it, too ; an as long s I se actin 
 a lie every day an am a helpin t spoil her life, why 
 they can t be no more sin in lyin t him an I m goin 
 f do it, see ef I don t." 
 
 The next morning, Mickey was down in the kitchen 
 kindling a fire, when Joel entered. He stood looking 
 at the cripple for a long time. 
 
 "Say, youse have knowed me fer some time, ain t 
 yer?" The cripple turned. Joel laughed. 
 
 "Well, Mick/ said he. "You haven t forgotten our 
 little misunderstanding of last night, I see. But, what 
 the devil you got mad at is beyond me." 
 
 "I ain t mad," Mickey announced, and to drown the 
 sound of the lie in his own ears, he created a great com 
 motion among the stove lids. 
 
 During the commotion, Estella entered the room, her 
 eyes red from weeping, and her pretty face showing 
 evidence of having passed through a storm. Joel look 
 ed quickly from one to the other of these two persons 
 he played with; but if he hoped to catch a covert look 
 of mutual understanding or sympathy, he failed. Mickey 
 with one swift look as Estella entered the door, read 
 
276 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 enough to put him on his guard, and as soon as he 
 could, he got out of the kitchen. 
 
 After breakfast, Joel called him and ordered the 
 suitcase he had brought the night before, taken to the 
 depot. 
 
 "Hike out with it, Mickey I ll be down in time for 
 the ten o clock train." With that, he hurried back to the 
 house. 
 
 "Well, I ll be literally chawed inter bits; an he s 
 goin ter quit her to-day, after all she s been plannin 
 fer him th brute ! Oh, Mickey, Mickey, ef youse was 
 jist as big as Jim Jeffries, wouldn t youse take de low 
 lived stinker by de back ov de neck and shake th devil 
 out ov him ? Wouldn t youse ? well, I guess yes." He 
 halted out of sight of the house, threw the suitcase on 
 -the pavement, kicked it up against the fence, sat upon 
 it and took stock of the situation. "Now, he s goin t 
 try t shake her, dat s plain as a cop in a saloon, an 
 he can t no ways do it less he squares me dat s more 
 of it. Now, spose he tries t square me how much am 
 I goin t touch him fer? But first, is he a-goin* f 
 square me ? Yep, less he s lookin fer about all kinds ov 
 hell t break loose an am I goin t stay squared yep 
 agin Mickey, till youse gits enough rocks t take de 
 missus back t Chi. when th house falls down." Pick 
 ing up the baggage, he trudged on and reached the de 
 pot just a few minutes before Joel entered. His face 
 flushed and his voice hoarse. 
 
 "Hi, there, Mick," he sang out. "Bring that lug 
 gage over here." 
 
 When the cripple set the suitcase down at the side 
 of the seat, Joel caught him by the arm. 
 
 "Sit down here, Mickey; I want to talk to you. Now 
 see here, I want to have a thorough understanding with 
 you. You remember, you promised me you would never 
 tell any one anything about this little spree of mine." 
 Mickey nodded. "You promised also, that you would not 
 let Estella pump anything out of you." Another nod. 
 "Well, have you kept your word ?" 
 
 "Yes, siree. Kept it t date, captain." He looked 
 up squarely. "But, I m goin t quit t -day." 
 
 "The devil you are !" 
 
 "Yep, dis s my last trip fer youse." 
 
MICKEY IN A NEW SETTING 277 
 
 "What s the rip, Mickey?" Joel showed his uneasi 
 ness. 
 
 "De game isn t goin to be jist as pleasant as pick- 
 nickin frum now on an th wages is too small fer me 
 t listen t a cryin woman an stan all th pumpin 
 they s likely t be fore youse git her palmed off onto 
 some other guy." 
 
 <> "So that s it. Mickey, you gave me a -bad turn last 
 night ; I thought you had gone over to the side of virtue, 
 and was going to work for love" the cripple winced and 
 looked down "instead of working for me and money." 
 
 "No danger ov me gittin much out ov love, is dey, 
 captain?" The bitterness in the face of the youth de 
 ceived Joel, who took it to mean that the lad s misfor 
 tune had made him immune. 
 
 "That s right, Mick, there is mighty little in it but 
 trouble anyway. You re as well off and now to busi 
 ness. I ll give you two dollars per day, and you are to 
 look after things closely and keep me posted about how 
 she acts. I won t see her again for a month, and by 
 that time she ought to have sense enough to see what s 
 up, and begin to talk sense. I want you to go to a 
 second-hand man some day this week and sell all the furni 
 ture, everything, and I ll write her where to go. I left two 
 hundred dollars up at the house in the first volume of 
 Cooper s works; you take charge of it, and if you get 
 her to move out of here quietly, I ll give you all you 
 get out of the furniture and stuff up at the house. The 
 two hundred dollars is to see you settled at the other 
 end of the line." 
 
 Mickey was puzzled his question showed it. 
 
 "What what youse want t move fer?" 
 
 "Well, Mick, since you are going to stand by me 
 until I get out of this scrape, I ll tell you. Estella hasn t 
 had any more sense than to get into trouble, and if we 
 stay here, all the old cats in the neighborhood will know 
 all she can tell them; and she told me last night that 
 four or five of them were getting very friendly." 
 
 Mickey bit his lips until he almost cried out. The 
 train whistled; Joel pulled out a card and scribbled an 
 address upon it. 
 
 "Don t ever let her see that card she s got a differ 
 ent address. When I get you moved, I ll give you an- 
 
278 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 other name and you can get my letters without any dan 
 ger of her getting next. Don t forget about the furni 
 ture. I ll write or wire her where you are to go." 
 
 Here the train pulled in and Joel climbed aboard. 
 
 "Well, w at d youse think ov dait, Mickey Dougherty ? 
 Th cold-blooded sinner. He s goin t move her, an 
 as soon as she gits a friend dere we ll move agin, until 
 she gits tired an either kills herself r goes straight t 
 th devil. An I m t help de son-of-a-gun. But say, 
 I m goin t have de money t help put a spoke in his 
 wheel." Slowly he made his way home. "I d drather 
 be in de hot place with me feet in th fire dan t go 
 an have her ask me anything," he told himself as he 
 halted at the gate. 
 
 Yesterday, he had stood at this same gate and lis 
 tened to her sweet love song, sung for a man unworthy. 
 He waited, pretending to be interested in the traffic of 
 the street, lest she should chance to see him and suspect 
 him of listening. 
 
 "She ain t singin dis mornin , poor little bird," he 
 whispered as he slammed the gate and whistled to let 
 her know that he had arrived. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 A HOBBY AND ITS RIDER. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Bulman, I came all the way over here 
 alone, just to see you, so you must be good and do 
 what I ask." The speaker, Miss Holdon, came out of 
 the sick boy s room to meet John as he came into the 
 living room. 
 
 "Well, I declare!" John exclaimed, extending his 
 hand. "How are you ? Do you know, I ve been wonder 
 ing how your new hobby behaved. I was thinking of 
 you as I came home, and mourned because the great 
 cause loses your enthusiasm while you spend your efforts 
 trying to break new hobbies to ride." His eyes nar 
 rowed to a mere slit, and his face took on a look, half 
 banter, half protest. "Do you know what set me think 
 ing of you ?" 
 
 "No, I don t, and besides, you are real mean to call 
 me a hobby jockey." 
 
 "Well, do you want to know?" 
 
 "Of course I do. Tell me." 
 
 "All right, Miss Holdon. It was a corps of the 
 Salvation Army, marching with music and song, up and 
 down a nasty, dirty, half-paved street. I stood and 
 watched them quite a spell. The great majority of them 
 believe in their work, are consistent, earnest and intense ; 
 but how much enthusiasm they are wasting! They be 
 wail the effects of sin, when they might so easily reach 
 down to grapple with the great primal cause of sin and 
 suffering. I came along toward home, and from think 
 ing of them I came to think of you and your work." 
 
 "And you think it useless ?" she demanded, but with 
 out resentment. 
 
 "No, only a great waste suffered, that a mite of 
 transient good may be accomplished." 
 
 "But surely, Mr. Bulman, you do not understand the 
 
 279 
 
28O MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 work I am doing now," she insisted, with a strong in 
 flection on the "now." 
 
 "No?" 
 
 "I came here to-night to get you to assist me, at least 
 to the extent of delivering one address before our new 
 club." 
 
 "And because I call your work a hobby, you think 
 I am going to disappoint you ?" John laughed. "No, no, 
 Miss Holdon, nothing in the world so delights a Socialist 
 as to be able to put burs under the saddle on a hobby 
 horse, then watch the animal throw the next one who 
 mounts it." 
 
 "That s perfectly horrid of you," Beatrice pouted. 
 Then, brightening, went on: "I challenge you to make 
 your old Socialist burs stick this time so there !" 
 
 "I ve put my foot in it, haven t I, mother?" he in 
 quired of his wife, who sat smiling. 
 
 "Trust Miss Holdon for that," she answered. 
 
 John, with a hearty laugh, turned his attention to 
 their visitor. 
 
 "You ve heard it said that a thorough Socialist never 
 was known to refuse an opportunity to try the sticking 
 qualities of his burs, have you not?" 
 
 "I ve heard it said, and quite recently, that a So 
 cialist never knew when he was worsted in an argument, 
 because, because" the girl seemed embarrassed, and 
 John laughingly finished the statement for her. "Be 
 cause his premise is impossible, his whole philosophy in 
 the air, as it were." 
 
 "That s it, that s it !" she. exclaimed, "but I don t 
 believe half of it. You know there s lots of things upon 
 which we agree." 
 
 "Yes, I know you re playing with fire, but we won t 
 discuss that any more. When do I get my chance to 
 try the burs on your hobby?" He was smiling at her 
 as he asked the question. 
 
 "Two weeks from to-night, at my house," she re 
 plied. 
 
 "At your home? Why, is it possible that you arc 
 going to carry open rebellion against capitalism into 
 your home?" 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Bulman, you always put things in such an 
 extreme way," she protested. 
 
A HOBBY AND ITS RIDER 28 1 
 
 "Yes," John answered, there are two extremes. 
 Your splendidly appointed home represents one, the so 
 cial rebel you invite to enter its beautiful portals repre 
 sents the other, and we cannot harmonize or fra 
 ternize." 
 
 "You might come under a flag of truce," the girl in 
 terposed, brightly. 
 
 "No, not in this fight, where no quarter is asked, and 
 none is given. The struggle is to the death; the white 
 flag never flies. I might add" his tyes twinkled "that 
 stragglers between the lines mounted on hobbies that 
 rock forward and back, back and forward, are apt to 
 get hurt." 
 
 "Anyway, I promise you we shall not take you cap 
 tive," the girl said, as she got up and gathered her 
 wraps. 
 
 "All right, Miss Holdon, I ll carry the war into the 
 enemy s country. At what time?" he asked, as she pre 
 pared to depart. 
 
 "At eight o clock, and I must thank you in ad 
 vance." 
 
 "No, save your thanks until after the battle." 
 
 "I wonder what she wants me to talk on," John mur 
 mured. "It s a good thing for us that there are only 
 a few such women in the world, mother. If all of them 
 were like her, their charity and love would disarm the 
 fighters and reduce the mass of our women and children 
 to beggary unless we could " 
 
 "Why, John, how. can you say such a thing?" the 
 wife protested stoutly. "I am sure Miss Holdon is an 
 angel. I wish all rich women were like her." 
 
 "There, there, mother, your answer is my justifica 
 tion." 
 
 "Your justification!" the wife repeated indignantly. 
 "John Bulman, you never talk anything but riddles to 
 me." 
 
 "And you have never guessed one of them in your 
 whole life, have you, mother?" He took her by the 
 shoulder, and shook her gently, lovingly, and stooped 
 to kiss her. 
 
 "There, you goose, it s bed-time," she replied. John 
 let her go, and as he did so a little cloud crossed his 
 smiling face. 
 
282 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "Where in the world have you been, child?" Aunt 
 Nell demanded, with a great show of interest, on 
 Beatrice s return from Bulman s. 
 
 "Auntie, I went out to capture a lion, as you call 
 them, for our next Ethical Study Club meeting, and 
 I m going to give them a really and truly surprise. 
 
 "Who is the lion?" The aunt eyed the radiant girl 
 narrowly. "Who s your lion?" she asked again. 
 
 "Mr. Bulman, a Socialist, and a gentleman, but a 
 man awfully radical in his views." 
 
 "Oh, radical, is he, and a Socialist? Now, my dear, 
 if you would only listen." Two pretty hands went up, 
 and Beatrice put her ringers in her ears. 
 
 "I won t listen, Auntie, not to one who says I can t 
 have my lion, and give our club a real surprise." 
 
 "My dear, you may not listen now, but I warn you. 
 I, too, undertook the fascinating game of playing with 
 lions." She got up, and stood looking down at Beatrice. 
 "There are lions and lions, my dear. Some are old, 
 mangy and toothless, but still able to roar. You can get 
 plenty of this sort. Each one will bring his own per 
 sonal hobby, and ride it to exhaustion, and no one but 
 the lion and his hobby need be the worse for the exhi 
 bition. But, Beatrice, these Socialist lions have both 
 teeth and claws, and if I know them, they would as lief 
 make a meal off the lion tamer as to partake of the meat 
 she offers." 
 
 "Oh, Aunt, you are as radical as my lion. I do be 
 lieve I shall have to arrange to keep you apart. The cap 
 italist tigress and the Socialist lion might forget all but 
 their teeth and claws. I shall certainly keep you apart," 
 she called back over her shoulder as she went upstairs. 
 
CHAPTER XL. 
 
 UPLIFT FORCES AT WORK. 
 
 The task Miss Holdon had set herself in the forma 
 tion of the Ethical Study Club was by no means an 
 easy one. As she labored to bring the "uplift" forces 
 together for the study of ways and means looking 
 toward the betterment of the wretched poor, a hundred 
 obstacles were encountered. Mr. Wilmerding, salaried 
 by the "United Charities," was willing, of course, to 
 join the club, but he insisted emphatically in joining 
 he hoped to be able to convince some of the more rea 
 sonable of the members that in the "United Charities" 
 could be found the sum total of all the uplift virtues. 
 He even went further, when he informed Miss Holdon 
 that a great many well-meaning people were not only 
 wasting energy and substance in the prosecution of their 
 so-called individual charities, but were actually breeding 
 paupers by reason of their indiscriminate giving. Beat 
 rice took his application with a heavy heart and went 
 to Miss Amos. 
 
 Miss Amos presided over the destinies of a social set 
 tlement, an oasis in a desert of poverty, filth and crime. 
 To her treasury came a goodly amount of conscience 
 money from the rich. 
 
 Miss Holdon s name had never appeared on her sub 
 scription lists; still, she listened patiently to Beatrice s 
 heart-emptying. "Yes, she would join and be pleased 
 to give the use of the Home Hall to the club when it 
 had a special program." "But, my dear," she added, 
 "there are so many of these organizations, and we never 
 see anything of their undertakings manifest in con 
 crete achievements." She surveyed the well-appointed 
 room in which they sat. "Don t you think you might 
 accomplish fully as much, my dear," she inquired bland 
 ly, "if you were to join with us, and concentrate your 
 efforts here?" 
 
 283 
 
284 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 Miss Holdon had Miss Amos application when she 
 left the settlement house, but her heart was heavier 
 for it. 
 
 Mrs. Sandstrom was next on the list. This lady 
 had set herself the task of solving the servant prob 
 lem, and she found the work fully as strenuous as she 
 could desire. With a beautifully appointed home and 
 an abundance of money, she had succeeded in gathering 
 a membership in her special uplift that invariably re 
 sponded to her call when they were to be entertained 
 at the Sandstrom mansion. About two weeks before 
 Beatrice s visit she had executed a feat which in its in 
 ception had promised to be a brilliant success, but which 
 in its denouement proved well that old adage, "The 
 proof of the pudding," etc., etc. The membership had 
 been invited and promised a treat, "The Servant Girl, 
 from the Girl s Standpoint, by the Girls." This an 
 nouncement, beautifully embossed on dainty souvenirs, 
 was found under each plate at luncheon. At the same 
 time, some five strange servant girls of all degrees of 
 intelligence, temper and general condition were being 
 regaled in the servants quarters. Mrs. Sandstrom had 
 hired them at a week s wages each to come to her kome 
 and give their side of the servant girl problem in short 
 talks before the club. 
 
 Mrs. Sandstrom s houseservants, we might mention, 
 were in open rebellion against that lady s method of up 
 lift, and when she had informed them at the "family 
 council," three days before, that she had hired five girls 
 to talk before the club at its next meeting, a second 
 council followed immediateely upon the adjournment of 
 the first. This council proceeded to hope the hired 
 speakers would be able to tell the uplifters a few things. 
 Consequently, when the hired talent appeared they were 
 greeted with a warmth that quite won their hearts. By 
 the time they were to be called to the parlors they knew 
 more, touching the shortcomings of a goodly number of 
 the ladies above, than is good for a servant to know. 
 
 "Can I make a spiel?" Mary Morrisey, one of the 
 hired orators, replied to a question from Mrs. Sand- 
 Strom s maid. "Can I? Say, haven t I been fighting 
 their impudent brats, dodgin their men with th goo-goo 
 eyes, an makin me demands for better wages in one 
 
UPLIFT FORCES AT WORK 285 
 
 place, better rooms in another, an better grub some- 
 wheres else, to say nothin of me havin to hold me own 
 with a tonguey, sharp-nosed, snoopin mistress. Can I 
 make a spiel?" 
 
 Mary was pretty, plump and saucy. Every one con 
 cluded that she could make a "spiel," and at the close^of 
 her speech they elected her unanimously to the position 
 of leading speaker. She accepted, laughing until the 
 tears rolled down her rosy cheeks, and proceeded to ar 
 range the program so that she might close the debate. 
 
 When the ladies and their servants (each had brought 
 at least one candidate for uplift) were seated, Mrs. Sand- 
 strom opened the exercises with a few minutes of gentle 
 patronizing gabble, then took up the slip of paper Mary 
 had handed her, and the fun began. At the close of 
 the session the following comment might have been 
 heard, as the ladies prepared to depart : 
 
 "Shocking!" 
 
 "Perfectly horrid!" 
 
 "Impudent things !" 
 
 "The idea of that red-faced thing insinuating that 
 our husbands and children needed the first dose of up 
 lift!" 
 
 "I really pitied Mrs. Sandstrom when that long-nosed 
 one said, After she d been in a certain place three days 
 she got so nervous she couldn t sleep, from thinking her 
 snooping mistress was peeking at her from the closet." 
 
 "And that chubby one who told about the man catch 
 ing her and pulling her behind the door and kissing her. 
 Did you see Nora Jackman color up? They say she 
 caught her maid and Jackman doing that." 
 
 "Well, this is my last uplift meeting," another de 
 clared. "My maid gets her walking papers just as soon 
 as I can find another. I know she told that big-mouthed, 
 warty thing, with the loud voice, about my children I 
 know it!" 
 
 "And the last one!" another exclaimed, throwing up 
 her hands. "The last one who summed up the evidence, 
 as you might say." 
 
 "Yes; wasn t she a bold hussy?" a little woman in 
 velvet interrupted. "Why, her language was something- 
 frightful, and the impudent way in which she pointed 
 out our defects and defended the servants." 
 
286 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "About four such meetings as that," a thoughtful- 
 looking woman observed, "and we wouldn t have any 
 more servants. I ll keep mine in their places after this; 
 the rest of you can uplift and solve all you want to." 
 
 "Mrs. Sandstrom asked me to offer her excuses ; she 
 has an attack of sick headache." Mrs. Sandstrom s smil 
 ing maid stood in the doorway. Her message was re 
 ceived in silence, but as soon as she disappeared the si 
 lence was broken to a purpose. 
 
 When Miss Holdon called at the Sandstrom home 
 she was met at the door by the mistress of the house. 
 "Yes, she would join the club; she still believed in her 
 mission and would be glad to present her plan to the 
 club. Mrs. Sandstrom recounted her side of the servant- 
 girl problem for Miss Holdon s benefit, and again the 
 club organizer felt depressed, as she took up her cross. 
 
 Miss Natalie Marble s name was next on the list. 
 Miss Natalie had been a progressivist ever since her 
 thirteenth year that is, she had informed the world 
 that she loved liberty and despised love. Liberty, she 
 asserted, depended solely upon the attainment of one 
 grand object; that secured, woman would immediately 
 assume her rightful position in the world of affairs. 
 Prostitution, child murder, unholy marriage, sweat shop 
 labor, irreligion, everything of evil in the life of woman 
 would be wiped away as soon as woman had the bal 
 lot, the sacred ballot! Miss Natalie was profuse in 
 her greeting; was not Miss Holdon an heir to millions? 
 Now, if she could only be won over to the great cause. 
 Certainly, she would join the club, and hoped to be put 
 on an early program for her lecture on "Woman, the 
 Eternal Woman," a lecture prepared in the shadow of 
 the sphinx. 
 
 "Of such, with a sprinkling of new thought, single 
 tax, science and slum grubbers, Beatrice organized her 
 club for the study of the world s ethics. 
 
 Into this assemblage of warring good folk, intent 
 upon cleaning a little patch of earth of its weeds and 
 smells, and righteously jealous of every other sort of 
 muckraker in sight, our friend John Bulman is to be 
 precipitated. How many of Aunt Nell s mangy, tooth 
 less, clawless, tame lions will he meet? 
 
CHAPTER XLL 
 
 THE ETHICAL STUDY CLUB. 
 
 It was a well-dressed, prosperous appearing assem 
 bly into which John Bulman was projected the night 
 he visited for the first time at the home of the Hon. 
 Horace Holdon. 
 
 The program was under way when John was an 
 nounced. Beatrice hurried to meet him and the look and 
 words of welcome she gave removed the last doubt he 
 held, and he entered the great dining room determined 
 to break a lance in the tourney. 
 
 A Mrs. Wilber, whose specialty was fallen women, 
 had the floor, and the ear of at least a fourth of her 
 audience. In a nicely modulated voice, she was telling 
 them that "the problem of moral regeneration is in the 
 hands of our virtuous womanhood we must shame our 
 erring sisters by the exalted attainments of our virtue. 
 It were better to incur the anger and suffer the abuse 
 some of our fallen sisters heap upon us than to let them 
 go unrebuked into lower depths of vice and crime. The 
 one great woman s work of the world to-day is cen 
 tered in this effort of a few heroic souls to regenerate 
 and finally save fallen women all else is of little worth 
 beside this task. 
 
 "Every woman who can spare the time should join 
 with us in the Rescue Work/ visiting those awful 
 haunts of iniquity, praying with the calloused inmates, 
 and by our very presence shame the men into abandon 
 ing such resorts." Mrs. Wilber sat down to the soft, 
 non-kid-splitting applause of the few. 
 
 Mrs. Sandstrom as chairman consulted her tablets 
 and called upon Miss Tibbs. Miss Tibbs, young, viva 
 cious, beautifully gowned, and pre-eminently conscious 
 that she was about to prove her worth as an uplifter, 
 blushingly made her bow to the audience. 
 
 "Fellow students," she began, "I am going to talk to 
 287 
 
288 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 you mainly upon a subject far removed from the one I 
 had in mind when I accepted an invitation to address 
 this meeting. I am led to do this because it seems to 
 me Mrs. Wilber has put entirely too much emphasis 
 upon the importance of her work. I cannot agree with 
 the statement that the greatest work before us is cen 
 tered in uplifting fallen women. My conviction comes 
 from experience. In working among the children of the 
 needy poor I have met many women of the class men 
 tioned, and I am satisfied that they, at least, were lost 
 beyond redemption. To illustrate, I will recount a sin 
 gle incident. One morning last summer I induced a 
 gentleman friend to accompany me on a visit to some 
 families in whose children I had taken great interest. 
 They lived in a tenement building and Charles" she 
 blushed and looked down "the gentleman I mentioned, 
 stood in the hall while I talked to a mother about the 
 proper care of her children, when one of those wretched 
 painted women in a kimono came through the hall I 
 had just stepped to the door when I saw her throw her 
 arms around the gentleman s neck, and heard her say, 
 "Charley, old sport, it s good to see you again. Looking 
 for rooms?" 
 
 The speaker blushed to the roots of her hair, as men 
 coughed and women smiled. But she was both inno 
 cent and brave, and went on with her story. "My es 
 cort actually looked scared, and as for me, I almost 
 fainted at the very boldness of the woman. As soon as 
 she saw me, she turned and ran down the hall laughing 
 horridly. When we came away, he explained to me tnat 
 all such women were alike and that the one we had met 
 just made a guess as to his name. He was actually as 
 nonplussed as myself. Now, do you wonder that I 
 have come to believe women of that class beyond the 
 power of either prayer or shame?" 
 
 She paused and let her big eyes travel slowly over 
 the audience. The audience sat silent, offering a trib 
 ute to her innocence. 
 
 "We, who meet together as students of ethics are 
 agreed, I believe, that ethics and righteousness are inter 
 changeable terms. Then, if ethical culture is to be de 
 sired, it seems to me we should extend our efforts where 
 the best basis upon which to build an ethical or right- 
 
THE ETHICAL STUDY CLUB 289 
 
 eous life is to be found. I take it, no one will dispute 
 the statement that the child trained to some useful occu 
 pation, and at the same time given a right understanding 
 of moral responsibilities, is the only basis from which to 
 work, and upon which to build for right relations in 
 mature life." With radiant face and hands clasped be 
 fore her, Miss Tibbs hesitated a moment and for a 
 second time took stock of her audience. "I wish, oh, 
 how I wish," she exclaimed, "that you, each and all, 
 could go with me into the homes of thousands upon 
 thousands of our children and learn of the great need 
 there is that they be rescued from the sordid struggle 
 for bread. Little tots, who should not yet know the 
 alphabet, have been forced to labor for bread. Babies, 
 who should be lisping that sweetest of all baby prayers, 
 Now I lay me down to sleep/ have become experts in 
 profanity, and adepts in petty crime. Boys and girls, 
 not ten years old, boast of depravity, look upon virtue 
 as a lie, and laugh at the story of the cross. An army 
 of children, bred without the pale of civilization, and 
 yet bread-winners in a Christian city." Lifting appeal 
 ing hands, with eyes suffused with tears, the girl cried 
 out. "I want to do something to banish this curse from 
 the lives of these little ones. Who will help me? Who 
 will help them? I know that the majority of the fallen 
 women and the majority of the unclean men, a majority 
 of the paupers, a majority of the criminals, with whom 
 society will have to deal fifteen years hence, are in the 
 making to-day, in the homes of our wretched, over 
 worked, ignorant, godless poor. This is the work that 
 is worth while. Will you help me. Will you teach 
 me?" 
 
 There may have been a kid split in the applause as 
 Miss Tibbs sat down. At least, the men were most lib 
 eral in their efforts to show appreciation. 
 
 Mr. Matthews, a divinity student, connected with 
 the social settlement, and an ardent admirer of Miss 
 Amos, was called, and for ten minutes argued that the 
 only thing necessary to the salvation of any commun 
 ity was the sum of one hundred thousand dollars, in 
 vested in brick, mortar, wood, steel, books, beds, pic 
 tures, kitchen utensils, wooden horses, swings, horizon 
 tal bars, tools, work benches, the love of Christ, a chas- 
 
2QO MILLS OF MAMilOX 
 
 tened spirit, a forgiving heart, and enough "willing 
 workers" to gather in the mothers and prospective 
 mothers, and start them right. Capture the children 
 and teach them self-reliance and the needful art of 
 being able to produce five dollars worth of wealth for 
 a dollar in wages. This accomplished with the decent 
 women and children, he opined that the job of regener 
 ating the fallen manhood and ditto womanhood of a 
 community would be an easy matter, and in conclusion 
 said he : "The social conscience of the community, once 
 fully awakened, all undesirable characters will be ex 
 pelled," and he sat down. 
 
 The next number on the program was decidedly 
 sensational. Miss Holdon had discovered a disciple of 
 individualism in the body of a newly arrived Count, and 
 had through a friend secured his attendance, also a 
 promise that he would talk on the "Ethics of Individual 
 ism." The Count was introduced to a vacuum produced 
 by the indrawing of breath, induced in all the ladies by 
 the announcement that a real Count was to appear be 
 fore them in the flesh. 
 
 Count Rousselin smiled indulgently upon his vas 
 sals, stammered, coughed, cleared his throat, blew his 
 nose vehemently, and plunged into a discussion of "The 
 Individual Versus Society." A few of the gems that 
 dropped from his pale lips are here appended: 
 
 "Zis ting we call government, is it not an abomina 
 tion? Ze lady, God bless her, has want for some fine 
 silk gown. Ze continent alone, it produce ze silk, fit; 
 ze modiste fit; ze gown to fit (rapturous applause), an* 
 ze government, ze, oh ze abominable government, it 
 charge tariffs, an ze lady, she must pay. Me, I believe 
 ze world ze whole world, it should be free to woman, 
 beautiful woman (more rapturous applause). For men, 
 I believe in liberty all government is slavery. To have 
 government, some one must rule ; if ze few rule, ze 
 many must obey. Zose who must obey are slaves ; is it 
 not so? To ze extent zat zey obey, are zey not slaves? 
 Count Rousselin/ zey say to me on ze continent, how 
 can you, who own thousands of acres of lands, an have 
 hundreds of servants an peasants who obey your light 
 est wish, how can you speak so like you do? It is not 
 what you Americans call an insincerity. An I answer, 
 
THE ETHICAL STUDY CLUB 2QI 
 
 I live to-day as other men force me to live, but, to 
 morrow will come. To-day, while my servant waits 
 upon me to-day, I teach my servant ze lesson of true 
 liberty; individual liberty.; an to-morrow my servant 
 will have grasp ze great truth an liberty will be born. 
 But you must be an anarchist, Count/ zey say to me 
 again; an I answer, I am I am, and only a very rich 
 man can afford to teach an to practice zat anarchy. I 
 laugh at zem, an I laugh at your large-around and little- 
 headed statesmen; an I clasp hands wis your big- 
 headed, lean an hungry business men; zey who 
 take an hold; an to-morrow take an hold 
 more of ze good zings, and laugh, an buy, 
 an take, an hold all zat zey want; an still to-morrow 
 zey want more an take an hold zat, too. I clasp hand 
 wis zese big-headed, lean, an hungry men; but I spit 
 upon your men in politics, your government, where in 
 service ze men grow big below ze what you call it? 
 Belt? Oh, yes, ze belt, an infinitesimal in ze head; an 
 zat is government. An always, it has been so. New 
 governments are built by big-headed, lean, an hungry, 
 fighting men. Old governments go always into ze hands 
 of fat, fatter, an fattest bodies, wis little, small, small- 
 es heads. Zen, ze revolution comes ; an finally, out of 
 all ze revolutions, individual liberty it is to be born. 
 Would you kill a man? my friends have asked of me, 
 an I say to zem, Would you put pork in ze barrel or 
 fish in ze tubs ?" An zey look foolish an I say : Tis 
 ze same to-day ; you kill meat an catch fish zat you may 
 live. To-morrow, ze world will demand liberty an 
 liberty, it is more zan life; so, too, will ze world kill 
 meat an put fish in tubs. Is it not so? But, you are 
 dangerous ! zey exclaim, making large zeir eyes at me, 
 an I answer: No, not so dangerous as a railway train 
 is to zose who use it ; not nearly so dangerous as ze 
 machine, ze ze what you call hands, tends. But, you 
 would destroy society ! and zey try to look pained an 
 displease, so I reassure zem. I do not seek to destroy 
 society ; I but point out zat all government is slavery ; 
 all law is so much of fetters, an so unnecessary to ze 
 individual capable of understanding liberty. Would I 
 destroy? No! Ze ignorant will destroy, an ze wise, 
 zey will watch ze destruction an smile while ze ignorant 
 
MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 build again. My servant may kill; my words may in 
 cite his anger; an his ignorance of ze great law of 
 change may cause him to anticipate ze law ; but I I am 
 above ze law, an Individulist for I need not to labor 
 I am free. Ze man, ze woman, all should be free. Zen 
 will ze gods come down to earth again ; zen, when laws 
 are forgot, an freedom is ours, zen will great men be 
 born, an ze world ethic, pure anarchy, ze essence of 
 individual liberty, it will compass ze globe. Zen will ze 
 folly of government be demonstrate an ze count, your 
 servant, be remember as is one John ze great Baptes." 
 The Count took his seat in a silence that was audi 
 ble, and the chairman, looking frightened, made frantic 
 signs of distress to Beatrice, who failed, however, to 
 understand the signals. 
 
CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 BULMAN TALKS ETHICS. 
 
 As recorded in the last chapter, Count Rousselin had 
 but finished his dissertation on Individual Liberty," 
 when the chairman hoisted signals of distress, which 
 Beatrice failed to comprehend. 
 
 The distress had its origin in the whispered question 
 of a member, who had read John Bulman s name on the 
 program and had advised that that number be omitted. 
 As Buknan was to follow the Count, and was seen mak 
 ing his way toward the platform, she had no choice, so 
 long as she could not get the ear of Miss Holdon, but to 
 announce the speaker. 
 
 "Mr. John Bulman will now address you on A 
 Socialist s View of Ethics/ " she announced in a low 
 voice; then turned to the member who had suggested 
 omitting the number and asked in a whisper, "Who is 
 he?" 
 
 "One of those anarchists, Count Rousselin told uf> 
 would some day blow us all up." 
 
 "Gracious, is that so?" the chairman gasped, then 
 turned to survey the man who, at that moment, bowed 
 to her and faced his audience. 
 
 "Friends, I have but a limited time in which to deal 
 with a great subject ; therefore, I hope that you will par 
 don me if I do not use a great number of words in 
 thanking the Ethical Study Club for the courtesy ex 
 tended a representative of the revolutionary movement 
 of the world. But, I do thank you for this opportunity." 
 The speaker paused a moment then plunged into his sub 
 ject. "All about us, we have Ethics talked of, and talked 
 of, yet how many of us would know an ethic if we met 
 it at noon-day? What are ethics? What is ethical? If 
 I can give you a short definition of ethics as I view 
 the things you call ethical, we shall be the better able 
 
 293 
 
294 , MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 to understand the basis upon which the conclusions I 
 shall reach are founded." 
 
 "One speaker has said, in effect, that ethics and 
 righteousness are identical terms, and the great majority 
 of us do look upon anything named ethical as being 
 righteous. Yet, the Mormons taught that polygamy was 
 ethical ; so too do many religions espoused by millions 
 and millions of people. Our Protestant and Catholic 
 churches teach that it is unethical for the men and 
 women of the common life to have more than one hus 
 band or wife, and any stepping aside from this ethical 
 relationship is branded as criminal and is punishable by 
 law. This looks good, is good; but, this ethic is not 
 all-conclusive. This being true of any ethic we may 
 examine, the Socialist makes contention that the ethics 
 of to-day are upon the same level as were the ethics of 
 the tribe, the first governmental unit in the development 
 of society above the dignity of the family. 
 
 "To revert to the sex ethic, which we have heard ex 
 pounded at some length to-night. Is it not true that 
 your churches grant to kings, princes, dukes, counts, and 
 capitalists, immunity from the sex law? Who among 
 you but knows that with but few exceptions the royal 
 families of the world are rotten morally, yet they are 
 all anointed of God? Dare you deny that the possession 
 of wealth exalts the holder above this ethical law? 
 Should you deny it, I would cite you so many cases 
 wherein your ethical reforrners, Christian purists, God- 
 serving officials and patriotic politicians, have taken the 
 bribe offered in dollars and cents by the licentious and 
 greedy pillars of society that you would hang your 
 heads for shame. The very fact that prostitution exists 
 in a Christian nation proves weakness on the part of 
 the Christian majority, when it comes to dealing with 
 an offense against the very root of all ethical relation 
 ships, the sanctity of the home. This abominable insti 
 tution pays tribute direct to the city treasury in one 
 place, through a system of fines in another, and by way 
 of bribes and blackmail in a third; and these are all 
 Christian cities. Prostitution could not exist for a sin 
 gle year in any land wherein one moral law was made 
 to apply to all people. A land where an ethic could not 
 be twisted to suit the needs of an immoral, profit-taking 
 
BULMAN TALKS ETHICS 295 
 
 class, and an equally immoral, semi-criminal class of 
 procurers, who for profit subsidize both church and state 
 and ply their hellish traffic among the daughters of the 
 working world. 
 
 "That is a strong statement. Your faces tell me it 
 is too strong for you, and I do not wonder. You, who 
 twiddle your thumbs and hatch resolutions for the up 
 lifting of the sodden mass of disease and filth-cursed 
 poor, are not used to anything stronger than an ethical 
 tea, and that must be diluted and well sweetened and 
 taken in sips. The meat of a revolutionary program, 
 looking to the establishment of an economic base upon 
 which a world-ethic may be builded why, the very idea 
 is repugnant ! Please pass the sugar, Mr. Bulman." 
 
 Significant glances passed between the uplifters, and 
 the speaker, apprehending them, said: "To invite a 
 Socialist to talk on ethics is to ask him to direct his 
 darts at the weakest spot in your nice, white-enameled 
 armor. What is an ethic? What are ethics? You say 
 an ethic is the last word of righteousness expressed in 
 government. And I tell you flatly, an ethic is neither 
 more nor less than an agreement between two or more 
 persons as to the manner in which they shall treat each 
 other in all matters covered by said agreement. This 
 agreement, either accepted voluntarily or by compulsion, 
 becomes a law, and all law is ethical to those who profit 
 through its enactment and is likewise unethical to all 
 who are despoiled by its enforcement. That this is the 
 case, I shall prove even to your satisfaction. 
 
 "To-night, we have listened to a free man, one above 
 the need of labor, who, with lands and hundreds of 
 workers at his beck and call, may talk anarchy, the 
 dreamy ideal of an individual liberty in operation out 
 side the pales of an organized state ; and his talk of 
 revolutions, the killing of men as one kills animals for 
 meat, or puts fish in tubs, will be listened to by the 
 parlor gatherings of the world, and next day his hear 
 ers will vie with each other to wine and dine him. But, 
 should any one of you hear a ragged devil on a street 
 corner talking the same stuff about Individual Liberty/ 
 you would hand him over to the police as a dangerous 
 citizen an undesirable citizen and defend your act as 
 ethical. 
 
296 MILLS OF MAMMON" 
 
 "I do not care to discuss individual liberty in 
 the sense anarchists use that term; I only insist that the 
 world of mankind passed from the age of individual lib 
 erty when man took upon himself the responsibilities 
 of family life, and later, organizing into tri bes, estab 
 lished laws and dubbed them ethical. From that time to 
 this, as society has become more centralized, more com 
 plex, the individual has been forced to surrender, one 
 after another, the liberties he enjoyed as a savage living 
 without government; but for every liberty surrendered, 
 society has heaped upon the individual and his children a 
 store of blessings, and the work of the social order in 
 the reclamation of the individual is not finished; it is 
 but begun. 
 
 "To talk of destroying government while man as yet 
 has scarcely mastered the A B C of the alphabet of 
 possible progress may be all well enough before a mob 
 of ignorant and oppressed workers, or at an ethical func 
 tion such as this, but among thinking men and women, 
 such an argument can have but little weight in face of 
 our knowledge of the needsj the duties, the powers of 
 the social state for good, for progress. 
 
 "When the forebears of our present-day individual 
 ists forsook their lonely lairs in the forests of the young- 
 old world and banded themselves together for mutual 
 protection, I strongly suspect that they did not at once 
 organize an Ethical Study Club. Yet, in their organi 
 zation ethics had birth, and have been handed down to 
 us in the same form. Through all the religious experi 
 ences the world has had, strange though it may seem, 
 the Ethic has never changed. Instituted in that far 
 distant time for the protection of property rights in 
 life, service, and material wealth, running to the tribe 
 first, then to the individual, we find that through all the 
 vicissitudes of time the Ethic has held its own. Let s 
 examine it as it first appeared. In the trrbe, it was 
 Ethical to protect the common property of the tribe ; 
 Ethical to protect the life of a tribesman; Ethical to 
 surrender one s life for the life of the tribe ; Ethical to 
 protect the private property of the tribesmen; Ethical 
 to protect the marriage relation; Ethical to protect 
 whatever form of sex-companionship had been found 
 best adapted to the needs of the tribe, be it monogamy, 
 
BULMAN TALKS ETHICS 2Q7 
 
 polyandry, or polygamy. All this was Ethical at the 
 birth of government, at the beginning of individual sur 
 render. And, I can not see how you could quarrel with 
 so splendid a system of ethical laws. Why protect the 
 common property of the tribe? Why inculcate the wis 
 dom of patriotism? Because they protect the common 
 life and make ample provision for virtuous family rela 
 tionship; they protect private property in the hands of 
 the individual. Now, what more could one demand, even 
 at this day, in the name of Ethics? 
 
 "But let us investigate this seemingly ethical, 
 righteous relationship. Within the tribe, this works for 
 the strengthening of the bond that unites the individual 
 members, for the Ethics of those days might not be 
 denied without loss of property, banishment, or even 
 death, as the penalty imposed upon the unethical tribes 
 man. It does look good. But, suppose we go with the 
 warriors of this tribe to-night on march round the base 
 of yonder mountain. Beyond the mountains, our chief 
 tain tells us there dwells a people rich in tanned skins, 
 bows and arrows, horses and cattle, and other of this 
 world s goods, all of which, besides the comely damsels 
 of the trib e, may be ours for the taking. Let us go 
 on march to-night. To-morrow morning, we shall fall 
 upon this people ; a people whose only offense against us 
 is that they have something we want. We shall butcher 
 the men of the tribe, confiscate all the property we can 
 move, and take the women of the tribe captive. Now 
 let us return to our side of the mountain loaded with 
 spoils, to meet the women and children, the old men 
 and the halt. What sort of reception will we receive? 
 Will our wives storm at us: Away with these strange 
 women ; return them to their families ; this conduct is 
 unethical ? 
 
 "Will the old men who helped shape the laws that 
 protect tribal and private property cry out: You have 
 disgraced us ! disgraced us ! Return at once to the peo 
 ple you have robbed all the loot, all the women! You 
 are unethical/ 
 
 "Will the tribe s ethical study club resolve regard 
 ing immorality, because we broke up a hundred homes 
 and consigned the wives and maidens of the tribe we 
 destroyed to an immoral life? Will any one of these 
 
298 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 things happen? How will you know that none of them 
 may happen. The uplifters, the old men, the women of 
 our tribe, all will acclaim us heroes ; receive us with open 
 arms and kindle fires to the Great Spirit in thanksgiving 
 for a victory and this, too, is ethical/ 
 
 "So, in the final analysis, it is just as ethical to 
 murder men your government wants killed as it is t<s 
 save the lives of those the government needs to protect 
 it against an equally ethical foe. 
 
 "It is ethical to protect the private property of the 
 individual members of your organization, be it a busi 
 ness association, state, or nation ; and equally as ethical 
 to confiscate the private property of any man who is not 
 of your tribe/ 
 
 "It is ethical to resolve on virtue at home, talk 
 sanctity of the family, and enact laws for the guidance 
 of your own household; and it is equally ethical to 
 destroy this relationship wherever you find opportunity 
 outside the little ethical circle you have drawn about 
 yourself. 
 
 "I contend that your ethics to-day are but the ethics 
 of the jungle, the law of tooth and claw, half hidden 
 under the thin, white enamel of a spineless Christianity. 
 The only ethic you know, the only one the world has 
 known since the days when Christ attempted the found 
 ing of a world-ethic, has been made to fit property 
 rights in labor, and the products of labor. As a So 
 cialist, I contend that the human family will not be lift 
 ed out of the degradation of ignorant sinning against 
 the fixed laws of life until society shall give to the 
 weakest individual among us the protection of its strong 
 arm shall institute a world democracy and take up the 
 task of deodorizing present day ethics/ 
 
 "Some of you seem dissatisfied" the speaker paus 
 ed "but, if I give you concrete examples of the opera 
 tion of ethics in business, in religion, in politics, and 
 in labor circles, and prove to you that present day ethics 
 are dictated and dominated by property interests, and 
 not by that altruism which alone is capable of lifting 
 man above the sordid grind of the material world, I 
 shall feel that my effort has not been in vain. 
 
 "The Socialist maintains that a class-struggle exists 
 in the social order; in a word, that there are two mighty 
 
BULMAN TALKS ETHICS 2QQ 
 
 factors in the modern state which make for revolution. 
 The capitalist class exploiting the material world of its 
 wealth, through the ownership of the machinery of pro 
 duction and the power that ownership gives over the 
 workers, and over against it the sweating millions. 
 
 "The exploiting, capitalist class has need for a large 
 retinue of go-betweens, politicians, teachers, bribe hand 
 lers, labor misleaders, and flunkies in general. 
 
 "Holding first place in all councils of state and 
 church, and by reason of its wealth always arbiter of 
 social activities, it is but natural that all who are ambi 
 tious for such distinction as society may give should both 
 ape and envy our dollar-damned leaders. 
 
 "This being the case, the great majority of our pro 
 fessional, business, and legitimatized-gambling families, 
 together with their retinue of little parasites, give tongue 
 to the cry raised by their masters, when the Socialist 
 condemns the class division in society and seeks to de 
 stroy it through the introduction of an industrial de 
 mocracy. 
 
 "On labor s side of this shifting class line, you will 
 observe a few men of wealth, an army of professors, 
 not a few writers, and a great body of students, all of 
 whom are willing to go down into the old melting-pot 
 of democracy along with the workers, in order that they 
 may be the better able to reach the exploited class with 
 the program offered by the social democracy. Along with 
 these recruits from -the class above, come the class- 
 conscious workers who accept the philosophy of Social 
 ism as their demand. Below them stand the great mass 
 of the exploited, unreasoning labor world. And out of 
 this great army of labor, every man and woman who lives 
 upon the other side of the class line must draw food, 
 clothing, shelter and all the luxuries they enjoy. The 
 product of the producers being limited, it follows that the 
 more the exploiting class draws from the wealth pro 
 duced from the land, in mine, mill, or factory, the less 
 the producer may have for his own needs. And your 
 ethical laws are so fixed that the idle class and its 
 hangers-on may revel in the plunder taken out of the 
 worker s life, while his family suffers the keen pangs of 
 a hundred hungers and it is ethical/ 
 
 "In order to better exploit the producers of wealth, 
 
30O MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 our capitalists institute boards of trade, through which 
 to rob the farmer and this is ethical/ To control their 
 employes in our industrial centers, they establish spy sys 
 tems, hire men to join unions, and, for a few dol 
 lars, become the abettors of perjury and this is ethical. 
 
 "When your captain of industry wants to destroy a 
 rival in business, or violate the laws of the land, he 
 lays his scheme for escaping the law before his legal 
 adviser, and that gentleman proceeds to fix it and that, 
 too, is ethical/ 
 
 "When one of our great business men is caught with 
 his hands deep in the pockets of the people, a man who 
 has sworn to uphold the law, an attorney, if you please, 
 appears for his client and all the machinery of evasion, 
 subterfuge, technicality, and chicanery is put in motion 
 to defeat the law and this is ethical/ 
 
 "Your lawyers have perverted every ethic law is 
 based upon, wherever and whenever wealth has been 
 cited before the bar; but they, and -the bench as well, 
 make up for this laxity when the poor, half-maddened 
 victim of your class-ethic is brought to bar. Away with 
 him! If he has stolen a ham to feed a starving child, 
 send him to the penitentiary. Let the majesty of the law 
 be vindicated! Had he only stolen a railroad or some 
 thousands of acres of land, he could have had a mis 
 trial, and at the next election he might go to congress 
 and this is ethical/ 
 
 "Your M. D/s have fought for hundreds of years 
 to compel suffering humanity to accept horse medicine, 
 divers poisons, a squirt-gun and a lancet, as the only 
 implements and remedies fit to minister to suffering flesh. 
 In every legislature, in every state, they have lied, lob 
 bied, and bribed, and bulldozed every other school of 
 practice. Every individual doctor standing for progress 
 has been sandbagged by the Doctors Slugging Commit 
 tee. Mark them down, homeopathic, eclectic, osteopathic, 
 biochemic; all these schools of progressive treatment 
 have suffered at the hands of these saw-bones and this 
 is ethical/ 
 
 "Your manufacturers organize a union, elect a slug 
 ging committee and go out after members, with the 
 plea that they must organize to keep labor from organ- 
 
BULMAN TALKS ETHICS 301 
 
 izing, and to break up those labor organizations already 
 established; and this, too, is ethical. 
 
 "Your business men organize a Merchants Associa 
 tion and send out a committee -to solicit members. They 
 send their families to church, while their Trice Making 
 Committee meets to fix prices for the next week. How 
 much any member may pay for produce, how much he 
 shall charge for his wares, is fixed, and woe to the 
 business man who will not join this most ethical* asso 
 ciation. 
 
 "But of all the organizations in this day of organized 
 ethics/ the lawyers Bar Association takes preeminence 
 as the most unethical, most venal, unprincipled, lawless 
 aggregation of them all. To hear a bunch of its high 
 lights each of them an attorney for from one to a dozen 
 piratical concerns when they are -met together -to dis 
 cuss "The Ethics of the Bar" must certainly cause the 
 good Christian s very bad devil to laugh -with glee ; yet, 
 I desire to assure you, this association is as ethical as 
 your ministerial association or the patent poison adver 
 tising religious press of this day. 
 
 "The last ethical organization on the side of capi 
 talism to which I desire to call attention to-night is 
 that of our worthy bankers. Able assistants are they to 
 our gambling fraternity, the right-hand men of the 
 speculators who filch their winnings largely from the 
 decaying middle class. 
 
 "The bankers spend your money liberally in the hope 
 of winning a fortune, and when they have lost your 
 savings, you are blandly admonished to keep your mouth 
 shut for the good of the business world. They advo 
 cate the arbitrary abrogation of your banking laws when 
 they get pinched ; but they are over-anxious that the com 
 mon herd shall obey the laws they have had passed for 
 the protection of their very profitable business. Should 
 one of them be convicted of violating the class laws 
 their association has secured, you will discover that the 
 violation was but technical; and should the banker be 
 found to have forged notes for hundreds of thousands 
 of dollars, learned gentlemen belonging to that eminently 
 ethical association entrenched in our courts will argue 
 the intent of the act, and finally this farce in the name 
 of ethics, will end either in the banker becoming a 
 
3O2 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 bookkeeper or clerk for a short term in our penitentiary, 
 or he goes scot free through the application of a tech 
 nicality and it is ethical/ But we Socialists warn all 
 poor mortals against forging commercial paper or 
 memorandum notes, for the propertyless man will go on 
 the rock pile for ten years if he tries to filch twenty-five 
 dollars from a bank, and it won t make an iota of differ 
 ence what his intent* may have foeen. 
 
 "Take all these organizations of the exploiting class 
 and let us see what next they will do in the name of 
 ethics/ Nothing more nor less than the formation of 
 an association of Post-nuts scab worshipers, made up of 
 delegates from the organizations I have mentioned. This 
 alliance for the promulgation of patriotism is never 
 known to flourish in a soil that has not first been plow 
 ed by organized labor. Its speakers are drawn from 
 pulpit, platform, and the marts of trade. All swear 
 that a man who Jo/ins a militant organization puts a 
 collar of servitude about his neck. Freedom of Con 
 tract is the very breath of social and business life, they 
 shout at us. Yet, each one of these men is held by the 
 ethics of the association to which he belongs in just 
 that sort of servitude. The free man, a scab, we are 
 told, is the noblest work of God, the best citizen, the 
 highest exponent of a perfect patriotism, and all the 
 goo-goos, me-toos, reformers, and delegates, cry amen, 
 amen/ 
 
 "Just across the line that divides the workaday world 
 from this most savory gathering of the elect, a labor 
 agitator and a Socialist gets busy. He tells the work 
 ers that organization will give them power to shorten 
 the work day and increase wages, that they may have 
 more of leisure and more of comfort in their homes if 
 they will organize for mutual protection, as have the 
 politicians, capitalists, -manufacturers, merchants, law 
 yers, doctors, and preachers. 
 
 "Then, going a step farther, the agitator insists that 
 the producers of the world s wealth may adequately pro 
 tect their product when they understand the power they 
 may wield through the ballot, and at once, and from 
 every quarter, our Parryized Scab Hunting Push sends 
 up the cry: Away with the agitator! Crucify him! 
 is a disturber! An un-Christian, un-American, un- 
 
 H P e 
 
BULMAN TALKS ETHICS 303 
 
 patriotic disturber, who is stirring up discontent! And 
 at once every little lickspittle in the camp of the ex 
 ploiters takes up the cry and it s all ethical. " 
 
 For many a day after, Bulman s rapid fire talk on 
 ethics was discussed with bated breath at parlor gather 
 ings throughout the city. 
 
CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 YANCEY PLAYS A PART. 
 
 "Mr. Yancey, I want to thank you for your timely 
 suggestion when we had this plan under consideration/ 
 
 This was the salutation with which the superintend 
 ent greeted the foreman when he had responded to a 
 call to the office some weeks after the foremen had re 
 ceived their instructions. 
 
 "You re welcome to anything I can do to keep busi 
 ness moving/ Yancey replied, seating himself. 
 
 "That s the spirit; that s the spirit. The superin 
 tendent was all enthusiasm. "And Mr. Yancey, do you 
 know I am more than surprised at the comprehensive 
 reports I have received from yourself, Moran and 
 Brush? Why, I had not contemplated the possibility 
 of making half the saving your reports suggest. I have 
 been going over them one at a time. I had both the 
 others in here, and they insist that the changes they 
 suggest may be made without more than a grumble or 
 two on the part of the men, and I have decided to order 
 these changes, provided you are of the same mind re 
 garding your department." 
 
 "Well, there s one phase of the situation that has 
 struck me since I sent in my report, Mr. Price." Yan 
 cey looked squarely at the official. "I had not taken 
 into consideration the union men in the shop. You 
 see," he added hastily, "a cut in wages, or a change to 
 the piece-system will give the union people the best 
 argument in the world, and they will doubtless use it. 
 Xow, I would suggest that we ought to have a man in 
 each department or at least in the more important ones, 
 who, while nominally a union man, may be depended 
 upon to report to us. I understand there are several 
 companies who are prepared to furnish men." 
 
 "The very thing!" Price nodded vigorously. "And 
 I see no reason why I should not tell you; of course, 
 
 304 
 
YANCEY PLAYS A PART 305 
 
 you understand it is to go no farther. Our company is 
 already a member of the Corporations Protective Asso 
 ciation, and we can get men here within a week if neces 
 sary." Price was in high feather. He felt that Yancey 
 was to be of great service to him. 
 
 "I m glad we are so well fixed to handle them. And 
 when you send for a man for my department, don t for 
 get that I want one who is not a union man, but wants 
 to join. He will be able to do good work." 
 
 "When do you think we ought to have him here? 
 They cost about one hundred per month besides the reg 
 ular wages." 
 
 "Well, there is no immediate hurry. You say you 
 can get them on a week s notice? I ll think it over and 
 let you know. Anyway, I don t believe I will need my 
 man for a couple of weeks." 
 
 When Yancey had returned to his work, Price called 
 Moses Webster in, dismissed the office stenographer, 
 and dictated the following letter: 
 
 Chicago, 19 
 Corporations Protective Association, Cleveland, Ohio: 
 
 Gentlemen We were very much pleased to learn of the 
 successful launching of your very worthy association, and 
 may be hammering at your doors with a cry for "Help" in 
 a short time. Please write us fully as to cost to us per 
 week for three men, good mechanics; one a machinist, the 
 other a moulder, the third to be named later; none of them 
 union men, but all willing to join. You notice we are anxious 
 to have our men organized. Let us hear from you fully, 
 also, tell us just how long it will take to get the men to 
 us after you receive wire from us for three. Yours cordially, 
 
 The Holdon Co., 
 P. Price, Mgr. 
 
 There had never been such a harvest of applications 
 in so short a time from one establishment for member 
 ship to trade unions as came out of the Holdon Co. s 
 plant within two weeks after Mr. Price had introduced 
 the piece-work system and began cutting wages. 
 
 Yancey disliked his part in the battle more and more 
 as the days went by, but as he thought of the infamous 
 spy system he brought his jaws together over a tongue 
 that often brought him near to trouble those days. 
 Smiling grimly, he walked over to the office one morn 
 ing and ordered three spies to be delivered within the 
 
306 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 week. Manager Price sent for Moses at once and in 
 structed him to send "for 3," as indicated in his letter 
 of previous date. 
 
 Moses Webster, at the close of his labors that day, 
 waited until Wilson came through the office building to 
 leave his reports, and hastened out after him. 
 
 "Say, Wilson, I want to have a talk with you if you 
 have time. How s things coming in the shop?" was his 
 query as they fell into step. 
 
 Wilson eyed him keenly. "Are you talking from an 
 office standpoint or on the basis of our long friend 
 ship?" he demanded. 
 
 "Well, Wilson, I don t know what to say to that;" 
 he hesitated. "You see, it s this way Holdon gave 
 me an increase and then put me in a confidential posi 
 tion, and it was something I have learned in that ca 
 pacity that has been causing me a world of uneasiness." 
 He looked straight into the eyes of the old foreman. 
 "George, I wish to God I was back on my sixteen dollar 
 job. You know I have been calling myself a Christian 
 how serious the thing is growing, you will be able to 
 guess when I tell you I must either quit my job or the 
 church." His voice broke and the older man looked his 
 astonishment. "I don t know what to do we need we 
 must have money to live on and this is a poor time to 
 go hunting a job." 
 
 "Moses," the foreman replied, "it s always a safe rule 
 to do right, or at least, what your conscience tells you 
 is right." 
 
 "If I d done that, I d been out of a job the day after I 
 got my raise." 
 
 "Well, what in the name of time " 
 
 Moses interrupted. "Will you promise never to tell 
 a soul what I am going to tell you?" 
 
 "I don t want any secrets " 
 
 "But, I want your advice," the young man protested. 
 "I ve known you since I first came here and I have al 
 ways heard men say, George Wilson is a man to tie 
 to/ " 
 
 "All right, Moses, fire away, but remember I may ask 
 you to give my promise back." Moses paid no attention 
 to this and plunged at once into his story. 
 
YANCEY PLAYS A PART 307 
 
 "The Holdon Company is doing a dirty, despicably- 
 dirty thing, Wilson. And I am the one through whose 
 hands all the correspondence passes. They are members 
 of a great company, backed by over one hundred big 
 employers of labor, who through this company hire men 
 to join the unions; then make daily reports on all the 
 men do or say in their meetings. They also keep track 
 of the men on work, and this information is purchased 
 at the price of perjury and is clearly a conspiracy against 
 the men." Wilson s look of amazement halted the nar 
 rative. 
 
 "You, you don t mean to tell me that there is such a 
 company ?" 
 
 "Yes, and the Holdon Company holds five hundred 
 dollars stock in it." 
 
 "And I thought that story was a Socialist lie," Wilson 
 admitted in a low voice. 
 
 "Lie, nothing ! I sent to them to-dav for three spies ; 
 they will be here within a week. There, it s out and thank 
 God; I feet better." 
 
 Wilson looked up blankly at the closing exclamation, 
 slowly rubbed his stubby, gray beard and stood silent. 
 
 "What would you advise me to do?" 
 
 "Moses, you have knocked a couple of props from 
 under me ; consequently I am not just steady in my upper 
 works, and and I need time. You don t mean to say 
 Mr. Holdon went into this thing?" 
 
 "Mr. Holdon dictated the letter accepting member- 
 ship- 
 
 "Well, I ll be . Say, Moses, how long has it been 
 going on?" 
 
 "Ever since they got afraid the men would organ 
 ize." 
 
 "And Mr. Holdon did this?" 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Holdon." 
 
 "Give me time, Moses, give me time; the world 
 wasn t made in a minute. I ain t going to give your 
 story away; but I want to suppose a case with another 
 man before I give you an answer. You see, the men in 
 the shops and the foremen have some rights." 
 
 "Yes, I saw that that s why I said I either had to 
 give up my job or my religion." 
 
 "Yes, yes, boy, I see; pretty tough pill to take, but 
 
308 MILLS Or GAMMON 
 
 your conscience won t die over night, not as long as it 
 has been getting tougher right along." 
 
 "Oh, I can stand it until the spies arrive; then I ve 
 got to do one thing or the other." 
 
 "Yes, either stand by the men and your conscience, 
 or by the perjurers and your job. Well, I ll give you my 
 opinion in time enough." 
 
 It so happened that Yancey was approached by Wil 
 son the day after and a supposititious case was presented 
 to him, by a serious-faced fellow foreman who wanted to 
 know did Yancey believe the stories told about spies be 
 ing hired to enter unions and report on the men in the 
 shops? "No," Yancey replied, "I couldn t believe in any 
 thing quite so damnable," and repeated that time-worn 
 assertion : "It s a confounded Socialist lie, told to stir up 
 strife between the men and their employers." 
 
 Wilson wore a sickly grin in memory of his belief of 
 the day before. 
 
 "But suppose," he insisted, "that it was the truth and 
 was being worked on us in this plant, what then?" 
 
 "Then why why " Yancey was sparring for 
 breath. Wilson was bringing it too close home for com 
 fort. Was it possible there was a "leaker" on their little 
 board. "Why, oh, hell, Wilson, what s the use; there 
 ain t no sense in such talk. Why, man, if it was true it 
 would drive every one of us who had an ounce of 
 self-respect into the unions to fight it that s all." 
 
 "That s me to a dot, Yancey, and I m here to tell you 
 I may call upon you one of these short days to repeat 
 the last part of that warm talk of yours." 
 
 Feigning surprise, Yancey faced around from the blue 
 print he had been examining. 
 
 "What s that?" he demanded. 
 
 "Wait and see," Wilson answered as he hurried 
 away. 
 
 From Yancey he went to Miller and went through the 
 same process with him. 
 
 "That s all right, Wilson; I don t say there are no 
 such things going on among the thousands and thousands 
 of men who employ labor, but I contend that no man 
 with a decent regard for the sanctity of an oath would 
 be a party to a scheme to induce men to betray others 
 
YANCEY PLAYS A PART 309 
 
 they had sworn to protect. Why, that s too far behind 
 the ethics of a heathen nation for a Christian to be able 
 to comprehend the utter depravity of the thing." 
 
 Wilson stood nodding, nodding in affirmation as Mil 
 ler laid down the moral law with swinging arms. When 
 the latter paused, he asked: 
 
 "Now, suppose our firm, the Holdon Company, should 
 enter into such a scheme and hire spies to join the 
 unions represented here suppose they did ? What would 
 you do?" 
 
 "I ll tell you what I d do," he looked about as though 
 there were a possibility that the spies might be within 
 earshot. "I d help hang the spies, then organize the 
 works from top to bottom and tend to Price. Say, little 
 Mickey had him named right, when he called him stinker/ 
 I d tend to Stinker Price later." He looked intently at 
 his visitor for a time, then said: "Wilson, you don t 
 mean to say there s anything like that going on here?" 
 Then added, hastily : "It sounds too much like rant." 
 
 Wilson was laughing when he left Miller and went 
 over to visit Moran on the casting* floor. He would be 
 even with Price yet. All he needed was to get Moses to 
 agree to tell the several foremen over the more impor 
 tant departments the story as he had told it the day be 
 fore, and there would be things doing in that plant. He 
 walked into Moran s little cubby office in one corner of 
 the shop and after a hasty "good morning," Moran look 
 ed out the window and turned back quickly. 
 
 "Wilson, unless you ve got something that can t wait, 
 I wish you would go; Price is coming and it won t be 
 healthy for us foremen, office boys, I should have said, 
 to be seen together." Wilson started for the door with 
 out a word. 
 
 "I ll come over in an hour," Moran called after him. 
 
 When Price entered, Moran was busy over his re 
 ports. 
 
 "What did you want ?" the visitor asked. 
 
 "Why, I ve got a man here I want to get rid of," 
 Moran replied, without looking up. 
 
 "Well, why don t you write out your complaint and 
 send it to the office ? I can t be giving " 
 
 "My complaint," Moran interrupted, still busy on his 
 
3IO MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 work, "wouldn t look good even in the office. The man s 
 a splendid worker." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Well, the facts are, he s a union man and I am afraid 
 he s having a bad effect on the others. He s constantly 
 telling them, if they were organized they could knock 
 out the piece work in a week." 
 
 Price reached out his hand. 
 
 "Moran, I am glad you brought this to my attention. 
 Just write on your complaint blank, discharge recom 
 mended for the betterment of shop discipline/ and it will 
 go straight to the secretary. I don t want to waste words 
 with that sort of cattle." 
 
 He left the room and left behind him a man whose 
 massive features were wreathed in smiles. 
 
 Williams, the man who was to be "discharged for the 
 betterment of shop discipline," was a thorough union 
 man, but he had a large family to support and, scenting 
 trouble ahead, had quietly looked about for another job. 
 As soon as he had found one, he opened up on the man 
 agement and the non-unionists, before work began at 
 noon and after the night whistle. Moran had gone to 
 him the day before and suggested that he might hurt his 
 cause by such tactics. Williams had replied that he 
 wanted to be "canned." 
 
 Fifteen minutes after Price left the shop, Moran 
 walked out of the office with a bit of paper in his hand. 
 Williams guessed what was coming and stopped work 
 to talk with a non-union man on the job next to him 
 as Moran approached. With the eyes of at least fifty 
 men upon him, men who had been telling each other he 
 would be "canned," he took the slip of paper from Mor- 
 an s hand. High words followed and finally, Moran or 
 dered him from the floor. 
 
 Carson, bending over his flask, pounding sand for 
 dear life, asked himself: "Was it possible that Moran 
 was a traitor after all?" One of the best men on the 
 floor, who had held out against the unionists, came along 
 shortly after and pretending to want the loan of a tool, 
 said to Carson: 
 
 "You can have my application at noon. I know, and 
 every man in the shop knows, we can t go on in this 
 
YANCEY PLAYS A PART 311 
 
 v-. y ay. And, if men are to be fired because they are not 
 fraid to say what they think, why, the sooner we are all 
 ide the fence, the better." 
 
 That night several men in Moran s department whoiii 
 ,he men hoped to get in had made application to the 
 union, and all but two of them thought Moran in full 
 sympathy with the management. 
 
CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 CARSON, PHYSICAL INSTRUCTOR. 
 
 In a quiet little hall on a side street, near the great 
 Holdon plant, seven men had met to discuss the situa 
 tion at the works. 
 
 "It s coming along just a little bit too fast to suit 
 me," John Bulman was saying, when Carson, the big 
 moulder, interrupted : 
 
 "It can t come too fast for me, and if it ever comes 
 to a time when I can take a crack at Stinker* Price I 
 won t begrudge a year s work." 
 
 "There s too much of that feeling in the works, too 
 much ; that s one thing we must curb." Brush was talk 
 ing. Yancey laughed as he said: 
 
 "Talk about wild men. This is the third week under 
 our piece-work system. The first day the men growled 
 like the very devil, and our union boys laughed at the 
 others, and then lit in and growled harder than any of 
 them. At noon, the first day, every man on piece-work 
 was figuring on his earnings from the time he d swal 
 lowed his grub until the whistle blew. At night they 
 were a glum-looking outfit. When a machine went 
 wrong they fairly cussed the air blue. On day work 
 they would have whistled and took their own time fixing 
 it. Well, it s been getting worse all the time, and to 
 day the piece-work men held a meeting at noon and put 
 it up to me to make a demand to-morrow for the old or 
 der of things." 
 
 "My men didn t hold a meeting," Brush reported, 
 "because there s but few of them on piece-work, but I 
 gave over half of them another two per cent cut in 
 wages; the notice was posted day before yesterday, and 
 things are looking black." 
 
 "My men," said Moran, "are all up in arms, from 
 the sand boy up, and whenever Price so much as sticks 
 
 312 
 
CARSON, PHYSICAL INSTRUCTOR 313 
 
 his nose inside there s enough under-breath cursing to 
 sink a ship." 
 
 "Who can tell how any of the other foremen are 
 coming?" Downey, organizer for the moulders, inquired. 
 
 "Well, Miller s been over to my place twice to-day, 
 an says he hopes to God the unions will get busy and 
 get every man in the plant." 
 
 "Did you sound him, Brother Brush, as to his per 
 sonal feelings in the matter?" Yancey inquired. 
 
 "No; I wanted to let him sweat a little longer. You 
 see, Price wasn t nearly as well satisfied with either Mil 
 ler s or Wilson s reports" the men laughed "as he was 
 with ours, so he goes over to their departments and 
 makes things fairly sizzle. When it gets hot enough, 
 I ll see Miller again." 
 
 "How about Wilson?" 
 
 "Wilson s advising his new men to join the union, 
 and told them if they d make a clean job of it he d go 
 into it and help them till hell froze over." 
 
 "Bully for Wilson." 
 
 "That s the talk." 
 
 "And the next thing is to get the spies in and find 
 out who s who," Bulman began, when Moran asked : 
 
 "How are we to handle the departments in which 
 the foremen are not with us ?" 
 
 "Why, we won t have spies sent into those depart 
 ments." 
 
 "But if he does send them?" 
 
 "So much the worse for the spy, that s all," from 
 Carson. 
 
 "Well, we want to agree upon just what is to be done. 
 I believe in an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, if 
 we have to fight for it. Price will have injunctions 
 served on every union, and there will be broken heads 
 after the strike begins. If we have to fight for decent 
 conditions against spy systems, injunctions, scabs and 
 policemen, I, for one, am not going to be too nice about 
 taking a whack at a head before the show opens, if it 
 will make us one less to handle." 
 
 "Carson," said Brush, "we will make you a present 
 of the job of physical instructor, without vote, without 
 salary, without authority other than your two good arms, 
 
314 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 and may God have pity upon the poor, shrunken-souled 
 spy who gets within reach of them." 
 
 All joined in the laugh that followed the mock crea 
 tion of this office, but Carson s savage snarl sobered 
 them. 
 
 "Of course it is understood that nothing is to be 
 done by any individual member of this committee with- 
 out the sanction of the body," Bulman interposed ; "also 
 that the names of all applicants for membership in the 
 unions represented here be withheld until this board is 
 ready to act. It is also understood that the other shop 
 foremen who do not come over by the time we are 
 ready to make our demands are to be notified by the 
 men in their departments that they shall refuse to work 
 under them when the trouble is settled." 
 
 With this understanding, the conference broke up. 
 At about the same time Price left the downtown apart 
 ments of the magnate and went to his rooms to dream 
 of the conquest of a golden future in which he was to 
 enjoy the fruits of another s labor. 
 
CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 WHAT HAPPENED TO THE SPIES. 
 
 "They ve come," the foreman whispered to John Bui- 
 man one morning as the two met at the street corner. 
 "Price had me in last night, when we knocked off, and 
 he s as tickled as a kid with his first pants." 
 
 It was a grim smile that played about John s mouth, 
 as he made answer: "And may God pity them." 
 
 And "they" who had arrived, lost no time in making 
 it known in the departments to which they had been as 
 signed that they were strongly in favor of unions. Many 
 were the stories they narrated of strikes and lockouts 
 in which, While they were not strikers, they had assisted 
 the good cause by breaking a head or two when the 
 Chance offered. Off work, they were total strangers, un 
 til they were safely away from the men. 
 
 For four days, Price received the reports of his spies 
 with joy mingled with a tempering doubt. The fifth 
 day s report from both the moulder and machinist, were 
 scarcely to his liking. 
 
 The machinist reported: Men mostly mum on question of 
 union men in here; one man, John Bulman, is most danger 
 ous, I should judge. He s got a lot of horse sense and says 
 flat-footed that every man here ought to be in the union. I 
 gave him my application to-day. He s a funny cuss, looked at 
 me kind of queer and says, "Do you realize the gravity of 
 the step you are taking?" He will bear watching. When 
 word went round the shop that I d signed up, some of the men 
 I couldn t get a word with before thawed out, and I have com 
 menced to pump them. (Signed) W. Y. Farley. 
 
 The moulder reported: Moulding floor is just about a 
 "closed shop," or my ten years experience in getting next 
 goes for nothing. I m to be taken into the union some time 
 next week. My advice is for you to begin to work up a force 
 to take hold here, for if I know anything about trouble signs, 
 I see them in this plant. I put off telling you this until 
 I was sure. (Signed) P. Johnson. 
 
 315 
 
3l6 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "They are either trying to earn their wages by giv 
 ing me something to keep me awake, or I ve been fooled 
 in the men/ was Price s comment as he finished the 
 day s reports and sent for Moses, who took the papers, 
 and after reading them locked them in the vault. 
 
 Out in the big plant about fifty men, machinists, 
 moulders and blacksmiths, all men who had served al 
 most if not quite as many years in their unions as they 
 had at their trades, were taken into the leaders confi 
 dence, and were assigned a part in the coming initiation 
 of W. Y. Farley, P. Johnson and A. T. Jones. 
 
 A week passed, a week that brought but little com 
 fort to the superintendent, as he read the reports of his 
 spies, each day growing more lurid, as the men selected 
 for this special duty plied the company s men with ma 
 terial intended to unsettle the mind of "Stinker" Price. 
 
 The week in passing afforded the men ample oppor 
 tunity to perfect their plans for the initiation of the spies. 
 The hall secured, the several men who were to assume 
 the role of officials were drilled in their parts. All were 
 instructed to wear masks, and the stage being set, each 
 of the three men was instructed to appear for initia 
 tion. The machinist at seven-thirty, the moulder at eight, 
 and the blacksmith at eight-thirty. It was impressed 
 upon the would-be members that they must be punctual, 
 or they might have to wait two weeks longer before be 
 ing taken into the organizations. 
 
 "Where do you go to ride the goat?" Johnson asked 
 Jones. 
 
 "Over on Randolph somewhere, I ve got the number 
 here." 
 
 "Why, that s damned funny; that s where I go!" ex 
 claimed Johnson. 
 
 "Oh, that s all right, there may be a dozen unions in 
 the one building," Jones assured him. 
 
 So the two arranged to go together. At seven- 
 thirty, both men were standing on the pavement in front 
 of the number to which they had been directed. 
 
 "There went three of our men," Jones observed as a 
 half-dozen workers entered the building. 
 
 "And there goes Farley, I ll " 
 
 "Let him go," Johnson interrupted, catching his com 
 panion by the arm. "I don t have to show up until 
 
WHAT HAPPENED TO THE SPIES 317 
 
 eight, and I guess we better not be seen together; it 
 might not pay in the end. I m going to a saloon; see 
 you to-morrow night and talk goat." 
 
 Farley was met at the landing by a young fellow 
 whom he had never seen before. 
 
 "Is one of you gents Mr. Farley?" the latter ques 
 tioned, as Farley came up with two others. 
 
 "I m Farley." 
 
 "You re the man, then. Well, the machinists sent me 
 down to look for you, they are waiting." 
 
 "All right, go ahead," Farley answered as his guide 
 started up a second flight of stairs. 
 
 The guide pushed him through a doorway, the door 
 closed behind him and he heard a key turned in the 
 lock. Three men entered through another doorway, each 
 wearing a mask. 
 
 "Hello, you put on some extra touches out here. 
 I " the astonished candidate began when he was in 
 terrupted by one of the masked men. 
 
 "What extra touches, brother?" 
 
 "Why, them blinkers," he replied. 
 
 "Brother, your application states that you have never 
 been a member of our order, what can you know of it s 
 initiation ?" 
 
 "Nothing, I I only thought labor unions didn t use 
 such things." 
 
 "You will know more after your initiation," the 
 mask replied. 
 
 Another mask stepped forward, and solemnly said: 
 "Brother, you have given one of our brothers an appli- 
 action for membership. Did you do this of your own 
 free will?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," the candidate answered. 
 
 "As you cannot know the nature of the obligation 
 you are to take to-night, I am instructed to inform you 
 that it is both solemn and binding, yet it will in no way 
 conflict with your duties as a citizen, neither* will it in 
 terfere with your religious belief. With this assurance 
 on my part and on the part of the brothers here, are you 
 willing to take the obligation ?" 
 
 "I am." 
 
 "Then may God help you. Brothers prepare the can 
 didate for initiation." 
 
318 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "That s a murderous looking gun you carry," one of 
 the men observed, as he took a thirty-eight caliber auto 
 matic revolver from Farley s pocket. 
 
 "Here, give me that gun !" The candidate made 
 a grab for it, when his arm was caught by one of the 
 men. 
 
 "Not so fast, brother, not so fast; that gun might 
 scare the goat. We ll keep it until we get through and 
 come out for your clothes." 
 
 "All right, pard, keep it; but, on the level, I don t 
 like this undressing business," he protested, as they 
 stripped him to shirt and pants, and led him into the hall. 
 
 Farley may live to join several other unions, but he 
 will never forget the sight that met his gaze as he was led 
 into the hall. The stillness of a living death brooded 
 over it. Four stations in the hall were occupied by robed 
 figures, masked and bearded, while the masked members 
 banked upon either side, sat rigid in their chairs. 
 
 "They do things in style out here, all right," the 
 candidate whispered as he was being led to the first 
 station. 
 
 "Worthy Past President," the voice of the guide 
 droned on the silence as he swung about to face the sta 
 tion, while in the far end of the hall four raps of the 
 gavel sounded, and every man was upon his feet in an 
 instant. 
 
 "I bring before you a man from the great body of un 
 organized labor, who is desirous of joining our order. 
 W r ill you question him?" 
 
 The worthy Past President cleared his throat with an 
 audible effort and began: "Fellow worker, this good 
 brother who acts as your guide assures me that you de 
 sire to become a member of our order, is this true ?" 
 
 "It is." 
 
 "Do you know that you will be required to take an 
 obligation binding upon you before God and man, an 
 obligation that none but a renegade, without sense of 
 honor would betray ? Do you realize the solemnity of an 
 oath and that you must take this obligation before our 
 secrets may be revealed to you?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "Guide, you will escort the candidate around the 
 hall in order that each member may closely scrutinize 
 
WHAT HAPPENED TO THE SPIES 31Q 
 
 him before he is allowed to take the obligation." The 
 speaker lifted his voice and added: "If there be aught 
 against him, if one of the brothers present knows of 
 any good reason why W. Y. Farley should not be ad 
 mitted, let him make his Objection known, before the 
 oath is administered." A single rap from the gavel, and 
 the banked rows of masks peered from their chairs as 
 the two, guide and candidate, took up their march about 
 the hall. 
 
 "Most Worthy President," again they halted and 
 again the gavel rapped the members to their feet, "I 
 bring before you a fellow worker, who has answered all 
 questions satisfactorily, who has also passed under close 
 scrutiny of the brothers here present. This brother de 
 sires membership in our order, and I present him for 
 initiation." 
 
 "He has answered all questions ?" 
 
 "He has." 
 
 "He has been duly elected?" 
 
 The clerk answered, "He has." 
 
 "His initiation fees are paid?" 
 
 "They are," the treasurer replied. 
 
 "Then, my brother, in the presence of God and the 
 brothers here assembled, I ask you; are you willing to 
 take an oath of allegiance to this order, an oath that 
 will bind you before all men to keep inviolate the secret 
 business of this organization?" 
 
 "I am." The words came in a low tone of voice. 
 
 "Speak louder," the guide admonished. 
 
 "I am," the candidate s affirmation was heard to the 
 ends of the hall. 
 
 "You will repeat after me, using your name where I 
 use mine, the following obligation: "I, W. V. Smith," 
 (the candidate repeated, "I, W. Y. Farley,") "do solemn 
 ly swear in the presence of God and the witnesses here 
 assembled; that I will never reveal any of the secret 
 business, signs or passwords, oral or written, that may 
 be given me at this time, or at any time in the future, 
 to any one not a member of this order, and as much en 
 titled to them as I am. I further swear, as God is 
 my witness, that I will never use my membership in 
 this organization for any end not sanctioned by its mem 
 bership. That I will obey the officers of the organization 
 
32O MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 and be orderly in meetings, and by my daily walk in life 
 endeavor to so live that I shall not bring discredit upon 
 the order or upon my fellow members. If I should 
 prove unworthy or false to my oath of allegiance, may 
 my deceived fellow workers mete out to me such punish 
 ment as they deem adequate to fit my treachery." 
 
 "To all of this you most solemnly pledge yourself 
 before God and men." 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "May God help you," the president s voice was al 
 most a sob. 
 
 "Has Farley taken the oath ?" came a voice from the 
 door as a large man pushed his way in. 
 
 "He has," the president answered. 
 
 "Well, he s a traitor and a spy ?" the big man shouted 
 as he made rapidly for the front of the hall. 
 
 "Brother this is an 
 
 "Let me out of this!" Farley shrieked and struck 
 viciously at the guide who clung to him, "Let me out, 
 you damned " he thundered, and pulling away from 
 the guide, made a dash for the door. Shaking in every 
 fiber of his body, he was recaptured and half led, half 
 dragged before the presiding officer. 
 
 "This is a most serious charge, brother, a charge of 
 treason coming on the heels of your most solemn oath," 
 the president s voice was tense. 
 
 "And I can prove it," the big man declared, puffing 
 after his exertions. 
 
 "Produce your proof," came from the chair. 
 
 "That s easy ; this guy who calls himself Farley isn t 
 Farley at all. He is one of those Corporations Protec 
 tive something s spies, and he works in old Holdon s 
 plant, and we ve got the goods on him." 
 
 "Brother, is this true?" the president asked. 
 
 "True or not, I m game. You run me into a regu 
 lar plant, and I ve got to take my medicine " 
 
 He got no further ; the president shouted, in order to 
 be heard "The committee on traitors will take this 
 worse than scat) in charge." 
 
 Farley broke away from the guide and struck at the 
 first man who attempted to lay hands upon him, but five 
 minutes later he was carried out of the hall unconscious. 
 
 "Bring in the next candidate." 
 
WHAT HAPPENED TO THE SPIES 321 
 
 And again at the proper time, the big man at the 
 door made his charge of treason against an oath-bound 
 member, Who thought he had joined the moulders union, 
 and again the presiding officer called "Bring in the next 
 candidate." 
 
 In the end three men had gone through the intitia- 
 tion and of the three, Farley alone showed fight. 
 
 Johnson and Jones both confessed, begged, promised 
 and pleaded, yet they went the same way. From the al 
 ley, three closed carriages, each carrying three pas 
 sengers, issued at various times that night and whirled 
 away into the maw of the town. 
 
 "A labor leader overcome with eloquence," one man 
 said to another at the alley s moufh as two men carried 
 a third to the waiting carriage and bundled him in. 
 
 "Or rotgut," the other laughed. 
 
 Price sat at his desk the next morning, busy with a 
 refractory thought when Moses Webster entered. "Mr. 
 Farley s in a cab says he can t come in, and wants to 
 see you." 
 
 "What? Farley? Isn t he working?" 
 
 "Don t look like it," Moses admitted aloud, and to 
 himself he said : "I wonder what they did to him ?" 
 
 "Farley!" Price went white when he saw the bat 
 tered spy propped up in a corner of the cab. "In the 
 name of God, man " 
 
 "I don t want to hear no more name of God for a 
 year," Farley interrupted with a snarl. "I got my fill 
 of that last night." 
 
 "But but man, what s the matter with you?" 
 
 "I ve been eaten up and spit out, that s what s the 
 matter, and see here" he loosened his suspenders on one 
 side and pulling his clothing apart, disclosed a great livid 
 welt upon his hip. 
 
 Price wide-eyed and disconcerted, stood silent. 
 
 "Yes, damn them, and there s another just like it on 
 my back. I ve got to get into a hospital and get fixed 
 up; that s why I am here I want money." 
 
 "You want money ? Why, man, you are paid by the 
 Protective." 
 
 "That s all right, but I need it now, and bad. I tell 
 you I m all in. Those devils almost killed me." 
 
322 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "Mr. Price, you are wanted on the phone. Some 
 hospital says a man there claims to have been slugged by 
 union men and says you will " 
 
 Price went hastily to the phone. When he returned, 
 he simply asked the waiting man how much he needed. 
 
 "Oh, a hundred will see me started all right and 
 say, Price " when he had pocketed the money "my 
 advice to you is to give the men something and don t 
 try to run any more of our kind in on them. They are 
 the wisest bunch I ever went up against. I ll write." 
 
 Price went all the way to the street corner and stood 
 staring after the cab. "Now what could he have meant?" 
 he asked himself as he went slowly back to his office. 
 Mechanically, he picked up a morning paper. A two- 
 column scare-head caught his eye and he read : 
 
 "MORE UNION SLUGGERS IN MURDEROUS ATTACK. 
 
 Three Inoffensive Citizens in as Many Districts of the City 
 Mercilessly Beaten While on their Way Home from 
 Downtown District. 
 
 At midnight W. Y. Farley, a machinist, was found at the 
 back door of a saloon on Sixty-third street in a frightful con 
 dition. As near as could be gathered from his disconnected 
 story, he had had some trouble with a union or with cer 
 tain members of it some time ago, and had all but forgotten 
 it, when he was set upon by a dozen men somewhere on Hal- 
 sted, north of Sixty-third street, while on his way home. He 
 was terribly beaten and evidently left for dead. 
 
 The second case is more atrocious, if that be possible. A 
 moulder, who refuses to give his name for fear of the union s 
 slugging committee, was found about one o clock this morn 
 ing by Policeman Dooley on Clark, near Lincoln Park. He 
 had been assaulted on Wells street while going quietly home. 
 Besides numerous bruises, this man was terribly burned, with 
 acids, it is thought. At the county hospital he gave the name 
 of one of our leading employers, but asked that no mention 
 be made of the case, as he feared for his life. 
 
 The third case, furnishing substantial proof that certain 
 labor organizations of this city are banded together in a con 
 spiracy to intimidate or murder individual workers who re 
 fuse to be cajoled or driven into the unions, comes from the 
 west side. On Madison street near Western avenue a belated 
 pedestrian stumbled over a man lying at the entrance to a 
 dark alley. An alarm was given, and when assistance arrived 
 the victim of a union s vengeance was carried to a drug store 
 and revived. His story is materially the same as of the two 
 quoted above. 
 
 A hard-working mechanic, trying to earn an honest living 
 
WHAT HAPPENED TO THE SPIES 323 
 
 as a blacksmith, is approached by emissaries of the black 
 smiths union, who, it seems, are preparing to compel their 
 employer to grant certain demands or have his busine:? 
 wrecked. 
 
 This man, who desires to have his name withheld for a 
 time, refused to listen to the union agitators, and was point 
 edly told that yesterday was his last day of grace. Laugh 
 ingly, he informed them that he still lived in a free country 
 and proposed to remain free. As a result he lies bruised and 
 burned in the Sisters Hospital, and his family, in Cleveland, 
 Ohio, may take what little comfort they can out of the state 
 ment that he will live." 
 
 "So, that s how it panned out," Price said aloud, 
 after reading the newspaper report of the "slugging." 
 "They must have been a bunch of dubs, but who the 
 devil put the unions next?" 
 
 An office boy stood at Price s elbow. 
 
 "Well, what now?" 
 
 "Please sir, some of the men wants to see you." 
 
 "Well, I m here ; show them in." 
 
 And in they came, five of them, led by a big burly 
 fellow from one of the forges who pulled at his coat 
 collar and cleared his throat at every step. The dele 
 gation filed into the office and arranged themselves in a 
 row, each looking at his neighbor for encouragement 
 and finding in the faces of his fellows an equal embar 
 rassment, driving all thought of a fixed purpose from 
 their minds. Price, always insolent and overbearing with 
 the men, eyed this delegation with open contempt, and 
 they felt it instinctively rather than by process of reason 
 ing, as their eyes turned from time to time, during the 
 leaden moments of silence to his sneering face. 
 
 "Well, men, what s the matter? Have you struck?" 
 
 "Hem, hem, you tell him Smith," the big burly man 
 from the forge turned appealing eyes upon a little thin- 
 faced fellow at the end of the line. 
 
 "I wasn t elected no chairman of this here commit 
 tee," Smith protested. 
 
 "Well, men, whichever one of you is to make the 
 spiel, let s have it." Price grinned sardonically at the 
 foot-shuffling group. "I d ask you to sit down, but I m 
 in a hurry," he explained. 
 
 "Th men did lect me chairman an an I had some 
 resolutions as has bin passed." The man from the 
 forge fumbled in his pockets, and Price, with out- 
 
324 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 stretched hand and snapping fingers, sat square-jawed 
 and grim. 
 
 "You put them resolutions in your hip pocket, Jim. 
 I seen you," one of the committee ventured. 
 
 "So I did, so I did." Jim heaved a sigh of relief, 
 as he pulled out the document in question, and placed it 
 in Price s outstretched palm. 
 
 Price tapped the papers on the desk. "Well, men, 
 say it and get out what else?" 
 
 "Why, just this here ; we gives you one week from to 
 day to make up your mind in, an we ll be back here 
 for an answer, that s all." 
 
 "What do you want? Don t you know that if Hoi- 
 don was here, the last one of you would have been fired 
 out into the street long ago? I ve put up with you and 
 your insolence just as long as I m going to." He got 
 up and kicked the chairs back. "Now get out; for a 
 cent I d fire the whole bunch." 
 
 "Do it, do it, and we ll take the last man in the works 
 out with us," the big, burly man from the forge an 
 nounced with a meaning shake of his huge labor grimed 
 fist, having found both voice and control of his other 
 faculties at last, "You try it on, Mister!" he taunted 
 from the doorway. "We ll be here one week from to 
 day for our answer to them demands and if you ain t 
 lookin for trouble, take my advice and consider them 
 serious." 
 
 The committee could be seen from the office window, 
 breaking up into individual units and so making itself a 
 part of the great labor army in the Holdon plant. 
 
 "Well, I ll be literally" the superintendent com 
 mented, as he stood watching the men as they went to 
 their several shops. "One week, one week," and turning 
 to the desk, he stood looking at the thumb^marked "de 
 mands" of the men. 
 
 M oses Webster entered the office and laid a telegram 
 on Price s desk. "Cabled from Bombay," was his terse 
 comment as he turned to leave the room. Price picked 
 up the cipher message, and gazed at it speculatively be 
 fore taking up Moses translation just beside it. 
 
 "Closed contract for biggest job in India. Specifica 
 tions follow. Rush your work. Holdon." 
 
 Price read it and sat dawn limply. At any other 
 
WHAT HAPPENED TO THE SPIES 325 
 
 time he would have rejoiced that the job they had fig- 
 ired on for two years had been safely landed, but to 
 day the news of this success carried another meaning. 
 He had determined to bluff it out with the men when 
 they came for their answer the next week. Now in the 
 light of Holdon s cable to rush work, he couldn t think 
 of inviting a strike. An hour after Price had been made 
 acquainted with the contents of Holdon s message, the 
 council of the unions was also possessed of the news and 
 from the leaders word went to the men that their de 
 mands would be granted. 
 
 "There s only one thing to do," Yancey told Price the 
 day before the committee was to call for its answer. 
 
 "And that " 
 
 "And that is to grant the demands of the men." 
 Price scowled and Yancey hurried on: "They ain t 
 asking much only to be put back on the old basis, with 
 an increase of about 3 per cent in the mechanical de 
 partments." 
 
 "But what right have they to make such demands?" 
 
 "The right organization gives them, I guess." 
 
 "But there isn t a handful of them that s organ " 
 
 "And there you are mistaken," Yancey hastened to 
 correct him. "Practically all my men are organized, and 
 they are my best mechanics at that." 
 
 "Do you," Price turned an anxious face to the fore 
 man, "do you really believe they would strike if these 
 demands were not granted?" 
 
 "As sure as fate." Yancey answered, and enlarged 
 upon the theme : "You see, Mr. Price, the men have 
 been restless since you changed the work and prices, and 
 that spy business has not helped matters any. Besides, 
 they have gotten it into their heads that if Holdon was 
 here they would never have been put on piece-work in 
 short, that he does not know of the changes you have 
 made, and would not stand for them if he did, and they 
 have not been slow to grasp the fact that if this is the 
 case you won t dare to face a strike." 
 
 Price sat, biting his lips, while Yancey put the case 
 thus bluntly. For a time there was silence after the 
 foreman ceased speaking, then Price looked up to say: 
 
 "I ll think the matter over, Yancey, I suppose the 
 
326 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 committee will be here on time/ He had tried hard to 
 smile, but had not quite succeeded when the foreman 
 left the office. 
 
 It proved an easy victory for the men. Thursday 
 was the day set for the committee to call upon the super r 
 intendent, but he forestalled them by having notices 
 posted on the bulletin-board, and upon all the shop doors, 
 to the effect that commencing the next month the old 
 system of work would prevail, and an increase of two 
 and one-half per cent in wages would be paid from that 
 date. 
 
 There was rejoicing among the men from end to end 
 of the great plant. It is needless to say this rejoicing did 
 not reach into Price s office. That gentleman was 
 cudgeling his wits in a vain endeavor to evolve a plan 
 which would lead him to the discovery of the "leak" 
 through which the unions had gotten next to his hired 
 spies. And, although he failed, he still hoped to get in 
 touch with some worker in the plant who would be able 
 to give him the right "steer." 
 
PART II. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A DETECTIVE STORY. 
 
 "Will he some, Mickey?" The speaker looked up 
 from her work upon a tiny garment. 
 
 "Yes, missus, he ll come fast enough dis time." 
 
 "What did you write him?" she demanded, even in 
 her distress, jealous that any one should have more pow 
 er over the man than she possessed. 
 
 "A business letter, strictly," Mickey answered with 
 out looking up from a copy of the "Old Sleuth" library. 
 
 "Mickey," she walked over to him and put her hands 
 upon his head and strove to make him look at her. "You 
 haven t given me a good, square look since you wheedled 
 me into moving here, and you are always looking at me 
 when you think I don t see you. Mickey, you know my 
 heart is breaking; can you sit by and see me suffer day 
 after day and refuse to tell me if you know anything 
 about about about things?" Her eyes were bright, 
 a dry bright, that told of tears spent in the nights that 
 had gone before. 
 
 Mickey had set his jaws and with neck stiffened re 
 sisted her effort to make him look at her. He knew if 
 his eyes ever looked into hers while that plea was on her 
 lips he would surrender and the whole story would come 
 out, and this did not suit his purpose. Finally he said : 
 
 "Missus, he s a-comin this week sure, an if he 
 leaves youse again, an youse kin say to me, Mickey, I 
 don t love him no more an* T won t have nothin t do 
 with him, I ll tell youse everything I knows an it s a 
 heap. But, you must promise you won t say nothin t 
 him about it." 
 
 "I will not promise to deceive my husband," she pro 
 tested. 
 
 "Yer husband?" It was a question. 
 327 
 
328 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 In a twinkling Estella was on her knees by his 
 side. 
 
 "Oh, Mickey! Mickey! I thought you didn t 
 know." 
 
 "Missus, don t, don t, youse ll kill me." He got to 
 his feet. "I knows it all, lady, an I hope God strikes 
 me dead if I don t wish I d croaked before I ever seen 
 Jo , either of youse." He rushed from the room 
 and left Estella upon her knees by his chair. 
 
 Mickey was sure Joel would visit Cairo that week. 
 He had made excuse that his business would keep him in 
 the north for at least another month in his last letter to 
 Estella. Still, Mickey was sure he would write and tell 
 her he would arrive that week. When they left Michi 
 gan City Mickey had three hundred and fifteen dollars, 
 the proceeds of the furniture sale, and the two hundred 
 dollars left at the house by Joel. 
 
 Mr. James Y. Johnson had wired Estella on a Sat 
 urday to give possession of the furniture the next Mon 
 day and go to No. , Hendee street, Cairo, 111., and 
 
 that he would arrive there the following Tuesday. 
 
 Arrived at Cairo, mistress and servant found that 
 Joel had wired for a cottage and telegraphed two hun 
 dred dollars to the real estate man to be delivered to 
 Mrs. James Y. Johnson. Mickey, with an eye single to 
 the future, suggested that they take up the two hundred 
 dollars at the real estate office and buy as little furniture 
 as they could possibly get along with, and save the money 
 for other expenses. Estella agreed. In fact, she would 
 have agreed to anything proposed to her by Mickey, so 
 completely mystified was she over the order that had 
 come to her to move. 
 
 Tuesday came and went, and still no letter for her. 
 
 Two months passed and Mickey had received two 
 letters under his new name, while she had received but 
 one, enclosing one hundred dollars for expenses. She 
 turned the money over to Mickey with the remark that 
 he might as well keep it, she didn t go downtown any 
 way. 
 
 When nine weeks had passed, Estella received a let 
 ter, and ran to her room to read it. Mickey, standing 
 at the dining room door, heard a low moan, and running 
 in, found her stretched upon the floor insensible. He 
 
A DETECTIVE STORY 329 
 
 gathered her up in his arms and kissed her and cried 
 over her as he put her on the bed. Then he picked up 
 the letter and hastened to a neighbor s to get help. 
 
 While the women worked over Estella, he read Joel s 
 letter. The sum and substance of it was that business 
 would keep him away another month. Couldn t she find 
 another man to amuse herself with, or was she too far 
 gone for that? 
 
 One of the women came out of Estella s room, look 
 ed curiously at Mickey a moment, then said: 
 
 "Your wife ought to have a woman with her, sir." 
 
 "My wife! Why, she ain t my wife. Her man s a 
 swell guy; I m a errand boy." 
 
 The woman grinned and went back. But, as a re 
 sult of their neighborly interest, Estella had a servant 
 girl, black as coal and as good humored as a pet coon, 
 duly installed the next day. 
 
 That night as Mickey lay thinking of the misery 
 he had seen in Estella s eyes as he sat down to his sup 
 per, he decided to bring Joel to Cairo if the whole heav 
 ens fell as soon as he got there. 
 
 "I ve bin a lyin , low-lived, white-livered whelp ever 
 since I took dis job, an one lie more or less ain t a-goin 
 to sink th ship. I m goin t write him first thing in th 
 mornin ." And this is the letter : 
 
 Mr. Manning, care Eagle Club, Chicago: 
 
 Affectionly yours; 
 
 This here letter gits away frum me when I haint got bud 
 $11.00 and no sence, an* I got all th . money yor womming 
 had too. 
 
 Captyn, it was this way. i got too tips on a race horse 
 down to Memfies what was to run thaer. i had it doped out 
 to me bi a fellow wot sayed he knowed, an he lyed. Then i 
 backs anothyre pony a 20 to 1 shoot to git da coin back, an 
 dammitt, that one gits blancketyd to. Say we got to have 
 some money cause we can t live much on this aire. And you 
 wanter come rite along ith the money, cause i got somthynze 
 i must tell you i don t dares to rite it. John Williams, 
 Yourse treuley, 
 
 Mickey Dougherty. 
 
 P. s. i aint foolisch. Yo must come this hear weak er i 
 sells da furnisher an we comes to Chi. 
 
 youse trueley. Mickey Dougherty 
 
 nix John Williams 
 
 At the Eagle Joel sat with a couple of congenial com- 
 
330 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 panions recounting the features of a little splurge they 
 had engaged in the night before at Madam Vaughn s, 
 when one of the attaches signalled Joel, who shook his 
 head; the man persisting, Joel got up and went over to 
 a vacant table in the smoking parlor. There the man 
 joined him, and taking Mickey s letter from his pocket, 
 said: 
 
 "Mr. Holdon, this came under special delivery, as 
 you see, so you will excuse me for interrupting you." 
 
 A silver dollar was Joel s answer, but he scowled 
 frightfully as he opened the envelope. 
 
 When he had mastered the contents of the letter we 
 have read, he sat staring ahead. 
 
 "The little beggar," he muttered. "So he took a 
 whirl with the ponies and is broke. He says Estella 
 gave him all her money. She probably lied to the little 
 runt, but after all, his threat that he will sell the stuff 
 they have and come to Chicago will have to be looked 
 after. I was a fool to take him on in the first place. He 
 knows too much about my people." He sat silent, biting 
 his nails and frowning. "Yes, we might as well have it 
 over with. I ll run down and give Mickey a little money, 
 and the woman enough to see her through her trouble. 
 Then, I m done with the whole business." 
 
 He rejoined his companions and seemed as free of 
 care, did this man with money enough to buy twentieth 
 century indulgences from society, as men felt who were 
 once able to buy like indulgences from a ruling church. 
 
 Had Mickey gambled on the races and lost? Not he; 
 instead he had established quite a reputation as a curb 
 stone broker, who would take a watch worth ten dollars, 
 or a revolver worth five dollars for a week or two, as 
 security for a small sum at big interest. No, he had not 
 lost money, and as he waited the coming of Joel, his 
 greatest uneasiness resulted from fear that Estella would 
 lose confidence in him, and he did not feel that he could 
 trust her with his secret. 
 
 "When he s gone, I ll jest tell her why I sent fer him. 
 We was all out of money, cause I lost it, but I won t 
 lose no more. An ef she wants t lecture me, I guess I 
 cud stand it. Fac s is, I d give anything t j see her get 
 up enough ginger t cuss some one out proper." 
 
 When Joel reached Cairo the second day after he re- 
 
A DETECTIVE STORY 33! 
 
 ceived Mickey s letter, he went to a hotel and from there 
 sent a negro boy with a verbal message to the cripple. 
 
 "Wat s dat, boy? Take dat mush outin yer chops 
 an talk Mericain , cain t yer?" 
 
 "Day s a gent, name of Manning to de hotel wants 
 powerful bad t see you-all, an him sais you-all was i" 
 come erlong wid me," the boy repeated. 
 
 "The gent says all of us is ter come, does he?" 
 Mickey demanded, wondering why he wanted Estella to 
 go to the hotel. 
 
 "No, him says jus you-all is to come, an him says 
 not fer me t tell you-all fore no women folkses." 
 
 "That s more like it, me -buck. Jist wait till I gits 
 ready, will youse? Go round th corner an wait. I ll 
 be there in a jiffy." 
 
 Mickey ran to his room and put a short thirty-eight 
 calibre revolver in his pocket, then hid his money and 
 started. When they entered the hotel lobby Manning 
 was not in sight, and they were going out to look about 
 when the clerk called them. 
 
 "Looking for Mr. Manning?" 
 
 "Yep." The clerk looked hard at the twisted little 
 figure, called "Front" and motioned the visitors to fol 
 low the bell boy. 
 
 "Well, whose there?" Joel demanded, when the bell 
 boy knocked. 
 
 "It s me, Mr. John Williams," Mickey sang out. 
 
 Joel opened the door, but only scowled, when Mickey 
 saluted him with a "Howdy, Captain." 
 
 Pulling a quarter from his pocket, Joel handed it to 
 the negro boy, caught Mickey by the shoulder and pushed 
 him into the room. 
 
 When those on the outside had started down the hall, 
 he locked the door and put the key into his pocket. 
 Mickey had always been credited with having a grain of 
 "sand," for each atom of his shrunken body, but as he 
 looked into Joel s eyes when he turned from the door he 
 felt that he had not made a mistake when he put the re 
 volver in his pocket. 
 
 "Well," Joel stood silent glaring at his visitor. 
 
 "Water s deep in that well, ain t it? Youse seem to 
 take a long time to reach bottom." 
 
 "I don t want any lip from you, my man, and " 
 
332 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "Don t need to have none: jist talk biz; I hain t in 
 th well business nohow." 
 
 "Say, you young devil, I ve a notion to wring your 
 neck." Joel took a step toward the cripple. 
 
 "An again, youse has a notion not t do it. I hain t 
 wantin no trouble er nothin , but it s jist as I told youse 
 in me letter. We got to have some of th mazuma t buy 
 stuff t live on. An I thought youse wanted me to keep 
 youse posted. Calculate I am goin t write bout th two 
 men as come here from Chi a-lookin up Steller? Not 
 me ! I wants to see youse, so we kin lay our plans." 
 
 At mention of men who were on his trail, Joel turned 
 a sickish white. 
 
 "You say two men have been here looking for her ?" 
 he asked, and sat down. 
 
 "Yep, they went to Michigan City first, an got a 
 description of youse an th woman, from some of them 
 old pussies as got t be imitate with her, and " 
 
 "It s the detectives her people hired in Chicago to 
 trace her." Joel paced up and down the room. "When 
 did you last see them?" He halted in front of his 
 caller. 
 
 "Why, it was th day afore I writ to youse. I was 
 downtown to buy some things an one of them twigs me. 
 I didn t tumble fer a while an when I did, it was too 
 late. He jist kept to my heels an I knowed ef I went 
 t th house he d shadow the crib till he got his lamps on 
 yer woman. Then th game wud be off. So what does 
 I do but take them groceries an go most t th other end 
 of town, an th first big house I comes t I goes in a 
 gate at th side, an when he couldn t see me no more, I 
 heaves th stuff over a fence an takes out th back way." 
 
 "And then?" Joel was smiling. 
 
 "Why, Captain, I makes me git-away an keeps 
 mighty close till after I gits that letter off. Then I 
 cusses myself fer two solid hours fer bein th biggest 
 fool in th state." 
 
 "I don t see " 
 
 "Youse don t see? W y it s plain as a rummie s 
 nose. W y, s pose youse ud a-come down here an them 
 fly cops ud a spotted youse huh !" 
 
 "Damn it, I hadn t thought of that," the employer 
 frowned. 
 
A DETECTIVE STORY 333 
 
 "No, ner me, but I puts in th most of the day a-think- 
 in what a mess I d got youse inter, an I says : Th* 
 captain allus hes bin square as a box with youse, Mickey, 
 an this ain t no time to be runnin him up against no 
 plain clothes men, an by crimeny, I twigged the racket 
 that ud send em out of town on th double quick." 
 
 "Did you do it, Mickey, did you ?" Joel fairly beamed 
 so great was his relief. 
 
 "Yep, an done it jist as easy. Yisterday mornin I 
 comes downtown an* waits around watchin fer dem 
 geezers. Purty soon, I sees one ov em in front of th 
 Planters hotel. I watches till he walks t th corner, 
 then I comes up behin him an asks him jist like I d 
 never seed him afore: Say, mister, could youse give a 
 cripple somethin t do? Lord, he bit quick. Sure 
 thing/ says he. come t th hotel/ he says. Well, we 
 goes down there an he brings me up t his room, an 
 telephones t th clerk to send out somewheres fer his 
 side kick. Say, Captain, he was most as well pleased 
 s ef he d drawed a prize, but he didn t make no move t 
 do biz till his partner come. Then they both lit in, an 
 I done some tall lyin . They asks me what I was doin 
 yisterday. W y, I was deliverin groceries, special order. 
 How long I bin in th town? Most six weeks. Did X 
 come with a man describin youse, Captain Yep." 
 
 "You didn t " 
 
 "Wait, Captain. I says yep/ Was der a lady? 
 Yep. Does she look like so an so? Yep/ again. An 
 I could see dem geezers a-winkin t one another an a- 
 swellin up t think what a easy mark they d struck. 
 Well, me man/ says one of eni, where are they now? 
 An right there I does th baby act fit t split. Sa y, I kin 
 go on th vaudivil stage. W y, them fly cops jist sets 
 there an says goo-goo words like they s talkin t a kid. 
 Tell us where they are an* we ll see at youse gits 
 enough money t go back t Chicago on/ one of em tells 
 me; an I tells de pinchers youse takes de gal an skips 
 t Atlantic, Georgia, a-leavin me in de lurch most two 
 weeks ago." 
 
 "You didn t ! Glory, but you re the cheese, Mickey." 
 Joel reached out a hand that Mickey pretended not to 
 see. 
 
334 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "Sure, I did, an after a-doin all dis, you hits de town 
 an acks like youse wants t eat me up." 
 
 "I m sorry, sorry, old man." Again he reached out 
 a hand; this time Mickey saw it, shook it, and shook it 
 quick. 
 
 "And they hit the grit ?" 
 
 "Sure Mike ! I watched em till they got their tickets, 
 seen em on th train, then I looks at th ten plunks dey 
 puts up fer me con talk an goes home." 
 
 "Say, Mickey, you re a jewel, and we won t quarrel 
 if you did lose money on the ponies." Joel was in the 
 best of humor. "I had intended to give you a blowing 
 up and send word to Stell to go to the devil, but if her 
 people are on my trail I ve got to stay in the game until 
 they give up. Lord, if the detectives were to get next 
 to me it would cost thousands of dollars and no end of 
 trouble to get clear. You did the right thing, Mickey, 
 the only thing, and I ll be darned if I can understand 
 how you thought it all out." 
 
 The magnate s son paced the length of the room, 
 while Mickey sat with his eyes on the floor. 
 
 "You ll have to move again, Mickey, and this time I 
 guess you better go to Texas." 
 
 "Texas?" Mickey s voice came from his shoes. To 
 him Texas was just on the other side of the world. 
 
 "Yes, there s Dallas. It s a fine town, and only about 
 a day s ride from here. Yes, you ll have to move. I ll 
 go up and see Estella, and tell her the climate will suit 
 her better there. Come on !" 
 
 Mickey communed with himself as they went in si 
 lence to the house. 
 
 "So we goes t Texas th skunk! Well, it s me as 
 goes wherever she does. Ain t she most educated me 
 w y, I kin almost talk United States now, an I kin I 
 wonder if kin is right I kin write somethin fierce. An* 
 when it comes to swear words, she s jest about broke 
 me of that. W y, she don t need only t look sorry, an 
 I m dam no, I m doggoned ef I don t want t go jump 
 in th river. I ll go t Texas, but not less th missus says 
 
 so." 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 JOEL LEAVES CAIRO. 
 
 What passed between Joel and the woman he had 
 so grossly betrayed, beyond the scene enacted when Es- 
 tella saw them as they entered at the gate and with a 
 cry of glad surprise threw herself into Joel s arms, to 
 be fairly picked up and carried into her room, Mickey 
 never knew. He saw no more of Estella that nig j ht, but 
 he had a business talk with Joel, who instructed him to 
 send Estella to Dallas within a day or two, and to tell 
 the servant-girl she was going to Chicago. Then he 
 was to dispose of the furniture and follow. He gave 
 Mickey the name of a Dallas hotel, and after handing 
 him two hundred dollars, promised to send him as much 
 more the next month. 
 
 In the morning Mickey was on the front porch, when 
 he heard Estella and Joel discussing the move to Dal 
 las. Joel said something about a hospital, and Estella 
 seemed to be pleading with him. Finally, Joel gave ut 
 terance to an oath, and again asked a question. Mickey 
 strained every faculty to catch her reply, but he had lit 
 tle need to exert himself, the reply came clear and true. 
 
 "My God, my God ! What have I done? You, of all 
 men, to ask me to do this?" Her voice was raised, al 
 most a shriek. "I will not! I will not kill my baby!" 
 There came a sound as of a dead weight falling, hur 
 ried steps from the dining room, and Mickey standing 
 as one stunned heard Joel cursing in the hall as he 
 halted to get his suit-case, coat and hat. Mickey ran in 
 just as Joel was struggling into his coat. 
 
 "Get that wench and see to Stell, she s fainted. I m 
 going. Do all I ve told you and I ll -make it right with 
 you." 
 
 He rushed out of the house, but Mickey was on his 
 knees beside the woman he loved better than his own 
 life before Joel had reached the door. 
 
 335 
 
336 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "Oh, my poor Stella, my poor Stella. I ll kill him; 
 I will ; so help me God ! I ll kill him ef he ever touches 
 youse agin/ 5 
 
 For the second time in his life, he kissed her lips and 
 hair, then left her to find the girl, who had gone to visit 
 with a neighbor s servant a few minutes before. 
 
 "I m goin ter give her a chance t hear what I ve 
 got t say jist as soon as s he comes outen it sufficient," 
 Mickey said to himself when assured that Estella was 
 able to go to her room. And he further promised himself 
 a good kicking for having brought Joel to the house. 
 
 "Gee, but he wus easy ; an two hundred more plunks 
 t de good, an* we ain t a-goin t move, not immegeately. 
 I got to collect on my capital w at I ve loaned out. An* 
 them niggers an poor whites is dead easy when they has 
 a sport t deal wid," was his comment as he -went down 
 town to make sure that Joel had gone. 
 
 For two days, Estella kept her room and when she 
 did appear, the third day after Joel s departure, Mickey s 
 eyes took on a hard, cold glaze as he looked at her wan 
 face, beautiful even in it s sadness. She sat in a big 
 rocker by the window and motioned him to bring a chair 
 and sit by her. There was a world of weariness in her 
 voice as she asked : 
 
 "When do we move again, Mickey?" 
 
 "Not till youse is ready," he answered. 
 - "But didn t J , didn t he tell you something about 
 going right away?" 
 
 "I didn t understan it that way, less youse wants 
 t go." 
 
 "Oh, I do Mickey. We may have stayed too long 
 now ; they may come back." 
 
 "Who s comin back, lady?" Mickey was frightened. 
 He thought that Estella was "seeing things." 
 
 "The detectives, the men my people hired to look 
 for me." 
 
 Mickey s eyes widened. His relief was so great, he 
 almost laughed aloud. 
 
 "Who told yer they was fly cops here lookin fer 
 youse?" he demanded. 
 
 "He did he told me, when I refused to move again 
 without him, he told me I could either do that or let 
 my people find me." 
 
JOEL LEAVES CAIRO 337 
 
 "It s a dirty, low-lived lie!" Mickey was hammering 
 the window-sill with as much gusto as though it were 
 the head of Joel Holdon. 
 
 "A lie, Mickey? Oh, don t say he deliberately lied 
 to me," the woman pleaded. 
 
 "It wouldn t be th first one, would it?" he demanded. 
 "An fer w y should youse be frightened, missus; don t 
 youse want yer folks t find youse?" The question was 
 asked in all honesty. 
 
 "No! No! No! Anything tut that, anything but 
 that!" 
 
 "Well, I ll be dam scuse me missus, but youse lays 
 it over enybody. Say, why don t youse want t see yer 
 people?" 
 
 "Oh, Mickey, I have no wedding ring, no ring !" At 
 the last word, she seemed to grow faint and struggled 
 for breath. Mickey bent over her. 
 
 "Missus, missus; I ll git youse a weddin ring; a 
 nice, big, fat one like they has in Chi in th big stores. 
 Jist youse let me git th size of your which one is it 
 th guys what loves -wimmen puts it on ?" In spite of her 
 sorrow, Estella could not help but smile at the earnest 
 face, and eloquent eyes of her esquire, as he stood by 
 her side fitting a bit of paper to her finger. 
 
 "I ll git one ef it costs a hundred." he declared. "Ef 
 that s all as keeps youse from a wantin to* see yer folks, 
 it s a-goin t be fixed." 
 
 For a long time, Estella sat with her hand upon his 
 arm, debating whether or not to open the eyes of this 
 vassal of hers to that part of the moral code in which his 
 education had been neglected. Finally, she turned to 
 him with: 
 
 "Mickey, you must not pay too much for my wedding 
 ring, we must move some day soon and we can t go 
 without money." 
 
 "Don t youse git t frettin bout money, missus; I 
 got five hundred dollars." 
 
 "Five hundred dollars!" Estella exclaimed. "Five 
 hundred? Why he told me you had gambled all your 
 money away, and all I gave you!" 
 
 "It was a white-livered lie lady, a low-down lie. I ll 
 tell youse jist how it was. Youse see " 
 
338 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "No, Mickey, I won t hear a word. Go ami buy my 
 wedding ring, then we will talk about moving." 
 
 "But, missus, I want t tell youse how it was." 
 
 "And I cannot listen to you, Mickey," she pro 
 tested. 
 
 As he stood in the hall getting into his coat, he heard 
 her say : "I wonder why James told me that I wonder 
 why?" 
 
 "Well, Pll be literally clawed inter shoestrings, ef T 
 knows what good she s a-goin ter git outin a weddin 
 ring. Queer idea she s got, but, by crimeny, I d git her 
 one ef it took th last cent in the house." So he com 
 muned with himself on the way down town ; and get the 
 ring he did. When he slipped it on her finger, he re 
 membered how the heroes in his stories always kissed the 
 hand of the lady when they couldn t do any better, so 
 Mickey planted a good, honest smack fair on the back 
 of Estella s hand, then bolted. 
 
 For a week, Estella said nothing about moving, and 
 Mickey had come to the conclusion that his business as 
 a curb-broker was not to be disturbed, when he was in 
 vited to a conference. 
 
 "Now, Mickey," she began. "I guess we better be 
 getting ready to move. In fact, we should have started 
 a week ago." 
 
 "Youse mean it?" His surprise was only too evi 
 dent. "Youse ain t goin to go where he says, to Texas ?" 
 
 "Yes, to Texas." 
 
 "But, missus, he won t never go away down there t 
 see youse an he s told me " 
 
 A hand was placed over his lips. "Mickey, Mickey, 
 not another word. I m going to give him another 
 chance." 
 
 Mickey twisted himself free, looked up into her face, 
 radiant with a new-born hope. 
 
 "Another chanst," he repeated lamely. 
 
 "Yes, another chance. Mickey, I m going to Dallas 
 and when my baby comes, I I " Her hand went up to 
 her throat. "I, O God! I must believe in him or go 
 mad. Help me, Mickey, help me!" His arms, like the 
 arms of a great ape, went out and held her. Something 
 she saw in his eyes frightened her, and he, quick to see, 
 released her as she began struggling. " Scuse me, 
 
JOEL LEAVES CAIRO 339 
 
 missus, I jist thought youse was goin f fall." Then, as 
 she sat down, he hurried on. "I kin git youse away ter- 
 morrer, an when I sells th junk an squares everything 
 up, I ll come erlong. An youse jist go to th hotel an 
 stay till I come. We ll look fer a house an a good 
 nigger girl soon as ever I gits there." 
 
 "Why not take Nancy?" 
 
 "Nixie, Missus, it can t be did. His instructions 
 wus to not let nobody know nothin . An I m to tell 
 Nancy youse goes to Chicago. If youse is boun to give 
 him another charist, do it so as he can t have a word to 
 say but that youse did what he says." 
 
 "Oh, Mickey, I don t know what I would do with 
 out you; you always know just what to do. Do you 
 think I ll ever be able to repay you?" 
 
 "I don t never expect notliin lady ;" he looked at her 
 for an instant, his heart in his eyes. "It won t ever be 
 possible fer me to do everythin I d like to fer youse; I 
 won t live long enough. An lady, they ain t no pay in 
 this world fer me. Look at me !" The long arms were 
 lifted high above the shrunken, twisted body and a 
 pleading face turned to her. "Look lady ; did youse ever 
 think that I might be like other men inside dis here 
 cracklin dey left me t live in ? Well, I is ; an lady, I 
 knows they s nothin in this worl fer me, so youse need 
 n t worrit none bout payin me." 
 
 He was gone, a poor, little, limping figure with 
 bowed head passed out of sight, and the woman who 
 had been wholly absorbed in her own sorrow found a 
 mother s love welling up in her heart for this one of 
 God s children who had been grievously sinned against 
 was being sinned against. As she thought more of his 
 suffering, her own occupied just that much less of her 
 little world, and it was largely because of this new in 
 terest in her life that she was enabled to face the or 
 deal ahead as bravely as she did. 
 
 If she could have had assurance that society would 
 accept the story of her betrayal, her struggle, her pray 
 er and final surrender as a badge of honor, rather than 
 the mark of sharfte; if she had not known that all the 
 virtuous women, and the men attached to them, both 
 married and single, whether virtuous or immoral, would 
 point the finger of scorn at her, brand her with the "scar- 
 
34O MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 let letter" and leave her to rot on the highway; if she 
 had not known this, she would have gone to her mother, 
 to meet her first and greatest trial, hard by the gates of 
 death. But, she knew. Oh, you dear good Christians (?) 
 what did she know ? She knew that unless she took home 
 with her a man to whom she yielded her body on de 
 mand, and offered him to virtue as a reason for her con 
 dition, virtue would refuse to reason at all. And she, 
 who came without the man, regardless of the wrongs 
 man had done her, virtue would not hear ; for, forsooth, 
 without the man she must be unclean. How is this, 
 good people? If a pimple-faced, disease-eaten, siphi- 
 lized reprobate shall induce a woman to marry him, and 
 she bring this disease-breeding pimple to you, my virtu 
 ous friends, and say, "This is my husband," you accept 
 them and their relations and call them virtuous ; yet are 
 they not filthy ? 
 
 Estella knew, and valued the wedding-ring Mickey 
 bought her, because the very presence of that circlet of 
 gold upon her finger would satisfy all beholders that she 
 had a right as a wife to become a mother : would satisfy 
 them, so long as she might be able to ward off their 
 friendship, and its consequent inquisitiveness, 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 CONCERNING CHARLEY. 
 
 Martin, the detective, and Price met at lunch one day 
 when the latter had all but given up hope of getting 
 Charles Harris back. 
 
 "You remember that Harris you sent me to hunt?" 
 Martin asked casually, over the cigars. 
 
 "Yes, certainly, why?" Price was all animation in a 
 moment. 
 
 "Well, he wasn t down in the country, never had 
 been," the other announced, laconically. 
 
 "You reported that, I believe." 
 
 "Yes, but I haven t reported that I found him." 
 
 "Found him; good for you." Price reached out a 
 hand. 
 
 "He wants him mighty bad. Ought to be some 
 dough in this for Martin," the detective thought as he 
 took the proffered hand. 
 
 "Well, where is he?" 
 
 "Down the line." 
 
 "Can you get him up here?" 
 
 "Sure thing, but it will cost money, and have to be 
 handled diplomatically." He eyed the man across the 
 table narrowly and hazarded a guess. "He don t love you 
 any," he ventured. 
 
 "No," Price laughed. "No, I suppose not. How 
 much will it take to get him up here for an interview?" 
 
 "I couldn t promise it short of a hundred dollars." 
 
 "How much for expense now?" 
 
 "Fifty." 
 
 "All right. Can you get him to-morrow? Tell him 
 I made a failure of my machine and Holdon is willing 
 to put up money to develop his invention that will bring- 
 him hot-foot." 
 
 "No, I can t go until next week. But you don t need 
 
 341 
 
342 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 to worry; he s perfectly safe where he is. I don t be 
 lieve he s got money enough to get out of the town." 
 
 "That s good," Price commented as they parted. 
 
 While Price plotted the consummation of a long con 
 templated robbery of the worker, the man who had once 
 had a "vision" was plodding the weary way most labor 
 ers travel. We may understand him better if we read a 
 letter written home shortly after he located in Whiting, 
 where Martin discovered him. 
 
 Whiting, Ind., , 19. 
 
 Dear Mother You will pardon me, won t you, for not writ 
 ing you for a month, when I tell you that we have moved 
 out of Chicago? And in the hurry and worry of moving, 
 though we had little to carry with us, we didn t forget you, 
 only waited until we could write and tell you that we had a 
 fixed address once more. 
 
 Mother, I know your first question will be: "Why did you 
 move?" So I am going to answer it right away. I had to, 
 mother, mine. I could not go on working at a job where all 
 my hopes were shipwrecked. Besides, there s every indica 
 tion, so I hear, that there is to be trouble in the near future 
 between the Holdon company and their employes, and you 
 know I want to keep c^ear of that sort of strife, so it probably 
 Is just as well that I am not there. 
 
 Let s see, mother, mine, didn t I tell you in one of my late 
 letters that I had hopes of getting enough money ahead this 
 year to enable me to get my moulding machine made and 
 patented? Well, mother, dear, my dream is shattered. An 
 other man, a man with money and plenty of business ability, 
 has a machine under way, a machine like mine, and it s all 
 up with me. I have felt sort of lost since I found it out, and 
 at first I was mad enough to have killed the man who had un 
 wittingly taken so much out of my life. Of course it was 
 foolish, mother, but I did feel my loss so keenly that I be 
 lieve Mary was about right when she said I was just about 
 crazy for a couple of weeks. Don t be alarmed, sweet mother; 
 I have gotten away from the environment and am back to 
 normal again and digging away as hard as ever, but with 
 this difference: I have only to work my hands now; by mind 
 is taking a sleep. 
 
 Seriously, mother, I am alarmed about Mary. She haa 
 never been the same since our baby died, and each letter she 
 gets from her mother seems to depress her more and more. 
 I can t interfere; you know I have not been on good terms 
 with Mrs. Holcomb s-nce she discovered that I was deter 
 mined to bring Mary to the city. Besides this, there s the 
 question of religion; Mary is getting more and more like 
 her mother in this respect and charges all our trials up to 
 our sins, and gives her mother s God credit for putting the 
 mark of his displeasure upon us. Oh, how I wish we could 
 have just a little of your sweet faith in our home! 
 
CONCERNING CHARLEY 343 
 
 Do you know, mother, I am sorry, now that it is too late 
 to atone in any other way, that I ever made light of your 
 faith. Somehow I seem to be able to call up your face as it 
 used to look when I treated your charity work lightly, and 
 I am sorry. But I couldn t measure and weigh then as I can 
 now. Oh, mother, mother, a wife is not everything unless 
 ,jhe be nine-tenths mother to the man. Mary is good, true, 
 pure, and I love her. But you will never need to be jealous 
 of her. Pshaw! I ought not to write such things. 
 
 We are settled in a little bit of a cottage down back of 
 the great oil plant, where I found work. 
 
 Write me, care of general delivery. Guess they thought 
 people who would live on our poor street did not need num 
 bers. 
 
 I did one mean thing, mother, when I left the city. I ran 
 away from Mickey Dougherty; you remember him, the little 
 cripple I used to write about. Well, I ran away from every 
 body there. I didn t want a single link to bind me to the 
 memory of my struggle. But it was downright cowardly to 
 treat Mickey as I did. 
 
 Tell father I am hoping that money matters will be in 
 such shape with me soon that I may be able to send you a 
 couple of tickets to Whiting. Then, when you get here, we 
 will spend so much money showing you the big town up the 
 lake that it will keep me working for months and months be 
 fore I can get enough scraped together to send you home. 
 
 When you go to sleep to-night, won t you give me one of 
 the kisses I sometimes felt ashamed of, and just say, "God 
 bless my boy?" We love you. Charley. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THAT VISION AGAIN. 
 
 "Hurrah, Mary, we re going back to Chicago and 
 my machine is going to be built after all!" Charley, 
 elated after his interview with Martin, bounded into the 
 house like a boy. 
 
 "That machine again, Charley," the wife complained. 
 "I thought you promised me never to " 
 
 "There, there, Mary/* he attempted to kiss her, but 
 was pushed away. 
 
 "None of your trying to cozzen me into going back 
 to that awful city." 
 
 "Mary, Mary, be reasonable," he pleaded. "Be rea 
 sonable ; Chicago is no more a door to the bad place than 
 Whiting is; and besides, Mary, the man who I thought 
 had beaten me out in making a moulding machine " 
 
 "Didn t you promise me?" she stood before him with 
 an accusing finger uplifted. "Didn t you promise me that 
 you wouldn t mention that machine again?" 
 
 "Yes, but I was without hope then," he protested. 
 
 "Charley Harris, mother was right ; that machine was 
 born of the devil," she began to sob hysterically. 
 
 "But, Mary, listen to me. Just think what it means 
 if I can get this machine " 
 
 "Don t! don t! don t!" she screamed, stamping her 
 foot, and Charley, looking at her, wondered, rubbing his 
 hand across his eyes, he looked again. "Was she really 
 getting to look as well as act like her mother?" 
 
 "We won t say any more about it, sweetheart," he 
 told her, as he sat at the table, his heart heavy. 
 
 The next morning when he did not start to the shop 
 when the whistle blew its ten minute summons, his wife 
 eyed him coldly. 
 
 "What are you going to do?" she asked. 
 
 "Going to the city," he answered, whistling. 
 
 She had made no comment and lifted a pair of 
 344 
 
THAT VISION AGAIN 345 
 
 straight, tight-drawn lips to meet his proffered kiss 
 when he was ready to go. 
 
 "Poor little girl; between that old she imp of a 
 mother and her own troubles and our poverty, she s had 
 a hard time of it ; but, she s got to get rid of the notion 
 that devils invent machines and use them in the battle 
 for human souls. I ll win her over and in a year from 
 now she won t be the same Mary/* 
 
 "It s just as mother said," Mary thought to herself, 
 as she hurried with her little housework. "She said 
 from the start that the devil had a hand in the building 
 of that machine and would own any one that had any 
 thing to do with it." 
 
 Taking a letter from between the pages of the family 
 Bible she sat down in the midst of her work to read 
 again the last word she had had from her mother. > 
 
 God s chastening hand is falling heavily upon your fa 
 ther, Mary. He s not as spry as he was last year, and don t 
 go out among them wicked old sinners down to the feed store 
 like he did. But he is gettin stiff-necked again, a very man 
 of wrath, and I shudder when I think what his end is likely 
 to be. But you know I done my best to bring him to re 
 pentance, and would have, too, if that agent of Satan, your 
 baby-faced, lyin , deceivin husband hadn t come between us. 
 
 I told you jist how it would be; he d either drag you down 
 into a heathen life with him, or you d have to fight for your 
 soul, same as I did. I warned you that Sunday-made contrap 
 tion of his was nothing but the works of the devil made mani 
 fest, and it is proved true, every word of it. You wrote me 
 you was awful distrest when your baby died. Oh, daughter, 
 lift up your eyes to the Lord; He sent it upon you as a pun 
 ishment for leaving me to follow after a heathen and his gods 
 of wood and iron. And how can you hope for the love of God 
 and His peace while you live with a idolater; and Charley 
 Harris is a idolater. Didn t he say so? Says he: "I can 
 see God in my machine," and that s idolatory. When you are 
 ready to fly from the tents of the wicked, from the doorway 
 to hell and all its abominations, and that s what Chicago is, 
 write to me, and I will come and get you if T have to crawl. 
 Your mother, Martha Holcomb. 
 
 Carefully folding the letter, she replaced it in the 
 Bible. 
 
 "He can choose between me and the machine; if he 
 chooses the machine, I m going home." 
 
 Had Charley looked in upon her then he would have 
 been further shocked at the growing resemblance to the 
 mother, observable in his wife as she went about her 
 
346 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 work. From her father, Mrs. Holcomb had inherited a 
 species of insanity and from him she had had long years 
 of training in its culture. Her only daughter had in 
 herited the same bent of mind and with trouble, death 
 and poverty on the one hand and an openly irreligious 
 (in any dogmatic sense) husband to fill out the measure 
 of her limited vision, there is little wonder that Mary 
 Harris put the narrowest of narrow constructions upon 
 all happenings in her life, and charged all things that 
 brought trial to the agency of the devil, forgetting the 
 while to credit God with anything other than a purpose 
 to let this same devil have his own sweet -will. 
 
 "Come and get me; I m ready to go home/ 
 
 This laconic message was sent on its way the morning 
 after Charley s visit to the city. And he, thinking his 
 wife s silence argued that he had convinced her that it 
 was folly to fly in the face of a Providence that offered 
 to shower blessings upon them, went to his work with all 
 the enthusiasm of youth pulsing through his body. He 
 would give them notice to put another man in his place 
 by the end of the week at farthest. 
 
 Better begin to pack up, Mary ; we ll move next Mon 
 day. I rented a cottage about four blocks east of where 
 we lived ; got it from the same agent." 
 
 "I don t feel able to pack to-day," she had answered, 
 and he went to his work, wondering if Mary was going 
 to be sick. 
 
 He had never known her in but two stages, ready 
 for all the work in sight, or ready for bed. The next 
 day it was the same with her; she couldn t pack. He 
 busied himself with odds and ends after supper, while 
 she sat listlessly rocking, rocking, rocking. 
 
 "Something wrong with the girl; I never saw her 
 that way," he commented, as he stopped work to look 
 at her. 
 
 "I get off at noon to-morrow, Mary," he told her that 
 night. "The new man came, and if you are not feeling 
 well, you don t need to touch a thing. This is Friday, 
 and by Monday I can get everything in shape." 
 
 When he returned at noon, a free man, he found the 
 house in disorder, doors open and the breakfast dishes 
 still on the table. 
 
 "Mary s sick/ was his first thought ; but, an examina- 
 
THAT VISION AGAIN 347 
 
 tion of their rooms told- him another story. "She s gone, 
 gone without a word." He ran from room to room ; then 
 up and down the length of the lot. A neighbor stuck 
 her head out of a side window. 
 
 "Looking fer yer wife?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, where is she?" 
 
 "I thought so; didn t I tell you?" 
 
 He stood mute watching the neighbor turn to some 
 one in the room behind her ; then she appeared again. 
 
 "An old lady came with an expressman bout eight 
 o clock, and they hustled two trunks into the wagon and 
 drove off/ 
 
 Another head appeared at the window. 
 
 "Rather suddent, wasn t it?" the last comer inquired, 
 and Charley, without a word turned back to his deserted 
 home. 
 
 "You fool, what/d you want to put your lip in for; 
 you spoiled it all." 
 
 "I didn t neither, he was goin anyway." 
 
 "He wasn t he d a-told me all about it if you hadn t 
 butted in." 
 
 Charley Harris sat brooding over this new calamity 
 for an hour. As he reviewed his life from the day he 
 had determined to win Mary Holcomb s love to the pres 
 ent hour, he found but one flaw in his conduct toward 
 the woman who had left his home without a word. He 
 told himself, over and over again, that if he had not car 
 ried his troubles home with him, if he had only loved 
 her more, this thing would not have befallen him. Yet, 
 as he thought of those last days, a picture of Martha Hoi- 
 comb in the body of her daughter haunted him, and to 
 be rid of it, he plunged into the labor of packing his be 
 longings. While at work he determined to move to the 
 cottage he had rented and also to send his new address to 
 his wife. If she wanted to return, the door would be 
 open and his heart as well. In the meantime, he would 
 work night and day on the machine ; that would help him 
 to forget. 
 
 So it happened that the next Monday found him in 
 stalling his household effects in a south side cottage, 
 while his wife, in her father s home, sat staring dry-eyed 
 at the sheet of paper on which he had written the new 
 address. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 A SPASM OF VIRTUE. 
 
 Snively sat with Pagan and Hilman in a back room, 
 over the latter s saloon, policy shop, gambling house 
 and free-and-easy. Pagan was biting her nails, while 
 Hilman made Rome howl. Pagan had had her say, and 
 had said it was the last word, but when Hilman, red and 
 blinking, uttered his plaintive whimper, "Well, if we 
 have to get the money well, I won t put up again after 
 this time, that s flat!" Pagan got up and shook a 
 clinched fist at the cowering Dutchman. 
 
 "That s a man all over. Blow and bluster and damn 
 things blue and then turn around and whimper like a 
 whipped pup. You make me sick!" 
 
 Snively looked up and grinned. 
 
 "That s right, grin, you lying blackmailer. You 
 know I don t dare to hurt you, or I d take you by the 
 throat, even if I am a woman, and choke the last grin 
 out of you." 
 
 She turned to Hilman again. "You are the beauty 
 I want to talk to. Here this go-between, Snively, who 
 has had many a good job from me, comes and demands 
 that I put up one thousand dollars to keep my joints 
 from being pulled in the raid the goo-goos are planning. 
 
 And you, you big slob " the Dutchman did have 
 
 manhood enough to cringe "you told me a month ago 
 to come to you if they tried to hold me up again for 
 more than the monthly touch and you d help me." 
 
 "But, my God, woman, I have lost my pull, and it is 
 two thousand dollars they want from me." He was red- 
 faced and panting. 
 
 "Two thousand devils!" Pagan screamed. "You have 
 money enough, why don t you fight?" 
 
 "We have money enough to fight some peoples, but 
 not that bunch of grafters." 
 
 "Don t you think it will be just as well in the end if 
 348 
 
A SPASM OF VIRTUE 349 
 
 you two give -me your promise to pay? You re up 
 against it. They can force you to pay or quit business." 
 This was Snively s advice, mildly given. 
 
 "But, I tell you, I can t and won t pay it." Pagan 
 persisted. 
 
 "But suppose a couple of countrymen were sent 
 down to your place next week and you could clear up a 
 couple of thousand on them. You d do it, wouldn t you? 
 And especially if I send a man to you, who will as 
 sure you that, whatever happens to the guys we send 
 down, you ll be protected?" 
 
 Pagan got up, buttoned her coat and went to the 
 door; both men followed her with their eyes. At the 
 door s he turned with: "I d kill any man on earth for 
 one thousand dollars. Send them along. Some day I 
 may kill a couple for a whole lot less." 
 
 "That woman is a devil, Mr. Snively. She is a 
 devil," was Hilman s compliment. 
 
 Snively laughed and asked: "How about our end 
 of it, August?" 
 
 "I told you I can t pay no such money." 
 
 "Let s say that I agree to send enough customers 
 here from the houses that will be raided to make up to 
 you your two thousand dollars." 
 
 "Now, that s more like business; sure, I ll put up. 
 Why didn t you tell me that at first?" 
 
 "I wanted to see the fun. You see, I ve not had 
 much excitement to-day, and I knew from past experi 
 ence that if I got you and Pagan together and tried to 
 make a touch there would be excitement, and I needed 
 the music, see?" Snively s eyes danced as he explained. 
 
 Now that Hilman knew himself to be in the good 
 graces of the syndicate, he felt a load lifted from his 
 mind, and still smiling, asked : "Who s behind this raid, 
 Snively? I haven t seen nothing about it in the papers." 
 
 "No, and you won t see anything for a couple of 
 weeks. Our people are organizing this raid, in anticipa 
 tion of the annual opening of the gospel mills." 
 
 "What ! you helping them preacher sharps ?" 
 
 Snively s lips curled in scorn. "You don t mean to 
 tell me you ain t on and you in business all these years." 
 
 "I ain t on to a damned thing but this, Snively," 
 Hilman retorted hotly, resenting his visitor s open 
 
35O MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 sneer, "That through your representin our side and 
 Sullivan representin the city, I m held up every year 
 for more and more of the profits of the business ; and I 
 ain t going to stand it much longer." He brought his 
 big fist down with a bang that made the glasses sing. 
 
 Snively put his feet upon the table, lit a cigar and 
 smiled at the ceiling, as he said : "Funny thing how you 
 fellers that don t know the game squeal when you have 
 to put something into the kitty/ 
 
 "Well, if you have no objection, I d like to know 
 why I have to feed two kitties?" Hilman had lost his 
 smile. 
 
 "No objection in the world, Hilman. Facts are, I 
 want to tell you. It will keep you out of trouble; and 
 some day you may feel like reciprocating." At an en 
 couraging nod from the host, he went on. "First off, 
 there s two sides to every question, some have three 
 sides, and others have four. This business has four 
 sides; the politicians, and the property-owners is one 
 side; gospel sharps and goo-goos makes another; that s 
 two. The big gamblers, sportin houses and policy 
 kings makes another; that s three. The pikers, porch- 
 climbers and street walkers makes the fourth. Now you 
 see all the cards in the deck and with your kind permis 
 sion, I m going to shuffle them." Hilman nodded. 
 "Well, every so often, we ve got to have a spasm, a reg 
 ular goo-goo camp meetin when all the papers hot- foot 
 it after the politicians and demand a clean town with 
 the lid screwed on. Before we got organized, there was 
 nothin to it but hell to pay and the fiddler gone with 
 the dough, when the goo-goos got ready to shake us 
 down. Why, man, when we didn t have lawyers hired 
 by the year didn t have no straw bonds, no detectives, 
 an no notice of them spasms, there wasn t no one to give 
 even a square sport a show for his coin. Then we got 
 pinched and ticketed straight thrqwgk, and the mollies 
 contributed regularly to the education of the goo-goo s 
 children. But since we got our side organized, and own 
 some smart legal sharps, there ain t nothin to it. We 
 just wear the goo-goos out in court by practicin up-to- 
 date law, and the mollies only has to contribute to the 
 edification of the politicians. Now, the gospel sharps 
 and good citizens can t be fighting all the other sides at 
 
A SPASM OF VIRTUE 351 
 
 once and all the time, so they takes it in spasms. And 
 we have it doped out to us, by side number one that 
 half belongs to us that the good people are getting 
 ready to throw another fit; that they ve opened up the 
 gospel mills for the regular revival campaign against the 
 devil and all his works." 
 
 Hilman roared. Snively surveyed his audience 
 closely. 
 
 "You seem to enjoy being touched," he observed. 
 
 "What, me ? Not much !" 
 
 "Well, I thought you did, the way you laughed when 
 I said they were going to throw another fit." He 
 paused, but, as Hilman was all attention, went on. "It s 
 their fit that s costing you two thousand bones, my duck. 
 You see they are bringing in ex-thugs, ex-ball-artists, 
 ex-horsethieves, ex-gamblers, ex-mollies and ex-anything 
 else that can carry a tune across the street in a basket 
 or exhort them in the real, old blowed-in-the-bottle fash 
 ion. And for a month there ll be hell let loose on the 
 awful sin of being a sport. When the people that makes 
 up side number one gets wise to the fact that the spasm s 
 comin , why, they tips it off to side number three; that 
 in order to hold the vote of the goo-goos at the next 
 city election there s got to be a crusade against side num 
 ber four just as soon as them sky-pilots calls for it. And 
 there you are." 
 
 "But I don t see yet where my two thousand dollars 
 goes to," Hilman objected. 
 
 "You don t? W T ell, I ll be teetotally say, you ain t 
 a mutt are you? Why, it s plain. Here s us; if them 
 goo-goos was to get the action they wants wouldn t it 
 wipe us off the map ?" An affirmative nod. "Well, then, 
 if we own half the politicians (and it costs money to own 
 a politician, and you ought to know it), and a lot of the 
 property-owners and some of the business men are milk 
 ing us of good money on rents and other things, don t it 
 stand to reason that they won t want to kill a good 
 thing? Besides, there s lawyers, detectives, bondsmen, 
 coppers, and God only knows how many more to pay. 
 Now Hilman" Snively took his feet from the table and 
 looked his host straight in the eyes "who s going to put 
 up the dough to square things with them as has to be 
 bought? And in the natural course of events, who s 
 
352 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 going to be raided and have their layouts smashed ? You 
 see, Hilman, the good tribe are not going to come out of 
 their spasm until they see some several dray loads of 
 junk taken in a raid, and they won t quit pray in for the 
 wrath of God to take a whack at the town until two or 
 three hundred suckers and a lot of cheap mollies are 
 hauled before the law sharks. Well, when they sees this 
 they throws up their hands and shouts, hallelujah, and 
 comes out of it and shakes hands all around, telling each 
 other what a great work they ve done. But say, I could 
 fell them suckers something. My advice to you, Hil 
 man, is to get in out of the cold again. We ll take you 
 in, and then, if we ever have to let them raid your place, 
 you ll have the best lawyer we can find, and get paid for 
 everything the police either swipes or breaks." 
 "I m in, all right, and thank you, Snively." 
 "Oh, that s all right. Your place is big enough and 
 your business, too. It won t pay you to stay out of the 
 organization." 
 
 Amid Hilman s protestations of friendship and a 
 desire to do something substantial for his friend, Snive 
 ly departed. Hilman watched the receding figure a 
 minute, then went back to his den to ponder over the 
 revelation that had come to him. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE MILL OF THE GODS STOPS. 
 
 Beatrice Holdon sat in her splendid home on 
 
 avenue, awaiting the arrival of a tardy lover, and the 
 while Wetherby lounged in the card room of the Eagle. 
 
 "By the fumes," he exclaimed, "I most forgot my 
 appointment with Miss Holdon." 
 
 "Going in for some of that sunny-faced old sin 
 ner s pile, are you?" 
 
 "Say, Gardner, don t you know I don t like the tone 
 of voice you use when you mention Pater Holdon. You 
 don t mean to insinuate that my future father-in-law is 
 a bit of a rogue, do you ?" 
 
 Gardner, with a front of Jove, handsome, hard and 
 polished, smiled cynically as he put two hands upon 
 Wetherby s shoulders. 
 
 "Never mind the old rogue elephant to-day, Wether 
 by. Just center your energies in loving the daughter; 
 when you get her and need to know something that -will 
 open the Holdon treasure box to you, should the Hon. 
 Horace prove a bit close, come to me." 
 
 "Say, Gardner," C. Augustus pulled away from the 
 detaining hands, "I don t half like the look in your eyes, 
 and I don t mind telling you I don t like the insinuation, 
 but " 
 
 "But, let me finish it for you, old man." Gardner 
 touched the 1)611. "If what I know will serve you when 
 the first golden shower has been assimilated, come to me 
 and I will engage to give you the combinaition to Hoi- 
 don s chest. But now you surely must go. The fair 
 one should not be robbed altogether; that will come 
 later." 
 
 "You re a devil, Gardner," C. Augustus declared as 
 he took his hat, cane and gloves and turned to the door. 
 At the portal, he .turned back. "I say, Gardner, don t 
 
 353 
 
354 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 forget that you promised to finance that little trip down 
 to Pluto s Place for the twentieth of next month? 
 
 When Wetherby had gone, Gardner turned his eyes 
 from the ornate portal, saying : "I"m going to my room, 
 George, don t bother me until dinner is served." 
 
 Sitting in a great arm-chair before a toy grate, con 
 suming gas, while stolid iron pipes hidden away in elabo 
 rate trimmings supplied adequate heat, Jim Gardner, 
 shrunken to the size his own estimation placed upon 
 his present worth, thus questioned himself: 
 
 "Jim, I want you to take a good look in at your stock 
 of chips and set your hold-out for this game. Yes, the 
 stakes are high. C. Augustus Wetherby, big family, mil 
 lions behind that name, and clean people, too; different 
 on the Holdon end. I ve got Holdon dead to rights, and 
 the best of it is, he doesn t know it. And C. Augustus, 
 once married, will be a mint. But wait a minute, Jim ; 
 is the game worth the ante? To play this hand, Hoi- 
 don s daughter, who is a clean-limbed little filly, must be 
 sacrificed for the stake. Wetherby s family, although they 
 have millions and unlimited opportunities to do worse 
 that take their revenues from legitimate business, are 
 clean. They must be made to suffer, and they will suf 
 fer. C. Augustus, well, he wouldn t make good dog 
 meat anyway. When I play with him the little brag 
 gart he makes me think of the woman who wrote, The 
 more I see of men, the better I like dogs and he don t 
 count. Do I need to do this thing? That s the ques 
 tion." Huddled in the depths of the great arm-chair, 
 Jim Gardner reviewed the heavy penalties he had suffered, 
 the added weight he had carried in the race, the purse 
 hung up, being a place, food, clothing, shelter, and recre 
 ation in civilized society. While the clock, held aloft by 
 a Grecian maiden in antique bronze, ticked off the min 
 utes on the mantel above the grate, the man beneath 
 checked off the years of his soul-eating struggle and 
 winced and winced again, as crucial scenes on the film 
 of life played before his vision. His hands, lying loose 
 ly on the arms of the chair, suddenly clutched the great 
 leather tufts, his eyes grew hard and his figure straight 
 ened. Ah! There he had been hit hard. There had 
 been a day in his life when, had he taken the other side 
 of the street and met other than the men and women he 
 
THE MILLS OF THE GODS STOPS 355 
 
 did meet, Jim Gardner would have been far from the 
 depths of this chair to-day. 
 
 For a moment his hand passed nervously over his 
 brow; the cold gleam of diamonds, those bits of hell- 
 heated carbon for which women exchange -their virtue 
 and men, strong men, struggle like wolves, glinted on the 
 polished face of the clock. As his hand passed back and 
 forth across his brow suddenly he leaped from the chair, 
 and shaking his clinched fist at the photograph of C. 
 August Wetherby, he cried, "I will do it; I will! All 
 the devils in hell shall not cheat me of this revenge !" 
 
 Again he sat in the soft fullness of the chair before 
 the grate. "What am I that I should sit here crying into 
 my own heart for the things I have lost out of my life ?" 
 he demanded savagely. "If these gold-plated pirates did 
 not fear me ; if I could not make good on a show-down 
 that would put such men as the Hon. Horace Holdon 
 into stripes, do you think they, the ultra respectable, law 
 abiding, God-fearing upholders of the social fabric 
 would permit me to live here and rob other men s sons ? 
 No ! And by all the gods of Rome, no man shall stand 
 between me and my accounting with this man Holdon. 
 If brute force and fox-like cunning is the highest con 
 cept of which these men upon whom I prey have knowl 
 edge, if they will use me, the social outcast, the one man 
 selected by the godly for hell s fiercest fires, to gain their 
 ends in politics, to act as a connecting link between their 
 Christian homes and the society of their mistresses, shall 
 I be denied the right to put my claws into the vitals of 
 the individual among them who but, pshaw Jim, 
 You re making a fool of yourself. Some one said, It is 
 not well for man to be alone, and that is true of you. 
 To be alone is to think of your wrongs. To think of 
 your wrongs is to decide either to sharpen your claws 
 or go jump into the river. Well, it will be the river 
 some day, old man, but not until the tiger loses his 
 taste for blood and his claws are inadequate to meet 
 the demands of the jungle." 
 
 "Come in," Gardner called out, in response to a 
 ring. George entered, and laying several letters upon 
 the table at his master s elbow turned to go. 
 
 "Dinner in thirty minutes," he announced, and add 
 ed: "I saw Snively he said you were to remember 
 
35^ MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 the meeting with the committee tonight at 
 
 Hotel, said the committee is afraid Sullivan is trying 
 strong-arm work in the thirteenth. Snively said you 
 ought to make it look big; said it would be safe to 
 milk em to the limit; said he d seen Smith and he 
 promised to raise hell to-day in the twelfth." 
 
 "Here, old man;" Gardner laughed as he handed 
 George a ten dollar bill. "You are the best ever. Tell 
 Snively that I will see the Honorable, the Committee, 
 and to-morrow afternoon the deal will be fixed between 
 our enemy, Murphy, and ourselves. Tell him I ll see 
 him at his place." 
 
 When George had gone, Jim Gardner left his chair 
 for a second time and he appeared another man, erect, 
 the fire of battle in his eyes, and the strong lines of 
 purpose clearly marked upon an equally strong face. As 
 he walked back and forth across the length of his sit 
 ting-room, he arranged his pawns upon the squares 
 the Municipal Campaign two great parties struggling, 
 two armies of honestly divided citizens, playing inno 
 cently into the hands of "Shifty" Smith, the prostitutes 
 angel, into the hands of Jim Gardner we know him 
 playing innocently into the hands of Sullivan, the man 
 on the other side a combination of all the worse traits 
 in both Snively and Gardner, playing innocently into 
 the hands of great vested interests. 
 
 "I wonder what s in the mail ?" Gardner asked him 
 self, taking up one after another of the letters upon the 
 table. A smile came to his lips as he gazed at the 
 superscription upon the envelope in his hand. "Maggie, 
 or I m a piker." The smile broadened, and one might 
 read in the face of this social wolf a trace of soul. 
 "Maggie I wonder what she can want now?" The 
 envelope lies open upon the table, a hasty glance at its 
 contents and George is summoned. 
 
 "George, is Shifty Smith in town? If he isn t, I 
 want you to find out where a wire will reach him. If he 
 is, I want a letter taken to him." 
 
 "I could telephone him to come over." 
 
 "No, George, that won t do. The thing I want of 
 him won t bear talking about ; I want to put it in black 
 and white and get his answer in the same shape. Go 
 down and see if you can catch him." 
 
THE MILLS OF THE GODS STOPS 357 
 
 As George left the room, Gardner picked up the 
 letter again. 
 
 "Poor little Maggie, she, too, has carried weight, but 
 up to now she has been close to the money all the time. 
 It s a lie ; I know the girl s as square as any on the turf. 
 So Hogan got her gives her the choice of being rail 
 roaded to the pen on the testimony of his hired witnesses, 
 or accepting the queenship of his 5th avenue house and 
 his dirty hogship thrown in as an alternative. Well, 
 George?" 
 
 "Yes, I can get him ; going to be here until after the 
 committee meeting." 
 
 "All right, wait !" Gardner took up a pen and wrote : 
 A. Z. Smith: 
 
 Dear Sir Hogan is assisting in prosecution of Margaret 
 Benton. I want you to either write or tell him that, should 
 he persist in this matter, you will see that he is cut off be 
 low the ears make it plain. The girl is innocent, and his 
 graft is to get her under his control as the price of his pull 
 ing out of the case. I don t care how you do the trick, only 
 do it to-day. For political reasons, Hogan must not know 
 that I have passed this up to you; I ve got to work with 
 him in this campaign. Give bearer your answer. Yours truly, 
 
 James C. Gardner. 
 
 The Honorable Horace Holdon sat in the parlor ot 
 his Paris hotel as he wrote the following letter, addressed 
 to ex- Judge Carton, one of the leading members of the 
 Business Men s League: 
 
 Dear Judge Your letter of this morning fills me with ap 
 prehension. I have known for some time that the Democrats 
 were prepared to take advantage of the seeming laxity of the 
 present administration to make a grand-stand play for the 
 vote of the discontented rabble, the anarchical Socialist labor 
 element. I also feel with you that it would indeed be throw 
 ing good money away to finance a campaign with our present 
 mayor and at least two of the other officers on the ticket. I 
 also agree with you that "A Business Administration" is the 
 very best thing we can offer against the cry of graft that Sul 
 livan is raising against the administration. Your suggestion 
 that I am financially, socially and religiously fitted to head 
 our ticket does me great honor; the further suggestion that 
 my name at the head of the ticket will give our party a pres 
 tige with the moral element that will put us on a plane above 
 even the suggestion of our using the purchasable vote, while 
 it is no doubt true, has in a measure overwhelmed me. I can 
 only add, dear friend, that I place myself in your hands and 
 assure you that I am ready to meet my pro-rata of the legiti 
 mate expenses of the campaign, in case of nomination. 
 
 Yours, Horace Holdon. 
 
MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 Three hours after the receipt of this letter, ex-Judge 
 Carton had his private secretary fousily engaged in get 
 ting out fifty letters, identical in all respects, touching the 
 naming of the head of the ticket, but in personal pleas 
 made to the several men addressed a wide divergence of 
 reasons were advanced in order to insure their approval. 
 To James C. Gardner he wrote : 
 
 Dear Gardner I have succeeded in landing Holdon, late 
 of the Founders Trust, now a plain citizen, for head of 
 ticket and have his promise that he will fill the barrel. I 
 am writing to the others who gave me their pledge last No 
 vember to stand by whatever I framed up to beat the Fed 
 eral crowd in the coming campaign. I ve fixed two other 
 places on the ticket, one for the Provident Gas people, one for 
 the "P. and A.," as the price of their influence in the conven 
 tion. We want you to take charge of the lower end of this 
 campaign, and with Holdon, gas and street R. R., to say noth 
 ing of the moral element we shall be able to call, you can 
 have all the funds you need. We are bound to win. The peo 
 ple are ripe for revolt, and the only way to hold them away 
 from the Socialists is to give them a goo-goo to vote for for 
 mayor and a business platform. After it is all over, win or 
 lose, come to me for anything you want and I will see that 
 you get it. I can say this to you, because you know that I 
 am not risking anything, either personal or political, in this 
 fight. I ll tell you more when I see you. Can you meet me at 
 the Eagle to-morrow at 2:30? Judge Terwill will be with 
 me. Yours, J. M. Carton. 
 
 To a staunch Republican, he wrote: 
 
 Rev. J. M. Alexander, Pastor, St. John s: 
 
 Dear Brother It gives me the greatest pleasure to be able 
 to let you have a foreword of hope, relative to the coming 
 campaign in this city. You doubtless recall our interview in 
 November last, at which time I gave you assurance that I 
 should give the municipal situation my most careful atten 
 tion, and, if possible, so work upon our party managers that 
 they would see the absolute necessity of placing next year s 
 campaign practically in the hands of the best business men 
 of the city. And as I am convinced that the vast majority 
 of our business men are Christians, I trust that we shall 
 have not only a business men s ticket, but a clean business ad 
 ministration, as the result of our November interview. I am 
 pleased to announce to you that Mr. Holdon, of the Holdon 
 Company, a leading member of the Methodist church, and a 
 man who has never permitted his name to be used in any 
 political connection whatever in city politics in the past, ha^; 
 consented to make the race for mayor, provided our party 
 pledges itself to use none but clean methods in the cam- 
 
THE MILLS OF THE GODS STOPS 359 
 
 paign. I am depending upon you to take personal charge of 
 the campaign among right-thinking people in the churches, 
 and especially amongst Prohibitionists. Mr. Holdon is, as 
 you are doubtless aware, an ardent Prohibitionist. Of course, 
 this will not be an issue in the campaign, but believing as 
 I do that we must be both as wise as serpents and as harm 
 less as doves if we are to successfully combat the evil influ 
 ences in our municipality, I feel confident that you will know 
 how to use the information here given. I suppose it is hard 
 ly necessary to add that we shall have to depend largely 
 upon the free-will offerings of our Christian citizenship for 
 funds for this campaign. I shall do myself the honor to call 
 upon you Thursday evening, when we can more fully enter 
 into the several matters that may suggest themselves to you, 
 and would suggest that you see Judge Terwill in the mean 
 time. Yours truly, Carton. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 IN A TEXAS TOWN. 
 
 It is not necessary to our story to recount the hap 
 penings of the early days of Estella s sojourn in the 
 city of Dallas. Suffice it to say that she has suffered 
 and still has faith ; has hoped against hope and is still 
 unconvinced that the man who promised so much is 
 utterly a bankrupt in moral sense. She did not know 
 that Mickey had had two letters from Joel ; the last more 
 insistent than the first, in declaring that the deal was 
 all off and that if the girl had any sense, she would un 
 derstand the situation. Mickey had been sorely tempted 
 to make a clean breast of the affair, but her pathetic 
 faith in her baby s power to ultimately prevail upon the 
 father, to give her the right to live in the world of good 
 women, disarmed him. When both nurse and doctor 
 were gone, and Mickey sat cuddling the little black haired 
 daughter of his mistress in his arms one morning, there 
 came to him a something that satisfied the hunger of his 
 heart and for a moment even softened his hatred of the 
 baby s father. 
 
 The door opened and Estella entered. Mickey, with 
 face aglow, lifted a warning finger, at which magic sign 
 the young mother, radiantly lovely, came up on tip-toe 
 and knelt down beside the two. 
 
 "Isn t she just beautiful, Mickey?" The whisper 
 came while the mother s eyes dwelt lovingly upon the 
 sleeping babe. 
 
 Mickey lowered his head and answered with a great 
 lump in his throat : "She s most like you, lady." 
 
 "And, Mickey, you believe James would love us if 
 he could only see his little daughter, don t you?" This 
 prayer for the sustaining power of another s faith was 
 not read amiss by her knight as he looked into her plead 
 ing eyes. 
 
 "If he s a man, missus if he s on y half a man, he 
 360 
 
IN A TEXAS TOWN 361 
 
 can t in no ways help it." Under his breath he con 
 demned that man to the very depths of perdition. 
 
 "I knew you would say so !" she exclaimed exultant 
 ly. "And now we must write James once more, and this 
 time he will come." 
 
 The baby s eyes opened and a tiny hand reached out. 
 The mother, on her feet in an instant, had the wee mite 
 in her arms, close hugged, while Mickey sat feasting his 
 soul upon the vision and swearing the while that he 
 would bring Joel to them if it cost his life. 
 
 Two letters bearing the same date and the same 
 postmark reached Chicago on the same day. Both were 
 for the same -man, but each bore a different address. 
 Joel received the first at his hotel and as he read it he 
 scowled, and cursing, tore it into bits and consigned it 
 piece by piece to a cuspidor. The second letter was 
 handed to him that afternoon at the Eagle. Joel sat a 
 long time after reading this second letter without giv 
 ing audible expression to his feelings. But if his face 
 was a fair index to what was going on behind it, there 
 was death lurking there for some one who had offended. 
 
 To learn the next step in this tragedy, the reader 
 must scan closely the letter this man has read, as it lies 
 open upon the table before him. 
 
 Dalas, Texas, Dec , 19 
 
 Mr. William Manning: Care Bagel Club, Chicago, 
 Yours afactionate the missus is a wrighten to yo agin to 
 day. And she Wants yo to comb most owfel badshe has the 
 sweatest little babby say it is a Piech. Now I knows yo 
 haint agoine to Comb kauze steller asks yo to, but yo Is a 
 combin Jist the samee cause i ses combAn yo air agonter 
 give her the one more chanst Shes bin a cryin fer cause ef 
 yo dont ime agonter comb ub strait to the Mertroplys an rayse 
 Helle with yo an yo knows i knows how to 
 
 yo don t need to think es how I am out ov coin cause I 
 haint i got 800 Iron dollyars in my close an when I lyed 
 to you bout a losyng de coin i done it cause I knowed yo was 
 a Welsher an intented to do the Missus dirt so yo see ime 
 fixted fer yo 
 
 Now yo comb an comb P. D. Q. er we is combin to the Mer 
 troplys an look up youse fokses an i knows where to look, 
 we ar a combing by Januairy fyrste 
 
 John Williams, 
 
 yose Trule, 
 Mickey Dougherty. 
 
 Joel picked up the letter and read it a second time, 
 
362 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 drew out a bill book, placed the letter in it and returned 
 it to his pocket. He passed a hand across his forehead, 
 muttering the while, "I might have expected it. The lit 
 tle devil! And he lied to me about the money. Much 
 good it will do him once I get my hands on him. I ve 
 got to do it." Still muttering, he went to his dinner, 
 and later joined Will Hammond and a couple of sports 
 in a game of poker. In the small hours of the morn 
 ing, when the "setting" broke up, he said to Will Ham 
 mond, "I m beastly tired of this town and believe Til 
 start for the coast to-morrow or the next day ; so I might 
 as -well say good-by. I m not going out home, too busy; 
 you say good-by to Bee for me, Hammond. So long, 
 fellows." 
 
 Tis said so long as one has life, there is room to 
 hope for better things. And surely Estella hoped for 
 better things, as with a mother s eyes she looked at her 
 baby, and for the thousandth time told herself, James 
 could not resist the touch of those baby fingers. With all 
 the weight of her accumulated sorrows upon her those 
 little fingers had twined themselves about the tendrils 
 of her heart and lifted her even with their puny strength 
 above the world we know, and full into the realm of ex 
 alted motherhood. Looking through eyes of love at the 
 delicate lips, the bright, brown eyes, the dimpled hands 
 of her month-old babe, she told herself again and again 
 that even though the man did not love her, he surely 
 could not refuse to do her justice for the sake of his 
 wee, winsome daughter. Believing this, she sang once 
 more the songs Mickey had heard upon her lips in a 
 time which seemed to him to have belonged to another 
 life. 
 
 While Mickey sat listening, the owner of the cot 
 tage and another man came around the house. 
 
 "What s the matter with you giving me enough dirt 
 out of that hole you have been digging to fill up this old 
 well," Mickey s landlord asked the other man. 
 
 "Nothing in the world, if you ll get it out of our 
 way," was the reply. 
 
 "All right, I ll send a man up," the landlord be 
 gan, when Mickey, anxious to get at something that 
 would take some of his time asked "Boss, couldn t 
 youse give me th job ?" 
 
IN A TEXAS TOWN 363 
 
 "Why yes," said the man laughing. "I never thought 
 of you ; come down with me and I ll give you a shovel. 
 How much is the job worth?" he asked the contractor. 
 
 "Why, if you was buying the dirt, and having it put 
 there it would cost you a good bit ; but, he can have one 
 of our wheelbarrows, and he ought to get five dollars 
 out of the job." 
 
 "That s all very satisfactory," Mickey announced, 
 and went for his shovel. 
 
 Returning, he labored for two hours, and went in to 
 supper, tired bodily, rested mentally, and ravenously 
 hungry. That night as he looked down into the well and 
 guessed its depth at sixteen feet, he concluded he would 
 earn the five dollars if he ever filled the hole. 
 
 James Y. Johnson rode out of Chicago in a Pullman, 
 bound for Kansas City, Mo. As Joel Holdon, he might 
 be bound for the coast, but as Mr. Johnson, he proposed 
 first to settle a little matter of domestic business this side 
 of the Rockies. His only information regarding the 
 whereabouts of those he sought in Dallas was a street 
 address, and that tells nothing until one stands at the 
 door and rings. He did not know that the little cot 
 tage in which they had taken refuge was fully a block 
 away from any inhabited dwelling. He did not know 
 that Mickey had strenuously opposed this and had 
 begged Estella to take a flat down town, out she had in 
 sisted that this "last house but one" on a poor street was 
 good enough, since James had twice quarreled with her 
 because she had made friends with her neighbors. Here 
 she would not have neighbors until he gave her a right 
 to have them. 
 
 Arrived in Dallas, he went to a cheap hotel and reg 
 istered as John H. Smith, Dennison, Texas. Paying fo* 
 a night s lodging, he asked the clerk to direct him to the 
 address Estella had given him. Mickey never thought of 
 sending a street address. 
 
 "At this time of night?" the clerk inquired. "You 
 ain t going out there; why it s past ten and it s right 
 smart over a mile." 
 
 "Well, I m going," Joel answered shortly. 
 
 "All right, you can t miss it; go two blocks north, 
 then straight east. I used to deliver groceries out that 
 way. The house stands by itself, there s about a block 
 
364 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 on each side of it that s open. It s the next to the last 
 house on the left hand side going out. You can t miss 
 it," he called after the departing guest, then took 
 Smith s suitcase and set it behind the office desk, remark 
 ing as he did so : "That guy sure does carry a Jim daisy 
 grip." 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE % MURDER. 
 
 "See, Mickey, she s wide awake as though it wasn t 
 ten o clock. Isn t she sweet? Do you want to go to 
 Uncle Mickey?" Mickey laughed as he took the baby and 
 began to hobble up and down the room while Estella 
 put things in order for the night. When all was ready, 
 she took the baby from his arms, laughingly said : "Good 
 night, Uncle Mickey," and closed the door. 
 
 The boy sat with elbows on the table, his head rest 
 ing upon his hands and his eyes fastened upon the door 
 of Estella s room. Would Joel come and if he came 
 what would be the outcome of his visit. These ques 
 tions, and the answers that multiplied as he gave his 
 mind to the problems ahead, held him motionless for a 
 good half hour. Then he arose, locked the outer doors 
 and -went to his bed in the long, low room above. He 
 was still speculating on the responsibilities and possi 
 bilities involved in his position when he heard a step on 
 the board walk, then after a pause the gate in front 
 opened and the steps came nearer and nearer. 
 
 Estella had taken her baby in her arms, and lay 
 awake, dreaming of the coming of James. He could not 
 resist the claims of their baby. He could not! If he 
 should refuse to live with her, he would at least give 
 her his name, if only until he could divorce her and thus 
 protect their child. Still dreaming of her baby s fu 
 ture, still exulting in sacrifice of self, she was startled 
 at the sound of footsteps upon the creaking board walk. 
 
 That step ! Was it possible ! Instantly she was upon 
 her feet. Hastening to a window commanding a view 
 of the tiny front porch, she drew the shade aside suffi 
 cient to admit a view of the porch. 
 
 The nocturnal visitor halted at the steps, and light 
 ing a match held it high, as he scanned the door for a 
 number. At sight of his face in the flickering light Es- 
 
 365 
 
366 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 tella gave a glad cry "Oh, James ! James !" 
 
 The man turned his eyes upon the window, while she, 
 mad with joy, had thrown open the door of her room, 
 then the front door, and stood in the darkness of the 
 hallway, trembling and sobbing out her relief. 
 
 Joel entered to be clasped tight in the arms of the 
 woman he had wronged so grievously. 
 
 "I knew you would come,. James/ She sought his 
 lips and he, bewildered by this unlooked-for welcome, 
 submitted in silence. "I knew you would come, and now 
 you poor, tired dear, I am going to show you our treas 
 ure before I do anything else for you. Why, James, she 
 is so lovely, and she does resemble you." 
 
 Unresisting, she led him into her room, and left him 
 to turn on the lights. When the lights glowed, and she 
 turned back to him, she halted and looked in terror at 
 the face of the man. Timidly she approached him and 
 laying a trembling hand upon his arm, asked "What is 
 the matter James? You look you look are you ill?" 
 
 And the man, his heart rilled with hatred of this wom 
 an, because, forsooth, she seemed bent upon preventing 
 him from having his own way, even at the fearful cost 
 of her life and the future of their babe, stood with the 
 stamp of man s worst passions clearly defined in every 
 feature. He had not spoken a word since he entered the 
 house. She, standing rigid before him, read in his face 
 the doom of every hope, and as she tottered back, her 
 hand fell upon the warm body of her child. Like a cur 
 rent of fire, this contact sent hope surging back to rein 
 force her reason. Quickly bending over the child, she 
 clasped it in her arms and kissed it. 
 
 Joel watched her as she bent over the bed and his 
 heart hardened. 
 
 This baby was a fetter for his limbs, and so long 
 as Estella and Mickey lived it must ever be a night 
 mare to take a thousand hateful shapes, tormenting him 
 with the possibilities of exposure. 
 
 In that long, low room above, Mickey had bounded 
 from his bed at Estella s first cry. Then when he heard 
 her voice in the hall he knew that at last his prayer had 
 found answer and had brought with it his hour of su 
 preme trial. He hurried into his clothes and hastily 
 gathering his little hoard of money, started to leave the 
 
THE MURDER 367 
 
 room, fully intending to hide out until Joel should leave. 
 The mother lifted the babe in her arms and turning 
 held out her offering of a new life and it s wondrous 
 possibilities to the man. "Take her, James, take her 
 and may God help her to win your love." The pathos 
 of her plea, the renunciation of self, were all lost on the 
 infuriated man. 
 
 With the quickness of a tiger, he clutched the baby 
 and with an oath, flung it blindly from him. The moth 
 er, reading death in his eyes, flew at him with a cry of 
 mingled rage and terror. For a time, he sought only to 
 keep her from harming him, but as she persisted, the 
 devil of unbridled license took full control of his facul 
 ties, and he began to push her back until she fell across 
 the bed. His hands had settled in a grip upon her throat. 
 As her eyes began to protrude, and her struggles grew 
 weaker, the demon whispered to him to end it all, all. 
 
 Mickey heard the mother s cry and the wailing of the 
 baby he loved as he halted at the head of the stairs be 
 fore seeking safety in flight. That cry was all that was 
 needed to bring back the courage that in his mill days 
 had often pitted him against those, who, because of 
 physical superiority attempted to abuse him. With set 
 lips and a face red with the rich blood of a righteous 
 purpose, the boy ran back to his attic room and slipping 
 into his pocket the revolver he had taken once before 
 when he went to meet Joel, he bounded down the stairs. 
 
 The door stood ajar and the first glimpse Mickey 
 got of the interior showed the baby in a huddled, now 
 silent heap upon the floor. Without a thought of the 
 others, he darted in and catching up this, his one legiti 
 mate love, the one affection of his poor, starved life, on 
 account of which he need not feel ashamed, he turned 
 facing the bed, and all the pent-up wrath, engendered 
 during his months of slavery to the man, found utter 
 ance. 
 
 Joel turned his head to meet the angry eyes of the 
 cripple. 
 
 "You little devil ; your time has come !" he cried as he 
 sprang at the boy. 
 
 Mickey had forgotten that he held the baby when he 
 saw Joel choking the mother, and as Joel sprang at him, 
 he attempted to dodge, still holding the baby. Joel, 
 
368 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 blind with a murderous passion, saw nothing but the boy 
 and in his mad pursuit frustrated his own ends by rea 
 son of his haste. Overturning the center-table in an 
 effort to remove it from his path, he stumbled, and 
 Mickey, throwing the baby upon the bed, darted from 
 the room with Joel at his heels. 
 
 The cripple had read the same message in the man s 
 blood-shot eyes that the mother had read for her child 
 death! Forgetting for the time that he held the key 
 to life and death in his pocket, in fear of his life, he 
 started back through the sitting room. The -madman be 
 hind him, had almost clutched him at the entrance to 
 the dining room. On through that room, the panting 
 cripple, now fully possessed of the terror of death, raced 
 for his life. The kitchen was reached, and only then 
 did Mickey realize that he was trapped. The door was 
 locked, and the key hung upon its accustomed nail. The 
 moment necessary to secure that key and that other mo 
 ment necessary to unlock the door, would never be his. 
 Turning from the door to double back, he felt the hands 
 of the pursuer upon him, then his hot breath, as he 
 bore the weaker body to the floor. Mickey, like any 
 other animal, however weak, when facing death, fought 
 desperately ; while the man, intent only upon the accom 
 plishment of a fixed purpose, worked to fasten his hold 
 upon his victim s throat, regardless of the scratches and 
 blows rained upon him. In the struggle, Mickey sud 
 denly put one hand down to his side to give him lev 
 erage to lift himself, and relieve his body of the grind 
 ing weight of Joel s knee, it was then his hand came in 
 contact with the revolver. The mind acting with the 
 rapidity of light, the twisted body heaving upward from 
 the hips, lifted the weight of the man. The free hand 
 drew the weapon, and pressing it against the body of 
 his adversary, a bullet speeded to its work. The grip 
 of the hand upon his throat relaxed, the body above him 
 settled down with a little shudder of twitching muscles. 
 The breath of his enemy came in a sigh to his ears, and 
 was stilled. How long he lay half smoiwered beneath 
 the weight of the man, Mickey Dougherty will never 
 know. In the reaction that followed his deliverance from 
 death, he lost consciousness, and lay as one dead. 
 
 But life and its perplexing problems will remain to 
 
THE MURDER 369 
 
 all who fight death, until he shall finally conquer. So, 
 Mickey awakened to life; to a realization of his crime, 
 if crime it be. Yet his first thought as he shudderingly 
 struggled to release himself from the dead weight that 
 held him, was for the woman and her babe. 
 
 Shaking with terror of the thing he fully expected 
 to find in that front room, he hesitated even when he 
 had reached the sitting room, and stood leaning for 
 support against the table, every faculty strained to catch 
 a sound of life from the room before him. He remem- 
 bered that he had found the foaby lying upon the floor. 
 He remembered that it had not moved in his arms. Was 
 it dead? He had seen Joel s cruel fingers upon the deli 
 cate throat of the mother. He put his hands to his- 
 own throat that pulsed and throbbed with pain, where 
 the same fingers had sought his life. Was she dead? 
 
 "I must, I must, I must," he repeated -with ashy 
 lips. But it was long before his fear of the coming 
 day finally drove him to action. 
 
 His mind made up, he rushed into the room, then 
 halted. Sitting upon the edge of the bed, with eyes 
 that still protruded and seemed dulled with pain, hair 
 disheveled and night robe torn and bloody, Estella stared 
 at him. 
 
 "Thank God she s not dead," he whispered. 
 
 Then seeing the tiny heap on the bed beside her he 
 cried: "The baby, the baby." Taking the mite in his 
 arms, he ran to the light. 
 
 "He killed her, and it s just as well." Estella spoke 
 without emotion. 
 
 "She s alive, she s sure alive ; her heart beats." 
 
 The mother came staggering from the bed and held 
 out her arms. 
 
 "She hain t hurted much, just stunted like," Mickey 
 assured her, as he placed the little bundle in her arms. 
 
 Without a sound, Estella turned back to the bed and 
 lay down with the baby in her arms, while Mickey stood 
 trembling with a new fear in his soul. 
 
 "They goes bughouse fer lots less dan she s gone 
 through," he told himself, as he stood waiting, waiting. 
 But, the mother did not move, and Mickey, remember 
 ing that awful thing in the kitchen, went slowly back, 
 clutching his revolver. A thousand terrors lurking in 
 
37O MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 the darkness halted him upon the threshold. He could 
 see Joel s murderous eyes peering at him out of the 
 blackness; he lifted his revolver and the specter danced 
 away, then came nearer, and as he pointed the revolver 
 again with a muttered oath, the eyes vanished. Backing 
 to the dining table, his eyes ever on the dark outline of 
 the doorway, he turned on the light and in an instant 
 his fear of bodily harm vanished. 
 
 The man he feared was no longer able to cope with 
 the weakest life cell in the world. He lay face down 
 upon a thick woolen rug, and Mickey, no longer a prey 
 to fear, went boldly into the kitchen, turned on the 
 light, locked the door behind him and sat down to meet 
 the greatest crisis in his life, alone and unaided. 
 
 "Of course they ll hang me," he cast reproachful 
 eyes upon the body. "An I wouldn t care t be hanged 
 fer killin a man, but you youse never was nothin but 
 a Johnny. Youse never was, an youse come here in- 
 tendin to kill all of us. Youse knows youse did and 
 I don t want t be hung fer no sich dirty welsher. An 
 I won t! I won t!" He jumped from the chair. "I ll 
 t row him in th old well an tell missus he s gone; that 
 he beat me an then left." 
 
 Fairly reveling in relief at thought of this sure de 
 liverance, he set about his task. 
 
 "They do it at th works, an it s jist as fair fer 
 me," he argued. "An they s one thing I got ter do an 
 dat s take everything offen him; so if any one ever 
 does dig him up, dey won t know who he is." Suiting 
 the action to the word, Mickey removed the papers, 
 bill-book, watch, rings and jewelry from the body and 
 did it as unconcernedly as though he were working on 
 an every-day job. 
 
 His long years in an industry wherein death is 
 almost a daily visitor among the workers had made hi^ft 
 callous and thoughtless of the value of human life ex 
 cept where it touched his friends. Johnson, the work 
 man, killed in the Holdon Company s plant, had been 
 such a friend. 
 
 The woman and child for whom he had risked his 
 life, he loved. 
 
 This thing with its still snarling lips and bloodshot 
 eyes, he had sworn to kill if he harmed Estella, and 
 
"They ain t no priest ner sky-pilot g-oin t say a word t God fer youse, an 
 G-od knows I ain t." Page 371. 
 
THE MURDER 371 
 
 his only wonder as he stripped the body was that he 
 had not thought of the revolver as he went down-stairs 
 in answer to Estella s cry and shot the brute as he stood 
 over her. 
 
 Having removed all he could find that might serve 
 to identify the body, he unlocked the back door and 
 after taking a look about to assure himself that there 
 was no one to discover him at his labor, he returned to 
 the kitchen and extinguishing the light, began the task 
 of removing the body. Taking the rug by two corners, 
 he pulled its burden to the door, then down the steps, 
 and across the grass plot to the edge of the well. 
 
 "There, Joel Holdon," the panting boy exclaimjed; 
 "see what youse got fer being a low-down cuss ! They 
 ain t no priest ner sky-pilot goin t say a word to God 
 fer youse, an God knows I ain t. Yer jist a-goin t 
 b e buried like th dog that youse are. " 
 
 With a mighty heave, he sent both body and rug to 
 the bottom. Then he began the labor of covering the 
 grewsome thing. With shovel and wheelbarrow, the 
 boy worked on in the dark until he was satisfied that the 
 body was well hidden, before he went back to the 
 house. 
 
 Creeping noiselessly to the front room, he opened the 
 door and peeped in; then entered and approached the 
 bed. Estella was asleep, but the baby was crying. 
 
 "Poor little kid, I guess I ll have ter let youse cry 
 till th missus wakes up," he told the baby, then left 
 the room to take up his vigil. "Four o clock an I ain t 
 hardly touched th bed, an I don t dast to now fer 
 fear I might sleep too long." He spread the contents 
 of a paper bag of loot, taken from Joel s pockets, on 
 the little table in his attic room. 
 
 "Now I wonder what s in this here bill-book. Gee 
 whiz! Yallerbacks an five hundred dollar ones, an 
 one hundred ones an a bunch of fifties. Ain t they no 
 little ones? Yes, they is, here s a wad of little ones. 
 He had these here in his pants pocket." He looked over 
 his shoulder into the shadows, bit his lips and looked 
 back at the pile of bills before him. "Ain t I a fool," 
 he exclaimed. "He s got his, plump through him, too, 
 an sides, if he was alive, they ain t no way in th 
 world he could climb out of that hole, an here s me 
 
3/2 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 as has seend all kinds of stiffs, a-lookin in corners ex- 
 pectin to see him. Huh!" 
 
 Busily, he counted and recounted the bills and coins 
 he had dumped upon the table. "Well, if I can t count 
 it, I reckin it s enough," he mused, replacing the large 
 bills in the bill-book and stowing the smaller ones in 
 his pockets. "Now, what s in them letters; if they s 
 anything bout missus er the kid, I reckon I ought to 
 kind a-know it." Picking up one, he took it from the 
 envelope. "Female, by crackey an she s in Oakland, 
 Calif. that s Colorado no California. Miss Ethel 
 White, now what s he a-doin t this here one?" Slowly 
 he read the letter, then with the exclamation, "He need 
 ed t die," threw the missive on the table. "An he 
 was a-goin t th coast t marry Miss Ethel White an* 
 they was a-goin t Europe, an he told her he s a-bringin 
 a sparkler along, fer she says she is countin th days 
 till she sees that sparklin gem he is a-bringin her. 
 Wonder if it s in this!" He picked up a flat package, 
 neatly wrapped. "Gracious snakes, ain t they th beau- 
 tifulest ever," holding up a string of pearls from which 
 swung a beautiful diamond pendant, his eyes devoured 
 their beauty. "An this is th ring my, it s swell, an 
 cost it must have cost as much as a hundred bones, 
 an all of these was fer Miss Ethel White, an nothin 
 but his ringers fer th neck of th woman what loves 
 him like a dog!" 
 
 Throwing the gems back upon their satin bed, he 
 closed the case with a snap. "Them s fer his baby, an* 
 nobody don t get them away from me less I m dead." 
 
 "Well," he went on, after a time given to specula 
 tion as to the outcome of it all, "if I am t know what 
 all them papers stands fer, fora I puts them away fer 
 keeps, it s me t work." 
 
 At five o clock his task was finished, and as the 
 herald of day threw his beams of rosy light over the 
 east, Mickey went softly down-stairs, peeped in at the 
 woman upon the bed, then went out to renew his labor 
 upon the old well. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 SHE WANTS AN ANGEL. 
 
 "He meant to kill us! Oh, my precious baby, he 
 meant to kill us !" 
 
 "She s all right in her top piece," Mickey whispered 
 to himself as he stood without the door. 
 
 "And I ve slept and left my poor half killed baby 
 to cry its little heart out." 
 
 "That s the stuff. Long as she s a-thinkin ov th 
 kid, she s all right." He started to leave the room. 
 
 "Mickey, oh, Mickey, are you up? Has Julia come 
 yet?" 
 
 Mickey turned bac^ and thrusting a tousled head into 
 the room answered, "No, missus, Julia isn t here. It s 
 on y six o clock." 
 
 "Where is he, Mickey?" A wild look of remem 
 brance, of terror, convulsed her face. Mickey allowed 
 himself but an instant s gaze into the woman s eyes; 
 the something he saw there, akin to hate and fear and 
 pain, dumfounded him. Those were not his Estella s 
 beautiful eyes. His eyes fell, and with white trembling 
 lips, he muttered to himself, as he clutched at the door- 
 jamb for support : 
 
 "She is batty, she is. Oh, my poor missus !" 
 
 "Where is he? Tell me, is he hiding behind you?" 
 She sat up, holding the baby to her breast. "Ha, ha, 
 ha! You thought my baby was dead but see I, I 
 saved it. And when the time comes " She nodded 
 her head and smiled with hideous swollen lips. "When 
 the time comes " 
 
 Mickey could endure no more. In an instant he 
 stood beside the bed. 
 
 "You go straight to sleep, missus," he pleaded. 
 "They ain t nothin to be excited over. He s gone, gone, 
 I tell youse, an be won t come back." 
 
 373 
 
374 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "Won t come back? Why, Mickey, I want to show 
 him the baby." 
 
 Mickey, distrait, changed his tactics. 
 
 "Yes, he s gone, an he told me positive when he 
 left, to pack up sudden and hit the grit for Chi." 
 
 "Why suddenly, Mickey? Everything seems to go 
 around and stop, and then go around again suddenly? 
 Mickey, what does it all mean?" 
 
 "It means that as soon as we gits t Chicago, you 
 can have anything youse wants, missus ; anything in this 
 world youse wants." 
 
 "I want to make my baby an angel, a beautiful white 
 angel with long wings, so she can help me into heaven." 
 The mother looked questioningly at him. 
 
 "Can I do that?" she demanded, now scowling. 
 
 Mickey shrank back affrighted at the thing he saw in 
 her face. 
 
 "Sure thing, missus. Dey s a reg lar angel factory 
 in Chicago, they makes em over, jist as youse wants 
 em." 
 
 "Tell me about it, Mickey tell me how they make 
 angels." 
 
 "Some other time, missus." He backed to the door. 
 "Some other time. Now I got to git things fixed so s 
 we can git t that angel factory. You take good care 
 of th kid -th baby, missus, else she won t do fer no 
 angel." 
 
 "Oh, God Almighty what can I do? She s crazy 
 as a dope fiend widout dope," Mickey said to himself as 
 he sank into a chair by the table and buried his face 
 in his hands. 
 
 In the bed room, a disheveled woman sat upon the 
 edge of the bed beaming down into the upturned eyes of 
 the babe, who, after satisfying its hunger, lay staring 
 into the face above it. 
 
 "I m going to make an angel, a beautiful angel of 
 my baby, and then it can come to me in the night and 
 sit on -my bed and let me feel of its great white wings." 
 She kissed its lips and stroked its hair, as she went on. 
 "That funny twisted little man knows where there s an 
 angel factory and we re going straight to it." 
 
 She arose and placed the baby snugly among the pil- 
 
SHE WANTS AN ANGEL 375 
 
 lows, saying, "Now sleep, precious, it s to be mother s 
 
 guardian angel." 
 
 ****** 
 
 "Julie, did youse ever hear of Chi?" 
 
 "Where are -what am Chi?" 
 
 "Chi? Why, that s the short fer Chicago, the great- 
 es mertropolis in th whole world." 
 
 "Not more bigger as Houston, I reckon." 
 
 "My girl, youse could put twenty-seven Houstons 
 into Chicago, an she d holler fer a couple ov St. Louises 
 to finish out her breakfas on." 
 
 "Lord, I d like to see dat town! Got any colored 
 folks dar?" 
 
 "Got any? W y, say, Julie, Chi is de place where 
 colored folks blossoms. W y, say, girl, spouse youse 
 was there broke to-day, in six months youse ud have 
 on glad rags and be flashin real gems. Well, I should 
 say there is niggers in Chi." 
 
 "I d gib a heap to see dat town. I never did see 
 but jus one colored pusson from dat town, an he cer- 
 tingly was bout the gayes proposition ever." 
 
 During this speech, Mickey was eyeing the girl keen 
 ly. He had determined that a nurse would be neces 
 sary on their trip North, and he wanted to take Julia 
 for two reasons. She was practically the only link that 
 connected those in the little cottage to the rest of the 
 town, besides, she had been with them long enough for 
 him to believe she could be depended upon. Drawing a 
 wad of bills from his pocket, he displayed them before 
 the eyes of the astonished girl. 
 
 "Lord, boy, where you get all dat money?" she de 
 manded. 
 
 "W y it grows in our fambly, Julie. I carries all de 
 dough for dis establishment, an when youse wants 
 money, Julie, jist talk to me. Now I wants t know 
 was yer kiddin w en youse sed youse wanted t see 
 Chicago, cause if youse wasn t, w y I ll take yer long 
 with the rest of us. We moves next week." 
 
 "Course I wants to see it near. Reckon I hain t got 
 no ambitions? I hain t none of your low-down trash." 
 
 "All right, Julie, it s a go. An say, when we gets 
 settled in th city, I ll give youse a hundred plunks 
 extra." 
 
376" MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 He counted the bills off his roll and held them be 
 fore her eyes. "A hundred plunks extra, if youse do 
 as I tells yer whilst we is a-gittin there." 
 
 "All dat money and my wages, too?" 
 
 "Sure t ing, I ain t no piker," he protested. 
 
 "Golly," the girl chorused, "I ain t goin to wait no 
 six months after I hits dat town fore I puts on my glad 
 clothes." 
 
 ****** 
 
 "Fo de Lord, man, come in and see what ails mis 
 sus." Julia s frightened face appeared at the back door. 
 Mickey straightened up from his task at the wheel 
 barrow and ran to the house, pushing past the colored 
 girl, who stood trembling in the doorway; he ran on 
 to Estella s room. 
 
 "Stop it ! Stop it t oncet !" he screamed. 
 
 The woman looked up, smiling. "See doesn t she 
 look funny, see how her tongue hangs out and her eyes 
 roll?" 
 
 "I thought youse -wanted to make an angel of her." 
 He took the baby from Estella s lap and she offered no 
 resistance. "Here, Julie," he called, and when the girl 
 came haltingly into the room, he put the baby into her 
 arms. "Run into the back yard an see if youse can t 
 git some breath into it." 
 
 "Didn t she look funny?" 
 
 Mickey looked into the smiling face and sickened. 
 What could he do? The mother demented, the baby 
 in constant danger of death and he loved both with all 
 the love of a starved soul denied other outlet for its 
 passion, 
 
 "Oh, missus, you mustn t never do that no more. 
 We wants to make a angel outer th baby." An inspir 
 ation came to him, "an ," he explained, "missus, if you 
 was to kill it, choke it that way, why it ud turn inter 
 a devil an haunt youse, haunt youse," he repeated as 
 the mad woman hid her eyes and shuddered. "Youse 
 mustn t hurt it. We can t never make no angel of it if 
 it s hurted." 
 
 "I ve seen a devil." Estella caught him by the arm 
 and gripped it until he winced. "He looked like, this," 
 her face took on the murderous look he had seen Joel 
 wear as he bent over her, "and he choked choked. 
 
SHE WANTS AN ANGEL 377 
 
 Do you know him?" she demanded, staring into his 
 eyes. 
 
 "I knows him. If " Mickey twisted out of her 
 grasp "If youse don t want th devil t come back 
 an choke youse agin, don t youse hurt that baby no 
 more." 
 
 "It isn t my baby, you funny little twisted man. It 
 isn t my baby," she sat down laughing. 
 
 "No, it ain t your baby. I knows that, but we kind 
 of got to take it long t Chi so t get it made inter 
 a angel, ain t we?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, I had almost forgotten I do so want an 
 angel." 
 
 "Course youse do, an didn t I steal this here baby 
 purpose t take, an isn t it goin t make a beautiful 
 angel? But don t youse choke it no more er I ll send 
 th devil back. Youse mind what I say." He left her 
 sitting there repeating, "I ll mind. I ll mind." 
 
 He went out to find Julia working over the baby. 
 
 "Man, am dat woman crazy?" she demanded. "If 
 she are, I don t go to no Chicago, an dat s a fac ." 
 
 The baby lay whimpering in her lap, while a sorely 
 perplexed philosopher walked the length of the room. As 
 he walked, Mickey debated whether or not he should 
 tell the girl the truth. In the end, he constructed a 
 compromise. The girl watched his every movement 
 keenly, eaten with a desire for the things she dreamed 
 the great city could give her, a city in the land where 
 her people were really free. She still had a great dread 
 of crazy people, and was ready to bolt at the next 
 alarm. 
 
 Mickey halted in front of her. "Yes, she s crazy as 
 a bedbug to-day." The girl nodded. "We had a doctor 
 in th night an he says she ll she ll be all right agin as 
 soon s we gits her home. She s bin through a awful 
 lot of trouble, jist when her man is t come, we gets 
 a message last night that he s killed an that puts her 
 off her trolley, see?" Another nod from Julie. "Now 
 this medical guy, he says fer us t pull our freight t 
 oncet hit th grit an git her back home an she ll be 
 O. K." He heard a step and turned to see Estella 
 with her arms outstretched. 
 
MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "Oh, there s my precious darling," she sobbed and 
 threw herself before the frightened girl. 
 
 Mickey went from red to gray, from gray to white, 
 as the mother took her baby s face in her hands. With 
 a cry of anger, she turned to him; "See! see!" she 
 shrieked, "see where his cruel ringers caught her throat ! 
 My God, he tried to kill her, and he her father!" She 
 sprang from her knees, her eyes sane and burning with 
 an awful purpose. "Take me where I can but put my 
 
 hands on him, Mickey as God is my judge, I ll kill " 
 
 she staggered and fell headlong to the floor. 
 
 "Quick, Julie, quick, let s get her to bed. She ll be 
 all right when she comes out of it ; th doc sed it would 
 be this here way." 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 LETTERS AND COMMENT. 
 
 Paris, 
 
 Dear Mamie We are living in regal splendor. Every 
 thing the finest. You will doubtless remember that I had 
 some doubts when I started out on this world-seeing expedi 
 tion. I was ever so little afraid that my Angel wouldn t stand 
 to be milked but, the Lord bless you, when I curl up 128 
 pounds of live woman in his lap, put my arms around his 
 neck and play with the lobe of his right ear why, child, he 
 gives down gold, bank notes, diamonds and pearls as a Jersey 
 gives creamy milk. 
 
 Take my word for it, Mamie dear, every mother s son of 
 them the men have a spot the tickling of which will surely 
 hypnotize them. My Old Iron Angel s vulnerable spot is the 
 afore-mentioned lobe of a big, outstanding red ear. 
 
 He s chucked the iron business and we are going into re 
 tirement. Keep the house intact, Mamie, and hunt for the 
 lobe of a rich right ear but get one that is nice and lays 
 close to the head. 
 
 Some day my longing for the fleshpots of home is going 
 to overcome my avarice and when that day comes, steam 
 won t be able to carry me fast enough. 
 
 Mamie, I wish you would find out what Jim Gardner is 
 doing, and write me. I laughed at you once because you 
 said the man you loved could do anything he pleased with 
 you even after he had deserted you. Well, I won t laugh any 
 more. Write me about Jim. 
 
 If the Founders Trust don t fail in the meantime we will 
 reach Italy and be doing Rome by the time this reaches you. 
 
 If Florence is having trouble with her lungs again, give 
 her a hundred, tell her to give Shifty the slip and take a 
 rest. Yours, with love, Fly. 
 
 Chicago, , 19 . 
 
 Dear Flo Your Paris letter came through all right and 
 the envelope looked like some of the suit-cases once-overs are 
 so anxious to show us all stamped up on both sides and 
 ends. I m glad for your sake that the Iron Angel is liberal 
 I haven t discovered the right lobe as yet guess they are 
 built differently. 
 
 I intended to write you a week ago, when something hap 
 pened. I m not going to tell you the story, but must tell 
 
 379 
 
380 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 you that I have taken a whole family, father excepted, into 
 your establishment. And one member of that family owns 
 us all even Big Jack, the new janitor the old one is sick. 
 Well, Jack has surrendered unconditionally. You ll know 
 more about it when I tell you what Jack, as black a fellow 
 as you ever saw. said after his surrender. "Miss Mamie," he 
 said, "hain t dis a culiar place t hab er baby in hit?" His 
 big eyes stood out and he looked as solemn as a judge. 
 "Course I hain t a-meanin no disrespec t you-all, but hit do 
 seem mighty culiar I hain t neber seed no babies round a 
 house like dis heah," he went on there, it s out, and I feel 
 better. 
 
 You will remember that crippled little Irish fellow, 
 Mickey? Say, he s pure gold and all the way through. He 
 brought the baby, her mother and a colored girl all the way 
 from Texas, and plumped them in on me. When he told me 
 how hard pressed he was and the awful things both he and 
 the mother had been through, and added that if you were 
 at home there wouldn t be any talk of the mother having 
 to leave the house until she was able to take care of her 
 self well, I surrendered, first to the baby, then to the mother. 
 The colored girl only stayed two days, when she was whisked 
 away by one of her own tribe, and we haven t seen her since. 
 Flo, when you come home you may fire them, but you want 
 to hurry or you won t see the mother. She s going to die. 
 Now, tell me that you would have done just as I did. They 
 have plenty of money, so I judge the man in the case must 
 have been rich. 
 
 Now, a word about Jim. I had Snively up here and 
 pumped him dry. Jim took to plunging as soon as you left 
 town. I believe I told you that before anyway, he made a 
 killing, and has been playing in big luck ever since. He s 
 bought stock in some telephone scheme and is trying to put 
 it through the Council, though what he can want to put 
 through is more than I know, and Snively only looked supe 
 rior and intimated that too much knowledge would be a dan 
 gerous thing when I asked him. 
 
 Snively swears Jim has not looked at a woman since you 
 left and if he has made a pile, you can guess he has had 
 plenty of opportunity to forget his troubles. 
 
 Sure, I ll keep the house warm for you, and I hope the 
 good news I send you will cause you to forgive me for tak 
 ing a family to raise. 
 
 Come home and I ll tell you the third of a long story. 
 Estella that s the mother will tell another third if she s 
 alive and in her right mind, but the most interesting part of 
 the story will doubtless be contributed by Mickey. With love, 
 
 Mamie. 
 
 Chicago, , 19 . 
 
 Dear Brother You will doubtless be surprised at receipt 
 of this letter, but I feel it my duty to write you upon a very 
 
LETTERS AND COMMENT 381 
 
 delicate subject. I trust that you will understand the spirit 
 in which I write. I also hope that you will heed my sugges 
 tion and return home as soon as possible. 
 
 Well, I suppose I have at least succeeded in awakening 
 something of curiosity in the region from which you draw 
 your amazing business ability, even tho you are a man. So 
 I might as well go straight to the point and have it over 
 with. 
 
 Beatrice is in grave danger. I intended to convey in the 
 underscored words all that I mean, but I find that I have 
 failed. She has gone beyond my control. Frankly, brother, 
 she has surrounded herself with a set of advisers who are 
 dangerous Socialists, labor agitators, a female doctor, and a 
 couple of old-maid schoolma ams who have undertaken to 
 mother the world. I have done my best to bring her to a 
 realization of the nico distinction that must ever be drawn 
 between the aristocrat and the mere laborer. And what 
 do you suppose her reply was? "Why, Aunt Nell, I thought 
 you were the radical of our family." The women of my 
 family are given credit with being quick to turn a speech, 
 but I must confess that for once I was nonplused. You will 
 laugh, but I didn t; neither was I able to explain to Beatrice s 
 satisfaction. I fear there is somewhat more of a chill in 
 your home than the condition of the weather warrants me in 
 feeling. I sincerely trust that your return will not be long 
 delayed. Joel came home not long since, looking troubled, 
 and I having this letter in mind, sought to get a little infor 
 mation from him touching his business, but to little purpose. 
 He seems morbid. Now, brother, you doubtless are surprised 
 that I am objecting to Beatrice s taking up with things I 
 once loved to orate over before women s clubs and certain 
 other "functions," but if you will think back you will doubt 
 less remember that I was rich in those days. Besides, the en 
 tertaining of an avowed anarchist Prince was a bold piece 
 of. originality; while to talk the "brotherhood of man," "the 
 golden rule against the rule of gold," or have a choice bunch 
 of reformers on one s bounty list was the very height of ec 
 centric originality. Yes, brother, I paraded my reforms, tried 
 to tame the revolutionists and pull the fangs of my anarchist 
 Prince, but all the time I realized that they and their brood 
 were not numerous enough to be dangerous. It is different 
 to-day, and therefore I am different. So Beatrice believes me 
 a hypocrite, and I am distressed. I would add a whereas 
 and a resolution or two to this if I were not afraid that you 
 would laugh at me even after your return. Physically, we are 
 in splendid health. I must add that Beatrice seems to be en 
 joying her flirtation with the red revolution to the limit. 
 Yours in trouble, Nell Bishop. 
 
 The Hon. Horace Holdon, Paris, France. 
 
 As this letter indicates, Aunt Nell was acting a part 
 when she received her title of "Radical," and she could 
 afford it then. When her husband had lost his millions 
 
382 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 to some craftier speculators, and she was forced back 
 to a position in the ranks of "poor relatives" hanging 
 in economic uncertainty upon the skirts of the so-called 
 respectable world, she could no longer afford to play 
 with "radicalism" and even "reform" was unsafe. It is, 
 therefore, little to be wondered at that Beatrice, who 
 moves only as her conscience prompts and is constantly 
 educating that conscience to examine more closely the 
 principles involved in the problems that confront her, 
 should come to detest this shallow woman who has 
 played with the fire of truth while living a lie. 
 
 "Have you no faith in the working people?" she 
 had asked her aunt one day, shortly after her arrival, 
 and after they had had some little argument. 
 
 "Faith in them, child ! Why, certainly, I have faith 
 in them. They will work to-morrow and I will both 
 drive and eat." 
 
 "Oh, aunt, that sounds so brutal. Where did you 
 learn it?" Beatrice had asked, and she long remembered 
 the expressive shrug, her only answer. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 ANNOUNCING THE COMING OF MR. WM. ABNER. 
 
 Joel Holdon had been dead but a week when a letter 
 arrived at the office of the Holdon Company a letter 
 that had been forwarded from the Eagle Club. Price 
 looked at it, and noticed the return which gave an 
 Oakland, California, address, then thrust it into a 
 drawer and forgot all about it until two days later, 
 when another letter carrying a special delivery stamp 
 was handed him by a messenger. He looked at the 
 address, then at the return, and thought of the letter he 
 had put away. Instructing the messenger to go to the 
 Holdon residence, and take both letters with him, he 
 dismissed the matter. 
 
 That afternoon he was called to the phone and after 
 a time returned to his desk muttering: "It s funny 
 how some young fellows with money manage to stay in 
 one place over night. Now, this Joel is certainly a 
 peach, and to hear his sister tell how anxious she is 
 about his whereabouts one would think he had never 
 done a thing in the world but write her letters." 
 
 Four days after Price had talked with Beatrice over 
 the phone another letter came to his desk, bearing the 
 Oakland return, and this time directed to the Honorable 
 Horace Holden. Price turned it over in his hands, and 
 at the same time turned it over in his mind. What 
 would he do with it? Evidently the party who wrote 
 it wanted to be put in touch with Joel, and if he for 
 warded it to Holdon it would finally come back to him 
 for answer. Why not have it over with at once? He 
 
 would When he had read the letter he threw it on 
 
 the desk and sat with his face in his hands for a time: 
 "Now what in the name of all the saints could have 
 happened to the fool. Wonder if he found some other 
 woman on the way out there and ran off with her? It 
 would be just like him. Guess I had better call up 
 
 383 
 
384 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 no, that won t do. There is no use of having her 
 
 worrying about the chump. Guess I had better put 
 
 Martin on the case. Then write a full explanation to 
 Holdon." 
 
 The politicians in the world of "Big Business" had 
 known for some time that the Honorable Horace Holdon 
 was to withdraw from activity in the affairs of the trust 
 he had helped to build up, and would stand for nomina 
 tion as their candidate for mayor, and use that office 
 as a stepping stone to things higher, but Price knew 
 nothing of it. So the announcement that Mr. Wm. 
 Abner, of Cleveland, Ohio, would arrive within the 
 week to take full charge of the Chicago plant, and also 
 take up the duties of the presidency, came to him as a 
 bolt from the blue. 
 
 On the heels of this announcement came a letter 
 from the Corporations Protective Association that fair 
 ly scorched the paper upon which it was written. The 
 letter informed the reader that, as they had been un 
 able to get anything approaching satisfactory replies to 
 their letters for several weeks past, they had, upon 
 notification of the election of Mr. Wm. Abner to the 
 management of the Chicago branch, furnished that 
 gentleman with a full and detailed report covering 
 their relations with the Holdon Company, and he had 
 promised a thorough investigation upon his arrival in 
 Chicago. The letter closed with the statement that the 
 three men who had been sent to the Holdon Company 
 had prepared a supplementary report, and this had been 
 placed in the hands of Mr. Abner. The intimation 
 being that they had informed Mr. Wm. Abner that they 
 considered it both unsafe and unwise to trust anything 
 of a confidential nature to the Holdon Company while 
 he (Price) was in charge. 
 
 He was still smarting under the lash wielded by 
 the caustic secretary of the "Protective" when Martin 
 was announced. 
 
 "We ve run the last clue to earth, Mr. Price, and 
 as far as we can find out, Joel jumped off the earth at 
 Kansas City," was the detective s salutation as he took 
 a chair. 
 
 "Did he go there?" 
 
ANNOUNCING THE COMING OF WM. ABNER 385 
 
 "Oh, yes, he went there all right. He registered at 
 the Grand, but he left the hotel within a day and 
 dropped out of sight. Our people are still on the case, 
 but we ought to have some one on the ground who 
 knew him. If he was done for it was a slick job. You 
 don t think he put himself away, do you?" 
 
 "Not him," Price declared. "He was having too 
 much fun; besides, he was to have been married." 
 
 "Another woman in the case?" Martin asked 
 quickly. v 
 
 "There may have been a dozen but not one," the 
 other replied seriously. 
 
 "Then that s all right. But say, we can t go much 
 farther without all the facts. When can we have 
 them?" 
 
 "I ll have to consult another party before I can tell 
 you," Price affirmed, and closed the interview. 
 
 "Now I m in a devil of a hole," Price informed him 
 self as he sat at the desk after Martin had gone. "Con 
 found the man who said wheat couldn t go down. Con 
 found the wheat pit and all the rest of it! And here, 
 before I have any chance to make good, a new presi 
 dent is to be dumped in on me. Why in blazes didn t 
 Holdon tell me? Did he want to catch me napping? 
 The next thing will be to check me up, and when that 
 is done I can see my finish. Damn that Corporations 
 Protective. If it has any weight with him, I see where 
 I get out, even without their looking into the books. 
 Another nice thing for this Mr. Abner to get hold of is 
 my settlement with the unions, and their growth in this 
 plant since Holdon left." 
 
 "By , I ll do it. And when I get him here I ll 
 
 paint millions in the picture of the Harris Machine I 
 show him. I ll hold this new president off until Holdon 
 arrives; pad my expense account enough to let me out, 
 and finally hold my job through my pull with the Hon 
 orable himself. Wonder if I hadn t better put another 
 thousand on wheat this afternoon. It ought to come 
 my way once in a while." 
 
 ****** 
 
 Mr. William Abner a self-made man of fifty years, 
 without unnecessary luggage in the way of flesh, and 
 
386 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 with a superabundance of self-esteem, stick-to-it-iveness, 
 egotism, and a general, all around opinion that he had 
 earned his promotion to the head of the Founders Trust 
 by the application of almost superhuman talents arrived 
 at the offices of the Holdon Company one bright winter 
 morning. 
 
 "Please take my card to your superintendent," he 
 commanded the young man who happened to be the first 
 to catch his eye. 
 
 The young man, Moses Webster, read the card, as he 
 slowly made his way to Price s office. 
 
 "So that s the new president. Looks starchy enough/ 
 was his inward comment. Without a word, he laid the 
 card on the desk. 
 
 "What? Eh so soon? What s he like?" Price stam 
 mered as he caught the name. 
 
 "Looks like the finished article," Moses replied 
 soberly. 
 
 "Well, show him in." 
 
 After the formalities were over, the new president 
 plunged into a cross-examination of the superintendent, 
 at the conclusion of which he announced his program. 
 
 "I never trust any man, Price, and I believe I owe 
 my success to that fact. I was not born in Missouri, 
 still I have to be shown. You admit that you have made 
 Confidants of your foremen; that a clerk in the office is 
 in possession of practically all the secrets of the business. 
 You wouldn t have needed to tell me that. The report of 
 the Protective Association makes that clear. 
 
 "W-hy, man alive, under your management, this busi 
 ness would belong to the men inside of six months. Do 
 you know what the devils did to the men sent out here 
 from the Protective Association?" 
 
 "I have guessed," Price answered in a low voice. 
 
 "Guessed? Don t you know?" Abner asked, con 
 tempt sticking out of each word. "Well, I ll tell you. 
 They were half killed by the union sluggers, and their 
 reports show the unions could never have caught on, ex 
 cept through a leak from your office. Now the first thing 
 I am going to do after I have our auditor check you up, 
 will be to fire all the confidants you have in the plant, 
 also the confidential clerk. How soon can you have 
 
ANNOUNCING THE COMING OF WM. ABNER 387 
 
 things in shape for the auditor?" he demanded, switch 
 ing the subject suddenly. 
 
 "Why, why, not until Mr. Holdoa comes/ Price man 
 aged to say. 
 
 "Not until Mr. Holdon comes, and pray tell me, what 
 Mr. Holdon has to do with my checking up this branch 
 of the business ?" 
 
 The new president s assumption of superiority came 
 from his lips, but it emanated from his whole person, and 
 to such a degree that Price lost his temper. 
 
 "It strikes me," he retorted, "that for a stranger, you 
 assume too much, even though you are to manage this 
 business." 
 
 "That will do, that will do, Mr. Mr. " 
 
 "Price, if you please." 
 
 "Price then. You have been superintendent of this 
 plant quite too long already, and your impudence, sir, 
 your unwarranted impudence compels me to anticipate by 
 several days the date I had fixed upon for your removal. 
 You may consider your services here at an end." 
 
 Mr. Abner stood to deliver the last half of his speech, 
 and made it impressive by an all too evident anger. 
 
 Price sat white and cool. He knew that the outcome 
 of the game he played depended upon two factors, Hol 
 don and time. 
 
 "And suppose I refuse to turn this plant over to you, 
 until I am ordered to do so by Mr. Holdon?" Price 
 reached for a cigar. 
 
 "Suppose you do," Mr. Abner s voice rasped, "and 
 again, suppose you don t ! My man," he shook a threat 
 ening fist at the superintendent "your bluff is an in 
 sult, an insult, sir! I am president of this whole in 
 dustry, and manager of this individual plant." 
 
 Price nodded. "Exactly, but it happens that Mr. 
 Holdon s interests cannot be protected if I turn the busi 
 ness over to you to-day, and as he has not notified me to 
 put you in charge, why " He smiled up at the dap 
 per, little man. "I must decline to comply with your 
 request. I would strongly advise you to defer to my 
 wishes in the matter." 
 
 "I shall see our attorneys, sir. I strongly suspect 
 something crooked here," the little man fumed. 
 
 "And tell them that the superintendent refused to let 
 
388 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 you play "bull in the china shop with this business," Price 
 sneered. "Do so by all means. They will tell you that 
 I am the manager of this plant, and am well within my 
 right, when I refuse to turn the business over to you or 
 any other man." 
 
 "But I tell you, I was elected manager of this plant, 
 and I propose to manage it." 
 
 "You forget that your election would not stand a 
 test in the courts any more than would the Founders 
 Trust. I do not forget, and my duty is plainly to pro 
 tect the majority stockholder s interests here, until such 
 time as he. relieves me of the responsibility." 
 
 Price s attitude of virtuous solicitation for the in 
 terests of the powerful Mr. Holdon began to take lodg 
 ment in the mind of the new president. 
 
 "I declare, I declare," he ejaculated, seating himself. 
 "This is an extraordinary situation. You really mean to 
 tell me, the president, that you will not allow me to as 
 sume control here until Mr. Holdon authorizes you to 
 do so." 
 
 "Exactly, Mr. Abner," Price faced the little man, 
 "and when he does, you can check the business up, and 
 begin firing commencing with me, of course," he added. 
 
 "Well, well, well, I ve been in business for years, and 
 thought I knew every kink and turn in the game, but 
 I ve learned a new one." 
 
 "Would you care to visit the plant and get acquaint 
 ed?" Price questioned, convinced that he had won his 
 point, and sensible of the fact that to press it too far, 
 might result in shipwrecE 
 
 "Why, yes, I suppose I might as well. When will 
 Mr. Holdon arrive ?" Abner asked as they got .up. 
 
 "I cabled him a week ago, and expect him within 
 
 two weeks," Price replied, and they went to the shops. 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 "Arrive in New York, 2Oth. Telegraph news. 
 
 "Holdon." 
 
 Price and Charley Harris were seated in the rooms 
 over "Shifty" Smith s, when Price produced the above 
 telegram, and said : "I wired him to meet me here upon 
 his arrival, and I will want you to be here to explain our 
 work to him. And Harris," he added, "make it strong. 
 He took a fancy to you at first, and would have tried 
 
ANNOUNCING THE COMING OF WM. ABNER 389 
 
 your machine out then, if I hadn t had mine in my head." 
 
 Two days later Price made a hurried trip to the lit 
 tle machine shop where Harris was working on his ma 
 chine. 
 
 "He ll be in to-night at eight o clock, and I want you 
 to come up, come up the back way about ten o clock." 
 
 He looked about the shop for a time, then stood 
 watching the mechanic at his work. 
 
 "How s she coming?" he asked, idly handling a pat 
 tern. 
 
 Charley turned a beaming face to him. "Coming 
 along nicely, Mr. Price. In two months at the outside, 
 I can have it ready to turn out a mountain of castings 
 a day." 
 
 "That s good, that s good. Just keep the pace," he 
 encouraged, "and you ll land a millionaire." 
 
 "Confounded lucky thing I tumbled onto old Hoi- 
 don s political aspirations," Price told himself on the 
 way back. "If he won t fix things at the plant on the 
 strength of this machine, he ll have to fix them to save 
 himself a little bit of annoyance I might cause him by 
 putting certain parties next to his European trip, and 
 some of his property holdings downtown. Oh, I guess 
 he ll come across all right. Then Mr. Abner can have 
 his management. I ll take mine along with politics and 
 this new moulding machine." 
 
 The Honorable Horace Holdon reached Chicago on 
 schedule time, and after a flying trip home, went down 
 town, in spite of the protest of both Aunt Nell and 
 Beatrice. 
 
 "Well, Price, how does everything look? Your wire 
 frightened me. I can t think what that boy could have 
 done with himself, and I didn t want to come home for 
 two months." 
 
 "Having a good time?" the superintendent inquired. 
 
 "A good time," Holdon leered across the board. 
 "Never had such a time in my life. But about Joel," the 
 magnate s face showed concern. 
 
 "You ll have to go to Kansas City. That s the last 
 word from Martin. I sent him down there a week ago. 
 I ve done everything money could do." 
 
 "When do they expect me?" 
 
 "As soon as you can go. I took it upon myself to 
 
39O MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 inform the agency that you would be there day after to 
 morrow. And they " 
 
 "Say that s rather well, I suppose I had best know 
 all about it as soon as possible." 
 
 At this point, Price proceeded to tell Holdon how he 
 had taken funds out of the Holdon Co. s safe to meet 
 the detective s charges, and then, apparently as an after 
 thought, said: "And by the way, that Harris moulding 
 machine has taken a pretty penny, and of course, I took 
 that out of the safe, too." 
 
 "How did you square things with Mr. Abner?" Hol 
 don inquired witJh interest. 
 
 "I couldn t; could I, without exposing your connec 
 tion with the Harris deal? Price looked depressed. 
 
 "No, that s so, and, great guns, man !" Holdon was 
 excited. 
 
 "Oh, I fixed it all right," Price interrupted, but with 
 a long face. 
 
 "Fixed it with Abner why that prying, long-nosed 
 fox. Say, I d rather have Sherlock Holmes on my trail 
 than our president." 
 
 "Well, when I tell you how I fixed him, you can let 
 your mind rest." Price pulled at his mustache. 
 
 "Well, out with it." 
 
 "I bluffed him out." 
 
 "You didn t bluff Abner?" 
 
 A look of unbelief mingled with mirth, sat upon Mr. 
 Holdon s countenance, as he regarded his vis-a-vis. 
 
 "Yes, I did. He demanded that I check up, and get 
 out, and I as flatly refused to do so until you should 
 come, and relieve me. Told him I -was protecting your 
 interests, and wouldn t give up my position as manager 
 until you released me." 
 
 "Say, that was great. How did he take it? Stormed, 
 didn t he ?" The magnate seemed to relish it hugely. 
 
 "Well, yes, you might say he stormed, and it s been 
 deuced unpleasant for me." 
 
 "Oh, we ll fix all that," Holdon beamed. Tomor 
 row morning we ll turn the plant over to him, and I ll 
 leave you a check, payable to Mr. Abner. If I am not 
 back from Kansas City . by the time the auditor gets 
 through. He s here, isn t he?" 
 
ANNOUNCING THE COMING OF WM. ABNER 3QI 
 
 "Yes, he got here the day after Mr. Abner arrived, 
 and they are both as mad as wet hens," Price answered, 
 with a light heart. 
 
 "Well, as I was saying, I ll leave a check, and when 
 they get the cash figured up, you can fill in the sum of 
 the shortage, and explain that you drew it out for my 
 private account, while I was in Europe. That will fix 
 it." 
 
 "The very thing, and do you know, I never thought 
 of that, or I would have turned the office over to them, 
 and told them that you would draw a check to cover 
 the shortage." 
 
 "Didn t think of it, eh ? Well, you did very well as 
 it was," Holdon commented, well pleased that Price had 
 held out against the redoubtable Abner and the au 
 ditor. 
 
 The sound of footsteps on the back stair claimed the 
 attention of both men. 
 
 "By the way, Mr. Holdon," Price hastened to ex 
 plain. "I thought you might want to verify my state 
 ments regarding the Harris machine by having a talk 
 with Harris, so I asked him to come up about ten o clock, 
 and I guess he is coming." 
 
 "Price, you made a mistake there." (A knock on the 
 door). "Hurry and tell him I didn t come, anything to 
 get rid of him." Price showed his bewilderment, and 
 stood looking helplessly at his employer. 
 
 "Hurry, man! Don t stand there staring." 
 
 The door was opened a crack, and Price put his face 
 to the opening. "That you, Harris," he whispered. "Well, 
 I m sorry that you had the trip for nothing. He didn t 
 come, and I have a lady visitor." 
 
 "All right. Happy dreams," Charley replied, and 
 moved away, but as he passed the window, and noticed 
 that the shade was not drawn quite to the bottom he 
 stooped and looked into the room. 
 
 "What sort of game is this?" he muttered, as he 
 caught sight of the Honorable Horace Holdon standing 
 at the farther side of the long table. "He lied to me I 
 wonder why?" 
 
 "Is he gone?" Holdon inquired in a stage whisper. 
 Price put his finger to his lips, and turned to the door. 
 
392 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 He had been listening, and failing to hear descending 
 footsteps, concluded that Harris was still at the door. 
 
 Harris could not see Price, but from Holdon s atti 
 tude and looks concluded that they suspected him of 
 eavesdropping, so he tiptoed to the stairway and made 
 an unnecessary amount of noise as he went hastily down. 
 
 "He s gone," Price whispered, taking his place at the 
 table. 
 
 "You should not have had him come up here ; not to 
 night anyway. One man is enough to be mixed up in 
 the business, so in the future steer him clear of me. I 
 don t want to see him, or have anything to do with it 
 until we are ready to close up the business." 
 
 "Very well, if you say so, but you know I ve been 
 telling him, just to jolly him along, how pleased you 
 would be." 
 
 "Well, you can tell him to-morrow that I ve gone to 
 Kansas City, and when I get back you can tell him I m 
 too busy to see him. I ll leave this matter entirely in 
 your hands." 
 
 "But how about it, if Abner fires me, and I suppose 
 he will." 
 
 "Why? Oh, I see, because you bluffed him out. 
 Well I ll take care of you. You ve certainly got nerve, 
 and I ll need a good man to look after loose ends, from 
 now on. Don t worry. I ll look out for you." 
 
 When Holdon left, Price sat for a long time, think 
 ing of the tangled skein of life, thinking of the knotted 
 snarl that had been straightened out so easily that night. 
 
 "Confound it, I might as well take ten thousand 
 more," he said aloud, "and I will, if he gives me that 
 check, as he promised. What s the difference?" he de 
 manded of the wine bottle, "by the time he gets the 
 check back if he sees it at all I ll be so deep in his 
 confidence, and he ll be so deep in politics, that he won t 
 dare to peep. And won t that little piece of congested 
 self-conceit, our president, get a surprise at nine o clock 
 to-morrow morning, when Mr. Holdon walks in, hands 
 me that check, and orders me to turn the plant over to 
 Mr. Abner. Well, I should think so." 
 
 The next morning at the appointed hour, Mr. Holdon 
 was announced, at the close of a very unpleasant half hour 
 
ANNOUNCING THE COMING OF WM. ABNER 393 
 
 for his superintendent, who had been hard pressed by 
 both Mr. Abner and the auditor, who wanted to finish 
 his work and get away. 
 
 "Mr. Holdon, I m delighted to see you, delighted, 
 because if anything had kept you from appearing here 
 in person, I am satisfied that your very excellent super 
 intendent would have compelled us to go to the courts, 
 before he would have turned the business over to us." 
 Mr. Abner ended his remark with a very peculiar smile 
 in the direction of Price. 
 
 "Quite right, quite right, Mr. Abner. I assure you 
 he did just what I would have had him do. Protected 
 my interests as he saw them." 
 
 Mr. Holdon was not averse to posing, and he surely 
 played it up very well, as he pulled out his bill-book, 
 and extracted the promised check. "There, Mr. Price, 
 if you have used any of the firm s funds for my private 
 account, and I conclude that you have, just fill in the 
 amount and turn the check over to Abner." 
 
 "Thanks, Mr. Holdon," Price replied, while Mr. 
 Abner and the auditor stared. "I suppose I am released 
 from responsibility, and that Mr. Abner and the auditor 
 are to consider themselves in charge." 
 
 "Exactly, and gentlemen " Mr. Holdon turned at 
 the door, "I must beg your pardon for a hasty leave- 
 taking, but I am called to Kansas City. When I return, 
 I shall want a business talk with you, Mr. Abner." 
 
 Fingering the check, and smiling blandly, Price 
 turned to Mr. Abner. 
 
 "My dear sir," he said, "you are now in full posses 
 sion of your office, and I desire that your first official 
 act shall be the acceptance of my resignation as manager 
 and superintendent." 
 
 "Not until we have checked up the office," the au 
 ditor interposed. 
 
 "As you will, gentlemen. If not now, then at your 
 pleasure." 
 
 His eyes were on t he oblong bit of paper over which 
 he drew the fingers of his left hand, vaguely wondering 
 what Holdon would say when he next saw it. 
 
 Within an hour after Holdon had left the office, Price 
 had drawn another ten thousand from the funds of the 
 
394 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 firm. As soon as he had the money deposited in another 
 bank to his credit, he entered into the work of the au 
 ditor with a vim that surprised that astute official. But 
 it would not have surprised him could he have known 
 that Price wanted the work finished before Holdon re 
 turned from Kansas City, in order that he might get the 
 check out of his hands. 
 
 "You are thirty thousand dollars short, ten thousand 
 of it drawn yesterday." The auditor looked hard at 
 Price, and Abner gasped, "Thirty thousand dollars 
 short. So that s" but he got no further. 
 
 "Gentlemen," Price began, "I am agreeably surprised. 
 I thought the amount would touch close to forty thou 
 sand. You see," he looked at them unblinkingly,"Mr. Hol 
 don has several large business interests. When he went 
 to Europe he gave me charge of some of them, and I 
 drew from this firm s account occasionally, simply as a 
 matter of convenience, as was the case yesterday." 
 
 He got up, and taking the balance sheet from the au 
 ditor, remarked: "I suppose you have no objection to 
 my having your figures verified, before I fill in this 
 check for the amount necessary to balance cash ?" With 
 out waiting a reply, he took the sheet out to Moses desk, 
 and asked him to check it up and bring it back to the 
 office. 
 
 While he was out, the auditor stepped over to his 
 desk; picked up the Holdon check; looked at it closely, 
 and remarked : "Mr. Holdon evidently has implicit con 
 fidence in Mr. Price." 
 
 "Oh, that doesn t necessarily follow," Abner replied. 
 
 Then Price returned, and busied himself at his desk, 
 sorting papers until Moses came in. 
 
 "The footings are correct," he announced, laying the 
 sheets on Price s desk. 
 
 Without a word the latter drew the check toward 
 him, glanced at the figures, wrote in the amount, and 
 handing the check to Mr. Abner, said : "With my com 
 pliments, and my resignation." 
 
 At this moment a messenger entered and handed 
 Price a telegram. 
 
 "See Judge Terwill to-morrow without fail. Letter 
 follows. Two clues. Holdon." 
 
ANNOUNCING THE COMING OF WM. ABNER 395 
 
 "Letter follows, does it? Well if that letter contains 
 the things it should, I m all to the good with the Hon 
 orable Horace Holdon. I m to see the Judge. I wonder 
 if he is behind Holdon s political ambitions." Price 
 folded the telegram, put a few personal belongings in a 
 grip and left the offices of the Holdon Company, with 
 out a word of farewell to any one, 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 AN IRON ANGEL. 
 
 Florence, Italy, Jan. 20, 
 
 Dear Mamie My Iron Angel has gone, and by the time 
 this reaches you he, too, will be in the city by the lake. He 
 didn t insist upon my accompanying him, though he did 
 show every sign of emotion at parting, and, really, I felt 
 mean when I thought how I had written you of his outstand 
 ing red ears. 
 
 He certainly came across in handsome style before he left 
 me, and I have since excused myself, to myself, for loving 
 him half to death after he gave me the draft on a bank in 
 Rome. And he didn t even ask me to be good while he was 
 gone, not a word. Just told me to go ahead and see things 
 as we had planned. But, really, I am tiring of the endless 
 procession of good clothes on foreign backs, gold braid and 
 shining swords on local dignitaries, and the endless, endless, 
 ever-pressing, ever-changing, yet always the same mass of 
 fantastically rag-clad, begging poor. The money in my pocket 
 fairly burns to be spent, and every attempt I make to spend 
 it is met by such bold-faced, smiling, wheedling, cajoling liars 
 and extortioners that I end up by refusing to part with any 
 of my coin. 
 
 I long for Chicago, the city of a million wonderful things. 
 And if this gnawing home-hunger keeps up for another week, 
 Fm going to come; in fact, I feel now that I am coming to go. 
 
 Your family cares do not worry me at this distance. If 
 your conscience, now in the sere and yellow leaf, upholds 
 you, I have nothing to say at this distance. The Lord knows 
 the house is big enough, but a baby? A baby in a house 
 where no child has a right to abide by any law written or un 
 written, a baby, Mamie! But there, I dare not judge; when 
 I come home we will take your Mickey and your mother, and 
 your baby Into executive session and decide their fate in- 
 stanter. 
 
 So Jim plunged, made a stake, went into business, and is 
 now turning his matchless talents to account in politics. 
 Mamie, the one trait I admired above all others in Jim Gard 
 ner was his honesty he was square with men. I doubt very 
 much whether he can retain his honesty and succeed in Chi 
 cago politics. But, ai yway, I was glad and sorry; somehow 
 all my joys are half of sorrow. You didn t mention May in 
 your last. Is she better or worse? 
 
 If you need money, don t be afraid to ask for it; or have 
 you still a few dollars left? Your homesick Fly. 
 
 396 
 
AN IRON ANGEL 397 
 
 To this letter Mamie replied: 
 
 Dear Flo We have been living with death in the house 
 for two weeks and he has taken his victim at last. 
 
 Bstella had not been here a week when she became so ill 
 that we felt compelled to call a doctor, your doctor. He gave 
 us no hope. The strangest thing about her was that she 
 denied that she ever had a baby, denied it from the day she 
 was taken sick. And do what we would, she persisted that 
 the baby could not po&sibly belong to her. I sent for Mickey 
 and he said she had been the same way in Texas and suggest 
 ed that we keep the baby away from her. When the doctor 
 made his first call Mickey was here, and I told the doctor 
 Mickey could tell him all about the case; and whatever pos 
 sessed him I don t know, but he asked the doctor if she was 
 going to die, and I thought he would faint when the doctor 
 said, "Yes, there isn t a single chance for her." 
 
 Then the doctor asked him if she didn t have a baby, and 
 Mickey said she had, but they had left it in an orphans 
 home in Missouri, and I sat there and let him lie. When the 
 doctor was gone I asked why he had lied, and, would you be 
 lieve it, he said if he had told the doctor the truth he would 
 have had some old hen or other taking the baby away, and 
 he wanted it and would die before he d let anybody have it. 
 Did you ever hear of the like? 
 
 I had made up my mind to tell the doctor, and I guess 
 my looks must have given me away, for Mickey actually went 
 down on his knees and begged me not to tell, and I prom 
 ised. So we have been hiding every trace of the baby, and 
 the doctor don t suspect a thing. 
 
 Long before this reaches you we will have had a funeral 
 from the house. 
 
 I wish you were here to help me, to advise just what to 
 do now and afterward with Mickey and the baby. The colored 
 girl they brought from Texas has gone. 
 
 Later: Mickey brought me a five-hundred-dollar bill, and 
 asked me in a matter-of-fact way to get it changed for him. 
 When I looked at it, then at him, and sat absolutely speech 
 less, he looked at me a minute as solemn as a judge and 
 said: 
 
 "I wish Fly Boyd was here. She d know how to help a 
 feller without all the time a-lookin like she wanted to call in 
 the bulls." 
 
 Well, I took that bill up again. 
 
 "It s good, all right, and I got plenty more; enough to 
 keep the baby an make a lady of her. Are youse goin to~ 
 get it busted for me?" he demanded, and I still sat there like 
 a fool. 
 
 Finally, I came to, and promised to get it "busted" for 
 him. But, what do you think of. it? I do wish you were 
 here. Mickey would tell you the whole story; I might pump 
 until doomsday and get nothing but a string of lies out of 
 him. 
 
398 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 Still Later: I went to Jim Gardner s office (yes, he has 
 a, swell office now) and asked him to break the bill. Say, he 
 turned it over and over. He s dead in love with you, Flo. He 
 thought he knew where it came from. "Holdon s money, is 
 it?" he said, and looked frightfully wicked. I don t know 
 what I said, but he asked: "When did she get home?" And 
 I wanted to know who? "Why, Fly; didn t she come with 
 old Holdon?" He nearly bit my head off. When I said: "No, 
 she didn t; she s in Florence, Italy. Want to send a word 
 over?" he started to say "yes," then changed his mind and 
 changed Mickey s bill. Yours with love, Mamie. 
 
 P. S. I must tell you how our visitor died, Flo. I must. 
 
 Yesterday morning when the doctor came out of her room 
 we stood huddled at the door. I started to enter the room 
 and he caught me by the arm. "Don t go in; her knight-er 
 rant is with her. Let him have her all to himself these last 
 few minutes. Come," he added, "let s sit down; I want to 
 ask you about her. I ve done all that can be done." 
 
 When he and I were seated in the big front parlor, the 
 doctor asked: "What do you know of this woman?" I re 
 lated the circumstances of her coming to the house, and he 
 said: 
 
 "I have met with some strange experiences in my practice, 
 but never with a case like this. That Mickey knows more 
 than he has told me, I am satisfied; but that l.e does not 
 know her name, I am sure. They tell me the love of woman 
 passes understanding, but in this case it s the love of a man, 
 a big-hearted, whole-souled man in a fearfully abused body, 
 that passes understanding. I wish I knew her name. My 
 certificate of death must be made out, and it must bear more 
 than the name of Estella." 
 
 Just then Jane came downstairs sobbing. We ran to the 
 door. "Oh, come, she s dying!" the girl cried, and started 
 back. 
 
 When we entered the room the doctor ran to the bed and 
 lifted Mickey, a dead weight, from across the body of the 
 woman he had loved, loyally, honorably, faithfully, while he 
 might serve her. Gently we laid him upon the divan, and the 
 doctor paid a man s tribute to a man when he wiped his eyes 
 and went back to the bed. 
 
 "Dead," he whispered. 
 
 Mickey struggled up and sat wild-eyed, looking first at 
 one, then another of us, as he said: "She s dead; but she 
 knowed me. She knowed me." Great tears rolled down over 
 his cheeks. "She said, Mickey, I m so glad he didn t kill 
 youse. " The words had hardly left his lips when he realized 
 what he had said, and, shaking off his emotion, sat staring 
 straight before him. 
 
 The doctor turned to him. "Mickey, won t you tell me her 
 name?" Mickey started and sought the doctor s eyes, a 
 troubled look on his face. 
 
 "I don t dare t tell youse th name she ought to have, 
 Doc; an afore God, I don t know her other name." 
 
AN IRON ANGEL 399 
 
 "Did she never tell you her name? She s dead, Mickey, 
 and we must know her name." 
 
 "Doc, I asked her;" he gulped down a sob; "asked her 
 what her name was afore she met him, an* she begged me 
 never to ask her again, till he married her, an he never 
 did." 
 
 "But I must fill out a burial certificate, and I must have 
 another name." 
 
 "Ef youse must, Doc, w y not give her my name? It won t 
 matter none to her when she s dead, an an I was all she 
 had in the worl to th* last." He got up and, feeling blindly 
 for the doorway, left the room. 
 
 Do come home, Flo. Come as soon as ever you can. 
 
 With love, Mamie, 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE LETTER HE WANTED. 
 
 The second letter that came to Price from Kansas 
 City made him wish he had taken twenty, even thirty 
 thousand more from the Holdon Company s cash, 
 
 Dear Price You will have seen the Judge by this time. 
 Write me what he had to say. 
 
 I wouldn t write this letter, but I may start for Texas to 
 morrow. The agency thinks it has a new clew leading to 
 Dallas, so I am uncertain as to where I will be at this time 
 to-morrow. A. M. White, of California, is here with two de 
 tectives on our case. Joel was to have been married to his 
 sister. I want you to put a good man on the back track in 
 Chicago; I want to know what he (Joel) had been doing for 
 a year. I don t like this agency; they seem to be pulling my 
 leg and giving me nothing in return but pipe dreams. 
 
 Now, about that Harris business. I want you to have each 
 piece of the machine duplicated, with the changes in shape 
 of patterns and in the driving mechanism, as Robinson sug 
 gested. Have Robinson sign over all rights in the machine 
 to me. Pay him whatever you have to. I enclose draft. Get 
 the rest of the drawings of Robinson s machine to Wash 
 ington as soon as possible; better send them down one at a 
 time, so Gridley can be fixing up our claims. And don t for 
 get that every scratch that goes to Gridley goes under Robin 
 son s name. This is important, and Gridley understands it; 
 I saw him in New York. 
 
 Keep Harris jollied along; better give him a few hun 
 dred out of that draft. Tell him he must not let a soul see 
 the machine; that he must not even whisper of its existence 
 to any one. And be sure that he keeps at work. I want to 
 get this business closed up before spring. Ask the Judge to 
 put you in touch with a fellow naved Snively, also a Jim 
 Gardner. We will use both of them in the next campaign. 
 
 Destroy this. H. Holdon. 
 
 "Destroy it? Well, I don t think." Price laughed 
 and shook his fist to the west. "Destroy it! I hope to 
 God they take you to Texas and keep you there a month. 
 I ll have enough letters in that length of time to cine ; 
 my hold upon you, my dear next mayor of Chicago, tint 
 I will." 
 
 400 
 
THE LETTER HE WANTED 4<DI 
 
 "Hasn t Mr. Holdon come yet?" Harris asked, in a 
 matter-of-fact way, as Price stood at the bench watching 
 him at work. 
 
 "No, and what s more, I don t expect to see him for 
 some time. He went through to Kansas City, but I had 
 a letter from him. He sent you two hundred dollars 
 and is anxious that we get the machine set up for a 
 test as soon as possible." Price laid a check for two 
 hundred dollars drawn on his bank on the bench. Harris 
 picked up the check, looked at the signature, then at 
 Price. 
 
 "What s the matter with it?" Price asked. 
 
 "Oh, I suppose it s good, but I thought you said 
 Holdon sent it." 
 
 "So he did, but as I had other bills to meet, he sent 
 a draft to cover the full amount and I am checking it 
 out." 
 
 Harris watched Price closely. "I d like to see that 
 letter," he was thinking, even while Price made his ex 
 planation. 
 
 "Have you made the drawings for the moulding 
 mechanism?" Price inquired, running over some draw 
 ings on the bench. "If you have, I ll take them to the 
 pattern shops. We want to make all the speed pos 
 sible." 
 
 "I haven t finished them." Charley s voice was hard 
 ly audible. "I ll get at them again to-night," he added. 
 
 "All right, Harris; be sure and have them ready in 
 the morning, I ll be out after them." He went over 
 and looked at the machine, growing piece by piece, then 
 left the shop. 
 
 As soon as he was gone, Charley threw down his 
 tools and ran to a window where he could see Price as 
 he went toward the car tracks. 
 
 "I wonder if I am a fool! Anyway, he lied to me 
 once, and why not again? My God! If they should 
 try to rob me now after all my labor; after firing my 
 hopes and lifting me out of hell into heaven. If they 
 do," he shook his clinched fists at Price as the latter 
 boarded a car. "If they do, by the eternals, I ll be the 
 last man they rob/ Back to the bench he went, mut 
 tering to himself: "I ll pretend that I couldn t finish 
 the drawing and see how Price takes it. If I have a 
 
4O2 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 single doubt left to-morrow, I ll take the work to some 
 other pattern maker." 
 
 The mechanic worked that day under a pressure that 
 promised a nervous breakdown in the near future. As 
 he labored, his suspicions of both Price and Holdon 
 grew and he determined to shadow Price and finally se 
 cure an interview with Holdon and get from him some 
 thing more substantial than Price s word before he com 
 pleted the machine. 
 
 For three days he held Price off with the statement 
 that he had been unable to finish his work on the draw 
 ings for the moulding device, and each day, as Price be 
 came more persistent in his efforts to get the drawings, 
 Harris became more fixed in his belief that there was 
 something more than a desire to see the early comple 
 tion of the machine, behind Price s evident anxiety. 
 
 "Let s see, this moulding mechanism and the for 
 mula for the moulding compound about finish the parts 
 our patent claims will cover, don t they Harris ?" Price 
 asked on the fourth morning when Harris had told him 
 the drawings were still unfinished. 
 
 "That s about all," Harris admitted and went on 
 with his work. 
 
 "Well, I wish you would hurry them along. We 
 want to put this machine to the test at the earliest pos 
 sible moment, and if it will do the work you claim for it, 
 we ought to have all our patent claims worked up and 
 be ready the day the machine proves a success, to fire 
 them into the patent office," Price insisted. 
 
 "The machine will do more than I claim for it," the 
 inventor spoke with conviction. "And, I ll get out the 
 drawings, never fear. I ll work day and night to get 
 the machine set up, but this side of the test, Mr. Price, 
 I ve got to have my interest, a one-half interest in all 
 patents, put down in black and white." 
 
 "I thought we had settled all that at the beginning." 
 A nasty scowl crawled up over the speaker s face, and 
 wiped out the smile he attempted to assume. 
 
 "We settled nothing but that I was to build the ma 
 chine, Holdon was to furnish the money and each of us 
 to have a half interest in the patents." Harris watched 
 even the quiver of Price s eyelids. 
 
THE LETTER HE WANTED 403 
 
 "That s what I meant by a settlement/ the other 
 answered. "Just that, and I know no reason why it 
 should not stand." 
 
 "There are to me several very substantial reasons why 
 I should insist upon something more. Besides," he 
 went on, "I have decided to do a certain thing and you 
 might as well know it now as later. I propose 
 to keep the rest of the drawings and the formula in my 
 own hands until I have Holdon s agreement in black and 
 white." 
 
 Price s face betrayed him, though he did his best to 
 hide the fear that had put its markings on him. 
 
 "I I don t understand you/ he stammered. 
 
 "Then, this will help you to understand. I want five 
 hundred dollars to cover cost of finishing the machine. 
 Then I ll go ahead. As soon as Holdon signs up, I ll 
 turn all the drawings and formula over to you and not 
 until then." 
 
 "This is an extraordinary demand, Mr. Harris." 
 Price tried to look indignant. "And, I must say, your 
 language is insulting to both Mr. Holdon and myself. 
 It implies a suspicion on your part that we are not not 
 acting in good faith." 
 
 "Take it that way, if you like," Harris answered, 
 hotly. "But I tell you for the last time, I want five hun 
 dred dollars to-day. If you don t want to go ahead on 
 that plan, I ll see a lawyer and find out what my rights 
 are." 
 
 Thoroughly alarmed at the mention of a lawyer being 
 brought into the case, Price capitulated. 
 
 "Harris," said he, "you are unreasonable, but to 
 show you that I am above resentment, even when you 
 insinuate that I am not dealing fairly with you, I will 
 give you my check for the five hundred and leave the 
 whole matter in your hands. Could anything be fairer 
 than that?" he demanded with a great show of outraged 
 innocence. 
 
 "That s fair, Mr. Price, and the sooner you bring Mr. 
 Holdon and me together, the better it will suit me." 
 
 That ended the interview. Price lost no time in 
 writing all the facts to Holdon, and in reply received the 
 following letter: 
 
404 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 Dear Price You must get those drawings and the formula, 
 and I don t want you to employ any one else. Do it yourself. 
 Go to him and take the enclosed letter; let him read it. He 
 will hustle the thing along. Tell him I want to know when 
 everything is ready and I will try to get back as soon as he 
 can show me the completed drawings. 
 
 As soon as Harris reports everything ready for my inspec 
 tion, get him out of the city. Martin knows where his folks 
 live. A telegram calling him home will do the business. You 
 know what to do as soon as he s gone. 
 
 Put everything in Robinson s hands, and tell him to push 
 the work. Be sure and put everything back just as you 
 found it before he gets back. Then go ahead as though noth 
 ing had happepned. Holdon. 
 
 Destroy this. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 PRICE IN THE ROLE OF A BURGLAR. 
 
 For six days and nights after the receipt of Holdon s 
 letter, insisting that the remaining drawings for the 
 Harris moulding machine be secured at the earliest mo 
 ment, Price had worked with Harris in the little shop 
 during the day, and had shadowed him evenings until 
 he discovered that the mechanic was working on his 
 drawings at home until late in the night. This fact es 
 tablished, he laid his plans for the robbery of the work 
 er, as soon as he was sure the work of drafting the last 
 piece of the machine had been finished. 
 
 On Monday morning, when Charley approached the 
 shop, he found Price standing shivering at the door. 
 
 "I m a little bit late this morning," he observed ; 
 had to make a slight change in one of my drawings; 
 the difficulty developed yesterday when I placed the low 
 er gearing in the machine." He turned the key in the 
 lock and both men entered, Harris exclaiming: 
 
 "I could well afford to work late last night, for I 
 finished the drawings and will take them to the pattern 
 maker to-morrow." 
 
 "I m glad to hear that, Harris ; it s the best news I ve 
 heard in a long time. How long will it take to finish the 
 machine ?" 
 
 "Why, if I can get the heavier machine work at th<j 
 time promised, we ought to have the machine ready for 
 a test run inside of three weeks." 
 
 "Just what Robinson said about his machine." Price 
 was thinking ; aloud he said : "That s better than ever. 
 Holdon ought to be here in two weeks, then we can 
 have your black on white scruples satisfied, and get 
 down to business." This open, free-handed talk of meet 
 ing his demands for a settlement between Holdon and 
 himself thoroughly disarmed Charley and made him 
 ashamed of his earlier suspicions. And to make amends 
 
 405 
 
406 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 he opened his heart to Price, telling him of the success 
 ful tests his moulding compound had stood and that he 
 had measured and weighed out enough of the several 
 ingredients to make the moulds for their trial run. Well 
 satisfied, the mechanic went about his work, while Price 
 poured forth his admiration of this or that ingenious de 
 vice about the machine. 
 
 It was in the neighborhood of ten o clock when Price, 
 preparing to go back to the city, said: "I m going to 
 write Holdon to-day, and I know he will be more than 
 pleased with the progress you have made. By the way, 
 suppose I come out to your place to-night and talk over 
 the business end of the deal. If we get together on it 
 before Holdon comes, it won t take so long to settle mat 
 ters then." 
 
 "Why, I don t know but that would be a good plan." 
 
 "All right, I ll be out to the house about eight 
 o clock," Price replied; but, as he went toward the car 
 tracks he said to himself: "I won t get there quite so 
 early, but when I do arrive, it s dollars to doughnuts he 
 won t be there." 
 
 "Martin certainly did good work on the Harris case," 
 he observed, as he reached his apartments. "If Harris 
 knows any more about his family or his wife s people 
 than I do, he s welcome to it." 
 
 Seated at a table with a telegraph blank before him, 
 he pondered: 
 
 "Wonder which would draw him the quickest, a wire 
 from home or from his wife ; whichever it is, I ve got to 
 make it so urgent that he won t wait to take those draw 
 ings to the pattern maker. If he did, the whole game 
 would have to be recast. Well, here goes a quarter, 
 heads it s mother ; tails, the wife." 
 
 The coin flipped toward the ceiling, fell whirling 
 over and over. 
 
 "Tails, by George ! Just what I wanted." 
 
 About thirty minutes later a man wearing a slouched 
 hat, soiled negligee shirt, clothes to match and a faded 
 brown overcoat, stood at the corner of Randolph and 
 Dearborn with an envelope in his hand. The winter 
 winds whistling down the throat-like streets caused him 
 to bend over and shield his face from the icy blast. 
 
PRICE IN THE ROLE OF A BURGLAR 407 
 
 "Damned funny where all the messenger boys are/ 
 he muttered, after standing for some time in the cold. 
 
 A hot chestnut vender opened up for business a few 
 feet from where he stood, and after buying a bag of nuts 
 the man in the faded brown overcoat asked : 
 
 "Know where a man could find a messenger this time 
 of day, stranger?" 
 
 "Sure ting, frein you want to pay how much?" 
 
 "Why, a dollar if I can have the message delivered 
 
 once." 
 
 "You watch the stand; I ll git a boy"; the vender 
 was gone. He had returned in five minutes with a lad 
 of about fourteen. 
 
 "It s my boy," he exclaimed. "You give him the let 
 ter; I take the dollar." 
 
 "And here s ten cents besides; I sold some nuts." 
 Price grinned, and after giving the boy explicit instruc 
 tions, returned to his rooms. 
 
 "There s only one chance of a hitch, and that s re 
 mote, for I don t think he ll ever dream of it being a 
 phony message he hasn t had enough business with 
 the wires to know what trimmings go with the delivery 
 of a genuine message." 
 
 Charley was getting Beady to go out to lunch when 
 the message was delivered. He stood with the unopened 
 envelope in his hand long after the boy had left the lit 
 tle shop, and for the life of him he could not have sworn 
 as to whether the boy wore uniform or not. 
 
 The type-written message was short: 
 
 D , Jan. 10, 19 . 
 
 Your wife is dying; come on first train. 
 
 Holcomb. 
 
 The message was addressed to his place of residence, 
 and the first clear thought he had aside from the message 
 was that some one had directed the boy to the shop 
 when he could not deliver the message at the house. 
 
 Gone from Charley Harris thoughts completely as 
 though they never had existence, were all the loose ends 
 of his work. Everything else save the thought that 
 Mary had called to him was lost out of mind, and two 
 hours later he was on his way to the Grand Central sta 
 tion, where he waited an hour; one of those hours that 
 stretch across a lifetime and reach out beyond. 
 
408 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 That night a figure wrapped in a faded brown over 
 coat and wearing a cap pulled down over face and ears, 
 left the building where Price had apartments, left by the 
 back way and later entered with a roll of papers and 
 bulging pockets. 
 
 "There, by the gods, I m glad that s done. My, that 
 was a beastly job, but I ve got the goods, compound 
 and all." 
 
 The speaker threw the roll of papers on the table and 
 emptied his pockets, tried the door, removed his shabby 
 clothing and consigned them to the top shelf in a closet. 
 Ensconced in smoking jacket and comfortable in slip 
 pers, he pulled a chair to the table, and after lighting a 
 
 cigar, began the examination of the papers. 
 
 * * * * * # 
 
 "For the Lord o mercy, if it ain t Charley !" 
 
 The speaker, Jed Holcomb, was standing with his 
 body blocking the doorway. Open-mouthed, disconcert 
 ed, he gazed at the man, who but a moment before had 
 knocked upon the front door. 
 
 "Well, father, she isn t she isn t dead ?" Charley be 
 gan. 
 
 "Who isn t dead?" Jed asked in a shaking voice, as 
 he stepped out on the porch and closed the door behind 
 him. 
 
 "Why, Mary. I got your message. You " 
 
 "My message, Charley, why, I ain t sent you no mes 
 sage an Charley, don t tell mother I sent you word to 
 come; she d think they d both think, I sent it so as 
 you d come an break off th business " 
 
 "You didn t send a message, you say?" The young 
 man spoke slowly while Jed nodded vigorously. "And 
 Mary is not sick? * he went on, then asked: "What 
 does it mean? Let s go in and talk it over." 
 
 The old man laid a hand upon his son-in-law s arm 
 and said : "I hate like pizen to tell you boy, but mother 
 is a gitten a divorce fer Mary to-day, and a young gos- 
 lin of a preacher will be a-courtin her open an above- 
 board to-morrer. I don t like it, but they ain t no use to 
 holier, and you see it wouldn t do fer me t have you in 
 th house when they come back." He looked furtively 
 up and down the street. "They may be comin back any 
 minute now." 
 
PRICE IN THE ROLE OF A BURGLAR 4OQ 
 
 Stunned, bewildered, and at a loss to account for his 
 inability to even answer the stooped figure before him, 
 the young man stood shuffling his feet and frowning at 
 the door. "What could he do ? What did it all mean ?" 
 
 "They are comin Charley; please don t stay." 
 
 Jed s eyes were on the stretch of street to the south 
 and Charley turned in that direction. 
 
 "Yes, the larger figure was Martha, and the other 
 in spite of all he had suffered, a strange heart hunger 
 possessed him. 
 
 "If they see you an think I sent for you, they won t 
 be no livin with either of them, t say nothin of 
 both " 
 
 The pleading eyes of the older man brought Charley 
 to his senses. 
 
 "You are right, father; you are right," and as he 
 took the old man s hand, he added: "I m glad I came 
 father, glad to have a sight of you, remember that. I ll 
 go out the alley way," he added, and with a last good- 
 by swung down the steps and traveled the familiar 
 path to the little barn, then down the alley to a side 
 street. 
 
 "What can it mean? Did some one here who knew 
 about the divorce proceedings wire me, in order to make 
 more trouble for all of us? That must be it," Harris 
 told himself as he hurried to a hotel. "And it proves 
 that mother was right when she said half the trouble in 
 the world was caused by people who were afraid there 
 would be less of it to-morrow than there was yesterday, 
 and in order to keep up the average and give God some 
 thing to forget and the devil one more soul to remember, 
 work overtime at trouble brewing." 
 
 At the hotel he asked when he could get a train for 
 Chicago. 
 
 "The bus has gone, but if you hurry you can make 
 it," the clerk replied, and the guest hurried out into the 
 night. 
 
 Martin had not discovered that Harris and his wife 
 had parted. All he knew was that she was with her 
 folks. And Price had calculated that even after Harris 
 discovered the message to be a fake, he would hardly 
 return to the city within a couple of days, and that 
 would be ample time in which to get prints of all the 
 
410 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 drawings as well as an analysis of the compound. But 
 Harris, as we have seen, spent but little time at the 
 home of the Holcombs and was on his way back, while 
 Price was skulking down side streets with his loot. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 HOLDON RETURNS. 
 
 The first man the Honorable Horace Holdon met 
 upon his return from Kansas City was none other than 
 ex-Superintendent Price. 
 
 "Get my wire?" he asked cheerily, when Price met 
 him at the Eagle. 
 
 "Yes, and I ve got other things." 
 
 "Not the Harris plans?" 
 
 "Yes, everything," Price affirmed. "And it was like 
 taking candy from a baby. But between you and I it 
 won t be a baby we ll have to handle if he ever gets next 
 to the deal. He got back before I could return the 
 swag. He s dangerous." 
 
 The magnate laughed softly. 
 
 "Think he s dangerous, do you? Well, if he wants 
 revenge, he ll have to take it out of either you or Robin 
 son; I want the machine, and if some one besides Har 
 ris can show me a machine that will do the work say," 
 he turned suddenly and shot a quick look at Price. "You 
 are sending all the drawings and claims to Washington 
 in Robinson s name, are you?" 
 
 "Sure thing, and I have his bill of sale for the ma 
 chine ; this is it." He extracted an envelope from a num 
 ber he had taken from his pocket, and as he handed it 
 to Holdon, remarked : "The model maker will have his 
 work finished within two weeks." 
 
 "That s good," Holdon mumbled, as he read the 
 document Price had handed him. When he had finished 
 reading he looked up. "I see you have taken care of 
 your own interests in this conveyance." The tone was 
 not pleasant, and Price flushed. 
 
 "Well er yes," he stammered. "I have taken all 
 the risks, and I don t think a half interest in the machine 
 is any too much." 
 
 411 
 
412 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "Well, I think it is too much, and I would strongly 
 advise that you do a bit more thinking along that line, 
 and when you get it thought out, 1 shall expect an as 
 signment of the interest this document gives you." 
 
 "But," Price began, when Holdon, with a wave of 
 his hand, declared: 
 
 "There are no buts in this case, Price, and I thought 
 you understood it. I gave you instructions and the 
 money to carry them out. I told you I wanted that ma 
 chine. I never intimated that I wanted to enter into 
 a business partnership with you, did I?" 
 
 "No, but " 
 
 "There it goes again; I tell you there are no buts 
 in the case. For a certain sum per month you agreed to 
 handle this matter, did you not?" 
 
 "Y-e-s," the answer was long in coming, though 
 short in itself. 
 
 "Was there anything said about you having a half 
 interest or any other interest in the machine?" 
 
 Holdon waited for some time for the "No," Price 
 reluctantly uttered. 
 
 "I am glad, Price, deuced glad, your memory is bet 
 ter to-night than it was when you had that assignment 
 drawn up," Holdon observed, laughingly, and after giv 
 ing his agent instructions for the morrow, excused him 
 self and went home. 
 
 When Price reached his apartments he was in any 
 thing but a pleasant frame of mind. 
 
 "The old hog wants the middle of the trough, does 
 he ? And after me running the risk of a trip to the pen. 
 Well, my dear, good, ambitious boss, I haven t forgotten 
 that I have a couple of letters of yours marked "Destroy 
 this safely tucked away, and before I assign the half 
 interest in Harris patents, I rather guess I ll mention the 
 fact that I forgot to destroy them and see then if there 
 are no huts in the case." 
 
 He had his feet on the table, a cigar between his 
 teeth, and was planning the last battle of his campaign. 
 
 "Gad, I wonder if his hair won t curl some when he 
 finds out how much T took out of the Holdon Company. 
 Hope he don t study his bank balance too close before 
 we get this Harris business finished up." 
 
HOLDON RETURNS 4 ! 3 
 
 A vigorous knocking on the outer door brought 
 Price to his feet. 
 
 "Now, who " 
 
 The knocks being repeated even more vigorously, he 
 called out, "Come in," and Charley Harris entered. 
 
 As their eyes met, Price put a trembling hand on 
 the table, and tried to utter a welcome, but the face of 
 his visitor, the aggressiveness, determination, desperate- 
 ness of the whole man unnerved him. He had told 
 Holdon they would not have a baby to deal with should 
 this man ever "get next." 
 
 "God, Price, I didn t know you were taking it so 
 hard, too," Charley burst out, throwing himself into a 
 chair. 
 
 Price had his cue. With a sigh of relief, he, too, sat 
 down, and the visitor, looking at his host, noted a pallor 
 and nervousness he had never before observed about the 
 man. 
 
 "Take it hard," Price began in a low voice. "Why 
 should I not take it hard? Think of the money I ve 
 spent, besides Holdon s back and don t seem to take 
 much stock in the story you tell. He insists upon hav 
 ing the machine and says he will have it if he has to 
 
 buy it from " 
 
 "The thief," Harris finished. 
 "Yes, the thief," the other agreed. 
 "But, see here, Price, whoever stole those drawings 
 and that compound, can t finish the machine unless he 
 has the drawings and specifications belonging to that 
 part of the work I had already finished." 
 
 He brought his fist down on the table with a thump. 
 "And what I came up here for to-night was to find out 
 if you ever allowed any one to take copies of the draw 
 ings you took to the pattern maker?"- Looking straight 
 at Price, he demanded an answer. 
 
 "How absurd," that gentleman declared, and con 
 veniently dropped a match, stooped to recover it, and 
 while relighting his cigar, gained the time necessary to 
 shape his answer. "Absurd, Harris, utterly absurd! 
 I ve been in business too long to do such a fool thing 
 as you surmise." 
 
 "Well, will you tell me what could have possessed a 
 thief to take those drawings of mine, and that heavy 
 
414 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 compound and leave money lying in the drawers he 
 rummaged through? Tell me that; tell me what use he 
 could possibly make of them, unless he had the rest of 
 them? I tell you there s been a leak and it wasn t at 
 my end. The old pattern maker says not a soul but 
 you ever saw the drawings, the last man says you visited 
 him often and as I had told him you were in the deal 
 with me, he never thought to keep the work away from 
 you." 
 
 Harris paused, but Price did not take his eyes from 
 the ceiling, as he said: 
 
 "I surely told you I visited the last pattern maker; 
 you see, I couldn t always take time to run clear out to 
 the shop, and I was as anxious as you to see the thing 
 completed before before Mr. Holdon s return." 
 
 "And you never made duplicates of my drawings or 
 gave a description of the machine to any one other than 
 Mr. Holdon?" 
 
 The question came in a low voice, but it carried 
 something of menace in its timbre. 
 
 "Never!" Price almost shouted, turning squarely to 
 ward his visitor and reassuring him. His shaking nerves 
 told that he did not miss the measure of. the man he had 
 robbed. 
 
 "That s all, Price." 
 
 Harris got to his feet, pulled his hat down over his 
 eyes and strode to the door. There he hesitated, turned, 
 and facing his host, said: 
 
 "The man who stole those drawings has stolen the 
 rest of the machine, and, so help me God, I will kill him 
 I would kill him if I knew that there was a red-hot 
 hell waiting for me." 
 
 The visitor was gone, but Price did not retire until 
 he had considered every possible chance he could con 
 jure up whereby the mechanic who had had a vision, 
 might discover the truth. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 MICKEY MEETS AN OLD FRIEND. 
 
 Charley Harris determined while on the way home 
 after his talk with Price to see Holdon the next morn 
 ing, and accordingly went to the foundry early. 
 
 When lie inquired for Mr. Holdon, a clerk informed 
 him that Holdon was no longer connected with the es 
 tablishment in an official capacity, and the disappointed 
 mechanic was loitering about on the street in front of 
 the plant, hardly knowing what next to do, when he saw 
 Mickey Dougherty scuttling into an alley on a side street 
 as though he were trying to avoid some one. 
 
 Without a thought, other than that he owed the 
 cripple an apology for his unceremonious leave-taking 
 some months before, Charley ran down the side street 
 and fairly ran into Mickey at the mouth of the alley. 
 
 "Well, of all things !" he exclaimed. "How are you, 
 Mickey?" 
 
 "Did he see youse, too?" the other questioned, hold 
 ing out his hand. 
 
 "Who see me?" Harris asked, as their hands clasped. 
 
 "Why, his nibs, deboss!" 
 
 "No, I guess not was it Mr. Holdon you meant? 
 If it was I assure you I want to see him and I will 
 was it Mr. Holdon?" 
 
 "Yep, Mr. Holdon." 
 
 "Where did you see him?" 
 
 "Why, as I was a-makin a sneak back of de works, 
 trying t see some one I knows, he comes along on de 
 street an stops. I turns from a lookin tru de fence an 
 it s him; so I hits de high places only, till I gits most 
 down dis alley." 
 
 "But why in the world would you run; are you 
 working? What have you been doing since I left?" 
 
 "Say, Charley," Mickey looked up soberly. "Them 
 is long questions an I ain t got answers fer all of them, 
 
 415 
 
MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 cept this: I was makin my git-away cause I don t 
 want t meet Old Holdon. I ain t bin in th works fer 
 a thousand years, an what I bin doin since I seed youse 
 last I d give I d give anything t be able t fergit an 
 that s all I kin tell yer, Charley all I kin tell any 
 body." 
 
 Charley stood looking at the forlorn little figure be 
 fore him. The months that had passed since they part 
 ed had stamped old age on the face of Mickey Dough 
 erty, and the man standing more than head and shoul 
 ders above him for the time forgot his troubles as he 
 pictured the hard luck Mickey must have experienced to 
 so change him. 
 
 "Mickey," he put a hand upon his companion s 
 shoulder. "I ve got a few dollars and a place to eat and 
 sleep; won t you share them with me?" 
 
 "Me? Wy, I don t need no money; what I need is 
 frien s frien s some one t help me. I m I m des 
 perate, an I don t no more know what t do n a rabbit." 
 
 The Irishman lifted his blue eyes to Charley s face, 
 and Charley saw not only the quivering lips, but great 
 salty tears welling up and out of those appealing eyes. 
 He could appreciate the gravity of a situation which 
 would force tears from the eyes of Mickey Dougherty, 
 and his heart went out to his old-time chum. 
 
 "Mickey, we all run into hard lines in this world, 
 and I feel that mine are about as hard as man was ever 
 called upon to endure. So let s halve our troubles by 
 taking up our old friendship, and I promise you I will 
 not run away again without a good-by." 
 
 "All right, Charley, an I ll go out home with youse; 
 might jist as well live with youse as anybody better, I 
 guess but, I ain t a-promisin t spill my troubles, not 
 even if youse asks me." 
 
 So it happened that Mickey got scent of a new trail 
 that night when Charley told him of the robbery, and 
 of his visit to Price, and that gentleman s avowal that 
 he was not responsible for any "leak" that might have 
 led up to the robbery. 
 
 Mickey s memory of a conversation they had had 
 when Charley first told him that Price had invented a 
 moulding machine and wanted him to build it, together 
 with the suspicion aroused when he overheard Price 
 
MICKEY MEETS AN OLD FRIEND 417 
 
 and Moran that morning, came back to him, and he de 
 termined to shadow Price until either he or Harris had 
 found a clue to the thief. 
 
 This new occupation was a relief to him, inasmuch 
 as it lifted his mind above the rut in which his troubles 
 had confined it. 
 
 Two days later Charley found him at the house when 
 he returned home from an interview with Holdon. 
 
 "Say, Charley, you know I worked in the foundry, 
 an ought t know when I sees a machine t do that 
 sort ov work, hadn t I?" was Mickey s welcome as 
 Charley entered the room. 
 
 "Sure thing why, I ll bet you d know what my 
 machine was for the minute you put your eyes on it." 
 
 "Well, suppose youse opens up a little, an , startin 
 at the ground, tells me what your machine looks like; 
 how it is run: where youse pours in th iron; how th 
 castings is made, an what sort of a contraption it is on 
 top. Tell me all about it, so as I kin jist see it in front 
 of my eyes." 
 
 "Why, that s easy, Mickey, even if they did steal all 
 my drawings, I can see the machine. It s like this: It 
 sets on the floor on a base shaped like this." He drew 
 a sheet of paper to him and quickly drew an outline. 
 Mickey followed every movement of the pencil and 
 never uttered a word until the whole machine had been 
 described, and the more important parts outlined; then 
 he straightened up. 
 
 "Charley, ef youse l promise not to do nothin rash, 
 not to try t make me tell youse nothin till I m ready, 
 I ll tell youse somethin ." 
 
 "Promise! Promise! Why, of course, I ll promise; 
 fire away." 
 
 "Then it s this; I seen yer machine." 
 
 "Were you out at the shop?" Charley interrupted. 
 
 "No, not to th one youse mean; but I was t a 
 shop." 
 
 "And saw oh, pshaw, you re joking." 
 
 "Not on yer life; I hain t jokin ; I tell youse I seen 
 yer machine. It s changed some, but it s made to do th 
 same work." 
 
 "Where did you see it?" 
 
 "There you goes. I knowed youse would, but youse 
 
4l8 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 gived a promise an I m a-goin t hold yer t it; I ain t 
 ready t tell nothin else. When I am, youse l know 
 who stold yer machine an I ll have another som thin 
 often my mind." 
 
 By every means short of force, Harris tried to worm 
 from the cripple at least a part of the story he knew lay 
 behind his sturdy assertion, that he had visited a shop 
 and had seen the Harris Automatic Moulder. 
 
 Finally Mickey looked at the clock, saying: "I got 
 t be hittin it, Charley." 
 
 "Why, what on earth ! It s bed time and we haven t 
 had supper. You aren t going out this time of night. 
 Wait, I ll get something to eat." 
 
 Mickey, declaring he had to go and that he couldn t 
 wait for anything to eat, left the house, leaving a much 
 perplexed mechanic to mull over some much mixed and 
 perplexing probabilities. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 LOST A SON. 
 
 How many thousand homes, how many, many moth 
 ers hearts might well carry these three words : "Lost a 
 son!" or even these: "Lost a daughter!" branded with 
 the ever hot iron of memory where the world might read. 
 
 As you and I have become acquainted with Joel Hoi- 
 don know his willful, bestial crimes, I doubt if one of 
 us could force a tear to fall in tribute to his memory. 
 We know, but his father and sister do not know. And 
 supposing they did know, is it not within reason that they 
 would charge the son s crime to the woman s passion and 
 move heaven and earth to reach the one responsible for 
 his death ? Is this not the way in which we square away 
 the sins of our own flesh? 
 
 "It s no use, Bee. The agency Price put on the case, 
 and the detectives White hired, as well as those I en 
 gaged because they thought they had a clew, have all 
 come to the same conclusion Joel was killed somewhere 
 between Kansas City and a point west of Dallas, Texas, 
 killed for the money and jewelry he carried." The fath 
 er paused and stroked the girl s head, as it lay upon his 
 shoulder. 
 
 "Did they, did they do everything, everything money 
 could do?" she asked between sobs. 
 
 "Everything, sweetheart, everything. I wouldn t be 
 here to-night if they hadn t. We thought we had a strong 
 clew in Dallas, but while the experts declare a signature 
 on a hotel register there was written by Joel, we were 
 unable to find the slightest trace of him, or, for that 
 matter, of the Mr. Smith who registered that night. 
 Aside from a couple of loungers and guest there was no 
 one but the clerk in the office. A week later the clerk 
 went to El Paso; we brought him back because the men 
 who were in the office swore this Mr. Smith wore clothes 
 such as Joel had on when last seen in Kansas City, and 
 
 419 
 
42O MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 carried a suit-case. The suit-case was missing, though 
 the men swore Mr. Smith did not take it with him when 
 he went out to some address" to which he had inquired 
 the way. Of course the detectives suspected the clerk 
 of having taken the suit-case, but he established his in 
 nocence. He remembered where this Mr. Smith went, or 
 at least where he directed him to go. The detectives dis 
 covered that a Southern woman,named Estella something, 
 a baby, a colored servant and a crippled fellow lived at 
 the address the clerk had given. By the time we had gotten 
 there, or a little before, they had left the city ; she to join 
 her husband in St. Louis, then go South. We followed 
 every clew ; I went out to the house, but I never believed 
 Joel had been there. He couldn t have known the 
 woman, and if he had he wouldn t have stopped there 
 on his way to be married." 
 
 "Wasn t it strange he never told us he was engaged ?" 
 Beatrice whispered. 
 
 "Yes, it was strange, but, sweetheart, men do strange 
 things." 
 
 Silence fell over the grand setting supplied for this 
 recounting of a life tragedy, while the father thought 
 how little he had known his only son, as he reviewed the 
 side lights upon his life, this quest for him had revealed. 
 And the sister silently prayed that her wayward brother 
 might be restored to her, promising in her heart to for 
 give and forget all that had passed, if he but returned to 
 them. 
 
 "I have done everything; will continue to do every 
 thing so long as the agencies will take my money ; but, I 
 have lost hope. The detective now in the South has run 
 a dozen clews to earth and is asking to be relieved. I 
 have put another man on the back track, to find out to 
 find out if there was any relationship, any circumstance 
 that might, if discovered, give us a fresh hold; but so 
 far, there are no developments." 
 
 "Did he take much money with him ?" Beatrice asked 
 at this point. 
 
 "Yes, all he could rake and scrape together; besides, 
 he bought about four thousand dollars worth of dia 
 monds and such stuff." 
 
 "Four thousand !" the girl exclaimed. 
 
LOST A SON 421 
 
 "Yes, a present to his bride-to-be. I will pay for 
 them to-morrow. Besides, he borrowed money, and but, 
 I shouldn t be telling you this." Holdon bent and kissed 
 his daughter. "The boy is known to have exhibited his 
 money and talked of the jewels he was taking with him, 
 and it is the opinion of the police that the plot to do 
 away with him was hatched here, and that he was lured 
 to his death by some one he believed to be a friend." 
 
 Beatrice sat up and with her hands locked behind her 
 father s neck, looked into his tear-dimmed eyes. 
 
 "Oh, daddy, he was a foolish boy. I know how you 
 have longed for years for him to settle down ; but, daddy, 
 if he d only come home, only come home!" 
 
 "Yes, if he d only come home," the father repeated, 
 and added, "I could forgive everything; but, he won t 
 come, Bee, so you and I will just have to make the best 
 of it, and forget that we ever hoped to see Joel a sub 
 stantial, steady-going business man. We will have to 
 learn to forget, Bee, forget." 
 
 "And forgetting is doubly hard when we do not know 
 what it is we must forget, doubly hard," the girl ob 
 served as Holdon got up and announced that he had to 
 meet an engagement downtown. 
 
 The engagement the Hon. Horace Holdon had to 
 meet, was with Mr. Abner, the new president of the 
 Founders Trust. They had been discussing business in 
 a general way for about fifteen minutes, when Mr. Abner 
 turning his little head with a jerk, blinked savagely, and 
 observed: "Your superintendent, that man Price, left 
 things in a nice mess here." 
 
 "What do you mean ?" Holdon scowled. He had never 
 loved Abner, and although he had given up his hold on 
 the plant and the remunerative office of president to sat 
 isfy a widening ambition, he still felt jealous of Abner, 
 and did not relish that little man s tart comment on cer 
 tain conditions he had found upon taking charge of the 
 plant. 
 
 "Oh, I know you will champion him, Mr. Holdon. 
 When I think so much of a man that I hand him a check 
 and tell him to fill it in," Abner began banteringly, when 
 his visitor interrupted hotly: "A matter of business, 
 
422 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 my dear sir, a matter of business, if you refer to the 
 check I gave Mr. Price when you took charge." 
 
 "Exactly, exactly," Abner chuckled and rubbed his 
 hands. "And do you know, I ve often wondered if you 
 yet know the figure that check was drawn for?" Another 
 soft chuckle and an added question: "Do you?" 
 
 "No, I don t, having been out of the city practically 
 ever since I handed it to him." He paused. "If it will 
 relieve your mind any, suppose you tell me the figure." 
 Holdon leaned back smiling at the neat turn he had 
 given his last speech. 
 
 "With all the pleasure in the world." Taking the 
 auditor s report from a drawer, he ran his eyes over it 
 hurriedly and looking up, said : 
 
 "The auditor found him thirty thousand short." 
 
 "Thirty thousand devils!" Holdon was out of his 
 chair and had snatched up the report. 
 
 Mr. Abner paused but a moment and went on. 
 
 "And of course the check you so. kindly signed for 
 him was drawn to cover that amount." 
 
 Holdon had mastered all outward show of anger 
 when he finally handed the report to Abner. He re 
 marked calmly: "Come to think of it; that would be 
 about the figure after he had drawn for the deals I had 
 entrusted to him. Of course, at first blush, I was startled. 
 To accuse a man of being short thirty thousand without 
 the proof to back your assertion is just a bit lurid, you 
 know, and it caught me." 
 
 "Well, I m glad it s all right, for, to be frank with 
 you, while it would seem that I was mistaken in this 
 matter, I can assure you, I have not changed my mind 
 about the man he s " 
 
 "He s earned your ill will because he refused to let 
 you have your own way here before he was satisfied that 
 my interests were being fully protected," Holdon said 
 aloud, but inwardly he was boiling. 
 
 "Have it that way, if you please, my dear friend, and 
 let us hope you need never change your mind," Abner 
 answered calmly, and other visitors -being announced, 
 Holdon took his departure. 
 
 He had a second appointment to meet, and went to 
 it in anything but a good humor. This time, he was to 
 
LOST A SON 423 
 
 meet the man who had been robbed. Going direct from 
 the office of Mr. Abner to his suite of rooms over 
 "Shifty" Smith s, he did not have long to wait before 
 Harris was heard knocking upon the door that connected 
 the suite with the vacant room in the adjoining building, 
 through which Price had taught him to seek entrance. 
 Holdon was not expecting a visitor from that direction 
 by daylight, and for a moment, hesitated to throw the 
 bolt. The knock being repeated, he shot back the bolt, 
 and Charley Harris, hat in hand, stepped in. The mag 
 nate was so surprised that he did not question the visitor 
 as to how he had obtained knowledge of the secret en 
 trance. On the contrary, without a word, he led the 
 way into the room where Charley had seen him once 
 before, standing by the table, while Price insisted that 
 he was out of the city. 
 
 "Well !" When seated, Holdon uttered this one word. 
 
 "I ve been robbed," Harris answered. 
 
 "It s the common lot of men," the host observed with 
 a sneer. "You don t need to feel bad about it, we all 
 get touched occasionally, you know." 
 
 "But, some one has stolen my machine and " 
 
 "And, see here; I ve a mind to throw you through 
 the window." Holdon had let all holds go. "You and 
 your machine ! Did you ever have a machine ? I don t 
 believe a word of it. You and Price, between you, have 
 been bilking me out of good money for a year on the 
 strength of a machine I never saw. I tell you, young 
 man, you ve played your last card; and you wouldn t 
 6e here now with your tale of robbery if you knew " 
 
 "I protest, Mr. Holdon, I do know that you are un 
 just. Let me explain." 
 
 Harris was on his feet. 
 
 "You want to protest, do you ? Find Price ; then the 
 two of you come up here together, and I ll listen to your 
 protest." 
 
 "But, Price is as much in the dark about " 
 
 "Get out of my sight !" Holdon thundered at Charley s 
 intimation that Price was innocent of something unstated, 
 but innocent. "Get out, you young thief you robbed, 
 indeed !" 
 
 "Don t you call me a thief ; I might forget your age," 
 Charley broke in in a choked voice. 
 
MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "Then go ; how many times must I tell you ?" 
 
 On the street, Harris started toward Clark street, 
 
 when a figure darted out of a doorway. A hand was 
 
 laid upon his arm and he heard : 
 
 "Don t go that way ; youse don t want t be seen by a 
 
 party I m layin fer go back home. I m a-comin out 
 
 purty soon an I ve got a piece ov news fer youse." 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE PROSPECTIVE CANDIDATE AT A CONFERENCE. 
 
 Judge Terwill, actuated solely by a patriotic desire to 
 serve his city(?), had called a conference in Fat Fred s 
 suite at the Eagle for the afternoon of the day follow 
 ing Holdon s discovery of Price s duplicity and his sum 
 mary disposal of Harris. 
 
 It is quite probable had the judge known the status 
 of affairs between Price and his master, Price would 
 have been left out, and Price, who had been working 
 like a beaver with pattern maker, machine builder and 
 model maker, had a grist of good news for his employer 
 and thought there would be an excellent opportunity at 
 the conference to lay these matters before him. Judge 
 Terwill, having transacted all business relative to Hoi- 
 don and the spring campaign through Price, naturally 
 concluded that he was to be Holdon s right-hand man, 
 suds dispenser, small change passer and molly-coddle 
 buffer-in-general, therefore the invitation. 
 
 Price arrived ahead of his employer. When the lat 
 ter came in, and after greeting the others present sat 
 down as far away from Price as possible and without a 
 word to him, that gentleman got up, went over to the 
 magnate and whispered: "I ve got a lot of things to 
 tell youcould you " he got no farther. 
 
 Tapping the arms of his chair to keep his hands off 
 the man who began to go white under his withering 
 look, Holdon hissed: "Yes, you have a lot to tell me, 
 and you ll come when I send for you; don t forg-et 
 that." 
 
 Price backed away and resumed his seat as Fat Fred 
 called upon the judge to state the reason for calling the 
 conference. 
 
 The judge, carefully measuring his utterances, as 
 sured his hearers that he felt honored, etc., and was fol- 
 
 425 
 
426 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 lowing this introduction with a plain statement of facts, 
 when an interruption came. 
 
 "Do I understand that whatever may be said here 
 to-day is to be considered confidential?" Holdon de 
 manded without prefacing his speech in any manner. 
 
 "Most assuredly," the judge beamed. "We have 
 abundant reason to be careful." 
 
 "Then I shall have to request the withdrawal of that 
 man," Holdon pointed at Price. 
 
 "Well, well, well; but, I understood," the judge be 
 gan, while the other gentlemen, uncomfortable and em 
 barrassed, shot furtive glances at the principals in the 
 action, but kept silent. 
 
 That man," Holdon insisted, "must withdraw, or I 
 will have no part in your " 
 
 "I demand an explanation," Price spluttered, but his 
 face told those who observed him that he lied. 
 
 "Mr. Price ! Mr. Holdon ! Gentlemen," it was the 
 suave-voiced judge, "let us understand just one thing. 
 Is or is not Mr. Price to have an interest in the er 
 matters we are met to discuss?" 
 
 "Never!" Holdon bellowed. 
 
 "That being the case, gentlemen, I must bear the 
 blame. Without consulting Mr. Holdon, I invited Mr. 
 Price to this conference. But, of course, Mr. Price can 
 have no desire to remain." 
 
 "None whatever," Price mumbled, and left the room. 
 
 With the atmosphere cleared and the remaining vis 
 itors vouched for by the judge, the conference pro 
 gressed smoothly; a new state machine was organized 
 and plans laid for capturing the party machinery in the 
 city before the spring campaign opened. Through it 
 all the nicely modulated voice of the judge purred on, 
 calming the boisterous, satisfying the skeptical, encour 
 aging the faint-hearted. When the gentlemen had fin 
 ished their labors, it was understood that the Hon. Hor 
 ace Holdon was to stand as the business man s candi 
 date for mayor. Judge Terwill assumed charge of the 
 press agency, Gardner took the saloons and gamblers, 
 and the handling of the preachers and temperance peo 
 ple was left open. The judge opined he had the very 
 man to spread the salve in that direction. Well satisfied 
 
THE PROSPECTIVE CANDIDATE AT A CONFERENCE 427 
 
 v/ith each other and joying in the savory smell of the 
 flesh pots but a little way beyond, the conference broke 
 up. 
 
 Before leaving- the club, Holdon had Price s apart 
 ments called up, and on being told Price was there, he 
 gruffly ordered the boy to hold the phone. For fully 
 five minutes he stood before the instrument with clinch 
 ed fists and purple face before he could master his anger 
 enough to trust his voice. Then, taking down the re 
 ceiver, he asked that Price be called to the phone. 
 
 "That you Price? What s that? Don t talk that 
 way to me, sir. I I why what s that? Yes, I ll be 
 there, nine o clock to-night, and mind, there s to be no 
 trying to dodge the issue. You either make good or by 
 I ll put you where " 
 
 "What s that? Oh, you will?" 
 
 The receiver went to the hook with a bang, and the 
 magnate hurried from the club. 
 
 It was nearing nine o clock that night, when two 
 persons started downtown from the building in which 
 Price had his apartments. One had left the building 
 through the front exit, the other had sneaked out of the 
 shadowy court as the first left the lighted portal. Down 
 through the thoroughfares they went, seemingly in 
 separable as substance and shadow. At the entrance to 
 the building adjoining "Shifty" Smith s, the shadow 
 paused an instant, then darted in after the substance. 
 
 Three hours later Mickey entered Charley Harris 
 home and stood looking at the mechanic, who all the 
 evening had sat brooding over his troubles. The cripple 
 looked at him so long without speaking that Charley be 
 gan to wonder if the little Irishman had lost his wits. 
 
 "Well, Mickey, have you lost your voice?" Charley 
 finally asked. 
 
 "Not me, but Fse wonderin how t tell youse what I 
 got ter so as youse won t lose yer head." 
 
 "Lose my head? Why, Mickey, if anything in this 
 world could make me lose my head, I wouldn t have it 
 now." 
 
 "Wouldn t? Well, don t youse be too sure." 
 
 He sat down, threw off his coat and cap and seemed 
 in no hurry to tell his news. 
 
428 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "Go ahead, Mickey, I m waiting," the other admon 
 ished. 
 
 "All right, all right; I se found yer robber, and it s 
 two of em, stead of one." 
 
 "Don t joke, Mickey, please don t." 
 "No joke, Charley; this is th word with th bark 
 on it. I seen both of em heard all they says an now 
 it s up t youse." 
 
 "Heard them !" Charley stood with his hands spread 
 out on the table, every nerve, every fiber of his body 
 tense. "Mickey, don t tell me a word that is not God 
 Almighty s truth." He measured the words one by one 
 in a low voice. "God Almighty s truth, Mickey, for I 
 am not to be played with, not by you, even." 
 
 The cripple looked up and something he read in the 
 mechanic s face caused his voice to tremble as he went 
 on: 
 
 "It s th truth, Charley ; I seen them heard them 
 
 an an " 
 
 "Go on!" 
 
 "Well, if I must it s Stinker Price an th Boss 
 an I wish t God it hadn t a-bin th Boss. I ain t got 
 nothin agin him no more God knows I ain t." 
 "Price and Mr. Holdon; is that what you mean?" 
 "Yes them, an nobody else," Mickey answered, 
 passing a hand over his eyes to rid himself of the face 
 he saw across the table. To himself he said : "He takes 
 it a sight differenter as I thought he would jist as 
 quiet." 
 
 "Go on, Mickey." 
 
 "Well, youse remember last night, how I twigged 
 youse an tells yer youse better go th other way? Well, 
 I was a-layin fer Stinker Price then, an I was some 
 afraid he might shy off ef he sees youse moonin round. 
 He went up into th buildin jist th other side ov 
 Shifty Smith s joint, an I most froze fore he comes 
 down; then purty soon down comes Mr. Holdon. Now 
 I hooks em together on this robbin business to oncet. 
 Yer got t use yer headpiece ef youse wants t git next 
 t things in th mertropolis, an youse don t never want 
 t forgit nothin . I remembers how Holdon wants yer 
 machine, an how Price was so mighty anxious t find 
 youse that time youse hit th grit; so when I meets up 
 
THE PROSPECTIVE CANDIDATE AT A CONFERENCE 429 
 
 with youse this time, an youse ses as how some bloke 
 has swiped yer fixin s fer th machine, I ses t myself, 
 Mickey, that ain t no hard nut t crack; jist keep yer 
 lamps on Stinker* Price, that s all/ " 
 
 "Yes, and then?" 
 
 "Don t look at me that way," the narrator protested. 
 "I I hev seen only one set of eyes that looked like 
 yourn do an I got enough t do t fergit them." 
 
 Charley mumbled a promise not to look that way 
 any more if Mickey would finish his story. 
 
 "Well, I was right as a rivet. I told youse I d seen 
 yer machine; it s in a little shop run by a man name 
 
 of Robinson at street. I follered Stinker 
 
 Price there, an when he went away I made up to Mr. 
 Robinson he s as innocent as can be an it didn t take 
 me but two days t find out that th Stinker was havin 
 a machine built. Then cause I acted like I m half nuts, 
 an jist can t help it, I gets t see th machine, an holds 
 things an gits tools fer Mr. Robinson. I asks youse, 
 remember? what sort of machine it is, an as soon as ever 
 youse tells me I knows I got it straight; an to-night 
 fixed it." The cripple paused, got up and seemed loath 
 to finish his story. 
 
 "Go on, go on! My God, man, don t you see how 
 hard I am trying to be to keep quiet, until you come to 
 the end?" 
 
 "And then what?" Mickey demanded, shooting a 
 quick look at the other. 
 
 "Leave that to me but now for God s sake tell 
 me the rest." 
 
 "I was a-feared of it." Mickey spoke more to him 
 self than to his listener, and went on: 
 
 "Well, to-night, I f oilers th Stinker t Shifty s , 
 he goes up them same stairs an I follers. Then when 
 he s in th back end of a side hall, he lights a match, 
 opens a door an goes in. I sees his match go out an 
 steps in with him. When I thinks what he ll do t me 
 if he lights another match an sees me, I purty near 
 croaks. But, I m in there, an he s huntin fer another 
 match, an swearin whilst I prays prays, that he ain t 
 got no more matches, which is bout th only prayer I 
 ever had answered, fer he ain t got none. Then he un 
 locks another door and says, guess I better see if that 
 
430 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 other door is latched, an goes back t th first one an I 
 dodges in t the one he s jist opened a minute afore an 
 begins t feel fer some place t hide, when I comes t a 
 other door an it isn t shut, so I slips in an finds I m in 
 a swell bedroom. Jist then I hears somebody sing out, 
 That you, Price ? an I knows to oncet it s my old boss. 
 I makes a duck under th bed an from then on, I jist 
 about fergot that I might be took out frum under that 
 bed an* be skinned alive. First off, Holdon s fer han- 
 din Price over to th police, says he s robbed him of 
 $25,000 an* when Price mentions your machine, Holdon 
 fairly sizzles, he *s so mad, swears that s another piece 
 of robbery, says he s bin bamboozled by both of youse. 
 Then th Stinker tells him where th machine is and 
 that by to-morrer night he can have th drawin s, formu 
 la an* other papers all where th boss can see fer himself 
 that th machine is all t th good. Then old Holdon 
 fires at him. Hev them papers, th assignment of your 
 interest an ? all th rest of it here to-morrer night at ten 
 o clock, an we will settle this machine business ; an* see 
 that youse is prompt, too, cause I m goin to stay here 
 to-morrer night and you ll have to git through business 
 by eleven o clock. " 
 
 "Did he say ten o clock?" 
 
 "Yep, ten perzactly. Well, I thought th show was 
 about over an was wonderin how t make me git-away, 
 when Holdon says: Are youse going t be prepared t 
 repay that twenty-five thousand to-morrer night? Price 
 waits a minute an then says, I ll promise t set youse 
 right on th machine, but will have t take a little more 
 time on th money, when Holdon snaps him up. No, 
 youse don t; we clean th whole business up to-morrer 
 night. So come prepared, and th Stinker agrees. An 
 they leaves suddin , an say, I m plum scared till I gits 
 t thinkin that all them locks jist hev keys fer th out- 
 sides. Ennybody kin git out, but it takes keys t git in. 
 Comin out here , I gits t thinkin how them gents has 
 bin plannin t rob youse from th start. An how 
 Stinker Price gits it inter his nut t help Holdon rob 
 youse. Then when he has th old man where th hair is 
 short, up an robs him. Say, I d like t be up there to- 
 morrer night, but I got other biz t tend t bet yer life 
 it will be gay." 
 
THE PROSPECTIVE CANDIDATE AT A CONFERENCE 43! 
 
 "Well, why don t youse say something?" Mickey in 
 quired after waiting a long time for Charley to com 
 ment upon his story. 
 
 "It s up to me to do, the saying s all been done." The 
 tone of the speaker, was level , matter-of-fact, subdued, 
 and Mickey looked at him in astonishment. 
 
 "Well, what do youse think ov that? Cooler n me, 
 an it wasn t my machine." Mickey commented to him 
 self while watching his host. 
 
 "You say Price is to have the drawings up there to 
 morrow no, to-night? It s past one, Mickey." 
 
 "Yep, an now I put youse next, I m gcin t look aft 
 er a little biz of my own to-morrer, but I ll run out here 
 in a day or two an see how things is comin I d advise 
 youse t see a lawyer." 
 
 "I won t need a lawyer, and, Mickey, I never ex 
 pect to be able to thank you in this world " 
 
 "An no other counts with me," the cripple inter 
 rupted. "When I gits out of this cussed old world, I 
 wants t take a rest, an I don t want nobody comin 
 round thankin me fer anything I ever done here. I 
 want ter fergit it." 
 
 "Then let me thank you now, and, Mickey, if any 
 thing should happen to me, and we should not meet 
 again, remember I hold you the best and truest friend 
 I ever had, my mother excepted." 
 
 "That goes," Mickey grinned. "That goes an th 
 best luck I could wish youse fer to-night is that youse 
 could be under that bed. So long." 
 
 Charley stood in the doorway watching the cripple as 
 he made his way down the street, then turning the key, 
 he went to the light, drew a key ring from his pocket 
 and examined two keys closely. 
 
 "I wonder does he remember no, of course he does 
 not, and if he did, unless he suspected or had discovered 
 Mickey, poor little chap, he would never think of the 
 possibility of " 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 MICKEY MEETS A TOPNOTCHER. 
 
 There was but one party at interest whose fear of 
 meeting Fly Boyd grew as the days of her coming grew 
 nearer, and that was Mickey. 
 
 What would she do how would she receive the baby ? 
 How much of his story dare he tell her? How should 
 he tell it? "Any ways," he concluded, as he mulled the 
 matter over for the hundredth time, "they don t none ov 
 em take my baby away from me. Wasn t de kid s 
 mother bugs ? Mighty queer she was set on a-sayin she 
 ain t never had no baby. An the doc says they was a 
 blank in her headpiece an a obsession of some sort in 
 her thinkin work; an me a-sittin there a-tryin t look 
 wise, when all I kin do is bat me lamps an nod, an me 
 not a-knowin a darned word he s a-sayin hardly. Say, 
 I wisht it was over, I wisht Fly would come." 
 
 And Fly came, but Mickey Dougherty did not meet 
 her that day. He had found other business, as we have 
 seen; business so engrossing that he even forgot the 
 baby; of course, he wouldn t have forgotten the baby or 
 missed Fly s home-coming had he not known that Mamie 
 would care for the baby, and not being at the Michigan 
 avenue house the day a wire came, telling them the mis 
 tress would arrive two days ahead of schedule, and then 
 the business well, surely Mickey may be excused. 
 
 When Mamie began the story of Mickey and the 
 baby, Fly asked : "When will his highness, Mr. Mickey, 
 arrive ?" 
 
 "I ve been expecting him any minute for three days." 
 
 "Well, he wants to put in an appearance inside of an 
 other three days, for I want to know this baby-hiding 
 business to the bottom." 
 
 "I can tell you part of the story, Flo, and I think you 
 will agree that I have done the right thing." Flo (to 
 
 432 
 
MICKEY MEETS A TOPNOTCHER 433 
 
 Mamie, she was always "Flo"), leaning back in a 
 comfortable chair, evinced her willingness to listen, and 
 Mamie began. "You know how they came here, and 
 I ve kept you posted on everything up to the time she 
 died. When she got over that first bad spell the doctor 
 said she d live, for her mind was freed from the sorrow 
 that had been killing her. When she got well enough to 
 talk, she wanted to know where she was, and said she 
 had had such an awful bad dream. Looking all about 
 and at us, she wanted to know who we were and how 
 she came to be with us. My head ac hed from answer 
 ing her questions, and I guess hers did, too, from try 
 ing to understand my answers. When Dr. Thomas 
 came, the first thing he said was, Well, really, I didn t 
 expect this; she will get well, but it is doubtful if she 
 ever regains all her senses. I must see that little Irish 
 man and make him talk. Before he went away he had 
 an opportunity to talk to Mickey, but when I asked him 
 if he had learned anything, he only shook his head. One 
 morning when she was able to sit up, Mickey, who had 
 suffered keenly because she didn t know him, proposed 
 that we try what the baby could do toward bringing her 
 back to consciousness of the past. The baby was brought 
 in by Jane, and Mickey took it and carried it over to 
 her. She looked at it and smiling asked, Whose baby is 
 it? Isn t it a beautiful little thing? At that Mickey 
 lost command of himself. His face went white and as 
 he suddenly thrust the baby into her arms, he exclaimed, 
 Td think you d be ashamed to disown your own baby; 
 and it with no father or nothing but you an* me to take 
 care of it ! She had caught the little thing in her arms 
 when he thrust it upon her, but before he had finished 
 speaking, she dropped it in her lap and looked distressed : 
 It isn t my baby ; I couldn t have had a baby. Oh, won t 
 some one take it away and send that horrid little man 
 out of my sight? That was all she said, but the dis 
 tressed voice and the bitter weeping that followed Mick 
 ey s experiment convinced us that it was best to let her 
 have her own way. I did my best to make her believe 
 it a joke, but with little success. She declared it was 
 simply awful for Mickey to do such a thing. I left her 
 and found Mickey in Jane s room on his knees by the 
 baby s bed, crying as though his heart would break." 
 
434 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 Mamie paused and looked fixedly at Fly. "I hope he 
 will tell you all the story. There is a tragedy back of his 
 love for this woman and baby; it s written all over his 
 face." 
 
 "He will tell me," Fly declared. 
 ****** 
 
 "Hello, Mickey, they tell me you have gotten to be a 
 man of family since last I saw you." 
 
 Fly Boyd met our little Irishman with outstretched 
 hand, as he entered her parior the morning after he had 
 delivered his startling news to Charley Harris. 
 
 "Yep, guess I m it all right, ail right," he responded. 
 "But say, youse is good to lok at in them togs. Say, d 
 youse know, Mamie jist about flunked when I brung the 
 missus and baby here. She sure got.cold feet." 
 
 "Do you blame her?" Fly asked, as she pointed him 
 to a chair. 
 
 "Well, rfot so as youse ud notice ; I reckon it was a 
 big contract t put up t her." 
 
 "I should say so; anti the baby, Mickey? Whose is 
 it, and what are you going to do with it?" 
 
 "Whose it is," Mickey answered after some delibera 
 tion, "was fer it s mother t say. What I m goin t do 
 with it is a heap sight bigger question than I kin find a 
 answer to jist now." 
 
 "But if you d tell, we could make its father take care 
 of it, you know. Otherwise, it will have to go -to some 
 orphans home." 
 
 "No, that kid don t go t no old orfing s home. An 
 it don t need no father t take care of it. I m a-goin t 
 see that kid raised, an say why won t youse kind of 
 dopt it, Fly? Youse d look mighty good with a baby 
 like that." 
 
 The peal of laughter that greeted this speech rather 
 dampened his ardor. What could she see that was laugh- 
 provoking in a thing that to him was all tragedy? 
 
 "Really, Mickey, you are too droll. The very idea." 
 And again the woman laughed. 
 
 "I don t see nothin funny bout this here biz," Mick 
 ey protested. 
 
 "You don t?" Fly gasped between paroxysms of 
 laughter. "Why, it s the funniest thing that ever hap- 
 
MICKEY MEETS A TOPNOTCHER 435 
 
 pened. Whatever put it into your head to ask me to 
 adopt the baby?" 
 
 "What s a feller a-goin t do with th kid, ef some of 
 his fren s won t dopt it?" 
 
 "I said you could send it to an " 
 
 "An I says nit! I got t h coin t bring that kid up 
 a lady, an , an " 
 
 "You ve got the coin?" Incredulity written in every 
 line, Fly looked intently at her visitor. "Now, Mickey, 
 lets talk business," she admonished. "You say you have 
 the coin. How much, that s the question?" 
 
 "Well, how much had it oug ht to cost to keep er kid 
 like that a year?" Mickey parried. 
 
 "Oh, two or three hundred a year, and you know, 
 you can t possibly get that much together year after 
 year," she answered lightly. 
 
 "Can t I ? Say, Fly, I kin show youse in a minute 
 say, I kin keep dat kid dressed in velvet, an eatin offen 
 nuthin but gold dishes fer a hundred years !" 
 
 Diving into a pocket, Mickey fished up a handful of 
 bills, and held them out for Fly s inspection. 
 
 "And they s more where that come frum," he con 
 cluded as she took the bills. 
 
 "Twelve hundred dollars? W here in this world did 
 you get it, Mickey?" 
 
 "Where I had a right to take it fer th kid." He col 
 ored up and looked troubled when Fly pressed her ques 
 tion. 
 
 "They ain t no use, Fly, an youse is just wastin 
 time. They ain t nobody but me an God, if they is one, 
 as knows, an when I m dead, they won t be nobody 
 know. Say," he looked square into her eyes : "Youse 
 never knowed me to be nothin but square, did youse?" 
 
 "No, Mickey, I never did." 
 
 "Then ef I tells youse I hev a right t that money 
 long as I uses it t fake care ov th kid, youse ll b leve 
 me, won t yer?" 
 
 "Y-e-s, Mickey, I believe you. But it seems so 
 strange." 
 
 "An Fly, it s stranger as it seems," he answered with 
 a sigh, then looked up to ask : "What th hell am I goin* 
 t do ef youse won t dopt th kid? I had my heart set 
 on youse; course Mamie d take her, but Mamie ain t 
 
MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 Mamie, he was worth his weight in gold, even if he did 
 let trouble and dope get the best of him." 
 
 "Yes, he was white," Mamie admitted; then asked: 
 "What in the world did you want to get your hooks into 
 Holdon for anyway?" 
 
 Fly clasped her hands in her lap and, bending for 
 ward, sat silent with her eyes on a figure in the carpet 
 for a time, then looking up quickly, said : 
 
 "You remember, I had just broken with Jim and was 
 desperate. The scheme came to me after reading a well 
 written story in a Sunday paper. I thought I would 
 marry this old millionaire when he wasn t around, go 
 to Europe with him and milk him for all he would let 
 loose of, then come home and tell him what he was up 
 "against and get a lump sum from him in order to keep 
 me quiet and save him the notoriety an explosion would 
 cause." 
 
 "And why didn t you do it ?" Mamie wanted to know. 
 
 "Because he was too good to me, too good, Mamie. 
 Why, there never was an hour when he did not treat me 
 better than the majority of men treat their wives, I 
 fancy. So, bacl as I am, I could not bring myself to it, 
 I could not; and if I could destroy the record of that 
 little piece of business over in Michigan, I would gladly 
 do it. The cold facts are, Mamie, I m afraid it will come 
 out. What could I tell him ; what could I do ?" 
 
 "Have you forgotten Jim ?" the maid asked, reproval 
 in her voice. 
 
 "Forgotten Jim? No, I have not; I never shall. But 
 this case is different. Mr. Holdon has been square with 
 me, and if I had known him as well then, well, I wouldn t 
 have lugged poor old Tom over to Michigan!" 
 
 "As long as he don t know, I don t see why you 
 should fret about it," Mamie protested; then advised: 
 
 "If I was you, I d stick as long as he s good, and 
 when it s safe, I d let folks know how friendly he is. 
 Some day that Siarriage may prove the best investment 
 you ever made." 
 
 "So you d go up there to-night?" Fly questioned. 
 
 "Sure I d go. What are such men good for, if it isn t 
 to keep up the running expenses?" 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A HAND AT HOLDON^S. 
 
 Mr. Abner was a much shrewder manager of men 
 than either the Hon. Horace Holdon or Mr. Franklin 
 Price, and it followed that while he boiled privately, he 
 was all smiles when any of his hands were about. The 
 reports from the Corporations Protective Association 
 had convinced him that there was a "leak" in his office 
 and a dangerous one. Taking over another man s busi 
 ness along with his mistakes but intensified Mr. Abner s 
 determination to rid himself of the mistakes, greatest 
 among which was the "raise" the hands had secured 
 through Price s tactical blunder. But the new manager- 
 president was not to rush blindly into a readjustment of 
 wages. First, he had to find the "leak," then gradually 
 dispose of the more aggressive unionists ; then, and only 
 then, could he put into execution his plans for a wide- 
 open shop. From the first he strongly suspected the 
 foreman and the confidential clerk Mr. Holdon had so 
 warmly commended. To be forearmed is better far than 
 to be forewarned. And Mr. Abner knew just what he 
 proposed to do, therefore set about arming for the bat 
 tle he proposed to bring on. His attorneys were given 
 the names of all the unions having members in the Hol 
 don plant and of the officials of the same, together with 
 instructions to prepare a blanket injunction against them 
 individually and collectively. 
 
 "And make it strong, so strong they can t do more 
 than breathe, then when the crash comes I ll put them 
 Out of business once and for all. When the thing s ready 
 bring it to me ; I want to look it over." These were his 
 exact words. And the forthcoming injunction pleased 
 him. 
 
 "Can you find a judge who would issue it? They 
 tell me most of your judges are politicians and are 
 afraid of the unions," he observed to the attorney, and 
 on that point he was reassured. 
 
 439 
 
44O MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 Moses Webster, who when a boy took up his home 
 with the people who later gave him their name, found 
 a note purporting to be from Moran on his desk one 
 morning shortly after the president had examined the 
 injunction he proposed to use as a club over the hands. 
 As a result, he went out to the moulding floor to see 
 what Moran wanted. 
 
 "Why, man alive, I never left a note for you, not on 
 union business. Say, don t do it again," the foreman 
 advised. "I tell you, for all his smiling, the new boss 
 isn t asleep, an you want to be careful." 
 
 Puzzled, the young man returned to his desk. And 
 after examining the note carefully, thought, "If I d taken 
 a second look at it, I would have known Moran never 
 sent it in." 
 
 "Mr. Abner wants you," a boy announced. 
 
 Webster looked up, then leaned back in his chair, 
 and was lost in thought until the boy appeared again. 
 At the second summons he hurried into the president s 
 office. 
 
 "Well, young man, how s the Moulder s Union?" 
 The question came point blank and the clerk stood 
 dumb. "Did you see Moran?" came next, and Moses 
 answered "Yes." "Well, young man, I don t know that 
 I ought to waste words on you, but I will say this much, 
 if half I believe of you is true, I ought to kick you off 
 the premises." 
 
 To this the clerk made no reply. He knew his doom. 
 
 "I didn t think you d have anything to say, a sneak 
 ing spy such as you generally is dumb when even con 
 fronted with a suspicion that he s been found out." 
 
 "So I m a sneaking spy, am I?" The man in him 
 had found voice. 
 
 The president whirled about in his chair. 
 
 "Yes, you are," he thundered, and the stenographer 
 hastily quit her seat. 
 
 "Stay there, Miss Wagner, if you please ; I may need 
 you," he commanded, and Moses now ready for battle, 
 replied with spirit: 
 
 "Yes, have Miss Wagner stay, have her stay; you 
 may need her, but not to take down what I have to say 
 to you you " 
 
A HAND AT HOLDON S 44! 
 
 "What have you to say? Well, I like that." Mr. 
 Abner had recovered his poise. "I like that," he re 
 peated. "An informer, spy, ingrate, has something to 
 say to the man who has found him out. Go ahead, young 
 man, and you," to the stenographer, "see that you don t 
 miss a word." 
 
 "Now, young man, what have you to say?" 
 
 The president leaned back smiling, but when he 
 looked into the face and saw the eyes of the man stand 
 ing beside his desk, the smile faded. 
 
 "You have made it easy, Mr. Abner, easy for me to 
 tell you just what I think of you and the rest of the 
 employers of labor, who organized the Corporations 
 Protective Association." Moses paused a moment, drew 
 a long breath and trained his guns upon the enemy. "It 
 comes with poor grace from you to accuse another of 
 being a spy, when you, too cowardly to do a spy s work, 
 hire, with the profits you take out of the workers, a lot 
 of the world s outcasts to spy upon the men whose in 
 dustry made your wealth." Abner put up a hand in 
 protest. "No you don t ; I will have it out ! And I dare 
 you to call any one, and you can t put me out ; you, you 
 Sunday saint! Haven t I followed you to church? 
 Don t I know that you and I profess the same religion? 
 Yes, and I also know that it was my religion that caused 
 me to expose the Holdon Company s infamous scheme to 
 put perjured spies into the unions; and since I have 
 known you, and know that you are hand in glove with 
 the spy furnishers and are at this time planning the de 
 struction of the workers sole defense against your 
 greed, I often wonder if it is your religion that makes 
 you a reprobate or " 
 
 "Stop that!" Abner was on his feet. "Stop that, 
 you cur !" With clinched fists and livid face, he took one 
 step toward the clerk. 
 
 "Not another inch, you whited sepulcher, not an 
 other inch! As I am a Christian, if you cross the bor 
 der of that rug, I ll forget your age, everything, and do 
 what I ve longed to do ever since I learned that you were 
 no better than Price or Holdon." 
 
 The president halted, and in a torrent Moses poured 
 forth his pent-up indignation. 
 
 "What do such men as you care for us the men and 
 
442 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 women who work for you? What do you care whether 
 our families live or die, whether we rot in filth or give 
 way in the struggle for existence and help swell your 
 criminal class? What do you care? And yet, you are 
 a Christian! God save the name of Christian. You, a 
 Christian! Why, your soul isn t big enough to lay on 
 the furnace grates in hell it would fall through into 
 the ash pit. A man who will hire a conscienceless 
 wretch to perjure his soul for a few filthy dollars isn t 
 fit to be named barbarian, to say nothing of parading as 
 a follower of Jesus Christ." 
 
 "I tell you I will not hear more of this; you are a 
 fit candidate for an asylum ! * Abner sat down and 
 reached for the button which once pressed would bring a 
 clerk to the room at double quick. 
 
 "Don t put your finger on that, or by all that s holy, 
 I ll give the whole works just what you re getting," 
 Moses declared, and Abner withdrew his hand and bent 
 his head to listen. "When I first discovered that Hoi- 
 don was of your stripe I wanted to quit my job, but I 
 thought they might not bring on the spies after all. Then 
 when they did come, I either had to surrender my re 
 ligion or become an informer and spy in defense of the 
 men. I chose to stick to the men; and I want you to 
 understand that the only thing I regret in the whole con 
 nection is that the men did not treat Price to the same 
 dose they gave the spies. So far as you are concerned, 
 my prayer is that if you bring on another bunch of free- 
 born patriotic perjurers the men will take you out and 
 treat you the same as they did Farley and the others." 
 
 Moses sat down, but Abner did not look up. How 
 ever, Miss Wagner did, and the young man glancing at 
 her, read approval in her eyes. 
 
 "I ve had my say," Moses went on after a painful 
 silence, "and it s up to you make it short." 
 
 Slowly the great financier turned in his chair, his 
 face white and drawn. 
 
 "Young man," he began, "I don t want even a dog to 
 hold such an opinion of me as you have formed. I I 
 never ," he paused to pass a hand over his face. "I 
 never heard such talk in my life, and I don t know 
 how to meet it"; another pause. "I thought 
 they paid you for the information I really did." 
 
A HAND AT HOLDON S 443 
 
 "Then you were mistaken. I was paid through the 
 approval of my own conscience, and while I faced, and 
 face now, the greatest misery that may fall upon a prop- 
 ertyless man, lack of employment, embittered by the 
 knowledge that you will blacklist me," Abner winced, 
 "yes, blacklist me I will go out of your office clean in 
 heart and soul, clean in thought, and ready to face any 
 indignity your power may put upon me and mine. I 
 have done a man s duty in as dirty a fight for dollars as 
 was ever waged against the men of my class." 
 
 The stenographer sat biting the end of her pencil 
 and Abner, lost in thought, induced by the problem of 
 what to do with this young rebel, pen in hand, sat mark 
 ing his blotter with long strokes. 
 
 "Mr. Holdon to see you, sir," a clerk at the door an 
 nounced. 
 
 And Mr. Abner relieved for the moment of an awk 
 ward burden, responded with alacrity, "Tell him to 
 come in." 
 
 "And me?" Moses queried as Mr. Holdon entered. 
 
 "Oh, I ll attend to that later," the employer answered, 
 his tone implying that the matter referred to was tri 
 vial. 
 
 For the remainder of the day Moses worked but lit 
 tle. He sat dreaming of a hunt for work, always end 
 ing in refusal because he had dared to be a man in the 
 presence of one who had insulted him, and wondered 
 how he would break the news to the little wife. Then, 
 too, he wondered when Abner would send for him, or if 
 he did not, how he would be disposed of, who would act 
 as headsman? 
 
 That night he entered his modest little home weight 
 ed with a thousand cares that grew as he dwelt upon 
 them. 
 
 "Oh, Moses, I have such good news ! Why, what s 
 the matter, are you sick dear?" The exclamation and 
 question came in a breath as the wife lifted her face for 
 a kiss. 
 
 "If your good news will offset my bad news," the 
 husband began 
 
 "Offset your bad news? Why, nothing in the world 
 can be bad enough to weigh a feather." 
 
/{ /| /| MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "Don t be too sure," he smiled in spite of himself, as 
 he looked into her radiant face. 
 
 "Too sure; why, Moses, I know. Haven t I got the 
 letter ? You know how badly I have wanted to get out 
 of this dirty city for the children s sake?" 
 
 "Yes, dear, I know." 
 
 "Don t frown so ; you do nothing else when you come 
 from work lately, nothing else." 
 
 "Don t I love you and let the kids use me for a rid 
 ing horse?" he demanded, taking her in his arms. 
 
 "Oh, yes but you don t listen to my news," she 
 pouted. "And it is almost too good to be true." 
 
 "I m listening." 
 
 "Well, it took you a long time. You know how 
 much I love Mother Webster? Well, they, she and 
 father, have written that they want to quit the farm and 
 move into that new town near them, and father wants 
 you to take charge of the farm." Moses whistled. "But 
 that s not the best news ; you know they always said you 
 should have the property some day? Well, mother 
 writes that they have decided that this is no place for 
 the children, and you know I never complained to her, 
 and to induce you to go to them they are going to give 
 us the farm now." 
 
 "Wait a minute, mother," the astonished husband 
 protested. This being lifted out of poverty in a city 
 and a jobless poverty at that, was too enervating; it 
 was of the species of joy that kills. "Wait a minute, 
 mother," he protested, "I I- 
 
 "Moses, you are crying, what in the world- 
 
 He drew her closer to him and allowed his tears to 
 fall unchecked. Back across the years, memory carried 
 him to that night, that one night in his life that would 
 ever stand out distinct from all other nights. He saw 
 a sweet- faced mother, whose only babe had been taken 
 from her, gather a poor, half-crazed little wanderer to 
 her bosom ; and from that day to the hour when he had 
 gone out of her home into the great world she had been 
 his rock in time of need. And here, at another crucial 
 moment in his life, her hand and that of her jovial, big- 
 hearted husband, were held out to him, to his. 
 
 Do you wonder that the flood gates opened? 
 
CHAPTER XXL 
 
 THE PLOTTERS MEET. 
 
 "You are at least punctual in keeping your engage 
 ment," Hoi don eyed the roll of papers and parcel Price 
 deposited on the table, then continued. "I suppose you 
 are prepared to meet my demand for the return of the 
 money you appropriated during my absence?" 
 
 Price stood beside a chair he had drawn up alongside 
 the one occupied by his employer. 
 
 "First, allow me to suggest that we settle the ques 
 tion of the existence or non-existence of the Harris ma 
 chine," he advised, as he sat down. 
 
 "Oh, that s settled, I had Robinson on the phone," 
 Holdon answered. "I am more interested in that money 
 than in anything else just at present." 
 
 "And I insist that we will be able to settle that little 
 point more amicably when you have my report, and see 
 the figure this machine deal has set me back," the other 
 persisted. 
 
 "Well, have it your way now ; but I warn you, there 
 isn t anything you can say will prevent me having that 
 money out of " he ceased speaking and got to his 
 feet 
 
 "What was that?" he demanded, searching the room 
 from end to end with his eyes, his hands spread out upon 
 the table before him. "What was that?" he repeated, 
 while Price looked up quizzically to ask: "What was 
 what?" 
 
 "Why, I d swear I heard some one moving in this 
 room." 
 
 Price smiled and untied the papers, while Holdon 
 went through the rooms in a vain search for that some 
 one. When he returned to the table, Price, without com 
 ment upon the interruption, plunged into the case in 
 hand. Step by step, he knit about his vis-a-vis the web 
 in which he hoped to hold him. From the beginning, 
 
 445 
 
446 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 he laid great stress upon the fact that he had been deputed 
 to get possession of the confidence of Harris, then secure 
 the machine or the plans for it. Next, he took up his 
 relations with Robinson and recounted the various steps 
 he had taken to insure the building of the two machines. 
 When he had finished, he said : 
 
 " In view of the fact that I have succeeded in getting 
 this machine Robinson is finishing in shape for what can 
 not fail to be a successful test, and have the model so 
 far along that it can be finished within the week, don t 
 you think I had a right to draw sufficient funds to meet 
 any emergency that might arise, without calling you into 
 the case, and in event of a show-down, exposing you 
 
 Never mind that Price," Holdon interrupted. "Just 
 pass those figures over; I want to see how much you 
 have set over against this job." 
 
 "The figure is stiff enough," he commented, after 
 carefully scrutinizing the statement Price had prepared. 
 "But it don t commence to cover the twenty-odd thou 
 sand you took." 
 
 "No, it don t; but I have not finished the job. Be 
 sides, it seems to me that the man who is competent to 
 handle so delicate a piece of business is entitled to some 
 thing more than wages." 
 
 "And you call this a delicate job ?" Holdon exclaimed 
 in disgust. " Why, man, a fool could have robbed Harris 
 of his eyes. Delicate nothing ! It was boy s play !" 
 
 "It may seem so to you, who had no part in working 
 it out, but, if you think it s boy s play to act the part of 
 a thief and skulk through alleys and back streets well, 
 I only wish you might have a chance " 
 
 "Tut, tut, Price, let s not become hysterical. You 
 have no need to convince me of your histrionic abilities, 
 since that little check scene enacted right in this room." 
 
 "I am not hysterical, however, when I insist that in 
 view of the work I have done for you on this job, your 
 little histrionic stunt at the conference the other day 
 was a gross insult," Price retorted. 
 
 Holdon stared at his guest a moment, then blurted 
 out: "Just drop that tone, my man. You are not sure 
 enough of your footing to get farther from the ground." 
 
 "I want to stick to the ground," Price insisted. "Right 
 
THE PLOTTERS MEET 447 
 
 to the ground. And as for my footing, leave that to me." 
 
 Glaring at each other, Holdon first found words to 
 express his feelings. 
 
 "You contemptible liar," he hissed. "You want to 
 keep your feet on the ground, do you? Well, be careful 
 how you move, or you ll swing high enough from the 
 ground." 
 
 "Will I?" Price questioned, his face contorted by the 
 play of passions long pent up. "Will I? Well, it won t 
 be because your virtuous self has any part in the swing 
 ing; and, what s more, I tell you flat you either come to 
 terms " 
 
 "Come to terms! Come to terms! You scum!" 
 Holdon struck at the man beside him, biting his lips and 
 puffing like a winded bull the while. Price dodged and 
 pulling his chair farther away, turned a set, white face 
 to his antagonist. 
 
 "You had best keep your temper, Holdon," his voice 
 was low, "because I ve something to say to you that 
 may try it a bit a bit more," he corrected. 
 
 Holdon still biting his lips, sat humped over, as 
 though prepared to spring at his agent. 
 
 "You have called me a thief," Price began, intently 
 watching his neighbor. "A thief, and I want to tell you 
 why I took some twenty thousand dollars of your money. 
 You hired me to rob Harris, and I hadn t been in the 
 game long until I made up my mind that you would 
 rob me if you got a chance. That being the case, I pro 
 posed to put myself in a position where I could force 
 you into a gentleman s agreement to keep your hands off 
 me. I have brought all the plans for both the Harris 
 and Robinson machines with me to-night. I also have 
 the Harris formula and the compound as he made it 
 up. I also have two letters you wrote me from Kansas 
 City you " 
 
 "You devil ! Didn t you destroy those letters ?" 
 
 It was not a belligerent man, but a suppliant who 
 asked the question, and Price did not misunderstand in 
 the slightest degree what the changed tone implied, 
 
 "I should say I did not destroy them," he boasted. 
 
 "And you have them with you ?" Holdon asked, wet 
 ting his lips with his tongue. 
 
 "Not me, they re in a box behind a good lock." 
 
44^ MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "What do you propose " 
 
 "Yes, I, too, would like to know just what he pro 
 poses." 
 
 Both men turned on the instant and started to leave 
 their chairs when the same voice, calm, cool, and des 
 perately deliberate, said: 
 
 "Gentlemen, you will please be seated again and put 
 your hands on the table; that s right now, the first 
 one of you to lift a hand will beat the other one to hell 
 by about three seconds." The speaker paused. 
 
 Holdon and Price, from staring open-mouthed at the 
 disheveled, stern-faced man, with a revolver in each 
 hand, looked at each other, and each read a plea in the 
 other s eyes for deliverance, and a promise of co-opera 
 tion as well, were it possible to pass intelligence under 
 those two tubes of steel. 
 
 "You two," the intruder began slowly, "will not need 
 to agree as to the division of the spoils. You have rob 
 bed and been robbed for the last time but one on this 
 earth, and I propose to finish the work." 
 
 Again the two shot a furtive glance at each other. 
 Holdon had huddled down in his chair while Price had 
 leaned back with only his fingers on the table. 
 
 "I hope to God Price has a gun," Holdon thought, 
 as he noted the position of his companion. If Charley 
 Harris noted Price s drawing back from the table, he 
 paid no heed. 
 
 "You, Mr. Holdon," the revolver in his left hand 
 moved downward until it pointed at Holdon s third vest 
 button, "are a more contemptible hound than this dog 
 over here straighten up, Price your only hope of life 
 lies in keeping your hands on the table." 
 
 Price brought his chair down with a thump and 
 thrust his hands well out on the table. 
 
 "That s better," the same cool voice went on. "Now, 
 Mr. Holdon, I was saying I consider you a more con 
 temptible hound than this sneak thief over here. You 
 took me into your foundry under a promise to help me 
 perfect my machine. I laid my whole heart open before 
 you ; told you just what I wanted to do with the money 
 my invention would bring me, how I wanted to make 
 my father and mother happy and care free; all of this, 
 I told you, and you smiled and promised to help me. 
 

 
 IB first one of you to lift a hand will beat the other one to hell by about 
 three seconds." Paj?e 448. 
 
THE PLOTTERS MEET 449 
 
 I went to work and within three days you had hired a 
 detective to worm his way into my confidence, and when 
 his report satisfied you that I really could build a suc 
 cessful moulding machine, you hired this whelp over 
 here to rob me." 
 
 Harris paused and looked intently at Price, who had 
 moved back once more until his fingers alone were on 
 the table. He moved forward again before Harris 
 deigned to proceed. 
 
 "But, Mr. Holdon," he went on with a short laugh, 
 "there was a part of the story he failed to tell you. 
 From the first, Price decided to rob both of us, and 
 very nearly overreached himself. He told me he was 
 building a machine and described mine so closely, thanks 
 to your detective s ability to pump a boy from the coun 
 try, that I quit your plant, and for months Price used 
 your money and the detective, Martin, to hunt me. 
 When he found me, he had a new story. His machine 
 had proven a failure, and you insisted upon taking up 
 my machine. I was to have one hundred dollars per 
 month while building it, and a half interest in the patents 
 when it was finished." 
 
 Holdon looked at Price, moistened his lips and asked : 
 
 "What do you want, Harris?" 
 
 "I don t want anything either of you have to give." 
 
 "I ll sign everything over to you, Harris, everything, 
 and give you an agreement to buy the machine." 
 
 "No you won t. If you did, you d hire another thief 
 to rob me to-morrow." 
 
 Price had his fingers back on the edge of the table 
 again, and as Harris was attending to what Holdon 
 was saying, he thrust himself back a little farther, and, 
 as their captor s vehemence while answering Holdon 
 caused him to be less watchful, Price slipped his hands 
 from the table, kicked his chair over and ducked to 
 the floor. Once under cover of the table, it took him 
 but a moment to draw his revolver. With the disappear 
 ance of Price, stillness fell upon the group. As Holdon 
 looked up into Harris eyes, he shuddered. The man 
 was mad and unless Price had a gun 
 
 "You might as well come out, Price," Harris voice 
 broke the silence, "I m going to kill you, and unless you 
 are praying, you re wasting time, and you, too, Holdon. 
 
45 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 If you have any idea an honest God would listen to a 
 dog like you, I d advise you to pray." 
 
 "You don t intend to kill me, Harris?" He s mad, 
 the magnate thought, even as he spoke. "You can handle 
 madmen if you humor them." At that moment, he felt a 
 pinch on his leg, and a hoarse whisper. 
 
 Tush back and duck like I did; I ve got my gun." 
 
 "No use, Price," Harris answered. "You re a fool 
 as well as a knave. I could kill you just as easily now 
 as I could " 
 
 With an oath, Price pushed Holdon s chair back, and 
 as the latter threw up his hands to save himself from 
 falling and thus drew Harris fire, Price got to his feet, 
 but before he could level his gun, Harris had pulled on 
 him with both guns. The ex-superintendent pitched for 
 ward upon the table, his revolver discharging in the air, 
 then slid to the floor. His revolver fell upon a heap of 
 papers upon the table. Holdon lay with his feet en 
 tangled among the rounds of the chair he had sat in 
 but a moment before. The soft lights that had looked 
 down upon the starting of so many successful ventures 
 by this captain of industry lighted up a face made re 
 pulsive by the hand of fear that had written its telltale 
 markings over all others his countenance had worn in 
 life. 
 
 Harris for a time stood with the barrel of one re 
 volver resting upon the table, the other pointed at the 
 body of Price. 
 
 "So you are dead, are you, Price? And you, too, 
 over there with your foot in the air. Well, I said I 
 would; I told God I d do it if He let me live until to 
 night, and it s over with." 
 
 A sigh of infinite sadness drawn from his tortured 
 soul, escaped. His eyes fell upon the revolver that had 
 fallen from Price s nerveless fingers. 
 
 "I wonder if it is loaded? If it is, why didn t he 
 try to " 
 
 He threw the barrel down and the loaded shells were 
 thrown out. While picking them up mechanically, his 
 mind began to shape a way out of the present situa 
 tion. When he entered the suite that night through the 
 secret passage Price had disclosed to him and for which 
 he had furnished the keys he had but one thought 
 
THE PLOTTERS MEET 451 
 
 to kill those two men, then end his own life, and let the 
 world judge when it had read the statement he had writ 
 ten and placed in his pocket. As he stood by the 
 table, he had no thought of flight until in picking up 
 Price s revolver, he had noticed that it was the same 
 caliber as those he had used. Once the possibility of 
 escape dawned upon him, he took up his guns and in 
 feverish haste broke them, extracted the used shells, and 
 thrusting them into Price s revolver, he threw it beside 
 the huddled form on the floor. Hastily gathering the pa 
 pers from the table, he ran to the grate and thrust them 
 in, and as they burned, he extracted from the pockets of 
 both men, all the papers he could discover, and fed the 
 flames with them, and without a glance in the direction 
 of the men upon wham he had taken vengeance, he 
 walked out of the suite, out through that unused office 
 in the next building, down two flights of stairs and was 
 lost in the crowds upon the street. 
 
 As he went down the first flight of steps, after leaving 
 the dark office, a woman, hearing him coming, crouched 
 in a dark corner on the landing below and waited there 
 until she was sure he had reached the street. 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 OUT INTO THE NIGHT. 
 
 Out into the night, Charley Harris sped from the 
 scene of his vengeance a vengeance but half complete. 
 He had burned the plans from which both his and Rob 
 inson s machines had been built, but the machines still 
 existed, and these, too, must be destroyed before his 
 work was completed. 
 
 As he crossed the river on his way to Robinson s 
 shop, lie dropped the moulding compound into the river, 
 muttering: "Much good any machine will do them 
 without that," and hurried on. 
 
 An hour later as he crossed the north branch of the 
 river and turned south to catch a Madison street car 
 west, he heard the clanging of fire gongs and halted as 
 the fire fighters lashed their horses along the way he 
 had just covered. 
 
 "They won t save it," he told himself. "They won t 
 save it I fixed it too well for that." 
 
 He jumped from the car a few blocks below his 
 home and hurried on. His only fear was that Mickey 
 might be there waiting for him. "What would he do 
 if the cripple was there?" The blood madness upon 
 him, he drew one of his revolvers, as he opened the 
 door, and stealthily entered. With the revolver still in 
 hand, he went into the room Mickey had occupied, but 
 the cripple was not there. With a laugh of triumph 
 he thrust the revolver into his pocket and went to search 
 for every scrap of drawing and bit of the machine that 
 might be among his effects. Picking up the first cast 
 ing from the machine built in Holcomb s barn, he kissed 
 and hugged it. 
 
 You are to be broken into a thousand bits, my 
 beauty," he murmured. "Yes, broken like they have 
 broken me, and then the fire will turn you a beautiful 
 red and you ll melt, melt, melt, and drop into hell, a 
 
 452 
 
OUT INTO THE NIGHT 453 
 
 drop at a time, and fasten upon the souls of the men I 
 sent there tonight." 
 
 Tenderly he wrapped the casting in its covering, and 
 gathering the bundle he had prepared, hurried out into 
 the night once more. 
 
 That morning three fires were reported, two of which 
 we can account for. Robinson, seen by a reporter for 
 an afternoon paper, gave the following statement: 
 
 My machine shop was burned by some one who desired to 
 prevent the completion of an automatic moulding machine I 
 was building. Yes, I was interested in the machine, but I 
 am not at liberty at this time to give out the names of the 
 other parties interested with me. I know it was deliberately 
 burned. Since it has cooled off, I have been investigating 
 and have found that the machine I mentioned was first 
 broken up with a heavy sledge. Two men are ready to swear 
 they heard some one using a sledge, but as machine shops 
 often work night shifts they thought nothing of it. Who 
 ever did it was either a machinist, or knew enough to turn 
 on the lights and start some of the machinery, in order to 
 give the appearance of regularity to his infamous work. No, 
 I have not reported it to the other parties. I rather expected 
 to hear from them before this; anyway, I don t want to do 
 anything until I see them; they are prominent and will cer 
 tainly push the investigation. 
 
 In the ruins of the second fire there might have been 
 seen a pile of bent and battered iron and brass lying 
 about midway of the broken walls. To the casual ob 
 server, this pile of iron would not stir the imagination, 
 but could this unmoved observer have looked upon the 
 same metal yesterday as it stood the concrete expression 
 of genius wedded to more than living labor, the contrast 
 would have been enough to stir the slowest blooded on 
 looker. 
 
 The owner of the building did not learn of the de 
 struction of his property until notified by the insurance 
 agency. 
 
 "I know but little of the man who rented from me. 
 He was an inventor and seemed well-to-do. I visited 
 the shop several times to collect rent and always found 
 him busy. He gave me to understand that he was be 
 ing backed by a wealthy man here in the city. No, I 
 haven t seen him to-day ; and the only reason I can ad 
 vance for his not putting in an appearance is that he 
 may have been out of the city last night and has not 
 
454 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 yet returned." The owner and the reporter turned away 
 from the smoking ruins. 
 
 A little before six o clock that morning a man whose 
 hands and face were smirched with oil, rust, and iron 
 dust entered a boarding house in a manufacturing 
 suburb of the great city. 
 
 "Can I get breakfast and a bed?" he inquired. 
 
 "Sure thing; working nights?" the proprietor asked, 
 interested in the possibilities of securing a new boarder. 
 
 "No." The man turned a pair of heavy lidded eyes 
 upon his questioner. 
 
 "Well, you look as though you worked last night," 
 the landlord observed casually. 
 
 "Yes, last night I worked." The newcomer laughed, 
 as he took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves prepara 
 tory to washing. "But I don t do it as a rule. There 
 was a piece of work that had to be done last night and 
 I was sent out." 
 
 "What plant?" 
 
 The man at the wash bowl looked up quickly. "Oh, 
 not here; it was up at Franklin Park. When I got 
 through, they told me I could get a car home from here, 
 but when I hoofed it in here, I made up my mind to 
 rest up until to-night." 
 
 "Oh, that s it; well I guess you .earned a rest all 
 right if you walked down from the Park," the landlord 
 observed and gave his mind to other things. 
 
 That evening shortly after supper, the man who had 
 fixed things at the Park, handed the landlord a silver 
 dollar and with a short good-toy, left the house and drop 
 ped out of the world that had known him as a boy and 
 man. 
 
 When John Smith shook hands with you yesterday, 
 you did not know that he once answered to the name 
 of Clarence Jennings, now did you? When that banker 
 died in Cincinnati a few months ago and it was discov 
 ered that he had at one time in his adventurous life 
 faced a vigilance committee in a western state, and that 
 it had taken three names and fifty years to make him a 
 pillar in the financial world, were you much shocked? 
 
 In Mammon s mills men change their names to fit 
 their needs. And we have come to look upon such ex 
 posures as of little moment. To say that men change 
 
OUT INTO THE NIGHT 455 
 
 their personality, their methods and their ambitions 
 when they change names, might invite a heated argu 
 ment; but I shall insist that some men have changed 
 all of this when they took a new name and went forth 
 into new environments. This I shall insist happened to 
 Charley Harris, when he quitted the boarding house on 
 the outskirts of Chicago and plunged into the darkness 
 of a night that shall hide him from you and all who have 
 known him, until such time as the iron hand of fate 
 shall fall upon his shoulder and the voice of doom shall 
 say, "Thou art the man." 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 FLY BOYO S SUDDEN DEPARTURE. 
 
 When Charley Harris footfalls ceased to sound in 
 the dark halls of the building adjoining "Shifty" 
 Smith s palace, the woman who had crouched in the 
 darkest corner of the second floor landing stepped out 
 and hastily climbed the next flight. Making her way 
 to the door through which Holdon s suite was reached, 
 she groped for the button the owner had had cunningly 
 hidden in the side of the casing for the use of such as 
 she. Time and again, she pressed the button. 
 
 "I wonder has he forgotten?" she whispered, and 
 again tried the button. 
 
 Growing impatient, she tried the door and finding 
 it yielded to her touch, entered the room and went on to 
 the door leading into the Holdon suite. This door was 
 not locked, so boldly and with something of resentment 
 against the man whom she mentally accused of having 
 left those doors open for her in order that he might not 
 be disturbed, Fly Boyd entered and hesitated but a 
 moment before going to the sitting room. As she paus 
 ed at the doorway, she sniffed the powder laden air, 
 then glanced at the grate in which the last flickering 
 flames were issuing from a heap of twisted sheets of 
 paper ash. From where she stood, neither of the bodies 
 were in sight. Yet, into her very bones, there crept the 
 chill of horror. Standing thus in the doorway, she 
 searched out the far corners of the room and question 
 ing the silence, the mystery of it all, was about to flee, 
 when a memory of the man she had heard upon the 
 stairs returned, and gave her courage to investigate. 
 Stepping into the room, the floor on the opposite side 
 of the long table came into view. 
 
 "My God, what is this?" she cried, as staggering to 
 the table, she caught at it for support, her eyes fastened 
 
 456 
 
FLY BOYO S SUDDEN DEPARTURE 457 
 
 upon the body of Holdon lying with the soft light beat 
 ing into its staring eyes. 
 
 "He is dead! Dead! Dead! That man murdered 
 him," she whispered, and began edging along the table 
 to be farther from the body, and in doing so, her eyes 
 fell upon the huddled form of Price lying close up to 
 the table. 
 
 The woman drew back and clasping her hands to 
 her head began to cry. For a little while, she walked 
 back and forth near the doorway through which she 
 had entered, uncertain what to do, whether to go away 
 quietly and allow some one else to discover the tragedy, 
 and thus escape notoriety, or to give the alarm to the 
 police. From thinking of the notoriety that would come 
 to her, and worse, if she should be discovered there, her 
 mind carried her to the conversation she had had with 
 Mamie. Standing where she could see both bodies, 
 she looked long at them, her face hardening, her hands 
 clinched at her sides. 
 
 "Why not, if he s dead, and through with it all, I 
 might just as well." She paused. "Is he dead?" To 
 determine this, it became necessary for her to examine 
 the body. Slowly edging her way around the table, 
 she fell upon her knees beside the body of her lover. 
 "Yes, he s dead," she whispered. "Dead, and I am 
 a widow." Getting to her feet, she ran from the suite, 
 locking the doors behind her. 
 
 ****** 
 
 "Mamie, Mamie, for God s sake, wake up!" 
 
 Fly Boyd stood over her maid s bed, shaking the 
 girl as though her very life depended upon her being 
 awakened instantly. Mamie, awakened, sat bolt up 
 right, rubbing her eyes. 
 
 "Why, Flo what in the world is the house on 
 fire?" she questioned. 
 
 "No, but the world s turned over since you went to 
 sleep," the mistress began and hurried on: "Holdon 
 has been murdered and another man with him." 
 
 "Murdered?" Mamie s eyes were wide. "Murder 
 ed? Flo, you didn t " 
 
 "No, I didn t, you goose. But get up. We re going 
 to pack up and get away just the same." 
 
 The girl looked questioningly at her mistress and 
 
45^ MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 noting the flushed face and nervous twitching lips, was 
 tiut half satisfied. 
 
 "You can tell me the truth, Flo," she insisted. "If 
 you killed him, I know you must have had cause." 
 
 At that, Fly sat on the bed and gave the maid a 
 brief outline of the evening s adventure, concluding: 
 
 "I don t know what put it into my head, but, from 
 thinking of what we had talked over about that Michi 
 gan marriage, I got to thinking of Mickey and his baby ; 
 and the thought struck me that Holdon would be as 
 good a name for the baby as any other, besides, I d be 
 doing Mickey a good turn and have my fingers on two 
 shares of the Holdon estate." 
 
 Mamie, standing at the dresser, turned to stare at 
 the woman sitting upon the edge of the bed. 
 
 "What is the matter, Mamie? You don t seem able 
 to grasp the situation." 
 
 "I don t grasp the part our baby s got to play," 
 Mamie protested, "though I do see where you can hold 
 up the Holdon heirs for a million. Lord, Flo, you must 
 have been born under a lucky star. Just tfiink how 
 they ll come across." 
 
 "And the baby will cinch it. Why, Mamie, can t 
 you see how much stronger it makes my case?" The 
 girl shook her head. "Well, it does. See here you ve 
 got letters from me written from different places in 
 Europe. I ve got the same pen and the same ink I 
 wrote them with. You hunt them up and I ll just drop 
 in a line in each of them, telling about the baby. Let s 
 see, it s about three months; that would bring it about 
 right. Why, Mamie, I can write you how I left babe 
 with the nurse, and went to So-and-So s. There s dead 
 loads of people over there who will swear to anything 
 for a hundred dollars. I can tell you how sorry Mr. 
 Holdon was that he had to go home without us. I 
 Scan -" 
 
 "But you have forgotten Mickey. What s he going 
 to say to all of this ?" 
 
 "Yes, that s the one question; what will Mickey say? 
 Say, Mamie, can you find him at this time of night?" 
 the mistress asked. 
 
 "Why, it s past midnight, but I know where he was 
 
FLY BOYD S SUDDEN DEPARTURE 459 
 
 going to stay to-night. Yes, I can get him if I don t 
 get pinched." 
 
 "When you get pinched, shove some of this at the 
 bull. He ll forget his duty long enough to take the bill 
 to the light." Fly pressed some bills into the girl s 
 hands and with a parting word to her to hurry, sat 
 down to plan her work with Mickey. So absorbing was 
 the theme her mind played with that she was startled 
 when Mamie and Mickey entered her room. 
 
 "What s th matter with th kid?" the visitor de 
 manded. "She," pointing a thumb over his shoulder 
 at Mamie, "is either walkin in her sleep or somethin , 
 she wouldn t say nothin , only youse come erlong. Say, 
 is th kid sick?" 
 
 "No, Mickey, baby s asleep. I I sent for you to 
 tell you I d adopt the baby/ 
 
 "Gee whiz ! is that so ? Say, youse kin git me up in 
 th middle of th night any old time." 
 
 "But, there s a condition, Mickey, that you may not 
 care to agree to." 
 
 Fly, pale and trembling, hesitated to throw the last 
 card in her hand into the scale. Mickey stood before 
 her, his every faculty awake, and noting the woman s 
 hesitancy, he hurriedly replied. 
 
 "They ain t no conditions I won t agree to t see 
 that kid fixed fer life." 
 
 "Are you sure?" the woman asked. 
 
 "Absolute," came the answer. 
 
 "Then you promise to forget anything I ask you to 
 forget about the baby, to remember anything I want you 
 to remember?" 
 
 "Say, quit kiddin me. Ain t I told youse I d do 
 anythin fer th kid er its mother?" he added softly. 
 
 Fly scrutinized him so closely that he became rest 
 less. 
 
 "Say, what sort oi a lay-out is this, hey? I ain t 
 used to bein got up in th middle of th night jist fer 
 ladies to set an make eyes at me." He shifted from 
 one foot to the other. 
 
 "Mickey, I don t know how to tell you the story so 
 you will understand it, and unless you do and will agree 
 to help me, why, I can t adopt the baby." 
 
 "Well, fer God s sake; what s the use ov me sayin 
 
460 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 it agin? Ain t I sed fire away; I m yours truly?" 
 
 "Yes, I know, but there are so many " she paused. 
 "Say, Mickey, you know the baby s got to have a name." 
 As he nodded, she went on hurriedly: "There s only 
 one name I could give her, and that s Holdon." 
 
 The cripple jumped as though shot. 
 
 "Who ever put youse next," he quavered. 
 
 "No one put me next to anything, only if I adopt 
 her, she s to be called Estella Marie Holdon." 
 
 Mickey sat down limp as a rag. Finally he looked 
 
 U ?V 
 
 "Fly Boyd, are you th devil, or am I dreamin ?" he 
 
 demanded soberly. 
 
 "Neither, Mickey ; we were discussing a pretty name 
 for our baby." 
 
 "An youse don t know nothin bout th kid ceptin 
 what I told youse?" 
 
 "No; how could I?" she questioned, puzzled at the 
 change which had come over her visitor. 
 
 "An youse, with nobody tellin youse nuthin bout 
 th kid cept wha/t I tells, wants t call it Steller Holdon ?" 
 His eyes big with wonder at it all, he stood clasping and 
 unclasping his ,hands. 
 
 "Yes, Estella Marie Holdon." 
 
 "Then they is a God!" he exclaimed. "They is a 
 God, an I won t " 
 
 "What in the world has my naming the baby got to 
 do with God?" 
 
 "Heaps ! heaps !" he answered. "Jist go ahead an* 
 call her that an I ll swear it s her name, an I ought 
 t know, I ought t know !" His voice sank to a whis 
 per as he put a hand on Fly s arm and nodded his ap 
 proval. 
 
 The woman before him, relieved of her fear, plung 
 ed into the story of what she had seen in Holdon s 
 suite. Only once was she interrupted. 
 
 "I knows who let th daylight into them devils, 
 an I seen youse go up them stairs an shadowed th 
 joint till th man as done fer them come down but I 
 lost him," oame from Mickey, but that was all, and 
 the woman could not induce him to say another word. 
 
 It was four o clock when Mickey left the house with 
 instructions to secure a ticket for New York and take the 
 
FLY BOYD S SUDDEN DEPARTURE 461 
 
 first train. He had agreed readily enough when Fly 
 laid her plans before him. Mamie was to go to a woman 
 whom Fly had befriended many times and giving the 
 baby into her care send them to New York by a round 
 about way, that morning, if possible. In the afternoon, 
 Fly was to start for the same city. Arrived there, 
 they were to take up quarters in a good hotel and 
 await news from Chicago. 
 
 Mickey turned at the door. "I don t know as I kin 
 go," he began in a hesitating voice. "Youse see, if th 
 man I thinks done fer them skunks last night, I ought 
 t stay an try t help him >he don t know no more n a 
 rabbit bout th mertropolis, an is jist as like as anything 
 t run right into a bull th first thing. I guess " 
 
 "But the baby, Mickey? We must get this business 
 fixed." 
 
 "Yep, I guess youse is right, an after this here night, 
 Fly Boyd," he paused with lifted hand, "I ain t never 
 goin t say a word against God ; I had some doubts which 
 was nacheral, seein as how I bin bumped, but I m all 
 right now." 
 
 When he was gone and Mamie had started on her 
 mission, Fly Boyd sat down to ponder over the [conduct 
 of Mickey. 
 
 "I wonder will I ever learn what it is behind -this 
 baby s coming into the world that he guards so closely? 
 What did he mean anyway?" she asked, then gave her 
 mind to the part she had set herself to play. 
 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE HUE AND CRY. 
 
 Holdon never permitted the keys to his suite above 
 "Shifty" Smith s palace to remain in the hands of a 
 janitor or care-taker. When he was in town, the woman 
 who took care of the suite was summoned by phone and 
 the owner remained in the apartments until they were 
 in order, or if it was inconvenient for him to be present, 
 his agent, Price, had to oversee the work. Price was 
 well content with this arrangement, as it gave him un 
 disturbed possession of the suite whenever Holdon was 
 out of the city. 
 
 When Price had finally secured possession of Harris, 
 he had planned to have the latter do all his drafting in 
 this suite in order that he might have access to the work 
 when Harris was at the shop. With this in view, he 
 had shown Harris the secret entrance and supplied him 
 with keys. Later, when Harris insisted that he could 
 work on his drawings to better advantage in the quiet 
 of his own rooms, or at the shop, Price had not asked 
 that he return the keys, either because he feared to anger 
 the mechanic or because he was too much occupied with 
 his schemes to give thought to so small an item. 
 
 The third day of her father s absence came and with 
 it brought a great fear to Beatrice and her aunt. Never 
 before had the father left the city without telling the 
 family when and where he was going. 
 
 Til call up Mr. Price. He will know. I m sorry I 
 did not do it yesterday." 
 
 "Or the night before, when your father did not come 
 home," the aunt added. 
 
 Central reported that Mr. Price could not be gotten 
 on the wire and was asked to ring again. Finally the 
 girl gave up. 
 
 "Aunt, you don t suppose they have got track of Joel 
 and were so excited they forgot to tell us when they 
 left?" 
 
 462 
 
THE HUE AND CRY 463 
 
 "Oh, dear, don t ask me what a man does or why he 
 does it. When you are as old as I you will have learned 
 that it isn t the women who will, and do as they will, 
 and that s the end of it it s these men." 
 
 "But that doesn t help me now, really," the girl pro 
 tested. "I am anxious oh, I know what I ll do I ll 
 call up Martin." 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Martin. What is that? Not for three 
 days? Price yes, this is Miss Holdon. Wait a min 
 ute. What plans did father discuss with me? The last 
 things he said? That he would go to the Art Institute 
 with me yesterday afternoon. Not a word about leaving 
 town? No, nothing about Joel. He would have told 
 me." 
 
 The detective hung up the receiver and scowled at 
 his reflection in the mirror. "Not like Holdon at all," 
 he informed the reflection. "Now, I wonder if he s got 
 somebody else on the trail of that good-for-nothing 
 scamp, and they ve put up a strong con talk and carried 
 him off on a wild goose chase. Well," he concluded, 
 "I m under instructions from the house to hunt him up, 
 so here goes." 
 
 Price s rooms were visited. The janitor and care 
 taker both insisted that the lodger had not been home 
 for three days. Had he left the city? Would they open 
 his apartments? There was fear of foul play. This 
 suggestion added solely for effect. The apartments were 
 opened and proved beyond a doubt that the lodger had 
 not purposed going out of the city when he left them. 
 
 Next Martin visited Holdon s attorneys. Fanchett, 
 the senior member of the firm, was all attention in an 
 instant. 
 
 "Did you see the report of the fire on the North 
 Side?" he asked, hastily taking down a file of papers. 
 
 "No, what fire ?" the detective inquired ; then added. 
 "I don t get the connection." 
 
 "Then read that. Of course, it is understood that 
 what I tell you is confidential, and when you have found 
 Holdon my name is not to be used." 
 
 "Why, that goes without saying," Martin replied, 
 promptly. "You are his attorney, I am his detective, and 
 if the truth was out, I suspect we would both discover 
 
464 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 that some things we each think is known to no one else, 
 is known as well by the other." 
 
 The lawyer smiled and handed over the paper. Mar 
 tin read the interview Robinson had given. 
 
 "Say, this doesn t look good," he announced. 
 
 "Why?" Fanchett asked. 
 
 "Because I know a story, but this is no time to teli 
 it. The thing I ve got to do is to find Holdon." 
 
 "Have you inquired at the Eagle?" 
 
 "Yes, but there s one place I have not visited/ 
 
 "On Monroe street?" 
 
 The detective nodded. 
 
 "Then it s the next place to visit," Fanchett advised, 
 and added: "I will call up a couple of men who weit 
 with him that afternoon. Oh, by the way, do you know 
 a certain woman on Michigan avenue?" 
 
 "Yes, I know her but she s not in town." 
 
 "Well, if there isn t anything doing on Monrot 
 street, go to her place, it s your next best lead." 
 
 A look of comprehension passed, and Martin said 
 at parting: "If it isn t asking too much, would you 
 mind staying here where I can get you on the wire, say 
 for an hour?" 
 
 A half hour lated Fanchett was called to the phone. 
 An agitated voice at the other end said: 
 
 "Go down to the Eagle go as fast as you can. I m 
 at Shifty Smith s I ve got to see you, and for God s 
 sake hurry." 
 
 Fanchett ran out of the office, hailed a cab and hur 
 ried to the Eagle club. 
 
 What did that urgent message mean? Was it death 
 he heard in the detective s strained voice? That wom 
 an. How often he had pleaded with his client to quit 
 her, even if it cost him half his fortune to do it quietly 
 
 Martin met him at the entrance and without a wora. 
 hurried him upstairs. 
 
 "Well," the lawyer sat down. 
 
 "Hell," the detective fairly threw the word from 
 him. 
 
 "Out with it." 
 
 "Then it s murder and suicide." 
 
 "Not the woman !" 
 
 "No, no woman ; Price killed him." 
 
THE HUE AND CRY 465 
 
 "My God, man, not Price, his agent?" 
 
 "Yes, Price. Mr. Fanchett, I stayed there long 
 enough to make up my mind God, I shall never forget 
 it. They have been there dead in that warm room three 
 days at least." 
 
 The lawyer got up. "Martin, you say Price killed 
 him; you infer that he then took his own life?" 
 
 "I would swear to it ; the doors were locked ; the two 
 had been discussing the machine ; I found evidence of 
 that, the one Robinson says was broken up before his 
 shop was fired." 
 
 "But, Martin, we must act now, at once. But how? 
 How? Let me think." 
 
 "That s what I wanted you for. I locked the doors 
 and left things just as I found them." He shuddered. 
 
 "You were right, Martin. Now, you will go and 
 tell the chief, then phone to Black s. Ask the chief to 
 send two good men with you and tell him we mention 
 our firm, Martin tell him we don t want the papers to 
 get at this until we have had time to prepare a state 
 ment. Tell Black s to send a trusted man to our office 
 at once ; make it strong, Martin. Then you and the two 
 men go in at the back and T will phone you when we 
 will arrive. I I must see this thing, though God knows 
 I would rather see anything else in the world. But I must 
 see it. I can t believe Price killed him. He was too 
 much of a coward. We need to go slow, Martin; God 
 alone knows what complications may arise out of this 
 this double murder." 
 
 Two hours later Fanchett s office was besieged by a 
 dozen hungry newspaper men. Fanchett had assured the 
 first to scent out the tragedy, that a statement would be 
 given the press at 3 130 p. m., and with this the repre 
 sentatives of the near-decent papers had to be satisfied. 
 Those who represented the unscrupulous, scare-head 
 hunters had rushed into print with half pages given to 
 blood curdling stories, alleging for cause the full gamut 
 of crime, from gaming to women. 
 
 Inside, Martin, the chief of police and the three mem 
 bers of the firm had been struggling to get a statement 
 in shape for the press. Fanchett alone, of those who had 
 examined the bodies and their immediate surroundings, 
 held out against accepting the murder and suicide 
 
466 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 theory. The time was almost up, nothing had been 
 settled. A clerk tip-toed into the room. 
 
 "Judge Terwill wants a word with you gentlemen; 
 he says he can give you some light." 
 
 "Tell him to come in," Fanchett ordered, and added : 
 "We ve got to let that pack in pretty soon." 
 
 The judge, haggard and depressed, told the story of 
 the meeting at which Holdon had publicly insulted his 
 agent, and stated further that a porter at the Eagle had 
 heard Holdon tell Price over the phone that he expected 
 him, Price, to meet him at his apartments and settle up 
 something or other. When the judge had finished, Fan 
 chett surrendered, and the other members of the firm 
 voted that he should make the statement for the press. 
 
 Martin left the office after the last reporter had been 
 satisfied, himself dissatisfied with the evidence he had 
 but a short while ago accepted as final. 
 
 ****** 
 
 In the palatial home of the Holdon family there was 
 greater grief locked in the heart of one woman that 
 night than she had ever thought it possible to bear. 
 
 "Oh, aunt," she sobbed, "only to think that he was 
 murdered in a quarrel over money over money, when 
 we had so much of it." 
 
 "Much or little, it s all the same," Aunt Nell replied, 
 philosophically. "Men and women never get enough so 
 that they won t quarrel over the next dollar they see." 
 
 "But think think of him lying there three days, 
 and we did not think enough of him " 
 
 "Beatrice, why should you say that? You know we 
 worried from the first, but we thought some business had 
 called him away; be just to yourself. You will need to 
 be strong and you are not going to help matters by ex 
 aggerating either side, his or yours." 
 
 "I know, I know, auntie, but what am I to do? They 
 are not going to bring father home until to-morrow and 
 I cannot live through this night. I cannot, I can 
 not!" 
 
 "There, there, dear, cry, cry hard. Do anything, but 
 try to think. If you could have your Socialist stoic with 
 you now, he might help you." 
 
 This last was thrown out by Aunt Nell in the hope 
 that Beatrice would resent it, and great was that lady s 
 
THE HUE AND CRY 467 
 
 astonishment when the girl threw her arms about her 
 neck and cried: 
 
 "I do want him I do, I do. Won t you send for 
 him ; tell him I am in trouble." 
 
 "Beatrice!" the aunt exclaimed in horror. "What 
 would your friends thing of such a thing, of all " 
 
 "I don t care; I want to talk to him if only for a 
 minute." 
 
 "I won t " 
 
 "But, you suggested it," the girl protested; "and if 
 you don t send for him, I ll go " 
 
 "Gracious heavens, child, have you there, there, I ll 
 send Honore over." 
 
 "Send Honore up to my room. I m going up now." 
 The girl tottered from the room and left a much per 
 plexed aunt staring after her. 
 
 When Bulman received the note Beatrice had given 
 Honore for him, he was sitting on his doorstep reading a 
 third edition, alleging additional and startling informa 
 tion relative to the "Holdon Murder," this additional in 
 formation consisted of an interview from Mr. Abner 
 of the Holdon Company, relating his suspicions as to the 
 cause of the murder. 
 
 "Hurry right back, Miss, and tell Miss Holdon I will 
 be over as soon as I can change clothes : I ve been tinker 
 ing around home, you know." 
 
 And over he went to be ushered into the great library 
 by as sour a visaged body as ever attempted to divide 
 her face between two expressions. Beatrice got to her 
 feet as John was ushered in, the aunt following. 
 
 "Mr. Bulman, this is kind," she began, and that in 
 stant found both her trembling hands clasped in the 
 hands of a wholesome man whose very person radiated 
 sympathy. 
 
 "Don t say a word, Miss Holdon, not a word! How 
 many times have you gone to Robert and others with 
 your sweet presence and cheered them when they 
 thought there was nothing left to life but death and 
 ashes?" 
 
 "Oh, I am so glad you came. I was so afraid you 
 would not." She looked past the man and seeing the 
 look of disgust on her aunt s face, said to that lady: 
 "Auntie, I want to talk to Mr. Bulman alone." 
 
468 MILLS OF MAMM0N 
 
 Aunt Nell bowed, and with one swift glance at the 
 man, hurried from the room. 
 
 "You have you know that my father was killed in 
 a quarrel over money." The girl sank back into a chair, 
 and John, pulling another up facing her, answered: 
 
 "I know your father was murdered, but, Miss Hoi- 
 don, you must not allow your mind to dwell upon the 
 causes any one may assign as a reason for his death at 
 the hands of another man. You and I know he is dead. 
 And you know he was a good father. But, out in the 
 world there are a hundred men who will make money, 
 or hope to, by giving some sort of story to the press. 
 Then there are others who may attempt to get money 
 through attacking his honor " 
 
 "Oh, do you think so? Do you think they will? 
 Isn t this this enough?" she protested. 
 
 "Yes, more than enough, little woman, but it is apt to 
 be just as I have stated, and I am telling you this now, 
 at this hour, in order that your pride may arm you 
 against a weakness that might be fatal." 
 
 "Yes, and then?" 
 
 "And then," he replied, measuring his words, "your 
 father s memory, your memory of him, the things the 
 world is to believe of him, will depend upon your brav 
 ery, your ability to meet every issue fairly, and fight for 
 your father s good name against those who are to-day 
 making bread and butter out of the senseless lies they 
 mix with a bit of probability and feed a morbid public 
 through the columns of a filthy press." 
 
 "And you think I shall have to fight for my father s 
 good name?" There was nothing of tears, rather re 
 sentment in her voice as she went on. "Mr. Bulman, I 
 know you did not like " 
 
 "No, no, Miss Holdon," he protested, earnestly, 
 "don t, I pray you, don t think I carry my warfare be 
 yond the fair limits of an honest fight in the open. What 
 I am telling you is not necessarily based upon anything I 
 know or even suspect, but rather on the experience of 
 the families of other rich men who have died without 
 having had time to gather up the loose ends of their 
 many interests. You may, and I hope to God you will, 
 escape all of this, but if you value your father s honor 
 above the money, the property he had, and I know you 
 
THE HUE AND CRY 469 
 
 do, then this is not a time for weeping; rather it is a 
 time for gathering all of your reserve force to meet and 
 master the problem this tragedy has brought into your 
 life." 
 
 "I I am glad and sorry you have told me this ; isn t 
 it enough for one day to learn this awful thing?" she 
 asked with a pathetic quiver in her voice, as she looked 
 into the worker s face. 
 
 "More than enough, more than enough, but, little 
 woman, the whole load is really lighter than any part of 
 it, and may be carried more easily to-day than to-mor 
 row; for if you give way to-day to the grief common 
 to all of us when death comes to ore we love, and to-mor 
 row some one attempts to put upon you another burden, 
 you will find that you are already spent, that you cannot 
 meet and conquer these things one at a time, as they 
 spring upon you out of the dark. I cannot bring com 
 fort to your sore heart, no one may do that, and the 
 things most people will say to comfort, you you will find 
 unbearable, weakening, enervating. The thing I want 
 to do for you is to make your pride arm you against 
 every outside influence, make you true to yourself, your 
 splendid womanhood, your clean heart, your best thought 
 of your father. If I can do this, you will not cry What 
 shall I do, what can I do? ; you will look life and "its 
 added responsibilities square between the eyes and fight 
 for " he hesitated. 
 
 "For my father s honor," she answered for him, and 
 added : "You have accomplished one thing I did not be 
 lieve possible of accomplishment. You have driven 
 weakness from me ; yes, and armed me." She sat silent 
 a moment watching him, then asked: "Do you believe 
 my father was dishonorable?" 
 
 Bulman met both her question and her narrowing 
 eyes fairly as he replied: 
 
 "What I may have believed of your father has been 
 swallowed up in the respect I have for his daughter, 
 and as your friend I have forgotten anything and every 
 thing I ever knew or thought or heard about him. The 
 only thing I know to-day in this relation is that prac 
 tically every rich man has hundreds of secret enemies, 
 that there are besides as many more professional black 
 mailers and parasites who are ready, for the sake of 
 
47O MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 profit, to suck honor out of a dead saint even though to 
 do it they are forced to paint their own souls as black as 
 the unlighted depths of hell. I know, too, that few men 
 of great wealth die without members of their own fam 
 ilies being found who gladly give aid and comfort to the 
 hell s pack who are turned loose to rend and tear the 
 mantle of honor the dead has left to the care of the 
 living. I know this, Miss Holdon, and while I hope you 
 may be spared, as a friend who has something of more 
 worth to offer than tears and the maudlin miscalled 
 sympathy of the friends one tries to shun in such hours 
 as these, I come to you and ask you to justify my high 
 est opinion of your womanhood, your courage, by being 
 brave. And to be brave is to let your soul weep for your 
 love while your heart stands at the door to your home 
 armed against a hungry, wolfishly hungry, world of 
 self-seekers." 
 
 When he had finished, Beatrice sat silently regarding 
 the flickering play of the gas flames in the grate. So 
 long she sat thus dry-eyed, with a hand upon either arm 
 of her chair, that Bulman arose. Thinking he had of 
 fended beyond pardon, he was cudgeling his brain for 
 some word to say before leaving, when she turned her 
 face, resolute, calm and purposeful, to him. 
 
 "I did you grievous wrong," she began, motioning 
 him to his seat, but he shook his head and stood cap in 
 hand. "A grievous wrong," she repeated, "and if I can, 
 I want to atone for it ; I have been thinking, and in the 
 few minutes I have sat here, a host of men and women 
 have gone in and out my mind. They each have had a 
 story. I never realized what each one of these stories 
 must have meant to the woman who sat as I sit to-day, 
 with death in her heart. I never thought how these 
 stories of crime, of secret marriage, of other lines of 
 social sin, of business dishonor must have wrung the 
 hearts of those who loved. I know now. I know and I 
 shall do my best to be worthy the confidence you place 
 in me." 
 
 "Mr. Fanchett, Miss Holdon," a muffled voice at the 
 doorway repeated the announcement, and John, taking 
 the girl s hand in his, said: 
 
 "I know you will be brave, and you know I will do 
 anything in my power to aid you." 
 
THE HUE AND CRY 471 
 
 The lawyer came through the doorway as John left 
 the room. 
 
 "Miss Holdon," he began, "I am glad that I am not 
 the bearer of our sad news." 
 
 She wtlcomed him, and inviting him to be seated, 
 awaited his message. 
 
 "I would not have come to you thjs evening, but, 
 well, after office hours Mr. Sample Mr. Sample is a 
 very estimable gentleman, and a member of a reputable 
 firm of attorneys. As I said " he looked at the girl and 
 noted a heightened color, and a strange brightness in her 
 eyes "as I said, Miss Holdon, Mr. Sample came to me 
 he had just received a telegram from New York ask 
 ing him, no, instructing him, to take charge of a very 
 ahem a very important case against the estate, and he 
 asked me for a plain, straightforward answer. Would 
 we listen to his client with a view to a a settlement out 
 of court, or would we fight?" Fanchett pulled a hand 
 kerchief from his pocket, but forgot tfie purpose for 
 which he had extracted it, when Beatrice asked: 
 
 "And what is this case?" 
 
 "Well, well, now Miss Holdon, I only came to you as 
 a matter of form. You see, I told him I d have to see 
 you before I gave him a final answer, and, anyway, I 
 wanted time to telegraph to Battle Creek and get a re 
 ply, all of which I did, and as I said, I came to you a a 
 matter of form. In fact, I came so that, however thrs 
 case may go, we could say we consulted our client, for 
 you are now our client, you know." 
 
 Still holding the handkerchief, Fanchett remembered 
 his purpose and blew vigorously. 
 
 "Yes, to have everything ship-shape. I told him I 
 would have to see you. He grumbled a lot, said the pa 
 pers would give a lot for the release of the story " 
 
 "What story?" the girl demanded, and as she asked 
 the words of Bulman: "A hundred secret enemies and 
 as many blackmailers and parasites," flashed before 
 her. 
 
 "Why, the story tha your father ; now my dear 
 young lady don t faint, or or " 
 
 "For heaven s sake, tell me! Do you think I am 
 made of iron?" 
 
MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "Well, well, I beg your pardon, but coming as it has 
 immediately " 
 
 Beatrice was on her feet and one of them was stamp 
 ing, even before his lips formed the words : 
 
 "Tell me and have done." 
 
 Fanchctt squared his shoulders, shot a look, not un 
 mixed with wonder, from underneath his bushy brows. 
 
 "Well, the story is this: Your father was married 
 to a Miss Wieboldt in Battle Creek, Mich., a little over 
 a year ago, and his wife is now in New York with her 
 baby. That s the story, and while I will admit the case 
 against the estate looks strong " 
 
 "What do they, she and the lawyers want?" 
 
 There was another look shot at the girl, this time of 
 growing wonder and appreciation. 
 
 "They want us to agree to meet for conference. 
 Otherwise they will give the story to the papers and at 
 tempt to make their case in the courts/ 
 
 "And your advice is " she paused. 
 
 "Why, my advice is to fight. Of course, they would 
 put their strongest cards in the hand they snowed us to 
 day, but things are not always just as good as they look. 
 Besides, a conference means that we recognize that they 
 may have have well, have a fighting chance. And as 
 senior counsel of our firm, after conference with the 
 other members, I came to lay the case before you, in the 
 absence of your brother, and strongly urge that you sanc 
 tion our going ahead with a searching investigation, and 
 as good a defense as we can put up. Of course, it is 
 probable she will get " 
 
 "What is due her," Beatrice answered for him. "And 
 you will tell her attorney that the day after the funeral, 
 
 if she will attend " Yes, there was a dry little sob, 
 
 but she went on. "Tell her attorney I shall not set the 
 time of the funeral until I hear from " 
 
 "But, my dear girl, this is madness. Why, we have 
 put Martin and another man on the case; surely you 
 don t mean " 
 
 "I menn to defend my father s honor if it takes the 
 whole of his property, and then " 
 
 "But, I must protest. If all these unmarried widows 
 of rich men no offense Miss Holdon if all of them, a 
 tenth part of them, got their dues " 
 
THE HUE AND CRY 473 
 
 He was interrupted. Beatrice had walked the length 
 of the room and as she turned back, said : 
 
 "You will please recall your detectives and give this 
 woman s attorney the assurance he asks. If she is not 
 iny father s wife, we can prove her falsity without hav 
 ing another full page in every newspaper in the country. 
 If she is my -father s wife, she shall have her rightful 
 place here." 
 
 "But I protest." 
 
 "And I insist. You will either carry out my wishes 
 in this matter to the letter or you may prepare to turn 
 my father s interests over to " 
 
 Fanchett did not wait for her to finish. 
 
 "Your wishes are law, Miss Holdon, law, as binding 
 upon me as the laws of the Medes and Persians were 
 upon the subjects of that kingdom, but I trust they may 
 not be as unchangeable." 
 
 Bowing himself out he was met in the front hall by 
 Aunt Nell. 
 
 "Well, sir, did you see him ?" she inquired. 
 
 "No, I saw her," the lawyer replied, shortly. 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 MR. ABNER PREPARES TO GIVE BATTLE. 
 
 The morning after Moses Webster s interview with 
 Mr. Abner, that gentleman had regained his wonted calm 
 and dignified hold upon the forces he guided in the bat 
 tle for business. For a time the young man s denuncia 
 tion weighed upon him, even after business hours, but he 
 threw it off, much in the same manner the first murderer 
 is said to have attempted to lay the foundations for an 
 alibi with his God. 
 
 "A lot he knows about business, and less about those 
 rabid unionists, I guess, or religion. Now that was a 
 queer notion he had, another freakish outcropping of the 
 golden-rule-in-business idea. Well, I ll have to let him 
 go ; it wouldn t do to keep him on, after what happened 
 to-day." This as he lay courting sleep. 
 
 When he arrived at the office he took a hasty look in 
 the direction of Moses desk, and seeing that young man 
 with his face boring into his books, he passed on hurried 
 ly. Entering his office, the secretary and timekeeper 
 were summoned. Orders were issued that Moses Web 
 ster s name should leave the payroll that night. 
 
 The secretary, a good friend of Webster s, was much 
 perturbed, and reluctantly went about his task. In the 
 end, he returned to his office wondering how a young 
 man with a family could take a discharge without notice 
 so coolly. The news spreading through the office build 
 ing, that the confidential clerk had been "fired," not a 
 few offered condolence. To all, Moses had but one 
 reply, 
 
 "Yes, I got what the boys call the can/ and am going 
 to quit the city." 
 
 Abner had hardly finished with Moses when he sent 
 word to Moran that he was wanted in the office. The 
 foreman responded without a thought of what impended. 
 
 "Mr, Moran," Abner began, after he had kept the 
 474 
 
MR. ABNER PREPARES TO GIVE BATTLE 475 
 
 foreman waiting, cap in hand a full ten minutes. "I 
 have read your report on the loss of that twenty-ton 
 casting last Tuesday; I have also examined the reports 
 of the moulders and furnace men, handed in by the as 
 sistant superintendent." He paused, took up a packet of 
 long envelopes and began leisurely to examine them. 
 
 "And I hope I made it plain in my report that we 
 have had a less percentage of loss on both light and 
 heavy work than the average plant using a like equip 
 ment," Moran spoke confidently. 
 
 "I noticed that you sought to convey that impression, 
 but it don t satisfy me. I mean, I am not running this 
 business on other men s averages. If other employers 
 keep incompetent help, that s their lookout. I want the 
 work done in this plant to count. And that on the right 
 side of the ledger. Take this piece of work, under your 
 direct supervision, and all the time used in producing 
 that cast and all the time it has taken to break it up is 
 just so much dead loss." 
 
 "But, Mr. Abner, there never was a moulder who 
 didn t lose work; and your assistant superintendent told 
 me the figure given on those four castings was made to 
 cover the loss of one and still leave the usual profit." 
 
 "And if the one had not blown out, the profit would 
 have been that much greater," the employer finished, 
 tapping the desk. 
 
 "I am sure I selected the very best men in the 
 shop " 
 
 "And this is the result," Abner exclaimed, triumph 
 antly. "This is the result." 
 
 "No, sir, it did not result from any fault of the men." 
 
 "Then you admit the fault was yours?" 
 
 "Yes, if it is a fault to obey the orders of a superior, 
 it was my fault." 
 
 "That will do, Mr. Moran ; that will do. I want a 
 foreman in your department who is less apt to make mis 
 takes, nnd one, sir, who when he does make a mistake, 
 will not attempt to " 
 
 "If I may finish that sentence for you, Mr. Abner, I 
 shall be a thousand times obliged to you. You want to 
 fire me and have labored over a very poor excuse, at 
 great length." Moran walked over to the president s 
 
476 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 desk and looked down on that little man with a righteous 
 wrath burning through his blackened face. 
 
 Abner looked up quickly, wondering was he in for 
 another tongue lashing, and mixed with that query in his 
 mind was another. What sort of men were these he was 
 dealing with? Aloud he said: 
 
 "The reasonableness of the excuse must rest with 
 me; you could hardly be expected to admit its justice, 
 but, you did finish what I had to say to you. To-night 
 you will be relieved of your duties as foreman. If you 
 care to go on the floor as a moulder, I will see what can 
 be done." 
 
 "No, thanks, I know when I ve had enough/* 
 
 With these words, the foreman left the room and 
 went back to his work. 
 
 "I was a fool to let him go back among the men; I 
 should have fired him on the spot. The next one won t 
 fare so well." Mr. Abner jammed his pen into the shot 
 and scowled at the calendar. 
 
 Yancey took the news to John Bulman shortly before 
 noon, having got it straight from Carson. 
 
 "I have been looking for it," was John s comment. 
 
 "And I haven t. Why, man alive, the plant is almost 
 solidly union and the boys were getting ready to make 
 a demand for a closed shop all the way through." 
 
 "And he knew it." John laid a hand on Yancey s 
 arm. "You haven t been in this fight long enough to 
 know all its ins and outs. He knows almost as much 
 about the work of the unions as we do not all of the la 
 bor spies are men sent from a regular spy furnishing 
 agency. Right here in this room there are at least two 
 men, members of our union, who are supplying Abner s 
 assistant superintendent with every thread of informa 
 tion they manage to pick up at our meetings or from 
 the men." 
 
 "I can hardly believe it, John. How could a man at 
 your elbow, who called you brother, and accepted the 
 material advantages the organization gives him, consent 
 to play so mean a part?" 
 
 "God only knows, I don t; but I do know there are 
 such whelps in practically every labor organization." 
 
 "Well, that being the case, I suppose I m billed out," 
 Yancey replied, resignedly, just as Wilson came up. 
 
MR. ABNER PREPARES TO GIVE BATTLE 477 
 
 "Hello, Yancey. He turned to John. "Hear about 
 Moran getting the boots put to him, John?" The new 
 arrival looked anxious. 
 
 "Yes, I guess it s not news any longer," John an 
 swered. 
 
 A man working near Yancey s office called out : "Oh, 
 Yancey, the phone," and the word was passed along. 
 
 Yancey came back where John and Wilson were en 
 gaged in an animated conversation. John smiled as he 
 looked into the foreman s big, square- jawed, honest 
 face. 
 
 "Now, what?" he questioned. 
 
 "We are both invited to the office," Yancey replied, 
 and Wilson whistled. 
 
 "Guess you were right, John. Maybe I better get 
 back so as to answer my call when he s through with 
 you. Say, won t there be a little piece of something tore 
 off here if this keeps on?" 
 
 "If what keeps on?" The assistant superintendent, 
 a slim, lean-faced Pittsburg importation, had slipped 
 up behind the three. Wilson whirled on him. 
 
 "This slippery weather," he answered, and strode 
 away. 
 
 When Yancey and Bulman faced Abner, he said: 
 
 "I called you men in together because I understand 
 that you," his pencil pointed to Yancey, "have not made a 
 protest against this man s inflammatory utterances 
 among the hands. I have had any number of complaints 
 from the decent men in your department, and I have 
 waited, Mr. Yancey, to hear of your taking this matter 
 up, as I certainly expected you would." Yancey bowed 
 slightly, while John, remembering his experience at 
 Nixon s, sat smiling. 
 
 "Well, what have you to say, Mr. Yancey? You cer 
 tainly knew this man had been engaged in stirring up 
 discontent among our hands. In fact, I have it on what 
 seems to be quite good authority that you have listened 
 to his anarchistic mouthings, and " 
 
 "Will you allow me to say a word, Mr. Abner? It 
 may simplify matters a great deal," John added explana 
 tion to question and awaited a reply. 
 
 "I I would much prefer to settle the matter under 
 discussion with Mr. Yancey ; he ought to be able to" 
 
MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 "Hang himself," John blurted out, "because he hap 
 pens to be a friend of mine and would neither lie nor 
 state the truth in a way to hurt my feelings." 
 
 Yancey looked his gratitude and was on the point of 
 answering, when Bulman went on: 
 
 "Mr. Abner, you do not need to mince words nor 
 frame up excuses in order to get rid of me. I am only 
 a hand here, and you would not need to call me into your 
 office ; you didn t call me in on my own account, did you ? 
 Of course not; Yancey is the man you are after oh, 
 yes, you want me, too, but it s Yancey you want now. 
 But I m going to tell you that you ll have to hunt some 
 other excuse. Yancey is not a Socialist; he doesn t be 
 lieve in anything political, but your dear Republican 
 party. As for his listening to me, I will have to admit 
 that he has, but he nor any other man ever heard me talk 
 Socialism during work hours, and this foreman of yours, 
 happening to be one of the few old line partyites who 
 still believes in political liberty and free speech, has lis 
 tened to me and been very much disgusted with my ar 
 guments; still he listened. Now, if you can convince 
 him that it is necessary to the preservation of the Ameri 
 can democracy for all workers to surrender their politi 
 cal convictions at the door to your plant, why, without 
 doubt, he will see to it that I am the last disrupter ever 
 allowed in his department." 
 
 When John had finished, Mr. Abner straightened up. 
 
 "Your flippancy will not save you, my man, and I 
 am inclined to think I might dispense with your pres 
 ence, that is, if Mr. Yancey can get along without his 
 attorney;" the sneer that accompanied the thrust made 
 Yancey wince, but John just sat and smiled. 
 
 "Well, sir, do I have to repeat my desire that you 
 leave?" the president demanded, well-nigh beside him 
 self with anger, as he observed Bulman s cool demeanor. 
 
 "But you certainly have forgotten something, Mr. 
 Abner," John insisted. 
 
 "I will forget " 
 
 "And I would remind," John laughed. "Remind you 
 that you have not disposed of me. To allow me to re 
 turn to the machine shop with my case in its present 
 status might mean a further contamination of your vir 
 tuous, patriotic help. And if I quit this room without 
 
MR. ABNER PREPARES TO GIVE BATTLE 479 
 
 first having been discharged, my duty to you, my em 
 ployer, would leave me no choice but to return to the 
 work I left unfinished. This being the case, Mr. Abner, 
 don t you think it would be best for you to have one of 
 the tale-bearers from the shop and another good safe 
 man accompany me and see to it that T pack my kit and 
 get out without attempting to blow anybody or anything 
 up?" 
 
 Yancey, in deep water himself, could not hide the 
 grin that spread over his face as he watched the two 
 men. John, cool, good humored, and in every way mas 
 ter of the situation, facing a little man on nettles and 
 plainly showing his discomfort. When John had finish 
 ed, he stood hat in hand waiting the decision of his em 
 ployer. The last named gentleman fumbled among some 
 loose papers on his desk, coughed and made up his 
 mind. Taking a speaking tube from its holder, he call 
 ed, "Williams, Williams," and waited. 
 
 Williams entered and without looking up, Abner 
 said: "Williams, go out with this man and see that he 
 gets his tools and other traps. As you go out, tell 
 Lowry to make out his time and see that he gets it 
 cashed." 
 
 When they were gone, he turned to Yancey, but was 
 forestalled by the latter s saying: 
 
 "It s entirely unnecessary for you to take up time 
 with me, Mr. Abner. You have discharged three men 
 within two days, for a reason known to both of us. And 
 you won t need to discharge the fourth on your list. If 
 you ll just call the secretary in and give him to under 
 stand that I ve resigned and want the same treatment 
 Bulman is to get, you ll greatly oblige me." 
 
 "But, I did not intend " Abner sputtered, and was 
 
 cut short. 
 
 "Your intentions I have no desire to discover at this 
 time ; you have my resignation ; I will not work another 
 hour under you. I believe in discharging men for cause, 
 and I do not believe in lying about the " 
 
 "Do you accuse me of lying?" Abner demanded, in 
 dignation written all over him. 
 
 , "I accuse you of attempting to job me over the shoul 
 ders of a better man ; I m going out to get my tools, and 
 
480 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 by the time the men knock off I ll be in the office and 
 shall expect a settlement in full." 
 
 We have said that Abner was a better handler of 
 men, a better industrial general than either Price or Hoi- 
 don. He is, but the men he has been weeding out are 
 not the ordinary "hands." If he is once safely rid of 
 the few "men" he had marked, he will prove his title 
 well bestowed. 
 
 It is the "man" among the "hands" who is always 
 marked, bear that in mind. It is always the fighter for a 
 man s rights in the industrial battle whose name graces 
 the "blacklist." And it is always the lick-spittle, tale 
 bearer, liar, hypocrite and me-too whose welfare is the 
 concern of our goo-goo apologists for scabbery and Pink- 
 erton espionage over labor. Abner, manager of the Hoi- 
 don Company, and of its sister corporations, president, 
 is not asleep. There are a dozen men or more in this 
 one plant who are almost as courageous as these men 
 he is discharging and he must be rid of them. 
 
 Will the "hands" at Holdon s rise in revolt when 
 these twelve "men" are put aside? Will they? 
 
 Remember, an injury to one is not yet felt to be the 
 concern of all, even in the ranks of organized labor. 
 
 The infamous blacklist bears witness that thousands 
 of men have been and are being denied the right to live 
 by the exercise of skill, dearly bought in the mills, mines 
 and factories of this land, simply because they fought 
 for the advancement of a principle. And in these mills, 
 mines and factories other men, union men, to hold their 
 jobs, forswear the principle their blacklisted brothers 
 fought to uphold, make peace with the scab, sit un 
 moved in the presence of Pinkerton spies, and insist that 
 they are saving the world of labor from degradation. 
 
 What will the "hands" do? A handful of men in the 
 various departments will do their utmost to induce the 
 "hands" to go on strike ; should they succeed in taking the 
 hands out with them a few hired thugs, a few broken win 
 dows, a street fight or two, then a prostituted court B would 
 issue the ready-made injunction and the unions involved 
 would have to set a watch on their membership to keep 
 them in line, another watch on the scabs, another for spies, 
 /iii l finally appeal to labor as a whole to finance the 
 strike. In the meantime, the gentlemanly agents of the 
 
MR. ABNER PREPARES TO GIVE BATTLE 481 
 
 employer would get busy. First, priests and preachers 
 would be reached in order that moral suasion might be 
 brought to bear upon the misguided, though righteous 
 among the hands. Next, these same gentlemanly agents 
 would hunt high and low to discover an official or two 
 among the unions who might be moved by bribery. Hired 
 liars and leprous lawyers in swarms would surround the 
 hands; jealousy, distrust, fear, want, hunger, religion, 
 politics, patriotism, property interests, all centering their 
 fire upon the "hands," the best they would dare to hope 
 would be a drawn battle. A victory in wage increase, ac 
 companied by as great an increase in living expenses, is 
 the history of all successful labor struggles. The history 
 of labor s defeats is indeed pitiful. But what will the 
 hands do? 
 
 Mr. Abner is prepared for battle, and a thousand Mr. 
 Abners are preparing for, are prepared or are engaged 
 in battle with their hands as you read this. 
 
 Read the story, any story of labor s struggle, from 
 Homestead to McKees Rocks, and aside from local color 
 ing, they are practically identical. 
 
 In Mammon s mills the miller sets the toll each shall 
 pay who brings grist to be ground. 
 
 And Mr. Abner is ready for battle. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THEY ACCEPT. 
 
 The funeral of the Honorable Horace Holdon was 
 featured by the press as one of the most notable in a 
 decade. 
 
 In an eastern city another funeral was held the same 
 day, the funeral of a man who has been charged with 
 two crimes, and this funeral was also "played up" in 
 order that the story of the Holdon murder might be re 
 told as "news." 
 
 When the women of the Holdon household returned 
 from the cemetery it was to find a telegram from New 
 York. 
 
 "Mrs. Holdon is very ill ; will wire again to-morrow. 
 
 "J. D. Downie, M. D." 
 
 Beatrice read the message and handed it to her aunt 
 without comment. 
 
 "The strumpet, ill, indeed! I tell you, Beatrice, that 
 woman is an impostor." Aunt Nell ended by throwing 
 the message on the floor and putting her foot on it. 
 
 "But, aunt, you know Mr. Martin reported that he 
 had found the record of the marriage license; also the. 
 janitor who took care of the church " 
 
 "I thought you told me yesterday that they were mar 
 ried at a parsonage?" Aunt Nell snapped out. 
 
 "Yes, but it happened this janitor was at the parson 
 age, not at the church. Mr. Martin says he described 
 both quite accurately," the girl replied in a tired voice. 
 
 "And so you intend to take that filthy thing in here, 
 when she recovers from her illness?" The scorn of the 
 elder woman cut deep, but the girl ignored it as she re 
 plied : 
 
 "If she was good enough for my father to marry, she 
 is good enough to have her rights in the estate. If I 
 cannot live with her " 
 
 482 
 
THEY ACCEPT 483 
 
 "Yes, if you can t live with her, what then? Marry 
 that cad who s been snooping around here for a year?" 
 
 "To whom do you refer?" the niece asked quietly, 
 but there was anything but quietness -in her eyes. 
 
 "To Charles Augustus; who else?" 
 
 "That will do, aunt. At any time it would be, well, 
 presumptuous, let us say, but at this time, aunt, aunt, 
 I haven t merited this." The girl covered her face with 
 her hands and began to weep. 
 
 "You haven t merited what, I should like to know? 
 To hear you talk one would think that your own father s 
 sister had no more rights in this house than a stranger." 
 Aunt Nell lifted her voice to a shrill pitch as she went, 
 on. "When I called Charles Augustus a cad, I meant 
 it. And what s more, when he called here the other 
 evening, I told him as much. Do you think I am blind? 
 Well, I m not, and neither am I deaf. I heard him not 
 two weeks ago telling Hammond he had you broke to 
 the bridle and that as soon as he had the thing cinched 
 he d see to it that the female chestnut of the family, who 
 was already cracked, got hers." 
 
 During this recital Beatrice had dried her tears and 
 sat drinking in every word. 
 
 "Did he really say that, or were you having a nap?" 
 she asked in an awed voice. 
 
 "Nap, your grandmother! I don t nap when young 
 men are around, or old ones either." 
 
 "If it will," Beatrice selected her words carefully. 
 "If it will relieve your mind and in some measure restore 
 me to your better thoughts, I will tell you. I never in 
 tended to marry Mr. Wetherby, even should he ask 
 me." 
 
 "Thank the Lord, that s off my mind. That is, if 
 you really mean it?" She cast a glance of suspicion in 
 the direction of Beatrice, then turned her eyes to the 
 ceiling in silent thanksgiving. 
 
 Aunt Nell had developed a deep interest in the Hoi- 
 don estate, and had written a brother and sister that, if 
 they came on to the funeral, she had no doubt Miss Hoi- 
 don would, through her influence, do the handsome thing 
 ,by them. She had added that, without doubt, Joel was 
 dead, and the property would be divided. 
 
 The clan had arrived and in time for the last sad 
 
484 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 rites. At the moment Mrs. Bishop had given her opin 
 ion about the new Mrs. Holdon, the brother had stood 
 within earshot in the hall, and in his righteous indigna 
 tion against this woman who would claim a widow s 
 dower, and this baby who would suck up so great a 
 part of the estate if it did not with its puny hands hold 
 the entire property away from the hungry heirs there 
 assembled, he had fairly groaned aloud. He was still 
 standing there, and occupying as little space as possible 
 against the wall, when Aunt Nell again gave voice to the 
 subject uppermost in her mind. 
 
 "Really, my dear, I should like to know," the speak 
 er brought her eyes from the ceiling, "once for all, are 
 you going to be fool enough to recognize that woman 
 and her brat?" 
 
 "Stop right there, aunt. My father s child, my sis 
 ter, is not a brat, and besides," Beatrice had arisen and 
 was about to leave the room. 
 
 "Your father s child?" the other taunted. "A likely 
 story. It s some brat picked out of the gutter and foist 
 ed upon you in order to rob us of our property." 
 
 Beatrice turned. "Our property?" she repeated, 
 questioningly. 
 
 "Yes, our property. When your father died intestate 
 the millions he left belong to his family, and this inter 
 loperthis " 
 
 "I have heard quite enough of this, aunt. If you and 
 all the other relatives are going to begin to fight for the 
 spoils before the grave is sealed, I shall have to ask you 
 to to leave me. I cannot " 
 
 "You cannot play into the hands of that adventuress 
 fast enough," the other almost shrieked as the girl ran 
 out of the room and plumped into her Uncle Walter, 
 who had gradually drawn nearer to the door during the 
 interview. 
 
 Beatrice ran to her rooms without stopping to 
 acknowledge the profuse apologies Uncle Walter offered 
 for having just at that moment halted at the door un 
 certain whether to go in or not. 
 
 "Oh, my poor father," she cried upon bended knees 
 by the big chair he used to sit in when she could in 
 veigle him into visiting her sitting room. "They are 
 here, not out of respect for you, but because they want 
 
THEY ACCEPT 485 
 
 your money. And Uncle Walter I wouldn t have 
 thought that of him." 
 
 As the clock ticked off the minutes the girl, sore 
 pressed, poured out both tears and prayers for guid 
 ance. Her father s lawyers were against her her own 
 flesh and blood as well and all against the woman 
 who had married her father as well. Every one to fight. 
 Hew she wished the mother and baby were there to give 
 her courage, or drive her to despair ; any way, she would 
 hold out for the wife and her little sister against them 
 all, no, not all. With a glad cry, she sprang to her feet. 
 John Bulman was not against her. Had he not warned 
 her, urged her to be brave? 
 
 She would see him and at once, if he were to be 
 found. A little note written and folded by nervous 
 fingers, a call on the house phone and a maid hastening 
 away as though her life depended upon it, then a rest 
 less nerve-consuming wait. Finally, unable to remain 
 inactive longer, Beatrice went downstairs and as she 
 reached the front hall, saw Aunt Nell at the door. 
 
 "No, you are mistaken, you were not sent for," Mrs. 
 Bishop was saying and a voice on the outside replied : 
 
 "Madam, it is you who are mistaken: Here is the 
 summons I answer." Bulman held Beatrice s note to 
 ward the keeper of the gate. It was snatched from him 
 and torn into bits. 
 
 "That for your summons; the girl is clearly beside 
 
 herself, and it is high time her relatives put a stop 
 , .v 
 
 "Mrs. Bishop, will you please step aside?" It was 
 not a question, but a command, and Mrs. Bishop, after 
 one frightened glance at the girl s set face, fairly flew 
 up the stairs and into her apartments. 
 
 "Mr. Bulman," Beatrice held out both hands. "I am 
 more glad to see you than I can tell, and I want to apol 
 ogize " 
 
 "Not at all, not at all." Their hands still clasped. 
 "I don t mind, and you wouldn t if you knew the over 
 topping reason for it all. " He was led into the library. 
 
 Excusing herself, Beatrice went to the doors and 
 carefully closed them one after another. 
 
 "They have not begun already?" the man protested, 
 
486 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 and was answered with a nod and a blush of shame as 
 the girl turned back to him. 
 
 For two hours this man of the people listened, ad 
 vised, dissuaded and encouraged the woman. At the 
 end of that time they had decided to present to the at 
 torneys a proposition, which if accepted, would give them 
 time to prosecute the search for Joel, rid the estate of 
 the several pieces of property then used for questionable 
 purposes, and at least satisfy the b rother and sisters of 
 the deceased for a time. It also provided for Beatrice 
 holding the residence until such time as the court should 
 decide -that the son s interest in the estate need no longer 
 be considered. 
 
 When it had been roughly drafted by Bulman 
 Beatrice asked: 
 
 "Will they sign it?" 
 
 "The widow will," John answered, soberly. 
 
 "And the others?" 
 
 "The others, too, if they know what s good for them. 
 You see," he added, "the way matters stand, they are 
 not sure of anything; there are so many complications. 
 I believe they ll grab at the twenty thousand each, and 
 hope to find some way around the waiver, should any 
 thing else turn up." 
 
 "I ought to be insulted when you talk that way about 
 my relatives" a sad little smile came to her lips "but I 
 am not. Your talk this evening has been a tonic to 
 me." 
 
 "And I have been paying a debt." Bulman looked 
 at his watch. "Nine o clock; land alive, I had no idea 
 it was so late." 
 
 "Is it? Why, so it is!" She stood facing him. 
 "What are you doing; still in the shop our shop?" 
 
 "No, I was overworked and am taking a much need 
 ed rest." 
 
 There was banter in his tone. 
 
 "Out of work again, Mr. Bulman? I am sorry. How 
 would you like to work for me?" 
 
 "Tip-top," he replied, and on the way home, asked 
 himself what she could have meant. 
 
 When Lawyer Fanchett called by appointment at the 
 house the day" after Bulman s visit, the first thing he 
 said was: 
 
THEY ACCEPT 487 
 
 "I want to congratulate you upon the stand you took 
 regarding your father s widow. The evidence is ac- 
 . umulating and in her favor." Beatrice smiled wanly. 
 
 "Pretty hard lines for you, e h, Miss Holdon?" he be 
 gan, and hesitated. "But, you are as brave as as a 
 woman ought to be. Now, if you d broken down, we d 
 made a mess of it, I know we would. Why, Linkenfelter 
 was furious, positively so, when I went back and told 
 him we were not to fight." 
 
 Silently Beatrice had pushed the agreement she had 
 rewritten across to him. Mechanically he picked it up 
 and immediately it came under his eyes he was repeat 
 ing, "I told him we were not to fight," and then, "Good 
 heavens, what is this, a will? No." 
 
 The girl watched him closely as he read, but made 
 no comment. When he had finished, he turned back and 
 began all over again. 
 
 "Will they sign this ? Your relatives, I mean ? Have 
 you consulted them ?" he demanded, and before she could 
 answer, asked: "Did you draw up this paper?" 
 
 "I had the help of a friend," she replied. 
 
 "And a level-headed one one who knows something 
 of the entanglements we have to unravel. B} the way, 
 how did you know about these several pieces of prop 
 erty?" Tapping the paper with his knuckles, the lawyer 
 observed her narrowly. 
 
 "My friend knew." A blush of shame dyed her 
 cheeks, and she bent her head until she could only see 
 his shoes. 
 
 "Your friend knows enough, evidently," he put in, 
 with some warmth. 
 
 "Yes, enough to be a true friend." 
 
 "As a rule," he began, "I do not believe it good policy 
 to fix hard and fast conditions of this sort, say like these 
 selling orders, but in view of your stepmother s past 
 life; do you know of that, too?" he questioned. 
 
 "Yes." The answer seemed to be drawn from her 
 with her own heartstrings. The man looked at the 
 shrinking girl and over his face there came a new ex 
 pression, an expression of approval, as he said: 
 
 "I shall urge the carrying out of this agreement, and 
 I have no doubt that Mrs. Holdon will be glad to sign it. 
 The sale of the property in that case would be a matter 
 
488 MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 easily disposed of, and the creation of the trust fund out 
 of the proceeds for carrying on your project for the 
 children will be easy. There s one thing you forgot, a 
 provision for the expense attached to the search for 
 Joel. We should include that." 
 
 "I did not forget that," Beatrice corrected. "I want 
 to bear that expense." 
 
 "Nonsense, nonsense!" the lawyer sputtered. "The 
 estate shall bear the expense. I shall note it down in 
 this most entertaining document." He smiled and the 
 girl nodded assent. "Now about the relatives ; have they 
 been making demands upon you?" 
 
 "No, not demands." 
 
 "But, rather blunt insinuations, eh? I ll tell you 
 frankly, Miss Holdon, three of them have hired attor 
 neys, and there are others to follow. Now, I m going 
 straight to the office and have their attorneys over. I ll 
 lay this document before them and tell them flatly that 
 unless they accept all of the conditions you have named, 
 we will tie the estate up in a neat little package and they 
 won t get a cent. There is no doubt as to the outcome. 
 We have plenty of funds on hand to pay them, and if 
 you will draw up a check for forty thousand, I will see 
 that it goes through and you will be relieved of this 
 much of your burden." 
 
 Beatrice drew her check book from the table drawer, 
 and asked as she held it in a trembling hand, "Have I a 
 right to to " 
 
 "Certainly, you have a right. Did you suppose we 
 intended or that the courts could, tie up your father s 
 estate so that you or your agents could not get funds to 
 meet your every-day needs? Why, if you want to real 
 ize on a check for one hundred thousand, I ll see that 
 the money is forthcoming." 
 
 "Thank you, I feel much better; I really thought 
 everything would be " 
 
 "Involved in litigation," he finished for her, with a 
 broad smile. 
 
 She bent over the check book. "The largest check I 
 ever drew, and, oh, how I wish I we had Joel here." 
 
 "Yes," Fanchett replied in a very deliberate way, 
 his face expressive of anything but enthusiasm as he took 
 the check. 
 
THEY ACCEPT 489 
 
 "Now, unless there s something further you want to 
 say to me, Miss Holdon, I am going back to the office. 
 By the way, with your permission, I ll get those lawyers, 
 both the relatives and Mrs. Holdon s, on the phone and 
 have them there when I get back." 
 
 "There is one thing I d like to have your opinion on." 
 The girl spoke slowly and with great effort, as Fanchett 
 hung up the receiver and announced ; "They ll be there." 
 
 "Don t you think I ought to have an agent, a good, 
 reliable man, to look after the details so long as I am sup 
 posed to be the head of affairs?" 
 
 "Of course," the reply came with emphasis. 
 
 "And may I select my own agent? A man I have 
 known for years, one who is the soul of honor and " 
 
 "If he s a business man, yes," Fanchett explained. 
 "There s a thousand loose ends to be picked up, a lot 
 of property to be taken care of, and it needs a man of 
 business. Now, I have in mind an excellent man for the 
 place " 
 
 "But, you forget, Mr. Fanchett, that you have ad 
 mitted my choice is to be considered." 
 
 "Well, yes, now, who is he?" 
 
 "Mr. John Bulman." 
 
 "John Bulman, John Bulman. I ve heard that name 
 before. Well, we will discuss this agent proposition 
 later." Mr. Fanchett held out his hand. 
 
 "No, we won t discuss it later. Here s his address. 
 You will please notify him that he has been appointed 
 to look after mv interests in the estate, at a salary of 
 of " 
 
 "But, my dear lady, I must protest that we, your at 
 torneys, should have the right to examine this man, this 
 
 Mr. , what was it? Yes, Bulman. Unless you 
 
 are absolutely sure of his good judgment, his ability, his 
 honesty, in which case of course " 
 
 "Of course, I would have the right to name him. 
 Well, I have every right to name him, Mr. Fanchett. I 
 have every reason to esteem Mr. Bulman. You said if I 
 had broken down you would have made a mess of the 
 case ; you have been pleased to tell me that if we can get 
 my father s widow and the others to accept the terms I 
 offer them, we will be saved a world of trouble. Well, 
 Mr. Bulman saved me from breaking down. It was he 
 
49O MILLS OF MAMMON 
 
 who advised me to protect my father s honor by keeping 
 this woman out of the courts ; it was he who pointed out 
 that father s brother and sisters would accept a lump 
 sum now in preference to the uncertainty of getting as 
 much after litigation; it was he who insisted that the 
 woman and baby are more apt to be impostors than not, 
 but that we could not afford to quarrel with them now; 
 it was he who pointed out the way by which I might re 
 tain my home here and at the same time be free to in 
 vestigate this woman s claims, and that without material 
 ly injuring her or her right to finally take possession of 
 the property; it was he who suggested asking the court 
 to sanction our plans upon the ground that no proof that 
 Joel is dead has been discovered, and we should have a 
 reasonable time in which to ascertain his fate. Finally, 
 it was he who, knowing my father owned these pieces of 
 property, at present used," she hesitated, "he suggested 
 their immediate sale and the disposition of the proceeds." 
 
 "And this man " the lawyer began. 
 
 "And this man, John Bulman, gave me courage and 
 advice worth more than the millions father left for others 
 to fight over, and I want him to help carry out the things 
 he planned for me." 
 
 "Who is he?" 
 
 "My agent, if you please." 
 
 "Very well, we ll call that settled. I will notify him 
 and make the salary, say, two hundred dollars per month. 
 Of course," he added, misunderstanding the expression 
 on Beatrice s face, "if he is of as great value in an ex 
 ecutive capacity as your your recommendation would 
 imply, we might make him one of the administrators of 
 the estate also, and increase his salary accordingly. But 
 I must go, positively, I must. Those claimants lawyers 
 will be anxious. Don t be surprised if I call you up in 
 an hour." 
 
 The hour Beatrice Holdon sat with the phone before 
 her on the library table was short indeed. For in that 
 hour she had built and furnished a new home for John 
 Bulman, and saw the fund for the defense of working 
 children beginning to bear fruit. The bell rang its tiny 
 silver note. She looked at the instrument, then as it 
 rang again, pushed it away, with something akin to 
 dread written upon her beautiful face. Again the bell 
 
THEY ACCEPT. 
 
 rang. With a sudden cry of protest, protest against the 
 possibilities of disaster to her hopes that lay within the 
 moment, she took down the receiver. 
 
 "They accept, both for the widow and the relatives. 
 Say, their lawyers were not overly well pleased, but to 
 refuse would have have put them in such bad light. And 
 about Bulman. Are you listening? Yes, well, Linken- 
 felter knows him." 
 
 "And what does he say?" The girl s voice was so 
 low Fanchett asked her to repeat. Then answered: 
 
 "Oh, he says Bulman will do. Says he will take 
 charge of him yes, he said tell Miss Holdon I am of 
 the same faith. I don t know what that means, but when 
 Linkenfelter says he s all right, your interests will be 
 perfectly safe in his hands." 
 
 (THE END.) 
 
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