Van Nostrand interrupted at this point.
"Well, Officer 4434, you can have the backing of all the money you need as far as I am concerned. You"ll have to come down to my offices some day soon, and we"ll work out a plan of getting after these people. Can I do anything more, inspector?"
The official shook his head.
"There"s a poor young woman here who is half drugged, and doesn"t know who she is," he began.
"Well, send her to some good private hospital and have her taken care of and send the bill to me," said Reggie. "I"ve got to be getting downtown. Goodbye, Officer Burke, don"t forget me."
"Goodbye--you"ve been a fine chauffeur and a better detective," said the young policeman, "even if you are a millionaire." And the two young men laughed with an unusual cordiality as they shook hands.
Despite the difference in their stations it was the similarity of red blood in them both which melted away the barriers, and later developed an unconventional and permanent friendship between them.
Burke talked with Henrietta Bailey, the country girl, who sat dejectedly in the station house. She had no plans for the future, having come to the big city to look for a position, trusting in the help of the famous Y.W.C.A. organization, of whose good deeds and protection she had heard so much, even in the little town up state.
"I"ll call them up, down at their main offices," said Bobbie, "but it"s a big society and they have all they can do. Wouldn"t you like to meet a nice sweet girl who will take a personal interest in you, and go down there with you herself?"
Henrietta tried to hold back the tears.
"Oh, land sakes," she began, stammering, "I ... do ... want to just blubber on somebody"s shoulder. I"m skeered of all these New York folks, and I"m so lonesome, Mr. Constable."
"We"ll just cure that, then," answered Burke. "I"ll introduce you to the very finest girl in the world, and she"ll show you that hearts beat as warmly in a big city as they do in a village of two hundred people."
Bobbie lost no time in telephoning Mary Barton, who was just on the point of leaving Monnarde"s candy store.
She came directly uptown to meet the country girl and take her to the modest apartment for the night.
Bobbie devoted the interim to making his report on the unusual circ.u.mstances of his one-man raid ... and dodging the police reporters who were on the scene like hawks as soon as the news had leaked out.
Despite his declaration that the credit should go to the precinct in which the arrests had been made half a dozen photographers, with their black artillery-like cameras had snapped views of the house, and some grotesque portraits of the young officer. Other camera men, with newspaper celerity, had captured the aristocratic features of Reggie Van Nostrand and his racing car, as he sat in it before his Fifth Avenue club. It was such a story that city editors gloated over, and it was to give the embarra.s.sed policeman more trouble than it was worth.
Bobbie"s telephone report to Captain Sawyer, explaining his absence from the downtown station house was greeted with commendation.
"That"s all right, Burke, go as far as you like. A few more cases like that and you"ll be on the honor list for the Police Parade Day. Clean it up as soon as you can," retorted his superior.
When Mary took charge of Henrietta Bailey, the hapless girl felt as though life were again worth living. After a good cry in the matron"s room, she was bundled up, her rattan suitcase and the weather-beaten band boxes were carried over to the Barton home.
"I don"t know whether you had better say anything about this Baxter to Lorna or not," said Bobbie, as he stood outside the house, to start on his way downtown. "It"s a horrible affair, and her escape from the man"s clutches was a close one."
"She"s cured now, however," stoutly declared Mary. "I have no fears for Lorna."
"Then do as you think best. I"ll see you to-morrow afternoon, there at the store, and you can take supper downtown with me if you would like.
If there is any way I can help about this girl let me know."
They separated, and Mary took her guest upstairs.
Her father was greatly excited for he had just put the finishing touches on his dictagraph-recorder. His mind was so over-wrought with his work that Mary thought it better not to tell him of the exciting afternoon until later. She simply introduced Henrietta as a friend from the country who was going to spend the night. Lorna was courteous enough to the newcomer, but seemed abstracted and dreamy. She neglected the little household duties, making the burden harder for Mary. Henrietta"s rustic training, however, a.s.serted itself, and she gladly took a hand in the preparation of the evening meal.
"I"ve a novel I want to finish reading, Mary," said her sister, "and if you don"t mind I"m going to do it. You and Miss Bailey don"t need me.
I"ll go into our room until supper is ready."
"What is it, dear? It must be very interesting," replied Mary, a shade of uneasiness coming over her. "You are not usually so literary after the hard work at the store all day."
Lorna laughed.
"It"s time I improved my mind, then. A friend gave it to me--it"s the story of a chorus girl who married a rich club man, by Robin Chalmers, and oh, Mary! It"s simply the most exciting thing you ever read. The stage does give a girl chances that she never gets working in a store, doesn"t it?"
"There are several kinds of chances, Lorna," answered the older girl slowly. "There are many girls who beautify their own lives by their success on the stage, but you know, there are a great many more who find in that life a terrible current to fight against. While they may make large salaries, as measured against what you and I earn, they must rehea.r.s.e sometimes for months without salary at all. If the show is successful they are in luck for a while, and their pictures are in every paper. They spend their salary money to buy prettier clothes and to live in beautiful surroundings, and they gauge their expenditures upon what they are earning from week to week. But girls I have known tell me that is the great trouble. For when the play loses its popularity, or fails, they have accustomed themselves to extravagant tastes, and they must rehea.r.s.e for another show, without money coming in."
"Oh, but a clever girl can pick out a good opportunity."
"No, she can"t. She is dependent upon the judgment of the managers, and if you watch and see that two of every three shows put on right in New York never last a month out, you"ll see that the managers" judgment is not so very keen. Even the best season of a play hardly lasts thirty weeks--a little over half a year, and so you must divide a girl"s salary in two to find what she makes in a year"s time. You and I, in the candy store, are making more money than a girl who gets three times the money a week on the stage, for we have a whole year of work, and we don"t have to go to manicures and modistes and hairdressers two or three times a week."
"Well, I wish we did!" retorted Lorna petulantly. "There"s no romance in you, Mary. You"re just humdrum and old-fashioned and narrow. Think of the beautiful costumes, and the lights, the music, the applause of thousands! Oh, it must be wonderful to thrill an audience, and have hundreds of men worshiping you, and all that, Mary."
Her sister"s eyes filled with tears as she turned away.
"Go on with your book, Lorna," she murmured. "Maybe some day you"ll read one which will teach you that old fashions are not so bad, that there"s romance in home and that the true, decent love of one man is a million times better than the applause, and the flowers, and the flattery of hundreds. I"ve read such books."
"Hum!" sniffed Lorna, "I don"t doubt it. Written by old maids who could never attract a man, nor look pretty themselves. Well, none of the girls I know bother with such books: there are too many lively ones written nowadays. Call me when supper is ready, for I"m hungry."
And she adjusted her curls before flouncing into the bedroom to lose herself in the adventures of the patchouli heroine.
It was a quiet evening at the Barton home. The father was too engrossed to give more than abstracted heed, even to the appetizing meal. Mary forbore to interrupt his thoughts about the new machine.
She felt a hesitation about narrating the afternoon"s adventures of Bobbie Burke to Lorna, for the girl seemed estranged and eager only for the false romance of her novel. With Henrietta, Mary discussed the opportunities for work in the great city, already overcrowded with struggling girls. So convincing was she, the country la.s.s decided that she would take the train next morning back to the little town where she could be safe from the excitement and the dangers of the city lure.
"I reckon I"m a scared country mouse," she declared. "But I"m old enough to know a warning when I get one. The Lord didn"t intend me to be a city girl, or he wouldn"t have given me this lesson to-day. I"ve got my old grand dad up home, and there"s Joe Mills, who is foreman in the furniture factory. I think I"d better get back and help Joe spend his eighteen a week in the little Clemmons house the way he wanted me to do."
"You couldn"t do a better thing in the world," said Mary, patting her hand gently as they sat in the cosy little kitchen. "Your little town would be a finer place to bring up little Joes and little Henriettas than this big city, wouldn"t it? And I don"t believe the right Joe ever comes but once in a girl"s life. There aren"t many fellows who are willing to share eighteen a week with a girl in New York."
Mary"s guest blushed happily as the light of a new determination shone in her eyes. She opened a locket which she wore on a chain around her neck.
"I always thought Joe was nice, and all that--but I read these here stories about the city fellers, and I seen the pictures in the magazines, and thought Joe was a rube. But he ain"t, is he?"
She held up the little picture, as she opened the locket, for Mary"s scrutiny. The honest, smiling face, the square jaw, the clear eyes of Joe looked forth as though in greeting of an old friend.
"You can"t get back to Joe any too quickly," advised Mary, and Henrietta wiped her eyes. She had received a homeopathic cure of the city madness in one brief treatment!
It was not a quiet evening for Officer 4434.
When he emerged from the Subway at Fourteenth Street a newsboy approached him with a bundle of papers.
"Uxtry! Uxtry!" shouted the youngster. "Read all about de cop and de millionaire dat captured de white slavers!"
The lad shoved a paper at Bobbie, who tossed him a nickel and hurried on, quizzically glancing at the flaring headlines which featured the name of Reggie Van Nostrand and his own. The quickly made ill.u.s.trations, showing his picture, the machine of the young clubman, and the house of slavery were startling. The traditional arrow indicated "where the battle was fought," and Burke laughed as he studied the sensational report.
"Well, I look more like a gangster, according to this picture, than Jimmie the Monk! Those news photographers don"t flatter a fellow very much."
At the station house he was warmly greeted by his brother officers. It was embarra.s.sing, to put it mildly; Burke had no desire for a pedestal.