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THE SOCIAL GANGSTER
THE CRAIG KENNEDY SERIES
BY ARTHUR B. REEVE
FRONTISPIECE BY WILL FOSTER
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERSNEW YORK AND LONDON
Copyright, 1916, by HARPER & BROTHERSPrinted in the United States of America
JUST BEFORE WE WERE OFF A TELEGRAM CAME TO HER, WHICH SHEREAD AND HASTILY STUFFED INTO A POCKET OF HER RIDING HABIT]
CONTENTS
I. THE SOCIAL GANGSTER
II. THE CABARET ROUGE
III. THE FOX HUNT
IV. THE TANGO THIEF
V. THE "THE DANSANT"
VI. THE SERUM DIAGNOSIS
VII. THE DIAMOND QUEEN
VIII. THE ANESTHETIC VAPORIZER
IX. THE TWILIGHT SLEEP
X. THE SIXTH SENSE
XI. THE INFERNAL MACHINES
XII. THE SUBMARINE BELL
XIII. THE SUPER-TOXIN
XIV. THE SECRET AGENTS
XV. THE GERM OF ANTHRAX
XVI. THE SLEEPMAKER
XVII. THE INTER-URBAN HANDICAP
XVIII. THE TOXIN OF FATIGUE
XIX. THE X-RAY DETECTIVE
XX. THE MECHANICAL CONNOISSEUR
XXI. THE RADIOGRAPH WITNESS
XXII. THE ABSOLUTE ZERO
XXIII. THE VACUUM BOTTLE
XXIV. THE SOLAR PLEXUS
XXV. THE DEMON ENGINE
XXVI. THE ELECTROLYSIS CLEW
XXVII. THE PERPETUAL MOTION MACHINE
XXVIII. THE CANCER HOUSE
XXIX. THE QUACK DOCTORS
XXX. THE FILTERABLE VIRUS
XXXI. THE VOODOO MYSTERY
XXXII. THE FLUORISCINE TEST
XXXIII. THE RESPIRATION CALORIMETER
XXXIV. THE EVIL EYE
XXXV. THE BURIED TREASURE
XXXVI. THE WEED OF MADNESS
THE SOCIAL GANGSTER
CHAPTER I
THE SOCIAL GANGSTER
"I'm so worried over Gloria, Professor Kennedy, that I hardly know whatI'm doing."
Mrs. Bradford Brackett was one of those stunning women of baffling ageof whom there seem to be so many nowadays. One would scarcely havebelieved that she could be old enough to have a daughter who would worryher very much.
Her voice trembled and almost broke as she proceeded with her story,and, looking closer, I saw that, at least now, her face showed marks ofanxiety that told on her more than would have been the case some yearsbefore.
At the mention of the name of Gloria Brackett, I saw that Craig wasextremely interested, though he did not betray it to Mrs. Brackett.Already, with my nose for news I had scented a much bigger story thanany that had been printed. For the Bracketts had lately been more orless in the news of the day.
Choking back a little suppressed sob in her throat, Mrs. Brackett tookfrom a delicate gold mesh bag and laid on the desk before Kennedy asmall clipping from the "Lost and Found" advertisements in the _Star_.It read:
"REWARD of $10,000 and absolutely no questions asked for the return of a diamond necklace of seventy-one stones which disappeared from a house at Willys Hills, Long Island, last Saturday or Sunday.
"LA RUE & CO., Jewelers, "---- Fifth Avenue."
I recognized the advertisement as one that had occasioned a great dealof comment on the _Star_, due to its peculiar nature. It had been agreat mystery, perhaps much more so than if the advertisement had beenworded and signed in the usual way.
I knew also that the advertisement had created a great furore ofexcitement and gossip at the fashionable North Shore Hunt Club of whichBradford Brackett was Master of Fox Hounds.
"At first," explained Mrs. Brackett nervously, "La Rue & Co. were ableto keep the secret. They even refused to let the police take up thecase. But as public interest in the advertisement increased at last thesecret leaked out--at least that part of it which connected our namewith the loss. That, however, seemed only to whet curiosity. It lefteverybody wondering what was back of it all. That's what we've beentrying to avoid--that sort of publicity."
She paused a moment, but Kennedy said nothing, evidently thinking thatthe best safety valve for her overwrought feelings would be to let hertell her story in her own way.
"Why, you know," she resumed rapidly, to hide her agitation, "the mostridiculous things have been said. Some people have even said that welost nothing at all, that it was all a clever attempt at notoriety, toget our names in the papers. Some have said it was a plan to collect theburglary insurance. But we are wealthy. They didn't stop to think howinconceivable that was. We have nothing to lose, even if the necklace isnever heard of again."
For the moment her indignation had got the better of her worry. Mostopinions, I recalled, had been finally that the disappearance was mixedup with some family affairs. At any rate, here was to be the real storyat last. I dissembled my interest. Mrs. Brackett's indignation wasquickly succeeded by the more poignant feelings that had brought her toKennedy.
"You see," she continued, now almost sobbing, "it is really all, I fear,my own fault. I didn't realize that Gloria was growing so fast and sofar out of my life. I've let her be brought up by governesses andservants. I've sent her to the best schools I could find. I thought itwas all right. But now, too late, I realize that it is all wrong. Ihaven't kept close enough to her."
She was rattling on in this disjointed manner, getting more and moreexcited, but still Kennedy made no effort to lead the conversation.
"I didn't think Gloria was more than a child. But--why, Mr. Kennedy,she's been going, I find, to these afternoon dances in the city and outat a place not far from Willys Hills."
"What sort of places?" prompted Kennedy.
"The Cabaret Rouge," answered Mrs. Brackett, flashing at us a look ofdefiance that really masked fear of public opinion.
I knew of the place. It had an extremely unsavory reputation. In factthere were two places of the same name, one in the city and the otherout on Long Island.
Mrs. Brackett must have seen Kennedy and me exchange a look askance atthe name.
"Oh, it's not a question of morals, alone," she hastened. "After all,sometimes common sense and foolishness are fair equivalents for rightand wrong."
Kennedy looked up quickly, genuinely surprised at this bit of worldlywisdom.
"When women do stupid, dangerous things, trouble follows," shepersisted, adding, "if not at once, a bit later. This is a case of it."
One could not help feeling sorry for the woman and what she had to face.
"I had hoped, oh, so dearly," she went on a moment later, "that Gloriawould marry a young man who, I know, is devoted to her, an Italian offine family, Signor Franconi--you must have heard of him--the inventorof a new system of wireless transmission of pictures. But with such ascandal--how can we expect it? Do you know him?"
"Not personally, though I have heard of him," returned Kennedy briefly.
Both Craig and myself had been interested in reports of his invention,which he called the "Franconi Telephote," by which he claimed to be ableto telegraph either over wires or by wireless light and dark points sorapidly and in such a manner as to deceive the eye and produce at thereceiving end what amounted to a continuous reproduction of a pictureat the transmitting end. At least, in spite of his society leanings,Franconi was no mere dilettante inventor.
"But--the necklace," suggested Craig, after a moment, for the first timeinterrupting the rather rambling trend of Mrs. Brackett's story, "whathas this all
to do with the necklace?"
She looked at him almost despairingly. "I don't really care for athousand such necklaces," she cried. "It is my daughter--her goodname--her--her safety!"
Suddenly she had become almost hysterical as she thought of the realpurpose of her visit, which she had not yet been able to bring herselfto disclose even to Kennedy. Finally, with an effort, she managed tocontrol herself and go on.
"You see," she said in a low tone, almost as if she were confessing somefault of her own, "Gloria has been frequenting these--_recherche_places, without my knowledge, and there she has become intimate withsome of the fastest of the fast set.
"You ask about the necklace. I don't know, I must admit. Has some one ofher friends taken advantage of her to learn our habits and get into thehouse and get it? Or, have they put her up to getting it?"
The last query was wrung from her as if by main force. She could noteven breathe it without a shudder. "When the necklace was stolen," sheadded tremulously, "it must have been an inside job, as you detectivescall it. Mr. Brackett and I were away at the time at a week-end party.We supposed Gloria was visiting some friends in the city. But sincethen we have learned that she motored out with some of her dance-crazedacquaintances to the Cabaret Rouge, not far from Willys Hills. It musthave been taken then--by some of them."
The recital to comparative strangers, even though they were to betrusted to right the wrong, was more than she could bear. Mrs. Brackettwas now genuinely in tears, her shoulders trembling under the emotion,as she bowed her head. Her despair and self-accusation would really havemoved anyone, much less were needed to enlist Kennedy. He said nothing,but his look of encouragement seemed to nerve her up again to go on. Sheforced back her feelings heroically.
"We put the advertisement that way because--well, now you understandwhy," she resumed; then anticipating our question, added, "But there hasbeen no response."
I knew from her tone that even to herself she would not admit thatGloria might have been guilty. Yet subconsciously it must have been inher mind and she knew it was in ours. Her voice broke again.
"Mr. Brackett has repeatedly ordered Gloria to give up her fastacquaintances. But she defies him. Even to my pleadings she has turned adeaf ear."
It was most pathetic to watch the workings of the mother's face as shewas forced to say this of her daughter. All thought of the necklace waslost, now.
"I--I want my daughter back," she almost wailed.
"Who are these rapid youngsters?" asked Craig gently.
"I don't know all of them," she replied. "There is young RittenhouseSmith; he is one. The Rittenhouse Smiths, you know, are a very finefamily. But young 'Ritter,' as the younger set call him, is wild.They've had to cut his allowance two or three times, I believe. Anotherof them is Rhinelander Brown. I don't think the Browns have much money,but it is a good family. Oh," she added with a faint attempt at a smile,"I'm not the only mother who has heart-aches. But the worst of it isthat there are some professionals with whom they go--a dancer, Rex DuMond, and a woman named Bernice Bentley. I don't know any more of them,but I presume there is a regular organization of these socialgangsters."
"Did Signor Franconi--ever go with them?" asked Craig.
"Oh, mercy, no," she hastened.
"And they can't seem to break the gang up," ruminated Craig, evidentlyliking her characterization of the group.
She sighed deeply and wiped away another tear. "I've done what I couldwith Gloria. I've cut her allowance--but it has done no good. I'm losingmy hold on her altogether. You--you will help me--I mean, help Gloria?"she asked eagerly, leaning forward in an appeal which must have cost hera great deal, so common is the repression of such feelings in women ofher type.
"Gladly," returned Kennedy heartily. "I will do anything in my power."
Proud though she was, Mrs. Brackett could scarcely murmur her thanks.
"Where can I see Gloria?" asked Kennedy finally.
She shook her head. "I can't say. If you want to, you may see hertomorrow, though, at the drag hunt of the club. My husband says he isnot going to take Gloria's actions without a protest. So he hasperemptorily ordered her to attend the meet of the Hunt Club. We thoughtit would get her away, at least for a time, from her associates, thoughI must say I can't be sure that she will obey."
I thought I understood, partly at least. Bradford Brackett's election asM. F. H. had been a crowning distinction in his social career and he didnot propose to have Gloria's escapades spoil the meet for him. Perhapshe thought this as good an occasion as any to use his power to force herback into the circle to which she rightfully belonged.
Mrs. Brackett had risen. "How can I ever thank you?" she exclaimed,extending her hand impulsively. "I know nothing has been changed--yet.But already I feel better."
"I shall do what I can; depend on me," reiterated Kennedy modestly. "IfI can do nothing before, I shall be out at the Hunt Clubtomorrow--perhaps I shall be there anyhow."
"This is a most peculiar situation," I remarked a few minutes later, asMrs. Brackett was whisked away from the laboratory door in her motor.
"Indeed it is," returned Kennedy, pacing up and down, his face wrinkledwith thought. "I don't know whether I feel more like a detective or aspiritual adviser." He pulled out his watch. "Half-past four," heconsidered. "I'd like to have a look at that Cabaret Rouge here intown."