CHAPTER XXI
CHANGES IN THE STAFF
Three days had elapsed since the battle which had opened the campaign,and there had been no further movement on the part of the enemy. Smithwas puzzled. A strange quiet seemed to be brooding over the other camp.He could not believe that a single defeat had crushed the foe, but itwas hard to think of any other explanation.
It was Pugsy Maloney who, on the fourth morning, brought to the officethe inner history of the truce. His version was brief and unadorned, aswas the way with his narratives. Such things as first causes andpiquant details he avoided, as tending to prolong the tellingexcessively, thus keeping him from the perusal of his cowboy stories.He gave the thing out merely as an item of general interest, a bubbleon the surface of the life of a great city. He did not know how nearlyinterested were his employers in any matter touching that gang which isknown as the Three Points.
Pugsy said: "Dere's been fuss'n going on down where I live. DudeDawson's mad at Spider Reilly, and now de Table Hills is layin' for deT'ree Points, to soak it to 'em. Dat's right."
He then retired to his outer fastness, yielding further details jerkilyand with the distrait air of one whose mind is elsewhere.
Skilfully extracted and pieced together, these details formedthemselves into the following typical narrative of East Side life.
There were four really important gangs in New York at this time. Therewere other less important institutions besides, but these were littlemore than mere friendly gatherings of old boyhood chums for purposes ofmutual companionship. They might grow into formidable organizations intime, but for the moment the amount of ice which good judges declaredthem to cut was but small. They would "stick up" an occasional wayfarerfor his "cush," and they carried "canisters" and sometimes fired themoff, but these things do not signify the cutting of ice. In matterspolitical there were only four gangs which counted, the East Side, theGroome Street, the Three Points and the Table Hill. Greatest of these,by virtue of their numbers, were the East Side and the Groome Street,the latter presided over at the time of this story by Mr. Bat Jarvis.These two were colossal, and, though they might fight each other, wereimmune from attack at the hands of the rest.
But between the other gangs, and especially between the Table Hill andthe Three Points, which were much of a size, warfare raged asfrequently as among the Republics of South America. There had alwaysbeen bad blood between the Table Hill and the Three Points. Littleevents, trifling in themselves, had always occurred to shatter friendlyrelations just when there seemed a chance of their being formed. Thus,just as the Table Hillites were beginning to forgive the Three Pointsfor shooting the redoubtable Paul Horgan down at Coney Island, a ThreePointer injudiciously wiped out a Table Hillite near Canal Street. Hepleaded self-defense, and in any case it was probably merethoughtlessness, but nevertheless the Table Hillites were ruffled.
That had been a month or so back. During that month things had beensimmering down, and peace was just preparing to brood when thereoccurred the incident alluded to by Pugsy, the regrettable falling outbetween Dude Dawson and Spider Reilly.
To be as brief as possible, Dude Dawson had gone to spend a happyevening at a dancing saloon named Shamrock Hall, near Groome Street.Now, Shamrock Hall belonged to a Mr. Maginnis, a friend of Bat Jarvis,and was under the direct protection of that celebrity. It was,therefore, sacred ground, and Mr. Dawson visited it in a purely privateand peaceful capacity. The last thing he intended was to spoil theharmony of the evening.
Alas for the best intentions! Two-stepping clumsily round the room--forhe was a poor, though enthusiastic, dancer--Dude Dawson collided withand upset a certain Reddy Davis and his partner. Reddy Davis was amember of the Three Points, and his temper was the temper of ared-headed man. He "slugged" Mr. Dawson. Mr. Dawson, more skilful atthe fray than at the dance, joined battle willingly, and they wereabsorbed in a stirring combat, when an interruption occurred. In thefar corner of the room, surrounded by admiring friends, sat SpiderReilly, monarch of the Three Points. He had noticed that there was aslight disturbance at the other side of the hall, but had given itlittle attention till the dancing ceasing suddenly and the flooremptying itself of its crowd, he had a plain view of Mr. Dawson and Mr.Davis squaring up at each other for the second round.
We must assume that Mr. Reilly was not thinking of what he did, for hisaction was contrary to all rules of gang etiquette. In the street itwould have been perfectly legitimate, even praiseworthy, but in adance-hall under the protection of a neutral power it was unpardonable.
What he did was to produce his revolver, and shoot the unsuspecting Mr.Dawson in the leg. Having done which, he left hurriedly, fearing thewrath of Bat Jarvis.
Mr. Dawson, meanwhile, was attended to and helped home. Willinginformants gave him the name of his aggressor, and before morning theTable Hill camp was in a ferment. Shooting broke out in three places,though there were no casualties.
When the day dawned there existed between the two gangs a state of warmore bitter than any in their record, for this time it was chieftainwho had assaulted chieftain, Royal blood had been spilt.
Such was the explanation of the lull in the campaign against_Peaceful Moments_. The new war had taken the mind of SpiderReilly and his warriors off the paper and its affairs for the moment,much as the unexpected appearance of a mad bull would make a man forgetthat he had come out snipe-shooting.
At present there had been no pitched battle. As was usual between thegangs, war had broken out in a somewhat tentative fashion at first.There had been skirmishes by the wayside, but nothing more. The twoarmies were sparring for an opening.
* * * * *
Smith was distinctly relieved at the respite, for necessitating carefulthought. This was the defection of Kid Brady.
The Kid's easy defeat of Cyclone Dick Fisher had naturally created asensation in sporting circles. He had become famous in a night. It wasnot with surprise, therefore, that Smith received from his fightingeditor the information that he had been matched against one Eddie Wood,whose fame outshone even that of the late Cyclone.
The Kid, a white man to the core, exhibited quite a feudal loyalty tothe paper which had raised him from the ruck and placed him on the roadto eminence.
"Say the word," he said, "and I'll call it off. If you feel you need mearound here, Mr. Smith, say so, and I'll side-step Eddie."
"Comrade Brady," said Smith with enthusiasm, "I have had occasionbefore to call you sport. I do so again. But I'm not going to stand inyour way. If you eliminate this Comrade Wood, they will have to giveyou a chance against Jimmy Garvin, won't they?"
"I guess that's right," said the Kid. "Eddie stayed nineteen roundsagainst Jimmy, and, if I can put him away, it gets me clear into linewith Jim, and he'll have to meet me."
"Then go in and win, Comrade Brady. We shall miss you. It will be as ifa ray of sunshine had been removed from the office. But you mustn'tthrow a chance away."
"I'll train at White Plains," said the Kid, "so I'll be pretty near incase I'm wanted."
"Oh, we shall be all right," said Smith, "and if you win, we'll bringout a special number. Good luck, Comrade Brady, and many thanks foryour help."
* * * * *
John, when he arrived at the office and learned the news, was forrelying on their own unaided efforts.
"And, anyway," he said, "I don't see who else there is to help us. Youcould tell the police, I suppose," he went on doubtfully.
Smith shook his head.
"The New York policeman, Comrade John, is, like all great men, somewhatpeculiar. If you go to a New York policeman and exhibit a black eye, heis more likely to express admiration for the handiwork of the citizenresponsible for the same than sympathy. No; since coming to this city Ihave developed a habit of taking care of myself, or employing privatehelp. I do not want allies who will merely shake their heads at ComradeReilly and his merry men, however sternly. I want someone who, ifnecessary, will soak
it to them good."
"Sure," said John. "But who is there now the Kid's gone?"
"Who else but Comrade Jarvis?" said Smith.
"Jarvis? Bat Jarvis?"
"The same. I fancy that we shall find, on enquiry, that we are acehigh with him. At any rate, there is no harm in sounding him. It istrue that he may have forgotten, or it may be that it is to ComradeBrown alone that he is--"
"Who's Brown?" asked John.
"Our late stenographer," explained Smith. "A Miss Brown. Sheentertained Comrade Jarvis' cat, if you remember. I wonder what hasbecome of her. She has sent in three more corking efforts on thesubject of Broster Street, but she gives no address. I wish I knewwhere she was. I'd have liked for you to meet her."