Traffic in Souls: A Novel of Crime and Its Cure

  CHAPTER XIII

  LORNA'S QUEST FOR PLEASURE

  In the same morning papers Burke saw lengthy notices of the engagementof Miss Sylvia Trubus, only child of William Trubus, the famousphilanthropist, to Ralph Gresham, the millionaire manufacturer ofelectrical machinery.

  "There, that should interest Mr. Barton. His ex-employer is marryinginto a very good family, to put it mildly, and Trubus will have a veryrich son-in-law! I wonder if she'll be as happy as I intend to makeMary when she says the word?"

  He cut one of the articles out of the paper, putting it into his pocketto show Mary that evening. He had a wearing and sorrowful day; histestimony was important for the arraignment of the dozen or morecriminals who had been rounded up through his efforts during thepreceding twenty-four hours. The gloom of Maguire's death held him inits pall throughout the day in court.

  He hurried uptown to meet Mary as she left the big confectionery storeat closing time.

  Mary had been busy and worried through the day. At noon she had goneto the station to bid goodbye to Henrietta Bailey, who was now well onher way to the old town and Joe.

  As the working day drew to a close Mary was kept busy filling a largeorder for a kindly faced society woman and her pretty daughter.

  "You have waited on me several times before," she told Mary, "and youhave such good taste. I want the very cutest bon-bons and favors, andthey must be delivered up on Riverside Drive to our house in time fordinner. You know my daughter's engagement was announced in the papersto-day, while we had intended to let it be a surprise at a big dinnerparty to-night. Well, the dear girl is very happy, and I want thisdinner to give her one of the sweetest memories of her life."

  Mary entered into the spirit with zest, and being a clever saleswoman,she collected a wonderful assortment of dainty novelties andconfections, while the manager of the store rubbed his hands togethergleefully as he observed the correspondingly wonderful size of the bill.

  "There, that should help the jollity along," said Mary. "I hope I havepleased you. I envy your daughter, not for the candies and the dinner,but for having such a mother. My mother has been dead for years."

  The tears welled into her eyes, and the customer smiled tenderly at her.

  "You are a dear girl, and if ever I have the chance to help you I will;don't forget it. I am so happy myself; perhaps selfishly so. But mylife has been along such even lines, such a wonderful husband, and sucha daughter. I am so proud of her. She is marrying a young man who isvery rich, yet with a strong character, and he will make her very happyI am sure. Well, dear, I will give you my address, for I wish youwould see personally that these goodies are delivered to us withoutdelay."

  Mary took her pad and pencil.

  "Mrs. William Trubus--Riverside Drive."

  The girl's expression was curious; she remembered Bobbie's descriptionof the husband. It hardly seemed possible that such a man could beblessed with so sweet a wife and daughter--but such undeservedblessings seem too often to be the unusual injustice of Fate in thistwisted, tangled old world, as Mary well knew.

  "All right, Mrs. Trubus; I shall follow your instructions and will goto the delivery room myself to see that they are sent out immediately."

  "Good afternoon, my dear," and Mrs. Trubus and her happy daughter leftthe store.

  Mary was as good as her word, and she made sure that the severalparcels were on their way to Riverside Drive before she returned to thefront of the store. When she did so she saw a little tableau,unobserved by the busy clerks and customers, which made her heart standstill.

  Lorna was standing by one of the bon-bon show cases talking to a tallstranger who ogled her in bold fashion, and a manner which indicatedthat the conversation was far from that of business.

  "Who can that be?" thought Mary. An intuition of danger crept over heras she watched the shades of sinister suggestion on the face of the manwho whispered to her sister.

  The man was urging, Lorna half-protesting, as though refusing someenticing offer.

  Mary stepped closer, and the deep tones of the stranger's voice filledher with a thrill of loathing. It was a voice which she felt she couldnever forget as long as she lived.

  The deep tones of the stranger's voice filled her with athrill of loathing.]

  "Come up to my office with me when you finish work and I'll book you upthis very evening. The show will open in two weeks, and I will giveyou a speaking part, maybe even one song to sing. You know I'm strongfor you, little girl, and always have been. My influence counts alot--and you know influence is the main thing for a successful actress!"

  Mary could stand it no longer.

  She touched Lorna on the arm, and the younger girl turned aroundguiltily, her eyes dropping as she saw her sister's stern questioninglook.

  "Who is this man, Lorna?"

  The stranger smiled, and threw his head back defiantly.

  "A friend of mine."

  "What does he want?"

  "That is none of your affair, Mary."

  "It is my affair. You are employed here to work, not to talk with mennor to flirt. You had better attend to your work. And, as for you, Ishall complain to the manager if you don't get out of here at once!"

  The stranger laughed softly, but there was a brutal twitch to his jawas he retorted: "I'm a customer here, and I guess the manager won'tcomplain if I spend money. Here, little girlie, pick me out a nice boxof chocolates. The most expensive you have. I'm going to take mysweetheart out to dinner, and I am a man who spends his money right.I'm not a cheap policeman!"

  Mary's face paled.

  Her blood boiled, and only the breeding of generations of gentlewomenrestrained her from slapping the man's face. She watched Lorna, whocould not restrain a giggle, as she took down a be-ribboned candy box,and began to fill it with chocolate dainties.

  "Oh, if Bobbie were only here!" thought Mary in despair. "This man isa villain. It is he who has been filling Lorna's mind with stage talk.I don't believe he is a theatrical man, either. They would not insultme so!"

  The manager bustled about.

  "Closing time, girls. Get everything orderly now, and hurry up. Youknow, the boss has been kicking about the waste light bills which yougirls run up in getting things straight at the end of the day."

  Mary turned to her own particular counter, and she saw the big manleave the store, as the manager obsequiously bowed him out.

  In the wardrobe room where they kept their wraps, Mary took Lornaaside. Her eyes were flaming orbs, as she laid a trembling hand uponthe girl's arm.

  "Lorna, you are not going to that man's office?"

  "Oh, not right away," responded her sister airily. "We are going toMartin's first for a little dinner, and maybe a tango or two. What'sthat to you, Mary? Stick to your policeman."

  Mary dropped her hand weakly. She put on her hat and street-coat,hardly knowing what she was doing.

  "Oh, Lorna, child, you are so mistaken, so weak," she began.

  "I'm not weak, nor foolish. A girl can't live decently on the moneythey pay in this place. I'm going to show how strong I am by earning areal salary. I can get a hundred a week on the stage with my looks,and my voice, and my ... figure...."

  In spite of her bravado she hesitated at the last word. It was alittle daring, even to her, and she was forcing a bold front tomaintain her own determination, for the girl had hesitated at the man'spleadings until her sister's interference had piqued her into obstinacy.

  "It won't hurt to find out how much I can get, even if I don't take theoffer at all," Lorna thought. "I simply will not submit to Mary'sdictation all the time."

  Lorna hurried to the street, closely followed by her sister.

  "Don't go, dear," pleaded Mary.

  But there by the curb panted a big limousine, such as Lorna had alwayspictured waiting for her at a stage door; the big man smiled as he heldopen the door. Lorna hesitated an instant. Then she espied, comingaround the corner toward them, Bobbie Bu
rke, on his way to meet Mary.

  That settled it. She ran with a laugh toward the door of theautomobile and flounced inside, while the big man followed her,slamming the portal as the car moved on.

  "Oh, Bob," sobbed Mary, as the young officer reached her side. "Followthem."

  "What's the matter?"

  "Look, that black automobile!"

  "Yes, yes!"

  "Lorna has gone into it with a theatrical manager. She is going on thestage!" and Mary caught his hand tensely as she dashed after the car.

  It was a hopeless pursuit, for another machine had already come betweenthem. It was impossible for Burke to see the number of the car, andthen it turned around the next corner and was lost in the heavy traffic.

  "Oh, what are we to do?" exclaimed Mary in despair.

  "Well, we can go to all the theatrical offices, and make inquiries. Ihave my badge under my coat, and they will answer, all right."

  They went to every big office in the whole theatrical district. Butthere, too, the search was vain. Mary was too nervous and wretched toenjoy the possibility of a dinner, and so Burke took her home. Herfather asked for Lorna, to which Mary made some weak excuse whichtemporarily quieted the old gentleman.

  Promising to keep up his search in restaurants and offices, Burkehurried on downtown again. It was useless. Throughout the night hesought, but no trace of the girl had been found. When he finally wentup to the Barton home to learn if the young girl had returned, he foundthe old man frantic with fear and worriment.

  "Burke, some ill has befallen the child," he exclaimed. "Mary hasfinally told me the truth, and my heart is breaking."

  "There, sir, you must be patient. We will try our best. I can startan investigation through police channels that will help along."

  "But father became so worried that we called up your station. Theofficer at the other end of the telephone took the name, and said hewould send out a notice to all the stations to start a search."

  "Great Scott! That means publicity, Miss Mary. The papers will havethe story sure, now. There have been so many cases of girlsdisappearing lately that they are just eager for another to write up."

  Mary wrung her hands, and the old man chattered on excitedly.

  "Then if it is publicity I don't care. I want my daughter, and I willdo everything in the world to get her."

  Burke calmed them as much as he could, but if ever two people werefrantic with grief it was that unhappy pair.

  Father and daughter were frantic with grief.]

  Bobbie hurried on downtown again, promising to keep them advised aboutthe situation.

  After he left Mary went to her own room, and by the side of the bedwhich she and the absent one had shared so long, she knelt to ask forstronger aid than any human being could give.

  If ever prayer came from the depths of a broken heart, it was thatforlorn plea for the lost sister!

  All through the night they waited in vain.

  * * * * *

  The first page of every New York paper carried the sensational story ofthe disappearance of Lorna Barton. Not that such a happening wasunusual, but in view of the white slavery arrests and the gang fight inwhich Bobbie Burke had figured so prominently; his partial connectionwith the case, and those details which the fertile-minded reporterscould fill in, it was full of human interest, and "yellow" as the heartof any editor could desire.

  Pale and heart-sick Mary went down to Monnarde's next morning. Thegirls crowded about her in the wardrobe room, some to express realsympathy, others to show their condescension to one whom they inwardlyfelt was far superior in manners, appearance and ability.

  Mary thanked them, and dry-eyed went to her place behind the counter.For reasons best known to himself, the manager was late in arrivingthat morning. The minutes seemed century-long to Mary as she hopedagainst hope.

  A surprisingly early customer was Mrs. Trubus, who came hurrying infrom her big automobile. She went to Mary's counter and observed thegirl's demeanor.

  "Dear, was it your sister that I read about in the paper this morning?"she inquired.

  "Yes," very meekly. Mary tried to hold back the tears which seemed sonear the surface.

  "I am so sorry. I remembered that you once spoke of your sister whenyou were waiting on me. The paper said that she worked here atMonnarde's, and I remembered my promise of yesterday that I would doanything for you that I could. Mr. Trubus is greatly interested inphilanthropic work, and of course what I could do would be very smallin comparison to his influence. But if there is a single thing...."

  "There's not, I'm afraid. Oh, I'm so miserable--and my poor dear olddaddy!"

  Even as she spoke the manager came bustling into the store. He hadevidently passed an uncomfortable night himself, although from anentirely different cause. In his hand he bore the morning paper, whichhe just bought outside the door from one of several newsboys who stoodthere shouting about the "candy store mystery," as one paper hadheadlined it.

  "See, here!" cried he, turning to Mary at once. "What do you mean bybringing this disgrace down upon the most fashionable candy shop in NewYork. You will ruin our business."

  "Oh, Mr. Fleming," began Mary brokenly, "I don't understand what youmean. I have done nothing, sir!"

  "Nothing! _Nothing_! You and this miserable sister of yours!Complaining to the police, are you, about men flirting with the girlsin my store? Do you think society women want to come to a shop wherethe girls flirt with customers? No! I'm done right now. Get your hatand get out of here!"

  "Why, what do you mean?" gasped the girl, her fingers contracting andtwitching nervously.

  "You're fired--bounced--ousted!" he cried. "That's what I mean." Heturned toward the other girls and in a strident voice, unmindful of thetwo or three customers in the place, continued. "Let this be a lesson.I will discharge every girl in the place if I see her flirting. Theidea!"

  And he pompously walked back to his office as important as a toad in alonely puddle.

  Mary turned to the counter, which she caught for support. One of thegirls ran to her, but Mrs. Trubus, standing close by, placed a motherlyarm about her waist.

  "There, you poor dear. Don't you despair. This is a large world, andthere are more places for an honest, clever girl to work in than acandy store run by a popinjay! You get your hat and get right into mycar, and I will take you down to my husband's office, and see what wecan do there. Come right along, now, with me."

  "Oh, I must go home!" murmured Mary brokenly.

  But at the elderly woman's insistence she walked back, unsteadily, tothe wardrobe room for her hat and coat.

  "How dare you walk out the front way," raved the manager, as she wasleaving with Mrs. Trubus.

  Mary did not hear him. The tears, a blessed relief, were coursing downher flower-white cheeks as the kindly woman steadied her arm.

  "Well! That suits me well enough," muttered Mr. Flemingphilosophically, as he retired to his private office. "I lost a lot atpoker last night--and here are two salaries for almost a full week thatwon't go into anyone's pockets but my own. First, last and always, abusiness man, say I."