CHAPTER X
WHEN THE TRAIN COMES IN
Burke was sent up to Grand Central Station the following morning byCaptain Sawyer to assist one of the plain-clothes men in theapprehension of two well-known gangsters who had been reported bytelegraph as being on their way to New York.
"We want them down in this precinct, Burke, and you have seen thesefellows, so I want to have you keep a sharp lookout in the crowd whenthe train comes in. In case of a scuffle in a crowd, it's not bad tohave a bluecoat ready, because the crowd is likely to take sides.Anyway, there's apt to be some of this gas-house gang up there towelcome them home. And your club will do more good than a revolver ina railroad station. You help out if Callahan gives you the sign,otherwise just monkey around. It won't take but a few minutes, anyway."
Burke went up to the station with the detective.
They watched patiently when the Chicago train came in, but there was nosign of the desired visitors. The detective entered the gate, when allthe passengers had left, and searched the train.
"They must have gotten off at One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street, fromwhat the conductor could tell me. If they did, then they'll be nabbedup there, for Sawyer is a wise one, and had that planned," saidCallahan. "I'll just loiter around the station a while to see anyfamiliar faces. You can go back to your regular post, Burke."
Bobbie bade him good-bye, and started out one of the big entrances. Ashe did so he noticed a timid country girl, dressed ridiculously behindthe fashions, and wearing an old-fashioned bonnet. She carried arattan suitcase and two bandboxes.
"I wonder if she's lost," thought Burke. "I'll ask her. She looksscared enough."
He approached the young woman, but before he reached her a well-dressedyoung man accosted her. They exchanged a few words, and the fellowevidently gave her a direction, looking at a paper which she clutchedin her nervous hand. The man walked quickly out of the building towardthe street. Unseen by Burke, he whispered something to another nattilyattired loiterer, an elderly man, who started toward the "car stop."
As Burke rounded the big pillar of the station entrance the man againaddressed the country girl.
"There's your car, sis," he said, with a smile. Bobbie looked at himsharply.
There was something evil lurking in that smooth face, and the fellowstared impudently, with the haunting flicker of a scornful smile in hiseyes, as he met the gaze of the policeman.
The country girl hurried toward the north-bound Madison Avenue car,which she boarded, with several other passengers. Among them was thegray-haired man who had received the mysterious message.
Burke watched the car disappear, and then turned to look at the smilingyoung man, who lit a cigarette, flicking the match insolently near thepoliceman's face.
"Move on, you," said Burke, and the young man shrugged his shoulders,leisurely returning to the waiting room of the station.
Burke was puzzled.
"I wonder what that game was? Maybe I stopped him in time. He lookslike a cadet, I'll be bound. Well, I haven't time to stand around hereand get a reprimand for starting on a wild-goose chase."
So Burke returned to the station house and started out on his rounds.
Had he taken the same car as the country girl, however, he would haveunderstood the curious manoeuvre of the young man with the smile.
When the girl had ridden almost to the end of the line she left the carat a certain street. The elderly gentleman with the neat clothes andthe fatherly gray hair did so at the same time. She walked uncertainlydown one street, while he followed, without appearing to do so, on theopposite side. He saw her looking at the slip of paper, while shestruggled with her bandboxes. He casually crossed over to the sameside of the thoroughfare.
"Can I direct you, young lady?" he politely asked.
He was such a kind-looking old gentleman that the girl's confidence waseasily won.
"Yes, sir. I'm looking for the Young Women's Christian Association. Ithought it was down town, but a gentleman in the depot said it was onthat street where I got off. I don't see it at all. They're allprivate houses, around here. You know, I've never been in New YorkCity before, and I'm kinder green."
"Well, well, I wouldn't have known it," said her benefactor. "TheY.W.C.A. is down this street, just in the next block. You'll see thesign on the door, in big white letters. I've often passed it on my wayto church."
"Oh, thank you, sir," and the country girl started on her quest oncemore, with a firmer grip on the suitcase and the bandboxes.
Sure enough, on the next block was a brownstone building--more or lessdilapidated in appearance, it is true--just as he had prophesied.
There were the big white letters painted on a sign by the door. Thegirl went up the steps, rang the bell, and was admitted by a tousled,smirking negress.
"Is this here the Y.W.C.A.?" she asked nervously.
"Yassim!" replied the darkie. "Come right in, ma'am, and rest yohbundles."
The girl stepped inside the door, which closed with a click that almoststartled her. She backed to the door and put her hand on the knob. Itdid not turn!
"Are you _sure_ this is the Y.W.C.A.?" she insisted. "I thought it wasa great big building."
"Oh, yas, lady; dis is it. Yoh all don't know how nice dis buildin' isontel you go through it. Gimme yoh things."
The negress snatched the suitcase from the girl's hand and whisked oneof the bandboxes from the other.
"Here, you let go of that grip. I got all my clothes in there, and Idon't think I'm in the right place."
As she spoke a plump lady, wearing rhinestone rings and a necklace ofthe same precious tokens, whom the reader might have recognized as noother than the tearful Madame Blanche, stepped from the parlor.
"Oh, my dear little girl. I'm so glad you came. We were expectingyou. I am the president of the Y.W.C.A., you know. Just go rightupstairs with Sallie, she'll show you to your room."
"Expecting me? How could you be? I didn't send word I was coming. Ijust got the address from our minister, and I lost part of it."
"That's all right, dearie. Just follow Sallie; you see she is takingyour clothes up to your room. I'll be right up there, and see that youare all comfortable."
The bewildered girl followed the only instinct which asserteditself--that was to follow all her earthly belongings and getpossession of them again. She walked into the trap and sprang up thestairs, two steps at a time, to overtake the negress.
Madame Blanche watched her lithe grace and strength as she sped upwardswith the approving eye of a connoisseur.
"Fine! She's a beauty--healthy as they make 'em, and her cheeks areredder than mine, and mine cost money--by the box. Oh, here comes Pop."
She turned as the door was opened from the outside. It was a doorwhich required the key from the inside, on certain occasions, and itwas still arranged for the easy ingress of a visitor.
"Well, Blanche, what do you think?" inquired the benevolent oldgentleman who had been such an opportune guide to the girl fromup-State.
"Pop, she's a dandy. Percy can certainly pick 'em on the fly, can'the?"
"Well, don't I deserve a little credit?" asked the old gentleman, hisvanity touched.
"Yes, you're our best little Seeing-Noo-Yorker. But say, Pop, Percyjust telephoned me in time. We had to paint out that old sign, "helpwanted," and put on 'Y.W.C.A.' Sallie is a great sign painter. We'llhave trouble with this girl. She's a husky. But won't Clemm roll hiseyes when he sees her?"
"Naw, he don't regard any of 'em more than a butcher does a new pieceof beef. He's a regular business man, that's all. No pride in hisart, nor nothing like that," sighed Pop. "But that girl made a hitwith me, old as I am. She's a peach."
"Well, she won't look so rosy when Shepard shows her that she's got tomind. He's a rough one, he is. It gets on my nerves sometimes. Theyyell so, and he's got this whip stuff down too strong. You know Ithink he's act'ally crazy about beatin' them girls,
and makin' themagree to go wherever we send 'em. He takes too much fun out of it, andwhen he welts 'em up it lowers the value. He'll be up this afternoon.We must have him ease it up a bit."
"Oh, well, he's young, ye know," said Pop. "Boys will be boys, andsome of 'em's rough once in a while. I was a boy myself once." And hepulled his white mustache vigorously as he smiled at himself in thelarge hall mirror.
"You'd better be off down to the station again, Pop," said MadameBlanche. "They're going to send over two Swedish girls from Molloy'sin the Bronx this afternoon, and then put 'em on through to St. Paul.I've got a friend out there who wants 'em to visit her. Then Baxtertelephoned me that he had a little surprise for me, later to-day. He'sbeen quiet lately, and it's about time, or he'll have to get a job inthe chorus again to pay his manicure bills."
Pop took his departure, and, as Sallie came down the stairs with asmile of duty done, Madame Blanche could hear muffled screams fromabove.
"Where is she, Sallie?"
"She's in de receibin' room, Madame. Jes' let 'er yowl. It'll do hergood. I done' tol' er to save her breaf, but she is extravagant. Waitontil Marse Shepard swings dat whip. She'll have sompen to sing about!"
And Sallie went about her duties--to put out the empty beer bottles forthe brewery man and to give the prize Pomeranian poodle his morningbath.
Madame Blanche retired to her cosy parlor, where, beneath the staringeyes of her late husband's crayon portrait, and amused by the squawkingof her parrot, she could forget the cares of her profession in thelatest popular problem novel.
On the floor above a miserable, weeping country lassie was beating herhands against the thick door of the windowless dark room until theywere bruised and bleeding.
She sank to her knees, praying for help, as she had been taught to doin her simple life back in the country town.
But her prayers seemed to avail her naught, and she finally sank,swooning, with her head against the cruel barrier. Back in therailroad station, Percy and his kind-faced assistant, Pop, wereprospecting for another recruit.
Traffic in Souls: A Novel of Crime and Its Cure Page 13