“I did not have any textbooks and, to be sure, the Doctors were closemouthed about it all, and the chemist, she was even worse than the Doctors. But the way I figured it out, those girls were cutting something out of those Chinks and making some kind of a medicine out of it and shipping it to Paris, and it must have been awfully valuable, judging from the cash they were getting and spending. Every operation cost a hundred, to say nothing of the cost of running the hospital and taking care of the patients until they were able to leave, land besides that, there must have been over a million spent to soothe the really big people in China—perhaps several million more.
“Of course, they got the money from somewhere—gold in that amount does not grow on bushes—but where they got it from is not as interesting to me as what they were doing it for, and why there were only women in it. Perhaps it was some kind of beauty culture treatment; you know women in Paris and New York will pay anything to be made good-looking.
“But I do not believe it was beauty they were after. I helped, at the last of my stay there, with a few of the operations, and I do not think they were after beauty. It must be something different from that—anyway, I finally got the best of Ming Fu. I do not think he will bother me anymore. You know you gave me unlimited credit; well, I spent some of it in bribery, and the first thing Ming Fu knew he had been drugged by some of his men and brought to the hospital. He was a big, handsome brute, and the doctors thought he was one of the finest specimens they had found. They liked his heavy beard, as most of the Chinks did not have so much hair on their faces. They did a bilateral operation on him—most of them they just operated on one side—and when Ming Fu came out of the ether and finally recovered from his dope to realize what had happened to him, he was real provoked. We had to keep him tied down for a while, and even the fact that they gave him two hundred dollars instead of one hundred did not seem to relieve his feelings. Finally, he became so raw in his actions that the Marines had to kick him out of the hospital. He had his men attack the city the next week, and it looked for a while as though he was going to get us, Marines or no Marines, but they finally drove him off. I think he recognized me as he was dragged out of the hospital by the Marines—at least he said some horrible language to me—but I think the operation took away a lot of his pep.
“It was soon after that that the hospital broke up. The last night I was there I managed to see the records. They must have done a lot of those operations. It seems that they had been working night and day for months. Anyway, they quit. The hospital was turned over to the Government as a present, and the girls all went to Shanghai. I gave some of the doctors presents of my jewelry. They were sort of keen about jewelry, even if they were ranting all the time about the equality of the sexes. Then I left the country by the quickest route and came back by way of Europe. I spent a little time in Paris; in fact, I grew a little beard on my way back—I was so tired of shaving three times a day that it was a relief not to have to shave at all. But I suppose I will have to cut it off before I go west; my wife likes a smooth-shaven husband, and, of course, you know, I am a married man, very much of a married man, though I feel that I have almost forgotten the fact for a minute or two during the last half year.”
The Chief of the Secret Service of the United States slowly replaced his revolver in the desk and sighed.
“You are a remarkable operator, Taine. I do not know of anyone just like you. You are so peculiarly matter of fact. You either have no nerves, or you are too dumb to know what danger is. You go over to China and lead that life for half a year, you impersonate a Chinese girl, you even go right into the hospital and finally help them operate on your most dangerous enemy in that heathen land, and then you come back and tell about it all just as the average man would tell about a trip to Coney Island. You tell me all about it—about those girls, as you call them, and you do not even intimate that your curiosity was aroused. Personally, I am a rather self-possessed man, but I had all I could do to keep from interrupting you. What were they doing it for? Where did they get all that money? Who was in back of it? And, by the Seven Sacred Beasts! What did they cut out of those poor Chinks? You calmly sit there and tell all about it, and you have not told me a single thing I want to know except that the girls are gone and the hospital is being run by men and that they sent some kind of dope to Paris in bottles. ‘Pon my word, man, have you no imagination? No curiosity? Why did you come back before you learned the whole story? Something big is going on, and you sit there and tell me about giving jewelry to women. Bah! You ought to be kicked off the force.”
“I wish I were,” sighed Taine. “This little female dog looks like my old buddy, but she is not half as bright as he was. That’s the way with all the women. You ought to have heard the doctors talk in the hospital. Do you know something? I believe there is a secret society of women, something like the Masons. I could sort of feel it, but I have not a single fact to prove it. Now, if there was such a society, that might account for part of it. I believe that I just nibbled at one corner of a Brazil nut like a blooming mouse. It is bigger than we think, Chief; something is going on, and that hospital was just a little piece of it. Now, in regard to the operation: I learned a little about that in Paris. What those girls did was to perform an operation called gonadectomy.”
The Chief turned red.
“You think you’re smart, don’t you. Springing a new word like that on a man, just to show how smart you are. What did they do to those little men? You tell me or I will have a stroke of apoplexy.”
“Don’t get excited, Chief,” replied Taine, as he put the little black dog back in his pocket. “You would not believe me if I told you, not even a little bit of it. If I told you all that I really think about this, you would accuse me of having become an opium smoker. I had that happen to me once. Remember when the Circle Internationale exploded? Well, I started in one night to tell my Chief out in San Francisco about it, and before I got half way through he called me a liar. I don’t want you to do that. Here is a written report and the vouchers for my expenses. Of course, I had to spend some money, but I think it will be worth it to somebody. In fact, I think that you are going to call me back to Washington before long, and perhaps when you do I will nibble a little more at that same nut; maybe we shall find it rather rotten. Some of my imaginations about that affair are certainly peculiar. Oh! I forgot to tell you. There is a new College for Women in the suburbs of Paris. Very exclusive, and all that sort of thing. They tell me a lot of American women have been going there for the last two years. Some kind of a finishing school. Women come and go, and there is a high wall around the whole property. No men admitted. Convent. Now, just one thing more, Chief. Those girls in China were shipping all that dope in the little glass bottles to that address in Paris. That is why I looked it up. That is about the only reason I had for going to Paris. Does that mean anything to you? You think about it for a while. Use your imagination.”
Chapter IV: A Silent Revolution
Perhaps something might have come out of Taine’s trip to China at once had it not been predestined otherwise. The Washington Chief read the lengthy report that night and made up his mind that something ought to be done about it. But then that very night trouble broke loose from the I.W.W., and for the next six weeks every government operator was busy, and as a result, the report that Taine made was forgotten. When it was remembered, its importance was underestimated, and many valuable months passed.
Slowly the masculine minds of America, the great Captains of Industry, became worried over a peculiar state of affairs. The control of many of the leading companies of the nation was passing over into the hands of a new financial group. Many of the banks were being directed by members of the same group. Already they had charge of a great Trans-Continental railroad. Aviation Consolidated was slowly coming under their power, and even Radio and Television Associated Companies, one of the wealthiest of all the new financial giants, was being undermined by their active efforts to secure fifty per cent of the D
irectorate.
It had just been a few years when the entire charge of these basic industries had been securely in the hands of men between forty-five and seventy, big, two-fisted, go-getters, who knew what they wanted, were willing to pay the price, and who never ceased fighting till they won their objective. Most of them were college graduates, many of them had been in their undergraduate days, great athletes. Every one of them, even the old men, still loved gold and the open air, and some of them still hoped to live in Paris when they died.
It took them a long time to realize that anything out of the usual was taking place. Even after they realized it and began to resent it, they were uncertain as to the proper action to take. They were big men, but, after all, it took big men to look at a great sociological movement, from a national standpoint; and this thing that was happening was affecting the entire nation.
It was something that was slowly, insidiously, pervading the business life of every State. For some reason, it was hard to analyze, difficult to comprehend; but there was no problem in realizing that the economic supremacy of the giant group of go-getters was being directly challenged.
After all, it was not the fact that their rule was being contested by a new group that bothered them. Had it been just that, they would have been willing to effect some kind of a working compromise and divide the spoils. It was the personality of their opponents that aroused their ire and constant resentment.
In the first place, the new leaders were young men who were hard workers and did not seem to know the value of recreation. They simply seemed determined to drive themselves and all the subordinates under them till the day’s work was done and good part of the next day’s work done in addition. They were not only hard workers, but they were efficient, and when they started in to accomplish a task, they usually stayed at it till they won out. Of course, the go-getters, the old-timers, had the same determination, but the old men used clubs and bludgeons to accomplish their purpose, and all these young men were smooth; and when they won a financial victory, they did so before their opponents realized what was happening to them. They were smooth, suave, and remarkably clever.
Another irritating quality was their ability to dress well. The old-timers spent a lot of money on their clothes, but for some reason, they never looked well dressed, while these younger men had the peculiar ability of always being just a little ahead of the prevailing masculine fashion. It was not long before the tailors had to admit that they were being dictated to and that these youthful financiers were really telling the tailors what the styles of the next six months would be. Their clothing was masculine, but, at the same time, it had a dash of color to it, a peculiar something that was different. When one of this group walked down Fifth Avenue, his general appearance was such as to make passing women, and men also, turn to look again at him.,
Without exception, they were well groomed, took wonderful care of themselves, shaved twice daily, and avoided, in every way, the breath of scandal. In a quiet way, they participated in all forms of civic improvements, and it seemed that everything that they had a hand in succeeded. They seemed to carry around them an atmosphere of success. They seemed to have resources to begin with, and without exception, they all appeared able to make money.
Socially, they did not fraternize with the old-timers. They made no effort to join the ancient clubs that had always been considered the height of fame. Instead, they established in every large city clubs of their own, which, for exclusiveness and fashionableness, seemed in every way to completely eclipse the established social centers of the rich men of the land. It was this very exclusiveness, this tendency to act as though they considered themselves better in some way, that worried the older men. Why, the young upstarts would not even accept their invitations to play golf with them!
And, finally, affairs reached such a point that something had to be done. Politicians became upset. The Millionaires’ Club in the Senate at Washington was invaded. And, eventually, one of those sleek young men actually had the nerve to suggest that he run for President, and advanced many excellent reasons why he should be permitted to do so. With that, the battle was on!
Yet, even then, no one seemed to have a clear idea of what all the stifled excitement was about. It was all very well to whisper, but what was the use of either whispering or shouting, when there was really nothing to say? Besides, there were just a lot of people who were not backward in stating that the country might be better off in the control of these younger men, and it was all the more credit to them if they were a little particular in their dress and reserved in their manner. At least they were hard workers and could almost always be found in their offices instead of being “in conference” or out on the golf links.
* * * *
The old business group became uneasy; then they became more uneasy. They finally reached the point at which they actually grew nervous. There had been several raids on Wall Street, gigantic, underground attacks on the multi-millionaires, that increased their anxiety. And finally, they decided that something must be done about it. They had conferences and special investigations, and nothing happened; they were just as ignorant, just as much at sea as they ever had been. Then one day, in utter desperation, one of the big men of the group (a man so big that he sat with a few others in a back room in a hotel and sent word to a Republican Convention whom they should nominate for president) went to Washington, saw the President, and secured from him a written and signed order to the effect that the Secret Service Department should render such aid as was in their power.
Naturally, the rich man saw the Chief of the Secret Service.
After listening to the story of the man from New York, the chief secretly thought that he was listening to a paranoiac chaser of moon-beams.
“I really do not know what you want my department to do, Mr. Johnson,” he finally answered. “It seems that you are afraid of something and yet cannot give me any definite idea of what it is. Certainly you do not fear these men in a business sense. Our department cannot protect you against superior brains of financial opponents. This is a free country. And with the past success of the group that you represent, you certainly ought to feel competent to deal with them on the stock exchange.”
That kind of answer made Johnson mad. He was not accustomed to it. Yet, at the same time, he realized that it was a well-deserved criticism. He started to answer it, stuttered, stopped, started again, and finally blurted out,
“One of the things that makes us so tarnation mad is the fact that those upstarts are playing bridge all the time, and when we ask them to join us in a real he-man’s game, like golf, they always cut us cold—say they are too busy. Yet they have the crust to put up a twenty-five-million-dollar clubhouse, the finest in New York, and call it the Bridge Club, and, so far, not one of the men that I know has been invited to join.”
“Now that,” replied the Chief, “is real news. If you only had a dozen more facts like that, we might have some idea of what the trouble was.”
“Well, I am no detective. I thought that was your business.”
“It is; but, at the same time, we have to have something to start with. We cannot raid the biggest private club in New York just because some of you gentlemen are sore that you are not invited to join.”
“We don’t want to join them, but, all the same, they way they act makes us sore. Pretending they are so much better than we are. Won’t join us in any of our deals—just won’t have anything to do with us—and all the time trying to knife us, secure control of our corporations—why, they even think they should have a voice in who is to be President.”
The more Johnson talked, the more positive the Secret Service Chief was that the New Yorker was simply sore and trying to secure revenge for fancied slights or actual financial losses. The Chief was a busy man, and had all he could do with the counterfeiters and patriotic citizens who were trying to smuggle jewelry across the borders. At the same time, he was a politician. He knew that this man could not be handled brusquely. So
, he shut his eyes, leaned back in his chair, and passed into an attitude of deep thought. Meantime, the money-king savagely chewed his pipe stem.
“I think that the best thing to do,” finally announced the Chief, “is for you to go out to San Francisco and see Taine, a detective connected with the Department out there. I will give you a letter to his Chief that will help you. He is a wonderful man, a real detective, and he has imagination.”
“Why not have him come to New York and see me?”
“I do not think he would do that. He won’t work for you at all unless he really wants to. He is temperamental. Yes! That is the thing for you to do. If Taine wants to, he will get to the bottom of this mystery.”
Johnson slowly shook himself out of the chair.
“Guess I will go. Some one has to get to the bottom of it, or those upstart bridge-playing fools will take our clothes away from us. Write your letter, and I will get the next train west. Wish I could travel in a plane, but I am too old for it.
Chapter V: A Ring Turns Up
For a few years Taine had been having the time of his life. That meant hunting a few murderers of the common variety, running down some opium importations, and even doing a little political work on the side. His monthly salary was not large, but he had some extra cash in the bank, and his living expenses were not great. Three years had passed since his trip to China. Life had become very ordinary, almost commonplace. He was nearly on the point of believing that not much could happen. Then, within a week, a number of unusual circumstances called his attention to the fact that there were several lines of investigation that needed a real detective to work on them. Secretly, Taine thought that he was a great man; in fact, he believed that he was as good a detective as there was in America; at times he even went beyond that and included England and the Continent.
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