The Ear in the Wall

by Arthur B. Reeve

  V

  THE SUFFRAGETTE SECRETARY

  Carton took us directly to the campaign headquarters of the ReformLeague, where his fight for political life was being conducted.

  We found the offices in the tower of a skyscraper, whence was pouringforth a torrent of appeal to the people, in printed and oral form ofevery kind, urging them to stand shoulder to shoulder for goodgovernment and vote the "ring" out of power.

  There seemed to me to be a different tone to the place from that whichI had ordinarily associated with political headquarters in previouscampaigns. There was a notable absence of the old-fashioned politiciansand of the air of intrigue laden with tobacco.

  Rather, there was an air of earnestness and efficiency, which wasdecidedly encouraging and hopeful. It seemed to speak of a new era inpolitics when things were to be done in the open instead of at secretmeetings and scandalous dinners, as Dorgan did them at Gastron's.

  Maps of the city were hanging on the walls, some stuck full of variouscoloured pins, denoting the condition of the canvass. Other maps of thecity in colours, divided into all sorts of districts, told how faredthe battle in the various strongholds of Boss Dorgan and Sub-bossMurtha.

  Huge systems of card indexes, loose leaf devices, labour-savingappliances for getting out a vast amount of campaign "literature" in ahurry; in short, a perfect system, such as a great, well-managedbusiness might have been proud of, were in evidence everywhere onelooked.

  Work was going ahead in every department under high pressure, for thecampaign, which had been more than usually heated, was now drawing to aclose. Indeed, it would have taken no great astuteness, even withoutone's being told, to deduce merely from the surroundings that thepeople here were engaged in the annual struggle of seeking the votes oftheir fellow-citizens for reform and were nearly worn out by thearduous endeavour.

  It had been, as I have said, the bitterest campaign in years. Formerlythe reformers had been of the "silk-stocking" type, but now a new andyounger generation was coming upon the stage, a generation which hadbeen trained to achieve results, ambitious to attain what in formeryears had been considered impossible. The Reform League was making astiff campaign and the System was, by the same token, more frightenedthan ever before.

  Carton was fortunate in having shaken off the thralldom of the oldbosses even before the popular uprising against them had assumed suchproportions as to warrant anyone in taking his political life in hishands by defying the powers that ruled behind the scenes. In fact, theReform League itself owed its existence to a fortunate conjunction ofboth moral and economic conditions which demanded progress.

  Of course, the League did not have such a big "barrel" as theiropponents under Dorgan. But, at least they did have many willingworkers, men and women, who were ready to sacrifice something for theadvancement of the principles for which they stood.

  In one part of the suite of offices which had been leased by theLeague, Carton had had assigned to him an office of his own, and it wasto this office that he led us, after a word with the boy who guardedthe approach to the door, and an exchange of greetings with variousworkers and visitors in the outside office.

  We seated ourselves while Carton ran his eye through some letters thathad been left on his desk for his attention.

  A moment later the door of his office opened and a young lady in a verystunning street dress, with a pretty little rakish hat and atantalizing veil, stood a moment, hesitated, and then was about to turnback with an apology for intruding on what looked like a conference.

  "Good-morning, Miss Ashton," greeted Carton, laying down the lettersinstantly. "You're just the person I want to see."

  The girl, with a portfolio of papers in her hand, smiled and he quicklycrossed the room and held the door open, as he whispered a word or twoto her.

  She was a handsome girl, something more than even pretty. The lithegracefulness of her figure spoke of familiarity with both tennis andtango, and her face with its well-chiselled profile denotedintellectuality from which no touch of really feminine charm had beenremoved by the fearsome process of the creation of the modern woman.Sincerity as well as humour looked out from the liquid depths of herblue eyes beneath the wavy masses of blonde hair. She was good to lookat and we looked, irresistibly.

  "Let me introduce Professor Kennedy and Mr. Jameson, Miss Ashton,"began Carton, adding: "Of course you have heard of Miss MargaretAshton, the suffragist leader? She is the head of our press bureau, youknow. She's making a great fight for us here--a winning fight."

  It seemed from the heightened look of determination which set Carton'sface in deeper lines that Miss Ashton had that indispensable politicalquality of inspiring both confidence and enthusiasm in those who workedwith her.

  "It is indeed a great pleasure to meet you," remarked Kennedy. "BothMr. Jameson and myself have heard and read a great deal about yourwork, though we seem never before to have had the pleasure of meetingyou."

  Miss Ashton, I recalled, was a very clever girl, a graduate of a famouswoman's college, and had had several years of newspaper experiencebefore she became a leader in the cause of equal suffrage.

  The Ashtons were well known in society and it was a sore trial to someof her conservative friends that she should reject what they consideredthe proper "sphere" for women and choose to go out into life and devoteherself to doing something that was worth while, rather than to fritterher time and energy away on the gaiety and inconsequentiality of sociallife.

  Among those friends, I had understood, was Hartley Langhorne himself.He was older than Miss Ashton, but had belonged to the same socialcircle and had always held her in high regard. In fact the attentionshe paid her had long been noticeable, the more so as she seemedpolitely unaffected by them.

  Carton had scarcely more than introduced us, yet already I felt surethat I scented a romance behind the ordinarily prosaic conduct of acampaign press bureau.

  It is far from my intention even to hint that the ability or success ofthe head of the press bureau were not all her own or were in any degreeoverrated. But it struck me, both then and often later, that thecandidate for District Attorney had an extraordinary interest in thenewspaper campaign, much more, for instance, than in the speakers'bureau. I am sure that it was not wholly accounted for by the fact thatpublicity is playing a more and more important part in politicalcampaigning.

  Nevertheless, as we came to know afterwards such innovations as hercard index system by election districts all over the city, showing theattitude of the various newspaper editors, local leaders, and otherinfluential citizens, recording changes of sentiment and possibleopenings for future work, all were very full and valuable. Kennedy, whohad a regular pigeon-hole mind for facts himself, was visibly impressedby the huge mechanical memory built up by Miss Ashton.

  Though he said nothing to me, I knew that Craig also had observed thestate of affairs between the reform candidate and the suffrage leader.

  "You see, Miss Ashton," explained Carton, "someone has placed adetectaphone in the private dining-room of Dorgan at Gastron's. I heardof it first through Mrs. Ogleby, who attended one of the dinners andwas terribly afraid her name would be connected with them if the recordshould ever be published."

  "Mrs. Ogleby?" cried Miss Ashton quickly. "She--at a dinner--with Mr.Murtha? I--I can't believe it."

  Carton said nothing. Whether he knew more about Mrs. Ogleby than hecared to tell, I could not even guess.

  As he went on briefly summarizing the story, Miss Ashton shot a quickglance or two at him.

  Carton noticed it, but appeared not to do so. "I suppose," heconcluded, "that she thought I was the only person capable ofeavesdropping. As a matter of fact, I think the instrument was put inby Hartley Langhorne as part of the fight that is going on fiercelyunder the surface in the organization."

  It was Carton's turn now, I fancied, to observe Miss Ashton moreclosely. As far as I could see, the information was a matter of perfectindifference to her.

  Carton did not say it in so m
any words, but one could not helpgathering that rather than seem to be pursuing a possible rival andusing his official position in order to do it, he was not consideringLanghorne in any other light than as a mere actor in the drama betweenhimself and Dorgan and Murtha.

  "Now," he concluded, "the point of the whole thing is this, MissAshton. We have learned that Betty Blackwell--you know the case--whotook the notes over the detectaphone for the Black Book, has suddenlyand mysteriously disappeared. If she is gone, it may be difficult toprove anything, even if we get the book. Miss Blackwell happens to be astenographer in the office of Langhorne & Westlake."

  For the first time, Miss Ashton seemed to show a sign of embarrassment.Evidently she would just as well have had Miss Blackwell in some otherconnection.

  "Perhaps you would rather have nothing to do with it," suggestedCarton, "but I know that you were always interested in things of thesort that happen to girls in the city and thought perhaps you couldadvise us, even if you don't feel like personally taking up the case."

  "Oh, it doesn't--matter," she murmured. "Of course, the first thing forus to do is, as you say, to find what has become of Betty Blackwell."

  Carton turned suddenly at the word "us," but Miss Ashton was stillstudying the pattern of the rug.

  "Do you know any more about her?" she asked at length.

  As fully as possible the District Attorney repeated what he had alreadytold us. Miss Ashton seemed to be more than interested in the story ofthe disappearance of Langhorne's stenographer.

  As Carton unfolded the meagre details of what we knew so far, MissAshton appeared to be torn by conflicting opinions. The more shethought of what might possibly have happened to the unfortunate girl,the more aroused about the case she seemed to become.

  Carton had evidently calculated on enlisting her sympathies, knowinghow she felt toward many of the social and economic injustices towardwomen, and particularly girls.

  "If Mr. Murtha or Mr. Dorgan is responsible in any way for any harm toher," she said finally, her earnest eyes now ablaze with indignation,"I shall not rest until someone is punished."

  Kennedy had been watching her emotions keenly, I suspect, to seewhether she connected Langhorne in any way with the disappearance. Icould see it interested him that she did not seem even to consider thatLanghorne might be responsible. Whether her intuition was correct ornot, it was at least better at present than any guess that we threemight have made.

  "They control so many forces for evil," she went on, "that there is notelling what they might command against a defenceless girl like herwhen it is a question of their political power."

  "Then," pursued Kennedy, pacing the floor thoughtfully, "the nextquestion is, How are we to proceed? The first step naturally will bethe investigation of this Little Montmartre. How is it to be done? Ipresume you don't want to go up there and look the place over yourself,do you, Carton?"

  "Most certainly not," said Carton emphatically. "Not if you want thiscase to go any further. Why, I can't walk around a corner now without ageneral scurry for the cyclone cellars. They all know me, and those whodon't are watching for me. On the contrary, if you are going to startthere I had better execute a flank movement in Queens or Jersey todivert attention. Really, I mean it. I had better keep in thebackground. But I'll tell you what I would like to do."

  Carton hesitated and came to a full stop.

  "What's the matter?" asked Kennedy quickly, noticing the hesitation.

  "Why--I--er--didn't know just how you'd take a suggestion--that's all."

  "Thankfully. What is it?"

  "You know young Haxworth?"

  "You mean the son of the millionaire who is investigating vice and whomthe newspapers are poking fun at?"

  "Yes. Those papers make me tired. He has been working, you know, withme in this matter. He is really serious about it, too. He has a corpsof investigators of his own already. Well, there is one of them, awoman detective named Clare Kendall, who is the brains of the wholeHaxworth outfit. If you would be willing to have them--er--to have herco-operate with you, I think I could persuade Haxworth---"

  "Oh," broke in Kennedy with a laugh. "I see. You think perhaps theremight be some professional jealousy? On the contrary, it solves aproblem I was already considering. Of course we shall need a woman inthis case, one with a rare amount of discretion and ability. Yes, byall means let us call in Miss Kendall, and let us take every advantagewe can of what she has already accomplished."

  Carton seized the telephone.

  "Tell her to meet us at my laboratory in half an hour," interposedKennedy. "You will come along?"

  "I can't. Court opens in twenty minutes and there is a motion I mustargue myself."

  Miss Ashton appeared to be greatly gratified at Craig's reception ofthe suggestion, and Carton noticed it.

  "Oh, yes," recollected Carton, "by the way, as I was on my way downhere, my office called up and told me that they had succeeded inlocating and arresting Dopey Jack. That ought to please you,--it willmean cutting down the number of those East Side 'rackets' considerablyif we succeed with him."

  "Good!" she exclaimed. "Yes, I don't think there were any worse affairsthan the dances of that Jack Rubano Association. They have got hold ofmore young girls and caused more tragedies than any other gang. If youneed any help in getting together evidence, Mr. Carton, I shall be onlytoo glad to help you. I have several old scores myself to settle withthat young tough."

  "Thank you," said Carton. "I shall need your help, if we are to doanything. Of course, we can hold him only for primary frauds just now,but I may be able to do something about that dance that he broke up asa shooting affray."

  Miss Ashton nodded encouragingly.

  "And," he went on, "it's barely possible that he may know something, orsome of his followers may, about the robbery of Mr. Langhorne'ssafe,--if not about the complete and mysterious disappearance of BettyBlackwell."

  "They'd stop at nothing to save their precious skins," commented MissAshton. "Perhaps that is a good lead. At any rate I can suggest that tothe various societies and other agencies which I intend to set inmotion trying to trace what has happened to her. You can have him helduntil they have time to report?"

  "I shall make it a point to do so at any cost," he returned, "and I cansay only this, that we are all deeply indebted to you for the interestyou have shown in the case."

  "Not at all," she replied enthusiastically, evidently having overcomethe first hesitation which had existed because Miss Blackwell had beenLanghorne's stenographer.

  Miss Ashton had quickly jotted down in her notebook the bestdescription we could give of the missing girl, her address, and otherfacts about her, and a list of those whom she meant to start at work onthe case.

  For a moment she hesitated over one name, then with a sudden resolutionwrote it down.

  "I intend to see Hartley Langhorne about it, too," she added frankly."Perhaps he may tell something of importance, after all."

  I am sure that this final resolution cost her more than all the rest.Carton would never have asked it of her, yet was gratified that she sawit to be her duty to leave nothing undone in tracing the girl, not evenconsidering the possibility of offending Langhorne.

  "Decent people don't seem to realize," she remarked as she shut herlittle notebook and slipped it back into her chatelaine, "how theSystem and the underworld really do affect them. They think it is allsomething apart from the rest of us, and never consider how closely weare all bound together and how easy it is for the lowest and mostvicious stratum in the social order to pass over and affect thehighest."

  "That's exactly the point," agreed Carton. "Take this very case. Itgoes from Wall Street to gangland, from Gastron's down to theunderworld gambling joints of Dopey Jack and the rest."

  "Society--gambling," mused Miss Ashton, taking out her notebook again."That reminds me of Martin Ogleby. I must see Mary and try to warn heragainst some of those sporty friends of her husband's."

  "Please, Miss Ashton," put in
Carton quickly, "don't mention that Ihave told you of the detectaphone record. It might do more harm thangood, just at present. For a time at least, I think we should try tokeep under cover."

  Whether or not that was his real reason, he turned now to Kennedy forsupport. We had been, for the most part, silent spectators of what hadbeen happening.

  "I think so--for the present--at least as far as our knowledge of theBlack Book goes," acquiesced Craig. He had turned to Miss Ashton andmade no effort to conceal the admiration which he felt for her, aftereven so brief an acquaintance. "I think Miss Ashton can be dependedupon to play her part in the game perfectly. I, for one, want to thankher most heartily for the way in which she has joined us."

  "Thank you," she smiled, as she rose to go to her own office. "Oh, youcan always depend on me," she assured us as she gathered up herportfolio of papers, "where there are the interests of a girl likeBetty Blackwell involved!"