Harry F. Liscomb, "The Prince of Washington Square" (1925) (full text)
The PRINCE OF WASHINGTON SQUARE
AN UP-TO-THE-MINUTE STORY
BY
HARRY F. LISCOMB
NEW YORK
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
MCMXXV
Copyright, 1925, by
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
All rights reserved
Printed in the United States of America
PUBLISHERS' NOTE
The publishers present this unusual story in the form in which the manuscript was submitted to them, its original atmosphere
undisturbed by editorial blue-pencil.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. INTRODUCING JACK LAYTON ALIAS
THE PRINCE OF WASHINGTON SQUARE
I. THE PRINCE OF WASHINGTON SQUARE PROTECTS THE SERVILE SUBJECTS OF HIS DOMAIN
III. THE PRINCE OF WASHINGTON SQUARE'S CASTLE
IV. THE HAUNTED CHAMBER
V. THE TRICK CIGAR
VI. THE PRINCE OF WASHINGTON SQUARE CONVOKES HIS BODY-GUARDS TOGETHER
VII. OUT FOR DEVILRY
VIII. THE THREAT OF WING SING, THE CHINAMAN
IX. THE SPY
X. WHEN RIVAL FACTIONS MEET THERE'S BOUND TO BE TROUBLE BREWING IN THE ATMOSPHERE
XI. THE BATTLE OF WASHINGTON SQUARE
XII. CHEESE IT, THE COPPERS!
XIII. THE TRUTH ABOUT CAKE-EATERS AND FLAPPERS
XIV. MOONLIGHT AND ROMANCE
XV. A FIFTH AVENUE FLAPPER IN DISTRESS
XVI. THE PRINCE OF WASHINGTON SQUARE RECEIVES A BIRTHDAY INVITATION FROM THE FIFTH AVENUE FLAPPER
XVII. THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BIG AFFAIR
XVIII. THE VENGEANCE OF TONY, THE ERSTWHILE BOOTBLACK BULLY
XIX. BLIGHTED HOPES
XX. MIDSUMMER INFATUATION AVENUE FLAPPER
XXI. THE ABDUCTION OF THE FIFTH
XXII. TERRY ON THE TRAIL
XXIII. $100,000 REWARD FOR THE ARREST AND CONVICTION OF THE ABDUCTORS OF THE FIFTH AVENUE FLAPPER
XXIV. BETWEEN DUTY AND AVERSION
XXV. JACK AND RASTUS ARRIVE IN THE NICK OF TIME
XXVI. RAZORS AND FISTS
XXVII. THE LAST OF THE BLACK HAND GANG
XXVIII. A GRATEFUL FATHER
XXIX. ALL DOLLED UP AND SOME PLACE To Go.
XXX. HARLEMITES PAGE
XXXI. RASTUS, THE SELF-STYLED SHEIK, STRUTS HIS STUFF WITH HIS DUSKY DESIGNING SHEBA
XXXII. KID RASTUS VERSUS KID PUT-'EM-TO-SLEEP
XXXIII. HORSESHOE LUCK
XXXIV. SHE BROKE HIS HEART AND HE BROKE HER JAW
XXXV. COME SEVEN, COME ELEVEN
XXXVI. RASTUS RUNS WILD
STANSVILLE
XXXVII. TERRY LOSES HIS BEST FRIEND
XXXVIII. THE IRONY OF FATE
XXXIX. GLADSOME TIDINGS
XL. ALL ABOARD FOR STANSVILLE ACADEMY
THE PRINCE OF
WASHINGTON SQUARE
THE PRINCE OF
WASHINGTON SQUARE
CHAPTER I
Introducing Jack Layton alias The Prince of Washington Square
A PROMISCUOUS assemblage of newsboys and bootblacks had congregatedunder the impressive and memorial archway in Washington Square to witness the unusual and unfair scrap between a languid-looking youngster of twelve summers and a big, overgrown bully five years his senior. The squabble had commenced over a trivial matter.
The small, spunky bootblack had stoutheartedly declined to relinquish his stand of business to the large, domineering shoeshine artist, who had grown outrageously jealous of Terry Lewis as he observed him deposit two dollars in dimes and nickels into the pockets of his tattered trousers.
Suffice it to be stated right here that Terry was the sole support of his widowed and bedridden mother. Terry was deformed in one leg, but this unfortunate affliction didn't deter or hamper him in any way from effecting a fair livelihood for his invalid parent and himself as well.
The trouble-brewer had strived his utmost to bulldoze Terry into meek submission, and failing miserably, much to his deep chagrin, to carry out his dastardly plan he resorted to an effective and arrant procedure. Tony Rago, the abominable bootblack bully, then swaggered up to Terry, who was preoccupied jingling the honest and hard-earned coins in his pants and whistling a carefree melody through his oval lips to dawdle away the idle moments until a prospective patron hovered into sight. He seized Terry's wrist and twisted it in a viselike grip.
"Gimme da monge or me breaka da arm,' grated Tony, savagely.
"Try and make me!" retorted the pale-faced youngster spiritedly.
Terry's display of spirit and defiance astounded Tony. He had anticipated Terry to surrender his day's earnings without showing the slightest sign of resistance. Steadfast to his threat, Tony started to contort Terry's arm out of commission, and immediately afterwards his helpless victim gave vent to a cry of intolerant anguish, which caused a number of wide-awake newsboys and energetic bootblacks to abandon their commercial establishments for the duration being and betake themselves to the place from whence the appealing outcry for assistance had come. Subconsciously the youthful bread-winners thronged themselves eagerly and curiously around Tony and his whimpering prey and looked helplessly on, while he carefully rifled Terry's pockets for the currency.
Terry kicked, scratched, mauled, and as an ultimate recourse tried to entomb his teeth into the flesh of his relentless tormentor; but, needless to state, his courageous efforts went for naught inasmuch as he was a mere bantling in the puissant arms of the desperate bootblack bully.
Finally Tony obtained the money, although his ugly face was gory in a dozen or more spots from scratches inflicted on him by his struggling and snivelling young victim. With a gloating expression on his scarred and blood- smeared countenance, he ordered the immature and frightened spectators to step aside and let him pass. Instantly the awe-stricken newsboys and bootblacks created an opening for the light-fingered usurper to flit thru sans being molested by them, while Terry stood leaning against one of the concrete pillars of the colossal arch with his sandy-haired head resting on his bosom and sobbing hysterically.
As Tony was hastily making his escapade through the motley gathering of newsboys and bootblacks, someone grabbed him violently by his collar and arrested his footsteps.
"What's the big rush, young man? I have a word or two to say to you." The bold speaker was none other than Jack Layton, an orphaned newsboy mutually recognized by his host of friends under the popular sobriquet of "The Prince of Washington Square." As we proceed with the narrative we shall eventually ascertain how well Jack merited the title his sentimental chums had conferred on him.
The Prince of Washington Square was a handsome, manly, and superbly muscled youth of fifteen, with a buoyant disposition towards his compatriots. His ebon hair had been combed and parted flawlessly in the center.
It was springtime of the year. The majority of the newsboys and bootblacks gadded about bareheaded and coatless while disposing expertly of their various wares. They wore sleeveless shirts of every description and color and their knee-breeches and trousers were fashioned out of dark material. Jack was attired in a white low-necked shirt with short sleeves, and brown baggy pants. Tucked securely under his left armpit was his batch of undispensed evening papers.
CHAPTER II
The Prince of Washington Square Protects the Servile Subjects of His Domain
TONY grew chicken-hearted with dismay and consternation as his boyish nemesis accosted him in reckoning fashion and glanced apprehensively about him for some avenues of escape, but none were available; mainly attributed to the fact that they had been hemmed in purposely by the jubilant newsboys and bootblacks, who were extremely anxious to watch the bootblack bully receive his just desserts at the avenging hands of The Prince of Washington Square.
There was no alternative for Tony. He was like a rat cornered by a cat. In order to procure his liberty again he would have to contend strenuously with Jack; but, being a born poltroon at heart, he assayed his best to protract it as long as possible.
"Wot yuh wont wid me?" snarled Tony, with a slight tremor in his voice.
"It is my desire you return the stolen money to its original owner," spoke up Jack unflinchingly.
Biff! Tony's huge and scrawny fist fell like a thunderbolt and caught his unwary opponent on the point of his chin.
Unprepared for this unexampled poltroonery on the part of Tony, Jack crashed heavily to the pavement, while a sudden gale swept the journals out of his unstable grasp and sent them swirling up the adjacent streets. His uncovered head struck the ground with considerable force. He was rendered inert by the collision for a few fleeting moments, and his adolescent admirers believed he sustained a fractured skull. Unfortunately for Tony, The Prince of Washington Square wasn't the type of lad who could be knocked hors-de- combat with a cowardly coup. The Prince of Washington Square, unassisted by his loyal subjects, staggered sluggishly to his feet and confronted Tony with a vindictive scowl on his visage. "For the last time, Tony, I'm admonishing you to give the money back to Terry!" snapped Jack angrily.
"Come an' git eet," challenged Tony defiantly.
The Prince of Washington Square didn't need a second cajolery. He advanced cautiously and commenced the inevitable conflict for supremacy by planting a healthy blow betwixt his eyes and driving home a stinging jab to his defenseless body. Tony doubled up like a jack-knife before this fierce assault and emitted a painful grunt. Always on the alertness to follow up an advantageous opportunity, Jack elevated Tony two feet from the street with a terrific uppercut to his pugnacious jaw and stretched him prone on his stomach with a snappy punch to his solar plexus.
The electrified newsboys and bootblacks jumped and shouted for glee as they watched the cursory downfall of Tony. The Prince of Washington Square towered menacingly over the prostrate form of Tony with clenched fists and resolute features. Athirst for revenge, Terry joggled his passageway through the hooting and deriding crowd of newsboys and bootblacks and prodded his inexorable tormentor in the ribs with his shoe. Terry's next stunt was to relieve the cowed bootblack bully of the dough which he had deliberately taken from him. After gratefully thanking Jack for his timely interposition in his behalf, Terry receded into the exhilarated throng of the breadwinning youngsters, where he was received with great eclat for his gameness.
Maddened and exasperated to the verge of desperation, Tony artfully whipped out his stiletto and sprang suddenly to his feet with a vengeful threat emanating from his lips.
"Me killa yuh." The newsboys and bootblacks stood aghast with horror as Tony rushed madly at The Prince of Washington Square with his dangerous weapon clasped firmly in the palm of his hand. Jack brazenly maintained his ground till his enraged adversary was almost upon him afore he kicked vigorously at his would-be slayer's wrist. The knife went hurtling through space. The Prince of Washington Square and Tony, the bootblack bully, clinched desperately with one another and toppled over together in a huddled heap.
And thus under the immemorial archway they rolled over and over, each one endeavoring to attain the upper hand of the other.
Many damaging blows were bandied during the revengeful scuffle, with Tony receiving the worst of it. However, Tony was a regular glutton for assimilating the straightlaced chastisement administered to him by The Prince of Washington Square. His eyes had been blackened and his nose was bleeding profusely; but he gamely fought back at his practically unscathed opponent with the ferocity and prowess of a wounded beast of the wilds of Africa. After Jack had methodically loosened several of his filmcoated molars, Tony reflected morosely to himself it was time to call quits.
"Lemme up!" advocated Tony tearfully, as Jack sat squarely on his heaving chest. "Me no wanna fighta yuh any more." This was the long awaited confession that Jack had to punish brutally out of Tony.
Silently and sullenly Jack rose to his feet, thereby permitting his soundly thrashed adversary to do likewise, while the newsboys and bootblacks gazed at them in speechless astonishment.
Minus the defense of his dirk, Tony slowly withdrew to a safe distance, and after shaking his ponderous fist at The Prince of Washington Square, he threatened to even the score some day in the near future. Jack sportively pretended he was going to pursue him, and Tony rounded the proximate corner as though "Old Nick" himself was after him. The newsboys and bootblacks were exalted over the hasty egress of Tony, the erstwhile bootblack bully. Virtuously speaking, Jack was the hero of the day.
CHAPTER III
The Prince of Washington Square's Castle
THE castle was nothing more than a modern three-storied brick building with a bronze frontage. Mrs. Elizabeth Downing, the jolly and squat landlady of the premises, was an attractive-looking widow of middle age. She was well contented with the blissful society of her one and only offspring Beatrice, who was an unusually pretty and golden- haired virgin of fourteen.
At the stringent behest of her beloved mother, Beatrice always had her hair arranged in pigtails. Beatrice also possessed that rare combination of brains and beauty.
She was about ready to graduate from grammar school, and in addition to this noteworthy achievement was the honor savant of her class.
When her instructive textbooks had been closed for the day, Beatrice would wend her way homeward in the cheerful company of her fast-stepping and bobbed-haired schoolmates, with their painted cheeks and rouged lips. It would take a discerning observer scarcely more than a transitory second to distinguish the natural loveliness of Beatrice's angelic features and the artificial makeup of her flippant friends. Beatrice was the representation of girlhood that discreet boys adored and worshiped from afar.
As Destiny decreed it, Beatrice and her up- to-the-minute cronies happened along in the nick of time to observe The Prince of Washington Square polish off his inferior opponent, Tony, the bootblack bully, in his commendable style. After Jack had scored his clean-cut and overwhelming victory over his angry adversary, Beatrice, eager to be the first to congratulate him, coquettishly smiled her passage to the flushing young gentleman's side; but, strange to relate, her four older classmates had beaten her to it by the simple process of pushing and shoving one another through the startled group of newsboys and bootblacks. The flappers dabbed The Prince of Washington Square affectionately on his back, and two of them were brazen enough to osculate him on his rubicund jowls, much to his social contretemps.
Beatrice hung her head like a withered flower and longed to sob the pangs of jealousy out of her palpitating heart. Jack adroitly perceived Beatrice's jealous actions out of the corner of his eye, and after acquiring her schoolbag, he slipped a protective arm around her slender waist, and sauntered away in the direction of their comfortable domicile, while the flappers stared pop-eyed at their receding figures with a dumb dora mien on their cosmetic faces. The nerve of him! Jilting ultra-modern finale hoppers like them for the prosaic company of their chum Beatrice, for instance. Oh, well! He wasn't worth worrying their precious heads about anyway. Moreover, if he had been a full-fledged cake-eater he wouldn't have dared to turn down four flappers, who merely wished to curry favor from him and his close companionship.
While this train of saturnine reveries traveled swiftly thru their flighty minds, they resolved to be on their way again.
Imediately thereafter the finale hoppers flapped forth from under the memorial archway amid the jeers and sneers of the departing newsboys and bootblacks.
It was nigh six o'clock that night when Jack and Beatrice arrived at Mrs. Downing's boarding and rooming house. Mrs. Downing's eight star boarders were gathered around the food-laden table fretfully awaiting the belated arrival of her bewitching daughter and her fearless escort. Beatrice hurried through the basement corridor to her tiny but neatly furnished chamber, tidied herself up a bit in front of her dresser mirror, and skipped gaily into the dining-room.
chirped good-evening to the hungry and fretful boarders in her charming manner, and settled herself into her favorite chair. As soon as Jack had put in his tardy appearance, Mrs. Downing's star boarders would be permitted to wreak havoc on the tempting and savory viands placed before them.
The eight star boarders were comprised of three garrulous spinsters and five confirmed bachelors. They were hungrily perturbed over the prolonged absence of Jack, and were also wondering what was detaining him.
Presently the buxom Mrs. Downing, having temporarily discarded her kitchen apron, waddled into the aromatic dining-room accompanied by her leal butler and factotum about the house, one Mr. Rastus Brown, who was a burly-looking blackamoor with a bald pate. Mrs. Downing seated herself at the head of the table, and Rastus sat alongside of Professor John Sharp. The latter was an erudite practitioneer of astronomy at Columbia University. Because of his remarkable aptitude for astronomic pursuits the moneyed and bespectacled old maids were enviously in love with Professor Sharp. They were willing to wag their tattling tongues from dawn to dusk to captivate the heart of their witty and grandiloquent idol. Everyone loves gossip bearers, eh, what? Unknown to anybody save himself, Professor Sharp was sweet on Mrs. Downing. Why? Because he regarded her as being the sweetest and cleverest chef in the vicinage of Washington Square. Each and every designing female knows that the surest and quickest way to a man's innermost recess is via the paunch route. And that's that.
Professor Sharp and Rastus had been the worst of enemies ever since that tragic day when the former had unexpectedly dropped into his room and apprehended the trusted negro butler in the act of smoking his last cigar. In full justice to Professor Sharp, let it be said that smoking cigars were his greatest joys in that intangible mystery so commonly referred to as life. Usually after his substantial victuals had been consumed, and the dinner dishes had been cleared from the table, the well-learned professor had a penchant for puffing away at his fat cigars of the superlative brand, and between puffs related some mirth-provoking puns or ghost narratives. Professor Sharp detested the very nearness of Rastus; but he was powerless to alter the discommoding situation, for the singular reason that Mrs. Downing appraised the meritorious service of her faithful old butler at a priceless cost.
Rastus had the annoying trait of smacking his thick red lips together as his deluxe dish was set before him on the table. His favorite delight consisted of a whole chicken prepared especially for him by Mrs. Downing. While the star boarders were furrowing their brows with anxiety and twiddling their thumbs to loll away the famished moments, Rastus amused himself and others by nudging the dignified professor in the slats with his elbow, to animate him to sit up and take particular notice of the dainty dish put before the butler. Professor Sharp disliked anything that Rastus relished; subsequently his dignity was marred and cheapened beyond vocables.
At twenty minutes past six Jack breezed into the dining-room and after cheerfully greeting the hungry boarders, he slumped into his vacant chair. The star boarders were so starved that they failed to perceive the immaculate clothes Jack was sporting at the table nor the cleanness of his face, ears, neck and hands. When Mrs. Downing had pronounced grace on the grub the star boarders, led by Rastus, launched a vicious assault on the appetizing provisions.
CHAPTER IV
The Haunted Chamber
FOLLOWING the completion of their hearty repast, the star boarders retreated into the living-room, leaving Rastus and Mrs. Downing and Beatrice to tend to the disposition of the supper plates. In one corner of the cozy after-dinner retreat Professor Sharp and his bachelor friends sat serenely smoking their pipes or stogies, while in another the society of tattling tongues were noisily engaged in discussing the scandalous topics of the day with their congenial selves. The busybodies wagged their tattling tongues incessantly for a quarter of an hour before they decided to retire for the night and repose their buzzing bones. After taking congé of the bored bachelors, the spectacled spinsters repaired to their rooms.
When the purple portières had safely shrouded their retreating shadows from the critical observation of the bachelors, Jack, who had been vainly essaying to peruse the opening chapters of the current dime novel thriller by Nicholas Carter, momently reposited it on his chair and executed a complicated handspring on the soft sinking rug, which was well applauded by the audience for his unscheduled performance. After his acrobatic feat had been successfully performed, Jack hustled himself into his seat and again started to imbibe the hair-raising contents of his book in peace for the first time since his access into the rest-room.
As the readers may have already surmised, Jack had been left an orphan at an early age and had been making his abode ever since that deplorable day with Mrs. Downing, who had befriended him in a maternal manner.
Professor Sharp extracted from his pocket his nickel-plated watch to learn the duration of the evening. The little black hands registered seven o'clock on the dot. One hour later and Mrs. Downing and her fascinating daughter Beatrice were supposed to be ready to accompany Jack and himself to a far-famed playhouse on the Great White Way. Oh, yes!
The society of tattling tongues had not the faintest idea of the treat they were missing by their early retirement. Tough on them would undoubtedly be your sympathetic soliloquy.
Well, perchance. Who knows? Hark to what Professor Sharp's friends have to state in reference to the hard luck that had befallen the human journals of scandal school.
"Serves those busybodies doggone right," was the unanimous ultimatum rendered to Professor Sharp when he announced his intention of treating Mrs. Downing and Beatrice and Jack to a musical comedy show playing to capacity crowds on Broadway.
Meanwhile Rastus, arrayed in his butler's livery, shuffled nonchalently into the smoke-charged room. He stumbled designedly over the outstretched legs of Professor Sharp, and when the latter got huffy at him for his apparent clumsiness, he advised him to pick up his feet and stow them away in his pockets.
Rastus's sound advice to the mortified Professor Sharp brought forth a guffaw from the audience. After bumming a good cigar from one of the bachelors, Rastus seated himself in a chair alongside of Professor Sharp, and mischievously began to ape him by sending spirals of smoke to the ceiling. Professor Sharp fumed with bile and threatened to throw him head first out of the living-room. After squirming about in his chair for a moment or two, Rastus produced from his hip-pocket a gleaming razor and asked the unnerved professor if he were fatigued of earthly existence and wanted to pay his compliments to the monarch of Hades. Rastus flourished his trusty weapon dangerously near his pallid countenance and Professor Sharp nervously assured him he wasn't hankering to depart life so soon on this earth. As far as Rastus was concerned, the incident was closed; but Professor Sharp was of a different consensus of opinion. To him the incident was still open and wasn't going to be hushed up by anyone except himself.
Meanwhile Jack and the rest of the star boarders had been helplessly convulsed with laughter. They laughed until tears welled their eyes and their sides became racked with pains. Professor Sharp felt like the proverbial two-cent piece. He endeavored to intimidate Rastus into vacating the room, by looking daggers at him, but the playful butler blew a ring of smoke into his face and tapped his hip-pocket to remind him his razor was primed for immediate use.
After the excitement and the hilarity had somewhat abated, the four bachelors customarily prevailed on Professor Sharp to regale them with a few of his famous ghost stories.
Being an obliging cuss, as the saying goes, Professor Sharp commenced to rack his prolific brain for material to spin some of his hair-raising tales. Professor Sharp exercised extreme care in spinning spook yarns that would prey on the superstitious nature of Rastus and thus avenge himself for the humiliations he had previously sustained at the mouth and hands of the impudent butler.
When Professor Sharp had recounted three of his celebrated spook stories, Rastus, hounded mentally by the visionary umbrage of traditional superstition, began to feel uneasy and wished he hadn't entered the room. But he had made his wish too late. Damnation! What foolhardy impulse had influenced him to enter that accursed place anyhow? Of course he might have known it was none other than the incentive for curiosity.
Now he was going to pay the penalty for his inquisitiveness by having his slumber perturbed with the reappearance of the departed souls of yesterday. He had to remain in the room with the rest of Professor Sharp's spellbound audience or else be branded a superstitious coward. Furthermore, who ever heard of a razor-armed gentleman of color being scared stiff by the unwelcomed presence of a ghost! Why, the very idea itself was preposterous! That is to say, the notion sounded absurd to Rastus, who termed himself a God- fearing negro.
Professor Sharp, after glancing casually at Rastus to observe the nervous effects his spooky yarns had worked on him, commented jubilantly to himself that revenge was sweet.
The clock on the mantlepiece broke the silence Professor Sharp had cast upon his enthralled hearers by striking eight bells.
Some seconds later Mrs. Downing detailed Beatrice to inform Professor Sharp and Jack that they were ready to accompany them to the show. Professor Sharp and Jack wasted not a single moment in donning their coats and headgear. After bidding Rastus and the bachelors goodnight, Professor Sharp and Jack eased their way out of the living-room.
Outside, Professor Sharp hailed a passing taxi and instructed the chauffeur to take them to the histrionic district of Broadway.
In the meantime Rastus and the bachelors, being early risers, resolved to hit the hay.
Rastus's chamber was on the same floor with Jack's and Professor Sharp's. Before he dozed off to sleep on his cot Rastus hid his dependable razor underneath his spotless pillow for protection, in case those uninvited ghosts should decide to visit him during the night. The door had been locked safely and the window was fastened tightly, to preclude the possibility of an apparition gaining admittance through them. But, alas and alack for Rastus! He had grossly neglected to leave the key in the lock.
Later on in the evening, when Professor Sharp and his theatrical party returned, they found the house wrapped in profound slumber. With the possible exception of Jack, everyone had enjoyed the show immensely.
For reasons of his own Jack was overanxious to seek the seclusion of his sleeping-quarters.
After wishing everybody pleasant dreams for the night, Jack groped his way up the darkened stairway to the initial landing, where his orbs grew accustomed to the light.
He clambered tirelessly up the remaining two flights of stairs and vanished into his sanctum.
A few minutes later he emerged from his bedroom with a sheet thrown thoughtlessly about his supple figure. Jack paused momentarily in front of Rastus's chamber and inserted his skeleton key into the lock. He opened the door noiselessly and glided into the bedroom.
Rastus was sound asleep. Jack passed his hand across the forehead of the heavy sleeper and crept quietly out of the chamber, leaving the door ajar.
Rastus stirred uneasily beneath his bedclothes and suddenly sat upright in his cot.
Beads of perspiration rolled down his cheeks, and his eyes bulged from their sockets. He was afraid to move a limb, and yet he didn't fancy the plan of contracting a fatal cold by sitting or slumbering in a draft. Who in the Sam Hill had opened his door at that hour of the evening? Shortly thereafter he summoned up enough courage to ease himself into his bathrobe and put on his slippers. Trembling with trepidation, he shambled to the doorway. He slammed the door shut and parked himself on the edge of the bed. After arming himself with his trustworthy razor Rastus tarried for the second visitation of his strange midnight visitor.
Again the door flew wide open with a loud bang, and Rastus shook from head to feet with clicking teeth and visible apprehension expressed on his face. He was now too weak and faint with fear to hold his weapon, which clattered noisily to the floor. Rastus was completely at the clemency of his midnight visitant.
Jack was an expert exponent of ventriloquism and commenced to make use of his unnatural power. He softly called out Rastus's name thrice in succession, and then extinguished the electric lights on the landing.
Following this operation, he scampered back to his room to escape detection by the owl-like peepers of the affrighted butler. Rastus was quaking with consternation in his soul, but managed somehow or other to reach the door and peeped timidly up and down the small hall. He switched on the lights again and ventured to the top of the stairs to detect some signs of the twelve-o'clock prowler. This afforded Jack an excellent chance to sneak into his bedroom, and, standing like an immobile statue, he bided patiently for Rastus to reenter his chamber.
Unsuccessful in his effort to locate the whereabouts of his midnight visitor, Rastus returned to his bedroom, and was treated to the most shocking surprise of his eventful career. Gliding forward with extended arms to salute him was his dreaded midnight visitor and the ruthless perturber of his dreams- the ghost. The spectral shock was too much for Rastus's unstrung nerves to tolerate any longer. Contradictory to the usual custom, Rastus fainted athwart his bedclothes.
Having executed his prank to perfection Jack closed the door gently behind him and retreated gaily into his bedroom.
CHAPTER V
The Trick Cigar
NEXT morning at the breakfast table Rastus reported to the attentive Mrs.
Downing his harrowing experience with the white-sheeted guardian of his haunted chamber and requested her to change his room.
Mrs. Downing compassionately relieved his troubled mind by assuring him his request would be fulfilled within twenty-four hours.
The droll, characteristic style in which Rastus had narrated his ghostly tale of woe evoked a spontaneous laugh from the star boarders.
The dining-room fairly quaked with the tremendous volume of their unrepressed mirth.
Professor Sharp's sudden and boisterous outburst of merriment at his expense instigated Rastus's fiery temper to its flamingpoint. Rastus appeared to be quite petulant over the ridiculing reception Professor Sharp and his associates had prepared for him. It was ostensible to Rastus that Professor Sharp and the rest of the star boarders had a peculiar sense of humor. If they or anyone else could discern something ludicrous in having a real honest-to-goodness wraith frighten the wits out of a pious person like himself, for example, Rastus surely did not. Essentially talking, he was a man of comparatively few words save when he was enticed into playing a game of "Galloping Dominoes" with members of his own race who abided peacefully at times in Harlem, which was commonly recognized as New York's "Little Africa." That night, after supper was over, Professor Sharp sent Jack out to purchase a good smoke for him. While going out the basement door Jack was intercepted by Rastus, who mutely presented him with the object of his errand, and admonished him not to say a word about it. Jack noticed the mischievous twinkle in Rastus's large brown orbs and knew immediately that he was up to his devilish tricks again. He promised to aid the mischief-loving butler in his impish scheme by refusing to divulge his cognomen to anyone.
With his mind at ease, and contentment showing plainly on his features, Rastus concealed himself in the heavy folds of the curtains to await the development of his idle prank, while Jack proceeded serenely into the smoking-parlor.
Unsuspectingly, Professor Sharp received the stogy from Jack and thanked him gratefully for purchasing it for him. After igniting the cigar Professor Sharp reared his comfortable chair up on its hind legs and began to puff away for all he was worth. Goaded on by profound admiration for his cigar, Professor Sharp remarked exultantly to his friends that it was undoubtedly the best one he had ever smoked in his life. Suddenly and sans the least admonition, Professor Sharp's superb stogy burst into a thousand or more atoms.
For a moment or two Professor Sharp was too stupefied and shocked to give utterance to any vocal expressions. When Professor Sharp recovered his sangfroid of vision he glanced searchingly about the living-room in a fruitless attempt to apprehend the little imp who had astutely succeeded in getting him to smoke the trick cigar. Professor Sharp displayed his real sportsmanship by apprising the bachelors that Jack had put one over on him; while Rastus, peering prudently through a slit in the curtains, chortled to his heart's satisfaction at the crowning success of his devilish prank.
Rastus hurriedly abandoned his hiding- place behind the curtains when one of the bachelors rose stiffly out of his seat and started toward him on his way to the kitchen, to quench his thirst with a glass of crystalline water which was not subject to dutiful raids from Uncle Sam's prohibition agents.
CHAPTER VI
The Prince of Washington Square Convokes His Bodyguards Together
PROFESSOR SHARP had seen to it that Jack's schooling had not been lugubriously neglected by him. Jack had to report the first three nights of each week to Professor Sharp's study for his lessons. The night being Friday, Jack was privileged to do as he pleased.
After Jack had delivered the cigar to Professor Sharp, and not desiring to linger in the smoking-parlor to enjoy the practical joke that was about to be pulled off on him, he hastened out of the room. He betook himself to the illuminated archway in Washington Square.
The park was practically deserted except for some ragged and unkempt-looking individuals, who had just reached the metropolis in time to acquire the edible handouts of a brand-new charity organization that had sprung up during their long sojourn in other parts of the country. In the park they could eat and sleep without the slightest fear of the food profiteer elevating the prices of his provisions nor of the money-mad landlord raising the rents of those less unfortunate. There was only one thing in this world of strife and discord that they entertained a hobo dread for —and that thing was a policeman's bludgeon.
To them the policeman seemed to be the most merciless and heartless of all creatures. If a patrolman apprehended one of them parking himself on public property he would not hesitate to beat him with his truncheon and order him to move on. "What is life without a wife" may read or sound good to the aspirant young man, but to a happy-go-lucky tramp who doesn't believe in shouldering the responsibilities of connubial beatitude, the idea was a fantastic one. After greedily consuming the remnants of their recent handouts the five do-as-you-please vagabonds stretched themselves out at full length on the benches and mechanically relaxed into the realm of peaceful visions.
Jack was biding beneath the renowned archway in Washington Square, against one of the gigantic pillars, with his dukes thrust deeply in his trousers, obviously in grave contemplation of something that was of vital import to him. Impulsively taking out a big whistle that someone very dear to him had donated to him as a birthday present, Jack placed it to his mouth and lustily blew several shrill blasts on it to summon his comrades.
A tall, bony-looking lad, around Jack's age, with a freckled complexion, and who had been christened Daniel O'Connor, was the first to grasp the extended palm of his red-blooded highness, The Prince of Washington Square.
Terry then hobbled into sight, followed pantingly by Toby White, who was toting and perspiring under his arm a second-hand mandolin, of which he had developed a yearning passion for.
When his trio of bodyguards had bowed and clasped his hands in friendly fashion, Jack bade them to rest themselves on the ground and make themselves at home. Substituting action for words, Jack seated himself on the pavement and Terry and Toby did likewise, while Dan remained standing on his feet for evident reasons. Terry, who sat alongside of Toby, showed a deep interest in his music-box because he had never owned one. Propping himself up against a concrete pillar of the magnificent arch, Toby began to thrum his stringed instrument and croon to himself the latest jazz hits. Meantime Dan was committing some impromtu dances of his original creation and was roundly applauded by his cronies for his artistic ambitions. Terry voluntarily regaled his devoted confrères by warbling in his beautiful and self-cultured voice the most recent song sensations.
Jealous of the plaudits and handclaps that had greeted the singsong achievements of his crippled predecessor, Toby tried to surpass his splendid record by trilling one of his own ditties titled "Why Fat Boys are Popular with the Girls." Because of his superfluous poundage Toby's oral organs couldn't or wouldn't tolerate the exacting strain they were being compelled to undergo, so that their selfish young master might carry off the singing honors of the night, consequently they planned to teach him an unforgetful lesson.
Ere Toby could conclude his song two beardless and jolly-mannered policemen came running to the spot to determine who was being murdered so brutally. Jack was on his feet in an instant and laughingly explained to them it was merely Toby trying out his matchless voice. The two jocund patrolmen cautioned Toby to keep his face shut hereafter or they would be under the painful necessity of taking him into their custody for perturbing the serenity of the vicinage.
All het up over what the coppers had implied to him, Toby snatched his mandolin away from Terry and wabbled sluggishly away from the place. After Toby had put ten yards between him and the patrolmen he whirled awkwardly about on his heels and, at the top of his lusty lungs, bellowed out tauntingly: "Brass-button Bluecoats Couldn't Catch Nannygoats."
The light-hearted cops stepped a few paces forward as though they were bent on chasing him, and Toby ran so swiftly that his clumsy feet got tangled up with each other and he · fell flat on his mandolin with disastrous results. Mewling like a new-born babe over the misfortune that had overtaken his highly prized music-box, Toby scooped up the fragments of it in his hands and gamely retraced his steps to where the coppers and his buddies were awaiting his return. Toby reposed himself beside Terry and Dan, vainly striving to mend the dismembered pieces of his mandolin together.
At a special mandate from the two coppers, Jack began to dance "The Charleston Cut- away," the most current and popular negro-foot classic conceived by the sheiks and shebas encamping in the ethiopian zone of Harlem.
Day after day Rastus had painstakingly taught the newest dance sensation to Jack, until he was able to master it to a "T." Doubtlessly Rastus would have beamed with exultation had he been there to give his talented pupil the once-over as he went on with the dance midst the applause of the five witnesses.
At the conclusion of "The Charleston Cutaway" Jack was the gay recipient of fifty cents in awards from the two appreciative patrolmen. The well-entertained coppers then bid Jack and his pals adieu and went their way.
Jack instinctively inquired of his expectant companions if he were to secure an apple pie for them would they be willing to assist in the consumption of it, and unitedly they answered.
him in the affirmative. Dan was given what was termed by his chums the signal honor of buying the apple pie, and Jack had the thankless privilege of paying for it.
After Jack had tendered each of his cronies a large slice of apple pie, Toby was the only one in the group disgruntled with his share, while the others ate in silence. Angered at Toby because of his lack of appreciation for things given him through gratis, Jack concocted to give him all the pie he could possibly stow away in his feedbag. He took Terry aside and held a whispered confabulation with him, and afterwards slipped two bits into his hand. When Terry returned with another apple pie and proffered it to Toby, his palpitating heart knew no bounds of felicity. Eagerly he untied the package and sank his molars into its juicy contents, while his chums slyly winked at one another. Toby had not taken more than two smacks out of the pie before he made the burning discovery that someone had injected red pepper into it. Unsuccessfully Toby assayed to pass the adulterated pie on his laughing buddies, who refused to accept it from him. While he was totally at his wits' end as to how he was going to rid himself of the distasteful pie, a stray, shagged dog, wearing a woe-be-gone expression on his features, came up to him, licked his hands in humble veneration, and was awarded the unwanted pie by the chubby-cheeked youngster.
The half-famished animal, who evidently hadn't eaten anything for hours, was happy to get the apple pie despite the truth it comprised ingredients which singed the palate of one's orifice.
CHAPTER VII
Out For Devilry
LATER in the evening Jack suggested to his followers that they pay a visit to Isadore Cohen's clothing establishment, where one could purchase anything in the line of haberdashery. His suggestion met with the eager approbation of his youthful adherents.
Isadore Cohen was the astute and niggard proprietor of the most progressive suit and cloak store in the vicinity. Niggardliness was Cohen's middle name. Rather than sustain the agony of spending a nickel for a shoeshine or three cents for the daily paper, he went without them. Lately Cohen had been held up at the point of a gun by masked brigands and robbed of a tidy sum of money. The robbery almost gave Cohen, the bearded and shrewd-looking haberdasher of Washington Square, failure of the heart, but his avarice for mammon soon started him on the road to quick recovery from his recent ailments.
Cohen shrewdly added a few cents more to every article of clothing in his shop to recoup his financial deficit.
Jack left his companions lingering on the outside looking in, while he strode ambitiously into the store. As was his habitual method when a likely-looking customer strolled into his place, Cohen stroked his beard contemplatively for a second or so, and then selected a suit of clothes he honestly calculated would make a swell fit for him. Jack cleverly deluded him into believing he didn't like the loud color nor the cheap material of it. To use Jewish phraseology, Cohen picked out another niftick suit for him.
Terry and Toby and Dan had all they could do to repress their jocundity.
After Cohen had fitted seven or eight suits on his young and mischievous customer he ascertained from him that he hadn't contemplated purchasing any clothes until the fall of the year. Jack also told Cohen he was going to purchase them elsewhere for more reasonable rates. Cohen collapsed into a nearby chair, buried his hirsute visage in his hands, and groaned aloud these words: "Oy, wot un cruel world dis eet!"
CHAPTER VIII
The Threat of Wing Sing, the Chinaman
JACK wisely left Cohen to his gloomy contemplations, while he safely rejoined his pals outside the shop. Their next victim was Wing Sing, the middle-aged Chink who conducted the only laundry in the neighborhood.
They pushed open his door and began to chant playfully:
"Wing Sing Chinaman,
Chew dead rats for ginger snaps."
After being a patient hearer for a short space of time, Wing Sing grabbed a heated flatiron from the stove and hop-skipped to the doorway with his pigtailed hair dangling from his head. Jack and his chums beat a hasty retreat to the other side of the gutter and made all kinds of frightful faces at the infuriated Mongolian. Terry stepped boldly into the center of the street and perpetrated facial contortions of every description at him.
Wing Sing, the repulsive-looking Chinaman, couldn't control his techy temper any longer, and subsequently heaved his flatiron at his diminutive annoyer, which narrowly missed striking him in his temple. Blaspheming in his native tongue at Terry, Wing Sing clinched his hands, and threatened to brand him some day with a flatiron.
Terry and his comrades chuckled derisively at Wing Sing's threat and disbanded for the night.
CHAPTER IX
The Spy
EARLY one evening around twilight, while Jack and two of his faithful compeers-namely, Terry and Toby-were seated beneath the arch in Washington Square enjoying themselves as usual, a shabbily dressed boy flitted past them like some ghostlike figure and kept peeping cautiously over his shoulders at them. The unnoticed lad laughed quietly to himself and quickened his pace towards the waterfront. His course of direction led him through a narrow and dimly lit street. Finally he halted in front of an ancient and decadent structure, two stories in height, and hastened down the basement steps to reveal his observation notes to his wily and boyish looking chieftain.
CHAPTER X
When Rival Factions Meet There's Bound to be Trouble Brewing in the Atmosphere
THE initial inkling that Jack and his buddies had of the trouble which was fermenting rapidly in the air, was when Dan came bounding across the cobbles like a hunted jack-rabbit with a crowd of toughs in hot pursuit. Attracted by Dan's cries for help, Jack and his two companions dashed ahead and rescued him as he was about to collapse from sheer exhaustion.
"The Micks are after us!" gasped Dan feebly. "Summon the boys together before it's too late!" Jack dutifully drew out his whistle and blew three times upon it. Then he and his pals bravely awaited the ferocious onslaught of their foes, who had placed themselves under the undisputed leadership of no less a personage than Tony, the former bootblack bully. There were thirty Micks, all told, and they seemingly were as old as their iniquitous leader.
As their enemies approached nearer and nearer, Jack and his courageous comrades prepared themselves for the invasion of the hostile Micks. With grim visages and staunch hearts, they were primed to render a good account of themselves.
CHAPTER XI
The Battle of Washington Square
As the greatly feared Micks advanced within twenty yards of them, Jack and his cronies slightly inclined their heads to one side and observed a big band of youngsters fairly flying across the pavements to swap blows with the merciless invaders. The rapid approach of the small but plucky lads precipitated a sudden stampede among the Micks.
Some of them showed their cowardice right at the start of the hand-to-hand mêlée by fleeing away from the scene as fast as they could go, while the rest rushed dauntlessly onward to get what was coming to them.
With a rousing cheer and a sweeping motion of his arm, Jack captained his forces into the thickest of the fray, and the battle of Washington Square was on in real earnest.
CHAPTER XII
Cheese It, the Coppers!
THE conflict waxed fast and furious.
Many a mother's son was the unhappy recipient of a bloody nose and discolored eyes.
The Fifth Avenue buses and other public conveyances had to be brought to a standstill, while the rough-and-tumble contest was operating in full swing. The females of the species atop the Fifth Avenue stagecoaches swooned at the disgraceful spectacle that was being enacted before their condemning eyes without the slightest intervention from members of the stronger sex. They had to be carried to the nearest drugstore, where they were quickly revived with smelling-salts. Pedestrians stopped and looked on in bewilderment as the two inimical organizations strived strenuously for the supremacy of one another.
The superior strength of Jack and his loyal followers began to tell on the bluffing Micks.
Ere long the fearless defenders of Washington Square had the dastardly Micks on a run.
Relentlessly Jack and his followers pursued the panic-stricken bullies until one of those wights who are forever eliminating the joys from boyhood days turned in a riot call to the proximate police precinct. Four squads of patrolmen were hurriedly detailed to the scene, with instructions to capture the ringleaders of the juvenile peace perturbers.
The young lookout who had been stationed on guard near the station-house suddenly darted around the corner to admonish the scrapping youngsters of their peril. When he had come within hailing distance of the grudge-fighting gangs he yelled with might and main:
"Cheese it, the coppers!"
In the twinkling of one's eyelash the hostile hordes of youngsters had dispersed to their ever-welcome abodes; consequently when the policemen arrived at the battle-ground they found nothing except a long line of traffic vehicles and piqued chauffeurs, who were eager to be sent about their business. After sending the buses and other motor conveyances on their way, the ill-humored coppers slouched back to their headquarters. The cops naturally nursed a personal grievance against the desk sergeant for detailing them on a wild-goose chase, but didn't dare to apprise him of the fact.
CHAPTER XIII
The Truth About Cake-Eaters and Flappers
THE magic wand of the goddess of spring had wrought wonders with the inactive branches of the trees and saplings in Washington Square park. The barren boughs had been transformed into tiny fragrant buds, which in turn were rapidly changing into beauteous blossoms that bore mute evidence of the coming of the springtime. Nightfall and its seductive warm weather inspired the modern Romeos and Juliets to confine their spooning to the benches in the park. Here and there sat a devoted young mother crooning and rocking her beloved progeny to sleep in The confirmed bachelors and old maids were also among those present.
And of course the gifted goddess of spring couldn't afford to omit from her animated portrait of subsistence she was deftly delineating in the park, the hell-bound pacesetters of the younger generation infamously spoken of as cake-eaters and flappers. There was a score of them making merry in the park, much to the discomposure of the hard-laboring adults, who had abandoned their stuffy domiciles for the fresh, invigorating air and the eerie tranquillity of nature's open spaces. Most of the cake-eaters and flappers were collegians, and the rest were seniors in high school. The cake-eaters wore their stylish hats, becoming light suits, odd colored vests and heavy brogues. Whenever the cake-eaters were financially embarrassed-and that occurred quite frequently, due to their extravagant habits they would coax their flapperish friends out for a ramble through the park.
The flappers, in marked contrast to the cakeeaters, were such squeamish dressers that it would be a difficult task to describe accurately what kind of clothes they were actually wearing. How these flappers managed to dress so fastidious on the meagre wages their parents earned weekly remained a fathomless mystery to their plainly dressed classmates, but to them it was merely a flapperish secret.
The cake-eaters, having consumed their delectable dainties in the form of cakes that they had brought along to satisfy their hunger, were now smoking their pipes or puffing away at their cigars. Eventually they drained.
the illicit content of their "on the hip flask," when none of their elders were paying any attention to them, while the flappers sat with their shapely legs intersected at the knees busily engaged in gum chewing and perusing transcriptions of the latest sensational novels on the market-or smoking their cigarettes and trying brazenly to ape their male escorts by puffing away at a strong cigar. In less than a quarter of an hour, by their mawkish behavior the cake-eaters and flappers had shamefully driven the fresh-air fiends out of the park. Those who retained their seats in the park proved themselves to be besotted swains, representing every race and creed, lovingly cuddling each other's lips with soul-stirring kisses. These particular Romeos and Juliets of Washington Square park pluckily defied anyone to discommode them, while they were gushing forth their love declarations for one another.
Detached and concealed behind a broad shady tree from the observant peepers of the rest of their cake-eating and flapping consorts were seated Percy Lamont and Pauline West.
Unlike the majority of the cake-eaters, Percy was the divergent and spendthrift son of a retired millionaire banker, who when ashore maintained an elegant subway apartment house on Park Avenue for his son's own use.
Percy's father spent his shore days in his spacious retreat at Greatneck, Long Island, leaving his reckless and prodigal son in full charge of his metropolitan mansion and its retinue of reserved servants. Being a seafaring man, Mr. Percy Lamont, senior, enjoyed life aboard his palatial yacht by cruising in foreign waters with beautiful women and entertainers of all nationalities, and also a jazz orchestra to provide him with enlivenment and happiness that power and prosperity commands from them.
That old adage, "Like father, like son," ran true to life in the Lamont family. Percy, junior, had turned out to be a regular "lady- killer" among the females. He celebrated the prolonged absence of his father by giving immodest dances and so-called "petting parties" in his dad's domicile. He was a debonair and glib-tongued young college student of twenty- two. Flappers were Percy's playthings, more or less. In justice to the flappers, we must state that they couldn't restrain themselves from falling in love with him or his money.
Well, at any rate, Percy certainly had personality, scads of mammon, and social prestige aplenty. Not a few of the foolhardy flappers whom he had paid false courtship to had dreamed some day of becoming the mistress of his house; but their dreams never materialized.
Pauline was his latest girl. She belonged in that graceless grade of girls and women who would take a fling at anything, regardless of the consequences which were slated to follow in its wake and repent at leisure. She was only nineteen years old, but the sophisticated look in her amorous eyes made her appear much older than she really was in age and ex- perience. Pauline wasn't what you would term a homely-looking woman nor a lovely one. But by painting and powdering her face up she had become a treat for sore peepers.
Pauline was resting in Percy's lap with her legs shamelessly crossed at the kneecap, her raven-hued head reclining on his shoulder, and her arms encircling his neck.
"Percy darling, I love you with all my heart and soul," breathed Pauline rapturously, her lips on his.
"And I love you, Pauline dear," murmured Percy blissfully, as he ardently returned her osculation. "By the way, Pauline, what time was it when you arrived home from the petting party held at my house last Saturday night?" asked Percy anxiously.
"About half-past five in the morning," answered Pauline aptly.
"Did your old man have anything to say to you when you came in?" added Percy encouragingly.
"Bet your boots he had something to infer to me," went on Pauline smoothly. "He started to revile me for my tardy hours; but I pulled the sob stuff on him, and he felt ashamed of himself for speaking so harshly to me." "Pauline, I trust you and the rest of the girls had a pleasant time at my petting party." "" "It may have been pleasure to you boys, Percy, but it surely was pain to us girls." "Pauline, just what do you mean by passing such a critique at me?" "Because I meant precisely what I said, Percy. There's no necessity of me going into details about it. Incidentally, I was reading in the newspapers the other day an article relative to cake-eaters and flappers. A distinguished writer was quoted as saying that cake-eaters and flappers abstain themselves from perpetrating vices which would leave a stigma of disgrace on their family genealogies. Wouldn't that jar you, Percy dear?" "Nothing different, Pauline. Besides, if these word painters of pen-and-ink fame were to hobnob with us occasionally for the express purpose of attending our petting parties, cocktail carousals, and other orgies that transpires in my dwelling, I'd wager a good-sized bankroll that these authors would be warbling another tune. Am I divulging the truth, kid —or am I just trying to hoodwink the public?" "Darn tooting you are! Say, Percy, I have something of vital importance to impart to you." "What's troubling you now, Pauline?" "Would you be so kind and considerate to explain to me the reason why you invited those 'yellow dogs' to our petting parties?" "Please, baby darling, do be more explicit and elucidate to me what yellow dogs are you referring to." "Percy sweetheart, I have reference to those obnoxious young Chinks who are always on deck for your petting parties and unconventional dances. Not a single one of them has an ounce of decency in him. They assume for granted, since they wear good clothes and carry plenty of money around with them, that they are irresistible in our eyesight, and that we should be obsequious to their diabolical designs. For example, take Lee Fung. When I obstinately refused to dance the Chicago Shimmy with him he straightway flew into tantrums and demanded to know what had accelerated my refusal. I remonstrated by telling him that it was shameful enough for me to have to dance the Chicago Shimmy with young men of my own race lest more than to have it out with yellow dogs like him. Afterwards he-"" "Pardon me, Pauline, but just why do you persist in calling our Mongolian merrymakers 'yellow dogs'?" "Because, Percy dear, they snap and bark at us flappers, while you cake-eaters have your backs turned on us. There are numerous other reasons that I refrain from mentioning because of the immodesty connected with them." "Pauline dearest, did Lee Fung attempt to molest you after you had termed him a yellow dog?" Here's how he at- Late that evening, "I should say he did! tempted to go about it.
while we were shimmying on the ballroom floor, Lee Fung bribed the butler to slip some kind of a soporific drug into my tumbler of cocktail, which slowly worked its drowsy effect on me. While I was in that somniferous state of mind he inveigled me into entering one of the guest chambers on a fallacious pretext you had taken suddenly ill and pined to see me at once. Unwarily, I permitted him to lead me into his snare. After securely enticing me into the room, he locked the door and advanced menacingly towards me.
He endeavored to embrace me in his arms, but I forcibly repelled his attentions. After a brief breathing spell he hissed venomously thru his gritted teeth these syllables: 'Yuh lettle she-divil. Wot makee pletty white girlee try ter uproot me hair an' scratch me face ter pieces? Me allays tought dat fay goils likee yuh wood act nicee an' sociable ter chinese boy likee me; other white girlees treat me good because me spend lots of money on dem.' "When he had finished raving over me I slapped him smartly across his sallow jaw and informed him of the fact that I wasn't a Broadway Butterfly and didn't intend to be treated as such. Then he lost patience with me and declared he was going to have me anyway. He boldly assayed to take me into his arms and hug me; but I screamed for assistance. Fortunately, one of your faithful manservants heard my scream for help and forced his entrance into the room and rescued me before Lee Fung could administer bodily harm to me.
"After that narrow escapade I decided never again to attend any of your petting parties unless you disbarred those Chinks from befouling the atmosphere of your mansion with their filthy presence. Methinks it's high- time that Uncle Sam deported these undesirables back to China, where they rightfully belong; so that they may intermingle with women of their own nationality and desist harassing hare-brained flappers like myself with their libidinous desires. Whose society would you prefer to have in your home, Percy? Theirs or mine?" Pauline awaited his response with a worried woman's solicitude.
"I'd rather have you, by all means, Pauline.
Your very presence lend color and stimulant to my petting parties. Moreover, if anybody assays to harass you hereafter, dollbaby, they will have to answer to me, and I don't mean maybe." "Atta boy, Percy. Every woman enjoys listening to her man talk that way. It's an infallible sign that he has the makings of a real he-man and not that of a mollycoddle.
And for saying that, I'm going to allow you the privilege of putting your arms around my neck and kissing me goodnight." True to form, Percy condescended to her intrinsic desire by smacking her rouged lips with his and hugging her almost to the verge of suffocation.
It was at this juncture that Beatrice, resplendently dressed in a stunning pink creation, came skipping gaily along with one of Shakespeare's classics, "Romeo and Juliet," clasped firmly in her hand. She glanced casually at Percy and Pauline and continued serenely on her way. She seated herself a short distance away from them and was soon reading the most romantic novel of the ages.
After the osculatory exercises were concluded Percy began to ply Pauline with queries involving Beatrice.
"Say, sweetness, who is the comely looking 'broad' that just went by?" asked Percy smilingly.
"She's known as Beatrice Downing, but she is too young and inexperienced for a cake-eater like you, Percy, my boy," answered Pauline enviously.
"All the better for me," came from Percy triumphantly. "I like them immature and verdant. First thing I'm going to do is to test her to determine whether she's irreproachable or not." "But, Percy dear, you can't do that." "Why not, Pauline?" "Because her sweetheart would resent it." "Who the heck is he?" "His name is Jack Layton. But he is mutually known as "The Prince of Washington Square,' and, believe me, he can claw like a wildcat. You recall Tony, the bootblack bully, who made you a present of a bloody nose for trying to flirt with his fair lady. Well, Jack thrashed him within an inch of his life for maltreating a crippled bootblack. Take a tip from me, old topper, and stay away from her or you're going to regret it." "But can't I browbeat him into believing I'm a tough nut to crack?" "I wouldn't try it if I were you. Jack is apt to call your bluff." "Aw rats! I'm going to risk it anyway.
That's how my old man made his millions in Wall Street, by taking chances, and that's how I'm going to win the most wonderful girl in the world for me. While I'm playing up to her you keep your eyes peeled for Jack, and when he ambles along let him witness your signal of distress and then hold him in check with your charms.” "Alright, Percy dear. Anything to oblige you." With that, Pauline relinquished her seat in his lap, and Percy ambled over to where Beatrice was sitting and enjoying her book of romance.
"Hello, Miss Cuteness," greeted Percy, as he seated himself beside her. "Fine weather we're having now-a-days." Completely taken off her guard by his affable manner, Beatrice lost no time in answering him after she had closed her volume for the present.
"Why, yes.
The climate is perfectly grand," said Beatrice, in her musical voice.
"I do hope it continues like this. Don't you?" Percy edged himself up closer to Beatrice and, slipping an arm around her waist, went on to reply: "You bet I agree with you, Miss Cuteness. By the way, what's the name of the book you were reading?" "Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliet.'" "How would you like for me to play Romeo to your Juliet?" "I-I-I don't really know what to do. You see we're rehearsing a 'Romeo and Juliet' play in school and Jack promised to meet me here at nine o'clock to rehearse the words with me." Percy, ever willing to assist those in trouble, particularly females, pulled out his gold watch and apprised Beatrice of the distressing fact that it was twenty minutes past the appointed hour and also hinted to her that Jack had intentionally forgotten to keep his appointment with her. Still ambiguous as to whether she was treating Jack fairly by being on friendly terms with the strange young man, Beatrice resolved to take a chance with him.
"If you can behave yourself and don't try to get serious with me, I'll allow you to practice Jack's part until he arrives," announced Beatrice decisively.
Then she passed the tome over to Percy, so that he could memorize the passages contained therein. After he had memorized his portion of the book, Percy sank upon his right knee and began to recite to her.
Meanwhile Pauline had all she could do to hold the quick-tempered Jack in reserve as he strolled up to her. It was apparent by her actions towards Jack that Pauline, like the rest of the flappers, adored him to a certain extent. All of her subtle charms having failed to appease his jealous ire, Pauline relied on her last cue-that of applying the acid test to him. She protruded her shapely leg and asked him to adjust her garter for her.
"What do I resemble?" demanded Jack, wrathfully. "One of your cake-eating friends?" Meantime Jack's peepers were riveted on Percy and Beatrice as he sat awaiting Pauline's reply.
"On the level, Jack, I was merely jesting with you," returned Pauline astutely. "Can't you digest a joke sans being offended?" "Most assuredly I can, Pauline, if it's meant with chaste intentions," ruminated Jack reflectively. "But you flappers are so confoundedly fresh and matured beyond your ages that decent and conventional folks are ostracizing your kind from participation in their social functions." "Oh, boy. Please page The Prince of Washington Square! Ever since the day you placed yourself under the tutorship of our esteemed Professor Sharp, of Columbia University, your command of English has been excellent. You converse more like a college graduate than you do like a common news- boy. I know Professor Sharp feels loftily exalted of having the distinction of instructing a bright boy like you. Some day you are going to become a celebrated person and the entire universe will be paying homage to you.
But I'm straying away from what I really wanted to imply to you, Jack. Doubtlessly you are aware of the truth that there are two classes of flappers. One is the respectful class and the other is the disrespectable type. I and my cronies belong to the latter group, as you no doubt know. It won't be long before a respectful flapper will vamp you away from Beatrice, and then you will be only too eager to champion our cause. Mark my words, youngster!" Jack was too busy keeping a watchful peeper on Beatrice and the stranger conversing with her, to pay much attention to what Pauline was telling him. After Percy had finished rehearsing the part Beatrice had assigned to him he learned from her everything he desired to know in the form of her name and address. Following this, he sat knitting his brow and contemplating to himself as to how he was going to find out if Beatrice was a girl above reproach-when unexpectedly Destiny came to his rescue. While attempting to turn over a new leaf in her book, Beatrice accidentally let it fall from her hand, and in stooping to pick it up for her Percy pinched her leg. Beatrice screamed and sprang up on her tiptoes, while her cheeks were aflame with anger.
"You miserable cur!" expostulated Beatrice, her wistful eyes flashing with resentment. "How dare you!" Ere Percy could respond to her indignant question he was conscious of being yanked violently to his feet and receiving a wicked wallop in his right eye which sent its bewildered possessor reeling to the earth. To add to his discomfit and mortification, Jack, in a surly and raucous tone, warned Percy to go while the going was good.
Reluctantly Percy picked himself up and joined Pauline. Together they took refuge in flight, with the other cake-eaters and flappers trailing listlessly after them. Jack and Beatrice now had the park to themselves, or at least they bamboozled themselves into thinking that they had been left in sole ownership of it for awhile.
CHAPTER XIV
Moonlight and Romance
BEATRICE rested herself on the nearest
bench and commanded Jack to sit along-
side of her. Scowlingly, Jack obeyed her order
by reposing himself on the seat next to her;
but he sat with his back towards her angelic
face, ostensibly not at all pleased with the
capers she had been cutting up with that de-
ceptive young cake-eater, Percy Lamont.
Beatrice placed Shakespeare's incompara-
ble masterpiece of literature on the bench
beside her and devoted her spare moments to
her envious beau. Fearfully and timidly,
Beatrice clasped Jack's hand into hers;
thereby impelling him to alter his sitting pos-
ture; and some instants later she glanced wist-
fully into his flashing black peepers. It was
at this point of the wooing proceedings that
the moon came out in its full glory, shedding
a shaft of light upon the adolescent swains. Jack faced Beatrice in sulky silence. Bea-
trice was determined to ascertain from Jack
what had incurred his unwarranted enmity
and antipathy toward her.
"Jack darling," she began suavely, her eyes
brimming with tears, "are you bitterly op-
posed to my meeting or conversing with Percy
Lamont, while you're around?
Won't you
please condone me for my first offense and I'll
pledge you, on my code of honor, that I will
not have anything further to say or do with
him henceforth?"
Evidently Beatrice's words had made no
impression on Jack, because he remained sit-
ting like a marble-hearted sphinx. Jack real-
ized that being, or pretending to be, a stoic
he could hurt her feelings considerately.
Dan Cupid had wounded Beatrice's heart
with his arrow of love, and helplessly she ap-
pealed to Jack to heal her wound.
"Jack dear," implored Beatrice sobbingly,
"what has come over you to-night? Why
don't you answer me? Don't you realize that
your indifference is breaking my heart?
Take me into your strong arms, my beloved,
and tell me with your own mouth that you
love me better than anyone else in the world."
Before Beatrice's tearful orbs and her allur-
ing rosebud lips Jack's apparent marble-
heartness was commencing to vanish as mys-
teriously as one's personal bootlegger when he
has been put in receipt of the awe-inspiring
tidings that prohibition agents are dogging
his tracks. Emotionally Jack placed his arms
about Beatrice's slender waistline, drew her
tenderly to his bosom, and kissed her ruby
lips. The buss set every fiber of Jack's being
athrill with courtship. The blood coursed
cursorily and unrestrainedly through his
body, leaving a never-to-be-forgotten thrill in
its wake. Beatrice underwent similar emo-
tions-perchance more thrilling and exhil-
arating than those experienced by Jack. Love
was having its first awakening in their hitherto
dormant hearts.
Flirting females are noted for their subtlety
in encouraging mere males to make passionate
love to them and thereby instill in them thrills
galore. Naturally Beatrice followed the
usual plan of procedure by her sex. She longed for him to osculate her lips again; be-
cause every osculation meant a thrill for her,
and each sensation presaged a trance of bliss.
"Kiss me once more, Jack dear," pouted
Beatrice, her lily-white arms slowly entwining
his neck and drawing his face to hers. "Kiss
me, sweetheart!"
As Jack tasted the honeyness of her lips and
gazed into the wistfulness of her eyes, he was
certain of the fact that Beatrice was his one
and only dream girl.
"Beatrice dearest," murmured Jack fer-
vidly, kissing and crushing her to his bossom,
"I love you more than life itself. I defy even
Destiny itself to try and take you from me."
Jack's last statement was a rather boastful
one for a love-smitten Lothario to utter audi-
bly. Defying Providence to snatch away from
us our most treasured belongings is the most
regretful thing that puppets of Fate like our-
selves could possibly think of doing. Yet we
all are guilty in our moments of tentative hap-
piness and relaxation of saying things we
shouldn't have stated to anyone. So let us not
upbraid Jack for his rash words; instead, let
us hope he will be able to make good his boast.
Beatrice reclined her golden-haired head
against Jack's shoulder, and together they ele-
vated their gaze skyward at the man in the
moon, who seemed to smile his heavenly bless-
ing on them. They sat in this moonstruck po-
sition for fully ten minutes before they were
almost scared out of their senses by sudden out-
bursts of loud laughter emanating from the
throats of two other park spooners. Jack and
Beatrice turned around in their seats and
per-
ceived a couple of dusky swains resting con-
tentedly on a bench in back of them. Jack and
Beatrice instantly recognized the masculine
figure to be that of Mrs. Downing's depend-
able servant, Rastus Brown, who, from all out-
ward appearances, was going great guns with
Mandy Taylor, his corpulent and brown-eyed
"mama."
For a large number of years Mandy, as a
cook, had slaved faithfully and ambitiously
for the artistic family living next door to Mrs.
Downing's boarding-house and had something
like five thousand dollars reposited in the
local bank to her credit. By the way, dear readers, have you conjured up in your minds
the primary reason why Rastus was sheiking
Mandy? Yes. That's it exactly. He was
merely courting her because of her attractive
bankroll and not for the pulchritude of her
features nor the shapeliness of her limbs-the
two prime requisites which men admire
mostly in women.
Jack and Beatrice, unobserved by the happy
swains, listened absorbedly to what Rastus had
to say to Mandy.
"Honey, ah sho' does lov' yo' wid all mah
heart," Rastus was saying in his most convinc-
ing manner, his arms encircling her neck and
his thick red lips kissing hers. Again the en-
raptured couple kissed the kiss that was heard
round the park.
To Rastus courtship was manifestly that of
a money matter. As long as Mandy stayed in
sole possession of her lifelong earnings Rastus's
passion for her was as strong and as impreg-
nable as the far-famed stone wall defense of
the Mongolian empire. Had Mandy pos-
sessed the slightest intimation that Rastus's
love ardor for her was purely that of gold-
digger she would have given him the gate
long ago in lieu of a better and more reputable
suitor. But being a noble-hearted woman who
adheres to the ancient custom of trusting her
man, Mandy felt quite secure in keeping
company with him. Alas and alack for
womankind! Will they never stop pinning
their fondest hopes and dreams on deceitful
members of the so-called "stronger sex?"
Eventually they will; why not begin now?
As Rastus was about to kiss his sheba once
more, she alertfully spied a wagon loaded with
precious watermelons entering Washington
Square park.
"Rastus sugarplum," commenced Mandy
devotedly, "heah yo' chanc't ter prove yo' lov'
fo' me.
I'se sartinly enjoy eatin' un piece of
melon now."
"But, Mandy honeybunch," demurred Ras-
tus alarmingly, "dem dere watermelons ain't
fit ter be eaten by anyone at de present time.
Indeed they ain't, honey!"
Rastus knew he was deliberately fibbing to
his trustful sheba; but what else was there for
him to do, in view of the alarming truth that
[ 8 ។ he had only twenty-five cents to his name.
Past experience had taught Rastus that the
cheapest of early season melons cost one dollar
apiece. Failing to convince Mandy that the
watermelons were not ripe, Rastus planned to
acquire one through the hook-and-crook
process.
With this execrable scheme obsessing his
nonplussed faculty, Rastus set out on a dog-
trot to overtake the watermelon wagon. After
reaching the tailboard end of the wagon, Ras-
tus leaned over and grabbed himself a good-
sized melon, which he hastily shrouded under
his coat, and started away with it. But he
had scarcely traversed twenty yards before a
little and diffident-looking man of Jewish ex-
traction came running breathlessly up to him
and rightly demanded his pay for the stolen
melon. Seemingly unperturbed by the excited
and incoherent speaker, Rastus, in his lacka-
daisical manner, elicited from the peddler the
total amount of his debt. The small sum of
money involved in the troublesome transaction
-one dollar and fifty cents, to be precise-
had catapulted him into an uncompromising
dilemma.
Assuming a defiant pose, Rastus dared him
to come and collect the cash he owed him.
The impatient and wrathful fruit-vendor took
out his police whistle and threatened to sum-
mon aid from the bluecoats. Rastus capped
the climax by producing his trustworthy razor,
and, as was to be expected of him, the fear-
stricken peddler headed at top speed for his
horse and wagon. After clambering aboard
his wagon the fruit-vendor brought forth his
whip from under the seat and lashed it furi-
ously against the sides of his horse. Ere long
the sadder but wiser young peddler and his
nag and wagon had faded quickly into the
gloaming of the night.
Conveying the watermelon carefully in his
hands, Rastus soon joined Mandy again. He
deposited the melon on the bench beside them.
After extracting his pocket-knife, Rastus sliced
it in halves. One slice for her and the other
for himself to eat.
Not relishing the thought of perceiving
others consume something he would like to partake of himself, Jack proposed a peaceful
promenade through the park to Beatrice, and
she gladly consented to go with him. Anon
thereafter Jack and Beatrice strayed westward
of Washington Square and soon discovered
themselves promenading about in that Latin
quarter of New York City famously known
as Greenwich Village. As they strolled
thru the different streets and byways they
observed with childlike curiosity and rever-
ence the bizarre tea-shops principally patron-
ized by aristocratic people; also the jazz bands
quartered in neighboring cabarets that fur-
nished the music for their high-class enter-
tainers; and, last but not insignificant by any
means, the incipient youthful artists and
sculptors who had modestly isolated them-
selves in the sanctum of their skylight ateliers
away from the caustic criticisms and witticisms
of their more experienced contemporaries.
Their ramble led Jack and Beatrice farther
into the Old Bowery Neighborhood, where
one could encounter vis-a-vis the flotsam of all
nations. Beatrice hesitated a minute or two
and trembled with fright as she watched the MOONLIGHT AND ROMANCE
inclement-looking men and morbid hussies flit-
ting past them like ghostly shadows. After
putting his arms around her waist, like the
dashing chevalier of yore, Jack allayed Bea-
trice's fears by assuring her he would defend
her against the insulting advances of the scums
of the earth. Knowing Jack to be a coura-
geous chap who would keep his word,
Beatrice smiled confidentially at him, and
once more they resumed their journey through
the picturesque Old Bowery Neighborhood.
While sauntering past a charity organiza-
tion, Jack and Beatrice saw for the first time
in many months the famous breadline. They
stopped some distance away from the hoboes
and were eye-witnesses to a near-tragedy. A
mere mite of a man, almost in tatters, was
holding a heated argument with a big tramp
and endeavoring his best to contravene him
from taking his place at the head of the bread-
line. Apparently fatigued and enraged at the
backtalk he was getting from the tattered-look-
ing midget, the giant hobo seized him by the
collar and the seat of his patched pantaloons
and threw him thru space into the filthy gutter, while the remaining tramps laughed
heartily at his unmanly act. Jack likewise
commenced to grin at the bedraggled figure
of the luckless hobo; but when Beatrice had
sharply reproved him for behaving himself
like a plebeian his mirth was short lived.
While homeward bound Jack treated Bea-
trice to several ice cream sodas and a box of
sweets at a popular soda fountain. It was
fifteen minutes past eleven when Jack and
Beatrice finally sought admission into their
dwelling. Mrs. Downing, draped in a plain
nightgown and bearing a lighted candle in one
hand and the key in the other, tiptoed noise-
lessly to the door. She inserted the key into
the lock and swung open the door for them to
enter the house.
After gaining access to their domicile Jack
explained everything in such an earnest man-
ner that Mrs. Downing readily forgave them
for their tardiness in arriving at home.
L 86 ។ CHAPTER XV
A Fifth Avenue Flapper in Distress
"EXTRA! Extra! Extra!" cried Jack in
a shrill, penetrating voice late one Sat-
urday afternoon. "Read all the news about
the great diamond robbery! Get a wiggle on,
gents! Only a few left! Right this way, boys.
What'll you have? The Evening Journal, the
Telegram and Mail, or the Evening World?"
Thus in this wide-awake fashion Jack had
hurriedly rid himself of his stack of news-
papers, and after looking over his day's re-
ceipts he walked up to Toby's stand of busi-
ness to observe with what success he had met
in disposing of his papers. Toby had not
fared so well as Jack had expected him to do.
Jack sensed immediately that there was noth-
ing the matter with Toby's extras, but there
was surely something troubling Toby beyond
a shadow of a doubt. It didn't take Jack
long to discover the cause of his apparent ail- ment. Jack found out that Toby was too
downright shiftless and indolent to vend his
own wares.
Already the purple shades of twilight were
hovering ominously over Washington Square.
Jack good-naturedly acquired half of Toby's
unsold journals and rapidly began to dispose
of them for him. Inspired by Jack's well-
meant fellowship, Toby commenced to sell the
remaining papers to the eager customers.
While the two pals were speedily vending
their dailies, a pompous and prosperous-look-
ing gentleman of seventy or thereabouts, who
wore a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles and
carried a hickory cane, strutted up to them
and demanded a paper, which was promptly
given to him by Toby. The well-to-do custo-
mer began to scan the black headlines of the
journal, and was about to walk away, when
Toby tapped him lightly on his arm and asked
him for the price of the extra. Muttering
something under his breath, the eccentric old
fossil unbuttoned his waistcoat and brought
forth his wallet. He tendered Toby a ten-
dollar bill and lingered for his change. Toby
L 88 ។ was about to return the large note to him un-
changed and thereby permit him to make off
with the paper without paying for it. But
Jack came to Toby's aid and quickly changed
the bill, much to the keen disappointment of
the aged buyer. After brandishing his cane
threateningly at the grinning newsboys the
stingy fogy went his way.
After they had sold their papers, Jack and
Toby were getting ready to bid each other
goodnight, when they heard a piercing scream
for help. Not more than fifty yards away
from them stood Tony, the dethroned boot-
black bully, with his arms around a well-
dressed young girl with bobbed auburn hair,
who was trying vainly to repel his advances.
Jack dashed to the young lady's assistance,
while Toby decided to take his time in reach-
ing the scene of the trouble. Observing Jack
coming to her rescue, Tony released his grip
on her and vamoosed to his own hangout.
The Fifth Avenue flapper cordially thanked
her nice-looking rescuer and desired to know
his name. Jack revealed it to her, and she in
turn told him that she was Vera Vanderlope,
L 89 ។ the one and only child of the millionaire steel
king. When Toby arrived, Jack introduced
him as one of his best pals and Vera willingly
shook hands with him. Vera then narrated
her story to them. She started by telling them
how she had motored down to the park on a
Fifth Avenue bus in search of a thrill and had
found herself stranded in a strange and tough
neighborhood. By accident she had stumbled
across Tony and had paid him handsomely
to show her safely to the bus route. Perceiv-
ing she was a shy stranger in the vicinity, and
a wealthy one at that, he had purposely
wrested her gilt-edged purse out of her hands,
and was attempting to give her a farewell kiss
as a reminder of him, when she unexpectedly
screamed for help. She concluded her hard-
luck tale by implying to him how Tony, on
discerning him approaching to her assistance,
had frightfully dropped her pocketbook at her
dainty toes in his eagerness to eschew Jack's
viselike clutches.
For some unknown motive or other Toby
was still lingering around Jack and Vera.
Toby appeared to have neglected that old say- ing of "two is company and three is a crowd."
Jack and Vera were now standing beneath a
glowing park lamp and chatting confidently to
each other. Thirty moments had elapsed ere
Vera ventured a look at her expensive wrist-
watch and reasoned thoughtfully to herself she
had better shake an ankle or she'd be tardy
for her supper; thereby causing her devoted
parents no end of worriment. After acquiring
Jack's address, Vera promised to send him an
invitation to her birthday party, which would
occur one month later, on July 17. Before
Jack could stammer his appreciation to her,
Vera had melted away in the gloom of the
night.
As Jack and Toby veered themselves in the
direction of their homes, the latter began to
disgrace himself with manners and proprieties
unbecoming a youthful gentleman. When-
ever Jack cheerfully asked him a question or
two Toby stubbornly refused to answer them.
The reason was obvious: Vera's negligence to
invite him to her birthday party had made him
think he was an undesirable and therefore not
fitted to attend her social function. It was only natural after that to expect Toby to take
his spite out on his chum Jack, and so far was
proceeding quite nicely along that line.
That evening, however, Jack didn't lose one
wink of sleep fretting over the unorthodox be-
havior of Toby. On the contrary, he had
never slept so buoyantly and soundly as he did
that night, with Vera the Fifth Avenue flap-
per, who had supplanted Beatrice as the girl
of his dreams.
CHAPTER XVI
The Prince of Washington Square Receives
a Birthday Invitation from the Fifth
Avenue Flapper
I
N the halcyon days of health and sunshine
that followed his first meeting with Vera,
Jack was as gay and as blithesome as a thrush.
He hummed and whistled the latest songs
daily. The other newspaper boys and boot-
blacks didn't know what to make of this sud-
den alacrity and avidity for work on Jack's
part. Terry and Toby and Dan were the
only ones who knew the direct cause of his un-
usual buoyancy of mind and soul. Jack en-
trusted his secret with them because he sin-
cerely believed they wouldn't betray him.
And, of course, Jack exercised every pre-
caution to keep the news away from Beatrice.
As the day of Vera's birthday celebration
drew near, Jack began to worry about the be-
lated invitation letter which was two days be-
L 93 ។ hind its schedule. Three days before the
birthday party was to be held at Vera's home
in her honor, Jack was the happiest youngster
in the vicinage of Washington Square; per-
chance the gayest chap in all the world.
Why? Because he had received the long-
awaited missive containing his invitation card
to Vera's annual blow-out. On a separate
sheet of paper Vera had cautioned Jack to be
rigged out in his full-dress suit at ten o'clock,
as she had instructed her chauffeur to stop at
his house at that hour for him in her Rolls-
Royce.
Fearing that Beatrice might accidentally get
hold of the love letter and peruse its contents,
Jack instantly tore it into shreds, and hid the
invitation card in the innermost pocket of his
overcoat hanging up in the closet. His next
move was to wheedle Rastus up to his bed-
room. Having ensnared Rastus into his cham-
ber, Jack contrived to keep him a prisoner un-
til he had consented to give him some practical
points on the ethics of etiquette, while one is
attempting to crash in on the Four Hundred.
In Rastus Brown, Jack had certainly se- lected the right person to pose as his social
instructor. Rastus had butlered, in his
younger days, as a trusted and competent man-
servant in the households of multi-millionaires
residing on Fifth Avenue, and consequently
was well qualified to instruct Jack properly.
Rastus bared to Jack many worthwhile facts.
Ere he departed for his sleeping quarters that
evening Rastus inferred to Jack that Isadore
Cohen would rent him a full-dress suit at a
reasonable rate.
Jack, happy beyond wordy description, ap-
prised Rastus he was going to have a chat with
Isadore in regard to the high-brow habili-
ments he was anticipated to wear on the gala
occasion.
CHAPTER XVII
The Night Before the Big Affair
T was the evening before the big affair was
IT
to be staged in Vera's palace on Fifth Ave-
nue. After a quick supper Jack retired to his
room to don his Tuxedo. Meanwhile, Bea-
trice, having gulped down her eatables, ex-
cused herself from the table and went out the
basement door to linger for Jack and, if pos-
sible, to ascertain his plans for the night. Bea-
trice didn't have to tarry long for Jack. Not
caring to have Mrs. Downing nor any of her
star boarders observe him sallying forth from
the house, Jack quietly descended the steps and
made his way into the street.
As Jack swaggered past Beatrice, who was
standing on a neighboring stoop with two of
her schoolmates, they commenced to smirk and
titter at him. Jack deemed this very rude and
impolite of Beatrice and her friends. Osten- sibly Jack didn't comprehend girls nor women
thoroughly, for that matter, or else he surely
would have come back to them and banished
the loneliness away from their sentimental
hearts by speaking to them. Jack had not
spoken friendly to Beatrice nor had anything
to do with her since Vera flapped herself into
his life. With the coordination of her willing
associates Beatrice had conspired secretly to at-
tract his attention, but she had made a miser-
able fiasco out of it. When Jack had
disappeared out of her sight, Beatrice, in tears,
bid her congenial chums goodnight and went
directly to her room. Then, in a fit of jealous
rage, Beatrice threw herself on the bed and
sobbed herself to dreamland.
As usual, located his loyal followers in their favorite
haunts underneath the renowned archway.
Dan and Toby, accoutred with boxing para-
phernalia, were utilizing one another as capa-
ble substitutes for punching-bags, while Terry
acted as referee of the bout. Jack's unex-
pected appearance on the scene probably saved the fast-tiring Toby from a technical knockout
inasmuch as Dan had him in a deplorable state
of condition. It was no disgrace for Toby to
receive a bloody nose from Dan, because the
latter on numerous occasions displayed him-
self to be a scrapper of real merit. Jack, of
course, was champ of them all, but had always
encountered stiff opposition from Dan at the
small Settlement House in Washington Square
where the youngsters met to settle their griev-
ances against each other. The bouts were
staged along the same lines as the professional
fistic tournaments. In lieu of money prizes,
cups and medals were donated cheerfully to
the winners of each fight by the opulent
backers of the Washington Square Settlement
House Association. Jack had already gar-
nered three of the coveted trophies and Dan
possessed a like assortment of medals.
After Terry had taken off Dan's gloves they
hurried over to Jack and inspected his Tuxedo
at close range. Meantime, Toby was endeav-
oring to check his nosebleed by tilting his head
backwards and holding a clean kerchief to his nostrils. Dan and Terry praised the full-dress
suit Jack was wearing very highly, and felici-
tated him on his good fortune to be invited as
an honor guest to a Fifth Avenue flapper's
birthday party.
After checking the flow of blood from his
nose, Toby, who fulminated to avenge himself
on Dan and also on Jack because he had
shamefully neglected Beatrice in preference to
Vera, contrived to stir up a grudge conflict be-
tween them. With this obnoxious project in
his scheming head, Toby took Terry aside and
began to allude to him that Jack was afraid to
tackle Dan with the gloves. Terry had always
regarded Jack as his big brother who feared
nobody, and subsequently it was difficult for
him to believe that his compeer was merely a
bluffer in disguise, when it dwindled down to
that degrading sport, as the pessimists would
say, known as fisticuffs. To make Toby's con-
tention sound stronger than ever, Jack implied
to his anxious buddies that he didn't want to
spar with Dan or anyone else, for fear he
might soil his Tuxedo. Dan, whose confidence in his own boxing
skill had begun to wane when Toby first men-
tioned Jack as a suitable opponent for him,
commenced with redoubled courage to get
fresh with his youthful leader by slapping him
stingingly across his rosy cheeks, thereby caus-
ing an excrescence to embellish the profiles of
his face.
This was carrying a joke too far, mused
Jack to himself. After divesting himself of
his "high hat" by leaving it in Terry's hands
for safekeeping, he started to put on the gloves
Toby had given him. The two young boxers
sparred shrewdly for a few moments before
Jack feinted Dan into a delusive opening
and sent him crumbling to the pavement by
sinking a hard right-handed punch into the
pit of his abdomen. Dan commenced to bawl
in a plaintive tone and Jack pityingly allowed
him to pull off his gloves again.
Jack and Terry and Dan looked about
themselves in a vain attempt to detect Toby,
who, after seeing that the shindy was going to
terminate in his young leader's favor, had taken French leave of them.
Somehow or
other Jack and his two steadfast pals couldn't
harbor any malignancy in their untainted souls
for Toby, in spite of the detrimental design he
had foisted upon them.
[IOI ]
CHAPTER XVIII
The Vengeance of Tony, the Erstwhile Boot-
WHI
black Bully
ILE turning a street corner on his
way home that evening, Jack bumped
accidentally into Tony and one of his abject
adherents. Jack anticipated to discern a scowl
on Tony's imperfect features, but instead he
saw nothing more than an agreeable smile.
Completely duped by the docility of his man-
ners and the sincerity of his motives, Jack
permitted Tony to handshake him and apolo-
gize for the misdeeds he had committed in the
past.
As Jack stood chewing the rag with Tony
somebody crept stealthily up behind him on
his hands and knees. Ere Jack surmised what
was going to happen to him, Tony gave him a
violent shove backwards into a large puddle
of water. Aided and abetted by his odious-
looking companion, Tony had carried out his revengeful threat. When Jack had scrambled
to his feet the insidious-looking Tony and his
accessory were nowhere in view.
As Jack dispiritedly examined his soaked
and soiled Tuxedo, tears began to course
down his ruddy jowls. With neatness and dis-
patch Tony had made his boast. He had not
only ruined Jack's full-dress suit, but had like-
wise wrecked his chance of attending Vera's
birthday party, which was scheduled to be
held on the following night. The crown of
Jack's "high hat" had been squashed in until
it bore a striking resemblance to a cartwheel.
Jack was positively broiling with wrath and
indignation under his wing collar. Favoredly
for Jack, there were no bystanders lolling
around to make any wisecracking quips anent
his soggy suit. Jack itched to kick himself in
the shins for permitting Tony to make a veri-
table clodhopper out of him.
However, Jack didn't linger long in that
humid spot. Begrudgingly he took himself to
Isadore Cohen's clothing establishment, whose
doors were still accessible for the commodity
of its tardy patrons. As Jack slouched spirit- lessly into the shop sans his high-brow head-
gear and with his noble features devoid of
their usual smiles and wiles, Isadore sensed
something had gone amiss with him. To dis-
play the comity and the commiseration he had
for Jack's pitiful plight, Isadore patted him
encouragingly on his shoulders and coaxed the
disillusioned lad to articulate his tale of
misery. After Jack had related his yarn, Isa-
dore buoyantly informed him he could come
in early the next day and clerk behind the
counter to earn himself enough money to hire
another Tuxedo.
Isadore was unquestionably the soul of sal-
vation. Why, he would even go to the extent
and trouble of entombing his own parents-if
they had bequeathed him ample funds to de-
fray the expenses of their interment.
CHAPTER XIX
AT
Blighted Hopes
T the appointed hour of the following
night, Vera's Rolls-Royce, with its
liveried chauffeur and footman, rolled up in
front of Mrs. Downing's boarding-house.
The driver impatiently honked his horn thrice
before Jack put in his appearance. The foot-
man then stepped jauntily from the car and
opened the door for Jack to enter it.
From her bedroom window Beatrice had
forlornly watched the Rolls-Royce whisking
away her beau till it became a mere speck in
the distance. Resignedly she sank upon the
bedclothes in her nightdress, and with her
head buried in her hands she began to cry
childlessly. In her muddled mind Beatrice
had molded a mental picture of her castle of
dreams toppling to the earth in pieces. Jack
had opprobriously shown by his nonchalant actions he no longer craved her companion-
ship. Vera was now the pulse of his young
life. After all, she was only the daughter of a
poor and tax-burdened landlady, while Vera
was the petted and pampered child of two epi-
cureans of luxury and leisure. And yet men
have the effrontery and audacity to accuse
women of being possessed with altogether too
much mobility and infidelity.
According to Beatrice, and other fair mem-
bers of the weaker sex, men absolutely had
some gumption to classify them as fickle crea-
tures. No matter what sins and crimes males
may perpetrate, they are generally adjudged
not guilty of them. Females have to pay the
price because they are looked upon as she-
devils, while males in general regard them-
selves as saints. Of course, every woman will
agree with Beatrice that men and boys are
angels when they sleep. Hidden away in the
depth of her love-pierced heart, Beatrice had
cherished an affection for Jack which would
subsist eternally.
Thus reflecting, Beatrice covered herself up with a light bedspread and drowsed off into
the realm of nod.
On his arrival at the Fifth Avenue flapper's
mansion Jack was welcomed at the door by
Vera herself. She piloted him into the parlor
and introduced him to her socially prominent
parents. Vera's associates made so much fuss
and ado over Jack, when she had formally pre-
sented him to them, that their masculine es-
corts commenced to wish he had remained at
home and mingled with those of his own class
and caste.
All at once the jazz orchestra struck up
a lively tune and the refined cake-eaters and
flappers began to select their partners for the
shimmy-whirl. Jack shimmied his first dance
with Vera, and she afterwards proclaimed him
to be a "wow" of a stepper and then some.
Vera's careless comment caused a heartful of
regrets and supplied Jack with an abundance
of reserved dances with the fairest girls in the
house.
Like most wealthy young ladies and
matrons, Vera was an egotistic prig. She de- sired priggishly to have the majority of the
dances and shimmies with Jack. When he
rightfully declined to accede to her selfish
motives, Vera spitefully grew snobbish and as-
sayed to snub him in the presence of her other
guests, who didn't approve of her unjust snob-
bery. It was at this crisis that Vera's watchful
parents took her to one side and made her
apologize to her humble but exultant visitor
for her vain ways. Through a mist of tears
Vera apologized to Jack, while her friends
beamed happily at them.
After the enjoyable and stimulating dances
were over, the respectful cake-eaters and flap-
pers, captained by Vera, romped boisterously
into the reception-room in single file, where
they were quickly served with cake and ice
cream. Vera's birthday party lasted only four
hours—from eleven o'clock in the evening to
three o'clock in the morning.
While bidding Vera au revoir Jack gave her
for birthday gifts a nice and natty box of bon-
bons and a small packet of kerchiefs. Vera
would not release Jack's hands until he had solemnly promised to call at her residence
again soon. Jack was then conveyed and con-
voyed to Mrs. Downing's boarding-house in
Vera's classy Rolls-Royce.
As
CHAPTER XX
Midsummer Infatuation
S the balmy and dreamy days flew by on
the wings of Father Time, Jack's smoul-
dering friendship for Vera suddenly burst into
a flaming passion. Scarcely a week went by
that Jack didn't see Vera or receive corre-
spondence from her. Jack sheiked his sheba
like a real son of the shifting sands in a gallant
try to make her his second subjugation, but she
proved too astute for him.
On more than one occasion he had tried to
taste the rouge on her lips, but she had cun-
ningly made him forego that elastic thrill by
telling him she was averse to kissing anyone
yet awhile. That was the shrewd subterfuge
Vera had employed to extricate herself from
an exceedingly ticklish situation. The pri-
mary motive why Vera didn't want to come in close contact with his lips, was because she was
apprehensive he might by chance smack away
some of the make-up from her mouth and re-
veal it as Nature meant it to be.
[II] CHAPTER XXI
The Abduction of the Fifth Avenue Flapper
ON
N Saturday afternoon, provided there
was a cloudless sky overhead, Vera
usually motored down to Jack's home for the
principal purpose of taking him out for a brac-
ing spin in her Rolls-Royce. A few minutes
after noontide had passed into a stage of for-
getfulness, and while Vera was resting com-
posedly on the cushioned seat of her car, some-
body standing alongside of it in the gutter
tapped lightly at her curtained window with
his fingertips. Attentively the footman sprang
to his feet, believing it to be a silent command
from his little mistress to open the door for
her beau-brummel; but, articulating through
the tube, Vera ordered him to be seated
again.
As the unwary Vera was about to step out
of her Rolls-Royce, two unprincipled and
swarthy-hued men seized her roughly about the waist and swung her into a chugging taxi-
cab which had arrived from nowhere in par-
ticular. Before her stupefied servants were
aware of what was transpiring in the hinder-
most section of the car, the experienced abduc-
tors had spirited Vera away in their purring
cab.
The chauffeur and footman were wholly
ignorant of the kidnapping of their beloved
mistress, until Jack came bounding down the
steps to enter the Rolls-Royce. Ergo when
Jack demanded acrimoniously of them what
ill-fortune had bechanced Vera, they were to-
tally unable to enlighten him as to her where-
abouts. Jack then ordered the dread-driven
servants to convey the shocking news to Vera's
votary parents.
Later, at sundown, Jack and his followers
divided into two separate parties, personally
canvassed the vicinity for vestiges which
might lead them to the deliverance of the
abducted Fifth Avenue flapper, but soon aban-
doned the exhausting quest in utter disconso-
lation and despair.
CHAPTER XXII
Terry on the Trail
T chanced that Terry, who had been labor-
IT
ing overtime at his bootblack trade, was on
his way home, when he observed the kidnap-
pers preparing to carry away Vera in their
taxicab. Suspecting foul work afoot, Terry
hobbled across the street and hoisted himself
up on the spare tire just as the taxi headed
swiftly for that squalid and unsalubrious tene-
ment district near the waterfront. After a
brief and bumpy journey over the cobblestones
the cab stopped in front of Tony Rago's ren-
dezvous. The kidnappers, followed closely by
their reticent chauffeur, who was likewise a
secret and honorary member of the Black
Hand Gang, easily carried the fighting Fifth
Avenue flapper up a flight of stairs and shoved
her forcibly into one of the hallrooms.
Vera, with a despairing heart, heard the key grating in the lock, and with a sigh of utter
depression knew she was a helpless captive in
the poorly illuminated chamber. She glanced
eagerly about her for some visible ways and
means to escape from her dismal place of im-
prisonment, and was almost startled out of her
wits to perceive a white-haired, snaggle-
toothed, and slatternly-attired woman sitting
unperturbedly beside the windowsill. In one
of her wizened hands the hag held a lash ready
for action, while her penetrating gray eyes
maintained a strict vigilance over her fair and
fear-haunted prisoner. Overcome with weak-
ness and qualms of the heart, Vera swooned to
the floor.
In his great hurry to observe where they
were going to imprison Vera, Terry limped
courageously behind her invidious-looking
captors. As Terry was about to follow them
into the narrow corridor he tripped over the
doormat, and while making a bold bid to
maintain his balance he overturned a small
table upholding a blue vase embellished with
elaborate designs. The sudden crash of the broken earthware caused the empty-handed
chauffeur to whirl alertfully around on his
heels and make Terry his unwilling captive.
Terry was made a prisoner in a lamp-lit room
directly across the hall from Vera, with a
ferocious-looking mastiff to keep surveillance
over him. He didn't dare to attempt an
escapade from his chamber and confinement,
for fear the dog would leap at his throat and
lacerate it into shreds.
Precisely at nine o'clock that evening
Tony's bemustached and powerfully propor-
tioned father, Mike, convoked the seven
masked members of the Black Hand Gang
together for their important powwow. The
meeting-room was the only one in the house
equipped with electric lights, getaway devices,
and handmade furniture. The kitchen was in
a topsy-turvy condition. What, with its dirty
dishes, pots and pans lying around in stacks on
the top of the tub and in the sink, and whisky-
less decanters resting on the carpet, the cook-
room bore the earmarks of a seditious scullion
scullery. His
Mike himself was a man of impeccability.
His men could always rely on him keeping the
promises he had made to them. Mike was
also an agnostic and a scoffaw of note. He
caroused heavily and frequently. His bullied
and slovenly garbed followers feared and de-
spised him, but nevertheless executed his
orders sans a whimper of discontent.
word was law among them. Mike had been
the self-appointed leader of his feeble-minded
men for a number of years. While assuming
the leadership of the Black Hand Association
Mike had shown himself to be a mastermind
who knew what he desired and how to ac-
quire it without incriminating himself or his
cohorts.
Some years following the enactment of the
prohibition bills by Congress, while Vera's
big and autocratic-looking dad, Mr. Frank
Vanderlope, was frittering away his moments
of idleness as special deputy police commis-
sioner of the metropolis of New York, he had
conducted in person a raid on Mike's gaming-
den and apprehended him red-handed in the unlawful act of dispensing wood alcohol to his
benighted customer. Mike was sentenced for
ten years to think it over behind the bleak
bars of the hoose-gow for his gross violation of
the arid laws and other similar charges pre-
ferred against him by squealers of his own
band; but before half of his time had expired
he was soon paroled on good behavior.
After laying low for a few months, Mike
joined an international gang of crooks and cut-
throats odiously known as the Black Hand
Gang. With his brilliant brain and superb
strength Mike had little if any opposition to
his cherished ambitions of becoming their
despotical chieftain. Then he avowed to
square accounts with the man who had him
remanded to the "pen" up the river, if it re-
quired the rest of his life to do so. And now,
with the multi-millionaire's one and only off-
spring in his fiendish power, Mike had a
hunch that volatile Dame Fortune was once
more dealing him a good hand.
He had one of his blackguards to hunt for
Mr. Vanderlope's telephone number in the directory, and then he called up the saturnine
parents to inform them they could have their
daughter back safely upon acknowledged
receipt of five hundred thousand dollars in
checks and cash, to be given to a messenger
who was to represent the interests of the Black
Hand Gang. Mike further stated over the
wire that if his courier should be detained
against his volition as a hostage for Vera, his
child would pay the price of his rashness and
contumacy of mind. And that penalty was
inhaling the deathly fumes of burning sulphur,
which the members of the Black Hand organ-
ization meted out to their victims. After ad-
monishing Mr. Vanderlope, over the wire,
that he had merely forty-eight hours in which
to comply with his request, Mike trium-
phantly hung up the receiver and rejoined.
his men.
Vera and Terry were treated like prison
convicts. They were given some hard bread
to chew, some scraps of meat to eat, and a
tumbler of water to drink. Offhand Vera re-
fused to touch the victuals placed on a tin platter resting on her knees but, as usual,
hunger soon vanquished pride.
Meanwhile Vera's discomposed and greatly
vexed father had excitedly phoned to Mike,
imploring him to have one of his trusted ad-
herents drop in to see him at his imposing
mansion and discuss matters pro and con.
When the brazen-hearted emissary, who was
the sole representative of the Black Hand
Gang, visited Mr. Vanderlope he was ushered
by his host into the sumptuous library. Prior
to his admission into the house Mrs. Cora
Vanderlope, who was tall and slim like her
illustrious husband, had fainted in her bed-
room on hearing that her only child and pet
was now in the vile clutches of the Black Hand
Gang. Mr. Vanderlope had to send for the
family physician before she could regain her
consciousness. The learned leech advised his
nerve-racked patient to remain sick abed and
under warm wraps for a week at the utter-
most.
Following a vocal battle lasting an hour or
thereabouts, the disillusioned and dissatisfied courier returned to his irate leader sans the
ransom money in his possession. Both Vera
and Terry were obligated to spend the next
day, which happened to be the Sabbath, in
captivity.
CHAPTER XXIII
$100,000 Reward for the Arrest and Convic-
tion of the Abductors of the Fifth
Avenue Flapper
HE heavy black print in the daily jour-
He heavy black is the
THE
nals on Monday read as follows:
Millionaire's Daughter Held Captive
by Black Hand Gang. Her Ruthless
Captors Openly Defy the Police Depart-
ment and also the Law-abiding Citizens
of New York City to Track Them to
Their Lair. Mr. Vanderlope Offers a
Meed of One Hundred Thousand Dollars
to the Person Who Could Furnish Ade-
quate Information Culminating in the Ar-
rest and Conviction of the Wilful Kid-
napper of His Comely Offspring.
The small fortune that Mr. Vanderlope was
willing to relinquish in exchange for some
worthwhile news appertaining to the predica- ment of his daughter inspired every one living
in the metropolis to conduct a thorough in-
vestigation for the kidnapped girl. But around
eventide the citizens and "bulls" had shown
by their fruitless efforts that the reward wasn't
going to be theirs for the asking.
CHAPTER XXIV
Betwixt Duty and Aversion
HAT evening when Jack strode briskly
TH
into his abode, he immediately began to
search for Beatrice, and found her in the din-
ing-parlor arranging the table for supper.
She wore a white apron over her best apparel.
Jack led her by the hand into the sitting-room.
After they had seated themselves alongside
of one another on a springy sofa, Jack started
to cross-examine Beatrice like an embryonic
district attorney. He asked her whether she
had seen or suspected who Vera's kidnappers
were. Before Beatrice elected to respond to
his query she was utilizing her cranium as a
battleground for the mental conflict she was
waging therein. She pondered to herself that
Vera Vanderlope, who had procured for her-
self an envious reputation as a Fifth Avenue
flapper and poacher of human hearts, had re-
ceived what she justly deserved. Nothing more. Nothing less. Had Vera been among
her own people all this unnecessary trouble
would have been avoided; but, being a flapper
who craves excitement and life in its crudest
form, there was naught else for her to do ex-
cept to alienate Jack's affections away from his
childhood sweetheart.
Beatrice's heavily burdened heart thumped
and pounded unmercifully against her ribs.
Ostensibly her vital organ was endeavoring its
darnest to tell Beatrice to let Vera suffer as
she had suffered in the past. But, after all,
Beatrice like Vera belonged to the same
species and therefore she considered it her sa-
cred duty to disclose to Jack what she had dis-
cerned with her watchful peepers. She re-
counted to him how she had chanced to be
gazing absent-mindedly from her chamber
and watching the abductors make off with
Vera in their speedy cab. At the conclusion
of her graphic story, she gave him an innuendo
that the kidnappers were undoubtedly black-
guards in the sinister employ of Tony's vil-
lainous father, Mike. Jack was so highly elated over the "info"
Beatrice had slipped him, that he sprang to his
feet, bringing her up with him, flung his arms
jubilantly around her neck, and amazed her
with a perfunctory kiss on her lips. Ere Bea-
trice realized what had come over Jack, he had
hastened out of the room and steered himself
into the aromatic kitchen. Jack nudged Ras-
tus in his ribs while he was essaying to yodel
the "West Indies Blues" and carry a tray of
food at the same duration into the dining-
parlor, and blandly whispered something into
his ear.
Obediently Rastus left the food to cool off
atop the cooking-range and hastily followed
Jack up the rear stairway leading to their
rooms. Separately they invaded their sleep-
ing-quarters. Jack unlocked a drawer in his
dresser and stowed away in his pocket a
weapon resembling a revolver, while Rastus
had armed himself with a large equipage of
glistening razors concealed in the lining of his
coat. Pronto! They were all set for their
perilous undertaking. Beatrice, tarrying on the front stoop, with
her golden strands of hair flying in the breeze,
to bid them good luck on their daring venture,
was the only one in the boarding-house to dis-
cern the hasty and unpretentious departure of
the two would-be rescuers. Beatrice felt real
proud of them and didn't try to hide her ad-
miration from anyone.
Of late Percy Lamont had become deeply
enamored of Beatrice Downing. Despite her
childish age Percy had proposed marriage to
Beatrice several times. She had pronely
turned him down, stating as a substantial alibi
she was far too young to marry anybody.
Percy pined to wed Beatrice because she was a
beautiful girl of the clinging-vine type. Now
that the ascetic Mrs. Downing had allowed
Percy to come and court her charming daugh-
ter, he had sagaciously forsaken the society of
his old standbys. Percy knew, after a few
visitations to his prospective bride's home, that
inasmuch as Mrs. Downing was concerned,
her daughter Beatrice was as good as married
to him already. From his unorthodox ways and actions
Percy had yet to learn that offtimes it's the
worthwhile creatures and things we insignifi-
cant mortals covet mostly in life which we
don't get. Why? Because we don't deserve
them. Doubtlessly Percy contemplated that
Destiny, like man-made mandates, was created
for the singular benefit of serving the scions of
affluence and wealth. He was depending en-
tirely on Providence to influence Beatrice to
alter her mind and become his wife. Albeit
Percy was spoken of and exploited among his
girl friends as a despicable rotter, he was a
cohesive adherent of that antique maxim
popular with the so-called wise guys of the
present era, that what a woman or virgin
didn't know about her intended fiance's lurid
past wouldn't do her any harm. While pat
terning himself after most obtuse men, he had
evidently forgotten that it doesn't take the
sagacious women of to-day to find out what
they care to know about their deceitful affini-
ties in jigtime. Recently Beatrice had been
the worried recipient of many anonymous letters transmitted to her by someone who
signed herself a dear friend, warning her of
Percy's profligate traits. For the sake of her
money-mad mother, Beatrice, always chaper-
oned by her aspirant parent, consented to ac-
company Percy in his three-seated and ver-
milion-colored roadster to the latest and
snappiest revues playing on Broadway.
Mrs. Downing and her star boarders had
just finished eating their meals when the door-
bell jingled clamorously. Beatrice, much to
her disgust and resentment, was harshly
bidden by her mother to answer it. She was
saluted cheerfully at the door by Percy, who
looked very chic and stylish in his cake-eater's
outfit. Beatrice showed him into the rest-
room, where he was soon joined by the star
boarders, who entertained him until the mis-
tress of the house and her attractive-looking
daughter were ready to go to the theater with
him.
There was a group of bright-eyed, ruddy-
cheeked, and cheaply clothed youngsters
clustered like vineyard grapes around Percy's
[ x 29 ។ car, admiring it in their puerile ways. Percy
shooed them away as though they were noth-
ing but common fowls, and presently was
piloting his motor chariot in the direction of
the Great White Way.
CHAPTER XXV
Jack and Rastus Arrive in the Nick of Time
HILE Mike and the rest of the Black
WHILE
Hand Gang were enjoying themselves
thoroughly in a game of cards and toping their
homemade brew, Tony sneaked away from
them, and raced up the back stairs till he had
reached the room where Vera was held cap-
tive. After disgorging the ill-favored hag
from the chamber, Tony started to make his
contumelious advances toward Vera.
The frightened Fifth Avenue flapper in-
stantly leaped out of her seat and headed for
the door, which Tony had forgotten to lock in
his anxiousness to be alone with her. Fast
as she was, Tony had proved himself to be
faster still. Although Vera fought like a
young tigress in his arms, Tony managed to
implant his fervish lips upon hers.
As he was about to kiss her again, Tony felt
somebody entwining his fingers around his collar and booting him out into the hallway.
When Tony regained his footing he was rather
astonished to witness that the unexpected med-
dler was none other than his father, Mike.
After planting himself firmly on the threshold
of the door, Mike ordered his exasperated son
Tony to retire to his bedroom. Tony did as
he was requested to do, but vowed to himself
he was going to square accounts with his offi-
cious parent.
Mike then bade the agitating Vera to be
seated, while he strapped her securely to the
chair with a stout piece of hemp. After he
had ignited some cakes of sulphur scattered
around the room in tin tops, Mike closed the
door behind him and hastened down the stair-
way to resume his card playing, which his
pusillanimous son Tony had so rudely inter-
cepted by attempting to make Vera subservient
for his ignoble desire.
Overcome by the penetrating and pungent
fumes, every object in the room appeared to be
blurred and indistinct to Vera. Her head
dropped wearily upon her breast, and she re-
called nothing more until she had been revived some seconds later by the invigorating nightly
currents of air. After her resuscitation, Vera
looked up into the happy features of her dar-
ing young rescuer, who turned out to be Jack
himself, and through sheer rapture she glided
into his outstretched arms and wept with joy.
CHAPTER XXVI
Razors and Fists
EANTIME Rastus had brazenly suc-
ceeded in effecting an entrance into the
meeting-place of the Black Hand Gang.
Caught unawares by Rastus's sudden obtru-
sion into the room, and too bewildered to
whip out their bodkins, the members of the
Black Hand Gang retreated slowly before his
slashing attack. As soon as one razor became
stained with the gore of his notorious foes
Rastus discarded it and brought forth another
to discommode them with. For the first time
in their licentious lives those who had not been
slashed already by the razor-wielding maniac
prayed inwardly and earnestly for something
to turn up that would save their lives for
them.
As if in answer to their earnest prayer Tony,
hearing the commotion and scuffling in the
room below, resolved to investigate what it was all about. After slipping into his clothes
and arming himself with a crowbar, Tony tip-
toed down the rear stairs leading into the base-
ment and, unnoticed by anyone, entered the
conclave chamber, where Rastus was unflinch-
ingly holding the infamous Black Hand Gang
at bay. A trio of them were resting subcon-
sciously on the floor from the ugly gashes Ras-
tus had inflicted upon them with his gleaming
razors.
This was Rastus's initial opportunity to use
his favorite weapons since the dramatic termi-
nation of the World War. During that hectic
struggle for democracy and freedom Rastus
had enrolled as a member of the 369th Infan-
try, which was comprised solely of men re-
cruited from the civilized jungles of "Little
Africa" nestling in the throbbing heart of
New York City. Later on, through their dar-
ing intrepidity and stoic courage while under
heavy fire, they achieved everlasting fame as
"The Hell Fighters." Rastus had served as a
top sergeant, winning many medals and un-
stinted praise from his superior officers, in
recognition of impetuous gallantry while in action. One of his noteworthy feats was that
of capturing, single-handed, a pestiferous nest
of Huns who had been working untold havoc
in the ranks of the Allied Forces with their
deadly machine-guns. And now, with the
dreaded members of the Black Hand Gang
quaking with terror in their hearts, the scene
brought back to Rastus haunting memories of
the stirring days of 1917.
While Rastus was in this reminiscent mood
Tony crept up behind him and rendered him
senseless with a cogent thwack delivered upon
his bald pate by a crowbar. Weening to him-
self that Rastus had not dared to venture forth
alone on his hazardous mission, Mike absented
himself from the voluptuous pleasures he and
his followers had been indulging in, prior to
the coming of their would-be captor, and
wended his way up the backstairs to the room
where Vera was unjustly imprisoned.
Meanwhile Jack, with his arm placed pro-
tectingly about Vera's waist, was busily en-
gaged in narrating to her the engrossing tale of
his narrow escape from death at the mouth of
a large dog, who, by his master's orders, was guarding Terry from unwelcome intruders
seeking to liberate him. Jack went on to re-
late how the watchful mastiff had downed him
by springing fiercely at his throat, and would
have torn him to atoms had it not been for the
quick wittiness of his chum, Terry, who was
clever enough to toss him a hunk of meat
which he greedily devoured. They escaped
from the room and immediately thereafter
they planned to bring about the undoing of the
Black Hand Gang. Terry was to go to the
nearest station-house to solicit succor from the
amicable police, while Jack and Rastus were
to remain in the house and try to deliver Vera
from her dismal place of confinement.
After finishing his narrative Jack took Vera
by the hand and started for the door. Ere they
reached there, however, Mike had thrown it
wide open and was waiting on the threshold
with a leering grin on his visage, to harass
them with his evil, foreboding presence. Mike
roughly seized Vera into his arms, and with
one hefty swing of his mighty right he flattened
Jack almost unconscious on the floor, and va-
cated the room with his precious prisoner in his custody. He flouted her before his men,
who suspended their diversions long enough to
marvel at her flapperish beauty and articulate
some invidious comments regarding her to
each other, while she intuitively shrank away
from them in dismay.
Mike sharply commanded one of his men to
gag and bind the pretty flapper to a chair in
the far end of the chamber. The well-disci-
plined gangster executed his chieftain's com-
mands and returned to the table to continue
his card playing and booze drinking.
CHAPTER XXVII
The Last of the Black Hand Gang
SLUGGISHLY recuperating from the hay-
maker Mike had so deftly and powerfully
slipped over him, Jack got up on his feet again,
and after taking a pistol-shaped weapon from
his pocket he tried the door and was aston-
ished to find it had never been fastened by his
truculent-looking captor.
Just as Mike and his inebriated followers
were about to drink a farewell, toast to one an-
other, they heard an arrestingly acrimonious
voice cry out in its shrillest key:
"Hands up, gentlemen!"
Discerning that Jack had the drop on them,
Mike and his blackguards proceeded in a do-
cile manner to obey his order. Jack lined his
starry-eyed and rum-crazed captives up
against the wall and motioned to Rastus, who
had just awakened from his coma, to relieve
them of their guns. Jack then ordered Rastus to set Vera at liberty once more, and later on
resolved to himself that Mike's revolver would
come in handy inasmuch as the one he toted
was merely a toy thing embossed with tinfoil.
"Well, I'll be hornswoggled!" expostulated
Mike, as he riveted his eyes upon the shattered
remains of the glass gun, which Jack had so
carelessly dashed to the ground after acquir-
ing possession of a real shooting-iron.
Purple with rage and bile, Mike ventured
a threatening step forward in his last endeavor
to unnerve the courageous chap. Jack levelled
his revolver at Mike, with the sangfroid and
aplomb of an experienced trouble-hunter, and
threatened to shoot him if he attempted to
come any further..
"Shoot and be damned!" snapped Mike
viciously, as he prepared to test Jack's mettle.
The Prince of Washington Square steadied
himself for a moment or so, and then, Bang!
barked his pistol. Mike recoiled with a
bloody wrist and nefarious oaths under his
breath.
Simultaneously with the discharge of Jack's
gun there came to his alertful ears the medley sound of scurrying feet and acrid commands
being issued in the hallway of the basement.
A few minutes later Terry burst into the room,
followed closely by Mr. Vanderlope and a
score of heavily armed policemen. While the
overjoyed Mr. Vanderlope clasped his daugh-
ter tenderly in his arms and kissed her tremu-
lous lips, the coppers busied themselves with
handcuffing Jack's prisoners.
Unwatched by anyone except his intoxicated
son Tony, Mike calmly leaned against an
esoteric aperture in the partition and vanished
from view. After they had searched the room
high and low for some mysterious trace of the
missing "master mind," Jack suggested to the
police captain that he coerce Tony to reveal
the hiding-place of his father. In his sottish
stupor Tony had not forgotten how he had
sworn to avenge himself on Mike, and there-
fore he was only too willing to assist in the re-
capture of him. After pushing a camouflaged
button Tony swayed unsteadily to one side, and
in company with the others he observed the
privy panel sliding out of its place in the wall.
With their guns primed for instant use, the captain and his lieutenant found Mike crouch-
ing in a corner like a cougar about to spring
on its hapless prey. Realizing that the game
was up, Mike surrendered himself without the
slightest sign of resistance. As they were head-
ing him for the door Mike noticed that Tony
was smiling broadly at him, and straightway
he suspected him of betraying his secret.
Blinded with fury, Mike wrenched himself
free from his captors and tried to molest Tony,
who aptly reeled behind a burly-looking
copper for protection from his irate dad.
Acting quickly upon Jack's instignation,
two patrolmen roamed vainly through the
house in an effort to apprehend the aged care-
taker, who had effected her getaway while the
police were rounding up the members of the
Black Hand Gang. The infamous band of
international crooks and cutthroats were then
bundled into a patrol wagon and whisked
away to the hoosegow.
When Mr. Vanderlope had gratefully
thanked Jack and his confrères, he asked them
to come to see him the following night to ob-
tain their money awards. Mr. Vanderlope and his daughter Vera bid them good-bye and
made their departure.
Some weeks later the guileful Mike and his
caitiff followers were transferred to Sing Sing
University, where they had been registered for
an indefinite span of years, so that they may
pursue their post-graduates' course in crook-
ology, while the irreparable Tony was re-
manded to the State's Reformatory for incor-
rigibles.
CHAPTER XXVIII
A Grateful Father
HE next day the daily and illustrated
THE
newspapers of the city sacrificed col-
umns of valuable space to the praise and
encomium of Jack and his gallant compeers.
Jack's picture adorned the front page of each
journal, while his cohorts were spoken of very
highly by the cub reporters. A widely read
evening gazette published an editorial eulogiz-
ing Jack to the skies and concluding its article
by stating he would some day become a leader
among them. Now that his portrait had been
broadcasted in the papers throughout this
country and many others, Jack was idolized as
The Prince of Washington Square more than
ever before by his coterie of chums.
It was eventide when Mr. Vanderlope pro-
pitiously received Jack and Terry and Rastus
into his sumptuous library. Unlike most
money-grasping millionaires, the guileless Mr. Vanderlope didn't express his gratitude in
thanks, but in dollars. Mr. Vanderlope drew
his chair up to his escritoire and passed around
a box of cigars. Jack declined to accept any
of the smokes, but Rastus helped himself to a
handful of them.
Mr. Vanderlope then settled himself down
to the joyous task of writing out some checks.
He offered the biggest one to Jack, who in-
sisted that he keep it and invest the money in
some profitable stocks and bonds for him.
Terry accepted his ten-thousand-dollar draft,
and thanked his genial host for his extreme
kindness. Rastus also was to receive a like
sum, but refused to take the check when Mr.
Vanderlope handed it to him. With a non-
plussed mien on his face Mr. Vanderlope de-
manded to know the cause of his refusal.
"Boss, ah perfers to have mah coin in cold.
cash," elucidated Rastus, rubbing his palms
gleefully.
Mr. Vanderlope guffawed heartily, and ex-
tracted a fat roll of greenbacks from his
pocket. Rastus rolled his eyes while Mr.
Vanderlope was counting out the notes. When Mr. Vanderlope gave the money to Rastus the
latter immediately danced a jig that would
have put many professional jiggers to shame.
Meantime Jack had picked up a popular
and high-priced monthly magazine and was
looking attentively at the military academies
advertised on its front page. Mr. Vanderlope
took observance of this and promised to no-
tify Jack of the school he had selected for him
to attend as soon as the fall classes were open
for registration of its new pupils.
CHAPTER XXIX
All Dolled Up and Some Place to Go
N due homage to Rastus's overnight fame
IN
Mrs. Downing permitted him to have the
rest of the week off to himself. After entrust-
ing Mandy with half of his prize money to
keep for him, Rastus resolved to become the
beau-brummel of Harlem's smart set. To
achieve this social aspiration he would have
to purchase for himself some suits, shoes, hats
and other things essential for a sheik's ward-
robe.
On Sunday morning Rastus, clothed in
white from head to feet, with a rather "loud"
necktie, and swinging his jaunty cane, stepped
out into a florist's shop and bought himself a
crimson dahlia. Rastus pinned the flower
somehow or other onto the lapel of his coat and
soon entered the labyrinth of the subwayites.
He commuted up as far as Chambers Street on a local train and then boarded an express
speeding uptown. The train was unusually
congested at that early hour of the morning,
and Rastus jostled his way through the peevish
straphangers intent on reaching the first car,
where the door had been purposely left ajar,
much to the embarrassment of the female com-
muters, who were constantly trying to keep
their skirts from blowing away.
Rastus finally reached the front of the train,
and while attempting to remove his panama
hat he knocked off the straw lid of a rough-
looking man standing beside him. The un-
fortunate gent stooped to retrieve it, but a
sudden gush of wind conveyed it out of his
reach and onto the tracks, where the wheels
of the train ground it to sawdust. Realizing
that he had foolishly left his trusty razor home
under the bed mattress, Rastus, to avoid hav-
ing the luckless stranger muss up his clothes
in the impending rumpus, forced a twenty-
dollar note into his hands, and everything was
okay with them.
Rastus made his exit at One Hundred and Thirty-fifth Street and Lenox Avenue. He
was the cynosure of all eyes as he swaggered
up the fashionable thoroughfare with his
walking-stick. On the southeast corner of One
Hundred and Fortieth Street there stood a
stentorian and restless group of sheiks and
shebas, twanging their ukuleles and practicing
the latest jazz steps, despite the fact it was the
day of the Sabbath. As Rastus strolled dis-
dainfully by them they commenced to warble
in alto voices that unpopular ditty: "Oh!
Where did you get that tie?"
Just then a nattily attired reporter, repre-
senting a prominent negro weekly paper, ac-
companied by a staff photographer, recognized
Rastus and held him up for an interview.
After his photograph had been taken and he
had been interviewed, Rastus haughtily turned
his back on them and went his way. When
Rastus reached 145th Street he changed his
course and headed eastward in the direction of
the viaduct.
Rastus was president-treasurer and sergeant-
at-arms of the well-known "Galloping
Domino Club," which was preparing to hold its annual outing on that day to Seaside, Long
Island. The truck had been hired for the
occasion by Rastus, and everything was held in
readiness pending his arrival. Rastus was
warmly welcomed by his clubmates, and then
ordered the white chauffeur to start the car on
its journey.
At the renowned resort each and every
picnicker in the party enjoyed himself im-
mensely, with the possible exception of Rastus,
who couldn't because he was financing the
bills.
While homeward bound that night, the
truck stalled at the ascent of a steep hill, and
Rastus and his fatigued companions were
obliged to push it all the way to the top.
Oddly enough, Rastus's friends believed he
was primarily responsible for the mishap, in
order to revenge himself on them for their ex-
travagant ways; and after wiping their per-
spiring brows, they instantly sought out Rastus,
with the intention of harming him with their
razors and knives. The cool-headed driver
intervened, and saved Rastus from an untimely
end. Rastus then seated himself alongside of his
protector and relapsed into a state of lassi-
tude. It was certainly the termination of an
imperfect day for Rastus Brown.
CHAPTER XXX
Harlemites
HARLEM, with its commercial marts and
emporiums established specially for the
improvement and amelioration of the Ethio-
pian metropolis, its bustling newspaper plants,
its playhouses and its up-to-date cabarets
where white and black people congregate and
entertain themselves like brothers and sisters,
is to the Ethiopians what Broadway is to the
Caucasians. Saturdays and Sundays found the
social elite of Harlem's smart set arrayed in
all their finery for a quiet promenade along
Seventh Avenue. The men sallied forth in
their smartly tailored suits of the prevalent
vogue, while the women flaunted their be-
jewelled gowns and their fingers aglitter with
sapphire adamants. CHAPTER XXXI
Rastus, the Self-styled Sheik, Struts His Stuff
With His Dusky Designing Sheba
RASTUS'S dishonorable reputation as a
fool and his money spread like a forest
fire through the crowded streets of Harlem,
and it wasn't long before he had taken unto
himself another sheba.
One evening while Rastus was standing on
the corner of 132nd Street and Seventh Ave-
nue, all caked out in his cream-colored suit,
engaged in an interesting conversation with
his new "mama," a small touring car brushed
the edge of the curbing and besmirched his
clothing with mud, until the back of them
could have easily been mistaken for a checker-
board. Rastus was too interested in his sheba's
story to give any attention to his soiled rai-
ment. The dusky designing sheba was apple-
saucing him with the old sob stuff that she had
lost her position as a stenographer in a large real estate office in Harlem, because of a tem-
porary lull in business, and their heartless
landlord had schemed to evict her enfeebled
mother and herself out into the cold and
dreary world.
Rastus's peepers welled with teardrops and
his ponderous frame trembled with pity at her
sad predicament. He open-heartedly gave her
five hundred dollars to keep the wolf of pri-
vation and poverty from howling at their door
for many moons to pass.
Rastus escorted his gold-digging "mama"
into a nearby theatre for a good night's enter-
tainment. When the "Creole Follies Revue"
appeared on the stage Rastus simply went
batty over those high-kicking yaller gals. He
was creating so much disturbance that the
usher was compelled to oust him from the
playhouse. Rastus lingered outside like a
regular stage-door Johnny till the curtain had
fallen on the last act before he ventured behind
the footlights to visit the "sweet innocents" and
invite them out for a swell feed. He kept this
breakneck pace of living with his footlights
friends for a period of two weeks. Later he
was forced, by the lack of ample funds, to keep
in the swim with the "big timers," to return
to his normal self again.
At one of the largest and most comfortable
playhouses in Harlem Rastus had entered his
name in an amateur contest to be held on a
Monday night for the expressive purpose of
uncovering new talent among colored song-
sters. Rastus had faithfully rehearsed for his
début as a novice songbird. Jack tagged along
with him to enjoy the fun. After being intro-
duced from the stage to the hushed and ex-
pectant audience, Rastus bowed courteously
at them and tried to sing, with the accompani-
ment of the piano, one of the most popular
ditties of the day. Some wiseguy in the vast
assemblage immediately stood up and coun-
selled Rastus to drown himself in the nearest
river and thereby spare his neighbors the
trouble of doing it.
When Rastus expectantly stepped up on the
platform to share in the distribution of the
cash prizes he was quickly shelled off again by
a barrage of putrid tomatoes which were being
heaved discontentedly at him by a bunch of mischievous and unruly boys and young men.
For their ungentlemanly conduct the rowdies
were bounced out into the street by a special
officer. Rastus attempted to throw a scare
into the manager of the theatre by threatening
to sue him for everything he was worth, but
the acting owner came back strong at him by
saying he was fortunate to escape in one piece
after his horrid performance as a songster.
CHAPTER XXXII
Kid Rastus Versus Kid Put-'Em-to-Sleep
To procure some additional pocket change,
now that he had "gone to the dogs"
again, Rastus was forced to hock his newly
purchased clothes.
Inasmuch as there had always existed a
fatherly bond of friendship among them,
Rastus and Jack traveled uptown in the sub-
way train to a well patronized sporting club in
Harlem. Enroute to the club Rastus pounced
upon a horseshoe lying in the gutter and hid
it in his pocket. When they arrived at the
house it was agog with excitement. It all oc-
curred when one of the boxing fans persisted
in puffing away at his smoke-screen stogy and
consequently imperiling the lives of the pre-
limary mitt-slingers. After some delibera-
tion on the promoter's part the resentful box-
ing zealot was given the gate, and quietude once more reigned in the clubhouse, while the
prelimaries were being run off.
Fifteen minutes later the main bout came on.
The two principals in the coming mêlée were
namely "Sledge-Hammer Sam" and the un-
beatable Mickey Bolan, who campaigned un-
der the ring misnomer of "Kid Put-'Em-to-
Sleep." The latter had a skin you hate to
touch, and this, coupled with a bulldog dispo-
sition, made him one of the most feared battlers
in the squared circle. After nervously giving
his highly touted opponent the once more,
"Sledge-Hammer Sam" got cold feet and
scrambled hastily out of the roped arena, leav-
ing the promoter in a lurch. The wide-awake
manager of "Kid Put-'Em-to-Sleep" then
stepped into the breach and made a business
proposition to the grumbling fans. He offered
three hundred dollars, spot cash, to the man
who could last more than a round with his
protégé.
Rastus eagerly accepted his terms and hur-
ried to the dressing-room to undress for the
fray. Jack was to act as his chief second.
CHAPTER XXXIII
Horseshoe Luck
WHEN Rastus climbed through the
ropes he perceived for the first time
that his foeman was none other than the man
he had almost come to blows with in the sub-
way train some days ago. As was usually his
custom, "Kid Put-'Em-to-Sleep" glared fero-
ciously at Rastus, who wanted at the last mo-
ment to default the match, but was buoyantly
informed by the promoter that it was too late
to change his mind. The "Gallery Gods"
were clamoring for action and the promoter
was bent on giving it to them.
Clang! went the gong. To paraphrase the
vernacular of the squared circle, both men
went at it "hammer and tongs." Since the
fight began Rastus had only kissed the can-
vas ten times, but in each instance he had
stubbornly refused to stay put. The tempta-
tion of earning the three hundred dollars was too great and beneficial to allow his adversary
to score a technical knockout over him. The
tenth time that he dusted off the canvas with
his face Rastus dreamed an angel was stand-
ing over him and playing on a large harp the
sweetest music he had ever listened to.
Rastus had abandoned all hopes of winning
the money, when the bell clanged and saved
it for him. Just before the start of the second
round Rastus concealed the horseshoe in his
glove and became a gamecock. Nearing the
end of that fistic inning Rastus managed to
clip "Kid Put-'Em-to-Sleep" on the chin with
the glove concealing the horseshoe and
knocked him cold. CHAPTER XXXIV
She Broke His Heart and He Broke Her Jaw
KNOWING that he would be in grave
danger if the boxing zealots discovered
the prank he had worked on his adversary,
Rastus received his money and hastened into
the dressing-room, with Jack close on his heels.
While hurrying along Seventh Avenue Ras-
tus came suddenly upon his sheba, who had
pledged herself to become his wife, in the
joyful company of a handsome "ladykiller."
Rastus spoke to her, but she refused to recog-
nize him. He was then hotter than a picnicker
who had lucklessly stumbled across a hornet's
nest, and he quickened his steps to catch her.
Then he caressed her cheek with his bruised
fist and she fainted in her escort's arms, who
excitedly stopped a cab and had her taken to
the hospital, where the doctors apprised him
after a careful examination her jaw had been
dislocated. Calling to Jack to trail along with him,
Rastus halted a Fifth Avenue stagecoach
bound for Washington Square and went
aboard it.
CHAPTER XXXV
Come Seven, Come Eleven
THE shady members of the "Galloping
Domino Club," with their headquarters
situated underneath the viaduct, were busy
living up to their reputations when Rastus
made his appearance among them. Rastus,
financially speaking, was as flat as a pancake,
but he didn't intend for the boys to know it.
By shaking the latchkeys in his pocket Rastus
deceived them into believing he had money to
burn. Rastus's uncanny luck with the "gal-
loping dominoes" commenced to make his
associates suspicious of the dice he was throw-
ing. After a quick inspection they found them
to be loaded.
As they glanced menacingly upward to tell
Rastus what they thought of him, the crap-
shooters observed him dashing frantically to-
wards Lenox Avenue.
CHAPTER XXXVI
Rastus Runs Wild
THE indignant members of the "Galloping
Domino Club" decided to give chase
after him. As Rastus dashed wildly down the
avenue it appeared to him as if the entire
citizenry of the negro city was pursuing him
and flourishing their razors above their heads.
The chase was getting too warm for Rastus;
so much, in fact, that he was obligated to di-
vest himself of his black "bowler" and coat
and leave them on the wayside. His flying feet
left a cloud of dust behind them, which indi-
cated Rastus was traveling like a twentieth
century limited.
"Hey, mister!" shouted a mischievous and
ragged-looking street urchin. "You losin' yoh
shirt!" Rastus was too busy widening the gap
between him and his blood-thirsty pursuers to
notice the youngster.
An empty taxicab rolled alongside of him. RASTUS RUNS WILD
and he thankfully boarded it, instructing the
chauffeur to drive like sixties to Washington
Square. When the taxi neared his lodging-
house Rastus told the driver to turn his car
around and journey back to whence they had
come. While the unsuspecting chauffeur
wheeled his machine about and started uptown
again, Rastus successfully engineered his get-
away without paying the customary fee for his
long ride to safety.
CHAPTER XXXVII
Terry Loses His Best Friend
ONE sunny day, around lunch hour, while
her dutiful son Terry was bootblacking
in Washington Square, Mrs. Lucy Lewis, still
confined to her cot with an incurable illness
and disability of her limbs, was visibly dis-
turbed by the rapid succession of raps on the
door.
Believing the knocker to be her next-door
neighbor who was returning to recover the
shawl she had inadvertently left lying on her
bed, Mrs. Lewis allowed the door to be opened
by a shabbily dressed six-foot specimen of
virile manhood gone to waste. Mrs. Lewis
almost fainted with fright as she gazed into
the murderous-looking eyes of the intruder.
The burglar had just effected a spectacular es-
cape from prison and had entered the chamber
with the intention of robbing Mrs. Lewis of
the money Terry had earned as his share of
the spoils for aiding in the capture of the no-
torious Black Hand Gang.
The thief clutched Mrs. Lewis by the
strands of her hair, and with the other hand
throttling off her wind supply, he impiously
schemed to choke her to death unless she came
across with the ten thousand dollars. Mrs.
Lewis had the bills hidden under her pillow,
but would rather sacrifice her life than to give
him the desired information. The robber was
about to carry out his dastardly scheme when
Terry unexpectedly came into the room.
Taking in the situation at a single glance,
Terry grabbed himself a bread-knife from the
cupboard and valiantly tried to make things
decidedly unpleasant for their uninvited visi-
tor. By some miraculous effort the desperate
thug succeeded in wresting the weapon away
from Terry, and left him writhing in agony
on the floor.
Just as the burglar started to harass Mrs.
Lewis about the hidden money for the last
time, the door banged open and a detective
strode briskly into the chamber of sorrow and
hate. Unaware that he had been shadowed all the way from the calaboose, the culprit was
naturally too dumbfounded to speak. As the
officer of the law threatened him with his
cocked revolver, the thug shambled meekly
forward, ostensibly to give himself up to his
pursuer. What he really did, however, was to
secure a stranglehold on his would-be captor,
and together they grappled fiercely with one
another for the upper hand. In their fierce
struggle they upsetted the table and the oil-
lamp. Some minutes later the whole room
was enveloped in a vale of suffocating vapors
and scorching flames. The deathly combat-
ants wrestled themselves to the open window
and plunged five stories to their doom on the
pavement below.
Terry painfully dragged up to the casement
sash and yelled for help. A motley assort-
ment of noonday workers had crowded them-
selves around the burning building. Someone
turned in an alarm and the gutters were soon
cluttered with fire apparatus. Three firemen
had dauntlessly assayed to deliver Terry and
his invalid mother from their fiery fate, but
the blazing walls of smoke and fire forced them to abandon their heroic plan. As they
unconsciously toppled from their lofty perches
their watchful comrades caught them in the
lifenet.
Jack, who chanced to be passing by, saw in-
stantly that it was the humble home of his pal
Terry ablaze. Before anybody could hamper
him Jack had scaled the ladder with the
agility and nimbleness of foot of a jungle ape
climbing a tree. While Jack entered the
smoking chamber, the intensified and thrilled
spectators waved their hats aloft and vocifer-
ously acclaimed his heroism. A plucky fire-
man followed Jack to the uppermost rung of
the ladder and waited for Jack to pass the un-
conscious form of Mrs. Lewis into his arms.
Jack carried his chum Terry out of the danger
zone. When his rescuing work was over the
admirable women hugged and kissed him,
while the men patted him affectionately on his
back.
Strange though it may seem, Jack had es-
caped from the fiery chamber practically un-
marked save for a few smarting burns and
scratches on his face and arms which had been exposed to the merciless flames. As usual the
reporters and photographers were making life
for Jack just one interview after another.
Mrs. Lewis and her son Terry were rushed
immediately to the hospital for treatment of
their wounds. After Mrs. Lewis had been
segregated from the society of other patients
in a quiet ward off to herself, the hospital staff
of surgeons inspected her burns and were not
taken aback by discovering she had been
severely scorched in the fire. They conceded
her twenty-four hours to live.
After his injuries had been attended by the
doctors, Terry procured permission to visit his
moribund mother. Terry knelt devotedly at
her bedside. Mrs. Lewis feebly raised herself
upon a pillow and strained her sobbing son to
her breast, and then murmured in his ears:
"Terry dear, Mother is going away to a Para-
dise where there are no more headaches and
heart ailments. Ere she departs on her trip
she wants her little man to be considerate and
obedient to his elders. Will you promise to do
this for Mother?"
"O! Mother darling! Please don't talk like that!" cried Terry, as the tears streamed down
his cheeks and he supported the waning spirit
of his parent, who emotionally kissed him
again and again. "I need you more than any-
one else does. Mother, I'll promise to be a
good boy always if you won't leave me alone
in this world. Please don't, Mother!"
"Terry, my baby, let me hold you once more
to my bosom and kiss you good-bye," sobbed
Mrs. Lewis chokingly. "Oh, Terry, my child!
The light's growing dim and I hear strange
voices bidding me not to be afraid of the ap-
proaching darkness."
Dreadful that his mother was repining of
the flickering glow in the room, Terry flashed
on the electricity in full blast and, returning
quickly to her bedside, he osculated her fever-
blistered lips; but they were no longer warm
with the radiance of life. The voice of the
Deity had spoken through her sainted soul,
and her heart, answering the hasty summons of
its Creator, had aptly ceased its tireless toil to
rest in eternity. Kneeling beside the cot of
his deceased parent, Terry lamented so bitterly that the physician and nurse in attendance led
him sadly from the ward.
The death of his beloved mother inclined
Terry to become temporarily insane, with
lugubriousness encumbering his vital organs.
Terry limped pityingly out into the streets
again and subconsciously wandered into Wing
Sing's laundry.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
The Irony of Fate
WING SING clapped his hands with
glee, while his young and willing as-
sistant divested Terry of his shirt and bared
his back to a red-hot flatiron. After Wing Sing
had burned Terry to his fiendish satisfaction
he permitted him to slip on his jacket again.
As Terry was hobbling heart-brokenly out of
the torture shop Wing Sing said these words
to him:
"Naughty boy forget. Wing Sing likee ele-
phant. Him no forget.'
""
While crossing the street Terry stepped di-
rectly in the path of a speeding taxicab and was
fatally injured. Following the mishap the
frightened chauffeur attempted to escape by
stepping on the gas, but some of the fleet-footed
witnesses of the accident hopped aboard his
cab and menaced him with mob violence if he
failed to comply with their request, while the women screamed and swooned to the side-
walks. The policeman happened to be on his
beat when the tragedy was enacted before his
eyes. His unexpected appearance on the scene
prevented the angry mob from lynching their
prisoner at the nearest tree.
In his dying breath Terry requested one of
his playmates to go and get Jack without
further delay. When Jack arrived at the place
Terry wanted him to accept the ten thousand
dollars he had salvaged from the ravages of
the fire monster and also to kiss him farewell.
At first Jack loathed to think of accepting the
money, but ever anxious to please his spunky
little pal, he accepted it and yielded to his last
demand of kissing him good-bye.
Father Patrick McClellan, who happened
to be standing in the crowd, was prevailed
upon to deliver the obsequies over the lifeless
body of Terry. After the rites had been ad-
ministered to the earthly remains of Terry, his
body was removed to the undertaker's estab-
lishment to await the day of entombment.
That same fateful evening, while Wing Sing
and his apprentice were standing in the door- way of his laundry, conversing cheerfully in
their own tongue with each other, they were
instantly killed by a bolt of zigzag lightning
in one of the most damaging and electrical
storms Washington Square had experienced in
a decade.
CHAPTER XXXIX
Gladsome Tidings
AUTUMN had been ushered in with
frosty weather. The trees in Washing-
ton Square park had shorn themselves of their
leafy embellishments, while the dove-tailed
swallows had hibernated southward to warmer
climes.
Jack had almost despaired of ever hearing
from his wealthy benefactor, Mr. Frank Van-
derlope, again when bright and early one
morning the mailman handed him a letter.
The Prince of Washington Square opened it
eagerly and likewise perused its contents.
Mr. Vanderlope had indited in the missive
that he was going to defray his tuition fees for
a four-year course of studies and in addition he
had already shipped a trunkful of cake-eater's
clothes to the school he had chosen for him to
attend as militant student. A few days later, before the opening of the fall classes, Professor,
John Sharp, the noted astronomer of Colum-
bia University, affixed his signature to a cer-
tificate which would enable Jack to gain ad-
mittance to any schoolhouse in the country.
CHAPTER XL
All Aboard for Stansville Academy
PAULINE WEST, that ultra-modern
finale hopper, gorgeously gowned in a
shimmering crêpe-de-chime dress set off with
a gaudy red hat, was at the depot beforehand
in the company of her latest mollycoddle
"catch" of the season, one Mr. Charles Bates.
All of Jack's boyhood playmates and other
well-wishers were on hand to witness his de-
parture.
As Jack shook hands with his chums, and
particularly with that obese personage known
as Toby, he noticed him to be masticating as
usual a wad of gum in his mouth. Rastus, ac-
companied by Mandy, presented him with a
razor as a remembrance of him, while the
three old maids gave him a box of sandwiches
to be eaten on the way to his school.
Jack clasped Beatrice's palms in a firm handshake, but didn't kiss her, as she had
anticipated him to do. However, he didn't
hesitate to osculate Vera good-bye, while she
murmured to him that her parents were going
to send her to a nearby seminary for young
ladies of refinement and culture; consequently
they would be destined to see one another fre-
quently. Pauline, escorted gallantly by her
votive fiancé, had made a special trip to Penn
depot to watch her prognostication come true.
By wearing one of his cake-eater's suits for the
first time Jack had ultimately conformed to the
dictums of flapperdom.
Standing on the tiny platform of the train
and swinging his glimmering lantern in the
distance, the portly conductor bellowed at the
top of his lusty lungs: "All aboard for Stans-
ville Academy!"
Jack hastily scrambled aboard the nearest
car, and poking his head out of the window
he signaled with his kerchief adieu to his
saddened buddies and friends alike.
Amid the blatant sputtering of its huge
engine, the train rumbled noisily out of the station, on its long jaunt upstate to Stansville
Academy, where new laurels and unprece-
dented glory awaited the unheralded arrival
of the quondam Prince of Washington
Square.
THE END