The Statesmen Snowbound Part 10

"Now, Quong Lee, while wholly in Ah Moy's power, and quite well aware of it, exacted from all of his countrymen a certain amount of deference, and was loath that his visitor should prove an exception to this gratifying rule. Ah Moy knew this, but the little farce was becoming very irksome to him; it took up too much of his always valuable time, and he intended to forego it in future. Quong Lee, thought he, was a tiresome old goat who badly needed his whiskers trimmed and his horns sawed off; and he, Ah Moy, was the man for the job.

"'I am indeed fortunate,' said Quong Lee, ignoring Ah Moy's concluding remark, 'tremendously lucky, in fact, for I think I have in my laboratory just what you desire. Yes, I am sure of it. I will get it without further delay.' He took down a lighted lantern from the wall, and lifting a trap door at the end of the room, plunged into the darkness. From the opening nasty, suffocating smells arose, and Ah Moy was driven out to the shop, where he impatiently awaited his learned friend. That worthy soon reappeared, and paying no attention whatever to the odors, beckoned Ah Moy into the room. Ah Moy approached gingerly.

"'My beloved child,' said Quong Lee, exhibiting the regulation tiny phial of romance containing a few drops of a white liquid, 'here is a poison ten-fold more subtle and deadly than that ejected from the fangs of the cruel serpent of the plain. The merest scratch from a weapon dipped in it will effect instant death. The victim curls up as a tender leaf in the midday sun. Yet it may be taken into the stomach with impunity. Strange, is it not? The minute quant.i.ty that you see here is all that I possess, and I shall feel honored if you will accept it.

But,' he added, clutching Ah Moy by the wrist, 'should trouble come, remember that I--Quong Lee----'

"'Trust me for that, venerable Uncle of the Moon; your name shall not be breathed in the matter, whatever happens. Ah Moy is not the man to bring misfortune upon the lifelong friend of his father,' and the fiendish chuckle which accompanied this remark filled the merchant-chemist with alarm.

"'A million thanks, O Ill.u.s.trious,' continued Ah Moy, pocketing the phial. 'I shall never forget your generosity. In good time I shall repay. Ah Moy will not prove ungrateful. Pardon this brief visit, O revered wearer of the crimson blouse. We meet again to-night. Bathed in the glow of thy approving smile, I leave thee. We meet again to-night, to-night. For the present, farewell. And I say, old 'un, you were dead wrong about that last game. You get a little dippy toward morning, don't you? Most old folks do. Ta, ta.' He glided out, slamming the door behind him.

"Quong Lee followed his guest to the street, and watched his retreating figure until lost to sight.

"'Curse him! Curse him!' hissed the old man vindictively. 'May the G.o.ds destroy him! And Quong Lee will aid them! Give me but the chance; oh, give me but the chance!' And he crossed his fingers.

"The subject of this cheerful soliloquy returned without delay to Sam Yen's, who welcomed him with a wan smile, and after explaining some minor details of the work, crept off to his cot. Ah Moy immediately began his self-imposed task, and worked with a will, crooning the while a quaint Celestial air. It was ironing day at Sam Yen's, and the new hand did not object particularly to that part of the process. By a quarter after four he had completed the job, and surveyed with much satisfaction the neat bundles, duly ranged on the shelves.

"Dennis Coogan arrived at dusk, and throwing down his ticket and some small change on the counter, walked off with his parcel, mumbling something uncomplimentary about the dirty haythin' who kept honest folks waitin' for their, clothin'. Later in the evening Sam Yen appeared, much refreshed, and relieved his kind a.s.sistant. Ah Moy then left, cutting short the thanks of his countryman.

"Honesty is the best policy, and it is to be regretted that this astute maxim had not been more thoroughly kneaded into the moral make-up of Mr.

Dennis Coogan. Arriving at the house in K Street, Coogan, sneaking through a side entrance and across the yard at the rear, took his master's clothing up to his own little room over the stables, where he carefully selected such articles as seemed to strike his fancy. It was the night of the coachmen's ball, and Dennis did not propose to be eclipsed at that event by any Jehu who ever handled the ribbons. So there in readiness lay the hired dress-suit, the Major's gleaming linen, and the other necessaries of evening attire. Coogan leisurely donned the unaccustomed plumage, paying as much attention to his toilet as a debutante when arraying herself for her first cotillion. After struggling into a remarkably obstinate shirt he selected the highest collar he could find, put it on, and admiringly surveyed the general effect in a cracked mirror, turning his head this way and that as he did so. Suddenly, with a gasping cry, he lurched forward, and fell heavily to the floor.

"Great was the horror and distress in the Cragiemuir household the next morning when the shockingly discolored body of the ill-fated Coogan was found. Major Cragiemuir, who was attached to the man, was sorely grieved by his death; and as there were no relatives to claim the body had the poor fellow buried from the K Street house, which was closed until after the funeral. The family physician and his confreres who examined the corpse were puzzled for some time as to the cause of Coogan's death.

Cases of this sort, they solemnly declared, while not unknown to the profession, were yet extremely rare; and the long scientific name which was inscribed on the register at the health office as the disease that carried off Dennis Coogan had certainly never been seen there before.

The slight scratch under the chin made by one of the sharp points of the collar was quite unnoticed in the rigid inspection to which the body was subjected.

"On the evening following the untimely death of Dennis Coogan, impelled by a curiosity which he could not resist, Ah Moy sought out the fashionable neighborhood where the Cragiemuirs resided, and found, as he had scarcely dared hope, the mansion closed and the badge of mourning on the door. He saw a dim light burning in the front parlor, and in his excited fancy could see the still form of the hated Major reposing in the satin-lined casket beneath the flickering gas jets. The Chinaman laughed aloud, and then a look of supreme terror came into his face, for he thought he saw a menacing figure leave the house, and with clenched fists start over to him.

"Ah Moy, shrieking, turned and fled.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Ah Moy, shrieking, turned and fled!"]

"He finally took refuge from his imaginary pursuer at Wo Hong's. Here he drank repeatedly a fiery liquor which the proprietor, serenely untroubled by the revenue laws, dispensed to his pals for a trifle. When Ah Moy staggered into his den several hours later, Quong Lee, who had arrived on the scene, noted with much satisfaction the ghastly appearance of his friend.

"'If he keeps this up for any length of time,' thought the learned man, 'I shall be spared the performance of a very unpleasant act. Murder is not in my line--now--anyway. It is trying work for an old man like me--and the police forever at one's heels!'

"Leaving his a.s.sociates in charge of the tables, Ah Moy wearily sought the adjoining room, a filthy, ill-lighted apartment, with rows of bunks along its sides. Opening a cupboard he drew forth a pipe and a small jar of opium. His stained fingers trembled violently as he rolled a much larger pill than usual and placed it in the bowl of his pipe. He had consumed a frightful quant.i.ty of the stuff in the past few days, and his nerves were in just the condition that required a larger amount than ever to quiet them.

"He stretched himself at full length in the nearest bunk and proceeded to lull the awful fantasies which threatened his reason. With a moan he buried his face in his pillow; for at the end of the room he saw a grim phantom whom, he felt sure, the doubly accursed Quong Lee had maliciously admitted. The old man should pay dearly for this on the morrow! Ah Moy felt his fingers tightening convulsively around the throat of the dying Quong Lee; he could hear the croaking in his victim's wind-pipe, and the gruesome death-rattle! The sounds were all well known to the Chinaman, and recalled a chain of lurid experiences.

"'I should have done it before,' he muttered, as in his fancy he kicked the body aside.

"He grew calmer. There was a bright gleam of hope in the thought that with the death of Major Cragiemuir his wooing would be far less difficult. As to the girl returning his love--bah! Women were not consulted upon such matters--in China. He smiled, for he felt that his triumph was a.s.sured.

"Radiant visions came to him. He was floating in s.p.a.ce, wafted by perfumed breezes. Around him were lovely faces dimly outlined in circles of roseate clouds. Each face was Janet Cragiemuir's, and all smiled most bewitchingly at him. Showers of white and yellow blossoms fell at intervals, and the orchestra from the Imperial theatre at Pekin boomed lazily in the distance.

"Happy, happy Ah Moy!

"But the Chinaman, though a hardened smoker, had badly miscalculated matters, for when Quong Lee came in at daybreak to awaken him the 'Beautiful One' had been dead many hours!"

"Now, Mr. Denmead," said Colonel Manysnifters, turning to another representative of the press, "it's your turn. Let us have it good and strong. I have read your East Side Sketches, and like 'em immensely.

Can't you give us a touch of New York in yours?"

"I'll try," said Denmead modestly, "though it isn't exactly a story. It was just a pa.s.sing incident, but it was something that I will not soon forget. An affair of that kind is apt to make more or less of an impression on a fellow. Maybe you will agree with me."

XI

WHAT HAPPENED TO DENMEAD

"Several years ago I found myself in New York; penniless, weary, and heartsick. I wandered one morning into a tiny park, mouldering in the shadow of the huge skysc.r.a.pers with which Manhattan is everywhere defaced. I sank upon a bench, pulled a soiled newspaper from my pocket, and scanned for the fiftieth time the 'Help Wanted' columns. Work I wanted of any kind, and work of any kind had eluded my tireless search for days--ever since my arrival in New York. The benches about me were filled with bleary, unshaven men; some asleep, others trying hard to keep awake; each clutching a paper which presently it seemed they might devour, goat-like, in sheer hunger. The stamp of cruel want convulsed each hopeless face, and crowsfeet lines of despair lay as a delta beneath each fishy eye. About us in all directions towered huge monuments of apoplectic wealth--teeming hives, draining the honey from each bee, tearing from thousands their best years, their finest endeavors, their very hearts' blood--all to swell the wealth of a bloated few! And we, the drones, sat mildewing in the little open s.p.a.ce below!

"The man next to me, his head hanging over the back of the bench in ghastly jointlessness, awoke with a snort, stared about him stupidly, and something like a sob bubbled up from his Adam-appled throat. He wiped his eyes with the back of a grimy paw, and diving into a greasy pocket pulled out a short black pipe. Between consoling puffs he jerked out, 'A man's a d.a.m.n fool--a d.a.m.n fool, I say, to come to New York to look for a job! That's why _you_ are here. Oh, I know. I can tell.

You're a stranger all right; that's easy to see. You look the part.'

"'That's so,' said I, 'and worse. I am about down and out. Financially, I stand exactly twenty-one--no--twenty-three cents to the good.'

"'I am right with you, friend--only more so. I have nothing, absolutely nothing! You've twenty-three cents, hey? A bad number, that twenty-three. Give me the odd penny, and perhaps luck'll change for both of us.' I put the copper into his hand, and in chucking it into his pocket he dropped it. It rolled out to the center of the walk, and in an instant not less than a dozen men made a determined rush for it. There was a desperate struggle; others joined; it became a mad, screaming, tumbling, sweating mob. Instantly a crowd from outside gathered, and a free-for-all fight began. Hundreds flocked in from the adjacent streets.

The affair quickly a.s.sumed the proportions of a riot. Knives and revolvers were brought into play. It was every man against his neighbor, and an unreasoning wave of frenzy and blood seemed to sweep over the crowd. The police rushed in from all quarters, but their efforts seemed powerless. My new acquaintance and myself, the innocent cause of all the trouble, managed to escape from the thick of the fray--he with the loss of a hat and a bleeding face; and I in much worse shape--physically sound, but--I had lost my twenty-two cents! We hurriedly entered a dark canyon which led to wider paths where quiet reigned. The tumult in the park, sharply accentuated by pistol shots, came to us like the roar of falling water.

"'What an astonishing thing!' said my companion. 'And all for a penny--a bloomin' penny! And to think of the fabulous wealth stored in the midst of all these tigers! Do you suppose that mere walls of steel and granite could withstand the fury of such a mob as this great city now holds, straining at its leash? Horrible things will happen in New York one of these days, and we will not have long to wait for it either. Discipline of the crudest sort, and a leader, is all that is needed to start a great army of destruction in motion!'

"'But how about the police, the Federal and State troops, supposed to be in instant readiness?' I urged.

"'They would count as nothing before the fury of an organized mob. A portion of the monstrous mountain of wealth stored here in New York City should be moved to a central, safer point; say St. Louis, Omaha, or even further west to Denver. It's piling up here is an ever-present menace and danger. It is a serious problem.'

"'Quite so,' agreed I; 'but there is a much more serious problem confronting you and me just at present, and that is a certain sickening emptiness which makes one weak and giddy. My few coppers stood between us and--and--well, serious thoughts of the future. I have never begged nor stolen, and yet----'

"'Oh, don't bother about that. The thing's easy,' said my friend; 'just watch me.'

"A fat, prosperous-looking man approached. His sleek face, garlanded with mutton-chop whiskers, was creased in smiles. Evidently a broker who had just 'done' some one, was my sour thought. There were but few on the street, and the outlook for business was favorable.

"'Pardon me, friend,' whined my companion, stepping out in front of him, 'but can't you give a fellow a lift? I'm a mechanic by trade, and----'

"'Oh, cut it out!' said the fat man, leering knowingly. 'I'm on to what you're going to say. Why don't you fellows vary your song and dance--just for luck? G'wan. Get out of the way!' And he tried to side-step us. With a quick glance over his shoulder, my new acquaintance shoved a revolver right up in the teeth of the prosperous one. Skyward the podgy, bejeweled hands, and we deftly went through him, securing his wallet, watch, scarf-pin, and then stripped his fingers of their adornment. It was over in a flash, and the fat man on his back by a dexterous push and go-down which the j.a.ps might add with advantage to their much-vaunted jiu-jitsu.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "--Shoved a revolver right up in the teeth of the prosperous one!"]

"'Beat it!' urged my companion, and 'beat it' we did; dropping casually but hurriedly into a corner saloon, then through a side entrance out into another street. I looked at my friend admiringly.

"'I suppose there's h.e.l.l to pay around the corner just now,' said he coolly; 'but we are as safe here as if we were in Jersey City--and safer. Still, it won't do to linger. Come this way,' and he led me into a lunch-room of the baser sort.

"'Sit here, at this table, and I will eat at the counter. We had best not be seen together, though they would never look for us here.' I gazed at him in amazement. My bearded friend had become smooth-shaven! His neck, but a moment before collarless, was now surrounded by a high white-washed wall; he flashed a crimson tie, and somehow his clothes looked newer and sprucer. Of all the lightning-change acts I have ever seen, this was certainly the extreme tip of the limit!