CHAPTER XXV
THE "HAPPY DUST"
Veda Blair's rescue from the strange use that was made of the venomcame at a time when the city was aroused as it never had been beforeover the nation-wide agitation against drugs.
Already, it will be recalled, Kennedy and I had had some recentexperience with dope fiends of various kinds, but this case I set downbecause it drew us more intimately into the crusade.
"I've called on you, Professor Kennedy, to see if I can't interest youin the campaign I am planning against drugs."
Mrs. Claydon Sutphen, social leader and suffragist, had scarcely morethan introduced herself when she launched earnestly into the reason forher visit to us.
"You don't realize it, perhaps," she continued rapidly, "but very oftena little silver bottle of tablets is as much a necessary to some womenof the smart set as cosmetics."
"I've heard of such cases," nodded Craig encouragingly.
"Well, you see I became interested in the subject," she added, "when Isaw some of my own friends going down. That's how I came to plan thecampaign in the first place."
She paused, evidently nervous. "I've been threatened, too," she wenton, "but I'm not going to give up the fight. People think that drugsare a curse only to the underworld, but they have no idea what inroadsthe habit has made in the upper world, too. Oh, it is awful!" sheexclaimed.
Suddenly, she leaned over and whispered, "Why, there's my own sister,Mrs. Garrett. She began taking drugs after an operation, and now theyhave a terrible hold on her. I needn't try to conceal anything. It'sall been published in the papers--everybody knows it. Think ofit--divorced, disgraced, all through these cursed drugs! Dr. Coleman,our family physician, has done everything known to break up the habit,but he hasn't succeeded."
Dr. Coleman, I knew, was a famous society physician. If he had failed,I wondered why she thought a detective might succeed. But it wasevidently another purpose she had in mind in introducing the subject.
"So you can understand what it all means to me, personally," sheresumed, with a sigh. "I've studied the thing--I've been forced tostudy it. Why, now the exploiters are even making drug fiends ofmere--children!"
Mrs. Sutphen spread out a crumpled sheet of note paper before us onwhich was written something in a trembling scrawl. "For instance,here's a letter I received only yesterday."
Kennedy glanced over it carefully. It was signed "A Friend," and read:
"I have heard of your drug war in the newspapers and wish to help you,only I don't dare to do so openly. But I can assure you that if youwill investigate what I am about to tell you, you will soon be on thetrail of those higher up in this terrible drug business. There is alittle center of the traffic on West 66th Street, just off Broadway. Icannot tell you more, but if you can investigate it, you will be doingmore good than you can possibly realize now. There is one girl there,whom they call 'Snowbird.' If you could only get hold of her quietlyand place her in a sanitarium you might save her yet."
Craig was more than ordinarily interested. "And the children--what didyou mean by that?"
"Why, it's literally true," asserted Mrs. Sutphen in a horrified tone."Some of the victims are actually school children. Up there in 66thStreet we have found a man named Armstrong, who seems to be veryfriendly with this young girl whom they call 'Snowbird.' Her real name,by the way, is Sawtelle, I believe. She can't be over eighteen, a merechild, yet she's a slave to the stuff."
"Oh, then you have actually already acted on the hint in the letter?"asked Craig.
"Yes," she replied, "I've had one of the agents of our Anti-DrugSociety, a social worker, investigating the neighborhood."
Kennedy nodded for her to go on.
"I've even investigated myself a little, and now I want to employ someone to break the thing up. My husband had heard of you and so here Iam. Can you help me?"
There was a note of appeal in her voice that was irresistible to a manwho had the heart of Kennedy.
"Tell me just what you have discovered so far," he asked simply.
"Well," she replied slowly, "after my agent verified the contents ofthe letter, I watched until I saw this girl--she's a mere child, as Isaid--going to a cabaret in the neighborhood. What struck me was that Isaw her go in looking like a wreck and come out a beautiful creature,with bright eyes, flushed cheeks, almost youthful again. A mostremarkable girl she is, too," mused Mrs. Sutphen, "who always wears awhite gown, white hat, white shoes and white stockings. It must be amania with her."
Mrs. Sutphen seemed to have exhausted her small store of information,and as she rose to go Kennedy rose also. "I shall be glad to look intothe case, Mrs. Sutphen," he promised. "I'm sure there is something thatcan be done--there must be."
"Thank you, ever so much," she murmured, as she paused at the door,something still on her mind. "And perhaps, too," she added, "you mayrun across my sister, Mrs. Garrett."
"Indeed," he assured her, "if there is anything I can possibly do thatwill assist you personally, I shall be only too happy to do it."
"Thank you again, ever so much," she repeated with just a little chokein her voice.
For several moments Kennedy sat contemplating the anonymous letterwhich she had left with him, studying both its contents and thehandwriting.
"We must go over the ground up there again," he remarked finally."Perhaps we can do better than Mrs. Sutphen and her drug investigatorhave done."
Half an hour later we had arrived and were sauntering along the streetin question, walking slowly up and down in the now fast-gathering dusk.It was a typical cheap apartment block of variegated character, withpeople sitting idly on the narrow front steps and children spilling outinto the roadway in imminent danger of their young lives from everypassing automobile.
On the crowded sidewalk a creation in white hurtled past us. One glanceat the tense face in the flickering arc light was enough for Kennedy.He pulled my arm and we turned and followed at a safe distance.
She looked like a girl who could not have been more than eighteen, ifshe was as old as that. She was pretty, too, but already her face wasbeginning to look old and worn from the use of drugs. It wasunmistakable.
In spite of the fact that she was hurrying, it was not difficult tofollow her in the crowd, as she picked her way in and out, and finallyturned into Broadway where the white lights were welcoming the night.
Under the glare of a huge electric sign she stopped a moment, thenentered one of the most notorious of the cabarets.
We entered also at a discreet distance and sat down at a table.
"Don't look around, Walter," whispered Craig, as the waiter took ourorder, "but to your right is Mrs. Sutphen."
If he had mentioned any other name in the world, I could not have beenmore surprised. I waited impatiently until I could pick her out fromthe corner of my eye. Sure enough, it was Mrs. Sutphen and anotherwoman. What they were doing there I could not imagine, for neither hadthe look of habitues of such a place.
I followed Kennedy's eye and found that he was gazing furtively at aflashily dressed young man who was sitting alone at the far end in asort of booth upholstered in leather.
The girl in white, whom I was now sure was Miss Sawtelle, went over andgreeted him. It was too far to see just what happened, but the youngwoman after sitting down rose and left almost immediately. As nearly asI could make out, she had got something from him which she had droppedinto her handbag and was now hugging the handbag close to herselfalmost as if it were gold.
We sat for a few minutes debating just what to do, when Mrs. Sutphenand her friend rose. As she passed out, a quick, covert glance told usto follow. We did so and the two turned into Broadway.
"Let me present you to Miss McCann," introduced Mrs. Sutphen as wecaught up with them. "Miss McCann is a social worker and trainedinvestigator whom I'm employing."
We bowed, but before we could ask a question, Mrs. Sutphen criedexcitedly: "I think I have a clue, anyway. We've traced the source ofthe drugs at least as far as that youn
g fellow, 'Whitecap,' whom yousaw in there."
I had not recognized his face, although I had undoubtedly seen picturesof him before. But no sooner had I heard the name than I recognized itas that of one of the most notorious gang leaders on the West Side.
Not only that, but Whitecap's gang played an important part in localpolitics. There was scarcely a form of crime or vice to which Whitecapand his followers could not turn a skilled hand, whether it wasswinging an election, running a gambling club, or dispensing "dope."
"You see," she explained, "even before I saw you, my suspicions werearoused and I determined to obtain some of the stuff they are using uphere, if possible. I realized it would be useless for me to try to getit myself, so I got Miss McCann from the Neighborhood House to try it.She got it and has turned the bottle over to me."
"May I see it?" asked Craig eagerly.
Mrs. Sutphen reached hastily into her handbag, drew forth a small brownglass bottle and handed it to him. Craig retreated into one of the lessdark side streets. There he pulled out the paraffinned cork from thebottle, picked out a piece of cotton stuffed in the neck of the bottleand poured out some flat tablets that showed a glistening white in thepalm of his hand. For an instant he regarded them.
"I may keep these?" he asked.
"Certainly," replied Mrs. Sutphen. "That's what I had Miss McCann getthem for."
Kennedy dropped the bottle into his pocket.
"So that was the gang leader, 'Whitecap,'" he remarked as we turnedagain to Broadway.
"Yes," replied Mrs. Sutphen. "At certain hours, I believe he can befound at that cabaret selling this stuff, whatever it is, to anyone whocomes properly introduced. The thing seems to be so open and notoriousthat it amounts to a scandal."
We parted a moment later, Mrs. Sutphen and Miss McCann to go to thesettlement house, Craig and I to continue our investigations.
"First of all, Walter," he said as we swung aboard an uptown car, "Iwant to stop at the laboratory."
In his den, which had been the scene of so many triumphs, Kennedy begana hasty examination of the tablets, powdering one and testing it withone chemical after another.
"What are they?" I asked at length when he seemed to have found theright reaction which gave him the clue.
"Happy dust," he answered briefly.
"Happy dust?" I repeated, looking at him a moment in doubt as towhether he was joking or serious. "What is that?"
"The Tenderloin name for heroin--a comparatively new derivative ofmorphine. It is really morphine treated with acetic acid which rendersit more powerful than morphine alone."
"How do they take them? What's the effect?" I asked.
"The person who uses heroin usually powders the tablets and snuffs thepowder up the nose," he answered. "In a short time, perhaps only two orthree weeks, one can become a confirmed victim of 'happy dust.' Andwhile one is under its influence he is morally, physically and mentallyirresponsible."
Kennedy was putting away the paraphernalia he had used, meanwhiletalking about the drug. "One of the worst aspects of it, too," hecontinued, "is the desire of the user to share his experience with someone else. This passing on of the habit, which seems to be one of thestrongest desires of the drug fiend, makes him even more dangerous tosociety than he would otherwise be. It makes it harder for anyone onceaddicted to a drug to shake it off, for his friends will give him nochance. The only thing to do is to get the victim out of hisenvironment and into an entirely new scene."
The laboratory table cleared again, Kennedy had dropped into a deepstudy.
"Now, why was Mrs. Sutphen there?" he asked aloud. "I can't think itwas solely through her interest for that girl they call Snowbird. Shewas interested in her, but she made no attempt to interfere or tofollow her. No, there must have been another reason."
"You don't think she's a dope fiend herself, do you?" I asked hurriedly.
Kennedy smiled. "Hardly, Walter. If she has any obsession on thesubject, it is more likely to lead her to actual fanaticism against allstimulants and narcotics and everything connected with them. No, youmight possibly persuade me that two and two equal five--but notseventeen. It's not very late. I think we might make another visit tothat cabaret and see whether the same thing is going on yet."
The War Terror Page 25
