“Chivalry” by Gordon Young

by Monte Herridge

  Adventure, Mid March 1919

  F YOU had asked “Squint-Eye” Lewis —

  engaged in his means of livelihood, though

  the same who ran a saloon in Comber

  ordinarily he would have scorned such

  I Alley—about “Whitey Dick,” he would shoplifting tactics as had provided him with have told you that Whitey was a “square guy

  the ivory-and-gold-handled umbrella that he

  what never took a dollar off a goil er left a carried.

  frien’ in de lurch.”

  But a few seconds before he had taken

  If you had asked the police, any of the

  it from the side of a silk-shod, dainty-faced Central Office detectives would have told you lady of the other world whose slumming party with that offhand, casual positiveness that was chaperoned by a Central Office Dick who characterizes police the world over, that was proudly and continually assuring the Whitey was one of Squint-Eye’s gangsters

  white-breasted dudes and rosebud-faced

  whose sole means of livelihood was through

  dames that they were as safe under his care in taking other people’s property; that once in his the haunts of gangland as by their own

  career he had been in a set that operated with a firesides. Having certain vivid remembrances moving van on houses closed for the Summer,

  of an official introduction to that particular but this “business” had failed due to the detective, Whitey made off with the umbrella lengthy retirement of several of the partners.

  as a kind of oblique revenge.

  “A nervy little crook an’ he lays off skirts.

  And coming out of the side door he

  Says there ain’t a lad behind the bars but some bumped into the bedraggled girl, her wet skirts female put him there.”

  clinging to her legs and her soaked hat

  Such is often the conflicting testimony

  dropping over her face. He probably would

  regarding a man’s attitude toward women.

  not have bumped into her except that he had

  Here is an episode out of Whitey his eyes cast over his shoulders in a parting Dick’s life, and you may judge for yourself.

  glance at the detective who was volubly

  It was late and raining and Whitey was

  enlarging on the terror in which evil-doers, stepping out of the side door of “Dago Jim’s”

  particularly in this neighborhood, held him.

  place in something of a businesslike hurry

  Also, the edges of the girl’s wet hat drooped when he bumped into a girl. Whitey may be

  so that she could not see him coming through said to have been, at that moment, actively

  the doorway.

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  2

  “Why the —— don’t youse look soon as he.

  w’ere——”

  “Might ’ve knowed it,” he remarked

  But Whitey broke off abruptly. He was

  cynically to himself, meaning thereby that all wise to the way of women, and knew that

  women at that time of night around Comber

  many considered bumping into a man as good

  Alley were alike, though some of them might

  as an introduction—sometimes better than an

  not look it.

  introduction, for it permitted swift fingers to

  “Oh,” she said breathlessly, “I—I’m in

  empty a pocket. But this girl raised the edge of trouble.”

  her hat and gasped from fright. She was

  “Muh usual complaint,” he answered

  nothing but a child, sixteen or seventeen.

  coldly as his eyes wandered casually up and

  Whitey had seen many children on the

  down the dim street.

  streets, but these girl-children, that slunk into

  “I’m a stranger and I haven’t a friend.”

  dark corners at the padding footsteps of a

  “Huh,” said Whitey, eying her from tip

  harness bull, never gasped from fright when

  to toe.

  any one swore at them. They swore back.

  She had a pretty face but she had been

  Whitey had made a mistake. He could see her

  crying. Funny, he thought, that a woman with lips trembled as she stared at him.

  her face couldn’t have “friends.” Whitey was

  “Par-don muh!” said Whitey, cynical with the wisdom that is acquired in the exaggerating each syllable to show something byways and shadows.

  of how much he realized that he had been in

  “I was put out into the street an hour

  the wrong. And in a determined effort to be

  ago without a cent.”

  polite, he thrust the handle of the umbrella at She said it simply; not like a

  her, saying: “Here, youse take it. I’m just

  panhandler; not like one out to play the

  beatin’ across the street. Youse need it.”

  sympathy racket.

  An umbrella would not do her much

  “Huh?”

  more good than a sieve for she could not have There was a new note in it, something

  been more wet.

  that bespoke the possibility of high

  “No, no,” she protested, perhaps not

  indignation if her story were true. Whitey did fully understanding his intentions.

  not know whether to put faith in her or not. It

  “Take it er leave it,” he said, opening

  would not do any harm to listen—at least until and dropping it to the sidewalk. “Somebody’ll she asked for money and gave her hand away.

  grab it if youse don’t.”

  She was wet through and through. The

  And raising his coat-collar and pulling

  water streamed from her clinging skirts and

  his cap lower, Whitey started across the street.

  dripped through her shapeless hat and ran

  He did not have the righteous feeling that such down her face as they stood in the entrance

  gallantry might be expected to have inspired way of a pawn-shop.

  within him. He was wondering what she was

  “Where youse from?” he asked

  doing out alone where scarcely a woman that

  tentatively.

  walked the street at such an hour did not have She mentioned some little

  her moniker on the police blotter.

  pumpkinville place down in Kentucky.

  Whitey glanced back and saw her still

  “Where ’s you goin’?”

  standing by the umbrella; and she was looking It was not so very easy to understand

  after him. He quickly turned his head and

  him. His clipped words coming as though

  went on.

  from the side of his mouth were strange to her But she was across the street almost as

  ears. She told him that she had not known

  Chivalry

  3

  where she was going, but a man had spoken to into a good family, do a little housework and her a block or so away and had started to

  use her money for lessons. At the suggestion follow, and that she had been walking fast for of that same precious choir-leader she had put fear he would catch her, but that she had

  an ad in the paper. She had said in the ad that hoped to find a policeman.

  she had a little money and that she wanted to

  “No bulls loose on wet nights,” he

  study music and to live with nice people. And assured her; and she thought that a very sh
e gave her name and the address of the strange remark, but said nothing.

  cheap little rooming-house where she was

  So standing there in the entrance of a

  stopping until she could get settled.

  pawn-shop she started to tell him her story; It is not difficult to imagine what

  but before she had got far along with it, he happened. The first thing the very next

  saw how she shivered from the wet and cold

  morning a woman, middle-aged, richly

  and invited her around the corner to a little dressed, imposing, arrived even before

  hash-house with “tables for ladies.” She was a Roxanna was out of bed, and said that she had little reluctant to go, but she had a tale of woe seen the ad, because she was always on the

  and had found friendly ears. Besides, where

  lookout for a chance to help lonely girls,

  else was there to go?

  particularly girls who were musical.

  WITH a cup of steaming coffee, made of

  In less than ten minutes this Mrs.

  chicory and boiled to blackness, in her hand, Washburn, by her own account a widow who

  and untouched fried eggs before her, she told had lost her only daughter, had her arms

  her story. It was an old one. Babylon knew it, around Roxanna’s neck and was calling her

  and Rome. It is daily in the papers of New

  daughter; and also in that same ten minutes

  York, of Chicago, of any city. The details vary she knew that Roxanna had exactly three

  a little from day to day; but as long as the hundred and forty-seven dollars and fifty-four fame of cities is noised throughout the land, cents, was from Flemings, Kentucky, did not

  firing the young with desire, ambition, hope, have a friend nearer than that, and had nobody the story that Roxanna Blair told to Whitey

  in the world to depend on except a deaf,

  Dick will be common in the ears of men.

  doddering old aunt. Of course, she also knew After her father’s death she had taken

  about the choir-leader and what he had said

  some four hundred dollars, all she had come

  about Roxanna’s voice, and that he was a

  by through his death, and arrived in New York school-teacher and had once proposed to her; to be in due course of time a prima donna. She but Roxanna thought him dreadfully old at

  had a voice. The choir-leader at Flemings thirty-one, and besides she had her career.

  thought it a wonderful, wonderful voice, and Mrs. Washburn had not expected to

  advised that she go to New York—as deeply

  find Roxanna a girl who would appeal to her

  sorry as he was to have her go away. But

  so much; and nothing would do but that she

  matters of personal interest should not stand in get her suitcase and come right away home to the way of a career. The choir-leader was her live with her.

  best friend. An old aunt who had not been able Roxanna had never been in what she

  to hear for twenty years—and was glad of it, thought was so perfectly gorgeous a home. It because she did not like to be disturbed while was a rather large house too, and had so much reading tracts—was her only relative. Oh, yes, bright furniture and much red trappings that Roxanna knew that she would have to study

  Roxanna thought surely she had fallen into a and work hard and all that. She knew her

  palace to live, though there was only one

  money would not go far. So she planned to get servant, a negro maid, and Mrs. Washburn had

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  4

  no company except a man, her business Go back to your old graft, you thief!”

  adviser she called him, who came sometimes

  She was half-pushed and half-

  and stayed late. He had spells of heart frightened out of the house. The door closed trouble—Mrs. Washburn said when Roxanna

  behind her. And there she was in the rain,

  had once seen him staggering in the hall.

  without a thing excepting the clothes on her Mrs. Washburn told Roxanna that now

  back.

  as she had a good home, and didn’t need any

  And as she sat at the greasy oilclothcd

  money anyway—because she, Mrs. table in the dirty little hash-house, she Washburn, was going to pay for the lessons

  protested earnestly to Whitey Dick that she

  just as soon as she could decide on the best had never touched that ring; that the negro

  vocal instructor—that the money had better be maid must have taken it; that she was

  given to her for safe-keeping. She would put it extremely sorry and distressed that Mrs.

  in the bank, and of course Roxanna could have Washburn, who had been so good to her,

  it any time. The girl readily gave it to her.

  should believe she was a thief.

  Then Mrs. Washburn lost a “priceless”

  Whitey Dick inhaled deeply from a

  ring.

  cigaret and looked hard at the girl from under She accused the girl of being the thief,

  the low-drawn visor of his cap.

  and said that she had to give up that ring right

  “Say, kid, youse is one grand sucker,”

  away or the police would be called.

  he muttered not wholly unsympathetically, but Roxanna was terrified. The idea of the

  in an absent sort of a way as though his mind police frightened her into a panic, though she was on other things. “Wait a mo’,” he added

  was innocent and protested and cried and and, getting up from the table, went to a implored Mrs. Washburn to believe her. But it telephone and called a number with which he

  did no good. Mrs. Washburn must have her

  was too familiar to need to consult a book.

  ring.

  “Dis is Whitey. Say, Squint-Eye, I got

  Mrs. Washburn held a conversation a square goil on muh mits. Yuh, from de over the telephone with some one who she

  country. Kintucky—where’ver dat is. String

  said was the police and who was coming right me? Say, Squint-Eye, dis kid c’d fall in a

  out to get Roxanna.

  bucket o’ green paint an’ never show it. I

  The girl pleaded not to have her don’t know whata do wit’ ’er.” Whitey’s voice arrested, and Mrs. Washburn said:

  rose in accents of helplessness.

  “Well, get out of my house. Get out! I

  But the reply was what Whitey had

  was like a mother to you and you treat me like expected it would be. He was told to take the this!”

  girl around to Mrs. Squint-Eye Lewis. Squint-But Roxanna did not want to go. She

  Eye said that he would telephone and that she feared the police, but she was innocent. would be waiting for them.

  Besides, the great city terrified her.

  Mrs. Squint-Eye—whose eyes were

  And when Mrs. Washburn saw that the

  not squinted in the least—was waiting with

  girl was not going to run away, she became

  open arms. She took that poor, wet, shivering furious. She slapped her, and pulled her to the girl into them welcomingly.

  door. Roxanna mentioned the three hundred

  “Say,” Whitey whispered to Mrs.

  and forty-seven dollars and fifty-four cents.

  Lewis as she was busy with hot water and

  “Get out!” said the wrathful woman.

  brandy. “She’ll spill ’er story to youse, but

  “No, I won’t give you a cent. You’re young

  don’t put ’er wise to that Washburn dame. It and good-looking. Besides, you have my ring.

  hoits t’ be misjudged; but it hoits longer to

  Chivalry

  5

  know youse been a mutt. I knows, b’lievc

&nb
sp; to a maid.

  muh. I’ve caught it both ways.”

  “Madame Washburn isn’t in.”

  Whitey went down to Comber Alley

  “Naw? Youse take dis to ’er, an’ see. I

  and had a talk with Squint-Eye, who told him comes from him.”

  not to be a fool. But Whitey was stubborn. He Thereupon Whitey presented the

  called it “his funeral,” said the “Wa’shburn personal card of a notorious young rounder

  skirt” had it coming and he was going to see who, a few nights before while a bit unsteady that she got it. Whitey Dick’s blood was up, on his legs and somewhat thick of tongue, had and though he was not considered a insisted upon assuring Whitey Dick that he particularly dangerous man, Squint-Eye knew

  was a prince of good fellows as well as a man him for a resourceful fellow who was willing of some importance. But he was only the son

  to take a certain amount of risks. So finally of a man of some importance. Whitey Dick

  Squint-Eye agreed to have some inquiries thought that if it came to a pinch the young made regarding Mrs. Washburn of 34 Dearing

  rounder could prove an alibi better than he.

  Place.

  The maid let Whitey in. He looked like

  The next day or two a friend of Squint-

  one of the gentry with whom madame had

  Eye’s did a little sleuthing on Whitey’s behalf often done business, and she went with the

  and reported that Mrs. Washburn had lived at card to find her.

  that address for some time, and had kept the Whitey looked about him. The house

  sort of a house that is not supposed to exist; was rather well-furnished on the flashy plan, but that a few weeks before she had got into with every thing chosen for effect. There was trouble with the Federal authorities. Though a piano, a Victrola too, a number of solid

  the police, for reasons best known to chairs, a large leather divan, curtains, some themselves, were willing enough to let her