The Forged Note. Micheaux Oscar

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СКАЧАТЬ way. The great fault he was finding daily with those of his race, was that they did not read, did not observe, and were not informed in the many things they could just as well have known.

      As the days went by, Sidney's friendship with Edwards developed to the point, where Edwards insisted upon paying half the rent for the privilege of loafing in the office whenever he was at leisure. Sidney did not inquire his business, or what he was engaged in; but his curiosity was aroused nevertheless. His friend always had plenty of money and spent it not foolishly, but freely. He never permitted Wyeth to pay for anything, and he never ate a meal that came to less than two dollars.

      After a few days, another fellow joined him, who, while surrounded with an air of mystery, did not happen to possess so much apparent education. His name was Smyles, and he purported to be from Boston. At the same time acknowledged Alabama to be his birth place. He still carried the accent. He was dark of visage, had long legs, and wore trousers around them, which appeared never to have been pressed. (Wyeth wondered why some of the many pressing clubs did not kidnap him alive.) His head was small and obviously hard, and he wore his top hair so closely cropped, that no one could quite describe what kind it was.

      Now Smyles was a sport, likewise a spender, and, moreover, with money a-plenty to spend. And, as the days passed and Wyeth became better acquainted with him, he learned that he was "mashed" on the girls to a considerable degree. For instance: There was Lucy, who waited on them at Miss Payne's cafe, who got "crazy" about him. He did about her, too, for awhile, at least he pretended to. Then he became interested likewise in another who had "better hair" than Lucy. Thereupon Lucy became "mad" with jealousy, and threatened to do something "awful." She didn't, so we leave her to her fate, and go on with Smyles who becomes, for the present, the hero of this story.

      "Smyles is a great fellow," remarked Sidney humorously to Edwards, one day.

      "Isn't he the limit?" said Edwards, with a touch of disgust.

      "All the girls are liking him," resumed Sidney, enjoying the conversation and discussion.

      "Takes with all the kitchen mechanics, and anything else that wears a skirt." Edwards had dignity, a great deal of it, Wyeth had come now to know. He was plainly disgusted. Sidney went on.

      "Has lots of money to spend, which makes it exceedingly convenient."

      "He's the luckiest coon in town," said Edwards thoughtfully.

      "Indeed!"

      "Shoots craps I think."

      "And wins, evidently."

      That Wyeth might not gather an adverse opinion of him—or rather, a questionable one, Edwards had informed him that he was connected with a northern philanthropic organization. Wyeth assumed that he was connected with something of the kind, and that he was actually the recipient of plenty of the dispensation. Every Monday he would go uptown, and return with a roll. Most of this would be spent by the next Monday, which was unusual.

      He didn't gamble, but better light will be thrown on this later.

      About a year before, there had been committed in Attalia, a most dastardly murder. A man, a Jew he was, had killed a little girl, a gentile. This murder had occasioned more comment in those sections, than had anything in the way of crime for a decade. We stated that the Jew had killed the girl; it should have been said that he was accused of having killed her.

      This was the state of affairs in regard to the murder at the time of our story. Notwithstanding the fact that the Jew was accused of the murder, the charge against him, and the public sentiment in particular, had reached a very serious stage. It would have been very serious for any one to be accused of such a crime in those parts, be she gentile, Jewess, or anyone with a white face.

      The body of this girl had been found in the basement of a factory, at which she was employed at a very small wage, foully murdered. It was a mystery at first, as to who was the murderer. A Negro had been arrested and charged with the crime. It appeared that he was surely guilty; but he wasn't—at least so it was decided shortly afterwards. It was confidentially whispered about town to this day, and may be for all time, that he was a lucky Negro, too. Because, with the way they treat Negroes accused of doing much less serious things in a part of this country, he was fortunate to have been accused in Attalia, where protection is quite ample now, and not in some of the smaller places—but we are digressing.

      Evidently he was not felt to be guilty, and, moreover, since suspicion was quickly diverted to the Jew. And yet he, the Negro, had been discovered in the back yard of the factory, washing a bloody shirt. Such incriminating evidence! For some reason, the people could not seem to bring themselves to feel that the Negro had sense enough to kill the girl, had he wished to. He was put through a severe examination of some length, and finally confessed to having helped the real murderer dispose, or try to dispose of the body after it was all over. It was, of course, duly found and as duly buried. It was, thereafter, exhumed two or three times, as evidence for the state. The Jew was discovered acting very peculiarly a few days after the murder. So they had taken him into custody to ascertain the cause of these actions. Accusations followed, and he was in time brought before the high tribunal on a charge of murder, convicted and sentenced to be hanged until dead, however long that might be. The date of execution was set for a day, which happened to be the same day a year later, than that upon which he was supposed to have committed the deed.

      Thus our story found it.

      Sentencing a man to be hanged, and hanging him, however, are two very different things. Yet the court persisted. It was determined to carry out the decision of the jury of "twelve good men and true,"[A] this Jew, scion of Jacob, of Israel, of Solomon, and Job, and others, had money at his back, plenty of it, as we shall see presently; and they were spending it lavishly, to save his neck, which was long. Perhaps that explains what came to pass later.

      The counsel for the defense hired a detective, A Great Detective. The greatest detective in all the world. No one can deny this, since he said so himself, at least this is how he was quoted by a paper, which, for the purpose of this story, we shall call the "Big Noise." It was a "noise," too. But, to get back to the detective, The Great Detective.

      The leading papers corroborated the fact that he was the greatest in the world, and so he shall be, in this story, as well. We are compelled to quote the "Big Noise" again. It claimed, very urgently, that these papers were paid to corroborate the detective. So be it.

      The leading dailies and the greatest detective in the world got together, with a view to obtaining a new trial for the Jew, after which they hoped, of course, in some subtle manner, to extricate him from his very embarrassing predicament.

      The detective did the posing, and he was some poser, and the papers did the rest. The most obstinate proposition which they were up against, was that the people believed the Jew to be guilty, but naturally read the papers.

      Now The Great Detective's picture had been seen by almost everybody who read, or ever had read anything, so we must appreciate that he was a familiar figure. But, in addition to what had occurred in regard to the detective, more came to pass. Pages of the Sunday edition were devoted to his cut, and other pages to his ability as a mystery solver. From the way the papers wrote of him and reproduced his pose, he made Sherlock Holmes, Raffles, Arsene Lupin, and even Nick Carter, look like thirty cents with the three invisible.

      He began, in opening the case, a series of angles. At first, of course, he viewed it from an Attalia angle. Forthwith, after this, he went to Chicago and viewed it from a windy angle. From St. Louis, СКАЧАТЬ