ROBERT BARR Ultimate Collection: 20 Novels & 65+ Detective Stories. Robert Barr

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СКАЧАТЬ caught his breath and glanced quickly at Murren.

      "No," he said at last. "I don't, but perhaps the religious editor does.

       Better ask him."

      The religious editor smiled and removed his corn-cob pipe.

      "There aren't any," he said. "Didn't you know it was against the law to keep a gambling house in this state? Yes, sir!" Then he put his corn- cob pipe back in its place.

      McCrasky was pleased to see that his young men knew so little of the wickedness of a great city; nevertheless he was there to give them some information, so he said quietly:

      "Certainly it is against the law; but many things that are against the law flourish in a city like this. Now I want you to find out before the week is past how many gambling houses there are and where they are located. When you are sure of your facts we will organize a raid and the news will very likely be exclusive, for it will be late at night and the other papers may not hear of it."

      "Suppose," said the religious editor, with a twinkle in his eye, as he again removed his corn-cob, "that—assuming such places to exist—you found some representatives of the other papers there? They are a bad lot, the fellows on the other papers."

      "If they are there," said the local editor, "they will go to prison."

      "They won't mind that, if they can write something about it," said

       Murren gloomily. In his opinion the Argus was going to the dogs.

      "Now, Thompson," said McCrasky, "you as criminal reporter must know a lot of men who can give you particulars for a first-rate article on the evils of gambling. Get it ready for Saturday's paper—a column and a half, with scare heads. We must work up public opinion."

      When the boys got back into the local room again, Murren sat with his head in his hands, while Thompson leaned back in his chair and laughed.

      "Work up public opinion," he said. "Mac had better work up his own knowledge of the city streets, and not put Bolder avenue in the East End, as he did this morning."

      The religious editor was helping himself to tobacco from Murren's drawer. "Are you going to put Mellish on his guard?" he asked Thompson.

      "I don't just know what I'm going to do," said Thompson; "are you?"

      "I'll think about it," replied the R. E. "Beastly poor tobacco, this of yours, Murren. Why don't you buy cut plug?"

      "You're not compelled to smoke it," said the sporting editor, without raising his head.

      "I am when mine is out, and the other fellows keep their drawers locked."

      Thompson dropped in on Mellish, the keeper of the swell gambling rooms, to consult with him on the article for Saturday's paper. Mellish took a great interest in it, and thought it would do good. He willingly gave Thompson several instances where the vice had led to ruin of promising young men.

      "All men gamble in some way or another," said Mellish meditatively. "Some take it one way and some another. It is inherent in human nature, like original sin. The beginning of every business is a gamble. If I had $30,000 I would rather run my chance of doubling it at these tables here than I would, for instance, by starting a new newspaper or putting it on wheat or in railway stocks. Take a land boom, for instance, such as there was in California or at Winnipeg—the difference between putting your money in a thing like that or going in for legitimate gambling is that, in the one case, you are sure to lose your cash, while in the other you have a chance of winning some. I hold that all kinds of gambling are bad, unless a man can easily afford to lose what he stakes. The trouble is that gambling affects some people like liquor. I knew a man once who——" but you can read the whole article if you turn up the back numbers of the Argus.

      Thompson told Mellish about McCrasky. Mellish was much interested, and said he would like to meet the local editor. He thought the papers should take more interest in the suppression of gambling dens than they did, and for his part he said he would like to see them all stopped, his own included. "Of course," he added, "I could shut up my shop, but it would simply mean that someone else would open another, and I don't think any man ever ran such a place fairer than I do."

      McCrasky called on the chief of police, and introduced himself as the local editor of the Argus.

      "Oh," said the chief, "has Gorman gone, then?"

      "I don't know about Gorman," said McCrasky; "the man I succeeded was

       Finnigan. I believe he is in Cincinnati now."

      When the chief learned the purport of the local editor's visit he became very official and somewhat taciturn. He presumed that there were gambling houses in the city. If there were, they were very quiet and no complaints ever reached his ears. There were many things, he said, that it was impossible to suppress, and the result of attempted suppression was to drive the evil deeper down. He seemed to be in favor rather of regulating, than of attempting the impossible; still, if McCrasky brought him undoubted evidence that a gambling house was in operation, he would consider it his duty to make a raid on it. He advised McCrasky to go very cautiously about it, as the gamblers had doubtless many friends who would give a tip and so frustrate a raid, perhaps letting somebody in for damages. McCrasky said he would be careful.

      Chance played into the hands of McCrasky and "blew in" on him a man who little recked what he was doing when he entered the local editor's room. Gus Hammerly, sport and man-about-town, dropped into the Argus office late one night to bring news of an "event" to the sporting editor. He knew his way about in the office, and, finding Murren was not in, he left the item on his table. Then he wandered into the local editor's room. The newspaper boys all liked Hammerly, and many a good item they got from him. They never gave him away, and he saw that they never got left, as the vernacular is.

      "Good-evening. You're the new local editor, I take it. I've just left a little item for Murren, I suppose he's not in from the wrestle yet. My name's Hammerly. All the boys know me and I've known in my time fourteen of your predecessors, so I may as well know you. You're from Pittsburg, I hear."

      "Yes. Sit down, Mr. Hammerly. Do you know Pittsburg at all?"

      "Oh, yes. Borden, who keeps the gambling den on X street, is an old friend of mine. Do you happen to know how old Borden's getting along?"

      "Yes, his place was raided and closed up by the police."

      "That's just the old man's luck. Same thing in Kansas City."

      "By the way, Mr. Hammerly, do you know of any gambling houses in this city?"

      "Why, bless you, haven't the boys taken you round yet? Well, now, that's inhospitable. Mellish's is the best place in town. I'm going up there now. If you come along with me I'll give you the knock-down at the door and you'll have no trouble after that."

      "I'll go with you," said McCrasky, reaching for his hat, and so the innocent Hammerly led the lamb into the lion's den.

      McCrasky, unaccustomed to the sight, was somewhat bewildered with the rapidity of the play. There was a sort of semicircular table, around the outside rim of which were sitting as many men as could be comfortably placed there. A man at the inside of the table handled the cards. He flicked out one to each player, face downward, with an expertness and speed that dazzled McCrasky. Next he dealt out one to each player face upward and people put sums of money on the table beside their cards, after looking at them. СКАЧАТЬ