THE BAND OF HATRED.
Down on the East Side of New York, in Rivington Street, and some
distance east of the Bowery, on the second floor of one of the oldest
buildings in the city, a remarkable meeting was being held during the
night that followed the receipt of Madge's letter by Nick Carter.
In a room on this floor, which was brilliantly lighted by four gas jets
blazing from the chandelier, nine people were seated. They were gathered
along two sides of the room, in which was a centre table, and behind
this table was Black Madge.
Before her on the table were various sheets of letter paper, which she
had turned from a pad one after another as she made notes upon them, and
in her hand she held a pencil which ever and anon flew rapidly over the
paper while she recorded such information concerning those who were
present with her as she cared to remember.
They had been present in that room for upward of an hour, and during
that time Madge had questioned each one of the eight who faced her
concerning the statements they had made, and which she had noted.
Now she leaned back in her chair, and, holding one of the sheets of
paper in her hand, she said:
"Stand up, Scar-faced Johnny, and answer the questions I shall ask you."
One of them, a short, stocky, red-headed, brutalized being, who was
almost as broad as he was long, leaped to his feet, thrust his hands
deeply into his pockets, and with his chin stuck forward aggressively,
waited.
"You hate Nick Carter, do you, Johnny?" Madge asked.
"I hate him like poison."
"And you would kill him if you could?"
"I'd cut his throat in half a minute if I was sure of not being caught."
"Tell me again why you hate him so."
"Ain't he sent me twice to prison? Once for four years and once for
three. And the last time he done it didn't he hand me a welt alongside
of the jaw that I'll never forget? A man can't hit me like that and have
me love him afterward. You just show me the way to do it, Black Madge,
and I'll lay him out cold--so cold that he'll never get over it again.
All I want is a chance."
"All right," said Madge, "take your seat.
"Now, Slippery Al, you stand up. What's your line of graft, Slippery?"
Slippery, who was tall, and sallow, and lean, and unkempt, and who
looked consumptive and otherwise unwholesome, grinned sheepishly, as he
replied:
"I reckon my name ought to answer that question. I slips in and I slips
out where I can and when I can, and picks up anything that's lying
around."
Madge laughed scornfully.
"You don't look as if you had sense enough to hate anybody or anything,"
she said.
"Oh, I hate Nick Carter, right enough," was the unhesitating reply.
"Why do you hate him?"
"Because he sent my father and my mother and my two brothers to prison,
and they're all there now, and they weren't doing a thing that
interfered with him in any way."
"What were they doing?" asked Madge.
"Well, if you want to know it straight, Black Madge, they was running a
little counterfeit plant of their own--making dimes and quarters and a
few half dollars for some of us to blow in when we couldn't find the
real rhino."
"Running a counterfeit plant, eh?"
"That's it, marm."
"And Nick Carter sent them all to prison, did he?"
"He did that."
"How does it happen that he didn't send you along with them?"
"Well, I managed to slip out just in time," said Slippery, with one of
his sheepish grins; "but he sent a bullet after me when I was running
away that singed the hair over my right ear, and taking it all in all I
hate him about as much as anybody."
"Not enough to kill him if I should ask you to do it, do you?"
"Well, Madge, when it comes to killing, that ain't in my line; but if
you want me to lead him on somehow where somebody else could do the job,
I think I'd be about the covey that could do it."
"That'll do for you. Sit down, Slippery."
"What's your name?" she added to the man who was next him.
A dark, beetle-browed, heavy-jawed, coarse-featured man, who looked as
if he was as powerful as a giant, rose slowly to his feet, and replied
in a surly tone, and with an ugly glitter in his eyes:
"I have got about forty names; leastwise, the police say I have; but
they as knows me best calls me Bob for short; sometimes they fixes it up
a little by calling it Surly Bob. But I think that Bob will do for you."
"What have you got against Nick Carter, Surly Bob?" asked Madge,
smiling. She liked the looks of this hard-featured individual. He was
just brutal enough in his appearance to satisfy her ideas of what a man
should be.
Bob deliberately took a huge chew of tobacco into his mouth before he
replied, and then, with a slow and almost bovine indifference, he
responded:
"I don't know as it makes much difference to you, Black Madge, what I
hate him for as long as I do hate him, and I'm bound to get square with
him some day, whether I do it in connection with this organization that
you're getting together or on my own hook without the help of any of
you," and he glanced defiantly around. "It's enough that I do hate him.
He's done enough to me to make me hate him. It's enough that if I had
him alone in this room to-night one of us would never leave it alive
unless he got the best of me without killing me, for I would certainly
do him if I got half a chance.
"But I'll tell you one thing about him that maybe it will do some of you
good to hear, for I give you fair warning that you want to give Nick
Carter a wide berth unless you can manage somehow to catch him foul.
He's about as strong as three horses, and if he ever succeeds in getting
his grip on you you're gone. I'm about as tough as they make them, but
I'm a wee baby in Nick Carter's hands, and don't any of you forget it."
"Tell us the story," said Madge.
"Oh, it ain't no story; it's just a short account. We ran into each
other once near the front door of a bank I had gone into after hours and
without the permission of the president and board of directors. When I
picked myself up from the middle of the street after he grabbed me there
was a crack in the top of my skull which didn't get well for three
months. That's all I've got to say about it, but I want to add this: If
that fellow Slippery Al, who says killing ain't in his line, but leading
astray is, wants to bring Nick Carter my way, and will fetch him along
so as I can get him foul, I'll fix him for keeps, and no questions
asked."
And Surly Bob sat down.
He had no sooner taken his seat than the individual next to him sprang
up without waiting to be asked to do so. If you had encountered this
individual along Broadway or on Fifth Avenue in New York City, you might
not have devoted a second glance to him; but if you had, and still had
not studied him closely, you would not have thought him other than a
gentleman.
His features were handsome or would have been handsome were it not for
the crafty and shifty expression of his eyes and the otherwise
insincerity that was manifest in his face. Among his companions of the
underworld he was known far and near as Gentleman Jim.
By profession he was what is known as a confidence man, although it was
said of him that he had the courage to take any part that might be
required of him in preying upon the world at large.
He had been known to assist, and to do it well, at a bank robbery. He
had once lived for some time in Chicago as a highwayman. It was said of
him that in his youth he had begun his career of crime by rustling
cattle in the far West, and that he was as quick and as sure with a gun
as any "bad man" of that region.
His attire was immaculate and in the height of fashion. He was clean
shaven, and he wore eyeglasses which gave to him somewhat of a
professional look, and which he had been heard to say were excellent
things to hide the expression in a man's eyes.
In stature he was tall, rather broad, and extremely well built. In
short, Madge looked upon him when he rose with undoubted admiration in
her eyes, as if she believed that here was a man who could be anything
he chose to be in the criminal world.
When he spoke it was in an evenly modulated tone of voice which might
have done excellent service in a drawing-room; and, moreover, his voice
was pleasant to listen to.
"I suppose you would like to hear from me, as well as from the others,
Madge," he said slowly. "I haven't got very much to say, except that I
don't take much stock in boasted hatreds. Where I was raised, and where
I began my career--and I am not particularly proud of that career--when
we hated anybody we rarely said much about it, but I will say this to
you, and to the others who are here: I am very glad that this
organization is being perfected. I am very glad that some concerted
action is to be taken against this man, Nick Carter, who has come pretty
near putting us all out of business. You all know who I am, and some of
you have got a pretty good idea what I am. Nick Carter knows about as
much about me as any of you, which, after all is said, is next to
nothing at all. But I have been on a still hunt for Mr. Nick Carter for
some time, and when I get him in a position which Surly Bob calls foul,
I shan't wait to send to any of you for assistance. I'll do the rest
myself."
"And now you," said Madge, fixing her eyes upon the individual who was
seated next to Gentleman Jim "Rise in your place and tell us your name,
and make us a little speech, as the others have done."
"My name is Cummings--Fly Cummings, I'm called. Some of the bunch here
knows me and some don't. Those that do know me don't need to be told
anything about me, and those that don't know me are just as well off.
I'm in business for myself, and always have been. The world owes me a
living, and it's been paying it pretty regular ever since I was sixteen
years old, and I'm now coming sixty-two. I'm like the others here in one
respect: I've got a grudge against the man we've been talking about.
I've never been able to make him feel it, because I've always fought
mighty shy of him rather than get within his reach; but when I heard
that this here movement had been started going by you, Madge, and the
word was passed around among the guns downtown that you wanted a few of
us that hated Nick Carter to come to the captain's office and form a
little organization, it struck me that it was just about the right thing
to do. I've heard what Surly Bob had to say, and I know that Surly isn't
the sort of chap that's in the habit of talking through his hat. If
Surly Bob had it in for me I'd patronize the New York Central Railroad,
and take a train out of town right away.
"I've heard what Gentleman Jim had to say, and if Jim was looking for my
gore to-night, I'd take a steamer across the ocean or commit suicide,
because I'd know I couldn't get away from him in any other way.
"I've heard what Slippery Al had to say, and while Slippery ain't of
much account, he's about the nastiest toad that ever picked a pocket,
and I wouldn't care to have him down on me.
"And as for Scar-faced Johnny, well, Johnny is a bad one, too. I ain't
making any threats particularly, Madge, but I'm willing to join this
organization, or I wouldn't be here, and I want to say now that when
you're fixing up the business, and arrange for the signals so that we
can summons each other when we want them, I'll do my part to the tune of
compound interest; and I guess that'll be about all from me."
The sixth man of the party, who was the next to get upon his feet, had
the stamp of prison life all over him. His face bespoke the pallor which
is acquired in no other place in the world, and the vicious, shifty,
sneaking gleam in his eyes spoke well of the craftiness which is the
result of long confinement under the domination of brutal guards and
turnkeys.
So recently had he escaped from prison, apparently, that his hair was
still cropped short to his skull, and one almost expected when looking
at him to see the stripes of prison garb upon him.
"I am Joe Cuthbert," he said slowly, in a tone so low that it could
scarcely be heard. "I wouldn't have come here to-night at all if I
hadn't been assured on the level that it would be perfectly safe to do
so. I don't think there is any one of you in this room except Madge
herself who knows me, but you will all hear from me later on as sure as
I'm alive and can escape arrest.
"You may have been told since you came here that I have just escaped
from prison, or if you haven't been told it, and know how to read, you
have probably seen the rewards for my recapture. You will know, too,
that I was sent up for croaking another chap, or, as they call it in the
courts, for murder. I want you all to know that I served eight years.
Eight years of hell, and that I've come out of there with the
determination of getting square with the man that sent me up. That man
was Nick Carter; and that's all I've got to say."
There was a moment of utter silence after this announcement, which had
in it many of the elements of the dramatic.
There was not a person in that room who had not seen the inside of a
prison, and many of them had served as many as four years, while others
had been in prison many times for short terms.
But to have just escaped from prison after having been confined for
eight long years seemed to them the climax of the possibilities of
hatred.
But the moment passed, and Madge fixed her eyes upon the seventh of the
group, who slowly rose to his feet and said:
"After what we've just heard, Madge, it doesn't seem that anything that
I can say can add to the intensity of feeling that pervades this
distinguished assembly. I regard it as quite an honor to be among those
who know so well how to hate. As for me, I have also been inside a
prison, to which this man Nick Carter sent me. I had been mixed up in a
little diamond robbery from one of the big firms in this town. I don't
know but maybe some of you heard about it; it was called the taking of
the pear-shaped diamonds, and at the time that happened I was in love
with a very beautiful girl, and was outwardly leading a very respectable
life. It's enough for me to say now that when the exposure that
followed Nick Carter's investigation of that case, and through it the
exposure of all my previous criminal record, which before that time I
had been able to conceal, the girl went back on me, and would have
nothing more to do with me. Now she is married to another man, and while
I don't blame her any, I do blame the man that exposed me, and if any of
you people that are gathered here can help me in getting square with him
I'll be eternally grateful. My name is Eugene Maxwell."
There was only one other individual left in this collection who had not
as yet spoken, and now, although Madge fixed her eyes instantly upon
him, he remained in his chair as he was, with immovable, sphinxlike
countenance and gloomy eyes. He was a tall, spare, rather well-dressed
figure, when he rose at last in reply to her spoken request, and he
stood, half leaning upon a cane which he held in his two hands, and bent
a little toward her as he spoke.
"I haven't any name, so far as anybody knows," he said slowly, and with
distinct and deliberate enunciation. "It has pleased my friends always
to bestow a title upon me. Until to-night I have always worked alone,
and have rarely made myself known to any of the inhabitants of the
underworld, and if any of you here have ever happened to be told about
The Parson, you will know who I am."
There was a distinct stir in the room when he uttered this name or
title, for The Parson had always been more or less a mystery, and one
that was much envied by thieves generally. He was a confidence man of
the higher type; the sort of man who would go into strange cities or
villages or communities, and represent himself to be a professional man;
sometimes a minister; sometimes a priest; again a rabbi; and it was his
graft to solicit and collect contributions for charitable purposes upon
forged recommendations and letters which he had prepared in advance.
His success in this line had been enormous, and his work had always been
done in the dark and alone, until six years before this particular
occasion, having done it once too often, Nick Carter had trailed him
down and captured him.
He continued:
"I was always very successful in my line of graft until Nick Carter got
after me, and while I didn't get quite so long a term as our friend
Cuthbert, I was sent up for five years, and served four years and three
months of it. I want to say to you now that every night and every
morning of my life during those four years and three months I cursed
Nick Carter and everybody and everything that belonged to him. That's
why I'm here. I take part in this little scheme that Madge has concocted
to down that fellow with the greatest pleasure I have ever known. If you
should happen to be in want of funds any time----"
"I'll supply the funds," interrupted Madge.
"All the same, if you should happen to be in want of funds at any time,
all you've got to do is to whisper it to The Parson and I'll put my hand
down in my pocket and supply the dollars, for I've got a few left, and I
know where there are a lot more to be obtained."
He resumed his seat slowly, rested his chin upon the head of his cane
between his hands, and the gloomy look came over his face again like a
mask.
And now Madge stood up behind the table, resting her hands upon it, and
leaning a little bit forward as she spoke.
"I'm a proud woman, my friends," she said. "I'm a young woman, too,
being not yet twenty-four, and a good hater. I am part Spanish and part
French. I was raised in Paris, and learned all that I know about my
business over there. The first time that I ever saw Nick Carter in my
life was in the office of the Prefecture of Police in the room of the
Chief of the Secret Service. I was seventeen years old at the time when
the chief had sent for me to question me about the death of a woman
which had occurred in the house where I lived on the floor above me, and
about which, fortunately, I knew absolutely nothing.
"But Nick Carter came into the chief's office while I was there. I had
only a fleeting glance of him at the time. I left the room almost as
soon as he entered it. I did not see him again for five years, at which
time he came in disguise to the thieves' headquarters where I was
staying. I recognized him that time by his eyes, but nevertheless he
captured me and sent me to jail.
"I escaped from that jail before I came to trial, and did it through the
help of my friends. Somewhat later than that he hunted me down a second
time, but I escaped, and I have sworn now to be even with him, and that
is why I have brought you here together. You will please to stand up
now, raise your right hands, and repeat after me in taking the oath of
The Band of Hatred."