In the time that followed, Mary lived in the flat which Aggie Lynch
occupied along with her brother, Jim, a pickpocket much esteemed among
his fellow craftsmen. The period wrought transformations of radical and
bewildering sort in both the appearance and the character of the girl.
Joe Garson, the forger, had long been acquainted with Aggie and her
brother, though he considered them far beneath him in the social scale,
since their criminal work was not of that high kind on which he prided
himself. But, as he cast about for some woman to whom he might take the
hapless girl he had rescued, his thoughts fell on Aggie, and forthwith
his determination was made, since he knew that she was respectable,
viewed according to his own peculiar lights. He was relieved rather than
otherwise to learn that there was already an acquaintance between the
two women, and the fact that his charge had served time in prison did
not influence him one jot against her. On the contrary, it increased in
some measure his respect for her as one of his own kind. By the time he
had learned as well of her innocence, he had grown so interested
that even her folly, as he was inclined to deem it, did not cause any
wavering in his regard.
Now, at last, Mary Turner let herself drift. It seemed to her that she
had abandoned herself to fate in that hour when she threw herself into
the river. Afterward, without any volition on her part, she had been
restored to life, and set within an environment new and strange to her,
in which soon, to her surprise, she discovered a vivid pleasure. So,
she fought no more, but left destiny to work its will unhampered by
her futile strivings. For the first time in her life, thanks to the
hospitality of Aggie Lynch, secretly reinforced from the funds of Joe
Garson, Mary found herself living in luxurious idleness, while her every
wish could be gratified by the merest mention of it. She was fed on the
daintiest of fare, for Aggie was a sybarite in all sensuous pleasures
that were apart from sex. She was clothed with the most delicate
richness for the first time as to those more mysterious garments which
women love, and she soon had a variety of frocks as charming as her
graceful form demanded. In addition, there were as many of books and
magazines as she could wish. Her mind, long starved like her body,
seized avidly on the nourishment thus afforded. In this interest, Aggie
had no share--was perhaps a little envious over Mary's absorption in
printed pages. But for her consolation were the matters of food and
dress, and of countless junketings. In such directions, Aggie was the
leader, an eager, joyous one always. She took a vast pride in her guest,
with the unmistakable air of elegance, and she dared to dream of great
triumphs to come, though as yet she carefully avoided any suggestion to
Mary of wrong-doing.
In the end, the suggestion came from Mary Turner herself, to the great
surprise of Aggie, and, truth to tell, of herself.
There were two factors that chiefly influenced her decision. The first
was due to the feeling that, since the world had rejected her, she
need no longer concern herself with the world's opinion, or retain any
scruples over it. Back of this lay her bitter sentiment toward the man
who had been the direct cause of her imprisonment, Edward Gilder. It
seemed to her that the general warfare against the world might well be
made an initial step in the warfare she meant to wage, somehow, some
time, against that man personally, in accordance with the hysterical
threat she had uttered to his face.
The factor that was the immediate cause of her decision on an irregular
mode of life was an editorial in one of the daily newspapers. This was
a scathing arraignment of a master in high finance. The point of the
writer's attack was the grim sarcasm for such methods of thievery as are
kept within the law. That phrase held the girl's fancy, and she read the
article again with a quickened interest. Then, she began to meditate.
She herself was in a curious, indeterminate attitude as far as concerned
the law. It was the law that had worked the ruin of her life, which she
had striven to make wholesome. In consequence, she felt for the law no
genuine respect, only detestation as for the epitome of injustice.
Yet, she gave it a superficial respect, born of those three years of
suffering which had been the result of the penalty inflicted on her. It
was as an effect of this latter feeling that she was determined on one
thing of vital importance: that never would she be guilty of anything
to pit her against the law's decrees. She had known too many hours
of anguish in the doom set on her life because she had been deemed a
violator of the law. No, never would she let herself take any position
in which the law could accuse her.... But there remained the fact that
the actual cause of her long misery was this same law, manipulated by
the man she hated. It had punished her, though she had been without
fault. For that reason, she must always regard it as her enemy, must,
indeed, hate it with an intensity beyond words--with an intensity equal
to that she bore the man, Gilder. Now, in the paragraph she had just
read she found a clue to suggestive thought, a hint as to a means by
which she might satisfy her rancor against the law that had outraged
her--and this in safety since she would attempt nought save that within
the law.
Mary's heart leaped at the possibility back of those three words,
“within the law.” She might do anything, seek any revenge, work any
evil, enjoy any mastery, as long as she should keep within the law.
There could be no punishment then. That was the lesson taught by the
captain in high finance. He was at pains always in his stupendous
robberies to keep within the law. To that end, he employed lawyers of
mighty cunning and learning to guide his steps aright in such tortuous
paths.
There, then, was the secret. Why should she not use the like means? Why,
indeed? She had brains enough to devise, surely. Beyond that, she
needed only to keep her course most carefully within those limits of
wrong-doing permitted by the statutes. For that, the sole requirement
would be a lawyer equally unscrupulous and astute. At once, Mary's mind
was made up. After all, the thing was absurdly simple. It was merely a
matter for ingenuity and for prudence in alliance.... Moreover, there
would come eventually some adequate device against her arch-enemy,
Edward Gilder.
Mary meditated on the idea for many days, and ever it seemed
increasingly good to her. Finally, it developed to a point where she
believed it altogether feasible, and then she took Joe Garson into
her confidence. He was vastly astonished at the outset and not quite
pleased. To his view, this plan offered merely a fashion of setting
difficulties in the way of achievement. Presently, however, the
sincerity and persistence of the girl won him over. The task of
convincing him would have been easier had he himself ever known the
torment of serving a term in prison. Thus far, however, the forger
had always escaped the penalty for his crimes, though often close to
conviction. But Mary's arguments were of a compelling sort as she set
them forth in detail, and they made their appeal to Garson, who was by
no means lacking in a shrewd native intelligence. He agreed that the
experiment should be made, notwithstanding the fact that he felt no
particular enthusiasm over the proposed scheme of working. It is likely
that his own strong feeling of attraction toward the girl whom he had
saved from death, who now appeared before him as a radiantly beautiful
young woman, was more persuasive than the excellent ideas which she
presented so emphatically, and with a logic so impressive.
An agreement was made by which Joe Garson and certain of his more
trusted intimates in the underworld were to put themselves under the
orders of Mary concerning the sphere of their activities. Furthermore,
they bound themselves not to engage in any devious business without her
consent. Aggie, too, was one of the company thus constituted, but she
figured little in the preliminary discussions, since neither Mary nor
the forger had much respect for the intellectual capabilities of the
adventuress, though they appreciated to the full her remarkable powers
of influencing men to her will.
It was not difficult to find a lawyer suited to the necessities of the
undertaking. Mary bore in mind constantly the high financier's reliance
on the legal adviser competent to invent a method whereby to baffle the
law at any desired point, and after judicious investigation she selected
an ambitious and experienced Jew named Sigismund Harris, just in the
prime of his mental vigors, who possessed a knowledge of the law only to
be equalled by his disrespect for it. He seemed, indeed, precisely
the man to fit the situation for one desirous of outraging the law
remorselessly, while still retaining a place absolutely within it.
Forthwith, the scheme was set in operation. As a first step, Mary Turner
became a young lady of independent fortune, who had living with her a
cousin, Miss Agnes Lynch. The flat was abandoned. In its stead was an
apartment in the nineties on Riverside Drive, in which the ladies
lived alone with two maids to serve them. Garson had rooms in the
neighborhood, but Jim Lynch, who persistently refused the conditions
of such an alliance, betook himself afar, to continue his reckless
gathering of other folk's money in such wise as to make him amenable to
the law the very first time he should be caught at it.
A few tentative ventures resulted in profits so large that the company
grew mightily enthusiastic over the novel manner of working. In each
instance, Harris was consulted, and made his confidential statement as
to the legality of the thing proposed. Mary gratified her eager mind
by careful studies in this chosen line of nefariousness. After a
few perfectly legal breach-of-promise suits, due to Aggie's winsome
innocence of demeanor, had been settled advantageously out of court,
Mary devised a scheme of greater elaborateness, with the legal acumen of
the lawyer to endorse it in the matter of safety.
This netted thirty thousand dollars. It was planned as the swindling
of a swindler--which, in fact, had now become the secret principle in
Mary's morality.
A gentleman possessed of some means, none too scrupulous himself, but
with high financial aspirations, advertised for a partner to invest
capital in a business sure to bring large returns. This advertisement
caught the eye of Mary Turner, and she answered it. An introductory
correspondence encouraged her to hope for the victory in a game of
cunning against cunning. She consulted with the perspicacious Mr.
Harris, and especially sought from him detailed information as to
partnership law. His statements gave her such confidence that presently
she entered into a partnership with the advertiser. By the terms
of their agreement, each deposited thirty thousand dollars to the
partnership account. This sum of sixty thousand dollars was ostensibly
to be devoted to the purchase of a tract of land, which should afterward
be divided into lots, and resold to the public at enormous profit. As
a matter of fact, the advertiser planned to make a spurious purchase
of the tract in question, by means of forged deeds granted by an
accomplice, thus making through fraud a neat profit of thirty thousand
dollars. The issue was, however, disappointing to him in the extreme. No
sooner was the sixty thousand dollars on deposit in the bank than Mary
Turner drew out the whole amount, as she had a perfect right to do
legally. When the advertiser learned of this, he was, naturally enough,
full to overflowing with wrath. But after an interview with Harris he
swallowed this wrath as best he might. He found that his adversary knew
a dangerous deal as to his various swindling operations. In short, he
could not go into court with clean hands, which is a prime stipulation
of the law--though often honored in the breach. But the advertiser's
hands were too perilously filthy, so he let himself be mulcted in raging
silence.
The event established Mary as the arbiter in her own coterie. Here was,
in truth, a new game, a game most entertaining, and most profitable,
and not in the least risky. Immediately after the adventure with the
advertiser, Mary decided that a certain General Hastings would make an
excellent sacrifice on the altar of justice--and to her own financial
profit. The old man was a notorious roue, of most unsavory reputation
as a destroyer of innocence. It was probable that he would easily fall a
victim to the ingenuous charms of Aggie. As for that precocious damsel,
she would run no least risk of destruction by the satyr. So, presently,
there were elaborate plottings. General Hastings met Aggie in the
most casual way. He was captivated by her freshness and beauty, her
demureness, her ignorance of all things vicious. Straightway, he set his
snares, being himself already limed. He showered every gallant attention
on the naive bread-and-butter miss, and succeeded gratifyingly soon in
winning her heart--to all appearance. But he gained nothing more, for
the coy creature abruptly developed most effective powers of resistance
to every blandishment that went beyond strictest propriety. His ardor
cooled suddenly when Harris filed the papers in a suit for ten thousand
dollars damages for breach of promise.
Even while this affair was still in the course of execution, Mary
found herself engaged in a direction that offered at least the hope
of attaining her great desire, revenge against Edward Gilder. This
opportunity came in the person of his son, Dick. After much contriving,
she secured an introduction to that young man. Forthwith, she showed
herself so deliciously womanly, so intelligent, so daintily feminine,
so singularly beautiful, that the young man was enamored almost at once.
The fact thrilled Mary to the depths of her heart, for in this son of
the man whom she hated she saw the instrument of vengeance for which
she had so longed. Yet, this one thing was so vital to her that she said
nothing of her purposes, not even to Aggie, though that observant person
may have possessed suspicions more or less near the truth.
It was some such suspicion that lay behind her speech as, in negligee,
she sat cross-legged on the bed, smoking a cigarette in a very knowing
way, while watching Mary, who was adjusting her hat before the mirror of
her dressing-table, one pleasant spring morning.
“Dollin' up a whole lot, ain't you?” Aggie remarked, affably, with that
laxity of language which characterized her natural moods.
“I have a very important engagement with Dick Gilder,” Mary replied,
tranquilly. She vouchsafed nothing more definite as to her intentions.
“Nice boy, ain't he?” Aggie ventured, insinuatingly.
“Oh, I suppose so,” came the indifferent answer from Mary, as she tilted
the picture hat to an angle a trifle more jaunty.
The pseudo cousin sniffed.
“You s'pose that, do you? Well, anyhow, he's here so much we ought to
be chargin' him for his meal-ticket. And yet I ain't sure that you even
know whether he's the real goods, or not.”
The fair face of Mary Turner hardened the least bit. There shone an
expression of inscrutable disdain in the violet eyes, as she turned to
regard Aggie with a level glance.
“I know that he's the son--the only son!--of Edward Gilder. The fact is
enough for me.”
The adventuress of the demure face shook her head in token of complete
bafflement. Her rosy lips pouted in petulant dissatisfaction.
“I don't get you, Mary,” she admitted, querulously. “You never used to
look at the men. The way you acted when you first run round with me,
I thought you sure was a suffragette. And then you met this young
Gilder--and--good-night, nurse!”
The hardness remained in Mary's face, as she continued to regard her
friend. But, now, there was something quizzical in the glance with which
she accompanied the monosyllable:
“Well?”
Again, Aggie shook her head in perplexity.
“His old man sends you up for a stretch for something you didn't do--and
you take up with his son like----”
“And yet you don't understand!” There was scorn for such gross stupidity
in the musical voice.
Aggie choked a little from the cigarette smoke, as she gave a gasp when
suspicion of the truth suddenly dawned on her slow intelligence.
“My Gawd!” Her voice came in a treble shriek of apprehension. “I'm
wise!”
“But you must understand this,” Mary went on, with an authoritative
note in her voice. “Whatever may be between young Gilder and me is to be
strictly my own affair. It has absolutely nothing to do with the rest of
you, or with our schemes for money-making. And, what is more, Agnes, I
don't want to talk about it. But----”
“Yes?” queried Aggie, encouragingly, as the other paused. She hopefully
awaited further confidences.
“But I do want to know,” Mary continued with some severity, “what
you meant by talking in the public street yesterday with a common
pickpocket.”
Aggie's childlike face changed swiftly its expression from a sly
eagerness to sullenness.
“You know perfectly well, Mary Turner,” she cried indignantly, “that
I only said a few words in passin' to my brother Jim. And he ain't no
common pickpocket. Hully Gee! He's the best dip in the business.”
“But you must not be seen speaking with him,” Mary directed, with a
certain air of command now become habitual to her among the members of
her clique. “My cousin, Miss Agnes Lynch, must be very careful as to her
associates.”
The volatile Agnes was restored to good humor by some subtle quality in
the utterance, and a family pride asserted itself.
“He just stopped me to say it's been the best year he ever had,” she
explained, with ostentatious vanity.
Mary appeared sceptical.
“How can that be,” she demanded, “when the dead line now is John
Street?”
“The dead line!” Aggie scoffed. A peal of laughter rang merrily from her
curving lips.
“Why, Jim takes lunch every day in the Wall Street Delmonico's. Yes,”
she went on with increasing animation, “and only yesterday he went down
to Police Headquarters, just for a little excitement, 'cause Jim does
sure hate a dull life. Say, he told me they've got a mat at the
door with 'Welcome' on it--in letters three feet high. Now,
what--do--you--think--of that!” Aggie teetered joyously, the while
she inhaled a shockingly large mouthful of smoke. “And, oh, yes!”
she continued happily, “Jim, he lifted a leather from a bull who was
standing in the hallway there at Headquarters! Jim sure does love
excitement.”
Mary lifted her dark eyebrows in half-amused inquiry.
“It's no use, Agnes,” she declared, though without entire sincerity; “I
can't quite keep up with your thieves' argot--your slang, you know. Just
what did this brother of yours do?”
“Why, he copped the copper's kale,” Aggie translated, glibly.
Mary threw out her hands in a gesture of dismay.
Thereupon, the adventuress instantly assumed a most ladylike and mincing
air which ill assorted with the cigarette that she held between her
lips.
“He gently removed a leathern wallet,” she said sedately, “containing
a large sum of money from the coat pocket of a member of the detective
force.” The elegance of utterance was inimitably done. But in the next
instant, the ordinary vulgarity of enunciation was in full play again.
“Oh, Gee!” she cried gaily. “He says Inspector Burke's got a gold watch
that weighs a ton, an' all set with diamon's!--which was give to 'im
by--admirin' friends!... We didn't contribute.”
“Given to him,” Mary corrected, with a tolerant smile.
Aggie sniffed once again.
“What difference does it make?” she demanded, scornfully. “He's got it,
ain't he?” And then she added with avaricious intensity: “Just as soon
as I get time, I'm goin' after that watch--believe me!”
Mary shook her head in denial.
“No, you are not,” she said, calmly. “You are under my orders now. And
as long as you are working with us, you will break no laws.”
“But I can't see----” Aggie began to argue with the petulance of a
spoiled child.
Mary's voice came with a certainty of conviction born of fact.
“When you were working alone,” she said gravely, did you have a home
like this?”
“No,” was the answer, spoken a little rebelliously.
“Or such clothes? Most of all, did you have safety from the police?”
“No,” Aggie admitted, somewhat more responsively. “But, just the same, I
can't see----”
Mary began putting on her gloves, and at the same time strove to give
this remarkable young woman some insight into her own point of view,
though she knew the task to be one well-nigh impossible.
“Agnes,” she said, didactically, “the richest men in this country have
made their fortunes, not because of the law, but in spite of the law.
They made up their minds what they wanted to do, and then they engaged
lawyers clever enough to show them how they could do it, and still keep
within the law. Any one with brains can get rich in this country if he
will engage the right lawyer. Well, I have the brains--and Harris is
showing me the law--the wonderful twisted law that was made for the
rich! Since we keep inside the law, we are safe.”
Aggie, without much apprehension of the exact situation, was moved to a
dimpled mirth over the essential humor of the method indicated.
“Gee, that's funny,” she cried happily. “You an' me an' Joe Garson
handin' it to 'em, an' the bulls can't touch us! Next thing you know,
Harris will be havin' us incorporated as the American Legal Crime
Society.”
“I shouldn't be in the least surprised,” Mary assented, as she finished
buttoning her gloves. She smiled, but there was a hint of grimness in
the bending of her lips. That grimness remained, as she glanced at
the clock, then went toward the door of the room, speaking over her
shoulder.
“And, now I must be off to a most important engagement with Mr. Dick
Gilder.”