AS TO ADVENTURESSES.
This should perhaps have been included under the head of the preceding
chapter, for if there are any pitfalls and perils more dangerous than
those laid by fair and unscrupulous members of the fairer sex we have
yet to be made aware of them. The adventuresses of Chicago, however,
deserve a brief and exclusive chapter, inasmuch as they constitute a
separate class which might, with very great propriety, be asked to go
about labeled with the initials D. F. (signifying “Dangerous Females”).
Even then, however, it is safe to say, they would not want for victims,
for there are some men who would run after a pretty woman if they
were morally certain that the pastime would lead to their everlasting
damnation.
[Illustration]
The term adventuress is applied to women of careless reputation who,
being much too smart to endure the ignominious career of professional
demi-mondaines, resort to various shrewd schemes to fleece the
unwary. Some of their class work in concert with male partners and in
such cases the selected victim generally becomes an easy prey. The
confidence man may be dangerous; the confidence woman, if she be well
educated and bright, as well as pretty, is irresistible except with the
most hardened and unsusceptible customers. The shrewdest old granger
of them all, who steers safely through the shoals and traps set for
him by male sharpers, will go down like the clover before the scythe
under a roguish glance, as it were, from a “white wench’s black eye,”
as Mercutio said.
There is no mortal man in this universe of ours, be he never so homely
or ill-favored, who does not cherish in his heart of hearts the
impression that there is a woman or two somewhere whom he could charm
if he wished to. It is the spirit of masculine vanity that forms the
material upon which the adventuress may work. With the art of an expert
she sizes up the dimensions of her victim’s vanity the instant she has
made his acquaintance, and plays upon it to just the extent she deems
expedient and profitable. If it were not for masculine vanity the
American adventuress could not exist.
Suppose, for instance, that Mr. John Smith, who is a merchant in
comfortable circumstances at home and quite a great man in his town,
is taking a stroll down State street in the bright afternoon sunshine.
He has just gotten outside of a good dinner at his hotel, prior to
which he had a good shave and a cocktail--just the combination to make
a well-to-do traveler with a little time on his hands feel literally
“out of sight,” as the slang phrase goes. Suppose then, as John
passes Marshall Field’s, he observes a magnificent creature, a royal
blonde, mayhap, or a plump brunette (either will do for the sake of
illustration) peeping shyly at him from beneath long silken lashes
and smiling ever so slightly. Now John may be a deacon in the church
at home; he may even be the father of a large family, but if he is
human, and animated by the latent vanity that is the paramount trait
of his sex, he will instantly experience a sensation of pleasure and
attribute the strange beauty’s attention to his own long-dormant power
to fascinate.
That splendid creature with her fine clothes, her exquisite complexion
and her graceful bearing, an adventuress? Impossible! At least so John
Smith thinks. She may even have a carriage at the curbstone into which
she steps daintily, with her eyes still slyly following the amorous
John. There is a delicate invitation in the glance, and if John is
courageous he will--pshaw! Let us hope he won’t, for it is a dead
certainty that the coy beauty is an adventuress of the deadliest and
most conscienceless sort. John, who in his confiding soul has set her
down as a duchess or a society queen at least, fondly imagines that it
is his person of which she is enamored. We, who are better posted, know
that it is his worldly wealth that she is after and that even as she
gives him an attack of palpitation of the heart by her warm glance she
is figuring on how she may most easily possess herself of that wealth.
The schemes of the city’s adventuresses are quite as numerous as those
of the confidence man, but blackmail is their great card and the one
that they play most successfully. As a rule a prosperous citizen of
good reputation and standing in his own town, who misconducts himself
when away from home, would rather pay any sum in reason than have his
friends at home know of that dereliction. That is where the skilled
adventuress makes her strong play. If she has the power to lure her
victim into a _liaison_ she has surely had the tact to draw from him
in the two or three days they have spent together all the particulars
she needs as to his relations in his own town. What a disheartening
shock it must be, must it not, to have this splendid creature, who has
vowed a thousand times to the doting John Smith that she loves him for
himself alone, strike him on the morning of his projected departure
for home for a cool thousand dollars in cash? Of course he demurs,
but when she pleasantly hints at the trip she intends to make to his
town and the exposure that must necessarily follow what is to be done?
Poor John Smith! He is not such a gay dog now. It gradually ends in a
compromise of some sort, for the lady is seldom too exacting, and if
John is inclined to be docile--to the extent of four or five hundred,
maybe--she will probably be very good-natured and let it go at that.
This is the highest type of adventuress--the aristocrat of her
profession. From her the types descend in grades, down to the very
lowest of all, the birds of the night who prowl the streets in search
of victims whom they may lure to the dens of their male accomplices,
there to be vulgarly drugged or “slugged” and robbed of their portable
valuables.
[Illustration]
The “indignant husband” game is a favorite one with adventuresses
of the second class, by which term is signified such fair and frail
creatures as occupy a somewhat lower place in the plane of rascaldom
than the fairy who relies solely upon discreet blackmail without
publicity for her means of support. This game is usually played upon
very green persons for the reason that very few others would fall
victims to it. The fair decoy makes the acquaintance of her quarry
on the street, at a matinee or elsewhere. For the first interview
she is on her good behavior, and by her repression of any approach
to familiarity that her newly acquired friend may make she creates
the impression that she is a very nice and decorous person indeed--a
little disposed to flirt, that is all. She does, however, write him
to call upon her and of course he does so--perhaps to-day, perhaps
to-morrow, but he calls, anyway. By letting fall certain artful hints
she contrives to let her victim know that she is a married woman. This
of course lends an added spice of interest to the adventure. The idea
of poaching on forbidden ground is attractive to the dupe. So an hour
passes in pleasant converse, and in the natural course of events the
Caller becomes sentimental. This much accomplished, he is hers, so
to speak. At the very moment that the poor victim is congratulating
himself upon his conquest there is a thundering knock at the door.
“My God!” screams the lady, with the dramatic intensity of a Bernhardt,
“My husband!”
The startled fly in her net squirms in his seat. Who would not,
situated as he is? “What is to be done?” he asks weakly.
“Hide! hide!” says the poor “wife” frenziedly and straightway rushes
him into a convenient closet. The “husband” enters and, singularly
enough, finds no difficulty in discovering the interloper’s
hiding-place. He is gruffly ordered to come out and as like as not
finds himself looking down the barrel of a big revolver.
Of course he is willing to make any sort of settlement in order to
escape with a whole skin. If he has no currency the “husband’s” wounded
“honor” will be healed with a check, although he would rather have his
watch, seeing that the payment of checks can be easily stopped at the
bank.
It must not be inferred from the foregoing that any peaceable gentleman
who walks the streets is liable to be dragged by the nape of his neck
into a compromising situation and compelled to disgorge all of his
portable wealth at the point of a pistol. Far from it. He who walks
the straight path of virtue is in no danger whatsoever. It is your
frisky gentleman, who is out for a little lark and is reckless in his
manner of carrying out the enterprise, who is likely to find himself
in a snare. “Be good and you will be happy” is a maxim (modernized)
that applies very handsomely to this sort of thing. “But you will miss
lots of fun!” the frisky man may respond. Well, well, even so, but be
very careful, for you know not how soon or how abruptly the languishing
angel at your side may change into a fiery harridan, determined to have
your money, your reputation or your life--whichever may suit her best.
Only a shade removed from the “indignant husband” game is the old
“panel” enterprise, which is so very vulgar and simple in the manner
of its operation that it would not be worthy of mention were it not for
the author’s desire to warn strangers of every grade of intelligence
against every possible danger that may lie in wait for him. Beware! O
sportive young gentleman in search of a little diversion, of the young
woman who on the shortest term of acquaintance invites you to accompany
her to her flat or her boudoir, as the case may be. It may be that she
has a pair of sharp scissors in her pocket with which she deftly snips
off your money pocket; but failing this device, the “panel” is brought
into play. While the interview between the more or less affectionate
lovers is in progress a panel in the wall slides back, pushed by
invisible hands, and a third person, the male confederate of the
damsel, slinks through it into the apartment. The amount of plunder he
secures depends entirely upon the degree of absorption with which the
quarry is wooing his charmer and the progress that he has made in her
affections, but however that may be he is tolerably certain to emerge a
heavy loser. If the presence of the third party is discovered (and it
is surprising how seldom this is the case) a fight is in order and the
victim is fortunate if he escapes with only the loss of his valuables
to mourn and no physical injury to lament.
It is a sorry subject and one is glad to leave it. Before doing so,
however, remember one thing, and remember it very distinctly: No young
lady, however irreproachable her appearance, who enters into a street
flirtation, can safely be regarded as other than dangerous. Act on this
suggestion and you will run no risks. In other words, “Be good and you
will be happy.” A repetition of the maxim will do no harm.