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THE ENEMY



UNiV. OF CALIF. LIBRARY. LOS ANGELES



By

GEORGE RANDOLPH CHESTER
& LILLIAN CHESTER

Authors of "The Ball of Fire," etc.



Illustrated by

A. B. Wenzel




NEW YORK

HEARST'S INTERNATIONAL LIBRARY CO.



Copyright, 1915, by
HEARST'S INTERNATIONAL LIBRARY Co., INC.



All rightt rtiervtj, including the translation into foreign
languagis, including tht Scandinavian.



CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I THE STREET OF THE DEAD .... i

II TOMMY TINKLE 13

III " IN THE SILENCE OF BLACK NIGHT " .25

IV ON THE WAY 34

V THE DISAPPEARANCE OF Bow-wow . 46

VI A FAMILY AFFAIR 50

VII IT Is NOT GOOD TO FORGET .... 68

VIII BILLY AND THE IMPS 77

IX CONSPIRACY . . 88

X FACE TO FACE 97

XI WALKING ABOUT THE SQUARE . .112

XII GERALDINE MAKES A RUN OF EIGHT 125

XIII SPRING! 135

XIV THE ENCHANTED PARLOR .... 152
XV A FAMILY Pow-wow 163

XVI A LITTLE GAIETY FOR TAVY . . .173

XVII TAVY Is TO BLAME 183

XVIII GERALDINE, THE COMFORTER . . .193

XIX TAVY TAKES A Music LESSON . . 203

XX A FRIENDLY CALL 216

XXI TOMMY TINKLE GOES A-PEDDLING . 231

XXII THE VISION 239

XXIII SIDE BY SIDE 247

XXIV WHEN ONE HAS A TAVY . . . .256
XXV THE GAYEST NIGHT OF TAVY'S LIFE . 266



2128884



CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

XXVI GERALDINE LISTENS 280

XXVII THE DAWN OF A NEW DAY . . .287

XXVIII HAPPINESS Is A SELFISH PLEASURE. . 296

XXIX HAM AND EGGS ! 306

XXX CALLERS FOR JOHN DOE . . . .314

XXXI HONOR UPON HONOR 324

XXXII IN THE SILENCE OF BLACK NIGHT . 334

XXXIII HARRISON STUART CONQUERS His

ENEMY 342

XXXIV THE ROYAL PRINCESS COMES HOME . 356



ILLUSTRATIONS

Billy couldn't keep his eyes off the girl at the win-
dow: John Doe's Tavy! . . . Frontispiece



FACING
PAGE



" Eleven-fifteen, Billy," Geraldine warned him as

he stepped out of the limousine 2

Suddenly John Doe stood up. "Billy!" in his
voice was anguish. " My wife ! My little
girl! I want them" 72

Geraldine came to the door at this inopportune mo-
ment H2

The careless Tommy Tinkle, watching Geraldine
with the practised eye of a color artist, noted a
fleeting change in her tint 126

" No ! " The tense strong voice is that of John Doe.

"I would rather see her dead!" . . . .150

" Guess I'm a little late," mumbles Billy. There is
a moan and a sob from Mrs. Stuart as she real-
izes the truth. Billy is drunk! 182

With a cry of rapture, they are clasped in each

other's arms 214



THE ENEMY



THE ENEMY

CHAPTER I

THE STREET OF THE DEAD

UNCANNY stillness; a long, low, dim
tunnel, uneasy with the shuffling specters
of the voiceless damned; a rush, a rum-
ble, a deafening clatter, a rumble and a dying
rush; uncanny stillness again; the Bowery!
Black, oily mire everywhere; even the snow, fine
and clean and white as it sifts through the gloomy
canopy of the elevated, turns to slime as it falls
on the reeking pavement. Time was when that
historic thoroughfare had pride in its lusty vice
and flaunted a sort of gaiety, but now, as it lies
gleaming under the long, confused perspective of
iron pillars, its viscid tar-like surface reflecting
the lights of the dingy shops, it is a street of the
living dead; and in all its shuffling phantoms
hunch-shouldered figures with pocketed hands and
glazed eyes and misshapen lips there is none



2 THE ENEMY

more lost to life than the man who stands against
a board fence, peering down into the excavation
for the Pannard Building, the ruddy glow from
that inferno-like pit touching with a fantastic
mockery of healthful color the waxen hue of his
face.

He is of no age, this man, and of no race, and
of no station, and of no name. His beard, which
might have been gray with washing, has been al-
lowed to grow as it would, and is meshed and
matted; his eyes are bleared and puffed; his brow
is broad and high and full, but hidden by an ab-
surdly shapeless hat, and the snow, melting from
its crown, has run down in muddy rivulets across
his face and into his beard, veining his sodden
countenance with angling streaks of brown. He
seems numbly fascinated, without apparently
knowing why, in the weird scene which spreads
below him.

The pit is huge and deep, its dimness shot by
clustered lights, amidst which dark figures toil like
imps in a far-off hell. There are voices from
below there, hollow voices but vibrant with life,
hoarse, sharp voices of command; and monster
derricks, like giants enslaved, in obedience to the
voices sweep their great arms from horizon to
horizon, picking up and setting down with a pre-



THE ENEMY 3

cision so marvelously human that understanding
must be in their sinews; and as they lift and drop
their tons, they groan!

Day after day, and night after night, the waxen
face has, at intervals, peered numbly over that
spot in the fence, for hours at a time, and there
have been occasions when the brow has knotted, as
if in an effort of concentration; but, for the most
part, the man has gazed in the stupor of drink.

Radiant life came into the street of the dead.
A big limousine, its great yellow eyes gliding for-
ward as a symbol of its right and its might and
its imperial will, stopped at the curb just opposite
the waxen-faced watcher. The dome light flashed
up within, revealing, amid the exquisitely grained
woodwork and the luxurious corded gray uphol-
stering, a jolly looking elderly man, a placid look-
ing elderly lady, a tall, pleasant looking young
man in a beaver hat, and a young lady, bewilder-
ingly swathed in soft white furs, her richly tinted
smiling face framed in a wealth of rippling light
brown hair tinged with gold. Her brown eyes
sparkled for a moment as she turned them on the
tall young man.

" Eleven-fifteen, Billy," she warned him, as he
stepped out of the limousine. " Not a minute
later."



4 THE ENEMY

" I'll be there right after the cocktails," laughed
Billy, hat in hand.

" How frank." The smiling retort seemed to
please her father very much, and he chuckled.

" If you want Billy to be late, Geraldine, just
keep on holding his hand." Three-B Benning was
even more pleased with his own humor, for, as
his shoulders shook, his face reddened and his
puffy mustache rounded.

"Father!" protested Mrs. Benning in a tone
so placid that it held no possibility of emotion of
any sort.

Geraldine only laughed, though her face flushed
slightly, as Billy hastily released her hand.

" I'll have to do some fiddling before I can
dance," and the young man cast a quick glance
toward the groaning giants of the pit. " Eleven-
fifteen." He closed the door of the limousine,
he gave each of the occupants a separate bow and
a cheerful grin.

The dome light was extinguished, the limou-
sine rolled away, and with its going all the light
and life and warmth seemed to have disappeared
from the world! The waxen-faced onlooker shiv-
ered.

A stockily built man came up out of Hades,
by means of staged ladders, and appeared over



THE ENEMY 5

the top of the fence. He wore a heavy cap pulled
down over his ears, and his mustache was drip-
ping.

"Still sliding, Joe?" anxiously inquired Billy
Lane.

"Nearly a quarter of an inch!" gravely re-
ported the man from the pit.

The waxen-faced one did not hear. He was
shivering so that his shoulders drew together and
his teeth chattered, and a tremor seemed to run
down his whole bowed body to his gaping shoes.
Intelligence followed that awakening of his senses.
The man knew exactly what to do. He turned
and shuffled, trembling, down the street toward
the Chicago Buffet, more popularly known as
Mike Dowd's Sink. He walked with his head
bent and his eyes to the ground. Once he stooped
and picked up a water-soaked cigar butt, which
he slipped in his bulging right-hand pocket, and
a little farther on he found an iron nut. Left-
hand pocket. These things, and bones and rags
and empty bottles and the like, could be sold when
there were enough of them.

The dingy Sink, with its frowsy habitues, was
like a scene from Dante; but Mike Dowd was
strictly material. He was a big, large-necked
man, with a yellow mustache and a face as expres-



6 THE ENEMY

sionless as a stone post. He nodded gruffly as
" the regular " drew up to the bar, but he made
no other movement until a nickel was laid down
with a quivering hand; then he deftly filled a
small glass, brimful, from a worn looking bottle.
The man drew a deep breath and reached for the
drink, but time after time he withdrew his shaking
hand, lest he should spill one drop of that life-
giving liquid!

The well-dressed young man in the beaver hat,
and the stocky man from the pit, with the heavy
cap still pulled down over his ears, came briskly
in, so intent that they scarcely noticed the total
depravity of Mike Dowd's Sink, low and ill-
smelling, and peopled with living carrion.

"Have you any good whisky?" dubiously
asked the younger man, as he inspected the rick-
ety back-bar, with its narrow cracked mirror and
its scant assortment of bottles.

" Leave it to you," rumbled Mike Dowd, reach-
ing under the stickily painted counter for a copper
measure. " I got some at two bits a throw."

" Shoot it," accepted the young man in Mike's
language, and with a smile which disclosed a set
of even white teeth. He radiated so much good-
fellowship that even the stone post gave him a
half glance of approval, as he strode heavily to



THE ENEMY 7

the row of black barrels across the rear end of
the room.

" We're up against it, Billy," said the stockily
built man, wiping his dripping mustache, and there
was a look of deep concern on his face. ' That
foundation is solid rock. It can't slide, and yet
it does."

Billy Lane unconsciously studied the geometri-
cal relation of four dents in the bar. He was
troubled.

" I might as well go out of business if the big
Pannard Building should loaf down toward the
river one night." He moved forward as he felt
an elbow touch his from behind. " Better stop
the work until I investigate, Joe."

" Nothing else to do," worried the superin-
tendent. " I wish Harrison Stuart were alive.
He knew the geological formation underlying New
York as if he had made it."

"If Harrison Stuart could stop that sliding, I
can," declared Lane, laying a good fist on the edge
of the bar. " First of all, however," and a laugh
betrayed his perplexity, " I have to find out what
causes it. The surveys show that site to be as
solid as the universe itself."

" Survey's wrong! " husked a voice.

Startled, both men turned to find the waxen-



8 THE ENEMY

faced refuse peering up at them with strained
brows. The man was soddenly drunk, but he was
fairly trembling with his effort at concentration,
and his bleared eyes were steady for the first time
in weeks. He had drunk his whisky, and was
holding the glass with a grip which would have
crushed it had he been stronger.

" Beg pardon? " said Billy, in surprise.

" Shale up-cropping," went on the man, holding
tightly to thought by his grip on the edge of the
bar, and sliding slowly towards the young man
in his earnestness. " Substratum runs down
there like a trough. You're on the point."
His brows began to relax, his eyes to dull, his voice
to weaken. " Cut it off." His voice died away
in a mumbling whisper. He leaned heavily
against the bar. His head drooped.

If a genie had popped out of a bottle to solve
their dilemma, they could have been no more
amazed! That this distorted shell contained
fragments of a cultivated intelligence was beyond
comprehension! Looking at him, as he stood
there relapsed into dullness, with his grimy hands
and his matted beard and his dirt-streaked face,
they could scarcely believe that it was he who had
spoken !



THE ENEMY 9

" Well, what do you think of that ! " gasped
the superintendent.

" It's probably the answer," decided Billy, his
mind delving below the Pannard excavation, and
constructing a diagram of the tilted substratum.
He bent eagerly over the bleared stranger. " Do
you know the extent of this shale up-cropping? "
he asked.

The frowsy one lifted his head, but the gleam
of intelligence had gone from his eye.

" A little whisky," he mumbled, with a form-
less smile.

Mike Dowd had returned with the copper meas-
ure, and with great vigor was washing and bur-
nishing two glasses.

" Give him a drink," suggested the superin-
tendent.

" This good whisky'll kill him," grinned Mike,
his yellow mustache lifting. " Hey, Bow-Wow !
Have a drink? Of course you will!" and he
poured it out and set it in Bow-Wow's hand.

The bent head raised quickly and the drooped
shoulders straightened a trifle.

' Thank you," and, in a trembling hand,
the glass was held up and out, with an absurd at-
tempt at formality. Mike laughed, but Billy



io THE ENEMY

Lane turned on Bow-Wow that warm smile which
had lined his path through life with friends.

" The same to you, sir," he replied with grave
courtesy, and drank with the man. A look of
gratification brightened the young architect's face
as he tasted the liquor. " That's great stuff," he
complimented Mike Dowd. " Can you stand an-
other one, Joe? "

" One at a time for me," refused the super-
intendent, with a speculative, sidelong glance at
his companion.

" I'm not too proud to drink by myself,"
laughed that young man gaily, and poured his
diminutive glass two-thirds full. " It's a shame
to let a good drink of whisky be lonesome."

" Whisky! " suddenly shouted Bow-Wow, with
a sharp intake of his breath.

Billy Lane and his superintendent turned at
the vehemence of the tone. The man's fists were
clenched and his eyes were glistening. The hu-
man carrion on the benches grinned stupidly.

" It's the curse of the world ! " went on the dere-
lict, his voice rising shrilly. " There is no hell
but whisky ! Drink ! It's the enemy of man and
God! It burns the body and it sears the brain!
It"

" Can that ! " interrupted big Mike, and reach-



THE ENEMY n

ing across he gave a sharp jerk at the man's beard,
by way of emphasis.

The orator instantly subsided. He set down
his empty glass and shuffled across to a bench,
where he huddled, mumbling unintelligibly and
plucking nervously at his beard.

" I told you that two-bit whisky'd kill him,"
grinned big Mike.

"Who is he?" asked Billy.

" A bum," and the blond mustache came up.
" He hands us that spiel every time he gets one
drink past the corner."

"Where does he live?"

" Here."

Billy inspected Mike Dowd's Sink with a shud-
der. It was a narrow room, its rough board walls
and ceiling painted a ghastly blue. It was lighted
with small yellow bulbs, half obscured by clouds
of stinking smoke. Along each wall were decrepit
benches, and on these sat, puffing at their pipes,
soiled and rumpled creatures, who, after an apa-
thetic glance at the newcomers, had descended
again into motionless, hopeless, lifeless silence.
There was sawdust on the floor, which, by the
tracking in of the slush, had been mixed into a
mottled pasty mire.

"Where does he sleep?"



12 THE ENEMY

" In the alley. He crawls into an old coal box
out there that's shaped like a kennel. That's why
we call him Bow-Wow. He sweeps out in the
morning, for a drink, and he's the only bum I
ever had that don't steal."

The young man paid for his drinks, and but-
toned his coat.

" I'm going to take him home and sober him
up," he announced to the superintendent. " He
knows all about the rock under the Pannard Build-
ing," and Billy walked across to Bow-Wow.
Lord, what a debasing name ! " Come on," and
he touched the fellow on the shoulder.

" Eh? " The nodding head raised slowly.

"Come on!"

Bow-Wow half rose.

"Where?"

"Home!"

There was a rumble in Bow-Wow's throat, a
rumble which began in a laugh and ended in a
cough.

" A little whisky," he said.



CHAPTER II

TOMMY TINKLE

A BIG lounging-room, with rich hangings
and soft leather chairs and couches; a
huge log blazing in the fireplace, and
casting its ruddy glow in fitful flares upon the well
chosen pictures, upon the odds and ends of art
from every quarter of the globe, and upon the
glistening evening attire of Tommy Tinkle, who,
with a highball at his elbow and a cigarette be-
tween his fingers, is sitting contentedly by Billy
Lane's fireplace, in Billy Lane's favorite chair.

The lock clicked, the door opened, and Tommy
turned lazily to greet his friend, but, instead of
Billy Lane, there shuffled into this harmony, Bow-
Wow! He stood blinking stupidly at the fire.

Billy followed briskly a second later. He
closed the door, and leaned the swaying Bow-
Wow against it; then he peeled off his gloves,
threw them into a waste basket, and drew a long,
deep breath.

' You're quite a collector," Tommy grinned
13



i 4 THE ENEMY

with appreciation. " Where did you get it, and
what corner's it for? "

" Haven't decided," speculated the connoisseur,
studying his prize with considerable wonder at
himself. "Where's Burke?"

" Chipping highball ice," and long-legged
Tommy obligingly rang.

For a moment there was silence, broken only
by the stupor-like breathing of Bow-Wow, while
the two young men studied the new guest with
awe.

"Genuine antique or imitation?" finally in-
quired Tommy, but the laziness in his tone was
now only superficial, for the fingers with which he
clutched pencil and paper from the table were both
agile and deft.

He was sketching Bow-Wow with great enjoy-
ment when Burke came in, a pleasant-faced Irish-
man with three scars: one from the Boer War,
one from a fight in China and one a memento of
his sole attempt at domestication.

" A guest of mine, Burke," explained Billy, with
solemn gravity; " Mr. John Doe."

" Yes, sir." Burke was equally grave, but
there was a twinkle at the corners of his Killarney
eyes as he surveyed John Doe. " The blue room,
sir? "



THE ENEMY 15

Tommy Tinkle's ever-ready grin widened, as
he observed the perplexity which this counter
thrust cast upon Burke's master. What was to be
done with the fellow, after all !

" The fire escape, I think," the host suggested
in desperation. " However, Burke, he's up to
you," and it was Billy's turn to grin, as he saw gen-
uine worry flash into Burke's brow. " You will
scrub my guest, feed him, and hold him here until
my return."

" Yes, sir," assented the Irishman gloomily.
" I suppose you prefer him sober."

Bow-Wow, having lurched dangerously along
the door, once or twice, now aroused sufficiently
to take part in the conversation.

" A little whisky ! " he husked, and lurched
again.

Burke gave an entirely perfunctory glance
around the room. There was no place here to
seat Mr. John Doe; no place in the kitchen; no
place in any room.

" Excuse me, please." He hurried out, and
came back wearing a pair of gloves. He took
Billy's new guest by the arm and led him into the
servants' bathroom, in which he had placed a coal
pail.

" A little whisky ! " husked Bow-Wow.



1 6 THE ENEMY

" Take off your clothes and throw them in
this pail, shoes and all; then climb into the tub,
and you'll get your whisky," directed Burke, and
turned on the water. Billy was in his dressing-
room, throwing things, when Burke returned.

Half an hour later, Billy and Tommy Tinkle
were in the gaudiest of the private dining-rooms
in one of New York's most superb up-town pal-
aces of food; and they had minutes to spare.

" You need a drink, my boy," advised Tommy,
as, properly slim in their swallow-tails, they en-
tered the door and found themselves in company
with no one but waiters, whom it was a distress to
see idle. " Bow- Wow has had an entirely too
sobering influence on you. Are you in any condi-
tion to join a gay and festive supper dance? No !
Then, get pickled, Billy; get pickled ! " and he mo-
tioned the solemn headwaiter to him.

" I don't have to be gay until the fun comes,"
retorted Billy, attempting to reach Tommy's
height of glorious flippancy; but his somberness
would not shake off. He was studying the fa-
miliar ornateness of the big empty room, as if,
all at once, its luxury were strange to him, and his
gaze strayed from the big chandelier, with its
thousand iridescences, to the elaborately paneled



THE ENEMY 17

Louis Quinze walls. " Tremendous contrast be-
tween this and the Bowery."

" Wow ! " said Tommy. " It's a lucky thing
for you that I have ten minutes before the mob
arrives." He turned to the headwaiter. " Six
cocktails," he ordered. He turned briskly back to
his friend. " You will get one drink every three
and a third minutes," he explained, watch in hand.

" Sensible idea," laughed Billy, and they fol-
lowed the headwaiter to the sideboard.

Young Lane, both his engineering and his psy-
chological problems forgotten, was light of mood
and sparkling of eye when the Benning party came
chattering into the room.

There were twenty of them, mostly youthful
and fresh-cheeked and care free; and the spirit
of frivolity took possession of the place. It was
as if a cyclone of merriment had suddenly burst
into the prim stiffness of that gold and rose hall.
There were laughing voices, flashing eyes, the
gleam of pearly teeth, the curving of bewitching
lips, the glitter of jewels, the rustle of filmy gowns,
and all the gay bustle and confusion of such parties
as jolly old B. B. Benning loved to give.

An orchestra, half screened by palms, struck
into a lively march, and Billy found the tall and



1 8 THE ENEMY

graceful Miriam Hasselton beside him as the
throng made its way to the table. Clever girl,
Miriam, full of general appeal, and serenely con-
scious of it. A little light repartee between them,
vague half-meanings which might or might not
be turned into a laugh or a flirtation, but light as
froth in its analysis.

Geraldine Benning slipped between pompous
Joseph Gandish and Jack Greeves, to get at Billy.
Miriam Hasselton was considered to be an ac-
quired taste, like olives; but some people became
very fond of olives. Tommy arrived at Miriam's
side just as Geraldine reached them; so Geraldine
swept both the boys away. They, at least, should
not be Miriamized ! She turned Tommy over to
the dimpled little Parsons girl. Dolly Parsons
could be trusted.

Geraldine snuggled her hand in Billy's arm.
She was unusually pretty to-night, in her shimmer-
ing gown of silver tissue touched with green, and
with her new tiara of diamonds and emeralds in
her golden brown hair. As young Lane drew her
hand in place, he patted it. She turned swiftly
up to him, and her eyes were glowing. He drew
her arm closer within his own. They were very
fond of each other, these two; they had always



THE ENEMY 19

been. He bent down and whispered something
to her, and a little ripple of laughter followed,
then Geraldine flushed prettily.

" Here are our places ! " she exclaimed, examin-
ing the cards on the table. " Here's mine, and
there's yours, and next to you is pretty Leila
Langster. You're in luck! "

" Indeed I am," and he helped her into her
chair with exaggerated gallantry.

" Why, there's Billy Lane ! " suddenly called
Tommy Tinkle, taking his seat on the opposite
side of the table, between the dimpled Parsons
girl and the vivacious Mrs. Greeves. " Ladies
and gentlemen, Billy has a Bow-Wow ! "

" Billy's always doing something interesting,"
drawled Miriam Hasselton, bending past her thick
partner to look at the young man, who was quite
pink and jovial this evening. " What kind of a
bow-wow has Billy? "

"A booze Bow- Wow!" returned Tommy
solemnly. " Here's to him, old friend."

" You didn't tell me you had a new dog," pro-
tested Geraldine.

' Tommy Tinkle has given way to an over-
strained sense of humor," explained Billy, with a
cheerful grin at the young man in question, who



20 THE ENEMY

was making a rapid sketch on his napkin. " I
happened to find a poor devil down in the Bowery
whose only name in Mike Dowd's Sink, beg every-
body's pardon, is Bow-Wow." His eyes, which
had been shining, began to grow thoughtful.

" Feed him his cocktail quick, Geraldine ! "
called Tommy as one in a panic. " He's growing
morbid again. Friends and fellow citizens, be-
hold Bow-Wow ! " and he displayed his napkin,
on which he had sketched a caricature of John
Doe.

Everybody laughed, with the exception of
sharp-featured Mrs. Gandish, who objected on
general principles to the introduction of such a
thought into so select a company. Mrs. Gandish
herself had not been long in this company.

" Begins to sound like a story," suggested Host
Benning, beaming across with great satisfaction,
and lifting his glass.

" Not much of a one. The foundation for the
Pannard Building is rather unstable, and this fel-


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