The Face and the Mask, Robert Barr [best color ereader TXT] 📗

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. There was another deal and so on, but the stranger found it impossible to understand or follow the game. He saw money being raked in and paid out rapidly and over the whole affair was a solemn decorum that he had not been prepared for. He had expected fierce oaths and the drawing of revolvers.

“Here, Mellish,” said the innocent Hammerly, “let me introduce you to the new local editor of the Argus. I didn’t catch your name,” he said in a whisper.

“My name’s McCrasky.”

“Mr. McCrasky; Mr. Mellish. Mellish is proprietor here and you’ll find him a first-rate fellow.”

“I am pleased to meet you,” said Mellish quietly; “any friend of Hammerly’s is welcome. Make yourself at home.”

Edging away from the two, Mellish said in a quick whisper to Sotty, the bartender: “Go and tell the doorkeeper to warn Thompson, or any of the rest of the Argus boys, that their boss is in here.”

At 12 o’clock that night the local editor sat in his room. “Is that you, Thompson?” he shouted, as he heard a step.

“Yes, sir;” answered Thompson, coming into the presence.

“Shut the door, Thompson. Now I have a big thing on for to-night, but it must be done quietly. I’ve unearthed a gambling den in full blast. It will be raided to-night at 2 o’clock. I want you to be on the ground with Murren; will you need anybody else?”

“Depends on how much you wish to make of it.”

“I want to make it the feature of to-morrow’s paper. I think we three can manage, but bring some of the rest if you like. The place is run by a man named Mellish. Now, if you boys kept your eyes open you would know more of what is going on in your own city than you do.”