The Apple of Discord

"I had not looked at her in that light."

"A defect of your western training, Mr. Hampden. She belongs to one of our tongs–or to the leading men of that tong, which amounts to the same thing. Another tong has been most anxious to secure her, and has offered as high as three thousand dollars for her possession. It was refused and four thousand demanded. I interfered so far as to order that the girl should be reserved until some man offered to make her his wife. She is pretty–very pretty, to our notions–and I have interested myself so much in her welfare as to think that she would grace a home. I suppose I do not need to tell you that the leaders of the two tongs have no such destiny in view for her."

"Well, no, if rumor does them no injustice," I assented.

"It was promised that I should be obeyed. I have been obeyed for many months. Yet just at this moment, when it is of the utmost importance that we should be a peaceful, united body, these dogs of the gutter start a war between the tongs."

"You have shown your power to end it," I said.

"You are too flattering, I fear," said the King of Chinatown. "Fire in flax, you say. It is so much easier to keep fire out of flax than to stamp it out after it starts. It is in my power to punish these men, but I fear that it is beyond my power to smother their enmity. In the code of the tongs blood or blood-money must pay for this." He mused for a little and seemed to be speaking to himself as much as to me. "That this should happen at such a time, when everything depends on our self-control! It is shameful–shameful–a reproach to our race."

"At such a time? I do not understand you," I ventured. The hint in his words was too plain to miss.

He looked at me sharply.

"You do not know what is going on in your own city, Mr. Hampden," he said politely.

"I confess to a lack of information on the point you mention."

"It will be brought to your attention later," said Big Sam dryly. "But I am detaining you with matters of no interest. You wished a translation of these papers?"

His face was bland and impassive, yet I had the impression that he felt he had said too much.

"It has been deeply interesting," I said. "But I am imposing on your good nature." It was of no use to seek to learn from Big Sam anything that he thought fit to conceal, and I placed the slips before him.

He read them off gravely. One was a polite note of invitation to dinner. The other a memorandum of goods bought, or to be bought.

I thanked him and raged inwardly that I should have been outwitted.

Big Sam smiled blandly. "It is nothing in the way of treason, whichever paper you may choose."

"Quite innocent," I said, looking in his half veiled eyes. I read that he was under no delusion that he had deceived me. I rose to go.

"One moment, Mr. Hampden," he said. "You have asked a trifling favor of me. May I ask a much greater one of you?"

"Certainly."

"This girl–I am perplexed to know what to do with her."

"Is there a more proper custodian than her father?"

"Father?"

"The old man–you know."

Big Sam laughed–a most unpleasant laugh, too.

"Quite as near a relation as yourself, Mr. Hampden. He is merely the custodian for his tong."

"Then his pitiful tale to the police–"

"Oh, we do not want for the inventive faculty."

"Then what better guardian could you suggest than yourself," I said, "or what better place than in your own home–or one of your homes?" Big Sam was reported to have one white wife and two Chinese wives, and it seemed to me that he might provide for her safety with one of the three, in case he did not wish to add to his matrimonial blessings.

"I have thought of that, but there are difficulties," he said, as a man considering. "I shall excite less enmity if I can provide for her safety in another way."

"The Mission–" I suggested.

"I should have both tongs at my throat at once," he laughed. "She must be where she can be returned at my will. And it is best that she should be with some good white woman."

"I'm afraid that the good white woman you have in mind would not care to take her in charge on those terms," I said.

Big Sam looked at the girl thoughtfully.

"Well, then, I must let my benevolent plans for her welfare go. It is a pity, too. I do not often indulge in such a luxury. But there are more important matters at stake than the life of a girl."

I looked at the girl and remembered a painted face that had grinned at me from behind a wicket a little while before. At the thought of what it meant to her, I took a sudden resolve.

"If I can be of service, I shall be happy."

"I don't think you will regret it," said Big Sam. "Can you arrange it by this evening?"

"I can not promise. The conditions make a difficulty."

"True. But they are imperative. I must trust to your honor to carry them out. But I hope that you will remember that I stake my life on it."

I looked my surprise.

"It is quite true," he said simply. "My people are not troubled with scruples in the matter, and I must be security that the girl will be returned when the conditions I make are complied with."

"And these are–"

"That a worthy man of her race wishes to make her his wife, and is willing to settle the claims of the two tongs."

"The two tongs?"

"Yes. He must pay the price demanded by the one, and the–the–"

"Blackmail," I suggested, as Big Sam hesitated for a word.

"Well, yes–not a pleasant word, I believe, but accurate–the blackmail demanded by the other."

"I will do my best to find a guardian who will meet your conditions."

"Can you make it convenient to bring your word this evening?"

"That is short notice."

"It is important. I shall be here from nine to twelve."

"I shall do my best."

"I shall be deeply in your debt," he said.

I looked at him closely.

"You can cancel it readily."

"I shall be most happy. How?"

I hesitated a moment and rose.

"By telling me what is the business of your communications with Mr. Peter Bolton."

We had come to such confidential terms on the matter of the maiden that Big Sam allowed himself to be surprised. His discomposure flashed in his eyes for but an instant, and was gone.

"I do not understand you," he said politely, rising in his turn.

"The memorandum that I brought might remind you," I said dryly.

I could see that I had risen a notch in Big Sam's estimation; and he was uncertain how much more I knew than was on the surface.

"You have the advantage of me," he said. "I furnished Mr. Bolton a thousand men three months ago, but we have had no transactions since. I wish you good morning. I shall expect you to-night between nine o'clock and midnight."

And he bowed me out.

CHAPTER V

MISS KENDRICK'S PLEASURE

"I suppose it's my uncle you want to see, so I'll be going," said Miss Kendrick in her piquant voice. She had been reading as I was ushered into the library, and now stood, book in hand, in a graceful attitude of meditated flight.

"If you please," I said, "it's not your uncle I want to see. I want to ask a favor of you."

"A favor? Of me? Well, I hope it has nothing to do with the Bellinger ball, for I'm trying to invent an excuse for not going." And Miss Kendrick tilted her nose and looked defiantly at me.

"I had no idea such an atrocity was in contemplation," I said. "What I want is some advice."

"Oh, how delightful!" cried Miss Kendrick, sinking into her chair and motioning me to a seat. "I always did dearly love to give advice. It's such fun, for nobody ever follows it, and I can always tell them how much better things would have turned out if they had. But I never had anybody come and ask for it before." There was a sarcastic note in her piquant voice that made me wonder, after all, whether I liked it.

"Now you are making sport of me," I said.

"Not at all. I am quite serious, and shall listen with all my ears. Who is she, and what is the difficulty?"

"Cherchez la femme--I see you have learned your proverbs. She's a little heathen and I forgot to ask her name, and–"

"You're a heathen yourself, then. Why don't you tell your story straight?"

"You interrupted me. She's a Chinese girl–"

"Oh," cried Miss Kendrick, "I don't want to criticize, but if she isn't prettier than the ones I've seen, it's due my conscience to tell you that I don't admire your taste. And you might at least have inquired her name."

"Good heavens!" I gasped. "It's not a love affair."

"How disappointing!" she sighed, with an affectation of addressing the bust of Homer that frowned from the top of the bookcase. "I thought he was going to be interesting. Well, if it isn't a love affair, I don't see what you want my advice for; but if you'll have the goodness to explain the matter, I'll do my best for you."

Thereupon I told her the story of my morning's adventure, or so much as concerned the Chinese maiden, and set forth the wish of Big Sam to have the girl in the hands of a white woman who would surrender her on demand.

"Now, I've gone to three ladies I thought might be willing to undertake the charge," I concluded, "but they would hear nothing of it unless she was to be converted and stay with the whites, or with Christian Chinese. That is out of the question. I'm at the end of my list, and I'm looking for another; so I've come to you."

Miss Kendrick listened with absorbed interest. Whatever of raillery or affectation there had been in her manner was gone.

"I'm not wise about such matters," she said soberly, "but I think you have done what you ought. I've heard of this dreadful slavery from the girls who teach at the Mission, but I can hardly believe it. I'm sure we must do what we can to save this girl." She was silent for a little, and then went on. "I'm afraid my list is the Mission list. And you're quite certain the Mission list won't do?"

"Quite certain."

She counted her small fingers with an inaudible moving of the lips, and I watched her with the pleasure that one takes in watching a pretty child. She was so small it seemed impossible that she was seriously considering one of the serious problems of life. She gave a little sigh as the last finger was reached.

"I'm afraid I don't know her," she said regretfully. "All my ladies are very religious ladies, and I don't think they would approve your bargain at all. I'm not sure, on mature consideration, that I approve it myself."

"It is that or nothing."

"Isn't there a law, or a habeas corpus writ, or a policeman, or something?" said Miss Kendrick anxiously.

"I'm afraid," said I, smiling grimly at the recollection of Big Sam and his power, "that the law doesn't afford us much encouragement. We should never find her if we tried that policy."

"Well, I suppose you know best about that. So I don't see anything to do but to take her in here."

"Why, Miss Kendrick!" I exclaimed. "I didn't think of such a thing as that. What would your uncle say?"

"Uncle might be a little explosive," admitted Miss Kendrick with a smile, "but it's just possible that he could be managed."

I was perplexed to know what to do. I could see vague, unformed reasons against accepting her offer, yet it might prove that there was no other resource, if I was not to abandon the Chinese girl to her fate. I was turning over in my mind what to say when a servant appeared and announced:

"Mr. Baldwin to see you, Miss."

Miss Kendrick blushed very prettily at the name, and I felt a sudden dislike of any man who should be so far in her favor that his name should call the color to her face.

"Here's the man who can help us," she said. "He's sure to know somebody who will do."

This confidence in Mr. Baldwin gave me a most unpleasant shock, nor were my unchristian feelings softened by the air of confidential proprietorship with which Mr. Baldwin took Miss Kendrick's hand and replied to Miss Kendrick's greeting.

Mr. Baldwin proved to be a tall, big-faced young man, with a black mustache and a pair of snapping black eyes. He accepted an introduction with such frigid politeness that it was only an access of internal resentment that prevented me from being frozen.

"I believe we have not met," he said coldly.

"I believe not," I replied cheerfully, "though I saw you in the last trial of Merwin against Bolton."

He bowed in a superior way at the compliment of the recollection, though as junior member of the firm of Hunter, Fessenden and Baldwin he had played in court what the actors know as a "thinking part" as the guardian of a stack of law books from which his more celebrated partners drew their inspiration.

"For the defense," admitted Mr. Baldwin. "A very interesting case."

"Oh, don't get him started on that, Mr. Hampden," said Miss Kendrick. "I've lectured him on the wickedness of being in the hire of that awful Peter Bolton, but he's quite incorrigible. I've something much more important to talk to him about."

"I am all ears," said Mr. Baldwin, unbending graciously. It was marvelous to note the difference in his manner of addressing us.

"Not so bad as that!" said Miss Kendrick. "Well, it's a case of knight-errantry that Mr. Hampden has engaged in, and your help is needed."

"Oh," said Mr. Baldwin, "my services are tendered only to beauty in distress."

"That's exactly the case," said Miss Kendrick. "It isn't Mr. Hampden who is to be rescued. It's a lady fair. She's locked up in the ogre's castle and I want her taken out."

"Very good," said Mr. Baldwin. "Would any particular time suit you? It lacks three hours yet of midnight."

"Oh, it must be done right away," said Miss Kendrick.

"Well," I said, "Mr. Baldwin should be enlightened as to the chief difficulty. There's no trouble in getting the lady in the case. The principal thing is to know what to do with her after she's rescued." I began to hope that Mr. Baldwin might know of some proper custodian for the Chinese girl.

"Why, Mr. Hampden is to marry her out of hand, I suppose," said he. "That's the way it used to run in the old story-books."

"Thank you, no," I laughed. "I resign my claim to Mr. Baldwin in advance."

"I don't think it would do," said Miss Kendrick, shaking her head sagely. "Besides, there are other conditions to be fulfilled. But I truly want your counsel, Mr. Baldwin."

"At your service. Let me hear the case."

Thereupon Miss Kendrick stated the problem of the Chinese girl.

"Now," she continued, "unless you can suggest some better way, I want her brought here."

"Well, my advice, since you have asked it, is to have nothing to do with the affair," said Mr. Baldwin.

"Oh, that wasn't the part I wanted to ask you about," said Miss Kendrick composedly. "I want to find if you know anybody better fitted than I am to take charge of her under the conditions–some older person, you know, for I'm not so venerable as I'm afraid I shall be some day."

Mr. Baldwin appeared to be no better pleased than I with the idea of having Miss Kendrick take charge of the girl.

"These are not the sort of people you should have to do with," he began, when she stopped him.

"Were you going to say that you knew of somebody who can do it better than I? Because if you weren't, the sooner you and Mr. Hampden start on your expedition the sooner you'll be coming back."

I was not so sure that I cared for the company of Mr. Baldwin in my visit to Big Sam, but I could see no way to decline it.

"I think," said Mr. Baldwin with sudden brightening, "that we want Mercy Fillmore. She isn't so old a person as you might like, Miss Kendrick, but she has taken to charity work and is used to dealing with this sort of people. Except for her liking for that kind of work, she's a reasonable creature and doesn't make conversion to a church the sole object of her life. I don't see why she has gone in for it, but as she has decided to waste her life in that way she might as well waste it on this young person as on any other."

"I remember her," said Miss Kendrick, nodding her shapely head. "She was one of the 'big girls' when I started to school. She was very good to us youngsters and I believe the other big girls used to call her 'a little queer.' I used to think her quite grown up, for she was fifteen when I was ten. But I dare say she wouldn't seem so venerable now. I'm sure she would be just the one–if she'll do it."

"I can answer for her, I think," said Mr. Baldwin.

"Well, you can't see her to-night," said Miss Kendrick, "so you had better go with Mr. Hampden and bring the girl here. Then you can arrange with Miss Fillmore to-morrow."

Mr. Baldwin looked appealingly at me.

"Why wouldn't it be better," I said, "to leave the girl where she is till to-morrow? I shall tell Big Sam what we have decided and he can keep her safe."

Mr. Baldwin nodded approval.

"I see," said Miss Kendrick, "that you have oceans of confidence in Big Sam and those murderous highbinders. But I'm not a man, and I haven't. I don't know what will happen before morning. Now, if you'll put on your hats and coats and go, you'll relieve my mind."

I rose reluctantly.

"If you don't like to go alone," said Miss Kendrick, with a saucy shake of the head and a very determined look about the mouth, "I'll ask you to be my escort."

"But, I was about to ask–what will your uncle say?"

"Say?" cried the hearty voice of Wharton Kendrick, as his big frame filled the doorway and his ruddy face shone in the light. "Why, shovels and scissors, gentlemen, he would say just what she told him to. What's it about?"

Miss Kendrick had risen, and with an emphatic nod of the head at this indorsement of a blank check in her favor, looked at us steadily.

"In that case, we'd best be going," said Mr. Baldwin. "Miss Kendrick can explain the case better than we."

"I shall expect you back in an hour," she said.

CHAPTER VI

BIG SAM'S DIPLOMACY

We walked down the street in silence, and I could feel Mr. Baldwin's chilling disapproval of our errand radiating from him at every step.

"We had better take the Clay Street car down to the City Hall, and get a hack at the Plaza," I said at last.

"I suppose that will be the best way," he assented coldly. "Since we are in for this unfortunate business, the less notice we attract, the better."

His tone roused a flash of temper in me, and I replied tartly:

"If the business is so distasteful to you, there are plenty of streets that lead in the other direction."

"Very true," he said with a shrug. But his steady footstep told me that he had no thought of turning back. We fell into silence, and so continued until we reached the Plaza.

"What's this?" I exclaimed, for at the corner of Clay and Kearny Streets a crowd was gathered, and a cheer, or rather a confusion of vocal applause, broke out as we approached.

A man mounted on a cart was shouting fiercely to several hundred men who had gathered about him, and I could hear such words as "leprous heathen," "cursed Mongols," and other phrases of denunciation roll from his lips.

I looked at him more closely. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and his coarse, florid features brought in a flash of memory the scene in the House of Blazes when the bleeding policeman had been rescued from his hoodlum assailants.

"Why, that's Kearney!" I cried.

"A friend of yours?" asked Mr. Baldwin sarcastically.

"I met him once."

"Perhaps you'd like to renew your acquaintance," said Mr. Baldwin, as we paused in curiosity on the edge of the crowd. "He seems to have an education in classical history."

We caught some reference to the labor troubles of Rome, and the fate of the freeman under the slave system that destroyed the ancient republic.

"I hadn't suspected it from a moment's speech with him," I said. "He has a good voice for this sort of work."

The crowd again broke out into tumultuous shouts at some bit of pleasing denunciation.

"Where are the police?" said Mr. Baldwin. "They ought to stop this."

I pointed to three or four members of the force who were standing near the speaker, apparently indifferent to his language.

"That's a scandalous neglect of duty," said Mr. Baldwin. "But we had better go about our unfortunate errand."

We had gone but two steps, however, before a hand grasped me by the shoulder.

"Glad to see you, Hampden. Glad to see you interested in the cause of the people. Welcome to our reception!"

It was the voice of Parks, giving boisterous greeting as he shook me by the hand.

"Isn't he great?" he continued rapidly. "What do you think of his speech?"

There was pride of authorship in his inquiry, and every movement testified to the excitement and pleasure that thrilled him.

"Is this your first performance?" I asked.

"No," he said. "We've been trying it on the street corners at odd times. Now we are ready to begin in earnest. What do you think of it?"

"I think you are rash to begin your agitation so near the police station. Your man will probably find himself in jail before he gets through his speech."

"The very thing!" said Parks explosively. "The best advertisement we could have. Here's our motto: 'The Chinese must go.' You can see it stirs 'em. Listen to that cheer. What could rouse the men of the city faster than to have Kearney thrown into jail for expressing their sentiments? Sir, if you think otherwise, you do not understand the people."

Parks gave an emphatic shake to his head and another to his warning forefinger that was held before me, and the wild look of the enthusiast glowed in his face.

"Doubtless you are right," I admitted. "But I must keep an engagement that will deprive me of the privilege of listening to your orator."

"You will have to listen to him some day," said Parks, shaking his finger at us once more. "The day of the people is coming."

Mr. Baldwin had been watching us with some interest.

"Your friend appears to be very much in earnest," he said as we went our way.

"There's a man who's very likely to be hanged because he thinks he has an idea," I replied.

"I should say he was more likely to end his days in the violent ward at Stockton," returned Mr. Baldwin.

"Perhaps you are the better guesser," I admitted. "It will depend on his opportunities."

We had come among the hackmen at the other end of Portsmouth Square, and I picked out one with courage in his face and a good span of horses to his hack.

"This will do, I think," I said.

"Very good," replied Mr. Baldwin, stepping into the hack. "Have you arranged any plan of proceeding? I suppose you know the condition of affairs better than I." This last an evident apology for deferring to my judgment.

"Yes," said I, as we lurched around the corner and rolled up Washington Street. "You had better remain with the hack across the street and a door or two from Big Sam's. I shall run up-stairs and tell him our plans. If he approves of them we will bring the girl down, bundle her into the hack and get her out of here as quick as the fates will let us."

"You are certain you would not like company when you go up the stairs to see Big Sam?" inquired Mr. Baldwin carelessly.

"I don't think it necessary," I replied.

"Are you armed?" he asked.

"I have a revolver."

"Very good. I have nothing but a penknife. It is hardly customary to carry firearms when making a social call."

"I do not make a habit of it," I said coldly. "I expected to come here to-night, and I did not foresee that I was to have company."

He made no reply to this, and the hack drew up near Big Sam's door as I had directed.

I stepped out and Mr. Baldwin followed.

"I think you had better remain here," I said.

"Perhaps," he replied. "But if you have no objection I'll stop at the foot of the stairs. You might have occasion to call to me and I should hear you better there."

"I think there is no danger."

"Big Sam is not as scrupulous as you may think. It has been said that men have gone up those stairs who never came down."

I remembered Big Sam's judgment hall, and the power he had apparently exercised over the warring tongs, and thought it quite likely that judgments had been executed as well as passed within its walls.

"Suit yourself," I said. "But as you are not armed you can do nothing but raise an alarm if the need comes. And you may be in more danger than I."