The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, November 22, 1903, Page 8

THE SUNDAY CALL. cents t ical of the erence his bel oftener elf stood ready a good dru ficient dishonor w of a the blow ht to be de nd ca act like = treated like & lad rd to declare betweern th as he led a bonnet d ski ete., roughly into a patrol wagon. To be sure, the exaspera- tion had been extreme. The bonnet and skirt as if they con- he cat specles of Detec face had been laid open nds from eve to chin. The point r, that Nettie Jeliffe did act like a Jady ccording to Detective Acker- ay's standard at least, and that he once happer to be present when Harvey Jeliffe was executing a bit of matrimon- 1al discipline and threatened to “rum him " was be would x t beileved it eray been believed it any chastis needed o over the hs I tell you those, too,” Nettie declared s champloning her husband's right to her up according to his best light, ud take care o' your own you try to take care o er people's, you'd save more money. You're an old woman, that's what vou I wouldn't be found dead livin' with fly cops w s th to him!" “Hit him where. he 1 ck him out o' the street by- s ted, and ettie em- b ont her try to pinch my she ent ¢ . you long d, leather front-office stiff, 1'd rather have kick me reg'lar every morn- n drink a bottle o' sham with you night. You go home an’ see 'f own wife don’t need a little troun- Detective Ackeray was not hurt by the of Nettie Jeliffe's speech; he d that it lessened her On the contrary, he was old ed enough to think : womanhood and that a family red function so long as ands ready to present a against the intervention of 3, leather-headed, front-of- not a_hackneyed term of en- nd if Nettie Jeliffe had been for a phrase by which to rec- ymmend herself to Detective Ackeray's e might not have hit upon iL. however, was mature and He did not mind hard words; not lacerate the flesh. He mind- nly bonmets and skirts with_feline- r conte: and it stands recorded at whereas before Nettie Jeliffe had jiculed him he had pronounced her a sound. de pper,” after she had ridiculed him he pronounced her emphatically a “corker.” No very definite ideas are attached to either of these words, but they both ex- press admiration, and *‘corker” is more nearly extreme than “clipper.”” Later Ackeray was heard to say, “That little woman i< too good for Jeliffe,” and to declare that he would do her a good turn some time if he saw his way. He was not @ man to split hairs about what he thought a good turn and what she would think a good turn; if she did not know what was good for her, he did; it was not good for her to be beaten. When he arrested Harvey *on suspicion” in connection with the housebreaking in Rishworth place she cried more bitterly than at any time when she had received a beating—she took her beatings for the most part in haughty silence. When he , succeeded In convicting Harvey. alto- gether on circumstantial evidence, and in ebtair a sentente for four years, she cried stiil mofe bitterly. That w: s it be He liked her better because uck to her man. The farewell be- shand and wife was neither heartbreaking nor prolonged, but it was “on- the level “Take care o' the kid, Net,' old girl.” Harvey said. “I'm_innocent all right ‘nough, but there zin't no need for the where I am.”’ reg’lar every Vvisitin’ Nettie, at the time really “Remein- good time, an’ don’t "get 1’1l take care o' Blanche, ed to worry. You'll write kid to know “I'N visit v, promise intending to- Keep her promise. make ber an into any good-by; y' ain't kissed me since last birthday. So long, the train and, Harvey started for the Stir. If Detcctive Ackeray had been a private zen and not a prince, or princeling, he must in mere have forborne for some time his admiration for Nettic Jeiiffe. The aristocrgey is more dircet; of a pHnce and even a ste, and their sub- power * makes haste possible. in the given circumstances was difficult, but courtship in the given cir- cumstances s alwa difficult, and there are no circumstances whatever in which women have not been wooed and won. Detective Ackeray began his courtship on a strcet corner and continued it in a station-house. He had deprived her of a protector who did not protect; he wished to provide her with another who would; he had not hunted down Harvey cut of malice; it had been his busincss to work up such evidence as there was and he had done his business and got his rewaid, and the prosecuting attorney had done the rest. ly, with 2 manly stgaightforwardness that should have touched the heart cr the imagination or fancy of- any woman. When, instead of listening to him she re- viled him with feminine finish, point and fluency before a gathering crowd of chaf- fing auditors he proved himseif a man to be depended upon in an emergency, one of the strong, dumb souls Carlyle and Ruskin used to celebrate as natural liad- ers and governors of men; he prompi.y piaced her under arrest as drunk and dis- orderly. The next morning In court she sufficiently demonstrated her disposition to disorder by treating his Honor with an alternate haughtiness and eio- quence which made the audience behind the rall titter and the double bench of bluecoats shake with involuntary mirth. The balliff cried - “Silence!” and thrcat- ened to clear the court; his Honor passed mere ather decency to express These things he told her round- * wentence of $10 or ten days. Detective Ackeray paid the fine. In the corridor of the Magistrate's Court he gave Nettie what he would have been pleased to call “professional” advice. “See here, Net, the next time 't 1 chew the rag with you about cuttin’ up. In ‘the streets an’ boosin’, you want to listen— see? She did not listen the next time, nor the time after, though it need not be doubted that she was-impressed—yes, and subdued and attracted—by the might and decision of the prin She had loved Harvey, mainly because he had vanquished her kinsmen, and a little because he had beaten her as often as she needed it and not oftener. In equal logic she ought to have loved the prince, mainly because he had vanquished Harvey, and a little be- cause, if he did not beat her to silence her tongue, he had discovered a method of procedure which much more nearly silenced it than anything that Harvey had ever done; and the strong point of every woman is logic—the women in thelr conventions and clubs say so. But the secon. strong peint of every woman is her gift for concealing her loglc. Nettie Jeliffe concealed hers, so far at least as Detective Ackeray was concerned, as long as in all human endurance a Wwoman could, She became an old offender in the sev- eral magistrates courts in the district throughout which Detective Ackeray had cuthority. 'The charge was always drunx and disorderly, and the complainant al- ways Detective Ackeray; and sometimes as the months passed she had been drunk and she had always been disorderly. She could not go back to her kinsmen—her mere presence reminded them too vividly of an unpleasant incident, or coruscation of incidents, which had taken place at the moment of her departure. She could not retain a position even when she got one, because of the trequency with which she was under arrest; and, besides, the fact that she was Harvey Jeliffe's wife was "‘;" commonly regarded as a recommenda- on. Ackeray. paid her fine, or let her pay it herself, or work it vut, as a jockey might gentie or punish a spirited horse which he took pride in training. Whether he pald her tine or not, he always repeated to her that the next time he tried to chew the 1ag with her she had better listen—see? Her absences from home and her proved intemperance made her an im- proper guardian. for little: Blanche. When the child was taken away from her, aiso at the instigation of Detective Ackeray, Nettie Jeliffe listened. Three months afterward she was legally and absolutely separated.from Harvey and was married to a man whom she ad- dressed sometimes as ““George,” sometimes as “dear,” and little Blanche who was restored to her home, was outspoken in ker approval of her new papa. Detective Ackeray was “George.” He was also dear, It has been remarked in the first part of this tale that Harvev Jeliffe, on be- coming a penitent in the great — peni- tentiary, had no notion or intention of ever bidding for the notoriety that has come to him In later years as the Prison Demon. He went to the Stir originally with the idea of getting all the ‘“good time” that the law allows a man who Bas been pentenced to four years and of keeving out of all rows, as his wife bad advised. He did that which all wise men who are semt to prison do—in the language of the pugilist, he gathered him- self together. Men who go to prison for the first time have more difficulty in achleving this feat than those who have been there before; but to live at all suc- cessfully—and even prisoners have their standard of success—all must soouer or later hit upon a plan by which they dre to deal with their guards and fellow peni- tents with as littie friction as possible. Even with the most careful there are moments when they entirely forget their philoscphy and do things which in the open they would never have been guilty of. Long vonfinement will disturb the mental equiiibrium of any man; but all must struggle, and do struggle, to live as unobtrusive lives under the circumstances as possible. Harvey Jeliffe, on arriving at the great —— penitentiary, knew with a certainiy which would have made some men com- mit sulcide that he was Innocent of the crime for which he had been cenvicted; but he knew also that it was no use to let this fact govern his policy as a pris- oner. It was not for him (o ask the pris- on world how or why his conviction Had come about: it was for him to be an ey exemplary convict. And so, wondering all the while how things were going ‘‘on the cutside’” and continually struggling with an impatience at the way the world Is made, he worked hard for two years and nine months to get a “good conduct” re- duction of his sentence. There remained but a few months more of confinement, and they were to be the least irksome of all, because Harvey had climbted the heights which lead to the eminence of a “trusty”; he had become the errand boy of the prison doctor and was sent on com- missions to dll the different departments. One day, whiie on an errand to the glove department, he met an old acquaintance who had recently been commifted to the institution, and he . asked him for the news .of the “outside.” “How is the push -comin’ up quéried, referring to his old *‘pals.’ were *‘settled”’ (in prisons, like himself), he learned: others were dead, and still others were operating in new fields. “What's the matter with Net? I ain't heard anythin’ from her for two years.” ‘Ain’'t no one put you next?” the new- comer counter-questioned him. ./ “Next to what? She ain’t dead, is she?” ¥, > g N0, she's 'live an’ kickin® yet, but that fiy cop Ackeray has tled up with her. They're married.” “Where's the kid?” “ghe's livin’ with Ackeray, too. him papa.” q A lqurd appeared just then, and the Calls conversation was broken off. It had betrlx successful, however; Harvey had wantec “new: and he had got it. There were other trips-to the glove department to se- cure the detals of the story by word of mouth, but his own imagination had patched them together for him after he had learned the main fact, which was that Ackeray had done him dirt.”” The unmerited conviction and imprisonment became for him now part of a general scheme to “ditch” him.' The injustice of the punishment had troubled him and “made it hard to obey the rules, but he had conquered the temptation to unruly. He had been puzzied by Nettie's refusal to write, but he had not connected Ackeray with her neglect of him. In ah indefinite way he had planned scme day to settle accounts with Ackeray for the part he had played in his (Har- vey's) misfortunes, but, the thought of ways and means had not captured his mind; that could be attended to after he had secured his reduction of sentence. Had he been ‘“outside” even the news of Ackeray’s theft of his wife and child might possibly have been as rea considered as had been the conv that e wwas unjustly a prisoner. Men of Har- vey's stamp are much calmer In the open than in the Stir, and marriages and divorces take on no such flnal propor- tions. . It had taken all of Harvey's good gense, however, to be a model:penitent and the complete revelation of Ackeray duplicity fired him with a desire for re- Henceforth his one passion venge. to meet Ackeray. He still remained a “trusty”’; good behavior had become au- tomatic with him: but his ambition was no longer simply to be released. He spoke to the warden and the gua of his wish to have a talk with Ackeray. He said that therc was a su ded sentenc harging over him in another court, and be anted to know if ing “to fix things up for h “i{e’s the - .ly fellow that ca traight- en the matter out,”” he explained to the warden, “and I want to have a talk with him."” he Ackeray w e JOSII FLINT “ap FRANCES AALTHN be “You're afrald yo ing turned loose fr asked the ward “That's exac arrested on be e, s that sald Harvey, I think if Acker 1 g0 to the fromt me I won't be ! «All right. Ackeray’s goin’ to bring soms prisoners here in a & him know."” Three days later Detective A rived at the great — peni o« batch of penitents, for whose body was given & receipt by the warden. He was informed of Harvey's talk with him and was pressed with the importar of such a talk. Possibly it to bis advantage to arrar that the alleged suspen should be carried out. “Sure, I'll ses him, he warden. ‘“Where is bs 7" “You’ll probably find him o doctor’s office. Take hi int den If you want to be prt doctor I sald it would be a The meeting took place or’s office. The was in a r part of the prison and H . charge. No one - between the two men, and ¢ the guards knew anything a being together. Whether Ha of suspended sentenc charged Ackeray immediatel of him r been he two men were nference, \& to the testimony of the guards, abo half an hour, and it seems reasonabls suppose that Harvey could only have fn- ted Ackeray this length of time by o the suspended s but happe tere at a refused to r r the other. o his office a pool of b By T. B. - T was the kitte: began _it, the Ma kitten whose nam Deot, though it was ually called by any dearing epitnet Wh came handy. It not have the paper ball provided for it, mor on a tour of exploration into th then Inte Graham's staudio. But was Grahdm's fault, because lected to close the studio door to went out. Of course, Miss Mabel Hastir to get her pet, and, of course, as the Kitten would not come at her ¢ to go into he found it tting erenel; under the long studio wi ten safe in he rm: back- to her inte work not, howeve red t voice of the tempte 1 her her opporti was st ch, it wa see a little more and that no one wou know. She had wanted for a long w to know what Graham's s ) was and if it sulted with him, 3 a number of other things. 4 It is the first step that counts. From survey Miss Hastings descend- ha a general e ed to a particular examination. She toed across the room, gl d at books, and inspected the Japanese iv fn a cabinet on the wall. Then. hav fmbrued one finger, as it were, and ing having happened, t no reason why she sho whole hand. eside: come, she had the kitt was to the kitten she talked as she wan- dered about. “He wouldn't care at m; looking plctures, kitty,” she conflded as she rum- maged in a stack of nvases, d any way, it he doesn't want them tooke why does put- them with to the wail? He ought to know ¢ would make any onc—any ‘one desire to them. 1 wonder If they are rejected pic tur and if he hates to see them do that pile of rejected stor Perhaps that is why be Wwrong side out. Hum! rather good, I should say. ‘Ita ant Girl'—I don’t think much of man with pipe, moonlight or sunrise, or comething: It's pretty, but I can't make Just look at the dust behind them, it out. n too. It's all over my skirt. It would be a glve-away If he should come—only T'd say I got it hunting for you. Did you ever see anything like this table, Do I wish 1 gared stralghten it up. He needs some one to keep things In order. Bachelors are so untidy, which show that were never intended by heaven to r¢ bachelors, for order i aven's first law. Jt must be nice, though, to feel above obeying it.” She moved about the room as she talked, studying the sketches on the wall, testing the softness of the divam, fceling the texture of the tapestries. running her fingers along the mantel shelf and looking at it with mock horror. “lt's just the kind of studio I thought he'd have, Dotlets. It's just ke him— blg and sunny, and not too many books, nor too many curios, mor cluttered up With furniture. I don't lke a flnicky man, nor @ booky man, and he isn't either. 1 knew he wasn't. Is that the model's throne over there. 1 wonder—that platform? It doesn't seem to have been Used much, ard yet he's been painting this morning. 1'm going to see what it i It's covered by a curtain, but—a peep won't hurt any one. The easel stood in the corner by a' table littered with half-squcezed tubes, brushes, palettes and paint rags, as if the painter had thrown them down in a sudden heat of cxasperation over the inadequacy of his art. “Mabel drew the curtain from the pic- ture, and then sat down hastily on the painting stool. It was her own picture the was looking at. Her own, and yet not her own. Not the everyaay, story- writing, money-worrled Mabel Hastings whom her looking glass reflected, but a girl clad in some soft, exquisite, clinging Eastern fabric, reclining gracefully in a deep ‘chair of inlaid ebony. There were jewels glcaming Iu the meshes of her ON THE TRAIL OF A MALTESE Wrigh*. row of pearls ved throat. Her e roses in her coiled h amy know said Katinka, that Mabel,. when, here's no ink I just know it 1s, ly, of course, it's him, you can't put them or to show Maybe— to me. t ¢ kit. I'm them. and of course s to say I'm dn't think of ke to. < a soldter don’t know >tting into my I can do for 2't much—for The editors, being and homely old ¢ jealous. If—if I 1 he should t think I'd and so inted me because liked me, and things, or would sell? o Jor 1 iss Hastings r d her attack— en “I thought I left it covered,” sald ( ham to ask the s painti s hard- at of it ried hotly, to make beautif o g ge " these gs—or to paint I suppose I had am reached about for a palette k d it What you & » do?" asked Mabel faintly Destr: it—or rather let you, my whole h t. All m 1s—and I > > her She took it. not use it. “T don't know how,” she said. “and I don't think I want to. I v ? It's my pic- ture.” The mow the eyes. go out. “You m ¢ “] don't thir I'd mind so very much if it did” whispered Miss Mabel Hast- ings. ot even i It wes some m Mabel thought to look for the ) kitten, which h mehow tumbled to the floor. “When you retouch the picture, Ned— Ned, dear id, “couldn’t you put Dot in somewhere? I think Dotlets de- serves a reward. don't you And Graham agreed.