The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, October 2, 1904, Page 7

THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. —ORNCRIRNINC: TEE MYSTERY oF INCOMES DEVIOUS WAKSOF CHEVALIERS D INDUSTRIE. our ‘communic EAR UNCLE SILAS—I have you remind me—mnot as my , but as have been drawing with incor v bank balance lately. myself in those forms of m ate pro As my uncle you kin t to stine which 1, wealth and i offer to as a young gentleman of a banker ocon he i 1 ith that even a balance beyond the fancy of f I confided the tenor of your observations to Mrs. while. as you my tion. spires me with that kind of confidence wh and sympathetic understanding in my wor you i about i ed no safety but comes she remarked n marriage. she added, with that whimsical to accustom myself in a wo sure the “But, Lord save us!’ which I find it difficult “But rd save us, Reuben, I'm not so isn’t worse than the disease! broke, and being married to the wrong gal is one of them. emy n of cinchy reme There are worse things in find it more expensive to support a family than to live en on, but It would be an econ ry. You are now the victim of every confidence man who you are not one of those men. y for you to mar- e wit or m there viled indulgently at her delusion that T could again be the dupe of nd begged her to proceed with her c—if there were any—of her contentior e needed to re remarks until [ should see that a man could live mar- 1 less than 1 “Oh,” replied she merrily, “if we are to hold fast to logi nsist that my p;emmes be not perverted. I did not say that a man could live mar- ried on less than he needed as a2 bachelor, but on less than he sometimes spends as a bachelor. You do not need half, not a quarter, of what you spend. The balance a clever wife would save for you—to spend on her- self. Many a woman lives well in our society on what she saves from the income of a man who before she married him was always in debt with the same income. A clever wife would save you from being bunkoed’—a lo- calism for cheated—“would see that you were properly dressed—I mnote that you are improving in that respect—would discourage you from play- ried pain sing ing faro, the races, Wall street or any other sure thing game, and would give you a home where the cooking and service would equal your club’s.” “And are these the things which constitute a wife’s duty in our society, dear madam?” I inquired in amazement. “They constitute a wifely duty which only the clever woman can per- form; and a wife who is up to the game to that extent is entitled to the use of all of her husband’s income not required for his moderate living expenses. The ideal wife in our set is the one who keeps her husband comfortably housed, fashionably dressed, and entertained at home by the kind of society he enjoys—not the kind she wants him to enjoy. To do that is not so much a matter of expense as brainy management. Such women are mever in the divorce courts, nor alone in an opera box with ‘a friend of the family’; yet such live a life of almost as complete inde- pendence as if they were not hampered by a husband. They entertain in their own way—as well as in the way their husbands may like—dress as they wish, travel when and where they are a mind to, with hubby always along. If you were married to such a woman you would be amazed at how small an allowance you could get along with. My dear old Jack used to say to me, ‘Polly,’ he'd say, ‘p’chee, you spend about nine-tenths of my income, but I have more comfort out of the other tenth than I used to have out of the whole shooting match. How do yo.u manage it, old gir1? I'm blanked if I can make it olit.” I politely expressed myself as unable as was the late lamented Jack Lacquerre to see how it could be done, and the lady replied to my in- quiries: “W as a sample of a hundred little fool tricks I cured Jack of, T pointed out to him that there were no rules in the game which re- quired him tc send half a dozen bunches of American Beauties, at per, to half a dozen friends’ wives every time he passed a flower shop. I earned the reputation of being the best dressed woman in New York from what I saved out of Jack's income by shitting off a little bunch of tricks like that from Jack’s list of bad habit I admit that every!'wéshan can't v as I was in my marriage—nor can every man be as lucky as was my husband. Still, I stick to the proposition that for a man who becomes properly house broken and submits to a wife's reasonable steer- ing it’s cheaper to be married than single.” “Then madam,” I said, grasping at the moral of her preachment, “you advise me to get married.” “No, I'll be hanged if I do, Reuben,” she replied. “I only say that if you can’t keep out of the clutches of chevaliers d'industrie you should marry a woman who will shoo them away from you. You've a corking big income, which is now largely going to the support of gentlemen who live by their wits.” I could only laugh at this frankness, for from her it is an amuse- ment. And, of course, I could but smile at her implication that I could ever be caught by the devices of another chevalier d’industrie. I told her that to avoid even the contact of such persons I intended to move into apartments and set up a modest establishment of my own. She inquired if I had yet selected apartments, and when I had assured her that.I was still undecided, she frankly told me that I would do well to leave the matter to her, and probably thereby save myself trouble. This was rather more patronage than I was prepared to endure, so I informed her that I felt competent to rent a home for myself, and departed to go about that very business. As I have intimated, many men have sought my acquaintance at the hotel—rather too many. It is a matter of pride, to be sure, that I, a stranger, should be sought so extensively. Also it is a fact to which I feel at liberty to advert that seldom have I met men in the lobbies of any hotel who failed to express a pleasant appreciation of my merits. But an unfortunate characteristic about every man and woman who has called on me is that he or she suffers from temporary financial embarrassment. I hope I am too just and considerate of my fellow man’s burdens to refuse to relieve distress when it is revealed to me, but while the demand for money increases alarmingly, the return of loans remains non inventus. five In looking through a list of apartments proffered in reply to an ad- wertisement I found one peculiarly suited to my wants, the more so as the furniture of the apartment was offered for sale. The gentleman, a Mr. Van Alpine, who made the offer, called on me in response to my request, and explained the circumstances which forced him to dispose of the fur- nishings of his apartment, as well as to offer the favorable lease he held. It was simply that his business compelled him, unexpectelly, to reside in Boston, and he remarked that “a moving is as bad as a fire,” so he had decided to sell. I went to his apartment with him and found that he had in no degree exaggerated the extent ‘and elegance of the furnishing and decorations. I have seen enough of undoubted elegance at the homes Aunt Sarah’s and Mrs. Lacquerre’s kindness have opened to me to know that here was a collection of great merit and richness. When we had examined the rooms and their belongings the gentleman offered me refreshments, stating that he had dismissed his servants, being on the very eve of departure, so he would have to serve me after his own fashion. It was a pretty fashion, though, for he soon had a table spread with delectable sandwiches, choice fruit and a bottle of vintage champagne; placing these before me in a man- ner so deft and neat that it added to my appetite. When we had partaken of the repast I asked Mr. Van Alpine at what he valued the furnishings as they stood. He replied with a slightly wry face that he had no trouble in giving me exact figures of the cost, as he had but lately paid the bills. They amounted, in fact, to a little more than $r0,000. “But, Mr. Larkmead,” he added, “I dm a man who takes his medicine, as the saying is, and I know that a forced sale makes a pretty purchase. Say $5000 cash and I'll pocket the loss and sign the bill over another bottle.” I was too sharp to bite at this attractive bait, and I shrewdly replied: “Say $2500 and the check is yours.” He smiled politely as he réplied: “I am obliged to you for looking over my belongings, but if that is all you will pay for them the interview need not be prolonged.” “Good day, Mr. Van Alpine,” T said, rising to depart, but he motioned me to be seated and remained for some minutes in deep conjecture. Then he said impulsively: “Sir, I am no salesman and cannot boggle for a bargain. My immediate concern is to have this business at an end. Therefore, sir, the goods are yours for the check.” I wrote the check with a trembling hand, fearing a change of mind on his part, but he accepted it as if glad that ‘the business were off his mind. We left the house together, he to close his affairs down town, I to order my trunks packed and write you the news of my good fortune. I will report later cn how I enjoy my home. Later—Alas, Uncle S ! the schemes of the wicked are devious and deep. My pride has received -a hurt which I confess with mortification. But confess I must, and, as I do all things, in an orderly manner. Having seen to the packing of niy belongings at the hotel, and taking a little satchel containing my jewelry and trinkets in my hand, I proceed- ed to my new apartments. I entered by the key Mr. Van Alpine gave me, and making a more leisurely survey of the premises, found a number of art treasures which delighted me by their richness. I found, too, that a set of oak book shelves were wisely stored, and taking a favorite vol- ume of history, I seated myself to pass the time profitably pending the arrival of my trunks. My excitement over my favoring fortune and the exciting nature of the chapter I was reading, “Angels’ Traces in Aryan Sources,” combined to produce a thirst which reminded me of the conveni- ent wine closet, and soon I was seated before a blazing gas log, a bottle open by my side, smoking an excellent cigar and delightfully absorbed in my engaging chapter. Thus disposed, I was surprised suddenly to find a stranger near me and was pained to note that he was in imminent danger of a stroke of apopléxy. “Sir,” I said, “although you have entered my apartment uninvited, your distress appeals acutely to my sympathy. I beg of you to be seated until you have averted by rest a shock which seems likely to end your life unless precautions are taken.” The intruder, an elderly gentleman, had the appearance of having just left a train, was stout, well dressed, a familiar type, in short, of a pros- perous New Yorker of leisure. In response to my polite speech: he tried to speak, but only sputtered, or at best emitted inarticulate gurgles. “Be seated,” I urged. “Be seated and partake of a glass of this excellent wine.” By a supreme effort he succeeded in exclaiming, “Who the devil are you and what the devil are you doing in my apartment?” Deciding that he was some mildly insane person I said reassuringly, “I beg of you to be calm and tell me where you live that I may send for your friends.” The gentleman rang an electric bell and then sank into a chair. To a uniformed attendant, who ly responded to the bell, he said, “Now, who in thunder is this person and how in thunder did he get in here?” “He's the clock mender, sir. Your valet brought him here and said that he was to return with his tools and mend some clocks. So when he returned we supposed it was all right.” “My valet, Barker!” exclaimed the gentleman, and then went into gales of laughter, from which unseemly mirth I feared he would not emerge alive. But he quieted enough to say, as he wiped his eyes, “Oh, Barker! Oh, my Lord, Oh, that precious rascal. Oh, Barker, the villain! Has he done you, my good man? Tell me the story.” Not relishing being called “my good man,” T replied with dignity and briefly told how I came into possession of the rooms. I will not prolong the painful truths as they slowly -evolved during the next few hours while we were in communication with the superin- tendent of the house and the police. Briefly, rather let me explain. The gentleman was the real Mr. Van Alpine and the unwhipped rascal from whom I supposed I was buying the furniture was a discharged valet named Barker. Mr. Van Alpine had been warned by the police of Barker’s char- acter only a few hours before he (Mr. Van Alpine) left town, and he over- looked telling the superintendent of the apartment-house anything about the matter. Therefore Barker had been at liberty to come and go as if he were still employed by Mr. Van Alpine. He had taken me there under the pretense that I was a clock mendér, and when we left the house had quietly spoken to the superintendent, saying that I would return with a kit of tools and repair the clocks. I had chanced to mention to thée con- scienceless villain my plan of returning with a handbag of jewelry, and he had quickly taken advantage of the information to provide against my be- ing refused admittance. The police informed me that Barker was a quick moving fellow, and so we learned when the bank reported that the check had been cashed within an hour of my drawing it. When the real Mr. Van Alpine heard my name he asked me if I chanced to be related to Si Lark- mead, and when I informed him that you were my uncle he looked at me in astonishment and muttered over and over, “A nephew of sly old Si, and such an easy mark!” I do not know what he meant, but report His words for your information. I have told Mrs. Lacquerre of my latest experience, and she insists that she will personally install me in apartments and supply me with a valet who will prevent me from being kidnaped. She will have her little joke, you see. Me kidnaped! Wearily, REUBEN.