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I'm an old gambler, Lane. I've lived in many towns and mixed in tough
crowds of crooked men and rotten women. But I'm here to confess that
this after-the-war stuff of Middleville's better class has knocked out
about all the faith I had left in human nature.... Then you came along
to teach me a lesson."
"Well, Pepper, that's strong talk," returned Lane. "But cut it, and
hurry to--to what comes home to me. What's the matter with these
Middleville girls?"
"Lane, any intelligent man, who _knows_ things, and who can think for
himself, will tell you this--that to judge from the dress, dance,
talk, conduct of these young girls--most of them have _apparently_
gone wrong."
"You include our nice girls--from what we used to call Middleville's
best families?"
"I don't only include them. I throw the emphasis on them. The girls
you know best."
Lane straightened up, to look at his companion. Pepper certainly was
not drunk.
"Do you know--anything about Lorna?"
"Nothing specifically to prove anything. She's in the thick of this
thing in Middleville. Only a few nights ago I saw her at a roadhouse,
out on the State Road, with a crowd of youngsters. They were having a
high old time, I'll say. They danced jazz, and I saw Lorna drink
lemonade into which liquor had been poured from a hip-pocket flask."
Lane put his head on his hands, as if to rest it, or still the
throbbing there.
"Who took Lorna to this place?" he asked, presently, breathing
heavily.
"I don't know. But it was Dick Swann who poured the drink out of the
flask. Between you and me, Lane, that young millionaire is going a
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pace hereabouts. Listen," he went on, lowering his voice, and glancing
round to see there was no one to overhear him, "there's a gambling
club in Middleville. I go there. My rooms are in the same building.
I've made a peep-hole through the attic floor next to my room. Do I
see more things than cards and bottles? Do I! If the fathers of
Middleville could see what I've seen they'd go out to the asylum....
I'm not supposed to know it's more than a place to gamble. And nobody
knows I know. Dick Swann and Hardy Mackay are at the head of this
club. Swann is the genius and the support of it. He's rich, and a high
roller if I ever saw one.... Among themselves these young gentlemen
call it the Strong Arm Club. Study over that, Lane. Do you _get_ it? I
know you do, and that saves me talking until I see red."
"Pepper, have you seen my sister--there?" queried Lane, tensely.
"Yes."
"With whom?"
"I'll not say, Lane. There's no need for that. I'll give you a key to
my rooms, and you can go there--in the afternoons--and paste yourself
to my peep-hole, and watch.... Honest to God, I believe it means
bloodshed. But I can't help that. Something must be done. I'm not
much good, but I can see that."
Colonel Pepper wiped his moist face. He was now quite pale and his
hands shook.
"I never had a wife, or a sweetheart," he went on. "But once I had a
little sister. Thank Heaven she didn't live her girlhood in times like
these."
Lane again bowed his head on his hands, and wrestled with the might of
reality.
"I'm going to take you to these club-rooms to-night," went on Pepper.
"It'll cause a hell of a row. But once you get in, there'll be no help
for them. Swann and his chums will have to stand for it."
"Did you ever take an outsider in?" asked Lane.
"Several times. Traveling men I met here. Good fellows that liked a
game of cards. Swann made no kick at that. He's keen to gamble. And
when he's drinking the sky's the limit."
"Wouldn't it be wiser just to show me these rooms, and let me watch
from your place--until I find my sister there?" queried Lane.
"I don't know," replied Pepper, thoughtfully. "I think if I were you
I'd butt in to-night with me. You can drag young Dalrymple home before
he gets drunk."
"Pepper, I'll break up this--this club," declared Lane.
"I'll say you will. And I'm for you strong. If it was only the booze
and cards I'd not have squealed. That's my living. But by God, I can't
stand for the--the other stuff any longer!... Come on now. And I'll
put you on to a slick stunt that'll take your breath away."
He led the way out of the hotel, in his excitement walking rather
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fast.
"Go slow, Pepper," said Lane. "We're not going over the top."
Pepper gave him a quick, comprehending look.
"Good Lord, Lane, you're not as--as bad as all that!"
Lane nodded. Then at slower pace they went out and down the bright
Main Street for two blocks, and then to the right on West Street,
which was quite comparable to the other thoroughfare as a business
district. At the end of the street the buildings were the oldest in
Middleville, and entirely familiar to Lane.
"Give White's the once over," said Pepper, indicating a brightly
lighted store across the street. "That place is new to you, isn't it?"
"Yes, I don't remember White, or that there was a confectionery den
along here."
"Den is right. It's some den, believe me.... White's a newcomer--a
young sport, thick with Swann. For all I know Swann is backing him.
Anyway he has a swell joint and a good trade. People kick about his
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