Chicago (Ill.) -- Fiction; Human trafficking -- Fiction
"What does she want?" snorted John Boland.
"She said in a printed letter," replied Miss Masters, "that she wanted to
put several property owners and crooked senators in jail."
Grogan was impressed by this statement.
"Do you want to buy the rest of my South Side property, John?" he
inquired of Boland.
"Doesn't she know she's disturbing business?" asked Boland of Miss
Masters, ignoring Grogan.
"Mary Randall also said," the girl replied, "that the greatest business
in the world is that of redeeming 'Little Lost Sisters.'"
"You see, you see," said Grogan, "the farther you go, John, the more
punches you get."
"I haven't time to bother with this foolishness," said Boland. "I've got
a big contract on with the Simmons people."
He went to the door of his son's office.
"Come on Harry--you too Mike. Come in, Miss Masters, and take down this
contract."
The three men started toward the door. As Grogan passed Miss Masters he
whispered: "Young woman, if any more blue skyrockets come for me, play
the hose on them."
"Very well," said the girl, smiling.
Having secured her notebook she started toward the inner office when a
smartly dressed young man entered.
"Hello girlie," he said, intercepting her.
"Good morning," replied Miss Masters primly. "What's your business?"
"Oh, just like that, eh?" said the youth.
"Yes," replied the girl sharply. "What do you want?"
"Mr. John Boland."
"You can't see him now. He's busy."
There was a sharp, impatient call from the inner office.
"Yes sir, I'm coming," replied the girl.
"Well, be quick about it," returned the voice. "Do you think I can wait
all day?"
"That's John Boland, isn't it?" inquired the man eagerly.
Miss Masters nodded assent.
"Well, tell him--"
"I'm sorry," broke in the girl, "but he's busy. He won't see anyone."
"Well then, tell him when you can that Martin Druce called."
"Martin Druce!" Miss Masters kept her eyes on the blank page before her,
but she made no effort to make a memorandum of the name. She added
slowly:
"You called on the 'phone this morning."
"I sure did." Druce, with the familiarity of an old acquaintance, began
toying with the silver vanity box Miss Randall wore suspended from her
neck. "Say," he went on insinuatingly, "you have the sweetest voice--"
"Better tell me why you want to see Mr. Boland," she said quietly taking
the vanity box from him and putting him at a distance. At the same time
she smiled at him archly.
"Just want to renew a lease--the Cafe Sinister."
"Oh," said the girl, "I've heard of it."
"It's some swell place," replied Druce with pride.
"Yes?" said the girl. She pantomimed counting money. "Yes, as long as you
can keep the police asleep."
"What in--what the deuce do you mean?" Druce inquired quickly.
Miss Masters shrugged her shoulders. Again she smiled at him archly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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