Produced by Al Haines [Frontispiece: If ever prayer came from the depths of a broken heart, it was that forlorn plea for the lost sister.] TRAFFIC IN SOULS _A Novel of Crime and Its Cure_ BY EUSTACE HALE BALL _ILLUSTRATIONS FROM SCENES IN THE PHOTO-PLAY_ G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY PUBLISHERS ---- NEW YORK COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY _Traffic in Souls_ _This novel is based in part upon the scenario of the photo-drama of the same name written by Walter MacNamara and produced by the UNIVERSAL FILM MANUFACTURING COMPANY, New York City. The incidents and characterisations are founded upon stories of real life. Actual scenes of the underworld haunts are faithfully reproduced. The criminal methods of the traffickers are substantiated by the reports of the John D. Rockefeller, Jr., Investigating Committee for the Suppression of Vice, and District Attorney Whitman's White Slave Report._ Press of J. J. Little & Ives Co. New York TO THAT FEARLESS AMERICAN CITIZEN AND STERLING PUBLIC OFFICIAL, CHARLES S. WHITMAN, DISTRICT ATTORNEY FOR THE BOROUGH OF MANHATTAN, IN THE CITY OF NEW YORK, THIS BOOK IS ADMIRINGLY DEDICATED. E. H. B. "_What has man done here? How atone, Great God, for this which man has done? And for the body and soul which by Man's pitiless doom must now comply With lifelong hell, what lullaby Of sweet forgetful second birth Remains? All dark. No sign on earth What measure of God's rest endows The Many mansions of His house._ "_If but a woman's heart might see Such erring heart unerringly For once! But that can never be._ "_Like a rose shut in a book In which pure women may not look, For its base pages claim control To crush the flower within the soul; Where through each dead roseleaf that clings, Pale as transparent psyche-wings, To the vile text, are traced such things As might make lady's cheek indeed More than a living rose to read; So nought save foolish foulness may Watch with hard eyes the sure decay; And so the lifeblood of this rose, Puddled with shameful knowledge flows Through leaves no chaste hand may unclose; Yet still it keeps such faded show Of when 'twas gathered long ago, That the crushed petals' lovely grain, The sweetness of the sanguine stain, Seen of a woman's eyes must make Her pitiful heart, so prone to ache, Love roses better for its sake:-- Only that this can never be:-- Even so unto her sex is she!_ "_Yet, Jenny, looking long at you, The woman almost fades from view. A cipher of man's changeless sum Of lust, past, present, and to come, Is left. A riddle that one shrinks To challenge from the scornful sphinx._