The Menace
by David H. Keller
Chapter I
Taine of San Francisco had been called to New York. That, in itself, was an unusual, unheard of and unprecedented happening. For the first time in the history of the two cities, the Atlantic Metropolis had called upon the Secret Service of the Golden Gate for help. While Taine, one of the shrewdest detectives west of the Rockies, was rushing across the continent under sealed orders he considered this fact and looked forward with eager anticipation to the time when he would become acquainted with the problem, which was apparently too difficult for the Eastern operators to handle.
Arriving in the great city he at once went to the Pennsylvania Hotel, where a room had been reserved for him, and, in the privacy of that room, he opened and read his sealed orders. He did so with a growing sense of disappointment. He had expected something exciting and instead was simply directed to wait in his room till visited by an old man with puppies for sale. Of these he was to offer to buy the black one. That was all.
To Taine it looked like an unnecessary piece of nonsense.
However, he had hardly time to unpack his baggage when the telephone rang and a voice at the other end asked whether the gentleman would like to buy a fine puppy. Taine said, “Perhaps,” and told the man to come to his room. In a short time a knock at the door and a chorus of little yelps was heard. When the door was opened, in came a little, old Jewish peddler, carrying a basket, which seemed filled with dogs, little dogs of all colors. Without speaking, Taine closed and locked the door, and then started to look over the little dogs. Finally he found one that was solid black.
“I’ll take this one he said. “How much?”
The Jew smiled and handed him a scrap of paper. Then he put the cover on the basket and, unlocking the door, left the room.
The man from San Francisco locked the door, hung his handkerchief over the keyhole, pulled down the shades and read the scrap of paper. It simply directed him to open an account at the First National Bank. That was all.
When Taine followed this order he was told that he would have to see the Cashier, but, when he followed the bank watchman, he found himself in the President’s office, and the President of the bank was not alone.
“I suppose,” said that official, “that you are Mr. Taine, the detective sent us by the city of San Francisco?”
The Westerner started to produce his identification paper.
“That is not necessary,” said the Bank President, cordially. “Your selection of the black puppy was enough to make us sure you were the man we have been looking for. Now, let us get started and first let me introduce these gentlemen. This is Mr. Tally of the United States Secret Service, who has come especially from Washington for this meeting. The next gentleman is Gray, the Chief of our city Secret Service. You probably know Smith, who is an expert on finger-prints. Next to him is Dr. Jenkins who is the medico-legal adviser to our courts, and lastly, but of equal importance is B. Bailey Biddle, President of the New York Bankers’ Association. You may have thought that our precautions were unnecessary but we have had four private detectives on this matter, and every one of the four has disappeared. We feel that they have either met with foul play or have been bribed.
“That is one reason why we wanted a total stranger, one who was absolutely unknown in the city. Now, in order that you may understand the situation, I will ask each of these gentlemen to tell you briefly what he knows about it.
“Suppose we start with Smith.”
“About a year ago, in a Park Avenue apartment house,” said that gentleman, “a man was shot. An effort was made to hush it up by bribing the policeman who heard the shot. He was a new man and thought it was his duty to rush the man to the hospital and report the shooting at Headquarters. To make a long story short, the man died, but my Department had time to make his finger prints and take his measurements. As soon as he died he was buried by his friends, and all we had was the record we had made. We found that the prints and the measurements were identical with those of a negro criminal, well known some years ago to our Secret Service. Unfortunately for our peace of mind, the dead man was a white man. That has happened twice since then, and we had to explain it or confess that our method of identifying criminals was worthless. After the second incident in which we also lost the body, we were all on edge and when it occurred again, we held the body. It took some rather clever work but we were able to have Dr. Jenkins make a thorough examination of the corpse. He will tell you, himself, just what he found.”
“I can be very brief,” said Dr. Jenkins. “Talking is not my strong point. My pathologists examined that body in every way known to medical science and it was the body of a white man. The hair, however, was that of the negro race. No use going into details about it, though. We felt, when we finished, that while it looked like the body of a white man, it was somehow the body of a negro, who had in some mysterious way turned white: Of course such an idea was rather fantastic, but not impossible, so we made a full report to Chief Gray. He has been working on the problem and can tell you about it.”
“I wish I could,” said Gray. “If I could solve this problem I would be very happy. We put two of our best men on it and they simply dropped out of sight. Then I had a Philadelphia operator sent over and he never made a preliminary report. The Washington man put in a call for help but by the time we arrived he was gone and that was the end of him. It was evident that we were up against a system that was as clever as we were. So I called in the United States Secret Service, and Mr. Tally has been working with me for some months. Suppose we let him tell about the international developments.”
“One of the most interesting parts to that,” said Tally, continuing the story, “has been the large amount of gold transferred to New York from all the Continental countries, especially from France. No definite information can be secured concerning this gold, save that it is in bulk and the property of a small group of foreigners, who are steadily buying New York real estate with their wealth. We know fairly well who these people are— that is, we know who they are now — but it has been about useless to try and find out who they were and where they secured their wealth. We believe that as a group they are the richest financiers in the world. Some of their purchases in this city have been so unusual that no one, except the parties directly concerned, know about them. We have a lot of actual facts, a few surmises and one definite conclusion. We are sure that a group of white men, from continental Europe, have moved to New York and with their great wealth have purchased large blocks of real estate. This is all adjacent to Harlem. And, as fast as it is purchased, it is being occupied by colored people. Just what this means can only be surmised. Mr. Biddle will tell you how it affects the financial interests of America’s greatest city. The Government is interested in the problem, but the New York Bankers’ Association, being directly concerned, is financing this investigation.”
“You are a stranger to our city and its problems,” began Mr. Biddle, in a low, impressive voice, “and so it may be well to tell you something about Harlem. It is a city within a city, and is populated entirely by the colored race. There they have their own theaters, hotels, department stores, homes and apartment houses. During the day most of them work for the white race in New York; at night they return to their own city. We have depended on them for our servants and laborers and have, to a great extent, encouraged their forming such a social and economic center. For many years it has slowly increased in size but this growth has been in strict proportion to the growth of the entire city and so has been considered normal and healthy. But the situation during the past three years has been different and has given us all reason for the greatest anxiety. In the first place there has come to New York this group of foreigners, who are so wealthy that our Association can only guess as to what their total assets really amount to. They are all well educated, and appear to be of the greatest refinement. All of our society has been attracted to them, and there have been several marriages between their young people and ours, though this has been frowned upon by our best families. These aristocrats of the financial world are buying stocks, bonds, and the control of many of our great industries. We believe they hold the larger part of several of our railroads. They have fastened tightly to the food supplies. Someone has bought all the visible wheat and we believe that they are to be found at the bottom of the firm who have quietly bought several of our largest hotels. The most peculiar thing is their real estate purchases. The property around Harlem is being sold, and as fast as it is being sold and the leases expire the tenements, both houses and apartments, are being rented to colored people. From all over the United States, Central America and Europe, in fact wherever there are members of that race, they are steadily moving to New York, and in some way they are helped to make a living. Each day it becomes harder for a white man to secure work here, and every month a larger percent of the work in the city is being done by colored labor. That does not mean just pick and shovel work. They are going into the so-called white collar positions, and the white men are forced to either associate with them or to leave the city. Of course the rich are unaffected, but when we find the controlling shares of a bank stock in the hands of these wealthy foreigners, and one of their number elected to the Presidency of the Bank, it becomes a matter of great concern to us. During the past year the white population of Greater New York, and here I speak of all Caucasian groups in our city, has remained absolutely stationary. On the other hand, the colored population has gained five hundred per cent.”
He paused long enough to wipe the beads of sweat off his face.
“Can you see what it means? If this keeps up for another ten years, New York will be a colored city. Those of us who are left here will either have to recognize the members of the race as social equals, or move out. Can you imagine the last white man in the city going through the vehicular tube in his automobile and never returning? We feel that there is something deadly and mysterious about the whole matter, and we are asking you to solve it for us. Mr. Gray, you tell him just what your plan is.”
The Chief of the New York Secret Service pulled out a small memorandum book and changed his seat so that he directly faced Taine.
“Our investigation shows that your ancestors were Italian and Spanish. Your father was born in California but married a lady from Portugal. You speak French fluently and are well acquainted with Asiatic countries, like China and Hindustan. During the twenty years you have been in the San Francisco Secret Service, you have never failed to solve the problem assigned to you. You have a wife and several children. We will give you a million dollars which will become the property of your family, if you fail to return as the other four men did. We want you to go right back to California — do not even return to your hotel for your clothes. Take the first steamer for Tokio and then go down to Indo-China. There we will have you provided with papers showing you are a French citizen. You will then go to Paris and stay there some months as a wealthy French Colonial. Then you will come to New York with a reputation of being one of the richest men in France — but you are to come as a colored man. We will have you provided with letters of introduction. There will be no trouble in making the necessary contacts. Your deposits of several millions in the various Harlem Banks, will at once make you socially prominent. Stay there till you find out what is happening in this city.”
“A sweet job,” mused Taine. “How much can I draw on you for?”
“Any amount? answered President Biddle. “I mean just that — any amount that you need. Twenty-five, fifty or a hundred million to be spent by you in any way you see fit without any consultation or any accounting. We feel that you are the man for the job and that the big thing after brains is money. Your finances will be provided through our Paris representatives. We want no reports until you have the last and final one.”
“You will be alone in this work,” resumed Chief Gray, “but we will keep in contact with you. Constantly we want you to wear, in New York, a white carnation. If you want to communicate with us change to a pink one, and we will look after the details. We will let you out a side door and take you directly to the Pennsylvania Station. You will buy a ticket and drawing room for San Francisco, get off the train at Newark, get into an automobile driven by a red-headed Irishman with one arm and he will drive you to Montreal. There you can take the Canadian Pacific to the west. I have an idea that you may have been followed here and so you will take the usual precaution.”
Taine shook hands with all the men.
“You are all as solemn as though you were attending a funeral,” he said.
“I hope it will not be your funeral,” replied Dr. Jenkins.
V
SIX months later, Mr. Morosco Acquoine sat thoughtfully in his office. Well dressed, of olive complexion, with classical features, he looked more like a college professor than a Bank President. As the head of the Harlem Commercial Bank, he occupied a specially favored position in the social and financial life of that portion of New York. His wife was one of the social leaders, in fact there were many who considered her The Social Leader. Their daughter, Florabella, just graduated from a French convent, was perfectly endowed by nature in every way to perpetuate the social standing of the New York Acquoines. All that was needed was just a little more wealth, and then?
Mr. Morosco Acquoine was thinking about a letter he had just received from Paris, telling him of the departure for New York of a very interesting person, by name Jules Gerome. He was from Indo-China, where he had amassed great wealth. No one could tell just how much he was worth. He had been warmly received by the colored colony in Paris and had entertained elegantly and lavishly. Much to the disappointment of the Parisians he had decided to make New York his permanent home, and would arrive shortly. It was hoped that he would make the Harlem Commercial Bank his chief depository. If he did, Mr. Acquoine’s financial worries were at an end. Finally, it was of interest to know that he had very regular features, was very light in color and was unmarried. As far as could be ascertained, his morals were exemplary.
No wonder that the Bank President pondered over the letter. It was not at all surprising that he wondered vaguely whether such a man would by any chance become interested in his daughter, Florabella Acquoine.
A week later Mr. Jules Gerome sent in his card and asked for a few minutes of Mr. Acquoine’s time. Within a very few minutes Mr. Gerome was seated in a comfortable chair, refusing a very expensive cigar.
“I do not smoke,” said that young man sedately. “I found years ago that it injured the pearly lustre of my teeth. I have been through many hardships in my life, but I have always taken the best care possible of my teeth; but it is not of that I wish to confer with you. Here are some letters of introduction which I trust will be sufficient to allow me to become a depositor in your bank.”
“They are not necessary, Mr. Gerome,” answered the Banker, cordially.
“Perhaps not necessary, but usually a good thing. I was advised to select you, not only as my depository, but also as my fiscal agent.”
“I will be pleased to serve you in any way. Do you wish to open an account today?”
“Yes, I came here direct from the steamer. Can you secure a small furnished apartment for me, with a competent valet and a cook? I want to be in my own home by night time.”
“That is a rather short time,” said Mr. Acquoine, “but perhaps it can be arranged.”
“I think so. My first deposit with you will be twenty million dollars. Here are letters of exchange for that amount in gold.”
“I am sure that you will be in your own home before bedtime,” said the Banker. “In fact, I am very sure of it. We will go up to my home for dinner. I want you to meet my family and rest from your trip, while my agents are preparing for your needs.”
“I do not want to put your wife to any trouble ”
“I assure you it will be a pleasure.”
At dinner that day the Banker tried to explain to his wife how very important Mr. Gerome would be in the business life of New York. The little stranger, however, assured the two women that such was not at all the case.
“I have been fortunate enough,” he remarked, very quietly, “to amass in a very busy life considerable wealth. I feel that this is not mine, but is really a trust, and I am going to try and spend at least a part of it, in this city, to help uplift my less fortunate brothers and sisters. I have several ideas in my mind, like founding a day nursery and opening night schools. I want my race to rise, but while they are being elevated, they must also be helped. I would like to be remembered in New York as a philanthropist rather than a philanderer, a man of charity rather than a man of wealth. In order to learn how to help them I must first learn to know them and I am sure that Mrs. Acquoine will spend some time with me, teaching me what I ought to know about the problems of the colored race in America.”
“I will be proud to help you, and so will Florabella,” assented the proud matron, and while the daughter was silent, her eyes were mute but eloquent witnesses of her desire to be of assistance.
From that day on, Mr. Jules Gerome led the life appropriate to the richest bachelor in Harlem. He became interested in the hospitals, day nurseries, night schools and savings banks of the negro colony. He not only visited them but he carefully studied them and made handsome contributions, not only in cash, but in suggestions leading to their greater usefulness as well. He made no effort to become a social leader, but more and more his private suppers, for never over five guests, were becoming the talk and despair of Harlem aristocracy. There was such a great gulf between those who had been guests on these occasions and those who had not.
More and more frequently he appeared in public as the escort of Miss Florabella Acquoine. Small, with regular features and only the faintest color, she presented a type of beauty that only an expert would have refused to recognize as purest Caucasian. When the young couple first appeared together at the theater, all of Harlem was thrilled and pronounced themselves perfectly satisfied with the match, and after that hardly a day passed but Mr. Gerome needed the assistance of Miss Acquoine with his welfare work.
The Banker realized that matters were looking serious and wore a contented, perpetual smile. He and his wife had always had other plans for their daughter but, when it came to marrying millions, they felt that their own desires could be set aside. In fact, they believed that there was no need of making any change in their arrangements, simply include the wealthy Frenchman in them.
He had several lengthy interviews with the Powerful Ones in a Wall Street office and then felt ready to go over the entire matter with the man he hoped to make his son-in-law.
MR. JULES GEROME had been in New York three months, when he called, by appointment, on Mr. Morosco Acquoine. Both men were immaculately dressed. Without hesitation, the Banker opened the conversation.
“My wife tells me that you are paying more and more attention to my daughter.”
“I will have to admit it,” replied the smiling young man.
“Are your intentions serious?”
“I have every reason to believe that the future will show that they are.”
“Suppose I should ask you to stop? What if I told you that my idea was to have her marry a white man?”
“That would be foolish. No respectable white man would marry her knowing what she was. She is a lovely child, but she has the drop of blood in her — you have the drop — so has your wife. Sooner or later her husband would find it out and divorce her.”
“We can separate her from us. We can send her over the line — she can marry white and no one will ever know.”
Gerome shook his head.
“Do not think of doing that. It would mean a life of isolation from all her loved ones. She may pretend to be white, but some day they will find her out. I have longed to go over the line but so far I have stood by my people. You know I could pass any day and anywhere as pure white. Now if we only were white, that would be a different matter.”
“Suppose ” and the Banker hesitated to continue in a whisper. “Suppose I knew a way by which the three of us and you can actually become white. Would you join us?”
“That sounds impossible to me, but it is what I have wanted all my life. Yes, I would go with you.” “Would you marry my daughter?”
“Why — I have not even talked of love to her. She would have to be consulted — it is hard to tell about the future. But this thing you propose is a dream, a fantasy.”
“No! It is real.”
“I do not believe it.”
“Will you promise secrecy?”
“I would promise anything to be white.”
“Then listen to me. Five years ago a group of our race discovered a source of gold. You observe that I say source — and I use that word because I do not know any other to use — but, whether they found the gold or whether they made it, the fact is that they are not one of the rich groups of the world, but the richest. They made up their minds to own New York, but their color was an insuperable barrier to such ambition. Then they added to their combination a brilliant physician. He discovered something, I don’t know what, not being a scientist, but it was something that turns a black man, or a brown man, white. So this group changed the color of a selected number of brilliantly educated, capable colored men and women, supplied them with unlimited funds and started them in a quiet fight to make New York a colored city. When the time comes, every negro in the world, irrespective of his brains, will be turned white. I have talked with the Powerful Ones and have received permission for the four of us to be changed. I will sell all my interests here, and then we will take the treatment and make a trip around the world. When we return, it will be with new names, new interests and new ambitions. We will be white, not just pretended white, but actually white. We will join those who for the last five years have been leaders in this movement, that will make the city of New York our city and will finally transform an entire race.”
“I am astonished!” cried Mr. Jules Gerome, nervously fingering the white carnation in his lapel. “I am astonished, but not really surprised. I heard rumors of this in Indo-China. Do you suppose that I can be of any help — in any way?”
“I believe so. In fact I know that you have been under observation. No doubt you will be finally admitted to the inner circle of the Powerful Ones — after you have shown that you are worthy of trust.”
Gerome appeared to be lost in deep thought. Finally he said: “They seem to have a lot of money, but just in order to show them that we are deeply interested, you tell them we will give them twenty million, five million for each of us, the day we receive the treatment. That sum ought to help a little with the work; at least it will be a proof to them of our deep sincerity.”
“But can you spare that sum?”
“I can part with ten times that if I wanted to,” was the nonchalant answer.
“And you will go to Paris with us — with my wife and daughter?”
“If that is what they want me to do, I see no use of protesting?”
“I shall tell them of your decision and your offer.” “Do so at once. Now that I have arrived at the decision I can hardly wait. I see now how I can make my wealth and position in life worth something. I will return to Indo-China and make that a white spot on the face of Asia.”
“And you will take Florabella with you?”
“If we are married I do not see how I can keep her away from me.”
The two men parted that night, each thoroughly satisfied with the way destiny was shaping his life.
HIGH above the rest of New York towered the Center Internationale. At the ground it rested on four city squares. For fifty stories it reared its colossal bulk without contraction, then it gradually became smaller for thirty more stories. From there it rose, a gorgeous spire of flashing windows and coppered frame work for twenty additional levels, ending in a golden serpent.
The lower half was tenanted by lawyers, physicians and business firms of all description. The upper half was generally supposed to be occupied by an ultrafashionable club, concerning which there was much rumored and little known.
The battery of elevators ran from the first to the fiftieth floor. That floor was unoccupied by tenants, being merely a large lobby. Those having the right to enter the upper half evidently knew how to do so but the modus operandi was not apparent.
Mr. Jules Gerome, being told over the telephone that the time had come for the long anticipated meeting with the leaders of this new movement, those mysterious unknowns called by Mr. Morosco Acquoine, THE POWERFUL ONES, passed the night in writing and meditation. His correspondence consisted of a lengthy report covering his entire knowledge up to that time — and a short letter of affection to his wife and daughters. His meditation was mainly concerning his real belief in the doctrine of predestination. As a proper beginning to the new day he strolled out after breakfast and purchased two dozen red carnations. Twenty-three of these he neatly decapitated, placing the heads in his various pockets, while he put the twenty-fourth in his button-hole. Passing down the Avenue he was almost run into by a subservient, whining Serbian, who asked him if he did not want to buy a puppy. The whining of the little dogs stung his memory like a lash and he asked if the man had a jet black one.
The man had one but the breed was not suitable for an aristocratic French Colonial, so after some argument Gerome continued his walk, while the Serbian hailed a Yellow Cab and disappeared; but in his basket, under the puppies, were a red carnation and two letters.
That noon Mr. Jules Gerome lunched tete-a-tete with Miss Florabella Acquoine. The table was decorated with pink carnations, from which the dapper millionaire renewed his wilted boutonniere. He also, in an absent minded manner, pulled the stems of others of the flowers, placing the flowers in his pocket. Florabella was deliciously vivacious, while her escort was quietly adoring in his aristocratic mood. Anyone could tell, just by watching them, that they were very happy in their anticipatory dreams.
Going out to his automobile Gerome dropped the head of a red carnation. As the car passed through Harlem he tossed, now and then, a flower through the open window.
“Please stop that,” pleaded Florabella. “You make me nervous. If they were only smaller they would seem like drops of blood you scatter in your path.”
Mr. Jules Gerome patted her hand and told her not to worry. He left her at her father’s home, promising to call for the three of them promptly at five-thirty that evening.
At that time the four of them entered the Acquoine car, the women dressed in the height of fashion, the evening clothes of the men somber black, only accentuating the gorgeous elegance of the jewels and furs worn by their ladies. Their clothing indicated a night of pleasure, their manner an evening of apprehensive gloom. They left their car at the Center Internationale, and walked to one of the express elevators which went to the fiftieth floor without a stop. As he entered the elevator, Gerome dropped several carnations on the floor.
Leaving the elevator, the party entered the floor which marked the separation between the two parts of the building. Here long rows of marble columns separated the large floor into several plazas, the outer of which, open to the air, were being used as roof gardens, open-air restaurants and dancing pavilions. The floor was thronged with hundreds of men and women, whose dress and general manner marked them as leaders in the aristocracy of the world.
Passing into one of the restaurants, Mr. Morosco Acquoine beckoned to the head-waiter, gave him his name and stated that he had ordered supper served in a private room. The head-waiter remembered the order perfectly and led them to a small dining-room, just large enough for four. Here supper was served, and the doors closed.
None of the party seemed to have much appetite.
The conversation did not approach the brilliancy of the glassware.
As they ate, Gerome noticed, or thought he noticed, a slight shifting of the entire room. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the sensations which came to him from different parts of his body. Finally he decided that his first suspicion was correct.
The private dining room was simply a camouflaged elevator.
While they were eating their supper, they were being slowly carried upward. Gerome shrugged his shoulders and kept quiet. He did not want to have two hysterical females to care for.
Now and then the door opened and another course was served.
Finally, after the ice and coffee, the door was again opened and the same obsequious head-waiter who had ushered them into the room, appeared to usher them out.
They walked out of the room into a different world. The two women were asked to wait in a tiny parlor; the men were asked to follow the waiter.
In a few seconds they found themselves in what seemed to be a business office. Around a small mahogany table sat five white men. There were three empty chairs.
Mr. Morosco Acquoine and Mr. Jules Gerome were given seats. The remaining chair remained unoccupied.
Cigars were passed. Acquoine took one and started to smoke in an agitated manner. Gerome refused with a blase, but polite gesture.
“I do not smoke,” he said quietly to the stranger at his side, “I found out years ago, that it injures the pearly luster of my teeth. I have been through many hardships in my life, but I have always tried to take the best care possible of my teeth. Once gone they can never be replaced.”
The man he addressed looked at him as though he did not hear a word he said. Then a gong sounded in a neighboring room. Again and again it boomed with a gentle but positive rhythm. Gerome started to dig long forgotten sounds out of his sub-conscious memories. Suddenly he recalled an evening, floating down the Congo, in a native dug-out — He sat just a little straighter in his chair, saying to himself, between motionless lips: “By all that’s holy! That is the tom-tom.”
HE looked at the men seated around the table.
Without exception they seemed to be autocrats of the business world, cultural leaders, Chesterfields; yet all of them were gently moving their heads and bodies in harmony with the rhythm of the drum-beat, and no one spoke till the throbbing waves of sound ceased to invade the deep silence of the room. Then, and then only did one of the older men speak, in perfect English, with well chosen words and a pronunciation that could only have been gained at Oxford.
“We are so glad to have you gentlemen with us this evening. It means so much to us. When Mr. Morosco Acquoine decided to join us we looked on it as the usual thing for a man of his position to do, but when you,, Mr. Jules Gerome, not only threw your lot in with ours, but in addition offered us twenty million for propaganda purposes, we considered it an event. It is very unusual for a man like you, with your boundless wealth and great influence, to freely offer such a gift: in fact, Sir, it is a magnificent gesture, and one for which you will be well repaid. I am sure that nothing but the most deadly hatred of the white race could have impelled you to take such an important step. May we ask the details leading up to that hatred?”
“I will be glad to tell you about it. I was but a mere slip of a lad in Indo-China, just a bit of a boy, when I had a difference of opinion with an overseer. Unable to conquer me in a fair fight, he secured help, had me thrown to the ground and then kicked me in the face, knocking out several of my teeth. So extensive was the damage, that I have to wear a rather large upper plate, which I will now show you, as proof that the sordid tale is true.” Mr. Gerome placed before them, on the polished surface of the mahogany table, an upper plate, left it there for a full minute and then replaced it.
“I felt confident,” continued the first speaker, “that something like this had happened to you. I am sure that it makes us more willing than ever to admit you to our councils. As we have some moments to spend before this other chair is occupied, I will take the opportunity of explaining to you very thoroughly just what we are doing and how we are doing it.
“You no doubt are thoroughly familiar with the effort made throughout the world to advance the interests of our race. England freed her slaves by purchase, while the United States made them free, solely as a political movement, to enable the Northern States to win the Civil War. After that war, various efforts were made by well meaning individuals and organizations to help the negro rise economically but never socially. Throughout the white world, but especially among the Nordic peoples, the -Caucasians could never forget that they were white and the negro was black, just as if the matter of color made any vital difference. That was the way they felt — we produced poets, playwrights, musicians, authors of no mean ability — and while we were made much of — they could never forget that we were black. Ten years ago a few of us gave up the effort, and looked for a way of escape — not from our race — but from our color. A peculiar and fortunate combination of circumstances made some of us feel that the hand of God was in it and behind it, though no doubt our enemies more likely call it the claw of the Devil.
“We were fortunate in securing the aid of a chemist and a physician who was more of a scientist than a doctor. We pooled our finances, established, after the greatest effort, a fund of over a million dollars and handed it to these two men. Somehow they were to produce wealth and whiteness. We believed at the time that white bodies were useless without wealth and that wealth was of no avail with discolored epidermis.
“These two men toiled, but it was a labor of love. Within a year they had expended the million. We raised another million. We sold all we had, borrowed all we could, stole as we might, and then we worked. One of us was a Pullman porter, another a valet, and one even worked as a street cleaner. Living on almost nothing, we gave our combined income to the cause. At the end of three years the chemist produced a few diamonds, but the market could not absorb enough of such stones to satisfy our ambitions, and we urged him to concentrate upon gold. To our great satisfaction he succeeded, not in making it, but in extracting it. You no doubt are aware that there is gold everywhere, even in the air, but in such minute quantities as to make it commercially valueless. Our chemist invented a means of separating it from the ocean. The details are of no interest to you at this time, but we built a yacht with a twelve-inch pipe running through it to a central laboratory and then,to the stern of the ship. The water simply ran through the ship, while the chemist smoked his pipe and the Captain kept one eye on the weather. Periodically they came to port and unloaded their cargo — a most interesting performance, as far as we were concerned. Of course we put the gold to work; idle wealth is useless to everyone. The money was invested and reinvested till the original source was concealed by all the changes, and then it was brought to America.
“We had no trouble in buying anything we wanted to buy. I assure you that selling a man something for actual cash and meeting him socially are two different things, especially if one man is a negro, anyway we bought stocks, bonds, real estate, and in some cases even secured control of railroads, but even though we were the owners, we could not elect the officers, or even the directors; we had to keep our activities covered.
“We spent a lot of money in education; every young man of promise, with clear complexion and regular features was sent to Europe to be developed along some distinct line that would be of benefit to us if we ever could become white. You can easily understand that we were in a position to buy a city, even buy New York itself, if only we could become white: that is what we hoped our scientist would accomplish — and he did.
“For centuries there has been a disease known to dermatologists as vitiligo or leukoderma — but perhaps it would be better to let Dr. Semon tell you the story. He deserves all the credit for it — it is his discovery, and he can explain just what it means better than I can. Dr. Semon, will you kindly continue elucidating the narrative?”
“With pleasure,” replied that gentleman, “and I trust that I shall be able to put it into plain language so our friend can follow the thread of the argument. You see the difference between the negro and the white is mainly a matter of pigment and the medical literature showed that now and then, very rarely it is true, but often enough to cause scientific attention, the pigment of a black man disappeared, leaving him white. Levi, the Parisian, described three such cases in 1865; Hall, of Louisville, reported a case, while many others have occurred in the West Indies. My task is to find out just what happened in such a case to take the pigment out of the skin and keep it out. Some investigators thought it was a complication of syphilis, while others considered it to be due to a disturbance of the glands of internal secretion. That was my problem — and I am happy to say that I solved it — after many sleepless nights. My first cases were of the criminal class and several of them, killed under unpleasant circumstances, attracted the attention of the Secret Service. After that we were more careful of our cases and avoided any further notoriety. To put it briefly, I developed something like a serum. The dose was rather bulky at first and the serum needed at least three months to finish its work, but now five drops, given through a hypodermic needle, turns a black man white in twenty-four hours. In the ease of an octoroon with regular features, the final result is perfect — almost too perfect. I often advise several weeks at the seashore to add a coat of tan.
“When we knew that we had a treatment that we could depend upon, we were able to advance more rapidly. All of our brilliantly educated men received the serum and were at once given positions of trust in the various corporations we owned. The women we treated were married to white men and used as spies, and it is only fair to state that not one of them in any way betrayed the trust we placed in them. Over a thousand of our comrades have been white for some time.
“We built this building and called it the Center Internationale. The first fifty floors are rented to the public but, from that level on, admission is only granted to our comrades. You will be interested in the use we make of these upper fifty floors. There are offices, laboratories and store rooms, and most important, our Temple, where two thousand of our race can worship or meet in our fortnightly consultations. We run our business according to the most approved methods: for example, we have over ten million of our race in America thoroughly card indexed.
“Naturally you will want to know something of our plans for social equality. While we do not encourage it, we have not taken any definite steps against intermarriages with the white race. If one of our intelligentsia is turned white and he wants to marry a white woman, we permit the marriage. Of course they have had and will have children of mixed blood but our, physicians inject one drop’ of serum into the child at birth and any tendency to develop pigment is at once checked. As I told you before, our converted white women are encouraged to marry into the Caucasian race so they can become spies. As our men and women are always wealthy, they have had no difficulty in contracting suitable marriages. For example, one of our women is the daughter-in-law of Mr. B. Bailey Biddle, the President of the New York Bankers’ Association. As my interest is wholly with the development and use of the serum, I will stop talking and let some one else take over the story of our plans.”
The first speaker now resumed the thread of conversation.
“Now you can understand, Mr. Jules Gerome, that, with unlimited gold at our command and a positive method of destroying the pigment in the skin, the only question remaining to be solved was how far we should go and whether we should take any steps to make the entire negro race white. This has been very carefully considered by the gentlemen you have met tonight, who are known in our organization as The Powerful Ones. Our final decision and the plans for ’ putting them into operation will be explained to you at this time by our Mr. Koons.”
And at once a dignified looking man, seated next to Mr. Morosco Acquoine, began to tell his part of the plans.
“T WAS selected for this work, Mr. Gerome, because 1 I had had some experience as an organizer. Several negro organizations, such as the one known to white folks as ‘The Sons and Daughters of I Will Arise,’ owed their beginning and popularity to my efforts. Naturally it was not at all hard to weld the negroes of the United States into a compact, well functioning secret society, especially when they found that there was no expense attached to membership, but finally there would come a white skin and social equality. Our organization contains practically every negro in the States, well divided into small Lodges and each Lodge has either a physician, a dentist, or a nurse capable of giving a hypodermic. After we made up our minds to extend the benefit of a white skin to the entire negro race, it became necessary to prepare over ten million hypodermics, each loaded with the five drops of serum necessary to decolorize one person. These have been packed up into small packages, each bundle containing enough doses to care for the membership of one Lodge. Each bundle is carefully labeled. Their distribution begins to-morrow morning. We will allow enough time for all the packages to be delivered; then all over the States, on the last day of the year, these hypodermics will be emptied under the skins of ten million negroes. On the next day, the first of January, in town, city and country, on sugar plantation and stock-yard, our race in this part of the world will become white. Do you see the idea of choosing that day?”
“Indeed I do!” replied Gerome, enthusiastically. “It will be a new year, the first day of a new life for the race.”
“That is partly correct, but remember that it was on this day that Lincoln issued the final decree of his famous Emancipation Proclamation, giving liberty to our race. On the same day we will give them white skins. Of course we cannot at this time fully realize the disturbance that this will cause those who think they are the actual rulers of this country. No doubt they will be considerably agitated. But what can they do? They cannot kill us: in a large proportion of the cases they will not even be able to recognize us, any more than they have been able to identify the thousand of us in New York City. We expect some trouble and are prepared for it. In fact the fifty-first floor of this building is a carefully prepared arsenal. We have enough trench mortars and high explosives there to do so much damage that just the mere threat will make the leaders of this city willing to agree to any compromise.
“Once these millions of negroes are made white, we will start them in business. With white skins, unlimited capital and boundless ambition, they will easily secure control of the commerce of the nation. We will fill Congress with them. The whites will elect a President, a white President, but he will be one of our race. If a man can be elected a Senator by spending half a million, we can elect a President by spending two hundred million. With the States in our control we will go on and conquer the world.”
“It is an ambitious programme,” said Jules Gerome. “I am glad that I am considered worthy of having a part in its execution.”
“One more thing,” said the man who, up to that time had been silent. “I am the man who planned this building. Normally there is ample communication between the upper and the lower half, but by my side is a button. I press that button and that communication is destroyed. Every stairway is blocked, every elevator out of commission. At the present time there are over a thousand of our comrades worshipping in our temple. I press this button and they stay in the upper half till I press it again. They cannot even get out through the windows. We have enough food for a prolonged stay. Of course an army could eventually conquer us, but in doing so, it would destroy the richest part of the city. The point that
I wanted to make is that when I press the button, as I am doing now, no one can either enter or leave this part of the building.”
“How interesting,” murmured Mr. Jules Gerome. “And now,” said the first speaker, “we have confided freely to you our hopes and ambitions. What is your opinion of the programme?”
“Stupendous!”
“Are there any questions you wish to aBk us?” “Yes. Why did you go so freely into all these details? It seemed to me that you wanted me to know all about everything.”
“We wanted to tell you about it, because we were sure that you would never betray us.”
“Your confidence in me touches me deeply.”
“We know that you will never reveal anything to any of our enemies.”
“I am pleased that you think so highly of my integrity.”
“I am sure that the future will show us that we were not mistaken.”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Then we will go on with the evening’s work. As you are a new brother, we wish to present you with a bouquet of flowers. Have you any choice?”
“None at all.”
The man reached under the table and handed him some flowers.
“Then in the name of our cause, we, ‘The Powerful Ones’ present you with a dozen red carnations.
Gerome took them with a slight bow.
“I thank you," he replied. “A very appropriate selection.”
“We also wish to give you a small animal, a mascot, an emblem of our race.” He clapped his hands and at the signal a subservient, whining Serbian entered the room and handed him a black puppy.
Mr. Jules Gerome took the trembling puppy in his hands, and rubbed his cold nose against his cheek.
Then he put it into the warm protection of his Tuxedo pocket.
“I thank you for the little fellow,” he said softly. “I have always been fond of dogs, especially little ones. And now what?”
Just then a door opened and there entered the room...
GEROME heard the shuffling of footsteps behind him, but he did not turn his head to see who was there. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a hand coming over his shoulder, a large hand in a kid glove, and in the hand were two envelopes. These were dropped on the table in front of him. Gerome recognized them — one his report, the other the letter to his wife.
“The game is over, Mr. Taine,” whispered a velvety voice in his ear.
“I am half inclined to agree with you,” replied Taine of San Francisco, putting the two envelopes in his pocket.
Then the shuffling continued — toward the direction of the empty chair.
Taine looked straight in front of him, but Mr. Morosco Acquoine collapsed, almost fainting in his chair. He had seen the occupant of the chair before that person had come into the vision of Taine.
In fact Taine was thinking so fast and so hard that for a few seconds he was not looking at anything. Then the velvety voice broke the silence.
“Mr. Taine, will you please look at me. I want to talk to you and it is difficult to talk to anyone who does not seem to pay attention. In fact I am not used to being ignored.”
Taine took a deep breath, turned his face and looked at the occupant of the chair.
“Are you not rather surprised, Mr. Taine?”
“I certainly am,” replied Taine, of San Francisco, and he really was.
For in the chair sat a woman — a well formed, rather beautiful woman, in a white satin gown, embroidered with pearls and spangles. She had on long white gloves, which reached above her elbows, but the upper arms were bare.
A golden coronet set with diamonds circled her brow. But the thing that had surprised Taine was not her sex, but her color.
She was jet black. She smiled at Taine, and for the first time in his life, Taine was afraid. Then she started to talk,
“All great organizations, Mr. Taine, must have a religion to hold their units together. We recognized this early in our history and as even the best of us were only a few hundred years from Africa, we decided that some type of Voodoo worship would appeal most to our followers. Of course nominally we are Catholics, or Episcopalians or Baptists, but when we worship in the Temple, we bow down before the serpent and I am proud to be the High Priestess. Our particular representation of the God is over thirty feet long, and at present is restless and rather hungry. It is a species of boa constrictor; you will recall that they do not bite, but slowly squeeze their morsel of food and then swallow it whole. This particular boa is very fond of detectives, having developed that taste, from the fact that fate made it possible for him to swallow four in the last two years. Naturally, with a hungry divinity, it is the duty of his Priestess to satisfy that hunger, and we will try to do so to-night. The first part of our worship is drawing to a close but there are still some ceremonies to be attended to before we show the snake to his people and appease his appetite — for detectives. We will ask you to walk into the adjoining bathroom and remain there. When we are ready for you we will call you. You will find the window securely barred. The revolver you have in your pocket is useless, your valet having filled it to-day with blank cartridges. I trust that you will occupy your time well — you might take a bath— Ouroboros always likes his food clean.”
“Just one moment before I go,” said Taine. “I am not a very well educated man, and I may not see this thing clearly, but I want to say a few things that happened to come to me as I sat here this evening listening to you talk. In the first place, Madam, I want to ask you a question — When you had the ability to become white, why have you stayed black?”
The woman laughed.
“Why should I want to be white — when I hate them so? I appreciate the way my brethren feel about it — perhaps I would feel that way had I a drop of white blood in my body, but as far as I know I am black — and I am so proud of that as though I were born white. I hate the white race — I want to crush them — I am willing to do all I can to make the black race white, if that is what most of them want, but personally I am perfectly satisfied with my color. I hate white people too much to be one myself.”
“You need not worry, Madam,” replied Taine, coolly. “Because you have shown me to-night something that I always felt, and am now sure of. Your race can change the color of their skins but they cannot change the color of their souls. No matter how white they may become, they will always remain black inside. When the tom-tom sounded a while ago these white men of education and refinement and wealth swayed in their chairs and inside them their souls fell at your feet to worship you and your snake. I have seen that sort of thing on the Congo. A sea of whitewash cannot change you. The race was made black and will stay black.
“It is not for me to say that you have not been wronged. No doubt you have, for thousands of years, but two wrongs never made a right and if you are trying to get what is due you, you are working in the wrong way to solve the problem. You are not really trying for justice, but for revenge. You may turn the black man white but ultimately he will remain — just — a — nigger.”
“I ought to kill you for that last word — but I do not want to take away the pleasure my followers have looked forward to all fall. Gentlemen, see that Mr. Taine is securely locked in the bathroom, but do not tie him in any way. I want him to take a bath if he cares to.”
Taine walked around the table to Mr. Aquoine.
“I am sorry your plans did not work out according to your dreams. Be sure to give my kind regards to Florabella and tell her that being a detective is a hard life, even at the best.”
Then he took Dr. Semon’s arm and walked to the bathroom. As he entered, he turned and looked at the black woman.
“I remember you now, Madam. Ever since I saw you I knew that I had seen you before, sometime in my past. You used to be called Ebony Kate, in the old days of San Francisco, before the fire. You were wise in not trying the serum. If they injected a barrel of it into you, they couldn't change the color of your skin or of your soul.”
“I suppose,” said the woman, smiling, “that you are trying to get me to kill you right now. Shoot you or strangle you. You are trying to see if you can make me mad. Well you fail. That’s what you do. So shut the door and think about things while you have time and when ready, we will come for you.”
Taine went into the room and they locked the door behind him.
HE walked noiselessly around the little room, apparently deep in thought but in reality making a careful examination of every detail of the room’s construction. He was still occupied with this task when he saw the door open. The woman he had called Ebony Kate stood in the doorway.
“I just had to come back, Mr. Taine. I just couldn’t go on with it, without giving you a chance. The other men were cowards, but you — anyone could see that you don’t know what fear is. You is just the man I’se been alooking for. I wants you and wants you bad. Our Doctor has another drug and we have tried it enough to know that it works. It turns a white man black — black like I am. You take the serum and come and live with me. I am tired of this game here and I’ll be glad to quit. I can buy any place you want — a whole island in the Pacific if you say so —youse and I would be Gods among those islanders. That’s what I came back to offer you — all the gold you want, and me.”
“Why not go and buy a black man?”
“I don’t want that kind. I'se want a man which has a white man’s mind and a black man’s skin. I has lived for three years monst these converted blacks and the dope didn’t do a thing to their souls. You ought to see how they act — down in the temple — when snakey and me puts on our show. White? Why the only thing white about them is their skins. You take a shot and pull out with me.”
“It is my personal opinion,” replied Taine, “that you do not know what you want or what is good for you any more than the others do. The only thing I admire in you is your desire to stay as God made you — and your nerve. It must take a lot of nerve for you to pull off that kind of a show — and get away with it.” The woman turned and walked to the door of the large room, the one with the mahogany table in it. Just before she passed through the doorway, she turned.
“Quite natural for you to turn me down — but I was meaning it. Of course I might have known — after you saw that I was Ebony Kate — I might have known then that it was useless for me to come back. Still, you give me credit for trying to save your life, and I could have done it — been an easy job to pick up a white man to take your place. Make yourself comfortable. I am going to lock you in here instead of the bathroom — youse can’t get out anyway. Goodbye — youse can’t blame anyone for this ’cept yourself.”
“Oh, that is all right. A word of advice. Why not learn to talk good English when you are excited instead of that horrible dialect?”
Instead of answering, the woman shut and locked the door.
Taine went over to the door and tested it. No doubt about it being locked. Then he went over and sat down at the table, in the chair where the main speaker of the evening had sat. Taine started to think out loud.
“Just as well that I won’t make a report. No one would believe me — think I was insane. What a story! This is a great life — if you don’t weaken. A lot of those thousand may be in earnest, but I judge that the leaders are a lot of high class criminals — well educated — but none the less crooks — smart, though — look at the way they played with me— told me everything and knew all the time it was perfectly safe. By the Seven Sacred Caterpillars! Here is a telephone right at my elbow. Hullo! Give me Rhinelander 100 — Is this police headquarters? Hell! That was Dr. Semon talking to me. Might have known they were just playing with me.”
He looked at the table. There was something about a button. If the man pressed a button no one could leave the upper half of the building. Now if only he could press that button, and then tear the wire — he would have them all prisoners even if they did kill him — and there was— no! not one button, but ten, in a row — all alike. He looked at them carefully, moving his chair closer to the table — and as he did so, his toe struck a projection — under the thick carpet.
Pulling the carpet to one side he saw a circular plate. What he had struck with his toe was the iron handle in the center of the plate. When he lifted the plate he simply saw a hole, with sides of polished metal. It was hard to tell how deep the tube was or where it ended. It was even difficult to imagine where it ended. Taine took a silver dollar out of his pocket and tossed it in. A whining sound came from the void which grew fainter till it ended in silence.
“I think I will try it!” exclaimed Taine. “Anything is better than to stay here. But first I will load my revolver. That was a good idea to carry some car tridges in my shoe heel... . Now that is done.... I feel better. I am willing to take any chance to keep that snake from eating this poor little puppy sleeping so calmly in my pocket — I personally do not think they have a snake large enough to eat a man — but a dog — that is different. Now if only I could tell which button to press. Suppose I press them all? Press them all and then jump into the tube; and jump quick too — no telling what will happen if I press all ten. I would like to stay here and see just what does happen, but I feel that no matter what is at the other end of the tube, I am safer there — than here. I will press every button, throw the table to one side, tearing all the wires from the buttons and then Fido and I will see what is at the other end of the tube.”
He pressed against each button — firmly.
Then he turned the table over, tearing the copper wires away from the buttons.
Then he went, feet first, into the polished tube.
He went down, but it was not unpleasant.
He had an idea that he was going around in a spiral.
Suddenly he dropped out on a well padded floor — into a well lighted room. It was evidently a bedroom. A mulatto girl in maid’s dress sat sewing by a dressing table. Taine had her covered with his revolver a second before she saw him.
“Who lives here?” he asked, in a whisper.
“Madam Octavia,” she replied, shaking with fright.
“The black woman?”
“Yes.”
Making her go in front of him, he walked over to a window and ordered her to open it. He saw that they were on the second floor. Several blocks away the illumined spire of the Center Internationale rose towering in graceful bulk toward the foggy sky.
And even as he looked, a dull roar made the floor shake under Taine’s feet. Fire burst out like a volcano from the middle of the hundred story building. The upper fifty stories writhed in a useless effort to leap into the air, trembled, and then fell, crumpling, twisting, turning like a tortured, dying animal — fell slowly — down — down — until it came to rest in the ruins of the buildings it crushed in its doom.
Taine shivered.
The mulatto, unconscious, lay at his feet.
The black puppy whined in the Tuxedo pocket and rubbed his wet nose against Taine’s hand.
The San Francisco detective walked out of the apartment and down to the ground. As fast as he could, he walked away from that part of the city. In fact he went back to the apartment that had been his home for all those months of life as Mr. Jules Gerome. He was not afraid of his valet — in fact he very correctly judged that he would not have any trouble with him — just now.
From the apartment, he telephoned to Mr. Biddle and to Gray, Chief of the Secret Service of the city. They came to see him, and listened to his story. As they listened, they looked at the puppy, eagerly lapping cream from a saucer of solid gold.
“And now,” said Taine, finishing, “if you have no objections, I will take an express for San Francisco. I have been away so long from my family that I naturally am quite anxious to see them. You can send me a check for any sum you think the job was worth to you."