"Dammit!" exclaimed Glavis suddenly. "It _isn't_ all my fault or the old man's or my wife's! It's Orlean's!"

"Well," agreed Baptiste, thoughtfully, "on the whole, that is so."

"Of course it is! If Orlean was a woman she would be right out there with you now where she belongs!"

"And I agree with you again, Glavis. But Orlean isn't a woman, and that is what I have been trying to make her. She has never been a woman--wasn't reared so to be. By nature she is like her mother, and she has grown up according to her training."

"She cannot be two things at the same time," Glavis argued, "and that is a daughter to her father and a wife to you!"

"No, that is where the difficulty lay," said Baptiste. "But her father's influence over her is great, you will admit. She has been taught to agree with him, and that--I can never, nor will I try to do."

"It certainly beats hell!"

"It's the most awkward situation I have ever been placed in. But here's the idea: I took that girl for better or for worse. Now, what am I to do? Throw up my hands and quit, or try to see Orlean and get her around to reason? It isn't Orlean. It's her father. So I have concluded to make some sort of a fight. Life and marriage are too serious just to let matters go like this."

"Yes, it is," agreed Glavis. "It certainly worries me. And it annoys me because it is so unnecessary." He was thoughtful and then suddenly he said:

"I'm sorry you let the old man--er--ah--get you mixed up like this." He appeared as if he wished to say more. To say that: "For when you let him get into it, the devil would be to pay! Keep him out of your affairs if you would live in peace."

"Well," said Baptiste, rising, "your time here belongs to the company you are working for, and not to me or my troubles. So I'm going to 'beat' it now out to Thirty-first Street."

"Well," returned Glavis, "believe me, Baptiste, I'm sorry for you, and for Orlean. It's rotten." It was remarkable how he saw what was causing it; but how he cleverly kept from directly accusing his father-in-law.

"And I'll meet you at Thirty-first Street after supper. At the Keystone, remember." With that he grasped the other's hand warmly, and as Jean Baptiste went down the stairway from where Glavis worked, he knew that he had a friend who at least wanted to help right a most flagrant wrong.

The only question was, would E.M. Glavis have the courage to go through with it?

Well, Glavis might have the courage--_but Ethel was his wife. And Jean Baptiste realized that of all things in the world, a woman's influence is the most subtle._

CHAPTER IV

THE GAMBLER'S STORY

The keystone was the oldest and most elite hostelry for Negroes in Chicago and the West for many years. It is located near Thirty-first and State Street, in the heart of the black belt of the southside of the city. It was built previous to the World's Fair and still maintains its prestige as the most popular hangout for Negroes of the more ostentatious set. And it was here that Jean Baptiste went, following his departure with Glavis.

When Chicago was a "wide open" town, gambling had been carried on upstairs as a business. Porters, waiters, barbers and politicians who held the best jobs had always found their way eventually to the Keystone. Likewise did the Negroes in business and the professions and workers in all the trades, as well as mail carriers, mail clerks, and the men of the army and actors. In short the Keystone was the meeting place for men in nearly all the walks of life.

Always the freest city in the world for the black man, Chicago has the most Negroes in the mail service and the civil service; more Negroes carry clubs as policemen; more can be found in all the departments of the municipal courts, county commissioners, aldermen, corporation counsels, game warden assistants, and so on down. Indeed, a Negro feels freer and more hopeful in Chicago than anywhere else in the United States.

So it was such a crowd that Jean Baptiste encountered at the Keystone that day. There were two real estate men who had once run on the road with him and who had since succeeded in business; also there was another who was a county commissioner; and still another one, an army officer.

So, upon seeing him they did all cry:

"Baptiste! Well, well, of all things! And how do you happen to be down here in the spring?"

"Oh, a little business," he returned, and joined with the crowd, bought a drink for them all, and was apparently jolly.

Among the number was a gambler by the name of Speed. He shook the visitor's hand heartily, and when the visit with the others was over, he went to a table and, sitting down, beckoned for Baptiste. When the other responded, he begged him to be seated, and then said:

"Now, I know what you are down here about--heard about it the day he brought her home." Baptiste regarded him wonderingly. "Yes, I understand," he said, making himself comfortable as if to tell a long story. "You are wondering how _I_ come to understand about your father-in-law, and if you are not in a hurry, I'll tell you a little story."

"Well," said the other, "let's have a drink before you start."

"I don't care," and he beckoned to the bartender.

"Small bottle, a Schlitz," he said, and turned to Baptiste.

"Make it two," said the other, and turned to hear the story the other had to tell.

"It happened fifteen years ago," began Speed when their beer had been served. "I was a preacher then.--Hold on," he broke off at the expression on Baptiste's face.

"Yes, of course you can hardly believe it; but I was then a preacher. I was the pastor of the church in a little town, and I won't tell the name of the town; but it's all the same, I was a preacher and pastor of this church. I had not been long ordained, and was ambitious to succeed as a minister. The charge had not been long created, and was, of course, not much of a place for money. But it so happened that a quarry was opened about the time I was sent there and it brought some hundred and fifty Negro families to live in the town, and in almost a twinkling, my charge became from among the poorest, to one of the best from a financial point of view. The men worked steadily and were paid well, and their families found quite a bit of work to do among the wealthy whites of the town.

"There were two young ladies living a few doors from where I preached, girls who made their own living, honestly, nice, clean girls, and I was much impressed with them. I sought, and finally succeeded in getting them interested in the church, and later began keeping company with one.

Now here is where your folks come in. The Reverend McCarthy--old Mac, I called him, was filling the same line he now is, Presiding Elder, and this church was in his itinerary. I was therefore under his recommendation. He had been visiting the church regularly, holding his quarterly conference every three months, and getting his little bit. It was shortly after I had started going with this young lady that McCarthy got awful nice and treated me so good until I became suspicious. Then one day it came out.

"'By the way, Speed,' he said. 'Who're those girls living near the church?' I knew who he was referring to because I had seen him trying to smile on them the day before which had been a Sunday. But I pretends I don't know what or who he's talking about.

"'Who?' I inquired as innocent as a lamb.

"'Oh, those two girls living near the church,' and he called their names.

"'Why, they are two young ladies who came here not long ago,' I said, and waited.

"'Is _that_ all?' he asked then, and I looked at him. He grinned, and said:

"'Aw, come on, Speed! Be a good fellow. Now, _are those girls_ straight?' and he specified the one I had begun going with.

"'Why,' said I, 'Reverend McCarthy, I am surprised at you to ask such a question, or to offer such an insinuation. Besides,' I went on, 'Why?'

"'Aw, now, Speed,' he laughed easily, his big fat round face shaking.

'Be a _good_ sport and put me onto these girls. Now, I'll tell you what I want you to do,' he said, drawing his chair close to mine. 'I'll make it my business to get back over here next Sunday night, and I want you to "_fix_" it for me with that one, and--' he winked in a way I did not at the time understand--but I did later--'I'll make it _right_ with you.

You understand,' he said, rising, '_I'll make it right with you_.'

"I was never so put out in my life. Here was this man, a minister of the Gospel, and a Presiding Elder, who had just deliberately delegated me to make a _previous_ engagement for him without regard to morals--and with the girl I loved. I don't think he knew I was paying her court, but the moral was the same.

"I was outdone! But true to his words, the next Sunday night he was back!

"'Well, Speed,' he said when the services were over. 'What's the rip?

Everything O.K.?' He was very anxious, and I'll never forget his face.

But, I was afraid of the old rascal, still I hadn't lost my manhood at that. So I says:

"'Now, Reverend, you place me in a very awkward predicament. To begin with, I have the highest respect for those young ladies. And, again, even if I did not, I could not be expected to cohort as you suggested.'

"'Aw, Speed,' he cut in. 'You're no good. Pshaw! I just know the older of those two girls is not straight--am positive of it. And you could fix things if you would,' and I detected a touch of angry disappointment in his tone.

"Well, to get out of it, I told the old rascal what I thought of his suggestion and left him. I never saw him again until near conference, and then not to speak with him. I was confident that I had satisfied the people, and that I would be sent back without any argument.