CHAPTER IX.AS TO ADVENTURESSES.
Thisshould perhaps have been included under the head of the preceding chapter, for if there are any pitfalls and perils more dangerous than those laid by fair and unscrupulous members of the fairer sex we have yet to be made aware of them. The adventuresses of Chicago, however, deserve a brief and exclusive chapter, inasmuch as they constitute a separate class which might, with very great propriety, be asked to go about labeled with the initials D. F. (signifying “Dangerous Females”). Even then, however, it is safe to say, they would not want for victims, for there are some men who would run after a pretty woman if they were morally certain that the pastime would lead to their everlasting damnation.
The term adventuress is applied to women of careless reputation who, being much toosmart to endure the ignominious career of professional demi-mondaines, resort to various shrewd schemes to fleece the unwary. Some of their class work in concert with male partners and in such cases the selected victim generally becomes an easy prey. The confidence man may be dangerous; the confidence woman, if she be well educated and bright, as well as pretty, is irresistible except with the most hardened and unsusceptible customers. The shrewdest old granger of them all, who steers safely through the shoals and traps set for him by male sharpers, will go down like the clover before the scythe under a roguish glance, as it were, from a “white wench’s black eye,” as Mercutio said.
There is no mortal man in this universe of ours, be he never so homely or ill-favored, who does not cherish in his heart of hearts the impression that there is a woman or two somewhere whom he could charm if he wished to. It is the spirit of masculine vanity that forms the material upon which the adventuress may work. With the art of an expert she sizes up the dimensions of her victim’s vanity the instant she has made his acquaintance, and plays upon it to just the extent she deems expedient and profitable. If it were not for masculine vanity the American adventuress could not exist.
Suppose, for instance, that Mr. John Smith, who is a merchant in comfortable circumstances at home and quite a great man in his town, is taking a stroll down State street in the bright afternoon sunshine. He has just gotten outside of a good dinner at his hotel, prior to which he had a good shave and a cocktail—just the combination to make a well-to-do traveler with a little time on his hands feel literally “out of sight,” as the slang phrase goes. Suppose then, as John passes Marshall Field’s, he observes a magnificent creature, a royal blonde, mayhap, or a plump brunette (either will do for the sake of illustration) peeping shyly at him from beneath long silken lashes and smiling ever so slightly. Now John may be a deacon in the church at home; he may even be the father of a large family, but if he is human, and animated by the latent vanity that is the paramount trait of his sex, he will instantly experience a sensation of pleasure and attribute the strange beauty’s attention to his own long-dormant power to fascinate.
That splendid creature with her fine clothes, her exquisite complexion and her graceful bearing, an adventuress? Impossible! At least so John Smith thinks. She may even have a carriage at the curbstone into which she steps daintily, with her eyes still slyly following theamorous John. There is a delicate invitation in the glance, and if John is courageous he will—pshaw! Let us hope he won’t, for it is a dead certainty that the coy beauty is an adventuress of the deadliest and most conscienceless sort. John, who in his confiding soul has set her down as a duchess or a society queen at least, fondly imagines that it is his person of which she is enamored. We, who are better posted, know that it is his worldly wealth that she is after and that even as she gives him an attack of palpitation of the heart by her warm glance she is figuring on how she may most easily possess herself of that wealth.
The schemes of the city’s adventuresses are quite as numerous as those of the confidence man, but blackmail is their great card and the one that they play most successfully. As a rule a prosperous citizen of good reputation and standing in his own town, who misconducts himself when away from home, would rather pay any sum in reason than have his friends at home know of that dereliction. That is where the skilled adventuress makes her strong play. If she has the power to lure her victim into aliaisonshe has surely had the tact to draw from him in the two or three days they have spent together all the particulars she needs as to his relations in his own town. What a dishearteningshock it must be, must it not, to have this splendid creature, who has vowed a thousand times to the doting John Smith that she loves him for himself alone, strike him on the morning of his projected departure for home for a cool thousand dollars in cash? Of course he demurs, but when she pleasantly hints at the trip she intends to make to his town and the exposure that must necessarily follow what is to be done? Poor John Smith! He is not such a gay dog now. It gradually ends in a compromise of some sort, for the lady is seldom too exacting, and if John is inclined to be docile—to the extent of four or five hundred, maybe—she will probably be very good-natured and let it go at that.
This is the highest type of adventuress—the aristocrat of her profession. From her the types descend in grades, down to the very lowest of all, the birds of the night who prowl the streets in search of victims whom they may lure to the dens of their male accomplices, there to be vulgarly drugged or “slugged” and robbed of their portable valuables.
The “indignant husband” game is a favorite one with adventuresses of the second class, by which term is signified such fair and frail creatures as occupy a somewhat lower place in the plane of rascaldom than the fairy who reliessolely upon discreet blackmail without publicity for her means of support. This game is usually played upon very green persons for the reason that very few others would fall victims to it. The fair decoy makes the acquaintance of her quarry on the street, at a matinee or elsewhere. For the first interview she is on her good behavior, and by her repression of any approach to familiarity that her newly acquired friend may make she creates the impression that sheis a very nice and decorous person indeed—a little disposed to flirt, that is all. She does, however, write him to call upon her and of course he does so—perhaps to-day, perhaps to-morrow, but he calls, anyway. By letting fall certain artful hints she contrives to let her victim know that she is a married woman. This of course lends an added spice of interest to the adventure. The idea of poaching on forbidden ground is attractive to the dupe. So an hour passes in pleasant converse, and in the natural course of events the Caller becomes sentimental. This much accomplished, he is hers, so to speak. At the very moment that the poor victim is congratulating himself upon his conquest there is a thundering knock at the door.
“My God!” screams the lady, with the dramatic intensity of a Bernhardt, “My husband!”
The startled fly in her net squirms in his seat. Who would not, situated as he is? “What is to be done?” he asks weakly.
“Hide! hide!” says the poor “wife” frenziedly and straightway rushes him into a convenient closet. The “husband” enters and, singularly enough, finds no difficulty in discovering the interloper’s hiding-place. He is gruffly ordered to come out and as like as not finds himself looking down the barrel of a big revolver.
Of course he is willing to make any sort ofsettlement in order to escape with a whole skin. If he has no currency the “husband’s” wounded “honor” will be healed with a check, although he would rather have his watch, seeing that the payment of checks can be easily stopped at the bank.
It must not be inferred from the foregoing that any peaceable gentleman who walks the streets is liable to be dragged by the nape of his neck into a compromising situation and compelled to disgorge all of his portable wealth at the point of a pistol. Far from it. He who walks the straight path of virtue is in no danger whatsoever. It is your frisky gentleman, who is out for a little lark and is reckless in his manner of carrying out the enterprise, who is likely to find himself in a snare. “Be good and you will be happy” is a maxim (modernized) that applies very handsomely to this sort of thing. “But you will miss lots of fun!” the frisky man may respond. Well, well, even so, but be very careful, for you know not how soon or how abruptly the languishing angel at your side may change into a fiery harridan, determined to have your money, your reputation or your life—whichever may suit her best.
Only a shade removed from the “indignant husband” game is the old “panel” enterprise, which is so very vulgar and simple in the mannerof its operation that it would not be worthy of mention were it not for the author’s desire to warn strangers of every grade of intelligence against every possible danger that may lie in wait for him. Beware! O sportive young gentleman in search of a little diversion, of the young woman who on the shortest term of acquaintance invites you to accompany her to her flat or her boudoir, as the case may be. It may be that she has a pair of sharp scissors in her pocket with which she deftly snips off your money pocket; but failing this device, the “panel” is brought into play. While the interview between the more or less affectionate lovers is in progress a panel in the wall slides back, pushed by invisible hands, and a third person, the male confederate of the damsel, slinks through it into the apartment. The amount of plunder he secures depends entirely upon the degree of absorption with which the quarry is wooing his charmer and the progress that he has made in her affections, but however that may be he is tolerably certain to emerge a heavy loser. If the presence of the third party is discovered (and it is surprising how seldom this is the case) a fight is in order and the victim is fortunate if he escapes with only the loss of his valuables to mourn and no physical injury to lament.
It is a sorry subject and one is glad to leave it. Before doing so, however, remember one thing, and remember it very distinctly: No young lady, however irreproachable her appearance, who enters into a street flirtation, can safely be regarded as other than dangerous. Act on this suggestion and you will run no risks. In other words, “Be good and you will be happy.” A repetition of the maxim will do no harm.