VI.
Grand Pacific Hotel,Chicago, April 9, 9 o’clock P. M.Dear Warman:—I must write in great haste, for in an hour I leave for New York. It is quite unexpected. I expect the Milwaukee party here in a quarter of an hour to go with me.In all probability I shall not be back to Denver before the first of May, if then,—for, being in New York, I shall probably stop and attend to some other matters.I wrote you last night, and now I want to correct the impressions of that letter.When does one ever hear the last word of a bad story. That fellow Ketchumis even more of an all-round scoundrel than I thought. I have heard a lot about him to-day; ran upon a man who was his head book-keeper and confidential man here in his heyday, and whom he robbed, as he has everybody else who has had anything to do with him. I was out looking up Parsons among the brokers’ offices. He has been a sort of fly-about these last years, into this, that, and every little pitiful scheme, to turn a dollar, and having a desk always in the office of the latest man he could interest in his projects, so he is about as hard to find as the proverbial needle in the hay-mow.Nobody is specially interested in keeping track of him, now that he is down.Man and woman sittingWell, in my hunt, I ran upon a Mr. Filmore who told me where he boards—a cheap and shabby place, poor fellow.He was not there; hasn’t been for two weeks or more. Landlady surmised he had gone to join his family somewhere out West—in California, she guessed—didn’t know when he would be back; didn’t know that he would ever be back. Oh, yes, she supposed hewouldbe backsome time,—no, he hadn’t left any address to have his mail forwarded. The purveyor of hash supposed Mr. Parsons received his mailat his office—he certainly did not receive any there. Was I a detective? Had Mr. Parsons been getting into trouble? Oh, Cy, the misery of being very poor after having been very rich! The Lord deliver me from it! Poor Parsons, one of the finest and proudest of gentlemen, to be spoken of in such a tenor at the street door of a cheap boarding-house!Is it any wonder his brave, good little girl is frantic to do something to help him onto his feet again and out of such an atmosphere?He may be in Colorado; and if he is, you may be called upon to record the sudden death of that scamp Ketchum, any day.Two women and a baby on a street-carI returned to Mr. Filmore’s office to leave a note with him for Parsons, and he told me all about K. The fellow is a thorough scamp and allhis faults are aggravated by his smooth and oily hypocrisy. It is true he has a family here, as I mentioned yesterday, and that he maintains them in a show of comfort and respectability; but his wife is a broken-hearted, dispirited creature, whom he married at the muzzle of a frantic father’s gun. He drags her to church to keep up appearances; but that is all the respect or civility he shows her. When he was rich here, he kept a blonde angel of the demi-monde in swell style, with her carriage and all that, while his wife was left to stump around on foot, with an occasional excursion in company with the hired girl and the baby on the street-cars of a Sunday afternoon. Filmore says the wretch has ruined four or five poor girls in succession, who came towork in his office, and started them out on a sea of sin.I hope Parsons has gone to Colorado, so that he may know just where his daughter is. I intended to give him my opinion of the matter very plainly, if I had found him.You must keep a kindly eye on the poor child, Cy, and help her if you can. Roast that scoundrel and show up his rotten record and his swindling scheme, if he gives you half a chance to open on him. Jump him anyway, and don’t wait for a special provocation.Filmore’s address—Stanley R. Filmore—is room 199 Marine Building, Chicago, and he will willingly supply you with facts enough from the man’s nefarious record to drive him out of Colorado with his swindling mining schemes. It ought to be done—ofcourse only if the mine is a fake—for that sort of scamps and swindlers are the ones who are bringing mining propositions into disrepute in the East and making it almost impossible to raise money for legitimate enterprises. But I must close. Can you read this wild scrawl?Yours,Fitz-Mac.
Grand Pacific Hotel,Chicago, April 9, 9 o’clock P. M.
Dear Warman:—I must write in great haste, for in an hour I leave for New York. It is quite unexpected. I expect the Milwaukee party here in a quarter of an hour to go with me.
In all probability I shall not be back to Denver before the first of May, if then,—for, being in New York, I shall probably stop and attend to some other matters.
I wrote you last night, and now I want to correct the impressions of that letter.
When does one ever hear the last word of a bad story. That fellow Ketchumis even more of an all-round scoundrel than I thought. I have heard a lot about him to-day; ran upon a man who was his head book-keeper and confidential man here in his heyday, and whom he robbed, as he has everybody else who has had anything to do with him. I was out looking up Parsons among the brokers’ offices. He has been a sort of fly-about these last years, into this, that, and every little pitiful scheme, to turn a dollar, and having a desk always in the office of the latest man he could interest in his projects, so he is about as hard to find as the proverbial needle in the hay-mow.
Nobody is specially interested in keeping track of him, now that he is down.
Man and woman sitting
Well, in my hunt, I ran upon a Mr. Filmore who told me where he boards—a cheap and shabby place, poor fellow.He was not there; hasn’t been for two weeks or more. Landlady surmised he had gone to join his family somewhere out West—in California, she guessed—didn’t know when he would be back; didn’t know that he would ever be back. Oh, yes, she supposed hewouldbe backsome time,—no, he hadn’t left any address to have his mail forwarded. The purveyor of hash supposed Mr. Parsons received his mailat his office—he certainly did not receive any there. Was I a detective? Had Mr. Parsons been getting into trouble? Oh, Cy, the misery of being very poor after having been very rich! The Lord deliver me from it! Poor Parsons, one of the finest and proudest of gentlemen, to be spoken of in such a tenor at the street door of a cheap boarding-house!
Is it any wonder his brave, good little girl is frantic to do something to help him onto his feet again and out of such an atmosphere?
He may be in Colorado; and if he is, you may be called upon to record the sudden death of that scamp Ketchum, any day.
Two women and a baby on a street-car
I returned to Mr. Filmore’s office to leave a note with him for Parsons, and he told me all about K. The fellow is a thorough scamp and allhis faults are aggravated by his smooth and oily hypocrisy. It is true he has a family here, as I mentioned yesterday, and that he maintains them in a show of comfort and respectability; but his wife is a broken-hearted, dispirited creature, whom he married at the muzzle of a frantic father’s gun. He drags her to church to keep up appearances; but that is all the respect or civility he shows her. When he was rich here, he kept a blonde angel of the demi-monde in swell style, with her carriage and all that, while his wife was left to stump around on foot, with an occasional excursion in company with the hired girl and the baby on the street-cars of a Sunday afternoon. Filmore says the wretch has ruined four or five poor girls in succession, who came towork in his office, and started them out on a sea of sin.
I hope Parsons has gone to Colorado, so that he may know just where his daughter is. I intended to give him my opinion of the matter very plainly, if I had found him.
You must keep a kindly eye on the poor child, Cy, and help her if you can. Roast that scoundrel and show up his rotten record and his swindling scheme, if he gives you half a chance to open on him. Jump him anyway, and don’t wait for a special provocation.
Filmore’s address—Stanley R. Filmore—is room 199 Marine Building, Chicago, and he will willingly supply you with facts enough from the man’s nefarious record to drive him out of Colorado with his swindling mining schemes. It ought to be done—ofcourse only if the mine is a fake—for that sort of scamps and swindlers are the ones who are bringing mining propositions into disrepute in the East and making it almost impossible to raise money for legitimate enterprises. But I must close. Can you read this wild scrawl?
Yours,Fitz-Mac.