span order, and he evinces a great interest in burglarproof
devices. His home is a
tangle of electric wires, and after
bed-time a guest can scarcely breathe without
setting off an
alarm. Also, he had invented a
combination keyless door-lock
that travelers may carry in their vest pockets and apply
immediately and
successfully under all circumstances. But his
wife does not deem him a
coward. She knows better. And, like
any hero, he is content to rest on his laurels. His
bravery is
never questioned by those friends who are aware of the Mill
Valley episode.
THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT
CARTER WATSON, a current magazine under his arm,
strolled
slowly along, gazing about him
curiously. Twenty years had
elapsed since he had been on this particular street, and the
changes were great and stupefying. This Western city of three
hundred thousand souls had contained but thirty thousand, when,
as a boy, he had been wont to
ramble along its streets. In
those days the street he was now on had been a quiet residence
street in the
respectableworkingclass quarter. On this late
afternoon he found that it had been submerged by a vast and
vicious tenderloin. Chinese and Japanese shops and dens
abounded, all confusedly intermingled with low white resorts
and boozing dens. This quiet street of his youth had become the
toughest quarter of the city.
He looked at his watch. It was half-past five. It was the slack
time of the day in such a region, as he well knew, yet he was
curious to see. In all his score of years of wandering and
studying social conditions over the world, he had carried with
him the memory of his old town as a sweet and
wholesome place.
The
metamorphosis he now
beheld was
startling. He certainly
must continue his
stroll and
glimpse the infamy to which his
town had descended.
Another thing: Carter Watson had a keen social and civic
consciousness. Independently
wealthy, he had been loath to
dissipate his energies in the pink teas and freak dinners of
society, while actresses, race-horses, and
kindred diversions
had left him cold. He had the ethical bee in his
bonnet and was
a
reformer" target="_blank" title="n.改革者;革新者">
reformer of no mean pre
tension, though his work had been
mainly in the line of contributions to the heavier reviews and
quarterlies and to the
publication over his name of
brightly,
cleverly written books on the
working classes and the
slum-dwellers. Among the twenty-seven to his credit occurred
titles such as, "If Christ Came to New Orleans," " The
Worked-out Worker," "Tenement Reform in Berlin," "The Rural
Slums of England," "The people of the East Side," "Reform
Versus R
evolution," "The University Settlement as a Hot Bed of
Radicalism' and "The Cave Man of Civilization."
But Carter Watson was neither morbid nor
fanatic. He did not
lose his head over the horrors he encountered,
studied, and
exposed. No hair brained
enthusiasm branded him. His humor
saved him, as did his wide experience and his con. conservative
philosophic
temperament. Nor did he have any
patience with
lightning change
reform theories. As he saw it, society would
grow better only through the
painfully slow and arduously
painful processes of
evolution. There were no short cuts, no
sudden regenerations. The betterment of mankind must be worked
out in agony and
misery just as all past social betterments had
been worked out.
But on this late summer afternoon, Carter Watson was curious.
As he moved along he paused before a gaudy drinking place. The
sign above read, "The Vendome." There were two entrances. One
evidently led to the bar. This he did not
explore. The other
was a narrow
hallway. Passing through this he found himself in
a huge room, filled with chair-encircled tables and quite
deserted. In the dim light he made out a piano in the distance.
Making a
mental note that he would come back some time and