"
"You mean that she is doing something against the law!" Tavernake
exclaimed, indignantly. "I don't believe it for a moment. If
she is associating with these people, it's because she doesn't
know who they are."
Pritchard flicked the ash from his cigar.
"Well," he said, "every man has a right to his own opinions, and
for my part I like to hear any one stick up for his friends. It
makes no odds to me. However, here are a few facts I am going to
bring before you. Four months ago, one of the turns at a
vaudeville show down Broadway consisted of a performance by a
Professor Franklin and his two daughters, Elizabeth and Beatrice.
The professor hypnotized, told fortunes, felt heads, and the
usual rigmarole. Beatrice sang, Elizabeth danced.
People came to see the show, not because it was any good but
because the girls, even in New York, were beautiful."
"A music-hall in New York!" Tavernake muttered.
The detective nodded.
"Among the young bloods of the city," he continued, "were two
brothers, as much alike as twins, although they aren't twins,
whose names were Wenham and Jerry Gardner. There's nothing in
fast life which those young men haven't tried. Between them, I
should say they represented everything that was known of
debauchery and dissipation. The eldest can't be more than
twenty-seven to-day, but if you were to see them in the morning,
either of them, before they had been massaged and galvanized into
life, you'd think they were little old men, with just strength
enough left to crawl about.
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