My Queen: A Weekly Journal for Young Women. Issue 5, October 27, 1900 / Marion Marlowe Entrapped; or, The Victim of Professional Jealousy

“Now, Mr. Clayton Graham, I’ll spoil your white dove for you a trifle, I fancy,” muttered Carlotta under her breath, as she half closed her eyes and looked scornfully at Marion.

Aloud she merely said: “Some friends of mine, Ila.Don’t disturb yourself, dear; you will find them very agreeable.”

It was fully a minute before Marion could control her anger sufficiently to rise and confront her hostess with any degree of calmness, and even when she did, her cheeks glowed like carnations, and her wide, gray eyes had grown black as midnight.

She had come to this woman’s home on an errand of sympathy, and now, at midnight, as she was sitting in almost bed-room attire, she was suddenly forced to receive the company of two men whom it was plainly to be seen were both under the influence of liquor.

“Mademoiselle, this is outrageous!”were her first indignant words.“How could you allow them to come in here now.Have you no shame, no atom of decency about you?”

The base woman almost screamed with laughter, as the young girl spoke.She was fairly gloating over her discomfiture, and the two men joined heartily in her merriment.

“Don’t be frightened, birdie!”said one of the men familiarly, as they both stepped inside and closed the door behind them.“We won’t hurt such a pretty creature as you are.No, indeed, we’ve only dropped in to admire your beauty.”

“Yes, and to help eat Carlotta’s welsh rarebit,” said the other, going straight to the woman and kissing her.“So glad you invited us, old girl, make as big a one as you can, for we are both hungry and thirsty.”

“I’m hungry for a bite of those red lips,” said the other fellow, lurching over and putting his hand on Marion’s bare shoulder.

In an instant the young girl sprang back and put the width of the room between them.

“If you dare to touch me I will kill you,” she cried sharply, at the same time snatching a small ivory handled revolver from Carlotta’s dressing table.

“I believe you would,” said the man, staring at her admiringly.“By gad!but you are a beauty!How I would like to tame you!”

“What does ail you, Ila?”said Carlotta, walking toward Marion and speaking very coldly.“Put up that thing, dear, and come and sit down.These gentlemen are my friends—they will not harm you.”

“If you expected them here you had no right to invite me,” said the magnificent girl, hotly.“You have inveigled me here for some evil purpose, Carlotta!”

She did not move from her position nor lay down her weapon, and there was a flash in her eyes that warned the woman to be careful.

“I invited them here to meet you,” Carlotta said, very suavely.“They have admired your beauty and wanted to make your acquaintance, and I must say you are treating them in a very extraordinary manner.”

Marion looked at her coldly and held her head a trifle higher.

“I’m in the habit of choosing whom I shall meet,” she said, quietly, “and I do not care to extend my circle of acquaintances to this class of society.”

“Beware!”cried the now angry woman with a vicious hiss.“I said they were my friends.You had better not insult them!”

As the two women stood glaring at each other the men watched them curiously.Such an extraordinary spectacle had sobered them a little.

Marion, young, slight, girlish in her trailing white robe; the other voluptuous, sensual, even coarse, in her negligé of flaming scarlet.It was a spectacle of virtue confronted by vice—of innocence menaced by wanton evil.

When Marion spoke again her voice vibrated strangely and she was fingering the little revolver nervously.

“I hope and believe your friends are more honorable than you are, mademoiselle!”she said, distinctly, “for I doubt if either of them would dare insult a respectable girl, while you have deliberately laid a trap for me—for Heaven alone knows what diabolical motive.”

For just a moment Carlotta looked ashamed, but she promptly recovered, and her frame fairly quivered with anger.

“Put that weapon down and dress yourself,” she said, with a sneer crossing her face.“Your dress is in the bed-room.I shall be glad to have you leave me.”

Marion turned toward the bed-room door, still grasping the pistol.

When she reached the doorway she turned and faced them, throwing her head back with a motion of superb defiance.

“If either of you dare to cross this threshold, look out!”she said briefly, but with unmistakable decision.

As she was hurrying into her street dress she heard the three whispering together.The next second there was a scream from the woman and a perfect volley of curses.

Clayton Graham had suddenly opened the door of the apartment and stood glaring at the trio.With a cry for help Marion bounded out and ran to him.

“Oh, Mr. Graham!Save me!”she cried, half hysterically.“See, I have had to defend myself from those fiends with this pistol.Oh, what am I to think of this wicked woman?”

Clayton Graham looked bewildered for a moment, then a light dawned on his mind—he understood Carlotta’s motive.He had goaded this woman to fury when he spoke to her of Marion’s virtue; now she was doing her best to ruin the young girl’s fair name, and she would have succeeded admirably with one less noble and courageous than Marion.

“So this is your revenge,” he muttered, facing the woman.“You are trying to blacken her good name, you infamous creature!”

The woman answered nothing, she had been caught red-handed.No one knew her better than Clayton Graham—there was no use trying to deceive him in the matter.

“She was weeping in the dressing-room and I spoke to her,” went on Marion, quickly.“She said she was grieving over the loss of a friend and asked me to come home with her, so she would not be so lonely.”

“So she was afraid of being lonely—poor Carlotta,” said the manager with a sneer.“Well, it’s lucky for you, child, that I saw you getting into her carriage.I knew she was up to something, and I called the turn pretty correctly.”

“So that is why I am honored with your presence,” said Carlotta, sarcastically.“You came here to rescue your new sweetheart Ila from the natural vengeance of your old sweetheart Carlotta.”

Clayton Graham looked at her scornfully, but did not deign to reply.Then his glance swept the full length and breadth of her now thoroughly sobered companions.

“I knew you were blackguards and loafers before,” he said, coolly, “but I wouldn’t have believed that drunk or sober you wouldn’t respect an innocent girl.Carlotta must have you in good training, you infamous puppies!”

He offered his arm to Marion and led her out of the apartment.

“Thank goodness I was in time,” he said as they reached the curb, “still, I guess you would have looked out for yourself all right.I wouldn’t want you to come for me armed with even a toy revolver.”

He chuckled good-naturedly as he put Marion into a cab.

“Don’t fail to be on hand to-morrow night,” he said, earnestly.“Your song is the hit of the evening, and the public can’t spare you.Don’t mind about Carlotta.I’ll watch her in future.She’s a tigress all right, but I know her nature.”

Marion thanked him and was soon alighting at her own door.It was nearly two o’clock, and the block where she lived was almost in darkness; as she ran up the steps she felt a trifle nervous.

While she was searching for her latchkey she heard a step behind her.She turned around quickly and confronted a stranger, a small, swarthy man, his face badly scarred and hideous.

“What do you want?”asked Marion with a frightened gasp.

“You,” muttered the fellow instantly, as he laid a long yellow hand on the fair girl’s shoulder.

Marion gave a shriek that awoke the echoes.

In an instant the man turned and fled down the street; he was out of sight before any one responded.

---

CHAPTER V.
A CHINESE GIRL STEALER.

When Ralph Moore, Marion’s brother-in-law, opened the door he was astonished to find her trembling with terror.

“Why, sister, I thought you were not coming home to-night,” he began, but the girl stopped him with a quick explanation.

“Carlotta trapped me,” she said, hotly, “but I escaped from her safely!Now, who do you suppose that fellow was, the dreadful creature that just grabbed my arm right here on the steps.My shriek must have frightened you awfully, brother.”

Ralph Moore looked up and down the street, but there was no one in sight, so in another minute they went up to his apartment.

Dollie Marlowe, or Dollie Moore, as she was now, had been married only three weeks, but her little flat already had a homelike look, and both she and her husband were radiantly happy.

As Marion had said, Dollie’s face was the prettier of the two, but it was a babyish prettiness that meant weakness and uncertainty, while Marion’s was the glorious beauty of decision.

As Marion told them of her evening’s experience Dollie’s rosy cheeks paled, while Ralph Moore ran his fingers through his black curls in excitement.

“What a bad, wicked woman,” cried the little bride, indignantly.“To think of her subjecting you to such an insult.Why, she is a disgrace to her sex, isn’t she, darling?”

“She is indeed,” was her husband’s fond answer as he stopped in his excited pacing to and fro, to kiss his wife’s soft, dimpled shoulder.

“It is a shame that our dear sister should have to come in contact with such a creature, and to think that Marion was trying to do her a kindness.”

Marion had removed her hat and unbound her beautiful hair, and now sat sipping a cup of chocolate that Dollie had hurriedly made for her.

“What puzzles me most is that man,” she said, thoughtfully.“Oh, what a terrible face he had—it was hideously scarred and disfigured.”

“He was probably drunk,” was her brother-in-law’s answer.“And no doubt he mistook you for some one else.I’ll tell the officer on the beat to keep a look-out for him in future.”

“Well, it is very evident that there was no officer on the beat to-night,” said Marion, laughing, “for I screamed as loudly as I possibly could, and I only succeeded in awakening the echoes.”

“Oh, the cop was probably in the corner saloon,” said Ralph Moore, disgustedly; “still, it’s lucky you screamed and scared the fellow.No one knows what he might have done if you hadn’t, sister.”

“Oh, I have some news for you,” said Dollie, suddenly.“I got a letter from our old friend, Bert Jackson, to-day.He is coming home to be ready to sail for Europe with his foster-father next week, and in the fall he is going to college.”

“That is good news,” said Marion, with a happy smile.“I wondered why we hadn’t heard from Bert since your wedding, but I suppose he has been having such a good time with his new parents in Canada that he did not have time to write to his old friends.”

“He is a lucky boy,” said Dollie, thoughtfully.“Why, just think, only a few months ago he was a waif in a county poor farm!Oh, how lucky it was that he ran away.It is not every poor orphan that has such good fortune.”

“And I am so glad that I helped him to escape,” said her sister, laughing.“I gave him five dollars the night he ran away—it was all I had, for I was only a country girl then, and you know, sister, that our father did not give us much money.”

“Poor old dad,” said Dollie, with the tears springing to her eyes.“He has been a different man since you paid off the mortgage on the farm, Marion.Mother says he is so gentle that we would hardly know him.”

This illusion to one of Marion’s many noble deeds made the fair girl very happy.It had been the greatest pleasure of her life to be able to pay off that mortgage on the homestead.

“It is a pity that it took him so long to learn that ‘gentleness is best,’” she said, sadly.“Poor old father would have been far happier if he had learned it earlier.We would have all been happier in our life in the country.”

They sat and talked a little while longer, then retired for a few hours’ rest before daylight.

When Marion awoke in the morning she found that Ralph had already bought the morning papers, and, as usual, she glanced them over before eating her breakfast.

“Oh, how kind the critics are to me,” she said as she read the notice of her singing in the Star“And how dreadfully they speak of Carlotta, saying that her voice has lost its freshness, and all that sort of thing, I can hardly blame the woman for disliking me.”

“Well, she has let her professional jealousy go too far,” said Ralph, hotly.“When she tries such tricks as she did last night it is high time she was halted.”

“I guess Mr. Graham will read her a lecture to-day,” said Marion, slowly, “It remains to be seen what effect it has upon her.”

“Here is a dreadful thing,” said Dollie, who was glancing over a part of the paper. “A young girl has just been rescued from an opium den. It seems she was stolen by Chinamen and kept a prisoner in one of their houses.”

“Oh, that sort of thing happens every day,” said her husband, quickly.“There’s a tremendous traffic in ‘white slaves,’ as they call them.Those yellow devils have a mania for white girls in this country.”

“I think it is horrible,” said Marion, shuddering.“It is almost incredible that such horrors can exist in a Christian country.”

“Nevertheless they do,” said Ralph, a little absently.He was busy at that moment reading the rest of the article.Suddenly he almost sprang from his chair at the breakfast table, and a look of horror overspread his countenance.

“Quick, Marion!Describe that fellow that you saw last night on the steps.Was he small and black, and was his face all scars, and was there anything about him that looked like a Chinaman?”

Marion thought a little before she answered.

“He certainly was small and had a yellowish skin, and his face was all scars, and his eyes black and beady.Come to think of it, he did look like a Chinaman, Ralph, but for goodness sake do tell us what is the matter!”she said, earnestly.

“That fellow is wanted by the police,” was Ralph Moore’s prompt answer.“He is a sort of an agent for rich Celestials in the city, he goes around trying to steal young girls, and they say that in several instances he has been successful.”

Both Dollie and Marion stared at him in astonishment for a minute, then Marion’s gray eyes flashed ominously, and her lips curved in a smile.

“Well, I pity him if he ever tries to steal me,” she said, decidedly, “for I have no special liking for ‘chow-chop-suey.’”

---

CHAPTER VI.
A GLIMPSE BEHIND THE SCENES.

At half-past seven that evening Marion Marlowe was at the theatre.She was a trifle apprehensive of what was coming.As she tripped around to the stage door every person on the street turned to look at her, for New York was almost mad at the moment with admiration for “Ila de Parloa.”It was not altogether the girl’s magnificent voice that had charmed them, but her beautiful face and natural, unaffected manner on the stage had been a great treat after a long siege of conceited actors and airy prima donnas.

During her engagement so far she had sang only simple ballads, which were sandwiched in between the regular scenes in a manner known only to comic operas and vaudeville.

But the quaint, modest dress of the charming singer, and, best of all, her freedom from conceit, had won the respect of even the critics, which is a thing not easily done by any singer.

Marion felt strange in the atmosphere of the monstrous theatre, yet she was fast becoming accustomed to its shallow mockeries, and deep down in her soul there had always been a desire for fame, which now, for the first time in her short life, was within some possibility of gratification.

“If it was not for Carlotta’s jealousy,” she whispered to herself, as she climbed the narrow stairs behind the scenes—“but what can I do if she chooses to injure me?”

“Howdy, signorita!”called a voice as she reached the top of the stairs.“You are early, as usual, and yet you don’t ‘make up’ much, either.If it wasn’t for my everlasting complexion, I wouldn’t be here, you bet.I’d have spent another hour in bed wouldn’t you, Miss Kingsley?”

The speaker was a chorus girl, whose name Marion did not know. She was standing in the doorway of a big dressing-room, which she shared with a dozen others.

“Do you think so much ‘make-up’ is necessary?”asked Marion, pleasantly.“Somehow, I am always afraid of getting my nose too white and my ears too red.I do wish there wasn’t such a thing as having to use it!”

“Oh, we’d all look like ghosts if we didn’t,” said the girl.“Those footlights make you ghastly if your face isn’t painted.”

“It makes some people look like frights, anyway,” called another voice, shrilly.“It is just too funny to see some folks prink when they can’t be anything but scrawny and ugly, no matter how much they paint and whitewash!”

The girl in the doorway glanced over her shoulder scornfully.

“You wear ‘symmetricals’ yourself, Miss Impudence,” she said, tauntingly.“I may be scrawny around the shoulders, but my legs are all right, and legs are all that is wanted in the chorus nowadays.”

“I thought it was voices that were desired,” said Marion, dryly; “but, then, I am new; I don’t know much about requirements.”

“I notice you are mighty careful not to wear your dress short at either end,” called another voice.“What is the matter with your shape, Signorita Ila?”

Marion Marlowe flushed a little, but did not reply, so the girl in the doorway promptly answered for her.

“Oh, she’s too modest and shy, don’t you understand!But just wait a week, girls—then you may have to look to your laurels.Can’t make me believe that the little ‘greeny’ isn’t all right!She’s fresh from the country, and ought to be as plump as a partridge.”

“You are the only girl in the chorus that ain’t jealous, Jennie,” called a coarse masculine voice, as Jack Green, the “property man,” came by at that minute.

Jennie was just stepping into her slippers when she caught sight of Jack.In an instant one of them went spinning in his direction.

Jack caught it deftly and held it in his hand.

“Out on first,” he said, with a grin.“Now, when you want it back you’ll have to kiss me.”

“Oh, I don’t mind doing that a little bit,” cried the girl, unhesitatingly, and in a second she had both arms over the property man’s shoulders.

“You’re a daisy, Jack, and I’m awfully mashed on you,” she said, candidly; “but you haven’t got enough wealth, so, you see, I must stick to the Johnnies.”

“Oh, I don’t want you,” was the fellow’s equally honest answer.“I’m stuck on the new beauty, the charming Ila.I wonder if she would give me a kiss if I asked her.”

Marion was standing right in front of him as he made the remark, and in an instant all of the chorus girls came out to see how she took it.

“No use to play the prude,” thought Marion, with a shudder.“These people see no harm in kissing, so I must try and get out of it nicely.”

“No, Mr. Green,” she said, with a half smile, “I would not dream of kissing you before all these young ladies!Why, they would scratch my eyes out, and I am sure I would deserve it.”

“That’s not so bad for a ‘greeny,’” said Jennie.She had got her slipper back now, and was adjusting it carefully.

“Make less noise up there, girls!”called out the stage manager from the stairs.

The girls scampered back into their dressing-room, leaving Marion and the property man together.

“Won’t you kiss me, sweetie?”said Jack Green, in an undertone, as he came closer to her.“I wasn’t joking a little bit, Ila.I’m just dying to kiss you.”

Marion looked up at the burly fellow and tried to read his face.She had disliked him from the first, but had always tried not to show it.

“I don’t think you mean to insult me, Mr. Green,” she said, after a second.“You professionals do not look upon kisses as a very serious matter, but, you see, I am a country girl, and I have been taught differently.I am saving my lips for the man whom I shall marry.”

Jack Green gave a whistle of genuine surprise, for he saw by the girl’s face that she was sincere and honest.

“Well, you are a novelty,” he said, after a minute.“Been on the stage nearly a week and don’t believe in kissing.”

“That is one reason why I shall never be an actress,” said Marion, sadly.“It does seem awful to me to be kissing and hugging so indiscriminately.”

“You’d like it if you tried it,” said Green, with a wicked leer.“Your lips were made to kiss; they are just like cherries—it’s mighty mean of you, I think, to be so stingy with them.”

“I shall kiss the man that I love,” said Marion, softly, as she attempted to quietly pass the fellow and go to her dressing-room.

“Well, I’m a chump if I let you go that way,” said the big brute, suddenly.“You’re bound to kiss somebody if you stay in this business, and, by the powers, I’m going to be the first one!”

His face had reddened with passion as he spoke, and as Marion glanced at him quickly she found his eyes almost devouring her.

“Let me pass!It is late!”she commanded, sternly.

“Not until I have tasted of those red lips, Ila,” said the fellow.The next second he had caught her in his arms and was pressing her roughly to his bosom.

---

CHAPTER VII.
MARION MAKES ANOTHER ENEMY

For a second Marion Marlowe was almost paralyzed with fright, but as she felt the fellow’s mustache touching her cheek she raised her right hand and gave him a blow with all the force of her strong young muscles.

“Take that for your impudence, you cur!”she whispered, tensely.

Jack Green released her and fell back a step, and just at that moment Carlotta came out of her dressing-room.

“Hello!”she said, abruptly, as she caught sight of Marion.“You here again to-night, you little simpleton!”

Marion Marlowe was now trembling with indignation already, but at the woman’s words she became suddenly calm.

“Certainly I am here, Carlotta!”she said, quietly, “where else should I be but keeping my engagements?”

“She means that she is engaged to me,” spoke up Jack Green, sneeringly.“I was just sealing our betrothal with a kiss or two,” he added.

“How dare you!”cried Marion, turning on him furiously.

Carlotta sneered as she came a little nearer.

“I thought your goodness was all put on,” she said, coldly.“So you prefer a ‘property man’ to a gentleman, do you?”

The beautiful young girl turned on her heel with a disdainful glance.She had had quite enough of this sort of thing for one evening.

As she walked deliberately to her dressing-room, both Carlotta and Green stared after her, and in spite of their anger they could not conceal their admiration.

“By gad!But she’s a corker!”was the property man’s exclamation.

“She thinks because the public likes her that she owns the show,” muttered Carlotta, “but I’ll fix her yet, the little country hussy!”

“Well, Graham is dead gone on her all right,” said the man quickly, eying the woman sharply as he spoke to see how she took it.

“Clayte Graham is a knave and a fool,” she hissed fiercely.“I’ll teach him to play fast and loose with a woman like Carlotta.”

“You ought to have a pretty taut string on him by this time,” said the fellow, shrewdly, “and you ain’t the woman to be cut out by a snip of a girl like that.”

“I should say not, Green,” said the woman slowly; then she seemed to think of something, for she turned and looked at him earnestly.

Jack Green was too shrewd not to know what he was doing.He had an end to gain or he would not have been neglecting his own duties at that minute.This woman, Carlotta, had never noticed him before.She had always held her head very high where the property man was concerned, and her constant disdain had nettled him sorely.

Like many another man, he desired what was beyond him; but now his opportunity had come to accomplish his ends; he had only to help her wreak her vengeance on another.

“Green,” whispered the woman, suddenly, as she took a step nearer, “Help me to sully that girl’s character so that Clayte Graham will believe it and I will reward you handsomely.Say, will you do it?”

A dull gleam of light flashed from the property man’s eyes as he half closed his eyelids and peered at her through them.

Carlotta’s face flushed through her paint and she drew back quickly.She read his meaning.

“Think!”urged the man, “your position is at stake!If Graham falls in love with that girl he will drop you in a minute, and, mark my words, it will be a long day, Carlotta, before you get another rich lover.”

“Well, how can you help me?”asked the woman, shrewdly.

“Dead easy,” was the prompt answer.“I’ll fix that all right.I’ll compromise her myself if I can’t find any one else to do it; but my reward, Carlotta?”

“You shall have your reward,” said the woman in a chilling whisper, “when that girl’s character is ruined.”

---

The first “call” was given as Carlotta hurried back to her room, and Jack Green turned hastily to attend to business.

A second later there was a slight noise behind a stack of old scenery and after another second a girl slipped out from the mass, and shaking her skirts clear ran softly to her dressing-room.

“So that is the kind of a fellow you are, Jack Green,” she murmured to herself, at the same time wringing her small hands in perfect agony.

Marion Marlowe was ready to “go on” when this girl reached the dressing-room.It was a little box of a place, but they occupied it together.

“Oh, Miss Lindsay, what is the matter?”said Marion, quickly.“You look terribly pale.Has anything happened?Are you ill?Is there anything I can do for you?”

To all of these questions Miss Lindsay only shook her head.She was a frail, delicate girl, whom the others had nicknamed “The Feather.”

Marion saw at once that the girl did not wish her sympathy, so she said nothing more, but went over by the door to wait where she could hear the call to the wings.

Miss Lindsay hurried into her stage costume as quickly as possible, but she took very little pains with it.

“What is the use of trying to look pretty?”she said finally.“No one cares how I look, so I’m not going to bother.”

“Oh, I am sure somebody cares,” said Marion, quickly, “and really, Miss Lindsay, you should put on more rouge.You are awfully pale.I am afraid the calcium will make you look ghastly.”

“I don’t care if it does,” said the girl indifferently, but she did smear a little of the red stuff across her cheeks and eyelids.

There was another call and the chorus came rushing from the stairs—in less than a moment the overture would be ended.

Marion did not have to go on for some little time, but she followed slowly down the stairs, in order to stand in the wings, as she always enjoyed listening to the chorus.

Just as she reached the stairs she observed one of the chorus girls waiting for her.As she peered through the dim light she saw that it was Miss Lindsay.

“Perhaps she is going to confide in me, after all,” Marion thought.“Poor thing, she is in some trouble—any one can see it.”

“What is it?”she asked, as she reached the girl and put one hand tenderly on her shoulder.

There was a curious look in the girl’s eyes as she answered.She put her face up close to Marion’s so that no one would hear her.

“If anything should happen to me to-night, Signorita, I want you to tell Jack that I was watching behind the pile of old scenery.I saw him with you and with her, Carlotta,” she whispered, “so if anything happens he will understand it.”

“But what can happen?”asked Marion, sharply.

The girl darted down the stairs without stopping to answer.

“Oh, she is planning something desperate!”murmured Marion, “and great Heaven!she can accomplish it, too, if she wishes, for every one of the chorus carries a sword in this act!Oh, I must go this minute and warn Mr. Graham!”

---