A Desire to Hide Part 35

Lewis Pease, when he arrived, proved to be a gaunt man, who wore all plain black clothing, and who was overjoyed to speak to Mary about his passion for helping the poor. It was clear that he was very proud of the work that he did, and was not going to neglect it, even for this unexpected visitor. He asked if Mary would be willing to wait in his office, while he made sure that the cloth he had carted in was taken care of, and that then he would be very happy to speak to her for as long as she liked. Mary was hardly in a position to object. Mrs. Pease showed her to the office, and left her with a cup of tea, and a book to read. The book was by a man named Mayhew, who Mary had never heard of before, but she found the book very interesting, even if it was about London, not New York. She had just reached a chapter on street markets when Pease entered the room.

“A splendid book, Ms. Wells, brought over by a friend from England when he last visited,” he said, seeing what it was that Mary was reading. “There is nothing so complete regarding our city yet, but I hope that one day there might be.”

“Is that a project you are considering to undertake, Mr. Pease?” Mary asked, setting the book aside.

“I have enough work with the mission, Ms. Wells,” said Mr. Pease, sitting behind his desk. “I will be forced to leave such a work to another, though of course I would offer that person as much assistance as I could.”

“It does seem as if a good deal of labor has been invested. Mrs. Pease showed me the many rooms you have here, but I saw little of the people. What sort of people come here in general?”

“The sort of people who inhabit this neighborhood, mostly Irish Catholics,” said Mr. Pease, shrugging his shoulders. Mary stifled a groan, it had been very much what she had feared when she had asked the question. Mr. Pease did not seem to notice her response however, because he continued. “I am a Methodist minister myself, but my missionary accepts all who need aid, no matter their faith.” Mary found some relief in this at least. She had began to like Mr. Pease, but then had feared that she was in the company of another one of those preachers who walked through the streets telling Catholics that they would go to Hell. The idea of a nondenominational mission appealed to her greatly. Just then Mrs. Pease came in however, so Mary had no chance to tell Mr. Pease how admirable she found his work.

“Arthur is downstairs, and would like to speak to you, Lewis,” said Mrs. Pease.

“Show him up,” said Mr. Pease, smiling at Mary. “I would like to introduce you, he is an old friend of mine. Sometimes he helps me with my work, and sometimes I help him with his.”

Mrs. Pease left, and soon steps on the stairs made it clear that she was returning with their guest. It was difficult to tell who was more surprised when the door opened and Mr. Krugs and Mary saw one another. Mary had half risen from her seat, to greet Mr. Pease’s friend politely, but quickly sat back down, while Mr. Krugs seemed to be having a good deal of trouble controlling his temper. He finally turned to Mr. Pease, not even greeting Mary.

“I had come with the intention of asking you to find this errant young lady, Mr Pease, but I see that she is not lost,” said Mr. Krugs, his voice frighteningly formal for someone who Mary normally thought of as crude and poorly spoken.

“She isn’t a runaway is she,” said Mr. Pease, looking at Mary with shock. She blushed deeply.

“I am not,” she protested.

“To be in this neighborhood without an escort, I had wondered,” spoke up Mrs. Pease.

“I am not running away from anything, Mr. Pease, Mrs. Pease. Mr. Krug, I do wish that you would not give them the wrong idea,” Mary added, glaring at the man. “I will admit that I allowed my curiosity and zeal for charity to overcome my judgement, that is all. Since I knew of no one to escort me, I came alone, to see for myself the conditions of the poor.”

“You have made your sister frantic, you realize, Ms. Wells. When she came to my office to retain me, she was almost hysterical.”

“You don’t mean to say that you have taken her money,” said Mary, now growing angry in her turn, but Mr. Krugs shook his head.

“I have taken nothing from her, but if you ever cause your sister as much distress as I have seen from her this day, I will not forgive you,” said the detective flatly, while Mr. And Mrs. Pease stood by, watching both of them awkwardly.

A Desire to Hide Part 25

Two days latter, while Ann was still torturing her brain with what she ought put in her letter, and what might seem too forward, the matter was taken from her hands by a knock at their apartment door. When the maid announced the return of the detective, Mary almost laughed at how panicked Ann became. It occurred to her that as the detective had come by without warning the last time, he had already seen both sisters as they always were at home, and therefore Ann need not worry how he saw her now. Ann was clearly in no mood to consider this however.

“Bring him up,” Mary told the maid, and Ann gave a little shriek as the maid left the room.

“I have had no time to prepare,” she said.

“We have discussed this before, we can hardly leave the man standing in the entrance while you do prepare,” said Mary. She did not think that Ann was stupid, but it did seem that ideas needed to be repeated on occasion to get through. This was especially true with matters of appearance, since though Ann would never admit it, she was rather vain.

“Well you must entertain him then, while I go put on something more suited to company,” said Ann, rushing into the bedroom that she shared with Mary. Mary could hear the sound of fabric being hurriedly rifled through, but did not have time to comment, because there was a knock at the door. She rose to answer it.

“Mr. Krugs,” Mary said politely, well aware that Ann was probably listening, and there would be unpleasantness later if she was not completely welcoming to the detective.

“Good morning,” said Mr. Krugs, stepping into the room and looking around him. Mary had no illusions as to who he was looking for, and she decided she would be kind enough not to keep him in suspense.

“Ann will be out shortly, we were not expecting company and she did not feel that she was dressed suitably to greet a gentleman.”

“I apologize for not giving notice that I was coming,” said Mr. Krugs, sounding truly repentant at the thought of having done anything to inconvenience Ann. “I simply happened to be in the area again on business.”

“Please, Mr. Krugs, you need not apologize,” Mary assured him, still aware that Ann was listening in the other room. “As you were told on the occasion of your last visit, we happily welcome your company. Please have a seat and Ann will join us shortly.”

“Thank you,” said the detective. He settled himself into the armchair that Peter sat in when he was at home, and looked slightly awkward. Mary could not help but admit that she enjoyed the picture. If the detective was far more at home in the tenements than she was, at least she was far more at home in her own home than he was. They were in her territory now. The thought pleased her, at least until it suddenly irritated her. That was not a good thought, and it was one that would make him look down on her again if she would ever voice it. It was a thought worthy of Laura.

“What was it today?” Mary asked, her voice showing her irritation with herself, though it was clear that the detective thought it was at him. He bristled slightly and became more of himself.

“Nothing polite enough to speak of with a young lady such as yourself,” he said. Mary would have pressed the matter, being intrigued now, but Ann rushed out of the bedroom, clearly deciding that she could no longer leave the detective in the care of her sister.

“Do forgive me for not having come out to greet you sooner, Mr. Krugs,” she said, breathlessly.

“Not at all Ms. Wells,” said the detective, rising politely to greet her. That rankled Mary again somewhat. When they had first met the detective had made it seem as if he had no good manners due to his job, and Mary had almost forgiven him for it. Now however it seemed that he could put on whatever face he wished. While Mary would grant that this was likely also a product of the man’s job, what it meant was that he had intentionally made himself unpleasant to her, while he clearly wished to be as pleasant as possible to Ann. Still, if Ann’s taste ran in such a direction, Mary would not stand in her way.

“I was just thinking of writing to you Mr. Krugs,” said Ann, once they had traded greetings.

“I am flattered, Ms. Wells,” said the detective, “but to what would I deserve the honor?”

“Would you believe that Mary only told me of your amazing kindness to her after your last visit? Having heard of it, I could not stand to think of the way that I had failed to thank you for your aid. It seemed that some member of our family ought to express gratitude,” said Ann, glaring at Mary.

“That is very kind of you, Ms. Wells,” said Mr. Krugs, “but what I did was only in the course of my duty.”

“Your modesty does you credit, Mr. Krugs,” said Ann, attempting to ignore the faces that Mary was making at her behind Mr. Krugs’ back. Ann was certain that Mary was going to give her a difficult time of it once the detective was gone, but it was worth it. Her goal was a simple one, to make Mr. Krugs as welcome as possible.

A Desire to Hide Part 24

“If I did not believe that you would be honest with me, I would think that you had something to offend Mr. Krugs, and convince him not to visit again,” said Ann to Mary. The accusation in her voice was not disguised in the slightest. Mary looked up in surprise, she had been embroidering a handkerchief when this charge was leveled, and completely lost in her own thoughts. Most of these thoughts admittedly being what she had seen on her missionary trip, and what she wished to do about it.

“I assure you that I did nothing of the sort,” said Mary, finally.

“Then why has he not returned?” Ann demanded.

“It has only been two days yet, and as he is not among our intimate acquaintances, I should not expect him for several more at least. That is if he does decide to visit again at all. He may not you know. He never said that he would,” Mary could not resist saying. Still, she could not help but admit to herself that this was an impressive level of infatuation from her sister.

“Do you think that he will not come back then?” asked Ann, going from accusing to fearful in a single moment.

“You really took to him,” said Mary, her voice wondering.

“Did you not?” asked Ann, sounding surprised.

“I cannot say that I care for him much, but is that not for the best?” asked Mary, smiling.

“I suppose it is,” said Ann, smiling back, “though I would rather that you thought well of him, as it would make it easier with Peter.”

“Peter will never be pleased with you being courted by a private detective, if it comes to that,” said Mary. “I do wish you the best with him however. He seems like a man who would look out for you, no matter what I think of his manners.”

“He is a simple man,” admitted Ann.

“He is a crude man,” said Mary, bluntly. “All the same, if he pleases you, make yourself attractive to him. I will not stand in your way. I hope for your sake that he returns.”

“Perhaps I ought to seek him out. We do have his card, it has his address,” said Ann, her voice thoughtful.

“You must not do that,” said Mary, sounding as shocked as she was by the idea. “Imagine what he would think of you. A lady is courted, she does not court. You might allow yourself a letter however,” she suggested after a moment’s hesitation.

“What would I say in it?” asked Ann, now looking panicky. It was as if hunting out the detective would be fine, but a respectable piece of correspondence would be something fraught with danger. Mary smiled again, and thought for a second.

“I know what you might say. You might say that I had told you all that he had done for me when I felt faint, and that you were very grateful to him. After all, I had not told you all that he had done, or why he saw me home, before he visited. You might say that you hoped that you might have the opportunity to thank him in person, as you felt you had not said enough on the occasion of his last visit.”

“Do you think he would be pleased by such a letter?” asked Ann, nervously.

“Who would take offense at being thanked?” asked Mary, puzzled. “In any case, I would say that it would put your next meeting with him on a friendly footing, would you not?”

“I suppose it would,” said Ann, brightening up. “But you said that you were not really ill, so it would be dishonest,” she added, looking slightly more downcast, just as quickly.

“What does that matter?” asked Mary. “It was that he thought I was sick that mattered. He walked me home thinking that I was about to faint, and that is something worthy of praise even if I do not care for his manners. It would not be dishonest for you to thank him for seeing me home safely. It would not be wrong for Peter to as well.”

“You must not tell Peter about Mr. Krugs,” said Ann quickly.

“I would not dream of it,” Mary said, reassuring. “I would be in a good deal of trouble if he was told, remember, I did not tell him where the outing with Laura was going to be. I simply meant that as my family it would be natural for you to thank the gentleman who had come to my assistance. More importantly Ann, do you know what the worst neighborhood of the city might be considered? And who lives there?”

“How would I know that?” asked Ann, sounding almost offended at the question.

“It has simply been troubling me since I saw the tenements, that is all,” said Mary, trying to make the matter seem inconsequential. “There is no reason for it.”

A Desire to Hide Part 21

“Have you always been a private detective, Mr. Krugs?” asked Ann, once the detective had accepted the invitation to sit. Mary smiled to see Ann attempt to be flirtatious, most of her sister’s ideas on how to be flirtatious came from books, which meant that she had very little visual examples to copy. She was looking up at Mr. Krugs from what she imagined to be hooded eyes, and occasionally batted an eye lash. It was even more amusing for Mary when she considered the fact that Ann, despite how much she held herself up as a moral force, never seemed to consider that men might get the wrong idea when she acted in such a manner. Happily Mr. Krugs was either not noticing Ann’s ridiculous behavior, or he was choosing to ignore it.
“When I was a boy I worked in a shop, but since then, yes I have been a detective.”
“It must be terribly exciting,” said Ann.
“It can be Ms. Wells,” said the detective, smiling.
“Playing shepherd to a flock of foolish socialites,” said Mary, scornfully. The detective laughed.
“I do not always do such simple things,” he said. “And you will admit that we had some excitement even then.”
“You are being very rude to Mr. Krugs, Mary,” protested Ann.
“Please, don’t, Ms. Wells. I don’t mind,” said Mr. Krugs. “I spend my time with far less polite people daily. Speaking of, I am just off a case that I am certain would interest you, Ms. Wells. It was what I was coming from when I realized I was in the neighborhood. A gentleman came home, after a long absence in Europe, and found that several pieces of silver that had been in his family for generations had gone missing. He suspected the servants of course, but his wife was fond of all of the servants and refused to allow the police in to question them. He called me instead.”
“Was it the servants?” asked Ann, leaning forward eagerly.
“Not at all, it was the wife, she pawned the pieces while he was away,” said the detective laughing. “I am given to understand that divorce proceedings will be carrying on shortly. I hope I will not be forced to testify, I despise the courts, and I do not get paid for my time there.” Mary read between the lines, seeing what Mr. Krugs had for once been too proper to speak to ladies about. Besides, he had spoken of divorce, which was hardly a proper topic either. She smiled at him, and decided that she could be just as crude as he could if that would make her more respected in his eyes. Ann was going to scream though.
“The wife had taken a lover then?” Mary asked. The detective looked at her in surprise and then nodded.
“Mary,” exclaimed Ann however, outraged.
“One separates from one’s wife over pawning your family’s silver, one does not divorce her. I suppose that the money from the silver had gone to the lover,” Mary persisted.
“Just so,” agreed the detective.
“This is not the sort of conversation that I care to hear,” said Ann frostily. The detective was instantly all contrition.
“I am sorry, Ms. Wells. I am afraid I know very little how to converse with well bred young ladies like yourselves.”
“I am starting to doubt that Mary can be described as such anymore,” said Ann, glaring at her sister. Mary decided it was easier to apologize to Mr. Krugs than to face her sister once he had left, her sister clearly having decided that it was her job to defend the detective against her unjust sister.
“I am sorry if I have offended you Mr. Krugs,” said Mary. “I am afraid I have not been myself the last few days, and it seems to have made me act unkindly.”
“Not at all,” said the detective, he stood. “I ought to go now however, I had not meant to stay as long as I have, but I found your company charming.”
“Please call again, Mr. Krugs, we are at home most days, and I must say I found your company very enjoyable,” said Ann eagerly. Mary saw a problem and stood.
“I will see you to the door,” she said. Ann gave her a resentful look, it was clear that she thought that Mary was trying to chase the detective away, but Mary showed him out anyway, making sure that the door to their room was shut firmly before she led the detective down the stairs.
“If you do wish to visit again, and I would not object, I would ask that you do so during the day. We have an older brother, and I will be honest with you. He would not care for you in the slightest. He is not aware where I was the other day either, and I would not wish to have him informed. He believes that Laura and I went shopping with some other girls.”
“I see. I had not thought that Laura would have a friend that lived in such a modest neighborhood,” commented the detective as Mary opened the door for him.
“If it is money that you are after, you need never call again,” said Mary. “Our family is of very modest means, and Ann has little to offer you in that direction.” The detective laughed that little laugh of his again, as if nothing in the world would ever offend him.
“You forget, I was not aware of the existence of Ms. Wells when I stopped to see how you were doing. Please imagine, if only for the short time until you discover otherwise, that my motives are pure.” Mary found herself blushing with shame as he jogged down the front step of the house. Once again she had been needless rude to him.

A Desire to Hide Part 20

The card that the maid handed to Mary at first baffled her and than scared her. It was a very simple and undecorated card, unpretentious in every way, and at first Mary thought it was a visiting card, until she saw that it had a business printed under the name, or at least an occupation. It simply said that it was from Arthur Krugs, a private detective, office at 318 Folsom Street. For a moment she considered telling the maid to tell him to be on his way, that she had no interest in seeing him again, but then she remembered her ingratitude at him seeing her home, and changed her mind. She had already been mindlessly rude to him once, there was no reason to repeat it. Especially not if he was in the area specially to see her. She told the maid to see him up.

“A gentleman visitor,” said Ann, excited. If that was why her sister had been acting strangely that she was perfectly satisfied.

“I would not call him a gentleman,” said Mary, her voice cold.

“You would not allow a man you do not consider a gentleman to come up when Peter is not here,” Ann pointed out. It was not something that Mary had considered, but now that Ann did point it out she grew uncomfortable. She did not think that the detective, rough though he had certainly proved himself, was likely to compromise the sisters’ reputations in any way, but it seemed almost impossible all the same to think of him as a gentleman. Well she would let Ann meant the unpleasant fellow, and then maybe she would see what it was that Mary meant. Mary doubted that Ann could hold on to her romanticism in the face of the reality of Mr. Krugs.

“Just thought it best to look in and see that you were alright,” said the detective, looking around the door. It was a relief for Mary to see that at least he had removed his hat. She thought of Ann as more innocent and tender than herself, and she would have hated to introduce her to a man who could not even act as if he had manners.

“I appreciate your concern, but it was unnecessary. I am entirely myself again,” Mary said, standing. Mr. Krugs came fully into the room and saw Ann for the first time. From the angle of the door before, she had been blocked from his sight. “I do beg your pardon Ms,” he said, bowing to her. Mary found herself feelings somewhat insulted, he had not bowed to her.

“May I introduce you to my sister, Ann,” said Mary, but she had a seat again, leaving Mr. Krugs to stand awkwardly in front of them. “Ann this is Mr. Krugs, one of the private detectives that Laura had accompany us. He was kind enough to escort me home after a felt faint,” she added, feeling that this squared her with the detective after she had failed to thank him at the time. He smiled in slight acknowledgment before turning back to Ann, who suddenly seemed to interest him far more than his original purpose.

“It was my duty really, Ms. Wells,” he said, “and I just happened to be in the neighborhood today, and I thought I might stop in just to see that she was really alright.” Mary was about to laugh at what she thought of as a false modest speech, but then decided that she really had no right to. After all, for all of his crude behavior, he had done all of those things and with no extra benefit, and he had not known about Ann when he had dropped by, so maybe he had been acting the gentleman. In any case, the way that Ann was looking at him suggested that the interest was mutual, and Mary was not going to interfere with that.

Despite whatever Peter might think on the subject, Ann and Mary both had been courted on several occasions. They knew that they ought to tell their brother this, indeed they should have told him the moment that any man showed an interest in them since he was their guardian. His suggestion that they marry conveniently and well however had rankled them both to the extent that they liked it better to keep him in the dark. Of course if it ever was found out there would be an amazing scandal, but both made sure that the other sister was present at all times when they were with prospective suitors to insure that there was always a witness. Mary, for all her normal cheerful and social behavior, found that she had very little interest in courting and tended to put the young men off politely. Ann however tended to be sure that all of the men were the one, right up until she got to know them and found that they were nothing like she had decided they were in the privacy of her own head. That tended to put a damper on the relationship. Mary was therefore not overly concerned that Ann was looking shyly up at Arthur Krugs, it was easier to allow such things to run their course rather than get in a large fight about it. So long as she was always present when they were together she could see no harm in it.

“I saw the small-fry at the Sun office this morning,” said Mr. Krugs, turning back to Mary, who could not help but notice that she was not called Ms. Wells.

“And?” asked Mary, returning the favor of rudeness.

“I asked him what he had done with the money you gave him, seeing as he was sleeping on the steam vent. He said he had spent it to take all of his friends to P.T. Barnum’s, and then to an oyster stew, and what he hadn’t spent on that, he’d spent on a new vest, which looked to me to be a rather old vest and somewhat big on him.”

“Then he shall grow into it,” said Mary.

“You don’t mind?” asked the detective, sounding surprised.

“You are thinking me to be Laura again, Mr. Krugs,” Mary rebuked. “I hardly thought it likely that the gift of five dollars would change his way of life, especially as it is doubtful that he had anyone older and wiser to advise him on the expenditure of it. I suppose it is only due to his youth that he did not take it to a gambling hall. What I gave him is a warm memory and a bit of comfort, and I am glad to hear he was kind enough to share it with his friends.”

“It seems I did misjudge you,” admitted the detective.

“Again, Mr. Krugs. It grows to be a habit of yours,” said Mary. She decided that she could well afford to be gracious in her victory. “Won’t you have a seat?”

A Desire to Hide Part Fourteen

As Mary had supposed, their good work cut short, the other girls wanted to go to the shops in the nicer end of Broadway. Mary had left the house looking forward to it, but now she felt she had no appetite for shopping at all. She endured the first store, but she did not buy anything. As they stepped out onto the sidewalk again, the other girls already speaking excitedly about where they wanted to go next, Mary came to a decision.

“I am afraid I am feeling poorly. Perhaps I have what Ann complained of this morning. You will have to excuse me.” This was not a lie, she told herself, she suspected that she had exactly what Ann had, self respect.

“I will see you home, Miss,” said the detective who had thus far paid her such unwanted attention. “As we have left the less savory parts of town, I find that my time is my own.”

“That does not seem a universally held opinion,” said Mary, her voice acidic. She was watching the other private detectives dance attendance on Laura.

“They hope for a tip, Miss,” said the detective, frankly.

“And you do not?” asked Mary. “I tell you frankly, you will not get one from me.”

“Allow me to see an ill young lady home without being suspected of an ulterior motive, Miss,” said the detective. Mary thought that she had offended him, but he was grinning.

“It is gallant of you, sir,” said Mary, realizing that he was entirely serious. “It is out of your way entirely however I am certain, and I mean to walk. Perhaps the fresh air will mend my headache.”

“Consider it my thanks for your swift thinking earlier, Miss.”

“No thanks are necessary, sir. It was in my interest as well, you ought remember.”

“All the same, please allow me to see you home, Miss. As a token of my esteem.” There was little Mary could say to protest that, so they set off down the street together, Mary having given polite excuses and farewells to the other girls who were present. It was appalling to realize how little they had been affected by their near miss and Mary could not help but wonder if a large part of it was that none of them realized just how near it had been. That in its self puzzled Mary however, after all, there had been many anti-catholic, or anti-protestant, riots over the years. They had come very close to starting one, and she and the detective who now walked beside her seemed to be the only two who understood that. It made her almost feel companionably towards the detective. It certainly made her nicer to him when he tried to make conversation.

“A lucky thing for you, Miss, that there had been someone in those parts who had been named Mary Finnegan. It might have gone poorly had there not been.”

“I used the most common Irish name that I could think of, sir,” said Mary. “It is of the sort of name that appears often in the papers when they speak of washerwomen and the like.”

“You are the only young lady I know, Miss, who walks so quickly when she is feeling poorly.” Mary had not realized that she had started walking faster in her anger, but apparently she had been.

“If it was a complaint of anything but my head, sir, I would not be.”

“Yes, Miss. They were giving me a headache too,” said the detective, smiling.

“You presume too much,” said Mary, growing offended again. It was the truth behind her ailment, but she certainly did not care to have it known.

“No young lady with a headache has ever had her legs pumping as you do,” said the detective. Mary almost tripped in shock and looked over at him, but he did not seem to realize that he had said anything in the least bit offensive. To speak of the limbs of a lady you hardly knew alone would be considered shocking, but to speak of her legs, and in public at that.

“I do not care to have you speak of them,” said Mary, her voice frosty. “It is not something that is done.”

“It is done every day, by people across the city, Miss,” said the detective laughing.

“Not in polite company, Mr,” Mary trailed off, realizing that she did not know his name at all, and therefore was not able to chide him with it.

“Krugs,” said the detective.

“Well then, Mr. Krugs, you will please keep a civil tongue in your head when you are speaking to a lady.”

“Yes, Miss,” said the detective, still looking pleased with himself. They were almost to the boarding house that Mary lived by then, and Mary decided she could easily make the rest of the walk with the detective in frosty silence. It was because she was looking in the other direction that she saw the newsboy. Normally she would not have noticed him, but she was in a strange mood, and there was something about the boy who looked to be about five, standing there with his papers, that would not allow her to simply walk past. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the five dollar bill that Peter had given her, shielding what she was doing from the street with her body.

“Here small-fry,” she said quietly. “Don’t say anything to anyone about it, and keep it well hidden, and the other boys won’t pinch it from you.” Then she stood and walked away, leaving the dazed newsboy behind her. She doubted the boy ever saw dollars, let alone five dollars.

“You ought not have done that, Miss,” said the detective.

“I set out to do a good deed today, Mr. Krugs, and now I have done one,” said Mary. “I am sorry if that was the tip that you expected.”

“I already told you I did not expect one, Miss. I meant that you should not have chided me on speaking proper and then used them newsboy words. Small-fry is not something that comes from a proper young lady’s mouth any more than the word legs.” Mary stormed up the stairs to her boardinghouse and slammed the door in his face. She did later feel badly for not thanking him for walking her home, but it was far too late by then, and she had been annoyed with him.

A Desire to Hide Part Thirteen

“Here, Miss, what are you doin’ hangin’ about here?” asked a man’s voice. Mary had been looking the other direction at a vendor she was fairly certain was short changing his customers, but she turned quickly at the sound of the threatening voice. She found herself looking into the face of an equally threatening man. He looked like the sort of man who made his living picking up heavy things for other people, and moving them. As near as she could tell he was all muscle. The people in the city, and indeed the world if the papers were any judge, had an idea about the Irish. They said that you could tell who was Irish just by looking at them, by appearance and the manner in which a person acted. Mary personally had her doubts on the subject since no one had ever walked up to her and asked her if she was Irish. Sometimes the papers described the typical Irishman, the man in front of Mary looked as if he fit the description, which was not a compliment.

“I am doing you no harm,” Mary said, trying her best to seem unafraid. She could see the detective edging closer, and wished that he would hurry and save her.

“Comin’ here to tell us how to live,” growled the man angrily. Mary was not actually certain how to respond to this, but the detective was beside her now.

“Let her be,” he suggested. The man rounded on the detective, and Mary had to resist the urge to close her eyes. She was fairly certain that this was going to be it. The detective was not a small man, but he certainly was not a hulking giant like their antagonist.

“So she can do what?” demanded the giant man, his fists clenched, voiced raised. “So she can go around sayin’ that we ain’t Christians? Your type come around every Sunday, to tell our kids that we are goin’ to hell, and ain’t that enough already?” Mary personally thought it probably was quite enough. She had come along for a fun trip and so far it was proving to be anything but fun. Even worse, a hostile crowd, attracted by the man’s angry voice, was gathering. Mary had no doubt that they were on the man’s side, the neighborhoods were like that. People might not get along with their neighbors on a day to day basis, but that did not mean they would allow an outsider to do their neighbor any harm.

“Should’ve stayed in the building,” muttered the detective. He pulled Mary into the doorway, and stood in front of her. It was clear that he meant to protect her no matter what happened. For a moment she wondered why it was that they did not simply return to the inside of the building, and then she realized. That would mean turning their backs on the crowd, and entering a building where they likely had allies. Even worse, they were in a place that they did not know well, but that the crowed knew by heart. Mary sincerely wished that she remembered anything of use from her childhood here, but that had been a long time ago, and memory was an uncertain thing. She wished that she could even recognize any of them, but that was no good either. Everyone had aged, if she had ever known any of the mob, she did not anymore, and they did not know her. No help could be expected there.

There were a couple of choices thus available to Mary, or at least a couple of choices that occurred to her. The first was that she could turn and run into the building. The detective had already decided to make his stand in the doorway and he could protect her retreat. Inside the building were the other detectives, and she could send them out to break up the mob. The second possibility was simply run while the detective kept the crowd busy. It was unlikely that Laura and the rest would come to any harm, this mob would attract the attention of the police soon and they would break it up, the girls inside did not need warning. In the end however, Mary dismissed both possibilities as unworthy of her. To abandon the detective to his fate while he tried to protect her would be shameful, especially since she knew he did not even care for her much. She pressed her back to the tenement door instead, and stood her ground with him. She certainly could not fight, she would do him no good on that score, but at least she would not leave him to be hurt of killed by a mob that was after her.

First came a rain of produce, stolen from a local vendor who complained loudly but did not try to stop the mob. He clearly knew what would happen if he did offer any resistance. Most of the projectiles hit the detective, but a cabbage and an apple that was slightly past prime hit Mary. The apple stained her dress, the one that she had so carefully laid out that morning, but she did not even think about it now. All she could think about was that once they had run out of produce they were likely to move on to stones. She doubted the detective would be able to shield her long when that happened. Even if she was not killed here, she was going to end up in a hospital, and then Peter would find out where she had been. No matter what happened she was going to be in trouble, and all of this because she was being confused with one of the wealthy young girls who were currently inside, probably happily oblivious to what was happening right outside of the building. Mary was suddenly very certain indeed that she was not one of them, that she had never had any business being in their company. Ann had been right, she was acting as a traitor, this was her street that she was on. The thought gave her courage. Someone had hit the detective in the stomach and he bent over double, winded. Mary stepped between him and the mob, now it was her shielding him.

“My father is a policeman, and the police will hear of this,” she shouted. She had not expected it to work, it had been said in desperation, but to her amazement the crowd did pause. It gave her enough time to think of what to say next. Her words came from her thoughts, the ones that she had been having all day, ever since she had set foot on the street. “My name is Mary Finnegan, and I am as Irish and as Catholic as yourselves. I came back to see my old home, I was raised in that building across the way, and this is the greeting my old neighbors give me is it?” Peter was going to be furious with her, she realized, taking a deep breath. She was saying everything that he had always wanted to hide. Now that she said it however, she felt no shame in it. It was who she was after all. In any case, he could only be furious with her if she was still alive to be angry with, and while the crowd was not breaking up, it was also no longer throwing things.

“You’d be having a brother named Peter?” shouted a voice from the crowd. It was clear some people had not moved away.

“That’s so,” agreed Mary. A man pushed his way forward through the crowd and looked her up and down.

“Then you’re tellin’ us lies lass, for your father died years ago. Danial Finnegan he was.”

“That’s so,” said Mary again. She was not tall but she held herself as erect as possible, having no wish to allow the man to stare her down. “But a policeman he was, and I’d be a fool not to still speak with some of his old friends.” She paused for a moment, and then remembered something that Peter had once said a long time ago, it came to her aid now. “Policemen look out for their own. I would be moving along now if I was you.” It took courage but she turned her back to the mob now, opened the door to the tenement building, and flounced in. The detective staggered after her, and closed the door behind them. They waited for a moment but no one followed them.

“What was that?” asked the detective, once he had his breath back. His voice was a little wheezy still, but it seemed that he was recovering.

“A lie,” said Mary calmly. “I do not know who Daniel and Peter Finnegan are, or were, but I doubt they will mind me claiming them as kin as it was an emergency.”

“We should leave while we can,” said the detective.

“I agree with you,” said Mary. Now that the adrenaline was leaving her body she felt brittle, as if she was going to fall and break. “It would not do to be here if they realize my lie.”

A Desire to Hide Part Twelve

The street in front of the tenement was teeming with business, and not just people walking past. There were match sellers, and flower girls, and street musicians, and door to door sales men in the neighborhood Mary lived in of course. They were all over the city. Mary had always considered the street a lively one. It was nothing like the street she now found herself on, and she wondered why it was that she did not remember in this way from childhood. Perhaps, she decided, it was simply that she had been so accustomed to it that she had never noticed it. Now she did however, and it seemed to her that all of the business in the area had spilled out onto the sidewalk and the street. There were vendors with hand carts, the grocer had most of his things out on the sidewalk where it would catch the eye, and there were stands selling every manner of thing imaginable. She was so overwhelmed by the scene that she forgot for a moment that the detective was standing beside her. It was only when several people glanced at her as they walked past that she became self conscious. Dressed as she was, she was bound to attract attention but at least if she did, she would give the impression she wanted to give. She rounded on the detective.

“If you must guard me, sir, I would like it very much if you did so at a distance. I do not care to be seen with you,” she said, using her most haughty voice. Laura used it rather a lot, and so she knew it well.

“Can’t do that, Miss, might not reach you on time if there was trouble,” he said. Apparently her haughty voice was not as good as she had thought, he did not look bothered in the least.

“If you do not leave me alone, I will be forced to call a police man and tell him that you are bothering me,” Mary threatened. To her shock, the detective looked amused.

“If you do, Miss, they will think you are like her,” he pointed to a young woman who was very clearly of the street. Mary had no doubt that she walked the street every night in fact, everything about the girl proclaimed prostitute. Apparently the girl had found that it paid to advertise. The detective grinned, “gentlemen often bother them.”

“That is hardly a fitting conversation to have with a lady,” said Mary, blushing deeply.

“It was a warning, Miss. I won’t get paid if you’re hauled in over a misunderstanding with the local rounds-man.” It occurred to Mary that apparently the poor opinion that police had for private detective was a mutual thing. The matter was clearly more complicated than Peter had ever made it seem. For the first time, she was inclined to ask the detective a question, it was a condescension but she wanted to know.

“You do not care for rounds-men then?” she asked.

“I do not care for any man who gains his promotion through snitching on his fellow policemen, Miss,” said the detective, his voice cold.

“Is that what a rounds-man does?” Mary asked. All that she knew about her father was that he had been a policeman, and not one who sat behind a desk or made good money. They had been poor and he had walked the street. Now she was learning there were different positions, even in that world, and that they were not all unified. She was suddenly very interested in what role in this world her father had played, and she was determined to ask Peter when she got home.

“That’s the long and the short of it, Miss. They wander about and find police men who are not doing their duty, and they report them. If they report enough they are considered good at what they do and are promoted.”

“If they policemen did as they ought, then surely they would have nothing to fear,” said Mary. She was not certain her father had been a rounds-man but she was determined to defend them just in case. Even if her father had been just a police man, she was certain he had never done anything that would have attracted the attention of the man who policed the police. He had been such a solemn man she could not imagine him doing anything immoral.

“Spoken like a missionary, Miss,” said the detective, his voice scornful. “Just keep clear of the rounds-men.”

It was strange, had they been anywhere else, Mary would not have minded the fact that he thought that she was a spoiled rich young lady who had no idea about the world. It was after all the image that Peter encouraged her and Ann to project. The twins tried very hard to make him happy, they owed him that much since he had raised them. On that street though, standing directly across from the tenement that she had spent her early childhood in, there was something deeply offensive about the idea. It was even more frustrating because she wanted to do something to prove him wrong but was not certain how to. She did not even know how to talk to him now. He clearly had no wish to continue their conversation. He stayed beside her, apparently feeling that it was his duty to do so, but he had his hands shoved deep in his pockets, and was slouched against the door. It was impossible for her to guess what it was that he was thinking, but she did know that he was not happy, and certainly not impressed with her.

A Desire to Hide Part Eleven

Mary had expected the dark and dirty corridor that greeted them. This was after all not the first tenement building that she had stood in. It was clear from some of the reactions of the other young women that her expectation had not been a universal one. About half of the girls pulled out scented handkerchiefs and pressed them to their noses to block the scent of the building which was hardly appealing. Mary followed their example, grateful that a scented handkerchief was a luxury that Peter allowed her. It was well worth the small expense at the drugstore to have the cloth scented if it meant that she could block the smell of aging beer, food, and urine from her nostrils. A couple of the girls also lifted their skirts to protect them from the dirt of the floor, but this was not something that Mary would dream of doing. To do so would be to show her ankles to the detectives who were walking behind her, and she felt that she had already given them enough entertainment at her expense.

Laura had a list of the people that she was to visit from her church, presumably families that had went to them for aid, though Mary could not imagine what sort of self respecting Catholic family would go to a protestant church for aid. She did not care that much either way, obviously or she would not be on this outing at all, but the way that Ann had spoken many people did care a great deal. Mary supposed that it really depended on just how close the family was to starvation. The neighbors would talk though, that was for certain. Then realization dawned for Mary, she was being foolish. This was an Irish neighborhood, that was certain. Her family was Irish, and had been Catholic, and had lived here, but that did not mean that all of the Irish who lived here were Catholic. Or at least, she did not suppose that they were. Mary realized just how little she actually knew about the Irish who were living in the city, except that they were supposed to be the source of most of the trouble in the city. Lazy, shiftless, slovenly, prone to fighting, drink, and lose ways. Of course it must be true, because they lived in such a fashion and no one would live in such a fashion if they were not all of those things. The only good thing that anyone seemed to be able to see in the Irish was that they were generous, and that only got you so far. You only had to open a newspaper to see evidence of this. The political cartoons, the wanted ads, everything proclaimed that the Irish were not to be trusted with a good days work, because you would never get it out of them. And to think that at one time she had been confused by Peter’s insistence that their family was no longer Irish.

It was with all of this in mind that she braced herself before entering the first rooms that were on their list. She need not have worried. They belonged to a washer woman, who was apparently, if nothing else, scrupulously clean. It was hard to imagine that she had time for it, not with all of the children who ran through the rooms. Mary thought that she counted five, but she would have been willing to admit that the count might not have been accurate since they were all young and running all over the place.

“Good morning Mrs. McLean,” said Laura, in a sing song voice. It was clear the whole thing was a game to her. “We have brought you some clothing for the children, and we will be teaching you how to make a good, cheap, nourishing soup today.”

Mary was not normally the sort of person who felt shame, she was normally too well adapted to shoving her way in to be embarrassed by much, but now, looking at the washer woman, she felt shame. Then she felt shame because she felt shame. No matter what she did, it seemed as if she was doomed to be a class traitor, for both sides. The problem was that she knew all too well, though the washer woman’s face was carefully expressionless, that the woman undoubtedly knew all too well how to cook a cheap soup out of just about anything you handed her. The problem was not a matter of not knowing how to cook the food that was good for her family, it was affording it. Now here was an offer of free food, only it was not really free, because what they were charging was the woman’s pride. Laura was the sort of amiable person who thought that the poor were children who needed the right way to live explained to them. Then again, she knew that Peter would be upset with her if she voiced any of these thoughts out loud, because that would be showing that she could sympathize with the poor, which was a little too close to admitting to having been poor.

“I think I need a little air, I am afraid I am feeling faint again,” said Mary. She was certainly feeling sick, that was certain. She rushed from the room, and down the steps, and then whipped around as she heard footsteps behind her. The boards of the tenement were not of a type that would allow for sneak attacks, they creaked too much. She was not certain what she would do if it was someone threatening, but at least she would be facing the person. It was a threatening person it turned out, but not in the manner she had feared, it turned out to be the detective who had mocked her before.

“You go a fair clip for a lady feeling faint, Miss,” he commented, that cheeky smile on his face.

“I just need air, why are you following me?” she demanded. She was not going to bother being polite, not to a private detective. He was certainly not a gentleman and therefore did not deserve a sir. He was hired by Laura after all, and that made him practically a servant didn’t it?

“You oughtn’t go out there alone, Miss, it’s dangerous. There are all types on these streets. In any case, your friend Ms. Huntsman has it all wrong, and I cannot stand to watch any longer,” said the detective casually. “Normally I step in when a client is making such a mess of things, but that was not the nature of my employment on this occasion and I do value my pay, which is rather extensive on this occasion. Normally I am a guide you see, this time I am just a guard.”

“You speak very freely,” said Mary, using her best affronted voice, “and take many liberties.” He grinned at her.

“Well I wasn’t hired for my manners, Miss, I find they get in the way of my occupation you see.” Mary was so shocked by his unconcern, even at her rebuke, that she said nothing in reply as they stepped out onto the street.

A Desire to Hide Part Ten

Mary had been correct in assuming that none of the young ladies of Laura’s acquaintance would allow the simple fact that they were on a mission of charity to stop them from wearing their very best clothing. Though Mary was wearing her nicest dress, she was far out shown by several of the girls, though not so badly that she was embarrassed. That was not to say that she was comfortable however. She had expected at least someone to ask after Ann, but no one had. Not even Laura, though it should have been her duty as hostess. Mary knew all too well that Ann was not a popular person at social gatherings, her rather puritanical views made her a difficult person to enjoy ones self around. There was always the vague idea that she was judging you. It was likely that Ann had only been invited out of politeness because Mary was invited, but Mary felt that that same politeness ought to mean that someone should ask why it was that Ann was not in attendance. She found herself telling random people in the group about her twin’s headache, simply to make herself feel better, to produce the illusion that they cared. She might have turned around and gone home, she was so annoyed, but she had made such a fuss about going that she did not feel that she could.

Mary was not much comforted when the guards for their expedition arrived. She had expected police men from the local precinct, but it turned out that Laura had obtained private detectives instead. Her doting father had clearly decided that the expense was well worth it, since it was all in the name of the safety of his little girl. Ann was right in thinking that she remembered more of their father and the past than her sister but that did not always mean anything. Peter for instance, though he had done his best to divorce himself completely from the legacy of their father, had heard so much against private detectives from his father that he was not able to remove the prejudice. Regular police had a good deal to say against private detectives, partly because they were competition, partly because they thought that they were better than regular police men, and not the least because they sometimes served as snitches. An innocent police man might for example simply be going into a tavern to use their privy, or might talk slightly too long to a woman who might turn out to be a street walker, and he would find himself in all sorts of trouble. People sometimes lacked understanding about matters such as small bribes as well, they did not seem to see as every regular police man did, that they were the grease that made the world work. Many a vendor would not have a business if he did not give the police a small bribe to ignore that he had spread his wares on the sidewalk.

Not that the police cared what a man did on duty most of the time, but there were perennial reform groups that did, and they refused to die no matter how much their attempts seemed like tilting at windmills. Sometimes these reform groups had the ear of a paper, and when a man’s name appeared in the paper for something such as looking the other way when walking past an innocent dice game, even the police chief sometimes had to take action. Peter, who expounded himself to be in full favor of reform, nevertheless had great difficulty swallowing the bitter pill of private detectives in the mix after all of this had been poured into his ears from a young age. All of this hatred had in turn been given to Mary, who eyed their escorts with great distrust as they made the ride from the respectable end of Broadway, to the less pleasant end.

Mary had always known that only a few blocks separated the shops that she enjoyed shopping at and the neighborhood that she had spent her early childhood in. Though Peter had never said anything about it, Ann had pointed down the street several times and had said that that was where they had once lived. When Mary had heard that they were going to go do missionary work, she had imagined going into one of the Italian neighborhoods for instance, not into a neighborhood where the accent of her childhood was being spoken on every step. She even thought that she recognized the building they stopped in front of, she was positive that she remembered the building across from it. Her memory for the past might not be wonderful, but she did at least know the tenement that she had called home for six years of her life. Strangely the only thing that she could think was that Peter would kill her if he ever found out. No matter what Ann said, Mary did not think Peter would mind even if she converted to Protestantism, but he would certainly mind if she was seen in their old neighborhood. Heaven help her if she was recognized.

“Alright, Miss?” asked one of the detectives, steadying her by her arm as she teetered on the steps of the cab that they had come in. She had never considered herself to be the fainting sort, but she now became painfully aware that her corset was too tight for her to breath right under this stress.

“Yes, thank you, just a little dizzy,” she said, pulling her arm from his grasp. He grinned at her, apparently not offended.

“No need to worry, Miss. It’s a rough neighborhood, but no one’s like to bother you when they see me and my friends here,” he said, jerking his head towards the other detectives. “You will be as safe as you are in your own house.”

“I am certain you are to be trusted,” Mary said, unintentionally allowing her doubt to fill her voice. She pulled herself together and began walking with the other women towards the tenement, but she felt herself blush as she heard his barking laugh behind her. The detectives followed behind, helping several servants to carry hampers of food and clothing that had been donated by the church that Laura was supposedly doing all of this for. Mary had her doubts. Mostly she suspected that Laura and the rest of the girls were doing this for fun. She had to admit though, she would be too, had Laura chosen anywhere else. It had to be laziness, this neighborhood was close, and therefore a natural target for a well wishing socialite.