Anthony M. Rud

“ Chicago, on a frosty evening in late October, is singularly unconcerned over the fate of any penniless male, no matter what his age.
That evening I faced the raw lake wind until ten o'clock. Then I turned in on a straight-backed bench in the La Salle Street Station. Next evening I was in exactly the same predicament, only much hungrier. Even good thick water of the kind Chicago drinks does not assuage hunger effectually. ”

“ Why I have been walking the streets or why I'm here to-night is strictly my own business. What is yours?”
“A fair question, but I can't answer it as fully as I'd like,” he returned, leaning forward. “When I saw you out there by the post office, crossing the street without looking at the cars that almost hit you, I was nearly certain that you were the man I wanted. Now I am sure of it. I want a desperate man, but a man who knows how to be a gentleman, who can conduct himself with ease and surety in a company of gentlemen.” ”

“ I had heard of fanatics existing for forty days without food, but even my fevered imagination could not picture me stalking about the Loop for that length of time. From the bottom of my heart I envied Jules, the deaf-mute who used to scrub the floor of our airdrome mess-room. He at least ate heartily and commanded the respect of the men around him. I could do neither, thanks to Morris. A detective agency had trailed him to Chicago for me, but there he had vanished.
When I am alone with thoughts of revenge they work me up to a white heat of anger. ”