Marion Marlowe Entrapped, or, The Victim of Professional Jealousy — page 13: what you’re looking at

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= * 5 . . *& S 4 ty -_ ages oe > » ua i te ‘¢ ’ a + f. MY QUEEN. Chinamen and kept a prisonef 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 eall them. Those yellow devils have a mania for white girls in this country.” “T think it is horrible,” said Marion, shud- dering, “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. 5 “Quick, Marion! Descyibe 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 an- swered. “He certainly was small and had a yellow- ish 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 spe- cial liking for ‘chow-chop-suey.’ ” CHAPTER VI. A GLIMPSE BEHIND THE SCENES. At half-past seven that evening Marion She was a trifle apprehensive of what was coming. As she tripped around to the stage door every per- son 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 Marlowe was at the theatre. 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 con- ceited actors and airy prima donnas. During her engagement so far she had sang only simple ballads, which were sand- wiched in between the regular scenes in a manner known only to comic operas and vaudeville. _ But the quaint, modest dress of the charm- ing singer, and, best of all, her freedom from conceit, had won the respect of even the crit- ics, which is a thing not easily done by any singer. Marion felt strange in the atmosphere of the monstrous theatre, yet she was fast be- coming 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. “lf it was not for Carlotta’s jealousy,” she whispered to herself, as she climbed the nar- row stairs behind the scenes—“but what can Ido 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: com- plexion, 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 1 in standit CONIC DOOKe (CO inn