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Newspaper Page Text
Wanted to question the man she
says is her "husband," Andy Yal
aire, whose hang-out is around
Eighteenth street and Wabash
So the police started out look
ing for Andy Valaire. They prob
ably will get him in two or three
Kittie Valaire herself is only 20
years old. Her maiden name was
Katherine Brosseaux, and she is
the daughter of a farmer named
Claremont, whose place is near
Valaire brought the girl from
her home to Chicago four years
ago when she was only 16. A
year later, he deserted her, and
she entered the underworld.
Kittie Valaire says that Valaire
married her before he took her
from her home. The United
States government has its doubts
about this and is investigating
Before the police raided Fein
berg's last night, a newspaper
man interviewed Kittie. He found
her sitting at a table with two
half-drunken men. An overwork
ed piano was grinding out "On
The girl herself looked out of
place. She has a striking olive
complexion. She would be taken
for a Spaniard if one did not know
she had negro blood in her veins.
She wore a white veil draped
carelessly over her head, and she
was laughing gaily.
The reporter called her to an
other table, and asked her if she
knew Teddy Webb and his gang.
"Yes," she said, "I know some
ot the people mixed up in the
Webb gang. I knew Belle Hast
ings well. She was my chum. . .
"But Belle was a d d fool to
get herself in bad the way she
did. She'll never get any rest
whether she's cleared of this or
"Don't I know these coppers?
When those boys get anything on
you it's good-night. I know. I've
had friends who just happened to
be around when a job was pulled
and they were grabbed off for it
and after that they never had a
"I knew McErlane Scotty we
used to call him very well. Poor
kid, I'm sorry for him."
As she spoke of Scotty McEr
lane, who is now in jail and under
half a dozen indictments, the slip
of a girl looked almots motherly.
After talking of McErlane she
fell silent for a few minutes.
"But I don't know Webb," she
flahsed at last. "Supposing I am
Belle Hastings' chum. That's no
sign I should know Webb."
The front door of the saloon
opened. Sergf. Payne and De
tectives Sheehy and Sullivan
oozed into the place. They called
"Who's in back?" they de
manded. "Italian Marie," said Feinberg,
"an' a fellow I don't know who
he is, but I think he's a gunman."
"Well, we want Marie, and I
guess we'll take the fellow, too,"
Whereupon, with great stealth
and drawn guns, the three detec
tives surrounded the back room