Chapter XII: Part 12

He was very happy, and so was Mary. They returned to New York duly, and in the course of a few weeks Mary, now Mrs. Mary ----, visited Mrs. Seymour, with her first batch of articles to be charmed. These were a watch, a very elegant one, profusely ornamented with diamonds, which had belonged to the old gentleman's former wife, but which Mrs. Mary had discovered that he had sometimes carried, and a large diamond ring which he had once worn, but which, on account of an injury to the finger which it fitted, he had laid aside, with some trinkets of value. Taking these to her "oratory," Mrs. Seymour pretended to have charmed them, and then brought them back to Mrs. Mary, and told her to get a box of suitable size, and place them in it, also the other things that she should bring, to get them charmed. While Mrs. Mary was consulting with her in regard to the box she should get, Mrs. Seymour happened to think of one which she had, and which she would as lief give to Mrs. Mary as not, and she went to her side-board drawer and brought a little square-shaped enamelled _papier-maché_ box, neat, but cheap; she said this would do, and it could be sealed so easily when it should be filled. Mrs. Mary wished to pay her for it, but Mrs. Seymour would not allow her to do so; and the box, with the watch, etc., in it, went off with Mrs. Mary, who had paid Mrs. Seymour the other twenty-five dollars. Mrs. Mary followed Mrs. Seymour's counsels as speedily as she could, and was soon at the latter's house with the other matters of jewelry, this time bringing a very valuable brooch, which was once the property of the former wife; and Mrs. Mary had a piece of her own cunning to tell Mrs. Seymour.

In order that the brooch might come under the rule of having been worn on the person of the husband, she had pinned it on to his night-shirt when he was asleep, and laid awake and watched it there for an hour or more. Mrs. Seymour rewarded this piece of stratagem with her august approval, and told Mrs. Mary that it would do just as well to lay the things under his pillow, and if she found anything more which he had not worn, to put it there. She suggested that whole sets of silver spoons could be placed there at any time; which was a happy thought for Mrs. Mary, who wished to get all the value she could into the box, and she told Mrs. Seymour that there was in the house, but never used, a set of gold spoons, a present from some of her husband's rich relatives. In time these were in the box. But to make the matter sure as to value, Mrs. Mary begged of her husband the sum of two thousand dollars one day, when he had sold a piece of real estate in Brooklyn, and realized some ten thousand dollars advance over cost. This money was charmed and put into the box, and finally Mrs. Seymour was slyly taken in a carriage to the house by Mrs. Mary, in order to put on the finishing stroke, and seal up the box. She took her wax and a peculiar seal with her; and Mrs. Mary and she, being duly closeted, the box was nicely sealed up, with all the valuables in it, money and all, amounting to about five thousand dollars. Mrs. Seymour then wished to be left alone in the room for a few moments, while she prayed, and invoked a peculiar charm on the box. Mrs. Mary, of course, consented. Presently Mrs. Seymour came out of the room, handed her the box, and went with her to the bedroom to see it properly deposited in its hiding-place,--all this while the gentleman was growing better and better, kinder and kinder, to his wife; and he was "splendid" to begin with, she said. But this increased affection was attributed to the charms. What would it not become if these remained near her there in the box for two months, as Mrs. Seymour directed?

After two months, Mrs. Seymour would call, if Mrs. Mary had no occasion to call her before, which she was to do, if her husband showed any signs of failing affection, and would then open the box for Mrs. Mary; for it was necessary, as a part of the work, that she should open the box in such a way as not to break the spell. The two months went past, and Mrs. Seymour did not call. Mrs. Mary sent for her to come, but found that she had left that house--gone to Brooklyn to live, somewhere. She tried to hunt her up, but unavailingly; at last, after some three months and a half had passed, she heard she was in Boston, and Mrs. Mary made an errand on there, her indulgent husband accompanying her, and there she privately sought for Mrs. Seymour. But she could not find her, and so let matters rest. But, eventually, her husband telling some relative visiting him, about the gold spoons, and seeking them to show him, failed to find them; and Mrs. Mary got very nervous over it, and at last told him that they were not stolen, as he suspected, but where they were; and after much mental struggle, told him how they came there. He was delighted with her great desire to preserve his love, for it was a most genuine case of deep affection on his part; but he gently laughed at her, nevertheless, and declared that Mrs. Seymour was a great cheat; that she had, by her chicanery, won the fifty dollars; "and she found you and your aunt such easy disciples," said he, "the great wonder is, that she did not abstract more money from you. But we'll open the box now, and get the spoons, and you'll do what you please with the rest;" and they opened the box, breaking the peculiar seals, and found----nothing but a few small stones and bits of iron, done up in cotton-wool, to keep them from rattling, and weighing, perhaps, as much as the contents supposed to be there.

It was evident then to the old gentleman, that the woman must have brought a box with her on her last visit to the house, a fac-simile of the one which Mrs. Mary had filled with valuables and money. The things were of such a nature, that the old gentleman said it was of no use to try to hunt up Mrs. Seymour and get them back. She would deny all; besides, there was the risk of his wife's being exposed in her foolish credulity, and he wouldn't have that known for ten times the value of the property lost, he said. So they agreed to let it pass.

But the thing preyed on Mary's mind. She wrote to her aunt,--who had then gone away,--a doleful story, and upbraided her partly for her connection in the matter. The poor old aunt was sadly affected, and insisted that some step ought to be taken to find Mrs. Seymour, and to punish her; and Mary felt so too, and talked about it till the old gentleman thought he would take some step about it, and he consulted me. "I have devised some plans; but they are good for nothing, and I've come over to tell you the funny story, and see what you think of it."

Such was the substance of the lawyer's tale; and we had a good laugh over it, and contrived together what might be done. I told him it was a hopeless case, pretty much, unless we could find Mrs. Seymour, and these things in her possession, which it was absurd to expect, unless, by inquiring of the parties who suffered the loss, I could learn more about the things taken. We both resolved that the watch was too valuable to be destroyed, and there might be other things saved, and sold, perhaps, here and there. Accident might give a clew to the whereabouts of Mrs. Seymour and the things.

The lawyer visited the parties, and got their consent to take me into the case, and I visited them--learned what things were taken; examined the box, and found on it a peculiar mark, which I copied exactly; and I also got an accurate description of the watch, with the maker's name, the number of the watch, and so forth. This was a superb affair for a lady's watch, and was worth, at least, with its chain and diamonds, eight hundred dollars. I concluded that it was not probably destroyed. It had perhaps been sold or pawned; and I made close search in many jewelers' establishments and pawn shops for it in New York, and not finding it, advertised for it in the Boston and Philadelphia papers, stating that the subscriber had such and such a watch, and would give a thousand dollars for its mate, "No. 1230," if in good condition, and added that it was known to be in this country. I signed "Henry Romaine Brown, Agent for the Earl of Derby," and made an address in Liverpool, England, and in New York. The object of this the reader can readily see. I soon got a letter from Baltimore, and in consequence found the watch. It had passed through several hands to the owner, the wife of a Mr. Hurlbut, a large merchant. He had answered the advertisement out of respect to the Earl of Derby(!), with no suspicion whatever that the watch had been stolen. Mr. Hurlbut required the property to be thoroughly proven as that of the old gentleman in New York, which it was fortunately easy to do, as the bill of it from the importing house had been saved. Still it was necessary to prove the theft, for it might have been sold; and here was a chance for a lawsuit, which the New York man did not want.

But Mr. Hurlbut was willing to advance some money, while he held on to the watch, to ferret out Mrs. Seymour. "Perhaps she could settle the matter, or had some relatives who could" he said. My client, too, took courage, and resolved to spend some money in the matter, and I went to work to find Mrs. Seymour. Meanwhile, through the peculiar mark on the bottom of the box, I managed to find out where Mrs. Seymour had purchased it, and learned, as I supposed before, that she had bought two on the same occasion; and, fortunately, I found that she had, when selecting the boxes, occupied a good deal of time, giving the clerk a great deal of vexation, and he felt sure he should know her. Besides, she had offered a counterfeit bill in payment for them; and when informed that the bill was bad, had declared her surprise, and rummaged her purse for good money, without finding enough into twenty-five cents, which she said she would call and pay next day, and so was allowed to take away the boxes. So the clerk thought he should surely know her, although the lady did not call the next day. I tracked Mrs. Seymour from her place in Grand Street, where her sign still remained, and business was carried on by a younger medium, who assumed her name, and divided the spoils with her, probably, over to Brooklyn, down to Philadelphia, where she sold the watch, and up to Boston.

Brady, her husband, had gone the rounds with her. I searched every possible place in Boston, and engaged a detective there. I had been able to secure several photographs of the woman, and of her husband, in New York; and with one of these, the Boston detective was able to make her out, he thought, one day. He followed the woman, and at last abandoned the "game," when he found that she was in company with people of high character, and entered with them one of the finest residences in Vernon Street; and, moreover, was told by a servant of the house that she was a Mrs. "_Bradley_," from Portland, Me. He concluded that he was mistaken. We finally learned Brady was not like "Seymour," an assumed name, and that the husband had wealthy relatives in Boston; and then conceiving that the detective might not have been mistaken in supposing he recognized "Mrs. Seymour," we laid siege to the Vernon Street house, till we satisfied ourselves that "Mrs. Bradley" and "Mrs. Seymour" were one and the same. But how did she get there? Boston is full of people, in high rank, who are spiritualists, and who keep "mediums" for themselves, and do not visit the advertising mediums, to be found there in such numbers, even to this day.

We traced Brady out too, and found him a chief clerk in a house on Washington Street, in which his brother was a partner. My friend, the detective, made his acquaintance, and managed to learn from him that he was worth several thousand dollars. He had two building lots in New York, which he had bought for a song, some four years before, but which would be worth, he said, fifty thousand dollars in less than ten years. My friend, the detective, wished to buy these, and they got on such good terms that Brady, in the course of a few days, accepted his invitation to "go down to York," on his, the detective's, expense, and when there showed him the lots, and told him confidentially that they stood in his wife's name, as he had failed in business some years before.

We thought we had enough materials together to commence the attack, and my friend, the lawyer, managed to bring a suit in such a way that the building lots were attached, and then wrote me at Boston to "go ahead." I proceeded at once to the house in Vernon Street, and inquired for Mrs. Bradley. She had, meanwhile, moved her quarters to the residence of a distinguished clerical gentleman in Hancock Street, whose wife was a spiritualist, and a "medium" besides. I called upon Mrs. Bradley there, and having a private "seance" with her as a "medium," until I thought I had studied her enough, told her that I was very much pleased with the communication she had brought me from my "deceased wife" (who was then living in New York, one of the healthiest and jolliest women in the land, and likely to live, perhaps, till the "spirits" are all dead); and that now I had a communication to make to her; and that I did not wish to disturb her peace, or expose her conduct in life, and should not do so if she kept quiet. She wanted to know "what in the name of goodness" I talked to her in that way for. I told her it wasn't I that was talking, that I was only the "medium" through whom Mrs. Mary ---- (using the full name now), of New York, was speaking, and that she had come to ask her what she did with that little charm box, and its contents, for which she substituted the box of stones and iron.

"Mrs. Bradley," _alias_ "Seymour," turned pale as a sheet, and _tried_ to swoon. She was a little too quick in the play, and hadn't declared, as her true rôle was, that she didn't know what I meant; so she waked up, and declared it; and I told her to be tranquil; that we had got the property all attached; knew where the watch was, and had her properly identified on the day she bought the _two_ boxes at such and such a store. I looked her calmly in the eye while I said this; and she was not at a loss to discover that I knew what I was saying.

"Now madam," said I, "all that we want is, that you save us the trouble and time of a suit. We shall arrest you, and have you taken to New York, and tried criminally, as well as prosecute the civil suit, unless you are willing to settle the matter quietly; and I can't give you any time. An officer is awaiting my call close by here;" (indeed, he was in the porch of the house at the time) "and unless you are willing to get your bonnet and shawl, and accompany me at once to Mr. Brady, and settle this matter, we will arrest you, and take you where you'll be kept safe till we get a requisition for you from the governor of New York."

"Mrs. Seymour" had had, as I knew before, more or less to do with legal matters, and she saw the force of things at once. She accompanied me to the store where her husband was engaged, the officer following at a proper distance; and I managed to cool the husband's assumed wrath when I came to tell him of the charges against her, he asseverating her virtue and innocence in terms that savored of Milesian profanity.

"Mr. Brady," said I, "I am glad to see a man so brave a champion of his wife; but you are only making matters worse. _She_ don't deny the charges; the property is under attachment, and the officer is at hand, and she will be arrested in less than five minutes" (taking out my watch to look at the time), "unless you cool down and come to terms. You, too, know all about the business, and would probably prefer to escape arrest also--wouldn't you?"

He looked at me for an instant, then at his wife, and said,--

"Well, I suppose we'll have to give in for now; but I'll carry the matter under protest, up to the United States Supreme Court before I'll be trampled on."

This boast seemed to relieve him, and we all left the store and went to my friend's, the detective's, office on Tremont Street, where the preliminaries of a settlement were entered into. The watch we wanted back at any rate; the rest of the jewelry was scattered here and there, only that Mrs. Seymour had preserved a nice string of pearls, worth some three hundred dollars. There was not much "higgling" over the estimate of value of the various articles, and the two thousand in money, of course, went in at its value. In all, the bill footed up about thirty-six hundred and fifty dollars, besides five hundred--(which was too little)--for the expenses we had been at. Suffice it that those building lots in New York changed hands soon after, "in due legal form," and that a thousand dollars in money besides left Brady's pocket, and found its way where it could pay "expenses," etc. The building lots have sold since for far more than Brady's estimate of "fifty thousand dollars in ten years." The old gentleman and his wife Mary were delighted with my success: of course Mr. Hurlbut delivered up the watch for the price he paid for it, which it was proper he should ask, inasmuch too, as Brady had given us the money, or its equivalent for it, and more too, and Mrs. Mary said she should carry it till her dying day, "to ward off mediums and sorcerers, as the Puritans nailed horse-shoes to door-posts as protection against witches"; and I venture she's faithfully wearing it now for that purpose, and as a souvenir of the old gentleman, her good husband, who is now dead.

I was so much pleased with the cunning and skilful address of Mrs. Seymour, that I cultivated her acquaintance, and by a "close study" managed to learn a good deal of her art, and came to a knowledge of the great extent to which mediums are consulted by people of the first classes; and was astonished to find how readily they fall, through the superstitious element in their composition, victims to the sorcerer's arts. It would require volumes to cite the instances which occur yearly in New York city alone. Boston is not a whit behind in this, notwithstanding she boasts herself the Athens of America; but, perhaps, she so boasts because she worships so many different idols--has as many gods as the Greek mythology embraced. In proportion to her population her dupes of superstition are more numerous than those of New York.

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THE DISHONEST CLERK, AND THE FATAL SLIP OF PAPER.

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IN AN UGLY MOOD WITH MYSELF--A VISIT FROM A CINCINNATIAN--A LOSS
DETAILED--THE FATE OF A BANKING-HOUSE RESTING ON "COLLATERALS"
STOLEN, WHICH MUST BE RECOVERED--A LAWYER FIGURES IN THE MATTER
AND IS BAFFLED--THE THIEVES SPECULATING FOR A SETTLEMENT--THE
SCHEME LAID FOR THEIR DETECTION--A BUSINESS VISIT TO THE
BANKING-HOUSE--THE CHIEF CLERK SENT TO CHICAGO ON BUSINESS--A
SEARCH REVEALING LOVE LETTERS, AND A LOVELY LITERARY LADY--ON
TRACK OF MYSTERIOUS "PAPERS"--THE FATAL SLIP OF PAPER--THE WAY
THE STOLEN BONDS WERE RECOVERED--THE CHIEF CLERK, AND HOW HE
WAS "ENLIGHTENED"--A NOVEL AND QUIET ARREST IN A CARRIAGE--THE
CLERK'S CONFEDERATE CAUGHT--THE PROPERTY RESTORED--THE SCAMPS
DECAMP--THE INNOCENT LITERARY LADY'S EYES OPENED.

I was sitting in my office one day, meditating over a case I had had in hand to work up, for some four months, off and on. An hour before one of the parties interested in the matter, and who had furnished considerable money to press the investigation of the affair had left my office in a state of dissatisfaction, evident enough to me, although his interest compelled him to express in words his pleasure at the course I had taken, and his hope that my theory of the case would soon be worked into practical demonstration. But I fancied, nevertheless, that he had secretly resolved to abandon the matter, or to abandon me, and procure some one else to undertake the job; and I was conjuring in my mind who this might be, whom he would secure to aid him; and resolving myself into a happy state of mind that this point, namely, that he could find nobody who could or would for the like slight encouragement I had had, undertake the affair, and into a somewhat unhappy state of mind on this other point, namely, that I had been induced to enter upon the work upon too slight amount of facts, and accusing myself of stupidity in so doing, I had resolved that I would never undertake a like case, involving so much work, with such little probability of success, for there are some things which may baffle the oldest detective's skill as surely as the simplest peasant's brain. I was in an ugly mood with myself, when there entered my office an excited looking man, who accosted me--"You are Mr. ----?"

"Yes, sir."

"The very man that worked up that case for Coe and Phillips, two years ago?"

"Yes, sir; I suppose I am _the_ man," said I, emphasizing the article "the;" "but what of it, what if I did?" said I, in a mood which I was conscious was not very attractive, and with a look, I suppose, not over-enticing, for the man "hitched" unpleasantly in his chair, and seemed confused. "What of it? Why do you ask?"

He still looked disconcerted, but taking from his pocket a file of papers, carefully thumbed them over, and drew out from them a letter of introduction to me from Mr. Coe, in which Mr. Coe said that his friend had an affair on hand in which he thought I could serve him, and he had commended me to his friend.

"Ah, you are a friend of Mr. Coe? Well, I see this note is dated over a month ago. Why have you delayed to bring it to me before?"

"O, I'll explain. I live in Cincinnati, and was here on business at the time, stopping at Mr. Coe's. I told him my story, got this note from him, and intended to see you in a day or two; but a telegram called me home,"--(or "telegraph message," as he said, for this was before the days when some happy genius coined the felicitous word "telegram"), "and I have come again on business, and so have brought the note."

"Is it in Cincinnati that I must work, if I enter upon the matter you may have to relate to me?"

"Yes, sir, I suppose so; in fact, yes, of course, for there the robbery was committed."

"O, a robbery, eh? Well, I don't think you had better tell me of it. It's too far away, and I have enough to do here; more than I wish I had of the kind which falls to my lot these days, and you can get detectives in Cincinnati who can afford to work for you cheaper than I could."

"There you are mistaken," said he; "I cannot get any detectives in Cincinnati who can do me any good. I tried the best, and they were baffled, and so I had told Mr. Coe when he recommended you."

"I am greatly obliged to Mr. Coe for his good opinion, but your case is a desperate one, if the best detectives of Cincinnati have had it in hand; and I suspect I could not do you the least good. You'll waste your money, I fear."

The man looked for an instant as if he were shot; and then, suddenly recovering himself, he exclaimed, with an energy and fierceness of purpose which pleased me, "But, sir, something _must_ be done, and we must spend all our ready money or go to the wall, at any rate; things are getting complicated in our business, and we must fail in more than one way, _if_ we do not succeed."

"You say 'we.' Are there others involved besides yourself?"

"Yes; my partners, two of them."

"I see that Mr. Coe has not told me your business, merely calling you his 'friend.'"

"Yes, I suppose he thought best to let me tell you my whole story myself; and I would like to do that, although you seem unwilling, sir."

I smiled, and said, "O, no, sir, not unwilling, for it is my business to listen to all such things; but you found me in a grum mood when you came. Have you never passed days in which you wished you were out of your present business, and in some other that you envied."

"Yes, yes," said he excitedly; "and of late I've wished so all the while, for reasons I shall give you."

"Well, go on with your story, I am a good listener."

"The whole matter is in a nutshell," said he, "so far as the crime committed is concerned, and I'll tell you that first. We are bankers, and have lost out of our safe ten thousand dollars in money, and negotiable paper, securities, collaterals, and the like for over thirty thousand more. We have obligations maturing; some have matured already, and we have been pinched to meet them, and the rest we cannot meet without these securities;" and then he went on to tell me when the loss was discovered, etc.

"Well," I broke in, a little impatiently, "if you have _lost_ those papers, what do you propose? To find them?"

"Yes, to get them back; that's what we want. The money has gone, of course,--we don't expect that or any part of it,--but we must have the papers--the collaterals; and here I must tell you, that about a week after our loss we received a note from a lawyer in Cincinnati, saying that he had been visited by parties claiming to reside in Kentucky, asking him to communicate with us, and saying that they were ready to deliver up 'those papers,' which they knew to be valuable to us, upon our coming to the terms which they left with him to communicate to us orally; that he did not know whether the story was all a hoax or not, but if we knew what it meant, we might call on him, and he would narrate the rest. I hurried to see him on receipt of note. He was a stranger to me personally, but I knew him by repute as a lawyer of fair standing, and a man of good social status. When he came to tell me the offer which these parties made, which was to deliver up the papers through their attorney--himself--for fifty per cent. of their face value (for at this point I had only told him that I knew what the parties meant, and had come to hear their offer), I asked, 'Do you know for whom you are dealing? Do you know how these papers came into the possession of the parties?'"

"No; I know nothing of them, more than I tell you. But explain to me how the papers came into their possession."

"By robbery," said I; "those parties are burglars or worse."

"Robbery!" he exclaimed, "and the villains wished to make me a middle-man in the transaction! Tell me all about it, and we'll see if we can't turn the game upon them. Consider me your attorney; it shall cost you nothing,--the scoundrels!"--and he brought his fist down upon his table with a blow that made it quiver. "If I've got to that pass," said he, "that scoundrels dare approach me in this way, it is time I give myself a close examination, and reform, if need be. Please to tell me all about the affair."

"I told him the facts of our loss, and our situation; how the money and papers must have been taken out of our safe by some one who had obtained knowledge of the numbers of the permutation lock; and he asked at once, as you will do, about the clerks, my partners, and so forth, and said some one of them was the villain. But no matter for this now. We laid plans which failed; and he concluded that after all, it must be the work of some one in the office, but how to catch him, was the question; and I cannot think that any of my partners or my clerks is the man, for we have exhausted all schemes in trying to fix the crime on any of them, and failed signally."

"Well, is that all you've got to tell me?"

"No; I've not told you my story yet but in part. When shall I begin again?"

"When you please; but first tell me, perhaps, about your partners, and your clerks, each by himself; who he is, how long he has been with you, and what his age, his habits,--all about him."

So Mr. Redfield--(the reader understands always that assumed names are given in these narratives, where there exists a proper reason for so doing)--Mr. Redfield, as we will call him, went into a minute description of the men, each by himself, and I confess I was baffled. I said to him that it must be that some one of those was the guilty party, yet that nothing he had told me would allow me to suspect one of them for a moment; that my impression of the guilt of one of them was solely the result of the common-sense reflection that somebody who understood the safe-lock, with its numbers, must be the man who took the money and papers: that was all. And in fact I suppose it was, because the case at this point became so desperate, or difficult of solution, that I undertook it all; for if I could have hit upon some expedient which would seem to me likely to work out the problem, I should, in my state of mind at the time, have given Mr. Redfield the advantage of it, for a small counsel fee at most, and declined to go on; but it was just enough unsolvable at this point to vex me, and pique my pride. I did not wonder that the best detectives in Cincinnati had failed, for I could easily see that the scoundrels had only to keep these papers hid in some unsearchable spot, and exercise ordinary care--indeed be quite careless--and never be found out, unless their greed should at last betray them.

It was evident to me, from what Mr. Redfield said, that the parties had become suspicious of the lawyer they visited, for some reason; for they never visited him again, and neglected to answer a rather ingenious advertisement that he published in one of the papers. But they had again managed to communicate with Mr. Redfield, and repeated their offer; and had sent him the form of an advertisement to put in the paper, if he concluded to accept. But he delayed beyond the day they named, unwilling to accept, and still hopeful of detecting the villains, and getting back the full papers for nothing; and thinking better of it, a day or two after, he had published the advertisement, but they had not regarded it; probably, as I judged, because they thought he had laid some plan to trap them. So when he went, "armed to the teeth," he said, out to a lonely place, as indicated in their letter, about five miles, to meet somebody, there to make further arrangements, nobody came.

They were very wary then, and it was evident that they would, as they threatened in their note,--for the writer represented that there were two of them,--destroy the papers unless they got their price for them, and in a manner, too, secure to themselves. They could "afford,"--the wretches!--to lose the papers, for they had made ten thousand dollars in money, at any rate, they kindly wrote.

I insisted that this mode of proceeding on their part indicated an acquaintance with the bankers' business,--showed that they knew the great value of these papers to the firm,--and that this was a further reason for suspecting some one in the office. But Mr. Redfield persisted in believing that the Cincinnati detective had settled that point against my opinion.

Well, it was agreed that I should go on and take my own way to work up the matter, and Mr. Redfield left. I followed him in a day or two, with my first plans matured, and with all such implements, clothes, etc., for disguises which I thought I might need, and met him at a place appointed. My first course was to go into the banking office, with papers in hand of business to be done with the chief, Mr. Redfield; to be delayed there with him talking a long while over the matter of loans on some Western lands, and to engage his assistance in raising capital for a manufacturing concern to be established at Minneapolis, Minnesota. His partners were to be kept profoundly ignorant of my real character, and one of them was to be called into our conference regarding the lands, etc., whenever I indicated. This was the plan I made for getting a chance to slyly study the clerks and the younger partner--for it was out of the question that the older partner could be engaged in the theft.

I went to the banking-house as arranged, called for Mr. Redfield, gave him my name; "made his acquaintance," etc., rather rapidly; and while I was doing so, cast a listless glance around me, and chanced to find the chief clerk's eyes staring at me in a manner not merely of ordinary curiosity. There was a gleam in them which I did not like, and in an instant I changed our plan of operations, and said, "Mr. Redfield, can't I see you in private?"--taking an easy-going look about the room, and not neglecting to take in the clerk in the sweep of my eye. He was writing, and there was a nervousness about the shoulders, a flush in the face, and his lips seemed much compressed. "Guilt there," said I to myself, as Mr. Redfield stepped into the private room.

The door was closed by Mr. R----, who asked, "Why do you change the programme? What have you seen?"

"Enough," said I; "and now the question is how well can you play your part? I know that a man in your office is the guilty party."

Mr. Redfield looked a little astounded at my rapid operations, and replied, "Well, you are to work up the case according to your own methods; but you surprise me."

"Well," said I, "let me alone, then; let's talk up the Western lands, etc.;" and we did--I laughing outright, immoderately at times, telling Mr. Redfield a story or two, which made him laugh in real earnest; and after we'd fixed up a plan, he went out smiling, asked his older partner to come in to see me, saying, "He's the queerest speculator I ever saw; come in, and see if we can do anything for him." And the man came in. We talked, could not get near a bargain, and I finally left the bank, saying to Mr. Redfield that I'd "write in a week or so; perhaps they'd think better of the offer."

I was not at a loss to see, by the clerk's countenance and manner as I went out, that he was at ease again--which was all I wanted to then effect.

Mr. Redfield and I met that night in a place appointed. He told me they'd had much fun in the office over the "queer speculator," and that his partner had no suspicion of my real business at all; and we entered into a serious conversation. I told him that the chief clerk was the guilty man in my opinion, and that I should proceed upon that theory, and pursue it till forced to give up in that direction, and then drop the matter; that there was no use of attempting anything without the clerk in the programme.

We talked over the matter, and I learned where the clerk kept his private rooms--for he boarded at a hotel, and roomed in a block of business offices and dormitories; and what at first surprised me was to learn that he had left much better rooms within a month or so, since the robbery, and taken up with poorer ones. Mr. Redfield could give me no information as to his habits, save what he judged and what the detectives had reported--all good. But somehow I suspected that there must be a woman involved in some way--a mistress, perhaps, whose extravagance had led astray the clerk, whom we will call Childs, to need more money than he could legitimately make. So I told Mr. Redfield that we must search Childs's room and private papers, if he had any; and it was arranged that Childs should be sent on business to Chicago for two or three days. Mr. Redfield had no difficulty in arranging that, and Childs departed, highly honored with his chief's confidence.

We managed without much trouble to get into Childs's room, where everything but his trunks were first searched,--not excepting the minutest scraps of letters in a wastebasket,--where I found evidences of female correspondence. Further search among some books, on a little shelf at the top of a clothes-press or "closet," revealed some more in the same handwriting--sweet little _billets-doux_, longer letters, etc.,--all passionate, very,--sometimes complaining, etc.

None of these had envelopes, and I therefore judged that they were written in the city, and sent through the post office, and that Childs probably always, at once, destroyed the envelopes. I should say that none, except some evidently old ones, had envelopes. There was no date or place, save "My little room,"--"Our dear boudoir," or something like that,--and sometimes a further day,--"Thursday Morning,"--"Monday Evening." It was evident to me that the charmer lived in the city somewhere; and I had already made up my mind that she must be tracked out as the first step, when, turning over a letter from this female, the rich, passionate, burning language of which, well-expressed, had led me on, I came to the conclusion, and found--"I have not received pay yet for that article. R---- must not think that he can neglect me as he did Hattie; I will be paid for what I write--something, at least. I guess we shall have to visit him together;" and with very affectionate words of parting, the letter closed. And then came a P. S. "Every day I grow more uneasy about _those papers_. I wish you would take them away. What if I should suddenly die, and they should be found with me? You said they were very valuable--and you may lose them. I should regret that. Come _to-night_, dearest."

Ah, ha! here was a literary lady,--a contributor to the story or other papers,--wrote a good hand, and in good style of composition; was evidently on loving terms with Childs. I was in doubt whether mistress or only ardent lover; could not tell that till I should see her, if then. She must be seen. How to find her? Easy enough, perhaps, but maybe not. We left Mr. Childs's room in good order, and separated for the night, I giving Mr. Redfield no more insight into the modes I intended to pursue next day than necessary.

The next morning I started for the newspaper offices with a portion of one of the letters I had found, made a proper story of wishing to engage the literary services of the writer of the letter if I could find her, but that I knew not her name; as her friend, who had given me the portion of the letter to show her style, and had not yet given me her name, had been called off to New York by telegraph, I found,--wanted to find her that day.

At the first office I entered nobody could tell me anything. But on entering the second one, and finding the associate editor, and asking him if he recognized that writing, he looked up and smiled, as if he thought I had a joke for him.

"I guess I do," said he.

"Well," said I, "there's a dispute about it."

"Let's see," said he, in a hasty, nervous way, snatching it from my hand, and glancing at it again. "No dispute about it; that's our ---- ----" (using her _nom de plume_, which I won't repeat, as she is probably living, and many old friends might recognize her in this tale, and learn more than they are entitled to know).

"Where can I find her?" said I; "I want to see her about some writing."

"All right," said he, making some marks on a paper, which I found to be name of street and number of house. "There's where she was the last I knew of her, two months ago. I think you can find her through that."

"Would you give me a note to her, as I am a stranger?"

"Why yes, such as I could. I don't know your name; but stay--no," said he; "give me that paper again;" and taking it, he put his initials to it, and the name of office and date of day. "That will be enough--good as a more formal note," said he; and he caught up his pen, and proceeded as if something was on his mind. "You must excuse me, sir; I have a great deal to do to-day. Can I assist you any further now?"

I replied, "No; I thank you for your courtesy;" and bowed myself out. I was as confident now that I should trap Childs as if the thing was done; but there were two of them, and they must both be caught. Childs could not be carrying on this correspondence with the lawyer and writing to Mr. Redfield, that was patent. I would watch Childs that night, and see if he went to the lady's residence. He did go, and as they took a walk out, I saw her,--got a good view of her face, and made up my mind that she was innocent of any intelligent complicity in the matter. I liked her looks very much. She was one of those impulsive, earnest creatures, who, when they love, love desperately, but who know not how to hate, as some women know, who also know how to love intensely,--a miserable class of women, in my opinion, although novelists love to paint them, and these women themselves are ever boastful of their twofold power of love and hate,--a mean boast of a mean character of soul. I saw that she loved Childs, and I was sure she respected him, and what I should do I knew not exactly; but following them in their walk and back, and waiting till he left her, and went on his way to his office, had given me much time to think, and I had resolved upon a course which I thought the next day would see consummated; when, returning to my quarters, I found a note from Mr. Redfield, begging me to meet him at a certain place that night,--by no means to sleep without seeing him. He would be there at such an hour, and at such other hours till he met me. Something important had happened.

I sought Mr. Redfield as requested; found that he had that afternoon received a note from the parties, again requesting him to meet them, or one of them, next day, at a place near Covington, Kentucky, and to come prepared to "take up the papers, according to our offer," in the afternoon, at six of the next day. Mr. R---- was greatly excited; said that this was their "last call," as they expressed it; that the papers would then be destroyed; "and that will be the last of our house," he tremblingly muttered.

I had been looking the letter over carefully meanwhile, not at all disturbed, for I felt that Childs would not long be out of our hands, when I chanced to reflect that the paper on which it was written was like some of that on which the lady's letters to Childs were written; and I said to myself, probably he has supplied himself and her some time with the same kind of paper; but this is not his or her handwriting. "No, she's innocent," I muttered to myself; "I am satisfied of that;" but the paper was like, and that, though a slight thing, helped to steady me in my opinion of his guilt. I handed the letter to Mr. Redfield to replace,--he having taken it from the envelope before giving it to me,--when, placing it back, a small slip fell out of the envelope as he turned it upside down.

"What's this?" said I, as I picked it up; "we must scan everything."

It was a narrow strip, and on it was written, "My dearest A----." (It was the lady's name, as it proved.) I was astounded, for I had seen Childs's writing, and this was like it for all the world. It was his, indeed--so Mr. Redfield decided. But how came it in there? When Mr. Redfield opened his letter it had not fallen out. He had cut the end of the envelope. I took the envelope, and rounding it out, peered in, and satisfied myself, from its shape, that the writer had done what I frequently do, with the old-fashioned envelopes especially,--put in a piece of paper to keep the gluten from sticking to the letter, as it will, when wet and sealed, in many kinds of envelopes. In handling the envelope, and opening it a little to put back the contents, this paper, if stuck at all, had "chipped off." But how came the address there in Childs's hand? Either the letter had been written in a poorly-lighted place, or a careless or drunken confederate had slipped the strip we found into the letter, without noting both sides. But really _how_ it came there I did not care--it was there.

"Mr. Redfield," said I, "that clerk's game is up. Give me the letter; ask no questions, but to-morrow morning, as soon as he comes in, make occasion to send him off on business which shall detain him till into the afternoon, if you can; or provide business for him here that shall occupy him beyond noon-time. Better send him out of town. I want to get over to-morrow noon."

Mr. Redfield said that fortunately he could send him out of town to see parties about a mortgage, and he would send somebody along with him,--his servant,--and tell him to be sure to not get in before two or three. The boy will do what I say, and ask no questions and tell no tales. My word is law with him, and Childs will have to walk back twelve miles, or hire somebody to bring him in, for the boy won't come till I tell him to.

Next morning I was up betimes. Childs was out early before going to the office, taking a morning walk with his lady. He carried no bundle away from there, and I tracked him to the office. I felt safe now: and now for the final work, I thought, for I was sure that Redfield would pack off Childs duly, and the coast would be clear. I had gotten possession of the lady's name meanwhile, and proceeded to her boarding-place, called for her, introduced myself, talked with her about literary matters in my own way, not at great length, and was delighted with the innocence of the girl. I had formed no fixed mode of procedure when I entered the house, but I was resolved to wait till I saw her, and the longer I talked with her the more convinced was I that she was innocent and artless, and that a pretty direct way was the best to approach her by.

So I said, "Well, you'll pardon me, Miss ----, but Mr. Childs told me I would be pleased to chat with you, and I have--"

"What! you know Mr. Childs? He's always saying flattering things of me."

"O, is he? Well, perhaps he didn't say anything especial to me, then; but I was going to say that I called on business. He's going out of town to-day, and he had to start earlier than he expected; just gone; wasn't going till afternoon--"

"Yes, he told me he was going over to Covington in the afternoon," she broke in.

"Yes," said I, "and he said that he wanted you to give me _those papers_; said you'd understand what he meant. I am to meet him, and this, he said, would be enough word for you" (handing her the slip of paper, 'My dearest A----.') "He was in haste." She took it, blushed, and said, "Yes, this is his writing. He writes nicely--doesn't he? Excuse me, I will be gone but a moment," and she hied up stairs to her room, as unsuspecting as a dove. I was surprised at the success of my simple stratagem, but I had others behind it, which would have worked had that failed. She came down stairs, bringing a nicely sealed package.

"That is what he wants," said she. "You will be careful of it, of course, or he would not have sent you. You are his friend--a mysterious man I've heard him speak of; and I must tell you," she said, laughing heartily, "that I've told him I did not like that friend very well, keeping him away from me so much."

"O," said I, "no harm I hope. Men have their business arrangements together,--their speculations,--and can't always be as gallant as they would."

"O, I know it," said she. "I don't complain. I was only joking him."

It was evident to me that that woman had not the remotest thought of Childs's being aught than as noble and pure as she; and as I took the package, folded it in a newspaper, and left the house, I felt for her to the bottom of my heart, so much so, that I at first resolved to not tell Redfield how I had obtained the package, but to give him up the papers, tell him to dismiss the clerk, get my pay, and leave; for I thought it would break her heart to find Childs so great a scoundrel; that perhaps he, finding himself foiled, would never be guilty of a crime again; would seek some other spot, reform, and marry her, and make her ever happy.

These thoughts I revolved in my mind as I passed on to my lodgings, and when I got there I opened the package. Lo! all the papers, so far as I could judge, and something more,--a letter or two, in a scrawly hand, with some rude drawings of roads, a sort of diagram, on a page of one of them. I deciphered the letters, and found that Childs's correspondent spoke, in one of them, of that "little fool of yours," evidently meaning Miss A----; and said something else, which I knew he would never have said had not Childs given him occasion. In short, I saw that Childs's respect for her was feigned; that he was only fooling her, and my mind changed towards him; besides, there was his confederate, and we must have them both. I hurriedly repacked the papers, proceeded to the bank, called Mr. Redfield into the private room, and showed him what I had got. He was confounded, of course. I said, "What shall we do with them?"

"Seal them, and put them in the safe for to-day. I want to arrest that villain Childs now," said he, "for I understand how you've come by these. We've no time to lose."