Part 22

"Foolishness," said Mr. Hale; "no policeman can track that fellow. He's too keen; besides, who knows but he'll take the train for Philadelphia or somewhere. I don't believe he lives here. Here's his card, to be sure, but who knows that it's not a fraud? Let's hunt the directory," and the bar-keeper brought forward the desired directory. No "Harry Clarkson Dubois" was to be found in it. The gentlemen looked confounded and dejected, and Hale said, "Well, Clemens, let's go back to the ladies. They've more wit than we. You know what your wife said. If we'd taken her advice perhaps we should have got out from here in time to catch the villain," and so they sauntered back.

I did not feel like making myself known to them. They might take me, perhaps, as Harry's coöperator, and so I silently watched them leave. Turning the matter over in my mind a moment, I resolved upon the best course to pursue. Harry must be come upon that night if I were to succeed with him, I saw. I had known his lodging-room three months before, but had heard he had changed quarters; where to hunt him was the point. I bethought me of a boarding-house keeper in West 13th Street, with whom Harry once boarded, and who, not knowing his real character, had great respect for him, and whom, too, Harry evidently really respected, for I had been told that he always spoke of her in terms of admiration. I fancied she would be as apt as any one to know where were his quarters, and I took a carriage, and drove immediately to her house. Fortunately she was at home; and on inquiring of her if she could tell me where I could find Mr. Dubois the next morning, for I did not let her know my haste, she said that she guessed I'd be most apt to find him in his office in Pine Street, No. 34; that he had applied to her for board two days before, with which she could not accommodate him for a week or so to come; so he said he would sleep on a lounge in his office, and take his meals out till she could give him quarters, and that the day before he sent up for blankets, with which she had supplied him.

My plan was complete. Hurrying away from her house, I ordered the driver to push straight for my rooms, where, arming myself completely, I drove on as far as the post office, when, ordering the driver to await my return, I alighted, and proceeded to 34 Pine Street. As it chanced, next door was the office of my friend, the late Simeon Draper, and I was not a little pleased to find a light there, and one of his clerks and another man looking over some papers, as I saw through the window. Tapping on the door, it was readily unlocked, and I said to the clerk, who recognized me, "No questions asked; but let _me_ inquire if you are going to be here for fifteen minutes longer?"

"Yes, for an hour, perhaps."

"Well, I may call again."

"Do so--are you after a 'bird'?" asked the clerk, with a knowing wink in his eye; for he very quickly divined that I was on some detective mission; for Mr. Draper had been a frequent patron of mine, and often sent this clerk to me on business.

I closed the door, and ran up two flights of stairs to "Dubois's" room, and immediately rapped upon the door.

No noise within--all silence! Had the bird flown? I thought not. I believed he was there. Again I rapped.

"Who's there?" asked a half-sleepy voice.

I replied, "O! you're asleep, Mr. Dubois--are you? Well, no matter. It's a case of exigency. I knew you were here; saw you as you came in; and there's a man fainted away in Draper's office, and I'm alone with him, and want you, if you will, to watch him while I run for a doctor. Don't mind to dress yourself more than half--come quickly," and I started away rapidly down stairs, and returned as rapidly, and rapping on the door again, exclaimed, "Get ready, and run down as quick as you can, while I go for a doctor. The door's unlocked; but see here, he may revive, and want some stimulus. Here's the key to the back closet. There's a bottle of brandy there. Here, take it."

The unsuspicious Harry opened the door slightly to take the key, when I pushed in. On his finger gleamed that very ring. He was but half dressed, coat off, a muscular fellow, and just in trim for fighting. I saw the situation, and pulling out a pistol, clapped it to his face, and extending my left hand, said, "It's no use, Harry; give me Mr. Clemens' ring without any noise, or I'll call the officers at the door below."

Harry was never before so confounded; protested he had no ring but his own.

"We'll see," said I. "Mr. Hale will be here in a moment. If he comes, it's all day with you. He can identify the ring, and--so--can--I. Give it to me at once!" I exclaimed, with a stern voice.

Harry saw that I knew all about it, and yielded, begging me to not expose him. I assured him I had no care to do so; but should exact of him the expenses I had incurred for the carriage, which, at that time of night, would be about fifteen dollars; which he quickly took from out a large sized roll of bills from his inner vest pocket. The gas he had lighted when he rose to dress, was turned on at full head, and gleamed like a spectre through the room. I examined the money to see that it was not counterfeit, put it in my pocket, and bade Harry "good night," telling him I guessed the man in Draper's had recovered by this time, and that he needn't trouble himself to go down.

I drove to my rooms, paid the driver, and having deposited the ring in my little safe, went to bed, and pondered on the next step--the finding of Mr. Clemens next day. I arose rather early next morning, and went in search. I expected to find him and his friends at some of the prominent hotels; but they were not there to be found, but had left the St. Nicholas some three days before, and where gone nobody knew. But the coachman would know where he took them. After waiting hours to find the coachman, I at last learned that they had all gone to a house in Madison Square, to which I proceeded, and found it the private residence of one of our prominent citizens. The parties, therefore, were evidently of the _elite_, and were to be approached delicately. Perhaps they hadn't told their friends of their loss, and from pride might not want it known. How should I proceed? Well, I rung the bell, and inquired of the servant if a Mr. Clemens was stopping there; and learned that he was, but that he and his wife had gone out, and would not be back till evening. "Was a Mr. Hale there?" "Yes; but he, too, and his wife have gone with Mr. and Mrs. Clemens." I didn't want the ring about me. I had pressing work to do that day and that evening; in fact, I hardly knew whether I should have time to call that evening or not. So I asked the servant if he could provide me envelope and paper, for I would leave a note for my friends. I was ushered into the library, and given the due materials; and addressing a note to Mr. Hale, which ran much as follows:--

"SIR: I have not the pleasure of your personal acquaintance, but the fact that I am the _true_ friend of your cousin, Mr. Robert McDonald, of New Orleans, will be all the assurance, I presume, that you will want of my being entitled to an audience with you. I have called to see you upon interesting and important business, and finding that you are not to return till evening, I beg to ask you to expect me at half past eight o'clock. Do not, if you please, by any means fail to be at home. I would also be pleased to meet Mr. Clemens; and I trust you will not consider me impertinent (and you will not when you come to learn my errand), if I ask also to meet Mrs. Hale and Mrs. Clemens at the same time.

"I would prefer to meet none of the family residing here, but yourselves alone.

"Yours, very respectfully,

"---- ----."

I hurried through my business for the remainder of the day, and a little before half past eight was duly at the house on Madison Square.

Being admitted, I called for Mr. Hale. He came to see me in the hall; looked at me mysteriously; was very civil and polite, but coldly so. I said, "I left a note here to-day for you."

"Yes, sir, I received a curious note, and don't know what to make of it. Please explain your business. We are strangers, and you will excuse me that I am always cautious with strangers, whoever they may be."

He had evidently taken the lesson of the night before to heart.

"But," asked I, "are Mr. and Mrs. Clemens ready to receive me, as I requested in my note?"

"Yes, and Mrs. Hale too."

"Can I see them all immediately, for I've but little time to spare?"

"Yes, sir," said he, quite rigidly; "follow me, sir."

I followed him to a small side parlor, where sat Mr. Clemens and the two ladies.

"This is the gentleman who left the note here to-day, and says he knows Bob McDonald," said Mr. Hale, as he bowed me to a chair, and cast a furtive glance at his friends as he spoke McDonald's name.

"Pardon me, sir," I broke in. "I did not say that I _knew_ Mr. McDonald, but that I was a 'true friend' of him, as you'll observe on looking at the note, if you have it, and as I guess I shall prove."

"O, then you don't know my cousin, Mr. McDonald?" asked Mrs. Hale. "I am glad you do not, sir, for I was beginning to fear you if you did. We've seen one of cousin's friends here of late to our regret."

"Well, ladies and gentlemen," said I, "I'll make my story short. You have, indeed, had occasion to regret meeting one of Mr. McDonald's pretended friends. Perhaps he does know him too, personally. But I do not; and I am a 'true friend' to Mr. McDonald, in that I would serve his friends as he would desire to have me, if he knew your late loss."

There were glances from the eyes of each into those of the others--a momentary silence and wonder-looking--when Mrs. Clemens tremulously exclaimed, "Why, sir, do you know all about it? Have you found the ring?"

"Foolish woman!" said Mr. Clemens. "How do you suppose anybody could find what wasn't lost--only stolen?"

"But I have something here for you, sir," said I, as I took the ring from my pocket, and held it up in the light.

"The same!" "That's it!" "Where did you get it?" "Did he lose it, and you find it?" "How glad I am!" etc., burst from their excited lips.

"Be calm, and I'll tell you all about it," said I; and taking their seats, for all had risen to their feet, they listened attentively to my story. I told them my business; how I came to notice them; all that I did--all except what transpired in Pine Street, making a short tale of that.

I had handed the ring, as I commenced my story, to Mr. Clemens, who placed it upon a book lying on the table, where it lay throughout our discourse, which was carried on for nearly an hour. Near the conclusion, Mr. Clemens said, "But after all this I do not feel that the ring is yet justly mine. You have earned a part of it, at least, and I wish you to tell me how much I shall pay you for your trouble. I should have lost the ring wholly but for you, and I am willing to pay you half its value, seven hundred and fifty dollars."

"O, no," said I, "I could not for a moment consent to take so much. In fact, I would have no right to."

"Well, name the price."

"If you give me fifty dollars I shall be satisfied."

"No such paltry sum, sir," said the generous Southerner. "You shall take double, yes, four times that, at least."

"Yes," said Mr. Hale, "and I'll gladly pay half of it, or the whole of it, or double it, and make it four hundred."

But I insisted upon only one hundred; and paying me that, Mr. Clemens restored the ring to his finger, saying, "The next time I allow a stranger, no matter whose friend he is, to trifle with my property, I shall _know_ it, I reckon. It's been a good lesson, cheaply bought, for me."

Business over, these cheerful people insisted upon entertaining me till a late hour, and I recited to them some quaint instances in the detective's life; but they could not but think that their adventure in New York had been the most remarkable of all.

I dare say that the lesson they learned that night will serve them through life; and although their loss was so stupidly occasioned that I presume they keep it secret as to themselves, I've no doubt they sometimes tell it, in the third person, as a warning to their friends who may be "going abroad, travelling."

It is a trite saying, that "'tis not all gold that glitters." Everybody has heard it, and repeated it, but few only profit by it.

THE MYSTERY AT NO. 89 ---- STREET, NEW YORK.

"KLEPTOMANIA"--THE TENDENCY TO SUPERSTITION--AN OLD KNICKERBOCKER FAMILY--A VERY "PROPER" OLD GENTLEMAN, A MR. GARRETSON--HE CALLS ON ME AT MY OFFICE, AND FINDS A CURIOUS-LOOKING ROOM--HIS STORY OF WONDERS--"EVERYTHING" STOLEN--TALK ABOUT DISEMBODIED SPIRITS--THE MYSTERY DEEPENS--PROBABLE CONJECTURE BAFFLED--VISIT TO MR. GARRETSON'S HOUSE--MRS. GARRETSON, A BEAUTIFUL AND CULTIVATED OLD LADY--WE SEARCH THE HOUSE--AN ATTIC FULL OF OLD SOUVENIRS--WE LINGER AMONG THEM--MR. GARRETSON'S DAUGHTER IS CONVINCED THAT DISEMBODIED SPIRITS ARE THEIR TORMENTORS--SHE PUTS AN UNANSWERABLE QUESTION--A DANGEROUS DOG AND THE SPIRITS--TEDIOUS AND UNAVAILING WATCHING FOR SEVERAL DAYS AND NIGHTS--THE "SPIRITS" AGAIN AT WORK--RE-CALLED--THE MYSTERY GROWS MORE WONDERFUL--THE "SPIRIT" DISCOVERED AND THE MYSTERY UNRAVELLED--THE FAMILY SENT AWAY--THE ATTIC RE-VISITED WITH MR. G. AND ITS TREASURES REVEALED--A RE-DISCOVERY OF THE "SPIRITS"--THE FAMILY REVIEW THEIR LONG-LOST TREASURES FOUND--REFLECTIONS ON THE CAUSES OF THE MYSTERY--A PROBLEM FOR THE DOCTORS.

"Kleptomania," the delicate term of modern coinage from the old Greek, which is used to signify a passion for thieving under peculiar circumstances, and is mostly used when the thief is a person of some importance and of moneyed means, so that the lust for gain is not supposed to be his prompter to the "offence against the statute in such cases made and provided," indicates a moral "dereliction" which not only attacks the wakeful subject, but sometimes infuses itself into the dreams of sleepers. Many women in a state of pregnancy are said to be liable to this disease, so to term it, who, in any other state, would be horrified at the bare mention of the crime of theft. They exhibit great adroitness in their man[oe]uvres when under the influence of the disease, and possess a boldness, too, of which, in their strictly "right minds," they would be utterly incapable. Such establishments as Stewart's great retail dry goods store expend large sums of money yearly in the employment of detectives to watch the customers, to see that they do not slyly purloin such goods as they may easily secrete in carpet-bags, in their pockets, under shawls, or under their dresses, and so on. Not a small number of these would-be thieves are kleptomaniacs, and mostly women suffering under diseases peculiar to the sex, or women in a state of pregnancy, whose blood is more or less driven in unusual quantities into the head, and stirs there passions and desires which they never so feel at other times. The philosophy of this thing would be a pleasant matter of study, and falls legitimately enough into the line of a detective's life to investigate; but here is not the place for its discussion at any great length.

I may run some risk in the narration of this tale, of trespassing upon the feelings of some persons who might prefer that I say nothing about it; for the facts were known to a large circle of highly-respectable people, mostly relatives of the "chief person of the drama," who would, perhaps, prefer that the matter should rest in peace, and go out in oblivion by and by. But I will endeavor to be delicate and courteous enough, in the avoidance of names, and in my general descriptions, to offend no one of those relatives who may read this.

There are a great many people who have a natural tendency to superstitions of all kinds. They have excellent common sense, for example, in everything except in matters of a religious nature. A family of such people may be divided into religious partisans of the bitterest stamp; the one may be a Baptist, for instance, and believe that all the rest, who disagree with him, must be lost. Another member may be a modern "Adventist," deny the doctrine of the essential immortality of the soul, and think his brother, who does believe in it, guilty of a proud and sinful assumption and godless vanity in so doing. Another may become an English churchman, and gravitate from that character into the Roman Catholic church, and feel that all the rest,--the Baptist, the Adventist, etc.,--must "perish eternally," unless they come into the fold of the Roman see. And still another may be a modern Spiritualist, and believe in the return of "departed souls" to earth, to commune directly, or through "mediums," with poor mortals here, etc. It seems to depend very much upon how the superstitious element in each member of such families is first or finally addressed, as to what each may become.

The reader will please conceive of an old, respectable family of Knickerbockers, into whose veins was infused a little Yankee blood, imported from near Boston, Mass., a family whose sires held in the past high rank and official position in the state and nation--a family not a little proud of its far-off Dutch and English stock--reared in wealth and luxury, well bred, of course, at home, and well educated, both the males and the females; with a large amount of landed estate in various parts of the country, and blessed with a plenty of houses and building lots in the cities of New York and Brooklyn; and, in fact, I have been told that their property could be pointed out all along the road, from Jersey City to Morristown, New Jersey. In fact it was by the possession of city lots, and the constant increase of value thereof, that the family acquired the larger portion of their estate. Add to this that the relatives of the family are mostly rich, and that such of them as are not rich, belong to that highly respectable, humdrum sort of people, who are here and there found in the midst of the stir and bustle of New York, who persist in representing old notions, old modes of doing business, and whose chief pride exercises and delights itself in talking over what their fathers did, who their grandfathers were, etc., or in preserving, perhaps, some legend, that when Washington had his residence near Bowling Green, their grand-uncle, or some other relative, was a welcome visitor there. It is necessary to bring to the mind's eye this class of people in order to comprehend the commotion which bestirred them at the time when I was called to "work up a case" in their midst.

One day, in the last "decade," I was waited on by a very proper old gentlemen, neatly dressed, with long white locks smoothly combed, hanging over his shoulders. The old gentleman possessed one of those passionless faces, so difficult to read, unless you can get a chance to peer down the eyes. He wore his gloves just one size too large; a little too independent to conform to the fashion of tight gloves, and a little too aristocratic to go without any,--(although I think a poor-fitting glove no ornament, to say the least),--and walked with the short, dainty, quick step of the men of note of the last century; he was tall, that is, about five feet and ten inches in height, rather slim, though he evidently had been a man of quite robust form.

But some name I must have--and what better can I substitute for the real one than Garretson? I might have chosen Paulding, or Van Wyck; but I may wish to use them yet in this. Well, such a looking man was Mr. Garretson, as he came one day into my office, bearing me a note of introduction from an old skipper who had his office in Pearl Street then, near Wall Street. The note, it appeared, was written at Mr. Garretson's, on peculiar family note paper, and bore the Garretson coat of arms, and would, I presume, have been sealed with the Garretson "stamp," and a pile of sealing-wax as large as one of the lead drops on "bulls," which the Pope attaches to deeds of excommunication, or of convocation of councils, if it had not been a note of introduction, and therefore not proper to be sealed; for the Garretsons were never known to do anything which was not proper, not suitable to their rank, and so forth, to do. The old gentleman stared a little as he entered my office, evidently expecting to find its appointments a little more to his taste, instead of finding "everything" in the office, and nothing in order; and asking if such were my name, and being answered in the affirmative, he daintily handed me the note.

"Be seated, sir," said I, as I took it; and pointed him to a seat near the window, which looked out on the public street, and the only empty seat in my office save mine, the rest being filled with books, papers, coats, hats, shackling irons, some old disguises, masks, etc., which I had that day pulled out of a trunk to give them an airing, and had scattered about. As I read the note, I looked at the old gentleman, and found him looking out of the window, as if he were uneasy, and was questioning in his mind what manner of man was he whom he had come to visit and consult,--for so intimated the letter of my old friend, the skipper.

I finished the perusal of the note in a minute or so, and stepping up to the old man, offered him my hand, with the usual salutations, and drawing my chair near him, sat down.

"Well, Mr. Garretson, our friend has intimated your business with me. I am at your service."

There was quite a long pause, when the old man brought his cane down on the floor between his legs, rested his hands upon the head of it, bent over it a little, and began:--

"Really, Mr. ----, I was thinking why, on the whole, I had come here; for the more I think, the less do I believe that you can give us any assistance. We've tried everything ourselves."

"Yes, sir, perhaps I cannot assist you; but if you will tell me your story, I shall probably be able to tell you whether I can or not immediately."

"That's the trouble, sir; the question of probabilities in the matter," said he; "for my story is a peculiar one, and involves the disclosure of matters which I should not like to tell you, unless you can conscientiously say that you think you can solve one of the greatest mysteries in the world,"--and here he paused.

"Why, sir," said I, "everything is a mystery to those who do not understand it. I cannot assure you that I can be of any service to you; but it is my business to unravel these matters which are mysteries to most people, and however complicated your case may be, I dare say I can cite many instances of as difficult ones, which have been worked out."

"I presume so," said he. "You are right. 'What man has done man may do,' you know; but we've tried everything which seems possible to be done, to solve the trouble."

"Doubtless all you have thought of as being practicable has been tried, sir; but there is some solution of your trouble possible, sir, of course."

"Yes, yes; that's true--unless there is some superior power at work in the matter. Some of my family and friends think there is."

"O, ho! Then to find out _that_ for a certainty would be a solution worth having; but you can only discover that by first proving that your affair is not operated by any ordinary power. Do you mean that it's thought to be the work of disembodied spirits?"

"Yes, and I confess I am half-inclined to think so myself; and I almost feel sorry that I have come to you so soon," said he, in a voice and manner which revealed to me his superstitious proclivities quite pointedly.