Mrs. Winslow's Signal answered.—She endeavors to win Bristol, and shows that they are "Affinities."—Detective Fox mystified.—An Evening with the One fair Woman.—Closer Intimacies.—A Journey proposed.—Detective Bristol as a Lover.
Mrs. Winslow's Signal answered.—She endeavors to win Bristol, and shows that they are "Affinities."—Detective Fox mystified.—An Evening with the One fair Woman.—Closer Intimacies.—A Journey proposed.—Detective Bristol as a Lover.
BACK in the streets of Rochester, Bristol followed Mrs. Winslow with much wonderment and some anxiety as to the result, not sure as to whether any of the three lovely women had noticed his leaving at the call of their hated rival, and cogitating what the woman might want with him.
They soon arrived at the Garden, the woman frequently looking back to assure herself that the retired banker was following her, and finally passed into the Fields and took a booth, where she ordered a bottle of wine, which gave her right to its occupancy for an indefinite period; and as soon as Bristol sauntered in, she signalled him to join her, which he did with great apparent hesitation and diffidence, and the general appearance of a man guilty of almost his first wrong intent, but yet with strong resolution to not let it get the better of him.
She did not remove the delicate lace veil from her face, and it blended the pretty flush which the exercise had heightened with her naturally clear complexion in a mostartistic way, and toned the light in her great gray eyes into a languid lustre, very thrilling to behold when one knows there is a clean life behind such beauty, but as dangerous when transformed into a winning mask covering the perdition in the heart of a wicked woman, as the dazzling power of the Prophet of Khorassan.
Bristol was a very courtly sort of fellow, and received a glass of wine from the neat hand with considerable grace, though inwardly wondering what it all meant. Their wine-glasses touched, and the cheap nectar was drunk in silence, Mrs. Winslow only indulging in those little motions and changes of features that some women believe to be attractive and fascinating, and which really are so to many susceptible people; and though Bristol might ordinarily have succumbed to the charms of the accomplished woman before him—and had he been the retired banker she supposed him to be would probably have done so—as the sedate, elderly, and capable detective, he only pretended to be smitten, and coyishly acknowledged her loving glances with more than ordinary ardor.
Finally, the fair woman, after modestly biting her lips for a time, began tapping the table with the handle of her fan, and looking Bristol full in the face, suddenly said:
"Mr. Bristol, aren't you a little curious why I wanted to see you?"
"Any man who is a man," replied Bristol earnestly, "could not but have a pardonable curiosity when so fair a woman as Mrs. Winslow claims his attention!"
"There, there," said she laughing, and extending herhands across the table as if in a burst of confidence, "let us wave formalities; let us be friends."
Bristol took her proffered hands rather stiffly, but held them as long as was necessary, as they were pretty hands, warm hands, and hands that could grasp another's with a good show of honesty, too.
"There is no reason why we shouldn't," he said gallantly, as she poured out another glass of wine.
"Only one," answered Mrs. Winslow archly. "The three Graces don't like me, and they are bound we sha'n't meet. Now," she continued, again tapping the table nervously with her fan, and then raising her fine eyebrows and looking at Bristol half anxiously, half tenderly, and altogether meltingly, "Ifeel as though we had been acquainted for years. Don't think me bold, Mr. Bristol, but I have had you in my thoughts much—possiblytoomuch," she added with the faintest trace of a blush; "but if I could feel that this—I was going to say attachment, though that would be quite improper, and I will say—unexplainable regard I have formed for you was in the least measure reciprocated——"
Bristol interrupted her with: "I think I can assure you that it is, at least, in a proper measure."
"Then," she continued, apparently radiant with happiness, "as I was about to say, I am sure it could be arranged so that we could be more in each other's society. You know who I am?" she abruptly and almost suspiciously asked.
Bristol was almost put off his guard by the suddenchange of the subject, but parried the question with: "Certainly not; at least no more than through what I have been told at the restaurant."
Tears started in her well-trained eyes, but she impetuously brushed them away and followed the pretty piece of acting with: "Oh, Mr. Bristol! I fear we may never be to each other what we might have been if these three old hags—I mean old maids—had not poisoned your mind regarding me. Let me tell you," and she took hold of his collar and drew the reluctant detective towards her, "they are trying to get your money—your vast wealth. Let a comparatively unknown friend whisper in your ear, 'Beware!'"
Bristol started, adjusted his glasses, grasped Mrs. Winslow's hand, and, as if very much frightened and extremely grateful, said heartily and with great fervor, "My dear madam, for this kindness I am yours to command!"
The woman evidently felt assured from that moment that she had made a conquest; but her varied experience and professional tact, as well as her native shrewdness, prevented her from expressing too great gayety over it, and she proceeded to inform Bristol how keen and shrewd the old ladies under Washington Hall were; how in confidence they had told her that they would compel him to marry one of them, and were going to draw cuts to determine which should carry off the prize; and when that was settled, if he did not marry the fortunate person willingly, their combined evidence would bring him down, or despoil him of a great portion of his wealth, which,she had no doubt, he had acquired by long years of honest toil.
Bristol expressed himself aghast at the depravity of women, and told Mrs. Winslow that it seemed to him that the nearer the grave they got the more terrible their greed and hideousness became.
Mrs. Winslow murmured thatshewas not so very,veryold.
"Quite the contrary," said Bristol, gallantly, "and even when you become so, I am sure—very sure, that you will prove a marked exception."
An expression of pleasure flitted into her face, succeeded by one of evident pain—pleasure, probably, that she had made another dupe as she supposed; pain, that in one swift moment there had flashed into her mind some terrible picture of her cursed, lonely, homeless old age, when the whole world should scoff at her and thrust her from it, like the vile thing that she was and the hideous thing that she would surely become; both followed by the set features, where the cruel light came into her eyes and the swift shuttles of crimson and ashy paleness shot over her curled lips—the outward semblance of the inward tigress, that, though diverted for an instant by some little sunlight-flash of either tenderness or regret, never could be won from its irrevocably awful nature!
But it was all gone as soon as it had come, and she sat there, to all appearances a handsome woman, as modestly and carefully as possible encroaching upon the grounds of a first after-marriage flirtation, and in a fewmoments pleasantly said: "I have become so interested in you, Mr. Bristol, that I have found myself asking the question: Why is it that this gentleman is continually in my mind? until, do you know, I have such a curiosity about you that I shall be perfectly delighted to get better acquainted with you."
Bristol gracefully acknowledged the compliment by stating to her that he himself, since he had seen her, had had a strange feeling that he should know more about her, and the presentiment was still so strong upon him that he was now quite sure that heshould.
"Ever since I saw you I have felt that we should become intimate," continued Mrs. Winslow radiantly.
"And I may myself confess that ever since I saw you, Mrs. Winslow, I reallyknewthat I should be obliged to search you out and remain near you."
Mrs. Winslow blushed and coyishly asked: "Mr. Bristol, do you believe in affinities?"
"Do you believe in affinities, Mr. Bristol?"—
"Most assuredly."
"So do I, and as we have sat here together, it has seemed to me that the good spirits were hovering over and around us, and had been, and were even now, whispering to us the sacredness of the affinity which surely must exist between us."
Mrs. Winslow said this in a kind of rhapsody of emotion, which betokened both an air of sincerity derived from frequent repetition and long practice, and a sort of superstitious belief in what she herself said; and then poured out another glass of wine for each, while Bristol remarked ashe drank, that of late years these spirits had been a great source of comfort to him, and that their free circulation was a good thing for society.
An hour or two was pleasantly beguiled in this manner, but Bristol hardly knew what course to pursue, and began to feel that in the absence of instructions he might become altogether too familiar with the charming woman who was making such an effort to please him. But he dare not cause her to become angry at him, for that would destroy his usefulness, and she seemed bound that he should admire her; so, as he had been directed by me to continue therôleof the "retired banker," he concluded it would be better to humor Mrs. Winslow in the belief that he was smitten by her, as she showed great anxiety that it should be so. Accordingly, when she proposed that he should call at her apartments that evening, he acceded to the request with such a show of pleasure that Mrs. Winslow could not restrain her gratification, but rose and terminated the interview by slapping Bristol heartily on the shoulder and calling him a "dear old trump, anyhow!" And Fox, who was reading the morning paper over a glass of beer at a little table not more than ten feet distant, looked in blank astonishment at Bristol, as if fearing that the woman had really bewitched him; while little Le Compte, who stood at the entrance beyond, looked the very picture of abject jealousy as he saw his darling lavishing endearments upon a man old enough to be her father.
Mrs. Winslow passed out of the Fields, and noticing Le Compte, who was retreating as rapidly as possible,beckoned to him, and when he had approached her near enough for her to speak to him, gave him a few quick, angry words that sent him at a rapid pace over the railroad bridge in the direction of his rooms; while she, after a parting smile at the beaming Bristol, who stood radiantly in the Fields' entrance, walked into St. Paul street, and from thence back and forth past the restaurant, where the three deserted old maids might witness her stride of triumph; while Bristol joined Fox at a retired spot under the shade of the trees overhanging the brink of the precipice rising from the gorge of the Genesee River, and explained the status of affairs which had all unconsciously to himself drawn him from his quiet work into an awful whirlpool of love and all that the term implied. Fox felt much relieved at this information, and at once proceeded home, while Bristol, with a guilty look in his face, returned to the little restaurant, where he found a dispatch from me stating that Mrs. Winslow intended going to Canada two days later, as I had been very positively informed by Le Compte, and directing him to in some manner keep her company and never let her make a move or meet a person without his knowledge.
Bristol hardly saw how he was to do this, but concluded that it might be best to wait until after his interview with his charmer in the evening, so that he could also forward the result of that with his regular report; and after expressing unbounded regret at being obliged to part from the three graces and a little card-party they had arranged, he proceeded to Mrs. Winslow's apartments,which had seemingly been specially arranged for his reception.
The mistress of the place was most elegantly attired, and greeted the "retired banker" with such grace and marked esteem, that Fox, at his lonely window opposite, almost felt jealous of the attention bestowed upon his comrade by their mutual quarry.
If ever a woman endeavored to make herself irresistibly winning, it was Mrs. Winslow on that night. She threw off all reserve at once, and was all smiles, pleasant words, and pretty ways. The rooms were most beautifully arranged, and where splendid flowers failed to furnish aroma, the delicate odors of art took their place. A very shrewd woman was Mrs. Winslow—a woman who was supreme in the art of providingbijouterieto appeal to the sensuous in men's natures. In her conversation, which apparently was lady-like enough when guarded, there was always more suggested than said. The tone, the smile, the eye, the gesture, the touch—every movement, glance, or sound, betokened an unexpressedsomethingready at any moment to be brought forward to crush down a weakening resolution, and sweep from existence so much of good or purity as might come into her baleful presence. She had rich game in Bristol, she thought. Why could she not work this with the Lyon case, bring to a successful termination a half-dozen other cases she was working up, secure a big pile of spoil at one time, and then with her little Le Compte glide away toLa Belle France, where with his wit and her winning waysand wisdom, she might yet amass vast wealth in levying upon the personal and family pride of the thousands of rich numskulls who annually throng the gay capital.
And so to any man but a duty-doing detective that evening would have been a thrilling one. As it was, it was a hard one for Bristol, who knew that Fox's lynx eyes were upon him from across the street, who had to invent legend after legend regarding his life, his present and his imaginary future, and who was obliged under any circumstances not only to please the woman, but to preserve himself blameless—two things to ordinary men quite difficult to manage.
During the hour that Bristol remained with her she intimated to him the propriety of his securing another boarding-place, so that they might enjoy each other's society without the annoyance to which the old maids would subject them both should he remain there. He had wanted to make a change, Bristol said, but his long and varied experience had made him cautious, and he never gave up one good thing until he had secured a better. How would as pleasant a place as this do, Mrs. Winslow wanted to know? She had been thinking of renting the entire flat, she said, and then re-renting it to select parties, like Mr. Bristol, who were willing to pay a good price for a really luxurious place in which to live.
Bristol was apparently flattered by her regard for him, which had, of course, alone suggested the matter to her mind; but, being an elderly gentleman of conservative habits, he required time to think the matter over. In anyevent, it couldn't but be a pleasant theme for contemplation.
In fact, they got along famously together; so much so, indeed, that before Bristol had taken his departure, Mrs. Winslow had pressed him to accompany her on a trip of both business and pleasure to Toronto, and had so urgently presented the request that he had half consented to go, and was quite sure that he would be able to do so, unless some unexpected business transaction should detain him. In any case, he would be able to inform her by the next afternoon, he said, as he gallantly bade her good-night, and observed Le Compte scowling upon him from the dark end of the hall beyond.
Bristol hastened to the post-office and added the events of the evening to his daily report, which reached me the next afternoon, when I telegraphed to him to proceed with Mrs. Winslow, as her friend; but while pleasing her by feigning extreme regard, to be discreet, and not put himself too much in her power, nor to allow her to advance any of her other schemes by a sort of exhibition of him as her champion and protector.
Mrs. Winslow was made very happy by Bristol's acceptance of her invitation, and, at her suggestion, they took the train for Port Charlotte as strangers—Mrs. Winslow informing Bristol that the "old scoundrel," meaning Lyon, was having her watched, she believed, but she would outwit him at every point; but on arriving at the Port the loving couple got together quite naturally, and soon after were on board a steamer bound for Port Hope.
It was one of those dreamy, hazy days of early September, when the disappearing shore seemed to gradually take upon itself a tint of blue as deep as that of the sky above and as pure as that of the waters below, which on this day was almost as smooth as a mirror, only broken by long, far-reaching swells that seemed to have neither beginning nor end, but which here and there swept away in endless ribbons of liquid light, while the trailing wake of the steamer seemed in the pleasant sun like some marvellous and limitless lace-work flung across the water in wanton richness and profusion.
It was a lovely day for love, and to an unprejudiced observer Bristol and Mrs. Winslow improved it. At Charlotte the woman spoke of the matter in such a way that Bristol understood that she would not object to make the trip as his wife, but he innocently failed to catch the meaning of her covert invitation, and was only the attentive admirer during the entire trip. But in the cabin, or seated coyishly together under a huge sunshade upon the forward deck, they were as fine a couple as one would care to see, while the woman seemed unusually affectionate and agreeable.
Arriving at Port Hope after a few hours, the couple took the night train for the West, and arrived at Toronto at midnight, being driven to the Queen's Hotel. They had become so confidential and intimate by this time that Mrs. Winslow again suggested the propriety of travelling under more intimate relations than they had done, but was again carefully diverted from her purpose by theassumed innocence of the venerable detective, who saw that her real purpose was to secure evidence of having travelled as his wife, in order to have a future power over him, as she certainly believed him to be a man of great wealth.
She had told him that she had business that would prevent her seeing him during the next day, at which he expressed extreme regret, and they retired to their separate apartments for the night.
Careful Work.—Bristol's Trick on the Bell-boy at Queen's Hotel, Toronto.—The old Merchant.—In the Toils.—A Face at the Transom.—A cowardly Puppet before a brazen Adventuress.—The Horrors of Blackmail.—"Furnished Rooms to Rent."
Careful Work.—Bristol's Trick on the Bell-boy at Queen's Hotel, Toronto.—The old Merchant.—In the Toils.—A Face at the Transom.—A cowardly Puppet before a brazen Adventuress.—The Horrors of Blackmail.—"Furnished Rooms to Rent."
AS Mrs. Winslow had said, she was not to be seen the next morning; and Bristol, after breakfasting early, came to the conclusion that he should also be busied for the day following my instructions to watch her every movement.
He ascertained the number of her room and leisurely strolled through the hall until he located it, when he at once took a position where he could observe any movement in or out of the door. At about ten o'clock he noticed a waiter enter her room as if by summons, in a few minutes pass out smiling, and shortly afterwards return with a very large glass filled with some sort of liquor. Soon after he brought her breakfast, and about a half-hour later he saw that the dishes were being removed from the room, and, lying on one edge of the tray, an ordinary envelope, from its puffed condition evidently containing a note. He felt sure that this would give him the overture to the day's performance; but how to secure it was another thing entirely. He could not take theletter from the tray, as it rested on the front edge which projected over the boy's shoulder, and was consequently immediately before his eyes. He probably would not be able to bribe him into letting him have it, for the letter might require an answer, and he would fear getting into trouble. Bristol was standing at the end of the hall, by the window overlooking the street, while the waiter was approaching the stairs which descended to the lower floors near him. The boy had reached the second step going down, and it was Bristol's last opportunity.
"Stop!" he said excitedly to the boy. "Here, give me that tray," and he pulled it from the boy's shoulder and rested it upon the stair-rail. "I'll take care of this. Run down to the street, now, quick, and get me a this morning's paper. There's a newsboy right in front of the house. Here's a half-dollar; keep the change!"
The boy seemed startled at the action, but Bristol had been so impetuous about it; that he had relinquished the tray and started down stairs, but, recovering himself, came back and reached his hand up as if to take the letter.
"Tut, tut," said Bristol angrily, picking up the letter and carelessly putting it in his pocket without looking at the address, "I'll take care of everything until you get back; get along with you now!"
Bristol was noted for his benign and fatherly appearance, and, after another good look at him, the waiter took a brisk trot down stairs, leaving the detective in possession of the letter. He hastily put the tray upon the floor, and whisking the letter from his pocket, saw that it wasaddressed with a pencil, to "J. Devereaux, No. —, Yonge St.," and marked "Personal." It was but the work of an instant to open it, and but of a moment to read it, as it was short and to the point, and ran as follows:
Queen's Hotel,Toronto, Sept. 6, 186-.Devereaux—I am hard up. I need one thousand dollars, though five hundred will do, but I must have that amount at once. You have intimated that you would not help me any further. I have merely to say to you that if you do not either call with, or send the money, during the day, I will cause you to reflect as to whether your business and social reputation are not worth to you and your estimable family immeasurably more than the trifle named. Exercise your own pleasure about the matter however.Mrs. W.
Queen's Hotel,Toronto, Sept. 6, 186-.
Devereaux—I am hard up. I need one thousand dollars, though five hundred will do, but I must have that amount at once. You have intimated that you would not help me any further. I have merely to say to you that if you do not either call with, or send the money, during the day, I will cause you to reflect as to whether your business and social reputation are not worth to you and your estimable family immeasurably more than the trifle named. Exercise your own pleasure about the matter however.
Mrs. W.
Bristol copied this upon the back of the addressed envelope in less than a minute, and in a minute more had the note enclosed in another envelope and addressed in a handwriting sufficiently similar to that of Mrs. Winslow's to answer every purpose, and had just got into a calm and bland position with the tray, when the boy came up the stairs, three steps at a time, gave the paper a toss into the hall, jerked the letter out of Bristol's hand, and after giving him a look that had considerable resentment in it, strode down the stairs with his tray on his shoulder and his letter in his pocket, in a very offended and dignified manner.
But as Bristol was on this kind of business at Toronto he thought he might as well ascertain where the little fellow went; and, taking a position a half-block distant from the hotel, was obliged to wait but a little time before the waiter came down and started off on a brisk walk down the street.
He waited until the boy had passed him, and then followed him in and out the streets until he saw him suddenly turn into a large wholesale house on Yonge street, when he rapidly lessened the distance between them, arriving in front of the place as he saw the boy hand the note to a thin old gentleman, who took him aside and nervously questioned him for a few minutes, after which he nodded to him as if assenting to something, or directing the boy to return an affirmative answer to whoever had sent the note, or whatever it contained.
The boy walked briskly back to the hotel, and Bristol only remained long enough to notice the old man—who was evidently the Devereaux of whom Le Compte had informed me, and whose name Bristol had so recently written—walk tremblingly towards the door as if overcome with some sudden faintness, and in a sort of vacant, listless way tear the note into little bits and fling them piecemeal upon the stones of the street, hurling the last bunch of pieces upon the pavement with a violent, agonized action, as if he would to God he could dispose of the dark and relentless shadow across his life as quickly and as effectually!
All Bristol now had to do was to ascertain when Devereauxcalled, and, if possible, to overhear what was said at the interview.
But this might not be so easy a matter to accomplish as securing the contents of the letter addressed to the latter. After studying the matter over for a little time, but without any definite decision what to do, he found himself strolling along the hall where Mrs. Winslow's room was located, and noticed several rooms standing open and being put to rights after the departure of guests. Among this number was one next to that occupied by Mrs. Winslow, and, taking the number, he immediately repaired to the office and had his baggage changed to that room, where, after dinner, with a few cigars and some fresh reading matter, he comfortably and leisurely waited for developments.
The day dragged along, and both Bristol and Mrs. Winslow became anxious. The latter paced back and forth in her room, and every few moments went to the door, and even passed out into the hall, going as far as the stairs and peering anxiously down, while the waiter at frequent intervals was summoned to provide her courage and patience of a liquid character. Finally, however, Bristol noticed that she had either concluded to take a short nap, or was determined to wait patiently, for quite a period of silence elapsed in her room, which he took advantage of to steal quietly out into the hall, leaving his door ajar so that he might re-enter it noiselessly as occasion required.
It was not long before the occasion presented itself, forBristol had got no more than to the end of the hall when he saw Devereaux ascending the stairs from below. He quietly stepped behind the curtains that trailed from the lambrequin over the window, and watched the old man as he came up the stairs.
He was a little, gray, withered old man. Almost all his strength was gone, and he certainly had but a few more years to use what little strength was left. His hair was almost white, and his face was quite as colorless, while the weak, rheumy eyes seemed almost ready to fall through the flesh which had withered away to the bones of his face. He was a living example of the blackmailer's victim as he labored along, now and then catching at the stair-rail for help, and looking behind and around him as if fearing some sudden discovery. Arriving upon the hall floor, he peered anxiously at the numbers upon the doors, and after settling in his mind what direction to take, went on tremblingly with bowed head towards the woman who was as remorseless as death itself.
He found the room after a little trouble, and tapped at it apprehensively. It was at once opened and immediately closed after, when Bristol sprang from his hiding-place and was in the adjoining room almost as soon as the next door had closed.
During the afternoon, when Mrs. Winslow had absented herself from her room, he had dragged the bureau against the door opening into her apartment, placed a quilt from his bed upon it in order that his jumping upon it mightoccasion no noise, and with his knife cut a diamond shaped piece out of the green paper covering the glass transom, darkening his own room so that his eyes could not by any possibility be seen through the aperture in the piece of paper, which had a dead black appearance from Mrs. Winslow's room; and by the time the poor old man had confronted the woman in a scared kind of a way, and had seated himself upon the sofa obedient to her imperious gesture, the "retired banker's" eyes and eye-glasses looked calmly down upon a scene the whole terrible import of which, could it have been presented to the world in all its terrible hideousness, and in some form become eternally typical of the curse it illustrated, would have stood for all time a savage Cerberus frightening men from this kind of infamy and self-destruction.
In all my startling experience with criminals and the sad incidents which have in the peculiar nature of my business forced themselves upon my observation, there has been no one thing so reprehensible as the trade of the blackmailer, and there is a no more terrible torture than that inflicted by that class of criminals; and I am satisfied that could heads of families realize their terrible danger when heedlessly forming some unholy alliance, which is sure to eventually whip and scourge them until life is a burden, there would be less of the moral laxity and lechery than now burdens the world from palace and pulpit to poverty-stricken hovel.
What more pitiable picture than that of a man just ready to pass from all that should be worth having andloving to the unknown country, with fear behind and awful uncertainty beyond—with the work of a whole life, which should now bring a reward of tenderness, gratitude, and reverential esteem, embittered and blasted by the relentless curse that ever trails after weakness and passion—fear, distrust, and apprehension between himself and family, and the Damoclean sword ever above him, ready to fall at the instant he endeavors to throw the horrible shadow from him to regain honesty and uprightness!
There the old man sat, a cowardly puppet before a brazen adventuress—sat there a weak, drivelling, idiotic wreck before one so vile that she was no longer capable of regret—sat there ruined in everything worth the preservation of, suffering what he had for years suffered—the regret, the remorse, the shame, and the abject fear that were worse than a thousand deaths; while the utterly heartless woman, with her hands folded across her waist in a masculine sort of a way, looked at him smilingly, seemingly enjoying his efforts to recover the breath lost in the, to him, severe labor of getting to her room; as it appeared to be the custom for him to see her there rather than in the parlor.
The interview was business-like, and, as it was not overwhelmed with sentiment, was not protracted.
Mrs. Winslow asked Devereaux if he had brought the money, and he stammered that he had. Well, she wanted it, and didn't want any nonsense with it, either, she said, with a vast amount of meaning thrown into the words; heknew whether heowedher that amount or not, and, if he did, she didn't propose having any bickering about it.
Then the old man slowly rose, and cursing her, himself, and all the world, flung her the money and said he would go, as he knew that was all she wanted.
She told him frankly that it was pretty nearly all she wanted, but added jocosely that he was still "a charmer," and that that fact, too, had its influence in periodically drawing her to him; and then bade him an affectionate good-by as he feebly glared at her, and passed, whining, cursing, and tottering away.
Mrs. Winslow was very happy and gay now, and during the evening and on their return to Rochester was all smiles and winsomeness. Her detective companion could scarcely enter into her unusual joyousness, but did the best he could, and that was well enough, as she was so pleased with the success of her Toronto trip that her mind was altogether employed with it until nearing home, when her eminent business ability again asserted itself, and she became more affectionate than ever to the retired banker, repeating the proposition concerning the rooms, which Bristol had of course reported, and which he would be prepared to act upon when he could secure his mail at Rochester.
He told her he had thought favorably of it, and after he had ascertained whether he should remain in the city a stated period or not, would inform her of his decision, which he presumed would be favorable and permit of their continued pleasant intimacy; while Mrs. Winslowconfided to him that she had thought seriously of the course for some time. She knew Lyon was having her watched, she said, and she had decided that it would be best to change her business to one which could not be so easily misinterpreted, or at least add to her present business something that in the eyes of those who scoffed at spiritualism would have a measure of respectability about it, and from which she could not only secure a livelihood, but such a pleasant companion as Mr. Bristol; and they parted upon the train before arriving at the depot with a thorough understanding about the future, and an appointment for another meeting at the first opportunity.
Unknown to Bristol I had sent another operative to keep him and Mrs. Winslow company, and on receiving the reports of each I decided to put my men in her rooms, where one of them could constantly observe her actions, and never under any circumstances give her an opportunity to make any new move without my knowledge. I therefore sent another man to Rochester for outside work, and directed Bristol to accept the woman's proposition and become her lodger, and, as soon after as possible without exciting her suspicions, appear to become acquainted with Fox, recommend him as a lodger, and secure his introduction to the place as M. D. Lyford, a book-keeper in some establishment of the city which they might settle upon, so that he might relieve Bristol, andvice versa, as occasion required.
So the furnished rooms sign went up over the clairvoyant sign, and Mrs. Winslow added to the charms of handsomemedium those of an attractive landlady, while the three old maids under Washington Hall lost their prize, who became a sort of an aged page to the castaway woman who had such luxurious rooms for rent in the autumn of 186-, on South St. Paul street, near Meech's Opera-house, in the beautiful city of Rochester.
Harcout again.—"Things going slow."—A Bit of personal History.—A new Tenant.—Detective Generalship.—Mrs. Winslow fears she is watched.—Mr. Pinkerton cogitates.
Harcout again.—"Things going slow."—A Bit of personal History.—A new Tenant.—Detective Generalship.—Mrs. Winslow fears she is watched.—Mr. Pinkerton cogitates.
IT is pleasant to realize that the world moves along just the same, whether the many mild lunatics it carries attempt to interfere with it or not. There are countless men, precisely like Harcout, incapable of holding in their little brains but one idea at a time, and that idea invariably pushes to the surface their own supreme egotism and self-consciousness, and just as invariably displays their utter ignorance of what they are continually interfering with; and it is both a grateful and charitable thought that such small minds, burdened with such vast assurance, are merely provided by Omniscience to make us patient, to warn us from allowing such knowledge as we may fortunately gain from developing into similar self-assertion, and to serve to illustrate true worth by contrast.
Here was this fellow sweeping into my office every day, demanding every detail of my operations on Mrs. Winslow, even intimating that I should consult with him as to every move to be made, and submit to his consideration even the character of the men employed, the color of their clothing and the quality, and every item or actconcerning or included in the work. He had, in some unexplainable way that is common to brazen assurance or unmitigated ignorance, fastened himself upon the weak old man as a sort of confidential agent, or what-not, worked upon his fears, his superstitions, and his foolish half-faith in a system of religion that has never yet made other than male and female prostitutes, adventurers, or lunatics, until the old man, standing alone and almost friendless, had learned to cling to him, and almost rely upon his consummate bravado to extricate him from the meshes of the web his own vileness and a vile woman had woven about him; so that in one sense he stood in the relation of principal to me, and I found it impossible to shake him off, or relieve myself to any great extent of his impudent presence and foolish suggestions.
I knew that he was utterly without principle, and was only making a show of this extraordinary energy in order to appear to more than earn whatever he got from Lyon, and continue in the latter's mind the feeling that he was utterly indispensable to him. I also knew him to be as mean an adventurer as Mrs. Winslow was an adventuress; that he was the villain who had first unloosed this vast flood of vileness and lechery upon society, and who, as the shameless Christian minister of Detroit, had put the fire-brand from hell in this woman's hand, to ever after continue her moral incendiarism wherever she might go, until thrust from life and infamous memory, and it annoyed me that this sort of a man should dictate to me.
I could have disposed of him at one stroke, and I amsatisfied that had I on only one occasion addressed him as the Rev. Mr. Bland, and casually inquired concerning his old Detroit friends, including Mother Blake, he would have slunk away without a word or a protest of any kind whatever; and had I gone farther, and showed him what he himself did not know, that this woman, whom he was so anxious to have brought down with some startling development, was none other than the one whom he had led into a life of sin from the pleasant Nettleton farm-house by the winding river, and that he was now playing guardian to a man that would have probably been free from the curse that was hanging over him, had it not been for Harcout's earlier and more rascally villainy, he would have disappeared altogether, but I realized that this would not do. It would have had the effect of putting Lyon at the mercy of a horde of new ghouls, while the existing one frightened all others away and was in a measure a protection to Lyon, for he was now only bled by one, where he would otherwise have been bled by twenty.
Aside from this, it would have probably resulted in Mrs. Winslow's being put on her guard, giving her time, not only to cover her tracks in many criminal instances we had already discovered against her, but also cause her to prevent witnesses from giving depositions, or, where depositions had already been taken, give her an opportunity to secure affidavits from the parties who gave them that they were mistaken as to the identity of the person named in those instruments, and in other particulars greatly destroythe effect of the work already done and that which I had planned; and I was consequently obliged to bear the fellow's dictatorial manner and suggestions, as he insisted on doing the work this way or that way, and urged that I was not "pushing things" fast enough.
"Why, Mr. Pinkerton," said he one day, his eyebrows elevated and the corners of his mouth drawn down, his whole face expressive of lofty condescension and gentle, though firm reproof, "things are going rather slow—rather slow. Hem! When we brought this case to you, we depended upon expedition—depended on expedition, Mr. Pinkerton."
"And have you any cause to complain?" I asked pleasantly.
"Well, I don't know as we should exactly call it 'complain.' No, I don't know as we exactly complain; but, if we might be allowed the privilege—hem!—we would beg to suggest, without giving offence—beg to suggest, mind you, without giving offence," he repeated, in the most offensive way possible, "that, if I might be allowed the expression, things are not pushed quite enough!"
"On the contrary," I continued good-naturedly, "we have secured what any good lawyer would consider an overwhelming amount of evidence, and are letting the woman take her own course, in order to allow her to completely unwind herself."
"But you see, Pinkerton, we supposed when we brought the case to you that you would, so to speak, smash things—break her all up and scatter her, as it were—hem!—disperse her, you know."
He said this as though he had taken a contract with Lyon to compel me to avenge them both on the woman, and it heated my blood to be considered in the light of any person's hired assassin; but I controlled myself, and explained the matter to him.
"Harcout," said I, "do you know anything about my history?"
"Well, nothing save what I've seen in the newspapers. Merely by reputation," he added lightly.
"Well, sir, whatever that reputation may be, Harcout," I said, "this is the truth. I never, that I know of, did a dishonorable deed. I worked from a poor boy to whatever position or business standing I now have—worked hard for everything I got or gained, and I never yet found it necessary to do dirty work for any person."
"Quite noble of you—quite noble," said Harcout patronizingly.
"The detection of criminals," I continued, paying no attention to his moralizing, "shouldbe as honorable—and so far as I have been able to do, has been made as honorable—while it is certainly as necessary as that of any other calling. No element of revenge can enter into my work. You came to me with a case which I at first objected to take, on account of its nature. I would not have taken it for all the money Mr. Lyon possesses, had I not been assured that this Mrs. Winslow was a dangerous woman. Nor, knowing that she is one, as I now do,would I have any connection with the case if I found that Mr. Lyon insisted on my using the peculiar power which I always have at command for any other purpose than the, in this case, legitimate one of securing evidence against her which actually exists. I am satisfied that a no more relentless and terrible woman ever lived, but shall leave her punishment to her disappointment in not securing what her whole soul is bent on getting, and that is Lyon's money. I have nothing whatever to do with punishment, sir, and no person ever did or ever can use my force for that nefarious purpose!"
"Oh, exactly—exactly," replied the oily Harcout; "but, you see, we rather—hem!—expected something startling, you know. Now, for instance," here he raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips in a wise way; "supposing you had just ascertained all about her early history, you would probably have found that Mrs. Winslow had played these games all her life. Undoubtedly you could point to the very first man whom she blackmailed——"
"Undoubtedly," I interrupted, "I'm sure I could do it at this moment!"
Harcout looked at me quickly, but as I was gazing at the ceiling as if in deep thought, he went on quite enthusiastically:
"Exactly. They learn it early. They will swindle at sixteen, rob at eighteen; blackmail at twenty; and kill a man any time after that!"
"Why, Harcout areyoua woman-hater?" I laughingly asked, notwithstanding my annoyance.
"Oh, no," he suddenly replied; "but I had a friend who once suffered from very much the same sort of a woman as this Mrs. Winslow, and she was not eighteen years old either. But to resume: Get this point in her life, and the rest—hem!—the rest reads right on like the chapters of a book!"
"And then what?" I ventured to ask.
"Then what?" he asked indignantly; "go for her through the newspapers. Drive her out of the country. Make it impossible for her to ever return;" and then, as if reflecting, "ruin her altogether. Any reporter will listen to you if you have anybody to ruin! In fact, get up an excitement about it and show her up."
"And try your case in the newspapers instead of in the courts?" I added, "which would have the effect of leaving the matter at the end just where it was at the beginning, with nothing proven, and Mr. Lyon still at the mercy of any future surprise the woman might conceive a fancy of springing upon him."
But there was no means of changing this lofty gentleman's opinions, and these interviews were always necessarily closed by the threat on my part that I would have nothing further to do with the matter if I was not allowed to conduct my operations according to my own judgment in the light of my own large experience upon such matters, and Mr. Harcout would depart in a most dignified and frigid manner, as though it were a "positively last appearance," only to return the next day with more objections and a new batch of suggestions, which were given me for"what they were worth," as he would remark, and we would fight our battles all over again, with the stereotyped result.
I saw Mr. Lyon very seldom, and he always approached me in the timid, reluctant way in which he had come into my office when the case was first begun; but, contrary to what I had anticipated through Harcout's injunctions to "push things" and crush the woman out, he approved of my course throughout, and seemed wonderfully pleased that everything had been conducted so quietly and yet so effectively. Of course he shrank from the trial and the miserable sort of publicity all such trials compel; but he wasmorefearful of the woman's future unexpected and sudden sallies upon him, which both he and myself were satisfied would be made at her convenience or whim, and was only too glad to agree to any course which would compel silence and peace.
At Rochester everything was working smoothly. After Bristol had become located, his first work was to secure the admission to Mrs. Winslow's rooms of Fox, as Lyford, which was done by representing that, the same day he had himself gone there, he had suddenly come upon a sort of relative of his who was a book-keeper in a wholesale house on Mill street, and who was boarding at the Osborn House, and would be glad to make some arrangement whereby he might live comfortably, be near his business, and take his meals when and where he pleased. Thinking he would be more pleasantly situated, and, at the same time, be able to economize somewhat, Bristol saidhe had recommended Mrs. Winslow's rooms very highly and that Lyford had agreed to call and take a look at the place, which he did, making a good impression, and arranging to have his baggage sent the next day.
The rooms were situated so that the two detectives in a measure had their quarry surrounded, or, at least, completely flanked. The halls of the floor intersected each other at right angles at the top of the stairs, and Mrs. Winslow's reception-room was at the right, as the hall was entered from the stairway, while her sleeping-room could only be reached from this sitting-room, although being situated next the hall running parallel with the front of the building, while Bristol had shrewdly secured another sleeping-room fronting on St. Paul street, similar in size to Mrs. Winslow's, adjoining hers, and also, like hers, opening into the reception-room, which they had agreed to use in common, as it seemed that the fair landlady was all of a sudden, for some reason, becoming close and penurious. Fox's room was across the hall immediately opposite Mrs. Winslow's, as he had expressed a strong desire to be as near his cousin, Mr. Bristol, as possible, so that by chance and a little careful work the parties were located with as much appropriateness as I could possibly have wished for. The operatives each paid a month's rent in advance, taking receipts for the same, and immediately began paying particular attention to all parties who came in and out of the building, circulated freely among the Spiritualists of the city, and got on as good terms as possible with the charming landlady, who seemed at times to be a little suspiciousof her surroundings, as it introduced altogether too many strange faces to suit a person who had a no clearer conscience than she had.
From the gay, dashing woman she had been, she became unpleasantly suspicious. She explained this to Bristol and Fox as arising from unfavorable visions and revelations from the spirits through the different mediums she had employed to give her the truth about her case with Lyon. The rooms had filled up rapidly with people whom the operatives had taken pains to ascertain all about, and who, as a rule, were honest folks; but Mrs. Winslow could not get it out of her mind that some of them were spies from Lyon, and were watching her in everything that she did.
There had been nothing whatever done to alarm her on the part of my men; but the fact alone that here were a dozen people all about her, any one of whom might at any time spring some sudden harm upon her, began to affect her as the fear she had all her life inspired in others had affected them; and she began to form a habit of talking pleasantly on ordinary subjects, and then turning abruptly and almost fiercely upon Bristol and Fox, who were now the only persons left whom she would at all trust—even distrusting them—with a series of questions so vital, and given with such wonderful rapidity, that it required the best efforts of the operatives to parry her home-thrusts and quiet her regarding them.
It was a question in my mind whether she had laid by a large sum of money or not. Years before she had severalthousand dollars; up to the time she came to Rochester she had had the reputation of never paying a bill, and, however hedged in she might be by justice, jury, constables, or sheriff, she not only escaped incarceration, but beat them all without paying any manner of tribute. She had done a fair business in duping Spiritualists and other weak-minded people while in Rochester; she had evidently levied upon Devereaux often and largely, and to my certain knowledge had taken some thousands of dollars from Lyon, and I was at a loss to know why she was growing so grasping and exacting as the reports showed was true of her; for she soon complained of being poor, levied additional assessment for care of the rooms, insisted upon her tenants receiving sittings at a good round price from her, and in general dropped the veneer which had formerly made her extremely fascinating, and became, save in exceptional moments of good nature, a masculine, repulsive shrew, who, with a slight touch of hideousness, might have passed for a stage witch or a neighborhood plague.