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ALLAN PINKERTON'S

DETECTIVE STORIES.

***

VOL. V.

THE SPIRITUALISTS AND DETECTIVES.




ALLAN PINKERTON'S

GREAT DETECTIVE BOOKS.

***


   1.--MOLLIE MAGUIRES AND DETECTIVES.
   2.--STRIKERS, COMMUNISTS, AND DETECTIVES.
   3.--CRIMINAL REMINISCENCES AND DETECTIVES.
   4.--THE MODEL TOWN AND DETECTIVES.
   5.--SPIRITUALISTS AND DETECTIVES.
   6.--EXPRESSMAN AND DETECTIVES.
   7.--THE SOMNAMBULIST AND DETECTIVES.
   8.--CLAUDE MELNOTTE AS A DETECTIVE.
   9.--MISSISSIPPI OUTLAWS AND DETECTIVES.
  10.--GYPSIES AND DETECTIVES.
  11.--BUCHOLZ AND DETECTIVES.
  12.--THE RAILROAD FORGER AND DETECTIVES.
  13.--BANK ROBBERS AND DETECTIVES.
  14.--BURGLAR'S FATE AND DETECTIVES.
  15.--A DOUBLE LIFE AND DETECTIVES.

  ***

  These wonderful Detective Stories by Allan Pinkerton are
  having an unprecedented success. Their sale far
  exceeding one hundred thousand copies. "The
  interest which the reader feels from the outset
  is intense and resistless; he is swept along
  by the narrative, held by it, whether
  he will or no."

  ***

  All beautifully illustrated, and published uniform with this
  volume. Price $1.50 each. Sold by all booksellers, and
  sent _free_ by mail, on receipt of price, by

  G. W. CARLETON & CO., Publishers,
  New York.




  THE
  SPIRITUALISTS
  AND
  THE DETECTIVES.

  BY

  ALLAN PINKERTON,

  AUTHOR OF
  "THE EXPRESSMAN AND THE DETECTIVE," "CLAUDE MELNOTTE AS
  A DETECTIVE," "THE SOMNAMBULIST AND THE DETECTIVE,"
  "THE MODEL TOWN AND THE DETECTIVES," ETC.

  [Illustration]

  NEW YORK:
  _G. W. Dillingham, Publisher_,
  SUCCESSOR TO G. W. CARLETON & CO.
  LONDON: S. LOW, SON & CO.
  MDCCCLXXXIX.


  COPYRIGHTED, 1876, BY
  ALLAN PINKERTON

  TROW'S
  PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING CO.,
  PRINTERS AND STEREOTYPERS,
  _205-213 East 12th St._,
  NEW YORK.




CONTENTS.

***


CHAPTER I.

   "Kal'm'zoo!"-- The Home of the Nettletons.-- Lilly
      Nettleton.-- A wild Heart and a burning Brain.    13

CHAPTER II.

   The "Circuit-Rider."-- Mr. Pinkerton and these Gospel
      Knights-Errant in the early Days.-- The Rev. Mr. Bland
      appears.-- "And Satan came also!"-- A "charge" is
      established.-- A Compact "where the golden maple-leaves
      fall."-- Bland departs.-- "The scared form of a young
      Woman steals away from her Home!"                 19

CHAPTER III.

   Lilly in Detroit.-- First and last Remorse.-- The reverend
      Villain and his Victim enjoy the Hospitality of the
      Michigan Exchange Hotel.-- A Scene.-- "Bland, am I to go
      to your Mother's, as you promised?"-- The Clergyman(?)
      "crazed."-- Everything, save Respectability.-- A Woman's
      Will.-- And a Man's Cajolement.                   27

CHAPTER IV.

   Tells how the Rev. Mr. Bland preached a Funeral Sermon.--
      Shows a dainty Cottage, holding more than the Neighbors
      knew.-- Installs Lilly as a Clergyman's Mistress.--
      Reverts to a Desolate Home.-- Introduces Dick Hosford, a
      returned "Forty-Niner," who begins a despairing Search.--
      And shows that unholy, as well as true Love, does not
      always run smoothly.                              33

CHAPTER V.

   Reckless Fancies.-- The "Cursed Church Interests."-- Bland's
      "little Bird" becomes a busy Bird.-- Merges into a great
      Raven of the Night.-- Gathers together Valuables.-- And
      while a folded Handkerchief lies across the Clergyman's
      Face, steals away into the Storm and the Night.-- Gone!--
      "Are ye all dead in there?"-- Drifting together.-- "Don't
      give the Gal that Ticket!"-- A great-hearted Man.-- The
      Rev. Bland officiates at a Wedding.-- Competence and
      Contentment.                                      39

CHAPTER VI.

   Mr. Pinkerton is called upon.-- Mr. Harcout, a
      ministerial-looking Man, with an After-dinner Voice,
      appears.-- A Case with a Woman in it, as is usually
      the case.-- Mr. Pinkerton hesitates.-- An anxious
      Millionaire.                                      47

CHAPTER VII.

   In Council.-- Mr. Lyon the Millionaire, with Mr. Harcout the
      Adventurer and Adviser, appear together.-- How Mr. Lyon
      became Mrs. Winslow's Victim.-- "Our blessed Faith" and
      the Woman's strange Power.-- A Tender Subject.-- Deep
      Games.-- A One Hundred Thousand Dollar Suit for Breach
      of Promise of Marriage.-- A good deal of Money.-- All
      liable to err.-- A most magnificent Woman.-- The "Case"
      taken.                                            55

CHAPTER VIII.

   The Case begun.-- Mr. Pinkerton makes a preliminary
      Investigation at Rochester.-- Mrs. Winslow, Trance
      Medium.-- A Ride to Port Charlotte.-- Harcout as a
      Barnacle.-- Much married.-- Mr. Pinkerton visits the
      Mediums.-- Drops in at a Washington Hall Meeting.-- Sees
      the naughty Woman.-- And returns to New York convinced
      that the Spiritualistic Adventuress is a Woman of
      remarkable Ability.                               65

CHAPTER IX.

   "Our Case."-- Harcout's Egotism and Interference.-- The
      strange Chain of Evidence.-- A Trail of Spiritualism,
      Lust, and Licentiousness.-- Superintendent Bangs locates
      the Detectives.-- A pernicious System.-- Three Old Maids
      named Grim.-- Mr. Bangs baffled by Mr. Lyon, who won't be
      "worried."-- One Honest Spiritualistic Doctor.-- The Trail
      secured.-- A Tigress.-- Mr. Bangs "goes West."    75

CHAPTER X.

   Rochester.-- A Profitable Field for Mrs. Winslow.-- Her
      sumptuous Apartments.-- The Detectives at Work.-- Mrs.
      Winslow's Cautiousness.-- Child-Training.-- Mysterious
      Drives.-- A dapper little Blond Gentleman.-- Two Birds
      with one Stone.-- A French Divinity.-- Le Compte. 87

CHAPTER XI.

   The Half-way House.-- A jolly German Landlord.-- Detective
      Fox runs down Le Compte.-- A "Positive, Prophetic, Healing
      and Trance Medium."-- Harcout the Adviser reappears, and
      is anxious lest Mr. Lyon be drawn into some terrible
      Confession.-- Mr. Pinkerton decides to know more about Le
      Compte.-- And with the harassed Mr. Lyon interviews him.--
      Treachery and Blackmail.-- "A much untractable Man."--
      Light shines upon Mrs. Winslow.-- Another Man.-- Mr.
      Pinkerton mad.                                    98

CHAPTER XII.

   The Raven of the Detroit Cottage in another Character.-- Mrs.
      Winslow yearns for a retired Montreal Banker.-- Love's
      Rivalry.-- A mysterious Note.-- The Response.-- Another
      Trip to Port Charlotte by four Hearts that beat as one.--
      What Mr. Pinkerton, as one of the party, sees and hears.--
      "Jones of Rochester."-- Le Compte and Mrs. Winslow resolve
      to fly to Paris, "the magnificent, the beautiful, the
      sublime!"-- "My God, are they all that way?"     114

CHAPTER XIII.

   Mr. Pinkerton again interviews Le Compte.-- And very much
      desires to wring his Neck.-- A Bargain and Sale.-- Le
      Compte's Story-- "Little by Little, Patience by
      Patience."-- A Toronto Merchant in Mrs. Winslow's Toils.--
      Detective Bristol, "the retired Banker," in Clover.--
      Tabitha, Amanda, and Hannah individually and
      collectively woo him.-- Ancient Maidens full of Soul.--
      A Signal.                                        128

CHAPTER XIV.

   Mr. Bangs on the Trail in the West.-- Terre Haute and its
      Spiritualists.-- Mrs. Deck's Boarding-house.-- The
      Nettleton Family broken up.-- Back at the Michigan
      Exchange.-- Mother Blake's Recital.-- Through Chicago to
      Wisconsin.-- A disheartening Story.-- The practical result
      of Spiritualism.                                 141

CHAPTER XV.

   A Chicago Divorce "Shyster."-- Hosford found.-- His pathetic
      Narrative.-- More Facts.                         151

CHAPTER XVI.

   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.                              162

CHAPTER XVII.

   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."                                  175

CHAPTER XVIII.

   Harcout again.-- "Things going slow."-- A Bit of personal
      History.-- A new Tenant.-- Detective Generalship.--
      Mrs. Winslow fears she is watched.-- Mr. Pinkerton
      cogitates.                                       186

CHAPTER XIX.

   Mrs. Winslow becomes confidential.-- Some of her Exploits.--
      Her Plans.-- A Sample of Legal Pleading.-- A fishy
      Story.-- The Adventuress as a Somnambulist.-- Detective
      Bristol virtuously indignant.-- Failing to win the
      "Retired Banker," Mrs. Winslow assails Detective Fox with
      her Charms.                                      197

CHAPTER XX.

   A Female Spiritualist's Ideas of Political and Social
      Economy.-- The Weaknesses of Judges.-- Legal Acumen of the
      Adventuress.-- An unfriendly Move.-- Harcout attacked.--
      Lilly Nettleton and the Rev. Mr. Bland again together.-- A
      Whirlwind.                                       209

CHAPTER XXI.

   Mrs. Winslow, under the Influence of "Spirits" of an earthly
      Order, becomes romantic, religious, and poetical.-- A
      Trance.-- Detective Bristol also proves a Poet.-- A Drama
      to be written.                                   220

CHAPTER XXII.

   Mr. Pinkerton decides to favor Mrs. Winslow with a Series of
      Annoyances.-- The mysterious Package.-- The Detectives
      labor under well-merited Suspicion.-- "My God! what's
      that?"-- The deadly Phial.-- This Time a Mysterious Box.--
      Its suggestive Contents.-- "The Thing she was."-- Tabitha,
      Amanda, and Hannah assaulted.-- A Punch and Judy
      Show.                                            230

CHAPTER XXIII.

   Cast down.-- "Trifles."-- A charitable Offering.--
      Dreariness.-- Going Crazy.-- An interrupted Seance.-- A
      new Form of the Devil.-- The Red-herring Expedition and
      its Result.-- A mad Dutchman.-- Desolation.-- An order
      for a Coffin.-- The sympathizing Undertaker, Mr.
      Boxem.                                           244

CHAPTER XXIV.

   Breaking up.-- Doubts and Queries.-- Suspected
      Developments.-- The Detectives completely outwitted.-- On
      the Trail again.-- From Rochester to St. Louis.-- A
      prophetic Hotel Clerk.-- More Detectives and more Need for
      them.-- Lightning Changes.                       269

CHAPTER XXV.

   Still foiled.-- Mr. Pinkerton perplexed over the Character of
      the Adventuress.-- Her wonderful recuperative Powers.-- A
      lively Chase.-- Another unexpected Move.-- The Detectives
      beaten at every Point.-- From Town to Town.-- Mrs.
      Winslow's Shrewdness.-- Among the Spiritualists at Terre
      Haute.-- Plotting.-- The beautiful Belle Ruggles.-- A wild
      Night in a ramshackle old Boarding-House.-- Blood-curdling
      "Manifestations."-- Moaning and weeping for Day.--
      Outwitted again.-- Mr. Pinkerton makes a chance
      Discovery.-- Success.                            285

CHAPTER XXVI.

   Shows how Mrs. Winslow makes a new Move.-- Also introduces
      the famous Evalena Gray, Physical Spiritual Medium, at her
      sumptuous Apartments on West Twenty-first Street, New
      York.-- Reminds the Reader of the Aristocratic Classes
      deluded by Spiritualism.-- Describes a Seance and explains
      the "Rope-trick," and other Spiritualistic Sleight-of-hand
      Performances.                                    307

CHAPTER XXVII.

   After the Seance.-- Daddy, the "Accommodation Husband."-- The
      two fascinating Swindlers in Council.-- Miss Evalena's
      European Career.-- How the Millionaire Brewer was baited
      and played with.-- A Bit of Criminal History.-- A choice
      Pair.-- Mrs. Winslow's Aspirations and Resolves. 326

CHAPTER XXVIII.

   Mrs. Winslow demonstrates her Legal Ability.-- The "Breach of
      Promise Trial."-- A grand Rally of the Spiritualistic
      Friends of the Adventuress.-- The Jury disagree.-- Mrs.
      Winslow convicted at St. Louis of Common Barratry.-- An
      honest Judge's Rebuke.-- A new Trial.-- The Spiritualistic
      Swindler overthrown.-- Remorse and Wretchedness. 341




PREFACE.


I wish to anticipate any adverse criticism that may be made upon the
following pages, by being as frank with the public as I trust the
critics will be fair with me.

Therefore I must say at the beginning that I expect many well-meaning
people to differ with me as to the propriety of giving this book to the
public; but I am exceedingly hopeful that that difference will not
amount to a serious condemnation. Nor can I think it will when I
earnestly assert that I have caused its publication out of as honest a
motive as I ever possessed; and I am sure that whatever the American
people have come to think of me in other respects, they are pretty
certain of my honesty.

The incidents related are true, though, out of a proper regard for my
patrons and many who do not sustain that relation, but who unavoidably
become identified in numberless ways with my operations in ferreting out
crime and criminals, I have deemed it best to locate the story in a city
several hundred miles from the place where the occurrences really
transpired, and, for the same reason, have given the characters
fictitious names; but the incidents are exact parallels of the original
facts, and in many cases are literal transcripts of, while in every
instance they agree with, the records of the case as minutely reported
during its progress.

By way of further explanation, I desire to remind my readers how very
difficult it is for those not familiar with the detective business to
realize the masses of iniquity we are often obliged to unearth,
unpalatable as the work may be and is. But while, from the nature of my
business, my records are necessarily so exhaustive, and have been made
so thoroughly minute, as to contain simply everything, good or bad,
regarding an operation, and are, therefore, as records, reliable and
true--though they thus become repositories of much that is vile--I have
striven in every instance, while relating the truth and nothing but the
truth, to speak of unpleasant things in as delicate a manner as
possible, and in a way which, while plain enough to convey with proper
force and directness the moral lessons that these developments cannot
fail to impress upon the minds of all readers, might still leave no
unclean thought behind them; and the only sense in which a charge that
my "Detective Stories" were in any respect untrue might be sustained,
would be in the fact that I have in numberless instances, for the very
good reason mentioned, told immeasurably less, and never more, than the
whole truth.

I make no assumption of having given in this book an exhaustive _expose_
of modern spiritualism, and I wish it as well remembered that I have no
more prejudice against the good there is in that ism than I have
against the good there is in any other ism; but my experience with these
people, which has been large, has invariably been against their honesty
or social purity.

So far as there being anything about Spiritualism to compel awe or
attract any but weak-minded or "weak-moraled" people, the assumption is
simply absurd; for the few illustrations given in the following pages
will show how utterly preposterous the claim of supernatural power is,
as applied to the _cause_ of these "manifestations," which are not, in
themselves, first-class tricks, but which, when made mysterious and
enshrouded with the element of superstitious fear--which all of us in
some measure possess--lead crowds of inconsiderate people into unusual
eccentricities, if not eventually into insane asylums, as in some
painful instances of which the public are already well aware.

In my exceptionally strange avocation I have been enabled to view this
entire matter from the side which the public cannot reach--the side
where the fraud of it all is so apparent that it becomes disgustingly
monotonous and common; and as a matter of duty to those who are half
inclined to accept Spiritualism as a divine revelation and blessed
experience, I have given but a single case--a sample of hundreds of
others--which illustrates the despicable character of many, if not a
majority, of Spiritualism's public champions and private disciples; only
adding that in this instance the picture does not show a thousandth part
of the hideousness of the original.

The Judge Williams mentioned as having presided at Batavia, N. Y., is
no myth, but an eminent jurist at present sitting upon the bench of one
of the most important courts in the country. He has not only furnished a
copy of his scathing remarks to the Winslow-Lyon jury upon their
disagreement, as related, but will vouch for the correctness of much of
this narrative, as most of the facts mentioned came under his personal
observation.

I have given them to the public trusting they will fill some good place
in the world, and assist in removing from the minds of those who are
occupying the debatable ground regarding the question of the genuineness
of Spiritualism and Spiritualistic "manifestations" the superstitious
fear and the sensuous fascination which have heretofore bound and held
them.

                                             ALLAN PINKERTON.

CHICAGO, January, 1877.




THE SPIRITUALISTS

AND

THE DETECTIVES.

***




CHAPTER I.

   "Kal'm'zoo!"-- The Home of the Nettletons.-- Lilly
      Nettleton.-- A wild Heart and a burning Brain.


Most commercial and uncommercial travellers filling the swift shuttles
of transit between the East and the West will remember that while
passing through Michigan, over the Central road, the brakeman has
shrieked the legend "Kal'm'zoo!" at them as the train rushed into one of
the prettiest little cities in the country. There is nothing
particularly picturesque about Kalamazoo, unless the wondering face of
some harmless lunatic, on parole from the Asylum which stands so
gloomily among the hills beyond the town, the solemn visage of some
Baptist University student, who with his toast, tea and Thucydides, has
become grave and attenuated, or the plump form of some "seminary girl"
who _will_ look at the incoming trains, and flout her handkerchief too,
in spite of parents, principals, and all the proprieties, and the
ordinary ebb and flow of the life of a stirring provincial town, may be
so considered. Neither is there anything particularly interesting about
Kalamazoo, save its native, quiet beauty. It meets life easily, and,
like a happily-disposed tradesman, takes its full measure of traffic and
enjoyment with undisturbed tranquillity, cultivating neat yards and
streets, the social graces, and occasionally the arts, with a lazy sort
of satisfaction that is pleasant to look upon and contemplate.

Standing at any street-corner of the city, you will see wide avenues of
fine business houses or elegant residences, and, where the latter, a
wealth of neatly-trimmed shrubbery, and long lines of overarching maple
trees merging into pretty vistas which seem to invite you beyond to the
beautiful hills, uplands and valleys, with their murmuring streams,
sloping farms and well-kept homes, where both plenty and contentment
seem to be waiting to give you a right hearty welcome.

About twenty-five years ago, when the country was much newer, and the
sturdy farmers that have made this great West blossom so magically until
it has become the whole world's storehouse, were held closely to their
arduous work by the hard hand of necessity and toil, a few miles up the
river from the then little village of Kalamazoo might have been seen a
comfortable log farm-house which nestled within a pretty ravine sloping
down to the banks of the lazily-flowing stream. It was a plain, homely
sort of a place, but there was an air of thrift and cleanliness about
the locality that told of earnest toil and its sure reward.

The farm was of that character generally described as "openings;" here a
clump of oak, beech, and maple trees, there a rich stretch of
meadow-land; beyond, a series of hills extending to the uplands, the
bases of which were girted with groves, and whose summits were composed
of a warm, rich, stony loam, where the golden seas of ripening grain,
touched by passing zephyrs, waved and shimmered in the glowing summer
sun; while where the river wound along towards the villages below, there
was a dense growth of elm, maple, and beech trees, standing there dark
and sombre, save where the glintings of sunlight pierced their foliaged
armor, like grim sentinels of the centuries.

This was the home of Robert Nettleton, a plain and uneducated farmer,
who had several years before removed from the East with his family, and
with them was slowly accumulating a competence for his declining days.

Robert Nettleton's family consisted of himself, his wife, and their
three children. He was looked upon by his neighbors as somewhat erratic
and strange, being repelling in his manner, and at times sullen and
reticent. He went about his duties in a severe way, and at all times
compelled the strictest obedience from each member of his family. On the
contrary, his wife was a meek-eyed little woman, patient and
long-suffering, and was looked upon in the neighborhood as a nonentity
from her unresisting, broken-down demeanor, save in times of sickness
and trouble, when she was immediately in great demand, as she had little
to say, but much to do, and had an effective method of noiseless, tender
watching and nursing at command, which was at all times ungrudgingly
employed.

The children consisted of one boy and two girls, the eldest of whom, now
in her eighteenth year, little dreamed of the despicable commotion she
was to create in after-life, and was the reigning belle of the
community, though she always kept the country bumpkins at a respectful
distance and was feared by fully as many as she was admired, from her
impetuous, imperious ways, that brooked no opposition or hinderance. One
would have to travel a long distance to find a more attractive figure
and face than those possessed by this country girl. She was somewhat
above the medium height, a living model for a Venus, supple and lithe as
the willows that grew upon the banks of the winding stream, and so
physically powerful that she had already gained some notoriety among her
acquaintances through having soundly shaken the pedagogue of the
district school, and afterwards pitched him through the window into an
adjacent snow-drift, where he had remained buried to his middle, his
legs wildly waving signals of distress, until she had just as
impulsively released him.

Although somewhat strange and unusual, her features, while not
strikingly beautiful, were still singularly attractive. Her head, which
was large and seemingly well provided with faculties of quick
perception, was covered with a wondrous wealth of black hair, so heavy
and luxurious as to be almost unmanageable, and which, when not in
restraint, fell about her form, hiding it completely, nearly to her
feet. Her forehead was full and prominent, while her eyes, large and
rather deeply set, and fringed with heavy lashes, were of that peculiar
gray color which at times may be touched by all shades, while a trace of
blue always predominates. There was nothing worth remarking about other
portions of her face, save that, critically examined, too much of it
seemed to have got into her chin, and her upper lip had a strange habit
of hugging her brilliantly white teeth too closely, and then curling
upward before meeting the lower one, where sometimes crimson and ashy
paleness played like quick and cruel lightning, a key to the slumbering
devils within her. At these times, too, there was a certain light in her
eyes that an observing person would feel a peculiar dread of awakening,
though usually her face showed a complete repose, and it would have been
difficult to decide whether she was a very ordinary or a very
extraordinary character.

Still, with her magnificent figure and strangely attractive face, she
was a young woman to strongly draw just two classes of men towards
her--students of character and students of form. The first she
invariably disappointed and repelled, always awakening the indefinable
dread I have mentioned, while her presence among the latter class as
swiftly opened the floodgates of passion to swiftly sweep the better
nature and all good resolves before it. So, with her peculiarly
unfortunate construction, it is not strange that, on arriving at that
period of life when the almost omnipotent power of a self-willed woman
begins to develop and hint at the possibilities beyond the threshold of
the strange life her inexperienced feet had just reached, Lilly
Nettleton should have felt an oppressive sense of littleness in the
quiet community in which she lived, and experienced a burning desire to
cast these humble associations from her, to compel admiration and
conquer whoever and whatever she might meet in the wide, wide world
beyond.




CHAPTER II.

   The "Circuit-Rider."-- Mr. Pinkerton and these Gospel
      Knights-Errant in the early Days.-- The Rev. Mr. Bland
      appears.-- "And Satan came also!"-- A "charge" is
      established.-- A Compact "where the golden maple-leaves
      fall."-- Bland departs.-- "The scared form of a young
      Woman steals away from her Home!"


During the summer the presiding elder of the Kalamazoo district decided
to bid for the benighted souls that dwelt in Mr. Nettleton's
neighborhood, and made arrangements to "supply" the school-house at the
corners where Lilly had distinguished herself in giving the schoolmaster
a cold bath in the snow-bank, with circuit-riders, or with young
clergymen who had just graduated and were supposed to be in training for
more extended fields of labor.

At that time the system of salvation as carried on by the Methodist
Church--which must certainly be credited with a vast amount of push and
energy in furthering its peculiar plan of redemption--outside of the
large cities was almost exclusively one which necessitated the
employment of circuit-riders, as they were then called, and are now
called in some portions of the extreme west. They were usually men of
great suavity of manner, personal bravery, unbounded zeal, and
remarkable religious enthusiasm. They trusted principally in the Lord,
but also placed implicit confidence in the extraordinary hospitality of
the plain pioneer people with whom they came in contact, who, if not
prepared to accept everything told them, responded to their strenuous
efforts for their salvation by an unqualified welcome; so that the
appearance of the circuit-rider, or "supply," was not only cause for
unusual Bible catechism and hymn reading, but also a signal for culinary
preparations on a grand scale, to which, as a rule, the hen-roost
materially contributed.

Time and time again, in the early days, have I journeyed with these
Gospel Knights-errant, listening to their interesting adventures, almost
as strange as my own, and their simple tales of blessed experiences;
often tarrying with them at their "stations," and for some good purpose,
best known to myself, joining in their efforts to sow seed meet unto
repentance as we crossed the beautiful streams and broad prairies of
Illinois; and as we journeyed along so pleasantly together the thought
that my comrade was giving his whole life to the work of saving sin-sick
souls, while mine was as irrevocably devoted to bringing many of them to
summary justice, has flashed across my mind with such startling force,
that the dramatic nature of the life we live was presented to me more
powerfully than I have since seen it shown before the footlights of any
of the grandest theatres of the world.

As the Nettleton family had belonged to that church in the East, and had
also attended service at the village when the roads and weather were
favorable, they were, of course, leaders in the plan to secure
"meetings" nearer home; and when the good brother made his appearance
one pleasant autumn Saturday afternoon, as was natural, he directed his
faithful Rozinante to the comfortable log-house by the river, where both
it and its reverend rider were given a genuine welcome.

The new preacher was none of your soiled, worked-out, toiling
itinerants. He was a young clergyman, scarcely thirty years old, and
just from college; tall, well-formed, with a florid, smoothly-shaven
face, and plenty of hair and hallelujah about him. He could tell you all
about the stars, and just as easily point out the merits or demerits in
your plate of mutton or porter-house; and, being of this tropical
nature, if there were two things above any other two things in life for
which he had a penchant, they were a spirited nag and a spirited woman.
In fact, he had accepted the ministry just the same as he would have
accepted any other profession, merely as a makeshift, and had submitted
to being ground through the theological mill, and afterwards to this
backwoods breaking-in process, simply because his widowed mother, a
Detroit lady, was immensely pious and also immensely wealthy; and if he
should become a noted minister, he would get all her property, which
otherwise would go to the good cause direct, but which, once in his
hands, would enable him to gratify his elegant tastes and do as he
pleased generally.

So, being a thorough judge of women, he was at once more interested in
Lilly Nettleton than in the welfare of the souls of the Nettleton
neighborhood; and after a bountiful supper had been disposed of, and
the family were gathered upon the verandah for a pleasant chat with the
minister in the long, hazy September sunset, and the Rev. Mr. Bland--for
that was the young clergyman's name--had flattered Mr. Nettleton on the
merits of his pretty farm, Mrs. Nettleton upon her elegant cooking, and
the younger children upon their various degrees of perfection, he passed
directly to the subject which most occupied his mind, and in a
patronizing way, evidently with a view of attracting Lilly's attention
without arousing the suspicions of her honest parents, said:

"By the way, Mr. Nettleton, your beautiful daughter here--ah, what may I
call her? thank you, Lilly; and a very appropriate name, too--is the
perfect image of a very dear friend of ours--my mother's and my own--in
Detroit."

There was certainly a flush on Lilly's face deeper than could have been
put there by the red glow of the setting sun. Mr. Bland did not fail to
notice it either; and as there was no response to his remark, he
continued, occasionally glancing at Lilly, who, though apparently only
interested in her needle-work, drank in every word that fell from the
reverend gentleman's lips.

"In fact," said the minister, "the resemblance is quite striking, though
I really think your daughter Lilly is the finer-looking of the
two--indeed, has quite an intellectual face, and would, I am sure, make
a thorough student."

"But she won't go to school here," interrupted Mr. Nettleton; while the
strange light came into Lilly's eyes and the crimson and ashy paleness
played upon the curled lips.

"But, Brother Nettleton, you must remember that we are not all similarly
created. The world must have its hewers of wood and drawers of water,
but it must also have its grand minds to direct----"

"I can do all the directin' necessary here," bluntly persisted Mr.
Nettleton.

"Of course, of course," pleasantly continued Mr. Bland, talking _at_
Lilly, though answering her father; "but I hope Lilly can some time have
those advantages which would certainly cause her to shine in
society----"

"And despise her home!" said Mr. Nettleton, bitterly.

The storm was still playing fiercely over Lilly's face, and her heaving
bosom told how hard a struggle was necessary to restrain her from then
and there saying or doing some reckless thing, and then rushing away
into the woods and the night to escape the restraint that set so heavily
upon her imperious spirit.

"No, I think not," replied Mr. Bland soothingly. "I am a pretty good
judge of human nature, though a young man, and am sure that Lilly has a
kind heart and will prove a blessing to your later years. Our dear
Detroit friend was also a little spirited, but she is now one of the
leaders of Sunday-school and church society, and is much sought
after--yes, much sought after," repeated Mr. Bland slowly, as he saw its
effect upon Lilly.

The clergyman's good opinion of their daughter made the simple parents
really happy; but she knew as well as he what it was all said for, and
she already hated the flippant Mr. Bland, for her quick woman's
instinct--they never reason--had analyzed him thoroughly. But her heart
throbbed at the idea of being considered "fine-looking," and her brain
burned with the desire to also become "sought after." Yes, young and
inexperienced as she was, she was old in the crime of impure thought and
unbridled ambition, and was ready to lend herself to any scheme, however
questionable, that might offer release, or give promise of the
gratification of her passion for notoriety, and ruling or ruining
anything with which she came in contact.

After this the evening passed pleasantly to the old people, who, after a
time, went into the house to attend to their several duties; and also to
the young people, Mr. Bland and Lilly, who, without any effort on the
part of either, had arrived at a thorough understanding--so much so,
indeed, that when the voice of Mr. Nettleton was heard apprising Mr.
Bland that he would show him to his room whenever he desired to retire,
he quietly stepped near to where Lilly was sitting in the weird
moonlight, and taking her pretty, warm hand within his own, said
rapidly, but in a low voice:

"My dear Lilly, I have a deep interest in you; your people cannot
understand it, and, should they know it, would only suspect me, and
watch and restrain you. _Make_ an opportunity for us to be together
alone. I will remain until you accomplish it; and--" Mr. Nettleton's
step was now heard in the hall--"quick, Lilly! do we understand each
other?"

She gave him a look that would have withered any but a lecherous
villain as he was; but he met it in kind, as she whispered "Yes!" and
added, disengaging herself as Bland stealthily stepped back and
carelessly leaned against the door:

"What book did you say?"

"Ah, yes--'hem! 'Young's Night Thoughts.' It is a pure book, and would
not only cultivate your mind, but aid you in the common duties of life.
I will send it to you, and you can read it aloud to your parents. I know
they will enjoy it too! Ha! Mr. Nettleton, excuse me Lilly, of course
you will join us at prayers?"

She had been taught her first lesson, was an apt scholar, too; and as
the man of God on his bended knees prayed that all blessings might
descend upon this happy home, however much his cursed soul might have
been stung by the devilish hypocrisy of the hour, there was not a pang
of remorse in her heart for the bold step she knew she had taken.

Lilly did not attend service at the school-house on Sabbath, and made
her appearance but once or twice during the day, feigning illness; but
on Monday she was about the house fresh and rosy as ever, and the first
opportunity that offered suggested to Bland the propriety of asking her
out for a boat-ride on the river, which he did in the afternoon during
Mr. Nettleton's absence, his meek wife thinking it a great honor to the
family, and in her poor mother's heart, no doubt, praying that the good
man might so soften her proud daughter's heart that she might be
bettered, and eventually led to the source of all good.

Whether he did or not, if the reader of this book could have followed
the couple up the winding river to a secluded spot where the golden
maple-leaves fell upon the stream and were borne away in silence,
whatever of mad passion or reckless guilt might have been discovered,
just before they stepped into the boat to float with the tide back to
the dishonored home, a certain Rev. Mr. Bland might have been seen
placing in Lilly Nettleton's shameless hand a roll of bills, and heard
to say to the same person:

"Be sure, now--next Sunday night. Row down to Kalamazoo in this boat,
and take the late night train for Detroit. Go to the Michigan Exchange
Hotel, where I will meet you Monday evening!"

So the little neighborhood had had its "religious supply," but had also
had its loss; for, as the weird moonlight of the next Sunday evening
fell upon the quiet log farm-house, built strange forms among the
moaning, almost leafless trees, and pictured upon the river's bosom a
thousand ghostly figures, the scared form of a young woman stole away
from her home, glided to the murmuring stream, sprang into the little
boat, and was borne away to the hell of her future just as noiselessly
but just as resistlessly as the river itself pushed onward to the great
lakes, and was swept from thence to the ultimate, all-absorbing sea!




CHAPTER III.

   Lilly in Detroit.-- First and last Remorse.-- The reverend
      Villain and his Victim enjoy the Hospitality of the
      Michigan Exchange Hotel.-- A Scene.-- "Bland, am I to go
      to your Mother's, as you promised?"-- The Clergyman(?)
      "crazed."-- Everything, save Respectability.-- A Woman's
      Will-- And a Man's Cajolement.


To the imagination of the wayward country girl Detroit was a great city,
and as she was whirled into the depot, where she saw the rushing river
beyond, and was hustled hither and thither by the clamorous cabmen, a
sense of giddiness came upon her, and for the first, and undoubtedly
last time, she yearned for the quiet of the old log farm-house by the
pleasant river.

Perhaps the old forms and faces called to her imploringly, pleading with
her, as only the simple things of home, however plain and commonplace,
can plead with the wandering one; and in a swift, agonized longing for
the restfulness which the meanest virtue gives, but which had forever
fled from her, the thought, if not the words:

  "Of all sad words of tongue or pen
   The saddest are these: It might have been"--

sped through her mind in a pitiful way; but just as she had almost
resolved to return to her parents, ask their forgiveness, and disclose
the character of the reverend villain, a man approached her, who,
saying he was "from Bland," conducted her to a carriage in waiting and
conveyed her to the Michigan Exchange Hotel, where she was fictitiously
registered, and the clerk informed that her brother would call for her
in the evening.

She had been assigned a very pretty room, elegantly furnished, and the
windows gave her a view of the river and the shipping, with Windsor and
the bluff hills of Canada beyond. It was all beautiful and wonderful to
her--the hotel a palace, the river, with its great steamers, vessels,
and ferries--a fairy scene; and Windsor, with the broken country beyond,
all covered by the soft, blue, gossamer veil of early autumn--a
beautiful dream!

With her thoroughly unprincipled nature there was a lazy sort of
enjoyment in all this; and when her dinner was brought to her room, as
had been previously ordered by the hackman, and she was gingerly served
by an ordinarily nimble waiter, but who took every possible occasion to
illustrate the fact that he was cultivated and she was not, she received
the attention in as dignified a manner as though born to rule, and had
been accustomed to the service of menials from infancy.

The afternoon wore away, and as the gas-lights began to flare out upon
the city, a gentle tap was heard at her door, and a moment after, before
an invitation to enter had been given, the oily Bland slid into Lilly's
apartment, closed the door after him, and turned the key in the lock.
Then he walked right over to where Lilly was sitting upon the sofa, and
took her in his arms, saying:

"Well, I see my dearest Lilly has kept her word."

She allowed him to fondle her just long enough to dare to repel him
gently, and answered:

"After what passed by the river, I could not do otherwise than keep my
word. Yes, your 'dearest Lilly' has kept her word. And what now, Mr.
Bland?"

Seeing that she was disposed to ask leading questions, he changed the
subject laughingly.

"Why, some supper, of course," and immediately rang the bell, ordering
of the servant, who appeared directly, a sumptuous spread, not
forgetting a bottle of wine.

During the preparation of the meal Lilly stepped to the window, and
pressing her restless face against the panes, seemed intently regarding
the dancing lights upon the broad river, while Bland whistled softly,
and warmed his delicate, pliable hands at the coals in the fireplace,
which gave to the chilly evening a pleasant, cheery glow. Suddenly she
stepped close to him, leaned her head in her left hand, her elbow
resting upon the marble mantel, while with her right hand she firmly
grasped his shoulder. She then said, in a quiet, determined way:

"Bland, am I to go to your mother's, as you promised?"

[Illustration: _"Bland, am I to go to your mother's as you
promised?"--_]

She said this in such a resolute, icy way, and her hand rested upon his
shoulder so heavily, that, for the first time, he looked at her as if
satisfied that he had a beautiful tigress in keeping, and it might
possibly require supreme will force to control her.

"No, Lilly, you will not go to my mother's."

"Then I will go home."

"You will not go home. You will remain here."

"Bland, no person on God's earth shall say 'will' to me. That is just as
certain as the course of that river!" and her long, trembling forefinger
swept towards the rushing stream.

The appearance of the waiter with supper quieted the conversation, which
was becoming stormy, and it was only resumed when Bland saw that Lilly
was mellowing under the influence of the wine, which thrilled through
her veins, pushing the rich, healthy blood to her cheeks, and lighting
her great gray eyes with a wonderful lustre. It could not be said that
he loved the girl, but he had a mad passion for her which was simply
overwhelming at these times when, untutored and uncultivated as she was,
she became truly queenly in appearance.

It was a dainty little supper served upon a dainty little table, and
they were sitting very closely together, and Bland, after feasting his
eyes upon her magnificent form for a time, drew her into his arms
impulsively, kissing her again and again, calling her endearing names,
and promising her everything that could come to the tongue of a talented
man made wild by wine and a woman.

"Lilly, you have crazed me--ruined me!" he said, excitedly. "You know
what I profess to be--a Christian minister! God forgive me for my cursed
weakness, but you have me in your power!"

Although her face rested against his, and their hot cheeks burned
together, the old wicked light gleamed in her eyes, and the crimson and
ashy paleness played upon the curled lip. If it all could have been seen
by the reverend gentleman, it would have sobered him. The words "in your
power" had flung the lightning into Lilly Nettleton's face. Power,
power, power! No matter how secured; no matter what the result. The very
word maddened her, made a scheming devil of her, but also made her ready
for any proposition Bland might offer, as it swiftly came into her mind
that the deeper she sank with him the greater would be her power over
him.

"Well?" she said, reassuringly.

"'Well?'--I am at your mercy. A knowledge of what has passed between us
would be my ruin; your ruin also. We have done what cannot be undone;
yes," he continued passionately, and drawing her closer to him, "what I
would not undo!"

"Well?" It was tenderly said, and gave him courage.

"I am rich, or will be, Lilly."

"If you are careful," she added with a light laugh.

"Exactly. I can do a great deal for you, and will----"

"Conditionally?"

"Yes, conditionally. The conditions are that you live quietly at an
elegant place to which we will shortly be driven. You will be mistress
of the place; that is, you will have everything you can desire----"

"Save respectability, Mr. Bland?"

She was shrewder than he--in fact, his master already; but hinted at
the sale of her soul so heartlessly that it shocked even him.

"You had 'respectability' at home, Lilly; and," glancing at her plain
garments, which were a burlesque upon her beautiful figure, "and old
clothes, and surveillance, and restraint, and----"

"Bland," she said, springing to her feet with such violence as to send
him sprawling to the floor, from which he stared in amazement at her
magnificent form, which trembled like a leaf, while the wicked lightning
gleamed from her eyes, and swift shuttles of color flashed back and
forth upon her lips; "Bland, be careful! Never speak to me again of the
meanness of my home. The meanness of your black heart is a million times
greater. You have something more than a country girl to deal with, sir;
you have a woman and a woman's will. It is enough that I have sold my
body and soul for what you can, or might, give me. I bargained for no
contempt; and, Bland," she continued, advancing towards him fiercely as
he regained his feet and retreated from her in dismay, "as sure as there
is a heaven, and as sure as there ought to be a hell for such as we, if
you begin it, I will kill you! Yes," she hissed, "I will kill you!" and
then, woman-like, having passed the climax of feeling and expression,
she threw herself on the bed for a good cry, while Bland, with wine and
words and countless caresses, soothed her wild spirit, bringing her back
to pliant good nature, where she was as putty in his dexterous hands.




CHAPTER IV.

   Tells how the Rev. Mr. Bland preached a Funeral Sermon.--
      Shows a dainty Cottage, holding more than the Neighbors
      knew.-- Installs Lilly as a Clergyman's Mistress.--
      Reverts to a Desolate Home.-- Introduces Dick Hosford, a
      returned "Forty-Niner," who begins a despairing Search.--
      And shows that unholy, as well as true Love, does not
      always run smoothly.


Shortly afterwards a closed cabriolet containing two persons was rapidly
driven from the Michigan Exchange up Wisconsin street, from thence into
Griswold, and out towards the suburbs, finally drawing up before a neat
cottage-house, where the lights, peeping around the edges of the drawn
curtains, showed the place to be in a state of preparation.

A man and a woman quickly alighted from the carriage, and as the woman,
apparently a young one, though closely veiled, stepped to the gate,
opened it and waited for her escort, the gentleman said in a low tone to
the coachman:

"James, drive to the house and inform mother that while down town this
evening I received an unexpected call to Ann Arbor, to preach a funeral
sermon over the remains of an old student-friend at the University, and
that I may not be home until late to-morrow evening;" then, after
handing James some coin, "you understand, James?"

James thought he understood, grinned grimly, put the money in his pocket
and drove away.

"Remember, Lilly," said Bland, stepping to the gate and taking her arm,
"you are Lilly Mercer here."

"Yes, Bland."

"And you are never to mention anything regarding yourself to the lady
who owns this place."

"I think I can keep my own counsel."

"And, if any inquiries are made here, by any person whatever, regarding
myself, you are to be innocently and utterly ignorant."

"And what are you to do?" asked Lilly, naively.

"I?--why I am to do well by you."

"Just so long as you do that, Bland, you are perfectly safe!"

She had taken to dictating also; but it was a pretty little cottage and
grounds, and a feeling of satisfaction at being their mistress, even if
it necessitated being his mistress, came over her that made her affable
and winning, if she did occasionally say things that hinted at a stormy
future.

They strolled up the broad brick walk, he thrilled with his magnificent
capture, and she just as satisfied with the power she had attained over
one so high socially, and who stood in such near prospect of obtaining
vast wealth. Instead of entering the house at its little front door with
its highly ornamented porch, they opened the door of a little
trellis-worked addition to the cottage, which was now covered by an
almost leafless mass of vines, and passed to a side entrance, where a
gentle pull of the bell caused the immediate appearance of a very fat
and very flabby woman of middle age, who at once conducted them to a
suite of rooms, consisting of a parlor and a large sleeping-room,
between which, in place of the original folding-doors, had been
substituted rich hangings sufficiently drawn apart to admit of the
passage of one person, and which, with the tastefully draped windows,
the deeply-framed pictures, the vari- marble mantels and
fireplaces, the heavy, yielding carpet giving back no sound to the
foot-fall, and the great easy-chairs into which one sank as into pillows
of down, gave the rooms the hintings of such luxuriousness that Lilly
was completely dazzled and bewildered with the unexpected elegance, and
the, to her, never before realized splendor.

"Mother Blake," said Bland, "this is Lilly Mercer, who is my friend, and
whom you are to make comfortable."

Mother Blake, as if realizing that her duties began whenever Bland
spoke, majestically crossed the room, sat down beside Lilly and
immediately kissed her very affectionately, merely remarking, "And a
very nice girl she is, too, Mr. Bland."

"That'll do, mother. You may get us a small bottle of wine, and then go
to bed. It's getting late, and you know you need a good deal of sleep."

Mother Blake chuckled, and shook from it as though her enjoyment of any
sort of pleasantry came to the surface only in a series of ripples over
her great fat body, instead of in echoes of enjoyment from her great fat
throat. But it might have been merely a habit with its origin in the
necessities of her quiet mode of life; and, doing as requested, only
lingered to fasten back the curtain so that the low, luxurious bed came
temptingly into view, after which she beamingly backed out of the room,
wishing the couple "a pleasant night, and many of 'em!"

If shame hovered over this pretty place, it did not pale the amber glow
of the sparkling wine; it came not into the ruddy coals upon the hearth,
which gave forth their glowing warmth just as cheerily as from any other
hearth in the broad land; it never dimmed the light from the gilded
chandeliers; it put no crimson flush upon the faces which touched each
other with an even flow of blood, nor quickened the pulses of the hands
that as often met; and God only knows whether, when, as sleep came down
upon the city, and the man and woman rested in each other's arms upon
the bed beyond the rich curtains (which, as the light in the fireplaces
grew or waned, never contained one ghostly rustle or semblance), there
was even a guilty dream to mark its presence!

But what of the inmates of the old log farm-house by the pleasant river?

The morning came, and the agonized parents found that their daughter had
gone. Robert Nettleton set his teeth and swore that he would never
search for her, while his poor wife was completely broken and crushed as
much from the agonized fears that flooded into her heart as from the
actual loss of her child.

The most dejected member of the household, however, was a new-comer, one
Dick Hosford, who years before had drifted into the Nettleton family and
had been brought up by them until, becoming a stout young man, he was
borne away in the gold excitement with the "Forty-niners" to California,
where by hard work and no luck whatever, being an honest, simple soul,
he had got together a few thousand dollars; with no announcement of his
proposed return, had come back as far as Terre Haute, Indiana, where he
had purchased a snug farm, and immediately turned his footsteps towards
Mr. Nettleton's, arriving there the very morning after Lilly's
departure, as he said, "to marry the gal, but couldn't find her
shadder."

He was simply inconsolable, and it took off the keen edge of the
parents' grief somewhat to find that another shared it with them, and
even seemed to feel that it was all his own.

So it was arranged that the inquisitive neighbors should only know that
Lilly had "gone to town for a week or two," while Dick Hosford should go
to Chicago, and then back east as far as Detroit, making diligent search
for something even more tangible than the "shadder" of the lost girl;
and as he said good-by to the Nettletons with quivering lips and
suspiciously dimmed eyes, he added:

"Bob Nettleton, and mother--for you've always been a half-dozen mothers
to me--don't ye never expect to see me back to these yer diggin's
'thout I bring the gal. I've sot my heart onto her; and" with an oath
that the Recording Angel as surely blotted out as Uncle Toby's, for it
was only the clinching of a brave determination, "I'll have her if I
find her in a----" He stopped suddenly as he saw the pain in their
faces, shook their hands in a way that told them more than his simple
words ever could have expressed, and trudged away with as little
certainty of finding whom he sought, save by accident--or, if found, of
securing the prize for himself, unless through her whim--as of ever
himself becoming anything save the honest, faithful, gullible soul that
he was.

At Detroit, Mother Blake had orders to provide Lilly Mercer, her latest
charge, with a suitable wardrobe and some fine pieces of jewelry, which
was accordingly done; and in the novelty of her transformation, which
really made her a beautiful young woman, her ardor of fondness for Bland
was certainly sufficient to gratify both his vanity and passion to the
fullest extent. But, to some women, both passion and finery must be
frequently renewed in order to insure constancy; and while Bland was as
hopelessly in her toils as ever, as she had always despised him and now
despised his offerings, which were neither so numerous or costly as at
first, she became almost unmanageable, caused Mother Blake great
perturbation of spirit, and led Bland a deservedly stormy life.




CHAPTER V.

   Reckless Fancies.-- The "Cursed Church Interests."-- Bland's
      "little Bird" becomes a busy Bird.-- Merges into a great
      Raven of the Night.-- Gathers together Valuables.-- And
      while a folded Handkerchief lies across the Clergyman's
      Face, steals away into the Storm and the Night.-- Gone!--
      "Are ye all dead in there?"-- Drifting together.-- "Don't
      give the Gal that Ticket!"-- A great-hearted Man.-- The
      Rev. Bland officiates at a Wedding.-- Competence and
      Contentment.


A few weeks later, one November evening, the first snow-storm of the
year came hurrying and skurrying down upon the city. The streets seemed
filled with that thrilling, electric life which comes with the first
snow-flakes, and as they tapped their ghostly knuckles against the panes
of Lilly Mercer's boudoir, the weird _staccato_ passed into her restless
spirit and filled her mind with wild, reckless fancies. The storm had
beaten up against the cottage but a little time until it brought Bland
with it.

He came to tell his Lilly, he said, that the cursed church interests
would compel him to go to the West, to be absent for several weeks. In
mentioning the fact he sat down by the fireplace and gave her some money
for use while he was away, and also counted over quite an amount which
he had provided for his travelling expenses.

He also told her that he should leave the next evening, and would,
after a little time, of course, return for the night, as he could never
go on so long a journey without spending the parting hours with his
little bird, as he had come to call her.

His little bird had sat remarkably passive during all this, but now
fluttered about him with cooings and regrets innumerable, and seemed to
still be in a flutter of excitement when he had gone; for, after walking
up and down the rooms for a time, she flung some wrappings about her,
and quickly glided out among the pelting flakes that hid her among the
hurrying thousands upon the streets and within the shops, until she as
rapidly returned.

Within the warm nest again, there was a note to be written, and several
feathery but valuable trifles to be got together. In fact, Bland's
little bird was a busy bird, until when, at a late hour, he came back to
its unusually tender ways and wooings, and was soon slumbering beside
it.

Then the little bird became a great raven of the night, and stole
quietly about the apartments, gathering together, quite like any other
raven, everything that pleased its fancy, including even the money that
was to have been used in the "cursed church interests," and the gold
watch that ticked away at its sleeping owner's head, but not loud enough
to awaken him, for he slept with a peculiar heaviness, and, strangely
enough, with a folded handkerchief across his face. But the raven of the
cottage, in a quiet way that ravens have, never ceased gathering what
pleased it, until the early hours of morning, when, kissing its beak to
the bed and the sleeper, and flinging upon the bed a little note which
read:

   _A double expose if you like._

                                             LILLY "MERCER."--

took itself and its gathered treasures out into the storm and the night.

The storm was gone when the chloroformed man awoke, and the bright sun
pushed through the shutters upon his feverish face. Slowly and with
great effort he groped his way back to consciousness, and with a thrill
of fear reached out his hand for his little bird, and to reassure
himself that what was flooding furiously into his mind was untrue, and
was but some horrible nightmare that her dear touch would drive away.
But the place where she had lain was as cold and empty as her own
heartless heart; and as he faintly called, "Lilly! oh, Lilly!" the very
realistic voice of Mother Blake was heard in the hall, and her very
realistic fists banging away against the door.

"Say, Bland, are ye all dead in there? Lord! it's broad noon!"

All dead? No; but far better so, as the Rev. Mr. Bland with a mighty
effort sprang from the bed and saw the gas-light struggling with the
sunlight, the dead ashes in the fireplace, and himself in the great
mirror, a dishonored, despoiled, deserted roue, drugged, robbed and
defied by the simple maiden from the log farm-house by the pleasant
river.

The same evening two persons on wonderfully different missions drifted
into the depot and transfer-house at Detroit, and mingled with the great
throng that the east and the west continually throw together at this
point. One was a handsome, apparently self-possessed young lady, who
attended to her baggage personally, and moved about among the crowds
with apparent unconcern; though, closely watched, her face would have
shown anxiety and restlessness. The other was a gaunt, though solidly
built young fellow, whose clothes, although of good material, had the
appearance of having been thrown at him and caught with considerable
uncertainty upon his bony angles. He wandered about in a dejected way,
looking hither and thither as if forever searching for some one whose
discovery had become improbable, but who should not escape if an honest
search by an honest, simple fellow as he seemed to be, could avail
anything. By one of those unexplainable coincidences, or fatuities, as
some are pleased to term them, these two persons--the one desirous of
avoiding a crowd, and the other anxious to ascertain whom every throng
contained--approached the ticket-office from different directions at the
same moment.

He at the gent's window heard her at the ladies' window say to the
agent, "Yes, to Buffalo, if you please;" and he jumped as though he had
been lifted by an explosion. He peered through the window and saw her
face at the other window, and without waiting to step around to her,
yelled to the agent like a madman: "Say, you, mister!--don't give the
gal that ticket. It's a mistake. She's going 'tother way;" and shoving
his gaunt head and shoulders into the window and wildly gesticulating to
the young lady, as the agent in a scared way saw the muscular intruder
hovering over his tickets and money-box, he continued excitedly:

"Say, Lil, old gal! Lil Nettleton!--Dick--Dick Hosford, ye know! Ain't I
tellin' the truth? ain't it all a mistake, and ain't you goin' the other
way--with _me_, ye know--yes, 'long with Dick?"

[Illustration: _"Say, you?--mister?--don't give the gal that ticket!
It's all a mistake!"--_]

Lilly Nettleton, for it was no other, nodded to the agent--who returned
the money--and quickly stepped around to help Dick disengage himself
from the window, and then quickly drew him away from the crowd which the
little episode had collected, sat down beside him, and, heartily
laughing at his ludicrous appearance, said, "Why, Dick, where under
heaven did _you_ come from?"

"Lil, gal," said poor Dick, wiping the tears of joy out of his eyes, "I
come all the way from Californy fur ye, found ye gone and the old folks
all bust and banged up about it. Fur six weary weeks I've been huntin',
huntin' ye up and down, here and yon, and was goin' back to Terre Haute,
sell the d----d farm I bought fur ye, and skip back to the <DW72> to kill
Injuns, or somethin', to drown my sorrow, fur I told the old folks I'd
bring ye back, or never set foot in them diggin's agin'!"

Lilly looked at the great-hearted man beside her in a strange,
calculating kind of a way, never touched by his tenderness and simple
sacrifice, but moving very closely to him in a winsome way that quite
overcame him.

"And I come to marry ye, Lil," persisted Dick, anxiously.

"To marry me, Dick?"

"Yes, and bought ye a purty farm at Terre Haute."

"A farm, Dick?"

"Yes, Lil, a farm, with as snug a little house as ye ever sot eyes on."

"But where did you get so much money? You never wrote anything about
it."

"No, I wanted to kinder surprise ye; but I got it honest--got it honest;
with these two hands, Lil, that'll work for ye all yer life like a
<DW65>, if ye'll only come 'long with me and never go gallavantin' any
more."

"And won't you ask me any questions or allow them--at home, Dick--to ask
any, and take me just as I am?"

"Just as ye are; fur better, or fur wus, Lil."

"And marry me here, now, before we go home?"

"Marry ye, Lil? I'd marry ye if I'd a found ye in a----; I won't give it
a name, Lil. I didn't to them, and I won't to you."

She gave him her hand as firmly and frankly as though she had been a
pure woman, and said, "I'm yours, Dick. We'll be married here,
to-morrow."

She took charge of all the arrangements; called a cab which took them to
the Michigan Exchange; sent Dick off to his room with orders to secure a
license the first thing in the morning; wrote two notes to a certain
person, one addressed to Mother Blake, and the other to _his_
post-office box, ordering them posted that night; and went to her room
to sleep the sleep of the just, which, contrary to general belief, also
often comes to the unjust.

Early in the morning, Dick came with the license and suggested securing
the services of a preacher; but Lilly said that she had arranged that
matter already, and had got a clergyman who, she was sure, would not
disappoint them; and promptly at two o'clock in the afternoon
courteously admitted the Rev. Mr. Bland, whom she had given the choice
of officiating or an exposure, and who performed the ceremony in a pale,
trembling way as the wicked old light gleamed in her great, gray eyes,
and the swift shuttles of color played over her curled lip.

That night found the newly-wedded couple whirling back to Kalamazoo,
where they arrived the next morning and were driven out to the
farm-house, where they were joyfully welcomed, and where Dick Hosford in
his blunt way announced that he had "found Lil workin' away like a good
girl, had married her and took a little bridal 'tower,' and had come
back to have no d----d questions asked."

So in a few days the young couple bade the Nettletons good-by and were
soon after installed in the pleasant farm-house near Terre Haute, where
the years passed on happily enough and brought them competence and
contentment and three children, who for a long time never knew the
meaning of the strange light in the eyes, or the swift colors on the
lips, of the mother who cared for them with an apparent full measure of
kindness and affection.




CHAPTER VI.

   Mr. Pinkerton is called upon.-- Mr. Harcout, a
      ministerial-looking Man, with an After-dinner Voice,
      appears.-- A Case with a Woman in it, as is usually the
      case.-- Mr. Pinkerton hesitates.-- An anxious Millionaire.


One hot July afternoon in 186-, I was sitting in my private office at my
New York Agency, located then, and now, at the corner of New Street and
Exchange Place, in the very heart of the money and stock battles of
Gotham, pretty well tired out from a busy day's work in carrying to
completion some of the vast transactions that had accumulated during the
war, and which were in turn waiting for my professional services to
unravel.

It had been a terribly hot day, and the city seemed like a vast caldron
filled with a million boiling victims; and now that the day's labor was
nearly over, I was principally employed in an attempt to keep cool, but
finding it impossible with everybody about me, settled myself in my
easy-chair at the window to watch the Babel of brokers below.

From such an altitude, where one can look down soberly upon these madmen
and see their wild antics, when for the moment they are absolutely
insane in their thirst for gold, never halting at the most extreme
recklessness even though they know it may compel wholesale ruin, it is
easy to realize how isolated cases occur where the whole human nature
yields to greed, and sweeps on to the certain accomplishment of crime
for its satisfaction.

Just after a particularly heavy "rush" had been made, resulting in a few
broken limbs and numberless tattered hats and demolished garments, and
the bulls and bears were gathered about in knots excitedly talking over
their profit and loss, and wiping the great beads of perspiration, from
their lobster-like faces, I noticed an important-looking gentleman turn
into New Street from the direction of Broadway, and after edging through
the crowds, occasionally halting to ask a question in the politest
possible manner--the replies and gestures to which seemed to indicate
that he was seeking my agency, which afterwards proved true--this vision
of precision and politeness passed from my sight into Exchange Place,
and in a few moments after I was informed that a gentleman desired to
see me on very important business.

After ascertaining who the gentleman was, and already knowing him to be
a harmless sort of an adventurer, and under the particular patronage of
a wealthy Rochester gentleman, I admitted him and he was introduced as
Mr. Harcout, of Rochester and New York.

Mr. Harcout was a character in his way, and deserving of some notice. He
was a tall, heavily-built, obese gentleman of about forty-five years of
age, impressive, important, and supremely polite. His face was a strange
combination of imbecility and assumption; while his head, which was
particularly developed in the back part, indicating low instincts that
were evidently only repressed as occasion required, was consistent with
the formation of his square, flat forehead, which sloped back at a
suspiciously sharp angle from a pair of little, gray, expressionless
eyes, which from the lack of intelligence behind them would look you out
of face without blinking. His nose was straight and solidly set below,
like some sharp instrument, to assist him in getting on in the world.
His lips, though not unusually gross or sensual, had a way of opening
and closing, during the pauses of conversation with a persistency of
assertion that had the effect of keeping in the mind of the average
listener that great weight should be attached to what Mr. Harcout had
said, or was about to say; and at the same time, as also when he
patronizingly smiled, which was almost constantly, disclosed a set of
teeth of singular regularity and dazzling whiteness. A pair of very
large ears, closely-cut and neatly-trimmed hair, and a whitish-olive
complexion that suggested sluggish blood and a lack of fine
organization, complete the sketch of his face, but could never give the
full effect of the grandeur of his assumption and manners, which were a
huge burlesque on chivalric courtliness. As he entered the room his
gloved hand swept to the rim of his faultless silk hat, and removed it
with an indescribably graceful gesture that actually seemed to make the
hat say, "Ah! my very dear sir, while I belong to a gentleman of the
vastest importance imaginable, be assured that we are both
inexpressibly honored by this interview!" Nor were these all of his
strikingly good points. He was a man that was always dressed in a suit
of the finest procurable cloth, most artistically fitted to his
commanding figure, and never a day passed when there was not an
exquisite favor in the neat button-hole of his collar. When he had
become seated in a most dignified and engaging manner, he had a neat
habit of showing his little foot encased in patent leather so shining
that, at a pinch, it might have answered for a mirror, by carelessly
throwing his right leg over his left knee, so that he could keep up an
incessant tapping upon his boot with the disengaged glove which his left
hand contained; and, with his head thrown slightly back and to one side,
emphasized his remarks in a graceful and convincing way with the digit
finger of his soft white right hand. Altogether he would have passed for
a person of considerable importance and good commercial and social
standing; but to one versed in character-reading he gave the impression
that he might at one time have been an easy-going clergyman, who had
lapsed into some successful insurance or real estate agency that had
been unexpectedly profitable; or, at least, was a man who had thoroughly
and artistically acquired the science of securing an elegant livelihood
through the confidence he could readily inspire in others.

"Ah! Mr. Pinkerton, I am very glad to see you--very glad to see you; in
fact, I take it as a peculiar honor, though my business with you is of
an unpleasant nature," said Mr. Harcout, settling into his chair with a
kind of bland and amiable dignity.

I saw that he was making a great effort to please me, and told him
pleasantly that it was quite natural for people to visit me on
unpleasant business.

"Thank you, thank you," he replied in his rich, after-dinner voice, that
seemed to come with his winning smile to his lips through a vast measure
of good-fellowship and great-heartedness. "I feel that I am occupying a
peculiar position, both painful and embarrassing to me: first, as the
friend and agent of a wealthy man who is also an acquaintance of yours,
and operates on the Produce Exchange, here; and second, in being obliged
to ascertain whether you will take our case without your becoming too
fully aware of the particulars, in the event of your refusal."

"Well," said I encouragingly, highly enjoying his embarrassment and
assumed importance, "if you will give me a general outline of the
matter, I will take it into consideration; and, in any event, you can
rest assured that our walls have no ears to what our patrons have to say
within them."

"Well, then," replied Harcout with a winning smile, "to be honest with
you, Mr. Pinkerton, there's a woman in our case; yes--though I'm very
sorry to say it--the case is almost entirely a woman case."

"In that event, Mr. Harcout, I must plainly say to you that I don't like
those cases at all. I have all the business that I can attend to, and
even more than I sometimes desire; and I really think you had better
secure the services of some other person."

"Pray don't say so; pray don't say so, Mr. Pinkerton. Ah! what _could_
induce you to take the case?"

"No sum of money," I replied, "unless I was fully assured that it was
all right--that is, had the right on your side. Almost without exception
these cases with women in them, where men become jealous of their
mistresses, mistresses of their men, wives of their husbands, husbands
of their wives, or when the lively and vigorous mother-in-law lends
spice to life, and, indeed, all those troubles arising from social
abuses, are a disgrace to every one connected with them."

Harcout seemed quite disappointed that I did not express more avidity to
transact the business he proffered, but continued in his blandest
manner:

"Still, supposing, although we were not altogether in the right, we were
endeavoring to defend ourselves against a vile woman who had manipulated
circumstances so that she had us greatly in her power?"

"I should still feel a great reluctance in taking the case. All my life
I have had one steady aim before me, and that has been to purify and
ennoble the detective service; and I am sure that all this sort of
business is degrading in the extreme to operatives engaged upon it."

"Very good, very good. But, Mr. Pinkerton, supposing the person pursued
was worth two or three millions of dollars; that after the parties had
met in a casual way, and, through a strange and unexplainable feeling of
admiration mingled with awe which she had compelled in him, she had
acquired a familiarity with his habits, business, and vast wealth, and
had from that time schemingly begun a plan of operations to entrap him
into marrying her, working upon his rather susceptible temperament
through his peculiar religious belief, in order to gain power over him,
and then, failing to secure him as a husband, had for some time pursued
a system of threats and quiet, persistent robbery, constantly becoming
more brazen and impudent, until he could bear it no longer, when he had
refused to see her or submit to further blackmail, whereupon she had
heartlessly attempted his social and financial ruin, by bringing a suit
against him for $100,000 damages for breach of promise of marriage?"

This extended conundrum flushed Harcout, and his magnificent silk
handkerchief came gracefully into use to very gently and delicately
absorb the perspiration that had started upon his porous face.

"Mr. Harcout," I still insisted, "I should then require to be
unqualifiedly assured that the woman in question was not a young woman
who had really been led to believe the promise of some man old enough to
be her father, and who should accept the consequences of his
indiscretion philosophically."

"Exactly, exactly," responded Harcout, quite uneasily, though with an
evident endeavor at pleasantry; "and quite noble of you, too, Mr.
Pinkerton! Really, I had not anticipated finding such delicate honor
among detectives!" and he laughed a low, musical laugh which seemed to
come gurgling up from his capacious middle.

I told him he might term it "delicate honor" or whatever he liked; that
I had made thorough justice a strict business principle, and found that
it won, too; but that, with the understanding that he had fairly
represented the case, I would give it my consideration and apprise him
of my decision the next day, giving him an appointment for that purpose;
after which, while verbosely expressing the hope that I would assist
him, he bowed himself out in a very impressive manner, passed into the
street, which was now nearly as quiet as the Trinity Church-yard close
by, and immediately went to the St. Nicholas, where he flourishingly
reported the interview to the anxious millionaire, who thanked fortune
for such a powerful and majestic friend.




CHAPTER VII.

   In Council.-- Mr. Lyon the Millionaire, with Mr. Harcout the
      Adventurer and Adviser, appear together.-- How Mr. Lyon
      became Mrs. Winslow's Victim.-- "Our blessed Faith" and
      the Woman's strange Power.-- A Tender Subject.-- Deep
      Games.-- A One Hundred Thousand Dollar Suit for Breach of
      Promise of Marriage.-- A good deal of Money.-- All liable
      to err.-- A most magnificent Woman.-- The "Case" taken.


In the meantime I had a conversation on the subject with my General
Superintendent, Mr. Bangs, in which we weighed the case thoroughly in
all its bearings. I held, as I always do in such cases, if further
investigation proved that the woman was one whose youth, or even
inexperience, was such as to make it probable that she had been met by a
man whose position had dazzled and bewildered her, and who, from his
wealth and opportunities for exerting the immense influence of wealth,
had led her to believe that he loved her, and had had such attention
lavished upon her as had awakened in her heart an affection for him
which should deserve some consideration, and that finally, after
accomplishing his purpose, he had flung her from him, as was an
every-day occurrence, it was a case which I could under no circumstances
touch; its justice ought only to be determined in the courts.

On the other hand, I argued that if this troublesome woman was grown in
years, had arrived at a mature age, and had deliberately planned to
secure a certain power over Harcout's friend in the questionable manner
ascribed--had, in fact, used the "black arts" upon him, and in every
manner possible fascinated him irresistibly, and wrung from him promises
and pledges which no man in his sane moments would give, in order
through this dishonorably-gained power to secure him for a husband--or
worse, in the event of failing in this, of levying upon his wealth for
the dishonor she had herself compelled, it was a case where I had a
right to interfere in the best interests of society, as the professional
female blackmailer is below pity, ought to be beyond protection of any
sort whatever, has forfeited all the actual and poetical regard due her
sex, and should be in every instance remorselessly hunted down.

This conclusion was easily arrived at; for at each of my agencies all
that is necessary for a decision upon a desired investigation is that my
local superintendent shall sift the matter, to prove beyond the shadow
of a doubt that the vast power of the detective service under my control
shall not, under any circumstances, be prostituted to the assistance of
questionable enterprises, or the furtherance of dishonorable schemes.

Accordingly, when Mr. Harcout wafted himself into my office the next
day, like a fragrance-laden zephyr of early summer, I informed him that
he could depend on my assistance to discover the history and antecedents
of the woman; but that I should have to reserve the privilege of
discontinuing the service, should it at any time transpire that my
operatives were being employed for the purpose of discouraging a
defenceless woman in securing the justice due her.

It was arranged that Harcout was to call the next day with his patron,
the persecuted millionaire, and he also expressed a desire to defer a
settlement of the case in detail until that time, which was quite
agreeable to me, as I wished to see the parties together and closely
observe them, as well as their statements.

The next afternoon Mr. Harcout's elegant card was delivered to me, with
the message that his friend was also with him. I ordered that they
should be at once admitted, and in a moment the two gentlemen were
ushered into my private office. I immediately recognized the elder of
the two as J. H. Lyon, one of the wealthiest elevator owners and millers
of Rochester, a quiet, shrewd, calculating business man, who had amassed
vast wealth, or the reputation of its possession, and its consequent
commercial respect and credit.

He was a short, small-sized man, dressed in plain but rich garments, and
wore no jewelry save a massive solitaire diamond ring. His head, which
seemed to contain an average brain, was solidly set on a great, heavy
neck, that actually continued to the top of the back of his head without
a curve or depression. His hair, and beard--which was shaven away from
his lower lip to the curve of his chin--had a shaggy sort of look,
though generally well kept, and were considerably tinged with gray;
while his eyebrows were remarkably long, irregular, and forbidding. His
eyes were medium-sized, of a grayish-brown color, and under the heavy
shade of the brows somewhat keen and restless. His cheek-bones were
quite prominent, and below them his cheeks sank away noticeably, which
served to more strikingly show the upward turn of his nose and his full
lips and broad, sensual mouth, which, with its half-shown, irregular
teeth and ever-present tobacco-stains (for he smoked or chewed
incessantly), gave him a face quite unlike those ordinarily supposed to
be captivating to women. With his broad, bony hands, large, ill-shaped
feet, and retiring, hesitating way, as if never exactly certain of
anything, he was truly a great contrast to the pompous, elegant
gentleman who seemed to have taken him under his fatherly protection.

Lyon slid into his seat in a nervous, diffident way; while Harcout, who
had just drawn his chair between us, as if he desired it understood that
he did not propose to yield his office of general manager of this
vitally important affair under any circumstances, beamed on his friend
reassuringly.

After a few remarks on the current topics of the day, and before they
were themselves aware of it, we were getting along swimmingly towards an
understanding of the subject-matter--Lyon, who had removed his cigar,
fairly eating an immense amount of fine-cut as the voluble Harcout
rattled away about the bold, bad woman who had entrapped him.

"Why, my dear Mr. Pinkerton, it's a terrible matter--an infamous
affair! My friend here, Mr. Lyon, is quite nettled about it--I might
say, quite cut up. You can see for yourself, sir, that it's wearing on
him." This with a deprecating wave of his hand towards Lyon, who
nervously gazed out of the window from under his shaggy brows.

I merely said that these things _were_ sometimes a little wearing.

"But you see, Mr. Pinkerton, this is a peculiarly cruel case--a
peculiarly cruel case. Hem! _I_ know what is cruel in this respect, as I
was once victimized by very much the same sort of a female, though she
was _much younger_. Why, do you know, sir," and here the sympathetic
Harcout's voice fell into a solemn murmur, "that my friend's beloved
wife was scarcely at rest beneath the daisies when this Mrs. Winslow
began worming herself into the confidence of my somewhat impressible
friend here?"

I made no answer, and only took a memorandum of the facts developed, not
forgetting Harcout's statement that he had once been victimized by very
much the same sort of a female.

"She came to Rochester as a shining light among the exponents of our
blessed faith----"

"And what may your religion be?" I asked.

"We believe in the constant communication between mortals and the
occupants of the beautiful spirit home beyond the river."

"Exactly," said I, noticing the remarkable development at the back of
their heads and about their mouths.

"And our friend here, Mr. Lyon," continued Harcout, with his eyes
devoutly raised to the ceiling, "met her at one of our pleasant
seances."

I made another note at this point.

"To be frank--'hem! it's my nature to be frank--" then turning his face
to me and raising his eyebrows inquiringly--"I suppose, Mr. Pinkerton,
it is quite desirable that I should be so?" To which I responded,
"Necessarily so," when he resumed: "To be frank, then, Mr. Lyon was
wonderfully interested in her. In fact, the woman _has_ a strange power
of compelling admiration and even fear--shall I say fear, Mr. Lyon?"

"Guess that's about right," said Mr. Lyon tersely.

"Admiration and fear," repeated Mr. Harcout, as if thinking of something
long gone by, while Lyon chewed more fiercely than ever. "Indeed, Mr.
Pinkerton, she's a superb woman--a superb woman; but a she-devil for all
that!"

I noticed that Harcout's fervor seemed to have come from some similar
experience, and I noted both it and his heated estimate of Mrs. Winslow,
although he remarked that he had never met her.

"Well, my friend here was irresistibly drawn to her, and he has told me
that for a time it seemed that he had found his real affinity. You felt
that way, didn't you, Lyon?"

Lyon nodded and chewed rapidly.

"But for a long time the more my friend endeavored to secure her favor,
the more she seemed to draw away from and avoid him, though constantly
making opportunities to more deeply impress him with her most splendid
physical and mental qualities. My friend recollects now, though he gave
it no attention at the time, that she shrewdly drew from him much
information regarding his family affairs, habits, business relations,
and wealth; and as she was, or pretended to be, a medium of great power,
at those times when he sought her professional services she worked upon
his feelings in such a peculiar manner as to completely upset him."

Here Mr. Lyon offered an extended remark for the first time, and said:
"The truth is, Mr. Pinkerton, this is a subject that I am particularly
tender upon. I think under certain circumstances I could really have
made the woman my wife;" then turning to his agent, he said, "Harcout,
cut it short."

"But," Harcout protested, "we can't cut it short. Mr. Pinkerton wants
facts--he must have facts. Well, at one time Mr. Lyon felt a real
affection for the woman, which does him honor--is no disgrace to him;
but after a time began to suspect, and eventually to feel sure, that
Mrs. Winslow was playing a deep game; indeed, had originally come to
Rochester for that purpose; and while he still regarded her highly on
account of her fine qualities, refrained from seeking her society, which
at once seemed to awaken a violent and uncontrollable passion for him in
her heart. She sought him everywhere and compelled him to visit her
frequently, lavishing the wildest affection upon him, which he
delicately repelled--delicately repelled; and, as she represented
herself in straitened circumstances, charitably assisted her just as he
would have done any other person in want--any other person in want; but,
you see, Mrs. Winslow presumed upon this, accused him of having broken
her heart, and was now cruelly deserting her after he had taught her to
worship him."

Mr. Lyon's nervous face presented a singular combination of pride at his
own powers, chagrin at his predicament, and a general protest that the
tender privacies of a millionaire should be thus disclosed.

"In this way," continued Harcout, "she so worked upon his kindly
feelings that he really gave her large sums of money--large sums of
money."

"A good deal of money," interrupted Mr. Lyon.

"But finally," pursued Harcout, "my friend saw that he must discontinue
his charity altogether, and through my advice--hem! through my advice,
he did. Mrs. Winslow then became very impudent indeed, and annoyed my
friend beyond endurance, until he was forced to refuse to recognize her,
and gave orders that she should be denied admission to his office. But,
being a very talented woman----"

"She _is_ talented," said Lyon, with a start.

"She has found means to continue her operations against him incessantly,
demanding still larger sums of money, and has engaged counsel to act for
her. Hem!--under my advice, quite recently Mr. Lyon, by paying her five
thousand dollars, secured from her a relinquishment of all claims
against him, rather than oblige a public scandal. But now Mrs. Winslow
claims that this was secured by fraud, and after making another
fruitless demand for ten thousand dollars, which--hem! Mr. Lyon resisted
through my advice, last week began suit against him for one hundred
thousand dollars for breach of promise of marriage. And a hundred
thousand dollars is a big sum of money, Mr. Pinkerton."

"A big sum of money," echoed Lyon.

"But of course," continued Harcout, inserting his thumbs in the
arm-holes of his vest and looking the very picture of injured virtue,
"Mr. Lyon cares nothing for that amount. It is the principle of the
thing. It is the stain upon his good name that he desires to
prevent--and these juries are confoundedly unreliable."

"Confoundedly unreliable," repeated Lyon, chewing nervously.

"Therefore," said Harcout, "really believing, as we do, that we--hem!
that is, Mr. Lyon, of course--is the victim of a designing woman who
really means to wrongfully compel the payment of a large sum of money
and ruin my friend in the estimation of the public, we are anxious that
you should set about ascertaining everything concerning her for use as
evidence in the case."

After asking them a few questions touching facts I desired to ascertain,
the interview terminated with the understanding that Harcout should act
for Mr. Lyon unqualifiedly in the matter, and call at my office as
often as desirable to listen to reports of the progress of my
investigations into the life and history of Mrs. Winslow. I was
satisfied that not half the truth had been given me, and I was more than
ever convinced of this fact when Lyon called me to one side as the
lordly Harcout passed out, and said to me hurriedly:

"Don't be too hard upon the woman, Mr. Pinkerton. You know we are _all_
liable to err; and--and, by Jupiter! Mrs. Winslow is certainly a most
magnificent woman--a _most_ magnificent woman," and then chewed himself
out after his courtly henchman.




CHAPTER VIII.

   The Case begun.-- Mr. Pinkerton makes a preliminary
      Investigation at Rochester.-- Mrs. Winslow, Trance
      Medium.-- A Ride to Port Charlotte.-- Harcout as a
      Barnacle.-- Much married.-- Mr. Pinkerton visits the
      Mediums.-- Drops in at a Washington Hall Meeting.-- Sees
      the naughty Woman.-- And returns to New York convinced
      that the Spiritualistic Adventuress is a Woman of
      remarkable Ability.


As the interview related in the previous chapter occurred on Friday, and
I could not attend to the matter at once, I was obliged to wait until
the following Sunday evening, when I quietly took the western-bound
express, which brought me to Rochester the following noon, where I
engaged rooms at the Brackett House under an assumed name, and
immediately began a preliminary examination on my own account, having
directed my New York Superintendent to inform either Lyon or Harcout, in
the event of their calling at the agency, that I could not be seen
regarding their matter for a few days, as I had suddenly been called
South on important business.

My object in doing this was to look over the ground at Rochester myself,
and get an unbiased idea of the whole matter, so that I could properly
proceed with the work, being satisfied that this was the only way to
secure a basis to operate upon, as I was sure that I had not got at the
bottom facts in the late interview. I invariably insist on having all
the facts, and always take measures to secure them before any decided
move is made.

As a rule, however, in cases of this kind, it is almost impossible to
secure what the detective absolutely needs from the parties from whom
the information should come; as it is a principle of human nature
possessed by us all, to be very frank about our merits, and quite
careful about mentioning anything that might be construed into either a
lack of judgment or principle.

I found that the New York papers were already publishing specials
concerning the matter, with solemn editorials regarding the perfidy of
man, the constancy of woman, and the general cussedness of both; and
that at Rochester the knowledge of the commencement of the suit had just
got into the papers, and consequently, into everybody's mouth; and was
creating a great sensation, as Lyon was known to the whole city as one
of its richest citizens, "though a little off on Spiritualism lately,"
as the talk went; and Mrs. Winslow had also become quite notorious from
her magnificent figure and winning manner, her equally notorious
mediumistic powers, and through her prominent connection with the more
_material_ believers in spiritual phenomena; or, to be plain, that vast
majority of so-called spiritualists whose only visible means of support
are in excellently humbugging their brethren or sisters, or any other
portion of the gullible world with whom they come in contact.

Nearly every Rochester paper contained the advertisement of Mrs.
Winslow, trance medium, and I concluded that either the lady had been
unusually successful in her trance business, or that her levies upon
Lyon had been remunerative--perhaps both--to pay for such extensive
advertising.

After dinner I took a stroll and found that the lady occupied very
luxurious apartments on South St. Paul street, near Meech's Opera-house,
a location well adapted for her business. I also ordered a carriage and
drove out to Port Charlotte--a magnificent drive through a lovely
country dotted with fine farm-houses and the splendid suburban
residences of wealthy Rochester citizens--and, as a casual stranger,
inspected Lyon's warehouses and elevators, the largest and most
expensive at the Port, returning to the Brackett House in time to eat a
hearty supper.

After supper, without any effort, and without disclosing my identity, I
got into conversation with the genial landlord of the house, who gave
me--as a part of my entertainment, I presume--a rich account of Lyon's
business relations, and particularly of his personal habits, painted in
entirely different colors than by the blarneying tongue of Harcout; and
also spoke of the latter as "a d----d barnacle," who had in some
unexplainable way fastened himself upon Lyon and was living like a
prince off the "old fool," as he called him. He also told me
confidentially that he believed Mrs. Winslow to be a woman of
questionable character; as, when she first came to the city, she had
stopped at his hotel, and had advertised her mediumistic powers so
largely that it had brought a class of men there whom he thought, from
his personal knowledge of their habits, to be more interested in
inquiries into the mysteries of the _present_ than of the hereafter,
until he had become so anxious as to the reputation of his house that he
had informed the lady of the preference of her absence to her company;
whereupon she had raised such a storm about his ears that he was only
too glad to compromise by letting her go, bag and baggage, without
paying her bill, which was a large one and of a month's standing.

I also gained from him the opinion that she had been married a
half-dozen times, or as often as had suited her convenience; and that he
had only a day or so previous conversed with a gentleman from some part
of the West, who had told him that somebody in Rochester had assisted
her in procuring her a divorce from her husband. I made a note of all
these points after I had retired to my room, and felt quite satisfied
with the day's work.

The next day, with a gentleman at the hotel with whom I had become
acquainted, representing myself as a person of means who might possibly
make an investment at Rochester, I visited Lyon's mills, and
incidentally became quite well informed as to his financial and social
standing.

The latter was a little peculiar. His wife, a most estimable lady, had
died a few years previous, and it appeared that during her life the Lyon
family were among the aristocrats of the city; but at her death, and
Lyon's subsequent dabbling in Spiritualism, they had been gradually
dropped from the visiting lists, and nothing remained of the former home
circle save a gaunt, grim mother-in-law, who vainly waged war against
the loose habits, laxity of morals, and general degeneracy that had come
with the new order of things.

I also secured the addresses of all the professional mediums,
fortune-tellers, and astrologers of the city, and during that day and
the next visited their rooms, claiming to be a devoted believer in
Spiritualism, having my fortune told at various places, and picking up a
good deal of information regarding the fascinating Mrs. Winslow, which
tended to prove her a remarkably talented woman, capable of not only
attending to her mediumistic duties, but also of carrying on litigation
of various kinds in different parts of the country. My investigations
also showed that these different "doctors" and "doctresses," claiming to
perform almost miraculous cures and their ability to foretell the fates
of others through the aid of this supernatural spirit-power, were quite
like other people in their bickerings and jealousies, and, as a rule,
they gave each other quite as bad names as the public generally gave
them; and that Mrs. Winslow could not have been considered exactly the
pink of perfection if judged even by those of her own persuasion, as one
vaguely hinted at her having played the same game on other parties.
Another was sure she had been a camp-follower during the war. Another
assured me that she had similar suits at Louisville, Cincinnati, and St.
Louis. Still another was quite certain that she was only a common
woman. Altogether, according to these reports, which were easily enough
secured, as her case against Lyon was the engrossing subject of the hour
at Rochester, it appeared that the ravishing Mrs. Winslow held her
place, such as it was, in the world more through her supreme will power,
and the respect through fear she unconsciously inspired in others, than
through any of the tenderer graces or a superabundance of personal
purity.

From cautious inquiries and the wonderful amount of street, saloon, and
hotel talk which the affair was causing, I also ascertained that Mrs.
Winslow had made her appearance in Rochester some years before; some
said from the east, and some from the West, but the preponderance of
evidence indicated that it had been from the West; that she had at once
allied herself with the spiritualists of the city, and Lyon had first
met or seen her at one of their seances or lectures; that he had at once
yielded to her charms, and begun visiting her for "advice," as it was
sarcastically reported, continuing the visits with such frequency and
regularity as to hasten the death of his wife, after which event he had
given his new affinity nearly his entire attention until she had come to
be commonly considered as his mistress; that she had frequently boasted
among her friends that she was to become Lyon's wife, and was even by
some called Mrs. Lyon, to which pleasant designation she made no murmur;
that she had made a common practice of visiting Lyon at his offices in
the Arcade, where she had been treated with considerable deference and
respect by his employees; and that during this period Mrs. Winslow had
made several trips to the West, evidently at Lyon's instigation, and
through his financial aid.

I found also that she was as truly a believer in the farces others of
her profession enacted for her benefit as she was in the mediumistic
power she had persuaded herself that she possessed, and was consequently
a regular attendant at all the meetings and seances held in the city;
and as there was one to be held that evening at Washington Hall, I
decided to attend for the purpose of getting a good view of the lady
with whom, for a time, we should be obliged to keep close company.
Accordingly, at half-past seven o'clock I found the hall, which is but a
few blocks above the bridge on Main Street, and after purchasing a
ticket of a sleek, long-haired individual with deft fingers and a
restless eye, passed into the room, where there was already quite a
number of the faithful, all bearing unmistakable evidences of either
their peculiar faith, or the character of their business.

As the exercises of the evening had not yet begun, those present were
gathered about the hall excitedly discussing the great sensation of the
hour, which was particularly interesting to them, as the parties to it
were both of their number, and from what I could gather they were about
evenly divided in their opinion as to the merits of the case--the male
portion of the assemblage warmly espousing the cause of Mrs. Winslow,
and the female portion as eagerly sympathizing with "poor dear Mr.
Lyon," and roundly condemning the naughty woman who had ensnared him and
was so relentlessly pursuing him.

I was sure the naughty woman had now arrived, as there was a sudden
twisting of necks and buzzing of "That's her--that's her!" "There's Mrs.
Winslow!" and "Yes, that's Mrs. Lyon!" and the females that had given
Mrs. Winslow such a bad reputation a few moments before, now pressed
around her with sympathizing inquiries and loud protestations of regard,
quite like other ladies under similar circumstances. But the lady
appeared to be quite unconcerned as to their good or ill feeling towards
her, and swept up the aisle with a regal air, taking a seat so near me
and in such a position that I was able to make a perfect study of her
while apparently only absorbed in the wonderful revelation that fell
from the trance-speaker's lips.

She appeared to be a lady of about thirty five years of age, and of a
very commanding appearance. She was not a beautiful woman, but there was
an indescribable something about her entire face and figure that was
strangely attractive. It was both the dignity of self-conscious power
and the peculiar attractiveness of a majestically formed woman. It could
not be said that there was a single beautiful feature about her face,
though it attracted and held every observer. Her head was large, well
formed, and covered with a wavy mass of black hair marvelous in its
richness of color and luxuriance. Her complexion was a clear, wax-like
white, singularly contrasting with her hair, delicately arching
eyebrows, and long, dark lashes, which heavily shaded great gray eyes
that were sometimes touched with a shading of blue, and occasionally
glowed with a light as keen, glittering, and cold as might flash from a
diamond or a dagger's point, which seemed to work in sympathy with the
rapid movement of her thin nostrils, and the swift shuttles of crimson
and paleness that darted over her curled upper lip, which,
notwithstanding this singularity, touched the full, pouting lower one
with a hint of wild and riotous blood.

Although Mrs. Winslow was a woman who, being met in the better circles
of society, would have wonderfully interested every one with whom she
came in contact, in the circle within which she moved, and which,
unconsciously, seemed to be far beneath her, she surely commanded a
certain kind of respect, with a touch of fear, perhaps; and in any
circle of life was undoubtedly one in whom the ambition for power was
only equalled by the remorseless way with which she would wield it after
it had been gained.

Not once during the whole evening did she by any movement of her person
or motion of her features give any further indication of her character;
and I could only leave the hall and return to my hotel, and from thence
immediately to New York, with the thorough conviction that Mrs. Winslow
was a remarkably shrewd woman; had systematically fastened herself upon
Lyon with the view of becoming his wife, or compelling him to divide his
immense wealth with her; would give us plenty to attend to, and had
easily gained a wonderful power over Lyon; which, even after her
repeated piracies upon him, and the evident knowledge he possessed of
her villainous character, was yet strong upon him.




CHAPTER IX.

   "Our Case."-- Harcout's Egotism and Interference.-- The
      strange Chain of Evidence.-- A Trail of Spiritualism,
      Lust, and Licentiousness.-- Superintendent Bangs locates
      the Detectives.-- A pernicious System.-- Three Old Maids
      named Grim.-- Mr. Bangs baffled by Mr. Lyon, who won't be
      "worried."-- One Honest Spiritualistic Doctor.-- The Trail
      secured.-- A Tigress.-- Mr. Bangs "goes West."


On my return to New York I found that the splendid Harcout had been
using the interim in a succession of heated rushes from the St. Nicholas
Hotel to the Agency, where he had given my superintendents and clerks
voluminous instructions as to how the investigation should be conducted,
and, in explaining his idea of how detectives should work up any case,
permeated the entire establishment with his fragrant pomposity. He was
also quite impatient that nothing had been done in "our case," as he
termed it, and I could only pacify him by assuring him that it should be
given my immediate attention.

As soon as I could dispose of Harcout I held another consultation with
my General Superintendent, during which the information I had secured at
Rochester was analyzed and recorded, and which, with some other facts
already in possession of the Agency bearing on the case, we decided to
be sufficient to warrant a conclusion that Mrs. Winslow was not Mrs.
Winslow at all, but somebody else altogether, and had had as many
_aliases_ as a cat is supposed to have lives. It was also quite evident,
the more we looked into the matter and searched the records, that
certain other cities of the country had suffered from the much-named
Mrs. Winslow, and in many instances in a quite similar manner to that of
the Rochester infliction.

Running through all the strange chain of evidence that the records of
our almost numberless operations gave, there were also found items which
told of a female not altogether unlike Mrs. Winslow, and there were in
them all traces of a woman absolutely heartless, cold, calculating,
cruel; now here under one name and in one guise, now there under another
name and in another guise, but forever upon that unrelenting search for
power and with that remorseless greed for gold, and also showing as
truly a trace of spiritualism, of lust, and of licentiousness.

Of course the result of it all was only a question of time; only a
question of duration in villainy and shrewd human deviltry; a mere
question of how long supreme depravity would wear in a constant war upon
fairness, purity, and the conscience of society. It never wins--it
always loses, and, as certain as life or death, good or evil, reaches
its sure punishment here, whatever may be the result in that
undiscovered territory of the future which the preachers find happiness
and good incomes in quarrelling over. But as my long experience with
crime and criminals had proven to me the fact that one desperately bad
woman brings upon society vastly more misery than a hundred equally as
bad men, and being equally as certain that Mrs. Winslow was an
exceptionally bad woman, I felt no regret whatever in becoming her
Nemesis, and even experienced a peculiar degree of satisfaction in
inaugurating a crusade against her as a pitiless, heartless, dangerous
woman, utterly devoid of conscience, and without a single redeeming
trait of character.

I accordingly detailed two of my operatives, Fox and Bristol, to proceed
to Rochester in charge of Superintendent Bangs, whom I gave instructions
to locate the men so that they could keep Mrs. Winslow under the
strictest surveillance, and make daily reports in writing to me
concerning her habits and associates, and operations of any character
whatever, using the telegraph freely if occasion required. I also
instructed him, after the men were located in Rochester, and he had
followed up the clue I had got for him as to Mrs. Winslow's western
exploits, to proceed to the West, taking all the time necessary, and
ascertain everything possible favorable or unfavorable to the woman; as
I held it to be not only a matter of utmost importance to thorough
detective work, but also a principle of common justice, that any
suspected person should receive the benefit of whatever good there is in
them.

For these reasons I have always fought against the system of rewards for
the capture and conviction of supposed criminals. There could be nothing
more absolutely unjust. Under that system, through a combination of
circumstances, an innocent party is often deemed guilty of crime, and
the detective, anxious to secure professional honor and large
remuneration for small work, begins with the presumption of guilt, and
industriously piles up a mountain of presumptive and circumstantial
evidence that times without number has sent innocent persons to the
felon's cell or the hangman's noose.

On arriving at Rochester the following Monday, Bangs took rooms at the
National Hotel, opposite the court-house--a house more a resort for
persons in attendance at the courts, and people visiting Rochester from
neighboring towns, than for fashionable people or commercial travellers;
while Fox settled himself at a little hotel nearly opposite Mrs.
Winslow's rooms on South St. Paul street, and Bristol found a home at a
little saloon, restaurant and boarding-house, kept by three old maids
named Grim, who were firm believers in Spiritualism--probably from never
having got any satisfaction out of life from any other religion--under
Washington Hall, on East Main street, a place given up to variety shows,
masked balls, sleight-of-hand performances, seances, and other
questionable entertainments; so that they were all within easy
communication, and could work to advantage. It was also arranged that
the reports of Fox and Bristol should be put in Mr. Bangs's hands, by a
mode of communication which would prevent their being seen together,
before being forwarded to me, so that their observations might be of
assistance in his securing necessary information for his western tour.

While Bristol and Fox were watching the movements of the gay madam,
familiarizing themselves with the city, and getting on an easy footing
at their boarding-houses, Mr. Bangs set to work to ascertain if possible
in what part of the West Mrs. Winslow had operated.

He first visited Mr. Lyon at his office in the Arcade, introducing
himself as Mr. Clement, one of my operatives, not giving his correct
name, as the newspaper reporters were flying around at a great rate for
items, and the appearance of a man so well known by reputation as Mr.
Bangs would have given their overcharged imaginations an opportunity to
flood over several columns of their respective papers. After being
seated in Lyon's private office Mr. Bangs, as Mr. Clement, began the
conversation:

"Mr. Lyon, I am directed by Mr. Pinkerton to ascertain if possible from
you whether Mrs. Winslow has ever informed you of having at any previous
time resided in the West?"

Lyon gave Bangs a cigar, lighted one for himself, and after puffing away
vigorously for a little time, replied: "Mr. Clement, I think she has
done so, but I can't recollect what the information was."

"Couldn't you call to mind anything that would be of some little
assistance to us, Mr. Lyon?"

"No," he nervously answered; "no, I think not. I have put this whole
matter away from me as much as possible."

"We have positively ascertained," continued Bangs, looking searchingly
into Lyon's face, "that she recently secured a divorce from a former
husband. We also know that some one here in Rochester rendered her
substantial assistance. That person found, tracing her history would be
comparatively an easy matter."

Lyon moved about uneasily, and finally through the clouds of smoke about
his head puffed out, "Indeed!"

"Yes," replied Bangs, "and, Mr. Lyon, if we could get at the exact truth
about this part of it, I am sure it would not only greatly facilitate
our work, but also greatly lessen the expense of the operation."

Lyon sat for a little time twisting his shaggy gray whiskers, and
finally said: "Mr. Clement, I insist on not being worried about this
business; perhaps Harcout didn't make that point quite clear. Harcout
_is_ a little flighty, but a noble fellow though, after all. I don't
hardly know what I would do without Harcout, Mr. Clement; he takes the
whole thing off my shoulders, as it were."

Bangs saw that Lyon could have given him just what information he
needed, and also saw with equal certainty that he had fully decided to
throw the matter off his mind entirely, and compel us to gain whatever
necessary by hard work. He was also now satisfied of the truth of my
conviction, that Lyon had assisted Mrs. Winslow in this divorce matter,
and had been very much more intimate with her than he even desired us to
know. So he bade him good-day, returned to his hotel, and telegraphed
for instructions. I directed him to go ahead and use his own judgment
altogether, also suggesting that he should visit the different
clairvoyants and mediums, with a view of getting further information
which might be secured from their almost ceaseless chatter upon the
subject.

As Rochester is as full of mediums as a thistle of thorns, this was a
kind of investigation which necessitated the expenditure of considerable
time, and three days had elapsed before any information of a
satisfactory nature was secured. He had expended quite a little fortune
in having his "horoscope cast," his fortune told, and his fate pointed
out with such unerring certainty by male and female seers of every name,
appearance and nature, that if any two of these predictions had borne
the slightest possible resemblance to each other, he would have been
horrified enough to have taken a last leap into the surging Genesee like
poor Sam Patch. But he persisted in the face of these terrible
revelations until he had found a certain Dr. Hubbard, who proved to be
one of the jolliest of the profession he had ever met. The Doctor was a
pleasant gentleman, and proved more pleasant than ever when Mr. Bangs
informed him that he did not desire any fortune-telling, predictions or
horoscopes, but was interested in the subject of Spiritualism, and had
been directed to him as one likely to give some information that could
be relied on, for which he would liberally remunerate him.

As Mr. Bangs had some choice cigars, which he divided with the Doctor,
and the Doctor had some choice brandy, which he divided with Mr. Bangs,
they at once became easy together, and taking seats at the window
overlooking Main street, while watching the crowds below, were soon
chatting away quite unlike two people very badly affected with
spiritualistic tendencies.

After a little time, however, the Doctor looked pretty sharply at Bangs,
and suddenly asked: "Well, who are you, anyhow?"

"Who am I?" returned Bangs smilingly, "well, to be frank, I am Professor
Owen, of the Indiana State University." Bangs never blushed at the libel
on the kind old man bearing that name and title, and continued, "It is
our vacation now, and I am travelling a little in the East investigating
this subject. My brother is an enthusiastic believer in it, but I wished
other testimony."

The Doctor seemed to think that the Professor took to the brandy and
cigars quite too familiarly for an educator, but the explanation
satisfied him, and he asked: "Professor, you want the whole truth, don't
you?"

"Nothing but the truth," responded Bangs.

Doctor Hubbard blew out a long series of rings and expressively followed
it with "Humbug!"

"It can't be possible," persisted Bangs.

"It oughtn't to be possible," urged the Doctor, "for a man of your
probable talent and position to be engaged in investigating what one
visit to any one of us should show to be the most infernal fraud ever
practised upon the public!" said the Doctor heatedly.

Bangs expressed himself as surprised beyond measure.

"Well," continued the Doctor earnestly, "you came to me like a man,
didn't you?"

Bangs assured him that he was quite right.

"And you came fair and square, without any ifs and ands, didn't you?"

"All of that," responded Bangs.

"And," continued the Doctor helping himself to the brandy, then excusing
himself and pushing it towards Bangs, who partook sparingly, "you didn't
want any fortune told, or predictions, or horoscopes, or any other
nonsense?"

"Exactly," said Bangs.

"And you said you'd pay me liberally for information, didn't you?"

"Yes, and I'll be as good as my word," replied the assumed professor.

"Well, then," continued the Doctor in a burst of good feeling, brandy
and honesty, "you see in me an unsuccessful physician, a disciple of
AEsculapius without followers. I graduated with high honors, hung out my
sign, sharpened my tools, moulded my pills, drank a toast to disease,
but waited in vain for patronage. As this became monotonous," continued
the Doctor, taking another pull at the brandy bottle, then wiping the
mouth and passing it to Mr. Bangs, who excused himself, "I glided into a
'specialist.' It required too much money to advertise, and the papers
slashed me villainously besides. _Then_ I became a Spiritualist--it's
the record of every one of us. You can see," and the Doctor waved his
hand towards the cosy appointments in a satisfied way, "I am pretty
comfortable now."

"Yes, quite comfortable," said Bangs, wondering what the Doctor was
driving at.

"So I am an enthusiastic Spiritualist," resumed the happy physician,
"for its profession has provided me with necessities, comforts, and even
luxuries."

"Do you really effect any of the marvellous cures you advertise?"

"Most assuredly," he replied.

"And may I ask how?" interrogated Mr. Bangs.

"In the good old-fashioned way--salts, senna, calomel, and the
blue-pill," said the Doctor, laughing heartily.

"And is not the aid of the spirits essential to your cures?"

"A belief, or _faith_, that such an agency is used, does the whole
thing, Professor."

"And is there no such thing?" persisted Bangs.

"Just as much of it as there is faith in it; no more and no less."

"Then the whole thing's a humbug, as you say?"

"Just as thoroughly as is that woman," said the Doctor stoutly, pointing
to Mrs. Winslow, who at that moment was seen in the street below, being
driven towards the suburbs in a neat phaeton.

Bangs, becoming suddenly interested, though repressing himself,
carelessly asked, "Who is she?"

Here the Doctor executed a grimace which might mean a good deal, or
nothing at all, and said tersely: "She's a bouncer; don't you know her?"

"No."

"Why, that's Mrs. Winslow, old Lyons' soothing syrup; and old Lyon's
one of the children--'teething,'" added the Doctor with a hearty laugh.
"But she's a tigress!"

Mr. Bangs leaned out of the window, took a good look at the tigress, and
then, as if endeavoring to recollect some former occurrence, said: "I
believe I have seen her somewhere before."

"Quite so, quite so; undoubtedly you have."

"And I think in the West, too," replied Mr. Bangs, trying hard to
remember, and handing the doctor a fresh cigar.

"Exactly--Chicago, St. Louis, Cincinnati, Louisville--everywhere, in
fact. One might call her a social floater, and not be far out of the way
either. She used to live at Terre Haute."

"Terre Haute? Why, of course! I knew I had seen her somewhere."

"Yes, she lived a few miles out, up the Wabash river, for years. Her
husband's name was Oxford, or Hosford, or something of the kind."

"Yes?" said Bangs.

"Yes," replied the Doctor; "I didn't know her personally, but I knew
_of_ her there. That's where she first went off the hook--and--and
became one of us."

"Is she a remarkable character?" asked Mr. Bangs.

"A remarkable character? Why, sir, she's a wonderful woman--a perfect
Satan. I wouldn't have her get after me," said the Doctor, shaking his
head protestingly "for ten thousand dollars! Why, sir, that woman has
ruined more men and broken up more families than you could count."

"And is _she_, too, a spiritualist?" asked Mr. Bangs.

"A spiritualist? Why, of course she is; and, what is more, I sometimes
think she really believes in her own mummeries."

"What has become of her family?" asked Bangs.

"Oh, gone to the devil, I presume, just like everybody she has had
anything to do with--just as old Lyon is certain to do, too."

"Then this Oxford or Hosford is not living at Terre Haute now?"

"Couldn't tell you that," replied the Doctor; and then, suddenly
returning to the subject and putting the brandy-bottle into a little
closet with a slam as footsteps were heard coming up the stairs, "can I
be of any further service to you?"

Mr. Bangs thought not, handed the good Doctor a five-dollar bill while
remarking that he would call again, both of which evidences of good
feeling pleased the latter immensely, and took his departure quite well
pleased with the result of his inquiries into the wonderful subject of
modern Spiritualism.




CHAPTER X.

   Rochester.-- A Profitable Field for Mrs. Winslow.-- Her
      sumptuous Apartments.-- The Detectives at Work.-- Mrs.
      Winslow's Cautiousness.-- Child-Training.-- Mysterious
      Drives.-- A dapper little Blond Gentleman.-- Two Birds
      with one Stone.-- A French Divinity.-- Le Compte.


While Superintendent Bangs is on his hunting expedition in the West, we
will follow the fortunes of Mrs. Winslow in the beautiful city of
Rochester.

There is hardly a city in the country better adapted for either the
pursuit of pleasure or wealth than Rochester. Everything combines to
make it so. It nestles in one of the most beautiful valleys in the
world, like the nest of a busy bird in a luxuriant meadow. There is the
sound of pleasant waters, the roar of a mighty cataract, the din of two
score busy mills, the music of the spindles, the cogs and the reels, the
clash and the clangor of the factories, the thunderings of the forges,
and the footfalls of a hundred thousand happy, contented people who have
wrung competence and even luxury from the hard hand of necessity and
toil.

From the summit of Mount Hope Observatory, an elevation of nearly five
hundred feet above the lake, there is a grand picture whereon the eye
may rest. At your feet, and to the north, lies the busy city with the
noble Genesee winding rapidly through it, lending its half-million
horse-power force to the needs of labor, then plunging a hundred feet
downwards, eddying and rushing onward, plunging and eddying again and
again, until it sobers into a steady current northward towards Ontario
through a deep, dark gorge, looking like an ugly serpent trailing to the
lower inland sea where can be seen the city of Charlotte, formerly
called Port Genesee, the port of Rochester, beyond which, on a clear
day, may be seen countless dreamy sails, and steamers with their
trailing plumes of smoke, and still beyond appears the dim outlines of
the far-off Canadian shore. To the east, as far as can be discerned,
lies a country of the nature of "openings"--beautiful groves of trees,
magnificent farms, with the almost palatial homes of the owners, who
have become rich from the legacies of their ancestors with the added
thrift of scores of fruitful years. Southward for a half hundred miles,
stretches the beautiful valley of the Genesee, dimpled by lesser valleys
and a hundred sparkling brooks, and dotted by field and forest and
numberless groups of half-hidden houses, with outbuildings full to
bursting with the fruitage of the fields; while to the west along the
lake are low ranges of sand-hills, and south of these extending nearly
to Lake Erie is a beautiful prairie country, while with a glass can be
traced the ghostly mist perpetually hovering above Niagara.

If this scene be inspiring to the looker-on, the intrinsic beauty of the
city, its unusual life, its fine public buildings, business houses, and
splendid private residences; its clean macadamized streets and broad,
brick walks, shaded with the trees of half a century's growth as in many
of the famous Southern cities; its numberless little parks or "places,"
owned in common by the proprietors of the handsome residences which
surround them, and filled with rare shrubs, flowers, beautiful fountains
and costly statuary; the vast _parterres_ of flowers in the suburbs,
sending in upon every summer wind an Arabian wealth of exquisite
fragrance; the large summer gardens, where beer and Gambrinus reign
supreme; the enticing promenades, and the splendid drives in every
direction from the city--would give any one not completely at war with
every pleasant thing in life a genuine inspiration of pleasure and a
more than ordinary thrill of enjoyment.

It is little wonder, then, that Mrs. Winslow found Rochester a
profitable field for operating in her peculiar double capacity of a
dashing adventuress and a trance medium. She found there not only men of
vast wealth, but of vast immorality, as is quite common all over the
world, and hundreds of firm believers in spiritualism, which was a
special peculiarity to Rochester. Among the first number there were many
who sought her for her charms of figure and manners, which were
certainly powerfully attractive, and which yielded her an elegant income
without positive public degradation, as no man of wealth and position
feels called upon to make known his own peccadilloes for the sake of
exposing the sharer of them, even though she be a dangerous woman; and
consequently there was only that universal verdict of evil against her
which society quite generally, and also quite correctly, pronounces on
forcibly circumstantial evidence.

Her apartments were elegant, and even sumptuous; and though there was a
quite general understanding of her character among the epicurean
gentlemen of the city, she held them aloof with such freezing dignity
that they seldom presumed upon her acquaintance, and were even possessed
of a certain respect for her unusually rare shrewdness in preserving her
reputation, such as it was; so that her rooms, so far as the public were
able to ascertain, were only frequented by those who believed her to be
able to allay their sufferings, or open the gates of the undiscovered
country to their anxious, yearning eyes.

A large amount of money had been paid her by Lyon to prevent a scandal.
The last sum was known to have been five thousand dollars, and it was
quite probable that if there had been an intimacy so ripe as to have
warranted the payment of this amount, still larger sums had doubtless
been expended in maturing so tender a relation. In any event it was
ascertained by Bristol and Fox that Mrs. Winslow had for some time been
living in elegance, though at the same time carefully, being given to no
particular excesses, and it was a matter for considerable speculation
whether she was now in the possession of much money or not.

Fox affected the quiet, well-bred gentleman, expended sufficient money
among the boarders to make them talkative, and even confidential, and
in this way learned a great deal about the madam's habits and
peculiarities that was afterwards useful, though of no particular moment
at that time; while Bristol, who was a florid, well-kept Canadian
gentleman of about forty-five years of age, of a literary and poetical
turn, and with an easy habit of falling into the manner and brogue of an
Englishman, Scotchman, or Irishman, made himself immensely popular with
the old maids under Washington Hall, who in turn were enamored with his
good physical parts and blarneying tongue, and were at any time ready to
confide to him all they knew, and, in fact, a great deal more; so that,
as he professed to be an ardent Spiritualist, he was enabled to become
well informed concerning the leading persons of that persuasion in the
city, of whom he forwarded a complete list, with something of a history
of each; and while not becoming known to or personally familiar with any
one of them--which would have destroyed his usefulness, he was yet able
to keep track of nearly all that was said or done within the charmed
circle; as after each lecture, or seance, the economically-built and
antiquated maidens would retire to a little snuggery behind the
restaurant, to which they would invite the sympathetic Bristol, who was
old enough to protect them from scandal, and then and there, while
easing their by no means ravishing forms of portions of their garments
preparatory to the night's virtuous repose, over strong toast and weak
tea would rattle on in such a bewildering way about the events of the
evening and the good or bad characteristics of the faithful, that
Bristol figuratively, if not in fact, sat at the feet of a trinity of
oracles.

His reports showed that while Mrs. Winslow was accepted among their
number without question, still there was but little known about her
previous history. I felt satisfied that this was true, and had only
stationed Bristol and Fox at Rochester for the purpose of keeping me
informed of her every movement, knowing well enough that after Bangs had
got a good start he would follow up her trail in the West as
remorselessly as I myself would have done.

Mrs. Winslow seemed to be absolutely without associates, either from a
confirmed habit of suspicion of everybody which she seemed to possess,
or from a resolve to maintain as good a character as possible until the
Winslow-Lyon case should be heard in court, so that her evidence, and
particularly her reputation, might not be impeached or broken down; and
it required the constant attention of both Bristol and Fox to discover
in her anything of even a suspicious character, as the nature of her
mediumistic business--allowing as it did scores of visitors daily access
to her rooms, only one being admitted to the trance-room of her
apartments at a time--gave her a vast advantage over them.

It was evident that she had in a measure persuaded herself that she had
a genuine cause of action against Lyon; or, that if she had not, she had
fully determined to make a big fight under any circumstances, as both
the prestige secured by the presumption of some shadow of a claim which
the mere pressing of it in court would give, and the assistance to her
which even a tithe of the damages she claimed would be, would not only
give her a degree of importance and respectability which would greatly
assist her in future operations, but would also yield her the means for
future comfort, without this terrible continued struggle for gold and
the happiness it is supposed to command.

How vain such a hope! and how strange that, with the bitter reminder of
countless never-realized ambitions before them, the adventurer and the
criminal will go on and on, still clinging to the shadow of a hope that
by _some_ exceptional freak of fortune in their favor they may gain the
peace and quietness they so agonizedly long for, but which is just as
irrevocably decreed to be forever beyond their reach as were the
luscious fruits to escape the touch and taste of the condemned and
tortured Phrygian king.

And right here, were I a preacher--being only a _doer_, however--I would
show the criminal neglect of parents, teachers and preachers in forever
warring for reformation, and never battling against the numberless packs
of little foxes of pride and covetousness of society, which drive weak
natures into a constant struggle to excel in power and display, eating
away at the vines until the life, like the fields, is left barren and
desolate, or is only a vast waste of thorns and noxious weeds. My
records are full of lives wrecked upon the glittering rocks built by
false pride and vanity and the greed for gold which society, and even
the aristocratic systems of modern religion compel. Whatever may be
preached, all this cursed assumption of what is not possessed without
years of honest, sturdy toil, is practised in the pulpit, the pew, the
palace, and the poverty-stricken hovel, permeating every stratum of
business, society and religion, until honorable action is at discount,
dishonesty commands a premium of gain and lachrymose sympathy, and the
whole world is being swiftly driven into a surging channel of fraud,
crime and debauchery that will require generations of something besides
splendid hypocrisy and luxurious cant to restrain and purify.

With this digression, which I cannot well avoid, as it contains the
convictions based upon long years of close observation and peculiar
experience, I will return to the woman whom my operatives found so
difficult to analyze and trace out.

Bangs's visit to Dr. Hubbard showed that she had a habit of driving out.
Bristol and Fox became acquainted with this fact at once and transmitted
it in their reports. It appeared that the carriage and driver were
secured at a livery stable near the opera house, a short distance from
her rooms and Fox's boarding-house. I instructed Fox to ascertain to
what points these trips were made, and if any one ever accompanied her.
Careful inquiries at this stable elicited nothing, as Mrs. Winslow's
custom was valuable, and even her driver proved close-mouthed upon the
subject. Accordingly, after Fox had discovered the general direction
taken by Mrs. Winslow and the usual streets frequented at starting, he
strolled out State Street and from thence into Lake View Avenue, which
is but a continuation of State Street. After he had walked some little
distance he was pleased to find that he had company in the person of a
dapper little blond gentleman who was somewhat in advance of him, but
who, though apparently enjoying the morning air, seemed both
apprehensive of being followed, and desirous of the appearance of some
one for whom he was waiting. His make-up gave him something of a foreign
air, and was the most exquisite imaginable. He was a slender, tender
nymph of the male order of fairies, with a face as delicate as a
woman's, with large, blue, expressive eyes, long, luxuriant hair, and as
neat a little moustache as was ever waxed to keep it from melting away
altogether. If his face and figure were neat enough for a millinery
window, his clothing was a model even for a Poole. His lustrous silk hat
scarcely outshone in richness his faultless dress-coat, which was
buttoned low, exposing a perfect duck vest, a spotless shirt-front and a
low, rolling Byron collar, with a delicate flowing tie; while his
pantaloons, which were of a mellow lavender color, seemed only to
increase the effect of his shapely legs, and by their graceful swell at
the instep only to stop to disclose a foot perfect enough for a model.
His jewelry consisted of a modest solitaire diamond pin, and a large
seal ring which he wore upon the little finger of his left hand.

For some reason Fox felt interested in him, and resolved, though
looking for a quite different person, to watch him closely. So he passed
him without giving him an opportunity of seeing his face, and, taking a
position in the bar-room of a small beer-garden a little way beyond,
where he had a good view of the avenue, waited for developments which
were not long in taking place, as the neat little fellow arrived at the
garden a few minutes after Fox, and shortly after Mrs. Winslow's
carriage was seen coming from the direction of the city. Fox saw that he
was bringing two birds down with one stone, and anxiously watched Mrs.
Winslow and the little <DW2>, feeling satisfied that their meeting at the
garden was pre-arranged, for as soon as her carriage came in sight, he
had noticed a look of satisfaction come over the man's face, and when it
was driven up to the door he stepped out nimbly, smiling and bowing like
a brisk wax figure at a show.

The driver was at once discharged, and after watering the horse,
immediately started towards town on foot, occasionally looking over his
shoulder with a sardonic smile on his face, as if pleased at the loving
meeting at the garden, as that sort of thing probably brought him many
an honest penny; but no sooner had the driver turned his back on the
place than Mrs. Winslow said:

"Come, Le Compte, get me a glass of brandy."

Fox thought that pretty strong for a lady who had been damaged a hundred
thousand dollars by breach of promise of marriage, but held his peace,
and a paper before his face, while her admirer danced into the bar and
procured two glasses of brandy, which he took to the carriage upon a
little tray.

"My dear, you were a little late, eh?" said Le Compte.

"Ah, a French divinity," thought Fox.

"Le Compte," replied Mrs. Winslow, handing him a bill with which to pay
for the refreshment, and paying no attention to the little fellow's
remark, "tell that d----d Dutchman that if he don't get some better
brandy, I'll never pay him another penny!"

Fox also thought this pretty strong for the pure, broken-hearted maiden
Mrs. Winslow's bill of complaint against Lyon showed her to be, and he
accordingly made a note of the same, as her friend returned to the
bar-room and paid for the liquor, while saying to the landlord that the
madam desired him to say that the brandy was perfectly exquisite in
flavor.

Presently Mrs. Winslow called out, "Come, Le Compte, get in here!" when
he ran out with the alacrity of a carriage spaniel, sprang into the
carriage, took the reins, and drove away towards the country, looking
like a pretty daisy in the shade of a gigantic sunflower.




CHAPTER XI.

   The Half-way House.-- A Jolly German Landlord.-- Detective
      Fox runs down Le Compte.-- A "Positive, Prophetic, Healing
      and Trance Medium."-- Harcout the Adviser reappears, and
      is anxious lest Mr. Lyon be drawn into some terrible
      Confession.-- Mr. Pinkerton decides to know more about Le
      Compte.-- And with the harassed Mr. Lyon interviews him.--
      Treachery and Blackmail.-- "A much untractable Man."--
      Light shines upon Mrs. Winslow.-- Another Man.-- Mr.
      Pinkerton mad.


Many other conveyances were passing to and fro, and Fox's first impulse
was to secure a seat in some one of them and follow the couple in the
direction they had taken. But he recollected that it might cause either
Mrs. Winslow, or the little fellow at her side to know him again, which
would prove disastrous, and he was consequently obliged to apply his
pump to the important little Dutchman who owned the half-way house, and
who was busying himself around the cool, pleasant bar-room, making the
place as attractive as possible, and singing lustily in his own
mother-tongue.

"Good morning to you!" said Fox cheerily, stepping to the bar in a way
that indicated his desire to imbibe.

"Good mornings mit yourself," answered the lively proprietor, getting
behind the bar nimbly; "Beer?"

"Yes, thank you," replied Fox, "a schnit, if you please. Won't you
drink with me?"

"Oh, ya, ya; I dank you; I dank you;" and there were as many smiles on
his honest face as bubbles upon his good beer.

The glasses touched, Fox said, "Here's luck!" and the landlord met it
with "Best resbects, mister!"

In good time two more schnits followed, and as the landlord was each
time requested to join with Fox, he was so pleased with his liberality
and apparent good feeling that he beamed all over like a sunny day in
June.

"You have a beautiful place here," said Fox.

"Oh, so, so!" answered the landlord with a quick, deprecatory shrug
which meant that he was very well satisfied with it.

"I was never here before."

"No?--So? I guess mebby I don't ever have seen you. Don't you leef py
Rochester?--no?"

"No, I live in Buffalo, and I just came over to Rochester on a little
business. Having plenty of time, I thought I would stroll out a bit this
morning."

"Ya, I get a good many strollers dot same way. Eferypody goes out by der
Bort."

"The Bort?"

"Ya, ya, der Bort--Bort Charlotte."

"Is this the way to Charlotte?"

"To be certainly. When you come five miles auf, den you stand by der
Bort, sure."

"And so that is where the big woman and the little man were going?"
asked Fox carelessly.

"Sure, sure," said the landlord with a knowing wink; and then taking a
very large pinch of snuff, and laying his forefinger the whole length of
his rosy nose, added with an air of great importance and mystery, "I
tell you, py Jupiter, I don't let somebody got rooms _here_!"

"That's right, old fellow!" said Fox, slapping the honest beer-vender on
the shoulder. "Be unhappy and you will be virtuous!"

"Vell," continued the Teuton, excitedly lapsing into his own vernacular,
"_es macht keinen unterschied_; I don't got mein leefing dot way. I--I
vould pe a bolitician first!"

Fox expressed his admiration for such heroism, and purchased a cigar to
assist the landlord in his efforts to avoid the necessity of either
renting rooms to ladies and gentlemen of Mrs. Winslow's and Le Compte's
standing, or of accepting the more unfortunate emergency of becoming a
"bolitician."

Then they both seated themselves outside the house, underneath the
shaded porch, and chatted away about current events, Fox all the time
directing the conversation in a manner so as to draw out the genial
Teuton on the subject which most interested him, and was successful to
the extent of learning that Le Compte was what the landlord termed a
"luffer," evidently meaning a loafer; that several months before, they
came there together desiring a room, which had been refused; but he had
directed them to the Port, where they had evidently been accommodated,
as they had after that, until this time, regularly went in that
direction, always stopping at his place for a glass of his best brandy;
and that they had also always came there together until within a few
weeks, since when, for some reason, this Le Compte had walked out to the
hotel, where she had overtaken him with her carriage and driver, when
the driver would be sent back to the city, and Le Compte taken in for
the drive to Charlotte, as Fox had seen. He also learned that on their
return, which was generally towards evening, the driver met them at the
same place, when the latter took the reins, and Le Compte, somewhat
soiled from his trip, walked into the city.

Fox concluded that there would be no better time than the present to
learn something further concerning Le Compte, and after enjoying himself
in the vicinity for a short time, came back to the hotel, took a hearty
German dinner, and after another stroll secured a room for a short nap,
as he told the landlord, but really for the purpose of observation.
About six o'clock he saw the driver coming to the hotel from towards
Rochester, and in about a half an hour afterwards noticed the carriage
containing Mrs. Winslow and Le Compte coming down the road from
Charlotte. The couple seemed very gay and lively, and drove up to the
hotel with considerable dash and spirit. They both drank, as in the
morning, while the driver resumed his old place by the side of Mrs.
Winslow; and as they were about to depart, Fox heard the woman say to
Le Compte: "No, not again until Saturday; I'll try to be a little
earlier." Then the carriage went away, Le Compte loitering about for a
few minutes, after which he started off on a brisk walk towards town.

As the evening was drawing on, Fox hurried down to the bar-room, paid
his bill, and bidding his host good-by, trudged on after the little
fellow, keeping him well in sight, though remaining some distance behind
to escape observation, but gradually closing in upon him, until, when
they had arrived within the thickly settled portion of the city, they
were trudging along quite convenient to each other.

The lamps now began to flare out upon the town, and the gay shops were
lighted as Fox followed his man in and out, up and down the streets. Le
Compte first went to a restaurant just beyond the Arcade in Mill street,
where he got his supper, and afterwards promenaded about the streets in
an aimless sort of a way for some little time, after which he returned
to the Arcade and seemingly anxiously inquired for letters at the
post-office. He got several, but was evidently either disappointed at
what he had received, or at not receiving what he had expected. In any
event he cautiously peered into Lyon's closed offices, as if hoping to
find some one there. Disappointed in this also, he went directly to
State Street, near Main, where, after looking about for a moment, he
suddenly disappeared up a stairway leading to the upper stories of a
large brick block. Fox quickly followed, and was able to catch sight of
the little fellow just as he was entering a room at the side of the
hall. He waited until everything was quiet, and then approached the
door. The light from the single jet in the hallway was not sufficient
for the purpose, but with the aid of a lighted match he was able to
trace upon a neat card tacked to the door the inscription:

                B. JEROME LE COMPTE,
   POSITIVE, PROPHETIC, HEALING AND TRANCE MEDIUM.
  Psychrometrist, Clairvoyant, and Mineral Locater.

As Fox had succeeded in "locating" his man, he returned to his
boarding-house, wrote out his report and posted it, and after carelessly
dropping into the restaurant under Washington Hall, where he took a dish
of ice-cream and found means to inform Bristol of the latest
development, he returned and retired for the night well satisfied with
his day's work, and fully resolved to be on hand for Saturday's sport at
Charlotte.

I received Fox's report the next noon, and not a half-hour afterwards
the splendid Harcout came rushing in.

"Pinkerton, Pinkerton," he exclaimed excitedly, "here's something which
we must attend to at once--at once, mind you, or--bless my soul! I'm
afraid I left it at the St. Nicholas. How could I be so careless!"

Harcout grew red in the face and plunged into all his pockets wildly,
utterly regardless of his exquisite make-up, until quite exhausted.

"Why, Harcout, you're excited. Tell me what's the matter, my man," said
I, reassuringly.

"Matter? matter? everything's the matter. Here's something which should
be acted upon at once, and like an ass I've left it at the hotel. I'll
go back and get it immediately."

"Get what?" I asked him.

"Get a letter that I just received from Lyon. He's there all by himself,
and they will draw him into some terrible confession. But I--I must get
the letter," and Harcout grabbed his hat and gloves and started.

"Hold on, Harcout," I called to him, "what is that you have in your
hand?"

"In my hand? Oh, just a private note I got in the same mail."

"Just look at it before you go," I suggested.

Harcout stopped in the door, examined the letter, pulled another from
the inside of the envelope, and blurted out sheepishly: "Ah, bless my
soul!--Pinkerton, this is just what I wanted. Here, quick, read them
both."

I took the letters as Harcout sat down and fanned himself with his
glove, and saw that they were dated from Rochester on the previous day.
The first one was from Lyon, in which he stated that he had received the
enclosed letter in the morning, probably shortly after Fox had strolled
out Lake View Avenue, also expressing a desire that Harcout should
submit it to me for advice as to the best course to be pursued, and have
the reply telegraphed. The enclosed letter was from Le Compte to Lyon,
insisting that he should immediately come to his rooms to receive
information of the greatest importance. I did not let Harcout know that
I had any information concerning Le Compte, but I saw that that portion
of Fox's report which stated that he had followed Le Compte to the
Arcade the previous evening, where the latter had anxiously inquired for
mail, and after that had taken a peep into Lyon's offices, agreed with
Lyon's letter as to the time when Le Compte probably expected an answer
from him.

I was at loss to know what the dapper little fellow was driving
at--whether he and Mrs. Winslow were after further blackmail, or whether
he had secured some confession from her while she was lavishing her
favors and money upon him, which the treacherous little villain was
endeavoring to make bring a good price through Lyon's superstitious
faith in the power of those who claimed supernatural powers and a
profession of Spiritualism.

I at once decided to go to Rochester and interview this new apparition
in the field in company with Lyon, and accordingly told Harcout that I
would do so, and would immediately telegraph to Lyon to that effect;
upon which he trotted away, announcing his determination to also
telegraph, so that Lyon might see that he was "attending closely to our
case," as he termed it.

As soon as he had left, I indicted a dispatch to Lyon, asking him to
make an appointment with Le Compte for an interview on the next
afternoon, when I would be there to accompany him; and after getting my
supper, took the evening train and arrived at Rochester the next noon.

After taking dinner at the Waverley, I immediately proceeded to Lyon's
offices. He seemed worried and anxious to see me, and felt extremely
alarmed about the whole matter, having as yet kept it from his attorney.
I had him send a message for him at once, and in a few minutes we were
all three in consultation. His attorney, a Mr. Balingal, thought we were
doing just right, and, on leaving, privately informed me that in no
event should I allow any person that professed mediumistic powers to
remain with Lyon alone, as he would be certain to do something which
would in some way compromise the case.

A few minutes after Lyon's attorney had left, we took different routes,
arriving at the hallway leading to Le Compte's rooms on State street at
about the same time, ascending the staircase together. A <DW64>, who had
borne a second and a more imperative message to Lyon, was in waiting at
the top, and smilingly showed us along the hall in the direction of
Number 28, which afterwards proved to be Le Compte's seance-room. The
little fellow himself here stepped out of an adjoining room with a very
insinuating smile upon his face, which suddenly changed to a look of
disappointment as he saw that Mr. Lyon had rather solidly-built company.

As Mr. Lyon entered the room, this Monsieur Le Compte undertook to close
the door in my face; but I shoved myself into the room, and told the
mineral locater, etc., that I was a friend of Mr. Lyon's, and insisted
on being one of the party.

Lyon began timidly looking around the gas lighted room--though it was
not after three o'clock--which was filled with the ordinary
paraphernalia for compelling awe and fear: "I understand you have some
business with me. My name is Lyon."

"Yes, yes," he replied, "I have great business with you. But I can only
make you my _one_ confidant, Mr. Lyon."

"Oh, well, well, now," I interrupted, with some assumed bravado, "this
sort of thing better play out before it begins. I am Mr. Lyon's friend,
and whatever you have to say to him will have to be said before me.
Isn't that so, Mr. Lyon?"

Lyon assented feebly, and Le Compte asked: "Will you make me the
pleasure of your friend's name?"

"No matter, no matter," said I quickly, for I knew how weak Lyon was. "I
am here as my friend's friend. He has nothing to say in this matter. You
will have to inform me of your business with Mr. Lyon."

Le Compte suddenly arose from his chair, locked the door and put the key
in his pocket. He then went to the windows, which were slightly raised
on account of the heat, closed them, and lowered the curtains so as to
shut out the light completely. Just as he had completed the work, which
took him but a moment, I said to him sharply: "See here, sir, you will
make this room uncomfortably warm for yourself as well as us, if you are
not careful. Don't send us to perdition before our time, Le Compte."

He made no answer, and looked exceedingly meek; but I saw that he was
determined to endeavor to play upon Lyon's feelings for future profit,
even if the present interview offered none. He immediately seated
himself at a table opposite us, and said to Lyon: "The clairvoyant state
I will go into before anything I can reveal."

"Mr. Le Compte," I interrupted, noticing that Lyon was already weakening
before the scoundrel's assumption, "if you have got anything to say to
Mr. Lyon, go on and say it with your eyes open, like a man. We won't be
humbugged by you or any one else!"

He did go on now, and with his eyes open, and said: "Well, gentlemen, I
know of this lady who troubles Mr. Lyon, and learn of much witnesses for
his help. But the clairvoyant state gave it to me."

"No, no, my young fellow," said I, "we don't pay for that kind of
evidence. If you have any evidence in your possession which will be of
benefit to Mr. Lyon, I am prepared to receive and pay for it; but
clairvoyant evidence isn't worth a cent!"

"Well," he replied, somewhat ruffled, "I can go on the jury and swear
clearly of this!"

I then told him I was satisfied that he did not know the first
principles of law and evidence, and that the probability was that he had
no evidence in his possession at all. I spoke in a very loud tone of
voice, and evidently frightened the little fellow considerably.

"You are much intractable--a much intractable man," he responded. "I
could tell about you greatly to convince you of my power; but it is
impossible in double presence."

"All right," said I. "Mr. Lyon, I don't see as you have anything to do
with this interview, and I want you to go right back to your office and
remain there until I come!"

Lyon got up in a scared kind of way, and started hesitatingly towards
the door, looking appealingly at me; but I paid no attention to it, and
the little Frenchman instantly arose and politely showed him out, saying
in a low voice: "My dear Mr. Lyon, it will be for your great interest to
make appointment without the boor."

"Lyon will do nothing of the kind, you little villain," I said, as I saw
he was shrewdly arranging for future business. "The 'boor,' as you are
pleased to term me, has the whole charge of this business, and you will
transact it with him or nobody."

Le Compte flushed, closed the door without another word, locked it, and
put the key in his pocket.

I turned on him savagely with: "My friend, what do you mean? If you make
a single treacherous motion, you'll never get out of this room alive!"

I was now thoroughly mad, and am sure that the little jackanapes saw it
and felt that I might possibly serve him as he deserved, for he quickly
and tremblingly said, "Oh, if that is the case, I have no objection if
you the key hold; but in clairvoyant state we shall be alone and
locked."

There was a bed in the room, and I suggested that he looked flurried
and had better take a rest upon it while going on with his story; but he
seated himself at the opposite side of the table, and began putting his
hands upon his eyes and drawing them away with an indescribably
graceful, though rapid gesture. This he continued for some little time,
when he brought his hands down upon the table with considerable force.
Then he began the old humbug about my having had trouble with some one,
somewhere in the United States, at some time or other about something;
that there was another man of uncertain size, peculiar complexion,
unusual hair, singular face, and a strange, general appearance; and that
this difficulty was about money, he thought it would amount to from five
hundred to one thousand dollars, and that I would receive this sum
within a few weeks. As I said that this was absolutely true, he was
greatly encouraged, and went on for some time in an equally silly and
foolish manner. I stood it as long as I could, and finally said:

"See here, my friend, you and I must talk business!" upon which he was
wide awake and quite ready to enter into earthly conversation.

"Well, sir, what _could_ you want?"

"I want this nonsense stopped," I replied rising, at which he also
jumped up nimbly.

"Well," he said, "this woman"--evidently referring to Mrs. Winslow,
though no name had been mentioned--"once lived in Iowa with wrong
names!"

"Oh, nonsense!" I replied, "I know that already."

"But," he continued quickly, "I can furnish you the name of another
man--very rich, very rich he is, too--who should be by law more her
husband."

"Well," said I angrily, though now fully believing the little fellow for
the first time, "write this out fully; give me the man's name, business
or occupation; his place of residence, his standing, etc.; how he became
acquainted with this woman and under what circumstances they lived
together, and when and where; and when you give me the information, if I
find it reliable, I will pay liberally for it. If not, I won't pay you a
cent. Now, do we understand each other?"

"I think we do," he answered timidly.

"Le Compte," said I sternly, "there's no use of your practising this
clairvoyant game any longer. You won't get a dollar out of it; not a
dollar. I understand all about it as well as you do. Now, have a care
about yourself, sir, or one of these bright days you'll be coming up
with a sudden turn."

I now started towards the door; but the persistent scamp seemed anxious
to still keep me, on some manner of pretext, and stood holding the key
in a confused, undecided way.

"Open that door, you villain!" I demanded; "open it at once, or you'll
get into trouble."

He started suddenly, put the key in the lock, and then turned to me and
asked: "Won't you give me opportunity to show you I do not swindle. Just
let me make some few little passes over your head. I will sure put you
to sleep quickly!"

"I am not sleepy, nor do I need sleep now, thank you. I had a good nap
about an hour since," I answered, laughing at the little fellow's
annoyance. "Now open that door!"

Le Compte shrugged his handsome shoulders despairingly, unlocked the
door, and as I passed out of the no less than robber's den--though under
the guise of a mediumistic and spiritualistic blackmailing
headquarters--he said: "Well, sir, I will think of this statement a
great deal; but you are a very untractable man; a very untractable
man--what might I call your name?"

"Oh, anything you like, my little man!" I replied pleasantly; "but mind,
we won't have any more of this silly business. It won't pay, and you
will certainly get into trouble from it. You may send the statement to
George H. Bangs, at the post-office, by Monday noon, and if it is what
you represent it to be, and reliable, you will be paid for it; but you
may be very, very certain, Le Compte, that it will prove extremely
unprofitable to you if you attempt any more of this humbuggery upon Mr.
Lyon!"

With this admonition I left Le Compte's, and soon found Lyon in his
office. We arranged that he should pay no further attention to either Le
Compte's or any other person's communications concerning this case, but
should at once turn them over to his attorneys, who should immediately
forward them to me after reading them, as I was satisfied that if Le
Compte had any evidence he would never swear to it when the case was
tried, and only desired to blackmail Lyon on his own account, while
playing the necessary male friend and confidant to Mrs. Winslow, who for
some reason seemed to have a strange and unexplainable liking for the
little Monsieur, although exercising great care that her passion for him
should not become a matter for public knowledge and comment.




CHAPTER XII

   The Raven of the Detroit Cottage in another Character.-- Mrs.
      Winslow yearns for a retired Montreal Banker.-- Love's
      Rivalry.-- A mysterious Note.-- The Response.-- Another
      Trip to Port Charlotte by four Hearts that beat as one.--
      What Mr. Pinkerton, as one of the party, sees and hears.--
      "Jones of Rochester."-- Le Compte and Mrs. Winslow resolve
      to fly to Paris, "the magnificent, the beautiful, the
      sublime!"-- "My God, are they all that way?"


At last the promised Saturday came, and there were at least three people
in Rochester who looked forward to a pleasant day, and were up betimes
that they might get an early start. Mrs. Winslow, from her sumptuous
apartments, looked out upon the streets and the glorious morning as if
it had come too soon--as it always does to those who have not clean
hearts and clean lives--and, _en deshabille_, gazed down through her
rich lace curtains upon the early passers stepping off with a brisk
tread to their separate labors, with a look of contempt.

Nature had been wantonly generous with Mrs. Winslow, and as she stood
there in her loose morning robes, the first soft breaths that come with
the sun from the far-off Orient playing hide-and-seek among the
sumptuous hangings of her room, and giving just the least possible
motion to her matchlessly luxuriant black hair, while the mellow and
golden rays of the sun, which was just peeping over the roofs and the
chimneys, shimmered upon her through the curtains, lighting her great
gray eyes with a wondrous lustrousness, heightening the fine color of
her face, and giving to her voluptuous form an added grace--this utterly
lone woman had not in her heart an iota of tenderness for, or sympathy
with, the glories without, and was as dead to every good thing in life
as though carved from marble by some sculptor, as she really had been
carved from stone, or ice, by nature. As she stood there by the window,
regarding the passers with such a wise and ogreish air that Fox, behind
the blinds in his window opposite, could not but couple her in his
thoughts with some splendid beast of prey--if Mother Blake or the
voluble Rev. Bland could have seen her, the years that had passed would
have been swept away, and in the mature woman and the conscienceless
adventuress would have been recognized the raven of the Detroit cottage,
that, as Lilly Nettleton, in a habit that ravens have, glided
noiselessly about the other sumptuous apartments, gathering together
what pleased its fancy--not forgetting the money which was to have been
used in the cursed church interests, and a gold watch, which the raven
wore to this day--and then, kissing its beak to the heavily sleeping
man, for all the world like a raven, had passed out into the storm and
the night.

In a few moments she retired from the window, and after dressing passed
out upon the street, and went to the falls for a short walk and an
appetite, and then went to the Washington Hall restaurant, where she had
quite frequently taken her meals since she had incidentally learned
that Bristol was a retired Montreal banker, as gossip had it now among
the Spiritualists; and it was evident that persons of that grade of
recommendation were of peculiar interest to Mrs. Winslow. For hours of
dalliance, the aristocratic though impecunious popinjay, Le Compte,
would more than answer; but when it came to a matter of serious work,
and when a new source of income was to be sought, Mrs. Winslow, being a
shrewd and able professor of the art of fascination which secured her an
independent and elegant livelihood, in connection with her ability to
compel a large number of people to pay her for guessing at what had
befallen them and what might befall them, she invariably sought
gentlemen on the shady side of life, with judgment and discretion, who
knew a good thing when they saw it, and who were both able and willing
to carry their bank accounts into their aged knight-errantry.

Lyon was not a handsome man, but he had vast wealth. His weazen face,
his grizzly hair, his repulsive, tobacco-stained mouth, were naught
against him. His passion for her had brought her thousands upon
thousands of dollars--would bring her, she hoped, as much more. Here was
Bristol. He was not handsome, he was not a Canadian Adonis, he
incessantly smoked a very ugly pipe fully as old as himself. But he had
some way got the reputation of being "a retired Canadian banker" among
these people, and Mrs. Winslow's heart warmed towards him the way it had
towards a hundred others when she had wanted them to walk into her
parlor as the ancient spider had desired of the fly.

So she had begun weaving a shining web of loving looks, of tender
glances, of dreamy sighs, and of graceful manoeuvres of a general
character about the unsuspecting Bristol, that resulted in pecuniary
profit to the old maids, who, nevertheless, with the quick instinct of
three jealous women of economical build and mature years, had already
begun to hate her as a rival, and pour into Bristol's alert ears sad
tales about the splendid charmer, all of which were properly reported to
me by the "retired Montreal banker," who had suddenly found himself a
prize worthy to be sought for, and fought for, if necessary, by four
determined women, one of whom hungered for his supposed wealth, and
three of whom possessed the more desperate, life-long hunger whose
appeasing is worth a severe struggle.

After her breakfast, which, unfortunately, had not given her an
opportunity for bestowing a graceful nod or a winning smile upon
Bristol, whom the old maids had furnished a superb breakfast in his own
apartment, Mrs. Winslow returned to her rooms and seated herself at her
windows, where she read the morning paper for a little time. She then
disappeared from Fox's sight for a half-hour or so, when, just as he was
about leaving his watch at his window he noticed her descend the stairs,
and, after looking cautiously about for a moment, deposit a card behind
her own sign, which was attached to the frame of the outer doorway
leading to her rooms. As soon as she had retired, and before she could
have returned to her windows, Fox slipped down and out across the
street, and removing the card from its novel depository, saw written
upon it:

   "Le Compte:--Will be at the Garden with carriage at ten,
   prompt.

                                             "MRS. W."

Fox had no more than time to return the card to its place when he saw
the person to whom it was addressed turn into St. Paul street from East
Main. He accordingly got back to his old post as rapidly as possible,
and watched the young Frenchman saunter along towards the hallway as if
carelessly taking his morning walk. He was irreproachably dressed, as
usual, and was daintily smoking a cigarette with that inimitable grace
with only which a Frenchman or a Spaniard can smoke. After arriving at
the hallway, as if undecided whether he would go farther up the street
or not, he leaned carelessly against the sign, and in a moment had
deftly whipped the card out of its hiding-place. He then started up the
street saunteringly, and when about a half-block distant, read the card,
which seemed to give him much pleasure, as he smilingly wrote something
upon it, and after walking a short distance, turned suddenly and walked
rapidly back, dexterously depositing the card in its strange receptacle,
without scarcely varying his pace or direction, and quickly passed on to
Main street, turning down that thoroughfare.

Fox noticed that Mrs. Winslow had witnessed this incident from her
windows, and at the moment when her form had disappeared, he swiftly
stepped across the street and read the reply, which ran thus:

   "Your announcement makes pleasure in your lover's soul, and
   your name is saluted by the lips of

                                             "LE COMPTE."

Fox had just time to slip into a tobacconist's for a cigar when Mrs.
Winslow came down stairs, took the card out of its resting-place, and
after going down the street for some slight purchase, returned to her
rooms and prepared for the drive to Charlotte.

At half-past nine Mrs. Winslow's carriage arrived and in a few minutes
after she was leisurely riding down Main street, and from thence out
through State street and Lake View Avenue towards the Port. As I had
nothing to do until Monday's interview with Le Compte, and time hung
heavily upon my hands, I had decided to make one of the party.

I knew the direction Mrs. Winslow would take, and so securing a position
on the corner of Main and State streets, I had but a little time to wait
before I saw the gay madam pass, and also noticed Fox at an opposite
corner evidently making sure of her direction; for, as soon as he saw
her carriage turn down State street, he immediately started for the
depot, from which a train left for Charlotte at ten o'clock, so that he
could be at that place, under any circumstances, some time before the
happy and unsuspecting couple should have arrived.

At about train-time Fox bought a cigar and took a seat in the
smoking-car, while I purchased a cheap edition of one of Dickens's
stories and settled myself down in a ladies' car.

The trip to Charlotte was soon made through a beautiful country where
the farmers were busy stacking their grain, threshing, and, in some
instances, turning the black loam to the sun that it might early mellow
for the next year's seed-time, and in a half-hour we were at Charlotte,
where the beautiful lake is seen at one's feet, with its rippling waves
dotted here and there by a hundred dreamy sails and lazy steamers from
as many waiting ports.

Fox immediately made inquiries of the villagers where he could find the
road leading into Charlotte from Rochester, and started out towards it
from the depot at a brisk walk, while I waited until he had got well
under way, when I took a short stroll among the warehouses and shipping
of the harbor, and then went to the only hotel of any importance the
place contained, where I knew Mrs. Winslow and Le Compte would be likely
to stop, and engaged a room in the front part of the house, where I
resumed my story and waited, like Micawber, for "something to turn up."

I had been engaged at my book but a short time when I saw Fox come up
the street towards the hotel at a rapid pace, flushed and perspiring
freely as from a very long and rapid walk, and but a moment afterwards
also saw the dashing Rochester turnout whirling up to the hotel.

The arrival at the hotel of the couple bore out the truth of the
statement of the little Dutchman, contained in Fox's report of his trip
to the half-way house, as the habitues of the house seemed quite
accustomed to their presence and the employees stepped about nimbly, as
they generally do at hotels as a greeting to good customers, and they
generally do not when persons of common appearance arrive.

As good luck would have it, after a few moments had elapsed, "Mr. and
Mrs. Jones, of Rochester," as Fox saw they had registered, were ushered
into a room adjoining my own, and between which, as is quite common at
hotels, there was a door, which might be opened for the purpose of
throwing the rooms _en suite_, as occasion required.

Although I was prevented from seeing the couple, their voices, which
were both familiar to me, could not be mistaken; and I could not
restrain a smile as I listened to the little Frenchman's voluble and
peculiarly-constructed expressions of endearment, and the coarser, but
none the less tender, responses of the virtuous Mrs. Winslow, whose life
had been shattered, heart smashed to atoms, and good name defamed, by
the tyrant man in the person of the weak but wealthy Lyon, and to think
how much nearer I was to the quarry than Fox himself, who in this
instance was making noble efforts to bring down his game without
"flushing" it.

For the sake of the public whose servant I have been for the last thirty
years, I would blush to put on paper what I know to have occurred in the
adjoining room, and which only served to further convince me of the
depths of infamy to which she had sunk; and I will pass on to those
things only necessary to acquaint the reader with my plan of operation
to bring her into the public notoriety and scorn which she had years
before only too richly deserved.

But a short time had elapsed after Mrs. Winslow and Le Compte had been
given their room when I heard Fox's footsteps coming along the hall. He
passed their room slowly, evidently locating it, and after a few moments
stealthily returned and listened at the door. He then stole away, but
returned again with a bold, firm step, as though conscious of being on
legitimate business, walked right up to the door and gave the knob a
quick turn, as if he had intended to at once walk into the room.

The door did not open, however, and Fox stepped back as if surprised,
saying: "Why, I can't be mistaken; the register surely said Room 30!"
while within there were quick, though smothered exclamations of
surprise, fright, and rage of an unusually profane nature.

Fox immediately returned to the attack as if certain that he was in the
right, and knocked at the door sharply.

There was no response but the quick hustlings about the room, from which
I, as an attentive listener with my ear close to the key-hole, learned
that the inmates were preparing for discovery.

Fox knocked again, this time louder and more persistently than at first.

I now plainly heard Mrs. Winslow ordering Le Compte under the bed among
the dust, bandboxes, and unmentionables, at which he protested with
innumerable "_Sacres!_" But she was relentless, and finally, seeing that
he would go no other way, took him up like a recalcitrant cur and flung
him under bodily.

Again Fox attacked the door, shook the knob furiously, and knocked loud
enough to raise the dead, following it up with: "Say you?--Jones? Why in
thunder don't you open the door?"

At this Mrs. Winslow plucked up the courage of desperation, and asked in
a loud and injured voice, "Who's there?"

"Why, me, of course; Barker, Jones's partner. I want to see Jones!"

"What Jones do you want?" asked Mrs. Winslow, to get time to think
further what to do.

"Jones, of Rochester, of course," yelled Fox. "Two ship-loads of spoiled
grain's just come in; don't know what to do with 'em."

"Sink 'em!" responded Mrs. Winslow, breathing freer.

"Where's Jones?" persisted Fox, banging away at the door again.

"There's no Jones here, you fool!" answered the woman hotly.

"Yes there is, too," insisted Fox. "Landlord told me so."

"Well," parried the female, raising her voice again, "Jones ain't in the
wheat trade at all; he's a professor of music; and besides that, he
ain't in here, either."

"Oh, beg pardon, ma'am," said Fox apologetically, "It isn't your Jones
I want _this time_, then. Hope I haven't disturbed you, madam," and he
walked away, having clinched the matter quite thoroughly enough for any
twelve honest and true men under the sun.

Mrs. Winslow stuck her head out of the door, launched a threat, coupled
with a well-defined oath, against Fox, who was leisurely strolling along
the hall, to the effect that he ought to be ashamed of himself for
"insulting a defenceless woman in that way, and that if he came there
again she would have him arrested." To which he cheerily responded, "No
offence meant, ma'am; 'fraid the wheat'd spoil, ye see;" and as he went
whistling down the stairs, she slammed the door, locked it, drew the
trembling Le Compte from under the bed, and amid a chime of crockery set
him upon his feet again with a snap to it, and then threw herself into a
rocking-chair and burst into tears, insisting that she was the most
abused woman on the face of earth, and that Le Compte, with his
"_Sacres!_" and "_Diables!_" hadn't the sense of a moth or the muscle of
an oyster, or he would have followed the brute and given him a sound
beating!

Not desiring to be seen by Fox, I ordered my dinner sent to my room, as
did the unhappy couple in the adjoining apartment, who seemed to be
greatly put out by the intrusion, and who were for an hour after
speculating as to the cause of the interruption, and as to whether it
was accidental or not.

"We mustn't come here any more, Le Compte," said the woman dolefully.

"And for why, my angel precious?" anxiously asked the man.

"Why, do you know," replied Mrs. Winslow with earnestness, "I sometimes
really believe I am being watched!"

"No, that was impossible!" said Le Compte, with a start.

"And sometimes," she continued, paying no attention to him, "it seems as
though I could not stand this terrible keeping up appearances any
longer."

"You should have pleasure in the appearance," responded Le Compte
insinuatingly, "it breaks him down already. He is now like one weak
infant."

"That's so, that's so," she answered quickly, in a tone of vengeful
joyousness. "I'll bring the old devil to my feet yet. I'll crush him out
and ruin his fortune, if it takes me all my life. I'll get the biggest
part of it, too; and then, Le Compte, we'll get out of this cursed
country and enjoy ourselves the rest of our lives."

"Yes, in Paris, the magnificent, the beautiful, the sublime! Then we
will live in one heaven of love. Oh, beautiful, beautiful!" cried the
little Frenchman excitedly.

"There, Le Compte," said his companion, suddenly becoming practical
again, "don't make a fool of yourself! Take this bill and go down and
get a bottle of wine; and mind you, don't keep the change either."

As the train returned at two, and I had but little time to reach it, as
soon as Le Compte had come back with the wine and they had become
sufficiently noisy to admit of it, I quietly left my room, paid my bill,
went to the train, avoiding Fox entirely, and, with him, was soon again
in Rochester, leaving the roystering couple at the little hotel at
Charlotte building their vain dreams and air-castles about crushing out
Lyon--which would have been an easy matter if left to himself--their
beautiful, magnificent, and sublime Paris, and their "one heaven of
love" within it.

As soon as Fox stepped from the train I quietly handed him a slip of
paper directing him to make his report to me at the Waverley House,
where I was stopping under an assumed name, which he assured me he would
do, without a word being spoken or even a look of recognition being
passed.

Although the public may not be aware of it, this is an absolute
necessity in detective service. Though I employ hundreds of persons as
detectives, preventive police, and in clerical duties, at my different
agencies, on no occasion and under no circumstances is there ever on the
street, or in any public place whatever, the slightest token by which
the stranger might know that there had ever been any previous
communication between any of my people.

On the next day, Sunday, Lyon called to see me at the hotel and brought
with him two notes from Le Compte--one having been received late
Saturday afternoon, and the other delivered at his house that
morning--both imperatively insisting that Lyon should come to his rooms
and leave that "untractable man" behind.

I complimented him extensively on his having refrained from visiting the
winsome little villain who seemed determined to get Lyon within his
power. He solemnly pledged his word that he would have nothing whatever
to do with the man, and would bluff him in every advance that he made;
and in order to clinch it, I read him choice extracts from Fox's report
regarding the Charlotte party of the day before, interspersing it with a
few of the still choicer items that had come under my own observation.

"My God!" exclaimed Lyon, as I concluded, "are they _all_ that way?"

"Your experience and mine," I smilingly replied, "would almost point to
the fact that a very decided majority of them are."




CHAPTER XIII.

   Mr. Pinkerton again interviews Le Compte.-- And very much
      desires to wring his Neck.-- A Bargain and Sale.-- Le
      Compte's Story.-- "Little by Little, Patience by
      Patience."-- A Toronto Merchant in Mrs. Winslow's Toils.--
      Detective Bristol, "the retired Banker," in Clover.--
      Tabitha, Amanda, and Hannah individually and collectively
      woo him.-- Ancient Maidens full of Soul.-- A Signal.


No jury in the land would render a verdict against a man on the
unsupported evidence of a woman whose character was so vile as we had
already found Mrs. Winslow's to be; and I would have paid no further
attention to the little Frenchman, had I not suspected from his
expensive style of living, and from Mrs. Winslow's injunctions to him
regarding not swindling her in so small a matter as a bottle of wine,
that his necessities and cupidity might cause him to make some tangible
disclosure regarding her, that would give us a clue to other information
against her further than that which Bangs would probably secure in the
West, as I never use detective evidence when it can be avoided, and knew
that a perfect mountain of criminal transactions could be eventually
heaped up against her which could be secured from reliable parties, who
could have no other possible interest in her downfall than a desire to
promote the personal good of society.

Le Compte did not desire to see me again, and had made strenuous efforts
to prevent it and secure a surreptitious interview with Lyon instead.
Failing in this, at the last moment, I had received a very terse note
from him to the effect that he did not desire to transmit any statement
by mail, but would take it as an honor, etc., if I would call at his
place at ten o'clock, Monday morning, which I did, finding the little
fellow in a gorgeous dressing-gown, freshly shaved, and in a neat and
orderly state generally.

"Well, my young friend," said I, "I suppose you have decided to give me
some information this morning."

"Do I get good pay?" he asked in response.

"You will get good pay if you have a good article for sale," I replied.

"Humph!" he responded, with a soft shrug of his delicate shoulders.

"Are you ready to make such a sale?" I asked.

"But where comes my money?" inquired Le Compte, suspiciously.

"It is right here," I answered, slapping my pocket in a hearty way.

"But suppose it shall stay there, then where is Le Compte?" he persisted
with a doleful look which was irresistibly funny.

"It _will_ stay there," I replied, "in case you attempt to play any of
your tricks, my little fellow."

"How shall I then know I am to be paid?"

"You will have to take my word for it."

"But I have not pleasure in your acquaintance; how can I be sure?" he
continued anxiously.

"Le Compte, swindler as you are, you _know_ that I am an honest man.
This quibbling is utterly foolish and simple. I am acting entirely for
Mr. Lyon in this matter, and should you write to him or call upon him a
hundred times, you would get nothing from him but a bluff. Here are your
two notes," I continued, producing them, "one written Saturday, the
other yesterday. The only response you got to them was, silence--and
this interview. I thought we understood each other already."

I saw that he was still undecided about saying whatever he might have to
say, and tenacious of sustaining his professional reputation as a
clairvoyant. I might have easily frightened him into submission by the
slightest reference to the occurrences of the previous day, but knew
that this would have the effect of putting Mrs. Winslow on her guard, as
she was already becoming suspicious and anxious, and preferred getting
at his communication in the ordinary way. After he had sat musing for a
time he suddenly asked:

"How great will be my pay?"

"What do you think the information is worth?" I said.

He looked at me as if fixing a price in his mind that I would stand, and
replied:

"Certain, a thousand dollars."

"That is a good deal of money, Le Compte," I said pleasantly. "I
hardly think you can divulge a thousand dollars' worth. But if you can
give me reliable information of a satisfactory character, I think I
could pay you three hundred dollars.

"Now?" he inquired, suddenly.

"Oh, no, oh, no," I replied as quickly; "no, sir, _not_ until we find
the information you give is reliable."

This dampened the little fellow wonderfully, but he finally said: "Well,
the evidence is certain, but I must offer it to you by clairvoyance,"
and he immediately arose and began darkening the room as on the previous
interview, which act I interrupted by stepping to the window he had just
darkened, and jerking the curtain as high as it would roll, opening the
window, and flinging the blinds open with a slam.

"You little villain!" I shouted, advancing upon him threateningly, "I
will wring your neck if you don't stop this contemptible nonsense!"
while he slunk into the corner, like the mean coward that he was. I
could scarcely keep my hands off the little puppy; but recollecting that
I was there for quite another purpose, I said:

"Le Compte, this is the last time I shall come here, and it is the last
time you will have an opportunity of making a dollar out of any
information you may possess. Now, sir," I said, savagely, starting
towards the door, "you will give it to me, trusting entirely to my honor
to pay you for it, or you will never get a cent for it on earth."

[Illustration: _"You little villain!" I shouted, advancing upon him
threateningly:--_]

The little fellow turned towards me imploringly, with "Please don't go.
My dear sir, you are so greatly abrupt. We have no men like you in La
Belle France."

"Heaven knows, I hope but few _like_ you," I responded. "Now, which is
it, yes, or no? I will give you just thirty seconds in which to answer,"
and I timed him, thoroughly resolved to do as I had said.

Before the expiration of the time mentioned, Le Compte sat down, and
with a despairing shrug of the shoulders, said "Yes."

I immediately returned, sat down in front of him, and said, "Well, Le
Compte, now go ahead with your story like a man."

"What must it be like?" he asked innocently.

"What must it be like?" I repeated, aghast. "Why, you don't intend to
manufacture a story for me against this woman, do you?"

"Oh, no, no, never. But I must know first how bad it must be, when it is
worth three hundred dollars, which you call such great money?"

"Well," said I, all out of patience, "if you know of any occasion when
this woman has been with any man as his wife, or his mistress, and can
give names, dates, and places, and under what circumstances, and this
information on examination proves so reliable that we can get other
witnesses besides yourself--persons of credibility and reputation--to
testify to it, I will pay you three hundred dollars. Isn't that plain
enough?"

"Will you put it to paper?"

"No, sir, you have my word for it, that's all."

Le Compte tapped the floor with his delicate foot a moment, and I saw
the impostor was in real misery. He had a sort of affection for the
woman, which she had more than reciprocated. He could lean on the
strong, daring nature she possessed, and go to her with all his troubles
and disappointments and get help. She had promised him that, as soon as
she had mulcted Lyon of the hundred thousand dollars, he should share it
with her in his own beautiful Paris. All his self-interest laid in and
with the woman; but need for money was pressing, and there were a
million other women as impressible to his charms as she had been. Here
was an opportunity to make a few hundred dollars by betraying her; but
in doing so he still might not get the money, and she might at once
discover from what source the information had come, and he knew enough
about Mrs. Winslow to be sure that she dared any mode of revenge that
best suited her fancy, and he had a wholesome fear of her. I could see
that all these things were flitting through his mind, as plainly as the
reader can see them upon this printed page, and to some extent pitied
his weakness and indecision.

"Or," said I encouragingly, "as you undoubtedly know Mrs. Winslow
intimately, and are very much in her company, if you know of any
occasion when she had, while here in Rochester or in the vicinity, say
Batavia, Syracuse, or Port Charlotte, for instance, gone with some one
of her many favorites, and under an assumed name--Brown, Jones, or
anything of the kind--to a hotel where they had been assigned a room,
and had occupied it together for several hours, and you could put us on
track of persons of reliability who would be willing to come into court
and swear to such facts--I presume there are many persons who could and
would with whom you are acquainted--I would pay you the amount named at
once."

This was cutting pretty close to a tender subject, and before I had half
finished my remarks he started, and looked me in the face in a
suspicious, apprehensive manner, eyeing me closely until I had finished.
But my manner and looks betraying no knowledge on my part of any such
facts hinted at, he relapsed into a puzzled, nonplussed look that was
really ridiculous.

"No, no," he said slowly and cautiously. "I have no such valuable
evidence. That would be much more worth than a thousand dollars--much
more worth. But I can do what you first say, and rest me on the honor of
your word."

"Go on, then," said I.

"Well, we shall go back almost a year. I met first Mrs. Winslow at Port
Charlotte, when she was from Canada returning."

"Did she formerly live in Canada?" I asked.

"No, not for a great time; but has had much travel and friends there. I
first see her at Charlotte. I go there to take a boat. She comes from
the boat there. Lyon meets her, and I think her his wife, he is so much
happy. I like her so much that I do not take the boat. I follow her back
to the city here, and find her beautiful rooms, when I discover she is
not Lyon's wife, but his mistress; but I still have for her admiration,
and one day she comes to me for her future in clairvoyance."

"And then she became your mistress?" I inquired, smiling at his
earnestness.

"No, no, no--never!" he replied quickly, growing red as a rose; "I
became her _friend_!"

Le Compte did not know how near he came to expressing the truth while
endeavoring to avoid it, but continued:

"I became her friend, and we came to each other for advice. She has
great faith--great faith," repeated Le Compte, with much emphasis on the
expression, which seemed to please him, "in my clairvoyance powers. I
give her much comfort. She gives me great confidence of her affairs, and
shows me how rich Lyon makes her. I see her often--very often, at the
Hall and here in my apartments. She gives me much confidence of her
affairs still, and I am informed when she makes Canada some visits. She
goes much to Canada, and I ask her why? She does not tell me, but laughs
in my face, and shows me much money, which she ever brings back. I shake
my finger at her so (illustrating), and say to her: 'You cannot hide
from Le Compte,' which she answers: 'No, I will not. I go for money.
See!'--when she would shake many bills in my face--'I make him come
down, too!'"

"Did she give you the man's name?"

"I _got_ it," continued Le Compte proudly, "with much wine--_and_
clairvoyance!"

"Oh, confound your eternal clairvoyance!" said I. "I want the facts."

"But I got facts _with_ clairvoyance," persisted the imperturbable Le
Compte. "Little by little, patience by patience, at the end I got
confession from her----"

"Which was?"----

"Which was," continued Le Compte, taking his time, "that Mrs. Winslow
had got great power over a Toronto merchant with much wealth and great
family, by name Devereaux."

"How long had she known him?"

"I know not that--five, four, three years, I will think."

"Did you ever see this Devereaux?"

"Oh, no, no--never; but it is all certain that I speak. Here," continued
Le Compte, stepping nimbly to a secretary and producing a photograph,
which he handed to me, "here you will find the face of Devereaux. Many,
many times I have seen the color of his money."

"And does Mrs. Winslow visit Canada for the purpose of meeting this man
still?" I asked.

"Certain," he answered promptly; then, after a little pause, as if
doubtful of the propriety of what he was about to say, but finally
resolving to earn his money, if possible, "and she shall go there once
more in the next week."

I began to think that the little Frenchman had really a good article for
sale, and made full memoranda of all the main points. I asked him some
further questions, the answers to which showed conclusively that Mrs.
Winslow had made a full confidant of him concerning the Canadian
affair, at least; that she had secured a vast amount of money from
Devereaux at the same time that Lyon was breaking her heart; and that,
whether Devereaux was fated to go through the same final experience as
Lyon, or not, that he had undergone and was undergoing the same
preliminary experience.

At the close of the interview I informed Le Compte that his information
was quite satisfactory, and that it only remained for me to prove its
correctness in order to permit the payment of the money, which, however,
should necessarily be on the additional condition that he at once
secured for us information as to the date on which the madam was to make
her profitable little pleasure-trip to Toronto.

This he agreed to do, and I left him; not, however, until he had
anxiously requested to know more about me, and where and when he was to
receive his money. I told him that I was a travelling man; that I had no
permanent residence, was here and there all over the country; but that
the moment we ascertained the truth of his statements, which would be
very soon, he should be compensated.

I communicated to Lyon the facts elicited during this interview, which
completely overwhelmed him with the perfidy of human nature in general,
and woman in particular; but gave him considerable encouragement
concerning the progress of our work; and after directing Bristol,
through the post, to continue playing the _role_ of the banker, and to
keep himself in preparation for telegraphic instructions, returned to
New York.

All this time Bristol was in clover. The three old maids, Tabitha,
Amanda, and Hannah, had looked him over and saw that he was a good man
to tie to. Here was a man, they agreed, who had come in among them a
perfect stranger, and yet so possessed was he of a frank, winsome way,
and such a reliable, honorable demeanor had he exhibited towards them,
three lone and defenceless women as they were, that they had
instinctively felt that they could trust him; nay, even more, they were
sure that they could lean upon him, as it were; take him into their
confidence; share their joys with him, rely on him to sympathize with
them in all their sorrows--in fact, make of him a sort of an
affectionate Handy Andy--a good-natured and attractive attache to their
affections, and a profitable sign-post to their business.

Neither had any man ever before received such signs and tokens of a
deep-seated and ineradicable affection.

Every morning he was awakened from his virtuous slumbers by the
delicious music of a bird training organ, which was wound in turn by the
maidens and set inside his door, where, "in linked sweetness long drawn
out," it galloped over the harmonies with: "Then you'll remember me,"
"Don't be angry with me, Darling," "Who will care for Mother Now?"
"Bonnie Charlie's Noo Awa'," "Annie Laurie," and like tender airs, until
the poor man cursed the Three Graces of Washington Hall restaurant, and
the detective service, threadbare.

After this delicious reminder of languishing love he was served with a
breakfast fit for a king, at which Tabitha, Amanda, and Hannah in turn
presided, and which was always graced by a large bouquet of flowers
whose language and fragrance only breathed of love.

On these occasions the conversation never failed to turn upon Bristol's
merits, the old maids' loneliness, and the superiority of women without
physical beauties, but full of soul, over those more fortunate in flesh
but wanting in spirituality. This was an advertisement for their own
establishment, and a drive at Mrs. Winslow; and Bristol always
acknowledged the force of the argument.

Whenever Mrs. Winslow took a meal at the restaurant, which had now
become a frequent occurrence, just so certain was Bristol's
corresponding meal served in the little snuggery, where, however busy
they might be, one of the ancient ladies kept him good company and
quickened his digestion with sparkling humor and witty jest, such only
as can course through the flowery avenues of an aged spinster's mind,
made fresh and blooming by the wild fancy of the second childhood of
love's young dream; and at night, when the busy day was over and the
vulgar public shut out by the well-bolted front door, the little
snuggery always held the same wise old company, where Bristol, ripe in
age and experience, passed an hour with the ladies over tea and
sweetmeats, or wine and waffles, surrounded by the thrilled and blushing
trio, who, preparatory to retiring, discovered to him as many of their
combined charms as modesty would allow, and in their tender hearts
built plans for the future when they would bodily possess Bristol--at
least one of them, if the laws of society did prevent his making a sort
of blessed trinity of himself for their benefit.

This course of procedure angered Mrs. Winslow. _Her_ heart also yearned
for the retired banker, and when she saw how securely he was being kept
from her grasp by the wily old maids, she immediately began preparing a
plan the execution of which would foil them, and eventually give her the
coveted game all to herself. To this end she walked to and fro past the
restaurant, and finally attracted the attention of Bristol while the old
ladies were busily engaged elsewhere, and motioned to him in so
imperative a way and with such earnestness, that he slipped out of the
place, and at a careful distance followed her in the direction of the
Falls Field Garden, where lovers often met and where there was no danger
of interruption.




CHAPTER XIV.

   Mr. Bangs on the Trail in the West.-- Terre Haute and its
      Spiritualists.-- Mrs. Deck's Boarding-house.-- The
      Nettleton Family broken up.-- Back at the Michigan
      Exchange.-- Mother Blake's Recital.-- Through Chicago to
      Wisconsin.-- A disheartening Story.-- The practical result
      of Spiritualism.


Superintendent Bangs arrived at Terre Haute in good time, and found
himself in one of the greatest centres of Spiritualism in the world.

The very air seemed charged and surcharged with the permeating power.
People watching incoming trains had a listless, far-away look, as though
watching for the dim spirits which were constantly expected from the
other land, but which never came. The clamorous cabmen raised their
sing-song voices as if only expecting, though more than desiring, only
shadowy freight. The regular loiterers had long hair, cadaverous faces,
and large, lustrous eyes, and where females appeared, they were
generally in pinched faces, flowing hair, long pantaloons and short
gowns, as if ready for a grand Amazon-march upon the gullible public.

On the way to the hotel every other stairway held the sign of one or
more clairvoyants, mediums, or astrologists, and every manner of
business seemed to have the ghostly trail upon it. The pedestrians upon
the streets, the men at their counters, the workmen at their trades, the
women at their various employments, the common laborers at their most
menial toil, each and every, from the highest to the lowest, seemed to
have a weary, listless air, as if constant wrestling with communicating
spirits healthier and more robust than themselves, had left a chronic
exhaustion upon and with them.

At the hotel the register was thin and ghostly, the office was deserted
and dreary, the meals were served in a listless, dreamy way, as if the
guests were ghosts and the waiters not so good. In fact, the whole place
and everything in it was tinctured with the common craziness, and gave
the healthy, wide-awake stranger the impression of having suddenly come
upon a community of mild lunatics, who were quite happy in the
conviction that they were directing the affairs of both earth and
heaven, and establishing pleasant, intramural relations between their
chosen Hoosier City and the beautiful City beyond the River; all of
which would be very pleasant and profitable if anybody had ever come
back from the undiscovered country to give us its geographical outlines,
define its limits, or explain any profit that has accrued from becoming
a monomaniac on a subject that has no relation whatever to the common
needs and duties of life, and has never been known to give to the world
or its society a single healthful, helpful nature or intellect.

Mr. Bangs was neither pleased with the hotel, or able to get much
information while there, and consequently changed his quarters to Mrs.
Deck's boarding-house, a long, rambling brick building, that at one time
had been a fine residence after the Southern style. It was covered with
moss and vines, and had a snug, pleasant appearance, while everything
about the house had an air of quaint, attractive restfulness. Every
person who has ever been in Terre Haute for a few days' stay, as Bangs
was, will remember the genial old soul who presided over the destinies
of this particular boarding-house--the fat, garrulous, whimpering, but
kind-hearted Mrs. Deck; her charming daughter, the blooming Belle
Ruggles, by a former and more fortunate marriage, with her fair face and
wealth of golden hair, flitting about the house--which was also the
abode of spirits, mysterious materializations and unexplainable
rappings--like a good, sensible spirit that _she_ was, and letting her
good sense and kind ways into the cobwebbed rooms and dark places, like
an ever-changing though constant flood of sunlight; and "Old Deck," as
the boys called him, who believed in another kind of spirits still, and,
when opportunity offered, became so full of them that he held a grand
and extended "seance" on his own account.

People not only sought Mrs. Deck for good board, but for reliable
neighborhood gossip; and Mr. Bangs, learning of her reputation as a
repository of news as well as a liberal dispenser of creature comforts,
changed his quarters from the hotel to her place, and found from a few
days in her company that she was a sort of historian, having at her
tongue's end numberless incidents connected with the growth of the city
and the family relations of every class of people in or near it.

He learned from her where the Hosfords had lived, but could get nothing
particular regarding the woman herself, as Mrs. Deck had never seen her,
and only knew of her by reputation, which she was sure had been good.

Mr. Bangs at once went into the country neighborhood where the Hosfords
had lived, and found that they had removed to some point in Wisconsin,
near Sheboygan Falls, the neighbors had heard, but he could not find
that there had been a single trace of trouble at Terre Haute. All those
who had known them spoke of them both in the highest terms. They had
both been staunch members of the Methodist Church, and though plain,
quiet farmers, had been considered prominent people in the neighborhood.

Hosford was remembered as a slow-going, easy-conditioned, good-natured
fellow, but as honest as the day was long; and no one had ever known
aught against his wife, save that some of the old gossips thought that
she had brought too much jewelry and fine clothing into the neighborhood
with her. This, however, she had judiciously kept out of sight as much
as possible, and, as far as could be learned, had led in every respect
an exemplary life.

From this point Mr. Bangs proceeded to Kalamazoo. The Nettleton family
were gone, no one knew where; but here he was told of the escapade to
Detroit of Lilly Nettleton years before, enough of which had floated
back to her native place--coupled with the old people's later sorrows,
which were largely dilated upon--to account for the breaking up of the
family and its members being scattered broadcast.

Accidentally at Kalamazoo, in conversation with the clerk at the
Kalamazoo House, who had formerly been employed at Detroit, and who was
"up to snuff," as he termed it, Bangs learned of Mother Blake, who had
informed the clerk of Bland's unfortunate experience with one Lilly
Mercer. He also got from the clerk a description of Mother Blake
sufficiently comprehensive to enable him to find her if she were still
at Detroit, where he at once proceeded.

On arriving in that city he went to the Michigan Exchange Hotel, and,
through the courtesy of the proprietors, was allowed to look up the
records of the house.

It was fifteen years previous that the man who said he was "from Bland"
met Lilly Nettleton at the depot and had taken her to the Michigan
Exchange to meet the reverend circuit-rider; but after he had got at the
dusty records he found on the register, evidently in the handwriting of
a clerk: "Lilly Mercer, Buffalo, Room 34," under date of August 15,
1856, and also the names of "R. J. Hosford, Terre Haute, Room 98," and
"Lilly Nettleton, Kalamazoo, Room 34," in a cramped and almost illegible
hand under date of November 28th of the same year; and on the next day's
page, in the same hand: "R. J. Hosford and wife, Terre Haute, Room 34."

The next step was to hunt up Mother Blake, which was not a very hard
matter, as women of her character generally run in the same noisome rut,
until they are swept from the great highway with other pestilences of
life, and pass from bitter existence and infamous memory; and after one
or two evenings running about among the _demi-monde_ he found the
woman--quite an old lady now, but nearly as well-kept and quite as jolly
as ever, presiding over a group of soiled divinities at a neat retreat
on Griswold Street.

Through the purchase of a vile bottle of wine the old lady's lips were
opened, and her tongue began a perfect gallop about Bland and Lilly
Mercer.

She gave the latter the reputation of being one of the shrewdest women
she had ever met, and laughed until the tears came into her eyes over
the way in which she had "played it" on Bland, who had picked her up for
a fool, and had himself been terribly sold. Then she launched into
vituperations towards the young minister, who had accused her of
"standing in" with the girl in the robbery, when she had been as badly
fooled as himself. Whatever she had been and was, she said, there wasn't
a dishonest hair in her head; which assertion Bangs had reason to
believe to be literally true, as he noticed that she wore a wig.

She then in great glee told him how she had "got even" with Bland by
"giving him away" to the papers, which had soon taken the feathers out
of _his_ cap, she remarked with much satisfaction, broken his mother's
heart, who died and willed all her property to the good cause of
furnishing the heathen with an occasional fat missionary steak, and
finally drove Bland out of Detroit, when he had gone to some Eastern
city and, under another name, with his fine manners, airy ways, and good
clothes, was playing it fine on some old Spiritualist millionaire out
our way.

When the vision of the magnificent Harcout--which was almost a constant
one, as he rushed into my office on the slightest pretext whatever, big
with his own importance and unusually full of enthusiasm over "our
case"--flitted before my eyes, it gave to me additional romance in the
work, in the sense that here, after many years, the man whom Mrs.
Winslow in her early career had so magnificently duped, had
unconsciously become one of her most relentless pursuers.

But it was a matter for speculation whether Harcout knew her to be the
person who had so neatly taken him in, or whether he had risen to this
condition of fervor in his work merely to impress Lyon with his useful
friendship. I inclined to the latter opinion, however, as I was
satisfied that if he had known with whom he was dealing he would have
given up all expectations of continued favor and patronage from Lyon,
and left Rochester as hastily as he had, as Bland, departed from
Detroit.

Bangs also asked her if she had ever seen Lilly Mercer since that time.

Of course she had seen her, just at the close of the war. One day as she
was crossing the river in the ferry, coming back from Windsor, she had
met her face to face. Mother Blake said that she seemed wonderfully
glad to meet her, and wanted to borrow some money, which she had
refused. She then gave her her card, upon which she was called some
Madam or other, a clairvoyant, and she had some shabby rooms on
Wisconsin Street, near the theatres. She was still young and pretty,
Mother Blake said, and she easily persuaded her to come and live with
her, which she did, "and," continued the old woman, with a withering
look at the girls, "low down as she was, she made more money in a day
than any half-dozen women I ever had." The old lady further said that
she had only remained with her long enough to get some fine clothing and
money together, when she started for the East.

She had never seen her since, but she had heard that she had several
times passed through the city towards Chicago, always returning to the
East, however, and also always richly dressed, and having every
appearance of living in clover. "Let her alone to get along," concluded
the old lady; "she'll live like a queen where another, a million times
better than she, would starve."

From Detroit, Bangs proceeded to Chicago, and from thence to Sheboygan
Falls, Wisconsin, where it required but a few minutes' inquiries to put
him on track of the Hosfords.

Hosford had come there from Terre Haute several years ago, bought a fine
farm a few miles out, and had, as far as could be ascertained, lived a
comfortable sort of life for about a year, when trouble began.

Mrs. Hosford, from the good member of society which she was supposed to
be, or really had been, suddenly embraced Spiritualism, and began
running about the country with any old vagabond tramp of this kind that
came along; and from the hard-working, economical woman she had been,
she had become a spendthrift, a drunkard, and a prostitute. Hosford had
moved away, and after considerable time and inquiry, it was ascertained
that he had gone to Oskaloosa, in Iowa, determined to get away from old
associations as far as possible, and had taken their three children with
him, which she had vainly endeavored to secure.

Bangs spent several days here in hunting up evidence. There was plenty
of it--mountains of it. Merchants and other business men of the town
would button-hole him, take him into some retired place and tell him how
this man had been caught _in flagrante delicto_ with Mrs. Hosford, how
that man had confessed to having been caught in her toils, and how some
other person had been made a suspicious person in the society of the
place, through some peccadillo with the dashing _Madam_.

All these persons referred to told of all the other persons who had
divulged their weaknesses, until it seemed to Mr. Bangs, after remaining
a few days in the vicinity, that the entire male portion of the
community were implicated. But securing promises of depositions was
quite another thing. Mr. A. was a married man, belonged to the church,
had extensive business relations, and, while he would like to assist in
the noble effort to show up the infamous woman, he really could not,
you see, place himself in so delicate a position.

Mr. B. was not a member of any church, but had the reputation of a high
order of morality. While he could not but acknowledge the justice of the
request, and hoped that Mr. Bangs would have no trouble in securing all
the evidence he needed, which would be a very easy matter, still he did
not see how he could consistently compromise himself by going on record
as a common adulterer.

Mr. C. was neither a churchman, nor did he claim a high order of
morality; but if he had good luck, he would in the spring marry a very
pretty girl of the village, and if she should ascertain that he had
previously been so generous with his affections in another direction, he
was satisfied that his dream of future bliss would be dissolved in thin
air at once.

And so on through the entire village directory. There were pointed out
scores of persons who had the knowledge desired, were all willing to
help him secure _some other person_ for sacrifice, and all equally
enthusiastically hoped that her suit against Lyon would end in an
ignominious failure; but declined, with thanks, the proud honor of
exposing their own weaknesses, for even the extreme honor of assisting
in her downfall.




CHAPTER XV.

   A Chicago Divorce "Shyster."-- Hosford found.-- His pathetic
      Narrative.-- More Facts.


Mr. Bangs was in no hurry to leave Sheboygan Falls, as he found that he
was in a fruitful field for information, and he continued garnering it
in and stacking it away industriously.

It appeared that Hosford's wife, not content with disgracing his name,
had soon developed her old and never-satisfied greed for money and any
sort of power that might be wielded mercilessly; and it was evident that
she had money, for she immediately began dressing with much elegance and
travelling about the country extensively. The probability was that she
had still retained the money stolen from Bland, and had also, during her
years of economy, carefully added to it until she had secured a large
sum, as she had occasion to use a good deal of money in a certain
transaction, which quite thoroughly illustrated her unprincipled and
revengeful character.

When Hosford had removed from Indiana to Wisconsin, he had purchased a
larger and a finer farm, and had been obliged to give a mortgage upon it
for several thousand dollars, to be used in making necessary
improvements. This had been paid off with the exception of about three
thousand dollars, which amount, as soon as Mrs. Hosford had begun making
it lively for her husband, and had left him for the purpose of wedding
Spiritualism and all that the term implies, she immediately produced and
bought up the mortgage, placing it in ex-Senator Carpenter's hands for
foreclosure; but poor Hosford, struggling under his heavy load of
desertion, disgrace and persecution, managed to raise the money and take
it up, thus preventing the villainous woman from turning him out of his
own home, which she had deserted and desecrated.

This had proven too much for even the patient Hosford to endure, and he
had set about getting a divorce. But this was a harder thing to do than
he had anticipated. Although he was in possession of nearly as much
information as Bangs had secured, it was impossible to obtain definite
evidence against her. Her terrible temper, her unscrupulousness, her
unbounded and almost devilish shrewdness, and the swift and sudden
principle of revenge that seemed only equalled by her greed for money,
compelled thorough awe and fear among those from whom Hosford had
expected assistance, and the result was he did not get it, and he was
obliged to let the suit for divorce go by default. After this every
petty annoyance that could occur to the woman's mind was visited on him.
She would write him threatening letters; forward him express packages of
a nature to both humiliate him and cause him fear; run him in debt at
every place where she could force, or "confidence," merchants into
trusting her; hire a carriage and secure some male companion as vile as
she, with whom she would proceed to her old home, and in the presence of
her agonized husband and helpless, innocent children, threaten him with
every conceivable form of punishment, including death, and engage in
profanity and drunken orgies that would have disgraced the lowest
brothel in the land.

Mr. Bangs learned that after this sort of procedure for a considerable
period, she suddenly disappeared. Hosford took this opportunity to
dispose of his farm and remove with his motherless family to Iowa. Mr.
Bangs could not learn at Sheboygan what the woman's history had been
during that period, but vague rumors had floated back to the place that
she had become an army-follower, which was quite probable; but at the
close of the war she had assumed the _role_ of an abandoned adventuress,
and had wandered about the Pacific <DW72> until she had made too
extensive an acquaintance for her safety in that section, and from
thence had wandered through the country towards the East, seeking for
any kind of prey; and being hunted from place to place, under countless
_aliases_, until she had in a measure retrieved herself, as far as money
matters were concerned, and being careful of herself physically, had
regained her good looks which her former terrible dissipation had almost
destroyed, and had eventually so insinuated herself into the affections
of a rich somebody that she had been furnished money with which to
secure a divorce from Hosford, which had been granted in Chicago about
a year and a half previous; when she had come on to Sheboygan Falls and
while there made her boasts that she would soon marry one of the richest
men in New York State, as soon as his wife died, which wouldn't be very
long she had hoped and believed. Besides this, the rumors went, she had
failed to marry that richest somebody in New York State, and papers had
been seen containing an account of the woman and Lyon, her suit against
him, and the fact, which particularly interested her old neighbors, that
she had engaged no lawyer whatever, but had drawn and filed the bill of
complaint herself.

In fact, the entire community were in a state of great excitement over
the woman who was also creating much excitement in the East, and each
person had his or her story to tell of some striking peculiarity or
previous adventure of the madam's, and it required a great amount of
sifting and careful work for Mr. Bangs to secure what he came for.

After a few days, however, he had worked so judiciously that he had got
pledges from several responsible citizens that they would give their
depositions as to her general character and reputation for chastity, or
rather, want of it, whenever a commission should be forwarded to a
certain lawyer of the city whom he engaged to take them.

From here he at once proceeded to Iowa, only stopping at Chicago long
enough to secure a transcript of the divorce which had been granted in
that city so noted for divorces, that one shyster alone secured seven
hundred and seventy-seven of these desirable instruments from the period
between the great fire and the close of the year 1875, from whence he
immediately proceeded to Oskaloosa, where he soon became acquainted with
parties who had known the woman, though under as many different
_aliases_ as she had visited cities of that State.

She had invariably advertised herself as a medium and female physician,
and had swindled every one with whom she had come in contact, from the
editor to errand-boy, from one end of the State to the other, and had
gained even a worse reputation there than in Wisconsin. He ascertained
that Hosford was not living at Oskaloosa, and before going through the
same experience in listening to countless tales of the woman's depravity
as he had in Wisconsin, he decided to proceed to his place, which was
near Monroe, twenty-nine miles distant. He procured a conveyance and
drove out to Hosford's farm, arriving at the place about dusk, where,
after he had stated his business, he was invited to remain over night,
and made comfortable.

Although a farmer, Hosford had everything cozy and pleasant about him,
had married into a very respectable family, and had secured a most
agreeable wife, who was caring for his children--two bright girls and a
boy, from twelve to fifteen years of age--with almost the tenderness and
affection of an own mother. After supper Hosford sent his family into
another part of the house, and expressed himself as ready to give any
information in his power.

He had not yet heard of the suit against Lyon, and when Mr. Bangs told
him, he seemed astonished beyond expression, and after a little time
said that he had often tried to think of some Satanic scheme that the
woman _would not_ dare to undertake if it occurred to her, but he had
failed to imagine any. But with the record, especially for personal
purity, behind her that Mrs. Winslow possessed, he could not but be
particularly startled and surprised at her supreme self-possession and
audacity. After a little further desultory conversation, Mr. Bangs told
him that the Agency had all the necessary information regarding their
early career, and of their subsequent history up to the time when they
left Terre Haute, and probably a great deal after that time, and asked
Hosford if he would be willing to go over the whole matter, giving the
outlines of their troubles, what brought them about, and what had been
their result.

He was the same old Dick Hosford--abrupt, kind, generous, with perhaps
some of the old "forty-niner" roughness worn off and a toning-down of
his whole nature, that his keen sorrows had given him; but he was quite
as impulsively reckless, and just as impulsively tender, and he began
his story in a kind of weary way, that, to one knowing his history, was
really sad and touching.

"Well, sir," said Hosford, "I knew the gal had been doing wrong at
Detroit, but for all these hard years in Californy I had been working,
savin', and goin' through danger with the purty pictur ahead that the
bright girl I had left by the river would one day make me a happy home.
I worked like a <DW65>, and it was sometimes up and sometimes down with
me out thar--mostly down, though. But I struck a good lead one day, and
worked close till it panned dry. I didn't have much aside some of them
fellows out thar; but instead of runnin' it down my throat, givin' it to
cut-throat gamblers, or flingin' it away on vile women, I started full
chisel for the States. I come to Terre Haute, as you know, and spent
nearly all my dust buyin' a little farm. Then I started fur Nettleton's,
whar I expected heaven--but found hell!

"It bust me all up like, and I wandered about the old place jest as
though I had went to sleep happy and waked up in a big grave that I
couldn't get out of. The old folks themselves wasn't any more cut up
than me; but I thought as how I wasn't doin' anything to help matters,
'n only making _them_ more trouble. So I thought and thought what to do,
and finally made up to go a-huntin' her, 'n told the old folks I
wouldn't come back 'thout her.

"It all come over me then what she was doing; but I only thought to get
her back for the old folks' sake. Well, sir, I went to Chicago, and hung
around that doggoned city fur a week 'r two; but no Lil. Then I come
back, lookin' everywhere, askin' everybody, an' peerin' into every
place; but no Lil. Finally, I got to Detroit, and I went into every one
of those places where I feared she _might_ be; but no Lil. Do you know
where I found her?"

Mr. Bangs told him he did, and how.

"Well, sir," continued Hosford, "I was utterly discouraged, 'n was goin'
to go back and sell the place, and get away from the country altogether;
but when I saw her all so rosy, fixed up so gay, and got to be such a
grand sort of a woman, I just caved in altogether and wanted her for
myself more 'n ever. I thought she had a good heart, and that I loved
her enough to always be kind to her--as God knows I was--and thought
_that_ might keep her right. I never asked her a question, 'n wouldn't
let the old folks. Everybody makes mistakes, ye know, and it kind of
makes people wild to let 'em know _you_ know it, and to badger 'em with
questions. Well, she had lots of good sense, and took off her finery
before we got to the old folks', who were 'most crazy with joy that we
had come back together as man and wife. We stayed at Nettleton's a few
days, then went direct to Terre Haute. I don't believe a man ever had a
better wife 'n she was to me while we lived there. We never mentioned
the old times, and were very happy, as the children kept comin' along.
The silks and jewels she got at Detroit were all put away, 'n I never
saw 'em, till one day I come home unexpected and found the children shut
out in the yard, and my wife afore the lookin'-glass, all rigged out in
her old finery, an' lookin' herself over and over, while countin' a big
pile of money that I had never seen before. I got a good look at her,
but went whistlin' about the house for a long time, so as to let on that
I didn't see her, and to give her time to get her old clothes on agin.

"It seemed as if right there and then the clouds begun hangin' over the
house. I didn't say a word about it, and made everything as cheery as I
could; but begun tryin' to think what had set her goin', and after a few
days found that she had been attendin' some of those Spiritual meetings
down to town, and one of the Doctors come up to our place and stayed a
few days, representin' himself as a good Methodist.

"I knew it wouldn't do to stay there any longer, an' so we moved to
Wisconsin, I makin' her think it was healthier 'n where they had no
ager. Well, sir, after we got there everything was pleasant and happy
agi'n till the Spiritualists begun overrunnin' that country too, and she
commenced her tantrums at once. I didn't oppose her goin' to them
meetin's, but told her I hoped she wouldn't get mixed up with 'em too
much; but 'twas no use. The devil had come into the house in that shape,
and though I prayed hard that it might leave, it got worse and worse,
till the children were 'most crazy with fright and sorrow. I didn't know
what to do. She run me in debt, slandered me, disgraced me. She would
not only run about the country with those terrible people, but she took
to her old life, which was worse than everything else. I tried every way
to reform her; but she was bound to go her vile way, and I could stand
it no longer.

"You know the rest up there. After she had been gone some time and had
got the divorce in Chicago, I come here with the children, to try and
get away from it all. You have seen my wife. She ain't a purty woman.
She is pure and good though, and I prayed to God that the shadder would
never come here. But 'twasn't any use. It seemed as though my prayin'
never helped things much! We hadn't more 'n got settled here, when I
heard of her travellin' through the country--you know how. Some way she
found me out here, and I haven't had much peace since.

"One time she came here and left a trunk full of nice silk dresses and
things. After a time, wife and I looked into it and found over two
hundred keys of all kinds, besides pistols and knives. She came and took
it away soon after, accusin' us of stealin' some of her things, and
threatened to have us arrested. A few months afterwards she went up to
Newton, the county-seat, and swore out a warrant for our arrest on the
charge of assault and battery, and got subpoenas out for all the folks
across the way. The Sheriff came down here to serve his warrant and
subpoenas, and at Monroe learned something about the woman, so that by
the time he got here and talked it over with us, I come to the
conclusion she wanted to get us away and then steal the children; so we
took them all along, left one of the neighbors to take care of the
house, and went to Newton to stand trial. Sure enough, she didn't appear
agin' us, but did come here in a carriage fur the children, awful drunk,
and come near shootin' the man that was taking care of the place!"

Bangs here asked Hosford whether he had ever seen her since or had heard
from her.

"I have seen her but once," he replied. "But I have heerd about her
doin's, time and time again. She come here one day in a carriage,
dressed fit to kill; and the first I see, she was tryin' to get the
children into the carriage with her. I ordered them to come in, when,
with an oath, she put her hand to her bosom as if to draw a pistol.

"I got mad at this, and told her that if she had come to that agin,
_I'd_ have a hand in too; and as soon as I turned into the house as if
to get a pistol--I only had an old rusty one with a broken lock, but had
an idea that I could some way use it--she blazed away at me, the ball
going through the front door and driving the splinters into my clothes.
As she didn't know whether she had hit me or not, she drove away at full
gallop, and I've never sot eyes on her since."

The poor fellow seemed to say this with an inexpressible sense of
satisfaction and relief. He had had more than his share of her general
depravity forced upon him, and the respite from it, though short, was
very dear to him.

Bangs got from Hosford the names of parties in contiguous towns who
could give him definite information about Mrs. Winslow, while he offered
to come to Rochester himself, if his presence was required; and after a
good night's rest and an early breakfast, Mr. Bangs returned to Monroe.
After a few days' travel and inquiry he secured a thousand times more
information than necessary to compel the retiracy of the splendid Mrs.
Winslow from her then public and profitable field of operations, after
which he returned to New York, well satisfied with the result of his by
no means pleasant labors.




CHAPTER XVI.

   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 most artistic 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 her hands 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, "_I_ feel as though we had been acquainted for
years. Don't think me bold, Mr. Bristol, but I have had you in my
thoughts much--possibly _too_ much," 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 sudden change 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 that _she_ was not so very, _very_ old.

"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 few moments 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 he _should_.

"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
really _knew_ that 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?"

[Illustration: _"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 as he 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 the _role_ of 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 providing
_bijouterie_ to 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
unexpressed _something_ ready 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 to _La Belle France_, where with his wit and
her winning ways and 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 any event, 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 the assumed 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.




CHAPTER XVII.

   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 the letter 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 was addressed 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.

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 Devereaux called, 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, for Bristol 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 might occasion 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 and loving 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; he knew whether he _owed_ her 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. Winslow
confided 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, and _vice versa_,
as occasion required.

So the furnished rooms sign went up over the clairvoyant sign, and Mrs.
Winslow added to the charms of handsome medium 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.




CHAPTER XVIII.

   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 act concerning 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 am satisfied 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 destroy the 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, "_should_ be 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 are _you_ a 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 was _more_ fearful 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 said he 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 suspicious of 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 several thousand 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.




CHAPTER XIX.

   Mrs. Winslow becomes confidential.-- Some of her Exploits.--
      Her Plans.-- A Sample of Legal Pleading.-- A fishy
      Story.-- The Adventuress as a Somnambulist.-- Detective
      Bristol virtuously indignant.-- Failing to win the
      "Retired Banker," Mrs. Winslow assails Detective Fox with
      her Charms.


After a time Bristol and Fox became Mrs. Winslow's only confidants.
Their business was to become so, and they successfully accomplished
their object. As Bristol said in one of his reports: "Only set her
tongue wagging, and she spouts away as irresistibly as an artesian
well."

Had she been possessed of womanly instinct in the slightest degree, this
would have been impossible. But being a male in everything save her
physical structure, it was quite natural that she should hobnob with
those most congenial; and as she had antagonized all her lodgers save my
operatives, and they made a particular effort to keep up a good-natured
familiarity, the three were certainly on as easy terms as possible, and
passed the autumn evenings, which were growing long now, in conversation
of an exceedingly varied nature, with an occasional sitting or seance,
and not infrequently a visitation of spirits of more material character;
and the following are a few of the many facts in this way brought out,
and by Bristol and Fox transmitted to me at New York in their daily mail
reports.

In one of Mrs. Winslow's peregrinations, probably for blackmail
purposes, she secured the indictment in Crawford County, Pennsylvania,
of one George Hodges, for swindling. He was not at that time arrested,
but a year or so after, finding that he was in Cincinnati, and claiming
that he was a non-resident, had him arrested as a fugitive from justice.
When the case was called before an obscure justice, no prosecuting
witness appeared, whereupon Hodges was discharged and at once secured a
warrant against her for perjury, but afterwards withdrew it. Meantime
the woman shook the dust of Cincinnati from her feet and repaired to St.
Louis, where she began several suits against parties there, notably one
against a leading daily newspaper of that city, from which she
afterwards secured one thousand dollars damages for libel. She
afterwards swung around the circle to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, where
she obtained from the Governor of that State a requisition on the
Governor of Ohio, at Columbus, upon whom she waited and requested him to
designate her as the person to whom should be delegated the power under
the law to convey the fugitive, Hodges, to the Keystone State; but the
private secretary of the Governor of Ohio suspecting that the person who
had presented the papers, and for whose benefit they had been issued,
would make improper use of them, they were returned to the Governor of
Pennsylvania, whereupon she had made Columbus ring with denunciations
of gubernatorial corruption, and threatened to cause the impeachment of
Pennsylvania's Executive, although those two commonwealths were never
completely shattered by her.

Again in conversation regarding her case, which now seemed never out of
her mind or off her tongue, she informed Bristol confidentially that she
intended keeping Lyon in the dark altogether, giving him and his counsel
no inkling as to what course she intended to pursue, which would so
worry him that he would be glad to settle for at least twenty-five
thousand dollars, rather than have the case come to trial and be exposed
as she would expose him; and if he did not settle at the last moment,
she would have subpoenas issued for Lyon's mother-in-law, all his
children, several other women who, the spirits had revealed, had been
similarly betrayed, and even Lyon himself, and then she _would_ make a
sensation.

At this stage she was positive he would settle, as she knew he was half
worried to death about the matter; and besides this, he knew that she
knew he had told a certain lawyer of the city that he had once loved her
better than any other woman on earth, and the only reason he had
discarded her was that he was sure her love had taken hold on his pocket
and forsaken himself.

She had signed a release of all claims, but she would stoutly maintain
that it was fraudulently secured, which would only further establish the
fact that she had had a valid claim upon him. Nor did she fear the
opposing counsel. She was lawyer enough to attend to her own case, she
said. Her legal knowledge helped her through many a difficulty, and as
she had been lawyer enough to file a declaration, she could get a
rejoinder in shape whenever the answer should appear upon the court
records. Oh, she knew how to handle a jury; she had done it before! In
_this_ case she would say: "Gentlemen of the jury:--There are many who
believe that I merely seek for money. This is not true. I ask for a
verdict that I may gain a husband. For all of the injury that I have
received--lost time, lost money, lost reputation, years of suspense and
hope deferred--I only ask for a verdict in consonance with what a man in
Lyon's position should be compelled to give to one so grossly wronged.
Gentlemen, if you give me a heavy verdict, you give me Mr. Lyon. I say
this in all sincerity--yes, as a proof of my sincerity. I want the man,
not his money; and a heavy verdict gives me the man, for Mr. Lyon is so
penurious that he will marry me rather than pay the amount I claim. With
him, he has so won my whole being, even in poverty I would feel richer
than to live without him the possessor of millions!"

In delivering this eloquent peroration, Mrs. Winslow in reality rose
upon a chair, and, figuratively, upon the giddy altitude of her dignity,
and tossing back her head, elevating her eyebrows, looking peculiarly
fierce with her great gray eyes, and flinging the back of her right hand
into the palm of her left with quick, ringing strokes, delighted her
audience of operatives, and male and female Spiritualists, who on this
occasion crowded the reception-room and cheered their hostess as she
descended from her improvised rostrum to order something to refill the
glasses which had been enthusiastically emptied to her overwhelming
success.

When business was dull with the woman, she would be certain to retain
the company of the detectives, as it seemed that she was beginning to
avoid being left alone as much as possible, and would, under no
circumstances, allow them both to be absent at the same time. Though
ordinarily careful of, and close with, her money, to keep my men at home
on these, to her, dreary evenings, she would send for cigars, liquor,
and choice fruits, and after considerable urging they would remain, when
the conversation would invariably turn upon the Winslow-Lyon case, or
some incident in the fair plaintiff's eventful life, which the gentlemen
as invariably listened to with the closest interest and attention.

On one occasion Spiritualism was being discussed, when Mrs. Winslow
touched on her early history, and the revelation then made to her which
in after-life convinced her of the possession of supernatural powers.
Her father had had several boxes of honey stolen from his bee-hives,
when she was but a little girl. Search was made for them in every
possible direction, but no trace of them could be found, whereupon she
conveniently went into a trance, the first she had ever experienced,
continuing in that state several hours, and finally awakening from it
terribly exhausted. But the trance brought the honey, for a wonderful
vision came upon her, wherein spirit-forms appeared clothed in
overwhelming radiance, and, after caressing her spiritual form for some
time, and making her realize that she was an accepted child of Light,
pointed their dazzling celestial fingers towards an old hollow stump
standing at the side of the road leading towards town. So powerful and
penetrating was the light which radiated from these spirits that it
seemed to permeate the stump, leaving its form perfect as ever, but
making it wholly translucent, so that she could see the boxes of honey
piled up within the stump as clearly as though she had been standing
beside it and it had been made of glass. She gave this information to
her father, who ridiculed the revelation, but was both curious and
desirous of getting the honey, and went to the old stump, where he found
the boxes uninjured and piled in precisely the same manner as described
by his precocious child; all of which was related as if thoroughly
believed--as it doubtless was--in a voice as hollow and mysterious as
the stump itself, while the operatives preserved the utmost gravity and
decorum, and impressed her in every way with their belief in her varied
and wonderful power.

Her affection for Bristol continued for a few weeks unabated, and her
most powerful arts were used in endeavoring to compel him to reciprocate
it. These attempts went as far as a naturally lewd and naturally shrewd
woman dare go--so far, in fact, that in one and the last instance they
became absurdly ridiculous. There was no bolt upon the door of either of
their sleeping-rooms, and, besides, it was necessary for Bristol to
either retire first or step into Fox's room for a little chat, or a
sociable smoke, as Mrs. Winslow had an unpleasant and persistent habit
of disrobing for the night in the reception-room.

One evening, after Mrs. Winslow had given a select seance to a few
admiring friends, including my detectives, Bristol had hurried off to
bed, being tired of the mummery, and after being obliged to listen for
some time to her tumblings and tappings about the room, had finally
fallen into a peaceful doze of a few minutes' duration, when he was
awakened by that undefinable yet irresistibly increasing sense of some
sort of a presence, which often takes from one the power of expression,
or action, but intensifies the mind's faculties. The gas in the
reception-room had been turned low, and his door had been softly opened.
The rooms were quite dark, but the light from the street-lamps were
sufficient to show him the plump outlines of a form which he felt sure
that if it had had an orthodox amount of clothing upon it he could
recognize. It certainly seemed to be the form of a woman, and her long,
dishevelled black hair fell all about her shoulders and below her waist,
while her _robe de nuit_ trailed behind her with fear-inspiring,
tremulous rustlings. On came the robust ghost, and in the weird gloaming
which filled the apartment, he saw the mysterious thing moving towards
him, and in a sort of frenzy of excitement yelled:

"Who's that?"

No answer; but the slow, firm pace of the apparition came nearer to
Bristol's bedside, and he partially rose upon his knees as if to defend
himself.

"Say!--you!" shouted Bristol, "get--get out of here!"

But the ghostly figure came on as resistless as fate until it reached
his bedside. By this time he had risen to his feet and was edging along
the wall to escape, when to his horror he saw the spectre bound into the
bed he had so expeditiously vacated and reach for him with a very
business-like grasp which he nimbly eluded, and with a series of bounds
and scrambles reached the floor. He stood where he had struck for a
moment, addressing some very decided and italicized remarks to the
lively ghost in his bed, and then, in one grand burst of virtuous
indignation, made an impetuous dive at the figure, caught it by one of
its very plump arms, brought the ghost from the bed with a mighty
effort, and securing its left ear with his right hand, trotted the
animated shadow out of his room and into the reception-room right up to
the pier-glass, and then turning on one of the jets at its side, said to
the magnificent ghost, in a voice husky from excitement and rage:

"Woman! if you ever do that thing again, I'll--I'll--aren't you ashamed
of yourself, Mrs. Winslow?"

At the sound of her name, and after a few moments' apparently bewildered
reflection, Mrs. Winslow opened her eyes, which had previously remained
closed, and in an affectedly startled way gasped:

"Oh! where am I? what _have_ you been trying to do with me, Mr.
Bristol?"

To have seen the couple thus in the full gaslight before the
pier-glass, which both reflected and intensified the odd situation--the
woman, held to the mirror so that she might more startlingly view the
result of her gauzy pretence at somnambulism, and the man, in his
night-shirt, his limp night-cap dangling from his neck upon his
shoulder, the ring of stubby gray hair around his head raised by
excitement until it almost hid the glistening baldness above, his legs
bare below the knees, but with a face so full of virtuous resentment at
the scandalous and shallow scheme of the woman to implicate him in
something disgraceful, that his uprightness clothed him as with fine
raiment--would have been to have witnessed the apotheosis of sublimely
triumphant virtue and the defeat of shame.

"What have _I_ been trying to do with _you_?" shouted the now enraged
Bristol; "that's all very fine; but what have _you_ been trying to do
with _me_, madam?"

"Why, didn't I ever tell you that I often walk in my sleep?" she asked
with apparent innocence; and then, as if noticing for the first time how
meagrely both herself and her companion were clad, gave vent to a
half-smothered "Oh!--shame on you, Mr. Bristol!" and broke away from
him, running into her own room, while Bristol, after walking back and
forth in a state of high nervous excitement for some time, muttering,
and shaking his fist towards her room, finally smoothed his rebellious
locks so as to admit of the readjustment of his night-cap, and trotted
fiercely to bed, never more to be disturbed by sleep-walking female
Spiritualists.

There was nothing in all this save a quite common and silly attempt on
the part of the adventuress to get some of the hard-earned money of
which she thought he was possessed, and it disgusted her that he was no
more appreciative than to look upon her charms, that had set the heads
of so many other men all awhirl, with such a cool and impressionless
regard for them.

This latter fact bothered her probably fully as much as in not being
able to get at his bank account, and she finally settled into a sort of
suspicious dislike of him, and turned her attention to Fox, who, being a
quiet sort of a fellow, with less brusqueness than Bristol, was not so
well fitted to keep her at arm's length, and was consequently
immediately the recipient of her torrent-like attentions, caresses, and
confidence.

A book-keeper was the next thing to a retired banker--sometimes even
better off, Mrs. Winslow thought; and, believing that Fox was the
book-keeper he represented himself to be, she conceived the idea of
travelling during the pendency of the suit, and gave Fox glowing
accounts of the vast sums of money they could make if she only had so
presentable a man as he for a sort of agent, manager, and protector.

One afternoon Fox came in early, and said that as he was suffering
severely from headache he had been excused from his duties, and had come
home for rest. He passed into his own room and laid down upon his bed,
where he was immediately followed by the woman, who threw herself
passionately into his arms, declaring that he was the only man whom she
had ever really and truly loved, and terminated her expressions of ardor
by a proposition that he should "get hold of a big pile down there to
the store," as she expressed it, and fly to some quiet spot where they
might revel in love and all that the term implies.

Had he been a book-keeper instead of what he was, and able to secure any
large sum of money, she would have probably so bedevilled him that he
would have become a criminal for life for the sake of gratifying his
passion and her demands, and in a week after she would have had
nine-tenths of the money, and Fox would have been a penniless fugitive
from justice.

He had more trouble than Bristol in dispossessing the mind of the
adventuress of the idea that he was not the man to allow her to become
his Delilah; but when this was done, and she disgustedly realized that
not all men were ready to sell themselves body and soul for her
embraces, while she was indignant and suspicious, yet a sort of easy
confidence was established between the mysterious three, which brought
out a good many strong points in her character, and at the same time led
to the securing of a large amount of evidence against her. In fact, it
seemed that so soon as she thoroughly understood the, to her, novel
situation of being in constant contact with two men who, though probably
no better than average men, were still from the nature of their business
compelled to be above reproach in all their association with her, her
self-assertion and consciousness of power, which she had been able to
assert over nearly every man with whom she came in contact, in a measure
left her, and she became, at least to my operatives, an ordinary woman,
whose inherent vileness, low cunning, and splendid physical perfection,
were her only distinguishing characteristics. This was all natural
enough, for I had compelled these men to be her almost constant
companions, and as they had been with her long enough to drive away any
superfluous constraint, and she had found both of them unassailable,
though sociable and agreeable, her conversation, which chiefly concerned
herself, became as utterly devoid of decency as her life had been, so
that no incident of rehearsed romance of herself lost any of its
piquancy by unnecessary assumption of modesty in its narration.




CHAPTER XX.

   A Female Spiritualist's Ideas of Political and Social
      Economy.-- The Weaknesses of Judges.-- Legal Acumen of the
      Adventuress.-- An unfriendly Move.-- Harcout attacked.--
      Lilly Nettleton and the Rev. Mr. Bland again together.-- A
      Whirlwind.


One evening, after Mrs. Winslow had had a very busy day with her
spiritualistic customers, which had become quite unusual, she showed
herself to be more than ordinarily communicative, undoubtedly on account
of the spirits which had kept her such close company, and at once
started in upon an edifying explanation of her political views, and
confided to Bristol and Fox, as illustrative of her high political
influence, that certain officers of the Government only held their lease
of office through her leniency.

From this she verged into political and social economy, stating her
earnest belief to be that every man should have a military education,
and that if they were found to be unfit physically to withstand the
rigors of a military life, they should be immediately condemned to
death, and thus be summarily disposed of. And so, too, with women. There
should be appointed a capable examining board, and wherever a woman was
found wanting in physical ability to meet every demand made upon her by
her affinities through life, she should also be instantly deprived of
existence. She maintained that there should be a continuous and eternal
natural selection of the best of these mental and physical conditions,
just the same as the stock-raiser bred and inbred the finest animals to
secure a still finer type, and that all persons, male or female, failing
to reach a certain fit standard of perfection in this regard, should be
condemned to death. She would have no marriage save that sanctioned by
the supreme love of one eternal moment; and shamelessly claimed that
passion was the real base of all love, and that, consequently, it was
but a farce on either justice or purity that men and women should be by
law condemned to lives of miserable companionship. In this connection
she held that not half the men and women were fit to live, and were she
the world's ruler she would preside at the axe and the block half of her
waking hours.

These sentiments were quite in keeping with her expressions concerning
the late war, her gratification at Lincoln's assassination, and her
threats that she had President Johnson in her power through her
knowledge of some transactions in Tennessee. This was, of course, all
silly talk, but it showed the woman's tendencies and disposition, and
enabled Bristol and Fox to gradually lead her into narrations of
portions of her own career during and after the war.

She boasted of her ability in fastening herself upon a command, or
military post, by getting some one of the leading officers in her power
so they dare not drive her beyond the lines, and then, when the
soldiers were paid off, getting them within her apartments, drugging
them, robbing them, and finally securing their arrest for absence
without leave. She claims that in this way she often made over five
hundred dollars daily, and would then buy drafts on northern banks, not
daring to keep the thousands of dollars about her which would frequently
accrue.

Interspersed with these narratives were numberless tales of adventure
wherein Mrs. Winslow, under her _aliases_ of the different periods
referred to, had been the heroine, and where her shrewdness and daring,
she wished my operatives to understand, had brought utter dismay to each
of her opponents, all of which had for its point and moral that she was
not a person to be trifled with, as Mr. Lyon would eventually ascertain
to his sorrow.

To more thoroughly impress this, in another instance the question of
being watched and annoyed by Lyon or his agents arose, when she insisted
to Bristol that Fox was a detective, and to Fox that Bristol was one,
and then abruptly accused them both of the same offence, expressing
great indignity at the assumed outrage; and when they had succeeded in
partially pacifying her, she turned on them savagely, saying that they
had better bear in mind that she did not care whether they were
detectives or not; that she was a pure woman--an innocent woman; but
still, she wanted not only them, if they _were_ detectives, but all the
world, to understand that she was capable of taking care of herself,
whoever might assail her. Evidently the good legal mind which the woman
certainly possessed had reverted to her criminal acts in other portions
of the country, for she asserted very violently that, should Lyon
undertake to have her conveyed to any other State upon a requisition to
answer to trumped-up charges for the purpose of weakening her case, she
would shoot the first man that attempted her arrest; and that, if
finally overpowered by brute force, she would still circumvent him by
securing a continuance of the trial at Rochester, and make that sort of
persecution itself tell against "the gray-headed old sinner," as she
most truthfully called him.

She further remarked, with a meaning leer, that she never had any
trouble with the judges. They were generally old men, she had noticed,
and her theory was that old men, even if they were judges, had a quiet
way of looking after the interests of as fine-appearing women as she
was; and even if they did not have, her powers of divination were so
wonderful that she could at any time go into the trance state and
ascertain everything necessary to direct her to success, giving as an
illustration a circumstance where a certain St. Louis daily newspaper
had grossly libelled her, whereupon she had sued its proprietors for ten
thousand dollars, retaining two lawyers to attend to her case. When it
came to trial her counsel failed to appear. With the aid of the spirits
she grasped the situation at once, and, showing Judge Moody a receipt
for attorneys' fees amounting to two hundred dollars which she had paid
them, pleaded personally for a continuance until the next day, which he
granted, showing her conclusively that he was in sympathy with her. She
then went home, and, again calling on the spirits, they revealed to her
that she should win a victory.

So she read all the papers in the case, in order to acquaint herself
with the leading points, and then subpoenaed her witnesses. Having
everything well prepared, she proceeded to the court-room the next day,
and on the case being called, the spirit of George Washington instantly
appeared. It had a beautiful bright flame about its head, and floated
about promiscuously through the upper part of the room. She was certain
that it was a good omen, but it was a long time before she could get any
definite materialization from the blessed ministering angel from the
other side of the river. After a time, however, George's kind eyes
beamed upon her with unmistakable friendliness, and the nimbus, or
flame, that shone from his venerable head in all directions, finally
shot in a single incandescent jet towards the head of the judge; and
immediately after, the gauzy Father of his Country placed his hands upon
the former's head, as if in benediction. This was a heavenly revelation
to her that the judge was with her, as afterwards proved true.

George stayed there until the trial was ended, which she conducted in
her own behalf, constantly feeling that she herself was being upheld by
strong, though invisible hands. When the jury was being impanelled, the
flame, with an angry, red appearance, pointed to those men who were
prejudiced against her, to whom she objected, and they were invariably
thrown out of the panel; while all through the trial the judge insisted
that there should be no advantage taken of her, if she had been forsaken
by her counsel; and with the aid of Washington she won a splendid
victory, securing a judgment of one thousand dollars, which was paid;
and there are scores of lawyers and newspaper men in St. Louis who will
remember this case, that know of the woman and her almost ceaseless
litigation in that action, and who will also recollect that she did get
a thousand dollars from one of the leading newspapers there.

Her cunning and shamelessness were largely commented upon at the time;
but it was reserved for Mrs. Winslow to inform the world, through my
operatives, that George Washington ever descended to this grade of
pettifogging. It can only be accounted for through a knowledge of that
peculiar system of religion which gives to the very dregs of society a
mysterious, and therefore terrible power, whether assumed or otherwise,
over its better elements for their annoyance, persecution, and downfall.

There was also a poetical and religious element in the woman's
composition which very well accorded with her superstitiousness. This
was quite strongly developed by a liberal supply of liquor, which she
never failed to use whenever she became worried and excited over the
coming trial, both of which begat in her impulses for certain lines of
conduct exactly the reverse of those counselled by her more quiet,
calculating reflections.

One pleasant October day, when suffering from a peculiarly severe attack
of romantic fancies, she conceived the idea of breaking through all her
stern resolves relative to not seeing Lyon, and making one more effort
to win him back to her altogether, or so affect him by her fascinating
appearance that he would be glad to settle with her at any reasonable
figure he might name--say twenty-five or fifty thousand dollars.

It was a pleasant fancy, and Bristol and Fox were exceedingly interested
as they noticed her excited preparations for her expedition of conquest.
She sang like a bird, and the bright color came into her face as she
tripped about, busied in the unusual employment. All the forenoon she
dressed and undressed, posing and balancing before the pier-glass like a
_danseuse_ at practice, studying the effect of different colors, shades,
and shapes, until at last, having decided in what dress she should
appear the most bewitching, she retired for a long sleep, so as to rest
her features and give her eyes their old-time lustre.

At about two o'clock she awakened, and, after dressing in a most
elaborate and elegant manner, at once started out upon her novel
expedition to the Arcade.

The Arcade in Rochester is a distinct and somewhat noted place in that
city. It has nearly the width of the average street, and extends the
distance of a short block--from Main Street to Exchange Place--being
nearly in the geographical, as well as in the actual business center of
the city. It is covered with a heavy glass roofing, filled on either
side by numerous book and notion stalls, brokers' offices, and the
offices of wealthy manufacturers whose business requires a down-town
office, and is also, as it has been from almost time immemorial, the
location of the post-office; so that, as the thoroughfare leads directly
from the Union Depot to the uptown hotels, it is constantly thronged
with people, and is the spot in that city where the largest crowd may be
collected at the slightest possible notice.

To Mrs. Winslow's credit it should be said that up to this time she had
kept so remarkably quiet that public scandal had nearly died away, and
as she had gone into the different newspaper offices with some of the
wicked old light burning in her eyes, and "warned" them concerning
libelling her, both she and her suit were no longer causing much remark;
but now, when she was seen majestically bearing down Main street, with
considerable fire in her fine eyes, determination in her compressed
lips, and the inspiration of resolve in every feature of her handsome
though masculine face, there were many who, knowing the woman, felt sure
there was to be a scene, and by the time she had turned from Main street
into the Arcade quite a number were unconsciously following her. After
she had got into the Arcade she attracted a great deal of attention in
sweeping back and forth through that thoroughfare, as in passing Lyon's
offices she gave her head that peculiarly ludicrous inclination that all
women affect when they are particularly anxious to be noticed, but also
particularly anxious to not have it noticed that they wish to be
noticed; and continued her promenade, each time brushing the windows of
Lyon's offices with her ample skirts, and growing more and more
indignant that nobody appeared to be interested in her exhibition, save
the lookers-on within the Arcade, who were increasing rapidly in
numbers.

This seemed to exasperate the woman beyond measure, and finally, after
casting a hurried glance or two through the half-open door, she
apparently nerved herself for the worst and made a plunge into the
office, while the crowd closed about the door.

Bristol had of course felt it his duty to inform Mr. Lyon of the fair
lady's intended demonstration, and the latter had judiciously found it
convenient to transact some important business in another part of the
city on that afternoon; but the elegant Harcout had bravely volunteered
to throw himself into the breach and bear the brunt of the battle--in
other words, sacrifice himself for his friend, and was consequently
sitting at Lyon's desk behind the railing, which formed a sort of a
private office at one side of the general office, as Mrs. Winslow, pale
with rage and humiliated to exasperation, came sweeping into the room.

"Ah, how d'ye do, ma'am?" said Harcout blandly, but never looking up
from his desk, at which he pretended to be very busily engaged. "Bless
my soul, you seem to be very much excited!"

"Sir!" said Mrs. Winslow, interrupting him violently, "I want none of
your 'madams' or 'bless my souls.' I want Lyon, you puppy!"

"Ah, exactly, exactly," replied Mr. Lyon's protector with the greatest
apparent placidity, though with a shade of nervousness in his voice;
"but you see, my dear, you can't have him!"

It was not the first time this man had called this woman "my dear," nor
was it the first time he had attempted to beat back her overpowering
passion. Had he known it as Mr. Harcout, or had she recognized him as
Mrs. Winslow, it would have made the interview more dramatic than it
was--perhaps a thread of tragedy might have crept in; as it was,
however, she only savagely retorted that she wouldn't have him, but she
would see him if he was in, whether or no.

"Well, my dear good woman," continued Harcout soothingly, but edging as
far from the railing and his caller as possible, "he isn't in, and that
settles that. Further, you can't have, or see, him _or_ his money, and
that settles that. So you had best quietly go home like a good woman and
settle all this," concluded Harcout winningly and yet impressively, and
with the tone of a Christian counsellor.

The crowd laughed and jeered at this grave and sarcastic advice, and it
seemed to madden her. Raising her closed sunshade and hissing, "_I'll_
settle this!" she rushed towards Harcout, struck at him fiercely,
following up the attack with quick and terrific blows, which completely
demolished the parasol and drove him nimbly from place to place in his
efforts to avoid the effects of her wrath.

For the next few moments there was a small whirlwind in Lyon's offices.
The railing was too high for Mrs. Winslow to leap, or she certainly
would have scaled it. Harcout could not retreat but a certain distance,
or he certainly would have sought safety in flight. So the whirlwind was
created by rapid and savage leaps of Mrs. Winslow, as if to jump the
railing and fall bodily upon her victim, and at every bound the woman
made, the shattered parasol waved aloft and came down with keen
certainty and stinging swiftness, upon such portions of the gilt-edged
gentleman as could be most conveniently reached.

It is difficult to realize what the woman would have done in her mad
passion, had not a lucky circumstance occurred. She and Harcout had
never met since the time when, in the face of her robbery of him, she
had unblushingly compelled him to wed her to the credulous Dick Hosford
at the Michigan Exchange Hotel in Detroit; and had she now recognized
him as the villain who had made her what she was, it is a question
whether she would not have made a finish of him there and then. But some
one in the crowd raised the cry of "Police!" which sobered her at once,
and, giving the tattered remnant of her sunshade a wicked pitch into
Harcout's face, she turned quickly, shot into the Arcade as the crowd
made way for her and quickened her speed by wild jibes and taunts, until
she had reached the street, where, in a dazed, hunted sort of way, she
hailed a passing cab, sprang into it, and was driven rapidly away.




CHAPTER XXI.

   Mrs. Winslow, under the Influence of "Spirits" of an earthly
      Order, becomes romantic, religious, and poetical.-- A
      Trance.-- Detective Bristol also proves a Poet.-- A Drama
      to be written.


When the evening came and Mrs. Winslow came with it, she was observed to
be in a high state of nervous and vinous excitement, and at such times
she contrived to inaugurate a series of actions which proved not only
interesting, but illustrative of her strange character.

She declared to Bristol and Fox that the Lord was hardening Lyon's heart
as in the olden times the heart of Pharaoh was hardened, so that he
should rush upon his fated disgrace as the Egyptian king rushed upon his
fate while forcing the children of Israel into deliverance, and
destruction upon himself; and like the unrelenting Mrs. Clennam in
"Little Dorrit," had at command any number of scriptural parallels to
prove the righteousness of her sin. This sort of blasphemy is the most
pitiable imaginable, and to hear the woman in her semi-intoxicated,
semi-crazed condition, mingling her vile catch-words with scraps of
spiritualistic sayings, snatches of holy songs, couplets of roystering
ballads, and crowning the hideousness of the whole with countless Bible
quotations, was to be in the presence of supreme garrulousness,
temperamental religious frenzy, and superstitious vileness.

It appeared that after she had escaped from the excitement she had
created in the Arcade, she had been driven to the apartments of every
clairvoyant of note in the city and had a "sitting" with each. In her
excited condition, and being noted for having plenty of money, it was
both easy to rob her and secure what was uppermost in her mind.
Consequently, it was revealed to her by every medium that Lyon would
settle with her for a large sum of money.

One medium averred that in her vision Lyon was seen, as it were, bending
a suppliant at her feet, and, at the last moment, admiring her character
as much as fearing the nature of the testimony he knew she could bring
against him, he declared his love for her and begged that they might be
married in open court.

Another depicted the sorrows she would be obliged to endure before her
affairs culminated. She would be watched, annoyed, harassed; but her way
would be well watched by the spirit-forms which were evidently floating
around promiscuously to protect the pests of society; and, whether she
got the man or not, she should share his fortune. This much could be
surely promised.

Another was wonderfully favored with divine "spirit light" upon the
subject--so favored, indeed, that time without number her other-life had
insensibly and unconsciously wandered away in search of correct
information regarding the result of the Winslow-Lyon suit, and, without
her volition or bidding, it had delved into the mysteries for her
suffering sister. She could assure her suffering sister, the clairvoyant
said, that Lyon was spiritually at her feet. All the trouble had arisen
between them from Mrs. Winslow's standing upon a higher spiritual plane
than Mr. Lyon. He, as was natural to man, had more of the sensual
element beclouding his spirit-life. Now, pleaded the clairvoyant,
couldn't she adjust an average between them? She was certain--yes, the
spirits, who never lie, had positively revealed to her that all that was
needed was some one to properly discover each of these affinities to the
other. In any case, all would eventually be well, and there was peace,
prosperity, and a large amount of money in waiting for her.

This sort of absurdity was related by Mrs. Winslow to an unlimited
extent that evening, as the three sipped the liquor she had provided,
and she insisted with great fervor that all these revelations strongly
corroborated the light she herself had received on the same subject.

As a long pause ensued after one of these heated asseverations, Bristol
ventured to ask how she had been enlightened concerning the matter.

Raising her flushed face towards the ceiling, then lifting her right arm
above her head and holding it there for a moment, she allowed it to
slowly descend with a coiling, serpentine motion, when she burst into a
sudden ecstasy of speech, movement and feature, and partly as in answer
to the inquiry, and partly as if struck with a swift and irresistible
inspiration, she said in a low, unearthly voice, and with weird effect:

"Yes, yes, I hear your angel voices calling; I see your beautiful forms;
I feel your tender fingers touching my aching head; I am listening to
your sweet, soft whispers. Ah! what is it you say?--yes, yes, yes! You
_are_ with me. You will watch over and guard me. You will ward off the
evil influences that surround me, and despite the darkness which
envelops me, even as the glorious sun leaps from his couch of crimson
and with his burnished lances drives the grim hosts of shadows before
him with the speed of the light!--What! are you now leaving?"

Here Mrs. Winslow gasped and kicked with her pretty feet alarmingly.

"What--what is that?--that rosy, effulgent light that fills all space?
Ah, yes! I see they beckon for me to look up, to not be cast down or
despair. I _will_ look up. See! in their hands are long, feathery wands
with which they sweep the flaming sky, while across its burnished arc I
see, yes, I see in letters of purple that oft-recurring
legend--_Twenty-five thousand dollars!_"

Now, although I am not arguing this question of Spiritualism, and am
only giving to the public the history so far as I dare of an
extraordinary woman and practical Spiritualist, I cannot resist asking
the question, or putting forward the theory, which, during the progress
of this case particularly, and a thousand times before and since in a
general way, has irresistibly forced itself into my mind. I give it in
all fairness, I am sure, and only with a view that it may dispel
certain feelings of squeamishness with which a good many people approach
the subject to investigate it. I may be accused of presenting it with
too little delicacy; but the public must recollect that the nature of my
business compels me _to get at the truth_ of things, and to do that,
matters must in a majority of cases be handled without gloves. This is
my only excuse, and perhaps it may be a good defence; but in any event
this is the question: Has there ever been a so-called Spiritual
"manifestation" that has not subsequently been explained as trickery by
persons more credible of belief than its medium or originator? After
that has been answered in the affirmative, for it can be answered in no
other way, all there is left of this Spiritualistic structure is, how
account for such exhibitions as that given by Mrs. Winslow and those
given by others of her craft, even granting their personal purity, which
is undoubtedly exceptional?

This is the question which has oftenest come into my mind in my
necessarily almost constant study of these people, and the answers,
though continually varying, have all eventually forced upon me the
conviction that this religion, as it is sacrilegiously called, only
takes hold of people of abnormal or diseased temperaments--people
diseased in mind, in morals, in body, or in all; and if that is true, as
I sincerely believe it to be, the dignifying of a disease or infirmity
as a religion is simply an absurdity too foolish for even ridicule.

She sat rigid as a church-spire for a few moments, as if the sight of
so much money, even if only in purple letters upon a burnished sky, had
transfixed her, and then, after a little hysterical struggling, became
as limp as a camp-meeting tent after a thunder-storm; and after a few
passes of her long, white and deft fingers over her eyes in a scared
way, asked, "Oh, gentlemen, where--where am I?"

"On the boundaries of the spirit-land," gravely replied Bristol, pushing
the bottle of liquor to the side of the table.

The woman was certainly exhausted, for she had worked herself into such
a state mentally--precisely the same as in all similar demonstrations,
whether visions are claimed to be seen, or not--that she was completely
enervated physically, and said in a really grateful tone, "Thank you,
Mr. Bristol," and, pouring out a large portion of liquor, tossed it off
at one gulp, like a well-practised bar-room toper.

"Yes, yes," she continued languidly, "I have a certain promise of
eventually being victorious. When the good spirits are with one, there's
no cause for fear."

"Not the slightest," affirmed Fox sympathetically.

"But it seems," replied Mrs. Winslow in a discouraged, desolate tone,
"as though everybody's hand is raised against me--as though the dreary
days pass so slowly--and that I haven't a true friend in the world!"

"My dear Mrs. Winslow," interrupted Bristol in a calm, fatherly, even
affectionate tone, "that melancholy's all very fine; but we are your
friends, and we will stand by you through thick and thin to the end of
the suit. A few fast friends, you know, are better than a thousand
sunny-weather friends."

"Oh, yes; oh, yes," returned the woman in a tone of voice that said, "I
can't argue this, but I somehow _know_ you are both betraying me," and
then, closing her eyes, and clasping her hands tightly together, sang in
a weird contralto voice, cracked and unsteady from her excitement and
exhaustion, some stanza of an evidently religious nature, the burden of
which was:

  "I am weary, weary waiting
      While the shadows deeper fall;
   I am weary, weary waiting
      For some holy voice's call!"

Undoubtedly the song, though desecrated by the singer, the place, and
the occasion, was a wailing plaint from the depths of the woman's soul,
for moments of utter desolation and absolute remorse come to even such
as she.

"Now," said Bristol, becoming suddenly interested, "I'm something of a
poet myself. When the seat of government was moved from Quebec to
Ottawa, I constructed a lampoon on the government that set all Canada
awhirl. Really, Mrs. Winslow, I'm surprised at your poetical nature."

"Poetical nature?" repeated the woman excitedly. "Why! that is what Lyon
loved in me most. My trance-sittings are wonderful exhibitions of
poetical power. In that state I can compose poems of great length and
power."

The gentlemen of course seemed incredulous at this statement, and
challenged her to a test of her poetical trance-power, which she
instantly accepted, the wager being a quart of the best brandy that
could be had in the city of Rochester.

Putting herself in position, she asked: "What subject?" Bristol replied,
"Lyon," when she struggled a little in her chair, kicked the floor a
little with her heels, rubbed up her eyes, gasped, and after a moment of
rest began to incant in a kind of monotone tenor:

  "Oh, Lyon, Lyon! don't you run;
   The suit's begun; we'll have our fun
   Before we're done. I'll tell your son
   That I have won, although you shun
       Your darling one!"

  "Oh, Lyon, pray, why speed away?
   To fight a woman is but play.
   Although you're old, and bald, and gray,
   Do right by your Amanda J.--
       You'll soon be clay!"

Amanda J. Winslow, for this was the woman's assumed name in full, might
have continued in this divine strain for an indefinite period, had not
the operatives burst into loud and prolonged laughter at her ludicrous
appearance, which so disgusted the woman that, though communicating with
celestial spheres, as she assumed to be, and undoubtedly was doing as
much as any of her craft ever did, she jumped up with a bound, savagely
told the men they were a brace of fools, and with a lively remark or
two, which had something very like an oath in it, went to bed, leaving
the men to finish the bottle and the poetry as they saw fit.

Mrs. Winslow was a thorough church-goer, and distributed the favor of
her attendance among the orthodox churches and the "meetings" of the
members of her own faith, quite fairly--perhaps, as was natural, giving
the Washington Hall Sunday evening Spiritualistic lectures a slight
preference; and soon after the Arcade affair, which had launched her
into poetry, she returned to the rooms one Sunday evening, declaring
that all her evil spirits had left her, and that her former passionate
love for Lyon had also departed, her only desire now being for his
money.

To show how thoroughly she had been dispossessed of her evil spirits,
she remarked that she now thoroughly hated Lyon, but it would not do to
let this appear on trial, or she would lose the sympathy of the jury.
Every effort should now be bent towards compelling him to divide his
wealth with her, whom he had so deeply wronged. There should be no
compromise; she would not even be led to the altar by him now. She would
have from him what would most annoy him, and that was his money.

Having resolved on this, the darkness that surrounded her was dispelled
and the spirits of light rallied as a sort of standing army; and in this
beneficent condition she wished to either go into the country to
recuperate for a few weeks, or seek the retirement of Fox's room and
there expend her superfluous brain and spirit power upon a play to be
entitled "His Breach of Promise." To this end she proposed removing the
elegant furnishings of her apartments and storing them in a spare room,
giving out to callers that she was absent from the city, and then, after
having secured Fox's room, she would be able to burn the midnight oil
unmolested so long as her inspiration might continue.

She also favored Fox and Bristol with a sketch of the play, which was to
be a sort of spectacular comedy-drama, which, according to the lady's
description, would contain certainly seven acts of five scenes each, and
would be preceded by a prologue which would play at least an hour; in
fact, it seemed that the great play "His Breach of Promise" was to be
constructed on the Chinese plan, to be continued indefinitely, and
admission only to be secured in the form of course tickets. Outside of
these great aids to the popularity of the play, it was to have the
additional startling and novel attractions of representations of her
first meeting with Lyon, his regret because she was married, his copious
tears whenever in her presence, his securing her divorce, the death of
Lyon's wife, and every manner of pathetic and ludicrous incident
connected with the case; how they each wooed and won the other,
including a grand transformation scene typical of Lyon's subsequent
treachery, and her reward of virtue in a fifty thousand dollar verdict
for damages.




CHAPTER XXII.

   Mr. Pinkerton decides to favor Mrs. Winslow with a Series of
      Annoyances.-- The mysterious Package.-- The Detectives
      labor under well-merited Suspicion.-- "My God! what's
      that?"-- The deadly Phial.-- This Time a Mysterious Box.--
      Its suggestive Contents.-- "The Thing she was."-- Tabitha,
      Amanda, and Hannah assaulted.-- A Punch and Judy Show.


The reports which I had for some time received daily regarding Mrs.
Winslow's behavior satisfied me that the delay in reaching the
Winslow-Lyon case--which was at the bottom of the docket of the fall
term, and on account of a press of court business had been put over to
the winter term--the strict silence I had enjoined upon Mr. Lyon, and
the general suspicion which possessed her of everybody and everything,
were all having the natural effect of unsettling her completely, and I
determined upon a series of surprises and annoyances to the woman,
without in any way apprising Bristol and Fox of what was to be done; so
that although they might imagine from what source the unwelcome
"materializations" came, they would still be sufficiently uninformed to
share in the general surprise and escape the charge of complicity.

I accordingly sent three additional men to Rochester with thorough
instructions and full information as to the madam's residence and
habits, with a description of her tenants, including Bristol and Fox,
who were unknown to the operatives sent.

My object in doing this was a double one. I desired, first, to test the
woman's so-called spirit power; for, should these annoyances prove of
the nature of a persecution, she and her friends, the Spiritualists,
would be able to call celestial spirits to her aid, or, better still,
divine from whence the persecution came, and compel its discontinuance
by the means provided by ordinary mortals. In case she could not do
this, which was of course rather doubtful, I knew from her
superstitiousness and the guilty fear possessed by every criminal, which
she largely shared, that she would be quite likely to either make some
confessions which would implicate her in further blackmailing
operations, or force her into a line of conduct agreeing perfectly with
her true character, and which would compel her to show herself
thoroughly to the public; and further, I think I must confess to a
slight desire to assist a little in punishing her, after I had become so
fully aware of her villainous character.

Accordingly, while Mrs. Winslow was still deep in the plot of her great
drama, but before the changes suggested--which would have made her a
sort of literary nun in Fox's room--had occurred, she was the recipient
of a large package of railway time-tables, with the farthest terminus of
each road underscored, and further called attention to by a hand and
index finger pointing towards it from Rochester, intimating that it was
either desired or demanded, on the part of somebody, that she should
leave Rochester for one of the points indicated.

When Bristol and Fox returned "home," as they had come to call their
lodgings, that evening, Mrs. Winslow was at her escritoire, completely
immersed in time-tables and manuscript, and had all the air of an
important author struggling for fitting expressions with which to clothe
some suddenly inspired, though sublime idea.

She looked at them closely a moment, as if she would read their very
thoughts. Whether seeing anything suspicious or not, she remarked very
pointedly:

"Good deal of railroad rivalry nowadays, isn't there?"

"Yes, considerable," replied Bristol pleasantly, and then asking, "Are
you going to introduce some rival railroads in your new play, Mrs.
Winslow?"

"Not much!" she answered tersely.

"I wouldn't," replied Bristol, taking a seat near the chandelier and
pulling a paper from his pocket; "they're dangerous."

Mrs. Winslow paid no attention to this, but suddenly eyed Fox, and
sharply asked:

"They like very much to sell through tickets, don't they?"

"I believe they do--ought to pay better," he promptly rejoined, eyeing
her in return.

"Well," said she, after a slight pause, and as if with something of a
sigh, "it's all right, perhaps; but if either of you should meet any
railroad agent who seems to be laboring under the delusion that I want
to found a colony in some far country, just tell him to expend his
energies in some other direction!"

Of course my operatives were surprised, and demanded an explanation; but
the recipient of the circulars was quite dignified, and would only clear
the matter up by occasional little passionate bursts of confidence, as
if finding fault with them for not being able to unravel the mystery to
her. They protested they knew nothing about the matter, and she
undoubtedly believed them; but she ventured to inform them that if
anybody--mind you, anybody--supposed they could scare her away from
Rochester by any such hint as that, they were mightily mistaken, that's
all there was about _that_.

My detectives allayed her fears as much as possible, but it was plainly
observable that she was really annoyed by the occurrence. There is
always a hundred times more terror in the fear of unknown evil than in
that which we can boldly meet, and this particularly applies to those
who know they _deserve_ punishment, as in Mrs. Winslow's case.

The next evening they were all sitting discussing general topics and a
pint of peach brandy, and had become exceedingly sociable, particularly
over the railroad circulars, which Fox and Bristol had by this time
induced her to regard in the light of a huge joke, or error, when the
party were suddenly startled by some object which caused a peculiar
ringing, yet deadened sound, as it struck the partly-opened door and
then bounded upon the carpet where it glisteningly rolled out of sight
under the sofa where the thoroughly-scared Mrs. Winslow sat.

"My God! what's that?" she screamed, rushing to the door and peering
down the staircase, as rapidly retreating footsteps were distinctly
heard; but not being able to discover anybody, scrambled back into the
room, shutting and bolting the door behind her.

The woman was deathly pale, the color brought to her face by the brandy
having been driven from it as if by some terrible blow; but it came back
with her into the room, where Bristol and Fox _appeared_ nearly as
frightened as she.

She looked at them a moment in a dazed, stupefied way, and then
demanded: "What does this mean?"

"That's what I'd like to know!" returned Bristol, hunting for his
quizzers, which he had lost in his jump from his chair. "This is all
very fine, but it's pretty plain somebody here's sent for!"

"And _I_ don't want to go!" chimed in Fox, climbing down from a safe
position upon the _escritoire_.

The three looked at each other in an extremely suspicious way, and the
woman again demanded, this time threateningly, what it all meant.

[Illustration: _The three looked at each other in an extremely
suspicious way.--_]

"Something with a glitter, and it rolled under there," was all Bristol
could tell her about it.

"Let's get it, whatever it is!" said Fox, with an apparent burst of
bravery and spirit.

So Bristol at one end and Fox at the other end of the sofa, rolled it
out with a great show of caution, while Mrs. Winslow, though
preserving a good position for observation, kept nimbly out of the way.

"What can it be?" she persisted excitedly.

"A vial sealed with red wax, with a string attached, and containing some
clear liquid," said Fox, stooping to pick it up.

"Don't--don't, Fox!" shouted Bristol, pushing him back impetuously; "the
devilish thing may burst and kill us all--nitro-glycerine, you know!"

Mrs. Winslow shuddered, drew her elegant wrappings about her fair
shoulders, as if the thought chilled her like the sudden opening of some
cold vault, and looked appealingly at the two men.

"Or might contain some deadly poison," said Fox, in a warning tone.

"And the fiend who threw it in here expected the bottle to break and the
poison to murder us!" said Mrs. Winslow indignantly.

"Things have come to a pretty pass when attempts like this are made on
people's lives!" said Bristol, adjusting his spectacles and edging
towards the mysterious missile.

"I shall move at once," stoutly affirmed Mrs. Winslow.

"Don't do any such thing," said Fox earnestly. "That will only show
whoever may be committing these indignities that we are alarmed by
them."

"We?--_we?_" repeated the adventuress, with a peculiar accent upon the
word "we." "It isn't you men that is meant. It's _me_. This is some of
that Lyon's doings. Oh, I could cut his heart out!"

The detectives saw that she was getting greatly excited, and Bristol,
with a view of quieting her as much as possible for the night, picked up
the vial by a string tied to it and hung it upon a nail, remarking that
he was something of a chemist himself and didn't believe it was
explosive, and also expressed a conviction that Mrs. Winslow should have
it analyzed.

To this she acceded, and expressed a determination to "get even" with
the author of these outrages, in which laudable resolve the detectives
promised to assist her; but the peach brandy seemed the only relief
possible to Mrs. Winslow for the remainder of the evening, which was
chiefly passed in wild speculations and theories concerning the new
"manifestations," which she began to fear might be the result of jealous
clairvoyants and vindictive spiritualists, who had endeavored to
blackmail both herself and Mr. Lyon, and, failing in this, were now
persecuting her.

The next day Mrs. Winslow went out quietly and secured the services of a
chemist under the Osborne House, who pronounced the contents nothing but
water, which proved a great relief to the agitated trio, but did not
remove from Mrs. Winslow's mind the anxiety and unrest that these
undesired and unlooked-for materializations were causing.

About noon, after Fox and Bristol had come in from a little stroll and
they were all laughing over the scare of the previous evening, a step
was heard on the stairs, and soon after a little man with a big box on
his shoulder, and a slouched hat on his head which hid his face pretty
thoroughly, came to the head of the stairs, knocked at the door, and
without waiting for an invitation to come in, entered, and depositing
the box with the remark, "For Mrs. Winslow, from the Misses Grim,"
spryly sprang back, shut the door, and clattered away down the stairs
and into the street before Mrs. Winslow could get a second look at him,
though she sprang after him, shouting, "Here! here! come back here or
I'll have you arrested!" But he only clattered away the livelier, and
she returned to the room raging and vowing that the box contained some
infernal machine for the purpose of distributing minute portions of her
anatomy all over the city of Rochester.

This became more likely when Mrs. Winslow recollected that the Misses
Grim--Tabitha, Amanda, and Hannah--were the three old maids from whom
she had thought she had secured a wealthy old banker to pluck; and
though he had proven to her a very ordinary man, somewhat infirm from
rheumatism, and a trifle quarrelsome, though eminently virtuous and
punctilious, she had never, of course, let them know how badly she had
been swindled; and as they yet regarded their lost boarder, Bristol, as
a priceless treasure, lost to them through her perfidy, it was no more
than natural, Mrs. Winslow thought, that in their chagrin and
disappointment they should concoct some diabolical plan to injure her.

But still it might not be from them. She had other enemies, many of
them, and the Misses Grim's name might have been given to cover up some
other person's misdeeds. But whatever it might be, her curiosity soon
overcame her fear, and she requested Fox to open it.

After securing a hammer from his room, the latter proceeded to open the
mysterious box; but after the cover had been partially drawn and it was
evident that the box had not been delivered for the purpose of
exterminating anybody, it occurred to its fair owner that there might be
something within it not desirable for her to let the gentlemen see,
whereupon she requested them to retire; but after Bristol had
grumblingly disappeared, and Fox had got to the door, she recalled the
latter and asked him anxiously if he would not open it for her. He
gallantly agreed to, and got down on his knees upon the carpet and began
taking off the cover.

"I do wonder what it can be!" said Mrs. Winslow anxiously.

"I can't find anything but bran," returned Fox, digging about the box
carefully.

"Bran!" she exclaimed incredulously; "that box is too heavy for bran."

Fox dug away for a little while longer and finally shouted, "I've got
something!"

"And what is that something?"

The question was answered by the thing itself, which now appeared from
the bottom of the box, vigorously lifted by Fox's hand and plumped
through the bran upon the carpet.

"Well, what is it?" she demanded.

"Vegetable," said Fox tersely.

"Oh, pshaw! is _that_ all?" asked the disgusted woman.

"Yes, that's all," he replied, after digging about in the bran for a
moment. Mrs. Winslow also satisfied herself that it was all by searching
in the bran, and the two then proceeded to investigate the vegetable.

"It's a turnip, and somebody's been digging in it," said Mrs. Winslow.

"I think you are mistaken," mildly interposed Fox. "It's something else
entirely."

"What's this!" exclaimed the woman; "sure as I live, a cross-bones and
skull on one side, and on the other side, 'D-e-a-d'--dead!"

"It isn't dead turnip!" interrupted Fox.

"Dead beet?" she asked musingly, a sudden crimson flooding into her
face.

"Shouldn't wonder," he answered.

Biting her lips she glided to a window. It was a cold autumn day, and
the panes rattled drearily as she seemed to shrink and hide between them
and the heavy curtains, while the color came and went hotly in her face.
It hurt her, wounded her, showed her to be the thing she was in a way
that could never have been effected by ten thousand innuendoes or direct
charges; and she pressed her face against the cold panes as if to force
and drive away the hideous picture that a momentarily honest glimpse of
herself had revealed to her, and continued standing thus, buried in the
memories which build remorse, until, noticing the thing in her hand
which had caused this humiliation, she flung it violently across the
room, and rushing into her sleeping-room, hastily prepared for going
out, then dashing through the reception-room, she passed into the hall,
and meeting Bristol, said:

"Bristol, I want you to come with me!"

Bristol immediately complied, but was given a lively chase, for Mrs.
Winslow was strong of limb, fleet of foot, and, on this occasion, was
impelled by a burst of spirit which, if rightly directed, would have led
a conquering army.

She started directly for Main Street, and turned up that thoroughfare at
a pace which attracted considerable attention. After rapidly walking two
blocks she swept across the street, and after having waited for Bristol
to come up with her, plunged into the little restaurant under Washington
Hall, with my operative close at her heels.

The sudden entrance of the couple caused a great commotion in the quaint
little eating-room, and the drowsy customers smiled when they saw the
unaccustomed form of the woman whom the Misses Grim--Tabitha, Amanda and
Hannah--had taken no trouble to prevent being known as her deadly enemy.

Tabitha, the most ancient, at once bristled up and took a position
behind her neat counter, her wrinkled head trembling with so much
excitement that her sparse curls created a kind of quivering nimbus
about it.

"Well, ma'am and what can _I_ do for _you_?" asked Tabitha with a flaunt
of her head and a sarcastic tinge in her voice.

Mrs. Winslow got to the counter in two or three quick jumps or starts,
and asked, husky with rage, "I--I just want to know which one of you old
straws sent that box to me?"

"Box to _you_!" jerked out Amanda, the next less ancient of the Misses
Grim, who had just entered and at once stopped stock still to catch Mrs.
Winslow's remark; "box to you? Tush!--box to nobody!" and she too sidled
in behind the counter to reinforce, and tremble with, her very old
sister.

"Oh, you can't play your innocence on me!" retorted Mrs. Winslow very
violently. "You wear very white collars, and very black caps and very
straight dresses, and look very saintly, but you're just three old
witches; that's what you are!"

"Pooh, pooh!" snorted Tabitha and Amanda hysterically.

"Pooh, pooh! if you like; but if I find out which one of you sent that
box, I'll--I'll shake every bone in her old body into a match!" shouted
Mrs. Winslow, dancing up and down against the counter and working her
fingers savagely.

"Match?" responded Hannah, the least ancient and most fiery of the three
virgins, and who entered at this critical moment; "match indeed! you're
a match for anything villainous!" and then she too trotted behind the
counter to throw the weight of her presence into the conflict.

By this time the interested customers had gathered around, and people
from the street, noticing the unwonted enthusiasm awakened in the
Washington Hall restaurant, were rapidly collecting upon the outside and
flattening their curious noses against the intervening panes.

Mrs. Winslow could no more control herself than could the old maids, and
quickened by the presence of the increasing crowd, burst into a
screaming demand for the person who sent the "dead" beet to her.

"Dead beat!--ha, ha, ha!" laughed the three sisters convulsively, at
once realizing the appropriateness of the joke and excitedly enjoying
it; "dead beat, eh? we didn't do it!" "But," added Hannah, maliciously,
"if you do find the person as did send it, Mrs. Winslow, and will send
'em around, we'll board 'em for a month free!"

There was war, direful war, imminent; and no one could imagine what
might have resulted had the conflict of tongues culminated in a conflict
of hands. But to have seen the three ancient, prim, and trembling women
on the one side, and the ponderous, though handsome Mrs. Winslow on the
other--the old maids either with arms akimbo or with hands firmly
clenched upon the counter's edge as if to compel restraint, their bodies
weaving back and forth, their heads bobbing up and down, and their stray
frills and curls wildly dancing as if each particular hair was in a mad
ecstasy of its own; and Mrs. Winslow, upon her side of the counter, in a
perfect frenzy of excitement, stamping her feet, jumping backward and
forward, bringing her clenched hand down upon the counter with terrible
force for a woman, and shaking it furiously at the agitated row of old
maids, would be to have witnessed a marvellous improvement upon any
form of the Punch and Judy show ever exhibited.

[Illustration: _"A marvelous improvement over any form of the Punch and
Judy show ever exhibited."--_]

Bristol saw that unless they were separated he would become implicated
in a case of assault and battery, and after great effort pacified the
women sufficiently to enable him to pilot his landlady out of the
restaurant, through the streets and finally into her own apartments,
where she passed the remainder of the dreary day in weeping, storms of
baffled rage, or protracted applications to the spirits which can be
controlled, whether one is a spiritualist or not, so long as money lasts
and total prohibition is not enforced.




CHAPTER XXIII.

   Cast down.-- "Trifles."-- A charitable Offering.--
      Dreariness.-- Going Crazy.-- An interrupted Seance.-- A
      new Form of the Devil.-- The Red-herring Expedition and
      its Result.-- A mad Dutchman.-- Desolation.-- An order for
      a Coffin.-- The sympathizing Undertaker, Mr. Boxem.


Mrs. Winslow now began to show great perturbation of spirits. In
conversation with my detectives, who endeavored to cheer her up and lead
her to regard these surprises as mere jokes not worth any person's
notice, she constantly argued the opposite, and thus arguing, conjured
up countless possibilities of harm, gradually working herself into that
condition of mind where every little unusual noise or movement of any
person in the building or upon the street was a signal for some
querulous inquiry or complaint.

She was also very much worried concerning her suit, and went about among
the Spiritualists seeking their advice and encouragement, and giving and
receiving a good deal of scandal concerning the case. From one she would
hear that Lyon was employing certain other mediums in his behalf, and
that she had better look out for them. Another would inform her that
Lyon had several other mistresses, among them a Miss Susie Roberts, and
a Madame La Motte, both Spiritualists and mediums, from whom Lyon
intended to prove her bad character, and whom she, in turn, vowed she
would have subpoenaed in her own behalf, and impeach their testimony
through what she could compel them to admit of both themselves and Lyon.
At other places she learned that these persecutions were Lyon's work
entirely, or rather, the work of his agents, principal among whom were
the two ladies mentioned. And, in fact, wherever she went she heard or
found something to give her uneasiness or cause her unrest.

"Yes," she said sadly to my operatives, "I can't stand this sort of
thing much longer."

"Oh, nonsense!" rejoined Bristol; "you haven't been hurt, have you?"

"No; but I can't tell when I shall be. That's what I can't bear."

"But I thought you were a woman of too great force of character to allow
trifles to trouble you," exclaimed Fox tauntingly.

"Trifles!" said she hotly; "trifles! Is expecting every moment to be
murdered, or blown up, a trifle? Is fearing that everything you taste
will poison you, or everything you touch do you deadly harm, a trifle?"

"People will think you deserve to be annoyed if you show them you are
annoyed," argued Fox.

"I have long since ceased to care what people think. Sometimes I am sure
I hate every human being; and I do believe the more the world hates me,
the more money I make. If these things are not stopped soon, I tell
you," she continued in a tone of voice that seemed to say they could
stay the annoyances if they would, "I'll go to St Louis and attend to my
cases there!"

This opened the eyes of my operatives, and they simultaneously conveyed
the intimation to each other that careful working might secure some
information about any St. Louis cases the woman might have which would
be desirable; and in a short time, by gradually leading Mrs. Winslow on,
they discovered that the brazen adventuress, according to her own story,
had pending no less than seven cases in the Circuit Court at St. Louis,
every one of them being suits on some trivial, trumped-up charge.

It seemed fated that Mrs. Winslow should leave Rochester, if her
remaining depended upon these mysterious offerings ceasing, for while
they were yet in conversation upon the subject, a  porter called
with a great basket-load of provisions, and without a word, after
spreading a newspaper upon the carpet, began unloading his store.

"In heaven's name, who sent you here with those?" she entreated of the
<DW52> gentleman.

"It's all right; it's all right," he said soothingly, and winking hard
at my operatives.

"But it isn't all right; it's all wrong!" she retorted, warming.

"Guess not, missus; lemme see: Quart split peas, quart beans, one
punking, jug m'lasses, 'n a mackerel. Done got 'em all, sure!"

"Where did they come from, you black imp?" the woman demanded,
advancing threateningly.

He grabbed his basket quickly, and, slowly retreating towards the door,
winked again very knowingly at Bristol and Fox, tapped his forehead and
shook his head deploringly, and then nodded towards Mrs. Winslow, very
plainly saying in pantomime, "Poor thing!--badly demented!" and, as Mrs.
Winslow, in the excess of her anger, made a dive at him, he sprang back
through the door, ejaculating, "Lo'd, _ain't_ she crazy, though!" and
made good his escape, laughing with that expression of complete
enjoyment which only an Ethiopian can give.

Mrs. Winslow was now thoroughly convinced that the two men who had been
her constant companions of late had had something to do with annoying
her, and she cunningly followed the <DW64> to the store where he was
employed, where she at once sharply questioned the proprietor, who told
her just as sharply that only a few minutes before, a ministerial-looking
man, claiming to be city missionary for some church up-town, called and
purchased the goods, remarking that they were for some crazy woman
living in the block next to Meech's opera-house, whom he had just
visited, and found to be possessed of the peculiar mania that she would
receive no provisions save in full dress in the presence of her
physicians, and that it was his desire to so humor her. So he had
entrusted the errand to the <DW52> man, who had carried out the
instructions given him; and that that was all there was about it.

When she returned crestfallen to the apartments, and Bristol and Fox
had heard her story, they so derided it, claiming that the groceryman
had fallen in love with her and invented the story upon the spur of the
moment, fearing to disclose his languishing affection, she now believed
that they were innocent of complicity in the matter and seemed to lapse
into a bewildered sort of condition, where she would wander about the
rooms, suspiciously pass and repass my operatives and searchingly
scrutinize their faces, and for long periods stand at the dreary window
peering into the street as if into a dead blank, never noticing the
scurrying snow-flakes which were coming as a silent prelude to another
winter, and only occasionally breaking the silence by murmuring, "Crazy?
crazy? Yes, I _shall_ become so if these terrible things are not
stopped!"

But Mrs. Winslow had seen too much of life and was too hard a citizen
generally to be terribly borne down by these manifestations for any
great length of time, though they completely overpowered her at their
occurrence, and she was allowed to become quite cheery before being
favored with another materialization, which came in the following
manner.

They were having a pleasant little seance in the rooms one evening soon
after the  grocery porter had accused Mrs. Winslow of being
crazy, and the several ladies and gentlemen collected there were engaged
in communing with the Spiritualistic heaven in the old and very common
table-rapping method. They were, as a rule, lank, lean people, the
ladies wearing short hair, and the gentlemen wearing long hair. This,
with a few other affectations and irregularities, was nothing against
them, had it not been equally as true that, according to my operatives'
subsequent inquiries, every member of this company was either living in
open adultery or practising all manner of lewdness without even the
convenient cloak of an assumption or pretension that the marriage
relations existed. But, good or bad as they were, they were at the
threshold of heaven, and had very appropriately darkened the room to get
as near to it as possible without being seen, and only the faintest
possible jet flickered in the chandelier. They had all, save Mrs.
Winslow, been served with a message, and she was now the inquirer,
solemnly asking of another medium some information from the dear
departed from over the river.

"Shall I soon receive word from an absent friend?"--(evidently meaning
Le Compte, who had disappeared a month or two previous). Three
affirmative raps followed.

"Shall I succeed in my case against Lyon?" The spirits were certain that
she would.

"Shall I be rewarded for all my trouble?" she asked, waiting tremblingly
for an answer.

To this inquiry three thundering raps were heard at the door.

What could it mean?

The members of the little circle were completely unnerved. And it was
not strange either. Here were nearly a dozen people closely huddled in
the centre of a room so dark that only the dim, indistinct outline of
any person, or thing, could be seen in the ghostly gloaming. They
believed, pretended they believed, or acquiesced in the belief or
pretension, that they were in direct communication with the spirit-land.

In the most ridiculous condition of mind which any person might enter
into such a performance, the secrecy and mysteriousness of the seance,
the hushed silence, the darkness, and that tension of the mind caused by
a constant expectation of some startling manifestation, will compel in
the most sceptical mind a strange feeling of solemnity akin to awe; so
that when Mrs. Winslow's last inquiry was answered so pat, as well as
with such an alarming loudness, the entire company sprang to their feet,
and on this occasion there was genuine surprise in the faces of my
detectives.

Bang, bang, bang! came the second series of raps, which promised Mrs.
Winslow she should be "rewarded for all her trouble."

But the answer, in the way it came, didn't seem to satisfy her. Somebody
stepped to the chandelier and turned on the light, which showed all the
company to have been considerably startled; but the hostess was white
from fear.

"Won't _somebody_ see what new form of the devil has been sent here to
annoy me?" she asked passionately.

Fox, as "somebody," stepped briskly to the door and turned the key just
as the first "Bang!" of another series of raps was begun, and opening
it quickly discovered a dapper young fellow with a big black bottle held
by the neck in his hand, which was raised for the purpose of giving the
door bang number two.

In response to Fox's loud and sharp inquiry as to what on earth was
wanted, he reversed the position of the bottle with the dexterity of a
bar-tender, took from the floor a huger basket than that brought by the
 porter, and slipping into the room, nodded familiarly to Mrs.
Winslow, and then coolly to the company, after which he quietly
proceeded to unload his store.

"Great heavens!" said she despairingly, "I _don't_ want those things
left here. I have no need for anything of the kind. I take my meals at
the Osborne House!"

"Gettin' 'toney' lately!" responded the intruder with a shrug, piling
the packages up neatly in one corner and taking no heed of her expressed
wish concerning them.

There was no response to this, and he resumed in a light and airy tone:
"Times has changed, Mrs. ----; eh? What _was_ it at Memphis and Helena,
anyhow?"

This reference to the less aristocratic, though quite as respectable,
vocation of a female camp-follower, though it caused the woman to change
color rapidly, only brought from her the remark, "I don't know what you
mean, sir! I'll get even with whoever is responsible for this
outrage"--here she glared around upon the company as if to ascertain
whether any one present was guilty--"if it costs me a thousand dollars!"

The new-comer only smiled sarcastically at this and checked off his
packages, concluding the operation by carefully counting two dozen red
herrings, whose aroma was sufficient to announce their presence if he
had not exhibited them at all; while members of the company looked about
them and at each other as if for some explanation of the strange
proceeding.

Finally, Mrs. Winslow, with a mighty effort to restrain herself,
advanced and asked the young man if he would not please give her the
name of the person to whom she was indebted for the articles.

He arose, and smiling blandly, remarked, "You didn't used to be so
particular about presents and such things!" Then he added with a meaning
leer: "At Helena and St. Louis, ye know, old girl!"

"Old girl!" the ladies all screamed. "Why what _does_ this mean, Mrs.
Winslow?"

"Nothing, nothing!" she replied hastily; and then she hurried the too
talkative young fellow away, and came back into the room with a show of
gayety. But it broke up the little party, and soon after the ladies,
with frigid excuses about not having very much time, and the gentlemen,
with peculiar glances out of the corners of their eyes towards the woman
who had been so familiarly termed an "old girl," took their departure,
leaving Bristol, Fox, Mrs. Winslow and the melancholy pile of packages
surmounted by aromatic red herrings in a state of solemn, moody silence.

Bristol was first to break the stillness, which he did by asking rather
testily:

"You think Fox and I have had something to do with this, don't you?"

She looked at him a moment as if she would read his innermost thoughts,
and replied: "No, I don't! It comes from some of those strumpets of
mediums, and I would give a good deal--a good deal, mind you,
Bristol!--to know who it was. I'd--I'd----"

"What would you do?" asked Fox, putting her on her mettle for a savage
answer.

"I would either burn them out, poison them, push them over the falls, or
lie in wait for them and shoot them!"

Mrs. Winslow said this with as much sincerity and coolness as if giving
an estimate on any ordinary business transaction, and evidently meant
it.

"Oh, you wouldn't kill anybody, Winslow," replied Fox airily.

"Wouldn't I, though, Mr. Fox?" she rejoined with the old glitter in her
eyes and paleness upon her upper lip that had at an earlier period
worried the Rev. Mr. Bland; "wouldn't I? If you had fifty thousand
dollars in your trunk, I would kill you, appropriate the money, cut you
up and pack you in the trunk and ship you to the South--or some other
hot climate by the next express!"

She was just as earnest about the remark as she would have been in
carrying out the act; and after Fox had congratulated himself, both
aloud cheerfully and in his own mind very thankfully, that neither his
trunk, or for that matter his imagination, contained any such gorgeous
sum, he went to his own room for the night, leaving the very excited
Mrs. Winslow and the very calm Mr. Bristol to contemplate the groceries
and each other.

After a few minutes' brown study she suddenly turned to her companion
with: "Bristol, you and I are pretty good friends, aren't we?"

"Certainly," he replied.

"And haven't I always treated you pretty well?"

"Yes; with one exception."

"What is that?"

"The sleep-walking you did in my room."

"Oh, that's nothing, Bristol. Never happened but once, and won't occur
again. Otherwise I have treated you pretty well, haven't I?"

Bristol felt compelled to confess that she had.

"Well, then," she continued wheedlingly, "will you do me a favor?"

"What is it?"

"I want you to take a walk with me."

"Pretty late, Winslow, pretty late; nearly ten o'clock," replied the
detective, looking at his watch.

"The later the better," she replied earnestly. "I want to use those
herrings."

"Use those herrings! Why, there are at least two dozen. How on earth
will you use them all?"

"Some of these humbug mediums," replied Mrs. Winslow in a style of
expression that showed her to be very familiar with the Spiritualists,
"or old Lyon himself, have sent me these things. I'm going to adorn the
door knob of every one of their places with a string of herrings. In
that way I'll hit the right one sure. Come, won't you go?"

Bristol saw that the woman would go anyhow, and fearing that she might
get into some trouble that would cause her arrest and thus expose him
and Bristol to public notice, which a capable detective will always
avoid, consented to accompany the woman, which so pleased her that she
immediately sent out for brandy, and not only imbibed an inordinate
amount of it herself, but also pressed it upon Bristol unsparingly.

Her mind seemed filled with the idea that Lyon had become the "affinity"
of nearly every female medium of prominence in the city in order to
further his designs against her; and to remind them that they were
watched, she had Bristol write "Lyon-La Motte," "Lyon-Roberts," "Lyon-
----," etc., upon about a half-dozen couples of herrings, and upon all
the rest, save those intended for the Misses Grim, which were labelled
"Tabitha, Amanda, and Hannah," she had written the names of the
different ladies who, in her imagination, had supplanted her, and tied
all the herrings so labelled together with one very dilapidated herring
marked "Lyon." It is needless to say that the latter bundle of sarcasm
was intended for the ornamentation of Mr. Lyon's residence.

Bristol felt like a very bad thief, and Mrs. Winslow acted like a very
foolish one. The moment they gained the street she began a series of
absurd performances that well-nigh distracted Bristol and greatly
increased the danger of police surveillance. She laughed hysterically,
chuckled, and expressed her delight in a noisy effort to repress it,
until the tears would roll down her face. Occasionally they would meet
or pass parties who knew her, who would say to companions, in the tone
and manner with which they would have probably spoken of other
sensations, "There's the Winslow!" when she would shrink and shudder up
to Bristol's side, begging for the shelter and protection of his
capacious cloak. Again, imagining she saw somebody following them, or
was sure that loungers lingering in deserted doorways or at the entrance
to dark hallways or alleys were detectives on their trail, she would
give the patient Bristol such nudges as nearly took his breath away,
and, at his lively protest, would whimper and tremble like a querulous
child.

Their first work was to be done on State Street, near Main, and when
they had arrived at a certain hallway, Mrs. Winslow insisted that
Bristol should accompany her to the rooms which she desired to decorate.
This he flatly refused to do, when she began moaning something about
want of spirit, and then, with a sudden gathering of the admirable
quality for her own use, stole quietly up stairs and in a moment after
came plunging down, as if the inmates of the entire block had turned out
to give her chase. But this was not the case, and the expedition
progressed without any developments of note, Mrs. La Motte, Miss Susie
Roberts, and the Misses Grim being properly remembered, until they
arrived at Mr. Lyon's residence, some little distance from the thickly
settled portions of the city.

The house was one of the rambling, moss-covered buildings of ancient
style and structure, and was set back from the road some distance among
a score of trees quite as grand and ancient as the mansion itself; and
the old pile did have a gloomy appearance to the adventurous couple that
paused breathlessly before the gates.

"Bristol," said Mrs. Winslow shiveringly, "do you know that sometimes,
when I see that great black pile up there, I'm glad he didn't marry me?"

"Why?" her companion impatiently asked. He was getting cold and tired,
and was in no condition to appreciate maudlin melancholy.

"Because I'm sure I'd die in the old rack-o'-bones of a place; and
besides that, I'm sure there are spooks there!"

"Pooh, pooh!" sneered Bristol angrily; "go along and attend to your
business, or I'll go back and leave you!"

Thus admonished, the sentimental lady proceeded with her work.

For some reason the gate was very hard to open, and considerable time
was consumed in getting into the grounds. Then it was a long walk to the
house. Bristol anxiously watched the woman move slowly along the broad
walk until she disappeared in the shadows which surrounded the house and
the darkness of the night; and it seemed an age to him, as he stamped
his feet as hard as he dare upon the stone pavement and whipped his
hands about his shoulders to drive away the chilliness which he found
creeping on.

He heard her footsteps first, then saw her emerge from the gloom, and
finally saw her stop as if to listen. He also listened very intently,
and thought he heard somebody moving about the house; and was
immediately satisfied of the correctness of his hearing by noticing that
Mrs. Winslow suddenly turned towards the road and made remarkably good
time to the gate, which, feeling sure of trouble, he made strenuous
efforts to open.

"For heaven's sake, Bristol," she gasped, "why _don't_ you open this
gate. I'll be eaten up with the dogs, and we'll both be caught!"

The last clause of Mrs. Winslow's remark roused Bristol to a vigorous
exercise of his muscle. He tugged away at the gate, shook it, threw
himself against it from one side, and his companion threw herself
against it from the other side; but all in vain. Not a moment was to be
lost. Lights were seen flashing to and fro in the great mansion, angry
voices came to them, with the by nowise cheering short, gruff, savage
responses of loosened bulldogs, and in a moment more the front door was
passed by two men and as many dogs that came dashing out in full
pursuit.

Matters at the gate were approaching a crisis. The gate could not be
opened, and Mrs. Winslow must pass it or get captured.

"Climb or die!" urged Bristol, reaching through the pickets of the
gate, which was a high one, and lifting on the portly form of the
excited woman.

"I will, Bristol!" she returned, with a gasp.

And she did climb!

[Illustration: _"And she did climb!"--_]

It was best that she did so, as a good deal of trouble was coming down
that brick walk like a small hurricane, and it would logically strike
her in a position and from a direction that would not enable her to
respond; and if either or both of those dogs had been able to have
grasped the situation, partially impaled as she was upon the pickets,
the fascinating Mrs. Winslow would have fallen an easy prey.

She was very clumsy about it, but in her desperation she in some way
managed to scale the gate, leaving a good portion of her skirts and
dress flying signals of distress upon the pickets, and finally fell into
Bristol's arms. It was a moment when silk and fine raiment were as
bagatelle in the estimate of chances for escape, and it was but the work
of an instant for Bristol to tear her like a ship from her fastenings
and make a grand rush towards home.

Those portions of Mrs. Winslow's garments which were left flaunting upon
the gate not only set the dogs wild, but served to detain them. The men
were also halted a minute by the natural curiosity they awakened, after
which they made a furious onslaught upon the gate, that only yielded
after sufficient time had elapsed to enable the culprits to get some
distance ahead, when the men and dogs started pell-mell down the street
after them.

Bristol fortunately remembered that when they were nearing Lyon's
house, he had noticed that the door leading to an alley in the rear of a
pretentious residence had been blown open and was then swaying back and
forth in the wind. With the advantage in the chase given by the dog's
criticism upon Mrs. Winslow's wearing apparel and the men's hinderance
at the gate, they were able to seek shelter here, which they did with
the utmost alacrity, fastening the gate behind them, where they
tremblingly listened to the pursuers tearing by.

Mrs. Winslow insisted on immediately rushing out and taking the other
direction, but Bristol, feeling sure that the party would go but a short
distance, held on to her until the two men returned with the dogs,
swearing at their luck, and telling each other wonderful tales of
burglaries that never took place, while Bristol thoughtfully put in the
time by making Mrs. Winslow's skirts as presentable as possible, by the
aid of the pins which every prudent man carries under the right-hand
collar of his coat, and hurriedly ascertaining from her that she had
unfortunately tied the herrings upon the door-bell instead of the
door-knob, thus involving pursuit.

After everything had become quiet, and Bristol had made several
expeditions of observation to doubly assure himself of the coast being
clear, the couple stole cautiously out of the alley into the deserted
street, and after much precaution and many alarms, caused by the
creaking of signs, the sudden flaring of gas-lamps, and the fierce gusts
of wind dashing after and into them around the sharp corners of
buildings, they at last arrived at home past midnight; and, having
ordered it as they neared the block, for a half-hour longer they sipped
hot toddy by a rousing coal fire, recounting their exploits of the
night, and eventually retiring with something of the spirit of
conquerors upon them.

Down came the snow and the wind next morning, two things which will
usually in early winter call a whole cityful out of bed, and set the
human tides in a rapid motion. Fox and Bristol had long before got into
the streets and had heartily enjoyed some newspaper items, one
recounting racily the outrage of labeled herrings being hung to the
door-knobs of the houses of many respectable citizens, and another,
under glaring head-lines, giving the minutest details of a desperate
attempt at burglary of Mr. Lyon's house, and a double-leaded editorial
which agonizedly asked in every variety of form, "Where are our police?"
But Mrs. Winslow, from her adventures and toddy of the previous night,
slept late and long, and when she did come creeping out into the
sleeping-room, half dressed and altogether unlovely in disposition and
appearance, she looked out upon the snow-flakes and the crowds of people
without any emotion save that of anger at being aroused.

The only thing to be seen of anything like an unusual object was a very
large load of hay standing at the entrance of the building; but of
course this had no particular interest to a Spiritualist. She had had a
half-formed impression that she had heard knocking at the door, and she
turned from the window to ascertain whether that impression had been
correct. Throwing a shawl about her head and shoulders, she unlocked the
door and peered out cautiously. There was nobody there, and the wind
whistled up the stairs so drearily that she closed the door with a slam,
and after starting up the fire, which was slumbering on the hearth, she
crept into bed again.

She had no more than got at the drowsy threshold of dreamland than she
was startled by a loud knocking, this time proceeding from something
besides an impression of the mind, each knock being accompanied by some
lively expression of German impatience. The demonstration was
intelligible, if the words were not, and Mrs. Winslow bounded out of her
bed and into the reception-room in no pleasant frame of mind.

On protecting her form as much as her indelicate disposition
required--and that was not much--she flung the door open and savagely
asked:

"What's wanted?"

"Ef you keep a man skivering and frozing to died mit der vind und
schnow-vlakes, I guess mebby I charge more as ten dollars a don for
'em!"

He was all smiles at first, but he resented her brusque manner as
swiftly and severely as he could with his broken brogue. He was an
honest, broad-shouldered, big-headed German farmer, and though wrapped
and wound from head to foot in woollens, the only thing that seemed warm
about him was his glowing pipe and his disturbed temper. He shook his
head at the woman, and again began a stammering recital of his wrongs,
when she cut him short with:

"You're crazy!"

"Grazy? Of I make a foolishness of a fellar like as you do--well, dot's
all right!" and he stood up very straight and puffed great clouds of
smoke past her into her elegant room.

She had got a stolid customer on hand, and she saw it. So she asked him
civilly what he wanted at _her_ door.

"Yust told me vere ish der parn, und I don't trouble you no more."

"Whose barn?"

"Vere der hay goes."

"Hay? What hay? I don't know anything about any hay," she replied,
laughing at his perplexity.

"I shtand here an hour already, und ven I got you up no satisfagtion
comes. Py Shupiter, dot goes like a schwindle!"

He was very mad by this time, and walked back and forth in front of her
door, shaking his fists and gesticulating wildly; and to prevent a
scene, which might cause a collection of the inmates of the building,
she quieted him as much as possible, and ascertained that some obliging
person, more enthusiastic about the amount than the character of some
token of esteem, had taken the trouble to order a load of hay to be
delivered at her number, describing the place, room, and woman so
minutely that there could be no possibility of mistake, where the owner
was to collect all additional charges above two dollars, which had been
paid.

It took Mrs. Winslow a long time to persuade the farmer that she owned
no barn, kept no animals, had no use for hay, and that there had been
some mistake, or that some person had deliberately played a joke upon
_him_, but finally, after a shivering argument of fully fifteen minutes,
and the expenditure of a dollar bill, with the seductive offer that she
would give him ten dollars if he would find and bring to her the man who
ordered the load, her obstinate visitor departed, roundly swearing in
good German that he would have the _Gottferdamter schwindler_ brought up
by der city gourts and hung, to which Mrs. Winslow groaned a hearty
approval as she shut the door of the--to her--desolate room.

If there had previously been any doubts in her mind as to there being a
preconcerted plan to annoy and exasperate her beyond endurance, they
were now entirely removed, and the woman broke down completely, wringing
her hands in mute expression of bitter anguish. The storm without was
not half so violent as the storm within, and the blinding flakes which
swept from the bitter sky raged upon a no more barren, frozen, desolate
soil than her own selfish heart.

There may be a kind of pity for such a woman; there should be pity for
every form of human suffering, or even depravity; but in my mind there
should be none to verge from pity into palliation and excuse for this
woman. Great as was her mental suffering, there was in it not a single
touch of remorse. Terribly as her mind was racked and tortured with
doubt, uncertainty, fear, and despair, there was in it no trace of the
womanhood which, however low it may descend, is still capable of regret.
She was not heart-sick for the life she was leading, but dreaded the
punishment she knew it deserved. Her nature had never shrunk from the
countless miseries she had entailed on others, and her heart never
misgave her only in the absence of her kind of happiness or in the
superstitious fear of the evils which she felt assured were constantly
her due. She was, as far as I ever knew, or can conceive, a soulless
woman whose troubles only produced vindictiveness, whose utter aim in
life was social piracy, whose injuries only begat hate, and whose
sufferings only concentrated her exhaustless hunger and thirst for
revenge.

After the first burst of rage and passion, she settled down into a
condition of deep study and planning, and about the middle of the
afternoon began passing in and out and visiting various places, in a way
which, though it might not particularly attract attention, yet betokened
some business project being resolutely and quietly carried out.

During one of the periods when she was within her apartments, quite a
commotion was raised in the lower story, the stores of which were
occupied by a tobacconist and milliner, by a call from a prominent
undertaker of Main Street, who with a mysterious air exhibited the
following note, at the same time asking whispered conundrums about it.

   "MR. BOXEM:

   "DEAR SIR--Please quietly deliver a full-sized coffin at No.
   -- South St. Paul Street, at the first room to the right of
   the stairway as it reaches the third floor. Enclosed please
   find five dollars, in part payment. Will make it an object to
   you to ask no questions below, and deliver the coffin as soon
   after dark as possible.

                                (Signed)     "MRS. A. J. W----."

Mr. Boxem was by no means a solemn man; but he had a heavy bass voice,
which he used to such great effect in asking questions below stairs,
that he succeeded in creating a fine horror there, so that by the time
he had proceeded to Mrs. Winslow's rooms, it was settled in the minds of
the tobacconist and the milliner, their employees, and any customers of
either who had happened in during Mr. Boxem's preliminary investigation,
that each and every one's previous solemn prediction as to "_something_
being wrong upstairs" had now come true, as they each and every one
reminded the other that "Oh, I told you so!"

Mr. Boxem, finding Mrs. Winslow's door ajar, quietly stepped in and
reverently removed his sombre crape hat.

"Evening, ma'am," he said politely, but with a professional shade of
sympathy in the greeting.

"And what do _you_ want?" she asked in a kind of desperation, noticing
an open letter in his hand.

"Your order, you know," he replied tenderly; "these things are sad and
have to be borne. Can't possibly be helped, more 'n one can help coming
into the world."

Mrs. Winslow could not reply from rage and anger, and hiding her face in
her hands, walked to the window.

"No, it's the _way_ of the world," continued Boxem, with a sigh;
"ah--hem!--might I ask if _it_ is in there?" he concluded, producing a
tape-line case.

"It?--in God's name, what _it_!" sobbed the woman.

"Why--the--the"--stammered her visitor somewhat abashed, "the body--the
corpse, you know! Have come to measure it. Painful, I know; but business
is business, if it's only coffin business; and I can't possibly do a
neat job without I get a good measure. Something like the tailoring
trade, you see!"

"Body?--corpse?--come to measure it? Oh, I shall go wild, I shall go
wild," persisted the woman, half frantic at the intimation which came to
her that a corpse was not only in her place, but in the very room where
she slept, and that this fiend who was pursuing her--this Nemesis, who
struck her pride, her ambition, her desires, her very life, at every
move she made, had actually sent an undertaker there to measure the dead
body.

It is hard to tell what would have happened if the good sense of the
undertaker had not come to the relief of the situation; and, hastily
answering her that there had probably been some mistake, that the order
was probably meant for the next block, and offering other similar
excuses while hastily apologizing for the intrusion, Mr. Boxem very
sensibly went back to his business and his coffins, five dollars ahead
until more promising inquiries should bring to light the friend of the
alleged dead, and the owner of the money, who, fortunately for Mr.
Boxem, has not appeared to this day.




CHAPTER XXIV

   Breaking up.-- Doubts and Queries.-- Suspected
      Developments.-- The Detectives completely outwitted.-- On
      the Trail again.-- From Rochester to St. Louis.-- A
      prophetic Hotel Clerk.-- More Detectives and more Need for
      them.-- Lightning Changes.


Bristol and Fox happened around in time to participate in the general
excitement which the undertaker's visit had awakened, and after getting
as full particulars as possible from the people below, who refused to
believe that some dark deed had not been committed upstairs, they
proceeded to the rooms, where they found the door to Mrs. Winslow's
private apartment closed, and the two, finding no opportunity to
converse with their landlady, shortly went out for supper.

On their return they found Mrs. Winslow in a remarkably pleasant frame
of mind, and quite full of jokes about the order for a coffin--so much
so, in fact, that my operatives were quite surprised at the change from
her previous demeanor under similar circumstances. Altogether they
passed one of the pleasantest evenings since they became the woman's
tenants. Several ladies that lived in the same building were invited in,
refreshments of wines and some rare fruits out of season were served,
singing, card-playing, and piano-playing with some waltzing were
indulged in, and it was noticed by the two men that Mrs. Winslow was
almost hysterically happy, as if she had decided upon some exceedingly
brilliant and satisfactory plan, the execution of which was being
preluded in this way.

At the close of the evening she casually announced that the next time
she had any company she hoped to show them a better place.

Somebody at once inquired if she was going away, whereupon she gayly
replied that instead of going away she was going to make better
arrangements for staying. She had intended all along, she said, tidying
up the place, but had been so lazy that she had kept neglecting it until
it was really too bad, and now she had decided to begin tearing up
things to-morrow.

In answer to Bristol and Fox's inquiries as to what was to be done with
them in the meantime, she said that she had already arranged that, and
had secured a pleasant room at the Osborn House, where they were to
remain without additional expense to themselves until she had concluded
her changes. This rather dashed the operatives, but they made no further
remark upon the subject until the company had dispersed, when they urged
the propriety, both on the grounds of economy and convenience of
"doubling up," as Bristol termed it, in one room until another was
finished, and then removing to that, until their respective apartments
had been renovated. But Mrs. Winslow was obdurate, alleging that on
account of these annoyances she had become weak and nervous of late,
and did not desire to be annoyed with either the argument or
arrangement.

So that early on the next morning, when Mrs. Winslow announced to the
detectives that an express wagon was in waiting to convey their baggage
to the Osborn House, there was no alternative but to go, as the persons
engaged to do the renovating were on hand and had already begun their
work of turning the rooms into chaos. Mrs. Winslow assured them that but
a few days would elapse before they would all be together again in their
old quarters; and as they grumblingly went away complaining of short
notice and the like, she bade them a merry good-by, adding that she
should stay about with some of her Spiritualistic friends in the city,
and perhaps take a little trip down to Batavia; but in any event would
let them know the first moment that the rooms were ready for occupancy.

While Bristol and Fox were settling themselves in their new quarters
they indulged in a very heated argument as to Mrs. Winslow's object in
this all but forcibly ejecting them from their rooms, which they had
occupied so long that they had come to consider them something of a
home; as to whether Mrs. Winslow meant to do without their presence
hereafter or not, Bristol feeling sure that the woman meditated some
future action which was to relieve herself of their society, if indeed
it did not mean more than that, while Fox felt equally as certain that
the whole affair was only one of the whimful woman's whims, that, being
satisfied, would result in their early recall.

In any event in this way the combination of mediumistic and detective
talent was broken up.

I was at once informed about the turn things had taken, and ordered that
extra diligence should be used in keeping the woman under notice, as I
felt apprehensive that making her rooms tidy was not her object at all.
I had no right to detain her, go wherever she might; but Lyon's counsel
had been for some time absent from Rochester, and some things in
connection with the defence had not yet received proper attention. The
depositions as to the woman's character and adventures throughout
Wisconsin, Iowa and Missouri had not yet been taken, nor indeed had the
very necessary formula of serving notice upon Mrs. Winslow of the
proposed taking of such evidence been gone through; so that, as it would
require some time to take this evidence after notice had been served, it
was very desirable that she should be kept in sight.

The next development, showing her to be a very shrewd woman, was in her
sending word over to the hotel, the same day that my operatives left her
rooms, that she had been taken suddenly and severely ill, and had been
obliged to turn over the work to a lady friend of hers, and might not be
able to resume the supervision of it for several days.

Bristol called, ostensibly to tender his condolence, but was unable to
find Mrs. Winslow, being met by a very smart little lady, who informed
him that it would be impossible to see his former landlady, as she was
extremely ill and could not be at present disturbed; but that should
any change in her condition occur, both he and Fox should be promptly
informed. I had instructed them to do their best in watching the
premises, which I am satisfied they had done, and I had also put the two
other men, Grey and Watson, on the lookout, but none of them had
observed her either pass out of or into the place, and they began to be
convinced that she really was lying ill within the building.

During this condition of things, and being somewhat anxious about the
matter, I went to Rochester myself, and held a consultation with my men,
having the block further examined under various guises and pretexts,
which proved beyond doubt that the woman was gone, and had probably left
the building a very few minutes after the operatives had departed; and,
for some reason best known to herself, but probably on account of the
mysterious annoyances which had been following each other very rapidly,
had either left the city entirely or was hiding very closely within it,
with a view to discover whether, with the two men out of her society,
and herself in peaceful retiracy, she could not ascertain from what
source her troubles came, or avoid them altogether.

To my further annoyance, the magnificent Harcout appeared and kindly
offered me countless suggestions and theories, which were each one
considered by Mr. Harcout to be worthy of immediate adoption; and in
order to get rid of him, I was obliged to appear to acquiesce in an
imaginative theory of Mrs. Winslow's flight to New York, and represent
myself as so interested in his idea of how she could be traced to her
hiding-place, that I desired of him as a personal favor that he would
follow the trail, giving him a man, and the man a wink--and there never
was a finer picture of pomposity and assumption than when Harcout and
his man started for New York. Rid of him, I again turned to my work of
getting upon the right trail.

I was sure the woman had left the city, and further inquiry at the rooms
convinced me that I was correct. The little woman finally acknowledged
flatly that she had gone, but would under no circumstances tell whether
she had left the city or not. She also exhibited a bill of sale of the
goods and a transfer of the lease, and wanted to know if _that_ did not
look as though she had gone? But she persisted in her refusal to give
further information, and that was the end of it.

No one had seen any trunks or packages leave the place, nor could my
detectives get any trace of her having left the city over any of the
different roads. Inquiries made at all the leading livery stables,
express and hack-stands, of the city, failed to discover that Mrs.
Winslow had been conveyed to any near railroad station where she might
have taken a train; nor could it be by any means ascertained that such a
person had purchased a ticket at any of the adjacent towns for any point
to the east, west, or south.

In fact, all trace of Mrs. Winslow was lost, and I was satisfied that
she had for some time been sure of the danger of her surroundings; and,
while not able to fasten any particular suspicious act upon Bristol or
Fox, undoubtedly intuitively felt that they were either directly
responsible for her troubles, or were in some unexplainable way
connected with their cause; and being enough of a professional litigant
to be aware of the necessity of service of notice upon her as to the
taking of evidence before such evidence could be taken, and that it
would be possible by a sudden disappearance and remaining secreted until
the case might be called, to defeat Lyon's attorneys from using this
mountain of evidence which she knew existed against her, whether she
knew we had collected it or not, the double motive for her mysterious
absence was plainly apparent.

Remembering Bristol and Fox's reports as to her threat to go to St.
Louis and "attend to her cases" there unless the annoyances ceased, and
knowing from previous evidence already secured that she had figured
extensively in various capacities, but principally as Spiritualist,
blackmailer and courtesan in that city, I finally concluded that she had
gone there, though her mode of leaving Rochester, if she had left the
city, had certainly been such as to demonstrate ability worthy of a
better cause.

I accordingly directed Bristol and Fox to return to New York, and
detailed the two men who had made it lively for Mrs. Winslow, and who,
of course, knew her, but whom she had not seen face to face, the
"materializations" having all been done for them by other parties, to
proceed to St. Louis in search of her, stopping at any point where
railroad divergences were made from the trunk lines between the east and
the west, and make extremely diligent inquiries for her, while I left
another man in Rochester for the purpose of watching for her
reappearance there, which would undoubtedly occur as soon as her former
tenants were gone, in the event that she was secreted in Rochester,
instead of being at the west, and to make this plan more certain, caused
Bristol to write a letter to Mrs. Winslow, stating that both he and Fox
had made numberless efforts to see her, but, failing to ascertain either
where she was, or the cause of her sudden disappearance, and both being
out of active business, they had concluded to go on to New York, but
would return to Rochester should she resume charge of the rooms and
desire them for tenants. I made arrangements also at the post-office to
ascertain whether any letters were reforwarded to her at any point, and
also at the express office regarding packages, so it could be hardly
possible for her to keep up any correspondence or relation of any kind
with parties in Rochester without disclosing her place of retreat.

Having completed these arrangements, I returned to New York and
anxiously waited for some news from the West.

No trace was found of the woman until Operatives Grey and Watson had
arrived at Chicago, where they immediately circulated among the
Spiritualists of that city, who are both numerous and of rather doubtful
moral standing. They ascertained that a woman answering her description
had been there, and advertised largely under another _alias_ than Mrs.
Winslow, but nothing definitely could be learned until in their reports
I discovered that the little Frenchman, Le Compte, was figuring as the
unknown lady's companion and business manager, when I telegraphed to
follow Le Compte and his woman, being morally certain that these two
were Monsieur the Mineral Locater and the celebrated plaintiff in the
Winslow-Lyon breach of promise suit.

It was discovered after some trouble, and with the assistance of my
Chicago Agency, that Le Compte had suddenly left that city for some
southern or south-western point, possibly St. Louis, but no information
could be gained as to what direction Mrs. Winslow had taken, it being
evidently her plan to avoid pursuit, should there be any made. My
conviction still being strong that her objective point was St. Louis, I
ordered the men on there, without positively knowing that either of the
parties were there; but was gratified to learn that Le Compte had been
in the city, whether he was there or not on the operatives' arrival. The
operatives, Grey and Watson, at once searched the newspapers and found
no advertisements which would cover the desired couple, or either of
them; but, notwithstanding, visited all the mediums, clairvoyants, and
prominent Spiritualists of the city, but could find no trace of the
fugitives from that generally very prolific source, and began to have
the impression that her trip there, if she were in the city at all, was
one of pleasure or of blackmail business outside of her regular
clairvoyant line.

The next move made by the men was to search about among the hotels and
boarding-houses, and really ferret her out. This was a tedious process,
and very little success was made in this endeavor for two or three days,
when one noon, as Grey was wandering about the city in a seemingly
useless endeavor to find the woman, he stepped into the Denver House,
formerly the old City Hotel, and began to search over the register. He
had not proceeded far when the clerk, eyeing him cautiously, said:

"See here, Mister, ain't you lookin' for somebody?"

"Certainly I am," he replied pleasantly.

Grey looked at him a moment and saw that he would not drop the subject,
and immediately endeavored to mislead him by answering, "Of course I am;
I came in from the country this morning, and I don't know what hotel she
was going to."

"Ah, ha," mused the clerk, as if at loss how to proceed, "I guess you
didn't know where to find her, and you haven't found her yet, have you?"

"No," Grey replied quietly.

"Is she big or little?"

"Well, she ain't little," answered Grey.

"Now, see here, my friend, that's all right; but I'm pretty sure you
didn't just come in from the country, and further, I think I can show
you the woman you've been hunting."

Grey smiled and intimated that he was perfectly willing to be shown the
woman.

"Well, you just let me have your hat; I'll put it on the hat-rack
inside the dining-room door, then you go to the wash-room and pass into
the dining-room as though you had forgotten your hat and had come back
for it. Look at the head of the first table over by the windows, and if
you don't find your woman with a little Frenchman, I'll treat!"

Grey was surprised at the revelation, as there could be no possible
means for him to know of his mission; but the clerk's reference to the
"little Frenchman" convinced him that there was something worth
following up in the matter, and he followed his new friend's
instructions implicitly, passed into the dining-room, took his hat from
the rack, turned and got a good view of the fair Mrs. Winslow and the
faultless Monsieur Le Compte, who were evidently enjoying life as
thoroughly as perfect freedom from restraint, and spiritualistic free
love, would enable them.

He expressed no surprise, however, at seeing the woman, and remarked to
the clerk as he passed into the hall, "Why, that isn't any friend of
mine!"

"Nor anybody else's!" said the clerk with a leer. "But really, now," he
anxiously added, "_ain't_ you after her?"

"Certainly not," Grey stoutly replied; but as the clerk took him into
the bar-room to treat him according to agreement, which he submitted to
unblushingly, he admitted that he had a curiosity to know something
about her, as he had either seen her, or heard of her, previously.

Then the clerk told him a good deal about the woman, unnecessary for me
to recite to my readers, which only further showed her vile character,
and so worked upon my operative's curiosity and interest that he decided
to come to the hotel for a few days; but as he was informed that Mrs.
Winslow's intentions were to remain there the remainder of the week, and
the clerk promised to keep a good lookout for her, he concluded to hunt
up his companion, inform him of his good fortune, and transfer their
baggage to that hotel.

As it was now about two o'clock, Grey did not find Watson before six,
and it was fully eight o'clock before they got settled at the Denver
House. But their eyes were not gladdened by a sight of the fugitive on
that evening, nor was she at breakfast next morning. The operatives
began to be alarmed lest the bland clerk had taken them in, and were
particularly so, when, at their request, for the purpose of ascertaining
whether she was in her room, he knocked at her door, and after a few
minutes returned with a blank, scared face, saying that the Jezebel had
left, and more than that, that she owed the hotel over fifty dollars for
board and wine furnished on the strength of her elegant and dashing
appearance.

On further examination of the room it was evident that the woman had not
occupied it at all during the previous night, but had left the hotel
immediately after dinner whether from a previous decision to do so, or
from one of those sudden impulses, quite contrary to the general rule of
human action, which made her an extraordinarily difficult quarry to
follow, or still, from some suspicion that she was being followed.

Grey felt quite crestfallen that he had lost Mrs. Winslow by one of her
characteristic manoeuvres, and at once made inquiries concerning her
baggage, ascertaining from the clerk that she only had a portmanteau
with her at the hotel, but had had a trunk check which she had exhibited
when asking some question about the arrival and departure of trains.

Grey sent Watson to intersections of prominent streets to keep a lookout
for parties, while he at once proceeded to the "Chicago Baggage Room,"
as it is called, under the Planters' House, where he ascertained, after
considerable trouble and representing himself as an employee of the
Chicago, Alton, and St. Louis road, looking for lost baggage, that Mrs.
Winslow had come there personally about two o'clock the day previous and
presented the check for her trunk, which had been taken away by an
expressman with "a gray horse and a covered wagon."

The next step, of course, was to find the expressman with the gray horse
and covered wagon, who had taken the woman's trunk, and this was no easy
matter to do. There were plenty answering that description, but Grey
labored hard and long to find the right one, and finally found it this
way.

Being an Irishman himself, and a pretty jolly sort of a fellow, he was
not long in finding a compatriot the owner of a gray horse and a covered
wagon, of whom he asked:

"Did you move the big woman with the big trunk at two o'clock
yesterday?"

"An' if I did?" said the expressman, on the defensive.

"Nothing if you did; but _did_ you?" replied Grey.

"It's chilly weather," replied the expressman, winking hard at a saloon
opposite.

"Yes, and I think a drop of something wouldn't hurt us," added Grey,
following the direction of the expressman's wink and thought quickly.

They stepped over to the saloon and were soon calmly looking at each
other through the bottom of some glasses where there had been whiskey
and sugar. They looked at each other twice this way, and finally they
were obliged to take the third telescopic view of each other before they
could resume the subject.

Then the expressman looked very wise at Grey, remarking musingly, "A big
'oman with a big trunk, eh?"

"Yes, a pretty fine-looking woman, too."

"Purty cranky?"

"Yes."

"And steps purty high wid a long sthride?"

"Exactly."

"'N has clothes that stand up sthiff wid starch 'n silk 'n the makin'?"

"The very same," said Grey anxiously.

"I didn't move her," said the expressman, shaking his head solemnly.

Grey felt like "giving him one," as he said in his reports, but
repressed himself and said pleasantly that he was sorry he had troubled
him, and turned to go away, knowing this would unloosen his companion's
tongue, if anything would.

"Sthop a bit, sthop a bit; you didn't ax me did I know ef any other
party moved her?"

"That's so," said Grey, smiling and waiting patiently for developments.

"Av coorse it's so." Then looking very knowingly, he said mysteriously,
"The man's just ferninst the Planters',--not a sthone's throw away. He's
a big Dutchman, 'n got a dollar fur the job."

They were both around the corner in a moment, and Grey at once made
inquiries of the German owner of a "grey horse and a covered wagon" as
to what part of the city he had removed the trunk.

He was very secretive about the matter, and refused any information
whatever.

"Come, come, me duck," said the Irishman, "me frind here is an officer,
'n ef ye don't unbosom yerself in a howly minit, ye'll be altogether
shnaked before the coort!"

He said this with such an air of pompous sincerity, as if he had the
whole power of the government at his back, that the German at once began
relating the circumstances in such a detailed manner that he would have
certainly been engaged an entire hour in the narrative, if Grey had not,
as he himself expressed it, "out of the tail of his eye" seen Mrs.
Winslow, not twenty feet away, sailing down Fourth street, towards the
Planters'. In another moment she would pass the corner of the
court-house square, where she could not help but see the little crowd of
expressmen, hackmen and runners, his inquiries, and the statement by his
companion that he was an officer, had attracted.




CHAPTER XXV.

   Still foiled.-- Mr. Pinkerton perplexed over the Character of
      the Adventuress.-- Her wonderful recuperative Powers.-- A
      lively Chase.-- Another unexpected Move.-- The Detectives
      beaten at every Point.-- From Town to Town.-- Mrs.
      Winslow's Shrewdness.-- Among the Spiritualists at Terre
      Haute.-- Plotting.-- The beautiful Belle Ruggles.-- A wild
      Night in a ramshackle old Boarding-House.-- Blood-curdling
      "Manifestations."-- Moaning and weeping for Day.--
      Outwitted again.-- Mr. Pinkerton makes a chance
      Discovery.-- Success.


Grey took in the situation at once, and was equal to the emergency. He
knew if the German saw Mrs. Winslow, and thinking him an officer who
might arrest him for complicity in something wrong, he would probably
shout right out, "There she is, now!" He was also just as sure that his
new-found Irish acquaintance, in the excess of his friendliness, would
rush right over to Fourth street and stop the woman. So in an instant he
created a counter-attraction by calling the German a liar, collaring
him, and backing him through the line of wagons out of sight, and as
Mrs. Winslow passed farther down Fourth street, backed him through the
line of teams in the opposite direction, while the German protested
volubly that he was telling only the truth; and just the moment Mrs.
Winslow's form was hid by the Planters' House, he released the now
angry expressman, flung him a dollar for "treats," and running nimbly
around the block, fell into a graceful walk behind Mrs. Winslow, keeping
at a judicious distance, and following her for several hours through the
dry-goods stores, to the Butchers and Drovers' Bank, where she drew a
portion of the amount which she had secured from the prominent St. Louis
daily as damages, and which had remained undisturbed in that bank until
this time; into several saloons, where she boldly went, and, in defence
of the theory of women's rights, stood up to the counter like a man,
ordering and drinking liquor like one too; to the Four Courts, where she
at least _seemed_ to have considerable business; to numberless
Spiritualist brothers and sisters, including, of course, the mediums;
and finally to a very elegant private boarding-house kept by a
respectable lady named Gayno, whom the adventuress had so won with her
oily words and dashing manners, accompanied by her large Saratoga trunk,
that not only she, but a little French gentleman named Le Compte--whom
Grey had hard work to avoid, as he had followed Mrs. Winslow at a
respectful distance, and as if with a view of ascertaining whether any
other person besides himself was following the madam--had managed to
secure quarters in an aristocratic home and an aristocratic
neighborhood, for all of which the experienced female swindler had no
more idea of paying, unless compelled to, than she had of paying her
fifty-dollar hotel bill at the Denver House.

On receipt of this information, I directed Superintendent Bangs to
proceed to Rochester and hurry up Lyon's attorneys in securing the legal
papers necessary to avail ourselves of the large amount of evidence
already discovered, and serve notice upon her while she was still in
sight, and before her suspicions of being watched and followed, which it
was evident was now growing upon her, had forced her into still more
artful dodges to evade us.

It was certainly her determination to clothe all her acts with as much
mysteriousness as possible, and in this manner work upon Lyon's feelings
and fears until she would compel him, through actual disgust of and
shame at the long-continued public surveillance of his affairs, to end
the worrying tension upon his mind by a compromise that would yield her
a large sum of money.

That she was able, and had the means to make these quick moves and
sudden changes, was equally as certain, though it was a question in my
mind then, and has been to this day, how much money she might have had
at command. I know that at times she must have had almost fabulous sums
in her possession. I was also often quite as sure that she was
absolutely penniless, when, of a sudden, she would carry out some bold
scheme that required a great deal of money, which invariably came into
requisition from some mysterious source in the most mysterious manner
possible. Whatever might have been the woman's pecuniary resources, I
must confess that in nearly every instance I underrated her, and in fact
that, in every respect, the more I endeavored to analyze her the more of
an enigma she became.

Like nearly all women of disreputable character, she was terribly
extravagant, reckless, and improvident; but as an offset to this she was
supreme in the meanness ordinary courtesans are above--that petty but
never-ceasing swindling so terribly annoying to the public.

With all these things in her favor, so far as being an ingenious pest is
concerned, she was also possessed of the power of physical as well as
financial recuperation to a wonderful degree; and to whatever depth of
temperamental dejection or physical exhaustion and degradation she might
descend, she would of a sudden reappear, fresh and blooming, with no
perceptible trail of her vileness upon her, in which condition she would
remain just so long as would conserve her interests.

While Superintendent Bangs was on his way to St. Louis, Grey and Watson
were being led a lively chase about the city by Mrs. Winslow, and the
bland clerk of the Denver House was devoting nearly all his time in
tracking her from place to place to enforce the collection of his
employer's bill.

Her first exploit was to borrow twenty dollars from Mrs. Gayno on her
baggage, who was thus prevented from turning her out of doors when her
true character was learned; and as a further illustration of her
shrewdness, after she had remained at the house as long as she desired,
she left between days, without refunding the borrowed money or paying
her bill, and in some mysterious way also spirited away all her baggage.

This of course caused more trouble in finding her, and she was finally
discovered in furnished rooms. Even here she suddenly made her presence
so unbearable to the landlord that he gladly paid her a bonus to depart,
which she did equally as mysteriously as on the previous occasion, when
she was lost again, and the third time found at a Spiritualistic
gathering at the hall near the corner of Chestnut and Seventh streets,
where she was one of the speakers of the evening and did herself and the
cause justice.

In this way--following her while she was securing abstracts of her many
cases against the people of St. Louis, the number and trivial character
of which had become a matter of public scandal, newspaper comment, and
universal condemnation among members of the bar, keeping track of her in
numberless conditions and localities, and listening to endless tales of
the woman's reckless conduct during her previous residence in the
city--Mrs. Winslow gave the two men all they could possibly attend to.

One Wednesday morning about eleven o'clock, when Grey had just stepped
out upon the street from a late breakfast at the Planters'--having been
out until nearly morning the night previous on a fruitless attempt to
keep the woman under surveillance for a few hours, that detective was
looking up and down the street quite undecided as to what course to
pursue--he saw Mrs. Winslow just leaving an expressman at the
court-house square, who immediately jumped into his wagon and drove off.

Grey ran quickly down Fourth street, and after a few minutes' chase
succeeded in overtaking the vehicle. Halting it he asked the driver:

"Are you going to move that woman?"

He checked his horse with an air that plainly said that kind of
interruption was neither profitable nor desirable; but driving on at a
brisk pace, there was jolted out of him the remark: "My friend, I'm
working for the public. Sometimes it pays better to keep one's mouth
shut than to open it, especially to strangers."

Grey hurrying on at the side of the wagon, and holding to it with his
left hand, with his right he found a greenback. Handing this to the
driver, he sprang into the seat beside him, saying, "Sometimes it pays
better to open one's mouth!"

"That's so," replied the driver stuffing the bill into his pocket and
elevating his eyebrows as if inquiring what Grey wanted him to open his
mouth for.

"I want you to drive slowly enough for me to keep up with you. Mind, you
needn't _tell_ me anything unless you have a mind to."

"Oh, I'd just as leave tell you as not," he replied. "She's going over
to East St. Louis to try and get the 'Alton Accommodation,' if it hasn't
gone yet. The Chicago train's way behind, and the 'Alton' don't go until
the 'Chicago' comes; ye see?"

Grey knew this was partially true, for he had but a few moments before
received a telegram from Mr. Bangs, stating that he was aboard the down
train which had been belated; so that the best thing to do was to take
the expressman's number, so that he could find him again in case of a
mistake, or any deception being practised, which he did. He then
returned to the Planters', paid his bill, wrote notes to both Watson and
Superintendent Bangs stating how matters stood, went to the levee, and
in a few minutes had the pleasure of seeing the trunk put on board the
ferry, where its owner shortly followed.

Grey went on board, taking a position near the engines, where he could
have an unobstructed view of the stairs, so that if this should prove to
be another ruse of the madam's to get him started across the river and
then glide off the boat to take up still more retired quarters, he could
beat her at her own game. But Mrs. Winslow remained on the boat, and
just as it was pushing off for the Illinois shore the landlord of the
Denver House, accompanied by a constable, came rushing on board.

Seeing Grey, he immediately applied to him for information as to whether
the woman was on board. He replied by pointing her out where she was
leaning over the guards immediately above them. The landlord and his man
at once proceeded to interview the woman, threatening all sorts of
things if that bill was not paid, to all of which she gave evasive
answers until the Illinois shore was reached, when she reminded them
that she was outside the jurisdiction of the State of Missouri, and that
if either of them laid their hands upon herself or her property, she
would feel compelled to cause a St. Louis funeral, as she was a good
shot, and when in the right did not hesitate to shoot; which so
frightened the hotel man and "the little minion of Missouri law," as
Mrs. Winslow called the constable, that they retreated empty-handed and
with a confirmed disgust at the active exponents of modern Spiritualism.

Grey was now in a quandary as to what to do. The Chicago train was
reported as over two hours late, and he was informed by the conductor of
the Alton Accommodation that though his train could not leave St. Louis
until the Chicago train had arrived, yet that he dare not hold the train
a moment after that time. This precluded Grey's informing Mr. Bangs of
his whereabouts, as the train was now too near the place to admit of his
being reached by a telegram; and should he risk losing the woman to
apprise Mr. Bangs, it might be impossible to find her again at all.
Fortunately he learned that the passenger train stopped at the Baltimore
and Ohio railroad crossing, and, interesting a brakeman in his behalf,
he arranged with him to go up to the crossing, board the train, rush
through it and call out for Mr. Bangs as he went, directing the latter
to pay the brakeman two dollars for his trouble, then jump off the
train, walk rapidly back to the crossing and there board the Alton train
as it was going out, if possible; which latter plan would have
succeeded, no doubt, had not Mr. Bangs been chatting upon the rear
platform of the rear car, and failed altogether to hear the extremely
loud inquiries made for him.

Mrs. Winslow recognized Grey as a person in somebody's employ who was
following her, and the moment he seated himself in the single
passenger-car attached to the train, the woman began such a terrible
tirade of abuse against him that he was made to feel that the
detective's life is not altogether one of roseate hue, and so annoyed
the other passengers that a large-sized brakeman was selected as a
delegation of one to quiet her. It was evident she had been drinking
heavily, and she kept this brakeman pretty well employed for some time
in not only endeavoring to quiet her termagant tongue, but to keep her
in her seat, as she would often rise in the ecstasy of her wrath and
denounce poor Grey, who meekly bore it all with a patient smile, until
the conductor again appeared, when Grey showed him his thousand-mile
employee's ticket and claimed that he was an employee of that road
looking up lost baggage; that it was suspected that Mrs. Winslow had
stolen the trunk she had with her, and that he had been ordered to
follow her for a day or two until he got further instructions from
headquarters. This put him all right with the trainmen, and caused the
conductor to compel the woman into some sort of civility and silence.

At about two o'clock the train arrived in Monticello, where Mrs. Winslow
left the train, and the detective followed. The agent informed Grey that
it was at least a mile to a telegraph office uptown, but that no train
save a "wild-train" would pass either way until after he would have time
to send a dispatch and return. He immediately went uptown and sent a
telegram to the agent at East St. Louis to please inquire for a Mr.
Bangs about the depot, and if there, to have him answer; also one to
Mr. Bangs himself at the Planters'.

Returning to the depot, the agent informed Grey that Mrs. Winslow had
also been uptown, which was quite evident, as she had donned an entirely
different suit of clothing, evidently with some inebriated sort of an
idea that this might change her appearance enough to enable her to
escape him. She finally bought a ticket to Brighton, and got her trunk
checked to that point.

On their arrival at Brighton, Grey saw several ladies get off the rear
platform of the ladies' car, among whom was his unwilling travelling
companion, and watched until they had passed into the depot. In order to
make sure that she was to stop here, he ran rapidly to where the baggage
was being unloaded, where he found that her trunk had been put off. He
waited there until he saw the trunk wheeled into the little
baggage-house, when he leisurely walked back to the depot and stepped
into the ladies' waiting-room, to keep the company of the adventuress.

What was his surprise to see it almost deserted, no Mrs. Winslow there,
and no surety of anything at all. He rushed into the gentlemen's room,
galloped around the depot, looked in every direction, only to turn
towards the train with the startling suspicion that he had again been
outwitted by the shrewd Spiritualist who made her livelihood by villainy
and shrewdness, which was quickly confirmed as he made an ineffectual
attempt to overtake the departing train, only to see the face of Mrs.
Winslow pressed hard against the rear window of the ladies' car, and
almost white with a look of fiendish enjoyment and hate at the useless
attempts of her relentless pursuer whom she had so neatly foiled.

Mrs. Winslow had slipped a detective--and a good detective, too--again,
was gone, and all Grey could do was to wait at Brighton until
Superintendent Bangs could overtake and counsel with him.

By telegrams to and from conductors it was speedily ascertained by
Superintendent Bangs, who had come on to Brighton and directed Watson to
report at the Chicago Agency, that the woman had gone to Springfield,
Ills., and, after arranging with the station-agent at Brighton to send
information to Chicago regarding any call that might be made for her
trunk, or as to any orders that might be received to have it forwarded,
Mr. Bangs and Grey went at once to Springfield, where a trace of the
woman was found at the St. Nicholas Hotel.

It was ascertained that she had remained at the hotel over night, and
the clerks thought it probable that she was then at the house, her bill
not having been paid; but a thorough search for her only developed the
fact that she was at least absent from the hotel, whether with an
intention of returning or not.

Mr. Bangs directed Mr. Grey to remain at the St. Nicholas, keeping on
the alert for her, while he visited the more elegant houses of
ill-repute with which that capital abounds during legislative sessions
and which were just at this time getting in readiness to receive
lawmakers and lobbyists; and also the other and less respectable
establishments for piracy, managed by professed mediums, astrologists,
fortune-tellers, and all the other grades of female swindlers; and after
a considerable time spent in investigation, found a certain Madam La
Vant, astrologist--who professed to cast the horoscope of people's lives
with all the certainty of the famous Dr. Roback--who was descended from
the vikings and jarls of the Scandinavian coast, but in reality kept a
house of assignation, that most dangerous threshold to prostitution.

Madam La Vant at once acknowledged that Mrs. Winslow _had_ been there;
even showed Superintendent Bangs a bundle she had left with her. She
stated that she had called there early in the morning and left the
package, with the promise to return about three o'clock in the
afternoon, when she was to occupy a room she had engaged there, and had
already paid in advance for its use. Mr. Bangs did not feel exactly at
rest about the matter, but could not do otherwise than return to the
hotel for his dinner, promising to call in the afternoon, and alleging
that he had information to give the woman regarding certain persons who
had been, and then were, following her; for if she were then in the
house she would remain there, and he had no legal authority to molest
her or search the place without Madam La Vant's consent, which he could
not of course get if she was shielding her, which she undoubtedly was;
and if Mrs. Winslow was really away from the house, the madam would take
some means of preventing her return.

He went to the hotel as quickly as possible, found Grey, whom he
immediately sent to watch for the ingress or egress of the adventuress,
took a hasty dinner, and then relieved my operative so that he might
dine, after which the two watched the house until dark.

But their closest vigils over the place failed to cause the discovery of
Mrs. Winslow, who was doubtless by this time many miles away from
Springfield, enjoying peace and quiet in some other city. Superintendent
Bangs called on Madam La Vant as soon as the evening had come, and that
lady expressed great surprise that he had not seen his "friend, Mrs.
Winslow," as she expressed it; following this remark by the explanation
that she had returned to her house not over a half-hour after he had
left it, and had stated that she had decided to go on to Chicago
immediately, whereupon Madam La Vant had refunded her the money advanced
for the room, and the woman had taken her bundle and departure
simultaneously.

The detectives were satisfied that the astrologist was squarely lying to
them, and that she had in some way aided the fugitive to escape, or had
effectually secreted her--the former opinion being the most reasonable;
and when I had been apprised of the turn things had taken, I was
satisfied that Mrs. Winslow was in Madam La Vant's house at the very
time that Mr. Bangs was first there; that her friend, the madam, way
merely carrying out her instructions in stating that she had been there,
was then out, but would return, and that at the very moment Mr. Bangs
had started for the St. Nicholas she had left La Vant's, and, as soon as
possible thereafter, the city.

I immediately concluded that as I had no authority to arrest or in any
way detain the woman--which put my men at a great disadvantage,
preventing their telegraphing in advance for her detention, or securing
and using official assistance of any kind for the same purpose--that I
had better recall Mr. Bangs at once, which I did, and trust to Grey's
doggedness in following her, instructing him particularly to if possible
prevent being seen by her, or in any way alarming her, hoping either for
her speedy return to Rochester, on the principle that the guilty mind
constantly reverts and is drawn towards its chief topic of thought, and
that strive to keep away from it as much as she might, she would be
irresistibly drawn to it; or that through the former plan I might get
her into some little village or secluded spot, or quiet town, where,
upon Grey's announcement, Mr. Bangs or some other deputized person might
cautiously reach her before she was aware of her danger, and serve the
notice that would make the legal fight not only possible, but a stormy
one on account of the vast amount of crushing evidence I had secured for
Mr. Lyon against her.

It was more and more apparent that the woman's plan was to beat us in
this way, and thus by long and unbearable suspense, mysteriousness of
action, and constant annoyance in the shape of threatening letters,
which now continually poured in upon Mr. Lyon, not only from Rochester,
but from other portions of the country, compel him to settlement; and I
saw that the whole supreme and devilish ingenuity of the Spiritualistic
adventuress was being aimed at avoiding legal process, and to the
accomplishment of this result.

So much time had now elapsed that it was necessary for Lyon's attorneys
to go into court to explain the difficulties attendant upon reaching the
woman, and secure an extension of time in serving the papers; and by the
time this was accomplished, Grey had tracked her from town to town and
city to city, all through Central Illinois, riding on the same train
with her times without number, doubling routes and meeting her at
unexpected points, travelling at all hours and in all manner of
conveyances, never sleeping for days, eating from packages and parcels,
with scarcely time for personal cleanliness or care, which often
debarred him from admission to places where a woman, by that courtesy
which is due to her for what she ought to be, was admitted and very
properly protected from such hard-looking citizens as Grey had become;
so that finally the two came into Terre Haute together, the adventuress
as fresh as a daisy, and perfectly capable of another grand expedition
of the same extent, and the detective completely worn out and entirely
unfit for further duty.

Anticipating something of this kind and knowing that the woman might
quite naturally gravitate to that point, I had ordered Operative Pinkham
to proceed from Chicago to Terre Haute, and there assist Grey, or
relieve him altogether, as occasion required, and continue the trail
east towards Rochester, to which point the woman seemed gradually
drifting, though evidently determined to prolong her journey so as to
arrive in Rochester not more than a day or two before the time set for
trial of the Winslow-Lyon breach of promise case.

Arriving at Terre Haute, Mrs. Winslow immediately went to Mrs. Deck's
boarding-house, and upon telling that sympathetic old lady a harrowing
tale about her persecutions, was received with open arms, and it was not
long before her pitiful story had drawn a crowd of attenuated automatons
to sympathize, suggest, and harangue against the entire orthodox world.

So impressed were these people with the woman's pitiable condition, that
word was immediately passed among them that the persecuted lady should
lecture to them at Pence's Hall, after which a sort of a general
love-feast should be held, to be followed by seances and a collection
for the benefit of the now notorious plaintiff.

That winter afternoon a quiet gentleman dropped into Mrs. Deck's and
secured accommodations for a few days' stay, representing himself as a
commercial traveller from Cincinnati. Mrs. Deck was absent working
energetically in the interests of her spiritualistic guest, and the
quiet man was obliged to transact his business with the handsome Belle
Ruggles. He was a pleasant, winning sort of a fellow, young, shapely,
and adapted to immediately gaining confidence and esteem.

From a little conversation with her the quiet man, who was none other
than Detective Pinkham from my Chicago Agency, was sure that he could
trust the girl, whom he at once saw had no sympathy with these people or
their crazy antics. He saw that she was full of spirit, too, capable of
carrying out any resolve she had made, and altogether the single oasis
of good sense in this great desert of unbalanced minds.

So it was not long before he had her sentiments on Spiritualism, on
Spiritualists, and on Mrs. Winslow, whom she denounced with tears of
anger in her eyes as a disgrace to womanhood and to their place, and he
had not been three hours in the house before the young lady and himself
had entered into a conspiracy to give the woman such a scare as she had
not recently had, and drive her from the pleasant though quaint old home
her presence was contaminating.

The snow and the night came together, and the storm shook the old house
until its weak, loose joints creaked, and every cranny and crevice
wailed a dismal protest to the wind and the driving snow. It would take
more than that though to keep people of one idea at home, and the entire
household departed at an early hour for Pence's Hall, from which,
whatever occurred there, Mrs. Deck's large family did not return until
nearly midnight, by which time Operative Pinkham and Belle Ruggles had
concluded their hasty preparations for a little dramatic entertainment
of their own, and were properly stationed and accoutred to make it a
brilliant success.

"Good-night, my poor dear!" said the kind-hearted old body as she
ushered Mrs. Winslow into her best room, a long antiquated chamber,
full of panels, wardrobes set in the wall, and ghostly, creaking
furniture. "I have to give you this room, we are so full. My first
husband died there, but you don't care for anything like _that_. I never
sleep there, the place scares me; but I know you will like it, you are
so brave!"

Whether brave or not, Mrs. Winslow seemed all of a shiver when she had
entered the room where Mrs. Deck's first husband had died.

She closed the door carefully, and putting her candle upon a grim old
bureau, began a thorough and seemingly frightened examination of the
room. The storm had not gone down, and as it beat upon the old place
with exceptionally wild and powerful gusts, the feeble structure seemed
to shrink from them and tremble in every portion.

On these occasions doors to the wardrobes and closets of the strange
room would open suddenly as if sprung from their fastenings by unseen
hands, while panels would slide back and forth, cracks in the ceilings
and walls would open alarmingly, until, in fact, to the woman's vivid
imaginations every portion of the lonely old chamber or its weird
furnishings seemed possessed of supernatural life or motion. The fact
is, Mrs. Winslow was trembling like the house itself; but after a few
moments she snuffed the waning candle which the frugal Mrs. Deck had
given her, and in its flickering rays hastily began preparing for bed.

Just as she bent over to blow out the candle, some invisible assistant
did the work for her, and at the same moment a hissed "_Beware!_" caused
her to start with a scream and plunge for the bed, into which she
scrambled after upsetting a chair or two, when she pulled the covering
over her head and groaned with fright.

And now the blessed materializations began.

A sudden click and then a sliding sound above her head announced that
the "control" had begun operations, and in a moment a few grains of
plastering and some strange and weird combinations of musical sounds
seemed to simultaneously fall into the room. The plaster, of course,
came right down, some of it upon exposed parts of the trembling medium's
person; but the music, which seemed to be badly out of harmony, appeared
to have the power of circling in the air, which it did for some little
time, and as suddenly ceased as it had begun, when from these mysterious
upper regions came a long, low, tremulous, unearthly groan, that died
away into a ghastly sigh as the storm clutched the decayed old mansion
and shook it until it rattled and rattled again.

"My God!" quavered the half-smothered woman, "that's Mrs. Deck's first
man's ghost; he'll kill me! Mur----!"

She had begun to shout "Murder!" but a still more awful voice proceeding
from the direction of the bureau bade her keep silence.

She was silent for a moment, but the storm wailed about the house so
dismally that the "poor dear," who, according to Mrs. Deck, was brave
enough to cheerily retire in what had been the bed-chamber of the dead,
could bear the horror of her position no longer, and began a vocal
lamentation which gave promise of attracting more than a spirit
audience, when the materialized spirit of "Mrs. Deck's first man," or
whatever owned the voice, laid a heavy hand upon the trembling woman,
sepulchrally warned her to desist from her outcries, and then read her
such a lecture from the Other World as she had never transmitted in her
most effective "seances;" after which she was ordered, on pain of
instant death, to leave Mrs. Deck's and Terre Haute as soon as morning
should come, and a pledge being secured from her to the effect that she
would, and that she would under no circumstances leave the room for the
night, the spirit--which had very much the appearance of Detective
Pinkham, the commercial traveller from Cincinnati--left the room by the
door in a twinkling, very like a mortal, and still very like a mortal,
quietly stole upstairs and helped extricate Miss Ruggles from her gloomy
position, where she had done "utility" business as a groaning garret
ghost.

All that dreary night the wicked woman moaned and wept for day. Her
coward heart shrank from the evil she knew she deserved. The storm never
ceased, but rose and fell as if keeping pace with her terrors, and the
old place furnished her crazed imagination untold horrors.

At last the dawn came, but she had found no moment's sleep, and before
the household was astir the wretched woman crept out upon the street,
and plodding through the swollen drifts, followed by a very pleasant
appearing commercial traveller from Chicago, she staggered to the
station, and was rapidly borne away from her sympathizing friends
towards the east.

Being apprised by telegraph of Pinkham's rather strange method of giving
her an impulse in the direction of Rochester, I at once proceeded to
that city with Superintendent Bangs, anticipating her arrival there
shortly after our own; but was again disappointed, the adventuress
having doubled on the detective, and so successfully avoided him, that
the third day after leaving the Hoosier City he arrived in Rochester
with a long face and in an extremely befogged condition.

After having directed Mr. Bangs and Pinkham to remain and watch every
incoming train, one stormy evening, as I was about returning to New
York, by the merest chance I espied the woman cautiously emerging from
the Arcade, and following her I soon housed her in the apartments of an
old mediumistic hag on State street. Calling a carriage I was rapidly
driven to the Osborn House, where I found Mr. Bangs, and with him and
the legal papers returned to the place in less than fifteen minutes from
the time I had left it.

Cautiously approaching the room, we listened and heard low, earnest
voices within. Through the transom we could see that the light inside
was turned very low, and rightly judged that somebody was being given a
"sitting," for, carefully trying the knob, I found that the place was
secured against ordinary intrusion, and throwing my weight against the
door it flew from its old and rusty fastenings, and in an instant we
were within the medium's room.

"That is the woman!" said I, pointing to Mrs. Winslow, who had sprung
from her chair white with fear, while the wretched-looking medium,
though previously in the "trance state" stared at us with protruding
eyes.

[Illustration: _"That is the woman!" said I, pointing to Mrs. Winslow
who had sprung from her chair, white with fear.--_]

"And who are _you_?" she gasped, looking from one to the other in
dismay.

"Persons whom you will give no more trouble after the service of these
papers," gallantly replied Mr. Bangs, passing the legal documents into
her hands, which closed upon them mechanically; and after I had politely
handed the medium sufficient money to repair the damage I had caused her
door, we bade the two spiritualists a cheery good-night and left them to
a consideration of the contrast between mortal and immortal
"manifestations."




CHAPTER XXVI.

   Shows how Mrs. Winslow makes a new Move.-- Also introduces
      the famous Evalena Gray, Physical Spiritual Medium, at her
      sumptuous Apartments on West Twenty-first Street, New
      York.-- Reminds the Reader of the Aristocratic Classes
      deluded by Spiritualism.-- Describes a Seance and explains
      the "Rope-trick," and other Spiritualistic Sleight-of-hand
      Performances.


Mrs. Winslow was quite crushed by her failure to evade service of the
notice to take evidence in just those sections of the country where she
had been too well known for her present good, and for a few days seemed
to be in that peculiar mental condition where one may be easily led, or
driven, into committing a desperate act for mere relief from a too great
conflict of emotions.

She flitted about the city in a state of great unrest for a little time,
not being able to dispossess her mind of the fear or feeling of being
pursued; stealing into the houses of those of like belief, and with an
air of great secrecy insisting that they should give her refuge and
protection from Lyon's minions, who, she claimed--and perhaps had come
to believe--would yet in some way do her bodily harm; mysteriously
gliding about the Arcade and in the vicinity of his house, as if
expecting by some occult power to be able to divine what might be the
rich man's plans concerning her; and like the very evil thing that she
was, hiding in uncanny places, scared at her own voice or footsteps,
until the spell had left her.

About this time New York city dailies, and many of the newspapers of
large circulation throughout the interior of the State, were publishing
the following advertisement:

   "Immense Success!--Miss Evalena Gray, the celebrated Spiritual
   Physical Medium, lately from the Queen's Drawing-room, Hanover
   Square, London, also Crystal Palace, Sydenham, and assisted by
   Mlle. Willie Leveraux, from Paris, will give one of her
   marvellous seances this evening at her elegant parlors, No. 19
   West Twenty-first street, opposite the Fifth Avenue Hotel, at
   7:30 P.M."

New York city knew Miss Evalena Gray as a new aspirant to the honors and
emoluments derived from her ability to do mysterious things very
gracefully. She was as beautiful a woman as had ever come into New York
on this kind of business, and those who considered her a true medium
were in ecstasies over the magnificent contortions and superb evolutions
which her "great spiritual power" enabled her to execute with
bewildering rapidity, while disbelievers in the source of these
phenomena originating in celestial spheres could not resist her
fascinating powers; and the consequence was that her adroitness and
beauty had created a great sensation, so much so in fact that
respectable people had begun arguing about her, which answered just the
purpose sought.

New York also knew her as a woman so full of soul--that latter-day
substitute for brains and personal purity--as to have readily confused
and silenced great throngs in Europe wherever she had appeared; and she
had invariably challenged investigation, and that, too, with as much
audacity as success, which had in every instance been wonderfully marked
and complete.

Mrs. Winslow knew her as a little sprite she had met three years before
at Chardon, Ohio, a pleasant little village of about 3,000 inhabitants,
twelve miles south of Painesville, where Mrs. Winslow had been giving
seances. Miss Gray was then just starting in her Spiritualistic career,
and Mrs. Winslow, seeing her aptitude and general fascinating qualities,
endeavored to persuade her to accompany her.

Miss Gray evidently believed in her own powers, at least had considered
the proposition unfavorably; but the two had become warm friends, and
Mrs. Winslow had cheerfully imparted to the demure novitiate all her
supply of manifestations, which she had rapidly acquired, and the two
had parted with the promise to meet again at the very first opportunity,
each drifting away to fulfil her traitorous course against society and
blasphemous satire upon respectability.

So, Mrs. Winslow, being in that condition of mind wherein its possessor
_must_ have some person's confidence, saw this advertisement, and
feeling sure that Miss Evalena Gray had been in clover, concluded that
she could go to her for rest and consolation; accordingly, she threw off
the clouds which had seemed to settle upon her, gathered her baggage
together from various secret places where it had been deposited, took
rooms at the National Hotel for a few days in quite a rational manner,
and after a week of perfect rest and physical care, which told
wonderfully in her favor, in connection with her great recuperative
powers, and having provided a wardrobe of no mean character, left
Rochester for New York as handsome and attractive a woman as one would
meet in a day's journey.

I was apprised of her departure by telegraph, and had a spry little
operative at the Hudson River depot at Thirty-first street, ready to
play the lackey to her. She at once proceeded in a carriage to the Fifth
Avenue Hotel, where she secured fine apartments overlooking the entrance
to Miss Evalena Gray's elegant parlors at No. 19 West Twenty-first
street; and although I had no previous information as to what called
Mrs. Winslow to New York, I was for several reasons satisfied that it
was for the purpose of communicating with Miss Gray, and at once took
measures for securing the substance of the interview.

As Mrs. Winslow had arrived late in the afternoon, I thought probably
she would make no move until the following day, but took the precaution
to secure a room adjoining hers for the use of an operative, sending
another detective to Miss Gray's seance at half-past seven, to ascertain
whether Mrs. Winslow was at any time present, and also, if necessary, to
devise some means to remain in the house until the two women had met,
should they do so.

The detective sent to Miss Gray's place was barely able to secure
admission, on account of having come on foot, that fact alone laying him
liable to suspicion. For an hour's time, splendid equipages, at short
intervals, rolled up to the mansion, and their occupants were turned
over to a <DW64> butler of such gigantic proportions and gorgeous livery
as to give the ordinarily aristocratic place an air of oriental
splendor, the interior appointments being fully in keeping with the
promise of sumptuousness which the reception always gave. Once entered,
my operative had an opportunity to study these appointments.

The carpets were of such rich and heavy texture that they gave back no
sound to the foot-fall, and by an ingenious arrangement, beneath the
lambrequins adorning the windows, two noiseless fan-like blinds opened
or closed instantly, lighting or darkening the room as suddenly, and
evidently for use during day seances, which were sometimes given; while
opposite, two broad parlors led away, _en suite_, to a raised dais at
the rear, upon which Miss Evalena Gray, assisted by Mlle. Leveraux, from
Paris, gave her wonderful spiritual manifestations.

At either side of the centre of the first room, and on a level with the
floor, was a fountain cut in marble, back into the basin of which the
water fell with a dreamy, tinkling sound which suggested poetical
luxuriousness. Rare statuary filled every accessible niche. Heroic
paintings of the olden times, and the softer, more sensual paintings of
the late French schools, blended together until they gave the walls a
rosy glow. Flowers loading the air with fragrance, warmed the room with
the color and life which flowers only can give. Hidden music-boxes gave
forth the rare and blended melodies of sunny, southern climes; while
rich divans, arranged with that pleasant kind of taste that bespeaks no
arrangement at all, were scattered negligently about the room, now
rapidly being filled with the aristocratic people who had arrived and
were constantly arriving.

My operative, having gained a good point for observation, now turned his
attention to the rapidly-increasing assemblage. Almost without
exception, they were men and women of evident wealth and leisure, but
with scarcely a face denoting culture and refinement. They were
representatives of that numerous class who, after the rapid acquirement
of money, have found no good thing with which to occupy their minds, or,
what is more probable, have no minds to be thus occupied; and, while not
giving Spiritualism any public endorsement, secretly follow its, to
them, fascinating superstitions and mysteries, and practice, in an easy
way that prevents scandal or infamous notoriety, the sensualities which
inevitably result from its teachings or association with those
hangers-on of society professing its belief, all the time building a
hope that a lazy, sensuous heaven may be reached without effort or
struggle by merely cherishing a secret faith in what most satisfies
their animal nature, and yearning to live hereafter as they most desire
to live here--were it not for the voice of society--in a brutal freedom
from restraint, utterly devoid of moral and social purity, and without
the slightest semblance of that law, written and unwritten, which, from
the creation of man and woman, has built about the domestic relations a
protection and defence of sacred oneness and sanctified exclusiveness
which no vandal dare attack without eventually receiving some just and
certain punishment.

A conscientious detective will allow but little to escape his attention,
and my operative, who had already had considerable experience with these
illusionists, noticed a few arrangements which the spirits had evidently
insisted on being made to insure the success of Miss Gray's seances,
which were varied in their character, and "never comprised her entire
repertory," as the actors would say, so that she was able to continue an
attraction for some time to those persons who came to see her and
witness her manifestations out of mere curiosity.

The frescoing of the walls of the back parlor had been done in lines and
angles, which admitted of any number of apertures being cut and filled
with noiseless pantomime doors, so neatly as to almost defy detection.
The semi-circular platform was raised fully three feet, sloping
considerably to the front, and--whether it did or not--might have
contained a half-dozen "traps" such as are used for stage effects;
while, as is contrary to all rules for lighting places for public
entertainment, the front parlor was lighted very brilliantly, the back
parlor scarcely at all, while but a few glimmering rays fell from the
chandeliers over the platform, where the spirits, like certain "star"
actors, could not appear unless under certain conditions.

Shortly Mlle. Leveraux conducted Miss Gray through a side door to the
platform, and as the latter smiled recognition to the large number
present, exclamations of "Isn't she sweet?" "How beautiful!" "Almost an
angel as she is!" and other expressions of extreme admiration, filled
the room.

A deft little woman was Evalena Gray; a sprite of a thing, light, airy,
graceful, and with such a gliding, serpentine motion when walking,
glistening with jewels as she always did, that one instinctively thought
of some lithe and splendid leopard trailing along the edge of a jungle
with an occasional angry flash of sunlight upon it. From her feet, both
of which could have rested within your hand, and given room for just
such another pair, to her shoulders, which were sloping and narrow
though beautifully symmetrical, she was as straight as an arrow. Then
her slender, faultless neck carried her head a little forward, with a
slight bend to the side, which gave her face a half-daring or wholly
appealing expression, as people of different temperaments might look at
it, though it always attracted and held an observer, for it was as
strange a face as its owner was a strange woman. The chin stood there by
itself, though shapely, and at the point was prettily depressed by a
little dimple, just needed to save the lower part of the face from a
shrewish look. Above this the lower lip curved gradually to the edge of
the carmine point, but was stopped there by a sort of drawn look, which
with her dazzling white, though slightly irregular teeth, thin upper lip
quickly parting from the lower, at either pleasure or anger, rather
large, thin nostrils, which noticeably expanded and contracted with the
rise and fall of her not over large bosom, and her languid blue eyes,
one a trifle more closed than the other, but both looking demurely from
under lashes of wonderful depth of sweep and length--all gave the face,
which was witchingly attractive notwithstanding these marked features,
either a plaintively spiritual appearance, or a wickedly fascinating
expression beyond the power of description; while her hair, of that
nameless color which might be formed of gold and silver, mingled and
fell from her fine head, half hiding her delicate ears--pretty and
faultless ears they were--in wonderful richness and profusion.

Never were seen more beautiful hands and fingers than those belonging to
Miss Gray, and they had a way of assuming all manner of positions in
harmony with the changes of her expressive face and the motions of her
supple form, while her little body was a mere bundle of pliable bones
and elastic sinews, which could compel all manner of contortions without
change of posture, by mere will-power. She was not a beauty; but
altogether, with her real or assumed languor, her strange eyes that
might mean lasciviousness or might arouse your pity, her parted lips
which would seem to protest of weariness or be ready to whisper a
naughty secret to you, with her elf-like form that made her appear at
once a dainty innocent thing and a pretty witch--she was a woman
possessing a terribly fascinating power and capable of any devilish
human accomplishment.

When the murmurs of admiration had died away, she arose, and in her
languid manner especially prepared for the public, told her audience a
long, though interesting fabrication, of how she first discovered she
was possessed of this blessed spirit-power; how she had at first doubted
it, and endeavored to free herself from its possession; but finally saw
that it could not be forced from her. On thorough conviction that she
was a medium she had begun a laborious scientific investigation into the
subject, and finally resolved to fathom the remotest secret of
Spiritualism.

But even to her the blessed gates had been barred when she came with
this spirit of unclean scepticism. Still, being assured that it had been
given to her to walk with celestials, her future course was only a
natural sequence. What had most sorely tried her in this life, she
remarked, was to be herself morally sure of these wonderful mediumistic
powers, and then realize how cruelly the world scoffed at her as well as
at all others who were anchored upon the same beautiful faith. To
prevent this and find use for her powers in the highest spheres, she had
travelled in Europe from Rome to St. Petersburg, and from Vienna to
London.

In every instance the impossibility of any deception being practised in
her manifestations was admitted; but until she had arrived in London,
she had failed to find anybody of repute honest enough to speak the
truth. But there she had met a high-minded man who had broken through
the barriers of prejudice, and, in an open, manly way, fearless of the
sneers of the common herd, or of his business peers, had thoroughly
investigated her exhibitions, found that they had proceeded from
supernatural power, and had publicly stated his belief in their
genuineness.

With such irrefutable evidence of the possession of this spirit-power,
she was now fulfilling her mission of convincing the public of the
existence of these heaven-inspired phenomena, explainable upon no other
possible theory than that of the inter-communication between this and
the other world of ministering angels, self-determining their actual
existence by more or less perfect materializations.

With this and much more of the same sort, Evalena Gray began her
revelations, all of which had previously been performed and exposed as
ordinary tricks of an illusionary character, but which were given by the
languid, _spirituelle_ lady with such a show of her being on the
threshold of the celestial spheres, that the very atmosphere, already
charged with everything to provoke mystification and solemn curiosity,
now seemed filled with some weird, supernatural influence and presence.

First the little lady, who was dressed in white muslin, with long
flowing sleeves exposing very pretty arms, came down from the platform
and seated herself in the centre of the back parlor, inviting the
forming around her of a circle of from twelve to fifteen persons, who
should sit so closely together that there could be no possibility of her
passing out of the circle, and, if the rest of the audience chose, they
might form a circle around the inner circle so that no confederates
might reach her. This was done, when she requested some gentleman to
place his feet upon her tiny feet to assure the audience that she did
not leave her chair.

Members of the mystic circle then clasped hands, and the lights were
turned off completely. The stillness of death followed, broken only by a
low, shuddering sigh announcing the control of the medium by the
spirits, and immediately after came raps so loud and distinct as to
almost give the impression that an echo followed them. Then the medium
began patting her hands together _as an absolute proof that none of the
succeeding manifestations could by any possible means be produced by
her_. While this continued without interruption, in the face of some
came a whispered "God bless you!" others were patted caressingly upon
the face and head; whiskers and mustaches were delicately tweaked;
watches were taken from one pocket and put into another; a gent's
quizzers would be placed upon a lady's nose, and _vice versa_; music
floated about in the air over the heads of those composing the circle;
lights were seen to glitter like fire-flies above the medium's head, and
a score of other equally startling phenomena occurred. When silence,
with the exception of the soft and delicate, but never-varying
hand-patting, again fell upon the assemblage, a few raps announced the
departure of the spirits; and when the gas was turned on, the dainty
little medium sat in precisely the same position as when the circle was
formed, and the gentleman had taken good care to hold her neat little
feet between his own. A sceptical lady now held Miss Gray's feet--held
them as securely as only a sceptical lady could--when precisely the same
manifestations occurred. Again her feet were secured as before, with the
additional precaution of their being tied. She was then tied to her
chair securely, her hands tied firmly with a large handkerchief, and a
delicate wine-glass filled with water placed upon the floor several feet
from the chair. The lights were again turned off, the raps were heard as
before, and were in turn immediately followed by the hand-patting, and
when the room was again lighted the wine-glass of water was found
delicately poised upon Miss Evalena Gray's head.

Many startling variations of the same general character were introduced,
and when this portion of the seance was concluded, the astounded company
gathered about the pale and interesting medium with expressions of
unbounded wonder almost amounting to awe, mingled with terms of
endearment; for she sweetly conversed with them for a little time, and,
with rare insight into character, gave each a pleasant word of
recognition especially fitted to every case, in a manner winning beyond
expression.

She now retired for a short time, while Mlle. Leveraux entertained the
assemblage with selections from her companion's exceptionally
interesting European experiences, as put in form probably by some
enterprising, though impecunious, New York Bohemian.

When Miss Gray returned she was attired quite differently. Instead of
wearing the white, soft muslin which had given her a peculiarly graceful
appearance, she had donned a closely-fitting basque of black rep silk,
heavily trimmed with the costliest of lace, while the skirts to her
dress were drawn very tightly around her form into a neat panier.

It _might_ have been noticed by any other person in the room, as it
_was_ noticed by my operative, _that her bust and shoulders seemed to
have undergone considerable change during her absence_. She seemed much
more full across the breast, and her waist was certainly not so narrow
and graceful as when she was operating in muslin within the circle. But
then, the spirits might have caused this sudden growth, and she was
still physically handsome and shapely.

A committee of gentlemen was then called for, and Miss Gray announced
that she would submit to being tied to a chair as securely as it was in
the power of the gentlemen selected by the audience to tie her;
whereupon Mlle. Leveraux walked about the room and exhibited the rope to
be used, which, though slender, seemed strong as a Mexican lasso.

There could have been no deception or fraud about this rope.

The three who had been selected to do the work then expressed their
determination to tie Miss Gray "so the devil himself would have to help
her," as one said, proceeding with the interesting operation in the
bright gaslight, while all the people gathered about as if anxious to
see that it was done properly, or curious to notice how the little woman
would bear the ordeal. They certainly did their work well, and as the
rope was wound around and about her, being drawn taut in every instance,
it seemed to sink into her delicate flesh in a cruel way that made her
wince and tremble, the operation calling forth numberless sympathetic
remarks from those present, which she acknowledged by a painful
martyr-like smile as she patiently bore the infliction until thoroughly
tied. At her special request, as she said, to prevent a stoppage of
circulation, her hands were tied at the wrist over a fold of silk to
prevent abrasion of the flesh; and after all the knots had been sealed
with wax, she was pronounced tied so securely that, without connivance
of confederates, it would require superhuman aid to release her.

With a pleasant smile she looked around upon the wondering spectators
and said:

"Good friends, I will absolutely and incontestably prove to you that I
am possessed of that kind of aid. I want you all to form a circle around
me. Every one in the room should join it. Stand so closely together,
clasping hands, that no living person can pass the circle either way."

The circle was then formed as she had requested, half upon the platform
and half upon the floor, Miss Gray being at least ten feet from any of
the persons composing it. She then asked anxiously:

"Are you all really satisfied--yes, convinced, that there can be no
shadow or form of deception about this?"

Some hesitated about giving a decided affirmation to that belief, when
she swiftly singled out the doubters and pressed upon them not only the
privilege, but the desirability and necessity, if they sought the truth,
of personally examining the manner in which she had been tied. After
this had been done and all scepticism had been silenced, she bade them a
cheerful "Good-by!" and closing her eyes in a weary manner, seemed to
pass into a peaceful slumber, as the lights were gradually turned off,
finally leaving the room in total darkness, and with no sound to relieve
the painful stillness save the orthodox rappings announcing the arrival
of the spirits, the hidden music stealing softly to the hushed circle or
the still softer water-wimplings from the fountains making _their_ music
in the carved marble basins.

It seemed a long time to the breathless people composing the circle, but
probably not more than ten minutes had elapsed when the raps again
startled the listeners, and in an instant the full light of the
chandeliers flooded the room.

There sat the marvellous Physical Spiritual Medium utterly free, but as
if just recovering from a swoon--the ropes, their seals unbroken, lying
a few feet from the chair.

[Illustration: _There sat the marvelous Physical-Spiritual medium,
utterly free, but as if just recovering from a swoon.--_]

There was a simultaneous rush to where she was sitting apparently limp
and exhausted from the great struggle which the spirits had had through
her human personality, to release her from bondage, during which Mlle.
Leveraux took occasion to remark that the strain upon Miss Gray's
powers had been too great, and begged that the ladies and gentlemen
would excuse her at once, as the medium's condition would unfortunately
necessitate the immediate termination of the seance for that evening;
whereupon she left the room supporting the delicate Miss Gray in a
manner that would have done credit to any theatre in the world.

There was no illusion and could have been no collusion.

Every one in the parlors had seen the woman tied so firmly that the
ropes had sunk into her very flesh. The circle had been formed so
securely as to admit of the passage out or in of no person whatever.
They had all seen her sitting in the chair in a secure condition, and
could have heard any movement on the part of any person within the
circle who might have attempted to steal to her assistance. But there
were the ropes with unbroken seals, lying there, silent but absolute
evidence that no human agency had uncoiled them.

In the face of all this, what were reasoning people to believe?

They could not but believe the one thing that they generally did believe
after having visited Evalena Gray's seances, and that was that there
_does_ exist an intercommunication between this and the "Land of the
Leal;" that all persons at times feel these spirit forces working upon
or within them in different forms and with different degrees of
intensity; and that there are these fine organisms, so free from earthly
conditions or hinderances, as to almost permit the rehabilitation of
spirit-lives which, as truly friendly aids and assistants, often perform
what seem to the comprehension of ordinary mortals as past belief,
giving in their materializations many blessed glimpses of the
spirit-land.

All of which would be thrillingly pleasant to believe and ruminate over
if it was not true that there are probably hundreds in this country
alone who can do this sort of thing without looking pale and interesting
over it; without necessitating the indorsement of a millionaire brewer
or anybody else; and who would consider it hardly fair to charge two
dollars admission, as Miss Gray did, for the utter humbug of sitting
within a circle as a woman dexterous enough to have her feet held and
then be able with the left hand to pat the right palm for a moment, then
the right arm--made bare from the wrist to the shoulder by the sudden
unloosening of a delicate elastic, clasped into the bracelet--or her
cheek, forehead, or neck, as necessity compelled, but making this
patting incessant and so like that of the two hands, that detection (in
the dark) would be a matter of impossibility; and with this same bared
right arm and hand producing all of these manifestations, ordinarily so
marvellous, even to taking a little music-box out of the pocket,
springing a catch to start the melody, "floating" it all about the heads
of those composing the circle, shutting off the music, and putting the
box in the pocket; or even neatly balancing a wine-glass of water upon
the head.

And when this was all done, without claiming any particular nearness to
heaven regarding it either, I am satisfied that I have lady operatives
in my employ who can step into a room adjoining a seance-parlor, adjust
a rubber jacket, inflate it, hiding the tube of the same under a
closely-fitting collar, allow themselves to be tied so that the ropes
would seem to cruelly sink into the flesh; and that, after a room had
been darkened ten minutes they would be able to have allowed the air to
so escape from the rubber jacket, that, with the contraction of the form
possible to many, the ropes, with unbroken seals, would almost fall from
their forms of their own weight.

This is precisely how Miss Evalena Gray performed her tricks.

They did not reach to the dignity of respectable sleight-of-hand; and I
could go on endlessly multiplying these farces, which are so
continuously and disgustingly played upon the public for just what money
they will bring and nothing more; for who ever saw a Spiritualist that
went about the world bringing ministering spirits from heaven to earth
for the good such materializations might do? And further, who ever saw a
Spiritualistic medium, preacher or lecturer that did not make his
religious faith, assumed or otherwise, yield him his living, and provide
him his luxuries besides?




CHAPTER XXVII.

   After the Seance.-- Daddy, the "Accommodation Husband."-- The
      two fascinating Swindlers in Council.-- Miss Evalena's
      European Career.-- How the Millionaire Brewer was baited
      and played with.-- A Bit of Criminal History.-- A choice
      Pair.-- Mrs. Winslow's Aspirations and Resolves.


It appeared that Miss Evalena Gray and Mlle. Leveraux, and their male
companions, or affinities, did not reside at No. 19 West Twenty-first
street, but in more modest quarters farther down-town; and after the
assemblage had dispersed, the two Misses, an attendant or two, a tall,
gaunt, meek-looking fellow, whom the no longer angelical Evalena called
"Daddy," and a very fascinating young man called in the advertisements
W. Sterling Bischoff, manager, were gathered in the front parlor
previous to being driven home, when W. Sterling said quickly, and as if
suddenly recollecting something which it would not be profitable for him
to forget:

"See here, Gray; 'most forgot. Here's a note sent over from the Fifth
Avenue. None of your larks now!"

The person addressed so familiarly as Gray was none other than the
interesting Evalena, who, putting her languor aside, and snatching the
note from the "manager," said:

"Give it here, now! I'll lark if I like, and _you_ won't hinder."

"But there's Mr. Gray," persisted the manager, nodding towards the meek,
gaunt man, whose lips seemed to move, though he ventured no remark.

"Oh, Daddy don't mind, do you, Daddy?"

[Illustration: _"Oh daddy don't mind:--do you daddy?"--_]

"Daddy" was Miss Evalena Gray's husband, but was under such peculiarly
good spiritual "control" that he merely smiled a sickly smile and
murmured that he believed not.

Miss Gray proceeded to examine the note without waiting for the timid
Mr. Gray's opinion, and suddenly exclaimed:

"Gracious! I'm going right over there!"

"What for?" inquired Bischoff anxiously, while Mr. Gray's lips pursed
into the form of an unspoken inquiry; "man or woman, eh?"

"None of your business!" she answered promptly. "Here, Leveraux, help me
on with my wrappings. You drive home. A friend of mine that I haven't
seen for all the last three years is stopping over there, and wants to
see me. I may stay all night. If I shouldn't want to, I'll order a
carriage and come down in an hour or two."

The three, who were elegantly supported by this woman's juggleries,
seemed to realize that there was no use of opposing her; and without
knowing whether it was a man or woman she intended visiting at that hour
of the night, went gloomily home, while a few minutes later Miss Gray,
unannounced, and at the unseasonable hour of eleven o'clock, was
knocking at the door of Mrs. Winslow's room.

In a moment more, though Mrs. Winslow was on the point of retiring, and
was in that easy _deshabille_ in which women love to wander about, doing
a hundred unmentionable and unimportant things before getting into bed
for good, Miss Gray was pushing her lithe form through the cautiously
opened door, and at once unlimbered her tongue and her reserve; the
result of which, as noted by my operative, showed the eminent vulgarity
of the two female frauds, and illustrated the fact that whatever
pretensions they might make, their conversation alone would serve to
discover the inherent and low vileness of their character.

"Oh, you dear old fraud!" said Evalena, entering, after Mrs. Winslow had
virtuously given herself sufficient time to ascertain that there was no
evil-minded man at the door, and had gladly admitted her visitor; "if
you've got any other company, of course I won't come!"

Mrs. Winslow laughed knowingly, and then told her visitor how really
glad she was to see her. She was sincere in this, and sincerity, even in
a bad cause, is a redeeming feature.

"Well, well, you rascal," continued Miss Gray in a jolly, rollicking
sort of a way, "couldn't wait until to-morrow. Where _have_ you been,
what _have_ you been doing, and how _are_ you, anyhow? Come, now, tell
me all about yourself!"

Saying this in a kind of a rush of excitement, Miss Gray settled
herself in a corner of the luxurious sofa, pulled her feet under her to
get a more comfortable position, and like an interested philosopher,
waited for and listened to the narrative which comprised many of the
facts I have given; but instead of telling the whole truth, only gave
that part of it which made her appear to have been eminently successful
in her swindling operations, and showed life with her to have been
floating calmly upon one continuous, peaceful stream.

"And now, Evalena," said Mrs. Winslow, rounding off her story with a
great flourish over what she was to make out of Lyon, whom she described
as still madly in love with her, "where have _you_ been, and what have
_you_ been doing since I saw you at Chardon?"

The glib tongue of the marvellous Physical Spiritual Medium began at
once, and she rattled away at a terrible rate.

"Well, I've got the same husband----"

"Oh, pshaw!" interrupted Mrs. Winslow half contemptuously.

"But he's such a dear, good old fool that I can't throw him over. Why, I
can make him shrink from six feet two to two feet six by just looking at
him! Money couldn't hire such a devoted servant anywhere. He'll do just
anything I tell him; and if I want him out of the way for a few days,"
she continued with a comical wink, "I just give him a fifty-dollar bill
and say: 'Daddy, you don't look well; take a run into the country, and
I'll write for you when I want you!' He goes away then with his face
about a yard long. But he goes; and he never made a rumpus in his life!"

"Oh, that's quite another thing," said Mrs. Winslow, evidently relieved
to know that Miss Gray had had so good a reason for living so long a
time as three years with the same man.

"Yes, he's what I call an 'accommodation husband.' He accommodates me,
and I--" here Miss Gray sighed piously--"accommodate myself!"

"Exactly," remarked Mrs. Winslow, beginning to appreciate the pleasant
nature of such an arrangement.

"Well," resumed the marvellous medium, "we went all through the Ohio
towns giving _exposes_; went out through Chicago, and then down to St.
Louis. But the _expose_ business didn't pay. We found that people would
pay more money to be humbugged than to learn how some other person might
be deluded!"

"Every time!" tersely observed Mrs. Winslow.

"So at St. Louis we resolved to become Spiritualists."

"The very best thing you could have done!" said Mrs. Winslow
approvingly.

"And at Quincy," resumed Evalena, "we blossomed out. Oh, but didn't the
papers go for us, though!--called us everything."

"D----n the newspapers, anyhow!" exclaimed Mrs. Winslow in a burst of
indignation over her own wrongs.

"Oh, no, no, no! _that_ won't do. Make huge advertising bills. That's
better--much better. That's what _we_ did, and we made big money too. By
and by we came on here to New York, made a huge show, took in a vast
pile, and then went to Europe. Oh, that's the only way to do it!"

"Yes," said Mrs. Winslow with a deep sigh. "I have often felt the want
of that peculiar tone which going to Europe gives one."

"Well, we did have a gay time, though," said Miss Gray in a dreamy way,
as if ruminating over her conquests; "and at Venice--oh, that delicious,
ravishing, dreamful Venice!--I bilked a swarthy nobleman from the
mountains out of five thousand dollars. At Rome I did a swell American
out of everything he had. At Vienna, a Hungarian wine-grower fell, and I
trampled upon him as his brutes of peasants beat out the grapes in
vintage-time. At Berlin a German student killed himself for me; and at
St. Petersburg I fooled the Czar himself. But when I got back to London
I got better game than him."

"Bigger game than the Czar? Oh, my!" exclaimed Mrs. Winslow, thinking
how she had wasted her sweetness on two detectives like Bristol and Fox.

"Well, bigger game this way," pursued little Miss Gray, reasoning it out
slowly. "This Spiritualistic business can only be played on low,
ignorant people ordinarily. Get the recognition of so big a man as one
of the wealthiest brewers in Great Britain, and then, if Miss Gray has
money and can open sumptuous parlors in so fashionable a vicinity as
Madison Square, and can own a quarter of a column of the New York papers
every day, Miss Evalena Gray's fortune is made. Do you see?"

Mrs. Winslow did see, but wanted to know how she had secured such
approval.

Her companion looked at her a moment in blank astonishment; then drawing
down the corners of her mouth as if protesting against such verdancy on
the part of so old a Spiritualistic soldier as Mrs. Winslow, gave a very
expressive series of winks, broke into loud laughter, and then suggested
that if she wanted anything like _that_ explained it would be no more
than fair to order either Krug or Monopole to help her through so dreary
a recital; whereupon the latter did as requested, and after the two had
washed down a ribald toast with wine, the angelic Miss Gray continued:

"Well, you see, we came directly from St. Petersburg to London, and got
up a big excitement there right off. The _Times_ denounced us, and we
replied savagely through the _Telegraph_ at a half-crown a line. We kept
this up until all London was engaged in the controversy, and our rooms
were constantly thronged."

"What luck!" sighed Mrs. Winslow, sipping her wine.

"By and by the 'nobbies' got discussing the matter at the clubs. We
challenged examination by committees everywhere, of course, and one day
a batch of M.P.s, clergymen, merchants, and all that, came down upon us.
I picked out one man named Perkins--a brewer from the Surrey side, and
one of the wealthiest men in all England, and a man of education and
standing, too--for game right off."

"Must be lots of fools over in London," remarked Mrs. Winslow, as if
she would like to help pluck them.

"Yes," answered Miss Gray, "and millions in this country. We're going to
take a run over to Washington this winter."

"I would if I had your talent," replied her companion.

"Well," resumed the medium, "I saw Perkins was an easy-going fellow, and
I wrote him, saying it was something unusual for me to do, but as the
'spirits'"--here Miss Gray winked very hard at Mrs. Winslow, who
snickered--"had revealed to me that he was an arrant unbeliever, but at
the same time a fair, honorable man, magnanimous enough to be just--I
wished him to make a private investigation."

"'Private investigation's' good!" said Mrs. Winslow, laughing heartily.

"Certainly good for me," continued the little medium in a self-satisfied
way. "He came, though, and I gave him my tricks in my best possible
style. I pretty nearly scared him to death. Then I let him tie me, and
the old man's hands trembled as he put the ropes around my waist and
over my bosom. 'Miss Gray,' said he tenderly, 'I shall injure you!' 'Mr.
Perkins,' I replied, also tenderly, 'the good spirits will protect me.
Pull the ropes tighter!'

"He pulled the ropes tighter and tighter, and finally got me tied. Then
he darkened the room and in a few minutes I was entirely free of the
ropes of course, and I told him to raise the curtain. As soon as he did
so I left, telling him I was ill; and as soon as I could change my
dress, came back and sat down with him. I got close to him--as close as
I am to you now, Mrs. Winslow--and then, putting my right hand on his
knee, and my left hand on his shoulder----"

"Splendid!" interrupted Mrs. Winslow, pouring more wine for the
ingenuous Miss Gray, and taking some herself.

"Then," continued Miss Gray, laughing in a peculiarly wicked manner, "I
got my face pretty close to his and asked: 'Mr. Perkins, I want you to
give me an answer that you are willing to have made public. On your
honor as a man, do you not now believe in the genuineness of these
spiritual manifestations produced through me?' 'I do,' he said
passionately, throwing his arms around me, and--and I don't know what he
would have done had not Leveraux entered the room at that supreme
moment!"

[Illustration: _"Leveraux entered the room at that supreme moment."--_]

"Oh, _I_ see!" murmured the other blackmailer.

"Think of it, Mrs. Winslow!" added Miss Gray tauntingly; "think of it!
In the arms of a man who can draw his check for a million sterling--and
poor little me from Chardon, Ohio!"

"My! but you are a little rascal, though!" said Mrs. Winslow admiringly.
"I always knew you'd make an impression somewhere."

"'Leveraux!' said I indignantly, and springing from Perkins's embrace
after I had kissed him in a way that set him shaking again, 'if you ever
breathe a word of this, or annoy Mr. Perkins in any manner under heaven,
I'll kill you! Go!'

"Poor Leveraux knew her cue and replied hotly, 'I'd kill myself before
I'd do so disgraceful an act!' and then flounced out of the room."

"_What_ a pair!" exclaimed Mrs. Winslow.

"He thought I was just perfectly splendid after that; kept coming and
coming, indorsed me publicly, got wild over me; but I held him at arm's
length for months, until I thought the man would really go crazy; and
finally--well, you know I told you Daddy was an 'accommodation husband,'
and if he hadn't been one after I had tripped up one of the richest men
in all England, I would have just hired somebody to have dumped him into
the Thames, sure!"

The sparkling flow of Miss Gray's experience was here interrupted by
Mrs. Winslow's ordering another bottle of wine, and after the couple had
partaken of the same, the spicy narrative was continued:

"But now comes the fun, Winslow. I can't tell you _how_ my rope trick is
done. I've got a little addition to it that makes it a regular
sensation. It don't hurt me a particle, and allows the strongest men to
pull away with all their might."

"I'd give a thousand dollars for it, Evalena," said her friend warmly.

"No good; no good for you," replied Miss Gray, critically looking over
Mrs. Winslow's splendid physical completeness. "Fact is, Winslow, you
aren't built exactly right for that kind of work. There's too much of
you to do the rope trick with eminent success. I played Daddy as my
brother, and myself for an innocent, so neatly that Perkins honestly
thought he had made a wonderful conquest. He believed it all, for he was
one of those honest fools--in fact, came near being too honest for me."

"Why, how?"

"Well, he installed me as his mistress in grand style; but, of course, I
insisted in giving seances and compelled public recognition through
_his_ public recognition of my 'wonderful spirit-power.' The man was so
infatuated that he bored me terribly with his visits. Why, I could
hardly get time to attend to business. You know we always have a stock
of ropes on hand in the seance-rooms, so that when any one objects to
the one I ordinarily use, there are always other ropes at hand that I
_can_ use. One night some fellow broke my best rope, and the next day I
was carelessly practising with another with my door unsecured. Perkins
had been down to Brighton for a week or two, and of course had to rush
over to see me the minute he got in London--to give me a 'happy
surprise,' I suppose. There I sat when he suddenly bolted into the room
and saw the thinness of the whole thing in an instant."

"What did he see?" asked Mrs. Winslow abruptly.

"You _are_ shrewd, Winslow, but you can't catch me that way; no, no, no!
But he did see the whole trick as dear as a June day. Do you think I
fainted?"

"Not much," said her companion tersely.

"No; but _he_ nearly did. He reeled and staggered as though he had been
struck by a sledge-hammer, and I saw in his face a determination to rush
from the room and denounce me to all London. It was make or break with
me then, Winslow, and with a bound I got to the door, turned the key,
and sent it crashing through a five-pound pane of glass into the street
below. Then I just whipped out this little derringer," she continued,
producing a beautifully mounted, though diminutive weapon, "just run it
right up under his eyes, and backed him into a seat."

"'Great God!' he whimpered, 'I'm undone! I'm undone!--what a very devil
you are!'

"My heart did go thumping to see the man used up so; but I had to be
rough, and said: 'Yes, I _am_ a devil, Perkins, and you must pledge me
your word--yes, you must take a solemn oath before that God you have
called upon, that you will never expose me, or I will blow your brains
out!'"

"Splendid! splendid!" ejaculated Mrs. Winslow. "Did he do it?"

"I should say he did do it! He got down on his knees and begged like a
baby. And do you know, my blood was up so then, and I so despised him
for his want of manliness, that I came within an ace of killing the
infernal booby!"

"He deserved it!" said Mrs. Winslow sympathetically.

"After I had him nearly scared to death," resumed the marvellous medium,
"I began reasoning with him, and, by being excruciatingly tender,
convinced him that by exposing me he would gain nothing, but would lose
in everything that a man of spirit prided in--honor, social reputation,
and business standing, and drew a lively picture of his disgrace at the
clubs and in social circles, and of the cartoons which would certainly
appear in _Punch_ and the other comic papers; and the result was that I
held on to his affection and his purse-strings by compelling him to feel
that my detaining him in the room and threatening to shoot him was the
only thing which prevented him from rashly ruining both. Altogether,
Winslow, I got over two thousand pounds out of him. He wasn't deprived
of a first-class mistress while I remained in London, and--and we are so
good friends now that every little while I get a splendid remittance
from him; and if I ever should want to go back, I could have the very
best in all England!"

"Well, well, well!" murmured Mrs. Winslow for the want of something
better with which to express her admiration.

"I _do_ think I played it pretty well," resumed Miss Gray; "and I made
him swallow it all, too. He really believed everything from the moment I
fell into his arms until he caught me with the ropes. I was his
spirit-wife--" another hard wink--"and he my only affinity. Leveraux
helped me in the whole thing splendidly.

"Who is Mlle. Willie Leveraux?" inquired Mrs. Winslow.

"She is a sister of Ed. Johnson, the 'bank-burster,' and a keen girl,
too," answered the medium.

"How did you happen to get hold of her?"

"Well, you see, Ed. Johnson, Mose Wogle, Frank Dean--'<DW55> Frank'--and
Dave Cummings, with Chief of Police McGillan and Detective Royal, of
Jersey City, put up a job on the First National Bank there. McGillan was
to keep everybody away from them; and he, or Royal, was to always remain
at headquarters to let the boys off if they got nabbed. They played it
as plaster-workers--Italians, you know--and began working from a room
over the bank down through the ceiling into the vault; but an old
scrub-woman about the place got suspicious, and had them arrested one
day when both McGillan and Royal happened to be in Philadelphia. They
had promised the boys help to break jail, but they failed everywhere;
and Willie, thinking to get Johnson off, went to the bank officers and
told them the whole story. They promised to help her brother, but said
her evidence would have to be corroborated. So she sent for McGillan and
Royal, got them into her rooms, then over on Thirty-seventh street, and
had a Hoboken official in a closet, with a stenographer, who took all
the conversation, which amounted to a complete confession of their
complicity. It never did any good, though. McGillan and Royal got the
most swearing done, and got clear; while Johnson and the rest of the
boys got fifteen years' solitary confinement in the New Jersey
penitentiary. It almost broke Willie down; but she is splendid help
now."

Mrs. Winslow drew a long sigh, and the two drank again to drown the
doleful feelings raised by this recital; for even high-toned and
uncaught criminals do not find the contemplation of stone walls and iron
bars by any means pleasant and refreshing; and with this lively history
of herself and her companions, the "Marvellous Physical Spiritual
Medium" called a servant, ordered a conveyance, and was driven home,
after having promised to call with her own carriage on the next day;
while Mrs. Winslow, after surveying her own magnificent physique as
reflected in the pier-glass, muttered:

"_I'll_ make an effort, go to Europe, and, like so many others, win fame
too!"

Then with a resolute toss of her head the adventuress plumped into her
bed, where, for aught we know, she carried on her vile conquests and
miserable villainies in her dreams the whole night long.




CHAPTER XXVIII.

   Mrs. Winslow demonstrates her Legal Ability.-- The "Breach of
      Promise Trial."-- A grand Rally of the Spiritualistic
      Friends of the Adventuress.-- The Jury disagree.-- Mrs.
      Winslow convicted at St. Louis of Common Barratry.-- An
      honest Judge's Rebuke.-- A new Trial.-- The Spiritualistic
      Swindler overthrown.-- Remorse and Wretchedness.


Mrs. Winslow's stay in New York was rather an interruption to Miss
Evalena Gray's business, as those two champions of the theory that earth
and heaven are connected by a spiritual hyphen only adjustable, or to be
made serviceable, by the brainless imbeciles or the remorseless sharks
of society, to the exclusion of people of purity and worth, indulged in
several lapses from sobriety, and in spiritual love-feasts of such
remarkable length and enthusiasm that W. Sterling Bischoff, Mlle.
Leveraux, and the mournful accommodation husband, "Daddy," became quite
alarmed for the result, were obliged to discontinue the marvellous
seances at No. Nineteen West Twenty-first Street--on account of the
"alarming illness of the fascinating little medium," as the manager was
careful to see that the truthful newspapers announced--and at the close
of a term of spirituous rapture of remarkable intensity and duration,
the three who were vitally interested in Miss Gray's recovery from her
peculiarly alarming illness, managed to part the loving couple, induce
the languid Evalena to return to her fascinations and fools, and sent
Mrs. Winslow to Rochester and her roguery.

Although her trip to New York had been one of prolonged dissipation,
Mrs. Winslow had evidently gained courage from it from the assurance of
Miss Gray's friendship, and through that ingenious little woman's
recitals of daring and conquest now applied herself with new vigor and
dash to her infamous work.

During her absence in New York, Superintendent Bangs and a legal
gentleman from Rochester had proceeded to the West and were rapidly
gathering in the harvest of evidence I had reaped, and which
subsequently became so serviceable.

Mrs. Winslow, seeing she had been outwitted, began diligently arranging
matters for the coming trial, and having lost the main point of
dependence which she had hoped to make in our inability to use the
evidence which she was sure Lyon's counsel could get by a liberal
expenditure of money, which she also knew must be at hand, she began the
tactics of delay, and secured a change of venue from Rochester to
Batavia, on the ground of prejudice; and, without the assistance of
counsel, boldly manoeuvred her case nearly as carefully and judiciously
as the most proficient of criminal lawyers.

Ascertaining that Lyon's counsel had secured damaging evidence against
her in those sections of country where she had previously been the
spiritualistic harlot that she was, she rapidly followed Mr. Bangs and
his companion, and through her wonderful personal magnetism, physical
force, consummate bravado, and skilful manipulations, succeeded in
securing numberless affidavits--not that she was a pure woman, but that
as far as the affiant knew, she was not a bad woman.

Some, who had given Lyon's counsel depositions comprehensive enough to
have crushed her in court, were compelled by her to depose under oath
that their previous depositions given Mr. Bangs were made under a
misapprehension of facts. Others were induced to swear that they were
mistaken in her identity, which would naturally have the effect of
breaking the chain of evidence connecting her with her numberless
different aliases, and therefore with her numberless offences against
the laws and society; so that unless our work had been, in this respect,
anything but faultless, Mr. Lyon would have certainly suffered defeat.

As the date of trial at Batavia neared, however, although the woman had
showed great skill in her management of her own case, and had got things
into as good shape for herself as nearly any lawyer in the country could
have done, she suddenly changed her decision regarding conducting the
case personally, and engaged the services of a Rochester lawyer of good
repute, who certainly would not have pleaded her cause had he at first
been aware of her character in the slightest degree.

At last the case came to trial at Batavia, Judge Williams presiding, and
was considered of sufficient importance to command the quite general
attention of newspapers, and a large number of reporters were in
attendance, while the little city had never before attracted such a
crowd of curious people, brought there and kept there by the great
interest which the trial had awakened.

Mr. Lyon seldom appeared in court, being detained in Rochester by the
faithful and still voluble Harcout, where the latter busied himself in
predicting Mrs. Winslow's downfall on account of the thorough manner in
which he had conducted matters, and in constant trips to the newspaper
and telegraph offices for the latest news concerning the progress of the
case.

At Batavia Mrs. Winslow had in some unexplainable manner worked up quite
a feeling in her behalf, and had busily engaged herself, laboring day
and night, in all the little things that form public opinion as well as
cause the application of law to individual preferences, whether justice
enters into such decisions or not.

Especially was her business ability shown in securing a jury a portion
of whom she brazenly boasted _dare_ not find for the defendant. She had
evidently given up all expectation of a verdict in her favor; but, in
perfect accord with her line of policy to annoy her victim into a
settlement, had arranged matters in every respect so that there would be
delay, that as much as possible nauseating scandal should reach the
public to react upon Lyon, and that in every way the outcome of the case
would be to belittle, bemean and disgrace him, for having had to do in
any way with so bad a woman as she knew herself to be.

The latter was a point most people's pride would prevent them from
making. She had lost that, but her active mind saw how revolting it all
would be to him, and her cupidity, greed and vindictiveness made the
prosecution a persecution that had a measure of fiendish pleasure in it
for her.

Here her mental and her pecuniary resources were again demonstrated in a
way that surprised everybody at all cognizant of her habits and history.
The cost of carrying on a case of this importance was very large. Money
had unquestionably been largely used in bribery. Many of the affidavits
she had so expeditiously secured had been purchased outright. The court
costs were no inconsiderable sum. Her lawyer, feeling somewhat doubtful
of her character, and wholly satisfied of her irresponsibility, demanded
his fee--and it was a large one--in advance. But every demand, save
those that would not injure her case by refusing, was promptly met, and
the mysterious source of supply seemed as exhaustless at the end as at
the beginning; though at all times she was a female combination of the
Artful Dodger and Job Trotter, capable of compelling confidence and
sympathy. During the progress of the trial she also had time for the
practice of her spiritualistic mummeries, and so worked upon the
ignorance, passions, and pockets of a few wealthy farmers, who were in
attendance at court, that she drove a thriving trade in revelations and
prophecies that, whatever other effect they might have, certainly
brought her large sums of money.

Although the larger amount of evidence on both sides was of a
documentary character, the case occupied nearly a week, and public
interest was wrought up to the highest possible pitch of excitement as
day after day some startling episode or dramatic incident was developed;
and finally, when Judge Williams charged the jury and that body retired
for consultation, both sides of the case had been so ably conducted,
such a terrible flood of vileness had been launched upon the community,
and so intense was the feeling against the woman on the part of the
public--who condemn with a terrible intensity when once made aware of
the danger in the heart and life of a social assassin, that the pretty
city of Batavia was all awhirl from agitation and excitement.

All this had been greatly increased by the following dispatches from St.
Louis to the Rochester papers, which had, of course, been received and
widely read in that section, and were all preceded by an item clipped
from the Detroit _Tribune_, to the effect that the notorious female,
Mrs. Winslow, had been indicted in St. Louis as a common scold, and
several public speakers therein named had better take warning. The first
dispatch read:

"The trial of Mrs. Winslow, charged with common barratry, has been
proceeding in the Four Courts all day. Scores of lawyers are here from
all parts of the West, as witnesses for the prosecution. The case
excites great interest, a similar one never having occurred in St. Louis
before."

The second and final dispatch from St. Louis on the subject was:

"The case of the notorious Mrs. Winslow, indicted for common barratry,
terminated to-day. The jury assessed her punishment to be six months'
imprisonment in the county jail."

These dispatches, with the editorial comments they evoked, had been
received during the progress of the case, and though it was too late to
offer the facts in evidence as to the woman's character, they had
intensified the feeling against her until Mrs. Winslow was given an
opportunity of realizing something of the depth of human scorn.

A day passed, but no agreement. What could it mean? the public asked.
The second day, being Sunday, passed slowly over the town, for no news
of the jury could be obtained; and though it was a raw winter's day, the
streets were full of people anxious to learn the result. Monday came and
went, and still the jury were out. Whispers of bribery now began to fly
about the city, and when the fourth day had passed with no agreement and
with repeated requests from the jury that they might be discharged, the
whole city was filled with indignation, while public resentment ran so
high that it was with some personal risk that this exponent of
Spiritualism passed to and fro between the court-room and her hotel.

Finally, it being ascertained that the jury disagreed irreconcilably,
they were called into court for their discharge, and filed solemnly into
their box. After a silence that could be felt had settled upon the vast
audience, Judge Williams wheeled around, and, facing the jury--many of
whom shrank from his severe and penetrating glance--in a voice of quiet
power, his whole bearing being one of dignified scorn, he delivered with
great solemnity the following well-deserved rebuke and protest against
the corruption of the power of the jury, and its contempt of justice and
the sacred dignity of the Court:

"GENTLEMEN OF THE JURY--I had hoped you would agree upon a verdict. The
cause is a plain one, and there is no need of a disagreement. Another
trial would be expensive to the county, and would occupy much time. A
second trial would again crowd this court-room with a throng of
auditors, who would listen day after day to the disgusting depositions
which are on file in this cause. One trial such as this is too much for
the decency and morality of any community, and another jury should never
be called to pass upon this case. It is the policy of all courts to
secure agreements from juries, and in such a case as this, more than in
almost any other, a disagreement should not be allowed.

"You are, after being out four days, irreconcilably divided. Some of
you, I know, are determined to be only guided by the evidence and the
law, as given to you by this Court. For your long and persistent
resistance of all attempts on the part of some of your number to prevent
justice, you are entitled to my sincere thanks and those of all
right-minded men in this community. Others there are upon this jury who,
I am bound to believe, have consulted only their passions and
prejudices; have deliberately ignored the evidence and the instruction
of the Court, and are anxious to perpetrate what they know or might
have known, was gross injustice. If there are such men upon this jury,
their conduct merits severest condemnation. I have great respect for the
honest convictions of jurors, even when I think they are wrong. I could
not censure jurors for honest prejudices; but I can have no respect for
men who, from base and unworthy motives, seek to secure unworthy ends.

"If any one was to look leniently upon the plaintiff, it would, of
course, be her counsel. But to make twelve honest men ever see that she
was entitled to a verdict of even one cent, is a work that transcends
human ability.

"One of the plainest principles of law applicable to all civil cases, is
that the plaintiff can only recover where there is a fair preponderance
of evidence in his favor. Upon the principal question in this case--that
is, whether or not there was an agreement of marriage between plaintiff
and defendant--they were the only witnesses. Supposing both to be
equally credible, how can the plaintiff recover when every act affirmed
by her is denied by the defendant? But are they equally credible? The
defendant is proved by the evidence to be a man of character,
reputation, and social position. Who is the plaintiff? By her own
evidence she is one who years ago deserted her husband and three
children in Wisconsin, and commenced the life of an itinerant
fortune-teller. Since then, as a clairvoyant, a mesmerist, a medium, she
has perambulated the country, professing in her handbills to predict
future events and to cure all manner of diseases by her occult arts.

"She has assumed in her travels those invariable proofs of guilt,
_aliases_. She has been proven, by her own writing, daily conversation,
and every-day conduct, to be grossly profane and indecent. By the
testimony of several unimpeached witnesses, produced by defendant, she
is shown to have been an inmate of a house, or houses, of ill-fame, and
to have committed acts of the most shocking indecency and lewdness. And
yet this is the woman whose testimony some of you have received with
absolute verity, while rejecting the testimony of the defendant as of no
value in comparison with it. The question before you was, whether
between this woman and the defendant there had been a binding contract
of marriage. There is no one of you so low that you would have entered
into such an obligation with this woman. You would have started back in
horror at such a proposition; and yet you have been so lost to decency
that you have seemed determined, by your verdict, to thrust such a
disgrace and outrage upon the defendant!

"You were told by the Court that if the plaintiff was married at the
time when she said the defendant agreed to marry her, such a promise was
absolutely void. The plaintiff had herself sworn that the promise was
made in 186--, and that she was then, and had remained for nearly two
years thereafter, a married woman. Did not the Court tell you that such
a promise was void? The Court told you that no subsequent ratification
of such a promise could make it binding. The Court further instructed
you that if the plaintiff was unchaste at the time of the promise of
marriage, and her unchastity was not known to defendant, that the
marriage contract, if entered into, was not binding. The entire record
in this case teems with the history of her licentiousness. No witness
has been so reckless as to swear that within the last ten years she has
had either virtuous habits or virtuous associations. That she was
virtuous in 1860, or rather, that if then vicious, her character in this
regard was then unknown to her neighbors in Indiana and Wisconsin, is
rendered highly probable from the evidence. But there was a period
preceding this by many years, when the maiden merged into the woman,
that the almost exhaustless evidence produced by the defendant shows to
have been a time without shame, and when her keen shrewdness and wicked
nature had already been developed to a degree of depravity beyond human
belief; and there has since been a period when the vilest inmate of the
lowest den of prostitution was happy in her virgin purity in comparison
with this woman!

"Previous to the first-mentioned time the plaintiff had followed the
army of the Southwest in its weary marches--not, however, as the
evidence discloses, for any honest purpose. She had wandered infinitely
further from purity than from her Northern home. And yet you have at
tempted to render a verdict that after all these wanderings, and after
this incomparably vile career, she is fit to become the wife of a
respectable citizen of Rochester, the mistress of his mansion, and the
sharer of his large fortune.

"You were further instructed that if a promise of marriage had been
made, and if the plaintiff had at that time been virtuous, and had
subsequently become unchaste the defendant was released from the
obligation of such a promise; what regard, in view of the evidence in
this case, have you paid to that instruction?

"Am I too severe, then, when I say that when, through four long days and
nights in your jury room, some of this jury have attempted to force a
verdict in favor of the plaintiff, notwithstanding she was not entitled
to it, and the defendant's witnesses had proven that she was utterly
unworthy of it, you have been actuated by passion and prejudice, and
have attempted to pervert justice? Had you been able to infect all your
comrades with your pestilential breath, and had a verdict in her favor
been rendered, I should certainly have set it aside immediately.

"I cannot but express my severest censure at the result of this cause at
your hands, knowing, as I cannot but know, that the same vile
machinations which have left a hideous trail of this female monster over
every portion of the land, have brought about this disagreement which is
a shame and a disgrace to yourselves, to Genesee County, and this
Court!"

The suit necessarily went over to the next term of court, over which
Judge Williams also presided, when no developments worthy of note
occurred, the same evidence being introduced, the same tactics on the
part of Mrs. Winslow--who, however, had been obliged to secure new
counsel--being attempted, and the same crowd of morbid curiosity-seekers
being in attendance.

But the woman had by this time become too well known for the slightest
hope of success, or even to enable her to receive the ordinary
consideration and protection of the Court.

Without leaving their seats the jury found for the defendant, and the
woman, defeated yet insolent and daring, passed out into the
summer-decked streets of the little city of Batavia a scorned, dreaded
being, driven from everything but infamous memory.

I was never sufficiently interested in Le Compte to trace his future,
but it is safe to say that he never visited "La belle France" and
"Paris, the beautiful, the sublime, the magnificent," in company with
the once fascinating Mrs. Winslow.

Harcout is still the pompous henchman of the harassed millionaire, Mr.
Lyon, and quite covered himself with glory from having claimed the
entire work of securing the evidence that caused the overthrow of the
adventuress.

Were I a novelist, rather than a detective and obliged to relate facts,
I could have made an effective climax by a tragic meeting between
Harcout and Mrs. Winslow, where Lilly Nettleton would have recognized
the Rev. Mr. Bland and wreaked summary vengeance upon him; but, so far
as I am aware, they never met, and the much-named social scourge is now
wearing out an inconceivably vile and wretched old age--the irrevocable
result of her course of life--an outcast and a wanderer among the lowest
classes that people portions of the Pacific <DW72> cities, with remorse
and wretchedness behind, and utter hopelessness beyond; while Mr. Lyon,
now a feeble old man, who has atoned, through regrets and humiliations,
for his part of the wrong launched through his as well as her sin upon
society, has at least become thoroughly satisfied of the thousands of
evils following in the trail of this so-called spirit-power, his fulness
of knowledge of its workings having been gained through this particular
experience with THE SPIRITUALISTS AND THE DETECTIVES.


THE END.




G. W. DILLINGHAM, Successor.

1889.          1889.

G. W. CARLETON & CO.

NEW BOOKS

AND NEW EDITIONS,

RECENTLY ISSUED BY

  G. W. DILLINGHAM, Publisher,
  Successor to G. W. CARLETON & CO.,
  33 West 23d Street, New York.

***

  The Publisher on receipt of price, will send any book
  on this Catalogue by mail, _postage free_.

***

All handsomely bound in cloth, with gilt backs suitable for libraries.


Mary J. Holmes' Novels.

  Tempest and Sunshine                        $1 50
  English Orphans                              1 50
  Homestead on the Hillside                    1 50
  'Lena Rivers                                 1 50
  Meadow Brook                                 1 50
  Dora Deane                                   1 50
  Cousin Maude                                 1 50
  Marian Grey                                  1 50
  Edith Lyle                                   1 50
  Daisy Thornton                               1 50
  Chateau D'Or                                 1 50
  Queenie Hetherton                            1 50
  Bessie's Fortune                             1 50
  Darkness and Daylight                        1 50
  Hugh Worthington                             1 50
  Cameron Pride                                1 50
  Rose Mather                                  1 50
  Ethelyn's Mistake                            1 50
  Millbank                                     1 50
  Edna Browning                                1 50
  West Lawn                                    1 50
  Mildred                                      1 50
  Forrest House                                1 50
  Madeline                                     1 50
  Christmas Stories                            1 50
  Gretchen (New)                               1 50


Charles Dickens--15 Vols.--"Carleton's Edition."

  Pickwick and Catalogue                      $1 50
  Dombey and Son                               1 50
  Bleak House                                  1 50
  Martin Chuzzlewit                            1 50
  Barnaby Rudge--Edwin Drood                   1 50
  Child's England--Miscellaneous               1 50
  Christmas Books--Two Cities                  1 50
  Oliver Twist--Uncommercial                   1 50
  David Copperfield                            1 50
  Nicholas Nickleby                            1 50
  Little Dorrit                                1 50
  Our Mutual Friend                            1 50
  Curiosity Shop--Miscellaneous                1 50
  Sketches by Boz--Hard Times                  1 50
  Great Expectations--Italy                    1 50
  _Full Sets_ in half calf bindings           50 00


Marion Harland's Novels.

  Alone                                       $1 50
  Hidden Path                                  1 50
  Moss Side                                    1 50
  Nemesis                                      1 50
  Miriam                                       1 50
  At Last                                      1 50
  Sunnybank                                    1 50
  Ruby's Husband                               1 50
  My Little Love                               1 50
  True as Steel (New)                          1 50


Augusta J. Evans' Novels.

  Beulah                                      $1 75
  Macaria                                      1 75
  Inez                                         1 75
  At the Mercy of Tiberius (New)               2 00
  St. Elmo                                     2 00
  Vashti                                       2 00
  Infelice                                     2 00


May Agnes Fleming's Novels.

  Guy Earlscourt's Wife                       $1 50
  A Wonderful Woman                            1 50
  A Terrible Secret                            1 50
  A Mad Marriage                               1 50
  Norine's Revenge                             1 50
  One Night's Mystery                          1 50
  Kate Danton                                  1 50
  Silent and True                              1 50
  Maude Percy's Secret                         1 50
  The Midnight Queen (New)                     1 50
  Heir of Charlton                             1 50
  Carried by Storm                             1 50
  Lost for a Woman                             1 50
  A Wife's Tragedy                             1 50
  A Changed Heart                              1 50
  Pride and Passion                            1 50
  Sharing Her Crime                            1 50
  A Wronged Wife                               1 50
  The Actress Daughter                         1 50
  The Queen of the Isle                        1 50


Allan Pinkerton's Works.

  Expressman and Detectives                   $1 50
  Mollie Maguires and Detectives               1 50
  Somnambulists and Detectives                 1 50
  Claude Melnotte as a Detective               1 50
  Criminal Reminiscences, etc.                 1 50
  Rail-Road Forger, etc.                       1 50
  Bank Robbers and Detectives                  1 50
  A Double Life (New)                          1 50
  Gypsies and Detectives                       1 50
  Spiritualists and Detectives                 1 50
  Model Town and Detectives                    1 50
  Strikers, Communists, etc.                   1 50
  Mississippi Outlaws, etc.                    1 50
  Bucholz and Detectives                       1 50
  Burglar's Fate and Detectives                1 50


Bertha Clay's Novels.

  Thrown on the World                         $1 50
  A Bitter Atonement                           1 50
  Love Works Wonders                           1 50
  Evelyn's Folly                               1 50
  Under a Shadow                               1 50
  Beyond Pardon                                1 50
  The Earl's Atonement                         1 50
  A Woman's Temptation                         1 50
  Repented at Leisure                          1 50
  A Struggle for a Ring                        1 50
  Lady Damer's Secret                          1 50
  Between Two Loves                            1 50
  Put Asunder (New)                            1 50


"New York Weekly" Series.

  Brownie's Triumph--Sheldon                  $1 50
  The Forsaken Bride.  do.                     1 50
  Earl Wayne's Nobility.  do.                  1 50
  Lost, a Pearle.  do.                         1 50
  Young Mrs. Charnleigh--Henshew               1 50
  His Other Wife--Ashleigh                     1 50
  A Woman's Web--Maitland                      1 50
  Curse of Everleigh--Pierce                   1 50
  Peerless Cathleen--Agnew                     1 50
  Faithful Margaret--Ashmore                   1 50
  Nick Whiffles--Robinson                      1 50
  Grinder Papers--Dallas                       1 50
  Lady Lenora--Conklin                         1 50
  Stella Rosevelt--Sheldon (New)               1 50


Miriam Coles Harris' Novels.

  Rutledge                                    $1 50
  Louie's Last Term, St. Mary's                1 50
  The Sutherlands                              1 50
  Frank Warrington                             1 50


A. S. Roe's Select Stories.

  True to the Last                            $1 50
  The Star and the Cloud                       1 50
  How Could He Help it?                        1 50
  A Long Look Ahead                            1 50
  I've Been Thinking                           1 50
  To Love and to be Loved                      1 50


Julie P. Smith's Novels.

  Widow Goldsmith's Daughter                  $1 50
  Chris and Otho                               1 50
  Ten Old Maids                                1 50
  Lucy                                         1 50
  His Young Wife                               1 50
  The Widower                                  1 50
  The Married Belle                            1 50
  Courting and Farming                         1 50
  Kiss and be Friends                          1 50
  Blossom Bud (New)                            1 50


Artemas Ward.

  Complete Comic Writings--With Biography. Portrait and 50
    illustrations                                                  $1 50


The Game of Whist.

  Pole on Whist--The English Standard Work. With the "Portland
    Rules"                                                          $ 75


Victor Hugo's Great Novel.

  Les Miserables--Translated from the French. The only complete
    edition                                                        $1 50


Mrs. Hill's Cook Book.

  Mrs. A. P. Hill's New Southern Cookery Book, and domestic
    receipts                                                       $2 00


Celia E. Gardner's Novels.

  Stolen Waters.    (In verse)                $1 50
  Broken Dreams.        do.                    1 50
  Compensation.         do.                    1 50
  A Twisted Skein.      do.                    1 50
  Tested                                       1 50
  Rich Medway                                  1 50
  A Woman's Wiles                              1 50
  Terrace Roses                                1 50


Captain Mayne Reid's Works.

  The Scalp Hunters.                          $1 50
  The Rifle Rangers.                           1 50
  The War Trail.                               1 50
  The Wood Rangers.                            1 50
  The Wild Huntress.                           1 50
  The White Chief.                             1 50
  The Tiger Hunter.                            1 50
  The Hunter's Feast.                          1 50
  Wild Life.                                   1 50
  Osceola, the Seminole.                       1 50


Popular Hand-Books.

  The Habits of Good Society--The nice points of taste and good
    manners.                                                       $1 00
  The Art of Conversation--For those who wish to be agreeable
    talkers.                                                        1 00
  The Arts of Writing, Reading and Speaking--For
    Self-Improvement.                                               1 00
  New Diamond Edition--The above three books in one volume--small
    type.                                                           1 50
  Carleton's Hand-Book of Popular Quotations.                       1 50
  Carleton's Classical Dictionary.                                    75
  1000 Legal Don'ts--By Ingersoll Lockwood.                           75
  600 Medical Don'ts--By Ferd. C. Valentine, M.D.                     75
  Address of the Dead--By Charles C. Marble.                          75
  The P. G. or Perfect Gentleman--By Ingersoll Lockwood.            1 25


Josh Billings.

  His Complete Writings--With Biography, Steel Portrait and 100
    Illustrations.      $2 00


Annie Edwardes' Novels.

  Stephen Lawrence.                           $1 50
  Susan Fielding.                              1 50
  A Woman of Fashion.                          1 50
  Archie Lovell.                               1 50


Ernest Renan's French Works.

  The Life of Jesus. Translated.              $1 75
  Lives of the Apostles.  Do.                  1 75
  The Life of St. Paul. Translated.            1 75
  The Bible in India--By Jacolliot.            2 00


Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth.

  The Hidden Hand.                            $1 75


M. M. Pomeroy (Brick).

  Sense. A serious book.                      $1 50
  Gold Dust.  Do.                              1 50
  Our Saturday Nights.                         1 50
  Nonsense. (A comic book).                    1 50
  Brick-dust.  Do.                             1 50
  Home Harmonies.                              1 50


Miscellaneous Works.

  Philosophers and Actresses--By Houssaye. Steel Portraits,
    2 vols.                                                        $4 00
  Men and Women of 18th Century--By Houssaye. Steel Portraits,
    2 vols.                                                         4 00
  Fifty Years among Authors, Books and Publishers--By J. C.
    Derby.                                                          2 00
  Children's Fairy Geography--With hundreds of beautiful
    illustrations.                                                  1 00
  An Exile's Romance--By Arthur Louis.                              1 50
  Laus Veneris, and other Poems--By Algernon Charles Swinburne.     1 50
  Sawed-off Sketches--Comic book by "Detroit Free Press Man."
    Illustrated.                                                    1 50
  Hawk-eye Sketches--Comic book by "Burlington Hawk-eye Man."
    Do.                                                             1 50
  The Culprit Fay--Joseph Rodman Drake's Poem. With 100
    illustrations.                                                  2 00
  Frankincense--By Mrs. Melinda Jennie Porter.                      1 00
  Love [L'Amour]--English Translation from Michelet's famous
  French work.                                                      1 50
  Woman [La Femme]--The Sequel to "L'Amour."  Do.  Do.            1 50
  Verdant Green--A racy English college story. With 200 comic
    illustrations.                                                  1 50
  Clear Light from the Spirit World--By Kate Irving.                1 25
  For the Sins of his Youth--By Mrs. Jane Kavanagh.                 1 50
  Mal Moulee--A splendid Novel, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox.             1 00
  A Northern Governess at the Sunny South--By Professor J. H.
    Ingraham.                                                       1 50
  Birds of a Feather Flock Together--By Edward A. Sothern, the
    actor.                                                          1 50
  The Mystery of Bar Harbor--By Alsop Leffingwell.                  1 00
  Longfellow's Home Life--By Blanche Roosevelt Machetta.
    Illustrated.                                                    1 50
  Every-Day Home Advice--For Household and Domestic Economy.        1 50
  Ladies' and Gentlemen's Etiquette Book of the best Fashionable
    Society.                                                        1 00
  Love and Marriage--A book for unmarried people. By Frederick
    Saunders.                                                       1 00
  Under the Rose--A Capital book, by the author of "East Lynne."    1 00
  So Dear a Dream--A novel by Miss Grant, author of "The Sun
    Maid."                                                          1 00
  Give me thine Heart--A capital new domestic Love Story by Roe.    1 00
  Meeting her Fate--A charming novel by the author of "Aurora
    Floyd."                                                         1 00
  Faithful to the End--A delightful domestic novel by Roe.          1 00
  So True a Love--A novel by Miss Grant, author of "The Sun
    Maid."                                                          1 00
  True as Gold--A charming domestic story by Roe.                   1 00


Humorous Works and Novels in Paper Covers.

  A Naughty Girl's Diary.                     $1 50
  A Good Boy's Diary.                            50
  It's a Way Love Has.                           25
  Abijah Beanpole in New York.                   50
  Never--Companion to "Don't."                   25
  Always--By author of "Never."                  25
  Stop--By author of "Never."                    25
  Smart Sayings of Children--Paul.             1 00
  Crazy History of the U. S.                     50
  Cats, Cooks, etc.--By E. T. Ely.               50
  Miss Varian of New York.                       50
  The Comic Liar--By Alden.                    1 50
  Store Drumming as a Fine Art.                  50
  Mrs. Spriggins--Widow Bedott.                1 50
  Phemie Frost--Ann S. Stephens.               1 50
  That Awful Boy--N. Y. Weekly.                  50
  That Bridget of Ours.  Do.                     50
  A Society Star--Chandos Fulton.                50
  Our Artist in Spain, etc.--Carleton.         1 00
  Man Abroad.                                    25


Miscellaneous Works.

  Dawn to Noon--By Violet Fane.               $1 50
  Constance's Fate.  Do.                       1 50
  Nellie Harland--Vance.                       1 00
  Lion Jack--By P. T. Barnum.                  1 50
  Jack in the Jungle.  Do.                     1 50
  Dick Broadhead.  Do.                         1 50
  How to Win in Wall Street.                     50
  The Life of Sarah Bernhardt.                   25
  Arctic Travels--By Dr. Hayes.                1 50
  Flashes from "Ouida."                        1 25
  The Story of a Day in London.                  25
  Lone Ranch--By Mayne Reid.                   1 50
  The Train Boy--Horatio Alger.                1 25
  Dan, The Detective.  Do.                     1 25
  Death Blow to Spiritualism.                    50
  The Life of Victor Hugo.                       50
  Don Quixote. Illustrated.                    1 00
  Arabian Nights.  Do.                         1 00
  Robinson Crusoe.  Do.                        1 00
  Swiss Family Robinson--Illus.                1 00
  Debatable Land--R. Dale Owen.                2 00
  Threading My Way.  Do.                       1 50
  Spiritualism--By D. D. Home.                 2 00
  Princess Nourmahal--Geo. Sand.               1 50
  Northern Ballads--E. L. Anderson.            1 00
  Stories about Doctors--Jeffreson.            1 50
  Stories about Lawyers.  Do.                  1 50


Miscellaneous Novels.

  Doctor Antonio--By Ruffini.                 $1 50
  Beatrice Cenci--From the Italian.            1 50
  The Story of Mary.                           1 50
  Madame--By Frank Lee Benedict.               1 50
  A Late Remorse.  Do.                         1 50
  Hammer and Anvil.  Do.                       1 50
  Her Friend Laurence.  Do.                    1 50
  Mignonnette--By Sangree.                     1 00
  Jessica--By Mrs. W. H. White.                1 50
  Women of To-day.  Do.                        1 50
  The Baroness--Joaquin Miller.                1 50
  One Fair Woman.  Do.                         1 50
  The Burnhams--Mrs. G. E. Stewart.            2 00
  Eugene Ridgewood--Paul James.                1 50
  Braxton's Bar--R. M. Daggett.                1 50
  Miss Beck--By Tilbury Holt.                  1 50
  A Wayward Life.                              1 00
  Winning Winds--Emerson.                      1 50
  A College Widow--C. H. Seymour.              1 50
  An Errand Girl--Johnson.                     1 50
  Ask Her, Man! Ask Her!                       1 50
  Hidden Power--T. H. Tibbles.                 1 50
  Two of Us--Calista Halsey.                     75
  Cupid on Crutches--A. B. Wood.                 75
  Parson Thorne--E. M. Buckingham.             1 50
  Errors--By Ruth Carter.                      1 50
  Unmistakable Flirtation--Garner.               75
  Wild Oats--Florence Marryat.                 1 50
  The Abbess of Jouarre--Renan.                1 00
  The Mysterious Doctor--Stanley.              1 50
  Doctor Mortimer--Fannie Bean.                1 50
  Two Brides--Bernard O'Reilly.                1 50
  Louise and I--By Chas. Dodge.                1 50
  My Queen--By Sandette.                       1 50
  Fallen among Thieves--Rayne.                 1 50
  Saint Leger--Richard B. Kimball.             1 75
  Was He Successful?--Kimball.                 1 75
  Undercurrents of Wall St.  Do.               1 75
  Romance of Student Life.  Do.                1 75
  To-day.  Do.                                 1 75
  Life in San Domingo.  Do.                    1 75
  Henry Powers, Banker.  Do.                   1 75
  Led Astray--By Octave Feuillet.              1 50
  Lava Fires--Smith.                           1 50
  The Darling of an Empire.                    1 50
  Confessions of Two.                          1 50
  Nina's Peril--By Mrs. Miller.                1 50
  Marguerite's Journal--For Girls.             1 50
  Orpheus C. Kerr--Four vols. in one.          2 00
  Spell-Bound--Alexandre Dumas.                  75
  Purple and Fine Linen--Fawcett.              1 50
  Pauline's Trial--L. D. Courtney.             1 50
  Tancredi--Dr. E. A. Wood.                    1 50
  Measure for Measure--Stanley.                1 50
  Charette--An American novel.                 1 50
  Fairfax--By John Esten Cooke.                1 50
  Hilt to Hilt.  Do.                           1 50
  Out of the Foam.  Do.                        1 50
  Hammer and Rapier.  Do.                      1 50
  Kenneth--By Sallie A. Brock.                 1 75
  Heart Hungry--Mrs. Westmoreland.             1 50
  Clifford Troupe.  Do.                        1 50
  Price of a Life--R. F. Sturgis.              1 50
  Marston Hall--L. Ella Byrd.                  1 50
  Conquered--By a New Author.                  1 50
  Tales from the Popular Operas.               1 50
  Edith Murray--Joanna Mathews.                1 50
  San Miniato--Mrs. C. V. Hamilton.            1 00
  All for Her--A Tale of New York.             1 50
  L'Assommoir--Zola's great novel.             1 00
  Vesta Vane--By L. King, R.                   1 50
  Walworth's Novels--Seven vols.               1 50




MRS. MARY J. HOLMES' WORKS.

***

  TEMPEST AND SUNSHINE.
  ENGLISH ORPHANS.
  HOMESTEAD ON HILLSIDE.
  'LENA RIVERS.
  MEADOW BROOK.
  DORA DEANE.
  COUSIN MAUDE.
  MARIAN GREY.
  EDITH LYLE.
  DAISY THORNTON.
  CHATEAU D'OR.
  QUEENIE HETHERTON.
  BESSIE'S FORTUNE.
  DARKNESS AND DAYLIGHT.
  HUGH WORTHINGTON.
  CAMERON PRIDE.
  ROSE MATHER.
  ETHELYN'S MISTAKE.
  MILLBANK.
  EDNA BROWNING.
  WEST LAWN.
  MILDRED.
  FOREST HOUSE.
  MADELINE.
  CHRISTMAS STORIES.
  GRETCHEN. (_New._)

OPINIONS OF THE PRESS.

"Mrs. Holmes' stories are universally read. Her admirers are numberless.
She is in many respects without a rival in the world of fiction. Her
characters are always life-like, and she makes them talk and act like
human beings, subject to the same emotions, swayed by the same passions,
and actuated by the same motives which are common among men and women of
every-day existence. Mrs. Holmes is very happy in portraying domestic
life. Old and young peruse her stories with great delight, for she
writes in a style that all can comprehend."--_New York Weekly._

THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW, vol. 81, page 557, says of Mrs. Mary J.
Holmes' novel "English Orphans":--"With this novel of Mrs. Holmes' we
have been charmed, and so have a pretty numerous circle of
discriminating readers to whom we have lent it. The characterization is
exquisite, especially so far as concerns rural and village life, of
which there are some pictures that deserve to be hung up in perpetual
memory of types of humanity fast becoming extinct. The dialogues are
generally brief, pointed, and appropriate. The plot seems simple, so
easily and naturally is it developed and consummated. Moreover, the
story thus gracefully constructed and written, inculcates without
obtruding, not only pure Christian morality in general, but, with
especial point and power, the dependence of true success on character,
and of true respectability on merit."

"Mrs. Holmes' stories are all of a domestic character, and their
interest, therefore, is not so intense as if they were more highly
seasoned with sensationalism, but it is of a healthy and abiding
character. The interest in her tales begins at once, and is maintained
to the close. Her sentiments are so sound, her sympathies so warm and
ready, and her knowledge of manners, character, and the varied incidents
of ordinary life is so thorough, that she would find it difficult to
write any other than an excellent tale if she were to try it."--_Boston
Banner._

***

The volumes are all handsomely printed and bound in cloth, sold
everywhere, and sent by mail, _postage free_, on receipt of price [$1.50
each], by

  G. W. DILLINGHAM, Publisher,
         _Successor to G. W. CARLETON & CO._,
              33 W. 23d St., NEW YORK.




CHARLES DICKENS' WORKS.

A NEW EDITION.


Among the many editions of the works of this greatest of English
Novelists, there has not been until _now_ one that entirely satisfies
the public demand.--Without exception, they each have some strong
distinctive objection,--either the form and dimensions of the volumes
are unhandy--or, the type is small and indistinct--or, the illustrations
are unsatisfactory--or, the binding is poor--or, the price is too high.

An entirely new edition is _now_, however, published by G. W. Carleton &
Co., of New York, which, in every respect, completely satisfies the
popular demand.--It is known as

"Carleton's New Illustrated Edition."

COMPLETE IN 15 VOLUMES.

The size and form is most convenient for holding,--the type is entirely
new, and of a clear and open character that has received the approval of
the reading community in other works.

The illustrations are by the original artists chosen by Charles Dickens
himself--and the paper, printing, and binding are of an attractive and
substantial character.

This beautiful new edition is complete in 15 volumes--at the extremely
reasonable price of $1.50 per volume, as follows:--

   1.--PICKWICK PAPERS AND CATALOGUE.
   2.--OLIVER TWIST.--UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER.
   3.--DAVID COPPERFIELD.
   4.--GREAT EXPECTATIONS--ITALY AND AMERICA.
   5.--DOMBEY AND SON.
   6.--BARNABY RUDGE AND EDWIN DROOD.
   7.--NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
   8.--CURIOSITY SHOP AND MISCELLANEOUS.
   9.--BLEAK HOUSE.
  10.--LITTLE DORRIT.
  11.--MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.
  12.--OUR MUTUAL FRIEND.
  13.--CHRISTMAS BOOKS.--TALE OF TWO CITIES.
  14.--SKETCHES BY BOZ AND HARD TIMES.
  15.--CHILD'S ENGLAND AND MISCELLANEOUS.

The first volume--Pickwick Papers--contains an alphabetical catalogue of
all of Charles Dickens' writings, with their exact positions in the
volumes.

This edition is sold by Booksellers, everywhere--and single specimen
copies will be forwarded by mail, _postage free_, on receipt of price
$1.50 by

  G. W. DILLINGHAM, Publisher,
         _Successor to G. W. CARLETON & CO._,
              33 W. 23d St., NEW YORK.




------------------------------------------------------------------------

Transcriber's Note:


Minor punctuation errors (e.g. missing or misprinted periods, commas,
and quotation marks) and poorly printed letters have been corrected
without note. Other than the corrections listed below, all spelling
variants have been left as in the original.

The following changes were made to the text:

Front Matter: EXPRESSMEN to EXPRESSMAN (6.--EXPRESSMAN AND DETECTIVES.)

p. 21: smoothy to smoothly (smoothly-shaven face)

pp. 32, 38, and 45: Lily to Lilly

p. 38: unmanagable to unmanageable (she became almost unmanageable)

p. 62: wildet to wildest (the wildest affection)

p. 68: wherupon to whereupon (whereupon she had raised)

p. 78: Bang's to Bangs's (put in Mr. Bangs's hands)

p. 94: povety-stricken to poverty-stricken (and the poverty-stricken
hovel)

p. 106: Waverly to Waverley (After taking dinner at the Waverley,)

p. 114: deshabille to deshabille (_en deshabille_)

p. 127: interspering to interspersing (interspersing it with a few)

p. 153: role to _role_ (she had assumed the _role_)

p. 158: removed duplicated "to" (better wife 'n she was to me)

p. 168: _role_ to _role_ (continue the _role_)

p. 176: removed extra "a" ("a this morning's paper" to "this morning's
paper")

p. 278: havn't to haven't (you haven't found her)

p. 311: Evalina to Evalena (upon which Miss Evalena Gray)

p. 325: Evelena to Evalena (how Miss Evalena Gray performed)

pp. 334-335 (Illustration caption), 338 and 341: Levereaux to Leveraux

Advertisements (end of book): Agusta to Augusta (Augusta J. Evans'
Novels.), Expressmen to Expressman (Expressman and Detectives), "and
Detectives" to "as a Detective" (Claude Melnotte as a Detective),
Marryatt to Marryat (Wild Oats--Florence Marryat.)

------------------------------------------------------------------------





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Spiritualists and the Detectives, by
Allan Pinkerton

*** 