The next instant Mr. Hale was at the telephone, warning the Inspector of
the impending murder. The Inspector excused himself in order to call
up Police Sub-station F and despatch men to the scene. Fifteen minutes
later he rang us up and informed us that the body had been discovered,
yet warm, in the place indicated. That evening the papers teemed with
glaring Jack-the-Strangler headlines, denouncing the brutality of
the deed and complaining about the laxity of the police. We were also
closeted with the Inspector, who begged us by all means to keep the
affair secret. Success, he said, depended upon silence.
As you know, John, Mr. Hale was a man of iron. He refused to surrender.
But, oh, John, it was terrible, nay, horrible—this awful something,
this blind force in the dark. We could not fight, could not plan, could
do nothing save hold our hands and wait. And week by week, as certain as
the rising of the sun, came the notification and death of some person,
man or woman, innocent of evil, but just as much killed by us as
though we had done it with our own hands. A word from Mr. Hale and the
slaughter would have ceased. But he hardened his heart and waited, the
lines deepening, the mouth and eyes growing sterner and firmer, and
the face aging with the hours. It is needless for me to speak of my
own suffering during that frightful period. Find here the letters and
telegrams of the M. of M., and the newspaper accounts, etc., of the
various murders.
You will notice also the letters warning Mr. Hale of certain
machinations of commercial enemies and secret manipulations of stock.
The M. of M. seemed to have its hand on the inner pulse of the business
and financial world. They possessed themselves of and forwarded to us
information which our agents could not obtain. One timely note from
them, at a critical moment in a certain deal, saved all of five millions
to Mr. Hale. At another time they sent us a telegram which probably was
the means of preventing an anarchist crank from taking my employer’s
life. We captured the man on his arrival and turned him over to the
police, who found upon him enough of a new and powerful explosive to
sink a battleship.
We persisted. Mr. Hale was grit clear through. He disbursed at the rate
of one hundred thousand per week for secret service. The aid of the
Pinkertons and of countless private detective agencies was called in,
and in addition to this thousands were upon our payroll. Our agents
swarmed everywhere, in all guises, penetrating all classes of society.
They grasped at a myriad clues; hundreds of suspects were jailed, and at
various times thousands of suspicious persons were under surveillance,
but nothing tangible came to light. With its communications the M. of
M. continually changed its method of delivery. And every messenger
they sent us was arrested forthwith. But these inevitably proved to be
innocent individuals, while their descriptions of the persons who had
employed them for the errand never tallied. On the last day of December
we received this notification:
OFFICE OF THE M. OF M., December 31, 1899.
MR. EBEN HALE, Money Baron:
Dear Sir,—Pursuant of our policy, with which we flatter ourselves you
are already well versed, we beg to state that we shall give a passport
from this Vale of Tears to Inspector Bying, with whom, because of our
attentions, you have become so well acquainted. It is his custom to be
in his private office at this hour. Even as you read this he breathes
his last.
Cordially yours,