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A SUCCESSFUL SHADOW;
OR,
A Detective's Successful Quest.
BY OLD SLEUTH,
_Author of All the Famous Old Sleuth Stories_.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PROLOGUE.
Chapter I
THE SAME OLD INCIDENT OF A MISSING BEAUTY--A WIDOW'S
NARRATIVE--AN AROUSED INTEREST--THE POSSIBILITIES IN
A NAME--STARTLING SUGGESTIONS--WAS IT A CLUE.
Chapter II
A MOST SINGULAR AND WONDERFUL COINCIDENCE--THE
DETECTIVE STRIKES A NEW TRAIL--A DENOUEMENT MOST
WONDERFUL--POSSIBILITIES AND PROBABILITIES BEYOND
PERADVENTURE.
Chapter III
ONE MYSTERY SOLVED--A SUCCESSFUL "SHADOW" INDEED--ON A
NEW "LAY"--IN A GAMBLING ROOM--A NEW ACQUAINTANCE--THE
DETECTIVE PERPLEXED--FALSE OR TRUE?--A RIDDLE TO BE
SOLVED.
Chapter IV
PLAYING A DEEP GAME--AN AMENDED NARRATIVE--IN THE
OPERA HOUSE--A RECOGNITION--GETTING DOWN TO FACTS BY
ACCIDENT--THE STORY OF AN EXPECTANT HEIR--GAINING A
CLEARER LIGHT.
Chapter V
A STARTLING BETRAYAL--THE CUTENESS OF THE
DETECTIVE---SUGGESTIONS THROUGH A WORD--THE BODY IN
THE BRUSH-WOOD--JACK LAYS A SCHEME--SADDEST OF ALL
CONCLUSIONS.
Chapter VI
JACK'S DEEP INTEREST IN THE AFFAIR--A NEW
GAME--BETTER PLAY--SHOTS THAT TOLD--A SCHEME
UNMASKED--A HURRIED MESSAGE--THE DETECTIVE PLAYS
SPANISH.
Chapter VII
A MEETING WITH THE BARON--STARTLING DISCLOSURES--AGAIN
THE SPANISH MILLIONAIRE--SHADOWING DOWN FOR A CHAIN OF
STEEL--THE DRAFT--A TRIUMPHANT TRICK--A DENOUEMENT TO
COME.
Chapter VIII
JACK'S GREAT DETECTIVE WORK--"WALK INTO MY MESHES,"
SAID THE DETECTIVE--A ROGUE WALKS IN--THE FORGED
ACCEPTANCE--CLOSING DOWN FOR A CONFESSION.
Chapter IX
JACK AT HIS BEST--THE HEARTLESS MILLIONAIRE--A TRICK
THAT BROUGHT RESULTS--A CONFERENCE--TERRIBLE
INTIMATIONS--THE MYSTERY CLEARED UP--SAFE BUT GREAT
WORK DEMANDED.
Chapter X
CONCLUSION.
PROLOGUE.
Those of our readers who read our narrative "Two Wonderful Detectives,"
will more especially enjoy the further adventures of Jack Alvarez. To
those who did not read that narrative we will state that this remarkable
detective had just solved a great mystery--one of the most remarkable
detective feats ever accomplished. He had found that there had been a
true heir to a great fortune which had been deposited in a most
mysterious manner with a banker, but, alas! when his "shadow" appeared
successful in one direction, he encountered a little tombstone in an
out-of-the-way graveyard, which appeared to settle beyond all dispute
that the heiress had died when a child, and the great fortune which she
would have inherited was diverted in another direction. Indeed through a
singular combination of circumstances, the detective himself became heir
to a portion of the great estate. He did not feel disposed, however, to
accept the benefice, and made up his mind that there were actual heirs
living who were through kinship entitled to the fortune. He had started
out on a former "shadow" without a clue, and in his resolve to find the
collateral heirs he also started out minus a single clue, but he was a
man, as our readers know, to discover clues, and in a most remarkable
manner he succeeded through a series of thrilling adventures in finding
a legitimate heir to an immense estate.
CHAPTER I.
THE SAME OLD INCIDENT OF A MISSING BEAUTY--A WIDOW'S
NARRATIVE--AN AROUSED INTEREST--THE POSSIBILITIES IN
A NAME--STARTLING SUGGESTIONS--WAS IT A CLUE.
"Mr. Alvarez, I am very poor; I cannot offer you a large reward, but I
have saved a few hundred dollars, and those I will give you if you are
successful in finding my lost child."
Jack Alvarez, the detective, was seated in his office when a veiled
woman entered and addressed him in the language with which we open our
narrative.
The detective was a kind-hearted man, well-to-do financially, and as it
occurred not immediately engaged on any special job. He looked the
visitor over a moment and then said:
"Madam, before I can entertain your proposition at all, I must see your
face."
"Is that necessary, sir?"
"It is."
"I am sorry."
"Why?"
"Simply because I fear that you will be so shocked you will not aid me."
"Why will I be shocked, madam? Are you a criminal?"
"I am an honest woman, sir, but oh, how bitter has been my life--yes,
sir, it has been one of humiliation and suffering, and now there has
come to me this terrible sorrow. It may prove even a greater sorrow than
I at present dare anticipate, but I trust not."
"You need not fear to show me your face."
"May I first tell you my story, sir?"
"Yes."
"I was left an orphan at a very early age. I was reared in an
institution until I was able to go out to work. I never knew my parents,
I never knew my real name. I was deserted in my infancy and I grew up to
be quite a fair-looking girl. I can say this now, sir, without any
feeling of exultation, for what beauty I may once have possessed
vanished in one night, and I am now hideous to look at. When I left the
asylum in which I had been placed I went to live with a very kind
family, and at the age of twenty I married a poor but very worthy man.
My little daughter was five years old when one night our little family
was aroused by the barking of our dog. We lived up in the country in
New York State. My husband was an invalid and slept in a room adjoining
the one I occupied with my child. As I told you, I was aroused by the
barking of our dog; I knew it meant danger, and I leaped from my bed and
instantly discovered that our little home was on fire. I rushed down the
one flight of stairs with my child in my arms, and then returned to aid
my husband to escape, but, alas! I was overcome by smoke and flame and
fell unconscious, and would have been consumed had not a neighbor rushed
in and dragged me forth. I was saved, but when the fire was subdued and
they entered the room of my husband, they found him dead. He had been
suffocated, and I, alas! was horribly disfigured for life, being
terribly burned in the face. This, sir, is a part of my story. I am
terribly scarred and, now if you still desire to see my face I will
remove my veil before continuing my story."
"Madam, you need not be ashamed to remove your veil. Your scars were
honorably won; you should be proud--yes, I will look upon your face."
The woman removed her veil, and indeed she did have two ghastly looking
scars, but she had exaggerated her disfigurement, for despite the scars
hers was not an uncomely face to look upon. Her eyes were beautiful, and
the detective was led to say with chivalrous truth and gallantry:
"Madam, you may once have been so beautiful, over-sensitiveness causes
you to exaggerate your misfortune, but enough, tell me your story. Tell
me about the loss of your child."
The woman's voice was very musical; she spoke in low tones and her
pronunciation and general demeanor betrayed the fact that gentle blood
ran in her veins.
"As I told you, sir, my husband was suffocated, and I was left a widow
with one little child, a daughter. I will not dwell upon my sorrow, but
kindly permit me to say that the horror of that catastrophe has never
passed from my mind, and I have been a sad woman; and now, alas! it
appears as though a greater sorrow were about to overwhelm me."
"Not if I can aid you, madam."
"It is refreshing and gladdening to hear you say so. I had been told
that you were a wonderful and very kind man, and a hero whom any one
could trust. I need the services of a brave, discerning man."
"And if I can serve you, madam, I will; continue your narrative."
"After the death of my husband I removed with my infant daughter to New
York City, as it was necessary that I should earn a living for my child.
I was ambitious to give my daughter a good education--yes, give her
opportunities that were never vouchsafed her mother. I was a very
skillful needlewoman, and taking cheap apartments I applied for work at
some of the large stores, and my skill soon secured me employment and I
continued to live economically in order to save money to educate my
child; and, sir, I succeeded. I worked steadily and was always
successful in securing work, for as I have said, I was a very expert
needlewoman, and so the years sped by until my child became sixteen,
and, sir, I can say that she was indeed splendidly equipped as far as
education is concerned. I intended that she should become a governess
and thus be surrounded by environments in line with her education and
refined tastes. She was always a dutiful and loving daughter, cheerful
where I was sad; hopeful where I was despondent. One year ago my
daughter became appointed as governess in a well-known family and they
treated her in the kindest manner, and became very much attached to
her--indeed they treated her more as an equal than as an employee. As I
have said, my daughter is not only very beautiful, but splendidly
educated, and during her residence with the family I have named she met
among their guests a young German, who claims to be a baron. This young
baron fell in love with her, and from what information I can obtain his
love, or pretended love, was not reciprocated by my child; and now comes
the mystery. One day my daughter went out to do a little shopping; she
has not been seen by any of her friends since, and I am almost
distracted with apprehension. She is very beautiful, as I've said, and I
felt that she was perfectly safe while living with the family where she
was employed. I was told by a person with whom I am acquainted that I
should put the affair in the hands of a detective at once, and I was
referred to you."
"And who referred you to me, madam?"
The visitor mentioned the name of a person whom our hero knew well, and
after a moment's meditation the detective demanded:
"How long has your daughter been missing?"
"It's now nearly a week since she went forth and failed to return."
"And what is the name of this baron?"
"He is known as August Wagner. He claims that is but an assumed name,
and that he is really a baron and heir to great estates in Germany."
"Did your daughter ever speak to you about this young man?"
"Yes."
"And did she show any indication to look favorably upon his professions
of attachment?"
"On the contrary, she showed the utmost aversion to him, and it is
possible that because of her aversion she has run away and hidden
herself so as to escape his attentions, or it is possible he has
persuaded her to elope with him. Her friends favor the latter idea."
"By her friends you mean the family with whom she resided?"
"Yes."
"They are favorable to the baron?"
"They appear to be, and strangely, since my daughter's disappearance
they have turned against her."
"Against your daughter?"
"Yes."
"Where is the baron?"
"He is still a visitor at the Richards' home."
"Richards is the name of the family with whom you resided?"
"Yes."
"And they still entertain the baron?"
"Yes."
"Have you seen the baron?"
"I have."
"And what does he say?"
"He says he knows nothing about my daughter."
"And he claimed to have loved her?"
"Yes."
"Does he exhibit any sorrow or anxiety?"
"He does not, and this to me appears very significant."
The detective was thoughtful. He recognized that indeed the baron's
sudden indifference was significant.
"He has not offered to aid you in finding her?"
"He has not."
"And the Richards family, do they exhibit any anxiety?"
"They do not."
"This baron is their intimate friend?"
"He appears to be."
"And they suggest that he knows where she is?"
"Not exactly; they merely declare that my daughter was not abducted,
that wherever she is her absence is voluntary."
"And the Richards family appear to have turned against your daughter?"
"Yes."
"And previously they were very fond of her?"
"Yes, apparently."
"The apparent change has come since her disappearance?"
"Yes."
"Madam, I will undertake this case. What is your daughter's name?"
"Amalie Speir."
The detective gave a start, and we will here explain the cause. Amalie
was the name of the heiress to the fortune which he at that moment held
in trust. Ordinarily there would not be much significance in two persons
having the same given name, but our hero was a man subject to wonderful
discernments--a man who builded on the slightest incident--and from that
instant he had more than an ordinary interest in the missing Amalie
Speir, and that interest within a few hours was to grow into a thrilling
intensity under later very singular coincident discoveries.