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.
It was evident that Mrs. Speir, who was bright and quick of perception,
had discerned partially what the ultimate conclusion of the narrative
would be, and it was her excess of emotion that affected her, but as
stated she speedily recovered and the detective immediately continued
his story:
"As I said," resumed Jack, "the gentleman, Harold Stevens, confided his
child to old Mr. Canfield because he had reason to know that Jacob
Canfield was an honorable man, and he also confided to this old
fisherman a large fortune in trust, but for reasons that will never be
known he made the singular conditions that his child Amalie should be
kept in ignorance of the fortune until she was twenty-five. The old man,
fearing to keep the money, transferred the trust to the banker, a Mr.
Townsend, and left the letter of instructions, which was not found until
after forty years; and now, madam, I come into the romance. Once more I
started out to find this heir; I learned that Jacob Canfield had placed
his ward in charge of friends to care for, but we could not discover who
these friends were, and I was compelled to go it blind. I had found the
picture which I showed you and learned a name. I spent weeks in
prosecuting my search, and at length found a little grave in an
out-of-the-way cemetery, and on the tombstone was engraved: 'Amalie
Canfield, died December 20, 18--, aged four years.' This age about
accorded with the age of Amalie Stevens, and we were forced to conclude
that Amalie Stevens was known as Amalie Canfield. I gave up the search,
concluding that there was no heir unless Harold Stevens had left other
heirs than his own child. I have been looking for those heirs, and had
about given up all hope of ever finding them when you came to me."
There followed a moment's silence and then the woman asked:
"What do you conclude now?"
"I will tell you; I believe that Jacob Canfield did have a
granddaughter, and that this granddaughter was but a little younger than
his ward. I believe he placed his granddaughter in the care of certain
people, and that this child died, while the real heiress, Amalie
Stevens, survived."
"You believe now that Amalie Stevens survived?"
"I do."
"And why have you told me this strange, weird narrative?"
"Madam, do you not guess?"
The woman did not answer, and the detective again produced his
daguereotype, and pointed to the name Amalie Stevens.
"What does this suggest, sir?"
"That is a portrait of Amalie Stevens, and Amalie Stevens is the heiress
of Harold Stevens, and you claim to be the original of that portrait.
Madam, if this can all be substantiated you are a very wealthy woman. I
will tell you candidly, I believe you are the heiress; I believe your
claim can be established. Remember, your baby clothing was marked A. S.
We need but one more proof."
"And what is that?"
"You say your girlhood lineaments are preserved in your daughter?"
"Yes, in a most remarkable manner."
"Then all we have to do is to find your daughter, confirm your claim,
and all the evidence under present conditions is gained, and you shall
be recognized as the heiress, and the fortune will be surrendered to
you."
"Who holds this fortune?"
"I do, madam--yes, the banker is now an old man. He turned the fortune
over to me to hold in trust for any heir that might be found, or failing
that the money under the original plan as outlined in the letter was to
be mine through the banker, who under certain conditions became the
heir."
"But how will I prove all the facts in court?"
"There is nothing to prove in court; I alone am to be convinced that you
are the heiress, and all I have to do is to transfer the property over
to you--yes, let me learn, or rather, be satisfied that you are really
Amalie Stevens that was, and the whole property is yours."
"Sir, you are a most extraordinary man."
"I am?"
"You are."
"How?"
"You tell me if the heirs are not found the property is yours."
"That is true; part mine, and part goes to charity."
"And you have been searching for parties to whom you might give this
fortune?"
"No, madam, I give nothing; I've been searching for parties to whom this
fortune belongs."
"And you think it belongs to me?"
"Frankly, I do."
"Again I say you are a remarkable man, and now I will ask one favor. If
it should prove that the fortune is mine do not mention the fact to a
living soul until you receive permission from me."
"I do not recognize your right to place me under any such restriction,
but I will so agree all the same to oblige you."
"And you will never regret your decision; and now, sir, how about my
child?"
"I propose to search for your child."
There came a sad look to the face of Amalie Speir, as she said:
"If anything evil has befallen my child this fortune is yours."
"What evil do you fear?"
"There are several. One is that this baron has bewitched her. If this
shall prove true, in mercy never reveal the story of the fortune. I will
never need it, and that wretch shall never enjoy it. No, sir, if my
child has become his victim, I should wish her in her grave."
The detective did have grave misgivings as to the possible fate of the
missing girl, and knowing who she was, for in his own mind he was
perfectly satisfied, he determined to devote all his time and his best
energies to discovering what her fate might be.
"Madam," he said, "one fact is assured, since what has developed you can
trust me."
"I can; you are a noble man."
"Then do not make any efforts yourself to find your child; leave all to
me."
"I will."
The detective made a great many inquiries concerning the Richards family
with whom Amalie Speir had resided. Mrs. Speir, however, knew but little
about them. He made an arrangement, however, that he would call upon
Mrs. Speir on the following day and then went forth. He had such a
description of the young baron that he did not doubt being able to
recognize the man at a glance, and when he left the humble home of Mrs.
Speir he proceeded to the home of the Richards family.
Jack had determined upon a very novel plan in order to assure the safety
of Amalie Speir in case he should become satisfied that she had been
abducted. He had thought the matter over very calmly, and had arrived at
a very positive conclusion in one direction. He arrived at the Richards
house at a very fortunate moment, for lo, the very man he had started to
"shadow" had just issued forth. The detective recognized the man at once
and started to follow him, and saw him enter a low gambling house on the
East Side. The detective followed the man, saw him put up a few chips,
and start in to gamble. His face betrayed great anxiety, although he had
only a few dollars at stake, and he was a loser. Our hero got into the
game and bet recklessly. Jack could afford to lose when set to
accomplish a given purpose, for he had plenty of money to spare. He was
very reckless and had taken a seat beside the baron, with whom he
engaged in conversation, and soon he learned that the pretended nobleman
was "broke."
"Luck went against you," said our hero.
"Yes, it always does."
"Permit me to give you a chance to win your money back."
"Sir, you are a stranger."
"A friend in need is a friend indeed."
"But I have no right to accept your money."
"You have if I offer it to you."
"But why should you offer me money?"
"I believe your luck will change."
"Alas! no, luck is against me, I cannot lose your money."
Here an enigma confronted our hero. If this man was a fraud, as had been
represented, he would have accepted money from any source. The question
arose, Was he refusing the money fairly or was he merely playing a game?
"I have good luck as a rule," said Jack; "I will play for you."
"There is no reason, sir, why you should play for me."
The detective was more and more perplexed. He had been led to believe
that the baron was a cold-blooded fraud, and yet here he was displaying
the qualities of a proud and honorable man, with a high sense of honor.
The detective played on and luck turned in his favor. He won a little
money. The baron had gotten up from the table, but stood over our hero's
chair and occasionally a word would pass between the two young men. Jack
admitted that he was mystified--all at sea concerning the real character
of the so-called baron. He discounted prior prejudice, which, as is
known, goes a great way in forming conclusions, and yet he did not
understand the young man. Finally our hero rose from the table and said:
"My luck was much better than yours."
The baron was certainly a very handsome young man. His manners were
those of a gentleman, and his language and general demeanor indicative
of one who had been well born, and we repeat, in view of all statements
concerning the young man, our hero was mystified.
"Come," he said in an offhand way, "let's go and have some supper."
"Why do you ask me?"
"I need a companion; you are a good fellow and a loser. I am a good
fellow and a winner. You will go with me?"
"As you insist I will; you appear to be a very charming gentleman."
Jack led his new friend to a fine restaurant and they were soon seated
at a table, and our hero undertook to order a very sumptuous meal, also
some very choice wine; but later, to his surprise, he observed that the
baron did not touch the wine, and Jack said:
"You do not drink the wine?"
"No, I never drink wine."
"That is strange, seeing you are a German. Probably you prefer beer?"
"No, thank you. Yes, I am a German, but I never drink beer."
"You amaze me."
"Possibly so, but I have the best of reasons for not using any sort of
liquors."
The baron spoke good English, but there was just enough of the German
dialect to indicate that he was not an American.
"Your countrymen, as a rule, are free drinkers."
"Yes, unfortunately, yes; but I am not; I repeat, I never do drink
liquor of any sort."
"To tell the truth," said Jack, "I am not a drinking man myself. I
rarely use liquors; I really ordered the wine thinking it would be
agreeable to you."
"You were very kind."
"You made a remark," said our hero, "that I did not understand."
"Indeed?"
"Yes."
"What did I say, please?"
"You said you always had hard luck."
"It is true."
"Then why do you gamble?"
"I do not desire to air my misfortunes."
The baron spoke as a reserved gentleman would speak under the
circumstances.
"Excuse me," said Jack, "I did not put the question in a specific
manner, but only in a general way."
"You appear to be a good fellow. I will answer you frankly. I gamble
because I want the money."
"It's a poor way to get money."
"Yes, I know it, but I am very poor. I have a small remittance, not
sufficient to support me. I was not reared to labor--indeed, I do not
know what to do. I am half-inclined to put a pistol to my head and end
it all."
Jack was more and more amazed. The young man talked less like a rogue
than any individual he had met in a long time. He meditated a moment and
then said:
"I have plenty of money; possibly I can be of some service to you."
"A stranger?"
"Yes, a stranger; why not? We are both young men and have the world
before us. I will admit that I have taken a great fancy to you."
"I am very much obliged for your kind interest in me, but you cannot be
of any service."
The detective was perplexed beyond measure.