ON A NEW "LAY"--DOWN IN MONMOUTH COUNTY--AN APPARENT
DEFEAT--A SINGULAR CLUE--TWO COINCIDENT DATES--OLD
BERWICK--STRIKING SUGGESTIONS--ONCE AGAIN A CHANCE.
After what had occurred Mr. Townsend was prepared for anything. He had
regained his self-possession. He was a brave, nervy old gentleman; his
bravery was like that which always attends honesty.
"Please do not keep me in suspense."
"I have said those are the clothes worn by the strange man who visited
you forty years ago?"
"Yes."
"And you have not seen or heard from him since?"
"I have not."
"It is not strange."
"You can explain why?"
"I can."
"Within three hours after his visit to you he was a dead man."
"A dead man?"
"Yes."
"Did he commit suicide?"
"It is possible he did, not probable."
"Explain."
Our hero proceeded and told all the thrilling incidents of his
phenomenal "shadow," and proceeding said:
"I have proved the identity of the man now beyond all question."
"You have; but what was his name?"
"That I have not learned; I will in time; but I have learned one fact:
he came from Monmouth County, New Jersey. That is what he was trying to
say when his heart ceased its throbbings. It is not strange that Mr.
Douglas thought he was striving to say _Mon Dieu_; I know he was
striving to tell where he resided, and death stealing rapidly over him
would not permit the completion of the sentence."
"I see I employed the right man."
"I trust so."
"I am confident the mystery will be solved."
"Yes, the mystery will certainly be solved. It may take a long time, but
now I have something to work on."
"Yes, and you started without a single clue."
"I did."
Mr. Townsend meditated a few moments and then said:
"It is evident to me that you will succeed in solving this mystery; and
now let me tell you, your reward shall be the largest a detective ever
received. I will pay the reward out of my own pocket as an atonement for
my negligence."
The detective held a long consultation with Mr. Townsend and then
returned to his home, and there after his brother had removed the dead
man's clothes Jack commenced a thorough search of the clothing, despite
the fact that several people had done so before him. He went to work in
a scientific manner and spent hours over the investigation, and when he
had finished he said:
"I am not altogether satisfied, and yet it does appear as though the old
man had nothing on his person at the time he was killed, or some one
went through his clothing and secured whatever might have been in them,
and if that is so those papers are in existence somewhere. The thief
must have them, and some day I will find that man or his heirs. I have
succeeded thus far, I will succeed to the end."
Jack had made up his mind that the old man had visited New York from
Monmouth County, and he adopted a very cunningly devised scheme. On the
day following the incidents we have related Jack made his brother up in
the dead man's clothes and took a photograph. He constructed his dummy
according to the various descriptions he had received, and having the
man's clothes, and by other ingenious arrangements, he secured a very
remarkable reproduction, and remarked:
"I believe if I can meet any living man who knew the depositor of the
fortune, I shall gain a living clue."
Taking his photograph with him our hero went down to Monmouth County,
New Jersey. Jack spent six days and made about as thorough a "shadow" as
man could make, but met with no success whatever; he failed in securing
the slightest clue. He showed the portrait he had to many old men, but
none of them could recall ever having seen the original, and one night
the detective sat in his room at a little tavern where he was lodging,
and he felt quite depressed. He had made such a good start, he had
calculated to go right ahead and secure all the facts, and here he had
spent five days, working away into the night--indeed, he had devoted
eighteen hours out of the twenty-four--and had been completely baffled.
It was still comparatively early in the evening when he went down into
the barroom, and he was sitting there watching a game of high, low, jack
being played by some old fishermen. It was a pretty rough sort of night.
The wind howled without and made the shutters and casements of the old
building rattle, and finally an old man who was sitting there remarked:
"It's a pretty rough sort of night; I hope all the boys who were on the
water got in safe before this southeaster came sweeping over the
waters."
"Oh, yes, I reckon all the fishermen got in all right."
The place where our hero was located at the time was a little fishing
village on the coast, and another man remarked:
"It ain't often the boys are caught in a gale like this; they know
what's coming pretty well."
"Yes, yes, as a rule, but sometimes a mishap will overtake a man when
there is neither wind nor high seas. I often cogitate over what accident
must have befallen Jacob Canfield. He left the shore one morning when it
was as mild and fair as the brightest June day that ever dawned, and it
was pleasant and calm all day. The sun went down as serenely as it rose,
and not a ripple was on the sea--yes, it was a mild, lovely October day,
from sunrise to sunset. Jake was seen to go out in his boat, but neither
Jake nor the boat was ever seen afterward. I tell you I've never made up
my mind as to what happened him."
"I've heard about that," said one of the men; "it happened a long time
ago."
"Yes, it happened forty years ago. I don't just remember the date when
he disappeared, but it was somewhere in the middle of October, and as I
said, as fair and mild a day as though it were the middle of June, but
Jake was never seen alive afterward."
Jack was all ears and attention. Here were two suggestive incidents: a
man named Jake Canfield had disappeared forty years previously on a
beautiful October day and had never been seen since, and it was in
October when an unknown man from Monmouth County was killed on the
railroad. Jack made no demonstration; he was perfectly cool, but when an
opportunity presented he made some inquiries about the old man who had
told of the mysterious disappearance of Jake Canfield. He learned that
the old man's name was Berwick, that he had been born a few miles away
on a farm in the interior. He had been a fisherman all his life and knew
about every one that lived in the vicinity, or who had lived around
there during fifty years.
Jack betrayed no outward excitement, but inwardly he was greatly
excited. The incidents did not agree altogether, but the detective had
only heard the outlines of the tragedy. He believed he might mold the
facts down so as to fit the proofs he was seeking. He learned that old
Berwick lived only a few hundred yards away from the tavern, and was a
pretty smart old man, also well-to-do, and also that he spent most of
his time at the tavern, being too old to perform any sort of labor.
It did appear to our hero that at last his patient and careful
investigation was about to be rewarded. He did not speak to the old man
that night concerning the tragedy or the mystery of Jake Canfield's
disappearance, but he made the old man's acquaintance and engaged him in
conversation on several subjects, treated him to several glasses of hot
punch, and indeed became quite well acquainted with the old fisherman.
Jack did not wish in any way to convey the idea that he had any interest
in Jake Canfield, but when he returned to his little room and lay down
that night he lay awake a long time, his brain busy in turning over the
many possibilities. Two facts were assured, and these two facts were
very suggestive. Old Canfield had disappeared forty years previously; he
had gone away one bright October day; he had lived in Monmouth County,
and had never been seen since the day he went away on the waters off
shore--that is, so the statements of Berwick indicated.
On the following morning our hero was out bright and early. He knew the
habits of country people pretty well, and in the case in point his
conclusions were justified. He saw old Berwick going down toward the
beach. Jack followed the old man and joined him on the great spread of
sand.
"Good-morning," said Jack.
"Good-morning," came the response, and then as the old man glanced up
there came a smile to his face, and he said:
"Why, let me see, ain't you the chap I met up at the tavern last night?"
"I'm the man."
"Well, you must excuse me; you see, my sight is not as good as it was
forty years ago. I'm right glad to see you, but I say, you are out
early. I reckon you're a city chap, and city people, as a rule, don't
often see the sun rise."
"I am an early riser."
"Is that so? Well, I am out a little earlier than usual myself this
morning, for I love to come down to the beach and catch the early
morning breeze off the ocean; and to tell the truth, I felt a little
rusty after that hot punch I drank last night. I ain't much of a
drinker, but once in awhile I like a little hot stuff on a chilly night.
No, I ain't much of a drinker; when I was a young man I did not touch it
at all, and maybe that's how I've lived to such a great age--yes, I am
eighty-two years old, and I feel pretty brisk considering that I've led
a hard-working life."
"You are a wonderfully well-preserved old man. I should not have taken
you to be over seventy."
"Well, I am--yes, I am eighty-two just, and I feel pretty hearty yet."
"You've lived around here all your life?"
"Yes, I have."
"You remember a great many wrecks on this coast?"
"Do I? well, sir, my memory is just stored with sad scenes that I've
witnessed."
"You were speaking last night about a man named Jake Canfield."
"Yes, I was; Jake was a fine man, but he had hard luck--yes, he did."
"I was quite interested in that story you told about him."
"I didn't tell no great story; I merely told how he had gone out in his
boat, and how neither he nor his boat was ever seen again."
"You said you did not believe he was dead."
"Well, I never did believe he was drowned. Of course he is dead now, for
he was twenty years older than me, but he had hard luck."
"Things went against him?"
"Not in one way; Jake was a very successful man as a fisherman, and he
had money in the bank when he died, but he was very unlucky for all
that."
"Will you tell me how he was unlucky?"
"You appear to be interested."
"I am."
"You are?"
"Yes."
"How so?"
"Well, I've nothing else to do, and it's very monotonous down here, and
I am interested in old sea stories."
"Is that all?"
"Yes."
"I could tell you hundreds of them."
"I am going to get you to do so, but first tell me all about old Jake
Canfield."