In the spring of 18--, the attention of the New York police was
attracted by the many cases of well-known men found drowned in the
various waters surrounding the lower portion of our great city. Among
these may be mentioned the name of Elwood Henderson, the noted tea
merchant, whose remains were washed ashore at Redhook Point; and of
Christopher Bigelow, who was picked up off Governor's Island after
having been in the water for five days, and of another well-known
millionaire whose name I cannot now recall, but who, I remember, was
seen to walk towards the East River one March evening, and was not met
with again till the 5th of April, when his body floated into one of the
docks near Peck's Slip.
As it seemed highly improbable that there should have been a concerted
action among so many wealthy and distinguished men to end their lives
within a few weeks of each other, and all by the same method of
drowning, we soon became suspicious that a more serious verdict than
that of suicide should have been rendered in the case of Henderson,
Bigelow, and the other gentleman I have mentioned. Yet one fact, common
to all these cases, pointed so conclusively to deliberate intention on
the part of the sufferers that we hesitated to take action.
This was, that upon the body of each of the above-mentioned persons
there were found, not only valuables in the shape of money and jewelry,
but papers and memoranda of a nature calculated to fix the identity of
the drowned man, in case the water should rob him of his personal
characteristics. Consequently, we could not ascribe these deaths to a
desire for plunder on the part of some unknown person.
I was a young man in those days, and full of ambition. So, though I said
nothing, I did not let this matter drop when the others did, but kept my
mind persistently upon it and waited, with odd results as you will hear,
for another victim to be reported at police headquarters.
Meantime I sought to discover some bond or connection between the
several men who had been found drowned, which would serve to explain
their similar fate. But all my efforts in this direction were fruitless.
There was no bond between them, and the matter remained for a while an
unsolved mystery.
Suddenly one morning a clue was placed, not in my hands, but in those of
a superior official who at that time exerted a great influence over the
whole force. He was sitting in his private room, when there was ushered
into his presence a young man of a dissipated but not unprepossessing
appearance, who, after a pause of marked embarrassment, entered upon the
following story:
"I don't know whether or no I should offer an excuse for the
communication I am about to make; but the matter I have to relate is
simply this: Being hard up last night (for though a rich man's son I
often lack money), I went to a certain pawnshop in the Bowery where I
had been told I could raise money on my prospects. This place--you may
see it some time, so I will not enlarge upon it--did not strike me
favourably; but, being very anxious for a certain definite sum of money,
I wrote my name in a book which was brought to me from some unknown
quarter and proceeded to follow the young woman who attended me into
what she was pleased to call her good master's private office.
"He may have been a good master, but he was anything but a good man. In
short, sir, when he found out who I was, and how much I needed money, he
suggested that I should make an appointment with my father at a place he
called Groll's in Grand Street, where, said he, 'your little affair will
be arranged, and you made a rich man within thirty days. That is,' he
slily added, 'unless your father has already made a will, disinheriting
you.'
"I was shocked, sir, shocked beyond all my powers of concealment, not so
much at his words, which I hardly understood, as at his looks, which had
a world of evil suggestion in them; so I raised my fist and would have
knocked him down, only that I found two young fellows at my elbows, who
held me quiet for five minutes, while the old fellow talked to me. He
asked me if I came to him on a fool's errand or really to get money; and
when I admitted that I had cherished hopes of obtaining a clear two
thousand dollars from him, he coolly replied that he knew of but one
way in which I could hope to get such an amount, and that if I was too
squeamish to adopt it, I had made a mistake in coming to his shop, which
was no missionary institution, etc., etc.
"Not wishing to irritate him, for there was menace in his eye, I asked,
with a certain weak show of being sorry for my former heat, whereabouts
in Grand Street I should find this Groll.
"The retort was quick. 'Groll is not his name,' said he, 'and Grand
Street is not where you are to go to find him. I threw out a bait to see
if you would snap at it, but I find you timid, and therefore advise you
to drop the matter entirely.'
"I was quite willing to do so, and answered him to this effect;
whereupon, with a side glance I did not understand, but which made me
more or less uneasy in regard to his intentions towards me, he motioned
to the men who held my arms to let go their hold, which they at once
did.
"'We have your signature,' growled the old man as I went out. 'If you
peach on us or trouble us in any way we will show it to your father and
that will put an end to all your hopes of future fortune.' Then raising
his voice, he shouted to the girl in the outer office, 'Let the young
man see what he has signed.'
"She smiled and again brought forward the book in which I had so
recklessly placed my name, and there at the top of the page I read these
words: 'For moneys received, I agree to notify Rube Goodman, within the
month, of the death of my father, so that he may recover from me,
without loss of time, the sum of ten thousand dollars as his part of the
amount I am bound to receive as my father's heir.'
"The sight of these lines knocked me hollow. But I am less of a coward
morally than physically, and I determined to acquaint my father at once
with what I had done, and get his advice as to whether or not I should
inform the police of my adventure. He heard me with more consideration
than I expected, but insisted that I should immediately make known to
you my experience in this Bowery pawnbroker's shop."
The officer, highly interested, took down the young man's statement in
writing, and, after getting a more accurate description of the house
itself, allowed his visitor to go.
Fortunately for me, I was in the building at the time, and was able to
respond when a man was called up to investigate this matter. Thinking
that I saw a connection between it and the various mysterious deaths of
which I have previously spoken, I entered into the affair with much
spirit. But, wishing to be sure that my possibly unwarranted conclusions
were correct, I took pains to inquire, before proceeding upon my errand,
into the character of the heirs who had inherited the property of Elwood
Henderson and Christopher Bigelow, and found that in each case there was
one among the rest who was well known for his profligacy and reckless
expenditure. It was a significant discovery, and increased, if
possible, my interest in running down this nefarious trafficker in the
lives of wealthy men.
Knowing that I could hope for no success in my character of detective, I
made an arrangement with the father of the young gentleman before
alluded to, by which I was to enter the pawnshop as an emissary of the
latter. Accordingly, I appeared there, one dull November afternoon, in
the garb of a certain Western sporting man, who, for a consideration,
allowed me the temporary use of his name and credentials.
Entering beneath the three golden balls, with the swagger and general
air of ownership I thought most likely to impose upon the self-satisfied
female who presided over the desk, I asked to see her boss.
"On your own business?" she queried, glancing with suspicion at my short
coat, which was rather more showy than elegant.
"No," I returned, "not on my own business, but on that of a young
gent----"
"Any one whose name is written here?" she interposed, reaching towards
me the famous book, over the top of which, however, she was careful to
lay her arm.
I glanced down the page she had opened and instantly detected that of
the young gentleman on whose behalf I was supposed to be there, and
nodded "Yes," with all the assurance of which I was capable.
"Come, then," said she, ushering me without more ado into a den of
discomfort where sat a man with a great beard and such heavy overhanging
eyebrows that I could hardly detect the twinkle of his eyes, keen and
incisive as they were.
Smiling upon him, but not in the same way I had upon the girl, I glanced
behind me at the open door, and above me at the partitions, which failed
to reach the ceiling. Then I shook my head and drew a step nearer.
"I have come," I insinuatingly whispered, "on behalf of a certain party
who left this place in a huff a day or so ago, but who since then has
had time to think the matter over, and has sent me with an apology which
he hopes"--here I put on a diabolical smile, copied, I declare to you,
from the one I saw at that moment on his own lips--"you will accept."
The old wretch regarded me for full two minutes in a way to unmask me
had I possessed less confidence in my disguise and in my ability to
support it.
"And what is this young gentleman's name?" he finally asked.
For reply, I handed him a slip of paper. He took it and read the few
lines written on it, after which he began to rub his palms softly
together with an unction eminently in keeping with the stray glints of
light that now and then found their way through his bushy eyebrows.
"And so the young gentleman had not the courage to come again himself?"
he softly suggested, with just the suspicion of an ironical laugh.
"Thought, perhaps, I would exact too much commission; or make him pay
too roundly for his impertinent assurance."
I shrugged my shoulders, but vouchsafed no immediate reply, and he saw
that he had to open the business himself. He did it warily and with many
an incisive question which would have tripped me up if I had not been
very much on my guard; but it all ended, as such matters usually do, in
mutual understanding, and a promise that if the young gentleman was
willing to sign a certain paper, which, by the way, was not shown me, he
would in exchange give him an address which, if made proper use of,
would lead to my patron finding himself an independent man within a very
few days.
As this address was the one thing I was most desirous of obtaining, I
professed myself satisfied with the arrangement, and proceeded to hunt
up my patron, as he was called. Informing him of the result of my visit,
I asked if his interest in ferreting out these criminals was strong
enough to lead him to sign the vile document which the pawnbroker would
probably have in readiness for him on the morrow; and being told it was,
we separated for that day, with the understanding that we were to meet
the next morning at the spot chosen by the pawnbroker for the completion
of his nefarious bargain.
Being certain that I was being followed in all my movements by the
agents of this adept in villainy, I took care, upon leaving Mr. L----,
to repair to the hotel of the sporting man I was personifying. Making
myself square with the proprietor I took up my quarters in the room of
my sporting friend, and the better to deceive any spy who might be
lurking about, I received his letters and sent out his telegrams, which,
if they did not create confusion in the affairs of "The Plunger," must
at least have occasioned him no little work the next day.
Promptly at ten o'clock on the following morning I met my patron at the
appointed place of rendezvous; and when I tell you that this was no
other than the ancient and now disused cemetery of which a portion is
still to be seen off Chatham Square, you will understand the uncanny
nature of this whole adventure, and the lurking sense there was in it of
brooding death and horror. The scene, which in these days is disturbed
by elevated railroad trains and the flapping of long lines of
parti-coloured clothes strung high up across the quiet tombstones, was
at that time one of peaceful rest, in the midst of a quarter devoted to
everything for which that rest is the fitting and desirable end; and as
we paused among the mossy stones, we found it hard to realise that in a
few minutes there would be standing beside us the concentrated essence
of all that was evil and despicable in human nature.
He arrived with a smile on his countenance that completed his ugliness,
and would have frightened any honest man from his side at once. Merely
glancing my way, he shuffled up to my companion, and leading him aside,
drew out a paper which he laid on a flat tombstone with a gesture
significant of his desire that the other should affix to it the
required signature.
Meantime I stood guard, and while attempting to whistle a light air, was
carelessly taking in the surroundings, and conjecturing, as best I
might, the reasons which had induced the old ghoul to make use of this
spot for his diabolical business, and had about decided that it was
because he was a ghoul, and thus felt at home among the symbols of
mortality, when I caught sight of two or three young fellows who were
lounging on the other side of the fence.
These were so evidently accomplices that I wondered if the two sly boys
I had engaged to stand by me through this affair had spotted them, and
would know enough to follow them back to their haunts.
A few minutes later, the old rascal came sneaking towards me, with a
gleam of satisfaction in his half-closed eyes.
"You are not wanted any longer," he grunted. "The young gentleman told
me to say that he could look out for himself now."
"The young gentleman had better pay me the round fifty he promised me,"
I grumbled in return, with that sudden change from indifference to
menace which I thought best calculated to further my plans; and
shouldering the miserable wretch aside, I stepped up to my companion,
who was still lingering in a state of hesitation among the gravestones.
"Quick! Tell me the number and street which he has given you!" I
whispered, in a tone quite out of keeping with the angry and
reproachful air I had assumed.
He was about to answer, when the old fellow came sidling up behind us.
Instantly the young man before me rose to the occasion, and putting on
an air of conciliation, said in a soothing tone:
"There, there, don't bluster. Do one thing more for me, and I will add
another fifty to that I promised you. Conjure up an anonymous
letter--you know how--and send it to my father, saying that if he wants
to know where his son loses his hundreds, he must go to the place on the
dock, opposite 5 South Street, some night shortly after nine. It would
not work with most men, but it will with my father, and when he has been
in and out of that place, and I succeed to the fortune he will leave me,
then I will remember you, and----"
"Say, too," a sinister voice here added in my ear, "that if he wishes to
effect an entrance into the gambling den which his son haunts, he must
take the precaution of tying a bit of blue ribbon in his buttonhole. It
is a signal meaning business, and must not be forgotten," chuckled the
old fellow, evidently deceived at last into thinking I was really one of
his own kind.
I answered by a wink, and taking care to attempt no further
communication with my patron, I left the two, as soon as possible, and
went back to the hotel, where I dropped "the sport," and assumed a
character and dress which enabled me to make my way undetected to the
house of my young patron, where for two days I lay low, waiting for a
suitable time in which to make my final attempt to penetrate this
mystery.
I knew that for the adventure I was now contemplating considerable
courage was required. But I did not hesitate. The time had come for me
to show my mettle. In the few communications I was enabled to hold with
my superiors I told them of my progress and arranged with them my plan
of work. As we all agreed that I was about to encounter no common
villainy, these plans naturally partook of finesse, as you will see if
you follow my narrative to the end.
Early in the evening of a cool November day I sallied forth into the
streets, dressed in the habiliments and wearing the guise of the wealthy
old gentleman whose secret guest I had been for the last few days. As he
was old and portly, and I young and spare, this disguise had cost me no
little thought and labour. But assisted as I was by the darkness, I had
but little fear of betraying myself to any chance spy who might be upon
the watch, especially as Mr. L---- had a peculiar walk, which, in my
short stay with him, I had learned to imitate perfectly. In the lapel of
my overcoat I had tied a tag of blue ribbon, and, though for all I knew
this was a signal devoting me to a secret and mysterious death, I walked
along in a buoyant condition of mind, attributable, no doubt, to the
excitement of the venture and to my desire to test my powers, even at
the risk of my life.
It was nine o'clock when I reached South Street. It was no new region
to me, nor was I ignorant of the specified drinking den on the dock to
which I had been directed. I remembered it as a bright spot in a mass of
ship-prows and bow-rigging, and was possessed, besides, of a vague
consciousness that there was something odd in connection with it which
had aroused my curiosity sufficiently in the past for me to have once
formed the resolution of seeing it again under circumstances which would
allow me to give it some attention. But I never thought that the
circumstances would involve my own life, impossible as it is for a
detective to reckon upon the future or to foresee the events into which
he will be hurried by the next crime which may be reported at police
headquarters.
There were but few persons in the street when I crossed to The Heart's
Delight--so named from the heart-shaped opening in the framework of the
door, through which shone a light, inviting enough to one chilled by the
keen November air and oppressed by the desolate appearance of the almost
deserted street. But amongst those persons I thought I recognised more
than one familiar form, and felt reassured as to the watch which had
been set upon the house.
The night was dark and the river especially so, but in the gloomy space
beyond the dock I detected a shadow blacker than the rest, which I took
for the police boat they had promised to have in readiness in case I
needed rescue from the waterside. Otherwise the surroundings were as
usual, and saving the gruff singing of some drunken sailor coming from a
narrow side street near by, no sound disturbed the somewhat lugubrious
silence of this weird and forsaken spot.
Pausing an instant before entering, I glanced up at the building, which
was about three stories high, and endeavoured to see what there was
about it which had once arrested my attention, and came to the
conclusion that it was its exceptional situation on the dock, and the
ghostly effect of the hoisting-beam projecting from the upper story like
a gibbet. And yet this beam was common to many a warehouse in the
vicinity, though in none of them were there any such signs of life as
proceeded from the curious mixture of sail loft, boat shop, and drinking
saloon, now before me. Could it be that the ban of criminality was upon
the house, and that I had been conscious of this without being able to
realise the cause of my interest?
Not stopping to solve my sensations further, I tried the door, and,
finding it yield easily to my touch, turned the knob and entered. For a
moment I was blinded by the smoky glare of the heated atmosphere into
which I stepped, but presently I was able to distinguish the vague
outlines of an oyster bar in the distance, and the motionless figures of
some half-dozen men, whose movements had been arrested by my sudden
entrance. For an instant this picture remained; then the drinking and
card playing were resumed, and I stood, as it were, alone, on the sanded
floor near the door.
Improving the opportunity for a closer inspection of the place, I was
struck by its picturesqueness. It had evidently been once used as a ship
chandlery, and on the walls, which were but partly plastered, there
still hung old bits of marlin, rusty rings, and such other evidences of
former traffic as did not interfere with the present more lucrative
business.
Below were the two bars, one at the right of the door, and the other at
the lower end of the room near a window, through whose small, square
panes I caught a glimpse of the coloured lights of a couple of
ferryboats, passing each other in midstream.
At a table near me sat two men, grumbling at each other over a game of
cards. They were large and powerful figures in the contracted space of
this long and narrow room, and my heart gave a bound of joy as I
recognised on them certain marks by which I was to know friend from foe
in this possible den of thieves and murderers.
Two sailors at the bar were bona fide habitues of the place and so were
the two other waterside characters I could faintly discern in one of the
dim corners. Meantime a man was approaching me.
Let me see if I can describe him. He was about thirty, and had the
complexion and figure of a consumptive, but his eye shone with the
yellow glare of a beast of prey, and in the cadaverous hollows of his
ashen cheeks and amid the lines about his thin drawn lips there lay, for
all his conciliatory smile, an expression so cold and yet so ferocious
that I spotted him at once as the man to whose genius we were indebted
for the new scheme of murder which I was jeopardising my life to
understand. But I allowed none of the repugnance with which he inspired
me to appear in my manner, and, greeting him with half a nod, waited for
him to speak. His voice had that smooth quality which betrays the
hypocrite.
"Has the gentleman any appointment here?" he asked, letting his glance
fall for the merest instant on the lapel of my coat.
I returned a decided affirmative. "Or rather," I went on, with a meaning
look he evidently comprehended, "my son has, and I have made up my mind
to know just what deviltry he is up to these days. I can make it worth
your while to give me the opportunity."
"Oh, I see," he assented with a glance at the pocketbook I had just
drawn out. "You want a private room from which you can watch the young
scapegrace. I understand, I understand. But the private rooms are above.
Gentlemen are not comfortable here."
"I should say not," I murmured, and drew from the pocketbook a bill
which I slid quietly into his hand. "Now take me where I shall be safe,"
I suggested, "and yet in full sight of the room where the young
gentlemen play. I wish to catch him at his tricks. Afterwards----"
"All will be well," he finished smoothly, with another glance at my blue
ribbon. "You see I do not ask you the young gentleman's name. I take
your money and leave all the rest to you. Only don't make a scandal, I
pray, for my house has the name of being quiet."
"Yes," thought I, "too quiet!" and for an instant felt my spirits fail
me. But it was only for an instant. I had friends about me and a pistol
at half-cock in the pocket of my overcoat. Why should I fear any
surprise, prepared as I was for every emergency?
"I will show you up in a moment," said he; and left me to put up a heavy
board shutter over the window opening on the river. Was this a signal or
a precaution? I glanced towards my two friends playing cards, took
another note of their broad shoulders and brawny arms, and prepared to
follow my host, who now stood bowing at the other end of the room,
before a covered staircase which was manifestly the sole means of
reaching the floor above.
The staircase was quite a feature in the room. It ran from back to
front, and was boarded all the way up to the ceiling. On these boards
hung a few useless bits of chain, wire, and knotted ends of tarred
ropes, which swung to and fro as the sharp November blast struck the
building, giving out a weird and strangely muffled sound. Why did this
sound, so easily to be accounted for, ring in my ears like a note of
warning? I understand now, but I did not then, full of expectation as I
was for developments out of the ordinary.
Crossing the room, I entered upon the staircase, in the wake of my
companion. Though the two men at cards did not look up as I passed them,
I noticed that they were alert and ready for any signal I might choose
to give them. But I was not ready to give one yet. I must see danger
before I summoned help, and there was no token of danger yet.
When we were about half-way up the stairs the faint light which had
illuminated us from below suddenly vanished, and we found ourselves in
total darkness. The door at the foot had been closed by a careful hand,
and I felt, rather than heard, the stealthy pushing of a bolt across it.
My first impulse was to forsake my guide and rush back, but I subdued
the unworthy impulse and stood quite still, while my companion,
exclaiming, "Damn that fellow! What does he mean by shutting the door
before we're half-way up!" struck a match and lit a gas jet in the room
above, which poured a flood of light upon the staircase.
Drawing my hand from the pocket in which I had put my revolver, I
hastened after him into the small landing at the top of the stairs. An
open door was before me, in which he stood bowing, with the half-burnt
match in his hand. "This is the place, sir," he announced, motioning me
in.
I entered and he remained by the door, while I passed quickly about the
room, which was bare of every article of furniture save a solitary table
and chair. There was not even a window in it, with the exception of one
small light situated so high up in the corner made by the jutting
staircase that I wondered at its use, and was only relieved of extreme
apprehension at the prison-like appearance of the place by the gleam of
light which came through this dusty pane, showing that I was not
entirely removed from the presence of my foes if I was from that of my
friends.
"Ah, you have spied the window," remarked my host, advancing toward me
with a countenance he vainly endeavoured to make reassuring and
friendly. "That is your post of observation, sir," he whispered, with a
great show of mystery. "By mounting on the table you can peer into the
room where my young friends sit securely at play."
As it was not part of my scheme to show any special mistrust, I merely
smiled a little grimly, and cast a glance at the table on which stood a
bottle of brandy and one glass.
"Very good brandy," he whispered; "not such stuff as we give those
fellows downstairs."