THE LOST TRAIL.
So saying, Sturgis settled himself in his chair and began his narrative.
"After leaving you this morning, my first step was to gain admission to
the Tombs----"
"To the Tombs?" interrupted Dunlap.
"Yes; the cabman has been remanded to the Tombs to await trial for
complicity in the murder of the unknown man whose body was found in his
cab."
"Arbogast's?"
"Yes, Arbogast's. But of course the police do not yet know that."
"Were you allowed to see the cabman?"
"Yes. As reporter of _The Tempest_, I was able to obtain an interview
with him. When first arrested, the man, whose name, by the way, is
Reilly, was incapable of making a connected statement; the lawyer
assigned to defend him laughed in his face when he heard his story,
and advised him to leave the romancing to a trained lawyer as his
only chance of escaping the electric chair. Naturally, under the
circumstances, the poor fellow hesitated to unbosom himself to a
stranger. But I finally managed to gain his confidence by showing him
that I believed his story, and that I was trying to find the men whose
scapegoat he now is. It seems that yesterday afternoon, at about three
o'clock, he was stationed at the cab-stand in front of Madison Square,
when he was accosted by a man, answering Chatham's description, who
engaged him to drive him to the Fulton Street ferry. On reaching the
ferry, the man ordered Reilly to proceed to a low grogshop on South
Street. Here he entered, returning in a few minutes to invite the
cabman to take a drink with him. The men seated themselves at a table
upon which a bottle and two filled glasses were already placed. Chatham
handed one of these glasses to Reilly, who drank it and probably many
more. At all events, he remembers nothing further until he was rudely
shaken by Chatham, who led him out into the street. Here the cold air
revived him, and he remembers noticing several things to which he did
not pay much attention at the time, but which seem significant now as
he recalls them:
"Firstly,--It was now quite dark.
"Secondly,--The cab, which had been facing south when he entered the
barroom, was now facing north.
"Thirdly,--Chatham persistently carried his left hand in the bosom of
his coat; he was very pale and seemed weak and ill.
"He with difficulty climbed upon the box beside Reilly and ordered him
to drive uptown. Presently the cabman became drowsy again. The next
thing he remembers is coming to himself after the overturning of the
cab by the cable car. That the man was drugged there can be no doubt.
It is probable that while he sat apparently drunk in the barroom,
Chatham took the cab to the Knickerbocker bank, expecting to smuggle
Arbogast into it without Reilly's knowledge;--a deep move, since it
would effectually cover up the trail, if they wanted to make away with
the bookkeeper, as they evidently did. Seymour may have met him at the
bank by appointment; but I am more inclined to believe that he was
there unknown to Chatham, and possibly for the purpose of spying upon
the latter, to see that his instructions were carried out. He lent
his accomplice a hand in the nick of time; and then, like a prudent
general, he retired to a safe position, thence to direct further
operations. What I cannot yet understand is, why Chatham should have
taken the enormous risk he did in conveying Arbogast's body from the
bank, since Seymour's intention was plainly to make away with the
bookkeeper in any event. I can explain this only on the supposition
that Seymour thought he could conceal the body in some way and prevent
it from falling into the hands of the police. On the part of any
ordinary criminal this would have been rank folly; but the resources of
such a man as Seymour are such that I do not feel disposed to criticize
his generalship in this particular without first understanding his
ultimate object. From what I have seen of his work thus far, I have
derived a profound admiration for the man's genius and cunning
deviltry. Fortunately, fate was against him this time. Its instrument
was the cable car which overturned the cab, thus delivering Arbogast's
body into the hands of the police and furnishing the key without which,
it is quite likely, Seymour might have remained forever undiscovered."
"You think, then, that you will succeed in unearthing this villain?"
asked Dunlap eagerly.
"While there's life, there's hope," said Sturgis, with grim
determination; "but I must confess that the outlook at present is
not exactly brilliant. However, let me finish my report. During the
excitement that followed the overturning of the cab, Chatham managed to
escape, as you know, and he has thus far succeeded in avoiding arrest,
although the police have kept a sharp lookout for him. Every steamship
that sails, every train that leaves New York, is watched, but thus far
without result. For my part, I am convinced that Chatham has not yet
attempted to leave the city."
"Isn't it probable, on the contrary, that he fled from New York
immediately after running away from the overturned cab?" asked Dunlap.
"I do not think so," replied Sturgis; "with his wounded hand he is a
marked man; he would be easily recognized in a strange city. His safest
hiding-place is here in New York, where he doubtless has friends ready
to conceal him. Be that as it may, he remains for the present under
cover and the scent is lost. The police are groping in the dark just
now, and,----and so am I."
The banker looked sorely disappointed.
"And so that is all you have been able to discover? Not a trace of the
money? It does not seem possible that a quarter of a million dollars
can disappear so completely without leaving the slightest trace."
"If we can ever find Seymour," replied Sturgis, "I make no doubt we
shall be able to locate the lion's share of the money.
"Yes," he added, thoughtfully, "that is all I have been able to
discover up to the present time; or, at least, all that seems to be
of any immediate importance. Of course, I called on both Mr. Murray
and Mr. Scott; but, beyond the fact that Chatham, like Arbogast, was
a model employé, all I got from them was the address of Chatham's
boarding-house; there I was informed that the accountant had moved on
New Year's eve without leaving his new address. There is one other link
in the chain of evidence which I have investigated; but I cannot tell
yet whether it will lead to anything or not. It may be immaterial; but
who knows? Possibly it may prove to be the key to the entire problem."
"And what is this promising link?" asked Dunlap eagerly.
"There is not much to tell on this score," answered Sturgis. "You will
recall that according to the evidence which we have thus far collected,
Chatham was attacked by Arbogast while he was in the act of using the
telephone."
"Yes; I remember how minutely you reconstructed that scene."
"Well," continued the reporter, "I saw at once that the telephone
might possibly prove to be an important witness for the prosecution,
if I could only discover the name of the person with whom Chatham was
talking when he was shot. I therefore called at the Central Office to
make inquiries. As I was able to specify almost the exact minute at
which this call was sent, it was an easy matter to find the young woman
who had answered it; but the chances were that she would not remember
the number called for. She did, however, for it had been fixed in
her memory by some unusual circumstances. It seems that after giving
Chatham the connection he wanted, the operator rang him up. While she
was listening for a reply, she heard a sharp report, followed by a
scream; then a sound of confused voices, and presently another sharp
report. After that came complete silence, and she was unable to obtain
any reply to her repeated calls."
"You have here corroborative evidence of the scene between Chatham and
Arbogast," said Dunlap.
"Yes; but I did not need that. What I wished to know was the name of
the person with whom Chatham wanted to converse."
"Did you discover it?"
"The number of the telephone he gave is that of the Manhattan Chemical
Company."
"And what is the Manhattan Chemical Company?"
"That is the question I asked people connected with the commercial
agencies. They replied that they knew very little concerning this firm;
because, although it has been in existence for a couple of years, it
apparently never asks any one for credit, preferring to pay cash for
all the goods delivered to it. I called at the office of the Manhattan
Chemical Company to investigate on my own account. The office and store
occupy the basement of an old ramshackle building, whose upper stories
are rented out as business offices. The laboratory and manufacturing
department are down stairs in the cellar. The store contains only a
few chairs and a long counter behind which rise shelves containing
rows of bottles with brilliantly colored labels. A few painted signs
upon the walls vaunt the merits of Dr. Henderson's Cough Cure and Dr.
Henderson's Liver Specific. I did not expect to find any one in on New
Year's day. I was, therefore, surprised to see a solitary clerk sitting
with his feet upon a desk and apparently absorbed in the reading of a
newspaper,--a pale young man of the washed-out blond type, with watery
green-blue eyes and a scant moustache which fails to conceal a weak
mouth. He rose to greet me with an air of surprise which does not speak
well for the briskness of trade in the establishment. Indeed, if we
are to judge by the aspect of things in the office of the Manhattan
Chemical Company, business in patent medicines does not appear to be
flourishing just at present. By the way, did you ever hear of Dr.
Henderson's remedies?"
"No; I cannot say that I have," answered Dunlap.
"That is the curious part of it," said Sturgis. "I have been unable to
discover any advertisement published by this firm; and it is only by
profuse advertising that such a concern can live."
"Yes, of course," exclaimed Dunlap, somewhat impatiently; "but what has
all this to do with Chatham?"
"I don't know," replied Sturgis; "possibly nothing; perhaps a great
deal."
"I asked to see Dr. Henderson," he continued, "at which the sleepy
clerk stared at me in open-mouthed amazement. Dr. Henderson was not
in; it was quite uncertain when he would be in. Indeed, as far as I
was able to judge, Dr. Henderson appears to be a rather mysterious
personage. No one knows much about him. Even his clerk admits that he
has seen him only once or twice in the eighteen months during which he
has had charge of the office. The Doctor attends to the manufacturing
part of the business himself; his laboratory, which is down in the
cellar, is a most jealously guarded place. No one is ever admitted to
it under any pretext. He is evidently afraid that some one may discover
the secret of his valuable remedies."
"You say that as if your words were meant to convey some unexpressed
meaning," said Dunlap, studying the reporter's face.
"No," Sturgis answered, thoughtfully, "but I am trying to attach some
ulterior significance to the facts. There is certainly something
mysterious about Dr. Henderson and the Manhattan Chemical Company; but
whether the mystery is legitimate or not, and if not, whether it is in
any way connected with the Arbogast case, is more than I am at present
able to determine."
After a short pause he continued:
"When I found that there was no chance of seeing Dr. Henderson himself,
I inquired at a venture for the manager. For an instant a puzzled
look lent expression to the otherwise vacuous features of the young
man. Then a sudden inspiration seemed to come to him. 'Oh! ah! yes,'
he exclaimed, 'you mean Mr. Smith.' 'Yes,' said I, catching at the
straw. 'Well, but Mr. Smith is not in either.' I offered to wait
for Mr. Smith, and started toward the door of the private office in
the rear, because it bore in prominent letters the inscription, 'NO
ADMITTANCE.' I had turned the knob before the clerk could stop me; but
the door was locked. Mr. Smith, it seems, comes to the office only
once a week to receive the clerk's report and to pay him his salary. I
tried to make a special appointment to meet Mr. Smith, on the plea of
important business. I left a fictitious name and address so that Mr.
Smith's answer might be sent to me. That was all I was able to do for
the time being; but I thought it worth while to keep an eye open on
the Manhattan Chemical Company; so I have engaged private detectives
to watch it for me night and day until further notice. And there the
matter stands."
Dunlap rose wearily from his chair. He looked anxious and care-worn.
"Mr. Sturgis," he said, "if you can find any part of that two hundred
and fifty thousand dollars, a good share of whatever you can recover
for the bank is yours."
The reporter flushed and bit his lip; but he answered quietly:
"You mistake me for a detective, Mr. Dunlap; I am only a reporter. I
shall be paid by the _Tempest_ for any work I may do on this case. You
would better offer your reward to the police."