Last evening at 5:15 operative S. C. came into the office without
instructions. He had been told like the others to mail in his reports,
and keep in touch with Mr. Keenan by telephone. The excuse he gave was
that the man he was trailing had led him around so fast and so far that
it had used up all his money. I had Mr. Keenan give him some money and
call him down, and thought no more about it. Unfortunately, it appears
to-day that his disobedience has had very unfortunate results.
This morning I heard loud talking in the front office. Mr. Keenan
explained later that a queer old man had come in, and had told a long
rambling story about being persecuted. It seems that he wanted to
engage the agency to protect him. It seemed a natural enough thing--we
have had these harmless cranks before. Mr. Keenan soothed him down by
telling him we were too busy to do proper justice to his case, and
referred him to the police station. Neither of us thought anything
more about it.
This afternoon shortly before five I heard the old man's voice again in
the outer office. Mr. Keenan had stepped out to post some papers to
you. The old man was excited, and I could hear by Miss Reilly's voice
that she was very much frightened. So I went to her assistance.
I saw a bent, old man in shabby black, with wild, straggly hair, broken
teeth and red-rimmed eyes, a repulsive sight. The instant I laid eyes
on him I saw that he was not very insane. His manner was both servile
and threatening. It was like stage insanity, incoherent jabbering and
wild gestures. The girl was frightened half out of her wits.
I asked him what he wanted, and he calmed right down. His speech was
unintelligible as if he had some of those tablets in his mouth that
actors use to make their voice thick. He made no more trouble. He
bowed and smirked and backed out of the door. The last thing I heard
was a silly kind of laugh.
By this time I was full of suspicions. He had quieted down much too
quickly. Besides, there was something familiar about the horrible old
man. I had Miss Reilly enquire of the elevator boys. They said the
old man had been in three times. Last evening as well as twice to-day.
Last night he came up in the elevator with operative S. C. To-day, I
believe, he hung around down-stairs until he saw Mr. Keenan go out.
S. C. called up about this time to report that Milbourne had not left
his boarding-house all day. Mr. Keenan questioned the operative over
the phone at my prompting, and we discovered that S. C. had no proof
that Milbourne was in the house. We learned that S. C. had lost
Milbourne about 3:30 yesterday among the several entrances to a
department store. He had merely supposed that he had gone home later.
I then ventured to call up Milbourne's boarding-house. If he had been
there, I would, of course, have lost the connection, but he was not.
His landlady told me that he had telephoned her yesterday afternoon
that he had been called out of town, and not to expect him home until
to-night. Which shows how little we can depend on these operatives.
Since talking to this woman I have received D. B.'s report from inside
the house, confirming what she told me.
Puzzling over in my head what it could be that gave the old man a
familiar look, I suddenly got it. Do you remember when Milbourne first
joined Miss Hamerton's company he played the part of the old forger,
afterwards given to Richards? The management thought Milbourne's
conception was too realistic, but Milbourne himself was childishly
proud of his make-up in that part. He showed us a photograph, do you
remember? Well, that was the same old man, wrinkles, scraggly hair,
mean smile and all. The same clothes.
It is easy to figure out now what happened. After giving the operative
the slip in the department store, Milbourne went to some friend's room
or thieves' hangout and disguised himself. He then returned to the
neighbourhood of the boarding-house on 49th street and watched the
watchers there. When S. C. was relieved by A. N. at five, Milbourne
followed S. C. into the office. He was smart enough to see on his
first visit to-day that Mr. Keenan was not the real head of the office,
and so he bothered us until I betrayed myself. Hence the laugh when he
went out.
I need not say how sorry I am for the accident. I blame myself quite
as much as S. C. Luck played right into Milbourne's hand this time. I
see how important it is. He knows of the connection between you and I,
consequently all your trouble to let it be supposed that you are out of
the case goes for nothing now.
I have replaced S. C. with the new man, W. J., who came so well
recommended. I have put S. C. at clerical work. Shall I discharge him
altogether?