Mr. Barnes was alone in his sanctum when an elderly gentleman of
cultured manners was ushered in. The visitor sank into a seat and began
his appeal at once.
"Oh, Mr. Barnes," said he, "I am in great distress. I hardly dared to
hope that assistance was possible until I met my friend, Mr. Leroy
Mitchel. You know him?" Mr. Barnes assented with a smile. "Well,"
continued the old gentleman, "Mr. Mitchel said that you could surely
assist me."
"Certainly. I will do all that is in my power," said the detective.
"You are very kind. I hope you can aid me. But let me tell you the
story. I am Richard Gedney, the broker. Perhaps you have heard the
name?" Mr. Barnes nodded. "I thought so. 'Old Dick,' they call me on the
street, and sometimes 'Old Nick,' but that is only their joke. I do not
believe they really dislike me, though I have grown rich. I have never
cheated any one, nor wronged a friend in my life. But that is
immaterial, except that it makes it hard to understand how any one
could have done me the great injury of stealing my daughter."
"Stealing your daughter?" interrupted the detective. "Abduction?"
"Abduction I suppose is your technical term. I call it plain stealing.
To take a girl of fourteen away from her father's home is stealing,
plain and simple."
"When did this occur?"
"Two days ago. Tuesday morning we missed her, though she may have been
taken in the night. She was slightly ill on Monday evening, and her maid
sent for our doctor, who ordered her to be put to bed and kept there.
Next morning, that is, Tuesday, he called early, as he was going out on
his rounds. He was admitted by the butler and went straight up to her
room. He came down a few minutes later, rang the door-bell to call a
servant, and reported that the child was not in her room. He left word
that she must be put back to bed and that he would return in an hour.
The butler gave the message to her maid, who became alarmed, as she
supposed her mistress to be in bed. A search was begun, but the child
had vanished."
"How is it, Mr. Gedney, that the doctor did not speak to you personally
instead of to the servant?"
"I cannot too much condemn myself. You see, I am an old whist player,
and the temptation to play made me linger so late with some friends on
Monday night that I preferred to remain in Newark where I was, and so
did not reach home till ten o'clock Tuesday morning. By that time the
misfortune had occurred."
"Have you made no discoveries as to what has become of her?"
"None. We have sent to all of our friends in the vain hope that she
might have arisen early and gone out, but no one has seen her. She has
disappeared as thoroughly as though she had been swallowed by an
earthquake. Here, however, is a letter which reached me this morning. I
cannot tell whether there is anything in it, or whether it is merely a
cruel joke perpetrated by some crank who has heard of my loss." He
handed the letter to the detective, who read as follows:
"Your daughter is safe if you are sensible. If you want her back all you
have to do is to state your figures. Make them high enough, and she'll
be with you. Put a 'Personal' in the _Herald_ for D. M., and I will
answer."
"Mr. Gedney," said Mr. Barnes, "I am afraid this is a serious case. What
has been done has been so thoroughly well accomplished that I believe we
have no fool to deal with. His is a master hand. We must begin our work
at once. I will take this up personally. Come, we must go out."
They proceeded first to the _Herald_ uptown office, and Mr. Barnes
inserted the following advertisement:
"D. M. Communicate at once, stating lowest terms. GEDNEY."
"Now we will go to your home, Mr. Gedney," said Mr. Barnes, and thither
they went.
Seating himself in a comfortable leather chair in the library, Mr.
Barnes asked that the butler should be called. The man entered the room,
and it was apparent at once that here was a good servant of the English
type.
"Moulton," began Mr. Barnes, "I am a detective. I am going to find out
where your young mistress has been taken."
"I hope so, sir," said the butler.
"Very well," said the detective. "Now answer a few questions explicitly,
and you may give me great assistance. On Tuesday morning you admitted
the doctor. At what time was it?"
"It was about eight o'clock, sir. We had just taken our seats at
breakfast in the servants' hall, when the bell rang. That is how I know
the hour. We are regular about meals in this house. We eat at eight and
the master at nine."
"What happened when you admitted the doctor?"
"He asked for Miss Nora, and I told him she was not down yet. He said he
supposed he could go up, and I said I supposed so, and he went."
"What did you do next?"
"I went back to my breakfast."
"Did you tell the maid that the doctor had called?"
"Not just then, sir, for she had not come into the breakfast-room."
"When did you tell her?"
"After I saw the doctor the second time. I heard the door-bell again and
went up, when, to my surprise, there was the doctor. He said he rang
because he did not know how else to call me. Then he said that Miss Nora
had left her room, which was against the orders he gave the night
before, and that I was to tell the maid to have her back to bed, and he
would call again. I went back to the breakfast-room. This time the maid
was there, and frightened she was when I gave her the message."
"How long was it after you admitted the doctor the first time, when you
answered his second ring?"
"I should think five minutes, sir; though it might have been ten."
"And during this five or ten minutes the maid was not in the
breakfast-room?"
"No, sir."
"Send her to me." The butler left the room, and, whilst waiting for the
maid, Mr. Barnes addressed Mr. Gedney.
"Mr. Gedney," said he, "you have not told me the name of the doctor."
"His name is Donaldson. Everybody knows Dr. Donaldson."
"Has he served you long?"
"Ever since I came to live in this neighborhood. About two years, I
should say. He has seemed to be very fond of Elinora. Why, he has been
here a half-dozen times asking for news of her since her disappearance.
He has a curious theory which I can hardly credit. He thinks she may
have wandered off in the night, asleep. But then he has not seen this
letter from 'D. M.' yet."
"I would like to speak to him about his somnambulistic idea. Do you
think he will drop in to-day?"
"He may be in at any moment, as he has not called yet this morning. Here
is my daughter's maid."
This directed the attention of Mr. Barnes to a young woman who at that
moment entered. She was evidently dreadfully alarmed at being summoned
to meet a detective, and her eyes showed that she had been weeping.
"Come, my girl," said Mr. Barnes, reassuringly, "you need not be
frightened. I am not an ogre. I only wish to ask you a few questions.
You are willing to help me find your mistress, are you not?"
"Oh, indeed, indeed yes, sir!"
"Then begin by telling me how she was on Monday night when you sent for
the doctor."
The girl composed herself with an effort, evidently satisfied that a
detective was just like any ordinary man, and replied:
"Miss Nora acted rather odd all Monday, and was melancholy like. She
would sit and stare out of the window and not answer when she was spoken
to. I thought perhaps something had bothered her, and so I left her
alone, meaning to speak to her father at dinner-time. But he sent a
telegram saying he had to go out of town. So when Miss Nora wouldn't
come down to dinner, and wouldn't answer me, but just kept staring out
of the window, I got scared a little, and thought it best to send for
Dr. Donaldson."
"What did he say when he came?"
"He talked to her, but she wouldn't answer him either. He patted her on
the head, and said she was sulky. Then he told me perhaps she was angry
because her father hadn't come home, but that she must not be allowed to
brood over trifles. He said I must put her to bed, and he gave her some
medicine that he said would put her to sleep."
"Did you have any trouble to get her to bed?"
"No, sir, though that was strange. She just stood still and let me do
everything. She did not help me or prevent me."
"When did you see her after that?"
"I never saw her after that," and she began to cry softly.
"Come, come, don't cry. Your mistress is all right. I will bring her
back. Now tell me why you did not see her again. Is it not your business
to attend her in the morning?"
"Yes, sir, but she only gets up about eight o'clock, and the doctor told
me he would call the first thing in the morning, and that I must not
disturb her till he came. He said he wanted to wake her himself and see
how she acted."
"You were not in the breakfast-room at eight o'clock," said the
detective, watching her closely; "where were you?"
The girl turned crimson, and stammered a few words inaudibly.
"Come, tell me where you were. You were somewhere, you know. Where were
you?"
"I was in the downstairs hallway," she said, slowly.
"Doing what?"
"I was talking to the policeman," she replied, more reluctantly.
"Your beau?" asked Mr. Barnes, significantly.
"No, sir. He is my husband." She tossed her head defiantly, now that her
secret was divulged.
"Your husband?" said Mr. Barnes, slightly surprised. "Why, then, did you
hesitate to tell me of him?"
"Because--because,"--she stammered, again much troubled,--"because,
maybe, if I hadn't been talking to him, Miss Nora wouldn't have been
carried off. He might have seen the thief."
"Just so," said Mr. Barnes. "Well, that will do." The girl retired only
too gladly.
Mr. Barnes asked to be shown the room where the missing girl had slept,
and made minute examinations of everything. Up in the room a thought
occurred to him, and he once more asked for the maid.
"Can you tell me," he asked, "whether your mistress took any of her
clothing with her?"
"Well, sir," she replied, "I miss the whole suit that she wore on
Monday. It looks as though she must have dressed herself."
Mr. Barnes made a few notes in his memorandum-book, and then with Mr.
Gedney returned to the library. Here they found Dr. Donaldson, who had
arrived whilst they were upstairs. Mr. Gedney introduced the doctor, a
genial, pleasant man, who shook Mr. Barnes cordially by the hand,
saying:
"I am delighted, Mr. Barnes, that my old friend Gedney has been sensible
enough to engage you to unravel this affair rather than call in the
police. The police are bunglers anyway, and only make scandal and
publicity. You have looked into the matter, eh? What do you think?"
"That is precisely the question, Doctor, which I wish to ask you. What
do you think? Mr. Gedney says you suggest somnambulism."
"I only said it might be that. I would not like to be too positive. You
know that I called to see the dear girl Monday night. Well, I found her
in a strange mood. In fact, thinking it over, I have almost convinced
myself that what we took for stubbornness--sulks, I think I called
it--was somnambulism. That, in fact, she was asleep when I saw her. That
would account for her not replying to questions, and offering no
resistance when her maid removed her clothing to put her to bed. Still
it is merely a guess. It is possible that she got up in the night and
wandered out of the house. I only venture it as a possibility, a chance
clue for you to work on."
"What do you think of this letter?" asked Mr. Barnes, handing the doctor
the anonymous communication from "D. M."
The doctor read it over twice, and then said:
"Looks more like somnambulism than ever. Don't you see? She dressed
herself in the night, and wandered off. Some scoundrel has found her and
taken her to his home. Knowing that her father has money, he holds her
for ransom."
"How do you know, Doctor," said Mr. Barnes, quietly, "that 'D. M.' is a
he? The communication is in typewriting, so that nothing can be learned
from the chirography."
"Of course I don't know it," said the doctor, testily. "Still I'll wager
that no woman ever concocted this scheme."
"Again, how should her abductor know that her father is rich?"
"Why, I suppose her name may be on her clothing, and once he discovered
her parentage, he would know that. However he found it out, it is plain
that he does know, or how could they, or he, or she, if you wish me to
be so particular, have written this letter?"
This was unanswerable, so Mr. Barnes remained silent.
"What move will you make first?" asked the doctor.
Mr. Barnes told him of the advertisement which he had inserted, and took
his departure, requesting that if Mr. Gedney received any answer he
should be notified at once.
About half-past ten the next morning, Mr. Gedney presented himself to
the detective and handed him the following letter:
"I am glad you are sensible. Saw your advertisement, and I
answer at once. I want twenty thousand dollars. That is my
price. Now note what I have to say, and let me emphasize
the fact that I mean every word. This is my first offer.
Any dickering will make me increase my price, and I will
never decrease it. To save time, let me tell you something
else. I have no partner in this, so there is no one to
squeal on me. No one on earth but myself knows where the
girl is. Now for future arrangements. You will want to
communicate with me. I don't mean you to have any chance to
catch me with decoy letters or anything of that sort. I
know already that you have that keen devil Barnes helping
you. But he'll meet his match this time. Here is my plan.
You, or your detective, I don't care which, must go to the
public telephone station in the Hoffman House at two
o'clock sharp. I will go to another, never mind where, and
will ring you up. When you answer, I will simply say, 'D.
M.' You will recognize the signal and can do the talking. I
will not answer except by letter, because I won't even run
the risk of that detective's hearing my voice, and some
time in the future recognizing it. You see, I may need
Barnes myself some day and wouldn't like to be deprived of
his valuable services. I enclose a piece of the girl's
cloth dress and a lock of her hair to show that I am
dealing square.
"D. M."
"Mr. Gedney," said Mr. Barnes, "make your mind easy. Your daughter is
safe, at all events. I suppose this bit of cloth and the hair satisfy
you that the scoundrel really has her?"
"Yes, I am convinced of that. But how does that make the girl safe?"
"The fellow wants the money. It is to his interest to be able to restore
your daughter. My business shall be to get her without payment of
ransom, and to catch the abductor. I'll meet you at the Hoffman House at
two o'clock."
As soon as Mr. Gedney had gone, Mr. Barnes wrote the following note:
"DR. DONALDSON:--
"Dear Sir--I believe that I am on the right track, and all
through the clue supplied by yourself. Please aid me a
little further. I would like to know the exact size of the
missing girl. As a physician, you will supply this even
better than the father. Also inform me of any mark or
peculiarity by which I might recognize her, alive or dead.
Please answer at once.
"Yours truly,
"J. BARNES."
This he sent by a messenger, and received the following in reply:
"MR. BARNES:--
"Dear Sir--I hope you will succeed. Elinora is small and
slim, being rather undersized for her age. I should say
about four feet ten inches, or thereabout. I know of no
distinctive mark whereby her body could be recognized, and
hope that nothing of the sort seemingly suggested may be
necessary.
"Yours truly,
"ROBERT DONALDSON, M.D."
Mr. Barnes read this, and appeared more pleased than its contents seemed
to authorize. At the appointed time he went to the Hoffman House. He
found Mr. Gedney impatiently walking up and down the lobby.
"Mr. Gedney," said he, "at the beginning of this case you offered me my
own price for recovering your daughter. Now, supposing that you pay this
ransom, it would appear that you would have had little need of my
services. If, however, I get your daughter, and save you the necessity
of paying any ransom at all, I suppose you will admit that I have earned
my reward?"
"Most assuredly."
After this, Mr. Gedney was rather startled when he heard what the
detective said to "D. M." through the telephone. They shut themselves up
in the little box, and very soon received the call and then the signal
"D. M." as agreed. Mr. Barnes spoke to the abductor, who presumably was
listening.
"We agree to your terms," said he. "That is, we will pay twenty thousand
dollars for the return of the girl unharmed. You are so shrewd that we
suppose you will invent some scheme for receiving the money which will
protect you from arrest, but at the same time we must be assured that
the girl will be returned to us unharmed. In fact, she must be given to
us as soon as the money is paid. Notify us immediately, as the father is
in a hurry."
Mr. Barnes put up the instrument and "rang off." Then he turned to Mr.
Gedney and said:
"That may surprise you. But what may astonish you more is that you must
obtain twenty thousand dollars in cash at once. We will need it. Ask no
questions, but depend upon me and trust me."
On the next day Mr. Gedney received the following letter:
"You have more sense than I gave you credit for. So has
that Barnes fellow, for it was his voice I heard through
the 'phone. You accept my terms. Very well. I'll deal
square and not raise you, though I ought to have made it
twenty-five thousand at least. Come to the 'phone to-day,
same hour, and I'll ring you up, from a different station.
Then you can tell me if you will be ready to-night, or
to-morrow night. Either will suit me. Then here is the
plan. You want to be sure the girl is all right. Then let
the ambassador be your friend, Doctor Donaldson. He knows
the girl and can tell that she is all right. Let him start
from his house at midnight, and drive from his office up
Madison Avenue rapidly till hailed by the signal 'D. M.' He
must go fast enough to prevent being followed on foot. If
there is no detective with him or following him, he will be
hailed. Otherwise he will be allowed to pass. I will be in
hiding with the girl. Warn the doctor that I will be armed,
and will have a bead on him all the time. Any treachery
will mean death. I will take the cash, give up the girl,
and the transaction will be ended."
When this was shown to the detective, he proposed that he and Mr. Gedney
should call upon the doctor. This they did, and, after some argument,
persuaded him to undertake the recovery of the girl that same night.
"Mr. Gedney has decided to obtain his child at any sacrifice," said Mr.
Barnes, "and this scoundrel is so shrewd that there seems to be no way
to entrap him. No effort will be made to follow you, so you need have no
fear of any trouble from the thief. Only be sure that you obtain the
right girl. It would be just possible that a wrong one might be given to
you, and a new ransom demanded."
"Oh, I shall know Elinora," said the doctor. "I will do this, but I
think we ought to arrest the villain, if possible."
"I do not despair of doing so," said Mr. Barnes. "Get a glimpse of his
face if you can, and be sure to note where you receive the girl. When we
get her she may give me a clue upon which an arrest may be made. We will
wait for you at Mr. Gedney's house."
After midnight that night, Mr. Gedney paced the floor anxiously, while
Mr. Barnes sat at a desk looking over some memoranda. Presently he went
into the hall and had a long talk with the butler. One o'clock passed,
and still no news. At half-past, however, horses' hoofs sounded upon the
asphalt pavement, and a few minutes later the door-bell jingled. The
door was quickly opened, and the doctor entered, bearing little Elinora
asleep in his arms.
"My daughter!" exclaimed the excited father. "Thank God, she is restored
to me!"
"Yes," said the doctor, "here she is, safe and sound. I think, though,
that she has been drugged, for she has slept ever since I received her."
"Did you have any trouble?" asked Mr. Barnes, entering at this moment.
He had lingered outside in the hall long enough to exchange a word with
the butler.
"None," said the doctor. "At One Hundred and Second Street I heard the
signal and stopped. A man came out of the shadow of a building, looked
into the carriage, said 'All right,' and asked if I had the cash. I
replied affirmatively. He went back to the sidewalk and returned with
the child in his arms, but with a pistol pointed at me. Then he said,
'Pass out the money.' I did so, and he seemed satisfied, for he gave me
the child, took the package, and ran off. I saw his face, but I fear my
description will not avail you, for I am sure he was disguised."
"Very possibly your description will be useless," said Mr. Barnes; "but
I have discovered the identity of the abductor."
"Impossible!" cried the doctor, amazed.
"Let me prove that I am right," said Mr. Barnes. He went to the door and
admitted the butler, accompanied by the policeman who had been off his
beat talking with the maid. Before his companions understood what was
about to happen, Mr. Barnes said:
"Officer, arrest that man!" Whereupon the policeman seized the doctor
and held him as though in a vise.
"What does this outrage mean?" screamed the doctor, after ineffectually
endeavoring to release himself.
"Put on the manacles, officer," said Mr. Barnes; "then we can talk. He
is armed, and might become dangerous." With the assistance of the
detective this was accomplished, and then Mr. Barnes addressed himself
to Mr. Gedney.
"Mr. Gedney, I had some slight suspicion of the truth after questioning
the butler and the maid, but the first real clue came with the answer to
the 'Personal.' You brought that to me in the morning, and I noted that
it was postmarked at the main office downtown at six A.M. Of course, it
was possible that it might have been written after the appearance of the
newspaper, but if so, the thief was up very early. The doctor, however,
knew of the 'Personal' on the day previous, as I told him of it in your
presence. That letter was written in typewriting, and I observed a
curious error in the spelling of three words. I found the words
'emphasize,' 'recognize,' and 'recognizing.' In each, instead of the
'z,' we have a repetition of the 'i,' that letter being doubled. I
happen to know something about writing-machines. I felt certain that
this letter had been written upon a Caligraph. In that machine the bar
which carries the letter 'i' is next to that which carries the letter
'z.' It is not an uncommon thing when a typewriter is out of order for
two bars to fail to pass one another. Thus, in writing 'emphasize' the
rapid writer would strike the 'z' key before the 'i' had fully
descended. The result would be that the 'z,' rising, would strike the
'i' bar and carry it up again, thus doubling the 'i,' instead of writing
'iz.' The repetition of the mistake was evidence that it was a faulty
machine. I also noted that this anonymous letter was upon paper from
which the top had been torn away. I wrote to the doctor here, asking
about the 'size' of the girl, and for any marks whereby we might be able
to 'recognize' the body. I used the words 'size' and 'recognize,' hoping
to tempt him to use them also in reply. In his answer I find the word
'recognized' and also a similar word, 'undersized.' In both we have a
repetition of the double 'i' error. Moreover, the paper of this letter
from the doctor matched that upon which the anonymous communication had
been written, provided I tore off the top, which bore his letterhead.
This satisfied me that the doctor was our man. When the last letter
came, proposing that he should be the ambassador, the trick was doubly
sure. It was ingenious, for the abductor of course assured himself that
he was not followed, and simply brought the girl home. But I set another
trap. I secretly placed a cyclometer upon the doctor's carriage. He says
that to-night he drove to One Hundred and Second Street, and back here,
a total of ten miles. The cyclometer, which the butler obtained for me
when the doctor arrived a while ago, shows that he drove less than a
mile. He simply waited at his house until the proper time to come, and
then drove here, bringing the girl with him."
The doctor remained silent, but glared venomously at the man who had
outwitted him.
"But how did he get Elinora?" asked Mr. Gedney.
"That queer yarn which he told us about somnambulism first suggested to
me that he was possibly less ignorant than he pretended to be. I fear,
Mr. Gedney, that your daughter is ill. I judge from the description of
her condition, given by her maid, and admitted by this man, that she was
suffering from an attack of catalepsy when he was summoned. When he
called the next day, finding the girl still in a trance, he quickly
dressed her and took her out to his carriage. Then he coolly returned,
announced that she was not in her room, and drove away with her."
"It seems incredible!" exclaimed Mr. Gedney. "I have known the doctor so
long that it is hard to believe that he is a criminal."
"Criminals," said Mr. Barnes, "are often created by opportunity. That
was probably the case here. The case is most peculiar. It is a crime
which none but a physician could have conceived, and that one fact makes
possible what to a casual observer might seem most improbable. An
abduction is rarely successful, because of the difficulties which attend
the crime, not the least of which are the struggles of the victim, and
the story which will be told after the return of the child. Here all
this was obviated. The doctor recognized catalepsy at the first visit.
Perhaps during the night the possibility of readily compelling you to
pay him a large sum of money grew into a tremendous temptation. With the
project half formed, he called the next morning. Circumstances favored
the design. He found the girl unattended, and unresistant because of her
condition. He likewise knew that when he should have returned her, she
could tell nothing of where she had been, because of her trance. He
started downstairs with her. There was no risk. If he had met any one,
any excuse for bringing her from her room would have been accepted,
because uttered by the family physician. He placed her in the carriage
unobserved, and the most difficult part of the affair was accomplished.
Many men of high degree are at heart rascals; but through fear, either
of law or loss of position, they lead fairly virtuous lives. Temptation,
accompanied by opportunity, coming to one of these, compasses his
downfall, as has occurred in this instance. Criminals are recruited from
all classes."
The ransom money was recovered by searching the apartments of the
doctor, and his guilt was thus indubitably proven. Mr. Mitchel,
commenting upon the affair, simply said:
"I sent you to him, Mr. Gedney, because Mr. Barnes is above his kind. He
is no ordinary detective."