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<pre>

Project Gutenberg's The Spiritualists and the Detectives, by Allan Pinkerton

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Title: The Spiritualists and the Detectives

Author: Allan Pinkerton

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Language: English

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</pre>


<div class="figcenter" style="width: 254px;">
<img id="cover" src="images/cover.jpg" width="254" height="391" alt="" title="" />
</div>

<div id="intro">
<p class="center">ALLAN PINKERTON'S<br />
<span class="lg taller">DETECTIVE STORIES.</span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 113px;">
<img class="decoline" src="images/line-1diamond-sm.png" width="113" height="9" alt="" title="" />
</div>

<p class="center smcap">Vol. V.</p>

<p class="center smcap">The Spiritualists and Detectives.</p>
</div>

<div id="ad-front">
<p class="med center taller">ALLAN PINKERTON'S<br />
<span class="lg">GREAT DETECTIVE BOOKS.</span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 113px;">
<img class="decoline" src="images/line-1diamond-sm.png" width="113" height="9" alt="" title="" />
</div>

<div class="booklist">
<p>
<span class="l-in">1.&mdash;MOLLIE MAGUIRES AND DETECTIVES.</span><br />
<span class="l-in">2.&mdash;STRIKERS, COMMUNISTS, AND DETECTIVES.</span><br />
<span class="l-in">3.&mdash;CRIMINAL REMINISCENCES AND DETECTIVES.</span><br />
<span class="l-in">4.&mdash;THE MODEL TOWN AND DETECTIVES.</span><br />
<span class="l-in">5.&mdash;SPIRITUALISTS AND DETECTIVES.</span><br />
<span class="l-in">6.&mdash;EXPRESSMAN AND DETECTIVES.</span><br />
<span class="l-in">7.&mdash;THE SOMNAMBULIST AND DETECTIVES.</span><br />
<span class="l-in">8.&mdash;CLAUDE MELNOTTE AS A DETECTIVE.</span><br />
<span class="l-in">9.&mdash;MISSISSIPPI OUTLAWS AND DETECTIVES.</span><br />
10.&mdash;GYPSIES AND DETECTIVES.<br />
11.&mdash;BUCHOLZ AND DETECTIVES.<br />
12.&mdash;THE RAILROAD FORGER AND DETECTIVES.<br />
13.&mdash;BANK ROBBERS AND DETECTIVES.<br />
14.&mdash;BURGLAR'S FATE AND DETECTIVES.<br />
15.&mdash;A DOUBLE LIFE AND DETECTIVES.</p>
</div>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 45px;">
<img class="decoline" src="images/short-line.png" width="45" height="2" alt="" title="" />
</div>

<p class="center">These wonderful Detective Stories by Allan Pinkerton are
having an unprecedented success. Their sale far
exceeding one hundred thousand copies. "The
interest which the reader feels from the outset
is intense and resistless; he is swept along
by the narrative, held by it, whether
he will or no."</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 45px;">
<img class="decoline" src="images/short-line.png" width="45" height="2" alt="" title="" />
</div>

<p class="center">All beautifully illustrated, and published uniform with this
volume. Price $1.50 each. Sold by all booksellers, and
sent <em>free</em> by mail, on receipt of price, by</p>

<p class="center"><b>G. W. CARLETON &amp; CO., Publishers,<br />
New York.</b></p>
</div>

<div id="tp">
<h1 class="wider taller">
<span class="sm">THE</span><br />
SPIRITUALISTS<br />
<span class="wee">AND</span><br />
THE DETECTIVES.</h1>

<p class="center med2"><span class="sm">BY</span><br />
ALLAN PINKERTON,<br />
<span class="sm">AUTHOR OF<br />
"THE EXPRESSMAN AND THE DETECTIVE," "CLAUDE MELNOTTE AS<br />
A DETECTIVE," "THE SOMNAMBULIST AND THE DETECTIVE,"<br />
"THE MODEL TOWN AND THE DETECTIVES," ETC.</span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50px;">
<img id="logo" src="images/logo.png" width="50" height="35" alt="" title="" />
</div>

<p class="center sm3">NEW YORK:<br />
<span class="lg"><i>G. W. Dillingham, Publisher</i>,</span><br />
<span class="smcap">Successor to G. W. Carleton &amp; Co.</span><br />
LONDON: S. LOW, SON &amp; CO.<br />
MDCCCLXXXIX.</p>
</div>

<div id="pubinfo">
<p class="center pad-b">
<span class="smcap sm3">Copyrighted, 1876, by</span><br />
ALLAN PINKERTON</p>

<p class="center sm3">
<span class="smcap">Trow's<br />
Printing and Bookbinding Co.,</span><br />
PRINTERS AND STEREOTYPERS,<br />
205-213 <i>East</i> 12<i>th St.</i>,<br />
NEW YORK.</p>
</div>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p>

<h2 class="wider">CONTENTS.</h2>

<div class="figcenter pad-bt" style="width: 75px;">
<img class="decoline" src="images/med-line.png" width="75" height="2" alt="" title="" />
</div>

<ul class="toc">
<li>CHAPTER I.
<p>"Kal'm'zoo!"&mdash;The Home of the Nettletons.&mdash;Lilly Nettleton.&mdash;A
wild Heart and a burning <span class="tocpad">Brain.</span> <span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_13">13</a></span></p></li>

<li>CHAPTER II.
<p>The "Circuit-Rider."&mdash;Mr. Pinkerton and these Gospel Knights-Errant
in the early Days.&mdash;The Rev. Mr. Bland appears.&mdash;"And
Satan came also!"&mdash;A "charge" is established.&mdash;A Compact
"where the golden maple-leaves fall."&mdash;Bland departs.&mdash;"The
scared form of a young Woman steals away from her <span class="tocpad">Home!"</span> <span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></span></p></li>

<li>CHAPTER III.
<p>Lilly in Detroit.&mdash;First and last Remorse.&mdash;The reverend Villain and his
Victim enjoy the Hospitality of the Michigan Exchange Hotel.&mdash;A
Scene.&mdash;"Bland, am I to go to your Mother's, as you promised?"&mdash;The
Clergyman(?) "crazed."&mdash;Everything, save Respectability.&mdash;A
Woman's Will.&mdash;And a Man's <span class="tocpad">Cajolement.</span>   <span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></span></p></li>

<li>CHAPTER IV.
<p>Tells how the Rev. Mr. Bland preached a Funeral Sermon.&mdash;Shows a
dainty Cottage, holding more than the Neighbors knew.&mdash;Installs
Lilly as a Clergyman's Mistress.&mdash;Reverts to a Desolate Home.&mdash;Introduces
Dick Hosford, a returned "Forty-Niner," who begins a
despairing Search.&mdash;And shows that unholy, as well as true Love,
does not always run <span class="tocpad">smoothly.</span>   <span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></span></p></li>

<li>CHAPTER V.
<p>Reckless Fancies.&mdash;The "Cursed Church Interests."&mdash;Bland's "little
Bird" becomes a busy Bird.&mdash;Merges into a great Raven of the
Night.&mdash;Gathers together Valuables.&mdash;And while a folded Handkerchief
lies across the Clergyman's Face, steals away into the
Storm and the Night.&mdash;Gone!&mdash;"Are ye all dead in there?"&mdash;Drifting
together.&mdash;"Don't give the Gal that Ticket!"&mdash;A great-hearted
Man.&mdash;The Rev. Bland officiates at a Wedding.&mdash;Competence
and <span class="tocpad">Contentment.</span>   <span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></span></p></li>

<li>CHAPTER VI.
<p>Mr. Pinkerton is called upon.&mdash;Mr. Harcout, a ministerial-looking
Man, with an After-dinner Voice, appears.&mdash;A Case with a Woman
in it, as is usually the case.&mdash;Mr. Pinkerton hesitates.&mdash;An anxious
<span class="tocpad">Millionaire.</span>   <span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></span></p></li>

<li><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span>

CHAPTER VII.
<p>In Council.&mdash;Mr. Lyon the Millionaire, with Mr. Harcout the Adventurer
and Adviser, appear together.&mdash;How Mr. Lyon became Mrs.
Winslow's Victim.&mdash;"Our blessed Faith" and the Woman's
strange Power.&mdash;A Tender Subject.&mdash;Deep Games.&mdash;A One
Hundred Thousand Dollar Suit for Breach of Promise of Marriage.&mdash;A
good deal of Money.&mdash;All liable to err.&mdash;A most
magnificent Woman.&mdash;The "Case" <span class="tocpad">taken.</span>
<span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></span></p></li>

<li>CHAPTER VIII.
<p>The Case begun.&mdash;Mr. Pinkerton makes a preliminary Investigation at
Rochester.&mdash;Mrs. Winslow, Trance Medium.&mdash;A Ride to Port Charlotte.&mdash;Harcout
as a Barnacle.&mdash;Much married.&mdash;Mr. Pinkerton
visits the Mediums.&mdash;Drops in at a Washington Hall Meeting.&mdash;Sees
the naughty Woman.&mdash;And returns to New York convinced
that the Spiritualistic Adventuress is a Woman of remarkable
<span class="tocpad">Ability.</span>   <span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></span></p></li>

<li>CHAPTER IX.
<p>"Our Case."&mdash;Harcout's Egotism and Interference.&mdash;The strange
Chain of Evidence.&mdash;A Trail of Spiritualism, Lust, and Licentiousness.&mdash;
Superintendent Bangs locates the Detectives.&mdash;A pernicious
System.&mdash;Three Old Maids named Grim.&mdash;Mr. Bangs baffled by
Mr. Lyon, who won't be "worried."&mdash;One Honest Spiritualistic
Doctor.&mdash;The Trail secured.&mdash;A Tigress.&mdash;Mr. Bangs "goes
<span class="tocpad">West."</span>   <span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></span></p></li>

<li>CHAPTER X.
<p>Rochester.&mdash;A Profitable Field for Mrs. Winslow.&mdash;Her sumptuous
Apartments.&mdash;The Detectives at Work.&mdash;Mrs. Winslow's Cautiousness.&mdash;
Child-Training.&mdash;Mysterious Drives.&mdash;A dapper little
Blond Gentleman.&mdash;Two Birds with one Stone.&mdash;A French Divinity.&mdash;Le
<span class="tocpad">Compte.</span>   <span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></span></p></li>

<li>CHAPTER XI.
<p>The Half-way House.&mdash;A jolly German Landlord.&mdash;Detective Fox runs
down Le Compte.&mdash;A "Positive, Prophetic, Healing and Trance
Medium."&mdash;Harcout the Adviser reappears, and is anxious lest
Mr. Lyon be drawn into some terrible Confession.&mdash;Mr. Pinkerton
decides to know more about Le Compte.&mdash;And with the harassed
Mr. Lyon interviews him.&mdash;Treachery and Blackmail.&mdash;"A much
untractable Man."&mdash;Light shines upon Mrs. Winslow.&mdash;Another
Man.&mdash;Mr. Pinkerton <span class="tocpad">mad.</span>   <span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_98">98</a></span></p></li>

<li>CHAPTER XII.
<p>The Raven of the Detroit Cottage in another Character.&mdash;Mrs. Winslow
yearns for a retired Montreal Banker.&mdash;Love's Rivalry.&mdash;A mysterious
Note.&mdash;The Response.&mdash;Another Trip to Port Charlotte by
four Hearts that beat as one.&mdash;What Mr. Pinkerton, as one of the
party, sees and hears.&mdash;"Jones of Rochester."&mdash;Le Compte and
Mrs. Winslow resolve to fly to Paris, "the magnificent, the beautiful,
the sublime!"&mdash;"My God, are they all that <span class="tocpad">way?"</span>
<span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_114">114</a></span></p></li>

<li><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span>

CHAPTER XIII.
<p>Mr. Pinkerton again interviews Le Compte.&mdash;And very much desires
to wring his Neck.&mdash;A Bargain and Sale.&mdash;Le Compte's Story&mdash;"Little
by Little, Patience by Patience."&mdash;A Toronto Merchant in
Mrs. Winslow's Toils.&mdash;Detective Bristol, "the retired Banker," in
Clover.&mdash;Tabitha, Amanda, and Hannah individually and collectively
woo him.&mdash;Ancient Maidens full of Soul.&mdash;A <span class="tocpad">Signal.</span>
<span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></span></p></li>

<li>CHAPTER XIV.
<p>Mr. Bangs on the Trail in the West.&mdash;Terre Haute and its Spiritualists.&mdash;Mrs.
Deck's Boarding-house.&mdash;The Nettleton Family broken up.&mdash;Back
at the Michigan Exchange.&mdash;Mother Blake's Recital.&mdash;Through
Chicago to Wisconsin.&mdash;A disheartening Story.&mdash;The
practical result of <span class="tocpad">Spiritualism.</span>
<span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></span></p></li>

<li>CHAPTER XV.
<p>A Chicago Divorce "Shyster."&mdash;Hosford found.&mdash;His pathetic Narrative.&mdash;More
<span class="tocpad">Facts.</span>   <span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></span></p></li>

<li>CHAPTER XVI.
<p>Mrs. Winslow's Signal answered.&mdash;She endeavors to win Bristol, and
shows that they are "Affinities."&mdash;Detective Fox mystified.&mdash;An
Evening with the One fair Woman.&mdash;Closer Intimacies.&mdash;A Journey
proposed.&mdash;Detective Bristol as a <span class="tocpad">Lover.</span>
<span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></span></p></li>

<li>CHAPTER XVII.
<p>Careful Work.&mdash;Bristol's Trick on the Bell-boy at Queen's Hotel,
Toronto.&mdash;The old Merchant.&mdash;In the Toils.&mdash;A Face at the Transom.&mdash;A
cowardly Puppet before a brazen Adventuress.&mdash;The
Horrors of Blackmail.&mdash;"Furnished Rooms to <span class="tocpad">Rent."</span>
<span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_175">175</a></span></p></li>

<li>CHAPTER XVIII.
<p>Harcout again.&mdash;"Things going slow."&mdash;A Bit of personal History.&mdash;A
new Tenant.&mdash;Detective Generalship.&mdash;Mrs. Winslow fears she
is watched.&mdash;Mr. Pinkerton <span class="tocpad">cogitates.</span>
<span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></span></p></li>

<li>CHAPTER XIX.
<p>Mrs. Winslow becomes confidential.&mdash;Some of her Exploits.&mdash;Her
Plans.&mdash;A Sample of Legal Pleading.&mdash;A fishy Story.&mdash;The Adventuress
as a Somnambulist.&mdash;Detective Bristol virtuously indignant.&mdash;Failing
to win the "Retired Banker," Mrs. Winslow
assails Detective Fox with her <span class="tocpad">Charms.</span>
<span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_197">197</a></span></p></li>

<li>CHAPTER XX.
<p>A Female Spiritualist's Ideas of Political and Social Economy.&mdash;The
Weaknesses of Judges.&mdash;Legal Acumen of the Adventuress.&mdash;An
unfriendly Move.&mdash;Harcout attacked.&mdash;Lilly Nettleton and the
Rev. Mr. Bland again together.&mdash;A <span class="tocpad">Whirlwind.</span>
<span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_209">209</a></span></p></li>

<li>CHAPTER XXI.
<p>Mrs. Winslow, under the Influence of "Spirits" of an earthly Order,
becomes romantic, religious, and poetical.&mdash;A Trance.&mdash;Detective
Bristol also proves a Poet.&mdash;A Drama to be <span class="tocpad">written.</span>
<span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_220">220</a></span></p></li>

<li><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span>

CHAPTER XXII.
<p>Mr. Pinkerton decides to favor Mrs. Winslow with a Series of Annoyances.&mdash;The
mysterious Package.&mdash;The Detectives labor under
well-merited Suspicion.&mdash;"My God! what's that?"&mdash;The deadly
Phial.&mdash;This Time a Mysterious Box.&mdash;Its suggestive Contents.&mdash;"The
Thing she was."&mdash;Tabitha, Amanda, and Hannah assaulted.&mdash;A
Punch and Judy <span class="tocpad">Show.</span>  <span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_230">230</a></span></p></li>

<li>CHAPTER XXIII.
<p>Cast down.&mdash;"Trifles."&mdash;A charitable Offering.&mdash;Dreariness.&mdash;Going
Crazy.&mdash;An interrupted Seance.&mdash;A new Form of the Devil.&mdash;The
Red-herring Expedition and its Result.&mdash;A mad Dutchman.&mdash;Desolation.&mdash;An
order for a Coffin.&mdash;The sympathizing Undertaker, Mr.
<span class="tocpad">Boxem.</span>  <span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_244">244</a></span></p></li>

<li>CHAPTER XXIV.
<p>Breaking up.&mdash;Doubts and Queries.&mdash;Suspected Developments.&mdash;The
Detectives completely outwitted.&mdash;On the Trail again.&mdash;From
Rochester to St. Louis.&mdash;A prophetic Hotel Clerk.&mdash;More Detectives
and more Need for them.&mdash;Lightning <span class="tocpad">Changes.</span>
<span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_269">269</a></span></p></li>

<li>CHAPTER XXV.
<p>Still foiled.&mdash;Mr. Pinkerton perplexed over the Character of the Adventuress.&mdash;Her
wonderful recuperative Powers.&mdash;A lively Chase.&mdash;Another
unexpected Move.&mdash;The Detectives beaten at every
Point.&mdash;From Town to Town.&mdash;Mrs. Winslow's Shrewdness.&mdash;Among
the Spiritualists at Terre Haute.&mdash;Plotting.&mdash;The beautiful
Belle Ruggles.&mdash;A wild Night in a ramshackle old Boarding-House.&mdash;Blood-curdling
"Manifestations."&mdash;Moaning and weeping
for Day.&mdash;Outwitted again.&mdash;Mr. Pinkerton makes a chance
<span class="tocpad">Discovery.&mdash;Success.</span>  <span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_285">285</a></span></p></li>

<li>CHAPTER XXVI.
<p>Shows how Mrs. Winslow makes a new Move.&mdash;Also introduces the
famous Evalena Gray, Physical Spiritual Medium, at her sumptuous
Apartments on West Twenty-first Street, New York.&mdash;Reminds
the Reader of the Aristocratic Classes deluded by Spiritualism.&mdash;Describes
a Seance and explains the "Rope-trick," and
other Spiritualistic Sleight-of-hand <span class="tocpad">Performances.</span>
<span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_307">307</a></span></p></li>

<li>CHAPTER XXVII.
<p>After the Seance.&mdash;Daddy, the "Accommodation Husband."&mdash;The
two fascinating Swindlers in Council.&mdash;Miss Evalena's European
Career.&mdash;How the Millionaire Brewer was baited and played with.&mdash;A
Bit of Criminal History.&mdash;A choice Pair.&mdash;Mrs. Winslow's Aspirations
and <span class="tocpad">Resolves.</span>
<span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_326">326</a></span></p></li>

<li>CHAPTER XXVIII.
<p>Mrs. Winslow demonstrates her Legal Ability.&mdash;The "Breach of
Promise Trial."&mdash;A grand Rally of the Spiritualistic Friends of the
Adventuress.&mdash;The Jury disagree.&mdash;Mrs. Winslow convicted at
St. Louis of Common Barratry.&mdash;An honest Judge's Rebuke.&mdash;A
new Trial.&mdash;The Spiritualistic Swindler overthrown.&mdash;Remorse and
<span class="tocpad">Wretchedness.</span>
<span class="tocnum"><a href="#Page_341">341</a></span></p></li>
</ul>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span></p>

<h2 class="wider">PREFACE.</h2>

<div class="figcenter pad-bt" style="width: 75px;">
<img class="decoline" src="images/med-line.png" width="75" height="2" alt="" title="" />
</div>

<p><span class="dropcap">I</span> WISH to anticipate any adverse criticism that may
be made upon the following pages, by being as frank
with the public as I trust the critics will be fair with me.</p>

<p>Therefore I must say at the beginning that I expect
many well-meaning people to differ with me as to the propriety
of giving this book to the public; but I am exceedingly
hopeful that that difference will not amount to a
serious condemnation. Nor can I think it will when I
earnestly assert that I have caused its publication out of
as honest a motive as I ever possessed; and I am sure
that whatever the American people have come to think
of me in other respects, they are pretty certain of my
honesty.</p>

<p>The incidents related are true, though, out of a proper
regard for my patrons and many who do not sustain that
relation, but who unavoidably become identified in numberless
ways with my operations in ferreting out crime
and criminals, I have deemed it best to locate the story
in a city several hundred miles from the place where the
occurrences really transpired, and, for the same reason,
have given the characters fictitious names; but the incidents
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span>are exact parallels of the original facts, and in many
cases are literal transcripts of, while in every instance
they agree with, the records of the case as minutely
reported during its progress.</p>

<p>By way of further explanation, I desire to remind my
readers how very difficult it is for those not familiar with
the detective business to realize the masses of iniquity we
are often obliged to unearth, unpalatable as the work may
be and is. But while, from the nature of my business,
my records are necessarily so exhaustive, and have been
made so thoroughly minute, as to contain simply everything,
good or bad, regarding an operation, and are,
therefore, as records, reliable and true&mdash;though they thus
become repositories of much that is vile&mdash;I have striven
in every instance, while relating the truth and nothing but
the truth, to speak of unpleasant things in as delicate a
manner as possible, and in a way which, while plain
enough to convey with proper force and directness the
moral lessons that these developments cannot fail to impress
upon the minds of all readers, might still leave no
unclean thought behind them; and the only sense in
which a charge that my "Detective Stories" were in any
respect untrue might be sustained, would be in the fact
that I have in numberless instances, for the very good
reason mentioned, told immeasurably less, and never
more, than the whole truth.</p>

<p>I make no assumption of having given in this book an
exhaustive <i>exposé</i> of modern spiritualism, and I wish it
as well remembered that I have no more prejudice against<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span>
the good there is in that ism than I have against the good
there is in any other ism; but my experience with these
people, which has been large, has invariably been against
their honesty or social purity.</p>

<p>So far as there being anything about Spiritualism to
compel awe or attract any but weak-minded or "weak-moraled"
people, the assumption is simply absurd; for
the few illustrations given in the following pages will show
how utterly preposterous the claim of supernatural power
is, as applied to the <em>cause</em> of these "manifestations,"
which are not, in themselves, first-class tricks, but which,
when made mysterious and enshrouded with the element
of superstitious fear&mdash;which all of us in some measure
possess&mdash;lead crowds of inconsiderate people into unusual
eccentricities, if not eventually into insane asylums,
as in some painful instances of which the public are
already well aware.</p>

<p>In my exceptionally strange avocation I have been
enabled to view this entire matter from the side which the
public cannot reach&mdash;the side where the fraud of it all is
so apparent that it becomes disgustingly monotonous and
common; and as a matter of duty to those who are half
inclined to accept Spiritualism as a divine revelation and
blessed experience, I have given but a single case&mdash;a
sample of hundreds of others&mdash;which illustrates the despicable
character of many, if not a majority, of Spiritualism's
public champions and private disciples; only adding
that in this instance the picture does not show a thousandth
part of the hideousness of the original.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[xii]</a></span></p><p>The Judge Williams mentioned as having presided at
Batavia, N. Y., is no myth, but an eminent jurist at present
sitting upon the bench of one of the most important
courts in the country. He has not only furnished a copy
of his scathing remarks to the Winslow-Lyon jury upon
their disagreement, as related, but will vouch for the correctness
of much of this narrative, as most of the facts
mentioned came under his personal observation.</p>

<p>I have given them to the public trusting they will fill
some good place in the world, and assist in removing
from the minds of those who are occupying the debatable
ground regarding the question of the genuineness of
Spiritualism and Spiritualistic "manifestations" the superstitious
fear and the sensuous fascination which have heretofore
bound and held them.</p>

<p class="ralign">ALLAN PINKERTON.</p>

<p><b><span class="smcap">Chicago</span>, January, 1877.</b></p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p>

<p class="taller center lg pad-t">THE SPIRITUALISTS<br />
<span class="sm">AND</span><br />
<span class="lg">THE DETECTIVES.</span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 134px;">
<img class="decoline" src="images/line-3-diamonds.png" width="134" height="11" alt="" title="" />
</div>

<h2 id="chapI">CHAPTER I.</h2>

<div class="chapdesc">
<p>"Kal'm'zoo!"&mdash;The Home of the Nettletons.&mdash;Lilly Nettleton.&mdash;A
wild Heart and a burning Brain.</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">M</span>OST commercial and uncommercial travellers filling
the swift shuttles of transit between the East and
the West will remember that while passing through
Michigan, over the Central road, the brakeman has
shrieked the legend "Kal'm'zoo!" at them as the train
rushed into one of the prettiest little cities in the country.
There is nothing particularly picturesque about Kalamazoo,
unless the wondering face of some harmless lunatic, on
parole from the Asylum which stands so gloomily among
the hills beyond the town, the solemn visage of some
Baptist University student, who with his toast, tea and
Thucydides, has become grave and attenuated, or the
plump form of some "seminary girl" who <em>will</em> look at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>
the incoming trains, and flout her handkerchief too, in
spite of parents, principals, and all the proprieties, and the
ordinary ebb and flow of the life of a stirring provincial
town, may be so considered. Neither is there anything
particularly interesting about Kalamazoo, save its native,
quiet beauty. It meets life easily, and, like a happily-disposed
tradesman, takes its full measure of traffic and
enjoyment with undisturbed tranquillity, cultivating neat
yards and streets, the social graces, and occasionally the
arts, with a lazy sort of satisfaction that is pleasant to look
upon and contemplate.</p>

<p>Standing at any street-corner of the city, you will see
wide avenues of fine business houses or elegant residences,
and, where the latter, a wealth of neatly-trimmed shrubbery,
and long lines of overarching maple trees merging
into pretty vistas which seem to invite you beyond to the
beautiful hills, uplands and valleys, with their murmuring
streams, sloping farms and well-kept homes, where both
plenty and contentment seem to be waiting to give you a
right hearty welcome.</p>

<p>About twenty-five years ago, when the country was
much newer, and the sturdy farmers that have made this
great West blossom so magically until it has become
the whole world's storehouse, were held closely to their
arduous work by the hard hand of necessity and toil, a
few miles up the river from the then little village of Kalamazoo
might have been seen a comfortable log farm-house
which nestled within a pretty ravine sloping down to the
banks of the lazily-flowing stream. It was a plain, homely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>
sort of a place, but there was an air of thrift and cleanliness
about the locality that told of earnest toil and its
sure reward.</p>

<p>The farm was of that character generally described as
"openings;" here a clump of oak, beech, and maple
trees, there a rich stretch of meadow-land; beyond, a
series of hills extending to the uplands, the bases of which
were girted with groves, and whose summits were composed
of a warm, rich, stony loam, where the golden seas
of ripening grain, touched by passing zephyrs, waved and
shimmered in the glowing summer sun; while where the
river wound along towards the villages below, there was
a dense growth of elm, maple, and beech trees, standing
there dark and sombre, save where the glintings of sunlight
pierced their foliaged armor, like grim sentinels of
the centuries.</p>

<p>This was the home of Robert Nettleton, a plain and
uneducated farmer, who had several years before removed
from the East with his family, and with them was slowly
accumulating a competence for his declining days.</p>

<p>Robert Nettleton's family consisted of himself, his wife,
and their three children. He was looked upon by his
neighbors as somewhat erratic and strange, being repelling
in his manner, and at times sullen and reticent. He
went about his duties in a severe way, and at all times
compelled the strictest obedience from each member of
his family. On the contrary, his wife was a meek-eyed
little woman, patient and long-suffering, and was looked
upon in the neighborhood as a nonentity from her unresisting,
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>broken-down demeanor, save in times of sickness
and trouble, when she was immediately in great demand,
as she had little to say, but much to do, and had an effective
method of noiseless, tender watching and nursing at
command, which was at all times ungrudgingly employed.</p>

<p>The children consisted of one boy and two girls, the
eldest of whom, now in her eighteenth year, little dreamed
of the despicable commotion she was to create in after-life,
and was the reigning belle of the community, though
she always kept the country bumpkins at a respectful distance
and was feared by fully as many as she was admired,
from her impetuous, imperious ways, that brooked no
opposition or hinderance. One would have to travel a
long distance to find a more attractive figure and face
than those possessed by this country girl. She was somewhat
above the medium height, a living model for a
Venus, supple and lithe as the willows that grew upon the
banks of the winding stream, and so physically powerful
that she had already gained some notoriety among her
acquaintances through having soundly shaken the pedagogue
of the district school, and afterwards pitched him
through the window into an adjacent snow-drift, where he
had remained buried to his middle, his legs wildly waving
signals of distress, until she had just as impulsively released
him.</p>

<p>Although somewhat strange and unusual, her features,
while not strikingly beautiful, were still singularly attractive.
Her head, which was large and seemingly well provided
with faculties of quick perception, was covered with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>
a wondrous wealth of black hair, so heavy and luxurious
as to be almost unmanageable, and which, when not in
restraint, fell about her form, hiding it completely, nearly
to her feet. Her forehead was full and prominent, while
her eyes, large and rather deeply set, and fringed with
heavy lashes, were of that peculiar gray color which at
times may be touched by all shades, while a trace of blue
always predominates. There was nothing worth remarking
about other portions of her face, save that, critically
examined, too much of it seemed to have got into her
chin, and her upper lip had a strange habit of hugging
her brilliantly white teeth too closely, and then curling
upward before meeting the lower one, where sometimes
crimson and ashy paleness played like quick and cruel
lightning, a key to the slumbering devils within her. At
these times, too, there was a certain light in her eyes
that an observing person would feel a peculiar dread of
awakening, though usually her face showed a complete
repose, and it would have been difficult to decide whether
she was a very ordinary or a very extraordinary character.</p>

<p>Still, with her magnificent figure and strangely attractive
face, she was a young woman to strongly draw just two
classes of men towards her&mdash;students of character and
students of form. The first she invariably disappointed
and repelled, always awakening the indefinable dread I
have mentioned, while her presence among the latter
class as swiftly opened the floodgates of passion to swiftly
sweep the better nature and all good resolves before it.
So, with her peculiarly unfortunate construction, it is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>
not strange that, on arriving at that period of life when
the almost omnipotent power of a self-willed woman begins
to develop and hint at the possibilities beyond the
threshold of the strange life her inexperienced feet had
just reached, Lilly Nettleton should have felt an oppressive
sense of littleness in the quiet community in which
she lived, and experienced a burning desire to cast these
humble associations from her, to compel admiration and
conquer whoever and whatever she might meet in the
wide, wide world beyond.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2>

<div class="chapdesc">
<p>The "Circuit-Rider."&mdash;Mr. Pinkerton and these Gospel Knights-Errant
in the early Days.&mdash;The Rev. Mr. Bland appears.&mdash;"And
Satan came also!"&mdash;A "charge" is established.&mdash;A Compact
"where the golden maple-leaves fall."&mdash;Bland departs.&mdash;"The
scared form of a young Woman steals away from her Home!"</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">D</span>URING the summer the presiding elder of the Kalamazoo
district decided to bid for the benighted
souls that dwelt in Mr. Nettleton's neighborhood, and
made arrangements to "supply" the school-house at the
corners where Lilly had distinguished herself in giving the
schoolmaster a cold bath in the snow-bank, with circuit-riders,
or with young clergymen who had just graduated
and were supposed to be in training for more extended
fields of labor.</p>

<p>At that time the system of salvation as carried on by
the Methodist Church&mdash;which must certainly be credited
with a vast amount of push and energy in furthering its
peculiar plan of redemption&mdash;outside of the large cities
was almost exclusively one which necessitated the employment
of circuit-riders, as they were then called, and are
now called in some portions of the extreme west. They
were usually men of great suavity of manner, personal
bravery, unbounded zeal, and remarkable religious enthusiasm.
They trusted principally in the Lord, but also<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>
placed implicit confidence in the extraordinary hospitality
of the plain pioneer people with whom they came in contact,
who, if not prepared to accept everything told them,
responded to their strenuous efforts for their salvation by
an unqualified welcome; so that the appearance of the
circuit-rider, or "supply," was not only cause for unusual
Bible catechism and hymn reading, but also a signal for
culinary preparations on a grand scale, to which, as a rule,
the hen-roost materially contributed.</p>

<p>Time and time again, in the early days, have I journeyed
with these Gospel Knights-errant, listening to their
interesting adventures, almost as strange as my own, and
their simple tales of blessed experiences; often tarrying
with them at their "stations," and for some good purpose,
best known to myself, joining in their efforts to sow seed
meet unto repentance as we crossed the beautiful streams
and broad prairies of Illinois; and as we journeyed along
so pleasantly together the thought that my comrade was
giving his whole life to the work of saving sin-sick souls,
while mine was as irrevocably devoted to bringing many
of them to summary justice, has flashed across my mind
with such startling force, that the dramatic nature of the
life we live was presented to me more powerfully than I
have since seen it shown before the footlights of any of
the grandest theatres of the world.</p>

<p>As the Nettleton family had belonged to that church in
the East, and had also attended service at the village
when the roads and weather were favorable, they were,
of course, leaders in the plan to secure "meetings"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>
nearer home; and when the good brother made his appearance
one pleasant autumn Saturday afternoon, as
was natural, he directed his faithful Rozinante to the
comfortable log-house by the river, where both it and its
reverend rider were given a genuine welcome.</p>

<p>The new preacher was none of your soiled, worked-out,
toiling itinerants. He was a young clergyman,
scarcely thirty years old, and just from college; tall, well-formed,
with a florid, smoothly-shaven face, and plenty of
hair and hallelujah about him. He could tell you all
about the stars, and just as easily point out the merits
or demerits in your plate of mutton or porter-house; and,
being of this tropical nature, if there were two things
above any other two things in life for which he had a
penchant, they were a spirited nag and a spirited woman.
In fact, he had accepted the ministry just the same as he
would have accepted any other profession, merely as a
makeshift, and had submitted to being ground through
the theological mill, and afterwards to this backwoods
breaking-in process, simply because his widowed mother,
a Detroit lady, was immensely pious and also immensely
wealthy; and if he should become a noted minister, he
would get all her property, which otherwise would go to
the good cause direct, but which, once in his hands,
would enable him to gratify his elegant tastes and do as
he pleased generally.</p>

<p>So, being a thorough judge of women, he was at once
more interested in Lilly Nettleton than in the welfare
of the souls of the Nettleton neighborhood; and after a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>
bountiful supper had been disposed of, and the family
were gathered upon the verandah for a pleasant chat with
the minister in the long, hazy September sunset, and the
Rev. Mr. Bland&mdash;for that was the young clergyman's
name&mdash;had flattered Mr. Nettleton on the merits of his
pretty farm, Mrs. Nettleton upon her elegant cooking,
and the younger children upon their various degrees of
perfection, he passed directly to the subject which most
occupied his mind, and in a patronizing way, evidently
with a view of attracting Lilly's attention without arousing
the suspicions of her honest parents, said:</p>

<p>"By the way, Mr. Nettleton, your beautiful daughter
here&mdash;ah, what may I call her? thank you, Lilly; and a
very appropriate name, too&mdash;is the perfect image of a
very dear friend of ours&mdash;my mother's and my own&mdash;in
Detroit."</p>

<p>There was certainly a flush on Lilly's face deeper than
could have been put there by the red glow of the setting
sun. Mr. Bland did not fail to notice it either; and as
there was no response to his remark, he continued, occasionally
glancing at Lilly, who, though apparently only
interested in her needle-work, drank in every word that
fell from the reverend gentleman's lips.</p>

<p>"In fact," said the minister, "the resemblance is quite
striking, though I really think your daughter Lilly is the
finer-looking of the two&mdash;indeed, has quite an intellectual
face, and would, I am sure, make a thorough student."</p>

<p>"But she won't go to school here," interrupted Mr.
Nettleton; while the strange light came into Lilly's eyes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>
and the crimson and ashy paleness played upon the
curled lips.</p>

<p>"But, Brother Nettleton, you must remember that we
are not all similarly created. The world must have its
hewers of wood and drawers of water, but it must also
have its grand minds to direct&mdash;&mdash;"</p>

<p>"I can do all the directin' necessary here," bluntly
persisted Mr. Nettleton.</p>

<p>"Of course, of course," pleasantly continued Mr.
Bland, talking <em>at</em> Lilly, though answering her father;
"but I hope Lilly can some time have those advantages
which would certainly cause her to shine in society&mdash;&mdash;"</p>

<p>"And despise her home!" said Mr. Nettleton, bitterly.</p>

<p>The storm was still playing fiercely over Lilly's face,
and her heaving bosom told how hard a struggle was
necessary to restrain her from then and there saying or
doing some reckless thing, and then rushing away into
the woods and the night to escape the restraint that set
so heavily upon her imperious spirit.</p>

<p>"No, I think not," replied Mr. Bland soothingly. "I
am a pretty good judge of human nature, though a young
man, and am sure that Lilly has a kind heart and will
prove a blessing to your later years. Our dear Detroit
friend was also a little spirited, but she is now one of the
leaders of Sunday-school and church society, and is much
sought after&mdash;yes, much sought after," repeated Mr.
Bland slowly, as he saw its effect upon Lilly.</p>

<p>The clergyman's good opinion of their daughter made
the simple parents really happy; but she knew as well<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>
as he what it was all said for, and she already hated the
flippant Mr. Bland, for her quick woman's instinct&mdash;they
never reason&mdash;had analyzed him thoroughly. But her
heart throbbed at the idea of being considered "fine-looking,"
and her brain burned with the desire to also become
"sought after." Yes, young and inexperienced as she was,
she was old in the crime of impure thought and unbridled
ambition, and was ready to lend herself to any scheme,
however questionable, that might offer release, or give promise
of the gratification of her passion for notoriety, and
ruling or ruining anything with which she came in contact.</p>

<p>After this the evening passed pleasantly to the old
people, who, after a time, went into the house to attend
to their several duties; and also to the young people, Mr.
Bland and Lilly, who, without any effort on the part of
either, had arrived at a thorough understanding&mdash;so much
so, indeed, that when the voice of Mr. Nettleton was heard
apprising Mr. Bland that he would show him to his room
whenever he desired to retire, he quietly stepped near to
where Lilly was sitting in the weird moonlight, and taking
her pretty, warm hand within his own, said rapidly, but
in a low voice:</p>

<p>"My dear Lilly, I have a deep interest in you; your
people cannot understand it, and, should they know it,
would only suspect me, and watch and restrain you.
<em>Make</em> an opportunity for us to be together alone. I will
remain until you accomplish it; and&mdash;" Mr. Nettleton's
step was now heard in the hall&mdash;"quick, Lilly! do we
understand each other?"</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p><p>She gave him a look that would have withered any but
a lecherous villain as he was; but he met it in kind, as
she whispered "Yes!" and added, disengaging herself as
Bland stealthily stepped back and carelessly leaned against
the door:</p>

<p>"What book did you say?"</p>

<p>"Ah, yes&mdash;'hem! 'Young's Night Thoughts.' It is a
pure book, and would not only cultivate your mind, but
aid you in the common duties of life. I will send it to
you, and you can read it aloud to your parents. I know
they will enjoy it too! Ha! Mr. Nettleton, excuse me
Lilly, of course you will join us at prayers?"</p>

<p>She had been taught her first lesson, was an apt scholar,
too; and as the man of God on his bended knees prayed
that all blessings might descend upon this happy home,
however much his cursed soul might have been stung by
the devilish hypocrisy of the hour, there was not a pang
of remorse in her heart for the bold step she knew she
had taken.</p>

<p>Lilly did not attend service at the school-house on Sabbath,
and made her appearance but once or twice during
the day, feigning illness; but on Monday she was about
the house fresh and rosy as ever, and the first opportunity
that offered suggested to Bland the propriety of asking her
out for a boat-ride on the river, which he did in the afternoon
during Mr. Nettleton's absence, his meek wife
thinking it a great honor to the family, and in her
poor mother's heart, no doubt, praying that the good
man might so soften her proud daughter's heart that she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>
might be bettered, and eventually led to the source of all
good.</p>

<p>Whether he did or not, if the reader of this book could
have followed the couple up the winding river to a secluded
spot where the golden maple-leaves fell upon the
stream and were borne away in silence, whatever of mad
passion or reckless guilt might have been discovered,
just before they stepped into the boat to float with the
tide back to the dishonored home, a certain Rev. Mr.
Bland might have been seen placing in Lilly Nettleton's
shameless hand a roll of bills, and heard to say to the
same person:</p>

<p>"Be sure, now&mdash;next Sunday night. Row down to Kalamazoo
in this boat, and take the late night train for
Detroit. Go to the Michigan Exchange Hotel, where I
will meet you Monday evening!"</p>

<p>So the little neighborhood had had its "religious supply,"
but had also had its loss; for, as the weird moonlight
of the next Sunday evening fell upon the quiet log farm-house,
built strange forms among the moaning, almost
leafless trees, and pictured upon the river's bosom a
thousand ghostly figures, the scared form of a young
woman stole away from her home, glided to the murmuring
stream, sprang into the little boat, and was borne
away to the hell of her future just as noiselessly but just
as resistlessly as the river itself pushed onward to the
great lakes, and was swept from thence to the ultimate,
all-absorbing sea!</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2>

<div class="chapdesc"><p>Lilly in Detroit.&mdash;First and last Remorse.&mdash;The reverend Villain and his
Victim enjoy the Hospitality of the Michigan Exchange Hotel.&mdash;A
Scene.&mdash;"Bland, am I to go to your Mother's, as you promised?"&mdash;The
Clergyman(?) "crazed."&mdash;Everything, save Respectability.&mdash;A
Woman's Will&mdash;And a Man's Cajolement.</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>O the imagination of the wayward country girl Detroit
was a great city, and as she was whirled into
the depot, where she saw the rushing river beyond, and
was hustled hither and thither by the clamorous cabmen,
a sense of giddiness came upon her, and for the first, and
undoubtedly last time, she yearned for the quiet of the old
log farm-house by the pleasant river.</p>

<p>Perhaps the old forms and faces called to her imploringly,
pleading with her, as only the simple things of
home, however plain and commonplace, can plead with
the wandering one; and in a swift, agonized longing for
the restfulness which the meanest virtue gives, but which
had forever fled from her, the thought, if not the words:</p>

<div class="poem">
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i00">"Of all sad words of tongue or pen<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The saddest are these: It might have been"&mdash;</span>
</div></div>

<p>sped through her mind in a pitiful way; but just as she
had almost resolved to return to her parents, ask their forgiveness,
and disclose the character of the reverend villain,
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>a man approached her, who, saying he was "from
Bland," conducted her to a carriage in waiting and conveyed
her to the Michigan Exchange Hotel, where she
was fictitiously registered, and the clerk informed that her
brother would call for her in the evening.</p>

<p>She had been assigned a very pretty room, elegantly
furnished, and the windows gave her a view of the river
and the shipping, with Windsor and the bluff hills of Canada
beyond. It was all beautiful and wonderful to her&mdash;the
hotel a palace, the river, with its great steamers, vessels,
and ferries&mdash;a fairy scene; and Windsor, with the
broken country beyond, all covered by the soft, blue, gossamer
veil of early autumn&mdash;a beautiful dream!</p>

<p>With her thoroughly unprincipled nature there was a
lazy sort of enjoyment in all this; and when her dinner
was brought to her room, as had been previously ordered
by the hackman, and she was gingerly served by an ordinarily
nimble waiter, but who took every possible occasion
to illustrate the fact that he was cultivated and she
was not, she received the attention in as dignified a manner
as though born to rule, and had been accustomed to
the service of menials from infancy.</p>

<p>The afternoon wore away, and as the gas-lights began
to flare out upon the city, a gentle tap was heard at her
door, and a moment after, before an invitation to enter
had been given, the oily Bland slid into Lilly's apartment,
closed the door after him, and turned the key in the lock.
Then he walked right over to where Lilly was sitting upon
the sofa, and took her in his arms, saying:</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>
"Well, I see my dearest Lilly has kept her word."</p>

<p>She allowed him to fondle her just long enough to dare
to repel him gently, and answered:</p>

<p>"After what passed by the river, I could not do otherwise
than keep my word. Yes, your 'dearest Lilly' has
kept her word. And what now, Mr. Bland?"</p>

<p>Seeing that she was disposed to ask leading questions,
he changed the subject laughingly.</p>

<p>"Why, some supper, of course," and immediately
rang the bell, ordering of the servant, who appeared
directly, a sumptuous spread, not forgetting a bottle of
wine.</p>

<p>During the preparation of the meal Lilly stepped to the
window, and pressing her restless face against the panes,
seemed intently regarding the dancing lights upon the
broad river, while Bland whistled softly, and warmed his
delicate, pliable hands at the coals in the fireplace, which
gave to the chilly evening a pleasant, cheery glow. Suddenly
she stepped close to him, leaned her head in her
left hand, her elbow resting upon the marble mantel,
while with her right hand she firmly grasped his shoulder.
She then said, in a quiet, determined way:</p>

<p>"Bland, am I to go to your mother's, as you promised?"</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<a href="images/28-29-lg.jpg" class="noline">
<img src="images/28-29-sm.jpg" width="400" height="255" alt="" title="" />
<span class="caption"><br /><i>"Bland, am I to go to your mother's as you promised?"&mdash;</i></span></a>
</div>

<p>She said this in such a resolute, icy way, and her hand
rested upon his shoulder so heavily, that, for the first time,
he looked at her as if satisfied that he had a beautiful
tigress in keeping, and it might possibly require supreme
will force to control her.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p><p>"No, Lilly, you will not go to my mother's."</p>

<p>"Then I will go home."</p>

<p>"You will not go home. You will remain here."</p>

<p>"Bland, no person on God's earth shall say 'will' to
me. That is just as certain as the course of that river!"
and her long, trembling forefinger swept towards the rushing
stream.</p>

<p>The appearance of the waiter with supper quieted the
conversation, which was becoming stormy, and it was only
resumed when Bland saw that Lilly was mellowing under
the influence of the wine, which thrilled through her
veins, pushing the rich, healthy blood to her cheeks, and
lighting her great gray eyes with a wonderful lustre. It
could not be said that he loved the girl, but he had a mad
passion for her which was simply overwhelming at these
times when, untutored and uncultivated as she was, she
became truly queenly in appearance.</p>

<p>It was a dainty little supper served upon a dainty little
table, and they were sitting very closely together, and
Bland, after feasting his eyes upon her magnificent form
for a time, drew her into his arms impulsively, kissing her
again and again, calling her endearing names, and promising
her everything that could come to the tongue of a
talented man made wild by wine and a woman.</p>

<p>"Lilly, you have crazed me&mdash;ruined me!" he said, excitedly.
"You know what I profess to be&mdash;a Christian
minister! God forgive me for my cursed weakness, but
you have me in your power!"</p>

<p>Although her face rested against his, and their hot<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>
cheeks burned together, the old wicked light gleamed in
her eyes, and the crimson and ashy paleness played upon
the curled lip. If it all could have been seen by the reverend
gentleman, it would have sobered him. The words
"in your power" had flung the lightning into Lilly Nettleton's
face. Power, power, power! No matter how secured;
no matter what the result. The very word maddened
her, made a scheming devil of her, but also made
her ready for any proposition Bland might offer, as it
swiftly came into her mind that the deeper she sank with
him the greater would be her power over him.</p>

<p>"Well?" she said, reassuringly.</p>

<p>"'Well?'&mdash;I am at your mercy. A knowledge of what
has passed between us would be my ruin; your ruin also.
We have done what cannot be undone; yes," he continued
passionately, and drawing her closer to him, "what I
would not undo!"</p>

<p>"Well?" It was tenderly said, and gave him courage.</p>

<p>"I am rich, or will be, Lilly."</p>

<p>"If you are careful," she added with a light laugh.</p>

<p>"Exactly. I can do a great deal for you, and
will&mdash;&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Conditionally?"</p>

<p>"Yes, conditionally. The conditions are that you live
quietly at an elegant place to which we will shortly be
driven. You will be mistress of the place; that is, you
will have everything you can desire&mdash;&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Save respectability, Mr. Bland?"</p>

<p>She was shrewder than he&mdash;in fact, his master already;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>
but hinted at the sale of her soul so heartlessly that it
shocked even him.</p>

<p>"You had 'respectability' at home, Lilly; and," glancing
at her plain garments, which were a burlesque upon
her beautiful figure, "and old clothes, and surveillance,
and restraint, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Bland," she said, springing to her feet with such violence
as to send him sprawling to the floor, from which he
stared in amazement at her magnificent form, which trembled
like a leaf, while the wicked lightning gleamed from
her eyes, and swift shuttles of color flashed back and
forth upon her lips; "Bland, be careful! Never speak
to me again of the meanness of my home. The meanness
of your black heart is a million times greater. You
have something more than a country girl to deal with,
sir; you have a woman and a woman's will. It is enough
that I have sold my body and soul for what you can, or
might, give me. I bargained for no contempt; and,
Bland," she continued, advancing towards him fiercely as
he regained his feet and retreated from her in dismay,
"as sure as there is a heaven, and as sure as there ought
to be a hell for such as we, if you begin it, I will kill you!
Yes," she hissed, "I will kill you!" and then, woman-like,
having passed the climax of feeling and expression,
she threw herself on the bed for a good cry, while Bland,
with wine and words and countless caresses, soothed her
wild spirit, bringing her back to pliant good nature, where
she was as putty in his dexterous hands.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2>

<div class="chapdesc"><p>Tells how the Rev. Mr. Bland preached a Funeral Sermon.&mdash;Shows a
dainty Cottage, holding more than the Neighbors knew.&mdash;Installs
Lilly as a Clergyman's Mistress.&mdash;Reverts to a Desolate Home.&mdash;Introduces
Dick Hosford, a returned "Forty-Niner," who begins a
despairing Search.&mdash;And shows that unholy, as well as true Love,
does not always run smoothly.</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">S</span>HORTLY afterwards a closed cabriolet containing
two persons was rapidly driven from the Michigan
Exchange up Wisconsin street, from thence into Griswold,
and out towards the suburbs, finally drawing up before
a neat cottage-house, where the lights, peeping around
the edges of the drawn curtains, showed the place to be
in a state of preparation.</p>

<p>A man and a woman quickly alighted from the carriage,
and as the woman, apparently a young one, though
closely veiled, stepped to the gate, opened it and waited
for her escort, the gentleman said in a low tone to the
coachman:</p>

<p>"James, drive to the house and inform mother that
while down town this evening I received an unexpected
call to Ann Arbor, to preach a funeral sermon over the
remains of an old student-friend at the University, and
that I may not be home until late to-morrow evening;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>
then, after handing James some coin, "you understand,
James?"</p>

<p>James thought he understood, grinned grimly, put the
money in his pocket and drove away.</p>

<p>"Remember, Lilly," said Bland, stepping to the gate
and taking her arm, "you are Lilly Mercer here."</p>

<p>"Yes, Bland."</p>

<p>"And you are never to mention anything regarding
yourself to the lady who owns this place."</p>

<p>"I think I can keep my own counsel."</p>

<p>"And, if any inquiries are made here, by any person
whatever, regarding myself, you are to be innocently and
utterly ignorant."</p>

<p>"And what are you to do?" asked Lilly, naïvely.</p>

<p>"I?&mdash;why I am to do well by you."</p>

<p>"Just so long as you do that, Bland, you are perfectly
safe!"</p>

<p>She had taken to dictating also; but it was a pretty
little cottage and grounds, and a feeling of satisfaction at
being their mistress, even if it necessitated being his mistress,
came over her that made her affable and winning,
if she did occasionally say things that hinted at a stormy
future.</p>

<p>They strolled up the broad brick walk, he thrilled with
his magnificent capture, and she just as satisfied with the
power she had attained over one so high socially, and
who stood in such near prospect of obtaining vast wealth.
Instead of entering the house at its little front door with
its highly ornamented porch, they opened the door of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>
little trellis-worked addition to the cottage, which was
now covered by an almost leafless mass of vines, and
passed to a side entrance, where a gentle pull of the bell
caused the immediate appearance of a very fat and very
flabby woman of middle age, who at once conducted them
to a suite of rooms, consisting of a parlor and a large
sleeping-room, between which, in place of the original
folding-doors, had been substituted rich hangings sufficiently
drawn apart to admit of the passage of one person,
and which, with the tastefully draped windows, the
deeply-framed pictures, the vari-colored marble mantels
and fireplaces, the heavy, yielding carpet giving back no
sound to the foot-fall, and the great easy-chairs into which
one sank as into pillows of down, gave the rooms the
hintings of such luxuriousness that Lilly was completely
dazzled and bewildered with the unexpected elegance,
and the, to her, never before realized splendor.</p>

<p>"Mother Blake," said Bland, "this is Lilly Mercer, who
is my friend, and whom you are to make comfortable."</p>

<p>Mother Blake, as if realizing that her duties began
whenever Bland spoke, majestically crossed the room,
sat down beside Lilly and immediately kissed her very
affectionately, merely remarking, "And a very nice girl
she is, too, Mr. Bland."</p>

<p>"That'll do, mother. You may get us a small bottle
of wine, and then go to bed. It's getting late, and you
know you need a good deal of sleep."</p>

<p>Mother Blake chuckled, and shook from it as though
her enjoyment of any sort of pleasantry came to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>
surface only in a series of ripples over her great fat body,
instead of in echoes of enjoyment from her great fat
throat. But it might have been merely a habit with its
origin in the necessities of her quiet mode of life; and,
doing as requested, only lingered to fasten back the
curtain so that the low, luxurious bed came temptingly
into view, after which she beamingly backed out of the
room, wishing the couple "a pleasant night, and many of
'em!"</p>

<p>If shame hovered over this pretty place, it did not pale
the amber glow of the sparkling wine; it came not into
the ruddy coals upon the hearth, which gave forth their
glowing warmth just as cheerily as from any other hearth
in the broad land; it never dimmed the light from the
gilded chandeliers; it put no crimson flush upon the
faces which touched each other with an even flow of
blood, nor quickened the pulses of the hands that as often
met; and God only knows whether, when, as sleep came
down upon the city, and the man and woman rested in
each other's arms upon the bed beyond the rich curtains
(which, as the light in the fireplaces grew or waned, never
contained one ghostly rustle or semblance), there was
even a guilty dream to mark its presence!</p>

<p>But what of the inmates of the old log farm-house by
the pleasant river?</p>

<p>The morning came, and the agonized parents found that
their daughter had gone. Robert Nettleton set his teeth
and swore that he would never search for her, while his
poor wife was completely broken and crushed as much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>
from the agonized fears that flooded into her heart as
from the actual loss of her child.</p>

<p>The most dejected member of the household, however,
was a new-comer, one Dick Hosford, who years before
had drifted into the Nettleton family and had been
brought up by them until, becoming a stout young man,
he was borne away in the gold excitement with the
"Forty-niners" to California, where by hard work and
no luck whatever, being an honest, simple soul, he had
got together a few thousand dollars; with no announcement
of his proposed return, had come back as far as
Terre Haute, Indiana, where he had purchased a snug
farm, and immediately turned his footsteps towards Mr.
Nettleton's, arriving there the very morning after Lilly's
departure, as he said, "to marry the gal, but couldn't
find her shadder."</p>

<p>He was simply inconsolable, and it took off the keen
edge of the parents' grief somewhat to find that another
shared it with them, and even seemed to feel that it was
all his own.</p>

<p>So it was arranged that the inquisitive neighbors should
only know that Lilly had "gone to town for a week or
two," while Dick Hosford should go to Chicago, and then
back east as far as Detroit, making diligent search for
something even more tangible than the "shadder" of the
lost girl; and as he said good-by to the Nettletons with
quivering lips and suspiciously dimmed eyes, he added:</p>

<p>"Bob Nettleton, and mother&mdash;for you've always been
a half-dozen mothers to me&mdash;don't ye never expect to see<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>
me back to these yer diggin's 'thout I bring the gal. I've
sot my heart onto her; and" with an oath that the Recording
Angel as surely blotted out as Uncle Toby's, for
it was only the clinching of a brave determination, "I'll
have her if I find her in a&mdash;&mdash;" He stopped suddenly
as he saw the pain in their faces, shook their hands in a
way that told them more than his simple words ever
could have expressed, and trudged away with as little
certainty of finding whom he sought, save by accident&mdash;or,
if found, of securing the prize for himself, unless
through her whim&mdash;as of ever himself becoming anything
save the honest, faithful, gullible soul that he was.</p>

<p>At Detroit, Mother Blake had orders to provide Lilly
Mercer, her latest charge, with a suitable wardrobe and
some fine pieces of jewelry, which was accordingly done;
and in the novelty of her transformation, which really
made her a beautiful young woman, her ardor of fondness
for Bland was certainly sufficient to gratify both his vanity
and passion to the fullest extent. But, to some women,
both passion and finery must be frequently renewed in
order to insure constancy; and while Bland was as hopelessly
in her toils as ever, as she had always despised him
and now despised his offerings, which were neither so
numerous or costly as at first, she became almost unmanageable,
caused Mother Blake great perturbation of
spirit, and led Bland a deservedly stormy life.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2>

<div class="chapdesc"><p>Reckless Fancies.&mdash;The "Cursed Church Interests."&mdash;Bland's "little
Bird" becomes a busy Bird.&mdash;Merges into a great Raven of the
Night.&mdash;Gathers together Valuables.&mdash;And while a folded Handkerchief
lies across the Clergyman's Face, steals away into the
Storm and the Night.&mdash;Gone!&mdash;"Are ye all dead in there?"&mdash;Drifting
together.&mdash;"Don't give the Gal that Ticket!"&mdash;A great-hearted
Man.&mdash;The Rev. Bland officiates at a Wedding.&mdash;Competence
and Contentment.</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">A</span> FEW weeks later, one November evening, the first
snow-storm of the year came hurrying and skurrying
down upon the city. The streets seemed filled with
that thrilling, electric life which comes with the first snow-flakes,
and as they tapped their ghostly knuckles against
the panes of Lilly Mercer's boudoir, the weird <i>staccato</i>
passed into her restless spirit and filled her mind with
wild, reckless fancies. The storm had beaten up against
the cottage but a little time until it brought Bland with it.</p>

<p>He came to tell his Lilly, he said, that the cursed church
interests would compel him to go to the West, to be absent
for several weeks. In mentioning the fact he sat down
by the fireplace and gave her some money for use while
he was away, and also counted over quite an amount
which he had provided for his travelling expenses.</p>

<p>He also told her that he should leave the next evening,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>
and would, after a little time, of course, return for the
night, as he could never go on so long a journey without
spending the parting hours with his little bird, as he had
come to call her.</p>

<p>His little bird had sat remarkably passive during all
this, but now fluttered about him with cooings and regrets
innumerable, and seemed to still be in a flutter of excitement
when he had gone; for, after walking up and down
the rooms for a time, she flung some wrappings about her,
and quickly glided out among the pelting flakes that hid
her among the hurrying thousands upon the streets and
within the shops, until she as rapidly returned.</p>

<p>Within the warm nest again, there was a note to be
written, and several feathery but valuable trifles to be
got together. In fact, Bland's little bird was a busy bird,
until when, at a late hour, he came back to its unusually
tender ways and wooings, and was soon slumbering beside
it.</p>

<p>Then the little bird became a great raven of the night,
and stole quietly about the apartments, gathering together,
quite like any other raven, everything that pleased its
fancy, including even the money that was to have been
used in the "cursed church interests," and the gold watch
that ticked away at its sleeping owner's head, but not
loud enough to awaken him, for he slept with a peculiar
heaviness, and, strangely enough, with a folded handkerchief
across his face. But the raven of the cottage, in a
quiet way that ravens have, never ceased gathering what
pleased it, until the early hours of morning, when, kissing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>
its beak to the bed and the sleeper, and flinging upon the
bed a little note which read:</p>

<div class="blockquot">
<p><i>A double exposé if you like.</i></p>
<p class="ralign smcap">Lilly "Mercer."&mdash;</p>
</div>

<p>took itself and its gathered treasures out into the storm
and the night.</p>

<p>The storm was gone when the chloroformed man
awoke, and the bright sun pushed through the shutters
upon his feverish face. Slowly and with great effort he
groped his way back to consciousness, and with a thrill
of fear reached out his hand for his little bird, and to
reassure himself that what was flooding furiously into his
mind was untrue, and was but some horrible nightmare
that her dear touch would drive away. But the place
where she had lain was as cold and empty as her own
heartless heart; and as he faintly called, "Lilly! oh,
Lilly!" the very realistic voice of Mother Blake was heard
in the hall, and her very realistic fists banging away against
the door.</p>

<p>"Say, Bland, are ye all dead in there? Lord! it's
broad noon!"</p>

<p>All dead? No; but far better so, as the Rev. Mr.
Bland with a mighty effort sprang from the bed and saw
the gas-light struggling with the sunlight, the dead ashes
in the fireplace, and himself in the great mirror, a dishonored,
despoiled, deserted roué, drugged, robbed and
defied by the simple maiden from the log farm-house by
the pleasant river.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p><p>The same evening two persons on wonderfully different
missions drifted into the depot and transfer-house at
Detroit, and mingled with the great throng that the east
and the west continually throw together at this point.
One was a handsome, apparently self-possessed young
lady, who attended to her baggage personally, and moved
about among the crowds with apparent unconcern;
though, closely watched, her face would have shown anxiety
and restlessness. The other was a gaunt, though
solidly built young fellow, whose clothes, although of good
material, had the appearance of having been thrown at
him and caught with considerable uncertainty upon his
bony angles. He wandered about in a dejected way,
looking hither and thither as if forever searching for some
one whose discovery had become improbable, but who
should not escape if an honest search by an honest, simple
fellow as he seemed to be, could avail anything. By
one of those unexplainable coincidences, or fatuities, as
some are pleased to term them, these two persons&mdash;the
one desirous of avoiding a crowd, and the other anxious
to ascertain whom every throng contained&mdash;approached
the ticket-office from different directions at the same
moment.</p>

<p>He at the gent's window heard her at the ladies' window
say to the agent, "Yes, to Buffalo, if you please;"
and he jumped as though he had been lifted by an explosion.
He peered through the window and saw her face
at the other window, and without waiting to step around
to her, yelled to the agent like a madman: "Say, you,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>
mister!&mdash;don't give the gal that ticket. It's a mistake.
She's going 'tother way;" and shoving his gaunt head
and shoulders into the window and wildly gesticulating
to the young lady, as the agent in a scared way saw the
muscular intruder hovering over his tickets and money-box,
he continued excitedly:</p>

<p>"Say, Lil, old gal! Lil Nettleton!&mdash;Dick&mdash;Dick
Hosford, ye know! Ain't I tellin' the truth? ain't it all
a mistake, and ain't you goin' the other way&mdash;with <em>me</em>,
ye know&mdash;yes, 'long with Dick?"</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<a href="images/42-43-lg.jpg" class="noline">
<img src="images/42-43-sm.jpg" width="400" height="258" alt="" title="" />
<span class="caption"><br /><i>"Say, you?&mdash;mister?&mdash;don't give the gal that ticket! It's all a mistake!"&mdash;</i></span></a>
</div>

<p>Lilly Nettleton, for it was no other, nodded to the
agent&mdash;who returned the money&mdash;and quickly stepped
around to help Dick disengage himself from the window,
and then quickly drew him away from the crowd which
the little episode had collected, sat down beside him,
and, heartily laughing at his ludicrous appearance, said,
"Why, Dick, where under heaven did <em>you</em> come
from?"</p>

<p>"Lil, gal," said poor Dick, wiping the tears of joy
out of his eyes, "I come all the way from Californy fur
ye, found ye gone and the old folks all bust and banged
up about it. Fur six weary weeks I've been huntin',
huntin' ye up and down, here and yon, and was goin'
back to Terre Haute, sell the d&mdash;&mdash;d farm I bought fur
ye, and skip back to the Slope to kill Injuns, or somethin',
to drown my sorrow, fur I told the old folks I'd
bring ye back, or never set foot in them diggin's agin'!"</p>

<p>Lilly looked at the great-hearted man beside her in a
strange, calculating kind of a way, never touched by his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>
tenderness and simple sacrifice, but moving very closely
to him in a winsome way that quite overcame him.</p>

<p>"And I come to marry ye, Lil," persisted Dick,
anxiously.</p>

<p>"To marry me, Dick?"</p>

<p>"Yes, and bought ye a purty farm at Terre Haute."</p>

<p>"A farm, Dick?"</p>

<p>"Yes, Lil, a farm, with as snug a little house as ye
ever sot eyes on."</p>

<p>"But where did you get so much money? You never
wrote anything about it."</p>

<p>"No, I wanted to kinder surprise ye; but I got it
honest&mdash;got it honest; with these two hands, Lil, that'll
work for ye all yer life like a nigger, if ye'll only come
'long with me and never go gallavantin' any more."</p>

<p>"And won't you ask me any questions or allow them&mdash;at
home, Dick&mdash;to ask any, and take me just as I
am?"</p>

<p>"Just as ye are; fur better, or fur wus, Lil."</p>

<p>"And marry me here, now, before we go home?"</p>

<p>"Marry ye, Lil? I'd marry ye if I'd a found ye in a&mdash;&mdash;;
I won't give it a name, Lil. I didn't to them,
and I won't to you."</p>

<p>She gave him her hand as firmly and frankly as though
she had been a pure woman, and said, "I'm yours, Dick.
We'll be married here, to-morrow."</p>

<p>She took charge of all the arrangements; called a cab
which took them to the Michigan Exchange; sent Dick
off to his room with orders to secure a license the first<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>
thing in the morning; wrote two notes to a certain person,
one addressed to Mother Blake, and the other to <em>his</em>
post-office box, ordering them posted that night; and
went to her room to sleep the sleep of the just, which,
contrary to general belief, also often comes to the
unjust.</p>

<p>Early in the morning, Dick came with the license and
suggested securing the services of a preacher; but Lilly
said that she had arranged that matter already, and had
got a clergyman who, she was sure, would not disappoint
them; and promptly at two o'clock in the afternoon
courteously admitted the Rev. Mr. Bland, whom she had
given the choice of officiating or an exposure, and who
performed the ceremony in a pale, trembling way
as the wicked old light gleamed in her great, gray eyes,
and the swift shuttles of color played over her curled
lip.</p>

<p>That night found the newly-wedded couple whirling
back to Kalamazoo, where they arrived the next morning
and were driven out to the farm-house, where they were
joyfully welcomed, and where Dick Hosford in his blunt
way announced that he had "found Lil workin' away
like a good girl, had married her and took a little bridal
'tower,' and had come back to have no d&mdash;&mdash;d questions
asked."</p>

<p>So in a few days the young couple bade the Nettletons
good-by and were soon after installed in the pleasant
farm-house near Terre Haute, where the years passed on
happily enough and brought them competence and contentment
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>and three children, who for a long time never
knew the meaning of the strange light in the eyes, or the
swift colors on the lips, of the mother who cared for them
with an apparent full measure of kindness and affection.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2>

<div class="chapdesc"><p>Mr. Pinkerton is called upon.&mdash;Mr. Harcout, a ministerial-looking
Man, with an After-dinner Voice, appears.&mdash;A Case with a Woman
in it, as is usually the case.&mdash;Mr. Pinkerton hesitates.&mdash;An anxious
Millionaire.</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">O</span>NE hot July afternoon in 186-, I was sitting in my
private office at my New York Agency, located
then, and now, at the corner of New Street and Exchange
Place, in the very heart of the money and stock battles
of Gotham, pretty well tired out from a busy day's work
in carrying to completion some of the vast transactions
that had accumulated during the war, and which were in
turn waiting for my professional services to unravel.</p>

<p>It had been a terribly hot day, and the city seemed like
a vast caldron filled with a million boiling victims; and
now that the day's labor was nearly over, I was principally
employed in an attempt to keep cool, but finding
it impossible with everybody about me, settled myself in
my easy-chair at the window to watch the Babel of
brokers below.</p>

<p>From such an altitude, where one can look down
soberly upon these madmen and see their wild antics,
when for the moment they are absolutely insane in their
thirst for gold, never halting at the most extreme recklessness
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>even though they know it may compel wholesale
ruin, it is easy to realize how isolated cases occur
where the whole human nature yields to greed, and
sweeps on to the certain accomplishment of crime for its
satisfaction.</p>

<p>Just after a particularly heavy "rush" had been made,
resulting in a few broken limbs and numberless tattered
hats and demolished garments, and the bulls and bears
were gathered about in knots excitedly talking over their
profit and loss, and wiping the great beads of perspiration,
from their lobster-like faces, I noticed an important-looking
gentleman turn into New Street from the direction
of Broadway, and after edging through the crowds,
occasionally halting to ask a question in the politest possible
manner&mdash;the replies and gestures to which seemed
to indicate that he was seeking my agency, which afterwards
proved true&mdash;this vision of precision and politeness
passed from my sight into Exchange Place, and in a few
moments after I was informed that a gentleman desired
to see me on very important business.</p>

<p>After ascertaining who the gentleman was, and already
knowing him to be a harmless sort of an adventurer, and
under the particular patronage of a wealthy Rochester
gentleman, I admitted him and he was introduced as Mr.
Harcout, of Rochester and New York.</p>

<p>Mr. Harcout was a character in his way, and deserving
of some notice. He was a tall, heavily-built, obese gentleman
of about forty-five years of age, impressive, important,
and supremely polite. His face was a strange combination
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>of imbecility and assumption; while his head,
which was particularly developed in the back part, indicating
low instincts that were evidently only repressed as
occasion required, was consistent with the formation of
his square, flat forehead, which sloped back at a suspiciously
sharp angle from a pair of little, gray, expressionless
eyes, which from the lack of intelligence behind
them would look you out of face without blinking. His
nose was straight and solidly set below, like some sharp
instrument, to assist him in getting on in the world. His
lips, though not unusually gross or sensual, had a way of
opening and closing, during the pauses of conversation
with a persistency of assertion that had the effect of keeping
in the mind of the average listener that great weight
should be attached to what Mr. Harcout had said, or was
about to say; and at the same time, as also when he
patronizingly smiled, which was almost constantly, disclosed
a set of teeth of singular regularity and dazzling
whiteness. A pair of very large ears, closely-cut and
neatly-trimmed hair, and a whitish-olive complexion that
suggested sluggish blood and a lack of fine organization,
complete the sketch of his face, but could never give the
full effect of the grandeur of his assumption and manners,
which were a huge burlesque on chivalric courtliness.
As he entered the room his gloved hand swept to the rim
of his faultless silk hat, and removed it with an indescribably
graceful gesture that actually seemed to make
the hat say, "Ah! my very dear sir, while I belong to a
gentleman of the vastest importance imaginable, be assured
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>that we are both inexpressibly honored by this
interview!" Nor were these all of his strikingly good
points. He was a man that was always dressed in a suit
of the finest procurable cloth, most artistically fitted to
his commanding figure, and never a day passed when
there was not an exquisite favor in the neat button-hole
of his collar. When he had become seated in a most
dignified and engaging manner, he had a neat habit of
showing his little foot encased in patent leather so shining
that, at a pinch, it might have answered for a mirror, by
carelessly throwing his right leg over his left knee, so that
he could keep up an incessant tapping upon his boot with
the disengaged glove which his left hand contained; and,
with his head thrown slightly back and to one side, emphasized
his remarks in a graceful and convincing way
with the digit finger of his soft white right hand. Altogether
he would have passed for a person of considerable
importance and good commercial and social standing;
but to one versed in character-reading he gave the impression
that he might at one time have been an easy-going
clergyman, who had lapsed into some successful
insurance or real estate agency that had been unexpectedly
profitable; or, at least, was a man who had
thoroughly and artistically acquired the science of securing
an elegant livelihood through the confidence he could
readily inspire in others.</p>

<p>"Ah! Mr. Pinkerton, I am very glad to see you&mdash;very
glad to see you; in fact, I take it as a peculiar honor,
though my business with you is of an unpleasant nature,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>
said Mr. Harcout, settling into his chair with a kind of
bland and amiable dignity.</p>

<p>I saw that he was making a great effort to please me,
and told him pleasantly that it was quite natural for people
to visit me on unpleasant business.</p>

<p>"Thank you, thank you," he replied in his rich, after-dinner voice,
that seemed to come with his winning smile
to his lips through a vast measure of good-fellowship and
great-heartedness. "I feel that I am occupying a peculiar
position, both painful and embarrassing to me: first,
as the friend and agent of a wealthy man who is also an
acquaintance of yours, and operates on the Produce Exchange,
here; and second, in being obliged to ascertain
whether you will take our case without your becoming
too fully aware of the particulars, in the event of your
refusal."</p>

<p>"Well," said I encouragingly, highly enjoying his embarrassment
and assumed importance, "if you will give
me a general outline of the matter, I will take it into consideration;
and, in any event, you can rest assured that
our walls have no ears to what our patrons have to say
within them."</p>

<p>"Well, then," replied Harcout with a winning smile,
"to be honest with you, Mr. Pinkerton, there's a woman
in our case; yes&mdash;though I'm very sorry to say it&mdash;the
case is almost entirely a woman case."</p>

<p>"In that event, Mr. Harcout, I must plainly say to
you that I don't like those cases at all. I have all the
business that I can attend to, and even more than I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>
sometimes desire; and I really think you had better secure
the services of some other person."</p>

<p>"Pray don't say so; pray don't say so, Mr. Pinkerton.
Ah! what <em>could</em> induce you to take the case?"</p>

<p>"No sum of money," I replied, "unless I was fully assured
that it was all right&mdash;that is, had the right on your
side. Almost without exception these cases with women
in them, where men become jealous of their mistresses,
mistresses of their men, wives of their husbands, husbands
of their wives, or when the lively and vigorous mother-in-law
lends spice to life, and, indeed, all those troubles
arising from social abuses, are a disgrace to every one connected
with them."</p>

<p>Harcout seemed quite disappointed that I did not express
more avidity to transact the business he proffered,
but continued in his blandest manner:</p>

<p>"Still, supposing, although we were not altogether in
the right, we were endeavoring to defend ourselves
against a vile woman who had manipulated circumstances
so that she had us greatly in her power?"</p>

<p>"I should still feel a great reluctance in taking the
case. All my life I have had one steady aim before me,
and that has been to purify and ennoble the detective
service; and I am sure that all this sort of business is
degrading in the extreme to operatives engaged upon it."</p>

<p>"Very good, very good. But, Mr. Pinkerton, supposing
the person pursued was worth two or three millions
of dollars; that after the parties had met in a casual way,
and, through a strange and unexplainable feeling of admiration
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>mingled with awe which she had compelled in
him, she had acquired a familiarity with his habits, business,
and vast wealth, and had from that time schemingly
begun a plan of operations to entrap him into marrying
her, working upon his rather susceptible temperament
through his peculiar religious belief, in order to gain
power over him, and then, failing to secure him as a husband,
had for some time pursued a system of threats and
quiet, persistent robbery, constantly becoming more
brazen and impudent, until he could bear it no longer,
when he had refused to see her or submit to further
blackmail, whereupon she had heartlessly attempted his
social and financial ruin, by bringing a suit against him for
$100,000 damages for breach of promise of marriage?"</p>

<p>This extended conundrum flushed Harcout, and his
magnificent silk handkerchief came gracefully into use to
very gently and delicately absorb the perspiration that
had started upon his porous face.</p>

<p>"Mr. Harcout," I still insisted, "I should then require
to be unqualifiedly assured that the woman in question
was not a young woman who had really been led to believe
the promise of some man old enough to be her
father, and who should accept the consequences of his indiscretion
philosophically."</p>

<p>"Exactly, exactly," responded Harcout, quite uneasily,
though with an evident endeavor at pleasantry; "and
quite noble of you, too, Mr. Pinkerton! Really, I had
not anticipated finding such delicate honor among detectives!"
and he laughed a low, musical laugh<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>
which seemed to come gurgling up from his capacious
middle.</p>

<p>I told him he might term it "delicate honor" or whatever
he liked; that I had made thorough justice a strict
business principle, and found that it won, too; but that,
with the understanding that he had fairly represented the
case, I would give it my consideration and apprise him
of my decision the next day, giving him an appointment
for that purpose; after which, while verbosely expressing
the hope that I would assist him, he bowed himself out in
a very impressive manner, passed into the street, which
was now nearly as quiet as the Trinity Church-yard close
by, and immediately went to the St. Nicholas, where he
flourishingly reported the interview to the anxious millionaire,
who thanked fortune for such a powerful and majestic
friend.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2>

<div class="chapdesc"><p>In Council.&mdash;Mr. Lyon the Millionaire, with Mr. Harcout the Adventurer
and Adviser, appear together.&mdash;How Mr. Lyon became Mrs.
Winslow's Victim.&mdash;"Our blessed Faith" and the Woman's
strange Power.&mdash;A Tender Subject.&mdash;Deep Games.&mdash;A One
Hundred Thousand Dollar Suit for Breach of Promise of Marriage.&mdash;A
good deal of Money.&mdash;All liable to err.&mdash;A most
magnificent Woman.&mdash;The "Case" taken.</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">I</span>N the meantime I had a conversation on the subject
with my General Superintendent, Mr. Bangs, in
which we weighed the case thoroughly in all its bearings.
I held, as I always do in such cases, if further investigation
proved that the woman was one whose youth, or even
inexperience, was such as to make it probable that she
had been met by a man whose position had dazzled and
bewildered her, and who, from his wealth and opportunities
for exerting the immense influence of wealth, had
led her to believe that he loved her, and had had such attention
lavished upon her as had awakened in her heart
an affection for him which should deserve some consideration,
and that finally, after accomplishing his purpose,
he had flung her from him, as was an every-day occurrence,
it was a case which I could under no circumstances
touch; its justice ought only to be determined in the
courts.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p><p>On the other hand, I argued that if this troublesome
woman was grown in years, had arrived at a mature age,
and had deliberately planned to secure a certain power
over Harcout's friend in the questionable manner ascribed&mdash;had,
in fact, used the "black arts" upon him,
and in every manner possible fascinated him irresistibly,
and wrung from him promises and pledges which no man
in his sane moments would give, in order through this dishonorably-gained
power to secure him for a husband&mdash;or
worse, in the event of failing in this, of levying upon his
wealth for the dishonor she had herself compelled, it was
a case where I had a right to interfere in the best interests
of society, as the professional female blackmailer is
below pity, ought to be beyond protection of any sort
whatever, has forfeited all the actual and poetical regard
due her sex, and should be in every instance remorselessly
hunted down.</p>

<p>This conclusion was easily arrived at; for at each of
my agencies all that is necessary for a decision upon a
desired investigation is that my local superintendent shall
sift the matter, to prove beyond the shadow of a doubt
that the vast power of the detective service under my
control shall not, under any circumstances, be prostituted
to the assistance of questionable enterprises, or the furtherance
of dishonorable schemes.</p>

<p>Accordingly, when Mr. Harcout wafted himself into my
office the next day, like a fragrance-laden zephyr of early
summer, I informed him that he could depend on my
assistance to discover the history and antecedents of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>
woman; but that I should have to reserve the privilege
of discontinuing the service, should it at any time transpire
that my operatives were being employed for the purpose
of discouraging a defenceless woman in securing the
justice due her.</p>

<p>It was arranged that Harcout was to call the next day
with his patron, the persecuted millionaire, and he also
expressed a desire to defer a settlement of the case in
detail until that time, which was quite agreeable to me, as
I wished to see the parties together and closely observe
them, as well as their statements.</p>

<p>The next afternoon Mr. Harcout's elegant card was
delivered to me, with the message that his friend was also
with him. I ordered that they should be at once admitted,
and in a moment the two gentlemen were ushered
into my private office. I immediately recognized the
elder of the two as J. H. Lyon, one of the wealthiest elevator
owners and millers of Rochester, a quiet, shrewd,
calculating business man, who had amassed vast wealth,
or the reputation of its possession, and its consequent
commercial respect and credit.</p>

<p>He was a short, small-sized man, dressed in plain but
rich garments, and wore no jewelry save a massive solitaire
diamond ring. His head, which seemed to contain
an average brain, was solidly set on a great, heavy neck,
that actually continued to the top of the back of his
head without a curve or depression. His hair, and beard&mdash;which
was shaven away from his lower lip to the curve
of his chin&mdash;had a shaggy sort of look, though generally<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>
well kept, and were considerably tinged with gray; while
his eyebrows were remarkably long, irregular, and forbidding.
His eyes were medium-sized, of a grayish-brown
color, and under the heavy shade of the brows somewhat
keen and restless. His cheek-bones were quite prominent,
and below them his cheeks sank away noticeably,
which served to more strikingly show the upward turn
of his nose and his full lips and broad, sensual mouth,
which, with its half-shown, irregular teeth and ever-present
tobacco-stains (for he smoked or chewed incessantly),
gave him a face quite unlike those ordinarily supposed to
be captivating to women. With his broad, bony hands,
large, ill-shaped feet, and retiring, hesitating way, as if
never exactly certain of anything, he was truly a great
contrast to the pompous, elegant gentleman who seemed
to have taken him under his fatherly protection.</p>

<p>Lyon slid into his seat in a nervous, diffident way;
while Harcout, who had just drawn his chair between us,
as if he desired it understood that he did not propose
to yield his office of general manager of this vitally important
affair under any circumstances, beamed on his
friend reassuringly.</p>

<p>After a few remarks on the current topics of the day,
and before they were themselves aware of it, we were
getting along swimmingly towards an understanding of the
subject-matter&mdash;Lyon, who had removed his cigar, fairly
eating an immense amount of fine-cut as the voluble
Harcout rattled away about the bold, bad woman who
had entrapped him.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p><p>"Why, my dear Mr. Pinkerton, it's a terrible matter&mdash;an
infamous affair! My friend here, Mr. Lyon, is quite
nettled about it&mdash;I might say, quite cut up. You can see
for yourself, sir, that it's wearing on him." This with a
deprecating wave of his hand towards Lyon, who nervously
gazed out of the window from under his shaggy
brows.</p>

<p>I merely said that these things <em>were</em> sometimes a little
wearing.</p>

<p>"But you see, Mr. Pinkerton, this is a peculiarly cruel
case&mdash;a peculiarly cruel case. Hem! <em>I</em> know what is
cruel in this respect, as I was once victimized by very
much the same sort of a female, though she was <em>much
younger</em>. Why, do you know, sir," and here the sympathetic
Harcout's voice fell into a solemn murmur, "that
my friend's beloved wife was scarcely at rest beneath the
daisies when this Mrs. Winslow began worming herself
into the confidence of my somewhat impressible friend
here?"</p>

<p>I made no answer, and only took a memorandum of
the facts developed, not forgetting Harcout's statement
that he had once been victimized by very much the same
sort of a female.</p>

<p>"She came to Rochester as a shining light among the
exponents of our blessed faith&mdash;&mdash;"</p>

<p>"And what may your religion be?" I asked.</p>

<p>"We believe in the constant communication between
mortals and the occupants of the beautiful spirit home
beyond the river."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p><p>"Exactly," said I, noticing the remarkable development
at the back of their heads and about their mouths.</p>

<p>"And our friend here, Mr. Lyon," continued Harcout,
with his eyes devoutly raised to the ceiling, "met her at
one of our pleasant seances."</p>

<p>I made another note at this point.</p>

<p>"To be frank&mdash;'hem! it's my nature to be frank&mdash;"
then turning his face to me and raising his eyebrows
inquiringly&mdash;"I suppose, Mr. Pinkerton, it is quite desirable
that I should be so?" To which I responded,
"Necessarily so," when he resumed: "To be frank,
then, Mr. Lyon was wonderfully interested in her. In
fact, the woman <em>has</em> a strange power of compelling admiration
and even fear&mdash;shall I say fear, Mr. Lyon?"</p>

<p>"Guess that's about right," said Mr. Lyon tersely.</p>

<p>"Admiration and fear," repeated Mr. Harcout, as if
thinking of something long gone by, while Lyon chewed
more fiercely than ever. "Indeed, Mr. Pinkerton, she's
a superb woman&mdash;a superb woman; but a she-devil for
all that!"</p>

<p>I noticed that Harcout's fervor seemed to have come
from some similar experience, and I noted both it and his
heated estimate of Mrs. Winslow, although he remarked
that he had never met her.</p>

<p>"Well, my friend here was irresistibly drawn to her,
and he has told me that for a time it seemed that he had
found his real affinity. You felt that way, didn't you,
Lyon?"</p>

<p>Lyon nodded and chewed rapidly.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p><p>"But for a long time the more my friend endeavored
to secure her favor, the more she seemed to draw away
from and avoid him, though constantly making opportunities
to more deeply impress him with her most splendid
physical and mental qualities. My friend recollects now,
though he gave it no attention at the time, that she
shrewdly drew from him much information regarding his
family affairs, habits, business relations, and wealth; and
as she was, or pretended to be, a medium of great power,
at those times when he sought her professional services
she worked upon his feelings in such a peculiar manner as
to completely upset him."</p>

<p>Here Mr. Lyon offered an extended remark for the first
time, and said: "The truth is, Mr. Pinkerton, this is a
subject that I am particularly tender upon. I think
under certain circumstances I could really have made the
woman my wife;" then turning to his agent, he said,
"Harcout, cut it short."</p>

<p>"But," Harcout protested, "we can't cut it short.
Mr. Pinkerton wants facts&mdash;he must have facts. Well,
at one time Mr. Lyon felt a real affection for the woman,
which does him honor&mdash;is no disgrace to him; but after a
time began to suspect, and eventually to feel sure, that
Mrs. Winslow was playing a deep game; indeed, had
originally come to Rochester for that purpose; and while
he still regarded her highly on account of her fine qualities,
refrained from seeking her society, which at once
seemed to awaken a violent and uncontrollable passion
for him in her heart. She sought him everywhere and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>
compelled him to visit her frequently, lavishing the wildest
affection upon him, which he delicately repelled&mdash;delicately
repelled; and, as she represented herself in
straitened circumstances, charitably assisted her just as he
would have done any other person in want&mdash;any other
person in want; but, you see, Mrs. Winslow presumed
upon this, accused him of having broken her heart, and
was now cruelly deserting her after he had taught her to
worship him."</p>

<p>Mr. Lyon's nervous face presented a singular combination
of pride at his own powers, chagrin at his predicament,
and a general protest that the tender privacies of a
millionaire should be thus disclosed.</p>

<p>"In this way," continued Harcout, "she so worked
upon his kindly feelings that he really gave her large sums
of money&mdash;large sums of money."</p>

<p>"A good deal of money," interrupted Mr. Lyon.</p>

<p>"But finally," pursued Harcout, "my friend saw that
he must discontinue his charity altogether, and through
my advice&mdash;hem! through my advice, he did. Mrs.
Winslow then became very impudent indeed, and annoyed
my friend beyond endurance, until he was forced to
refuse to recognize her, and gave orders that she should
be denied admission to his office. But, being a very talented
woman&mdash;&mdash;"</p>

<p>"She <em>is</em> talented," said Lyon, with a start.</p>

<p>"She has found means to continue her operations
against him incessantly, demanding still larger sums of
money, and has engaged counsel to act for her. Hem<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>!&mdash;under
my advice, quite recently Mr. Lyon, by paying
her five thousand dollars, secured from her a relinquishment
of all claims against him, rather than oblige a public
scandal. But now Mrs. Winslow claims that this was
secured by fraud, and after making another fruitless
demand for ten thousand dollars, which&mdash;hem! Mr. Lyon
resisted through my advice, last week began suit against
him for one hundred thousand dollars for breach of promise
of marriage. And a hundred thousand dollars is a
big sum of money, Mr. Pinkerton."</p>

<p>"A big sum of money," echoed Lyon.</p>

<p>"But of course," continued Harcout, inserting his
thumbs in the arm-holes of his vest and looking the very
picture of injured virtue, "Mr. Lyon cares nothing for
that amount. It is the principle of the thing. It is the
stain upon his good name that he desires to prevent&mdash;and
these juries are confoundedly unreliable."</p>

<p>"Confoundedly unreliable," repeated Lyon, chewing
nervously.</p>

<p>"Therefore," said Harcout, "really believing, as we
do, that we&mdash;hem! that is, Mr. Lyon, of course&mdash;is the
victim of a designing woman who really means to wrongfully
compel the payment of a large sum of money and
ruin my friend in the estimation of the public, we are
anxious that you should set about ascertaining everything
concerning her for use as evidence in the case."</p>

<p>After asking them a few questions touching facts I
desired to ascertain, the interview terminated with the
understanding that Harcout should act for Mr. Lyon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>
unqualifiedly in the matter, and call at my office as often
as desirable to listen to reports of the progress of my
investigations into the life and history of Mrs. Winslow.
I was satisfied that not half the truth had been given me,
and I was more than ever convinced of this fact when
Lyon called me to one side as the lordly Harcout passed
out, and said to me hurriedly:</p>

<p>"Don't be too hard upon the woman, Mr. Pinkerton.
You know we are <em>all</em> liable to err; and&mdash;and, by Jupiter!
Mrs. Winslow is certainly a most magnificent woman&mdash;a
<em>most</em> magnificent woman," and then chewed himself out
after his courtly henchman.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>

<div class="chapdesc"><p>The Case begun.&mdash;Mr. Pinkerton makes a preliminary Investigation at
Rochester.&mdash;Mrs. Winslow, Trance Medium.&mdash;A Ride to Port Charlotte.&mdash;Harcout
as a Barnacle.&mdash;Much married.&mdash;Mr. Pinkerton
visits the Mediums.&mdash;Drops in at a Washington Hall Meeting.&mdash;Sees
the naughty Woman.&mdash;And returns to New York convinced that
the Spiritualistic Adventuress is a Woman of remarkable Ability.</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">A</span>S the interview related in the previous chapter
occurred on Friday, and I could not attend to
the matter at once, I was obliged to wait until the following
Sunday evening, when I quietly took the western-bound
express, which brought me to Rochester the
following noon, where I engaged rooms at the Brackett
House under an assumed name, and immediately began
a preliminary examination on my own account, having
directed my New York Superintendent to inform either
Lyon or Harcout, in the event of their calling at the
agency, that I could not be seen regarding their matter
for a few days, as I had suddenly been called South on
important business.</p>

<p>My object in doing this was to look over the ground
at Rochester myself, and get an unbiased idea of the
whole matter, so that I could properly proceed with the
work, being satisfied that this was the only way to secure
a basis to operate upon, as I was sure that I had not got<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>
at the bottom facts in the late interview. I invariably
insist on having all the facts, and always take measures
to secure them before any decided move is made.</p>

<p>As a rule, however, in cases of this kind, it is almost
impossible to secure what the detective absolutely needs
from the parties from whom the information should
come; as it is a principle of human nature possessed
by us all, to be very frank about our merits, and quite
careful about mentioning anything that might be construed
into either a lack of judgment or principle.</p>

<p>I found that the New York papers were already publishing
specials concerning the matter, with solemn editorials
regarding the perfidy of man, the constancy of
woman, and the general cussedness of both; and that at
Rochester the knowledge of the commencement of the
suit had just got into the papers, and consequently, into
everybody's mouth; and was creating a great sensation,
as Lyon was known to the whole city as one of its richest
citizens, "though a little off on Spiritualism lately," as
the talk went; and Mrs. Winslow had also become quite
notorious from her magnificent figure and winning manner,
her equally notorious mediumistic powers, and
through her prominent connection with the more <em>material</em>
believers in spiritual phenomena; or, to be plain,
that vast majority of so-called spiritualists whose only
visible means of support are in excellently humbugging
their brethren or sisters, or any other portion of the
gullible world with whom they come in contact.</p>

<p>Nearly every Rochester paper contained the advertisement
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>of Mrs. Winslow, trance medium, and I concluded
that either the lady had been unusually successful in her
trance business, or that her levies upon Lyon had been
remunerative&mdash;perhaps both&mdash;to pay for such extensive
advertising.</p>

<p>After dinner I took a stroll and found that the lady
occupied very luxurious apartments on South St. Paul
street, near Meech's Opera-house, a location well adapted
for her business. I also ordered a carriage and drove
out to Port Charlotte&mdash;a magnificent drive through a
lovely country dotted with fine farm-houses and the
splendid suburban residences of wealthy Rochester citizens&mdash;and,
as a casual stranger, inspected Lyon's warehouses
and elevators, the largest and most expensive at
the Port, returning to the Brackett House in time to eat
a hearty supper.</p>

<p>After supper, without any effort, and without disclosing
my identity, I got into conversation with the genial landlord
of the house, who gave me&mdash;as a part of my entertainment,
I presume&mdash;a rich account of Lyon's business
relations, and particularly of his personal habits, painted
in entirely different colors than by the blarneying tongue
of Harcout; and also spoke of the latter as "a d&mdash;&mdash;d
barnacle," who had in some unexplainable way fastened
himself upon Lyon and was living like a prince off the
"old fool," as he called him. He also told me confidentially
that he believed Mrs. Winslow to be a woman
of questionable character; as, when she first came to the
city, she had stopped at his hotel, and had advertised her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>
mediumistic powers so largely that it had brought a class
of men there whom he thought, from his personal knowledge
of their habits, to be more interested in inquiries
into the mysteries of the <em>present</em> than of the hereafter,
until he had become so anxious as to the reputation of
his house that he had informed the lady of the preference
of her absence to her company; whereupon she had raised
such a storm about his ears that he was only too glad to
compromise by letting her go, bag and baggage, without
paying her bill, which was a large one and of a month's
standing.</p>

<p>I also gained from him the opinion that she had been
married a half-dozen times, or as often as had suited her
convenience; and that he had only a day or so previous
conversed with a gentleman from some part of the West,
who had told him that somebody in Rochester had assisted
her in procuring her a divorce from her husband.
I made a note of all these points after I had retired to
my room, and felt quite satisfied with the day's work.</p>

<p>The next day, with a gentleman at the hotel with
whom I had become acquainted, representing myself as a
person of means who might possibly make an investment
at Rochester, I visited Lyon's mills, and incidentally
became quite well informed as to his financial and social
standing.</p>

<p>The latter was a little peculiar. His wife, a most
estimable lady, had died a few years previous, and it
appeared that during her life the Lyon family were
among the aristocrats of the city; but at her death, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>
Lyon's subsequent dabbling in Spiritualism, they had
been gradually dropped from the visiting lists, and nothing
remained of the former home circle save a gaunt,
grim mother-in-law, who vainly waged war against the
loose habits, laxity of morals, and general degeneracy
that had come with the new order of things.</p>

<p>I also secured the addresses of all the professional
mediums, fortune-tellers, and astrologers of the city, and
during that day and the next visited their rooms, claiming
to be a devoted believer in Spiritualism, having my fortune
told at various places, and picking up a good deal
of information regarding the fascinating Mrs. Winslow,
which tended to prove her a remarkably talented woman,
capable of not only attending to her mediumistic duties,
but also of carrying on litigation of various kinds in
different parts of the country. My investigations also
showed that these different "doctors" and "doctresses,"
claiming to perform almost miraculous cures and their
ability to foretell the fates of others through the aid of
this supernatural spirit-power, were quite like other people
in their bickerings and jealousies, and, as a rule, they
gave each other quite as bad names as the public generally
gave them; and that Mrs. Winslow could not have
been considered exactly the pink of perfection if judged
even by those of her own persuasion, as one vaguely
hinted at her having played the same game on other
parties. Another was sure she had been a camp-follower
during the war. Another assured me that she had similar
suits at Louisville, Cincinnati, and St. Louis. Still<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>
another was quite certain that she was only a common
woman. Altogether, according to these reports, which
were easily enough secured, as her case against Lyon was
the engrossing subject of the hour at Rochester, it
appeared that the ravishing Mrs. Winslow held her place,
such as it was, in the world more through her supreme
will power, and the respect through fear she unconsciously
inspired in others, than through any of the tenderer graces
or a superabundance of personal purity.</p>

<p>From cautious inquiries and the wonderful amount of
street, saloon, and hotel talk which the affair was causing,
I also ascertained that Mrs. Winslow had made her
appearance in Rochester some years before; some said
from the east, and some from the West, but the preponderance
of evidence indicated that it had been from the
West; that she had at once allied herself with the spiritualists
of the city, and Lyon had first met or seen her at
one of their seances or lectures; that he had at once
yielded to her charms, and begun visiting her for "advice,"
as it was sarcastically reported, continuing the
visits with such frequency and regularity as to hasten the
death of his wife, after which event he had given his new
affinity nearly his entire attention until she had come to
be commonly considered as his mistress; that she had
frequently boasted among her friends that she was to become
Lyon's wife, and was even by some called Mrs.
Lyon, to which pleasant designation she made no murmur;
that she had made a common practice of visiting
Lyon at his offices in the Arcade, where she had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>
treated with considerable deference and respect by his
employees; and that during this period Mrs. Winslow had
made several trips to the West, evidently at Lyon's instigation,
and through his financial aid.</p>

<p>I found also that she was as truly a believer in the
farces others of her profession enacted for her benefit as
she was in the mediumistic power she had persuaded herself
that she possessed, and was consequently a regular
attendant at all the meetings and seances held in the
city; and as there was one to be held that evening at
Washington Hall, I decided to attend for the purpose of
getting a good view of the lady with whom, for a time,
we should be obliged to keep close company. Accordingly,
at half-past seven o'clock I found the hall, which is
but a few blocks above the bridge on Main Street, and
after purchasing a ticket of a sleek, long-haired individual
with deft fingers and a restless eye, passed into the room,
where there was already quite a number of the faithful, all
bearing unmistakable evidences of either their peculiar
faith, or the character of their business.</p>

<p>As the exercises of the evening had not yet begun,
those present were gathered about the hall excitedly discussing
the great sensation of the hour, which was particularly
interesting to them, as the parties to it were both of
their number, and from what I could gather they were
about evenly divided in their opinion as to the merits
of the case&mdash;the male portion of the assemblage warmly
espousing the cause of Mrs. Winslow, and the female
portion as eagerly sympathizing with "poor dear Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>
Lyon," and roundly condemning the naughty woman who
had ensnared him and was so relentlessly pursuing him.</p>

<p>I was sure the naughty woman had now arrived, as
there was a sudden twisting of necks and buzzing of
"That's her&mdash;that's her!" "There's Mrs. Winslow!"
and "Yes, that's Mrs. Lyon!" and the females that had
given Mrs. Winslow such a bad reputation a few moments
before, now pressed around her with sympathizing
inquiries and loud protestations of regard, quite like
other ladies under similar circumstances. But the lady
appeared to be quite unconcerned as to their good or ill
feeling towards her, and swept up the aisle with a regal
air, taking a seat so near me and in such a position that
I was able to make a perfect study of her while apparently
only absorbed in the wonderful revelation that fell
from the trance-speaker's lips.</p>

<p>She appeared to be a lady of about thirty five years of
age, and of a very commanding appearance. She was
not a beautiful woman, but there was an indescribable
something about her entire face and figure that was
strangely attractive. It was both the dignity of self-conscious
power and the peculiar attractiveness of a majestically
formed woman. It could not be said that there
was a single beautiful feature about her face, though it
attracted and held every observer. Her head was large,
well formed, and covered with a wavy mass of black hair
marvelous in its richness of color and luxuriance. Her
complexion was a clear, wax-like white, singularly contrasting
with her hair, delicately arching eyebrows, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>
long, dark lashes, which heavily shaded great gray eyes
that were sometimes touched with a shading of blue, and
occasionally glowed with a light as keen, glittering, and
cold as might flash from a diamond or a dagger's point,
which seemed to work in sympathy with the rapid movement
of her thin nostrils, and the swift shuttles of crimson
and paleness that darted over her curled upper lip,
which, notwithstanding this singularity, touched the full,
pouting lower one with a hint of wild and riotous
blood.</p>

<p>Although Mrs. Winslow was a woman who, being met
in the better circles of society, would have wonderfully
interested every one with whom she came in contact, in
the circle within which she moved, and which, unconsciously,
seemed to be far beneath her, she surely commanded
a certain kind of respect, with a touch of fear,
perhaps; and in any circle of life was undoubtedly one
in whom the ambition for power was only equalled by the
remorseless way with which she would wield it after it had
been gained.</p>

<p>Not once during the whole evening did she by any
movement of her person or motion of her features give
any further indication of her character; and I could only
leave the hall and return to my hotel, and from thence
immediately to New York, with the thorough conviction
that Mrs. Winslow was a remarkably shrewd woman; had
systematically fastened herself upon Lyon with the view
of becoming his wife, or compelling him to divide his immense
wealth with her; would give us plenty to attend to,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>
and had easily gained a wonderful power over Lyon;
which, even after her repeated piracies upon him, and the
evident knowledge he possessed of her villainous character,
was yet strong upon him.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p>

<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2>

<div class="chapdesc"><p>"Our Case."&mdash;Harcout's Egotism and Interference.&mdash;The strange
Chain of Evidence.&mdash;A Trail of Spiritualism, Lust, and Licentiousness.&mdash;Superintendent
Bangs locates the Detectives.&mdash;A pernicious
System.&mdash;Three Old Maids named Grim.&mdash;Mr. Bangs baffled by
Mr. Lyon, who won't be "worried."&mdash;One Honest Spiritualistic
Doctor.&mdash;The Trail secured.&mdash;A Tigress.&mdash;Mr. Bangs "goes
West."</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">O</span>N my return to New York I found that the splendid
Harcout had been using the interim in a succession
of heated rushes from the St. Nicholas Hotel to
the Agency, where he had given my superintendents and
clerks voluminous instructions as to how the investigation
should be conducted, and, in explaining his idea of how
detectives should work up any case, permeated the entire
establishment with his fragrant pomposity. He was
also quite impatient that nothing had been done in "our
case," as he termed it, and I could only pacify him by
assuring him that it should be given my immediate attention.</p>

<p>As soon as I could dispose of Harcout I held another
consultation with my General Superintendent, during
which the information I had secured at Rochester was
analyzed and recorded, and which, with some other facts
already in possession of the Agency bearing on the case,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>
we decided to be sufficient to warrant a conclusion that
Mrs. Winslow was not Mrs. Winslow at all, but somebody
else altogether, and had had as many <i>aliases</i> as a cat is
supposed to have lives. It was also quite evident, the
more we looked into the matter and searched the records,
that certain other cities of the country had suffered from
the much-named Mrs. Winslow, and in many instances in
a quite similar manner to that of the Rochester infliction.</p>

<p>Running through all the strange chain of evidence that
the records of our almost numberless operations gave,
there were also found items which told of a female not altogether
unlike Mrs. Winslow, and there were in them all
traces of a woman absolutely heartless, cold, calculating,
cruel; now here under one name and in one guise, now
there under another name and in another guise, but forever
upon that unrelenting search for power and with that
remorseless greed for gold, and also showing as truly a
trace of spiritualism, of lust, and of licentiousness.</p>

<p>Of course the result of it all was only a question of
time; only a question of duration in villainy and shrewd
human deviltry; a mere question of how long supreme
depravity would wear in a constant war upon fairness,
purity, and the conscience of society. It never wins&mdash;it
always loses, and, as certain as life or death, good or
evil, reaches its sure punishment here, whatever may be
the result in that undiscovered territory of the future
which the preachers find happiness and good incomes in
quarrelling over. But as my long experience with crime
and criminals had proven to me the fact that one desperately
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>bad woman brings upon society vastly more misery
than a hundred equally as bad men, and being equally
as certain that Mrs. Winslow was an exceptionally bad
woman, I felt no regret whatever in becoming her Nemesis,
and even experienced a peculiar degree of satisfaction
in inaugurating a crusade against her as a pitiless, heartless,
dangerous woman, utterly devoid of conscience, and
without a single redeeming trait of character.</p>

<p>I accordingly detailed two of my operatives, Fox and
Bristol, to proceed to Rochester in charge of Superintendent
Bangs, whom I gave instructions to locate the men
so that they could keep Mrs. Winslow under the strictest
surveillance, and make daily reports in writing to me concerning
her habits and associates, and operations of any
character whatever, using the telegraph freely if occasion
required. I also instructed him, after the men were located
in Rochester, and he had followed up the clue I had
got for him as to Mrs. Winslow's western exploits, to proceed
to the West, taking all the time necessary, and ascertain
everything possible favorable or unfavorable to the
woman; as I held it to be not only a matter of utmost
importance to thorough detective work, but also a principle
of common justice, that any suspected person should
receive the benefit of whatever good there is in them.</p>

<p>For these reasons I have always fought against the system
of rewards for the capture and conviction of supposed
criminals. There could be nothing more absolutely
unjust. Under that system, through a combination of
circumstances, an innocent party is often deemed guilty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>
of crime, and the detective, anxious to secure professional
honor and large remuneration for small work, begins with
the presumption of guilt, and industriously piles up a
mountain of presumptive and circumstantial evidence
that times without number has sent innocent persons to
the felon's cell or the hangman's noose.</p>

<p>On arriving at Rochester the following Monday, Bangs
took rooms at the National Hotel, opposite the court-house&mdash;a
house more a resort for persons in attendance
at the courts, and people visiting Rochester from neighboring
towns, than for fashionable people or commercial
travellers; while Fox settled himself at a little hotel
nearly opposite Mrs. Winslow's rooms on South St. Paul
street, and Bristol found a home at a little saloon, restaurant
and boarding-house, kept by three old maids
named Grim, who were firm believers in Spiritualism&mdash;probably
from never having got any satisfaction out of
life from any other religion&mdash;under Washington Hall, on
East Main street, a place given up to variety shows,
masked balls, sleight-of-hand performances, seances, and
other questionable entertainments; so that they were all
within easy communication, and could work to advantage.
It was also arranged that the reports of Fox and Bristol
should be put in Mr. Bangs's hands, by a mode of communication
which would prevent their being seen together,
before being forwarded to me, so that their observations
might be of assistance in his securing necessary information
for his western tour.</p>

<p>While Bristol and Fox were watching the movements<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>
of the gay madam, familiarizing themselves with the city,
and getting on an easy footing at their boarding-houses,
Mr. Bangs set to work to ascertain if possible in what
part of the West Mrs. Winslow had operated.</p>

<p>He first visited Mr. Lyon at his office in the Arcade,
introducing himself as Mr. Clement, one of my operatives,
not giving his correct name, as the newspaper reporters
were flying around at a great rate for items, and the
appearance of a man so well known by reputation as Mr.
Bangs would have given their overcharged imaginations
an opportunity to flood over several columns of their
respective papers. After being seated in Lyon's private
office Mr. Bangs, as Mr. Clement, began the conversation:</p>

<p>"Mr. Lyon, I am directed by Mr. Pinkerton to ascertain
if possible from you whether Mrs. Winslow has ever
informed you of having at any previous time resided in
the West?"</p>

<p>Lyon gave Bangs a cigar, lighted one for himself, and
after puffing away vigorously for a little time, replied:
"Mr. Clement, I think she has done so, but I can't recollect
what the information was."</p>

<p>"Couldn't you call to mind anything that would be of
some little assistance to us, Mr. Lyon?"</p>

<p>"No," he nervously answered; "no, I think not.
I have put this whole matter away from me as much as
possible."</p>

<p>"We have positively ascertained," continued Bangs,
looking searchingly into Lyon's face, "that she recently<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>
secured a divorce from a former husband. We also know
that some one here in Rochester rendered her substantial
assistance. That person found, tracing her history would
be comparatively an easy matter."</p>

<p>Lyon moved about uneasily, and finally through the
clouds of smoke about his head puffed out, "Indeed!"</p>

<p>"Yes," replied Bangs, "and, Mr. Lyon, if we could
get at the exact truth about this part of it, I am sure it
would not only greatly facilitate our work, but also greatly
lessen the expense of the operation."</p>

<p>Lyon sat for a little time twisting his shaggy gray whiskers,
and finally said: "Mr. Clement, I insist on not
being worried about this business; perhaps Harcout
didn't make that point quite clear. Harcout <em>is</em> a little
flighty, but a noble fellow though, after all. I don't
hardly know what I would do without Harcout, Mr.
Clement; he takes the whole thing off my shoulders, as
it were."</p>

<p>Bangs saw that Lyon could have given him just what
information he needed, and also saw with equal certainty
that he had fully decided to throw the matter off his mind
entirely, and compel us to gain whatever necessary by
hard work. He was also now satisfied of the truth of my
conviction, that Lyon had assisted Mrs. Winslow in this
divorce matter, and had been very much more intimate
with her than he even desired us to know. So he bade
him good-day, returned to his hotel, and telegraphed for
instructions. I directed him to go ahead and use his
own judgment altogether, also suggesting that he should<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>
visit the different clairvoyants and mediums, with a view
of getting further information which might be secured
from their almost ceaseless chatter upon the subject.</p>

<p>As Rochester is as full of mediums as a thistle of
thorns, this was a kind of investigation which necessitated
the expenditure of considerable time, and three days had
elapsed before any information of a satisfactory nature
was secured. He had expended quite a little fortune in
having his "horoscope cast," his fortune told, and his fate
pointed out with such unerring certainty by male and
female seers of every name, appearance and nature, that
if any two of these predictions had borne the slightest
possible resemblance to each other, he would have been
horrified enough to have taken a last leap into the surging
Genesee like poor Sam Patch. But he persisted in
the face of these terrible revelations until he had found a
certain Dr. Hubbard, who proved to be one of the jolliest
of the profession he had ever met. The Doctor was a
pleasant gentleman, and proved more pleasant than ever
when Mr. Bangs informed him that he did not desire any
fortune-telling, predictions or horoscopes, but was interested
in the subject of Spiritualism, and had been
directed to him as one likely to give some information
that could be relied on, for which he would liberally
remunerate him.</p>

<p>As Mr. Bangs had some choice cigars, which he divided
with the Doctor, and the Doctor had some choice brandy,
which he divided with Mr. Bangs, they at once became
easy together, and taking seats at the window overlooking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>
Main street, while watching the crowds below, were soon
chatting away quite unlike two people very badly affected
with spiritualistic tendencies.</p>

<p>After a little time, however, the Doctor looked pretty
sharply at Bangs, and suddenly asked: "Well, who are
you, anyhow?"</p>

<p>"Who am I?" returned Bangs smilingly, "well, to
be frank, I am Professor Owen, of the Indiana State University."
Bangs never blushed at the libel on the kind
old man bearing that name and title, and continued, "It
is our vacation now, and I am travelling a little in the
East investigating this subject. My brother is an enthusiastic
believer in it, but I wished other testimony."</p>

<p>The Doctor seemed to think that the Professor took to
the brandy and cigars quite too familiarly for an educator,
but the explanation satisfied him, and he asked: "Professor,
you want the whole truth, don't you?"</p>

<p>"Nothing but the truth," responded Bangs.</p>

<p>Doctor Hubbard blew out a long series of rings and
expressively followed it with "Humbug!"</p>

<p>"It can't be possible," persisted Bangs.</p>

<p>"It oughtn't to be possible," urged the Doctor, "for a
man of your probable talent and position to be engaged
in investigating what one visit to any one of us should
show to be the most infernal fraud ever practised upon
the public!" said the Doctor heatedly.</p>

<p>Bangs expressed himself as surprised beyond measure.</p>

<p>"Well," continued the Doctor earnestly, "you came to
me like a man, didn't you?"</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p>
<p>Bangs assured him that he was quite right.</p>

<p>"And you came fair and square, without any ifs and
ands, didn't you?"</p>

<p>"All of that," responded Bangs.</p>

<p>"And," continued the Doctor helping himself to the
brandy, then excusing himself and pushing it towards
Bangs, who partook sparingly, "you didn't want any fortune
told, or predictions, or horoscopes, or any other
nonsense?"</p>

<p>"Exactly," said Bangs.</p>

<p>"And you said you'd pay me liberally for information,
didn't you?"</p>

<p>"Yes, and I'll be as good as my word," replied the
assumed professor.</p>

<p>"Well, then," continued the Doctor in a burst of good
feeling, brandy and honesty, "you see in me an unsuccessful
physician, a disciple of Æsculapius without
followers. I graduated with high honors, hung out my
sign, sharpened my tools, moulded my pills, drank a toast
to disease, but waited in vain for patronage. As this became
monotonous," continued the Doctor, taking another
pull at the brandy bottle, then wiping the mouth and passing
it to Mr. Bangs, who excused himself, "I glided into a
'specialist.' It required too much money to advertise,
and the papers slashed me villainously besides. <em>Then</em> I
became a Spiritualist&mdash;it's the record of every one of us.
You can see," and the Doctor waved his hand towards
the cosy appointments in a satisfied way, "I am pretty
comfortable now."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p><p>"Yes, quite comfortable," said Bangs, wondering what
the Doctor was driving at.</p>

<p>"So I am an enthusiastic Spiritualist," resumed the
happy physician, "for its profession has provided me
with necessities, comforts, and even luxuries."</p>

<p>"Do you really effect any of the marvellous cures you
advertise?"</p>

<p>"Most assuredly," he replied.</p>

<p>"And may I ask how?" interrogated Mr. Bangs.</p>

<p>"In the good old-fashioned way&mdash;salts, senna, calomel,
and the blue-pill," said the Doctor, laughing heartily.</p>

<p>"And is not the aid of the spirits essential to your
cures?"</p>

<p>"A belief, or <em>faith</em>, that such an agency is used, does
the whole thing, Professor."</p>

<p>"And is there no such thing?" persisted Bangs.</p>

<p>"Just as much of it as there is faith in it; no more and
no less."</p>

<p>"Then the whole thing's a humbug, as you say?"</p>

<p>"Just as thoroughly as is that woman," said the Doctor
stoutly, pointing to Mrs. Winslow, who at that moment
was seen in the street below, being driven towards the
suburbs in a neat phaeton.</p>

<p>Bangs, becoming suddenly interested, though repressing
himself, carelessly asked, "Who is she?"</p>

<p>Here the Doctor executed a grimace which might mean
a good deal, or nothing at all, and said tersely: "She's
a bouncer; don't you know her?"</p>

<p>"No."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p><p>"Why, that's Mrs. Winslow, old Lyons' soothing
syrup; and old Lyon's one of the children&mdash;'teething,'"
added the Doctor with a hearty laugh. "But she's a
tigress!"</p>

<p>Mr. Bangs leaned out of the window, took a good look
at the tigress, and then, as if endeavoring to recollect
some former occurrence, said: "I believe I have seen
her somewhere before."</p>

<p>"Quite so, quite so; undoubtedly you have."</p>

<p>"And I think in the West, too," replied Mr. Bangs,
trying hard to remember, and handing the doctor a fresh
cigar.</p>

<p>"Exactly&mdash;Chicago, St. Louis, Cincinnati, Louisville&mdash;everywhere,
in fact. One might call her a social floater,
and not be far out of the way either. She used to live
at Terre Haute."</p>

<p>"Terre Haute? Why, of course! I knew I had seen
her somewhere."</p>

<p>"Yes, she lived a few miles out, up the Wabash river,
for years. Her husband's name was Oxford, or Hosford,
or something of the kind."</p>

<p>"Yes?" said Bangs.</p>

<p>"Yes," replied the Doctor; "I didn't know her personally,
but I knew <em>of</em> her there. That's where she first
went off the hook&mdash;and&mdash;and became one of us."</p>

<p>"Is she a remarkable character?" asked Mr. Bangs.</p>

<p>"A remarkable character? Why, sir, she's a wonderful
woman&mdash;a perfect Satan. I wouldn't have her get
after me," said the Doctor, shaking his head protestingly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>
"for ten thousand dollars! Why, sir, that woman has
ruined more men and broken up more families than you
could count."</p>

<p>"And is <em>she</em>, too, a spiritualist?" asked Mr. Bangs.</p>

<p>"A spiritualist? Why, of course she is; and, what is
more, I sometimes think she really believes in her own
mummeries."</p>

<p>"What has become of her family?" asked Bangs.</p>

<p>"Oh, gone to the devil, I presume, just like everybody
she has had anything to do with&mdash;just as old Lyon is certain
to do, too."</p>

<p>"Then this Oxford or Hosford is not living at Terre
Haute now?"</p>

<p>"Couldn't tell you that," replied the Doctor; and then,
suddenly returning to the subject and putting the brandy-bottle
into a little closet with a slam as footsteps were
heard coming up the stairs, "can I be of any further
service to you?"</p>

<p>Mr. Bangs thought not, handed the good Doctor a five-dollar
bill while remarking that he would call again, both
of which evidences of good feeling pleased the latter
immensely, and took his departure quite well pleased
with the result of his inquiries into the wonderful subject
of modern Spiritualism.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2>

<div class="chapdesc"><p>Rochester.&mdash;A Profitable Field for Mrs. Winslow.&mdash;Her sumptuous
Apartments.&mdash;The Detectives at Work.&mdash;Mrs. Winslow's Cautiousness.&mdash;Child-Training.&mdash;Mysterious
Drives.&mdash;A dapper little
Blond Gentleman.&mdash;Two Birds with one Stone.&mdash;A French Divinity.&mdash;Le
Compte.</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">W</span>HILE Superintendent Bangs is on his hunting
expedition in the West, we will follow the fortunes
of Mrs. Winslow in the beautiful city of Rochester.</p>

<p>There is hardly a city in the country better adapted for
either the pursuit of pleasure or wealth than Rochester.
Everything combines to make it so. It nestles in one of
the most beautiful valleys in the world, like the nest of a
busy bird in a luxuriant meadow. There is the sound of
pleasant waters, the roar of a mighty cataract, the din of
two score busy mills, the music of the spindles, the cogs
and the reels, the clash and the clangor of the factories,
the thunderings of the forges, and the footfalls of a hundred
thousand happy, contented people who have wrung
competence and even luxury from the hard hand of
necessity and toil.</p>

<p>From the summit of Mount Hope Observatory, an elevation
of nearly five hundred feet above the lake, there is
a grand picture whereon the eye may rest. At your feet,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>
and to the north, lies the busy city with the noble Genesee
winding rapidly through it, lending its half-million
horse-power force to the needs of labor, then plunging a
hundred feet downwards, eddying and rushing onward,
plunging and eddying again and again, until it sobers into
a steady current northward towards Ontario through a
deep, dark gorge, looking like an ugly serpent trailing to
the lower inland sea where can be seen the city of Charlotte,
formerly called Port Genesee, the port of Rochester,
beyond which, on a clear day, may be seen countless
dreamy sails, and steamers with their trailing plumes of
smoke, and still beyond appears the dim outlines of the
far-off Canadian shore. To the east, as far as can be discerned,
lies a country of the nature of "openings"&mdash;beautiful
groves of trees, magnificent farms, with the
almost palatial homes of the owners, who have become
rich from the legacies of their ancestors with the added
thrift of scores of fruitful years. Southward for a half
hundred miles, stretches the beautiful valley of the Genesee,
dimpled by lesser valleys and a hundred sparkling
brooks, and dotted by field and forest and numberless
groups of half-hidden houses, with outbuildings full to
bursting with the fruitage of the fields; while to the west
along the lake are low ranges of sand-hills, and south of
these extending nearly to Lake Erie is a beautiful prairie
country, while with a glass can be traced the ghostly mist
perpetually hovering above Niagara.</p>

<p>If this scene be inspiring to the looker-on, the intrinsic
beauty of the city, its unusual life, its fine public buildings,
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>business houses, and splendid private residences; its
clean macadamized streets and broad, brick walks, shaded
with the trees of half a century's growth as in many of the
famous Southern cities; its numberless little parks or
"places," owned in common by the proprietors of the
handsome residences which surround them, and filled
with rare shrubs, flowers, beautiful fountains and costly
statuary; the vast <i>parterres</i> of flowers in the suburbs,
sending in upon every summer wind an Arabian wealth
of exquisite fragrance; the large summer gardens, where
beer and Gambrinus reign supreme; the enticing promenades,
and the splendid drives in every direction from the
city&mdash;would give any one not completely at war with
every pleasant thing in life a genuine inspiration of pleasure
and a more than ordinary thrill of enjoyment.</p>

<p>It is little wonder, then, that Mrs. Winslow found Rochester
a profitable field for operating in her peculiar
double capacity of a dashing adventuress and a trance
medium. She found there not only men of vast wealth,
but of vast immorality, as is quite common all over the
world, and hundreds of firm believers in spiritualism,
which was a special peculiarity to Rochester. Among
the first number there were many who sought her for her
charms of figure and manners, which were certainly
powerfully attractive, and which yielded her an elegant
income without positive public degradation, as
no man of wealth and position feels called upon to make
known his own peccadilloes for the sake of exposing the
sharer of them, even though she be a dangerous woman;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>
and consequently there was only that universal verdict of
evil against her which society quite generally, and also
quite correctly, pronounces on forcibly circumstantial
evidence.</p>

<p>Her apartments were elegant, and even sumptuous;
and though there was a quite general understanding of
her character among the epicurean gentlemen of the city,
she held them aloof with such freezing dignity that they
seldom presumed upon her acquaintance, and were even
possessed of a certain respect for her unusually rare
shrewdness in preserving her reputation, such as it was;
so that her rooms, so far as the public were able to ascertain,
were only frequented by those who believed her to
be able to allay their sufferings, or open the gates of the
undiscovered country to their anxious, yearning eyes.</p>

<p>A large amount of money had been paid her by Lyon
to prevent a scandal. The last sum was known to have
been five thousand dollars, and it was quite probable
that if there had been an intimacy so ripe as to have warranted
the payment of this amount, still larger sums had
doubtless been expended in maturing so tender a relation.
In any event it was ascertained by Bristol and Fox
that Mrs. Winslow had for some time been living in elegance,
though at the same time carefully, being given to
no particular excesses, and it was a matter for considerable
speculation whether she was now in the possession
of much money or not.</p>

<p>Fox affected the quiet, well-bred gentleman, expended
sufficient money among the boarders to make them talkative,
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>and even confidential, and in this way learned a
great deal about the madam's habits and peculiarities
that was afterwards useful, though of no particular moment
at that time; while Bristol, who was a florid, well-kept
Canadian gentleman of about forty-five years of age,
of a literary and poetical turn, and with an easy habit of
falling into the manner and brogue of an Englishman,
Scotchman, or Irishman, made himself immensely popular
with the old maids under Washington Hall, who in
turn were enamored with his good physical parts and
blarneying tongue, and were at any time ready to confide
to him all they knew, and, in fact, a great deal more; so
that, as he professed to be an ardent Spiritualist, he was
enabled to become well informed concerning the leading
persons of that persuasion in the city, of whom he forwarded
a complete list, with something of a history of
each; and while not becoming known to or personally
familiar with any one of them&mdash;which would have destroyed
his usefulness, he was yet able to keep track of
nearly all that was said or done within the charmed circle;
as after each lecture, or seance, the economically-built
and antiquated maidens would retire to a little snuggery
behind the restaurant, to which they would invite
the sympathetic Bristol, who was old enough to protect
them from scandal, and then and there, while easing their
by no means ravishing forms of portions of their garments
preparatory to the night's virtuous repose, over strong
toast and weak tea would rattle on in such a bewildering
way about the events of the evening and the good or bad<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>
characteristics of the faithful, that Bristol figuratively, if
not in fact, sat at the feet of a trinity of oracles.</p>

<p>His reports showed that while Mrs. Winslow was accepted
among their number without question, still there
was but little known about her previous history. I felt
satisfied that this was true, and had only stationed Bristol
and Fox at Rochester for the purpose of keeping me informed
of her every movement, knowing well enough
that after Bangs had got a good start he would follow up
her trail in the West as remorselessly as I myself would
have done.</p>

<p>Mrs. Winslow seemed to be absolutely without associates,
either from a confirmed habit of suspicion of everybody
which she seemed to possess, or from a resolve to
maintain as good a character as possible until the Winslow-Lyon
case should be heard in court, so that her evidence,
and particularly her reputation, might not be impeached
or broken down; and it required the constant
attention of both Bristol and Fox to discover in her anything
of even a suspicious character, as the nature of her
mediumistic business&mdash;allowing as it did scores of visitors
daily access to her rooms, only one being admitted to the
trance-room of her apartments at a time&mdash;gave her a vast
advantage over them.</p>

<p>It was evident that she had in a measure persuaded
herself that she had a genuine cause of action against
Lyon; or, that if she had not, she had fully determined
to make a big fight under any circumstances, as both the
prestige secured by the presumption of some shadow of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>
a claim which the mere pressing of it in court would give,
and the assistance to her which even a tithe of the damages
she claimed would be, would not only give her a
degree of importance and respectability which would
greatly assist her in future operations, but would also
yield her the means for future comfort, without this terrible
continued struggle for gold and the happiness it is
supposed to command.</p>

<p>How vain such a hope! and how strange that, with the
bitter reminder of countless never-realized ambitions before
them, the adventurer and the criminal will go on and
on, still clinging to the shadow of a hope that by <em>some</em>
exceptional freak of fortune in their favor they may gain
the peace and quietness they so agonizedly long for, but
which is just as irrevocably decreed to be forever beyond
their reach as were the luscious fruits to escape the touch
and taste of the condemned and tortured Phrygian
king.</p>

<p>And right here, were I a preacher&mdash;being only a <em>doer</em>,
however&mdash;I would show the criminal neglect of parents,
teachers and preachers in forever warring for reformation,
and never battling against the numberless packs of
little foxes of pride and covetousness of society, which
drive weak natures into a constant struggle to excel in
power and display, eating away at the vines until the
life, like the fields, is left barren and desolate, or is only
a vast waste of thorns and noxious weeds. My records
are full of lives wrecked upon the glittering rocks built by
false pride and vanity and the greed for gold which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>
society, and even the aristocratic systems of modern
religion compel. Whatever may be preached, all this
cursed assumption of what is not possessed without years
of honest, sturdy toil, is practised in the pulpit, the pew,
the palace, and the poverty-stricken hovel, permeating
every stratum of business, society and religion, until
honorable action is at discount, dishonesty commands
a premium of gain and lachrymose sympathy, and the
whole world is being swiftly driven into a surging channel
of fraud, crime and debauchery that will require generations
of something besides splendid hypocrisy and
luxurious cant to restrain and purify.</p>

<p>With this digression, which I cannot well avoid, as it
contains the convictions based upon long years of close
observation and peculiar experience, I will return to the
woman whom my operatives found so difficult to analyze
and trace out.</p>

<p>Bangs's visit to Dr. Hubbard showed that she had
a habit of driving out. Bristol and Fox became acquainted
with this fact at once and transmitted it in their
reports. It appeared that the carriage and driver were
secured at a livery stable near the opera house, a short
distance from her rooms and Fox's boarding-house. I
instructed Fox to ascertain to what points these trips
were made, and if any one ever accompanied her. Careful
inquiries at this stable elicited nothing, as Mrs. Winslow's
custom was valuable, and even her driver proved
close-mouthed upon the subject. Accordingly, after Fox
had discovered the general direction taken by Mrs. Winslow
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>and the usual streets frequented at starting, he
strolled out State Street and from thence into Lake
View Avenue, which is but a continuation of State
Street. After he had walked some little distance he was
pleased to find that he had company in the person of
a dapper little blond gentleman who was somewhat in
advance of him, but who, though apparently enjoying the
morning air, seemed both apprehensive of being followed,
and desirous of the appearance of some one for whom he
was waiting. His make-up gave him something of a
foreign air, and was the most exquisite imaginable. He
was a slender, tender nymph of the male order of fairies,
with a face as delicate as a woman's, with large, blue,
expressive eyes, long, luxuriant hair, and as neat a little
moustache as was ever waxed to keep it from melting
away altogether. If his face and figure were neat
enough for a millinery window, his clothing was a model
even for a Poole. His lustrous silk hat scarcely outshone
in richness his faultless dress-coat, which was buttoned
low, exposing a perfect duck vest, a spotless shirt-front
and a low, rolling Byron collar, with a delicate flowing
tie; while his pantaloons, which were of a mellow lavender
color, seemed only to increase the effect of his shapely
legs, and by their graceful swell at the instep only to stop
to disclose a foot perfect enough for a model. His
jewelry consisted of a modest solitaire diamond pin, and
a large seal ring which he wore upon the little finger of
his left hand.</p>

<p>For some reason Fox felt interested in him, and resolved,
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>though looking for a quite different person, to
watch him closely. So he passed him without giving him
an opportunity of seeing his face, and, taking a position
in the bar-room of a small beer-garden a little way
beyond, where he had a good view of the avenue, waited
for developments which were not long in taking place,
as the neat little fellow arrived at the garden a few
minutes after Fox, and shortly after Mrs. Winslow's carriage
was seen coming from the direction of the city.
Fox saw that he was bringing two birds down with one
stone, and anxiously watched Mrs. Winslow and the little
fop, feeling satisfied that their meeting at the garden was
pre-arranged, for as soon as her carriage came in sight,
he had noticed a look of satisfaction come over the man's
face, and when it was driven up to the door he stepped
out nimbly, smiling and bowing like a brisk wax figure at
a show.</p>

<p>The driver was at once discharged, and after watering
the horse, immediately started towards town on foot,
occasionally looking over his shoulder with a sardonic
smile on his face, as if pleased at the loving meeting at
the garden, as that sort of thing probably brought him
many an honest penny; but no sooner had the driver
turned his back on the place than Mrs. Winslow said:</p>

<p>"Come, Le Compte, get me a glass of brandy."</p>

<p>Fox thought that pretty strong for a lady who had been
damaged a hundred thousand dollars by breach of promise
of marriage, but held his peace, and a paper before
his face, while her admirer danced into the bar and procured
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>two glasses of brandy, which he took to the carriage
upon a little tray.</p>

<p>"My dear, you were a little late, eh?" said Le
Compte.</p>

<p>"Ah, a French divinity," thought Fox.</p>

<p>"Le Compte," replied Mrs. Winslow, handing him a
bill with which to pay for the refreshment, and paying no
attention to the little fellow's remark, "tell that d&mdash;&mdash;d
Dutchman that if he don't get some better brandy, I'll
never pay him another penny!"</p>

<p>Fox also thought this pretty strong for the pure,
broken-hearted maiden Mrs. Winslow's bill of complaint
against Lyon showed her to be, and he accordingly made
a note of the same, as her friend returned to the bar-room
and paid for the liquor, while saying to the landlord
that the madam desired him to say that the brandy
was perfectly exquisite in flavor.</p>

<p>Presently Mrs. Winslow called out, "Come, Le
Compte, get in here!" when he ran out with the alacrity
of a carriage spaniel, sprang into the carriage, took the
reins, and drove away towards the country, looking like a
pretty daisy in the shade of a gigantic sunflower.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2>

<div class="chapdesc"><p>The Half-way House.&mdash;A Jolly German Landlord.&mdash;Detective Fox runs
down Le Compte.&mdash;A "Positive, Prophetic, Healing and Trance
Medium."&mdash;Harcout the Adviser reappears, and is anxious lest
Mr. Lyon be drawn into some terrible Confession.&mdash;Mr. Pinkerton
decides to know more about Le Compte.&mdash;And with the harassed
Mr. Lyon interviews him.&mdash;Treachery and Blackmail.&mdash;"A much
untractable Man."&mdash;Light shines upon Mrs. Winslow.&mdash;Another
Man.&mdash;Mr. Pinkerton mad.</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">M</span>ANY other conveyances were passing to and fro,
and Fox's first impulse was to secure a seat in
some one of them and follow the couple in the direction
they had taken. But he recollected that it might cause
either Mrs. Winslow, or the little fellow at her side to
know him again, which would prove disastrous, and he
was consequently obliged to apply his pump to the
important little Dutchman who owned the half-way house,
and who was busying himself around the cool, pleasant
bar-room, making the place as attractive as possible, and
singing lustily in his own mother-tongue.</p>

<p>"Good morning to you!" said Fox cheerily, stepping
to the bar in a way that indicated his desire to imbibe.</p>

<p>"Good mornings mit yourself," answered the lively
proprietor, getting behind the bar nimbly; "Beer?"</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p><p>"Yes, thank you," replied Fox, "a schnit, if you
please. Won't you drink with me?"</p>

<p>"Oh, ya, ya; I dank you; I dank you;" and there
were as many smiles on his honest face as bubbles upon
his good beer.</p>

<p>The glasses touched, Fox said, "Here's luck!" and
the landlord met it with "Best resbects, mister!"</p>

<p>In good time two more schnits followed, and as the
landlord was each time requested to join with Fox, he
was so pleased with his liberality and apparent good
feeling that he beamed all over like a sunny day in
June.</p>

<p>"You have a beautiful place here," said Fox.</p>

<p>"Oh, so, so!" answered the landlord with a quick,
deprecatory shrug which meant that he was very well
satisfied with it.</p>

<p>"I was never here before."</p>

<p>"No?&mdash;So? I guess mebby I don't ever have seen
you. Don't you leef py Rochester?&mdash;no?"</p>

<p>"No, I live in Buffalo, and I just came over to
Rochester on a little business. Having plenty of time, I
thought I would stroll out a bit this morning."</p>

<p>"Ya, I get a good many strollers dot same way.
Eferypody goes out by der Bort."</p>

<p>"The Bort?"</p>

<p>"Ya, ya, der Bort&mdash;Bort Charlotte."</p>

<p>"Is this the way to Charlotte?"</p>

<p>"To be certainly. When you come five miles auf, den
you stand by der Bort, sure."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p><p>"And so that is where the big woman and the little
man were going?" asked Fox carelessly.</p>

<p>"Sure, sure," said the landlord with a knowing wink;
and then taking a very large pinch of snuff, and laying
his forefinger the whole length of his rosy nose, added
with an air of great importance and mystery, "I tell you,
py Jupiter, I don't let somebody got rooms <em>here</em>!"</p>

<p>"That's right, old fellow!" said Fox, slapping the
honest beer-vender on the shoulder. "Be unhappy and
you will be virtuous!"</p>

<p>"Vell," continued the Teuton, excitedly lapsing into
his own vernacular, "<i>es macht keinen unterschied</i>; I
don't got mein leefing dot way. I&mdash;I vould pe a bolitician
first!"</p>

<p>Fox expressed his admiration for such heroism, and
purchased a cigar to assist the landlord in his efforts to
avoid the necessity of either renting rooms to ladies and
gentlemen of Mrs. Winslow's and Le Compte's standing,
or of accepting the more unfortunate emergency of becoming
a "bolitician."</p>

<p>Then they both seated themselves outside the house,
underneath the shaded porch, and chatted away about
current events, Fox all the time directing the conversation
in a manner so as to draw out the genial Teuton on
the subject which most interested him, and was successful
to the extent of learning that Le Compte was what
the landlord termed a "luffer," evidently meaning a
loafer; that several months before, they came there together
desiring a room, which had been refused; but he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>
had directed them to the Port, where they had evidently
been accommodated, as they had after that, until this
time, regularly went in that direction, always stopping at
his place for a glass of his best brandy; and that they had
also always came there together until within a few weeks,
since when, for some reason, this Le Compte had walked
out to the hotel, where she had overtaken him with her
carriage and driver, when the driver would be sent back
to the city, and Le Compte taken in for the drive to
Charlotte, as Fox had seen. He also learned that on
their return, which was generally towards evening, the
driver met them at the same place, when the latter took
the reins, and Le Compte, somewhat soiled from his
trip, walked into the city.</p>

<p>Fox concluded that there would be no better time than
the present to learn something further concerning Le
Compte, and after enjoying himself in the vicinity for
a short time, came back to the hotel, took a hearty German
dinner, and after another stroll secured a room for a
short nap, as he told the landlord, but really for the purpose
of observation. About six o'clock he saw the
driver coming to the hotel from towards Rochester, and
in about a half an hour afterwards noticed the carriage
containing Mrs. Winslow and Le Compte coming down
the road from Charlotte. The couple seemed very gay
and lively, and drove up to the hotel with considerable
dash and spirit. They both drank, as in the morning,
while the driver resumed his old place by the side of Mrs.
Winslow; and as they were about to depart, Fox heard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>
the woman say to Le Compte: "No, not again until
Saturday; I'll try to be a little earlier." Then the
carriage went away, Le Compte loitering about for a few
minutes, after which he started off on a brisk walk towards
town.</p>

<p>As the evening was drawing on, Fox hurried down to
the bar-room, paid his bill, and bidding his host good-by,
trudged on after the little fellow, keeping him well in
sight, though remaining some distance behind to escape
observation, but gradually closing in upon him, until,
when they had arrived within the thickly settled portion
of the city, they were trudging along quite convenient to
each other.</p>

<p>The lamps now began to flare out upon the town, and
the gay shops were lighted as Fox followed his man in
and out, up and down the streets. Le Compte first went
to a restaurant just beyond the Arcade in Mill street,
where he got his supper, and afterwards promenaded about
the streets in an aimless sort of a way for some little time,
after which he returned to the Arcade and seemingly anxiously
inquired for letters at the post-office. He got several,
but was evidently either disappointed at what he had
received, or at not receiving what he had expected. In
any event he cautiously peered into Lyon's closed offices,
as if hoping to find some one there. Disappointed in this
also, he went directly to State Street, near Main, where,
after looking about for a moment, he suddenly disappeared
up a stairway leading to the upper stories of a
large brick block. Fox quickly followed, and was able to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>
catch sight of the little fellow just as he was entering a
room at the side of the hall. He waited until everything
was quiet, and then approached the door. The light from
the single jet in the hallway was not sufficient for the purpose,
but with the aid of a lighted match he was able to
trace upon a neat card tacked to the door the inscription:</p>

<div class="blockquot">
<p class="center">
B. JEROME LE COMPTE,<br />
<span class="sm2">POSITIVE, PROPHETIC, HEALING AND TRANCE MEDIUM.<br />
Psychrometrist, Clairvoyant, and Mineral Locater.</span>
</p>
</div>

<p>As Fox had succeeded in "locating" his man, he returned
to his boarding-house, wrote out his report and
posted it, and after carelessly dropping into the restaurant
under Washington Hall, where he took a dish of ice-cream
and found means to inform Bristol of the latest development,
he returned and retired for the night well satisfied
with his day's work, and fully resolved to be on hand for
Saturday's sport at Charlotte.</p>

<p>I received Fox's report the next noon, and not a half-hour
afterwards the splendid Harcout came rushing in.</p>

<p>"Pinkerton, Pinkerton," he exclaimed excitedly,
"here's something which we must attend to at once&mdash;at
once, mind you, or&mdash;bless my soul! I'm afraid I left it
at the St. Nicholas. How could I be so careless!"</p>

<p>Harcout grew red in the face and plunged into all his
pockets wildly, utterly regardless of his exquisite make-up,
until quite exhausted.</p>

<p>"Why, Harcout, you're excited. Tell me what's the
matter, my man," said I, reassuringly.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p><p>"Matter? matter? everything's the matter. Here's
something which should be acted upon at once, and like
an ass I've left it at the hotel. I'll go back and get it immediately."</p>

<p>"Get what?" I asked him.</p>

<p>"Get a letter that I just received from Lyon. He's
there all by himself, and they will draw him into some
terrible confession. But I&mdash;I must get the letter," and
Harcout grabbed his hat and gloves and started.</p>

<p>"Hold on, Harcout," I called to him, "what is that
you have in your hand?"</p>

<p>"In my hand? Oh, just a private note I got in the
same mail."</p>

<p>"Just look at it before you go," I suggested.</p>

<p>Harcout stopped in the door, examined the letter,
pulled another from the inside of the envelope, and
blurted out sheepishly: "Ah, bless my soul!&mdash;Pinkerton,
this is just what I wanted. Here, quick, read them
both."</p>

<p>I took the letters as Harcout sat down and fanned
himself with his glove, and saw that they were dated from
Rochester on the previous day. The first one was from
Lyon, in which he stated that he had received the enclosed
letter in the morning, probably shortly after Fox had
strolled out Lake View Avenue, also expressing a desire
that Harcout should submit it to me for advice as to the
best course to be pursued, and have the reply telegraphed.
The enclosed letter was from Le Compte to Lyon, insisting
that he should immediately come to his rooms to receive
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>information of the greatest importance. I did not
let Harcout know that I had any information concerning
Le Compte, but I saw that that portion of Fox's report
which stated that he had followed Le Compte to the
Arcade the previous evening, where the latter had anxiously
inquired for mail, and after that had taken a peep
into Lyon's offices, agreed with Lyon's letter as to the time
when Le Compte probably expected an answer from him.</p>

<p>I was at loss to know what the dapper little fellow was
driving at&mdash;whether he and Mrs. Winslow were after
further blackmail, or whether he had secured some confession
from her while she was lavishing her favors and
money upon him, which the treacherous little villain was
endeavoring to make bring a good price through Lyon's
superstitious faith in the power of those who claimed supernatural
powers and a profession of Spiritualism.</p>

<p>I at once decided to go to Rochester and interview
this new apparition in the field in company with Lyon,
and accordingly told Harcout that I would do so, and
would immediately telegraph to Lyon to that effect; upon
which he trotted away, announcing his determination to
also telegraph, so that Lyon might see that he was "attending
closely to our case," as he termed it.</p>

<p>As soon as he had left, I indicted a dispatch to Lyon,
asking him to make an appointment with Le Compte for
an interview on the next afternoon, when I would be
there to accompany him; and after getting my supper,
took the evening train and arrived at Rochester the next
noon.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p><p>After taking dinner at the Waverley, I immediately proceeded
to Lyon's offices. He seemed worried and anxious
to see me, and felt extremely alarmed about the
whole matter, having as yet kept it from his attorney. I
had him send a message for him at once, and in a few
minutes we were all three in consultation. His attorney,
a Mr. Balingal, thought we were doing just right, and, on
leaving, privately informed me that in no event should I
allow any person that professed mediumistic powers to
remain with Lyon alone, as he would be certain to do
something which would in some way compromise the
case.</p>

<p>A few minutes after Lyon's attorney had left, we took
different routes, arriving at the hallway leading to Le
Compte's rooms on State street at about the same time,
ascending the staircase together. A negro, who had borne
a second and a more imperative message to Lyon, was in
waiting at the top, and smilingly showed us along the hall
in the direction of Number 28, which afterwards proved
to be Le Compte's seance-room. The little fellow himself
here stepped out of an adjoining room with a very
insinuating smile upon his face, which suddenly changed
to a look of disappointment as he saw that Mr. Lyon had
rather solidly-built company.</p>

<p>As Mr. Lyon entered the room, this Monsieur Le
Compte undertook to close the door in my face; but I
shoved myself into the room, and told the mineral locater,
etc., that I was a friend of Mr. Lyon's, and insisted on
being one of the party.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p><p>Lyon began timidly looking around the gas lighted
room&mdash;though it was not after three o'clock&mdash;which was
filled with the ordinary paraphernalia for compelling awe
and fear: "I understand you have some business with me.
My name is Lyon."</p>

<p>"Yes, yes," he replied, "I have great business with
you. But I can only make you my <em>one</em> confidant, Mr.
Lyon."</p>

<p>"Oh, well, well, now," I interrupted, with some assumed
bravado, "this sort of thing better play out before
it begins. I am Mr. Lyon's friend, and whatever you
have to say to him will have to be said before me. Isn't
that so, Mr. Lyon?"</p>

<p>Lyon assented feebly, and Le Compte asked: "Will
you make me the pleasure of your friend's name?"</p>

<p>"No matter, no matter," said I quickly, for I knew
how weak Lyon was. "I am here as my friend's friend.
He has nothing to say in this matter. You will have to
inform me of your business with Mr. Lyon."</p>

<p>Le Compte suddenly arose from his chair, locked the
door and put the key in his pocket. He then went to the
windows, which were slightly raised on account of the
heat, closed them, and lowered the curtains so as to shut
out the light completely. Just as he had completed the
work, which took him but a moment, I said to him
sharply: "See here, sir, you will make this room uncomfortably
warm for yourself as well as us, if you are not
careful. Don't send us to perdition before our time, Le
Compte."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p><p>He made no answer, and looked exceedingly meek;
but I saw that he was determined to endeavor to play
upon Lyon's feelings for future profit, even if the present
interview offered none. He immediately seated himself
at a table opposite us, and said to Lyon: "The clairvoyant
state I will go into before anything I can reveal."</p>

<p>"Mr. Le Compte," I interrupted, noticing that Lyon
was already weakening before the scoundrel's assumption,
"if you have got anything to say to Mr. Lyon, go on and
say it with your eyes open, like a man. We won't be
humbugged by you or any one else!"</p>

<p>He did go on now, and with his eyes open, and said:
"Well, gentlemen, I know of this lady who troubles Mr.
Lyon, and learn of much witnesses for his help. But the
clairvoyant state gave it to me."</p>

<p>"No, no, my young fellow," said I, "we don't pay for
that kind of evidence. If you have any evidence in your
possession which will be of benefit to Mr. Lyon, I am
prepared to receive and pay for it; but clairvoyant evidence
isn't worth a cent!"</p>

<p>"Well," he replied, somewhat ruffled, "I can go on the
jury and swear clearly of this!"</p>

<p>I then told him I was satisfied that he did not know
the first principles of law and evidence, and that the probability
was that he had no evidence in his possession at
all. I spoke in a very loud tone of voice, and evidently
frightened the little fellow considerably.</p>

<p>"You are much intractable&mdash;a much intractable man,"
he responded. "I could tell about you greatly to convince
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>you of my power; but it is impossible in double
presence."</p>

<p>"All right," said I. "Mr. Lyon, I don't see as you
have anything to do with this interview, and I want you
to go right back to your office and remain there until I
come!"</p>

<p>Lyon got up in a scared kind of way, and started hesitatingly
towards the door, looking appealingly at me; but
I paid no attention to it, and the little Frenchman instantly
arose and politely showed him out, saying in a low
voice: "My dear Mr. Lyon, it will be for your great interest
to make appointment without the boor."</p>

<p>"Lyon will do nothing of the kind, you little villain,"
I said, as I saw he was shrewdly arranging for future business.
"The 'boor,' as you are pleased to term me, has
the whole charge of this business, and you will transact it
with him or nobody."</p>

<p>Le Compte flushed, closed the door without another
word, locked it, and put the key in his pocket.</p>

<p>I turned on him savagely with: "My friend, what do
you mean? If you make a single treacherous motion,
you'll never get out of this room alive!"</p>

<p>I was now thoroughly mad, and am sure that the little
jackanapes saw it and felt that I might possibly serve him
as he deserved, for he quickly and tremblingly said,
"Oh, if that is the case, I have no objection if you the
key hold; but in clairvoyant state we shall be alone and
locked."</p>

<p>There was a bed in the room, and I suggested that he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>
looked flurried and had better take a rest upon it while
going on with his story; but he seated himself at the opposite
side of the table, and began putting his hands upon his
eyes and drawing them away with an indescribably graceful,
though rapid gesture. This he continued for some
little time, when he brought his hands down upon the table
with considerable force. Then he began the old humbug
about my having had trouble with some one, somewhere
in the United States, at some time or other about something;
that there was another man of uncertain size,
peculiar complexion, unusual hair, singular face, and a
strange, general appearance; and that this difficulty was
about money, he thought it would amount to from five
hundred to one thousand dollars, and that I would receive
this sum within a few weeks. As I said that this
was absolutely true, he was greatly encouraged, and went
on for some time in an equally silly and foolish manner.
I stood it as long as I could, and finally said:</p>

<p>"See here, my friend, you and I must talk business!"
upon which he was wide awake and quite ready to enter
into earthly conversation.</p>

<p>"Well, sir, what <em>could</em> you want?"</p>

<p>"I want this nonsense stopped," I replied rising, at
which he also jumped up nimbly.</p>

<p>"Well," he said, "this woman"&mdash;evidently referring to
Mrs. Winslow, though no name had been mentioned&mdash;"once
lived in Iowa with wrong names!"</p>

<p>"Oh, nonsense!" I replied, "I know that already."</p>

<p>"But," he continued quickly, "I can furnish you the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>
name of another man&mdash;very rich, very rich he is, too&mdash;who
should be by law more her husband."</p>

<p>"Well," said I angrily, though now fully believing the
little fellow for the first time, "write this out fully; give
me the man's name, business or occupation; his place of
residence, his standing, etc.; how he became acquainted
with this woman and under what circumstances they lived
together, and when and where; and when you give me
the information, if I find it reliable, I will pay liberally
for it. If not, I won't pay you a cent. Now, do we
understand each other?"</p>

<p>"I think we do," he answered timidly.</p>

<p>"Le Compte," said I sternly, "there's no use of your
practising this clairvoyant game any longer. You won't
get a dollar out of it; not a dollar. I understand all
about it as well as you do. Now, have a care about
yourself, sir, or one of these bright days you'll be coming
up with a sudden turn."</p>

<p>I now started towards the door; but the persistent
scamp seemed anxious to still keep me, on some manner
of pretext, and stood holding the key in a confused,
undecided way.</p>

<p>"Open that door, you villain!" I demanded; "open
it at once, or you'll get into trouble."</p>

<p>He started suddenly, put the key in the lock, and then
turned to me and asked: "Won't you give me opportunity
to show you I do not swindle. Just let me make
some few little passes over your head. I will sure put
you to sleep quickly!"</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p><p>"I am not sleepy, nor do I need sleep now, thank
you. I had a good nap about an hour since," I answered,
laughing at the little fellow's annoyance. "Now
open that door!"</p>

<p>Le Compte shrugged his handsome shoulders despairingly,
unlocked the door, and as I passed out of the no
less than robber's den&mdash;though under the guise of a mediumistic
and spiritualistic blackmailing headquarters&mdash;he
said: "Well, sir, I will think of this statement a great
deal; but you are a very untractable man; a very untractable
man&mdash;what might I call your name?"</p>

<p>"Oh, anything you like, my little man!" I replied
pleasantly; "but mind, we won't have any more of this
silly business. It won't pay, and you will certainly get
into trouble from it. You may send the statement to
George H. Bangs, at the post-office, by Monday noon,
and if it is what you represent it to be, and reliable, you
will be paid for it; but you may be very, very certain,
Le Compte, that it will prove extremely unprofitable to
you if you attempt any more of this humbuggery upon
Mr. Lyon!"</p>

<p>With this admonition I left Le Compte's, and soon
found Lyon in his office. We arranged that he should
pay no further attention to either Le Compte's or any
other person's communications concerning this case, but
should at once turn them over to his attorneys, who
should immediately forward them to me after reading
them, as I was satisfied that if Le Compte had any evidence
he would never swear to it when the case was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>
tried, and only desired to blackmail Lyon on his own
account, while playing the necessary male friend and confidant
to Mrs. Winslow, who for some reason seemed to
have a strange and unexplainable liking for the little
Monsieur, although exercising great care that her passion
for him should not become a matter for public knowledge
and comment.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2>

<div class="chapdesc"><p>The Raven of the Detroit Cottage in another Character.&mdash;Mrs. Winslow
yearns for a retired Montreal Banker.&mdash;Love's Rivalry.&mdash;A mysterious
Note.&mdash;The Response.&mdash;Another Trip to Port Charlotte by
four Hearts that beat as one.&mdash;What Mr. Pinkerton, as one of the
party, sees and hears.&mdash;"Jones of Rochester."&mdash;Le Compte and
Mrs. Winslow resolve to fly to Paris, "the magnificent, the beautiful,
the sublime!"&mdash;"My God, are they all that way?"</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">A</span>T last the promised Saturday came, and there were
at least three people in Rochester who looked
forward to a pleasant day, and were up betimes that they
might get an early start. Mrs. Winslow, from her sumptuous
apartments, looked out upon the streets and the
glorious morning as if it had come too soon&mdash;as it always
does to those who have not clean hearts and clean lives&mdash;and,
<i>en déshabillé</i>, gazed down through her rich lace curtains
upon the early passers stepping off with a brisk
tread to their separate labors, with a look of contempt.</p>

<p>Nature had been wantonly generous with Mrs. Winslow,
and as she stood there in her loose morning robes, the
first soft breaths that come with the sun from the far-off
Orient playing hide-and-seek among the sumptuous hangings
of her room, and giving just the least possible motion
to her matchlessly luxuriant black hair, while the mellow
and golden rays of the sun, which was just peeping over<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>
the roofs and the chimneys, shimmered upon her through
the curtains, lighting her great gray eyes with a wondrous
lustrousness, heightening the fine color of her face, and
giving to her voluptuous form an added grace&mdash;this utterly
lone woman had not in her heart an iota of tenderness
for, or sympathy with, the glories without, and was as
dead to every good thing in life as though carved from
marble by some sculptor, as she really had been carved
from stone, or ice, by nature. As she stood there by the
window, regarding the passers with such a wise and ogreish
air that Fox, behind the blinds in his window opposite,
could not but couple her in his thoughts with some
splendid beast of prey&mdash;if Mother Blake or the voluble
Rev. Bland could have seen her, the years that had passed
would have been swept away, and in the mature woman
and the conscienceless adventuress would have been
recognized the raven of the Detroit cottage, that, as Lilly
Nettleton, in a habit that ravens have, glided noiselessly
about the other sumptuous apartments, gathering together
what pleased its fancy&mdash;not forgetting the money which
was to have been used in the cursed church interests, and
a gold watch, which the raven wore to this day&mdash;and then,
kissing its beak to the heavily sleeping man, for all the
world like a raven, had passed out into the storm and the
night.</p>

<p>In a few moments she retired from the window, and
after dressing passed out upon the street, and went to the
falls for a short walk and an appetite, and then went to
the Washington Hall restaurant, where she had quite frequently
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>taken her meals since she had incidentally
learned that Bristol was a retired Montreal banker, as
gossip had it now among the Spiritualists; and it was evident
that persons of that grade of recommendation were
of peculiar interest to Mrs. Winslow. For hours of dalliance,
the aristocratic though impecunious popinjay, Le
Compte, would more than answer; but when it came to a
matter of serious work, and when a new source of income
was to be sought, Mrs. Winslow, being a shrewd and able
professor of the art of fascination which secured her an
independent and elegant livelihood, in connection with
her ability to compel a large number of people to pay her
for guessing at what had befallen them and what might
befall them, she invariably sought gentlemen on the
shady side of life, with judgment and discretion, who knew
a good thing when they saw it, and who were both able
and willing to carry their bank accounts into their aged
knight-errantry.</p>

<p>Lyon was not a handsome man, but he had vast wealth.
His weazen face, his grizzly hair, his repulsive, tobacco-stained
mouth, were naught against him. His passion for
her had brought her thousands upon thousands of dollars&mdash;would
bring her, she hoped, as much more. Here was
Bristol. He was not handsome, he was not a Canadian
Adonis, he incessantly smoked a very ugly pipe fully as
old as himself. But he had some way got the reputation
of being "a retired Canadian banker" among these
people, and Mrs. Winslow's heart warmed towards him
the way it had towards a hundred others when she had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>
wanted them to walk into her parlor as the ancient spider
had desired of the fly.</p>

<p>So she had begun weaving a shining web of loving
looks, of tender glances, of dreamy sighs, and of graceful
manœuvres of a general character about the unsuspecting
Bristol, that resulted in pecuniary profit to the old maids,
who, nevertheless, with the quick instinct of three jealous
women of economical build and mature years, had
already begun to hate her as a rival, and pour into Bristol's
alert ears sad tales about the splendid charmer, all
of which were properly reported to me by the "retired
Montreal banker," who had suddenly found himself a prize
worthy to be sought for, and fought for, if necessary, by
four determined women, one of whom hungered for his
supposed wealth, and three of whom possessed the more
desperate, life-long hunger whose appeasing is worth a
severe struggle.</p>

<p>After her breakfast, which, unfortunately, had not given
her an opportunity for bestowing a graceful nod or a winning
smile upon Bristol, whom the old maids had furnished
a superb breakfast in his own apartment, Mrs. Winslow
returned to her rooms and seated herself at her windows,
where she read the morning paper for a little time. She
then disappeared from Fox's sight for a half-hour or so,
when, just as he was about leaving his watch at his window
he noticed her descend the stairs, and, after looking
cautiously about for a moment, deposit a card behind
her own sign, which was attached to the frame of the outer
doorway leading to her rooms. As soon as she had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>
retired, and before she could have returned to her windows,
Fox slipped down and out across the street, and
removing the card from its novel depository, saw written
upon it:</p>

<div class="blockquot">
<p>"Le Compte:&mdash;Will be at the Garden with carriage at
ten, prompt.</p>

<p class="ralign smcap">"Mrs. W."</p>
</div>

<p>Fox had no more than time to return the card to its
place when he saw the person to whom it was addressed
turn into St. Paul street from East Main. He accordingly
got back to his old post as rapidly as possible, and
watched the young Frenchman saunter along towards the
hallway as if carelessly taking his morning walk. He was
irreproachably dressed, as usual, and was daintily smoking
a cigarette with that inimitable grace with only which a
Frenchman or a Spaniard can smoke. After arriving at
the hallway, as if undecided whether he would go farther
up the street or not, he leaned carelessly against the sign,
and in a moment had deftly whipped the card out of its
hiding-place. He then started up the street saunteringly,
and when about a half-block distant, read the card, which
seemed to give him much pleasure, as he smilingly wrote
something upon it, and after walking a short distance,
turned suddenly and walked rapidly back, dexterously depositing
the card in its strange receptacle, without
scarcely varying his pace or direction, and quickly passed
on to Main street, turning down that thoroughfare.</p>

<p>Fox noticed that Mrs. Winslow had witnessed this incident
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>from her windows, and at the moment when her form
had disappeared, he swiftly stepped across the street and
read the reply, which ran thus:</p>

<div class="blockquot"><p>"Your announcement makes pleasure in your lover's
soul, and your name is saluted by the lips of</p>

<p class="ralign smcap">"Le Compte."</p>
</div>

<p>Fox had just time to slip into a tobacconist's for a cigar
when Mrs. Winslow came down stairs, took the card out
of its resting-place, and after going down the street for
some slight purchase, returned to her rooms and prepared
for the drive to Charlotte.</p>

<p>At half-past nine Mrs. Winslow's carriage arrived and
in a few minutes after she was leisurely riding down Main
street, and from thence out through State street and Lake
View Avenue towards the Port. As I had nothing to do
until Monday's interview with Le Compte, and time hung
heavily upon my hands, I had decided to make one of the
party.</p>

<p>I knew the direction Mrs. Winslow would take, and so
securing a position on the corner of Main and State
streets, I had but a little time to wait before I saw the
gay madam pass, and also noticed Fox at an opposite corner
evidently making sure of her direction; for, as soon
as he saw her carriage turn down State street, he immediately
started for the depot, from which a train left for
Charlotte at ten o'clock, so that he could be at that place,
under any circumstances, some time before the happy
and unsuspecting couple should have arrived.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p><p>At about train-time Fox bought a cigar and took a seat
in the smoking-car, while I purchased a cheap edition of
one of Dickens's stories and settled myself down in a
ladies' car.</p>

<p>The trip to Charlotte was soon made through a beautiful
country where the farmers were busy stacking their
grain, threshing, and, in some instances, turning the black
loam to the sun that it might early mellow for the next
year's seed-time, and in a half-hour we were at Charlotte,
where the beautiful lake is seen at one's feet, with its rippling
waves dotted here and there by a hundred dreamy
sails and lazy steamers from as many waiting ports.</p>

<p>Fox immediately made inquiries of the villagers where
he could find the road leading into Charlotte from Rochester,
and started out towards it from the depot at a brisk
walk, while I waited until he had got well under way,
when I took a short stroll among the warehouses and
shipping of the harbor, and then went to the only hotel of
any importance the place contained, where I knew Mrs.
Winslow and Le Compte would be likely to stop, and engaged
a room in the front part of the house, where I resumed
my story and waited, like Micawber, for "something
to turn up."</p>

<p>I had been engaged at my book but a short time when
I saw Fox come up the street towards the hotel at a
rapid pace, flushed and perspiring freely as from a very
long and rapid walk, and but a moment afterwards also
saw the dashing Rochester turnout whirling up to the
hotel.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p><p>The arrival at the hotel of the couple bore out the
truth of the statement of the little Dutchman, contained
in Fox's report of his trip to the half-way house, as the
habitués of the house seemed quite accustomed to their
presence and the employees stepped about nimbly, as
they generally do at hotels as a greeting to good customers,
and they generally do not when persons of common
appearance arrive.</p>

<p>As good luck would have it, after a few moments had
elapsed, "Mr. and Mrs. Jones, of Rochester," as Fox saw
they had registered, were ushered into a room adjoining
my own, and between which, as is quite common at hotels,
there was a door, which might be opened for the purpose
of throwing the rooms <i>en suite</i>, as occasion required.</p>

<p>Although I was prevented from seeing the couple, their
voices, which were both familiar to me, could not be mistaken;
and I could not restrain a smile as I listened to
the little Frenchman's voluble and peculiarly-constructed
expressions of endearment, and the coarser, but none the
less tender, responses of the virtuous Mrs. Winslow, whose
life had been shattered, heart smashed to atoms, and
good name defamed, by the tyrant man in the person of
the weak but wealthy Lyon, and to think how much
nearer I was to the quarry than Fox himself, who in this
instance was making noble efforts to bring down his game
without "flushing" it.</p>

<p>For the sake of the public whose servant I have been
for the last thirty years, I would blush to put on paper
what I know to have occurred in the adjoining room, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>
which only served to further convince me of the depths
of infamy to which she had sunk; and I will pass on to
those things only necessary to acquaint the reader with
my plan of operation to bring her into the public notoriety
and scorn which she had years before only too richly
deserved.</p>

<p>But a short time had elapsed after Mrs. Winslow and
Le Compte had been given their room when I heard Fox's
footsteps coming along the hall. He passed their room
slowly, evidently locating it, and after a few moments
stealthily returned and listened at the door. He then
stole away, but returned again with a bold, firm step, as
though conscious of being on legitimate business, walked
right up to the door and gave the knob a quick turn, as if
he had intended to at once walk into the room.</p>

<p>The door did not open, however, and Fox stepped
back as if surprised, saying: "Why, I can't be mistaken;
the register surely said Room 30!" while within there were
quick, though smothered exclamations of surprise, fright,
and rage of an unusually profane nature.</p>

<p>Fox immediately returned to the attack as if certain
that he was in the right, and knocked at the door sharply.</p>

<p>There was no response but the quick hustlings about
the room, from which I, as an attentive listener with my
ear close to the key-hole, learned that the inmates were
preparing for discovery.</p>

<p>Fox knocked again, this time louder and more persistently
than at first.</p>

<p>I now plainly heard Mrs. Winslow ordering Le Compte<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>
under the bed among the dust, bandboxes, and unmentionables,
at which he protested with innumerable "<i>Sacrés!</i>"
But she was relentless, and finally, seeing that he would
go no other way, took him up like a recalcitrant cur and
flung him under bodily.</p>

<p>Again Fox attacked the door, shook the knob furiously,
and knocked loud enough to raise the dead, following it
up with: "Say you?&mdash;Jones? Why in thunder don't
you open the door?"</p>

<p>At this Mrs. Winslow plucked up the courage of desperation,
and asked in a loud and injured voice, "Who's
there?"</p>

<p>"Why, me, of course; Barker, Jones's partner. I
want to see Jones!"</p>

<p>"What Jones do you want?" asked Mrs. Winslow, to
get time to think further what to do.</p>

<p>"Jones, of Rochester, of course," yelled Fox. "Two
ship-loads of spoiled grain's just come in; don't know
what to do with 'em."</p>

<p>"Sink 'em!" responded Mrs. Winslow, breathing
freer.</p>

<p>"Where's Jones?" persisted Fox, banging away at the
door again.</p>

<p>"There's no Jones here, you fool!" answered the
woman hotly.</p>

<p>"Yes there is, too," insisted Fox. "Landlord told me so."</p>

<p>"Well," parried the female, raising her voice again,
"Jones ain't in the wheat trade at all; he's a professor of
music; and besides that, he ain't in here, either."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, beg pardon, ma'am," said Fox apologetically,
"It isn't your Jones I want <em>this time</em>, then. Hope
I haven't disturbed you, madam," and he walked
away, having clinched the matter quite thoroughly
enough for any twelve honest and true men under the
sun.</p>

<p>Mrs. Winslow stuck her head out of the door, launched
a threat, coupled with a well-defined oath, against Fox,
who was leisurely strolling along the hall, to the effect that
he ought to be ashamed of himself for "insulting a
defenceless woman in that way, and that if he came there
again she would have him arrested." To which he cheerily
responded, "No offence meant, ma'am; 'fraid the wheat'd
spoil, ye see;" and as he went whistling down the stairs,
she slammed the door, locked it, drew the trembling Le
Compte from under the bed, and amid a chime of crockery
set him upon his feet again with a snap to it, and then
threw herself into a rocking-chair and burst into tears,
insisting that she was the most abused woman on the face
of earth, and that Le Compte, with his "<i>Sacrés!</i>"
and "<i>Diables!</i>" hadn't the sense of a moth or the muscle
of an oyster, or he would have followed the brute and
given him a sound beating!</p>

<p>Not desiring to be seen by Fox, I ordered my dinner
sent to my room, as did the unhappy couple in the
adjoining apartment, who seemed to be greatly put out
by the intrusion, and who were for an hour after speculating
as to the cause of the interruption, and as to
whether it was accidental or not.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p><p>"We mustn't come here any more, Le Compte," said
the woman dolefully.</p>

<p>"And for why, my angel precious?" anxiously asked
the man.</p>

<p>"Why, do you know," replied Mrs. Winslow with
earnestness, "I sometimes really believe I am being
watched!"</p>

<p>"No, that was impossible!" said Le Compte, with a
start.</p>

<p>"And sometimes," she continued, paying no attention
to him, "it seems as though I could not stand this terrible
keeping up appearances any longer."</p>

<p>"You should have pleasure in the appearance," responded
Le Compte insinuatingly, "it breaks him down
already. He is now like one weak infant."</p>

<p>"That's so, that's so," she answered quickly, in a tone
of vengeful joyousness. "I'll bring the old devil to my
feet yet. I'll crush him out and ruin his fortune, if it takes
me all my life. I'll get the biggest part of it, too; and
then, Le Compte, we'll get out of this cursed country and
enjoy ourselves the rest of our lives."</p>

<p>"Yes, in Paris, the magnificent, the beautiful, the
sublime! Then we will live in one heaven of love.
Oh, beautiful, beautiful!" cried the little Frenchman
excitedly.</p>

<p>"There, Le Compte," said his companion, suddenly
becoming practical again, "don't make a fool of yourself!
Take this bill and go down and get a bottle of
wine; and mind you, don't keep the change either."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p><p>As the train returned at two, and I had but little time
to reach it, as soon as Le Compte had come back with
the wine and they had become sufficiently noisy to admit
of it, I quietly left my room, paid my bill, went to the
train, avoiding Fox entirely, and, with him, was soon
again in Rochester, leaving the roystering couple at the
little hotel at Charlotte building their vain dreams and air-castles
about crushing out Lyon&mdash;which would have been
an easy matter if left to himself&mdash;their beautiful, magnificent,
and sublime Paris, and their "one heaven of love"
within it.</p>

<p>As soon as Fox stepped from the train I quietly
handed him a slip of paper directing him to make his
report to me at the Waverley House, where I was stopping
under an assumed name, which he assured me he
would do, without a word being spoken or even a look of
recognition being passed.</p>

<p>Although the public may not be aware of it, this is
an absolute necessity in detective service. Though I
employ hundreds of persons as detectives, preventive
police, and in clerical duties, at my different agencies, on
no occasion and under no circumstances is there ever on
the street, or in any public place whatever, the slightest
token by which the stranger might know that there had
ever been any previous communication between any of
my people.</p>

<p>On the next day, Sunday, Lyon called to see me at the
hotel and brought with him two notes from Le Compte&mdash;one
having been received late Saturday afternoon, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>
the other delivered at his house that morning&mdash;both imperatively
insisting that Lyon should come to his rooms
and leave that "untractable man" behind.</p>

<p>I complimented him extensively on his having refrained
from visiting the winsome little villain who
seemed determined to get Lyon within his power. He
solemnly pledged his word that he would have nothing
whatever to do with the man, and would bluff him in
every advance that he made; and in order to clinch it, I
read him choice extracts from Fox's report regarding the
Charlotte party of the day before, interspersing it with a
few of the still choicer items that had come under my
own observation.</p>

<p>"My God!" exclaimed Lyon, as I concluded, "are
they <em>all</em> that way?"</p>

<p>"Your experience and mine," I smilingly replied,
"would almost point to the fact that a very decided
majority of them are."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XIII.</h2>

<div class="chapdesc"><p>Mr. Pinkerton again interviews Le Compte.&mdash;And very much desires
to wring his Neck.&mdash;A Bargain and Sale.&mdash;Le Compte's Story.&mdash;"Little
by Little, Patience by Patience."&mdash;A Toronto Merchant in
Mrs. Winslow's Toils.&mdash;Detective Bristol, "the retired Banker," in
Clover.&mdash;Tabitha, Amanda, and Hannah individually and collectively
woo him.&mdash;Ancient Maidens full of Soul.&mdash;A Signal.</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">N</span>O jury in the land would render a verdict against a
man on the unsupported evidence of a woman
whose character was so vile as we had already found
Mrs. Winslow's to be; and I would have paid no further
attention to the little Frenchman, had I not suspected
from his expensive style of living, and from Mrs. Winslow's
injunctions to him regarding not swindling her in
so small a matter as a bottle of wine, that his necessities
and cupidity might cause him to make some tangible disclosure
regarding her, that would give us a clue to other
information against her further than that which Bangs
would probably secure in the West, as I never use detective
evidence when it can be avoided, and knew that
a perfect mountain of criminal transactions could be eventually
heaped up against her which could be secured from
reliable parties, who could have no other possible interest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>
in her downfall than a desire to promote the personal
good of society.</p>

<p>Le Compte did not desire to see me again, and had
made strenuous efforts to prevent it and secure a surreptitious
interview with Lyon instead. Failing in this, at
the last moment, I had received a very terse note from
him to the effect that he did not desire to transmit any
statement by mail, but would take it as an honor, etc., if
I would call at his place at ten o'clock, Monday morning,
which I did, finding the little fellow in a gorgeous dressing-gown,
freshly shaved, and in a neat and orderly state
generally.</p>

<p>"Well, my young friend," said I, "I suppose you
have decided to give me some information this morning."</p>

<p>"Do I get good pay?" he asked in response.</p>

<p>"You will get good pay if you have a good article for
sale," I replied.</p>

<p>"Humph!" he responded, with a soft shrug of his
delicate shoulders.</p>

<p>"Are you ready to make such a sale?" I asked.</p>

<p>"But where comes my money?" inquired Le Compte,
suspiciously.</p>

<p>"It is right here," I answered, slapping my pocket in
a hearty way.</p>

<p>"But suppose it shall stay there, then where is Le
Compte?" he persisted with a doleful look which was
irresistibly funny.</p>

<p>"It <em>will</em> stay there," I replied, "in case you attempt to
play any of your tricks, my little fellow."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p><p>"How shall I then know I am to be paid?"</p>

<p>"You will have to take my word for it."</p>

<p>"But I have not pleasure in your acquaintance; how
can I be sure?" he continued anxiously.</p>

<p>"Le Compte, swindler as you are, you <em>know</em> that I am
an honest man. This quibbling is utterly foolish and simple.
I am acting entirely for Mr. Lyon in this matter,
and should you write to him or call upon him a hundred
times, you would get nothing from him but a bluff. Here
are your two notes," I continued, producing them, "one
written Saturday, the other yesterday. The only response
you got to them was, silence&mdash;and this interview. I
thought we understood each other already."</p>

<p>I saw that he was still undecided about saying whatever
he might have to say, and tenacious of sustaining his
professional reputation as a clairvoyant. I might have
easily frightened him into submission by the slightest reference
to the occurrences of the previous day, but knew
that this would have the effect of putting Mrs. Winslow
on her guard, as she was already becoming suspicious and
anxious, and preferred getting at his communication in
the ordinary way. After he had sat musing for a time he
suddenly asked:</p>

<p>"How great will be my pay?"</p>

<p>"What do you think the information is worth?" I said.</p>

<p>He looked at me as if fixing a price in his mind that I
would stand, and replied:</p>

<p>"Certain, a thousand dollars."</p>

<p>"That is a good deal of money, Le Compte," I said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>
pleasantly. "I hardly think you can divulge a thousand
dollars' worth. But if you can give me reliable information
of a satisfactory character, I think I could pay you
three hundred dollars.</p>

<p>"Now?" he inquired, suddenly.</p>

<p>"Oh, no, oh, no," I replied as quickly; "no, sir, <em>not</em>
until we find the information you give is reliable."</p>

<p>This dampened the little fellow wonderfully, but he
finally said: "Well, the evidence is certain, but I must
offer it to you by clairvoyance," and he immediately
arose and began darkening the room as on the previous
interview, which act I interrupted by stepping to the window
he had just darkened, and jerking the curtain as high
as it would roll, opening the window, and flinging the
blinds open with a slam.</p>

<p>"You little villain!" I shouted, advancing upon him
threateningly, "I will wring your neck if you don't stop
this contemptible nonsense!" while he slunk into the
corner, like the mean coward that he was. I could
scarcely keep my hands off the little puppy; but recollecting
that I was there for quite another purpose, I
said:</p>

<p>"Le Compte, this is the last time I shall come here,
and it is the last time you will have an opportunity of
making a dollar out of any information you may possess.
Now, sir," I said, savagely, starting towards the door, "you
will give it to me, trusting entirely to my honor to pay
you for it, or you will never get a cent for it on earth."</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<a href="images/130-131-lg.jpg" class="noline">
<img src="images/130-131-sm.jpg" width="400" height="254" alt="" title="" />
<span class="caption"><br /><i>"You little villain!" I shouted, advancing upon him threateningly:&mdash;</i></span></a>
</div>

<p>The little fellow turned towards me imploringly, with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>
"Please don't go. My dear sir, you are so greatly abrupt.
We have no men like you in La Belle France."</p>

<p>"Heaven knows, I hope but few <em>like</em> you," I responded.
"Now, which is it, yes, or no? I will give you just thirty
seconds in which to answer," and I timed him, thoroughly
resolved to do as I had said.</p>

<p>Before the expiration of the time mentioned, Le
Compte sat down, and with a despairing shrug of the
shoulders, said "Yes."</p>

<p>I immediately returned, sat down in front of him, and
said, "Well, Le Compte, now go ahead with your story
like a man."</p>

<p>"What must it be like?" he asked innocently.</p>

<p>"What must it be like?" I repeated, aghast. "Why,
you don't intend to manufacture a story for me against
this woman, do you?"</p>

<p>"Oh, no, no, never. But I must know first how bad
it must be, when it is worth three hundred dollars, which
you call such great money?"</p>

<p>"Well," said I, all out of patience, "if you know of
any occasion when this woman has been with any man as
his wife, or his mistress, and can give names, dates, and
places, and under what circumstances, and this information
on examination proves so reliable that we can get
other witnesses besides yourself&mdash;persons of credibility
and reputation&mdash;to testify to it, I will pay you three hundred
dollars. Isn't that plain enough?"</p>

<p>"Will you put it to paper?"</p>

<p>"No, sir, you have my word for it, that's all."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p><p>Le Compte tapped the floor with his delicate foot a
moment, and I saw the impostor was in real misery. He
had a sort of affection for the woman, which she had more
than reciprocated. He could lean on the strong, daring
nature she possessed, and go to her with all his troubles
and disappointments and get help. She had promised
him that, as soon as she had mulcted Lyon of the hundred
thousand dollars, he should share it with her in his
own beautiful Paris. All his self-interest laid in and with
the woman; but need for money was pressing, and there
were a million other women as impressible to his charms
as she had been. Here was an opportunity to make a
few hundred dollars by betraying her; but in doing so he
still might not get the money, and she might at once discover
from what source the information had come, and
he knew enough about Mrs. Winslow to be sure that she
dared any mode of revenge that best suited her fancy,
and he had a wholesome fear of her. I could see that
all these things were flitting through his mind, as plainly
as the reader can see them upon this printed page, and
to some extent pitied his weakness and indecision.</p>

<p>"Or," said I encouragingly, "as you undoubtedly know
Mrs. Winslow intimately, and are very much in her company,
if you know of any occasion when she had, while
here in Rochester or in the vicinity, say Batavia, Syracuse,
or Port Charlotte, for instance, gone with some one
of her many favorites, and under an assumed name&mdash;Brown,
Jones, or anything of the kind&mdash;to a hotel where
they had been assigned a room, and had occupied it together
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>for several hours, and you could put us on track
of persons of reliability who would be willing to come into
court and swear to such facts&mdash;I presume there are many
persons who could and would with whom you are acquainted&mdash;I
would pay you the amount named at once."</p>

<p>This was cutting pretty close to a tender subject, and
before I had half finished my remarks he started, and
looked me in the face in a suspicious, apprehensive manner,
eyeing me closely until I had finished. But my manner
and looks betraying no knowledge on my part of any
such facts hinted at, he relapsed into a puzzled, nonplussed
look that was really ridiculous.</p>

<p>"No, no," he said slowly and cautiously. "I have no
such valuable evidence. That would be much more
worth than a thousand dollars&mdash;much more worth. But I
can do what you first say, and rest me on the honor
of your word."</p>

<p>"Go on, then," said I.</p>

<p>"Well, we shall go back almost a year. I met first Mrs.
Winslow at Port Charlotte, when she was from Canada
returning."</p>

<p>"Did she formerly live in Canada?" I asked.</p>

<p>"No, not for a great time; but has had much travel
and friends there. I first see her at Charlotte. I go
there to take a boat. She comes from the boat there.
Lyon meets her, and I think her his wife, he is so much
happy. I like her so much that I do not take the boat.
I follow her back to the city here, and find her beautiful
rooms, when I discover she is not Lyon's wife, but his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>
mistress; but I still have for her admiration, and one day
she comes to me for her future in clairvoyance."</p>

<p>"And then she became your mistress?" I inquired,
smiling at his earnestness.</p>

<p>"No, no, no&mdash;never!" he replied quickly, growing red
as a rose; "I became her <em>friend</em>!"</p>

<p>Le Compte did not know how near he came to expressing
the truth while endeavoring to avoid it, but continued:</p>

<p>"I became her friend, and we came to each other for
advice. She has great faith&mdash;great faith," repeated Le
Compte, with much emphasis on the expression, which
seemed to please him, "in my clairvoyance powers. I
give her much comfort. She gives me great confidence
of her affairs, and shows me how rich Lyon makes her.
I see her often&mdash;very often, at the Hall and here in my
apartments. She gives me much confidence of her affairs
still, and I am informed when she makes Canada some
visits. She goes much to Canada, and I ask her why?
She does not tell me, but laughs in my face, and shows
me much money, which she ever brings back. I shake
my finger at her so (illustrating), and say to her: 'You
cannot hide from Le Compte,' which she answers: 'No,
I will not. I go for money. See!'&mdash;when she would
shake many bills in my face&mdash;'I make him come down,
too!'"</p>

<p>"Did she give you the man's name?"</p>

<p>"I <em>got</em> it," continued Le Compte proudly, "with much
wine&mdash;<em>and</em> clairvoyance!"</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, confound your eternal clairvoyance!" said I.
"I want the facts."</p>

<p>"But I got facts <em>with</em> clairvoyance," persisted the imperturbable
Le Compte. "Little by little, patience by
patience, at the end I got confession from her&mdash;&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Which was?"&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>"Which was," continued Le Compte, taking his time,
"that Mrs. Winslow had got great power over a Toronto
merchant with much wealth and great family, by name
Devereaux."</p>

<p>"How long had she known him?"</p>

<p>"I know not that&mdash;five, four, three years, I will think."</p>

<p>"Did you ever see this Devereaux?"</p>

<p>"Oh, no, no&mdash;never; but it is all certain that I speak.
Here," continued Le Compte, stepping nimbly to a secretary
and producing a photograph, which he handed to
me, "here you will find the face of Devereaux. Many,
many times I have seen the color of his money."</p>

<p>"And does Mrs. Winslow visit Canada for the purpose
of meeting this man still?" I asked.</p>

<p>"Certain," he answered promptly; then, after a little
pause, as if doubtful of the propriety of what he was
about to say, but finally resolving to earn his money, if
possible, "and she shall go there once more in the next
week."</p>

<p>I began to think that the little Frenchman had really a
good article for sale, and made full memoranda of all the
main points. I asked him some further questions, the answers
to which showed conclusively that Mrs. Winslow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>
had made a full confidant of him concerning the Canadian
affair, at least; that she had secured a vast amount
of money from Devereaux at the same time that Lyon
was breaking her heart; and that, whether Devereaux
was fated to go through the same final experience as Lyon,
or not, that he had undergone and was undergoing the
same preliminary experience.</p>

<p>At the close of the interview I informed Le Compte
that his information was quite satisfactory, and that it only
remained for me to prove its correctness in order to permit
the payment of the money, which, however, should
necessarily be on the additional condition that he at once
secured for us information as to the date on which the
madam was to make her profitable little pleasure-trip to
Toronto.</p>

<p>This he agreed to do, and I left him; not, however,
until he had anxiously requested to know more about me,
and where and when he was to receive his money. I told
him that I was a travelling man; that I had no permanent
residence, was here and there all over the country; but
that the moment we ascertained the truth of his statements,
which would be very soon, he should be compensated.</p>

<p>I communicated to Lyon the facts elicited during this
interview, which completely overwhelmed him with the
perfidy of human nature in general, and woman in particular;
but gave him considerable encouragement concerning
the progress of our work; and after directing
Bristol, through the post, to continue playing the <i>rôle</i> of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>
the banker, and to keep himself in preparation for telegraphic
instructions, returned to New York.</p>

<p>All this time Bristol was in clover. The three old
maids, Tabitha, Amanda, and Hannah, had looked him
over and saw that he was a good man to tie to. Here
was a man, they agreed, who had come in among them a
perfect stranger, and yet so possessed was he of a frank,
winsome way, and such a reliable, honorable demeanor
had he exhibited towards them, three lone and defenceless
women as they were, that they had instinctively felt that
they could trust him; nay, even more, they were sure
that they could lean upon him, as it were; take him into
their confidence; share their joys with him, rely on him
to sympathize with them in all their sorrows&mdash;in fact,
make of him a sort of an affectionate Handy Andy&mdash;a
good-natured and attractive attaché to their affections,
and a profitable sign-post to their business.</p>

<p>Neither had any man ever before received such signs
and tokens of a deep-seated and ineradicable affection.</p>

<p>Every morning he was awakened from his virtuous
slumbers by the delicious music of a bird training organ,
which was wound in turn by the maidens and set inside
his door, where, "in linked sweetness long drawn out," it
galloped over the harmonies with: "Then you'll remember me,"
"Don't be angry with me, Darling," "Who will
care for Mother Now?" "Bonnie Charlie's Noo Awa',"
"Annie Laurie," and like tender airs, until the poor man
cursed the Three Graces of Washington Hall restaurant,
and the detective service, threadbare.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p><p>After this delicious reminder of languishing love he was
served with a breakfast fit for a king, at which Tabitha,
Amanda, and Hannah in turn presided, and which was
always graced by a large bouquet of flowers whose language
and fragrance only breathed of love.</p>

<p>On these occasions the conversation never failed to
turn upon Bristol's merits, the old maids' loneliness, and
the superiority of women without physical beauties, but
full of soul, over those more fortunate in flesh but wanting
in spirituality. This was an advertisement for their
own establishment, and a drive at Mrs. Winslow; and
Bristol always acknowledged the force of the argument.</p>

<p>Whenever Mrs. Winslow took a meal at the restaurant,
which had now become a frequent occurrence, just so
certain was Bristol's corresponding meal served in the
little snuggery, where, however busy they might be, one
of the ancient ladies kept him good company and quickened
his digestion with sparkling humor and witty jest,
such only as can course through the flowery avenues of
an aged spinster's mind, made fresh and blooming by the
wild fancy of the second childhood of love's young
dream; and at night, when the busy day was over and the
vulgar public shut out by the well-bolted front door, the
little snuggery always held the same wise old company,
where Bristol, ripe in age and experience, passed an hour
with the ladies over tea and sweetmeats, or wine and
waffles, surrounded by the thrilled and blushing trio, who,
preparatory to retiring, discovered to him as many of
their combined charms as modesty would allow, and in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>
their tender hearts built plans for the future when they
would bodily possess Bristol&mdash;at least one of them, if the
laws of society did prevent his making a sort of blessed
trinity of himself for their benefit.</p>

<p>This course of procedure angered Mrs. Winslow. <em>Her</em>
heart also yearned for the retired banker, and when she
saw how securely he was being kept from her grasp by
the wily old maids, she immediately began preparing
a plan the execution of which would foil them, and
eventually give her the coveted game all to herself. To
this end she walked to and fro past the restaurant, and
finally attracted the attention of Bristol while the old
ladies were busily engaged elsewhere, and motioned to
him in so imperative a way and with such earnestness,
that he slipped out of the place, and at a careful distance
followed her in the direction of the Falls Field Garden,
where lovers often met and where there was no danger of
interruption.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XIV.</h2>

<div class="chapdesc"><p>Mr. Bangs on the Trail in the West.&mdash;Terre Haute and its Spiritualists.&mdash;Mrs.
Deck's Boarding-house.&mdash;The Nettleton Family broken up.&mdash;Back
at the Michigan Exchange.&mdash;Mother Blake's Recital.&mdash;Through
Chicago to Wisconsin.&mdash;A disheartening Story.&mdash;The
practical result of Spiritualism.</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">S</span>UPERINTENDENT BANGS arrived at Terre
Haute in good time, and found himself in one of
the greatest centres of Spiritualism in the world.</p>

<p>The very air seemed charged and surcharged with the
permeating power. People watching incoming trains
had a listless, far-away look, as though watching for the
dim spirits which were constantly expected from the other
land, but which never came. The clamorous cabmen
raised their sing-song voices as if only expecting, though
more than desiring, only shadowy freight. The regular
loiterers had long hair, cadaverous faces, and large, lustrous
eyes, and where females appeared, they were generally
in pinched faces, flowing hair, long pantaloons and
short gowns, as if ready for a grand Amazon-march upon
the gullible public.</p>

<p>On the way to the hotel every other stairway held the
sign of one or more clairvoyants, mediums, or astrologists,
and every manner of business seemed to have the ghostly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>
trail upon it. The pedestrians upon the streets, the
men at their counters, the workmen at their trades, the
women at their various employments, the common laborers
at their most menial toil, each and every, from the
highest to the lowest, seemed to have a weary, listless air,
as if constant wrestling with communicating spirits healthier
and more robust than themselves, had left a chronic
exhaustion upon and with them.</p>

<p>At the hotel the register was thin and ghostly, the office
was deserted and dreary, the meals were served in a listless,
dreamy way, as if the guests were ghosts and the
waiters not so good. In fact, the whole place and everything
in it was tinctured with the common craziness, and
gave the healthy, wide-awake stranger the impression of
having suddenly come upon a community of mild lunatics,
who were quite happy in the conviction that they were
directing the affairs of both earth and heaven, and establishing
pleasant, intramural relations between their chosen
Hoosier City and the beautiful City beyond the River; all
of which would be very pleasant and profitable if anybody
had ever come back from the undiscovered country to
give us its geographical outlines, define its limits, or
explain any profit that has accrued from becoming a
monomaniac on a subject that has no relation whatever
to the common needs and duties of life, and has never
been known to give to the world or its society a single
healthful, helpful nature or intellect.</p>

<p>Mr. Bangs was neither pleased with the hotel, or able
to get much information while there, and consequently<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>
changed his quarters to Mrs. Deck's boarding-house, a
long, rambling brick building, that at one time had been
a fine residence after the Southern style. It was covered
with moss and vines, and had a snug, pleasant appearance,
while everything about the house had an air of quaint,
attractive restfulness. Every person who has ever been
in Terre Haute for a few days' stay, as Bangs was, will
remember the genial old soul who presided over the destinies
of this particular boarding-house&mdash;the fat, garrulous,
whimpering, but kind-hearted Mrs. Deck; her charming
daughter, the blooming Belle Ruggles, by a former and
more fortunate marriage, with her fair face and wealth of
golden hair, flitting about the house&mdash;which was also the
abode of spirits, mysterious materializations and unexplainable
rappings&mdash;like a good, sensible spirit that <em>she</em>
was, and letting her good sense and kind ways into the
cobwebbed rooms and dark places, like an ever-changing
though constant flood of sunlight; and "Old Deck," as the
boys called him, who believed in another kind of spirits
still, and, when opportunity offered, became so full of
them that he held a grand and extended "seance" on his
own account.</p>

<p>People not only sought Mrs. Deck for good board, but
for reliable neighborhood gossip; and Mr. Bangs, learning
of her reputation as a repository of news as well as a liberal
dispenser of creature comforts, changed his quarters
from the hotel to her place, and found from a few days in
her company that she was a sort of historian, having at
her tongue's end numberless incidents connected with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>
the growth of the city and the family relations of every
class of people in or near it.</p>

<p>He learned from her where the Hosfords had lived,
but could get nothing particular regarding the woman
herself, as Mrs. Deck had never seen her, and only knew
of her by reputation, which she was sure had been good.</p>

<p>Mr. Bangs at once went into the country neighborhood
where the Hosfords had lived, and found that they had
removed to some point in Wisconsin, near Sheboygan
Falls, the neighbors had heard, but he could not find that
there had been a single trace of trouble at Terre Haute.
All those who had known them spoke of them both in the
highest terms. They had both been staunch members of
the Methodist Church, and though plain, quiet farmers,
had been considered prominent people in the neighborhood.</p>

<p>Hosford was remembered as a slow-going, easy-conditioned,
good-natured fellow, but as honest as the day was
long; and no one had ever known aught against his wife,
save that some of the old gossips thought that she had
brought too much jewelry and fine clothing into the
neighborhood with her. This, however, she had judiciously
kept out of sight as much as possible, and, as far
as could be learned, had led in every respect an exemplary
life.</p>

<p>From this point Mr. Bangs proceeded to Kalamazoo.
The Nettleton family were gone, no one knew where;
but here he was told of the escapade to Detroit of Lilly
Nettleton years before, enough of which had floated back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>
to her native place&mdash;coupled with the old people's later
sorrows, which were largely dilated upon&mdash;to account for
the breaking up of the family and its members being scattered
broadcast.</p>

<p>Accidentally at Kalamazoo, in conversation with the
clerk at the Kalamazoo House, who had formerly been
employed at Detroit, and who was "up to snuff," as he
termed it, Bangs learned of Mother Blake, who had informed
the clerk of Bland's unfortunate experience with
one Lilly Mercer. He also got from the clerk a description
of Mother Blake sufficiently comprehensive to enable
him to find her if she were still at Detroit, where he at
once proceeded.</p>

<p>On arriving in that city he went to the Michigan Exchange
Hotel, and, through the courtesy of the proprietors,
was allowed to look up the records of the house.</p>

<p>It was fifteen years previous that the man who said he
was "from Bland" met Lilly Nettleton at the depot and
had taken her to the Michigan Exchange to meet the
reverend circuit-rider; but after he had got at the dusty
records he found on the register, evidently in the handwriting
of a clerk: "Lilly Mercer, Buffalo, Room 34,"
under date of August 15, 1856, and also the names of
"R. J. Hosford, Terre Haute, Room 98," and "Lilly
Nettleton, Kalamazoo, Room 34," in a cramped and almost
illegible hand under date of November 28th of the
same year; and on the next day's page, in the same
hand: "R. J. Hosford and wife, Terre Haute, Room 34."</p>

<p>The next step was to hunt up Mother Blake, which was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>
not a very hard matter, as women of her character generally
run in the same noisome rut, until they are swept
from the great highway with other pestilences of life, and
pass from bitter existence and infamous memory; and
after one or two evenings running about among the
<i>demi-monde</i> he found the woman&mdash;quite an old lady now,
but nearly as well-kept and quite as jolly as ever, presiding
over a group of soiled divinities at a neat retreat on
Griswold Street.</p>

<p>Through the purchase of a vile bottle of wine the old
lady's lips were opened, and her tongue began a perfect
gallop about Bland and Lilly Mercer.</p>

<p>She gave the latter the reputation of being one of the
shrewdest women she had ever met, and laughed until the
tears came into her eyes over the way in which she had
"played it" on Bland, who had picked her up for a fool,
and had himself been terribly sold. Then she launched
into vituperations towards the young minister, who had accused
her of "standing in" with the girl in the robbery,
when she had been as badly fooled as himself. Whatever
she had been and was, she said, there wasn't a dishonest
hair in her head; which assertion Bangs had reason to
believe to be literally true, as he noticed that she wore a
wig.</p>

<p>She then in great glee told him how she had "got
even" with Bland by "giving him away" to the papers,
which had soon taken the feathers out of <em>his</em> cap, she remarked
with much satisfaction, broken his mother's heart,
who died and willed all her property to the good cause of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>
furnishing the heathen with an occasional fat missionary
steak, and finally drove Bland out of Detroit, when he
had gone to some Eastern city and, under another name,
with his fine manners, airy ways, and good clothes, was
playing it fine on some old Spiritualist millionaire out
our way.</p>

<p>When the vision of the magnificent Harcout&mdash;which was
almost a constant one, as he rushed into my office on the
slightest pretext whatever, big with his own importance
and unusually full of enthusiasm over "our case"&mdash;flitted
before my eyes, it gave to me additional romance
in the work, in the sense that here, after many
years, the man whom Mrs. Winslow in her early career
had so magnificently duped, had unconsciously become
one of her most relentless pursuers.</p>

<p>But it was a matter for speculation whether Harcout
knew her to be the person who had so neatly taken him
in, or whether he had risen to this condition of fervor in
his work merely to impress Lyon with his useful friendship.
I inclined to the latter opinion, however, as I was
satisfied that if he had known with whom he was dealing
he would have given up all expectations of continued favor
and patronage from Lyon, and left Rochester as hastily
as he had, as Bland, departed from Detroit.</p>

<p>Bangs also asked her if she had ever seen Lilly Mercer
since that time.</p>

<p>Of course she had seen her, just at the close of the
war. One day as she was crossing the river in the ferry,
coming back from Windsor, she had met her face to face.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>
Mother Blake said that she seemed wonderfully glad to
meet her, and wanted to borrow some money, which she
had refused. She then gave her her card, upon which she
was called some Madam or other, a clairvoyant, and she
had some shabby rooms on Wisconsin Street, near the
theatres. She was still young and pretty, Mother Blake
said, and she easily persuaded her to come and live with
her, which she did, "and," continued the old woman,
with a withering look at the girls, "low down as she was,
she made more money in a day than any half-dozen
women I ever had." The old lady further said that she
had only remained with her long enough to get some fine
clothing and money together, when she started for the
East.</p>

<p>She had never seen her since, but she had heard that
she had several times passed through the city towards
Chicago, always returning to the East, however, and also
always richly dressed, and having every appearance of
living in clover. "Let her alone to get along," concluded
the old lady; "she'll live like a queen where another, a
million times better than she, would starve."</p>

<p>From Detroit, Bangs proceeded to Chicago, and from
thence to Sheboygan Falls, Wisconsin, where it required
but a few minutes' inquiries to put him on track of the
Hosfords.</p>

<p>Hosford had come there from Terre Haute several
years ago, bought a fine farm a few miles out, and had, as
far as could be ascertained, lived a comfortable sort of life
for about a year, when trouble began.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p><p>Mrs. Hosford, from the good member of society which
she was supposed to be, or really had been, suddenly embraced
Spiritualism, and began running about the country
with any old vagabond tramp of this kind that came
along; and from the hard-working, economical woman she
had been, she had become a spendthrift, a drunkard, and
a prostitute. Hosford had moved away, and after considerable
time and inquiry, it was ascertained that he had
gone to Oskaloosa, in Iowa, determined to get away from
old associations as far as possible, and had taken their
three children with him, which she had vainly endeavored
to secure.</p>

<p>Bangs spent several days here in hunting up evidence.
There was plenty of it&mdash;mountains of it. Merchants and
other business men of the town would button-hole him,
take him into some retired place and tell him how this
man had been caught <i>in flagrante delicto</i> with Mrs. Hosford,
how that man had confessed to having been caught
in her toils, and how some other person had been made a
suspicious person in the society of the place, through
some peccadillo with the dashing <i>Madam</i>.</p>

<p>All these persons referred to told of all the other persons
who had divulged their weaknesses, until it seemed
to Mr. Bangs, after remaining a few days in the vicinity,
that the entire male portion of the community were implicated.
But securing promises of depositions was quite
another thing. Mr. A. was a married man, belonged to
the church, had extensive business relations, and, while
he would like to assist in the noble effort to show up the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>
infamous woman, he really could not, you see, place himself
in so delicate a position.</p>

<p>Mr. B. was not a member of any church, but had the
reputation of a high order of morality. While he could
not but acknowledge the justice of the request, and hoped
that Mr. Bangs would have no trouble in securing all the
evidence he needed, which would be a very easy matter,
still he did not see how he could consistently compromise
himself by going on record as a common adulterer.</p>

<p>Mr. C. was neither a churchman, nor did he claim a
high order of morality; but if he had good luck, he would
in the spring marry a very pretty girl of the village, and
if she should ascertain that he had previously been so
generous with his affections in another direction, he was
satisfied that his dream of future bliss would be dissolved
in thin air at once.</p>

<p>And so on through the entire village directory. There
were pointed out scores of persons who had the knowledge
desired, were all willing to help him secure <em>some other
person</em> for sacrifice, and all equally enthusiastically hoped
that her suit against Lyon would end in an ignominious
failure; but declined, with thanks, the proud honor of exposing
their own weaknesses, for even the extreme honor
of assisting in her downfall.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XV.</h2>

<div class="chapdesc"><p>A Chicago Divorce "Shyster."&mdash;Hosford found.&mdash;His pathetic Narrative.&mdash;More
Facts.</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">M</span>R. BANGS was in no hurry to leave Sheboygan
Falls, as he found that he was in a fruitful field
for information, and he continued garnering it in and
stacking it away industriously.</p>

<p>It appeared that Hosford's wife, not content with disgracing
his name, had soon developed her old and never-satisfied
greed for money and any sort of power that might
be wielded mercilessly; and it was evident that she had
money, for she immediately began dressing with much elegance
and travelling about the country extensively. The
probability was that she had still retained the money
stolen from Bland, and had also, during her years of
economy, carefully added to it until she had secured a
large sum, as she had occasion to use a good deal of
money in a certain transaction, which quite thoroughly
illustrated her unprincipled and revengeful character.</p>

<p>When Hosford had removed from Indiana to Wisconsin,
he had purchased a larger and a finer farm, and had
been obliged to give a mortgage upon it for several thousand
dollars, to be used in making necessary improvements.
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>This had been paid off with the exception of
about three thousand dollars, which amount, as soon as
Mrs. Hosford had begun making it lively for her husband,
and had left him for the purpose of wedding Spiritualism
and all that the term implies, she immediately produced
and bought up the mortgage, placing it in ex-Senator
Carpenter's hands for foreclosure; but poor Hosford,
struggling under his heavy load of desertion, disgrace and
persecution, managed to raise the money and take it
up, thus preventing the villainous woman from turning
him out of his own home, which she had deserted and
desecrated.</p>

<p>This had proven too much for even the patient Hosford
to endure, and he had set about getting a divorce.
But this was a harder thing to do than he had anticipated.
Although he was in possession of nearly as much information
as Bangs had secured, it was impossible to obtain
definite evidence against her. Her terrible temper, her
unscrupulousness, her unbounded and almost devilish
shrewdness, and the swift and sudden principle of revenge
that seemed only equalled by her greed for money,
compelled thorough awe and fear among those from whom
Hosford had expected assistance, and the result was he
did not get it, and he was obliged to let the suit for
divorce go by default. After this every petty annoyance
that could occur to the woman's mind was visited on him.
She would write him threatening letters; forward him express
packages of a nature to both humiliate him and
cause him fear; run him in debt at every place where she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>
could force, or "confidence," merchants into trusting her;
hire a carriage and secure some male companion as vile
as she, with whom she would proceed to her old home,
and in the presence of her agonized husband and helpless,
innocent children, threaten him with every conceivable
form of punishment, including death, and engage in
profanity and drunken orgies that would have disgraced
the lowest brothel in the land.</p>

<p>Mr. Bangs learned that after this sort of procedure for
a considerable period, she suddenly disappeared. Hosford
took this opportunity to dispose of his farm and
remove with his motherless family to Iowa. Mr. Bangs
could not learn at Sheboygan what the woman's history
had been during that period, but vague rumors had
floated back to the place that she had become an army-follower,
which was quite probable; but at the close of
the war she had assumed the <i>rôle</i> of an abandoned adventuress,
and had wandered about the Pacific Slope until
she had made too extensive an acquaintance for her
safety in that section, and from thence had wandered
through the country towards the East, seeking for any
kind of prey; and being hunted from place to place,
under countless <i>aliases</i>, until she had in a measure
retrieved herself, as far as money matters were concerned,
and being careful of herself physically, had regained her
good looks which her former terrible dissipation had
almost destroyed, and had eventually so insinuated herself
into the affections of a rich somebody that she had been
furnished money with which to secure a divorce from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>
Hosford, which had been granted in Chicago about a
year and a half previous; when she had come on to
Sheboygan Falls and while there made her boasts that she
would soon marry one of the richest men in New York
State, as soon as his wife died, which wouldn't be very
long she had hoped and believed. Besides this, the
rumors went, she had failed to marry that richest somebody
in New York State, and papers had been seen containing
an account of the woman and Lyon, her suit
against him, and the fact, which particularly interested
her old neighbors, that she had engaged no lawyer whatever,
but had drawn and filed the bill of complaint herself.</p>

<p>In fact, the entire community were in a state of great
excitement over the woman who was also creating much
excitement in the East, and each person had his or her
story to tell of some striking peculiarity or previous
adventure of the madam's, and it required a great
amount of sifting and careful work for Mr. Bangs to
secure what he came for.</p>

<p>After a few days, however, he had worked so judiciously
that he had got pledges from several responsible
citizens that they would give their depositions as to her
general character and reputation for chastity, or rather,
want of it, whenever a commission should be forwarded
to a certain lawyer of the city whom he engaged to take
them.</p>

<p>From here he at once proceeded to Iowa, only stopping
at Chicago long enough to secure a transcript of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>
divorce which had been granted in that city so noted for
divorces, that one shyster alone secured seven hundred
and seventy-seven of these desirable instruments from the
period between the great fire and the close of the year
1875, from whence he immediately proceeded to Oskaloosa,
where he soon became acquainted with parties who
had known the woman, though under as many different
<i>aliases</i> as she had visited cities of that State.</p>

<p>She had invariably advertised herself as a medium and
female physician, and had swindled every one with whom
she had come in contact, from the editor to errand-boy,
from one end of the State to the other, and had gained
even a worse reputation there than in Wisconsin. He
ascertained that Hosford was not living at Oskaloosa, and
before going through the same experience in listening to
countless tales of the woman's depravity as he had in
Wisconsin, he decided to proceed to his place, which was
near Monroe, twenty-nine miles distant. He procured a
conveyance and drove out to Hosford's farm, arriving at
the place about dusk, where, after he had stated his business,
he was invited to remain over night, and made comfortable.</p>

<p>Although a farmer, Hosford had everything cozy and
pleasant about him, had married into a very respectable
family, and had secured a most agreeable wife, who was
caring for his children&mdash;two bright girls and a boy, from
twelve to fifteen years of age&mdash;with almost the tenderness
and affection of an own mother. After supper Hosford
sent his family into another part of the house, and expressed
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>himself as ready to give any information in his
power.</p>

<p>He had not yet heard of the suit against Lyon, and
when Mr. Bangs told him, he seemed astonished beyond
expression, and after a little time said that he had often
tried to think of some Satanic scheme that the woman
<em>would not</em> dare to undertake if it occurred to her, but he
had failed to imagine any. But with the record, especially
for personal purity, behind her that Mrs. Winslow possessed,
he could not but be particularly startled and surprised
at her supreme self-possession and audacity. After
a little further desultory conversation, Mr. Bangs told him
that the Agency had all the necessary information regarding
their early career, and of their subsequent history up
to the time when they left Terre Haute, and probably a
great deal after that time, and asked Hosford if he would
be willing to go over the whole matter, giving the outlines
of their troubles, what brought them about, and what had
been their result.</p>

<p>He was the same old Dick Hosford&mdash;abrupt, kind,
generous, with perhaps some of the old "forty-niner"
roughness worn off and a toning-down of his whole nature,
that his keen sorrows had given him; but he was
quite as impulsively reckless, and just as impulsively tender,
and he began his story in a kind of weary way, that,
to one knowing his history, was really sad and touching.</p>

<p>"Well, sir," said Hosford, "I knew the gal had been
doing wrong at Detroit, but for all these hard years in
Californy I had been working, savin', and goin' through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>
danger with the purty pictur ahead that the bright girl I
had left by the river would one day make me a happy
home. I worked like a nigger, and it was sometimes up
and sometimes down with me out thar&mdash;mostly down,
though. But I struck a good lead one day, and worked
close till it panned dry. I didn't have much aside some
of them fellows out thar; but instead of runnin' it down
my throat, givin' it to cut-throat gamblers, or flingin' it
away on vile women, I started full chisel for the States.
I come to Terre Haute, as you know, and spent nearly
all my dust buyin' a little farm. Then I started fur Nettleton's,
whar I expected heaven&mdash;but found hell!</p>

<p>"It bust me all up like, and I wandered about the old
place jest as though I had went to sleep happy and waked
up in a big grave that I couldn't get out of. The old
folks themselves wasn't any more cut up than me; but I
thought as how I wasn't doin' anything to help matters,
'n only making <em>them</em> more trouble. So I thought and
thought what to do, and finally made up to go a-huntin'
her, 'n told the old folks I wouldn't come back 'thout her.</p>

<p>"It all come over me then what she was doing; but I
only thought to get her back for the old folks' sake.
Well, sir, I went to Chicago, and hung around that doggoned
city fur a week 'r two; but no Lil. Then I come
back, lookin' everywhere, askin' everybody, an' peerin'
into every place; but no Lil. Finally, I got to Detroit,
and I went into every one of those places where I feared
she <em>might</em> be; but no Lil. Do you know where I found
her?"</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p><p>Mr. Bangs told him he did, and how.</p>

<p>"Well, sir," continued Hosford, "I was utterly discouraged,
'n was goin' to go back and sell the place, and
get away from the country altogether; but when I saw
her all so rosy, fixed up so gay, and got to be such a
grand sort of a woman, I just caved in altogether and
wanted her for myself more 'n ever. I thought she had a
good heart, and that I loved her enough to always be kind
to her&mdash;as God knows I was&mdash;and thought <em>that</em> might
keep her right. I never asked her a question, 'n wouldn't
let the old folks. Everybody makes mistakes, ye know,
and it kind of makes people wild to let 'em know <em>you</em>
know it, and to badger 'em with questions. Well, she had
lots of good sense, and took off her finery before we got
to the old folks', who were 'most crazy with joy that we had
come back together as man and wife. We stayed at Nettleton's
a few days, then went direct to Terre Haute. I
don't believe a man ever had a better wife 'n she was
to me while we lived there. We never mentioned the old
times, and were very happy, as the children kept comin'
along. The silks and jewels she got at Detroit were all
put away, 'n I never saw 'em, till one day I come home
unexpected and found the children shut out in the yard,
and my wife afore the lookin'-glass, all rigged out in her
old finery, an' lookin' herself over and over, while countin'
a big pile of money that I had never seen before. I got a
good look at her, but went whistlin' about the house for
a long time, so as to let on that I didn't see her, and to
give her time to get her old clothes on agin.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p><p>"It seemed as if right there and then the clouds begun
hangin' over the house. I didn't say a word about it, and
made everything as cheery as I could; but begun tryin'
to think what had set her goin', and after a few days found
that she had been attendin' some of those Spiritual meetings
down to town, and one of the Doctors come up to
our place and stayed a few days, representin' himself as a
good Methodist.</p>

<p>"I knew it wouldn't do to stay there any longer, an' so
we moved to Wisconsin, I makin' her think it was healthier
'n where they had no ager. Well, sir, after we got there
everything was pleasant and happy agi'n till the Spiritualists
begun overrunnin' that country too, and she commenced
her tantrums at once. I didn't oppose her goin'
to them meetin's, but told her I hoped she wouldn't get
mixed up with 'em too much; but 'twas no use. The
devil had come into the house in that shape, and though
I prayed hard that it might leave, it got worse and
worse, till the children were 'most crazy with fright and
sorrow. I didn't know what to do. She run me in
debt, slandered me, disgraced me. She would not only
run about the country with those terrible people, but she
took to her old life, which was worse than everything else.
I tried every way to reform her; but she was bound to
go her vile way, and I could stand it no longer.</p>

<p>"You know the rest up there. After she had been
gone some time and had got the divorce in Chicago, I
come here with the children, to try and get away from it
all. You have seen my wife. She ain't a purty woman.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>
She is pure and good though, and I prayed to God that
the shadder would never come here. But 'twasn't any
use. It seemed as though my prayin' never helped things
much! We hadn't more 'n got settled here, when I heard
of her travellin' through the country&mdash;you know how.
Some way she found me out here, and I haven't had much
peace since.</p>

<p>"One time she came here and left a trunk full of nice
silk dresses and things. After a time, wife and I looked
into it and found over two hundred keys of all kinds, besides
pistols and knives. She came and took it away
soon after, accusin' us of stealin' some of her things, and
threatened to have us arrested. A few months afterwards
she went up to Newton, the county-seat, and swore out
a warrant for our arrest on the charge of assault and
battery, and got subpœnas out for all the folks across the
way. The Sheriff came down here to serve his warrant
and subpœnas, and at Monroe learned something about
the woman, so that by the time he got here and talked it
over with us, I come to the conclusion she wanted to get
us away and then steal the children; so we took them all
along, left one of the neighbors to take care of the house,
and went to Newton to stand trial. Sure enough, she
didn't appear agin' us, but did come here in a carriage
fur the children, awful drunk, and come near shootin' the
man that was taking care of the place!"</p>

<p>Bangs here asked Hosford whether he had ever seen
her since or had heard from her.</p>

<p>"I have seen her but once," he replied. "But I have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>
heerd about her doin's, time and time again. She come
here one day in a carriage, dressed fit to kill; and the first
I see, she was tryin' to get the children into the carriage
with her. I ordered them to come in, when, with an oath,
she put her hand to her bosom as if to draw a pistol.</p>

<p>"I got mad at this, and told her that if she had come to
that agin, <em>I'd</em> have a hand in too; and as soon as I turned
into the house as if to get a pistol&mdash;I only had an old
rusty one with a broken lock, but had an idea that I
could some way use it&mdash;she blazed away at me, the ball
going through the front door and driving the splinters into
my clothes. As she didn't know whether she had hit me
or not, she drove away at full gallop, and I've never sot
eyes on her since."</p>

<p>The poor fellow seemed to say this with an inexpressible
sense of satisfaction and relief. He had had more
than his share of her general depravity forced upon him,
and the respite from it, though short, was very dear to him.</p>

<p>Bangs got from Hosford the names of parties in contiguous
towns who could give him definite information
about Mrs. Winslow, while he offered to come to Rochester
himself, if his presence was required; and after a
good night's rest and an early breakfast, Mr. Bangs returned
to Monroe. After a few days' travel and inquiry
he secured a thousand times more information than necessary
to compel the retiracy of the splendid Mrs. Winslow
from her then public and profitable field of operations,
after which he returned to New York, well satisfied with
the result of his by no means pleasant labors.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XVI.</h2>

<div class="chapdesc"><p>Mrs. Winslow's Signal answered.&mdash;She endeavors to win Bristol, and
shows that they are "Affinities."&mdash;Detective Fox mystified.&mdash;An
Evening with the One fair Woman.&mdash;Closer Intimacies.&mdash;A Journey
proposed.&mdash;Detective Bristol as a Lover.</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">B</span>ACK in the streets of Rochester, Bristol followed
Mrs. Winslow with much wonderment and some
anxiety as to the result, not sure as to whether any of the
three lovely women had noticed his leaving at the call of
their hated rival, and cogitating what the woman might
want with him.</p>

<p>They soon arrived at the Garden, the woman frequently
looking back to assure herself that the retired banker
was following her, and finally passed into the Fields and
took a booth, where she ordered a bottle of wine, which
gave her right to its occupancy for an indefinite period;
and as soon as Bristol sauntered in, she signalled him to
join her, which he did with great apparent hesitation and
diffidence, and the general appearance of a man guilty of
almost his first wrong intent, but yet with strong resolution
to not let it get the better of him.</p>

<p>She did not remove the delicate lace veil from her face,
and it blended the pretty flush which the exercise had
heightened with her naturally clear complexion in a most<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>
artistic way, and toned the light in her great gray eyes into
a languid lustre, very thrilling to behold when one
knows there is a clean life behind such beauty, but as
dangerous when transformed into a winning mask covering
the perdition in the heart of a wicked woman, as the
dazzling power of the Prophet of Khorassan.</p>

<p>Bristol was a very courtly sort of fellow, and received a
glass of wine from the neat hand with considerable grace,
though inwardly wondering what it all meant. Their
wine-glasses touched, and the cheap nectar was drunk
in silence, Mrs. Winslow only indulging in those little motions
and changes of features that some women believe
to be attractive and fascinating, and which really are so to
many susceptible people; and though Bristol might ordinarily
have succumbed to the charms of the accomplished
woman before him&mdash;and had he been the retired banker
she supposed him to be would probably have done so&mdash;as
the sedate, elderly, and capable detective, he only
pretended to be smitten, and coyishly acknowledged her
loving glances with more than ordinary ardor.</p>

<p>Finally, the fair woman, after modestly biting her lips for
a time, began tapping the table with the handle of her
fan, and looking Bristol full in the face, suddenly said:</p>

<p>"Mr. Bristol, aren't you a little curious why I wanted
to see you?"</p>

<p>"Any man who is a man," replied Bristol earnestly,
"could not but have a pardonable curiosity when so fair
a woman as Mrs. Winslow claims his attention!"</p>

<p>"There, there," said she laughing, and extending her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>
hands across the table as if in a burst of confidence, "let
us wave formalities; let us be friends."</p>

<p>Bristol took her proffered hands rather stiffly, but held
them as long as was necessary, as they were pretty hands,
warm hands, and hands that could grasp another's with a
good show of honesty, too.</p>

<p>"There is no reason why we shouldn't," he said gallantly,
as she poured out another glass of wine.</p>

<p>"Only one," answered Mrs. Winslow archly. "The
three Graces don't like me, and they are bound we sha'n't
meet. Now," she continued, again tapping the table nervously
with her fan, and then raising her fine eyebrows
and looking at Bristol half anxiously, half tenderly, and
altogether meltingly, "<em>I</em> feel as though we had been acquainted
for years. Don't think me bold, Mr. Bristol,
but I have had you in my thoughts much&mdash;possibly <em>too</em>
much," she added with the faintest trace of a blush; "but
if I could feel that this&mdash;I was going to say attachment,
though that would be quite improper, and I will say&mdash;unexplainable
regard I have formed for you was in the least
measure reciprocated&mdash;&mdash;"</p>

<p>Bristol interrupted her with: "I think I can assure you
that it is, at least, in a proper measure."</p>

<p>"Then," she continued, apparently radiant with happiness,
"as I was about to say, I am sure it could be arranged
so that we could be more in each other's society.
You know who I am?" she abruptly and almost suspiciously
asked.</p>

<p>Bristol was almost put off his guard by the sudden<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>
change of the subject, but parried the question with:
"Certainly not; at least no more than through what I
have been told at the restaurant."</p>

<p>Tears started in her well-trained eyes, but she impetuously
brushed them away and followed the pretty piece
of acting with: "Oh, Mr. Bristol! I fear we may never
be to each other what we might have been if these three
old hags&mdash;I mean old maids&mdash;had not poisoned your
mind regarding me. Let me tell you," and she took hold
of his collar and drew the reluctant detective towards her,
"they are trying to get your money&mdash;your vast wealth.
Let a comparatively unknown friend whisper in your ear,
'<em>Beware!</em>'"</p>

<p>Bristol started, adjusted his glasses, grasped Mrs. Winslow's
hand, and, as if very much frightened and extremely
grateful, said heartily and with great fervor, "My dear
madam, for this kindness I am yours to command!"</p>

<p>The woman evidently felt assured from that moment
that she had made a conquest; but her varied experience
and professional tact, as well as her native shrewdness,
prevented her from expressing too great gayety over it,
and she proceeded to inform Bristol how keen and
shrewd the old ladies under Washington Hall were; how
in confidence they had told her that they would compel
him to marry one of them, and were going to draw cuts
to determine which should carry off the prize; and when
that was settled, if he did not marry the fortunate person
willingly, their combined evidence would bring him down,
or despoil him of a great portion of his wealth, which,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>
she had no doubt, he had acquired by long years of
honest toil.</p>

<p>Bristol expressed himself aghast at the depravity of
women, and told Mrs. Winslow that it seemed to him that
the nearer the grave they got the more terrible their greed
and hideousness became.</p>

<p>Mrs. Winslow murmured that <em>she</em> was not so very, <em>very</em>
old.</p>

<p>"Quite the contrary," said Bristol, gallantly, "and
even when you become so, I am sure&mdash;very sure, that you
will prove a marked exception."</p>

<p>An expression of pleasure flitted into her face, succeeded
by one of evident pain&mdash;pleasure, probably, that
she had made another dupe as she supposed; pain, that
in one swift moment there had flashed into her mind
some terrible picture of her cursed, lonely, homeless old
age, when the whole world should scoff at her and thrust
her from it, like the vile thing that she was and the hideous
thing that she would surely become; both followed
by the set features, where the cruel light came into her
eyes and the swift shuttles of crimson and ashy paleness
shot over her curled lips&mdash;the outward semblance of the
inward tigress, that, though diverted for an instant by
some little sunlight-flash of either tenderness or regret,
never could be won from its irrevocably awful nature!</p>

<p>But it was all gone as soon as it had come, and she sat
there, to all appearances a handsome woman, as modestly
and carefully as possible encroaching upon the
grounds of a first after-marriage flirtation, and in a few<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>
moments pleasantly said: "I have become so interested
in you, Mr. Bristol, that I have found myself asking the
question: Why is it that this gentleman is continually
in my mind? until, do you know, I have such a curiosity
about you that I shall be perfectly delighted to get better
acquainted with you."</p>

<p>Bristol gracefully acknowledged the compliment by
stating to her that he himself, since he had seen her, had
had a strange feeling that he should know more about her,
and the presentiment was still so strong upon him that he
was now quite sure that he <em>should</em>.</p>

<p>"Ever since I saw you I have felt that we should become
intimate," continued Mrs. Winslow radiantly.</p>

<p>"And I may myself confess that ever since I saw you,
Mrs. Winslow, I really <em>knew</em> that I should be obliged to
search you out and remain near you."</p>

<p>Mrs. Winslow blushed and coyishly asked: "Mr. Bristol,
do you believe in affinities?"</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<a href="images/166-167-lg.jpg" class="noline">
<img src="images/166-167-sm.jpg" width="400" height="252" alt="" title="" />
<span class="caption"><br /><i>"Do you believe in affinities, Mr. Bristol?"&mdash;</i></span></a>
</div>

<p>"Most assuredly."</p>

<p>"So do I, and as we have sat here together, it has
seemed to me that the good spirits were hovering over
and around us, and had been, and were even now, whispering
to us the sacredness of the affinity which surely
must exist between us."</p>

<p>Mrs. Winslow said this in a kind of rhapsody of emotion,
which betokened both an air of sincerity derived from frequent
repetition and long practice, and a sort of superstitious
belief in what she herself said; and then poured out
another glass of wine for each, while Bristol remarked as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>
he drank, that of late years these spirits had been a great
source of comfort to him, and that their free circulation was
a good thing for society.</p>

<p>An hour or two was pleasantly beguiled in this manner,
but Bristol hardly knew what course to pursue, and began
to feel that in the absence of instructions he might become
altogether too familiar with the charming woman who was
making such an effort to please him. But he dare not
cause her to become angry at him, for that would destroy
his usefulness, and she seemed bound that he should admire
her; so, as he had been directed by me to continue
the <i>rôle</i> of the "retired banker," he concluded it would
be better to humor Mrs. Winslow in the belief that he
was smitten by her, as she showed great anxiety that it
should be so. Accordingly, when she proposed that he
should call at her apartments that evening, he acceded to
the request with such a show of pleasure that Mrs. Winslow
could not restrain her gratification, but rose and terminated
the interview by slapping Bristol heartily on the
shoulder and calling him a "dear old trump, anyhow!"
And Fox, who was reading the morning paper over a glass of
beer at a little table not more than ten feet distant, looked
in blank astonishment at Bristol, as if fearing that the
woman had really bewitched him; while little Le Compte,
who stood at the entrance beyond, looked the very picture
of abject jealousy as he saw his darling lavishing endearments
upon a man old enough to be her father.</p>

<p>Mrs. Winslow passed out of the Fields, and noticing
Le Compte, who was retreating as rapidly as possible,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>
beckoned to him, and when he had approached her near
enough for her to speak to him, gave him a few quick,
angry words that sent him at a rapid pace over the railroad
bridge in the direction of his rooms; while she, after
a parting smile at the beaming Bristol, who stood radiantly
in the Fields' entrance, walked into St. Paul street,
and from thence back and forth past the restaurant,
where the three deserted old maids might witness her
stride of triumph; while Bristol joined Fox at a retired
spot under the shade of the trees overhanging the brink
of the precipice rising from the gorge of the Genesee
River, and explained the status of affairs which had all
unconsciously to himself drawn him from his quiet work
into an awful whirlpool of love and all that the term
implied. Fox felt much relieved at this information, and
at once proceeded home, while Bristol, with a guilty look
in his face, returned to the little restaurant, where he
found a dispatch from me stating that Mrs. Winslow
intended going to Canada two days later, as I had been
very positively informed by Le Compte, and directing him
to in some manner keep her company and never let her
make a move or meet a person without his knowledge.</p>

<p>Bristol hardly saw how he was to do this, but concluded
that it might be best to wait until after his interview with
his charmer in the evening, so that he could also forward
the result of that with his regular report; and after expressing
unbounded regret at being obliged to part from
the three graces and a little card-party they had arranged,
he proceeded to Mrs. Winslow's apartments,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>
which had seemingly been specially arranged for his
reception.</p>

<p>The mistress of the place was most elegantly attired,
and greeted the "retired banker" with such grace and
marked esteem, that Fox, at his lonely window opposite,
almost felt jealous of the attention bestowed upon his
comrade by their mutual quarry.</p>

<p>If ever a woman endeavored to make herself irresistibly
winning, it was Mrs. Winslow on that night. She
threw off all reserve at once, and was all smiles, pleasant
words, and pretty ways. The rooms were most beautifully
arranged, and where splendid flowers failed to furnish
aroma, the delicate odors of art took their place. A very
shrewd woman was Mrs. Winslow&mdash;a woman who was
supreme in the art of providing <i>bijouterie</i> to appeal to
the sensuous in men's natures. In her conversation,
which apparently was lady-like enough when guarded,
there was always more suggested than said. The tone,
the smile, the eye, the gesture, the touch&mdash;every movement,
glance, or sound, betokened an unexpressed <em>something</em>
ready at any moment to be brought forward to
crush down a weakening resolution, and sweep from existence
so much of good or purity as might come into her
baleful presence. She had rich game in Bristol, she
thought. Why could she not work this with the Lyon
case, bring to a successful termination a half-dozen other
cases she was working up, secure a big pile of spoil at one
time, and then with her little Le Compte glide away to
<i>La Belle France</i>, where with his wit and her winning ways<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>
and wisdom, she might yet amass vast wealth in levying
upon the personal and family pride of the thousands of
rich numskulls who annually throng the gay capital.</p>

<p>And so to any man but a duty-doing detective that
evening would have been a thrilling one. As it was, it
was a hard one for Bristol, who knew that Fox's lynx
eyes were upon him from across the street, who had to
invent legend after legend regarding his life, his present
and his imaginary future, and who was obliged under any
circumstances not only to please the woman, but to preserve
himself blameless&mdash;two things to ordinary men
quite difficult to manage.</p>

<p>During the hour that Bristol remained with her she intimated
to him the propriety of his securing another boarding-place,
so that they might enjoy each other's society
without the annoyance to which the old maids would
subject them both should he remain there. He had
wanted to make a change, Bristol said, but his long and
varied experience had made him cautious, and he never
gave up one good thing until he had secured a better.
How would as pleasant a place as this do, Mrs. Winslow
wanted to know? She had been thinking of renting the
entire flat, she said, and then re-renting it to select
parties, like Mr. Bristol, who were willing to pay a good
price for a really luxurious place in which to live.</p>

<p>Bristol was apparently flattered by her regard for him,
which had, of course, alone suggested the matter to her
mind; but, being an elderly gentleman of conservative
habits, he required time to think the matter over. In any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>
event, it couldn't but be a pleasant theme for contemplation.</p>

<p>In fact, they got along famously together; so much so,
indeed, that before Bristol had taken his departure, Mrs.
Winslow had pressed him to accompany her on a trip of
both business and pleasure to Toronto, and had so
urgently presented the request that he had half consented
to go, and was quite sure that he would be able to do so,
unless some unexpected business transaction should
detain him. In any case, he would be able to inform her
by the next afternoon, he said, as he gallantly bade her
good-night, and observed Le Compte scowling upon him
from the dark end of the hall beyond.</p>

<p>Bristol hastened to the post-office and added the events
of the evening to his daily report, which reached me the
next afternoon, when I telegraphed to him to proceed
with Mrs. Winslow, as her friend; but while pleasing her
by feigning extreme regard, to be discreet, and not put
himself too much in her power, nor to allow her to advance
any of her other schemes by a sort of exhibition of
him as her champion and protector.</p>

<p>Mrs. Winslow was made very happy by Bristol's acceptance
of her invitation, and, at her suggestion, they took
the train for Port Charlotte as strangers&mdash;Mrs. Winslow
informing Bristol that the "old scoundrel," meaning
Lyon, was having her watched, she believed, but she
would outwit him at every point; but on arriving at the
Port the loving couple got together quite naturally, and
soon after were on board a steamer bound for Port Hope.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p><p>It was one of those dreamy, hazy days of early September,
when the disappearing shore seemed to gradually
take upon itself a tint of blue as deep as that of the sky
above and as pure as that of the waters below, which on
this day was almost as smooth as a mirror, only broken
by long, far-reaching swells that seemed to have neither
beginning nor end, but which here and there swept away
in endless ribbons of liquid light, while the trailing wake
of the steamer seemed in the pleasant sun like some
marvellous and limitless lace-work flung across the water
in wanton richness and profusion.</p>

<p>It was a lovely day for love, and to an unprejudiced
observer Bristol and Mrs. Winslow improved it. At
Charlotte the woman spoke of the matter in such a way
that Bristol understood that she would not object to
make the trip as his wife, but he innocently failed to
catch the meaning of her covert invitation, and was only
the attentive admirer during the entire trip. But in the
cabin, or seated coyishly together under a huge sunshade
upon the forward deck, they were as fine a couple as one
would care to see, while the woman seemed unusually
affectionate and agreeable.</p>

<p>Arriving at Port Hope after a few hours, the couple
took the night train for the West, and arrived at Toronto
at midnight, being driven to the Queen's Hotel. They
had become so confidential and intimate by this time that
Mrs. Winslow again suggested the propriety of travelling
under more intimate relations than they had done, but
was again carefully diverted from her purpose by the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>
assumed innocence of the venerable detective, who saw
that her real purpose was to secure evidence of having
travelled as his wife, in order to have a future power
over him, as she certainly believed him to be a man of
great wealth.</p>

<p>She had told him that she had business that would prevent
her seeing him during the next day, at which he
expressed extreme regret, and they retired to their separate
apartments for the night.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XVII.</h2>

<div class="chapdesc"><p>Careful Work.&mdash;Bristol's Trick on the Bell-boy at Queen's Hotel,
Toronto.&mdash;The old Merchant.&mdash;In the Toils.&mdash;A Face at the Transom.&mdash;A
cowardly Puppet before a brazen Adventuress.&mdash;The
Horrors of Blackmail.&mdash;"Furnished Rooms to Rent."</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">A</span>S Mrs. Winslow had said, she was not to be seen
the next morning; and Bristol, after breakfasting
early, came to the conclusion that he should also be
busied for the day following my instructions to watch her
every movement.</p>

<p>He ascertained the number of her room and leisurely
strolled through the hall until he located it, when he at
once took a position where he could observe any movement
in or out of the door. At about ten o'clock he
noticed a waiter enter her room as if by summons, in
a few minutes pass out smiling, and shortly afterwards
return with a very large glass filled with some sort of
liquor. Soon after he brought her breakfast, and about a
half-hour later he saw that the dishes were being removed
from the room, and, lying on one edge of the tray, an
ordinary envelope, from its puffed condition evidently containing
a note. He felt sure that this would give him the
overture to the day's performance; but how to secure
it was another thing entirely. He could not take the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>
letter from the tray, as it rested on the front edge which
projected over the boy's shoulder, and was consequently
immediately before his eyes. He probably would not be
able to bribe him into letting him have it, for the letter
might require an answer, and he would fear getting into
trouble. Bristol was standing at the end of the hall, by
the window overlooking the street, while the waiter was
approaching the stairs which descended to the lower
floors near him. The boy had reached the second step
going down, and it was Bristol's last opportunity.</p>

<p>"Stop!" he said excitedly to the boy. "Here, give
me that tray," and he pulled it from the boy's shoulder
and rested it upon the stair-rail. "I'll take care of this.
Run down to the street, now, quick, and get me a this
morning's paper. There's a newsboy right in front of the
house. Here's a half-dollar; keep the change!"</p>

<p>The boy seemed startled at the action, but Bristol had
been so impetuous about it; that he had relinquished the
tray and started down stairs, but, recovering himself,
came back and reached his hand up as if to take the letter.</p>

<p>"Tut, tut," said Bristol angrily, picking up the letter
and carelessly putting it in his pocket without looking at
the address, "I'll take care of everything until you get
back; get along with you now!"</p>

<p>Bristol was noted for his benign and fatherly appearance,
and, after another good look at him, the waiter took
a brisk trot down stairs, leaving the detective in possession
of the letter. He hastily put the tray upon the floor,
and whisking the letter from his pocket, saw that it was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span>
addressed with a pencil, to "J. Devereaux, No. &mdash;, Yonge
St.," and marked "Personal." It was but the work of an
instant to open it, and but of a moment to read it, as it
was short and to the point, and ran as follows:</p>

<div class="blockquot">
<p class="ralign sm2"><span class="smcap">Queen's Hotel</span>, <span class="smcap">Toronto</span>, Sept. 6, 186-.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Devereaux</span>&mdash;I am hard up. I need one thousand
dollars, though five hundred will do, but I must have that
amount at once. You have intimated that you would not
help me any further. I have merely to say to you that if
you do not either call with, or send the money, during the
day, I will cause you to reflect as to whether your business
and social reputation are not worth to you and your
estimable family immeasurably more than the trifle
named. Exercise your own pleasure about the matter
however.</p>

<p class="ralign smcap">Mrs. W.</p></div>

<p>Bristol copied this upon the back of the addressed envelope
in less than a minute, and in a minute more had
the note enclosed in another envelope and addressed in
a handwriting sufficiently similar to that of Mrs. Winslow's
to answer every purpose, and had just got into a
calm and bland position with the tray, when the boy came
up the stairs, three steps at a time, gave the paper a toss
into the hall, jerked the letter out of Bristol's hand, and
after giving him a look that had considerable resentment
in it, strode down the stairs with his tray on his shoulder
and his letter in his pocket, in a very offended and dignified
manner.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p><p>But as Bristol was on this kind of business at Toronto
he thought he might as well ascertain where the little fellow
went; and, taking a position a half-block distant from
the hotel, was obliged to wait but a little time before the
waiter came down and started off on a brisk walk down
the street.</p>

<p>He waited until the boy had passed him, and then followed
him in and out the streets until he saw him suddenly
turn into a large wholesale house on Yonge street,
when he rapidly lessened the distance between them, arriving
in front of the place as he saw the boy hand the
note to a thin old gentleman, who took him aside and
nervously questioned him for a few minutes, after which
he nodded to him as if assenting to something, or directing
the boy to return an affirmative answer to whoever
had sent the note, or whatever it contained.</p>

<p>The boy walked briskly back to the hotel, and Bristol
only remained long enough to notice the old man&mdash;who
was evidently the Devereaux of whom Le Compte
had informed me, and whose name Bristol had so recently
written&mdash;walk tremblingly towards the door as if overcome
with some sudden faintness, and in a sort of vacant,
listless way tear the note into little bits and fling them
piecemeal upon the stones of the street, hurling the last
bunch of pieces upon the pavement with a violent, agonized
action, as if he would to God he could dispose of the
dark and relentless shadow across his life as quickly and
as effectually!</p>

<p>All Bristol now had to do was to ascertain when Devereaux
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span>called, and, if possible, to overhear what was said
at the interview.</p>

<p>But this might not be so easy a matter to accomplish
as securing the contents of the letter addressed to the
latter. After studying the matter over for a little time,
but without any definite decision what to do, he found
himself strolling along the hall where Mrs. Winslow's
room was located, and noticed several rooms standing
open and being put to rights after the departure of guests.
Among this number was one next to that occupied by
Mrs. Winslow, and, taking the number, he immediately
repaired to the office and had his baggage changed to that
room, where, after dinner, with a few cigars and some
fresh reading matter, he comfortably and leisurely waited
for developments.</p>

<p>The day dragged along, and both Bristol and Mrs.
Winslow became anxious. The latter paced back and
forth in her room, and every few moments went to the
door, and even passed out into the hall, going as far as
the stairs and peering anxiously down, while the waiter at
frequent intervals was summoned to provide her courage
and patience of a liquid character. Finally, however,
Bristol noticed that she had either concluded to take a
short nap, or was determined to wait patiently, for quite
a period of silence elapsed in her room, which he took
advantage of to steal quietly out into the hall, leaving his
door ajar so that he might re-enter it noiselessly as occasion
required.</p>

<p>It was not long before the occasion presented itself, for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>
Bristol had got no more than to the end of the hall when
he saw Devereaux ascending the stairs from below. He
quietly stepped behind the curtains that trailed from the
lambrequin over the window, and watched the old man as
he came up the stairs.</p>

<p>He was a little, gray, withered old man. Almost all
his strength was gone, and he certainly had but a few
more years to use what little strength was left. His hair
was almost white, and his face was quite as colorless,
while the weak, rheumy eyes seemed almost ready to fall
through the flesh which had withered away to the bones
of his face. He was a living example of the blackmailer's
victim as he labored along, now and then catching
at the stair-rail for help, and looking behind and
around him as if fearing some sudden discovery. Arriving
upon the hall floor, he peered anxiously at the numbers
upon the doors, and after settling in his mind what
direction to take, went on tremblingly with bowed head
towards the woman who was as remorseless as death
itself.</p>

<p>He found the room after a little trouble, and tapped at
it apprehensively. It was at once opened and immediately
closed after, when Bristol sprang from his hiding-place
and was in the adjoining room almost as soon as
the next door had closed.</p>

<p>During the afternoon, when Mrs. Winslow had absented
herself from her room, he had dragged the bureau against
the door opening into her apartment, placed a quilt from
his bed upon it in order that his jumping upon it might<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>
occasion no noise, and with his knife cut a diamond
shaped piece out of the green paper covering the glass
transom, darkening his own room so that his eyes
could not by any possibility be seen through the aperture
in the piece of paper, which had a dead black appearance
from Mrs. Winslow's room; and by the time the poor old
man had confronted the woman in a scared kind of a way,
and had seated himself upon the sofa obedient to her imperious
gesture, the "retired banker's" eyes and eye-glasses
looked calmly down upon a scene the whole terrible
import of which, could it have been presented to the
world in all its terrible hideousness, and in some form
become eternally typical of the curse it illustrated, would
have stood for all time a savage Cerberus frightening men
from this kind of infamy and self-destruction.</p>

<p>In all my startling experience with criminals and the
sad incidents which have in the peculiar nature of my
business forced themselves upon my observation, there
has been no one thing so reprehensible as the trade of
the blackmailer, and there is a no more terrible torture
than that inflicted by that class of criminals; and I am
satisfied that could heads of families realize their terrible
danger when heedlessly forming some unholy alliance,
which is sure to eventually whip and scourge them until
life is a burden, there would be less of the moral laxity
and lechery than now burdens the world from palace
and pulpit to poverty-stricken hovel.</p>

<p>What more pitiable picture than that of a man just
ready to pass from all that should be worth having and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span>
loving to the unknown country, with fear behind and awful
uncertainty beyond&mdash;with the work of a whole life,
which should now bring a reward of tenderness, gratitude,
and reverential esteem, embittered and blasted by the
relentless curse that ever trails after weakness and
passion&mdash;fear, distrust, and apprehension between himself
and family, and the Damoclean sword ever above him,
ready to fall at the instant he endeavors to throw the
horrible shadow from him to regain honesty and uprightness!</p>

<p>There the old man sat, a cowardly puppet before a
brazen adventuress&mdash;sat there a weak, drivelling, idiotic
wreck before one so vile that she was no longer capable
of regret&mdash;sat there ruined in everything worth the preservation
of, suffering what he had for years suffered&mdash;the
regret, the remorse, the shame, and the abject fear that
were worse than a thousand deaths; while the utterly
heartless woman, with her hands folded across her waist in
a masculine sort of a way, looked at him smilingly, seemingly
enjoying his efforts to recover the breath lost in the,
to him, severe labor of getting to her room; as it appeared
to be the custom for him to see her there rather
than in the parlor.</p>

<p>The interview was business-like, and, as it was not overwhelmed
with sentiment, was not protracted.</p>

<p>Mrs. Winslow asked Devereaux if he had brought the
money, and he stammered that he had. Well, she wanted
it, and didn't want any nonsense with it, either, she said,
with a vast amount of meaning thrown into the words; he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span>
knew whether he <em>owed</em> her that amount or not, and, if he
did, she didn't propose having any bickering about it.</p>

<p>Then the old man slowly rose, and cursing her, himself,
and all the world, flung her the money and said he would
go, as he knew that was all she wanted.</p>

<p>She told him frankly that it was pretty nearly all she
wanted, but added jocosely that he was still "a charmer,"
and that that fact, too, had its influence in periodically
drawing her to him; and then bade him an affectionate
good-by as he feebly glared at her, and passed, whining,
cursing, and tottering away.</p>

<p>Mrs. Winslow was very happy and gay now, and during
the evening and on their return to Rochester was all
smiles and winsomeness. Her detective companion
could scarcely enter into her unusual joyousness, but did
the best he could, and that was well enough, as she was
so pleased with the success of her Toronto trip that her
mind was altogether employed with it until nearing home,
when her eminent business ability again asserted itself,
and she became more affectionate than ever to the retired
banker, repeating the proposition concerning the rooms,
which Bristol had of course reported, and which he would
be prepared to act upon when he could secure his mail
at Rochester.</p>

<p>He told her he had thought favorably of it, and after he
had ascertained whether he should remain in the city a
stated period or not, would inform her of his decision,
which he presumed would be favorable and permit of
their continued pleasant intimacy; while Mrs. Winslow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>
confided to him that she had thought seriously of the
course for some time. She knew Lyon was having her
watched, she said, and she had decided that it would be
best to change her business to one which could not be so
easily misinterpreted, or at least add to her present business
something that in the eyes of those who scoffed at
spiritualism would have a measure of respectability about
it, and from which she could not only secure a livelihood,
but such a pleasant companion as Mr. Bristol; and they
parted upon the train before arriving at the depot with a
thorough understanding about the future, and an appointment
for another meeting at the first opportunity.</p>

<p>Unknown to Bristol I had sent another operative to
keep him and Mrs. Winslow company, and on receiving
the reports of each I decided to put my men in her
rooms, where one of them could constantly observe her
actions, and never under any circumstances give her an
opportunity to make any new move without my knowledge.
I therefore sent another man to Rochester for
outside work, and directed Bristol to accept the woman's
proposition and become her lodger, and, as soon after as
possible without exciting her suspicions, appear to become
acquainted with Fox, recommend him as a lodger,
and secure his introduction to the place as M. D. Lyford,
a book-keeper in some establishment of the city which
they might settle upon, so that he might relieve Bristol,
and <i>vice versa</i>, as occasion required.</p>

<p>So the furnished rooms sign went up over the clairvoyant
sign, and Mrs. Winslow added to the charms of handsome
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>medium those of an attractive landlady, while the
three old maids under Washington Hall lost their prize,
who became a sort of an aged page to the castaway woman
who had such luxurious rooms for rent in the
autumn of 186-, on South St. Paul street, near Meech's
Opera-house, in the beautiful city of Rochester.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2>

<div class="chapdesc"><p>Harcout again.&mdash;"Things going slow."&mdash;A Bit of personal History.&mdash;A
new Tenant.&mdash;Detective Generalship.&mdash;Mrs. Winslow fears she
is watched.&mdash;Mr. Pinkerton cogitates.</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">I</span>T is pleasant to realize that the world moves along
just the same, whether the many mild lunatics it carries
attempt to interfere with it or not. There are countless
men, precisely like Harcout, incapable of holding in
their little brains but one idea at a time, and that idea
invariably pushes to the surface their own supreme egotism
and self-consciousness, and just as invariably displays
their utter ignorance of what they are continually interfering
with; and it is both a grateful and charitable thought
that such small minds, burdened with such vast assurance,
are merely provided by Omniscience to make us patient,
to warn us from allowing such knowledge as we may fortunately
gain from developing into similar self-assertion,
and to serve to illustrate true worth by contrast.</p>

<p>Here was this fellow sweeping into my office every
day, demanding every detail of my operations on Mrs.
Winslow, even intimating that I should consult with him
as to every move to be made, and submit to his consideration
even the character of the men employed, the color
of their clothing and the quality, and every item or act<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>
concerning or included in the work. He had, in some
unexplainable way that is common to brazen assurance
or unmitigated ignorance, fastened himself upon the weak
old man as a sort of confidential agent, or what-not,
worked upon his fears, his superstitions, and his foolish
half-faith in a system of religion that has never yet made
other than male and female prostitutes, adventurers, or
lunatics, until the old man, standing alone and almost
friendless, had learned to cling to him, and almost rely
upon his consummate bravado to extricate him from the
meshes of the web his own vileness and a vile woman
had woven about him; so that in one sense he stood in
the relation of principal to me, and I found it impossible
to shake him off, or relieve myself to any great extent of
his impudent presence and foolish suggestions.</p>

<p>I knew that he was utterly without principle, and was
only making a show of this extraordinary energy in order
to appear to more than earn whatever he got from Lyon,
and continue in the latter's mind the feeling that he was
utterly indispensable to him. I also knew him to be as
mean an adventurer as Mrs. Winslow was an adventuress;
that he was the villain who had first unloosed this vast
flood of vileness and lechery upon society, and who, as
the shameless Christian minister of Detroit, had put the
fire-brand from hell in this woman's hand, to ever after
continue her moral incendiarism wherever she might go,
until thrust from life and infamous memory, and it annoyed
me that this sort of a man should dictate to me.</p>

<p>I could have disposed of him at one stroke, and I am<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>
satisfied that had I on only one occasion addressed him
as the Rev. Mr. Bland, and casually inquired concerning
his old Detroit friends, including Mother Blake, he would
have slunk away without a word or a protest of any kind
whatever; and had I gone farther, and showed him what
he himself did not know, that this woman, whom he was
so anxious to have brought down with some startling
development, was none other than the one whom he had
led into a life of sin from the pleasant Nettleton farm-house
by the winding river, and that he was now playing
guardian to a man that would have probably been free
from the curse that was hanging over him, had it not been
for Harcout's earlier and more rascally villainy, he would
have disappeared altogether, but I realized that this
would not do. It would have had the effect of putting
Lyon at the mercy of a horde of new ghouls, while the
existing one frightened all others away and was in a
measure a protection to Lyon, for he was now only bled
by one, where he would otherwise have been bled by
twenty.</p>

<p>Aside from this, it would have probably resulted in Mrs.
Winslow's being put on her guard, giving her time, not
only to cover her tracks in many criminal instances we
had already discovered against her, but also cause her to
prevent witnesses from giving depositions, or, where depositions
had already been taken, give her an opportunity
to secure affidavits from the parties who gave them that
they were mistaken as to the identity of the person named
in those instruments, and in other particulars greatly destroy
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>the effect of the work already done and that which I
had planned; and I was consequently obliged to bear
the fellow's dictatorial manner and suggestions, as he insisted
on doing the work this way or that way, and urged
that I was not "pushing things" fast enough.</p>

<p>"Why, Mr. Pinkerton," said he one day, his eyebrows
elevated and the corners of his mouth drawn down, his
whole face expressive of lofty condescension and gentle,
though firm reproof, "things are going rather slow&mdash;rather
slow. Hem! When we brought this case to you,
we depended upon expedition&mdash;depended on expedition,
Mr. Pinkerton."</p>

<p>"And have you any cause to complain?" I asked
pleasantly.</p>

<p>"Well, I don't know as we should exactly call it 'complain.'
No, I don't know as we exactly complain; but,
if we might be allowed the privilege&mdash;hem!&mdash;we would
beg to suggest, without giving offence&mdash;beg to suggest,
mind you, without giving offence," he repeated, in the
most offensive way possible, "that, if I might be
allowed the expression, things are not pushed quite
enough!"</p>

<p>"On the contrary," I continued good-naturedly, "we
have secured what any good lawyer would consider an
overwhelming amount of evidence, and are letting the
woman take her own course, in order to allow her to completely
unwind herself."</p>

<p>"But you see, Pinkerton, we supposed when we brought
the case to you that you would, so to speak, smash things<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>&mdash;break
her all up and scatter her, as it were&mdash;hem!&mdash;disperse
her, you know."</p>

<p>He said this as though he had taken a contract with
Lyon to compel me to avenge them both on the woman,
and it heated my blood to be considered in the light of
any person's hired assassin; but I controlled myself, and
explained the matter to him.</p>

<p>"Harcout," said I, "do you know anything about my
history?"</p>

<p>"Well, nothing save what I've seen in the newspapers.
Merely by reputation," he added lightly.</p>

<p>"Well, sir, whatever that reputation may be, Harcout,"
I said, "this is the truth. I never, that I know of, did a
dishonorable deed. I worked from a poor boy to whatever
position or business standing I now have&mdash;worked
hard for everything I got or gained, and I never yet found
it necessary to do dirty work for any person."</p>

<p>"Quite noble of you&mdash;quite noble," said Harcout patronizingly.</p>

<p>"The detection of criminals," I continued, paying no
attention to his moralizing, "<em>should</em> be as honorable&mdash;and
so far as I have been able to do, has been made as honorable&mdash;while
it is certainly as necessary as that of any
other calling. No element of revenge can enter into my
work. You came to me with a case which I at first objected
to take, on account of its nature. I would not
have taken it for all the money Mr. Lyon possesses, had
I not been assured that this Mrs. Winslow was a dangerous
woman. Nor, knowing that she is one, as I now do,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>
would I have any connection with the case if I found
that Mr. Lyon insisted on my using the peculiar power
which I always have at command for any other purpose
than the, in this case, legitimate one of securing evidence
against her which actually exists. I am satisfied that a
no more relentless and terrible woman ever lived, but
shall leave her punishment to her disappointment in not
securing what her whole soul is bent on getting, and that
is Lyon's money. I have nothing whatever to do with
punishment, sir, and no person ever did or ever can use
my force for that nefarious purpose!"</p>

<p>"Oh, exactly&mdash;exactly," replied the oily Harcout;
"but, you see, we rather&mdash;hem!&mdash;expected something
startling, you know. Now, for instance," here he raised
his eyebrows and pursed his lips in a wise way; "supposing
you had just ascertained all about her early history,
you would probably have found that Mrs. Winslow had
played these games all her life. Undoubtedly you could
point to the very first man whom she blackmailed&mdash;&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Undoubtedly," I interrupted, "I'm sure I could do it
at this moment!"</p>

<p>Harcout looked at me quickly, but as I was gazing at
the ceiling as if in deep thought, he went on quite enthusiastically:</p>

<p>"Exactly. They learn it early. They will swindle at
sixteen, rob at eighteen; blackmail at twenty; and kill a
man any time after that!"</p>

<p>"Why, Harcout are <em>you</em> a woman-hater?" I laughingly
asked, notwithstanding my annoyance.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, no," he suddenly replied; "but I had a friend who
once suffered from very much the same sort of a woman
as this Mrs. Winslow, and she was not eighteen years old
either. But to resume: Get this point in her life, and
the rest&mdash;hem!&mdash;the rest reads right on like the chapters
of a book!"</p>

<p>"And then what?" I ventured to ask.</p>

<p>"Then what?" he asked indignantly; "go for her
through the newspapers. Drive her out of the country.
Make it impossible for her to ever return;" and then, as
if reflecting, "ruin her altogether. Any reporter will
listen to you if you have anybody to ruin! In fact, get
up an excitement about it and show her up."</p>

<p>"And try your case in the newspapers instead of in the
courts?" I added, "which would have the effect of
leaving the matter at the end just where it was at the
beginning, with nothing proven, and Mr. Lyon still at the
mercy of any future surprise the woman might conceive a
fancy of springing upon him."</p>

<p>But there was no means of changing this lofty gentleman's
opinions, and these interviews were always necessarily
closed by the threat on my part that I would have
nothing further to do with the matter if I was not allowed
to conduct my operations according to my own judgment
in the light of my own large experience upon such matters,
and Mr. Harcout would depart in a most dignified and
frigid manner, as though it were a "positively last appearance,"
only to return the next day with more objections
and a new batch of suggestions, which were given me for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span>
"what they were worth," as he would remark, and we
would fight our battles all over again, with the stereotyped
result.</p>

<p>I saw Mr. Lyon very seldom, and he always approached
me in the timid, reluctant way in which he had come
into my office when the case was first begun; but, contrary
to what I had anticipated through Harcout's injunctions
to "push things" and crush the woman out, he
approved of my course throughout, and seemed wonderfully
pleased that everything had been conducted so
quietly and yet so effectively. Of course he shrank from
the trial and the miserable sort of publicity all such trials
compel; but he was <em>more</em> fearful of the woman's future
unexpected and sudden sallies upon him, which both he
and myself were satisfied would be made at her convenience
or whim, and was only too glad to agree to any
course which would compel silence and peace.</p>

<p>At Rochester everything was working smoothly. After
Bristol had become located, his first work was to secure
the admission to Mrs. Winslow's rooms of Fox, as Lyford,
which was done by representing that, the same day he had
himself gone there, he had suddenly come upon a sort of
relative of his who was a book-keeper in a wholesale
house on Mill street, and who was boarding at the Osborn
House, and would be glad to make some arrangement
whereby he might live comfortably, be near his
business, and take his meals when and where he pleased.
Thinking he would be more pleasantly situated, and, at the
same time, be able to economize somewhat, Bristol said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span>
he had recommended Mrs. Winslow's rooms very highly
and that Lyford had agreed to call and take a look at the
place, which he did, making a good impression, and arranging
to have his baggage sent the next day.</p>

<p>The rooms were situated so that the two detectives in
a measure had their quarry surrounded, or, at least, completely
flanked. The halls of the floor intersected each
other at right angles at the top of the stairs, and Mrs.
Winslow's reception-room was at the right, as the hall was
entered from the stairway, while her sleeping-room could
only be reached from this sitting-room, although being
situated next the hall running parallel with the front of the
building, while Bristol had shrewdly secured another sleeping-room
fronting on St. Paul street, similar in size to
Mrs. Winslow's, adjoining hers, and also, like hers, opening
into the reception-room, which they had agreed to use
in common, as it seemed that the fair landlady was all of
a sudden, for some reason, becoming close and penurious.
Fox's room was across the hall immediately opposite Mrs.
Winslow's, as he had expressed a strong desire to be as
near his cousin, Mr. Bristol, as possible, so that by chance
and a little careful work the parties were located with as
much appropriateness as I could possibly have wished for.
The operatives each paid a month's rent in advance, taking
receipts for the same, and immediately began paying particular
attention to all parties who came in and out of the
building, circulated freely among the Spiritualists of the
city, and got on as good terms as possible with the charming
landlady, who seemed at times to be a little suspicious<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>
of her surroundings, as it introduced altogether too many
strange faces to suit a person who had a no clearer conscience
than she had.</p>

<p>From the gay, dashing woman she had been, she became
unpleasantly suspicious. She explained this to
Bristol and Fox as arising from unfavorable visions and
revelations from the spirits through the different mediums
she had employed to give her the truth about her case
with Lyon. The rooms had filled up rapidly with people
whom the operatives had taken pains to ascertain all
about, and who, as a rule, were honest folks; but Mrs.
Winslow could not get it out of her mind that some of
them were spies from Lyon, and were watching her in
everything that she did.</p>

<p>There had been nothing whatever done to alarm her on
the part of my men; but the fact alone that here were a
dozen people all about her, any one of whom might at
any time spring some sudden harm upon her, began to
affect her as the fear she had all her life inspired in others
had affected them; and she began to form a habit of
talking pleasantly on ordinary subjects, and then turning
abruptly and almost fiercely upon Bristol and Fox, who
were now the only persons left whom she would at all trust&mdash;even
distrusting them&mdash;with a series of questions so
vital, and given with such wonderful rapidity, that it required
the best efforts of the operatives to parry her home-thrusts
and quiet her regarding them.</p>

<p>It was a question in my mind whether she had laid by
a large sum of money or not. Years before she had several
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span>thousand dollars; up to the time she came to Rochester
she had had the reputation of never paying a bill,
and, however hedged in she might be by justice, jury, constables,
or sheriff, she not only escaped incarceration, but
beat them all without paying any manner of tribute. She
had done a fair business in duping Spiritualists and other
weak-minded people while in Rochester; she had evidently
levied upon Devereaux often and largely, and to
my certain knowledge had taken some thousands of dollars
from Lyon, and I was at a loss to know why she was
growing so grasping and exacting as the reports showed
was true of her; for she soon complained of being poor,
levied additional assessment for care of the rooms, insisted
upon her tenants receiving sittings at a good round price
from her, and in general dropped the veneer which had
formerly made her extremely fascinating, and became,
save in exceptional moments of good nature, a masculine,
repulsive shrew, who, with a slight touch of hideousness,
might have passed for a stage witch or a neighborhood
plague.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XIX.</h2>

<div class="chapdesc"><p>Mrs. Winslow becomes confidential.&mdash;Some of her Exploits.&mdash;Her
Plans.&mdash;A Sample of Legal Pleading.&mdash;A fishy Story.&mdash;The Adventuress
as a Somnambulist.&mdash;Detective Bristol virtuously indignant.&mdash;Failing
to win the "Retired Banker," Mrs. Winslow
assails Detective Fox with her Charms.</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">A</span>FTER a time Bristol and Fox became Mrs. Winslow's
only confidants. Their business was to become
so, and they successfully accomplished their object.
As Bristol said in one of his reports: "Only set her
tongue wagging, and she spouts away as irresistibly as an
artesian well."</p>

<p>Had she been possessed of womanly instinct in the
slightest degree, this would have been impossible. But
being a male in everything save her physical structure, it
was quite natural that she should hobnob with those most
congenial; and as she had antagonized all her lodgers
save my operatives, and they made a particular effort to
keep up a good-natured familiarity, the three were certainly
on as easy terms as possible, and passed the
autumn evenings, which were growing long now, in conversation
of an exceedingly varied nature, with an occasional
sitting or seance, and not infrequently a visitation
of spirits of more material character; and the following<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span>
are a few of the many facts in this way brought out, and
by Bristol and Fox transmitted to me at New York in
their daily mail reports.</p>

<p>In one of Mrs. Winslow's peregrinations, probably for
blackmail purposes, she secured the indictment in Crawford
County, Pennsylvania, of one George Hodges, for
swindling. He was not at that time arrested, but a year
or so after, finding that he was in Cincinnati, and claiming
that he was a non-resident, had him arrested as a fugitive
from justice. When the case was called before an
obscure justice, no prosecuting witness appeared, whereupon
Hodges was discharged and at once secured a warrant
against her for perjury, but afterwards withdrew it.
Meantime the woman shook the dust of Cincinnati from
her feet and repaired to St. Louis, where she began several
suits against parties there, notably one against a leading
daily newspaper of that city, from which she afterwards
secured one thousand dollars damages for libel. She
afterwards swung around the circle to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania,
where she obtained from the Governor of that
State a requisition on the Governor of Ohio, at Columbus,
upon whom she waited and requested him to designate her
as the person to whom should be delegated the power under
the law to convey the fugitive, Hodges, to the Keystone
State; but the private secretary of the Governor of
Ohio suspecting that the person who had presented the
papers, and for whose benefit they had been issued, would
make improper use of them, they were returned to the
Governor of Pennsylvania, whereupon she had made<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>
Columbus ring with denunciations of gubernatorial corruption,
and threatened to cause the impeachment of Pennsylvania's
Executive, although those two commonwealths
were never completely shattered by her.</p>

<p>Again in conversation regarding her case, which now
seemed never out of her mind or off her tongue, she
informed Bristol confidentially that she intended keeping
Lyon in the dark altogether, giving him and his counsel
no inkling as to what course she intended to pursue,
which would so worry him that he would be glad to settle
for at least twenty-five thousand dollars, rather than have
the case come to trial and be exposed as she would expose
him; and if he did not settle at the last moment, she
would have subpœnas issued for Lyon's mother-in-law, all
his children, several other women who, the spirits had revealed,
had been similarly betrayed, and even Lyon himself,
and then she <em>would</em> make a sensation.</p>

<p>At this stage she was positive he would settle, as she
knew he was half worried to death about the matter; and
besides this, he knew that she knew he had told a certain
lawyer of the city that he had once loved her better than
any other woman on earth, and the only reason he had
discarded her was that he was sure her love had taken
hold on his pocket and forsaken himself.</p>

<p>She had signed a release of all claims, but she would
stoutly maintain that it was fraudulently secured, which
would only further establish the fact that she had had
a valid claim upon him. Nor did she fear the opposing
counsel. She was lawyer enough to attend to her own case,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>
she said. Her legal knowledge helped her through many a
difficulty, and as she had been lawyer enough to file a declaration,
she could get a rejoinder in shape whenever the
answer should appear upon the court records. Oh, she
knew how to handle a jury; she had done it before! In
<em>this</em> case she would say: "Gentlemen of the jury:&mdash;There
are many who believe that I merely seek for
money. This is not true. I ask for a verdict that I may
gain a husband. For all of the injury that I have
received&mdash;lost time, lost money, lost reputation, years of
suspense and hope deferred&mdash;I only ask for a verdict in
consonance with what a man in Lyon's position should
be compelled to give to one so grossly wronged. Gentlemen,
if you give me a heavy verdict, you give me Mr.
Lyon. I say this in all sincerity&mdash;yes, as a proof of my
sincerity. I want the man, not his money; and a heavy
verdict gives me the man, for Mr. Lyon is so penurious
that he will marry me rather than pay the amount I claim.
With him, he has so won my whole being, even in poverty
I would feel richer than to live without him the possessor
of millions!"</p>

<p>In delivering this eloquent peroration, Mrs. Winslow in
reality rose upon a chair, and, figuratively, upon the giddy
altitude of her dignity, and tossing back her head, elevating
her eyebrows, looking peculiarly fierce with her great
gray eyes, and flinging the back of her right hand into the
palm of her left with quick, ringing strokes, delighted her
audience of operatives, and male and female Spiritualists,
who on this occasion crowded the reception-room and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>
cheered their hostess as she descended from her improvised
rostrum to order something to refill the glasses
which had been enthusiastically emptied to her overwhelming
success.</p>

<p>When business was dull with the woman, she would be
certain to retain the company of the detectives, as it
seemed that she was beginning to avoid being left alone
as much as possible, and would, under no circumstances,
allow them both to be absent at the same time. Though
ordinarily careful of, and close with, her money, to keep
my men at home on these, to her, dreary evenings, she
would send for cigars, liquor, and choice fruits, and after
considerable urging they would remain, when the conversation
would invariably turn upon the Winslow-Lyon case,
or some incident in the fair plaintiff's eventful life, which
the gentlemen as invariably listened to with the closest
interest and attention.</p>

<p>On one occasion Spiritualism was being discussed, when
Mrs. Winslow touched on her early history, and the revelation
then made to her which in after-life convinced her
of the possession of supernatural powers. Her father had
had several boxes of honey stolen from his bee-hives,
when she was but a little girl. Search was made for them
in every possible direction, but no trace of them could be
found, whereupon she conveniently went into a trance,
the first she had ever experienced, continuing in that
state several hours, and finally awakening from it terribly
exhausted. But the trance brought the honey, for a
wonderful vision came upon her, wherein spirit-forms appeared
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>clothed in overwhelming radiance, and, after caressing
her spiritual form for some time, and making her
realize that she was an accepted child of Light, pointed
their dazzling celestial fingers towards an old hollow
stump standing at the side of the road leading towards
town. So powerful and penetrating was the light which
radiated from these spirits that it seemed to permeate the
stump, leaving its form perfect as ever, but making it
wholly translucent, so that she could see the boxes of
honey piled up within the stump as clearly as though she
had been standing beside it and it had been made of glass.
She gave this information to her father, who ridiculed the
revelation, but was both curious and desirous of getting
the honey, and went to the old stump, where he found the
boxes uninjured and piled in precisely the same manner
as described by his precocious child; all of which was related
as if thoroughly believed&mdash;as it doubtless was&mdash;in a
voice as hollow and mysterious as the stump itself, while
the operatives preserved the utmost gravity and decorum,
and impressed her in every way with their belief in her
varied and wonderful power.</p>

<p>Her affection for Bristol continued for a few weeks
unabated, and her most powerful arts were used in endeavoring
to compel him to reciprocate it. These attempts
went as far as a naturally lewd and naturally
shrewd woman dare go&mdash;so far, in fact, that in one and
the last instance they became absurdly ridiculous. There
was no bolt upon the door of either of their sleeping-rooms,
and, besides, it was necessary for Bristol to either<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>
retire first or step into Fox's room for a little chat, or a
sociable smoke, as Mrs. Winslow had an unpleasant and
persistent habit of disrobing for the night in the reception-room.</p>

<p>One evening, after Mrs. Winslow had given a select
seance to a few admiring friends, including my detectives,
Bristol had hurried off to bed, being tired of the mummery,
and after being obliged to listen for some time to
her tumblings and tappings about the room, had finally
fallen into a peaceful doze of a few minutes' duration,
when he was awakened by that undefinable yet irresistibly
increasing sense of some sort of a presence, which
often takes from one the power of expression, or action,
but intensifies the mind's faculties. The gas in the reception-room
had been turned low, and his door had been
softly opened. The rooms were quite dark, but the light
from the street-lamps were sufficient to show him the
plump outlines of a form which he felt sure that if it had
had an orthodox amount of clothing upon it he could
recognize. It certainly seemed to be the form of a
woman, and her long, dishevelled black hair fell all about
her shoulders and below her waist, while her <i>robe de nuit</i>
trailed behind her with fear-inspiring, tremulous rustlings.
On came the robust ghost, and in the weird gloaming
which filled the apartment, he saw the mysterious thing
moving towards him, and in a sort of frenzy of excitement
yelled:</p>

<p>"Who's that?"</p>

<p>No answer; but the slow, firm pace of the apparition<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>
came nearer to Bristol's bedside, and he partially rose
upon his knees as if to defend himself.</p>

<p>"Say!&mdash;you!" shouted Bristol, "get&mdash;get out of
here!"</p>

<p>But the ghostly figure came on as resistless as fate until
it reached his bedside. By this time he had risen to his
feet and was edging along the wall to escape, when to his
horror he saw the spectre bound into the bed he had so
expeditiously vacated and reach for him with a very business-like
grasp which he nimbly eluded, and with a series
of bounds and scrambles reached the floor. He stood
where he had struck for a moment, addressing some very
decided and italicized remarks to the lively ghost in his
bed, and then, in one grand burst of virtuous indignation,
made an impetuous dive at the figure, caught it by one of
its very plump arms, brought the ghost from the bed with
a mighty effort, and securing its left ear with his right
hand, trotted the animated shadow out of his room and
into the reception-room right up to the pier-glass, and then
turning on one of the jets at its side, said to the magnificent
ghost, in a voice husky from excitement and rage:</p>

<p>"Woman! if you ever do that thing again, I'll&mdash;I'll&mdash;aren't
you ashamed of yourself, Mrs. Winslow?"</p>

<p>At the sound of her name, and after a few moments'
apparently bewildered reflection, Mrs. Winslow opened
her eyes, which had previously remained closed, and in an
affectedly startled way gasped:</p>

<p>"Oh! where am I? what <em>have</em> you been trying to do
with me, Mr. Bristol?"</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p><p>To have seen the couple thus in the full gaslight before
the pier-glass, which both reflected and intensified the odd
situation&mdash;the woman, held to the mirror so that she might
more startlingly view the result of her gauzy pretence at
somnambulism, and the man, in his night-shirt, his limp
night-cap dangling from his neck upon his shoulder, the
ring of stubby gray hair around his head raised by excitement
until it almost hid the glistening baldness above, his
legs bare below the knees, but with a face so full of virtuous
resentment at the scandalous and shallow scheme of
the woman to implicate him in something disgraceful, that
his uprightness clothed him as with fine raiment&mdash;would
have been to have witnessed the apotheosis of sublimely
triumphant virtue and the defeat of shame.</p>

<p>"What have <em>I</em> been trying to do with <em>you</em>?" shouted
the now enraged Bristol; "that's all very fine; but what
have <em>you</em> been trying to do with <em>me</em>, madam?"</p>

<p>"Why, didn't I ever tell you that I often walk in my
sleep?" she asked with apparent innocence; and then, as
if noticing for the first time how meagrely both herself and
her companion were clad, gave vent to a half-smothered
"Oh!&mdash;shame on you, Mr. Bristol!" and broke away
from him, running into her own room, while Bristol, after
walking back and forth in a state of high nervous excitement
for some time, muttering, and shaking his fist towards
her room, finally smoothed his rebellious locks so as to
admit of the readjustment of his night-cap, and trotted
fiercely to bed, never more to be disturbed by sleep-walking
female Spiritualists.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p><p>There was nothing in all this save a quite common and
silly attempt on the part of the adventuress to get some
of the hard-earned money of which she thought he was
possessed, and it disgusted her that he was no more
appreciative than to look upon her charms, that had set
the heads of so many other men all awhirl, with such a
cool and impressionless regard for them.</p>

<p>This latter fact bothered her probably fully as much as
in not being able to get at his bank account, and she finally
settled into a sort of suspicious dislike of him, and turned
her attention to Fox, who, being a quiet sort of a fellow,
with less brusqueness than Bristol, was not so well fitted
to keep her at arm's length, and was consequently immediately
the recipient of her torrent-like attentions, caresses,
and confidence.</p>

<p>A book-keeper was the next thing to a retired banker&mdash;sometimes
even better off, Mrs. Winslow thought; and, believing
that Fox was the book-keeper he represented himself
to be, she conceived the idea of travelling during the
pendency of the suit, and gave Fox glowing accounts of
the vast sums of money they could make if she only had
so presentable a man as he for a sort of agent, manager,
and protector.</p>

<p>One afternoon Fox came in early, and said that as he
was suffering severely from headache he had been excused
from his duties, and had come home for rest. He passed
into his own room and laid down upon his bed, where he
was immediately followed by the woman, who threw herself
passionately into his arms, declaring that he was the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span>
only man whom she had ever really and truly loved, and
terminated her expressions of ardor by a proposition that
he should "get hold of a big pile down there to the
store," as she expressed it, and fly to some quiet spot
where they might revel in love and all that the term
implies.</p>

<p>Had he been a book-keeper instead of what he was,
and able to secure any large sum of money, she would
have probably so bedevilled him that he would have become
a criminal for life for the sake of gratifying his passion
and her demands, and in a week after she would
have had nine-tenths of the money, and Fox would have
been a penniless fugitive from justice.</p>

<p>He had more trouble than Bristol in dispossessing the
mind of the adventuress of the idea that he was not the
man to allow her to become his Delilah; but when this was
done, and she disgustedly realized that not all men were
ready to sell themselves body and soul for her embraces,
while she was indignant and suspicious, yet a sort of easy
confidence was established between the mysterious three,
which brought out a good many strong points in her character,
and at the same time led to the securing of a large
amount of evidence against her. In fact, it seemed that
so soon as she thoroughly understood the, to her, novel
situation of being in constant contact with two men who,
though probably no better than average men, were still
from the nature of their business compelled to be above
reproach in all their association with her, her self-assertion
and consciousness of power, which she had been able to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>
assert over nearly every man with whom she came in
contact, in a measure left her, and she became, at least to
my operatives, an ordinary woman, whose inherent vileness,
low cunning, and splendid physical perfection, were
her only distinguishing characteristics. This was all natural
enough, for I had compelled these men to be her
almost constant companions, and as they had been with
her long enough to drive away any superfluous constraint,
and she had found both of them unassailable, though
sociable and agreeable, her conversation, which chiefly
concerned herself, became as utterly devoid of decency
as her life had been, so that no incident of rehearsed romance
of herself lost any of its piquancy by unnecessary
assumption of modesty in its narration.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XX.</h2>

<div class="chapdesc"><p>A Female Spiritualist's Ideas of Political and Social Economy.&mdash;The
Weaknesses of Judges.&mdash;Legal Acumen of the Adventuress.&mdash;An
unfriendly Move.&mdash;Harcout attacked.&mdash;Lilly Nettleton and the
Rev. Mr. Bland again together.&mdash;A Whirlwind.</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">O</span>NE evening, after Mrs. Winslow had had a very
busy day with her spiritualistic customers, which
had become quite unusual, she showed herself to be more
than ordinarily communicative, undoubtedly on account
of the spirits which had kept her such close company,
and at once started in upon an edifying explanation of
her political views, and confided to Bristol and Fox, as
illustrative of her high political influence, that certain
officers of the Government only held their lease of office
through her leniency.</p>

<p>From this she verged into political and social economy,
stating her earnest belief to be that every man should
have a military education, and that if they were found to
be unfit physically to withstand the rigors of a military
life, they should be immediately condemned to death,
and thus be summarily disposed of. And so, too, with
women. There should be appointed a capable examining
board, and wherever a woman was found wanting in
physical ability to meet every demand made upon her by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>
her affinities through life, she should also be instantly deprived
of existence. She maintained that there should be
a continuous and eternal natural selection of the best of
these mental and physical conditions, just the same as
the stock-raiser bred and inbred the finest animals to
secure a still finer type, and that all persons, male or
female, failing to reach a certain fit standard of perfection
in this regard, should be condemned to death. She
would have no marriage save that sanctioned by the
supreme love of one eternal moment; and shamelessly
claimed that passion was the real base of all love, and
that, consequently, it was but a farce on either justice or
purity that men and women should be by law condemned
to lives of miserable companionship. In this connection
she held that not half the men and women were fit to
live, and were she the world's ruler she would preside at
the axe and the block half of her waking hours.</p>

<p>These sentiments were quite in keeping with her
expressions concerning the late war, her gratification at
Lincoln's assassination, and her threats that she had President
Johnson in her power through her knowledge of
some transactions in Tennessee. This was, of course, all
silly talk, but it showed the woman's tendencies and disposition,
and enabled Bristol and Fox to gradually lead
her into narrations of portions of her own career during
and after the war.</p>

<p>She boasted of her ability in fastening herself upon a
command, or military post, by getting some one of the
leading officers in her power so they dare not drive her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>
beyond the lines, and then, when the soldiers were paid
off, getting them within her apartments, drugging them,
robbing them, and finally securing their arrest for absence
without leave. She claims that in this way she often
made over five hundred dollars daily, and would then buy
drafts on northern banks, not daring to keep the thousands
of dollars about her which would frequently accrue.</p>

<p>Interspersed with these narratives were numberless tales
of adventure wherein Mrs. Winslow, under her <i>aliases</i>
of the different periods referred to, had been the heroine,
and where her shrewdness and daring, she wished my
operatives to understand, had brought utter dismay to
each of her opponents, all of which had for its point and
moral that she was not a person to be trifled with, as Mr.
Lyon would eventually ascertain to his sorrow.</p>

<p>To more thoroughly impress this, in another instance
the question of being watched and annoyed by Lyon or
his agents arose, when she insisted to Bristol that Fox was
a detective, and to Fox that Bristol was one, and then
abruptly accused them both of the same offence, expressing
great indignity at the assumed outrage; and when they
had succeeded in partially pacifying her, she turned on
them savagely, saying that they had better bear in mind
that she did not care whether they were detectives or
not; that she was a pure woman&mdash;an innocent woman;
but still, she wanted not only them, if they <em>were</em>
detectives, but all the world, to understand that she was
capable of taking care of herself, whoever might assail
her. Evidently the good legal mind which the woman<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>
certainly possessed had reverted to her criminal acts in
other portions of the country, for she asserted very violently
that, should Lyon undertake to have her conveyed
to any other State upon a requisition to answer to
trumped-up charges for the purpose of weakening her
case, she would shoot the first man that attempted her
arrest; and that, if finally overpowered by brute force,
she would still circumvent him by securing a continuance
of the trial at Rochester, and make that sort of persecution
itself tell against "the gray-headed old sinner," as
she most truthfully called him.</p>

<p>She further remarked, with a meaning leer, that she
never had any trouble with the judges. They were
generally old men, she had noticed, and her theory was
that old men, even if they were judges, had a quiet way of
looking after the interests of as fine-appearing women as
she was; and even if they did not have, her powers of
divination were so wonderful that she could at any time
go into the trance state and ascertain everything necessary
to direct her to success, giving as an illustration a
circumstance where a certain St. Louis daily newspaper
had grossly libelled her, whereupon she had sued its proprietors
for ten thousand dollars, retaining two lawyers to
attend to her case. When it came to trial her counsel
failed to appear. With the aid of the spirits she grasped
the situation at once, and, showing Judge Moody a
receipt for attorneys' fees amounting to two hundred
dollars which she had paid them, pleaded personally for a
continuance until the next day, which he granted, showing
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span>her conclusively that he was in sympathy with her.
She then went home, and, again calling on the spirits,
they revealed to her that she should win a victory.</p>

<p>So she read all the papers in the case, in order to acquaint
herself with the leading points, and then subpœnaed
her witnesses. Having everything well prepared,
she proceeded to the court-room the next day, and on the
case being called, the spirit of George Washington instantly
appeared. It had a beautiful bright flame about
its head, and floated about promiscuously through the
upper part of the room. She was certain that it was a
good omen, but it was a long time before she could get
any definite materialization from the blessed ministering
angel from the other side of the river. After a time, however,
George's kind eyes beamed upon her with unmistakable
friendliness, and the nimbus, or flame, that shone
from his venerable head in all directions, finally shot in a
single incandescent jet towards the head of the judge;
and immediately after, the gauzy Father of his Country
placed his hands upon the former's head, as if in benediction.
This was a heavenly revelation to her that the judge
was with her, as afterwards proved true.</p>

<p>George stayed there until the trial was ended, which she
conducted in her own behalf, constantly feeling that she
herself was being upheld by strong, though invisible hands.
When the jury was being impanelled, the flame, with an
angry, red appearance, pointed to those men who were
prejudiced against her, to whom she objected, and they
were invariably thrown out of the panel; while all through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>
the trial the judge insisted that there should be no advantage
taken of her, if she had been forsaken by her counsel;
and with the aid of Washington she won a splendid
victory, securing a judgment of one thousand dollars,
which was paid; and there are scores of lawyers and
newspaper men in St. Louis who will remember this case,
that know of the woman and her almost ceaseless litigation
in that action, and who will also recollect that she did
get a thousand dollars from one of the leading newspapers
there.</p>

<p>Her cunning and shamelessness were largely commented
upon at the time; but it was reserved for Mrs.
Winslow to inform the world, through my operatives, that
George Washington ever descended to this grade of pettifogging.
It can only be accounted for through a knowledge
of that peculiar system of religion which gives to the
very dregs of society a mysterious, and therefore terrible
power, whether assumed or otherwise, over its better elements
for their annoyance, persecution, and downfall.</p>

<p>There was also a poetical and religious element in the
woman's composition which very well accorded with her
superstitiousness. This was quite strongly developed by
a liberal supply of liquor, which she never failed to use
whenever she became worried and excited over the coming
trial, both of which begat in her impulses for certain
lines of conduct exactly the reverse of those counselled
by her more quiet, calculating reflections.</p>

<p>One pleasant October day, when suffering from a peculiarly
severe attack of romantic fancies, she conceived the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>
idea of breaking through all her stern resolves relative to
not seeing Lyon, and making one more effort to win him
back to her altogether, or so affect him by her fascinating
appearance that he would be glad to settle with her at any
reasonable figure he might name&mdash;say twenty-five or fifty
thousand dollars.</p>

<p>It was a pleasant fancy, and Bristol and Fox were exceedingly
interested as they noticed her excited preparations
for her expedition of conquest. She sang like a bird,
and the bright color came into her face as she tripped
about, busied in the unusual employment. All the forenoon
she dressed and undressed, posing and balancing
before the pier-glass like a <i>danseuse</i> at practice, studying
the effect of different colors, shades, and shapes, until at
last, having decided in what dress she should appear the
most bewitching, she retired for a long sleep, so as to rest
her features and give her eyes their old-time lustre.</p>

<p>At about two o'clock she awakened, and, after dressing
in a most elaborate and elegant manner, at once started
out upon her novel expedition to the Arcade.</p>

<p>The Arcade in Rochester is a distinct and somewhat
noted place in that city. It has nearly the width of the
average street, and extends the distance of a short block&mdash;from
Main Street to Exchange Place&mdash;being nearly in
the geographical, as well as in the actual business center
of the city. It is covered with a heavy glass roofing,
filled on either side by numerous book and notion stalls,
brokers' offices, and the offices of wealthy manufacturers
whose business requires a down-town office, and is also, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>
it has been from almost time immemorial, the location of
the post-office; so that, as the thoroughfare leads directly
from the Union Depot to the uptown hotels, it is constantly
thronged with people, and is the spot in that city
where the largest crowd may be collected at the slightest
possible notice.</p>

<p>To Mrs. Winslow's credit it should be said that up to
this time she had kept so remarkably quiet that public
scandal had nearly died away, and as she had gone into
the different newspaper offices with some of the wicked
old light burning in her eyes, and "warned" them concerning
libelling her, both she and her suit were no longer
causing much remark; but now, when she was seen majestically
bearing down Main street, with considerable fire
in her fine eyes, determination in her compressed lips,
and the inspiration of resolve in every feature of her handsome
though masculine face, there were many who,
knowing the woman, felt sure there was to be a scene,
and by the time she had turned from Main street into the
Arcade quite a number were unconsciously following her.
After she had got into the Arcade she attracted a great
deal of attention in sweeping back and forth through that
thoroughfare, as in passing Lyon's offices she gave her
head that peculiarly ludicrous inclination that all women
affect when they are particularly anxious to be noticed,
but also particularly anxious to not have it noticed that
they wish to be noticed; and continued her promenade,
each time brushing the windows of Lyon's offices with her
ample skirts, and growing more and more indignant that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span>
nobody appeared to be interested in her exhibition, save
the lookers-on within the Arcade, who were increasing
rapidly in numbers.</p>

<p>This seemed to exasperate the woman beyond measure,
and finally, after casting a hurried glance or two
through the half-open door, she apparently nerved herself
for the worst and made a plunge into the office, while the
crowd closed about the door.</p>

<p>Bristol had of course felt it his duty to inform Mr. Lyon
of the fair lady's intended demonstration, and the latter
had judiciously found it convenient to transact some important
business in another part of the city on that afternoon;
but the elegant Harcout had bravely volunteered
to throw himself into the breach and bear the brunt of the
battle&mdash;in other words, sacrifice himself for his friend, and
was consequently sitting at Lyon's desk behind the railing,
which formed a sort of a private office at one side of the
general office, as Mrs. Winslow, pale with rage and
humiliated to exasperation, came sweeping into the
room.</p>

<p>"Ah, how d'ye do, ma'am?" said Harcout blandly, but
never looking up from his desk, at which he pretended to
be very busily engaged. "Bless my soul, you seem to be
very much excited!"</p>

<p>"Sir!" said Mrs. Winslow, interrupting him violently,
"I want none of your 'madams' or 'bless my souls.' I
want Lyon, you puppy!"</p>

<p>"Ah, exactly, exactly," replied Mr. Lyon's protector
with the greatest apparent placidity, though with a shade<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>
of nervousness in his voice; "but you see, my dear, you
can't have him!"</p>

<p>It was not the first time this man had called this woman
"my dear," nor was it the first time he had attempted to
beat back her overpowering passion. Had he known it
as Mr. Harcout, or had she recognized him as Mrs.
Winslow, it would have made the interview more dramatic
than it was&mdash;perhaps a thread of tragedy might have crept
in; as it was, however, she only savagely retorted that
she wouldn't have him, but she would see him if he was
in, whether or no.</p>

<p>"Well, my dear good woman," continued Harcout
soothingly, but edging as far from the railing and his
caller as possible, "he isn't in, and that settles that.
Further, you can't have, or see, him <em>or</em> his money, and
that settles that. So you had best quietly go home like
a good woman and settle all this," concluded Harcout
winningly and yet impressively, and with the tone of a
Christian counsellor.</p>

<p>The crowd laughed and jeered at this grave and sarcastic
advice, and it seemed to madden her. Raising her
closed sunshade and hissing, "<em>I'll</em> settle this!" she
rushed towards Harcout, struck at him fiercely, following
up the attack with quick and terrific blows, which completely
demolished the parasol and drove him nimbly from
place to place in his efforts to avoid the effects of her
wrath.</p>

<p>For the next few moments there was a small whirlwind
in Lyon's offices. The railing was too high for Mrs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span>
Winslow to leap, or she certainly would have scaled it.
Harcout could not retreat but a certain distance, or he
certainly would have sought safety in flight. So the
whirlwind was created by rapid and savage leaps of Mrs.
Winslow, as if to jump the railing and fall bodily upon
her victim, and at every bound the woman made, the shattered
parasol waved aloft and came down with keen certainty
and stinging swiftness, upon such portions of the
gilt-edged gentleman as could be most conveniently
reached.</p>

<p>It is difficult to realize what the woman would have
done in her mad passion, had not a lucky circumstance
occurred. She and Harcout had never met since the
time when, in the face of her robbery of him, she had unblushingly
compelled him to wed her to the credulous
Dick Hosford at the Michigan Exchange Hotel in Detroit;
and had she now recognized him as the villain who had
made her what she was, it is a question whether she
would not have made a finish of him there and then.
But some one in the crowd raised the cry of "Police!"
which sobered her at once, and, giving the tattered remnant
of her sunshade a wicked pitch into Harcout's face,
she turned quickly, shot into the Arcade as the crowd
made way for her and quickened her speed by wild jibes
and taunts, until she had reached the street, where, in a
dazed, hunted sort of way, she hailed a passing cab,
sprang into it, and was driven rapidly away.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXI.</h2>

<div class="chapdesc"><p>Mrs. Winslow, under the Influence of "Spirits" of an earthly Order,
becomes romantic, religious, and poetical.&mdash;A Trance.&mdash;Detective
Bristol also proves a Poet.&mdash;A Drama to be written.</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">W</span>HEN the evening came and Mrs. Winslow came
with it, she was observed to be in a high state of
nervous and vinous excitement, and at such times she
contrived to inaugurate a series of actions which proved
not only interesting, but illustrative of her strange
character.</p>

<p>She declared to Bristol and Fox that the Lord was
hardening Lyon's heart as in the olden times the heart of
Pharaoh was hardened, so that he should rush upon his
fated disgrace as the Egyptian king rushed upon his fate
while forcing the children of Israel into deliverance, and
destruction upon himself; and like the unrelenting Mrs.
Clennam in "Little Dorrit," had at command any number
of scriptural parallels to prove the righteousness of
her sin. This sort of blasphemy is the most pitiable imaginable,
and to hear the woman in her semi-intoxicated,
semi-crazed condition, mingling her vile catch-words with
scraps of spiritualistic sayings, snatches of holy songs,
couplets of roystering ballads, and crowning the hideousness
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span>of the whole with countless Bible quotations, was to
be in the presence of supreme garrulousness, temperamental
religious frenzy, and superstitious vileness.</p>

<p>It appeared that after she had escaped from the excitement
she had created in the Arcade, she had been driven
to the apartments of every clairvoyant of note in the city
and had a "sitting" with each. In her excited condition,
and being noted for having plenty of money, it was both
easy to rob her and secure what was uppermost in her
mind. Consequently, it was revealed to her by every
medium that Lyon would settle with her for a large sum
of money.</p>

<p>One medium averred that in her vision Lyon was seen,
as it were, bending a suppliant at her feet, and, at the last
moment, admiring her character as much as fearing the
nature of the testimony he knew she could bring against
him, he declared his love for her and begged that they
might be married in open court.</p>

<p>Another depicted the sorrows she would be obliged to
endure before her affairs culminated. She would be
watched, annoyed, harassed; but her way would be well
watched by the spirit-forms which were evidently floating
around promiscuously to protect the pests of society;
and, whether she got the man or not, she should share his
fortune. This much could be surely promised.</p>

<p>Another was wonderfully favored with divine "spirit
light" upon the subject&mdash;so favored, indeed, that time
without number her other-life had insensibly and unconsciously
wandered away in search of correct information<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span>
regarding the result of the Winslow-Lyon suit, and, without
her volition or bidding, it had delved into the mysteries
for her suffering sister. She could assure her
suffering sister, the clairvoyant said, that Lyon was spiritually
at her feet. All the trouble had arisen between
them from Mrs. Winslow's standing upon a higher spiritual
plane than Mr. Lyon. He, as was natural to man,
had more of the sensual element beclouding his spirit-life.
Now, pleaded the clairvoyant, couldn't she adjust an
average between them? She was certain&mdash;yes, the spirits,
who never lie, had positively revealed to her that all that
was needed was some one to properly discover each of
these affinities to the other. In any case, all would eventually
be well, and there was peace, prosperity, and a large
amount of money in waiting for her.</p>

<p>This sort of absurdity was related by Mrs. Winslow to
an unlimited extent that evening, as the three sipped the
liquor she had provided, and she insisted with great fervor
that all these revelations strongly corroborated the light
she herself had received on the same subject.</p>

<p>As a long pause ensued after one of these heated asseverations,
Bristol ventured to ask how she had been enlightened
concerning the matter.</p>

<p>Raising her flushed face towards the ceiling, then lifting
her right arm above her head and holding it there for
a moment, she allowed it to slowly descend with a coiling,
serpentine motion, when she burst into a sudden ecstasy
of speech, movement and feature, and partly as in answer
to the inquiry, and partly as if struck with a swift and irresistible
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span>inspiration, she said in a low, unearthly voice,
and with weird effect:</p>

<p>"Yes, yes, I hear your angel voices calling; I see
your beautiful forms; I feel your tender fingers touching
my aching head; I am listening to your sweet, soft whispers.
Ah! what is it you say?&mdash;yes, yes, yes! You <em>are</em>
with me. You will watch over and guard me. You will
ward off the evil influences that surround me, and despite
the darkness which envelops me, even as the glorious sun
leaps from his couch of crimson and with his burnished
lances drives the grim hosts of shadows before him with
the speed of the light!&mdash;What! are you now leaving?"</p>

<p>Here Mrs. Winslow gasped and kicked with her pretty
feet alarmingly.</p>

<p>"What&mdash;what is that?&mdash;that rosy, effulgent light that
fills all space? Ah, yes! I see they beckon for me to
look up, to not be cast down or despair. I <em>will</em> look up.
See! in their hands are long, feathery wands with which
they sweep the flaming sky, while across its burnished
arc I see, yes, I see in letters of purple that oft-recurring
legend&mdash;<em>Twenty-five thousand dollars!</em>"</p>

<p>Now, although I am not arguing this question of Spiritualism,
and am only giving to the public the history so
far as I dare of an extraordinary woman and practical
Spiritualist, I cannot resist asking the question, or putting
forward the theory, which, during the progress of this case
particularly, and a thousand times before and since in a
general way, has irresistibly forced itself into my mind.
I give it in all fairness, I am sure, and only with a view<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>
that it may dispel certain feelings of squeamishness with
which a good many people approach the subject to investigate
it. I may be accused of presenting it with too
little delicacy; but the public must recollect that the
nature of my business compels me <em>to get at the truth</em> of
things, and to do that, matters must in a majority of
cases be handled without gloves. This is my only excuse,
and perhaps it may be a good defence; but in any
event this is the question: Has there ever been a so-called
Spiritual "manifestation" that has not subsequently
been explained as trickery by persons more credible
of belief than its medium or originator? After that
has been answered in the affirmative, for it can be answered
in no other way, all there is left of this Spiritualistic
structure is, how account for such exhibitions as that
given by Mrs. Winslow and those given by others of her
craft, even granting their personal purity, which is undoubtedly
exceptional?</p>

<p>This is the question which has oftenest come into my
mind in my necessarily almost constant study of these
people, and the answers, though continually varying, have
all eventually forced upon me the conviction that this religion,
as it is sacrilegiously called, only takes hold of
people of abnormal or diseased temperaments&mdash;people
diseased in mind, in morals, in body, or in all; and if
that is true, as I sincerely believe it to be, the dignifying
of a disease or infirmity as a religion is simply an absurdity
too foolish for even ridicule.</p>

<p>She sat rigid as a church-spire for a few moments, as if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span>
the sight of so much money, even if only in purple letters
upon a burnished sky, had transfixed her, and then, after
a little hysterical struggling, became as limp as a camp-meeting
tent after a thunder-storm; and after a few
passes of her long, white and deft fingers over her eyes
in a scared way, asked, "Oh, gentlemen, where&mdash;where
am I?"</p>

<p>"On the boundaries of the spirit-land," gravely replied
Bristol, pushing the bottle of liquor to the side of the
table.</p>

<p>The woman was certainly exhausted, for she had
worked herself into such a state mentally&mdash;precisely the
same as in all similar demonstrations, whether visions are
claimed to be seen, or not&mdash;that she was completely enervated
physically, and said in a really grateful tone,
"Thank you, Mr. Bristol," and, pouring out a large portion
of liquor, tossed it off at one gulp, like a well-practised
bar-room toper.</p>

<p>"Yes, yes," she continued languidly, "I have a certain
promise of eventually being victorious. When the good
spirits are with one, there's no cause for fear."</p>

<p>"Not the slightest," affirmed Fox sympathetically.</p>

<p>"But it seems," replied Mrs. Winslow in a discouraged,
desolate tone, "as though everybody's hand is raised
against me&mdash;as though the dreary days pass so slowly&mdash;and
that I haven't a true friend in the world!"</p>

<p>"My dear Mrs. Winslow," interrupted Bristol in a
calm, fatherly, even affectionate tone, "that melancholy's
all very fine; but we are your friends, and we will stand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>
by you through thick and thin to the end of the suit. A
few fast friends, you know, are better than a thousand
sunny-weather friends."</p>

<p>"Oh, yes; oh, yes," returned the woman in a tone of
voice that said, "I can't argue this, but I somehow <em>know</em>
you are both betraying me," and then, closing her eyes,
and clasping her hands tightly together, sang in a weird
contralto voice, cracked and unsteady from her excitement
and exhaustion, some stanza of an evidently religious
nature, the burden of which was:</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i00">"I am weary, weary waiting<br /></span>
<span class="i2">While the shadows deeper fall;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I am weary, weary waiting<br /></span>
<span class="i2">For some holy voice's call!"<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p>Undoubtedly the song, though desecrated by the singer,
the place, and the occasion, was a wailing plaint from the
depths of the woman's soul, for moments of utter desolation
and absolute remorse come to even such as she.</p>

<p>"Now," said Bristol, becoming suddenly interested,
"I'm something of a poet myself. When the seat of
government was moved from Quebec to Ottawa, I constructed
a lampoon on the government that set all Canada
awhirl. Really, Mrs. Winslow, I'm surprised at your
poetical nature."</p>

<p>"Poetical nature?" repeated the woman excitedly.
"Why! that is what Lyon loved in me most. My trance-sittings
are wonderful exhibitions of poetical power. In<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span>
that state I can compose poems of great length and
power."</p>

<p>The gentlemen of course seemed incredulous at this
statement, and challenged her to a test of her poetical
trance-power, which she instantly accepted, the wager
being a quart of the best brandy that could be had in the
city of Rochester.</p>

<p>Putting herself in position, she asked: "What subject?"
Bristol replied, "Lyon," when she struggled a
little in her chair, kicked the floor a little with her heels,
rubbed up her eyes, gasped, and after a moment of rest
began to incant in a kind of monotone tenor:</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i00">"Oh, Lyon, Lyon! don't you run;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The suit's begun; we'll have our fun<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Before we're done. I'll tell your son<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That I have won, although you shun<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Your darling one!"<br /></span>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<span class="i00">"Oh, Lyon, pray, why speed away?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To fight a woman is but play.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Although you're old, and bald, and gray,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Do right by your Amanda J.&mdash;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">You'll soon be clay!"<br /></span>
</div>
</div>

<p>Amanda J. Winslow, for this was the woman's assumed
name in full, might have continued in this divine strain
for an indefinite period, had not the operatives burst into
loud and prolonged laughter at her ludicrous appearance,
which so disgusted the woman that, though communicating
with celestial spheres, as she assumed to be, and undoubtedly
was doing as much as any of her craft ever did,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>
she jumped up with a bound, savagely told the men they
were a brace of fools, and with a lively remark or two,
which had something very like an oath in it, went to bed,
leaving the men to finish the bottle and the poetry as
they saw fit.</p>

<p>Mrs. Winslow was a thorough church-goer, and distributed
the favor of her attendance among the orthodox
churches and the "meetings" of the members of her own
faith, quite fairly&mdash;perhaps, as was natural, giving the
Washington Hall Sunday evening Spiritualistic lectures
a slight preference; and soon after the Arcade affair,
which had launched her into poetry, she returned to the
rooms one Sunday evening, declaring that all her evil
spirits had left her, and that her former passionate love
for Lyon had also departed, her only desire now being
for his money.</p>

<p>To show how thoroughly she had been dispossessed of
her evil spirits, she remarked that she now thoroughly
hated Lyon, but it would not do to let this appear on
trial, or she would lose the sympathy of the jury. Every
effort should now be bent towards compelling him to divide
his wealth with her, whom he had so deeply
wronged. There should be no compromise; she would
not even be led to the altar by him now. She would
have from him what would most annoy him, and that was
his money.</p>

<p>Having resolved on this, the darkness that surrounded
her was dispelled and the spirits of light rallied as a sort
of standing army; and in this beneficent condition she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>
wished to either go into the country to recuperate for
a few weeks, or seek the retirement of Fox's room and
there expend her superfluous brain and spirit power upon
a play to be entitled "His Breach of Promise." To this
end she proposed removing the elegant furnishings of her
apartments and storing them in a spare room, giving out
to callers that she was absent from the city, and then,
after having secured Fox's room, she would be able to
burn the midnight oil unmolested so long as her inspiration
might continue.</p>

<p>She also favored Fox and Bristol with a sketch of the
play, which was to be a sort of spectacular comedy-drama,
which, according to the lady's description, would contain
certainly seven acts of five scenes each, and would be preceded
by a prologue which would play at least an hour;
in fact, it seemed that the great play "His Breach of
Promise" was to be constructed on the Chinese plan, to
be continued indefinitely, and admission only to be
secured in the form of course tickets. Outside of these
great aids to the popularity of the play, it was to have the
additional startling and novel attractions of representations
of her first meeting with Lyon, his regret because
she was married, his copious tears whenever in her
presence, his securing her divorce, the death of Lyon's
wife, and every manner of pathetic and ludicrous incident
connected with the case; how they each wooed and won
the other, including a grand transformation scene typical
of Lyon's subsequent treachery, and her reward of virtue
in a fifty thousand dollar verdict for damages.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXII.</h2>

<div class="chapdesc"><p>Mr. Pinkerton decides to favor Mrs. Winslow with a Series of Annoyances.&mdash;The
mysterious Package.&mdash;The Detectives labor under
well-merited Suspicion.&mdash;"My God! what's that?"&mdash;The deadly
Phial.&mdash;This Time a Mysterious Box.&mdash;Its suggestive Contents.&mdash;"The
Thing she was."&mdash;Tabitha, Amanda, and Hannah assaulted.&mdash;A
Punch and Judy Show.</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>HE reports which I had for some time received
daily regarding Mrs. Winslow's behavior satisfied
me that the delay in reaching the Winslow-Lyon case&mdash;which
was at the bottom of the docket of the fall term,
and on account of a press of court business had been put
over to the winter term&mdash;the strict silence I had enjoined
upon Mr. Lyon, and the general suspicion which
possessed her of everybody and everything, were all
having the natural effect of unsettling her completely, and
I determined upon a series of surprises and annoyances
to the woman, without in any way apprising Bristol and
Fox of what was to be done; so that although they might
imagine from what source the unwelcome "materializations"
came, they would still be sufficiently uninformed
to share in the general surprise and escape the charge of
complicity.</p>

<p>I accordingly sent three additional men to Rochester<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span>
with thorough instructions and full information as to the
madam's residence and habits, with a description of her
tenants, including Bristol and Fox, who were unknown to
the operatives sent.</p>

<p>My object in doing this was a double one. I desired,
first, to test the woman's so-called spirit power; for, should
these annoyances prove of the nature of a persecution,
she and her friends, the Spiritualists, would be able to
call celestial spirits to her aid, or, better still, divine from
whence the persecution came, and compel its discontinuance
by the means provided by ordinary mortals. In
case she could not do this, which was of course rather
doubtful, I knew from her superstitiousness and the guilty
fear possessed by every criminal, which she largely shared,
that she would be quite likely to either make some confessions
which would implicate her in further blackmailing
operations, or force her into a line of conduct agreeing
perfectly with her true character, and which would compel
her to show herself thoroughly to the public; and
further, I think I must confess to a slight desire to assist
a little in punishing her, after I had become so fully aware
of her villainous character.</p>

<p>Accordingly, while Mrs. Winslow was still deep in the
plot of her great drama, but before the changes suggested&mdash;which
would have made her a sort of literary nun in
Fox's room&mdash;had occurred, she was the recipient of a
large package of railway time-tables, with the farthest terminus
of each road underscored, and further called attention
to by a hand and index finger pointing towards it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span>
from Rochester, intimating that it was either desired or
demanded, on the part of somebody, that she should leave
Rochester for one of the points indicated.</p>

<p>When Bristol and Fox returned "home," as they had
come to call their lodgings, that evening, Mrs. Winslow
was at her escritoire, completely immersed in time-tables
and manuscript, and had all the air of an important author
struggling for fitting expressions with which to clothe some
suddenly inspired, though sublime idea.</p>

<p>She looked at them closely a moment, as if she would
read their very thoughts. Whether seeing anything suspicious
or not, she remarked very pointedly:</p>

<p>"Good deal of railroad rivalry nowadays, isn't there?"</p>

<p>"Yes, considerable," replied Bristol pleasantly, and
then asking, "Are you going to introduce some rival railroads
in your new play, Mrs. Winslow?"</p>

<p>"Not much!" she answered tersely.</p>

<p>"I wouldn't," replied Bristol, taking a seat near the
chandelier and pulling a paper from his pocket; "they're
dangerous."</p>

<p>Mrs. Winslow paid no attention to this, but suddenly
eyed Fox, and sharply asked:</p>

<p>"They like very much to sell through tickets, don't
they?"</p>

<p>"I believe they do&mdash;ought to pay better," he promptly
rejoined, eyeing her in return.</p>

<p>"Well," said she, after a slight pause, and as if with
something of a sigh, "it's all right, perhaps; but if
either of you should meet any railroad agent who seems<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span>
to be laboring under the delusion that I want to found a
colony in some far country, just tell him to expend his
energies in some other direction!"</p>

<p>Of course my operatives were surprised, and demanded
an explanation; but the recipient of the circulars was
quite dignified, and would only clear the matter up by
occasional little passionate bursts of confidence, as if
finding fault with them for not being able to unravel the
mystery to her. They protested they knew nothing about
the matter, and she undoubtedly believed them; but she
ventured to inform them that if anybody&mdash;mind you, anybody&mdash;supposed
they could scare her away from Rochester
by any such hint as that, they were mightily mistaken,
that's all there was about <em>that</em>.</p>

<p>My detectives allayed her fears as much as possible,
but it was plainly observable that she was really annoyed
by the occurrence. There is always a hundred times
more terror in the fear of unknown evil than in that
which we can boldly meet, and this particularly applies to
those who know they <em>deserve</em> punishment, as in Mrs.
Winslow's case.</p>

<p>The next evening they were all sitting discussing general
topics and a pint of peach brandy, and had become
exceedingly sociable, particularly over the railroad circulars,
which Fox and Bristol had by this time induced her
to regard in the light of a huge joke, or error, when the
party were suddenly startled by some object which caused
a peculiar ringing, yet deadened sound, as it struck the
partly-opened door and then bounded upon the carpet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span>
where it glisteningly rolled out of sight under the sofa
where the thoroughly-scared Mrs. Winslow sat.</p>

<p>"My God! what's that?" she screamed, rushing to the
door and peering down the staircase, as rapidly retreating
footsteps were distinctly heard; but not being able to discover
anybody, scrambled back into the room, shutting
and bolting the door behind her.</p>

<p>The woman was deathly pale, the color brought to her
face by the brandy having been driven from it as if by
some terrible blow; but it came back with her into the
room, where Bristol and Fox <em>appeared</em> nearly as frightened
as she.</p>

<p>She looked at them a moment in a dazed, stupefied
way, and then demanded: "What does this mean?"</p>

<p>"That's what I'd like to know!" returned Bristol,
hunting for his quizzers, which he had lost in his jump
from his chair. "This is all very fine, but it's pretty
plain somebody here's sent for!"</p>

<p>"And <em>I</em> don't want to go!" chimed in Fox, climbing
down from a safe position upon the <i>escritoire</i>.</p>

<p>The three looked at each other in an extremely suspicious
way, and the woman again demanded, this time
threateningly, what it all meant.</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<a href="images/234-235-lg.jpg" class="noline">
<img src="images/234-235-sm.jpg" width="400" height="258" alt="" title="" />
<span class="caption"><br /><i>The three looked at each other in an extremely suspicious way.&mdash;</i></span></a>
</div>

<p>"Something with a glitter, and it rolled under there,"
was all Bristol could tell her about it.</p>

<p>"Let's get it, whatever it is!" said Fox, with an apparent
burst of bravery and spirit.</p>

<p>So Bristol at one end and Fox at the other end of the
sofa, rolled it out with a great show of caution, while Mrs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span>
Winslow, though preserving a good position for observation,
kept nimbly out of the way.</p>

<p>"What can it be?" she persisted excitedly.</p>

<p>"A vial sealed with red wax, with a string attached,
and containing some clear liquid," said Fox, stooping to
pick it up.</p>

<p>"Don't&mdash;don't, Fox!" shouted Bristol, pushing him
back impetuously; "the devilish thing may burst and kill
us all&mdash;nitro-glycerine, you know!"</p>

<p>Mrs. Winslow shuddered, drew her elegant wrappings
about her fair shoulders, as if the thought chilled her like
the sudden opening of some cold vault, and looked appealingly
at the two men.</p>

<p>"Or might contain some deadly poison," said Fox, in
a warning tone.</p>

<p>"And the fiend who threw it in here expected the bottle
to break and the poison to murder us!" said Mrs.
Winslow indignantly.</p>

<p>"Things have come to a pretty pass when attempts like
this are made on people's lives!" said Bristol, adjusting
his spectacles and edging towards the mysterious missile.</p>

<p>"I shall move at once," stoutly affirmed Mrs. Winslow.</p>

<p>"Don't do any such thing," said Fox earnestly. "That
will only show whoever may be committing these indignities
that we are alarmed by them."</p>

<p>"We?&mdash;<em>we?</em>" repeated the adventuress, with a peculiar
accent upon the word "we." "It isn't you men that
is meant. It's <em>me</em>. This is some of that Lyon's doings.
Oh, I could cut his heart out!"</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p><p>The detectives saw that she was getting greatly excited,
and Bristol, with a view of quieting her as much as possible
for the night, picked up the vial by a string tied to
it and hung it upon a nail, remarking that he was something
of a chemist himself and didn't believe it was explosive,
and also expressed a conviction that Mrs. Winslow
should have it analyzed.</p>

<p>To this she acceded, and expressed a determination to
"get even" with the author of these outrages, in which
laudable resolve the detectives promised to assist her;
but the peach brandy seemed the only relief possible to
Mrs. Winslow for the remainder of the evening, which
was chiefly passed in wild speculations and theories concerning
the new "manifestations," which she began to fear
might be the result of jealous clairvoyants and vindictive
spiritualists, who had endeavored to blackmail both herself
and Mr. Lyon, and, failing in this, were now persecuting
her.</p>

<p>The next day Mrs. Winslow went out quietly and secured
the services of a chemist under the Osborne House,
who pronounced the contents nothing but water, which
proved a great relief to the agitated trio, but did not remove
from Mrs. Winslow's mind the anxiety and unrest
that these undesired and unlooked-for materializations
were causing.</p>

<p>About noon, after Fox and Bristol had come in from a
little stroll and they were all laughing over the scare of
the previous evening, a step was heard on the stairs, and
soon after a little man with a big box on his shoulder, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span>
a slouched hat on his head which hid his face pretty
thoroughly, came to the head of the stairs, knocked at the
door, and without waiting for an invitation to come in,
entered, and depositing the box with the remark, "For
Mrs. Winslow, from the Misses Grim," spryly sprang back,
shut the door, and clattered away down the stairs and into
the street before Mrs. Winslow could get a second look at
him, though she sprang after him, shouting, "Here!
here! come back here or I'll have you arrested!" But he
only clattered away the livelier, and she returned to the
room raging and vowing that the box contained some infernal
machine for the purpose of distributing minute portions
of her anatomy all over the city of Rochester.</p>

<p>This became more likely when Mrs. Winslow recollected
that the Misses Grim&mdash;Tabitha, Amanda, and Hannah&mdash;were
the three old maids from whom she had thought she
had secured a wealthy old banker to pluck; and though
he had proven to her a very ordinary man, somewhat infirm
from rheumatism, and a trifle quarrelsome, though
eminently virtuous and punctilious, she had never, of
course, let them know how badly she had been swindled;
and as they yet regarded their lost boarder, Bristol, as a
priceless treasure, lost to them through her perfidy, it was
no more than natural, Mrs. Winslow thought, that in their
chagrin and disappointment they should concoct some
diabolical plan to injure her.</p>

<p>But still it might not be from them. She had other
enemies, many of them, and the Misses Grim's name
might have been given to cover up some other person's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span>
misdeeds. But whatever it might be, her curiosity soon
overcame her fear, and she requested Fox to open it.</p>

<p>After securing a hammer from his room, the latter proceeded
to open the mysterious box; but after the cover
had been partially drawn and it was evident that the box
had not been delivered for the purpose of exterminating
anybody, it occurred to its fair owner that there might
be something within it not desirable for her to let the
gentlemen see, whereupon she requested them to retire;
but after Bristol had grumblingly disappeared, and Fox
had got to the door, she recalled the latter and asked
him anxiously if he would not open it for her. He
gallantly agreed to, and got down on his knees upon the
carpet and began taking off the cover.</p>

<p>"I do wonder what it can be!" said Mrs. Winslow
anxiously.</p>

<p>"I can't find anything but bran," returned Fox, digging
about the box carefully.</p>

<p>"Bran!" she exclaimed incredulously; "that box is
too heavy for bran."</p>

<p>Fox dug away for a little while longer and finally shouted,
"I've got something!"</p>

<p>"And what is that something?"</p>

<p>The question was answered by the thing itself, which
now appeared from the bottom of the box, vigorously lifted
by Fox's hand and plumped through the bran upon the
carpet.</p>

<p>"Well, what is it?" she demanded.</p>

<p>"Vegetable," said Fox tersely.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, pshaw! is <em>that</em> all?" asked the disgusted woman.</p>

<p>"Yes, that's all," he replied, after digging about in the
bran for a moment. Mrs. Winslow also satisfied herself
that it was all by searching in the bran, and the two then
proceeded to investigate the vegetable.</p>

<p>"It's a turnip, and somebody's been digging in it,"
said Mrs. Winslow.</p>

<p>"I think you are mistaken," mildly interposed Fox.
"It's something else entirely."</p>

<p>"What's this!" exclaimed the woman; "sure as I
live, a cross-bones and skull on one side, and on the
other side, 'D-e-a-d'&mdash;dead!"</p>

<p>"It isn't dead turnip!" interrupted Fox.</p>

<p>"Dead beet?" she asked musingly, a sudden crimson
flooding into her face.</p>

<p>"Shouldn't wonder," he answered.</p>

<p>Biting her lips she glided to a window. It was a cold
autumn day, and the panes rattled drearily as she seemed
to shrink and hide between them and the heavy curtains,
while the color came and went hotly in her face. It hurt
her, wounded her, showed her to be the thing she was
in a way that could never have been effected by ten thousand
innuendoes or direct charges; and she pressed her
face against the cold panes as if to force and drive away
the hideous picture that a momentarily honest glimpse of
herself had revealed to her, and continued standing
thus, buried in the memories which build remorse, until,
noticing the thing in her hand which had caused this humiliation,
she flung it violently across the room, and rushing
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span>into her sleeping-room, hastily prepared for going out,
then dashing through the reception-room, she passed into
the hall, and meeting Bristol, said:</p>

<p>"Bristol, I want you to come with me!"</p>

<p>Bristol immediately complied, but was given a lively
chase, for Mrs. Winslow was strong of limb, fleet of foot,
and, on this occasion, was impelled by a burst of spirit
which, if rightly directed, would have led a conquering
army.</p>

<p>She started directly for Main Street, and turned up that
thoroughfare at a pace which attracted considerable attention.
After rapidly walking two blocks she swept
across the street, and after having waited for Bristol to
come up with her, plunged into the little restaurant under
Washington Hall, with my operative close at her heels.</p>

<p>The sudden entrance of the couple caused a great commotion
in the quaint little eating-room, and the drowsy
customers smiled when they saw the unaccustomed form
of the woman whom the Misses Grim&mdash;Tabitha, Amanda
and Hannah&mdash;had taken no trouble to prevent being
known as her deadly enemy.</p>

<p>Tabitha, the most ancient, at once bristled up and took
a position behind her neat counter, her wrinkled head
trembling with so much excitement that her sparse curls
created a kind of quivering nimbus about it.</p>

<p>"Well, ma'am and what can <em>I</em> do for <em>you</em>?" asked
Tabitha with a flaunt of her head and a sarcastic tinge in
her voice.</p>

<p>Mrs. Winslow got to the counter in two or three quick<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span>
jumps or starts, and asked, husky with rage, "I&mdash;I just
want to know which one of you old straws sent that box
to me?"</p>

<p>"Box to <em>you</em>!" jerked out Amanda, the next less
ancient of the Misses Grim, who had just entered and at
once stopped stock still to catch Mrs. Winslow's remark;
"box to you? Tush!&mdash;box to nobody!" and she too
sidled in behind the counter to reinforce, and tremble
with, her very old sister.</p>

<p>"Oh, you can't play your innocence on me!" retorted
Mrs. Winslow very violently. "You wear very white
collars, and very black caps and very straight dresses,
and look very saintly, but you're just three old witches;
that's what you are!"</p>

<p>"Pooh, pooh!" snorted Tabitha and Amanda hysterically.</p>

<p>"Pooh, pooh! if you like; but if I find out which one
of you sent that box, I'll&mdash;I'll shake every bone in her
old body into a match!" shouted Mrs. Winslow, dancing
up and down against the counter and working her fingers
savagely.</p>

<p>"Match?" responded Hannah, the least ancient and
most fiery of the three virgins, and who entered at this
critical moment; "match indeed! you're a match for
anything villainous!" and then she too trotted behind
the counter to throw the weight of her presence into the
conflict.</p>

<p>By this time the interested customers had gathered
around, and people from the street, noticing the unwonted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>
enthusiasm awakened in the Washington Hall restaurant,
were rapidly collecting upon the outside and flattening
their curious noses against the intervening panes.</p>

<p>Mrs. Winslow could no more control herself than could
the old maids, and quickened by the presence of the
increasing crowd, burst into a screaming demand for the
person who sent the "dead" beet to her.</p>

<p>"Dead beat!&mdash;ha, ha, ha!" laughed the three sisters
convulsively, at once realizing the appropriateness of the
joke and excitedly enjoying it; "dead beat, eh? we
didn't do it!" "But," added Hannah, maliciously, "if
you do find the person as did send it, Mrs. Winslow, and
will send 'em around, we'll board 'em for a month free!"</p>

<p>There was war, direful war, imminent; and no one
could imagine what might have resulted had the conflict
of tongues culminated in a conflict of hands. But to have
seen the three ancient, prim, and trembling women on
the one side, and the ponderous, though handsome Mrs.
Winslow on the other&mdash;the old maids either with arms
akimbo or with hands firmly clenched upon the counter's
edge as if to compel restraint, their bodies weaving back
and forth, their heads bobbing up and down, and their
stray frills and curls wildly dancing as if each particular
hair was in a mad ecstasy of its own; and Mrs. Winslow,
upon her side of the counter, in a perfect frenzy of
excitement, stamping her feet, jumping backward and
forward, bringing her clenched hand down upon the
counter with terrible force for a woman, and shaking it
furiously at the agitated row of old maids, would be to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span>
have witnessed a marvellous improvement upon any form
of the Punch and Judy show ever exhibited.</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<a href="images/242-243-lg.jpg" class="noline">
<img src="images/242-243-sm.jpg" width="400" height="257" alt="" title="" />
<span class="caption"><br /><i>"A marvelous improvement over any form of the Punch and Judy show ever exhibited."&mdash;</i></span></a>
</div>

<p>Bristol saw that unless they were separated he would
become implicated in a case of assault and battery, and
after great effort pacified the women sufficiently to enable
him to pilot his landlady out of the restaurant, through
the streets and finally into her own apartments, where she
passed the remainder of the dreary day in weeping,
storms of baffled rage, or protracted applications to the
spirits which can be controlled, whether one is a spiritualist
or not, so long as money lasts and total prohibition
is not enforced.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2>

<div class="chapdesc"><p>Cast down.&mdash;"Trifles."&mdash;A charitable Offering.&mdash;Dreariness.&mdash;Going
Crazy.&mdash;An interrupted Seance.&mdash;A new Form of the Devil.&mdash;The
Red-herring Expedition and its Result.&mdash;A mad Dutchman.&mdash;Desolation.&mdash;An
order for a Coffin.&mdash;The sympathizing Undertaker, Mr.
Boxem.</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">M</span>RS. WINSLOW now began to show great perturbation
of spirits. In conversation with my detectives,
who endeavored to cheer her up and lead her
to regard these surprises as mere jokes not worth any
person's notice, she constantly argued the opposite, and
thus arguing, conjured up countless possibilities of harm,
gradually working herself into that condition of mind
where every little unusual noise or movement of any person
in the building or upon the street was a signal for
some querulous inquiry or complaint.</p>

<p>She was also very much worried concerning her suit,
and went about among the Spiritualists seeking their advice
and encouragement, and giving and receiving a good
deal of scandal concerning the case. From one she
would hear that Lyon was employing certain other mediums
in his behalf, and that she had better look out for
them. Another would inform her that Lyon had several
other mistresses, among them a Miss Susie Roberts, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>
a Madame La Motte, both Spiritualists and mediums,
from whom Lyon intended to prove her bad character,
and whom she, in turn, vowed she would have subpœnaed
in her own behalf, and impeach their testimony through
what she could compel them to admit of both themselves
and Lyon. At other places she learned that these persecutions
were Lyon's work entirely, or rather, the work of
his agents, principal among whom were the two ladies
mentioned. And, in fact, wherever she went she heard
or found something to give her uneasiness or cause her
unrest.</p>

<p>"Yes," she said sadly to my operatives, "I can't stand
this sort of thing much longer."</p>

<p>"Oh, nonsense!" rejoined Bristol; "you haven't been
hurt, have you?"</p>

<p>"No; but I can't tell when I shall be. That's what I
can't bear."</p>

<p>"But I thought you were a woman of too great force
of character to allow trifles to trouble you," exclaimed
Fox tauntingly.</p>

<p>"Trifles!" said she hotly; "trifles! Is expecting
every moment to be murdered, or blown up, a trifle? Is
fearing that everything you taste will poison you, or everything
you touch do you deadly harm, a trifle?"</p>

<p>"People will think you deserve to be annoyed if you
show them you are annoyed," argued Fox.</p>

<p>"I have long since ceased to care what people think.
Sometimes I am sure I hate every human being; and I
do believe the more the world hates me, the more money<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span>
I make. If these things are not stopped soon, I tell you,"
she continued in a tone of voice that seemed to say they
could stay the annoyances if they would, "I'll go to St
Louis and attend to my cases there!"</p>

<p>This opened the eyes of my operatives, and they simultaneously
conveyed the intimation to each other that careful
working might secure some information about any St.
Louis cases the woman might have which would be desirable;
and in a short time, by gradually leading Mrs.
Winslow on, they discovered that the brazen adventuress,
according to her own story, had pending no less than
seven cases in the Circuit Court at St. Louis, every one
of them being suits on some trivial, trumped-up charge.</p>

<p>It seemed fated that Mrs. Winslow should leave Rochester,
if her remaining depended upon these mysterious
offerings ceasing, for while they were yet in conversation
upon the subject, a colored porter called with a great
basket-load of provisions, and without a word, after
spreading a newspaper upon the carpet, began unloading
his store.</p>

<p>"In heaven's name, who sent you here with those?"
she entreated of the colored gentleman.</p>

<p>"It's all right; it's all right," he said soothingly, and
winking hard at my operatives.</p>

<p>"But it isn't all right; it's all wrong!" she retorted,
warming.</p>

<p>"Guess not, missus; lemme see: Quart split peas,
quart beans, one punking, jug m'lasses, 'n a mackerel.
Done got 'em all, sure!"</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span></p><p>"Where did they come from, you black imp?" the
woman demanded, advancing threateningly.</p>

<p>He grabbed his basket quickly, and, slowly retreating
towards the door, winked again very knowingly at Bristol
and Fox, tapped his forehead and shook his head deploringly,
and then nodded towards Mrs. Winslow, very
plainly saying in pantomime, "Poor thing!&mdash;badly demented!"
and, as Mrs. Winslow, in the excess of her
anger, made a dive at him, he sprang back through the
door, ejaculating, "Lo'd, <em>ain't</em> she crazy, though!" and
made good his escape, laughing with that expression of
complete enjoyment which only an Ethiopian can give.</p>

<p>Mrs. Winslow was now thoroughly convinced that the
two men who had been her constant companions of late
had had something to do with annoying her, and she cunningly
followed the negro to the store where he was employed,
where she at once sharply questioned the proprietor,
who told her just as sharply that only a few minutes
before, a ministerial-looking man, claiming to be city missionary
for some church up-town, called and purchased the
goods, remarking that they were for some crazy woman
living in the block next to Meech's opera-house, whom
he had just visited, and found to be possessed of the
peculiar mania that she would receive no provisions save
in full dress in the presence of her physicians, and that it
was his desire to so humor her. So he had entrusted the
errand to the colored man, who had carried out the instructions
given him; and that that was all there was
about it.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span></p><p>When she returned crestfallen to the apartments, and
Bristol and Fox had heard her story, they so derided it,
claiming that the groceryman had fallen in love with her
and invented the story upon the spur of the moment, fearing
to disclose his languishing affection, she now believed
that they were innocent of complicity in the
matter and seemed to lapse into a bewildered sort of
condition, where she would wander about the rooms, suspiciously
pass and repass my operatives and searchingly
scrutinize their faces, and for long periods stand at the
dreary window peering into the street as if into a dead
blank, never noticing the scurrying snow-flakes which
were coming as a silent prelude to another winter, and
only occasionally breaking the silence by murmuring,
"Crazy? crazy? Yes, I <em>shall</em> become so if these terrible
things are not stopped!"</p>

<p>But Mrs. Winslow had seen too much of life and was
too hard a citizen generally to be terribly borne down by
these manifestations for any great length of time, though
they completely overpowered her at their occurrence, and
she was allowed to become quite cheery before being
favored with another materialization, which came in the
following manner.</p>

<p>They were having a pleasant little seance in the rooms
one evening soon after the colored grocery porter had
accused Mrs. Winslow of being crazy, and the several
ladies and gentlemen collected there were engaged in
communing with the Spiritualistic heaven in the old and
very common table-rapping method. They were, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span>
a rule, lank, lean people, the ladies wearing short hair,
and the gentlemen wearing long hair. This, with a few
other affectations and irregularities, was nothing against
them, had it not been equally as true that, according to
my operatives' subsequent inquiries, every member of this
company was either living in open adultery or practising
all manner of lewdness without even the convenient cloak
of an assumption or pretension that the marriage relations
existed. But, good or bad as they were, they were at
the threshold of heaven, and had very appropriately
darkened the room to get as near to it as possible without
being seen, and only the faintest possible jet flickered
in the chandelier. They had all, save Mrs. Winslow,
been served with a message, and she was now the
inquirer, solemnly asking of another medium some information
from the dear departed from over the river.</p>

<p>"Shall I soon receive word from an absent friend?"&mdash;(evidently
meaning Le Compte, who had disappeared
a month or two previous). Three affirmative raps
followed.</p>

<p>"Shall I succeed in my case against Lyon?" The
spirits were certain that she would.</p>

<p>"Shall I be rewarded for all my trouble?" she asked,
waiting tremblingly for an answer.</p>

<p>To this inquiry three thundering raps were heard at the
door.</p>

<p>What could it mean?</p>

<p>The members of the little circle were completely unnerved.
And it was not strange either. Here were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span>
nearly a dozen people closely huddled in the centre of a
room so dark that only the dim, indistinct outline of any
person, or thing, could be seen in the ghostly gloaming.
They believed, pretended they believed, or acquiesced in
the belief or pretension, that they were in direct communication
with the spirit-land.</p>

<p>In the most ridiculous condition of mind which any
person might enter into such a performance, the secrecy
and mysteriousness of the seance, the hushed silence, the
darkness, and that tension of the mind caused by a constant
expectation of some startling manifestation, will
compel in the most sceptical mind a strange feeling of
solemnity akin to awe; so that when Mrs. Winslow's last
inquiry was answered so pat, as well as with such an
alarming loudness, the entire company sprang to their
feet, and on this occasion there was genuine surprise in
the faces of my detectives.</p>

<p>Bang, bang, bang! came the second series of raps,
which promised Mrs. Winslow she should be "rewarded
for all her trouble."</p>

<p>But the answer, in the way it came, didn't seem to satisfy
her. Somebody stepped to the chandelier and
turned on the light, which showed all the company to have
been considerably startled; but the hostess was white
from fear.</p>

<p>"Won't <em>somebody</em> see what new form of the devil has
been sent here to annoy me?" she asked passionately.</p>

<p>Fox, as "somebody," stepped briskly to the door and
turned the key just as the first "Bang!" of another<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>
series of raps was begun, and opening it quickly discovered
a dapper young fellow with a big black bottle held
by the neck in his hand, which was raised for the purpose
of giving the door bang number two.</p>

<p>In response to Fox's loud and sharp inquiry as to what
on earth was wanted, he reversed the position of the
bottle with the dexterity of a bar-tender, took from the
floor a huger basket than that brought by the colored porter,
and slipping into the room, nodded familiarly to Mrs.
Winslow, and then coolly to the company, after which he
quietly proceeded to unload his store.</p>

<p>"Great heavens!" said she despairingly, "I <em>don't</em> want
those things left here. I have no need for anything of
the kind. I take my meals at the Osborne House!"</p>

<p>"Gettin' 'toney' lately!" responded the intruder with
a shrug, piling the packages up neatly in one corner and
taking no heed of her expressed wish concerning them.</p>

<p>There was no response to this, and he resumed in a
light and airy tone: "Times has changed, Mrs. &mdash;&mdash;; eh?
What <em>was</em> it at Memphis and Helena, anyhow?"</p>

<p>This reference to the less aristocratic, though quite as
respectable, vocation of a female camp-follower, though
it caused the woman to change color rapidly, only brought
from her the remark, "I don't know what you mean, sir!
I'll get even with whoever is responsible for this outrage"&mdash;here
she glared around upon the company as if to
ascertain whether any one present was guilty&mdash;"if it
costs me a thousand dollars!"</p>

<p>The new-comer only smiled sarcastically at this and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span>
checked off his packages, concluding the operation by
carefully counting two dozen red herrings, whose aroma
was sufficient to announce their presence if he had not
exhibited them at all; while members of the company
looked about them and at each other as if for some explanation
of the strange proceeding.</p>

<p>Finally, Mrs. Winslow, with a mighty effort to restrain
herself, advanced and asked the young man if he would
not please give her the name of the person to whom she
was indebted for the articles.</p>

<p>He arose, and smiling blandly, remarked, "You didn't
used to be so particular about presents and such things!"
Then he added with a meaning leer: "At Helena and
St. Louis, ye know, old girl!"</p>

<p>"Old girl!" the ladies all screamed. "Why what
<em>does</em> this mean, Mrs. Winslow?"</p>

<p>"Nothing, nothing!" she replied hastily; and then she
hurried the too talkative young fellow away, and came
back into the room with a show of gayety. But it broke
up the little party, and soon after the ladies, with frigid
excuses about not having very much time, and the gentlemen,
with peculiar glances out of the corners of their
eyes towards the woman who had been so familiarly termed
an "old girl," took their departure, leaving Bristol,
Fox, Mrs. Winslow and the melancholy pile of packages
surmounted by aromatic red herrings in a state of solemn,
moody silence.</p>

<p>Bristol was first to break the stillness, which he did by
asking rather testily:</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span></p><p>"You think Fox and I have had something to do with
this, don't you?"</p>

<p>She looked at him a moment as if she would read his
innermost thoughts, and replied: "No, I don't! It comes
from some of those strumpets of mediums, and I would
give a good deal&mdash;a good deal, mind you, Bristol!&mdash;to
know who it was. I'd&mdash;I'd&mdash;&mdash;"</p>

<p>"What would you do?" asked Fox, putting her on her
mettle for a savage answer.</p>

<p>"I would either burn them out, poison them, push them
over the falls, or lie in wait for them and shoot them!"</p>

<p>Mrs. Winslow said this with as much sincerity and
coolness as if giving an estimate on any ordinary business
transaction, and evidently meant it.</p>

<p>"Oh, you wouldn't kill anybody, Winslow," replied Fox
airily.</p>

<p>"Wouldn't I, though, Mr. Fox?" she rejoined with the
old glitter in her eyes and paleness upon her upper lip
that had at an earlier period worried the Rev. Mr. Bland;
"wouldn't I? If you had fifty thousand dollars in your
trunk, I would kill you, appropriate the money, cut you
up and pack you in the trunk and ship you to the South&mdash;or
some other hot climate by the next express!"</p>

<p>She was just as earnest about the remark as she would
have been in carrying out the act; and after Fox had congratulated
himself, both aloud cheerfully and in his own
mind very thankfully, that neither his trunk, or for that
matter his imagination, contained any such gorgeous sum,
he went to his own room for the night, leaving the very excited
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span>Mrs. Winslow and the very calm Mr. Bristol to contemplate
the groceries and each other.</p>

<p>After a few minutes' brown study she suddenly turned
to her companion with: "Bristol, you and I are pretty
good friends, aren't we?"</p>

<p>"Certainly," he replied.</p>

<p>"And haven't I always treated you pretty well?"</p>

<p>"Yes; with one exception."</p>

<p>"What is that?"</p>

<p>"The sleep-walking you did in my room."</p>

<p>"Oh, that's nothing, Bristol. Never happened but
once, and won't occur again. Otherwise I have treated
you pretty well, haven't I?"</p>

<p>Bristol felt compelled to confess that she had.</p>

<p>"Well, then," she continued wheedlingly, "will you do
me a favor?"</p>

<p>"What is it?"</p>

<p>"I want you to take a walk with me."</p>

<p>"Pretty late, Winslow, pretty late; nearly ten o'clock,"
replied the detective, looking at his watch.</p>

<p>"The later the better," she replied earnestly. "I want
to use those herrings."</p>

<p>"Use those herrings! Why, there are at least two
dozen. How on earth will you use them all?"</p>

<p>"Some of these humbug mediums," replied Mrs. Winslow
in a style of expression that showed her to be very
familiar with the Spiritualists, "or old Lyon himself,
have sent me these things. I'm going to adorn the door
knob of every one of their places with a string of herrings.
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span>In that way I'll hit the right one sure. Come, won't you
go?"</p>

<p>Bristol saw that the woman would go anyhow, and fearing
that she might get into some trouble that would cause
her arrest and thus expose him and Bristol to public
notice, which a capable detective will always avoid, consented
to accompany the woman, which so pleased her
that she immediately sent out for brandy, and not only
imbibed an inordinate amount of it herself, but also
pressed it upon Bristol unsparingly.</p>

<p>Her mind seemed filled with the idea that Lyon had
become the "affinity" of nearly every female medium of
prominence in the city in order to further his designs
against her; and to remind them that they were watched,
she had Bristol write "Lyon-La Motte," "Lyon-Roberts,"
"Lyon- &mdash;&mdash;," etc., upon about a half-dozen couples of
herrings, and upon all the rest, save those intended for the
Misses Grim, which were labelled "Tabitha, Amanda, and
Hannah," she had written the names of the different
ladies who, in her imagination, had supplanted her, and
tied all the herrings so labelled together with one very dilapidated
herring marked "Lyon." It is needless to say
that the latter bundle of sarcasm was intended for the
ornamentation of Mr. Lyon's residence.</p>

<p>Bristol felt like a very bad thief, and Mrs. Winslow
acted like a very foolish one. The moment they gained
the street she began a series of absurd performances that
well-nigh distracted Bristol and greatly increased the
danger of police surveillance. She laughed hysterically,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span>
chuckled, and expressed her delight in a noisy effort to
repress it, until the tears would roll down her face. Occasionally
they would meet or pass parties who knew
her, who would say to companions, in the tone and manner
with which they would have probably spoken of other
sensations, "There's the Winslow!" when she would
shrink and shudder up to Bristol's side, begging for the
shelter and protection of his capacious cloak. Again,
imagining she saw somebody following them, or was sure
that loungers lingering in deserted doorways or at the
entrance to dark hallways or alleys were detectives on
their trail, she would give the patient Bristol such nudges
as nearly took his breath away, and, at his lively protest,
would whimper and tremble like a querulous child.</p>

<p>Their first work was to be done on State Street, near
Main, and when they had arrived at a certain hallway,
Mrs. Winslow insisted that Bristol should accompany her
to the rooms which she desired to decorate. This he
flatly refused to do, when she began moaning something
about want of spirit, and then, with a sudden gathering
of the admirable quality for her own use, stole quietly up
stairs and in a moment after came plunging down, as if
the inmates of the entire block had turned out to give her
chase. But this was not the case, and the expedition
progressed without any developments of note, Mrs. La
Motte, Miss Susie Roberts, and the Misses Grim being
properly remembered, until they arrived at Mr. Lyon's
residence, some little distance from the thickly settled
portions of the city.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p><p>The house was one of the rambling, moss-covered
buildings of ancient style and structure, and was set back
from the road some distance among a score of trees
quite as grand and ancient as the mansion itself; and
the old pile did have a gloomy appearance to the
adventurous couple that paused breathlessly before the
gates.</p>

<p>"Bristol," said Mrs. Winslow shiveringly, "do you
know that sometimes, when I see that great black pile up
there, I'm glad he didn't marry me?"</p>

<p>"Why?" her companion impatiently asked. He was
getting cold and tired, and was in no condition to appreciate
maudlin melancholy.</p>

<p>"Because I'm sure I'd die in the old rack-o'-bones of
a place; and besides that, I'm sure there are spooks
there!"</p>

<p>"Pooh, pooh!" sneered Bristol angrily; "go along
and attend to your business, or I'll go back and leave
you!"</p>

<p>Thus admonished, the sentimental lady proceeded with
her work.</p>

<p>For some reason the gate was very hard to open, and
considerable time was consumed in getting into the
grounds. Then it was a long walk to the house. Bristol
anxiously watched the woman move slowly along the
broad walk until she disappeared in the shadows which
surrounded the house and the darkness of the night; and
it seemed an age to him, as he stamped his feet as hard
as he dare upon the stone pavement and whipped his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span>
hands about his shoulders to drive away the chilliness
which he found creeping on.</p>

<p>He heard her footsteps first, then saw her emerge from
the gloom, and finally saw her stop as if to listen. He
also listened very intently, and thought he heard somebody
moving about the house; and was immediately
satisfied of the correctness of his hearing by noticing
that Mrs. Winslow suddenly turned towards the road
and made remarkably good time to the gate, which,
feeling sure of trouble, he made strenuous efforts to
open.</p>

<p>"For heaven's sake, Bristol," she gasped, "why <em>don't</em>
you open this gate. I'll be eaten up with the dogs, and
we'll both be caught!"</p>

<p>The last clause of Mrs. Winslow's remark roused
Bristol to a vigorous exercise of his muscle. He tugged
away at the gate, shook it, threw himself against it from
one side, and his companion threw herself against it from
the other side; but all in vain. Not a moment was to be
lost. Lights were seen flashing to and fro in the great
mansion, angry voices came to them, with the by nowise
cheering short, gruff, savage responses of loosened bulldogs,
and in a moment more the front door was passed
by two men and as many dogs that came dashing out in
full pursuit.</p>

<p>Matters at the gate were approaching a crisis. The
gate could not be opened, and Mrs. Winslow must pass
it or get captured.</p>

<p>"Climb or die!" urged Bristol, reaching through the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span>
pickets of the gate, which was a high one, and lifting on
the portly form of the excited woman.</p>

<p>"I will, Bristol!" she returned, with a gasp.</p>

<p>And she did climb!</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<a href="images/258-259-lg.jpg" class="noline">
<img src="images/258-259-sm.jpg" width="400" height="252" alt="" title="" />
<span class="caption"><br /><i>"And she did climb!"&mdash;</i></span></a>
</div>

<p>It was best that she did so, as a good deal of trouble
was coming down that brick walk like a small hurricane,
and it would logically strike her in a position and from
a direction that would not enable her to respond; and
if either or both of those dogs had been able to have
grasped the situation, partially impaled as she was upon
the pickets, the fascinating Mrs. Winslow would have
fallen an easy prey.</p>

<p>She was very clumsy about it, but in her desperation
she in some way managed to scale the gate, leaving a
good portion of her skirts and dress flying signals of distress
upon the pickets, and finally fell into Bristol's arms.
It was a moment when silk and fine raiment were as
bagatelle in the estimate of chances for escape, and it was
but the work of an instant for Bristol to tear her like a
ship from her fastenings and make a grand rush towards
home.</p>

<p>Those portions of Mrs. Winslow's garments which were
left flaunting upon the gate not only set the dogs wild,
but served to detain them. The men were also halted a
minute by the natural curiosity they awakened, after
which they made a furious onslaught upon the gate, that
only yielded after sufficient time had elapsed to enable
the culprits to get some distance ahead, when the men
and dogs started pell-mell down the street after them.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span></p><p>Bristol fortunately remembered that when they were
nearing Lyon's house, he had noticed that the door leading
to an alley in the rear of a pretentious residence had
been blown open and was then swaying back and forth in
the wind. With the advantage in the chase given by the
dog's criticism upon Mrs. Winslow's wearing apparel and
the men's hinderance at the gate, they were able to seek
shelter here, which they did with the utmost alacrity,
fastening the gate behind them, where they tremblingly
listened to the pursuers tearing by.</p>

<p>Mrs. Winslow insisted on immediately rushing out and
taking the other direction, but Bristol, feeling sure that
the party would go but a short distance, held on to her
until the two men returned with the dogs, swearing at
their luck, and telling each other wonderful tales of burglaries
that never took place, while Bristol thoughtfully
put in the time by making Mrs. Winslow's skirts as presentable
as possible, by the aid of the pins which every
prudent man carries under the right-hand collar of his
coat, and hurriedly ascertaining from her that she had unfortunately
tied the herrings upon the door-bell instead of
the door-knob, thus involving pursuit.</p>

<p>After everything had become quiet, and Bristol had
made several expeditions of observation to doubly assure
himself of the coast being clear, the couple stole cautiously
out of the alley into the deserted street, and after
much precaution and many alarms, caused by the creaking
of signs, the sudden flaring of gas-lamps, and the fierce
gusts of wind dashing after and into them around the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span>
sharp corners of buildings, they at last arrived at home
past midnight; and, having ordered it as they neared the
block, for a half-hour longer they sipped hot toddy by a
rousing coal fire, recounting their exploits of the night,
and eventually retiring with something of the spirit of
conquerors upon them.</p>

<p>Down came the snow and the wind next morning, two
things which will usually in early winter call a whole cityful
out of bed, and set the human tides in a rapid motion.
Fox and Bristol had long before got into the streets and
had heartily enjoyed some newspaper items, one recounting
racily the outrage of labeled herrings being hung to
the door-knobs of the houses of many respectable citizens,
and another, under glaring head-lines, giving the minutest
details of a desperate attempt at burglary of Mr. Lyon's
house, and a double-leaded editorial which agonizedly
asked in every variety of form, "Where are our police?"
But Mrs. Winslow, from her adventures and toddy of
the previous night, slept late and long, and when she did
come creeping out into the sleeping-room, half dressed
and altogether unlovely in disposition and appearance,
she looked out upon the snow-flakes and the crowds of
people without any emotion save that of anger at being
aroused.</p>

<p>The only thing to be seen of anything like an unusual
object was a very large load of hay standing at the entrance
of the building; but of course this had no particular
interest to a Spiritualist. She had had a half-formed
impression that she had heard knocking at the door, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span>
she turned from the window to ascertain whether that impression
had been correct. Throwing a shawl about her
head and shoulders, she unlocked the door and peered out
cautiously. There was nobody there, and the wind whistled
up the stairs so drearily that she closed the door with
a slam, and after starting up the fire, which was slumbering
on the hearth, she crept into bed again.</p>

<p>She had no more than got at the drowsy threshold of
dreamland than she was startled by a loud knocking, this
time proceeding from something besides an impression of
the mind, each knock being accompanied by some lively
expression of German impatience. The demonstration
was intelligible, if the words were not, and Mrs. Winslow
bounded out of her bed and into the reception-room in
no pleasant frame of mind.</p>

<p>On protecting her form as much as her indelicate disposition
required&mdash;and that was not much&mdash;she flung the
door open and savagely asked:</p>

<p>"What's wanted?"</p>

<p>"Ef you keep a man skivering and frozing to died mit
der vind und schnow-vlakes, I guess mebby I charge more
as ten dollars a don for 'em!"</p>

<p>He was all smiles at first, but he resented her brusque
manner as swiftly and severely as he could with his broken
brogue. He was an honest, broad-shouldered, big-headed
German farmer, and though wrapped and wound from
head to foot in woollens, the only thing that seemed warm
about him was his glowing pipe and his disturbed temper.
He shook his head at the woman, and again began a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span>
stammering recital of his wrongs, when she cut him short
with:</p>

<p>"You're crazy!"</p>

<p>"Grazy? Of I make a foolishness of a fellar like as
you do&mdash;well, dot's all right!" and he stood up very
straight and puffed great clouds of smoke past her into
her elegant room.</p>

<p>She had got a stolid customer on hand, and she
saw it. So she asked him civilly what he wanted at <em>her</em>
door.</p>

<p>"Yust told me vere ish der parn, und I don't trouble
you no more."</p>

<p>"Whose barn?"</p>

<p>"Vere der hay goes."</p>

<p>"Hay? What hay? I don't know anything about
any hay," she replied, laughing at his perplexity.</p>

<p>"I shtand here an hour already, und ven I got you
up no satisfagtion comes. Py Shupiter, dot goes like a
schwindle!"</p>

<p>He was very mad by this time, and walked back and
forth in front of her door, shaking his fists and gesticulating
wildly; and to prevent a scene, which might cause a
collection of the inmates of the building, she quieted him
as much as possible, and ascertained that some obliging
person, more enthusiastic about the amount than the
character of some token of esteem, had taken the trouble
to order a load of hay to be delivered at her number,
describing the place, room, and woman so minutely that
there could be no possibility of mistake, where the owner<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span>
was to collect all additional charges above two dollars,
which had been paid.</p>

<p>It took Mrs. Winslow a long time to persuade the farmer
that she owned no barn, kept no animals, had no use
for hay, and that there had been some mistake, or that
some person had deliberately played a joke upon <em>him</em>,
but finally, after a shivering argument of fully fifteen minutes,
and the expenditure of a dollar bill, with the seductive
offer that she would give him ten dollars if he would
find and bring to her the man who ordered the load, her
obstinate visitor departed, roundly swearing in good German
that he would have the <i>Gottferdamter schwindler</i>
brought up by der city gourts and hung, to which Mrs.
Winslow groaned a hearty approval as she shut the door
of the&mdash;to her&mdash;desolate room.</p>

<p>If there had previously been any doubts in her mind
as to there being a preconcerted plan to annoy and exasperate
her beyond endurance, they were now entirely removed,
and the woman broke down completely, wringing
her hands in mute expression of bitter anguish. The
storm without was not half so violent as the storm within,
and the blinding flakes which swept from the bitter sky
raged upon a no more barren, frozen, desolate soil than
her own selfish heart.</p>

<p>There may be a kind of pity for such a woman; there
should be pity for every form of human suffering, or even
depravity; but in my mind there should be none to verge
from pity into palliation and excuse for this woman.
Great as was her mental suffering, there was in it not a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span>
single touch of remorse. Terribly as her mind was
racked and tortured with doubt, uncertainty, fear, and
despair, there was in it no trace of the womanhood which,
however low it may descend, is still capable of regret.
She was not heart-sick for the life she was leading, but
dreaded the punishment she knew it deserved. Her
nature had never shrunk from the countless miseries she
had entailed on others, and her heart never misgave her
only in the absence of her kind of happiness or in the
superstitious fear of the evils which she felt assured were
constantly her due. She was, as far as I ever knew, or
can conceive, a soulless woman whose troubles only produced
vindictiveness, whose utter aim in life was social
piracy, whose injuries only begat hate, and whose sufferings
only concentrated her exhaustless hunger and thirst
for revenge.</p>

<p>After the first burst of rage and passion, she settled
down into a condition of deep study and planning, and
about the middle of the afternoon began passing in and
out and visiting various places, in a way which, though it
might not particularly attract attention, yet betokened some
business project being resolutely and quietly carried out.</p>

<p>During one of the periods when she was within her
apartments, quite a commotion was raised in the lower
story, the stores of which were occupied by a tobacconist
and milliner, by a call from a prominent undertaker of
Main Street, who with a mysterious air exhibited the following
note, at the same time asking whispered conundrums
about it.</p>
<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span></p>

<div class="blockquot">
<p class="smcap">"Mr. Boxem:</p>

<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>&mdash;Please quietly deliver a full-sized coffin
at No. &mdash; South St. Paul Street, at the first room to the
right of the stairway as it reaches the third floor. Enclosed
please find five dollars, in part payment. Will
make it an object to you to ask no questions below, and
deliver the coffin as soon after dark as possible.</p>

<p class="ralign"><span class="pad-r">(Signed)</span> "<span class="smcap">Mrs. A. J. W&mdash;&mdash;.</span>"</p></div>

<p>Mr. Boxem was by no means a solemn man; but he
had a heavy bass voice, which he used to such great effect
in asking questions below stairs, that he succeeded in
creating a fine horror there, so that by the time he had
proceeded to Mrs. Winslow's rooms, it was settled in the
minds of the tobacconist and the milliner, their employees,
and any customers of either who had happened in during
Mr. Boxem's preliminary investigation, that each and
every one's previous solemn prediction as to "<em>something</em>
being wrong upstairs" had now come true, as they each
and every one reminded the other that "Oh, I told you
so!"</p>

<p>Mr. Boxem, finding Mrs. Winslow's door ajar, quietly
stepped in and reverently removed his sombre crape
hat.</p>

<p>"Evening, ma'am," he said politely, but with a professional
shade of sympathy in the greeting.</p>

<p>"And what do <em>you</em> want?" she asked in a kind of desperation,
noticing an open letter in his hand.</p>

<p>"Your order, you know," he replied tenderly; "these<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span>
things are sad and have to be borne. Can't possibly be
helped, more 'n one can help coming into the world."</p>

<p>Mrs. Winslow could not reply from rage and anger, and
hiding her face in her hands, walked to the window.</p>

<p>"No, it's the <em>way</em> of the world," continued Boxem,
with a sigh; "ah&mdash;hem!&mdash;might I ask if <em>it</em> is in there?"
he concluded, producing a tape-line case.</p>

<p>"It?&mdash;in God's name, what <em>it</em>!" sobbed the woman.</p>

<p>"Why&mdash;the&mdash;the"&mdash;stammered her visitor somewhat
abashed, "the body&mdash;the corpse, you know! Have
come to measure it. Painful, I know; but business is
business, if it's only coffin business; and I can't possibly
do a neat job without I get a good measure. Something
like the tailoring trade, you see!"</p>

<p>"Body?&mdash;corpse?&mdash;come to measure it? Oh, I shall
go wild, I shall go wild," persisted the woman, half frantic
at the intimation which came to her that a corpse was
not only in her place, but in the very room where she
slept, and that this fiend who was pursuing her&mdash;this
Nemesis, who struck her pride, her ambition, her desires,
her very life, at every move she made, had actually sent
an undertaker there to measure the dead body.</p>

<p>It is hard to tell what would have happened if the good
sense of the undertaker had not come to the relief of the
situation; and, hastily answering her that there had probably
been some mistake, that the order was probably
meant for the next block, and offering other similar
excuses while hastily apologizing for the intrusion, Mr.
Boxem very sensibly went back to his business and his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span>
coffins, five dollars ahead until more promising inquiries
should bring to light the friend of the alleged dead, and
the owner of the money, who, fortunately for Mr. Boxem,
has not appeared to this day.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2>

<div class="chapdesc"><p>Breaking up.&mdash;Doubts and Queries.&mdash;Suspected Developments.&mdash;The
Detectives completely outwitted.&mdash;On the Trail again.&mdash;From
Rochester to St. Louis.&mdash;A prophetic Hotel Clerk.&mdash;More Detectives
and more Need for them.&mdash;Lightning Changes.</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">B</span>RISTOL and Fox happened around in time to participate
in the general excitement which the undertaker's
visit had awakened, and after getting as full particulars
as possible from the people below, who refused to
believe that some dark deed had not been committed upstairs,
they proceeded to the rooms, where they found the
door to Mrs. Winslow's private apartment closed, and the
two, finding no opportunity to converse with their landlady,
shortly went out for supper.</p>

<p>On their return they found Mrs. Winslow in a remarkably
pleasant frame of mind, and quite full of jokes about
the order for a coffin&mdash;so much so, in fact, that my operatives
were quite surprised at the change from her previous
demeanor under similar circumstances. Altogether they
passed one of the pleasantest evenings since they became
the woman's tenants. Several ladies that lived in the same
building were invited in, refreshments of wines and some
rare fruits out of season were served, singing, card-playing,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span>
and piano-playing with some waltzing were indulged in,
and it was noticed by the two men that Mrs. Winslow
was almost hysterically happy, as if she had decided upon
some exceedingly brilliant and satisfactory plan, the execution
of which was being preluded in this way.</p>

<p>At the close of the evening she casually announced
that the next time she had any company she hoped to
show them a better place.</p>

<p>Somebody at once inquired if she was going away,
whereupon she gayly replied that instead of going away she
was going to make better arrangements for staying. She
had intended all along, she said, tidying up the place, but
had been so lazy that she had kept neglecting it until it
was really too bad, and now she had decided to begin
tearing up things to-morrow.</p>

<p>In answer to Bristol and Fox's inquiries as to what was
to be done with them in the meantime, she said that she
had already arranged that, and had secured a pleasant
room at the Osborn House, where they were to remain
without additional expense to themselves until she had
concluded her changes. This rather dashed the operatives,
but they made no further remark upon the subject
until the company had dispersed, when they urged the
propriety, both on the grounds of economy and convenience
of "doubling up," as Bristol termed it, in one room until
another was finished, and then removing to that, until their
respective apartments had been renovated. But Mrs.
Winslow was obdurate, alleging that on account of these
annoyances she had become weak and nervous of late,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span>
and did not desire to be annoyed with either the argument
or arrangement.</p>

<p>So that early on the next morning, when Mrs. Winslow
announced to the detectives that an express wagon was in
waiting to convey their baggage to the Osborn House,
there was no alternative but to go, as the persons engaged
to do the renovating were on hand and had already begun
their work of turning the rooms into chaos. Mrs. Winslow
assured them that but a few days would elapse before
they would all be together again in their old quarters;
and as they grumblingly went away complaining of
short notice and the like, she bade them a merry good-by,
adding that she should stay about with some of her
Spiritualistic friends in the city, and perhaps take a little
trip down to Batavia; but in any event would let them
know the first moment that the rooms were ready for
occupancy.</p>

<p>While Bristol and Fox were settling themselves in their
new quarters they indulged in a very heated argument as
to Mrs. Winslow's object in this all but forcibly ejecting
them from their rooms, which they had occupied so long
that they had come to consider them something of a
home; as to whether Mrs. Winslow meant to do without
their presence hereafter or not, Bristol feeling sure that
the woman meditated some future action which was to relieve
herself of their society, if indeed it did not mean
more than that, while Fox felt equally as certain that the
whole affair was only one of the whimful woman's whims,
that, being satisfied, would result in their early recall.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span></p><p>In any event in this way the combination of mediumistic
and detective talent was broken up.</p>

<p>I was at once informed about the turn things had
taken, and ordered that extra diligence should be used
in keeping the woman under notice, as I felt apprehensive
that making her rooms tidy was not her object at all.
I had no right to detain her, go wherever she might; but
Lyon's counsel had been for some time absent from
Rochester, and some things in connection with the defence
had not yet received proper attention. The depositions
as to the woman's character and adventures
throughout Wisconsin, Iowa and Missouri had not yet
been taken, nor indeed had the very necessary formula
of serving notice upon Mrs. Winslow of the proposed
taking of such evidence been gone through; so that, as it
would require some time to take this evidence after
notice had been served, it was very desirable that she
should be kept in sight.</p>

<p>The next development, showing her to be a very
shrewd woman, was in her sending word over to the hotel,
the same day that my operatives left her rooms, that she
had been taken suddenly and severely ill, and had been
obliged to turn over the work to a lady friend of hers, and
might not be able to resume the supervision of it for several
days.</p>

<p>Bristol called, ostensibly to tender his condolence, but
was unable to find Mrs. Winslow, being met by a very smart
little lady, who informed him that it would be impossible
to see his former landlady, as she was extremely ill and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span>
could not be at present disturbed; but that should any
change in her condition occur, both he and Fox should be
promptly informed. I had instructed them to do their
best in watching the premises, which I am satisfied they
had done, and I had also put the two other men, Grey
and Watson, on the lookout, but none of them had observed
her either pass out of or into the place, and they
began to be convinced that she really was lying ill within
the building.</p>

<p>During this condition of things, and being somewhat
anxious about the matter, I went to Rochester myself,
and held a consultation with my men, having the block
further examined under various guises and pretexts,
which proved beyond doubt that the woman was gone,
and had probably left the building a very few minutes
after the operatives had departed; and, for some reason
best known to herself, but probably on account of the
mysterious annoyances which had been following each
other very rapidly, had either left the city entirely or was
hiding very closely within it, with a view to discover
whether, with the two men out of her society, and herself
in peaceful retiracy, she could not ascertain from what
source her troubles came, or avoid them altogether.</p>

<p>To my further annoyance, the magnificent Harcout appeared
and kindly offered me countless suggestions and
theories, which were each one considered by Mr. Harcout
to be worthy of immediate adoption; and in order to get
rid of him, I was obliged to appear to acquiesce in an imaginative
theory of Mrs. Winslow's flight to New York,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span>
and represent myself as so interested in his idea of how
she could be traced to her hiding-place, that I desired of
him as a personal favor that he would follow the trail,
giving him a man, and the man a wink&mdash;and there never
was a finer picture of pomposity and assumption than
when Harcout and his man started for New York. Rid
of him, I again turned to my work of getting upon the
right trail.</p>

<p>I was sure the woman had left the city, and further inquiry
at the rooms convinced me that I was correct.
The little woman finally acknowledged flatly that she had
gone, but would under no circumstances tell whether she
had left the city or not. She also exhibited a bill of sale
of the goods and a transfer of the lease, and wanted to
know if <em>that</em> did not look as though she had gone? But
she persisted in her refusal to give further information,
and that was the end of it.</p>

<p>No one had seen any trunks or packages leave the
place, nor could my detectives get any trace of her having
left the city over any of the different roads. Inquiries
made at all the leading livery stables, express and hack-stands,
of the city, failed to discover that Mrs. Winslow
had been conveyed to any near railroad station where she
might have taken a train; nor could it be by any means
ascertained that such a person had purchased a ticket at
any of the adjacent towns for any point to the east, west,
or south.</p>

<p>In fact, all trace of Mrs. Winslow was lost, and I was
satisfied that she had for some time been sure of the danger
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span>of her surroundings; and, while not able to fasten
any particular suspicious act upon Bristol or Fox, undoubtedly
intuitively felt that they were either directly
responsible for her troubles, or were in some unexplainable
way connected with their cause; and being enough
of a professional litigant to be aware of the necessity of
service of notice upon her as to the taking of evidence
before such evidence could be taken, and that it would
be possible by a sudden disappearance and remaining
secreted until the case might be called, to defeat Lyon's
attorneys from using this mountain of evidence which she
knew existed against her, whether she knew we had collected
it or not, the double motive for her mysterious
absence was plainly apparent.</p>

<p>Remembering Bristol and Fox's reports as to her threat
to go to St. Louis and "attend to her cases" there unless
the annoyances ceased, and knowing from previous evidence
already secured that she had figured extensively in
various capacities, but principally as Spiritualist, blackmailer
and courtesan in that city, I finally concluded that
she had gone there, though her mode of leaving Rochester,
if she had left the city, had certainly been such as
to demonstrate ability worthy of a better cause.</p>

<p>I accordingly directed Bristol and Fox to return to
New York, and detailed the two men who had made it
lively for Mrs. Winslow, and who, of course, knew her, but
whom she had not seen face to face, the "materializations"
having all been done for them by other parties, to proceed
to St. Louis in search of her, stopping at any point where<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span>
railroad divergences were made from the trunk lines between
the east and the west, and make extremely diligent
inquiries for her, while I left another man in Rochester
for the purpose of watching for her reappearance there,
which would undoubtedly occur as soon as her former
tenants were gone, in the event that she was secreted in
Rochester, instead of being at the west, and to make this
plan more certain, caused Bristol to write a letter to Mrs.
Winslow, stating that both he and Fox had made numberless
efforts to see her, but, failing to ascertain either
where she was, or the cause of her sudden disappearance,
and both being out of active business, they had concluded
to go on to New York, but would return to Rochester
should she resume charge of the rooms and desire them
for tenants. I made arrangements also at the post-office
to ascertain whether any letters were reforwarded to her
at any point, and also at the express office regarding
packages, so it could be hardly possible for her to keep
up any correspondence or relation of any kind with parties
in Rochester without disclosing her place of retreat.</p>

<p>Having completed these arrangements, I returned to
New York and anxiously waited for some news from the
West.</p>

<p>No trace was found of the woman until Operatives
Grey and Watson had arrived at Chicago, where they immediately
circulated among the Spiritualists of that city,
who are both numerous and of rather doubtful moral
standing. They ascertained that a woman answering her
description had been there, and advertised largely under<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span>
another <em>alias</em> than Mrs. Winslow, but nothing definitely
could be learned until in their reports I discovered that
the little Frenchman, Le Compte, was figuring as the
unknown lady's companion and business manager, when
I telegraphed to follow Le Compte and his woman, being
morally certain that these two were Monsieur the Mineral
Locater and the celebrated plaintiff in the Winslow-Lyon
breach of promise suit.</p>

<p>It was discovered after some trouble, and with the assistance
of my Chicago Agency, that Le Compte had
suddenly left that city for some southern or south-western
point, possibly St. Louis, but no information could be
gained as to what direction Mrs. Winslow had taken, it
being evidently her plan to avoid pursuit, should there be
any made. My conviction still being strong that her objective
point was St. Louis, I ordered the men on there,
without positively knowing that either of the parties were
there; but was gratified to learn that Le Compte had
been in the city, whether he was there or not on the operatives'
arrival. The operatives, Grey and Watson, at
once searched the newspapers and found no advertisements
which would cover the desired couple, or either of
them; but, notwithstanding, visited all the mediums,
clairvoyants, and prominent Spiritualists of the city, but
could find no trace of the fugitives from that generally
very prolific source, and began to have the impression
that her trip there, if she were in the city at all, was one
of pleasure or of blackmail business outside of her regular
clairvoyant line.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p><p>The next move made by the men was to search about
among the hotels and boarding-houses, and really ferret
her out. This was a tedious process, and very little
success was made in this endeavor for two or three days,
when one noon, as Grey was wandering about the city in
a seemingly useless endeavor to find the woman, he
stepped into the Denver House, formerly the old City
Hotel, and began to search over the register. He had
not proceeded far when the clerk, eyeing him cautiously,
said:</p>

<p>"See here, Mister, ain't you lookin' for somebody?"</p>

<p>"Certainly I am," he replied pleasantly.</p>

<p>Grey looked at him a moment and saw that he would
not drop the subject, and immediately endeavored to mislead
him by answering, "Of course I am; I came in
from the country this morning, and I don't know what
hotel she was going to."</p>

<p>"Ah, ha," mused the clerk, as if at loss how to proceed,
"I guess you didn't know where to find her, and
you haven't found her yet, have you?"</p>

<p>"No," Grey replied quietly.</p>

<p>"Is she big or little?"</p>

<p>"Well, she ain't little," answered Grey.</p>

<p>"Now, see here, my friend, that's all right; but I'm
pretty sure you didn't just come in from the country, and
further, I think I can show you the woman you've been
hunting."</p>

<p>Grey smiled and intimated that he was perfectly willing
to be shown the woman.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span></p><p>"Well, you just let me have your hat; I'll put it on the
hat-rack inside the dining-room door, then you go to the
wash-room and pass into the dining-room as though you
had forgotten your hat and had come back for it. Look
at the head of the first table over by the windows, and
if you don't find your woman with a little Frenchman,
I'll treat!"</p>

<p>Grey was surprised at the revelation, as there could be
no possible means for him to know of his mission; but
the clerk's reference to the "little Frenchman" convinced
him that there was something worth following up
in the matter, and he followed his new friend's instructions
implicitly, passed into the dining-room, took his hat
from the rack, turned and got a good view of the fair
Mrs. Winslow and the faultless Monsieur Le Compte,
who were evidently enjoying life as thoroughly as perfect
freedom from restraint, and spiritualistic free love, would
enable them.</p>

<p>He expressed no surprise, however, at seeing the
woman, and remarked to the clerk as he passed into the
hall, "Why, that isn't any friend of mine!"</p>

<p>"Nor anybody else's!" said the clerk with a leer.
"But really, now," he anxiously added, "<em>ain't</em> you after
her?"</p>

<p>"Certainly not," Grey stoutly replied; but as the clerk
took him into the bar-room to treat him according to
agreement, which he submitted to unblushingly, he admitted
that he had a curiosity to know something about her,
as he had either seen her, or heard of her, previously.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span></p><p>Then the clerk told him a good deal about the woman,
unnecessary for me to recite to my readers, which only
further showed her vile character, and so worked upon
my operative's curiosity and interest that he decided to
come to the hotel for a few days; but as he was informed
that Mrs. Winslow's intentions were to remain there the
remainder of the week, and the clerk promised to keep a
good lookout for her, he concluded to hunt up his companion,
inform him of his good fortune, and transfer their
baggage to that hotel.</p>

<p>As it was now about two o'clock, Grey did not find
Watson before six, and it was fully eight o'clock before
they got settled at the Denver House. But their eyes
were not gladdened by a sight of the fugitive on that
evening, nor was she at breakfast next morning. The
operatives began to be alarmed lest the bland clerk had
taken them in, and were particularly so, when, at their request,
for the purpose of ascertaining whether she was in
her room, he knocked at her door, and after a few minutes
returned with a blank, scared face, saying that the Jezebel
had left, and more than that, that she owed the hotel over
fifty dollars for board and wine furnished on the strength
of her elegant and dashing appearance.</p>

<p>On further examination of the room it was evident that
the woman had not occupied it at all during the previous
night, but had left the hotel immediately after dinner
whether from a previous decision to do so, or from one of
those sudden impulses, quite contrary to the general rule
of human action, which made her an extraordinarily difficult
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span>quarry to follow, or still, from some suspicion that she
was being followed.</p>

<p>Grey felt quite crestfallen that he had lost Mrs. Winslow
by one of her characteristic manœuvres, and at once
made inquiries concerning her baggage, ascertaining from
the clerk that she only had a portmanteau with her at the
hotel, but had had a trunk check which she had exhibited
when asking some question about the arrival and departure
of trains.</p>

<p>Grey sent Watson to intersections of prominent streets
to keep a lookout for parties, while he at once proceeded
to the "Chicago Baggage Room," as it is called, under
the Planters' House, where he ascertained, after considerable
trouble and representing himself as an employee of
the Chicago, Alton, and St. Louis road, looking for lost
baggage, that Mrs. Winslow had come there personally
about two o'clock the day previous and presented the
check for her trunk, which had been taken away by an
expressman with "a gray horse and a covered wagon."</p>

<p>The next step, of course, was to find the expressman
with the gray horse and covered wagon, who had taken the
woman's trunk, and this was no easy matter to do. There
were plenty answering that description, but Grey labored
hard and long to find the right one, and finally found it
this way.</p>

<p>Being an Irishman himself, and a pretty jolly sort of a
fellow, he was not long in finding a compatriot the
owner of a gray horse and a covered wagon, of whom he
asked:</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span></p><p>"Did you move the big woman with the big trunk at
two o'clock yesterday?"</p>

<p>"An' if I did?" said the expressman, on the defensive.</p>

<p>"Nothing if you did; but <em>did</em> you?" replied Grey.</p>

<p>"It's chilly weather," replied the expressman, winking
hard at a saloon opposite.</p>

<p>"Yes, and I think a drop of something wouldn't hurt
us," added Grey, following the direction of the
expressman's wink and thought quickly.</p>

<p>They stepped over to the saloon and were soon calmly
looking at each other through the bottom of some glasses
where there had been whiskey and sugar. They looked
at each other twice this way, and finally they were obliged
to take the third telescopic view of each other before they
could resume the subject.</p>

<p>Then the expressman looked very wise at Grey, remarking
musingly, "A big 'oman with a big trunk, eh?"</p>

<p>"Yes, a pretty fine-looking woman, too."</p>

<p>"Purty cranky?"</p>

<p>"Yes."</p>

<p>"And steps purty high wid a long sthride?"</p>

<p>"Exactly."</p>

<p>"'N has clothes that stand up sthiff wid starch 'n silk
'n the makin'?"</p>

<p>"The very same," said Grey anxiously.</p>

<p>"I didn't move her," said the expressman, shaking
his head solemnly.</p>

<p>Grey felt like "giving him one," as he said in his reports,
but repressed himself and said pleasantly that he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span>
was sorry he had troubled him, and turned to go away,
knowing this would unloosen his companion's tongue, if
anything would.</p>

<p>"Sthop a bit, sthop a bit; you didn't ax me did I know
ef any other party moved her?"</p>

<p>"That's so," said Grey, smiling and waiting patiently
for developments.</p>

<p>"Av coorse it's so." Then looking very knowingly, he
said mysteriously, "The man's just ferninst the Planters',&mdash;not
a sthone's throw away. He's a big Dutchman, 'n
got a dollar fur the job."</p>

<p>They were both around the corner in a moment, and
Grey at once made inquiries of the German owner of a
"grey horse and a covered wagon" as to what part of the
city he had removed the trunk.</p>

<p>He was very secretive about the matter, and refused
any information whatever.</p>

<p>"Come, come, me duck," said the Irishman, "me frind
here is an officer, 'n ef ye don't unbosom yerself in a
howly minit, ye'll be altogether shnaked before the
coort!"</p>

<p>He said this with such an air of pompous sincerity, as
if he had the whole power of the government at his back,
that the German at once began relating the circumstances
in such a detailed manner that he would have certainly
been engaged an entire hour in the narrative, if Grey had
not, as he himself expressed it, "out of the tail of his eye"
seen Mrs. Winslow, not twenty feet away, sailing down
Fourth street, towards the Planters'. In another moment<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span>
she would pass the corner of the court-house square,
where she could not help but see the little crowd of expressmen,
hackmen and runners, his inquiries, and the
statement by his companion that he was an officer, had
attracted.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXV.</h2>

<div class="chapdesc"><p>Still foiled.&mdash;Mr. Pinkerton perplexed over the Character of the Adventuress.&mdash;Her
wonderful recuperative Powers.&mdash;A lively Chase.&mdash;Another
unexpected Move.&mdash;The Detectives beaten at every
Point.&mdash;From Town to Town.&mdash;Mrs. Winslow's Shrewdness.&mdash;Among
the Spiritualists at Terre Haute.&mdash;Plotting.&mdash;The beautiful
Belle Ruggles.&mdash;A wild Night in a ramshackle old Boarding-House.&mdash;Blood-curdling
"Manifestations."&mdash;Moaning and weeping
for Day.&mdash;Outwitted again.&mdash;Mr. Pinkerton makes a chance
Discovery.&mdash;Success.</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">G</span>REY took in the situation at once, and was equal
to the emergency. He knew if the German saw
Mrs. Winslow, and thinking him an officer who might arrest
him for complicity in something wrong, he would probably
shout right out, "There she is, now!" He was
also just as sure that his new-found Irish acquaintance, in
the excess of his friendliness, would rush right over to
Fourth street and stop the woman. So in an instant he
created a counter-attraction by calling the German a liar,
collaring him, and backing him through the line of wagons
out of sight, and as Mrs. Winslow passed farther
down Fourth street, backed him through the line of teams
in the opposite direction, while the German protested
volubly that he was telling only the truth; and just
the moment Mrs. Winslow's form was hid by the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span>
Planters' House, he released the now angry expressman,
flung him a dollar for "treats," and running nimbly around
the block, fell into a graceful walk behind Mrs. Winslow,
keeping at a judicious distance, and following her for
several hours through the dry-goods stores, to the Butchers
and Drovers' Bank, where she drew a portion of the
amount which she had secured from the prominent St.
Louis daily as damages, and which had remained undisturbed
in that bank until this time; into several saloons,
where she boldly went, and, in defence of the theory of
women's rights, stood up to the counter like a man, ordering
and drinking liquor like one too; to the Four Courts,
where she at least <em>seemed</em> to have considerable business;
to numberless Spiritualist brothers and sisters, including,
of course, the mediums; and finally to a very elegant private
boarding-house kept by a respectable lady named
Gayno, whom the adventuress had so won with her oily
words and dashing manners, accompanied by her large
Saratoga trunk, that not only she, but a little French gentleman
named Le Compte&mdash;whom Grey had hard work to
avoid, as he had followed Mrs. Winslow at a respectful
distance, and as if with a view of ascertaining whether
any other person besides himself was following the madam&mdash;had
managed to secure quarters in an aristocratic home
and an aristocratic neighborhood, for all of which the experienced
female swindler had no more idea of paying,
unless compelled to, than she had of paying her fifty-dollar
hotel bill at the Denver House.</p>

<p>On receipt of this information, I directed Superintendent
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span>Bangs to proceed to Rochester and hurry up Lyon's
attorneys in securing the legal papers necessary to avail
ourselves of the large amount of evidence already discovered,
and serve notice upon her while she was still in
sight, and before her suspicions of being watched and followed,
which it was evident was now growing upon her,
had forced her into still more artful dodges to evade us.</p>

<p>It was certainly her determination to clothe all her acts
with as much mysteriousness as possible, and in this manner
work upon Lyon's feelings and fears until she would
compel him, through actual disgust of and shame at the
long-continued public surveillance of his affairs, to end the
worrying tension upon his mind by a compromise that
would yield her a large sum of money.</p>

<p>That she was able, and had the means to make these
quick moves and sudden changes, was equally as certain,
though it was a question in my mind then, and has been
to this day, how much money she might have had at command.
I know that at times she must have had almost
fabulous sums in her possession. I was also often quite
as sure that she was absolutely penniless, when, of a sudden,
she would carry out some bold scheme that required
a great deal of money, which invariably came into requisition
from some mysterious source in the most mysterious
manner possible. Whatever might have been the
woman's pecuniary resources, I must confess that in
nearly every instance I underrated her, and in fact that,
in every respect, the more I endeavored to analyze her
the more of an enigma she became.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span></p><p>Like nearly all women of disreputable character, she
was terribly extravagant, reckless, and improvident; but
as an offset to this she was supreme in the meanness
ordinary courtesans are above&mdash;that petty but never-ceasing
swindling so terribly annoying to the public.</p>

<p>With all these things in her favor, so far as being an
ingenious pest is concerned, she was also possessed of
the power of physical as well as financial recuperation to
a wonderful degree; and to whatever depth of temperamental
dejection or physical exhaustion and degradation
she might descend, she would of a sudden reappear, fresh
and blooming, with no perceptible trail of her vileness
upon her, in which condition she would remain just so
long as would conserve her interests.</p>

<p>While Superintendent Bangs was on his way to St.
Louis, Grey and Watson were being led a lively chase
about the city by Mrs. Winslow, and the bland clerk of
the Denver House was devoting nearly all his time in
tracking her from place to place to enforce the collection
of his employer's bill.</p>

<p>Her first exploit was to borrow twenty dollars from
Mrs. Gayno on her baggage, who was thus prevented
from turning her out of doors when her true character was
learned; and as a further illustration of her shrewdness,
after she had remained at the house as long as she desired,
she left between days, without refunding the borrowed
money or paying her bill, and in some mysterious way
also spirited away all her baggage.</p>

<p>This of course caused more trouble in finding her, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span>
she was finally discovered in furnished rooms. Even here
she suddenly made her presence so unbearable to the
landlord that he gladly paid her a bonus to depart, which
she did equally as mysteriously as on the previous occasion,
when she was lost again, and the third time found at
a Spiritualistic gathering at the hall near the corner of
Chestnut and Seventh streets, where she was one of the
speakers of the evening and did herself and the cause
justice.</p>

<p>In this way&mdash;following her while she was securing
abstracts of her many cases against the people of St.
Louis, the number and trivial character of which had
become a matter of public scandal, newspaper comment,
and universal condemnation among members of the bar,
keeping track of her in numberless conditions and localities,
and listening to endless tales of the woman's reckless
conduct during her previous residence in the city&mdash;Mrs.
Winslow gave the two men all they could possibly attend
to.</p>

<p>One Wednesday morning about eleven o'clock, when
Grey had just stepped out upon the street from a late
breakfast at the Planters'&mdash;having been out until nearly
morning the night previous on a fruitless attempt to keep
the woman under surveillance for a few hours, that detective
was looking up and down the street quite undecided
as to what course to pursue&mdash;he saw Mrs. Winslow just
leaving an expressman at the court-house square, who
immediately jumped into his wagon and drove off.</p>

<p>Grey ran quickly down Fourth street, and after a few<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span>
minutes' chase succeeded in overtaking the vehicle.
Halting it he asked the driver:</p>

<p>"Are you going to move that woman?"</p>

<p>He checked his horse with an air that plainly said that
kind of interruption was neither profitable nor desirable;
but driving on at a brisk pace, there was jolted out of
him the remark: "My friend, I'm working for the public.
Sometimes it pays better to keep one's mouth shut than
to open it, especially to strangers."</p>

<p>Grey hurrying on at the side of the wagon, and holding
to it with his left hand, with his right he found a greenback.
Handing this to the driver, he sprang into the
seat beside him, saying, "Sometimes it pays better to
open one's mouth!"</p>

<p>"That's so," replied the driver stuffing the bill into
his pocket and elevating his eyebrows as if inquiring
what Grey wanted him to open his mouth for.</p>

<p>"I want you to drive slowly enough for me to keep up
with you. Mind, you needn't <em>tell</em> me anything unless you
have a mind to."</p>

<p>"Oh, I'd just as leave tell you as not," he replied.
"She's going over to East St. Louis to try and get the
'Alton Accommodation,' if it hasn't gone yet. The Chicago
train's way behind, and the 'Alton' don't go until
the 'Chicago' comes; ye see?"</p>

<p>Grey knew this was partially true, for he had but a few
moments before received a telegram from Mr. Bangs,
stating that he was aboard the down train which had been
belated; so that the best thing to do was to take the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span>
expressman's number, so that he could find him again in
case of a mistake, or any deception being practised,
which he did. He then returned to the Planters', paid
his bill, wrote notes to both Watson and Superintendent
Bangs stating how matters stood, went to the levee, and
in a few minutes had the pleasure of seeing the trunk put
on board the ferry, where its owner shortly followed.</p>

<p>Grey went on board, taking a position near the engines,
where he could have an unobstructed view of the stairs,
so that if this should prove to be another ruse of the
madam's to get him started across the river and then
glide off the boat to take up still more retired quarters,
he could beat her at her own game. But Mrs. Winslow
remained on the boat, and just as it was pushing off for the
Illinois shore the landlord of the Denver House, accompanied
by a constable, came rushing on board.</p>

<p>Seeing Grey, he immediately applied to him for information
as to whether the woman was on board. He
replied by pointing her out where she was leaning over
the guards immediately above them. The landlord and
his man at once proceeded to interview the woman,
threatening all sorts of things if that bill was not paid, to
all of which she gave evasive answers until the Illinois
shore was reached, when she reminded them that she was
outside the jurisdiction of the State of Missouri, and that
if either of them laid their hands upon herself or her
property, she would feel compelled to cause a St. Louis
funeral, as she was a good shot, and when in the right did
not hesitate to shoot; which so frightened the hotel man<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span>
and "the little minion of Missouri law," as Mrs. Winslow
called the constable, that they retreated empty-handed
and with a confirmed disgust at the active exponents
of modern Spiritualism.</p>

<p>Grey was now in a quandary as to what to do. The
Chicago train was reported as over two hours late, and
he was informed by the conductor of the Alton Accommodation
that though his train could not leave St. Louis
until the Chicago train had arrived, yet that he dare not
hold the train a moment after that time. This precluded
Grey's informing Mr. Bangs of his whereabouts, as the
train was now too near the place to admit of his being
reached by a telegram; and should he risk losing the
woman to apprise Mr. Bangs, it might be impossible to
find her again at all. Fortunately he learned that the passenger
train stopped at the Baltimore and Ohio railroad
crossing, and, interesting a brakeman in his behalf, he
arranged with him to go up to the crossing, board the
train, rush through it and call out for Mr. Bangs as he
went, directing the latter to pay the brakeman two dollars
for his trouble, then jump off the train, walk rapidly back
to the crossing and there board the Alton train as it was
going out, if possible; which latter plan would have
succeeded, no doubt, had not Mr. Bangs been chatting
upon the rear platform of the rear car, and failed
altogether to hear the extremely loud inquiries made for
him.</p>

<p>Mrs. Winslow recognized Grey as a person in somebody's
employ who was following her, and the moment he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span>
seated himself in the single passenger-car attached to the
train, the woman began such a terrible tirade of abuse
against him that he was made to feel that the detective's
life is not altogether one of roseate hue, and so annoyed
the other passengers that a large-sized brakeman was selected
as a delegation of one to quiet her. It was evident
she had been drinking heavily, and she kept this
brakeman pretty well employed for some time in not only
endeavoring to quiet her termagant tongue, but to keep
her in her seat, as she would often rise in the ecstasy of
her wrath and denounce poor Grey, who meekly bore it
all with a patient smile, until the conductor again appeared,
when Grey showed him his thousand-mile employee's
ticket and claimed that he was an employee of
that road looking up lost baggage; that it was suspected
that Mrs. Winslow had stolen the trunk she had with her,
and that he had been ordered to follow her for a day or
two until he got further instructions from headquarters.
This put him all right with the trainmen, and caused the
conductor to compel the woman into some sort of civility
and silence.</p>

<p>At about two o'clock the train arrived in Monticello,
where Mrs. Winslow left the train, and the detective followed.
The agent informed Grey that it was at least
a mile to a telegraph office uptown, but that no train
save a "wild-train" would pass either way until after he
would have time to send a dispatch and return. He immediately
went uptown and sent a telegram to the agent
at East St. Louis to please inquire for a Mr. Bangs about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span>
the depot, and if there, to have him answer; also one to
Mr. Bangs himself at the Planters'.</p>

<p>Returning to the depot, the agent informed Grey that
Mrs. Winslow had also been uptown, which was quite evident,
as she had donned an entirely different suit of clothing,
evidently with some inebriated sort of an idea that
this might change her appearance enough to enable her
to escape him. She finally bought a ticket to Brighton,
and got her trunk checked to that point.</p>

<p>On their arrival at Brighton, Grey saw several ladies
get off the rear platform of the ladies' car, among whom
was his unwilling travelling companion, and watched
until they had passed into the depot. In order to make
sure that she was to stop here, he ran rapidly to where
the baggage was being unloaded, where he found that
her trunk had been put off. He waited there until he
saw the trunk wheeled into the little baggage-house, when
he leisurely walked back to the depot and stepped into
the ladies' waiting-room, to keep the company of the
adventuress.</p>

<p>What was his surprise to see it almost deserted, no
Mrs. Winslow there, and no surety of anything at all.
He rushed into the gentlemen's room, galloped around
the depot, looked in every direction, only to turn towards
the train with the startling suspicion that he had again
been outwitted by the shrewd Spiritualist who made her
livelihood by villainy and shrewdness, which was quickly
confirmed as he made an ineffectual attempt to overtake
the departing train, only to see the face of Mrs. Winslow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span>
pressed hard against the rear window of the ladies' car,
and almost white with a look of fiendish enjoyment and
hate at the useless attempts of her relentless pursuer whom
she had so neatly foiled.</p>

<p>Mrs. Winslow had slipped a detective&mdash;and a good
detective, too&mdash;again, was gone, and all Grey could do
was to wait at Brighton until Superintendent Bangs could
overtake and counsel with him.</p>

<p>By telegrams to and from conductors it was speedily
ascertained by Superintendent Bangs, who had come on
to Brighton and directed Watson to report at the Chicago
Agency, that the woman had gone to Springfield, Ills.,
and, after arranging with the station-agent at Brighton
to send information to Chicago regarding any call that
might be made for her trunk, or as to any orders that
might be received to have it forwarded, Mr. Bangs and
Grey went at once to Springfield, where a trace of the
woman was found at the St. Nicholas Hotel.</p>

<p>It was ascertained that she had remained at the hotel
over night, and the clerks thought it probable that she
was then at the house, her bill not having been paid; but
a thorough search for her only developed the fact that
she was at least absent from the hotel, whether with an
intention of returning or not.</p>

<p>Mr. Bangs directed Mr. Grey to remain at the St.
Nicholas, keeping on the alert for her, while he visited
the more elegant houses of ill-repute with which that
capital abounds during legislative sessions and which
were just at this time getting in readiness to receive lawmakers
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span>and lobbyists; and also the other and less respectable
establishments for piracy, managed by professed
mediums, astrologists, fortune-tellers, and all the other
grades of female swindlers; and after a considerable time
spent in investigation, found a certain Madam La Vant,
astrologist&mdash;who professed to cast the horoscope of
people's lives with all the certainty of the famous Dr.
Roback&mdash;who was descended from the vikings and jarls
of the Scandinavian coast, but in reality kept a house of
assignation, that most dangerous threshold to prostitution.</p>

<p>Madam La Vant at once acknowledged that Mrs.
Winslow <em>had</em> been there; even showed Superintendent
Bangs a bundle she had left with her. She stated that
she had called there early in the morning and left the
package, with the promise to return about three o'clock in
the afternoon, when she was to occupy a room she had
engaged there, and had already paid in advance for its
use. Mr. Bangs did not feel exactly at rest about the
matter, but could not do otherwise than return to the
hotel for his dinner, promising to call in the afternoon,
and alleging that he had information to give the woman
regarding certain persons who had been, and then were,
following her; for if she were then in the house she
would remain there, and he had no legal authority to
molest her or search the place without Madam La
Vant's consent, which he could not of course get if she
was shielding her, which she undoubtedly was; and if
Mrs. Winslow was really away from the house, the
madam would take some means of preventing her return.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span></p><p>He went to the hotel as quickly as possible, found
Grey, whom he immediately sent to watch for the ingress
or egress of the adventuress, took a hasty dinner, and
then relieved my operative so that he might dine, after
which the two watched the house until dark.</p>

<p>But their closest vigils over the place failed to cause
the discovery of Mrs. Winslow, who was doubtless by
this time many miles away from Springfield, enjoying
peace and quiet in some other city. Superintendent
Bangs called on Madam La Vant as soon as the evening
had come, and that lady expressed great surprise that he
had not seen his "friend, Mrs. Winslow," as she expressed
it; following this remark by the explanation that she
had returned to her house not over a half-hour after he
had left it, and had stated that she had decided to go on
to Chicago immediately, whereupon Madam La Vant had
refunded her the money advanced for the room, and the
woman had taken her bundle and departure simultaneously.</p>

<p>The detectives were satisfied that the astrologist was
squarely lying to them, and that she had in some way
aided the fugitive to escape, or had effectually secreted
her&mdash;the former opinion being the most reasonable; and
when I had been apprised of the turn things had taken, I
was satisfied that Mrs. Winslow was in Madam La Vant's
house at the very time that Mr. Bangs was first there;
that her friend, the madam, way merely carrying out her
instructions in stating that she had been there, was then
out, but would return, and that at the very moment Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span>
Bangs had started for the St. Nicholas she had left La
Vant's, and, as soon as possible thereafter, the city.</p>

<p>I immediately concluded that as I had no authority to
arrest or in any way detain the woman&mdash;which put my men
at a great disadvantage, preventing their telegraphing in
advance for her detention, or securing and using official
assistance of any kind for the same purpose&mdash;that I had
better recall Mr. Bangs at once, which I did, and trust to
Grey's doggedness in following her, instructing him particularly
to if possible prevent being seen by her, or in
any way alarming her, hoping either for her speedy return
to Rochester, on the principle that the guilty mind
constantly reverts and is drawn towards its chief topic
of thought, and that strive to keep away from it as much
as she might, she would be irresistibly drawn to it; or
that through the former plan I might get her into some
little village or secluded spot, or quiet town, where, upon
Grey's announcement, Mr. Bangs or some other deputized
person might cautiously reach her before she was
aware of her danger, and serve the notice that would
make the legal fight not only possible, but a stormy one
on account of the vast amount of crushing evidence I had
secured for Mr. Lyon against her.</p>

<p>It was more and more apparent that the woman's plan
was to beat us in this way, and thus by long and unbearable
suspense, mysteriousness of action, and constant annoyance
in the shape of threatening letters, which now
continually poured in upon Mr. Lyon, not only from
Rochester, but from other portions of the country, compel
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span>him to settlement; and I saw that the whole supreme
and devilish ingenuity of the Spiritualistic adventuress
was being aimed at avoiding legal process, and to the
accomplishment of this result.</p>

<p>So much time had now elapsed that it was necessary
for Lyon's attorneys to go into court to explain the difficulties
attendant upon reaching the woman, and secure
an extension of time in serving the papers; and by the
time this was accomplished, Grey had tracked her from
town to town and city to city, all through Central Illinois,
riding on the same train with her times without number,
doubling routes and meeting her at unexpected points,
travelling at all hours and in all manner of conveyances,
never sleeping for days, eating from packages and parcels,
with scarcely time for personal cleanliness or care, which
often debarred him from admission to places where a
woman, by that courtesy which is due to her for what she
ought to be, was admitted and very properly protected
from such hard-looking citizens as Grey had become; so
that finally the two came into Terre Haute together, the
adventuress as fresh as a daisy, and perfectly capable of
another grand expedition of the same extent, and the
detective completely worn out and entirely unfit for further
duty.</p>

<p>Anticipating something of this kind and knowing that
the woman might quite naturally gravitate to that point,
I had ordered Operative Pinkham to proceed from Chicago
to Terre Haute, and there assist Grey, or relieve
him altogether, as occasion required, and continue the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span>
trail east towards Rochester, to which point the woman
seemed gradually drifting, though evidently determined
to prolong her journey so as to arrive in Rochester not
more than a day or two before the time set for trial of
the Winslow-Lyon breach of promise case.</p>

<p>Arriving at Terre Haute, Mrs. Winslow immediately
went to Mrs. Deck's boarding-house, and upon telling
that sympathetic old lady a harrowing tale about her persecutions,
was received with open arms, and it was not
long before her pitiful story had drawn a crowd of attenuated
automatons to sympathize, suggest, and harangue
against the entire orthodox world.</p>

<p>So impressed were these people with the woman's
pitiable condition, that word was immediately passed
among them that the persecuted lady should lecture to
them at Pence's Hall, after which a sort of a general love-feast
should be held, to be followed by seances and a collection
for the benefit of the now notorious plaintiff.</p>

<p>That winter afternoon a quiet gentleman dropped into
Mrs. Deck's and secured accommodations for a few days'
stay, representing himself as a commercial traveller from
Cincinnati. Mrs. Deck was absent working energetically
in the interests of her spiritualistic guest, and the
quiet man was obliged to transact his business with the
handsome Belle Ruggles. He was a pleasant, winning
sort of a fellow, young, shapely, and adapted to immediately
gaining confidence and esteem.</p>

<p>From a little conversation with her the quiet man, who
was none other than Detective Pinkham from my Chicago<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span>
Agency, was sure that he could trust the girl, whom he at
once saw had no sympathy with these people or their
crazy antics. He saw that she was full of spirit, too,
capable of carrying out any resolve she had made, and
altogether the single oasis of good sense in this great
desert of unbalanced minds.</p>

<p>So it was not long before he had her sentiments on
Spiritualism, on Spiritualists, and on Mrs. Winslow, whom
she denounced with tears of anger in her eyes as a disgrace
to womanhood and to their place, and he had not
been three hours in the house before the young lady and
himself had entered into a conspiracy to give the woman
such a scare as she had not recently had, and drive her
from the pleasant though quaint old home her presence
was contaminating.</p>

<p>The snow and the night came together, and the storm
shook the old house until its weak, loose joints creaked,
and every cranny and crevice wailed a dismal protest to
the wind and the driving snow. It would take more than
that though to keep people of one idea at home, and the
entire household departed at an early hour for Pence's
Hall, from which, whatever occurred there, Mrs. Deck's
large family did not return until nearly midnight, by which
time Operative Pinkham and Belle Ruggles had concluded
their hasty preparations for a little dramatic entertainment
of their own, and were properly stationed and accoutred
to make it a brilliant success.</p>

<p>"Good-night, my poor dear!" said the kind-hearted
old body as she ushered Mrs. Winslow into her best<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span>
room, a long antiquated chamber, full of panels, wardrobes
set in the wall, and ghostly, creaking furniture. "I
have to give you this room, we are so full. My first husband
died there, but you don't care for anything like
<em>that</em>. I never sleep there, the place scares me; but I
know you will like it, you are so brave!"</p>

<p>Whether brave or not, Mrs. Winslow seemed all of a
shiver when she had entered the room where Mrs. Deck's
first husband had died.</p>

<p>She closed the door carefully, and putting her candle
upon a grim old bureau, began a thorough and seemingly
frightened examination of the room. The storm had not
gone down, and as it beat upon the old place with exceptionally
wild and powerful gusts, the feeble structure
seemed to shrink from them and tremble in every
portion.</p>

<p>On these occasions doors to the wardrobes and closets
of the strange room would open suddenly as if sprung
from their fastenings by unseen hands, while panels
would slide back and forth, cracks in the ceilings and
walls would open alarmingly, until, in fact, to the woman's
vivid imaginations every portion of the lonely old
chamber or its weird furnishings seemed possessed of
supernatural life or motion. The fact is, Mrs. Winslow
was trembling like the house itself; but after a few
moments she snuffed the waning candle which the frugal
Mrs. Deck had given her, and in its flickering rays hastily
began preparing for bed.</p>

<p>Just as she bent over to blow out the candle, some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span>
invisible assistant did the work for her, and at the same
moment a hissed "<em>Beware!</em>" caused her to start with a
scream and plunge for the bed, into which she scrambled
after upsetting a chair or two, when she pulled the covering
over her head and groaned with fright.</p>

<p>And now the blessed materializations began.</p>

<p>A sudden click and then a sliding sound above her
head announced that the "control" had begun operations,
and in a moment a few grains of plastering and
some strange and weird combinations of musical sounds
seemed to simultaneously fall into the room. The
plaster, of course, came right down, some of it upon
exposed parts of the trembling medium's person; but the
music, which seemed to be badly out of harmony,
appeared to have the power of circling in the air, which
it did for some little time, and as suddenly ceased as it
had begun, when from these mysterious upper regions
came a long, low, tremulous, unearthly groan, that died
away into a ghastly sigh as the storm clutched the
decayed old mansion and shook it until it rattled and
rattled again.</p>

<p>"My God!" quavered the half-smothered woman,
"that's Mrs. Deck's first man's ghost; he'll kill me!
Mur&mdash;&mdash;!"</p>

<p>She had begun to shout "Murder!" but a still more
awful voice proceeding from the direction of the bureau
bade her keep silence.</p>

<p>She was silent for a moment, but the storm wailed
about the house so dismally that the "poor dear," who,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span>
according to Mrs. Deck, was brave enough to cheerily
retire in what had been the bed-chamber of the dead,
could bear the horror of her position no longer, and began
a vocal lamentation which gave promise of attracting
more than a spirit audience, when the materialized spirit
of "Mrs. Deck's first man," or whatever owned the voice,
laid a heavy hand upon the trembling woman, sepulchrally
warned her to desist from her outcries, and then
read her such a lecture from the Other World as she had
never transmitted in her most effective "seances;" after
which she was ordered, on pain of instant death, to leave
Mrs. Deck's and Terre Haute as soon as morning should
come, and a pledge being secured from her to the effect
that she would, and that she would under no circumstances
leave the room for the night, the spirit&mdash;which had
very much the appearance of Detective Pinkham, the
commercial traveller from Cincinnati&mdash;left the room by the
door in a twinkling, very like a mortal, and still very like
a mortal, quietly stole upstairs and helped extricate Miss
Ruggles from her gloomy position, where she had done
"utility" business as a groaning garret ghost.</p>

<p>All that dreary night the wicked woman moaned and
wept for day. Her coward heart shrank from the evil
she knew she deserved. The storm never ceased, but
rose and fell as if keeping pace with her terrors, and the
old place furnished her crazed imagination untold horrors.</p>

<p>At last the dawn came, but she had found no moment's
sleep, and before the household was astir the wretched
woman crept out upon the street, and plodding through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span>
the swollen drifts, followed by a very pleasant appearing
commercial traveller from Chicago, she staggered to the
station, and was rapidly borne away from her sympathizing
friends towards the east.</p>

<p>Being apprised by telegraph of Pinkham's rather strange
method of giving her an impulse in the direction of Rochester,
I at once proceeded to that city with Superintendent
Bangs, anticipating her arrival there shortly after
our own; but was again disappointed, the adventuress
having doubled on the detective, and so successfully
avoided him, that the third day after leaving the Hoosier
City he arrived in Rochester with a long face and in an
extremely befogged condition.</p>

<p>After having directed Mr. Bangs and Pinkham to remain
and watch every incoming train, one stormy evening,
as I was about returning to New York, by the merest
chance I espied the woman cautiously emerging from the
Arcade, and following her I soon housed her in the apartments
of an old mediumistic hag on State street. Calling
a carriage I was rapidly driven to the Osborn House,
where I found Mr. Bangs, and with him and the legal
papers returned to the place in less than fifteen minutes
from the time I had left it.</p>

<p>Cautiously approaching the room, we listened and heard
low, earnest voices within. Through the transom we
could see that the light inside was turned very low, and
rightly judged that somebody was being given a "sitting,"
for, carefully trying the knob, I found that the place was
secured against ordinary intrusion, and throwing my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span>
weight against the door it flew from its old and rusty
fastenings, and in an instant we were within the medium's
room.</p>

<p>"That is the woman!" said I, pointing to Mrs. Winslow,
who had sprung from her chair white with fear, while
the wretched-looking medium, though previously in the
"trance state" stared at us with protruding eyes.</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<a href="images/306-307-lg.jpg" class="noline">
<img src="images/306-307-sm.jpg" width="400" height="257" alt="" title="" />
<span class="caption"><br /><i>"That is the woman!" said I, pointing to Mrs. Winslow who had sprung from her chair, white with fear.&mdash;</i></span></a>
</div>

<p>"And who are <em>you</em>?" she gasped, looking from one to
the other in dismay.</p>

<p>"Persons whom you will give no more trouble after
the service of these papers," gallantly replied Mr.
Bangs, passing the legal documents into her hands, which
closed upon them mechanically; and after I had politely
handed the medium sufficient money to repair the damage
I had caused her door, we bade the two spiritualists a
cheery good-night and left them to a consideration of the
contrast between mortal and immortal "manifestations."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2>

<div class="chapdesc"><p>Shows how Mrs. Winslow makes a new Move.&mdash;Also introduces the
famous Evalena Gray, Physical Spiritual Medium, at her sumptuous
Apartments on West Twenty-first Street, New York.&mdash;Reminds
the Reader of the Aristocratic Classes deluded by Spiritualism.&mdash;Describes
a Seance and explains the "Rope-trick," and
other Spiritualistic Sleight-of-hand Performances.</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">M</span>RS. WINSLOW was quite crushed by her failure
to evade service of the notice to take evidence
in just those sections of the country where she had been
too well known for her present good, and for a few days
seemed to be in that peculiar mental condition where one
may be easily led, or driven, into committing a desperate
act for mere relief from a too great conflict of emotions.</p>

<p>She flitted about the city in a state of great unrest for
a little time, not being able to dispossess her mind of the
fear or feeling of being pursued; stealing into the houses
of those of like belief, and with an air of great secrecy
insisting that they should give her refuge and protection
from Lyon's minions, who, she claimed&mdash;and perhaps had
come to believe&mdash;would yet in some way do her bodily
harm; mysteriously gliding about the Arcade and in the
vicinity of his house, as if expecting by some occult power
to be able to divine what might be the rich man's plans
concerning her; and like the very evil thing that she was,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span>
hiding in uncanny places, scared at her own voice or
footsteps, until the spell had left her.</p>

<p>About this time New York city dailies, and many of
the newspapers of large circulation throughout the interior
of the State, were publishing the following advertisement:</p>

<div class="blockquot"><p>"Immense Success!&mdash;Miss Evalena Gray, the celebrated
Spiritual Physical Medium, lately from the Queen's
Drawing-room, Hanover Square, London, also Crystal
Palace, Sydenham, and assisted by Mlle. Willie Leveraux,
from Paris, will give one of her marvellous seances
this evening at her elegant parlors, No. 19 West Twenty-first
street, opposite the Fifth Avenue Hotel, at 7:30
<span class="sm2">P.M.</span>"</p></div>

<p>New York city knew Miss Evalena Gray as a new
aspirant to the honors and emoluments derived from her
ability to do mysterious things very gracefully. She was
as beautiful a woman as had ever come into New York on
this kind of business, and those who considered her a
true medium were in ecstasies over the magnificent contortions
and superb evolutions which her "great spiritual
power" enabled her to execute with bewildering rapidity,
while disbelievers in the source of these phenomena
originating in celestial spheres could not resist her fascinating
powers; and the consequence was that her adroitness
and beauty had created a great sensation, so much
so in fact that respectable people had begun arguing
about her, which answered just the purpose sought.</p>

<p>New York also knew her as a woman so full of soul<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span>&mdash;that
latter-day substitute for brains and personal purity&mdash;as
to have readily confused and silenced great throngs in
Europe wherever she had appeared; and she had invariably
challenged investigation, and that, too, with as
much audacity as success, which had in every instance
been wonderfully marked and complete.</p>

<p>Mrs. Winslow knew her as a little sprite she had met
three years before at Chardon, Ohio, a pleasant little
village of about 3,000 inhabitants, twelve miles south of
Painesville, where Mrs. Winslow had been giving seances.
Miss Gray was then just starting in her Spiritualistic
career, and Mrs. Winslow, seeing her aptitude and general
fascinating qualities, endeavored to persuade her to
accompany her.</p>

<p>Miss Gray evidently believed in her own powers, at
least had considered the proposition unfavorably; but the
two had become warm friends, and Mrs. Winslow had
cheerfully imparted to the demure novitiate all her supply
of manifestations, which she had rapidly acquired,
and the two had parted with the promise to meet again
at the very first opportunity, each drifting away to fulfil
her traitorous course against society and blasphemous
satire upon respectability.</p>

<p>So, Mrs. Winslow, being in that condition of mind
wherein its possessor <em>must</em> have some person's confidence,
saw this advertisement, and feeling sure that Miss Evalena
Gray had been in clover, concluded that she could go
to her for rest and consolation; accordingly, she threw off
the clouds which had seemed to settle upon her, gathered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span>
her baggage together from various secret places where it
had been deposited, took rooms at the National Hotel
for a few days in quite a rational manner, and after a
week of perfect rest and physical care, which told wonderfully
in her favor, in connection with her great recuperative
powers, and having provided a wardrobe of no
mean character, left Rochester for New York as handsome
and attractive a woman as one would meet in a
day's journey.</p>

<p>I was apprised of her departure by telegraph, and had
a spry little operative at the Hudson River depot at
Thirty-first street, ready to play the lackey to her. She at
once proceeded in a carriage to the Fifth Avenue Hotel,
where she secured fine apartments overlooking the entrance
to Miss Evalena Gray's elegant parlors at No. 19
West Twenty-first street; and although I had no previous
information as to what called Mrs. Winslow to
New York, I was for several reasons satisfied that it was
for the purpose of communicating with Miss Gray, and at
once took measures for securing the substance of the
interview.</p>

<p>As Mrs. Winslow had arrived late in the afternoon, I
thought probably she would make no move until the following
day, but took the precaution to secure a room
adjoining hers for the use of an operative, sending another
detective to Miss Gray's seance at half-past seven, to
ascertain whether Mrs. Winslow was at any time present,
and also, if necessary, to devise some means to remain in
the house until the two women had met, should they do so.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span></p><p>The detective sent to Miss Gray's place was barely
able to secure admission, on account of having come on
foot, that fact alone laying him liable to suspicion. For
an hour's time, splendid equipages, at short intervals,
rolled up to the mansion, and their occupants were turned
over to a negro butler of such gigantic proportions and
gorgeous livery as to give the ordinarily aristocratic place
an air of oriental splendor, the interior appointments being
fully in keeping with the promise of sumptuousness which
the reception always gave. Once entered, my operative
had an opportunity to study these appointments.</p>

<p>The carpets were of such rich and heavy texture that
they gave back no sound to the foot-fall, and by an ingenious
arrangement, beneath the lambrequins adorning the
windows, two noiseless fan-like blinds opened or closed
instantly, lighting or darkening the room as suddenly, and
evidently for use during day seances, which were sometimes
given; while opposite, two broad parlors led away,
<i>en suite</i>, to a raised dais at the rear, upon which Miss
Evalena Gray, assisted by Mlle. Leveraux, from Paris,
gave her wonderful spiritual manifestations.</p>

<p>At either side of the centre of the first room, and on
a level with the floor, was a fountain cut in marble,
back into the basin of which the water fell with a dreamy,
tinkling sound which suggested poetical luxuriousness.
Rare statuary filled every accessible niche. Heroic paintings
of the olden times, and the softer, more sensual
paintings of the late French schools, blended together
until they gave the walls a rosy glow. Flowers loading<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span>
the air with fragrance, warmed the room with the color
and life which flowers only can give. Hidden music-boxes
gave forth the rare and blended melodies of sunny,
southern climes; while rich divans, arranged with that
pleasant kind of taste that bespeaks no arrangement at
all, were scattered negligently about the room, now rapidly
being filled with the aristocratic people who had arrived
and were constantly arriving.</p>

<p>My operative, having gained a good point for observation,
now turned his attention to the rapidly-increasing
assemblage. Almost without exception, they were men
and women of evident wealth and leisure, but with
scarcely a face denoting culture and refinement. They
were representatives of that numerous class who, after the
rapid acquirement of money, have found no good thing
with which to occupy their minds, or, what is more probable,
have no minds to be thus occupied; and, while not
giving Spiritualism any public endorsement, secretly follow
its, to them, fascinating superstitions and mysteries,
and practice, in an easy way that prevents scandal or infamous
notoriety, the sensualities which inevitably result
from its teachings or association with those hangers-on of
society professing its belief, all the time building a hope
that a lazy, sensuous heaven may be reached without effort
or struggle by merely cherishing a secret faith in what
most satisfies their animal nature, and yearning to live
hereafter as they most desire to live here&mdash;were it not for
the voice of society&mdash;in a brutal freedom from restraint,
utterly devoid of moral and social purity, and without the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span>
slightest semblance of that law, written and unwritten,
which, from the creation of man and woman, has built
about the domestic relations a protection and defence of
sacred oneness and sanctified exclusiveness which no vandal
dare attack without eventually receiving some just and
certain punishment.</p>

<p>A conscientious detective will allow but little to escape
his attention, and my operative, who had already had considerable
experience with these illusionists, noticed a few
arrangements which the spirits had evidently insisted on
being made to insure the success of Miss Gray's seances,
which were varied in their character, and "never comprised
her entire repertory," as the actors would say, so
that she was able to continue an attraction for some time
to those persons who came to see her and witness her
manifestations out of mere curiosity.</p>

<p>The frescoing of the walls of the back parlor had been
done in lines and angles, which admitted of any number
of apertures being cut and filled with noiseless pantomime
doors, so neatly as to almost defy detection. The semi-circular
platform was raised fully three feet, sloping considerably
to the front, and&mdash;whether it did or not&mdash;might
have contained a half-dozen "traps" such as are used for
stage effects; while, as is contrary to all rules for lighting
places for public entertainment, the front parlor was
lighted very brilliantly, the back parlor scarcely at all,
while but a few glimmering rays fell from the chandeliers
over the platform, where the spirits, like certain "star"
actors, could not appear unless under certain conditions.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span></p><p>Shortly Mlle. Leveraux conducted Miss Gray through a
side door to the platform, and as the latter smiled recognition
to the large number present, exclamations of "Isn't
she sweet?" "How beautiful!" "Almost an angel as she
is!" and other expressions of extreme admiration, filled
the room.</p>

<p>A deft little woman was Evalena Gray; a sprite of a
thing, light, airy, graceful, and with such a gliding,
serpentine motion when walking, glistening with jewels
as she always did, that one instinctively thought of some
lithe and splendid leopard trailing along the edge of a
jungle with an occasional angry flash of sunlight upon it.
From her feet, both of which could have rested within
your hand, and given room for just such another pair, to
her shoulders, which were sloping and narrow though
beautifully symmetrical, she was as straight as an arrow.
Then her slender, faultless neck carried her head a little
forward, with a slight bend to the side, which gave her
face a half-daring or wholly appealing expression, as
people of different temperaments might look at it,
though it always attracted and held an observer, for it
was as strange a face as its owner was a strange woman.
The chin stood there by itself, though shapely, and at the
point was prettily depressed by a little dimple, just
needed to save the lower part of the face from a shrewish
look. Above this the lower lip curved gradually to the
edge of the carmine point, but was stopped there by a
sort of drawn look, which with her dazzling white, though
slightly irregular teeth, thin upper lip quickly parting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span>
from the lower, at either pleasure or anger, rather large,
thin nostrils, which noticeably expanded and contracted
with the rise and fall of her not over large bosom, and her
languid blue eyes, one a trifle more closed than the other,
but both looking demurely from under lashes of wonderful
depth of sweep and length&mdash;all gave the face, which
was witchingly attractive notwithstanding these marked
features, either a plaintively spiritual appearance, or a
wickedly fascinating expression beyond the power of description;
while her hair, of that nameless color which
might be formed of gold and silver, mingled and fell from
her fine head, half hiding her delicate ears&mdash;pretty and faultless
ears they were&mdash;in wonderful richness and profusion.</p>

<p>Never were seen more beautiful hands and fingers than
those belonging to Miss Gray, and they had a way of
assuming all manner of positions in harmony with the
changes of her expressive face and the motions of her
supple form, while her little body was a mere bundle of
pliable bones and elastic sinews, which could compel all
manner of contortions without change of posture, by mere
will-power. She was not a beauty; but altogether, with
her real or assumed languor, her strange eyes that might
mean lasciviousness or might arouse your pity, her
parted lips which would seem to protest of weariness or
be ready to whisper a naughty secret to you, with her
elf-like form that made her appear at once a dainty innocent
thing and a pretty witch&mdash;she was a woman possessing
a terribly fascinating power and capable of any
devilish human accomplishment.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span></p><p>When the murmurs of admiration had died away, she
arose, and in her languid manner especially prepared for
the public, told her audience a long, though interesting
fabrication, of how she first discovered she was possessed
of this blessed spirit-power; how she had at first doubted
it, and endeavored to free herself from its possession;
but finally saw that it could not be forced from her. On
thorough conviction that she was a medium she had
begun a laborious scientific investigation into the subject,
and finally resolved to fathom the remotest secret of
Spiritualism.</p>

<p>But even to her the blessed gates had been barred when
she came with this spirit of unclean scepticism. Still,
being assured that it had been given to her to walk with
celestials, her future course was only a natural sequence.
What had most sorely tried her in this life, she remarked,
was to be herself morally sure of these wonderful mediumistic
powers, and then realize how cruelly the world
scoffed at her as well as at all others who were anchored
upon the same beautiful faith. To prevent this and find
use for her powers in the highest spheres, she had travelled
in Europe from Rome to St. Petersburg, and from Vienna
to London.</p>

<p>In every instance the impossibility of any deception
being practised in her manifestations was admitted; but
until she had arrived in London, she had failed to find
anybody of repute honest enough to speak the truth.
But there she had met a high-minded man who had
broken through the barriers of prejudice, and, in an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span>
open, manly way, fearless of the sneers of the common
herd, or of his business peers, had thoroughly investigated
her exhibitions, found that they had proceeded from
supernatural power, and had publicly stated his belief in
their genuineness.</p>

<p>With such irrefutable evidence of the possession of this
spirit-power, she was now fulfilling her mission of convincing
the public of the existence of these heaven-inspired
phenomena, explainable upon no other possible
theory than that of the inter-communication between this
and the other world of ministering angels, self-determining
their actual existence by more or less perfect materializations.</p>

<p>With this and much more of the same sort, Evalena
Gray began her revelations, all of which had previously
been performed and exposed as ordinary tricks of an illusionary
character, but which were given by the languid,
<i>spirituelle</i> lady with such a show of her being on the threshold
of the celestial spheres, that the very atmosphere, already
charged with everything to provoke mystification
and solemn curiosity, now seemed filled with some weird,
supernatural influence and presence.</p>

<p>First the little lady, who was dressed in white muslin,
with long flowing sleeves exposing very pretty arms, came
down from the platform and seated herself in the centre
of the back parlor, inviting the forming around her of a
circle of from twelve to fifteen persons, who should sit so
closely together that there could be no possibility of her
passing out of the circle, and, if the rest of the audience<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span>
chose, they might form a circle around the inner circle so
that no confederates might reach her. This was done,
when she requested some gentleman to place his feet
upon her tiny feet to assure the audience that she did not
leave her chair.</p>

<p>Members of the mystic circle then clasped hands, and
the lights were turned off completely. The stillness of
death followed, broken only by a low, shuddering sigh
announcing the control of the medium by the spirits, and
immediately after came raps so loud and distinct as to
almost give the impression that an echo followed them.
Then the medium began patting her hands together <em>as an
absolute proof that none of the succeeding manifestations
could by any possible means be produced by her</em>. While
this continued without interruption, in the face of some
came a whispered "God bless you!" others were patted
caressingly upon the face and head; whiskers and mustaches
were delicately tweaked; watches were taken from
one pocket and put into another; a gent's quizzers would
be placed upon a lady's nose, and <i>vice versa</i>; music
floated about in the air over the heads of those composing
the circle; lights were seen to glitter like fire-flies
above the medium's head, and a score of other equally
startling phenomena occurred. When silence, with the exception
of the soft and delicate, but never-varying hand-patting,
again fell upon the assemblage, a few raps announced
the departure of the spirits; and when the gas
was turned on, the dainty little medium sat in precisely
the same position as when the circle was formed, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span>
gentleman had taken good care to hold her neat little feet
between his own. A sceptical lady now held Miss Gray's
feet&mdash;held them as securely as only a sceptical lady could&mdash;when
precisely the same manifestations occurred.
Again her feet were secured as before, with the additional
precaution of their being tied. She was then tied
to her chair securely, her hands tied firmly with a large
handkerchief, and a delicate wine-glass filled with water
placed upon the floor several feet from the chair. The
lights were again turned off, the raps were heard as before,
and were in turn immediately followed by the hand-patting,
and when the room was again lighted the
wine-glass of water was found delicately poised upon
Miss Evalena Gray's head.</p>

<p>Many startling variations of the same general character
were introduced, and when this portion of the seance was
concluded, the astounded company gathered about the
pale and interesting medium with expressions of unbounded
wonder almost amounting to awe, mingled with
terms of endearment; for she sweetly conversed with
them for a little time, and, with rare insight into character,
gave each a pleasant word of recognition especially
fitted to every case, in a manner winning beyond
expression.</p>

<p>She now retired for a short time, while Mlle. Leveraux
entertained the assemblage with selections from her companion's
exceptionally interesting European experiences,
as put in form probably by some enterprising, though impecunious,
New York Bohemian.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span></p><p>When Miss Gray returned she was attired quite differently.
Instead of wearing the white, soft muslin which
had given her a peculiarly graceful appearance, she had
donned a closely-fitting basque of black rep silk, heavily
trimmed with the costliest of lace, while the skirts to her
dress were drawn very tightly around her form into a neat
panier.</p>

<p>It <em>might</em> have been noticed by any other person in the
room, as it <em>was</em> noticed by my operative, <em>that her bust and
shoulders seemed to have undergone considerable change
during her absence</em>. She seemed much more full across
the breast, and her waist was certainly not so narrow and
graceful as when she was operating in muslin within the
circle. But then, the spirits might have caused this sudden
growth, and she was still physically handsome and
shapely.</p>

<p>A committee of gentlemen was then called for, and
Miss Gray announced that she would submit to being
tied to a chair as securely as it was in the power of the
gentlemen selected by the audience to tie her; whereupon
Mlle. Leveraux walked about the room and exhibited
the rope to be used, which, though slender, seemed
strong as a Mexican lasso.</p>

<p>There could have been no deception or fraud about this
rope.</p>

<p>The three who had been selected to do the work then
expressed their determination to tie Miss Gray "so
the devil himself would have to help her," as one said,
proceeding with the interesting operation in the bright<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span>
gaslight, while all the people gathered about as if anxious
to see that it was done properly, or curious to notice how
the little woman would bear the ordeal. They certainly
did their work well, and as the rope was wound around
and about her, being drawn taut in every instance, it
seemed to sink into her delicate flesh in a cruel way that
made her wince and tremble, the operation calling forth
numberless sympathetic remarks from those present,
which she acknowledged by a painful martyr-like smile as
she patiently bore the infliction until thoroughly tied. At
her special request, as she said, to prevent a stoppage of
circulation, her hands were tied at the wrist over a fold of
silk to prevent abrasion of the flesh; and after all the
knots had been sealed with wax, she was pronounced tied
so securely that, without connivance of confederates, it
would require superhuman aid to release her.</p>

<p>With a pleasant smile she looked around upon the
wondering spectators and said:</p>

<p>"Good friends, I will absolutely and incontestably
prove to you that I am possessed of that kind of aid. I
want you all to form a circle around me. Every one in
the room should join it. Stand so closely together, clasping
hands, that no living person can pass the circle either way."</p>

<p>The circle was then formed as she had requested, half
upon the platform and half upon the floor, Miss Gray
being at least ten feet from any of the persons composing
it. She then asked anxiously:</p>

<p>"Are you all really satisfied&mdash;yes, convinced, that there
can be no shadow or form of deception about this?"</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span></p><p>Some hesitated about giving a decided affirmation to
that belief, when she swiftly singled out the doubters and
pressed upon them not only the privilege, but the desirability
and necessity, if they sought the truth, of personally
examining the manner in which she had been tied. After
this had been done and all scepticism had been silenced,
she bade them a cheerful "Good-by!" and closing her
eyes in a weary manner, seemed to pass into a peaceful
slumber, as the lights were gradually turned off, finally
leaving the room in total darkness, and with no sound to
relieve the painful stillness save the orthodox rappings
announcing the arrival of the spirits, the hidden music
stealing softly to the hushed circle or the still softer water-wimplings
from the fountains making <em>their</em> music in the
carved marble basins.</p>

<p>It seemed a long time to the breathless people composing
the circle, but probably not more than ten minutes
had elapsed when the raps again startled the listeners, and
in an instant the full light of the chandeliers flooded the
room.</p>

<p>There sat the marvellous Physical Spiritual Medium
utterly free, but as if just recovering from a swoon&mdash;the
ropes, their seals unbroken, lying a few feet from the
chair.</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<a href="images/322-323-lg.jpg" class="noline">
<img src="images/322-323-sm.jpg" width="400" height="255" alt="" title="" />
<span class="caption"><br /><i>There sat the marvelous Physical-Spiritual medium, utterly free, but as if just recovering from a swoon.&mdash;</i></span></a>
</div>

<p>There was a simultaneous rush to where she was sitting
apparently limp and exhausted from the great struggle
which the spirits had had through her human personality,
to release her from bondage, during which Mlle. Leveraux
took occasion to remark that the strain upon Miss Gray's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span>
powers had been too great, and begged that the ladies
and gentlemen would excuse her at once, as the medium's
condition would unfortunately necessitate the immediate
termination of the seance for that evening; whereupon
she left the room supporting the delicate Miss Gray in a
manner that would have done credit to any theatre in the
world.</p>

<p>There was no illusion and could have been no collusion.</p>

<p>Every one in the parlors had seen the woman tied so
firmly that the ropes had sunk into her very flesh. The
circle had been formed so securely as to admit of the
passage out or in of no person whatever. They had all
seen her sitting in the chair in a secure condition, and
could have heard any movement on the part of any
person within the circle who might have attempted to
steal to her assistance. But there were the ropes with
unbroken seals, lying there, silent but absolute evidence
that no human agency had uncoiled them.</p>

<p>In the face of all this, what were reasoning people to
believe?</p>

<p>They could not but believe the one thing that they
generally did believe after having visited Evalena Gray's
seances, and that was that there <em>does</em> exist an intercommunication
between this and the "Land of the Leal;"
that all persons at times feel these spirit forces working
upon or within them in different forms and with different
degrees of intensity; and that there are these fine organisms,
so free from earthly conditions or hinderances, as to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span>
almost permit the rehabilitation of spirit-lives which, as
truly friendly aids and assistants, often perform what
seem to the comprehension of ordinary mortals as past
belief, giving in their materializations many blessed
glimpses of the spirit-land.</p>

<p>All of which would be thrillingly pleasant to believe
and ruminate over if it was not true that there are probably
hundreds in this country alone who can do this sort
of thing without looking pale and interesting over it;
without necessitating the indorsement of a millionaire
brewer or anybody else; and who would consider it
hardly fair to charge two dollars admission, as Miss
Gray did, for the utter humbug of sitting within a circle
as a woman dexterous enough to have her feet held and
then be able with the left hand to pat the right palm for
a moment, then the right arm&mdash;made bare from the wrist
to the shoulder by the sudden unloosening of a delicate
elastic, clasped into the bracelet&mdash;or her cheek, forehead,
or neck, as necessity compelled, but making this patting
incessant and so like that of the two hands, that detection
(in the dark) would be a matter of impossibility;
and with this same bared right arm and hand producing
all of these manifestations, ordinarily so marvellous, even
to taking a little music-box out of the pocket, springing
a catch to start the melody, "floating" it all about the
heads of those composing the circle, shutting off the
music, and putting the box in the pocket; or even neatly
balancing a wine-glass of water upon the head.</p>

<p>And when this was all done, without claiming any particular
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span>nearness to heaven regarding it either, I am
satisfied that I have lady operatives in my employ who
can step into a room adjoining a seance-parlor, adjust
a rubber jacket, inflate it, hiding the tube of the same
under a closely-fitting collar, allow themselves to be tied
so that the ropes would seem to cruelly sink into the
flesh; and that, after a room had been darkened ten
minutes they would be able to have allowed the air to so
escape from the rubber jacket, that, with the contraction
of the form possible to many, the ropes, with unbroken
seals, would almost fall from their forms of their own
weight.</p>

<p>This is precisely how Miss Evalena Gray performed
her tricks.</p>

<p>They did not reach to the dignity of respectable
sleight-of-hand; and I could go on endlessly multiplying
these farces, which are so continuously and disgustingly
played upon the public for just what money they will
bring and nothing more; for who ever saw a Spiritualist
that went about the world bringing ministering spirits
from heaven to earth for the good such materializations
might do? And further, who ever saw a Spiritualistic
medium, preacher or lecturer that did not make his
religious faith, assumed or otherwise, yield him his living,
and provide him his luxuries besides?</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2>

<div class="chapdesc"><p>After the Seance.&mdash;Daddy, the "Accommodation Husband."&mdash;The
two fascinating Swindlers in Council.&mdash;Miss Evalena's European
Career.&mdash;How the Millionaire Brewer was baited and played with.&mdash;A
Bit of Criminal History.&mdash;A choice Pair.&mdash;Mrs. Winslow's Aspirations
and Resolves.</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">I</span>T appeared that Miss Evalena Gray and Mlle. Leveraux,
and their male companions, or affinities, did not
reside at No. 19 West Twenty-first street, but in more
modest quarters farther down-town; and after the assemblage
had dispersed, the two Misses, an attendant or two,
a tall, gaunt, meek-looking fellow, whom the no longer
angelical Evalena called "Daddy," and a very fascinating
young man called in the advertisements W. Sterling Bischoff,
manager, were gathered in the front parlor previous
to being driven home, when W. Sterling said quickly, and
as if suddenly recollecting something which it would not
be profitable for him to forget:</p>

<p>"See here, Gray; 'most forgot. Here's a note sent
over from the Fifth Avenue. None of your larks now!"</p>

<p>The person addressed so familiarly as Gray was none
other than the interesting Evalena, who, putting her languor
aside, and snatching the note from the "manager,"
said:</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span></p><p>"Give it here, now! I'll lark if I like, and <em>you</em> won't
hinder."</p>

<p>"But there's Mr. Gray," persisted the manager, nodding
towards the meek, gaunt man, whose lips seemed to move,
though he ventured no remark.</p>

<p>"Oh, Daddy don't mind, do you, Daddy?"</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<a href="images/326-327-lg.jpg" class="noline">
<img src="images/326-327-sm.jpg" width="400" height="252" alt="" title="" />
<span class="caption"><br /><i>"Oh daddy don't mind:&mdash;do you daddy?"&mdash;</i></span></a>
</div>

<p>"Daddy" was Miss Evalena Gray's husband, but was
under such peculiarly good spiritual "control" that he
merely smiled a sickly smile and murmured that he believed
not.</p>

<p>Miss Gray proceeded to examine the note without waiting
for the timid Mr. Gray's opinion, and suddenly
exclaimed:</p>

<p>"Gracious! I'm going right over there!"</p>

<p>"What for?" inquired Bischoff anxiously, while Mr.
Gray's lips pursed into the form of an unspoken inquiry;
"man or woman, eh?"</p>

<p>"None of your business!" she answered promptly.
"Here, Leveraux, help me on with my wrappings. You
drive home. A friend of mine that I haven't seen for
all the last three years is stopping over there, and wants to
see me. I may stay all night. If I shouldn't want to, I'll
order a carriage and come down in an hour or two."</p>

<p>The three, who were elegantly supported by this
woman's juggleries, seemed to realize that there was no
use of opposing her; and without knowing whether it
was a man or woman she intended visiting at that hour
of the night, went gloomily home, while a few minutes
later Miss Gray, unannounced, and at the unseasonable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span>
hour of eleven o'clock, was knocking at the door of Mrs.
Winslow's room.</p>

<p>In a moment more, though Mrs. Winslow was on the
point of retiring, and was in that easy <i>déshabillé</i> in which
women love to wander about, doing a hundred unmentionable
and unimportant things before getting into bed
for good, Miss Gray was pushing her lithe form through
the cautiously opened door, and at once unlimbered her
tongue and her reserve; the result of which, as noted by
my operative, showed the eminent vulgarity of the two
female frauds, and illustrated the fact that whatever pretensions
they might make, their conversation alone would
serve to discover the inherent and low vileness of their
character.</p>

<p>"Oh, you dear old fraud!" said Evalena, entering,
after Mrs. Winslow had virtuously given herself sufficient
time to ascertain that there was no evil-minded man at
the door, and had gladly admitted her visitor; "if you've
got any other company, of course I won't come!"</p>

<p>Mrs. Winslow laughed knowingly, and then told her
visitor how really glad she was to see her. She was
sincere in this, and sincerity, even in a bad cause, is a
redeeming feature.</p>

<p>"Well, well, you rascal," continued Miss Gray in a
jolly, rollicking sort of a way, "couldn't wait until
to-morrow. Where <em>have</em> you been, what <em>have</em> you been
doing, and how <em>are</em> you, anyhow? Come, now, tell me
all about yourself!"</p>

<p>Saying this in a kind of a rush of excitement, Miss<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span>
Gray settled herself in a corner of the luxurious sofa,
pulled her feet under her to get a more comfortable
position, and like an interested philosopher, waited for
and listened to the narrative which comprised many of
the facts I have given; but instead of telling the whole
truth, only gave that part of it which made her appear
to have been eminently successful in her swindling operations,
and showed life with her to have been floating
calmly upon one continuous, peaceful stream.</p>

<p>"And now, Evalena," said Mrs. Winslow, rounding off
her story with a great flourish over what she was to make
out of Lyon, whom she described as still madly in love
with her, "where have <em>you</em> been, and what have <em>you</em> been
doing since I saw you at Chardon?"</p>

<p>The glib tongue of the marvellous Physical Spiritual
Medium began at once, and she rattled away at a terrible
rate.</p>

<p>"Well, I've got the same husband&mdash;&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Oh, pshaw!" interrupted Mrs. Winslow half contemptuously.</p>

<p>"But he's such a dear, good old fool that I can't throw
him over. Why, I can make him shrink from six feet two
to two feet six by just looking at him! Money couldn't
hire such a devoted servant anywhere. He'll do just
anything I tell him; and if I want him out of the way
for a few days," she continued with a comical wink, "I
just give him a fifty-dollar bill and say: 'Daddy, you
don't look well; take a run into the country, and I'll
write for you when I want you!' He goes away then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span>
with his face about a yard long. But he goes; and he
never made a rumpus in his life!"</p>

<p>"Oh, that's quite another thing," said Mrs. Winslow,
evidently relieved to know that Miss Gray had had so
good a reason for living so long a time as three years
with the same man.</p>

<p>"Yes, he's what I call an 'accommodation husband.'
He accommodates me, and I&mdash;" here Miss Gray sighed
piously&mdash;"accommodate myself!"</p>

<p>"Exactly," remarked Mrs. Winslow, beginning to appreciate
the pleasant nature of such an arrangement.</p>

<p>"Well," resumed the marvellous medium, "we went
all through the Ohio towns giving <i>exposés</i>; went out
through Chicago, and then down to St. Louis. But the
<i>exposé</i> business didn't pay. We found that people would
pay more money to be humbugged than to learn how
some other person might be deluded!"</p>

<p>"Every time!" tersely observed Mrs. Winslow.</p>

<p>"So at St. Louis we resolved to become Spiritualists."</p>

<p>"The very best thing you could have done!" said
Mrs. Winslow approvingly.</p>

<p>"And at Quincy," resumed Evalena, "we blossomed
out. Oh, but didn't the papers go for us, though!&mdash;called
us everything."</p>

<p>"D&mdash;&mdash;n the newspapers, anyhow!" exclaimed Mrs.
Winslow in a burst of indignation over her own wrongs.</p>

<p>"Oh, no, no, no! <em>that</em> won't do. Make huge advertising
bills. That's better&mdash;much better. That's what
<em>we</em> did, and we made big money too. By and by we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span>
came on here to New York, made a huge show, took in a
vast pile, and then went to Europe. Oh, that's the only
way to do it!"</p>

<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Winslow with a deep sigh. "I have
often felt the want of that peculiar tone which going to
Europe gives one."</p>

<p>"Well, we did have a gay time, though," said Miss
Gray in a dreamy way, as if ruminating over her conquests;
"and at Venice&mdash;oh, that delicious, ravishing,
dreamful Venice!&mdash;I bilked a swarthy nobleman from the
mountains out of five thousand dollars. At Rome I did
a swell American out of everything he had. At Vienna,
a Hungarian wine-grower fell, and I trampled upon him
as his brutes of peasants beat out the grapes in vintage-time.
At Berlin a German student killed himself for me;
and at St. Petersburg I fooled the Czar himself. But
when I got back to London I got better game than him."</p>

<p>"Bigger game than the Czar? Oh, my!" exclaimed
Mrs. Winslow, thinking how she had wasted her sweetness
on two detectives like Bristol and Fox.</p>

<p>"Well, bigger game this way," pursued little Miss Gray,
reasoning it out slowly. "This Spiritualistic business can
only be played on low, ignorant people ordinarily. Get
the recognition of so big a man as one of the wealthiest
brewers in Great Britain, and then, if Miss Gray has
money and can open sumptuous parlors in so fashionable
a vicinity as Madison Square, and can own a quarter of a
column of the New York papers every day, Miss Evalena
Gray's fortune is made. Do you see?"</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span></p><p>Mrs. Winslow did see, but wanted to know how she
had secured such approval.</p>

<p>Her companion looked at her a moment in blank astonishment;
then drawing down the corners of her mouth
as if protesting against such verdancy on the part of so
old a Spiritualistic soldier as Mrs. Winslow, gave a very
expressive series of winks, broke into loud laughter, and
then suggested that if she wanted anything like <em>that</em> explained
it would be no more than fair to order either
Krug or Monopolé to help her through so dreary a recital;
whereupon the latter did as requested, and after
the two had washed down a ribald toast with wine, the
angelic Miss Gray continued:</p>

<p>"Well, you see, we came directly from St. Petersburg
to London, and got up a big excitement there right off.
The <cite>Times</cite> denounced us, and we replied savagely through
the <cite>Telegraph</cite> at a half-crown a line. We kept this up
until all London was engaged in the controversy, and our
rooms were constantly thronged."</p>

<p>"What luck!" sighed Mrs. Winslow, sipping her
wine.</p>

<p>"By and by the 'nobbies' got discussing the matter at the
clubs. We challenged examination by committees everywhere,
of course, and one day a batch of M.P.s, clergymen,
merchants, and all that, came down upon us. I
picked out one man named Perkins&mdash;a brewer from the
Surrey side, and one of the wealthiest men in all England,
and a man of education and standing, too&mdash;for game
right off."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span></p><p>"Must be lots of fools over in London," remarked
Mrs. Winslow, as if she would like to help pluck them.</p>

<p>"Yes," answered Miss Gray, "and millions in this
country. We're going to take a run over to Washington
this winter."</p>

<p>"I would if I had your talent," replied her companion.</p>

<p>"Well," resumed the medium, "I saw Perkins was an
easy-going fellow, and I wrote him, saying it was something
unusual for me to do, but as the 'spirits'"&mdash;here
Miss Gray winked very hard at Mrs. Winslow, who snickered&mdash;"had
revealed to me that he was an arrant unbeliever,
but at the same time a fair, honorable man, magnanimous
enough to be just&mdash;I wished him to make a
private investigation."</p>

<p>"'Private investigation's' good!" said Mrs. Winslow,
laughing heartily.</p>

<p>"Certainly good for me," continued the little medium
in a self-satisfied way. "He came, though, and I gave
him my tricks in my best possible style. I pretty nearly
scared him to death. Then I let him tie me, and the
old man's hands trembled as he put the ropes around my
waist and over my bosom. 'Miss Gray,' said he tenderly,
'I shall injure you!' 'Mr. Perkins,' I replied, also tenderly,
'the good spirits will protect me. Pull the ropes
tighter!'</p>

<p>"He pulled the ropes tighter and tighter, and finally
got me tied. Then he darkened the room and in a few
minutes I was entirely free of the ropes of course, and I
told him to raise the curtain. As soon as he did so I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span>
left, telling him I was ill; and as soon as I could change
my dress, came back and sat down with him. I got close
to him&mdash;as close as I am to you now, Mrs. Winslow&mdash;and
then, putting my right hand on his knee, and my left hand
on his shoulder&mdash;&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Splendid!" interrupted Mrs. Winslow, pouring more
wine for the ingenuous Miss Gray, and taking some herself.</p>

<p>"Then," continued Miss Gray, laughing in a peculiarly
wicked manner, "I got my face pretty close to his and
asked: 'Mr. Perkins, I want you to give me an answer
that you are willing to have made public. On your honor
as a man, do you not now believe in the genuineness of
these spiritual manifestations produced through me?' 'I
do,' he said passionately, throwing his arms around me,
and&mdash;and I don't know what he would have done had not
Leveraux entered the room at that supreme moment!"</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
<a href="images/334-335-lg.jpg" class="noline">
<img src="images/334-335-sm.jpg" width="400" height="260" alt="" title="" />
<span class="caption"><br /><i>"Leveraux entered the room at that supreme moment."&mdash;</i></span></a>
</div>

<p>"Oh, <em>I</em> see!" murmured the other blackmailer.</p>

<p>"Think of it, Mrs. Winslow!" added Miss Gray
tauntingly; "think of it! In the arms of a man who can
draw his check for a million sterling&mdash;and poor little me
from Chardon, Ohio!"</p>

<p>"My! but you are a little rascal, though!" said Mrs.
Winslow admiringly. "I always knew you'd make an
impression somewhere."</p>

<p>"'Leveraux!' said I indignantly, and springing from
Perkins's embrace after I had kissed him in a way that set
him shaking again, 'if you ever breathe a word of this,
or annoy Mr. Perkins in any manner under heaven, I'll
kill you! Go!'</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span>
"Poor Leveraux knew her cue and replied hotly, 'I'd
kill myself before I'd do so disgraceful an act!' and then
flounced out of the room."</p>

<p>"<em>What</em> a pair!" exclaimed Mrs. Winslow.</p>

<p>"He thought I was just perfectly splendid after that;
kept coming and coming, indorsed me publicly, got
wild over me; but I held him at arm's length for months,
until I thought the man would really go crazy; and finally&mdash;well,
you know I told you Daddy was an 'accommodation
husband,' and if he hadn't been one after I had
tripped up one of the richest men in all England, I
would have just hired somebody to have dumped him into
the Thames, sure!"</p>

<p>The sparkling flow of Miss Gray's experience was here
interrupted by Mrs. Winslow's ordering another bottle of
wine, and after the couple had partaken of the same, the
spicy narrative was continued:</p>

<p>"But now comes the fun, Winslow. I can't tell you
<em>how</em> my rope trick is done. I've got a little addition to
it that makes it a regular sensation. It don't hurt me a
particle, and allows the strongest men to pull away with all
their might."</p>

<p>"I'd give a thousand dollars for it, Evalena," said her
friend warmly.</p>

<p>"No good; no good for you," replied Miss Gray,
critically looking over Mrs. Winslow's splendid physical
completeness. "Fact is, Winslow, you aren't built
exactly right for that kind of work. There's too much
of you to do the rope trick with eminent success. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span>
played Daddy as my brother, and myself for an innocent,
so neatly that Perkins honestly thought he had made a
wonderful conquest. He believed it all, for he was one of
those honest fools&mdash;in fact, came near being too honest
for me."</p>

<p>"Why, how?"</p>

<p>"Well, he installed me as his mistress in grand style;
but, of course, I insisted in giving seances and compelled
public recognition through <em>his</em> public recognition of my
'wonderful spirit-power.' The man was so infatuated
that he bored me terribly with his visits. Why, I could
hardly get time to attend to business. You know we
always have a stock of ropes on hand in the seance-rooms,
so that when any one objects to the one I ordinarily use,
there are always other ropes at hand that I <em>can</em> use. One
night some fellow broke my best rope, and the next day I
was carelessly practising with another with my door unsecured.
Perkins had been down to Brighton for a week
or two, and of course had to rush over to see me the
minute he got in London&mdash;to give me a 'happy surprise,'
I suppose. There I sat when he suddenly bolted into
the room and saw the thinness of the whole thing in an
instant."</p>

<p>"What did he see?" asked Mrs. Winslow abruptly.</p>

<p>"You <em>are</em> shrewd, Winslow, but you can't catch me
that way; no, no, no! But he did see the whole trick as
dear as a June day. Do you think I fainted?"</p>

<p>"Not much," said her companion tersely.</p>

<p>"No; but <em>he</em> nearly did. He reeled and staggered as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span>
though he had been struck by a sledge-hammer, and I
saw in his face a determination to rush from the room and
denounce me to all London. It was make or break with
me then, Winslow, and with a bound I got to the door,
turned the key, and sent it crashing through a five-pound
pane of glass into the street below. Then I just whipped
out this little derringer," she continued, producing a beautifully
mounted, though diminutive weapon, "just run it
right up under his eyes, and backed him into a seat."</p>

<p>"'Great God!' he whimpered, 'I'm undone! I'm undone!&mdash;what
a very devil you are!'</p>

<p>"My heart did go thumping to see the man used up so;
but I had to be rough, and said: 'Yes, I <em>am</em> a devil, Perkins,
and you must pledge me your word&mdash;yes, you must
take a solemn oath before that God you have called upon,
that you will never expose me, or I will blow your brains
out!'"</p>

<p>"Splendid! splendid!" ejaculated Mrs. Winslow.
"Did he do it?"</p>

<p>"I should say he did do it! He got down on his knees
and begged like a baby. And do you know, my blood
was up so then, and I so despised him for his want of
manliness, that I came within an ace of killing the infernal
booby!"</p>

<p>"He deserved it!" said Mrs. Winslow sympathetically.</p>

<p>"After I had him nearly scared to death," resumed the
marvellous medium, "I began reasoning with him, and,
by being excruciatingly tender, convinced him that by
exposing me he would gain nothing, but would lose in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span>
everything that a man of spirit prided in&mdash;honor, social
reputation, and business standing, and drew a lively picture
of his disgrace at the clubs and in social circles, and of the
cartoons which would certainly appear in <cite>Punch</cite> and the
other comic papers; and the result was that I held on to
his affection and his purse-strings by compelling him to
feel that my detaining him in the room and threatening to
shoot him was the only thing which prevented him from
rashly ruining both. Altogether, Winslow, I got over two
thousand pounds out of him. He wasn't deprived of a first-class
mistress while I remained in London, and&mdash;and we
are so good friends now that every little while I get a splendid
remittance from him; and if I ever should want to go
back, I could have the very best in all England!"</p>

<p>"Well, well, well!" murmured Mrs. Winslow for the
want of something better with which to express her
admiration.</p>

<p>"I <em>do</em> think I played it pretty well," resumed Miss
Gray; "and I made him swallow it all, too. He really
believed everything from the moment I fell into his arms
until he caught me with the ropes. I was his spirit-wife&mdash;"
another hard wink&mdash;"and he my only affinity. Leveraux
helped me in the whole thing splendidly.</p>

<p>"Who is Mlle. Willie Leveraux?" inquired Mrs.
Winslow.</p>

<p>"She is a sister of Ed. Johnson, the 'bank-burster,'
and a keen girl, too," answered the medium.</p>

<p>"How did you happen to get hold of her?"</p>

<p>"Well, you see, Ed. Johnson, Mose Wogle, Frank<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span>
Dean&mdash;'Dago Frank'&mdash;and Dave Cummings, with Chief
of Police McGillan and Detective Royal, of Jersey City,
put up a job on the First National Bank there. McGillan
was to keep everybody away from them; and he, or
Royal, was to always remain at headquarters to let the
boys off if they got nabbed. They played it as plaster-workers&mdash;Italians,
you know&mdash;and began working from a
room over the bank down through the ceiling into the
vault; but an old scrub-woman about the place got suspicious,
and had them arrested one day when both McGillan
and Royal happened to be in Philadelphia. They
had promised the boys help to break jail, but they failed
everywhere; and Willie, thinking to get Johnson off, went
to the bank officers and told them the whole story. They
promised to help her brother, but said her evidence would
have to be corroborated. So she sent for McGillan and
Royal, got them into her rooms, then over on Thirty-seventh
street, and had a Hoboken official in a closet,
with a stenographer, who took all the conversation, which
amounted to a complete confession of their complicity.
It never did any good, though. McGillan and Royal
got the most swearing done, and got clear; while Johnson
and the rest of the boys got fifteen years' solitary confinement
in the New Jersey penitentiary. It almost
broke Willie down; but she is splendid help now."</p>

<p>Mrs. Winslow drew a long sigh, and the two drank
again to drown the doleful feelings raised by this recital;
for even high-toned and uncaught criminals do not find
the contemplation of stone walls and iron bars by any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span>
means pleasant and refreshing; and with this lively history
of herself and her companions, the "Marvellous
Physical Spiritual Medium" called a servant, ordered a
conveyance, and was driven home, after having promised
to call with her own carriage on the next day; while Mrs.
Winslow, after surveying her own magnificent physique as
reflected in the pier-glass, muttered:</p>

<p>"<em>I'll</em> make an effort, go to Europe, and, like so many
others, win fame too!"</p>

<p>Then with a resolute toss of her head the adventuress
plumped into her bed, where, for aught we know, she
carried on her vile conquests and miserable villainies in
her dreams the whole night long.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2>

<div class="chapdesc"><p>Mrs. Winslow demonstrates her Legal Ability.&mdash;The "Breach of
Promise Trial."&mdash;A grand Rally of the Spiritualistic Friends of the
Adventuress.&mdash;The Jury disagree.&mdash;Mrs. Winslow convicted at
St. Louis of Common Barratry.&mdash;An honest Judge's Rebuke.&mdash;A
new Trial.&mdash;The Spiritualistic Swindler overthrown.&mdash;Remorse and
Wretchedness.</p></div>

<p><span class="dropcap">M</span>RS. WINSLOW'S stay in New York was rather
an interruption to Miss Evalena Gray's business,
as those two champions of the theory that earth and
heaven are connected by a spiritual hyphen only adjustable,
or to be made serviceable, by the brainless imbeciles
or the remorseless sharks of society, to the
exclusion of people of purity and worth, indulged in
several lapses from sobriety, and in spiritual love-feasts of
such remarkable length and enthusiasm that W. Sterling
Bischoff, Mlle. Leveraux, and the mournful accommodation
husband, "Daddy," became quite alarmed for the result,
were obliged to discontinue the marvellous seances
at No. Nineteen West Twenty-first Street&mdash;on account
of the "alarming illness of the fascinating little medium,"
as the manager was careful to see that the truthful newspapers
announced&mdash;and at the close of a term of spirituous
rapture of remarkable intensity and duration, the
three who were vitally interested in Miss Gray's recovery<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span>
from her peculiarly alarming illness, managed to part the
loving couple, induce the languid Evalena to return to
her fascinations and fools, and sent Mrs. Winslow to
Rochester and her roguery.</p>

<p>Although her trip to New York had been one of prolonged
dissipation, Mrs. Winslow had evidently gained
courage from it from the assurance of Miss Gray's friendship,
and through that ingenious little woman's recitals
of daring and conquest now applied herself with new
vigor and dash to her infamous work.</p>

<p>During her absence in New York, Superintendent
Bangs and a legal gentleman from Rochester had proceeded
to the West and were rapidly gathering in the harvest
of evidence I had reaped, and which subsequently
became so serviceable.</p>

<p>Mrs. Winslow, seeing she had been outwitted, began
diligently arranging matters for the coming trial, and
having lost the main point of dependence which she had
hoped to make in our inability to use the evidence which
she was sure Lyon's counsel could get by a liberal expenditure
of money, which she also knew must be at
hand, she began the tactics of delay, and secured a change
of venue from Rochester to Batavia, on the ground of
prejudice; and, without the assistance of counsel, boldly
manœuvred her case nearly as carefully and judiciously
as the most proficient of criminal lawyers.</p>

<p>Ascertaining that Lyon's counsel had secured damaging
evidence against her in those sections of country
where she had previously been the spiritualistic harlot<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span>
that she was, she rapidly followed Mr. Bangs and his companion,
and through her wonderful personal magnetism,
physical force, consummate bravado, and skilful manipulations,
succeeded in securing numberless affidavits&mdash;not
that she was a pure woman, but that as far as the affiant
knew, she was not a bad woman.</p>

<p>Some, who had given Lyon's counsel depositions comprehensive
enough to have crushed her in court, were
compelled by her to depose under oath that their previous
depositions given Mr. Bangs were made under a misapprehension
of facts. Others were induced to swear that
they were mistaken in her identity, which would naturally
have the effect of breaking the chain of evidence connecting
her with her numberless different aliases, and therefore
with her numberless offences against the laws and
society; so that unless our work had been, in this respect,
anything but faultless, Mr. Lyon would have certainly
suffered defeat.</p>

<p>As the date of trial at Batavia neared, however,
although the woman had showed great skill in her management
of her own case, and had got things into as good
shape for herself as nearly any lawyer in the country
could have done, she suddenly changed her decision regarding
conducting the case personally, and engaged the
services of a Rochester lawyer of good repute, who certainly
would not have pleaded her cause had he at first
been aware of her character in the slightest degree.</p>

<p>At last the case came to trial at Batavia, Judge
Williams presiding, and was considered of sufficient importance
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span>to command the quite general attention of
newspapers, and a large number of reporters were in attendance,
while the little city had never before attracted
such a crowd of curious people, brought there and kept
there by the great interest which the trial had awakened.</p>

<p>Mr. Lyon seldom appeared in court, being detained in
Rochester by the faithful and still voluble Harcout,
where the latter busied himself in predicting Mrs. Winslow's
downfall on account of the thorough manner in
which he had conducted matters, and in constant trips to
the newspaper and telegraph offices for the latest news
concerning the progress of the case.</p>

<p>At Batavia Mrs. Winslow had in some unexplainable
manner worked up quite a feeling in her behalf, and had
busily engaged herself, laboring day and night, in all the
little things that form public opinion as well as cause the
application of law to individual preferences, whether
justice enters into such decisions or not.</p>

<p>Especially was her business ability shown in securing a
jury a portion of whom she brazenly boasted <em>dare</em> not
find for the defendant. She had evidently given up all
expectation of a verdict in her favor; but, in perfect
accord with her line of policy to annoy her victim into a
settlement, had arranged matters in every respect so that
there would be delay, that as much as possible nauseating
scandal should reach the public to react upon Lyon,
and that in every way the outcome of the case would be to
belittle, bemean and disgrace him, for having had to do in
any way with so bad a woman as she knew herself to be.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span></p><p>The latter was a point most people's pride would prevent
them from making. She had lost that, but her
active mind saw how revolting it all would be to him, and
her cupidity, greed and vindictiveness made the prosecution
a persecution that had a measure of fiendish pleasure
in it for her.</p>

<p>Here her mental and her pecuniary resources were
again demonstrated in a way that surprised everybody at
all cognizant of her habits and history. The cost of
carrying on a case of this importance was very large.
Money had unquestionably been largely used in bribery.
Many of the affidavits she had so expeditiously secured had
been purchased outright. The court costs were no inconsiderable
sum. Her lawyer, feeling somewhat doubtful of
her character, and wholly satisfied of her irresponsibility,
demanded his fee&mdash;and it was a large one&mdash;in advance.
But every demand, save those that would not injure her
case by refusing, was promptly met, and the mysterious
source of supply seemed as exhaustless at the end as at the
beginning; though at all times she was a female combination
of the Artful Dodger and Job Trotter, capable of compelling
confidence and sympathy. During the progress of
the trial she also had time for the practice of her spiritualistic
mummeries, and so worked upon the ignorance, passions,
and pockets of a few wealthy farmers, who were in
attendance at court, that she drove a thriving trade in revelations
and prophecies that, whatever other effect they
might have, certainly brought her large sums of money.</p>

<p>Although the larger amount of evidence on both sides<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span>
was of a documentary character, the case occupied nearly
a week, and public interest was wrought up to the highest
possible pitch of excitement as day after day some
startling episode or dramatic incident was developed;
and finally, when Judge Williams charged the jury and
that body retired for consultation, both sides of the case
had been so ably conducted, such a terrible flood of vileness
had been launched upon the community, and so intense
was the feeling against the woman on the part of
the public&mdash;who condemn with a terrible intensity when
once made aware of the danger in the heart and life of a
social assassin, that the pretty city of Batavia was all
awhirl from agitation and excitement.</p>

<p>All this had been greatly increased by the following
dispatches from St. Louis to the Rochester papers, which
had, of course, been received and widely read in that section,
and were all preceded by an item clipped from the
Detroit <cite>Tribune</cite>, to the effect that the notorious female,
Mrs. Winslow, had been indicted in St. Louis as a common
scold, and several public speakers therein named had
better take warning. The first dispatch read:</p>

<p>"The trial of Mrs. Winslow, charged with common
barratry, has been proceeding in the Four Courts all day.
Scores of lawyers are here from all parts of the West, as
witnesses for the prosecution. The case excites great interest,
a similar one never having occurred in St. Louis
before."</p>

<p>The second and final dispatch from St. Louis on the
subject was:</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span></p><p>"The case of the notorious Mrs. Winslow, indicted for
common barratry, terminated to-day. The jury assessed
her punishment to be six months' imprisonment in the
county jail."</p>

<p>These dispatches, with the editorial comments they
evoked, had been received during the progress of the case,
and though it was too late to offer the facts in evidence
as to the woman's character, they had intensified the
feeling against her until Mrs. Winslow was given an opportunity
of realizing something of the depth of human scorn.</p>

<p>A day passed, but no agreement. What could it mean?
the public asked. The second day, being Sunday, passed
slowly over the town, for no news of the jury could be obtained;
and though it was a raw winter's day, the streets
were full of people anxious to learn the result. Monday
came and went, and still the jury were out. Whispers of
bribery now began to fly about the city, and when the
fourth day had passed with no agreement and with repeated
requests from the jury that they might be discharged,
the whole city was filled with indignation, while public resentment
ran so high that it was with some personal risk
that this exponent of Spiritualism passed to and fro between
the court-room and her hotel.</p>

<p>Finally, it being ascertained that the jury disagreed irreconcilably,
they were called into court for their discharge,
and filed solemnly into their box. After a silence that
could be felt had settled upon the vast audience, Judge
Williams wheeled around, and, facing the jury&mdash;many of
whom shrank from his severe and penetrating glance&mdash;in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span>
voice of quiet power, his whole bearing being one of dignified
scorn, he delivered with great solemnity the following
well-deserved rebuke and protest against the corruption
of the power of the jury, and its contempt of justice and
the sacred dignity of the Court:</p>

<p>"<span class="smcap">Gentlemen of the Jury</span>&mdash;I had hoped you would
agree upon a verdict. The cause is a plain one, and there
is no need of a disagreement. Another trial would be
expensive to the county, and would occupy much time.
A second trial would again crowd this court-room with a
throng of auditors, who would listen day after day to the
disgusting depositions which are on file in this cause.
One trial such as this is too much for the decency and
morality of any community, and another jury should
never be called to pass upon this case. It is the policy
of all courts to secure agreements from juries, and in
such a case as this, more than in almost any other, a disagreement
should not be allowed.</p>

<p>"You are, after being out four days, irreconcilably divided.
Some of you, I know, are determined to be only
guided by the evidence and the law, as given to you by
this Court. For your long and persistent resistance of
all attempts on the part of some of your number to prevent
justice, you are entitled to my sincere thanks and
those of all right-minded men in this community. Others
there are upon this jury who, I am bound to believe, have
consulted only their passions and prejudices; have deliberately
ignored the evidence and the instruction of the
Court, and are anxious to perpetrate what they know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span>
or might have known, was gross injustice. If there are
such men upon this jury, their conduct merits severest
condemnation. I have great respect for the honest convictions
of jurors, even when I think they are wrong. I
could not censure jurors for honest prejudices; but I can
have no respect for men who, from base and unworthy
motives, seek to secure unworthy ends.</p>

<p>"If any one was to look leniently upon the plaintiff, it
would, of course, be her counsel. But to make twelve
honest men ever see that she was entitled to a verdict of
even one cent, is a work that transcends human ability.</p>

<p>"One of the plainest principles of law applicable to
all civil cases, is that the plaintiff can only recover where
there is a fair preponderance of evidence in his favor.
Upon the principal question in this case&mdash;that is, whether
or not there was an agreement of marriage between plaintiff
and defendant&mdash;they were the only witnesses. Supposing
both to be equally credible, how can the plaintiff
recover when every act affirmed by her is denied by the
defendant? But are they equally credible? The defendant
is proved by the evidence to be a man of character,
reputation, and social position. Who is the plaintiff?
By her own evidence she is one who years ago deserted her
husband and three children in Wisconsin, and commenced
the life of an itinerant fortune-teller. Since then, as a clairvoyant,
a mesmerist, a medium, she has perambulated the
country, professing in her handbills to predict future events
and to cure all manner of diseases by her occult arts.</p>

<p>"She has assumed in her travels those invariable proofs<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span>
of guilt, <i>aliases</i>. She has been proven, by her own writing,
daily conversation, and every-day conduct, to be
grossly profane and indecent. By the testimony of several
unimpeached witnesses, produced by defendant, she is
shown to have been an inmate of a house, or houses, of
ill-fame, and to have committed acts of the most shocking
indecency and lewdness. And yet this is the woman
whose testimony some of you have received with absolute
verity, while rejecting the testimony of the defendant as
of no value in comparison with it. The question before
you was, whether between this woman and the defendant
there had been a binding contract of marriage. There is
no one of you so low that you would have entered into
such an obligation with this woman. You would have
started back in horror at such a proposition; and yet you
have been so lost to decency that you have seemed determined,
by your verdict, to thrust such a disgrace and outrage
upon the defendant!</p>

<p>"You were told by the Court that if the plaintiff was
married at the time when she said the defendant agreed to
marry her, such a promise was absolutely void. The
plaintiff had herself sworn that the promise was made in
186&mdash;, and that she was then, and had remained for nearly
two years thereafter, a married woman. Did not the
Court tell you that such a promise was void? The Court
told you that no subsequent ratification of such a promise
could make it binding. The Court further instructed you
that if the plaintiff was unchaste at the time of the promise
of marriage, and her unchastity was not known to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span>
defendant, that the marriage contract, if entered into, was
not binding. The entire record in this case teems with
the history of her licentiousness. No witness has been so
reckless as to swear that within the last ten years she has
had either virtuous habits or virtuous associations. That
she was virtuous in 1860, or rather, that if then vicious,
her character in this regard was then unknown to her
neighbors in Indiana and Wisconsin, is rendered highly
probable from the evidence. But there was a period preceding
this by many years, when the maiden merged into
the woman, that the almost exhaustless evidence produced
by the defendant shows to have been a time without
shame, and when her keen shrewdness and wicked nature
had already been developed to a degree of depravity beyond
human belief; and there has since been a period
when the vilest inmate of the lowest den of prostitution
was happy in her virgin purity in comparison with this
woman!</p>

<p>"Previous to the first-mentioned time the plaintiff had
followed the army of the Southwest in its weary marches&mdash;not,
however, as the evidence discloses, for any honest
purpose. She had wandered infinitely further from purity
than from her Northern home. And yet you have at
tempted to render a verdict that after all these wanderings,
and after this incomparably vile career, she is fit to
become the wife of a respectable citizen of Rochester,
the mistress of his mansion, and the sharer of his large
fortune.</p>

<p>"You were further instructed that if a promise of marriage
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span>had been made, and if the plaintiff had at that time
been virtuous, and had subsequently become unchaste
the defendant was released from the obligation of such
a promise; what regard, in view of the evidence in this
case, have you paid to that instruction?</p>

<p>"Am I too severe, then, when I say that when, through
four long days and nights in your jury room, some of this
jury have attempted to force a verdict in favor of the
plaintiff, notwithstanding she was not entitled to it, and
the defendant's witnesses had proven that she was utterly
unworthy of it, you have been actuated by passion and
prejudice, and have attempted to pervert justice? Had
you been able to infect all your comrades with your
pestilential breath, and had a verdict in her favor been
rendered, I should certainly have set it aside immediately.</p>

<p>"I cannot but express my severest censure at the result
of this cause at your hands, knowing, as I cannot but
know, that the same vile machinations which have left a
hideous trail of this female monster over every portion
of the land, have brought about this disagreement which
is a shame and a disgrace to yourselves, to Genesee
County, and this Court!"</p>

<p>The suit necessarily went over to the next term of
court, over which Judge Williams also presided, when no
developments worthy of note occurred, the same evidence
being introduced, the same tactics on the part of Mrs.
Winslow&mdash;who, however, had been obliged to secure new
counsel&mdash;being attempted, and the same crowd of morbid
curiosity-seekers being in attendance.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span></p><p>But the woman had by this time become too well
known for the slightest hope of success, or even to enable
her to receive the ordinary consideration and protection
of the Court.</p>

<p>Without leaving their seats the jury found for the
defendant, and the woman, defeated yet insolent and daring,
passed out into the summer-decked streets of the
little city of Batavia a scorned, dreaded being, driven
from everything but infamous memory.</p>

<p>I was never sufficiently interested in Le Compte to
trace his future, but it is safe to say that he never visited
"La belle France" and "Paris, the beautiful, the sublime,
the magnificent," in company with the once fascinating
Mrs. Winslow.</p>

<p>Harcout is still the pompous henchman of the harassed
millionaire, Mr. Lyon, and quite covered himself
with glory from having claimed the entire work of securing
the evidence that caused the overthrow of the adventuress.</p>

<p>Were I a novelist, rather than a detective and obliged
to relate facts, I could have made an effective climax by
a tragic meeting between Harcout and Mrs. Winslow,
where Lilly Nettleton would have recognized the Rev.
Mr. Bland and wreaked summary vengeance upon him;
but, so far as I am aware, they never met, and the much-named
social scourge is now wearing out an inconceivably
vile and wretched old age&mdash;the irrevocable result of her
course of life&mdash;an outcast and a wanderer among the
lowest classes that people portions of the Pacific Slope<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</a></span>
cities, with remorse and wretchedness behind, and utter
hopelessness beyond; while Mr. Lyon, now a feeble old
man, who has atoned, through regrets and humiliations,
for his part of the wrong launched through his as well as
her sin upon society, has at least become thoroughly
satisfied of the thousands of evils following in the trail of
this so-called spirit-power, his fulness of knowledge of its
workings having been gained through this particular experience
with <span class="smcap">The Spiritualists and the Detectives</span>.</p>

<p id="end">THE END.</p>

<p class="center med"><b>G. W. DILLINGHAM, Successor.</b></p>

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<p class="center"><span class="pad-r">1889.</span> 1889.</p>

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<tr><td>Edna Browning</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>West Lawn</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Mildred</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Forrest House</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Madeline</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Christmas Stories</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Gretchen <span class="pad-l">(New)</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
</table>

<h3>Charles Dickens&mdash;15 Vols.&mdash;"Carleton's Edition."</h3>

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" width="65%">
<tr><td>Pickwick and Catalogue</td><td align='right'>$1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Dombey and Son</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Bleak House</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Martin Chuzzlewit</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Barnaby Rudge&mdash;Edwin Drood</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Child's England&mdash;Miscellaneous</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Christmas Books&mdash;Two Cities</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Oliver Twist&mdash;Uncommercial</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>David Copperfield</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Nicholas Nickleby</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Little Dorrit</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Our Mutual Friend</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Curiosity Shop&mdash;Miscellaneous</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Sketches by Boz&mdash;Hard Times</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Great Expectations&mdash;Italy</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td><em>Full Sets</em> in half calf bindings</td> <td align='right'>50 00</td></tr>
</table>

<h3>Marion Harland's Novels.</h3>

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" width="65%">
<tr><td>Alone</td><td align='right'>$1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Hidden Path</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Moss Side</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Nemesis</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Miriam</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>At Last</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Sunnybank</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Ruby's Husband</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>My Little Love</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>True as Steel <span class="pad-l">(New)</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
</table>

<h3>Augusta J. Evans' Novels.</h3>

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" width="65%">
<tr><td>Beulah</td><td align='right'>$1 75</td></tr>
<tr><td>Macaria</td><td align='right'>1 75</td></tr>
<tr><td>Inez</td><td align='right'>1 75</td></tr>
<tr><td>At the Mercy of Tiberius <span class="pad-l">(New)</span></td><td align='right'>2 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>St. Elmo</td><td align='right'>2 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Vashti</td><td align='right'>2 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Infelice</td><td align='right'>2 00</td></tr>
</table>

<h3>May Agnes Fleming's Novels.</h3>

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" width="65%">
<tr><td>Guy Earlscourt's Wife</td><td align='right'>$1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>A Wonderful Woman</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>A Terrible Secret</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>A Mad Marriage</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Norine's Revenge</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>One Night's Mystery</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Kate Danton</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Silent and True</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Maude Percy's Secret</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Midnight Queen <span class="pad-l">(New)</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Heir of Charlton</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Carried by Storm</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Lost for a Woman</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>A Wife's Tragedy</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>A Changed Heart</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Pride and Passion</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Sharing Her Crime</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>A Wronged Wife</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Actress Daughter</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Queen of the Isle</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
</table>

<h3>Allan Pinkerton's Works.</h3>

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" width="65%">
<tr><td>Expressman and Detectives</td><td align='right'>$1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Mollie Maguires and Detectives</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Somnambulists and Detectives</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Claude Melnotte as a Detective</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Criminal Reminiscences, etc.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Rail-Road Forger, etc.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Bank Robbers and Detectives</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>A Double Life <span class="pad-l">(New)</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Gypsies and Detectives</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Spiritualists and Detectives</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Model Town and Detectives</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Strikers, Communists, etc.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Mississippi Outlaws, etc.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Bucholz and Detectives</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Burglar's Fate and Detectives</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
</table>

<h3>Bertha Clay's Novels.</h3>

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" width="65%">
<tr><td>Thrown on the World</td><td align='right'>$1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>A Bitter Atonement</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Love Works Wonders</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Evelyn's Folly</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Under a Shadow</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Beyond Pardon</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Earl's Atonement</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>A Woman's Temptation</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Repented at Leisure</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>A Struggle for a Ring</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Lady Damer's Secret</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Between Two Loves</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Put Asunder <span class="pad-l">(New)</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
</table>

<h3>"New York Weekly" Series.</h3>

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" width="65%">
<tr><td>Brownie's Triumph&mdash;Sheldon</td><td align='right'>$1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Forsaken Bride. <span class="pad-l">do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Earl Wayne's Nobility. <span class="pad-l">do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Lost, a Pearle. <span class="pad-l">do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Young Mrs. Charnleigh&mdash;Henshew</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>His Other Wife&mdash;Ashleigh</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>A Woman's Web&mdash;Maitland</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Curse of Everleigh&mdash;Pierce</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Peerless Cathleen&mdash;Agnew</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Faithful Margaret&mdash;Ashmore</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Nick Whiffles&mdash;Robinson</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Grinder Papers&mdash;Dallas</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Lady Lenora&mdash;Conklin</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Stella Rosevelt&mdash;Sheldon <span class="pad-l">(New)</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
</table>

<h3>Miriam Coles Harris' Novels.</h3>

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" width="65%">
<tr><td>Rutledge</td><td align='right'>$1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Louie's Last Term, St. Mary's</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Sutherlands</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Frank Warrington</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
</table>

<h3>A. S. Roe's Select Stories.</h3>

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" width="65%">
<tr><td>True to the Last</td><td align='right'>$1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Star and the Cloud</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>How Could He Help it?</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>A Long Look Ahead</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>I've Been Thinking</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>To Love and to be Loved</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
</table>

<h3>Julie P. Smith's Novels.</h3>

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" width="65%">
<tr><td>Widow Goldsmith's Daughter</td><td align='right'>$1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Chris and Otho</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Ten Old Maids</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Lucy</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>His Young Wife</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Widower</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Married Belle</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Courting and Farming</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Kiss and be Friends</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Blossom Bud <span class="pad-l">(New)</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
</table>

<h3>Artemas Ward.</h3>

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" width="100%">
<tr><td>Complete Comic Writings&mdash;With Biography. Portrait and 50
    illustrations</td>
<td align="right">$1&nbsp;50</td></tr>
</table>

<h3>The Game of Whist.</h3>

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" width="100%">
<tr><td>Pole on Whist&mdash;The English Standard Work. With the "Portland
    Rules"</td>
<td align="right">$&nbsp;75</td></tr>
</table>

<h3>Victor Hugo's Great Novel.</h3>

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" width="100%">
<tr><td>Les Miserables&mdash;Translated from the French. The only complete
    edition</td>
<td align="right">$1&nbsp;50</td></tr>
</table>

<h3>Mrs. Hill's Cook Book.</h3>

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" width="100%">
<tr><td>Mrs. A. P. Hill's New Southern Cookery Book, and domestic
    receipts</td>
<td align="right">$2&nbsp;00</td></tr>
</table>

<h3>Celia E. Gardner's Novels.</h3>

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" width="65%">
<tr><td>Stolen Waters. (In verse)</td><td align='right'>$1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Broken Dreams. <span class="pad-l">do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Compensation. <span class="pad-l">do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>A Twisted Skein. <span class="pad-l">do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Tested</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Rich Medway</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>A Woman's Wiles</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Terrace Roses</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
</table>

<h3>Captain Mayne Reid's Works.</h3>

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" width="65%">
<tr><td>The Scalp Hunters.</td><td align='right'>$1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Rifle Rangers.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>The War Trail.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Wood Rangers.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Wild Huntress.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>The White Chief.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Tiger Hunter.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Hunter's Feast.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Wild Life.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Osceola, the Seminole.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
</table>

<h3>Popular Hand-Books.</h3>

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" width="100%">
<tr><td>The Habits of Good Society&mdash;The nice points of taste and good
manners.</td><td align='right'>$1&nbsp;00</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Art of Conversation&mdash;For those who wish to be agreeable
talkers.</td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Arts of Writing, Reading and Speaking&mdash;For
Self-Improvement.</td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>New Diamond Edition&mdash;The above three books in one volume&mdash;small
type.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Carleton's Hand-Book of Popular Quotations.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Carleton's Classical Dictionary.</td><td align='right'>75</td></tr>
<tr><td>1000 Legal Don'ts&mdash;By Ingersoll Lockwood.</td><td align='right'>75</td></tr>
<tr><td>600 Medical Don'ts&mdash;By Ferd. C. Valentine, M.D.</td><td align='right'>75</td></tr>
<tr><td>Address of the Dead&mdash;By Charles C. Marble.</td><td align='right'>75</td></tr>
<tr><td>The P. G. or Perfect Gentleman&mdash;By Ingersoll Lockwood.</td><td align='right'>1 25</td></tr>
</table>

<h3>Josh Billings.</h3>

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" width="100%">
<tr><td>His Complete Writings&mdash;With Biography, Steel Portrait and 100
    Illustrations.</td>      <td align='right'>$2&nbsp;00</td></tr>
</table>

<h3>Annie Edwardes' Novels.</h3>

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" width="65%">
<tr><td>Stephen Lawrence.</td><td align='right'>$1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Susan Fielding.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>A Woman of Fashion.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Archie Lovell.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
</table>

<h3>Ernest Renan's French Works.</h3>

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" width="65%">
<tr><td>The Life of Jesus. Translated.</td><td align='right'>$1 75</td></tr>
<tr><td>Lives of the Apostles. <span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 75</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Life of St. Paul. Translated.</td><td align='right'>1 75</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Bible in India&mdash;By Jacolliot.</td><td align='right'>2 00</td></tr>
</table>

<h3>Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth.</h3>

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" width="65%">
<tr><td>The Hidden Hand.</td>                            <td align='right'>$1 75</td></tr>
</table>

<h3>M. M. Pomeroy (Brick).</h3>

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" width="65%">
<tr><td>Sense. A serious book.</td><td align='right'>$1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Gold Dust. <span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Our Saturday Nights.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Nonsense. (A comic book).</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Brick-dust. <span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Home Harmonies.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
</table>

<h3>Miscellaneous Works.</h3>

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" width="100%">
<tr><td>Philosophers and Actresses&mdash;By Houssaye. Steel Portraits,
2 vols.</td><td align='right'>$4&nbsp;00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Men and Women of 18th Century&mdash;By Houssaye. Steel Portraits,
2 vols.</td><td align='right'>4 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Fifty Years among Authors, Books and Publishers&mdash;By J. C.
Derby.</td><td align='right'>2 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Children's Fairy Geography&mdash;With hundreds of beautiful
illustrations.</td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>An Exile's Romance&mdash;By Arthur Louis.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Laus Veneris, and other Poems&mdash;By Algernon Charles Swinburne.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Sawed-off Sketches&mdash;Comic book by "Detroit Free Press Man."
Illustrated.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Hawk-eye Sketches&mdash;Comic book by "Burlington Hawk-eye Man."
<span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Culprit Fay&mdash;Joseph Rodman Drake's Poem. With 100
illustrations.</td><td align='right'>2 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Frankincense&mdash;By Mrs. Melinda Jennie Porter.</td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Love [L'Amour]&mdash;English Translation from Michelet's famous
French work.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Woman [La Femme]&mdash;The Sequel to "L'Amour." <span class="pad-l">Do.</span> <span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Verdant Green&mdash;A racy English college story. With 200 comic
illustrations.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Clear Light from the Spirit World&mdash;By Kate Irving.</td><td align='right'>1 25</td></tr>
<tr><td>For the Sins of his Youth&mdash;By Mrs. Jane Kavanagh.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Mal Moulée&mdash;A splendid Novel, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox.</td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>A Northern Governess at the Sunny South&mdash;By Professor J. H.
Ingraham.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Birds of a Feather Flock Together&mdash;By Edward A. Sothern, the
actor.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Mystery of Bar Harbor&mdash;By Alsop Leffingwell.</td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Longfellow's Home Life&mdash;By Blanche Roosevelt Machetta.
Illustrated.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Every-Day Home Advice&mdash;For Household and Domestic Economy.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Ladies' and Gentlemen's Etiquette Book of the best Fashionable
Society.</td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Love and Marriage&mdash;A book for unmarried people. By Frederick
Saunders.</td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Under the Rose&mdash;A Capital book, by the author of "East Lynne."</td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>So Dear a Dream&mdash;A novel by Miss Grant, author of "The Sun
Maid."</td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Give me thine Heart&mdash;A capital new domestic Love Story by Roe.</td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Meeting her Fate&mdash;A charming novel by the author of "Aurora
Floyd."</td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Faithful to the End&mdash;A delightful domestic novel by Roe.</td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>So True a Love&mdash;A novel by Miss Grant, author of "The Sun
Maid."</td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>True as Gold&mdash;A charming domestic story by Roe.</td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
</table>

<h3>Humorous Works and Novels in Paper Covers.</h3>

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" width="65%">
<tr><td>A Naughty Girl's Diary.</td><td align='right'>$1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>A Good Boy's Diary.</td><td align='right'>50</td></tr>
<tr><td>It's a Way Love Has.</td><td align='right'>25</td></tr>
<tr><td>Abijah Beanpole in New York.</td><td align='right'>50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Never&mdash;Companion to "Don't."</td><td align='right'>25</td></tr>
<tr><td>Always&mdash;By author of "Never."</td><td align='right'>25</td></tr>
<tr><td>Stop&mdash;By author of "Never."</td><td align='right'>25</td></tr>
<tr><td>Smart Sayings of Children&mdash;Paul.</td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Crazy History of the U. S.</td><td align='right'>50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Cats, Cooks, etc.&mdash;By E. T. Ely.</td><td align='right'>50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Miss Varian of New York.</td><td align='right'>50</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Comic Liar&mdash;By Alden.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Store Drumming as a Fine Art.</td><td align='right'>50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Mrs. Spriggins&mdash;Widow Bedott.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Phemie Frost&mdash;Ann S. Stephens.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>That Awful Boy&mdash;N. Y. Weekly.</td><td align='right'>50</td></tr>
<tr><td>That Bridget of Ours. <span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>50</td></tr>
<tr><td>A Society Star&mdash;Chandos Fulton.</td><td align='right'>50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Our Artist in Spain, etc.&mdash;Carleton.</td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Man Abroad.</td><td align='right'>25</td></tr>
</table>

<h3>Miscellaneous Works.</h3>

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" width="65%">
<tr><td>Dawn to Noon&mdash;By Violet Fane.</td><td align='right'>$1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Constance's Fate. <span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Nellie Harland&mdash;Vance.</td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Lion Jack&mdash;By P. T. Barnum.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Jack in the Jungle. <span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Dick Broadhead. <span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>How to Win in Wall Street.</td><td align='right'>50</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Life of Sarah Bernhardt.</td><td align='right'>25</td></tr>
<tr><td>Arctic Travels&mdash;By Dr. Hayes.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Flashes from "Ouida."</td><td align='right'>1 25</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Story of a Day in London.</td><td align='right'>25</td></tr>
<tr><td>Lone Ranch&mdash;By Mayne Reid.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Train Boy&mdash;Horatio Alger.</td><td align='right'>1 25</td></tr>
<tr><td>Dan, The Detective. <span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 25</td></tr>
<tr><td>Death Blow to Spiritualism.</td><td align='right'>50</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Life of Victor Hugo.</td><td align='right'>50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Don Quixote. Illustrated.</td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Arabian Nights. <span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Robinson Crusoe. <span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Swiss Family Robinson&mdash;Illus.</td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Debatable Land&mdash;R. Dale Owen.</td><td align='right'>2 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Threading My Way. <span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Spiritualism&mdash;By D. D. Home.</td><td align='right'>2 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Princess Nourmahal&mdash;Geo. Sand.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Northern Ballads&mdash;E. L. Anderson.</td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Stories about Doctors&mdash;Jeffreson.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Stories about Lawyers. <span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
</table>

<h3>Miscellaneous Novels.</h3>

<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" width="65%">
<tr><td>Doctor Antonio&mdash;By Ruffini.</td><td align='right'>$1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Beatrice Cenci&mdash;From the Italian.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Story of Mary.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Madame&mdash;By Frank Lee Benedict.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>A Late Remorse. <span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Hammer and Anvil. <span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Her Friend Laurence. <span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Mignonnette&mdash;By Sangrée.</td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Jessica&mdash;By Mrs. W. H. White.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Women of To-day. <span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Baroness&mdash;Joaquin Miller.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>One Fair Woman. <span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Burnhams&mdash;Mrs. G. E. Stewart.</td><td align='right'>2 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Eugene Ridgewood&mdash;Paul James.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Braxton's Bar&mdash;R. M. Daggett.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Miss Beck&mdash;By Tilbury Holt.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>A Wayward Life.</td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Winning Winds&mdash;Emerson.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>A College Widow&mdash;C. H. Seymour.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>An Errand Girl&mdash;Johnson.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Ask Her, Man! Ask Her!</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Hidden Power&mdash;T. H. Tibbles.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Two of Us&mdash;Calista Halsey.</td><td align='right'>75</td></tr>
<tr><td>Cupid on Crutches&mdash;A. B. Wood.</td><td align='right'>75</td></tr>
<tr><td>Parson Thorne&mdash;E. M. Buckingham.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Errors&mdash;By Ruth Carter.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Unmistakable Flirtation&mdash;Garner.</td><td align='right'>75</td></tr>
<tr><td>Wild Oats&mdash;Florence Marryat.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Abbess of Jouarre&mdash;Renan.</td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Mysterious Doctor&mdash;Stanley.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Doctor Mortimer&mdash;Fannie Bean.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Two Brides&mdash;Bernard O'Reilly.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Louise and I&mdash;By Chas. Dodge.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>My Queen&mdash;By Sandette.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Fallen among Thieves&mdash;Rayne.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Saint Leger&mdash;Richard B. Kimball.</td><td align='right'>1 75</td></tr>
<tr><td>Was He Successful?&mdash;Kimball.</td><td align='right'>1 75</td></tr>
<tr><td>Undercurrents of Wall St. <span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 75</td></tr>
<tr><td>Romance of Student Life. <span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 75</td></tr>
<tr><td>To-day. <span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 75</td></tr>
<tr><td>Life in San Domingo. <span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 75</td></tr>
<tr><td>Henry Powers, Banker. <span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 75</td></tr>
<tr><td>Led Astray&mdash;By Octave Feuillet.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Lava Fires&mdash;Smith.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>The Darling of an Empire.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Confessions of Two.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Nina's Peril&mdash;By Mrs. Miller.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Marguerite's Journal&mdash;For Girls.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Orpheus C. Kerr&mdash;Four vols. in one.</td><td align='right'>2 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Spell-Bound&mdash;Alexandre Dumas.</td><td align='right'>75</td></tr>
<tr><td>Purple and Fine Linen&mdash;Fawcett.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Pauline's Trial&mdash;L. D. Courtney.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Tancredi&mdash;Dr. E. A. Wood.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Measure for Measure&mdash;Stanley.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Charette&mdash;An American novel.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Fairfax&mdash;By John Esten Cooke.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Hilt to Hilt. <span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Out of the Foam. <span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Hammer and Rapier. <span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Kenneth&mdash;By Sallie A. Brock.</td><td align='right'>1 75</td></tr>
<tr><td>Heart Hungry&mdash;Mrs. Westmoreland.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Clifford Troupe. <span class="pad-l">Do.</span></td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Price of a Life&mdash;R. F. Sturgis.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Marston Hall&mdash;L. Ella Byrd.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Conquered&mdash;By a New Author.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Tales from the Popular Operas.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Edith Murray&mdash;Joanna Mathews.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>San Miniato&mdash;Mrs. C. V. Hamilton.</td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>All for Her&mdash;A Tale of New York.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>L'Assommoir&mdash;Zola's great novel.</td><td align='right'>1 00</td></tr>
<tr><td>Vesta Vane&mdash;By L. King, R.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
<tr><td>Walworth's Novels&mdash;Seven vols.</td><td align='right'>1 50</td></tr>
</table>
</div>

<div class="ad">
<h2 class="ads smcap">Mrs. Mary J. Holmes' Works.</h2>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 113px;">
<img class="decoline" src="images/line-1diamond-sm.png" width="113" height="9" alt="" title="" />
</div>

<div class="sm-booklist">
<p class="fl">TEMPEST AND SUNSHINE.<br />
ENGLISH ORPHANS.<br />
HOMESTEAD ON HILLSIDE.<br />
'LENA RIVERS.<br />
MEADOW BROOK.<br />
DORA DEANE.<br />
COUSIN MAUDE.<br />
MARIAN GREY.<br />
EDITH LYLE.<br />
DAISY THORNTON.<br />
CHATEAU D'OR.<br />
QUEENIE HETHERTON.<br />
BESSIE'S FORTUNE.</p>

<p class="fr">DARKNESS AND DAYLIGHT.<br />
HUGH WORTHINGTON.<br />
CAMERON PRIDE.<br />
ROSE MATHER.<br />
ETHELYN'S MISTAKE.<br />
MILLBANK.<br />
EDNA BROWNING.<br />
WEST LAWN.<br />
MILDRED.<br />
FOREST HOUSE.<br />
MADELINE.<br />
CHRISTMAS STORIES.<br />
GRETCHEN. (<em>New.</em>)</p>
</div>

<h4>OPINIONS OF THE PRESS.</h4>

<p>"Mrs. Holmes' stories are universally read. Her admirers are numberless.
She is in many respects without a rival in the world of fiction. Her characters are
always life-like, and she makes them talk and act like human beings, subject
to the same emotions, swayed by the same passions, and actuated by the same
motives which are common among men and women of every-day existence. Mrs.
Holmes is very happy in portraying domestic life. Old and young peruse her
stories with great delight, for she writes in a style that all can comprehend."&mdash;<cite>New York Weekly.</cite></p>

<p><b>The North American Review</b>, vol. 81, page 557, says of Mrs. Mary J.
Holmes' novel "English Orphans":&mdash;"With this novel of Mrs. Holmes' we
have been charmed, and so have a pretty numerous circle of discriminating readers
to whom we have lent it. The characterization is exquisite, especially so far as
concerns rural and village life, of which there are some pictures that deserve to
be hung up in perpetual memory of types of humanity fast becoming extinct.
The dialogues are generally brief, pointed, and appropriate. The plot seems
simple, so easily and naturally is it developed and consummated. Moreover, the
story thus gracefully constructed and written, inculcates without obtruding, not
only pure Christian morality in general, but, with especial point and power, the
dependence of true success on character, and of true respectability on merit."</p>

<p>"Mrs. Holmes' stories are all of a domestic character, and their interest,
therefore, is not so intense as if they were more highly seasoned with sensationalism,
but it is of a healthy and abiding character. The interest in her tales
begins at once, and is maintained to the close. Her sentiments are so sound, her
sympathies so warm and ready, and her knowledge of manners, character, and
the varied incidents of ordinary life is so thorough, that she would find it difficult
to write any other than an excellent tale if she were to try it."&mdash;<cite>Boston
Banner.</cite></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 75px;">
<img class="decoline" src="images/med-line.png" width="75" height="2" alt="" title="" />
</div>

<p><span class="lg">☛</span> The volumes are all handsomely printed and bound in cloth, sold everywhere,
and sent by mail, <em>postage free</em>, on receipt of price [$1.50 each], by</p>

<div class="figleft" style="width: 50px;">
<img src="images/logo.png" width="50" height="35" alt="" title="" />
</div>
<p class="ralign">
<span class="med r-in4"><b>G. W. DILLINGHAM, Publisher</b>,</span><br />
<span class="sm2 r-in2"><i>Successor to G. W. CARLETON &amp; CO.</i>,</span><br />
<b>33 W. 23d St., NEW YORK.</b></p>
</div>

<div class="ad">
<h2 class="ads">CHARLES DICKENS' WORKS.</h2>

<p class="center med"><b>A NEW
<img class="adlogo" src="images/logo.png" width="50" height="35" alt="" title="" />
EDITION.</b></p>

<p>Among the many editions of the works of this greatest of
English Novelists, there has not been until <em>now</em> one that entirely
satisfies the public demand.&mdash;Without exception, they each have
some strong distinctive objection,&mdash;either the form and dimensions
of the volumes are unhandy&mdash;or, the type is small and
indistinct&mdash;or, the illustrations are unsatisfactory&mdash;or, the binding
is poor&mdash;or, the price is too high.</p>

<p>An entirely new edition is <em>now</em>, however, published by G. W.
Carleton &amp; Co., of New York, which, in every respect, completely
satisfies the popular demand.&mdash;It is known as</p>

<p class="center med">"Carleton's New Illustrated Edition."</p>

<p class="center smcap">Complete in 15 Volumes.</p>

<p>The size and form is most convenient for holding,&mdash;the type is
entirely new, and of a clear and open character that has received
the approval of the reading community in other works.</p>

<p>The illustrations are by the original artists chosen by Charles
Dickens himself&mdash;and the paper, printing, and binding are of an
attractive and substantial character.</p>

<p>This beautiful new edition is complete in 15 volumes&mdash;at the
extremely reasonable price of $1.50 per volume, as follows:&mdash;</p>

<div class="booklist">
<p>
<span class="l-in">1.&mdash;PICKWICK PAPERS AND CATALOGUE.</span><br />
<span class="l-in">2.&mdash;OLIVER TWIST.&mdash;UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER.</span><br />
<span class="l-in">3.&mdash;DAVID COPPERFIELD.</span><br />
<span class="l-in">4.&mdash;GREAT EXPECTATIONS&mdash;ITALY AND AMERICA.</span><br />
<span class="l-in">5.&mdash;DOMBEY AND SON.</span><br />
<span class="l-in">6.&mdash;BARNABY RUDGE AND EDWIN DROOD.</span><br />
<span class="l-in">7.&mdash;NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.</span><br />
<span class="l-in">8.&mdash;CURIOSITY SHOP AND MISCELLANEOUS.</span><br />
<span class="l-in">9.&mdash;BLEAK HOUSE.</span><br />
  10.&mdash;LITTLE DORRIT.<br />
  11.&mdash;MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.<br />
  12.&mdash;OUR MUTUAL FRIEND.<br />
  13.&mdash;CHRISTMAS BOOKS.&mdash;TALE OF TWO CITIES.<br />
  14.&mdash;SKETCHES BY BOZ AND HARD TIMES.<br />
  15.&mdash;CHILD'S ENGLAND AND MISCELLANEOUS.
</p>
</div>

<p>The first volume&mdash;Pickwick Papers&mdash;contains an alphabetical
catalogue of all of Charles Dickens' writings, with their exact
positions in the volumes.</p>

<p>This edition is sold by Booksellers, everywhere&mdash;and single
specimen copies will be forwarded by mail, <em>postage free</em>, on receipt
of price $1.50 by</p>

<div class="figleft" style="width: 50px;">
<img src="images/logo.png" width="50" height="35" alt="" title="" />
</div>
<p class="ralign">
<span class="med r-in4"><b>G. W. DILLINGHAM, Publisher</b>,</span><br />
<span class="sm2 r-in2"><i>Successor to G. W. CARLETON &amp; CO.</i>,</span><br />
<b>33 W. 23d St., NEW YORK.</b></p>
</div>

<div class="tn">
<p class="center med">Transcriber's Note:</p>

<p>Minor punctuation errors (e.g. missing or misprinted periods, commas,
and quotation marks) and poorly printed letters have been corrected
without note. Other than the corrections listed below, all spelling
variants have been left as in the original.</p>

<p>The following changes were made to the text:</p>

<ul>
<li>Front Matter: EXPRESSMEN to EXPRESSMAN (6.--EXPRESSMAN AND DETECTIVES.)</li>

<li>p. <a href="#Page_21">21</a>: smoothy to smoothly (smoothly-shaven face)</li>

<li>pp. <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>, and <a href="#Page_45">45</a>: Lily to Lilly</li>

<li>p. <a href="#Page_38">38</a>: unmanagable to unmanageable (she became almost unmanageable)</li>

<li>p. <a href="#Page_62">62</a>: wildet to wildest (the wildest affection)</li>

<li>p. <a href="#Page_68">68</a>: wherupon to whereupon (whereupon she had raised)</li>

<li>p. <a href="#Page_78">78</a>: Bang's to Bangs's (put in Mr. Bangs's hands)</li>

<li>p. <a href="#Page_94">94</a>: povety-stricken to poverty-stricken (and the poverty-stricken
hovel)</li>

<li>p. <a href="#Page_106">106</a>: Waverly to Waverley (After taking dinner at the Waverley,)</li>

<li>p. <a href="#Page_114">114</a>: deshabille to déshabillé (<i>en déshabillé</i>)</li>

<li>p. <a href="#Page_127">127</a>: interspering to interspersing (interspersing it with a few)</li>

<li>p. <a href="#Page_153">153</a>: role to <i>rôle</i> (she had assumed the <i>rôle</i>)</li>

<li>p. <a href="#Page_158">158</a>: removed duplicated "to" (better wife 'n she was to me)</li>

<li>p. <a href="#Page_168">168</a>: <i>role</i> to <i>rôle</i> (continue the <i>rôle</i>)</li>

<li>p. <a href="#Page_176">176</a>: removed extra "a" ("a this morning's paper" to "this morning's
paper")</li>

<li>p. <a href="#Page_278">278</a>: havn't to haven't (you haven't found her)</li>

<li>p. <a href="#Page_311">311</a>: Evalina to Evalena (upon which Miss Evalena Gray)</li>

<li>p. <a href="#Page_325">325</a>: Evelena to Evalena (how Miss Evalena Gray performed)</li>

<li>pp. <a href="#Page_334">334-335</a> (Illustration caption), <a href="#Page_338">338</a> and <a href="#Page_341">341</a>: Levereaux to Leveraux</li>

<li>Advertisements (end of book): Agusta to Augusta (Augusta J. Evans'
Novels.), Expressmen to Expressman (Expressman and Detectives), "and
Detectives" to "as a Detective" (Claude Melnotte as a Detective),
Marryatt to Marryat (Wild Oats--Florence Marryat.)</li>
</ul>
</div>








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