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