III
THE NAMELESS MAN
Mr. Barnes was sitting in his private room, with nothing of specialimportance to occupy his thoughts, when his office boy announced avisitor.
"What name?" asked Mr. Barnes.
"None," was the reply.
"You mean," said the detective, "that the man did not give you his name.He must have one, of course. Show him in."
A minute later the stranger entered, and, bowing courteously, began theconversation at once.
"Mr. Barnes, the famous detective, I believe?" said he.
"My name is Barnes," replied the detective. "May I have the pleasure ofknowing yours?"
"I sincerely hope so," continued the stranger. "The fact is, I suppose Ihave forgotten it."
"Forgotten your name?" Mr. Barnes scented an interesting case, andbecame doubly attentive.
"Yes," said the visitor; "that is precisely my singular predicament. Iseem to have lost my identity. That is the object of my call. I wish youto discover who I am. As I am evidently a full-grown man, I cancertainly claim that I have a past history, but to me that past isentirely blank. I awoke this morning in this condition, yet apparentlyin possession of all my faculties, so much so, that I at once saw theadvisability of consulting a first-class detective, and, upon inquiry, Iwas directed to you."
"Your case is most interesting--from my point of view, I mean. To you,of course, it must seem unfortunate. Yet it is not unparalleled. Therehave been many such cases recorded, and, for your temporary relief, Imay say that, sooner or later, complete restoration of memory usuallyoccurs. But now, let us try to unravel your mystery as soon as possible,that you may suffer as little inconvenience as there need be. I wouldlike to ask you a few questions."
"As many as you like, and I will do my best to answer."
"Do you think that you are a New Yorker?"
"I have not the least idea whether I am or not."
"You say you were advised to consult me. By whom?"
"The clerk at the Waldorf Hotel, where I slept last night."
"Then, of course, he gave you my address. Did you find it necessary toask him how to find my offices?"
"Well, no, I did not. That seems strange, does it not? I certainly hadno difficulty in coming here. I suppose that must be a significant fact,Mr. Barnes?"
"It tends to show that you have been familiar with New York, but we muststill find out whether you live here or not. How did you register at thehotel?"
"M. J. G. Remington, City."
"You are quite sure that Remington is not your name?"
"Quite sure. After breakfast this morning I was passing through thelobby when the clerk called me twice by that name. Finally, one of thehall-boys touched me on the shoulder and explained that I was wanted atthe desk. I was very much confused to find myself called 'Mr.Remington,' a name which certainly is not my own. Before I fullyrealized my position, I said to the clerk, 'Why do you call meRemington?' and he replied, 'Because you registered under that name.' Itried to pass it off, but I am sure that the clerk looks upon me as asuspicious character."
"What baggage have you with you at the hotel?"
"None. Not even a satchel."
"May there not be something in your pockets that would help us; letters,for example?"
"I am sorry to say that I have made a search in that direction, butfound nothing. Luckily I did have a pocketbook, though."
"Much money in it?"
"In the neighborhood of five hundred dollars."
Mr. Barnes turned to his table and made a few notes on a pad of paper.While so engaged his visitor took out a fine gold watch, and, after aglance at the face, was about to return it to his pocket, when Mr.Barnes wheeled around in his chair, and said:
"That is a handsome watch you have there. Of a curious pattern, too. Iam rather interested in old watches."
The stranger seemed confused for an instant, and quickly put up hiswatch, saying:
"There is nothing remarkable about it. Merely an old family relic. Ivalue it more for that than anything else. But about my case, Mr.Barnes; how long do you think it will take to restore my identity to me?It is rather awkward to go about under a false name."
"I should think so," said the detective. "I will do my best for you, butyou have given me absolutely no clue to work upon, so that it isimpossible to say what my success will be. Still I think forty-eighthours should suffice. At least in that time I ought to make somediscoveries for you. Suppose you call again on the day after to-morrow,at noon precisely. Will that suit you?"
"Very well, indeed. If you can tell me who I am at that time I shall bemore than convinced that you are a great detective, as I have beentold."
He arose and prepared to go, and upon the instant Mr. Barnes touched abutton under his table with his foot, which caused a bell to ring in adistant part of the building, no sound of which penetrated the privateoffice. Thus any one could visit Mr. Barnes in his den, and might leave,unsuspicious of the fact that a spy would be awaiting him out in thestreet who would shadow him persistently day and night until recalled byhis chief. After giving the signal, Mr. Barnes held his strange visitorin conversation a few moments longer to allow his spy opportunity to getto his post.
"How will you pass the time away, Mr. Remington?" said he. "We may aswell call you by that name, until I find your true one."
"Yes, I suppose so. As to what I shall do during the next forty-eighthours, why, I think I may as well devote myself to seeing the sights. Itis a remarkably pleasant day for a stroll, and I think I will visit yourbeautiful Central Park."
"A capital idea. By all means, I would advise occupation of that kind.It would be best not to do any business until your memory is restored toyou."
"Business? Why, of course, I can do no business."
"No. If you were to order any goods, for example, under the name ofRemington, later on when you resume your proper identity you might bearrested as an impostor."
"By George! I had not thought of that. My position is more serious thanI had realized. I thank you for the warning. Sight-seeing will assuredlybe my safest plan for the next two days."
"I think so. Call at the time agreed upon, and hope for the best. If Ishould need you before then, I will send to your hotel."
Then, saying "Good morning," Mr. Barnes turned to his desk again, and,as the stranger looked at him before stepping out of the room, thedetective seemed engrossed with some papers before him. Yet scarcely hadthe door closed upon the retreating form of his recent visitor, when Mr.Barnes looked up, with an air of expectancy. A moment later a very tinybell in a drawer of his desk rang, indicating that the man had left thebuilding, the signal having been sent to him by one of his employees,whose business it was to watch all departures and notify his chief. Afew moments later Mr. Barnes himself emerged, clad in an entirelydifferent suit of clothing, and with such alteration in the color of hishair that more than a casual glance would have been required torecognize him.
When he reached the street the stranger was nowhere in sight, but Mr.Barnes went to a doorway opposite, and there he found, written in bluepencil, the word "up," whereupon he walked rapidly uptown as far as thenext corner, where once more he examined a door-post, upon which hefound the word "right," which indicated the way the men ahead of him hadturned. Beyond this he could expect no signals, for the spy shadowingthe stranger did not know positively that his chief would take part inthe game. The two signals which he had written on the doors were merelya part of a routine, and intended to aid Mr. Barnes should he follow;but if he did so, he would be expected to be in sight of the spy by thetime the second signal was reached. And so it proved in this instance,for as Mr. Barnes turned the corner to the right, he easily discernedhis man about two blocks ahead, and presently was near enough to see"Remington" also.
The pursuit continued until Mr. Barnes was surprised to see him enterthe Park, thus carrying out his intention as stated in his interviewwit
h the detective. Entering at the Fifth Avenue gate he made his waytowards the menagerie, and here a curious incident occurred. Thestranger had mingled with the crowd in the monkey-house, and wasenjoying the antics of the mischievous little animals, when Mr. Barnes,getting close behind him, deftly removed a pocket-handkerchief from thetail of his coat and swiftly transferred it to his own.
On the day following, shortly before noon, Mr. Barnes walked quicklyinto the reading-room of the Fifth Avenue Hotel. In one corner there isa handsome mahogany cabinet, containing three compartments, each ofwhich is entered through double doors, having glass panels in the upperhalf. About these panels are draped yellow silk curtains, and in thecentre of each appears a white porcelain numeral. These compartments areused as public telephone stations, the applicant being shut in, so as tobe free from the noise of the outer room.
Mr. Barnes spoke to the girl in charge, and then passed into thecompartment numbered "2." Less than five minutes later Mr. Leroy Mitchelcame into the reading-room. His keen eyes peered about him, scanningthe countenances of those busy with the papers or writing, and then hegave the telephone girl a number, and went into the compartment numbered"1." About ten minutes elapsed before Mr. Mitchel came out again, and,having paid the toll, he left the hotel. When Mr. Barnes emerged, therewas an expression of extreme satisfaction upon his face. Withoutlingering, he also went out. But instead of following Mr. Mitchelthrough the main lobby to Broadway, he crossed the reading-room andreached Twenty-third Street through the side door. Thence he proceededto the station of the elevated railroad, and went uptown. Twenty minuteslater he was ringing the bell of Mr. Mitchel's residence. The "buttons"who answered his summons informed him that his master was not at home.
"He usually comes in to luncheon, however, does he not?" asked thedetective.
"Yes, sir," responded the boy.
"Is Mrs. Mitchel at home?"
"No, sir."
"Miss Rose?"
"Yes, sir."
"Ah; then I'll wait. Take my card to her."
Mr. Barnes passed into the luxurious drawing-room, and was soon joinedby Rose, Mr. Mitchel's adopted daughter.
"I am sorry papa is not at home, Mr. Barnes," said the little lady, "buthe will surely be in to luncheon, if you will wait."
"Yes, thank you, I think I will. It is quite a trip up, and, being here,I may as well wait a while and see your father, though the matter is notof any great importance."
"Some interesting case, Mr. Barnes? If so, do tell me about it. You knowI am almost as interested in your cases as papa is."
"Yes, I know you are, and my vanity is flattered. But I am sorry to saythat I have nothing on hand at present worth relating. My errand is avery simple one. Your father was saying, a few days ago, that he wasthinking of buying a bicycle, and yesterday, by accident, I came acrossa machine of an entirely new make, which seems to me superior toanything yet produced. I thought he might be interested to see it,before deciding what kind to buy."
"I am afraid you are too late, Mr. Barnes. Papa has bought a bicyclealready."
"Indeed! What style did he choose?"
"I really do not know, but it is down in the lower hall, if you care tolook at it."
"It is hardly worth while, Miss Rose. After all, I have no interest inthe new model, and if your father has found something that he likes, Iwon't even mention the other to him. It might only make him regret hisbargain. Still, on second thoughts, I will go down with you, if you willtake me into the dining-room and show me the head of that moose whichyour father has been bragging about killing. I believe it has come backfrom the taxidermist's?"
"Oh, yes. He is just a monster. Come on."
They went down to the dining-room, and Mr. Barnes expressed greatadmiration for the moose's head, and praised Mr. Mitchel's skill as amarksman. But he had taken a moment to scrutinize the bicycle whichstood in the hallway, while Rose was opening the blinds in thedining-room. Then they returned to the drawing-room, and after a littlemore conversation Mr. Barnes departed, saying that he could not wait anylonger, but he charged Rose to tell her father that he particularlydesired him to call at noon on the following day.
Promptly at the time appointed, "Remington" walked into the office ofMr. Barnes, and was announced. The detective was in his private room.Mr. Leroy Mitchel had been admitted but a few moments before.
"Ask Mr. Remington in," said Mr. Barnes to his boy, and when thatgentleman entered, before he could show surprise at finding a thirdparty present, the detective said:
"Mr. Mitchel, this is the gentleman whom I wish you to meet. Permit meto introduce to you Mr. Mortimer J. Goldie, better known to the sportingfraternity as G. J. Mortimer, the champion short-distance bicycle rider,who recently rode a mile in the phenomenal time of 1.36, on a three-laptrack."
As Mr. Barnes spoke, he gazed from one to the other of his companions,with a half-quizzical and wholly pleased expression on his face. Mr.Mitchel appeared much interested, but the newcomer was evidentlygreatly astonished. He looked blankly at Mr. Barnes a moment, thendropped into a chair with the query:
"How in the name of conscience did you find that out?"
"That much was not very difficult," replied the detective. "I can tellyou much more; indeed, I can supply your whole past history, providedyour memory has been sufficiently restored for you to recognize my factsas true."
Mr. Barnes looked at Mr. Mitchel, and winked one eye in a mostsuggestive manner, at which that gentleman burst out into heartylaughter, finally saying:
"We may as well admit that we are beaten, Goldie. Mr. Barnes has beentoo much for us."
"But I want to know how he has done it," persisted Mr. Goldie.
"I have no doubt that Mr. Barnes will gratify you. Indeed, I am ascurious as you are to know by what means he has arrived at his quicksolution of the problem which we set for him."
"I will enlighten you as to detective methods with pleasure," said Mr.Barnes. "Let me begin with the visit made to me by this gentleman twodays ago. At the very outset his statement aroused my suspicion, thoughI did my best not to let him think so. He announced to me that he hadlost his identity, and I promptly told him that his case was notuncommon. I said that in order that he might feel sure that I did notdoubt his tale. But truly, his case, if he was telling the truth, wasabsolutely unique. Men have lost recollection of their past, and evenhave forgotten their names. But I have never before heard of a man whohad forgotten his name, _and at the same time knew that he had doneso_."
"A capital point, Mr. Barnes," said Mr. Mitchel. "You were certainlyshrewd to suspect fraud so early."
"Well, I cannot say that I suspected fraud so soon, but the story was soimprobable that I could not believe it immediately. I therefore was whatI might call 'analytically attentive' during the rest of the interview.The next point worth noting which came out was that, although he hadforgotten himself, he had not forgotten New York, for he admitted havingcome to me without special guidance."
"I remember that," interrupted Mr. Goldie, "and I think I even said toyou at the time that it was significant."
"And I told you that it at least showed that you had been familiar withNew York. This was better proven when you said that you would spend theday at Central Park, and when, after leaving here, you had no difficultyin finding your way thither."
"Do you mean to say that you had me followed? I made sure that no onewas after me."
"Well, yes, you were followed," said Mr. Barnes, with a smile. "I had aspy after you, and I followed you as far as the Park myself. But let mecome to the other points in your interview and my deductions. You toldme that you had registered as 'M. J. G. Remington.' This helped meconsiderably, as we shall see presently. A few minutes later you tookout your watch, and in that little mirror over my desk, which I useoccasionally when I turn my back upon a visitor, I noted that there wasan inscription on the outside of the case. I turned and asked yousomething about the watch, when you hastily returned it to your pocket,with the remark that it was 'an ol
d family relic.' Now can you explainhow you could have known that, supposing that you had forgotten who youwere?"
"Neatly caught, Goldie," laughed Mr. Mitchel. "You certainly made a messof it there."
"It was an asinine slip," said Mr. Goldie, laughing also.
"Now, then," continued Mr. Barnes, "you readily see that I had goodreason for believing that you had not forgotten your name. On thecontrary, I was positive that your name was a part of the inscription onthe watch. What, then, could be your purpose in pretending otherwise? Idid not discover that for some time. However, I decided to go ahead, andfind you out if I could. Next I noted two things. Your coat opened once,so that I saw, pinned to your vest, a bicycle badge, which I recognizedas the emblem of the League of American Wheelmen."
"Oh! Oh!" cried Mr. Mitchel. "Shame on you, Goldie, for a blunderer."
"I had entirely forgotten the badge," said Mr. Goldie.
"I also observed," the detective went on, "little indentations on thesole of your shoe, as you had your legs crossed, which satisfied me thatyou were a rider even before I observed the badge. Now then, we come tothe name, and the significance thereof. Had you really lost your memory,the choosing of a name when you registered at a hotel would have been ahaphazard matter of no importance to me. But as soon as I decided thatyou were imposing upon me, I knew that your choice of a name had been adeliberate act of the mind; one from which deductions could be drawn."
"Ah; now we come to the interesting part," said Mr. Mitchel. "I love tofollow a detective when he uses his brains."
"The name as registered, and I examined the registry to make sure, wasodd. Three initials are unusual. A man without memory, and therefore notquite sound mentally, would hardly have chosen so many. Then why had itbeen done in this instance? What more natural than that these initialsrepresented the true name? In assuming an alias, it is the most commonmethod to transpose the real name in some way. At least it was a workinghypothesis. Then the last name might be very significant. 'Remington.'The Remingtons make guns, sewing-machines, typewriters, and bicycles.Now, this man was a bicycle rider, I was sure. If he chose his owninitials as a part of the alias, it was possible that he selected'Remington' because it was familiar to him. I even imagined that hemight be an agent for Remington bicycles, and I had arrived at thatpoint during our interview, when I advised him not to buy anything untilhis identity was restored. But I was sure of my quarry when I stole ahandkerchief from him at the park, and found the initials 'M. J. G.'upon the same."
"Marked linen on your person!" exclaimed Mr. Mitchel. "Worse and worse!We'll never make a successful criminal of you, Goldie."
"Perhaps not. I shan't cry over it."
"I felt sure of my success by this time," continued Mr. Barnes, "yet atthe very next step I was balked. I looked over a list of L. A. W.members and could not find a name to fit my initials, which shows, asyou will see presently, that, as I may say, 'too many clues spoil thebroth.' Without the handkerchief I would have done better. Next Isecured a catalogue of the Remingtons, which gave a list of theirauthorized agents, and again I failed. Returning to my office I receivedinformation from my spy, sent in by messenger, which promised to open away for me. He had followed you about, Mr. Goldie, and I must say youplayed your part very well, so far as avoiding acquaintances isconcerned. But at last you went to a public telephone, and called upsome one. My man saw the importance of discovering to whom you hadspoken, and bribed the telephone attendant to give him the information.All that he learned, however, was that you had spoken to the publicstation at the Fifth Avenue Hotel. My spy thought that this wasinconsequent, but it proved to me at once that there was collusion, andthat your man must have been at the other station by previousappointment. As that was at noon, a few minutes before the same hour onthe following day, that is to say, yesterday, I went to the Fifth AvenueHotel telephone and secreted myself in the middle compartment, hoping tohear what your partner might say to you. I failed in this, as the boxesare too well made to permit sound to pass from one to the other; butimagine my gratification to see Mr. Mitchel himself go into the box."
"And why?" asked Mr. Mitchel.
"Why, as soon as I saw you, I comprehended the whole scheme. It was youwho had concocted the little diversion to test my ability. Thus, atlast, I understood the reason for the pretended loss of identity. Withthe knowledge that you were in it, I was more than ever determined toget at the facts. Knowing that you were out, I hastened to your house,hoping for a chat with little Miss Rose, as the most likely member ofyour family to get information from."
"Oh, fie! Mr. Barnes," said Mr. Mitchel; "to play upon the innocence ofchildhood! I am ashamed of you!"
"'All's fair,' etc. Well, I succeeded. I found Mr. Goldie's bicycle inyour hallway, and, as I suspected, it was a Remington. I took the numberand hurried down to the agency, where I readily discovered that wheelNo. 5086 is ridden by G. J. Mortimer, one of their regular racing team.I also learned that Mortimer's private name is Mortimer J. Goldie. I wasmuch pleased at this, because it showed how good my reasoning had beenabout the alias, for you observe that the racing name is merely atransposition of the family name. The watch, of course, is a prize, andthe inscription would have proved that you were imposing upon me, Mr.Goldie, had you permitted me to see it."
"Of course; that was why I put it back in my pocket."
"I said just now," said Mr. Barnes, "that without the stolenhandkerchief I would have done better. Having it, when I looked over theL. A. W. list I went through the 'G's' only. Without it, I should havelooked through the 'G's,' 'J's,' and 'M's,' not knowing how the lettersmay have been transposed. In that case I should have found 'G. J.Mortimer,' and the initials would have proved that I was on the righttrack."
"You have done well, Mr. Barnes," said Mr. Mitchel. "I asked Goldie toplay the part of a nameless man for a few days, to have some fun withyou. But you have had fun with us, it seems. Though, I am conceitedenough to say, that had it been possible for me to play the principalpart, you would not have pierced my identity so soon."
"Oh, I don't know," said Mr. Barnes. "We are both of us a littleegotistical, I fear."
"Undoubtedly. Still, if I ever set another trap for you, I will assignmyself the chief _role_."
"Nothing would please me better," said Mr. Barnes. "But, gentlemen, asyou have lost in this little game, it seems to me that some one owes mea dinner, at least."
"I'll stand the expense with pleasure," said Mr. Mitchel.
"Not at all," interrupted Mr. Goldie. "It was through my blundering thatwe lost, and I'll pay the piper."
"Settle it between you," cried Mr. Barnes. "But let us walk on. I amgetting hungry."
Whereupon they adjourned to Delmonico's.
Final Proof; Or, The Value of Evidence Page 4