The Poisoned Pen

by Arthur B. Reeve

  VII

  THE WHITE SLAVE

  Kennedy and I had just tossed a coin to decide whether it should be acomic opera or a good walk in the mellow spring night air and the operahad won, but we had scarcely begun to argue the vital point as to whereto go, when the door buzzer sounded--a sure sign that some box-officehad lost four dollars.

  It was a much agitated middle-aged couple who entered as Craig threwopen the door. Of our two visitors, the woman attracted my attentionfirst, for on her pale face the lines of sorrow were almost visiblydeepening. Her nervous manner interested me greatly, though I tookpains to conceal the fact that I noticed it. It was quickly accountedfor, however, by the card which the man presented, bearing the name"Mr. George Gilbert" and a short scribble from First Deputy O'Connor:

  Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert desire to consult you with regard to the mysterious disappearance of their daughter, Georgette. I am sure I need say nothing further to interest you than that the M. P. Squad is completely baffled.

  O'CONNOR.

  "H-m," remarked Kennedy; "not strange for the Missing Persons Squad tobe baffled--at least, at this case."

  "Then you know of our daughter's strange--er--departure?" asked Mr.Gilbert, eagerly scanning Kennedy's face and using a euphemism thatwould fall less harshly on his wife's ears than the truth.

  "Indeed, yes," nodded Craig with marked sympathy: "that is, I have readmost of what the papers have said. Let me introduce my friend, Mr.Jameson. You recall we were discussing the Georgette Gilbert case thismorning, Walter?"

  I did, and perhaps before I proceed further with the story I shouldquote at least the important parts of the article in the morning Starwhich had occasioned the discussion. The article had been headed, "WhenPersonalities Are Lost," and with the Gilbert case as a text manyinstances had been cited which had later been solved by the return ofthe memory of the sufferer. In part the article had said:

  Mysterious disappearances, such as that of Georgette Gilbert, havealarmed the public and baffled the police before this, disappearancesthat in their suddenness, apparent lack of purpose, andinexplicability, have had much in common with the case of Miss Gilbert.

  Leaving out of account the class of disappearances such as embezzlers,blackmailers, and other criminals, there is still a large number ofrecorded cases where the subjects have dropped out of sight withoutapparent cause or reason and have left behind them untarnishedreputations. Of these a small percentage are found to have met withviolence; others have been victims of a suicidal mania; and sooner orlater a clue has come to light, for the dead are often easier to findthan the living. Of the remaining small proportion there are on recorda number of carefully authenticated cases where the subjects have beenthe victims of a sudden and complete loss of memory.

  This dislocation of memory is a variety of aphasia known as amnesia,and when the memory is recurrently lost and restored it is an"alternating personality." The psychical researchers and psychologistshave reported many cases of alternating personality. Studious effortsare being made to understand and to explain the strange type of mentalphenomena exhibited in these cases, but no one has as yet given afinal, clear, and comprehensive explanation of them. Such cases are byno means always connected with disappearances, but the variety known asthe ambulatory type, where the patient suddenly loses all knowledge ofhis own identity and of his past and takes himself off, leaving notrace or clue, is the variety which the present case calls to popularattention.

  Then followed a list of a dozen or so interesting cases of persons whohad vanished completely and had, some several days and some even yearslater, suddenly "awakened" to their first personality, returned, andtaken up the thread of that personality where it had been broken.

  To Kennedy's inquiry I was about to reply that I recalled theconversation distinctly, when Mr. Gilbert shot an inquiring glance frombeneath his bushy eyebrows, quickly shifting from my face to Kennedy's,and asked, "And what was your conclusion--what do you think of thecase? Is it aphasia or amnesia, or whatever the doctors call it, and doyou think she is wandering about somewhere unable to recover her realpersonality?"

  "I should like to have all the facts at first hand before venturing anopinion," Craig replied with precisely that shade of hesitancy thatmight reassure the anxious father and mother, without raising a falsehope.

  Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert exchanged glances, the purport of which was thatshe desired him to tell the story.

  "It was day before yesterday," began Mr. Gilbert, gently touching hiswife's trembling hand that sought his arm as he began rehearsing thetragedy that had cast its shadow across their lives, "Thursday, thatGeorgette--er--since we have heard of Georgette." His voice faltered abit, but he proceeded: "As you know, she was last seen walking on FifthAvenue. The police have traced her since she left home that morning. Itis known that she went first to the public library, then that shestopped at a department store on the avenue, where she made a smallpurchase which she had charged to our family account, and finally thatshe went to a large book-store. Then--that is the last."

  Mrs. Gilbert sighed, and buried her face in a lace handkerchief as hershoulders shook convulsively.

  "Yes, I have read that," repeated Kennedy gently, though with manifesteagerness to get down to facts that might prove more illuminating. "Ithink I need hardly impress upon you the advantage of completefrankness, the fact that anything you may tell me is of a much moreconfidential nature than if it were told to the police. Er--r, had MissGilbert any--love affair, any trouble of such a nature that it mighthave preyed on her mind?"

  Kennedy's tactful manner seemed to reassure both the father and themother, who exchanged another glance.

  "Although we have said no to the reporters," Mrs. Gilbert repliedbravely in answer to the nod of approval from her husband, and much asif she herself were making a confession for them both, "I fear thatGeorgette had had a love affair. No doubt you have heard hints ofDudley Lawton's name in connection with the case? I can't imagine howthey could have leaked out, for I should have said that that old affairhad long since been forgotten even by the society gossips. The fact isthat shortly after Georgette 'came out,' Dudley Lawton, who is quite onthe road to becoming one of the rather notorious members of the youngerset, began to pay her marked attentions. He is a fascinating, romanticsort of fellow, one that, I imagine, possesses much attraction for agirl who has been brought up as simply as Georgette was, and who hasabsorbed a surreptitious diet of modern literature such as we now knowGeorgette did. I suppose you have seen portraits of Georgette in thenewspapers and know what a dreamy and artistic nature her faceindicates?"

  Kennedy nodded. It is, of course, one of the cardinal tenets ofjournalism that all women are beautiful, but even the coarse screen ofthe ordinary newspaper half-tone had not been able to conceal therather exceptional beauty of Miss Georgette Gilbert. If it had, all theshortcomings of the newspaper photographic art would have been quicklyglossed over by the almost ardent descriptions by those ladies of thepress who come along about the second day after an event of this kindwith signed articles analysing the character and motives, the life andgowns of the latest actors in the front-page stories.

  "Naturally both my husband and myself opposed his attentions from thefirst. It was a hard struggle, for Georgette, of course, assumed themuch-injured air of some of the heroines of her favourite novels. ButI, at least, believed that we had won and that Georgette finally wasbrought to respect and, I hoped, understand our wishes in the matter. Ibelieve so yet. Mr. Gilbert in a roundabout way came to anunderstanding with old Mr. Dudley Lawton, who possesses a greatinfluence over his son, and--well, Dudley Lawton seemed to have passedout of Georgette's life. I believed so then, at least, and I see noreason for not believing so yet. I feel that you ought to know this,but really I don't think it is right to say that Georgette had a loveaffair. I should rather say that she had HAD a love affair, but that ithad been forgotten, perhaps a year ago."

  Mrs. Gilbert paused again, and it was evident t
hat though she wasconcealing nothing she was measuring her words carefully in order notto give a false impression.

  "What does Dudley Lawton say about the newspapers bringing his nameinto the case?" asked Kennedy, addressing Mr. Gilbert.

  "Nothing," replied he. "He denies that he has even spoken to her fornearly a year. Apparently he has no interest in the case. And yet Icannot quite believe that Lawton is as uninterested as he seems. I knowthat he has often spoken about her to members of the Cosmos Club wherehe lives, and that he reads practically everything that the newspapersprint about the case."

  "But you have no reason to think that there has ever been any secretcommunication between them? Miss Georgette left no letters or anythingthat would indicate that her former infatuation survived?"

  "None whatever," repeated Mr. Gilbert emphatically. "We have gone overher personal effects very carefully, and I can't say they furnish aclue. In fact, there were very few letters. She rarely kept a letter.Whether it was merely from habit or for some purpose, I can't say."

  "Besides her liking for Dudley Lawton and her rather romantic nature,there are no other things in her life that would cause a desire forfreedom?" asked Kennedy, much as a doctor might test the nerves of apatient. "She had no hobbies?"

  "Beyond the reading of some books which her mother and I did notaltogether approve of, I should say no--no hobbies."

  "So far, I suppose, it is true that neither you nor the police havereceived even a hint as to where she went after leaving the book-store?"

  "Not a hint. She dropped out as completely as if the earth hadswallowed her."

  "Mrs. Gilbert," said Kennedy, as our visitors rose to go, "you may restassured that if it is humanly possible to find your daughter I shallleave no stone unturned until I have probed to the bottom of thismystery. I have seldom had a case that hung on more slender threads,yet if I can weave other threads to support it I feel that we shallsoon find that the mystery is not so baffling as the Missing PersonsSquad has found it so far."

  Scarcely had the Gilberts left when Kennedy put on his hat, remarking:"We'll at least get our walk, if not the show. Let's stroll around tothe Cosmos Club. Perhaps we may catch Lawton in."

  Luckily we chanced to find him there in the reading-room. Lawton was,as Mrs. Gilbert had said, a type that is common enough in New York andis very fascinating to many girls. In fact, he was one of those fellowswhose sins are readily forgiven because they are always interesting.Not a few men secretly admire though publicly execrate the Lawton type.

  I say we chanced to find him in. That was about all we found. Ourinterview was most unsatisfactory. For my part, I could not determinewhether he was merely anxious to avoid any notoriety in connection withthe case or whether he was concealing something that might compromisehimself.

  "Really, gentlemen," he drawled, puffing languidly on a cigarette andturning slowly toward the window to watch the passing throng under thelights of the avenue, "really I don't see how I can be of anyassistance. You see, except for a mere passing acquaintance MissGilbert and I had drifted entirely apart--entirely apart--owing tocircumstances over which I, at least, had no control."

  "I thought perhaps you might have heard from her or about her, throughsome mutual friend," remarked Kennedy, carefully concealing under hisnonchalance what I knew was working in his mind--a belief that, afterall, the old attachment had not been so dead as the Gilberts hadfancied.

  "No, not a breath, either before this sad occurrence or, of course,after. Believe me, if I could add one fact that would simplify thesearch for Georgette--ah, Miss Gilbert--ah--I would do so in a moment,"replied Lawton quickly, as if desirous of getting rid of us as soon aspossible. Then perhaps as if regretting the brusqueness with which hehad tried to end the interview, he added, "Don't misunderstand me. Themoment you have discovered anything that points to her whereabouts, letme know immediately. You can count on me--provided you don't get meinto the papers. Good-night, gentlemen. I wish you the best of success."

  "Do you think he could have kept up the acquaintance secretly?" I askedCraig as we walked up the avenue after this baffling interview. "Couldhe have cast her off when he found that in spite of her parents'protests she was still in his power?"

  "It's impossible to say what a man of Dudley Lawton's type could do,"mused Kennedy, "for the simple reason that he himself doesn't knowuntil he has to do it. Until we have more facts, anything is bothpossible and probable."

  There was nothing more that could be done that night, though after ourwalk we sat up for an hour or two discussing probabilities. It did nottake me long to reach the end of my imagination and give up the case,but Kennedy continued to revolve the matter in his mind, looking at itfrom every angle and calling upon all the vast store of informationthat he had treasured up in that marvellous brain of his, ready to becalled on almost as if his mind were card-indexed.

  "Murders, suicides, robberies, and burglaries are, after all, prettyeasily explained," he remarked, after a long period of silence on mypart, "but the sudden disappearance of people out of the crowded cityinto nowhere is something that is much harder to explain. And it isn'tso difficult to disappear as some people imagine, either. You rememberthe case of the celebrated Arctic explorer whose picture had beenpublished scores of times in every illustrated paper. He had no troublein disappearing and then reappearing later, when he got ready.

  "Yet experience has taught me that there is always a reason fordisappearances. It is our next duty to discover that reason. Still, itwon't do to say that disappearances are not mysterious. Disappearancesexcept for money troubles are all mysterious. The first thing in such acase is to discover whether the person has any hobbies or habits orfads. That is what I tried to find out from the Gilberts. I can't tellyet whether I succeeded."

  Kennedy took a pencil and hastily jotted down something on a piece ofpaper which he tossed over to me. It read:

  1. Love, family trouble.

  2. A romantic disposition.

  3. Temporary insanity, self-destruction.

  4. Criminal assault.

  5. Aphasia.

  6. Kidnapping.

  "Those are the reasons why people disappear, eliminating criminals andthose who have financial difficulties. Dream on that and see if you canwork out the answer in your subliminal consciousness. Good-night."

  Needless to say, I was no further advanced in the morning than atmidnight, but Kennedy seemed to have evolved at least a tentativeprogramme. It started with a visit to the public library, where hecarefully went over the ground already gone over by the police. Findingnothing, he concluded that Miss Gilbert had not found what she wantedat the library and had continued the quest, even as he was continuingthe quest of herself.

  His next step was to visit the department-store. The purchase had beenan inconsequential affair of half a dozen handkerchiefs, to be senthome. This certainly did not look like a premeditated disappearance;but Craig was proceeding on the assumption that this purchase indicatednothing except that there had been a sale of handkerchiefs which hadcaught her eye. Having stopped at the library first and a book-shopafterward, he assumed that she had also visited the book-department ofthe store. But here again nobody seemed to recall her or that she hadasked for anything in particular.

  Our last hope was the book-shop. We paused for a moment to look at thedisplay in the window, but only for a moment, for Craig quickly pulledme along inside. In the window was a display of books bearing the sign:

  BOOKS ON NEW THOUGHT, OCCULTISM, CLAIRVOYANCE, MESMERISM

  Instead of attempting to go over the ground already traversed by thepolice, who had interrogated the numerous clerks without discoveringwhich one, if any, had waited on Miss Gilbert, Kennedy asked at once tosee the record of sales of the morning on which she had disappeared.Running his eye quickly down the record, he picked out a work onclairvoyance and asked to see the young woman who had made the sale.The clerk was, however, unable to recall to whom she had sold the book,though she finally admitted that she thought i
t might have been a youngwoman who had some difficulty in making up her mind just which one ofthe numerous volumes she wanted. She could not say whether the pictureKennedy showed her of Miss Gilbert was that of her customer, nor wasshe sure that the customer was not escorted by some one. Altogether itwas nearly as hazy as our interview with Lawton.

  "Still," remarked Kennedy cheerfully, "it may furnish a clue, afterall. The clerk at least was not positive that it was NOT Miss Gilbertto whom she sold the book. Since we are down in this neighbourhood, letus drop in and see Mr. Gilbert again. Perhaps something may havehappened since last night."

  Mr. Gilbert was in the dry-goods business in a loft building in the newdry-goods section on Fourth Avenue. One could almost feel that atragedy had invaded even his place of business. As we entered, we couldsee groups of clerks, evidently discussing the case. It was no wonder,I felt, for the head of the firm was almost frantic, and beside theloss of his only daughter the loss of his business would count asnothing, at least until the keen edge of his grief was worn off.

  "Mr. Gilbert is out," replied his secretary, in answer to our inquiry."Haven't you heard? They have just discovered the body of his daughterin a lonely spot in the Croton Aqueduct. The report came in from thepolice just a few minutes ago. It is thought that she was murdered inthe city and carried there in an automobile."

  The news came with a stinging shock. I felt that, after all, we weretoo late. In another hour the extras would be out, and the news wouldbe spread broadcast. The affair would be in the hands of the amateurdetectives, and there was no telling how many promising clues might belost.

  "Dead!" exclaimed Kennedy, as he jammed his hat on his head and boltedfor the door. "Hurry, Walter. We must get there before the coronermakes his examination."

  I don't know how we managed to do it, but by dint of subway, elevated,and taxicab we arrived on the scene of the tragedy not very long afterthe coroner. Mr. Gilbert was there, silent, and looking as if he hadaged many years since the night before; his hand shook and he couldmerely nod recognition to us.

  Already the body had been carried to a rough shanty in theneighbourhood, and the coroner was questioning those who had made thediscovery, a party of Italian labourers on the water improvement nearby. They were a vicious looking crew, but they could tell nothingbeyond the fact that one of them had discovered the body in a thicketwhere it could not possibly have lain longer than overnight. There wasno reason, as yet, to suspect any of them, and indeed, as a muchtravelled automobile road ran within a few feet of the thicket, therewas every reason to believe that the murder, if murder it was, had beencommitted elsewhere and that the perpetrator had taken this means ofgetting rid of his unfortunate victim.

  Drawn and contorted were the features of the poor girl, as if she haddied in great physical agony or after a terrific struggle. Indeed,marks of violence on her delicate throat and neck showed only tooplainly that she had been choked.

  As Kennedy bent over the form of the once lovely Georgette, he notedthe clenched hands. Then he looked at them more closely. I was standinga little behind him, for though Craig and I had been through manythrilling adventures, the death of a human being, especially of a girllike Miss Gilbert, filled me with horror and revulsion. I could see,however, that he had noted something unusual. He pulled out a littlepocket magnifying glass and made an even more minute examination of thehands. At last he rose and faced us, almost as if in triumph. I couldnot see what he had discovered--at least it did not seem to be anythingtangible, like a weapon.

  Quickly he opened the pocketbook which she had carried. It seemed to beempty, and he was about to shut it when something white, sticking inone corner, caught his eye. Craig pulled out a clipping from anewspaper, and we crowded about him to look at it. It was a largeclipping from the section of one of the metropolitan journals whichcarries a host of such advertisements as "spirit medium," "psychicpalmist," "yogi mediator," "magnetic influences," "crystal gazer,""astrologer," "trance medium," and the like. At once I thought of thesallow, somewhat mystic countenance of Dudley, and the idea flashed,half-formed, in my mind that somehow this clue, together with thepurchase of the book on clairvoyance, might prove the final linknecessary.

  But the first problem in Kennedy's mind was to keep in touch with whatthe authorities were doing. That kept us busy for several hours, duringwhich Craig was in close consultation with the coroner's physician. Thephysician was of the opinion that Miss Gilbert had been drugged as wellas strangled, and for many hours, down in his laboratory, his chemistswere engaged in trying to discover from tests of her blood whether thetheory was true. One after another the ordinary poisons wereeliminated, until it began to look hopeless.

  So far Kennedy had been only an interested spectator, but as thedifferent tests failed, he had become more and more keenly alive. Atlast it seemed as if he could wait no longer.

  "Might I try one or two reactions with that sample?" he asked of thephysician who handed him the test tube in silence.

  For a moment or two Craig thoughtfully regarded it, while with one handhe fingered the bottles of ether, alcohol, distilled water, and themany reagents standing before him. He picked up one and poured a littleliquid into the test tube. Then, removing the precipitate that wasformed, he tried to dissolve it in water. Not succeeding, he tried theether and then the alcohol. Both were successful.

  "What is it?" we asked as he held the tube up critically to the light.

  "I can't be sure yet," he answered slowly. "I thought at first that itwas some alkaloid. I'll have to make further tests before I can bepositive just what it is. If I may retain this sample I think that withother clues that I have discovered I may be able to tell you somethingdefinite soon."

  The coroner's physician willingly assented, and Craig quicklydispatched the tube, carefully sealed, to his laboratory.

  "That part of our investigation will keep," he remarked as we left thecoroner's office. "To-night I think we had better resume the searchwhich was so unexpectedly interrupted this morning. I suppose you haveconcluded, Walter, that we can be reasonably sure that the trail leadsback through the fortune-tellers and soothsayers of New York,--whichone, it would be difficult to say. The obvious thing, therefore, is toconsult them all. I think you will enjoy that part of it, with yournewspaperman's liking for the bizarre."

  The fact was that it did appeal to me, though at the moment I wasendeavouring to formulate a theory in which Dudley Lawton and anaccomplice would account for the facts.

  It was early in the evening as we started out on our tour of theclairvoyants of New York. The first whom Kennedy selected from theadvertisements in the clipping described himself as "Hata, the VeiledProphet, born with a double veil, educated in occult mysteries andHindu philosophy in Egypt and India." Like all of them hisadvertisement dwelt much on love and money:

  The great questions of life are quickly solved, failure turned to success, sorrow to joy, the separated are brought together, foes made friends. Truths are laid bare to his mysterious mind. He gives you power to attract and control those whom you may desire, tells you of living or dead, your secret troubles, the cause and remedy. Advice on all affairs of life, love, courtship, marriage, business, speculations, investments. Overcomes rivals, enemies, and all evil influences. Will tell you how to attract, control, and change the thought, intentions, actions, or character of any one you desire.

  Hata was a modest adept who professed to be able to explain the wholeten stages of Yoga. He had established himself on a street near TimesSquare, just off Broadway, and there we found several automobiles andtaxicabs standing at the curb, a mute testimony to the wealth of atleast some of his clientele.

  A solemn-faced coloured man ushered us into a front parlour and askedif we had come to see the professor. Kennedy answered that we had.

  "Will you please write your names and addresses on the outside sheet ofthis pad, then tear it off and keep it?" asked the attendant. "We askall visitors to do that simply as a guarantee of good fai
th. Then ifyou will write under it what you wish to find out from the professor Ithink it will help you concentrate. But don't write while I am in theroom, and don't let me see the writing."

  "A pretty cheap trick," exclaimed Craig when the attendant had gone."That's how he tells the gullible their names before they tell him.I've a good notion to tear off two sheets. The second is chemicallyprepared, with paraffin, I think. By dusting it over with powderedcharcoal you can bring out what was written on the first sheet over it.Oh, well, let's let him get something across, anyway. Here goes, ournames and addresses, and underneath I'll write, 'What has become ofGeorgette Gilbert?'"

  Perhaps five minutes later the negro took the pad, the top sheet havingbeen torn off and placed in Kennedy's pocket. He also took a small feeof two dollars. A few minutes later we were ushered into the awfulpresence of the "Veiled Prophet," a tall, ferret-eyed man in a robethat looked suspiciously like a brocaded dressing-gown much too largefor him.

  Sure enough, he addressed us solemnly by name and proceeded directly totell us why we had come.

  "Let us look into the crystal of the past, present, and future and readwhat it has to reveal," he added solemnly, darkening the room, whichwas already only dimly lighted. Then Hata, the crystal-gazer, solemnlyseated himself in a chair. Before him, in his hands, reposing on a bagof satin, lay a huge oval piece of glass. He threw forward his head andriveted his eyes on the milky depths of the crystal. In a moment hebegan to talk, first ramblingly, then coherently.

  "I see a man, a dark man," he began. "He is talking earnestly to ayoung girl. She is trying to avoid him. Ah--he seizes her by both arms.They struggle. He has his hand at her throat. He is choking her."

  I was thinking of the newspaper descriptions of Lawton, which the fakirhad undoubtedly read, but Kennedy was leaning forward over thecrystal-gazer, not watching the crystal at all, nor with his eyes onthe clairvoyant's face.

  "Her tongue is protruding from her mouth, her eyes are bulging---"

  "Yes, yes," urged Kennedy. "Go on."

  "She falls. He strikes her. He flees. He goes to---"

  Kennedy laid his hand ever so lightly on the arm of the clairvoyant,then quickly withdrew it.

  "I cannot see where he goes. It is dark, dark. You will have to comeback to-morrow when the vision is stronger."

  The thing stung me by its crudity. Kennedy, however, seemed elated byour experience as we gained the street.

  "Craig," I remonstrated, "you don't mean to say you attach anyimportance to vapourings like that? Why, there wasn't a thing thefellow couldn't have imagined from the newspapers, even the clumsydescription of Dudley Lawton."

  "We'll see," he replied cheerfully, as we stopped under a light to readthe address of the next seer, who happened to be in the same block.

  It proved to be the psychic palmist who called himself "the Pandit." Healso was "born with a strange and remarkable power--not meant togratify the idle curious, but to direct, advise, and help men andwomen"--at the usual low fee. He said in print that he gave instantrelief to those who had trouble in love, and also positively guaranteedto tell your name and the object of your visit. He added:

  Love, courtship, marriage. What is more beautiful than the true unblemished love of one person for another? What is sweeter, better, or more to be desired than perfect harmony and happiness? If you want to win the esteem, love, and everlasting affection of another, see the Pandit, the greatest living master of the occult science.

  Inasmuch as this seer fell into a passion at the other incompetentsoothsayers in the next column (and almost next door) it seemed as ifwe must surely get something for our money from the Pandit.

  Like Hata, the Pandit lived in a large brownstone house. The man whoadmitted us led us into a parlour where several people were seatedabout as if waiting for some one. The pad and writing process wasrepeated with little variation. Since we were the latest comers we hadto wait some time before we were ushered into the presence of thePandit, who was clad in a green silk robe.

  The room was large and had very small windows of stained glass. At oneend of the room was an altar on which burned several candles which gaveout an incense. The atmosphere of the room was heavy with a fragrancethat seemed to combine cologne with chloroform.

  The Pandit waved a wand, muttering strange sounds as he did so, for inaddition to his palmistry, which he seemed not disposed to exhibit thatnight, he dealt in mysteries beyond human ken. A voice, quite evidentlyfrom a phonograph buried in the depths of the altar, answered in anunknown language which sounded much like "Al-ya wa-aa haal-ya waa-ha."Across the dim room flashed a pale blue light with a crackling noise,the visible rays from a Crookes tube, I verily believe. The Pandit,however, said it was the soul of a saint passing through. Then heproduced two silken robes, one red, which he placed on Kennedy'sshoulders, and one violet, which he threw over me.

  From the air proceeded strange sounds of weird music and words. ThePandit seemed to fall asleep, muttering. Apparently, however, Kennedyand I were bad subjects, for after some minutes of this he gave it up,saying that the spirits had no revelation to make to-night in thematter in which we had called. Inasmuch as we had not written on thepad just what that matter was, I was not surprised. Nor was I surprisedwhen the Pandit laid off his robe and said unctuously, "But if you willcall to-morrow and concentrate, I am sure that I can secure a messagethat will be helpful about your little matter."

  Kennedy promised to call, but still he lingered. The Pandit, anxious toget rid of us, moved toward the door. Kennedy sidled over toward thegreen robe which the Pandit had laid on a chair.

  "Might I have some of your writings to look over in the meantime?"asked Craig as if to gain time.

  "Yes, but they will cost you three dollars a copy--the price I chargeall my students," answered the Pandit with just a trace of a gleam ofsatisfaction at having at last made an impression.

  He turned and entered a cabinet to secure the mystic literature. Themoment he had disappeared Kennedy seized the opportunity he had beenwaiting for. He picked up the green robe and examined the collar andneck very carefully under the least dim of the lights in the room. Heseemed to find what he wished, yet he continued to examine the robeuntil the sound of returning footsteps warned him to lay it down again.He had not been quite quick enough. The Pandit eyed us suspiciously,then he rang a bell. The attendant appeared instantly, noiselessly.

  "Show these men into the library," he commanded with just the faintestshade of trepidation. "My servant will give you the book," he said toCraig. "Pay him."

  It seemed that we had suddenly been looked upon with disfavour, and Ihalf suspected he thought we were spies of the police, who had recentlyreceived numerous complaints of the financial activities of the fortunetellers, who worked in close harmony with certain bucket-shop operatorsin fleecing the credulous of their money by inspired investment advice.At any rate, the attendant quickly opened a door into the darkness.Treading cautiously I followed Craig. The door closed behind us. Iclenched my fists, not knowing what to expect.

  "The deuce!" exclaimed Kennedy. "He passed us out into an alley. Thereis the street not twenty feet away. The Pandit is a clever one, allright."

  It was now too late to see any of the other clairvoyants on our list,so that with this unceremonious dismissal we decided to conclude ourinvestigations for the night.

  The next morning we wended our way up into the Bronx, where one of themystics had ensconced himself rather out of the beaten track of policeprotection, or persecution, one could not say which. I was wonderingwhat sort of vagary would come next. It proved to be "Swami, thegreatest clairvoyant, psychic palmist, and Yogi mediator of them all."He also stood alone in his power, for he asserted:

  Names friends, enemies, rivals, tells whom and when you will marry, advises you upon love, courtship, marriage, business, speculation, transactions of every nature. If you are worried, perplexed, or in trouble come to this wonderful man. He reads your life like an open book; he overcom
es evil influences, reunites the separated, causes speedy and happy marriage with the one of your choice, tells how to influence any one you desire, tells whether wife or sweetheart is true or false. Love, friendship, and influence of others obtained and a greater share of happiness in life secured. The key to success is that marvellous, subtle, unseen power that opens to your vision the greatest secrets of life. It gives you power which enables you to control the minds of men and women.

  The Swami engaged to explain the "wonderful Karmic law," and by hismethod one could develop a wonderful magnetic personality by which hecould win anything the human heart desired. It was therefore with greatanticipation that we sought out the wonderful Swami and, falling intothe spirit of his advertisement, posed as "come-ons" and pleaded toobtain this wonderful magnetism and a knowledge of the Karmic law--at aridiculously low figure, considering its inestimable advantages to oneengaged in the pursuit of criminal science. Naturally the Swami waspleased at two such early callers, and his narrow, half-bald head, longslim nose, sharp grey eyes, and sallow, unwholesome complexion showedhis pleasure in every line and feature.

  Rubbing his hands together as he motioned us into the next room, theSwami seated us on a circular divan with piles of cushions upon it.There were clusters of flowers in vases about the room, which gave itthe odour of the renewed vitality of the year.

  A lackey entered with a silver tray of cups of coffee and a silver jarin the centre. Talking slowly and earnestly about the "great Karmiclaw," the Swami bade us drink the coffee, which was of a vile, muddy,Turkish variety. Then from the jar he took a box of rock crystalcontaining a sort of greenish compound which he kneaded into a littlegum--gum tragacanth, I afterward learned,--and bade us taste. It wasnot at all unpleasant to the taste, and as nothing happened, except thesuave droning of the mystic before us, we ate several of the gumpellets.

  I am at a loss to describe adequately just the sensations that I soonexperienced. It was as if puffs of hot and cold air were alternatelyblown on my spine, and I felt a twitching of my neck, legs, and arms.Then came a subtle warmth. The whole thing seemed droll; the noise ofthe Swami's voice was most harmonious. His and Kennedy's faces seemedtransformed. They were human faces, but each had a sort of animallikeness back of it, as Lavater has said. The Swami seemed to me to bethe fox, Kennedy the owl. I looked in the glass, and I was the eagle. Ilaughed outright.

  It was sensuous in the extreme. The beautiful paintings on the walls atonce became clothed in flesh and blood. A picture of a lady hangingnear me caught my eye. The countenance really smiled and laughed andvaried from moment to moment. Her figure became rounded and living andseemed to stir in the frame. The face was beautiful but ghastly. Iseemed to be borne along on a sea of pleasure by currents of voluptuoushappiness.

  The Swami was affected by a profound politeness. As he rose and walkedabout the room, still talking, he salaamed and bowed. When I spoke itsounded like a gun, with an echo long afterward rumbling in my brain.Thoughts came to me like fury, bewildering, sometimes as points oflight in the most exquisite fireworks. Objects were clothed in mostfantastic garbs. I looked at my two animal companions. I seemed to readtheir thoughts. I felt strange affinities with them, even with theSwami. Yet it was all by the psychological law of the association ofideas, though I was no longer master but the servant of those ideas.

  As for Kennedy, the stuff seemed to affect him much differently than itdid myself. Indeed, it seemed to rouse in him something vicious. Themore I smiled and the more the Swami salaamed, the more violent I couldsee Craig getting, whereas I was lost in a maze of dreams that I wouldnot have stopped if I could. Seconds seemed to be years; minutes ages.Things at only a short distance looked much as they do when looked atthrough the inverted end of a telescope. Yet it all carried with it anagreeable exhilaration which I can only describe as the heightenedsense one feels on the first spring day of the year.

  At last the continued plying of the drug seemed to be too much forKennedy. The Swami had made a profound salaam. In an instant Kennedyhad seized with both hands the long flowing hair at the back of theSwami's bald forehead, and he tugged until the mystic yelled with painand the tears stood in his eyes.

  With a leap I roused myself from the train of dreams and flung myselfbetween them. At the sound of my voice and the pressure of my grasp,Craig sullenly and slowly relaxed his grip. A vacant look seemed tosteal into his face, and seizing his hat, which lay on a near-by stool,he stalked out in silence, and I followed.

  Neither of us spoke for a moment after we had reached the street, butout of the corner of my eye I could see that Kennedy's body wasconvulsed as if with suppressed emotion.

  "Do you feel better in the air?" I asked anxiously, yet somewhat vexedand feeling a sort of lassitude and half regret at the reality of lifeand not of the dreams.

  It seemed as if he could restrain himself no longer. He burst out intoa hearty laugh. "I was just watching the look of disgust on your face,"he said as he opened his hand and showed me three or four of the gumlozenges that he had palmed instead of swallowing. "Ha, ha! I wonderwhat the Swami thinks of his earnest effort to expound the Karmic law."

  It was beyond me. With the Swami's concoction still shooting thoughtslike sky rockets through my brain I gave it up and allowed Kennedy toengineer our next excursion into the occult.

  One more seer remained to be visited. This one professed to "hold yourlife mirror" and by his "magnetic monochrome," whatever that might be,he would "impart to you an attractive personality, mastery of being,for creation and control of life conditions."

  He described himself as the "Guru," and, among other things, heprofessed to be a sun-worshipper. At any rate, the room into which wewere admitted was decorated with the four-spoked wheel, or wheel andcross, the winged circle, and the winged orb. The Guru himself was aswarthy individual with a purple turban wound around his head. In hisinner room were many statuettes, photographs of other Gurus of thefaith, and on each of the four walls were mysterious symbols in plasterrepresenting a snake curved in a circle, swallowing his tail, afive-pointed star, and in the centre another winged sphere.

  Craig asked the Guru to explain the symbols, to which he replied with asmile: "The snake represents eternity, the star involution andevolution of the soul, while the winged sphere--eh, well, thatrepresents something else. Do you come to learn of the faith?"

  At this gentle hint Craig replied that he did, and the utmostamicability was restored by the purchase of the Green Book of the Guru,which seemed to deal with everything under the sun, and particularlythe revival of ancient Asiatic fire-worship with many forms andceremonies, together with posturing and breathing that rivalled the"turkey trot," the "bunny hug," and the "grizzly bear." The book, as weturned over its pages, gave directions for preparing everything fromfood to love-philtres and the elixir of life. One very interestingchapter was devoted to "electric marriage," which seemed to come tothose only who, after searching patiently, at last found perfect mates.Another of the Guru's tenets seemed to be purification by eliminatingall false modesty, bathing in the sun, and while bathing engaging inany occupation which kept the mind agreeably occupied. On the firstpage was the satisfying legend, "There is nothing in the world that adisciple can give to pay the debt to the Guru who has taught him onetruth."

  As we talked, it seemed quite possible to me that the Guru might exerta very powerful hypnotic influence over his disciples or those who cameto seek his advice. Besides this indefinable hypnotic influence, I alsonoted the more material lock on the door to the inner sanctuary.

  "Yes," the Guru was saying to Kennedy, "I can secure you one of thelove-pills from India, but it will cost you--er--ten dollars." I thinkhe hesitated, to see how much the traffic would bear, from one to onehundred, and compromised with only one zero after the unit. Kennedyappeared satisfied, and the Guru departed with alacrity to secure thespecially imported pellet.

  In a corner was a sort of dressing-table on which lay a comb and brush.Kennedy seemed much int
erested in the table and was examining it whenthe Guru returned. Just as the door opened he managed to slip the brushinto his pocket and appear interested in the mystic symbols on the wallopposite.

  "If that doesn't work," remarked the Guru in remarkably good English,"let me know, and you must try one of my charm bottles. But thelove-pills are fine. Good-day."

  Outside Craig looked at me quizzically. "You wouldn't believe it,Walter, would you?" he said. "Here in this twentieth century in NewYork, and in fact in every large city of the world--love-philtres,love-pills, and all the rest of it. And it is not among the ignorantthat these things are found, either. You remember we saw automobileswaiting before some of the places."

  "I suspect that all who visit the fakirs are not so gullible, afterall," I replied sententiously.

  "Perhaps not. I think I shall have something interesting to sayto-night as a result of our visits, at least."

  During the remainder of the day Kennedy was closely confined in hislaboratory with his microscopes, slides, chemicals, test-tubes, andother apparatus. As for myself, I put in the time speculating which ofthe fakirs had been in some mysterious way connected with the case andin what manner. Many were the theories which I had formed and thesituations I conjured up, and in nearly all I had one central figure,the young man whose escapades had been the talk of even the fast set ofa fast society.

  That night Kennedy, with the assistance of First Deputy O'Connor, whowas not averse to taking any action within the law toward thesoothsayers, assembled a curiously cosmopolitan crowd in hislaboratory. Besides the Gilberts were Dudley Lawton and his father,Hata, the Pandit, the Swami, and the Guru--the latter four persons inhigh dudgeon at being deprived of the lucrative profits of a Sundaynight.

  Kennedy began slowly, leading gradually up to his point: "A new meansof bringing criminals to justice has been lately studied by one of thegreatest scientific detectives of crime in the world, the man to whomwe are indebted for our most complete systems of identification andapprehension." Craig paused and fingered the microscope before himthoughtfully. "Human hair," he resumed, "has recently been the study ofthat untiring criminal scientist, M. Bertillon. He has drawn up a full,classified, and graduated table of all the known colours of the humanhair, a complete palette, so to speak, of samples gathered in everyquarter of the globe. Henceforth burglars, who already wear gloves orpaint their fingers with a rubber composition for fear of leavingfinger-prints, will have to wear close-fitting caps or keep their headsshaved. Thus he has hit upon a new method of identification of thosesought by the police. For instance, from time to time the questionarises whether hair is human or animal. In such cases the microscopetells the answer truthfully.

  "For a long time I have been studying hair, taking advantage of thoseexcellent researches by M. Bertillon. Human hair is fairly uniform,tapering gradually. Under the microscope it is practically alwayspossible to distinguish human hair from animal. I shall not go into thedistinctions, but I may add that it is also possible to determine veryquickly the difference between all hair, human or animal, and cottonwith its corkscrew-like twists, linen with its jointed structure, andsilk, which is long, smooth, and cylindrical."

  Again Kennedy paused as if to emphasise this preface. "I have here," hecontinued, "a sample of hair." He had picked up a microscope slide thatwas lying on the table. It certainly did not look very thrilling--amere piece of glass, that was all. But on the glass was what appearedto be merely a faint line. "This slide," he said, holding it up, "haswhat must prove an unescapable clue to the identity of the manresponsible for the disappearance of Miss Gilbert. I shall not tell youyet who he is, for the simple reason that, though I could make a shrewdguess, I do not yet know what the verdict of science is, and in sciencewe do not guess where we can prove.

  "You will undoubtedly remember that when Miss Gilbert's body wasdiscovered, it bore no evidence of suicide, but on the contrary themarks of violence. Her fists were clenched, as if she had struggledwith all her power against a force that had been too much for her. Iexamined her hands, expecting to find some evidence of a weapon she hadused to defend herself. Instead, I found what was more valuable. Hereon this slide are several hairs that I found tightly grasped in herrigid hands."

  I could not help recalling Kennedy's remark earlier in the case--thatit hung on slender threads. Yet how strong might not those threadsprove!

  "There was also in her pocketbook a newspaper clipping bearing theadvertisements of several clairvoyants," he went on. "Mr. Jameson andmyself had already discovered what the police had failed to find, thaton the morning of the day on which she disappeared Miss Gilbert hadmade three distinct efforts, probably, to secure books on clairvoyance.Accordingly, Mr. Jameson and myself have visited several of thefortune-tellers and practitioners of the occult sciences in which wehad reason to believe Miss Gilbert was interested. They all, by theway, make a specialty of giving advice in money matters and solving theproblems of lovers. I suspect that at times Mr. Jameson has thoughtthat I was demented, but I had to resort to many and various expedientsto collect the specimens of hair which I wanted. From the police, whoused Mr. Lawton's valet, I received some hair from his head. Here isanother specimen from each of the advertisers, Hata, the Swami, thePandit, and the Guru. There is just one of these specimens whichcorresponds in every particular of colour, thickness, and texture withthe hair found so tightly grasped in Miss Gilbert's hand."

  As Craig said this I could feel a sort of gasp of astonishment from ourlittle audience. Still he was not quite ready to make his disclosure.

  "Lest I should be prejudiced," he pursued evenly, "by my own ratherstrong convictions, and in order that I might examine the sampleswithout fear or favour, I had one of my students at the laboratory takethe marked hairs, mount them, number them, and put in numberedenvelopes the names of the persons who furnished them. But before Iopen the envelope numbered the same as the slide which contains thehair which corresponds precisely with that hair found in Miss Gilbert'shand--and it is slide No. 2---" said Kennedy, picking out the slidewith his finger and moving it on the table with as much coolness as ifhe were moving a chessman on a board instead of playing in the terriblegame of human life, "before I read the name I have still one moredamning fact to disclose."

  Craig now had us on edge with excitement, a situation which I sometimesthought he enjoyed more keenly than any other in his relentless tracingdown of a criminal.

  "What was it that caused Miss Gilbert's death?" asked Kennedy. "Thecoroner's physician did not seem to be thoroughly satisfied with thetheory of physical violence alone. Nor did I. Some one, I believe,exerted a peculiar force in order to get her into his power. What wasthat force? At first I thought it might have been the hackneyedknockout drops, but tests by the coroner's physician eliminated that.Then I thought it might be one of the alkaloids, such as morphine,cocaine, and others. But it was not any of the usual things that wasused to entice her away from her family and friends. From tests that Ihave made I have discovered the one fact necessary to complete my case,the drug used to lure her and against which she fought in deadlystruggle."

  He placed a test tube in a rack before us. "This tube," he continued,"contains one of the most singular and, among us, least known of thefive common narcotics of the world--tobacco, opium, coca, betel nut,and hemp. It can be smoked, chewed, used as a drink, or taken as aconfection. In the form of a powder it is used by the narghile smoker.As a liquid it can be taken as an oily fluid or in alcohol. Taken inany of these forms, it literally makes the nerves walk, dance, and run.It heightens the feelings and sensibilities to distraction, producingwhat is really hysteria. If the weather is clear, this drug will makelife gorgeous; if it rains, tragic. Slight vexation becomes deadlyrevenge; courage becomes rashness; fear, abject terror; and gentleaffection or even a passing liking is transformed into passionate love.It is the drug derived from the Indian hemp, scientifically namedCannabis Indica, better known as hashish, or bhang, or a dozen othernames in the East. Its chief characteristic is t
hat it has a profoundeffect on the passions. Thus, under its influence, natives of the Eastbecome greatly exhilarated, then debased, and finally violent, rushingforth on the streets with the cry, 'Amok, amok,'--'Kill, kill'--as wesay, 'running amuck.' An overdose of this drug often causes insanity,while in small quantities our doctors use it as a medicine. Any one whohas read the brilliant Theophile Gautier's 'Club des Hachichens' orBayard Taylor's experience at Damascus knows something of the effect ofhashish, however.

  "In reconstructing the story of Georgette Gilbert, as best I can, Ibelieve that she was lured to the den of one of the numerous cultspractised in New York, lured by advertisements offering advice inhidden love affairs. Led on by her love for a man whom she could notand would not put out of her life, and by her affection for herparents, she was frantic. This place offered hope, and to it she wentin all innocence, not knowing that it was only the open door to a lifesuch as the most lurid disorderly resorts of the metropolis couldscarcely match. There her credulity was preyed upon, and she wastricked into taking this drug, which itself has such marked andperverting effect. But, though she must have been given a great deal ofthe drug, she did not yield, as many of the sophisticated do. Shestruggled frantically, futilely. Will and reason were not conquered,though they sat unsteadily on their thrones. The wisp of hair sotightly clasped in her dead hand shows that she fought bitterly to theend."

  Kennedy was leaning forward earnestly, glaring at each of us in turn.Lawton was twisting uneasily in his chair, and I could see that hisfists were doubled up and that he was holding himself in leash as ifwaiting for something, eyeing us all keenly. The Swami was seized witha violent fit of trembling, and the other fakirs were staring inamazement.

  Quickly I stepped between Dudley Lawton and Kennedy, but as I did so,he leaped behind me, and before I could turn he was grappling wildlywith some one on the floor.

  "It's all right, Walter," cried Kennedy, tearing open the envelope onthe table. "Lawton has guessed right. The hair was the Swami's.Georgette Gilbert was one victim who fought and rescued herself from aslavery worse than death. And there is one mystic who could not foreseearrest and the death house at Sing Sing in his horoscope."