“‘Not of respite. There is no respite from my torture till the end comes, be that what it may. But there are two days remaining of the thirty.’
“That was the problem, Mr. Mitchel,” said Mr. Barnes, “which I was called upon to solve. Bearing in mind that I had not yet received the other man’s communication, you will, of course, concede that it was my duty to endeavor to save this man?”
“Undoubtedly. It was your duty to save the man under any circumstances. We should always prevent crime where we can. The question here was rather how you might be able to accomplish this.”
“How would you have proceeded, had the case been in your care?”
“Oh, no, Mr. Barnes,” said Mr. Mitchel, laughing. “You cannot be allowed to get my advice after the affair is over. I must come in as principal or spectator. In this instance I am merely a spectator.”
“Very well. As you please. My plan, I think, was as ingenious as it was simple. It was evident to me either that we had to deal with a man who did not intend to kill his victim, in which case any course would save him; or else the affair might be serious. If the man really was plotting murder, the affair occupying so long a time was unquestionably premeditated and thoroughly well planned. Whatever the scheme, it was equally obvious that we could not hope to fathom it. The blow, if it should come, would be swift and sure. Consequently but one course lay before us.”
“And that was?”
“To remove our man to such a place of safety that the blow, however well conceived, could not by any possibility reach him.”
“Ah, well argued! And could you find such a place?”
“Yes. A private room in a safe-deposit vault.”
“Not bad. Not half bad. And you did this?”
“Without delay. I explained my purpose to the officers of one of these institutions, and before another hour had passed I had Mr. Odell ‘safely deposited,’ where none could reach him except myself.”
“Of course you supplied him with eatables?”
“Yes, indeed, and liquor and cigars beside. Poor fellow! How he must have enjoyed his cigars! When I visited him yesterday, on opening the door of his room he looked like a spectre in a fog. Now I must further remind you that I put Mr. Odell in this safety-vault before receiving the letter from the Texan, firmly believing at the time that we were taking unnecessary precautions. After reading the Texan’s story I altered my mind, becoming convinced that any other course would have been fatal. Indeed so impressed was I with the determination of this man to have Mr. Odell’s life, that though I had the intended victim absolutely safe, still I felt it my duty to make assurance doubly sure, by remaining at the vault myself throughout the rest of the final twenty-four hours, which terminated at noon to-day.”
“Then you released your prisoner?”
“I did, and a happier man than he you never saw. He stood out in the open air and took a long breath as eagerly as a drunkard drinks his tipple.”
“And then what?”
“Why, then we separated. He said he would go to his hotel for a good sleep, for he had little rest in that vault.”
“And that, you think, ends the case?”
A quizzical tone in Mr. Mitchel’s voice attracted Mr. Barnes’s keen sense of hearing, and, slightly disturbed, he said:
“Why, yes. What do you think?”
“I think I would like to go to that man’s hotel, and I think we cannot get there too quickly.”
“Why, what do you mean? Explain.”
“I cannot explain. There is no time. Do not waste another minute, but let us go at once and call on your client.”
Mystified, Mr. Barnes jumped up, and the two men hurried out of the building and up Broadway. They had only a few blocks to walk, and were soon in the elevator of the hotel ascending to the top floor where was that room whose only communication with the outer world was a skylight. Reaching the door, Mr. Barnes tried the knob, but the door was locked. He knocked first lightly and then more violently, but there was no response.
“It is useless, Mr. Barnes,” said Mr. Mitchel. “We must break in the door, and I fear we may be too late.”
“Too late?” said Mr. Barnes, wonderingly; but without losing more time throwing his weight against the door it yielded and flew in. The two men and the hall-boy entered, and pointing to the floor where lay the body of a man, Mr. Mitchel said:
“See! we are too late.”
They lifted the man to the bed, and hastily summoned medical aid, but he was dead. While the hall-boy was gone to call the doctor, Mr. Barnes ruefully said:
“This is incomprehensible to me. After reading that Texan’s letter, I was so assured that however vengeful he might be, still he was an honorable man, that I felt positive he would keep his word, and that this man would be safe at the expiration of the note.”
“You were entirely right in your estimate of the Texan’s character, Mr. Barnes. Your fatal error was in regard to the expiration of the note.”
“Why, the thirty days expired at noon to-day.”
“Very true. But you have overlooked the usual three days’ grace!”
“The devil.”
“Just so; the devil,—in this instance the devil being the Texan. Ordinarily the extra three days is an extension demanded by the maker of the note, but in this instance it has been utilized by the deviser of the scheme, who, knowing that his man would be on guard during the thirty days, misled him by a promise of safety thereafter. But he did more than that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why, how has he accomplished his purpose? How has he killed this man up here in a locked room, which has no window through which a bullet might be fired?”
“I do not know; that is another puzzle to be solved.”
“I have already solved it. The promissory note is the vehicle of his vengeance,—the means by which the opportunity was obtained, and the means by which the end has been consummated. You will recall that Odell told you that the Texan promised that if he should live beyond the limitation of the note it would be returned so that he might burn it, and he might then consider the matter terminated. These were very suggestive words, and have wrought this man ruin. Evidently soon after he reached this hotel, feeling that at last he had escaped his threatened doom, an envelope was sent up to him, which contained the so-called promissory note. It being too dark in here to read, he lighted his gas. The reception of this paper caused him satisfaction because it seemed to show that his adversary was keeping faith. It had been suggested to him that he might ‘burn’ the note, and so ‘terminate’ the affair. Therefore he set fire to the paper, which evidently had been charged with an explosive substance. The explosion not only stunned if it did not kill the man, but it extinguished the gas, leaving the jet open, so that if not destroyed by the explosive he certainly must have been asphyxiated by the escaping gas. Here on the floor is a bit of the paper, and we can still see a few of the words which we know were contained in the promissory note. Then there is the gas turned on, while it is still daylight without. Am I right?”
“Unquestionably,” said Mr. Barnes. “What a diabolical scheme from conception to the final act! But suppose that Mr. Odell had not burned that paper? Then the scheme must have failed.”
“Not at all. You still overlook the three days of grace, of which but a few hours have yet expired.”
X: A Novel Forgery
Mr. Barnes was wondering whether he would soon have a case which would require special mental effort in its solution. “Something that will make me think,” was the way he phrased it to himself. The same idea had occupied him for some time. Not that he had been idle, but his “cases” had all been of such a nature that with a little supervision it had been safe to entrust them entirely to his subordinates. Nothing had occurred to compel his personal investigation. On this morning, however, fate had something peculiarly attractive
for him. His office boy announced a visitor, who, when shown into the detective’s sanctum, introduced himself thus:
“I am Stephen West, cashier of the Fulton National Bank. Is this Mr. Barnes?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the detective. “Is your business important?”
“It is very important to me,” said Mr. West. “I am interested to the extent of forty thousand dollars.”
“Forty thousand dollars! Forgery?” Receiving an assenting nod, Mr. Barnes arose and closed the door of the office after instructing the boy to prevent his being disturbed. Returning to his seat, he said: “Now then, Mr. West, tell me the story. All of it, as far as you know it. Omit no detail, however unimportant it may seem to you.”
“Very good. My bank has been swindled out of forty thousand dollars in the most mysterious manner. We have received four checks, each for ten thousand dollars. These were signed with the name John Wood, one of our best customers. In making up his monthly balance these checks were sent to his house in the usual order of business. To-day Mr. Wood came to the bank, and declared them to be forgeries.”
“Were these checks paid by you personally?”
“Oh, no. We received them through the Clearing-House. They had been deposited at the Harlem National Bank, and reached us in the routine way. They were taken on four different days.”
“Who was the depositor at the Harlem Bank?”
“There is a mystery there. His name is Carl Grasse. Inquiry at the Harlem Bank shows that he has been a depositor for about a year. He had a seemingly flourishing business, a beer-garden and concert place. Recently he sold out and returned to his home in Germany. Before doing so he drew out his deposits and closed his account.”
“How is it that you did not yourself detect the forgeries? I supposed you bank people were so expert nowadays that the cashing of a worthless check would be impossible.”
“Here are the forged checks, and here is one cashed by us since the accounting, which is genuine. Compare them, and perhaps you will admit that anyone might have been deceived.”
Mr. Barnes examined the checks very closely, using a lens to assist his eyes. Presently he laid them down without comment, and said:
“What do you wish me to do, Mr. West?”
“To me it seems like a hopeless task, but at least I should like to have the forger arrested. I will gladly pay five hundred dollars as a reward.”
Mr. Barnes took up the checks again, examined them most carefully with the lens, and once more laid them down. He strummed on his desk a moment and then said suddenly:
“Mr. West, suppose that I not only arrest the guilty man, but recover the forty thousand dollars?”
“You don’t mean to say—” began Mr. West, rather astonished.
“I said ‘suppose,’” interrupted Mr. Barnes.
“Why, in that case,” said Mr. West, “I would gladly give a thousand more.”
“The terms suit me,” said the detective. “I’ll do my best. Leave these checks with me, and I’ll report to you as promptly as possible. One moment,” as Mr. West was about to depart; “I will make a memorandum of something you must do yourself.” He wrote a few lines on a sheet of paper and handed it to Mr. West, saying, “Let me have those to-day, if possible.”
One week later Mr. West received the following note:
“STEPHEN WEST, Esq.:—
“Dear Sir—I have completed my investigation of your case. Please call at my office at four o’clock. If convenient, you may as well bring with you a check for fifteen hundred dollars, made payable to
“JOHN BARNES.”
“Great heavens!” ejaculated the cashier upon reading the above, “he tells me to bring fifteen hundred dollars. That means he has recovered the money. Thank God!” He dropped into his chair, overcome at the sudden release from the suspense of the previous week, and a few tears trickled down his cheek as he thought of his wife and little one who would not now be obliged to give up their pretty little home to make good his loss.
Promptly at four he was ushered into the presence of Mr. Barnes. Impatient to have his hopes confirmed, he exclaimed at once:
“Am I right? You have succeeded?”
“Most thoroughly,” said the detective. “I have discovered the thief, and have him in prison. I also have his written confession.”
“But the forty thousand dollars?”
“All safe and sound. Your bank does not lose a dollar—except the reward.” Mr. Barnes added the last after a pause and with a twinkle of his eye.
“Oh, Mr. Barnes, that is a trifle compared to what I expected. But tell me, how was this trick played on us? Who did it?”
“Suppose I give you a detailed account of my work in solving the riddle? I am just in the humor for telling it, and besides you will be more appreciative.”
“That is just what I should most desire.”
“Very well,” began Mr. Barnes. “We will go back to the moment when, after scrutinizing the checks, I asked what you would give for the recovery of the money. I asked that because a suspicion had entered my mind, and I knew that if it should prove to be correct, the arrest of the criminal and the recovery of the money would be simultaneous. I will not explain now why that should be a necessary sequence, as you will see that I was right. But I will tell you what made me entertain the suspicion. In the first place, as you know, of course, John Wood uses a private special check. The forgeries were upon blanks which had been stolen from his check-book. Thus the thief seemingly had access to it. Next, as is commonly done nowadays, the amount of the check was not only written, but also punched out, with the additional precaution of punching a dollar mark before and after the figures. It would seem therefore almost impossible that any alterations had been made after the check was originally drawn. Such things have been done, the holes being filled up with paper pulp, and new ones punched afterwards. But in this case nothing of the sort had been attempted, nor indeed was any such procedure necessary, for the checks were not raised from genuine ones, but had been declared by Wood to be forgeries outright. That is, he denied the signatures.”
“Certainly. They were declared to be spurious.”
“Exactly. Now that was all that I knew when you were here last except that the signatures seemed to be very similar. It was possible that they were tracings. The plain deduction from this was that the forger was some one in John Wood’s establishment; some one who could have access to the check-book, to the punch, and also have a chance to copy the signature, if it was copied.”
“All that is quite clear, but how to proceed?”
“I instructed you to send me a list of all the checks which had been paid out on John Wood’s account, giving their dates, numbers, and amounts. I also asked you to procure for me from the Harlem National Bank a similar list of checks paid on order of Carl Grasse. These two lists you sent to me, and they have been very useful. As soon as you left me, and whilst awaiting your lists, I tried some experiments with the forged checks. First I argued that if the signatures were traced, having been made, as it were, from a model, it would follow necessarily that they would exactly coincide if superimposed the one upon the other. Now whilst a man from habit will write his name very similarly a thousand times, I doubt if in a million times he would, or could, exactly reproduce his signature. The test of placing one over the other and examining with transmitted light satisfied me that they were not tracings. I compared each check with each of the others, and with the genuine one which you also left with me. No two were exact counterparts of one another. Still this did not completely prove that they were not tracings, for an artistic criminal might have gone so far as to trace each check from a different model, thus avoiding identity whilst preserving similarity.”
“Mr. Barnes,” said Mr. West, admiringly, “you delight me with your care in reasoning out your point.”
“Mr. West, in speculating up
on circumstantial evidence the most thorough care must be used, if one would avoid arresting the innocent. Nothing, to my mind, is stronger proof against a criminal than a complete chain of circumstantial evidence, but again, nothing is so misleading if at any stage a mistake, an omission, or a misconstruction be allowed to occur. In this case, then, as I was starting out to prove what was merely a suspicion, I determined to be most careful, for indeed I dislike following up suspicion at any time. A suspicion is a prejudgment, and may prove a hindrance to correct reasoning. Not entirely satisfied, therefore, I took the next step. A tracing can be made in either of two ways: with a lead-pencil, or with a stylus of glass or agate. The former leaves a deposit of the lead, whilst the latter makes an indentation upon the paper. In the first case the forger will attempt to remove the lead with an erasing rubber, but will not succeed thoroughly, because some of it will be covered by the ink, and because of the danger of injuring the surface of the paper. In the latter instance, if he be a very thoughtful man, he might undertake to remove the indentation by rubbing the opposite side with the end of his knife or with an ivory paper-cutter. In either case a careful scrutiny with a strong glass would show the burnishing upon the reverse side. I could find nothing of the sort. Taking one of the checks I applied a solution to remove the ink. A thorough examination disclosed that there was no sign either of the graphite, or of the indentation from the stylus. In fact, I became satisfied that the signatures had not been traced.”
“But what did that prove? They might have been imitations made by a clever penman.”
“They might have been, but I doubted it; and since you ask, I will give my reasons. In the first place, the signatures were accepted at your bank not once, but four times. It would be a remarkably clever man to deceive experts so well. However, I did not abandon this possibility until further developments showed conclusively to my mind that it would be a waste of time to follow up that line of research. Had it been necessary to do so, I should have discovered who in the place had the opportunity to do the work, and by examining their past I should have received a hint as to which of these was most likely to be my man. For any man who could have the ability to commit such a clever forgery must have acquired it as a sequence of special skill and aptitude with his pen of which his friends would be cognizant. Once I looked up such a man, and found that as a boy he had forged his parents’ names to excuses for absences from school. Later he turned to higher things. In this instance I was satisfied that the only person having the access to materials, the knowledge of the financial condition of the concern, and the ability to write the checks, was Mr. John Wood himself.”
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