It will be remembered that the Great Fire of Chicago occurred October 8 and 9, 1871, and this case was placed in my hands only about nine weeks afterward. At the time of Mr. Trafton's death, a pall of smoke hung over the city, and, at night, the still-smouldering heaps of coal throughout the "burned district" glowed like volcanic fissures, casting a weird fantastic light about the ruins, and illumining the clouds of smoke overhead with a ruddy glow which was visible for miles away. The streets were filled with dust and ashes, while the fumes of carbonic acid gas were sometimes almost stifling. To venture, at any time, into the waste of ruins, which stretched more than three miles in one direction, through the formerly richest portion of the city, was not a pleasant undertaking; but to make such an excursion at night was attended with more hazard than most peaceably-disposed men would care to run. There were no gaslights, no sidewalks, no street indicators; in many places, piles of stone and brick were heaped in almost impassable barricades from one side of the street to the other; all landmarks were gone, and the old resident was as liable to lose his way as the stranger.
The city, moreover, was crowded with what is sometimes called "a floating population," a species of driftwood, or scum, gathered from every quarter of the globe; indeed, a large percentage seemed to have come straight from the infernal regions, with all the passions and habits incidental to a prolonged residence there. Hence, the labors of the police force were increased to an extent which taxed their abilities to the utmost, and made the task of protecting the respectable portion of the community about all that could be required of them; that they should be apt to suspect foul play, in a case where the coroner had no suspicions, was hardly to be expected. Besides this, there was nothing settled on any permanent foundation; business men flitted hither and thither wherever they could best obtain accommodations for the time being, and whence people came or whither they went was a matter which no one had time to inquire into, much less to investigate.
The destruction of thousands of business blocks and dwellings left the city without adequate accommodations for offices and residences, even for its own regular population; but when the rush of strangers swelled the aggregate nearly twenty per cent., there seemed hardly sleeping-rooms for them all. Dwelling-houses by thousands were converted into stores, manufactories, and offices, until fabulous prices were offered for the merest closets in the vicinity of the new temporary business centers. Every hotel was thronged from the basement to the Mansard roof, and late arrivals were oftentimes happy if they could get a straw mattress on a billiard-table, or an army cot in a hall.
I call especial attention to these things to account for certain apparent anomalies in the action of different persons connected with this tragedy. For instance: a young gentleman of Mr. Trafton's wealth and respectability would never have rented a mean little room in a petty lodging-house, if he could have found any other place equally convenient to business; the County Physician would not have taken things so much for granted, if he had not been so hard at work and so pressed for time, owing to the immense army of gratuitous patients who thronged the offices of the County Agent and the Relief and Aid Society; the police would not have been so remiss in failing to examine into the death of Mr. Trafton, if they had not had their hands full of other business to an unprecedented extent; and, lastly, when I came to work up the case, I should not have had so much difficulty in finding witnesses, if it had not been that people came and went through Chicago like the waves of the sea in mid-ocean, leaving no trace by which they could be followed or identified.
These circumstances, combined with certain facts which will appear in the course of this narrative, made the task assigned me one of unusual difficulty. Mr. Warner was intrusted with the general management of the case, though he frequently consulted me in relation to it; and, though we were continually working in the dark, we never despaired of our eventual success.
CHAPTER II.
The Detectives at Work.—Mrs. Sanford Described.—Charlie, the Policeman.—Mrs. Sanford develops Interest in Government Bonds.—Chicago Relief and Aid Benefits.—Mrs. Sanford's Story of Trafton's Death.—A nice little Arrangement.—Mrs. Sanford explains to the Detective her method of "Quieting People."—Ingham "Makes a Raise."—Mrs. Sanford fears being Haunted, but is not easily Frightened.
The day after Christmas a tall, well-built man called at No. 92 Madison street, and asked for the lady of the house. Mrs. Sanford soon entered the sitting-room, and the stranger said that, having seen the sign, "Furnished Rooms to Rent," he had called to engage lodgings. He introduced himself as John Ingham, and said that he was a bookkeeper, temporarily out of employment. Mrs. Sanford received him with great cordiality, and seemed much pleased to have him as a lodger. She said that she had no suitable room just then, but that a married couple were about to leave, and then Mr. Ingham could have their room. She then showed him through the house. The two front rooms were occupied by an insurance company, and the back parlor was used as a real estate office and sleeping-room by two brothers, named Pratt. At the head of the stairs was a small bedroom, through which it was necessary to pass to obtain admission to the rear part of the house. The passageway from this bedroom to the sitting-room was made by partitioning off a small entry from the back parlor. There were four doors in this sitting-room: one opened from the entry; at the opposite side was one which opened into another entry; the third was adjoining this second door, and it opened into the large bedroom occupied by the married couple; the fourth door led into Mrs. Sanford's own room. At the end of the back entry was an unfurnished room and a kitchen. The front bedroom was occupied by two young women who worked in a bindery, and their accommodations could hardly have been very agreeable, as every one was obliged to pass through their room on the way to the other rooms in the rear.
Mrs. Sanford was a good-looking woman, about thirty-two years old. Her features were quite pretty, and her expression was pleasing. She was very plump, and her skin was smooth and soft. She had brown hair, a nose slightly retroussé, and a pleasant smile. Her eyes, however, were a bluish gray, cold and watchful as those of a hawk. She might have been called handsome but for the effects of dissipation, which were plainly visible in her face. She had a pleasant voice, and she was naturally easy in her manners. If she was in a good humor, she could be quite fascinating; and almost any stranger, after talking with her for a few minutes, would feel satisfied that she had once occupied a social station far above that in which she was now placed. She had a good education, and very frequently she would give evidences of having had a wide range of really good reading. At times, her recitations and declamations, wholly from memory, were exceptionally fine, and, but for her two ruling passions, she might have been an actress of a high rank.
She had two controlling vices, one natural, the other acquired: her greed for money was inborn, and it seemed to absorb at times every other faculty; while the habit of using morphine had become so fastened upon her, that she could not shake it off. She was a most contradictory medley of compounds, however, and while her thirst for money seemed to overpower all other considerations with her as a general rule, on some occasions she would be as wasteful and careless of expense as the most prodigal woman in the world. But when she had set her mind on the acquisition of any particular money or piece of personal property, there was no length to which she would not go to attain her object. The mere sight of money seemed to act upon her with an effect almost of insanity, and she would then have no regard for consequences until after she had secured the coveted prize.