Mysteries of the missing

by Edward H. Smith

So the second day of the kidnapping mystery opened upon prostrated parents, who were only too willing to believe that their boy had been done away with, an excited community which locked the doors and feared to let its children go to school, and a thoroughly discomfited and abused police department.

The child had been stolen on Monday. Tuesday, the police made a fresh start. For one thing they searched the country round about the big tree on the Troy road, which may have been good training for adipose officers. Otherwise it was an empty gesture, such as police departments always make when the public is aroused. For another thing, they spread the dragnet and hauled in all the tramps and vagrants who chanced to be stopping in Albany. They also searched the known criminal resorts, chased down a crop of the usual rumors, and wound up the day in breathless and futile excitement.

Not so, however, with the newspaper reporters. These energetic young men, whose repeated discomfitures of the police were one of the interesting facts of American city government in the last generation, had gone to work on the Conway case themselves. A young man named John F. Farrell, employed on one of the Albany papers, began his investigations by interviewing the father of the missing child. One of the things the reporter wanted to know was whether any one had ever tried to borrow or to extort money from Conway. The train dispatcher replied with some reluctance that his brother-in-law, Joseph M. Hardy, husband of one of Conway’s older sisters, had repeatedly borrowed small amounts from the railroad man and once made a demand for a thousand dollars, which he failed to get, though he used threatening tactics.

The reporter said nothing, but set about investigating Hardy. He found that the man was in Albany, that he was showing no signs of fright, and that he was indeed going about with much energy, apparently devoting himself to the quest for the stolen boy and threatening dire vengeance upon the kidnappers. Reporter Farrell and his associates took this business under suspicion and investigated Hardy’s connections and financial situation. They found the latter to be precarious. They also discovered that Hardy was the bosom friend of a man named H. G. Blake, who had operated a small furniture store in Albany, but was known to be an itinerant peddler and merchant, a man of no very definite social grade, means of livelihood, or character. In the middle of the afternoon, when this connection was first discovered, Blake could not be found in Albany, but late in the evening he was discovered, and the reporters took him in hand.

At the time they had nothing to go upon except Blake’s firm friendship with Hardy, the relative of the missing child, who had once tried to extort a thousand dollars and presumably knew the money affairs of his brother-in-law. The reporters had only one other detail. In the course of the day they had canvassed all the livery stables in and about Albany. They found that early on Monday morning a man had rented a horse and light wagon at a suburban stable and signed for it. This signature was compared with that of Blake, taken from a hotel register and some tax declarations. The handwriting seemed to be identical, and the reporters suspected that Blake had rented the rig under an assumed name.

While Hardy, Conway’s brother-in-law, was lulled into the belief that he was under no suspicion and allowed to go to his home and to bed, Blake was taken to the newspaper office by the reporters and there asked what he knew about the Conway kidnapping. He denied all knowledge until he was assured that the paper wished to score a “scoop” on the story and was willing to pay $2,500 cash for information that would lead to the recovery of the boy.

A large wallet was shown him, containing a wadding of paper with several bank notes on the outside. Apparently the man was a bit feeble-minded. At any rate, he fell into the trap, abandoning all caution and reaching greedily for the money. He said, of course, that he knew nothing directly about the affair, but that he could find out. Later, when the money was withdrawn from his sight he began to boast of what he could do. Under various incitements and provocations he talked along until it became apparent that he was one of the kidnappers. When it was too late the man realized that he had talked too much, and then he tried to retract. When he attempted to leave the office he was met by two officers who had been quietly summoned by the reporters and appeared disguised as drivers. The wallet was once more held out to Blake, and his greed so far overcame him that he agreed to guide the reporters to the spot where the boy was hidden, hold a conference with his captain, and see that the child was delivered.

The little party, consisting of two reporters, the two disguised officers, and Blake set out late at night and arrived at a place on the Schenectady road, about eight miles from Albany, shortly before midnight. Blake here demanded the cash, but was told that it would not be handed over until he produced the boy. He then said that he thought the purse did not contain the money. A long argument followed. Once more the glib talking of the reporters prevailed, and Blake went into the dense woods, accompanied by one of the officers, ostensibly to find the boy.

After proceeding some distance, Blake told the officer, whom he still believed to be a driver, to remain behind, and proceeded farther into the forest. More than an hour passed before he returned, and the party was about to drive off, thinking the man had played a clever trick. Blake, however, came back querulous and suspicious. He demanded once more to see the money, and being refused, said the trick was up. One of the men, however, persuaded him to take him to the other members of the gang, promising that the money would be delivered the moment the boy was seen alive. Apparently Blake was once more befooled, for he allowed the supposed driver to accompany him and made off again into the heart of the woods. One of the reporters and the other disguised policeman followed secretly.

When the two pairs of men had proceeded about three hundred yards, the second lurking in the van of the first, not daring to strike a light, slashed by the underbrush and in evident danger of being shot down, the smoky light of a camp fire appeared suddenly ahead. In another minute a childish voice could be heard, and the gruff tones of a man trying to silence it. Blake and his companion made for the fire and were met by a masked man with a leveled revolver who informed them that they were surrounded and would be killed if they made a false move. There was a parley, which lasted till the second pair came up.