IN AN UGLY MOOD WITH MYSELF—A VISIT FROM A CINCINNATIAN—A LOSS DETAILED—THE FATE OF A BANKING-HOUSE RESTING ON "COLLATERALS" STOLEN, WHICH MUST BE RECOVERED—A LAWYER FIGURES IN THE MATTER AND IS BAFFLED—THE THIEVES SPECULATING FOR A SETTLEMENT—THE SCHEME LAID FOR THEIR DETECTION—A BUSINESS VISIT TO THE BANKING-HOUSE—THE CHIEF CLERK SENT TO CHICAGO ON BUSINESS—A SEARCH REVEALING LOVE LETTERS, AND A LOVELY LITERARY LADY—ON TRACK OF MYSTERIOUS "PAPERS"—THE FATAL SLIP OF PAPER—THE WAY THE STOLEN BONDS WERE RECOVERED—THE CHIEF CLERK, AND HOW HE WAS "ENLIGHTENED"—A NOVEL AND QUIET ARREST IN A CARRIAGE—THE CLERK'S CONFEDERATE CAUGHT—THE PROPERTY RESTORED—THE SCAMPS DECAMP—THE INNOCENT LITERARY LADY'S EYES OPENED.
I was sitting in my office one day, meditating over a case I had had in hand to work up, for some four months, off and on. An hour before one of the parties interested in the matter, and who had furnished considerable money to press the investigation of the affair had left my office in a state of dissatisfaction, evident enough to me, although his interest compelled him to express in words his pleasure at the course I had taken, and his hope that my theory of the case would soon be worked into practical demonstration. But I fancied, nevertheless, that he had secretly resolved to abandon the matter, or to abandon me, and procure some one else to undertake the job; and I was conjuring in my mind who this might be, whom he would secure to aid him; and resolving myself into a happy state of mind that this point, namely, that he could find nobody who could or would for the like slight encouragement I had had, undertake the affair, and into a somewhat unhappy state of mind on this other point, namely, that I had been induced to enter upon the work upon too slight amount of facts, and accusing myself of stupidity in so doing, I had resolved that I would never undertake a like case, involving so much work, with such little probability of success, for there are some things which may baffle the oldest detective's skill as surely as the simplest peasant's brain. I was in an ugly mood with myself, when there entered my office an excited looking man, who accosted me—"You are Mr. ——?"
"Yes, sir."
"The very man that worked up that case for Coe and Phillips, two years ago?"
"Yes, sir; I suppose I am the man," said I, emphasizing the article "the;" "but what of it, what if I did?" said I, in a mood which I was conscious was not very attractive, and with a look, I suppose, not over-enticing, for the man "hitched" unpleasantly in his chair, and seemed confused. "What of it? Why do you ask?"
He still looked disconcerted, but taking from his pocket a file of papers, carefully thumbed them over, and drew out from them a letter of introduction to me from Mr. Coe, in which Mr. Coe said that his friend had an affair on hand in which he thought I could serve him, and he had commended me to his friend.
"Ah, you are a friend of Mr. Coe? Well, I see this note is dated over a month ago. Why have you delayed to bring it to me before?"
"O, I'll explain. I live in Cincinnati, and was here on business at the time, stopping at Mr. Coe's. I told him my story, got this note from him, and intended to see you in a day or two; but a telegram called me home,"—(or "telegraph message," as he said, for this was before the days when some happy genius coined the felicitous word "telegram"), "and I have come again on business, and so have brought the note."
"Is it in Cincinnati that I must work, if I enter upon the matter you may have to relate to me?"