I managed to get near him, and spoke of the robberies as the most daring outrages, and suggested that there must be a gang of villains—old offenders—secreted near the village somewhere, or else they must, if coming from abroad, perform herculean feats of riding. But he told me he thought my theory was a mistake, as no strange horses or teams had ever been discovered in or near the village on the occasions of robbery; and entered very intelligently into the question, declaring at last that the villains must be caught if he himself were obliged, with others, to lie in wait for a year. There was something a little bombastic in his style as he said this, which confirmed my suspicions of him more and more. He told me he had heard of my attendance upon Mr. Perkins; was glad he had such skilful care, and that he seemed improving; and as he resorted there much himself, had hoped to meet me there, but had not happened to; was glad to have made my acquaintance, etc.; all of which was uttered with a very innocent, and indeed pleasant air, yet I suspected him, somehow, only the more.
Mr. Perkins kept apparently ill, and I visited him regularly. Two nights after my interview with the music teacher, as related above, I was going home from Mr. Perkins's to the hotel. (I should mention that the teacher, whose name in the village was Henry Downs,—but not his true name,—had called at Mr. Perkins's, and left a quarter of an hour before.) Going to the hotel, as I have said, I passed two men standing beside a large tree on the line of the sidewalk. The evening was very dark, and I only saw them when within six feet of them, perhaps, and I heard one of them say, "Ah, ha! the old fool is unsuspicious; we'll get another chance near home. A good night to-night, eh?" The voice was unmistakably that of the teacher, and I inferred that he alluded to Mr. Perkins. "Hush," I heard the other man say, as I approached in passing them; and I saw that the other man had on a "sack-like," such as Mr. Perkins had described. Of course I was now fully confirmed in my suspicions, and devised various plans to trap the villains, but nothing I could think of seemed likely to me or Mr. Perkins to prove practical. At last we hit upon this as a first step. I was to get ill enough to keep my room as Mr. Perkins got well. He was to visit me in turn, and was to consult the committee, who were greatly vexed all the while among themselves (as it appeared afterwards) that that 'rascally New York detective did not come on.' Mr. Perkins was to report me as a man of much wealth, with quite a sum of money, which I had brought intending to speculate, but having looked around, and not being satisfied with any real estate for sale there, was going away as soon as I recovered. This was noised about, and a week or so passed before I got up and was ready to go. Mr. Perkins, in the mean while, had come to my opinion that the music teacher was indeed the villain, and believing it his duty to expose him rather than shield him on his niece's account, entered quite spiritedly into my plans.
The music teacher was more attentive to me than ever when I met him, after it was said that I was rich; and at a little party which Mr. Perkins gave me the night before I was to leave, the teacher was all attention to me. It was given out that I should leave the next night, on the way north of the village, to call on a relative living about twenty miles from that village. I must be there, it was said, that night, to meet my friend from whom I had had a letter, and who would leave by the stage the next morning after; and for the next day Mr. Perkins and I had a ride of twenty miles and back to take in another direction to look at some mills in which he was persuading me to take an interest. Mr. Perkins was to loan me his horse for the night trip.
The ladies present said, some of them, that they hoped Dr. Hudson would not think of going in the night. "Just think of the robbers." I replied that robbers never touched doctors; that doctors never had any money about them; that they would not take my pills, I presumed, if I were to prescribe them regularly; and so we joked over the matter.
The next day Mr. Perkins and I, having ridden out of town, returned after dark, and after a good supper at his house, I paid my bills at the hotel, took his horse and sallied forth on my "night visit." I had not ridden over three miles, and was passing along a dark avenue lined with trees, when suddenly two men appeared before me, each grasping at a rein, and one presenting a pistol as near my head as he could reach, exclaimed, in a husky voice,—
"No noise, you old villain! Dismount!"
"Stop, stop!" said I, in a low voice. "Have mercy! What do you want of me?"
"Nothing of you—but your money," answered the husky voice. "Get off your horse quick, or I'll blow your brains out."
"I will, I will!" I whispered, with a voice that intimated trepidation, "but my leg is a little lame. Give me your hand to help," and extended my left hand, which he took in his left, still holding the pistol in his right. He had to extend his left hand quite high to help me, and I could not only feel, but see the scarred, hard hand—the same which Mr. Perkins had felt, and a like of which deformed the otherwise handsome music teacher. Of course his face, as well as his comrade's in crime, was muffled.
Having dismounted, they insisted on my giving them all my money. I consented without resistance, and pulled out my wallet, and handed him fifteen dollars—a ten dollar and a five dollar bill.