Just then I heard a faint click, and summoning courage to look into the drawing-room, what was my unutterable relief to find the room empty. The wretch had vanished. To tell the truth, at that juncture I came about as near verifying the doctor’s prediction in regard to hysterics as I ever did in my life.
Now for the sequel. This afternoon I received the following note, which I inclose for your benefit.
Miss Brewster.
Madam,—John I. Carrigain, alias Court Peperino, alias Dr. Kametski, alias Manuel Altiova, aged thirty-four years and seven months, was born in Manchester, England, of an English father and Portuguese mother, received a good education, was arrested for forgery at the age of nineteen, served out a sentence of five years, and on release was sent to New York by a charitable agency. He was suspected of being accessory to one of the largest swindling operations ever undertaken in New York city, but as nothing could be proved, he was released from custody and began operations in Chicago, obtaining money under various false pretences. At first he met with great success, but was finally convicted and sentenced to six years in the state prison. He was released from Joliet six months ago, but, until your communication last night, had not been known to be in New York. A person answering his description was seen to take the northern express last evening with a ticket for some point in Canada. The man is a clever forger, and it would require an expert to detect his work. It has been ascertained that Carrigain was assistant clerk for Mr. Dunreath for a few months seven years ago, which accounts for some of his information regarding the habits of that gentleman; and as for the handwriting and the South American details, he is quite clever enough to have worked those carefully up in the last few weeks.
It is needless to say that his career will henceforth be closely watched.
Yours respectfully,
J. Allison,
Pinkerton Detective.
By the way, Alice, I am having my portrait painted, full-length, in a blue velvet tea gown. I give a sitting every other afternoon, and on alternate days visit tenement houses, industrial schools, and Castle Garden. I saw two thousand filthy Italians of the lowest kind land yesterday.
I have just come home from a tour through the Mulberry Bend where these creatures herd together. I felt as if I were in Naples again. I thought some parts of Boston were bad enough, but I never saw anything on this side of the water equal to the horrible squalor and loathsomeness of these places.