Two Wonderful Detectives: or, Jack and Gil's Marvelous Skill

"There is some one in the adjoining room."

"Not to my knowledge."

"I heard a footstep."

"You only imagine so; no one would dare enter that room without my permission."

"You are sure?"

"I am."

"Just ask anyone to step forth who may be in that room."

Mr. Townsend had become very nervous; the detective's manner was so strange and peculiar.

"What do you mean, sir? I tell you there is no one in that room."

"I tell you, sir, I heard a footstep in that room."

"You only imagine so."

"I know I did."

"Very well, we will see," and Mr. Townsend called out:

"If there is any one in the next room let him come forth."

Immediately a man stepped forth – a strange, weird-looking man – in old clothes, high boots with red Jersey mud on them, and a broad-brimmed slouch hat. As the figure stepped forth Mr. Townsend leaped from his chair with a wild cry and glared with bulging eyes – glared like one fearing a figure from the grave – and indeed, to all appearances it was veritably a figure from the grave; and during this almost tragic and really dramatic and startling scene Jack Alvarez, the detective, sat cool and unperturbed, and finally remarked:

"I knew there was some one in that room, Mr. Townsend. Who is this man?"

Mr. Townsend was indeed a strong-nerved man, and after a moment he recovered from the first shock of surprise and said:

"It is the dead come to accuse me for my negligence."

"The dead come to accuse you for negligence?"

"Yes."

"I do not understand."

"Mr. Alvarez, there stands the man who can name the owner of the fortune which I have held in trust for forty years – yes, there stands the man who confided the great fortune to my keeping."

"You recognize the man?"

"I do."

"Then question him."

Mr. Townsend, in a singularly firm voice, considering the circumstances, said:

"My good friend, you must forgive me. I lost your letter, but I have held the trust sacred, and I am prepared to surrender it to you with accumulated interest; but tell me why did you wait all these years and not come and claim the money?"

In a perfectly natural voice the strange "appearance" said:

"I left a letter with you."

"It is true; I tell you I lost the letter, but now I will gladly surrender the fortune."

"Then you recognize me?"

"I do."

"Beyond all question?"

"Yes, beyond all question."

"I will not have to prove my identity?"

"You will not."

"Remember, forty years have elapsed."

"I would recognize you if a thousand years had elapsed. You appear to me to-day just as you looked forty years ago. I was a young man then; I have grown old, but you do not appear to have aged at all."

"And you are prepared to surrender the fortune?"

"I am."

"I only have to say, sir, that I can prove how easy it is for a man to be deceived."

With the above words, Gil Alvarez cast aside his disguise and stood revealed, presenting his wonderful resemblance to his twin brother.

Mr. Townsend recoiled in greater amazement than he did while under the first belief that he had been confronted by a visitant from the grave. A few seconds he gazed and then said:

"Wait."

He stepped to a sideboard, drank a glass of brandy, and then resuming his former seat, said in a perfectly cool tone:

"This is a very remarkable piece of acting, Mr. Alvarez. Who is this person?"

"My twin brother and my aid."

"And what does this all mean?"

"It is a test of identification."

"You are a wonderful man."

"I am?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"In being able from memory and imagination to create such a wonderful resemblance. You have the clothes and appearance of the man who visited me counterfeited to perfection. How you could have had those clothes made is a mystery to me; I am dumfounded. No wonder you asked me if I was sound of heart; otherwise you would have killed me."

"And the counterfeit was perfect?"

"Yes."

"The identification would have been perfect?"

"Yes."

"Well, sir, I have a remarkable disclosure to make."

"I cannot be more surprised than I have been. I tell you your dummy is perfect."

"Then permit me to inform you that the apparition was not all acting. Those are the clothes worn by the man on the day he visited you and deposited the fortune with you – yes, sir, the very clothes the strange man wore on that occasion."

"Then, sir, I will admit that you have a wonderful disclosure to make."

"Yes, sir, I have."

CHAPTER VI

ON A NEW "LAY" – DOWN IN MONMOUTH COUNTY – AN APPARENT DEFEAT – A SINGULAR CLUE – TWO COINCIDENT DATES – OLD BERWICK – STRIKING SUGGESTIONS – ONCE AGAIN A CHANCE

After what had occurred Mr. Townsend was prepared for anything. He had regained his self-possession. He was a brave, nervy old gentleman; his bravery was like that which always attends honesty.

"Please do not keep me in suspense."

"I have said those are the clothes worn by the strange man who visited you forty years ago?"

"Yes."

"And you have not seen or heard from him since?"

"I have not."

"It is not strange."

"You can explain why?"

"I can."

"Within three hours after his visit to you he was a dead man."

"A dead man?"

"Yes."

"Did he commit suicide?"

"It is possible he did, not probable."

"Explain."

Our hero proceeded and told all the thrilling incidents of his phenomenal "shadow," and proceeding said:

"I have proved the identity of the man now beyond all question."

"You have; but what was his name?"

"That I have not learned; I will in time; but I have learned one fact: he came from Monmouth County, New Jersey. That is what he was trying to say when his heart ceased its throbbings. It is not strange that Mr. Douglas thought he was striving to say Mon Dieu; I know he was striving to tell where he resided, and death stealing rapidly over him would not permit the completion of the sentence."

"I see I employed the right man."

"I trust so."

"I am confident the mystery will be solved."

"Yes, the mystery will certainly be solved. It may take a long time, but now I have something to work on."

"Yes, and you started without a single clue."

"I did."

Mr. Townsend meditated a few moments and then said:

"It is evident to me that you will succeed in solving this mystery; and now let me tell you, your reward shall be the largest a detective ever received. I will pay the reward out of my own pocket as an atonement for my negligence."

The detective held a long consultation with Mr. Townsend and then returned to his home, and there after his brother had removed the dead man's clothes Jack commenced a thorough search of the clothing, despite the fact that several people had done so before him. He went to work in a scientific manner and spent hours over the investigation, and when he had finished he said:

"I am not altogether satisfied, and yet it does appear as though the old man had nothing on his person at the time he was killed, or some one went through his clothing and secured whatever might have been in them, and if that is so those papers are in existence somewhere. The thief must have them, and some day I will find that man or his heirs. I have succeeded thus far, I will succeed to the end."

Jack had made up his mind that the old man had visited New York from Monmouth County, and he adopted a very cunningly devised scheme. On the day following the incidents we have related Jack made his brother up in the dead man's clothes and took a photograph. He constructed his dummy according to the various descriptions he had received, and having the man's clothes, and by other ingenious arrangements, he secured a very remarkable reproduction, and remarked:

"I believe if I can meet any living man who knew the depositor of the fortune, I shall gain a living clue."

Taking his photograph with him our hero went down to Monmouth County, New Jersey. Jack spent six days and made about as thorough a "shadow" as man could make, but met with no success whatever; he failed in securing the slightest clue. He showed the portrait he had to many old men, but none of them could recall ever having seen the original, and one night the detective sat in his room at a little tavern where he was lodging, and he felt quite depressed. He had made such a good start, he had calculated to go right ahead and secure all the facts, and here he had spent five days, working away into the night – indeed, he had devoted eighteen hours out of the twenty-four – and had been completely baffled. It was still comparatively early in the evening when he went down into the barroom, and he was sitting there watching a game of high, low, jack being played by some old fishermen. It was a pretty rough sort of night. The wind howled without and made the shutters and casements of the old building rattle, and finally an old man who was sitting there remarked:

"It's a pretty rough sort of night; I hope all the boys who were on the water got in safe before this southeaster came sweeping over the waters."

"Oh, yes, I reckon all the fishermen got in all right."

The place where our hero was located at the time was a little fishing village on the coast, and another man remarked:

"It ain't often the boys are caught in a gale like this; they know what's coming pretty well."

"Yes, yes, as a rule, but sometimes a mishap will overtake a man when there is neither wind nor high seas. I often cogitate over what accident must have befallen Jacob Canfield. He left the shore one morning when it was as mild and fair as the brightest June day that ever dawned, and it was pleasant and calm all day. The sun went down as serenely as it rose, and not a ripple was on the sea – yes, it was a mild, lovely October day, from sunrise to sunset. Jake was seen to go out in his boat, but neither Jake nor the boat was ever seen afterward. I tell you I've never made up my mind as to what happened him."

"I've heard about that," said one of the men; "it happened a long time ago."

"Yes, it happened forty years ago. I don't just remember the date when he disappeared, but it was somewhere in the middle of October, and as I said, as fair and mild a day as though it were the middle of June, but Jake was never seen alive afterward."

Jack was all ears and attention. Here were two suggestive incidents: a man named Jake Canfield had disappeared forty years previously on a beautiful October day and had never been seen since, and it was in October when an unknown man from Monmouth County was killed on the railroad. Jack made no demonstration; he was perfectly cool, but when an opportunity presented he made some inquiries about the old man who had told of the mysterious disappearance of Jake Canfield. He learned that the old man's name was Berwick, that he had been born a few miles away on a farm in the interior. He had been a fisherman all his life and knew about every one that lived in the vicinity, or who had lived around there during fifty years.

Jack betrayed no outward excitement, but inwardly he was greatly excited. The incidents did not agree altogether, but the detective had only heard the outlines of the tragedy. He believed he might mold the facts down so as to fit the proofs he was seeking. He learned that old Berwick lived only a few hundred yards away from the tavern, and was a pretty smart old man, also well-to-do, and also that he spent most of his time at the tavern, being too old to perform any sort of labor.

It did appear to our hero that at last his patient and careful investigation was about to be rewarded. He did not speak to the old man that night concerning the tragedy or the mystery of Jake Canfield's disappearance, but he made the old man's acquaintance and engaged him in conversation on several subjects, treated him to several glasses of hot punch, and indeed became quite well acquainted with the old fisherman. Jack did not wish in any way to convey the idea that he had any interest in Jake Canfield, but when he returned to his little room and lay down that night he lay awake a long time, his brain busy in turning over the many possibilities. Two facts were assured, and these two facts were very suggestive. Old Canfield had disappeared forty years previously; he had gone away one bright October day; he had lived in Monmouth County, and had never been seen since the day he went away on the waters off shore – that is, so the statements of Berwick indicated.

On the following morning our hero was out bright and early. He knew the habits of country people pretty well, and in the case in point his conclusions were justified. He saw old Berwick going down toward the beach. Jack followed the old man and joined him on the great spread of sand.

"Good-morning," said Jack.

"Good-morning," came the response, and then as the old man glanced up there came a smile to his face, and he said:

"Why, let me see, ain't you the chap I met up at the tavern last night?"

"I'm the man."

"Well, you must excuse me; you see, my sight is not as good as it was forty years ago. I'm right glad to see you, but I say, you are out early. I reckon you're a city chap, and city people, as a rule, don't often see the sun rise."

"I am an early riser."

"Is that so? Well, I am out a little earlier than usual myself this morning, for I love to come down to the beach and catch the early morning breeze off the ocean; and to tell the truth, I felt a little rusty after that hot punch I drank last night. I ain't much of a drinker, but once in awhile I like a little hot stuff on a chilly night. No, I ain't much of a drinker; when I was a young man I did not touch it at all, and maybe that's how I've lived to such a great age – yes, I am eighty-two years old, and I feel pretty brisk considering that I've led a hard-working life."

"You are a wonderfully well-preserved old man. I should not have taken you to be over seventy."

"Well, I am – yes, I am eighty-two just, and I feel pretty hearty yet."

"You've lived around here all your life?"

"Yes, I have."

"You remember a great many wrecks on this coast?"

"Do I? well, sir, my memory is just stored with sad scenes that I've witnessed."

"You were speaking last night about a man named Jake Canfield."

"Yes, I was; Jake was a fine man, but he had hard luck – yes, he did."

"I was quite interested in that story you told about him."

"I didn't tell no great story; I merely told how he had gone out in his boat, and how neither he nor his boat was ever seen again."

"You said you did not believe he was dead."

"Well, I never did believe he was drowned. Of course he is dead now, for he was twenty years older than me, but he had hard luck."

"Things went against him?"

"Not in one way; Jake was a very successful man as a fisherman, and he had money in the bank when he died, but he was very unlucky for all that."

"Will you tell me how he was unlucky?"

"You appear to be interested."

"I am."

"You are?"

"Yes."

"How so?"

"Well, I've nothing else to do, and it's very monotonous down here, and I am interested in old sea stories."

"Is that all?"

"Yes."

"I could tell you hundreds of them."

"I am going to get you to do so, but first tell me all about old Jake Canfield."

CHAPTER VII

OLD BERWICK'S RECOLLECTIONS – A GOOD REASON FOR A STRANGE DEPOSIT – A GIRL IN THE CASE – EXTRAORDINARY DETECTIVE RESULTS – A NEW "SHADOW" – GREAT POSSIBILITIES – SURE TO WIN

"Well, there ain't much to tell. Jake went off in his boat one morning before daylight; he was seen to go off, and that was the last ever seen of him around here, but I've my idea. They say he was drowned, that he was run over by a steamer and went to the bottom, boat and all, but I tell you Jake was too good a sailor to be run down by a big steamer on a clear day. No, no, I never took any stock in that theory, but I never said anything because I rather honored Jake for letting it appear that he was drowned, and thus he saved all the trouble."

"You have alluded several times to some trouble that Jake had."

"Yes, he had a heap of trouble – yes, sir, a heap of trouble."

"How?"

"Jake was a quiet, inoffensive man, neither a fool nor a coward. No, sir, he saved many a man's life in his time at the risk of his own, but he was a man who did not like strife – a very quiet, inoffensive man, but he was no fool, and he knew just what he was about all the time, and don't you forget it. No, sir, he was only averse to war."

"But you do not tell me what his troubles really were."

"Oh, lots of men have the same troubles the world over, and it serves them right – yes, it does; but Jake was no fool, he knew what he was about, and don't you forget it."

The old man managed to avoid telling exactly what old Jake's troubles really were until Jack said:

"I reckon I know now what you mean."

"About what?"

"About Jake Canfield's troubles."

"What do you mean?"

"He had trouble with his family."

"You'll have to guess again."

"I will?"

"Yes."

"Then I give it up."

"You were only part right."

"Oh, I was partly right?"

"Yes."

"Then set me fully right."

"Why should I, sir?"

"Because you have aroused my curiosity."

The old man appeared to enjoy the situation, and at length he said:

"See here, stranger, maybe you know as much about those troubles as I do."

"I don't."

"You don't?"

"I do not."

"And you are not down here picking up facts for Jake's granddaughter?"

Jack had hard work to keep himself from leaping backward in his excitement, for here in a most unexpected manner he had gained a link of evidence that was the most startling and suggestive of any he had yet unearthed.

"I swear I am not trying to gain information for any evil purpose; I am just gratifying my curiosity. Why, man, don't you know I could go and find out all I wanted to about Jake Canfield if I had any deep purpose?"

"That is so, but you see, I've been expecting that some day there would be inquiries down here, for no one ever found out what Jake did with his granddaughter. Her disappearance was about as mysterious as that of Jake himself, and between you and me, Jake put his granddaughter away and then joined her, that's all, and gave out that he was dead, or rather made it appear that he was drowned; but I never took any stock in the drowning story. I believe Jake lived a good many years, for he was a very strong, healthy man. He may even be alive yet – yes, I've known of people living to be a hundred, and really Jake was not as old as he looked. Trouble made him look older than he was, and he had led a hard-working life. I don't believe he was much over fifty but he looked like a man over sixty; but he wasn't drowned on that October day forty years ago, I'll swear to that."

Jack adopted new tactics. He saw that the old man Berwick was a peculiar character, and he concluded not to show any more interest in the Canfield mystery, and commenced to talk about something else; but Berwick's mind had got started on the Canfield mystery, and it was a subject he often brought up, as Jack later learned. The old man, seeing that our hero did not ask any more questions, said:

"I'll tell you about Jake's troubles."

Jack made no reply, and old Berwick continued:

"You see, Jake in early life married a very nice girl, the daughter of a clergyman. She died, leaving one child, a son, and this son lived and married and had a daughter, Jake's granddaughter, and this granddaughter was only about five years old when her father, Jake's son, was drowned. In the meantime, Jake married a woman, a widow with several children. This second Mrs. Canfield was a she-devil, one of the worst women I ever met in all my life, and her children were imps. You see, Jake had a little money, and they were down on his little granddaughter from the start, and here was where Jake's real troubles first commenced. He was true to his little granddaughter, and it was said that his will was in her favor. Well, this just made Jake's life a living misery, and one day the granddaughter disappeared. Every one knew Jake had taken her away because he feared his wife and her sons; the latter were rowdies, born criminals, that's true. Jake would never tell what he had done with his granddaughter, as I said, and the war commenced. His family just tortured him almost into his grave, and so one morning Jake went out in his boat and he, too, disappeared, and then the family set up a claim against his money and property, and as the granddaughter could not be found, by ginger! they got it – yes, they produced some sort of will – a forgery I'll swear – but according to the will Mrs. Canfield number two was to have the money, and was to take care of the granddaughter. Yes, they got the money after a few years in the courts, and they all disappeared. I always wondered Jake did not come forward and claim his money and beat them, but I reckon he was glad to get rid of them even at the sacrifice of his fortune, and between you and me, it was whispered sometimes that Jake had money deposited in New York, that no one but himself knew anything about. At any rate, he never showed up and his widow, so-called, got the money. She sold the house and land, got the money from the bank, and disappeared, and that was the last we ever saw or heard of them around here. Of course there were all sorts of stories."

"About what?"

"Jake."

"What was the character of the stories?"

"Well, they do say that the stepsons murdered him. Yes, one story was that Jake never went out in the boat, but a dummy went out in his clothes, one of the sons. Another story was that the son went out over night, laid for Jake on the sea, knowing his habits, and murdered him out on the water and sunk his boat and body, but I never took any stock in those wild tales. No, sir, Jake was not murdered, he just 'sloped' to get away from his devilish second-hand relatives. I never blamed him; no, sir, I never did."

Jack was the most delighted man that ever started out to "shadow" a mystery. He had indeed started without a single clue, and he had made out a most wonderful case. He had traced and traced step by step, and was satisfied that Jake Canfield was the strange man who had deposited the money with Mr. Townsend, and what was far more important, he had established a motive for the singular deposit, and this, as intimated, was the most important of all his discoveries. The adventure of Mr. Townsend had been a very remarkable one; it was an incident that only the facts could explain, for no one could ever have imagined a series of incidents to account for so remarkable a proceeding. Jack felt that he could claim without dispute that his success thus far had been a remarkable detective feat – one of the most remarkable on record – but he was not through. He had several important links to supply, several incidents to explain. Of one fact our hero was assured: Jake Canfield had not been murdered, but he had indeed taken steps to guard against his second-hand family, as old Berwick called them, securing an estate which in some mysterious manner had come into Jake Canfield's possession. The detective had made great progress, but he had further to go. There was more light, however, shining on his way; he had something tangible and clear to work upon.

Jack held a prolonged talk with Berwick, drawing out many little facts and incidents which it is not material to our narrative to record, and in good time he returned to the city of New York, and one night appeared at the elegant home of Mr. Townsend. He had given the old banker warning of his visit, and Mr. Townsend was prepared to receive him, and again saluted him with the appellation:

"Well, wonderful man, what have you to record now?"

"I have an announcement to make."

"Of that I am sure."

"Yes, sir, I can safely say now the chances are that you will be compelled to surrender the fortune."

"Great Scott! young man, what is that you say?"

"You will be compelled to surrender the fortune."

"Never," came the declaration.

"Aha! then all your zeal was a 'fake?'"

"No."

"What then?"

"It will never be necessary to compel me to surrender the fortune; I will be only too glad to do so – yes, delighted to do so in case the real heir can be found; but what have you discovered?"