The Somnambulist and the Detective Part 23

The whole affair was now gradually drawing to a focus, and I felt confident of a successful termination. I therefore instructed Mrs. Warne to describe me to Mrs. Thayer, and to say that I was watching her movements constantly.

About nine o'clock that morning Mrs. Thayer went out as usual with Miss Seaton, and they proceeded straight to Lucille's rooms. They were the first arrivals, and Mrs. Thayer was admitted to Lucille's presence at once; but Miss Seaton immediately went back to her boarding-house, as I wished to have Mrs. Thayer return home alone. Mrs. Thayer was in a more impressionable state than ever before. The day was dark and lowering, showing every sign of an approaching storm; outside there had been the noisy bustle of active business life, while within the limits of Lucille's mystic chamber all was hushed in a deathly silence. The monotonous swinging of the lamps, the perfume-laden air, the ghastly skeletons, and the imperious bearing and powerful will of Lucille--all struck upon her imagination with resistless force. As she sank into the seat which Lucille pointed out, she felt like a criminal entering the prisoner's dock for trial. She felt that she must relieve herself from her load of guilt or she would forever suffer the torments of remorse.

"Well, my child," said Lucille, in her most solemn tones, "to-day you have come to learn all, and I trust that you have nerved yourself to sustain the revelations which I have to make. I have been through many difficulties and terrible dangers since I last saw you, and a very sad story has been laid before me. Your situation is one of great peril, and upon your own decision this day will rest your hopes of happiness hereafter. Still, you must not be cast down; if you will only resolve to do what is right, your sorrows will gradually pa.s.s away, while health and happiness will steadily return to you. Your worst crime was the destruction of your unborn child, for that was a sin against nature herself; but true repentance will save you from the effects of that sin, further than you have already suffered."

This was the first time Lucille had mentioned the fact that she knew of the abortion; yet it seemed perfectly natural to Mrs. Thayer that Lucille should know it; hence, beyond turning very pale at the memory of her suffering, she did not manifest any special emotion on hearing Lucille's words.

The sibyl continued speaking as she gazed, first at Mrs. Thayer's hand, and then at the chart:

"This man, whom you so wrongly love, does not return you the affection of a true husband; he loves you only for selfish, sensual purposes; he will fondle you as a plaything for a few years, and then he will cast you off for a younger and more handsome rival, even as he has already put away his first wife for your sake. If you do not give him up now, some day he will throw you aside or trample you under foot. Think you he will fear to do in the future what he has done in the past? When he wearies of you, have you any doubt that he will murder you _as he has already murdered his wife_?"

Lucille had spoken in a rapid, sibilant whisper, leaning forward so as to bring her eyes directly before Mrs. Thayer's face, and the effect was electrical. Mrs. Thayer struggled for a moment, as if she would rise, and then fell back and burst into tears. This was a fortunate relief, since she would have fainted if she had not obtained some mode of escape for her pent-up feelings. Seeing that there was no further danger of overpowering Mrs. Thayer, as long as she was able to cry, Lucille continued:

"Yes, the heartless villain murdered his wife by poisoning her. I can see it all as it occurred; it is a dreadful scene, yet I know that it must be true--a woman of middle age is lying in bed; she has evidently been very handsome, but now she shows signs of a long illness; your lover, her husband, enters, and he wishes to give her some medicine; but see, she motions him away, though she is unable to speak; she must know that he is going to poison her; yet she cannot help herself, and the nurse does not suspect his design. Now he has given her the poison, and she is writhing in an agony of pain. He professes to be much afflicted, and, oh, heavens! with the treachery of Judas, he attempts to kiss her!

Now it is all over; with one last, reproachful look, she has pa.s.sed to that land where 'the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.' She is dead, _and her husband is her murderer_."

"Oh! for G.o.d's sake, spare me, spare me!" exclaimed Mrs. Thayer, between her sobs. "I cannot listen to the description of such a death-bed scene without horror. I know I have been very guilty, but I shall try to make amends in the future. Have pity on me, I beg of you, and do not overwhelm me with such terrible scenes."

"You must hear all," said Lucille, firmly. "There are two more acts in this tragedy to which you must listen; the first is a weird scene in a church-yard by night, and the clear starlight only half reveals the actors; there are three men engaged in digging at this woman's grave; yes, even in death, her body cannot rest in peace. Near by lies the corpse of another woman, whose cold, white face is turned up mutely to the silent stars; now the men reach the coffin and try to drag it from the grave. What is their object? Ah! I see! they wish to subst.i.tute one corpse for the other, so that the poison will never be discovered in case of an inquest upon the body of the murdered woman. Suddenly three other men rush upon the grave-diggers before they have been able to pull the coffin from the grave; a chase ensues, and pistol-shots are fired; but finally the resurrectionists escape, though they have been foiled in their purpose. The last scene is the inquest: the coffin is brought in, but the murderer dare not look upon the face of his victim; a sham investigation is held, and he is cleared by the verdict of the jury; but other watchful eyes have been regarding the proceedings; keen detectives have been at work, and they now step in, unknown to the public, and take quiet possession of the corpse; the stomach is removed for a.n.a.lysis, and a chemist of great reputation takes charge of it; poison has been found; positive proof of your lover's guilt have been obtained, and he will suffer the penalty of his crime. You also are in danger, but if you tell the truth, you will be saved."

As Lucille impetuously placed before Mrs. Thayer the occurrences which my investigations had disclosed, it seemed to the latter as if she were the victim of a horrible nightmare. She felt that she was surrounded by unseen foes, who were gradually tightening the toils in which she and Pattmore had become entangled. She was neither brave nor self-sacrificing; she had a sensitive dread of exposure, trial, and punishment, which was aggravated by a knowledge of guilt and an uncertainty as to the extent to which she had become legally liable; also, she had none of the spirit of devoted affection which sometimes prompts a woman to bear the greatest hardships for the sake of the man she loves; hence, she was ready to do anything to save herself, even at the expense of Pattmore's life. As Lucille concluded her terrible recital, Mrs. Thayer shrieked in an agony of remorse and fear:

"Oh, have mercy on me! I am lost! I am lost! Tell me what I can do to escape punishment; I will obey you wholly--I will do anything you tell me. Oh, save me, save me! I know you can if you will."

It was some time before Lucille could restore her to a quiet state of mind, but at length her sobs ceased and Lucille continued:

"The worst is now past, and if you will return to your brother and confess all, he will forgive you. When you are called upon to tell what you know about this wicked man, you must do so without reserve. You will never see him again except in prison. If you do as your brother wishes, you will regain your light heart and sweet disposition; your real husband will come back to you, and your future will be one of happiness."

Mrs. Thayer sat motionless, with her face buried in her shawl; occasionally a long, choking sob would make her whole frame quiver, but otherwise she gave hardly a sign of life.

"Let me see your face," commanded Lucille.

As Mrs. Thayer slowly raised her tear-stained countenance, Lucille gazed intently into her eyes, and again examined the lines of her hand; then she went on speaking:

"There is another man near you, whose presence you do not suspect; neither have you ever seen him; but he is watching you all the time. You will soon meet him, for he wishes to talk with you. He is only of medium height, but he is very well built and powerful; he has a full face, ruddy complexion, brown hair, and gray eyes; he wears full whiskers all around his face, and his expression is kindly but resolute. He is a very determined man, and when he tries to do anything he never gives up until he has accomplished his object. He has great power, and if you follow his counsel he can save you from harm; but you must trust him fully and tell him the whole truth, for he can instantly detect any falsehood or evasion, and he will be very dangerous to you if you try to deceive him. This is all I have to tell you at present, my child; I wish you well, but I cannot devote more time to you. I hope you will give heed to what I have told you, and that you will decide to follow the right path. There are many now awaiting an audience with me, and I must hasten to admit them, since I cannot tarry long in one city. I have been here now some time, and I must soon journey on; the waste places of the far West call to me--yea, even the deserts of the barren hills. I must plunge into solitude for a time, to commune with Nature."

Then, raising her arms, Lucille placed both hands lightly on Mrs.

Thayer's head and said, solemnly:

"May the Spirit of Eternal Truth go with thee, my child, to guide thee forevermore! Farewell."

When Mrs. Thayer looked up, after a few minutes of silence, Lucille had disappeared, having slipped into the room where I and my stenographer were listening. Seeing that the fortune-teller had dismissed her, Mrs.

Thayer drew down her heavy veil and left the room. One of my men was stationed at the front door to watch her movements, so that when I joined him, after a few minutes hurried talk with Lucille, he pointed out to me the direction she had taken. I hastened down the street until I caught sight of her; then, seeing that she was on her way back to her boarding-house, I decided not to speak to her just then. The street was quite crowded, and I preferred not to risk having a scene in the presence of so many spectators. Therefore I walked at a safe distance behind her until she was across the bridge; but, on reaching a quiet neighborhood, I overtook her and said:

"Mrs. Thayer, I believe?"

It must be remembered that she had no acquaintances in Chicago except her fellow-boarders; hence my recognition of her would have startled her, even had she never been told to expect me. But, as it was, my appearance gave her a great shock, since she was at that moment revolving in her mind the information given her by Lucille. Therefore, when she was addressed by a stranger, whom she at once recognized as the man about whom Lucille had given her a forewarning, she was struck almost speechless with fear. She could only e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.e:

"Oh! G.o.d help me! that man has come!"

I saw she was nearly ready to faint, so I took her arm and said:

"Mrs. Thayer, I wish you to accompany me to my office."

She was so weak that I supported her a short distance until one of my men, who had remained within call, could bring a hack. I then helped Mrs. Thayer into the carriage and told the driver to proceed at once to my office. Mrs. Thayer said nothing, and showed no objection to my wishes; but she was greatly alarmed, and she could not take her eyes off my face. She had a sort of helpless, questioning look, which I was glad to see, since it was evidence that she was now wholly under my control.

When the carriage stopped, I a.s.sisted her to walk up stairs into my private office, where my stenographer had already taken a position to hear without being seen. I gave her a comfortable chair, and handed her a gla.s.s of water, for I saw that she was very faint. As soon as her color began to show that she had revived I said:

"Mrs. Thayer, you perceive that I am well acquainted with you. I am sorry that you are in trouble, and I wish to be your friend, if you will allow me to be so; all I ask is that you tell me the whole truth about all your difficulties."

"Are you really my friend?" she asked, in a trembling voice; "can I rely upon what you say, and be sure that you will not take advantage of me?

Oh, sir, my heart seems ready to break, and I know not what to think. I am a poor, weak woman, completely in your power."

"You need have no fear of me," I replied, "I know nearly everything relative to your troubles, but I wish you to tell me all the facts; then I shall know precisely what to do to help you. It is possible to raise a criminal charge against you, but it is my desire to prevent that; therefore, you must tell me everything, without any reservation whatever."

"Who are you?" she asked, after a few moments of thought. "You have not told me your name, yet I know you; I have heard of you before, and I know it will be useless for me to try to hide anything from you, but I would like to know your name."

"My name is Pinkerton," I answered, "but I cannot tell you how I know you, nor why I take an interest in your affairs. I wish you to give me a full account of your relations with Pattmore ever since your first acquaintance with him."

I then gave her a gla.s.s of wine to strengthen her, and asked her to proceed. As she spoke at first in a very low voice, I professed to be hard of hearing, in order that she should speak loud enough for my stenographer to hear also.

She first referred to her early married life, when she was perfectly happy in Henry's love; then she said that he made several very long voyages, and when he came home he remained only a few days each time.

During one of these voyages, she met Pattmore and his wife in Brooklyn, and they became well acquainted. Afterward Pattmore frequently came to Brooklyn alone, and he always spent much of his time in her society. She did not realize the danger of his intercourse at first; but, gradually, he began to make love to her, and, finally, he accomplished her ruin.

Thenceforward she was wholly under his control, especially after Henry's desertion of her. He brought her to his own hotel on the plea that she would be company for his wife, and she lived as his mistress, in fact, though not outwardly, until her brother came to take her away. Her brother succeeded in awakening her remorse, and she determined to return to Connecticut with him. Pattmore, however, opposed this action very strongly, and offered to marry her immediately, saying that his wife was sure to die soon from quick consumption, since all her family had died of that disease at about her age. They were therefore secretly married, and she then wrote to her brother that she should not return to Connecticut. When she discovered that she was _enceinte_ she was much alarmed, and she again decided to return to her brother after the abortion had been performed, but Pattmore had a strong control over her still. As soon as she was able to go out, after her illness, Pattmore wrote to her to get a certain prescription put up by a druggist. She did so, and then sent the powders to him. In a short time Pattmore came to Chicago and told her that he had arranged to poison his wife. She was very much shocked at first, but he told her that Mrs. Pattmore could only live about a year anyhow, and that she would suffer a great deal during her rapid decline; hence he argued that there could be no harm in hastening her death to save her from many weeks of pain. He said that he had already commenced to poison her, using small doses, so as to break down her system gradually. While he was there Captain Sumner came back from the East, and he was very angry at Mrs. Thayer for permitting Pattmore to visit her. Then Pattmore told her to poison her brother in order that she might inherit his property. This proposition perfectly horrified her, as she really loved her brother; but Pattmore said that they never could live together as long as Captain Sumner was alive, and that he was afraid the Captain would some day get into a pa.s.sion and kill them both. In this way he worked on her feelings until she agreed to give her brother some of the powder which she had sent to Greenville.

Accordingly she made three attempts to poison her brother, but fortunately she was not successful. Pattmore then returned to Greenville, and soon afterward his wife died. He had visited her only once since that time, but they corresponded regularly. He was very guarded in his letters as to what he said about his wife's death, but she knew that he had carried out his plan, because he had told her so distinctly when he last saw her. He said that he had given her small doses every day until she died; but the doctor believed that she had died of dysentery, so that he was all safe.

When she had finished, I said:

"Well, Mrs. Thayer, I suppose you are aware that you are not legally Pattmore's wife?"

"Yes, I am," she said, with a sort of blind persistency; "his first wife is dead, and as I was legally married to him I am now his wife."

"No, Mrs. Thayer," I replied, "I will show you that your pretended marriage was no marriage at all; when it took place Pattmore's wife was alive, and he could not contract a second legal marriage; again, you have no evidence that your husband is dead, and it is therefore probable that you could not marry again legally. Hence, as he _certainly_ committed bigamy, and as you _probably_ have done the same, there could be no legal marriage between you."

"Yes, Mr. Pinkerton," she acknowledged, sadly, "I know you are right, but still I cling to that belief. If I could be sure that Henry was alive, I should not regard Pattmore as my husband; but, as his wife is dead, and Henry is also dead to me, I shall think that I am Pattmore's wife."

"Well, you can have your doubts set at rest very soon," said I, "for I have received letters from England saying that Henry is on his return from a whaling voyage in the South Sea."

"Is that so?" gasped Mrs. Thayer. "Well, I was told that, but I could hardly believe it. Oh, what shall I do? It was all my fault that Henry left me; he loved me truly, and I once loved him. Oh, if he would only forgive me, and love me, I might hope to be happy again; but I fear he can never pardon the wrongs I have done him."

"Do not despair, Mrs. Thayer," I said; "Henry may be willing to forgive and forget if you show yourself ready to return his affection. However, the first business is to circ.u.mvent Pattmore, and you must lend your a.s.sistance."

"What are you going to do with me?" she asked, in a timid voice.

"I shall let you go home," I replied; "but I shall keep a strict watch upon your actions, and if you show a spirit of true repentance, I will shield you from the penalties of your crimes. You will be called upon to testify in court against Pattmore, and then your brother will take you to his farm in Connecticut. You can go now, but your brother must come here and become responsible for your appearance when wanted. One thing more, Mrs. Thayer; you are receiving letters from Pattmore every day; now, I wish you to send me all his letters without opening or answering them. If you attempt to deceive me in anything I shall be obliged to put you in prison."

"Oh, no, no!" she said, eagerly; "you can trust me, I a.s.sure you, for I know that I am in your power; a fortune-teller told me so."

"Well, well, I don't care anything about fortune-tellers--I never saw one that wasn't a humbug--but you may depend upon it that I cannot be deceived, and I will not be trifled with. You can go home now and tell your brother to come over here to become your security."