Chapter XX Dear Teddy
I am very much ashamed at what happened yesterday. Please forgive my ill-humor and some day, when you have a spare hour, do come to see me.
Very cordially your friend, NAN CHARTERS.
This note was the first which Beecher read on awakening the next morning. He had slept by fits and starts, troubled by the memory of his last interview with the young actress. The sudden unchecked tempest of jealousy and anger which had revealed to him the dramatic intensity of the woman had made a more haunting impression on his imagination than all her premeditated appeals.
“If after all she does love me? How tremendous it would be,” he had said to himself a dozen times, turning restlessly, in the half stupor of waking sleep.
He lived over again the scene—only this time it seemed to him that when she had flung the clock from her in a passion, he had laughed joyfully and caught her struggling in his arms, exulting in this rage which burned so close to him. His first impulse on reading her note was to telephone her immediately, but he resisted this movement, saying to himself that that would be surrendering all his advantage.
“I’ll call up later,” he thought with a smile; “that will be much better.”
He went eagerly down to McKenna’s office, wondering what surprise was in store. Gunther and McKenna were already in the latter’s private office, as he entered, and with the first look he took at the detective’s smiling countenance, he perceived that he must be on the track of something significant.
“We were discussing Mrs. Kildair’s engagement,” said Gunther. “McKenna agrees with me that it will expedite matters wonderfully.”
“How did Slade manage it?” said Beecher at once.
The detective, without answering, went to his desk and picked up a square of cardboard on which he had pasted two clippings from the newspapers, one the announcement signed by Gunther, Sr., Marx and Fontaine, giving notice of their support of the Associated Trust, and the other the bare announcement of the prospective marriage of John G. Slade and Mrs. Rita Kildair.
“I am going to preserve this and hang it up over my mantelpiece,” he said, looking at it thoughtfully, “and when I have an idle hour, I’ll stretch out, smoke up and study it. A couple of million people must have seen that—and that’s all they’ll ever know.”
“And you?”
“I can only—deduce,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. He glanced at the clock and said hurriedly: “Now we must get down to business. I am expecting some one in half an hour who ought to particularly interest you.”
“You know who took the ring!” said Beecher instantly.
“I know several things,” said McKenna briskly; “but everything in place. I promised you gentlemen, as you are interested in those things, a little history of the party that was at Mrs. Kildair’s that night. It’s nothing as literary style goes—just facts. Here it is. I’ll skip the personal descriptions.”
He took up a bundle of notes, seated himself on the corner of the flat desk, and began to read:
“Cheever, Stanley: Age 48; married; old New York family; left a fortune estimated at $425,000, at the death of his father, Ganet Cheever, when he was twenty-eight. Lived ten years abroad, principally London; inveterate gambler; lost heavily at Monte Carlo—sum estimated at $125,000; later became involved in a gambling scandal in England, but it was hushed up by his payment of a large sum to cover notes given. Continued to lose heavily at St. Petersburg, Baden and Paris; began borrowing large sums, meeting obligations with difficulty. Declared bankruptcy in Colorado, where he had gone to promote a mine; his statements contested by creditors who brought suit; contest settled out of court by payment by his relatives to avoid a family scandal. Returned to New York and engaged himself as an exploiter of well-known wine merchants. Married three years ago Lydia Borgen, daughter of a large importing grocer, who brought him $100,000. Lives at rate of $20,000 a year. Only known occupation gambling; said to have won fifty-five thousand dollars in three nights’ play from Kane Wentworth and Thomas Haggerty, Jr.,—protested but paid. Method of play has occasioned numerous reports to his discredit. Accused operating a system of private signals with his wife, by Mrs. Elmer Jardine after scene at card-table; brought suit for libel against her and received $12,000 damages out of court to compromise it. Is not received in home of father-in-law. Cut off by mother’s will. Frequently quarrels with his wife over the attentions of other men. Known to have applied unsuccessfully at several banks within the last month to raise loans. Heavily speculated on long side of recent market, purchasing large block of stocks, margined, on morning after theft of ring, and said to be heavily involved. Sought aid of wife’s relatives day before yesterday; refused.
“Cheever, Mrs. Lydia: Born Lydia Borgen, daughter Harris Borgen, German immigrant, who married Lydia Foley, waitress in Pearl Street restaurant. Father made fortune in grocery business, establishing with brother in South America a large importing office dealing in cocoa, coffee, and fruit. At death of uncle, Lydia became heir to $100,000. Father said to be worth three quarters of a million, but estranged from daughter, whose marriage he opposed. As a young girl Lydia, rebellious and wild, constantly involved in escapades, notably with an actor, James Rocker, with whom she attempted to elope and go on the stage. Kept under strict surveillance, but at age of seventeen ran off with Charles Bourgoyne, young English groom at Waltby’s riding academy. Pursued and arrested just as about to be married in New Jersey. Bourgoyne arrested for abduction but later paid to leave country. Married at nineteen to Stanley Cheever, through mediation of mother and a Mrs. Dorgan, notorious marriage broker. Has become tool of husband in schemes of raising money while leading a separate existence. Keeps private bank account unknown to husband. Very extravagant in personal expenses which cannot be accounted for on known income. From beginning of married life has been conspicuous for her relations with other men, generally wealthy bachelors, who have subsequently lost money at cards: names best known, Edward Fontaine, Reginald Forrest, Thomas Haggerty, Jr. At present seen frequently with R. G. Mapleson of firm of Sontag & Co.—”
“Mapleson!” said the two young men in a breath.
“I know what you mean,” said McKenna, raising his hand. “Wait till I get through”; and he continued to read in his matter-of-fact, unemotional voice these pages of hard, glaring facts that left his hearers straining forward to catch every word:
“At present deeply involved in affair with E. V. Garraboy. Seems to have been introduced to the broker at desire of husband, to obtain through this channel information which his sister, Mrs. Enos Bloodgood, may have acquired from B. L. Majendie of financial affairs in general and particularly Atlantic Trust. Acquaintance developed into violent passion for Garraboy by Mrs. Cheever; has met him frequently of late, twice having been followed to his apartments. Of late, scenes with husband have been increasing in violence, coupled with mutual threats—believe rupture possible.
“Item: Bills against Mrs. Cheever known to be outstanding include $13,800 to Sontag & Co., for jewels; $1,200 to Madame Cortin for hats, etc.; $8,300 to Friegel Bros., robes.
“Item: The $100,000 she inherited, stands in her own name, but is believed to be now reduced to $75,000. Morning after theft of ring, sold short through Garraboy, her broker, 5,000 shares Union Pacific. For further details, see Garraboy.
“Charming little domestic circle, eh?” said McKenna, laying down the sheet. “Now for another:
“Bloodgood, Enos R.: Owner New York Daily Star; large holder of real estate in lower New York; director Metropolitan Opera; brought up, at death of his parents, by his grandfather, Joseph Bloodgood, president of the Northwestern Railroad, as his prospective heir. At age of 20, despite threats of his guardian, left college and married Charlotte Granby, daughter of his tutor. Promptly disinherited. Went to work as a clerk in Brooklyn drygoods store, living on twenty-five dollars a week, refusing all overtures from grandfather, who offered to forgive him on condition of separation from his wife, allowing her $20,000. Refused and lived in that condition for five years until her death, brought on by privations. Reconciled with grandfather and sent abroad for a journey through Europe. Two years later became violently infatuated with a Spanish singer of the Café Chantants and went with her on a trip to South America, again defying his guardian. At the end of a year, affair ended by a secret payment made by his grandfather to the woman to procure her desertion. Followed her and engaged in duel with her companion, from whom he received serious wounds. After recovery, returned to Paris, where he again became entangled in violent infatuations. On point of marrying an Austrian countess of doubtful history, fell ill with pneumonia and almost died. Returned to New York and became reconciled with grandfather. Seemed to turn over new leaf; entered journalism and made good record for steadiness and conservatism, leading exemplary life. Grandfather, in his will, however, contrary to expectations, cut him off with $20,000. Two months later, married Mrs. Georgiana Wakeman, fifteen years his senior, fortune estimated at ten millions, widow of former owner of N. Y. Star, which then passed under his control. Next ten years remarkable for his strict application to business and the dissoluteness of his private life. Mixed up in several promoting schemes with various success. At death of second wife, received bulk of fortune. Remained widower three years, greatly increasing fortune at period of Trust consolidations. Married third wife, Elise Garraboy, noted Southern beauty, no fortune. Union unhappy after first months; returned to his old habits. Three months ago forced to pay $15,000 to prevent blackmailing suit on part of a Miss Edna Rusk, chorus girl. Plunged heavily on short side of late market in a pool formed to bear market; reputed to have made immense gains.
“Item: Has been in confidential relations with Miss Maud Lille for some time. Visited her early morning, after theft of ring.”
“That’s queer,” said Gunther, startled at this final detail. “Did Bloodgood do anything in the market that day?”
“Sold right and left,” said McKenna, exchanging papers.
Beecher, more impressionable than his companion, said nothing, overcome by the bare recital of this brutal, materialistic life that once had been young and stirred to unbelievable sacrifice.
“Bloodgood, Mrs. Enos: Born Elise Garraboy; sister of Edward Garraboy; old Southern family, New Orleans; father Colonel Marston Garraboy; died when children were little. Mother married Boyd Hallowel, Englishman, third son Lord Carmody, came to live in New York. Hallowel died ten years later, leaving her with small income but social connections. Elise educated at convent; made début in society at age of eighteen; great beauty; numerous suitors; engaged in second season to Enos Bloodgood; engagement broken; married a year later. Story current, forced into it to save mother from bankruptcy. Left husband twice in first two years, but persuaded to return by mother. Met Bernard L. Majendie eight months ago at Palm Beach. Infatuation no secret; understood that two weeks before panic had placed her interests in hands of lawyers, who procured evidence for divorce; action halted temporarily. Night of party at Mrs. Kildair’s, trunks packed for journey, tickets purchased at Grand Central to Montreal. Day after, made no investments in Wall Street. Following day, left home with trunks and returned shortly after suicide. Violent scenes with husband. Shut herself up in room for hours. That night went to home of Majendie, company with—”
Suddenly McKenna stopped at a violent movement of surprise from Beecher, and said quickly, “—a woman and a young man. Said to be totally without funds; husband reputed to allow her only $120 a month pocket-money. That’s all.”
Gunther had been quick to see the agitation of his companion but, since he comprehended that whatever the part he had played Beecher wished to keep it in confidence, he pretended to have understood nothing.
“Then there is no trace of Mrs. Bloodgood’s having gone into the market?” he said.
“None,” replied McKenna. “There are other details, but they come better under head of the brother.”
He shuffled the remaining sheets and then, as though divining the unease of Beecher, he said in a matter-of-fact tone:
“Here’s the history of Miss Nan Charters; but as it gives us nothing important we don’t know, I’ll leave it out. Particularly as we’re short of time. However, I’ll say this—there is no record of any stock transactions except that which we know of already. The next is Miss Maud Lille, a curious character, too.”
Beecher drew a long breath and relaxed in his chair, grateful to McKenna for his consideration.
“Lille, Maud,” said the detective, reading. “Real name Margaret Case; daughter Rev. Hiram Case and Fanny Saunders, Zanesville, Ohio; left home at age of sixteen; studied one year to be trained nurse; left hospital and studied stenography; later joined traveling circus, business department; became press agent. Stranded in northern Arizona; earned living by writing for local newspapers under name Jane Anderson; went to San Francisco and from there to Honolulu, supporting herself by her writings, occasionally taking regular position as stenographer. In Hawaii met and married an eastern adventurer known under name of Edward Bracken; returned with him to San Francisco, where couple engaged in mining speculations. Husband pursued for fraud and fled; wife arrested but released. Went to Chicago after securing divorce and changed name to Maud Lille. Sent to Cripple Creek by Chicago World and made a hit by her graphic accounts of labor conditions. Married Patrick O’Fallon, wealthy mine owner. Went with him for trip in Europe but apparently dissatisfied with life left him and returned to newspaper work, establishing herself in New York. Not divorced. Under own name author of several successful novels; prefers Bohemian existence of journalist evidently, reporting prize-fights, political conventions, murder trials, etc. Attached to staff of New York Star and apparently much in confidence of owner. Lately much interested in stock market. On morning after theft met E. V. Garraboy at Levere’s restaurant, near home, before breakfast; returned to her apartment and saw Enos Bloodgood two hours later. Reported sold short 500 shares Union Pacific.”
“By Jove,” exclaimed Beecher as Gunther rose excitedly to his feet, “you’ve got it!”
“Maud Lille took it first and transferred it to Garraboy,” said Gunther, then he stopped, puzzled; “but Bloodgood—that’s incredible!”
“Hold in your horses,” said McKenna, shaking his head with silent laughter, delighted, in fact, that they had fallen into his trap. “There’s one more little history to read.” He hesitated and then said: “Now, I don’t want to play up to a little tin god on wheels, though that’s easy enough. I’ll say this, that a good deal of the information I am reading you I have had in hand. The gentleman whose bright little history I am going to read you, I have had my eyes on for some time. That’ll develop.
“Garraboy, Edward V.: Sent to military training school; expelled; went up north, boarding-school; expelled; tutored for college and went to Harvard; ran up debts to extent of over a thousand dollars in two months, signing promissory notes. Paid by stepfather, who withdrew him at the request of college authorities; cut off by family and sent to Chicago with four hundred dollars to enter business house. Instead, speculated in wheat market and said to have made a little money. Went to Denver with small capital and posed as son of wealthy parents. Made acquaintance of a family called Sanderson and shortly became engaged to daughter, heiress to considerable fortune. Engagement broken as result of investigations. Left Denver, leaving behind a number of debts and bad checks. Next, heard of in southern California, working in mine; got in shooting affray over daughter of Mexican and went into British Columbia. Used many names. Spent a year in small stock companies playing little rôles; made a lucky gamble in silver mine and went to San Francisco, living high. Went to Seattle; became engaged to a widow of large real estate manipulator; persuaded her to invest her money in land exploitation scheme in southern California which proved failure. Ran away from Seattle and went to Hawaii to sell imitation jewelry under name of Edward—”
“Bracken!” exclaimed the two young men in one breath.
“Exactly.”
“Married to Maud Lille!” cried Gunther, the first to recover his astonishment. “Why, the little toad! How the deuce did these women fall for him?”
“Oh, that’s a question by itself, Mr. Gunther,” said McKenna, smiling. “It’s a good deal in studying what you’re dealing with, and Garraboy watched them pretty close. Let me finish.
“Came to San Francisco, as you know; fled to escape pursuit; changing name, shipped as clerk on a merchantman from New Orleans. Next known of him, returned from the Far East under own name with apparently a certain amount of money. On hearing marriage of his sister, came to New York and established himself in Wall Street, largely through the aid of Bloodgood, over whose head evidently has held some threat. Met Maud Lille and probably came to some understanding with her; has paid her money from time to time. Encouraged sister’s infatuation for Majendie, whom sought to enlist in scheme for rice production in South; failed. Made money rapidly until three months ago, when several ventures failed and became involved. Secured personal loan of $10,000 from Majendie without knowledge of sister. Has lived at rate of $40,000 a year, running several establishments; said to have given $15,000 worth of jewelry to Mlle. Clo. D’Aresco, the dancer, on her last visit here. Made immense short sales in recent market and was on verge of failure when panic saved him. Has profited by infatuation of Mrs. Cheever to borrow large sums in last week. On day after theft sold steadily all day; under suspicions by his own clients and on verge of arrest, when drop in stocks turned tide in his favor. Reputed to have covered his losses and made $100,000 in last three days.”
“You were on his track then!” exclaimed Beecher, suddenly enlightened.
“I was and I am,” said McKenna; “and in less than twenty-four hours I’ll shake down that frisky gentleman for about forty-five thousand dollars that he has been speculating with. Four days ago I couldn’t have collected forty-five cents. That’s why I held off.”
“Good Lord!” said Beecher, suddenly remembering. “I say, McKenna, Miss Charters’ money is tied up with him. You don’t suppose—by Jove, I hope nothing’s wrong!”
“You give me the amount,” said McKenna with a click of his teeth. “I’ll get it. He knows, I guess, by this time what a pretty little story it would make in the morning papers. He won’t resist—not he!”
“Look here,” said Beecher excitedly, putting his hand to his pocketbook. “By Jove, that’s lucky. I’ve still got that order. I can telephone her now—”
“Telephone nothing,” said McKenna, reaching out his hand. “I don’t need that order, except as a reference. Just keep it quiet. The young lady won’t thank you less for your saving her without her knowledge, will she?”
“No,” said Beecher, flurried. “Here’s the order. When’ll you get at Garraboy?”
“In about ten minutes,” said McKenna, reaching over for a fresh cigar.
“Here?”
“Right here.”
“And the ring?” asked Gunther quickly.
“What do you think?” said McKenna, his little eyes snapping through the blaze of the match as he lighted his cigar.
“I think it lies between Mrs. Cheever, Miss Lille and Garraboy,” said Gunther; “either woman took it and either passed it to Garraboy at the table—”
“Well?” said McKenna, as Gunther hesitated.
“Or Garraboy took it first and passed it to one of them.”
“Why?”
“For fear that he or she had been seen taking it the first time—to cover up the tracks. Whoever may have seen the ring taken would believe the original thief had restored it and kept quiet.”
“That’s ingenious, and I must say it may prove to have some bearing,” said McKenna. “It’s likewise possible. But you gentlemen have missed the whole point of what I’ve been reading you.”
“In what way?”
“There’s not one bit of evidence who took the ring,” said McKenna, with a gesture at the recording sheets. “It shows who might have taken it—that’s true. Now, what it shows is this—what was working in every one’s mind the night of that party. You remember that it was on the night before Majendie’s failure, and that the whole question of the panic hung on whether he was going to pull through or not. Now, of every one who was there, with the exception of Miss Charters, Mrs. Bloodgood and Mr. Beecher here, every one was in Wall Street up to their necks, and if they knew what had happened to Majendie they could call the turn. Now, what happened? Bloodgood was getting his information from Maud Lille, who got it from Garraboy, who easy enough could get it from his sister, not out of treachery, but unconsciously, you may be sure. Well, all these three got the straight tip. That’s what the meeting next morning was about. Bloodgood never took the ring; that would be ridiculous; and Maud Lille, whatever her record for drifting, is not a crook. So those meetings were on the question of speculation, pure and simple.
“Now, Mrs. Cheever got the news straight and Mr. Cheever didn’t, though he depended on his wife working Garraboy. Cheever bought stocks and was caught. That likewise shows there may be some interesting developments in that charming little family, particularly when he finds out that Mrs. Cheever sold and won. Now, what have we to go on? Cheever’s a crook—but if he took it, he did it alone.
“Garraboy’s a crook and, following Mr. Gunther’s theory, he could have taken it alone or working with Mrs. Cheever. If there was any collusion, it was there. Gentlemen, I am only discussing possibilities.”
“If the ring was taken to raise money to gamble in Wall Street, then it lies between Cheever and Garraboy,” said Gunther.
“Say it this way: if Mrs. Cheever or Miss Lille took it, Garraboy would probably know—”
“And Slade?” said Beecher.
“If Slade took it, we’re losing our time. Aren’t we?” said McKenna.
“McKenna, do you know?” said Gunther suddenly.
“Unless I am very much mistaken, I’ll know in twenty-four hours,” said McKenna, “I know this—who has the ring and when he had it, and this evening, about 5:30 in the afternoon, I ought to know from the gentleman in question, who pawned it—unless I learn sooner.”
“Unless Garraboy confesses,” said Beecher.
“Gentlemen,” said McKenna, answering with a nod an assistant who opened the door at this moment, “I’m not given to boasting, but I’ll risk this.” He went to the desk, wrote a name on a card, sealed it in an envelope and handed it to Beecher. “That’s the name of the person who took the ring. Keep it until it is found. That sounds like Sherlock Holmes, but there’s one reason why I feel like being a little stagey; and I don’t mind admitting to you that I got to it by deduction—honest deduction, though!”
“Why’ve you Garraboy here, then?” said Beecher, while the letter in his pocket seemed to radiate heat like an ember.
“Do you want to know?—you’ll be surprised,” said McKenna, going to the desk again. “Well, it’s to convince myself that Garraboy had nothing to do with it.”
“What!” exclaimed the two.
McKenna made them a signal to be silent and, taking up the loose sheets of the different records, started to place them in the drawer; but all at once he stopped, selected one, the record of the broker himself, and laid it face up on the table. The next moment the door opened and Garraboy came warily into the room.