Newspaper Page Text
jjjjr FINGER OF FIRE. 1
From the London Tid-Bitt.
ine a mob of men as wild as a pack
t (, e scent of blood, and in Us midst
, ■ w being, bound hands and feet, with
xae ..(the lynch men around his neck,
me suddenly upon such a scene in one of
e:.is n the Kio lirande, whither j
journeyed from England, to find a
‘ com I had not seen for years,
y I reined ud my horse near the crowd
, ali oed over the exciting spectacle an
* Tintary cry left my lips as I recognized
victim him whom I hail oome so far
"’aTf&w and knew me instantly: and,
sinaeS no word came from h.m, his pale,
iiP* nr; ,ealett to ra >' heart for help.
*\lv appearance caused a hesitation on the
‘/ 0 f tne ivncb leaders.
r q U iekiy learned that a stranger in those
u (, a u been killed that morning near a
ali holy of water a short distance from
If and that my brother had
L n caught in the very act of striking the
Htti blow. Not one of the spectators
ffufd t have any doubt of his guilt; but
. is so hardened as to condemn his own
'"islmdaered as I realized Almont’s peril,
ini 1:1 uiy own heart Judged him innocent
crime.
“■he is my brother," I cried.
“Hark!" shouted one of the onlookers,
"tbe brother of the murdered man Is here
for justice. Up with him, boys."
••Hold '” I commanded, rising in my s ir*
ni"e as 1 spoke; “blood calls for blood. Let
Dave hold of that rope.”
The mistake in my identity bad suggested
a way in which I might euable my brbther
to escape, aid I resolved to attempt it at
whatever risk. Fortunately there was lit
tle family resemblance between us.
Urging my horse forward the orowd
paneJ, allowing me to reach bis side, when
1 dismounted, ostensibly to examine tbe
(lipping noose.
“It will do," I said loud enough to be
heard bv all. * ‘Now help me lift him on the
back of my ho rse. We want to do this job
it) some shape.”
Willing ones sprang to my assistance, but
in tne brief interval I cut the prisoner’s
bonds so that they held only by a thread,
and arranged the noose so it could be thrown
off as soon as bis arms were free.
1 knew few horses could match mine in
ipeed, and once be bad cleared tbe throng
my brother would be comparatively safe.
He understood my intentions, and the
moment we lifted him upon the horse he
wrenched bis arms free, threw off tbe
noose, dropped into the saddle, and, giving
tbe animal a smart blow, dashed through
the crowd like a whirlwind, and in a few
moments was beyond pursuit.
Of course there was loud reviling over his
escape, but I appeared so anxious for his re
ca: ture that no blame was attached to me.
To carry out the deception I had the body
of the stranger carefully buried and re
mained in the place until I deemed it safe to
depart.
It was nearly three months before I met
my brother in London, whither he had fled,
and then he thanked me with tears in bis
eyes for my daring assistanoe in his escape
irom the lyncher'. To my surprise, how
ever, he evaded the subject of the murder,
sayt g simply that no crime had been com
mitted. I did not feel like pressing the
matter, so the affair was not mentioned
ays n, though it haa haunted my mind ever
since.
Last week my broiher died with no
kindred near him, and to-day’s post has
brought me a manuscript containing a
Btartling revelation.
In justice to my brother’s name, as well
as my own satisfaction, I am prompted to
give to the public one of the strangest con
fessions ever made. The foliowing is his
acoount bs he wrote it to me:
" W hen this is read I shall have passed be
yond the tribu al of man, and wish to im
press upon you that I am auout to record
faithfully an experience which I sincerely
hope will fall to the lot of no ot er person.
“I was alone in my room late one dark,
•tormy night, when I beard a rap on the
door which I fancied at first was but the
wind shaking it on its binges. But it was
repeated louder than before. I bade the
applicant, whoever he might be, to cone in,
without looking up from the book which
held my attention.
“A moment later the door was opened,
and with the gust of wind, which sent
every light object in the room flying topsy
turav, a man entered the apartment with
quick, catlike steps.
“ ‘Pardon me for the unreasonable hour
at which I call,’he eoid, in a oiear, crisp
tono; 'but I suppose doctors get used to all
sorts of calls.’
“ ‘Certainly,” I replied, I fear somewhat
impatiently, as he had interrupted me at a
time shell i did not like to be disturbed,
‘What can I do for you?'
“ ‘O, Ido not come for professional as
sistance,’ he hastened to say, evidently
reading my thoughts. ‘Mine is strictly a
business call. Are you at liberty for a few
minutes?’
“ ‘Yes, but the hour is late, so I trust
you will be as brief ns possible.’
“ ‘Hr. liarlow, how much are you worth?’
‘“Enough to make life comfortable for
myself,’ I replied. ’lf you have no moreim
p rtant question than that our interview
migtit as well oome to an end at once.’
“ ‘Pardon me, I will come to business.
As I told you, lam a professor of science,
b and I have made a discovery which is worth
millions—yes, sir. millions.
“ ‘1 i eed not tell you of the anxious days
sud sleepless nights it has cst mo. No
matter, I have succeeded at last. And you
are the first man whom I have ever ap
proached with my secret. I did not do that
until ] was satisfied you were the safest one
1 could find.’
“As he spoke he opened a small bag
which be carried, and toon out three or four
vials to plaoe upon the table.
“ ‘Education based upon scientific re
search,’he remarked, ‘has made a startling
advance within the ;ast few years. But no
man has gone farther into the unfathomable
depths than myself. You have a basin of
water here: pardon me if I appropriate it
to my own use.’
“I bowed in acquiescence, too much stir
prised to speak,
"He quickly unsealed one of the vials and
poured its contents into the basin of water.
Then from another be sifted a bluish-colored
powqer upon the surface of the liquid,
which no sooner had it touched the other
than it began to hiss, foam and spursle.
Until there came a report, like a pistol shot,
and a column of lurid flame leaped up to
the oeiling. *
"1 started back with a cry ot terror.
" ‘ikiu’t be alarmed.’ he assured me with
u smile; 'the water will soon burn out.’
"The Cre soon began to grow pale and to
diminish in higfct. when it finally died out
ad together, and I saw that the basin was
empty.
“ ‘How much do you think that secret is
worth?’asked ray visiter, still showing his
white teeth between ills parted lips.
“ ’ What do you menu?' I cried.
" ‘;.-it down and be composed, and 1 will
quickly explain.’ Then as I sank into the
’"■arest seat at a loss what to do or to say,
be continued:
" ‘Seeing is believing, so I have shown to
you wbat I can do to impress up n you
more deeply the power that I possess. You
nave seen that basin of water burn like so
much oil, and now you w ill believe mo when
1 tei! you that I have unlocked one of na
ture’s great seotefs, and that the key lies in
that small vial!’
"His demoniacal smile as ho spoke mado
me shudder.
'"I do not underetand you,’ I faltered. ‘lf
you meau that you can burn water ——’
" ‘Haven’t I done itf be cried. 'Why.
•nan alive! don’t you realize the imp rtui ce
°f that secret! Io those phials are held the
numpouant agents atdo to separate the con
"tituaut parts of water, and, freeing the
**“l# set tuem at wur with each other,
which must result in combustion and total
annihilation.
Think of that, and realize that I hold
■n inv hand the destiny of the world. Let
019 throw ever so little of those wonderful
properties into the Atlantic, and dare you
contemplate the result? Iu one instant a
nucleus of fire would be formed to grow
swiftly in size, separating the gases of
wmer and feeding upon them, until the
shores of Europe aud America would be
wiped out in a sheet of flame.
“ ‘No deluge that ever drowned the world
oonld extinguish the conflagration, but
would rattier transport the fiery legions to
the very niliars of heavens. Audit would
spread from shore to shore and from ocean
to ocean, UDtil it bad enfolded the globe in
its seething embrace. Every creature of
tbe sea, tbe air and the land would perish,
aye, tbe earth itself would melt into fer
vent heat.’
“During bis startling speech be had
worked himself into a fearful frenzy to fix
his inteuse gaze upon me as he concluded
with a light that burned into my inmost be
ing. 1 felt 1 was in tbe presence of a mad
man.
‘“O, well,’ I said, with what calmness I
could oommand, ’we won’t anticipate so
dreadful a catastrophe as you so vividly de
scribe; but it is evident you have made a re
markable discovery. I am auxious to know
just how you accomplish it.’
" ‘Which is my secret,’ he said, with an
other smile, and I saw that my dlspassi nate
soeech had bad a soothing effect upon him.
The man was evidently sane except upon
that one subject.
“ ‘You are the most sensible man I have
met,’ he soou resumed, ‘and I am going to
impart enough of my secret to you so
you will act with good faith in assisting
mein a direction wnere I am powerless.
“ ‘lt needs not mv words to tell you that
water Is composed of two gases, |hydrogen
and oxygen, in parts as one to eight. United
in that proportion these elements, are im
pervious to fire. Every schoolboy knows
that. But mix them m any other propor
tion and heat, flame, combustion is tbe im-
mediate consequence.
“ "Now, I have discovered the kev which
unlocks the affinity bolding together the
constituent parts of water. A few grains
of this powder are sufficient to dismember
its warlike elements, when the funeral pyre
of the human race is kindled as for as this
planet is concerned.’
“ ‘lmpossible?’ I could not help exolaitn
ing. ‘God, in his infinite wisdom, never
created a world so beautiful as this aud then
placed in tbe bands of its subjeots tne means
of its deitructiou.’
“ ‘Poor fellow,’ he said, compassionately.
‘You forget that the moon is but a tire-ex
tinguished world; that planets without num
ber are the charred remains of what were
once sceneß of life and beauty; that tbe sun
is a molten mass of beat; that be has said In
bis own word, in the "end the heavens shall
be folded together like a scroll, tbe elements
to melt with fervent heat.”
“ ‘You see this phial, it contains potas
sium. It needs not me to tell a men of your
information the result when this is brought
into contact with oxygen. It ignites m
stautly. This powder here, the secret of
whose compound is known only to me, con
tains properties which instantly decompose
the watery elements. Tbe moment tbe oxy
gen is free tbe potassium ignites it aud tbe
work of flerv destruction is begun.
“ ‘You beiray a look of doubt. Perhaps
you think that this action will be merely
local, that tbe properties will quickly burn
out, and iu oontequence the tire die for
want of sustenance. If so, you err. Tbe
properties of this powder are self-generat
ing, and os long as tbe water lasts must of
necessity continue their work of decomp s:-
tion, tbe oxygen continually feeding tbe
flames.
“ ‘Get me another basin of water; I want
to de i.ous rate it more clearly to you.’
“As he bad done before, be turned the
potassium into tbe basin and then sifted in
a certain amount of the powder. The hiss
ing and fuming quickly began, followed by
a sharp report, when a column of Are again
sprang up. which lasted until the water was
consumed.
“ ‘You see my first trial was no illusion,’
he said, turning to me. ‘What I have done
once 1 can do every time.’
*‘ ‘it is a terrible thing,’ I exclaimed, with
a shudder. ‘But why have you ooma to
me?’
“ ‘Because the secret is worth much to
me. But when I approach men they call
ms mad and will not listen. They will be
lieve you, and when you have proved w bat
I can do they will gladly pay my price.
Then I will divide with you and we shall
both be rich, you to live at your ease aud I
to continue my investigations. Will you
help mo?’ and he caught me by the arm
with a clutch I seem to feel now.
“ ‘Help you*’ I asked in a husky voice.
‘Would you jeopardize the lives of ti e
whole human race for a few paltry thou
sands? A man of your great intellect and
research should be above -’
" ‘You still doubt my ability to do what I
claim?’ he interrupted. ‘Perhaps in the
open air you think I would fail? I saw to
day a grand sheet of water for a trial.
Come witn me and I will astonish even you.
See, the storm has cleared away aud the day
is breaking.’
"1 was puzzled what to do. There was no
one in the house upon whom I could call for
assistance, but outdoors 1 might escape the
man whom, I must confess, I feared. So I
consented to accompany him.
“The morning light was fast dispelling
the shadows of night and storm, and we had
no difficulty in muking our way to a little
body of water quite hemmed in by the
mountains and ths forest. My companions,
as il fearing 1 would attempt to escape, had
not taken his gaze from me since we bad
left the house.
•“ There is a good place to test our work,’
he declared, pointing to a small pool of
water formed in a depression of the earth
by the late storm.
"Without waiting for my reply he threw
some of the potassium and powder into the
wator. The result was startling to me,
though I had anticipated the consequent*.
"The report was deafening and the flames
seemed to leap to the sky, Illuminating the
night scene with a ghastly light; but star -
ling as was the light of the burning water
the appearance of my companion, who had
seemed to be suddenly transformed into a
demon, was more terrible.
“ ‘Sea, see,’ he cried, dancing to and fro
with fiendish glee, ‘it burns, will burn till
the pool is dry. What do you think of my
seoret now! Do I not hold the koy to all
life? O, 1 feel like a god, aud all men aru
but worms crawling at inv feet. See, the
flams? leap higher and higher.
"‘Now letnie drop the same agents which
set that pool on tire into this lake, and the
result will be the same; ave, the same, only
a million times more grand, for the fire will
follow the river to tbe gulf, and thence to
the oceans, to envelop the entire world in
its blazing sheets. What a sight for the
gods to witness!’
‘‘He gesticulated fiercely, and reached one
arm out over the water os if to drop the in
fernal powder up >n its plncid bosom, Mb
wild-looking figure lit by the transplendent
glow of the burning pool. I gazed with awe
uuon him, realizing only too weil the terri
ble earnestness of his tone.
•‘‘Wait!’l cried, hoarsely; ‘you forgot
the money. Your secret is worth ’
•* ‘Ball! Who prates of money with a
cringing world at his feet! 1 he shrieked.
‘They laughel at me; now let their tears
put out the flames my hand has kindled.
Heo. The potassium, it fumes, hisses, dances
uuon tbo wator. Now the pow ’
“Imagine, who can, the horror of my sit
uation. The blood seemed to freeze in ray
veins. My limbs seemed paralyzed. But I
quickly overcame the lethargy. The life of
every being in tbe world was in tny bands.
Nerving myself for tbe blow, 1 foiled the
mad scientist dead at my feet. At that
moment tne lire behind me expired. The
world was saved.
"You know tbe rest. I was discovered in
tbo act of dealing tbe fatal blow by men
who could not understand the immeasura
ble deed I had done. You saved my life.
In the Might of God l feel that I have com
mitted no crime; but I shall die easier
knowing that when I am gone the truth
will be known to the world. My c mscience
is clear, and yet the se ie; has pointed at
my every action like a finger of fire.”
Coughs, Hoarseness, More Throat, etc.,
quickly relieved by Brown's Bronchial
Thochbs. They surpass all other preparations
in removing hoarseness an 1 as a cough remedy
are pre-eminently the he* i.—ud.
THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, MARCH 19. 1893-SIXTEEN PAGES.
SHADOWING IS AN ART.
IT TASKS COOL, SENSIBLE MEN TO
BE DETECTIVES.
Masks and Disguises Are but Rarely
Used Except by the Penny-Dteedful
Novelist and the Melodramatic
Hswzsbsw of the Stage—Detectives
Work iu Pairs, and Their Task Is the
Most Prosaic Possible—Discomforts
of the Trade—A Sample Case After
inspector Byrnee’ Methods.
From 'the Chicago Times.
The telephone bell jingles. The chief of
tbe detective bureau takes up the ear
trumpet, and, listening a moment, turns
and writes somelbiDg on a bit of paper, at
the same time tapping a bell and summon
ing one of bis aid 9.
“Hark sway,” he says—and as he speaks
he is already thumbing tbe oity directory
for au address—“Harkaway, some dia
monds have been stolen at the big hotel up
on Broadway; burry up there with help;
learn all the details of tbe case; then join
your side-partner, Bailey, at the Twenty
third street station of the Sixth Avenue
Elevated railroad. Now skip! quick 1"
This is the way a deteotive begins his day’s
work. It is a case that is to attract wide
spread interest. Harkaway is one of the
best men in New York. It will be interest
ing to follow him.
Arriviug at tbe hotel, the landlord is in
waiting. To the detective the proprietor of
tbe place says:
"Mr. Harkaway, I have a case for you.
It involves the loss of a $6,000 package of
diamonds, left for security iu our safe by
one of our guests.”
“How long have tbe stones been lost?”
“Two weeks. It is like this."
The landlord then went on to say that a
lady bad deposited the gems for safe keep
ing and that they bad mysteriously disap
peared overnight from tbe safe. Nobody
was suspected. Tbe clerk on watch at tbe
time was one of the old and trusted em
ployes of the house.
“I must interview the clerk,” said Hark
away at once.
“O, certainly, certainly,” replied the pro
prietor, tapping a bell.
To the cage who responded the landlord
gave directions that Mr. Shepard should
oome at once to the private office.
Jack Shepard bad been in the employ of
the bouse for many years. He was one of
tbe trusted agents of the firm. Yearly
thousands and thousands of dollars in cash
aud in property passed through his bands.
His record was above reproach. Personally
Shepard was a man of fine presence, grace
ful in bearing, forceful in speech. He was
a man of few words. His story of the rob
bery bad all the elements of truth. He said,
iu response to questions, that he bad put
away tbe package blmsslf, given a receipt
for it, but that it was stolen overnight.
That was all be knew about tbe case.
“I will shadow Jeck Shepard.”
These were the final words of the de
tective. Tbe proprietor expressed surprise,
but wisely left tbe case to Harkaway,
“OPERATOR SO. PS REPORT.”
From this time forth Harkaway was
known at tbe hotel as “Operator No. I.”
He determined to find out at once in wbet
style Shepard was living. He learned
from tne directory that the clerk had a flat
in tbe upper part of the oity. He resided
here with bis handsome wife and cblld.
Operator No. 1 entered the oozy home
several times disguised as a dealer in
small wares. He found everything pretty
and unassuming. Mrs. Shepard wore no
excessive amouut of jewelry ; tbe olerk be
longed to one bumble olub; he was a reg
ular member of tbe church; be had, so far
as Operator No. 1 could see, no expensive
habits and no costly vices.
Operator No. I used to oome into tbe
hotel just about the hour he knew Shepard
would be relieved. He would "cover” his
man—that is, "shadow” him—for hours
thereafter, till the clerk was safe iu his
home. Nothing uuusual was developed for
some days. Luring this time the detective
was nandlug in dally reports to (fis office of
bis doings. One read like this:
“Took ray man at 5 o’clock in the after
noon; covering him right side Broadway to
Fourteenth street, then west side to Tenth
street, where he went into salon and played
billiards with dark man wearing whiskers;
they stayed there two hours; then took him
to East Tenth street, where went into
restaurant; sat down alone aud ate; small
supper; then to Third Avenue elevated at
Niutb street; rde with him up to One
Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street station;
went in house No. 333; lady came to win
dow and reived blinds; thou gave way to
operator No. 2.”
Operator No. 2, of course, stayed there all
night, shadowing the man to the hotel next
morniug.
After working at the case three weeks,
aud filing daily reports of progress with tbe
detective bureau, something quite definite
turned up one day. Ope.ator No. 1 was
sitting in the park near the hotel, thinking
the matter over. Nothing had as yet come
of all the investigations the bureau had
made at tbe pawn shops. The diamonds
had disappeared as effectually as though the
earth bad swallowed them up. Operator
No. 1 was convinced, in his own
mmd, that (here was a woman iu
the case, but the difficulty was to locate
the prize. That day his report said:
“Took subject at the usual hour and
shadowed down Br adway to Fourteenth;
then down Fourteenth; bowed to lady in
black; lifted bis bat to two girls in blue
and pink; one girl tall and fair, the other
short and dark; then to saloon on Four
teenth, near Sixth avenue, where heordered
a cocktail and took a nip of the free lunch;
leaned over tbe bar and had a long chat
with barkeeper Then out Sixth Ave
nue elevated to same house in One Hundred
and Twenty-fifth street; stayed inside an
hour and took Third Avenue elevated to
Barclay e.reet; theu ou 9 o’clock ferry of
New York, Ontario an 1 Weetern railroad
to Weehawkttn; took him up lonely road;
no one else near us; difficult to follow with
out being dropped to; finally was dropped
to; bad to quit at once.”
“What do you mean by being ‘dropped
to?’” suggested the landlord, as be beard
the story.
"Dropped to—why. that means when the
subject lakes a tumble to a man and real
izes that he is followed. In such instances
wo have to put another fellow on the case.
To-morrow Operat r No. 2 will cotne for
ward. Since tbe subject is ou to me we
will change men.”
“He thinks he has trioked you*”
“They all think that.”
That night the landlord trie! to reason
out why bis faithful clerk would go to a
place remote from his home, alone on a
lonely road. He finally gave up the matter
iu disgust. •
A SNEAK IN THE NIGHT.
One fine afternoon a man sauntered up to
the desk and asked if Farcy Hen wick was
stopping iu that house.
Clerk Shepard replied that he bad been
there but that he was gone now.
The roa i then said that the present ad
dress of Percy Renwick would be desired.
The clerk sa dhe did not know what the
address \>as, but would tty to find out. For
the present no uioro was said.
About tbit time the laudlord noticed that
a good deal of mail came to the hotel for a
certain Percy Reuwiek, hut that it bad sud
denly stopped; there was no such name on
the ledgers. To Clerk Bhepard the proprie
tor said:
"Jack, who is this man P,enwick. He
seems to get a lot of mad here.”
“He does. lie is a friend of mine: he ii a
drummer, but he Is out of New York now.
He asked me to look after his mail while he
was gone.”
That very night after Shepard was gone,
in came a boy with a letter addressed to
Percy Kenwick. The night clerk signed for
it, threw it aimlessly ixto the common re
ceiver, an l went on with his w. rk. Half
an hour later a gentleman called and asked
for tbe Kenwick letter. It was given him
and he at once departed.
Meantime Operator No. 2 was covering
Shepard all around town. He shadowed
tbe clerk in and out of saloons; be shadowed
him to his home; be hung around for hours.
To be a detective is to play a waiting game. I
It is worse than this. It is to expose
yourself to all the inclemencies of wind and
weather. To be out all night waichmg a
place is a mere trifle. Sometimes the game
will h-oome shy aud will not make a move j
for weeks. It proved so in this case. A j
week now passed without a single lucident
worthy of record. Dal y, however, the re- !
ports of the men—Operator No. 2 and his
"side,” Operator No. 3 were banded to the
bureau. These told of shadowing or of j
“covering" the subject from the hotel ana
back again.
That night, very late. Jack Shepard was !
a passenger ou the ferryboat to Wee
bawken. He then took tbe street car aud
rode a long way to a lonely part of the out
skirts. It was nearly 11 o'clock. Jt was {
through anew country; the street car Hue
was one of those irregular suburban affairs.
In tbe car was a poor laboring man, o ad iu
blue jeans, returning with bis dinner pail
from bis bard toil.
Shepard left tbe car after riding half an
hour. He went straight to a splendid villa
set back in a small park twsido the broad
highway. A knock on tbe frout door aud
he was admitted to the grand home. A
woman came to the door, all glittering iu
silks and diamonds.
Those diamonds were the stolen property,
and this woman was enjoying tbe ill-gotten
wealth.
SOMETHING ABOUT DBTKCTIVB^
The day of disguises in the detective busi
ness is gone by. All that one rends of false
whiskers, changes of costumes and all the
rest is likely to be spun out of the imagina
tion.
Your real deteotive is a very practical
fellow.
Tbe great Supt. Byrnes of New York,
before whose very name crooks in every
land tremble in their biding, save that
there is no romance about crime! He baa
done all he can, and that is a great deal, to
reduce thief-hunting to a BOientifio basis.
If a man is to be “sbadoweu'' be is simply
shadowed, and that is all there is to it.
Thera is none of tbe claptrap “disguising”
of tbe dime novelist and of the cheap circuit
drama. Nor does your good detective need
to be spying around under the very nose of
his victim. He can remain a long way off
or be uan be near at hand; at any rate he
never reveals his preseuce by grotesque
ogling, passing and repasslug, as the cbe>p
novelist: would have you helleve. He
simply acts like any other sensible man
would—not a deteotive —who might chance
to be told to "watch” a friend. Between tbe
words “watch” and "shadow” there is
little difference except that one has a
more mysterious sound than has tbe other.
And your good detective docs not use the
word “shadow” either. He prefers tbe
vaguer expression “took.” This is to pre
vent suspicion. There are hundreds of men
in responsible positions in New York who
are weekly subjected t v close watch. All
tbeir outgoings aud inoomiugs are reported
to the hoad o tbe Arm. If a fellow is going
wrong ten to one tbe sort of fife be is lead
ing will show it. Therefore all the large
co porations spend plenty of money in tbe
“suadowing” business yearly. Thus tbe
senior partners know at a glance just
where tbeir young men have been tbe
night before. The information ernes to
them in the form of the reports, given as iu
the Shepard esse. These reports are often
very exact as to detail. Your good de
tective will photograph tbe doings of bis
subject with almost microscopic fidelity.
He will include the drinks tbe chap took m
public, tbe people be bowed to on tbe street,
tbe ladies be chatted with, whether they
were stylishly dressed or the contrary, tbeir
personal eba ms; also the very ebon window
the subject lingered before ou bis way up or
down town.
For safety the detective calls himself
“Operator No. 1” or "Oper itor No. J."
When tbe first deteotive is weary by long
hours hie “side” comes up and relieves him.
Then the first man comes back again, and
so on. If tbe subject leaves to-u on the
train for Boston or Buffalo tbe deteotive is
following still, as silent as the grave, as con
stant as tbe shadow to tbe sun, telegraph
ing to his partner to follow at once, keep
ing him iuformed by repeated telegram*
just where to meet him; by and by tbe
seoond man catches up again, and so it goes.
All this is tbe work of tbe “shadow er.”
Detectives have more trouble shadowing
women than tbey have with men. Tbe rea
sou for tbis is obvious. A man can go any
place his subject can enter, but be cannot
follow a woman wherever she may go. A
woman, for illustration, can go into a big
bazar, with ten or more doors, and give the
shadow tbe slip with tbe greatest of ease. A
man could never do this. Then, again, if a
woman “drops” to the deteotive she can
make him much trouble by leading him a
long and fruitless journey, all over time,
miles aud miles, just merely to “make
sport” of him. This is a thoroughly femi
nine trick, to the best detectives say.
CAUGHT IN A DRAG.
When Jack Shepard came down to work
that next day he said to bis brother clerk,
whom he was relieving:
"Were there any letters for me while I
was gone?”
“There were not.”
Ten minutes later be was summoned to
the office of the proprietor.
Two strange men were there. One of tbeso
men was Harkaway, the other the clerk
had seen before. The proprietor, in
a cold voice, said:
“Shepard, you will oansider yourself un
der arrest.”
Tbe man started backward with a low cry
of surprise.
“Wbat's that?” he gasped, looking from
one face to tbe other.
“St.epard,” said the manager, in a quiet
way, "did you ever know a man named
Percy Ren wick?”
"He is my friend, the Chicago drummer.”
"1 thought 80. Remem: er, this is a mat
ter of life aud death; answer et your peril
Did you, or did you not, ever know a man
named Percy Ren wick?”
‘-•Never—only as I say."
“You lie!”
“What doea that mean?” said the clerk,
flaring up.
“It means,” said Harkaway, coming for
ward, “that you are hereupon formally ar
rested for the diamond robbery of three
months ago. It means, too, that Percy
Renwick aud Jaok Shepard are one and tbe
same personage. Under the former name
you have been getting mail at this hotel.
These letters were written to you bv the
woman io whom you gave the diamonds aud
for whom you must now spend twenty years
iu Sing Sing. Your time has cons.”
With this the detectives slipped the irons
ou the the thief’s wrists.
And to this day, a- he sits in his lonely oell
iu Sing Slug, he does not know bow it was
that bis lover’s country villa, far down that
lonely road, back m that splendid private
park, where he visited only under cover of
midnight, was unearthed. He thinks about
it often aud often iu tbe silent watches of
tbe uight, like many another convict—
thinks of the points in the great game
wherein he failed and for which he now
gives up bis life. But the poor laboring
man who sat in the street oar with his tin
pail might throw some light on the ma’ter
if he chos<*. He was none other than “Oper
ator No. 2” doing a neat bit of detective
work for his bureau.
To Got at the Facta
Regarding Hood's Sarsaparilla, o sk the peo
ple who take this medicine, or read the tes
timonials often published in this paper.
They will certainly convince you that
Hood’s .Sarsaparilla possesses unequaled
merit, and that Hoop’s Cures.
Hood’s Pills cure constipation by re
storing the periiualtio action of the ali
mentary canal. They are the best family
cathartic.—aJ.
At a Swiss Hotel.—Landlord—Go and
wake tbe gentleman at No. 7. Boots—But
he told me to aw ken him in a couple of
hours. landlord -Nonsense! Wuke biin
now. He neither eats nor drinks anything
as long at he is asleep.— Dorfbarbier.
$600,000,000 ON THE RACES
THAT 18 ABOUT THE YEARLY FIG
URE FOR THE UNITED STATES.
New York City’s Big Ehars—Gotham
and Brooklyn Contribute One-sixth
of the Pool Rooms' Revenue.
From the X*t Vor* Press.
There is yearly spent upon the race tracks
of Gut ten burg, Gloucester, Sheepshead Bay
aud adjacent oourses a far greater sum of
money tban is required to conduct tbe
municipal affairs of the great cities of New
York aud Brooklyn. The annual budgets
of tbe two b g towus do not call for over
*60,000,000. More than $100,000,000, or
nearly double that amount. Is yearly lost or
won—principally lost —at tbe race tracks,
and nobody in particular seems to be bene
fited by this enormous expenditure.
Throughout the United States more
money finds its way to tbe pool box than it
cost to run tbe federal government, yet few
seem to be better off by the circulation of
this vast amount of coin and greenbacks.
That I may not be accuse lof exaggera
tion, I will adduce the figures furnished me
by a well-known sportsman, who is au au-
thority upon the subject. There ore in the
cities of New York and Brooklyn, including
suburbs, about 3,000,000 people. Statistics
show that the proportion of male adults is
one out of every mi persons. This would
give 500,000 to the two cities with their sub
urbs. My sporting informant tells me
that one out of every eight men, not to
speak of boys, in and about New York and
Brooklyn, play the races. Tbis means that
62,500 men daily tempt fortune. Somegame-
Bteis play away up in tbe buudreds; others
only invest a five or a ten “spot,” while the
lowest that cau be wagered is sl. The mean
between these extremes —1 am speaking of
meu’s play now, and not of boys’—has been
found after close study and observation, to
be about $550. Five aud one-half times
62,500 (the men who play) are *343,750.
Just think of it! Betweon *250,000, and
*500,000 a day spent on the race track til this
immediate vicinity. As there are 313 week
days in tbe year, that would mean that the
Titanic sum of $106,493,750 Is auuually ex
pended in tbe same way.
IN THE WHOLE COUNTRY.
In the United States there are 66,000,000
of people. Tbe male adult population is 11,-
000,000. Tbe proportion of gentlemen with
sporting blood in tbeir veins is not, of
course, in the interior commensurate with
New York or Brooklyn. Iu cities like Al
bany. Troy, Syracuse, Rochester, Ciuoln
nati, Chicago, Denver, Leadville, Portland
aDd San Francisco, the ratio is in favor of
the smaller towns. In tbe country proper,
however, the “dead game sport” is a rare
bird. Of the 11.006,000 male adults it is esti
mated tbat only one out of twenty-two
tries the “equine paradox.” Tbat would
□take 5u0,0U0 “farmers” (as all people out
side of New York are facetiously termed
by metropolitan sportsman), who endeavor
to tap the pool box. Tbe average invest
ment is considerably llguter in the interior
than in New York,sav *3 to each speculator.
That would make *1,500,000 for eao i day,
or about *500,500,000 tor the 313 working
days In the year. A tidy sum tbat—half a
thousand billion—the “farmers” of the
smaller towns and cities yearly spend in a
futile attempt to ‘ ‘heat tile horses."
Where does all tbis money go? We have
seen that over $100,000,001' is yearly spent
in and abou* New York and Brooklyn upon
the outcome of equine events, and over ; 500,-
000,000 In all tbe country outside tbe
“greater New York,” whicb is to be Who
reaps tbe benefit? Certainly not tbe player,
for outside of “Pittsburg Phil” (George W,
Smith), “Lucky” Baldwin, Mike Dwyer,
‘‘Cull” Holland and Col. Bill Harding
you never hear of a plunger who does not
•‘go broke” trying tue well nigh Impossible
task of winning the smiles of tbe equine
siren. The Marquis of Hastings, tbe greatest
of til pi ingers, blew in one of the finest es
tates iu England. Ills lo ses npproxima', and
£1,00.1,000, o. about *5,000,000. “Jubilee”
Juggins (so-oalled because he inherited and
wasted a fortune by fast and furious play
ing at tbe time qiueeu Viotoria celebrated
the fiftieth year of her reign), spent $3,000,-
000 on turf ventures in a single year. Our
own famous plunger, Waltou, won $700,-
000 in England in 1831. Walton baoked the
winning horse at three big coniests and
raißed havoc among the English book
makers, From Arthur Maginis, the
greatest of British sportsmen, Walton took
$400,000 alone. Two years after tbe “king of
tbe American pluogers”again visited Eng
land, and he not only lost tbe $700,000 bo
had won in England, but about $200,000
more he had picked up on the American
turf the season following his English vent
ure. Arthur Maginis got the liou’a share
of the plunder. In fact, he was tbe book
maker who “broke" Walton. He got back
his $400,000 with tremendous interest.
NO ONE ADMITS SETTING THE MONEY.
The various racing associations claim
that they see very little of the money at
the end of the season, although they take in
hundred of thousands of dollars in the way
of admission fees. The huge purses they
hangup, together with the thousand and
one expenses which are necessarily inourred,
the officers say, eal up all tbe profits. Tney
are content to do a little better than “quit
eveu” at tbe close of tbe season. The as
sociations, these gentlemen aver, open
traoks and conduct great eveuts, not for
tbe purpose of making money, but for pro
moting honeet sport.
Who makes tbe money, then? Is it the
race hoise owner! August Belmont, Pierre
Lorillard and ex Mayor and ex-U tigross
rnan Michael N. Noland, tbe Albany
Crtßsus, sold out their stables, although
they had the best horses iu the oountry, be
cause they could not stand tbe draft upon
tbeir purses. Owning and racing horses is
adjudged upon all sides to be a o etly
luxury. Who sweeps in the coin, theu! Is
it tbe bookmaker on tbe track* Ask any
one of them and bo will toll you that he
counts himself fortunate indeed if be oomes
back to town with a thousand or two. The
hundred dollars a day he has to pay to the
association for the p ivllege of hanging up
his shingle in the l ettiDg i ing at the track
and tne keon rivalry of his brother book
makers keep him guessing us to how he will
meet bis obligations.
At last we bate it. It must be the city
pool room keeper who catches tne nimble
dollar ns i‘ wings its silvery flight across
the equine firmament. Here, again, we are
disappointed. Too pool room keepeer, if he
is a friend And confides in you, will whis
per in your ear that bis lot is tbe hardest of
all. First, the landlord insists upon six
times the rent he would get from any other
tenant, and then—here the whisper becomes
less audible and more tragic in its intensity
—the police must be cared for. With ut
"protection” tbe pool room keeper can do
no business. To orown his misfortunes, he
will add, the officers of a certain society,
founded for tbe purposes of social regenera
tion, ing.st upon tbeir “bit,” and he must
"give up,” or seek for pastures new. With
a sigh, he concludes by saying that he
counts himself lucky to have the where
with to pay rent and buy bread for his
family.
TUB JOCKEYS LOSE THEIR SALARIES.
Whose capacious paw, then, grasps and
holds the “long greeu!” Is It tbo high
priced jockey? Some of these midget
monarchs, I know, make all the way from
SIO,OOO to $25,000 u ou their scow in’s
mounts. Here, again, we are at see. With
the exemption of dashing Fred Taral, noue
of them has any money to speak of. A
brief investigation, howeversh ms, tbe rea
son fir this. With tbe exception of Taral,
they all back tbeir mounts or some other
fellow’s mounts. “Snapper" Garrison, the
“demon rider” of the merman turf, Isas
daring a bettor on a limited scale as tbe
Marquis of Hastings or "Plunger” Walton.
Although bis earnings yearly a proooh $2.5,-
(XX) he is generally “plum broke." Lately,
however, he has wo< ed successfully that
fickle jade ortu ie, aid is about $3),00d to
tbe good. Will “Snapper” continue to
nold her smiles?
Jimmy McLaughlin, too, at one time
| America s premier rider, a few years ago
| FACE BLEACH.
Every Woman Owes it to Herself
To l>e as Beautiful as Possible.
TArc you troubled with any discoloration
or disease of the skin, or is you complexion
not entirely satisfactory? If so, then use
V Lift Mme. A. ltuppert’s Face Bleach ! It will
V3> /F cure you. If you have no blemish it will
improve and preserve your complexion.
Cgf Face Bleach soils .it s*2 per single bottle, which will always show In*.
provement. or three bottles (usually required to clear the complexion)
$5. t'Ond b cents postage for book ‘ How to Be Beautiful.”
*• MME. A. RUPPERT, 15 EAST 14TH STREET, NEW YORK. ,
For Sale in Savannah at GUTMAN’S, 141 Broughton street.
was worth *IOO,OOO or more. In course of j
time Jimmy became too heavy to take a
mount aid turned horse owner. Thou be
gan tu* troubles, lie backed his horses and
luck went back on him. Recently how
ever, be made a few bold coups and has
some idd thousands of dollars that he can
lay his hands on.
Fred Taral has. however, a beautife'
mansion at One Hundred and Twenty i X
street and Leuox avenue io.
w bicb ho puid *27,000 in cash. He spou
*10,600 in furnishing and fitting it up, going
so far even as to construct a handsome
Turkish bath.
WHAT "CULL” HOLLAND THINKS OF IT.
In an attempt to solve the etuguia as
to tbe final lodgment of the vast si.ms spent
upun the turf 1 interviewed last week six
of tne men most Interested in the sport.
First 1 took a player, the famous “Cull”
Holland of Albany, than whom no more dar
ing or persistent bettor, not eveu excepting
"Pittsburg Bhll.” ever breathed.
"O, tbe associations and the bookmakers
get the liou’s share of the money,” said
"Cuil" promptly iu respouse to my inquiry.
“Race horse owners, if they are flv and at
tend to their business and not trust it to
subordinates, too, rake off some coin. Bel
mont and i-onllard never gave their atten
tion directly to tbeir stables and Ihe result
is that tbey lost money. You know the old
saying that wbeu the cat’s away the mice
will play. Trainers, grooms or eveu staule
boys w rk as faithfully when the master is
abseut as when he is on the ground. Men
like the Dwyer brothers and Hankins aud
Camppell pay direct and immediate atten
tion to their business. They personally
superintend the training of their horse- aud
the result is tbey reap a rich harvest at the
end of tbe season.
"Fool room keepers make some money,
too, but not as much us people tbmk. They
have to pay a frightful rent aud are at
enurmous expense, besides, in the way of
help arid other matters.
“Now as to players, more win than l
popularly supn sod. I cau explain that in
this nay. Every time a player losses he
lets people know it, hut wbeu he wins be
keeps mum and gets out of a pool room a.
quickly as possible, lie is afraid to let the
boys know that be wi • lest they 'touch'
him. But to bet successfully a man tnus
study horses as be w uld tbe details of auy
business. He must know their record, keep
track of their daily performances and ootu
paro them with those of other hags. For in
stance, ‘Pittsburg Phil’ aud Mike Dwyer
have the pedigree of every promising horse iu
tbeoouutry at tbeir fingers’ends. They ar
walking encyclopedias of equine litera
ture, aud watch carefully tbeir daily per
formance* aud make a mental comparison
wiib those of other brutes. That is why
they are so successful iu picking up big
wagers. It is knowledge with them and
not luck. Tbe man who win must culti
vate snow ledge aud trust to “luck”
“PITTSBURG P lb's" OPINION.
“Pittsburg Phil’ jjideorge W. Smith),
who dr pped mto the oturtevani house dur
ing the latter part of this interesting ds •
course, app. roved in tho main the findings
ot the ’Pudge,” as “Cub” Holland is some
times called. He differed with him, how
ever, regarding the number of players who
had wou. It was very eiuad iu tus opmou.
Almost everybo iy ante iu the racing busi
ness bad a better show tu catch the coin.
H. a. Mclntyre, secretary of tne Coney
Island Jockey Club, is a courteous, genial
gentleman, but wltbal as dlplotnalio as
Chesterfield. He is always obliging, but,
to use the vernacular, “gives nothing away”
but the business of any corpo. alien with
wmch be is connected. Racing associations,
he told me, do not strive to make money,
but to promote honest sport. Tbey always
strive, however, to meet expenses and will
incur no ouligatiom tbey oauunt fulfill.
Bume years they bob up serenely on tbe
right side ot tbe ledger with plenty of cash
ou hand. In other years they barely come
out ahead. Tbe immense purses they oiler
to secure the best talent equine tbe market
affords, tbe employment of starters, judges
aud other high priced offiqals, together with
tbe great outlays caused by tbe rental or
purchase of a large expanse of territory for
track purposes, coupled with a hundred at
her incidental expenditures, eat up tbe tidy
sums of money taken in at ibe gate,
JKRE DUNN HAYS OWNBKH GET LITTLE.
Jere Dunn, famous the world over us a
horseman and all round sport, stoutly avers
that tbe owner of nugs does not by a long
shut capture tbe money that is lying around
loose. Jere has hud stables ot trolt rs and
runners, aud once with his trim little mare
Village Maid made $40,000 off a SI,OOO in
vestment. The mare was u4O to 1 shot,
and hardly anybody but Jere thought well
enought of her to place a dollar ou her
ohances.
"Horse owners," said Jere to me, "don’t
mako tbe tons of gold people seem to think
tbey do. Rich men like nr. Belmont and
Mr. Lorillard bad magnificent staples, yet
in tbe last few years had such bard luck
that they decided to sell out. Fred Ueb
hardt, too, who is a young Croesus, oould not
stand tbe pace oven with sucu a splendid
horse os Eole in bis stable, und be, too, sold
out. A few borse owners make money, but
the majority do not. They race simply out
of love of sport.
“ ■ Wbo makes the money?’ you ask. Why
everybody gets a crack at it—associations,
bookmakers, pool room keepers, jockeys—
and even tbe players. There is one good
thing about tbe sport, if no other—it keeps
the money iu circulation, and when tbat is
floating around some portion of tho commu
nity must be benefited.”
the most successful jockey on the Ameri
can turf, Fred Tar il, was the last to ex
plained the situation. He is u humorist and
looks upon tbe bright side of life. “I tbink
tne public gets tbe money,” be said with
tbe ear eatness of a lawyer wbo bas a bad
case and is trying to mesmerize the jury.
“First the association has to lease its
grounds from one citizen, the pool room
keeper iu town leases bis rooms from
another and the public at large come down
hero and charge upon the pool boxe . But se
riously. I think it is an almost even distribu
tion, Tbe money is spent aud everybody,
including the putilic, gets a | art of it."
Further inquiry iu otlur quarters tailed
to throw any light upon the enigma, and
the question, “Where does the money go?”
still remains unanswered.
“Hee tbat po >r man on the sidewalk there*
Weil, tbe result of all Ids work for two
weeks bs 1 eeu destroyed by fire."
■‘Too bad."
“Not a bit. He is a kindling splitter.”
Chicago Mews Record.
Cook (to policeman)—Which will you
'ave, Robert —some cold mutton or some
rabbit pie? Policeman—Well, dariln’, I
shouldn’t like to make either of ’em jealous,
so I’ll 'ave both! -Rick-Me—Up.
When Baby wasisick, wmgavelher Castoria.
When sbo wns-a Child, she cried for Castoria.
When she became Mias, she clut-g to C .'Vitoria.
When cte hod Children, ahogjavj IheneCastoria,
MEDICAL.
CURE^^U^N
AMD
BLOOD DISEASES.
I’hys'. lAIIA Mi, lore* P. I*. P I* R S|>U:.til<i *Xni>Cr2lo7T
•nd i>r><-rib itwlih groat satisfaction for tit* ourat of *ll ;
fTTi-s and I'ago of I'ninar", and TftUfT '
__ __
Cures scrofulA.
Syphilis, Svy-Mlitla ltlnummiUoi.
Sores, Glandular Swelling*, Rheumatism. Malaria, old
Chronic W icara that bar* resitted *ll treatment, Catanft, I
RP.F. UmKbu
TMMMaaTTJcMniit^T^ronTST^alnafSTJaßßplllSirßSPj
curlftl Potion, Tetter, Scald Heed, aw., *tc.
P. P. P.
Cures rheumatism
build in# OJ) tho
Ladles whoso tyitems ara potsonad and whoa* blood la In
ari^in£iir^oondi!Uonjjtoa^U^iianstru*l^rr^ulwltja*^Jg*
IRIS
p3!uT!arlj^^D3i#d™ , 3y"^s*won!J2^Tr , Tsn?y ■■smur
claiming propertlaa of P. P. I\, Prickly Aah, Pdk* Root
anil Potassium.
Cui&dyspepsiAi
LIPP&AN BROS-, Proprietor!,
Druggists, Lippiuau’g Block, RAVASSAH, QAa
GENTS FURNISHING GOODS.
EASTER COMES ON APRIL
2, DIB YOU KNOW IT? .
And Being 8o Near. Wo Offer Our Trade
JCaster* - Hats.
Dunlap makes in extra light
weight; the Soft Fedora, all colors.
Boys' Mackinaw Hats, and Chil
dren’s Hats in variety,
Our assortment of Scarfs is of the
newest patterns and designs, and
reasonable in price.
Athletic and Bicycle Goods,
Sweaters, etc., in assortment.
Spring Underwear in Gauze, Nain
sook, Muslin, Jeans or Balbriggan.
Don't forget that for Easter Hats,
or Neckwear, or for Men's Furnish
ings for Spring, we are, as usual,
prepared to supply your wants.
L a F A. JEI ,
Hatter arid Furnisher,
132 BROUGHTON STREET
FLOUR.
Save yourself and
spare your temper by
using
HECKERS’
SELF - RAISING
FLOUR
for biscuits.
UKF.D MEAL.
Our Own Cow Feed Has No Equal.
TELEPHONE 883.
Hay, Grain, Bran and Every
Description of Feed
AT 156 BAY STREET.
t39 , “Send for Price Current.
T. J. DAYIS.
PLUMBER.
FINK L,lNTifi OF
US FIXTLRES ANI) GLOBES
L. A. MCCARTHY’S,
4kt! DRAYTON SVH
1 ' .. 1 ""Bg
JAOR KENT, th- cneap columns ot the Moaa
D isa News at "one oent a word” for eaoh in
sertion ; an excellent mode of advertising.
15