Part 23 (2/2)

”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 s.h.i.+eld 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.”

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