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THE MYSTERIOUS PASSENGER

THE great American liner, the City of Baltimore, which had been lying in the Mersey all ready for sea, had blown her final warning whistle; all visitors had been cleared from her decks, her anchors were tripped, and her mighty engines were beginning to pulse and throb through every fibre, timber, and plate of the floating city, when the scream of a tug's whistle was heard, and a tiny tug was seen to put forth from the landing-stage, and to tear through the yellow waters of the muddy river at her best speed towards the slowly-moving ship. She was flying a signal at her mast-head, and this signal caused the captain of the liner to telegraph 'Dead slow' to his engine-room. In a few minutes the tug snorted and puffed up alongside the City of Baltimore, looking in comparison like a barnacle against the side of a whale. From the liner a rope was thrown and dexterously caught on board the tug, which steamed up right amidships of the big vessel, from which a rope ladder was lowered, and the gruff voice of the captain sang out: 'Now, then there, bear a hand. Make haste, please.'

A little, dapper, agile man sprang from the rail of the tug on to the rope ladder, mounting swiftly, and, like a practised hand, he stepped lightly on to the big ship's deck, and was received by the purser and one of the officers, while a crowd of passengers, whose curiosity had been aroused, pressed eagerly round to get a glimpse of the last passenger, who had only saved his passage apparently by the ' skin of his teeth.' A leather portmanteau was pulled up after him | | 223 from the tug, which was instantly cast adrift, and headed back for the landing-stage. The engines of the liner now revolved more rapidly, and the great vessel stately and grace-fully proceeded towards the sea.

The passenger who had arrived by the tug was a little man, with small piercing eyes, which were almost hidden at times when his brow was contracted. He was neatly dressed, and wore a broad-brimmed soft felt hat. He requested the purser to conduct him at once to the captain, as he bore a letter from the owners, and must deliver it at once. This statement was, of course, a passport to the captain's presence, and a quarter of an hour later the purser was summoned, and to him the captain spoke thus:

'Mr. Arnold, you must find a berth for this gentleman, Mr. Walter Bilby. A berth for himself, you understand?'

'But, sir,' protested the purser, 'I have not a vacant berth in the ship.'

'Mr. Arnold, I said you must find one.'

The purser knew the skipper too well to risk his position by attempting to argue against a matter which the skipper had said ' must' be done. So the worried purser went away scratching his head, and he held a consultation with the chief steward, and, as two heads are always better than one, the problem was ultimately solved by the steward himself giving up his cabin to the stranger, while he himself under-took to sleep on the floor in the purser's room.

The City of Baltimore was unusually crowded, for it was the autumn season, and Americans who had been ' doing Europe ' were flocking back to their country in crowds. There were over a hundred passengers in the saloon alone, and upwards of five hundred second and third class. When the Baltimore had cleared the Tuskar, and began to face the swell of the sea, the majority of the passengers disappeared, and the stewards were in great request. But dapper little Mr. Bilby was evidently a seasoned traveller, as he was in no ways affected, and, smoking a big and strong cigar, he paced up and down the | | 224 quarter-deck, in spite of the roll and pitch, with perfect ease.

Naturally there was much curiosity on the part of his fellow-voyagers to know who this late passenger was; evidently a person of some importance, or the big liner would not have waited for him. But Mr. Walter Bilby was not a communicative person, and he showed no disposition to satisfy the curiosity. Nevertheless, he was voted a pleasant fellow, for he could sing a good song and tell a good story. He did not exclude himself from the smoking-room, nor did he object to take a hand at cards, though all efforts to draw him out failed. But though this was the case as far as he was concerned, he was himself enabled to learn something of a good many of his companions, for he had a wonderful, insinuating, and artful way that was perfectly irresistible. An apparently chance remark, or carelessly asked question, drew a considerable amount of information from others. The impression he created is best illustrated by the following remarks of one man to another as the two stood talking on the deck that evening:

'I say, isn't that fellow Bilby a curious cuss ? His eyes are precious small, and almost invisible sometimes, but upon my soul they make one feel as if they were peering into your brains. He seems to me the sort of fellow that would worm your heart's secrets out of you, but it's very little you would learn about him in return.'

Man number two acquiesced in the general correctness of this criticism, and the two agreed that Mr. Walter Bilby was somewhat of a mystery.

Amongst the lady passengers in the saloon was one who puzzled and mystified her sex no less than Mr. Bilby puzzled his. She was of somewhat masculine type, as her features were rather large. But she had a good complexion, so delicate and fresh that it was the envy of the women. Her eyes were blue, her hair, of which she had a great quantity, was tawny in hue. She had delicate and beautifully shaped hands, and wore a number of diamond rings. | | 225 She occupied a berth by herself, and studiously held aloof from all her fellows. Her age might have been guessed at anything from twenty-five to forty. She spent her days in a deck chair, and seemed interested in a book, and her manner was so disdainful, so cold, so repellent, so stand-offish, that the women by tacit consent avoided her. Some of the men, however, tried to ingratiate themselves, but succeeded no better, with one exception. Mr. Bilby, to the astonishment of all, so far overcame her reserve that occasionally he sat beside her, and they chatted and laughed, and two or three times he carried her wraps down to her cabin for her.

One morning, after she had made herself comfortable in her deck chair on the leeside of the hurricane house, Mr. Bilby came on deck, and spying her out approached her. She was known on board as Miss Veronica Broadwood. The following conversation between her and Bilby was overheard by some of the other passengers:

'I wish, Miss Broadwood, you would do a little favour for me.'

'With pleasure if I can. What is it?'

'Oh, I am sure you can if you will try. It's a very small matter. I have a smoking-cap for which I have a great liking. It was given to me and elaborately embroidered by a young lady to whom I was much attached. By some carelessness I have managed to unravel a great deal of this embroidery, and I am much distressed. Will you kindly put it on again ? I shall be so greatly obliged if you will.'

Miss Broadwood laughed, though there was a troubled expression on her face.

'My dear sir,' she exclaimed, 'it's absolutely beyond me—'

'Surely not.'

'Yes, it is indeed.'

'But it is only a question of sewing it on the velvet in accordance with the rest of the pattern.'

'That may be, but I cannot sew.'

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'Cannot sew?'

'No. I hate it.'

'Do you never use the needle?'

'Never.'

'How strange! I thought every woman was more or less clever with the needle.'

'A popular error, Mr. Bilby. At any rate, if that is a general rule, then I am the one exception.'

'Well, well, you do astonish me. Why, I should have thought those shapely and delicate hands of yours would have been capable of executing the most exquisite needle-work.'

'If my hands have given you that impression, I am afraid they are deceptive.'

'Obviously—obviously. Well, I am sorry. I must see if I cannot get some other lady to oblige me.'

'Oh, you will have no difficulty in doing that.'

'How do you know?'

'Because you are so fascinating. What woman could resist you?'

'You've resisted me any way.'

'Don't say that.'

'But you won't oblige me.'

'Haven't I told you that I can't use the needle at all ? ' answered Miss Broadwood, with a certain sharpness which indicated that the subject must be dismissed. Bilby took the hint, and something else was talked about.

The City of Baltimore was a very comfortable but not a fast boat, and she usually took nearly ten days to complete the passage to New York. During the last day or two Mr. Bilby, it was noticed, became more than ever attentive to Miss Broadwood, which called forth from one lady the remark—made to another young lady—'I declare, that fellow Bilby is flirting with that she-cat, Miss Broad-wood. Well, what he can see to admire in her, goodness knows—the stuck-up hussy. I'll bet she's some adventuress on the look-out for a fellow with money.'

This was a little spiteful, but feminine, though it was | | 227 but an echo of the sentiment of the rest of the ladies in the floating community.

As the vessel proceeded up East River to her berth Mr. Bilby became even more closely attentive to Miss Broad-wood. He wished to know if he could be of use to her. Might he inquire where she was going to stay?

She thanked him very much, but she would not trouble him in any way. She did not quite know where she was going to. She expected friends to meet her, and they would make all arrangements. Possibly she would only stay in New York a few hours.

When the vessel was berthed and the custom-house officers were examining the passengers' baggage, Mr. Bilby strolled to the section where the ladies' baggage was being subjected to scrutiny. Miss Broadwood, unlike most of her sex, had only a comparatively small box. Nevertheless the officers were turning everything out of it, while the lady herself stood by, looking pale and anxious. For a woman of position, as she seemed to be, she had an astonishingly meagre and scant wardrobe, which caused one of the men to exclaim ironically:

'Well, madam, I guess European shopkeepers ain't much better off for your visit, and the revenue of this country won't benefit by your trip.'

Miss Broadwood did not reply, though she looked very indignant. She peremptorily ordered the man to put all her things back. That done, she locked her trunk, and instructed one of the licensed porters to convey it for her to an address she gave in Twenty-Fifth Street. She then joined two gentlemanly-looking men who had evidently been waiting for her, and the three drove in a carriage to Delmonico's, where they dined sumptuously, the party being swelled by two other men and two ladies, who also arrived in a carriage.

The next morning pretty early Miss Broadwood called in a state of excitement at the chief Police Bureau to coin-plain that on the previous evening she had handed her trunk to a licensed porter, No. 107, for conveyance to an address | | 228 in Twenty-Fifth Street, but he had failed to deliver the box, and she was terribly distressed about it. The officer on duty asked her if she was sure she had given her property into the charge of a licensed man. She said there was no mistake about it. She looked at his badge, and he showed her his licence. The officer was puzzled. All the licensed men were vigilantly superintended, and robbery by one of them was almost an unknown thing. However, he promised that very active steps should be made at once to get on the track of the man and recover the lost trunk.

Miss Broadwood was in a great state of mental commotion, and declared that she would pay a reward of a hundred dollars if the box was at once restored to her with its contents intact. The officer said he would do his best, and communicate with her immediately he heard anything. On this understanding Miss Broadwood took her departure, looking disconsolate and downcast. She had not been gone very long before another curious thing happened. The officer received a fresh visitor, and this time it was Mr. Bilby. This gentleman remained at the Bureau for over an hour, and had a long interview with the chief. Then he went away.

In the course of that day Miss Broadwood sent repeated, urgent messages to the station to inquire if her lost property had been heard of. To the last message an answer was returned to the effect that the police hoped to give her some information about the trunk in a few hours.

The principal houses in Twenty-Fifth Street were very imposing, and proportionately as high-rented as they were high architecturally. They were let out in flats, and occupied by people of means and position. The address Miss Broadwood had given was at one of the most imposing buildings in the thoroughfare, on the third floor of a ten-storeyed structure. Night had closed in when a dozen men assembled at the main entrance. They had come in twos and threes from different directions. There was a hurried consultation amongst them, carried on in low tones. Then almost noiselessly they filed up the stairs to floor three, and | | 229 gathered about the door on which was an obtrusive brass plate setting forth that the flat was the residence of 'Mr. Aaron Gristwold.' One of the men, who seemed to be the leader, rang the bell. In a few minutes the door was opened by a black manservant.

'Is Mr. Gristwold in?' was the query.

'I guess he is, but he's mighty busy. What do you want?'

'To see him,' was the curt answer, and the leader, brushing aside the nigger, swept in and was followed by the others. Several of them had revolvers in their hands. One man kept the nigger quiet, and the others marched down the passage, pushed open a door, disclosing a brilliantly-lighted room, filled with men and three or four women, including Miss Broadwood.

'Hands up!' cried the leader.

The party thus suddenly disturbed were thrown into a state of consternation. The table was littered with papers, and some of the party made a grab at them, but the intruders presented their revolvers, and in a stern, commanding voice the leader exclaimed: 'Hands up, or by God we'll shoot!' Miss Broadwood suddenly drew a small revolver from her pocket and placed it to her mouth ; but before she could fire, one of the intruders rushed at her and seized her, wresting the weapon away.

The leader was the celebrated New York detective Josh Bryant, and the others were policemen, who, thanks to ' Mr. Bilby,' otherwise Tyler Tatlock, had thus swept into their net a nest of notorious scoundrels, including one of the cleverest forgers in the world, Jack Humphrey by name, but who had passed under as many aliases as there are days in the year, the latest being 'Miss Broadwood.'

To explain how this dramatic scene had been brought about it is necessary to state that a large number of United States bonds had been sold in London. These bonds, however, were forgeries. Tatlock was employed to trace the delinquent, and he obtained information to the effect that a man named 'Walter Nolan,' who had been staying at | | 230 one of the large West End hotels, had sold the bonds. There was every reason to believe that Nolan was the much-wanted Jack Humphrey, who had been on the stage and was accounted an excellent actor. He was a little, effeminate man, with singularly delicate-looking white hands, and had made his mark as the impersonator of female characters, his voice being very like a woman's. When Tatlock went to the hotel he found the bird had flown. He was traced to the Euston Station, and there was every reason to believe he had gone to Liverpool, and, as he was known to be unsurpassed in the art of disguising himself, it was feared that he might get clear away.

But those who thought so reckoned without their Tatlock. Humphrey was known to have his principal quarters in New York, and to be the head of a gang there of as clever swindlers as ever preyed upon society. Tatlock surmised that the fellow would take the first boat sailing for America. That boat was the City of Baltimore. Tatlock rushed to the office of the owners, and secured the list of passengers. It was a long list, and did not help him. Yet instinctively he felt sure that his man would be on board, for, knowing that the scent was hot, he would hasten to get out of the country where the hounds were baying at his heels, so he made known his business to the owners. There wasn't a moment to lose, as the vessel was weighing anchor. But Tatlock rushed down in a cab to the landing-stage in the company of an official of the firm, who took ' Mr. Bilby' off in one of the tugs, flying a private signal to the captain that he must take this last passenger on board and find him a berth in the saloon. That order was law to the captain, and he obeyed it.

Tatlock had not been long on board before he began to suspect that there was something strange about Miss Broad-wood. He shadowed her, and at last hit upon the clever device of asking her to do some sewing for him. Her confession that she could not use the needle convinced him that 'Miss Broadwood' was not a woman. In the meantime | | 231 he took the captain into his confidence, and when the ship reached the East River a message was sent to the custom-house officials to thoroughly search Miss Broadwood's trunk. Although it contained a good many articles of feminine attire there were some men's clothes, and several coils of different coloured hair. But acting on advice the officers asked no questions about this extraordinary circumstance.

When the licensed porter had started on his journey with the trunk to the address given he was overtaken by a detective from the custom-house and ordered to proceed to a police depot. There the trunk was subjected to a critical examination. It was found to be beautifully and ingeniously constructed, with double sides and lids which were well calculated to escape any but the closest scrutiny. These sides were lined with a quantity of forged bonds, banknotes, and mortgage deeds, which no doubt would have been palmed off on unsuspecting victims had it not been for Tatlock. As it was, the New York police, thanks to Tatlock, captured most of the notorious gang, and though Tatlock had not the satisfaction of conveying ' Miss Broadwood' back to England, as the rascal had to be tried first of all in the United States for crimes committed there, he was warmly congratulated on breaking up the exceedingly clever band of wretches whose depredations had been carried on for years, during which they had obtained immense sums of money.

The ruling spirit of the band was unquestionably Jack Humphreys of the many aliases, and on both sides of the Atlantic there was a sigh of relief that this marvellously clever and artistic swindler had been laid by the heels at last. In recognition of the valuable service rendered in this remarkable case Tyler Tatlock was publicly presented with a purse of gold, some plate, and a magnificently-illuminated address, subscribed for by merchants and bankers both in London and New York.