Mr. Barton is at breakfast in his snug little house down Brompton way. Mr. Barton enjoys his breakfast, and eats largely. Mrs. Barton does the same. It may be here observed that Mr. Barton enjoys all his meals, and that Mrs. Barton in this particular strictly follows his example. And yet there was nothing in Mr. Barton’s appearance to lead an observer to believe that he cared particularly for his meals or was a great eater. He was a large boned, ungainly, awkward man, with long ill-shaped limbs; he carried himself stiff and upright, and moved his head as if his gaunt long neck were encased in a stiff military stock. His hair had been black and bristly, but it was now thin and grey; his cheeks were closely shaved, and his face was hard and passionless. Altogether, Mr. 222Barton’s appearance was not prepossessing. He was a man whose age it would have been next to impossible to guess, but he really was about fifty-five. Mr. Barton was a Scotchman. He had come up to London young, and had, through the interest of some relations, obtained a situation in the Detective Police, at that time known as the Bow Street Runners; and a sharp, active, intelligent detective he turned out. The stiffness, which he had now so long put on that it had become a second nature to him, was originally assumed when engaged in London upon ordinary duties, in order to render detection the more difficult when he was in disguise. Although somewhat heavy and uncouth in appearance, he was a young man active and lissome, and, as he had shown on several occasions when he had been found out, and had been obliged to fight for his life, was possessed of great strength as well as activity. But situations like these were not Mr. Barton’s forte; he could, if necessary, fight desperately for his life, but he was by no means fond of putting himself into positions where such an eventuality was probable. The authorities at Bow Street were well aware of this 223weakness, and generally selected him in researches in which shrewdness and patience were required rather than courage. In these they knew he was to be thoroughly relied upon, and would hunt down his game with the unerring sagacity of a hound. Even here he failed sometimes, losing his clue unaccountably, and that just at a time when success seemed certain. The authorities happened upon one of these occasions to obtain proofs that it was not his sagacity but his honesty which had been at fault, and that a heavy purse had proved sufficient to render his eyesight temporarily defective. Thereupon Mr. Barton was dismissed the force in disgrace. This was fifteen years back; soon after that time he had married.
Mrs. Barton’s figure was in the strongest possible contrast to that of her husband. She was a large woman and enormously stout. Mrs. Barton was a Jewess, the widow of a Hebrew clothier in Houndsditch, who had left her a small fortune. She had been very handsome when young, but not the slightest trace of her good looks remained in her fat, coarse face. She was nearly as old as her husband, but there was 224not a white hair in the black bands on her low square forehead. What had induced Mrs. Barton to marry her present husband was a riddle which none of her friends could solve. It seemed, however, that he had been employed in some enquiry in which her late husband was interested, and she was a woman who could keenly appreciate the shrewdness and energy of the rather uncouth Scotchman. At any rate, when the days of mourning had expired, the widow signified her willingness to lay aside her weeds in his favour. As Robert Barton had just left the force, and was looking out for a fresh opening, he gladly accepted her offer, although even at that time, at five-and-thirty, the widow was, to say the least, large, and her good looks had completely flown. Indeed, he hesitated not a moment. He had saved up some money, and with that and the widow’s fortune and connection, he thought he saw his way very clearly before him. It is true that her friends were extremely angry with her for marrying a Christian; she became as it were excommunicate, and cut off from all participation in the service of the synagogue. This feeling, however, 225in no way interfered with their willingness to work with her in business, and as she had been a popular woman among her class during the lifetime of her first husband, her connections, with the exception of a few of the strictest set, soon forgave her her marriage out of the pale. A few weeks after his marriage Mr. Barton opened an office in the City, which he entitled “Barton’s Private Research and Detection Office.” In a very short time he began to do a good business, and once or twice made especially happy hits—succeeding in tracing stolen property, and in ferreting out an absconding clerk—when the regular detective force had given up the task in despair. After this his success was a certainty, and it was soon apparent that he had means of obtaining information altogether beyond the ordinary police sources of intelligence. Here it was that Mrs. Barton’s connection came into play. The whole of the agents he employed belonged to her persuasion, and so numerous and active were they, that scarce an attempt was made to pass a stolen note without Barton being informed of it. Even on the Continent, at Hamburg and other places where Jews congregate, 226he had numerous correspondents; and as most of the stolen property was likely, sooner or later, to find its way there, the information with which he was furnished enabled him frequently to make the most surprising captures in England. It must not be supposed that these men betrayed themselves or each other, or that they restored stolen property which they had purchased. They simply let him know that they had become possessors of it, and gave him such clues as would enable him to trace the thief. Besides this they arranged through him the terms for restoration of bills, and various other securities, and even for the recovery of bank-notes. There were, indeed, occasional murmurs heard against him. It seemed, men said, that although Barton was certain to bring the guilt home to the smaller class of delinquents, pilfering shop-boys, forgers for small amounts, or defaulting collectors, yet in cases of great importance, where perhaps the absconding clerk had made off with very large amounts, his zeal in following upon the scent, though apparently very great, was rewarded with singular ill-success.
Robert Barton’s business was not confined to 227the discovery of frauds; many of his researches were of a far more complex and delicate nature. Wives who sought missing husbands; broken-hearted fathers, missing daughters; claimants to property, who set him to work to find the lost link in their chain of evidence; husbands and wives who sought proofs of each other’s infidelity:—all came to Mr. Barton, and on the whole they were well satisfied with him. In these researches he seldom took any active part, contenting himself with sitting in the office, holding the threads of all the nets which his active subordinates were spreading round their victims. Occasionally, however, when the fit took him, or the affair was too important to be trusted to any hands but his own, he would put on a disguise, lay aside his stiff carriage, and transforming himself so completely that no one would recognise him, sally out upon his search.
“What have you got to-day, Barton—anything important?”
Robert Barton took out his pocket-book and examined the entries.
“Marriage certificate between John Rogers and Mary Hare, somewhere about 1792, probably in 228London. That’s a mere matter of sending circulars to all the parish clerks, offering a reward.—Register of baptism of William Pollard, 1822. Liverpool or Manchester.—Trace and recover notes and bills in Borough Bank robbery. That, of course, I cannot move in at present. It is a large sum, and I have no doubt, from the lot I believe are in it, that the notes will go over to Hamburg. I must write to Levy there to get hold of them and hold them for a time, and then I must find out how much they will give for them.—John Bell, cashier, Latham and Prodgers’, defaulter; determined to punish; offer ￡400. I shall soon lay him by the legs.—Evidence against Mr. Halfall, Bristol. That is rather a delicate matter. I must send Isaacs down, he is just the man for that; the fellow is so good-looking, he gets round the servant girls in no time. It is just nine, I must be off.”
“Mind, Barton, don’t forget sharp six is the dinner-hour; you were ten minutes late yesterday, and the joint was overdone.”
In a few minutes Mr. Barton was on the roof of his ‘bus on his way to the city. As he went 229along he sat grave and immoveable, scrutinizing the passers-by, as if he considered they all possessed secrets he might be some day called upon to investigate.
Mr. Barton’s office was in one of the narrow streets leading off Cheapside, and consisted of two rooms on the first floor, the one a general waiting-room, the other his private office. In the former two lads were at work at a desk, copying from the “Gazette” the bankrupt and insolvent list.
“Has any one been here?”
“One gentleman, sir; he left his card.”
Mr. Barton looked at it. “Did he say he would call again?”
“He left word would you go round directly you came in.”
The card was that of the manager of a large banking firm.
“Ask any one who calls to wait, I shall not be gone many minutes,” and Mr. Barton took his way to the Bank.
On his sending in his name, he was at once shown into the manager’s room. The manager, an elderly man with spectacles, was evidently at 230the present time considerably ruffled and put out.
“Take a seat, Mr. Barton. A very unpleasant business has taken place, very much so, indeed. One of our clerks has made away with a great deal of money; we do not yet know the particulars; we only found it out yesterday afternoon. We sent for one of the books which he kept, as we wished to compare it with another; on doing so we discovered some extraordinary discrepancies; we sent down to him, but he was gone—had left immediately the book was taken up to us. We sent up to his house, but of course he had been in and gone out again. We put the police on his scent last night, but as I was coming up to town this morning, I remembered that you knew his face, as he was several times at your office about that case of forgery you followed up for us; his name was Symes—David Symes.”
“I remember, sir, a fair young man.”
“Just so; we shall offer two hundred pounds reward for his capture.”
“Very well, sir,” Mr. Barton said, “I will lose no time. I will telegraph down to my 231agents in Liverpool and Southampton. The police are sure to watch Dover and Folkestone, and I will myself see about the London shipping. If he is still in the country, depend upon it we shall catch him, sir.”
“Reuben,” Mr. Barton said to one of the lads in his office, upon his return, “go at once and see Jonah Moss and Levi, and tell them to go to all the slop shops in Houndsditch and eastward, and find out if a young man of about thirty, fair, with bluish eyes, and very little whisker, looking like a gentleman, bought any sea clothes down there last night. If so, bring me a description.”
“You need not trouble yourself, Mr. Barton,” a man said, coming into the office. “Perhaps I can give you the information you want.”
Mr. Barton looked at him steadily, then opened the door leading into the inner office, motioned to the man to enter, followed him in, and closed the door carefully after him. He then took another steady observation of his visitor. He was dressed as a sailor, with a few little bits of finery, a chain and rings, such as foreign sailors affect. He was swarthy and dark, 232with black hair falling in little curls. He was the beau ideal of a sailor from the shores of the Mediterranean.
“A very good get-up, Mr. Symes,” Mr. Barton said quietly, “really very creditable; pass muster very well in the street, but would hardly deceive anyone on the watch for you. Don’t you think it is just the least bit rash for you to come here?”
<............