RECOLLECTIONS OF A LONDON DETECTIVE.-(Continued.)

Manawatu Herald, Volume III, Issue III, 19 May 1891, Page 4

RECOLLECTIONS OF A LONDON DE-TECTIVE.-(Continued.)

the sitting-room, and which he had never before worn*in that house. One of my mates thought that the changing of the Clothes had been for the purpose of disguise : »nd I had to admit that that was the only part of his proceedings which puzzled me. I coulS understand him leaving his valuables, but when did, a man trouble to change his clothes to dlfeimit suicide ? The search for Hans was pretty keen in the metropolis ; outside of that not so very Strong. So far as we could discover, he had pot left for the Continent by any of the trains. Among the theatrical people, and his former tailoring associates, with all of whom he had been a favourite, the hunt was hot, but it ended in failure. Hans either was not in hiding with these friends, or so well concealed that we were powerless. t /it this stage of the case, after giving the facts more study, I summed up the peculiarities by which Hans was likely to be traced into three— his poverty and shabby clothes ; his foreign accent and defective English, and his fine voice. Of the three, I gave least weight to the last, as singing was the last thing I expected such a sadhearted man to indulge in ; but a detective makes many mistakes, and that was one of mine. Shabbincss and foreign accent are common as day in London and elsewhere, but a voice like Hans' is rare indeed. The voice was the first trace we got of the man, fend it came about thus— I had to take a bird-catcher on suspicion of having been concerned in a burglary in the suburbs — simply because he had been 'seen near the house, shortly before the robbery. I had not the slightest idea of him being guilty, for hard as the life of these fellows is, they seldom eke out their scanty earnings by crime. Indeed, they have often told me that it is the fresh air, and the lonely woods and coverts, and the tramping and half-gipsy-like life which keeps them at it, and lures them back even after leaving it for a better occupation. Sam, as the snarer of birds was called, in the course of his statement of how he had filled up his time on a certain day, let out that he had shared his dinner with a German tramp at a spot about fifteen miles from London. "The feller was so wearied, and broken, and hungry that I couldn't sec him pass," Sam said, "and so 1 hollered arter him, and went sacks with him. He was a fair, softspoken chap, and seemed very sad and depressed, so I axed him when he had done if he could sing me a song. Not that I care much for singing, but 1 thought it would cheer him up, and make him believe he was payin' me for the grub I'd give him. Would you believe it ! the man had a voice like a worn n— only richer and more charminger. A woman?— there never was a woman like it — cathedral singing's nothing to it. 'Twas more like what you imagine a hangel's to be— though goodness knows I've little chance of ever hearin" them sing." That was the substance of Sam's statement so far as the voice is concerned, but it led me to bring out a portrait of Hans' which was found in a brooch of the murdered actress, and the bird-catcher instantly identified it as that of the rare singer he had entertained to dinner. To Sam the wanderer had admitted that he was making his way on foot to Hull, with the intention of getting thence to the Continent, though he confessed that he had not a penny to pay for his passage. " A poor, consumptive-looking cove, who'll never get half the distance," said Sam in conclusion. " Seemed ready for a coffin when I saw him, whatever he is now." I was out of London within the hour after getting this clue, and the same evening I came upon a distinct proof that Hans was still alive and singing. He had stopped at a small town on the way and electrified the inhabitants by singing in the main street after dark. He got a good deal of money, and some musical people who heard him and noticed his wonderful gifts tried to get into conversation with him, but in vain. "the wanderer would neither speak to them nor accompany them to their homes, but slipped away in the darkness and disappeared. Disappeared— that is, dipped right down out of sight, leaving not a trace or a clue for me to follow by. I went forward and back and all round without coming on his trail — that is, his voice. Something must have come in his way to alarm him. I had sent on a message to Hull, and every inlet and outlet there was well watched and guarded, and at length, completely at fault, I went on there and had a hunt round among the Germans. Those I got amongst were positive in their opinion that no-such fellow had been in Hull. They were too positive. I could only conclude that he had been there, and that they knew of it. I was pretty sure, by the eagerness of one man to send me off to the Continent, that Hans had not gone in that direction ; and I concluded that his course would probably be northward, as it had been hitherto — the furthest away from London the better. I concluded also that he would hug the shore, in ths hope of getting off across the water. I set off in a hopeful mood, but had not gone far when I was recalled by a telegram from Lincoln. The voice had been heard there, ftnd had attracted the attention of an oxganist, who tried hard to secure it for his choir'; but it was .gone before the police heard of it, and all they could do was to send word to me. From this it was evident that Hans had doubled on his own track and gone southward. His wanderings appeared to be much more purposeless than I had expected ; but he still had the rare, knack of vanishing completely, after getting a little money by his voice. When I got to Lincoln and saw the organist, he gave me a most pitiable description of the hunted man. His bodily condition was bad enough; his boots worn to rags, and his clothes muddy and torn ; bat his depression and despair were more conspicuous.- All the spirit and life had gone out of him, and' he cared' for nothing but to go on — on— on. He wanted to get across the water ; to lay his head on a certain green grave in the Vaterland and be at rest. That was all the organist could get out of him. He would not have shelter or food ; even sympathy he threw off with a land of sweet dignity ; and some money pressed on him by the organist he would accept only as a loan. If he had been to Hull he must have found the way blocked seaward, and he could not have gone through many streets without seeing the police bill, with the words " Murder," and " A German named Karl Hans," glaring at him from hoardings and dead walls. From Lincoln I followed him westward to Matlock, where he had sung once, and thence he made his way north to Sheffield. At Sheffield I lost all trace of him, and the secret of his sudden disappearance never dawned upon me till he had left the town, though the whole place was full of bills and posters advertising a company of Christy Minstrels, the greatest galaxy of black stars and comic niggers the world had ever produced. This wonderful troupe of side-splitting mcrriraen left behind them in Sheffield one of their number, who had disgraced them by flopping off his chair on to the platform, so drunk that he could not get up again. I met the discharged man in a public-hous« and heard all his story, from which it appeared that he had been. very, badly treated, and got rid of only to make way for another man whom no one knew anything .about. The new artist- was to.appear in the next trwn as the " champion treble singer of the world— the only worthy:, successor* to thi t ßwtdiib nightingale, Jenny Lind/^. , (To be Continued*)