GHOST CUT GHOST.

Waikato Times, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 3115, 2 July 1892, Page 1 (Supplement)

GHOST CUT GHOST.

You may imagine that during my career as a detective I have had some singular jobs given me to workon. There was one little piece of business that I always look back upon with a good deal of professional pride, although the end was a very sad one. It was a case of diamond cut diamond—ghost cut ghost, I call it—and took up my time for the better part of six months. About ten miles outside the limits of San Francisco —I'm speaking of about 20 years ago—stood a large farmhouse. This house had been vacant for three years before 1 saw it. The original owner had been murdered there, and the house and farm had passed into the hands of his brother, who was a New York gentleman. The New Yorker being unable to find a tenant for the house and farm which had passed into his hands, left them to take care of themselves. Now, a wooden house loft to take care of itself is in a very bad way, and though for a time the house was not without tenants, they were not such as took upon themselves smy responsibility for the necessary repairs. Parties of two or three miners occasionally stopped at the house ail night; these were its only tenants. But by-and-bye it was deserted by even these chance visitants, for word began to get about that the house was haunted. The panic caused by this report was such that for love or money you could not have hired a carpenter to enter it, even in the daytime. Of course, I heard of the haunted house; but as detectives are never called upon to arrest ghosts, I felt no particular curiosity about it.

One morning our chief put into my hands a case against an absconding secretary named Coffin. Coffin was the secretary of the White Mountain Mining Company. All the funds had been under his control, and he had got away with some ten thousand dollars belonging to the shareholders. My business was to 6nd him. His landlady told me that he had gone away without his trunks or clothes. The only things that were missing were a suit of clothes, a stout pair of boots, one or two clean shirts, some collars, a wide-awake hat, and a black valise. Ho had left the town at night. No one had witnessed his departure. Here was a good chance for a detective to work by the inductive process— from small beginnings to work on and on from clue to clue until he bagged his man. All that I could do was to work all the roads leading out of the town. After about a week of this I found a farm hand who had seen a foot passenger resembling my man the morning after he had absconded. I followed this trail, and soon became positive that I was on the right track.

Coffin was a shrewd fellow. He had planned the embezzlement and escape carefully, and had made elaborate preparations for playing what we call " chameleon game," that is for changing his clothes, headgear and face, at every stage. To this end he had possessed himself of a change or two of clothing, a stock of hats, and any quantity ef whiskers; and he rung the changes on these very frequently.

The black bag was the only thing that I had to rely upon as a pointer. Fortunatoly, a man on tramp with, a black bag was not in those days a common sight; and I had less difficulty in following Coffin's train than might be supposed. The first time I heard of him he was a smooth-faced gentleman, dressed in shabby black", looking for all the world like a broken down gambler going to retrieve his fortunes in some mining camp. The next; he was a middleaged 4 oc * ;or ) w ikh a flowing beard and heavy moustache. Later on, he was playing the role of a company promoter, offering to buy up mining claims on behalf of an English syndicate. He was then attired in a check 3uit, a light hat, and side whiskers. At this I obtained positive proof that I was following che right man, and I thought I should have no difficulty in laying my hand on Coffin. My calculations deceived me. I found that he was " doubling," and traced him almost as far as San Francisco. There I lost all trace of him as completely as if the earth had swallowed him up. Months afterwards, feeling vexed j and disappointed, I dropped into a saloon at the outskirts of the town to get a "liquor." I had had as pretty a dance after Coffin as any I man need want, but the interest of j the game supported me, and I was determined not to give it up. There were three or four miners in the bar, and one of those was evidently excited. His companions seemed to be ridiculing hisa, and ae was getting what wo call * ugly." I made my way towards (he little knot of talkers, and overheard the following conversation : " So you didn't think much of year lodgings in the haunted house, Bill?" ," No, I didn't—no two ways abSut it." '" What did you hear ?" ' 'Twasn't what I heard—'twas ■ what I saw." "What did you see, then ?" " Why, the doors oponin' and shuttin' without anybody touchin' 'em." "Nousflnse, man!" Fonsjrise be blowed ! I tell you

they did. And when I drawed my six.-shooter and fired half a dozen shots clean through the door— makin' the all-firedest row you ever heard—the door kep' oponin' and shuttin' and playing' tunes. I felt like a gone sucker, you bet. My heart began to jump so under my jacket that it's a wonder it didn't knock a button ofT. I wouldn't go there again for all the money in the State. But if anybody here thinks I'm a coward, he's only got to say so."

It suddenly occurred to me that I had located Coffin. A vague suspicion of this sort,had, it is true, flitted through my mind before ; but now, without being able to explain why, I felt assured that however impossible it might seem, Coffin was the ghost in the, haunted house. Beyond the facts that the fame of tho haunted house was wide spread, and that everybody knew of its existence, there was nothing to support my theory except the maxim of the most famous of all detectives— a maxim destined to assure his sifterfame : " Always suspect, that which seems probable, and begin by believing what appears incredible."

I determined to call in the aid of another detective, and visit the place next night. I chose for my companion George Webber, one of the most esteemed members of the force, a man who had proved his worth. Webber was a man of impertubable calmness, and with great confidence in himself. He would have laid his hand upon the most dangerous criminal as tranquilly as if he had been accosting a friend.

Tho haunted farmhouse was situated about a hundred yards from the roadway. What once had been a garden was now a veritable jungle, given up to weeds and bushes. Fortunately, although it was ten o'clock, the night was clear. Innumerable stars lit up the flinty sky. There was no light in the house, no signs of its being inhabited. The windows of the ground floor were broken, and some of doors were open. We entered ac the rear. A place of more sinister aspect I never saw. The plaster had crumbled from the walls ; the flooring was rotten ; the ceiling looked as though it might fall at any time, the rafters being bent as if they supported a heavy weight. The sitting-room, where " Bill " had taken up his quarters a few nights previously contained a rough table and a few stools, which had been overturned. I could see that the door which led from it to the staircase had been riddled by bullets. There was a doorway in the passage, but the door was gone. The door which led into the parlor opened noiselessly. Our lanterns revealed the fact that the tables, glass and chairs had been overturned, thrown in every direction, trodden upon, and s'.iivered into fragments. Everything denoted that this room had been the scene of a terrible struggle.

The keyhole of the door which led into the cellar was sewn up with cobwebs. The cellar itself was full of dust and debris. Each of us had a lantern and each inspected for himself. Eunning along the side wall, I detected a wire, and following this I found that it disappeared in an old barrel.. Without disturbing the wire, I removed tho head of the barrel and found that the wire was attached to an old saucepan lid. A thorough examination revealed nothing farther; so we returned to the sitting-room. I did not tell rny companion what I had seen, and he had discovered nothing. We did not go upstairs, because we thought it would be prudent to postpone further explorations until the nextaay. Meanwhile, we darkened our lanterns and deposited them in a corner. The room was semi-dark. Our eyes and ears were on the alert ; but the house was still as the tomb; we saw nothing and heard no sound. I had merely told my companion that I expected to make an impurtant discovery. Of its nature he knew nothing. j

We waited in tho most acute degree of expectation and attention until nearly midnight. All of a sudden we heard faint notes of music, wnich lasted for a few minutes. By-and-bye the music was accompanied by a voice. The sounds were as fine and soft as the voice of a child. I was satisfied that the music was the work of human hands and the voice a human voice, but I was considerably startled. My companion looked very pale, and strove to rise from the place where he sat. I put my hand on his arm to prevent him. It was scarcely necessary, for he could barely muster strength to whisper, " Let's get." The music was trailing away into feebleness, when the staircase door began to open and shut. I felt sure that the wire which I had seen had something to do with this. I made a great effort to rise. To my astonishment, I could not move a limb. I could only bead forward and gasp. A power which I could not resist made me motionless and speechless. Yet all the time I was burning to " go " for that door, but I hadn't physical capacity to do so, My companion recovered first, and seizing both lanterns, dashed from the house and made for the roadway. I jumped to my feet and followed my companion. As I did so, I heard a tunk, tunk, tunk! down in the cellar. I found my mate in tho highway, his face as white as a sheet. " What in thunder ails you, man ?" I asked, feeling that the

most creditable way of drawing my companion's attention from my condition was to heighten the absurdity of Ins.

" The ghost! " -ho gasped- " I wouldn't go back to that houso to save my life."

There was nothing for it but to tell "Webber what I'd seem aud what I suspected. As I have said, my fellow-detective was as brave a man as ever took up a trail ; and when I told him what I had scon, he became perfectly self-possessed. We spent the remainder of the night in laying our plans. In the early morning he rode back to San Francisco to get the necessary apparatus for carrying them out. I remained to'shadow ' the house.

Just as it was getting dusk my companion returned, and we reentered the house from the rear, noiselessly, and with great caution. Removing my shoes, I made my way upstairs, where I fancied I detected a slight noise overhead. There was no sign of this room having been inhabited. The old place was two stories high, with a garret at the top. The garret was evidently reached by a ladder, though nme was visible. I .surmised that tho ghost was in this garret, and that anyone showing his head above the scuttle would get it rapped, even if he didn't get shot. There was a large oupboard facing the entrance to the garret, and in the door of it I bored—on a level with my eyns— a fe.w small holes with a gimlet which I happened to have in my pocket-knife, first drawing it through my hair, to prevent its making the slightest noise.

My plan was to play tho ghost for the benefit of the occupant of the garret—ghost, or no ghost. For this purpose Webber had brought with him an old fiddle; I removed all the strings but one, told my companion to allow me to secrete myself above, and then to make a noise on that one string, accompanying it with a few groans and other muffled noises.

I hadn't been hid many minutes before I heard the darnedest row from below. It wasn't like anything earthly. At first it seemed like one shrieking in pain, then it sounded like belligerent cats, and then it died away in a few complaining sighs. It was so weird that, although I knew very well that my mate was causing it, I couldn't help feeling a bit queer. Pretty soon I heard a movement overhead ; the scuttle-top was being removed. Next a ladder was thrust down the scuttle. To help Webber to keep up the entertainment, I gave a few groans inside tho cupboard. That brought a man down the ladder. He'd no sooner reached the foot of it than I collared him. It was Coffin.

The moment I toucher! him he sank down on the floor like—like an empty sack. He seemed as if he hadn't go'; a hone in his body ; he was as limp as a jelly-fish. "While I got him out into the open air, Webber searched the garret, and found all the missing dollars, bonds, &c.

We hurried Coffin hack to San Francisco, intending to lock him up. He was still unconscious, and we were obliged to summon a doctor. Poor fellow ! He never got over it. When he came out of his swoon he was mad, and had to spend the rest of his days in an asylum. That's the effect it has, sir, when a man really believes he has come in contact with the supernatural, as Coffin did.