The Greatest Works of Allan Pinkerton. Allan Pinkerton
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Some years after Pattmore was sentenced, I was walking down Broadway, New York, when I happened to meet Captain Sumner. Our greetings were very cordial, and I invited him to visit me at my New York office.
"I shall be very glad, indeed, to come," he said; "I often think of you, and I can never forget how much I am indebted to you. By the way, I should like to bring a friend with me."
"Do so, by all means," I replied; "I shall always be glad to see any of your friends. But how is Mrs. Thayer? Do you intend to bring her to see me?"
"No; she is not in this country now," he answered, with a pleasant smile; "but she was in good health when I last heard from her, and was very happy, indeed. Henry Thayer returned to the United States about a month after we had settled down on my farm, and he immediately came to see me. I need not tell you how delighted he was to find Annie waiting for him. Their old love for each other returned with redoubled power and now nothing could separate them. When Annie began to speak of her past follies and errors, Henry stopped her instantly: 'No, Annie,' he said, 'let the dead bury the dead—we will live for the future. Our past shall be forgotten except such memories as are pleasant.' They have resided for several years in China, where Henry is a partner in a wealthy firm. They have two lovely children, and life runs very smoothly and pleasantly for them. I know that this great change in her life was largely due to you, Mr. Pinkerton, and I shall never cease to be grateful for your exertions to save her from misery. I owe you still another debt, which I will tell you about to-morrow, when I bring my friend to see you."
"I am very glad to know that Mrs. Thayer is so happy," I said; "give my regards to her when you write. I must hurry on now, Captain, as I have an important engagement; so good-bye. Bring your friend any time to-morrow afternoon."
So saying, I shook his hand and passed on. The next day he came sailing in, with a fine looking lady of middle age leaning contentedly on his arm.
"Mr. Pinkerton," said the Captain, with a very complacent expression, "I'm spliced. Allow me to introduce Mrs. Sumner—lately Mrs. Agnew."
THE END.
The Spiritualists and the Detectives
PREFACE.
I wish to anticipate any adverse criticism that may be made upon the following pages, by being as frank with the public as I trust the critics will be fair with me.
Therefore I must say at the beginning that I expect many well-meaning people to differ with me as to the propriety of giving this book to the public; but I am exceedingly hopeful that that difference will not amount to a serious condemnation. Nor can I think it will when I earnestly assert that I have caused its publication out of as honest a motive as I ever possessed; and I am sure that whatever the American people have come to think of me in other respects, they are pretty certain of my honesty.
The incidents related are true, though, out of a proper regard for my patrons and many who do not sustain that relation, but who unavoidably become identified in numberless ways with my operations in ferreting out crime and criminals, I have deemed it best to locate the story in a city several hundred miles from the place where the occurrences really transpired, and, for the same reason, have given the characters fictitious names; but the incidents are exact parallels of the original facts, and in many cases are literal transcripts of, while in every instance they agree with, the records of the case as minutely reported during its progress.
By way of further explanation, I desire to remind my readers how very difficult it is for those not familiar with the detective business to realize the masses of iniquity we are often obliged to unearth, unpalatable as the work may be and is. But while, from the nature of my business, my records are necessarily so exhaustive, and have been made so thoroughly minute, as to contain simply everything, good or bad, regarding an operation, and are, therefore, as records, reliable and true—though they thus become repositories of much that is vile—I have striven in every instance, while relating the truth and nothing but the truth, to speak of unpleasant