The Somnambulist and the Detective; The Murderer and the Fortune Teller. Pinkerton Allan
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Allan Pinkerton
The Somnambulist and the Detective; The Murderer and the Fortune Teller
Published by Good Press, 2019
EAN 4064066238827
Table of Contents
ILLUSTRATIONS
Cover.
"At this instant I flung open one of the shutters, and simultaneously I heard a cry of horror from my clerk."—Page 19.
"She soon discovered Mrs. Potter lying by the road-side, groaning and in great pain."—Page 64.
"As soon as the clerk had left the office, Miller quietly extracted Pattmore's letter from the box."—Page 157.
"'Death!' shrieked Mrs. Thayer, and then she fell back lifeless."—Page 199.
THE DETECTIVE
AND THE
SOMNAMBULIST.
CHAPTER I.
About nineteen years ago, I was enjoying a short relaxation from the usual press of business in Chicago. I had only one or two really important cases on hand, and I was therefore preparing to take a much needed rest. At this time, my business was not nearly so extensive as it has since become, nor was my Agency so well known as it now is; hence, I was somewhat surprised and gratified to receive a letter from Atkinson, Mississippi, asking me to go to that town at once, to investigate a great crime recently perpetrated there. I had intended to visit my former home in Dundee, for a week or ten days, but, on receiving this letter, I postponed my vacation indefinitely.
The letter was written by Mr. Thomas McGregor, cashier of the City Bank, of Atkinson, and my services were called for by all the officers of the bank. The circumstances of the case were, in brief, that the paying-teller had been brutally murdered in the bank about three or four months before, and over one hundred and thirty thousand dollars had been stolen. Mr. McGregor said that no expense should be spared to detect the criminals, even though the money was not recovered; that would be an important consideration, of course, but the first object sought was the capture of the murderers of poor George Gordon, the late paying-teller.
Having already arranged my business for a brief absence, I was all ready for the journey, and by the next train, I was speeding southward, toward Atkinson.
I arrived there early in the morning, of one of the most delightful days of early spring. I had exchanged the brown fields and bare trees of the raw and frosty North, for the balmy airs, blooming flowers, and waving foliage of the sunny South. The contrast was most agreeable