Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 22, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 January 1916 — The Blank Card [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Blank Card

Taken from the Notebook of an Old Detective

by Charles Edmonds Walk

And With Name* and Places Hidden Published as ■ Proof That '• Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction

Tn September, 1913, Felix Hazard received an urgent summons from the New York offices of the Sutherland detective agency to come at once to that city to assist the local operatives in unraveling a particularly baffling case; a case, it may be added, that still remain? one among many of the eastern metropolis’ unsolved riddles. The circumstances tended to show that oik the morning of September 2 David Bardeene, master financier and power in Wall street, had been stabbed to death by a mysterious woman who had not as yet been apprehended and whose identity was unknown to the police. Bardeene s widow had enlisted the aid of the Sutherlands not only,to find the woman, but to clear up an unpleasant scandal that, since the supposed murder, was beginning to cloud the dead millionaire’s name.

The summons fell in admirably with Hazard’s plans, because his confrere and friend, Helen Bertel, was spending her vacation in New York, and he anticipated some pleasant times in her company. He reported promptly at the New York office, where he was supplied with full details of the case. Almost at once Hazard was struck by what he considered a suggestive factor; this was the ease with which the mysterious woman had gained access to Bardeene’s private office. Guarded by an army of clerks and office attendants, the financier was one of the least accessible of men. Unless by previous appointment, seldom if ever was anybody admitted to his presence; strangers were barfed utterly. The unknown woman, it would seem, on the presentation of her card, had been instantly ushered into the inner sanctum. And here arose another singular circumstance. It was no other than the chief clerk himself who took the card; but he could not recall the woman’s name, and the card itself could not be found. As for her appearance, she had been stylishly gowned, she seemed to be young, or not more than middleaged, but her features were concealed by a heavy veil. Slie remained with Bardeene perhaps thirty minutes altogether. Something like five minutes before she departed the buzzer rang for George Destin, the chief clerk, who went at once into the private office. He reappeared in the outer office a minute or so later pale and trembling—in fact, so agitated that certain of the office force noticed his perturbation and commented among themselves that “the old man had been giving Destin a grilling.” He was a much feared “old man.” Then a minute or two later the veiled woman reappeared and passed at a normal gait through the outer room, where the office force was ensconced. That was the last seen of her. During the next few minutes it was noticed by his subordinates that Destin was uneasy and fidgety. He fumbled aimlessly and nervously with the papers at his desk, and by and by he rose with an air of having steeled himself to the performance of an unpleasant task and went into the private office. - Next instant he came reeling back, white as a sheet and making queer, Incoherent noises in his throat. The office was thrown into confusion; but presently the others made out that he was trying to cry "Murder!” And then it was that the fatality was discovered. Having ascertained all the details from Heffernan, the New York operative who had charge of the case for. the Sutherlands, Felix Hazard meant first to. find Helen Bertel and then devote his attention to the dead financier’s Wall street offices. He was just starting for the elevator when an office boy came up and handed him a sealed envelope beating his name. Hastily tearing it open, he found, on a slip of paper, the following typewritten message: “David Bardeene met only his just deserts. If you value your peace of mind don’t, from a mistaken notion of duty, try to bring retribution upon the nftserable Instrument of vengeance who killed him. This is not a threat, but wise counsel.” Hazard wheeled upon the boy. •‘Where did you get this?” he sharply demanded. “I found it in the letterbox among the office mall.” “H’m! Then anybody could have dropped it there at any time." He handed the slip to Heffernan. “Somebody wants us to keep hands off; as far as you went, did you run against any opposition?" , Heffernan studied the uncompromising bit of paper and slowly shook his “Regardless of the disclaimer that a this is a threat,” he commented, “it 3s, nevertheless, nothing else. Before you go liiuch further I bet you’ll receive another more to the point” “I believe you," agreed Hazard. "The case promises to be interesting. Well, I must be off.” ~ An hour later he and Helen Bertel *>•- . • -'-'.XT —T : ~ ~~

were happily facing each other across a restaurant table. He told her what had brought him to New York, laying the Bardeene case before her circumstantially. “Here,” said she, “endeth my vacation; for I suppose you want me to help you.” “My dear girl,” Hazard protested, “all I ask of you is to be a patient listener and then give me the banefit of your luminous, clear-thinking brain. I have to talk to someone to get my own ideas in order; I’d rather it would be you than anybody else.” “For that, dear Felix,” she smiled at him, “I’ll point the way for you to begin.” She pretended to go into a trance. “My control suggests George Destin, the chief clerk.” Hazard’s eyes sparkled, because the pretty girl opposite him had arrived at a conclusion identical with his own. Still, to make the advice more positive and concrete, he asked her for het reasons. Said she: “I haven’t many definite reasons, for askance at the chief clerk; it is mostly intuition that prompts me; but it sticks in my mind as being queer that he can neither recall the woman’s naffie nor find the card. That doesn’t indicate a careful office man, such as would hold a responsible position in David Bardeene’s exacting employ. Therefore, if he suppressed the card and the woman’s name, if anything occurred in the inner office that he has not told, then he knows the woman and there is collusion between them.”

Hazard nodded his head in full agreement; thefi, after arranging for a meeting with Helen for that same evening, he reluctantly left her and made his way to Bardeene’s offices in Wall street. As a result of the guiding spirit’s removal from the midst of his many activities, the place was dull and spiritless. George Destin was alone, discharging such duties as ordinarily fell to him. The detective scrutinized the chief clerk keenly before making himself known. He beheld a good-looking, well set up man of thirty or thereabouts with black hair and a closely clipped black mustashe. The pallor that marked his face might have followed naturally upon the shock and worry caused by his employer’s tragic death, and the man’s state of mind could not fairly be taken as evidence of guilty knowledge. In a few moments Hazard introduced himself and stated the object of his visit. “But I don’t see what I can do, Mr. Hazard. I am stunned; my mind can’t grasp the terrible happening; but it seems to me the police have been a bit overzealous in suspecting me.” Hazard gave him a sharp glance: he was not a little taken aback by the man’s unexpected candor. "Why do they suspect you?” he asked. “Because I did not know the lady’s name —that is to say, I could not recall it —and because the card has not been found. But how could I be expected to remember a name that I never saw or heard?” - “You had her card,” the detective reminded him. “Ah, yes—to be sure —her card.” Destin lapsed into meditation. Then resolution came to him; he met Hazard’s steady look with eyes that revealed nothing. He pursued: “As you are working in Mrs. Bardeene’s interests, I do not mind con; siding to you something that I hesitated telling the police; I felt that I would not be believed. “The explanation of my ignorance respecting the woman is quite simple. It is very rarely that a woman comes to • these offices, and less than an jiour before the tragedy Mr. Bardeene informed me that he was expecting a lady caller and for me to show her in the instant she arrived. So when this womah came, naturally I took it for granted that she was the one he was expecting, and I showed her immediately into the private office. She did not tell me her name; as a matter of fact, I did not hear her utter sword.” “But the card,” Hazard again reminded him, "surely you saw her name on that." The man looked at him queerly. After a pause—“No, I did not,” he said slow!/. "The card was blank.” .C. ‘“Blank!” Hazard ejaculated. “Why, nobody would send in a blank card to a man like Mr. Bardeene!”*’' , » Destin shrugged his shoulders. "This lady did, at any rate. You see now why I was reluctant to tell all this to the police; it sounds rather preposterous. “I may add, though, that occasionally people had appointments with Mr. Bardeene, who fiiade their preset some sort, people whose identities it was not advisable to disclose even to the office staff. I concluded that the blank card was some such open sesame. Mr. Bardeene was strangely agitated when I handed it to him,

and he told me to show her in at once.” Felix Hazard was rapidly acquiring a curious jumble of irreconcilable conclusions. David Bardeene, who had time and inclination to consider only matters of huge emprise, bad an appointment with a mysterious veiled woman who made herself known by means of a blank visiting card; he immediately dropped all. other business and gave her his attention; during the course of a 30-minute interview she had, it would seem, stabbed him to death with his own paperknife, and then departed as quietly and unhurriedly and mysteriously as she had come.

All ■at once he remembered the scandal that had gathered about the dead man’s name and which it was a part of his duty to hush. It struck him now that the scandal, If there were any basis for it, must be opened up and aired instead of suppressed, if justice were to be done. “Mr. Destin,” he went off on a new track, “you were probably as close to David Bardeene as any man, were you not?” The chief clerk reflected, then thoughtfully replied: “No man was what you might call intimate with Mr. Bardeene; nobody could get close to him; he was a reserved, self-contained man; but in a business way I suppose I had as much of his confidence as any one. Socially, though—well, do you know Maxwell Howe, the engineer?” The name was indeed familiar to Felix Hazard. He thought of the man whose splendid genius was sullied by the character of a Dionysius; at once a creator of magnificent structures and a satyr, a genius in whom glowed the divine spark and a selfish hedonist and libertine.

“Yes, I know him,” he returned. “Well,” came the quiet addendum, “Mr. Bardeene was much in his company out of office.hours." If this were true, once more the case resolved itself into simple if sordid elements. But Destin was not the best source of information for this angle; it was a factor that Hefferman could attend to. “When the buzzer summoned you, while the woman was with Mr. Bardeene, what occurred that agitated you?” Hazard asked. For the first time George Destin betrayed uneasiness. He stirred uncomfortably and darted a disturbed glance at his inquisitor before replying. . / _ ... “He Reprimanded me for what he considered a dereliction on my part," Destiq explained in a dropped voice; “a matter that had nothing to do With the lady’s call —or at least I suppose it hadn't.” That the incident rankled would account for the chief clerk’s constraint; but for some reason Hazard regarded him with suspicion. However he didn’t press his interrogations; it occurred to him that a dossier of both Bardeene’s and Destin’s mode of life would be more Informative than anything the chief clerk would be of a mind to tell him. So after a minute or two of desultory conversation he took his leave. = No sooner had he emerged upon the sidewalk than a seedy-looking individual accosted him and asked whether his name was Felix Hazard. He eyed the man shrewdly, and swiftly made up his mind that he was not a factor to reckon with. When he replied in the affirmative the seedy man handed him a bethumbed, sealed envelope upon which was his typewritten name. The messenger started to slouch away, but Hazard arrested his steps with a curt command to wait. The second message, like the first, was typewritten on a narrow slip of paper; but unlike the other, the menace of its purport 'was unmistakable. Hazard read: . “You choose to disregard friendly counsel —very well. Beware the consequences. To clear the mystery surrounding David Bardeene’s death will not serve the ends of justice, but will entail irreparable injury for people who are innocent of any wrongdoing. So stop before it is too late.” Hazard bore down sternly upon the shabby messenger, who promptly became frightened and anxious to be gone. “Who gave you this?” he demanded. "I —I —d-d-don’t know the gent,” chattered the other. “He points you out to me when you goes into the building and he gives me a bone to wait and hand you this letter when you comes out. He beats it, and I earns my money—that’s all.” “Describe him.” The seedy individual did so as well as he was able in his rattled state; but the description told Hazard nothing—it was of somebody whom he could not identify. After a final word of warning the detective dismissed—the messenger, who scuttled away. - Felix Hazard was not disposed to treat the warning lightly, and he apprehended trouble before ha got much farther into the Bardeene 'ease. He knew that big interests were affected,

and that a man’s life in New York could be purchased for a trifling sum of money; the notorious gun-men were not a myth—murder was their trade. But who, he wondered, could be so eager to dissuade him from clearing up the mystery? On his way back to the Sutherland office he pondered this question deeply, but could find no satisfactory answer. Heffernan promised to obtain complete records of both Bardeene and Destin by the next afternoon, and cautioned his associate from the western city to be constantly on his guard. “Thpse typewritten threats have an ugly look to me,” he added, "and if the author of them is as unscrupulous as the circumstances seem to indicate he will make no bones about having you fixed.” But this aspect of the affair did not in the least abate Felix Hazard’s enjoyment of a popular Broadway musical revue and a supper later on at one of the more subdued of that street’s garish lobster palaces; for Helen Bertel was with him and all business troubles and worries were for the time being laid aside. » It was not until he and Helen emerged upon the sidewalk that the typewritten threats were brought forcibly to mind. He guided Helen through the throng of pedestrians to the curb, where the starter already had summoned a taxi. ■4—-

And here Hazard abruptly halted: the conveyance was not the same one they bad used earlier in the evening, not the one in which they had come to the restaurant from the theater and whose driver he had instructed to wait. He had no more than paused in his progress toward the vehicle when there came a sudden surging among the pedestrians surrounding him. The cab door flew open and at the same instant he was seized by powerful hands and roughly hustled toward it. Helen was separated from him, and at once he lost sight of her. As usual, when such events are precipitated, not a policeman was in sight. Now those who have followed this series will recall that Miss Bertel was an active, athletic girl and a courageous one into the bargain. Moreover she was quick-witted and prompt to

act, else she could not have held the position of trust and confidence she did with the Sutherlands. Although forcibly separated from her escort, she instantly divined what was happening, and a swift survey of the scene gave her all the details of the stratagem by which at least seven men were trying to kidnap Hazard. Each of his arms was grasped by a man and a third was lifting and pushing the detective from behind. Hazard was helpless, and regardless of the brightly lighted and crowded street the plot would have succeeded by its very boldness and audacity—had it not been for Helen Bertel. She also observed that four other husky individuals were plunging this way and that , among the crowd, hurling the nearest ones away from the immediate vicinity and keeping the space about the cab door clear. Helen pressed forward, cautiously alert A huge, evil-vlsaged man lunged violently directly at her—and next instant he went sprawling to the walk. She had neatly tripped him. Then rushing to the cab door, she slammed it shut and crouched against it with all her strength, for she knew not what might come through the open window. t plot depended* for its success up_on the rapidity wjth which it could be accomplished. Without check or hindrance Hazard might have been bundled into the cab and the cab speeding away ail within the space of a few seconds. But Helen’s unforeseen opposition provided the brief delay necessary to frustrate the maneuver. The med -holding Hazard became panic-stricken and released him, and

when one of the roughs seized Helen to hurt her away from the door several of the spectators awakened, and in a moment that individual was receiving the roughest handling of his life Then the cab glided away and the thugs tried to lose themselves' in the crowd. All succeeded save one. The instant that Hazard’s right arm was free he was upon the fellow at his left and bore him to the walk in a flash. The man lay face downward, and Hazard twisted his right arm back until he cried out with pain. Helen, her fine gray eyes shining and her face glowing with excitement, stood watching. To her Hazard said quietly: “Get an officer; I think I can use this chap.” But just then a bluecoat t forced his way through the crowd. Explanations were quickly made,’ the thug was led away to the nearest patrol box. Hazard and Helen hurried into another taxi, and the episode was over. At police headquarters, some time later, after Hazard had seen Helen safely to her hotel, the detective was afforded an insight into New York police conditions where protected interests are involved. The captain of police was anxious to conciliate a man of Felix Hazard’s reputation and standing, he knew he could not deceive him, and he also knew that any true confession from the captured thug would lead him back to a dead wall of helplessness.

“There’s no chance of getting to the man higher up through this guy,” averred the captain; "at best we can only lay our hands upon some ward man who perhaps got his orders from the swell who sat next to you at the show tonight or at the next table to you at the Broadway restaurant where you dined, and by the time we’d worked our way to him-—if we could — we’d be in hot water up to our necks. We can do you no good, but can get ourselves in. bad.” Hazard understood and took the matter philosophically. “Let the fellow go,” he said; “I dare say I can take care of myself. Next time, though,” he warned, “I’ll be more watchful —I’m pretty handy with a gun.” “If you can get any o’ them guys

that way,” the captain earnestly assured him, "I’m with you. You’ll save us police a lot o’ trouble.” The next afternoon Heffernan handed Hazard two closely typewritten sheets; they were the records of David Bardeene and George Destin. Terse and unemotional in their phraseology, they were nevertheless revelations —Bardeene’s of a deliberately chosen life of gross sensualism upon which, fortunately, this chronicle need touch only in a cursory way; while George Destin’s was commonplace save for one circumstance which will be brought out presently. The name of Maxwell Howe was so frequently linked with Bardeene’s that they may be said to have been partners in a systematic career of evil. There t were descriptions of Eleusinian revels in apartments which the voluptuous imagination of Howe had transformed into bowers of rich and elegant luxury, and in connection with these appeared the name of —Idabelle Valette. «■ Idabelle Valette, the record showed, was twenty; she had lived with her widowed mother at a given address in Harlem and had worked at one of the larger down-town department stores until January, 1913. Thenceforward her name was so closely associated with Bardeene’s and Howe’s tfyu the appended details of her fate mere redundancy. The significant details of George he had "kept company” with Idabelle Valette, and it was generally believed by their acquaintances that theywere engaged tx/be married. The perusal of these two sheets had

a magical effect upon Felix. First of all he sought out Helen Bertel. “I shall have to use you. after all,” iKp excused himself; "what I want you to do only a woman can.” He laid the whole ugly story before her and gave her an address. "That is where Mrs. Hubert Valette, Idabelle’s mother, lives; she was the veiled woman. Unquestionably you will find her greatly distressed, and it will require a woman’s sympathy, insight and tact to get her to yield up her stor|. I can guess it pretty accurately, but I want it from her own lips. "While you are gone I mean to pay my respects to one of New York’s honored citizens; I want to let him know Just bow he stands in the opinion of all decent men.” - m "And women,” added Helen. “But he won’t see you.” Hazard smiled grimly. "He will, though,” he averred with quiet assurance. His up-town Journey ended at the imposing and busy office of Maxwell Howe, and after he had sent in his card, as Helen had foretold, the famous engineer refused to see him. “Give me a sheet of paper and an envelope," the detective demanded of the stenographer in a tone that brooked no denial. He wrote: 'lf you don’t grant me an immediate audience, every afternoon paper in New York shall ring with the story of Idabelle Valette.” This he sealed in the envelope and sent in to Howe. By way of reply he was shown into the latter’s private office. The detective wasted no time ia getting down to the object of his call. His manner was stern and compelling, and the large, impressive-looking man who watched him with filmed eyes remained silent and Impassive. “Mr. Howe, I have not come here to preach you a sermon,” Hazard began; "but to make my meaning clear and unmistakable, there are a few things I mean to tell you.

"God has given you a great gift, and that you have seen fit to debase it and drag it through the muck and mire does not in the least concern me where you alone are affected. But you are a beast unchained and so constitute a deadly peril to all within the sphere of your influence. Contact with you is poisonous,• fatal. I want to impress upon your mind that you are now chained so that you will not bring utter ruin upon the heads of your innocent family. In the office of the Sutherland detective agency in a complete detailed statement of what I suppose you are pleased to call your amusements and recreations, covering a period of the last three years; with that statement are the names of scores of witnesses whose testimony can not be refuted. Try only once again to bring ruin to an innocent girl, to wreck the life of an earnest, hard-working young man, and that statement win be given to the world. Not even your power and influence can save you from disgrace, humiliation and prison walls.” Hazard took a step forward and shook a finger in the other's face. “Harken, Maxwell Howe,” he solemnly concluded, “even now you can hear the clank of chains and the echo of the warden's tread. May they rinn constantly in your ears as a reminder of what I have told you today.” Still the man sat as if petrified., Felix Hazard moved over to the door, where he paused for a parting shot. “Just a final word of counsel, Mr. Howe,” he said meaningly. "Don’t make any more attempts to kidnap me; the result will only spell disaster to yourself. Call your dogs off.”Not many minutes later Hazard and Helen Bartel were comparing notes. Mrs. Valette she had found utterly broken and prostrated; but excepting that she confirmed all the facts now in Hazard’s possession, Helen’s mission had not been altogether successful. • "I could not persuade her to talk about what happened in Bardeene’s private office,” said H®^ en - "She solemnly declared that that episode is between her and God, and wild horses couldn’t drag it from her. “As for the rest, she talked freely enough. Idabelle is dead; She died In an Elizabethtown sanitarium five weeks ago. David Bardeene, If he were alive, would be liable on a serious criminal charge. He knew It, and when Mrs. Valette wrote him threatening letters he was simply terrified —he losh his head. “In one of her letters Mrs. Valette enclosed a blank calling card. She told him: ‘Unless you make reparation, your life shall become as this card—s blank’’ He knew the significance oh the card that George Destin brought* him on the fatal day.” Hazard thoughtfully nodded hil, head. “I know all that I need know. Mrs. Valette did not slay Bardeene; if she had she would have told you.” Wfie talk that Hazard had with George Destin was a long one, and during its course the young man's heart and soul lay naked under the scalpel of Hazard’s searching analysis of the tragedy. “It is lucky for you, Destin, that 1 am not a police officer. My duty has been observed, my obligations discharged. It was Mrs. Valette who rang the buzzer on that fatal day. It was the signal for you to act You did. “It is not for me to Judge the right or wrong of what you did. Ido know that you had great provocation, whether or not you were Justified in taking a human life I shall leave to your conscience. The secret of David Bardeene’s death blocked in my bosom. ** And thus it eame about that the Bardeen case remained among the unsolved mysteries in police annals. (Copyright IMS* by W. O. Chapman.).

“Harken, Maxwell Howe. Even Now, You Can Hear the Clank of Chains and the Echo of the Warden’s Tread.”