“I would be honored, Miss Todd. We’ll take it slow.”
The crowd parted, and Mary and I walked arm in arm out of the hotel and down the street.
“I hope it was worth it,” she said at last, when we were certain that no one who had witnessed the scene at the hotel remained in our vicinity. “The role of damsel in distress is not one that comes naturally.”
“And yet you played it with such enthusiasm.” I grinned, enjoying our new familiarity. “Let’s stop here. I saw Big Red and Henry Trailor talking near you. Did you overhear anything of interest?”
She shook her head. “They were speaking too quietly. All I caught were a few references to ‘the trial,’ but that’s to be expected. How did you make out?”
“The mystery guest in room thirty-two, the one consorting with Henry Trailor, is none other than the banker August Belmont.” Mary’s eyes widened. “I was only able to search his room for a minute. All I found was this. Let’s take a look together.”
I took the purloined packet of paper out of my pocket. In the broad daylight, we could see that it was a scrap of newsprint torn from a newspaper, folded over several times and well worn. The newsprint had started to yellow with age, and I unfolded it carefully. One side contained several partial columns from a story about a raid against native tribes in the Iowa Territory. Then I turned the fragment over. Together we read a notice on the other side, printed in large type that spread the width of two normal columns:
BEWARE OF COUNTERFEITER!
On or about the 12th day of August, a man giving his name as August Belmont and his birthplace as the Free City of Frankfurt was arrested near Dubuque for having in his possession fifty pages of blank bank notes from the Miners’ Bank. It was believed that Belmont intended to fill out the notes himself and put them into circulation, passing them off as genuine.
The following day, Belmont was brought before the presiding magistrate. He claimed that he was a banker, with connections to a famous European banking family, and that he had come into possession of the notes in the honorable practice of his profession. A vice president of Miners’ Bank appeared and testified that neither he nor any other officer of the bank had had any dealings with Belmont and that the blank notes were to be considered stolen property. The magistrate found cause to bind Belmont over for trial at the next sitting of the circuit court.
Belmont gave bail for his appearance at the next term in the sum of eight hundred dollars and left the county. He has not been seen again, and the notes comprising his bail were later determined to be made out on false paper. The public would do well to be on the lookout, as a master thief is in our midst.
—Iowa Territorial Gazette
“What does it mean?” asked Mary, her mouth parted.
My blood was rushing; my dislike for Belmont had been vindicated. “It means,” I said, “that the banker is actually a bandit.”
CHAPTER 23
“I confess I’ve always had a bit of wonder about that man,” said Mary as she read over the article one more time.
“Oh?”
“Something about him doesn’t feel right. My father served several years as president of the Kentucky State Bank, back home in Lexington. He came into contact with European bankers in the course of his work, and I insisted that he take me with him to several meetings.” Mary smiled. “Mr. Belmont’s manner is very different than what I’ve seen in that class of men.”
“I’ve been telling Lincoln all along he’s a suspicious character.”
“Then we must show him at once what you’ve found.”
I began to make an excuse as to why this wasn’t possible, but I stopped myself before the words left my mouth. Everything was different now, I realized in a flash. Just as my frank conversation with Mary had definitively turned the page and opened the way for a new, more satisfying, relationship between me and her, it had also changed my dealings with Lincoln. If we were no longer romantic rivals, then there was no reason for me to cling to my grievance. The clouds parted, and all at once I felt a rush of happiness.
“Yes, let’s,” I said. I lent her my arm and she took it. We shared a happy smile, the two of us feeling flush with the success of having puzzled out together a mystery, even if the greater mystery of Fisher’s murder remained, for the time being, unsolved. And good fortune continued to smile upon us, for there was Lincoln himself on the road ahead, striding towards us in great haste.
“Lincoln,” I shouted.
“Speed! I heard a report that Miss Todd took ill. Have you seen—” Lincoln belatedly noticed Mary at my side. He came to a sudden halt. His facial muscles contorted with rage, and he exploded with an anger I had never seen before.
“How dare you! Both of you! After all we’ve—”
Both Mary and I were motioning frantically to get Lincoln to stop his rant, but our coordinated actions only seemed to fan his fire.
“—been through. An outrage! An affront! I thought I knew—”
“Stop, Lincoln!” I shouted.
“Please, Abraham,” pleaded Mary.
Lincoln finally paused for breath.
“It’s not what you think,” I said. “Everything’s changed.”
“I’ll say everything’s changed,” said Lincoln, pointing at our linked arms, his breaths still coming fast and furious.
“Will you please listen for a second?” said Mary. “Just for one second.”
Something about her urgent, earnest tone connected with the man. Lincoln stopped his tirade and took a deep breath to gather himself. He nodded.
“First of all,” I said, “I need to apologize for the way I acted. I think, in fairness, we owe one to each other, but since I threw the first punch, I’ll speak first. I am very sorry for how I’ve behaved, Lincoln, when we fought and for the past week, too. I’d like to think I’m a better man.”
I held out my hand, but Lincoln only looked at it warily. “And this?” he said, nodding at Mary and me, standing side by side.
“This,” said Mary, “is because Mr. Speed and I have successfully completed some investigating together. Investigating on behalf of your client, I hasten to add. I don’t know all the details of whatever disagreements you’ve had” —she gave a small smile, making clear she knew exactly what, or rather who, had been the object of the same— “but Mr. Speed has taken the honorable step of apologizing first. Now, there’s only one way for you to respond.”
“Yes, of course,” said Lincoln after a moment. He reached out and clasped my outstretched arm. His palm was warm, his fingers strong, and we held the clasp for a second longer than normal. “I’m sorry, too, Speed. You’re a better man than you’ve shown, and so am I. Let’s resolve, both of us, to put such matters in the past.”
“Agreed.”
“And now that’s settled,” said Mary, nodding approvingly, “let us tell you what we’ve discovered.” She described the information about Henry Trailor and Belmont and the scene at the American House, and I showed Lincoln the newspaper article, which he read over, twice, the skin around his eyes drawing tight as he took it in. When he had finished and handed the article back to me, I related the results of my interviews with the stage and stable men and my conversation with Ransdell. Both Lincoln and Mary laughed as I recounted Ransdell’s threats to come after me with his ruthless lawyer.
“Toothless, more like it,” said Lincoln, grinning.
“Hardly,” said Mary, grasping his arm and gazing up at him with admiration. I felt a pang of jealousy, but just as quickly I tried to chase the feeling away.
“What about Belmont?” I said instead. “I told you you shouldn’t trust him.”
“I can’t believe he’s a counterfeiter,” said Lincoln. “He’s been honest and forthright in all our dealings.”
“It’s here in black and white,” I protested, waving the article in my hand.
Lincoln sighed. “There’s nothing to do but ask him. He’s at Hoffman’s Row right now. We were just working out the final details f
or the gold transfer when I received word Miss Todd had taken ill. Give me the article and I’ll ask him about it.”
“I’m coming too,” I said. “I’ve never trusted him.”
Lincoln looked like he was going to object, but then he relented, and after exchanging promises with Miss Todd that we would see each other soon, the two of us headed for his office at Hoffman’s Row.
“I’m glad we’re back in league together,” said Lincoln as we walked. “And this shows the value of the unsent letter.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s a trick a friend taught me when I lived in New Salem. When I’m angry with someone, I mean really furious, I’ll write a letter to the person detailing all the ways they’ve wronged me. Every chapter and verse. Then I put the letter into a drawer and never send it. Writing it gets the anger out of my mind, most of it anyway, and there’s no benefit in confronting the other person again. These things usually die away.”
“I’d like to see the letter you wrote me sometime,” I said, smiling. “I bet it’d make for good reading.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” said Lincoln seriously. “Anyway, I burnt it a few days ago, once I realized our feud would end before long.”
It appeared a winter blizzard had swept through Lincoln’s law office. The writing table in the center of the room was littered with pleadings and loose scraps of paper. A patina of papers had fallen off the table and lay on the floor, tracing the outline of the table like snow surrounding the base of a soaring pine. The reclining lounge of Lincoln’s law partner Stuart, who was back east in Washington doing his duty in Congress, was covered by another impending avalanche of papers.
Belmont sat beside Lincoln’s table, perusing one stack of papers among the many on the desk. “How is Miss Todd?” he asked as we entered.
“Never better,” said Lincoln. “It was a false alarm.”
Without preamble, I threw the newspaper article about Belmont’s arrest for forgery onto the table. “How do you explain this?” I demanded.
Belmont’s eyes flicked over to Lincoln. “Has Speed shown you?” Lincoln nodded.
Belmont picked up the article, folded it, and slipped it into his pocket. “I had assumed,” he said slowly, “that a man’s private belongings were treated with respect in this town.”
“How do you explain it?” I repeated.
Belmont swallowed, collected himself. “It’s simple. You see, I planted the article myself.”
“What?”
“When I first ventured to the western expanse of your vast nation, I realized at once the peculiar challenges of running a money-lending operation in this territory. There are, I soon learned, bandits and bankers, and it’s often impossible to tell the one from the other. The one often is the other.”
“You’ll get no argument from me,” I said. “But how does it explain the crime that’s detailed in the newspaper?”
Belmont gave one of his elegant shrugs. If my discovery of the incriminating article had momentarily thrown him off stride, he had regained his balance with the utmost rapidity. “There are times when I must operate amongst respectable men, such as Mr. Lincoln and his colleagues in the state legislature. For those occasions, I naturally have my uniform.” He gestured at his immaculate frockcoat and trousers. “And there are other times when I must operate amongst thieves. For those occasions, likewise, I must have the proper trappings.” He indicated the pocket into which he had placed the newspaper article.
“What are you saying?”
“Just as persons like Mr. Lincoln have certain expectations about their partners in business, so do bandits have such expectations. In the latter case, the expectation is that their business partners be thoroughly disreputable. So I wrote up the article, took it to a printing office, and had it struck off upon a piece of newspaper which was printed on the opposite side. And then I trimmed the edges to give it the appearance of having been cut from a newspaper. Ever since, I have carried it on my person, to use as circumstances may require.”
I stared at the man, dumbfounded. It was the least plausible explanation for abject criminality I had ever heard in my life. It was so obviously false, I thought, that it could almost be true. And yet, it was inconceivable that the tale was true.
“You don’t believe him, do you, Lincoln?” I asked the man.
Lincoln was silent. He was slouched against the back of his chair, his long legs splayed outward and his unshaven chin resting on tented fingers.
“There’s another thing,” I said to Belmont. “I’ve heard you’ve been spending a lot of time at the American House with Henry Trailor. The low-lived person who’s accused his brothers of murder. Do you deny it?”
“I admit it,” said Belmont. “Henry and I have become well acquainted.”
“What explanation do you have for that?”
“Do you intend to justify for me every one of your acquaintances?” For the first time, there was a hint of anger in Belmont’s voice, but it quickly receded. “It is no matter. I’ve learned to hold my potential enemies near to me. As near as possible. It is another type of protection.”
“But why is Henry Trailor your enemy?”
“Until the gold shipment is securely in place, everyone is a potential enemy.”
“There was an article in the Daily Chicago American,” I said, “speculating about the exact date and path of the shipment. What is it?”
Belmont and Lincoln exchanged glances. I thought I saw Lincoln give a tiny nod. “We’re keeping the details secret,” said Belmont, “but I suppose there’s no harm telling you. The gold’s coming from St. Louis. I’ve arranged for my bank to make a withdrawal from the federal reserve depot there.”
“And what’s the plan to get the shipment from St. Louis to Chicago?”
“The trunk will be leaving St. Louis tomorrow,” said Belmont. “It will come by packet steamer from St. Louis upriver as far as Peoria Lake, and overland by stagecoach from there to Chicago.” Belmont paused. “Only a few men know the final route we decided on. As you’ve noted, it could prove a tempting target, if anyone with bad intentions got wind of the plan.”
“And you have the trunk carefully protected?”
Belmont nodded. “I’ve taken care of the details myself. I have two men, my very best, guarding it at all times.”
I must have looked skeptical, because Lincoln added, “It’s his gold, Speed. We’ve agreed to borrow money from Belmont. You can’t be suggesting he’s planning to steal his own gold.”
I hadn’t thought about this, but an answer immediately occurred to me. “Why not? He just admitted he’s made all the arrangements for the protection of the shipment himself. So he arranges with some banditti confederates to steal the gold, and then he comes back to you and the legislature and demands you honor the terms of the loan. Forces you to pay him back. And he doubles his money, just like that. There’s nothing in your agreement that discharges the state’s debt if the shipment gets stolen, is there?”
Lincoln shook his head.
“It’s the perfect plan.” I turned to Belmont. “Do you deny it?”
“Of course I deny it,” said the banker. “It’s ridiculous.”
“I think it’s plausible,” I said. “Very plausible. You should have your own form of protection of the shipment, Lincoln.”
“I already do,” replied Lincoln, but when I gestured for him to continue, he did not elaborate.
Belmont used his walking stick to push himself to his feet. He bowed formally in turn to me and to Lincoln. “It has come time to wish each of you a good afternoon. As always, I have found our conversations most enlightening.”
“Who are you?” I blurted out.
“I am August Belmont of the Free City of Frankfurt.”
“Are you banker or bandit?”
Belmont smiled the smile of a man leaving the chessboard after executing an elegant checkmate. “I am August Belmont of the Free City of Frankfurt.” And he turned on his heels
and strode from the room.
CHAPTER 24
The newspapers in the following days were alive with speculation about the gold shipment. If Lincoln and Belmont were trying to keep the details of the transfer a secret, they were doing a poor job of it. By the middle of the week, the general outlines of the plan conveyed to me in confidence by Belmont were practically a matter of public knowledge. My suspicions that Belmont somehow planned to steal his own gold grew steadily, but whenever I raised the idea, Lincoln dismissed it out of hand.
Meanwhile, I continued to search for evidence exonerating Archibald. It had been a full moon on the night of the American House gala. Surely someone had seen something. I asked everyone who came into my store if he or she had been anywhere near the millpond on the evening in question. None had. I repeated the same question up and down the common table at the Globe Tavern, morning and evening, with a similar lack of results. I even stopped by the offices of the town’s two biggest professional gossips, the newspaperman Simeon Francis and the postmaster James Keyes. But neither man had heard anything of relevance.
That evening, I decided to continue my investigations at Torrey’s Temperance Hotel, the shabbiest public room in town and the place where, the name notwithstanding, it was easiest to achieve a cheap drunk. The moon-faced Torrey scowled when I entered, but he otherwise left me alone as I circulated through the dark, dank room, asking the men present whether they had seen anything by the millpond on the night of the full moon. Again my questions came up empty, but I was offered a number of full glasses, which I was too polite to decline.
A few hours and more than a few drinks later, I was back out on the gently rolling streets, weaving my way toward our lodgings. It was a cool, clear night, and the waxing moon and a full firmament of stars lit my path. My serpentine route took me past the grand entrance of the American House. As I passed, the front door suddenly swung open and a rush of feminine energy swept down the steps, accompanied by flowing auburn hair and translucent green eyes. I gulped.
“What good fortune to encounter you, Mr. Speed,” came a breathy voice that made my insides melt. “I had just resolved I would have to set off in search of you in the morning.”
A House Divided Page 15
