ing outdoors Mrs.
Bott went for him, and on these occasions often called at Flechter's
store to report progress, ask his advice and secure his encouragement.

One day during one of these visits in the July following the loss of the
violin Flechter handed Mrs. Bott a sheet of paper, saying:

"I have written something down here. If you have that printed and put a
reward to it you will get your violin back."

The wording, partly printed and partly written in script, ran as
follows:

VIOLIN LOST. $500 REWARD.

No questions asked for return of instrument taken from residence of
Jean Bott March 31, 1894, 355 W. 31st St. Absolute safety and
secrecy guaranteed. Victor S. Flechter, No. 21 Union Square, violin
maker and dealer.

Mrs. Bott thanked him and took the notice away with her, but its
publication had no result. The old professor began to fail, he no longer
had an instrument upon which to teach his pupils, and those he could
avail himself of seemed harsh and discordant. He had no appetite, and
even found no solace in his pipe. Almost penniless they were forced to
give up their lodgings and move to Hoboken. Mrs. Bott still kept up the
search, but the professor could no longer tramp the streets looking for
his violin. He sat silent in his room, slowly, surely, dying of a broken
heart.

In course of time some one advised Mrs. Bott to lay her case before the
District Attorney, and accordingly, during the summer, she visited the
Criminal Courts Building and told her story to Colonel Allen, one of the
assistants, who became greatly interested. The overwrought old woman had
begun to suspect everybody, and even to accuse her husband's friend,
Flechter, of a lack of any real interest. She thought he ought to be
able to find the violin if he really made the effort. Allen began to
take notice. The sleuth in him pricked up its ears. Why, sure,
certainly, Flechter was the one man who knew what Bott's violin was
really worth--the one man who could sell it to advantage--and he had
been done out of five hundred dollars by the old musician's stupidity.
Allen thought he'd take a look into the thing. Now, there lived in the
same boarding-house with Allen a friend of his named Harry P. Durden,
and to Durden Allen recounted the story of the lost violin and voiced
his suspicions of Flechter. Durden entered enthusiastically into the
case, volunteering to play the part of an amateur detective. Accordingly
Durden, acco