had attended to a
portion of the accumulated business which I found awaiting me, when a
gentleman entered the outer office and asked one of my clerks whether he
could see me immediately on some very important business. Mr. Howard saw
by the gentleman's appearance, that the matter must be one of great
consequence, and, therefore, ushered the visitor into my private office,
without asking any questions.

"Mr. Pinkerton, I believe?" said the gentleman, as he advanced toward
me.

"Yes, sir," I replied; "what can I do for you?"

He took a letter from his pocket and handed it to me. I motioned him to
be seated, while I read the letter. I found it to be from my old friend
Chapman, a lawyer in New Haven, Connecticut, introducing the bearer,
Captain J. N. Sumner. The letter stated that Captain Sumner was a
resident of Springfield, Massachusetts, near which place he owned a
farm. He had a moderate fortune, and he was a most estimable man. Mr.
Chapman had known him for many years, during which time he had always
borne himself in an upright, straightforward manner, free from all
reproach. Lately, however, he had become involved in some very serious
difficulties in the West, and Mr. Chapman had advised him to see me, and
obtain my assistance in extricating himself from his troubles. Mr.
Chapman concluded by saying, that he was confident, that, if any one
could aid the Captain, I was the best person to consult.

I had not seen Mr. Chapman for some years, the last time having been
while I was attending to some business in which he was interested. He
was especially noted as a criminal lawyer being employed quite as often
for the prosecution, as for the defense. We were the best of friends,
and had cracked many a joke at each other's expense. He did not mention
the nature of the Captain's troubles in his letters, leaving that for
the Captain to do himself.

While I was reading the letter, I was aware that the Captain was
observing me closely, as if desirous of reading my very thoughts. When I
had finished, I said:

"Captain Sumner, I am glad to meet you. Any one bearing a letter from my
old friend Chapman, is welcome."

As I spoke, I looked straight at him, and took in his whole appearance.

He was apparently, about fifty years of age, but was very well
preserved, not a streak of gray being visible in his dark, curly hair.
He was slightly above the middle height, and his frame was
proportionally powerful, his limbs being well