The Double Barrelled Detective Story | Page 9

brought that
with me.

SILVER GULCH, June 12 The Denver episode has never found its
way here, I think. I know the most of the men in camp, and they have
never referred to it, at least in my hearing. Fuller doubtless feels quite
safe in these conditions. He has located a claim, two miles away, in an
out-of-the-way place in the mountains; it promises very well, and he is
working it diligently. Ah, but the change in him! He never smiles, and
he keeps quite to himself, consorting with no one--he who was so fond
of company and so cheery only two months ago. I have seen him
passing along several times recently-- drooping, forlorn, the spring
gone from his step, a pathetic figure. He calls himself David Wilson.
I can trust him to remain here until we disturb him. Since you insist, I
will banish him again, but I do not see how he can be unhappier than he
already is. I will go hack to Denver and treat myself to a little season of
comfort, and edible food, and endurable beds, and bodily decency; then
I will fetch my things, and notify poor papa Wilson to move on.
DENVER, June 19 They miss him here. They all hope he is prospering
in Mexico, and they do not say it just with their mouths, but out of their
hearts. You know you can always tell. I am loitering here overlong, I
confess it. But if you were in my place you would have charity for me.
Yes, I know what you will say, and you are right: if I were in your
place, and carried your scalding memories in my heart--
I will take the night train back to-morrow.
DENVER, June 20 God forgive us, mother, me are hunting the wrong
man! I have not slept any all night. I am now awaiting, at dawn, for the
morning train--and how the minutes drag, how they drag!
This Jacob Fuller is a cousin of the guilty one. How stupid we have
been not to reflect that the guilty one would never again wear his own
name after that fiendish deed! The Denver Fuller is four years younger
than the other one; he came here a young widower in '79, aged
twenty-one--a year before you were married; and the documents to
prove it are innumerable. Last night I talked with familiar friends of his
who have known him from the day of his arrival. I said nothing, but a
few days from now I will land him in this town again, with the loss

upon his mine made good; and there will be a banquet, and a torch-light
procession, and there will not be any expense on anybody but me. Do
you call this "gush"? I am only a boy, as you well know; it is my
privilege. By and by I shall not be a boy any more.
SILVER GULCH, July 3 Mother, he is gone! Gone, and left no trace.
The scent was cold when I came. To-day I am out of bed for the first
time since. I wish I were not a boy; then I could stand shocks better.
They all think he went west. I start to-night, in a wagon--two or three
hours of that, then I get a train. I don't know where I'm going, but I
must go; to try to keep still would be torture.
Of course he has effaced himself with a new name and a disguise. This
means that I may have to search the whole globe to find him. Indeed it
is what I expect. Do you see, mother? It is I that am the Wandering Jew.
The irony of it! We arranged that for another.
Think of the difficulties! And there would be none if I only could
advertise for him. But if there is any way to do it that would not
frighten him, I have not been able to think it out, and I have tried till
my brains are addled. "If the gentleman who lately bought a mine in
Mexico and sold one in Denver will send his address to" (to whom,
mother!), "it will be explained to him that it was all a mistake; his
forgiveness will be asked, and full reparation made for a loss which he
sustained in a certain matter." Do you see? He would think it a trap.
Well, any one would. If I should say, "It is now known that he was not
the man wanted, but another man--a man who once bore the same name,
but discarded it for good reasons"--would that answer? But the Denver
people would wake up then and say "Oho!" and they would remember
about the suspicious greenbacks, and say, "Why did he run away if