Allan Pinkerton

Pietro Bernardi and the Detective become Warm Friends.—A "TÊte-À-TÊte" worth One Thousand Dollars.

When Pietro Bernardi left the Morito residence, he sauntered downtown in a leisurely manner, with Newton carefully following at a safe distance. Bernardi was evidently vain of his personal appearance, for he was dissatisfied with his ready-made outfit, and, entering a fashionable tailoring establishment, he was measured for a complete suit of clothes. The rest of the forenoon was spent in buying shirts, underclothing, trinkets, and toilet articles of quite an expensive character. After a hasty lunch at a restaurant, Bernardi walked to the post-office, where he met a man whose appearance indicated unmistakably the professional gambler. They seemed to be old acquaintances, and, after taking a drink together, they conversed for some time in low tones. Finally they separated, and Bernardi went to his lodgings. About six o'clock he reappeared, and Newton followed him to the post-office again, where the gambler, who was waiting in the morning, was met apparently by appointment. The two men walked a short distance together, and then disappeared up a stairway, which, Newton was certain, led to gambling rooms. He waited outside nearly an hour undecided what to do, but at length he went upstairs among a crowd of young sports, who seemed to know the ways of the place, and he was allowed to pass in with them unquestioned. He found Bernardi just rising from the dinner-table, which the proprietors of the gambling house were in the habit of setting for their regular patrons. The faro-table was in full blast, and Bernardi was soon seated at it with the air of an old habituÉ. He was thenceforward so deeply interested in the game as to pay no attention to anything else, and, as he was unusually lucky, his pile of gold pieces rapidly increased. Newton took a position at his elbow and watched the game in silence for some minutes. At length, seeing Bernardi win a large stake, he said in a familiar tone:

"You are unusually lucky to-night, and I see you play for all the game is worth."

Keeping his eyes intently fastened upon the dealer's box, Bernardi replied carelessly:

"Yes, this is a game where a man must put down his money freely if he wants to win."

The next turn of the cards was doubly lucky for Bernardi, and, as he raked in his winnings, he glanced up at Newton, scanned his face a moment, and said:

"I think I have met you in New Orleans, have I not?"

"Very likely, for I have often been there; but I do not recall your name, though your face is quite familiar to me."

"Why, certainly," continued Bernardi, apparently quite pleased at the idea of meeting an old New Orleans acquaintance; "my name is Pietro Bernardi, and I have often seen you in the rooms of French Joe on Magazine street."

"Oh! yes, I used to go there a good deal, and we must have met frequently. Let us take something for old acquaintance' sake."

This was taking a short cut to Bernardi's friendship, and as the two stood before the sideboard clicking glasses together, a stranger would have supposed them to be old cronies, as indeed Bernardi actually believed to be the case. Newton instantly saw that Bernardi's frequent drinks during the day and his later potations in the evening had rendered him somewhat intoxicated; he was not drunk, for he had a perfect comprehension of his actions, but he had drunk enough to be very happy, and he probably saw in Newton's face a hazy resemblance to some one he had known in New Orleans. He soon returned to the faro-table, and, taking his seat, asked Newton whether he intended to do any betting.

"No, not to-night," Newton replied, yawning. "I am very tired and restless, and I make it a rule never to bet when my nerves are shaky."

"Well, that is a mighty good rule," said Bernardi, as he put out a pile of gold pieces. "If you will only stick to that plan, you will be sure to win. I can always feel when luck is with me, and if I could only make up my mind to stop when I know that I cannot win, I should be as successful as could be wished; but sometimes I get obstinate when the cards begin to run against me, and then I buck against fate until I lose all."

Having an absorbing interest in the game, Bernardi talked very little after this, but about eleven o'clock he counted his winnings, and, finding that they amounted to more than two hundred dollars, he decided to withdraw. In company with Newton, therefore, he left the room, and entered a bar-room below. They drank and chatted together a short time, and then separated, Bernardi going to a well-known house of ill-repute, while Newton carefully dogged his footsteps unseen. Knowing that Bernardi intended to spend the night where he was, Newton returned to his own lodgings. They had agreed to meet at the post-office about eleven o'clock next day, and Newton knew that his services would not be required before that hour.

About eleven o'clock in the forenoon, Newton and Bernardi met at the post-office, as agreed, and, after a morning dram together, they went to a restaurant for breakfast.

"How did you enjoy yourself yesterday evening?" asked Newton, as they were finishing their meal.

"Oh! very well indeed. I met a young lady whom I used to know in New Orleans, and she was very lovely; but I shall never meet one like my seÑorita. She was the most beautiful woman living;" and, as he spoke, Bernardi sighed deeply, and became moody, silent, and abstracted.

"Yes; I recollect having seen her with you once in New Orleans," replied Newton, on a venture; "is she dead?"

"No, —— —— her! I wish she was," replied Bernardi, savagely. "She started to come North with me, and I gave her everything she could ask; but when I had won a large sum of money at Natchez, she stole several thousand dollars from me, and disappeared with a Mississippi gambler, whom she had never seen but twice. I didn't care for the money, but I loved her passionately, and I cannot think of her without becoming enraged. Come, let us go get some brandy; I always have to drink when I think of her."

While they were drinking together, Newton asked Bernardi if he was always fortunate in gaming.

"Oh! no, indeed; why, less than a week ago I had not a cent to buy my breakfast, and I did not know whether to enlist in the army or commit suicide."

"Then your present success is marvelous, for you must have won, in all, four or five hundred dollars," said Newton, inquiringly.

"No, I did not win it all; in fact, I could not have done so, for I did not have a dime to start with; but I met an old friend here who gave me a few hundreds, and who will give me more when I want it."

"That's the kind of a friend to have," said Newton, warmly; "come, let us drink again to his health. I wish I had met you before, for I would have been glad to divide with you. We ought always to stand by each other, especially we Southerners, among these Yankee gamblers."

"Yes, that is true," replied Bernardi, taking an immense drink of brandy; "they are not so generous to each other as we are down South. Now, my friend, whom I spoke of, is one of the right sort. He gave me enough for a new outfit, and has promised to give me a good sum when I am ready to go South again."

"Is he a Southerner too?" asked Newton.

"Oh! yes," Bernardi replied, "he is from Peru, where I first met him, and we have had many a gay time together. I used to keep a fine suite of gambling rooms, which he frequented, and he used to play with the utmost indifference to the results; he always seemed equally unmoved whether he won or lost."

"I suppose you must have been very warm friends," said Newton, "or he would not now be so ready to assist you?"

"Well, Don Juan is a very liberal fellow, I admit," answered Bernardi; "but he might not be so generous were it not to his interest to be so," he continued, with a knowing wink.

"Oh! ho! I see," replied Newton, nodding his head expressively. "Your friend would not care to have you talk about his past history, I suppose?"

"Exactly; he knows that I could tell some things about him which might spoil his pleasure here, and so he is anxious to keep on good terms with me. However, he needn't fear me as long as he treats me decently, for I do not wish to injure him, and when I am ready to go I shall get a good sum from him to start me in business elsewhere."

"Suppose he should refuse to give you anything more, or have you arrested for blackmailing him," suggested Newton.

"I'd like to see him try it," Bernardi exclaimed, with a volley of oaths. "I guess two could play at the game of swearing out warrants, and when the account was balanced, his imprisonment would be twenty times as long as mine. No, no; I have no fear that he will attempt such a thing."

"I merely spoke of it as a possibility," said Newton, "in order that you should be on your guard. A man with wealth and position might succeed in crushing a friendless poor man in spite of the latter's protestations. However, if any such thing should happen, you can depend upon it that I will work for you until you are released."

"That's right, my friend," replied Bernardi, as he called for another drink of brandy. "If I should suddenly disappear without warning to you, don't fail to search for me everywhere, and I will see that you are handsomely rewarded. If Don Juan should attempt any treachery, I should have him at my mercy as soon as I should get free, and, together, we could squeeze a large sum out of him."

Newton spent the day with Bernardi, and they became quite inseparable. After driving about the city for an hour or two, they attended a matinÉe performance at one of the theatres, and then had a long and sumptuous dinner at a fashionable restaurant. In the evening they went to the gambling-rooms where they had met the night before, and Bernardi was soon absorbed in the game of faro. His luck still clung to him, and, on leaving the place at midnight, he had won three hundred dollars more. As before, Bernardi went to enjoy the society of his New Orleans charmer, and Newton went to his own lodgings.

After Newton had made his report to me, early the next morning, I told him to continue his intimacy with Bernardi, and to pump him as thoroughly as possible relative to Don Pedro's past history. Soon after his departure to meet Bernardi, Senator Muirhead and Judge Key entered, and we discussed the possibility of doing anything with this new witness, Pietro Bernardi.

"Would it not be possible to frighten him into telling all he knows of Don Pedro?" asked the Senator.

"I hardly think we could," I replied. "In the first place, you have no charge whatever against Bernardi, nor any reason to suppose that he has ever been a criminal anywhere; hence, how could we frighten him? Moreover, he is a man of considerable nerve, and he would see that, as against third parties, his interests would be best served by supporting, instead of attacking, Don Pedro. No, I don't see anything to be gained as yet by showing our hands. Our object is to recover possession of the money paid to the Don for those bogus diamond fields, and to do that, we must wait until we have a sure case against him for his crimes committed elsewhere."

"I agree with you wholly," added Judge Key. "Besides, this fellow, Bernardi, knows nothing of the Don's forgeries and frauds except those committed in Peru, and as we have before shown, we could make no use of those accusations until we hear from Peru. Indeed, it is questionable how far we can proceed even then, for we have no extradition treaty with that country."

"Well, I do not mind that very much," I replied, "for my chief dependence is upon the moral effect upon Don Pedro. I think that we can so work upon him as to obtain his consent to go to Peru voluntarily, rather than to be detained here until a requisition arrives from England. He knows that if he be sent to England, he will be transported for a long term of years; whereas, in Peru, he may avoid conviction altogether, or purchase his escape after conviction."

"But can we make him give up his plunder?" asked the Senator, anxiously.

"I think we can," said I. "You see that he is liable to be held here for obtaining money under false pretenses, and during the trial the money could be taken by attachment. Then, even though he should not be convicted, the delay would enable us to make sure of sending him back to London, where a heavy sentence would undoubtedly be given him. Now, by representing these things to him, we shall induce him to hand over the money voluntarily, and after that we shall not care whether he is taken to Great Britain or Peru."

"If that be the case, why not arrest him now and get the advices from London afterward?" asked the Senator, who was very anxious to hasten matters.

"Because we could not present a sufficient case to hold him under the preliminary examination," replied Judge Key. "When we get official news of the fellow's character from Peru, we shall have a sure thing against him, and then I shall feel ready to act; but I agree with Mr. Pinkerton that there would be danger in overhaste. You see, we have him carefully watched, and there is no probability that he intends to make off until after this fÊte champÊtre; therefore, let us wait for our foreign advices as long as we can, and in case he prepares to go before they arrive, it will be time enough to arrest him then."

"How about the Donna?" asked Muirhead. "Do you propose to take any steps against her?"

"I don't see how we can," I replied. "With the exception of the sums she has received from Mather, she has obtained nothing fraudulently; and, as you may well suppose, we could never get Mather to testify against her; so I guess we need not trouble ourselves to interfere with the lovely Donna at all."

Our conference then broke up with the understanding that we should assemble again the moment any new facts in the case should be developed. Just after the gentlemen had left, Madame Sevier came in and reported a scene between Mather and the Donna which had taken place the previous evening.

The Don had remained at home entertaining various guests until nine o'clock. He had then gone out with Lesparre and several other gentlemen, to attend a banquet and ball given by a semi-political club at one of the hotels. The affair was attended by many highly respectable ladies, particularly by those whose husbands had any political aspirations, but it was not sufficiently exclusive to satisfy the Donna, and she remained at home. The visitors gradually dropped out until only Mr. Mather remained, and then Madame Sevier excused herself, on the plea of fatigue, in order to retire. Instead of going to her room, however, she hastened to the library and hid herself behind a statue standing in a deep bay window, which was heavily shrouded with drapery and curtains. Thus placed, she was completely hidden from the sight of any one in the library, though she had a perfect view herself, and she could hear every word spoken in the room.

As she expected, the Donna soon entered, followed by Mr. Mather. The latter seemed to consider that the Donna could refuse him nothing, for he put his arms around her, and was about to kiss her, when he found her fan quickly interposed between their faces.

"You are too free with your caresses, SeÑor Mather," she said, coldly, slipping out of his embrace, and pointing out a chair to him at some distance from the sofa, upon which she seated herself.

Poor Mather was quite astonished, for, having kissed her several times before, he supposed that he could continue doing so whenever he wished; but the Donna was an expert fisher of men, and she recognized the force of that old proverb, "Familiarity breeds contempt;" besides, she wanted some more money, and she knew that her elderly lover would gladly purchase her kisses at a round price. The folly of giving them away gratis could not be indulged in, therefore, and she kept her sighing swain at a distance for a little time. She was too politic to give even the slightest hint of her object in the conversation which ensued, but she used every possible allurement to fascinate her victim, while she would allow him no liberties nor caresses. Mather could not fail to recollect the affectionate manner in which she had received his previous gifts, and he therefore decided to try the same policy again.

"I saw a beautiful camel's hair shawl to-day," he said, "and I was going to get it for you, my dear Lucia, but I did not know whether it would suit you, and so I determined to let you select your own gift. The shawl was worth one thousand dollars, and I made up my mind to give you the amount that I should have paid for it, and you could then exercise your own taste."

"Oh! my dear Henry," she exclaimed, "how thoughtful you are! How can I sufficiently thank you?" and she made room for him on the sofa, as he advanced holding out a roll of bills.

"You know how you can please me best," he answered, tenderly, bending over her.

"Oh! really, Henry, you mustn't," she protested, feebly, as he showered kisses on her cheeks and lips; "suppose any one should come in!"

As she spoke, a carriage stopped in front of the house, and their affectionate tÊte-À-tÊte was interrupted by the unexpected return of Lesparre, who, having left his watch at home, had returned to get it. He did not enter the parlor nor the library, but the Donna seemed very much agitated at the mere possibility of being detected in a compromising situation, and so Mather took his departure. The coolness with which she counted the money, after he had gone, was in striking contrast with her simulated embarrassment while he was present, and it was plain that, having obtained the gift, she was quite glad to get rid of the giver. She went immediately to her room, and Madame Sevier then retired also.