text: Prologue
  
  Chicago, July, 1876
  
  Sarah Sloan strolled into work Wednesday morning, light on her feet as always. She went directly to her office and laid her wet umbrella in the corner to dry. As she did, she glanced over and saw a note on her desk.
  
  "Mister Barry wants to see you as soon as you arrive."
  
  Taking no thought for her appearance after coming in from the rainstorm, she headed for Barry's office with a notebook and pencil. She wondered what was so urgent. She knocked on Barry's office door and heard the muffled words, "Come in." When she opened the door, her boss looked up at her through his reading glasses, which made his eyes larger than usual.
  
  "Had a note that you wanted to see me, boss," Sarah said.
  
  "Yes... have a seat, Miss Sloan." That was Barry through and through, always formal in relations with his subordinates in the Chicago Office.
  
  Barry pulled over a file from the corner of his desk and opened it and took his time reading it. Eventually, he said, "We've been hired by a man to find his long-lost son, and you're assigned to the case."
  
  "Who is he?" Sarah asked.
  
  "He's lives on 186 South Prairie Avenue if that gives you any clue," Barry said.
  
  Sarah's eyes lit up. "That's one of the mansions."
  
  "Exactly! So go visit with the old man. His name is Landgrave Theodosius Gridleigh. All the details are here in the file." He handed her the folder. "Give reports to the client whenever he demands it and copy me on all communications. I'm told cost is no object. Spend whatever it takes but find his son. Pinkerton's reputation depends on it, and I'm depending on you, Sarah."
  
  An hour later, Sarah got out of the cab and looked up at the yellow sandstone mansion with its wide chiseled steps leading to the enormous front doors, made of the finest mahogany and lacquered to a gloss finish. She took the steps and pulled a tasseled red velvet rope at the side of the doors, which rang a bell inside the mansion.
  
  Sarah waited some time and was about to pull the velvet rope once again, but the door opened and a liveried servant said. "Yes, Miss?"
  
  "I'm here to see Mister Gridleigh," Sarah said.
  
  "Is he expecting you, Miss?" the servant asked.
  
  "Yes, he is," she said. "I'm Sarah Sloan from the Pinkerton Detective Agency."
  
  The servant stepped aside and said, "Come in, Miss." She stepped into an enormous hallway with a parquet floor of beautiful squares of marble laid diagonally to the front door. The servant advanced down the hall and said, "Follow me, Miss."
  
  He took her into an elegantly furnished room where everything was decorated in royal velvet. "Wait here, Miss, and I'll let the master know you're here."
  
  Sarah waited, looking at the enormous number of books that lined the walls of the room. Must be the library, she thought. She was engrossed studying the titles on one wall when a voice asked, "You like books, Miss Sloan?"
  
  She turned quickly and found a wizened old man standing near a door at the other side of the room. He was dressed in an elegant black suit and his cravat was perfectly arranged.
  
  "Well, yes, I do," Sarah said. "I read all the time. I assume you're Mister Gridleigh."
  
  "That's correct," the man said. "Come over and sit down, young lady. Make yourself comfortable. I have a story to tell you."
  
  Sarah strode over and sat down on the sofa where Gridleigh motioned, and Gridleigh himself sat in a chair at the side.
  
  "I told Barry I wanted his very best operative," Gridleigh said, "and I wasn't expecting it to be a woman, but I'm very glad to meet you."
  
  "I'm very good at what I do, Mister Gridleigh," Sarah said. "I've read the file with all the details you've given Mister Barry, and I have to say, I'm not sure we can find your son."
  
  "At least you're honest," Gridleigh countered.
  
  "Well, if he's changed his name, and many do, especially on the western frontier where some people don't want to be found, it'll be virtually impossible. Having said that, however, if he can be found, I'll find him. I'll leave no stone unturned, no clue unchecked."
  
  "Okay," Gridleigh said. "It's very important to me that he be found, and there are lots of details that are not contained in your file. My intention is to give you all the details, even the sordid details, because whatever I say might help you in your investigation.
  
  "Let me start at the beginning," Gridleigh said. "Do you have any idea what a landgrave is, Miss Sloan?"
  
  "No, I'm afraid I don't," she said.
  
  "Not surprising. Almost nobody does. My ancestor was named Theodosius Gridleigh, and he came to South Carolina in 1669 from England, the second son of Viscount Gridleigh of Norfolk. The powers that be at the time intended to set up an aristocracy in the new world much like that of the old world. And they actually did set up such an aristocracy, but it has not survived. At the top were what were called landgraves, like a count or an earl. Each landgrave was given 48,000 acres of land. And the landgraves added the title to their names, so my ancestor became Landgrave Theodosius Gridleigh.
  
  "And since that time down to me, we've all had the same name, Landgrave Theodosius Gridleigh. I'm the eighth in line, and the line will die with me unless you find my son, who would be ninth in line.
  
  "My father, the seventh landgrave, was smart enough to sell all his holdings in South Carolina in the late 1850s. He moved to New York City and increased the family fortune immensely by teaming up with Jay Gould and trading gold. When the Union Army won a battle, the price went up. When the Union Army lost a battle, it went down. Gould and my father manipulated the price of gold unmindful of what it might cost others. At one point, they shipped gold to England to cause a shortage in the states, and they made money when gold went up or down. Made no difference to them.
  
  "I lived in South Carolina before moving to New York City with my father, and I participated with him in these money-making schemes. After he passed in 1866, I retired and moved to Chicago and built this house, and now I'm sick. Doctors say I have anywhere from six months to a year to live at most. It's important to me that my son be found because he'll inherit everything I have, a fortune that varies from day to day, but is in the range of $30 million.
  
  "I never married, Miss Sloan, but I must admit I had numerous love affairs. I always thought most women cared for me because of my wealth. There was one time I seriously considered marrying a woman named Lila Milburn, but then I was too scared to actually get married and share my life with someone. When I let her know I wouldn't marry her, Lila left and I never saw her again.
  
  "A lot of people seek me out for donations to their causes. A few months ago, I had a visit from Father Michael Walsh of St. Anthony's parish. He's been there a good number of years and recently was ordained a monsignor, and now he's in charge of both the parish and the orphanage. He came seeking a donation for a campaign to refurbish the orphanage. While we were talking, he told me an interesting story.
  
  He said, 'When I first became a priest I was assigned to St. Anthony's, and one morning, I walked into the sanctuary to find a little boy asleep on one of the benches. Couldn't have been more than two years old. He had a sign pinned to his coat that said, 'I'm sorry I can't keep my son. I don't have enough money to buy food for myself or him. His name is Landgrave Theodosius Gridleigh Milburn. Please take care of him.' I still have that note in my files somewhere, but I remember it almost word for word.
  
  "I realized then that there was a strong possibility that Lila Milburn had given birth to a son that I'd fathered. She was from Chicago, but I'd met her in New York City before moving here. When Father Walsh told me about the boy, I was filled with a deep sadness that I'd misjudged Lila. She'd never sought a single thing from me even though she was penniless, but she wanted her son to know where he came from, so she'd given him my name. At least I think that's what happened.
  
  "Father Walsh said they'd never found a stable home for the boy. He'd lived with several families, but the one constant in his life was St. Anthony's parish and school. He attended school there from the first grade until he was booted out for fighting when he was 16. Father Walsh said that the boy hadn't been at fault, but the other boys had wealthy parents who insisted the boy be expelled, which Father Anselm, the priest in charge at the time, had done. Since then, nobody seems to know what happened to the boy.
  
  "Now it could be that this is all a mistake and that I'm really not the father, but my deepest instincts tell me different. I want you to find this man, who'd be something like 25 years old now. If you can, I'd like you to coax him to come and speak with me. And I don't care what it takes. If he insists, you're authorized to pay him any amount up to $50,000 if he'll come and see me."
  
  "That's quite a story, Mister Gridleigh," Sloan said.
  
  "And it may be just a tall tale, but I have to find out. If I have a son, I want to meet him urgently."
  
  "I'll give it my best effort," Sarah said, "and I'll certainly keep you informed along the way. As soon as I leave here, I'll start the search. There will be no delay."