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                           A MODERN WIZARD

                                  BY

                         RODRIGUES OTTOLENGUI
    AUTHOR OF "AN ARTIST IN CRIME," "A CONFLICT OF EVIDENCE," ETC.


                         G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
            NEW YORK                            LONDON
    27 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET        24 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND
                       The Knickerbocker Press
                                 1894


                           COPYRIGHT, 1894
                                  BY
                         G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
                 Entered at Stationers' Hall, London


                  Electrotyped, Printed and Bound by
                  The Knickerbocker Press, New York
                         G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS




                                  TO

                        HON. GEORGE P. ANDREWS

                   JUSTICE OF THE SUPREME COURT OF
                        THE STATE OF NEW YORK

           WHO IS RECOGNIZED, NOT ONLY AS AN EMINENT JURIST
                    BUT AS A TYPE OF HUMAN JUSTICE
                         AND LEGAL INTEGRITY

                 THIS WORK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED




CONTENTS.


BOOK FIRST.

  CHAPTER                                     PAGE
     I.--LAWYER AND CLIENT                       1
    II.--JACK BARNES INVESTIGATES               17
   III.--A WIZARD'S TRICK                       32
    IV.--DR. MEDJORA SURRENDERS                 53
     V.--FOR THE PROSECUTION                    70
    VI.--DAMAGING TESTIMONY                     84
   VII.--THE PROSECUTION RESTS                 101
  VIII.--FOR THE DEFENCE                       120
    IX.--THE DEFENCE CLOSES                    137
     X.--MR. BLISS MAKES HIS SPEECH            149
    XI.--TERMINATION OF THE GREAT CASE         165

BOOK SECOND.

     I.--ONE NIGHT                             183
    II.--A FRIEND IN NEED                      205
   III.--SELLING A NEW ENGLAND FARM            225
    IV.--AN OMINOUS WELCOME                    239
     V.--A FACE FROM THE PAST                  257
    VI.--AGNES DUDLEY                          272
   VII.--A WIZARD'S TEACHING                   288
  VIII.--THE FAITHFUL DOG                      311
    IX.--A WIZARD'S KNOWLEDGE                  330
     X.--THE BETROTHAL                         347
    XI.--THE GENESIS OF LOVE                   362
   XII.--THE MARQUIS OF LOSSY                  375
  XIII.--THE DISCOVERY                         392
   XIV.--SANATOXINE                            407




A MODERN WIZARD.

BOOK FIRST.




CHAPTER I.

LAWYER AND CLIENT.


Early one morning, in the spring of eighteen hundred and
seventy-three, two young lawyers were seated in their private office.
The firm name, painted in gilt letters upon the glass of the door, was
DUDLEY & BLISS. Mortimer Dudley was the senior member, though not over
thirty years old. Robert Bliss was two years younger.

Mr. Dudley was sorting some papers and deftly tying them into bundles
with red tape. Why lawyers will persist in using tape of a sanguine
color is an unsolvable mystery to me, unless it may be that they are
loath to disturb the many old adages in which the significant couplet
of words appears. However that may be, Mr. Dudley paused in his
occupation, attracted by an exclamation from his partner, who had been
reading a morning paper.

"What is it, Robert?" asked Mr. Dudley.

"Oh! Only another sensational murder case, destined, I imagine, to add
more lustre to the name of some lawyer who doesn't need it. Mortimer,
I wonder when our turn will come. Here we have been in these rooms for
three months, and not a criminal case has come to us yet."

"Don't be impatient, Robert. We must not give up hope. Look at Munson.
He was in the same class with us at college, and we all considered him
a dunce. By accident he was engaged to defend that fellow who was
accused of poisoning his landlady. Munson actually studied chemistry
in order to defend the case. His cross-examination of the
prosecution's experts made him famous. Who knows! We may get an
opportunity like that some day."

"Some day! Yes, some day! I believe there is a song that begins that
way. I always detested it. I do not like that word'some day.' It's so
beastly indefinite. I prefer 'to-day' or even 'to-morrow.' But let me
read to you the account of this case. It is about that young woman who
died so mysteriously, up in the boarding-house on West Twenty-sixth
Street."

"I don't know anything about it, Robert. I haven't read the papers for
three days. Tell me the main facts."

"Well, it is really a very curious story. It seems there was a young
girl, twenty or thereabouts, living in town temporarily, whilst she
studied music. Her name was Mabel Sloane. She is described as pretty,
though that is a detail that the reporters always add. But, pretty or
ugly, she died last Sunday morning, under rather peculiar
circumstances. The doctors differed as to the cause of death."

"Why, there is nothing odd about that, is there?" Mr. Dudley smiled at
his own wit. "Doctors disagree and the patient dies. That is the old
adage. You have only reversed it. Your patient died, and the doctors
then disagreed. Where's the odds?"

"The odds amount to this, Mortimer. One doctor signed a certificate of
death, naming diphtheria as the cause. The other physician reported to
the Board of Health that there were suspicious circumstances which led
him to think that the woman might have died from poison."

"Poison? This is interesting."

"The more you hear, the more you will think so. In yesterday's papers
it was announced that the Coroner had taken up the case, and that an
autopsy would be held."

"Does this morning's paper give the result of the post-mortem?"

"Yes. Listen! 'The autopsy upon the body of Mabel Sloane, the
beautiful young musician'--you see they still harp on the
beautiful--'young musician, whose mysterious death was reported
yesterday, shows conclusively that the girl was poisoned. The doctors
claim to have found morphine enough to kill three men. Thus the
caution of Dr. Meredith, in notifying the Health Board of his
suspicions, is to be commended. It is but just to say, however, that
the doctors who made the post-mortem, entirely exonerate Dr. Fisher,
the physician who certified that the death was caused by diphtheria,
for they claim, curiously enough, that the woman would undoubtedly
have died of that disease even if the morphine had not been
administered. This opens up a most interesting set of complications.
Why should any one poison a person who is about to die a natural
death? It might be claimed that the murderer did not know that a fatal
termination of the disease would ensue. This brings us to the most
interesting fact, that the one who is suspected by the police is no
other than the girl's sweetheart, who is himself a physician. Thus it
is plain that he should have known that the disease would probably
prove fatal, and under these circumstances it is almost inconceivable
that he should have resorted to poison. Nevertheless, the detectives
claim that they have incontestible evidence of his guilt, although
they refuse to reveal what their proofs are. However, some facts
leaked out yesterday which certainly tend to incriminate Dr. Emanuel
Medjora, the suspected man. In the first place, Dr. Medjora has
suddenly and completely disappeared. Inquiry at his office elicited
the statement that he has not been there since the day before
yesterday, which it will be remembered was the time when the Coroner
first came into the case. Dr. Medjora has not been at his residence,
and none of his friends has seen him. In short, if he had been
swallowed by an earthquake he could not have vanished more swiftly. He
was supposed to have been engaged to marry Miss Sloane, and as she was
a beautiful girl, accomplished, and altogether charming, it has
puzzled all who knew her, to understand why he should wish to destroy
her. Some light may be thrown upon this, however, by the discovery at
the autopsy, that she has been a mother. What has become of the child,
or where it was born, is still a part of the mystery. Miss Sloane has
lived at the Twenty-sixth Street house about three months, and as she
has always been cheerful and happy, the boarders cannot reconcile this
report of the doctors with what they knew of the woman. They claim,
with much reason, that if her baby had died she should have had
moments of despondency when her grief would have been noticeable. Or
if the child were alive, then why did she never allude to it? Another
significant fact is, that Dr. Medjora has been seen driving in the
Park, recently, with a handsome woman, stylishly dressed, and
evidently wealthy, as the coachman and footman wore expensive livery.
Did the Doctor tire of his pretty little musician, and wish to marry
his rich friend who owns the carriage and horses? His disappearance
lends color to the theory.' There, what do you think of that?" said
Mr. Bliss, throwing aside the newspaper.

"What do I think?" answered his partner. "I think that this will be a
great case. A chance for young men like us to make fame and fortune.
If we could only be retained by that man----"

The door from the outer office opened and young Jack Barnes, the
assistant, entered and handed Mr. Dudley a visiting card. The lawyer
looked at it, seemed astonished, said "Show the gentleman in," and
when Barnes had left the office, turned to his partner, handing him
the card, and, slightly excited, exclaimed:

"In heaven's name, Robert, look at that!"

Mr. Bliss took the card and read the name:

  EMANUEL MEDJORA, M.D.

The two young men looked at each other in silence, startled by the
coincidence, and wondering whether at last Dame Fortune was about to
smile upon them. A moment later Dr. Medjora entered.

Dr. Emanuel Medjora was no ordinary personage. His commanding stature
would attract attention anywhere, and the more he was observed the
more he incited curiosity. First as to his nationality. To what clime
did he owe allegiance by birth? One could scarcely decide. His name
might lead to the conclusion that he was Spanish, but save that his
skin was swarthy there was little to identify him with that type.
Perhaps, more than anything, he looked like the ideals which have been
given to us of Othello, though again his color was at fault, not being
so deep as the Moor's. He wore a black beard, close trimmed, and
pointed beneath the chin. His hair, also jetty, was longer than is
usually seen in New York, and quite straight, combed back from the
forehead without a part. The skull was large, the brain cavity being
remarkably well developed. Any phrenologist would have revelled in the
task of fingering his bumps. The physiognomist, also, would have
delighted to read the character of the man from the expressiveness of
his features, every one of which evidenced refined and cultured
intellectuality. The two, summing up their findings, would probably
have accredited the Doctor with all the virtues and half of the vices
that go to make up the modern man, not to mention many of the talents
commonly allotted to the rare geniuses of the world.

But according these scientists the freest scope in their examinations,
and giving them besides the assistance of the palmist, clairvoyant,
astrologist, chirographist, and all the other modern savants who
advertise to read our inmost thoughts, for sums varying in proportion
to the credulity of the applicant, and when all was told, it could not
be truthfully said that either, or all, had discovered about Dr.
Medjora aught save that which he may have permitted them to learn.
Probably no one thoroughly understood Dr. Medjora, except Dr. Medjora
himself. That he did comprehend himself, appreciating exactly his
abilities and his limitations, there cannot be a shadow of a doubt.
And it was this that made him such a master of men, being as he was so
completely the master of himself. Those who felt bound to admit that
in his presence they dwindled even in their own estimation, attributed
it to various causes, all erroneous, the true secret being what I have
stated. Some said that it was a certain magnetic power which he
exerted through his eyes. The Doctor's eyes certainly were remarkable.
Deep set in the head, and thus hidden by the beautifully arched brows,
they seemed to lurk in the shadow, and from their point of vantage to
look out at, and I may say into, the individual confronting him. I
remember the almost weird attraction of those eyes when I first met
him. Being at the time interested in an investigation of the phenomena
which have been attributed to mesmerism, hypnotism, and other "isms"
which are but different terms for the same thing, I could not resist
the impulse to ask him whether he had ever attempted any such
experiments. Evading my question, without apparently meaning to shirk
a reply, he merely smiled and said, "Do you believe in that sort of
thing?" Then he passed on and spoke to some one else. I relate the
incident merely to show the manner of the man. But on the point,
raised by some, that he controlled men by supernatural means, I think
that we must dismiss that hypothesis as untenable in the main. Of
course those who believed that he possessed some uncanny or mysterious
power of the eyes, might be influenced by his keen scrutiny, and would
probably reveal whatever he were endeavoring to extort from them. But
a true analysis would show that this was but an exhibition of their
weakness, rather than of his strength. Yet, after all, the man was
excessively intellectual, and as the eyes have been aptly called the
"windows of the soul," what more natural than that so self-centred and
wilful a man should find his lustrous orbs a great advantage to him
through life?

At the moment of his entrance into the private office of Messrs.
Dudley & Bliss, those two young men had partly decided that he was a
murderer. At sight of him, they both abandoned the conclusion. Thus it
will be seen that, if brought to the bar of justice, his presence
might equally affect the jury in his behalf. He held his polished silk
hat in his gloved hand, and looked keenly at each of the lawyers in
turn. Then turning towards Mr. Dudley he said:

"You are Mr. Dudley, I believe? The senior member of your firm?"

Mr. Bliss was insensibly annoyed, although very fond of his partner.
Being only two years his junior, he did not relish being so easily
relegated to the secondary status.

"My name is Dudley," replied the elder lawyer, "but unless you have
met me before, I cannot understand how you guessed my identity, as my
partner is scarcely at all younger than I am." Mr. Dudley understood
his partner's character very well, and wished to soothe any irritation
that may have been aroused. Dr. Medjora grasped the situation
instantly. Turning to Mr. Bliss he said with his most fascinating
manner:

"I am sure you are not offended at my ready discrimination as to your
respective ages. It is a habit of mine to observe closely. But youth
is nothing to be ashamed of surely, or if so, then I am the lesser
light here, for I am perhaps even younger than yourself, Mr. Bliss,
being but twenty-seven."

"Oh, not at all!" exclaimed Mr. Bliss, much mollified, and telling the
conventional lie with the easy grace which we all have acquired in
this nineteenth century. "You were quite right to choose between us.
Mr. Dudley is my superior----"

"In the firm name only, I am sure," interjected the Doctor. "Will you
shake hands, as a sign that you forgive my unintentional rudeness? But
stop. I am forgetting. I see that you have just been reading the
announcement"--he pointed to the newspaper lying where Mr. Bliss had
dropped it on a chair, folded so that the glaring head-lines were
easily read--"that I am a murderer!" He paused a moment and both
lawyers  deeply. Before they could speak, the Doctor again
addressed them. "You have read the particulars, and you have decided
that I am guilty. Am I not right?"

"Really, Dr. Medjora, I should hardly say that. You see----" Mr.
Dudley hesitated, and Dr. Medjora interrupted him, speaking sharply:

"Come! Tell me the truth! I want no polite lying. Stop!" Mr. Dudley
had started up, angry at the word "lying." "I do not intend any
insult; but understand me thoroughly. I have come here to consult you
in your professional capacity. I am prepared to pay you a handsome
retainer. But before I do so, I must be satisfied that you are the
sort of men in whose hands I may place my life. It is no light thing
for a man in my position to intrust such an important case to young
men who have their reputations to earn."

"If you do not think we are capable, why have you come to us?" asked
Mr. Bliss, hotly.

"You are mistaken. I do think you capable. But think is a very
indefinite word. I must know before I go further. That is why I asked,
and why I ask again, have you decided, from what you have read of my
case, that I am guilty? Upon your answer I will begin to estimate your
capability to manage my case."

The two young lawyers looked at each other a moment, embarrassed, and
remained silent. Dr. Medjora scrutinized them keenly. Finally, Mr.
Dudley decided upon his course, and spoke.

"Dr. Medjora, I will confess to you that before you came in, and, as
you have guessed, from reading what the newspaper says, I had decided
that you are guilty. But that was not a juridical deduction. That is,
it was not an opinion adopted after careful weighing of the evidence,
for, as it is here, it is all on one side. I regret now that I should
have formed an opinion so rashly, even though you were one in whom, at
the time, I supposed I would have no interest."

"Very good, Mr. Dudley," said the Doctor. "I like your candor. Of
course, it was not the decision of the lawyer, but simply that of the
citizen affected by his morning newspaper. As such, I do not object to
your having entertained it. But now, speaking as a lawyer, and without
hearing anything of my defence, tell me what value is to be put upon
the evidence against me, always supposing that the prosecution can
bring good evidence to sustain their position."

"Well," replied Mr. Dudley, "the evidence is purely circumstantial,
though circumstantial evidence often convinces a jury, and convicts a
man. It is claimed against you that you have disappeared. From this it
is argued that you are hiding from the police. The next deduction is,
that if you fear the police, you are guilty. Per contra, whilst these
deductions may be true and logical, they are not necessarily so;
consequently, they are good only until refuted. For example, were you
to go now to the District Attorney and surrender yourself, making the
claim that you have been avoiding the police only to prevent arrest,
preferring to present yourself to the law officers voluntarily, the
whole theory of the police, from this one standpoint, falls to the
ground utterly worthless."

"Very well argued. Do you then advise me to surrender myself? But
wait! We will take that up later. Let me hear your views on the next
fact against me. I refer to the statement that poison was found in the
body."

"Several interesting points occur to me," replied Mr. Dudley, speaking
slowly. "Let me read the newspaper account again." He took up the
paper, and after a minute read aloud: "'The result of the autopsy,
etc., etc., shows conclusively that the girl was poisoned. The doctors
claim to have discovered morphine enough to kill three men.' That is
upon the face of it a premature statement. The woman died on Sunday
morning. The autopsy was held yesterday. I believe it will require a
chemical analysis before it can be asserted that morphine is present.
Am I not correct?" The Doctor made one of his non-committal replies.

"Let us suppose that at the trial, expert chemists swear that they
found morphine in poisonous quantities."

"Even then, the burden of proof would be upon the prosecution. They
must prove not merely that morphine was present in quantities
sufficient to cause death, but that in this case it did actually kill.
That is, they must show that Mabel Sloane died from poison, and not