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Chapter 4

  A Gentleman’s Narrative Continued

  I have just returned from a visit to the Hanson house. After reading that newspaper account of her brother’s disappearance, I was pleased to be of some service to Miss Hanson, if only as a confidant. Also I must admit my curiosity was aroused as well. Miss Hanson related the facts to me much as they had been reported in the press. I held her hand as she sobbed out her troubles. It was a most touching sight.

  Unfortunately our visit was interrupted by the arrival of a detective. Miss Hanson and her father seem to think the City police force needs the help of an outsider to locate their wayward relative. I must say I am not inclined to think much of this detective, Mister Blackwood. To begin with, his partner is a Negro, an ex-slave I assume, with a scarred face. I’m not sure of the wisdom of trusting a delicate affair such as this to a man who befriends a Negro. Secondly this detective’s appearance was nowhere near gentlemanly. He looks to be a few years younger than me, perhaps in his mid-thirties at the oldest, has a weathered face, dark eyebrows, hair longer on top, with a pronounced widow’s peak. His coat was definitely frayed at the shoulders, and his shirt looked as if it had been slept in.

  I cut my visit to Miss Hanson short, shorter than I had intended. I kept most of my reservations to myself about this detective and hoped to convey some of my meaning to him by a glance. Alas, the look was lost on Mister Blackwood, affirming his inability to deduce things, at least to me. He does appear to have some rugged good looks, so perhaps there one can find the explanation as to why Miss Hanson agreed to employ him. I kissed her hand in parting, conscious in the knowledge that her damp handkerchief had pressed a circle into my best suede overcoat. At least I had done my duty.

  Perhaps this Mister Blackwood deliberately hides his ability behind this façade of shabbiness to deceive people from the truth. As if in underestimating him, they will then become unguarded and reveal certain facts. Or perhaps he is just slovenly and inept and scrapes for a meager living and these are the only clothes he can afford. I must confess that I am entirely preoccupied with appearances, especially clothing. From the upbringing of my family, it seemed that the most important thing that one might do in a day was dress to prepare for it. Perhaps this blinds me to the value of other men since at times I cannot see past what they are wearing.

  At any rate Miss Hanson may need further assistance in this matter, and I will make a point to make myself available to her should I be called upon.

  But once again I am letting my mind wander. I had been thinking about the Southern conflict, and how businesses are affected by it. I feel no need to take a loyalty oath to the Union or to declare where my interests lie and how my profits from whatever business which I may be interested in at the time will be invested. I was happy to take business over from my uncle when he passed on. He had launched it on his own, and, on his visits to us at home, imparted to me how satisfying it could be. This business –importing dry goods – kept me traveling from time to time, which came to be a hassle. I sold the business when a reasonable offer came along, but I have kept up with some of my old business contacts in other cities. Most of my time now is spent in leisure pursuits, although I manage to find other work occasionally.