was arrested and prosecuted in Warsaw, Vienna, Berlin, Belgrade;
all over Europe, until finally the police drove him to America.
There he was an editor of an anarchist paper, a blackmailer, a
'doctor' of hypnotism, a clairvoyant, and a professional bigamist.
His game was to open rooms as a clairvoyant, and advise silly women
how to invest their money. When he found out which of them had the
most money, he would marry her, take over her fortune, and skip. In
Chicago, he was tried for poisoning one wife, and the trial brought
out the fact that two others had died under suspicious
circumstances, and that there were three more unpoisoned but
anxious to get back their money. He was sentenced to ten years for
bigamy, but pardoned because he was supposed to be insane, and
dying. Instead of dying, he opened a sanatorium in New York to cure
victims of the drug habit. In reality, it was a sort of high-priced
opium-den. The place was raided, and he jumped his bail and came to
this country. Now he is running this private hospital in Sowell
Street. Needham says it's a secret rendezvous for dope fiends. But
they are very high-class dope fiends, who are willing to pay for
seclusion, and the police can't get at him. I may add that he's
tall and muscular, with a big black beard, and hands that could
strangle a bull. In Chicago, during the poison trial, the
newspapers called him 'the Modern Bluebeard."'

For a short time Ford was silent. But, in the dark corner of the
cab, Cuthbert could see that his cigar was burning briskly.

"Your friend seems a nice chap," said Ford at last. " Calling on
him will be a real pleasure. I especially like what you say about
his hands."