A Sewer Rat
A Leaf From a Detective's Life
Do you ask me if there was not something extraordinary connected with my marriage? Well, I must confess that the incidents which brought it about were rather singular, and if you care to hear how it all happened, seat yourself comfortably in that old armchair, and I will do my best to interest you in the relation of what was really a very strange adventure.
Old Solomon Denton was a hard case truly, and if he had been alone in the world, respectable people would have had nothing to do with him. In his younger days he was as good as the best in our town, for his ancestors were among the original settlers of the place; and, when his father died, leaving him the proprietorship of the oldest and most famous inn then known in that neighborhood, no young man in Rivermouth had better prospects, or was more universally liked.
But time brings many changes. Rivermouth, from a small town, grew to be a large city, and Sol Denton grew to be a hard case, as I have said. The change was gradual in both cases, but not less certain in one than in the other. Love of company and jollity led to the ruin of the landlord of the Bear’s Head Inn, and when the town had grown large enough to have a city’s reputation for wickedness, Solomon had the reputation of being one of the worst men in it. At the time of which I am speaking he was about fifty years old, and was known as a professional gambler, while the Bear’s Head had degenerated into a third-rate tavern and gaming-saloon, frequented solely by sporting men, or, as the police shrewdly suspected, by characters of a still worse type.
But Denton was by no means cast out of good society even then. In the prime of his manhood, when everything looked fair… Read More