barmaid . . .
Only his servant knew that Bathurst had feared for his life and how desperate he had been to move on. He roused the others to search for his master, while he raced off to see Captain Klitzing, the Prussian governor of Perleberg. Unknown to the other travelers, Bathurst had earlier requested protection from Klitzing during his stay, which had been granted in the form of two soldiers, who had spent the evening hanging about the inn, eyeing everyone suspiciously.
When questioned, the soldiers had noticed nothing amiss. No one waiting in the dark and chilly courtyard had seen or heard anything unusual. Although some ruffian might have crept unseen into the yard under cover of darkness, surely the sounds of a scuffle would have alerted the others.
Klitzing arranged for the three remaining travelers to lodge at the nearby Gold Crown Hotel and started an investigation immediately. Every inn and tavern in the town was checked, fishermen were instructed to explore the local river, while gamekeepers and huntsmen with dogs were sent out to search the surrounding countryside. Bathurst's servant unpacked the luggage and discovered his master's sable cloak was missing. It was eventually found hidden beneath a pile of logs in the inn's woodshed. An employee was questioned about this and held briefly, but his questioners were convinced he knew nothing of Bathurst's fate.
A pair of Benjamin Bathurst's trousers was found by huntsmen on a forest path. The trousers had been turned inside-out and shot at with a pistol—but not while Bathurst was wearing them. In one pocket was a scrap of paper, a scribbled letter from Benjamin to his beloved wife in which he mentioned the name of one Comte d'Entraigues as implicated in his trouble.
When the British government learned of Bathurst's disappearance, they offered a thousand-pound reward for his return or certain news of his fate. Despite this substantial reward—which Bathurst's family agreed to match—there were no takers.
Benjamin's wife appealed directly to Napoleon and, despite being at war with Britain, the French ruler granted her special permission to travel throughout France and Germany in search of her husband.
On her travels in the spring of 1810, Mrs. Bathurst managed to pick up a number of conflicting reports and rumors about her husband's fate: He had escaped to the north coast of Germany, but drowned there; he had drowned while trying to cross the Elbe after escaping his abductors; he had been killed by a servant. The governor of Magdeburg Prison had been heard to boast, “They are looking for the English ambassador, but I have him.”
When Mrs. Bathurst confronted the prison governor, he did not deny his words, but said that he had been mistaken about the identity of one of his prisoners. He would not explain further, nor would he allow her to meet this man. In the end, she was forced to return to England sadly, none the wiser as to her husband's fate.
At home, she was visited by the Comte d'Entraigues, the double agent who had been named in her husband's last letter to her. The comte told her that Benjamin Bathurst had indeed been imprisoned in Magdeburg, and, when she asked for some proof, he promised to try to obtain it. However, a few days later, both the comte and his wife were assassinated at their house in Twickenham.
The general assumption at the time and also later was that French agents were responsible for abducting and disposing of Benjamin Bathurst; yet how they managed to accomplish this with such utter secrecy, in front of so many potential witnesses, has never been satisfactorily explained. As an early commentator on this famous case wrote, “The disappearance of the English ambassador seems like magic.”
4. Joe
Being a private investigator is not a normal sort of job, nor is it a career that many people choose. In fact, I'm not sure it's a choice at all. I've often felt I was chosen for this role, rather than the other way around; and my