The partial receipt recovered from the apothecary's records lists compounds that had legitimate medicinal uses, but in combination and in certain quantities could produce powerful sedative effects. The apothecary's notation on the receipt reads, "For treatment of Miss Ruth's continued nervous condition as prescribed." No doctor's prescription was found, and Dr. Lambert's records contain no mention of treating Ruth for any nervous disorder.
The apothecary's apprentice, Samuel Cooper, later told Professor Whitaker, "Miss Ruth had very specific requirements. She asked unusually precise questions about sedative effects, preservation during summer months, and the effects of various salts on tissue. She always paid in cash and insisted on discretion."
Cooper added a detail that he had previously withheld. Once when preparing her order, I asked about the purpose of a particular compound, potassium bromide, as it was unusual to request it in such quantities. She looked at me with the coldest eyes I've ever seen, and said, "To ensure restful sleep, of course, some require more assistance than others to achieve the proper state of repose." The way she said it made my skin crawl. After that, I never questioned her orders again. The sisters' business continued to prosper despite the economic downturn affecting much of the region in the mid 1890s.
Bank records show regular deposits, often in cash, well beyond what their documented occupancy rates would suggest. They made several significant purchases during this period, including new kitchen equipment, improved plumbing fixtures, and a specially designed icebox from a manufacturer in Philadelphia that, according to the shipping manifest, was constructed to maintain temperatures suitable for extended preservation of perishable materials. As summer faded into autumn, the sisters' activities might have continued unchecked if not for the arrival of a particular guest. On September 18th, 1896, the evening train from Baltimore brought a man who signed the guest register as Dr. Ephraim Samuels, identifying himself as a dental surgeon, relocating to establish a practice in nearby Martinsburg.
According to the register, Dr. Samuels paid for a full week's lodging in advance, an amount that would have represented a substantial sum in cash. He was assigned the blue room on the second floor, which overlooked the garden at the rear of the house. The sisters could not have known that this man was not Dr. Samuels.
County records later revealed that the real Dr. Ephraim Samuels had died 3 months earlier in Baltimore. The man who arrived at Blackwood House that September evening was James Pinkerton, a private detective hired by the family of Howard Phillips, the businessman who had disappeared in February 1893.
Pinkerton came to Harper's Ferry after months of investigation that had led him to identify a pattern of disappearances connected to the boarding house. For three days, he maintained his cover as Dr. Samuels taking meals with the sisters and observing their routines. In his personal journal, later recovered from his belongings in Baltimore, he noted, "The eldest speaks little during meals, but observes constantly. The middle sister maintains pleasant conversation while watching one's reaction to the food. The youngest serves each dish personally, always waiting until guests take the first bite before retreating to the kitchen.
The meals are exceptional, perhaps too much so. There is an unusual aftertaste to the evening wine that I have been careful to only pretend to consume." Pinkerton's journal entries grow increasingly concerned over his three-day stay. Second night, dinner consisted of a roast that Miss Ruth described as locally sourced game. The texture was unusual, not like any venison or rabbit I've encountered.
The sisters watched with particular intensity as the other guest, a Mr. Carrington from Richmond, consumed two large portions with evident enjoyment. I claimed a headache and ate sparingly. Mr. Carrington became noticeably drowsy during dessert and was helped to his room by Miss Eleanor.
When I inquired after him at breakfast, I was told he had checked out before dawn to catch the early train. His final entry, dated September 21st, 1896, reads, "Am now certain of my suspicions, have observed basement windows from garden, unusual equipment visible, metal table with drainage system, large preservation containers along walls, hooks in ceiling with pulley system.
Will implement plan tonight. If I do not report to Baltimore office by noon tomorrow, Agent Thompson should proceed with contingency arrangements." On the evening of September 21st, Pinkerton enacted his plan to discover what happened to guests who never departed. After dinner, he feigned greater intoxication than usual, slurring his words and having difficulty climbing the stairs to his room. The sisters helped him to bed with Margaret, assuring him that a good night's sleep will set everything right.
What happened next exists only in Pinkerton's report filed with the Baltimore police and subsequently sealed until its discovery in 1962. According to his account, Pinkerton waited until approximately midnight when he heard footsteps in the hallway. His door opened and in the dim light he observed Margaret and Eleanor entering with what he described as a large canvas sheet, several lengths of rope, and a collection of knives and other implements of a concerning nature. Pinkerton, who had not actually consumed the drugged food or wine, but had discreetly disposed of it, confronted the women. The confrontation that followed was not recorded in detail as the relevant pages were removed from his report before it was sealed.
What is known is that Pinkerton left Harper's Ferry abruptly the following morning and returned to Baltimore where he filed his report and then disappeared from historical record entirely. A tantalizing clue to what might have transpired during that confrontation comes from a single paragraph that survived in Pinkerton's report. When questioned directly about the fate of Mr. Phillips and the others, the elder Miss B exhibited no shame or denial. She stated with perfect composure that waste is a sin and that men of means who travel alone are seldom immediately missed. When I suggested that authorities would be interested in her philosophy, she indicated that her family's connections would prevent any serious inquiry, as had been the case previously.
The look in her eyes convinced me that removing myself from the premises immediately was the wisest course of action. Even more disturbing is a notation found in a margin of the report, apparently added later by Pinkerton. Miss R appeared in doorway during confrontation, carried large cleaver, smiled in manner most unsettling, suggested I might contribute to the household in ways other than financial. Elder sister ordered her to return to kitchen. Believe my survival due solely to precaution of informing Baltimore office of my whereabouts and suspicions before arrival.