The Expressman and the Detective
by Allan Pinkerton · English · Gutenberg #22155 · 425,489 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Expressman and the Detective
Author: Allan Pinkerton
Release date: July 26, 2007 [eBook #22155]
Most recently updated: January 2, 2021
Language: English
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Allan Pinkerton's Detective Stories.
[Illustration: THE ROBBER.]
THE EXPRESSMAN AND THE DETECTIVE.
by
ALLAN PINKERTON.
Fifteenth Thousand.
Chicago:
W. B. Keen, Cooke & Co.,
113 and 115 State Street.
1875.
Copyright,
W. B. Keen, Cooke & Co.,
A. D. 1874.
The Lakeside Press.
PREFACE.
During the greater portion of a very busy life, I have been actively
engaged in the profession of a Detective, and hence have been brought in
contact with many men, and have been an interested participant in many
exciting occurrences.
The narration of some of the most interesting of these events, happening
in connection with my professional labors, is the realization of a
pleasure I have long anticipated, and is the fulfillment of promises
repeatedly made to numerous friends in by gone days.
"THE EXPRESSMAN AND THE DETECTIVE,"
and the other works announced by my publishers, are all _true stories_,
transcribed from the Records in my offices. If there be any incidental
embellishment, it is so slight that the actors in these scenes from the
drama of life would never themselves detect it; and if the incidents
seem to the reader at all marvelous or improbable, I can but remind him,
in the words of the old adage, that "Truth is stranger than fiction."
ALLAN PINKERTON.
CHICAGO, October, 1874.
PUBLISHERS' NOTICE.
The present Volume is the first of a series of Mr. Allan Pinkerton's
thrilling and beautifully written
DETECTIVE STORIES,
all true to life--founded upon incidents in the experience of the great
chief of all detectives.
At intervals the following will appear:
"CLAUDE MELNOTTE AS A DETECTIVE."
"THE TWO SISTERS AND THE AVENGER."
"THE FRENCHMAN AND THE BILLS OF EXCHANGE."
"THE MURDERER AND THE FORTUNE TELLER."
"THE MODEL TOWN AND ITS DETECTIVE."
That these Volumes will meet with a cordial reception we have no doubt.
W. B. KEEN, COOKE & CO.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
I. Frontispiece--THE ROBBER.
II. At this inopportune moment Simon gave way to his oars, and
left the poor deputy hanging in the air. pp. 40
III. "Yah! yah! yah!" roared both the darkies; "you don't
know Mother Binks! Why, she keeps the finest gals on all
the riber." page 69
IV. As he gaily entered the gallery, twirling his handsome cane,
he was welcomed by a pleasant smile from a young lady, an
octoroon. page 73
V. Cox and his friends joined in having a good time at the
tinker's expense, and pronounced him "the prince of good
fellows." page 86
VI. Franklin gave his orders, and the delicious bivalves were soon
smoking before them. * * * He kept the alderman in such roars of
laughter that he could scarcely swallow his oysters. page 125
VII. "You are my prisoner!" said he. "Nathan Maroney, I
demand that you immediately deliver to me fifty thousand dollars,
the property of the Adams' Express Co." page 131
VIII. On and on he plunged through the darkness, following
the sound of the hoofs and wheels. At times he felt that he
must give up and drop by the way; but he forced the feeling
back and plunged on with the determination of winning. page 145
IX. "Wal, stranger, whar yar bound?" was his first salutation.
Roch looked at him in a bewildered way and then said,
"Nichts verstehe!" page 158
X. Mrs. Maroney looked him full in the face with flashing eyes,
clenched her little hand, and in a voice hoarse from passion,
exclaimed: "What do you want here, you scoundrel?" page 190
XI. In a second, Mrs. Maroney grasped a pitcher and smashed
it over Josh.'s skull. page 222
XII. Raising the dead animal by its caudal appendage, he
angrily exclaimed, "That's my dog!" page 226
XIII. As he stood outside of the counter, I was enabled to call
off all the packages on the way-bill, but dropped the four containing
the forty thousand dollars under the counter. page 237
XIV. The peddler lifted his satchel into the buggy; the Madam
hurriedly emptied it of its contents, and holding it open
jammed the bundle of money into it, and handed it back to
the peddler. page 268
THE EXPRESSMAN AND THE DETECTIVE.
_CHAPTER I._
Montgomery, Alabama, is beautifully situated on the Alabama river, near
the centre of the State. Its situation at the head of navigation, on the
Alabama river, its connection by rail with important points, and the
rich agricultural country with which it is surrounded, make it a great
commercial centre, and the second city in the State as regards wealth
and population. It is the capital, and consequently learned men and
great politicians flock to it, giving it a society of the highest rank,
and making it the social centre of the State.
From 1858 to 1860, the time of which I treat in the present work, the
South was in a most prosperous condition. "Cotton was king," and
millions of dollars were poured into the country for its purchase, and a
fair share of this money found its way to Montgomery.
When the Alabama planters had gathered their crops of cotton, tobacco,
rice, etc., they sent them to Montgomery to be sold, and placed the
proceeds on deposit in its banks. During their busy season, while
overseeing the labor of their slaves, they were almost entirely debarred
from the society of any but their own families; but when the crops were
gathered they went with their families to Montgomery, where they gave
themselves up to enjoyment, spending their money in a most lavish
manner.
There were several good hotels in the city and they were always filled
to overflowing with the wealth and beauty of the South.
The Adams Express Company had a monopoly of the express business of the
South, and had established its agencies at all points with which there
was communication by rail, steam or stage. They handled all the money
sent to the South for the purchase of produce, or remitted to the North
in payment of merchandise. Moreover, as they did all the express
business for the banks, besides moving an immense amount of freight, it
is evident that their business was enormous.
At all points of importance, where there were diverging routes of
communication, the company had established principal agencies, at which
all through freight and the money pouches were delivered by the
messengers. The agents at these points were selected with the greatest
care, and were always considered men above reproach. Montgomery being a
great centre of trade was made the western terminus of one of the
express routes, Atlanta being the eastern. The messengers who had charge
of the express matter between these two points were each provided with
a safe and with a pouch. The latter was to contain only such packages as
were to go over the whole route, consisting of money or other valuables.
The messenger was not furnished with a key to the pouch, but it was
handed to him locked by the agent at one end of the route to be
delivered in the same condition to the agent at the other end.
The safe was intended for way packages, and of it the messenger of
course had a key. The pouch was carried in the safe, each being
protected by a lock of peculiar construction.
The Montgomery office in 1858, and for some years previous, had been in
charge of Nathan Maroney, and he had made himself one of the most
popular agents in the company's employ.
He was married, and with his wife and one daughter, had pleasant
quarters at the Exchange Hotel, one of the best houses in the city. He
possessed all the qualifications which make a popular man. He had a
genial, hearty manner, which endeared him to the open, hospitable
inhabitants of Montgomery, so that he was "hail fellow, well met," with
most of its populace. He possessed great executive ability and hence
managed the affairs of his office in a very satisfactory manner. The
promptness with which he discharged his duties had won for him the
well-merited esteem of the officers of the company, and he was in a fair
way of attaining a still higher position. His greatest weakness--if it
may be so called--was a love for fast horses, which often threw him into
the company of betting men.
On the morning of the twenty-sixth of April, 1858, the messenger from
Atlanta arrived in Montgomery, placed his safe in the office as usual,
and when Maroney came in, turned over to him the through pouch.
Maroney unlocked the pouch and compared it with the way-bill, when he
discovered a package of four thousand seven hundred and fifty dollars
for a party in Montgomery which was not down on the way-bill. About a
week after this occurrence, advice was received that a package
containing ten thousand dollars in bills of the Planters' and Mechanics'
Bank of Charleston, S. C., had been sent to Columbus, Ga., via the Adams
Express, but the person to whom it was directed had not received it.
Inquiries were at once instituted, when it was discovered that it had
been missent, and forwarded to Atlanta, instead of Macon. At Atlanta it
was recollected that this package, together with one for Montgomery, for
four thousand seven hundred and fifty dollars, had been received on
Sunday, the twenty-fifth of April, and had been sent on to Montgomery,
whence the Columbus package could be forwarded the next day. Here all
trace of the missing package was lost. Maroney stated positively that he
had not received it, and the messenger was equally positive that the
pouch had been delivered to Maroney in the same order in which he
received it from the Atlanta agent.
The officers of the company were completely at a loss. It was discovered
beyond a doubt that the package had been sent from Atlanta. The
messenger who received it bore an excellent character, and the company
could not believe him guilty of the theft. The lock of the pouch was
examined and found in perfect order, so that it evidently had not been
tampered with. The messenger was positive that he had not left the safe
open when he went out of the car, and there was no sign of the lock's
having been forced.
The more the case was investigated, the more directly did suspicion
point to Maroney, but as his integrity had always been unquestioned, no
one now was willing to admit the possibility of his guilt. However, as
no decided action in the matter could be taken, it was determined to say
nothing, but to have the movements of Maroney and other suspected
parties closely watched.
For this purpose various detectives were employed; one a local detective
of Montgomery, named McGibony; others from New Orleans, Philadelphia,
Mobile, and New York. After a long investigation these parties had to
give up the case as hopeless, all concluding that Maroney was an
innocent man. Among the detectives, however was one from New York,
Robert Boyer, by name, an old and favorite officer of Mr. Matsell when
he was chief of the New York police. He had made a long and tedious
examination and finding nothing definite as to what had become of the
money, had turned his attention to discovering the antecedents of
Maroney, but found nothing positively suspicious in his life previous to
his entering the employ of the company. He discovered that Maroney was
the son of a physician, and that he was born in the town of Rome, Ga.
Here I would remark that the number of titled men one meets in the South
is astonishing. Every man, if he is not a doctor, a lawyer, or a
clergyman, has some military title--nothing lower than captain being
admissible. Of these self-imposed titles they are very jealous, and woe
be to the man who neglects to address them in the proper form. Captain
is the general title, and is applied indiscriminately to the captain of
a steamer, or to the deck hand on his vessel.
Maroney remained in Rome until he became a young man, when he emigrated
to Texas. On the breaking out of the Mexican war he joined a company of
Texan Rangers, and distinguished himself in a number of battles. At the
close of the war he settled in Montgomery, in the year 1851, or 1852,
and was employed by Hampton & Co., owners of a line of stages, to act as
their agent. On leaving this position, he was made treasurer of Johnson
& May's circus, remaining with the company until it was disbanded in
consequence of the pecuniary difficulties of the proprietors--caused, it
was alleged, through Maroney's embezzlement of the funds, though this
allegation proved false, and he remained for many years on terms of
intimacy with one of the partners, a resident of Montgomery. When the
company disbanded he obtained a situation as conductor on a railroad in
Tennessee, and was afterwards made Assistant Superintendent, which
position he resigned to take the agency of the Adams Express Company, in
Montgomery. His whole life seemed spotless up to the time of the
mysterious disappearance of the ten thousand dollars.
In the fall of the year, Maroney obtained leave of absence, and made a
trip to the North, visiting the principal cities of the East, and also
of the Northwest. He was followed on this trip, but nothing was
discovered, with the single exception that his associates were not
always such as were desirable in an employé, to whose keeping very heavy
interests were from time to time necessarily committed. He was lost
sight of at Richmond, Va., for a few days, and was supposed by the man
who was following him, to have passed the time in Charleston.
The company now gave up all hope of recovering the money; but as
Maroney's habits were expensive, and they had lost, somewhat, their
confidence in him, they determined to remove him and place some less
objectionable person in his place.
Maroney's passion for fine horses has already been alluded to. It was
stated about this time that he owned several fast horses; among others,
"Yankee Mary," a horse for which he was said to have paid two thousand
five hundred dollars; but as he had brought seven thousand five hundred
dollars with him when he entered the employ of the company, this could
not be considered a suspicious circumstance.
It having been determined to remove Maroney, the Vice-President of the
company wrote to the Superintendent of the Southern Division of the
steps he wished taken. The Superintendent of the Southern Division
visited Montgomery on the twentieth of January, 1859, but was
anticipated in the matter of carrying out his instructions, by Maroney's
tendering his resignation. The resignation was accepted, but the
superintendent requested him to continue in charge of the office until
his successor should arrive.
This he consented to do.
_CHAPTER II._
Previous to Maroney's trip to the North, Mr. Boyer held a consultation
with the Vice-President and General Superintendent of the company. He
freely admitted his inability to fathom the mystery surrounding the loss
of the money, and thought the officers of the company did Maroney a
great injustice in supposing him guilty of the theft. He said he knew of
only one man who could bring out the robbery, and he was living in
Chicago.
Pinkerton was the name of the man he referred to. He had established an
agency in Chicago, and was doing a large business. He (Boyer) had every
confidence in his integrity and ability, which was more than he could
say of the majority of detectives, and recommended the Vice-President to
have him come down and look into the case.
This ended the case for most of the detectives. One by one they had gone
away, and nothing had been developed by them. The Vice-President, still
anxious to see if anything could be done, wrote a long and full
statement of the robbery and sent it to me, with the request that I
would give my opinion on it.
I was much surprised when I received the letter, as I had not the
slightest idea who the Vice-President was, and knew very little about
the Adams Express, as, at that time, they had no office in the West.
I, however, sat down and read it over very carefully, and, on finishing
it, determined to make a point in the case if I possibly could. I
reviewed the whole of the Vice-President's letter, debating every
circumstance connected with the robbery, and finally ended my
consideration of the subject with the firm conviction that the robbery
had been committed either by the agent, Maroney, or by the messenger,
and I was rather inclined to give the blame to Maroney.
The letter was a very long one, but one of which I have always been
proud. Having formed my opinion, I wrote to the Vice-President,
explained to him the ground on which I based my conclusions, and
recommended that they keep Maroney in their employ, and have a strict
watch maintained over his actions.
After sending my letter, I could do nothing until the Vice-President
replied, which I expected he would do in a few days; but I heard nothing
more of the affair for a long time, and had almost entirely forgotten
it, when I received a telegraphic dispatch from him, sent from
Montgomery, and worded about as follows:
"ALLAN PINKERTON: Can you send me a man--half horse and half
alligator? I have got 'bit' once more! When can you send him?"
The dispatch came late Saturday night, and I retired to my private
office to think the matter over. The dispatch gave me no information
from which I could draw any conclusions. No mention was made of how the
robbery was committed, or of the amount stolen. I had not received any
further information of the ten thousand dollar robbery. How had they
settled that? It was hard to decide what kind of a man to send! I wanted
to send the very best, and would gladly go myself, but did not know
whether the robbery was important enough to demand my personal
attention.
I did not know what kind of men the officers of the company were, or
whether they would be willing to reward a person properly for his
exertions in their behalf.
At that time I had no office in New York, and knew nothing of the
ramifications of the company. Besides, I did not know how I would be
received in the South. I had held my anti-slavery principles too long to
give them up. They had been bred in my bones, and it was impossible to
eradicate them. I was always stubborn, and in any circumstances would
never abandon principles I had once adopted.
Slavery was in full blossom, and an anti-slavery man could do nothing in
the South. As I had always been a man somewhat after the John Brown
stamp, aiding slaves to escape, or keeping them employed, and running
them into Canada when in danger, I did not think it would do for me to
make a trip to Montgomery.
I did not know what steps had already been taken in the case, or whether
the loss was a heavy one. From the Vice-President's saying he wanted a
man "half horse, half alligator," I supposed he wanted a man who could
at least affiliate readily with the inhabitants of the South.
But what class was he to mix with? Did he want a man to mix with the
rough element, or to pass among gentlemen? I could select from my force
any class of man he could wish. But what _did he wish_?
I was unaware of who had recommended me to the Vice-President, as at
that time I had not been informed that my old friend Boyer had spoken so
well of me. What answer should I make to the dispatch? It must be
answered immediately!
These thoughts followed each other in rapid succession as I held the
dispatch before me.
I finally settled on Porter as the proper man to send, and immediately
telegraphed the Vice-President, informing him that Porter would start
for Montgomery by the first train. I then sent for Porter and gave him
what few instructions I could. I told him the little I knew of the case,
and that I should have to rely greatly on his tact and discretion.
Up to that time I had never done any business for the Adams Express, and
as their business was well worth having, I was determined to win.
He was to go to Montgomery and get thoroughly acquainted with the town
and its surroundings; and as my suspicions had become aroused as to the
integrity of the agent, Maroney, he was to form his acquaintance, and
frequent the saloons and livery stables of the town, the
Vice-President's letter having made me aware of Maroney's inclination
for fast horses. He was to keep his own counsel, and, above all things,
not let it become known that he was from the North, but to hail from
Richmond, Va., thus securing for himself a good footing with the
inhabitants. He was also to dress in the Southern style; to supply me
with full reports describing the town and its surroundings, the manners
and customs of its people, all he saw or heard about Maroney, the
messengers and other employés of the company; whether Maroney was
married, and, if so, any suspicious circumstances in regard to his wife
as well as himself--in fact, to keep me fully informed of all that
occurred. I should have to rely on his discretion until his reports were
received; but then I could direct him how to act. I also instructed him
to obey all orders from the Vice-President, and to be as obliging as
possible.
Having given him his instructions, I started him off on the first train,
giving him a letter of introduction to the Vice-President. On Porter's
arriving in Montgomery he sent me particulars of the case, from which I
learned that while Maroney was temporarily filling the position of
agent, among other packages sent to the Montgomery office, on the
twenty-seventh of January, 1859, were four containing, in the aggregate,
forty thousand dollars, of which one, of two thousand five hundred
dollars, was to be sent to Charleston, S. C., and the other three, of
thirty thousand, five thousand, and two thousand five hundred
respectively, were intended for Augusta. These were receipted for by
Maroney, and placed in the vault to be sent off the next day. On the
twenty-eighth the pouch was given to the messenger, Mr. Chase, and by
him taken to Atlanta. When the pouch was opened, it was found that none
of these packages were in it, although they were entered on the way-bill
which accompanied the pouch, and were duly checked off. The poor
messenger was thunder-struck, and for a time acted like an idiot,
plunging his hand into the vacant pouch over and over again, and
staring vacantly at the way-bill. The Assistant Superintendent of the
Southern Division was in the Atlanta office when the loss was
discovered, and at once telegraphed to Maroney for an explanation.
Receiving no reply before the train started for Montgomery, he got
aboard and went directly there. On his arrival he went to the office and
saw Maroney, who said he knew nothing at all of the matter. He had
delivered the packages to the messenger, had his receipt for them, and
of course could not be expected to keep track of them when out of his
possession.
Before Mr. Hall, the route agent, left Atlanta he had examined the pouch
carefully, but could find no marks of its having been tampered with. He
had immediately telegraphed to another officer of the company, who was
at Augusta, and advised him of what had happened. The evening after the
discovery of the loss the pouch was brought back by the messenger from
Atlanta, who delivered it to Maroney.
Maroney took out the packages, compared them with the way-bill, and,
finding them all right, he threw down the pouch and placed the packages
in the vault.
In a few moments he came out, and going over to where Mr. Hall was
standing, near where he had laid down the pouch, he picked it up and
proceeded to examine it. He suddenly exclaimed, "Why, it's cut!" and
handed it over to Mr. Hall. Mr. Hall, on examination, found two cuts at
right angles to each other, made in the side of the pouch and under the
pocket which is fastened on the outside, to contain the way-bill.
On Sunday the General Superintendent arrived in Montgomery, when a
strict investigation was made, but nothing definite was discovered, and
the affair seemed surrounded by an impenetrable veil of mystery. It was,
however, discovered that on the day the missing packages were claimed to
have been sent away, there were several rather unusual incidents in the
conduct of Maroney.
After consultation with Mr. Hall and others, the General Superintendent
determined that the affair should not be allowed to rest, as was the ten
thousand dollar robbery, and had Maroney arrested, charged with stealing
the forty thousand dollars.
The robbery of so large an amount caused great excitement in Montgomery.
The legislature was in session, and the city was crowded with senators,
representatives and visitors. Everywhere, on the streets, in the
saloons, in private families, and at the hotels, the great robbery of
the Express Company was the universal topic of conversation. Maroney had
become such a favorite that nearly all the citizens sympathized with
him, and in unmeasured terms censured the company for having him
arrested. They claimed that it was another instance of the persecution
of a poor man by a powerful corporation, to cover the carelessness of
those high in authority, and thus turn the blame on some innocent
person.
Maroney was taken before Justice Holtzclaw, and gave the bail which was
required--forty thousand dollars--for his appearance for examination a
few days later; prominent citizens of the town actually vieing with one
another for an opportunity to sign his bail-bond.
At the examination the Company presented such a weak case that the bail
was reduced to four thousand dollars, and Maroney was bound over in
that amount to appear for trial at the next session of the circuit
court, to be held in June. The evidence was such that there was little
prospect of his conviction on the charge unless the company could
procure additional evidence by the time the trial was to come off.
It was the desire of the company to make such inquiries, and generally
pursue such a course as would demonstrate the guilt or the possible
innocence of the accused. It was absolutely necessary for their own
preservation to show that depredations upon them could not be committed
with impunity. They offered a reward of ten thousand dollars for the
recovery of the money, promptly made good the loss of the parties who
had entrusted the several amounts to their charge, and looked around to
select such persons to assist them as would be most likely to secure
success. The amount was large enough to warrant the expenditure of a
considerable sum in its recovery, and the beneficial influence following
the conviction of the guilty party would be ample return for any outlay
securing that object. The General Superintendent therefore telegraphed
to me, as before related, requesting me to send a man to work up the
case.
_CHAPTER III._
Mr. Porter had a very rough journey to Montgomery, and was delayed some
days on the road. It was in the depth of winter, and in the North the
roads were blockaded with snow, while in the South there was constant
rain. The rivers were flooded, carrying away the bridges and washing out
the embankments of the railroads, very much impeding travel.
On his arrival in Montgomery he saw the General Superintendent and
presented his letter. He received from him the particulars of the forty
thousand dollar robbery, and immediately reported them to me.
The General Superintendent directed him to watch--"shadow" as we call
it--the movements of Maroney, find out who were his companions, and what
saloons he frequented.
Porter executed his duties faithfully, and reported to me that
Montgomery was decidedly a fast town; that the Exchange Hotel, where
Maroney boarded, was kept by Mr. Floyd, former proprietor of the Briggs
House, Chicago, and, although not the leading house of the town, was
very much liked, as it was well conducted.
From the meagre reports I had received I found I had to cope with no
ordinary man, but one who was very popular, while I was a poor nameless
individual, with a profession which most people were inclined to look
down upon with contempt. I however did not flinch from the undertaking,
but wrote to Porter to do all he could, and at the same time wrote to
the General Superintendent, suggesting the propriety of sending another
man, who should keep in the background and "spot" Maroney and his wife,
or their friends, so that if any one of them should leave town he could
follow him, leaving Porter in Montgomery, to keep track of the parties
there.
There were, of course, a number of suspicious characters in a town of
the size of Montgomery, and it was necessary to keep watch of many of
them.
Maroney frequented a saloon kept by a man whom I will call Patterson.
Patterson's saloon was the fashionable drinking resort of Montgomery,
and was frequented by all the fast men in town. Although outwardly a
very quiet, respectable place, inwardly, as Porter found, it was far
from reputable. Up stairs were private rooms, in which gentlemen met to
have a quiet game of poker; while down stairs could be found the
greenhorn, just "roped in," and being swindled, at _three card monte_.
There were, also, rooms where the "young bloods" of the town--as well as
the old--could meet ladies of easy virtue. It was frequented by fast men
from New Orleans, Mobile, and other places, who were continually
arriving and departing.
I advised the General Superintendent that it would be best to have
Porter get in with the "bloods" of the town, make himself acquainted
with any ladies Maroney or his wife might be familiar with, and adopt
generally the character of a fast man.
As soon as the General Superintendent received my letter he telegraphed
to me to send the second man, and also requested me to meet him, at a
certain date, in New York.
I now glanced over my force to see who was the best person to select for
a "shadow". Porter had been promoted by me to be a sort of "roper".
Most people may suppose that nearly any one can perform the duties of a
"shadow", and that it is the easiest thing in the world to follow up a
man; but such is not the case. A "shadow" has a most difficult position
to maintain. It will not do to follow a person on the opposite side of
the street, or close behind him, and when he stops to speak to a friend
stop also; or if a person goes into a saloon, or store, pop in after
him, stand staring till he goes out, and then follow him again. Of
course such a "shadow" would be detected in fifteen minutes. Such are
not the actions of the real "shadow", or, at least, of the "shadow"
furnished by my establishment.
I had just the man for the place, in Mr. Roch, who could follow a person
for any length of time, and never be discovered.
Having settled on Roch as the proper man for the position, I summoned
him to my private office. Roch was a German. He was about forty-five
years old, of spare appearance and rather sallow or tanned complexion.
His nose was long, thin and peaked, eyes clear but heavy looking, and
hair dark. He was slightly bald, and though he stooped a little, was
five feet ten inches in height. He had been in my employ for many years,
and I knew him thoroughly, and could trust him.
I informed him of the duties he was to perform, and gave him minute
instructions how he was to act. He was to keep out of sight as much as
possible in Montgomery. Porter would manage to see him on his arrival,
unknown to any one there, and would point out to him Maroney and his
wife, and the messenger, Chase, who boarded at the Exchange; also
Patterson, the saloon keeper, and all suspected parties. He was not to
make himself known to Floyd, of the Exchange, or to McGibony, the local
detective. I had also given Porter similar instructions. I suggested to
him the propriety of lodging at some low boarding house where liquor was
sold.
He was to keep me fully posted by letter of the movements of all
suspected parties, and if any of them left town to follow them and
immediately inform me by telegraph who they were and where they were
going, so that I could fill his place in Montgomery.
Having given him his instructions, I selected for his disguise a German
dress. This I readily procured from my extensive wardrobe, which I keep
well supplied by frequent attendance at sales of old articles.
When he had rigged himself up in his long German coat, his German cap
with the peak behind, and a most approved pair of emigrant boots, he
presented himself to me with his long German pipe in his mouth, and I
must say I was much pleased with his disguise, in which his own mother
would not have recognized him. He was as fine a specimen of a Dutchman
as could be found.
Having thoroughly impressed on his mind the importance of the case and
my determination to win the esteem of the company by ferreting out the
thief, if possible, I started him for Montgomery, where he arrived in
due time.
At the date agreed upon I went to New York to meet the General
Superintendent. I had never met the gentlemen of the company and I was a
little puzzled how to act with them.
I met the Vice-President at the express office, in such a manner that
none of the employés were the wiser as to my profession or business, and
he made an appointment to meet me at the Astor House in the afternoon.
At the Astor House he introduced me to the President, the General
Superintendent of the company, and we immediately proceeded to business.
They gave me all the particulars of the case they could, though they
were not much fuller than those I had already received from Porter's
reports. They reviewed the life of Maroney, as already related, up to
the time he became their agent, stating that he was married, although
his marriage seemed somewhat "mixed".
As far as they could find out, Mrs. Maroney was a widow, with one
daughter, Flora Irvin, who was about seven or eight years old. Mrs.
Maroney was from a very respectable family, now living in Philadelphia
or its environs. She was reported to have run away from home with a
roué, whose acquaintance she had formed, but who soon deserted her.
Afterwards she led the life of a fast woman at Charleston, New Orleans,
Augusta, Ga., and Mobile, at which latter place she met Maroney, and was
supposed to have been married to him.
After Maroney was appointed agent in Montgomery he brought her with
him, took a suite of rooms at the Exchange, and introduced her as his
wife.
On account of these circumstances the General Superintendent did not
wish to meet her, and, when in Montgomery, always took rooms at another
hotel.
The Vice-President said he had nearly come to the conclusion that
Maroney was not guilty of the ten thousand dollar robbery; but when my
letter reached him, with my comments on the robbery, he became convinced
that _he was_ the guilty party.
He was strengthened in this opinion by the actions of Maroney while on
his Northern tour, and by the fact that immediately on his return the
fast mare "Yankee Mary" made her appearance in Montgomery and that
Maroney backed her heavily. It was not known that he was her owner, it
being generally reported that Patterson and other fast men were her
proprietors.
This was all the Vice-President and General Superintendent had been able
to discover while South, and they were aware that I had very little
ground on which to work.
I listened to all they had to say on the subject and took full memoranda
of the facts. I then stated that although Maroney had evidently planned
and carried out the robbery with such consummate ability that he had not
left the slightest clue by which he could be detected, still, if they
would only give me plenty of time, I would bring the robbery home to
him.
I maintained, as a cardinal principle, that it is impossible for the
human mind to retain a secret. All history proves that no one can hug a
secret to his breast and live. Everyone must have a vent for his
feelings. It is impossible to keep them always penned up.
This is especially noticeable in persons who have committed criminal
acts. They always find it necessary to select some one in whom they can
confide and to whom they can unburden themselves.
We often find that persons who have committed grave offenses will fly to
the moors, or to the prairies, or to the vast solitudes of almost
impenetrable forests, and there give vent to their feelings. I instanced
the case of Eugene Aram, who took up his abode on the bleak and solitary
moor, and, removed from the society of his fellow-men, tried to maintain
his secret by devoting himself to astronomical observations and musings
with nature, but who, nevertheless, felt compelled to relieve his
overburdened mind by muttering to himself details of the murder while
taking his long and dreary walks on the moor.
If Maroney had committed the robbery and no one knew it but himself, I
would demonstrate the truth of my theory by proving that he would
eventually seek some one in whom he thought he could confide and to whom
he would entrust the secret.
My plan was to supply him with a confidant. It would take time to
execute such a plan, but if they would have patience all would be well.
I would go to Montgomery and become familiar with the town. I was
unknown there and should remain so, only taking a letter to their legal
advisers, Watts, Judd & Jackson, whom I supposed would cheerfully give
me all the information in their power. I also informed them that it
would be necessary to detail more detectives to work up the case.
I found the officers of the company genial, pleasant men, possessed of
great executive ability and untiring energy, and felt that my duties
would be doubly agreeable by being in the interests of such men.
They ended the interview by authorizing me to employ what men I thought
proper; stating that they had full confidence in me, and that they
thought I would be enabled to unearth the guilty parties ere long. They
further authorized me to use my own judgment in all things; but expected
me to keep them fully informed of what was going on.
I started for Montgomery the same day, but was as unfortunate in meeting
with delay as were my detectives. The rivers were filled with floating
ice and I was ice-bound in the Potomac for over thirty hours. I was
obliged to go back to Alexandria, where I took the train and proceeded,
via West Point and Atlanta, to Montgomery. On the journey I amused
myself reading Martin Chuzzlewit, which I took good care to throw away
on the road, as its cuts at slavery made it unpopular in the South. At
the various stations planters got aboard, sometimes conveying their
slaves from point to point, sometimes travelling with their families to
neighboring cities. I did not converse with them, as I was not sure of
my ability to refrain from divulging my abolition sentiments. On my
arrival in Montgomery I took up my quarters at the Exchange and
impressed upon Mr. Floyd the necessity of keeping my presence a secret.
He had no idea that I was after Maroney, but supposed I was merely on a
visit to the South.
I took no notice of Maroney, but managed to see Porter and Roch
privately. They informed me that they had discovered little or nothing.
Maroney kept everything to himself. He and his wife went out
occasionally. He frequented Patterson's, sometimes going into the card
rooms, drove out with a fast horse, and passed many hours in his
counsel's office. This was all Porter knew.
Roch was to do nothing but "spot" the suspected parties and follow any
one of them who might leave town. He was to be a Dutchman, and he acted
the character to perfection. He could be seen sitting outside of his
boarding-house with his pipe in his mouth, and he apparently did nothing
but puff, puff, puff all day long. There was a saloon in town where
lager was sold and he could, occasionally, be found here sipping his
lager; but although apparently a stupid, phlegmatic man, taking no
notice of what was going on around him, he drank in, with his lager,
every word that was said.
I found that Mrs. Maroney was a very smart woman, indeed, and that it
would be necessary to keep a strict watch over her. I therefore informed
the Vice-President that I would send down another detective especially
to shadow her, as she might leave at any moment for the North and take
the forty thousand dollars with her.
I had no objections to her taking the money to the North. On the
contrary, I preferred she should do so, as I would much rather carry on
the fight on Northern soil than in the South.
I found Messrs. Watts, Judd & Jackson, the company's lawyers, were
excellent men, clear-headed and accommodating. They gladly furnished me
with what little information they possessed.
_CHAPTER IV._
Before I left Montgomery on my return to the North, I became acquainted
with the local detective, McGibony, without letting him know who I was.
In accordance with a plan which I always carry out, of watching the
actions of those around me, I kept my eye on him, and found that he was
quite "thick" with Maroney. He boarded at the Exchange, drank with
Maroney in saloons, and even passed with him into the card-room at
Patterson's.
At this time McGibony had in his charge a distinguished prisoner, being
no less a personage than the old planter whom Johnson H. Hooper so
graphically described as "Simon Suggs;" by which name I will continue to
call him.
Suggs had been arrested for the commission of a series of misdemeanors,
but, as he was a great favorite, he was allowed the freedom of the city,
and was joyfully welcomed at the hotels and saloons.
Simon was about fifty-six years old, the dryest kind of a wit, and
extremely fond of his bitters. He lived about forty miles out from
Montgomery, on the Coosa river, but about a week prior to the time I saw
him, had come to Montgomery to see his friends. Simon's morality was not
of the highest order, and the first place he visited was Patterson's
saloon. Here he met a few congenial spirits, took several drinks with
them, and then, being "flush,"--a very unusual thing for him--he
proceeded to "buck the tiger." Like too many others, he bucked too long,
and soon found himself penniless. Not to be outdone, however, he rushed
out and borrowed one hundred dollars from a friend, promising to return
it the first thing in the morning. With this money he returned to the
unequal contest, but before long was again strapped.
In the morning, as he was walking along the street, in a very
penitential mood, he was accosted by his friend, who demanded of him the
one hundred dollars he had borrowed. Simon put on a very important air,
and in a tone of confidence which he was far from feeling, assured him
he should have the money before he left town.
As Simon strolled along, puzzling his brain as to how he could raise the
necessary funds to pay off his friend, he saw the tall, ungainly form of
a backwoods planter shuffling down the street towards him.
The planter was dressed in a suit of butternut, which had become very
much shrunken, from exposure to all kinds of weather. His coat sleeves
did not reach far below his elbows, and there was a considerable space
between the bottom of his breeches and the top of his shoes. He was as
"thin as a rail," and if he stood upright would have been very tall, but
he was bent nearly double. He had a slouched hat on, which partly
concealed his long, lantern-jawed visage, while his shaggy, uncombed
hair fell to his shoulders, and gave one a feeling that it contained
many an inhabitant, like that which caused Burns to write those famous
lines containing the passage:
"Oh, wad some power the giftie gie us,
To see _oursels_ as _ithers_ see us!"
As he came down the street he stopped occasionally and gawked around.
Simon was always ready for fun, and determined to see what the planter
was up to. Accordingly, as they met, Simon said, "Good mornin'!"
"Good mornin'!" replied the gawky.
"Have yer lost summat?" asked Simon.
"Wal, no, stranger, but I wants to git some money changed, and I'll be
durned if I can diskiver a bank in this yar village."
"Bin sellin' niggers, eh?"
"You're out thar," replied the planter. "I've bin sellin' cotton."
"I'm jist the man to help yer! I'm gwine to my bank. Gin me yer money,
and come along with me and I'll change it for yer!"
The gawky was much pleased at Simon's kind attention, and remarking that
"he reckoned he was the squarest man he had met," he turned over his
money--some four hundred dollars--to Simon, and they started off
together to get it changed.
On the road Simon stepped into a saloon with the planter, called up all
the inmates to take a drink, and telling the planter he would be back
with the money in a few minutes, started off.
Fifteen minutes passed away. The planter took several drinks, and began
to think his friend was a long time in getting the money changed, but
supposed he must be detained at the bank. At the end of half an hour he
began to grow decidedly uneasy, but still Simon did not come. At the
expiration of an hour he was furious, and if Simon had fallen into his
hands at that time, he would have doubtless been made mince meat of
unceremoniously.
Simon, on leaving the saloon, had gone to his friend and, out of the
poor planter's funds, had paid him the hundred dollars he owed him, and,
with the three hundred dollars in his pocket, started for Patterson's.
He proceeded to "buck the tiger," and soon lost nearly all of it. To see
if his luck would not change, he gave up the game, and started at
"roulette." Here he steadily won, and soon had over seven hundred
dollars in his possession. He was now all excitement, and jumped with
many a "whoop-la" around the table, to the great amusement of the
spectators. He was about to give up play, but they urged him on, saying
he had a run of luck, and should not give up till he broke the bank.
Thus encouraged, he played for heavy stakes, and was soon completely
"cleaned out," and left Patterson's without a cent.
He went to a friend and borrowed twenty-five dollars to help him out of
town. He was considered good for a small short loan; and going to his
hotel, he paid his bill, and mounting his dilapidated steed, started for
his home, forty miles distant, at as great a speed as he could get out
of his poor "Rosinante." In the South, men, women and children, always
make short journeys on horseback. Simon travelled for two hours, when he
reached the Coosa river, about fifteen miles from Montgomery. At this
point lived a wealthy widow, with whom he was well acquainted, and here
he determined to pass the night. He was joyfully welcomed by the widow,
who ordered one of her negroes to put up his horse and conducted him
into the house. She had a good supper prepared, Simon ate a hearty meal,
spent a few delightful hours in the widow's company, and was then shown
to his room. He was soon in the arms of Morpheus, and arose in the
morning as gay as a lark. Throwing open the casement, he let in the
fresh morning breeze and took in at a glance the rich Southern
landscape. Immediately below him, and sloping in well kept terraces to
the banks of the Coosa, was a trim garden, filled with flowers, among
which, in fine bloom, were numerous varieties of the rose. The sluggish
waters of the Coosa flowed without a ripple between its well wooded
banks, the trees on opposite sides often interlocking their branches.
Beyond the river was a wilderness of forest; the slaves were going to
their labor in the cotton fields, singing and chatting gaily like a
party of children. It was indeed a beautiful scene, and who could more
thoroughly appreciate the beautiful than Simon? Hurriedly dressing
himself, he went to the breakfast room, where he found waiting for him
the buxom widow, dressed in a loose morning robe, admirably adapted to
display the charms of her figure.
After a delicious repast of coffee and fruit the widow proposed that as
it was such a lovely morning they take a boat-ride on the river. Simon
willingly acquiesced, and the widow, after ordering a well filled
lunch-basket to be placed in the boat, not forgetting a "little brown
jug" for Simon, took his arm, and tripping gaily down to the river,
embarked. Simon pulled strongly at the oars until a bend of the river
hid them from view of the plantation, when, taking in the oars, he
seated himself by the widow, and placing an oar at the stern to steer
with, they glided down the river. Simon was married, but was a firm
believer in the theory advanced by Moore, that
--"when far from the lips we love,
We've but to make love to the lips we are near."
The persimmons hung in tempting bunches within easy reach overhead, and
Simon would pull them down and shower them into the widow's lap.
Occasionally he would steal his arm around her waist, when she, with a
coy laugh, would pronounce him an "impudent fellow." Occasionally he
would raise the little brown jug and take a hearty pull; finally he
stole a few kisses, the widow dropped her head resignedly on his
shoulder, and so they floated down the current, loving "not wisely, but
too well." On and on they floated, entirely oblivious of time, when they
were suddenly startled by a wild halloo. The widow started up with a
scream, and Simon grasped the oars as soon as possible. Just in front of
them, seated on his horse, and with his revolver ready cocked in his
hand, sat the deputy sheriff of Montgomery. "Simon Suggs," said he,
"jist you git out of that thar boat and come along with me; I've got a
warrant for your arrest!"
"Oh! hav yer?" said Simon, "that's all right; I'll jist take this yar
lady hum, git my critter, and come in to Montgomery."
"No," said the inexorable deputy, "that won't do, jist you git out of
that thar boat and come with me."
The widow now interposed, and in plaintive tone said, "But, sir, what
am I to do? It will never do for me to return without Mr. Suggs; what
will my niggers think of it? You, Mr. Deputy, can get into the boat with
us and go to my house; while you are eating dinner I will send one of my
niggers to fetch your horse."
The deputy was finally persuaded to take this course, and securing his
horse, he got into the boat.
It will now be necessary to relate how the deputy happened to appear at
such an inopportune moment for Simon. The planter, after awaiting the
return of Simon for over two hours, was informed by the saloon keeper to
whom he appealed, that he had entrusted his money to Simon Suggs, and
that his chances of ever seeing it again were poor indeed. On
discovering this he swore out a warrant against Simon and placed it in
the hands of the sheriff to execute.
The Sheriff found that Simon had left town, and immediately his deputy,
mounted on a fast horse, started in pursuit. The deputy passed Simon at
the widow's, and went directly to his house. He found Mrs. Suggs at
home, and demanded of her the whereabouts of Simon. Mrs. Suggs said she
did not pretend to keep track of him; that he was a lazy, shiftless
fellow, who never supported his family; that about a week previously he
had left home, and she had not set her eyes on him since.
The deputy informed her that Simon had committed a grave offense, and
that he had a warrant for his arrest.
Mrs. Suggs ended the interview by saying she always thought Simon would
come to a bad end, and slammed the door in the deputy's face.
The Deputy Sheriff passed the night at a friend's, and the next morning
retraced his steps, making inquiries along the road at the different
plantations, endeavoring to get some trace of Simon. When he reached the
widow's he was told by a slave that "Massa Simon" and the "Missus" had
shortly before gone down the river for a boat ride, and taking a short
cut through the fields he headed them off.
The return journey was against the current, and Simon was pulling away
at the oars, the perspiration starting in large drops from his forehead
and running down into his eyes, or streaking his cheeks, while the
deputy was gaily entertaining the widow, who was about equally divided
in her attentions. As they proceeded Simon would say, "A very deep place
here;" "bar here;" "push her off a little from that snag," etc., and the
deputy would occasionally supply the widow with persimmons. While in the
deepest part of the stream the widow discovered a splendid bunch of
persimmons hanging from a bough which reached to the centre of the
river. She declared she _must_ have them. Simon rested on his oars,
while the gallant deputy got on the seat, and by raising himself on his
tip toes, just managed to reach the bough, a good strong one, and,
grasping it with both hands, he proceeded to bend it down so as to reach
the fruit. At this inopportune moment Simon gave way to his oars, and
left the poor deputy hanging in the air.
[Illustration: _At this inopportune moment Simon gave way to his oars,
and left the poor deputy hanging in the air._--Page 40.]
"Hold on! hold on!" yelled the deputy; "don't you know you are
interfering with an officer of the law?"
"My advice ter you is to hold on yourself," was all the consolation he
got from Simon, while the widow was convulsed with laughter.
Leaving the deputy to extricate himself from his awkward position as
best he could, Simon rowed rapidly to the house, sent a negro to bring
the deputy's horse, and after eating an enormous lunch, mounted and
started for home.
The deputy hung to the limb and yelled for assistance, but no one came,
and he found he could hold on no longer. He could not swim, and he felt
that in dropping from the limb he would certainly meet a watery grave.
All his life he had had a horror of water, and now to be drowned in the
hated liquid was too hard. He made desperate efforts to climb up, on the
limb, but could not do it. His arms were so strained that he thought
they would be pulled from their sockets. He had strung many a negro up
by the thumbs to thrash him, but he little thought he should have been
strung up himself. His strength rapidly failed him, and he found he
could maintain his hold no longer. Closing his eyes, he strove to pray,
but could not. Finding the effort useless, he let go his hold, while a
cold shudder ran through his body--what a moment of supreme agony!--and
dropped into the river. Over such harrowing scenes it were better to
throw a veil of silence, but I must go on. He dropped into the river,
and as the water was only knee deep, he waded to the bank.
His combined emotions overcame him, and on reaching the bank he threw
himself down under the shade of some trees and, completely exhausted,
sunk into a deep sleep. How long he slept he could not tell, but on
awaking he sprang up and hurried to the place where he had left his
horse. Finding it gone, he walked into Montgomery and reported to the
Sheriff, not daring to face the widow after the ridiculous tableau in
which he had been the principal performer.
The Sheriff procured the services of McGibony, and the next day went
with him to Simon's home, and arrested him without difficulty.
In the North, Simon would have been kept a close prisoner; but the
fun-loving inhabitants of Montgomery looked on the whole transaction as
a very good joke, and Simon was decidedly "in clover," having liberty to
go where he wished, and being maintained at the county's expense.
I judged from the circumstances that McGibony was not to be trusted, and
concluded that authorities who could execute the law so leniently, would
be poor custodians for a prisoner of Maroney's stamp.
On my return trip to Chicago I stopped over at Rome, Ga., where
Maroney's father lived. I discovered that the doctor lived well,
although he was a man of small means. I took a general survey of the
town, and then went directly to Chicago.
_CHAPTER V._
On arriving in Chicago I selected Mr. Green to "shadow" Mrs. Maroney.
Giving him the same full instructions I had given the other operatives,
I despatched him for Montgomery. He arrived there none too soon.
Mrs. Maroney had grown rather commanding in her manners, and was very
arrogant with the servants in the house. She also found great fault with
the proprietor, Mr. Floyd, for not having some necessary repairs in her
room attended to.
One of the lady boarders, the wife of a senator, treated her with marked
coolness; and these various circumstances so worked on her high-strung
temperament that she was thrown into an uncontrollable fit of passion,
during which she broke the windows in her room.
The landlord insisted on her paying for them, but she indignantly
refused to do so. On his pressing the matter, she determined to leave
the house and make a trip to the North.
Porter had become quite intimate with the slave-servants in the
Exchange, and easily managed to get from them considerable information,
without attracting any special attention.
One of the servants, named Tom, was the bootblack of the hotel. He had a
young negro under him as a sort of an apprentice. The duties of the
apprentice, though apparently slight, were in reality arduous, as he had
to supply all the spittle required to moisten the blacking; and for this
purpose placed himself under a course of diet that rendered him as juicy
as possible.
Early in the morning Tom and his assistant would pass from door to door.
Stopping wherever they saw a pair of boots, they would at once proceed
to business. The helper would seize a boot and give a tremendous "hawk,"
which would cause the sleeping inmate of the room to start up in his bed
and rub his eyes. He would then apply the blacking and hand the boot to
Tom, who stood ready to artistically apply the polishing brush. During
the whole of this latter operation the little negro would dance a
breakdown, while Tom, seated on the chair brought for his accommodation,
would whistle or sing an accompaniment. By this time the inmate of the
room would have sprung from his bed, and rushed to the door, with the
intention of breaking their heads--not shins--but, on opening the door,
the scene presented would be so ludicrous that his anger would be
smothered in laughter, and Tom generally received a quarter, as he
started for the next door.
Sleep was completely vanquished by the time they had made their rounds,
and the greatest sluggard who ever reiterated "God bless the man who
first invented sleep," would find himself drawn from his downy pillow at
break of day, with never a murmur.
Tom was naturally of an enquiring turn of mind, and as he passed from
door to door saw and heard a good deal. Porter, by giving him an
occasional fee, had made Tom his fast friend, and he would often regale
him with bits of scandal about different boarders in the house.
On the evening of the same day that Mrs. Maroney had given way to her
temper, as Porter was passing through the hall of the hotel, he heard
peals of laughter emanating from the room used by Tom as his blacking
headquarters. Going in, he found Tom, perfectly convulsed with laughter,
rolling around amongst the blacking brushes and old shoes, while the
little negro, with his mouth wide open and eyes starting almost out of
his head, looked at him in utter astonishment.
"Why! what's the matter, Tom?" inquired Porter.
It was some time before Tom could answer, but he finally burst out with:
"Oh! golly, Massa Porter, you ought to see de fun. Missus 'Roney done
gone and smashed all de glass in de winder. I tell you she made tings
hot. Massa Floyd say she must pay for de glass, and she tole him she's
not gwine to stop in dis yer house a moment longer. Yah! yah! yah! Den
Massa 'Roney come, and he fly right off de handle, and tole Massa Floyd
he had _consulted_ his wife. Massa Floyd tole dem dey could go somewhere
else fur all he care. Massa 'Roney tole de missus to pack up and go to
de North, de fust ting in de morning. So Missus 'Roney is gwine to go
North. Wonder what she'll do thar, wid no niggers to confusticate? Yah!
yah! yah!"
Porter drew from the darkey full particulars of the affair, and also
that he had seen Maroney pass a large sum of money over to his wife.
Giving Tom a quarter, Porter hurried off after Green, and got him ready
to start the first thing in the morning. Bright and early on the twelfth
of March, Porter arose, and, _quite accidentally_, ran across Tom, who
had just come down with Mrs. Maroney's shoes.
"She is gwine, sure," said Tom! "she tole me to hurry up wid dese shoes.
Her and Massa 'Roney am habin a big confab, but dey talk so low, dis
nigger can't hear a word dey say."
Porter hurried Green to the train, and came back in time to see Maroney
get into a carriage, with his wife and her daughter Flora, and drive off
toward the station. Maroney secured for them a comfortable seat in the
ladies' car, and, bidding them good-bye, returned to the hotel.
Of course Green was on the same train, but, as I had instructed him, not
in the same car. He took a seat in the rear end of the car immediately
in front of the ladies' car, whence he could keep a sharp lookout on all
that went on.
Mrs. Maroney went directly to West Point, and from there to Charleston,
where she put up at the best hotel, registering "Mrs. Maroney and
daughter."
The next day, leaving Flora in the hotel, she made a few calls, and at
two P. M. embarked on the steamer for New York, Green doing the same.
They arrived at New York on the eighteenth and were met at the wharf by
a gentleman named Moore, who conducted Mrs. Maroney and Flora to his
residence. Green discovered afterwards that the gentleman was a partner
in one of the heaviest wholesale clothing-houses in the city.
He knew nothing further about Mr. or Mrs. Maroney than that Maroney had
treated him with a good deal of consideration at one time when he was
in Montgomery selling goods, and he had then requested Maroney and his
wife to stop at his house if they ever came to New York. Accordingly
Maroney telegraphed to him when his wife left Montgomery, informing him
how and when she would reach New York, and he was at the wharf to meet
her.
Mrs. Maroney and Flora were cordially welcomed by Mr. Moore and remained
at his house for some weeks. They were very hospitably entertained and
seemed to devote their whole time to social pleasures. Green shadowed
them closely and found that nothing of any importance was going on.
Porter remained in Montgomery, keeping in the good graces of Maroney and
his friends, not that Maroney easily took any one into his confidence;
on the contrary, although he was social with every one, he kept his
affairs closely to himself.
Porter never forced himself on Maroney's company, but merely dropped in,
apparently by accident, at Patterson's and other saloons frequented by
Maroney, and by holding himself rather aloof, managed to draw Maroney
towards him.
Maroney used to walk out of town towards the plantations, and Porter, by
making himself acquainted with the planters and overseers of the
surrounding country, discovered that Maroney's walks were caused by a
young lady, the daughter of a wealthy planter; but no new developments
were made in regard to the robbery.
I instructed Porter to "get in" with any slaves who might be employed as
waiters at Patterson's, and worm from them all the information possible
in regard to the habitués of the place.
There were several men with whom Maroney used to have private meetings
at the saloon, and Porter learned from one of the negroes what took
place at them. Maroney would take an occasional hand at euchre, but
never played for large stakes. There was little doubt but that he had a
share in the gambling bank. He frequented the stable where "Yankee Mary"
was kept, and often himself drove her out. From the way the parties at
Patterson's talked, the negro was positive that she belonged to Maroney.
He received several letters from his wife, which Green saw her post, and
Porter found he received in due time. So far all my plans had worked
well. The regular reports I received from my detectives showed that they
were doing their duty and watching carefully all that occurred. Porter,
about this time, learned that Maroney intended to make a business trip
through Tennessee, and that he would, in all probability, go to Augusta,
Ga., and New Orleans.
Everything tended to show that he was about to leave Montgomery, and I
put Roch, my Dutchman, on the alert. I wrote out full instructions and
sent them to Roch; ordered him to keep a strict watch on Maroney, as he
might be going away to change the money, and told him to telegraph me
immediately if anything happened. It was my intention to buy any money
he might get changed, as the bankers in Montgomery stated that they
would be able to identify some of the stolen bills. I warned Roch
against coming in contact with Maroney on his journey, as I surmised
that he was going away to see if he would be followed. This was
certainly his intention.
For some time I had feared that Maroney had some idea of Porter's
reasons for stopping in Montgomery, and felt that if he had, he would be
completely disabused of it by discovering that Porter did not follow
him. He was an uncommonly shrewd man and had formed a pretty good
opinion of detectives and of his ability to outwit them.
He had seen the best detectives from New York, New Orleans and other
places completely baffled. He expected to be followed by a gentlemanly
appearing man, who would drink and smoke occasionally, wear a heavy gold
watch chain, and have plenty of money to spend; but the idea of being
followed by a poor old Dutchman never entered his head.
I charged Roch not to pay any attention to Maroney or to appear to do so
until he started to leave Montgomery, and concluded by saying that I
felt I could trust him to do all in his power for the agency and for my
honor.
Maroney made his preparations for departure, all his movements being
closely watched by Porter.
_CHAPTER VI._
On the fifth of April Maroney, having completed his preparations,
started by the first train for Atlanta, _via_ West Point. The day was a
very warm one, but Maroney was accompanied to the station by a great
number of friends. With many a hearty shake of the hand they bade him
farewell, some of them accompanying him to the first, and some even to
the second station beyond Montgomery. No one could have started on a
journey under more favorable auspices.
Before the train started a German might have been seen slowly wending
his way to the depot. He had no slaves to follow, or wait upon him. No
one knew him, and the poor fellow had not a friend to bid him good-bye.
He went to the ticket office, and in broken English said: "I vants a
teeket for Vest Point;" and stood puffing at his pipe until the clerk
gave him his ticket, for which he paid, and took his seat in a car
called, in the South, the "nigger car." He had a rather large satchel,
and it must be confessed he was decidedly dirty, as he had been toiling
along a dusty road, under the hot Southern sun.
In about ten minutes after, Maroney arrived, with his numerous friends,
stepped on board, and the train slowly drew out of the station.
The German had taken a reversed seat in the rear of his car, and,
apparently indifferent to the lively conversation of the negroes around
him, slowly smoked his pipe. Maroney took a seat in the ladies' car,
talked with his friends, among whom were several ladies, and then had a
merry romp with a child. In about three-quarters of an hour he rose,
and, walking to the front of the car, scrutinized the faces of all the
passengers carefully. Our Dutchman gazed carelessly at him through the
window of the car in which he sat. Maroney passed through the "nigger
car," not thinking it worth while to take notice of its inmates, and
looking on the poor immigrant as no better than a negro. Then he went
into the express car, shook hands with the messenger, chatted with him a
moment, and passed on to the baggage car. At the first station he
stepped off, met several friends, and was well received by all. The
conductor collected no fare from him, as he had been a conductor at one
time, and that chalked his hat "O. K."
He left the train at every station, looked keenly around with an eye
that showed plainly that he was fighting for liberty itself, and then
returning, passed through it, carefully examining the faces of the
passengers. By the time they reached West Point he had regained his old
firmness--at least the German thought so.
If any one had watched, they might have seen the German go to the ticket
office in West Point and, in broken language, inquire for a ticket to
Atlanta. Having procured his ticket, he went immediately to the
second-class car and continued his journey with Maroney.
At West Point Maroney met several friends, who all sympathized with him.
After drinking with them he went to the train and into the express car,
although it is strict rule of the company that no one but the messenger
shall be allowed in it. The rule is often broken, especially in the
South, where the polite messengers dislike to ask a gentleman to leave
their car. The German took in all that was going on, but who cared for
him? poor, stupid dolt! Maroney remained in the express car a short
time, and then again passed through the train, but discovered nothing to
cause him the slightest uneasiness.
On arriving at Atlanta he proceeded to the Atlanta House, and was given
a room. The German arrived at the hotel soon after him, and throwing
down his satchel, asked, in his broken English, for a room. The clerk
scarcely deigning to notice him, sent him to the poorest room the house
afforded.
Roch, finding that no train left until morning, amused himself with
another smoke, at the same time noticing that Maroney was well received
by the clerk, whom he knew, and by all the conductors and gentlemen who
frequented the hotel. His journey had been almost an entire ovation, and
he had become almost completely self-possessed.
At eleven he retired for the night. Roch, after waiting for some time,
walked noiselessly down the hall to Maroney's room, and listened at the
door. Finding all quiet, he walked down to the office, got the key to
his room, and went to bed.
He got up early in the morning and, with Maroney, took an early
breakfast. He kept a close watch on him, and learned from the
conversation of some of Maroney's friends, to whom he had divulged his
plans, where he was going, and by what route he intended to pursue his
journey. He said that he should be gone some five weeks, but would
return to Montgomery in time to prepare for his trial.
Some of his friends alluded to his arrest for the robbery. He smiled,
and said they would soon find that he was not the guilty party; and
moreover, that the Express Company would find that it would cost them a
good deal before they got through with him, as, after his acquittal, he
would certainly sue them for heavy damages. He knew the wealth of the
company, and that they would "leave no stone unturned" to ruin him, but
he had no fears as to the result, when the facts were laid before a jury
of his countrymen.
He had many acquaintances at Atlanta, and gave himself up to enjoyment.
Roch wrote to me that if he had started out with the expectation of
being followed, he had no such fears now. In the evening Maroney
complained to the clerk about his room, and Roch became uneasy when he
found he had moved to another part of the house. He feared that Maroney
might leave town by some private conveyance, and so kept a close watch
on his movements. He staid up until a late hour, but finding that
Maroney was safe in bed, finally retired. At a very early hour in the
morning he was stirring and patiently waited for Maroney to get up.
Maroney soon came down, apparently in the best of spirits, and ordered
his trunk, a very large one, to be taken to the depot. Roch was seized
with a desire to go through this trunk, and determined to do so if he
possibly could. He had not seen it at Montgomery as it came down with
the other baggage, and one of Maroney's friends had had it checked and
handed the check to him when on the train. His desire was useless, as
he was not destined to see the inside of the trunk, at least not for the
present. He wrote to me of Maroney's having the trunk, and said I might
rely on his examining it if he possibly could.
Maroney took the train for Chattanooga, still paying no fare. Roch
bought a second class ticket and they were soon under way. When about
one hour out from Atlanta Maroney passed through the train eyeing all
the well-dressed men on board, of whom there were a great many, but
paying no attention to the inmates of the "nigger car." He saw no cause
for uneasiness, and soon became the happiest man on board. He passed
through the cars several times before the train reached Chattanooga, and
his spirits seemed to rise after each inspection. When they arrived at
Chattanooga. Maroney put up at the Crutchfield House, and being very
tired did not go out that evening. He seemed well acquainted with the
clerk and some of the guests, drank several times with his friends, and
went to his room quite early. Roch wrote to me from the Crutchfield
House, where he had also put up, giving me a detailed account of all
that had happened, and in a postscript said "Maroney has not the
slightest idea that he is being followed, and all is serene." In the
morning Maroney sauntered around the city, apparently with no particular
object in view, but dropping into some of the stores to visit his
friends. Finally he went into a lawyer's office where he remained some
time. Roch took up a position where he could watch the office without
being observed. At last Maroney came out of the office with a gentleman,
went into a saloon with him, where they drank together, and then
returned to the hotel to dinner. After dinner he smoked until about two
o'clock, and then walked out and started up the main street of the town,
towards the suburbs. The day was intensely warm, and there were few
people stirring in the streets. When Maroney reached the suburbs he
stopped and looked suspiciously around. He took no notice of the German,
who was walking along wrapped up in his pipe, his only consolation.
Being satisfied that no one was following him, he turned around the
corner and suddenly disappeared.
When Roch got to the corner he could not see Maroney in any direction.
There were blocks of fine houses on both sides of the street, and he was
certain Maroney was in one of them. But which one? That he could not
tell. He did not like to leave the neighborhood, but it would not do to
stay. There were few persons on the street, and if he lingered around
the corner he would surely be noticed and suspected. He walked very
slowly around the square, but discovering nothing, and fearing that he
might alarm the quiet neighborhood, he went back to the hotel. He was
now at the end of his rope. He was certain Maroney was in one of the
houses, and feared that he was getting the money changed. He might have
brought it with him, concealed it on his person, and taken it with him
to the house he was now in. Terribly disappointed, he sat down and wrote
to me for instructions, thinking that my letter in reply would most
likely reach him in Chattanooga. At dusk he went out to the suburbs, but
did not find a trace of Maroney. Returning to the hotel, he found that
no train left till morning, and weary and worn he went to his room, and
in a most despondent mood, soon retired. Early in the morning he came
down but there was no sign of Maroney. He determined to peep into his
room, and fortunately managed to do so without being discovered, finding
his trunk and a bundle of soiled linen still there. Somewhat reassured,
he took his breakfast and went down to see the train off. The train
started, but Maroney not putting in an appearance, Roch began to feel
that he must have been outwitted. As he retraced his steps to the hotel
he was astonished to see Maroney on his way to the same place. Roch
having once more got his eye on him, determined, if possible, to find
out where he had passed the previous night. He thought the matter over,
and concluded that for many reasons it would be best to change his
boarding place. The people at the hotel did not think much of a poor
German, and might conclude he could not pay his bill, and as he did not
wish to guarantee payment, he went to his room, brought down his
satchel, and going to the office, paid his bill. He had seen a German
boarding-house down the street, so taking his satchel in his hand, he
went in and enquired if they had a room to spare. He found they had, and
on glancing around discovered that the change in many respects was for
the better, as from the boarding-house he had a clear view of all that
occurred in front of the hotel.
He did not see Maroney again until evening, when he came out, looking
fresh and bright, having evidently refreshed himself by a bath and a
shave.
Maroney went into a saloon, talked to several parties, strolled
leisurely around, returned to the hotel, passed the evening till ten
o'clock with a party of gentlemen, and then retired.
Roch rose early, and found that the landlord, who, like most of his
countrymen, possessed the good habit of being an early riser, had
breakfast ready. After breakfast he took a seat on the verandah, and
watched Maroney as he loitered around. At two in the afternoon Maroney
sauntered out, and started in the direction of the suburbs.
Roch concluded he was going to the place where he had lost him the day
before, and now he had the coveted opportunity of finding his hiding
place.
Walking slowly after him, smoking his pipe and gaping around, until he
reached a cross-street, a block from where Maroney had disappeared
before, he turned down this street, walked rapidly until he reached the
next street running parallel to the one Maroney was on, and turning up
it he ran to the corner above, where he got behind the fence, as if
urged by a pressing necessity. From his position he could see down the
street without being seen.
In a moment Maroney reached the corner, a block from him. Looking
around, as before, he pulled his hat over his eyes, and, walking rapidly
part way down the block, he entered a comfortable looking
frame-building. It was painted a creamy white, and its windows were
protected by the greenest of green blinds.
_CHAPTER VII._
Roch walked around for some time, and then returned to his
boarding-house. Finding no one but the landlord and the bar-keeper in
the saloon, he bought a bottle of wine, and asked them to join him in
drinking it. They gladly consented, and he entered into a conversation
with them, in which he pretended to give them a history of his life, and
his plans for the future.
He complimented the city very highly, saying that he was so much pleased
with it that he had determined to buy some property there. He then
informed them that he had been looking at some houses, and wished to get
the landlord's opinion of them. He--the landlord--had been in the city
for many years, and must be well acquainted with the value of property.
Roch now called for another bottle of wine, and proceeded to describe
some of the houses at which he had been looking. He described several,
but one in particular, he said, had taken his fancy; and he then
described the house Maroney had entered, saying further that he thought
there were several ladies there.
The landlord looked at his bar-keeper and winked, and then giving Roch a
poke in the ribs, said, with a hearty laugh: "Oh! you have found them
out, have you?" Then, with another poke: "You're a sly fellow, you are,"
and burst into a roar of laughter, in which he was heartily joined by
the bar-keeper.
Roch pretended not to comprehend what they meant, and turned the
conversation to other subjects. He felt very happy when he discovered
the character--or rather want of character--of the house, as he now knew
the business Maroney was engaged in.
Maroney did not make his appearance up to the time the train left, so
Roch retired.
Early in the morning he arose, ate his breakfast, and was surprised to
see Maroney, who must have returned in the night, just coming out of the
hotel. Seeing Maroney's trunk just being placed on the baggage wagon, he
hastily paid his bill at the boarding-house, and managed to reach the
station some time in advance of Maroney.
In about half an hour Maroney came up and bought a first-class ticket
for Nashville. Roch bought a second-class ticket to the same place, and
took up his old position in the "nigger car."
Nothing of importance happened between Chattanooga and Nashville.
At Nashville Maroney put up at the City Hotel, while Roch obtained
lodgings at a German saloon just around the corner.
Maroney met plenty of friends, who received him warmly. He amused
himself by going to the livery stables, looking at the horses, and
driving around the city. He met a gentleman and passed a good deal of
time with him, but had no business transactions with him; merely using
him as a companion to help kill time. The weather was all that could be
desired, and Maroney was "gay as a lark."
The second day after his arrival in Nashville, he went into a
jeweler's, and remained over three-quarters of an hour: came out, and at
the end of three hours again went in, this time stopping over an hour.
When he came out Roch discovered that he had a parcel in his hand, and
concluded that he had made a purchase. He at once reported the incident
to me.
The third day, at train time, the trunk was again brought down. Roch
went to the depot, wondering what could be the meaning of this move, as
the train about to start would take them back to Chattanooga.
His suspense was soon put at rest, by Maroney's coming down and buying a
ticket to Chattanooga. Roch followed suit, and they were soon on their
backward track.
Maroney passed through the cars, scrutinizing the passengers, neglecting
those in the "nigger car," as heretofore, which was the only incident of
the trip to Chattanooga.
Here he again put up at the Crutchfield House, while Roch went back to
his German boarding-house. He made some excuses to account for his
sudden return, but they were unnecessary, for, so long as he paid his
bill regularly, the landlord was perfectly satisfied.
The next morning Maroney visited a livery stable owned by a man named
Cook, who was a great favorite. He was said to have a horse which could
out-trot anything in the city. Cook and Maroney drove out several times
with this horse, and Maroney examined him critically. He was a good
judge of horseflesh, and when he was excited would fairly carry a person
away with his vivid description of the delights of "tooling" along
behind a fast horse.
Roch could not certainly tell whether Maroney had bought the horse or
not, but judged he had, as he heard Cook tell Maroney that he should
expect to see him on his return to Chattanooga.
After leaving Cook, Maroney sauntered out to see his fair, but frail
friends. Roch left him there and returned to have a good time with his
countrymen. He had ordered up a bottle of wine, and the landlord and he
were just about to have a game of euchre when he accidentally glanced up
at the hotel.
It was fortunate he did so, as whom should he see going in at the main
entrance but Maroney. He hastily excused himself from the game and
walked out. He had gone hardly a block from his boarding-house before
Maroney came down and got into a carriage. He had gone at once to his
room, ordered his trunk down, paid his bill and was now being hurried to
the depot.
Roch followed as fast as he could. Maroney had allowed himself barely
enough time to check his trunk and step upon the train as it moved off,
so that Roch had to start without his satchel and without buying a
ticket. He did not think much of the loss of his baggage, that little
loss being more than compensated by the joy he felt at not having lost
his man.
He had not the slightest idea where Maroney was going, but took up his
old position in the "nigger car" and watched closely. When the conductor
came around to Maroney, Roch noticed two things: first, that Maroney
bought a through ticket to Memphis; and second, that the conductor did
not know him. Wherever he had gone before, he had met friends, but now
he had left them all behind. Roch followed Maroney's lead and bought a
second class ticket to Memphis.
Maroney, though utterly unconscious of the fact, was as much in the
power of Roch as was Sindbad the Sailor in the power of the little old
man who clung to his neck with a grasp that could not be loosened.
Although, literally, Roch did not touch him, figuratively he held him
with a grasp of iron, and all Maroney's efforts to shake him off would
have proved waste of time and strength.
A storm was impending when they left Chattanooga and it had now burst
upon them in a perfect fury. Night had set in, but flash after flash of
lightning lit up the sky. One moment, objects were rendered distinctly
visible as they dashed by, the next they were lost in gloom. The sparks
from the locomotive were quenched in the falling torrent and the roar of
the train was silenced by the loud peals of thunder.
It was a wild night, but Roch got on the platform to make sure of
Maroney. There were no sleeping-cars at the time and he had no trouble
in getting a good view of him. Maroney was stretched out on his seat
fast asleep. He watched him for some time, and then concluding that
there was little danger of his attempting to leave the car on such a
night, he went back to his seat in the "nigger car."
Ever since he had left Montgomery, Maroney had been executing a series
of strategic movements, and now that he had undoubtedly thrown his
pursuers, if there were any, off his track, why should he not ease his
overwrought mind by sleep, that sweetest of all consolers?
The next morning they arrived in Memphis. The storm had passed away,
but had left mementoes in the fresh and balmy air and in the muddy
streets. Maroney stopped at the Gayosa House. Roch found it an easy
matter to move his baggage, and walked off with his hands in his
pockets, wondering where he could get a clean shirt. He put up at a
saloon where he could keep an eye on Maroney, and having bought some new
shirts and a second-hand satchel, he felt once more that he was a
respectable man.
From Memphis Roch wrote to me, informing me "that all was well; that
Maroney seemed perfectly at ease and confident that if any one had
followed him, he had, by his retrograde movement, thrown him entirely
off the scent." He had not the slightest idea what would be Maroney's
next move, but was certain he could keep track of him.
Maroney appeared familiar with Memphis, but had no friends there, and
amused himself loitering around, occasionally going into a saloon. The
second day of his stay Roch observed him write and post a letter. Then
he visited the livery stables, admired some of the fine horses and
afterwards strolled down to the wharf, where the steamer "John Walsh"
was being loaded with cotton and tobacco. He went on board and looked
over the Walsh, saw the clerk and entered into conversation with him.
Roch heard the clerk say that the steamer would leave in about two
hours, and concluded that Maroney was going down the river on her.
Maroney returned to the Gayosa House and paid his bill, which caused
Roch to hurry to his boarding-house, pay his bill, and with his newly
acquired treasure, the old satchel, hasten to the river and take a
steerage passage to New Orleans on the John Walsh. He was a little
afraid that Maroney might begin to notice him and found it necessary to
use the utmost caution. Before embarking on the Walsh he laid in a stock
of "bolognas," a few pounds of the rankest "Sweitzer kase" and an
abundance of "pretzels."
Coming down to the boat some time before Maroney, he filled his pipe and
took a seat where he could watch all that went on. After some time
Maroney drove up in a carriage, had his trunk carried up to his
state-room, and, lighting his cigar, took a seat and watched the
movements of the crew who were employed in taking on the cargo. It was a
busy scene: the negroes toiled along under the burning sun, lightening
their labors with a merry boatman's song. Their burdens were heavy, but
their hearts were light.
Maroney, instead of looking down on them with the contempt he did,
should have longed for their content and happiness. The meanest of them
possessed what he never could possess--"a contented mind."
In less than half an hour the steamer's bell was rung, friends hurriedly
bade each other good-bye, the gang-planks were hauled in, and the John
Walsh was soon snorting down the river. The decks and cabins of the
Walsh were crowded with passengers; ladies handsomely dressed, planters
going to New Orleans on business or pleasure; tourists making a trip
down the Mississippi for the first time, and being charmed with the
variety of the scenes around them: all was life, gaiety and animation.
Although Maroney would have generally mingled with the passengers, "the
gayest of the gay," he now kept entirely aloof from them. He was
oppressed by the "weight of his secret," and sought "by solitary
musings" to ease his mind. He read a little, glanced at the scenery
along the river, landed and walked around at the different places where
the steamer stopped, but kept entirely to himself.
_CHAPTER VIII._
Nothing occurred worthy of note until they arrived at Natchez, but here
Roch was much amazed to see Maroney's trunk being put on the wharf-boat.
He knew it was the custom of the managers of the wharf-boats to allow
baggage to be left on the wharf, and to collect a small sum for storage;
so he took his satchel and placed it near Maroney's trunk.
He left the boat just in time to see Maroney take the only carriage that
happened to be at the river when the steamer arrived, and drive rapidly
up the hill. He knew that he could get plenty of carriages in a few
minutes, but by that time where would Maroney be? His only sure method
was to follow him at once, and trust to finding a conveyance on the
hill. He followed as fast as he could, and just as he got to the top of
the hill was fortunate enough to meet a negro driving an express wagon.
He immediately struck a bargain with him to drive him around town for a
dollar an hour.
Roch, in his excitement had dropped his German accent, and spoke
uncommonly good English for an immigrant; but the negro, being a very
good talker himself, did not remark it. By Roch's direction the driver
followed on straight up the street in the same direction Maroney had
taken.
Maroney got out of the carriage and went into a store.
It would not do for Roch to wait on the express wagon for Maroney's
reappearance. He, therefore, instructed his driver to await his return,
and stepped into a store, from which, while he was examining some goods,
he could also keep an eye on Maroney's carriage.
What Maroney was doing in the store, was a problem which Roch would have
liked to solve.
In about fifteen minutes Maroney came out, and appearing familiar with
the town, directed his driver where to take him. He was driven to a
comfortable looking house; the negro driver saying something to him, and
motioning toward it. Maroney answered, and the hackman drove away, while
Maroney went into the house.
Roch was now at a loss what steps to take. The hack driver had not been
paid, and in all probability would return for Maroney. If he watched the
house, he might be discovered from behind the blinds; so he determined
to keep his eye on the hack driver. The hackman drove leisurely down to
a saloon, fastened his horses, and went in. Roch opened conversation
with his driver, and found that he was a slave, but that he had got
permission from his master to hire himself out, for which privilege he
paid one hundred dollars a month. After working for some time he had
been enabled to purchase the horse and wagon he drove, and as he was
making money, hoped in a few years to have enough to purchase his own
freedom. Roch concluded he could gain from him some information as to
Maroney's driver, so he carelessly asked him if the hack driver was also
hired out.
"Yes, sah, him ib my cousin," said Sambo.
Roch supposed the negro must have had his _quasi_ freedom, from seeing
him go into a saloon, as the planters never allow their slaves to go
into drinking-places; not because they think it immoral, but because the
slaves would most likely become unfit for work.
Roch asked the negro if he knew where they kept good brandy.
"Golly, ib you want good licker, dis yer sloon is de place to find it!"
"Drive up, and we will sample some of it," ordered Roch.
Sambo willingly obeyed, and they went into the saloon. Roch again
assumed his German accent. The two negroes at once recognized each
other, and Roch, in his broken way, said:
"Vel, poys, vat vill you haf?"
The niggers grinned from ear to ear, and replied:
"De same ab you, boss."
"Barkeeper, you haf any lager got? Nein? Och, mine Got, dis ish von h--l
of a blace! Notting put prandy und vhisky! I pelieves I vill go by
Yarmany the steamer next. Vell, give us dree prandys! Trink hearty,
poys. Mine frient," continued he, turning to the hackman, "your peesness
ish goot? No?"
"Yes, sah! I always dribes the gemmen what comes on de steamer. Ya, ha!
Dey nearly all goes to de same place. Dis mornin' a gemmen come on de
steamer, an' say, 'Here, you nigga, dribe me as fas' as you can to
Mudder Bink's.' I'se yer man, says I; an' golly, didn't I make dose
hosses trabel! I was gwine like de debil when he stop me, an' went to de
store. Den I took him to Madam's, and he say, 'Here, Sambo, you jus' go
down town, an' come fur me in two hours;' an' I's gwine back, an' if
dis yer nigga don't get a fiver for his trouble, den dis court don't
know itself!"
"Mudder Beenk's?" exclaimed Roch. "Who vas das?"
"Yah, yah, yah," roared both the darkies. "You don' know Mudder Binks!
Why, she keeps de finest gals on all de ribber."
[Illustration: _"Yah, yah, yah," roared both the darkies, "you don't
know Mudder Binks! why she keeps the finest gals on all de
ribber."_--Page 69.]
Roch was happy when he heard this, as he was now positive that Maroney
was not taking any action to cover up the robbery; so he settled with
the expressman, and returned to the wharf-boat to look after Maroney's
trunk. He saw that the trunk was still where it had been left, and on
going on board of the steamer, found that most of the passengers had
taken advantage of their long stay, and were visiting in the town. Roch
took a seat on the wharf-boat, near the office. He puffed away at his
pipe for some time, staring vacantly around, when he heard a carriage
rattling down the hill. In a moment it stopped, and looking up Roch saw
Maroney almost leaning over him and conversing with a gentleman in the
office.
"Are you the agent of Jones's Express?" he asked.
"Yes," replied the gentleman.
"I thought your office was up the hill. Have you received a package
for --------?" (Roch did not catch the name.)
The gentleman looked over his book, and said:
"No, nothing; but it may have been detained in the New Orleans office."
This was the substance of the conversation.
Maroney went into the office and remained some five minutes, then came
out, and seemed debating some subject in his mind.
The first bell of the Walsh was rung. He hurriedly ordered his trunk on
board, and embarked, closely followed by Roch, "mit his satchel." They
proceeded quietly on their journey until they reached New Orleans, where
Maroney secured a hack and was driven to the City Hotel. He passed the
day walking around, lost in thought, and studying some subject deeply.
During the day Roch concluded that Maroney was going to make a decided
move. But what would it be? He had no one to advise him; none from whom
he could seek counsel, and he was at a loss what to do.
In this strait he telegraphed to me, in Chicago, detailing his
predicament, and asking instructions. He was much surprised at receiving
an answer from Philadelphia, where I then was. I telegraphed him in
cipher, congratulating him on his success so far, and told him not to
mind the loss of his baggage; but to change his disguise, and rig
himself up as a dashing Southerner. Accordingly, the first thing in the
morning, he took a bath, had had his face clean shaven, and, going to
the clothing and other furnishing stores, soon procured a fashionable
outfit.
When he was dressed in his new clothes, what a metamorphosis had he
made, from the clod-hopping Dutchman to the gay, genteel and courteous
citizen! I telegraphed to him that I thought success was almost in his
grasp, and to keep a constant lookout.
He took a room in the City Hotel, and was very much pleased, on coming
into the breakfast room, to find Maroney there. He had to look twice
before he was certain of his man, as Maroney had also changed his
appearance. He had donned a suit of city clothes, had changed the cut of
his whiskers, had had his hair cut short, and had altered his entire
appearance. Now commenced the chase in earnest.
Maroney walked around the hotel, with his hands in his pockets,
occasionally glancing out of the window. Finally he went out on the
street and walked rapidly around. He would walk hurriedly up one street,
cut across, and come down another, and then pass to the point from which
he started, always retracing his steps, and doubling on his track.
The thought at once flashed through Roch's mind that he was endeavoring
to discover if he was followed; and, seeing through his movements, Roch
took up his position at the base of operations, and, as Maroney started
up one street, he waited quietly on the corner, and always found that
Maroney would come around past him in a short time. Maroney spent the
whole morning at these manoeuvres, trying to discover if he was
followed, Roch having much the advantage of him, in being able to keep
watch of him by walking only a fourth of the distance.
I kept the telegraph working, and Roch would take advantage of Maroney's
doublings on his track, to rush to the telegraph office, send a despatch
to me, and, in a short time, rush back for the answer. I informed him
that I did not believe that Maroney had any suspicions of him, but was
keeping a sharp lookout for any of the employés of the Adams Express
Company who might know him, and who were numerous in New Orleans. He
knew the New Orleans detectives who had been employed on the ten
thousand dollar robbery, and had everything to fear from them. He might
run across the General Superintendent of the Southern Division at any
moment, and wished to avoid him if possible.
I impressed on Roch the necessity of the strictest watch. I must confess
that I felt feverish and excited at having Roch all by himself watching
the movements of Maroney, in a place of the size of New Orleans, and if
it had been possible I should have placed more men around him; but that
was now out of the question, and all I could do was to rely on Roch. I
communicated all the facts, as I received them, to the Vice-President,
who was with me.
In the afternoon Maroney strolled down the street and turned into the
Adams Express office. Roch knew no one in the office, and, as this last
move of Maroney's greatly puzzled him, he telegraphed to me for
instructions. I consulted with the Vice-President, and replied: "Trust
no one. Rely on yourself alone." Roch got the answer in about an hour,
during which time Maroney remained in the Express office.
On leaving the Express office, he went to a daguerrean gallery, remained
some time, and then went to the hotel. On Saturday Maroney again went to
the daguerrean gallery and received a package, which Roch supposed
contained his pictures. He telegraphed me to this effect, and, on a
moment's consideration of the incident, I ordered him to procure a copy
of the picture from the gallery if he possibly could. From the gallery
Maroney proceeded to the amphitheatre of Spaulding & Rogers, on St.
Charles street, and Roch, feeling certain that he would remain at
least an hour, went to the telegraph office, sent the above despatch,
and as soon as he received the answer, went directly to the daguerrean
gallery.
He was now the dashing Southerner, and as he gaily entered the gallery,
twirling his handsome cane, he was welcomed by a pleasant smile from a
young lady, an octoroon, who was the only occupant of the room. Although
of negro extraction, it was scarcely discernable, and moreover she was
possessed of most engaging manners. Roch entered into conversation with
her, in the course of which he asked if his friend who called up the day
before, and whom he described, did not have his picture taken. She said
he did, and that she had one left, which was not a very good one. Roch
asked leave to look at it, and she hunted it up and handed it to him. He
immediately recognized it, and giving her a five dollar bill, became its
owner. So much for brass. Thanking the lady, and also thanking his stars
that the proprietor of the gallery was out when he called, he returned
to the amphitheatre. Maroney came out and went to the hotel, where they
both took dinner. After dinner Maroney walked up and down the reception
room, pondering deeply over some subject, and then took some paper and a
pencil from his pocket. Roch watched him closely as he seated himself to
write, and concluded that he was trying to disguise his hand-writing.
Maroney finished and folded the note, and taking his hat, walked out on
the street. As soon as he reached the sidewalk, he began to limp badly,
as though it was almost impossible for him to get along. "Strange,"
thought Roch, "he cannot have met with an accident!" In a short time a
colored boy came along. Maroney stopped him, talked to him a moment,
then gave him the note and the boy ran off, while he remained in the
same place.
[Illustration: "_As he gaily entered the gallery twirling his handsome
cane, he was welcomed by a pleasant smile from a young lady, an
octoroon._"--Page 73.]
What would Roch now not have given to have been able to cut himself in
two, leaving one part of himself to watch Maroney while the other
followed the boy? This, however, being one of the few things that he
could _not_ do, he was obliged to let the boy go while he watched
Maroney. The affair seemed to have come to the sticking point. Maroney's
face showed deep anxiety, and his limping was all a sham. The boy had
taken a note to some place, but where, was the question.
In about twenty minutes the boy returned and said something to Maroney,
but what it was Roch could not find out. Maroney handed the boy some
money and he immediately ran off, while the former dropped his limp,
walked to the hotel, and went at once to his room.
_CHAPTER IX._
Roch walked carelessly past the door of Maroney's room and saw him
busily engrossed in packing up. He lost no time. Where Maroney was going
he did not know. He rushed to the office, paid his bill, went to his
room, changed his clothes, and in less than ten minutes issued from the
hotel, again the plodding Dutchman. Aladdin with his wonderful lamp,
could not have brought about a much more rapid transformation. As he
reached the sidewalk, Maroney had just stepped into a hack, and he heard
him order the driver to get to the steamboat landing as soon as
possible. Roch, with his long pipe and old satchel, followed on behind,
and the citizens he met gazed in wonder to see a sleepy Dutchman travel
at such a rate.
The "Mary Morrison," one of the fast boats of the river, was just
casting off from the wharf as they arrived, and they had barely time to
get on board. Roch had taken up his old quarters in the steerage, and
thoroughly enjoyed the beautiful view as they steamed up past the famous
Crescent City. He had now time to wipe the sweat from his brow, and
wonder what place Maroney was going to. He concluded that he was going
back to Montgomery by way of Memphis. True, it was rather an out of the
way route, but such seemed to be the sort that Maroney preferred. He
could not tell to what point Maroney would pay his fare, but as Memphis
seemed to be the objective point, he took a through second class ticket
to that place. The first one hundred and fifty miles of the journey up
the river is though the richest and most beautiful part of Louisiana.
This part of the river is known as the coast, and is lined on both sides
by waving fields of cane, interspersed with orange groves. Alligators
lie basking in the sun, and the whole scene speaks of the tropics.
Beautiful as was the country, it had no charms for Maroney. His mind was
occupied with other thoughts, and he paced up and down the deck as if
anxious to get to the end of his journey.
All went quietly until they reached Natchez, "under the hill," when Roch
was again astonished to see Maroney's trunk being placed on the wharf
boat. He could not understand this move, but had nothing to do but to
follow. Maroney loitered around the wharf-boat, seeming to have no
business to attend to, but when the Morrison steamed up the river, he
advanced to the agent of Jones' Express, had a brief conversation with
him, paid him some money, and an old trunk was delivered to him. Maroney
did not seem to place any value on the trunk, and had it put carelessly
along with his other baggage. Strange indeed, thought Roch, what can he
want with that old trunk? It was an old box, painted black, and thickly
studded with nails. It was a shaky looking affair, and did not look as
if it would stand much of a chance with a modern "baggage smasher." It
had some old tags pasted on it, which showed where it had been. One
which was partly scraped off, read Montgomery, another Galveston, and
still another New Orleans.
There was nothing to show that it was of any consequence, and Roch
looked carelessly at it, as Maroney had left it carelessly on the
wharf-boat, along with his other trunk, and sauntered up the hill.
Maroney put up at the hotel, still leaving his baggage in charge of the
agent of Jones's Express,--who was also proprietor of the wharf-boat.
Roch followed Maroney up town, but, as he did not know when the boats
arrived going up or down the river, and as it began to grow dark, he
concluded he had better stay on the wharf-boat and keep track of the
luggage. Maroney might leave at any hour of the night, as, on the
Mississippi it is not an uncommon occurrence for an unexpected boat to
land or take off passengers with little or no delay, even at the dead of
night. So he got some lunch, and lay around the wharf-boat, as many poor
people do while travelling. Maroney did not come down during the night,
but Roch felt perfectly easy, so long as he kept the trunks in view.
In the morning a steamer came along, bound down the river. Maroney made
his appearance, but paid no attention to the poor immigrant, whom he
considered beneath his notice. He had his trunks placed on board, and
took passage for New Orleans. Roch was all amazement, and could not
understand why such a chase should have been made after an old trunk. He
was inclined to think that Maroney must have had some business with the
store-keeper in Natchez, but what sort of business he could not
determine. He was sure something had been done in New Orleans or at
Natchez. It might have been with the _ladies_ on the hill, or with the
negro and the lame foot. Whatever it was, it was completely covered up.
He managed to telegraph these particulars to me, at one of the places
where the steamer stopped, and I instructed him to keep right on, and
that I would answer more fully in time.
On arriving in New Orleans, Maroney again put up at the City Hotel,
while Roch went to a neighboring restaurant, to get some refreshments,
intending afterwards to change his clothes, and make his appearance as
the dashing Southerner. He had just finished his meal, when, on looking
over to the City Hotel, he saw Maroney getting into a carriage, on which
his two trunks were already placed. He rushed out as Maroney drove off
in the direction of the depot where passengers take the cars for
Pontchartrain, and then go by steamer to Mobile.
He had to make quick time again, and was fortunate enough to secure the
services of a negro drayman who had a fast horse. With this assistance
he got to the station "on time," and, securing a second-class ticket to
Mobile, was soon away on another route.
After reaching Pontchartrain, and embarking on the steamer, Maroney
seemed happier than he had yet been, and walked around the deck, singing
and whistling, apparently overflowing with good spirits. As his spirits
rose, Roch's fell in a corresponding degree. He was unable to understand
the cause of this change; everything seemed confused to him, and he did
not know what to do. He finally concluded that Maroney had left
Montgomery, going to Atlanta, Chattanooga, Nashville, Memphis, etc.,
merely to see if he would be followed, and now, finding he had not
been, he was returning home in a perfectly easy frame of mind.
So much at least had been done. Roch knew that all his actions had met
with my approval. I was the responsible party, and if I was satisfied,
he was. In the meantime, I was unable to form a definite opinion as to
the reason for the change which had evidently taken place in Maroney.
There was no denying but that something had happened to give him more
courage, and it flashed through my mind: Has he got the money?
I thought nothing about the old trunk, as, if he had had anything
valuable in it, he would not have left it so carelessly exposed, at the
stations, on the wharf-boat, etc. All I could do was to carry out my old
plan: "Watch and wait."
Roch, on the journey to Mobile, took a seat on this identical trunk; he
saw nothing suspicious about the old thing, which was not even locked,
but tied up with ropes. Had it entered his mind that the trunk contained
the money he was after, the battle would have been a short one. But he
knew nothing, positively nothing, which would lead him to suppose that
this was the case; so he had nothing to do but to wait, and wait he did.
On Saturday, the thirtieth day of April, the steamer arrived at Mobile,
and the passengers speedily disembarked. At three in the afternoon a
steamer started up the Alabama river, for Montgomery, and on this boat
Maroney took passage. Among the passengers going to Montgomery were a
number of his friends. There were many ladies among them, and he was
well received by all of them. He took no notice of his baggage, and his
trunks lay carelessly amidst a pile of luggage.
On board all was life and hilarity. Fun and frolic were the order of the
day. There were several horse fanciers on board, with whom he was
acquainted, and he got into a conversation with them, his spirits rising
higher and higher still.
When the boat touched at Montgomery he sprang ashore, where he was
welcomed by a crowd of his friends, and gave orders to Porter to have
his trunks taken up to the hotel. Porter, during his absence, had been
appointed clerk of the Exchange. He was on the wharf when Maroney
arrived, and shook hands with him. He told him he was now at the
Exchange; that it was the best house in town, and that Mr. Floyd would
be glad to welcome him as a guest. Maroney was pleased to hear this, and
told Porter that when his trunks came up to the house he would give him
some splendid cigars to try--some that he had bought on his trip. Porter
saw Roch, but dared not speak to him.
Roch seeing Maroney placed under the espionage of Porter, proceeded to
his Dutch boarding-house and gave himself a thorough cleansing.
Porter had a carriage at the wharf, which Maroney and he entered, and
drove up to Patterson's. They took a few drinks and then went over to
the Exchange, where they arrived just as Maroney's trunks came up. He
directed Porter to send the large trunk to his room, but to place the
old one in the baggage room, and to mark it plainly with his name, so
that no one would take it by mistake.
In the evening Maroney and Porter stepped over to Patterson's and there
met Charlie May, a wealthy harness-maker and a very prominent man. He
was one of Maroney's best friends and was so convinced of his innocence
of the crime he was charged with committing that he had gone on his
bail-bond. They went into a private room and had a social chat,
interspersed with an occasional drink. Several of Maroney's friends came
in and joined the party.
Maroney spoke of the splendid cigars he had bought on his journey, and
told the assembled company that when he opened his trunk he would give
them a chance to prove their quality. All went pleasantly with him, and
Porter was unable to notice any change, with the exception that he was
perhaps a little livelier than before.
He recounted the incidents of his journey, the routes he had taken, the
places where he had stopped, etc., and Porter found it varied little
from the truth. He alluded to the girls he had visited in Chattanooga,
said the stock was splendid, described the situation of the house and
advised them to pay it a visit if they ever went to the town. He spoke
of the fine horses he had seen at Cook's livery stable and of Cook's
being a fine fellow. He also spoke of inspecting the live stock in the
stables at Nashville and at the pleasant dwelling at Natchez, on the
hill, and wound up by declaring he had had a splendid time, and ordering
in Champagne for all the party.
In the morning, after breakfast, he told Porter to have the old trunk
sent up to his room and he would get the cigars he had spoken about.
Porter ordered the colored boy to bring the trunk up, and at Maroney's
request went to the room with him to assist in the opening. When the
trunk was brought up the negro and Porter took off the ropes and Maroney
carelessly opened it. There were four boxes of cigars in it. Maroney
opened one of them, took a handful of cigars from it, gave a number of
them to Porter to try, and when Porter had lit one, said:
"What do you think of that? don't you call that a splendid cigar?"
Porter admitted it was an unusually fine-flavored weed. Maroney then put
some, from each of the boxes, into his pockets, and said he was going to
drive out with "Yankee Mary."
Porter having no good excuse for remaining longer, returned to the
office, whence he was soon recalled by Maroney, who requested him to
have the trunk roped up and placed in the garret, where unclaimed
baggage was usually stored. While this was being done, Porter observed
the four cigar boxes lying carelessly on the bureau. Shortly after he
saw Maroney and Charlie May pass rapidly up the street behind "Yankee
Mary."
_CHAPTER X._
We will now return to the North, where we left Mrs. Maroney enjoying
herself as the guest of Mr. Moore. Green shadowed her closely, and she
did not make a move that was not reported to me. I thought it best to
see Mrs. Maroney myself while she was North, and proceeded to
Philadelphia for that purpose, bringing George H. Bangs, my General
Superintendent, with me. I had concluded to give Mr. Bangs full charge
of all the operatives employed in the case. He was to keep fully
informed of all the movements of Maroney and his wife, receive daily
reports from all the operatives, then daily report to me, and I would
direct him how to proceed, and he would transmit the orders to the
operatives. I had many other cases under way, and could not devote all
my time to this one. Bangs was to remain in Philadelphia, where all the
operatives would send their reports. He was a young man of great
abilities; he had been promoted from the ranks, and I had full
confidence in his capacity. He was cautious--sometimes a little too much
so, or more so than I would be, but still with firmness enough to carry
him through all emergencies.
The reader knows that I was determined to win. The Adams Express Company
had furnished me with all the backing I wanted, and under such favorable
auspices, I said, "Win, I must! Win, I shall!" I did not doubt that
Maroney was the thief. The question now was How can I find the money?
Philadelphia, at that time, was where the main offices of the Adams
Express were located, and the Vice-President was in charge. I held a
consultation with him, and he advised us to remain in Philadelphia and
see Mrs. Maroney; and while the interview was progressing, a dispatch
came to me, from Green, stating that Mrs. Maroney had left New York for
that place. We were all anxious to see her, but I concluded to send
Bangs alone to the station, as different persons had seen us with the
Vice-President, and it might excite comment if we all went.
The train arrived in Camden, opposite to Philadelphia, at eight o'clock
in the evening, and Bangs, who was waiting, had Green point Mrs. Maroney
out to him. He got a good look at her as Flora and she stepped into a
carriage. She was a medium sized, rather slender brunette, with black
flashing eyes, black hair, thin lips, and a rather voluptuously formed
bust.
Bangs and Green followed her to the Washington House, on Chestnut
street, above Eighth, where she and Flora went into the reception room.
She sent for the landlord, who assigned them a suite of rooms, and they
retired.
It will be remembered that Maroney was observed to post a letter while
in Memphis. Roch managed to see the address as it lay on the rack in the
hotel, and found it directed to Mrs. M. Cox, Jenkintown, Montgomery
County, Penn. When I arrived in Philadelphia, I concluded it would be a
good plan to find out who Mrs. M. Cox was, and accordingly detailed Mr.
Fox to procure the information. "His orders were: Go slow; be careful;
be sure not to excite any suspicion." Mr. Fox had been a watch and clock
maker, and was a thorough hand at his trade. I provided him with a
carpet-sack and the necessary tools, and also a few silver watches, of
no great value, which I purchased at a pawn broker's. Thus equipped as
an itinerant clock repairer, and having a few watches to "dicker" with,
he started on foot for Jenkintown, a small place twelve miles from
Philadelphia. He sauntered slowly along with his satchel over his
shoulder, going into a farmhouse occasionally, and finally reached
Jenkintown. Here he passed from house to house, enquiring if they had
any clocks that needed repairing. As he was a good hand, and his charges
most reasonable, only twenty-five or fifty cents for each clock, he soon
had doctored several. He was of a talkative nature, and drew from the
old gossips whom he encountered on his rounds, full descriptions of the
members of different families who lived in or around Jenkintown; and
there is no doubt but that he was much better posted as to their
business and weaknesses than they were themselves.
Toward evening, having done a good day's work, he went to the tavern,
kept by a man named Stemples, and made arrangements to stop with him
while in town. He found that a man named Cox lived in Jenkintown, and
that he was a carpenter by trade. During the evening he was much
surprised to meet Cox at the tavern. Fox was a genial fellow, and, after
a paying day's work always made himself agreeable to those whom he met
at the tavern where he put up. He had the knack of getting easily
acquainted, and soon was on the best of terms with Cox and his friends.
He did not force the acquaintance, but during the evening paid much more
attention to Cox's friends than to Cox.
Fox went through about the same routine the next day, and toward
evening, finding that he had made a dollar and a half, he packed up his
tools and went up to the tavern. Here he found Cox and his friends
again. He told them how successful he had been, and received their
hearty congratulations--they feeling that there was no doubt but that
they would be gainers by his good fortune. Cox and his friends joined in
having a good time at the tinker's expense, and pronounced him the
"prince of good fellows;" though I much fear, had Fox suddenly
importuned them for a small loan, they would have changed their tune;
but as he did not, "all went merry as a marriage bell."
[Illustration: _Cox and his friends joined in having a good time at the
tinker's expense, and pronounced him "the prince of good
fellows."_--Page 86.]
Cox had two bosom friends--Horton and Barclay. They were held together
by ties stronger than those which bind kindred--they were fellow-topers,
and could drink about equally deep. They generally concluded an
evening's entertainment in somewhat the following manner:
Cox would say, "Hic, Barclay, you'r drunk; better go home, hic."
Barclay would insist that he was never more sober in his life, but that
Horton and Cox were "pos-(hic)-tively-(hic)-beasley." All three would
then start off, bent on seeing one another safely home, and, like the
blind leading the blind, generally fall into the ditch. Three irate
women would then make their appearance on the scene, and they would each
be led home, declaring they were never more sober in their lives. Fox
found that Cox was known by his friends as Josh. Cox, and he was what
might be called a lazy loafer, as were also his friends, Horton and
Barclay. Fox did not try to get any information from Cox, but got all he
possibly could from his friends, Horton and Barclay, who proved easy
talkers and kept nothing back. He now concluded it was a good time to
find out about Cox. He discovered in the course of the evening that
Josh. had a clock that needed repairs but did not care to go to the
expense of getting it fixed. So he said: "Josh., you are a pretty good
sort of a man, and I'll tell you what I will do for you; I am not going
to work in the morning, and so I will come down to your house in the
course of the forenoon and fix up your clock for you and not charge you
a cent for the job." Cox was so much pleased at this liberal offer that
he took another drink at Fox's expense and went home highly delighted.
In the morning Cox called for Fox, and again drinking at his expense,
conducted him to his house and gave him the clock to repair. Fox now saw
Mrs. Cox for the first time. She seemed a very civil woman and a great
talker. She was of middle stature, with black hair and eyes, and dark
complexion. When I received this description, I immediately said she
must be a relative of Mrs. Maroney's, and so she eventually proved. In
the course of the conversation Fox gleaned that Mrs. Cox had some
relatives living in Philadelphia, which was nothing astonishing, and he
got very little information from her. Cox was out of employment, but
expected work soon; his house was commodious and very neatly kept, and
Mrs. Cox seemed a good housekeeper. Having finished the repairs to the
clock, Fox returned to the tavern, where he found Barclay and Horton,
and soon had the glasses circulating. The pleasant liquor caused all the
parties to grow familiar, and Fox was regaled with many a rare bit of
scandal. He finally spoke of the Coxes from whom he had just returned,
and was at once given their history so far as it was known in
Jenkintown. The family had been in the town about four years, and had
moved there from Morrisville, N. J. Josh. was not inclined to work, and
just managed to scrape enough money together to live on. They had three
children, and Mrs. Cox was a native of Philadelphia. Fox concluded, from
all he saw and heard, that the people of Morrisville would be able to
give him full information of the antecedents of the Coxes, and came into
Philadelphia on the following day to get instructions. I was perfectly
satisfied with what he had done so far, and on the next day sent him to
Morrisville. Fox plied his trade in Morrisville with great success, and
soon got acquainted with many of its inhabitants. His disguise was a
splendid one to travel with, as at that time the clock-maker was
welcomed everywhere, and while engaged at his work would amuse his
patrons with thrilling stories of his adventures, or with the details of
city life. In this way Fox got acquainted with many people who knew the
Coxes when they were living at Morrisville, and they unanimously gave
Josh. the character of a "ne'er do weel," although there was nothing
against him but his laziness. Josh. had lived for three years in
Morrisville, and but very little was known of his previous life. His
wife was known as a hard-working woman, and that was all that could be
learned about her. Fox discovered, incidentally, that Josh. had a
brother living at Centreville, near Camden, in the State of New Jersey.
After a while he got around there, travelling all the way by the wagon
road, and occasionally repairing a clock on the way. It would not do
while assuming his present character to travel by rail.
On getting to Centreville he at once proceeded with his "dickering,"
being ready to either mend a clock or trade a watch. He found there was
a Jim Cox in town who had a clock to fix, so he went to his house and
got the job. He entered into conversation with Jim while engaged in
repairing the clock, but found him a surly, uncommunicative, unsocial
man, but Fox was a thoroughly good fellow and did not mind an occasional
rebuff. So he took up the conversation, explained what was the matter
with the clock, gave an interesting description on the works of clocks
in general, and finally partially thawed Jim out. "By the by," said Fox,
"I repaired a clock for a man of your name in Jenkintown; it was in a
very bad condition, but I fixed it up as good as new; so I will this
one. Do you know this Cox? they call him Josh. Cox.
"Oh, yes!" laughed Jim, "he is a brother of mine!"
"I am glad to hear it!" remarked Fox, "he is a mighty fine fellow! His
wife is a very superior woman. Let me see, who was it her sister married
down South? She has a sister there, hasn't she?"
"Yes," said Jim.
"Where?" enquired Fox, as he put a pin in the clock.
"I don't remember the name of the place; used to know it. Her husband is
agent for the Adams Express at--at--yes--Montgomery! that's it,
Montgomery! Don't remember her husband's name."
"You are like me in having a bad memory for names," said Fox, and then,
having got the information he wanted, he turned the conversation to
other subjects, all the time keeping busily engaged at his work.
He made a first class job of the clock, so that no enquiries should be
afterwards instituted, and collecting his bill, slowly wended his way to
Camden. From Camden he crossed the river to Philadelphia and reported to
me at the Merchants' Hotel. Bangs and I were seated in a private room
when Fox came in. After hearing his report I turned to Bangs and said:
"The plot thickens! Every day we are nearing success! We have the woman
treed at last, and in the North, among our friends! Depend upon it we
shall have the money ere long!"
_CHAPTER XI._
On Saturday I removed to the Washington House, as Mrs. Maroney was still
there. I found she did not go out much, seeming to prefer to remain in
her room with Flora. Sunday morning I went to the breakfast room with
the determination of seeing her, but although I waited and waited, she
did not come, and I afterwards found that she had taken her breakfast in
her room.
I loitered about the house till after twelve, noon, at which time I was
standing near the main entrance when I noticed a carriage drive up and
stop. A gentleman alighted and walked into the hotel. In about twenty
minutes Mrs. Maroney appeared escorted by the gentleman--a tall,
handsome man, about forty-five years old--entered the carriage with him
and was driven rapidly off, unaccompanied by Flora.
I was completely nonplussed, as she was gone almost before I knew she
was there. As it was mid-day and in the heart of the city, it would not
do for me to run after them, as I would soon fall into the hands of the
police by having the cry of stop thief raised after me. I felt very much
like following and standing my chances, as at that time I was young and
supple, but before I could come to a conclusion the carriage was whirled
around the corner of Tenth street and lost to view.
I loitered around for some time and then started towards my room. As I
reached the head of the stairs, I saw a little girl playing in the hall,
and, from the description I had received, concluded that she must be
Flora. As she came past me I patted her gently on the head and calling
her a sweet little girl, had a few seconds conversation with her.
Glancing down the stair-way, I saw a lady looking out from the door of
the reception room:
"Oh, my dear!" said I, "there is your ma; she seems to be looking for
you!"
"That ain't my ma!" she answered. "My ma has gone for a drive with Mr.
Hastenbrook!"
"Oh, indeed! Where is she going?"
"She's gone to Manayunk! You can't catch me!"
And Flora, who was full of fun, darted down the hall.
I had gained a point and I hurried to the Merchants' Hotel, saw Bangs,
posted him, and started him off in a carriage for Manayunk to note the
actions of Mrs. Maroney and her escort. Bangs soon had them under his
eye and was enabled to get a good, full look at her escort, Mr.
Hastenbrook. He found, afterwards, that Mr. Hastenbrook was the head of
one of the largest shirt manufactories in the city. He carried on an
extensive business with the South, and, outside of his business, was
known as a great ladies' man. He was very gallant to Mrs. Maroney, and
Bangs concluded, from their actions, that they also "loved not wisely."
At five o'clock they returned and Hastenbrook took supper at the
Washington House. At supper I had a good full view of them, but neither
of them noticed me, as I was dressed in coarse, rough clothes--a common
occurrence with me. She little thought how closely I held her fate in my
hands. Mr. Hastenbrook remained in her room till after midnight, Flora
having gone to bed long before he left.
On Monday morning I left her in charge of Green and went to talk over
matters with the General Superintendent. Suddenly Green burst in upon us
and said that Mrs. Maroney and Flora had gone to the North Pennsylvania
station.
I was much annoyed at his having left her to report and ordered him to
go as quickly as possible to the station. If she had gone he must follow
her on the next train and get off at Jenkintown. I described Cox and his
residence and told him to watch and see if he could not find her
somewhere in the neighborhood.
I told the Vice-President that I did not doubt but that Mrs. Maroney
knew the particulars of the robbery, and I had some idea that she had
the money with her. Jenkintown was a small place, where she felt she
could hide securely, and remain covered up for an indefinite time.
There, almost directly under our noses, the money might be concealed.
I mentioned the necessity of having a "shadow" sent down to Jenkintown,
to watch all her movements, and if she moved to follow her, as we must
know all she did. I mentioned that it would be necessary to get into the
good graces of the postmaster at Jenkintown, so that we could tell where
all the letters she received were post marked, and to whom her letters
were directed.
In regard to Mr. Hastenbrook, I thought his attentions were those of a
"free lover," but that if he was seen with her again I would have him
watched. I drew the Vice-President's attention to the benefits which
would result from putting a female detective on, to become acquainted
with Mrs. Maroney at Jenkintown, as she would undoubtedly be the best
one to draw her out.
At that time I had in my employ, and at the head of my establishment,
one of the greatest female detectives who ever carried a case to a
successful conclusion. She had been in my employ for two years, and had
worked up the cases given her in an astonishingly able manner, proving
herself a woman of strong, clear discernment. As she takes a prominent
part in bringing to light the facts which follow, and in clearing away
the mystery that overhung the disappearance of the forty thousand
dollars, a short description of her may not prove uninteresting.
Two years prior to the time of which I am now writing, I was seated one
afternoon in my private office, pondering deeply over some matters, and
arranging various plans, when a lady was shown in. She was above the
medium height, slender, graceful in her movements, and perfectly
self-possessed in her manner. I invited her to take a seat, and then
observed that her features, although not what would be called handsome,
were of a decidedly intellectual cast. Her eyes were very attractive,
being dark blue, and filled with fire. She had a broad, honest face,
which would cause one in distress instinctively to select her as a
confidante, in whom to confide in time of sorrow, or from whom to seek
consolation. She seemed possessed of the masculine attributes of
firmness and decision, but to have brought all her faculties under
complete control.
In a very pleasant tone she introduced herself as Mrs. Kate Warne,
stating that she was a widow, and that she had come to inquire whether I
would not employ her as a detective.
At this time female detectives were unheard of. I told her it was not
the custom to employ women as detectives, but asked her what she thought
she could do.
She replied that she could go and worm out secrets in many places to
which it was impossible for male detectives to gain access. She had
evidently given the matter much study, and gave many excellent reasons
why she could be of service.
I finally became convinced that it would be a good idea to employ her.
True, it was the first experiment of the sort that had ever been tried;
but we live in a progressive age, and in a progressive country. I
therefore determined at least to try it, feeling that Mrs. Warne was a
splendid subject with whom to begin.
I told her to call the next day, and I would consider the matter, and
inform her of my decision. The more I thought of it, the more convinced
I became that the idea was a good one, and I determined to employ her.
At the time appointed she called. I entered into an agreement with her,
and soon after gave a case into her charge. She succeeded far beyond my
utmost expectations, and I soon found her an invaluable acquisition to
my force.
The Vice-President placed such full reliance in me that I had no
hesitation in giving him the above sketch of Kate Warne, and advising
that she be sent to Jenkintown, accompanied by a young lady who should
have no direct connection with the case, but simply act as Kate's
companion and friend. I knew this would greatly increase the expenses,
but, as he well knew, we were now dealing with an uncommonly smart man
and woman, and in order to succeed, we must be sharp indeed!
As I had previously said, when a person has a secret, he must find some
one in whom to confide, and talk the subject over with him. In this case
Maroney had evidently confided the secret of the robbery to his wife,
and now, while they were apart, was the time to draw it out. What was
wanted was a person who could ingratiate herself into the confidence of
Mrs. Maroney, become her bosom friend, and so, eventually, be sure of
learning the secret of her overwrought mind, by becoming her special
confidante.
I also suggested the propriety of placing a handsome, gentlemanly man at
Jenkintown, who should be provided with a span of horses and a handsome
carriage, and deport himself generally as a gentleman of leisure. His
duties would be to get up a flirtation with Mrs. Maroney, prevail on her
to drive out with him, and, if possible, entice her to quiet, little
fish-suppers, where he could ply her with champagne, and, under its
exhilarating influence, draw from her portions of her secret. A woman of
Mrs. Maroney's stamp, while separated from her husband, would most
likely desire gentlemen's company, and as she, like most of her class,
would put up with none but the handsomest, it was necessary to select as
fine a looking man to be her wooer as could be found. She seemed to have
already provided herself with a lover, in the person of Hastenbrook,
and it was necessary to get some one able to "cut him out."
The company had a gentleman in their employ, named De Forest, whom I
thought admirably adapted for this purpose, and if the Vice-President
would allow me, I would assign to him the task of becoming Mrs.
Maroney's lover. The instructions I would give him would be few and
simple, and he need know nothing of the case, further than that he was
to go to Jenkintown with a carriage and span of horses, make himself
acquainted with Mrs. Maroney, and report daily all that took place.
I had already given Mr. Bangs entire charge of the detectives employed
in the case, so that he would remain in Philadelphia, while I would keep
up a constant communication with him by telegraph and mail.
The Vice-President coincided with me in all my plans, and said the Adams
Express were going to let me have my own way, and that they had
unbounded confidence in me. I felt that their placing such entire
confidence in a young man like me was indeed flattering, and I was
determined to prove to them that their confidence was not misplaced.
Having made all necessary arrangements in Philadelphia, I left for
Chicago to prepare Mrs. Warne and her friend for the case.
De Forest was given the necessary instructions, and drove out to
Jenkintown with his team. He was a man about thirty-five years old, five
feet eleven inches in height, remarkably good looking, with long black
hair, and full beard and mustache, and in Philadelphia he was known as a
perfect "lady-killer."
On getting into Jenkintown he put up at the tavern, and made
arrangements to spend the summer. He then drove back to Philadelphia,
reported to the Vice-President and Bangs, got his trunk, and drove back
to Jenkintown.
_CHAPTER XII._
De Forest loitered around Jenkintown, and found that a gentleman who
owned beautifully laid out grounds allowed the public to frequent them
at certain times, so long as they did no damage to the walks or the
flowers. The garden was a charming place, and Mrs. Maroney and Flora
would often pass the morning in strolling through it. De Forest
discovered this, and made the grounds a place of constant resort. The
first day or two, as he passed Mrs. Maroney and her daughter, he would
politely raise his hat to them. Then he would meet Flora as she ran
around the grounds, and by paying her little attentions, soon caused the
mother's heart to warm toward him, and made the daughter the medium of
forming the mother's acquaintance. At the end of three or four days Mrs.
Maroney remarked to Mrs. Cox: "What a fine man Mr. De Forest is!" All
worked well.
When she went to Philadelphia, Green, who was shadowing her, entirely
unknown to De Forest, found that she frequented a famous restaurant on
Eighth street, where she met Mr. Hastenbrook. In the evening, on her
return to Jenkintown, she always met De Forest and strolled around with
him. What with the gallant Hastenbrook, with his splendid mustache, on
the one hand, and the sentimental De Forest, with his long hair and full
beard, on the other, she had her hands full, and felt that her lot was
cast in pleasant places. We will leave her to enjoy herself, and turn
our attention to Chicago.
On my arrival, I selected Mr. Rivers as the best man to go to
Jenkintown, and lie quietly in wait, keeping a sharp lookout on the
movements of Mrs. Maroney. He was born and brought up in Philadelphia,
and was well acquainted with it and the surrounding country. I gave him
full, clear instructions as to the part he was to perform in this drama
of real life, and he started the same day for Philadelphia, where he was
to report to Mr. Bangs. I also saw Kate Warne, told her I wanted her to
make a trip, and to get ready as soon as possible. She was also to get a
Miss Johnson to be her companion.
In the morning she came to me for instructions. I gave her a full
history of the case, and of all the steps that had been taken up to the
time; described Mr. and Mrs. Maroney, stated that I thought they were
not married, and, so far as pomp and splash made fine society, they
frequented it. I then said: "You remember Jules Imbert, of Bills of
Exchange notoriety?"
She answered, with a smile, that she remembered him well.
"Then," said I, "you had better assume to be his wife. Mrs. Maroney will
most likely wish to remain in retirement for some time. She will
probably remain in Jenkintown all summer and spend the winter in
Philadelphia. You know all about Jules Imbert's operations, so you will
arrange for a permanent stay in Jenkintown, get acquainted with Mrs.
Maroney, and when you get thoroughly familiar with her, make her your
confidante, and to show her how implicitly you rely on her friendship,
disclose to her that you are the wife of a noted forger, who is serving
a term in the penitentiary. As confidence begets confidence, Mrs.
Maroney will, most certainly, in time unbosom herself to you."
I described the different persons engaged on the case: De Forest, the
lover; Green, the "shadow," etc., and instructed her that not even De
Forest was to know who she was or what her errand.
In a few days handsome toilets were ready for Kate Warne--whom we will
hereafter know as Madam Imbert--and Miss Johnson. As soon as possible I
started for Philadelphia accompanied by the two ladies, and on arriving
in the city took rooms in the Merchants' Hotel. Kate Warne felt sure she
was going to win. She always felt so, and I never knew her to be beaten.
Mr. Bangs reported that he had sent Rivers on to Jenkintown, where he
obtained board in a private family. He pretended that he had a very sore
arm, which prevented him from working and obliged him to go up to
Philadelphia to get it dressed. As he was doing nothing he concluded he
would live in Jenkintown, where board was much cheaper than in the city.
Green had been ordered to Philadelphia to take charge of Mrs. Maroney
when she came up to the city, or to follow her if she started on another
trip.
Madam Imbert and Miss Johnson drove out to Jenkintown and passed a
couple of days at the tavern. They found that the rooms, though plain,
were very neatly kept, and that the table was abundantly supplied with
good, substantial food. Madam Imbert expressed herself well satisfied
with the town, the purity of the air, and its beautiful drives and
walks; and as her system had become rather debilitated by a long
residence in the South, she thought she would spend the summer there and
recuperate her failing health. She made an arrangement with the landlord
to spend the summer at his house, drove into Philadelphia and reported
to me. She had her baggage sent out, and the following day returned with
Miss Johnson and they took up their abode in the tavern.
The reader will observe that Jenkintown is having a large increase made
to its population, principally of male and female detectives. Stemples,
the landlord of the tavern, had seldom had so many distinguished guests,
and visions of Jenkintown becoming a fashionable summer resort floated
before him, and he felt that the day was not distant when his humble
tavern would, in all likelihood, be turned into a huge caravansary,
filled to overflowing with the élite of society.
All went smoothly with De Forest and Mrs. Maroney in their love-making.
Every day they met and strolled through the shaded walks of the garden.
He lavished a great deal of tenderness on Flora, which he would gladly
have bestowed on the mother, and Flora was no more charmed with him than
was Mrs. Maroney.
One day, as they strolled through the most secluded part of the grounds,
De Forest, with a beating heart, presented a beautiful bouquet to her.
Mrs. Maroney accepted it with a pleasant smile, held down her head a
little and blushed most charmingly. De Forest was more than elated, he
was fascinated. He met me in Philadelphia a day or two after and said
with much feeling:
"Why, Pinkerton, why _do_ you keep watch of such a woman? She is the
most beautiful, most charming lady I ever encountered! By heavens! I am
in love with her myself!"
I advised him to be careful, as the woman might be very beautiful, but
still be a serpent! I found he made a truly devoted lover, and so I had
nothing to complain of in that respect.
When Madam Imbert and Miss Johnson arrived at Stemples's, the
inhabitants of Jenkintown were agog to know who they were and whence
they came. They evidently belonged to a high class of society, and all
sorts of stories were circulated about them. The taller of the two
ladies was quiet, not given to conversing much, and was very kind and
considerate with the servants at the hotel.
De Forest had managed to scrape up a slight acquaintance with them at
the breakfast table, and when Mrs. Maroney, who, like everyone else, had
heard of their arrival, casually remarked that she wondered who they
were, he was enabled to inform her that the tall lady was from the South
and that her name was Madam Imbert.
This was enough for Mrs. Maroney, she loved the South. Maroney was a
Southerner, and her heart warmed toward any one from there, so she
determined to avail herself of the first opportunity of getting an
introduction to Madam Imbert.
She entered into a dissertation on Maroney and his virtues; did not
exactly say that he owned any negroes, but hinted that he would soon do
so. She spoke of Maroney as a man who had plenty of money. De Forest
turned the conversation from Maroney as soon as possible, for, to tell
the truth, he was as much in love with her as was the gallant
Hastenbrook, and "my husband" was a term that grated harshly on his ear.
De Forest learned that she was going into Philadelphia on the following
day, and determined to ask her to let him have the pleasure of driving
her in. He had the proposition several times at his tongue's end, but
held back from uttering it, for fear she should decline. At length he
summoned up courage enough to disclose his wish. Mrs. Maroney had a
habit of blushing. She blushed very sweetly, and accepted his kind offer
with many thanks.
De Forest was now all animation. He went to the tavern, had his buggy
and set of harness cleaned and scoured till they were bright as new, and
gave orders to the groom to bring up his horses in the morning without a
hair out of place. When a lady and gentleman go out for a drive they
like to be by themselves, and generally find a child somewhat _de trop_.
De Forest sincerely hoped that Flora would not be brought along, but,
oh! deceitful man, he expressed a wish to Mrs. Maroney that the darling
child accompany them. Mrs. Maroney very much relieved him by deciding
that Flora had better remain at home and amuse her auntie, who would be
_so_ lonely without her!
Bright and early in the morning De Forest was up, and in the stable,
seeing that everything was just as it should be about his turn-out. He
then dressed himself carefully, ate a hurried breakfast, put on a
stylish driving coat, and, jumping into his buggy, drove down to Cox's.
Mrs. Maroney looked perfectly bewitching as she appeared, dressed in a
bright spring costume, and De Forest tingled in every vein, as he helped
her into the carriage and took a seat beside her. He grasped the reins,
and the handsome bays were off with a bound.
What would have been Maroney's feelings if he could have seen his wife
and her gay cavalier?
It was a beautiful April morning; the breeze was fresh and exhilarating;
the fields were clothed with verdure, and the trees loaded with buds.
From every side the birds poured forth their song. It was the season of
love, and who could be more completely "in season" than was De Forest?
The roads were in splendid condition, and they bowled along rapidly,
carrying on an animated conversation. When they arrived in Philadelphia,
De Forest drove to Mitchell's restaurant, opposite Independence Hall,
where Mrs. Maroney alighted, and he drove off to stable his horses,
intending to return at once and order a hearty dinner.
_CHAPTER XIII._
De Forest, after stabling his horses, proceeded to the Adams Express
Office and reported his success to the Vice-President and Mr. Bangs. He
was highly elated, and they laughed heartily to see how well the play
worked.
"By-the-by!" said De Forest, "I promised to go right back and meet her.
Oh! I almost forgot! two ladies have lately arrived in Jenkintown; I
think they are rich, at least the taller one is so reported. Her name is
Madam Imbert, and she is from the South. They don't go out much; go to
the gardens occasionally, and Mrs. Maroney is anxious to form their
acquaintance; I think I will get thoroughly acquainted with them
by-and-by."
The Vice-President and Bangs paid no attention to this, knowing that
Madam Imbert could take care of herself. They instructed De Forest to
attend to his own business, let other people alone, and with this
admonition sent him off.
What was De Forest's astonishment on returning to the restaurant to find
the _lady_ gone! He did not like it, but concluded the only thing he
could do was to wait. There are plenty of loafers around "Independence
Hall" at any time, day or night, so drinking a mint julep and lighting a
cigar, he joined the throng. He fumed and fretted for over an hour and a
half, when he saw Mrs. Maroney coming down the street, looking very
warm. He met her and she excused herself by saying that she had called
on a lady friend who lived on Spruce street, just above Twentieth, and
finding her sick had been unable to get away; that she had walked back
very fast and felt completely exhausted.
De Forest felt very sorry, and tenderly said she must not over-exert
herself. He then ordered dinner, which was served up regardless of cost,
and which they washed down with a few bottles of champagne of the very
best brand. They were soon the happiest of friends, and all thoughts of
separation had vanished from De Forest's mind.
It is strange what a difference there will sometimes be in reports.
About two hours after De Forest made his report, Green came in and
reported that according to orders he had "shadowed" De Forest and Mrs.
Maroney when they drove into the city.
De Forest had left Mrs. Maroney at Mitchell's and driven off while he
remained and kept his eye upon her. She left Mitchell's, walked over to
the Washington House and went into a room where she remained for over an
hour and a half. She left the hotel with Mr. Hastenbrook, who politely
bade her good-bye at the corner of Eighth street, while she went down to
Mitchell's and met De Forest, poor De Forest! but, "where ignorance is
bliss, 'tis folly to be wise." After dinner De Forest ordered up his
horses, and the happy pair, rendered extremely sentimental by the
mellowing influence of the wine, started on their homeward journey. They
stopped at a wayside inn a few miles out of the city, had a mint julep,
and then proceeded on their way home, both very happy, and De Forest
decidedly _spooney_.
Rivers had an easy time of it at Jenkintown. He got well in with Josh.
Cox and his friends Horton and Barclay. In fact any one with a little
money to spend on drinks could easily form their acquaintance. He became
so thick with Josh. that Josh. would gladly have taken him into his
house as a boarder had it not been for the fact that Mrs. Maroney and
her daughter were boarding with him and had taken up all the spare room.
Rivers did not become acquainted with Mrs. Maroney, as she was proud and
arrogant, and would disdain to form the acquaintance of any low "white
trash" like him. Whenever Mrs. Maroney went to Philadelphia he followed
her and excused his frequent absences to Josh. by stating that he went
up to get his arm dressed. That arm was indeed a very sore one, and his
physician must have made a small fortune out of him alone. When Rivers
found that Mrs. Maroney was going into town with her escort, he would go
in on the train and get to the outskirts of the city in time to meet
them as they drove in. She was generally accompanied by De Forest, who
had become her constant attendant. After they reached the city they had
to drive slowly, and so he could follow them with ease. De Forest had
been ordered to always drive to Mitchell's when he came in with Mrs.
Maroney, and Green was there ready to take charge of her when they
arrived, relieving Rivers, who would return by the evening train to
Jenkintown.
Mrs. Maroney had a great desire to become acquainted with Madam Imbert
and Miss Johnson. Madam Imbert appeared very sad, and it was currently
reported that she had brought the lively Miss Johnson with her to
console her and keep her in good spirits. The desired introduction was
brought about by an accident. Mrs. Maroney was taking her accustomed
stroll through the pleasure grounds, accompanied by De Forest and Flora.
Flora, as usual, full of fun, was running far ahead of her, when she saw
two ladies coming down a cross-path. As she turned her head to look at
them, still running at full speed, she caught her foot in the grass
borders of the walk and was thrown violently to the gravel pavement. The
ladies, who proved to be Madam Imbert and Miss Johnson, rushed to her,
and the Madam picked her up. Flora had scratched her hands badly, and
Madam Imbert had partially bound them up before her mother and De Forest
arrived. This led to an introduction, and Mrs. Maroney was not slow in
following it up.
The next day Madam Imbert received a call from Mrs. Maroney, who wished
to more fully return her thanks for her kindness to her daughter. The
acquaintance progressed slowly, Mrs. Maroney making all the advances.
There was something about Madam Imbert that seemed to draw one toward
her. Mrs. Maroney felt that the Madam was a better woman than she, and
that it did her good to pass an hour in her company. As she became more
familiar with her, she discovered that Madam Imbert received many
letters through the post, and often found her crying over them. The
Madam would put them hurriedly to one side, and greet her with a forced
smile which showed the efforts she made to hide her grief. Mrs. Maroney
deeply sympathized with her, as she compared her own gay and happy
life, free from care, to Madam Imbert's, from which every ray of
sunshine seemed to have been blotted out.
On one of the trips which Mrs. Maroney made to Philadelphia with De
Forest, Rivers, who had headed them off, as usual, at the outskirts of
the town, and was following them in, was observed by De Forest. De
Forest had seen the man with the sore arm just before they left
Jenkintown, and he now noticed him following them from block to block.
He had no idea that the man could be following Mrs. Maroney, and
supposed he must be following him. The idea flashed into his mind that
it must be some inquisitive boor, who was following him merely out of
prurient curiosity to see how he conducted himself with Mrs. Maroney. He
did not mention the matter to her, but as he saw the man still following
him his anger overflowed, and he determined that when he left Mrs.
Maroney at Mitchell's, he would find out what the fellow wanted with
him. When he arrived at Mitchell's Mrs. Maroney went in, and he drove to
the stables with the horses. Rivers met Green here, and turning Mrs.
Maroney over to him, came to the office of the Adams Express and
reported to Bangs.
Bangs gave him his instructions and he went out of the office by the
rear entrance. He saw De Forest in the alley, but as he had nothing to
do with him, let him go. He went down Chestnut street, turned into
Third, where the cars start from, and, as he had a few hours to spare,
determined to see some of his old friends. He had been loafing around
about an hour when one of the detectives of the city force stepped up
to him, and, tapping him on the shoulder, said: "You are my prisoner."
"What have I done to deserve arrest?" demanded Rivers, completely
dumbfounded.
"Never you mind that! you're my prisoner, and if you don't come along
quietly, you'll pay for it!" was all the consolation he got from the
detective.
"But I haven't done anything," pleaded Rivers.
"There, just shut up, now! I don't want any of your talk. I know my
business, and you're my prisoner; so just you come along."
Rivers, finding resistance useless, went with him. At the same time he
saw De Forest looking on, and seeming to rather enjoy his predicament.
As the detective was taking him up Chestnut street toward his
headquarters, they passed the Adams Express Office. Bangs happened to
step out at this moment, and was much amazed to see Rivers under arrest.
They said nothing, but Rivers looked steadily at Bangs, and Bangs at
him. Without a moment's reflection, Bangs rushed off to report the
arrest of Rivers to me. I was holding a consultation with Madam Imbert
and Miss Johnson, at the Merchants' Hotel. Everything was working well,
and I felt particularly happy, when Bangs rushed in and dispelled my
happiness by stating that Rivers had been arrested. At the news, my
heart fairly jumped into my mouth. I had felt success almost within my
grasp, and now my plans had fallen through entirely.
The thought at once flashed through my mind that Hastenbrook was at the
bottom of the trouble. He must be a friend of Maroney's in disguise. I
left Madam Imbert and the rest of the party at the Merchants' and
proceeded to the Adams Express Office, where I met the Vice-President. I
informed him of Rivers's arrest, and my fears that Maroney had
checkmated me. The Vice-President said that he thought he could entirely
remove my fears; that De Forest had come in from Jenkintown with Mrs.
Maroney, and had reported to him. He stated that he had fixed a fellow
nicely. A fellow had been loafing around Jenkintown for three or four
weeks. De Forest had observed him just before starting for the city, and
when he reached the suburbs discovered him dogging his movements
wherever he went. He drove to Mitchell's, and came over to report, and
the impudent fellow still kept on his track. He thereupon went to the
city detective's headquarters. The employés of the Adams Express were
well known, so that he had no difficulty in getting a detective, and,
walking out with him, he pointed out the man, and said he would like to
have him arrested, as he had been following him all the morning. The
detective kept watch of the man for over an hour, and then, finding that
he continued to loaf around, arrested him on the charge of vagrancy and
took him to the office, where he had him locked up until he could prefer
charges against him.
As may be easily imagined, I felt greatly relieved when I heard this.
The ridiculousness of the whole transaction crossed my mind, and as the
Vice-President equally appreciated the joke with me, it was some time
before we could control our risibles sufficiently to make arrangements
for the release of Rivers. I asked the Vice-President if he knew some
lawyer whom he could get to volunteer his services in behalf of Rivers.
He suggested one, and soon afterward a lawyer called at the detective's
office and demanded the charge on which Rivers was held. He found that
it was only a nominal one, and effected his release without any one's
being the wiser as to his business.
When De Forest returned to Jenkintown that evening, he was greatly
surprised to find Rivers there, as large as life, and drinking with his
friend Cox as if nothing had happened. De Forest could not tell how he
got out, but supposed he must have been let off on paying a fine; all he
knew was that the dirty loafer had completely spoiled his pleasure.
We will now leave Jenkintown for a time, and return to Montgomery.
_CHAPTER XIV._
Maroney passed the time very pleasantly. Mr. Floyd, of the Exchange, was
on friendly terms with him, notwithstanding the little difficulty they
had had in regard to Mrs. Maroney. He had no business to attend to and
passed a good deal of time in the office of the hotel, talking with
Porter and furnishing him with an abundant supply of good cigars.
Porter was a thoroughly good fellow, and had an inexhaustible fund of
stories and anecdotes, some of them rather "smutty," but they were just
the sort that suited Maroney, so that they had become the thickest of
friends. Sometimes Maroney would take a hand in a social game of euchre
at Patterson's, at other times he would take Porter or May out for a
drive behind "Yankee Mary," and as they drove along expatiate on her
many good qualities.
He seldom went into the express office, as, although he knew the
employés well, he felt that when he called they kept a sharp lookout on
his movements, and he did not appreciate such courtesy. He would
occasionally go into the express car to see the messenger, and it was
noticed that he always looked at the money pouch, though at the time
nothing special was thought of it.
He seemed never to tire of relating the incidents of his journey, and
would raise a hearty laugh by the manner in which he would describe his
adventures at Natchez, on the hill, or of his visit to the amphitheatre
of his friends, Spaulding & Rogers, in New Orleans. He was, to all
appearances, the happiest man in town. He often talked over with Porter,
his plans for the future, saying that, after his trial, he intended to
go into the livery stable business, and wanted Porter to become his
clerk. There was very little talk about the robbery in Montgomery, and
when any one would mention it to Maroney, he would say, "You will see
how it will end by-and-by," and always intimated that he would sue the
company for heavy damages after his vindication by trial. Very little
was said about Mrs. Maroney. She had few friends, indeed, yet these few
seemed to have warm feelings towards her; most of the ladies seemed
pleased that she had gone, leaving Maroney still with them.
Maroney passed a good deal of time in his lawyer's office and seemed to
be making elaborate preparations for his trial. He would often walk out
on the plank road towards the plantations, and Porter, by great
exertions, found that he was attracted by a lovely girl who lived some
three miles from the city. He never came into town with her; it would
have been considered improper for her to receive the attentions of a
married man, and a scandal would have been the inevitable result. There
appeared to be nothing wrong between them, and Porter became convinced
that it was a genuine love affair. The girl must have known she was
doing wrong in permitting attentions from a married man; but Maroney was
most enticing when he wished to be, and in this case loved the girl with
what he thought a pure love, and easily overcame any scruple she might
have in this regard. He was very friendly with Gus McGibony, the
Montgomery detective, and was always willing to do him a favor.
McGibony being the only _known_ detective at Montgomery, was considered
a big man in his way. Maroney always treated him as such, played cards
with him and called him up to take a drink when he treated. Gus always
spoke in the highest terms of Maroney, and had evidently taken sides in
the case, for, when he was asked his opinion in regard to the robbery,
he would say that Maroney was bound to win. In this opinion he was
supported by the whole community.
Porter would sometimes talk over the case with Watts, Judd & Jackson,
the legal advisers of the company. They were firmly of the opinion that
Maroney had committed the robbery, yet still they must say that there
was no proof by which he could be convicted when the case was brought
for trial.
Roch was having an easy time of it, for as long as Maroney remained in
Montgomery he had nothing to do but smoke his pipe and drink lager. He
was taking a good rest after his arduous labors "shadowing" Maroney on
his lengthy tour. At least the duties would have been arduous to any one
but Roch, who, however, rather enjoyed them, and longed to prepare for
another chase.
I knew that something decisive must soon be done, as the time set for
Maroney's trial was rapidly approaching. We--the Adams Express and
I--must move something.
Maroney was evidently preparing for his defense, and all was resting
quietly. As the reader well knows I had a sharp watch set on the
operations at Jenkintown and on all that occurred in Montgomery.
On the first of May, Maroney announced his intention of going North on a
visit. He was with Porter at Patterson's at the time and seemed to have
suddenly formed the resolution. He said he had consulted with his
counsel and they had informed him that he might as well go if he wished,
as there was nothing to detain him. He desired to see his wife and a few
friends, and so had determined to make a short visit to the North. His
old trunk, up in the garret of the hotel, amongst the unclaimed baggage,
was never looked at.
Every one knew it was Maroney's, and even the colored porter, who
sometimes went up into the garret with Porter, to look up some article
that had been sent for, would say: "Dat's Massa 'Roney's trunk."
The day before Maroney started for the North he packed up everything he
needed for his journey in his large trunk, and then said to Porter, who
was assisting him: "Let's go up to my old trunk, I still have some
cigars in it, and I think it would be well to get some of them to smoke
on my journey."
Porter sent for Tom, and they all three went into the garret. Tom
unbound the trunk; Maroney took out some cigars and articles of wearing
apparel, and, having it tied up again, returned to his room. No further
notice was taken of the trunk by any one.
To place me on my guard, Porter immediately telegraphed me, in cipher,
of this intended move. The dispatch reached me in Chicago, and was
indeed news to me. What he intended to do in the North I could not
tell. I thought myself nearly blind in trying to solve the reasons of
his movement, and in arranging plans for his reception in the North.
What could we do? I was not a lawyer, but understood a good deal of the
law, and felt that now was the time to work something in our favor. I
soon made up my mind what course to pursue, and started the next day for
Philadelphia, to lay my plans before the Vice-President personally;
telegraphing Porter to get Roch ready to shadow Maroney. He was to
retain his Dutch disguise, as it had done good service before, and had
not been "spotted."
I arrived safely in Philadelphia, and found that I had not much preceded
Maroney.
On the second of May, Maroney, having everything in readiness for his
departure, went to the depot, accompanied by a great many friends, and
took the train for the North. Roch had reached the depot before him, and
had bought a through second-class ticket to Philadelphia, _via_
Baltimore. Nothing of any consequence took place until they reached
Baltimore. Maroney came through the cars only twice, seeming to be
confident that he was not followed. He took an occasional walk to
stretch his legs, but kept quietly to himself the whole of the journey.
At Baltimore Roch was met by Bangs and Green, who relieved him from duty
when they got the "spot" on Maroney. They found Roch pretty well
exhausted, as he had not slept on the journey, and had been obliged to
sit in a very cramped position.
On getting into Philadelphia, Maroney went to the Washington House,
while Roch went to the Merchants' Hotel, where he immediately retired,
and had a good long sleep.
At Jenkintown all went quietly. Mrs. Maroney was well loved by De
Forest, well "shadowed" by Rivers and Green, and greatly benefited by
the pure society of Madam Imbert. She said to Madam Imbert, a few days
before the arrival of Maroney: "I am happy to state that my husband will
be with me in a few days. I am _so_ delighted at the prospect of meeting
him once more, as he has been separated from me a great deal. We shall
have a splendid time in Philadelphia and New York; perhaps spend the
summer in Jenkintown, and then go South, _via_ Cincinnati and
Louisville; passing through Kentucky and Tennessee, into Alabama, and
stopping at all the cities on the way."
On the fifth of May she packed up her trunks, and Flora and she were
driven to the Jenkintown station. De Forest offered to take them into
the city in his buggy, but the offer was declined, with thanks, and they
left for Philadelphia without escort.
At Philadelphia she called a carriage, and, with Flora, was driven to
the Washington House. In a short time Maroney arrived, entered his name
on the register, and was shown to his wife's room, and the two after an
eventful separation, were thus once more united.
Having no need of Rivers's services at Jenkintown, he was called to
Philadelphia, to "shadow" the parties there. Madam Imbert and Miss
Johnson of course remained.
On the sixth of May, Maroney mailed a letter, which the "shadow"
discovered was directed to "William M. Carter, Locksmith, William st.,
N. Y." A note was taken of this, and as soon as possible Bangs left for
New York, to interview Mr. Carter. He found that Carter was one of the
best locksmiths in the city, and inclined to be a good fellow.
Bangs, representing the New York office of the Adams Express, gave him
some jobs, making keys, etc.; and finally brought him a key to the lock
of the pouch used by the company, and asked him to make two just like
it.
Carter said he could make them, and after examining the key for some
time, said: "But stop a little; a friend of mine, now in Philadelphia,
sent me a draft of a key he wanted made, and it is almost exactly like
this!" Producing the draft, he exclaimed, "it is exactly the same!" He
handed it to Bangs, who found it a finely executed drawing of the pouch
key, made by Maroney. Bangs paid no attention to this circumstance, but
Carter said he would not make the key, as he did not know to what use it
might be put. He would return the draft to his friend and say he could
not make it. Bangs managed to get a copy of the draft before it was
returned.
On discovering this, I saw through Maroney's plan at once; he wished to
have a key made similar to the pouch key, and introduce it as evidence
in his trial that others than the agents might have keys to the
Company's pouches. Two days before Maroney met his wife in Philadelphia,
I held a consultation with the Vice-President and Bangs in the office of
the Express Co. I maintained that it was the Company's duty to arrest
Maroney. They had a right to bring suit against an agent of theirs
wherever found. I urged him to lay the matter before the Company's
counsel in Philadelphia. If we could get him in prison here all would be
well, and the expense and trouble of following him from place to place
would be entirely avoided. It was our duty to keep him in jail, where I
could introduce a detective, disguised as a fellow-prisoner, whose duty
would be to get into his confidence and finally draw from him his secret
and learn his plans for the future. I presented my ideas so clearly that
the Vice President was convinced that the plan was a good one, and he at
once saw St. George Tucker Campbell, the eminent lawyer, laid the whole
case before him and asked his opinion. They looked the whole case over,
and he admitted that my plan was a good one. He said we might be able to
hold Maroney for a short time, but he really did not think we could long
do so. He might be able to fight it out for three or four weeks, but by
that time Maroney would be sure to effect his release. He would be so
excited over his daily expectation of effecting his release that it
would be impossible for me to make a proper effort to mould his mind to
my purpose. He produced sufficient evidence to prove to me that it would
be bad policy to try my plan in Philadelphia. This was a crushing blow,
and I felt as if a load had been placed upon my breast. Mr. Campbell
left me one ray of hope by stating that he was not fully posted in the
laws of the State of New York, and that I might be enabled to carry out
my purpose there. Leaving Bangs in charge at Philadelphia, the
Vice-President and I started for New York. We had a meeting with the
President and other officers of the Company, and determined to lay the
matter before Clarence A. Seward, the Company's counsellor in New York.
He had just been engaged by the Company, as I had been, and so far had
attended only to some small matters for them. The Vice-President
notified him to meet us at the Astor House, where the case was laid
before him. After looking up the points of law involved, he decided that
we could hold Maroney in New York. We then instructed him to get the
papers in readiness, so that the moment Maroney stepped into New York he
should be arrested. How happy did I now feel! All care was gone, the
weight of sorrow had been lifted from my breast as if by the hand of
magic: hope had taken the place of despair, and I returned to
Philadelphia with renewed energy and firmness, bound to win beyond a
peradventure.
I now assigned to Green the duty of shadowing Mrs. Maroney, and to
Rivers the duty of shadowing Maroney. I gave them strict orders to keep
separate, and to make a move only when the persons they were shadowing
moved. After Maroney had washed himself and removed his travel-soiled
garments, he had a long confidential talk with his wife, played with and
caressed Flora, and then walked out with them on Chestnut street. They
proceeded as far as Eighth, apparently amusing themselves by looking
into the shop windows, and then returned and did not leave the hotel
during the evening, passing the time in their rooms. At eleven they
retired, thus allowing their "shadows," Green and Rivers to retire also.
_CHAPTER XV._
Saturday, the seventh of May, was a busy one for my operatives. Maroney
left the hotel, followed by Rivers, walked around, visited different
stores, and finally stopped at the corner of Vine and Third streets. In
five or ten minutes, who should come along and meet him but Mrs.
Maroney, shadowed by Green? It seemed strange to Rivers that they should
have taken this roundabout way of meeting, and he could not understand
the reason for it. When Mrs. Maroney came up, Maroney took her arm, and
together they walked to the office of Alderman G. W. Williams. They
remained in the office some fifteen minutes, and on coming out went
directly to the Washington House. In a few minutes they again appeared,
accompanied by Flora, and getting into a carriage were driven to the
ferry, crossed over to Camden, and took the train for New York.
Rivers, who was the fastest runner, started on a keen run for the Adams
Express Office and reported to me that the Maroney family were under way
for New York. Bangs was in New York, so I telegraphed to him, informing
him of their departure for that city. He immediately found Mr. Seward
and had everything in readiness to give them a warm reception.
But what had they been doing at Alderman Williams's? It was better to
find out at once. I supposed he had been executing some deed. I
consulted with the Vice-President about the person most likely to
procure the desired information from Alderman Williams. After due
consideration, we decided that Mr. Franklin, head of the city
detectives, was the best man for the purpose. Franklin had always been
square and honest in all his dealings, but I determined not to put too
much confidence in him. I am always suspicious of men until I know them
thoroughly, or have them employed in my establishment; I therefore
instructed Rivers to watch Alderman Williams, and learn all that he
could.
The Vice-President sent for Franklin, and employed him to find out what
had transpired at the Alderman's. Franklin was a genial man, a good
talker, and devoted to his duty. He proved himself to be the best man we
could have procured for our purpose. He was well acquainted with
Alderman Williams, and strolled along past his office. The Alderman was
seated with his feet cocked up on the window-sill, smoking a cigar, and,
not having much to do, hailed Franklin as he went by, asking him to come
in. Franklin accepted the invitation, and lighting a cigar which the
Alderman handed him, took a seat.
The Alderman had witnessed an amusing scene, and, knowing Franklin's
fondness for a good story, related it to him. Franklin thought the story
a good one, laughed heartily at it, and then told one or two of his own.
He finally turned to the Alderman, and said; "I say, Williams, this is
rather dry work. What do you say to going down to the restaurant with
me, and having some oysters and a bottle of champagne to wash them
down?"
Williams, like most Aldermen, was fond of the good things of this earth,
and accepted the proposition without waiting for a second asking. He
locked up his office, and they went down to the restaurant. Franklin
gave his orders, and the delicious bivalves were soon smoking before
them. He called for champagne, and under its exhilarating influence grew
wittier and wittier, and kept the Alderman in such roars of laughter
that he could scarcely swallow his oysters. At length Franklin told a
story of a man by the name of Maroney, who had come to the city, and
getting into rather questionable company, had been fleeced of quite a
large amount of money. He had sought Franklin's aid in ferreting out the
thieves, but finding it would be necessary to disclose his name and the
circumstances in which he was robbed, and that the facts would find
their way into the daily papers, he concluded to bear the loss and say
no more about it.
[Illustration: "Franklin gave his orders and the delicious bivalves were
soon smoking before them. He called for champagne, and under its
exhilarating influence grew wittier and wittier, and kept the alderman
in such roars of laughter that he could scarcely swallow his
oysters."--Page 125.]
As he finished this little story the Alderman laughed heartily, and
remarked: "I'll bet five dollars it is the same man."
"Why, what do you mean?" inquired Franklin.
"Well, a man named Nathan Maroney came to my office yesterday with a
wealthy widow, Mrs. Irvin, and I married them. I got a good big fee,
too, and I'll bet five dollars he is the same man that called on you. Of
course he would not want it known that he frequented such places just as
he was going to be married, and so did not prosecute. Don't you see?"
They both laughed heartily, and Franklin, having learned all he wanted
to, soon took his departure. He reported to the Vice-President that
Maroney had been married the day before, and the Vice-President
immediately communicated the news to me.
I hurriedly thought the matter over. I had all the points on Mrs.
Maroney that I wanted. I could see that there was some cogent reason for
Maroney's marrying Mrs. Irvin. He wanted to place her where she would
tell no stories. There were only two ways to do this. Maroney, the
thief, had either to murder his mistress, or to make her his wife. I
could see plainly through the whole transaction. Maroney, after
committing the robbery, had, in exact accordance with my theory, found
that he needed some one in whom he could confide, and with whom he could
ease his overburdened mind by disclosing the facts of the robbery. Who
could be a safer person than his mistress? Her interests were identical
with his; he had gained her the entrée to good society; had taken her
from a house of infamy, where she was shunned and scorned, and by
allowing her the use of his name, had placed her in a position to
_demand_ respect.
In all things she seemed devoted to his interests, and so far as he
knew, her conduct while with him had been beyond reproach. What could be
more natural than his selecting her and pouring into her ear the details
of his crime?
How well it must have made him feel to find in her not a stern moralist
who would turn from him with scorn and point to the heinousness of his
crime, but a sweet enthusiast, with ideas moulded to suit his, who
would encourage and renew his feelings of ultimate success and almost
rob crime of its horrors!
What a happy moment it must have been to her to hear Maroney give vent
to his pent-up feelings! How she must have looked forward with delight
to the coming time when Maroney, rich with his ill-gotten spoils, should
place her in a position _far_ above what she had ever anticipated
reaching! How her eyes must have flashed as she thought how she could
then return with redoubled force the scorn that had been shown to her!
She had only one more step to take and then her life of shame would be
completely covered up: Maroney _must_ marry her!!
She now had him in her power; she would be true to him if he would be to
her; but if he _refused_ her request to make her an honest woman in the
eyes of the world, woe be to him!!
"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."
She did not at once force the matter on Maroney, but waited until she
reached the North, and then gradually unfolded to him the necessity of
his marrying her. It was a bitter pill for him to swallow, but unless he
chose to add murder to his other crimes, was his only means of safety.
The necessity was rendered all the more distasteful by the fact that he
was now really in love with a girl who possessed all the qualifications
which render the sex so dear to man. He had formed a plan to get rid of
his mistress, Mrs. Irvin, as soon as possible after his trial, and then
to marry the girl he loved, but he was doomed to disappointment. As he
had not the courage to kill Mrs. Irvin, he had been forced North to
marry her. He therefore was determined to kill two birds with one stone,
and while North have some keys made to fit the company's pouch.
I sat for some hours in the office of the General Superintendent,
cogitating over the matter, and finally concluded to have the notice of
the marriage published. I wrote out the notice in the usual form and
sent it to the _Philadelphia Press_. It read:
"MARRIED.
"MARONEY--IRVIN--At Philadelphia, on May 7th, 1859, by Alderman G.
W. Williams, Nathan Maroney, of Montgomery, Ala., to Mrs. Irvin, of
Jenkintown, Penn.
"Montgomery papers please copy."
I sent copies of the _Press_ containing this notice to all the
Montgomery papers, enclosing the usual one dollar note to pay for its
insertion in their columns, and in a few days the news was blazoned
forth in Montgomery. But I had not finished with it yet. I got the names
of all the ladies with whom Maroney was acquainted in Montgomery and the
surrounding country, also of all his male friends, and, buying a large
number of the _Press_ containing this notice, I had copies directed to
these persons; and also to his friends in Atlanta, Chattanooga,
Nashville, Memphis, Natchez, New Orleans and Mobile, not forgetting the
_highly respectable_ ladies at the pleasant house at Chattanooga, or at
Natchez, on the hill. These papers I sent to Porter by express,
directing him to mail them. Wherever I could learn of any of Maroney's
friends, I furnished them with copies of the _Press_. They must have
thought some one very kind to take so much interest in him, or more
likely thought he had sent them himself. I knew I was making capital for
the company by having the notice so fully circulated in Montgomery. The
inhabitants were amazed when they saw it, and terribly indignant at
Maroney's conduct.
While it was true that Maroney and his wife had never mingled much in
society in Montgomery, still he had brought a woman there and openly
lived with her as his wife, who had not only led a life of infamy prior
to her meeting with Maroney, but who, even then, was but his mistress.
It was an outrage upon decency, and as such was felt and resented. From
Maroney's personal popularity and agreeable manners, there were many who
believed in his innocence, still more who did not desire his conviction.
His marriage thinned the ranks of the latter and entirely wiped out
almost every trace of the former. The man who would live with and
introduce a prostitute as his wife, was regarded as never too good to be
guilty of robbery or any other crime.
The sympathy which had been felt and expressed for Maroney by those who
regarded him as fighting single-handed against a wealthy and powerful
corporation, was now regarded as having been worse than thrown away. It
was at once and permanently withdrawn. My move had proved a perfect
success and I now felt much easier about the result of the final trial
to be held in Montgomery.
We left Maroney, his wife and Flora on the cars, bound for New York, to
enjoy their honey-moon. They were shadowed by Green, and he noticed
that Mrs. Maroney appeared supremely happy. She had accomplished her
purpose; she was now a legally married woman. Maroney was in good
spirits, but must have had a hard battle to keep them up. He was now
enjoying some of the sweets of crime, being forced to leave the girl he
loved and marry a common prostitute. He had sold his freedom for gold,
and although outwardly he appeared calm and happy, inwardly he was
racked with contending emotions. What would he now not have given to be
back in his old position, free from the taint of crime, free to do as he
wished? But the fatal step had been taken; he could not retrace it, he
must go on, and when he won, as he now felt sure he would, could he not
find some quiet way to get rid of his wife? They were rapidly nearing
Jersey City, and when they reached there Mrs. Maroney grasped Maroney's
arm, and taking Flora by the hand, walked aboard the ferry-boat. No
newly-married bride ever felt more exultant than she. She glanced with
scorn at the hurrying crowd, and as they roughly jostled her, felt
contaminated by the touch. They little dreamed of the reception that
awaited them in New York. The news of their marriage had been flashed
over the wires to Bangs, and he had made all preparations to give them a
warm reception. Bangs had called for Mr. Seward, and he having all the
papers ready, drove to the Marshal's office. Seward was a great favorite
with every one, and had no trouble in getting United States Marshal
Keefe and a deputy to accompany him. They were all engaged when he
called, but readily postponed their other business to attend to him.
They, with Bangs, proceeded to the ferry and crossed over to Jersey
City, to meet the train coming from Philadelphia.
When Maroney and his wife stepped on the ferry boat they did not notice
the consultation of Green, Bangs and Marshal Keefe. When the boat
touched the wharf in New York, all was hurry and bustle. Maroney, with
his wife and Flora, stood one side for a few moments, waiting for the
crush to be over, and then stepped proudly out for the wharf. He had
taken scarcely three steps on the soil of New York before he was
confronted by Marshal Keefe.
"You are my prisoner!" said he. "Nathan Maroney, I demand that you
immediately deliver to me fifty thousand dollars, the property of the
Adams Express, which you feloniously have in your possession."
[Illustration: "_You are my prisoner!" said he. "Nathan Maroney, I
demand that you immediately deliver to me fifty thousand dollars, the
property of the Adams Express Company._"--Page 131.]
If a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet he could not have been more
astonished. The demand of the Marshal, delivered in a loud, harsh tone,
and coming so unexpectedly, completely unnerved him, and for a moment he
shook like a leaf. His head swam around, and he felt as though he would
drop to the ground. By a desperate effort he gained control of himself.
His wife hung speechless on his arm, while little Flora grasped her
mother's dress, and gazed with a startled, frightened look at the
Marshal and the rapidly gathering crowd.
"I have no money belonging to the Express Company!" said Maroney, and
supposing that that was all that was wanted with him, he attempted to
force himself past the Marshal.
"Not so fast!" exclaimed the Marshal, taking hold of one of Maroney's
arms, while his deputy stepped forward to assist him, if Maroney made
any resistance. "Not so fast, you must come with me!"
Maroney could scarcely realize his situation; it was to him a horrid
dream. In a few moments he would awake and laugh at it. But the jeering
crowd, the stern officers of the law, his weeping wife and her
frightened child, formed a scene which was indelibly stamped on his
memory never to be obliterated. His wife insisted that her husband
should be allowed to accompany her to the Astor House, and the Marshal
finally consented. At the Astor House he saw his wife and Flora in their
room, in the presence of Marshal Keefe, his deputy, and Bangs. No words
passed between them. His new-made bride of only six hours was bathed in
tears--what a honey-moon! Maroney was almost in tears himself, but he
choked them back. He kissed his wife and Flora, and motioning to the
officers that he was ready, followed them to Eldridge street jail.
How terribly must he have felt when the heavy door of his cell was
bolted upon him, and he was left in solitude to brood over his position.
How he must have cursed the moment when he married Mrs. Irvin. He did so
merely to save himself, and now he was in prison! What would he not have
given to undo what only six hours before he had been so anxious to
consummate! What a blow it would have been to him if he could have known
the efforts I was then making to disseminate through the South the news
of his marriage; but this I did not intend he should know. Mrs. Maroney
thought that Maroney would soon be out of jail, but wondered why he had
been arrested in New York. She concluded that the Company had
determined on the plan of suddenly confronting him and charging him with
the crime, hoping that if guilty he would break down and make a
confession. He had passed through the trying ordeal unscathed and most
likely would be liberated in the morning. She little thought they had
been separated never more to be united.
_CHAPTER XVI._
Mr. Seward had done his work well. I had little fear that Maroney would
get out, as his bail was fixed at one hundred thousand dollars--double
the amount of the robbery.
The question now arose: What shall we do with Maroney? I held a
consultation with the Vice-President, Seward, and Bangs, and suggested
the propriety of placing one of my detectives, named White, in jail with
him. White was in Chicago, but I could send for him and have him in
readiness for the work in a few days. White was a shrewd, smart man to
act under orders, and nothing more was required. I proposed that he be
introduced to to the jail in the following way: He was to assume the
character of a St. Louis pork-packer. It was to be charged against him
that he had been dealing largely in hogs in the West, had come to New
York with a quantity of packed pork of his own to sell; and also had had
a lot consigned to him to sell on commission; he had disposed of all the
pork, pocketed all the proceeds, and then disappeared, intending to
leave for Europe, but had been discovered and arrested. The amount
involved in the case should be about thirty-seven thousand dollars. It
was part of my plan to introduce a young man, who should pretend to be a
nephew of White's, and who should call on him and do his outside
business. I had a good man for this work, in the person of Mr. Shanks.
His duties would be to call at the jail daily, see his uncle White,
carry his letters, go to his lawyers, run all his errands, etc.
White was not to force his acquaintance on Maroney, or any of the
prisoners, but to hold himself aloof from them all. He was to pass a
good deal of time in writing letters, hold hurried consultations with
his nephew and send him off with them. Shanks was to be obliging, and if
any of the prisoners requested him to do them favors, he was to
willingly consent.
Very few people outside of a prison know how necessary it is to have a
friend who will call on prisoners and do little outside favors for them.
No matter how popular a man may be, or how many true friends he thinks
he has, he will find if he is thrust into prison, that all of them will
very likely desert him, and he will then keenly feel the necessity of
having some one even to run his errands. If he has no friend to act for
him, he will have to pay dearly for every move he makes. A man like
Shanks would soon be popular with the prisoners, and have his hands full
of commissions.
There were a good many objections made to my plan, but with Mr. Seward's
assistance, all its weak points were cleared away, and it was made
invulnerable.
I telegraphed, ordering White and Shanks to come on to New York, and,
leaving Bangs in charge there, I started in a few days for Philadelphia.
Green was still employed in "shadowing" Mrs. Maroney, and kept a close
watch on her movements. On the morning after Maroney's arrest she
visited him in the Eldridge street jail, leaving Flora in the Astor
House. They had a long, private interview, after which she enquired of
the Marshal the amount of bail necessary to effect her husband's
release. He informed her that the bail had been fixed at one hundred
thousand dollars. She seemed surprised at the large amount, returned and
conversed with Maroney, then left the jail, and getting into a carriage,
was driven to Thirty-first street. Green hailed a passing cab and
followed at his ease. When she stopped, he had his hackman drive on a
few blocks and turn down a cross street, where he stopped him. He told
the driver to await his return, and getting out of the hack, walked
slowly down the street, keeping a sharp lookout on the house she went
into. Mrs. Maroney remained in the house about half an hour, and then
came out and was driven to Pearl street. Here she went into a large
building occupied by an extensive wholesale clothing establishment,
remained some time, and then came out with a gentleman who accompanied
her to the Eldridge street jail. Green remained in his carriage. Mrs.
Maroney and the gentleman soon came out; he bade her good-bye, and she
drove to several business-houses in the city.
Maroney received several calls during the day; he was very irritable,
and seemed much depressed in spirits.
Mrs. Maroney returned to the Astor House at dark, weary, depressed, and
despondent.
Green reported to Bangs that it was easy to read what she had
accomplished. Maroney had a number of friends in New York, and she had
been to see if they would not go on his bail-bond. They had all refused,
some giving one excuse, some another, and the desired bail _could not
be procured_.
For the purpose of finding his prospects, I had some of his friends
interviewed, and managed to learn that the friend on whom Maroney
principally relied to furnish bail, was one whom he had met in the South
when he was a drummer, but who had now become a partner in the house.
Mrs. Maroney called on him; he expressed great sympathy for Maroney and
her, but could not go on his bond, as the articles of association of the
firm forbade any of the partners signing bonds, etc. In two days it was
discovered that Maroney had no prospects of getting the required bail.
Some of his friends, whom he importuned to assist him, called at the
express office to find the reasons for his incarceration. They were
generally met by the President or by the General Superintendent and
informed that Maroney had robbed the company of ten thousand dollars at
one time and forty thousand dollars at another, and it was for this that
he was now in prison. The gentlemen saw at once the risk they would run
in going his bail and concluded not to venture.
I was convinced that if the public knew he had stolen fifty thousand
dollars and that the company were bound to prosecute him, he could not
procure bail, and so it turned out.
Mrs. Maroney called at the jail several times and did everything in her
power to procure bail, but finally gave up in despair. She had a long
interview with Maroney, then drove to the Astor House, paid her bill,
and, getting into a carriage with Flora, went to Jersey City and took
the train for Philadelphia.
I had sent Roch to New York to "shadow" her and had brought Rivers to
Philadelphia with me, as no shadow was needed for Maroney. When Mrs.
Maroney left New York, Green turned her over to Roch and he accompanied
her to Philadelphia. I had been informed of her departure and had Rivers
ready to meet her in Camden on her arrival.
She arrived safely. Rivers relieved Roch and he reported to me. I
supposed she would remain for the night in Philadelphia, but was
disappointed, as she went directly to the North Pennsylvania station and
took the cars for Jenkintown.
I was not quite prepared for this move, but by four in the morning I was
in a buggy on my road to Jenkintown. When I arrived I put up at
Stemples's, had an early breakfast, and seized upon a favorable
opportunity to have a short conversation with Madam Imbert. I hurriedly
instructed her to try and meet Mrs. Maroney, and if possible draw from
her an account of what had happened and learn her plans for the future.
I then got into my buggy and drove back to the city. It was a beautiful,
bright morning, and the drive was very delightful.
Madam Imbert, accompanied by Miss Johnson, went for her accustomed
stroll in the garden. They walked around for some time and were about
returning when they met Mrs. Maroney and Flora. Miss Johnson took charge
of Flora, who was her special favorite, and drew her to one side to have
a romp while Mrs. Maroney and the Madam strolled along together.
Mrs. Maroney asked very anxiously about the Madam's health and seemed
to be much pained when she learned that she was very poorly.
"Mrs. Maroney," said Madam Imbert, "I fear you find me poor company,
indeed. Your life must be happy beyond expression. You have a kind
husband, a sweet child, everything that makes life enjoyable! while I am
separated from my dear husband, far away, with no one to love me! no one
to care for me! I have bitter trouble, rendered all the harder to bear
by the fact that I have to brood over it alone. I have not one friend in
this wide world to whom I can fly for consolation. No! not one! My life
is unspeakably lonely. You will forgive me for not being more gay; I
cannot help it! I strive to be, but it is impossible. I often fear that
my
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