A Plan to Intercept Correspondence—Edwards Fully Identified—A pretty Servant Girl and a Visit to Church.
While these events were transpiring at Woodford, William had not been idle in the city. A constant watch had been maintained upon the several premises occupied by the relatives of Newton Edwards, in the hope of detecting some attempt upon their part to communicate with the suspected thief. This at all times is rather a difficult object to achieve, but we have frequently been obliged to resort to this mode of acquiring information from lack of definite knowledge on which to base intelligent action. In order that one of the many of these expedients may be fully understood, a few words in detail may not be out of place. As is well known, the mail of an individual is sosacredly guarded by the laws of the country which govern the postal service, that an attempt to interfere with the letters of another is regarded as a felony and punished with severity. Of course, therefore, no efforts of ours would be directed to the obtaining or opening of any letters which might be mailed to the suspected individual. Our object was simply to obtain the addresses upon the envelopes, if possible, and then to search out the parties to whom they had been consigned. In this instance our manner of proceeding was quite simple, but it required that it should be managed with great care and without exciting the suspicion of any one. For this purpose each of the operatives, detailed for this duty, was provided with a number of envelopes of a peculiar size and color, and all addressed to fictitious persons. Our plan was, that if any one of Edward's relatives deposited a letter in any of the street boxes, the operative should be on hand and be prepared to drop his letter into the box immediately on the top of it. Another operative was then to await the visit ofthe postman on his round for collection, when he would step up to him and making a pretense of a mistake in the address of a letter which he had mailed, would from its position be enabled to obtain a glimpse of the suspected letters below, and their addresses.
This watch was maintained unceasingly for several days without result, and it appeared either that the family were unaware of Edwards' hiding-place, or else that they were fearful of being watched, and avoided communicating with him on that account.
In the meantime, William received another visit from Mr. Silby, the president of the despoiled bank, who stated very reluctantly, that he and Mr. Welton, the cashier, during the absence of Eugene Pearson from the bank, had attempted the feat of loosening the screws upon the lock of the vault, and had been unable to do so. They had exerted their strength to the utmost, and the screws had sturdily resisted their efforts. He was therefore compelled to admit that thus far the suspicions againstyoung Pearson appeared to be well founded, and that the screws had evidently been loosened before the prisoners were confined in the vault, in order to allow them to escape, should the atmosphere prove too oppressive for their safety. Mr. Silby also stated, that he had obtained an interview with a Mr. Crampton, the president of the bank at Independence, where it was learned that the parents of Newton Edwards resided, and that without divulging any of our plans regarding that young man, he had acquired considerable information concerning him. It was learned that Edwards had for some time been regarded as a very fast young man, and several episodes were related of him, in which he had figured in no very enviable light.
His parents were elderly people of eminent respectability, and were much distressed at the actions of their son, from whom they had expected so much. He had begun life with bright prospects, had entered into business with his own capital, but had failed after a short career,owing to his extravagant habits and his inattention to business. After this he had traveled for several firms, and while it was believed he received a large salary, there were many who shook their heads at the stories of his dissipation which reached their ears from time to time.
This was information which was of some value, and opened up the way to accomplish an object which William had long desired. He therefore requested Mr. Silby to introduce John Manning to Mr. Crampton, and directed Manning to accompany that gentleman to Independence, and by their joint efforts endeavor to obtain a photograph of Edwards. This was attended to at once, and in a few days, through the assistance of the sheriff at Independence, we were enabled to secure an admirable likeness of the absconding burglar, although the same had been taken nearly two years prior to this. A number of copies of this photograph were at once printed, and they were furnished to the various operatives who were at workupon the case. Hitherto we had been compelled to rely upon the rather unsatisfactory method of identifying him by description only, and in many cases, except where persons are trained to the work of accurately describing individuals whom they meet, there is danger of not being able to identify any one who has no very prominent distinguishing marks about him.
The first use to which this photograph was put was to exhibit it to Miss Patton, the young lady who had been assaulted in the bank, and she instantly recognized it as the picture of one of the men who had committed the robbery, and the one who had attacked Eugene Pearson, while the other intruder was engaged in the attempt to gag and bind her. This was very important, and no further efforts were now needed to establish the identity of Newton Edwards, or to connect him with the robbery as an active participant.
After several days of unproductive watchfulness at the city residences of Edwards'relatives, it became apparent that something more decisive would have to be attempted. From the reports of the operatives who had been detailed upon this part of the investigation, it seemed evident that the inmates had become suspicious of the fact that their movements were being made the subject of espionage, and it was resolved to adapt another system of operation, and endeavor to have one of my men enter the family, and by some means establish a friendly footing with its members. By this means he would be enabled, while unsuspected, to learn of the movements of the people whom he was watching.
I did not have far to seek for a man who would fully answer the purpose I had in view, and one who would succeed if success were possible. I had tried him in several operations where this kind of work was necessary, and he had invariably accomplished what had been delegated to him to perform. I therefore called Harry Vinton into my office, and stated to him the nature of the mission uponwhich he was to be sent. He was a handsome, jolly, quick-witted and intelligent young fellow, who had been with me for a long time. Entering my employment as an office boy, and evincing a decided task and talent for the profession of a detective, he had continued in my service, until at this time he was quite an adept in his particular line, and many a successful operation had been largely due to his intelligent efforts, while far removed from the directing eye of myself or my superintending assistants. His manners were frank and easy, and among the ladies he was a general favorite, therefore, I concluded to intrust him with the task of obtaining admission into the residence of the sister of Edwards, on Logan Place.
Our operatives had reported that at this house there was employed, in the capacity of domestic, a young and handsome girl, whose conduct as far as could be judged was exemplary in the highest degree, and informing Vinton of this fact, William inquired if he thought he could manage it successfully.
A merry twinkle shone in Vinton's eyes for a moment and then he answered:
"I think I can, sir; and I am willing to make the attempt."
"Very well," replied William, laughing. "Only look out for yourself. I hear she is a very charming young girl, and you may find yourself in earnest before you are aware of it."
"Perhaps I may," said Vinton, "and perhaps I might not do better than that if I tried."
"All right," said William; "I will not burden you with instructions at present, and you will proceed according to your own judgment, only remember what we want to discover, and succeed if you can."
With these words Vinton took his departure.
A few days passed uneventfully by and no report came from Vinton. He was evidently looking over the ground, and as undue haste would avail nothing in a matter of this kind William forbore to push him.
Vinton, however, had not been idle, and his inquiries had developed the fact that the youngservant of Mrs. Andrews was a regular attendant at church on Sunday afternoon, when she was allowed her liberty from her domestic duties.
The following Sunday, therefore, found him wending his way toward the church. The day was bright and balmy, and the streets were thronged with pedestrians all bedecked in their Sunday attire, and apparently enjoying to the full their day of rest.
Vinton reached the church, a magnificent structure, with its many spires glistening in the rays of the sun, and its chime of bells which were ringing out their harmonious cadences upon the air. He had been fortunate to find among his acquaintances a young man who also attended this church, and in his company he repaired to the sacred edifice, and joined in the services of the hour. When the last hymn had been sung and the congregation had been dismissed, Vinton and his companion hurried out to the sidewalk, where they could observe all who came out.
Soon the doors were filled with little groups of men and women, all exchanging friendly greetings, and indulging in pleasant gossip before seeking their homes, and to the intense delight of Vinton, he noticed among a company of young ladies, the face and form of Mary Crilly, the pretty servant of the sister of Newton Edwards.
Finding his gaze riveted upon this group, his companion lightly pulled him by the arm, exclaiming:
"What's the matter, Vinton. Has Mary Crilly captivated your senses?"
"I don't know who you allude to, but there is one of the prettiest girls I have seen for a long time."
"I know whoyoumean, though," said his companion laughingly, "and she is one of the nicest girls I know. Although she is simply a servant, she is both pretty, intelligent and industrious."
"Do you know her?" asked Vinton, both delighted and surprised.
"Certainly I do," answered his companion; "her name is Mary Crilly, and she is living with a family on Logan Place."
"Can't you introduce me?" inquired Vinton anxiously.
"Yes, if you want me to; that's my sister she is talking to now, they are fast friends, and Mary will probably spend the evening at our house. Come along, and perhaps you will lose your heart."
The apples had certainly fallen right into his lap, and fortune had favored him this time, if never before.
Stepping up with his friend, Vinton was soon made acquainted with the pretty young domestic, and in a short time afterward was walking by her side in the direction of his friend's house, where Mary was to spend the afternoon and evening.
Strange as it may appear, young Vinton, when not on duty, associated freely with his companions, not one of whom suspected thebusiness in which he was engaged. They only knew that he was employed in an office "down town," and that frequently he was required to be absent from the city for weeks. In a large city, however, there is not the same inclination to inquire about the private affairs of one's neighbors, and hence he had been able, for prudential reasons, to avoid announcing his real occupation, and was not compelled to make a social hermit of himself because of his profession.
Being pressed to remain at the house of his friend, Vinton cordially accepted the situation, and devoted himself to the fair Miss Crilly so assiduously that he soon was in high favor with that young lady. After an enjoyable afternoon, he had the pleasure of escorting Miss Crilly to her home, and when he left her at her door, he was gratified to receive an invitation to call again, which he joyfully accepted, and resolved to take advantage of at an early date.
Thus far we had been successful; we had obtained a photograph of Edwards, which hadbeen promptly recognized. We had learned from his wife that he was hiding in the state of New York; and we had reliable men carefully posted in such a manner that in a very short time definite information must assuredly be obtained.
Waiting and Watching—Two Letters—Newton Edwards' Hiding-Place Discovered.
Harry Vinton continued his attentions to the fair young domestic, and in a few days he invited her to accompany him to the theater. Edwards' sister, Mrs. Andrews, was present when this invitation was extended, and having formed a very favorable opinion of my good-looking operative, she at once consented, and Mary blushingly signified her inclination to accept his escort. His deportment toward Mrs. Andrews was most deferential and polite, and in a very short time he had quite won her kindly regard. This, of course, was precisely what he was most desirous of accomplishing, and he improved every opportunity that offered to ingratiate himself intothe good opinion of Mary's mistress. So agreeably and gentlemanly did he conduct himself that ere a week had elapsed he was quite graciously received, not only by the pretty young servant girl, but by the members of the family as well. Mrs. Andrews, who appeared to be a kind-hearted lady, although seemingly oppressed with some trouble, which was not made apparent, was deeply interested in Mary's welfare, and had taken especial pains to cultivate Vinton's acquaintance. This was done evidently with the view of satisfying herself as to the sincerity of his intentions toward the girl, and to advise with her in the event of her discovering that he was an unworthy suitor for her hand.
Vinton lost no opportunity to advance his friendly footing in the family, and frequently offered his services to Mrs. Andrews in the way of performing trifling commissions for her, which he could execute while on his way to and from his daily labor.
From Mary, Vinton learned that the familywere in much distress regarding a brother of Mrs. Andrews, but what it was she could not tell.
He also learned that this brother (who was none other than Newton Edwards), and his wife had resided with the family for some time, but that Mrs. Andrews was very unfriendly to the young woman, and scarcely treated her with the respect which was due to her brother's wife. The young lady was very unhappy, Mary said, and several times she had seen her weeping bitterly in her room. Thus matters continued until on one Saturday morning, but a short time previous to this, the brother came home intoxicated, and abused his wife in a dreadful manner, and after ordering her to return to her family, had left the house, and had not been seen since.
"What has become of the young lady?" inquired Vinton, after he had expressed his sympathy for her unfortunate condition.
"Oh, her brother came for her that very afternoon, and after expressing his mind prettyfreely to Mrs. Andrews, he took her to his home, somewhere away from the city."
"Did her husband go away, too?" asked Vinton.
"Yes, he went about the same time, and has not been here since."
"Do the people in the house know where he is?" inquired Vinton.
"I don't think they do," answered the girl, "and they are very much worried about him. There was a letter came from some one the other day, and ever since that time Mrs. Andrews has been in great trouble. She does not tell me anything about it, but I think it is about her brother."
"That's very strange, isn't it?"
"Yes, and what is more so," answered the girl, "for several days past there have been several men about the neighborhood who are strangers, and Mrs. Andrews is very much frightened about it. She is afraid to go out of the house, and seems almost afraid to move."
"Does she think they have anything to do with her?" asked Vinton, surprisedly.
"Oh, I don't know about that; but it is a very unusual thing to have strange men loitering about our neighborhood, and she feels very nervous about it."
Vinton expressed his profound sympathy for the unfortunate family, and without hinting any suspicion that anything of a criminal nature had occurred, he parted from the young lady and returned to his home.
A few evenings after this, Vinton again called upon Mary Crilly, and while he was conversing with her, Mrs. Andrews came into the room.
"Mr. Vinton," said she, "before you go, I want to give you a couple of letters to post for me, if it is not too much trouble."
"Certainly not," he replied, "anything I can do for you, Mrs. Andrews, will be cheerfully done by me, I assure you."
"Thanks," said the lady, "I will have themready before you leave, and would like to have them posted this evening."
"I will attend to it, madam," said Vinton respectfully.
After passing a pleasant hour with Mary, Mrs. Andrews returned, and handed Vinton two letters which he placed in his pocket without looking at the addresses, a proceeding which he noticed gave Mrs. Andrews some degree of pleasure. After a few moments' further talk he took his leave, and hastened to the agency. Here he was fortunate enough to find my son William, and he immediately produced the two letters and laid them upon the desk.
"I don't know whether there is anything in these or not," said he, "but I thought I had better let you see them."
William took up the two envelopes, and looked at their addresses. With a start of surprise, he read the superscriptions. One of them was addressed to "William Amos, McDonald, New York," and the other to"Newton Edwards, Denver, Colorado, care Windsor Hotel."
Here was a dilemma! Could it be possible that Newton Edwards, knowing that the detectives were upon his track, would continue to use his own proper name, and have letters addressed to him in that open manner? This was certainly a most foolhardy thing for a sensible man to do, who was seeking to evade the officers of justice. Was it not more reasonable to think that Mrs. Andrews, taking alarm at the possibility of the actions of herself and family being watched, and being fully aware of the crime her brother had committed, would be advised to direct her letter to him under an assumed name?
A glance at the inside of these neat little envelopes would have satisfied all doubts upon the question, but with a delicate regard for the privacy of individual correspondence, William would not have opened them for any consideration.
"This is very clever," said he; "but I amafraid Mrs. Andrews is not quite sharp enough for us this time. However, we will sleep upon the matter, and see what will turn up by to-morrow."
The next morning all doubts were set at rest. Mr. Warner, my son William and myself, were seated in my office discussing this question. We were unanimous in our opinion that the letter addressed to Newton Edwards was a decoy; and with Everman's information before us, that Edwards was hiding somewhere in New York state, which began with a "Mac," all of us were convinced that the second letter alone was deserving of serious attention.
While we were thus debating the question, the mail brought us a report from William Everman at Woodford, that settled all doubts. Mrs. Edwards, he stated, had been seen to mail a letter that evening, and after a serious effort, Everman had obtained a glance at the address. It was as follows:
William Amos,McDonald,New York.
"That settles it!" said I; "send at once to McDonald, and my word for it, Edwards will be found."
Whether I prophesied true or not, will soon be seen.
The Burglar Tracked to His Lair—The Old Stage Driver—A Fishing Party—A Long Wait—A Sorrowful Surprise—The Arrest of Newton Edwards.
Our plans were soon completed for a visit to the place indicated by the address upon the two letters. In the meantime, however, I had telegraphed to the police officials at Denver, and learned from them that no such person as Newton Edwards had been about that place, or was known there at all. They also promised that if any one called for a letter addressed to that name they would arrest him at once and inform us immediately.
McDonald, I soon learned, was a little village in the central part of New York, remotely situated, and with no railroad or telegraph facilities of any kind. An excellent hiding-placefor a fugitive certainly, particularly, as I suspected, if he had relatives residing there. Far away from the swift and powerful messengers of steam and electricity, he might safely repose in quiet seclusion until the excitement had died away and pursuit was abandoned. Such places as these afford a secure harbor for the stranded wrecks of humanity, and many a fleeing criminal has passed years of his life in quiet localities, where he was removed from the toil and bustle, and the prying eyes of the officers of the law in the more populous cities and towns.
Two men were selected for this journey, and their preparations were soon made. That evening they were flying over the ground in the direction of the little hamlet, where they were hopeful of finding the man they were seeking.
As an additional precaution, and fearing that Edwards might not remain in McDonald for any length of time, I telegraphed to my son, Robert A. Pinkerton, at New York city, to also repair, as soon as possible, to that place, and if Edwards was there to arrest him at once,and await the arrival of my operatives from Chicago.
Immediately upon the receipt of this message, Robert left New York city by the earliest train, and without event, arrived at the station nearest to the village of McDonald, which he learned was about twelve miles distant. Here he was obliged to take a stage coach, and after a long, hot and fatiguing journey of several hours, he arrived about nightfall at the sleepy little village, which was his point of destination. By making inquiries of the stage-driver in a careless manner, and without exciting any suspicion, he learned that there was a constable at that place, and on arriving, he immediately sought out this important official. From him Robert learned that there was a strange young man stopping with an old farmer about two miles out of the village, who had been there several days, and who was represented as a nephew to the old gentleman. Upon showing him the photograph of Edwards, he recognized it at once, and signified his readiness to renderany service in the matter which might be required of him. After disclosing as much as he deemed advisable to the constable, whose name was Daniel Bascom, Robert gladly accepted his hospitality for the night, and feeling very tired and weary after his hard journey, he retired to rest, and slept the sleep of the just, until he was awakened in the morning by his hospitable entertainer. Springing from his bed, and looking out at his window, he saw that the sun was just peeping over the hills in the east, and throwing its first faint rays over the beautiful landscape that was spread before him, lighting up hill and dale with the roseate but subdued splendor of its morning beams.
After partaking of a hearty breakfast, Robert and the village constable matured their plans of operation. As a well-dressed city young gentleman might occasion some curiosity in the village, and as young Edwards might take alarm at the unexpected appearance of a stranger in that retired locality, it was decided to make some change in Robert's apparel. Theconstable therefore very kindly offered him a suit of his clothing, which as the two men were nearly of the same size, and the articles slightly worn, answered the purpose admirably, and in a few moments Robert was transformed into a good-looking countryman, who was enjoying a short holiday after the labors of harvesting, which were now over.
In company with Mr. Bascom, the constable, Robert sauntered into the village. It was a beautiful morning; the air was delightfully fresh and cool, and the rays of the sun danced and glistened upon the dew-drops which sparkled upon every tree and flower. The feathered songsters filled the air with their sweet melodies, and nature with all its gladsome beauty was spread before him. Such a feeling of rest and thorough enjoyment came over him, that it was with an effort, he was able to shake off the pleasures of the hour, and bring himself to the disagreeable business in hand. After a short walk they approached the general store of the little village, which was the lounging-placeof all the farmers for miles around. When they arrived they found a motley gathering assembled to witness the great event of the day in this town, the departure of the stage-coach, and Robert was speedily introduced as a relative of Mr. Bascom, who had came to McDonald to spend a few days.
The mail coach was an important institution in McDonald, and was regarded as the great medium of communication between that place and the great world outside. Every morning at precisely the same hour the coach departed, and every evening with the same regard for punctuality the old time-worn vehicle rolled up before the platform in front of the store, to the intense delight and admiration of the assembled crowd.
For nearly forty years had this identical old coach performed this journey, and the same old driver had drawn the reins and cracked his whip over the flanks—I was about to say, of the same old horses. This, however, could not have been so, although the sleepy-looking, antiquated animals that were now attached to the lumberingold yellow coach, looked as if they might have done duty for fully that length of time.
Two young men were already seated in the stage, and their luggage was securely stowed away in the boot. The postmaster—the village storekeeper filled that responsible position—was busily engaged in making up the mail, and old Jerry, the fat good-natured old driver, was laughing and joking with the by-standers, as he awaited the hour for departure. As Robert stepped upon the platform he bestowed a hasty, though searching glance at the two men in the coach, and to his relief found that neither of them was the man he wanted, and he quietly stepped back and watched the proceedings that were going on around him.
The postmaster appeared at last, mail-sack in hand, which he consigned to Jerry's care, and that burly individual clambered up to his place as gracefully as his big body and exceedingly short legs would permit. Seating himself upon his box, he gathered up his reins and shouted a good-natured farewell to the crowd. A quick andvigorous application of the whip awakened the dozing horses so suddenly that they started up with a spasmodic jerk which nearly threw the old fellow from his perch. By a desperate effort, however, he maintained his seat, but his broad-brimmed hat went flying from his bald head and rolled to the ground, scattering in its fall his snuff-box, spectacles and a monstrous red bandanna handkerchief. This little episode called forth a peal of laughter from the by-standers, in which the old man heartily joined.
"Stick to 'em, Jerry!" cried one, "too much oats makes them animals frisky," while another hastened to pick up the several articles and restore them to their owner.
Jerry wiped the great drops of perspiration from his bald, shining pate, as he replied:
"Them hosses are a leetle too high fed, I'll admit, but I'll take some of the vinegar out of 'em afore night, or my name ain't Jerry Hobson."
Everything being now in readiness, he againspoke to his steeds, and this time without mishap, the lumbering old vehicle rattled away on its journey. The little crowd gradually dispersed and soon left Robert and the constable alone with the store-keeper.
"I didn't see old Ben Ratcliffe around this morning," said Mr. Bascom to John Todd, the store-keeper.
"No," answered that individual; "he was here last evening, and said if the weather was fine he was going with his nephew over to the lake, fishing."
"That accounts for it, then," said the constable; "I don't think he has ever missed a day for ten years before."
"No, I don't think he has; but that young Mr. Amos, who is stopping here with him, is very fond of fishing, and the old man promised to take him over to Pine Lake this morning, so 'Uncle Ben' missed the mail for once."
After a short conversation with the store-keeper upon general matters, the two men took their leave. It seemed very evident that as yetthere was no suspicion on the part of Edwards, as to the discovery of his hiding-place, and here in fancied safety, surrounded by nature in all its beauty, with affectionate relatives, the young burglar was enjoying himself as heartily as though no cares were oppressing him, and no thought of detection ever troubled his mind.
The uncle of young Edwards, it was learned, was a general favorite about the country. A good-natured, honest old farmer, who had lived there from boyhood, and was known to all the farmers and their families for miles around. Even in his old age, for he was long past sixty now, he cherished his old love for gunning and fishing, and held his own right manfully among those who were many years his junior.
It was decided, as a matter of precaution, that they should call at the house of Uncle Ben, in order to ascertain whether he and his nephew had really gone fishing, and to that end the constable harnessed up his horses, and in a few minutes they were on their way to the oldfarm-house, which stood at the end of a long shady lane leading off from the main road.
The Robbery of the Geneva BankThe Robbery of the Geneva Bank
Driving up to the gate, the constable alighted and approached the house, while Robert remained seated in the buggy. In a few moments he returned, and stated that Mrs. Ratcliffe, the good farmer's wife, had informed him that her husband and nephew had gone off before daylight to a lake about five miles distant, and they would not return until late in the evening.
It was deemed advisable not to attempt to follow them, as their appearance at the lake might give the young man alarm, and as they were not sure of any particular place to find them, they concluded to quietly await their return. They accordingly drove back to the village, and Robert returned to the constable's house to dinner. In the afternoon the two operatives whom I had sent from Chicago arrived, having been driven over by private conveyance. Without publicly acknowledging them, Robert gave them to understand that hewould meet them at the house of the constable, and upon repairing thither they were duly informed of what had taken place, and instructed as to the plans proposed for that evening.
Nothing of any note transpired during the afternoon, and after sundown the party started out upon their errand. Night soon came on, throwing its sable mantle over the earth, the sounds of the busy day were hushed, and all the world seemed wrapped in the tranquil stillness of a summer night. The stars, in countless numbers, were twinkling and sparkling in the blue heavens above, while the new moon, like a silver crescent, shed its soft light upon a scene of rare beauty and quiet loveliness.
Arriving within a short distance of the old farmer's house, the horses and buggy were secreted in a little grove of trees that skirted the main road, and the men stationed themselves in convenient hiding-places along the lane, to await the return of the farmer and his nephew. From the appearance of the farm-house, it was evident that the fishing-party hadnot yet returned, and they settled themselves down to a patient, silent waiting, which, as the hours wore on, grew painfully tedious and tiresome. At last, long past midnight, and after they had begun to despair of accomplishing the object of their visit, they heard a faint noise, as though footsteps were approaching.
"Hist!" cried Robert, "some one is coming."
They listened intently, and gradually the noises grew louder and more distinct. As they came nearer the constable distinctly recognized the voice of the old farmer, who was evidently relating some humorous story to his companion, who was laughing heartily. The merry tones of this young man's laugh were as clear and ringing as though he had not a care in the world, and had not committed a crime against the laws of the state. No one, to have heard that hearty, melodious burst of merriment, would have supposed for an instant that it came from the lips of a fugitive from justice.
They were now nearly opposite to thecrouching figures by the roadside. The old farmer had evidently reached the climax of his story, for both of them broke out again into a fresh burst of violent laughter that awoke the echoes round about them.
The laugh suddenly died away, the merriment ceased abruptly, as a dark form emerged from the roadside, and the muzzle of a revolver was placed close to the cheek of the young man, while Robert called out menacingly:
"Newton Edwards, I want you!"
With an exclamation of pain, the young man dropped his fishing-pole and the bucket of fish he was carrying, while a chill ran through his frame, and he shivered like an aspen in the grasp of the determined detective.
The others had now come forward, and as soon as he could recover from his astonishment, the old farmer cried out:
"What does this mean?"
"It means," said Robert coolly, "that we have arrested your nephew for burglary, and that he must go with us."
Newton Edwards, I want you!"Newton Edwards, I want you!"
The moon just then came peeping from behind a cloud, and fell upon the haggard face and wild eyes of the hapless prisoner, who until then had not uttered a word.
"It is all a mistake, Uncle Ben," faltered he; "but there is no use of making a denial here; if the blow has fallen, I must meet it like a man."
The old man, with tears in his honest old eyes, gazed for a moment at his miserable relative, and then, putting his sturdy old arms around him, he turned to the officers:
"Gentlemen, I suppose it is your duty. I have no fault to find. If the boy has done wrong, he must suffer; but bring him to the house now, and in the morning you can go your way."
His offer was accepted, and directing the constable to return to his own home with his carriage, the others walked slowly up the lane toward the house.
But few words were spoken during the night. The old farmer and his wife retired to their room, and during the few hours that remained,their voices could be heard as they sorrowfully discussed the painful situation.
Securing Edwards' effects, which consisted of a small portmanteau, they learned from the honest old farmer, whose word was as true as gold, that nothing else belonging to the young man was in the house. All attempts to induce the young man to speak were unavailing, and they finally let him alone, and during the long hours he maintained a dogged silence. The detectives patiently awaited the dawning of the morn. At last the eastern sky was tinged with red, and the faint beams of a new day came streaming in through the windows of the old-farm house; and then Edwards, after bidding a tearful adieu to his aged and stricken relatives, and accompanied by the officers, left the house and proceeded on his way to McDonald, to commence his journey to Chicago.
Newton Edwards brought back to Chicago—Attempt to Induce a Confession—A Visit to his Relatives—The Burglar Broken Down.
It was in the gray dawn of the morning when the party arrived at the house of the constable, Daniel Bascom. Here breakfast was prepared, and after full justice had been done to a bountiful repast, an examination of the effects of Newton Edwards was commenced. Ever since his arrest the young man had maintained a rigid silence, not deigning to notice the detectives in any manner whatever. He partook of his breakfast in a dazed, dreamy fashion, scarcely eating anything, and pushing back his plate as though unable to force himself to partake of food. In his satchel was discovered a roll of bank-bills, which on being countedwas found to contain a trifle over three thousand five hundred dollars.
Edwards gazed at this money with a greedy, frightened look, like a wild beast at bay, but did not utter a word, as Robert placed it in a large envelope and secured it about his person.
"Will you be kind enough to inform me," said Robert, when this was completed, "how you come to have so much money about you?"
After a moment's hesitation, Edwards replied, doggedly:
"Yes, sir, I will. It is the proceeds of the sale of some property that I owned in the west."
"Very well," replied Robert, finding it useless, at present, to attempt to induce him to tell the truth. "You will have ample opportunity to satisfy a court and jury upon that point in a very short time."
Nothing farther was said to him until the time arrived for departing, and then the party, with their prisoner, walked into the village inorder to take the stage for the railroad station at Birmingham.
Before leaving Mr. Bascom's, however, Robert handsomely remunerated the energetic constable for his valuable assistance, and after thanking him warmly for his active and cordial aid in our behalf, requested his company to the village.
As they approached the store, where the stage-coach was in waiting, they found an unusual crowd awaiting their appearance. The news of the robbery and arrest had by some means become known, and the eager faces of nearly three score of curiosity-seekers greeted them upon their arrival.
Old Jerry himself seemed to be impressed with an idea of additional importance, as though he was about to be called upon to perform a noble service of great responsibility to his country, in assisting to convey such a distinguished company in his old coach. The farmers gathered in little groups about the platform, and conversed in low tones, as theyfurtively regarded with sentiments almost approaching a respectful awe, the unwonted presence of the detectives and their charge. There was an utter absence of the boisterous hilarity which had been manifested on the preceding morning, and one might have thought that they had assembled for the purpose of officiating at a funeral, so thoroughly subdued and solemn did they all appear.
The journey to the railway station was made in due time, and without accident, and the party were speeding on their way to Chicago. Robert forbore to press the young man any further, and let him severely alone during the entire day. During the night they all retired to their sleeping berths, Edwards being securely handcuffed to one of my men, and occupying the same berth with him.
In the morning, Robert noticed a slight change in the demeanor of Edwards, and thought he detected a disposition to converse. He did not encourage him, however, preferring by all means that the advances should be madeby the young man himself. Nor did he have long to wait. They procured their breakfast in the dining car, and after the meal was concluded, Robert, without uttering a word, handed Edwards a cigar, which he very gratefully accepted. After sitting quietly smoking for a few moments, he turned to Robert and asked: "Mr. Pinkerton, how did you discover that I was in McDonald?"
"In the same manner in which we have discovered many other things in connection with this robbery," replied Robert. "I may say, however, that the man we came for was William R. Amos; do you know anything about such a person?"
As Robert spoke he gazed scrutinizingly at the face before him, and Edwards winced perceptibly under his glance.
"I can explain that all right," he at length replied, with considerable embarrassment. "I got into some trouble at home with a young lady, and thought it best to leave town for a short time."
"Edwards," said Robert sternly, "falsehood and impudence will not help you in this case, and I wish to hear no more. I have only to say that we have evidence enough against you to insure a conviction, and your only hope lies in making your sentence as light as possible."
"How so?" he asked.
"By telling all you know about this matter. One of your accomplices, we have got dead to rights, and if you won't tell perhaps he will."
"Who have you got?" inquired Edwards, anxiously.
"That I cannot tell you now; our business is with you for the present. I want you to consider this matter carefully. You are a young man yet, and though you have thrown away golden opportunities in the past, you have yet an opportunity to reform your ways, and by assisting the officers of justice in recovering the money which you and your companions have stolen, and in arresting the rest of your associates, you may receive the clemency of the court, and perhaps benefit yourself materially."
Edwards was silent for a long time after this, and it was evident that he was seriously considering the matter. The words of the detective had made an impression upon him, but with the craftiness of an old offender, he was debating a plan by which he might turn his admissions into account for himself. At length he turned to Robert and asked:
"Will I be able to escape if I tell what I know?"
"I cannot promise that. But you are aware that the giving of information which leads to the capture of your associates and the recovery of the balance of this money, will work to your advantage very decidedly in the mind of the judge."
"Very well," said Edwards, with a dogged sullenness, "your advice is very good, but I have no confession to make."
"Take your own course," said Robert, carelessly. "My advice was for your own good, and as you don't seem willing to accept it, I have nothing more to say."
Although he had not accomplished very much as yet, Robert was still hopeful of inducing Edwards to unburden himself; but he resolved to attempt nothing further with him until they arrived in Chicago, where he could be managed more successfully by those who were more fully conversant with the facts in the case. He well knew that we already possessed testimony amply sufficient to convict Edwards of participating in the robbery, but what we most desired was to obtain information concerning his partners in the deed. However, he decided to allow him ample time for reflection and said no more to him upon the subject until they reached Chicago, when he was at once conducted to the agency.
A consultation was immediately held in order to devise the best means to be pursued to induce Edwards to reveal who his partners really were. William at once resolved upon a plan which he was hopeful would lead to good and immediate results. Calling a carriage, he directed the driver to take him to the residenceof Edwards' sister, Mrs. Andrews, on Logan Place. On arriving at the house, he found that lady and her daughter at home, and he was immediately ushered into the parlor by the pretty servant, Mary Crilly. Without unnecessary preliminary, William informed the lady that we had succeeded in arresting Edwards for the robbery of the Geneva Bank, and that he was now in custody. He also stated that from information which he had obtained, he was led to believe that his family were perfectly aware of his actions in this matter, if indeed they had not aided him in accomplishing it.
At this point both mother and daughter burst into tears and sobbingly denied any knowledge of Edwards' crime until after he had committed it, and then they could not act as his accusers. Mrs. Andrews finally urged him to visit Edwards' brother, who resided on Freeman street, and hinted that he could tell something about the matter, although she asserted he took no part in it, and knew nothing about it until it had been completed.
Taking it for granted that they had told him all they knew about the robbery, William next hurried to the place of business of Edwards' brother, whom he was fortunate enough to find in his office, and disengaged. He at once stated who he was, and what he wanted to know. Mr. Edwards was at first disposed to deny all knowledge of the matter, but on William's informing him of his brother's arrest, and hinting that he had made a partial confession, he changed his mind and became quite communicative.
The brother then stated that for years he had been troubled with Newton's bad habits and extravagances, although he had never known him to commit a crime until the robbery of the bank at Geneva. He remembered hearing his brother boast once when he was intoxicated, that he could get plenty of money without work; but as Newton gambled a great deal, he imagined that he had alluded to that means of obtaining his money.
"Well," said William abruptly, "I want to know what you know about this robbery."
"I will tell you all I know," answered Mr. Edwards. "Some three or four weeks before I heard of this robbery, Newton was at my house, and was intoxicated. He boasted in his maudlin way that he had an opportunity to rob a bank, and that the cashier was a party to the affair; but I attributed all this to the wild utterances of a drunken man, and paid no further attention to it. On the Saturday night before the robbery took place, however, he came to my house during my absence, and had a companion with him, for whom he made a bed upon my parlor floor. In the morning they went away, and I have not seen him since. My wife informed me afterward that Newton, who was drunk at the time, had told her that the man with him was the one that was to help him to rob the bank, and that she had then ordered both of them out of the house. I did not at any time know where the bank was located, nor did I ever seriously entertain the idea of hisattempting anything of the kind; but when I heard of the robbery of the Geneva bank, I at once suspected my brother, and although humiliated deeply at the thought, I could not take any step that would tend to bring disgrace and ruin upon my own family."
Without entering into the question of family honor, William inquired:
"Do you know the man who was with him at your house, and who was to assist in this robbery?"
"No," answered Mr. Edwards. "I never heard his name, and all that I ever knew of him was that he came from Denver, Colorado."
"Can you describe him?" asked William.
"Yes, I think I can," said Mr. Edwards, and he then gave a description of the man, which agreed perfectly with that of Edwards' companion on the day of the robbery.
Having now obtained all the information that was possible to be gained from this source, William returned to the agency, and entered the room where Edwards was confined. He foundthe young man sitting with his face buried in his hands and evidently in sore distress.
"Mr. Edwards," said William in his quick, imperious manner, "I have just had an interview with your brother and sister, who have told me all they know about this matter. You will readily see what little hope there is left for you if you persist in keeping from us the information which we desire. Whether you confess or not will make but little difference to us now, as sooner or later your associates will be caught, and your refusal to help us will only make it the harder for you. If you don't confess, Eugene Pearson will."
As William uttered this last sentence Edwards started to his feet, and exclaimed:
"My God, you know more than I thought! I will tell what I know."
At last we had succeeded in breaking him down, and there was a gleam of satisfaction in William's eyes as he requested the presence of Mr. Warner and my son Robert, while the story was being told.