Bob King Meets with a Surprise—His Story of Duncan's Flight—The Detective Starts Westward.
The most important object now to be accomplished was to secure an interview with Bob King, the brakeman, who had accompanied Duncan when he left Des Moines. Manning was convinced that King was fully aware by this time of the crime which Duncan had committed, and perhaps for a share of the proceeds, had assisted him in his flight from justice.
Early on the following morning, therefore, he left the hotel, and started off in the direction of the depot, resolved to make a tour of the numerous boarding-houses before calling upon the chief of police. He had already obtained an accurate description of the man he was insearch of, and had no doubt of recognizing him, should he be fortunate enough to meet him. Passing quietly along, he came to the large switch-yards, and here he was almost deafened by the rumble and noise of the trains, and the screeching and puffing of the engines. Here Manning paused awhile in the hope of seeing his man among the number of brakemen engaged about the yard; but finding no one that answered his description, he approached a party of men standing near, and inquired:
"Can you tell me where I will find Bob King?"
"Bob is not working to-day, and you will probably find him at the Union House, yonder," was the reply, as the man stretched his dirty finger in the direction indicated. Thanking the man, he passed through the yard to the street upon the opposite side. Here he found a long row of houses of various descriptions, but all of them apparently occupied as eating-saloons, boarding-houses and hotels. On the corner of the street, and directly opposite fromwhere the detective stood, was a low, dingy-looking frame building, with the name of Union House painted across the front.
"Here we are," said Manning to himself, "and we will soon ascertain if Mr. King is about."
So saying he crossed the street and entered the office or waiting-room of the hostelry. An old settee, a half-dozen or more well-whittled wooden arm-chairs, a rusty stove set in a square box filled with saw-dust, were about all the movable furniture which the room contained. In the corner, however, was a short counter behind which, arranged on long rows of hooks, were suspended a number of hats, caps and coats of a decidedly miscellaneous character.
An ancient-looking register, filled with blots and hieroglyphics, lay upon the counter, and as the room was empty, Manning walked toward the open volume and examined the names inscribed thereon. Under the date of the preceding evening, he found the name hewas looking for, and a cabalistic sign on the margin designated that he had lodged there the night before and indicated that he might still be in the house.
While he was thus standing, a frowsy-headed young man, whose face was still shining from the severe friction of a coarse roller-towel, which hung behind the door, entered the room, and saluting the detective familiarly, proceeded to comb his hair before a cracked mirror that hung behind the desk. After he had hastily finished this operation, he turned again to Manning, who had been smilingly observing his movements.
"Have you had breakfast, sir? last table just ready."
"Thank you," replied Manning, "I have already had my breakfast. I am looking for a man who is stopping here, by the name of King."
"What's his first name—Bob?"
"Yes, that's his name. He is a brakeman on the road."
"Oh, yes, Bob's here. He's eating his breakfast now. Just sit down, he'll be here directly."
After waiting a few minutes, a tall, broad-shouldered young man, of rather good-natured and intelligent appearance, entered the room, and taking a cap from one of the hooks upon the wall, placed it upon his head.
It did not require the rather officious indication of the young clerk to induce the detective to recognize the new-comer as the man whom he was most desirous of seeing; his appearance tallied precisely with the description of him which he had previously obtained.
Stepping quietly up to the young man, the detective said, carelessly:
"Your name is Bob King, I believe?"
Somewhat confused by the abrupt salutation, the young fellow replied, rather awkwardly:
"Yes, that's my name; but you've got the brakes on me, for I don't remember that I ever saw you before."
"Perhaps not," answered Manning, "but I want to have a little private conversation with you for a few minutes. Can we go somewhere where we will not be interrupted?"
"Why, yes," responded the other, still evidently ill at ease, "come in here." And turning about, he led the way through a door across the hall, and entered a small and plainly furnished sitting-room.
"Wait," said Manning, as if suddenly conceiving an idea. "The morning is pleasant, and I have a good cigar here; suppose we take a short walk together. We can talk as we stroll along."
"All right," said King, as he took the proffered cigar, and lighting it, they went out of the hotel into the street.
Mr. Robert King eyed the detective furtively ever and anon, and seemed to be impatient for him to begin the conversation, and inform him what it was all about. There was, however, such a perfect air of ease and unconcern about Manning, that the youngbrakeman felt impelled to accompany him whether he would or not. Manning led the way in the direction of the office of the chief of police, and after they had fairly started, he turned to his companion, and good-naturedly said:
"Mr. King, I suppose you are quite anxious to know who I am, and what is the nature of my business with you?"
"Well, yes," answered King, smilingly, for thesang froidof Manning had quite won his heart. "I would like to know both of those things."
"Well," said the detective, "my name is John Manning, and I am a native of Chicago. I am an intimate friend of 'Tod' Duncan's, and want to know where to find him."
"You will have to ask somebody that can tell you, then," answered King, who had now fully recovered his composure, "for I don't know anything about him."
"Why," ejaculated Manning, as though quite surprised at the information, "I thought thatyou and Tod went off on a hunting or fishing party a few weeks ago, and that you came home, leaving Tod to continue his journey alone."
"That's a mistake," said King, "and whoever informed you to that effect was as much mistaken as you are."
Mr. King was evidently trying the good-natured game of bluff, and Manning noticed with some satisfaction that they were now approaching very near to the office of Mr. Wallace.
"See here," said he, suddenly turning on his companion. "Mr. King, this won't do. Duncan is wanted for the Geneva bank robbery. He was here three weeks ago, and you were with him. You got him out of town, and if you are not disposed to be communicative, I have simply got to place you under arrest."
The change in King's manner was very complete. He was utterly surprised and nonplused, and before he could answer a word Manning placed his hand on his shoulder and said,peremptorily: "Come in here, Mr. King; perhaps Mr. Wallace can loosen your tongue."
"Come in here, Mr. King; perhaps Mr. Wallace can loosen your tongue.""Come in here, Mr. King; perhaps Mr. Wallace can loosen your tongue."
They were now directly in front of the office of the chief, and King knew that any attempt at resistance would be futile, and decidedly unwise, so he deemed it best to submit at once.
"Don't be too hard on a fellow," said he at last. "I have a good position and I can't afford to lose it. If you will give me a chance, I will tell you all I know."
"Very well, come right in here," said Manning, "and if you tell me the truth, I promise you no harm will come to you."
In a few minutes they were closeted with the chief, who knew King very well, and who added his assurances to those of Manning, that if he would unburden himself fully, no danger need be apprehended.
"I want to say first," said King, at last convinced that it would be better to make a clean breast of the whole matter, "that what I did, was done in good faith, and I only thoughtI was helping a friend who had got into trouble through acting in self-defense."
"Very well," said Manning, "we will admit all that, but tell us what you know."
"Well," answered King, after a pause in which to collect himself, "It was about three weeks ago, that Duncan came to the city, and knowing where I stopped, he came to see me. I happened to be in from my run when he called, and he wanted to know if I could get a leave of absence for a week, as he wanted to go on a fishing trip and would pay all the expenses. I went to the master of transportation and found no difficulty in obtaining my leave, and then I saw Tod and told him I was at his service. We then procured a team, guns, fishing-tackle and provisions, not forgetting a good supply of smoking and drinking articles, and the next day started off in the direction of Grand Junction. Before we started, Duncan told me about getting into a scrape over a game of cards at Leadville, and that he had shot two gamblersand was keeping out of the way until the excitement over the affair had died out."
"Duncan has raised one man, I see," laughed Manning. "When I heard this story first, he had only killed one gambler in his fight over the cards."
"Well, I am telling you what Duncan told me," answered King.
"That's all right," said Manning quietly, "but suppose you go ahead and tell us what he told you about robbing the Geneva bank."
The cool assurance of the detective, and the easy assumption with which he stated his conclusions, so disconcerted King, that he was speechless for a few moments. Recovering himself quickly, however, he answered doggedly:
"Well, I intended to tell you the whole story, and I was simply telling it in my own way."
"Go on, Mr. King," said Manning, "all I want is the truth, but the card story won't do."
"I guess it won't do me any good to tell you anything else but the truth," rejoined King."Well, Tod told me about this shooting business before we started, and of course I believed it. I noticed, though, before we were away from the city very long, that there was something else on his mind, that made him very uneasy, and gave him a great deal of trouble. He was moody and silent for hours, and it was only when he drank a great deal that he was at all lively, or seemed like his old natural self. Finally, on the morning of the third day, I put the question fairly to him, and he then told me what he had done. He said he and two others had robbed a bank, and that he was making his way westward. He was resolved not to be captured, and said that no two men should take him alive. He then told me that he wanted me to take the team back to Des Moines, and that he would take the train at Grand Junction, and try to make his way to Manitoba. We parted company at the Junction, where Tod took the train for Sioux City. He paid all the expenses of the trip and offered to give me some of the money, but I refused to acceptany, and told him what I had done was done simply for friendship."
"How much money did Duncan have at that time?" asked Manning.
"He had nearly four thousand dollars, I should judge," answered King.
"Did he say who assisted him in this robbery?"
"Yes; he told me that a man by the name of Edwards was one, and that the assistant cashier of the bank was the prime mover in the whole affair. He also said that the cashier had not played fair, but had taken out twelve thousand dollars in gold instead of six thousand. He was very bitter against this man, and said he believed that he would give them all away to save his own neck, if it came to the pinch."
After some further conversation, which convinced Manning that King was telling the truth and that he was entirely ignorant of Duncan's hiding-place, the young brakeman was allowed to go his way, with the understanding that they were to meet again in the evening.
Manning now hastened to the telegraph office, and a cipher message, containing in brief all he had thus far learned, was soon upon its way to me.
My reply was to the effect that he should again see King, and inquire if Duncan had mentioned anything about the valise which they had carried away from Geneva. Then to endeavor to obtain a photograph of Duncan, and finally thereafter to lose no time in starting out for Sioux City.
I was considerably exercised about this missing package of gold. I could not believe that Pearson had taken it, although both Edwards and Duncan appeared to be positive of it. The young cashier now seemed to be too utterly crushed down and humiliated to permit me to believe that he had lied still further, and that he was still keeping back a portion of the plunder he had secured. Still, however much I was desirous of discarding such a belief, I wasresolved to leave no stone unturned in order to explain the mystery. I felt positive that some explanation would yet be made that would account for this package, and in a manner that would not connect Eugene Pearson with its disappearance. Up to this time, however, we were as far from the truth in this connection as when we commenced, and I could do no more than await the arrest of Duncan, before the matter could be definitely settled. I came to this conclusion on the assumption that all the parties thus far had told the truth, and it seemed to me that one or the other of them must certainly be mistaken in their original impressions.
This theory, however, yet remained. Edwards and Duncan might have obtained the money, and being still under the influence of the liquor they had drank, and excited over what had transpired, had thrown away the valise, and at that time it might still have contained the gold.
In accordance with my instructions, Manning remained in Des Moines two days succeeding this, but was unable to learn from King that Duncan had mentioned the valise in any manner whatever.
In his attempt to obtain a photograph of Duncan, however, he was more successful, and with the assistance of Capt. Wallace, he was fortunate enough to be placed in possession of a very excellent picture of young Duncan, which had but recently been taken. This accession to his stock of knowledge was destined to play an important part in his continued search after the fugitive burglar. Finding that nothing more could be learned in Des Moines, and receiving assurances from the friendly chief that any information would be forwarded to him at once, Manning departed from the home of the youthful law-breaker and started for Sioux City.
Manning Strikes the Trail—An Accommodating Tailor—Temporary Disappointment and final Success—The Detective reaches Minneapolis.
August, with its hot, sweltering days, when the very skies seemed to be a canopy of lurid, quivering heat; and when every breeze seemed freighted with a depressing warmth that almost rendered labor impossible, had passed away, and we were now in the enjoyment of the clear, cool days of September. The skies were bluer, the air was purer, and the beautiful, golden autumn was welcomed with a grateful sense of pleasure and relief. Nearly a month had now elapsed since the robbery of the Geneva Bank, and, although we had accomplished much, our work was not yet completed. Thomas Duncan was still at liberty,and our task was yet unfinished. I have already, as briefly as I could, related the various events which had transpired since the robbery, and detailed the efforts which we had thus far made toward accomplishing the capture of the perpetrators of this crime. Of Thomas Duncan, however, I had learned comparatively little, and of his movements still less; and yet, at times, I found myself indulging in feelings of sympathy for the young man, who had so recklessly and inconsiderately thrown away the best chances of his life. Of a careless disposition and inclined to folly, I was convinced that until this time he had never stooped to commit a crime. This was his first flagrant violation of the law, and when I thought of him a hunted fugitive, seeking to hide himself from the vigilant eyes of the officers of the law, and of the quiet, peaceful and happy home of his parents, I could not repress a feeling of regret and sorrow for the wayward youth in this, the hour of his humiliation and trial. Far different from Eugene Pearson, who had no cares and notemptations to commit crimes, and who had practiced a scheme of vile deception and ingratitude for years, Thomas Duncan had been found in a moment of weakness and desperation, and under the influence of wily tempters, had yielded himself up to their blandishments, and had done that which had made him a felon. As to Eugene Pearson, the trusted, honored and respected official of the bank, who had deliberately planned and assisted in this robbery of his best friends, I had no words of palliation for his offenses; but for "Tod" Duncan, the weak and tempted victim of designing men and adverse circumstances, I experienced a sense of sympathy which I could not easily shake off.
Where was he now? Perhaps hiding in the forests of the far west, amid the barbaric scenes of savage life; perhaps giving himself up to a reckless life of dissipation, seeking in the delirium of intoxication a forgetfulness of the deed he had committed, and of the consequences which must befall him. How many long, wearynights since he fled from Geneva, with his ill-gotten booty, had he, even in the midst of a bacchanalian revel, started suddenly, as if in fear of the officer he so much dreaded, and then with a boastful laugh drank deeper to drown the agonies that oppressed him? Perhaps, on the other hand, the first step taken, the rest had come easy and without effort, and he had already become hardened and reckless. Whatever might be the case, we were as yet uninformed, and operative John Manning arrived in Sioux City with no definite clew to the missing man.
Seeking, as before, the assistance of the police authorities, Manning proposed to make a tour of the so-called houses of pleasure, which infest all cities, deeming it most likely that he would obtain some traces of Duncan by that means. This proved successful in a comparative degree, for in one of these places Manning found a gay young cyprian, who recognized Duncan's picture immediately. A bottle of very inferior wine at an exorbitant price was ordered, and under its influence the girl informed the detectivethat Duncan had come there alone one evening about two weeks prior to this time, and that she had accompanied him upon a drive. They had become quite familiar during their short acquaintance, and Duncan drank a great deal. On the following morning he had left the house, and stated that he was going to leave the city that day. Further than this, the girl could not say, and Manning must needs be content with even that trifling amount of encouragement for the present.
Manning had also been provided with a facsimile of Duncan's handwriting and signature, and he carefully examined the registers of the several hotels, in order to discover whether he had stopped at any of them under his own or any fictitious name which resembled in any manner the one he bore, but without any success whatever.
On returning to the hotel, he occupied himself debating as to the best movement to make next. He was surprised on arriving there to find a telegram from Capt. Wallace awaitinghim. On removing the inclosure he found a message informing him that Duncan had an acquaintance in Sioux City whose name was Griswold, and who was engaged in the tailoring business at that place.
Aided by this important piece of intelligence, the detective was not long in finding the establishment presided over by Mr. Griswold. That gentleman was located in the business section of the city, and his neatly arranged store was well stocked with goods of excellent quality and apparently of recent style. On entering the shop, Mr. Griswold was found perched on a table in the rear, his legs crossed, and with nimble fingers was engaged in the manufacture of some of the articles of his trade. He was a small, sharp-featured man, about forty, with a shrewd though not unpleasant face, and as he came briskly forward to greet a prospective customer, his countenance was wreathed in a smile that was almost irresistible.
"Can I do anything for you this morning?" was the polite salutation of the little tailor.
"Yes," replied the detective. "I want to look at some goods that will make a good suit of clothes."
"Certainly," replied the knight of the shears. "I have some excellent styles here, and I am sure I can give you your full satisfaction."
"I have no doubt of that," said Manning pleasantly. "I have been recommended here by my friend Tod Duncan, and he speaks very highly of you."
The face of the little tailor was again wreathed in smiles, as he delightedly inquired:
"Do you mean Duncan, the traveling man from Des Moines?"
"Yes," replied Manning, "that's the man; I am a traveling man myself, but in a different line, and I expected to meet him in this city, but I was disappointed. I guess he must have got ahead of me."
"Let me see," said Mr. Griswold, with his needle-pricked finger pressed against his nose. "He was here about two weeks ago, I guess."
"Do you know which way he was going?"
"I think he said he was going to St. Paul. I made a suit of clothes for him in a great hurry, as he was very anxious to get away."
"What kind of a suit did he get?" asked Manning, now anxious to learn the clothing of the man, in order that he might the more accurately describe him.
"It was from this piece," said Mr. Griswold, throwing on the table a roll of dark green cassimere. "That is one of the latest importations, and as fine a piece of goods as I have in the house."
"I like that myself," said the detective. "Would you object to giving me a small piece of it as a sample? I want to show it to a friend of mine at the hotel, who has pretty good taste in such matters."
"Of course not," replied Mr. Griswold, as he clipped off a piece of the cloth, little dreaming of the use to which the detective would put it.
Declining to make a selection until he had sought the advice of an imaginary friend, andstating that he would probably call again in the evening, Manning took his leave of the little tailor. The detective then repaired to the railroad ticket office, where he had a friend of long standing, from whom he hoped to derive some material information.
At the railroad station he found his friend on duty, and after the usual friendly salutations, he requested a few moments' private conversation. Being admitted to an inner office, Manning at once displayed the photograph of Duncan, and asked:
"Harry, have you seen that face about here, say within about two weeks?"
Taking the picture, and regarding it intently for a moment, he said:
"Why, yes—that's Duncan from Des Moines. I know him very well. He has been here often."
"Well, has he been here within two weeks?"
"Yes, he was here about two weeks ago on a spree, and he bought a ticket for St. Paul."
"Are you quite sure about that?"
"Perfectly sure," answered the ticket agent. "I remember it distinctly, and what impressed it the more forcibly upon my mind is the fact that he wanted to know if I could give him a ticket on the Northern Pacific road from here, and I told him he would have to go to St. Paul for that."
"Did he mention any particular point on the railroad that he wanted a ticket for?" asked Manning.
"No, I think not. He simply said he was making for Dakota."
Ascertaining that a train would leave for St. Paul in an hour, the detective purchased a ticket for that city, and thanking the agent for his information, he returned to the hotel to make arrangements for continuing his journey. Before leaving, however, he telegraphed me his destination, and what he had been able to learn.
From this information it was evident that Duncan was endeavoring to reach the far west,and there seek a refuge among some of the numerous mining camps which abound in that section of the country, hoping by that means to successfully elude pursuit, should any be made for him. It was plainly evident to me that he was entirely unaware of being followed, and, in fact, of anything that had taken place since the robbery, and that he was simply following his own blind inclinations to hide himself as effectually as he could.
The first task performed by Manning after reaching St. Paul, was to examine all the hotel registers, in the hope of discovering some traces of an entry resembling the peculiar handwriting of Duncan. He also took the precaution to quietly display the photograph of the young man to all the clerks of the various hostelries, trusting that some one would recognize him as one who had been their guest on some previous occasion. In this, too, he was disappointed. Among the many to whom he displayed Duncan's picture, not one of them had any recollection of such an individual.
Feeling somewhat disheartened at this non-success, Manning next sought the chief of police, and enlisted his services in our behalf. That evening, in company with an officer, he made a tour among the houses of ill repute, and here, too, disappointment awaited him. Not one among the number whom he approached had any knowledge of the man, and therefore could give him no information.
Tired and puzzled and vexed, he at length was compelled to return to the hotel, and seek his much-needed repose.
His experience in St. Paul had thus far been far from satisfactory, and yet the thought of abandoning his investigations in that city never occurred to him. He had too frequently been compelled to battle with unpromising circumstances in the past, to allow a temporary discomfiture to dishearten him now. He felt that he was upon the right track, that Duncan had certainly come from Sioux City to St. Paul, but whether he had remained here any length of time, or had pushed on without stopping,was the question that bothered him immensely. Resolving, therefore, to renew his efforts in the morning, he soon fell asleep.
On the morrow, when he descended to the office of the hotel, preparatory to partaking of his morning repast, he noticed with some little surprise that a new face was behind the counter.
Surmising that this might be the night clerk, yet unrelieved from his duties, and that Duncan might have arrived during the time he officiated, Manning approached him, and propounded the usual question. When he brought forth the photograph, to his intense delight, the clerk recognized it at once. Turning to the register and hastily running over the leaves, he pointed to a name inscribed thereon.
"That's the man," said he confidently.
Manning looked at the name indicated, and found scrawled in a very uncertain hand:
"John Tracy, Denver, Col."
"He came in on a night train," continued the clerk. "He only remained to breakfast and went away shortly afterward."
"Have you any idea which way he went?" inquired Manning.
"No, I cannot tell you that. He left the hotel shortly after breakfast in a hack. He did not return after that, but sent the hackman here to pay his bill and to obtain his valise. He acted very strange while he was here, and I felt somewhat suspicious of him."
"Can you tell me the name of this hackman?" now asked Manning.
"I think his name is Davids," answered the clerk, "but I will ask the baggage-man about him; he can, no doubt, tell me who he is."
The baggage-man was summoned and he distinctly remembered the occurrence, and that the driver's name was Billy Davids, who was well-known throughout the city, particularly among the sporting fraternity.
Thanking both of these men for the information which they had given him, the detective, forgetting all about his breakfast, hastened to the office of the chief of police, and acquaintinghim with what he had heard, expressed his desire to see this hackman at once.
The chief, who knew the man, at once volunteered to accompany him, and they left the office together in search of the important cab-driver. It being yet quite early in the morning, they went directly to the stable, and here they found Billy Davids in the act of harnessing his horses and preparing for his day's work.
"Good morning, Billy," said the chief, good-naturedly. "You are making an early start, I see; are you busy?"
"No, sir," answered Mr. Davids; "I can take you gentlemen wherever you want to go."
"Not to-day, Billy; but I have a friend here who wants to talk to you, and you may find it to your interest to tell him what he wishes to know."
Manning stepped forward and stated, in as few words as possible, what he desired, and at length displayed the inevitable photograph.
Davids recognized it at once, as a "party" who had engaged him to take himself and awoman from the hotel, to a resort some distance from the city, known as the "Half-way House." He performed this duty, and later in the day, after waiting several hours, the man had given him ten dollars and sent him back to the hotel to pay his bill and to obtain his valise. After performing this service, he returned to the Half-way House, and waited there until dark, when Duncan came out alone, and was driven to the Northern Pacific depot. Arriving here, he paid the hackman quite liberally and dismissed him, saying that he was going to leave town on the next train westward.
"Have you any idea where he was going?" asked Manning.
"I think he went to Minneapolis, for he asked me if that road would take him there, and I saw him get aboard the train for that city;" answered the driver.
This was all that Davids could tell; and after remunerating him for his trouble, Manning left him to finish his preparations for the day.
Here was the very information he wanted, and he had struck the trail again. Anxious to pursue his journey, Manning invited the chief to breakfast with him; after which, finding he could leave in a very short time, he bade the courteous and valuable officer good-by, and was soon on his way to Minneapolis, there to commence again the trail of the fleeing burglar.
The Detective at Bismarck—Further Traces of the Fugitive—A Protracted Orgie—A Jewish Friend of the Burglar in Trouble.
On arriving in Minneapolis, Manning was able to discover without serious difficulty that Duncan, after remaining in that city two days, had purchased a ticket over the Northern Pacific railroad for Bismarck, a thriving town in Dakota. This information he had been able to gain by a resort to his old method of visiting the houses of ill-fame, and then carelessly exposing Duncan's photograph to the various inmates, in such a manner as to excite no suspicion of his real errand. His experience thus far had been that Duncan, either to evade pursuit, to gratify bestial passion, or to endeavor by such excitements todrive away the haunting fear that oppressed him, had invariably sought the companionship of the harlot and the profligate. Being possessed of plenty of money, it may be imagined that he experienced no difficulty in finding associates willing to minister to his appetites, and to assist him in forgetting the dangers that threatened him, by dissipation and debauchery. All along his path were strewn these evidences of reckless abandonment, which, while they temporarily enabled him to drown the remembrances of his crime, yet, at the same time, they served most powerfully to point out to his pursuer the road he was traveling.
It appeared, therefore, that my first theories were correct, and that Thomas Duncan was making his way to the far western country, where, beyond the easy and expeditious mode of communication by railroad and telegraph, he would be safe from pursuit. He was evidently seeking to reach the mining district, where, among men as reckless as himself, he hoped to evade the officers of law.
Manning lost no time in following up the clew he had obtained in Minneapolis, and so, purchasing a ticket for Bismarck, he was soon thundering on his way to the Missouri river. At Brainerd, at Fargo in Minnesota, and at Jamestown in Dakota, during the time when the train had stopped for some necessary purpose, he had made inquiries, and at each place was rewarded by gleaning some information, however fragmentary, of the fugitive. He was therefore assured that he was upon the trail, and that unless something unforeseen occurred, he would sooner or later overtake the object of his pursuit.
On the following day Manning arrived at Bismarck, a thrifty and growing little town on the banks of the muddy Missouri. As the train left the more thickly populated country and emerged into the region of this as yet comparatively undeveloped west, the detective was surprised to witness the rapid advancements that had been made within a few years. The spirit of American energy and enterprise wasreaching out into this vast region, and already the influences of modern civilization and thrift were manifesting themselves. No longer a trackless waste, abandoned to the roaming bands of Indians and the wild beasts of the forest, and plain, the western continent was fast yielding to the plowshare of the husbandman, and to the powerful agencies of education and improvement.
Bismarck itself was a wonderfully active town, and during the season of navigation a large commercial business was transacted with the various towns upon the river, both above and below it. Before the advent of the Northern Pacific railroad, Bismarck had an existence, but simply as a sleepy river station, with its periodical bursts of life and animation during the months when the river was navigable and when trade along its waters was possible. When winter came, however, with its chilling blasts, and the river was frozen, trade almost ceased entirely, and Bismarck remained in sluggish inactivity until spring with its refreshing showers and balmy breezes awakened it to new life and being. Now, however, all was changed. The railroad with its facilities, had opened the way to emigration; the pioneers had penetrated the solitudes, and Bismarck had grown with that wonderful rapidity so characteristic of the western town. The advent of the iron horse had opened up new and hitherto undreamed of possibilities. Real estate, which had previously no fixed value whatever, was now in demand at almost fabulous prices. Stores and dwellings sprang into being, hotels and churches were built, school houses and even banking institutions flourished with a vigor that seemed almost miraculous.
Sauntering about the town on the morning after his arrival, Manning was surprised at the activity and bustle, the thrift and energy which greeted him on every hand. His past experiences had taught him many things which he found of use to him in making his inquiries in Bismarck, and it was not long before he succeeded in learning definite particulars of Duncan's stay in this place. From reliable sources he ascertained that the young man had arrived in the town about two weeks prior to this, and had remained several days, enjoying himself in much the same manner that had marked his residence in the other cities along his route, except that in Bismarck he had exposed himself to a greater extent than at any other place. It seemed that as he got further west, his fears of pursuit and detection grew less, and he became more bold and open in his actions. Here he had not attempted concealment at all, except as to his name, which he gave as Tom Moore, of Chicago; his carousals were publicly known, and the lavish expenditure of his stolen money was commented upon by many.
In a conversation with the proprietor of the hotel at which Duncan had stopped, the detective learned that his stay in the city had been marked by the most reckless dissipation and extravagance. So careless did he appear in the display of his money, of which he appeared to have a large amount, that the proprietor hadtaken it upon himself to warn him against the danger to which such a course would expose him. The town was infested with a gang of roughs and thieves, and he feared that if once they became aware of Duncan's wealth, his life would be of comparatively little value. Several of these characters had been seen about the hotel, and the landlord had remonstrated seriously with Duncan about his folly. To this Duncan had impudently replied that he could take care of himself, and needed no advice. Finding it of no use, therefore, to advise him, the landlord desisted in his efforts, and left him to follow his own inclinations.
Manning also learned from his host that Duncan had associated quite intimately while in the city, with a Jew clothing merchant, who was a resident here, and who seemed to be an old acquaintance. The name of this man was Jacob Gross, and ascertaining where his place of business was located, Manning determined to give him a call.
When he entered the store of Mr. Gross,that gentleman was engaged in waiting upon a customer. He was a perfect type of the Israelite—sharp-featured, with prominent nose, keen, glittering eyes and curly black hair. If any doubt of his race remained, the manner in which he conducted his bargain with his unsuspecting customer would have convinced any one of the presence of the veritable Jew.
Manning watched, with amused interest, the tact with which the Hebrew clothier endeavored to convince his customer that a coat, much too large for him, was "yust a fit and no mistake," and that the price which he asked was not half as much as the garment was worth.
After the customer had departed, the clothier advanced, bowing and smiling, toward the detective, as if anticipating another sale as profitable as the last one. Manning informed him in a few words that he was looking for Duncan, and was a friend of his, who was desirous of gaining some information of his present whereabouts, as unless he saw him, Duncan might be getting into more trouble.
It appeared that Duncan had told the same gambling story to Mr. Gross, who seemed to be dreadfully shocked at the affair.
"Py gracious," said he excitedly, "I hafe knowed dot boy ven I sold cloding in Des Moines, more as fife years ago, and so help me Moses I did nefer belief he vud do such a ting loike dot."
After further conversation, he learned that Duncan had spent a great deal of his time at this store, and when he left, had stated that he intended to go on to Miles City, and perhaps to Butte City, Montana. It appeared that Duncan had an uncle who was engaged in the clothing business at Butte City, and that it was possible he might eventually get there.
"If you find him," said Mr. Gross, after he had given the above information, "you musn't told him where you heard this, because he told me, I should say nothing about him to anybody."
"All right," replied Manning, "if I findhim, it won't make much difference to him who told me about him."
As he uttered these words a peculiar look came into the shrewd face of the Jew, a look which was partly of quick suspicion and of fear, and he eyed the imperturbable detective for a few moments as though seriously in doubt about the whole affair. Manning, however, had nothing further to say, and bidding the clothier a pleasant farewell he left the store.
On returning to the hotel, he found that he had several hours to wait, as no train would leave Bismarck until evening, and he therefore employed his time in writing up his reports and mailing them to me.
After partaking of an early tea, he returned to the railroad station, where he discovered that he had yet some time to wait before the arrival of the train, which was belated. As he was standing on the rude platform, musing over the events which had taken place in his journey thus far, and speculating as to the probable result of his chase after an individual who hadseemed, phantom-like, to have eluded his grasp at every point.
He knew full well the desperation of the man he was following, and the threat that "no two men should take him alive," was, he realized, no idle one. He had no doubt that unless he could circumvent him in some way, his capture might be no easy task, and that in this undeveloped country he was taking his life in his hands in the journey he was now making. He never faltered for an instant, however; he was determined to capture this criminal, if possible, and he quietly murmured to himself: "Well, let the worst come, a quick eye and a steady hand are good things to have in a meeting like this may be, and I'll take care that Thomas Duncan does not catch me napping."
His meditations were suddenly interrupted by the unexpected appearance of the little Jewish tailor, who, breathless and panting, now came scrambling up on the platform and exclaimed:
"Py gracious, Mr. Manning! I vas afraid you vas gone, and I hafe somedings on my mindt dot bodders me like de dickens!"