The stores of Mr. Leonard and of Brown and Felger opened upon a narrow
street, deserted at night, save that occasionally a passing policeman
gazed down its dark depths.
On the night of the robbery, however, the three men Will had seen
stood conversing just inside the rear door of Brown and Felger’s
establishment, the door standing ajar.
“Don’t move till near morning,” said one of them cautiously. “The
police may have been warned, and we will need to be wide awake. Wait
till the milk-wagons and market-wagons are on the street.”
“All right. Joe can play butcher,” was the reply.
“I will be off home now,” said the first speaker, “and leave you two to
finish the job.”
The door was closed behind him as he left the store and carefully made
his way along the street, seeking the deepest shadows, and keeping in
close to the houses.
He stepped out more boldly after he had reached a main street. Late
as the hour was, the street was not quite deserted. A few people were
moving.
One of these, in fact, was moving quite closely behind the burglar, and
seemed to be following him.
The latter was utterly surprised when a heavy hand was laid on his
shoulder, and a voice sounded in his ear:
“You are my prisoner.”
“What does this mean?” he cried, turning round in great indignation.
“Who are you that dare molest a quiet traveler on the streets?”
“Save all that,” said the other. “I know what I am doing, and am going
to put you in safe keeping for to-night.”
The other continued his remonstrances, but was forced along by the
officer, who still held him by the shoulder, and refused to make any
further reply to his remarks.
In five minutes he had him within the strong walls of the
station-house, and safely locked up in a cell.
“That’s one of them bagged,” he said.
Daylight was faintly showing in the east, and the occasional rumble of
wagons had been for some time audible in the streets, when a light team
stopped at the rear of Brown and Felger’s.
For ten minutes the driver, and the two persons inside this
establishment, were busy in removing rolls of goods to the wagon.
Then the door was closed, a key turned in it, and the driver and one
of the burglars entered the wagon, which drove away.
The bearer of the key moved hastily from the locality, in the opposite
direction.
But their retreat was not effected so easily as they had anticipated.
The pedestrian met the fate of his earlier companion, by feeling a hand
upon his shoulder, hearing a voice at his ear.
The men in the wagon tried to ride over the officer, who suddenly
clutched their horse by the head. But he held on vigorously, and two
more strong policemen sprung into the wagon, making them prisoners.
Inside of half an hour the three men were locked up in the same
station-house which had been graced by their comrade for several hours.
The wagon, with its spoils, was drawn into the yard of the police
head-quarters.
Mr. Leonard was at once sent for, as also the members of the firm
of Brown and Felger. They had been on the alert, and were at the
station-house before seven o’clock.
“Have you any witnesses whom you desire to present before we hear these
prisoners?” asked the police magistrate in attendance.
“Here is my principal witness,” said Mr. Leonard, as Will came in with
his usual easy swagger. “The officers who made these arrests are also
important witnesses. I would like to have Mr. Wilson here, if we have
time to send for him.”
“I have thought of that,” said the alderman, smiling. “Mr. Wilson will
be here. Officer, bring up the prisoners.”
In a few minutes the four men so lately captured were ushered into the
room.
“Mr. Wilson!” cried Mr. Leonard, in utter astonishment, as he gazed on
the pallid face of his confidential clerk, foremost among the prisoners.
“Jesse Powers!” cried Messrs. Brown and Felger, in a breath, and with
equal astonishment.
“Black-eyed Joe, the grog-shop keeper, and Tom Quinn, one of the worst
burglars in town,” cried Will. “It’s a pretty good haul.”
“But what does this mean?” asked the merchant, in a breath. “There is
some mistake here.”
“There isn’t as much mistake about it as you could cover with your
little finger,” said Will, pointing to the shrinking figures of the
prisoners. “I could have told you three weeks ago that Gus Wilson was
the man who was goin’ through you. I have these other chaps nailed,
too. There’s more of the party yet.”
Mr. Fitler now made his appearance, as also Will’s friend, Joe the
bootblack, whom he had notified to be present.
The magistrate proceeded to take evidence against the prisoners, but
contented himself with that of the officers who had captured them, of
Will, who recognized them as the men he had seen in the cellar, and the
silent testimony of the rolls of cloth, which were brought into the
room and identified by Mr. Leonard as his own property.
The four men were formally bound over for trial, and retired to their
cells, glad to escape the fire of accusing eyes.
“This evidence is very conclusive,” said the magistrate, “so far as
this single robbery is concerned. I presume you have other evidence
relating to the past burglaries?”
“I have evidence that Jesse Powers was connected with the custom-house
robbery, as also with forging my name at the bank,” said Mr. Leonard.
“Do you gentlemen recognize that handwriting?” he asked, handing the
scrap of the letter to his neighboring merchants.
“J. P.,” said Mr. Brown. “It is undoubtedly Jesse Powers. Who would
have dreamed of that man being such a villain? I hope he has not been
victimizing us in like manner.”
“You are safe enough,” said the detective. “He used your place as a
safe passageway for the removal of goods from Mr. Leonard’s. He and
Wilson between them have managed to remove those stones in the wall,
and make an unsuspected passage. Is your lower cellar much used?”
“No, scarcely any,” said Mr. Brown.
“They could easily then hide their work, by filling the cracks of the
stones with dirt after each operation.”
“Could have told you their game a week ago,” said Will, “only I
wanted to nail them. I was locked into the cellar once before, the
night I counted them Milton cloths. That’s why I was so particular
about counting. I seen some chaps at work that night. Follered them
down-stairs, but they gave me the slip afore I could track them. Didn’t
want to say nothing till I had another show at them.”
“It is a bad business about Mr. Elkton. I am very sorry that he was
thrown into prison,” said Mr. Leonard.
“He brought it all on himself by his obstinacy,” said the detective. “I
cannot understand now why he refused to explain his possession of that
silk.”
“He did it to screen his friend,” replied Mr. Leonard. “It seems that
this Jesse Powers saved his life once, and he would not inform on
him. He sent a message to him to come to the prison, hoping to get an
explanation of the matter, but Powers would not come.”
“There is some gratitude left in the world then,” said the officer.
“Elkton must be released at once, and an explanation of his conduct
published to put him right with the public.”
“But how about these silks?” said the elder man. “They have not yet
been sold. They must be in some hiding-place of the burglars.”
“And Joe and me know just where to put our hands on it,” said Will.
“Come up here, Joe, and tell the gentlemen what you seen.”
Joe, thus requested, began a long, rambling description of how Will had
come to him in the square. He detailed their talk, and went with great
prolixity through the whole story, till the time they discovered the
burglars in council. Will helped him with suggestions here and there,
and managed to dovetail his own story into that of his associate.
“This is a mighty important business,” cried Mr. Fitler, starting up.
“You boys are worth your weight in gold. We must investigate this house
at once. Can you point it out?”
“Yes, with my eyes shut.”
“Take a squad, Mr. Fitler, and go down and make a thorough search of
the place,” said the alderman, rapidly writing. “Here is your warrant.”
Within the next hour a squad of policemen marched into and took
forcible possession of Black-eyed Joe’s mansion.
The search instantly commenced, and was speedily successful. In one
of the upper rooms was a specially constructed, deep and wide closet.
The door of this being forced it was found to be packed full of goods,
among which were Mr. Leonard’s silks.
Wagons were produced and the goods sent to his store. Then, under the
leadership of the bootblack, Mr. Fitler proceeded to the lurking place
of the remaining burglar, whom he succeeded in arresting.