PART I--DETECTIVE STORIES FROM REAL LIFE

Arthur Train

A Flight into Texas

The flight and extradition of Charles F. Dodge unquestionably

involved one of the most extraordinary battles with justice in the

history of the criminal law. The funds at the disposal of those

who were interested in procuring the prisoner's escape were

unlimited in extent, and the arch conspirator for whose safety

Dodge was spirited away was so influential in political and

criminal circles that he was all but successful in defying the

prosecutor of New York County, even supported as the latter was by

the military and judicial arm of the United States Government.

For, at the time that Dodge made his escape, a whisper from Hummel

was enough to make the dry bones of many a powerful and ostensibly

respectable official rattle and the tongue cleave to the roof of

his mouth in terror.

(The District Attorney's office in New York City is undoubtedly one

of the best watch-towers known from which to observe "Real Life

Detective Stories."

Arthur Train, sometime member of this prosecuting staff, has

opportunity to record several of these curious and exciting "True

Stories of Crime" (copyright, 1908, by Charles Scribners Sons).

None yields less to fiction save in the fact that it is true, and

not at all in quality of dramatic interest, than "A Flight into

Texas," here given.

Readers of the newspapers a few years ago will remember the names

of Abraham Hummel and Charles F. Dodge. The latter, a railroad

conductor, was alleged to have committed perjury at the dictate of

the former, known as one of the brightest, least scrupulous lawyers

in this city. It was one of District Attorney Jerome's great

ambitions to bring Hummel to justice. Here was an opportunity. If

Dodge could only be forced to testify to this perjury before a

court, Hummel could undoubtedly be convicted of a crime that would

not only disbar him from the legal profession, but would put him in

jail.

Dodge had run away and disappeared as the storm seemed about to

burst. Where was he? Who could find and bring him back--against

Abe Hummel's wish?--EDITOR.)

Who could accomplish that in which the law was powerless?--Hummel.

Who could drive to the uttermost ends of the earth persons against

whom not a shadow of suspicion had previously rested?--Hummel. Who

dictated to the chiefs of police of foreign cities what they should

or should not do in certain cases; and who could, at the beckoning

of his little finger, summon to his dungeon-like offices in the New

York Life Building, whither his firm had removed from Centre

Street, the most prominent of lawyers, the most eminent of

citizens?--Surely none but Hummel. And now Hummel was fighting for

his own life. The only man that stood between him and the iron

bars of Blackwell's Island was Charles F. Dodge--the man whom he

had patted on the knee in his office and called a "Mascot," when

quite in the nature of business he needed a little perjury to

assist a wealthy client.

Hummel in terror called into play every resource upon which, during

forty years of practice, his tiny tentacles had fastened. Who

shall say that while he made a show of enjoying himself nightly

with his accustomed lightheartedness in the Tenderloin, he did not

feel confident that in the end this peril would disappear like the

others which had from time to time threatened him during his

criminal career? But Hummel was fully aware of the tenacity of the

man who had resolved to rid New York of his malign influence. His

Nemesis was following him. In his dreams, if he ever dreamed, it

probably took the shape of the square-shouldered District Attorney

in the shadow of whose office building the little shyster practiced

his profession. Had he been told that this Nemesis was in reality

a jovial little man with a round, ruddy face and twinkling blue

eyes he would have laughed as heartily as it was in his power to

laugh. Yet such was the fact. A little man who looked less like a

detective than a commercial traveler selling St. Peter's Oil or

some other cheerful concoction, with manners as gentle and a voice

as soft as a spring zephyr, who always took off his hat when he

came into a business office, seemingly bashful to the point of

self-effacement, was the one who snatched Charles F. Dodge from the

borders of Mexico and held him in an iron grip when every influence

upon which Hummel could call for aid, from crooked police

officials, corrupt judges, and a gang of cutthroats under the guise

of a sheriff's posse, were fighting for his release.

Jesse Blocher is not employed in New York County, and for business

reasons he does not wish his present address known. When he comes

to New York he occasionally drops into the writer's office for a

cigar and a friendly chat about old times. And as he sits there

and talks so modestly and with such quiet humor about his

adventures with the Texas Rangers among the cactus-studded plains

of the Lone Star State, it is hard, even for one who knows the

truth, to realize that this man is one of the greatest of

detectives, or rather one of the most capable, resourceful, adroit,

and quick-witted knights of adventure who ever set forth upon a

seemingly impossible errand.

It is unnecessary to state just how the District Attorney

discovered the existence of "Jesse," as we knew him. It is enough

to say that on Saturday morning, July 23, 1904, he was furnished

with the proper credentials and given instructions to proceed at

once to New Orleans, Louisiana, and "locate," if it were humanly

possible to do so, Charles F. Dodge, under indictment for perjury,

and potentially the chief witness against Abraham H. Hummel, on a

charge of conspiracy. He was told briefly and to the point that,

in spite of the official reports from the police headquarters of

both New York City and New Orleans to the contrary, there was

reason to believe that Dodge was living, although not registered,

as a guest at the St. Charles Hotel in the latter city. A partial

and inaccurate description of Dodge was given him and he was warned

to use extreme caution to prevent any knowledge of his mission from

being made known. Once Dodge had been discovered, he was to keep

him under surveillance and wire New York immediately.

Accordingly, Jesse left the city upon the same day at 4.45 P. M.

and arrived two days later, at 9.15 on Monday morning, at New

Orleans, where he went directly to the St. Charles Hotel,

registered, and was assigned to room Number 547 on the fifth floor.

Somewhere in the hotel Dodge was secreted. The question was how to

find him. For an hour Jesse sat in the hotel foyer and

meditatively watched the visitors come and go, but saw no sign of

his quarry. Then he arose, put on his hat, and hunted out a

stationery store where for two cents he bought a bright-red

envelope. He then visited a ticket-scalper's office, secured the

owner's business card, and wrote a note on its back to Dodge,

offering him cheap transportation to any point that he might

desire. Armed with this he returned to the hotel, walked to the

desk, glanced casually over a number of telegrams exposed in a rack

and, when the clerk turned his back, placed the note, addressed to

Charles F. Dodge, unobserved, upon the counter. The office was a

busy one, guests were constantly depositing their keys and

receiving their mail, and, even as Jesse stood there watching

developments, the clerk turned round, found the note, and promptly

placed it in box Number 420. The very simple scheme had worked,

and quite unconsciously the clerk had indicated the number of the

room occupied by Dodge.

Jesse lost no time in ascending to the fourth floor, viewed room

Number 420, returned to the desk, told the clerk that he was

dissatisfied with the room assigned him, and requested that he be

given either room Number 421, 423, or 425, one of which he stated

that he had occupied on a previous visit. After some discussion

the clerk allotted him room Number 423, which was almost directly

opposite that occupied by Dodge, and the detective at once took up

his task of watching for the fugitive to appear.

Within the hour the door opened and Dodge and a companion, who

subsequently proved to be E. M. Bracken, alias "Bradley," an agent

employed by Howe and Hummel, left the room, went to the elevator,

and descended to the dining-room upon the second floor. Jesse

watched until they were safely ensconced at breakfast and then

returned to the fourth floor where he tipped the chambermaid, told

her that he had left his key at the office, and induced her to

unlock the door of room Number 420, which she did under the

supposition that Jesse was the person who had left the chamber in

Dodge's company. The contents of the room convinced Jesse that he

had found Dodge, for he discovered there two grips bearing Dodge's

name as well as several letters on the table addressed to him. The

detective returned to the hall and had a little talk with the maid.

"The old gentleman with you has been quite sick," she said. "How

is he to-day?"

"He is some better," answered Jesse.

"Yes, he does look better to-day," she added, "but he sho'ly was

powerful sick yesterday. Why, he hasn't been out of his room befo'

fo' five or six days."

This statement was corroborated by Dodge's physical appearance, for

he looked haggard and worn.

Jesse was now confident that he had found Dodge, in spite of the

reports of the New Orleans police to the contrary, and he was also

reasonably sure that the fugitive was too sick to leave the hotel

immediately. He therefore telegraphed his superiors that he had

discovered Dodge and that the latter was ill at the St. Charles

Hotel.

At three o'clock in the afternoon Jesse received a wire from New

York as follows:

"New Orleans police department claims party not there. Left for

Mexico three weeks ago. Ascertain correct destination and wire at

once."

Jesse at once replied:

"No question as to identity and presence here at this time."

He now took up the task of keeping his quarry under absolute

surveillance day and night, which duty from that moment he

continued for a period of nearly ten months.

During the remainder of the afternoon and throughout the night

Dodge and Bracken remained in room Number 420, and during the

evening were visited by several strangers, including a plain-

clothes officer from the New Orleans Police Headquarters. Little

Hummel, dining in Long Acre Square in the glare of Broadway, was

pressing some invisible button that transmitted the power of his

influence even to the police government of a city two thousand

miles away.

The following day, January 26th, at about 8.40 in the morning,

Dodge and Bracken descended to the lobby. Bracken departed from

the hotel, leaving Dodge to pay the bill at the cashier's window

and Jesse heard him order a cab for the 11.30 A. M. Sunset Limited

on the Southern Pacific Railroad and direct that his baggage be

removed from his room. Jesse did the same.

In the meantime Bracken returned and promptly at 11 A. M. left for

the railroad station in a cab with Dodge. Jesse followed in

another. As the two passed through the gates the detective caught

a glimpse of Dodge's ticket and saw that it had been issued by the

Mexican National Railway. Retiring to the telegraph office in the

station he wired New York as follows:

"Bird flying.--Sunset Limited. Destination not known. I am with

him."

He then hastily purchased a ticket to Houston, Texas, and boarded

the train. Dodge's companion had bidden him good-by as the engine

started, and Jesse's task now became that of ferreting out Dodge's

destination. After some difficulty he managed to get a glimpse of

the whole of the fugitive's ticket and thus discovered that he was

on his way to the City of Mexico, via Eagle Pass, Texas, while from

the Pullman conductor he learned that Dodge had secured sleeping-

car accommodation as far as San Antonio, Texas, only.

So far all was well. He knew Dodge but Dodge did not know him, and

later on in the afternoon he had the satisfaction of a long talk

with his quarry in the observation car where they amiably discussed

together current events and argued politics with the same vehemence

as if they had been commercial travellers thrown fortuitously into

each other's company. Dodge, however, cleverly evaded any

reference to his destination.

When the train reached Morgan City, Louisiana, at 3 P. M., which

was the first stop, Jesse wired New York as follows:

"On Sunset Limited with friend. He has transportation to the City

of Mexico, via Eagle Pass, where I am now journeying with him.

Answer to Beaumont, Texas."

Later in the afternoon he sent an additional message from

Lafayette, Louisiana:

"Have seen transportation of friend and am positive of

destination."

Dodge was occupying Section 3 of the sleeping car "Capitola," and,

as became an invalid, retired early.

At Beaumont Jesse failed to receive any reply to his various

messages, and when the train arrived at Houston no word came from

New York until it was almost the time of departure. Waiting until

practically the last moment Jesse hurried through the gates of the

Union Station at Houston and bought a ticket to San Antonio. As he

was leaving the ticket window Night Chief of Police John Howard and

two officers came hurrying up inquiring anxiously for "Mr. Jesse."

The reenforcements had arrived.

Outside on the track "The Sunset Limited" was just getting under

way. The first frantic puffs were being vomited from the funnel.

Inside Dodge was sleeping peacefully in his berth. Jesse,

accompanied by Chief Howard, hurried up to the conductor who was

about to swing on to the steps of the sleeper, and ordered him to

hold the train till the fugitive could be removed. After some

argument the conductor grumblingly complied and Dodge was aroused

from pleasant dreams of the "Creole Quarter" to the cold reality of

being dragged out of bed by a policeman. He was unceremoniously

hustled out of the sleeping car into a carriage and taken to

Headquarters where he admitted his identity and remarked:

"I know what I am wanted for, but I will never return to New York."

In his grip was found the sum of $1,563.15, as well as numerous

letters from the law firm of Howe and Hummel, and a quantity of

newspaper clippings relative to his case.

Dodge pleaded with Chief Howard not to lock him up, urging that he

was a sick man and offering a goodly sum if he might be taken to a

hotel and guarded for the remainder of the night. But what "went"

in New Orleans did not "go" in Houston, and the best that Dodge

could get for himself was a cot in the "Ladies' Detention Room" on

the second floor of the jail.

Early the following morning Jesse visited Police Headquarters and

for the first time met George Ellis, Chief of Police of Houston,

for whom he will always have a feeling of deep gratitude for his

enthusiastic cooperation and loyalty in the many stirring events

that followed. Dodge now received a telegram from New York, which

was submitted to Jesse before reaching the prisoner, to the effect

that Howe and Hummel were sending on an attorney to aid the

fugitive in resisting extradition, and informing him that they had

employed Messrs. Hunt and Meyers as attorneys to look out for his

welfare. These last immediately jumped in medias res and on the

afternoon of the same day secured a writ of habeas corpus from

Norman J. Kitrell, District Judge of Harris County, Texas,

returnable the following morning.

The next day, January 28th, Kitrell released Dodge from custody.

Jesse had anticipated this and immediately swore out another

warrant with the result that the prisoner was rearrested before he

left the courtroom.

Meantime the Dodge interests retained another firm of lawyers,

Messrs. Andrews and Ball, who, on the following day, secured a

second writ of habeas corpus from Judge Ashe.

The result of the first engagement thus being a draw, counsel on

both sides agreed that this writ should not be returnable for six

days. During this period District Attorney Jerome employed Messrs.

Baker, Botts, Parker and Garwood to represent him and secured from

Governor Odell at Albany a requisition on Governor Lanham of Texas

for the extradition of the prisoner, which he entrusted to

Detective Sergeant Herlihy of the New York Police. Herlihy reached

Houston with the papers on the evening of January 30th, and on the

same train with him came Abraham Kaffenburgh, a member of the law

firm of Howe and Hummel and a nephew of the latter. Likewise also

came Bracken, still styling himself "E. M. Bradley," and from now

on Bracken was the inseparable companion, guide, philosopher, and

friend (?) of the unfortunate Dodge, whose continued existence upon

this earth had become such a menace to the little lawyer in New

York.

Herlihy, accompanied by Judge Garwood, proceeded direct to Austin

where they found Dodge already represented by Messrs. Andrews and

Ball who, at the hearing before Governor Lanham, made a strong

effort to induce that executive to refuse to honor the requisition

of the Governor of New York. This effort failed and Governor

Lanham issued his warrant, but Herlihy had no sooner returned to

Houston for the purpose of taking possession of the prisoner than

he was served with an injunction enjoining him, together with Chief

of Police Ellis, from taking Dodge into custody, pending a hearing

upon a new habeas corpus which had been issued by Judge Waller T.

Burns of the United States District Court for the Southern District

of Texas. This new writ was returnable February 9th.

After exhaustive but futile argument by the counsel for Dodge,

Judge Burns remanded the prisoner to Herlihy's custody to be

returned to the State of New York, but this decision had no sooner

been rendered than an appeal was taken therefrom by Dodge's

lawyers, and the prisoner released upon bail fixed at twenty

thousand dollars.

During this period Dodge was quartered under guard at the Rice

Hotel in Houston, and the day following the argument the twenty-

thousand-dollars bail was put up in cash and Dodge released from

custody.

In the meantime, however, Jesse, knowing that no sum, however

large, would deter Hummel from spiriting Dodge out of the country,

had made his arrangements to secure a new extradition warrant from

the Governor of Texas, so that if the prisoner did succeed in

getting beyond the Southern District of the Federal Court of Texas,

he could be seized and conveyed to New York.

Of course someone had to keep watch over Dodge while Jesse hurried

to Austin to see the Governor, and it was decided to leave Sergeant

Herlihy, re-enforced by a number of local detectives for that

purpose. But while the watchful Jesse was away, Bracken proceeded

to get busy in the good old Howe and Hummel fashion. Lots of

people that Herlihy had never seen before turned up and protested

that he was the finest fellow they had ever met. And as Herlihy

was, in fact, a good fellow, he made them welcome and dined and

wined at their expense until he woke up in the Menger Hotel in San

Antonio and inquired where he was.

Jesse meantime had returned from Austin to discover that Dodge with

his companions, Kaffenburgh and Bracken, had slipped out of Houston

early in the morning of February 11th, after disposing of Herlihy

and eluding the watchfulness of Herlihy's assistants. Hummel was

leading and by ten o'clock the next morning Dodge and his comrades

were on board an English merchantman lying in the harbor of

Galveston. Later in the same day the Hummel interests chartered

from the Southern Pacific Railroad for the sum of three thousand

dollars the sea-going tug Hughes, to which Dodge was now

transferred for the purpose of being conveyed to the port of

Tampico in the Republic of Mexico.

But here Hummel's wires became crossed with Jerome's, and

unfortunately for the little lawyer, the persons from whom the tug

had been leased turned out to be closely allied with the

prosecution's interests, with the result that the captain of the

tug was instructed by his superiors under no consideration to put

into any Mexican port, but on the contrary, to delay his departure

from the harbor of Galveston for a period of two days and then to

proceed only as far as Brownsville, Texas, where he should compel

the debarkation of the fugitive. The captain, who was a good sport

as well as a good officer, promptly threw himself into the part and

told Bracken and Kaffenburgh that it was evident from the barometer

that a severe storm was approaching (which must have had a sinister

implication to these two unfortunate gentlemen), and that he could

not think of putting to sea. Once the "storm" had blown over, the

tug started out across the blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico. But

now Bracken and Kaffenburgh were informed for the first time it was

impossible to consider putting into any port of the Republic of

Mexico, since to do so would cause international complications and

compel the revocation of the captain's license. In desperation the

Hummel interests offered the captain five thousand dollars in cash

to disregard his instructions and put into Tampico, but the worthy

sea-dog was adamant. It was probably worth five thousand dollars

to him to see three gentry of this pattern so much put about.

While Dodge and his accomplices were dallying in the harbor of

Galveston, Jesse was taking advantage of his opportunity to proceed

at once by railroad to Alice, Texas, which at that time was the

furthermost southern point reached by any railway in the direction

of Brownsville. On his arrival, he at once applied to Captain John

R. Hughes, commanding Company D of the Texas Rangers, who received

him with great joy and ordered a detachment of the Rangers to meet

the tug at Point Isabelle at the mouth of the Rio Grande River on

the border of Mexico. In the meantime, Jesse started on a toilsome

stage journey to Brownsville, across one hundred and seventy miles

of desert, which occupied two days and nights, and necessitated his

going without sleep for that period. During the trip Jesse heard

no word of English and had as his associates only Mexican

cattlemen. Every fifteen miles a fresh relay of broncos was

hitched to the stage and after a few moments' rest the misery began

again.

Jesse had been hurrying toward Brownsville by stage while Dodge,

Kaffenburgh, and Bracken were landing at Point Isabelle, where they

were kept under close surveillance by Sergeant Tom Ross of the

Rangers. Thence they took the train to Brownsville, registering at

the Miller House under the assumed names of C. F. Dougherty, A.

Koontzman, and E. M. Barker, all of Oklahoma. But, although they

knew it not, Sergeant Tom was at their elbow, and had Dodge

attempted to cross the border into Mexico he would instantly have

been placed under arrest.

As Brownsville was within the Southern District of the Federal

Court of Texas, Jesse decided not to arrest Dodge until he should

actually attempt flight, and when Dodge and his companions, on the

following morning, February 15th, entered the stage (the same upon

which Jesse had arrived) and started for Alice, Jesse and Tom Ross

procured the best horses they could find and started after them,

keeping just in sight of the stage. Dodge's intention in making

this move was to take the Mexican International Railway at Alice

and cross over to Mexico via Laredo.

Jesse and Ross covered the seventy-four miles from Brownsville to

Santa La Cruz Ranch by four in the afternoon, which was fairly

strenuous work for a New York detective, and here found themselves

so sore and exhausted from their ride that they were glad to hire a

pair of horses and buggy with which to complete the journey to

Alice. Luckily they were able to get into telephonic communication

with various ranch owners along the road and arrange to have fresh

relays of horses supplied to them every twenty miles, and here also

Jesse called up Captain Hughes at Alice, and suggested that he

substitute for the regular night clerk at the City Hotel one of the

privates of the Rangers by the name of Harrod.

Dodge and his companions arrived in Alice on February 17th, and, as

Jesse had anticipated, repaired at once to the City Hotel, where,

inasmuch as they were dry from the dust of their trip and depressed

by lack of society, they entered at once into an enthusiastic and

confidential friendship with the man behind the counter in the

hotel office, sublimely ignorant that they were unfolding to a

member of the Texas Rangers all their most secret intentions.

Harrod was just as glad to see Dodge as Dodge apparently was to see

Harrod, and kindly offered to assist the fugitive to get into

Mexico in any way that the latter desired. Dodge, for his part,

took advantage of his usefulness to the extent of requesting him to

purchase them railroad tickets, the plan being to leave Alice the

following morning for Monterey, Mexico. Three hours after the

stage bearing Dodge and his party pulled up at the City Hotel, Tom

Ross and Jesse drove in behind a pair of fagged-out broncos at two

in the morning. Jesse had had no sleep of any sort and no proper

nourishment for five days, and had just strength enough left to

drag himself up one flight of stairs and tumble into bed, from

which he did not emerge for many hours.

In the meantime day broke and Dodge, Kaffenburgh, and Bracken,

having breakfasted, drove comfortably down to the International

Railway Station and settled themselves in the smoker, but they had

no sooner given this direct evidence of their intention before

Captain Hughes entered and placed Dodge under arrest. The latter's

surprise may be appreciated when it is stated that from the time

the three had left Houston, they had no idea that they were being

followed and believed that they had completely foiled Jesse and his

assistants.

While Jesse had been chasing Dodge across the desert, his lawyers

had not been idle and had secured at Austin another extradition

warrant from Governor Lanham, who, on receiving news of the arrest,

promptly instructed Captain Hughes by wire to assume charge of the

prisoner and to deliver him into the hands of the New York officer

to be conveyed to New York.

There now began such a legal battle as the State of Texas had never

known. Hummel had been forced into his last ditch and was fighting

desperately for life. Through Kaffenburgh he at once applied for a

new writ of habeas corpus in Nueces County and engaged counsel at

Corpus Christi to assist in fighting for the release of the

prisoner. Precisely as Hummel had intended, Chief Wright of Nueces

rode into Alice and demanded the prisoner from Captain Hughes. As

Hummel had NOT intended, Captain Hughes refused to surrender the

prisoner and told Chief Wright to go to--well, he told him that he

intended to obey his commander-in-chief, the Governor of Texas.

On February 20th, Hummel, through Kaffenburgh, attempted to get

another writ of habeas corpus in Bee County, and promptly the Bee

chief came buzzing over and demanded Dodge, but to him Hughes

replied even as he had spoken to Wright.

Excitement in Alice had now reached such a pitch that Judge Burns,

of the Federal Court, in Houston, ordered United States Marshal

John W. Vann, of Alice, to assume charge of the prisoner. The

indomitable Hughes, however, paid no more attention to the United

States Marshal than he had to the local chiefs. But the situation

was so delicate and the clash of authority might so easily have

resulted in bloodshed that it was finally agreed by all parties

that the best thing to do was to have the prisoner returned to

Houston in the JOINT custody of Captain Hughes of the Rangers and

the United States Marshal.

Jesse, through his counsel, in proper course, made application to

forfeit Dodge's bond and remand him to jail, but the Hummel

attorneys finally induced the Court, on the plea that to confine

Dodge in jail would be detrimental to his already badly impaired

health, to permit the prisoner to go free on a greatly increased

bond, nevertheless restricting his movements to Harris County,

Texas.

While Jesse had fought a winning battle up to this point he was at

the end of his resources so far as the extradition of the prisoner

was concerned, for Dodge was now at liberty, pending the decisions

upon the habeas corpus proceedings of the United States Circuit

Court of Appeals at Fort Worth, and the United States Supreme Court

at Washington. But his orders were to BRING DODGE BACK TO New

York. Hence, with the aid of some new men sent him from the North,

he commenced an even closer surveillance of the prisoner than ever

before by both day and night.

Meantime Kaffenburgh departed for New York, fleeing from the wrath

of Judge Burns, who had issued a summons for him for contempt of

the Federal Court on the ground that he had induced Dodge to

attempt to jump his bond. In place of the blustering Kaffenburgh

was sent another member of the famous law firm of Howe and Hummel,

David May, an entirely different type of man. May was as mild as a

day in June--as urbane as Kaffenburgh had been insolent. He

fluttered into Houston like a white dove of peace with the

proverbial olive branch in his mouth. From now on the tactics

employed by the representatives of Hummel were conciliatory in the

extreme. Mr. May, however, did not long remain in Houston, as it

was apparent that there was nothing to be done by either side

pending the action of the courts, and in any event Dodge was

abundantly supplied with local counsel. The time had now come when

Hummel must have begun to feel that the fates were against him and

that a twenty-year term in state prison was a concrete possibility

even for him.

In the meantime, Dodge and Bracken had taken up their headquarters

at the Rice Hotel in the most expensive suite of rooms in the

house, a new scheme for getting the prisoner beyond the reach of

the New York courts apparently having been concocted. Dodge was

now indulged in every conceivable luxury and vice. He was plunged

into every sort of excess, there was no debauchery which Bracken

could supply that was not his and their rapid method of existence

was soon the talk of the county and continued to be so for ten long

months. There is more than one way to kill a cat and more than one

method of wiping out the only existing witness against a desperate

man striving to escape the consequences of crime.

Dodge's daily routine was somewhat as follows: He never slept at

his own hotel, but arose in the morning between ten and eleven

o'clock, when he was at once visited by Bracken and supplied with

numerous drinks in lieu of the breakfast for which he never had any

desire. At noon the two would have luncheon with more drinks. In

the afternoon they would retire to the poolrooms and play the

races, and, when the races were over, they would then visit the

faro banks and gamble until midnight or later. Later on they would

proceed to another resort on Louisiana Street where Dodge really

lived. Here his day may be said to have begun and here he spent

most of his money, frequently paying out as much as fifty dollars a

night for wine and invariably ending in a beastly state of

intoxication. It is quite probable that never in the history of

debauchery has any one man ever been so indulged in excesses of

every sort for the same period of time as Dodge was during the

summer and fall of 1904. The fugitive never placed his foot on

mother earth. If they were going only a block, Bracken called for

a cab, and the two seemed to take a special delight in making

Jesse, as Jerome's representative, spend as much money in cab hire

as possible. The Houston jehus never again experienced so

profitable a time as they did during Dodge's wet season; and the

life of dissipation was continued until, from time to time, the

prisoner became so weak from its effects that he was forced to go

under the care of a physician. A few days of abstinence always

restored his vitality and he would then start out upon another

round of pleasure.

During this period Jesse maintained a close and vigilant personal

espionage over the prisoner. For over ten months he slept less

than four hours each day, his fatigue being increased by the

constant apprehension of treachery among his own men, and the

necessity of being ever on the alert to prevent some move on the

part of the defense to spirit the prisoner away. During the summer

attempts were repeatedly made to evade the vigilance of Jesse and

his men and several desperate dashes were frustrated by them,

including one occasion when Bracken succeeded in rushing Dodge as

far as Galveston, where they were forced to abandon their design.

From time to time Bracken would disappear from Houston for a week

or ten days, stating on his return that he had been to New York,

after which there was invariably some new move to get the prisoner

away. Time and space prevent giving a detailed account of all the

marches and counter-marches that took place in this battle of wit

against wit.

In August, 1904, Bracken made one of his periodical visits to New

York, and when he returned sought out Jesse and said: "Blocher, you

might as well be a good fellow and get yours while you can. I mean

that Dodge is not going back to New York, even if it cost a million

dollars to prevent it." A few days later Bracken sent a gambler

named Warner to Jesse, who offered the latter thirty-five hundred

dollars to get "lost" long enough for the prisoner to slip over to

Mexico. Acting upon the advice of his attorney, Jesse encouraged

this attempt, under the belief that if he could get the Hummel

forces in the position of having attempted to bribe him the

prisoner's bail could then be forfeited and Dodge himself taken

into custody. Hummel became wary, however, and apparently

abandoned for the time the idea of bribery. Later on Bracken again

disappeared. On his return a marked change was noticeable in his

demeanor and Jesse observed that he was in constant consultation

with Dodge, from which the detective drew the inference that some

last desperate move was to be made towards the escape of the

prisoner.

On one occasion Jesse saw Bracken showing Dodge a map and some

drawings on paper, which so excited his suspicions that he followed

the two with unremitting assiduity, and within a day or two was

rewarded through Bracken's carelessness with an opportunity for

going through the latter's coat pockets in the billiard room. Here

he found a complete set of plans worked out in every detail for

spiriting the prisoner from San Antonio into Mexico during the

State Fair. These plans were very elaborate, every item having

been planned out from the purchase of tickets, and passing of

baggage through the customs, to hotel accommodation in the City of

Mexico and Tampico, and steamship tickets from Tampico to Europe.

The plan had been to secure permission from the Court for Dodge to

leave Houston long enough ostensibly to attend the fair at San

Antonio and to "lose" him during the excitement and crowded

condition of the city at that time.

It is, of course, needless to say that these plans were abandoned

when Bracken discovered that Jesse had been forewarned.

Almost immediately thereafter the Circuit Court of Appeals at Fort

Worth, Texas, decided one of the habeas corpus cases adversely to

Dodge, but it still permitted him to retain his liberty pending the

final determination of the questions involved by the Supreme Court

at Washington.

The Hummel forces were apparently losing hope, however, for early

in October another attempt was made to bribe Jesse. Bracken

entered his room one evening and informed him that he could get his

own price if he would only be a good fellow, and even went so far

as to exhibit a quantity of money which he stated was twenty-five

thousand dollars. The only result of this offer was to lead Jesse

to redouble his precautions, for he argued that the situation must

indeed be acute when such an offer could be deemed worth while.

Thereafter it was obvious that the revelry of Dodge and his

companions was on the increase. Accordingly Jesse added to his

force of assistants.

On December 2, 1904, Nathaniel Cohen, another member of the firm of

Howe and Hummel, arrived at Houston, and the next day the Supreme

Court at Washington decided the appeal in the habeas corpus against

the prisoner, who was at once ordered by Judge Burns into the

custody of United States Marshall William M. Hansen.

Things looked black indeed for Dodge and blacker still for Hummel.

How the little attorney, eating his midday lunch four thousand

miles away, at Pontin's restaurant on Franklin Street, must have

trembled in his patent leather boots! His last emissary, Cohen, at

once procured an assistant by the name of Brookman and with him

proceeded to Wharton County, Texas, where they secured a new writ

of habeas corpus and induced the local sheriff, one Rich, to swear

in a posse comitatus of one hundred men for the purpose of coming

to Houston to take the prisoner by force of arms out of the hands

of the United States Marshal.

This was one of the most daring and desperate attempts made in

recent years to frustrate the law. Jesse believes that the real

object of this posse was to precipitate a fight between themselves

and the Federal authorities. It is not inconceivable that in such

an event Dodge might either have escaped or been killed. The men

composing the posse were of the most desperate character, and

consisted largely of the so-called "feud factions" of Wharton

County, known as "The Wood Peckers" and "The Jay Birds." Jesse has

been informed, on what he regards as reliable authority, that this

move cost the Hummel forces fifteen thousand dollars and that each

member of the posse received one hundred dollars for his

contemplated services in the "rescue" of the prisoner. But civil

war, even on a small scale, cannot be indulged in without some

inkling of the facts becoming known to the authorities, and prior

to the receipt of the mandate of the Supreme Court, Judge Burns

ordered the prisoner removed to Galveston for safe keeping.

Thus the long, expensive, and arduous struggle came finally to an

end, for Judge Burns in due course ordered that Charles F. Dodge

should be conveyed to New York in the personal custody of the

United States Marshal and delivered by him to the New York

authorities "within the borders of that State." Such an order was,

of course, exceedingly unusual, if not almost unheard of, but it

was rendered absolutely necessary by the powerful influence and

resources, as well as the unscrupulous character, of those

interested in securing Dodge's disappearance.

In order to thwart any plans for releasing the prisoner by violence

or otherwise, and to prevent delay through the invoking of legal

technicalities, Hansen and Jesse decided to convey Dodge to New

York by water, and on the 16th of December the marshal and his five

deputies boarded a Mallory Line steamer at Galveston and arrived in

New York with their prisoner on the evening of December 23d.

Dodge reached New York a physical wreck. How he was induced to

tell the whole truth after he had pleaded guilty to the charge

against him is a story in itself. A complete reaction from his

dissipation now occurred and for days his life was despaired of.

Jesse, too, was, as the expression is, "all in," and the only

persons who were still able to appreciate the delights of New York

were the stalwart marshal and his boys, who for some time were

objects of interest as they strolled along Broadway and drank "deep

and hearty" in the cafes. To the assistants in the District

Attorney's office they were heroes and were treated as such.

How Dodge finally testified against Hummel on the witness stand has

already been told. As they say downtown, if Jerome had never done

anything else, he would have "made good" by locking up Abe Hummel.

No one ever believed he would do it. But Jerome never would have

locked up Hummel without Jesse. And, as Jesse says with a laugh,

leaning back in his chair and taking a long pull on his cigar, "I

guess I would not do it again--no, I WOULD not do it again for all

the money you could give me. The wonder is that I came out of it

alive." When the reader comes to think about it he will probably

agree with him.

P. H. Woodward

Adventures in the Secret Service of the Post-Office Department*

* The author of the pages that follow was chief special agent of

the Secret Service of the United States Post-Office Department

during pioneer and romantic days. The curious adventures related

are partly from his own observation, and partly from the notebooks

of fellow officers, operating in many sections of the Country.

The stories are true, although, of course, justice demands that in

some cases persons and places be usually disguised under fictitious

names.

The stories have interest not only for their exciting play of

honest wits against dishonest, but also for the cautions they sound

against believing things "too good to be true" from the pen of

strangers.

There is a class of post-office thieves who make a specialty of

rifling the registered letters that pass through their hands in

transit on journeys of greater or less length. Some of them have

managed operations very shrewdly, in the evident belief that they

had discovered an infallible method for doing the work and at the

same time escaping detection. Too late they generally learn by sad

experience that no patents can be taken out for the protection of

crime.

In this class of cases something tangible always remains to exhibit

the peculiar style of workmanship belonging to each; and it would

often surprise the uninitiated to learn how many traits of

character, what indexes of habit and vocation, can be picked up by

careful study of the minute points presented for inspection.

Unless, however, an agent cultivates a taste for thoroughness even

to details and trifles that might at first view appear utterly

insignificant, he will never succeed in interpreting the

hieroglyphics.

At intervals of two or three weeks, beginning in the summer of

1871, registered packages passing to and fro from Chicago to a town

in the interior of Dakota Territory, which for convenience will be

called Wellington,--though that was not its name,--were reported to

the department as rifled. As the season wore on, the complaints

increased in frequency. Under the old method of doing business at

headquarters, which often amounted practically to a distribution of

the cases about equally "among the boys," the agent stationed at

Chicago received most of them at first; then a part were sent to an

agent in Iowa; and as the number multiplied, Furay, at Omaha, was

favored with an occasional sprinkling. Under the present more

perfect system, great care is taken to group together all the

complaints growing out of each series of depredations, to locate

the seat of trouble by comparisons carefully made in the department

itself, and to give everything bearing on the subject to the

officer specifically charged with the investigation.

March came around before Mr. Furay found time to give personal

attention to this particular thief. He then passed over the route

to Wellington, eighty miles by stagecoach from the nearest railroad

station, with ten intermediate offices. All the packages remained

over night at Sioux City, Iowa, a fact sufficiently important to

invite close scrutiny; but the detective soon became satisfied that

he must look elsewhere for the robber. His suspicions were next

directed to another office, where also the mails lay over night;

but the postmaster bore a countenance so open and honest that he

too was eliminated from the problem.

He continued on to Wellington, skirmishing along the line, and

observing the faces of the postmasters; but these studies in

physiognomy threw no light on the mystery, as the officials of the

department on the route, though far removed from central

supervision, seemed to be all that their affectionate uncle at

Washington could wish. On the return trip the detective was

equally observant and equally perplexed. At that season the stage

stopped for the night at Hannibal; but there, likewise, the

postmaster shared the honest looks that seemed to prevail through

eastern Dakota.

Proceeding on, the passengers dined at Raven's Nest, where one

Michael Mahoney, Sr., kept a small store and the post-office,

running also--with the aid of a young son and a son-in-law--a farm.

The store was managed by Michael Mahoney, Jr., a married son, who

happened to be absent both when the special agent went up and when

he returned. The face of the old man indicated that he was

vicious, ignorant, and unscrupulous; but clearly he was not sharp

enough to execute nice work like that under investigation.

With the exception of a general knowledge of the offices, the

special agent returned but little wiser for the trip, and

concluded, as the best that could be done under the circumstances,

to allow the bird to flutter a little longer before renewing the

hunt. Meanwhile the thief grew more reckless, and the papers that

came to Mr. Furay, though covering a fraction only of the

depredations, located the thief on the lower end of the route,

within fifty miles of the terminus.

During the summer one or two other agents took up the matter

cursorily, but made no discoveries. In the meantime Mr. Furay was

kept too busily occupied with a succession of important cases in

Nebraska to give much thought to the outlying territory of Dakota.

At length, in September, he went carefully over the papers that had

accumulated during his late prolonged absences, and soon knew

exactly where to look for the chap who had so long plundered the

public with impunity.

For some time Chicago had been closing registered package envelopes

with wax, which, on this route at least, effectually secured them

against molestation. Imitating the example, Camden, Dakota, began

to do the same; but, having no seal suitable for the purpose,

improvised a substitute by using the flat surface of a rasp.

Camden placed the wax near each end of the envelope, which

materially interfered with the game of the thief, because it was

just here that he operated. Evidently piqued that a rural

postmaster should presume to outwit him, he studied hard to devise

some means for opening these particular packages without leaving

such traces of his handiwork as would attract the notice of other

officials through whose hands they might subsequently pass. The

effort was crowned with a measurable degree of success, for Mr.

Furay, at the general overhauling referred to, was the first to

discover that the seal had been tampered with.

As it was necessary to break one of the seals, the object of the

robber was to restore it as nearly as possible to its original

appearance; and to effect this he used a dampened thimble, rolling

it over the wax while the latter was hot. There was but one

envelope of the kind in the lot, but it told the whole story to the

eye that could penetrate its meaning. As the thimble passed along

the edge, it left the mark of the rim, then a smooth, narrow band,

followed by pointed elevations closely resembling continuous lines,

thus:

========

--------

........

........

On the opposite side of the same seal the wax flattened out so as

to cover a good deal of surface; and, to give it the desired

appearance, the manipulator resorted to the thimble again, but this

time USED A DIFFERENT ONE, the indentations on the surface being

perceptibly finer and more shallow.

The violation of that single seal betrayed the thief, for the

detective at once inferred that the job was done in a store where

the operator had access to a variety of thimbles. Only one was

required; and no person but a merchant would be likely to have more

than one within convenient reach. In a store, however, it would be

natural to take down a boxful, and place it on the counter, to be

selected from at random. One is picked up, used, and thrown back.

The operator now finds another spot that requires attention, and

without waiting to hunt for the thimble that has already served as

a seal,--for the wax is cooling and no time must be lost,--grasps

the first that comes to hand, too absorbed in the main issue to

give a thought to what would pass as an insignificant subsidiary

trifle. No rascal is sharp enough to guard every point,--a general

fact that illustrates over and over again, in the experience of

man, the seminal truth that in a mercenary and physical as well as

in a high and spiritual, sense there is neither wisdom nor profit

outside of the limits of absolute integrity and unflinching

uprightness.

The detective laid aside the papers with a light heart, knowing

that at last he was complete master of the situation. Below Camden

on the infested route the post-office was kept in a store at two

points only, and in one of those no thimbles were sold. The clew

pointed unerringly to Raven's Nest as the spot where alone the

requisite conditions to account for the imprint on the violated

seal were to be found. Thither the officer accordingly went; and

the moment his eye rested on Michael Mahoney, Jr., he recognized

the heaven-branded features of a thief.

Returning to Sioux City, he telegraphed to another agent, who had a

large number of the cases growing out of the robberies, to come on

at once. The two men took stations, one on each side of Raven's

Nest, and in thirty hours they arrested the youthful criminal, who

in the interval stole four decoy letters, and paid a portion of the

contents to one of the officers who was testing him.

Mr. Furay collected from the thief and his relatives the full

amount stolen from the mails during the entire continuance of the

depredations, restoring the money to the rightful owners dollar for

dollar. Young Mahoney made a written confession, supplemented by

three or four codicils relating to items which, to use his own

language, "at first did not to me occur." He was tried the

following February, and sentenced to the penitentiary for the term

of three years.

Within fifteen days from the time when the doors of the prison were

closed upon the son, the villainous old father, acting perhaps on

the theory that no two shots ever strike in exactly the same place,

began also to rob the mails. In due time Mr. Furay again appeared

on the scene and took the old reprobate away a prisoner. When the

trial came on, a material witness for the prosecution happened to

be absent, the lack of whose testimony proved fatal to the case,

for after hanging a day and a night, the jury brought in a verdict

of acquittal.

AN ERRING SHEPHERD

The ingenuity and perseverance of the fraternity of swindlers is

only equaled by the gullibility and patience of their dupes.

During the flush times that followed the war, immense fortunes were

suddenly acquired by a class of cheats who operated on the

credulity of the public through gift enterprises, lotteries, and

other kindred schemes. Most of the large concerns established

their headquarters in New York City, flooding the entire country,

particularly the South and West, with lithographic circulars,

written apparently with the pen for the exclusive benefit of the

recipient, and showing how fortunes could be securely made by

remitting specified sums to the houses in question. Some of the

bogus firms simply pocketed the cash of correspondents without

pretending to render any equivalent whatever; while others, no more

honest, but a little more politic, sent forth worthless jewelry and

other stuff by the bushel.

One of the most villainous and at the same time successful devices

was built up on the offer of counterfeit currency at a heavy

discount. In substance, the circulars, emanating from different

parties, and from the same parties under different names, were all

alike. They usually began with an insidious compliment to the

person addressed, to the effect that from trustworthy sources the

writer had heard of him as a man of more than ordinary capacity and

shrewdness, and, emboldened by the high estimate placed upon his

abilities by persons well qualified to judge, had selected him as

the very individual to aid in securing a fortune for both with

"absolute safety." The circular usually goes on to state that the

writer is a first-class engraver,--indeed "one of the most expert

in the United States,"--while his partner is a first-class printer.

Hence the firm possess unrivaled facilities for imitating the

national currency. The recipient is particuarly cautioned to

beware of a class of miscreants who infest the city of New York and

advertise throughout the country the goods that he manufactures,

but send nothing except rubbish. The "original Doctor Jacobs"

excoriates unmercifully the whole tribe of swindlers whose

rascalities debauch and bring odium upon the trade. He exhorts the

gentleman of great reputed "shrewdness and sagacity" to observe the

utmost caution in conducting operations, and gives him explicit

directions how to forward the purchase-money.

Several years ago a preacher of the gospel, stationed not far from

the northern frontier of the republic, received by mail one of the

seductive missives of Ragem & Co., of New York City. The douceur

opened with the usual complimentary references to the peculiar

personal fitness of the clergyman for the proposed enterprise, and

went on to state that, in exchange for genuine greenbacks, Ragem &

Co. would furnish in the proportion of fifty to one imitations so

absolutely perfect that the most experienced bank officers could

not distinguish the difference. Rev. Zachariah Sapp,--for such was

the euphonious name of the preacher,--after an attentive perusal of

the flattering proposal, deposited the document in his coat-pocket

for convenience of reference. Having pondered the subject for a

day or two, he decided to write to Ragem & Co. for more explicit

information.

Divining with the peculiar instinct of the guild the character of

the fish now nibbling at the naked hook, the cheat resolved to risk

a little bait, and accordingly sent by return mail a genuine one-

dollar note, with a written invitation both for a reply and a

personal conference.

Never before did the Rev. Zachariah Sapp subject a piece of paper

to such scrutiny. Both with the naked eye and with a microscope,--

a relic of collegiate days,--he studied the engravings and filigree

work. Detail by detail he compared the supposed imitation with

bills of known genuineness without being able to discover the

slightest point of variation between them. Paper, printing, and

engraving seemed to be absolutely perfect. While the study was

progressing, the imagination of the clergyman soared through the

empyrean of dazzling expectations. Why continue to toil hard for a

small pittance when the golden apples were hanging within easy

reach? Why drag out an existence in penury when wealth and its

joys were thrust upon him?

Zachariah, however, was prudent and thrifty--indeed rather more

thrifty in the estimation of parishioners than befitted one who

held by right of faith a title-deed to mansions in the skies.

Almost as soon would he risk his future inheritance as peril on a

doubtful venture the few hundred dollars snugly saved up for a wet

day by prudence and economy.

Not willing to rely entirely on his own judgment, he rather

reluctantly decided to call on a banker in an adjacent town, with

whom he enjoyed a slight acquaintance. In thinking the matter over

he was greatly perplexed to determine how to introduce the subject.

Of course it would not answer to allow the cashier to fathom his

secret purpose, and yet he was oppressed with a vague consciousness

that only a translucent film hid his thought from the world. Once

or twice, in driving over on the unfamiliar errand, weak and

irresolute he half resolved to turn back, but greed finally

prevailed, and he kept on to the village.

With a strong but unsatisfactory effort to appear at ease, he

sauntered into the bank. After the usual interchange of greetings,

he nervously remarked, "Brother Hyde, as I was coming this way to-

day to call on Brother Tompkins, I have taken the liberty to drop

in to ask you a question on a matter in your line."

"Very well," replied the banker, "I shall be happy to serve you."

"I had a transaction a few days ago," resumed the clergyman, "with

a peddler,--an entire stranger to me,--who, in making change, gave

me a number of bills which I have reason to suspect are

counterfeits. I desire your opinion."

"Please let me see them," said Mr. Hyde.

He took the one-dollar note from the hand of the unfaithful pastor,

and after scanning it a moment, inquired, "What is the matter with

it?"

"Is it good?" queried the anxious owner.

"I wish I had my safe full of the same sort," answered the banker.

"There is nothing bad about the bill. What makes you think so?

Perhaps you have shown me the wrong one. Let me see the others."

"I must have left the rest at home," replied the preacher, fumbling

among the compartments of the pocket-book.

Having accomplished the object of his mission without perpetrating,

as he thought, any disastrous blunder, Mr. Sapp brought the

interview to a close with a few commonplace remarks, and hurried

away to enjoy in solitary self-communion the thick-crowding visions

of future affluence.

With the last doubt satisfactorily overcome, the plans of the

prospective millionaire rapidly took shape. He could raise five

hundred dollars, which at the proposed rate of interchange would

purchase twenty-five thousand of the "absolutely perfect

imitations." The sum seemed vast--incalculable. His imagination,

hitherto bound down by the narrow circumstances of remote rural

life, staggered while trying to grasp the conception of so much

wealth. Like the mysteries of time and space, it appeared too

grand for comprehension. Then his reveries strayed into another

channel. What noble fellows were Ragem & Co. Why, among forty

millions of people, did they pick out him, an unknown clergyman,

living in an obscure place hundreds of miles from the metropolis,

to be the favored recipient of untold wealth? Surely, this is a

special Providence. Not a sparrow falleth to the ground without

His knowledge. He watches over his own. Suddenly the erring

clergyman feels a terrible pull at his heart-strings. What right

has he, about to betray a sacred trust, and engage in operations

branded as infamous by the laws of the land, to claim the watchful

care of Providence? Will not the all-seeing eye follow him? Will

not the omnipotent hand strike him heavily in wrath? The poor man

wipes the cold perspiration from his forehead, and wonders if it

will pay.

But he has paltered too long, and now the devil claims him for his

own.

Returning home, Sapp wrote to Ragem & Co., stating the amount of

his available resources, and saying that upon a given day and hour

he would meet them at the appointed rendezvous. On the following

Sunday the congregation were startled at the close of the afternoon

services by an extraordinary announcement from the pulpit.

Before pronouncing the benediction the pastor said: "I take this

opportunity to communicate to you collectively a piece of personal

intelligence which I have hitherto kept secret. Under the will of

a relative who recently died in the State of Michigan, I inherit a

large sum--to me, with my humble wants, a very large sum. By

appointment, I am to meet the executor of the estate this week in

New York City to receive the first installment of the legacy. I do

not propose to leave you, my dear parishioners, but to remain among

you and toil with you as I have done for so many years. A goodly

portion at least of my inheritance I intend to invest in this

community, that neighbors and friends may share jointly in my

prosperity. I trust I may be guided to make a wise use of the

talents thus unexpectedly, and I may say providentially, committed

to my keeping. We know from the teachings of Scripture that wealth

brings great responsibilities, and that we shall be held to a

strict account for the manner in which we employ it. May your

prayers go with me."

The congregation crowded around the pastor with congratulations.

Particularly demonstrative were the ebullitions of two or three

brothers who saw a chance of exchanging sundry unsalable

possessions for slices in the inheritance.

Mr. Sapp reached New York City in the evening, and the momentous

interview was to take place at an early hour the next day. Sleep

came in brief and fitful snatches. But the stars roll on in their

majestic spheres, regardless of mortal hopes and fears. At length

day broke, when the preacher rose from bed anxious and unrefreshed.

A little before the appointed time he proceeded to a certain

building, and having mounted two flights of stairs, saw the magic

number on the door in front of him. As the clock struck he

entered. Agreeably to a preconcerted plan, he wiped the right

corner of his mouth with a white handkerchief, and nodded three

times. The only person in the room, a well-dressed and apparently

affable gentleman, responded by wiping the left corner of his mouth

with a red silk handkerchief, and nodding three times. The signal

is correctly answered: it is he! So far all works beautifully,

with every promise kept. The bill was a perfect imitation, the

engraver is on hand to a second.

"Two truths are told,

As happy prologues to the swelling act

Of the imperial theme."

The fellow passing under the name of Ragem & Co. welcomed the new

arrival cordially. "Ah," said he "your promptness and

circumspection show that I am not disappointed in my man. I see

that you come up to the full measure of my expectations. Do you

know I am a remarkable judge of character? In fact, I seldom or

never make a mistake. We are both in luck."

"I was trained to punctuality from early youth," replied the

preacher; and proceeding directly to business, without further

circumlocution, continued, "I succeeded in raising five hundred

dollars, which entitles me under the agreement to twenty-five

thousand."

From an inner pocket, after removing a number of pins, he produced

six one hundred dollar notes, saying, by way of explanation, "For

greater security I converted my funds into bills of large

denomination. One I reserve for contingencies; the other five are

for you."

"Your money is here in the safe," said Ragem, taking the five

notes, and turning toward the safe as if to unlock it. But the

scoundrel evidently reasoned that it would be silly to remain

content with the five when he could just as easily capture the

sixth.

Walking back, he remarked, "I want to show you that my large bills

are just as perfect as the small ones"; and, as if for purposes of

comparison, he took the remaining note from the hand of the

clergyman.

At this moment began a fearful knocking on a side door, that

threatened the speedy demolition of the frail barrier. "Run, run,"

whispered Ragem, as if in the extremity of terror, "the police are

on us."

The preacher needed no second invitation, fear of exposure giving

wings to his feet. Almost at a bound he cleared the two flights of

stairs and emerged into the street, walking several blocks, and

turning a number of corners before he dared to look back.

The bona fide occupant of the room where these parties met had no

share whatever in the nefarious transactions carried on there.

Through the treachery of the janitor, Ragem was permitted at

certain hours to make use of the apartment for the purpose of

keeping appointments with his victims. A confederate stationed on

the outside delivered the knocks as soon as customers were plucked

and it became desirable to get rid of their company. Occasional

hints of improper practices reached the ear of the real lessee, but

these had never yet taken such shape as to give a decisive clew to

the trouble, dupes for the most part pocketing their losses in

silence.

After an interval of two or three hours Mr. Sapp plucked up courage

to return. Having mounted the stairs, he entered the room warily.

His late partner was not there. A stalwart gentleman, who seemed

to be the proprietor, 1ooked up inquiringly, and was not a little

puzzled when the visitor supplemented the performance of wiping the

right corner of his mouth by three deliberate nods. "What can I do

for you to-day?" inquired the gentleman, rising.

"You are, I presume, a partner of Mr. Ragem," answered Sapp. "I

see he is out. Our business this morning was unfortunately

interrupted by the police, and I have returned to complete it."

"What business?" asked the proprietor, in undisguised astonishment.

Now the preacher made the very natural mistake of supposing that

the surprise manifested by his interlocutor was a mere matter of

policy and caution. Hence he proceeded to explain. "Ragem must

have told you. I am the gentleman who gave him the five hundred

dollars, and he said that my twenty-five thousand were locked up in

the safe."

The proprietor did not wait to hear more, but seizing the

affrighted creature by the collar, thundered forth, "I have heard

of you before. You are the villain, are you, who has been turning

my office into a den of thieves? I have caught you at last!"

Awaking to a partial comprehension of the situation, the poor

wretch stammered forth, "There must be some mistake. My name is a--

is a--is a Smith--Smith--John Smith."

"John Smith, is it?" growled the proprietor. "Well, all I have to

say is, John Smith, if not the biggest is the most numerous rascal

in the city. John, come along to the police station."

And John went, billows of trouble rolling over him as the waters of

the Red Sea closed over Pharaoh. Vain the effort to recall

consolatory texts pertinent to the occasion! He was sorely

chastened indeed, but the stripes were inflicted not in love but in

wrath. He mourned, yet whence could he look for comfort?

To avoid a worse fate, the prisoner revealed his identity,

exhibited the correspondence from "Ragem & Co.," and made a full

statement of the facts. The painful news reached the church

shortly after the return of the pastor, when his pulpit career came

to an ignominious end. He soon removed to the far West, hoping to

bury his disgrace in the shades of the primeval forest.

The fall of Rev. Zachariah Sapp sounds a note of warning not

without its lessons. The only safety in dealing with temptation is

to repel its insidious approaches from the outset. Whoever listens

in patience to the siren whisper is half lost already. Human

experience abundantly confirms the divine wisdom of the command,

"Get thee behind me, Satan," as the one sole safe way of meeting

evil advances. At the close of well-spent, useful lives, myriads

can thank a kind Providence, not that they have been stronger than

others who have turned out differently, but that they have been

tried less. Walking among unseen perils, none can without danger

of ruin discard even for a moment the armor of honesty and truth.

AN ASPIRANT FOR CONGRESS

A few years ago, the "Hon." John Whimpery Brass, of Georgia, one of

the "thoughtful patriots" of the period, who now and then found

time to lay aside the cares of statecraft to nurse little private

jobs of his own, allured by the seductive offers of "Wogan & Co."

of New York City, wrote to that somewhat mythical concern proposing

to become their agent for the circulation of the "queer." Even

after receiving the first installment of their wares, the honorable

gentleman did not comprehend that the firm dealt exclusively in

sawdust, not in currency. He wrote again, complaining that, after

a journey of sixty miles over a rough road to the nearest reliable

express office, he found nothing but a worthless package, marked

"C. O. D.," awaiting him. Did Wogan & Co. distrust either his

parts or fidelity? He ventured to assert that no man in the State

could serve them so effectually. He had just run for Congress, and

though beaten at the polls by "fraud," intended to contest the seat

with the chances of success in his favor. The mountaineers among

whom he lived did not care whether the money in their pockets was

good or bad so long as it circulated. He could put thousands of

counterfeits afloat without the slightest fear of detection. His

constituency believed in him and would stand by him. Currency was

very scarce in that congressional district, and it would really be

doing his people a great favor to give them more. After setting

forth the mutual benefits to accrue from trusting him, he appealed

to Wogan & Co. with the vehemence and energy of the sewing-machine

man, or life-insurance agent, to send on the goods without further

delay. They should never regret dealing with him, his character

and standing being a sufficient guaranty that he could not play

false. He was acting in good faith, and expected like treatment in

return.

Unfortunately for the political aspirations of "Hon." John Whimpery

Brass, the authorities not long after made a descent upon the den

of Wogan & Co., finding a great many letters from credulous fools,

and a large supply of sawdust--their only stock in trade. The

missives of the prospective congressman were published, thus

gaining much more extensive currency than he proposed to give to

the imitation greenbacks. It was supposed that the noisy fellow

would slink away to some cave in his native mountains, and never

show his brazen face among honest people again. But the impudence

of "Hon." John Whimpery Brass rose to the level of the emergency.

Instead of hiding or hanging himself, he published a card

representing that he embarked in the scheme for the purpose of

entrapping Wogan & Co. and bringing them to justice.

Pathetic was the spectacle, showing the confidence of an ingenuous

soul in its own prowess, of the volunteer detective, digging

parallels on the southern spurs of the Blue Ridge for the capture

of the wily swindler a thousand miles away! Armed with a kernel of

corn, the doughty gosling sets forth to catch the wicked fox that

is preying on the flock! If the bold mountaineers, the

constituency of "Hon." John Whimpery Brass, cannot commend the

discretion displayed by the projector of the enterprise, they must

certainly admire his pluck. In face of the odds, few goslings

would volunteer.

Perhaps the card might have been accepted by the more trustful

class of adherents as a satisfactory explanation of the letters,

had not the aspiring statesman in course of time fallen under the

ban of the law for defrauding widows of their pensions, the

campaign against Wogan & Co. having so completely exhausted the

virtue of the amateur who planned it as to leave no residue to

fructify in subsequent operations.

THE FORTUNE OF SETH SAVAGE

At one time the bogus-lottery men drove a thrifty business, but the

efforts, virtually co-operative, of the post-office department and

of the legislatures of the older states, have latterly pretty

effectually forced them into the wilderness. The managers forage

on the same class of people as the sawdust swindlers, procuring

lists of names in the same way. A common method of procedure is to

inclose with advertisements announcing the prizes, together with

the place and date of drawing, one or more tickets duly numbered.

Great confidence is expressed in the personal fitness of the party

addressed, who is requested to act as agent for the sale of the

tickets. A few weeks later another letter is sent to the intended

victim, informing him that the ticket of a given number forwarded

to him at such a date had drawn a prize, the value of which is

variously stated from a few hundred to many thousand dollars. He

is then requested to send immediately ten dollars--more or less--

for the ticket, perhaps ten or twenty more for additional charges,

when the full face value of the prize will be forwarded promptly by

express, check on New York, or in any other way the recipient may

direct. He is also told to antedate the letter, the intermediary

promising to blur the postmark to correspond, so that the

remittance may appear to have been made prior to the drawing. In

conclusion the writer adroitly suggests that he desires the

fortunate man to exhibit the money to his neighbors, stating how he

obtained it, and mentioning particularly the address of the agent

from whom the ticket was purchased, the object being to create an

excitement in the place with a view to large sales for the next

drawing.

Even of a trick as transparent as this the victims are counted by

thousands, exposures and warnings being alike disregarded. The

infatuation of a certain class of ignorant and credulous people is

well illustrated by the case of Seth Savage, a poor man possessed

of a few acres in the vicinity of a small village in Vermont. One

day, when a special agent of wide experience happened to be

visiting the post-office, Seth received a letter, the perusal of

which threw him into a frenzy of excitement.

"What is the matter?" inquired the postmaster. "You seem to have

good news."

"Look a-here," replied Seth, holding forth the missive in his

shriveled and bony fingers, "for nigh on to sixty-five year, Mr.

Martin, I've fit and work'd and work'd and fit jest for my vittles

and drink. Neow when I'm tew old tew 'joy it, a fortin comes to

me."

"Is that so?" answered Mr. Martin. "I am very glad; but tell me,

what is it? Your neighbors will all be glad to hear of your good

luck."

"Read that," said Seth, handing him the letter triumphantly.

The postmaster read the manuscript. One Dewitt of New York City

assured Mr. Savage that a certain ticket sent to him a month before

had drawn a prize of three thousand dollars; that on receipt of

thirty-five dollars in a letter antedated according to directions,

the full amount would be forwarded to him.

"Surely, Seth," expostulated the postmaster, "you are not going to

be fooled in this way. Dewitt is a humbug, a swindler."

"Neow, heow dew yeou know that?" inquired Seth. "Has he ever

fool'd yeou?"

"I don't deal with that sort of people," replied Mr. Martin mildly.

"I dislike to see anyone wronged, especially a neighbor. Here is a

gentleman who knows all about such matters." And Seth was formally

introduced to the special agent, who took pains to explain the

character of the swindle fully.

The officer left the village with the pleasant assurance that his

brief visit had contributed at least toward the rescue of one poor

object from the jaws of the devourer.

After all, however, Seth was not convinced. By selling his only

cow he managed to swell his scanty stock of cash to the requisite

sum, which he sent to Dewitt, fully expecting to be able in a few

days to confound the postmaster by the actual display of his newly

gotten wealth. The dupe, who had invested a goodly portion of his

scanty means in the venture, waited long if not patiently. At

length, after the expiration of the last hope, Mr. Martin inquired,

"How did it happen, Seth, that you threw away your money on that

lottery scamp, when we showed you that the whole thing was a

cheat?"

"Wall, neow, arter it's all lost," replied Seth, "I'll tell yeou

jest heow 'twas. Human natur' is naturally suspectin'. I tho't

yeou and that ar' t'other postoffis fellah want'd to git the prize

for yeourselfs; an' I didn't mean to be beat so."

A WISH UNEXPECTEDLY GRATIFIED

When the bogus-lottery men were driven out of the large cities by

the vigor of the postal authorities, they tried for a while to

operate from small country towns by collusion with dishonest

postmasters. As the delinquencies of the offenders were

successively brought to light, their heads rolled into the basket

at the foot of the official guillotine. The swindlers, however,

succeeded in bribing fresh victims, and for a time cunning and

duplicity managed with tolerable success to maintain a foothold

against the power of the department.

Among other similar swindles, sealed circulars were at one time

scattered broadcast over the more remote states, announcing that on

a given date the drawing for a series of magnificent prizes would

take place at Livingston Hall, No. 42 Elm Avenue, Wington Junction,

Connecticut. Patrons were urged to remit the purchase-money for

tickets promptly, as there would be no postponement of the grand

event under any circumstances. "Fortune," continued the glittering

advertisement, "knocks once at every one's door, and she is now

knocking at yours."

As usual, multitudes swallowed the bait, but some, instead of

sending the greenbacks to Highfalutin & Co., forwarded the

circulars to the department. Thereupon special agent Sharretts was

instructed to visit Wington Junction, with the view of learning

whether the postmaster was properly discharging his duties. Taking

an early opportunity to perform the mission, he alighted at the

station one morning, and proceeded to survey the town, which

consisted of four or five houses scattered along the highway for a

distance of half a mile. "Livingston Hall" and "Elm Avenue" were

nowhere visible. It was apparent that "No. 42" on any avenue was a

remote contingency not likely to arise in the present generation.

Having previously ascertained that the postmaster was also switch-

tender at the junction, and that the cares of the office devolved

on his wife, the officer walked up to a keen-looking man in front

of the little round switch-house, whose energies were devoted

exclusively at that moment to the mastication of a huge quid of

tobacco, and who, after a prolonged scrutiny of the stranger,

answered his salutation in an attenuated drawl,' "Meornin', sir."

"Will you be kind enough to tell me, sir, where Mr. Morris, the

postmaster, can be found?" asked the agent.

"Wall, I guess my name's Morris. What kin I do fur yeou?"

"Mr. Morris, I should like a few minutes' private conversation on

business of great importance, which can be so managed as to turn

out advantageously to us both. I do not wish to be overheard or

interrupted. In these times even blank walls have ears, you know."

The last suggestion seemed to serve as a passport to the confidence

of the postmaster. Leading the way into the switch-house, he

remarked, "Come in heear. Neow, what is it?"

"The fact is, Mr. Morris, some friends of mine propose to go into a

little speculation, which will involve a large correspondence; and

for reasons that I need not specify to a man like you, they do not

wish to have every ragtag, bobtail post-office clerk poring over

their letters, and asking impertinent questions at the delivery-

window. If they can find a shrewd, square man, who knows how to

keep his mouth shut, and who can't be fooled, that for a handsome

consideration will put the letters away in a safe place till called

for, they are willing to make an arrangement that will be

profitable all around. You have been recommended as just the

person. I am told that you generally know which side your bread is

buttered, and have called to see if we can't arrange to pull

together."

"'Nuff said," ejaculated Morris, with a sly wink. "I know what

yeou want, but my wife is the one to fix things. I don't have

nuthin' to dew with the letters. Sue 'tends to everything. The

folks as we'se a-workin' for said we must be plaguey keerful about

the deetecters. I'll bet nun on 'em can't play it on my wife tho'.

If they dew, they'll have to git up arly in the mornin'."

With that he thrust his head out of the window, and yelled: "Sue,

Sue!"

As the sound died away, a tall, raw-boned female, from whose cheeks

the bloom of youth had faded a number of years before, emerged from

the side door of a two-story cottage, about eighty rods distant,

and walked briskly to the switch-house, where she was introduced to

the stranger as "my wife."

After a little preliminary skirmishing, she invited the agent to go

over to the cottage. Having been duly ushered into the "best

room," he embellished for her benefit the story already told to the

husband.

"I think I kin 'commodate yeou," she broke forth, "but yeou'll have

to pay putty well for't. Laws me, I'm told--and I've ways o'

heerin' 'bout these things--that the deetecters are jest as likely

as not to come a-swoopin' deown enny minnit. Yeou know, if they

feound it out, we'd be smash'd."

Her terms were ten dollars a week. Highfalutin & Co. paid six, but

she understood the business a great deal better now than when she

made the bargain with them. The agent thought the price rather

high, but finally consented to contract at that figure.

Then, as if troubled by an after-thought, he said, "Madam, how do I

know but some of these 'deetecters' may come around, and, seeing my

letters, get me into difficulty?"

"Why, laws a' mercy," said she, "don't be skeer'd. Yeou jest leave

that to me. The minnit them air letters gits here, I hides 'em in

that bewro-draw'r," pointing to an article of furniture in the

corner.

"Is it a safe place?" queried the agent.

"Yas, it is," answered the woman. "Got it half full neow. Carry

the key in my pocket."

She gave a grin, intended for a knowing smile, in admiration of her

own cleverness.

"I believe the hiding-place is tolerably secure," replied the

officer, with the air of one who desired to be convinced, but had

not yet reached the point of full assurance.

"You seem to be very particl'r and diffikilt to satisfy," continued

Mrs. Morris; "but, if yeou don't believe it, jest come and see for

you'sef."

She led the way to the bureau, opened the drawer, and, raising a

plaid cotton handkerchief, displayed the contraband letters by the

score. All were directed to the lottery firm, and were turned over

to the knave from time to time as it suited his convenience to call

for them. As no such firm did business at Wington Junction, it was

the duty of the postmaster to forward to the department, as

fictitious and undeliverable, all letters bearing the address of

the swindlers. In similar cases neglect to obey the regulation was

treated as sufficient ground for instant removal.

More fully pleased with the result of the examination than the

woman surmised, the officer resumed: "I see you are very particular

about your methods of doing business, and do not mean to be caught

napping. The arrangement we are about to enter into is a very

important one, and, as you are not postmaster, your husband will

have to be present to witness and ratify the bargain."

"Bless yeour soul," replied she, "it's all right. I 'tend to all

the biznis. My husband doesn't bother hissef abeout it in the

least."

"Madam," answered the officer, "pardon me. I had my training in a

large city, and am accustomed to pay minute attention to every

detail. Your husband is the principal in this case, and must

ratify the agreement to make it binding. Of course you will derive

all the benefit, but his presence is essential as a matter of

form."

Apparently satisfied, she called for "John," who replied promptly

to the summons.

"Mr. Morris," said the officer, "your wife has agreed to keep my

letters for me--"

"Yaas," broke in the postmaster. "I know'd she would. Yeou'll

find she'll dew it right, tew. Nobody can't come enny tricks on

her--can they, Sue? I wish one o' 'em durn'd deetecters would come

around, jest tew see heow she'd pull the wool over 'im. I wudn't

ax enny better fun;" and he indulged in a fit of loud cachinnation

at the absurdity of supposing that anyone could match in sharpness

his own beloved Sue.

"The letters will come to that address," said the agent, pulling

out his commission from the postmaster-general, and exhibiting it

to the pair.

Taking in the purport of it at a glance, Morris jumped several

inches into the air, slapped his sides, and exclaimed, "A

deetecter, arter all; sold, by jingo!"

"We're bust'd then," chimed in Sue, with a melancholy grin.

It was even so. The letters for Highfalutin & Co. went to

Washington, and Morris went out of the post-office; but the fact

that Sue was overmatched hurt him more than the loss of the place.

June 8, 1872, a law was approved making it a penal offense to use

the mails for the purpose of defrauding others, whether residing

within or outside of the United States. The postmaster-general was

also authorized to forbid the payment of postal money orders to

persons engaged in fraudulent lotteries, gift enterprises, and

other schemes for swindling the public, and to instruct postmasters

to return to the writers, with the word "fraudulent" written or

stamped on the outside, all registered letters directed to such

persons or firms. Prior to the enactment of this law, the most

wholesale and barefaced operations were conducted by professional

cheats, mainly through the facilities afforded by the mails, with

almost absolute impunity. Letters addressed to bogus firms were

indeed forwarded from the offices of delivery to the department as

"fictitious" and "undeliverable," and many colluding postmasters

were decapitated. Such petty measures of warfare served merely to

annoy the vampires and to whet their diabolical ingenuity for the

contrivance of new devices. Since the law of 1872 went into

effect, however, the scoundrels have been compelled to travel a

thorny road. Scores of arrests have been made, and in many cases

the criminals have been sentenced to the penitentiary.

It would exceed our limits even to enumerate the devices which have

been tried by different swindlers with greater or less success.

Gift enterprises of various kinds are the most common and

notorious, constituting a distinct branch of the business; but the

pretenses on which human credulity is invited to part with actual

cash for imaginary benefits are innumerable. A few specimens are

given as illustrations.

AN OLD GAME REVIVED

On the 18th of September, 1875, a fellow was arrested in West

Virginia who sent the victims whom he proposed to bleed letters

whereof the following is a copy:--

"A lady who boarded with me died on last Saturday of apoplexy. She

left a trunk containing the following property: One very fine

ladies' gold watch and chain, one ladies' gold necklace, six

ladies' finger rings, earrings, and a great deal of ladies'

clothing. Among other things was a letter addressed to you. I

suppose you to be a relative of the deceased, and want to send you

the trunk. When Miss Thompson died she left a board bill unpaid

amounting to $20.50. You will please send this amount by return

mail, and the trunk will be forwarded to you immediately."

Instead of remitting the money as modestly requested, the recipient

of one of these choice douceurs, a lady residing in the interior of

Pennsylvania, sent the letter to the mayor of the town where it was

dated and postmarked, who in turn handed it over to special agent

T. P. Shallcross; and he in the course of a day or two succeeded in

capturing the miscreant.

This particular form of the confidence game is very old; yet in the

year of our Lord eighteen hundred and seventy-five a swindler by

means of it succeeds not only in maintaining himself in dashing

style, but also in sporting a flashy traveling companion of the

female persuasion!

Where the letters are addressed to men, the articles reported to be

found in the imaginary trunk are changed to correspond to masculine

habits and wants. The operators receive many singular and some

entertaining replies. The following, dated long ago from a small

town at the South, may serve as a sample, the orthography of the

original being preserved:--

"COL. SNOWDEN,

"Dear Sir,--Yours received, and you say John is dead. Poor fellow!

I always expected it. Death runs in the family. Dyed suddenly of

appleplexy--eat too many apples. Well, I always thought John would

hurt himself eating apples. I s'pose you had him buried. You said

nothing about funeral expenses. He had a trunk--gold watch in it,

&c. Well, well, what an unexpected legacy! but strange things

happen sometimes. Never thought I should get a gold watch so. And

he had the watch in his trunk, did he? Poor fellow! was always so

particular 'bout his watch and fixings. Had two revolvers. What

is them? I never heard John say anything about them. Well, you

have been so kind as to write to me; just keep all the balance of

the things, you can have them; but the gold watch, send that to me

by express. Send immediately if not sooner."

"Very truly,

"GEO. STREAM.

"P. S. My mother in law says, if you come this way, call. She

likes to know all such good, kind folks."

It is safe to conclude that "Col. Snowden" never accepted the

invitation to call from the hospitable mother-in-law.

A FORMIDABLE WEAPON

In the summer and fall of 1875 circulars were scattered broadcast

over the country, and advertisements appeared in the weekly

editions of several leading papers of New York City and other large

towns, setting forth the rare merits of a weapon of destruction

called "Allan's New Low-Priced Seven-Shooter." As a specimen of

ingenious description, the more salient parts of the circular are

herewith reproduced:--

"In introducing this triumph of mechanical genius to the American

public, it is proper to say that it is not an entirely new article,

but that it has lately been improved in appearance, simplicity of

construction, and accuracy, having new points of excellence, making

it superior in many respects to those first made. The

manufacturers having improved facilities for making them cheaply

and rapidly, have reduced the price to one dollar and fifty cents;

and while the profits on a single one are necessarily small, this

price places them within the reach of all.

"We wish it distinctly understood that this is no cheap, good-for-

nothing 'pop-gun'; and while none can expect it to be 'silver-

mounted' for $1.50, they have a right to expect the worth of their

money, and in this new improved seven-shooter a want is supplied.

"Great care is taken in the adjustment of EACH, so that ALL are

equally good and reliable. In their production no trouble or

expense has been spared. An elaborate and complete set of

machinery and gauges has been made, by means of which all the parts

are produced exactly alike, thus insuring great uniformity in the

character of the work produced."

This remarkable implement, equally useful for peace or war, is

offered to an eager public at the low price of $1.50 each, or $13

per dozen. On the score of cheapness, the inventor greatly prefers

the mails to the express as a vehicle for the transport of his

wares. In fact, he declines to patronize the express companies at

all, unless a prepayment of twenty-five per cent, accompanies each

order as a guaranty of the "purchaser's good faith."

At first the enterprise succeeded even beyond the most sanguine

expectations of its projector, letters with the cash inclosed

pouring in by the hundred. For several months, however, after the

first publication of the advertisement, "this triumph of mechanical

genius," though "not an entirely new article," existed only in the

comprehensive brain of the gentleman who had the greatness to

discern in the imperfect work of predecessors the germs of ideal

perfection. Having no seven-shooters to send, he was compelled to

dishonor the requisitions of the expectant "traveler, sailor,

hunter, fisherman, etc." While careful to lay aside the

inclosures, he entirely forgot even to so far remember his patrons

as to make a record of their names.

In due time, however, the "factory" went into operation, and the

seven-shooters were actually produced. The mechanical "triumph,"

rudely made of a cheap metal composition, is a duplicate of a toy

long used by boys to the delight of each other, and to the

annoyance of their elders. The propulsive power resides in a steel

spring, which has force enough to send a bird-shot across a good-

sized room. The outfit would cost perhaps six or eight cents to

the manufacturer. A portion of the orders were now filled, the

greater part being still thrown unhonored into the waste-basket as

before.

Curses both loud and deep began to be showered on the head of the

swindler. Complaints having reached the department, special agent

C. E. Henry started to hunt for "Wilcox & Co.," of Windsor, Ohio,

for such was the direction in the advertisements and on the

circular. Proceeding several miles from the nearest railroad, he

found the rural settlement where the factory was supposed to be

located.

Guided by various inquiries, he finally drove up to the small farm-

house where the parents of Wilcox & Co. resided. On entering, the

officer said, "I am in search of Mr. Wilcox, of the firm of Wilcox

& Co."

"I am your man," remarked a youth, perhaps twenty-two years of age,

whose countenance at once suggested acuteness and cunning. "What

will you have?"

"I would like to take a look about the arsenal and gun-factory

located here," replied the detective, leisurely surveying the

landscape.

"The works are in Cleveland," answered the great inventor. "You

can see them by calling there."

"But where is the arsenal? I understand it was situated here."

"Your information is correct," replied the young man. "That is it,

across the road."

Casting his eye in the direction indicated, the officer saw a

rickety woodshed about seven feet by nine in size.

Observing the smile of amused incredulity that played upon the

features of his questioner, Wilcox reiterated, with an air of half

offended dignity,--

"That's it. We keep our seven-shooters there. But look here;

before this thing goes any further, I want to know who you are."

"Oh, certainly, sir," answered the stranger. "You will find

nothing about me that I care to keep concealed. I am a special

agent of the post-office department, and my business here is to

arrest you."

"Why, what have I done to warrant such a visit?" queried youthful

innocence.

"I shall be happy to make that point clear to you," replied the

detective, "though I am afraid the enlightenment will come too late

to prove of much service to you. In using the mails for the

purpose of swindling, you have violated the laws of the country,

and must suffer the penalty."

"But where does the swindling come in?" expostulated Wilcox. "I

advertised a seven-shooter. I didn't say anything about a

revolver. It will shoot seven shot, or twice that number, if you

only put them in. If anybody is green enough to suppose I meant a

revolver, that's his lookout, not mine."

"We are not called upon to decide the point," said the special

agent. "The question is one for the court and the jury. But you

must go with me to Cleveland. So get ready."

Finding persuasion, argument, and remonstrance alike useless, the

great mechanical genius packed his satchel in preparation for the

journey. Once fairly on the road, he became communicative, and

explained the reasons which led him to embark in the enterprise.

"In the first place," said he, "I read Barnum's Life, and accepted

the doctrine that the American people like to be humbugged. I

planned the shooter myself, and, in wording the circular, aimed to

cover the points and keep within the law. I think I have

succeeded."

"I beg leave to differ," argued the special agent. "Aside from the

general falsity of the description, there are specific claims which

you cannot make good."

"I don't see the matter in that light," replied the champion of the

seven-shooter. "I say, 'Wherever introduced, they advertise

themselves.' Well, don't they? Whoever gets one will be apt to

tell his neighbors. Isn't that advertising itself? I also say,

'The sale of one opens the market for a dozen in any neighborhood;'

but observe, I don't claim that any more will be sold in that

neighborhood, even if the market is opened. So far as my guaranty

is concerned, I only warrant them to be as good after three years'

use as when first purchased. Will you, or will any court, call

that in question?"

"It is charged," said the officer, changing the subject, "that you

neglected to fill a good many orders. How do you explain that?"

"Why, to furnish the shooter and pay the postage cuts down the

profits terribly," was the unique and characteristic reply.

Orders began to arrive in response to the circular nearly five

months before the first shooter came from the hands of the

manufacturer; and as none of them were ever filled, or even

recorded, it is impossible to estimate how many dupes long watched

the mails in anxious expectancy, and perhaps attributed their

disappointment to dishonesty among the employees of the department.

Of course the papers which printed the advertisement would have

spurned the impostor and exposed the fraud, had they discovered the

facts. The most scrupulous and careful publishers are often

deceived in the character of advertisements that come through the

regular channels of business, and appear plausible on their face.

In fact, the religious journals are the favorite vehicles of the

swindlers. The solicitude felt by the newspapers, not only for

their own reputation, but for the interests of their patrons, was

illustrated in the correspondence found on the person of Wilcox.

An influential western journal had addressed him two notes which

ran thus:--

GENTS: We receive frequent letters from subscribers, saying they

receive no answers to letters they send you containing money for

'7-Shooters.' How is it? Are you swindlers?"

Wilcox, though fully able to answer the conundrum, did not see fit

to do so; and hence, on the 3d of November, the same parties

deployed their forces to renew the charge.

"--, Nov. 3, 1875.

"WILCOX & CO.:

"We have written you once before, that our patrons complain to us

that you do not fill their cash orders, and will not answer their

letters of inquiry as to why you don't. We have received so many

such that we suspect there is something wrong, and, unless you

explain satisfactorily, we will have to expose you."

As the special agent arrived on the same day with the inquiry, the

young man had no opportunity to make the desired explanation.

Indeed it is doubtful if one so modest and reticent on matters of

personal merit, would have answered the question even if permitted

to take all winter to do it in.

The United States commissioner, while fully recognizing the

ingenuity of the circular, differed somewhat from its author in

interpreting its legal construction, and accordingly placed him

under a bond of fifteen hundred dollars to appear for trial.

Andrew Lang

Saint-Germain the Deathless

Among the best brief masterpieces of fiction are Lytton's The

Haunters and the Haunted, and Thackeray's Notch on the Axe in

Roundabout Papers.* Both deal with a mysterious being who passes

through the ages, rich, powerful, always behind the scenes, coming

no man knows whence, and dying, or pretending to die, obscurely--

you never find authentic evidence of his disease. In other later

times, at other courts, such an one reappears and runs the same

course of luxury, marvel, and hidden potency.

* Both given in the accompanying volume containing "Old Time

English" Stories. See also the first story in the "North Europe"

volume.--Editor.

Lytton returned to and elaborated his idea in the Margrave of A

Strange Story, who has no "soul," and prolongs his physical and

intellectual life by means of an elixir. Margrave is not bad, but

he is inferior to the hero, less elaborately designed, of The

Haunters and the Haunted. Thackeray's tale is written in a tone of

mock mysticism, but he confesses that he likes his own story, in

which the strange hero through all his many lives or reappearances,

and through all the countless loves on which he fatuously plumes

himself, retains a slight German-Jewish accent.