THE EXPRESSMAN AND THE DETECTIVE.

_CHAPTER I._

Montgomery, Alabama, is beautifully situated on the Alabama river, near

the centre of the State. Its situation at the head of navigation, on the

Alabama river, its connection by rail with important points, and the

rich agricultural country with which it is surrounded, make it a great

commercial centre, and the second city in the State as regards wealth

and population. It is the capital, and consequently learned men and

great politicians flock to it, giving it a society of the highest rank,

and making it the social centre of the State.

From 1858 to 1860, the time of which I treat in the present work, the

South was in a most prosperous condition. "Cotton was king," and

millions of dollars were poured into the country for its purchase, and a

fair share of this money found its way to Montgomery.

When the Alabama planters had gathered their crops of cotton, tobacco,

rice, etc., they sent them to Montgomery to be sold, and placed the

proceeds on deposit in its banks. During their busy season, while

overseeing the labor of their slaves, they were almost entirely debarred

from the society of any but their own families; but when the crops were

gathered they went with their families to Montgomery, where they gave

themselves up to enjoyment, spending their money in a most lavish

manner.

There were several good hotels in the city and they were always filled

to overflowing with the wealth and beauty of the South.

The Adams Express Company had a monopoly of the express business of the

South, and had established its agencies at all points with which there

was communication by rail, steam or stage. They handled all the money

sent to the South for the purchase of produce, or remitted to the North

in payment of merchandise. Moreover, as they did all the express

business for the banks, besides moving an immense amount of freight, it

is evident that their business was enormous.

At all points of importance, where there were diverging routes of

communication, the company had established principal agencies, at which

all through freight and the money pouches were delivered by the

messengers. The agents at these points were selected with the greatest

care, and were always considered men above reproach. Montgomery being a

great centre of trade was made the western terminus of one of the

express routes, Atlanta being the eastern. The messengers who had charge

of the express matter between these two points were each provided with

a safe and with a pouch. The latter was to contain only such packages as

were to go over the whole route, consisting of money or other valuables.

The messenger was not furnished with a key to the pouch, but it was

handed to him locked by the agent at one end of the route to be

delivered in the same condition to the agent at the other end.

The safe was intended for way packages, and of it the messenger of

course had a key. The pouch was carried in the safe, each being

protected by a lock of peculiar construction.

The Montgomery office in 1858, and for some years previous, had been in

charge of Nathan Maroney, and he had made himself one of the most

popular agents in the company's employ.

He was married, and with his wife and one daughter, had pleasant

quarters at the Exchange Hotel, one of the best houses in the city. He

possessed all the qualifications which make a popular man. He had a

genial, hearty manner, which endeared him to the open, hospitable

inhabitants of Montgomery, so that he was "hail fellow, well met," with

most of its populace. He possessed great executive ability and hence

managed the affairs of his office in a very satisfactory manner. The

promptness with which he discharged his duties had won for him the

well-merited esteem of the officers of the company, and he was in a fair

way of attaining a still higher position. His greatest weakness--if it

may be so called--was a love for fast horses, which often threw him into

the company of betting men.

On the morning of the twenty-sixth of April, 1858, the messenger from

Atlanta arrived in Montgomery, placed his safe in the office as usual,

and when Maroney came in, turned over to him the through pouch.

Maroney unlocked the pouch and compared it with the way-bill, when he

discovered a package of four thousand seven hundred and fifty dollars

for a party in Montgomery which was not down on the way-bill. About a

week after this occurrence, advice was received that a package

containing ten thousand dollars in bills of the Planters' and Mechanics'

Bank of Charleston, S. C., had been sent to Columbus, Ga., via the Adams

Express, but the person to whom it was directed had not received it.

Inquiries were at once instituted, when it was discovered that it had

been missent, and forwarded to Atlanta, instead of Macon. At Atlanta it

was recollected that this package, together with one for Montgomery, for

four thousand seven hundred and fifty dollars, had been received on

Sunday, the twenty-fifth of April, and had been sent on to Montgomery,

whence the Columbus package could be forwarded the next day. Here all

trace of the missing package was lost. Maroney stated positively that he

had not received it, and the messenger was equally positive that the

pouch had been delivered to Maroney in the same order in which he

received it from the Atlanta agent.

The officers of the company were completely at a loss. It was discovered

beyond a doubt that the package had been sent from Atlanta. The

messenger who received it bore an excellent character, and the company

could not believe him guilty of the theft. The lock of the pouch was

examined and found in perfect order, so that it evidently had not been

tampered with. The messenger was positive that he had not left the safe

open when he went out of the car, and there was no sign of the lock's

having been forced.

The more the case was investigated, the more directly did suspicion

point to Maroney, but as his integrity had always been unquestioned, no

one now was willing to admit the possibility of his guilt. However, as

no decided action in the matter could be taken, it was determined to say

nothing, but to have the movements of Maroney and other suspected

parties closely watched.

For this purpose various detectives were employed; one a local detective

of Montgomery, named McGibony; others from New Orleans, Philadelphia,

Mobile, and New York. After a long investigation these parties had to

give up the case as hopeless, all concluding that Maroney was an

innocent man. Among the detectives, however was one from New York,

Robert Boyer, by name, an old and favorite officer of Mr. Matsell when

he was chief of the New York police. He had made a long and tedious

examination and finding nothing definite as to what had become of the

money, had turned his attention to discovering the antecedents of

Maroney, but found nothing positively suspicious in his life previous to

his entering the employ of the company. He discovered that Maroney was

the son of a physician, and that he was born in the town of Rome, Ga.

Here I would remark that the number of titled men one meets in the South

is astonishing. Every man, if he is not a doctor, a lawyer, or a

clergyman, has some military title--nothing lower than captain being

admissible. Of these self-imposed titles they are very jealous, and woe

be to the man who neglects to address them in the proper form. Captain

is the general title, and is applied indiscriminately to the captain of

a steamer, or to the deck hand on his vessel.

Maroney remained in Rome until he became a young man, when he emigrated

to Texas. On the breaking out of the Mexican war he joined a company of

Texan Rangers, and distinguished himself in a number of battles. At the

close of the war he settled in Montgomery, in the year 1851, or 1852,

and was employed by Hampton & Co., owners of a line of stages, to act as

their agent. On leaving this position, he was made treasurer of Johnson

& May's circus, remaining with the company until it was disbanded in

consequence of the pecuniary difficulties of the proprietors--caused, it

was alleged, through Maroney's embezzlement of the funds, though this

allegation proved false, and he remained for many years on terms of

intimacy with one of the partners, a resident of Montgomery. When the

company disbanded he obtained a situation as conductor on a railroad in

Tennessee, and was afterwards made Assistant Superintendent, which

position he resigned to take the agency of the Adams Express Company, in

Montgomery. His whole life seemed spotless up to the time of the

mysterious disappearance of the ten thousand dollars.

In the fall of the year, Maroney obtained leave of absence, and made a

trip to the North, visiting the principal cities of the East, and also

of the Northwest. He was followed on this trip, but nothing was

discovered, with the single exception that his associates were not

always such as were desirable in an employé, to whose keeping very heavy

interests were from time to time necessarily committed. He was lost

sight of at Richmond, Va., for a few days, and was supposed by the man

who was following him, to have passed the time in Charleston.

The company now gave up all hope of recovering the money; but as

Maroney's habits were expensive, and they had lost, somewhat, their

confidence in him, they determined to remove him and place some less

objectionable person in his place.

Maroney's passion for fine horses has already been alluded to. It was

stated about this time that he owned several fast horses; among others,

"Yankee Mary," a horse for which he was said to have paid two thousand

five hundred dollars; but as he had brought seven thousand five hundred

dollars with him when he entered the employ of the company, this could

not be considered a suspicious circumstance.

It having been determined to remove Maroney, the Vice-President of the

company wrote to the Superintendent of the Southern Division of the

steps he wished taken. The Superintendent of the Southern Division

visited Montgomery on the twentieth of January, 1859, but was

anticipated in the matter of carrying out his instructions, by Maroney's

tendering his resignation. The resignation was accepted, but the

superintendent requested him to continue in charge of the office until

his successor should arrive.

This he consented to do.

_CHAPTER II._

Previous to Maroney's trip to the North, Mr. Boyer held a consultation

with the Vice-President and General Superintendent of the company. He

freely admitted his inability to fathom the mystery surrounding the loss

of the money, and thought the officers of the company did Maroney a

great injustice in supposing him guilty of the theft. He said he knew of

only one man who could bring out the robbery, and he was living in

Chicago.

Pinkerton was the name of the man he referred to. He had established an

agency in Chicago, and was doing a large business. He (Boyer) had every

confidence in his integrity and ability, which was more than he could

say of the majority of detectives, and recommended the Vice-President to

have him come down and look into the case.

This ended the case for most of the detectives. One by one they had gone

away, and nothing had been developed by them. The Vice-President, still

anxious to see if anything could be done, wrote a long and full

statement of the robbery and sent it to me, with the request that I

would give my opinion on it.

I was much surprised when I received the letter, as I had not the

slightest idea who the Vice-President was, and knew very little about

the Adams Express, as, at that time, they had no office in the West.

I, however, sat down and read it over very carefully, and, on finishing

it, determined to make a point in the case if I possibly could. I

reviewed the whole of the Vice-President's letter, debating every

circumstance connected with the robbery, and finally ended my

consideration of the subject with the firm conviction that the robbery

had been committed either by the agent, Maroney, or by the messenger,

and I was rather inclined to give the blame to Maroney.

The letter was a very long one, but one of which I have always been

proud. Having formed my opinion, I wrote to the Vice-President,

explained to him the ground on which I based my conclusions, and

recommended that they keep Maroney in their employ, and have a strict

watch maintained over his actions.

After sending my letter, I could do nothing until the Vice-President

replied, which I expected he would do in a few days; but I heard nothing

more of the affair for a long time, and had almost entirely forgotten

it, when I received a telegraphic dispatch from him, sent from

Montgomery, and worded about as follows:

"ALLAN PINKERTON: Can you send me a man--half horse and half

alligator? I have got 'bit' once more! When can you send him?"

The dispatch came late Saturday night, and I retired to my private

office to think the matter over. The dispatch gave me no information

from which I could draw any conclusions. No mention was made of how the

robbery was committed, or of the amount stolen. I had not received any

further information of the ten thousand dollar robbery. How had they

settled that? It was hard to decide what kind of a man to send! I wanted

to send the very best, and would gladly go myself, but did not know

whether the robbery was important enough to demand my personal

attention.

I did not know what kind of men the officers of the company were, or

whether they would be willing to reward a person properly for his

exertions in their behalf.

At that time I had no office in New York, and knew nothing of the

ramifications of the company. Besides, I did not know how I would be

received in the South. I had held my anti-slavery principles too long to

give them up. They had been bred in my bones, and it was impossible to

eradicate them. I was always stubborn, and in any circumstances would

never abandon principles I had once adopted.

Slavery was in full blossom, and an anti-slavery man could do nothing in

the South. As I had always been a man somewhat after the John Brown

stamp, aiding slaves to escape, or keeping them employed, and running

them into Canada when in danger, I did not think it would do for me to

make a trip to Montgomery.

I did not know what steps had already been taken in the case, or whether

the loss was a heavy one. From the Vice-President's saying he wanted a

man "half horse, half alligator," I supposed he wanted a man who could

at least affiliate readily with the inhabitants of the South.

But what class was he to mix with? Did he want a man to mix with the

rough element, or to pass among gentlemen? I could select from my force

any class of man he could wish. But what _did he wish_?

I was unaware of who had recommended me to the Vice-President, as at

that time I had not been informed that my old friend Boyer had spoken so

well of me. What answer should I make to the dispatch? It must be

answered immediately!

These thoughts followed each other in rapid succession as I held the

dispatch before me.

I finally settled on Porter as the proper man to send, and immediately

telegraphed the Vice-President, informing him that Porter would start

for Montgomery by the first train. I then sent for Porter and gave him

what few instructions I could. I told him the little I knew of the case,

and that I should have to rely greatly on his tact and discretion.

Up to that time I had never done any business for the Adams Express, and

as their business was well worth having, I was determined to win.

He was to go to Montgomery and get thoroughly acquainted with the town

and its surroundings; and as my suspicions had become aroused as to the

integrity of the agent, Maroney, he was to form his acquaintance, and

frequent the saloons and livery stables of the town, the

Vice-President's letter having made me aware of Maroney's inclination

for fast horses. He was to keep his own counsel, and, above all things,

not let it become known that he was from the North, but to hail from

Richmond, Va., thus securing for himself a good footing with the

inhabitants. He was also to dress in the Southern style; to supply me

with full reports describing the town and its surroundings, the manners

and customs of its people, all he saw or heard about Maroney, the

messengers and other employés of the company; whether Maroney was

married, and, if so, any suspicious circumstances in regard to his wife

as well as himself--in fact, to keep me fully informed of all that

occurred. I should have to rely on his discretion until his reports were

received; but then I could direct him how to act. I also instructed him

to obey all orders from the Vice-President, and to be as obliging as

possible.

Having given him his instructions, I started him off on the first train,

giving him a letter of introduction to the Vice-President. On Porter's

arriving in Montgomery he sent me particulars of the case, from which I

learned that while Maroney was temporarily filling the position of

agent, among other packages sent to the Montgomery office, on the

twenty-seventh of January, 1859, were four containing, in the aggregate,

forty thousand dollars, of which one, of two thousand five hundred

dollars, was to be sent to Charleston, S. C., and the other three, of

thirty thousand, five thousand, and two thousand five hundred

respectively, were intended for Augusta. These were receipted for by

Maroney, and placed in the vault to be sent off the next day. On the

twenty-eighth the pouch was given to the messenger, Mr. Chase, and by

him taken to Atlanta. When the pouch was opened, it was found that none

of these packages were in it, although they were entered on the way-bill

which accompanied the pouch, and were duly checked off. The poor

messenger was thunder-struck, and for a time acted like an idiot,

plunging his hand into the vacant pouch over and over again, and

staring vacantly at the way-bill. The Assistant Superintendent of the

Southern Division was in the Atlanta office when the loss was

discovered, and at once telegraphed to Maroney for an explanation.

Receiving no reply before the train started for Montgomery, he got

aboard and went directly there. On his arrival he went to the office and

saw Maroney, who said he knew nothing at all of the matter. He had

delivered the packages to the messenger, had his receipt for them, and

of course could not be expected to keep track of them when out of his

possession.

Before Mr. Hall, the route agent, left Atlanta he had examined the pouch

carefully, but could find no marks of its having been tampered with. He

had immediately telegraphed to another officer of the company, who was

at Augusta, and advised him of what had happened. The evening after the

discovery of the loss the pouch was brought back by the messenger from

Atlanta, who delivered it to Maroney.

Maroney took out the packages, compared them with the way-bill, and,

finding them all right, he threw down the pouch and placed the packages

in the vault.

In a few moments he came out, and going over to where Mr. Hall was

standing, near where he had laid down the pouch, he picked it up and

proceeded to examine it. He suddenly exclaimed, "Why, it's cut!" and

handed it over to Mr. Hall. Mr. Hall, on examination, found two cuts at

right angles to each other, made in the side of the pouch and under the

pocket which is fastened on the outside, to contain the way-bill.

On Sunday the General Superintendent arrived in Montgomery, when a

strict investigation was made, but nothing definite was discovered, and

the affair seemed surrounded by an impenetrable veil of mystery. It was,

however, discovered that on the day the missing packages were claimed to

have been sent away, there were several rather unusual incidents in the

conduct of Maroney.

After consultation with Mr. Hall and others, the General Superintendent

determined that the affair should not be allowed to rest, as was the ten

thousand dollar robbery, and had Maroney arrested, charged with stealing

the forty thousand dollars.

The robbery of so large an amount caused great excitement in Montgomery.

The legislature was in session, and the city was crowded with senators,

representatives and visitors. Everywhere, on the streets, in the

saloons, in private families, and at the hotels, the great robbery of

the Express Company was the universal topic of conversation. Maroney had

become such a favorite that nearly all the citizens sympathized with

him, and in unmeasured terms censured the company for having him

arrested. They claimed that it was another instance of the persecution

of a poor man by a powerful corporation, to cover the carelessness of

those high in authority, and thus turn the blame on some innocent

person.

Maroney was taken before Justice Holtzclaw, and gave the bail which was

required--forty thousand dollars--for his appearance for examination a

few days later; prominent citizens of the town actually vieing with one

another for an opportunity to sign his bail-bond.

At the examination the Company presented such a weak case that the bail

was reduced to four thousand dollars, and Maroney was bound over in

that amount to appear for trial at the next session of the circuit

court, to be held in June. The evidence was such that there was little

prospect of his conviction on the charge unless the company could

procure additional evidence by the time the trial was to come off.

It was the desire of the company to make such inquiries, and generally

pursue such a course as would demonstrate the guilt or the possible

innocence of the accused. It was absolutely necessary for their own

preservation to show that depredations upon them could not be committed

with impunity. They offered a reward of ten thousand dollars for the

recovery of the money, promptly made good the loss of the parties who

had entrusted the several amounts to their charge, and looked around to

select such persons to assist them as would be most likely to secure

success. The amount was large enough to warrant the expenditure of a

considerable sum in its recovery, and the beneficial influence following

the conviction of the guilty party would be ample return for any outlay

securing that object. The General Superintendent therefore telegraphed

to me, as before related, requesting me to send a man to work up the

case.

_CHAPTER III._

Mr. Porter had a very rough journey to Montgomery, and was delayed some

days on the road. It was in the depth of winter, and in the North the

roads were blockaded with snow, while in the South there was constant

rain. The rivers were flooded, carrying away the bridges and washing out

the embankments of the railroads, very much impeding travel.

On his arrival in Montgomery he saw the General Superintendent and

presented his letter. He received from him the particulars of the forty

thousand dollar robbery, and immediately reported them to me.

The General Superintendent directed him to watch--"shadow" as we call

it--the movements of Maroney, find out who were his companions, and what

saloons he frequented.

Porter executed his duties faithfully, and reported to me that

Montgomery was decidedly a fast town; that the Exchange Hotel, where

Maroney boarded, was kept by Mr. Floyd, former proprietor of the Briggs

House, Chicago, and, although not the leading house of the town, was

very much liked, as it was well conducted.

From the meagre reports I had received I found I had to cope with no

ordinary man, but one who was very popular, while I was a poor nameless

individual, with a profession which most people were inclined to look

down upon with contempt. I however did not flinch from the undertaking,

but wrote to Porter to do all he could, and at the same time wrote to

the General Superintendent, suggesting the propriety of sending another

man, who should keep in the background and "spot" Maroney and his wife,

or their friends, so that if any one of them should leave town he could

follow him, leaving Porter in Montgomery, to keep track of the parties

there.

There were, of course, a number of suspicious characters in a town of

the size of Montgomery, and it was necessary to keep watch of many of

them.

Maroney frequented a saloon kept by a man whom I will call Patterson.

Patterson's saloon was the fashionable drinking resort of Montgomery,

and was frequented by all the fast men in town. Although outwardly a

very quiet, respectable place, inwardly, as Porter found, it was far

from reputable. Up stairs were private rooms, in which gentlemen met to

have a quiet game of poker; while down stairs could be found the

greenhorn, just "roped in," and being swindled, at _three card monte_.

There were, also, rooms where the "young bloods" of the town--as well as

the old--could meet ladies of easy virtue. It was frequented by fast men

from New Orleans, Mobile, and other places, who were continually

arriving and departing.

I advised the General Superintendent that it would be best to have

Porter get in with the "bloods" of the town, make himself acquainted

with any ladies Maroney or his wife might be familiar with, and adopt

generally the character of a fast man.

As soon as the General Superintendent received my letter he telegraphed

to me to send the second man, and also requested me to meet him, at a

certain date, in New York.

I now glanced over my force to see who was the best person to select for

a "shadow". Porter had been promoted by me to be a sort of "roper".

Most people may suppose that nearly any one can perform the duties of a

"shadow", and that it is the easiest thing in the world to follow up a

man; but such is not the case. A "shadow" has a most difficult position

to maintain. It will not do to follow a person on the opposite side of

the street, or close behind him, and when he stops to speak to a friend

stop also; or if a person goes into a saloon, or store, pop in after

him, stand staring till he goes out, and then follow him again. Of

course such a "shadow" would be detected in fifteen minutes. Such are

not the actions of the real "shadow", or, at least, of the "shadow"

furnished by my establishment.

I had just the man for the place, in Mr. Roch, who could follow a person

for any length of time, and never be discovered.

Having settled on Roch as the proper man for the position, I summoned

him to my private office. Roch was a German. He was about forty-five

years old, of spare appearance and rather sallow or tanned complexion.

His nose was long, thin and peaked, eyes clear but heavy looking, and

hair dark. He was slightly bald, and though he stooped a little, was

five feet ten inches in height. He had been in my employ for many years,

and I knew him thoroughly, and could trust him.

I informed him of the duties he was to perform, and gave him minute

instructions how he was to act. He was to keep out of sight as much as

possible in Montgomery. Porter would manage to see him on his arrival,

unknown to any one there, and would point out to him Maroney and his

wife, and the messenger, Chase, who boarded at the Exchange; also

Patterson, the saloon keeper, and all suspected parties. He was not to

make himself known to Floyd, of the Exchange, or to McGibony, the local

detective. I had also given Porter similar instructions. I suggested to

him the propriety of lodging at some low boarding house where liquor was

sold.

He was to keep me fully posted by letter of the movements of all

suspected parties, and if any of them left town to follow them and

immediately inform me by telegraph who they were and where they were

going, so that I could fill his place in Montgomery.

Having given him his instructions, I selected for his disguise a German

dress. This I readily procured from my extensive wardrobe, which I keep

well supplied by frequent attendance at sales of old articles.

When he had rigged himself up in his long German coat, his German cap

with the peak behind, and a most approved pair of emigrant boots, he

presented himself to me with his long German pipe in his mouth, and I

must say I was much pleased with his disguise, in which his own mother

would not have recognized him. He was as fine a specimen of a Dutchman

as could be found.

Having thoroughly impressed on his mind the importance of the case and

my determination to win the esteem of the company by ferreting out the

thief, if possible, I started him for Montgomery, where he arrived in

due time.

At the date agreed upon I went to New York to meet the General

Superintendent. I had never met the gentlemen of the company and I was a

little puzzled how to act with them.

I met the Vice-President at the express office, in such a manner that

none of the employés were the wiser as to my profession or business, and

he made an appointment to meet me at the Astor House in the afternoon.

At the Astor House he introduced me to the President, the General

Superintendent of the company, and we immediately proceeded to business.

They gave me all the particulars of the case they could, though they

were not much fuller than those I had already received from Porter's

reports. They reviewed the life of Maroney, as already related, up to

the time he became their agent, stating that he was married, although

his marriage seemed somewhat "mixed".

As far as they could find out, Mrs. Maroney was a widow, with one

daughter, Flora Irvin, who was about seven or eight years old. Mrs.

Maroney was from a very respectable family, now living in Philadelphia

or its environs. She was reported to have run away from home with a

roué, whose acquaintance she had formed, but who soon deserted her.

Afterwards she led the life of a fast woman at Charleston, New Orleans,

Augusta, Ga., and Mobile, at which latter place she met Maroney, and was

supposed to have been married to him.

After Maroney was appointed agent in Montgomery he brought her with

him, took a suite of rooms at the Exchange, and introduced her as his

wife.

On account of these circumstances the General Superintendent did not

wish to meet her, and, when in Montgomery, always took rooms at another

hotel.

The Vice-President said he had nearly come to the conclusion that

Maroney was not guilty of the ten thousand dollar robbery; but when my

letter reached him, with my comments on the robbery, he became convinced

that _he was_ the guilty party.

He was strengthened in this opinion by the actions of Maroney while on

his Northern tour, and by the fact that immediately on his return the

fast mare "Yankee Mary" made her appearance in Montgomery and that

Maroney backed her heavily. It was not known that he was her owner, it

being generally reported that Patterson and other fast men were her

proprietors.

This was all the Vice-President and General Superintendent had been able

to discover while South, and they were aware that I had very little

ground on which to work.

I listened to all they had to say on the subject and took full memoranda

of the facts. I then stated that although Maroney had evidently planned

and carried out the robbery with such consummate ability that he had not

left the slightest clue by which he could be detected, still, if they

would only give me plenty of time, I would bring the robbery home to

him.

I maintained, as a cardinal principle, that it is impossible for the

human mind to retain a secret. All history proves that no one can hug a

secret to his breast and live. Everyone must have a vent for his

feelings. It is impossible to keep them always penned up.

This is especially noticeable in persons who have committed criminal

acts. They always find it necessary to select some one in whom they can

confide and to whom they can unburden themselves.

We often find that persons who have committed grave offenses will fly to

the moors, or to the prairies, or to the vast solitudes of almost

impenetrable forests, and there give vent to their feelings. I instanced

the case of Eugene Aram, who took up his abode on the bleak and solitary

moor, and, removed from the society of his fellow-men, tried to maintain

his secret by devoting himself to astronomical observations and musings

with nature, but who, nevertheless, felt compelled to relieve his

overburdened mind by muttering to himself details of the murder while

taking his long and dreary walks on the moor.

If Maroney had committed the robbery and no one knew it but himself, I

would demonstrate the truth of my theory by proving that he would

eventually seek some one in whom he thought he could confide and to whom

he would entrust the secret.

My plan was to supply him with a confidant. It would take time to

execute such a plan, but if they would have patience all would be well.

I would go to Montgomery and become familiar with the town. I was

unknown there and should remain so, only taking a letter to their legal

advisers, Watts, Judd & Jackson, whom I supposed would cheerfully give

me all the information in their power. I also informed them that it

would be necessary to detail more detectives to work up the case.

I found the officers of the company genial, pleasant men, possessed of

great executive ability and untiring energy, and felt that my duties

would be doubly agreeable by being in the interests of such men.

They ended the interview by authorizing me to employ what men I thought

proper; stating that they had full confidence in me, and that they

thought I would be enabled to unearth the guilty parties ere long. They

further authorized me to use my own judgment in all things; but expected

me to keep them fully informed of what was going on.

I started for Montgomery the same day, but was as unfortunate in meeting

with delay as were my detectives. The rivers were filled with floating

ice and I was ice-bound in the Potomac for over thirty hours. I was

obliged to go back to Alexandria, where I took the train and proceeded,

via West Point and Atlanta, to Montgomery. On the journey I amused

myself reading Martin Chuzzlewit, which I took good care to throw away

on the road, as its cuts at slavery made it unpopular in the South. At

the various stations planters got aboard, sometimes conveying their

slaves from point to point, sometimes travelling with their families to

neighboring cities. I did not converse with them, as I was not sure of

my ability to refrain from divulging my abolition sentiments. On my

arrival in Montgomery I took up my quarters at the Exchange and

impressed upon Mr. Floyd the necessity of keeping my presence a secret.

He had no idea that I was after Maroney, but supposed I was merely on a

visit to the South.

I took no notice of Maroney, but managed to see Porter and Roch

privately. They informed me that they had discovered little or nothing.

Maroney kept everything to himself. He and his wife went out

occasionally. He frequented Patterson's, sometimes going into the card

rooms, drove out with a fast horse, and passed many hours in his

counsel's office. This was all Porter knew.

Roch was to do nothing but "spot" the suspected parties and follow any

one of them who might leave town. He was to be a Dutchman, and he acted

the character to perfection. He could be seen sitting outside of his

boarding-house with his pipe in his mouth, and he apparently did nothing

but puff, puff, puff all day long. There was a saloon in town where

lager was sold and he could, occasionally, be found here sipping his

lager; but although apparently a stupid, phlegmatic man, taking no

notice of what was going on around him, he drank in, with his lager,

every word that was said.

I found that Mrs. Maroney was a very smart woman, indeed, and that it

would be necessary to keep a strict watch over her. I therefore informed

the Vice-President that I would send down another detective especially

to shadow her, as she might leave at any moment for the North and take

the forty thousand dollars with her.

I had no objections to her taking the money to the North. On the

contrary, I preferred she should do so, as I would much rather carry on

the fight on Northern soil than in the South.

I found Messrs. Watts, Judd & Jackson, the company's lawyers, were

excellent men, clear-headed and accommodating. They gladly furnished me

with what little information they possessed.

_CHAPTER IV._

Before I left Montgomery on my return to the North, I became acquainted

with the local detective, McGibony, without letting him know who I was.

In accordance with a plan which I always carry out, of watching the

actions of those around me, I kept my eye on him, and found that he was

quite "thick" with Maroney. He boarded at the Exchange, drank with

Maroney in saloons, and even passed with him into the card-room at

Patterson's.

At this time McGibony had in his charge a distinguished prisoner, being

no less a personage than the old planter whom Johnson H. Hooper so

graphically described as "Simon Suggs;" by which name I will continue to

call him.

Suggs had been arrested for the commission of a series of misdemeanors,

but, as he was a great favorite, he was allowed the freedom of the city,

and was joyfully welcomed at the hotels and saloons.

Simon was about fifty-six years old, the dryest kind of a wit, and

extremely fond of his bitters. He lived about forty miles out from

Montgomery, on the Coosa river, but about a week prior to the time I saw

him, had come to Montgomery to see his friends. Simon's morality was not

of the highest order, and the first place he visited was Patterson's

saloon. Here he met a few congenial spirits, took several drinks with

them, and then, being "flush,"--a very unusual thing for him--he

proceeded to "buck the tiger." Like too many others, he bucked too long,

and soon found himself penniless. Not to be outdone, however, he rushed

out and borrowed one hundred dollars from a friend, promising to return

it the first thing in the morning. With this money he returned to the

unequal contest, but before long was again strapped.

In the morning, as he was walking along the street, in a very

penitential mood, he was accosted by his friend, who demanded of him the

one hundred dollars he had borrowed. Simon put on a very important air,

and in a tone of confidence which he was far from feeling, assured him

he should have the money before he left town.

As Simon strolled along, puzzling his brain as to how he could raise the

necessary funds to pay off his friend, he saw the tall, ungainly form of

a backwoods planter shuffling down the street towards him.

The planter was dressed in a suit of butternut, which had become very

much shrunken, from exposure to all kinds of weather. His coat sleeves

did not reach far below his elbows, and there was a considerable space

between the bottom of his breeches and the top of his shoes. He was as

"thin as a rail," and if he stood upright would have been very tall, but

he was bent nearly double. He had a slouched hat on, which partly

concealed his long, lantern-jawed visage, while his shaggy, uncombed

hair fell to his shoulders, and gave one a feeling that it contained

many an inhabitant, like that which caused Burns to write those famous

lines containing the passage:

"Oh, wad some power the giftie gie us,

To see _oursels_ as _ithers_ see us!"

As he came down the street he stopped occasionally and gawked around.

Simon was always ready for fun, and determined to see what the planter

was up to. Accordingly, as they met, Simon said, "Good mornin'!"

"Good mornin'!" replied the gawky.

"Have yer lost summat?" asked Simon.

"Wal, no, stranger, but I wants to git some money changed, and I'll be

durned if I can diskiver a bank in this yar village."

"Bin sellin' niggers, eh?"

"You're out thar," replied the planter. "I've bin sellin' cotton."

"I'm jist the man to help yer! I'm gwine to my bank. Gin me yer money,

and come along with me and I'll change it for yer!"

The gawky was much pleased at Simon's kind attention, and remarking that

"he reckoned he was the squarest man he had met," he turned over his

money--some four hundred dollars--to Simon, and they started off

together to get it changed.

On the road Simon stepped into a saloon with the planter, called up all

the inmates to take a drink, and telling the planter he would be back

with the money in a few minutes, started off.

Fifteen minutes passed away. The planter took several drinks, and began

to think his friend was a long time in getting the money changed, but

supposed he must be detained at the bank. At the end of half an hour he

began to grow decidedly uneasy, but still Simon did not come. At the

expiration of an hour he was furious, and if Simon had fallen into his

hands at that time, he would have doubtless been made mince meat of

unceremoniously.

Simon, on leaving the saloon, had gone to his friend and, out of the

poor planter's funds, had paid him the hundred dollars he owed him, and,

with the three hundred dollars in his pocket, started for Patterson's.

He proceeded to "buck the tiger," and soon lost nearly all of it. To see

if his luck would not change, he gave up the game, and started at

"roulette." Here he steadily won, and soon had over seven hundred

dollars in his possession. He was now all excitement, and jumped with

many a "whoop-la" around the table, to the great amusement of the

spectators. He was about to give up play, but they urged him on, saying

he had a run of luck, and should not give up till he broke the bank.

Thus encouraged, he played for heavy stakes, and was soon completely

"cleaned out," and left Patterson's without a cent.

He went to a friend and borrowed twenty-five dollars to help him out of

town. He was considered good for a small short loan; and going to his

hotel, he paid his bill, and mounting his dilapidated steed, started for

his home, forty miles distant, at as great a speed as he could get out

of his poor "Rosinante." In the South, men, women and children, always

make short journeys on horseback. Simon travelled for two hours, when he

reached the Coosa river, about fifteen miles from Montgomery. At this

point lived a wealthy widow, with whom he was well acquainted, and here

he determined to pass the night. He was joyfully welcomed by the widow,

who ordered one of her negroes to put up his horse and conducted him

into the house. She had a good supper prepared, Simon ate a hearty meal,

spent a few delightful hours in the widow's company, and was then shown

to his room. He was soon in the arms of Morpheus, and arose in the

morning as gay as a lark. Throwing open the casement, he let in the

fresh morning breeze and took in at a glance the rich Southern

landscape. Immediately below him, and sloping in well kept terraces to

the banks of the Coosa, was a trim garden, filled with flowers, among

which, in fine bloom, were numerous varieties of the rose. The sluggish

waters of the Coosa flowed without a ripple between its well wooded

banks, the trees on opposite sides often interlocking their branches.

Beyond the river was a wilderness of forest; the slaves were going to

their labor in the cotton fields, singing and chatting gaily like a

party of children. It was indeed a beautiful scene, and who could more

thoroughly appreciate the beautiful than Simon? Hurriedly dressing

himself, he went to the breakfast room, where he found waiting for him

the buxom widow, dressed in a loose morning robe, admirably adapted to

display the charms of her figure.

After a delicious repast of coffee and fruit the widow proposed that as

it was such a lovely morning they take a boat-ride on the river. Simon

willingly acquiesced, and the widow, after ordering a well filled

lunch-basket to be placed in the boat, not forgetting a "little brown

jug" for Simon, took his arm, and tripping gaily down to the river,

embarked. Simon pulled strongly at the oars until a bend of the river

hid them from view of the plantation, when, taking in the oars, he

seated himself by the widow, and placing an oar at the stern to steer

with, they glided down the river. Simon was married, but was a firm

believer in the theory advanced by Moore, that

--"when far from the lips we love,

We've but to make love to the lips we are near."

The persimmons hung in tempting bunches within easy reach overhead, and

Simon would pull them down and shower them into the widow's lap.

Occasionally he would steal his arm around her waist, when she, with a

coy laugh, would pronounce him an "impudent fellow." Occasionally he

would raise the little brown jug and take a hearty pull; finally he

stole a few kisses, the widow dropped her head resignedly on his

shoulder, and so they floated down the current, loving "not wisely, but

too well." On and on they floated, entirely oblivious of time, when they

were suddenly startled by a wild halloo. The widow started up with a

scream, and Simon grasped the oars as soon as possible. Just in front of

them, seated on his horse, and with his revolver ready cocked in his

hand, sat the deputy sheriff of Montgomery. "Simon Suggs," said he,

"jist you git out of that thar boat and come along with me; I've got a

warrant for your arrest!"

"Oh! hav yer?" said Simon, "that's all right; I'll jist take this yar

lady hum, git my critter, and come in to Montgomery."

"No," said the inexorable deputy, "that won't do, jist you git out of

that thar boat and come with me."

The widow now interposed, and in plaintive tone said, "But, sir, what

am I to do? It will never do for me to return without Mr. Suggs; what

will my niggers think of it? You, Mr. Deputy, can get into the boat with

us and go to my house; while you are eating dinner I will send one of my

niggers to fetch your horse."

The deputy was finally persuaded to take this course, and securing his

horse, he got into the boat.

It will now be necessary to relate how the deputy happened to appear at

such an inopportune moment for Simon. The planter, after awaiting the

return of Simon for over two hours, was informed by the saloon keeper to

whom he appealed, that he had entrusted his money to Simon Suggs, and

that his chances of ever seeing it again were poor indeed. On

discovering this he swore out a warrant against Simon and placed it in

the hands of the sheriff to execute.

The Sheriff found that Simon had left town, and immediately his deputy,

mounted on a fast horse, started in pursuit. The deputy passed Simon at

the widow's, and went directly to his house. He found Mrs. Suggs at

home, and demanded of her the whereabouts of Simon. Mrs. Suggs said she

did not pretend to keep track of him; that he was a lazy, shiftless

fellow, who never supported his family; that about a week previously he

had left home, and she had not set her eyes on him since.

The deputy informed her that Simon had committed a grave offense, and

that he had a warrant for his arrest.

Mrs. Suggs ended the interview by saying she always thought Simon would

come to a bad end, and slammed the door in the deputy's face.

The Deputy Sheriff passed the night at a friend's, and the next morning

retraced his steps, making inquiries along the road at the different

plantations, endeavoring to get some trace of Simon. When he reached the

widow's he was told by a slave that "Massa Simon" and the "Missus" had

shortly before gone down the river for a boat ride, and taking a short

cut through the fields he headed them off.

The return journey was against the current, and Simon was pulling away

at the oars, the perspiration starting in large drops from his forehead

and running down into his eyes, or streaking his cheeks, while the

deputy was gaily entertaining the widow, who was about equally divided

in her attentions. As they proceeded Simon would say, "A very deep place

here;" "bar here;" "push her off a little from that snag," etc., and the

deputy would occasionally supply the widow with persimmons. While in the

deepest part of the stream the widow discovered a splendid bunch of

persimmons hanging from a bough which reached to the centre of the

river. She declared she _must_ have them. Simon rested on his oars,

while the gallant deputy got on the seat, and by raising himself on his

tip toes, just managed to reach the bough, a good strong one, and,

grasping it with both hands, he proceeded to bend it down so as to reach

the fruit. At this inopportune moment Simon gave way to his oars, and

left the poor deputy hanging in the air.

[Illustration: _At this inopportune moment Simon gave way to his oars,

and left the poor deputy hanging in the air._--Page 40.]

"Hold on! hold on!" yelled the deputy; "don't you know you are

interfering with an officer of the law?"

"My advice ter you is to hold on yourself," was all the consolation he

got from Simon, while the widow was convulsed with laughter.

Leaving the deputy to extricate himself from his awkward position as

best he could, Simon rowed rapidly to the house, sent a negro to bring

the deputy's horse, and after eating an enormous lunch, mounted and

started for home.

The deputy hung to the limb and yelled for assistance, but no one came,

and he found he could hold on no longer. He could not swim, and he felt

that in dropping from the limb he would certainly meet a watery grave.

All his life he had had a horror of water, and now to be drowned in the

hated liquid was too hard. He made desperate efforts to climb up, on the

limb, but could not do it. His arms were so strained that he thought

they would be pulled from their sockets. He had strung many a negro up

by the thumbs to thrash him, but he little thought he should have been

strung up himself. His strength rapidly failed him, and he found he

could maintain his hold no longer. Closing his eyes, he strove to pray,

but could not. Finding the effort useless, he let go his hold, while a

cold shudder ran through his body--what a moment of supreme agony!--and

dropped into the river. Over such harrowing scenes it were better to

throw a veil of silence, but I must go on. He dropped into the river,

and as the water was only knee deep, he waded to the bank.

His combined emotions overcame him, and on reaching the bank he threw

himself down under the shade of some trees and, completely exhausted,

sunk into a deep sleep. How long he slept he could not tell, but on

awaking he sprang up and hurried to the place where he had left his

horse. Finding it gone, he walked into Montgomery and reported to the

Sheriff, not daring to face the widow after the ridiculous tableau in

which he had been the principal performer.

The Sheriff procured the services of McGibony, and the next day went

with him to Simon's home, and arrested him without difficulty.

In the North, Simon would have been kept a close prisoner; but the

fun-loving inhabitants of Montgomery looked on the whole transaction as

a very good joke, and Simon was decidedly "in clover," having liberty to

go where he wished, and being maintained at the county's expense.

I judged from the circumstances that McGibony was not to be trusted, and

concluded that authorities who could execute the law so leniently, would

be poor custodians for a prisoner of Maroney's stamp.

On my return trip to Chicago I stopped over at Rome, Ga., where

Maroney's father lived. I discovered that the doctor lived well,

although he was a man of small means. I took a general survey of the

town, and then went directly to Chicago.

_CHAPTER V._

On arriving in Chicago I selected Mr. Green to "shadow" Mrs. Maroney.

Giving him the same full instructions I had given the other operatives,

I despatched him for Montgomery. He arrived there none too soon.

Mrs. Maroney had grown rather commanding in her manners, and was very

arrogant with the servants in the house. She also found great fault with

the proprietor, Mr. Floyd, for not having some necessary repairs in her

room attended to.

One of the lady boarders, the wife of a senator, treated her with marked

coolness; and these various circumstances so worked on her high-strung

temperament that she was thrown into an uncontrollable fit of passion,

during which she broke the windows in her room.

The landlord insisted on her paying for them, but she indignantly

refused to do so. On his pressing the matter, she determined to leave

the house and make a trip to the North.

Porter had become quite intimate with the slave-servants in the

Exchange, and easily managed to get from them considerable information,

without attracting any special attention.

One of the servants, named Tom, was the bootblack of the hotel. He had a

young negro under him as a sort of an apprentice. The duties of the

apprentice, though apparently slight, were in reality arduous, as he had

to supply all the spittle required to moisten the blacking; and for this

purpose placed himself under a course of diet that rendered him as juicy

as possible.

Early in the morning Tom and his assistant would pass from door to door.

Stopping wherever they saw a pair of boots, they would at once proceed

to business. The helper would seize a boot and give a tremendous "hawk,"

which would cause the sleeping inmate of the room to start up in his bed

and rub his eyes. He would then apply the blacking and hand the boot to

Tom, who stood ready to artistically apply the polishing brush. During

the whole of this latter operation the little negro would dance a

breakdown, while Tom, seated on the chair brought for his accommodation,

would whistle or sing an accompaniment. By this time the inmate of the

room would have sprung from his bed, and rushed to the door, with the

intention of breaking their heads--not shins--but, on opening the door,

the scene presented would be so ludicrous that his anger would be

smothered in laughter, and Tom generally received a quarter, as he

started for the next door.

Sleep was completely vanquished by the time they had made their rounds,

and the greatest sluggard who ever reiterated "God bless the man who

first invented sleep," would find himself drawn from his downy pillow at

break of day, with never a murmur.

Tom was naturally of an enquiring turn of mind, and as he passed from

door to door saw and heard a good deal. Porter, by giving him an

occasional fee, had made Tom his fast friend, and he would often regale

him with bits of scandal about different boarders in the house.

On the evening of the same day that Mrs. Maroney had given way to her

temper, as Porter was passing through the hall of the hotel, he heard

peals of laughter emanating from the room used by Tom as his blacking

headquarters. Going in, he found Tom, perfectly convulsed with laughter,

rolling around amongst the blacking brushes and old shoes, while the

little negro, with his mouth wide open and eyes starting almost out of

his head, looked at him in utter astonishment.

"Why! what's the matter, Tom?" inquired Porter.

It was some time before Tom could answer, but he finally burst out with:

"Oh! golly, Massa Porter, you ought to see de fun. Missus 'Roney done

gone and smashed all de glass in de winder. I tell you she made tings

hot. Massa Floyd say she must pay for de glass, and she tole him she's

not gwine to stop in dis yer house a moment longer. Yah! yah! yah! Den

Massa 'Roney come, and he fly right off de handle, and tole Massa Floyd

he had _consulted_ his wife. Massa Floyd tole dem dey could go somewhere

else fur all he care. Massa 'Roney tole de missus to pack up and go to

de North, de fust ting in de morning. So Missus 'Roney is gwine to go

North. Wonder what she'll do thar, wid no niggers to confusticate? Yah!

yah! yah!"

Porter drew from the darkey full particulars of the affair, and also

that he had seen Maroney pass a large sum of money over to his wife.

Giving Tom a quarter, Porter hurried off after Green, and got him ready

to start the first thing in the morning. Bright and early on the twelfth

of March, Porter arose, and, _quite accidentally_, ran across Tom, who

had just come down with Mrs. Maroney's shoes.

"She is gwine, sure," said Tom! "she tole me to hurry up wid dese shoes.

Her and Massa 'Roney am habin a big confab, but dey talk so low, dis

nigger can't hear a word dey say."

Porter hurried Green to the train, and came back in time to see Maroney

get into a carriage, with his wife and her daughter Flora, and drive off

toward the station. Maroney secured for them a comfortable seat in the

ladies' car, and, bidding them good-bye, returned to the hotel.

Of course Green was on the same train, but, as I had instructed him, not

in the same car. He took a seat in the rear end of the car immediately

in front of the ladies' car, whence he could keep a sharp lookout on all

that went on.

Mrs. Maroney went directly to West Point, and from there to Charleston,

where she put up at the best hotel, registering "Mrs. Maroney and

daughter."

The next day, leaving Flora in the hotel, she made a few calls, and at

two P. M. embarked on the steamer for New York, Green doing the same.

They arrived at New York on the eighteenth and were met at the wharf by

a gentleman named Moore, who conducted Mrs. Maroney and Flora to his

residence. Green discovered afterwards that the gentleman was a partner

in one of the heaviest wholesale clothing-houses in the city.

He knew nothing further about Mr. or Mrs. Maroney than that Maroney had

treated him with a good deal of consideration at one time when he was

in Montgomery selling goods, and he had then requested Maroney and his

wife to stop at his house if they ever came to New York. Accordingly

Maroney telegraphed to him when his wife left Montgomery, informing him

how and when she would reach New York, and he was at the wharf to meet

her.

Mrs. Maroney and Flora were cordially welcomed by Mr. Moore and remained

at his house for some weeks. They were very hospitably entertained and

seemed to devote their whole time to social pleasures. Green shadowed

them closely and found that nothing of any importance was going on.

Porter remained in Montgomery, keeping in the good graces of Maroney and

his friends, not that Maroney easily took any one into his confidence;

on the contrary, although he was social with every one, he kept his

affairs closely to himself.

Porter never forced himself on Maroney's company, but merely dropped in,

apparently by accident, at Patterson's and other saloons frequented by

Maroney, and by holding himself rather aloof, managed to draw Maroney

towards him.

Maroney used to walk out of town towards the plantations, and Porter, by

making himself acquainted with the planters and overseers of the

surrounding country, discovered that Maroney's walks were caused by a

young lady, the daughter of a wealthy planter; but no new developments

were made in regard to the robbery.

I instructed Porter to "get in" with any slaves who might be employed as

waiters at Patterson's, and worm from them all the information possible

in regard to the habitués of the place.

There were several men with whom Maroney used to have private meetings

at the saloon, and Porter learned from one of the negroes what took

place at them. Maroney would take an occasional hand at euchre, but

never played for large stakes. There was little doubt but that he had a

share in the gambling bank. He frequented the stable where "Yankee Mary"

was kept, and often himself drove her out. From the way the parties at

Patterson's talked, the negro was positive that she belonged to Maroney.

He received several letters from his wife, which Green saw her post, and

Porter found he received in due time. So far all my plans had worked

well. The regular reports I received from my detectives showed that they

were doing their duty and watching carefully all that occurred. Porter,

about this time, learned that Maroney intended to make a business trip

through Tennessee, and that he would, in all probability, go to Augusta,

Ga., and New Orleans.

Everything tended to show that he was about to leave Montgomery, and I

put Roch, my Dutchman, on the alert. I wrote out full instructions and

sent them to Roch; ordered him to keep a strict watch on Maroney, as he

might be going away to change the money, and told him to telegraph me

immediately if anything happened. It was my intention to buy any money

he might get changed, as the bankers in Montgomery stated that they

would be able to identify some of the stolen bills. I warned Roch

against coming in contact with Maroney on his journey, as I surmised

that he was going away to see if he would be followed. This was

certainly his intention.

For some time I had feared that Maroney had some idea of Porter's

reasons for stopping in Montgomery, and felt that if he had, he would be

completely disabused of it by discovering that Porter did not follow

him. He was an uncommonly shrewd man and had formed a pretty good

opinion of detectives and of his ability to outwit them.

He had seen the best detectives from New York, New Orleans and other

places completely baffled. He expected to be followed by a gentlemanly

appearing man, who would drink and smoke occasionally, wear a heavy gold

watch chain, and have plenty of money to spend; but the idea of being

followed by a poor old Dutchman never entered his head.

I charged Roch not to pay any attention to Maroney or to appear to do so

until he started to leave Montgomery, and concluded by saying that I

felt I could trust him to do all in his power for the agency and for my

honor.

Maroney made his preparations for departure, all his movements being

closely watched by Porter.

_CHAPTER VI._

On the fifth of April Maroney, having completed his preparations,

started by the first train for Atlanta, _via_ West Point. The day was a

very warm one, but Maroney was accompanied to the station by a great

number of friends. With many a hearty shake of the hand they bade him

farewell, some of them accompanying him to the first, and some even to

the second station beyond Montgomery. No one could have started on a

journey under more favorable auspices.

Before the train started a German might have been seen slowly wending

his way to the depot. He had no slaves to follow, or wait upon him. No

one knew him, and the poor fellow had not a friend to bid him good-bye.

He went to the ticket office, and in broken English said: "I vants a

teeket for Vest Point;" and stood puffing at his pipe until the clerk

gave him his ticket, for which he paid, and took his seat in a car

called, in the South, the "nigger car." He had a rather large satchel,

and it must be confessed he was decidedly dirty, as he had been toiling

along a dusty road, under the hot Southern sun.

In about ten minutes after, Maroney arrived, with his numerous friends,

stepped on board, and the train slowly drew out of the station.

The German had taken a reversed seat in the rear of his car, and,

apparently indifferent to the lively conversation of the negroes around

him, slowly smoked his pipe. Maroney took a seat in the ladies' car,

talked with his friends, among whom were several ladies, and then had a

merry romp with a child. In about three-quarters of an hour he rose,

and, walking to the front of the car, scrutinized the faces of all the

passengers carefully. Our Dutchman gazed carelessly at him through the

window of the car in which he sat. Maroney passed through the "nigger

car," not thinking it worth while to take notice of its inmates, and

looking on the poor immigrant as no better than a negro. Then he went

into the express car, shook hands with the messenger, chatted with him a

moment, and passed on to the baggage car. At the first station he

stepped off, met several friends, and was well received by all. The

conductor collected no fare from him, as he had been a conductor at one

time, and that chalked his hat "O. K."

He left the train at every station, looked keenly around with an eye

that showed plainly that he was fighting for liberty itself, and then

returning, passed through it, carefully examining the faces of the

passengers. By the time they reached West Point he had regained his old

firmness--at least the German thought so.

If any one had watched, they might have seen the German go to the ticket

office in West Point and, in broken language, inquire for a ticket to

Atlanta. Having procured his ticket, he went immediately to the

second-class car and continued his journey with Maroney.

At West Point Maroney met several friends, who all sympathized with him.

After drinking with them he went to the train and into the express car,

although it is strict rule of the company that no one but the messenger

shall be allowed in it. The rule is often broken, especially in the

South, where the polite messengers dislike to ask a gentleman to leave

their car. The German took in all that was going on, but who cared for

him? poor, stupid dolt! Maroney remained in the express car a short

time, and then again passed through the train, but discovered nothing to

cause him the slightest uneasiness.

On arriving at Atlanta he proceeded to the Atlanta House, and was given

a room. The German arrived at the hotel soon after him, and throwing

down his satchel, asked, in his broken English, for a room. The clerk

scarcely deigning to notice him, sent him to the poorest room the house

afforded.

Roch, finding that no train left until morning, amused himself with

another smoke, at the same time noticing that Maroney was well received

by the clerk, whom he knew, and by all the conductors and gentlemen who

frequented the hotel. His journey had been almost an entire ovation, and

he had become almost completely self-possessed.

At eleven he retired for the night. Roch, after waiting for some time,

walked noiselessly down the hall to Maroney's room, and listened at the

door. Finding all quiet, he walked down to the office, got the key to

his room, and went to bed.

He got up early in the morning and, with Maroney, took an early

breakfast. He kept a close watch on him, and learned from the

conversation of some of Maroney's friends, to whom he had divulged his

plans, where he was going, and by what route he intended to pursue his

journey. He said that he should be gone some five weeks, but would

return to Montgomery in time to prepare for his trial.

Some of his friends alluded to his arrest for the robbery. He smiled,

and said they would soon find that he was not the guilty party; and

moreover, that the Express Company would find that it would cost them a

good deal before they got through with him, as, after his acquittal, he

would certainly sue them for heavy damages. He knew the wealth of the

company, and that they would "leave no stone unturned" to ruin him, but

he had no fears as to the result, when the facts were laid before a jury

of his countrymen.

He had many acquaintances at Atlanta, and gave himself up to enjoyment.

Roch wrote to me that if he had started out with the expectation of

being followed, he had no such fears now. In the evening Maroney

complained to the clerk about his room, and Roch became uneasy when he

found he had moved to another part of the house. He feared that Maroney

might leave town by some private conveyance, and so kept a close watch

on his movements. He staid up until a late hour, but finding that

Maroney was safe in bed, finally retired. At a very early hour in the

morning he was stirring and patiently waited for Maroney to get up.

Maroney soon came down, apparently in the best of spirits, and ordered

his trunk, a very large one, to be taken to the depot. Roch was seized

with a desire to go through this trunk, and determined to do so if he

possibly could. He had not seen it at Montgomery as it came down with

the other baggage, and one of Maroney's friends had had it checked and

handed the check to him when on the train. His desire was useless, as

he was not destined to see the inside of the trunk, at least not for the

present. He wrote to me of Maroney's having the trunk, and said I might

rely on his examining it if he possibly could.

Maroney took the train for Chattanooga, still paying no fare. Roch

bought a second class ticket and they were soon under way. When about

one hour out from Atlanta Maroney passed through the train eyeing all

the well-dressed men on board, of whom there were a great many, but

paying no attention to the inmates of the "nigger car." He saw no cause

for uneasiness, and soon became the happiest man on board. He passed

through the cars several times before the train reached Chattanooga, and

his spirits seemed to rise after each inspection. When they arrived at

Chattanooga. Maroney put up at the Crutchfield House, and being very

tired did not go out that evening. He seemed well acquainted with the

clerk and some of the guests, drank several times with his friends, and

went to his room quite early. Roch wrote to me from the Crutchfield

House, where he had also put up, giving me a detailed account of all

that had happened, and in a postscript said "Maroney has not the

slightest idea that he is being followed, and all is serene." In the

morning Maroney sauntered around the city, apparently with no particular

object in view, but dropping into some of the stores to visit his

friends. Finally he went into a lawyer's office where he remained some

time. Roch took up a position where he could watch the office without

being observed. At last Maroney came out of the office with a gentleman,

went into a saloon with him, where they drank together, and then

returned to the hotel to dinner. After dinner he smoked until about two

o'clock, and then walked out and started up the main street of the town,

towards the suburbs. The day was intensely warm, and there were few

people stirring in the streets. When Maroney reached the suburbs he

stopped and looked suspiciously around. He took no notice of the German,

who was walking along wrapped up in his pipe, his only consolation.

Being satisfied that no one was following him, he turned around the

corner and suddenly disappeared.

When Roch got to the corner he could not see Maroney in any direction.

There were blocks of fine houses on both sides of the street, and he was

certain Maroney was in one of them. But which one? That he could not

tell. He did not like to leave the neighborhood, but it would not do to

stay. There were few persons on the street, and if he lingered around

the corner he would surely be noticed and suspected. He walked very

slowly around the square, but discovering nothing, and fearing that he

might alarm the quiet neighborhood, he went back to the hotel. He was

now at the end of his rope. He was certain Maroney was in one of the

houses, and feared that he was getting the money changed. He might have

brought it with him, concealed it on his person, and taken it with him

to the house he was now in. Terribly disappointed, he sat down and wrote

to me for instructions, thinking that my letter in reply would most

likely reach him in Chattanooga. At dusk he went out to the suburbs, but

did not find a trace of Maroney. Returning to the hotel, he found that

no train left till morning, and weary and worn he went to his room, and

in a most despondent mood, soon retired. Early in the morning he came

down but there was no sign of Maroney. He determined to peep into his

room, and fortunately managed to do so without being discovered, finding

his trunk and a bundle of soiled linen still there. Somewhat reassured,

he took his breakfast and went down to see the train off. The train

started, but Maroney not putting in an appearance, Roch began to feel

that he must have been outwitted. As he retraced his steps to the hotel

he was astonished to see Maroney on his way to the same place. Roch

having once more got his eye on him, determined, if possible, to find

out where he had passed the previous night. He thought the matter over,

and concluded that for many reasons it would be best to change his

boarding place. The people at the hotel did not think much of a poor

German, and might conclude he could not pay his bill, and as he did not

wish to guarantee payment, he went to his room, brought down his

satchel, and going to the office, paid his bill. He had seen a German

boarding-house down the street, so taking his satchel in his hand, he

went in and enquired if they had a room to spare. He found they had, and

on glancing around discovered that the change in many respects was for

the better, as from the boarding-house he had a clear view of all that

occurred in front of the hotel.

He did not see Maroney again until evening, when he came out, looking

fresh and bright, having evidently refreshed himself by a bath and a

shave.

Maroney went into a saloon, talked to several parties, strolled

leisurely around, returned to the hotel, passed the evening till ten

o'clock with a party of gentlemen, and then retired.

Roch rose early, and found that the landlord, who, like most of his

countrymen, possessed the good habit of being an early riser, had

breakfast ready. After breakfast he took a seat on the verandah, and

watched Maroney as he loitered around. At two in the afternoon Maroney

sauntered out, and started in the direction of the suburbs.

Roch concluded he was going to the place where he had lost him the day

before, and now he had the coveted opportunity of finding his hiding

place.

Walking slowly after him, smoking his pipe and gaping around, until he

reached a cross-street, a block from where Maroney had disappeared

before, he turned down this street, walked rapidly until he reached the

next street running parallel to the one Maroney was on, and turning up

it he ran to the corner above, where he got behind the fence, as if

urged by a pressing necessity. From his position he could see down the

street without being seen.

In a moment Maroney reached the corner, a block from him. Looking

around, as before, he pulled his hat over his eyes, and, walking rapidly

part way down the block, he entered a comfortable looking

frame-building. It was painted a creamy white, and its windows were

protected by the greenest of green blinds.

_CHAPTER VII._

Roch walked around for some time, and then returned to his

boarding-house. Finding no one but the landlord and the bar-keeper in

the saloon, he bought a bottle of wine, and asked them to join him in

drinking it. They gladly consented, and he entered into a conversation

with them, in which he pretended to give them a history of his life, and

his plans for the future.

He complimented the city very highly, saying that he was so much pleased

with it that he had determined to buy some property there. He then

informed them that he had been looking at some houses, and wished to get

the landlord's opinion of them. He--the landlord--had been in the city

for many years, and must be well acquainted with the value of property.

Roch now called for another bottle of wine, and proceeded to describe

some of the houses at which he had been looking. He described several,

but one in particular, he said, had taken his fancy; and he then

described the house Maroney had entered, saying further that he thought

there were several ladies there.

The landlord looked at his bar-keeper and winked, and then giving Roch a

poke in the ribs, said, with a hearty laugh: "Oh! you have found them

out, have you?" Then, with another poke: "You're a sly fellow, you are,"

and burst into a roar of laughter, in which he was heartily joined by

the bar-keeper.

Roch pretended not to comprehend what they meant, and turned the

conversation to other subjects. He felt very happy when he discovered

the character--or rather want of character--of the house, as he now knew

the business Maroney was engaged in.

Maroney did not make his appearance up to the time the train left, so

Roch retired.

Early in the morning he arose, ate his breakfast, and was surprised to

see Maroney, who must have returned in the night, just coming out of the

hotel. Seeing Maroney's trunk just being placed on the baggage wagon, he

hastily paid his bill at the boarding-house, and managed to reach the

station some time in advance of Maroney.

In about half an hour Maroney came up and bought a first-class ticket

for Nashville. Roch bought a second-class ticket to the same place, and

took up his old position in the "nigger car."

Nothing of importance happened between Chattanooga and Nashville.

At Nashville Maroney put up at the City Hotel, while Roch obtained

lodgings at a German saloon just around the corner.

Maroney met plenty of friends, who received him warmly. He amused

himself by going to the livery stables, looking at the horses, and

driving around the city. He met a gentleman and passed a good deal of

time with him, but had no business transactions with him; merely using

him as a companion to help kill time. The weather was all that could be

desired, and Maroney was "gay as a lark."

The second day after his arrival in Nashville, he went into a

jeweler's, and remained over three-quarters of an hour: came out, and at

the end of three hours again went in, this time stopping over an hour.

When he came out Roch discovered that he had a parcel in his hand, and

concluded that he had made a purchase. He at once reported the incident

to me.

The third day, at train time, the trunk was again brought down. Roch

went to the depot, wondering what could be the meaning of this move, as

the train about to start would take them back to Chattanooga.

His suspense was soon put at rest, by Maroney's coming down and buying a

ticket to Chattanooga. Roch followed suit, and they were soon on their

backward track.

Maroney passed through the cars, scrutinizing the passengers, neglecting

those in the "nigger car," as heretofore, which was the only incident of

the trip to Chattanooga.

Here he again put up at the Crutchfield House, while Roch went back to

his German boarding-house. He made some excuses to account for his

sudden return, but they were unnecessary, for, so long as he paid his

bill regularly, the landlord was perfectly satisfied.

The next morning Maroney visited a livery stable owned by a man named

Cook, who was a great favorite. He was said to have a horse which could

out-trot anything in the city. Cook and Maroney drove out several times

with this horse, and Maroney examined him critically. He was a good

judge of horseflesh, and when he was excited would fairly carry a person

away with his vivid description of the delights of "tooling" along

behind a fast horse.

Roch could not certainly tell whether Maroney had bought the horse or

not, but judged he had, as he heard Cook tell Maroney that he should

expect to see him on his return to Chattanooga.

After leaving Cook, Maroney sauntered out to see his fair, but frail

friends. Roch left him there and returned to have a good time with his

countrymen. He had ordered up a bottle of wine, and the landlord and he

were just about to have a game of euchre when he accidentally glanced up

at the hotel.

It was fortunate he did so, as whom should he see going in at the main

entrance but Maroney. He hastily excused himself from the game and

walked out. He had gone hardly a block from his boarding-house before

Maroney came down and got into a carriage. He had gone at once to his

room, ordered his trunk down, paid his bill and was now being hurried to

the depot.

Roch followed as fast as he could. Maroney had allowed himself barely

enough time to check his trunk and step upon the train as it moved off,

so that Roch had to start without his satchel and without buying a

ticket. He did not think much of the loss of his baggage, that little

loss being more than compensated by the joy he felt at not having lost

his man.

He had not the slightest idea where Maroney was going, but took up his

old position in the "nigger car" and watched closely. When the conductor

came around to Maroney, Roch noticed two things: first, that Maroney

bought a through ticket to Memphis; and second, that the conductor did

not know him. Wherever he had gone before, he had met friends, but now

he had left them all behind. Roch followed Maroney's lead and bought a

second class ticket to Memphis.

Maroney, though utterly unconscious of the fact, was as much in the

power of Roch as was Sindbad the Sailor in the power of the little old

man who clung to his neck with a grasp that could not be loosened.

Although, literally, Roch did not touch him, figuratively he held him

with a grasp of iron, and all Maroney's efforts to shake him off would

have proved waste of time and strength.

A storm was impending when they left Chattanooga and it had now burst

upon them in a perfect fury. Night had set in, but flash after flash of

lightning lit up the sky. One moment, objects were rendered distinctly

visible as they dashed by, the next they were lost in gloom. The sparks

from the locomotive were quenched in the falling torrent and the roar of

the train was silenced by the loud peals of thunder.

It was a wild night, but Roch got on the platform to make sure of

Maroney. There were no sleeping-cars at the time and he had no trouble

in getting a good view of him. Maroney was stretched out on his seat

fast asleep. He watched him for some time, and then concluding that

there was little danger of his attempting to leave the car on such a

night, he went back to his seat in the "nigger car."

Ever since he had left Montgomery, Maroney had been executing a series

of strategic movements, and now that he had undoubtedly thrown his

pursuers, if there were any, off his track, why should he not ease his

overwrought mind by sleep, that sweetest of all consolers?

The next morning they arrived in Memphis. The storm had passed away,

but had left mementoes in the fresh and balmy air and in the muddy

streets. Maroney stopped at the Gayosa House. Roch found it an easy

matter to move his baggage, and walked off with his hands in his

pockets, wondering where he could get a clean shirt. He put up at a

saloon where he could keep an eye on Maroney, and having bought some new

shirts and a second-hand satchel, he felt once more that he was a

respectable man.

From Memphis Roch wrote to me, informing me "that all was well; that

Maroney seemed perfectly at ease and confident that if any one had

followed him, he had, by his retrograde movement, thrown him entirely

off the scent." He had not the slightest idea what would be Maroney's

next move, but was certain he could keep track of him.

Maroney appeared familiar with Memphis, but had no friends there, and

amused himself loitering around, occasionally going into a saloon. The

second day of his stay Roch observed him write and post a letter. Then

he visited the livery stables, admired some of the fine horses and

afterwards strolled down to the wharf, where the steamer "John Walsh"

was being loaded with cotton and tobacco. He went on board and looked

over the Walsh, saw the clerk and entered into conversation with him.

Roch heard the clerk say that the steamer would leave in about two

hours, and concluded that Maroney was going down the river on her.

Maroney returned to the Gayosa House and paid his bill, which caused

Roch to hurry to his boarding-house, pay his bill, and with his newly

acquired treasure, the old satchel, hasten to the river and take a

steerage passage to New Orleans on the John Walsh. He was a little

afraid that Maroney might begin to notice him and found it necessary to

use the utmost caution. Before embarking on the Walsh he laid in a stock

of "bolognas," a few pounds of the rankest "Sweitzer kase" and an

abundance of "pretzels."

Coming down to the boat some time before Maroney, he filled his pipe and

took a seat where he could watch all that went on. After some time

Maroney drove up in a carriage, had his trunk carried up to his

state-room, and, lighting his cigar, took a seat and watched the

movements of the crew who were employed in taking on the cargo. It was a

busy scene: the negroes toiled along under the burning sun, lightening

their labors with a merry boatman's song. Their burdens were heavy, but

their hearts were light.

Maroney, instead of looking down on them with the contempt he did,

should have longed for their content and happiness. The meanest of them

possessed what he never could possess--"a contented mind."

In less than half an hour the steamer's bell was rung, friends hurriedly

bade each other good-bye, the gang-planks were hauled in, and the John

Walsh was soon snorting down the river. The decks and cabins of the

Walsh were crowded with passengers; ladies handsomely dressed, planters

going to New Orleans on business or pleasure; tourists making a trip

down the Mississippi for the first time, and being charmed with the

variety of the scenes around them: all was life, gaiety and animation.

Although Maroney would have generally mingled with the passengers, "the

gayest of the gay," he now kept entirely aloof from them. He was

oppressed by the "weight of his secret," and sought "by solitary

musings" to ease his mind. He read a little, glanced at the scenery

along the river, landed and walked around at the different places where

the steamer stopped, but kept entirely to himself.

_CHAPTER VIII._

Nothing occurred worthy of note until they arrived at Natchez, but here

Roch was much amazed to see Maroney's trunk being put on the wharf-boat.

He knew it was the custom of the managers of the wharf-boats to allow

baggage to be left on the wharf, and to collect a small sum for storage;

so he took his satchel and placed it near Maroney's trunk.

He left the boat just in time to see Maroney take the only carriage that

happened to be at the river when the steamer arrived, and drive rapidly

up the hill. He knew that he could get plenty of carriages in a few

minutes, but by that time where would Maroney be? His only sure method

was to follow him at once, and trust to finding a conveyance on the

hill. He followed as fast as he could, and just as he got to the top of

the hill was fortunate enough to meet a negro driving an express wagon.

He immediately struck a bargain with him to drive him around town for a

dollar an hour.

Roch, in his excitement had dropped his German accent, and spoke

uncommonly good English for an immigrant; but the negro, being a very

good talker himself, did not remark it. By Roch's direction the driver

followed on straight up the street in the same direction Maroney had

taken.

Maroney got out of the carriage and went into a store.

It would not do for Roch to wait on the express wagon for Maroney's

reappearance. He, therefore, instructed his driver to await his return,

and stepped into a store, from which, while he was examining some goods,

he could also keep an eye on Maroney's carriage.

What Maroney was doing in the store, was a problem which Roch would have

liked to solve.

In about fifteen minutes Maroney came out, and appearing familiar with

the town, directed his driver where to take him. He was driven to a

comfortable looking house; the negro driver saying something to him, and

motioning toward it. Maroney answered, and the hackman drove away, while

Maroney went into the house.

Roch was now at a loss what steps to take. The hack driver had not been

paid, and in all probability would return for Maroney. If he watched the

house, he might be discovered from behind the blinds; so he determined

to keep his eye on the hack driver. The hackman drove leisurely down to

a saloon, fastened his horses, and went in. Roch opened conversation

with his driver, and found that he was a slave, but that he had got

permission from his master to hire himself out, for which privilege he

paid one hundred dollars a month. After working for some time he had

been enabled to purchase the horse and wagon he drove, and as he was

making money, hoped in a few years to have enough to purchase his own

freedom. Roch concluded he could gain from him some information as to

Maroney's driver, so he carelessly asked him if the hack driver was also

hired out.

"Yes, sah, him ib my cousin," said Sambo.

Roch supposed the negro must have had his _quasi_ freedom, from seeing

him go into a saloon, as the planters never allow their slaves to go

into drinking-places; not because they think it immoral, but because the

slaves would most likely become unfit for work.

Roch asked the negro if he knew where they kept good brandy.

"Golly, ib you want good licker, dis yer sloon is de place to find it!"

"Drive up, and we will sample some of it," ordered Roch.

Sambo willingly obeyed, and they went into the saloon. Roch again

assumed his German accent. The two negroes at once recognized each

other, and Roch, in his broken way, said:

"Vel, poys, vat vill you haf?"

The niggers grinned from ear to ear, and replied:

"De same ab you, boss."

"Barkeeper, you haf any lager got? Nein? Och, mine Got, dis ish von h--l

of a blace! Notting put prandy und vhisky! I pelieves I vill go by

Yarmany the steamer next. Vell, give us dree prandys! Trink hearty,

poys. Mine frient," continued he, turning to the hackman, "your peesness

ish goot? No?"

"Yes, sah! I always dribes the gemmen what comes on de steamer. Ya, ha!

Dey nearly all goes to de same place. Dis mornin' a gemmen come on de

steamer, an' say, 'Here, you nigga, dribe me as fas' as you can to

Mudder Bink's.' I'se yer man, says I; an' golly, didn't I make dose

hosses trabel! I was gwine like de debil when he stop me, an' went to de

store. Den I took him to Madam's, and he say, 'Here, Sambo, you jus' go

down town, an' come fur me in two hours;' an' I's gwine back, an' if

dis yer nigga don't get a fiver for his trouble, den dis court don't

know itself!"

"Mudder Beenk's?" exclaimed Roch. "Who vas das?"

"Yah, yah, yah," roared both the darkies. "You don' know Mudder Binks!

Why, she keeps de finest gals on all de ribber."

[Illustration: _"Yah, yah, yah," roared both the darkies, "you don't

know Mudder Binks! why she keeps the finest gals on all de

ribber."_--Page 69.]

Roch was happy when he heard this, as he was now positive that Maroney

was not taking any action to cover up the robbery; so he settled with

the expressman, and returned to the wharf-boat to look after Maroney's

trunk. He saw that the trunk was still where it had been left, and on

going on board of the steamer, found that most of the passengers had

taken advantage of their long stay, and were visiting in the town. Roch

took a seat on the wharf-boat, near the office. He puffed away at his

pipe for some time, staring vacantly around, when he heard a carriage

rattling down the hill. In a moment it stopped, and looking up Roch saw

Maroney almost leaning over him and conversing with a gentleman in the

office.

"Are you the agent of Jones's Express?" he asked.

"Yes," replied the gentleman.

"I thought your office was up the hill. Have you received a package

for --------?" (Roch did not catch the name.)

The gentleman looked over his book, and said:

"No, nothing; but it may have been detained in the New Orleans office."

This was the substance of the conversation.

Maroney went into the office and remained some five minutes, then came

out, and seemed debating some subject in his mind.

The first bell of the Walsh was rung. He hurriedly ordered his trunk on

board, and embarked, closely followed by Roch, "mit his satchel." They

proceeded quietly on their journey until they reached New Orleans, where

Maroney secured a hack and was driven to the City Hotel. He passed the

day walking around, lost in thought, and studying some subject deeply.

During the day Roch concluded that Maroney was going to make a decided

move. But what would it be? He had no one to advise him; none from whom

he could seek counsel, and he was at a loss what to do.

In this strait he telegraphed to me, in Chicago, detailing his

predicament, and asking instructions. He was much surprised at receiving

an answer from Philadelphia, where I then was. I telegraphed him in

cipher, congratulating him on his success so far, and told him not to

mind the loss of his baggage; but to change his disguise, and rig

himself up as a dashing Southerner. Accordingly, the first thing in the

morning, he took a bath, had had his face clean shaven, and, going to

the clothing and other furnishing stores, soon procured a fashionable

outfit.

When he was dressed in his new clothes, what a metamorphosis had he

made, from the clod-hopping Dutchman to the gay, genteel and courteous

citizen! I telegraphed to him that I thought success was almost in his

grasp, and to keep a constant lookout.

He took a room in the City Hotel, and was very much pleased, on coming

into the breakfast room, to find Maroney there. He had to look twice

before he was certain of his man, as Maroney had also changed his

appearance. He had donned a suit of city clothes, had changed the cut of

his whiskers, had had his hair cut short, and had altered his entire

appearance. Now commenced the chase in earnest.

Maroney walked around the hotel, with his hands in his pockets,

occasionally glancing out of the window. Finally he went out on the

street and walked rapidly around. He would walk hurriedly up one street,

cut across, and come down another, and then pass to the point from which

he started, always retracing his steps, and doubling on his track.

The thought at once flashed through Roch's mind that he was endeavoring

to discover if he was followed; and, seeing through his movements, Roch

took up his position at the base of operations, and, as Maroney started

up one street, he waited quietly on the corner, and always found that

Maroney would come around past him in a short time. Maroney spent the

whole morning at these manoeuvres, trying to discover if he was

followed, Roch having much the advantage of him, in being able to keep

watch of him by walking only a fourth of the distance.

I kept the telegraph working, and Roch would take advantage of Maroney's

doublings on his track, to rush to the telegraph office, send a despatch

to me, and, in a short time, rush back for the answer. I informed him

that I did not believe that Maroney had any suspicions of him, but was

keeping a sharp lookout for any of the employés of the Adams Express

Company who might know him, and who were numerous in New Orleans. He

knew the New Orleans detectives who had been employed on the ten

thousand dollar robbery, and had everything to fear from them. He might

run across the General Superintendent of the Southern Division at any

moment, and wished to avoid him if possible.

I impressed on Roch the necessity of the strictest watch. I must confess

that I felt feverish and excited at having Roch all by himself watching

the movements of Maroney, in a place of the size of New Orleans, and if

it had been possible I should have placed more men around him; but that

was now out of the question, and all I could do was to rely on Roch. I

communicated all the facts, as I received them, to the Vice-President,

who was with me.

In the afternoon Maroney strolled down the street and turned into the

Adams Express office. Roch knew no one in the office, and, as this last

move of Maroney's greatly puzzled him, he telegraphed to me for

instructions. I consulted with the Vice-President, and replied: "Trust

no one. Rely on yourself alone." Roch got the answer in about an hour,

during which time Maroney remained in the Express office.

On leaving the Express office, he went to a daguerrean gallery, remained

some time, and then went to the hotel. On Saturday Maroney again went to

the daguerrean gallery and received a package, which Roch supposed

contained his pictures. He telegraphed me to this effect, and, on a

moment's consideration of the incident, I ordered him to procure a copy

of the picture from the gallery if he possibly could. From the gallery

Maroney proceeded to the amphitheatre of Spaulding & Rogers, on St.

Charles street, and Roch, feeling certain that he would remain at

least an hour, went to the telegraph office, sent the above despatch,

and as soon as he received the answer, went directly to the daguerrean

gallery.

He was now the dashing Southerner, and as he gaily entered the gallery,

twirling his handsome cane, he was welcomed by a pleasant smile from a

young lady, an octoroon, who was the only occupant of the room. Although

of negro extraction, it was scarcely discernable, and moreover she was

possessed of most engaging manners. Roch entered into conversation with

her, in the course of which he asked if his friend who called up the day

before, and whom he described, did not have his picture taken. She said

he did, and that she had one left, which was not a very good one. Roch

asked leave to look at it, and she hunted it up and handed it to him. He

immediately recognized it, and giving her a five dollar bill, became its

owner. So much for brass. Thanking the lady, and also thanking his stars

that the proprietor of the gallery was out when he called, he returned

to the amphitheatre. Maroney came out and went to the hotel, where they

both took dinner. After dinner Maroney walked up and down the reception

room, pondering deeply over some subject, and then took some paper and a

pencil from his pocket. Roch watched him closely as he seated himself to

write, and concluded that he was trying to disguise his hand-writing.

Maroney finished and folded the note, and taking his hat, walked out on

the street. As soon as he reached the sidewalk, he began to limp badly,

as though it was almost impossible for him to get along. "Strange,"

thought Roch, "he cannot have met with an accident!" In a short time a

colored boy came along. Maroney stopped him, talked to him a moment,

then gave him the note and the boy ran off, while he remained in the

same place.

[Illustration: "_As he gaily entered the gallery twirling his handsome

cane, he was welcomed by a pleasant smile from a young lady, an

octoroon._"--Page 73.]

What would Roch now not have given to have been able to cut himself in

two, leaving one part of himself to watch Maroney while the other

followed the boy? This, however, being one of the few things that he

could _not_ do, he was obliged to let the boy go while he watched

Maroney. The affair seemed to have come to the sticking point. Maroney's

face showed deep anxiety, and his limping was all a sham. The boy had

taken a note to some place, but where, was the question.

In about twenty minutes the boy returned and said something to Maroney,

but what it was Roch could not find out. Maroney handed the boy some

money and he immediately ran off, while the former dropped his limp,

walked to the hotel, and went at once to his room.

_CHAPTER IX._

Roch walked carelessly past the door of Maroney's room and saw him

busily engrossed in packing up. He lost no time. Where Maroney was going

he did not know. He rushed to the office, paid his bill, went to his

room, changed his clothes, and in less than ten minutes issued from the

hotel, again the plodding Dutchman. Aladdin with his wonderful lamp,

could not have brought about a much more rapid transformation. As he

reached the sidewalk, Maroney had just stepped into a hack, and he heard

him order the driver to get to the steamboat landing as soon as

possible. Roch, with his long pipe and old satchel, followed on behind,

and the citizens he met gazed in wonder to see a sleepy Dutchman travel

at such a rate.

The "Mary Morrison," one of the fast boats of the river, was just

casting off from the wharf as they arrived, and they had barely time to

get on board. Roch had taken up his old quarters in the steerage, and

thoroughly enjoyed the beautiful view as they steamed up past the famous

Crescent City. He had now time to wipe the sweat from his brow, and

wonder what place Maroney was going to. He concluded that he was going

back to Montgomery by way of Memphis. True, it was rather an out of the

way route, but such seemed to be the sort that Maroney preferred. He

could not tell to what point Maroney would pay his fare, but as Memphis

seemed to be the objective point, he took a through second class ticket

to that place. The first one hundred and fifty miles of the journey up

the river is though the richest and most beautiful part of Louisiana.

This part of the river is known as the coast, and is lined on both sides

by waving fields of cane, interspersed with orange groves. Alligators

lie basking in the sun, and the whole scene speaks of the tropics.

Beautiful as was the country, it had no charms for Maroney. His mind was

occupied with other thoughts, and he paced up and down the deck as if

anxious to get to the end of his journey.

All went quietly until they reached Natchez, "under the hill," when Roch

was again astonished to see Maroney's trunk being placed on the wharf

boat. He could not understand this move, but had nothing to do but to

follow. Maroney loitered around the wharf-boat, seeming to have no

business to attend to, but when the Morrison steamed up the river, he

advanced to the agent of Jones' Express, had a brief conversation with

him, paid him some money, and an old trunk was delivered to him. Maroney

did not seem to place any value on the trunk, and had it put carelessly

along with his other baggage. Strange indeed, thought Roch, what can he

want with that old trunk? It was an old box, painted black, and thickly

studded with nails. It was a shaky looking affair, and did not look as

if it would stand much of a chance with a modern "baggage smasher." It

had some old tags pasted on it, which showed where it had been. One

which was partly scraped off, read Montgomery, another Galveston, and

still another New Orleans.

There was nothing to show that it was of any consequence, and Roch

looked carelessly at it, as Maroney had left it carelessly on the

wharf-boat, along with his other trunk, and sauntered up the hill.

Maroney put up at the hotel, still leaving his baggage in charge of the

agent of Jones's Express,--who was also proprietor of the wharf-boat.

Roch followed Maroney up town, but, as he did not know when the boats

arrived going up or down the river, and as it began to grow dark, he

concluded he had better stay on the wharf-boat and keep track of the

luggage. Maroney might leave at any hour of the night, as, on the

Mississippi it is not an uncommon occurrence for an unexpected boat to

land or take off passengers with little or no delay, even at the dead of

night. So he got some lunch, and lay around the wharf-boat, as many poor

people do while travelling. Maroney did not come down during the night,

but Roch felt perfectly easy, so long as he kept the trunks in view.

In the morning a steamer came along, bound down the river. Maroney made

his appearance, but paid no attention to the poor immigrant, whom he

considered beneath his notice. He had his trunks placed on board, and

took passage for New Orleans. Roch was all amazement, and could not

understand why such a chase should have been made after an old trunk. He

was inclined to think that Maroney must have had some business with the

store-keeper in Natchez, but what sort of business he could not

determine. He was sure something had been done in New Orleans or at

Natchez. It might have been with the _ladies_ on the hill, or with the

negro and the lame foot. Whatever it was, it was completely covered up.

He managed to telegraph these particulars to me, at one of the places

where the steamer stopped, and I instructed him to keep right on, and

that I would answer more fully in time.

On arriving in New Orleans, Maroney again put up at the City Hotel,

while Roch went to a neighboring restaurant, to get some refreshments,

intending afterwards to change his clothes, and make his appearance as

the dashing Southerner. He had just finished his meal, when, on looking

over to the City Hotel, he saw Maroney getting into a carriage, on which

his two trunks were already placed. He rushed out as Maroney drove off

in the direction of the depot where passengers take the cars for

Pontchartrain, and then go by steamer to Mobile.

He had to make quick time again, and was fortunate enough to secure the

services of a negro drayman who had a fast horse. With this assistance

he got to the station "on time," and, securing a second-class ticket to

Mobile, was soon away on another route.

After reaching Pontchartrain, and embarking on the steamer, Maroney

seemed happier than he had yet been, and walked around the deck, singing

and whistling, apparently overflowing with good spirits. As his spirits

rose, Roch's fell in a corresponding degree. He was unable to understand

the cause of this change; everything seemed confused to him, and he did

not know what to do. He finally concluded that Maroney had left

Montgomery, going to Atlanta, Chattanooga, Nashville, Memphis, etc.,

merely to see if he would be followed, and now, finding he had not

been, he was returning home in a perfectly easy frame of mind.

So much at least had been done. Roch knew that all his actions had met

with my approval. I was the responsible party, and if I was satisfied,

he was. In the meantime, I was unable to form a definite opinion as to

the reason for the change which had evidently taken place in Maroney.

There was no denying but that something had happened to give him more

courage, and it flashed through my mind: Has he got the money?

I thought nothing about the old trunk, as, if he had had anything

valuable in it, he would not have left it so carelessly exposed, at the

stations, on the wharf-boat, etc. All I could do was to carry out my old

plan: "Watch and wait."

Roch, on the journey to Mobile, took a seat on this identical trunk; he

saw nothing suspicious about the old thing, which was not even locked,

but tied up with ropes. Had it entered his mind that the trunk contained

the money he was after, the battle would have been a short one. But he

knew nothing, positively nothing, which would lead him to suppose that

this was the case; so he had nothing to do but to wait, and wait he did.

On Saturday, the thirtieth day of April, the steamer arrived at Mobile,

and the passengers speedily disembarked. At three in the afternoon a

steamer started up the Alabama river, for Montgomery, and on this boat

Maroney took passage. Among the passengers going to Montgomery were a

number of his friends. There were many ladies among them, and he was

well received by all of them. He took no notice of his baggage, and his

trunks lay carelessly amidst a pile of luggage.

On board all was life and hilarity. Fun and frolic were the order of the

day. There were several horse fanciers on board, with whom he was

acquainted, and he got into a conversation with them, his spirits rising

higher and higher still.

When the boat touched at Montgomery he sprang ashore, where he was

welcomed by a crowd of his friends, and gave orders to Porter to have

his trunks taken up to the hotel. Porter, during his absence, had been

appointed clerk of the Exchange. He was on the wharf when Maroney

arrived, and shook hands with him. He told him he was now at the

Exchange; that it was the best house in town, and that Mr. Floyd would

be glad to welcome him as a guest. Maroney was pleased to hear this, and

told Porter that when his trunks came up to the house he would give him

some splendid cigars to try--some that he had bought on his trip. Porter

saw Roch, but dared not speak to him.

Roch seeing Maroney placed under the espionage of Porter, proceeded to

his Dutch boarding-house and gave himself a thorough cleansing.

Porter had a carriage at the wharf, which Maroney and he entered, and

drove up to Patterson's. They took a few drinks and then went over to

the Exchange, where they arrived just as Maroney's trunks came up. He

directed Porter to send the large trunk to his room, but to place the

old one in the baggage room, and to mark it plainly with his name, so

that no one would take it by mistake.

In the evening Maroney and Porter stepped over to Patterson's and there

met Charlie May, a wealthy harness-maker and a very prominent man. He

was one of Maroney's best friends and was so convinced of his innocence

of the crime he was charged with committing that he had gone on his

bail-bond. They went into a private room and had a social chat,

interspersed with an occasional drink. Several of Maroney's friends came

in and joined the party.

Maroney spoke of the splendid cigars he had bought on his journey, and

told the assembled company that when he opened his trunk he would give

them a chance to prove their quality. All went pleasantly with him, and

Porter was unable to notice any change, with the exception that he was

perhaps a little livelier than before.

He recounted the incidents of his journey, the routes he had taken, the

places where he had stopped, etc., and Porter found it varied little

from the truth. He alluded to the girls he had visited in Chattanooga,

said the stock was splendid, described the situation of the house and

advised them to pay it a visit if they ever went to the town. He spoke

of the fine horses he had seen at Cook's livery stable and of Cook's

being a fine fellow. He also spoke of inspecting the live stock in the

stables at Nashville and at the pleasant dwelling at Natchez, on the

hill, and wound up by declaring he had had a splendid time, and ordering

in Champagne for all the party.

In the morning, after breakfast, he told Porter to have the old trunk

sent up to his room and he would get the cigars he had spoken about.

Porter ordered the colored boy to bring the trunk up, and at Maroney's

request went to the room with him to assist in the opening. When the

trunk was brought up the negro and Porter took off the ropes and Maroney

carelessly opened it. There were four boxes of cigars in it. Maroney

opened one of them, took a handful of cigars from it, gave a number of

them to Porter to try, and when Porter had lit one, said:

"What do you think of that? don't you call that a splendid cigar?"

Porter admitted it was an unusually fine-flavored weed. Maroney then put

some, from each of the boxes, into his pockets, and said he was going to

drive out with "Yankee Mary."

Porter having no good excuse for remaining longer, returned to the

office, whence he was soon recalled by Maroney, who requested him to

have the trunk roped up and placed in the garret, where unclaimed

baggage was usually stored. While this was being done, Porter observed

the four cigar boxes lying carelessly on the bureau. Shortly after he

saw Maroney and Charlie May pass rapidly up the street behind "Yankee

Mary."

_CHAPTER X._

We will now return to the North, where we left Mrs. Maroney enjoying

herself as the guest of Mr. Moore. Green shadowed her closely, and she

did not make a move that was not reported to me. I thought it best to

see Mrs. Maroney myself while she was North, and proceeded to

Philadelphia for that purpose, bringing George H. Bangs, my General

Superintendent, with me. I had concluded to give Mr. Bangs full charge

of all the operatives employed in the case. He was to keep fully

informed of all the movements of Maroney and his wife, receive daily

reports from all the operatives, then daily report to me, and I would

direct him how to proceed, and he would transmit the orders to the

operatives. I had many other cases under way, and could not devote all

my time to this one. Bangs was to remain in Philadelphia, where all the

operatives would send their reports. He was a young man of great

abilities; he had been promoted from the ranks, and I had full

confidence in his capacity. He was cautious--sometimes a little too much

so, or more so than I would be, but still with firmness enough to carry

him through all emergencies.

The reader knows that I was determined to win. The Adams Express Company

had furnished me with all the backing I wanted, and under such favorable

auspices, I said, "Win, I must! Win, I shall!" I did not doubt that

Maroney was the thief. The question now was How can I find the money?

Philadelphia, at that time, was where the main offices of the Adams

Express were located, and the Vice-President was in charge. I held a

consultation with him, and he advised us to remain in Philadelphia and

see Mrs. Maroney; and while the interview was progressing, a dispatch

came to me, from Green, stating that Mrs. Maroney had left New York for

that place. We were all anxious to see her, but I concluded to send

Bangs alone to the station, as different persons had seen us with the

Vice-President, and it might excite comment if we all went.

The train arrived in Camden, opposite to Philadelphia, at eight o'clock

in the evening, and Bangs, who was waiting, had Green point Mrs. Maroney

out to him. He got a good look at her as Flora and she stepped into a

carriage. She was a medium sized, rather slender brunette, with black

flashing eyes, black hair, thin lips, and a rather voluptuously formed

bust.

Bangs and Green followed her to the Washington House, on Chestnut

street, above Eighth, where she and Flora went into the reception room.

She sent for the landlord, who assigned them a suite of rooms, and they

retired.

It will be remembered that Maroney was observed to post a letter while

in Memphis. Roch managed to see the address as it lay on the rack in the

hotel, and found it directed to Mrs. M. Cox, Jenkintown, Montgomery

County, Penn. When I arrived in Philadelphia, I concluded it would be a

good plan to find out who Mrs. M. Cox was, and accordingly detailed Mr.

Fox to procure the information. "His orders were: Go slow; be careful;

be sure not to excite any suspicion." Mr. Fox had been a watch and clock

maker, and was a thorough hand at his trade. I provided him with a

carpet-sack and the necessary tools, and also a few silver watches, of

no great value, which I purchased at a pawn broker's. Thus equipped as

an itinerant clock repairer, and having a few watches to "dicker" with,

he started on foot for Jenkintown, a small place twelve miles from

Philadelphia. He sauntered slowly along with his satchel over his

shoulder, going into a farmhouse occasionally, and finally reached

Jenkintown. Here he passed from house to house, enquiring if they had

any clocks that needed repairing. As he was a good hand, and his charges

most reasonable, only twenty-five or fifty cents for each clock, he soon

had doctored several. He was of a talkative nature, and drew from the

old gossips whom he encountered on his rounds, full descriptions of the

members of different families who lived in or around Jenkintown; and

there is no doubt but that he was much better posted as to their

business and weaknesses than they were themselves.

Toward evening, having done a good day's work, he went to the tavern,

kept by a man named Stemples, and made arrangements to stop with him

while in town. He found that a man named Cox lived in Jenkintown, and

that he was a carpenter by trade. During the evening he was much

surprised to meet Cox at the tavern. Fox was a genial fellow, and, after

a paying day's work always made himself agreeable to those whom he met

at the tavern where he put up. He had the knack of getting easily

acquainted, and soon was on the best of terms with Cox and his friends.

He did not force the acquaintance, but during the evening paid much more

attention to Cox's friends than to Cox.

Fox went through about the same routine the next day, and toward

evening, finding that he had made a dollar and a half, he packed up his

tools and went up to the tavern. Here he found Cox and his friends

again. He told them how successful he had been, and received their

hearty congratulations--they feeling that there was no doubt but that

they would be gainers by his good fortune. Cox and his friends joined in

having a good time at the tinker's expense, and pronounced him the

"prince of good fellows;" though I much fear, had Fox suddenly

importuned them for a small loan, they would have changed their tune;

but as he did not, "all went merry as a marriage bell."

[Illustration: _Cox and his friends joined in having a good time at the

tinker's expense, and pronounced him "the prince of good

fellows."_--Page 86.]

Cox had two bosom friends--Horton and Barclay. They were held together

by ties stronger than those which bind kindred--they were fellow-topers,

and could drink about equally deep. They generally concluded an

evening's entertainment in somewhat the following manner: