Maroney would remark, "But no one heard?"

"Hush," White would whisper, "how many times must I tell you that walls

may have ears?"

In time he had Maroney afraid almost of his own shadow.

When White wanted to tell Shanks any thing, he would take him by the arm

and draw him to one side; his lips would be seen to move, but not a word

could be heard.

One morning Maroney said, "White, I would like to have a boy like yours

to attend to my business; he is a good boy, never talks loud, and I

could make him useful in many ways."

"Yes," replied White, dryly, "Shanks is a good boy, and minds what I

say. Suppose they should bring him on the stand to prove I said a

certain thing, Shanks would be a bad witness, because he never hears any

thing I don't want him to."

"I see he is shrewd, and I like him for that," said Maroney.

The days passed slowly away, White always attending to his own business,

which seemed very important. One day Maroney said to White, "I'm tired,

let's take a turn in the hall?" They made several trips, conversing on

general topics, when Maroney lowered his voice and said:

"White, couldn't you and I get out of this jail?"

"I have not thought of it, have you?"

"Yes," answered Maroney, eagerly; "all we need is two keys. If we were

to get an impression of the lock Shanks could have them made, couldn't

he?"

"Yes," replied White, "you can get almost any thing made in New York if

you have the money with which to pay for it. But if we made the attempt

and failed, what would be the consequences? We should be put down and

not allowed out of our cells, and I should be debarred from seeing

Shanks; so suppose we think it over, and watch the habits of the

jailors."

Every day Maroney broached the subject, but White always had some

objections to offer, and Maroney finally abandoned the project in

disgust. There is no doubt but that Eldridge street jail at the time

could have been easily opened.

Little by little Maroney sought to place more confidence in White, but

found his advances always repelled. White would say, "Maroney, let every

man keep his own secrets, I have all I can do to attend to my own

affairs. My lawyer has been to see me and my prospects, as he presents

them, are not very flattering. Shanks says they are likely to get the

better of me if I am not careful. I feel so irritable that I can

scarcely bear with any one." Maroney was more than ever desirous of

talking with him, but White said: "I don't want to talk; let every man

paddle his own canoe. If I were out of trouble, it would be a different

thing, but my lawyer at present gives me a black lookout."

Shanks came in and White drew him to one side. They had a long talk and

then White paced restlessly up and down the hall.

"What's the matter, White? have you bad news?" enquired Maroney.

"Yes, I am deeply in the mire, but let me alone and I'll wriggle myself

out."

_CHAPTER XXI._

I now determined to strike a blow at Maroney. Some idea of its power may

be gained by imagining how a prisoner would feel upon receiving the news

that, while he is languishing in prison, his faithless wife is receiving

the unlawful attentions of a young gallant, and that everything

indicates that they are about to leave for parts unknown, intending to

take all his money and leave him in the lurch. This was exactly the rod

I had in pickle for Maroney. I applied it through the following letter:

"Nathan Maroney, Eldridge Street Jail, New York:

"Ha! ha! ha! * * * * Your wife and the fellow with the long

mustache and whiskers are having a glorious time, driving around in

his buggy.

"You have heard of Sanford? He loves you well. He is the one who

moves the automaton with the whiskers and long mustache, and gives

_your wife_ a _lover_ in Jenkintown.

"You should _feel happy_, and so do I. The garden at night; honeyed

words; the parting kiss! She loves him well! I _know you are

happy_!

"Good-bye! * * * * REVENGE!"

Having written the document, I had it mailed from Jenkintown, through

the assistance of friend Rivers.

At Jenkintown all was going smoothly. De Forest was more loving than

ever, and Madam Imbert found it almost impossible to have a private

conversation with Mrs. Maroney, as she seemed always with him. When De

Forest came to Philadelphia I had it suggested to him that it would be

advisable to get Mrs. Maroney to walk or drive out with him in the

evening. He immediately acted on the suggestion, and before long could

be found almost every evening with her.

Mrs. Maroney did not again allude to her valuables, and evidently felt

perfectly easy in regard to them, considering that she had them safely

secreted. One day, while Mrs. Maroney was in the cellar, Madam Imbert

called. Mrs. Cox met her and said:

"Sister is in the cellar; I will call her up."

"Never mind," remarked the Madam, "I'll just run down to her," and

stepped towards the cellar door.

Mrs. Cox quickly interposed and said:

"Oh! no; I will call her!"

This little incident showed Madam Imbert that something was going on

which they did not want her to know.

Mrs. Maroney soon came up, said she was delighted to see her, and did

not look at all confused.

Rivers, Cox, Horton and Barclay had formed themselves into a quartette

club and were nearly always together.

Rivers's arm had not healed as yet, and he still wore it in a sling. Cox

and he were on the best of terms, and the Jenkintowners regarded him, as

well as the other detectives, as permanent residents.

De Forest was happy beyond expression, and Mrs. Maroney seemed equally

so. She wrote letters daily to her husband and often spoke of Madam

Imbert and how deeply she felt for her, bowed down with care and alone

in the world. She very seldom alluded to De Forest and never spoke of

his being her constant companion.

While all was passing so pleasantly in Jenkintown, a terrible scene was

being enacted in Eldridge street jail. I had not posted White as to my

intention of sending the anonymous letter to Maroney, as I wished to

find what effect Maroney's conduct would have on him. The day after

Rivers had posted the letter, Shanks brought it to Maroney when he came

with the morning's mail. Besides my letter there was also one from Mrs.

Maroney. Maroney looked at the letters and opened the one from his wife

first. He read it, a pleased smile passing over his face, and then laid

it down and picked up my letter. He scanned the envelope carefully and

then broke the seal. White was watching him and wondered why he examined

the letter so closely. As he read, White was astonished to see a look of

deep anguish settle on his face. He seemed to be sinking from some

terrible blow. He recovered himself, read the letter over and over

again, then crushed it in his hand and threw it on the floor.

He sprang to his feet and walked rapidly up and down the hall; but

returned and picked up the letter before the wily White could manage to

secure it. White wondered what it was that troubled Maroney. He

whispered to Shanks:

"What the d----l is the matter with Maroney? He has received bad news. I

should like, in some way, to find out what it is. The old man will be

wondering what is in that note, and when I report, will blame me for

not finding out."

Maroney appeared almost crazed. He forced the letter into his pocket and

went into his cell without a word; but his face was a terrible index of

what was passing in his mind.

After a little, White and Shanks walked by his cell and saw him lying on

the bed, with his face hidden in the clothes. He did not come out for

over an hour; but when he did, he _seemed_ perfectly calm. He was very

pale, and it was astonishing to see the change wrought in him in so

short a time.

White met him as he came out, but did not appear to notice any

difference in him.

"Here, Maroney, have a cigar; they are a new brand. Shanks is a superior

judge of cigars. I think these are the best I have yet had, and I

believe I will get a box; I can get them for eleven dollars, and they

are as good as those they retail at twenty cents a piece."

Maroney held out his hand mechanically and took one. He put it into his

mouth, and without lighting it, commenced to chew it.

White, in one of his reports to me, says: "A man often shows his

desperation by his desire to get more nicotine than usual." Maroney did

not converse with White, and only said he wanted to write. He sat down

and wrote a note, but immediately tore it up. He wrote and tore up

several in this way, but finally wrote one to suit him. White quietly

told Shanks that when Maroney gave him the letter he was writing, he

must be sure and see its contents. Of course Shanks always obeyed

orders, and never neglected anything his uncle told him to do, even if

it was to forget something that had happened. In this way he was

extremely useful. It was getting late, and the jailer had told him two

or three times that he must go, but he did not take his departure until

Maroney had sealed the letter and handed it to him.

Maroney was in a terrible condition, and White found that it would be

impossible to get anything out of him that night, as the whole affair

was too fresh in his mind; so he got some brandy he had in his cell, and

asked him to take a drink. Maroney eagerly swallowed a brimming

glassfull, and took four or five drinks in rapid succession. He seemed

to suffer terrible anguish, and his whole frame trembled like a leaf. In

a few minutes he retired to his cell, evidently determined to seek

oblivion in sleep.

We will now follow Shanks to his hotel, where he is engaged in opening

Maroney's letter. Although the letter was very securely sealed, he

accomplished the task without much difficulty, and read as follows:

"MADAM: I have received a strange letter. What does it mean? Are you

playing false to me? Who is this man you have with you? where does

he come from? Are you such a fool as not to know he is a tool of the

Adams, and that you are acting with him? I cannot be with you. If I

had my liberty I would hurry to your side, snatch you from this

villain, and plunge my knife so deep into him that he would never

know he had received a blow!!! Why are you so foolish? Do you love

me? You have often said you did. You know I have done all in my

power to make you happy, and have placed entire confidence in you.

Why have you never told me about this man? Listen to me, and love me

as before, and all will go well. Tell me all, 'and tell me it is not

so bad as it is told to me!' Spurn this scoundrel, and have

confidence in me forever!!!"

NAT.

Shanks hurriedly copied this letter, and mailed it after making another

copy, which he forwarded to me at the same time. In the morning he gave

White a copy of the letter, which revealed to him the cause of Maroney's

anguish.

Maroney came to White in the morning, and found him moody, and not

inclined to talk. Still he clung to him as his only hope. It was a

strange fascination which White had acquired over Maroney. Maroney

appeared to feel better, although he was still very pale, and seemed to

be comforted by White's presence, although he did not say a word about

his trouble.

We will now make a trip which Maroney would like to make, and return to

Jenkintown.

Maroney's letter arrived by the five P. M. mail, at Jenkintown, the day

following the one on which Shanks mailed it. In the morning Mrs. Maroney

had spent some time with Madam Imbert, and then had gone for a drive

with De Forest. They went to Manayunk, had a fish dinner washed down

with a bottle of champagne, and drove back as happy and free from care

as two children. Mrs. Maroney left the buggy at Cox's at half-past four,

and found Madam Imbert waiting for her. The Madam noticed that she was a

little exhilarated. After they had conversed for some time she asked

Mrs. Maroney out for a walk, and they strolled leisurely down to the

station. The train from Philadelphia had just passed through, and Mrs.

Maroney said: "Let us walk up to Stemples's and see if any letters have

come for us."

When they reached Stemples's, Mrs. Maroney went in and received a

letter. Madam Imbert was not so fortunate. "Oh!" laughed Mrs. Maroney,

"I have seen the time, when I was single, that I would receive half a

dozen letters a day; but this is more valuable than them all, as it is

from my husband. Heigh ho! I wonder what my darling Nat. has to say." At

the same time she broke the seal, and then proceeded to read the letter.

Madam Imbert walked a little way behind her, as was her habit. She was a

very tall, commanding woman, and made this her habit so that she could

glance at anything that Mrs. Maroney might read as they walked along. It

was a part of her business, and so she was not to be blamed for it. Mrs.

Maroney flushed at the first word she read, but as she went on her color

heightened, until she was red as a coal of fire. "Why," she muttered,

"Nat., you're a d----d fool!" When angered she always used language she

had acquired in her former life.

Madam Imbert heard her, and was anxious to see the contents of the

letter, but could only catch a word here and there as she looked over

Mrs. Maroney's shoulder.

Mrs. Maroney glanced over the letter hurriedly, and then read it again.

She muttered to herself, and the Madam hoped she was going to tell her

what it was that caused her hard words; but she did not, and soon folded

the letter up and put it away. As they neared Cox's she said: "Please

excuse me; I feel unwell, and fear I have been too much in the sun

to-day."

At this moment De Forest walked out of Josh.'s. "Mrs. Maroney," said

he, "will you come to the garden this evening?"

Madam Imbert turned to leave.

Mrs. Maroney looked him full in the face with flashing eyes, clenched

her little hand, and in a voice hoarse from passion, exclaimed: "What do

you want here, you scoundrel?"

[Illustration: "_Mrs. Maroney looked him full in the face with flashing

eyes, clenched her little hand, and in a voice hoarse from passion,

exclaimed: 'What do you want here, you scoundrel?'_"--Page 190.]

If a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet, De Forest could not have been

more astonished; he was struck speechless; his powers of articulation

were gone. She said not one word more, but stalked into the house and

closed the door with a bang that made him jump.

Madam Imbert wended her way to the tavern, but De Forest stood for fully

two minutes, seemingly deprived of the power of motion. He then darted

eagerly toward the door, determined to have an explanation, but was met

by Josh., who said: "You have done something that has raised the d----l

in Mrs. Maroney, and she will play the deuce with you if you don't clear

out. If you try to speak to her, she will pistol you, sure!"

"But what have I done?" asked De Forest. "It is only an hour since I

left her, and we were then on the best of terms. I have _always_ treated

her well!"

"Come, come!" said Josh., "don't stand talking here. People will see we

are having a fuss." And he took De Forest by the arm and led him toward

Stemples's.

Madam Imbert had met Rivers on her way, and sent him to find out how

affairs were progressing. He arrived at this moment. "Hello," said he to

Josh., "I was just coming to see you."

"Yes! You have come at the wrong time. Mrs. Maroney is as mad as

blazes, and would have shot De Forest if it had not been for me. I can't

tell what for, but, by the Eternal, she would have done it!"

De Forest was all in a maze. He could not imagine what he had done to

cause the woman he loved to become so excited as to desire to kill him.

They all three went to the hotel, and De Forest, although generally not

a drinking man, called them all up and treated. The fun of the whole

thing was that De Forest had not the slightest idea what it was that had

caused the trouble. Only an hour before she was by his side in the

buggy, and they were so happy and so loving! She had been cooing like a

turtle dove, and now, "Oh, wondrous change," she wished to shoot him. He

could not remember having uttered a single word that would wound the

most sensitive nature.

After tea, Madam Imbert walked down to Cox's, first seeing Rivers and

directing him to keep a close guard on the house that night, and

especially to watch the cellar-window, so as to know if anything took

place in the cellar. On arriving at Cox's she was shown into Mrs.

Maroney's room. Mrs. Maroney was in bed, but did not have her clothes

off. She had not been crying, but fairly quivered with suppressed

excitement. She rose and closed the door, and then burst out with, "Why,

Madam Imbert, have you ever heard of so foolish a man as my husband? Who

knows where De Forest comes from? Do you?"

"No," answered the Madam; "he was here when I came. Don't you know?"

"No. All I know is that I became acquainted with him here, when I first

came, and I found him so serviceable that I kept up the acquaintance;

But," she broke out in a wild, excited manner, "D--n him! I'll put a

ball through him if he dares to injure me."

"Keep cool, keep cool! What does it matter? You are excited; it is a bad

time to talk," urged Madam Imbert.

"But I must talk: I shall suffocate if I don't. Madam Imbert, I must

tell you all."

"No! You must not talk now. Calm yourself! You must keep cool! Think of

your poor husband languishing in prison, and remember that any false

move of yours may prove to his disadvantage."

"But what makes him charge me with receiving improper attentions from De

Forest? I know I have sometimes been foolish with him, but he is soft

and I have moulded him to my purpose. He has been my errand-boy, nothing

more; and now my husband thinks me untrue to him, when I would gladly

die for him, if it would help him. It is too hard to bear, too hard!!"

Madam Imbert had had the forethought to bring a bottle of brandy with

her, so she advised: "Don't make things worse than they are; you had

better say no more until morning. Here, have a little brandy; I saw you

were nervous, and so brought a bottle with me; take some, and then go to

bed. After a good sound sleep you will be able to see your way much

clearer than now."

"Oh, thank you," said Mrs. Maroney, as she eagerly seized the glass and

gulped down a large quantity.

Madam Imbert started to leave.

"Please don't go yet; I must tell you all," pleaded Mrs. Maroney.

"Wait till to-morrow," said Madam Imbert, "it is a bad time to talk."

"Madam Imbert, you are now my only friend, and I would like to have your

opinion as to who it is that is writing these letters about me to my

husband. If I knew the dirty dog, I would put a ball through him. I am

not fairly treated. I am Maroney's wife, and he should not believe such

slanders against me. As long as I live I will do all I can for him."

"Mrs. Maroney," said Madam Imbert, getting up, "I must not listen to

you; I will go."

"Please don't! Who can it be that is writing these reports from

Jenkintown?" again enquired Mrs. Maroney.

"That is a point upon which it is hard for me to enlighten you," replied

the Madam; "it might be Barclay or some of Josh.'s friends. Josh. is a

good clever fellow, for a brother-in-law, but I would not trust him too

much; he is a little inclined to talk, and Barclay may have drawn

something from him and written to your husband; I know De Forest don't

like him."

"I will see Josh. at once, and find out about this Barclay," said Mrs.

Maroney.

"You had better wait till morning," said Madam Imbert, as she rose to

leave the room; "I must go to bed, and you had better follow my

example."

Mrs. Maroney began to show the effects of the brandy she had been

drinking, but she took Madam Imbert's arm and went to the door with her.

It was now ten o'clock, but she requested the Madam to take a turn in

the garden with her. They had hardly taken two steps before Mrs.

Maroney stumbled over a man concealed at the side of the house. It was

Rivers, but he was up and off before the frightened ladies had a chance

to see him. Madam Imbert screamed lustily, although she well knew who it

was.

"D----n him," said Mrs. Maroney, "that's that De Forest; I will kill

him, sure! What was he doing here?"

Madam Imbert remarked that it was either he or Barclay.

"I know what he is looking after," said Mrs. Maroney; "I see through the

whole thing! De Forest is a tool of the Vice-President; he thinks he has

got my secrets, but I'll be after him yet." Her voice was hoarse and

dry, and plainly showed the effects of the brandy. Madam Imbert walked

out of the garden and went to the tavern, while Mrs. Maroney went into

the house.

Rivers, when he was disturbed in his watching of the cellar window,

rushed straight to Stemples's, where he found Barclay, Horton and Cox.

"How do you do, boys?" said he, "come and have a drink; I have just come

in from seeing my girl; she is a good one, and I think will make me

happy; had a long walk, though; over two miles, and I think I deserve a

glass."

Josh. was telling about Mrs. Maroney's quarrel. Rivers heard him

patiently through, and they had two or three drinks, when Mrs. Cox

stalked into the room. All the women in Jenkintown seemed on the

rampage, at least all those we are dealing with.

"Josh., you lazy, good for nothing fellow, I have been looking all over

the village for you!"

"Why, you ought to know you could find me here," said Josh.

"Come home at once; sister wants you to watch the house to-night! some

one has been lurking around there, and she wants you to find out who it

is."

"Well," said Josh., carelessly, "I'll come."

Rivers now spoke up: "I am not very busy just now, and I will watch with

you."

"Will you?" said Mrs. Cox, in a pleased tone; "would be much obliged to

you if you would; Josh. has been drinking so much that I can't place

much reliance on him."

"Certainly," said Rivers, and the trio started for the scene of action.

Mrs. Maroney was in bed when they arrived, but she hastily rose and came

to the door in her night dress.

"Now, Josh.," she commanded, "I want you to keep a close watch, and if

De Forest, or any one else comes by the cellar-window, just you think

they are coming to rob your house, and fire! Here is my revolver."

"I will take care of that," said Rivers, "I am going to stay up and

watch with Josh."

"Oh, thank you! Josh., you had better let Mr. Rivers have the revolver."

She went in, and Josh. turned the revolver over to Rivers. They then

secreted themselves where they could see any one coming into the yard.

In less than an hour Josh. was snoring. At three in the morning Rivers

roused him up, got him into the house, and then, thoroughly tired out,

started for home.

_CHAPTER XXII._

In the morning Jenkintown enjoyed the calm that always follows the

storm. Madam Imbert called on Mrs. Maroney, and found her suffering from

a severe headache. She said she feared she had taken too much champagne

the day before, and believed that De Forest had attempted to get her

drunk. She could not imagine why he watched the house. She was bound to

have nothing more to do with him, as she was certain he was a tool of

the Express Company. "And yet," she said, "I thought he was a man above

that sort of business! I thought he would disdain to sell himself for

such a purpose."

Madam Imbert advised her to be patient, and to be careful not to do De

Forest an injustice by judging him wrongfully. "You don't know," she

remarked, "but that he really loves you, and was only trying to see if

you were receiving other company." They conversed for some time on the

subject, and Madam Imbert finally found that Mrs. Maroney was very much

inclined to take her view of the subject. She said she really thought De

Forest loved her, and perhaps she had been too hasty with him. It was

Madam Imbert's best plan to take this course, as it would show what a

disinterested friend she was. She wanted to keep watch on Cox's house,

but in such a manner as not to excite suspicion.

Mrs. Maroney said she would write to Nat. and explain the matter, but

said she would like to find out who had written to her husband. Madam

Imbert and she cogitated over the subject for some time, but could not

decide upon any particular person. Finally Mrs. Maroney concluded she

would take a nap, as she thought she would feel much brighter

afterwards. She said she would write to her husband the first thing

after dinner, and asked the Madam to call a little later and take a walk

with her.

De Forest remained in the hotel all the morning. He did not call on Mrs.

Maroney, and vainly puzzled his brain to determine the cause of her

excitement. He came into the bar-room, where he found Rivers, as serene

as ever, and willing to console any one. In a few minutes Josh., Horton

and Barclay arrived. The _posse_ talked over the trouble of the

preceding night, and De Forest hoped that, as Josh. had come from the

scene of action, he would be able to enlighten him as to the cause of

Mrs. Maroney's strange conduct. But Cox was as much at a loss to account

for her passion as he. Said he: "All I know is that she is a regular

tartar, and no mistake! Whew! Didn't she rave though?"

The Vice-President and I received the reports in Philadelphia, and had a

quiet laugh over them. All was working to suit us.

In the afternoon Madam Imbert walked out with Mrs. Maroney, who had just

finished her letter to her husband. As they walked along she said, "I

told my husband that I knew nothing about the man with the long mustache

further than that he was living in Jenkintown before I left the South;

that when I first arrived here he did several kind things for me, and

had driven me into Philadelphia a few times when I could not get the

train, but that you, Madam Imbert, had always accompanied me. I spoke of

you as a perfect lady, and as being a true friend of mine, and that you

often cautioned me against talking too much. I said that if it was De

Forest he alluded to, I was perfectly safe in his company. I asked him

if he thought it likely that I, whose interests were identical with his,

would be likely to prove untrue to him, and told him he might rest

perfectly assured that I would do nothing without his knowledge and

consent."

They walked to Stemples's and posted the letter. On the way they met De

Forest, but Mrs. Maroney took no notice of him. After mailing the

letter, they strolled through the pleasure grounds for some time. At

last they separated, each taking their respective way home.

At the tavern Madam Imbert was met by De Forest, who requested a private

interview. She readily consented, and, after tea, met him in the

sitting-room. De Forest related his sorrowful story, and asked her if

she knew what had caused Mrs. Maroney to treat him so harshly.

She said, "these things will happen once in a while; it is part of a

woman's nature to take sudden and unaccountable freaks; but all will be

right by-and-by." She quoted Scott's beautiful lines:

"O Woman! in our hours of ease

Uncertain, coy and hard to please,

And variable as the shade

By the light quivering aspen made:

When pain and anguish wring the brow,

A ministering Angel thou--"

De Forest fervently hoped that, as she had brought "pain and anguish"

to his brow, she would now become his "ministering angel," and went off

somewhat comforted. Madam Imbert saw Mrs. Maroney in the evening and

told her of the interview with De Forest. This made her feel quite

happy, and she even remarked: "I think I have been too hard on the poor

fellow."

White and Maroney were together when Mrs. Maroney's letter arrived.

Maroney read it carefully through and then went to his cell. In the

afternoon, White observed him writing and directed Shanks to open the

letter when he received it. Shanks did so and found it was to his wife.

He wrote that he was happy to hear that she was still true to him, and

to find that he had been deceived. He felt assured that the blow must

have been aimed by some of his enemies. If he were at liberty he would

find the man, but as he was not he would have to wait. He directed her

to endeavor to find out who had sent the letter. As she assured him she

would do nothing without his approval, he was contented.

When I received a copy of his letter, I was convinced that he was trying

to make the best of a bad bargain. He could not be spared from Eldridge

street jail just at that time and had to trust his wife whether he would

or not.

White and he lived quietly together. He told White that he was confined

at the instigation of the Adams Express, who accused him of stealing

fifty thousand dollars from them.

"But, of course," said he, "I am innocent!"

Still, as I have before mentioned, he was anxious to break jail--an

unusual inclination for an innocent man.

About this time he happened to read in the papers an account of a

robbery in Tennessee, in which a description of the stolen money and

bills was given. As he and White were walking in the hall, he said to

White:

"White, I wonder if it would not be a good move to try some game in my

case? Of course, I am innocent! I think the messenger, Chase, the guilty

party, and I want to arrange some plan to throw suspicion on him or some

one else; but (in an amusing tone) there is no one else. Chase received

the money from me and put it into the pouch! Still, I can't prove this,

as there were no witnesses. It will be my oath against his, and as the

company have taken his part, he will have the best of it. It is a

strange affair. Chase was at the counter checking off the packages as I

put them in the pouch. He now says that he did not see all the packages,

as they went in so quickly that he had all he could do to check them

off. Strange, indeed! If I were checking off packages of such large

amounts I think I should be likely to look at them, don't you? I wish in

some way to prove Chase dishonest. At present it is even between us, but

the company support him and leave me in the lurch."

"Yes," said White, "it is just about as you say, an even thing between

you; but the company have undoubtedly sided with Chase because you have

the most money, and they think they can recover the amount from you or

from your friends! But I don't see how you can clear yourself. If Chase

only swears he did not receive the money, it will go hard with you."

White thought that now Maroney would propose to him to get Shanks to

have some duplicate keys of the company's pouch made; but apparently he

did not yet feel fully certain that he could trust White. He broached

the subject several times, but finally dropped it altogether.

A few days after, Maroney had another talk with White and treated him

with much more confidence than before. White said little, and was a good

man to talk to. Maroney made no admissions, but all his expressions and

manners showed guilt. White at least did not accept them as showing his

innocence. He always pointed to Chase as the guilty party. Maroney

frequently brought up his troubles as a topic of conversation with

White; but White was professedly so employed with his own business that

he said but little. All that Maroney said to him seemed to go in at one

ear and out at the other. When he made a remark it was a casual one and

had no bearing on the subject. This caused Maroney to talk still more,

devising plans for throwing suspicion on Chase. White casually said:

"What sort of a man is Chase? A smart, shrewd fellow who would pick up a

money package if he saw it lying handy, and dispose of it?"

"No," replied Maroney, slowly weighing every word. "I don't think he

would. He is a pretty fair man; but the company have no right to make

him a witness against me!"

"Who are his friends?" enquired White.

"His father lives in Georgia; he is a whole-souled old planter; has a

good many slaves; but his property is much encumbered. Chase is a good

fellow after all!"

"By-the-by," asked White, "does he ever go to see the fancy girls?"

"Yes, he does, occasionally," answered Maroney.

"Would it not be a good plan to take four or five thousand dollars and

get the girls to stuff it into his pants pocket; then get him drunk, and

as he started away have some detective arrest him?"

"Yes," answered Maroney, "it might be done, and Gus McGibony is the man

to do it. He is a good friend of mine. If I were only out, I might do

something. White, your idea is a good one, you are a splendid contriver;

but I must find some one to carry out the plan. I have friends in

Montgomery, and I think Charlie May would help me. No, he is too much

under the influence of his wife! Patterson would help me some; but I

think Porter is the best man for me!"

"Porter? who is he?"

"He is the clerk of the Exchange Hotel," said Maroney.

"He would be a good man for you if you can trust him."

"I know I can do that! he would do anything in the world for me."

"He is just the man to be familiar with the girls. Clerks at hotels

always are. Girls must often stop at the hotel, and he might arrange to

get Chase into a room with one of them, and then the rest could be

easily accomplished. Does Chase board at the Exchange?"

"Yes," answered Maroney. "White, you're a genius! I have a good mind to

write to Porter at once and lay your plan before him."

White looked at him in astonishment. "Are you crazy?" said he; "would

you trust such matters on paper? I _never_ do."

"You are right again," exclaimed Maroney.

They talked the affair over for several days, the trouble being to get a

proper person to act as a go-between to arrange matters with Porter.

Maroney asked White why he could not trust Shanks.

"You could; but the trouble is he has never been in the South."

"That would make but little difference."

"No, now I think of it, I don't know as it would. He would only have to

carry the messages, and Shanks always obeys orders."

"Well, I will think it over," remarked Maroney; and the matter dropped,

he evidently fearing that Shanks would get the money and clear out.

One day he said: "White, I wonder if the Express Company would not

settle the matter with me? I am not guilty of the theft, but things look

blue for me. I have some money, and I think I will make a proposition to

them."

"You could not do a more foolish thing; they would at once conclude that

you were certainly guilty, and make you suffer for it," argued White.

White kept me informed of all that went on, and I had instructed him

that we would make no compromise. The company did not care so much for

the money, as of making an example of the guilty party. That would show

the other employés what would be their fate if they were caught in

similar peculations.

About this time Maroney's brother came to New York, from Danielsville.

He was a man of good standing, well-meaning, and honest in his

intentions. Maroney had looked anxiously for his coming, as he supposed

his brother would be able to effect his release on bail. He knew that

his brother alone could not make the bail-bond good, as one hundred

thousand dollars is a large sum to be raised, but supposed that by his

influence he might get others to sign with him.

I placed "shadows" on his brother's track, and they, with White on the

inside, and Shanks on the outside, kept me fully informed of what he was

intending to do. He appeared to feel very bad at finding his brother in

jail, and evinced a desire to do all he could for him. He had a long

interview with Maroney and his lawyer, but everything appeared against

him. Maroney's brother had no property in New York, and the only way he

could raise the necessary bail was by giving a mortgage on his property

as security to some man in New York, and have him go on the bond.

The matter was well canvassed between them, but finally, like all the

other plans devised to effect his release, was abandoned as

impracticable. The brother did not like to procure bail in this way, for

if he did, and Maroney should run away, the Adams Express would

prosecute the bondsmen, who in turn would foreclose the mortgage, and in

all likelihood become the owners of his property. He would do a great

deal for his brother, but felt that this was asking too much. His duty

to his family would not permit him to run so great a risk, and he

therefore returned home without accomplishing the object of his visit.

So far, all my schemes had proved successful.

White had weakened Maroney's confidence in his friends. I wanted him to

see and feel that all those whom he considered his friends before the

jail door closed upon him, were so no longer. One by one he saw them

abandon him to his fate, till he had no one left on whom to rely, but

White. His brother had come and gone without accomplishing anything. He

feared that even his wife was untrue to him, and that she, instead of

proving a safe guardian for his property, might at any moment leave with

De Forest and the money. His wife had often spoken of a Madam Imbert,

but he had never seen her, and knew not whether she was to be trusted.

From his wife's correspondence, he was disposed to think favorably of

her, and several times was on the point of sending word to his wife to

pay him a visit and bring Madam Imbert with her. But what good would it

do? After all, it was better to trust White.

One day White turned to Maroney, after writing several letters and

holding a long interview with Shanks, and said: "Maroney, I think I can

procure bail. My lawyers have been working hard in my behalf, and one of

them went to St. Louis to see my prosecutors. He found they would do

nothing unless they got all their money back. Of course I could not give

them that," said he with a wink, "as I haven't it; and so my lawyer was

unable to do anything for me. Shanks, however, has just been in, and he

has not been idle during the five days he has been absent. He has made

arrangements with a party to go my bail, provided I will advance a

considerable sum as security. Nothing is needed now but security, and I

think I can manage it. I can give them some money, and they will then

manage to get me out on straw bail. I can then loaf around town,

enjoying myself, and if I cannot compromise the matter, or if I think

that the trial will go against me, I can run away. In this way I shall

lose my security, and my bondsmen will have to fight the bond; but

still," said he, with a chuckle, the keen Yankee showing out, "but still

I shall not do so badly, after all, as I shall have about twenty

thousand dollars left to begin business with in a new place."

Maroney was more than ever impressed with his ability, and began to

think that White was now his only true friend, and the best man to help

him out of his difficulty. He had now been in jail several months, and

it was time to get matters fixed up. Why could he not trust White to

help him? He was a good contriver, and apparently could be trusted.

Still it would not do to be too certain, so he would quietly feel his

way along. He gradually broached the subject to White by saying, "White,

I feel very bad at the idea of your leaving me; after you go, all my

friends will be away from me. I might rely on Porter's help, or perhaps

on Patterson's. McGibony is a good fellow, and would willingly help me,

but I can't trust him too far, as he could be easily pumped. Moreover,

the great trouble is, that they are all down South. I can not take my

wife from Jenkintown, and yet I feel as though the Adams Express were

watching her. What must I do? You are a keen fellow; can't you help me

when you get out? I have some money of my own, and I would gladly pay

you for your trouble."

"Well," said White, "I shall have all I can do to attend to my own

business for the first four or five days I am out, but after that I

might help you. I don't know as I shall be able to do you any good, but

if I make an effort, we must have a clear understanding that my

connection with the matter must never be known. If I wish to communicate

with you I will send Shanks, who will be at once admitted to see you as

an old friend. If I were you, I would not talk to any of your New York

friends about it. They don't seem to care much for you, and very seldom

come to see you. Your lawyer is not doing much for you, and it would be

just as well not to let him into the secret either. Above all, you must

not let your wife or Madam Imbert know any thing about it. I have had

much trouble once or twice through women, and have determined never

again to trust them. It is utterly impossible for a woman to keep a

secret. She may love you to distraction, but confide a secret to her and

she is never satisfied till she divulges it." Maroney eagerly listened

to all White had to say, and then replied: "White, depend upon it, you

are the right man for me! If you will only figure for me as well as you

have done for yourself, you will have me out of jail in a very short

time."

"What do you want me to undertake?"

"The first thing is to carry out the plan you proposed the other day--of

placing the money on Chase's person. I will make the blow more telling

by getting you to have a key made similar to the pouch-key, and putting

it into his pocket at the same time. I have a fine drawing of the key

and you can easily have it made. I know Chase is the guilty party, and

this move will exonerate me and bring the proper person to justice. I

am sorry for Chase, but he can't expect me to suffer for his crime. I

will furnish you the necessary money to put into his pocket, and give

you a letter to Gus. McGibony, who will arrest Chase at the proper

moment."

"That's easily arranged," said White, "and McGibony need not know any

thing about the dodge. I shall need him only to make the arrest at the

moment when the girl gives me the wink. The worst of the thing is, we

shall be compelled to have a woman in the case any way; but I am

acquainted with a splendid looking girl here, who may, perhaps, keep her

mouth shut. I will send her to Montgomery, get her into the Exchange

Hotel, and she will soon manage to draw Chase into her room. When he

goes in I will get McGibony and have him arrested and searched as soon

as he gets to his own room."

"Capital! capital!!" said Maroney, jumping up and walking across the

hall, rubbing his hands with glee. "White, if you succeed in this I will

pay you well for it."

"What kind of money was it the company lost?" asked White.

"Oh! of course I don't know; I never saw it!" quickly answered Maroney,

at the same time looking into White's face with an expression in his eye

which showed that he wished to read his inmost thoughts. White took no

notice of this look, but went on with apparent unconcern. "Well, one of

the first things we must do is to find out what kind of money was stolen

from the Express Company, procure bills of the same kind, and when they

are found on Chase, he is gone, and his conviction is certain."

"Yes! yes!" muttered Maroney, as the thought flashed through his mind,

"can he really suspect me of having stolen the money?" "Yes, it would be

a good plan. You might find out what banks the company received the

money from and get some of their bills! It is a good thing to look

after, any way."

Maroney was not fully prepared to trust White, although he would

eventually have to do it. If he had been scanned by a close observer,

there would have been discovered in his mind a doubt of White's fealty,

caused by the home-thrust he gave when he asked about the money.

_CHAPTER XXIII._

At Jenkintown all was well. Mrs. Maroney had made up with De Forest and

his present happiness was so great that he had entirely forgotten his

past sorrow. He was very fond of Flora and enjoyed walking with her,

especially when her mother was along. Madam Imbert sometimes drove into

Philadelphia with Mrs. Maroney to do shopping, and De Forest was always

their coachman. Mrs. Maroney was loyal to a promise she had made her

husband, and never went out driving with De Forest unaccompanied by

Madam Imbert.

De Forest had only one seat to his buggy, and it was rather irksome to

be conveying two ladies around all the time. He had but little room,

seated between them, and as the weather was warm, he was often very

uncomfortable. He was tall, and his knees were jammed closely against

the dash-board; but he bore all the inconvenience manfully.

It was always their custom to drive to Mitchell's when they went to the

city. The ladies would alight here, while De Forest would stable his

horses. At dinner time they would meet again and drive home. One day,

while in the city, Madam Imbert said to Mrs. Maroney:

"Wait here a few minutes for me, I want to get some money changed."

She left Mrs. Maroney at Mitchell's and walked to Third street. Here

she went into a bank and drew five hundred dollars I had left there for

her and came out. She then walked up Third street and went into the

office of Miller Bros., brokers, where she had the money changed into

Eastern funds.

Mrs. Maroney was smart. She had followed closely after Madam Imbert and

acted the part of a "shadow." As the latter came out of the brokers'

office and approached the corner of Chestnut street, Mrs. Maroney met

her.

"I am glad to meet you," said she; "I am on my way to Second street to

get some goods. Did you get your money changed?"

Madam Imbert was prepared.

"Yes," said she, "but I did not have much. I have the most of my money

in a safe place. At the Third street bank, they told me they did not

have any Eastern funds and looked very queerly at me, so I went to the

brokers' office and they finally changed it. A person has to be

cautious, as it is sometimes very difficult to succeed. People ask

questions at times that it is impossible for one to answer. You have

never had to do so much in this way as I have! have you?"

"No!" replied Mrs. Maroney, coloring deeply; "but I suppose I shall have

to learn! I will tell you a secret of mine some time. You may be of

great use to me, will you help me if you can?"

"Yes," said Madam Imbert, recalling her poor husband languishing in

confinement. "Your husband is like mine, both are in prison. I feel

strongly drawn toward you and will do all I can for you. Oh! why can't I

succeed in getting my darling free!"

They had reached the dry-goods store and went in to make their

purchases.

I was desirous of impressing upon Mrs. Maroney the difficulties in the

way of changing money, and my plan was successful beyond my

expectations. She saw the trouble Madam Imbert had at the bank and at

the brokers, and learned that bankers and brokers were liable to ask

very pointed questions when changing money. If she had any idea of

changing her stolen money she might be frightened out of it, and prefer

to rely for assistance on Madam Imbert, who seemed an experienced hand.

After they had made their purchases the ladies returned to Mitchell's

and were driven home by De Forest.

Madam Imbert spent the evening with Mrs. Maroney, but nothing of

interest transpired. A day or two after, as they were seated in the

garden, Mrs. Maroney took Madam Imbert partially into her confidence and

gave her a sketch of her life, which, it must be confessed, as narrated

by her, made her appear very pure and spotless. She said that Maroney

met her a heart-broken widow, and that she married him only to prevent

him from committing suicide, so desperately smitten was he; that they

came to Montgomery, where Maroney was appointed agent of the Adams

Express--a very lucrative position--and then continued:

"Maroney had a good deal of money of his own, but did not talk much

about it, in fact kept it a secret from every one but me. No one is

obliged to state what he is worth. He was a very kind-hearted man and

fairly idolized my little Flora. He was making arrangements to buy a

plantation and a lot of slaves; had made money buying and selling

horses, and owned a large interest in a livery stable in Montgomery. On

a trip he made to the North he purchased a fast horse named "Yankee

Mary," and used to take me out for a drive every day. Nat. is one of the

best men that ever lived, but he is a little inclined to be careless. We

were as happy and contented as could be, when--oh! unfortunate day for

us!--the Adams Express was robbed and my husband was accused of the

theft. He was arrested in Montgomery, but liberated on small bail. Soon

afterward I came North on a visit, and when he came to bring me home he

was arrested in New York and thrown into prison. I immediately went

South, sold all his property and secreted the money about me, so that

the Adams Express would not get hold of it. I have now the money

secreted here; but there have been a great many small burglaries

committed around here, and I am in constant dread of its being stolen. I

don't dare leave Jenkintown for a night, and fervently wish my husband

were out of jail to take care of it. What do you do with your money,

Madam Imbert?"

"I take care of it in various ways. Sometimes I carry large amounts

concealed on my person; but the last time I was away I placed the most

of it in a safe place."

"I wish I knew of a safe place. If my husband were only out, he would

soon find one," remarked Mrs. Maroney.

"What are his prospects for getting out?" asked the Madam.

"Well, I don't know, indeed; he is sometimes hopeful, sometimes in

despair; he has been writing me lately of a friend of his named White,

who was imprisoned a day or two after him. White has managed to make

arrangements to effect his own release on bail, and when he gets out,

has promised to assist Nat."

"If White managed to get himself out, I should think him just the man to

assist your husband," said Madam Imbert.

"Nat. thinks so too; but he probably will not decide on any plan until

White gets out, when they together may do something."

A day or two after this long conversation, Mrs. Maroney again alluded to

the robberies taking place in Jenkintown, and expressed much anxiety for

the safety of her treasure.

Madam Imbert informed her that she expected a friend of hers to come in

a day or two to exchange some money for her. She had to have some to

send to her husband's lawyer, who was making every effort to effect his

release. "If your money is bulky, from being in bills of small

denominations, he might exchange it for you and give you large bills,

which you could easily carry with you. I have transacted a good deal of

business with him, and have always found him careful and honest. If you

wish, I will introduce you to him."

Mrs. Maroney was always very suspicious, and her fears were somewhat

aroused by the proposition. "What sort of a man is he?" she inquired.

"I know nothing further of him than what I have told you; he has always

acted honestly with me."

"Could you not manage to have the money exchanged for me without my

being known in the transaction?" asked Mrs. Maroney.

"Yes, I could, but it would be better for you to see him."

"Oh, no; there is no necessity of his knowing me. You can introduce me

as a friend, if you like, but get the money changed as if it were your

own, and pay him well for it."

"Just as you please," answered the Madam.

Mrs. Maroney wished in this way to compromise Madam Imbert, and get her

into the same boat with Maroney and her. I was doing everything possible

to bring out the money, and was able to protect my detectives. I had

placed tempting bait for both Maroney and his wife, and they were

nibbling strongly. My anglers were experts, and would soon hook their

fish, and after playing them carefully would land them securely.

Mrs. Maroney's confidence in Madam Imbert increased daily, until finally

she said to her: "Madam Imbert, you would do me a great favor if you

would take charge of some money packages I have. You could put them in a

safe place, and let me have small amounts now and then, as I needed

them. When my husband gets out we can use the money; but now we do not

need it. The Adams Express might find out I have money, and they might

try to get possession of it. It is not theirs, but they would make

trouble for me if they could."

"No," replied the Madam, "that I could not do. I don't want to be

bothered with other people's money. I have enough trouble with my own.

If I should take yours, I should never have any rest, fearing it might

be stolen; and if it should be, I could never forgive myself. No, it is

better for you to take care of it. I will advise you all I can, but

cannot take the responsibility of protecting your property."

Mrs. Maroney wrote to her husband and asked his advice. She informed him

that she had followed Madam Imbert and had discovered her exchanging

money, thus proving that she was telling the truth; and now she knew she

could trust her. She spoke of the Madam's refusal to take charge of the

money, but said she had agreed to get it exchanged, and asked him what

she had better do.

Maroney talked the affair over with White, and asked his opinion as to

the best course to pursue. "She may do very well," said he, "but I don't

know as I would trust her. You never saw her. She may be a first-rate

woman, or she may be the opposite. If I were in your place I should wish

to see her before I trusted her. It would be well to have your wife

bring her to the jail to see you. Some women are smart, and she may be.

As a general thing women are very good as playthings, but trusting them

is an entirely different matter."

Maroney carefully considered the matter, and finally wrote to his wife,

directing her to induce Madam Imbert to accompany her to Eldridge street

jail, as he wanted to see her and judge of her character before trusting

her too far.

On receipt of this letter, Mrs. Maroney called on Madam Imbert, said she

was going to New York to see her husband, and asked the Madam to

accompany her. She said they would have a pleasant trip, and return home

the same evening.

De Forest came up at this moment, and interrupted the conversation.

"Good morning, ladies," said he gaily, "I have come to ask you to take

a fish-dinner with me at Manayunk."

Madam Imbert declined the invitation, but Mrs. Maroney concluded to go,

and started off with the happy De Forest. Madam Imbert returned to

Stemples's, hired his team, and drove into the city. She reported to me,

and asked for instructions about going to New York with Mrs. Maroney. I

told her to go; gave her full instructions, and then had an interview

with the Vice-President. I told him that all was working well, and

received his congratulations. Everything seemed auspicious, and pointed

to speedy success. It was true that a good deal of money was being

spent, but there was no other way to carry the matter to a successful

termination.

Madam Imbert returned to Jenkintown in time for supper, and, after a

hearty meal, called at Cox's. She found no one at home but Mrs. Cox and

the children. Mrs. Cox said her sister had not returned from her ride,

and she feared that she must have met with some accident. Madam Imbert

conversed with her until between eight and nine, when Josh. and Rivers

came in.

Mrs. Cox said, "Josh., Mrs. Maroney has not reached home yet. I fear she

has met with some accident."

"Hasn't she? Well, I'll go and hunt her up. Come along, Rivers."

"Josh., you good for nothing fellow. You must wait here; don't you know

you should not leave the house unguarded at this time?"

"Oh!" thought Madam Imbert, "danger in leaving the house, eh! So there

are two more in the secret,--Josh. and his wife!"

Josh. said he would only step down the road, and would soon return.

Nine o'clock came, but no Mrs. Maroney or De Forest. Madam Imbert did

not know what to make of it, and began to think something unusual was

under way. She arose to leave, but Mrs. Cox said: "Please don't leave me

alone. Josh. will soon be back. Won't you stay down and watch the house,

while I put the children to bed? Flora is asleep, and I am lonesome. I

do wish that shiftless fellow would come home."

"I am very tired," remarked Madam Imbert, preparing to leave, "and am

afraid the tavern will be closed, as it is getting late; but I will see

if I can find Josh., and send him home."

"If you don't find him, please come back," pleaded Mrs. Cox.

"Well, I'll do that," said she, going out. She walked to Stemples's, and

without going into the bar-room, where she knew she would find Josh.,

went to her room and instructed Miss Johnson to find Rivers and tell him

to keep Josh. for an hour. She then returned to Cox's.

Miss Johnson found that Rivers was with Josh., Barclay and Horton, in

the bar-room. She walked by the door, and, unobserved by the others,

gave Rivers a signal to come out. He slipped out, and as he passed her

she said: "Rivers, keep Cox for an hour," and in a second he was back

calling for more drinks, and getting off jokes which brought down roars

of laughter.

_CHAPTER XXIV._

Mrs. Cox was very much pleased when Madam Imbert returned, and started

up stairs to put the children to bed. There was not a moment to lose. As

soon as they left the room Madam Imbert rushed to the outer door and

listened. She was satisfied. No one was coming, and so, grasping a lamp,

she went down into the cellar. Her quick eye took in every thing at a

glance, but she could discover nothing out of the way. The floor was a

common earthen one, but no signs of recent digging were to be seen. She

pitched in, and for a few moments worked like a Trojan; she removed and

replaced all the barrels, crocks, dishes, everything under which

articles might possibly be concealed, but found nothing. She again

searched carefully over the floor, and in the centre of the cellar saw

slight signs of where the ground might have been lately dug up, and the

soil carefully replaced. She knelt down to examine it more carefully,

when she heard the rumbling of wheels. She sprang to her feet and rushed

up stairs. She was none too soon, as she was hardly seated before Mrs.

Maroney came in. She was greatly surprised to see Madam Imbert, and

exclaimed: "What! you here? It is rather late for you to be out, is it

not?" Madam Imbert saw at once that she was slightly intoxicated. She

replied:

"Yes indeed it is! I found your sister all alone, and she begged me to

stay until she got the children in bed."

Mrs. Cox came in at this moment, looking very angry. "Where have you

been all this time? You ought to know better than to leave me all alone.

Josh. has gone out with Rivers, and I believe they must be drinking. I

am angry with Rivers. Josh. is getting to drink more than ever since he

came here. It is too bad in you to stay away so long! I had to beg Madam

Imbert to stay with me, and Flora has just gone to bed crying for her

ma!"

"Madam Imbert, I am very sorry I have been the cause of your late stay,"

said Mrs. Maroney. Then, pointing to some dirt on the Madam's

dress--which had come from the cellar--she exclaimed: "What's that on

your dress?"

Madam Imbert looked carelessly at it, and said: "Why, I thought I had

brushed that all off! When I was out looking for Josh. I stumbled and

gave my knee a terrible wrench." Then glancing at the clock, she said:

"Why, how late it is! Miss Johnson will think that I am lost. Good

night!"

"No, don't go yet; have a little brandy? It will do you good, as the air

is quite chilling. Do you know that De Forest is a very fine fellow? I

have a much higher opinion of him than ever before." She got the brandy

and partially filled a tumbler with it. Madam Imbert just touched the

liquor with her lips, and then passed it back to Mrs. Maroney, who

drained the glass at a single draught.

"You are doing wrong," remarked the Madam; "you should remember your

promise to your husband."

"Well, I shall not be going to-morrow. I shall suffer for this by having

a severe head-ache. Was any one with you, down here, while sister was

putting the children to bed?" asked Mrs. Maroney, looking full into

Madam Imbert's face, but she saw nothing suspicious there. "No,"

answered Madam Imbert, as innocently as a lamb.

The two ladies walked out of the house together, and Mrs. Maroney

accompanied the Madam a short distance up the street, when they met

Josh. and Rivers. Mrs. Maroney went home with Josh., and Madam Imbert

told Rivers to keep watch on Cox's house, as something was in the wind.

Rivers informed her she would have to hurry back to the town, as

Stemples would soon close up for the night. Rivers passed slowly around

the house. He knew that Josh. had taken enough to make him sleep well,

and that Mrs. Maroney was in about the same condition, so that Mrs. Cox

was the only one he had to fear. After a while he crawled close up to

the cellar window. He heard an animated conversation going on inside,

but could not distinguish the words. Some one closed a door with a bang,

and all sound ceased. He looked up and noticed a light pouring through a

narrow window, which he knew lighted a closet opening off from the

sitting-room. He climbed up to it and saw, what was to him at least, an

amusing scene. Josh., his wife, and Mrs. Maroney, were seated in the

room. Mrs. Maroney looked as though in a violent passion, and plainly

showed that she had been drinking. Josh. was making desperate efforts to

look and act perfectly sober, but in spite of his efforts he would

occasionally give a loud hiccough, while Mrs. Cox sat bolt upright in

her chair, looking in sober disgust on both of them. Rivers, in his new

position, could see and hear all that was going on. Mrs. Maroney was

talking in an excited manner.

"What brought that Madam Imbert here to-night? I am suspicious of that

woman. She is very smart, and I saw dirt on her dress. It seems plain to

me that she has been in the cellar, and down on her knees. What made you

go up stairs and leave her here all alone?"

"You have confidence in her, but you have been drinking, and that makes

you suspicious," replied Mrs. Cox.

"How dare you talk to me in this way?" yelled Mrs. Maroney. "I know my

business! You know why I am living here, and supporting you and your

worthless, good for nothing vagabond of a husband. He could never earn a

living for himself, to say nothing of taking care of a family. All I

want you to do is to obey me and keep your mouths shut, and I will pay

you well for it; Josh. is always drunk and blabbing about."

Josh. attempted to say something.

"Hold your tongue, you fool! you are so drunk now you don't know what

you are doing!"

"Why," said Cox, "I did take a drop too much, but I don't believe I have

taken half so much as you!"

In a second Mrs. Maroney grasped a pitcher and smashed it over Josh.'s

skull! Mrs. Cox sprang to assist her husband. For a moment there was a

lively time, and the prospects were good for a regular scene, but quiet

was soon restored, and Josh., muttering, went off to bed.

[Illustration: _In a second, Mrs. Maroney grasped a pitcher and smashed

it over Josh.'s skull._--Page 222.]

"I must go into the cellar the first thing in the morning," said Mrs.

Maroney. "Don't look at me in that way; my faculties are all clear. No

one must go into it until I come down, as I want it to remain just as it

is. I am suspicious of that Madam Imbert. There was no necessity of her

being here so late, or of your leaving her alone, you fool! Be sure,

now, not to let any one go down!" Mrs. Maroney then took a lamp and

started for her room. Rivers listened for some time, and finding all

quiet, went up to Stemples's.

He saw a light in Madam Imbert's room, and after listening around, and

finding no one stirring, he went quietly under her window and threw some

dirt against the panes. The light in the room was instantly turned down.

Soon afterward, the window was noiselessly raised, and Madam Imbert

poked her head out. "Who's there?" she asked, in a low tone.

"Rivers," he replied; "like to see you; important."

"Wait," said she; "I will be with you at the front door directly."

She was acquainted with all the modes of egress, and threading her way

through the darkness, soon stood with Rivers in front of the house. He

reported all that had taken place.

Madam Imbert said: "I think it is all right, but still I may be

mistaken, and we must be sure. Can't you find some way to get into the

cellar? There is a small window, about two feet by thirteen inches,

which you might remove, and gain access in that way. It will be light at

four o'clock; it is now twelve, and every one at Cox's will be sound

asleep at that time. You can then slip in, and if I have disarranged

anything, put it to rights. Be sure not to get caught!"

"I will certainly do it," said Rivers, as he started to return to Cox's.

During his absence some one had set loose a dog that Cox owned. It was a

miserable cur, but was long-winded, like its master, and possessed of

good barking qualities. Rivers got well concealed, but the dog was after

him--bark, bark, bark; he tried all he could to quiet him, but could

not. Soon a neighboring dog commenced to howl; then another, and

another, until all the dogs in the village had joined in a grand chorus.

He did not know what to do. He was concealed by the side of a fence, but

did not dare strike the dog, which kept a few paces from him, barking

incessantly. Mrs. Maroney heard the noise, and opening her window, said;

"Sic, sic; good fellow, sic."

Rivers jumped up and got the dog to follow him until he reached a field

some distance from the house, when, with a well-directed throw he

stunned him with a large stone, and soon stamped all life out of him. He

then took the "melancholy remains," placed them at Barclay's door, and

returned to Cox's, where he found all quiet. He returned to his old

position and remained until day began to dawn.

At dawn he crawled to the window, easily removed it, and slipped into

the cellar. He examined everything carefully, found some marks on the

floor where barrels had been removed, and in less than half an hour had

obliterated all traces of Madam Imbert's operations. He then crawled

out, replaced the window, and quietly returned to his boarding-house. He

had made arrangements by which he could always let himself in or out at

any hour of the night. The family he boarded with thought he was

somewhat of a "rake," but as he always paid his bills promptly, liked

him for a boarder.

In the morning Madam Imbert was on the lookout, and between nine and ten

Rivers came along. He reported that he had replaced everything in the

cellar, and described how he had killed Josh.'s dog and left his remains

at Barclay's.

Madam Imbert strolled down to Cox's, and met Mrs. Maroney at the door.

She was more polite than usual, having made an examination of the cellar

and found her suspicions baseless. Soon Josh. and Rivers made their

appearance. Rivers remarked that he had heard a strange dog barking the

night before, and got up to find out what was going on, but could

discover nothing.

"Yes," said Mrs. Maroney, "that was Josh.'s dog. A man was lurking

around here before I went to bed, so I let the dog out. In a short time

I heard it after some one, and opened my window and set it on. You see,

Josh., how necessary it is for you to keep sober. If you had been up you

might have shot that scoundrel. This morning I saw his footprints

distinctly impressed in the walks."

"Well," said Josh., "if my dog got hold of him, he made a hole in his

leg, I'll bet. I know he is a good dog."

"Yes, I think he is," said Rivers, as he and Josh. strolled over toward

Barclay's.

Barclay met them on the way. "Josh.," says he, "that dog of mine is a

splendid animal, by George! You ought to have heard him bark last night.

A strange dog came around my place; my dog tackled him, and 'oh,

Moses,' how they _fit_! It ended by my dog's killing his antagonist.

Come and see how he _chawed_ him up!"

He led the way to where the dead carcass lay. As soon as they came in

sight of it Josh. dashed forward, and raising the dead animal by its

caudal appendage, angrily exclaimed: "That's my dog! You must be the man

who was lurking around my house last night! You had better go down and

explain to Mrs. Maroney what you were doing around there."

[Illustration: _Raising the dead animal by its caudal appendage, he

angrily exclaimed, "That's my dog!"_--Page 226.]

"What do you suppose I could be doing at your house?" asked Barclay,

much perplexed. "Why, I was not out of my house once last night."

"I tell you," said Josh., "Mrs. Maroney will walk into you when she

finds this out. You ought to have seen her last night. She smashed a

pitcher over my head, and I believe she would have killed me, if my wife

had not pitched into her. Of course I could not strike back, as she is a

woman."

Rivers invited them up to Stemples's, and in less than an hour Cox and

he had impressed upon Barclay the necessity of his seeing Mrs. Maroney

and explaining to her that he had not been lurking around the night

before.

They started off together, and arrived at Josh.'s residence just as

Madam Imbert and Mrs. Maroney were coming out. Barclay immediately went

up to her and assured her that he had not been loafing around the night

before.

"Who said you had?" said Mrs. Maroney, now fully convinced that it _was_

he. "Who said you had?" and she opened upon him with a perfect tirade of

abuse.

Madam Imbert took her by the arm and drew her to one side. "Mrs.

Maroney, don't take any notice of that man. He is a fool, and your best

plan is to let him severely alone. Some people may be wiser than others,

and will begin to suspect that something is wrong if you go on so. You

know the old saying: 'Walls have ears?'"

"You are right, you seem to be always right," said Mrs. Maroney, and she

let the matter drop.

_CHAPTER XXV._

The two women left Barclay perfectly dumbfounded and walked over to the

garden. Mrs. Maroney said she was going to New York in the morning to

see her husband, and begged the Madam to accompany her. Madam Imbert

agreed to go, saying that she had some purchases to make. They concluded

to hire Stemples's team in the morning and drive into Philadelphia, put

it up at some livery stable, go to New York, visit Maroney, return to

Philadelphia, and drive home in the evening.

Nothing of importance took place the day they visited New York. Green

knew of their intended trip and "shadowed" them to New York and back.

All he had to report was that nothing had transpired worthy of mention.

It is quite as important to find that nothing takes place as to note

what actually occurs, for thus the case is cleared of all uncertainty.

The "shadow" reports truthfully of all things just as he finds them.

The women, on their arrival in New York, went directly to Eldridge

street jail and Mrs. Maroney introduced Madam Imbert to her husband. She

then had a long private conversation with him and afterwards re-joined

Madam Imbert. The three had a pleasant chat, Maroney acting in all

respects the part of a perfect gentleman. His face showed deep anxiety,

but he talked very cheerfully and told Madam Imbert that he hoped soon

to have the pleasure of meeting her at Jenkintown. He assured her that

he would soon be free and would then take vengeance on his enemies.

He said he intended to go to Texas and buy a ranche. The Rio Grande

country just suited him, and he expatiated at length on the beauty of

the country and the salubrity of its climate.

After a few hours passed in social converse they parted. Mrs. Maroney

went to visit a friend on Thirty-first street and Madam Imbert to do her

shopping. They agreed to meet at the Jersey City ferry at four o'clock.

Green followed Mrs. Maroney. She visited her friend, stopped some time

and then met Madam Imbert at the appointed place and time.

On the road to Philadelphia Mrs. Maroney spoke of her husband and said

he was very much pleased with the Madam, and thought her a very

fine-looking, intelligent woman, in fact just the person to help them;

but he was about to carry out a plan which he knew would be successful.

White was soon going to be released on bail and would then arrange

everything for him. In the meantime, she was to wait quietly and do

nothing, as he would shortly be with her.

On getting into Philadelphia they ordered their team and drove out to

Jenkintown. The same day White came to Maroney and said:

"Congratulate me, old fellow. Shanks has just brought me some letters

from my attorneys and I find that all has gone well. My affairs are in a

much better condition, and now, after a long and irksome confinement, I

am about to be liberated on bail. In two or three days, or by the end

of this week, at farthest, I shall be at liberty."

"I am delighted to hear of your good fortune," answered Maroney in a

hearty tone. "You must not forget me when you are out, but as soon as

you can arrange your own affairs, turn your attention to mine. I am

anxious to see the plan to entrap Chase at once set in operation. Won't

it be a good joke when McGibony nabs him and finds the money on his

person? Ha! ha! ha! what will the Adams Express say then? They will feel

rather sore over their pet, I reckon."

He laughed over the idea for some time, while a fiendish expression of

joy settled on his face.

"I'll attend to it as soon as possible," said White; "but you see I have

no money of my own that I can use at the present time. I would gladly

advance you the necessary amount if I could, but all my available cash

will have to go as security to my bondsmen. I believe you a thorough

good fellow, and will cheerfully do all in my power for you."

"I don't wish you to advance the money for me. I know you would if you

could; but you and I are about in the same fix. We have plenty of funds,

but can't use them at present. I believe I shall be able to raise the

money in some way before long. If the job works well with Chase I shall

be completely vindicated. Another thing, the suit against me will soon

come up, and my counsel says that I am sure to win it. I shall be the

only witness on the part of the defendant and shall have to swear that I

never took any of the money. This will be the truth, as a cent of money

never came wrongfully into my possession. It is a good thing they did

not know I had an interest in the livery stable, or they would surely

have seized that."

"I have a good lawyer," said White, "he has carried me through

successfully, and as soon as possible after I get out I will help you."

The next day Bangs disguised himself and called at the jail as White's

counsel. He had a long talk with him in his cell and then walked briskly

out in the manner of a lawyer with a large practice, whose moments are

precious; but lawyers have one object, while he had another. Bangs

wished to avoid the scrutiny of the prisoners, as there might be some of

them who knew him.

White came smilingly up to Maroney after Bangs left and said:

"My case is surely arranged, and I am off to-morrow."

"Are you, indeed?" exclaimed Maroney. "I am delighted to hear it;" but

his voice sank. It seemed as if he wanted White out, so that he could

help him, but was afraid to trust him. He turned and walked away, came

back, and again congratulated White. White assured him that he was going

in the morning. "So soon?" remarked Maroney; "well, I am happy to find

you are. I don't want to see any man kept in jail. My own case will soon

come up, and after I am cleared here, the trial in Montgomery will be a

perfect farce. I shall write to my wife and tell her how well you have

succeeded. Isn't it strange, White, that I have taken such a liking to

you? You are the right man for me. There is not a soul in this jail but

you whom I would trust." He walked into his cell and wrote a letter to

his wife. Several times he came out and conversed with White. He seemed

to have something on his mind which he wished to disclose, but lacked

the courage to do so. He finally backed down entirely, and concluded to

wait. He played several games of cards with White and the other

prisoners, and then conversed with Shanks, who came to remove some of

White's baggage. He found that White had taken a room on Bleeker street,

and the moving of his effects showed how near at hand was the moment of

his departure.

The next day was an eventful one, and clearly proved the soundness of my

theory. After breakfast Maroney took White's arm, and walked around the

hall several times with him, his manner plainly showing that he was very

much embarrassed. He finally drew him into a quiet corner opposite to

where the prisoners were congregated playing cards and amusing

themselves in various ways. "White," said Maroney, "I am going to

entrust to you my secret. I feel that I can trust you; I know I can. I

have watched you closely, and find that you are true as steel. Now

listen: I have invited you to take hold of my matters, and in order to

give you a clear understanding of my case, it becomes necessary for me

to divulge to you what at present is known only to my wife and myself.

It is useless for me to ask, but still I wish you to give me your solemn

promise to keep my secret inviolate."

"Oh, yes, I'll do that," said White, "but I have got a good deal of

business of my own to attend to, and if you think you can't trust me,

you had better keep it to yourself."

"No, no, nothing of the kind! I know I can trust you!" said Maroney,

"and you have given the promise. Now, White, who do you think stole the

fifty thousand dollars?"

"I am sure I don't know," replied White.

"Well, I did! I stole it from the company, and have been able to keep it

so far. If you will assist me, I shall continue to do so. Would you have

stolen it if you had been in my place?"

"Certainly," exclaimed White; "do you think I am a fool? I shall make a

big pile in my operation."

"Then," said Maroney, "if we only join our forces, we shall make some

one howl."

Neither spoke for some minutes. White acted as if the matter was a

common, every-day occurrence; but he thought: "He has broken the ice; I

shall soon hear it all."

Maroney was the first to break the silence. He said: "I first stole ten

thousand dollars, which was brought to my office on Sunday, by the

messenger from Atlanta. This package was intended for a party in

Columbus, Ga. It had been missent, and forwarded by mistake to Atlanta,

instead of to Macon, and from Atlanta to me in Montgomery. My duty was,

on receipt of the package, to immediately telegraph to Atlanta of its

arrival, and to send it off by the train that left that evening for

Columbus. I had no right to the package, and should have immediately

re-billed it and sent it off. I was certain that no one knew that it had

been missent. It had evidently found its way into the pouch through a

mistake, as it was not marked on the way-bill, or its presence known to

the messenger. I never thought I should be guilty of theft till the

time; but the moment I saw the package it flashed into my mind that if I

took it I would never be detected. The temptation was too strong to be

withstood. I yielded to it, and without any one's seeing me, dropped the

package under the counter. The messenger did not see it, and as his

way-bill checked up all right, soon left the office. I watched my chance

and put the packet of money into my coat-pocket and went home.

"You see, White, that was my first offense, and I felt rather

frightened. I felt sorry that I had yielded to the temptation, but could

not part with the money, it seemed so completely to have infatuated me.

I took it home and hid it, but did not tell my wife a word about it. In

a short time despatches were sent all around to the different agents to

find, if possible, where the package was. I received several of them,

but reported that I had not seen or heard anything of it. I was so

assured of the impossibility of my detection that I had lost all the

fears that at first assailed me, and was as cool as a cucumber.

"The General Superintendent came around with several detectives, but

they could not find the money. I was tried in many ways, but I never

flinched, and they finally had to give the matter up.

"In a short time I asked for leave of absence to make a visit to the

North. It was granted me, and I started off, with the ten thousand

dollars in my possession. I soon found that I was followed by a

detective, and I led him a wild-goose chase until I reached Richmond,

Va., where I gave him the slip, and he never knew where I went. I did

the same in the forty-thousand-dollar case. I gave them all the slip at

Chattanooga."

"No matter about that," said White; "if you are going to give me a

statement, give me a clear one, and not jumble everything together."

"Well, I gave the detective the slip at Richmond, and went to Winnsboro,

S. C. There I passed myself off as a cotton buyer, but had great

difficulty in making a purchase, as Robert Agnew, a prominent

cotton-broker, held all the cotton in the neighborhood, and did not care

to sell as he expected a rise in price every day. After some dickering I

induced him to sell me seven thousand five hundred dollars' worth, which

I paid for with the stolen funds of the company.

"I had the cotton shipped to R. G. Barnard, Charleston, S. C., to be

sold, proceeds to be remitted to me, in Montgomery. The cotton was sold

and the amount forwarded to me in two drafts on New York, one of which I

had cashed in that city, and the other in Montgomery. I lost quite a sum

by my speculation, as cotton did not rise, but fell. I was perfectly

contented to stand the loss, as the stolen money was exchanged. I bought

"Yankee Mary" with the two thousand five hundred dollars remaining, and

returned to Montgomery, after having successfully disposed of all the

stolen money.

"On my return I found everything quiet, and went on with my duties as

usual; but one day the Superintendent came to me and said the company

had concluded to change agents, and that I had better resign. I did so

at once, saying that I was just about going into business on my own

account. I must say that when I met the General Superintendent I did

not like his looks, as he seemed to suspect me. He made many enquiries

as to how I got my money, but was unable to ascertain anything.

"The Superintendent of the Southern Division asked me to take charge of

the office until my successor arrived, and I willingly consented. The

Superintendent had much suavity of manner, and it was hard for me to

tell whether he considered me guilty or not. I rather thought he

suspected me. When I found that my time with the company was to be so

short I determined to make a good haul, as I knew I could never get a

situation in the business again, for the Adams Express was the only

express company in the South. I began to look around to see how I could

best accomplish my purpose. I studied the character of the different

messengers, and thought Chase the best man to operate upon. I determined

to wait until I had a good heavy run out, and then put my plan in

operation. Chase was a good, clever fellow, but careless. I tried him in

several ways, and found that he could be "gulled" more easily than any

of the other messengers. I could not do anything on the runs in, as the

messengers checked the packages over to me, but on the runs out I

checked over to them, and, with a careless man like Chase, it would be

the simplest thing in the world to call off packages, and, as he checked

them off, for me to drop them behind the counter instead of into the

pouch."

_CHAPTER XXVI._

On the twenty-seventh of January I had a very heavy run in, and among

numerous other packages were four that attracted my attention; one for

Charleston, S. C., for two thousand five hundred dollars, and three for

Augusta, Geo., for thirty thousand, five thousand and two thousand five

hundred dollars respectively. Chase was going out in the morning, and

then was the time to act. I got an old trunk that was lying in the

office, and packed it full of different articles, among other things

four boxes of cigars. Early in the morning I was up and down at the

office. Chase soon came in, drew his safe over to the counter, and began

to check off the packages marked on the way-bill, as I called them off

and placed them in the pouch. If he had obeyed the rule of the company

he would have taken each package in his hand and placed it in the pouch,

but he carelessly allowed me to call off the amounts and place the

packages in the pouch. In this way, as he stood outside of the counter,

I was enabled to call off all the packages on the way-bill, but dropped

the four containing the forty thousand dollars under the counter amongst

a lot of waste paper I had placed there for the purpose. The way-bill

checked off all right; Chase said "O. K.," so I locked the pouch, handed

it to him, and he locked it up in his safe. He then went to breakfast,

leaving me alone in the office. I immediately picked up the packages,

distributed their contents into four piles of equal size, removed the

cigars from the boxes, and placed a pile of money in each. I then filled

the space above the money with cigars, nailed down the lid of the boxes,

placed them in the trunk, tied it up and directed it to W. A. Jackson,

Galveston, Texas. There was a wagon loading at the door. I had the box

immediately placed on it, and within an hour of the time I had taken the

money it was on its way down the Alabama river, for Mobile. The boat

started down the river at the same time that Chase left for Atlanta.

That is what I call sharp work. No one but me knew of the loss of the

packages.

[Illustration: "_As he stood outside of the counter, I was enabled to

call off all the packages on the way-bill, but dropped the four

containing the forty thousand dollars under the counter._"--Page 237.]

"Chase was in his car, perfectly at ease, but when he reached Atlanta he

was destined to receive a shock he would not soon forget. As soon as he

arrived there the loss was discovered, and the Assistant Superintendent

of the Southern Division, who happened to be in the Atlanta office,

immediately telegraphed to me for an explanation. I did not take the

trouble of answering the despatch, and he came on to Montgomery that

night to investigate. All I had to say was that I had checked the money

over to Chase, and they would have to look to him for an explanation.

Telegrams came thick and fast, but I was nerved up to pass through

anything, and left them unnoticed.

"When Chase returned to Montgomery he was greatly excited and appeared

much more guilty than I. The Assistant Superintendent was in the office

when he arrived. I received the pouch from Chase, checked off the

way-bill, found the packages all right, and throwing down the pouch,

placed the packages in the vault. I then returned and picked up the

pouch as if to look into it. I had my knife open, but concealed in my

coat sleeve. As I raised the pouch to look into it, I slipped the knife

into my hand and in a second cut two slits in the pouch and threw the

knife back up my sleeve. I immediately said to Mr. Hall, who stood

directly in front of me, 'Why, it's cut! How the messenger could carry

the pouch around, cut in this manner, and not discover it, is

astonishing!'

"The Assistant Superintendent examined the pouch and found it cut, as I

had stated. This was a great point in my favor, and the Assistant

Superintendent was at once convinced that I was innocent of any

participation in the robbery. No one suspected me after this until the

Vice-President and General Superintendent came. They looked at the

pouch, and one of them said, 'I understand this,' and they had the pouch

taken care of. This was the first thing that seemed to create suspicion

in the General Superintendent's mind. He had me arrested, but could not

prove any thing against me. My friends all stood by me, and I had to do

an immense amount of drinking. My wife one day asked me about the

robbery; I at first denied any knowledge of it, but she is smart and

does not easily give up. She kept at me and I finally concluded that the

best way to keep her still was to tell her all. So I owned up to her,

and then gave her some money and started her for the North. It is hard

for me to keep any thing entirely to myself, and especially hard to keep

any thing from my wife.

"I remained in Montgomery, but was not at all lonely, as I always had a

squad of friends around me. In fact I never knew before that I had so

many. I knew that the trunk was safe, but felt at times a little

apprehensive that some one might open it. Its contents were amply

sufficient to pay all charges on it in case it should never be claimed.

"After my arrest, I was taken before Justice Holtzclaw. At the

preliminary examination I was held in forty thousand dollars bail, but

at the final examination the company presented so weak a case that I

think I ought to have been discharged at once. The justice thought

differently, but reduced my bail to four thousand dollars, in which

amount I was bound over to appear for trial before the circuit court. I

easily procured bail, and was soon at liberty. I remained in Montgomery

after my release, keeping a sharp look out for detectives, as I felt

sure the company would have plenty of them on my track, but I could not

discover any. It was hard to believe they had none employed, as on the

ten thousand dollar case they had a small regiment of them; but none

were to be seen in Montgomery, and I concluded they must be looking for

the money in another direction. I had a slight mistrust of McGibony, but

soon proved to my entire satisfaction that he was not employed in the

case. Every thing went on smoothly, and I could discover nothing

suspicious going on around me. I at length determined to make an

excursion to several of the large Southern cities, to ascertain, if

possible, whether I would be followed. Before leaving, I wrote to the

agent of Jones's Express, at Galveston, assuming the name of W. A.

Jackson, and directed him to send my trunk to Natchez. I started out on

my trip and visited Atlanta, Chattanooga, Nashville and Memphis. I

scanned the passengers who came on board or left the trains, all the

guests who 'put up' at the various hotels where I stopped on my journey,

but could not discover a sign of a detective. By the time that I got to

Memphis I knew I was not followed, and so took the steamer 'John Walsh,'

intending to get off at Natchez, gain possession of my trunk, which must

have reached there, and go on down the river to New Orleans. When I

reached Natchez, I enquired of the agent of Jones's Express whether he

had a trunk for W. A. Jackson, shipped from Galveston, Texas. He

examined his book and said that he had not received such a trunk, but

that possibly it had been sent and detained in the New Orleans office. I

was now in a quandary; I was afraid to go to New Orleans and ask for the

trunk, as I knew the Adams and Jones's Express occupied the same office

in that city. Could it be possible that the company had suspicions of

the trunk and were holding it as a bait to draw me out? No! it was not

possible! Still, I did not care to go to the office and ask for the

trunk, as some one would be sure to know me, and my claiming a trunk as

W. A. Jackson would be proof positive to them that something was wrong

about it. They would seize and search it, and then my guilt would be

apparent. I finally determined to go to New Orleans, put up at the City

Hotel, and then carelessly drop into the office of the company and see

if I could discover the trunk lying around. I did so, and on coming into

the office was immediately recognized by the employés, some of whom were

glad to see me. I did not stay long; glanced around, saw the trunk was

not there, and returned to the hotel.

"I wanted to find whether the trunk had gone on to Natchez, so I wrote

a note, asking whether a trunk directed to W. A. Jackson, Natchez, was

in their possession or had been forwarded to its destination, and signed

it W. A. Jackson. I then walked out of the hotel, limping as if so lame

as to be scarcely able to walk, and met a colored boy standing on the

corner. I hired him to take the note to the office for me and bring back

the answer. He soon returned with a note which politely informed me that

the trunk had been sent to Natchez. I immediately returned to Natchez,

found the trunk, signed the receipt, paid the charges and left for

Mobile _via_ New Orleans, and I tell you I was more than pleased when I

arrived there with my trunk.

"When I reached Montgomery a bevy of my friends came down to see me.

Porter, one of my best friends--a splendid fellow--was amongst them, and

as he was clerk of the hotel I had him order my baggage up. He had a

carriage for me and we drove to Patterson's, and then went over to the

hotel. In the morning I had him bring the old trunk into my room. I

opened it before them all, carelessly took a few cigars from each of the

boxes and gave to them to try. In this way their suspicions in regard to

the old trunk, if they had any, were entirely dispelled.

"Mrs. Maroney was still in New York. I remained for some time in

Montgomery, still suspecting that some one was on my track, but could

find nothing to confirm my suspicions. It was getting time for me to

make some preparation for my defense. I had formed a plan to overthrow

the testimony of the company by having a key made to fit their pouch,

introducing it at the trial and proving that outsiders might have keys

as well as the agents. I was desirous of having the key made at once. It

could not be made in Montgomery or at New Orleans, for, though there

were plenty of locksmiths, their work was not fine enough to suit me; so

I concluded to go to New York and have one made.

"I had some business to transact with my wife also, and wrote to her to

meet me at a certain date in Philadelphia. I came North, met my wife in

Philadelphia, where we stopped a day or two, and then started for New

York. As I stepped ashore from the ferry-boat I was arrested. Never

before in my life was I so dumbfounded. I can't tell you how they knew

the time I would arrive. The detectives in Philadelphia must have been

after me while I was there, and when I left for here they must have

telegraphed, and thus secured my arrest. They brought me here and I told

my wife to come and see me in the morning. I was too confused to say

anything and my brain was in a maze. I never dreamed of the possibility

of arrest in New York. I might have been prepared for it in Montgomery,

but did not think it possible that anything of the kind could happen

here. My wife spoke to me on the subject, but I was unable to do or say

anything. I make it a rule, when I am confused and can't collect my

thoughts, to say nothing until I am calm, when I plan what I had better

do.

"In the morning I decided that it was necessary for my wife to go to

Montgomery and bring the money North with her. I was in jail and might

need the money to procure bail, which I would like to do now. Then,

there was danger in leaving the money where it was secreted--in the old

trunk in the garret--as Floyd might want to clear the garret out, and I

had several times seen him sell unclaimed baggage. My old trunk might be

sold for a trifle and some one take it home and find it contained a

treasure.

"As soon as she could, Mrs. Maroney went to Montgomery for the money. I

had informed her where it was concealed, and told her to get it and

bring it North.

"The money was rather bulky, as although there were some large bills,

there were a great many fives, tens, twenties and a few one hundred

dollar notes. The whole of it made a large pile, but my wife proved a

good hand. She fooled them all, and concealed the money in her bustle.

It was a troublesome weight to travel with, and she was obliged to stop

at Augusta, Ga., to rest herself. She also spent a day with my brother

at Danielsville, who promised to come and see me. He came, and, as you

know, accomplished nothing.

"My wife has now got the money concealed in the cellar of Josh. Cox's

house. Cox is her brother-in-law, and from what she tells me of him is a

good-natured fellow, but pretty shrewd. Mrs. Cox is very smart. They

never leave the house entirely alone, one or the other of them always

keeping watch.

"That Madam Imbert is said by my wife to be a fine woman. I was much

pleased with her when she came here the other day. Mrs. Maroney managed

well with her and discovered that her husband is imprisoned in Missouri.

She also followed her in Philadelphia and found her changing money. My

wife is smart, she suddenly confronted her and the Madam admitted all.

A man comes to see her who exchanges money for her. My wife was about

arranging with her to have the express money exchanged, but you are

going out and I prefer to entrust my affairs to you. You see, White, I

know I can trust you. There is only one thing that troubles me about

Jenkintown: A fellow named De Forest is stopping there and is quite

attentive to my wife. I think he is an agent of the Adams Express; but

from what my wife says, she is smart enough for him and can rope him in

long before he can her.

"Now I have told you all, and hope you will act in the matter just as

your judgment dictates. The fact of the matter is, your knowledge of the

North is so great that you can act much better than I."

"Yes," said White, "I understand the ropes well, and you may depend upon

it I will handle them as well as I know how. I think that as soon as I

get clear myself--which may take four, five, or six days--and have

settled up with my lawyers--I don't like those fellows, but sometimes

you can't get along without them--I think I will try and get a key to

the pouch made; I can do so easily. Then I will go to Montgomery and see

Chase, study his movements on the cars and at the hotels. I can at the

same time arrange to get the girl, whom I intend to bring from here,

into the Exchange, and as soon as possible get her acquainted with

Chase. But see here, don't you think it best to get some of the stolen

money to use in this case?"

"Certainly," said Maroney, "My wife will give you all the money you

need. I will give you a letter to her."

"No," said White, "I don't want to have anything to do with women. Your

wife may be perfectly true to you, but if I come in I doubt very much

whether she takes any interest in me, unless it be to thwart my plans."

"Why not?" asked Maroney. "My wife should know and take an interest in

all my affairs. She will do all in her power for us, and she is so

shrewd that she will be able to help us very much."

"Well," said White, "that may be all true enough, but women are sure to

get strange notions. I don't like to deal with them; women seem

naturally suspicious. I don't want to treat your wife with injustice,

but at the same time if she has a finger in the pie, ten to one she will

suspect me of trying to get the whole pile and intending to clear out

with it."

"Don't you believe that for a moment," replied Maroney. "She knows I

have entire confidence in you, and that will be enough for her. You need

have no fears that she will interfere in the matter in any way. I trust

you, and my word is law to her. I would prefer to have you take all the

money; you can then select what you want for Chase, and try and work off

the balance in small amounts. This will be a delicate operation, as the

banks very likely marked some of the bills before they shipped them."

"Yes, there are a great many obstacles to be overcome in changing the

money, but I think I can manage to work it off in some way."

_CHAPTER XXVII._

"White, I will write a letter to my wife which will pave your way to

gaining her implicit confidence."

"How will you do that?" asked White.

"I will write to her informing her that you are coming, and that you

will identify yourself by presenting a letter from me."

"Yes, but suppose she won't give up the money? I could not go back

again, as some of the detectives might suspect me and take me into

custody."

"Oh, nothing of the sort will happen. I will write you a letter that

will surely get the money; come, we will see what we can do." And they

sat down at a table, where Maroney began to write.

In a short time he finished a letter, and read it to White. He wrote:

"MY DEAREST WIFE: I have confided all to Mr. White. He will be

liberated to-day or to-morrow. He has some business to attend to,

which will detain him four or five days, when he will call on you

in the guise of a book-peddler. Now, I say to you, trust implicitly

in him! I have trusted him with my secret. He will take care of

all. Give him everything you have in the packages. Take no writing

from him, whatever. He requires something to work off on Chase, and

wants to use some of the stuff I got in Montgomery. When he

succeeds in this, Chase will be in my place. Then he will begin to

exchange all I have; afterwards all will be easy. When I am at

liberty, we can enjoy it in safety. I feel perfectly safe, and

confident. Now, dearest, as I have before said, trust him

implicitly, and all will be right.