White scanned its contents, and said: "I suppose this is sufficient, but
the question still remains: will she obey it? I will do the best I can,
but I have little faith in women."
"Oh, now!" said Maroney, "don't make me feel down-hearted. I have done
the best I can, and I know she will obey me."
"Very well," replied White, "I will go as soon as possible--in a week,
more or less; as soon as I can possibly arrange my own affairs. On my
arrival in Jenkintown I will write to you at once and let you know how I
am received."
"Agreed; I have trusted you, and my wife must trust you."
Shanks had several commissions to attend to. He first came to my room
in the hotel and handed me Maroney's letter to his wife. I opened and
read the letter, and exclaimed. "Now the battle is ours! Victory is
almost within our grasp." I saw the Vice-President and read the letter
to him. He was highly delighted and said he could now see the wisdom of
all my manoeuvres.
The following day White was released from his long confinement. It must
be admitted that his duties were extremely arduous, but such is often
the fate of a detective. I have sometimes had my men in prison for a
longer time than this, and they have often failed to accomplish any
thing, being obliged to give up without discovering what they were
looking for. White remained in New York attending to his _own_ business
after his release. He called once or twice on Maroney to show that he
had not forgotten him, and to assure him that he would soon get a
pouch-key made. This was easily accomplished, as all he had to do was to
go the Express Office, get a key, file it up a little to make it look
bright and new, and show it to Maroney as an earnest of his intentions
in regard to Chase.
We will now leave the parties in New York and return to Jenkintown. Very
little had taken place here and the various parties in whom we have an
interest were conducting themselves much as usual. Mrs. Maroney and
Madam Imbert went to Philadelphia on the same day that White was
liberated. They spent most of the day in the city and came out on the
cars in the evening. De Forest met them and drove them to Stemples's in
his buggy. After tea Madam Imbert went down to Cox's and strolled up to
the post office with Mrs. Maroney. Mrs. Maroney received a letter which
she opened. She said it was from Nat. She began to read it as they
walked along. As she read, Madam Imbert noticed that all color left her
face, and she became white as wax. She folded up the letter and leaned
heavily on the Madam's arm for support.
"What's the matter? are you sick?" she anxiously enquired.
"No; but I have received so strange a letter; walk along with me; I am
very weak; I will tell you its contents in a few minutes."
She did not go in the direction of Cox's, but led the way to the garden.
Here the two women took seats. She read the letter over again and then
handed it to Madam Imbert. "Read it," she said. The Madam did so.
Neither spoke for some time. "What do you think of it?" she at length
asked. "I think it a little strange, but at the same time have no doubt
but that it is all right. Your husband is of course the best judge in
this matter, and must have good reasons for taking the step. He has full
confidence in White; has been locked up with him for several months; has
seen him day and night, and doubtless has thoroughly studied his
character. White is almost like his wife, and he knows what he is doing
when he consents to trust him so far."
Mrs. Maroney was rapidly getting better and said, angrily, "No, I will
never give him the money in this way! it is all nonsense! 'What do I
know about White?' This is asking too much of me! Why did he not write
and consult me on the subject? He simply says, 'White is out of jail
now; give him the money!' and gives me no chance to speak on the
subject. Suppose White gets the money; how do I know but that he will
run away with it and leave us to suffer without getting any of the
benefit? Madam Imbert I must tell you all: you see that in this letter
Nat. does not mention money, but he means money. As you are now the only
one I can trust, I will talk plainly to you. My husband took the forty
thousand dollars from the Express Company, and also ten thousand dollars
previously. Now all is out! When he was thrown into prison in New York
he sent me for the money which he had concealed in Montgomery, and I
brought it here, and have it hidden in Josh.'s cellar. Now what am I to
do? If I give it to this man White, I shall probably never see it again;
in fact I am sure I never shall."
"You are mistaken, I think," said Madam Imbert; "have confidence!"
"_Confidence!_ It would be my best plan to run away myself!"--she was
going on still further, but Madam Imbert stopped her.
"Don't say any thing more at present, my dear Mrs. Maroney. You are too
excited to talk calmly; let the matter rest until morning."
They dropped the subject for the time, and as Mrs. Maroney expressed a
desire for a little brandy to calm her nerves, went down to Cox's. Mrs.
Maroney offered some brandy to the Madam, which she politely declined to
take, but this did not in the least abash her, for she gulped down
enough to stagger an old toper. Josh. was not at home, and so very
little was said.
Mrs. Cox asked her if she had received a letter from Nat.
"Yes," she answered in a snappish tone, and said no more.
Madam Imbert had accomplished all she desired for that day, and so left
Mrs. Maroney to herself. In the morning Mrs. Maroney sent Flora to her,
with a request that she would accompany her to Philadelphia. Madam
Imbert sent word that she would be happy to go and would come to Cox's
immediately.
De Forest met Flora and commenced playing with her.
"I must go right home," said she, "as ma is going to Philadelphia and
sent me with a message to Madam Imbert, asking her to go too. She said
she would, and is coming down to the house, so I must hurry home."
"What a fool I am," thought De Forest, "I would rather have her go with
me."
So he went to Cox's with Flora to offer his services. Mrs. Maroney
appeared troubled and excited. He knew that he never made progress with
her when she was in a moody state, so he timidly said that he was going
to Philadelphia and asked her to go along. She said, "No!" very harshly,
and he immediately vanished.
She started out and met Madam Imbert on the way down.
"Come back with me, I want to hire Stemples's team," she said.
Stemples soon had his team ready for them, and they started.
"I didn't want any one with me but you, Madam Imbert, as I am much
troubled and need your advice. I want to consult a lawyer, but don't
know how to go about it. There is a lawyer in Philadelphia, a good man,
in fact the same one my husband had at New York for consultation, and I
think I shall ask his advice."
"I would not do it, if I were in your place," advised Madam Imbert. "If
a lawyer once gets hold of the facts, he is much more likely to get all
the money than White."
"That is the trouble. Last night after you left, Josh. came in and we
talked the matter over. You know Josh. and the opinion I have of him,
but with all his faults he is shrewd. His wife and he held the same
opinion: that it would never do to trust White with the money, and Josh.
was in favor of changing its hiding place. I did not tell them that I
had told you all, but I intend to do so. I informed them that I was
going to the city to consult a lawyer, but they were both against me,
and now you are opposed to me and I don't know what to do, or what I am
doing. I am almost crazy!"
They drove up to a tavern on the way and she took some brandy, which
seemed to give her more courage.
When they reached the city Madam Imbert wished to report to Bangs, but
found it almost impossible to get away from Mrs. Maroney, who had
concluded not to ask the advice of a lawyer. They went into Mitchell's
and Madam Imbert managed to get away a few moments and reported to
Bangs.
She had not been with him ten minutes before Rivers, who was shadowing
Mrs. Maroney, came in and reported that she seemed very uneasy and had
been out on the street several times, glancing anxiously around. Madam
Imbert at once hurried back to Mitchell's.
"Where were you?" demanded Mrs. Maroney. "I am suspicious of you all!"
Madam Imbert drew herself up with an air of offended dignity which spoke
more than words.
"I am sorry I have offended you!" said Mrs. Maroney quickly. "Please
forgive me! I am so nervous that for a time I mistrusted even you and
thought you had gone for a policeman or a detective; let's have dinner
and go."
When they were on the return journey, Mrs. Maroney said:
"I feel much better on the road with you alone than when in the city. I
want to talk continually, and you are the only one to whom I dare talk.
However excited or miserable I may feel, companionship with you always
makes me feel happy and contented."
At the various taverns they passed on the road Mrs. Maroney always
stopped and invoked the aid of stimulants to cheer her up. She suddenly
turned to Madam Imbert and asked:
"Would you be willing to run away with me? We could go down into
Louisiana, where we are not known, buy a small place in some out of the
way town and live secluded for four or five years, until our existence
was forgotten, and then make our appearance once more in the fashionable
world, with plenty of money to maintain our position; or we might go to
New York and from there to England and the continent."
"Yes, we could do all that if we had the money," said the Madam; "but
you forget that at this time we cannot use it."
"You have plenty of money of your own and you might let me stop with
you for three or four years, as by that time we could use the express'
money without any risk."
"Yes, I would gladly keep you for years if that is all you want."
"When do you expect the man who exchanges your money? Could you not get
him here at once? Then we could go."
"I could write to him," replied the Madam, "and he would come at once,
provided my letter reached him, but sometimes I have to wait two or
three months after writing for him before he makes his appearance. He
travels a good deal, and comes to the place where he has his letters
directed only once in a while. He is a strange man, but very honest. I
will write to him to-night, if you say so, so that we can soon hear from
him and get him here."
They arrived in Jenkintown without arranging any decided plan. After tea
they again met. Mrs. Maroney said that she was so fatigued that even her
brain was so weary that she felt completely broken down, and must retire
early. Rivers arrived from Philadelphia on the cars long before the
women, and went down to see Josh. Josh. had remained at home all day
with his wife, and was glad of the excuse Rivers's coming gave him to go
down to Stemples's. He was moody and would not talk much. Even Barclay
could not get a word out of him. He was willing to drink, but spoke only
in monosyllables. At nine o'clock he went home. Rivers got into Cox's
yard and watched the house for about two hours, when finding all quiet,
he returned home and went to bed.
_CHAPTER XXVIII._
Time rolled on, and the third day after the trip to Philadelphia, Madam
Imbert was with Mrs. Maroney, who talked incessantly about giving up the
money. She alluded to Cox's idea of the question. He said that he would
never give White the money; that he did not know the man, and that he
would trust no one with forty thousand dollars. He declared that he had
now got the money, and that he was going to keep it. She insisted that
they should let her arrange the matter to suit herself. Mrs. Cox was,
like her husband, bound that White should not get the money. Every thing
appeared against White's chances of getting the money. At this time they
were seated in a secluded part of the garden. Mrs. Maroney glanced
around, saw that no one was near, and then said: "Madam Imbert, you are
accustomed to attend to affairs like mine; won't you take the money,
claim it as your own, and go with me to the West? You could then find
your friend, and he would be willing to exchange the money for two or
three thousand dollars--wouldn't he? I want to get away from here; my
sister is against me, and Josh. treats me as if he was my equal, or
superior."
Madam Imbert saw she must act very prudently. Mrs. Maroney must be
quietly dealt with. She wished her to give the money to White, as if she
took the money she would have to be a witness in the case. She wished
to avoid this, but if she could not succeed in making her turn the
money over to White, as a last resort she would take possession of it
herself. She therefore replied:
"No, I don't like to take it; I have enough of my own to look after. If
my poor husband were only out of jail he would get it changed for you in
short order. I don't want any more money about me at present; it would
go hard with me if I were discovered with the money on my person."
"There is little danger of that," said Mrs. Maroney. "I carried it all
the way from Montgomery and was not much inconvenienced by it; you must
help me."
"Mrs. Maroney, if I were in your place, I would do exactly as my husband
wished."
"Yes, yes," said she, "but who knows White? I never saw him."
"We will let the matter drop for the present. I will do all I can to
assist you. I wrote to my friend last night, and he will send an answer
directed to you in my care."
Mrs. Maroney was greatly pleased and went home in high spirits. On the
following day she got a letter from Maroney; he had seen White, and he
would be in Jenkintown in a day or two. He said White was opposed to
dealing with women, and if he did not get the money on his first visit,
he would never come back. He finished by entreating her to give up all
cheerfully, remembering that it was for the good of both. This letter
arrived in the evening, and Mrs. Maroney, after perusing it, told Madam
Imbert that she had made up her mind never to give up the money. "I will
burn it before I will give it to White," said she. Madam Imbert was
rather startled at this avowal, but on a second consideration was
convinced that it was a bit of braggadocio, and that there was not the
slightest fear of her carrying such a threat into execution. She found
Mrs. Maroney in too unreasonable a state of mind to accomplish any thing
with her that day, and she therefore returned to Stemples's.
The next day was decidedly a breezy day for all. Early in the morning
Mrs. Maroney sent for Madam Imbert, who at once joined her at Cox's.
Mrs. Maroney met her at the door.
"O, Madam Imbert, I am so glad you have come! Josh. has been acting in a
most independent manner. I almost believe he is right, in protesting
that he will not allow the money to go."
Madam Imbert appealed to Mrs. Maroney's sense of duty. She depicted in
glowing terms the happiness of the wife who looks only to her husband's
interests, and makes sacrifices in his behalf. She drew a touching
picture of Maroney's sufferings in jail, and tried to impress upon her
the conviction that it was more than probable that he had taken the
money so as to be able to place her in a situation where she could
command any luxury. What did Cox know about suffering, or of the steps
her husband found it necessary to take in order to effect his release?
When Maroney took the forty thousand dollars, he had to ship it at once
down the Alabama river, and now they could see how wise he was in so
doing. He had displayed consummate ability in every movement he had so
far made, and was it at all likely that he had lost his cunning? "He
loves you," said she, "and would do any thing for you. Your duty as a
wife is plain and simple; do as your husband wishes you to do."
Madam Imbert's reasoning was unanswerable, but to Mrs. Maroney it was a
bitter pill. Without saying a word, she led the way into the house,
where they met Cox, just coming up from the cellar. She had informed
both Josh. and his wife that she had made a confidante of Madam Imbert,
and they thought she had done wisely.
"Josh., have you been moving the money?" demanded she.
"No!" he replied, in rather a surly tone. Then turning to Madam Imbert,
he said: "You must have the same opinion of this matter as I! I think it
folly to give the money up to White. No one knows about this would-be
book peddler, and I will not give up the money to such a man. Let him
come to me and I will talk to him." Josh. strutted about the room with
the air of a six-footer. "I'll have it out of him in short order. I'll
show him he can't pull the wool over my eyes, as he seems to have done
over Nat.'s. I'll be d----d if I can understand it."
Cox was ably seconded in his opinion by his wife.
Mrs. Maroney had very little to say.
Madam Imbert said that, in her opinion, Josh. was entirely wrong.
Maroney knew better than they what was for his interest. As for her, if
her husband was to tell her to give up all she had, she would cheerfully
do so, as she knew he was best able to judge what was for the benefit of
them both.
The day passed in a continual wrangle. Madam Imbert could hardly get
away from Mrs. Maroney long enough to eat her meals. Mrs. Maroney and
Josh. dealt exclusively in brandy. Toward evening Josh. proclaimed his
intention of "raising" the money, and starting with it that night for
the West. He would hide himself until Maroney got out of jail, when he
would return and deliver the money over to him. Josh. was sublime in the
purity and philanthropy of his motives. He did not want a cent of the
money; not he! but he could not consent to see his brother-in-law
swindled while he stood by and calmly looked on, without making an
effort in his behalf. No! this he could not do. To his own serious
inconvenience, he would voluntarily tear himself from his family, impose
upon himself the task of becoming the watch-dog of Nat.'s treasure, and
for a time lose himself in the wilderness of the West. Madam Imbert
thought _his_ would be a clear case of "Though lost to sight, to memory
_dear_," but did not say so.
Mrs. Maroney rather took the wind out of his sails by saying: "Don't you
dare to 'raise' the money until I tell you to! I am in no hurry to have
it moved; the cellar has proved a safe hiding place so far, and I see no
reason why it should not so remain. You will please remember that it
belongs to Nat. and me. I am able to take care of it, so you may just
let it alone."
Josh. said no more, but mentally washing his hands of the whole
transaction, started for Stemples's. He found Rivers and Barclay there,
but said nothing about what had happened, further than that he was
having trouble at home.
In the evening Mrs. Maroney received a letter from her husband, stating
that the book-peddler would call the next day.
The next day was to be an eventful one for me. By noon I should know the
fate of my enterprise. I had no doubts about what the results would be,
but I should then have the proofs in hand to show my employers that the
confidence they had bestowed upon me had not been misplaced; that the
theory I had advanced and worked upon was the correct one; that my
profession, which had been dragged down by unprincipled adventurers
until the term "detective" was synonymous with rogue, was, when properly
attended to and honestly conducted, one of the most useful and
indispensable adjuncts to the preservation of the lives and property of
the people. The Divine administers consolation to the soul; the
physician strives to relieve the pains of the body; while the detective
cleanses society from its impurities, makes crime hideous by dragging it
to light, when it would otherwise thrive in darkness, and generally
improves mankind by proving that wrong acts, no matter how skilfully
covered up, are sure to be found out, and their perpetrators punished.
The great preventive of crime, is the fear of detection.
There are quacks in other professions as well as in mine, and people
should lay the blame where it belongs, upon the quacks, and not upon the
profession.
In the evening I received a letter from Madam Imbert, telling me of the
difficulties in the way of White's receiving the money. She was full of
hope, and said she thought she could manage to make Mrs. Maroney give up
the money; but if all else failed she would take the money herself. It
was often offered to her by Mrs. Maroney, and Josh. had said he had no
objections to her receiving it. She would make arrangements so that if
White did not get the money, she would. The money would be in
Philadelphia the next evening if she had to walk in with it herself.
The recovery of forty or fifty thousand dollars, to-day, is considered a
small operation; but in 1859, before the war, the amount was looked upon
as perfectly enormous.
I showed Madam Imbert's letter to the Vice-President. He was greatly
pleased to find success so near at hand, and agreed to make a little
trip with me in the morning.
White was with me, in Philadelphia, and I made all my arrangements for
the following day's work. I was up bright and early the next morning.
The sun rose in a cloudless sky, and the weather promised to be fine. It
would most likely be excessively hot by noon, but the morning was fresh
and balmy. White, in his character of a book-peddler, was to go into
Jenkintown on foot, so as to give the impression that he had walked out
from the city. Shanks was to drive him to within about two miles of
Jenkintown, where White was to get out and walk in, while Shanks would
drive back and wait for him at the Rising Sun, a tavern on the road. The
Vice-President and I drove over from Chestnut Hill, put up our team at
the Rising Sun, and took up our position as near the probable scene of
action as was prudent.
Early in the morning, just as day began to dawn, Rivers came in and
reported the condition of affairs. He had watched Cox's through the
night, but aside from high words there had been no demonstration. I sent
a note to Madam Imbert by him, with instructions to deliver it to her
as soon as she was up. I told her to be sure and do as she said she
would--get the money to-day at all hazards--by storm, if necessary, as I
did not like to trust Cox another day.
_CHAPTER XXIX._
At Jenkintown there was no lull in the fight. The battle was going on
gloriously. Breakfast at Cox's was a meagre meal, even the children were
neglected, as all the grown portion of the household were on the lookout
for the book-peddler.
"Sister Ann! Sister Ann! do you see any one coming?" was the cry.
Every once in a while one of them would go to the gate and look
anxiously down the road, in the direction of Philadelphia. Mrs. Maroney
was impatiently awaiting the arrival of Madam Imbert. She did not have
to wait long, as the Madam came down immediately after breakfast. Her
commanding figure and decided expression made her appear like a general
giving orders. She was perfectly calm, while all the rest were so
excited that they did not know what to do or say. She controlled the
position.
Mrs. Maroney had not slept any and was still unable to decide upon her
action. She strolled out with the Madam a short distance, thinking to
find relief in a quiet chat. She said she was filled with doubts and
fears. She was afraid to trust Josh., and he might go off at any moment
with the packages. Madam Imbert told her that there was only one thing
to be done, and that was to give up the packages to White as her husband
ordered.
"Are you sure," said she, "that the letter is in your husband's
handwriting?"
Mrs. Maroney looked at her in a startled manner and pulled the letter
from its hiding place in the bosom of her dress. She scanned it over
carefully and said:
"Yes, it is Nat.'s writing."
"Then there is nothing to do but to give it up. If my husband ordered me
I would gladly give up all I have in this world to please him."
They remained away from the house for some time, and when they returned
it was nearly noon. On looking down the street they discovered a
book-peddler slowly toiling along from the direction of Philadelphia and
evidently bending his steps towards Cox's. As Mrs. Maroney saw him
coming along sweltering in the sun and bending under the weight of his
load of books, she gave an involuntary start, and Madam Imbert, on whose
arm she leaned, felt that she was trembling with excitement. Cox stood
beside his wife in the door-way with his teeth clinched. His wife looked
unutterable things, but neither uttered a word.
Madam Imbert and Mrs. Maroney went into the yard and stood leaning over
the gate, watching the peddler, who was rapidly drawing near. He arrived
at the gate at the appointed time.
"Do you wish to buy any books?" asked he, at the same time handing Mrs.
Maroney a novel to look at, which he opened so as to disclose a note. He
spoke to her in a low tone and said:
"I am from prison," then glancing at the note, "I think that is for
you."
She took the novel, and, holding it open as if reading it, scanned the
contents of the note:
"MY DEAREST WIFE: This is the book-peddler. You will want to buy
books from him. Buy what you want. Give him the packages for me. He
is honest.
"All is well. NAT."
When she had read the note she stood looking at it, apparently unable to
speak. Madam Imbert looked at her, and as she began to fear that some of
the neighbors might notice the long stay of the peddler, said:
"Have you no message for the man? Time is precious!"
"Yes," she answered, looking up as from a trance.
Madam Imbert spoke in a low tone:
"Tell him to meet you down the lane."
"Yes," said she, "I will meet you down the lane at two o'clock and take
some books from you."
The peddler left a few novels and walked off. Mrs. Maroney and Madam
Imbert walked into the house. Now was the time for Madam Imbert to show
her power.
"Come, Mrs. Maroney, be quick! You must act at once! Get the money for
the book-peddler, quick!"
Mrs. Maroney seemed to act mechanically. Madam Imbert's strong will had
asserted a power over her that she could not resist. They went into the
cellar accompanied by Josh. and his wife.
"Dig the money up," commanded Mrs. Maroney still in the same mechanical
tone.
Josh. hesitated.
"Give me the spade!" said Madam Imbert. "Show me where the money is
secreted!"
Then, turning to Josh. and his wife, she said:
"_You are fools!_ You would not only ruin Mrs. Maroney, but yourselves.
Maroney knows best what is for his interest."
Mrs. Maroney pointed out the spot where the money was buried. The Madam
struck the spade into the ground.
"Stop, I'll do it!" said Josh.; "if you are bound to make a beggar of
yourself it is no fault of mine."
The money was about eighteen inches under the level of the cellar floor,
wrapped up in a piece of oil skin. It was soon unearthed and taken up
stairs. Mrs. Maroney said:
"I will go and get the buggy, or--no! Josh.! you go to Stemples's and
get his team; tell him it is for me."
Josh., without waiting to fill up the hole, started off. Madam Imbert
wrapped the money in two newspapers, and when Josh. came with the team,
which he soon did, put it into the front part of the buggy and covered
it with the apron, and, getting in with Mrs. Maroney, drove down the
lane.
White, when he received the message from Mrs. Maroney, returned to the
Rising Sun and reported to me. We (the Vice-President and I) secreted
ourselves under some magnolias growing close by the lane, and near where
the meeting would take place. At the appointed time the book-peddler was
seen by us coming up the lane, and at almost the same moment a buggy
came in sight going down. It was a moment of breathless interest to
both of us.
They met almost directly opposite to where we were concealed. Madam
Imbert said: "Let us have some books!" The peddler lifted his satchel
into the buggy; the Madam hurriedly emptied it of its contents, and
holding it open jammed the bundle of money into it and handed it back to
the peddler. Not a word more was said. Madam Imbert turned the team
around and started the horses on a fast trot toward Jenkintown, while
the peddler sweltered along under the broiling sun in the direction of
the tavern.
[Illustration: "_The peddler lifted his satchel into the buggy; the
Madam hurriedly emptied it of its contents, and holding it open, jammed
the bundle of money into it, and handed it back to the peddler._"--Page
268.]
Madam Imbert drove up to Stemples's, took the books, which were wrapped
in papers, to her room, and invited Mrs. Maroney up to take some brandy.
Mrs. Maroney was in a passive state, and did everything Madam Imbert
told her to do, as if powerless to resist. She remained for some time
with Madam Imbert, but finally said, in a pitiful tone: "Well, I believe
I am sick. This excitement has nearly killed me."
Madam Imbert advised her to lie down, and accompanied her to Cox's.
Josh. had gone out with Rivers, and Mrs. Cox refused to be seen. Madam
Imbert administered an opiate to Mrs. Maroney, and then returned to the
tavern. Toward evening she hired Stemples's team and drove into
Philadelphia.
The Vice-President and I remained concealed until the two women were
well out of sight, when we overtook White, who was slowly toiling down
the road. I received the satchel containing the money from him. From the
time he received the money until he handed it over to me, I had had
my eye on him--not exactly because I did not trust him, but I thought it
wrong to lead the poor fellow into temptation.
We went to the Rising Sun, where we took dinner, but did not mention the
subject which was uppermost in our minds. After dinner we drove into the
city and placed the money in the vaults of the Express Company.
The Vice-President at once telegraphed to the President of the company
to come from New York, as he did not wish to count the money until he
was present.
In the evening Madam Imbert arrived at the hotel, and finding I was in
consultation with the Vice-President, sent word in that she would like
to see me. When I came to her she eagerly asked: "Is the money all
right?"
"All right," I answered. When she heard this her strength seemed
suddenly to leave her, and she nearly fainted. The victory was complete,
but her faculties had been strained to the utmost in accomplishing it,
and she felt completely exhausted. She had the proud satisfaction of
knowing that to a woman belonged the honors of the day.
The President arrived on the third of August, and we met at the Lapier
House, where we counted the money. The package proved to contain
thirty-nine thousand five hundred and fifteen dollars--within four
hundred and eighty-five dollars of the amount last stolen.
The officers of the Adams Express Company were much pleased at my
success, and perfectly satisfied with everything. The money had been
recovered, and the case had come to a stand-still.
I held a consultation with the President and Vice-President, and asked
them if they had any further orders for me. The President said I had
better finish the operation, and not give up until Maroney had been
convicted and placed in the Penitentiary. I had done them invaluable
service so far, but it still remained to "cap the climax" by bringing
the guilty party to justice. This I assured him would soon be
accomplished, and I left to give the necessary orders to my detectives.
I told Madam Imbert to return to Jenkintown, and ordered Rivers and Miss
Johnson also to remain as before.
The Vice-President also told De Forest to remain in Jenkintown for the
present. Green was to continue in Philadelphia. Roch, who had been sent
back to Montgomery, was to await orders there, as was also Porter. White
was to attend to Maroney, while Bangs was to continue in Philadelphia in
charge of all.
_CHAPTER XXX._
On the fifteenth of August, White called on Maroney in Eldridge street
jail. He detailed what had transpired at Jenkintown, and told Maroney
that he had the money hid in a safe place in Philadelphia. This was
undoubtedly the truth, as the money was safe in the vaults of the Adams
Express. I deemed it best to curtail expenses as soon as possible, and
instructed White to impress upon Maroney that Jenkintown was not a safe
place for his wife, and that she had better leave there. He was to
endeavor to get Maroney to send her to the west, and to Chicago, if
possible. He told Maroney that he was afraid some of the express men
were watching his wife, and if he did not look out she might be induced
to "blow" on him and tell all. He dwelt on his repugnance to being mixed
up with women with such effect that Maroney was convinced that she had
better go to some other part of the country, and so wrote to her at
once. He told her she had better go west. She was so near the
headquarters of the company that he feared they might find her out, and
make trouble for her. He hinted that he was not entirely satisfied with
De Forest, and wished her to go as soon as possible. White said he was
having the key to the pouch made, and would be able to show it to him in
a day or two. He did not wish any one in the jail to see him with the
key, and wished Maroney to be careful that no prisoners were in their
neighborhood when he disclosed it. When he did bring the key Maroney
examined it closely and expressed himself well pleased with it.
The day set for the trial of the suit in New York was near at hand, and
Maroney would have to prove that he had not taken the fifty thousand
dollars. He did not much care how the suit went, as he was confident he
would be acquitted at his criminal trial in Montgomery. When the suit
came off, we managed to get a judgment against him for the fifty
thousand dollars in such a manner that it was not necessary to let him
know that the money had been recovered, or that White was working
against him. He was of course the principal witness in his own behalf,
and if wholesale perjury could have saved him he would have been
acquitted beyond a doubt.
The day after the trial White called on him and he laughed heartily at
the judgment which had been obtained against him.
"Wait till I get to Montgomery," he said, "and then they will find that
their judgment does not amount to shucks. White, I wish you would settle
up my matters as soon as possible."
"I am going to Charleston this evening to see if I can't pass some of
the money, and must hurry off and pack my satchel, as the train leaves
at four. Good-by for a time; I will write and let you know how I
succeed," said White, as he prepared to leave.
"I know you will succeed," remarked Maroney, and White hurriedly walked
out of jail. This was all done to blind Maroney as to White's real
character. There was no necessity of White's leaving the city to
accomplish his purpose. All he had to do was to write letters and send
them to the agents of the Adams Express at the different points where
Maroney supposed him to be, and they would mail them to Maroney. He
pretended that he was having great trouble in trying to exchange the
money, and wrote that he would be in New York in a few days. At the end
of a week he walked down to the jail. He met Maroney with a troubled
look on his face, and said that he had been frightened away from
Charleston after he had exchanged about five hundred dollars. He was
doing very well when he found the detectives were close after him, and
he had to leave without his carpet bag.
"It is up-hill work, Maroney, trying to exchange this money. The Adams
Express are keeping a sharp lookout every where, and I have had a number
of detectives on my track. I have no money of my own and need all of
yours. So far I have exchanged only enough to get me to Montgomery, and
to pay the girl for stuffing the Express money into Chase's pocket."
Maroney gave White what money he had, and told him to go on and fix
Chase as soon as possible. Mrs. Maroney had all the money, so that we
had to foot all White's bills. The company had already been at heavy
expense, and I was desirous of stopping all unavoidable expenditures.
White remained in Philadelphia or New York, as the case might be,
performing on paper a journey through the South. Maroney received
letters from him from Augusta, Ga., New Orleans, Mobile and Montgomery.
He seemed to meet with many adventures and reverses, but was slowly and
surely accomplishing his mission. He had the girl in Montgomery, and she
was rapidly winning her way to the innermost recesses of Chase's heart.
In a couple of days came another letter. Chase was captivated, and had
so far worked on the confiding, innocent nature of the girl as to
prevail on her to consent to let him into her room that night. She had
the money to put into Chase's pocket, and all was going well. Maroney
could not sleep, so anxiously did he look forward for the coming of the
next letter; he paced his cell all night. What would have been his
feelings if he could have looked through about a mile of brick and
mortar to where White was snoring in bed?
The next day no letter came. He grew almost frantic, and was so
irritable and excited that his fellow prisoners wondered what had come
over him. The following day the anxiously expected letter arrived. He
hastily broke it open and found that the faithful White had been true to
his trust. Chase had gone into the girl's room, McGibony had seized him
as he came out, a search was instituted and the stolen money and a pouch
key had been discovered in his pocket.
"Hurrah!" said Maroney, "I am all right now! Boys, here is five dollars,
the last cent I have! We will make a jolly day of it."
We will now return to our friends in Jenkintown. It took some time for
Maroney to impress upon his wife the necessity of her going West. She
had little money, for though she had pocketed the proceeds of the sale
of her husband's livery stable, and other effects, in Montgomery, her
expenses had been heavy, and the money had dwindled away until she was
nearly penniless.
One day Mrs. Maroney said to Madam Imbert: "Wouldn't you like to go out
west somewhere and settle down for a while?"
"It makes no difference to me where I go," she replied, "I have to see
the gentleman who exchanges my money for me, once in a while; but no
matter where I go, he is sure to come to me when I send for him. Why
would it not be a good plan to go to some place in the South? Swansboro,
N. C., is a good place."
"Yes," remarked Mrs. Maroney, "but it is so dull!"
"What do you say to Jackson, Mississippi? It is a beautiful place."
"No, we don't want to go South now, it is altogether too warm. Were you
ever in Chicago, Madam Imbert?"
"No; but it is a good place to summer in, I understand."
"Well, let's go there; will you?"
"Yes, certainly, if you wish," said Madam Imbert; and they at once began
to arrange for their departure. It was decided that Madam Imbert should
go ahead to Chicago, and see if she could rent a furnished house for
them. She started off, and, as a matter of course, easily accomplished
her purpose.
I had a house in Chicago, where I lodged my female detectives, and as I
had only two in the city at the time, I easily found them a
boarding-house, and turned the house over to Madam Imbert. The servants
were well trained, and understood their business thoroughly. Everything
being arranged, Madam Imbert wrote to Mrs. Maroney and Miss Johnson,
telling them to come on. Two weeks after, Mrs. Maroney, Miss Johnson,
and Flora arrived in Chicago, and took up their quarters with Madam
Imbert.
It was necessary to have a young man to run their errands, and Shanks
was promptly furnished them. White did not need his services any longer,
as he was able to run his own errands.
Business was crowding fast, and the time set for Maroney's trial at
Montgomery was drawing near. The Governor of Alabama requested the
Governor of New York to deliver Maroney for trial in Montgomery, which
request was immediately acceded to.
I sent Maroney South in charge of an officer from Philadelphia, of
course "shadowed" by my own men.
This was the last time that Roch was on duty in this case. He had done
good service already in its early stages, and might be of service again.
The Vice-President accompanied the parties.
When they arrived in Montgomery, Maroney was not met and escorted to the
Exchange by a bevy of admiring friends. On the contrary, he was led to
jail. Hope never forsook him. He received letters from White, who said
all was going well, and he expected to get the funds exchanged soon.
Maroney wrote in reply that he hoped he would hurry up, as he wished to
give a part of the money to his lawyer in New York. The lawyer was
evidently expecting to reap a rich harvest at the company's expense.
Little more need be said.
The Circuit Court was in session, His Honor John Gill Shorter,
presiding, and Maroney would soon be tried before him. He was confident
that he would be acquitted and had all his plans made as to what he
would do when he was liberated. Not the shadow of a doubt had crossed
his mind as to the fealty of White.
He heard that he was in Montgomery and received a note from him, saying
that all was well; that the Adams Express had compelled him to come--an
unwilling witness--to see if they could not force the secret from him,
but they would find that they had "collared" the wrong man this time.
Maroney was braced up by this note. He knew that White would not give
up; he felt confident of that!
It was the morning of the trial, and before nightfall he would be a free
man. It was a lovely day and the court-room was packed with spectators,
among whom were many of Maroney's former friends.
He walked proudly into the court-room, between two deputies, with an air
that plainly said, "I am bound to win!"
His friends clustered around him and vied with each other as to who
could show him the most attention. Foremost among them was Porter, to
whom he gave an extra shake of the hand. I will not dwell upon the
trial. The witnesses for the prosecution were called one by one. They
were the employés of the company who were in any way connected with the
shipment or the discovery of the loss of the money, which ought to have
been sent to Atlanta, when, in reality, it had gone down the Alabama in
Maroney's old trunk.
The witnesses proved that the money had disappeared in some mysterious
way; but they did not in the slightest degree fasten the guilt upon
Maroney. His spirits rose as the trial progressed, and his counsel
could not but smile as he heard the weak testimony he had to break down.
He had expected a toughly contested case, but the prosecutors had
presented no case at all.