THE DETECTIVE AND THE MESSENGER.
After Mr. Damsel had left the hotel, Mr. Pinkerton sat in deep thought.
He had carefully re-read Fotheringham's statement, but could find
nothing that could be put out as a tracer; no little straw to tell
which way the wind was blowing.
"Cummings, Cummings, Jim Cummings. By George, that can't be the Jim
Cummings that used to flock with the Jesse James gang. That Cummings
was a gray-haired man, while this Cummings is young, about 26 years
old. Besides he is a much larger than Jesse James' Jim Cummings. That
name is evidently assumed.
"This statement says he was dressed in a good suit of clothes, and wore
a very flashy cravat. Furthermore, he bragged a good deal about what he
would do with the money. Also that he would write a letter to the St.
Louis Globe-Democrat exonerating the messenger. Well, a man who will
brag like that, and wears flashy articles of neck-wear, is just the man
that will talk too much, or make some bad break. If he writes that
letter, he's a goner. There will be something in it that will give me a
hold. The paper, the ink, the hand-writing, the place and time it was
mailed--something that will give him away."
"I must see this messenger, and I must see him here; alone. He may be
able to give me a little glimmer of light."
To think with "Billy" Pinkerton was to act.
He pressed the annunciator button, and sitting down, wrote a short note
to Mr. Damsel, requesting him to bring Fotheringham with him to his
room.
The bell-boy who answered the call bore the note away with him, and in
a short time, Mr. Pinkerton, looking out of his window, saw Mr. Damsel
in his buggy drive up to the hotel accompanied by a young man, whom Mr.
Pinkerton recognized from the description given him, as the unfortunate
Fotheringham, who had evidently, as yet, not been arrested.
It took but a few moments for Mr. Damsel to reach Room 84, and after
introducing Fotheringham to the detective, left him there.
Fotheringham wore a worried and hunted look. The black rings under his
eyes told of loss of sleep, and his whole demeanor was that of a
discouraged person. Still he bore the keen scrutiny of the detective
without flinching, and looking him squarely in the eye, said:
"Mr. Pinkerton, don't ask me to repeat my story again. I have told it
time after time. I have been cross-questioned, and turned and twisted
until I almost believe I committed the robbery myself, tied my own
hands and feet, put the gag in my own mouth, and hid the money some
place."
Mr. Pinkerton did not answer him, but gazing at him with those sharp,
far-seeing eyes, which had ferreted out so many crimes, and had made so
many criminals tremble, took in every detail of Fotheringham's
features, as if reading his very soul. Fotheringham leaned back, closed
his eyes wearily, as if it were a matter of the smallest consequence
what might occur, and remained in that position until Mr. Pinkerton
spoke.
"Mr. Fotheringham, I don't believe you had anything to do with the
robbery, except being robbed."
"Thank God for those words, Mr. Pinkerton," exclaimed the messenger in
broken tones, the tears welling to his eyes. "That's the first bit of
comfort I've had since the dastardly villain first knocked me down."
"Can you not give me some peculiarity which you noticed about this
Cummings? How did he talk?"
"Slowly, with a very pleasant voice."
"Did he have any marks about him--any scars?"
Fotheringham sat in deep thought for a while.
"He had a triangular gold filling on one of his front teeth, and he had
a way of hanging his head a little to one side, as if he were deaf, but
I did not see any scars, excepting a bit of court-plaster on one of the
fingers of his right hand."
"Was he disguised at all?"
"Not a bit, at least I could see no disguise on him."
"How did he walk?"
"Very erect, and, yes, I noticed he limped a little, as if he had a
sore foot."
"I see by this report," taking up the papers Mr. Damsel had left, "that
you have given a very close and full description of his appearance, but
that amounts to little. Disguises are easy, and the mere changing of
clothing will effect a great difference."
"I am positive, from his features, that he was a hard drinker. He had
been drinking before he came to the car, as I smelled it on his breath."
"Well, Mr. Fotheringham, I will not detain you any longer. If you are
innocent, you know you have nothing to fear."
"Except the disgrace of being arrested."
"Possibly," said Mr. Pinkerton, shortly, and bowing his visitor out, he
pondered long and deeply over the case; but he felt he was groping in
the dark, for the robber had apparently left no trace behind him. He
had appeared on the scene, done his work, and the dark shadows of the
night had swallowed him up, and Mr. Pinkerton, for the time, was
completely baffled.
"If he would only write that letter," he muttered, "and I believe he
will--"
A tap at the door followed these words, and two men entered--both
Pinkerton detectives.
One of them carried a bundle in his arms.
As Mr. Pinkerton caught sight of it, his face lightened up.
"Ah! You did get it?"
"Yes; found them in a ditch the other side of Kirkwood."
Mr. Pinkerton laughed, and taking the bundle, said:
"Mr. Damsel said they could not be found; but I knew you, Chip. It was
a good move on your part to go after these clothes without waiting for
orders. You are starting in well, my boy, and if you have the making of
a detective in you, this case will bring it out."
Chip blushed. Such words of praise from his superior were worth working
for. The youngest man on the force, he had his spurs to win, and the
approbation of his chief was reward enough.
The bundle was untied, and disclosed a shirt, a pair of drawers, socks
and a dirty handkerchief. As the clothing fell on the floor, the odor
of some sort of liniment filled the room, and on the leg of the
drawers, below the knee, a stain was seen. Examining it more closely, a
little clotted blood was seen. The stain extended half way around the
leg, and showed that the cut or bruise was quite an extensive one.
"No wonder he limped," said Mr. Pinkerton, as he dropped the drawers
and picked up the handkerchief.
The handkerchief, a common linen one, had evidently been used as a
bandage, for it was stained with the liniment, and covered with blood
clots. In one corner had been written a name, but the only letters now
readable were "W--r--k."
This was placed on the table and the shirt carefully examined.
Nothing, not even the maker's name, could be seen. It was a cheap
shirt, such as could be bought at any store which labels everything
belonging to a man as "Gents' Furnishing." The socks were common, and
like thousands of similar socks.
"Not much of a find, Chip--the letters on the handkerchief can be found
in a hundred different names--a sore knee is covered by a pair of
trousers, and one out of every ten men you meet, limps."
The other detective, who had all this time been silent, now laid some
Adams Express letter-heads on the table. On these were written "J. B.
Barrett," in all forms of chirography--several sheets were covered with
the name.
"Where did you get these?"
"Out of Fotheringham's trunk, in his room."
"By Jove, what a consummate actor that man is. Do you know, boys, up to
this minute, I firmly believed that messenger was innocent--I have been
sold like an ordinary fool," and Mr. Pinkerton looked at the tell-tale
papers admiringly, for, although he felt a trifle chagrined at being
taken in so nicely, he could not but pay tribute to the man who did it,
for the man that could get the better of "Billy" Pinkerton, must be one
of extraordinary ability.
"If you please," said Chip, "I do not see that the mere finding of this
paper in Fotheringham's trunk should fasten suspicion on him. If he was
shrewd enough to capture the money, he would certainly not leave such
damaging evidence as this paper would be. It seems to me that it would
be a very plausible theory to advance, that the real robbers placed
this in his trunk to direct suspicion against him. In fact, it was the
first thing to be seen when the lid was lifted, for I was with Barney
when he searched the room."
Barney said nothing to his companion's remarks, but nodded his head to
show that he acquiesced.
Mr. Pinkerton listened carefully, and merely saying, "we'll look at
this later," gave a very careful and complete description of Cummings,
which he directed Chip and Barney to take to the St. Louis branch of
this firm, and from there send it through all the divisions and
sub-divisions of this vast detective cob-web.
After issuing further and more orders relating to the case in hand, he
put on his hat, and descended to the hotel office, followed by his two
subordinates.
After the exciting episode in the express car had been brought to a
close by Jim Cummings leaping from the car, the train moved on, and
left him alone, the possessor of nearly $100,000. The game had been a
desperate one, and well played, and nervy and cool as he was, the
desperado was forced to seat himself on a pile of railroad ties, until
he could regain possession of himself, for he trembled in every limb,
and shook as with a chill. He pulled himself together, however, and
picking up his valise, with its valuable contents, turned toward the
river.
He stepped from tie to tie, feeling his way in the darkness, every
sense on the alert, and straining his eyes to catch a glimpse of some
landmark. He had walked nearly a mile when, from behind a pile of brush
heaped up near the track, a man stepped forth. The double click of a
revolver was heard, and in an imperative tone, the unknown man called
out:
"Halt! Put your hands above your head. I've got the drop on you!"
Startled as he was by the sudden appearance of the man, and hardly
recovered from his hard fight with the messenger, Cummings was too
brave and too daring to yield so tamely. Dropping his valise, he sprang
upon the audacious stranger so suddenly that he was taken completely by
surprise. The sharp report of the revolver rang out upon the quiet
night, and the two men, Cummings uppermost, fell upon the grading of
the road. The men were very evenly matched, and the fortunes of war
wavered from one to the other. The hoarse breathing, the muttered
curses, and savage blows told that a desperate conflict was taking
place. Clasped in each other's embrace, the men lay, side by side,
neither able to gain the mastery. Far around the curve the rumbling of
an approaching freight train was heard. Nearer and nearer it came, and
still the men fought on. With a grip of iron Cummings held the
stranger's throat to the rail, and with arms of steel clasped around
Cummings, his assailant pressed him to the ground.
It was an even thing, a fair field and no favor, when the sudden flash
of the headlight of the approaching engine, as it shot around the
curve, caused both men to lose their hold and spring from the track.
The strong, clear light flooded both with its brilliancy, and in that
instant mutual recognition took place.
"Wittrock!"
"Moriarity!"
The train swept by, and the darkness again settled around the late
combatants.
Cummings was the first to speak.
"How the devil did you get here, Dan?"
"Just what I was going to ask you, Fred."
"Then you didn't get my letter?"
"What letter."
"I wrote you from Chicago, to be on hand at the 'plant' to-night."
"Did you send it to Leavenworth?"
"Yes."
"I am on my way there now. Got busted in St. Louis, couldn't make a
raise, and I commenced to count ties for Leavenworth."
"Yes, then you took me for some jay, and tried to hold me up. It's
lucky I met you, I need you."
"Any money in it?"
"Slathers of it."
"What's your lay?"
Cummings hesitated a minute before replying, and then said:
"Dan! you went back on me once, I don't know that I can trust you, you
are too--"
"Trust me! You give Dan Moriarity a chance to cover some tin, and he's
yours, body and soul."
"What's your price to help me, and keep your mouth shut?"
"$2,000."
"It's a go," and Cummings held out his hand.
The compact was thus sealed, and lighting a match, Cummings commenced
to look for his valise.
It had, fortunately, fallen outside the rails, and picking it up,
Cummings led the way, followed by the somewhat surprised and still more
curious Moriarity.
At this point on the Missouri river, the bluffs rise abruptly from the
banks. The railroad, winding around the curves, was literally hewn from
the solid rock. Deep gullies and ravines, starting from the water,
Intersected all portions of the country, and the thick underbrush made
this place a safe and secure hiding-place for fugitives from justice,
river pirates and moonshiners.
Cummings, at a point where one of these gullies branched off from the
railroad, turned into it, and with confident steps, followed closely by
Moriarity, scaled the rocky precipice. Half way up the toilsome ascent,
he halted, and placing his fingers in his mouth, gave three shrill
whistles. Two short, and one long drawn sounds.
It was immediately answered; and in an instant, a flaming torch sprang
into view, and almost as quickly was extinguished.
A short climb, and turning sharply to the right, Cummings again
stopped. The signal, repeated softly, was answered by a voice asking:
"Who comes there?"
To which Cummings replied:
"It is I, be not afraid," at the same time poking Moriarity in the
ribs, and chuckling:
"I haven't forgotten my Bible yet, eh, Dan?"
A blanket was lifted to one side, and disclosed to view the entrance to
a natural cave, into the wall of which was stuck a naming, pitch-pine
knot. Entering, the blanket was dropped, and preceded by a man, whose
features the fitful glare of the torch failed to reveal, the two
adventurers were ushered into the main portion of the cavern.
In one corner the copper kettle and coiled worm of a whisky still told
it was the abode of an illicit distiller, or a "moonshiner."
A large fire cast a ruddy glow over the cave, and blankets and cooking
utensils were scattered about. As the guide stepped into the light, he
turned around, his eyes first falling on the well-stuffed valise and
then upon Cummings' face, which wore such an expression of success and
satisfaction that he exclaimed, as he held out his hand:
"By the ghost of Jesse James, you did it, old man."
"This looks like it, don't it?" said the successful express-car robber,
holding his valise to the light. "Don't you know this man, Haight?"
"Damme, if it isn't Dan Moriarity."
"The same old penny--Haight," and Moriarity clasped his hand.
Haight, as host, did the honors. An empty flour barrel, covered by a
square board, made an acceptable table. Small whisky barrels did duty
as chairs, and a substantial repast of boiled fish, partridges and gray
squirrels, supplemented with steaming glasses of hot toddy, satisfied
the inner man, and, for a time, caused them to forget the exciting
train of events through which they had just passed.
After their hunger had been appeased pipes were lit, and the fragrant
glass of spirits, filled to the brim, were placed conveniently and
seductively near at hand.
Cummings then related, in detail, his night's exploit and ended by
opening the valise and taking out the packages of currency which it
contained. It was a strange picture to gaze upon. The fire-lit cave,
shrouded outside with mystery and darkness, but its heart alive with
light and warmth; the rude appliances and paraphernalia for distilling
the contraband "mountain dew"; the floor strewn with blankets,
cooking-tins, a rifle or two, and provisions, while, bathed in the warm
glow of the cheerful fire, secure from pursuit and comfortably housed
from the weather, the three men, with greedy eyes, drank in the
enchanting vision of luxurious wealth, which lay, bound in its neat
wrappers, upon the floor of the cave.
Not one of these men could be classed with professional criminals,
Moriarity, perhaps, had several times done some "fine work," but was
unknown in the strata of crime, and was never seen in the society of
"experts."
His attack upon Cummings could be called his debut, just as Cummings'
late success could be looked on as his first definite step within the
portals of outlawry and crime. Haight, as an accessory to the robbery,
had hardly taken his first plunge. Some time before this these same
men, with others, had planned an extensive robbery on the same line,
but Moriarity weakened at the last moment and the whole thing fell
through. It was this incident which caused Cummings to doubt his
trustworthiness. Still Moriarity had a certain amount of bull courage,
of which Cummings was aware, and if his palm was but crossed by the
almighty dollar he would be a valuable ally. For this reason Cummings
had taken him again into his confidence.
For some moments the three men sat silently puffing their pipes and
picturing the delight of spending their ill-gotten booty, when
Cummings, rising from his seat, placed the money on the table and cut
the strings which bound it together.
A hasty count revealed $53,000 in currency and about $40,000 in bonds,
mortgage deeds, and other unconvertible valuables.
He had evidently fully considered his plans, and without any previous
beating around the bush, proceeded to execute them.
Opening a package of smaller bills he divided it into three parts,
giving Haight and Moriarity each a share. The remainder of the plunder
he again divided into three portions, and taking the larger one for
himself, proceeded to wrap it and tie it securely; his companions,
taking their cue from him, doing likewise.
"Boys," he then said, "as soon as the robbery is discovered the company
will turn hell itself upside down to find it. Pinkerton will be on our
trail in forty-eight hours. The first thing they will do will be to
suspect the messenger. He will be arrested, and while they are
monkeying with him we must get out of the way. I told the poor devil I
would write a letter to some paper, I think I said the Globe-Democrat,
which would clear him, but we must make ourselves safe first.
"Dan, you must get to Leavenworth, find Cook, and have him plant what
you have. Haight will go to Chicago and know what to do, while
I--well--I am going south for my health."
Stopping abruptly he drew his revolver, and stepping up to Moriarity,
placed the cold muzzle to his temple. His eyes, cold as steel and sharp
as an arrow, were fastened upon Dan's very heart, and speaking with
terrible earnestness, he said:
"Dan Moriarity, if ever you break faith with me, I'll kill you like a
cur, so help me God!"
Moriarity stood the ordeal without flinching, and holding his right
hand above his head, took a solemn oath never to betray, by word or
deed, the trust which had been placed in him.
Without another word each man carefully placed his particular charge
securely about his person. Every scrap of paper was gathered up, and,
after extinguishing the fire, the three men left the cave, and in the
dawn of the early morning descended to the railroad track.
Hands were shaken, the last words of advice given, and Cummings plunged
into the labyrinth of gullies and underbrush, leaving his companions
each to pursue his own way, Moriarity going west, while Haight, going
east, sprang the fence, and entering a thick patch of bushes, brought
out a horse, saddled and bridled. Mounting this he struck into a quick
canter across the country toward St. Louis.