"CHIP" BINGHAM.
George Bingham, or as he was familiarly called, "Chip" Bingham, was the
youngest operative in Mr. Pinkerton's service. His talents, in the
detective line, ranged considerably higher than did the general run of
his associates. Possessing an analytical mind, he could take the
effect, and, by logical conclusions, retrace its path to the
fundamental cause, and following this principle, he had made many
valuable discoveries in mystery-shrouded cases, and had, many times,
picked the end of a clew from a seemingly hopeless snarl, and raveled
the entire mesh of circumstantial evidence, and made from it a strong
cord of substantiated facts. Mr. Pinkerton had early recognized this
talent, and having, besides, a peculiar attachment to the handsome
young fellow, he frequently placed delicate and intricate cases into
his hands, always with good results. It was for Chip, then, he sent,
when he had finished his examination of the valuable package.
Mr. Damsel, his mind somewhat freed from the trouble and worry it had
carried since the robbery, had left Mr. Pinkerton alone and returned to
his office.
Chip, on receipt of his superior's message, immediately repaired to
Room 84. His downcast countenance and disappointed air told of
fruitless endeavors to catch even the slightest real clew. He said
nothing as he entered the room, but with a gesture of hopeless failure
he sank into a chair and awaited his chief's pleasure.
"Chip, I've got a starter."
With an indulgent smile Chip nodded his head, but failed to exhibit any
extraordinary interest.
Mr. Pinkerton's eyes twinkled. He understood the situation, but time
was valuable and he could not waste any in humorous by-play. So without
further parleying he handed Chip the tell-tale letter.
The young detective, almost from the first word, put the letter down as
a practical joke, perpetrated on the newspaper, but as the missive
progressed he became interested, and when he had reached that portion
which told of the package every fiber of his detective instinct was
alive, and Mr. Pinkerton had no need of pointing to the precious parcel
as corroborative evidence that the letter was genuine.
In an instant Chip was examining the contents. Every portion of the
revolver, billy and letterheads was searched with deepest scrutiny. The
printed sheet of ballad music was picked up, the verses read and the
sheet turned.
An exclamation burst from his lips, as his eye caught the words,
written in lead pencil, "----Chestnut Street," and placing it beside
the letter, he saw it was written by the same hand. "The devil! Here is
a starter!"
His face glowed with animation, his eyes had the alert look of a hound
on a hot scent, and carefully noting the number in his memorandum book,
without waiting instructions from Mr. Pinkerton, he picked up his hat
and hurriedly left the room.
Mr. Pinkerton, in full sympathy with his subordinate, lit a cigar, and
settled back for a comfortable smoke until Chip made his report.
Chip, regaining the street, engaged a hack standing near the hotel, and
stopping it a short distance from the number he wanted on Chestnut
street, walked the remaining distance to the house.
A sign "Board by the week or day," and another one, "Furnished rooms to
let," showed it to be an ordinary boarding-house. Chip had fully
decided within himself, during the ride, that the men who had left the
parcel had also left St. Louis. While it was not so much an
improbability that the men would still be in the city, it was far more
probable that they would put some distance between themselves and the
scene of their exploit. For this reason, Chip decided that a plain
course would result in no unfortunate mishap or premature flushing of
the game.
Ascending the steps, he rang the bell.
The landlady of the house herself opened the door.
Before Chip could speak, she said:
"You're a detective, aren't you?"
"Yes," said Chip, somewhat surprised, and regretting immediately that
he had not made his entrance in a more detective-like manner.
"I've been expecting some of you. You want to know about those two men
that stopped with me a short time before the 'Frisco express robbery?"
Seeing at once that he was conversing with a more than ordinary shrewd
individual, Chip replied, "That's just what I'm here for. But why do
you ask that question?"
"Well, I suspicioned something was wrong with them two men. They came
here on the fifteenth of October, and paid me a week's board in
advance. They kept their room almost all the time, and when I went in
to clean it, I saw a lot of railroad time-tables and maps scattered
around. One of them was always in the room. It was never left alone. A
week before the robbery, the smaller man left, he said for Kansas City,
and the larger man told me if a letter came to the house, directed to
Williams, that is for him. Well, on the Friday before the robbery, such
a letter did come, and the big man, after reading it, said he had to go
to Kansas City at once, but he didn't leave the house until Monday, and
the next day the robbery occurred."
"Can you give me a description of the men?"
The landlady thereupon gave a full description of the larger man, which
Chip carefully inserted in his note book, and recognized as the same
given by Fotheringham of his assailant on that memorable night. But her
description of the smaller of the two was somewhat vague, as she said
he was only in the house a short time, and she saw very little of him.
"May I go up to the room?"
"Yes; come this way."
Entering the room, the first thing which met the detective's eye was a
bottle containing some sort of liniment, having on it a label of a
neighboring druggist, In a closet a pair of drawers were found, and
with the dark brown stain below the knee was almost identical to that
which Chip had found on the railroad track, and which the robber had
thrown from the express car. Not satisfied with this, Chip ripped up
the carpet, and as a reward for his labor found an express tag, or
rather a portion of one, for the tag was torn in two pieces. On the tag
Chip read the portion of an address, "----ority," and below,
"----worth, Kansas." Further questioning of the garrulous landlady
gained a description of the valise which the larger man carried away
with him. It tallied with the description given by Fotheringham of the
valise into which Jim Cummings had put the stolen money.
Gathering his trophies together, Chip bid his talkative lady friend
good-day, and immediately bent his steps toward the drug store, from
which had come the bottle of liniment.
No, the druggist could not recollect what particular person had bought
that bottle, but if the young man would call on Doctor B----, he could
probably ascertain the fact from him, as the liniment was put up from
the Doctor's prescription. Chip, in a short time, was ushered into the
Doctor's presence.
Yes, the Doctor not only recollected the man, but gave a very close
description of him. The man had come to him, suffering from a bad
bruise or cut on the leg below the knee. Nothing serious, but so
painful that it caused him to limp. He had made out the prescription of
the unguent which the bottle had contained, and the man had paid for
it. But he gave no name, nor in what manner he had received the injury.
Chip, satisfied with his work, left the physician, and whistling for
his jehu, drove back to the hotel.
That the large man who had boarded with the landlady at ---- Chestnut
street, and had bought and used the ointment, was identical with Jim
Cummings, the express robber, Chip had not the shadow of a doubt. The
smaller man was, of course, his accomplice. He had seen where the men
had secreted themselves a week before the robbery, he vas even pretty
certain of their movements during that time, but the question was where
had they gone AFTER the deed was committed. Who and where was the
accomplice? What other men had aided and abetted them in the scheme?
With his mind full of these perplexing queries, he sought Mr.
Pinkerton's room, and laid before him the result of his search.
Mr. Pinkerton listened attentively and picking up the torn express tag,
examined it carefully.
It was a portion of an ordinary tag, such as is used by the Adams
Express Company.
It had been torn about the middle. The strings were still on it. From
its appearance it had been addressed, and the person, not satisfied
with his work, had torn it in two and thrown it on the floor, from
which it had probably been swept in a corner, and eventually got under
the edge of the carpet, where Chip had found it. It read.
ority
worth Kansas
[Illustration: a drawing of a torn ticket.]
On the reverse side in faint penciled characters were the words: "it to
Cook," From the blurred appearance of the words it was evident that a
rubber had been used to erase them. These words had escaped Chip's
notice, but as soon as Mr. Pinkerton saw them, he said:
"I see it all, Chip. I see it all. A message was written on the tag,
probably giving some instructions, such as 'Send it to Cook,' or 'Give
it to Cook,' and the person sending it changing his mind about writing
his instructions so openly tried to erase the words with a rubber, but
failing to do it tore the tag up and addressed another one.
"The package to which this was to have been tied was sent to some man
whose name ends in 'ority and who was in Leavenworth, Kansas. We can
find that out to-morrow, Chip, so turn in and get some sleep."
The next morning the books of the company were overhauled, and after a
long, patient and careful search it was found that on October 23d, two
days before the robbery, a valise had been expressed to a Daniel
Moriarity, Leavenworth, Kansas, charges prepaid, by a man named John
Williams.
That evening Chip left St. Louis for Leavenworth and Mr. Pinkerton
returned to Chicago.