The Investigation Begun--John Manning's Visit to Geneva--Eugene
Pearson's Story--The Detective's Incredulity--A Miraculous Deliverance
With a Ten-Cent Coin.
On the evening of the same day on which this daring robbery occurred,
and as I was preparing to leave my agency for the day, a telegram was
handed to me by the superintendent of my Chicago office, Mr. Frank
Warner. The message read as follows:
"GENEVA, August --, 18--.
"Bank robbed to-day. Twenty thousand
dollars taken. Please send or come at once.
"(Signed,) HENRY SILBY, President."
This was all. There was no detail of particulars, no statement of the
means employed, only a simple, concise and urgent appeal for my
services. As for myself, realizing the importance of promptness and
despatch in affairs of this nature, and fully appreciating the anxiety
of the bank officials, I resolved to answer their call as speedily as
possible. But few words of consultation were required for the subject,
and in a short time I had selected the man for the preliminary
investigation, and requested his presence in my office. John Manning was
the operative chosen for this task, an intelligent, shrewd and trusty
young man of about thirty years of age, who had been in my employ for a
long time. Well educated, of good address, and with a quiet, gentlemanly
air about him that induced a favorable opinion at a glance. Frequently,
prior to this, occasions had presented themselves for testing his
abilities, and I had always found him equal to any emergency. Sagacious
and skillful as I knew him to be, I felt that I could implicitly rely
upon him to glean all the information that was required in order to
enable me to devise an intelligent plan of detection, and which would,
as I hoped, lead to eventual success.
Giving John Manning full instructions as to his mode of proceeding, and
cautioning him to be particular and thorough in all his inquiries, I
directed him to proceed as soon as possible to the scene of the robbery,
and enter at once upon the performance of his duties.
In a very short time Manning had made his preparations, and at eight
o'clock that evening he was at the depot awaiting the departure of the
train that was to bear him to his new field of operation.
After a journey of several hours, in which the detective endeavored to
snatch as much comfort as possible, the train drew up at the neat little
station at Geneva, and Manning was upon the ground.
It was two o'clock in the morning when he arrived, consequently there
were but few people stirring, and the station was almost entirely
deserted. Two or three passengers who were awaiting the train, the
persons connected with the railroad, and the runners of the two hotels
(Geneva boasted of two of these very necessary establishments), were
the only persons who greeted him upon his arrival.
Having never been to Geneva before, and being entirely ignorant of the
accommodations afforded by either of these houses of entertainment,
Manning, at a hazard, selected the "Geneva Hotel" as his place of abode.
Consigning his valise to the care of the waiting porter, he was soon on
his way to that hostelrie, and serenely journeyed along through the
darkness, all unconscious of the reception that awaited him. On arriving
at their destination, he perceived through the glimmering light that
hung over the doorway, that the "Geneva Hotel" was an old, rambling
frame structure, which stood in the midst of an overgrowth of bushes and
shrubbery. So dense was the foliage that the detective imagined the air
of the place was damp and unwholesome in consequence. Certain it was, as
he discovered afterward, the air and sunshine had a desperate struggle
almost daily to obtain an entrance into the building, and after a few
hours engaged in the vain attempt, old Sol would vent his baffled rage
upon the worm-eaten old roof, to the decided discomfort of the lodgers
in the attic story.
Ceremony was an unheard-of quality at the "Geneva House," and the
railway porter performed the multifarious duties of night clerk, porter,
hall boy and hostler. As they entered the hotel, the porter lighted a
small lamp with the aid of a stable lantern, and without further parley
led the detective up two flights of stairs which cracked and groaned
under their feet, as if complaining of their weight, and threatening to
precipitate them to the regions below. Opening the door of a little box
of a room, out of which the hot air came rushing like a blast from a
furnace fire, the porter placed the lamp upon a dilapidated wash-stand
and the valise upon the floor, and without uttering a word, took himself
off.
With all its progressiveness, it was evident that Geneva was far behind
the age in regard to her hotel accommodations; at least so thought
Manning as he gazed disconsolately around upon his surroundings. The
room was small, close and hot, while the furniture exceeded his powers
of description. The unpainted wash-stand seemed to poise itself uneasily
upon its three remaining legs--the mirror had evidently been the resort
of an army of self-admiring flies, who had left their marks upon its
leaden surface until reflection was impossible--two hard and
uncomfortable-looking chairs--and a bed, every feature of which was a
sonorous protest against being slept upon--completed the provisions
which had been made for his entertainment and comfort. Casting a dismal
look upon his uninviting quarters, but being thoroughly tired, the
detective threw himself upon the couch, which rattled and creaked under
him like old bones, and in a few moments was sound asleep.
How long he might have remained in this somnolent condition if left to
himself, it is impossible to state, for a vigorous alarm upon his door
cut short his slumbers, and startled him from his dreams.
Imagining that the hotel had taken fire, or that the porter had eloped
with the silver ware, he jumped hastily out of bed and opened the door.
"It's late and breakfast is waitin'," was the laconic message delivered
to him by the porter of the night before, as he started away.
With a muttered malediction upon this ruthless destroyer of his rest,
the detective donned his clothing, and, feeling as tired and unrefreshed
as though he had not slept at all, descended to the dining-room. If his
experiences of the previous evening had been distressing, the breakfast
which was set before him was positively heart-rending. A muddy-looking
liquid which they called coffee--strong, soggy biscuits, a beefsteak
that would rival in toughness a piece of baked gutta percha, and
evidently swimming in lard, and potatoes which gave decided tokens of
having been served on more than one previous occasion. With a smothered
groan he attacked the unsavory viands, and by dint of great effort
managed to appease his hunger, to the serious derangement of his
digestive organs. After he had finished his repast he lighted a cigar,
and as the hour was still too early for a conference with the bank
officials, he resolved to stroll about the town and ascertain the
locality of the Geneva bank, before entering upon the duties of the
investigation.
His stroll, however, was not a very extended one, for as he started from
the hotel he noticed upon the opposite side of the street the sign of
the bank. The building in which it was located was a large, square brick
structure, occupied in part by the bank, and in part as a store for the
sale of hardware and agricultural implements. The upper floor was used
as an amusement hall, and was called the "Geneva Opera House." Here the
various entertainments of a musical and dramatic nature were given, to
the intense delight of the people of the village.
There was no notice of the bank having suspended operations on account
of the loss they had sustained, and the operative inferred from this,
that business was being transacted as usual.
When the doors were at length opened the operative entered the banking
room, and requesting to see Mr. Silby, was ushered into the private
office of the president. As he passed through the room he took a passing
inventory of the young assistant cashier, Mr. Pearson, who was busily
engaged upon his books. He appeared to be a young man of about
twenty-four years of age; of a delicate and refined cast of countenance
and about medium height. His hair and a small curly mustache were of a
light brown shade, and his complexion was as fair as a woman's. The
young lady who had been the other victim of the assault was not present,
and the detective concluded that she was as yet unable to attend to her
duties.
These thoughts and impressions passed through his mind as he walked
through the banking room into the office of the president. As he entered
this apartment, he found several gentlemen evidently awaiting his
appearance, all of whom wore a thoughtful, troubled look, as though they
keenly felt the losses they had sustained and were resolved to bear up
manfully under their misfortune.
Mr. Silby, the president, a tall, fine-looking gentleman in the prime of
life, arose as the detective entered. Mr. Silby was one of those persons
who instinctively impress the beholder, with a confidence closely
approaching to veneration. Of a commanding presence, a broad noble face
surmounted with a wealth of hair in which the silvery touch of time has
left many traces, while his deep blue eyes were as bright as those of a
youth of twenty. There was such an air of rugged and uncompromising
honesty, of kindly feeling and warm-heartedness about the man, that even
before he had spoken the detective experienced a strong impulse of
regard for him, and a corresponding determination to perform his full
duty in this investigation and to devote all the energy of his being to
the task before him.
Presenting his letter of introduction, Mr. Silby hastily ran his eyes
over the contents, and then extending his hand he gave the detective a
most cordial greeting, and introduced him to the other gentlemen
present, all of whom received him warmly.
"Take a seat, Mr. Manning," said Mr. Silby, drawing up a chair. "You
find us anxiously awaiting your arrival, and prepared to give you any
information you desire."
"Thanks," responded the operative, taking the proffered chair. "As I
have come here for the purpose of making an examination into this case,
I shall require all the information that is possible to obtain."
"Very well," said Mr. Silby. "Now, what do you desire first?"
"A full statement as to how the robbery was committed," answered the
detective, promptly.
"Mr. Welton," said Mr. Silby, turning to a gentleman at his right, who
had been introduced to the detective as the cashier of the bank,
"perhaps you can relate the particulars better than I can."
"Excuse me," interrupted the detective, "but were you present at the
time the robbery occurred?"
"No, sir, I was not present," replied Mr. Welton. "Mr. Pearson, our
assistant cashier, and Miss Patton, were the only persons in the bank at
that time."
"Then," said the detective, "suppose we have Mr. Pearson in at once, and
hear the story from him. We always prefer," he added, with a smile, "to
receive the particulars of these affairs from eye-witnesses."
The other gentlemen nodded a cordial assent to this proposition, and Mr.
Welton arose, and going to the door, requested Mr. Pearson to enter the
consulting room.
The young man entered the office, and upon being introduced, greeted the
detective with an air of frank earnestness, and signified his readiness
to relate all that he knew about the robbery.
He remained standing, and from his statement the facts were elicited
which I have given in the preceding chapter. As he finished, he pointed
to a scar upon his forehead, which he stated was the result of the blow
he received at the time from the robber who attacked him. The wound did
not appear to be a very serious one, although the skin had been broken
and blood had evidently flowed freely.
"Mr. Pearson," inquired the detective, after the young man had
concluded, "do you remember having seen either of those men before?"
The assistant cashier darted a quick glance at the detective, and then
answered:
"Yes, sir; about three o'clock yesterday afternoon, a well-dressed
gentleman came into the bank, carrying a small valise in his hand, which
he requested permission to leave here until the next morning. I asked
him if it was of any value, and he replied no. Informing him that I
would then place it in the office, the man thanked me, and went away.
When the two men entered the bank at six o'clock in the evening, I
instantly recognized one of them as the man who had called in the
afternoon. He was, however, dressed very roughly on the occasion of this
last visit, and had evidently changed his clothes for the purpose of
escaping detection or recognition."
"Which one of the men attacked you?" now asked the detective.
"The one who left the valise in the afternoon. While the tallest of the
two was struggling with Miss Patton, who was screaming loudly, the other
one came behind the counter and struck me upon the head with the butt
end of his revolver. I became insensible after this, and knew nothing
until I found myself in the vault."
"How did you extricate yourself from this dilemma?" inquired Manning.
"Well, sir," began Pearson; and the detective imagined that he noticed a
hesitancy in his manner, which was not apparent before, "when I
recovered consciousness, I found myself locked up in the vault, with
Miss Patton lying beside me. When she recovered, we both shouted loudly
for help, and beat with our hands upon the iron doors, in the hope of
attracting attention. This failed, and we were nearly desperate. Just
then, however, my foot came in contact with some loose silver upon the
floor, and on stooping to pick them up, I found that they were ten-cent
pieces. Instantly, the idea occurred to me, to attempt to remove the
screws which fastened the lock to the inside of the door, and of using
one of these coins for the purpose. To my intense joy the screws yielded
to my efforts, and in a short time the heavy door swung open, and we
were free. I have told you already what followed."
As John Manning jotted these recitals down in his note-book, he could
not repress nor account for, a feeling of doubtfulness which crept over
him at this point. He looked up into the young man's face, but there he
saw only the evidence of serious truthfulness, and honest frankness; but
still that lingering doubt was upon him and he could not shake it off.
At his request, young Pearson then furnished him with a description of
the two men, as nearly as his memory would serve him, and these the
detective noted down for future use.
At length, finding that he had obtained all the information which could
be afforded him here, he thanked the gentlemen for their assistance, and
promised to call again in the course of the day.
"Remember, Mr. Manning," said Mr. Silby, "we rely entirely upon the
resources of Mr. Pinkerton's agency, and that we are confident that you
will succeed."
"I cannot promise that," returned Manning, "but you may be assured that
if success is possible, we will accomplish it."
So saying, he shook hands with the gentlemen, and left the bank. He
betook himself at once to the hotel to prepare himself for further
action in this investigation.