The Detective at Woodford.--An Interview with the Discarded Wife of
Newton Edwards.
It was on a hot sultry morning in August, about ten days after the
robbery at Geneva, that William Everman arrived at the picturesque
little city of Woodford. Woodford was the home of the brother of Mrs.
Newton Edwards, with whom that lady was supposed to have taken refuge
after her quarrel with her husband. Everman proceeded directly to the
hotel upon his arrival, and quickly announced himself as a traveling
salesman from a neighboring city. In a casual conversation with the
clerk, he ascertained that Edwards and his wife were quite well known in
the place, and that the clerk was an intimate acquaintance of the lady's
husband.
"Is Edwards stopping here now?" inquired the detective, in a careless
manner.
"No!" answered the clerk, as he fondly curled the ends of a very
delicate and scarcely perceptible mustache. "He hasn't stopped here
since his marriage; he usually goes to the home of his wife's family
now."
"Do you know whether he is in town now?"
"I think not, unless he arrived last night," answered the young man.
"There are several letters here for him, and he would have called for
them before this. He has his mail always directed here."
"I am sorry for that," said Everman. "I have some instructions for him
from the house he travels for, and he ought to get them as soon as
possible."
"Perhaps Mr. Black could tell you where he is. I believe Edwards' wife
is staying with him, and she certainly could tell you where you could
address him, or whether he is expected here very soon."
After thanking the clerk for his information and ascertaining the
business place of Mr. Black, the detective left the hotel, and sauntered
about the city.
Walking leisurely down the main street, he soon came in sight of the
place to which he had been directed. It was a small frame building,
somewhat old and dilapidated, and was sadly in need of the painter's
brush and a new covering of paint. Over the doorway swung a dingy,
time-worn and weather-beaten sign, upon which he could barely decipher
the words: "HENRY BLACK, Locksmith," and over which were
suspended a pair of massive crossed keys which at one time had been
bright golden, but which now were old and rusty looking. In the low
window in front there was a rare and curious collection of articles that
would have delighted the eyes of an antiquarian. Locks there were, that
were relics of a by-gone age, and seemed as if they might have done
service on dungeon doors in some ancient keep in feudal times--strange
and grotesque locks that had evidently pleased the fancy of some old
connoisseur, whose treasures were guarded by these strange looking
protectors, which had now outgrown their usefulness, and were exhibited
as curiosities in the practical age of to-day. Locks of latest finish
and design, and locks red and rusty and worn out, were mingled together
with a confusion and carelessness that bespoke a thriving business,
which left no time for order or arrangement.
Entering the shop without hesitation and with a careless air of
assurance, Everman found himself in the presence of the locksmith, who
was busily employed at his work. Mr. Black was a stout, good-looking,
middle-aged man, who wore bushy whiskers and a pair of iron-rimmed
spectacles. On the entrance of the detective he came forward with a
pleasant smile on his face, as though expecting a profitable customer,
and greeted the operative.
"Well, sir, what can I do for you to-day?"
"Nothing in the way of business," replied the detective; "I am seeking
some information which perhaps you can give me."
"Take a seat," said the locksmith, pushing a stool toward the detective,
and at the same time seating himself upon the counter. "I don't know a
great deal, but if I can tell you what you want to know I shall be happy
to do so."
"Thank you," replied Everman, as he produced a couple of fragrant
cigars, and handed one to Mr. Black. "My name is Everman; I am a
salesman for a city house, and am a neighbor of your brother-in-law,
Newton Edwards. I have a message for him from his employer, and want to
find out where to address him. I understood he had come to Woodford, and
was informed at the hotel that I would be apt to learn from you whether
he was in town."
While he was speaking, he watched the countenance of the locksmith
carefully, and as he mentioned the name of Edwards he noticed that the
cheerful smile disappeared from his face and was replaced with a heavy
frown; this remained but a moment, and when Everman finished speaking,
he promptly and pleasantly replied:
"I cannot tell you, I am sorry to say, where Mr. Edwards is at present,
for I do not know myself. I only know that he was in Chicago on
Saturday, a week ago, and at that time he stated that he was going to
Milwaukee and St. Paul; whether he did so or not I cannot tell you."
"I understood from his employer that he and Mrs. Edwards contemplated
stopping in Woodford for a few days before he started upon his business
trip."
In response to this, Mr. Black stated to the detective, after much
hesitation, but believing he was speaking to a friend, that on the
Saturday mentioned, he had received a telegram from his sister, who was
the wife of Newton Edwards, requesting him to come to her at once. He
immediately responded to this summons, and on going to the house where
she was stopping, he found her in great distress, and weeping violently.
From her he then learned that Edwards had come to the house that
morning in a state of intoxication, and had shamefully abused her. That
he had ordered her to return to her family, and declared that he would
never live with her again. Mr. Black had therefore brought his sister
home with him, and threatened to inflict personal chastisement upon
Edwards if he ever crossed his path again.
Finding that the story of the separation was a truthful one, at least so
far as the relatives of Mrs. Edwards were concerned, Everman decided to
obtain an interview, if possible, with the forsaken wife. Inviting Mr.
Black to accompany him to the hotel, which was but a short distance from
the shop, the locksmith took off his leather apron and paper cap, and
the two strolled away together.
Over their cigars and a cooling draught of very good beer, the
brother-in-law of the suspected criminal became quite friendly and
communicative, relating many trifling particulars of Edwards' earlier
life, which need not be repeated here. Preferring his request, at
length, Mr. Black cordially invited him to his residence, and giving him
explicit directions, suggested that he should call that afternoon. To
this proposition Everman readily assented, and after a short time spent
in friendly conversation, Mr. Black returned to his shop, and the
detective wended his way to the locksmith's house.
Arriving at the place designated, he found a pretty little cottage,
overgrown with climbing vines, while a garden of bright blooming flowers
rendered the front of the house an attractive spot. Ascending the stoop,
he rang the bell, and in a few moments a pleasant-faced lady appeared at
the door. Inquiring if Mrs. Edwards was within, and being informed in
the affirmative, he was invited to enter the cool and cosy parlor and
await her appearance.
After a short delay Mrs. Edwards entered the room, and the heart of the
detective was at once touched at the sad and sorrowful expression which
she wore. She was young, scarcely more than twenty, and a handsome
brunette. Her dark hair was brushed in wavy ringlets back from a broad,
intellectual brow, and the dark eyes were dewy, as if with recent tears.
Her cheeks were pale, and there were heavy shadows under the eyes, which
told of sorrow and a heart ill at ease. Another thing the detective
noticed, with a feeling of compassion, for he was himself a man of
family, the lady was about to become a mother. How strange and
unreasonable it seemed, that a young man of Edwards' position in
society, with a lovely and loving wife, with business prospects of the
most excellent character, could sacrifice all upon the altar of a base
and ignoble ambition to be suddenly rich. That he could at one fell blow
cast away the ties of kindred, the love of a devoted wife, the blissful
anticipation of becoming a happy and proud father, and in an evil hour
yield to a temptation which eventually would place the brand of the
felon upon his brow, would cause him to be shunned and despised by his
former friends and associates, clothe him in the garb of the convict,
and, if justice were meted out to him, would make him an inmate of a
prison. These thoughts flitted through the mind of the detective as he
gazed upon the pale sad features of the suffering wife, and for a moment
he regretted the profession which he had adopted. It is a common error,
I fear, to imagine that a detective is devoid of those finer feelings
which animate humanity, and to credit him with only the hard, stern and
uncompromising ideas of duty which only appear upon the surface. This is
a grave mistake, and does gross injustice to many noble men and women,
who, in my own experience, have developed some of the most delicate and
noble traits of which human nature is capable. It is true, their duty is
hard and unyielding, its imperative requirements must be rigidly
observed; but many a criminal to-day has urgent reasons to be thankful
to the man who was instrumental in bringing him to account for the
crimes he had committed. Many a convict's wife and children are the
recipients of kindly actions from the very men whose duty it was to
deprive them, by a legal process, of a husband and father. This may seem
strange and incredible, but from my own experience I can testify to its
absolute truthfulness. With the capture of the criminal the detective's
duty ceases, and all the sympathetic promptings of his nature have full
play. He has performed his duty to the state, to the law and to society,
and that done, his knowledge of the sufferings which crime have caused
leads him to acts of kindness and of practical assistance. To-day, I
have some of the warmest and most grateful friends among the families of
the men whom I was compelled to bring to justice, and in many cases the
criminals themselves have acknowledged my actions, and have been better
men in consequence. But this is a digression, and we will return to our
narrative.
Rising to his feet, the detective politely acknowledged the salutation
of Mrs. Edwards, and in as few words as possible he stated his errand.
With painful embarrassment of manner, Mrs. Edwards informed him that
she could not tell him anything about her husband's movements, as,
contrary to his usual custom, he had not informed her of the route he
intended to take when he left home. Not a word or a hint was given of
the trouble that was preying upon her heart, of the harsh, unfeeling
treatment to which she had been subjected, or of the brutal order,
expulsion and separation. The dignity of the noble little woman
sustained her grandly, and no confession of her wrongs escaped her lips.
She then informed the detective that she expected to hear from him every
day, and that she believed he was now traveling through Wisconsin.
That she was entirely unaware, at present at least, of her husband's
whereabouts, the operative was firmly convinced; and she appeared to be
equally uninformed of the suspicions that were entertained regarding
him.
After a few moments spent in friendly converse, the detective arose to
take his leave; and after being invited to renew his visit, he departed
from the house.
"By George!" murmured Everman to himself, as he made his way back to the
hotel; "that little woman is a wife to be proud of. That she knows
nothing at present I am fully convinced, but I am also certain that if
she learns of the crime her husband has committed, she would sacrifice
her life rather than aid us in his discovery. What a strange, unequal
world this is!--bad men linked with angelic wives; and vicious and
unprincipled women yoked with men who are the very soul of honor. Well,
well, I cannot set things right. I have only my duty to perform, and
moralizing is very unprofitable."
So pondering he returned to the hotel and resolving to call upon the
chief of police in the afternoon, he went into the spacious dining-room
and ordered his dinner.