As I entered the dining room I could see the eye of that mysterious
stranger watching me in the reflection of the mirror from the bar.
I was somewhat troubled at this, and I did not enjoy my dinner very
well.
After my repast, I lounged out to the office and then went to my room.
I went to the bath room first, drained the water from the ice, and
prepared a place for the dead man to lie in. When this was done to my
satisfaction, I went to the trunk my supposed friend was to occupy and
opened it. The usual balancing and cording precautions which I had
taken were all right, but the face that met my gaze was drawn, colored
and hideous, yet it somewhat resembled the outlines of my own when I
first secured the body.
The sight was disgusting, yet when I looked upon it, and realized that
at least $20,000 would come to me after a little further trouble, I
gazed on it as a very good investment which was about to mature.
The monetary possibilities of this work set me thinking, and yet I knew
I had in this instance to work rapidly. I loosed the cords, raised the
body, and carried it to the bath tub, where I sought to freeze it hard
enough for another day’s transportation.
There, in the twinkling light of a solitary gas jet, lay all that was
mortal of—I knew not whom.
I claimed him as my own, and as I studied the now rigid form, strange
questions arose and floated across my mind.
Who was he? What had he been? Was he a father, a lover, or brother? Was
his absence from home noted? Was he cared for? Or, was he, like myself,
a wayward son? Such thoughts troubled me but little before, and yet, as
he lay there on his frozen bed, I, seemingly fascinated by the awful
solemnity of death, did not seem able to tear myself away.
The gas flickered, a door slowly opened, and before I knew what had
transpired, I was given the opportunity of looking straight into the
eyes of the mysterious stranger—the Secret Service man—over the
glittering barrel of a death-dealing weapon.
Not a word was spoken, but our eyes instinctively turned towards the
object in the bath tub.
“Consider yourself under arrest, sir,” said the nocturnal intruder.
“I am at your service,” I replied, knowing that it would be useless to
try conclusions with that man in such a small room.
While he was getting some iron bracelets out of his pocket, I mentally
determined to have him in the street, glad enough to get away from me
and my rooms.
I was ready for him when he walked out into the next room; he keeping
his pistol leveled at me with one hand, and trying to get his handcuffs
out with the other.
By the merry little twinkle in his eye I read his character as though
it lay printed before me on an open page. It was part of my game, and
I intended to play my hand as well as I knew how. He seemed to hold a
good one, too, but as I had the greatest bower—money—I knew that it was
worth the while to play it as best I could.
Desperate, indeed, did my situation become when I saw that he had a
companion awaiting us in the room, and a glance at the window explained
how their entrance had been effected.
As we got into the chamber the man with the pistol, who was much larger
than his associate, looked at me and winked.
“John, go to the station house, and wait until I send for you; but do
not say anything until you get word,” my captor said to the other.
No sooner had the man called “John” gotten out on the porch roof than
the other turned to me with:——
“This is a nice sort of a business, and I have entrapped you neatly in
it. It looks very much like the rope for you.”
“My dear sir, you will let me explain, I hope. This man was my brother.
He has just died of a malignant and very contagious disease. He had
been sent to a medical college for dissection, and when I learned of
it, I determined to save the body from the demonstrator’s knife. Come,
look again, and see if you cannot discern a family resemblance?”
As I was talking, the man drew back, and, at my invitation, turned an
ashen color. His hands trembled, and as they dropped listlessly the
pistol fell to the floor and exploded with a loud report.
Critical as the moment was, it was time for me to act, and I made a
successful effort to get the weapon, and as I did so, I ordered him to
go to the window and save his life if it was of any value to him.
He lost no time, and as his form disappeared over the ledge of the
porch I fired a shot into the air.
This of course brought the landlord and several guests to my door,
which I opened in response to repeated knockings.
I was very much excited, apparently, and called out, “There, see, there
he goes.” The crowd of half-dressed men and women rushed to the window
and gave me a chance to close the bathroom door. Heavens, but I did
breathe more easily! The escape was a narrow one, but I succeeded in
allaying suspicion by saying that the man had attempted burglary, and
as I shot he jumped from the roof.
The figure of a running man was discernible in the darkness when they
were at the window, which had the effect of verifying my explanations.
After they had gone the landlord offered me the use of another room,
which I, of course, declined.
Now my real hard work was to begin. The man was apparently satisfied
that I had told the truth, yet he had a suspicious look which I did not
like.
As early as possible in the morning, I packed my own trunk with the
lead pipe, and to leave that of the fictitious Harvey, while I took my
dead friend from his frigid resting place, and repacked him in the new
trunk. Upon going to breakfast, I explained that I must go to a place
which was somewhat distant, on the early train; but would leave my
friend’s trunk in the room, as he was expected at any time.
Therefore I had the porter take the newly-packed trunk to the station,
where he bought me a ticket and had the trunk checked to my pretended
destination.
I timed myself to get to the station just as the train was going out,
and as the coast seemed clear, I boarded the smoker.
I knew if the detective missed me, he would go at once to the hotel,
and if he found my trunk there he would naturally wait around for an
hour or so, thus giving me a pretty good start of him.
When about thirty miles from Grand Rapids I got off to get a paper.
The newsstand was next to the Western Union Telegraph office, and as I
looked over the operator’s shoulder, he received the following message:—
“Look out for man and black trunk. Left here this A. M. Arrest and hold
him.”
I may have looked queerly, but I inquired in a natural way, how far it
was to ——, my destination.
“Forty-eight miles,” was the reply of the operator; and without raising
his eyes, he called a boy to take the message to the station policeman.
But he was too late. The train started, I swung on, and immediately
got hold of the baggage porter. I showed him my ticket, and asked him
to put my trunk off at the next station, which was but eight miles
distant. This he did, and it was a dismal place, indeed. When I got
off the train it was raining. It had been raining hard, evidently, all
night. The mud was hub deep on the lumber wagons, and the prospect of
stopping there was not a pleasant one.
I learned, upon making inquiries, that I could get to a little town
fifteen miles distant, which connected with another railroad, and to
do this I would have to drive. I determined to go, however, as the
detective, no doubt, would haunt every station between Grand Rapids and
my destination until he got some trace of me, when he would learn that
I had gotten away from him.
It was with difficulty that I secured a conveyance, which I did in
the evening, as I did not want a driver, because I knew the trunk had
become troublesome again on account of the odor of my dead companion.
Having carefully attached the trunk to the rear of a back-number
buck-board, a dismal trip was begun. As I said, I had considerable
difficulty in getting the rig, and as it was I had to leave a deposit
large enough to buy several of that particular kind.
After seven hours of the worst riding it has been my misfortune to
endure, I reached a small town from which a combination freight and
passenger train was about to leave. It was one of those accommodating
trains. I “saw” the conductor, who agreed to hold the train for half an
hour.
This delay was for the purpose of giving me a chance to freshen my
subject up a little. Ice was not procurable, and as there was no drug
store in the town, I went down to the grocery store, got the proprietor
up and bought several bottles of ammonia, which, when combined with
one or two other simple things, made a solution that rendered my quiet
friend quite acceptable so far as one’s olfactories were concerned.
This operation of attempted preserving was done in the privacy of
the baggage car, and all went well until we got about three miles
from town. Through the negligence of some section hands a rail was
left without the fish-plate being bolted on, and the whole train was
ditched.
The engineer was killed, and the conductor was badly injured, as also
were two or three passengers. I escaped through a window, and after
helping some of the injured who needed surgical attendance, I went to
the baggage car. It was a wreck. So was most of the baggage. My trunk
and one or two others were intact, and while awaiting the arrival of
the relief train and wrecking crew, my thoughts again got to wandering.
There was a score of us. Some were injured, one dead, and all of us
anxious. The morning was just breaking; the rain had ceased to fall;
and, as I looked away down the railroad, I could just distinguish a
cloud of steam and smoke, through the fog, which showed the approach of
a train.
Something seemed to tell me that I was about to be confronted with
some disagreeable occurrence, and, in anticipation of this premonition
becoming a fact, I quickly hauled my trunk to a little shed used by
workmen, and impatiently awaited the wrecker. Therefore, I was not
astonished when I saw that the first man to alight was my friend,
the detective of Grand Rapids. He also saw me, but seemed to pay very
little attention to me, as he knew I could not escape, for by this time
it was broad daylight, and no trains coming or going.
Finally he accosted me, and we entered into “an agreement” to have my
trunk taken to the junction of the road, which was done to my entire
satisfaction, and, I have every reason to think, to his also. Just what
that little agreement cost me I am not at liberty to say, for that
officer still lives.
It was a dark and dreary day when I got into the wild wildernesses of
Northern Michigan’s lumber tracts. I was soon established in a hut, and
it shortly became known that I was a lumber operator of considerable
means, and was regarded with much consideration by the hardy hewers of
trees and strippers of bark. The men were all honest, it seemed. So one
day I went out in the evergreen forest and failed to return.
A week or so later what was purported to be my dead body was found
pinioned to the earth by a fallen tree. Money and papers were found
in the clothes on the body which established my identity beyond the
question of a doubt.
Thus, by case No. 5, after a great deal of trouble and thrilling
escapes from the law’s officers, I added the neat little sum of $20,000
to my bank account by September 1st, as I had anticipated.
When I had finished with the trunk I presented it to a friend, but at
the time did not tell to what use it had been put.
Some years afterwards I met him at his home, and told him all about it.
Then he and his wife declared that often they had found it open—no one
having touched it—when both declared it had been closed and locked the
day previous.
One day in July, 1893, I met an old friend upon the street. I had not
seen him for nearly two years, and I noticed at once that he had not
prospered since I last saw him. I asked him to accompany me to lunch,
and upon inquiry, he told me that his only means of support at that
time consisted of what he could earn as a solicitor for the Fidelity
Insurance Company of Philadelphia, and he asked me if I could not carry
some insurance in his company, to which I replied that I was carrying
all I felt able to pay for.
I gave him, however, the names of several parties whom he was to visit,
some of whom he later insured. I invited him to come to the office and
accompany me to lunch whenever he was in that part of the city, and
later, at his solicitation, I abandoned the company in which I had been
insured, and allowed him to place a policy for me with his company
for two reasons: _first_, that he might be benefited by the premiums
I paid; _second_, upon his showing me the advantages they offered.
Considerably later, having exhausted all my resources so far as finding
him customers was concerned, we were standing within the Chamber
of Commerce Building, Chicago, when Pitezel, just returning from a
successful Southern lumber trip, came in; and not having seen my friend
for quite awhile, they talked for some time together, and finally he
asked Pitezel if he could not carry some insurance. Pitezel answered
that he did not care to do so then.
Up to that time Pitezel’s insurance record was as follows: Upon all
long trips, his instructions were to take out temporary insurance at
the time he bought his transportation ticket or mileage, making the
policies in favor of his family, and at my expense. He had occasionally
carried yearly accident insurance, and upon one occasion some regular
life insurance in the Washington Life Co. Soon after this meeting with
Pitezel, my friend asked me to try and induce him to take some in his
company. Pitezel was about to receive several hundred dollars, the
greater part of which I knew would, in a very few days, be wasted,
and considering the great help it would be to my friend during the
coming winter, I decided to induce Pitezel to insure, telling my friend
beforehand my reasons for doing so, and instructing him to place no
more insurance than Pitezel would pay cash for at the time.
Later, a policy was issued for $10,000, for which a cash premium was
paid. This policy differed very materially from one I should have
chosen, if any fraud had been anticipated at the time. After this I do
not think insurance was again mentioned between Pitezel and myself for
six months.
[Illustration: MRS. PITEZEL.]
My first intimate acquaintance with Mrs. Pitezel and her children began
in the fall of 1893, although I had often seen them prior to that,
especially the children, whom I liked and looked upon as remarkably
bright when they had come to me from time to time upon errands. At this
time Pitezel had gone to Indiana on some lumber business there among
the farmers, and to aid him in establishing a credit, had taken with
him some worthless checks to carelessly exhibit among his money, thus
having it appear that he was a man of considerable means and worthy of
credit in his business.
While under the influence of liquor he either lost or tried to use one
of these checks or drafts, resulting in his being arrested.
This necessitated my making three special trips to Terre Haute, where
his arrest occurred, and during this time a part of his family being
sick, it was also necessary for me to visit them often as well. In
November, 1893, I met Miss Williams by appointment at a hotel, where I
made some preliminary arrangements that resulted later, after several
more visits, in her accepting collateral security for all her real
estate holdings in Texas, they being valueless to her for the reasons
previously given.
The last of these visits took place in Detroit in December, 1893
(nearly six months after the death of her sister), since which time
I have not personally seen her. At the time of this visit a final
settlement was reached. I told her, after having reached such a
settlement, that I was very shortly to be married. This created so
severe a scene that she not only threatened my life, but that of my
prospective wife as well. These threats ceased only when I told her I
should, upon my return to Chicago, give to the authorities the details
of the tragedy that had occurred there in July.
The next day she seemed as pleasant as usual, and planned her own
future course, which consisted in opening a massage establishment in a
London hotel, Hatch to help her in conducting the enterprise.
About the middle of February I sent to her, from Fort Worth, $1,750,
which, when deducted from my previous indebtedness due her, left me
still considerably in her debt. This was secured by the Wilmette
property, the title to which it was agreed she should hold until all
was paid. I left Miss Williams in Detroit, apparently well pleased with
her business arrangements, and at least passably satisfied that the
many other matters between us had been settled.
Early in January, 1894, I sent Pitezel to Fort Worth, instructing
him to sell the real estate there which previously had been conveyed
to Benton T. Lyman, whom Pitezel was to personate, it not being safe
for him to act in his own name on account of his recent trouble in
Terre Haute, Ind. He did not succeed in readily finding a purchaser,
and later in the same month, having been married in the meantime, I
joined him there to aid him in his work. I had given Pitezel careful
instructions as to his conduct while away, but I found upon reaching
Fort Worth that he had not been governed by them. My first duty was
to remove him from the boarding place he had chosen to one in a more
respectable quarter, but the mischief had already been accomplished,
and he was known by that time throughout the town as a liberal,
free and easy drinking man, who, it was understood, had considerable
property.
A party owning property adjoining that which we wished to sell had need
of a portion of ours, but would not buy, depending upon renting it
at a very small figure, as he had been doing heretofore. In order to
force him to buy I directed Pitezel to withdraw his offer, and remain
wholly away from him, quietly survey our lot, and proceed to excavate a
portion of it, having it understood that he was about to erect a large
building, covering all of the ground. Our neighbor was fully as crafty
as ourselves, and not until we had caused elaborate drawings to be
prepared by an architect, and some foundation laid encroaching upon the
portion he needed, did he conclude to buy, and at a figure about twice
what it was worth. With a portion of this money, the old encumbrance of
$1,700, that had existed against the property, was paid. Then having
had some tempting offers from prospective tenants, a larger loan was
made and the building later nearly completed.
While the building was in progress there came to us a forlorn looking
object, begging for work, and out of charity we gave him some light
labor to do. He grew stronger as soon as he procured food. Later he
confided to me that he had recently been released from serving a
ten-year term in a Southern prison.
I had at first called him “Mascot,” which name clung to him thereafter,
though I think his real name was Caldwell.
Early in March Pitezel came to me one morning to say that the day
before while drunk he had been induced by some of the disreputable
associates he had formed at his former boarding place to marry a woman
of doubtful character, an adventuress some said, and that as soon as
he became sober had come to me. He threatened to shoot both the woman
and himself. I had him watched carefully for a few days, until I had
reasoned him out of this idea. A little later I sent him home to his
family in Chicago. He had in the meantime lived with this woman, and
they were known as Mr. and Mrs. Lyman.
Upon reaching Chicago he did some work there, and in St. Louis where
he afterwards went. He finally met me about May 1st, at Denver, where
I had gone to prepare papers with which to secure a loan of $16,000
upon this Fort Worth building. I needing his signature to the papers,
inasmuch as the property was (and still is) in his fictitious name,
Lyman, upon meeting him in Denver, I wished to proceed at once to
the Court House to have the necessary papers acknowledged, but he
told me he had, while away, devised a plan whereby he could not only
gain $10,000, but at the same time forever do away with any fear of
prosecution or trouble in consequence of his marriage in Fort Worth—a
matter which had perpetually worried him.
I had times without number listened to his visionary schemes for
obtaining vast wealth upon a day’s notice, usually in connection with
some new patent, until such matters had become a joke between us.
So I said to him, “Well, Col. Sellers, what is it now?” He replied
that it was one of my own inventions, and if I would go to the hotel
with him, he would tell me of it. He seemed so much in earnest that I,
although in a great hurry, went with him.
His plan was this (I should say here that several years before, while
making a Southern lumber trip with him, he had taken up some of the
tedious hours of the journey in telling me of his wild gold-mining
experiences, and, in reciprocation, I had told him something of my
medical experience, including a part of the frustrated insurance
scheme): He wished to hire an office in one of the highest buildings
in Denver, having it understood that he was to use it as a wholesale
book agent’s office; that he should buy an awning to protect the room
from the sun, and while placing it in position upon the outside of the
window it should appear that he had fallen into the area way below,
wishing me to have shipped to him from Chicago, or elsewhere, a body
which he could use to aid in the fraud.
I do not think we talked of the matter to exceed fifteen minutes. He
was accustomed to accept my judgment upon matters of importance without
much hesitancy. I proceeded to give him several reasons why his plan
was not a feasible one, principal among which was the fact that at the
present time insurance companies are too well equipped and too much
upon the alert not to detect this kind of fraud, nearly all of them
having a corps of private detectives. Among other reasons I gave him
was one he very well knew, that theretofore, when I had thought it wise
to indulge in business transactions that were not strictly legitimate,
I had always insisted upon two conditions being carried out:—
_First_, that such proceedings should be outside the regular beaten
track followed by ordinary disreputable schemers, for in consequence
thereof those engaged in them were closely watched. _Second_, that all
such acts should stop short of anything that was punishable by either a
large fine or imprisonment.
There was another reason I had for not entering into this fraud at
that time, if no others had existed, I did not tell him of it, namely,
that during the previous years he had been worth to me much more than
$10,000 per year, and I could not afford to have him place himself in
such a position as would necessarily be the case if this were carried
out where I could not further use him. His idea in regard to this had
been to go to South America and later have his family join him there.
Having dismissed the matter, I went on with my real estate work, and as
soon as the papers were executed, returned to Fort Worth, Pitezel going
back to St. Louis to attend to some work there.
Upon reaching Fort Worth, I found that some to whom money was owing
had filed mechanics’ and furnishers’ liens against the property, and
this so alarmed the party who was to have made the large loan that he
withdrew from his agreement, and this resulted in a large number of the
other creditors becoming alarmed, some two or three proposing to cause
my arrest for having obtained the material for the building under false
pretenses of payment.
I had never been arrested, and I had the same horror of it that I would
of being shot. Especially terrible seemed the methods prevalent in the
South, where I had seen, from time to time, convicts chained together,
with hardly any clothing, and if I could believe the reports our
“Mascot” had given us, with less food and more inhuman treatment than
was accorded the slaves of that region forty years ago.
I therefore raised what money I could, paying all of it, save $200, to
the poorer laborers who had worked for me, and immediately left the
city, intending to secure the loan in St. Louis or Chicago.
From time to time, during my residence in Fort Worth, I had bought from
different parties six good horses, paying for them, it is true, for
the most part with notes guaranteed by Lyman as the owner of the real
estate there. I make no claim that these notes have been paid, but I
do claim that the transactions were lawful, that no mortgage or other
encumbrance existed against any of the horses, but they were, however,
subject to attachment by any parties whom I was owing, and to avoid
this I instructed “Mascot” to take them to Denison, Texas, and ship
them from there to St. Louis.
Upon reaching Denison he shipped five of the horses, but failed to
accompany them himself, or to send $300 worth of other material,
including much of my clothing, one carriage, a watch I had loaned him,
and $80 cash given him to pay the freight upon the stock; nor did I
hear from him again until July, 1895, when, as an inmate of an Arkansas
prison, he was willing in exchange for his liberty to tell of matters
of which he could not have known even had they existed.
After reaching St. Louis, I immediately tried to negotiate the loan I
had failed to secure in the South. Pitezel was feeling much annoyed at
my failure there, for he had expected a rather more liberal payment
therefrom than he had received during the few preceding months, owing
to the fact that while he had been in Texas it had been necessary,
in order to appear that he was the owner there, that he should carry
the bank account in his name, and before he had known it, during his
drunkenness, he had been robbed little by little of nearly $1,000.
Therefore, when I told him that we should be short of money for some
time longer, he again advocated the insurance scheme, saying that it
could be carried out in the Southern Lumber Co.
He felt sure, and finally, against my better judgment, I told him
we would take a trip to the region he had spoken of, partly upon
lumber business and partly to look over the ground in connection with
the insurance work. He was as pleased as a child, and all his morose
feelings vanished at once. We first went down the Mississippi River to
visit a lumber tract that had been offered to me the year before upon
very easy terms, hoping to buy it, using some Chicago securities as
payment, and by selling at once to raise the money we so much needed
at Fort Worth. We found upon reaching our destination that this tract
had been sold. We then went East to the Tombigbee River in search of
another similar tract, and here Pitezel wished to have it appear that
while he was traveling upon horseback through the extensive swamps
he had met his death accidentally, or had been killed for what money
he was supposed to have carried. He was known in that locality under
his own name, having transacted a number of legitimate lumber deals
there the year before. After wandering with Pitezel for several days
through those swamps, being eaten by fleas and terrified by snakes, he
walking ahead, as he said, to drive them away, but, as I later found,
to escape their anger by passing out of their reach, leaving them for
me to contend with, I flatly refused to go farther with the scheme,
but told him instead that I would interest some of the planters in a
canning factory.
With the machinery which I was able to furnish from Chicago I felt
sure that, before sixty days, we could realize $15,000 in cash and
lumber therefrom. He would not hear to it, however, and opposed me
more strongly than I had ever known him to do previously. He told me
that at that time he was liable to arrest in Kansas, in Terre Haute,
Ind., and Fort Worth, Texas, and that since his domestic trouble some
years before in Chicago he had cared less than ever, and he had been
determined ever since he left Texas, where he had drank more heavily
than before (which also worried him), that he would leave the country,
and now, if he could not do so, he would, upon my refusal to go on, go
through with his scheme alone. His words were, “I can furnish a body,
and, the way I feel now, I do not care how quickly I do it.” Seeing how
downhearted he was I complained no more, but talked with him of other
things, and finally told him that I would next day go to Mobile, and if
I could procure a suitable body there, would return with it. If not,
I should go direct from Mobile to St. Louis, where he must join me,
and, after doing some work there, we would go to Chicago and organize a
company among certain lumber firms we knew, and return South later and
make what money we could by exchanging this stock and machinery for the
canning factory into lumber and other products. I therefore left him,
as he supposed, to go to Mobile. This I did not do, and have never been
in that city in my life. I returned at once to St. Louis and, after a
little delay, wrote to Pitezel that it had been impossible to obtain
what I needed South and for him to join me at once. Nearly two weeks’
delay occurred before he came. His wife had been receiving letters from
him that he was sick during this time.
Later, after his death, I learned that upon receiving my letter that
I could not do any more in the insurance matter he had made an effort
to take his life at the hotel of Henry Rodgers, at Perkinsville,
Ala., and for days, as a result of this ineffectual attempt, he was
sick there, as he was later at the Gilmer House, at Columbus, Miss. As
soon as I reached St. Louis I found that all efforts towards securing
a loan there were useless, and being nearly out of money, owing to
my having paid out so much before leaving Fort Worth, I had to look
sharply about for some immediate source of revenue. I finally bought
and took possession of a drug store in that city, paying for it with
notes secured by a chattel mortgage and some other securities. Owing
to the negligence of the firm of whom I bought, this mortgage was not
recorded, and upon Pitezel reaching the city I sold to him all my
right, title and interest (this being the wording of the bill of sale)
in the store, which he immediately mortgaged for a considerable sum.
For this transaction I was arrested and confined in the St. Louis
jail for several days until, although I perhaps could, by a legal
fight, have shown that I had a right to sell the store under these
circumstances, it became clear to me that it was safer to settle the
matter, which was done.
My arrest occurred on a Saturday evening, and from then until Monday
morning I was confined in the receiving portion of the jail, below the
level of the street, and these few hours of my first imprisonment were
far more trying to me than my subsequent experiences of like nature
have been.
Here, all through that long, hot Sunday, all classes of prisoners, both
male and female, were brought together, and allowed to indulge in the
most filthy and obscene talk.
And at the open windows, opening directly upon the sidewalk, all day
and far into the night, a crowd was standing, more than half of whom
were tiny children, eagerly drinking in each word that was said. The
next morning I had handcuffs placed upon my wrists, and was taken
into Court and later into the jail proper, where better discipline
was enforced. Here I was consigned to a very small iron cage (I know
no better name for it), one of about three hundred, ranged tier above
tier around a large area in which all, or nearly all, the prisoners
are allowed to exercise together during certain hours of the day. Here
were to be seen many noted criminals, who were soon pointed out to
me as “This is so and so, who is to be hung upon such a date.” (About
thirty murderers, one of whom was the prison barber, who if you paid
him ten cents, would shave you with a very dull razor, while if you
paid him more he would use a sharp one; and as I sat in his chair, I
could not help thinking that which ever one he used was plenty sharp
enough for him to commit one more murder with, if he chose, and I
therefore directed him to use his sharpest razor at a price above his
own figure, very much as I would have held out a tempting piece of meat
to a vicious dog which I feared was about to bite me.)
Or, “That is the notorious forger or confidence man,” as the case might
be. Among others was one, a noted train robber then serving an eighteen
years’ sentence, and who a short time previously had become more
notorious by a nearly successful attempt at escape from the prison. He
is a young man, whom, to meet upon the street, one would suppose to be
a bright mechanic or a farmer. He is very intelligent, and I took much
interest in talking with him. He told me of the case that had resulted
in his arrest; of his subsequent trial, and remarked that Blank & Blank
in St. Louis were his attorneys; to which I replied that but for the
fact of the senior members of the firm being absent on a vacation they
would have been my attorneys as well, I having first sent for them, and
finding this to be the case had employed Judge Harvey instead.
He afterwards asked me if, upon leaving the prison, I could not
contribute $300, which, together with some other money he could obtain,
would give him his liberty by bribing one of the keepers, making a
claim that he had successfully done so before. My answer was, that at
the present time I had less ready money than had been the case for
years previously, owing to my having invested so much in the South. I
told him if I could arrange to aid him later I would do so, but I made
no engagement with him to furnish me with an attorney for the insurance
work as has been claimed, for I was already acquainted with the firm.
The balance of my short stay in this prison was taken up by my reading
“Les Misérables,” a peculiarly interesting volume to me under the
circumstances, and I judge it was to all prisoners who cared for
reading, as was evidenced by the condition of the book itself,
which I obtained from the prison library. I was also entertained by
watching a huge negro being prepared to meet his death by hanging,
by having alternately administered to him spiritual consolation from
his confessors, large quantities of cigars to smoke, food to eat and
liquor or beer to drink. A so-called death watch was kept also, but
not so stringent but that he was allowed to go alone to the front of
the compartments occupied by his favorite companions, and talk at some
length with them.
Next morning, upon looking from my latticed window across into the
court yard, I saw him meet his death upon the gallows in the presence
of a large and morbidly curious crowd of people. If I had been in need
of any warning to deter me from almost immediately placing myself in a
similar position, I know of no stronger one that I could have received
than to witness this man’s death struggles, to see the crowd making
light of it, and almost before he was dead quarreling to possess small
portions of the rope which sent his soul hence, and, I think, of his
clothes. Gruesome relics they were, indeed.
Upon the day I was liberated from this place of confinement, I visited
first my own attorney and later Blank & Blank, in the same street, at
which time the following conversation took place. Entering the office,
and having explained who I was, I said:—
“I have called on you to perhaps make some arrangements that will aid
in securing the liberty of your client,” to which one of the firm to
whom I spoke, replied, “I guess you have made a mistake in the office;
I know nothing in regard to the matter.” I said, “I am sure I have made
no mistake in the office, and furthermore, have seen either you or your
brother talking to him at the prison. However, my visit to you was to
aid your client, and of no immediate value to me, and I have no desire
to force the recognition of your client upon you, and will therefore
bid you good day.” Upon my withdrawing to the door, he followed me, and
said, “Wait a moment; I will go down to the prison and see what my
client means; you come here again, shortly.”
I replied that I should be in Judge Harvey’s office, and upon his
return he could call there if he wished to talk further with me.
I would then accompany him to his office. He did call for me, and
upon reaching his private office was willing and ready to talk. Our
conversation resulted in my placing in his hands for collection nearly
$500 worth of good accounts, authorizing him to apply $300 of the
proceeds to the robber’s use. I also gave him my Chicago address, in
case he wished to write me.
As I was leaving his office he said, “My client wished me to ask you,
if he succeeds in gaining his liberty, if you will aid him in a certain
piece of bank work he wishes to do.” I replied that it was wholly out
of my line, and I should be of no more service to him in such work than
a dead man; moreover, my recent imprisonment had shown me the necessity
of being even more careful to avoid laying myself liable to arrest in
the future, but that I would furnish the chloroform and nitroglycerine
he needed upon my arrival in Chicago, and have it placed in a safe
place with a suit of clothes and other articles we had planned during
our interview, and possibly might aid him later in disposing of certain
bonds and stocks he expected to gain possession of; but that there
would be ample time to plan for that after he had gained his liberty,
for which I would watch the papers closely.
Upon this I left his office, and started for Chicago the same evening,
where I had previously sent Pitezel to commence arrangements among the
lumber men whom he knew for the formation of the stock company before
mentioned. I reached Chicago August 1, 1894, and upon calling upon my
attorney there and also my agent, both assured me that it was dangerous
for me to stay in Chicago, as there were then Fort Worth parties there
looking for me, and forming an alliance with some persons whom I was
owing to cause my arrest, and thereby force me to procure the money due
them.
My attorney instructed me to go elsewhere if I thought sufficient money
could be made to satisfy these debts and organize my company, and upon
my asking him where I should go, he told me that either New York or
New Jersey were favorable States in which to organize companies to do
business elsewhere. Having other business in New York I decided to go
there, though under a different name, lest the granting of a charter
to a company of which I was an officer should, by being published, be
noticed by the Fort Worth parties.
I suggested to Pitezel that he should finish some patents, one of
which I wished to use in this company, and it was later decided that
he should go with me to New York to act as one of the incorporators
and to work upon his patents in some small shop he was to hire for
the purpose. Before leaving Chicago he reminded me that his insurance
premium would be due before our return, and wished me to give him the
money to pay it before he went away, remarking that he still thought
I would be glad to fall back upon this plan of getting money after my
company had failed me. I told him that, owing to the stringency of our
money matters, I had allowed my own insurance to lapse and wished he
would do the same. He was not willing to do this, advancing, besides
the reason already given, that while it was safe for me to allow my
insurance to lapse, as I had other things with which to protect those
dependent upon me in case of my death, he had little or nothing. He
also knew that I had collected a considerable sum of money since
coming to Chicago, and could, if necessary, give him what was needed.
I finally settled the matter to his satisfaction in the following
manner: Upon the day his insurance expired I was to give him sufficient
money to take out a three months’ accident policy for $5,000; it was
supposed he at that time carried $1,000 of the same kind of insurance,
and I agreed to be personally responsible to his family to the extent
of $4,000 in case he died, this aggregating the sum of $10,000. He
was satisfied with this, it being agreed that at the end of three
months, when our money matters were in a more flourishing condition,
his regular insurance should be renewed. During our trip to New York,
in my talk with him, not having had much opportunity to plan and hold
genial conversation together since he left Fort Worth months before,
I noticed that he was not as pleasant as usual, was more inclined to
sit by himself and smoke and think and frown and worry. I spoke to him
of it, and asked him if he had encountered any new trouble at home, to
which he answered that he had not.
We reached New York about August 5th, I think. I went to the Astor
House and he secured a boarding place near Thirty-third street. I at
once commenced to look about for some small space in a shop where he
could carry on his work.
Up to this time, since I had sent Miss Williams the various sums
aggregating $1,500 from Texas, during the preceding winter, I had
received only two letters from her, both forwarded to me from New York
through a friend in Denver, who had acted as my agent in the matter.
About the time I left Fort Worth, I had written her asking that she
send me $600. I found this amount awaiting me at New York in Bank of
England notes, which I later converted into United States currency at
Drexel & Co., in Philadelphia and in New York.
For the first few days of my stay in New York, I was busy visiting
several large machinery stores and in doing some other work pertaining
to my company’s business of years before. Upon the morning of the 9th
of August, Pitezel reminded me that his insurance expired that day, and
requested that I aid him in placing his temporary insurance.
I had been waiting for him to make this announcement. He had a very
valuable, undeveloped patent, nearly finished, a machine for testing
eggs, which I wished to use at once. I therefore said to him, suppose
I pay you $500 cash for your share of the new patent (I by previous
contract already owned one-half of it), then you can use the money as
you choose, both for insurance and other matters. He answered that he
ought not to take less than a $1,000. I finally gave him $600 for it,
and upon his asking me which he should do, retain his old insurance
or take out the new, I at once advised him to retain the old, for two
reasons: _First_, it would help my old friend again. _Second_, if he
took the third insurance, long before the expiration of that time his
money would have been blown away, and I should feel obliged to give him
more.
He then said, “I will go and telegraph to the company in Chicago, and
see if they will keep my insurance in force until the money can reach
them.” I said, wire them the money instead. This was apparently a new
idea to him, for after understanding it he not only wired them what was
due, but also a small amount to St. Louis to his wife. I, as usual,
cautioned him to be careful of the rest of the money, and make it last
as long as he could. Besides this I had done all I could to cheer him
up, and get him out of the morbid condition he had been in, and he
voluntarily promised that for the following thirty days he would not
drink liquor.
He told me afterwards that so hard did he try to keep his promise after
I left him in New York that he went to the post-office there, and sent
by registered letter to B. F. Perry[1] in Philadelphia, nearly all the
money he had, so as to place himself beyond temptation for the first
hard days of his struggle. At this time I had come to Philadelphia
to meet my wife, to do some business with the Link Belt Engineering
Company, with some stationers and with the Pennsylvania Railroad, all
of whom were using a patent in which I was interested. Upon reaching
Philadelphia I found that this and other work would detain me some
time, and not knowing of Pitezel’s precaution already taken, and
fearing lest he should become drunk in New York, I wrote to him to come
here. This he did, and, deciding to make our headquarters here, I hired
some rooms for my wife and myself.
He immediately commenced to look about for a part of a shop in which
to do his work. My wife was taken seriously ill about this time, and
continued so during the remainder of our stay in Philadelphia. I was
not able to be away from the house more than a few hours at a time, and
therefore did not see as much of Pitezel as I otherwise should. About
the middle of August he told me he had hired an entire house at 1316
Callowhill street, it being but little more expensive than a shop. That
he had met another patent man who had promised to pay a part of the
rent, remarking at the same time that when I got ready to help him in
what he wished to do, he would buy out the other man’s business or move
elsewhere, and if I perfected my company and went South to unload it,
he, if he could make any money in his patent exchange, would have his
family come to Philadelphia for the winter, as under the name of Perry
he did not fear trouble.
I did not have anything to do with the leasing of the house, nor was I
in it to exceed four times prior to the day before his death.
Upon Saturday, September 1st, I called on him to execute some patent
papers to send to Washington, and at this time he certainly was doing
a good business. During the time I was there no less than twenty
customers called, some of them being agents he was supplying with
certain washing and cleaning compounds that he manufactured. He had
also surrounded himself with a great number of models of patents he
was trying to sell for other parties on commission. So busy was he,
that after waiting patiently for a long time, I told him I would go to
my house and would return next day to execute the work he wished to
do. Just before leaving he asked me to lend him $30 or $35, saying he
wished to use it to pay his rent that was then due and to place some
advertisements in the next day’s papers, explaining to me that all his
money was in two large bills, which he did not wish to change until
necessary, as, if once broken, he feared he would spend them faster.
I laughingly said to him, “Ben, you are sure they are not spent
already?” He answered, “Oh, no! I have them placed away safely
upstairs; I can go up and get them if you want me to;” and then started
as if to do so. I gave him the money, saying that I did not require him
to verify his statement.
That evening he came to my place of residence at about 8.30. I noticed
at once that he had been drinking, and spoke to him of it, though not
in anger, as it had always been my custom to wait until he became
sober before chiding him. He told me that he had received word that
one of his children was sick, and it might become necessary for him
to go home. I asked him which child it was, and also told him he had
better telegraph and instruct his wife to wire him if she thought it
was necessary for him to go. He then spoke of leaving his business, and
asked me what he should do about it if the man he was expecting to take
an interest with him did not come on at once. I told him I thought it
best for him to select the most trustworthy of his agents to leave in
the office for a few days, reminding him that I had to go to St. Louis
upon some legal business early in the week, and therefore could not aid
him. I then bade him good night, telling him I had to go to the market
near by before it should be closed. He said he would go with me. He
waited at the market while I made my purchases, and returned with me
almost without speaking. I then again said “good night.”
He said, “Can’t you come out again? I want to see you.” I told him
as my wife was not well, I could not very well be absent longer,
attributing his unusual request to his having been drinking; I also
reminded him that I was to see him early the next day. He said in
reply, “Then come out a moment now, and I will go home.” I did so, and
he said, “You will have to let me have some money in case I have to go
to St. Louis.” I said, “that will hardly be necessary; use what you
have, and if the child dies or other unforeseen expense arises, I shall
be in St. Louis during the week, and can then see to it.” He replied,
“Well, I will have to tell you; I have not got any money save what
you gave me to-day, and I have used part of that for liquor instead
of paying my rent with it.” I said, “Ben, this makes over $1,600 you
have wasted in debauchery and drink within the last seven months while
your family have needed it. I am done. I told you in Fort Worth if it
occurred again I should settle our business affairs, and thereafter
you would have to care for yourself. I don’t want to talk with you
to-night, but to-morrow I will go to your house, and I want to settle
up not only the patent work, as we had intended, but all our other
affairs, and in the future if I can spare any money it will be given
to your family instead of to you, but I will go to see them upon my
arrival in St. Louis, and will, if the child is dangerously sick, send
you money to go home with.”
He said they had no money then to live on. I said, “If I find this to
be so, I will give them some. It will not be the first time I have done
so, and far in excess of what would have come to them had you been
working elsewhere. For your own part, you will have to keep sober here
in Philadelphia in order to make a living, which I know you can do if
you try.” He was crying at the time. He then asked me if I would not
help him to carry out the insurance work, having it appear he had been
robbed there in the Callowhill street house. I replied, that inasmuch
as he was persisting in drinking, it would not be a month after it
was carried out before he told some one of it. He said, “You are in
earnest; you will not help me anymore; I can do nothing alone.”
I replied, “I am in earnest, and will talk it all over with you
to-morrow, and plan as best we can for the family,” and again bade him
good night, and as he reluctantly started away I asked him to promise
me not to drink again that evening, and to go at once to his home and
to bed.
He promised to do this after first going again to the telegraph office
to see if there were any messages for him. He then left me, and that
is the last time I ever saw him alive.
I wish to say, however, that while I thought it wise and for his
advantage for him to suppose he had got to care for himself in the
future, I had no intention of abandoning him, if for no other reason
than that he was too valuable a man, even with his failings taken into
consideration, for me to dispense with. I should have gone through
a form of settlement with him next day, and upon my return from St.
Louis, if I found him sober, have gone on as before.
The next morning I went to the Callowhill street house, reaching there
about 11 o’clock, entering with a key he had given me some weeks before
to use if I came there in his absence. I found no one in the front
portion of the house, and passed back into the kitchen; finding that
also deserted, I went to the stairway and called him by name; receiving
no answer, I went up the stairs so that I could look into the room
where he slept.
He was not there, and I was much worried, thinking that, instead of
coming home as he had promised, he had gone about the city and perhaps
had been arrested. Upon returning to the kitchen, however, I noticed
that there were evidences of a fire having recently been built in the
stove, and, therefore, did not think more of the matter, concluding
that he had gone to the post-office or telegraph office.
I then left the house, but before doing so I placed a chair in a narrow
passageway at the end of a counter, to denote to him, if he returned
before I did, that I had been there. I went to the Mercantile Library
and read the foreign papers for about an hour, went to a place on
Eleventh street where I had a box for my private mail, and then, buying
a Philadelphia Sunday paper, I returned to the Callowhill street house,
entering as before.
The chair was as I had left it. I sat down for a few minutes to read,
then went into the kitchen and rekindled the fire, so that he could
prepare us a light lunch as soon as he returned, while I was making up
the necessary papers.
The fire soon making the lower rooms uncomfortably warm, I went up
stairs and lay down upon his bed and resumed the reading of the
paper. While there I noticed an unusual odor and finally got up. Upon
going into the adjoining room I found perhaps two dozen small bottles
containing a certain cleaning fluid upon the mantel, some of which were
uncorked. This fluid contained some chloroform, ammonia and benzine
among other ingredients, all being of a volatile nature.
[Illustration: HOLMES BURNING PITEZEL’S CLOTHING IN CALLOWHILL STREET
HOUSE.]
I don’t know how long I stayed there, nor what time it was when I
finally thought it best to go home, and I then went down stairs to his
desk to write him a note. There among the paper I found a note written
in a cipher we sometimes used, which read, “Get letter in bottle in
cupboard,” or words to that effect. (This note being one that no one
could read without my aid, I carried it in the small watch pocket of my
pantaloons, until in Toronto, having a new suit of clothing made, from
which my tailor had omitted such a pocket, I placed the note in a tin
box of papers that later was taken by the authorities. The note is now,
or should be, in their hands.)
I went to the kitchen cupboard, which was the only one I had noticed in
the house, and there I found a whiskey flask, within which I could see
some paper.
To get at it I quickly broke the bottle, and upon opening the letter
I read, “I am going to kill myself, if I can do it. You will find me
up stairs. I am worth more dead than alive.” I did not wait to finish
the letter at that time, but went hurriedly up stairs. The only place
on the second floor I had not had occasion to visit that morning was a
small room under the stairway, and looking into it I found it empty.
I then ran up this stairway to the third story, a portion of the house
I had never before been in.
It consisted of two low, small rooms, each having one small window.
The door to one of these rooms was open. I instinctively turned to the
room that was closed. Thrusting open the door and stepping within, I
saw Pitezel lying upon the floor. I rushed to him, but before I had
remained longer than to remove a large towel that was wrapped around
his head, and not having time to find if he were alive, I was forced,
owing to the overpowering odor of chloroform, together with the shock
of coming upon him so suddenly and in such a condition, to leave the
room, falling upon my knees and crawling a portion of the way until I
finally reached the window in the adjoining room, which I opened, and
in a few minutes had recovered myself sufficiently to return to the
room where Pitezel lay, but again was forced to leave before I could
make a satisfactory examination.
This time I had opened the window in this room as well, and presently
was able to ascertain that he was dead. I then went to the hallway and
sat down upon the stairs. I do not know how long I sat there, nor what
I thought in the meantime. I had not yet wholly recovered from the
effects of the chloroform, and was dazed. This was not due to having
come suddenly upon a dead body, for my medical experience of years
before had rendered me accustomed to disagreeable sights and scenes—but
the man had been to me far more than an ordinary employee; one whom,
although most of our tastes were dissimilar, I had always liked and had
had fewer disagreements with than would likely have been the case had
he been my own brother. And to come upon him thus had unmanned me.
I know the thought never came to me while sitting there that it might
be dangerous for my own safety, the street door being then unlocked.
After a time I returned to the room and made a careful examination.
He lay upon his back, his lower limbs fully extended, one arm folded
upon his chest, the other thrown out at his side.
His head was slightly raised by means of a coarse colored blanket,
closely folded. He was fully dressed, except his coat and vest which
hung on a chair beside him. The pockets of his trousers were turned
inside out, and in the waistband was a letter within an envelope
addressed “C. A. P.”[2]
If asked to express an absolutely true opinion as to how long he had
been dead, I should say not more than six hours.
Upon the chair was a large gallon bottle laying upon its side, so
arranged that it would nearly empty itself, it being held in position
upon one side by a hammer and upon the other by a small block of wood;
from the bottle, and connected thereto by a perforated cork in which an
ordinary quill toothpick had been inserted, there trailed a long piece
of small rubber tubing, terminating at its free end in the towel I had
removed upon first entering the room. This tube was constricted midway
by a piece of cord tied about it, so that the flow of liquid would be
slow.
Owing to the time that had elapsed after his death all the chloroform
that could escape from the bottle, in the position in which it lay, had
passed through the tube, filling his mouth and, as I later learned from
the Coroner’s physician, his stomach as well; this one fact alone being
sufficient to prove to any scientific person, or physician at least,
that any one having a medical training would not, if obliged to use
chloroform for such a purpose, carry it to such an extent if he wished
it to appear later that the man died as the result of inhaling the
vaporous fumes of chloroform and benzine, that had exploded in a bottle
held in the victim’s hands.
The excess of the liquid had then run out upon the floor and on the
blanket underneath his head. The only other articles in the room
besides those already enumerated were some small pocket belongings, a
knife, memoranda book, match box, containing some of our patent stamps,
and perhaps twenty small coins; all these were placed on the chair
beside the bottle. Upon the window-sill was a small handful of tacks
with which he had fastened some newspapers upon the sash in lieu of a
curtain.
By this time, owing to the excoriating effect of the chloroform his
face had become somewhat discolored, and I went to the rooms below and
procured a wet towel, and after covering the face with it I started
down the stairs fully intending to call in some of the neighbors. Then
came the thought that, instead of filling the house with a crowd of
curious people, it would be better to go direct to the Coroner.
I know this thought was in my mind as I passed down the stairway, for
I distinctly remember wondering in what part of the city the Coroner’s
office was located, whether at the City Hall or elsewhere, and if it
would be open on Sunday.
Reaching the kitchen I picked up the letter which, in my haste, I had
let fall before going up stairs in search of him. The substance of the
letter, beside that already given, was that he had tried to take his
life in Mississippi during the previous June, and now with his drinking
habit growing so much stronger day by day, he could not hope to make a
living without my aid. He wished me to so arrange his body in one of
two ways that it would appear that his death had been either accidental
or that he had been attacked by burglars and killed, giving the details
of how I was to carry out either course:—
First, that his family should not at present know of his death;[3]
second, that the children should never know he had committed suicide
(this he also repeated in the letter left for his wife); that the
insurance money should be used to place the Fort Worth building in an
earning condition, and that I should exchange some Chicago property we
owned for some house in a city with good school advantages; that none
of the money should be so placed that relatives could borrow it away
from his wife. He spoke of our close connection for years, and that
he could depend upon my aiding him now and in the future, ending his
directions with the words:—
“Do enough with me so there won’t be any slip-up on the insurance; I
shan’t feel it.” The letter was poorly written, and it took me some
minutes to decipher it, and upon finishing it, I sat down for a time
and re-read parts of it. This gave me time to consider my own position,
and as soon as it came into my mind, but before I had decided to carry
out his instructions, I went into the front office and locked the
street door.
The thought that troubled me most at that time was, that under no
conditions, whether the insurance part was carried out or not, was I
the one to discover his dead body. I was here in Philadelphia under
an assumed name. A few years earlier I had stopped at some hotels and
met people under the name of Holmes. Some years before that I had done
business here under still another name, and at another time, earlier
yet, I had visited relatives here under my true name.
And now at this time, to be called as a witness before a Coroner’s
jury, would almost certainly cause me to be identified by some one;
and if under the name of Holmes, it was more than likely to be seen
in the papers by some Fort Worth people, and would probably result in
my arrest upon the charges there, and my arrest at this time I was
satisfied would mean death to my wife.
Again, I had an engagement in St. Louis for the following Thursday
morning, to fail to keep which would result in the loss of a
considerable sum of money, and also prove a source of great annoyance
to my attorney, who was personally responsible for my appearance there.
Besides this, Pitezel was dead; nothing I could do here would aid him,
while in St. Louis I could be of the utmost benefit to his family, by
forestalling the announcement of his death reaching them through the
newspapers, by seeing them personally, and also caring for the child
that was sick, if need be. This portion of the matter was settled in
my mind at once, then came the question whether I should do anything
to aid in the deception of the insurance matter or simply remove the
letter he had written to his wife, lest it contain matters that should
not be made public and go away. One of his plans I did not entertain
for a moment, the one involving striking him upon the head severely
enough to crush his skull. Had my own life depended upon it, I could
not have forced myself to strike his dead body even had I been sure
there was no suicide clause in his insurance policy. I should have
preferred to have told his family at once of his death, contrary to his
wishes, in preference to doing anything to mislead the authorities,
involving, as it necessarily must, some mutilation of the body.
I had never seen the policy, but from my friend the insurance agent’s
statement that it was similar to mine, I judged it contained such
a clause. Nor did I know whether or not the suicide clause was
inoperative in Pennsylvania as it is in many other States. (All these
things I most certainly should have found out previously if I had been
intending to immediately carry out the fraud.) After considerable
deliberation, I went to the room in the second story that he had
partially prepared, uncorked the small bottles I had previously found
there, and also found the pipe he had filled with tobacco, the top of
which was slightly burned as though he had just lighted it before his
accident occurred.
[Illustration: CALLOWHILL ST. HOUSE WHERE B. F. PITEZEL’S BODY WAS
FOUND.]
He did this part of the work previous to his death, knowing that I
did not smoke or knew little of filling pipes intelligently enough to
deceive any one. Having placed the room in the condition necessary
(breaking the large bottle, placing pipe upon the floor, etc.), I moved
his body as carefully as possible to this second-story room. I found
that the chloroform had given the side of the face and neck and part of
the chest quite the appearance of having been burned, and this made my
task the easier, although it seemed terrible enough in any event.
At last I forced myself to burn the clothing upon one side of the body,
smothering the flames when they reached the flesh, and in this way
produced partially successful results; then hastily gathering together
several small articles that I wished to take away with me, I placed
the room somewhat in order, and after going again to the room where he
lay to see him, as I then supposed for the last time, I at once left
the house, disguising myself to some extent by wearing one of his
hats, for I had been fully alive to the necessity of care after I had
first had time to think of the matter. Among the things taken from the
house was a bottle of chloroform, which he had previously bought in
Philadelphia, and prepared to send to Chicago to be placed with the
clothing and other things for Hedgpeth’s use.
In going out of the house I was careful to leave the door both unlocked
and open, in order to call attention to the condition of affairs within
as soon as possible. Upon reaching the more pure air of the street I
was seized with a feeling of nausea and dizziness, resulting probably
as an after-effect of the chloroform-laden air within.
I knew my general appearance must have been that of an intoxicated
person. To become relieved of this feeling somewhat if possible, I
decided to walk a portion of the distance to my residence, and while
doing so decided that it was best, my wife being well enough, to leave
Philadelphia at once, thinking that Pitezel had no doubt spoken of me
to some of his newly-made friends, and perhaps told them where I lived.
I, therefore, went to the Broad Street Station and ascertained that
a train would leave in half an hour (so I know now that I left the
Callowhill street house, at about 3.45 o’clock, as the train referred
to was the regular 4.30 Western train); I found that another train left
for the West at 10.25 P. M.; and although my wife was not able to do
so, I took her as carefully as I could to this train and left at that
hour.
I have often since that day tried to analyze the feelings which I had
at the time of Pitezel’s death. I felt it to be a terrible matter, and
certainly could not have deplored it more had he been a relative, but I
did not then, nor have I since felt the great horror concerning it that
I experienced at the time of Nannie Williams’ death in Chicago, which
was wholly unprovoked and for which I felt that I was the indirect
cause; while in this case, his death occurred as the result of his own
premeditation, in consequence of his having allowed himself to slowly
drift into pernicious habits for which he was more than any one else
to blame. Upon reaching Indianapolis, I was occupied until Wednesday
noon, September 5th, in arranging comfortable quarters for my wife, at
which time I started for St. Louis, reaching that city about 7 P. M.,
having bought upon the train a St. Louis _Globe-Democrat_, giving in a
Philadelphia dispatch an account of the finding of Pitezel’s (Perry’s)
body in the Callowhill street house upon the previous day.
After a short delay I went at once to Mrs. Pitezel’s place of
residence, about an hour’s ride from the centre of the city, hoping to
be in time to tell them of the matter myself. Upon reaching the house,
however, I found all in a state of commotion.
The neighbors were there, a physician had been summoned, and it was
some time before I could obtain a suitable opportunity to talk with
Mrs. Pitezel. I found her in a very nervous and over-wrought condition,
and I thought it best to palliate her fears for a time, and, therefore,
said to her, “Perhaps Ben is not dead. There may be a mistake in the
person, as I saw him alive last week.”
[Illustration: HOLMES’ “CASTLE” CHICAGO.]
To which she answered, “Oh, no! I am sure it is he, for I have been
writing to him under that name and at that address.” Just at this
moment Dessie, the oldest daughter, called me to one side and said,
“Do you think papa is really dead?” I replied that I feared so, but
that her mother should not be told until we were certain of it. She
said, “I don’t think he is. Last spring, when I was sick and he was
leaving me, he told me that if I ever heard that he was dead not to
believe it, as some work he was going to do might require him to have
people think so for a time.” I asked her if he had told her mother of
this, and she said, “No; her father had told her not to tell any one.”
As soon as a favorable opportunity occurred, I said to Mrs. Pitezel,
“Did Ben ever say anything to you about not worrying if you heard of
his death?” She replied, “Yes;” and, after stopping a moment, added,
“If he has gone and done that without letting us know, leaving us to
worry ourselves to death, I could almost wish he was dead. Is it the
insurance matter?” “I guess it is,” I replied, in such a tone that she
would think that I knew it to be so. She then asked if he would get
the money all right, and I told her that it would be paid to her, if
anyone. She asked, “Where is Ben now?” I replied that it was his plan
to go South at once. She said, “Well, I do not want him writing to me;
all his letters for me must go to you; and the children need not know
but that he is really dead, for they would certainly tell of it; they
are young, and will soon get over the worry.” I asked if the insurance
policy was there in the house, and she said, “I do not know; I will
see; he ought to have given it to you if he was going through with it
so soon; it may be in Chicago among some things stored in a warehouse
there.”
I did not allow her to look for it at that time, as she was too ill
yet from her shock to do so, but instructed her to look for it next
morning, and if well enough, to bring all the papers she had to my
attorney’s office. Some question then arose as to whether she could
find this office, and she remembered that at the time of my arrest
her husband had called there and had brought home one of their cards,
which she said was still among some of his papers, and with this she
could find her way.[4] At about 9 o’clock, the family being more
quiet at the time, I returned to the hotel for the night, and I feel
sure that Mrs. Pitezel at the time of this visit, which was the first
confidential talk I had ever had with her, had no previous knowledge of
an intention to perpetrate a fraud upon this company other than a vague
idea that under certain conditions and at a more remote time it might
have been carried out, which was the exact condition of affairs as they
had existed upon the day of Pitezel’s death.
She is not a woman of extraordinary gifts, and any simulation on her
part at this time would not have deceived me. The next morning I
went to Judge Harvey’s office and found that owing to his absence my
case had been postponed. I left word there for Mrs. Pitezel, if she
called during the day, to wait for me, and I went to the offices of
another attorney and spoke of the insurance claim and told him if it
was promptly paid I could use some of that money. He said insurance
companies are slow and it will probably be some time before it is
settled. He asked how large an amount it was, and upon my stating it
was $10,000, he said, “You will need an attorney in fixing the papers;
can’t I do it for you?” I replied that I was about to consult Judge
Harvey. He said, “Let me have it; I have just settled a fire insurance
loss and had first-rate success, besides you are really my client, as
we sent you to Judge Harvey because my partner was away at the time.”
After returning to Judge Harvey’s office and not finding him there, I
saw him again and told him that the claim was a false one, that the
man was, in reality, not dead. He made a number of inquiries as to
the details of the fraud and finally said, “Well, if you have any one
to attend to it here it had better be me, for neither Judge Harvey
or my partner would dare to take hold of it. I do not belong to this
firm, although I have an office here with them. You will notice my
letter-heads appear with my own name alone; still I can avail myself
of their judgment in important cases, and on account of this supposed
death occurring under a fictitious name, you will find you need help.”
I then explained that Mrs. Pitezel was to come into the city that
morning, if she was able, with the papers, and he remarked, “Well,
she must not know that I have any knowledge that the claim is not a
legitimate one.”
It was then arranged that he should write some letters to the company’s
office in Chicago, to ascertain if Pitezel had, in reality, paid the
premium as he had stated, there being no receipts showing this had been
done, and also to write to the authorities in Philadelphia.
I asked him in regard to his fee, and he stated that it would depend
upon how much work had to be done, but that being a young attorney he
would make it a reasonable sum. Later, in going out of the building, I
met Mrs. Pitezel and explained to her that this lawyer would take care
of the case for her, and that she should not have him know that she
was aware of his knowing the true state of the case. In other words,
she, while in his presence, was to appear and speak as though it were a
genuine loss.
So, at this stage of the case, I knew Pitezel was dead; Mrs. Pitezel
and the attorney each supposed him to be alive, but, by a separate
agreement each had voluntarily made with me, both were to deceive each
other in this respect, making a most unique case of conspiracy, if
conspiracy it was.
I was not present during all of the attorney’s first interview with
Mrs. Pitezel, but she authorized him to write the necessary letters,
and I told her that he had made satisfactory arrangements with me in
regard to his fee, which I would be responsible to him for.
I then gave Mrs. Pitezel some money for her immediate wants and
left the city, intending to return again in ten days, at which time
my case was to be called in Court. Before going away I told the
attorney he could address me at Indianapolis at any time. About five
days thereafter I received a letter from him, stating that he had
received an answer to his letter of inquiry sent to the Philadelphia
authorities, in which they stated that the man referred to was only
known to them under the name of Perry, and would be buried as that
person unless some one identified him at once as Pitezel. He also
stated that Mrs. Pitezel instructed him to ask me to return to St.
Louis and aid her if I could do so.
This I did at once, and upon meeting him he told me it would be
necessary for some one to go to Philadelphia at once, and wished me to
furnish the money for him and one of the family to make the trip. I
told him that until the first of the following month I could not well
do this, but suggested a person with whom Pitezel had formerly dealt
that I thought would advance the necessary sum, if it was agreed that
it should be returned to him with interest as soon as the insurance was
collected. The attorney later negotiated such a loan, receiving $300.
At this time I saw Mrs. Pitezel, and she not being strong enough to
take the trip, it was decided that the daughter, Alice, should go.
This choice of the children being principally due to arrangements
previously made by Pitezel, that if Miss Williams came to this country,
and returned to her old occupation as a teacher, that Alice should live
with her for a year to go to school. I had received a letter from Miss
Williams that she had decided to do this, and at the time of Pitezel’s
death had asked her to come to settle in Cincinnati, thinking thus she
would break away from her old life, making it safer for me to be also
where she could help in regard to some Texas papers, which I had found
must at any hazard, be duplicated. Therefore, a few days later, when
Alice left St. Louis, it was with the full understanding that she was
to stay East with Miss Williams, or go with her to Cincinnati, if all
located there.
At the time I was about to leave, having made these arrangements, I
received a letter that had been forwarded to me from Chicago, asking
for my assistance in identifying Pitezel, it being known to the Chicago
office that he had been in my employ. To intelligently answer this
letter, I went to the attorney’s office, at which time I first closely
examined the insurance policy. I then wrote to the company as accurate
a description as I could give of him.
At this time the attorney said, “Why don’t you go to Philadelphia,
also?”
I replied that it would be an unnecessary expense, and I wished to go
to Cincinnati at that time to arrange for a house for the family. He
said, “I had better wait until the money was paid,” and I replied that
the family would have to have a house whether the money was paid or
not. Finally it was decided I should go to Philadelphia via Cincinnati,
which I did, writing to the company from the latter place that I had
business calling me toward Philadelphia, and I would call upon them in
a few days, and if possible aid them in identifying the body. Later
in the same day I met Alice _en route_. The next day, early in the
afternoon, I called upon the Insurance Company in Philadelphia.
I was introduced, after a little delay, to Colonel Bosbyshell, one of
the officers. He talked with me for some time regarding the case, and
finally, having asked me a good many questions as to Pitezel’s general
appearance, said, “Well, I think that it is either a case of mistaken
identity or a fraud. The man found here, and who has been buried under
the name of B. F. Perry, was a man who weighed forty pounds more than
Mr. Pitezel, both according to your judgment and according to his
application for insurance; and moreover, this man had red hair while
Pitezel’s was black. An attorney and some of Mr. Pitezel’s relations
are expected here at any time, and I wish you could stay and aid us in
clearing up the matter.”
He then left the office, and in a few minutes returned with some money,
which he tendered me, saying they would be glad to have me stay at
their expense. I replied that I would not take the money, but having
other work to attend to, I would call from day to day, and if I was put
to much expense or loss of time, I would ask them to pay me, otherwise
no charge would be made, explaining further that Pitezel was indebted
to me, and if the claim was a genuine one I would be willing to devote
some time to it in order that I could collect my money, which I had no
doubt his wife would pay.
That afternoon I saw our attorney, he and Alice having arrived in the
interim. I told him of my interview, and he at once said, “We shan’t
collect a dollar. They have either substituted a body for the one you
used, or your choice was so poor it had not deceived them.” He was in
favor of abandoning the case and returning to St. Louis.
[Illustration: ALICE PITEZEL.]
Finally it was decided that he should see the company the next day,
but he insisted, as he said, for his own safety, that if we met at
the company’s office he should not have it appear he had ever seen
me before. The next day, about half an hour after I called at the
insurance office, the president of the company, who I had met the day
before, and our attorney entered the room where I was seated, and the
following conversation took place:—