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ALLAN PINKERTON'S
GREAT DETECTIVE STORIES.
1.--THE MOLLIE MAGUIRES AND DETECTIVES.
2.--STRIKERS, COMMUNISTS, AND DETECTIVES.
3.--CRIMINAL REMINISCENCES AND DETECTIVES.
4.--THE MODEL TOWN AND DETECTIVES.
5.--THE SPIRITUALISTS AND DETECTIVES.
6.--THE EXPRESSMEN AND DETECTIVES.
7.--THE SOMNAMBULIST AND DETECTIVES.
8.--CLAUDE MELNOTTE AS A DETECTIVE.
9.--THE MISSISSIPPI OUTLAWS AND DETECTIVES.
10.--GYPSIES AND DETECTIVES.
11.--BUCHOLZ AND DETECTIVES.
12.--THE RAILROAD FORGER AND DETECTIVES.
13.--BANK ROBBERS AND DETECTIVES.
14.--THE BURGLAR'S FATE AND DETECTIVES.
15.--A DOUBLE LIFE AND DETECTIVES.
16.--PROFESSIONAL THIEVES AND DETECTIVES.
17.--THIRTY YEARS A DETECTIVE.
18.--THE SPY OF THE REBELLION.
"The mental characteristics of Allan Pinkerton were judgment as to
facts, knowledge of men, the ability to concentrate his faculties on one
subject, and the persistent power of will. A mysterious problem of
crime, against which his life was devoted, presented to his thought, was
solved almost in an instant, and seemingly by his intuitions. With
half-closed eyes he saw the scene in which the wrong was done, read
every movement of the criminals, and reached invariably the correct
conclusion as to their conduct and guilt."
_A new uniform edition, cloth bound, Illustrated.
Price per vol._ $1.00.
G. W. Dillingham Co., Publishers
NEW YORK.
[Illustration: "_At this instant I flung open one of the shutters, and
simultaneously I heard a cry of horror from my clerk._"--Page 19.]
THE SOMNAMBULIST AND THE DETECTIVE.
THE MURDERER AND THE FORTUNE TELLER.
BY
ALLAN PINKERTON.
AUTHOR OF
"EXPRESSMAN AND DETECTIVE," "SPIRITUALISTS AND DETECTIVES,"
"PROFESSIONAL THIEVES AND DETECTIVES,"
"RAILROAD FORGER AND DETECTIVES,"
"MOLLIE MAGUIRES AND DETECTIVES," ETC., ETC.
[Illustration: Logo]
NEW YORK:
_G. W. Dillingham Co., Publishers._
COPYRIGHT,
W. B. KEEN, COOKE & CO.,
1875.
COPYRIGHT, 1903, BY
JOAN CHALMERS.
_The Somnambulist._
PREFACE
In presenting to the public my third volume of Detective Stories, I
desire to again call attention to the fact that the stories herein
contained, as in the case of their predecessors in the series, are
literally true. The incidents in these cases have all actually occurred
as related, and there are now living many witnesses to corroborate my
statements.
Maroney, the expressman, is living in Georgia, having been released
during the war. Mrs. Maroney is also alive. Any one desiring to convince
himself of the absolute truthfulness of this narrative can do so by
examining the court records in Montgomery, Ala., where Maroney was
convicted.
The facts stated in the second volume are well known to many residents
of Chicago. Young Bright was in the best society during his stay at the
Clifton House, and many of his friends will remember him. His father is
now largely interested in business in New York, Chicago, and St. Louis.
The events connected with the abduction of "The Two Sisters," will be
readily recalled by W. L. Church, Esq., of Chicago, and others. The
story of "Alexander Gay," the Frenchman, will be found in the criminal
records of St. Louis, where he was sentenced for forgery.
So with the stories in this volume. The characters in "The Detective and
the Somnambulist," will be easily recognized by many readers in the
South. As the family of Drysdale are still living and holding a highly
respectable place in society, the locality is not correctly given, and
fictitious names are used throughout.
By reason of the peculiar nature of the circumstances, the facts
narrated in "The Murderer and the Fortune-Teller," are known only to a
small circle, but they can readily be substantiated. Captain Sumner was
never informed of the means employed to influence his sister, and his
first knowledge of them will be obtained in reading this book; but he
will remember his own visit to "Lucille," and will undoubtedly see that
the affair was managed exactly as I have stated.
In reading these stories, the reader will probably come to the
conclusion that the detection of criminals is a very simple matter, and
that any one with a moderate amount of intelligence could have done just
as well. To a certain extent this is true, but not wholly. The plan once
adopted, it is not difficult to put it in execution; but experience,
judgment and tact are required to form a plan which will bring out the
real facts connected with the crime. This done, the capture of the
criminal is only a question of time.
Legitimate, honest detective business is yet in its infancy, but the
trade, as at present generally conducted, approaches the dignity of an
art--a black art, unfortunately, the object being accurately to
distinguish the percentage of plunder which will satisfy the criminals
and the real owners, the remainder being divided among the so-called
detectives.
In point of fact, these fellows are worse than the acknowledged
criminals, since they rob under the guise of honest men, and run little
or no risk, while the actual thieves take their lives in their hands. It
may safely be said that the average detective would rather be in league
with the criminals of this city than opposed to them, and the great
majority _are_ so leagued; and until such a state of affairs is broken
up, the criminals who have money will surely escape punishment.
ALLAN PINKERTON.
THE DETECTIVE AND THE SOMNAMBULIST.
_CHAPTER I._
About nineteen years ago, I was enjoying a short relaxation from the
usual press of business in Chicago. I had only one or two really
important cases on hand, and I was therefore preparing to take a much
needed rest. At this time, my business was not nearly so extensive as it
has since become, nor was my Agency so well known as it now is; hence, I
was somewhat surprised and gratified to receive a letter from Atkinson,
Mississippi, asking me to go to that town at once, to investigate a
great crime recently perpetrated there. I had intended to visit my
former home in Dundee, for a week or ten days, but, on receiving this
letter, I postponed my vacation indefinitely.
The letter was written by Mr. Thomas McGregor, cashier of the City Bank,
of Atkinson, and my services were called for by all the officers of the
bank. The circumstances of the case were, in brief, that the
paying-teller had been brutally murdered in the bank about three or four
months before, and over one hundred and thirty thousand dollars had been
stolen. Mr. McGregor said that no expense should be spared to detect the
criminals, even though the money was not recovered; that would be an
important consideration, of course, but the first object sought was the
capture of the murderers of poor George Gordon, the late paying-teller.
Having already arranged my business for a brief absence, I was all ready
for the journey, and by the next train, I was speeding southward, toward
Atkinson.
I arrived there early in the morning, of one of the most delightful days
of early spring. I had exchanged the brown fields and bare trees of the
raw and frosty North, for the balmy airs, blooming flowers, and waving
foliage of the sunny South. The contrast was most agreeable to me in my
then tired and overworked condition, and I felt that a few days in that
climate would restore my strength more effectually than a stay of
several weeks in the changeable and inclement weather of northern
Illinois. For sanitary, as well as business reasons, therefore, I had no
occasion to regret my Southern trip.
My assumed character was that of a cotton speculator, and I was thus
able to make many inquiries relative to the town and its inhabitants,
without exciting suspicion. Of course, I should have considerable
business at the bank, and thus, I could have frequent conferences with
the bank officials, without betraying my real object in visiting them. I
sent a note to Mr. McGregor, on my arrival, simply announcing myself
under a fictitious name, and I soon received a reply requesting me to
come to the bank at eight o'clock that evening. I then spent the day in
walking about the town and gathering a general idea of the surroundings
of the place.
Atkinson was then a town of medium size, pleasantly situated near the
northern boundary of the State. The surrounding country was well watered
and wooded, consisting of alternate arable land and rolling hills. The
inhabitants of the town were divided into two general classes: the
shop-keepers, mechanics, and laborers, formed the bulk of the
population; while the capitalists, planters and professional men were
the most influential. Most of these latter owned country residences, or
plantations outside of the town, though they kept up their town
establishments also. A small water-course, called Rocky Creek, skirted
one side of the place, and many of the most handsome houses, were
situated on, or near this beautiful rivulet. The whole appearance of
Atkinson, and the surrounding country, indicated a thrifty, well-to-do
population.
Having roamed about to my satisfaction, I spent the latter part of the
afternoon at the hotel, where I met a number of the professional men of
the county. I found that the hotel was occupied by many of the best
families during the winter and spring, and I soon formed the
acquaintance of several of the gentlemen. They greeted me with
characteristic Southern hospitality, and I was pleased to see that my
_role_ as a Scotch speculator was quite an easy one to play; at least,
no one ever appeared to suspect my real object in visiting Atkinson.
At the appointed hour I went to the bank, and was met outside by Mr.
McGregor, to whom I had been introduced during the day. He took me in
through the private entrance, and we were joined in a few minutes by
Alexander Bannatine, president, and Peter A. Gordon, vice-president, of
the bank. Mr. Bannatine was about fifty years of age, but he looked much
older, owing to his continuous and exhausting labors as a lawyer, during
the early part of his life. Having made a large fortune by successful
practice and judicious investments, he had retired from the active
pursuit of his profession, and had joined several old friends in the
banking business. Mr. Gordon was, also, about fifty years old. He had
become wealthy by inheritance, and had increased his fortune by twenty
years of careful attention to business. He was unmarried, and George
Gordon, the murdered bank-teller, had stood in the relation of a son to
his uncle; hence, there was an additional reason for the capture and
conviction of the murderers. The recovery of the large sum of money
stolen, would, alone, have been an important consideration, but Mr.
Gordon was willing to spend a very extravagant amount in the detection
of the criminals, even though the money might never be discovered.
We seated ourselves at a table in the cashier's room, and I prepared to
take notes of all the facts then known by the gentlemen present.
"Now, Mr. Bannatine," I said, "please tell me everything connected with
the case, which may be of service to me."
"Well, Mr. Pinkerton, I have not been connected with the bank so long,
or so closely as Mr. McGregor," said Mr. Bannatine, "and perhaps he had
better give a short sketch of young Gordon's connection with the bank
first."
"George Gordon was taken into our employ about five years ago," said Mr.
McGregor. "He had previously acted as our agent in one of the interior
towns, and when he became of age he was offered the place of
paying-teller. Since then his obliging disposition, courteous manners,
and faithful performance of duty, have endeared him to all his
associates, and have given him the confidence of all persons with whom
he came in contact. His character was spotless, and his devotion to duty
was superior to all allurements; he would never sacrifice one moment to
pleasure which should have been given to business."
"Had he any associates among the fast men and women of the place?" I
asked.
"No, sir, not one," was the prompt reply; "we have not been able to
learn that he had any acquaintances even, among that class."
"Well, please proceed to state all the circumstances connected with the
murder," I suggested.
"I was not at home at the time," said Mr. McGregor, "but I can give you
many facts, and Mr. Gordon can add thereto. George was in the habit of
remaining in the bank after office hours for the purpose of writing up
his books, as he acted as book-keeper also. During the very busy
seasons, he would sometimes be kept at work until long after dark,
though this was unusual. Occasionally customers would come to the bank
after the regular hours, and George would accommodate them, or I would
do so, when I was present. We were both very careful about admitting
outsiders after the bank had closed, and we never allowed any one to
enter except well-known business men and old customers of the bank. We
had large sums on hand at times, and George frequently said that we
could not exercise too much care in managing our business. I mention
this to show that he was not careless in his habits, but that, on the
contrary, he always took the greatest precautions against fraud or
violence."
"Were there any customers who were in the habit of coming in late?" I
asked.
"Yes, there were several," replied Mr. McGregor; "for instance, Mr.
Flanders, the jeweler, used to bring over his more valuable jewelry
every afternoon to put into our vault; he would put it into a small box
and leave it here about five o'clock. Then, our county clerk, Mr.
Drysdale, used to stop frequently to make deposits in cases where other
parties had paid money to him after banking hours. He was very intimate
with George, and he used to stop to see him sometimes and walk out with
him after his work was finished. Walter Patterson, also, was one of
George's particular friends, and he has often stayed with George until
nine or ten o'clock in the evening. Besides these there were several of
our leading planters who would come in as late as eight o'clock to
deposit funds, or to obtain cash for use early the next day."
"Did young Gordon have the keys to the vault?" I asked.
"Oh! yes," replied Mr. McGregor; "I was often called away on business
for several days, and he used to act as cashier in my absence. He was in
the habit of carrying the keys with him at all times; but his uncle
advised him not to do so, as they might be taken from him by a gang of
desperate characters, and the bank robbed. He had, therefore, given up
the practice of taking the keys home with him after night-fall. Just
about the time of the murder, we had one of the busiest seasons ever
known; the cotton crop had been enormous, and sales had been very rapid,
so that our deposits were unusually large. One morning I found that I
must go to Greenville for several days, on business of great importance.
Before going, I gave George full instructions upon all matters which
might need attention during my absence; yet I felt, while on my way to
the depot, that there was something which I had forgotten. I could not
define what it was, but I hurried back to ask whether he could think of
any thing further upon which he might wish my advice. I found him
chatting with his friend, Mr. Drysdale. Calling him to one side, I said:
"'George, is there anything more upon which I can advise you?'
"'No, I guess not,' he replied; 'you will be back so soon that if there
should anything new turn up, it can wait until you return.'
"'Well, be very careful,' I continued, 'and don't allow any one to come
in here after dark. It may be an unnecessary precaution, but I should
feel easier if I knew no one was admitted to the bank during my
absence.'
"'Very well,' he replied, 'I shall allow only one or two of my personal
friends to come in. There will be no harm in admitting them, for they
will be an additional protection in case of any attempt on the bank.'
"I could offer no objection, and so we parted. I was gone about a week,
when, having settled my business in Greenville, I returned here. The
first news I received was, that George Gordon had been found murdered in
the bank that morning, the crime having been committed the night before.
I will now let Mr. Peter Gordon, George's uncle, tell the circumstances,
so far as he knows them."
Mr. McGregor was a careful, methodical man, about sixty years of age. He
always spoke directly to the point, and in his story, he had evidently
made no attempt to draw conclusions, or to bias my judgment in any way.
Nevertheless, he showed that he was really affected by young Gordon's
murder, and I saw that I should get more really valuable assistance from
him, than from both of the other two. Mr. Gordon was greatly excited,
and he could hardly speak at times, as he thought of his murdered
nephew. His story was told slowly and painfully, as if the details were
almost too much for him. Still, he felt that nothing ought to be
neglected which would assist me, and so he nerved himself to tell every
little incident of the dreadful crime.
"I remember the day of the murder very distinctly, Mr. Pinkerton," he
said. "Mr. Bannatine was obliged to visit his plantation that morning,
and Mr. McGregor being away, as he has already told you, I spent most of
the day at the bank with George. He was perfectly competent to manage
all the business himself, Mr. Pinkerton, for he was a very smart and
trustworthy young man, the very image of my dear brother, who was
drowned twenty years ago, leaving me to bring up George like my own son;
but, as I was saying, I kept George company in the bank that day, more
as a measure of safety, than because he needed me. Well we received a
large amount of money that day in bank notes and specie, and I helped
George put the money into the vault. When the bank closed, George said
that he should work until five o'clock and then go home to dinner. I was
anxious to go to my store, as business had been very heavy that day, and
I had had no opportunity to attend to my own affairs; I therefore left
the bank at four o'clock. George and I boarded at the hotel, and at
dinner time, he came late, so that I finished before he did. About seven
o'clock, George came down to the store, where I had gone after dinner.
He sat a little while and smoked a cigar with me, and then said that he
must return to the bank, as he had a great deal of work to finish up on
the books; he told me, also, not to sit up for him, as it might be quite
late before he came home."
"Were there any other persons present when he said this, Mr. Gordon?" I
asked.
"Yes; there was a shoemaker, named Stolz, whom George had just paid for
a pair of boots. Mr. Flanders, the jeweler, was there also, and he had
his box of jewelry for George to lock up in the safe. There had been so
many customers in his store that afternoon that he had not been able to
take the box over before. There were several other persons present, I
recollect now that you ask me about it, but I had not thought of the
matter before, and I cannot recall their names."
"Well, I guess we can find out," I replied; "please go on. By the way,
one question: had George drank anything at all during the day?"
"No, sir, nothing whatever. George used to smoke a great deal, but he
_never_ drank at a bar in his life; all his young friends will tell you
the same. He sometimes drank wine at meals at his own or a friend's
table, but he never drank at any other place. He left my store about
half-past seven o'clock, and Flanders went with him to leave his
jewelry. Flanders' store is near mine, and he soon came back and chatted
with me a short time. He has since told me that he did not enter the
bank, but that he simply handed the case of jewelry to George on the
steps of the private entrance, and George said to him: 'I won't ask you
to come in, Flanders, for I have too much work to attend to, and I can't
entertain you.' These are the last words that George is known to have
spoken."
Here Mr. Gordon's agitation was so great that he could not speak for
several minutes, but at length, he continued:
"I went to bed about ten o'clock that evening, and came down late to
breakfast next morning. I did not see George anywhere around the hotel,
but I thought nothing of that, as I supposed that he had gone to the
bank. After breakfast, I got shaved, smoked a cigar, and then went to my
store. In a few minutes, a man named Rollo, who has an account at the
bank, came in and said:
"'Mr. Gordon, what is the matter at the bank this morning? It is now
after ten o'clock, and everything is still shut up.'
"'What!' I exclaimed, 'the bank not opened yet! My nephew must be sick,
though he was quite well yesterday evening. I will go to the bank with
you at once, Mr. Rollo.'
"One of my clerks accompanied us, and on arriving at the bank, we found
a cabinet-maker named Breed, trying to get in. I went and pounded on the
front door several times, but no one came. I then went to the private
entrance and gave the signal by rapping, to let those inside know that
one of the bank officers was at the door. We had a private signal known
only to the officers, so that I was sure there must be something wrong
when I found it unanswered. I had a dreadful feeling in my heart that
something horrible had happened, and I was about to hurry away to the
hotel, to see if George was there, when I casually let my hand fall upon
the knob and turned it; to my surprise, the door yielded.
"By this time, quite a crowd had gathered outside, attracted by the
unusual spectacle of the closed bank, and the knocking at the doors. I
therefore left Mr. Rollo and Mr. Breed to keep the crowd from entering
the side entrance, while my clerk and I threw open the heavy shutters of
this room where we are now sitting. We then entered the main bank
through yonder door, and while I went to open the outside blinds, which
excluded every particle of light, my clerk walked down behind the bank
counter. He suddenly stumbled over something and fell, and as he got up,
he said that the floor was wet. At this instant, I flung open one of the
shutters, and simultaneously I heard a cry of horror from my clerk.
Running to the counter, I looked over and saw a terrible sight. My poor
boy--"
Again Mr. Gordon's feelings overcame him, and it was some time before he
could go on. Finally he was able to resume his story, though he was
frequently obliged to pause to wipe away his tears.
"My nephew's body was lying midway between his desk and the vault door;
he had evidently been standing at his desk when he was struck, as was
shown by the direction in which the blood had spirted. He had been
murdered by three blows on the back of the head, the instrument used
being a heavy canceling hammer, which we found close by, clotted with
blood and hair. The first blow had been dealt just back of the left ear
while George was standing at his desk; he had then staggered backward
two or three steps before falling, and the second and third blows had
been struck as he lay on the floor. Although it was evident that the
first blow alone was sufficient to cause death, the murderer had been
anxious to complete his work beyond any possibility of failure.
"The scene was most ghastly; George's body lay in a pool of blood, while
the desks, chairs, table and wall, were spattered with large drops which
had spirted out as the blows were struck. I shall never forget that
terrible morning, and sometimes I awake with a horrible choking
sensation, and think that I have just renewed the sickening experience
of that day.
"Well, I immediately suspected that the murder had been committed to
enable the murderer to rob the bank. I knew that George had no enemies
who would seek his life, and there could be no other object in killing
him inside the bank. The outer door of the vault stood slightly ajar,
and as soon as I had satisfied myself that my nephew was dead--as indeed
was evident, the body being quite cold--I sent my clerk to call Mr.
Rollo and Mr. Breed into the bank, while he remained at the door. I told
him to send any person whom he might see outside for the sheriff and the
coroner. As I was saying, the vault door stood slightly open, and when
the other gentleman joined me I called their attention to the position
of everything before I entered the vault. I found the keys in the lock
of the inner door, and on opening the latter we saw that everything
inside was in great confusion. Without making any examination, I closed
and locked both doors, and sealed the key-holes with tape and
sealing-wax. I determined to leave everything just as it was until the
inquest should be held. The sheriff and coroner soon arrived, and a jury
was impaneled immediately, as, by that time, the news had spread all
over town, and the bank was surrounded by nearly all the best men in the
place. In summoning the jury, the coroner put down for foreman the name
of Mr. Drysdale, George's most intimate friend, but it was found that he
was not in the crowd outside, and when they sent for him he begged so
hard to be excused that he was let off.
"The inquest was held in this room, but nothing was moved from the bank
except the body and the canceling hammer. The jury elicited nothing more
than what I have told you, and they therefore adjourned to await the
examination of our vault when Mr. McGregor and Mr. Bannatine returned,
in the hope that some clue might be found therein. I forgot to mention
that we found in George's hand a bill of the Planter's Bank of Georgia,
of the denomination of one hundred dollars. It was clutched tightly, and
he had fallen on that side, so that the murderer had not noticed it.
Here it is, partly stained with blood," and Mr. Gordon handed me a bank
note. He then continued:
"A messenger had been dispatched to inform Mr. Bannatine of the
disaster, and he arrived in town almost simultaneously with Mr.
McGregor, who was already on his way home when the murder occurred. As
Mr. Bannatine is well acquainted with all the subsequent events, I
prefer that he should give the account of our action since that time."
It was clearly very painful to Mr. Gordon to talk upon the subject of
his nephew's murder, and Mr. Bannatine willingly took up the thread of
the story. He had practiced at the bar so long that his style resembled
that of a witness under examination, and he was always careful to give
his authority whenever he stated facts outside of his own observation.
His testimony was of the greatest importance to me, and I took very full
notes as he went along.
_CHAPTER II._
I received the intelligence of George Gordon's murder about noon, by a
messenger from Mr. Gordon. I immediately rode into town and went to the
bank, where I arrived about two o'clock. The inquest was not completed,
but at the sheriff's suggestion the jury adjourned until the next
morning. The cause of death, according to the testimony of Dr. Hartman
and Dr. Larimore, was concussion of the brain, produced by three
separate blows on the back of the head; the blows might have been dealt
with the canceling hammer, which, Mr. Gordon said, had been found close
by the body. The latter was removed to the hotel preparatory to the
funeral.
"Mr. Gordon, Mr. McGregor, and myself then proceeded to open the bank,
taking the sheriff to assist us in searching for clues to aid in the
detection of the criminals. We first opened all the shutters to give as
much light as possible. We then examined the interior of the bank;
outside of the counter nothing whatever was found, but inside we
discovered several important traces of the murderer. The fireplace
showed that something had recently been burned in it. The grate had been
perfectly clean all summer, and Mr. Gordon tells me such was the case
when he left the bank at four o'clock. The character of the ashes--as I
am assured by expert chemists--denoted that clothing had been burned,
and while examining them I found several buttons; here they are," he
added, producing four or five iron buttons, and the charred remains of
two or three horn buttons.
"While feeling around in the light ashes beneath the grate," continued
Mr. Bannatine, "I found a piece of paper twisted up and charred at one
end; its appearance indicated that it had been used to light the fire in
the grate. On unrolling it carefully, it proved to be a fragment of a
note for $927.78; the signature, part of the date, and the amount of the
note were left uncharred, but most of the upper portion was wholly
burned. The signature was that of Alexander P. Drysdale, our esteemed
county clerk."
Mr. Bannatine here showed me this fragment pressed out between two
oblong pieces of heavy plate glass. I glanced at it a few minutes, and
then placed it beside the buttons for future examination.
"Among the few scraps of paper found," resumed Mr. Bannatine, "was
another one, which we found under George's body, saturated with blood.
The murderer had evidently destroyed every piece of paper that he could
find; but this one had probably been lying on the floor, and when George
fell, it was hidden by his body. This, and the note, were the only
papers found on the desks or about the floor of the bank which had any
writing upon them; even the waste paper baskets and their contents had
been burned. Here is the paper, Mr. Pinkerton; we have preserved it
carefully, because we thought that it might suggest something to a
detective, though it had no special significance to us."
He handed me the paper, as he spoke. It was a fragment of letter paper,
about three by six inches in size. It was stained a brownish red by poor
young Gordon's lifeblood; but beneath the stain, were plainly visible
the pen marks of the murdered man. It had a number of figures on one
side, arranged like examples in addition, though they were scattered
carelessly, as if he had been checking off balances, and had used this
fragment to verify his additions. The reverse side was blank. I laid
this paper beside the note, and Mr. Bannatine continued his story:
"We then opened the safe, and counted the money; this was easily done,
for we found that all the loose money was gone, leaving only a small
quantity of coin and a number of packages of bills. These latter were
put up in lots of five thousand dollars each, and were wrapped in a
bright red tissue paper. George had put up over one hundred thousand
dollars in this way, about a week before, and the murderer had not
touched these packages at all; we were thus spared a loss, which would
have somewhat crippled us. As it was, the loss in bills amounted to
about one hundred and five thousand dollars, while exactly twenty-eight
thousand dollars in gold eagles and double eagles, were also missing. A
few days after the murder, one of Col. Garnett's slaves found two
twenty-dollar gold pieces at an old fording place on Rocky Creek, just
outside the city, and we came to the conclusion that the robber had
dropped them there; but of course, we could not identify gold pieces,
and so we could not be sure. The coroner closed the inquest the
following day, and the jury found a verdict of death at the hands of a
person or persons unknown. The funeral was attended by people from
miles around, and there was a general determination shown to spare no
pains to bring the murderers to justice; large rewards were offered by
the Governor, by the bank, and by the county officials, and some of the
best detectives in the country were employed, but all to no purpose.
When the gold pieces were found, a number of George's intimate friends
organized a party to search the adjoining woods for traces of the
criminals, as it was thought they might have camped out in that
vicinity, before or after the deed. All of George's intimate friends
joined in the search, except Mr. Drysdale, who was so much overcome at
the terrible occurrence, that he was quite prostrated. Nothing was found
by this party, however; neither have the various detectives,
professional and amateur, who have investigated the case, made the
slightest progress toward a solution of the mystery. We have determined
to make one more effort, Mr. Pinkerton, and therefore we have sent for
you to aid us. It may be that you will see some trace which others have
overlooked; you can take whatever steps you choose, and you need spare
no expense. If you are successful, we will pay you liberally, besides
the rewards offered."
"One of the rules of my Agency," I replied, "forbids the acceptance of
rewards; hence, I wish it understood in advance, that my only charges
will be according to my regular schedule of prices, and that I expect
nothing more. This is my invariable custom, whether the case be one of
murder, arson, burglary, or simple theft; the number of detectives, and
the time they are employed, will determine the amount I shall charge."
We then arranged the financial portion of our agreement to our mutual
satisfaction, and I began my investigations.
"What detectives have you hitherto employed, Mr. Bannatine?" I asked.
"I first laid the matter before two New York detectives, who had been
highly recommended to me," he replied; "but they could offer no
satisfactory theory to work upon, and after staying here three or four
weeks, they said that the murder must have been committed by some member
of a gang of gamblers; they thought the murderer would probably go to
New Orleans to exchange his money, and that it would be easy to learn by
going to that city, whether any gambler had had an unusual amount of
money about that time. We were not very well satisfied with this theory,
and so the detectives returned to New York. We next engaged two
detectives from New Orleans, but they were equally unsuccessful. We then
allowed the matter to rest until about a month ago, when we heard such a
favorable account of the manner in which you had conducted a case of
great difficulty, that we began to discuss the propriety of engaging you
in investigating this affair. The more we heard of you, the better we
were satisfied, and finally, we authorized Mr. McGregor to write to you
on the subject."
"Well, Mr. Bannatine, I shall do my best," I replied, "but you must not
expect me to work miracles. Now, I am going to ask you a number of
questions, and I wish you to answer them without regard to their
apparent drift. Who were George Gordon's intimate friends?"
"Mr. Flanders, Mr. Drysdale, Mr. Patterson, and Mr. Henry Caruthers; I
think they were the only ones he was really very intimate with; isn't it
so, Mr. Gordon?"
"Yes; George had very few cronies," replied Mr. Gordon.
"Who is Mr. Caruthers?" I asked.
"He is the son of a wealthy planter living a few miles from town,"
replied Mr. Bannatine.
"Where was he the afternoon previous to the murder?"
"He came into the bank for a few minutes," said Mr. Gordon, "and asked
George to spend Sunday with him on the plantation; then he rode home."
"Were there any strange men in or about the bank that day?"
"None, so far as we could learn; nearly every person that I can
recollect having seen that day was a customer, or a townsman whom I
knew."
"When George gave up carrying the safe keys home with him, where did he
leave them?"
"There is a secret drawer in that desk, which opens by pressing this
knob, thus," said Mr. McGregor, suiting the action to the word; "we used
to keep the keys there."
"Did any one beside you four gentlemen know this hiding place?"
"I am sure that no one else knew it," said Mr. McGregor.
"Was it necessary for George to open the safe that night, or could he
have done his work without going into the vault at all?"
"He had work to do on the journal and ledger, and he would have to use
the keys to get them out of the vault. He did not need to open the
inner safe where the money was, however."
"Does the outer vault key open both doors?"
"No; but they were kept on the same chain for convenience."
"Were the ledger and journal on George's desk when you entered the bank,
Mr. Gordon?"
"No, sir; they were put away in their usual places in the vault."
"Did they show any marks of blood?"
"None at all; they were perfectly clean."
"Could you tell from their appearance whether George had done any work
upon them that night?"
"Yes; I am sure he had done a great deal; in fact he had finished up all
entries to date."
"Were there any papers missing besides the money?"
"Yes; one or two bundles of old checks, drafts, etc., were used to
assist in burning the murderer's clothes. They were fastened in packages
with fine wire, and we found the wire in the grate."
"Then this note, signed 'Alexander P. Drysdale,' might have been pulled
out of one of these packages?"
"I suppose so; I don't know where else it came from; do you, Mr.
McGregor?" said Mr. Gordon, rather bewildered.
"No; I never thought about where it came from," said Mr. McGregor. "I
suppose the man built a fire of old papers and the fragments of the
waste paper baskets, and then used that note to set them on fire from
the lamp."
"There were no papers of any value used, then?" I continued.
"Oh, no; the papers were old bundles, merely kept as archives of the
bank."
I then picked up the note and glanced at it; as I did so, something
caught my eye which sent the blood throbbing through my veins at a
feverish speed. Enough of the date remained to show that it was drawn
some time during the year of the murder, hence it could hardly be one of
the archives. Besides, a note, if paid, would be returned to the maker,
canceled; if unpaid, it would be kept among the bills receivable, in the
inner safe; in neither case could it have been stowed away among the old
checks and drafts. This reasoning passed through my mind quickly, and I
realized that that little piece of paper might play an important part in
the tragedy after all. I did not form any definite theory on the
instant, but still I had a sort of presentiment that I had touched a
spring which might open the windows of this dark mystery and let in the
light of day. I did not show what I thought to my companions, but
continued to ask questions.
"Was Mr. Patterson in the bank the day of the murder, Mr. Gordon?"
"Oh, no; he was not in this part of the country at that time; he had
been in Mobile for some weeks."
"I understood you to say that Mr. Flanders went no further than the
private door with George; did he notice any one standing about when he
came away?"
"No; he stopped only an instant, while George unlocked the door, and
then gave the jewel box to him to put away. George wished him good
night, with the remark that he could not ask him in, as he would be too
busy to entertain him. Mr. Flanders then came straight back to my store;
but he said at the inquest that he heard George lock the door behind
him, and that he saw no one around the building."
"Do you know anything about his circumstances at that time? Was he in
need of money?"
"No, indeed; he had a large balance to his credit. Why, surely, you do
not see any reason to suspect Mr. Flanders?" said Mr. McGregor.
"I don't say that I suspect anybody," I replied, "but I wish to gather
all the information possible. Now, please tell me how large a balance
Mr. Flanders had on deposit."
Mr. McGregor immediately examined the ledger for the previous year, and
reported that the balance due Mr. Flanders at the time of the murder,
was over twelve thousand dollars.
"You see, Mr. Pinkerton," he went on to say, "we balanced our books up
to that date, and thus we know just how each person's account stood that
day."
"Well, did you find that any of those gentlemen, who were in the habit
of entering the bank after business hours, were in debt to the bank, or
that they were cramped for money at that time?" I asked, carelessly.
"None of them were in debt to the bank, I know," replied Mr. McGregor;
"whether there were any of them in need of money particularly, I cannot
say."
"Had any of them tried to borrow from the bank recently?"
"No; in fact, none of them had drawn out the balances due them."
"Please give me a list of their balances on that day," I said; "just
give me a memorandum of the amounts standing to each one's credit."
"Whose accounts shall we give you?" asked Mr. McGregor, evidently
wondering what object I had in view.
"Well, let me have those of Mr. Flanders, Mr. Patterson, Mr. Drysdale,
and Mr. Caruthers; also, let me know whether any of those gentlemen had
made any loan from the bank during that year, and if so, the amount,
date, etc., and whether a note was given, or security of any kind."
Mr. McGregor, and the other two gentlemen, were completely mystified at
my request, but they complied with my wishes, and I noted down the
amounts given me in my note-book.
The balances were as follows: Patterson, $2,472.27; Drysdale, $324.22;
Caruthers, $817.48; and Flanders, $12,263.03. None of them had made
loans from the bank, except Caruthers, who had once overdrawn his
account nearly three hundred dollars, but he gave no note, as he was
good for any amount. None of the others had given a note to the bank, or
to any one else, so far as was known, for several years.
"Now, gentlemen," I said, "please take me into the bank and show me
exactly how the place appeared when Mr. Gordon first discovered that
George had been murdered."
Mr. Gordon rose with great effort and opened the door connecting the
private office with the main bank. It was evidently very painful to
him, but he did not shrink. Turning to me, he said:
"Mr. Pinkerton, let Mr. McGregor go first, and light the lamp; I will
then proceed just as I did that morning, and will point out the exact
position of everything in the bank."
Mr. McGregor accordingly lighted a large lamp, which threw a soft
radiance over the whole interior, and the two moved the furniture into
the position in which it had been found on that fatal morning. Mr.
Gordon then showed me the exact position of the body, the spot where the
paper lay, the canceling hammer, and the blood-marks. After I had been
shown everything, I stood and thought over the matter in connection with
the surroundings, and endeavored to re-enact the scene of the murder in
my own mind. Bit by bit, I brought out some of the surroundings to my
own satisfaction, and when I went back to the private office, I had a
well-defined theory in my mind. Not that I had so narrowed down my
suspicions, as to fix them upon any particular individual--I had not yet
gone so far--but my theory was fully established, and I felt sure that
by working it up carefully, I should soon discover some traces of the
guilty party. The officers of the bank followed me in silence, and on
resuming our seats, I said:
"Gentlemen, I wish to take a day to weigh the testimony in this case,
before I can give you any opinion about it. I would like to take this
note, the memorandum, and the buttons to my room, and to-morrow evening
I will tell you what conclusions I have reached. Is that satisfactory?"
"Certainly; we do not wish to proceed in haste, Mr. Pinkerton," said
Mr. Bannatine; "we will meet you then at the same hour to-morrow."
"I do not wish to seem impatient," said Mr. Gordon, "but can you not
tell me now whether you have obtained any clue from what we have told
you, which will enable you to learn more?"
Mr. Gordon's anxiety was so keen that I wished to relieve his mind
somewhat; but, on the other hand, I did not wish to raise his hopes
unnecessarily, lest some unforeseen thing might occur to overthrow my
theory entirely. I replied, therefore:
"Mr. Gordon, I may think I have a clue now, which, on mature reflection,
may prove worthless; hence, I should prefer to take a day, before giving
my opinion."
"You are right, Mr. Pinkerton," he said; "I should feel worse to have my
hopes raised, only to be dashed down again, than if I had never expected
anything. Take your own time, and then let us know the result."
"There are two questions more, which I would like answered," I said.
"Was it possible for any person to have entered the bank by force? That
is, were there any indications whatever, to show that the murderer might
have possibly gained entrance during George's absence at dinner?"
"No; none at all. The sheriff made a very careful examination of all the
windows, and both doors," replied Mr. McGregor. "He thought that a gang
of gamblers, who stopped here a few weeks, might have used nippers on
the key of the side door after George had locked it, and that they had
then stolen upon George, at his desk, and killed him; but, there were
no evidences that such was the case."
"Well, did any one, except you three gentlemen, know the private signal
by which those inside the bank could tell that the person at the door,
was one of the bank officers?"
"I am not sure about that," said Mr. Gordon; "possibly some of our
well-known friends might have been with us when we gained admittance to
the bank, but I cannot say that I think they ever learned the signal."
"You think, however, that Patterson, Drysdale, Flanders, or Caruthers,
_might_ have known it?"
"Yes; in fact, on thinking it over, I feel quite sure that Mr. Patterson
and Mr. Drysdale did know it."
"Well, I don't think I have any more questions to ask," I said. "I shall
be here promptly at eight o'clock to-morrow evening, and if you should
wish to communicate with me before that time, send me a message, and I
will call at the bank. This will not attract attention, as my business
is supposed to be cotton buying, and a visit at the bank will not be
considered unusual."
I then took charge of the papers, etc., and went to my room at the
hotel. I merely glanced at the buttons, and bank note, hastily, as I
knew they could serve only as corroboratory evidence in the event of
obtaining a weak chain of proof. I then turned to the note, which I
studied long and carefully. I was convinced that it was of recent date,
at the time of the murder, although only the last figure of the date was
visible. I finally looked over the blood-stained piece of paper, which
George had nearly covered with figures. I saw at a glance, that there
was no reading matter on it, but I began to go over his figures half
mechanically, mentally following his addition, to verify it.
Suddenly my eyes caught two numbers near the bottom of the paper. They
were placed together, and their difference was written below; they were
much fainter than the rest, having been made in pencil, instead of in
ink. It was probably due to this fact, that they had never been noticed
before, as the deep stain made it difficult to distinguish them clearly,
without close observation. However that may be, they acted upon me like
an electric shock, and I was obliged to walk about the room a few
minutes, to compose my nerves. It was strange that those faint lines
should have told so much, but it seemed almost, as if the murdered man
had whispered his murderer's name to me. The numbers which were there
set down were $927.78, and $324.22. _One of them was the amount of the
half burned note of Drysdale; the other, was the amount of his balance
in the bank._
I sat up until a very late hour, thinking over the possible solution of
the mystery, and when I finally went to bed, I had satisfied myself as
to the identity of the murderer. The next day, I rose late, and spent
the afternoon in arranging the points of evidence in consecutive order,
so as to be able to present them to the bank officials in the most
convincing manner. I then walked around town for exercise. During my
walk, I visited Mr. Flanders' jewelry store and the county clerk's
office.
Mr. Flanders was an elderly gentlemen of very mild and courteous
manners, and his whole appearance would lead any one to regard it as
impossible, that he should have committed murder.
Mr. Drysdale, the county clerk, was a fine looking man, of about forty
years of age. He was of the nervous, sanguine type; was quiet and
courteous, but haughty and reserved to strangers; he was looking thin
and weary, as if he worked too hard, and streaks of gray were just
visible in his hair and mustache.
I talked with him for about half an hour, representing that I was a
stranger, desirous of gaining information about the plantations of the
county. He answered my questions politely, but as briefly as possible,
and I saw that my presence, apparently, bored him, and interfered with
his duties. As I was about to go, I asked him to write the name and
address of some reliable cotton factor in my note-book, and he complied
very willingly. I then returned to the hotel, and patiently waited until
eight o'clock.
_CHAPTER III._
On going to the bank I found the three gentlemen awaiting me most
anxiously. After the usual greeting we seated ourselves at the table. I
arranged my notes for convenient reference, and began to state my
conclusions: