have given it much thought. Aside from the importance of the interests
involved, there are other reasons which render me cautious in forming
and stating an opinion; other detectives of ability and experience have
been baffled; several months have elapsed since the crimes were
committed; and, lastly, the theory upon which I have reasoned has led me
in such a direction that nothing but the strongest conviction in my own
mind would warrant me in making the statement which I am now about to
give you. Let me first, then, review the case, and show the chain of
evidence as it appears to me:
"George Gordon appears to have been a young man of more than average
ability as a bank officer; he was cautious in his habits, and at this
particular time he had recently been specially cautioned by Mr.
McGregor; consequently it is likely that he would have been unusually
careful to admit only those with whom he was very well acquainted.
Again, the position of the furniture and the appearance of the
blood-marks, show that George was standing at his desk, and that he was
struck from behind. Now, he had finished his work on the books and put
them away. What, then, was he doing? There is but one thing which throws
any light upon this subject--the bank bill which you found in his hand.
From its presence I infer that he was engaged in handling money; indeed,
I may say that he must have been either receiving it or paying it out.
That he was receiving it is not likely, for the murderer was probably
short of funds; hence I conclude that he was paying it out. It is also
clear that the amount must have been large, as shown by the denomination
of the bill--one hundred dollars.
"These facts and inferences lead me to believe that the murderer was a
personal friend of George, and a customer of the bank; and I may say
that I had reached this conclusion yesterday evening, while listening to
the testimony of you three gentlemen, before I had discovered any
corroborative evidence. I will now give some of the additional points
which I have brought out since then; but I wish that you would first
tell me whether this signature is genuine," I said, pointing to
Alexander P. Drysdale's name on the note.
"Oh, yes; there is no doubt of that," said Mr. McGregor; "I am perfectly
familiar with his signature, and there is no question in my mind but
that he signed that himself."
"Well, gentlemen, I will now make up a possible case, and you can see
how nearly it compares with the present matter. I will suppose that a
man of wealth, refinement, and position, should become cramped for money
to supply present necessities; he is intimate with the officers of a
wealthy bank; he goes there one evening and is admitted by his friend,
the acting cashier. He explains his embarrassment, and his friend agrees
to lend him the amount which he requires. The friend completes his work,
puts away his books, and figures up the amount needed. The borrower has
a small balance to his credit, and he gives a note for the difference.
Then the teller opens the safe, brings out a roll of bills, and begins
to count out the amount. The safe door is left open, and the visitor
sees within the piles of bank-notes and the rouleaux of gold. A fortune
in cash is within his grasp with only a human life standing in his way;
his perplexities and embarrassments come upon him with added force as he
sees the means before him by which he may escape their power to annoy
him. Like Tantalus, dying of thirst with the water at his very lips,
this man gazes on the wealth piled up in that safe. Glancing around, he
sees his friend slowly counting the paltry hundreds he is to receive;
close by lies a heavy weapon, heretofore used for innocent business
purposes; another glance into the safe and insanity is upon him; his
brain is a perfect hell of contending passions; again the thought
flashes into his mind--'Only a life between me and that money.' He
seizes the heavy hammer and deals his victim a terrible blow behind the
ear; as the latter falls lifeless, the murderer strikes him twice more
to make sure that there shall be no witnesses to testify in the case.
The deed is done, and there remains nothing to prevent him from seizing
the contents of the safe. But first, he must protect himself from the
danger of discovery; to this end he carefully removes his bloody
clothing, gathers every vestige of paper within sight, and breaks up
the waste paper baskets for fuel. He needs more flame, however, and he
takes several packages of old papers to make the fire fiercer; then his
eye falls on a slip of paper lying on the desk, and he twists it
nervously into a lighter to convey fire from the lamp to the mass of
material in the fire-place. The flame is started, and soon the clothes
are reduced to ashes. Stealthily he packs the packages of bills and the
rolls of coin, and when he has taken as much as he can carry, he slips
noiselessly away, leaving no trace of his identity. No one has seen him
enter or depart; his position is far above the reach of suspicion; every
clue has been destroyed in the fire-place, and no witness to his guilt
can possibly be raised up. So he thinks; and as month after month
passes, as detective after detective abandons the case in despair, as
the excitement dies out in the public mind, and as the friends of the
deceased apparently give up the hopeless task of seeking for the
murderer, his confidence becomes complete, and he no longer fears
detection.
"But stop! when his victim fell a bloody corpse at his feet, _was_ every
witness destroyed? No, gentlemen; helpless and lifeless as that body
fell, it yet had the power to avenge itself. The right hand convulsively
grasps a bank note, and it is hidden from sight by the position assumed
in falling; a slip of white paper dotted with figures at random, is also
covered, and is quickly saturated with blood; a fragment of paper is
found below the grate, twisted so tightly as to have burned only in
part; lastly, the direction of the blood-spirts show that the first blow
was struck on the left side. Now, gentlemen, do you think you can read
the testimony of these dumb witnesses?"
"My God! I do not know what to think," said Mr. Gordon.
"I see where your suspicions lead," said Mr. Bannatine, "but I do not
yet fully know whether I can see the evidence in the same light that you
do. Please go on and tell us all you suspect, and your reasons."
"Yes, Mr. Pinkerton," said Mr. McGregor, "whom do you suspect?"
"Gentlemen," I replied, solemnly, "I have formed no hasty conclusion in
this matter, and I should not accuse any man without the strongest
reasons for believing him guilty; but I think that when I have connected
together the links which I have gathered, you will agree with me in the
moral certainty that George Gordon was murdered by Alexander P.
Drysdale, and no other."
"Go on, go on, Mr. Pinkerton," said Mr. Gordon, in great excitement. "It
seems impossible, yet there are some slight fancies in my mind which
seem to confirm that theory. Tell us all your conclusions, and how you
have arrived at them."
"Well, first, I am satisfied that only a particular friend would have
been admitted to the bank by George that night; second, the blow was
struck from behind, on the left side, showing that the murderer was
probably left-handed. Mr. Drysdale satisfies both of these conditions; I
visited him to-day and saw him write an address in my note-book with his
left hand. Third, I have here a note for $927.78, signed 'Alexander P.
Drysdale;' the signature, you say, is genuine, and further, you told me
yesterday that you had not held a note of Mr. Drysdale's for some
years. On reflection you will see that this note could not have been
taken from the packages of bank archives which were burned, for it never
could have been put there; moreover it is dated '1856,' and must have
been made some time last year. As you have no record of such a note, I
infer that it was drawn the night of the murder. Fourthly, I have
conclusive evidence of that fact in this slip of blood-stained paper,"
and so saying, I produced the slip upon which George had done his
figuring.
"How! where!" exclaimed my listeners.
"Near the bottom of that paper you will find in light pencil marks three
numbers arranged like an example in subtraction, while the rest are all
additions in ink. The figures are: first, 1,252.00; then, 324.22; and
927.78 below the line. Mr. Drysdale's balance was $324.22, and the
amount of this note bearing his signature is $927.78. It looks to me as
if he wanted to draw $1,252.00, and that George subtracted the amount of
his balance in bank, $324.22, from the amount he wished to draw,
$1,252.00, and that Mr. Drysdale then gave his note for the difference,
$927.78. What do you think of my witness, gentlemen?"
The three gentlemen put their heads together over the paper long enough
to convince themselves that the figures were really there, and then they
resumed their seats in silence. I had watched their faces carefully as I
drew my conclusions, and had seen their expressions change from
incredulity to uncertainty, then to amazement, finally turning
gradually to half belief; but when they sat down, positive conviction
was evident in every face.
"How is it possible that these facts were never discovered before?"
ejaculated Mr. Bannatine.
"It is very simple," I replied; "the search has hitherto been conducted
on a wrong basis. The whole endeavor seems to have been to _guess_ who
might have done the deed, and then to find evidence to convict him. My
plan in all similar cases is, to first examine the evidence before me,
with a perfectly unbiased mind; then, having formed a theory by
reasoning on general principles, as applied to the facts in my
possession, I proceed to look about for some person who will answer the
conditions of my theory. I may find more than one, and I then am obliged
to make each such person the object of my attention until I obtain
convincing proof of his innocence or guilt. The person upon whom my
theory causes suspicion to fall, may have been hitherto regarded as
above suspicion; but, that fact does not deter me in the least degree
from placing that person's circumstances, motives, and actions under the
microscope, so to speak; for experience and observation, have taught me
that the most difficult crimes to fix upon the criminal, are those which
have been committed by men whose previous reputation had been unspotted.
Now, you have never connected Mr. Drysdale with this affair, because it
has never entered your minds to suspect him; but, had you gone over the
ground in the same manner that I have done, you would have been led to
the same conclusion. This is the real point, where the services of an
experienced detective, are most valuable. The plan by which a detective
operation is to be conducted, is as important as the method of
procedure. To find a man who is hiding from justice, his criminality
being well known, is a task of little difficulty, compared with the
labor involved in mysterious cases, where there is apparently, nothing
left to identify the criminal. I claim no special credit in this case,
since the clues have proven more numerous than had been supposed, but I
have given you my idea of the proper way to conduct an investigation,
simply to show you how I am accustomed to work. Let me now ask, whether
any of you have doubts, as to the propriety of putting my detectives
upon the trail of Mr. Drysdale, to determine the extent of his
connection, if any, in the murder of George Gordon?"
"None whatever," said Mr. Bannatine, emphatically; "it seems almost
impossible that he should be guilty; but, in the face of the strong
array of accusing circumstances cited by you, Mr. Pinkerton, I can only
say: 'Go on with your work in your own way.' The innocent have nothing
to fear, and the guilty deserve no mercy."
"Amen," said both the other gentlemen.
"What is your plan?" asked Mr. Gordon.
"Well, gentlemen," I replied, "I have been struck with some strong
points of resemblance between Drysdale and one of Bulwer's characters,
Eugene Aram. You are aware, that the only evidence we can bring against
Drysdale, is circumstantial, and that we could hardly obtain an
indictment on the strength of it; still less a conviction for murder.
Besides, there is a large amount of money at stake, and it is desirable
to recover that money, as well as to convict the murderer. We must
proceed, therefore, with great caution, lest we defeat our own plans by
premature action. I have arranged a scheme to obtain a direct proof of
Drysdale's guilt, and with your consent, I will put it in operation
immediately."
I then gave the details of my plan, and the gentlemen, though somewhat
nervous as to the result, finally acquiesced in it.
The next morning, I left Atkinson, for Chicago, where I duly arrived,
somewhat improved in health, by my Southern trip. I immediately sent for
Timothy Webster, one of my most expert detectives, to whom I gave full
charge of the case in Atkinson. I explained to him all the circumstances
connected with it, and instructed him in the plan I had arranged. Mrs.
Kate Warne, and a young man named Green, were assigned to assist
Webster, and all the necessary disguises and clothing, were prepared at
short notice.
Mrs. Warne was the first lady whom I had ever employed, and this was one
of the earliest operations in which she was engaged. As a detective, she
had no superior, and she was a lady of such refinement, tact, and
discretion, that I never hesitated to entrust to her some of my most
difficult undertakings.
It will be understood by the reader, that each detective made daily
reports to me, and that I constantly directed the operation by mail or
telegraph. This has always been my invariable custom, and no important
steps are ever taken without my order, unless circumstances should occur
which would not admit the delay.
_CHAPTER IV._
About a week after my departure from Atkinson, a gentleman arrived there
by the evening train, and went to the hotel. He was an intelligent,
shrewd, agreeable business man, about thirty-five years old, and he
impressed all who made his acquaintance, as a gentleman of ability and
energy. He signed the register, as 'John M. Andrews, Baltimore,' and the
landlord soon learned from him that he had come to Atkinson to reside
permanently, if he could get into business there. Mr. Andrews was
evidently a man of considerable wealth, though he made no ostentatious
display, nor did he talk about his property as though he cared to
impress upon other people the idea that he was rich. Still, it came to
be generally understood, in a few days, that he had made quite a
fortune, as a cotton broker, in Baltimore, and that he had a
considerable sum in cash to invest, when a desirable opportunity should
offer. This fact, together with his agreeable manners, made his society
quite an acquisition to the town, and he was soon on familiar terms with
all the regular boarders in the hotel, and with many prominent residents
of the place.
Some days after Mr. Andrews arrived the hotel received another equally
popular guest. She gave her name, as Mrs. R. C. Potter, and her object
in visiting Atkinson, was to improve her health. She was accompanied by
her father, Mr. C. B. Rowell, a fine looking, white-haired old
gentleman, but he remained only long enough to see her comfortably
settled, and then returned to their home in Jacksonville, Florida, as
his business required his immediate presence there. Mrs. Potter was a
distinguished looking brunette; she was a widow with no children, and
she might have passed for thirty years of age. She was tall and
graceful, and her entertaining conversation made her a general favorite
among the ladies in the hotel. She was not an invalid, strictly
speaking, but the family physician had recommended that she should go to
the dry air of northern Mississippi for a few months, to escape the
rainy, foggy weather of Florida at that season.
About a week after her arrival, she went out with two other ladies, Mrs.
Townsend and Mrs. Richter, to explore the beauties of Rocky Creek. They
spent a pleasant afternoon in the wooded ravines, and it was after five
o'clock, before they returned. As they sauntered down one of the
pleasantest streets of the town, they noticed a lady standing at the
gate of an elegant residence, with large grounds.
"Oh! there is Mrs. Drysdale," said Mrs. Townsend. "Have you met her, Mrs.
Potter?"
"Not yet, though I have heard of her so frequently, that I feel almost
as if I knew her."
"Well, I think you will like each other very much," said Mrs. Richter,
"and we will introduce you to her."
On reaching the gate, therefore, the ladies presented Mrs. Potter in due
form.
"I have been intending to call on you, Mrs. Potter," said Mrs.
Drysdale, "but my youngest child has not been well, and I have not gone
anywhere for several weeks. In fact, I am quite a home body at all
times, and I always expect my friends to waive ceremony, and visit me a
great deal more than I visit them. I hope you will not wait for me, Mrs.
Potter, for my domestic affairs keep me very busy just now; I shall be
glad to see you any time that you feel like dropping in."
"I shall be very glad to dispense with formalities," answered Mrs.
Potter, "and you can depend upon seeing me soon."
After some further conversation, the three ladies resumed their homeward
walk, leaving Mrs. Drysdale still waiting for her husband. He was soon
seen by the ladies, rapidly walking up the street toward his home. He
was on the opposite side, so that he merely bowed to them, and hastened
on.
"There seems to have been quite a change in Mr. Drysdale during the last
year," said Mrs. Richter. "My husband was speaking of it the other day.
He said that Drysdale was becoming really unsociable. I hope he is not
growing dissipated, for the sake of his wife, who is a lovely woman."
"Yes; she seems to be a most devoted wife and mother," said Mrs. Potter.
"Possibly, the change in Mr. Drysdale, is due to business troubles."
"Oh, no; that is impossible," said Mrs. Townsend; "he is very wealthy
indeed, and as he is not engaged in any regular business, he cannot be
financially embarrassed. No, I attribute his recent peculiarities, to
religious doubts; he has not been to church since last fall."
"Is it as long as that?" asked Mrs. Richter.
"Yes; I recollect it, because he did not go to the funeral of poor
George Gordon, and he has not attended service since then."
"Well, if he really is in religious trouble, the minister ought to visit
him and give him advice," said Mrs. Richter.
As they walked toward the hotel, they turned the conversation into a
different channel without reaching any conclusion as to the cause of Mr.
Drysdale's eccentricities.
A few days thereafter Mrs. Potter called upon Mrs. Drysdale and passed
the afternoon very pleasantly. When Mr. Drysdale came home he was very
polite and agreeable; he seemed glad to find his wife enjoying herself,
and when Mrs. Potter rose to go, both husband and wife urged her warmly
to come frequently.
"I am going out to my plantation in a day or two," said Mr. Drysdale,
"and I hope you will visit my wife while I am gone, as I am afraid she
may be lonesome."
"Who are you going with?" asked Mrs. Drysdale.
"There is a gentleman from Baltimore, staying at the hotel," replied Mr.
Drysdale, "and he talks of investing some money in land, so I thought I
would take him out to see Bristed's old place next to mine. It is going
to ruin now, but if a man like Mr. Andrews would take it, he could make
it pay. He seems very intelligent and agreeable; I suppose you have met
him, Mrs. Potter?"
"Oh, yes; he was introduced to me the first week I was here," replied
Mrs. Potter. "He seems to me to be a Southern gentleman with a good deal
of real Yankee shrewdness."
"That is my opinion, also," said Mr. Drysdale, "and if he buys
Bristed's place, he will join me in some improvements which are much
needed."
"Well, good afternoon, Mrs. Drysdale," said Mrs. Potter; "I am going out
horseback riding in a day or two, and perhaps I will stop here a few
minutes on my way back."
"Do so, Mrs. Potter; we shall be delighted to see you. Good afternoon."
On Mrs. Potter's return to the hotel, she stayed in the parlor for some
time, and as Mr. Andrews came in soon after, they had a pleasant
_tete-a-tete_ before going to dinner.
The next morning Mr. Andrews went out to get a cabinet-maker to make a
small book-case for his room, and the hotel clerk directed him to the
shop of Mr. Breed. The latter said that he was very busy, indeed, but
that he could get a young man who was boarding with him to do the job.
"Is he a good workman?" asked Mr. Andrews.
"I think he is," replied Breed, "though I am not sure, as he came here
only day before yesterday from Memphis. He has served his time at the
trade, however, and he ought to be able to make a book-case neatly."
"Well, send him over, Mr. Breed, and I will give him a trial. By the
way, who was that gentleman that just passed? I have seen him several
times, but have never met him in society."
"That was Mr. Peter A. Gordon," said Breed. "He boards at the hotel,
also, but he rarely mingles with other men except in business."
"I am surprised at that," Mr. Andrews remarked, "for he appears like a
naturally genial man; yet he has a very sad look."
"Yes; he has never recovered from the shock of his nephew's murder last
fall; he always used to be very sociable and hospitable, but now he
seems too much cast down to care for society. You may have heard of the
dreadful manner in which young George Gordon was murdered?"
"Oh, yes; I recollect," said Mr. Andrews, "the circumstances were
related to me soon after I arrived here. George Gordon seems to have
been a fine young fellow, and I don't wonder the old gentleman mourns
his loss."
"He was one of the most promising young men I ever knew," said Mr. Breed
warmly: "and speaking of poor George, reminds me that I noticed a strong
resemblance to him in this young workman boarding with me. Ordinarily I
would not have perceived it, but yesterday he slipped on a coat of mine,
which was just like the one George used to wear, and the likeness was
remarkable."
"You were one of the first at the bank the day after the murder, were
you not, Mr. Breed?"
"Yes; and it was a dreadful sight. It was wonderful how Mr. Peter Gordon
retained his presence of mind; he did not break down until he found that
there was no hope of discovering the murderer."
"Was no one ever suspected?" asked Mr. Andrews.
"Oh, yes; several persons were arrested--gamblers and loafers--but they
all proved their innocence conclusively."
Mr. Andrews showed considerable interest in the murder, and Mr. Breed
related all that was known about it. When he was about to go, Mr.
Andrews said:
"Well, it is a very mysterious affair, and I am not surprised that Mr.
Gordon is so dejected; that horrible scene must be always before him. By
the way, don't let your young man dress in gray, when he comes to my
room; I should be continually haunted with a suspicion that it was a
ghost."
"Please don't speak of that to any one," said Mr. Breed, confidentially;
"I ought not to have mentioned it myself, for young Green was frightened
nearly out of his wits about it. As I said before, when he wears his
every-day clothes, no one would notice any special resemblance, but in
that particular style of dress, the likeness was really alarming. He was
so scared, that in future, he will take great care not to be seen in any
clothes like those of poor George."
"Of course, I shall not mention the matter," said Mr. Andrews; "send him
over this afternoon."
_CHAPTER V._
On leaving Mr. Breed, Mr. Andrews paid a visit to Mr. Drysdale, at the
latter's office.
"I hope I shall not interfere with your work, Mr. Drysdale," he said. "I
am an idler for the present, but I try to respect the business hours of
others, and so, if I disturb you, let me know it."
"Oh! not at all, I assure you," said Mr. Drysdale, warmly. "I am never
very busy, and just now, there is nothing whatever to do. Indeed, I wish
I had more to do--this lack of steady work wears upon me. I need
something to keep my mind constantly occupied."