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ALLAN PINKERTON'S
GREAT DETECTIVE BOOKS.
1.--MOLLIE MAGUIRES AND DETECTIVES.
2.--STRIKERS, COMMUNISTS, AND DETECTIVES.
3.--CRIMINAL REMINISCENCES AND DETECTIVES.
4.--THE MODEL TOWN AND DETECTIVES.
5.--SPIRITUALISTS AND DETECTIVES.
6.--EXPRESSMAN AND DETECTIVE.
7.--THE SOMNAMBULIST AND DETECTIVES.
8.--CLAUDE MELNOTTE AS A DETECTIVE.
9.--MISSISSIPPI OUTLAWS AND DETECTIVES.
10.--GYPSIES AND DETECTIVES.
11.--BUCHOLZ AND DETECTIVES.
12.--THE RAIL ROAD FORGER AND DETECTIVES.
These wonderful Detective Stories by Allan Pinkerton are having an
unprecedented success. Their sale is fast approaching one hundred
thousand copies. "The interest which the reader feels from the outset
is intense and resistless; he is swept along by the narrative, held
by it, whether he will or no."
All beautifully illustrated, and published uniform with this volume.
Price $1.50 each. Sold by all booksellers, and sent _free_ by mail,
on receipt of price, by
G. W. CARLETON & CO., Publishers,
New York.
[Illustration: _The Arrival at South Norwalk._]
BUCHOLZ AND THE DETECTIVES.
BY
ALLAN PINKERTON,
AUTHOR OF "THE EXPRESSMAN AND THE DETECTIVE," "THE MODEL TOWN AND THE
DETECTIVES," "THE SPIRITUALISTS AND THE DETECTIVES," "THE MOLLIE
MAGUIRES AND THE DETECTIVES," "STRIKERS, COMMUNISTS, TRAMPS AND
DETECTIVES," "THE GYPSIES AND THE DETECTIVES," ETC., ETC., ETC.
NEW YORK:
_G. W. Carleton & Co., Publishers_,
MADISON SQUARE.
MDCCCLXXXII.
COPYRIGHT BY
ALLAN PINKERTON.
1880.
Stereotyped by
Samuel Stodder,
Electrotyper & Stereotyper,
90 Ann Street, N.Y.
Trow Printing and Book-Binding Co.
N.Y.
CONTENTS.
THE CRIME.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
The Arrival in South Norwalk.--The Purchase of the Farm.--A
Miser's Peculiarities, and the Villagers' Curiosity 17
CHAPTER II.
William Bucholz.--Life at Roton Hill.--A Visit to New York City 30
CHAPTER III.
An Alarm at the Farm House.--The Dreadful Announcement of William
Bucholz.--The Finding of the Murdered Man 39
CHAPTER IV.
The Excitement in the Village.--The Coroner's Investigation.--The
Secret Ambuscade 47
CHAPTER V.
The Hearing Before the Coroner.--Romantic Rumors and Vague
Suspicions.--An Unexpected Telegram.--Bucholz Suspected 56
CHAPTER VI.
The Miser's Wealth.--Over Fifty Thousand Dollars Stolen from the
Murdered Man.--A Strange Financial Transaction.--A Verdict, and
the Arrest of Bucholz 67
CHAPTER VII.
Bucholz in Prison.--Extravagant Habits, and Suspicious
Expenditures.--The German Consul Interests Himself.--Bucholz
Committed 78
CHAPTER VIII.
My Agency is Employed.--The Work of Detection Begun 87
THE HISTORY.
CHAPTER IX.
Dortmund.--Railroad Enterprise and Prospective Fortune.--Henry
Schulte's Love.--An Insult and Its Resentment.--An Oath of
Revenge 93
CHAPTER X.
A Curse, and Plans of Vengeance 109
CHAPTER XI.
A Moonlight Walk.--An Unexpected Meeting.--The Murder of Emerence
Bauer.--The Oath Fulfilled 115
CHAPTER XII.
The Search for the Missing Girl.--The Lover's Judgment.--Henry
Schulte's Grief.--The Genial Farmer Becomes the Grasping Miser 122
CHAPTER XIII.
Henry Schulte becomes the Owner of "Alten-Hagen."--Surprising
Increase in Wealth.--An Imagined Attack Upon His Life.--The Miser
Determines to Sail for America 131
CHAPTER XIV.
The Arrival in New York.--Frank Bruner Determines to Leave the
Service of His Master.--The Meeting of Frank Bruner and William
Bucholz 148
CHAPTER XV.
A History of William Bucholz.--An Abused Aunt who Disappoints His
Hopes.--A Change of Fortune.--The Soldier becomes a Farmer.--The
Voyage to New York 157
CHAPTER XVI.
Frank Leaves the Service of His Master.--A Bowery Concert
Saloon.--The Departure of Henry Schulte.--William Bucholz Enters
the Employ of the Old Gentleman 166
THE DETECTION.
CHAPTER XVII.
The Detective.--His Experience, and His Practice.--A Plan of
Detection Perfected.--The Work is Begun. 177
CHAPTER XVIII.
A Detective Reminiscence.--An Operation in Bridgeport in 1866.--The
Adams Express Robbery.--A Half Million of Dollars Stolen.--Capture
of the Thieves.--One of the Principals Turns State's
Evidence.--Conviction and Punishment 185
CHAPTER XIX.
The Jail at Bridgeport.--An Important Arrest.--Bucholz Finds a
Friend.--A Suspicious Character who Watches and Listens.--Bucholz
Relates his Story 205
CHAPTER XX.
Bucholz Passes a Sleepless Night.--An Important Discovery.--The
Finding of the Watch of the Murdered Man.--Edward Sommers Consoles
the Distressed Prisoner 218
CHAPTER XXI.
A Romantic Theory Dissipated.--The Fair Clara Becomes
communicative.--An Interview with the Bar Keeper of the "Crescent
Hotel" 226
CHAPTER XXII.
Sommers Suggests a Doubt of Bucholz's Innocence.--He
Employs Bucholz's Counsel to Effect his Release.--A
Visit from the State's Attorney.--A Difficulty,
and an Estrangement 233
CHAPTER XXIII.
The Reconciliation.--Bucholz makes an Important Revelation.--Sommers
Obtains his Liberty and Leaves the Jail 244
CHAPTER XXIV.
Sommers Returns to Bridgeport.--An Interview with Mr.
Bollman.--Sommers Allays the Suspicions of Bucholz's Attorney,
and Engages Him as his Own Counsel 252
CHAPTER XXV.
Sommers' Visit to South Norwalk.--He Makes the Acquaintance of Sadie
Waring.--A Successful Ruse.--Bucholz Confides to his Friend the
Hiding Place of the Murdered Man's Money 260
CHAPTER XXVI.
Edward Sommers as "The Detective."--A Visit to the Barn, and Part
of the Money Recovered.--The Detective makes Advances to the Counsel
for the Prisoner.--A Further Confidence of an Important Nature 270
CHAPTER XXVII.
A Midnight Visit to the Barn.--The Detective Wields a Shovel to
Some Advantage.--Fifty Thousand Dollars Found in the Earth.--A
Good Night's Work 284
CHAPTER XXVIII.
The Detective Manufactures Evidence for the Defense.--An Anonymous
Letter.--An Important Interview.--The Detective Triumphs Over
the Attorney 295
CHAPTER XXIX.
Bucholz Grows Skeptical and Doubtful.--A fruitless Search.--The
Murderer Involuntarily Reveals Himself 309
THE JUDGMENT.
CHAPTER XXX.
The Trial.--An Unexpected Witness.--A Convincing Story.--An Able
but Fruitless Defense.--A Verdict of Guilty.--The Triumph of
Justice 319
CHAPTER XXXI.
Another Chance for Life.--The Third Trial Granted.--A Final
Verdict, and a Just Punishment 338
PREFACE.
The following pages narrate a story of detective experience, which,
in many respects, is alike peculiar and interesting, and one which
evinces in a marked degree the correctness of one of the cardinal
principles of my detective system, viz.: "That crime can and must be
detected by the pure and honest heart obtaining a controlling power
over that of the criminal."
The history of the old man who, although in the possession of
unlimited wealth, leaves the shores of his native land to escape the
imagined dangers of assassination, and arrives in America, only to
meet his death--violent and mysterious--at the hands of a trusted
servant, is in all essential points a recital of actual events. While
it is true that in describing the early career of this man, the mind
may have roamed through the field of romance, yet the important
events which are related of him are based entirely upon information
authentically derived.
The strange operation of circumstances which brought these two men
together, although they had journeyed across the seas--each with no
knowledge of the existence of the other--to meet and to participate
in the sad drama of crime, is one of those realistic evidences of the
inscrutable operations of fate, which are of frequent occurrence in
daily life.
The system of detection which was adopted in this case, and which was
pursued to a successful termination, is not a new one in the annals
of criminal detection. From the inception of my career as a
detective, I have believed that crime is an element as foreign to the
human mind as a poisonous substance is to the body, and that by the
commission of a crime, the man or the woman so offending, weakens, in
a material degree, the mental and moral strength of their characters
and dispositions. Upon this weakness the intelligent detective must
bring to bear the force and influence of a superior, moral and
intellectual power, and then successful detection is assured.
The criminal, yielding to a natural impulse of human nature, must
seek for sympathy. His crime haunts him continually, and the burden
of concealment becomes at last too heavy to bear alone. It must find
a voice; and whether it be to the empty air in fitful dreamings, or
into the ears of a sympathetic friend--he must relieve himself of the
terrible secret which is bearing him down. Then it is that the
watchful detective may seize the criminal in his moment of weakness
and by his sympathy, and from the confidence he has engendered, he
will force from him the story of his crime.
That such a course was necessary to be pursued in this case will be
apparent to all. The suspected man had been precipitately arrested,
and no opportunity was afforded to watch his movements or to become
associated with him while he was at liberty. He was an inmate of a
prison when I assumed the task of his detection, and the course
pursued was the only one which afforded the slightest promise of
success; hence its adoption.
Severe moralists may question whether this course is a legitimate or
defensible one; but as long as crime exists, the necessity for
detection is apparent. That a murderous criminal should go unwhipt of
justice because the process of his detection is distasteful to the
high moral sensibilities of those to whom crime is, perhaps, a
stranger, is an argument at once puerile and absurd. The office of
the detective is to serve the ends of justice; to purge society of
the degrading influences of crime; and to protect the lives, the
property and the honor of the community at large; and in this
righteous work the end will unquestionably justify the means adopted
to secure the desired result.
That the means used in this case were justifiable the result has
proven. By no other course could the murderer of Henry Schulte have
been successfully punished or the money which he had stolen
recovered.
The detective, a gentleman of education and refinement, in the
interests of justice assumes the garb of the criminal; endures the
privations and restraints of imprisonment, and for weeks and months
associates with those who have defied the law, and have stained their
hands with blood; but in the end he emerges from the trying and fiery
ordeal through which he has passed triumphant. The law is vindicated,
and the criminal is punished.
Despite the warnings of his indefatigable counsel, and the fears
which they had implanted in his mind, the detective had gained a
control over the mind of the guilty man, which impelled him to
confess his crime and reveal the hiding place of the money which had
led to its commission.
That conviction has followed this man should be a subject of
congratulation to all law-abiding men and women; and if the fate of
this unhappy man, now condemned to long weary years of imprisonment,
shall result in deterring others from the commission of crime, surely
the operations of the detective have been more powerfully beneficial
to society than all the eloquence and nicely-balanced theories--incapable
of practical application--of the theoretical moralist, who doubts the
efficiency or the propriety of the manner in which this great result
has been accomplished.
ALLAN PINKERTON.
BUCHOLZ AND THE DETECTIVES.
THE CRIME.
CHAPTER I.
_The Arrival in South Norwalk._--_The Purchase of the Farm._--_A
Miser's Peculiarities, and the Villagers' Curiosity._
About a mile and a half from the city of South Norwalk, in the State
of Connecticut, rises an eminence known as Roton Hill. The situation
is beautiful and romantic in the extreme. Far away in the distance,
glistening in the bright sunshine of an August morning, roll the
green waters of Long Island Sound, bearing upon its broad bosom the
numerous vessels that ply between the City of New York and the
various towns and cities along the coast. The massive and luxurious
steamers and the little white-winged yachts, the tall "three-masters"
and the trim and gracefully-sailing schooners, are in full view. At
the base of the hill runs the New York and New Haven Railroad, with
its iron horse and long trains of cars, carrying their wealth of
freights and armies of passengers to all points in the East, while to
the left lies the town of South Norwalk--the spires of its churches
rising up into the blue sky, like monuments pointing heaven-ward--and
whose beautiful and capacious school-houses are filled with the
bright eyes and rosy faces of the youths who receive from competent
teachers the lessons that will prove so valuable in the time to come.
Various manufactories add to the wealth of the inhabitants, whose
luxurious homes and bright gardens are undoubted indications of
prosperity and domestic comfort. The placid river runs through the
town, which, with the heavy barges lying at the wharves, the
draw-bridges which span its shores, and the smaller crafts, which
afford amusement to the youthful fraternity, contribute to the
general picturesqueness of the scene.
The citizens, descended from good old revolutionary sires, possess
the sturdy ambitions, the indomitable will and the undoubted honor of
their ancestors, and, as is the case with all progressive American
towns, South Norwalk boasts of its daily journal, which furnishes the
latest intelligence of current events, proffers its opinions upon the
important questions of the day, and, like the _Sentinel_ of old,
stands immovable and unimpeachable between the people and any
attempted encroachment upon their rights.
On a beautiful, sunny day in August, 1878, there descended from the
train that came puffing up to the commodious station at South
Norwalk, an old man, apparently a German, accompanied by a much
younger one, evidently of the same nationality. The old gentleman was
not prepossessing in appearance, and seemed to be avoided by his
well-dressed fellow-passengers. He was a tall, smooth-faced man about
sixty years of age, but his broad shoulders and erect carriage gave
evidence of an amount of physical power and strength scarcely in
accord with his years. Nor was his appearance calculated to impress
the observer with favor. He wore a wretched-looking coat, and upon
his head a dingy, faded hat of foreign manufacture. His shoes showed
frequent patches, and looked very much as though their owner had
performed the duties of an amateur cobbler.
It was not a matter of wonder, therefore, that the round-faced Squire
shrugged his burly shoulders as the new-comer entered his office, or
that he was about to bestow upon the forlorn-looking old man some
trifling token of charity.
The old gentleman, however, was not an applicant for alms. He did not
deliver any stereotyped plea for assistance, nor did he recite a tale
of sorrow and suffering calculated to melt the obdurate heart of the
average listener to sympathy, and so with a wave of his hand he
declined the proffered coin, and stated the nature of his business.
The Squire soon discovered his error, for instead of asking for
charity, his visitor desired to make a purchase, and in place of
being a victim of necessity, he intended to become a land-owner in
that vicinity.
The young man who accompanied him, and who was dressed in clothing of
good quality and style, was discovered to be his servant, and the old
gentlemen, in a few words, completed a bargain in which thousands of
dollars were involved.
The blue eyes of the worthy Squire opened in amazement as the
supposed beggar, drawing forth a well-filled but much-worn leather
wallet, and taking from one of its dingy compartments the amount of
the purchase-money agreed upon, afforded the astonished magistrate a
glimpse of additional wealth of which the amount paid seemed but a
small fraction.
The land in question which thus so suddenly and strangely changed
hands was a farm of nearly thirty acres, situate upon Roton Hill, and
which had been offered for sale for some time previous, without
attracting the attention of an available purchaser. When, therefore,
the new-comer completed his arrangements in comparatively such few
words, and by the payment of the purchase-money in full, he so
completely surprised the people to whom the facts were speedily
related by the voluble Squire, that the miserably apparelled owner of
the "Hill," became at once an object of curiosity and interest.
A few days after this event, the old gentleman, whose name was
ascertained to be John Henry Schulte, formally entered into
possession of his land, and with his servants took up his abode at
Roton Hill.
The dwelling-house upon the estate was an unpretentious frame
building, with gable roof, whose white walls, with their proverbial
green painted window shutters overlooking the road, showed too
plainly the absence of that care and attention which is necessary for
comfort and essential to preservation. It was occupied at this time
by a family who had been tenants under the previous owner, and
arrangements were soon satisfactorily made by Henry Schulte by which
they were to continue their residence in the white farm-house upon
the "Hill."
This family consisted of a middle-aged man, whose name was Joseph
Waring, his wife and children--a son and two blooming daughters, and
as the family of Henry Schulte consisted only of himself and his
servant, the domestic arrangements were soon completed, and he became
domiciled at once upon the estate which he had purchased.
The young man who occupied the position as servant, or valet, to the
eccentric old gentleman, was a tall, broad-shouldered, fine-looking
young fellow, whose clear-cut features and prominent cheek-bones at
once pronounced him to be a German. His eyes were large, light blue
in color, and seemed capable of flashing with anger or melting with
affection; his complexion was clear and bright, but his mouth was
large and with an expression of sternness which detracted from the
pleasing expression of his face; while his teeth, which were somewhat
decayed, added to the unpleasing effect thus produced. He was,
however, rather a good-looking fellow, with the erect carriage and
jaunty air of the soldier, and it was a matter of surprise to many,
that a young man of his appearance should occupy so subservient a
position, and under such a singular master.
Such was William Bucholz, the servant of Henry Schulte.
Between master and man there appeared to exist a peculiar relation,
partaking, at times, more of the nature of a protector than the
servant, and in their frequent walks William Bucholz would invariably
be found striding on in advance, while his aged, but seemingly
robust, employer would follow silently and thoughtfully at a distance
of a few yards. At home, however, his position was more clearly
defined, and William became the humble valet and the nimble waiter.
The reserved disposition and retired habits of the master were
regarded as very eccentric by his neighbors, and furnished frequent
food for comment and speculation among the gossips which usually
abound in country villages--and not in this case without cause. His
manner of living was miserly and penurious in the extreme, and all
ideas of comfort seemed to be utterly disregarded.
The furniture of the room which he occupied was of the commonest
description, consisting of an iron bedstead, old and broken, which,
with its hard bed, scanty covering and inverted camp-stool for a
pillow, was painfully suggestive of discomfort and unrest. A large
chest, which was used as a receptacle for food; a small deal table,
and two or three unpainted chairs, completed the inventory of the
contents of the chamber in which the greater portion of his time was
passed when at home.
The adjoining chamber, which was occupied by Bucholz, was scarcely
more luxurious, except that some articles for toilet use were added
to the scanty and uninviting stock.
The supplies for his table were provided by himself, and prepared for
his consumption by Mrs. Waring. In this regard, also, the utmost
parsimony was evinced, and the daily fare consisted of the commonest
articles of diet that he was able to purchase. Salt meats and fish,
brown bread and cheese, seemed to be the staple articles of food. At
the expiration of every week, accompanied by William, he would
journey to South Norwalk, to purchase the necessary stores for the
following seven days, and he soon became well-known to the
shopkeepers for the niggardly manner of his dealings. Upon his return
his purchases would be carefully locked up in the strong box which he
kept in his room, and would be doled out regularly to the servant for
cooking in the apartments below, with a stinting exactness painfully
amusing to witness.
The only luxury which he allowed himself was a certain quantity of
Rhenish wine, of poor quality and unpleasant flavor, which was
partaken of by himself alone, and apparently very much enjoyed. At
his meals Bucholz was required to perform the duties of waiter;
arranging the cloth, carrying the food and dancing in constant
attendance--after which he would be permitted to partake of his own
repast, either with the family, who frequently invited him, and thus
saved expense, or in the chamber of his master.
Gossip in a country village travels fast and loses nothing in its
passage. Over many a friendly cup of tea did the matrons and maids
discuss the peculiarities of the wealthy and eccentric old man who
had so suddenly appeared among them, while the male portion of the
community speculated illimitably as to his history and his
possessions.
He was frequently met walking along the highway with his hands folded
behind his back, his head bent down, apparently in deep thought,
William in advance, and the master plodding slowly after him, and
many efforts were made to cultivate his acquaintance, but always
without success.
This evidence of an avoidance of conversation and refusal to make
acquaintances, instead of repressing a tendency to gossip, only
seemed to supply an opportunity for exaggeration, and speculation
largely supplied the want of fact in regard to his wealth and his
antecedents.
Entirely undisturbed by the many reports in circulation about him,
Henry Schulte pursued the isolated life he seemed to prefer, paying
no heed to the curious eyes that were bent upon him, and entirely
oblivious to the vast amount of interest which others evinced in his
welfare.
He was in the habit of making frequent journeys to the City of New
York alone, and on these occasions William would meet him upon his
return and the two would then pursue their lonely walk home.
One day upon reaching South Norwalk, after a visit to the metropolis,
he brought with him a large iron box which he immediately consigned
to the safe keeping of the bank located in the town, and this fact
furnished another and more important subject for conversation.
He had hitherto seemed to have no confidence in banking institutions
and trust companies, and preferred to be his own banker, carrying
large sums of money about his person which he was at no pains to
conceal, and so, as he continued this practice, and as his
possessions were seemingly increased by the portentous-looking iron
chest, the speculations as to his wealth became unbounded.
Many of the old gossips had no hesitancy in declaring that he was
none other than a foreign count or some other scion of nobility, who
had, no doubt, left his native land on account of some political
persecution, or that he had been expatriated by his government for
some offense which had gained for the old man that dreadful
punishment--royal disfavor.
Oblivious of all this, however, the innocent occasion of their
wonderment and speculation pursued his lonely way unheeding and
undisturbed.