_The Detective manufactures Evidence for the Defense._--_An Anonymous
Letter._--_An important Interview._--_The Detective triumphs over the
Attorney._
These events occurred during the latter part of May, and the trial
would not take place until early in September. It was necessary
therefore that the utmost secrecy should be observed in reference to
what had transpired, and especially so far as William Bucholz was
concerned.
The visits of Edward Sommers to the jail must be continued, and every
effort must be made to pierce through the dead wall of Bucholz's
silence and reserve in relation to the murder.
Hitherto when in their conversations the subject of the murder had
been mentioned, and Sommers would quietly hint at his complicity, the
other, with a shrug of his shoulders and a peculiar smile, would
abruptly change the conversation. His strong will and the constant
admonitions of his counsel had prevented him from revealing in any
manner the secret of his crime, and except for certain actions, small
in themselves, but speaking a "confirmation strong as holy writ," he
had given no sign that he was acquainted with the dreadful
circumstances, or had any knowledge of the affair other than had been
already related by him.
After arriving in Bridgeport, Sommers hastened to the jail and found
Bucholz impatiently awaiting his arrival. He was nervous and excited,
and his mind was troubled about the success of the enterprise upon
which Sommers had gone.
The news which the detective brought reassured him, however, and he
laughed gayly as he thought that his money was now safe from the
reach of any one but himself and his friend.
There was something so cold and brutal about this laugh of Bucholz
that caused the detective involuntarily to shudder as he gazed upon
him. Here between the narrow walls of a prison cell he stood face to
face with a man who had taken a human life, and who stood almost in
the awful presence of retributive justice, yet his laugh was as clear
and ringing, and his face as genial as though no trial awaited him
and no judgment was in store.
The sensitive nature of the detective recoiled from such close
contact with this crime-stained man, but his duty required it and he
performed it manfully and well.
He related to Bucholz his visit to the barn (omitting, of course, to
state who his companions were) and the finding of the money. As he
mentioned the discovery of the gold pieces, Bucholz exclaimed:
"Gold pieces! I cannot tell for the world how they got there. I don't
know anything about them."
It was evident that he had not examined this package prior to burying
it in the ground, and Sommers suggested the possibility of their
having been wrapped in the paper which enclosed the canvas-covered
book.
"You were very careless to put the money in such a place," continued
Sommers; "the notes were so rotten, I was almost afraid to handle
them."
"You mean," said Bucholz, with a laugh, "that Schulte was careless,
not me;" then starting up he walked backward and forward, exclaiming:
"My God, how careless I was!"
"Yes," replied Sommers, "after risking so much, you should have taken
better care of it."
Bucholz stopped in his walk, and facing his companion asked in a
manner that gave every evidence of insincerity,
"Do you think that I killed him?"
"I think you know something about it," replied Sommers, gazing
steadily into the eyes of his questioner. "Do you think if tramps had
killed him, they would have left twenty thousand dollars upon his
person?"
"Well," said Bucholz, laughing in a bewildered manner, and then, as
if taking comfort from the reflection and anxious to change the
conversation, "the money is all right, anyhow."
Yes, the money was, indeed, all right, but not in the sense he
deluded himself by believing.
They then discussed the various measures that were to be adopted in
order to deceive the officers of the State.
It was arranged that the two pocket-books should be thrown behind a
large rock that stood by the railroad track, directly opposite the
path which led through the woods and along which the old man and
himself were in the habit of traveling. Bucholz seemed over joyed at
this proposition, and with many flattering expressions complimented
his companion upon the wisdom of his suggestions. They would have
continued further, but the time had arrived for closing the jail, and
Sommers was compelled to take his departure.
Upon the occasion of his next visit he found a marked change in
William Bucholz. He appeared to be silent and depressed in spirits.
Horrible dreams had visited his fitful slumbers, and the accusing
voice of the murdered man had rung in his ears during the solemn
watches of the night. The pallid, blood-stained face of Henry Schulte
had appeared to him, and his conscience had been an active producer
of unrest and terror. Try as he would, that awful presence followed
him, and he found sleep to be an impossibility. Hollow-eyed and sad,
he greeted the detective, and as he cordially shook him by the hand,
he noticed that a spasm of pain crossed the face of the prisoner.
"What is the matter, William?" he anxiously inquired. "Have you seen
a ghost?"
"Oh, no," replied the other, with a shiver--"it is nothing, only a
little cold, I guess."
The quick eye of the detective could not be deceived--something had
occurred of more than usual import, and he was determined to
ascertain what it was. Pressing him closely, Bucholz admitted, with a
forced smile, that on the day before, he had been reading Schiller's
play of "The Robbers," and that becoming excited by the heroic action
of "Carl von Moor," he had thoughtlessly plunged his penknife, which
he had in his hand at the time, into his own side. The blade had
touched a rib, however, and that prevented the wound from being very
serious. The blood had flowed copiously from the incision thus made,
and the wound was even now very painful.
Sommers, at a glance, saw through this flimsy pretext, and realized
at once what had happened. The miserable man, nervous and excited,
had, in the excess of fear, attempted to take his own life. The grim
specters of the night were too horrible to endure, and he had sought
to escape their torments by the act which he had attempted.
His shirt had been saturated with blood, and he had been compelled to
destroy it to prevent detection.
Sommers lectured him roundly upon this exhibition of weakness, and,
after a time spent in friendly advice, he succeeded in reassuring
him.
Bucholz related to him at this interview a dream which he said he had
the evening before. He had seen the court assembled--the room was
filled with people and his trial was going on. Then, stopping
suddenly in his narration, he gazed wildly at his companion, and
exclaimed:
"If you are a detective, you have made a nice catch this time. But,
you see I have a steady hand yet, and if you were to take the stand
against me, I would rise in my place and denounce you to the court.
Then I would plunge a knife into my heart."
The detective looked unflinchingly and scornfully into the glaring
eyes of the man before him, and laughed lightly at his ravings. He
resolved, however, in order to prevent accidents, that every
precaution should be taken against the occurrence of such a scene.
He had no fear that Bucholz would do what he threatened. At heart he
knew the man to be a coward. No one who could stealthily creep behind
his unsuspecting victim and deal the deadly blow of an assassin
could, in his opinion, possess the moral courage to face a death by
his own hands, and particularly after the failure of this first
attempt.
He did not communicate this opinion to the prisoner, but he treated
the subject in a jesting manner, and told him that if he heard any
more of such nonsense he would inform the prison authorities and his
liberty would be curtailed.
He then proceeded to unfold a plan which he had concocted for the
relief of his friend, and to manufacture evidence that would bear an
important part in the coming trial.
He would procure an old shirt and a pair of pantaloons, which he
would first stain with blood, and would then bury them in the ground
near to the scene of the murder, and would then write an anonymous
letter to the State's attorney and to the counsel for Bucholz,
informing them of the place where they could be found.
The prisoner eagerly accepted this suggestion. He seemed to forget
his pain, his fears and his suspicions as he listened, and when
Sommers had concluded he laughed heartily, then he added, hurriedly:
"You must get an axe also, and bury that with the clothes; that
was----"
He stopped abruptly, as though afraid of saying too much, and Sommers
looked inquiringly into his face.
"How would it do to get the axe from the barn?" he asked; "the one
that had blood on it when it was found."
"That was chickens' blood," quickly replied Bucholz, "and it will not
do. No, you must get an old axe from some other place and bury it
with the clothes."
Sommers promised to comply with all these things, and on leaving the
prisoner for that day his frame of mind had considerably improved,
and thoughts of a suspicious character were entirely dissipated.
The anonymous letters were soon prepared, and it was arranged that
they should be sent to San Francisco, Cal., and be remailed from
there to Mr. Olmstead and to the counsel for William Bucholz.
I experienced no difficulty in arranging this, as I have
correspondents in almost every town and city in the United States;
and the letters were upon the way to that distant Western city in a
few days.
The letter was as follows:
"FRISCO, AUG., '79.
"I AM NOW OUT OF REACH OF JUSTICE, AND WILL NOT SUFFER THAT A
INNOCENT MAN IS HELT FOR THE MURTER OF SCHULTE, AND VILL NOW
STADE WERE THE CLOTHES AND BOCKET BOOKS WERE TROWN. U MAY FIND
MORE BY SEARGEN THE GROUND, ABOUT TWO HUNDRED YARDS FROM WHERE
SCHULTE WAS KILLED THERE IS A STONE FENCE RUNNING N. AND S. AND
ONE RUNNING W., WERE THESE FENCES JOIN THERE IS A TREE CUT DOWN,
AND U FIND BETWEEN THE STONES, AND IN THE GROUND SOMETHING THAT
WILL SURPRISE U. I HOPE THIS WILL SAVE THE LIFE OF A INNOCENT
MAN.
"NAMELESS."
It was printed in capitals and purposely misspelled, in order to
convey the impression that the writer was a foreigner, and perhaps a
tramp--many of which had infested that neighborhood.
This letter pleased Bucholz immensely. It was, in his opinion, a
wonderful production, and must certainly result in deceiving the
State's attorney.
Mr. Bollman had now returned from Germany, and his errand had been
entirely successful. He had seen the relatives of Bucholz, and they
had promised to aid him financially in his trouble. Further than
this, they seemed to take no great interest in his welfare. Shortly
after his arrival a draft was received, which, upon being cashed,
placed in the hands of the prisoner sufficient moneys to enable him
to secure the services of the additional counsel who had been loath
to act energetically in the matter, until the question of
remuneration had been definitely and satisfactorily settled.
In order to recover the amount loaned to Bucholz for Mr. Bollman's
expenses, Sommers suggested that in order to avoid any suspicion, he
would demand of him the return of the same, and which he would inform
Mr. Bollman his friend was greatly in need of.
Mr. Bollman thereupon repaid two hundred and fifty dollars of the
amount loaned, and Bucholz executed another due-bill for the sum of
one hundred dollars, payable to Edward Sommers.
Shortly after this occurrence Bucholz informed Sommers on the
occasion of one of his visits that on the day previous he had been
visited by two of his attorneys.
They had labored assiduously to induce him to confess as to the
relations existing between himself and Sommers. They told him that if
he had made any revelations to him it might not yet be too late to
counteract it, but if he refused to tell them the truth in regard to
the matter they could not and would not be answerable for the
consequences. General Smith graphically portrayed to him the effects
which would follow a failure to confide entirely in his counsel, and
Bucholz's frame shook perceptibly as he pictured the doom which would
certainly follow if his attorneys had been deceived.
But all their arguments were of no avail. He remained firm, and
protested to the last that Sommers knew nothing about his case. The
iron will upheld him during this ordeal, and the influence which the
detective had gained over him had been of such a character as to
outweigh the solicitations of those to whom he ought to look for
relief on the trial that was now fast approaching.
How far again the question of self-interest may have induced this
action cannot be ascertained. Bucholz had been led to believe that if
he communicated the existence of the money which he had secured, to
his lawyers, and if they should succeed in obtaining control of it,
his portion would be very small indeed, after they had paid
themselves therefrom.
This idea may have been of sufficient weight to compel his silence,
but the result--whatever the cause--proved that the detective had
achieved a victory over the attorneys, and that he wielded an
influence over their guilty client which they could never hope to
possess.