

E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Martin Pettit, and the Project Gutenberg
Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)



Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
      file which includes the original illustrations.
      See 22155-h.htm or 22155-h.zip:
      (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/2/1/5/22155/22155-h/22155-h.htm)
      or
      (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/2/1/5/22155/22155-h.zip)





Allan Pinkerton's Detective Stories.


[Illustration: THE ROBBER.]


THE EXPRESSMAN AND THE DETECTIVE.

by

ALLAN PINKERTON.

Fifteenth Thousand.







Chicago:
W. B. Keen, Cooke & Co.,
113 and 115 State Street.
1875.

Copyright,
W. B. Keen, Cooke & Co.,
A. D. 1874.

The Lakeside Press.




PREFACE.


During the greater portion of a very busy life, I have been actively
engaged in the profession of a Detective, and hence have been brought in
contact with many men, and have been an interested participant in many
exciting occurrences.

The narration of some of the most interesting of these events, happening
in connection with my professional labors, is the realization of a
pleasure I have long anticipated, and is the fulfillment of promises
repeatedly made to numerous friends in by gone days.


               "THE EXPRESSMAN AND THE DETECTIVE,"


and the other works announced by my publishers, are all _true stories_,
transcribed from the Records in my offices. If there be any incidental
embellishment, it is so slight that the actors in these scenes from the
drama of life would never themselves detect it; and if the incidents
seem to the reader at all marvelous or improbable, I can but remind him,
in the words of the old adage, that "Truth is stranger than fiction."

                                               ALLAN PINKERTON.
CHICAGO, October, 1874.




PUBLISHERS' NOTICE.


The present Volume is the first of a series of Mr. Allan Pinkerton's
thrilling and beautifully written

                         DETECTIVE STORIES,

all true to life--founded upon incidents in the experience of the great
chief of all detectives.

At intervals the following will appear:


     "CLAUDE MELNOTTE AS A DETECTIVE."

     "THE TWO SISTERS AND THE AVENGER."

     "THE FRENCHMAN AND THE BILLS OF EXCHANGE."

     "THE MURDERER AND THE FORTUNE TELLER."

     "THE MODEL TOWN AND ITS DETECTIVE."


That these Volumes will meet with a cordial reception we have no doubt.

                                        W. B. KEEN, COOKE & CO.




ILLUSTRATIONS.


I. Frontispiece--THE ROBBER.

II. At this inopportune moment Simon gave way to his oars, and
left the poor deputy hanging in the air.                        pp. 40

III. "Yah! yah! yah!" roared both the <DW54>s; "you don't
know Mother Binks! Why, she keeps the finest gals on all
the riber."                                                    page 69

IV. As he gaily entered the gallery, twirling his handsome cane,
he was welcomed by a pleasant smile from a young lady, an
octoroon.                                                      page 73

V. Cox and his friends joined in having a good time at the
tinker's expense, and pronounced him "the prince of good
fellows."                                                      page 86

VI. Franklin gave his orders, and the delicious bivalves were soon
smoking before them. * * * He kept the alderman in such roars of
laughter that he could scarcely swallow his oysters.          page 125

VII. "You are my prisoner!" said he. "Nathan Maroney, I
demand that you immediately deliver to me fifty thousand dollars,
the property of the Adams' Express Co."                       page 131

VIII. On and on he plunged through the darkness, following
the sound of the hoofs and wheels. At times he felt that he
must give up and drop by the way; but he forced the feeling
back and plunged on with the determination of winning.        page 145

IX. "Wal, stranger, whar yar bound?" was his first salutation.
Roch looked at him in a bewildered way and then said,
"Nichts verstehe!"                                            page 158

X. Mrs. Maroney looked him full in the face with flashing eyes,
clenched her little hand, and in a voice hoarse from passion,
exclaimed: "What do you want here, you scoundrel?"            page 190

XI. In a second, Mrs. Maroney grasped a pitcher and smashed
it over Josh.'s skull.                                        page 222

XII. Raising the dead animal by its caudal appendage, he
angrily exclaimed, "That's my dog!"                           page 226

XIII. As he stood outside of the counter, I was enabled to call
off all the packages on the way-bill, but dropped the four containing
the forty thousand dollars under the counter.                 page 237

XIV. The peddler lifted his satchel into the buggy; the Madam
hurriedly emptied it of its contents, and holding it open
jammed the bundle of money into it, and handed it back to
the peddler.                                                  page 268




THE EXPRESSMAN AND THE DETECTIVE.




_CHAPTER I._


Montgomery, Alabama, is beautifully situated on the Alabama river, near
the centre of the State. Its situation at the head of navigation, on the
Alabama river, its connection by rail with important points, and the
rich agricultural country with which it is surrounded, make it a great
commercial centre, and the second city in the State as regards wealth
and population. It is the capital, and consequently learned men and
great politicians flock to it, giving it a society of the highest rank,
and making it the social centre of the State.

From 1858 to 1860, the time of which I treat in the present work, the
South was in a most prosperous condition. "Cotton was king," and
millions of dollars were poured into the country for its purchase, and a
fair share of this money found its way to Montgomery.

When the Alabama planters had gathered their crops of cotton, tobacco,
rice, etc., they sent them to Montgomery to be sold, and placed the
proceeds on deposit in its banks. During their busy season, while
overseeing the labor of their slaves, they were almost entirely debarred
from the society of any but their own families; but when the crops were
gathered they went with their families to Montgomery, where they gave
themselves up to enjoyment, spending their money in a most lavish
manner.

There were several good hotels in the city and they were always filled
to overflowing with the wealth and beauty of the South.

The Adams Express Company had a monopoly of the express business of the
South, and had established its agencies at all points with which there
was communication by rail, steam or stage. They handled all the money
sent to the South for the purchase of produce, or remitted to the North
in payment of merchandise. Moreover, as they did all the express
business for the banks, besides moving an immense amount of freight, it
is evident that their business was enormous.

At all points of importance, where there were diverging routes of
communication, the company had established principal agencies, at which
all through freight and the money pouches were delivered by the
messengers. The agents at these points were selected with the greatest
care, and were always considered men above reproach. Montgomery being a
great centre of trade was made the western terminus of one of the
express routes, Atlanta being the eastern. The messengers who had charge
of the express matter between these two points were each provided with
a safe and with a pouch. The latter was to contain only such packages as
were to go over the whole route, consisting of money or other valuables.
The messenger was not furnished with a key to the pouch, but it was
handed to him locked by the agent at one end of the route to be
delivered in the same condition to the agent at the other end.

The safe was intended for way packages, and of it the messenger of
course had a key. The pouch was carried in the safe, each being
protected by a lock of peculiar construction.

The Montgomery office in 1858, and for some years previous, had been in
charge of Nathan Maroney, and he had made himself one of the most
popular agents in the company's employ.

He was married, and with his wife and one daughter, had pleasant
quarters at the Exchange Hotel, one of the best houses in the city. He
possessed all the qualifications which make a popular man. He had a
genial, hearty manner, which endeared him to the open, hospitable
inhabitants of Montgomery, so that he was "hail fellow, well met," with
most of its populace. He possessed great executive ability and hence
managed the affairs of his office in a very satisfactory manner. The
promptness with which he discharged his duties had won for him the
well-merited esteem of the officers of the company, and he was in a fair
way of attaining a still higher position. His greatest weakness--if it
may be so called--was a love for fast horses, which often threw him into
the company of betting men.

On the morning of the twenty-sixth of April, 1858, the messenger from
Atlanta arrived in Montgomery, placed his safe in the office as usual,
and when Maroney came in, turned over to him the through pouch.

Maroney unlocked the pouch and compared it with the way-bill, when he
discovered a package of four thousand seven hundred and fifty dollars
for a party in Montgomery which was not down on the way-bill. About a
week after this occurrence, advice was received that a package
containing ten thousand dollars in bills of the Planters' and Mechanics'
Bank of Charleston, S. C., had been sent to Columbus, Ga., via the Adams
Express, but the person to whom it was directed had not received it.
Inquiries were at once instituted, when it was discovered that it had
been missent, and forwarded to Atlanta, instead of Macon. At Atlanta it
was recollected that this package, together with one for Montgomery, for
four thousand seven hundred and fifty dollars, had been received on
Sunday, the twenty-fifth of April, and had been sent on to Montgomery,
whence the Columbus package could be forwarded the next day. Here all
trace of the missing package was lost. Maroney stated positively that he
had not received it, and the messenger was equally positive that the
pouch had been delivered to Maroney in the same order in which he
received it from the Atlanta agent.

The officers of the company were completely at a loss. It was discovered
beyond a doubt that the package had been sent from Atlanta. The
messenger who received it bore an excellent character, and the company
could not believe him guilty of the theft. The lock of the pouch was
examined and found in perfect order, so that it evidently had not been
tampered with. The messenger was positive that he had not left the safe
open when he went out of the car, and there was no sign of the lock's
having been forced.

The more the case was investigated, the more directly did suspicion
point to Maroney, but as his integrity had always been unquestioned, no
one now was willing to admit the possibility of his guilt. However, as
no decided action in the matter could be taken, it was determined to say
nothing, but to have the movements of Maroney and other suspected
parties closely watched.

For this purpose various detectives were employed; one a local detective
of Montgomery, named McGibony; others from New Orleans, Philadelphia,
Mobile, and New York. After a long investigation these parties had to
give up the case as hopeless, all concluding that Maroney was an
innocent man. Among the detectives, however was one from New York,
Robert Boyer, by name, an old and favorite officer of Mr. Matsell when
he was chief of the New York police. He had made a long and tedious
examination and finding nothing definite as to what had become of the
money, had turned his attention to discovering the antecedents of
Maroney, but found nothing positively suspicious in his life previous to
his entering the employ of the company. He discovered that Maroney was
the son of a physician, and that he was born in the town of Rome, Ga.

Here I would remark that the number of titled men one meets in the South
is astonishing. Every man, if he is not a doctor, a lawyer, or a
clergyman, has some military title--nothing lower than captain being
admissible. Of these self-imposed titles they are very jealous, and woe
be to the man who neglects to address them in the proper form. Captain
is the general title, and is applied indiscriminately to the captain of
a steamer, or to the deck hand on his vessel.

Maroney remained in Rome until he became a young man, when he emigrated
to Texas. On the breaking out of the Mexican war he joined a company of
Texan Rangers, and distinguished himself in a number of battles. At the
close of the war he settled in Montgomery, in the year 1851, or 1852,
and was employed by Hampton & Co., owners of a line of stages, to act as
their agent. On leaving this position, he was made treasurer of Johnson
& May's circus, remaining with the company until it was disbanded in
consequence of the pecuniary difficulties of the proprietors--caused, it
was alleged, through Maroney's embezzlement of the funds, though this
allegation proved false, and he remained for many years on terms of
intimacy with one of the partners, a resident of Montgomery. When the
company disbanded he obtained a situation as conductor on a railroad in
Tennessee, and was afterwards made Assistant Superintendent, which
position he resigned to take the agency of the Adams Express Company, in
Montgomery. His whole life seemed spotless up to the time of the
mysterious disappearance of the ten thousand dollars.

In the fall of the year, Maroney obtained leave of absence, and made a
trip to the North, visiting the principal cities of the East, and also
of the Northwest. He was followed on this trip, but nothing was
discovered, with the single exception that his associates were not
always such as were desirable in an employe, to whose keeping very heavy
interests were from time to time necessarily committed. He was lost
sight of at Richmond, Va., for a few days, and was supposed by the man
who was following him, to have passed the time in Charleston.

The company now gave up all hope of recovering the money; but as
Maroney's habits were expensive, and they had lost, somewhat, their
confidence in him, they determined to remove him and place some less
objectionable person in his place.

Maroney's passion for fine horses has already been alluded to. It was
stated about this time that he owned several fast horses; among others,
"Yankee Mary," a horse for which he was said to have paid two thousand
five hundred dollars; but as he had brought seven thousand five hundred
dollars with him when he entered the employ of the company, this could
not be considered a suspicious circumstance.

It having been determined to remove Maroney, the Vice-President of the
company wrote to the Superintendent of the Southern Division of the
steps he wished taken. The Superintendent of the Southern Division
visited Montgomery on the twentieth of January, 1859, but was
anticipated in the matter of carrying out his instructions, by Maroney's
tendering his resignation. The resignation was accepted, but the
superintendent requested him to continue in charge of the office until
his successor should arrive.

This he consented to do.




_CHAPTER II._


Previous to Maroney's trip to the North, Mr. Boyer held a consultation
with the Vice-President and General Superintendent of the company. He
freely admitted his inability to fathom the mystery surrounding the loss
of the money, and thought the officers of the company did Maroney a
great injustice in supposing him guilty of the theft. He said he knew of
only one man who could bring out the robbery, and he was living in
Chicago.

Pinkerton was the name of the man he referred to. He had established an
agency in Chicago, and was doing a large business. He (Boyer) had every
confidence in his integrity and ability, which was more than he could
say of the majority of detectives, and recommended the Vice-President to
have him come down and look into the case.

This ended the case for most of the detectives. One by one they had gone
away, and nothing had been developed by them. The Vice-President, still
anxious to see if anything could be done, wrote a long and full
statement of the robbery and sent it to me, with the request that I
would give my opinion on it.

I was much surprised when I received the letter, as I had not the
slightest idea who the Vice-President was, and knew very little about
the Adams Express, as, at that time, they had no office in the West.

I, however, sat down and read it over very carefully, and, on finishing
it, determined to make a point in the case if I possibly could. I
reviewed the whole of the Vice-President's letter, debating every
circumstance connected with the robbery, and finally ended my
consideration of the subject with the firm conviction that the robbery
had been committed either by the agent, Maroney, or by the messenger,
and I was rather inclined to give the blame to Maroney.

The letter was a very long one, but one of which I have always been
proud. Having formed my opinion, I wrote to the Vice-President,
explained to him the ground on which I based my conclusions, and
recommended that they keep Maroney in their employ, and have a strict
watch maintained over his actions.

After sending my letter, I could do nothing until the Vice-President
replied, which I expected he would do in a few days; but I heard nothing
more of the affair for a long time, and had almost entirely forgotten
it, when I received a telegraphic dispatch from him, sent from
Montgomery, and worded about as follows:


     "ALLAN PINKERTON: Can you send me a man--half horse and half
     alligator? I have got 'bit' once more! When can you send him?"


The dispatch came late Saturday night, and I retired to my private
office to think the matter over. The dispatch gave me no information
from which I could draw any conclusions. No mention was made of how the
robbery was committed, or of the amount stolen. I had not received any
further information of the ten thousand dollar robbery. How had they
settled that? It was hard to decide what kind of a man to send! I wanted
to send the very best, and would gladly go myself, but did not know
whether the robbery was important enough to demand my personal
attention.

I did not know what kind of men the officers of the company were, or
whether they would be willing to reward a person properly for his
exertions in their behalf.

At that time I had no office in New York, and knew nothing of the
ramifications of the company. Besides, I did not know how I would be
received in the South. I had held my anti-slavery principles too long to
give them up. They had been bred in my bones, and it was impossible to
eradicate them. I was always stubborn, and in any circumstances would
never abandon principles I had once adopted.

Slavery was in full blossom, and an anti-slavery man could do nothing in
the South. As I had always been a man somewhat after the John Brown
stamp, aiding slaves to escape, or keeping them employed, and running
them into Canada when in danger, I did not think it would do for me to
make a trip to Montgomery.

I did not know what steps had already been taken in the case, or whether
the loss was a heavy one. From the Vice-President's saying he wanted a
man "half horse, half alligator," I supposed he wanted a man who could
at least affiliate readily with the inhabitants of the South.

But what class was he to mix with? Did he want a man to mix with the
rough element, or to pass among gentlemen? I could select from my force
any class of man he could wish. But what _did he wish_?

I was unaware of who had recommended me to the Vice-President, as at
that time I had not been informed that my old friend Boyer had spoken so
well of me. What answer should I make to the dispatch? It must be
answered immediately!

These thoughts followed each other in rapid succession as I held the
dispatch before me.

I finally settled on Porter as the proper man to send, and immediately
telegraphed the Vice-President, informing him that Porter would start
for Montgomery by the first train. I then sent for Porter and gave him
what few instructions I could. I told him the little I knew of the case,
and that I should have to rely greatly on his tact and discretion.

Up to that time I had never done any business for the Adams Express, and
as their business was well worth having, I was determined to win.

He was to go to Montgomery and get thoroughly acquainted with the town
and its surroundings; and as my suspicions had become aroused as to the
integrity of the agent, Maroney, he was to form his acquaintance, and
frequent the saloons and livery stables of the town, the
Vice-President's letter having made me aware of Maroney's inclination
for fast horses. He was to keep his own counsel, and, above all things,
not let it become known that he was from the North, but to hail from
Richmond, Va., thus securing for himself a good footing with the
inhabitants. He was also to dress in the Southern style; to supply me
with full reports describing the town and its surroundings, the manners
and customs of its people, all he saw or heard about Maroney, the
messengers and other employes of the company; whether Maroney was
married, and, if so, any suspicious circumstances in regard to his wife
as well as himself--in fact, to keep me fully informed of all that
occurred. I should have to rely on his discretion until his reports were
received; but then I could direct him how to act. I also instructed him
to obey all orders from the Vice-President, and to be as obliging as
possible.

Having given him his instructions, I started him off on the first train,
giving him a letter of introduction to the Vice-President. On Porter's
arriving in Montgomery he sent me particulars of the case, from which I
learned that while Maroney was temporarily filling the position of
agent, among other packages sent to the Montgomery office, on the
twenty-seventh of January, 1859, were four containing, in the aggregate,
forty thousand dollars, of which one, of two thousand five hundred
dollars, was to be sent to Charleston, S. C., and the other three, of
thirty thousand, five thousand, and two thousand five hundred
respectively, were intended for Augusta. These were receipted for by
Maroney, and placed in the vault to be sent off the next day. On the
twenty-eighth the pouch was given to the messenger, Mr. Chase, and by
him taken to Atlanta. When the pouch was opened, it was found that none
of these packages were in it, although they were entered on the way-bill
which accompanied the pouch, and were duly checked off. The poor
messenger was thunder-struck, and for a time acted like an idiot,
plunging his hand into the vacant pouch over and over again, and
staring vacantly at the way-bill. The Assistant Superintendent of the
Southern Division was in the Atlanta office when the loss was
discovered, and at once telegraphed to Maroney for an explanation.
Receiving no reply before the train started for Montgomery, he got
aboard and went directly there. On his arrival he went to the office and
saw Maroney, who said he knew nothing at all of the matter. He had
delivered the packages to the messenger, had his receipt for them, and
of course could not be expected to keep track of them when out of his
possession.

Before Mr. Hall, the route agent, left Atlanta he had examined the pouch
carefully, but could find no marks of its having been tampered with. He
had immediately telegraphed to another officer of the company, who was
at Augusta, and advised him of what had happened. The evening after the
discovery of the loss the pouch was brought back by the messenger from
Atlanta, who delivered it to Maroney.

Maroney took out the packages, compared them with the way-bill, and,
finding them all right, he threw down the pouch and placed the packages
in the vault.

In a few moments he came out, and going over to where Mr. Hall was
standing, near where he had laid down the pouch, he picked it up and
proceeded to examine it. He suddenly exclaimed, "Why, it's cut!" and
handed it over to Mr. Hall. Mr. Hall, on examination, found two cuts at
right angles to each other, made in the side of the pouch and under the
pocket which is fastened on the outside, to contain the way-bill.

On Sunday the General Superintendent arrived in Montgomery, when a
strict investigation was made, but nothing definite was discovered, and
the affair seemed surrounded by an impenetrable veil of mystery. It was,
however, discovered that on the day the missing packages were claimed to
have been sent away, there were several rather unusual incidents in the
conduct of Maroney.

After consultation with Mr. Hall and others, the General Superintendent
determined that the affair should not be allowed to rest, as was the ten
thousand dollar robbery, and had Maroney arrested, charged with stealing
the forty thousand dollars.

The robbery of so large an amount caused great excitement in Montgomery.
The legislature was in session, and the city was crowded with senators,
representatives and visitors. Everywhere, on the streets, in the
saloons, in private families, and at the hotels, the great robbery of
the Express Company was the universal topic of conversation. Maroney had
become such a favorite that nearly all the citizens sympathized with
him, and in unmeasured terms censured the company for having him
arrested. They claimed that it was another instance of the persecution
of a poor man by a powerful corporation, to cover the carelessness of
those high in authority, and thus turn the blame on some innocent
person.

Maroney was taken before Justice Holtzclaw, and gave the bail which was
required--forty thousand dollars--for his appearance for examination a
few days later; prominent citizens of the town actually vieing with one
another for an opportunity to sign his bail-bond.

At the examination the Company presented such a weak case that the bail
was reduced to four thousand dollars, and Maroney was bound over in
that amount to appear for trial at the next session of the circuit
court, to be held in June. The evidence was such that there was little
prospect of his conviction on the charge unless the company could
procure additional evidence by the time the trial was to come off.

It was the desire of the company to make such inquiries, and generally
pursue such a course as would demonstrate the guilt or the possible
innocence of the accused. It was absolutely necessary for their own
preservation to show that depredations upon them could not be committed
with impunity. They offered a reward of ten thousand dollars for the
recovery of the money, promptly made good the loss of the parties who
had entrusted the several amounts to their charge, and looked around to
select such persons to assist them as would be most likely to secure
success. The amount was large enough to warrant the expenditure of a
considerable sum in its recovery, and the beneficial influence following
the conviction of the guilty party would be ample return for any outlay
securing that object. The General Superintendent therefore telegraphed
to me, as before related, requesting me to send a man to work up the
case.




_CHAPTER III._


Mr. Porter had a very rough journey to Montgomery, and was delayed some
days on the road. It was in the depth of winter, and in the North the
roads were blockaded with snow, while in the South there was constant
rain. The rivers were flooded, carrying away the bridges and washing out
the embankments of the railroads, very much impeding travel.

On his arrival in Montgomery he saw the General Superintendent and
presented his letter. He received from him the particulars of the forty
thousand dollar robbery, and immediately reported them to me.

The General Superintendent directed him to watch--"shadow" as we call
it--the movements of Maroney, find out who were his companions, and what
saloons he frequented.

Porter executed his duties faithfully, and reported to me that
Montgomery was decidedly a fast town; that the Exchange Hotel, where
Maroney boarded, was kept by Mr. Floyd, former proprietor of the Briggs
House, Chicago, and, although not the leading house of the town, was
very much liked, as it was well conducted.

From the meagre reports I had received I found I had to cope with no
ordinary man, but one who was very popular, while I was a poor nameless
individual, with a profession which most people were inclined to look
down upon with contempt. I however did not flinch from the undertaking,
but wrote to Porter to do all he could, and at the same time wrote to
the General Superintendent, suggesting the propriety of sending another
man, who should keep in the background and "spot" Maroney and his wife,
or their friends, so that if any one of them should leave town he could
follow him, leaving Porter in Montgomery, to keep track of the parties
there.

There were, of course, a number of suspicious characters in a town of
the size of Montgomery, and it was necessary to keep watch of many of
them.

Maroney frequented a saloon kept by a man whom I will call Patterson.
Patterson's saloon was the fashionable drinking resort of Montgomery,
and was frequented by all the fast men in town. Although outwardly a
very quiet, respectable place, inwardly, as Porter found, it was far
from reputable. Up stairs were private rooms, in which gentlemen met to
have a quiet game of poker; while down stairs could be found the
greenhorn, just "roped in," and being swindled, at _three card monte_.
There were, also, rooms where the "young bloods" of the town--as well as
the old--could meet ladies of easy virtue. It was frequented by fast men
from New Orleans, Mobile, and other places, who were continually
arriving and departing.

I advised the General Superintendent that it would be best to have
Porter get in with the "bloods" of the town, make himself acquainted
with any ladies Maroney or his wife might be familiar with, and adopt
generally the character of a fast man.

As soon as the General Superintendent received my letter he telegraphed
to me to send the second man, and also requested me to meet him, at a
certain date, in New York.

I now glanced over my force to see who was the best person to select for
a "shadow". Porter had been promoted by me to be a sort of "roper".

Most people may suppose that nearly any one can perform the duties of a
"shadow", and that it is the easiest thing in the world to follow up a
man; but such is not the case. A "shadow" has a most difficult position
to maintain. It will not do to follow a person on the opposite side of
the street, or close behind him, and when he stops to speak to a friend
stop also; or if a person goes into a saloon, or store, pop in after
him, stand staring till he goes out, and then follow him again. Of
course such a "shadow" would be detected in fifteen minutes. Such are
not the actions of the real "shadow", or, at least, of the "shadow"
furnished by my establishment.

I had just the man for the place, in Mr. Roch, who could follow a person
for any length of time, and never be discovered.

Having settled on Roch as the proper man for the position, I summoned
him to my private office. Roch was a German. He was about forty-five
years old, of spare appearance and rather sallow or tanned complexion.
His nose was long, thin and peaked, eyes clear but heavy looking, and
hair dark. He was slightly bald, and though he stooped a little, was
five feet ten inches in height. He had been in my employ for many years,
and I knew him thoroughly, and could trust him.

I informed him of the duties he was to perform, and gave him minute
instructions how he was to act. He was to keep out of sight as much as
possible in Montgomery. Porter would manage to see him on his arrival,
unknown to any one there, and would point out to him Maroney and his
wife, and the messenger, Chase, who boarded at the Exchange; also
Patterson, the saloon keeper, and all suspected parties. He was not to
make himself known to Floyd, of the Exchange, or to McGibony, the local
detective. I had also given Porter similar instructions. I suggested to
him the propriety of lodging at some low boarding house where liquor was
sold.

He was to keep me fully posted by letter of the movements of all
suspected parties, and if any of them left town to follow them and
immediately inform me by telegraph who they were and where they were
going, so that I could fill his place in Montgomery.

Having given him his instructions, I selected for his disguise a German
dress. This I readily procured from my extensive wardrobe, which I keep
well supplied by frequent attendance at sales of old articles.

When he had rigged himself up in his long German coat, his German cap
with the peak behind, and a most approved pair of emigrant boots, he
presented himself to me with his long German pipe in his mouth, and I
must say I was much pleased with his disguise, in which his own mother
would not have recognized him. He was as fine a specimen of a Dutchman
as could be found.

Having thoroughly impressed on his mind the importance of the case and
my determination to win the esteem of the company by ferreting out the
thief, if possible, I started him for Montgomery, where he arrived in
due time.

At the date agreed upon I went to New York to meet the General
Superintendent. I had never met the gentlemen of the company and I was a
little puzzled how to act with them.

I met the Vice-President at the express office, in such a manner that
none of the employes were the wiser as to my profession or business, and
he made an appointment to meet me at the Astor House in the afternoon.
At the Astor House he introduced me to the President, the General
Superintendent of the company, and we immediately proceeded to business.

They gave me all the particulars of the case they could, though they
were not much fuller than those I had already received from Porter's
reports. They reviewed the life of Maroney, as already related, up to
the time he became their agent, stating that he was married, although
his marriage seemed somewhat "mixed".

As far as they could find out, Mrs. Maroney was a widow, with one
daughter, Flora Irvin, who was about seven or eight years old. Mrs.
Maroney was from a very respectable family, now living in Philadelphia
or its environs. She was reported to have run away from home with a
roue, whose acquaintance she had formed, but who soon deserted her.
Afterwards she led the life of a fast woman at Charleston, New Orleans,
Augusta, Ga., and Mobile, at which latter place she met Maroney, and was
supposed to have been married to him.

After Maroney was appointed agent in Montgomery he brought her with
him, took a suite of rooms at the Exchange, and introduced her as his
wife.

On account of these circumstances the General Superintendent did not
wish to meet her, and, when in Montgomery, always took rooms at another
hotel.

The Vice-President said he had nearly come to the conclusion that
Maroney was not guilty of the ten thousand dollar robbery; but when my
letter reached him, with my comments on the robbery, he became convinced
that _he was_ the guilty party.

He was strengthened in this opinion by the actions of Maroney while on
his Northern tour, and by the fact that immediately on his return the
fast mare "Yankee Mary" made her appearance in Montgomery and that
Maroney backed her heavily. It was not known that he was her owner, it
being generally reported that Patterson and other fast men were her
proprietors.

This was all the Vice-President and General Superintendent had been able
to discover while South, and they were aware that I had very little
ground on which to work.

I listened to all they had to say on the subject and took full memoranda
of the facts. I then stated that although Maroney had evidently planned
and carried out the robbery with such consummate ability that he had not
left the slightest clue by which he could be detected, still, if they
would only give me plenty of time, I would bring the robbery home to
him.

I maintained, as a cardinal principle, that it is impossible for the
human mind to retain a secret. All history proves that no one can hug a
secret to his breast and live. Everyone must have a vent for his
feelings. It is impossible to keep them always penned up.

This is especially noticeable in persons who have committed criminal
acts. They always find it necessary to select some one in whom they can
confide and to whom they can unburden themselves.

We often find that persons who have committed grave offenses will fly to
the moors, or to the prairies, or to the vast solitudes of almost
impenetrable forests, and there give vent to their feelings. I instanced
the case of Eugene Aram, who took up his abode on the bleak and solitary
moor, and, removed from the society of his fellow-men, tried to maintain
his secret by devoting himself to astronomical observations and musings
with nature, but who, nevertheless, felt compelled to relieve his
overburdened mind by muttering to himself details of the murder while
taking his long and dreary walks on the moor.

If Maroney had committed the robbery and no one knew it but himself, I
would demonstrate the truth of my theory by proving that he would
eventually seek some one in whom he thought he could confide and to whom
he would entrust the secret.

My plan was to supply him with a confidant. It would take time to
execute such a plan, but if they would have patience all would be well.
I would go to Montgomery and become familiar with the town. I was
unknown there and should remain so, only taking a letter to their legal
advisers, Watts, Judd & Jackson, whom I supposed would cheerfully give
me all the information in their power. I also informed them that it
would be necessary to detail more detectives to work up the case.

I found the officers of the company genial, pleasant men, possessed of
great executive ability and untiring energy, and felt that my duties
would be doubly agreeable by being in the interests of such men.

They ended the interview by authorizing me to employ what men I thought
proper; stating that they had full confidence in me, and that they
thought I would be enabled to unearth the guilty parties ere long. They
further authorized me to use my own judgment in all things; but expected
me to keep them fully informed of what was going on.

I started for Montgomery the same day, but was as unfortunate in meeting
with delay as were my detectives. The rivers were filled with floating
ice and I was ice-bound in the Potomac for over thirty hours. I was
obliged to go back to Alexandria, where I took the train and proceeded,
via West Point and Atlanta, to Montgomery. On the journey I amused
myself reading Martin Chuzzlewit, which I took good care to throw away
on the road, as its cuts at slavery made it unpopular in the South. At
the various stations planters got aboard, sometimes conveying their
slaves from point to point, sometimes travelling with their families to
neighboring cities. I did not converse with them, as I was not sure of
my ability to refrain from divulging my abolition sentiments. On my
arrival in Montgomery I took up my quarters at the Exchange and
impressed upon Mr. Floyd the necessity of keeping my presence a secret.
He had no idea that I was after Maroney, but supposed I was merely on a
visit to the South.

I took no notice of Maroney, but managed to see Porter and Roch
privately. They informed me that they had discovered little or nothing.
Maroney kept everything to himself. He and his wife went out
occasionally. He frequented Patterson's, sometimes going into the card
rooms, drove out with a fast horse, and passed many hours in his
counsel's office. This was all Porter knew.

Roch was to do nothing but "spot" the suspected parties and follow any
one of them who might leave town. He was to be a Dutchman, and he acted
the character to perfection. He could be seen sitting outside of his
boarding-house with his pipe in his mouth, and he apparently did nothing
but puff, puff, puff all day long. There was a saloon in town where
lager was sold and he could, occasionally, be found here sipping his
lager; but although apparently a stupid, phlegmatic man, taking no
notice of what was going on around him, he drank in, with his lager,
every word that was said.

I found that Mrs. Maroney was a very smart woman, indeed, and that it
would be necessary to keep a strict watch over her. I therefore informed
the Vice-President that I would send down another detective especially
to shadow her, as she might leave at any moment for the North and take
the forty thousand dollars with her.

I had no objections to her taking the money to the North. On the
contrary, I preferred she should do so, as I would much rather carry on
the fight on Northern soil than in the South.

I found Messrs. Watts, Judd & Jackson, the company's lawyers, were
excellent men, clear-headed and accommodating. They gladly furnished me
with what little information they possessed.




_CHAPTER IV._


Before I left Montgomery on my return to the North, I became acquainted
with the local detective, McGibony, without letting him know who I was.
In accordance with a plan which I always carry out, of watching the
actions of those around me, I kept my eye on him, and found that he was
quite "thick" with Maroney. He boarded at the Exchange, drank with
Maroney in saloons, and even passed with him into the card-room at
Patterson's.

At this time McGibony had in his charge a distinguished prisoner, being
no less a personage than the old planter whom Johnson H. Hooper so
graphically described as "Simon Suggs;" by which name I will continue to
call him.

Suggs had been arrested for the commission of a series of misdemeanors,
but, as he was a great favorite, he was allowed the freedom of the city,
and was joyfully welcomed at the hotels and saloons.

Simon was about fifty-six years old, the dryest kind of a wit, and
extremely fond of his bitters. He lived about forty miles out from
Montgomery, on the Coosa river, but about a week prior to the time I saw
him, had come to Montgomery to see his friends. Simon's morality was not
of the highest order, and the first place he visited was Patterson's
saloon. Here he met a few congenial spirits, took several drinks with
them, and then, being "flush,"--a very unusual thing for him--he
proceeded to "buck the tiger." Like too many others, he bucked too long,
and soon found himself penniless. Not to be outdone, however, he rushed
out and borrowed one hundred dollars from a friend, promising to return
it the first thing in the morning. With this money he returned to the
unequal contest, but before long was again strapped.

In the morning, as he was walking along the street, in a very
penitential mood, he was accosted by his friend, who demanded of him the
one hundred dollars he had borrowed. Simon put on a very important air,
and in a tone of confidence which he was far from feeling, assured him
he should have the money before he left town.

As Simon strolled along, puzzling his brain as to how he could raise the
necessary funds to pay off his friend, he saw the tall, ungainly form of
a backwoods planter shuffling down the street towards him.

The planter was dressed in a suit of butternut, which had become very
much shrunken, from exposure to all kinds of weather. His coat sleeves
did not reach far below his elbows, and there was a considerable space
between the bottom of his breeches and the top of his shoes. He was as
"thin as a rail," and if he stood upright would have been very tall, but
he was bent nearly double. He had a slouched hat on, which partly
concealed his long, lantern-jawed visage, while his shaggy, uncombed
hair fell to his shoulders, and gave one a feeling that it contained
many an inhabitant, like that which caused Burns to write those famous
lines containing the passage:


     "Oh, wad some power the giftie gie us,
     To see _oursels_ as _ithers_ see us!"


As he came down the street he stopped occasionally and gawked around.

Simon was always ready for fun, and determined to see what the planter
was up to. Accordingly, as they met, Simon said, "Good mornin'!"

"Good mornin'!" replied the gawky.

"Have yer lost summat?" asked Simon.

"Wal, no, stranger, but I wants to git some money changed, and I'll be
durned if I can diskiver a bank in this yar village."

"Bin sellin' <DW65>s, eh?"

"You're out thar," replied the planter. "I've bin sellin' cotton."

"I'm jist the man to help yer! I'm gwine to my bank. Gin me yer money,
and come along with me and I'll change it for yer!"

The gawky was much pleased at Simon's kind attention, and remarking that
"he reckoned he was the squarest man he had met," he turned over his
money--some four hundred dollars--to Simon, and they started off
together to get it changed.

On the road Simon stepped into a saloon with the planter, called up all
the inmates to take a drink, and telling the planter he would be back
with the money in a few minutes, started off.

Fifteen minutes passed away. The planter took several drinks, and began
to think his friend was a long time in getting the money changed, but
supposed he must be detained at the bank. At the end of half an hour he
began to grow decidedly uneasy, but still Simon did not come. At the
expiration of an hour he was furious, and if Simon had fallen into his
hands at that time, he would have doubtless been made mince meat of
unceremoniously.

Simon, on leaving the saloon, had gone to his friend and, out of the
poor planter's funds, had paid him the hundred dollars he owed him, and,
with the three hundred dollars in his pocket, started for Patterson's.

He proceeded to "buck the tiger," and soon lost nearly all of it. To see
if his luck would not change, he gave up the game, and started at
"roulette." Here he steadily won, and soon had over seven hundred
dollars in his possession. He was now all excitement, and jumped with
many a "whoop-la" around the table, to the great amusement of the
spectators. He was about to give up play, but they urged him on, saying
he had a run of luck, and should not give up till he broke the bank.
Thus encouraged, he played for heavy stakes, and was soon completely
"cleaned out," and left Patterson's without a cent.

He went to a friend and borrowed twenty-five dollars to help him out of
town. He was considered good for a small short loan; and going to his
hotel, he paid his bill, and mounting his dilapidated steed, started for
his home, forty miles distant, at as great a speed as he could get out
of his poor "Rosinante." In the South, men, women and children, always
make short journeys on horseback. Simon travelled for two hours, when he
reached the Coosa river, about fifteen miles from Montgomery. At this
point lived a wealthy widow, with whom he was well acquainted, and here
he determined to pass the night. He was joyfully welcomed by the widow,
who ordered one of her <DW64>s to put up his horse and conducted him
into the house. She had a good supper prepared, Simon ate a hearty meal,
spent a few delightful hours in the widow's company, and was then shown
to his room. He was soon in the arms of Morpheus, and arose in the
morning as gay as a lark. Throwing open the casement, he let in the
fresh morning breeze and took in at a glance the rich Southern
landscape. Immediately below him, and sloping in well kept terraces to
the banks of the Coosa, was a trim garden, filled with flowers, among
which, in fine bloom, were numerous varieties of the rose. The sluggish
waters of the Coosa flowed without a ripple between its well wooded
banks, the trees on opposite sides often interlocking their branches.
Beyond the river was a wilderness of forest; the slaves were going to
their labor in the cotton fields, singing and chatting gaily like a
party of children. It was indeed a beautiful scene, and who could more
thoroughly appreciate the beautiful than Simon? Hurriedly dressing
himself, he went to the breakfast room, where he found waiting for him
the buxom widow, dressed in a loose morning robe, admirably adapted to
display the charms of her figure.

After a delicious repast of coffee and fruit the widow proposed that as
it was such a lovely morning they take a boat-ride on the river. Simon
willingly acquiesced, and the widow, after ordering a well filled
lunch-basket to be placed in the boat, not forgetting a "little brown
jug" for Simon, took his arm, and tripping gaily down to the river,
embarked. Simon pulled strongly at the oars until a bend of the river
hid them from view of the plantation, when, taking in the oars, he
seated himself by the widow, and placing an oar at the stern to steer
with, they glided down the river. Simon was married, but was a firm
believer in the theory advanced by Moore, that


                   --"when far from the lips we love,
     We've but to make love to the lips we are near."


The persimmons hung in tempting bunches within easy reach overhead, and
Simon would pull them down and shower them into the widow's lap.
Occasionally he would steal his arm around her waist, when she, with a
coy laugh, would pronounce him an "impudent fellow." Occasionally he
would raise the little brown jug and take a hearty pull; finally he
stole a few kisses, the widow dropped her head resignedly on his
shoulder, and so they floated down the current, loving "not wisely, but
too well." On and on they floated, entirely oblivious of time, when they
were suddenly startled by a wild halloo. The widow started up with a
scream, and Simon grasped the oars as soon as possible. Just in front of
them, seated on his horse, and with his revolver ready cocked in his
hand, sat the deputy sheriff of Montgomery. "Simon Suggs," said he,
"jist you git out of that thar boat and come along with me; I've got a
warrant for your arrest!"

"Oh! hav yer?" said Simon, "that's all right; I'll jist take this yar
lady hum, git my critter, and come in to Montgomery."

"No," said the inexorable deputy, "that won't do, jist you git out of
that thar boat and come with me."

The widow now interposed, and in plaintive tone said, "But, sir, what
am I to do? It will never do for me to return without Mr. Suggs; what
will my <DW65>s think of it? You, Mr. Deputy, can get into the boat with
us and go to my house; while you are eating dinner I will send one of my
<DW65>s to fetch your horse."

The deputy was finally persuaded to take this course, and securing his
horse, he got into the boat.

It will now be necessary to relate how the deputy happened to appear at
such an inopportune moment for Simon. The planter, after awaiting the
return of Simon for over two hours, was informed by the saloon keeper to
whom he appealed, that he had entrusted his money to Simon Suggs, and
that his chances of ever seeing it again were poor indeed. On
discovering this he swore out a warrant against Simon and placed it in
the hands of the sheriff to execute.

The Sheriff found that Simon had left town, and immediately his deputy,
mounted on a fast horse, started in pursuit. The deputy passed Simon at
the widow's, and went directly to his house. He found Mrs. Suggs at
home, and demanded of her the whereabouts of Simon. Mrs. Suggs said she
did not pretend to keep track of him; that he was a lazy, shiftless
fellow, who never supported his family; that about a week previously he
had left home, and she had not set her eyes on him since.

The deputy informed her that Simon had committed a grave offense, and
that he had a warrant for his arrest.

Mrs. Suggs ended the interview by saying she always thought Simon would
come to a bad end, and slammed the door in the deputy's face.

The Deputy Sheriff passed the night at a friend's, and the next morning
retraced his steps, making inquiries along the road at the different
plantations, endeavoring to get some trace of Simon. When he reached the
widow's he was told by a slave that "Massa Simon" and the "Missus" had
shortly before gone down the river for a boat ride, and taking a short
cut through the fields he headed them off.

The return journey was against the current, and Simon was pulling away
at the oars, the perspiration starting in large drops from his forehead
and running down into his eyes, or streaking his cheeks, while the
deputy was gaily entertaining the widow, who was about equally divided
in her attentions. As they proceeded Simon would say, "A very deep place
here;" "bar here;" "push her off a little from that snag," etc., and the
deputy would occasionally supply the widow with persimmons. While in the
deepest part of the stream the widow discovered a splendid bunch of
persimmons hanging from a bough which reached to the centre of the
river. She declared she _must_ have them. Simon rested on his oars,
while the gallant deputy got on the seat, and by raising himself on his
tip toes, just managed to reach the bough, a good strong one, and,
grasping it with both hands, he proceeded to bend it down so as to reach
the fruit. At this inopportune moment Simon gave way to his oars, and
left the poor deputy hanging in the air.

[Illustration: _At this inopportune moment Simon gave way to his oars,
and left the poor deputy hanging in the air._--Page 40.]

"Hold on! hold on!" yelled the deputy; "don't you know you are
interfering with an officer of the law?"

"My advice ter you is to hold on yourself," was all the consolation he
got from Simon, while the widow was convulsed with laughter.

Leaving the deputy to extricate himself from his awkward position as
best he could, Simon rowed rapidly to the house, sent a <DW64> to bring
the deputy's horse, and after eating an enormous lunch, mounted and
started for home.

The deputy hung to the limb and yelled for assistance, but no one came,
and he found he could hold on no longer. He could not swim, and he felt
that in dropping from the limb he would certainly meet a watery grave.
All his life he had had a horror of water, and now to be drowned in the
hated liquid was too hard. He made desperate efforts to climb up, on the
limb, but could not do it. His arms were so strained that he thought
they would be pulled from their sockets. He had strung many a <DW64> up
by the thumbs to thrash him, but he little thought he should have been
strung up himself. His strength rapidly failed him, and he found he
could maintain his hold no longer. Closing his eyes, he strove to pray,
but could not. Finding the effort useless, he let go his hold, while a
cold shudder ran through his body--what a moment of supreme agony!--and
dropped into the river. Over such harrowing scenes it were better to
throw a veil of silence, but I must go on. He dropped into the river,
and as the water was only knee deep, he waded to the bank.

His combined emotions overcame him, and on reaching the bank he threw
himself down under the shade of some trees and, completely exhausted,
sunk into a deep sleep. How long he slept he could not tell, but on
awaking he sprang up and hurried to the place where he had left his
horse. Finding it gone, he walked into Montgomery and reported to the
Sheriff, not daring to face the widow after the ridiculous tableau in
which he had been the principal performer.

The Sheriff procured the services of McGibony, and the next day went
with him to Simon's home, and arrested him without difficulty.

In the North, Simon would have been kept a close prisoner; but the
fun-loving inhabitants of Montgomery looked on the whole transaction as
a very good joke, and Simon was decidedly "in clover," having liberty to
go where he wished, and being maintained at the county's expense.

I judged from the circumstances that McGibony was not to be trusted, and
concluded that authorities who could execute the law so leniently, would
be poor custodians for a prisoner of Maroney's stamp.

On my return trip to Chicago I stopped over at Rome, Ga., where
Maroney's father lived. I discovered that the doctor lived well,
although he was a man of small means. I took a general survey of the
town, and then went directly to Chicago.




_CHAPTER V._


On arriving in Chicago I selected Mr. Green to "shadow" Mrs. Maroney.
Giving him the same full instructions I had given the other operatives,
I despatched him for Montgomery. He arrived there none too soon.

Mrs. Maroney had grown rather commanding in her manners, and was very
arrogant with the servants in the house. She also found great fault with
the proprietor, Mr. Floyd, for not having some necessary repairs in her
room attended to.

One of the lady boarders, the wife of a senator, treated her with marked
coolness; and these various circumstances so worked on her high-strung
temperament that she was thrown into an uncontrollable fit of passion,
during which she broke the windows in her room.

The landlord insisted on her paying for them, but she indignantly
refused to do so. On his pressing the matter, she determined to leave
the house and make a trip to the North.

Porter had become quite intimate with the slave-servants in the
Exchange, and easily managed to get from them considerable information,
without attracting any special attention.

One of the servants, named Tom, was the bootblack of the hotel. He had a
young <DW64> under him as a sort of an apprentice. The duties of the
apprentice, though apparently slight, were in reality arduous, as he had
to supply all the spittle required to moisten the blacking; and for this
purpose placed himself under a course of diet that rendered him as juicy
as possible.

Early in the morning Tom and his assistant would pass from door to door.
Stopping wherever they saw a pair of boots, they would at once proceed
to business. The helper would seize a boot and give a tremendous "hawk,"
which would cause the sleeping inmate of the room to start up in his bed
and rub his eyes. He would then apply the blacking and hand the boot to
Tom, who stood ready to artistically apply the polishing brush. During
the whole of this latter operation the little <DW64> would dance a
breakdown, while Tom, seated on the chair brought for his accommodation,
would whistle or sing an accompaniment. By this time the inmate of the
room would have sprung from his bed, and rushed to the door, with the
intention of breaking their heads--not shins--but, on opening the door,
the scene presented would be so ludicrous that his anger would be
smothered in laughter, and Tom generally received a quarter, as he
started for the next door.

Sleep was completely vanquished by the time they had made their rounds,
and the greatest sluggard who ever reiterated "God bless the man who
first invented sleep," would find himself drawn from his downy pillow at
break of day, with never a murmur.

Tom was naturally of an enquiring turn of mind, and as he passed from
door to door saw and heard a good deal. Porter, by giving him an
occasional fee, had made Tom his fast friend, and he would often regale
him with bits of scandal about different boarders in the house.

On the evening of the same day that Mrs. Maroney had given way to her
temper, as Porter was passing through the hall of the hotel, he heard
peals of laughter emanating from the room used by Tom as his blacking
headquarters. Going in, he found Tom, perfectly convulsed with laughter,
rolling around amongst the blacking brushes and old shoes, while the
little <DW64>, with his mouth wide open and eyes starting almost out of
his head, looked at him in utter astonishment.

"Why! what's the matter, Tom?" inquired Porter.

It was some time before Tom could answer, but he finally burst out with:

"Oh! golly, Massa Porter, you ought to see de fun. Missus 'Roney done
gone and smashed all de glass in de winder. I tell you she made tings
hot. Massa Floyd say she must pay for de glass, and she tole him she's
not gwine to stop in dis yer house a moment longer. Yah! yah! yah! Den
Massa 'Roney come, and he fly right off de handle, and tole Massa Floyd
he had _consulted_ his wife. Massa Floyd tole dem dey could go somewhere
else fur all he care. Massa 'Roney tole de missus to pack up and go to
de North, de fust ting in de morning. So Missus 'Roney is gwine to go
North. Wonder what she'll do thar, wid no <DW65>s to confusticate? Yah!
yah! yah!"

Porter drew from the darkey full particulars of the affair, and also
that he had seen Maroney pass a large sum of money over to his wife.

Giving Tom a quarter, Porter hurried off after Green, and got him ready
to start the first thing in the morning. Bright and early on the twelfth
of March, Porter arose, and, _quite accidentally_, ran across Tom, who
had just come down with Mrs. Maroney's shoes.

"She is gwine, sure," said Tom! "she tole me to hurry up wid dese shoes.
Her and Massa 'Roney am habin a big confab, but dey talk so low, dis
<DW65> can't hear a word dey say."

Porter hurried Green to the train, and came back in time to see Maroney
get into a carriage, with his wife and her daughter Flora, and drive off
toward the station. Maroney secured for them a comfortable seat in the
ladies' car, and, bidding them good-bye, returned to the hotel.

Of course Green was on the same train, but, as I had instructed him, not
in the same car. He took a seat in the rear end of the car immediately
in front of the ladies' car, whence he could keep a sharp lookout on all
that went on.

Mrs. Maroney went directly to West Point, and from there to Charleston,
where she put up at the best hotel, registering "Mrs. Maroney and
daughter."

The next day, leaving Flora in the hotel, she made a few calls, and at
two P. M. embarked on the steamer for New York, Green doing the same.
They arrived at New York on the eighteenth and were met at the wharf by
a gentleman named Moore, who conducted Mrs. Maroney and Flora to his
residence. Green discovered afterwards that the gentleman was a partner
in one of the heaviest wholesale clothing-houses in the city.

He knew nothing further about Mr. or Mrs. Maroney than that Maroney had
treated him with a good deal of consideration at one time when he was
in Montgomery selling goods, and he had then requested Maroney and his
wife to stop at his house if they ever came to New York. Accordingly
Maroney telegraphed to him when his wife left Montgomery, informing him
how and when she would reach New York, and he was at the wharf to meet
her.

Mrs. Maroney and Flora were cordially welcomed by Mr. Moore and remained
at his house for some weeks. They were very hospitably entertained and
seemed to devote their whole time to social pleasures. Green shadowed
them closely and found that nothing of any importance was going on.

Porter remained in Montgomery, keeping in the good graces of Maroney and
his friends, not that Maroney easily took any one into his confidence;
on the contrary, although he was social with every one, he kept his
affairs closely to himself.

Porter never forced himself on Maroney's company, but merely dropped in,
apparently by accident, at Patterson's and other saloons frequented by
Maroney, and by holding himself rather aloof, managed to draw Maroney
towards him.

Maroney used to walk out of town towards the plantations, and Porter, by
making himself acquainted with the planters and overseers of the
surrounding country, discovered that Maroney's walks were caused by a
young lady, the daughter of a wealthy planter; but no new developments
were made in regard to the robbery.

I instructed Porter to "get in" with any slaves who might be employed as
waiters at Patterson's, and worm from them all the information possible
in regard to the habitues of the place.

There were several men with whom Maroney used to have private meetings
at the saloon, and Porter learned from one of the <DW64>s what took
place at them. Maroney would take an occasional hand at euchre, but
never played for large stakes. There was little doubt but that he had a
share in the gambling bank. He frequented the stable where "Yankee Mary"
was kept, and often himself drove her out. From the way the parties at
Patterson's talked, the <DW64> was positive that she belonged to Maroney.

He received several letters from his wife, which Green saw her post, and
Porter found he received in due time. So far all my plans had worked
well. The regular reports I received from my detectives showed that they
were doing their duty and watching carefully all that occurred. Porter,
about this time, learned that Maroney intended to make a business trip
through Tennessee, and that he would, in all probability, go to Augusta,
Ga., and New Orleans.

Everything tended to show that he was about to leave Montgomery, and I
put Roch, my Dutchman, on the alert. I wrote out full instructions and
sent them to Roch; ordered him to keep a strict watch on Maroney, as he
might be going away to change the money, and told him to telegraph me
immediately if anything happened. It was my intention to buy any money
he might get changed, as the bankers in Montgomery stated that they
would be able to identify some of the stolen bills. I warned Roch
against coming in contact with Maroney on his journey, as I surmised
that he was going away to see if he would be followed. This was
certainly his intention.

For some time I had feared that Maroney had some idea of Porter's
reasons for stopping in Montgomery, and felt that if he had, he would be
completely disabused of it by discovering that Porter did not follow
him. He was an uncommonly shrewd man and had formed a pretty good
opinion of detectives and of his ability to outwit them.

He had seen the best detectives from New York, New Orleans and other
places completely baffled. He expected to be followed by a gentlemanly
appearing man, who would drink and smoke occasionally, wear a heavy gold
watch chain, and have plenty of money to spend; but the idea of being
followed by a poor old Dutchman never entered his head.

I charged Roch not to pay any attention to Maroney or to appear to do so
until he started to leave Montgomery, and concluded by saying that I
felt I could trust him to do all in his power for the agency and for my
honor.

Maroney made his preparations for departure, all his movements being
closely watched by Porter.




_CHAPTER VI._


On the fifth of April Maroney, having completed his preparations,
started by the first train for Atlanta, _via_ West Point. The day was a
very warm one, but Maroney was accompanied to the station by a great
number of friends. With many a hearty shake of the hand they bade him
farewell, some of them accompanying him to the first, and some even to
the second station beyond Montgomery. No one could have started on a
journey under more favorable auspices.

Before the train started a German might have been seen slowly wending
his way to the depot. He had no slaves to follow, or wait upon him. No
one knew him, and the poor fellow had not a friend to bid him good-bye.
He went to the ticket office, and in broken English said: "I vants a
teeket for Vest Point;" and stood puffing at his pipe until the clerk
gave him his ticket, for which he paid, and took his seat in a car
called, in the South, the "<DW65> car." He had a rather large satchel,
and it must be confessed he was decidedly dirty, as he had been toiling
along a dusty road, under the hot Southern sun.

In about ten minutes after, Maroney arrived, with his numerous friends,
stepped on board, and the train slowly drew out of the station.

The German had taken a reversed seat in the rear of his car, and,
apparently indifferent to the lively conversation of the <DW64>s around
him, slowly smoked his pipe. Maroney took a seat in the ladies' car,
talked with his friends, among whom were several ladies, and then had a
merry romp with a child. In about three-quarters of an hour he rose,
and, walking to the front of the car, scrutinized the faces of all the
passengers carefully. Our Dutchman gazed carelessly at him through the
window of the car in which he sat. Maroney passed through the "<DW65>
car," not thinking it worth while to take notice of its inmates, and
looking on the poor immigrant as no better than a <DW64>. Then he went
into the express car, shook hands with the messenger, chatted with him a
moment, and passed on to the baggage car. At the first station he
stepped off, met several friends, and was well received by all. The
conductor collected no fare from him, as he had been a conductor at one
time, and that chalked his hat "O. K."

He left the train at every station, looked keenly around with an eye
that showed plainly that he was fighting for liberty itself, and then
returning, passed through it, carefully examining the faces of the
passengers. By the time they reached West Point he had regained his old
firmness--at least the German thought so.

If any one had watched, they might have seen the German go to the ticket
office in West Point and, in broken language, inquire for a ticket to
Atlanta. Having procured his ticket, he went immediately to the
second-class car and continued his journey with Maroney.

At West Point Maroney met several friends, who all sympathized with him.
After drinking with them he went to the train and into the express car,
although it is strict rule of the company that no one but the messenger
shall be allowed in it. The rule is often broken, especially in the
South, where the polite messengers dislike to ask a gentleman to leave
their car. The German took in all that was going on, but who cared for
him? poor, stupid dolt! Maroney remained in the express car a short
time, and then again passed through the train, but discovered nothing to
cause him the slightest uneasiness.

On arriving at Atlanta he proceeded to the Atlanta House, and was given
a room. The German arrived at the hotel soon after him, and throwing
down his satchel, asked, in his broken English, for a room. The clerk
scarcely deigning to notice him, sent him to the poorest room the house
afforded.

Roch, finding that no train left until morning, amused himself with
another smoke, at the same time noticing that Maroney was well received
by the clerk, whom he knew, and by all the conductors and gentlemen who
frequented the hotel. His journey had been almost an entire ovation, and
he had become almost completely self-possessed.

At eleven he retired for the night. Roch, after waiting for some time,
walked noiselessly down the hall to Maroney's room, and listened at the
door. Finding all quiet, he walked down to the office, got the key to
his room, and went to bed.

He got up early in the morning and, with Maroney, took an early
breakfast. He kept a close watch on him, and learned from the
conversation of some of Maroney's friends, to whom he had divulged his
plans, where he was going, and by what route he intended to pursue his
journey. He said that he should be gone some five weeks, but would
return to Montgomery in time to prepare for his trial.

Some of his friends alluded to his arrest for the robbery. He smiled,
and said they would soon find that he was not the guilty party; and
moreover, that the Express Company would find that it would cost them a
good deal before they got through with him, as, after his acquittal, he
would certainly sue them for heavy damages. He knew the wealth of the
company, and that they would "leave no stone unturned" to ruin him, but
he had no fears as to the result, when the facts were laid before a jury
of his countrymen.

He had many acquaintances at Atlanta, and gave himself up to enjoyment.
Roch wrote to me that if he had started out with the expectation of
being followed, he had no such fears now. In the evening Maroney
complained to the clerk about his room, and Roch became uneasy when he
found he had moved to another part of the house. He feared that Maroney
might leave town by some private conveyance, and so kept a close watch
on his movements. He staid up until a late hour, but finding that
Maroney was safe in bed, finally retired. At a very early hour in the
morning he was stirring and patiently waited for Maroney to get up.
Maroney soon came down, apparently in the best of spirits, and ordered
his trunk, a very large one, to be taken to the depot. Roch was seized
with a desire to go through this trunk, and determined to do so if he
possibly could. He had not seen it at Montgomery as it came down with
the other baggage, and one of Maroney's friends had had it checked and
handed the check to him when on the train. His desire was useless, as
he was not destined to see the inside of the trunk, at least not for the
present. He wrote to me of Maroney's having the trunk, and said I might
rely on his examining it if he possibly could.

Maroney took the train for Chattanooga, still paying no fare. Roch
bought a second class ticket and they were soon under way. When about
one hour out from Atlanta Maroney passed through the train eyeing all
the well-dressed men on board, of whom there were a great many, but
paying no attention to the inmates of the "<DW65> car." He saw no cause
for uneasiness, and soon became the happiest man on board. He passed
through the cars several times before the train reached Chattanooga, and
his spirits seemed to rise after each inspection. When they arrived at
Chattanooga. Maroney put up at the Crutchfield House, and being very
tired did not go out that evening. He seemed well acquainted with the
clerk and some of the guests, drank several times with his friends, and
went to his room quite early. Roch wrote to me from the Crutchfield
House, where he had also put up, giving me a detailed account of all
that had happened, and in a postscript said "Maroney has not the
slightest idea that he is being followed, and all is serene." In the
morning Maroney sauntered around the city, apparently with no particular
object in view, but dropping into some of the stores to visit his
friends. Finally he went into a lawyer's office where he remained some
time. Roch took up a position where he could watch the office without
being observed. At last Maroney came out of the office with a gentleman,
went into a saloon with him, where they drank together, and then
returned to the hotel to dinner. After dinner he smoked until about two
o'clock, and then walked out and started up the main street of the town,
towards the suburbs. The day was intensely warm, and there were few
people stirring in the streets. When Maroney reached the suburbs he
stopped and looked suspiciously around. He took no notice of the German,
who was walking along wrapped up in his pipe, his only consolation.
Being satisfied that no one was following him, he turned around the
corner and suddenly disappeared.

When Roch got to the corner he could not see Maroney in any direction.
There were blocks of fine houses on both sides of the street, and he was
certain Maroney was in one of them. But which one? That he could not
tell. He did not like to leave the neighborhood, but it would not do to
stay. There were few persons on the street, and if he lingered around
the corner he would surely be noticed and suspected. He walked very
slowly around the square, but discovering nothing, and fearing that he
might alarm the quiet neighborhood, he went back to the hotel. He was
now at the end of his rope. He was certain Maroney was in one of the
houses, and feared that he was getting the money changed. He might have
brought it with him, concealed it on his person, and taken it with him
to the house he was now in. Terribly disappointed, he sat down and wrote
to me for instructions, thinking that my letter in reply would most
likely reach him in Chattanooga. At dusk he went out to the suburbs, but
did not find a trace of Maroney. Returning to the hotel, he found that
no train left till morning, and weary and worn he went to his room, and
in a most despondent mood, soon retired. Early in the morning he came
down but there was no sign of Maroney. He determined to peep into his
room, and fortunately managed to do so without being discovered, finding
his trunk and a bundle of soiled linen still there. Somewhat reassured,
he took his breakfast and went down to see the train off. The train
started, but Maroney not putting in an appearance, Roch began to feel
that he must have been outwitted. As he retraced his steps to the hotel
he was astonished to see Maroney on his way to the same place. Roch
having once more got his eye on him, determined, if possible, to find
out where he had passed the previous night. He thought the matter over,
and concluded that for many reasons it would be best to change his
boarding place. The people at the hotel did not think much of a poor
German, and might conclude he could not pay his bill, and as he did not
wish to guarantee payment, he went to his room, brought down his
satchel, and going to the office, paid his bill. He had seen a German
boarding-house down the street, so taking his satchel in his hand, he
went in and enquired if they had a room to spare. He found they had, and
on glancing around discovered that the change in many respects was for
the better, as from the boarding-house he had a clear view of all that
occurred in front of the hotel.

He did not see Maroney again until evening, when he came out, looking
fresh and bright, having evidently refreshed himself by a bath and a
shave.

Maroney went into a saloon, talked to several parties, strolled
leisurely around, returned to the hotel, passed the evening till ten
o'clock with a party of gentlemen, and then retired.

Roch rose early, and found that the landlord, who, like most of his
countrymen, possessed the good habit of being an early riser, had
breakfast ready. After breakfast he took a seat on the verandah, and
watched Maroney as he loitered around. At two in the afternoon Maroney
sauntered out, and started in the direction of the suburbs.

Roch concluded he was going to the place where he had lost him the day
before, and now he had the coveted opportunity of finding his hiding
place.

Walking slowly after him, smoking his pipe and gaping around, until he
reached a cross-street, a block from where Maroney had disappeared
before, he turned down this street, walked rapidly until he reached the
next street running parallel to the one Maroney was on, and turning up
it he ran to the corner above, where he got behind the fence, as if
urged by a pressing necessity. From his position he could see down the
street without being seen.

In a moment Maroney reached the corner, a block from him. Looking
around, as before, he pulled his hat over his eyes, and, walking rapidly
part way down the block, he entered a comfortable looking
frame-building. It was painted a creamy white, and its windows were
protected by the greenest of green blinds.




_CHAPTER VII._


Roch walked around for some time, and then returned to his
boarding-house. Finding no one but the landlord and the bar-keeper in
the saloon, he bought a bottle of wine, and asked them to join him in
drinking it. They gladly consented, and he entered into a conversation
with them, in which he pretended to give them a history of his life, and
his plans for the future.

He complimented the city very highly, saying that he was so much pleased
with it that he had determined to buy some property there. He then
informed them that he had been looking at some houses, and wished to get
the landlord's opinion of them. He--the landlord--had been in the city
for many years, and must be well acquainted with the value of property.

Roch now called for another bottle of wine, and proceeded to describe
some of the houses at which he had been looking. He described several,
but one in particular, he said, had taken his fancy; and he then
described the house Maroney had entered, saying further that he thought
there were several ladies there.

The landlord looked at his bar-keeper and winked, and then giving Roch a
poke in the ribs, said, with a hearty laugh: "Oh! you have found them
out, have you?" Then, with another poke: "You're a sly fellow, you are,"
and burst into a roar of laughter, in which he was heartily joined by
the bar-keeper.

Roch pretended not to comprehend what they meant, and turned the
conversation to other subjects. He felt very happy when he discovered
the character--or rather want of character--of the house, as he now knew
the business Maroney was engaged in.

Maroney did not make his appearance up to the time the train left, so
Roch retired.

Early in the morning he arose, ate his breakfast, and was surprised to
see Maroney, who must have returned in the night, just coming out of the
hotel. Seeing Maroney's trunk just being placed on the baggage wagon, he
hastily paid his bill at the boarding-house, and managed to reach the
station some time in advance of Maroney.

In about half an hour Maroney came up and bought a first-class ticket
for Nashville. Roch bought a second-class ticket to the same place, and
took up his old position in the "<DW65> car."

Nothing of importance happened between Chattanooga and Nashville.

At Nashville Maroney put up at the City Hotel, while Roch obtained
lodgings at a German saloon just around the corner.

Maroney met plenty of friends, who received him warmly. He amused
himself by going to the livery stables, looking at the horses, and
driving around the city. He met a gentleman and passed a good deal of
time with him, but had no business transactions with him; merely using
him as a companion to help kill time. The weather was all that could be
desired, and Maroney was "gay as a lark."

The second day after his arrival in Nashville, he went into a
jeweler's, and remained over three-quarters of an hour: came out, and at
the end of three hours again went in, this time stopping over an hour.
When he came out Roch discovered that he had a parcel in his hand, and
concluded that he had made a purchase. He at once reported the incident
to me.

The third day, at train time, the trunk was again brought down. Roch
went to the depot, wondering what could be the meaning of this move, as
the train about to start would take them back to Chattanooga.

His suspense was soon put at rest, by Maroney's coming down and buying a
ticket to Chattanooga. Roch followed suit, and they were soon on their
backward track.

Maroney passed through the cars, scrutinizing the passengers, neglecting
those in the "<DW65> car," as heretofore, which was the only incident of
the trip to Chattanooga.

Here he again put up at the Crutchfield House, while Roch went back to
his German boarding-house. He made some excuses to account for his
sudden return, but they were unnecessary, for, so long as he paid his
bill regularly, the landlord was perfectly satisfied.

The next morning Maroney visited a livery stable owned by a man named
Cook, who was a great favorite. He was said to have a horse which could
out-trot anything in the city. Cook and Maroney drove out several times
with this horse, and Maroney examined him critically. He was a good
judge of horseflesh, and when he was excited would fairly carry a person
away with his vivid description of the delights of "tooling" along
behind a fast horse.

Roch could not certainly tell whether Maroney had bought the horse or
not, but judged he had, as he heard Cook tell Maroney that he should
expect to see him on his return to Chattanooga.

After leaving Cook, Maroney sauntered out to see his fair, but frail
friends. Roch left him there and returned to have a good time with his
countrymen. He had ordered up a bottle of wine, and the landlord and he
were just about to have a game of euchre when he accidentally glanced up
at the hotel.

It was fortunate he did so, as whom should he see going in at the main
entrance but Maroney. He hastily excused himself from the game and
walked out. He had gone hardly a block from his boarding-house before
Maroney came down and got into a carriage. He had gone at once to his
room, ordered his trunk down, paid his bill and was now being hurried to
the depot.

Roch followed as fast as he could. Maroney had allowed himself barely
enough time to check his trunk and step upon the train as it moved off,
so that Roch had to start without his satchel and without buying a
ticket. He did not think much of the loss of his baggage, that little
loss being more than compensated by the joy he felt at not having lost
his man.

He had not the slightest idea where Maroney was going, but took up his
old position in the "<DW65> car" and watched closely. When the conductor
came around to Maroney, Roch noticed two things: first, that Maroney
bought a through ticket to Memphis; and second, that the conductor did
not know him. Wherever he had gone before, he had met friends, but now
he had left them all behind. Roch followed Maroney's lead and bought a
second class ticket to Memphis.

Maroney, though utterly unconscious of the fact, was as much in the
power of Roch as was Sindbad the Sailor in the power of the little old
man who clung to his neck with a grasp that could not be loosened.
Although, literally, Roch did not touch him, figuratively he held him
with a grasp of iron, and all Maroney's efforts to shake him off would
have proved waste of time and strength.

A storm was impending when they left Chattanooga and it had now burst
upon them in a perfect fury. Night had set in, but flash after flash of
lightning lit up the sky. One moment, objects were rendered distinctly
visible as they dashed by, the next they were lost in gloom. The sparks
from the locomotive were quenched in the falling torrent and the roar of
the train was silenced by the loud peals of thunder.

It was a wild night, but Roch got on the platform to make sure of
Maroney. There were no sleeping-cars at the time and he had no trouble
in getting a good view of him. Maroney was stretched out on his seat
fast asleep. He watched him for some time, and then concluding that
there was little danger of his attempting to leave the car on such a
night, he went back to his seat in the "<DW65> car."

Ever since he had left Montgomery, Maroney had been executing a series
of strategic movements, and now that he had undoubtedly thrown his
pursuers, if there were any, off his track, why should he not ease his
overwrought mind by sleep, that sweetest of all consolers?

The next morning they arrived in Memphis. The storm had passed away,
but had left mementoes in the fresh and balmy air and in the muddy
streets. Maroney stopped at the Gayosa House. Roch found it an easy
matter to move his baggage, and walked off with his hands in his
pockets, wondering where he could get a clean shirt. He put up at a
saloon where he could keep an eye on Maroney, and having bought some new
shirts and a second-hand satchel, he felt once more that he was a
respectable man.

From Memphis Roch wrote to me, informing me "that all was well; that
Maroney seemed perfectly at ease and confident that if any one had
followed him, he had, by his retrograde movement, thrown him entirely
off the scent." He had not the slightest idea what would be Maroney's
next move, but was certain he could keep track of him.

Maroney appeared familiar with Memphis, but had no friends there, and
amused himself loitering around, occasionally going into a saloon. The
second day of his stay Roch observed him write and post a letter. Then
he visited the livery stables, admired some of the fine horses and
afterwards strolled down to the wharf, where the steamer "John Walsh"
was being loaded with cotton and tobacco. He went on board and looked
over the Walsh, saw the clerk and entered into conversation with him.
Roch heard the clerk say that the steamer would leave in about two
hours, and concluded that Maroney was going down the river on her.

Maroney returned to the Gayosa House and paid his bill, which caused
Roch to hurry to his boarding-house, pay his bill, and with his newly
acquired treasure, the old satchel, hasten to the river and take a
steerage passage to New Orleans on the John Walsh. He was a little
afraid that Maroney might begin to notice him and found it necessary to
use the utmost caution. Before embarking on the Walsh he laid in a stock
of "bolognas," a few pounds of the rankest "Sweitzer kase" and an
abundance of "pretzels."

Coming down to the boat some time before Maroney, he filled his pipe and
took a seat where he could watch all that went on. After some time
Maroney drove up in a carriage, had his trunk carried up to his
state-room, and, lighting his cigar, took a seat and watched the
movements of the crew who were employed in taking on the cargo. It was a
busy scene: the <DW64>s toiled along under the burning sun, lightening
their labors with a merry boatman's song. Their burdens were heavy, but
their hearts were light.

Maroney, instead of looking down on them with the contempt he did,
should have longed for their content and happiness. The meanest of them
possessed what he never could possess--"a contented mind."

In less than half an hour the steamer's bell was rung, friends hurriedly
bade each other good-bye, the gang-planks were hauled in, and the John
Walsh was soon snorting down the river. The decks and cabins of the
Walsh were crowded with passengers; ladies handsomely dressed, planters
going to New Orleans on business or pleasure; tourists making a trip
down the Mississippi for the first time, and being charmed with the
variety of the scenes around them: all was life, gaiety and animation.

Although Maroney would have generally mingled with the passengers, "the
gayest of the gay," he now kept entirely aloof from them. He was
oppressed by the "weight of his secret," and sought "by solitary
musings" to ease his mind. He read a little, glanced at the scenery
along the river, landed and walked around at the different places where
the steamer stopped, but kept entirely to himself.




_CHAPTER VIII._


Nothing occurred worthy of note until they arrived at Natchez, but here
Roch was much amazed to see Maroney's trunk being put on the wharf-boat.
He knew it was the custom of the managers of the wharf-boats to allow
baggage to be left on the wharf, and to collect a small sum for storage;
so he took his satchel and placed it near Maroney's trunk.

He left the boat just in time to see Maroney take the only carriage that
happened to be at the river when the steamer arrived, and drive rapidly
up the hill. He knew that he could get plenty of carriages in a few
minutes, but by that time where would Maroney be? His only sure method
was to follow him at once, and trust to finding a conveyance on the
hill. He followed as fast as he could, and just as he got to the top of
the hill was fortunate enough to meet a <DW64> driving an express wagon.
He immediately struck a bargain with him to drive him around town for a
dollar an hour.

Roch, in his excitement had dropped his German accent, and spoke
uncommonly good English for an immigrant; but the <DW64>, being a very
good talker himself, did not remark it. By Roch's direction the driver
followed on straight up the street in the same direction Maroney had
taken.

Maroney got out of the carriage and went into a store.

It would not do for Roch to wait on the express wagon for Maroney's
reappearance. He, therefore, instructed his driver to await his return,
and stepped into a store, from which, while he was examining some goods,
he could also keep an eye on Maroney's carriage.

What Maroney was doing in the store, was a problem which Roch would have
liked to solve.

In about fifteen minutes Maroney came out, and appearing familiar with
the town, directed his driver where to take him. He was driven to a
comfortable looking house; the <DW64> driver saying something to him, and
motioning toward it. Maroney answered, and the hackman drove away, while
Maroney went into the house.

Roch was now at a loss what steps to take. The hack driver had not been
paid, and in all probability would return for Maroney. If he watched the
house, he might be discovered from behind the blinds; so he determined
to keep his eye on the hack driver. The hackman drove leisurely down to
a saloon, fastened his horses, and went in. Roch opened conversation
with his driver, and found that he was a slave, but that he had got
permission from his master to hire himself out, for which privilege he
paid one hundred dollars a month. After working for some time he had
been enabled to purchase the horse and wagon he drove, and as he was
making money, hoped in a few years to have enough to purchase his own
freedom. Roch concluded he could gain from him some information as to
Maroney's driver, so he carelessly asked him if the hack driver was also
hired out.

"Yes, sah, him ib my cousin," said <DW71>.

Roch supposed the <DW64> must have had his _quasi_ freedom, from seeing
him go into a saloon, as the planters never allow their slaves to go
into drinking-places; not because they think it immoral, but because the
slaves would most likely become unfit for work.

Roch asked the <DW64> if he knew where they kept good brandy.

"Golly, ib you want good licker, dis yer sloon is de place to find it!"

"Drive up, and we will sample some of it," ordered Roch.

<DW71> willingly obeyed, and they went into the saloon. Roch again
assumed his German accent. The two <DW64>s at once recognized each
other, and Roch, in his broken way, said:

"Vel, poys, vat vill you haf?"

The <DW65>s grinned from ear to ear, and replied:

"De same ab you, boss."

"Barkeeper, you haf any lager got? Nein? Och, mine Got, dis ish von h--l
of a blace! Notting put prandy und vhisky! I pelieves I vill go by
Yarmany the steamer next. Vell, give us dree prandys! Trink hearty,
poys. Mine frient," continued he, turning to the hackman, "your peesness
ish goot? No?"

"Yes, sah! I always dribes the gemmen what comes on de steamer. Ya, ha!
Dey nearly all goes to de same place. Dis mornin' a gemmen come on de
steamer, an' say, 'Here, you nigga, dribe me as fas' as you can to
Mudder Bink's.' I'se yer man, says I; an' golly, didn't I make dose
hosses trabel! I was gwine like de debil when he stop me, an' went to de
store. Den I took him to Madam's, and he say, 'Here, <DW71>, you jus' go
down town, an' come fur me in two hours;' an' I's gwine back, an' if
dis yer nigga don't get a fiver for his trouble, den dis court don't
know itself!"

"Mudder Beenk's?" exclaimed Roch. "Who vas das?"

"Yah, yah, yah," roared both the <DW54>s. "You don' know Mudder Binks!
Why, she keeps de finest gals on all de ribber."

[Illustration: _"Yah, yah, yah," roared both the <DW54>s, "you don't
know Mudder Binks! why she keeps the finest gals on all de
ribber."_--Page 69.]

Roch was happy when he heard this, as he was now positive that Maroney
was not taking any action to cover up the robbery; so he settled with
the expressman, and returned to the wharf-boat to look after Maroney's
trunk. He saw that the trunk was still where it had been left, and on
going on board of the steamer, found that most of the passengers had
taken advantage of their long stay, and were visiting in the town. Roch
took a seat on the wharf-boat, near the office. He puffed away at his
pipe for some time, staring vacantly around, when he heard a carriage
rattling down the hill. In a moment it stopped, and looking up Roch saw
Maroney almost leaning over him and conversing with a gentleman in the
office.

"Are you the agent of Jones's Express?" he asked.

"Yes," replied the gentleman.

"I thought your office was up the hill. Have you received a package
for --------?" (Roch did not catch the name.)

The gentleman looked over his book, and said:

"No, nothing; but it may have been detained in the New Orleans office."

This was the substance of the conversation.

Maroney went into the office and remained some five minutes, then came
out, and seemed debating some subject in his mind.

The first bell of the Walsh was rung. He hurriedly ordered his trunk on
board, and embarked, closely followed by Roch, "mit his satchel." They
proceeded quietly on their journey until they reached New Orleans, where
Maroney secured a hack and was driven to the City Hotel. He passed the
day walking around, lost in thought, and studying some subject deeply.

During the day Roch concluded that Maroney was going to make a decided
move. But what would it be? He had no one to advise him; none from whom
he could seek counsel, and he was at a loss what to do.

In this strait he telegraphed to me, in Chicago, detailing his
predicament, and asking instructions. He was much surprised at receiving
an answer from Philadelphia, where I then was. I telegraphed him in
cipher, congratulating him on his success so far, and told him not to
mind the loss of his baggage; but to change his disguise, and rig
himself up as a dashing Southerner. Accordingly, the first thing in the
morning, he took a bath, had had his face clean shaven, and, going to
the clothing and other furnishing stores, soon procured a fashionable
outfit.

When he was dressed in his new clothes, what a metamorphosis had he
made, from the clod-hopping Dutchman to the gay, genteel and courteous
citizen! I telegraphed to him that I thought success was almost in his
grasp, and to keep a constant lookout.

He took a room in the City Hotel, and was very much pleased, on coming
into the breakfast room, to find Maroney there. He had to look twice
before he was certain of his man, as Maroney had also changed his
appearance. He had donned a suit of city clothes, had changed the cut of
his whiskers, had had his hair cut short, and had altered his entire
appearance. Now commenced the chase in earnest.

Maroney walked around the hotel, with his hands in his pockets,
occasionally glancing out of the window. Finally he went out on the
street and walked rapidly around. He would walk hurriedly up one street,
cut across, and come down another, and then pass to the point from which
he started, always retracing his steps, and doubling on his track.

The thought at once flashed through Roch's mind that he was endeavoring
to discover if he was followed; and, seeing through his movements, Roch
took up his position at the base of operations, and, as Maroney started
up one street, he waited quietly on the corner, and always found that
Maroney would come around past him in a short time. Maroney spent the
whole morning at these manoeuvres, trying to discover if he was
followed, Roch having much the advantage of him, in being able to keep
watch of him by walking only a fourth of the distance.

I kept the telegraph working, and Roch would take advantage of Maroney's
doublings on his track, to rush to the telegraph office, send a despatch
to me, and, in a short time, rush back for the answer. I informed him
that I did not believe that Maroney had any suspicions of him, but was
keeping a sharp lookout for any of the employes of the Adams Express
Company who might know him, and who were numerous in New Orleans. He
knew the New Orleans detectives who had been employed on the ten
thousand dollar robbery, and had everything to fear from them. He might
run across the General Superintendent of the Southern Division at any
moment, and wished to avoid him if possible.

I impressed on Roch the necessity of the strictest watch. I must confess
that I felt feverish and excited at having Roch all by himself watching
the movements of Maroney, in a place of the size of New Orleans, and if
it had been possible I should have placed more men around him; but that
was now out of the question, and all I could do was to rely on Roch. I
communicated all the facts, as I received them, to the Vice-President,
who was with me.

In the afternoon Maroney strolled down the street and turned into the
Adams Express office. Roch knew no one in the office, and, as this last
move of Maroney's greatly puzzled him, he telegraphed to me for
instructions. I consulted with the Vice-President, and replied: "Trust
no one. Rely on yourself alone." Roch got the answer in about an hour,
during which time Maroney remained in the Express office.

On leaving the Express office, he went to a daguerrean gallery, remained
some time, and then went to the hotel. On Saturday Maroney again went to
the daguerrean gallery and received a package, which Roch supposed
contained his pictures. He telegraphed me to this effect, and, on a
moment's consideration of the incident, I ordered him to procure a copy
of the picture from the gallery if he possibly could. From the gallery
Maroney proceeded to the amphitheatre of Spaulding & Rogers, on St.
Charles street, and Roch, feeling certain that he would remain at
least an hour, went to the telegraph office, sent the above despatch,
and as soon as he received the answer, went directly to the daguerrean
gallery.

He was now the dashing Southerner, and as he gaily entered the gallery,
twirling his handsome cane, he was welcomed by a pleasant smile from a
young lady, an octoroon, who was the only occupant of the room. Although
of <DW64> extraction, it was scarcely discernable, and moreover she was
possessed of most engaging manners. Roch entered into conversation with
her, in the course of which he asked if his friend who called up the day
before, and whom he described, did not have his picture taken. She said
he did, and that she had one left, which was not a very good one. Roch
asked leave to look at it, and she hunted it up and handed it to him. He
immediately recognized it, and giving her a five dollar bill, became its
owner. So much for brass. Thanking the lady, and also thanking his stars
that the proprietor of the gallery was out when he called, he returned
to the amphitheatre. Maroney came out and went to the hotel, where they
both took dinner. After dinner Maroney walked up and down the reception
room, pondering deeply over some subject, and then took some paper and a
pencil from his pocket. Roch watched him closely as he seated himself to
write, and concluded that he was trying to disguise his hand-writing.
Maroney finished and folded the note, and taking his hat, walked out on
the street. As soon as he reached the sidewalk, he began to limp badly,
as though it was almost impossible for him to get along. "Strange,"
thought Roch, "he cannot have met with an accident!" In a short time a
<DW52> boy came along. Maroney stopped him, talked to him a moment,
then gave him the note and the boy ran off, while he remained in the
same place.

[Illustration: "_As he gaily entered the gallery twirling his handsome
cane, he was welcomed by a pleasant smile from a young lady, an
octoroon._"--Page 73.]

What would Roch now not have given to have been able to cut himself in
two, leaving one part of himself to watch Maroney while the other
followed the boy? This, however, being one of the few things that he
could _not_ do, he was obliged to let the boy go while he watched
Maroney. The affair seemed to have come to the sticking point. Maroney's
face showed deep anxiety, and his limping was all a sham. The boy had
taken a note to some place, but where, was the question.

In about twenty minutes the boy returned and said something to Maroney,
but what it was Roch could not find out. Maroney handed the boy some
money and he immediately ran off, while the former dropped his limp,
walked to the hotel, and went at once to his room.




_CHAPTER IX._


Roch walked carelessly past the door of Maroney's room and saw him
busily engrossed in packing up. He lost no time. Where Maroney was going
he did not know. He rushed to the office, paid his bill, went to his
room, changed his clothes, and in less than ten minutes issued from the
hotel, again the plodding Dutchman. Aladdin with his wonderful lamp,
could not have brought about a much more rapid transformation. As he
reached the sidewalk, Maroney had just stepped into a hack, and he heard
him order the driver to get to the steamboat landing as soon as
possible. Roch, with his long pipe and old satchel, followed on behind,
and the citizens he met gazed in wonder to see a sleepy Dutchman travel
at such a rate.

The "Mary Morrison," one of the fast boats of the river, was just
casting off from the wharf as they arrived, and they had barely time to
get on board. Roch had taken up his old quarters in the steerage, and
thoroughly enjoyed the beautiful view as they steamed up past the famous
Crescent City. He had now time to wipe the sweat from his brow, and
wonder what place Maroney was going to. He concluded that he was going
back to Montgomery by way of Memphis. True, it was rather an out of the
way route, but such seemed to be the sort that Maroney preferred. He
could not tell to what point Maroney would pay his fare, but as Memphis
seemed to be the objective point, he took a through second class ticket
to that place. The first one hundred and fifty miles of the journey up
the river is though the richest and most beautiful part of Louisiana.
This part of the river is known as the coast, and is lined on both sides
by waving fields of cane, interspersed with orange groves. Alligators
lie basking in the sun, and the whole scene speaks of the tropics.
Beautiful as was the country, it had no charms for Maroney. His mind was
occupied with other thoughts, and he paced up and down the deck as if
anxious to get to the end of his journey.

All went quietly until they reached Natchez, "under the hill," when Roch
was again astonished to see Maroney's trunk being placed on the wharf
boat. He could not understand this move, but had nothing to do but to
follow. Maroney loitered around the wharf-boat, seeming to have no
business to attend to, but when the Morrison steamed up the river, he
advanced to the agent of Jones' Express, had a brief conversation with
him, paid him some money, and an old trunk was delivered to him. Maroney
did not seem to place any value on the trunk, and had it put carelessly
along with his other baggage. Strange indeed, thought Roch, what can he
want with that old trunk? It was an old box, painted black, and thickly
studded with nails. It was a shaky looking affair, and did not look as
if it would stand much of a chance with a modern "baggage smasher." It
had some old tags pasted on it, which showed where it had been. One
which was partly scraped off, read Montgomery, another Galveston, and
still another New Orleans.

There was nothing to show that it was of any consequence, and Roch
looked carelessly at it, as Maroney had left it carelessly on the
wharf-boat, along with his other trunk, and sauntered up the hill.
Maroney put up at the hotel, still leaving his baggage in charge of the
agent of Jones's Express,--who was also proprietor of the wharf-boat.

Roch followed Maroney up town, but, as he did not know when the boats
arrived going up or down the river, and as it began to grow dark, he
concluded he had better stay on the wharf-boat and keep track of the
luggage. Maroney might leave at any hour of the night, as, on the
Mississippi it is not an uncommon occurrence for an unexpected boat to
land or take off passengers with little or no delay, even at the dead of
night. So he got some lunch, and lay around the wharf-boat, as many poor
people do while travelling. Maroney did not come down during the night,
but Roch felt perfectly easy, so long as he kept the trunks in view.

In the morning a steamer came along, bound down the river. Maroney made
his appearance, but paid no attention to the poor immigrant, whom he
considered beneath his notice. He had his trunks placed on board, and
took passage for New Orleans. Roch was all amazement, and could not
understand why such a chase should have been made after an old trunk. He
was inclined to think that Maroney must have had some business with the
store-keeper in Natchez, but what sort of business he could not
determine. He was sure something had been done in New Orleans or at
Natchez. It might have been with the _ladies_ on the hill, or with the
<DW64> and the lame foot. Whatever it was, it was completely covered up.

He managed to telegraph these particulars to me, at one of the places
where the steamer stopped, and I instructed him to keep right on, and
that I would answer more fully in time.

On arriving in New Orleans, Maroney again put up at the City Hotel,
while Roch went to a neighboring restaurant, to get some refreshments,
intending afterwards to change his clothes, and make his appearance as
the dashing Southerner. He had just finished his meal, when, on looking
over to the City Hotel, he saw Maroney getting into a carriage, on which
his two trunks were already placed. He rushed out as Maroney drove off
in the direction of the depot where passengers take the cars for
Pontchartrain, and then go by steamer to Mobile.

He had to make quick time again, and was fortunate enough to secure the
services of a <DW64> drayman who had a fast horse. With this assistance
he got to the station "on time," and, securing a second-class ticket to
Mobile, was soon away on another route.

After reaching Pontchartrain, and embarking on the steamer, Maroney
seemed happier than he had yet been, and walked around the deck, singing
and whistling, apparently overflowing with good spirits. As his spirits
rose, Roch's fell in a corresponding degree. He was unable to understand
the cause of this change; everything seemed confused to him, and he did
not know what to do. He finally concluded that Maroney had left
Montgomery, going to Atlanta, Chattanooga, Nashville, Memphis, etc.,
merely to see if he would be followed, and now, finding he had not
been, he was returning home in a perfectly easy frame of mind.

So much at least had been done. Roch knew that all his actions had met
with my approval. I was the responsible party, and if I was satisfied,
he was. In the meantime, I was unable to form a definite opinion as to
the reason for the change which had evidently taken place in Maroney.
There was no denying but that something had happened to give him more
courage, and it flashed through my mind: Has he got the money?

I thought nothing about the old trunk, as, if he had had anything
valuable in it, he would not have left it so carelessly exposed, at the
stations, on the wharf-boat, etc. All I could do was to carry out my old
plan: "Watch and wait."

Roch, on the journey to Mobile, took a seat on this identical trunk; he
saw nothing suspicious about the old thing, which was not even locked,
but tied up with ropes. Had it entered his mind that the trunk contained
the money he was after, the battle would have been a short one. But he
knew nothing, positively nothing, which would lead him to suppose that
this was the case; so he had nothing to do but to wait, and wait he did.

On Saturday, the thirtieth day of April, the steamer arrived at Mobile,
and the passengers speedily disembarked. At three in the afternoon a
steamer started up the Alabama river, for Montgomery, and on this boat
Maroney took passage. Among the passengers going to Montgomery were a
number of his friends. There were many ladies among them, and he was
well received by all of them. He took no notice of his baggage, and his
trunks lay carelessly amidst a pile of luggage.

On board all was life and hilarity. Fun and frolic were the order of the
day. There were several horse fanciers on board, with whom he was
acquainted, and he got into a conversation with them, his spirits rising
higher and higher still.

When the boat touched at Montgomery he sprang ashore, where he was
welcomed by a crowd of his friends, and gave orders to Porter to have
his trunks taken up to the hotel. Porter, during his absence, had been
appointed clerk of the Exchange. He was on the wharf when Maroney
arrived, and shook hands with him. He told him he was now at the
Exchange; that it was the best house in town, and that Mr. Floyd would
be glad to welcome him as a guest. Maroney was pleased to hear this, and
told Porter that when his trunks came up to the house he would give him
some splendid cigars to try--some that he had bought on his trip. Porter
saw Roch, but dared not speak to him.

Roch seeing Maroney placed under the espionage of Porter, proceeded to
his Dutch boarding-house and gave himself a thorough cleansing.

Porter had a carriage at the wharf, which Maroney and he entered, and
drove up to Patterson's. They took a few drinks and then went over to
the Exchange, where they arrived just as Maroney's trunks came up. He
directed Porter to send the large trunk to his room, but to place the
old one in the baggage room, and to mark it plainly with his name, so
that no one would take it by mistake.

In the evening Maroney and Porter stepped over to Patterson's and there
met Charlie May, a wealthy harness-maker and a very prominent man. He
was one of Maroney's best friends and was so convinced of his innocence
of the crime he was charged with committing that he had gone on his
bail-bond. They went into a private room and had a social chat,
interspersed with an occasional drink. Several of Maroney's friends came
in and joined the party.

Maroney spoke of the splendid cigars he had bought on his journey, and
told the assembled company that when he opened his trunk he would give
them a chance to prove their quality. All went pleasantly with him, and
Porter was unable to notice any change, with the exception that he was
perhaps a little livelier than before.

He recounted the incidents of his journey, the routes he had taken, the
places where he had stopped, etc., and Porter found it varied little
from the truth. He alluded to the girls he had visited in Chattanooga,
said the stock was splendid, described the situation of the house and
advised them to pay it a visit if they ever went to the town. He spoke
of the fine horses he had seen at Cook's livery stable and of Cook's
being a fine fellow. He also spoke of inspecting the live stock in the
stables at Nashville and at the pleasant dwelling at Natchez, on the
hill, and wound up by declaring he had had a splendid time, and ordering
in Champagne for all the party.

In the morning, after breakfast, he told Porter to have the old trunk
sent up to his room and he would get the cigars he had spoken about.
Porter ordered the <DW52> boy to bring the trunk up, and at Maroney's
request went to the room with him to assist in the opening. When the
trunk was brought up the <DW64> and Porter took off the ropes and Maroney
carelessly opened it. There were four boxes of cigars in it. Maroney
opened one of them, took a handful of cigars from it, gave a number of
them to Porter to try, and when Porter had lit one, said:

"What do you think of that? don't you call that a splendid cigar?"

Porter admitted it was an unusually fine-flavored weed. Maroney then put
some, from each of the boxes, into his pockets, and said he was going to
drive out with "Yankee Mary."

Porter having no good excuse for remaining longer, returned to the
office, whence he was soon recalled by Maroney, who requested him to
have the trunk roped up and placed in the garret, where unclaimed
baggage was usually stored. While this was being done, Porter observed
the four cigar boxes lying carelessly on the bureau. Shortly after he
saw Maroney and Charlie May pass rapidly up the street behind "Yankee
Mary."




_CHAPTER X._


We will now return to the North, where we left Mrs. Maroney enjoying
herself as the guest of Mr. Moore. Green shadowed her closely, and she
did not make a move that was not reported to me. I thought it best to
see Mrs. Maroney myself while she was North, and proceeded to
Philadelphia for that purpose, bringing George H. Bangs, my General
Superintendent, with me. I had concluded to give Mr. Bangs full charge
of all the operatives employed in the case. He was to keep fully
informed of all the movements of Maroney and his wife, receive daily
reports from all the operatives, then daily report to me, and I would
direct him how to proceed, and he would transmit the orders to the
operatives. I had many other cases under way, and could not devote all
my time to this one. Bangs was to remain in Philadelphia, where all the
operatives would send their reports. He was a young man of great
abilities; he had been promoted from the ranks, and I had full
confidence in his capacity. He was cautious--sometimes a little too much
so, or more so than I would be, but still with firmness enough to carry
him through all emergencies.

The reader knows that I was determined to win. The Adams Express Company
had furnished me with all the backing I wanted, and under such favorable
auspices, I said, "Win, I must! Win, I shall!" I did not doubt that
Maroney was the thief. The question now was How can I find the money?

Philadelphia, at that time, was where the main offices of the Adams
Express were located, and the Vice-President was in charge. I held a
consultation with him, and he advised us to remain in Philadelphia and
see Mrs. Maroney; and while the interview was progressing, a dispatch
came to me, from Green, stating that Mrs. Maroney had left New York for
that place. We were all anxious to see her, but I concluded to send
Bangs alone to the station, as different persons had seen us with the
Vice-President, and it might excite comment if we all went.

The train arrived in Camden, opposite to Philadelphia, at eight o'clock
in the evening, and Bangs, who was waiting, had Green point Mrs. Maroney
out to him. He got a good look at her as Flora and she stepped into a
carriage. She was a medium sized, rather slender brunette, with black
flashing eyes, black hair, thin lips, and a rather voluptuously formed
bust.

Bangs and Green followed her to the Washington House, on Chestnut
street, above Eighth, where she and Flora went into the reception room.
She sent for the landlord, who assigned them a suite of rooms, and they
retired.

It will be remembered that Maroney was observed to post a letter while
in Memphis. Roch managed to see the address as it lay on the rack in the
hotel, and found it directed to Mrs. M. Cox, Jenkintown, Montgomery
County, Penn. When I arrived in Philadelphia, I concluded it would be a
good plan to find out who Mrs. M. Cox was, and accordingly detailed Mr.
Fox to procure the information. "His orders were: Go slow; be careful;
be sure not to excite any suspicion." Mr. Fox had been a watch and clock
maker, and was a thorough hand at his trade. I provided him with a
carpet-sack and the necessary tools, and also a few silver watches, of
no great value, which I purchased at a pawn broker's. Thus equipped as
an itinerant clock repairer, and having a few watches to "dicker" with,
he started on foot for Jenkintown, a small place twelve miles from
Philadelphia. He sauntered slowly along with his satchel over his
shoulder, going into a farmhouse occasionally, and finally reached
Jenkintown. Here he passed from house to house, enquiring if they had
any clocks that needed repairing. As he was a good hand, and his charges
most reasonable, only twenty-five or fifty cents for each clock, he soon
had doctored several. He was of a talkative nature, and drew from the
old gossips whom he encountered on his rounds, full descriptions of the
members of different families who lived in or around Jenkintown; and
there is no doubt but that he was much better posted as to their
business and weaknesses than they were themselves.

Toward evening, having done a good day's work, he went to the tavern,
kept by a man named Stemples, and made arrangements to stop with him
while in town. He found that a man named Cox lived in Jenkintown, and
that he was a carpenter by trade. During the evening he was much
surprised to meet Cox at the tavern. Fox was a genial fellow, and, after
a paying day's work always made himself agreeable to those whom he met
at the tavern where he put up. He had the knack of getting easily
acquainted, and soon was on the best of terms with Cox and his friends.
He did not force the acquaintance, but during the evening paid much more
attention to Cox's friends than to Cox.

Fox went through about the same routine the next day, and toward
evening, finding that he had made a dollar and a half, he packed up his
tools and went up to the tavern. Here he found Cox and his friends
again. He told them how successful he had been, and received their
hearty congratulations--they feeling that there was no doubt but that
they would be gainers by his good fortune. Cox and his friends joined in
having a good time at the tinker's expense, and pronounced him the
"prince of good fellows;" though I much fear, had Fox suddenly
importuned them for a small loan, they would have changed their tune;
but as he did not, "all went merry as a marriage bell."

[Illustration: _Cox and his friends joined in having a good time at the
tinker's expense, and pronounced him "the prince of good
fellows."_--Page 86.]

Cox had two bosom friends--Horton and Barclay. They were held together
by ties stronger than those which bind kindred--they were fellow-topers,
and could drink about equally deep. They generally concluded an
evening's entertainment in somewhat the following manner:

Cox would say, "Hic, Barclay, you'r drunk; better go home, hic."

Barclay would insist that he was never more sober in his life, but that
Horton and Cox were "pos-(hic)-tively-(hic)-beasley." All three would
then start off, bent on seeing one another safely home, and, like the
blind leading the blind, generally fall into the ditch. Three irate
women would then make their appearance on the scene, and they would each
be led home, declaring they were never more sober in their lives. Fox
found that Cox was known by his friends as Josh. Cox, and he was what
might be called a lazy loafer, as were also his friends, Horton and
Barclay. Fox did not try to get any information from Cox, but got all he
possibly could from his friends, Horton and Barclay, who proved easy
talkers and kept nothing back. He now concluded it was a good time to
find out about Cox. He discovered in the course of the evening that
Josh. had a clock that needed repairs but did not care to go to the
expense of getting it fixed. So he said: "Josh., you are a pretty good
sort of a man, and I'll tell you what I will do for you; I am not going
to work in the morning, and so I will come down to your house in the
course of the forenoon and fix up your clock for you and not charge you
a cent for the job." Cox was so much pleased at this liberal offer that
he took another drink at Fox's expense and went home highly delighted.
In the morning Cox called for Fox, and again drinking at his expense,
conducted him to his house and gave him the clock to repair. Fox now saw
Mrs. Cox for the first time. She seemed a very civil woman and a great
talker. She was of middle stature, with black hair and eyes, and dark
complexion. When I received this description, I immediately said she
must be a relative of Mrs. Maroney's, and so she eventually proved. In
the course of the conversation Fox gleaned that Mrs. Cox had some
relatives living in Philadelphia, which was nothing astonishing, and he
got very little information from her. Cox was out of employment, but
expected work soon; his house was commodious and very neatly kept, and
Mrs. Cox seemed a good housekeeper. Having finished the repairs to the
clock, Fox returned to the tavern, where he found Barclay and Horton,
and soon had the glasses circulating. The pleasant liquor caused all the
parties to grow familiar, and Fox was regaled with many a rare bit of
scandal. He finally spoke of the Coxes from whom he had just returned,
and was at once given their history so far as it was known in
Jenkintown. The family had been in the town about four years, and had
moved there from Morrisville, N. J. Josh. was not inclined to work, and
just managed to scrape enough money together to live on. They had three
children, and Mrs. Cox was a native of Philadelphia. Fox concluded, from
all he saw and heard, that the people of Morrisville would be able to
give him full information of the antecedents of the Coxes, and came into
Philadelphia on the following day to get instructions. I was perfectly
satisfied with what he had done so far, and on the next day sent him to
Morrisville. Fox plied his trade in Morrisville with great success, and
soon got acquainted with many of its inhabitants. His disguise was a
splendid one to travel with, as at that time the clock-maker was
welcomed everywhere, and while engaged at his work would amuse his
patrons with thrilling stories of his adventures, or with the details of
city life. In this way Fox got acquainted with many people who knew the
Coxes when they were living at Morrisville, and they unanimously gave
Josh. the character of a "ne'er do weel," although there was nothing
against him but his laziness. Josh. had lived for three years in
Morrisville, and but very little was known of his previous life. His
wife was known as a hard-working woman, and that was all that could be
learned about her. Fox discovered, incidentally, that Josh. had a
brother living at Centreville, near Camden, in the State of New Jersey.
After a while he got around there, travelling all the way by the wagon
road, and occasionally repairing a clock on the way. It would not do
while assuming his present character to travel by rail.

On getting to Centreville he at once proceeded with his "dickering,"
being ready to either mend a clock or trade a watch. He found there was
a Jim Cox in town who had a clock to fix, so he went to his house and
got the job. He entered into conversation with Jim while engaged in
repairing the clock, but found him a surly, uncommunicative, unsocial
man, but Fox was a thoroughly good fellow and did not mind an occasional
rebuff. So he took up the conversation, explained what was the matter
with the clock, gave an interesting description on the works of clocks
in general, and finally partially thawed Jim out. "By the by," said Fox,
"I repaired a clock for a man of your name in Jenkintown; it was in a
very bad condition, but I fixed it up as good as new; so I will this
one. Do you know this Cox? they call him Josh. Cox.

"Oh, yes!" laughed Jim, "he is a brother of mine!"

"I am glad to hear it!" remarked Fox, "he is a mighty fine fellow! His
wife is a very superior woman. Let me see, who was it her sister married
down South? She has a sister there, hasn't she?"

"Yes," said Jim.

"Where?" enquired Fox, as he put a pin in the clock.

"I don't remember the name of the place; used to know it. Her husband is
agent for the Adams Express at--at--yes--Montgomery! that's it,
Montgomery! Don't remember her husband's name."

"You are like me in having a bad memory for names," said Fox, and then,
having got the information he wanted, he turned the conversation to
other subjects, all the time keeping busily engaged at his work.

He made a first class job of the clock, so that no enquiries should be
afterwards instituted, and collecting his bill, slowly wended his way to
Camden. From Camden he crossed the river to Philadelphia and reported to
me at the Merchants' Hotel. Bangs and I were seated in a private room
when Fox came in. After hearing his report I turned to Bangs and said:

"The plot thickens! Every day we are nearing success! We have the woman
treed at last, and in the North, among our friends! Depend upon it we
shall have the money ere long!"




_CHAPTER XI._


On Saturday I removed to the Washington House, as Mrs. Maroney was still
there. I found she did not go out much, seeming to prefer to remain in
her room with Flora. Sunday morning I went to the breakfast room with
the determination of seeing her, but although I waited and waited, she
did not come, and I afterwards found that she had taken her breakfast in
her room.

I loitered about the house till after twelve, noon, at which time I was
standing near the main entrance when I noticed a carriage drive up and
stop. A gentleman alighted and walked into the hotel. In about twenty
minutes Mrs. Maroney appeared escorted by the gentleman--a tall,
handsome man, about forty-five years old--entered the carriage with him
and was driven rapidly off, unaccompanied by Flora.

I was completely nonplussed, as she was gone almost before I knew she
was there. As it was mid-day and in the heart of the city, it would not
do for me to run after them, as I would soon fall into the hands of the
police by having the cry of stop thief raised after me. I felt very much
like following and standing my chances, as at that time I was young and
supple, but before I could come to a conclusion the carriage was whirled
around the corner of Tenth street and lost to view.

I loitered around for some time and then started towards my room. As I
reached the head of the stairs, I saw a little girl playing in the hall,
and, from the description I had received, concluded that she must be
Flora. As she came past me I patted her gently on the head and calling
her a sweet little girl, had a few seconds conversation with her.
Glancing down the stair-way, I saw a lady looking out from the door of
the reception room:

"Oh, my dear!" said I, "there is your ma; she seems to be looking for
you!"

"That ain't my ma!" she answered. "My ma has gone for a drive with Mr.
Hastenbrook!"

"Oh, indeed! Where is she going?"

"She's gone to Manayunk! You can't catch me!"

And Flora, who was full of fun, darted down the hall.

I had gained a point and I hurried to the Merchants' Hotel, saw Bangs,
posted him, and started him off in a carriage for Manayunk to note the
actions of Mrs. Maroney and her escort. Bangs soon had them under his
eye and was enabled to get a good, full look at her escort, Mr.
Hastenbrook. He found, afterwards, that Mr. Hastenbrook was the head of
one of the largest shirt manufactories in the city. He carried on an
extensive business with the South, and, outside of his business, was
known as a great ladies' man. He was very gallant to Mrs. Maroney, and
Bangs concluded, from their actions, that they also "loved not wisely."

At five o'clock they returned and Hastenbrook took supper at the
Washington House. At supper I had a good full view of them, but neither
of them noticed me, as I was dressed in coarse, rough clothes--a common
occurrence with me. She little thought how closely I held her fate in my
hands. Mr. Hastenbrook remained in her room till after midnight, Flora
having gone to bed long before he left.

On Monday morning I left her in charge of Green and went to talk over
matters with the General Superintendent. Suddenly Green burst in upon us
and said that Mrs. Maroney and Flora had gone to the North Pennsylvania
station.

I was much annoyed at his having left her to report and ordered him to
go as quickly as possible to the station. If she had gone he must follow
her on the next train and get off at Jenkintown. I described Cox and his
residence and told him to watch and see if he could not find her
somewhere in the neighborhood.

I told the Vice-President that I did not doubt but that Mrs. Maroney
knew the particulars of the robbery, and I had some idea that she had
the money with her. Jenkintown was a small place, where she felt she
could hide securely, and remain covered up for an indefinite time.
There, almost directly under our noses, the money might be concealed.

I mentioned the necessity of having a "shadow" sent down to Jenkintown,
to watch all her movements, and if she moved to follow her, as we must
know all she did. I mentioned that it would be necessary to get into the
good graces of the postmaster at Jenkintown, so that we could tell where
all the letters she received were post marked, and to whom her letters
were directed.

In regard to Mr. Hastenbrook, I thought his attentions were those of a
"free lover," but that if he was seen with her again I would have him
watched. I drew the Vice-President's attention to the benefits which
would result from putting a female detective on, to become acquainted
with Mrs. Maroney at Jenkintown, as she would undoubtedly be the best
one to draw her out.

At that time I had in my employ, and at the head of my establishment,
one of the greatest female detectives who ever carried a case to a
successful conclusion. She had been in my employ for two years, and had
worked up the cases given her in an astonishingly able manner, proving
herself a woman of strong, clear discernment. As she takes a prominent
part in bringing to light the facts which follow, and in clearing away
the mystery that overhung the disappearance of the forty thousand
dollars, a short description of her may not prove uninteresting.

Two years prior to the time of which I am now writing, I was seated one
afternoon in my private office, pondering deeply over some matters, and
arranging various plans, when a lady was shown in. She was above the
medium height, slender, graceful in her movements, and perfectly
self-possessed in her manner. I invited her to take a seat, and then
observed that her features, although not what would be called handsome,
were of a decidedly intellectual cast. Her eyes were very attractive,
being dark blue, and filled with fire. She had a broad, honest face,
which would cause one in distress instinctively to select her as a
confidante, in whom to confide in time of sorrow, or from whom to seek
consolation. She seemed possessed of the masculine attributes of
firmness and decision, but to have brought all her faculties under
complete control.

In a very pleasant tone she introduced herself as Mrs. Kate Warne,
stating that she was a widow, and that she had come to inquire whether I
would not employ her as a detective.

At this time female detectives were unheard of. I told her it was not
the custom to employ women as detectives, but asked her what she thought
she could do.

She replied that she could go and worm out secrets in many places to
which it was impossible for male detectives to gain access. She had
evidently given the matter much study, and gave many excellent reasons
why she could be of service.

I finally became convinced that it would be a good idea to employ her.
True, it was the first experiment of the sort that had ever been tried;
but we live in a progressive age, and in a progressive country. I
therefore determined at least to try it, feeling that Mrs. Warne was a
splendid subject with whom to begin.

I told her to call the next day, and I would consider the matter, and
inform her of my decision. The more I thought of it, the more convinced
I became that the idea was a good one, and I determined to employ her.
At the time appointed she called. I entered into an agreement with her,
and soon after gave a case into her charge. She succeeded far beyond my
utmost expectations, and I soon found her an invaluable acquisition to
my force.

The Vice-President placed such full reliance in me that I had no
hesitation in giving him the above sketch of Kate Warne, and advising
that she be sent to Jenkintown, accompanied by a young lady who should
have no direct connection with the case, but simply act as Kate's
companion and friend. I knew this would greatly increase the expenses,
but, as he well knew, we were now dealing with an uncommonly smart man
and woman, and in order to succeed, we must be sharp indeed!

As I had previously said, when a person has a secret, he must find some
one in whom to confide, and talk the subject over with him. In this case
Maroney had evidently confided the secret of the robbery to his wife,
and now, while they were apart, was the time to draw it out. What was
wanted was a person who could ingratiate herself into the confidence of
Mrs. Maroney, become her bosom friend, and so, eventually, be sure of
learning the secret of her overwrought mind, by becoming her special
confidante.

I also suggested the propriety of placing a handsome, gentlemanly man at
Jenkintown, who should be provided with a span of horses and a handsome
carriage, and deport himself generally as a gentleman of leisure. His
duties would be to get up a flirtation with Mrs. Maroney, prevail on her
to drive out with him, and, if possible, entice her to quiet, little
fish-suppers, where he could ply her with champagne, and, under its
exhilarating influence, draw from her portions of her secret. A woman of
Mrs. Maroney's stamp, while separated from her husband, would most
likely desire gentlemen's company, and as she, like most of her class,
would put up with none but the handsomest, it was necessary to select as
fine a looking man to be her wooer as could be found. She seemed to have
already provided herself with a lover, in the person of Hastenbrook,
and it was necessary to get some one able to "cut him out."

The company had a gentleman in their employ, named De Forest, whom I
thought admirably adapted for this purpose, and if the Vice-President
would allow me, I would assign to him the task of becoming Mrs.
Maroney's lover. The instructions I would give him would be few and
simple, and he need know nothing of the case, further than that he was
to go to Jenkintown with a carriage and span of horses, make himself
acquainted with Mrs. Maroney, and report daily all that took place.

I had already given Mr. Bangs entire charge of the detectives employed
in the case, so that he would remain in Philadelphia, while I would keep
up a constant communication with him by telegraph and mail.

The Vice-President coincided with me in all my plans, and said the Adams
Express were going to let me have my own way, and that they had
unbounded confidence in me. I felt that their placing such entire
confidence in a young man like me was indeed flattering, and I was
determined to prove to them that their confidence was not misplaced.
Having made all necessary arrangements in Philadelphia, I left for
Chicago to prepare Mrs. Warne and her friend for the case.

De Forest was given the necessary instructions, and drove out to
Jenkintown with his team. He was a man about thirty-five years old, five
feet eleven inches in height, remarkably good looking, with long black
hair, and full beard and mustache, and in Philadelphia he was known as a
perfect "lady-killer."

On getting into Jenkintown he put up at the tavern, and made
arrangements to spend the summer. He then drove back to Philadelphia,
reported to the Vice-President and Bangs, got his trunk, and drove back
to Jenkintown.




_CHAPTER XII._


De Forest loitered around Jenkintown, and found that a gentleman who
owned beautifully laid out grounds allowed the public to frequent them
at certain times, so long as they did no damage to the walks or the
flowers. The garden was a charming place, and Mrs. Maroney and Flora
would often pass the morning in strolling through it. De Forest
discovered this, and made the grounds a place of constant resort. The
first day or two, as he passed Mrs. Maroney and her daughter, he would
politely raise his hat to them. Then he would meet Flora as she ran
around the grounds, and by paying her little attentions, soon caused the
mother's heart to warm toward him, and made the daughter the medium of
forming the mother's acquaintance. At the end of three or four days Mrs.
Maroney remarked to Mrs. Cox: "What a fine man Mr. De Forest is!" All
worked well.

When she went to Philadelphia, Green, who was shadowing her, entirely
unknown to De Forest, found that she frequented a famous restaurant on
Eighth street, where she met Mr. Hastenbrook. In the evening, on her
return to Jenkintown, she always met De Forest and strolled around with
him. What with the gallant Hastenbrook, with his splendid mustache, on
the one hand, and the sentimental De Forest, with his long hair and full
beard, on the other, she had her hands full, and felt that her lot was
cast in pleasant places. We will leave her to enjoy herself, and turn
our attention to Chicago.

On my arrival, I selected Mr. Rivers as the best man to go to
Jenkintown, and lie quietly in wait, keeping a sharp lookout on the
movements of Mrs. Maroney. He was born and brought up in Philadelphia,
and was well acquainted with it and the surrounding country. I gave him
full, clear instructions as to the part he was to perform in this drama
of real life, and he started the same day for Philadelphia, where he was
to report to Mr. Bangs. I also saw Kate Warne, told her I wanted her to
make a trip, and to get ready as soon as possible. She was also to get a
Miss Johnson to be her companion.

In the morning she came to me for instructions. I gave her a full
history of the case, and of all the steps that had been taken up to the
time; described Mr. and Mrs. Maroney, stated that I thought they were
not married, and, so far as pomp and splash made fine society, they
frequented it. I then said: "You remember Jules Imbert, of Bills of
Exchange notoriety?"

She answered, with a smile, that she remembered him well.

"Then," said I, "you had better assume to be his wife. Mrs. Maroney will
most likely wish to remain in retirement for some time. She will
probably remain in Jenkintown all summer and spend the winter in
Philadelphia. You know all about Jules Imbert's operations, so you will
arrange for a permanent stay in Jenkintown, get acquainted with Mrs.
Maroney, and when you get thoroughly familiar with her, make her your
confidante, and to show her how implicitly you rely on her friendship,
disclose to her that you are the wife of a noted forger, who is serving
a term in the penitentiary. As confidence begets confidence, Mrs.
Maroney will, most certainly, in time unbosom herself to you."

I described the different persons engaged on the case: De Forest, the
lover; Green, the "shadow," etc., and instructed her that not even De
Forest was to know who she was or what her errand.

In a few days handsome toilets were ready for Kate Warne--whom we will
hereafter know as Madam Imbert--and Miss Johnson. As soon as possible I
started for Philadelphia accompanied by the two ladies, and on arriving
in the city took rooms in the Merchants' Hotel. Kate Warne felt sure she
was going to win. She always felt so, and I never knew her to be beaten.

Mr. Bangs reported that he had sent Rivers on to Jenkintown, where he
obtained board in a private family. He pretended that he had a very sore
arm, which prevented him from working and obliged him to go up to
Philadelphia to get it dressed. As he was doing nothing he concluded he
would live in Jenkintown, where board was much cheaper than in the city.

Green had been ordered to Philadelphia to take charge of Mrs. Maroney
when she came up to the city, or to follow her if she started on another
trip.

Madam Imbert and Miss Johnson drove out to Jenkintown and passed a
couple of days at the tavern. They found that the rooms, though plain,
were very neatly kept, and that the table was abundantly supplied with
good, substantial food. Madam Imbert expressed herself well satisfied
with the town, the purity of the air, and its beautiful drives and
walks; and as her system had become rather debilitated by a long
residence in the South, she thought she would spend the summer there and
recuperate her failing health. She made an arrangement with the landlord
to spend the summer at his house, drove into Philadelphia and reported
to me. She had her baggage sent out, and the following day returned with
Miss Johnson and they took up their abode in the tavern.

The reader will observe that Jenkintown is having a large increase made
to its population, principally of male and female detectives. Stemples,
the landlord of the tavern, had seldom had so many distinguished guests,
and visions of Jenkintown becoming a fashionable summer resort floated
before him, and he felt that the day was not distant when his humble
tavern would, in all likelihood, be turned into a huge caravansary,
filled to overflowing with the elite of society.

All went smoothly with De Forest and Mrs. Maroney in their love-making.
Every day they met and strolled through the shaded walks of the garden.
He lavished a great deal of tenderness on Flora, which he would gladly
have bestowed on the mother, and Flora was no more charmed with him than
was Mrs. Maroney.

One day, as they strolled through the most secluded part of the grounds,
De Forest, with a beating heart, presented a beautiful bouquet to her.
Mrs. Maroney accepted it with a pleasant smile, held down her head a
little and blushed most charmingly. De Forest was more than elated, he
was fascinated. He met me in Philadelphia a day or two after and said
with much feeling:

"Why, Pinkerton, why _do_ you keep watch of such a woman? She is the
most beautiful, most charming lady I ever encountered! By heavens! I am
in love with her myself!"

I advised him to be careful, as the woman might be very beautiful, but
still be a serpent! I found he made a truly devoted lover, and so I had
nothing to complain of in that respect.

When Madam Imbert and Miss Johnson arrived at Stemples's, the
inhabitants of Jenkintown were agog to know who they were and whence
they came. They evidently belonged to a high class of society, and all
sorts of stories were circulated about them. The taller of the two
ladies was quiet, not given to conversing much, and was very kind and
considerate with the servants at the hotel.

De Forest had managed to scrape up a slight acquaintance with them at
the breakfast table, and when Mrs. Maroney, who, like everyone else, had
heard of their arrival, casually remarked that she wondered who they
were, he was enabled to inform her that the tall lady was from the South
and that her name was Madam Imbert.

This was enough for Mrs. Maroney, she loved the South. Maroney was a
Southerner, and her heart warmed toward any one from there, so she
determined to avail herself of the first opportunity of getting an
introduction to Madam Imbert.

She entered into a dissertation on Maroney and his virtues; did not
exactly say that he owned any <DW64>s, but hinted that he would soon do
so. She spoke of Maroney as a man who had plenty of money. De Forest
turned the conversation from Maroney as soon as possible, for, to tell
the truth, he was as much in love with her as was the gallant
Hastenbrook, and "my husband" was a term that grated harshly on his ear.

De Forest learned that she was going into Philadelphia on the following
day, and determined to ask her to let him have the pleasure of driving
her in. He had the proposition several times at his tongue's end, but
held back from uttering it, for fear she should decline. At length he
summoned up courage enough to disclose his wish. Mrs. Maroney had a
habit of blushing. She blushed very sweetly, and accepted his kind offer
with many thanks.

De Forest was now all animation. He went to the tavern, had his buggy
and set of harness cleaned and scoured till they were bright as new, and
gave orders to the groom to bring up his horses in the morning without a
hair out of place. When a lady and gentleman go out for a drive they
like to be by themselves, and generally find a child somewhat _de trop_.
De Forest sincerely hoped that Flora would not be brought along, but,
oh! deceitful man, he expressed a wish to Mrs. Maroney that the darling
child accompany them. Mrs. Maroney very much relieved him by deciding
that Flora had better remain at home and amuse her auntie, who would be
_so_ lonely without her!

Bright and early in the morning De Forest was up, and in the stable,
seeing that everything was just as it should be about his turn-out. He
then dressed himself carefully, ate a hurried breakfast, put on a
stylish driving coat, and, jumping into his buggy, drove down to Cox's.

Mrs. Maroney looked perfectly bewitching as she appeared, dressed in a
bright spring costume, and De Forest tingled in every vein, as he helped
her into the carriage and took a seat beside her. He grasped the reins,
and the handsome bays were off with a bound.

What would have been Maroney's feelings if he could have seen his wife
and her gay cavalier?

It was a beautiful April morning; the breeze was fresh and exhilarating;
the fields were clothed with verdure, and the trees loaded with buds.
From every side the birds poured forth their song. It was the season of
love, and who could be more completely "in season" than was De Forest?
The roads were in splendid condition, and they bowled along rapidly,
carrying on an animated conversation. When they arrived in Philadelphia,
De Forest drove to Mitchell's restaurant, opposite Independence Hall,
where Mrs. Maroney alighted, and he drove off to stable his horses,
intending to return at once and order a hearty dinner.




_CHAPTER XIII._


De Forest, after stabling his horses, proceeded to the Adams Express
Office and reported his success to the Vice-President and Mr. Bangs. He
was highly elated, and they laughed heartily to see how well the play
worked.

"By-the-by!" said De Forest, "I promised to go right back and meet her.
Oh! I almost forgot! two ladies have lately arrived in Jenkintown; I
think they are rich, at least the taller one is so reported. Her name is
Madam Imbert, and she is from the South. They don't go out much; go to
the gardens occasionally, and Mrs. Maroney is anxious to form their
acquaintance; I think I will get thoroughly acquainted with them
by-and-by."

The Vice-President and Bangs paid no attention to this, knowing that
Madam Imbert could take care of herself. They instructed De Forest to
attend to his own business, let other people alone, and with this
admonition sent him off.

What was De Forest's astonishment on returning to the restaurant to find
the _lady_ gone! He did not like it, but concluded the only thing he
could do was to wait. There are plenty of loafers around "Independence
Hall" at any time, day or night, so drinking a mint julep and lighting a
cigar, he joined the throng. He fumed and fretted for over an hour and a
half, when he saw Mrs. Maroney coming down the street, looking very
warm. He met her and she excused herself by saying that she had called
on a lady friend who lived on Spruce street, just above Twentieth, and
finding her sick had been unable to get away; that she had walked back
very fast and felt completely exhausted.

De Forest felt very sorry, and tenderly said she must not over-exert
herself. He then ordered dinner, which was served up regardless of cost,
and which they washed down with a few bottles of champagne of the very
best brand. They were soon the happiest of friends, and all thoughts of
separation had vanished from De Forest's mind.

It is strange what a difference there will sometimes be in reports.
About two hours after De Forest made his report, Green came in and
reported that according to orders he had "shadowed" De Forest and Mrs.
Maroney when they drove into the city.

De Forest had left Mrs. Maroney at Mitchell's and driven off while he
remained and kept his eye upon her. She left Mitchell's, walked over to
the Washington House and went into a room where she remained for over an
hour and a half. She left the hotel with Mr. Hastenbrook, who politely
bade her good-bye at the corner of Eighth street, while she went down to
Mitchell's and met De Forest, poor De Forest! but, "where ignorance is
bliss, 'tis folly to be wise." After dinner De Forest ordered up his
horses, and the happy pair, rendered extremely sentimental by the
mellowing influence of the wine, started on their homeward journey. They
stopped at a wayside inn a few miles out of the city, had a mint julep,
and then proceeded on their way home, both very happy, and De Forest
decidedly _spooney_.

Rivers had an easy time of it at Jenkintown. He got well in with Josh.
Cox and his friends Horton and Barclay. In fact any one with a little
money to spend on drinks could easily form their acquaintance. He became
so thick with Josh. that Josh. would gladly have taken him into his
house as a boarder had it not been for the fact that Mrs. Maroney and
her daughter were boarding with him and had taken up all the spare room.

Rivers did not become acquainted with Mrs. Maroney, as she was proud and
arrogant, and would disdain to form the acquaintance of any low "white
trash" like him. Whenever Mrs. Maroney went to Philadelphia he followed
her and excused his frequent absences to Josh. by stating that he went
up to get his arm dressed. That arm was indeed a very sore one, and his
physician must have made a small fortune out of him alone. When Rivers
found that Mrs. Maroney was going into town with her escort, he would go
in on the train and get to the outskirts of the city in time to meet
them as they drove in. She was generally accompanied by De Forest, who
had become her constant attendant. After they reached the city they had
to drive slowly, and so he could follow them with ease. De Forest had
been ordered to always drive to Mitchell's when he came in with Mrs.
Maroney, and Green was there ready to take charge of her when they
arrived, relieving Rivers, who would return by the evening train to
Jenkintown.

Mrs. Maroney had a great desire to become acquainted with Madam Imbert
and Miss Johnson. Madam Imbert appeared very sad, and it was currently
reported that she had brought the lively Miss Johnson with her to
console her and keep her in good spirits. The desired introduction was
brought about by an accident. Mrs. Maroney was taking her accustomed
stroll through the pleasure grounds, accompanied by De Forest and Flora.
Flora, as usual, full of fun, was running far ahead of her, when she saw
two ladies coming down a cross-path. As she turned her head to look at
them, still running at full speed, she caught her foot in the grass
borders of the walk and was thrown violently to the gravel pavement. The
ladies, who proved to be Madam Imbert and Miss Johnson, rushed to her,
and the Madam picked her up. Flora had scratched her hands badly, and
Madam Imbert had partially bound them up before her mother and De Forest
arrived. This led to an introduction, and Mrs. Maroney was not slow in
following it up.

The next day Madam Imbert received a call from Mrs. Maroney, who wished
to more fully return her thanks for her kindness to her daughter. The
acquaintance progressed slowly, Mrs. Maroney making all the advances.
There was something about Madam Imbert that seemed to draw one toward
her. Mrs. Maroney felt that the Madam was a better woman than she, and
that it did her good to pass an hour in her company. As she became more
familiar with her, she discovered that Madam Imbert received many
letters through the post, and often found her crying over them. The
Madam would put them hurriedly to one side, and greet her with a forced
smile which showed the efforts she made to hide her grief. Mrs. Maroney
deeply sympathized with her, as she compared her own gay and happy
life, free from care, to Madam Imbert's, from which every ray of
sunshine seemed to have been blotted out.

On one of the trips which Mrs. Maroney made to Philadelphia with De
Forest, Rivers, who had headed them off, as usual, at the outskirts of
the town, and was following them in, was observed by De Forest. De
Forest had seen the man with the sore arm just before they left
Jenkintown, and he now noticed him following them from block to block.
He had no idea that the man could be following Mrs. Maroney, and
supposed he must be following him. The idea flashed into his mind that
it must be some inquisitive boor, who was following him merely out of
prurient curiosity to see how he conducted himself with Mrs. Maroney. He
did not mention the matter to her, but as he saw the man still following
him his anger overflowed, and he determined that when he left Mrs.
Maroney at Mitchell's, he would find out what the fellow wanted with
him. When he arrived at Mitchell's Mrs. Maroney went in, and he drove to
the stables with the horses. Rivers met Green here, and turning Mrs.
Maroney over to him, came to the office of the Adams Express and
reported to Bangs.

Bangs gave him his instructions and he went out of the office by the
rear entrance. He saw De Forest in the alley, but as he had nothing to
do with him, let him go. He went down Chestnut street, turned into
Third, where the cars start from, and, as he had a few hours to spare,
determined to see some of his old friends. He had been loafing around
about an hour when one of the detectives of the city force stepped up
to him, and, tapping him on the shoulder, said: "You are my prisoner."

"What have I done to deserve arrest?" demanded Rivers, completely
dumbfounded.

"Never you mind that! you're my prisoner, and if you don't come along
quietly, you'll pay for it!" was all the consolation he got from the
detective.

"But I haven't done anything," pleaded Rivers.

"There, just shut up, now! I don't want any of your talk. I know my
business, and you're my prisoner; so just you come along."

Rivers, finding resistance useless, went with him. At the same time he
saw De Forest looking on, and seeming to rather enjoy his predicament.
As the detective was taking him up Chestnut street toward his
headquarters, they passed the Adams Express Office. Bangs happened to
step out at this moment, and was much amazed to see Rivers under arrest.
They said nothing, but Rivers looked steadily at Bangs, and Bangs at
him. Without a moment's reflection, Bangs rushed off to report the
arrest of Rivers to me. I was holding a consultation with Madam Imbert
and Miss Johnson, at the Merchants' Hotel. Everything was working well,
and I felt particularly happy, when Bangs rushed in and dispelled my
happiness by stating that Rivers had been arrested. At the news, my
heart fairly jumped into my mouth. I had felt success almost within my
grasp, and now my plans had fallen through entirely.

The thought at once flashed through my mind that Hastenbrook was at the
bottom of the trouble. He must be a friend of Maroney's in disguise. I
left Madam Imbert and the rest of the party at the Merchants' and
proceeded to the Adams Express Office, where I met the Vice-President. I
informed him of Rivers's arrest, and my fears that Maroney had
checkmated me. The Vice-President said that he thought he could entirely
remove my fears; that De Forest had come in from Jenkintown with Mrs.
Maroney, and had reported to him. He stated that he had fixed a fellow
nicely. A fellow had been loafing around Jenkintown for three or four
weeks. De Forest had observed him just before starting for the city, and
when he reached the suburbs discovered him dogging his movements
wherever he went. He drove to Mitchell's, and came over to report, and
the impudent fellow still kept on his track. He thereupon went to the
city detective's headquarters. The employes of the Adams Express were
well known, so that he had no difficulty in getting a detective, and,
walking out with him, he pointed out the man, and said he would like to
have him arrested, as he had been following him all the morning. The
detective kept watch of the man for over an hour, and then, finding that
he continued to loaf around, arrested him on the charge of vagrancy and
took him to the office, where he had him locked up until he could prefer
charges against him.

As may be easily imagined, I felt greatly relieved when I heard this.
The ridiculousness of the whole transaction crossed my mind, and as the
Vice-President equally appreciated the joke with me, it was some time
before we could control our risibles sufficiently to make arrangements
for the release of Rivers. I asked the Vice-President if he knew some
lawyer whom he could get to volunteer his services in behalf of Rivers.
He suggested one, and soon afterward a lawyer called at the detective's
office and demanded the charge on which Rivers was held. He found that
it was only a nominal one, and effected his release without any one's
being the wiser as to his business.

When De Forest returned to Jenkintown that evening, he was greatly
surprised to find Rivers there, as large as life, and drinking with his
friend Cox as if nothing had happened. De Forest could not tell how he
got out, but supposed he must have been let off on paying a fine; all he
knew was that the dirty loafer had completely spoiled his pleasure.

We will now leave Jenkintown for a time, and return to Montgomery.




_CHAPTER XIV._


Maroney passed the time very pleasantly. Mr. Floyd, of the Exchange, was
on friendly terms with him, notwithstanding the little difficulty they
had had in regard to Mrs. Maroney. He had no business to attend to and
passed a good deal of time in the office of the hotel, talking with
Porter and furnishing him with an abundant supply of good cigars.

Porter was a thoroughly good fellow, and had an inexhaustible fund of
stories and anecdotes, some of them rather "smutty," but they were just
the sort that suited Maroney, so that they had become the thickest of
friends. Sometimes Maroney would take a hand in a social game of euchre
at Patterson's, at other times he would take Porter or May out for a
drive behind "Yankee Mary," and as they drove along expatiate on her
many good qualities.

He seldom went into the express office, as, although he knew the
employes well, he felt that when he called they kept a sharp lookout on
his movements, and he did not appreciate such courtesy. He would
occasionally go into the express car to see the messenger, and it was
noticed that he always looked at the money pouch, though at the time
nothing special was thought of it.

He seemed never to tire of relating the incidents of his journey, and
would raise a hearty laugh by the manner in which he would describe his
adventures at Natchez, on the hill, or of his visit to the amphitheatre
of his friends, Spaulding & Rogers, in New Orleans. He was, to all
appearances, the happiest man in town. He often talked over with Porter,
his plans for the future, saying that, after his trial, he intended to
go into the livery stable business, and wanted Porter to become his
clerk. There was very little talk about the robbery in Montgomery, and
when any one would mention it to Maroney, he would say, "You will see
how it will end by-and-by," and always intimated that he would sue the
company for heavy damages after his vindication by trial. Very little
was said about Mrs. Maroney. She had few friends, indeed, yet these few
seemed to have warm feelings towards her; most of the ladies seemed
pleased that she had gone, leaving Maroney still with them.

Maroney passed a good deal of time in his lawyer's office and seemed to
be making elaborate preparations for his trial. He would often walk out
on the plank road towards the plantations, and Porter, by great
exertions, found that he was attracted by a lovely girl who lived some
three miles from the city. He never came into town with her; it would
have been considered improper for her to receive the attentions of a
married man, and a scandal would have been the inevitable result. There
appeared to be nothing wrong between them, and Porter became convinced
that it was a genuine love affair. The girl must have known she was
doing wrong in permitting attentions from a married man; but Maroney was
most enticing when he wished to be, and in this case loved the girl with
what he thought a pure love, and easily overcame any scruple she might
have in this regard. He was very friendly with Gus McGibony, the
Montgomery detective, and was always willing to do him a favor.

McGibony being the only _known_ detective at Montgomery, was considered
a big man in his way. Maroney always treated him as such, played cards
with him and called him up to take a drink when he treated. Gus always
spoke in the highest terms of Maroney, and had evidently taken sides in
the case, for, when he was asked his opinion in regard to the robbery,
he would say that Maroney was bound to win. In this opinion he was
supported by the whole community.

Porter would sometimes talk over the case with Watts, Judd & Jackson,
the legal advisers of the company. They were firmly of the opinion that
Maroney had committed the robbery, yet still they must say that there
was no proof by which he could be convicted when the case was brought
for trial.

Roch was having an easy time of it, for as long as Maroney remained in
Montgomery he had nothing to do but smoke his pipe and drink lager. He
was taking a good rest after his arduous labors "shadowing" Maroney on
his lengthy tour. At least the duties would have been arduous to any one
but Roch, who, however, rather enjoyed them, and longed to prepare for
another chase.

I knew that something decisive must soon be done, as the time set for
Maroney's trial was rapidly approaching. We--the Adams Express and
I--must move something.

Maroney was evidently preparing for his defense, and all was resting
quietly. As the reader well knows I had a sharp watch set on the
operations at Jenkintown and on all that occurred in Montgomery.

On the first of May, Maroney announced his intention of going North on a
visit. He was with Porter at Patterson's at the time and seemed to have
suddenly formed the resolution. He said he had consulted with his
counsel and they had informed him that he might as well go if he wished,
as there was nothing to detain him. He desired to see his wife and a few
friends, and so had determined to make a short visit to the North. His
old trunk, up in the garret of the hotel, amongst the unclaimed baggage,
was never looked at.

Every one knew it was Maroney's, and even the  porter, who
sometimes went up into the garret with Porter, to look up some article
that had been sent for, would say: "Dat's Massa 'Roney's trunk."

The day before Maroney started for the North he packed up everything he
needed for his journey in his large trunk, and then said to Porter, who
was assisting him: "Let's go up to my old trunk, I still have some
cigars in it, and I think it would be well to get some of them to smoke
on my journey."

Porter sent for Tom, and they all three went into the garret. Tom
unbound the trunk; Maroney took out some cigars and articles of wearing
apparel, and, having it tied up again, returned to his room. No further
notice was taken of the trunk by any one.

To place me on my guard, Porter immediately telegraphed me, in cipher,
of this intended move. The dispatch reached me in Chicago, and was
indeed news to me. What he intended to do in the North I could not
tell. I thought myself nearly blind in trying to solve the reasons of
his movement, and in arranging plans for his reception in the North.
What could we do? I was not a lawyer, but understood a good deal of the
law, and felt that now was the time to work something in our favor. I
soon made up my mind what course to pursue, and started the next day for
Philadelphia, to lay my plans before the Vice-President personally;
telegraphing Porter to get Roch ready to shadow Maroney. He was to
retain his Dutch disguise, as it had done good service before, and had
not been "spotted."

I arrived safely in Philadelphia, and found that I had not much preceded
Maroney.

On the second of May, Maroney, having everything in readiness for his
departure, went to the depot, accompanied by a great many friends, and
took the train for the North. Roch had reached the depot before him, and
had bought a through second-class ticket to Philadelphia, _via_
Baltimore. Nothing of any consequence took place until they reached
Baltimore. Maroney came through the cars only twice, seeming to be
confident that he was not followed. He took an occasional walk to
stretch his legs, but kept quietly to himself the whole of the journey.

At Baltimore Roch was met by Bangs and Green, who relieved him from duty
when they got the "spot" on Maroney. They found Roch pretty well
exhausted, as he had not slept on the journey, and had been obliged to
sit in a very cramped position.

On getting into Philadelphia, Maroney went to the Washington House,
while Roch went to the Merchants' Hotel, where he immediately retired,
and had a good long sleep.

At Jenkintown all went quietly. Mrs. Maroney was well loved by De
Forest, well "shadowed" by Rivers and Green, and greatly benefited by
the pure society of Madam Imbert. She said to Madam Imbert, a few days
before the arrival of Maroney: "I am happy to state that my husband will
be with me in a few days. I am _so_ delighted at the prospect of meeting
him once more, as he has been separated from me a great deal. We shall
have a splendid time in Philadelphia and New York; perhaps spend the
summer in Jenkintown, and then go South, _via_ Cincinnati and
Louisville; passing through Kentucky and Tennessee, into Alabama, and
stopping at all the cities on the way."

On the fifth of May she packed up her trunks, and Flora and she were
driven to the Jenkintown station. De Forest offered to take them into
the city in his buggy, but the offer was declined, with thanks, and they
left for Philadelphia without escort.

At Philadelphia she called a carriage, and, with Flora, was driven to
the Washington House. In a short time Maroney arrived, entered his name
on the register, and was shown to his wife's room, and the two after an
eventful separation, were thus once more united.

Having no need of Rivers's services at Jenkintown, he was called to
Philadelphia, to "shadow" the parties there. Madam Imbert and Miss
Johnson of course remained.

On the sixth of May, Maroney mailed a letter, which the "shadow"
discovered was directed to "William M. Carter, Locksmith, William st.,
N. Y." A note was taken of this, and as soon as possible Bangs left for
New York, to interview Mr. Carter. He found that Carter was one of the
best locksmiths in the city, and inclined to be a good fellow.

Bangs, representing the New York office of the Adams Express, gave him
some jobs, making keys, etc.; and finally brought him a key to the lock
of the pouch used by the company, and asked him to make two just like
it.

Carter said he could make them, and after examining the key for some
time, said: "But stop a little; a friend of mine, now in Philadelphia,
sent me a draft of a key he wanted made, and it is almost exactly like
this!" Producing the draft, he exclaimed, "it is exactly the same!" He
handed it to Bangs, who found it a finely executed drawing of the pouch
key, made by Maroney. Bangs paid no attention to this circumstance, but
Carter said he would not make the key, as he did not know to what use it
might be put. He would return the draft to his friend and say he could
not make it. Bangs managed to get a copy of the draft before it was
returned.

On discovering this, I saw through Maroney's plan at once; he wished to
have a key made similar to the pouch key, and introduce it as evidence
in his trial that others than the agents might have keys to the
Company's pouches. Two days before Maroney met his wife in Philadelphia,
I held a consultation with the Vice-President and Bangs in the office of
the Express Co. I maintained that it was the Company's duty to arrest
Maroney. They had a right to bring suit against an agent of theirs
wherever found. I urged him to lay the matter before the Company's
counsel in Philadelphia. If we could get him in prison here all would be
well, and the expense and trouble of following him from place to place
would be entirely avoided. It was our duty to keep him in jail, where I
could introduce a detective, disguised as a fellow-prisoner, whose duty
would be to get into his confidence and finally draw from him his secret
and learn his plans for the future. I presented my ideas so clearly that
the Vice President was convinced that the plan was a good one, and he at
once saw St. George Tucker Campbell, the eminent lawyer, laid the whole
case before him and asked his opinion. They looked the whole case over,
and he admitted that my plan was a good one. He said we might be able to
hold Maroney for a short time, but he really did not think we could long
do so. He might be able to fight it out for three or four weeks, but by
that time Maroney would be sure to effect his release. He would be so
excited over his daily expectation of effecting his release that it
would be impossible for me to make a proper effort to mould his mind to
my purpose. He produced sufficient evidence to prove to me that it would
be bad policy to try my plan in Philadelphia. This was a crushing blow,
and I felt as if a load had been placed upon my breast. Mr. Campbell
left me one ray of hope by stating that he was not fully posted in the
laws of the State of New York, and that I might be enabled to carry out
my purpose there. Leaving Bangs in charge at Philadelphia, the
Vice-President and I started for New York. We had a meeting with the
President and other officers of the Company, and determined to lay the
matter before Clarence A. Seward, the Company's counsellor in New York.
He had just been engaged by the Company, as I had been, and so far had
attended only to some small matters for them. The Vice-President
notified him to meet us at the Astor House, where the case was laid
before him. After looking up the points of law involved, he decided that
we could hold Maroney in New York. We then instructed him to get the
papers in readiness, so that the moment Maroney stepped into New York he
should be arrested. How happy did I now feel! All care was gone, the
weight of sorrow had been lifted from my breast as if by the hand of
magic: hope had taken the place of despair, and I returned to
Philadelphia with renewed energy and firmness, bound to win beyond a
peradventure.

I now assigned to Green the duty of shadowing Mrs. Maroney, and to
Rivers the duty of shadowing Maroney. I gave them strict orders to keep
separate, and to make a move only when the persons they were shadowing
moved. After Maroney had washed himself and removed his travel-soiled
garments, he had a long confidential talk with his wife, played with and
caressed Flora, and then walked out with them on Chestnut street. They
proceeded as far as Eighth, apparently amusing themselves by looking
into the shop windows, and then returned and did not leave the hotel
during the evening, passing the time in their rooms. At eleven they
retired, thus allowing their "shadows," Green and Rivers to retire also.




_CHAPTER XV._


Saturday, the seventh of May, was a busy one for my operatives. Maroney
left the hotel, followed by Rivers, walked around, visited different
stores, and finally stopped at the corner of Vine and Third streets. In
five or ten minutes, who should come along and meet him but Mrs.
Maroney, shadowed by Green? It seemed strange to Rivers that they should
have taken this roundabout way of meeting, and he could not understand
the reason for it. When Mrs. Maroney came up, Maroney took her arm, and
together they walked to the office of Alderman G. W. Williams. They
remained in the office some fifteen minutes, and on coming out went
directly to the Washington House. In a few minutes they again appeared,
accompanied by Flora, and getting into a carriage were driven to the
ferry, crossed over to Camden, and took the train for New York.

Rivers, who was the fastest runner, started on a keen run for the Adams
Express Office and reported to me that the Maroney family were under way
for New York. Bangs was in New York, so I telegraphed to him, informing
him of their departure for that city. He immediately found Mr. Seward
and had everything in readiness to give them a warm reception.

But what had they been doing at Alderman Williams's? It was better to
find out at once. I supposed he had been executing some deed. I
consulted with the Vice-President about the person most likely to
procure the desired information from Alderman Williams. After due
consideration, we decided that Mr. Franklin, head of the city
detectives, was the best man for the purpose. Franklin had always been
square and honest in all his dealings, but I determined not to put too
much confidence in him. I am always suspicious of men until I know them
thoroughly, or have them employed in my establishment; I therefore
instructed Rivers to watch Alderman Williams, and learn all that he
could.

The Vice-President sent for Franklin, and employed him to find out what
had transpired at the Alderman's. Franklin was a genial man, a good
talker, and devoted to his duty. He proved himself to be the best man we
could have procured for our purpose. He was well acquainted with
Alderman Williams, and strolled along past his office. The Alderman was
seated with his feet cocked up on the window-sill, smoking a cigar, and,
not having much to do, hailed Franklin as he went by, asking him to come
in. Franklin accepted the invitation, and lighting a cigar which the
Alderman handed him, took a seat.

The Alderman had witnessed an amusing scene, and, knowing Franklin's
fondness for a good story, related it to him. Franklin thought the story
a good one, laughed heartily at it, and then told one or two of his own.
He finally turned to the Alderman, and said; "I say, Williams, this is
rather dry work. What do you say to going down to the restaurant with
me, and having some oysters and a bottle of champagne to wash them
down?"

Williams, like most Aldermen, was fond of the good things of this earth,
and accepted the proposition without waiting for a second asking. He
locked up his office, and they went down to the restaurant. Franklin
gave his orders, and the delicious bivalves were soon smoking before
them. He called for champagne, and under its exhilarating influence grew
wittier and wittier, and kept the Alderman in such roars of laughter
that he could scarcely swallow his oysters. At length Franklin told a
story of a man by the name of Maroney, who had come to the city, and
getting into rather questionable company, had been fleeced of quite a
large amount of money. He had sought Franklin's aid in ferreting out the
thieves, but finding it would be necessary to disclose his name and the
circumstances in which he was robbed, and that the facts would find
their way into the daily papers, he concluded to bear the loss and say
no more about it.

[Illustration: "Franklin gave his orders and the delicious bivalves were
soon smoking before them. He called for champagne, and under its
exhilarating influence grew wittier and wittier, and kept the alderman
in such roars of laughter that he could scarcely swallow his
oysters."--Page 125.]

As he finished this little story the Alderman laughed heartily, and
remarked: "I'll bet five dollars it is the same man."

"Why, what do you mean?" inquired Franklin.

"Well, a man named Nathan Maroney came to my office yesterday with a
wealthy widow, Mrs. Irvin, and I married them. I got a good big fee,
too, and I'll bet five dollars he is the same man that called on you. Of
course he would not want it known that he frequented such places just as
he was going to be married, and so did not prosecute. Don't you see?"

They both laughed heartily, and Franklin, having learned all he wanted
to, soon took his departure. He reported to the Vice-President that
Maroney had been married the day before, and the Vice-President
immediately communicated the news to me.

I hurriedly thought the matter over. I had all the points on Mrs.
Maroney that I wanted. I could see that there was some cogent reason for
Maroney's marrying Mrs. Irvin. He wanted to place her where she would
tell no stories. There were only two ways to do this. Maroney, the
thief, had either to murder his mistress, or to make her his wife. I
could see plainly through the whole transaction. Maroney, after
committing the robbery, had, in exact accordance with my theory, found
that he needed some one in whom he could confide, and with whom he could
ease his overburdened mind by disclosing the facts of the robbery. Who
could be a safer person than his mistress? Her interests were identical
with his; he had gained her the entree to good society; had taken her
from a house of infamy, where she was shunned and scorned, and by
allowing her the use of his name, had placed her in a position to
_demand_ respect.

In all things she seemed devoted to his interests, and so far as he
knew, her conduct while with him had been beyond reproach. What could be
more natural than his selecting her and pouring into her ear the details
of his crime?

How well it must have made him feel to find in her not a stern moralist
who would turn from him with scorn and point to the heinousness of his
crime, but a sweet enthusiast, with ideas moulded to suit his, who
would encourage and renew his feelings of ultimate success and almost
rob crime of its horrors!

What a happy moment it must have been to her to hear Maroney give vent
to his pent-up feelings! How she must have looked forward with delight
to the coming time when Maroney, rich with his ill-gotten spoils, should
place her in a position _far_ above what she had ever anticipated
reaching! How her eyes must have flashed as she thought how she could
then return with redoubled force the scorn that had been shown to her!
She had only one more step to take and then her life of shame would be
completely covered up: Maroney _must_ marry her!!

She now had him in her power; she would be true to him if he would be to
her; but if he _refused_ her request to make her an honest woman in the
eyes of the world, woe be to him!!


     "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."


She did not at once force the matter on Maroney, but waited until she
reached the North, and then gradually unfolded to him the necessity of
his marrying her. It was a bitter pill for him to swallow, but unless he
chose to add murder to his other crimes, was his only means of safety.

The necessity was rendered all the more distasteful by the fact that he
was now really in love with a girl who possessed all the qualifications
which render the sex so dear to man. He had formed a plan to get rid of
his mistress, Mrs. Irvin, as soon as possible after his trial, and then
to marry the girl he loved, but he was doomed to disappointment. As he
had not the courage to kill Mrs. Irvin, he had been forced North to
marry her. He therefore was determined to kill two birds with one stone,
and while North have some keys made to fit the company's pouch.

I sat for some hours in the office of the General Superintendent,
cogitating over the matter, and finally concluded to have the notice of
the marriage published. I wrote out the notice in the usual form and
sent it to the _Philadelphia Press_. It read:


                                "MARRIED.


     "MARONEY--IRVIN--At Philadelphia, on May 7th, 1859, by Alderman G.
     W. Williams, Nathan Maroney, of Montgomery, Ala., to Mrs. Irvin, of
     Jenkintown, Penn.

     "Montgomery papers please copy."


I sent copies of the _Press_ containing this notice to all the
Montgomery papers, enclosing the usual one dollar note to pay for its
insertion in their columns, and in a few days the news was blazoned
forth in Montgomery. But I had not finished with it yet. I got the names
of all the ladies with whom Maroney was acquainted in Montgomery and the
surrounding country, also of all his male friends, and, buying a large
number of the _Press_ containing this notice, I had copies directed to
these persons; and also to his friends in Atlanta, Chattanooga,
Nashville, Memphis, Natchez, New Orleans and Mobile, not forgetting the
_highly respectable_ ladies at the pleasant house at Chattanooga, or at
Natchez, on the hill. These papers I sent to Porter by express,
directing him to mail them. Wherever I could learn of any of Maroney's
friends, I furnished them with copies of the _Press_. They must have
thought some one very kind to take so much interest in him, or more
likely thought he had sent them himself. I knew I was making capital for
the company by having the notice so fully circulated in Montgomery. The
inhabitants were amazed when they saw it, and terribly indignant at
Maroney's conduct.

While it was true that Maroney and his wife had never mingled much in
society in Montgomery, still he had brought a woman there and openly
lived with her as his wife, who had not only led a life of infamy prior
to her meeting with Maroney, but who, even then, was but his mistress.
It was an outrage upon decency, and as such was felt and resented. From
Maroney's personal popularity and agreeable manners, there were many who
believed in his innocence, still more who did not desire his conviction.
His marriage thinned the ranks of the latter and entirely wiped out
almost every trace of the former. The man who would live with and
introduce a prostitute as his wife, was regarded as never too good to be
guilty of robbery or any other crime.

The sympathy which had been felt and expressed for Maroney by those who
regarded him as fighting single-handed against a wealthy and powerful
corporation, was now regarded as having been worse than thrown away. It
was at once and permanently withdrawn. My move had proved a perfect
success and I now felt much easier about the result of the final trial
to be held in Montgomery.

We left Maroney, his wife and Flora on the cars, bound for New York, to
enjoy their honey-moon. They were shadowed by Green, and he noticed
that Mrs. Maroney appeared supremely happy. She had accomplished her
purpose; she was now a legally married woman. Maroney was in good
spirits, but must have had a hard battle to keep them up. He was now
enjoying some of the sweets of crime, being forced to leave the girl he
loved and marry a common prostitute. He had sold his freedom for gold,
and although outwardly he appeared calm and happy, inwardly he was
racked with contending emotions. What would he now not have given to be
back in his old position, free from the taint of crime, free to do as he
wished? But the fatal step had been taken; he could not retrace it, he
must go on, and when he won, as he now felt sure he would, could he not
find some quiet way to get rid of his wife? They were rapidly nearing
Jersey City, and when they reached there Mrs. Maroney grasped Maroney's
arm, and taking Flora by the hand, walked aboard the ferry-boat. No
newly-married bride ever felt more exultant than she. She glanced with
scorn at the hurrying crowd, and as they roughly jostled her, felt
contaminated by the touch. They little dreamed of the reception that
awaited them in New York. The news of their marriage had been flashed
over the wires to Bangs, and he had made all preparations to give them a
warm reception. Bangs had called for Mr. Seward, and he having all the
papers ready, drove to the Marshal's office. Seward was a great favorite
with every one, and had no trouble in getting United States Marshal
Keefe and a deputy to accompany him. They were all engaged when he
called, but readily postponed their other business to attend to him.
They, with Bangs, proceeded to the ferry and crossed over to Jersey
City, to meet the train coming from Philadelphia.

When Maroney and his wife stepped on the ferry boat they did not notice
the consultation of Green, Bangs and Marshal Keefe. When the boat
touched the wharf in New York, all was hurry and bustle. Maroney, with
his wife and Flora, stood one side for a few moments, waiting for the
crush to be over, and then stepped proudly out for the wharf. He had
taken scarcely three steps on the soil of New York before he was
confronted by Marshal Keefe.

"You are my prisoner!" said he. "Nathan Maroney, I demand that you
immediately deliver to me fifty thousand dollars, the property of the
Adams Express, which you feloniously have in your possession."

[Illustration: "_You are my prisoner!" said he. "Nathan Maroney, I
demand that you immediately deliver to me fifty thousand dollars, the
property of the Adams Express Company._"--Page 131.]

If a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet he could not have been more
astonished. The demand of the Marshal, delivered in a loud, harsh tone,
and coming so unexpectedly, completely unnerved him, and for a moment he
shook like a leaf. His head swam around, and he felt as though he would
drop to the ground. By a desperate effort he gained control of himself.
His wife hung speechless on his arm, while little Flora grasped her
mother's dress, and gazed with a startled, frightened look at the
Marshal and the rapidly gathering crowd.

"I have no money belonging to the Express Company!" said Maroney, and
supposing that that was all that was wanted with him, he attempted to
force himself past the Marshal.

"Not so fast!" exclaimed the Marshal, taking hold of one of Maroney's
arms, while his deputy stepped forward to assist him, if Maroney made
any resistance. "Not so fast, you must come with me!"

Maroney could scarcely realize his situation; it was to him a horrid
dream. In a few moments he would awake and laugh at it. But the jeering
crowd, the stern officers of the law, his weeping wife and her
frightened child, formed a scene which was indelibly stamped on his
memory never to be obliterated. His wife insisted that her husband
should be allowed to accompany her to the Astor House, and the Marshal
finally consented. At the Astor House he saw his wife and Flora in their
room, in the presence of Marshal Keefe, his deputy, and Bangs. No words
passed between them. His new-made bride of only six hours was bathed in
tears--what a honey-moon! Maroney was almost in tears himself, but he
choked them back. He kissed his wife and Flora, and motioning to the
officers that he was ready, followed them to Eldridge street jail.

How terribly must he have felt when the heavy door of his cell was
bolted upon him, and he was left in solitude to brood over his position.
How he must have cursed the moment when he married Mrs. Irvin. He did so
merely to save himself, and now he was in prison! What would he not have
given to undo what only six hours before he had been so anxious to
consummate! What a blow it would have been to him if he could have known
the efforts I was then making to disseminate through the South the news
of his marriage; but this I did not intend he should know. Mrs. Maroney
thought that Maroney would soon be out of jail, but wondered why he had
been arrested in New York. She concluded that the Company had
determined on the plan of suddenly confronting him and charging him with
the crime, hoping that if guilty he would break down and make a
confession. He had passed through the trying ordeal unscathed and most
likely would be liberated in the morning. She little thought they had
been separated never more to be united.




_CHAPTER XVI._


Mr. Seward had done his work well. I had little fear that Maroney would
get out, as his bail was fixed at one hundred thousand dollars--double
the amount of the robbery.

The question now arose: What shall we do with Maroney? I held a
consultation with the Vice-President, Seward, and Bangs, and suggested
the propriety of placing one of my detectives, named White, in jail with
him. White was in Chicago, but I could send for him and have him in
readiness for the work in a few days. White was a shrewd, smart man to
act under orders, and nothing more was required. I proposed that he be
introduced to to the jail in the following way: He was to assume the
character of a St. Louis pork-packer. It was to be charged against him
that he had been dealing largely in hogs in the West, had come to New
York with a quantity of packed pork of his own to sell; and also had had
a lot consigned to him to sell on commission; he had disposed of all the
pork, pocketed all the proceeds, and then disappeared, intending to
leave for Europe, but had been discovered and arrested. The amount
involved in the case should be about thirty-seven thousand dollars. It
was part of my plan to introduce a young man, who should pretend to be a
nephew of White's, and who should call on him and do his outside
business. I had a good man for this work, in the person of Mr. Shanks.
His duties would be to call at the jail daily, see his uncle White,
carry his letters, go to his lawyers, run all his errands, etc.

White was not to force his acquaintance on Maroney, or any of the
prisoners, but to hold himself aloof from them all. He was to pass a
good deal of time in writing letters, hold hurried consultations with
his nephew and send him off with them. Shanks was to be obliging, and if
any of the prisoners requested him to do them favors, he was to
willingly consent.

Very few people outside of a prison know how necessary it is to have a
friend who will call on prisoners and do little outside favors for them.
No matter how popular a man may be, or how many true friends he thinks
he has, he will find if he is thrust into prison, that all of them will
very likely desert him, and he will then keenly feel the necessity of
having some one even to run his errands. If he has no friend to act for
him, he will have to pay dearly for every move he makes. A man like
Shanks would soon be popular with the prisoners, and have his hands full
of commissions.

There were a good many objections made to my plan, but with Mr. Seward's
assistance, all its weak points were cleared away, and it was made
invulnerable.

I telegraphed, ordering White and Shanks to come on to New York, and,
leaving Bangs in charge there, I started in a few days for Philadelphia.

Green was still employed in "shadowing" Mrs. Maroney, and kept a close
watch on her movements. On the morning after Maroney's arrest she
visited him in the Eldridge street jail, leaving Flora in the Astor
House. They had a long, private interview, after which she enquired of
the Marshal the amount of bail necessary to effect her husband's
release. He informed her that the bail had been fixed at one hundred
thousand dollars. She seemed surprised at the large amount, returned and
conversed with Maroney, then left the jail, and getting into a carriage,
was driven to Thirty-first street. Green hailed a passing cab and
followed at his ease. When she stopped, he had his hackman drive on a
few blocks and turn down a cross street, where he stopped him. He told
the driver to await his return, and getting out of the hack, walked
slowly down the street, keeping a sharp lookout on the house she went
into. Mrs. Maroney remained in the house about half an hour, and then
came out and was driven to Pearl street. Here she went into a large
building occupied by an extensive wholesale clothing establishment,
remained some time, and then came out with a gentleman who accompanied
her to the Eldridge street jail. Green remained in his carriage. Mrs.
Maroney and the gentleman soon came out; he bade her good-bye, and she
drove to several business-houses in the city.

Maroney received several calls during the day; he was very irritable,
and seemed much depressed in spirits.

Mrs. Maroney returned to the Astor House at dark, weary, depressed, and
despondent.

Green reported to Bangs that it was easy to read what she had
accomplished. Maroney had a number of friends in New York, and she had
been to see if they would not go on his bail-bond. They had all refused,
some giving one excuse, some another, and the desired bail _could not
be procured_.

For the purpose of finding his prospects, I had some of his friends
interviewed, and managed to learn that the friend on whom Maroney
principally relied to furnish bail, was one whom he had met in the South
when he was a drummer, but who had now become a partner in the house.

Mrs. Maroney called on him; he expressed great sympathy for Maroney and
her, but could not go on his bond, as the articles of association of the
firm forbade any of the partners signing bonds, etc. In two days it was
discovered that Maroney had no prospects of getting the required bail.
Some of his friends, whom he importuned to assist him, called at the
express office to find the reasons for his incarceration. They were
generally met by the President or by the General Superintendent and
informed that Maroney had robbed the company of ten thousand dollars at
one time and forty thousand dollars at another, and it was for this that
he was now in prison. The gentlemen saw at once the risk they would run
in going his bail and concluded not to venture.

I was convinced that if the public knew he had stolen fifty thousand
dollars and that the company were bound to prosecute him, he could not
procure bail, and so it turned out.

Mrs. Maroney called at the jail several times and did everything in her
power to procure bail, but finally gave up in despair. She had a long
interview with Maroney, then drove to the Astor House, paid her bill,
and, getting into a carriage with Flora, went to Jersey City and took
the train for Philadelphia.

I had sent Roch to New York to "shadow" her and had brought Rivers to
Philadelphia with me, as no shadow was needed for Maroney. When Mrs.
Maroney left New York, Green turned her over to Roch and he accompanied
her to Philadelphia. I had been informed of her departure and had Rivers
ready to meet her in Camden on her arrival.

She arrived safely. Rivers relieved Roch and he reported to me. I
supposed she would remain for the night in Philadelphia, but was
disappointed, as she went directly to the North Pennsylvania station and
took the cars for Jenkintown.

I was not quite prepared for this move, but by four in the morning I was
in a buggy on my road to Jenkintown. When I arrived I put up at
Stemples's, had an early breakfast, and seized upon a favorable
opportunity to have a short conversation with Madam Imbert. I hurriedly
instructed her to try and meet Mrs. Maroney, and if possible draw from
her an account of what had happened and learn her plans for the future.
I then got into my buggy and drove back to the city. It was a beautiful,
bright morning, and the drive was very delightful.

Madam Imbert, accompanied by Miss Johnson, went for her accustomed
stroll in the garden. They walked around for some time and were about
returning when they met Mrs. Maroney and Flora. Miss Johnson took charge
of Flora, who was her special favorite, and drew her to one side to have
a romp while Mrs. Maroney and the Madam strolled along together.

Mrs. Maroney asked very anxiously about the Madam's health and seemed
to be much pained when she learned that she was very poorly.

"Mrs. Maroney," said Madam Imbert, "I fear you find me poor company,
indeed. Your life must be happy beyond expression. You have a kind
husband, a sweet child, everything that makes life enjoyable! while I am
separated from my dear husband, far away, with no one to love me! no one
to care for me! I have bitter trouble, rendered all the harder to bear
by the fact that I have to brood over it alone. I have not one friend in
this wide world to whom I can fly for consolation. No! not one! My life
is unspeakably lonely. You will forgive me for not being more gay; I
cannot help it! I strive to be, but it is impossible. I often fear that
my melancholy has a chilling effect on those around me, and that they
think me cold and heartless!"

"Madam Imbert, my dear Madam, don't say that you are thought to be cold
and heartless! Every one feels that you are suffering some great sorrow,
and all are drawn towards you. As for me I have always tried to secure
the sympathy of my lady friends, but I have only half succeeded. You are
the first one in whom I have ever felt that I could confide, the first
whom I wished to be my friend. If you are in trouble and feel the need
of a friend, why not rely on me? make me your confidante."

"Mrs. Maroney, you do not know what you ask! My story is a sad one,
indeed. I already value your friendship too highly to risk losing it. If
you were to know my history, I fear you would turn from me in disgust."

Madam Imbert's tears flowed freely; she leaned on Mrs. Maroney for
support. Mrs. Maroney turned into one of the side paths and they took a
seat on a bench. After much persuasion, Madam Imbert was prevailed on to
disclose her secret.

She described to Mrs. Maroney the many virtues of her husband; told how
wealthy he was, and then, with many sobs, and much apparent reluctance,
stated that he was enticed into committing forgeries; that he was
arrested, tried, convicted and sent to the State prison for ten years,
and that now she was debarred from seeing him.

She was greatly relieved when she found that Mrs. Maroney did not turn
from her in horror on discovering that she was the wife of a convict. On
the contrary, Mrs. Maroney said:

"It was _too_ bad, indeed!"

She had suffered also, worse even than Madam Imbert, as her husband was
innocent. Things looked bad for him at present, but all would be bright
by-and-by. They had plenty of friends, but when they wanted them, they
were not to be found.

She said that she was going South soon, but did not intend to stay long.
She did not say that her husband was in jail, but merely that he was in
some trouble.

Madam Imbert replied that it was very hard; that there seemed nothing
but trouble in this world, and they were both shedding tears copiously,
when who should come in sight but De Forest?

De Forest was truly in love with Mrs. Maroney. He had heard that morning
that she had returned, and, finding that she was in the garden, had
started in pursuit of her, and arrived at a most inopportune moment. As
he came in view, Mrs. Maroney exclaimed: "Here comes that awkward fool!
He is such a hateful creature! I'd like to poison him!"

De Forest came gaily along, expecting to be received with open arms, but
instead found both the ladies in tears. "O ladies, what's the matter?
Crying!" The ladies said nothing, but Mrs. Maroney gave him a scornful
look which made him tremble. He had, however, broken up the interview,
and the party separated, Madam Imbert saying that she would call in the
afternoon.

De Forest walked off with Mrs. Maroney, but he found that she had
changed wonderfully, and he got nothing from her but cold looks and
sharp answers. He could not understand her conduct, and the next day
came into the Express Office, and mournfully reported that Mrs. Maroney
had acted in a manner he could not understand, and that he feared some
one had cut him out.

Rivers kept a close watch on Mrs. Maroney, and in the afternoon called
at the house to see Josh. He found the house in confusion, and an
improvised washing of Mrs. Maroney's and Flora's clothing going on.
Josh. was carrying water, and doing all he could to help the washing
along. "D----d busy to-day," said he; "the old woman got an idea into
her head to wash, and although I protested against it, I had to give in
and haul the water."

"Oh!" said Mrs. Cox to Josh., "you are always in my way."

Rivers took this as a rather broad hint to him that he was in the way,
and so asked Josh. to come up town with him. Josh. willingly acquiesced,
and they started out. On the way they met Barclay and Horton, and
adjourned to Stemples's. Rivers treated, and then endeavored to find
out from Cox the reasons of his wife's hurry and bustle. Cox told him
that his wife had taken a sudden notion to wash, and although he had
strongly objected, she had impressed him into the service, and set him
at work doing the chores and hauling the water.

Rivers tried to get more explicit information, but could not. Cox, with
all his shiftlessness, knew when to hold his tongue; and so, after
plying him with several drinks, Rivers was obliged to let him go,
without finding out what he wanted. Rivers felt that something important
was under way. He had followed Mrs. Maroney on her hurried journey to
Jenkintown; had seen her hold a long confidential interview with Madam
Imbert, which was broken up by the unwelcome appearance of De Forest,
and knew of the preparations going on at Cox's. So he was on the alert.




_CHAPTER XVII._


In the afternoon Madam Imbert called on Mrs. Maroney, leaving Miss
Johnson at home. Mrs. Maroney met her kindly, and poured into her ear a
tale of sorrow. She told Madam Imbert that she was going South for a
short visit, but that she would soon return, and then they could comfort
each other. She did not mention where she was going, or allude in any
way to Montgomery.

Madam Imbert did not deem it good policy to ask questions too closely,
and, although she very much wished to get information, she remembered my
strict orders against running any risk, and did not ask.

In the evening Rivers went up to Stemples's and took a seat in the
bar-room, as it was the best place to gain information of what was going
on. He had not been long there before Josh. Cox came in and asked for
Stemples. "He is in the stable," said Rivers; "I will go and get him for
you."

"No," said Cox, "don't disturb yourself," and started for the stable
himself.

Rivers very politely accompanied him, but was unable to overhear what
was said, as Cox drew Stemples to one side and spoke to him in a low
tone. Stemples said, "All right!" and Cox started off. Rivers stopped
him, and asked him to take a drink.

"I don't mind if I do," answered Josh.; and after drinking he said: "I
am in a d----d hurry," and was gone. "There is one drink gone to no
purpose," muttered Rivers, as he made his way to the barn. He found
Stemples hurriedly harnessing up his team, and turned in to help him.

"Strange fellow, that Cox!" remarked Stemples. "He wanted to get my team
and not let me know where he was going. I told him he could not have it
if he did not say where he was going, and he then said he was going to
Chestnut Hill, a few miles this side of Philadelphia, but I'll bet he is
going into the city. He said he would have the team back before morning,
so I finally consented to let him have it."

This was startling news to Rivers. There were no horses in the town that
he could hire, and he had no time to harness them if there had been. He
managed to see Madam Imbert, and reported to her his predicament.

"They are going into the city," said she, "and you must follow them at
all hazards, even if you have to run every step of the way."

Rivers had no time to lose. Stemples's team was at the door, and in a
few minutes Josh. came for it and drove down to his house. Mrs. Maroney
and Flora were waiting for him, and, as he drove up, got into the wagon,
while Josh. hoisted up their trunks.

Rivers had no conveyance, but he was determined not to be outdone; he
was young and athletic, and as they drove off he started after them on a
keen run. He knew he had a twelve-mile race before him, but felt equal
to the task. The night was very dark, and he had to follow by sound.
This was an advantage to him, as it compelled Cox to drive somewhat
slower than he otherwise would have done, and rendered it impossible for
them to see him from the wagon. On and on he plunged through the
darkness, following the sound of the hoofs and the wheels. The moments
seemed to have turned to hours; when would they ever reach the city? At
times he felt that he must give up and drop by the way; but he forced
the feeling back, and plunged on with the determination of winning. When
they reached the outskirts of the city Josh. reduced his speed, so that
Rivers easily followed without attracting attention. Josh. drove to the
corner of Prime and Broad streets, to the depot of the Philadelphia,
Wilmington and Baltimore Railroad, and assisted Mrs. Maroney and Flora
to alight. As usual, there was a great crowd at the depot, and Rivers,
mixing with it, followed Mrs. Maroney and Flora to the ticket-office
without being observed by them, and went close enough to them to hear
her ask for tickets to Montgomery. Rivers knew no time was to be lost;
it was a quarter past ten, and the train left at ten minutes past
eleven. He rushed out of the depot, where he saw Josh. getting the
baggage checked, and hailing a hack, said to the driver: "Here is a
five-dollar bill for you if you will drive me to the Merchants' Hotel
and back in time to catch the train."

[Illustration: "_On and on he plunged through the darkness, following
the sound of the hoofs and the wheels; at times he felt that he must
give up and drop by the way, but he forced the feeling back and plunged
on with the determination of winning._"--Page 145.]

"All right," said the driver, and springing to his seat he put his
horses to a full gallop, and whirled off toward the hotel.

Bangs had run down from New York the same evening to consult me on some
matters, and he and I were sitting in a room at the Merchants', smoking
our cigars, preparatory to retiring after a hard day's work, when
Rivers rushed in, and gasped out: "Get Roch up. Mrs. Maroney and
daughter are on the train bound for Montgomery."

We threw our cigars out of the window, and had Roch up, dressed as a
Dutchman, his trunk packed, and he into the carriage with us on the way
to the P., W. & B. R. R. before he was fully awake. I turned out all the
money I had with me--not a great deal, as it was so late--and rapidly
gave him his instructions as we drove along. We arrived at the station
just in time. Roch rushed to the ticket office, said "Second-class,
Montgomery," received and paid for his ticket, and sprang upon the last
car of the train as it slowly drew out of the station. There were no
sleeping-cars at the time, which was fortunate for him, as, if there had
been, he might not have been allowed to get on the train. In a moment
the train disappeared in the gloom, and Mrs. Maroney and Flora were
kindly provided with an escort, in the person of Roch. Leaving them to
pursue their journey, we will now return to Maroney, in the Eldridge
street jail.

White and Shanks soon came on from Chicago, and Bangs gave them full
instructions as to their duties. White was ordered to follow his
instructions implicitly, and not to attempt to move too fast. Bangs
arranged a cipher for him, to be used in his correspondence, and he
learned it thoroughly, so as not to need a key.

Having thoroughly posted them, Bangs turned his attention to procuring
the arrest of White. He secured the services of a common, one-horse
lawyer, and placed the case in his hands. The lawyer felt highly honored
at being employed in a case of such magnitude, involving thirty-seven
thousand dollars, and remarked that he would soon have Mr. John White
secure in prison. He procured the necessary papers and placed them in
the hands of the Marshal to execute.

Bangs knew just where White was to be found, but gave the Marshal a big
job before coming across him. He searched the hotels, saloons, lawyers'
offices, etc., going up to the different places, peeping in, and then
going off on not finding him. He was doing an immense business hunting
for White. Toward evening White was discovered talking to Shanks. The
Marshal took him into custody and conducted him to the Eldridge street
jail. Shanks, being a stranger in New York, accompanied him, so that he
might know the place afterwards. White was booked at once, and while
going along with the jailer was asked whether he wished to go to the
first or second-class, the jailer judging that he would not take the
third-class. The first-class was composed of those fortunate mortals who
had money enough to send out to the neighboring restaurants and order in
their meals. Of course Maroney was in the first-class, so White followed
suit. He gave the jailer the usual _douceur_ for introducing him to the
prison, and then had his cell pointed out. White sent Shanks, who had
accompanied him so far, to fetch his carpet-bag and some clothes. He
then retired to his cell to meditate over his painful situation.

He glanced around amongst the prisoners, and soon picked out his man.
Maroney did not seem to be doing any thing particular, but sat musing by
himself. In this manner, brooding over their misfortunes, White and
Maroney spent the evening until the hour of retirement. The next day
White kept by himself, pondering over what he should do. In the course
of the day his nephew, Shanks, who was a young man of about twenty, came
with the satchel, and made himself very useful to White by carrying
several messages for him. Some of the prisoners noticed this and asked
White if he would not let his nephew do little outside favors for them.
White said "Certainly, I shall be only too happy to assist you in any
way I can."

Shanks was soon such a favorite with the prisoners that he greatly
reduced the perquisites of the jailor. Maroney gradually became quite
familiar with White. He would bid him good morning when they were
released from their cells, and take an occasional turn in the hall with
him. They were shut in together, and it became necessary to get
acquainted. White wrote frequent letters to his lawyer, who was Bangs,
under another name, and received regular replies, Shanks being the
medium of communication. This was a great convenience, as lawyers are
not always able to visit their clients when they wish them to. Maroney
appeared to have few friends. Mrs. Maroney had gone, and he had no one
to pay him regular attention. A few friends would call occasionally, but
their visits seemed prompted rather by curiosity than by a desire to
assist him, they gradually grew fewer and farther between, and finally
ceased altogether. He received letters from the South, from Mrs.
Maroney, who was on her journey, and from Charlie May, Patterson, and
Porter, at Montgomery. These friends kept him well posted. The letters
sent by Porter were copies of those I sent him, and were on the general
topics of the day. Porter said he was sorry to have to address him in
Eldridge street jail, and wished he could be of some assistance to him.
He alluded with anger to the report which had been circulated of his,
(Maroney's) marriage. Of course all his friends at Patterson's knew he
had been married for years, and that the report was a dodge of the
Express Company to make him unpopular. Outside of his friends at
Patterson's, every one in Montgomery seemed to believe the slander, and
many said they always thought there was something wrong about Mrs.
Maroney, and they expected nothing better from her. Many, also, said
they had a poor opinion of him and believed he had committed the
robbery. Porter concluded by stating that McGibony, the detective,
seemed completely nonplussed, and had but little to say about the
matter. He, (Porter) had conversed with him, and McGibony seemed of the
opinion that it was a move of the Adams Express to place him in an
odious position with the inhabitants of Montgomery.

After the receipt of this letter, Maroney appeared to be exceedingly
down hearted. White noticed it, and so reported to Bangs. As Mrs.
Maroney had not yet arrived in Montgomery, she was of course entirely
unaware that the news of their marriage had been spread broadcast, and
her letters were quite cheerful.

White was occasionally drawn into a game of cards. Euchre was the game
generally played; he was well able to hold his hand, and seldom lost.
The stakes were generally for the cigars, or something in a liquid
shape, and the supplies were brought in by Shanks. Maroney would
sometimes take a hand, but it was a careless habit with him, and he did
not care how he played. As time passed away the prisoners became well
acquainted, and would talk over the various reasons for their
imprisonment. At certain times of the day they would be visited by their
lawyers. Maroney had no lawyer engaged, but keenly watched those that
came, in order to see which was the smartest, so that he might know whom
to employ should he require one's services. Maroney was a smart man, and
he gradually came to the conclusion that a lawyer named Joachimson would
be the right man for him. White observed that he began to nod to him,
and that they always exchanged the compliments of the day. This was as
far as he went at present, it being evidently his intention not to
employ counsel until Mrs. Maroney returned from the South. At least
these were his thoughts so far as White could fathom them.

Leaving Maroney for the present, we will glance at Jenkintown. Here
everything was quiet; in other words, quotations were low and no sales.
Madam Imbert had little to do. She walked in the pleasure grounds with
Miss Johnson, or called at Mrs. Cox's, with whom the Madam was now on
the best of terms. Mrs. Cox had a number of children and the Madam often
bought them little presents and exerted a kindly influence over them.
Whenever Miss Johnson and she met Josh. on the street they would notice
him, and the attention would make him feel quite proud. De Forest acted
the same as before, and was becoming rather sweet on Miss Johnson. Madam
Imbert was sad and melancholy, and repelled all his advances with quiet
dignity. We will leave them to enjoy their easy times, having to make
only two reports a week, while we follow Mrs. Maroney and Roch.




_CHAPTER XVIII._


Nothing worthy of record occurred on the journey and they arrived at
Montgomery in due time. Roch telegraphed to Porter from Augusta, Ga.,
that they were coming, and he, having been previously informed of the
fact, was, of course, at the station to meet them. He was now Maroney's
bosom friend, and as such paid much attention to Mrs. Maroney. He met
her at the depot with a carriage when she arrived, and conducted Flora
and her to the Exchange Hotel and gave them a room.

The difficulty with Mr. Floyd had been smoothed over and she soon felt
at home. But something strange seemed to have taken place in Montgomery.
Porter, of course, paid her great attention and gave her one of the best
rooms the house afforded; but all the ladies she met during the day
passed her very coolly. The gentlemen were all friendly, but not so
cordial as usual. She could not understand it.

She did not go out much the first day, but called up the porter, and,
going to the garret with him, pointed out the old trunk and had him take
it down to her room. The following day she called at Charlie May's.
Something unusual must have happened, as she left there in bitter
anguish. The house was near the hotel and Porter had seen her go in and
come out. She wore no veil and the traces of her grief were plainly
visible. She returned to the hotel and went to her room. Porter, in a
short time, stepped up, knocked at her door and enquired of Flora how
her ma was. Flora said her ma was not well, that she had a bad headache.
He was bound to get in, so he pushed past the child and saw Mrs. Maroney
lying on the bed crying. Being the clerk of the hotel, his coming in
would not be considered unusual.

He enquired if there was nothing he could do for her, and she said no.
He surmised what had happened and concluded he could find out all about
it at Patterson's. He went over to Patterson's and met Charlie May.
Charlie said that Mrs. Maroney had called on his wife, but had been
roughly handled--tongued would be the proper word. Mrs. May informed her
of what she had read and otherwise heard about her getting married at
this late date.

Mrs. Maroney denied the report and declared that they had been married
in Savannah long before; that they had afterwards lived in New Orleans,
Augusta, Ga., and finally had settled in Montgomery.

Mrs. May replied that it was useless for her to try and live the report
down; that the ladies of Montgomery had determined not to recognize her,
and that she had been tabooed from society. Mrs. May grew wrathful and
warned Mrs. Maroney to beware how she conducted herself toward Mr. May.

Mrs. Maroney rose proudly from her chair, and giving Mrs. May a look
that made her tremble, said:

"Mr. Maroney is as thoroughly a gentleman as Mr. May or any one in
Montgomery, and he is capable of protecting himself and me."

She then flounced out of the house and returned to the hotel.

She remained in her room all day, but on the following morning went to
the office of her husband's counsel, where she remained some time, and
then returned to the hotel.

Porter was summoned to her room, and on going up she asked him if
McGibony was around. Porter said he presumed he was at the Court House.
Mrs. Maroney then said:

"I would like to see him! My poor husband is in trouble and I need the
assistance of all his friends, not but that he will eventually prove
himself innocent and make the company pay him heavy damages for their
outrageous persecution! but he is, at present, in the hands of the
enemy. If he were only in the South, it would be very different. Here he
would have many kind friends to assist him; there he has not one who
will turn a finger to help him. Mr. Maroney and I are aware of the
scandal that has been spread about us, but we will soon put our timid
friends to the blush. They think it will be hard for Maroney to fight a
wealthy corporation like the Adams Express, and, instead of helping him,
seem inclined to join the stronger party. With them 'might makes right,'
and when Maroney gains the day, how they will come crawling back to
congratulate him and say, 'We always felt that you were innocent.' O Mr.
Porter, it is a shame. Why is Maroney held a prisoner in the North, when
he should be tried before a jury of his fellow Southerners? What will
not money do in this country? But I will show the Adams Express that
they are not dealing with a weak, timid woman. I have just been to see
my husband's counsel and have made arrangements to get a requisition
from the Governor of Alabama on the Governor of New York to have my
husband brought here. I want McGibony to go North and bring him down. Of
course he would not attempt to escape, but it will be necessary to keep
up the form of having him in the charge of an officer, and I think
McGibony the proper man to send. If McGibony will not go I shall have to
ask you, Mr. Porter, to execute the commission."

Porter, not having any orders how to act, said: "I will think the matter
over, and have no doubt but that McGibony will be well pleased to go.
There is only one difficulty, and that is, he may not have the necessary
cash."

"That need not deter him," she replied, eagerly. "I have plenty of
money, and will gladly pay him all he asks."

"I will find him and bring him to your room," said Porter, as he walked
away.

He went down stairs and immediately telegraphed to Bangs, in cipher,
informing him of all he had learned, and asking for instructions in
regard to acting as Mrs. Maroney's agent in bringing Maroney to
Montgomery.

Bangs held a consultation with the General Superintendent. The reasons
for Mrs. Maroney's trip South were now plain, and it was necessary for
the company's counsel at Montgomery to give the matter immediate
attention. The General Superintendent telegraphed to Watts, Judd &
Jackson of Mrs. Maroney's intended coup d'etat, and ordered them to take
the necessary steps to checkmate her, while Bangs ordered Porter to
avoid acting as Mrs. Maroney's agent.

In the meantime Porter found McGibony, and conducted him to Mrs.
Maroney's room. He learned that Charlie May and Patterson had come up
during his absence. Mrs. Maroney made her desire known to McGibony, and
he at once accepted the commission. She thanked him, and remarked that
she hoped to have all in readiness in a few days.

Charlie May was very attentive to her, and she seemed to thoroughly
appreciate him, although his wife had treated her so _cavalierly_ the
day before.

After dismissing the rest of the party she had a long, private
conversation with Patterson. In an hour Patterson came down and went to
a livery stable where "Yankee Mary" was known to be kept, and soon after
Mrs. Maroney had an interview with the proprietor of the livery-stable.
Porter had become one of the clique, and found that Maroney had a large
interest in the stable. "Yankee Mary" was Maroney's own property, and
his business with the livery-stables in Chattanooga and Nashville was to
examine and buy horses for his stables in Montgomery. In a couple of
days Maroney's interest in the stable was disposed of to Patterson, and
the money paid over to Mrs. Maroney. "Yankee Mary" was not sold, and
still remained the property of Maroney.

All these transactions Porter duly reported to Bangs, and Bangs to the
Vice-President. They decided to secure "Yankee Mary" for the company,
and Watts, Judd & Jackson were instructed to attach her. This they did,
and she changed hands, being afterwards cared for in the stables of the
Express Company.

Flora was much neglected, as Mrs. Maroney devoted all her time to
business. She was continually out in the company of Charlie May,
Patterson, the livery-stable keeper, Porter, or McGibony.

At last it was announced by her counsel that the "die was cast," and the
requisition refused; so McGibony was spared the trouble of going North.
The Governor of Alabama came to the conclusion that he could not ask the
Governor of New York to deliver up a man who was a prisoner of the
United States government, charged with feloniously holding money, until
judgment was rendered against him. Mrs. Maroney found she could do
nothing in Montgomery, so she packed up and, with Flora, started for
Atlanta. Porter had Roch at the depot, and as soon as she started, she
was again under the care of the Dutchman. At Atlanta she put up at the
Atlanta House, while Roch took quarters in a low boarding-house. He
watched closely, but was careful not to be seen, or to excite suspicion.
Mrs. Maroney and Flora remained in the hotel, not coming down, for
twenty-four hours. She was, no doubt arranging something, but what, was
a mystery.

What she did will be eventually disclosed. The first notice Roch had of
her movements, was when she came out of the hotel with Flora, and was
driven to the depot. He had just time to get to his boarding-house, pay
his bill, seize his satchel, and get upon the train as it moved off.
Mrs. Maroney acted much as her husband did when he left Chattanooga so
suddenly. "They are as alike as two peas," thought Roch; "both are
secret in all their movements, and make no confidants."

But _the eye of the detective never sleeps_, and Maroney and his wife
were always outwitted. While they greatly exulted over their shrewdness,
the detective, whom they thought they had bewildered, was quietly gazing
at them from the rear window of the "<DW65> car."

Roch found that Mrs. Maroney had bought a ticket to Augusta, Ga.; but
before reaching that city, she suddenly left the train at Union Point.
There was a train in waiting, which she immediately took, and went to
Athens. Roch knew nothing about the country they were passing through,
and was following blindly wherever she led. They had not gone far on
their new route when Athens was announced. Roch saw Mrs. Maroney getting
Flora and herself in readiness to leave the train. When the cars stopped
at the station Flora and she got out, stepped into an omnibus, and were
taken to the Lanier House. Roch followed, and when they entered the
hotel, went to a restaurant and got some refreshments.

Athens was a thriving inland town. After Roch had finished his meal he
strolled around, and finally arrived in front of the Lanier House.
Puffing away at his pipe, he took a seat on the verandah. Here he mused
for some time, apparently half asleep, when he was aroused by the
clattering of hoofs and the rumbling of wheels, and looking up the
street he saw a stage approaching. It drew up in front of the hotel, and
a knot of people gathered around it. While the horses were being
changed, the driver rushed into the bar-room to take a drink. Roch
listlessly looked at the hurry and bustle, but suddenly sprang to his
feet, and almost dropped his inseparable companion--his pipe--from his
mouth, for whom should he see escorted from the hotel, and assisted into
the stage, by the landlord, with many a bow and flourish, but Mrs.
Maroney and Flora? Her baggage was not brought down, so that he was
certain she would return. He had no time to think over the best plan to
pursue, but determined to accompany her at all hazards.

The driver came out, mounted his seat and Roch got up beside him. It
must be admitted that he was badly off for an excuse to account for his
movements, as he knew nothing of the country, and did not know where the
stage was going. The driver was a long, lank Southerner, burned as brown
as a berry by the sun. He always had a huge "chaw" of tobacco stowed
away in the side of his left cheek, and, as he drove along, would
deposit its juice with unerring aim on any object that attracted his
attention. He was very talkative, and at once entered into conversation
with Roch. "Wal stranger, whar yar bound?" was his first salutation.

Roch looked at him in a bewildered way, and then said, "Nichts
verstehe!"

[Illustration: "_Wal stranger, whar yar bound," was his first
salutation. Roch looked at him in a bewildered way, and then said,
"Nichts verstehe!_"--Page 158.]

"Whar are yar gwine? Are yar a through passenger, or whar are yar
gwine?"

"Vel, I vish to see de country. I vil go mit you till I see von ceety
vot I likes, und den I vil get out mit it!"

"Oh!" said the driver, in a patronizing tone, "yar parspectin', are
yar?" And so they kept up a conversation, from which Roch gleaned that
the stage was bound for Anderson's Court House, S. C. Whenever the
driver would ask a question he did not like to answer, he would say,
"nichts verstehe," and so tided over all his difficulties. The
passengers, one lady and three gentlemen besides Mrs. Maroney and Flora,
amused themselves in various ways as they drove along. The gentlemen
smoked and conversed, and the other lady seemed very agreeable; but Mrs.
Maroney did not say a word to any one but Flora. Roch as he occasionally
glanced over his shoulder at her, observed that she seemed to be
suffering from much care and anxiety.

Eight miles out from Athens the driver stopped to change his horses, and
Roch took advantage of this circumstance to get a little familiar with
him. He found this an easy matter. A few drinks and some cigars to smoke
on the road--which he treated him to--put him in such a good humor that
he declared, as they drove off, that it was a pity his German friend was
not a white man. Roch wondered if all the <DW64>s spoke German, but said
nothing.

They drove along through a rich agricultural country until they arrived
at Danielsville, about sixteen miles from Athens. Here Mrs. Maroney
touched the driver and asked him if he knew where Mrs. Maroney lived.
Oh! thought Roch, now I see her object in coming here. The driver knew
the place well, and drove up to a handsome mansion, evidently the
dwelling of a wealthy planter.

Mrs. Maroney and Flora left the coach and walked up through a
beautifully laid out garden to the house, a two story frame, with wide
verandahs all around it, and buried in a mass of foliage. She was met at
the door by a lady, who kissed both her and Flora, and, relieving her of
the satchel, conducted them into the house.

Roch in his broken way told the driver that he liked the appearance of
the town so much that he thought he would stop over. They drove up to
the tavern and Roch asked the driver in to have a drink with him. As
they went into the bar-room they met the clerk, and Roch politely asked
him to join them. He informed the driver that he might go back with him
in a day or two. The driver did not pay much attention to what he said,
as all he really cared for was the drink. After the stage left, Roch
entered into conversation with the clerk, and, under pretense of
settling in the town, made enquiries about the owners of several places
he passed on the road. Finally he asked who the handsome residence on
the hill belonged to. "That is Mr. Maroney's place. He is one of the
'solid' men of the town; worth a great deal of money; has some <DW65>s,
and is held in high esteem by the community, as he is a perfect
gentleman."

In the evening he dropped into a saloon, where he formed the
acquaintance of several old saloon-loafers, who were perfectly familiar
with everybody's business but their own, and from them gathered much
useful information of the surrounding country, and had the clerk's
opinion of Mr. Maroney fully endorsed.

Roch was up early in the morning and strolling around. He met an old
<DW64> who informed him that the stage for Athens would be along in three
hours. He sauntered carelessly to Mr. Maroney's, and watched the house
from a safe position, but, as the blinds were closed, could see no signs
of preparation within. He therefore returned to the tavern, with the
determination of keeping a watch on the stage. He had waited about an
hour, when a gentleman walked up the steps to the stage office, which
was in the tavern. He heard the clerk say, "Good morning, Mr. Maroney,"
which immediately put him on the alert.

"Good morning," responded Mr. Maroney. "I want to secure three seats in
the stage for Athens; want them this morning." Securing his tickets, he
went home, leaving Roch once more at his ease, as he now knew exactly
what move to make. When the stage drove up, he called in the driver,
stood treat, and again took a seat beside him. The clerk told the driver
to call at Mr. Maroney's for some passengers, and they started off. Mr.
Maroney, Mrs. Maroney and Flora were at the gate when they drove up, and
all three entered the stage and went to Athens. At Athens they stopped a
short time at the Lanier House; sent their baggage down to the depot,
and took the train on the Washington Branch Railroad, which connects
with the main line at Union Point. Mr. Maroney bid them good-bye, and
returned to the Lanier House. The train consisted of only one car, and
Roch had to take a seat in the same car with Mrs. Maroney, but he went
in behind her, and took a seat in the rear of the car, so that he
remained unnoticed.

Mrs. Maroney was very restless, and after they took the through train at
Union Point, would carefully scan the features of all the well-dressed
men who entered the car. She seemed to suspect every one around her, and
acted in a most peculiar manner. In a short time they reached Augusta,
Ga., where Mrs. Maroney and Flora left the train and put up at the
principal hotel. It was late when they arrived, so that they immediately
took supper and retired. Roch found a room in a restaurant, and after
his supper strolled through the hotel, but discovered nothing, as Mrs.
Maroney and Flora remained quiet in their room.

The following afternoon Mrs. Maroney and Flora left the hotel,
accompanied by a gentleman, and once more started for the North. The
gentleman accompanied them to Wilmington, N. C. During the whole of the
journey, Mrs. Maroney acted, metaphorically, as if sitting on thorns.
She did not seem at all pleased at the attention paid her by the
gentleman. When he would ask her a question she would glance at him with
a startled frightened look, and answer him very abruptly. She seemed
much relieved when he bade them good-bye. Roch was sitting in the rear
of the second-class car and could keep a strict watch on her movements.
Not a person got on or off the train whom she did not carefully observe.
Two or three times during the night she fell into a restless sleep, but
always started up with a wild look of agony in her face. Day or night
she seemed to have no peace, and by the time they reached Philadelphia
she had become so haggard and worn as to appear fully ten years older
than when she started.

Roch telegraphed to Bangs from Baltimore, informing him of the time he
would arrive in Philadelphia, and Green and Rivers were at the station
to relieve him--Green to "shadow" Mrs. Maroney and Rivers to see what
disposition would be made of her baggage, and if he found it transferred
to Jenkintown to follow it and be on hand there when Mrs. Maroney
arrived. Roch went to the office and reported to Bangs. He said that he
had never seen so strange a woman; she had acted on the whole journey
as if troubled with a guilty conscience. He felt confident she had
something concealed, but could take no steps in the matter until he was
absolutely certain, beyond a doubt, that his suspicions were correct. My
orders were clear on this point--never make a decisive move unless you
are positive you are right. If you are watching a person, and _know_ he
has something concealed, arrest him and search his person; otherwise, no
matter how strong your suspicions, do not act upon them, as a single
misstep of this sort may lose the case, and is certain to put the
parties on their guard, and in a few minutes to overthrow the labor of
months.




_CHAPTER XIX._


When Mrs. Maroney left the cars at the corner of Prime and Broad
streets, she accidentally ran across De Forest, who was in the city on
some business of his own.

"Oh! I am so glad to meet you," exclaimed Mrs. Maroney.

"And I am delighted to hear you say so," replied De Forest.

The poor fellow had missed her sadly. She had parted from him in anger,
and he felt cut to the quick by her cold treatment. He had at first
determined to blot her memory from his heart, and for this purpose
turned his attention to Miss Johnson, and tried to get up the same
tender feeling for her with which Mrs. Maroney had inspired him, but he
found it impossible. He missed Mrs. Maroney's black flashing eye, one
moment filled with tenderness, the next sparkling with laughter. Then
Mrs. Maroney had a freedom of manners that placed him at once at his
ease, while Miss Johnson was rather prudish, quite sarcastic, and
somehow he felt that he always made a fool of himself in her presence.
Besides, Miss Johnson was marriageable, and much as De Forest loved the
sex, he loved his freedom more. His morals were on a par with those of
Sheridan's son, who wittily asked his father, just after he had been
lecturing him, and advising him to take a wife, "But, father, whose
wife shall I take?" Day after day passed wearily to him; Jenkintown
without Mrs. Maroney was a dreary waste. He felt that "Absence makes the
heart grow fonder," so when Mrs. Maroney greeted him so heartily he was
overjoyed.

"Have you been far South?" he asked.

"Yes, indeed? Flora and I have not had our clothes off for five days,
and we are completely exhausted; what a fright I must look!"

"You look perfectly charming! at least to me you do," fervently answered
De Forest. "Let me have your baggage transferred to the North
Pennsylvania Railroad. In that way you can send it to Jenkintown without
any trouble. You and Flora honor me with your company to Mitchell's,
where we will have some refreshments, and then I will drive you home in
my buggy."

After a little persuasion Mrs. Maroney consented to the arrangement, and
De Forest, once more himself, got their baggage checked to Jenkintown,
and calling a hackman, as he had left his own team in the stable, they
were driven to Mitchell's. Green followed them up and watched them from
the steps of Independence Hall, while Rivers mounted the baggage-wagon
and was driven to the North Pennsylvania station, and in less than an
hour was in Jenkintown. De Forest ordered a substantial meal at
Mitchell's, and when they had finished it, ordered his team and drove
gaily out of the city, closely wedged in between Mrs. Maroney and Flora.

When he went to get his team he hurriedly reported to the Vice-President
that he had Mrs. Maroney at Mitchell's, and that her former coolness had
vanished. As they drove up to Cox's, Mrs. Maroney was much pleased to
meet Madam Imbert and Miss Johnson. The ladies bowed, and Mrs. Maroney
requested the Madam to stop a moment, as she had something to tell her.
Madam Imbert told Miss Johnson to walk on home, while she went to Cox's,
and was warmly embraced by Mrs. Maroney. How De Forest envied her! De
Forest drove up to the tavern with his team, and the rest of the party
went into the house, where they were cordially welcomed by Mrs. Cox.

Mrs. Maroney said she was tired almost to death, but wanted a few
moments' conversation with the Madam before she changed her clothing.
"Madam Imbert," she said, "you don't know how happy I am to meet you. I
have just come from the South, where all my husband's friends are. He is
now in deep trouble, and is held a prisoner in New York, at the
instigation of the Adams Express Company, who charge him with having
robbed them of some fifty thousand dollars. They charge him with
committing this robbery in Montgomery, but hold him in New York. I went
South for the purpose of getting a requisition for his immediate return
to Montgomery. When I got there I was much surprised to find that nearly
all his influential friends had taken the part of the company, and I now
return almost crazed, without being able to get the necessary papers,
and my poor husband must languish in jail, I don't know how long."

"Mrs. Maroney, I can sympathize with you thoroughly. When my husband was
prosperous we had hosts of friends--friends whom I thought would always
be true to us; but the moment he got into trouble they were gone, and
the only friend I now have is the abundance of money he left me."

"In this respect I cannot complain," replied Mrs. Maroney, "as my
husband gave me money enough to support me a lifetime; but it is so hard
to be separated from him! I am fortunate in having found a friend like
you, Madam Imbert, and I trust we may spend many hours together. I must
write a letter to my husband to let him know I am again in the North."

"I will take it down to the postoffice for you," said Madam Imbert.

"Oh, no, I thank you, I will not put you to the trouble; Josh. is going
down to Stemples's, and he will post it for me."

Madam Imbert could not well stay longer as Mrs. Maroney seemed very
tired. So she bade her good-bye, Mrs. Maroney promising to call on her
the next day.

She was not satisfied with what she had accomplished, and feared that
Mrs. Maroney had some secret arrangement under way. As she walked
musingly along, she met Rivers in a place where no one appeared in
sight.

"Rivers, I wish you would keep a sharp lookout on Cox's to-night. I
think they are up to something, but what, I can't find out. Will you?"

"Certainly," replied Rivers; "I am pretty well tired out, but I can
stand it for a week, if necessary."

"There is another thing which ought to be attended to," said Madam
Imbert. "Mrs. Maroney is writing a letter to her husband; I think it is
an important one. Don't you think you could manage to get possession of
it? She is going to send it to Stemples's by Josh., so you might get him
drunk and then gain possession of it."

"Leave that to me. I think I can work it all right," said Rivers, as
they separated, no one being aware of their interview.

Rivers went to Stemples's, and calling up every one in the bar-room,
asked them to have a drink. Barclay and Horton were there, and as they
swallowed their liquor, looked at each other and winked. Horton
whispered: "Rivers is a little 'sprung' to-day."

"D----d tight, in my opinion," replied Barclay.

In a few moments Josh. came in, and in a very important tone asked for
Stemples.

"Stemple sout! Hellow, Josh., that you?" said Rivers, slapping him on
the shoulder. "I've taken a leetle too much bitters to-day, but I'm
bound to have another horn before I go home. Come and have something?"

"Where is Stemples?" reiterated Cox.

"Oh, he's up stairs. Come and have a drink?"

Josh. willingly assented, and with Barclay and Horton they went up to
the bar. Rivers seized the whisky-bottle as the barkeeper handed it
down, and filled his glass to the brim. Josh., Horton, and Barclay took
moderate quantities of the liquor. "Drink hearty, boys," said Rivers, "I
am going to have a good horn to go to bed on."

Josh. looked closely at him, and then turned and winked knowingly to
Barclay and Horton. The moment he turned, Rivers changed glasses with
him, emptied out nearly all the liquor that Cox had put into his glass,
and filled it with water.

"Here, boys, drink hearty! Ain't you going to drink up?"

Thus admonished, all four raised their glasses and drained them at a
draft. Josh. swallowed down the brimming glass of pure whisky without a
wink, and it must be admitted that, to his credit as a toper, he never
noticed the difference. They had two or three drinks on about the same
basis before Stemples came down.

Josh. was standing with the letter in his hand ready to give it to him
when he came in. When Stemples came in Rivers snatched the letter from
Josh.'s hand and said:

"Here, Stemples, is a letter for you!" and handed it to him.

Cox was in a condition not to mind trifles, and scarcely knew whether he
did or did not give the letter to Stemples. So long as he had it, that
was all he wanted.

Rivers, quick as a flash, had read the direction on the letter: "Nathan
Maroney, Eldridge Street Jail, New York."

Stemples took the letter and placed it carelessly in a pigeon-hole,
behind a small, railed-off place just at the end of the bar. Josh.
started home with Barclay and Horton. Rivers accompanied them a short
distance and then returned to Stemples's. He looked through the windows
and saw that the bar-room was completely deserted. He peered around and
found that both Stemples and the barkeeper were in the stable harnessing
up the horses, bent on going to a ball at a neighboring town. He glanced
around in all directions until he was sure there was no fear of
detection, and then stealthily entered the bar-room. He noiselessly
crossed the floor, went behind the railing, pulled the much desired
letter from the pigeon-hole and, with his treasure, returned safely to
the street without detection.

He returned to his boarding-house, procured a lamp and went directly to
his room. He then dexterously opened the letter in such a manner that no
trace was left to show that it had been tampered with, and tremblingly
proceeded to read it, filled with the hope that the mystery would be
solved by its contents. He read as follows:


     "MY DEAR HUSBAND:--I know it will pain you to learn that a notice
     of our marriage has been published in Montgomery. It has caused a
     great many of our old friends to turn away from us, among others
     Mrs. May, who was the first one to inform me, and who grossly
     insulted me and fairly ordered me out of her house. Who could have
     spread the news? I think the only true friend you now have in
     Montgomery is Mr. Porter. Patterson swindled me in the bargain for
     the livery stable, and Charlie May is, you know, as variable as the
     weather in the North; but Mr. Porter did me many kind turns without
     seeking to make anything out of me. Flora and I arrived in
     Jenkintown this afternoon thoroughly tired out. I could not get the
     requisition. I will write fully to-morrow or the next day.

     "I have all safe in the trunk. Left ------ at hotel in Athens. I
     afterward found it convenient to alter my bustle and put paper into
     it and strips of old rags. It set well, but I was tired when I got
     home with it.

                         "Your loving wife."


Rivers scribbled off a copy of the letter and then sealed it up again.
He walked back to Stemples's and found a party in the wagon waiting for
the barkeeper to close up and go to the ball with them. Rivers, still
pretending to be drunk, staggered up to the door of the bar-room, which
was just about to be closed, and walked in. There was no one present but
the barkeeper; the people in the wagon were yelling to him to hurry up.

"Give me a drink," said Rivers.

"You have had enough for one night, it seems to me," remarked the
barkeeper.

"No," said Rivers, "just give me one drink and I'll go!"

As the barkeeper turned to take down the bottle, Rivers flipped the
letter, which he had in his hand, over towards the pigeon-hole; it just
missed its mark and fell on the floor.

"What's that?" exclaimed the barkeeper, turning hastily around, "a rat?"

"No, a mouse, I guess!" said Rivers.

"I declare, if that mouse didn't knock a letter out of the pigeon-hole!"
remarked the barkeeper as he picked it up and put it in its place.
"Hurry up, Rivers, I want to go!"

Rivers swallowed his drink and went off well pleased with his success.

His work was not done yet, as Madam Imbert had requested him to keep a
watch on Cox's house. He walked along in the direction of Cox's, and
felt almost oppressed by the perfect stillness of the night. It was not
broken even by the barking of watch-dogs. The whole place seemed
wrapped in slumber. When he reached the house, he walked carefully
around for about an hour, when a light in the second story--the only one
he had seen--was extinguished. He then crawled up close to the house,
where he could hear every movement within; but all he heard was the
shrill voice of Mrs. Cox, occasionally relieved by snorts from Cox, and
he concluded that all that was transpiring at Cox's was a severe curtain
lecture, brought about through his instrumentality. At two A. M. he
returned to his boarding-house, wrote out his report for Bangs,
enclosing the copy of Mrs. Maroney's letter, and retired after an
exciting day's work.




_CHAPTER XX._


On the following day Mrs. Maroney called on Madam Imbert, and together
they strolled through the pleasure grounds. Each narrated her sorrows,
and each wanted the support and friendship of the other.

Madam Imbert's story we will let pass. Mrs. Maroney dwelt on her
husband's hardships, and her conversation was largely a repetition of
what she had said the day before. She spoke of her husband as a
persecuted man, and said: "Wait till his trial is over and he is
vindicated! Then the Adams Express will pay for this. The Vice-President
has made the affair almost a personal one, but when Nat. is liberated
the Vice-President will get his deserts. When he falls, mortally wounded
with a ball from my husband's pistol, he will discover that Nathan
Maroney is not to be trifled with. In the South we have a few friends
left, and Mr. McGibony, a detective, is one of them. I think I can trust
him. He was to have come North to escort my husband to Montgomery, if
the Governor had granted the requisition; but he would not, and Maroney
will hear of my failure to-day, as I wrote to him last evening. De
Forest is a useful friend, and I think him also a very handsome man. I
left Montgomery, feeling very unhappy, and was obliged to go to Athens
and Danielsville. I was so exhausted that I had to stop a day at Augusta
to rest. I had some valuables concealed on my person, and they were so
heavy as to greatly tire me. At Augusta I was forced to alter my
arrangements for carrying them, and arrived in Philadelphia completely
worn out. I can assure you it was with feelings of the greatest pleasure
that I met De Forest. He very kindly took charge of my baggage, and
brought Flora and me out in his buggy. I am so glad to be here once
more."

As both ladies were tired, they walked over to some benches placed in a
summer house, and took seats. Miss Johnson and Flora had been with them,
but strolled off.

Mrs. Maroney kept up the conversation, on unimportant topics, for some
time, and then suddenly turned to Madam Imbert and said: "You must have
had to conceal property at times! Where did you hide it?"

Madam Imbert felt that now the trying moment for her had arrived. She
knew that Mrs. Maroney had the stolen money in her possession, and that
if she could only prevail on her to again conceal the money on her
person, she could seize and search her; but Mrs. Maroney had said she
could not carry it around, and so was obliged to change its hiding
place. If she endeavored to prevail on her to secrete it on her person,
she might suspect her motives, and hide it where it would be hard to
find, so she answered in an indifferent tone; "Oh, yes, I have often
hidden valuables! Sometimes I have placed them in the cellar, and at
other times, waiting until all was quiet, I have stolen out into the
garden, at a late hour of the night, and secreted them."

Mrs. Maroney looked her square in the eyes, but she did not alter a
muscle under the scrutiny. "Your advice is good," she said, in a musing
tone.

Madam Imbert would gladly have offered to assist her, but did not, at
the time, feel safe in offering her services. She determined to act as
quickly as possible, and to try and discover where she would secrete the
money, as, from her actions, it was evident it was not yet hidden.

As they sat talking Madam Imbert pretended to be taken with a sudden
pain in the neighborhood of her heart. She was so sick that Mrs. Maroney
had to assist her to Stemples's. She explained to Mrs. Maroney that she
was subject to heart disease, and was frequently taken in a like manner.
When they got to the tavern she requested Mrs. Maroney to send Miss
Johnson to her, which she did, and then walked slowly homeward.

In about three-quarters of an hour Miss Johnson called at Cox's, and
reported that the Madam was much better, and was sleeping soundly. She
had become lonely, and had started out to get Flora and take a walk. As
soon as she entered the sitting room at Cox's, on her return, she found
no one there but the children. In a moment Mrs. Cox came up stairs and
joined her. She looked quite flurried, and seemed not to be particularly
pleased at Miss Johnson's presence.

Miss Johnson had just made known her desire for Flora's company, when
Rivers (whom Madam Imbert had seen and instructed to find out what Josh.
was doing,) came in, in his usual rollicking way, and asked Mrs. Cox
where Josh. was.

"He is out in the garden at work," said Mrs. Cox.

At almost the same moment Josh. yelled up from the cellar: "That you,
Rivers? I'll join you at Stemples's, by-and-by."

It was immediately plain to Miss Johnson and Rivers that something was
going on in the cellar which they did not want outsiders to know about.
Miss Johnson remained with the children about half an hour, when Josh.
and Mrs. Maroney came up from the cellar, perspiring freely, and looking
as though they had been hard at work. Josh. started out to keep his
appointment, evidently longing for a drink, and Miss Johnson, after a
short conversation with Mrs. Maroney, went out with Flora. She did not
remain long away, soon bringing Flora home, and then proceeding to the
hotel to report to Madam Imbert. Rivers had already reported, and Madam
Imbert was confident they were secreting the money in the cellar, so she
determined to report to Bangs at once.

In the afternoon she had so far recovered as to be able to go to
Philadelphia to consult her physician. At least she so informed Mrs.
Maroney. Before going she walked over to see if Mrs. Maroney would not
accompany her, but found her tired and weary, and in no humor for a
ride. She therefore returned to Stemples's, hired his team and drove
into the city alone. She reported to Bangs, and got back in time for
supper. In the evening she called on Mrs. Maroney and had with her a
long conversation.

What, with Rivers and De Forest, and Madam Imbert and Miss Johnson, very
little happened at Cox's that was not seen and reported to Bangs.

Mrs. Maroney called the property she wished to conceal her own, but we
concluded that it was the stolen money. For four days all went quietly
in Jenkintown; Mrs. Maroney made no allusions to her property, and
passed the greater portion of the day either with Madam Imbert or with
De Forest.

On the fifth day she received a letter from her husband requesting her
to come to New York, and to bring a good Philadelphia lawyer with her.
She made known to Madam Imbert, and De Forest, the contents of the
letter. De Forest found that he wanted to go to the city in the morning,
and made arrangements to accompany her with his buggy. At her earnest
request Madam Imbert accompanied them. They drove to Mitchell's, had
some refreshments, and then separated.

Green, of course, was at Mitchell's when they arrived, prepared to
follow Mrs. Maroney. Madam Imbert went to the Merchants's Hotel and
reported to Bangs, while De Forest reported to the Vice-President. Here
were two persons acting in the same cause, and yet De Forest was
profoundly ignorant of Madam Imbert's true character.

Mrs. Maroney proceeded to a lawyer's office in Walnut street. Green saw
the name on the door, and knew that it was the office of a prominent
advocate. I will not mention his name, as it is immaterial. She remained
in the office for over an hour, and then returned to Mitchell's, where
the party had agreed to rendezvous. After dinner they drove back to
Jenkintown.

The following morning the rain poured in torrents, but Mrs. Maroney took
the early train and went to the city, "shadowed" by Rivers. At
Philadelphia he turned her over to the watchful care of Green. In Camden
she was joined by her lawyer, and on arriving in New York went directly
with him to the Eldridge street jail.

All had gone well with White and Maroney. They had grown a little more
friendly, though White was very unsocial, and seemed to prefer to keep
by himself. Maroney had got Shanks to do several favors for him, and was
very thankful for his kindness. Shanks was busily employed in carrying
letters to White's lawyers, and bringing answers. The reader has already
been informed with regard to the character of those communications.

White and Maroney were engaged in a social game of euchre when Mrs.
Maroney and her lawyer arrived. Maroney did not have a very great regard
for his wife, but any one, at such a time, would be welcome. He greeted
her warmly, shook hands with the lawyer, and requested him to be seated
while he held a private conversation with his wife. He drew her to one
side, and they had a long, quiet conversation. In about an hour he
called his lawyer over, and they consulted together for over two hours.

White was miserably situated. He could see all that went on, even to the
movement of their lips as they conversed, but could not hear a word.

As soon as the interview was over Mrs. Maroney left the jail--the lawyer
remaining behind--went to Jersey City, and took the train to
Philadelphia.

Green telegraphed Bangs that she was returning, and he had Rivers at
Camden to meet the train and relieve Green.

She arrived in Philadelphia too late for the Jenkintown train, but
hired a buggy at a livery stable, and had a boy drive her out and bring
the horse back.

Rivers was looking around for a conveyance, when a gardener whom he
knew, and who lived a few miles beyond Jenkintown, drove along. "Going
out to Jenkintown?" he asked.

"Yes," replied the gardener.

"Give me a ride?"

"Of course; jump in." And he was soon being rattled over the pavement in
the springless lumber-wagon. He tried to keep up a conversation, but the
words were all jostled out of his mouth.

The weather had cleared up, and he had a delightful drive out to
Jenkintown. He stopped the gardener twice on the road and treated him to
whisky and cigars, and they arrived shortly after Mrs. Maroney. "There
must be something up," thought he, "or she would not be in such a hurry
to get home; what can it be?"

In Eldridge street jail, one day was nearly a repetition of another.
White acted always the same, and said very little to any one except to
Shanks, whom he always drew to one side when he wished to converse with
him.

Maroney conversed with White a good deal, and was disappointed on
finding that he could not play chess. White would occasionally join in a
game of cards, but kept separate from the rest of the prisoners as much
as possible. He had paid his footing, five dollars, the fee required to
gain admission to "_the order_" as the prisoners call it. He found the
"order" to be narrowed down to drinkables and smokables for all the
prisoners initiated. Maroney had joined before, and said to White, "I
don't think much of it. These people care for nothing but drinking and
eating, while I have something else to think about."

By degrees Maroney conversed more and more with White; sometimes he
would forget and talk loudly. White would look up and say, "Hush! walls
have ears sometimes, don't talk so loud." At other times he would say,
"Maroney, I am not a talking man; I keep my own counsel, and have
discovered that the worst thing a man can do is to be noisy." Maroney
would try and mollify him by saying, "Oh, pshaw! I didn't say any thing
in particular."

"You can't tell who the spies are here," White would reply, "do you see
those prisoners? well, how do you know but that some of them are spies?
I would not trust one of them. I have a big fight under way myself; I
know the men who are opposing me will take every advantage, and I
propose to keep quiet and wait."

Maroney would remark, "But no one heard?"

"Hush," White would whisper, "how many times must I tell you that walls
may have ears?"

In time he had Maroney afraid almost of his own shadow.

When White wanted to tell Shanks any thing, he would take him by the arm
and draw him to one side; his lips would be seen to move, but not a word
could be heard.

One morning Maroney said, "White, I would like to have a boy like yours
to attend to my business; he is a good boy, never talks loud, and I
could make him useful in many ways."

"Yes," replied White, dryly, "Shanks is a good boy, and minds what I
say. Suppose they should bring him on the stand to prove I said a
certain thing, Shanks would be a bad witness, because he never hears any
thing I don't want him to."

"I see he is shrewd, and I like him for that," said Maroney.

The days passed slowly away, White always attending to his own business,
which seemed very important. One day Maroney said to White, "I'm tired,
let's take a turn in the hall?" They made several trips, conversing on
general topics, when Maroney lowered his voice and said:

"White, couldn't you and I get out of this jail?"

"I have not thought of it, have you?"

"Yes," answered Maroney, eagerly; "all we need is two keys. If we were
to get an impression of the lock Shanks could have them made, couldn't
he?"

"Yes," replied White, "you can get almost any thing made in New York if
you have the money with which to pay for it. But if we made the attempt
and failed, what would be the consequences? We should be put down and
not allowed out of our cells, and I should be debarred from seeing
Shanks; so suppose we think it over, and watch the habits of the
jailors."

Every day Maroney broached the subject, but White always had some
objections to offer, and Maroney finally abandoned the project in
disgust. There is no doubt but that Eldridge street jail at the time
could have been easily opened.

Little by little Maroney sought to place more confidence in White, but
found his advances always repelled. White would say, "Maroney, let every
man keep his own secrets, I have all I can do to attend to my own
affairs. My lawyer has been to see me and my prospects, as he presents
them, are not very flattering. Shanks says they are likely to get the
better of me if I am not careful. I feel so irritable that I can
scarcely bear with any one." Maroney was more than ever desirous of
talking with him, but White said: "I don't want to talk; let every man
paddle his own canoe. If I were out of trouble, it would be a different
thing, but my lawyer at present gives me a black lookout."

Shanks came in and White drew him to one side. They had a long talk and
then White paced restlessly up and down the hall.

"What's the matter, White? have you bad news?" enquired Maroney.

"Yes, I am deeply in the mire, but let me alone and I'll wriggle myself
out."




_CHAPTER XXI._


I now determined to strike a blow at Maroney. Some idea of its power may
be gained by imagining how a prisoner would feel upon receiving the news
that, while he is languishing in prison, his faithless wife is receiving
the unlawful attentions of a young gallant, and that everything
indicates that they are about to leave for parts unknown, intending to
take all his money and leave him in the lurch. This was exactly the rod
I had in pickle for Maroney. I applied it through the following letter:


     "Nathan Maroney, Eldridge Street Jail, New York:

     "Ha! ha! ha! * * * * Your wife and the fellow with the long
     mustache and whiskers are having a glorious time, driving around in
     his buggy.

     "You have heard of Sanford? He loves you well. He is the one who
     moves the automaton with the whiskers and long mustache, and gives
     _your wife_ a _lover_ in Jenkintown.

     "You should _feel happy_, and so do I. The garden at night; honeyed
     words; the parting kiss! She loves him well! I _know you are
     happy_!

     "Good-bye! * * * *                                       REVENGE!"


Having written the document, I had it mailed from Jenkintown, through
the assistance of friend Rivers.

At Jenkintown all was going smoothly. De Forest was more loving than
ever, and Madam Imbert found it almost impossible to have a private
conversation with Mrs. Maroney, as she seemed always with him. When De
Forest came to Philadelphia I had it suggested to him that it would be
advisable to get Mrs. Maroney to walk or drive out with him in the
evening. He immediately acted on the suggestion, and before long could
be found almost every evening with her.

Mrs. Maroney did not again allude to her valuables, and evidently felt
perfectly easy in regard to them, considering that she had them safely
secreted. One day, while Mrs. Maroney was in the cellar, Madam Imbert
called. Mrs. Cox met her and said:

"Sister is in the cellar; I will call her up."

"Never mind," remarked the Madam, "I'll just run down to her," and
stepped towards the cellar door.

Mrs. Cox quickly interposed and said:

"Oh! no; I will call her!"

This little incident showed Madam Imbert that something was going on
which they did not want her to know.

Mrs. Maroney soon came up, said she was delighted to see her, and did
not look at all confused.

Rivers, Cox, Horton and Barclay had formed themselves into a quartette
club and were nearly always together.

Rivers's arm had not healed as yet, and he still wore it in a sling. Cox
and he were on the best of terms, and the Jenkintowners regarded him, as
well as the other detectives, as permanent residents.

De Forest was happy beyond expression, and Mrs. Maroney seemed equally
so. She wrote letters daily to her husband and often spoke of Madam
Imbert and how deeply she felt for her, bowed down with care and alone
in the world. She very seldom alluded to De Forest and never spoke of
his being her constant companion.

While all was passing so pleasantly in Jenkintown, a terrible scene was
being enacted in Eldridge street jail. I had not posted White as to my
intention of sending the anonymous letter to Maroney, as I wished to
find what effect Maroney's conduct would have on him. The day after
Rivers had posted the letter, Shanks brought it to Maroney when he came
with the morning's mail. Besides my letter there was also one from Mrs.
Maroney. Maroney looked at the letters and opened the one from his wife
first. He read it, a pleased smile passing over his face, and then laid
it down and picked up my letter. He scanned the envelope carefully and
then broke the seal. White was watching him and wondered why he examined
the letter so closely. As he read, White was astonished to see a look of
deep anguish settle on his face. He seemed to be sinking from some
terrible blow. He recovered himself, read the letter over and over
again, then crushed it in his hand and threw it on the floor.

He sprang to his feet and walked rapidly up and down the hall; but
returned and picked up the letter before the wily White could manage to
secure it. White wondered what it was that troubled Maroney. He
whispered to Shanks:

"What the d----l is the matter with Maroney? He has received bad news. I
should like, in some way, to find out what it is. The old man will be
wondering what is in that note, and when I report, will blame me for
not finding out."

Maroney appeared almost crazed. He forced the letter into his pocket and
went into his cell without a word; but his face was a terrible index of
what was passing in his mind.

After a little, White and Shanks walked by his cell and saw him lying on
the bed, with his face hidden in the clothes. He did not come out for
over an hour; but when he did, he _seemed_ perfectly calm. He was very
pale, and it was astonishing to see the change wrought in him in so
short a time.

White met him as he came out, but did not appear to notice any
difference in him.

"Here, Maroney, have a cigar; they are a new brand. Shanks is a superior
judge of cigars. I think these are the best I have yet had, and I
believe I will get a box; I can get them for eleven dollars, and they
are as good as those they retail at twenty cents a piece."

Maroney held out his hand mechanically and took one. He put it into his
mouth, and without lighting it, commenced to chew it.

White, in one of his reports to me, says: "A man often shows his
desperation by his desire to get more nicotine than usual." Maroney did
not converse with White, and only said he wanted to write. He sat down
and wrote a note, but immediately tore it up. He wrote and tore up
several in this way, but finally wrote one to suit him. White quietly
told Shanks that when Maroney gave him the letter he was writing, he
must be sure and see its contents. Of course Shanks always obeyed
orders, and never neglected anything his uncle told him to do, even if
it was to forget something that had happened. In this way he was
extremely useful. It was getting late, and the jailer had told him two
or three times that he must go, but he did not take his departure until
Maroney had sealed the letter and handed it to him.

Maroney was in a terrible condition, and White found that it would be
impossible to get anything out of him that night, as the whole affair
was too fresh in his mind; so he got some brandy he had in his cell, and
asked him to take a drink. Maroney eagerly swallowed a brimming
glassfull, and took four or five drinks in rapid succession. He seemed
to suffer terrible anguish, and his whole frame trembled like a leaf. In
a few minutes he retired to his cell, evidently determined to seek
oblivion in sleep.

We will now follow Shanks to his hotel, where he is engaged in opening
Maroney's letter. Although the letter was very securely sealed, he
accomplished the task without much difficulty, and read as follows:

    "MADAM: I have received a strange letter. What does it mean? Are you
    playing false to me? Who is this man you have with you? where does
    he come from? Are you such a fool as not to know he is a tool of the
    Adams, and that you are acting with him? I cannot be with you. If I
    had my liberty I would hurry to your side, snatch you from this
    villain, and plunge my knife so deep into him that he would never
    know he had received a blow!!! Why are you so foolish? Do you love
    me? You have often said you did. You know I have done all in my
    power to make you happy, and have placed entire confidence in you.
    Why have you never told me about this man? Listen to me, and love me
    as before, and all will go well. Tell me all, 'and tell me it is not
    so bad as it is told to me!' Spurn this scoundrel, and have
    confidence in me forever!!!"
                                                                NAT.


Shanks hurriedly copied this letter, and mailed it after making another
copy, which he forwarded to me at the same time. In the morning he gave
White a copy of the letter, which revealed to him the cause of Maroney's
anguish.

Maroney came to White in the morning, and found him moody, and not
inclined to talk. Still he clung to him as his only hope. It was a
strange fascination which White had acquired over Maroney. Maroney
appeared to feel better, although he was still very pale, and seemed to
be comforted by White's presence, although he did not say a word about
his trouble.

We will now make a trip which Maroney would like to make, and return to
Jenkintown.

Maroney's letter arrived by the five P. M. mail, at Jenkintown, the day
following the one on which Shanks mailed it. In the morning Mrs. Maroney
had spent some time with Madam Imbert, and then had gone for a drive
with De Forest. They went to Manayunk, had a fish dinner washed down
with a bottle of champagne, and drove back as happy and free from care
as two children. Mrs. Maroney left the buggy at Cox's at half-past four,
and found Madam Imbert waiting for her. The Madam noticed that she was a
little exhilarated. After they had conversed for some time she asked
Mrs. Maroney out for a walk, and they strolled leisurely down to the
station. The train from Philadelphia had just passed through, and Mrs.
Maroney said: "Let us walk up to Stemples's and see if any letters have
come for us."

When they reached Stemples's, Mrs. Maroney went in and received a
letter. Madam Imbert was not so fortunate. "Oh!" laughed Mrs. Maroney,
"I have seen the time, when I was single, that I would receive half a
dozen letters a day; but this is more valuable than them all, as it is
from my husband. Heigh ho! I wonder what my darling Nat. has to say." At
the same time she broke the seal, and then proceeded to read the letter.

Madam Imbert walked a little way behind her, as was her habit. She was a
very tall, commanding woman, and made this her habit so that she could
glance at anything that Mrs. Maroney might read as they walked along. It
was a part of her business, and so she was not to be blamed for it. Mrs.
Maroney flushed at the first word she read, but as she went on her color
heightened, until she was red as a coal of fire. "Why," she muttered,
"Nat., you're a d----d fool!" When angered she always used language she
had acquired in her former life.

Madam Imbert heard her, and was anxious to see the contents of the
letter, but could only catch a word here and there as she looked over
Mrs. Maroney's shoulder.

Mrs. Maroney glanced over the letter hurriedly, and then read it again.
She muttered to herself, and the Madam hoped she was going to tell her
what it was that caused her hard words; but she did not, and soon folded
the letter up and put it away. As they neared Cox's she said: "Please
excuse me; I feel unwell, and fear I have been too much in the sun
to-day."

At this moment De Forest walked out of Josh.'s. "Mrs. Maroney," said
he, "will you come to the garden this evening?"

Madam Imbert turned to leave.

Mrs. Maroney looked him full in the face with flashing eyes, clenched
her little hand, and in a voice hoarse from passion, exclaimed: "What do
you want here, you scoundrel?"

[Illustration: "_Mrs. Maroney looked him full in the face with flashing
eyes, clenched her little hand, and in a voice hoarse from passion,
exclaimed: 'What do you want here, you scoundrel?'_"--Page 190.]

If a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet, De Forest could not have been
more astonished; he was struck speechless; his powers of articulation
were gone. She said not one word more, but stalked into the house and
closed the door with a bang that made him jump.

Madam Imbert wended her way to the tavern, but De Forest stood for fully
two minutes, seemingly deprived of the power of motion. He then darted
eagerly toward the door, determined to have an explanation, but was met
by Josh., who said: "You have done something that has raised the d----l
in Mrs. Maroney, and she will play the deuce with you if you don't clear
out. If you try to speak to her, she will pistol you, sure!"

"But what have I done?" asked De Forest. "It is only an hour since I
left her, and we were then on the best of terms. I have _always_ treated
her well!"

"Come, come!" said Josh., "don't stand talking here. People will see we
are having a fuss." And he took De Forest by the arm and led him toward
Stemples's.

Madam Imbert had met Rivers on her way, and sent him to find out how
affairs were progressing. He arrived at this moment. "Hello," said he to
Josh., "I was just coming to see you."

"Yes! You have come at the wrong time. Mrs. Maroney is as mad as
blazes, and would have shot De Forest if it had not been for me. I can't
tell what for, but, by the Eternal, she would have done it!"

De Forest was all in a maze. He could not imagine what he had done to
cause the woman he loved to become so excited as to desire to kill him.

They all three went to the hotel, and De Forest, although generally not
a drinking man, called them all up and treated. The fun of the whole
thing was that De Forest had not the slightest idea what it was that had
caused the trouble. Only an hour before she was by his side in the
buggy, and they were so happy and so loving! She had been cooing like a
turtle dove, and now, "Oh, wondrous change," she wished to shoot him. He
could not remember having uttered a single word that would wound the
most sensitive nature.

After tea, Madam Imbert walked down to Cox's, first seeing Rivers and
directing him to keep a close guard on the house that night, and
especially to watch the cellar-window, so as to know if anything took
place in the cellar. On arriving at Cox's she was shown into Mrs.
Maroney's room. Mrs. Maroney was in bed, but did not have her clothes
off. She had not been crying, but fairly quivered with suppressed
excitement. She rose and closed the door, and then burst out with, "Why,
Madam Imbert, have you ever heard of so foolish a man as my husband? Who
knows where De Forest comes from? Do you?"

"No," answered the Madam; "he was here when I came. Don't you know?"

"No. All I know is that I became acquainted with him here, when I first
came, and I found him so serviceable that I kept up the acquaintance;
But," she broke out in a wild, excited manner, "D--n him! I'll put a
ball through him if he dares to injure me."

"Keep cool, keep cool! What does it matter? You are excited; it is a bad
time to talk," urged Madam Imbert.

"But I must talk: I shall suffocate if I don't. Madam Imbert, I must
tell you all."

"No! You must not talk now. Calm yourself! You must keep cool! Think of
your poor husband languishing in prison, and remember that any false
move of yours may prove to his disadvantage."

"But what makes him charge me with receiving improper attentions from De
Forest? I know I have sometimes been foolish with him, but he is soft
and I have moulded him to my purpose. He has been my errand-boy, nothing
more; and now my husband thinks me untrue to him, when I would gladly
die for him, if it would help him. It is too hard to bear, too hard!!"

Madam Imbert had had the forethought to bring a bottle of brandy with
her, so she advised: "Don't make things worse than they are; you had
better say no more until morning. Here, have a little brandy; I saw you
were nervous, and so brought a bottle with me; take some, and then go to
bed. After a good sound sleep you will be able to see your way much
clearer than now."

"Oh, thank you," said Mrs. Maroney, as she eagerly seized the glass and
gulped down a large quantity.

Madam Imbert started to leave.

"Please don't go yet; I must tell you all," pleaded Mrs. Maroney.

"Wait till to-morrow," said Madam Imbert, "it is a bad time to talk."

"Madam Imbert, you are now my only friend, and I would like to have your
opinion as to who it is that is writing these letters about me to my
husband. If I knew the dirty dog, I would put a ball through him. I am
not fairly treated. I am Maroney's wife, and he should not believe such
slanders against me. As long as I live I will do all I can for him."

"Mrs. Maroney," said Madam Imbert, getting up, "I must not listen to
you; I will go."

"Please don't! Who can it be that is writing these reports from
Jenkintown?" again enquired Mrs. Maroney.

"That is a point upon which it is hard for me to enlighten you," replied
the Madam; "it might be Barclay or some of Josh.'s friends. Josh. is a
good clever fellow, for a brother-in-law, but I would not trust him too
much; he is a little inclined to talk, and Barclay may have drawn
something from him and written to your husband; I know De Forest don't
like him."

"I will see Josh. at once, and find out about this Barclay," said Mrs.
Maroney.

"You had better wait till morning," said Madam Imbert, as she rose to
leave the room; "I must go to bed, and you had better follow my
example."

Mrs. Maroney began to show the effects of the brandy she had been
drinking, but she took Madam Imbert's arm and went to the door with her.
It was now ten o'clock, but she requested the Madam to take a turn in
the garden with her. They had hardly taken two steps before Mrs.
Maroney stumbled over a man concealed at the side of the house. It was
Rivers, but he was up and off before the frightened ladies had a chance
to see him. Madam Imbert screamed lustily, although she well knew who it
was.

"D----n him," said Mrs. Maroney, "that's that De Forest; I will kill
him, sure! What was he doing here?"

Madam Imbert remarked that it was either he or Barclay.

"I know what he is looking after," said Mrs. Maroney; "I see through the
whole thing! De Forest is a tool of the Vice-President; he thinks he has
got my secrets, but I'll be after him yet." Her voice was hoarse and
dry, and plainly showed the effects of the brandy. Madam Imbert walked
out of the garden and went to the tavern, while Mrs. Maroney went into
the house.

Rivers, when he was disturbed in his watching of the cellar window,
rushed straight to Stemples's, where he found Barclay, Horton and Cox.
"How do you do, boys?" said he, "come and have a drink; I have just come
in from seeing my girl; she is a good one, and I think will make me
happy; had a long walk, though; over two miles, and I think I deserve a
glass."

Josh. was telling about Mrs. Maroney's quarrel. Rivers heard him
patiently through, and they had two or three drinks, when Mrs. Cox
stalked into the room. All the women in Jenkintown seemed on the
rampage, at least all those we are dealing with.

"Josh., you lazy, good for nothing fellow, I have been looking all over
the village for you!"

"Why, you ought to know you could find me here," said Josh.

"Come home at once; sister wants you to watch the house to-night! some
one has been lurking around there, and she wants you to find out who it
is."

"Well," said Josh., carelessly, "I'll come."

Rivers now spoke up: "I am not very busy just now, and I will watch with
you."

"Will you?" said Mrs. Cox, in a pleased tone; "would be much obliged to
you if you would; Josh. has been drinking so much that I can't place
much reliance on him."

"Certainly," said Rivers, and the trio started for the scene of action.

Mrs. Maroney was in bed when they arrived, but she hastily rose and came
to the door in her night dress.

"Now, Josh.," she commanded, "I want you to keep a close watch, and if
De Forest, or any one else comes by the cellar-window, just you think
they are coming to rob your house, and fire! Here is my revolver."

"I will take care of that," said Rivers, "I am going to stay up and
watch with Josh."

"Oh, thank you! Josh., you had better let Mr. Rivers have the revolver."

She went in, and Josh. turned the revolver over to Rivers. They then
secreted themselves where they could see any one coming into the yard.
In less than an hour Josh. was snoring. At three in the morning Rivers
roused him up, got him into the house, and then, thoroughly tired out,
started for home.




_CHAPTER XXII._


In the morning Jenkintown enjoyed the calm that always follows the
storm. Madam Imbert called on Mrs. Maroney, and found her suffering from
a severe headache. She said she feared she had taken too much champagne
the day before, and believed that De Forest had attempted to get her
drunk. She could not imagine why he watched the house. She was bound to
have nothing more to do with him, as she was certain he was a tool of
the Express Company. "And yet," she said, "I thought he was a man above
that sort of business! I thought he would disdain to sell himself for
such a purpose."

Madam Imbert advised her to be patient, and to be careful not to do De
Forest an injustice by judging him wrongfully. "You don't know," she
remarked, "but that he really loves you, and was only trying to see if
you were receiving other company." They conversed for some time on the
subject, and Madam Imbert finally found that Mrs. Maroney was very much
inclined to take her view of the subject. She said she really thought De
Forest loved her, and perhaps she had been too hasty with him. It was
Madam Imbert's best plan to take this course, as it would show what a
disinterested friend she was. She wanted to keep watch on Cox's house,
but in such a manner as not to excite suspicion.

Mrs. Maroney said she would write to Nat. and explain the matter, but
said she would like to find out who had written to her husband. Madam
Imbert and she cogitated over the subject for some time, but could not
decide upon any particular person. Finally Mrs. Maroney concluded she
would take a nap, as she thought she would feel much brighter
afterwards. She said she would write to her husband the first thing
after dinner, and asked the Madam to call a little later and take a walk
with her.

De Forest remained in the hotel all the morning. He did not call on Mrs.
Maroney, and vainly puzzled his brain to determine the cause of her
excitement. He came into the bar-room, where he found Rivers, as serene
as ever, and willing to console any one. In a few minutes Josh., Horton
and Barclay arrived. The _posse_ talked over the trouble of the
preceding night, and De Forest hoped that, as Josh. had come from the
scene of action, he would be able to enlighten him as to the cause of
Mrs. Maroney's strange conduct. But Cox was as much at a loss to account
for her passion as he. Said he: "All I know is that she is a regular
tartar, and no mistake! Whew! Didn't she rave though?"

The Vice-President and I received the reports in Philadelphia, and had a
quiet laugh over them. All was working to suit us.

In the afternoon Madam Imbert walked out with Mrs. Maroney, who had just
finished her letter to her husband. As they walked along she said, "I
told my husband that I knew nothing about the man with the long mustache
further than that he was living in Jenkintown before I left the South;
that when I first arrived here he did several kind things for me, and
had driven me into Philadelphia a few times when I could not get the
train, but that you, Madam Imbert, had always accompanied me. I spoke of
you as a perfect lady, and as being a true friend of mine, and that you
often cautioned me against talking too much. I said that if it was De
Forest he alluded to, I was perfectly safe in his company. I asked him
if he thought it likely that I, whose interests were identical with his,
would be likely to prove untrue to him, and told him he might rest
perfectly assured that I would do nothing without his knowledge and
consent."

They walked to Stemples's and posted the letter. On the way they met De
Forest, but Mrs. Maroney took no notice of him. After mailing the
letter, they strolled through the pleasure grounds for some time. At
last they separated, each taking their respective way home.

At the tavern Madam Imbert was met by De Forest, who requested a private
interview. She readily consented, and, after tea, met him in the
sitting-room. De Forest related his sorrowful story, and asked her if
she knew what had caused Mrs. Maroney to treat him so harshly.

She said, "these things will happen once in a while; it is part of a
woman's nature to take sudden and unaccountable freaks; but all will be
right by-and-by." She quoted Scott's beautiful lines:


     "O Woman! in our hours of ease
     Uncertain, coy and hard to please,
     And variable as the shade
     By the light quivering aspen made:
     When pain and anguish wring the brow,
     A ministering Angel thou--"


De Forest fervently hoped that, as she had brought "pain and anguish"
to his brow, she would now become his "ministering angel," and went off
somewhat comforted. Madam Imbert saw Mrs. Maroney in the evening and
told her of the interview with De Forest. This made her feel quite
happy, and she even remarked: "I think I have been too hard on the poor
fellow."

White and Maroney were together when Mrs. Maroney's letter arrived.
Maroney read it carefully through and then went to his cell. In the
afternoon, White observed him writing and directed Shanks to open the
letter when he received it. Shanks did so and found it was to his wife.

He wrote that he was happy to hear that she was still true to him, and
to find that he had been deceived. He felt assured that the blow must
have been aimed by some of his enemies. If he were at liberty he would
find the man, but as he was not he would have to wait. He directed her
to endeavor to find out who had sent the letter. As she assured him she
would do nothing without his approval, he was contented.

When I received a copy of his letter, I was convinced that he was trying
to make the best of a bad bargain. He could not be spared from Eldridge
street jail just at that time and had to trust his wife whether he would
or not.

White and he lived quietly together. He told White that he was confined
at the instigation of the Adams Express, who accused him of stealing
fifty thousand dollars from them.

"But, of course," said he, "I am innocent!"

Still, as I have before mentioned, he was anxious to break jail--an
unusual inclination for an innocent man.

About this time he happened to read in the papers an account of a
robbery in Tennessee, in which a description of the stolen money and
bills was given. As he and White were walking in the hall, he said to
White:

"White, I wonder if it would not be a good move to try some game in my
case? Of course, I am innocent! I think the messenger, Chase, the guilty
party, and I want to arrange some plan to throw suspicion on him or some
one else; but (in an amusing tone) there is no one else. Chase received
the money from me and put it into the pouch! Still, I can't prove this,
as there were no witnesses. It will be my oath against his, and as the
company have taken his part, he will have the best of it. It is a
strange affair. Chase was at the counter checking off the packages as I
put them in the pouch. He now says that he did not see all the packages,
as they went in so quickly that he had all he could do to check them
off. Strange, indeed! If I were checking off packages of such large
amounts I think I should be likely to look at them, don't you? I wish in
some way to prove Chase dishonest. At present it is even between us, but
the company support him and leave me in the lurch."

"Yes," said White, "it is just about as you say, an even thing between
you; but the company have undoubtedly sided with Chase because you have
the most money, and they think they can recover the amount from you or
from your friends! But I don't see how you can clear yourself. If Chase
only swears he did not receive the money, it will go hard with you."

White thought that now Maroney would propose to him to get Shanks to
have some duplicate keys of the company's pouch made; but apparently he
did not yet feel fully certain that he could trust White. He broached
the subject several times, but finally dropped it altogether.

A few days after, Maroney had another talk with White and treated him
with much more confidence than before. White said little, and was a good
man to talk to. Maroney made no admissions, but all his expressions and
manners showed guilt. White at least did not accept them as showing his
innocence. He always pointed to Chase as the guilty party. Maroney
frequently brought up his troubles as a topic of conversation with
White; but White was professedly so employed with his own business that
he said but little. All that Maroney said to him seemed to go in at one
ear and out at the other. When he made a remark it was a casual one and
had no bearing on the subject. This caused Maroney to talk still more,
devising plans for throwing suspicion on Chase. White casually said:

"What sort of a man is Chase? A smart, shrewd fellow who would pick up a
money package if he saw it lying handy, and dispose of it?"

"No," replied Maroney, slowly weighing every word. "I don't think he
would. He is a pretty fair man; but the company have no right to make
him a witness against me!"

"Who are his friends?" enquired White.

"His father lives in Georgia; he is a whole-souled old planter; has a
good many slaves; but his property is much encumbered. Chase is a good
fellow after all!"

"By-the-by," asked White, "does he ever go to see the fancy girls?"

"Yes, he does, occasionally," answered Maroney.

"Would it not be a good plan to take four or five thousand dollars and
get the girls to stuff it into his pants pocket; then get him drunk, and
as he started away have some detective arrest him?"

"Yes," answered Maroney, "it might be done, and Gus McGibony is the man
to do it. He is a good friend of mine. If I were only out, I might do
something. White, your idea is a good one, you are a splendid contriver;
but I must find some one to carry out the plan. I have friends in
Montgomery, and I think Charlie May would help me. No, he is too much
under the influence of his wife! Patterson would help me some; but I
think Porter is the best man for me!"

"Porter? who is he?"

"He is the clerk of the Exchange Hotel," said Maroney.

"He would be a good man for you if you can trust him."

"I know I can do that! he would do anything in the world for me."

"He is just the man to be familiar with the girls. Clerks at hotels
always are. Girls must often stop at the hotel, and he might arrange to
get Chase into a room with one of them, and then the rest could be
easily accomplished. Does Chase board at the Exchange?"

"Yes," answered Maroney. "White, you're a genius! I have a good mind to
write to Porter at once and lay your plan before him."

White looked at him in astonishment. "Are you crazy?" said he; "would
you trust such matters on paper? I _never_ do."

"You are right again," exclaimed Maroney.

They talked the affair over for several days, the trouble being to get a
proper person to act as a go-between to arrange matters with Porter.
Maroney asked White why he could not trust Shanks.

"You could; but the trouble is he has never been in the South."

"That would make but little difference."

"No, now I think of it, I don't know as it would. He would only have to
carry the messages, and Shanks always obeys orders."

"Well, I will think it over," remarked Maroney; and the matter dropped,
he evidently fearing that Shanks would get the money and clear out.

One day he said: "White, I wonder if the Express Company would not
settle the matter with me? I am not guilty of the theft, but things look
blue for me. I have some money, and I think I will make a proposition to
them."

"You could not do a more foolish thing; they would at once conclude that
you were certainly guilty, and make you suffer for it," argued White.

White kept me informed of all that went on, and I had instructed him
that we would make no compromise. The company did not care so much for
the money, as of making an example of the guilty party. That would show
the other employes what would be their fate if they were caught in
similar peculations.

About this time Maroney's brother came to New York, from Danielsville.
He was a man of good standing, well-meaning, and honest in his
intentions. Maroney had looked anxiously for his coming, as he supposed
his brother would be able to effect his release on bail. He knew that
his brother alone could not make the bail-bond good, as one hundred
thousand dollars is a large sum to be raised, but supposed that by his
influence he might get others to sign with him.

I placed "shadows" on his brother's track, and they, with White on the
inside, and Shanks on the outside, kept me fully informed of what he was
intending to do. He appeared to feel very bad at finding his brother in
jail, and evinced a desire to do all he could for him. He had a long
interview with Maroney and his lawyer, but everything appeared against
him. Maroney's brother had no property in New York, and the only way he
could raise the necessary bail was by giving a mortgage on his property
as security to some man in New York, and have him go on the bond.

The matter was well canvassed between them, but finally, like all the
other plans devised to effect his release, was abandoned as
impracticable. The brother did not like to procure bail in this way, for
if he did, and Maroney should run away, the Adams Express would
prosecute the bondsmen, who in turn would foreclose the mortgage, and in
all likelihood become the owners of his property. He would do a great
deal for his brother, but felt that this was asking too much. His duty
to his family would not permit him to run so great a risk, and he
therefore returned home without accomplishing the object of his visit.

So far, all my schemes had proved successful.

White had weakened Maroney's confidence in his friends. I wanted him to
see and feel that all those whom he considered his friends before the
jail door closed upon him, were so no longer. One by one he saw them
abandon him to his fate, till he had no one left on whom to rely, but
White. His brother had come and gone without accomplishing anything. He
feared that even his wife was untrue to him, and that she, instead of
proving a safe guardian for his property, might at any moment leave with
De Forest and the money. His wife had often spoken of a Madam Imbert,
but he had never seen her, and knew not whether she was to be trusted.
From his wife's correspondence, he was disposed to think favorably of
her, and several times was on the point of sending word to his wife to
pay him a visit and bring Madam Imbert with her. But what good would it
do? After all, it was better to trust White.

One day White turned to Maroney, after writing several letters and
holding a long interview with Shanks, and said: "Maroney, I think I can
procure bail. My lawyers have been working hard in my behalf, and one of
them went to St. Louis to see my prosecutors. He found they would do
nothing unless they got all their money back. Of course I could not give
them that," said he with a wink, "as I haven't it; and so my lawyer was
unable to do anything for me. Shanks, however, has just been in, and he
has not been idle during the five days he has been absent. He has made
arrangements with a party to go my bail, provided I will advance a
considerable sum as security. Nothing is needed now but security, and I
think I can manage it. I can give them some money, and they will then
manage to get me out on straw bail. I can then loaf around town,
enjoying myself, and if I cannot compromise the matter, or if I think
that the trial will go against me, I can run away. In this way I shall
lose my security, and my bondsmen will have to fight the bond; but
still," said he, with a chuckle, the keen Yankee showing out, "but still
I shall not do so badly, after all, as I shall have about twenty
thousand dollars left to begin business with in a new place."

Maroney was more than ever impressed with his ability, and began to
think that White was now his only true friend, and the best man to help
him out of his difficulty. He had now been in jail several months, and
it was time to get matters fixed up. Why could he not trust White to
help him? He was a good contriver, and apparently could be trusted.
Still it would not do to be too certain, so he would quietly feel his
way along. He gradually broached the subject to White by saying, "White,
I feel very bad at the idea of your leaving me; after you go, all my
friends will be away from me. I might rely on Porter's help, or perhaps
on Patterson's. McGibony is a good fellow, and would willingly help me,
but I can't trust him too far, as he could be easily pumped. Moreover,
the great trouble is, that they are all down South. I can not take my
wife from Jenkintown, and yet I feel as though the Adams Express were
watching her. What must I do? You are a keen fellow; can't you help me
when you get out? I have some money of my own, and I would gladly pay
you for your trouble."

"Well," said White, "I shall have all I can do to attend to my own
business for the first four or five days I am out, but after that I
might help you. I don't know as I shall be able to do you any good, but
if I make an effort, we must have a clear understanding that my
connection with the matter must never be known. If I wish to communicate
with you I will send Shanks, who will be at once admitted to see you as
an old friend. If I were you, I would not talk to any of your New York
friends about it. They don't seem to care much for you, and very seldom
come to see you. Your lawyer is not doing much for you, and it would be
just as well not to let him into the secret either. Above all, you must
not let your wife or Madam Imbert know any thing about it. I have had
much trouble once or twice through women, and have determined never
again to trust them. It is utterly impossible for a woman to keep a
secret. She may love you to distraction, but confide a secret to her and
she is never satisfied till she divulges it." Maroney eagerly listened
to all White had to say, and then replied: "White, depend upon it, you
are the right man for me! If you will only figure for me as well as you
have done for yourself, you will have me out of jail in a very short
time."

"What do you want me to undertake?"

"The first thing is to carry out the plan you proposed the other day--of
placing the money on Chase's person. I will make the blow more telling
by getting you to have a key made similar to the pouch-key, and putting
it into his pocket at the same time. I have a fine drawing of the key
and you can easily have it made. I know Chase is the guilty party, and
this move will exonerate me and bring the proper person to justice. I
am sorry for Chase, but he can't expect me to suffer for his crime. I
will furnish you the necessary money to put into his pocket, and give
you a letter to Gus. McGibony, who will arrest Chase at the proper
moment."

"That's easily arranged," said White, "and McGibony need not know any
thing about the dodge. I shall need him only to make the arrest at the
moment when the girl gives me the wink. The worst of the thing is, we
shall be compelled to have a woman in the case any way; but I am
acquainted with a splendid looking girl here, who may, perhaps, keep her
mouth shut. I will send her to Montgomery, get her into the Exchange
Hotel, and she will soon manage to draw Chase into her room. When he
goes in I will get McGibony and have him arrested and searched as soon
as he gets to his own room."

"Capital! capital!!" said Maroney, jumping up and walking across the
hall, rubbing his hands with glee. "White, if you succeed in this I will
pay you well for it."

"What kind of money was it the company lost?" asked White.

"Oh! of course I don't know; I never saw it!" quickly answered Maroney,
at the same time looking into White's face with an expression in his eye
which showed that he wished to read his inmost thoughts. White took no
notice of this look, but went on with apparent unconcern. "Well, one of
the first things we must do is to find out what kind of money was stolen
from the Express Company, procure bills of the same kind, and when they
are found on Chase, he is gone, and his conviction is certain."

"Yes! yes!" muttered Maroney, as the thought flashed through his mind,
"can he really suspect me of having stolen the money?" "Yes, it would be
a good plan. You might find out what banks the company received the
money from and get some of their bills! It is a good thing to look
after, any way."

Maroney was not fully prepared to trust White, although he would
eventually have to do it. If he had been scanned by a close observer,
there would have been discovered in his mind a doubt of White's fealty,
caused by the home-thrust he gave when he asked about the money.




_CHAPTER XXIII._


At Jenkintown all was well. Mrs. Maroney had made up with De Forest and
his present happiness was so great that he had entirely forgotten his
past sorrow. He was very fond of Flora and enjoyed walking with her,
especially when her mother was along. Madam Imbert sometimes drove into
Philadelphia with Mrs. Maroney to do shopping, and De Forest was always
their coachman. Mrs. Maroney was loyal to a promise she had made her
husband, and never went out driving with De Forest unaccompanied by
Madam Imbert.

De Forest had only one seat to his buggy, and it was rather irksome to
be conveying two ladies around all the time. He had but little room,
seated between them, and as the weather was warm, he was often very
uncomfortable. He was tall, and his knees were jammed closely against
the dash-board; but he bore all the inconvenience manfully.

It was always their custom to drive to Mitchell's when they went to the
city. The ladies would alight here, while De Forest would stable his
horses. At dinner time they would meet again and drive home. One day,
while in the city, Madam Imbert said to Mrs. Maroney:

"Wait here a few minutes for me, I want to get some money changed."

She left Mrs. Maroney at Mitchell's and walked to Third street. Here
she went into a bank and drew five hundred dollars I had left there for
her and came out. She then walked up Third street and went into the
office of Miller Bros., brokers, where she had the money changed into
Eastern funds.

Mrs. Maroney was smart. She had followed closely after Madam Imbert and
acted the part of a "shadow." As the latter came out of the brokers'
office and approached the corner of Chestnut street, Mrs. Maroney met
her.

"I am glad to meet you," said she; "I am on my way to Second street to
get some goods. Did you get your money changed?"

Madam Imbert was prepared.

"Yes," said she, "but I did not have much. I have the most of my money
in a safe place. At the Third street bank, they told me they did not
have any Eastern funds and looked very queerly at me, so I went to the
brokers' office and they finally changed it. A person has to be
cautious, as it is sometimes very difficult to succeed. People ask
questions at times that it is impossible for one to answer. You have
never had to do so much in this way as I have! have you?"

"No!" replied Mrs. Maroney, coloring deeply; "but I suppose I shall have
to learn! I will tell you a secret of mine some time. You may be of
great use to me, will you help me if you can?"

"Yes," said Madam Imbert, recalling her poor husband languishing in
confinement. "Your husband is like mine, both are in prison. I feel
strongly drawn toward you and will do all I can for you. Oh! why can't I
succeed in getting my darling free!"

They had reached the dry-goods store and went in to make their
purchases.

I was desirous of impressing upon Mrs. Maroney the difficulties in the
way of changing money, and my plan was successful beyond my
expectations. She saw the trouble Madam Imbert had at the bank and at
the brokers, and learned that bankers and brokers were liable to ask
very pointed questions when changing money. If she had any idea of
changing her stolen money she might be frightened out of it, and prefer
to rely for assistance on Madam Imbert, who seemed an experienced hand.

After they had made their purchases the ladies returned to Mitchell's
and were driven home by De Forest.

Madam Imbert spent the evening with Mrs. Maroney, but nothing of
interest transpired. A day or two after, as they were seated in the
garden, Mrs. Maroney took Madam Imbert partially into her confidence and
gave her a sketch of her life, which, it must be confessed, as narrated
by her, made her appear very pure and spotless. She said that Maroney
met her a heart-broken widow, and that she married him only to prevent
him from committing suicide, so desperately smitten was he; that they
came to Montgomery, where Maroney was appointed agent of the Adams
Express--a very lucrative position--and then continued:

"Maroney had a good deal of money of his own, but did not talk much
about it, in fact kept it a secret from every one but me. No one is
obliged to state what he is worth. He was a very kind-hearted man and
fairly idolized my little Flora. He was making arrangements to buy a
plantation and a lot of slaves; had made money buying and selling
horses, and owned a large interest in a livery stable in Montgomery. On
a trip he made to the North he purchased a fast horse named "Yankee
Mary," and used to take me out for a drive every day. Nat. is one of the
best men that ever lived, but he is a little inclined to be careless. We
were as happy and contented as could be, when--oh! unfortunate day for
us!--the Adams Express was robbed and my husband was accused of the
theft. He was arrested in Montgomery, but liberated on small bail. Soon
afterward I came North on a visit, and when he came to bring me home he
was arrested in New York and thrown into prison. I immediately went
South, sold all his property and secreted the money about me, so that
the Adams Express would not get hold of it. I have now the money
secreted here; but there have been a great many small burglaries
committed around here, and I am in constant dread of its being stolen. I
don't dare leave Jenkintown for a night, and fervently wish my husband
were out of jail to take care of it. What do you do with your money,
Madam Imbert?"

"I take care of it in various ways. Sometimes I carry large amounts
concealed on my person; but the last time I was away I placed the most
of it in a safe place."

"I wish I knew of a safe place. If my husband were only out, he would
soon find one," remarked Mrs. Maroney.

"What are his prospects for getting out?" asked the Madam.

"Well, I don't know, indeed; he is sometimes hopeful, sometimes in
despair; he has been writing me lately of a friend of his named White,
who was imprisoned a day or two after him. White has managed to make
arrangements to effect his own release on bail, and when he gets out,
has promised to assist Nat."

"If White managed to get himself out, I should think him just the man to
assist your husband," said Madam Imbert.

"Nat. thinks so too; but he probably will not decide on any plan until
White gets out, when they together may do something."

A day or two after this long conversation, Mrs. Maroney again alluded to
the robberies taking place in Jenkintown, and expressed much anxiety for
the safety of her treasure.

Madam Imbert informed her that she expected a friend of hers to come in
a day or two to exchange some money for her. She had to have some to
send to her husband's lawyer, who was making every effort to effect his
release. "If your money is bulky, from being in bills of small
denominations, he might exchange it for you and give you large bills,
which you could easily carry with you. I have transacted a good deal of
business with him, and have always found him careful and honest. If you
wish, I will introduce you to him."

Mrs. Maroney was always very suspicious, and her fears were somewhat
aroused by the proposition. "What sort of a man is he?" she inquired.

"I know nothing further of him than what I have told you; he has always
acted honestly with me."

"Could you not manage to have the money exchanged for me without my
being known in the transaction?" asked Mrs. Maroney.

"Yes, I could, but it would be better for you to see him."

"Oh, no; there is no necessity of his knowing me. You can introduce me
as a friend, if you like, but get the money changed as if it were your
own, and pay him well for it."

"Just as you please," answered the Madam.

Mrs. Maroney wished in this way to compromise Madam Imbert, and get her
into the same boat with Maroney and her. I was doing everything possible
to bring out the money, and was able to protect my detectives. I had
placed tempting bait for both Maroney and his wife, and they were
nibbling strongly. My anglers were experts, and would soon hook their
fish, and after playing them carefully would land them securely.

Mrs. Maroney's confidence in Madam Imbert increased daily, until finally
she said to her: "Madam Imbert, you would do me a great favor if you
would take charge of some money packages I have. You could put them in a
safe place, and let me have small amounts now and then, as I needed
them. When my husband gets out we can use the money; but now we do not
need it. The Adams Express might find out I have money, and they might
try to get possession of it. It is not theirs, but they would make
trouble for me if they could."

"No," replied the Madam, "that I could not do. I don't want to be
bothered with other people's money. I have enough trouble with my own.
If I should take yours, I should never have any rest, fearing it might
be stolen; and if it should be, I could never forgive myself. No, it is
better for you to take care of it. I will advise you all I can, but
cannot take the responsibility of protecting your property."

Mrs. Maroney wrote to her husband and asked his advice. She informed him
that she had followed Madam Imbert and had discovered her exchanging
money, thus proving that she was telling the truth; and now she knew she
could trust her. She spoke of the Madam's refusal to take charge of the
money, but said she had agreed to get it exchanged, and asked him what
she had better do.

Maroney talked the affair over with White, and asked his opinion as to
the best course to pursue. "She may do very well," said he, "but I don't
know as I would trust her. You never saw her. She may be a first-rate
woman, or she may be the opposite. If I were in your place I should wish
to see her before I trusted her. It would be well to have your wife
bring her to the jail to see you. Some women are smart, and she may be.
As a general thing women are very good as playthings, but trusting them
is an entirely different matter."

Maroney carefully considered the matter, and finally wrote to his wife,
directing her to induce Madam Imbert to accompany her to Eldridge street
jail, as he wanted to see her and judge of her character before trusting
her too far.

On receipt of this letter, Mrs. Maroney called on Madam Imbert, said she
was going to New York to see her husband, and asked the Madam to
accompany her. She said they would have a pleasant trip, and return home
the same evening.

De Forest came up at this moment, and interrupted the conversation.

"Good morning, ladies," said he gaily, "I have come to ask you to take
a fish-dinner with me at Manayunk."

Madam Imbert declined the invitation, but Mrs. Maroney concluded to go,
and started off with the happy De Forest. Madam Imbert returned to
Stemples's, hired his team, and drove into the city. She reported to me,
and asked for instructions about going to New York with Mrs. Maroney. I
told her to go; gave her full instructions, and then had an interview
with the Vice-President. I told him that all was working well, and
received his congratulations. Everything seemed auspicious, and pointed
to speedy success. It was true that a good deal of money was being
spent, but there was no other way to carry the matter to a successful
termination.

Madam Imbert returned to Jenkintown in time for supper, and, after a
hearty meal, called at Cox's. She found no one at home but Mrs. Cox and
the children. Mrs. Cox said her sister had not returned from her ride,
and she feared that she must have met with some accident. Madam Imbert
conversed with her until between eight and nine, when Josh. and Rivers
came in.

Mrs. Cox said, "Josh., Mrs. Maroney has not reached home yet. I fear she
has met with some accident."

"Hasn't she? Well, I'll go and hunt her up. Come along, Rivers."

"Josh., you good for nothing fellow. You must wait here; don't you know
you should not leave the house unguarded at this time?"

"Oh!" thought Madam Imbert, "danger in leaving the house, eh! So there
are two more in the secret,--Josh. and his wife!"

Josh. said he would only step down the road, and would soon return.

Nine o'clock came, but no Mrs. Maroney or De Forest. Madam Imbert did
not know what to make of it, and began to think something unusual was
under way. She arose to leave, but Mrs. Cox said: "Please don't leave me
alone. Josh. will soon be back. Won't you stay down and watch the house,
while I put the children to bed? Flora is asleep, and I am lonesome. I
do wish that shiftless fellow would come home."

"I am very tired," remarked Madam Imbert, preparing to leave, "and am
afraid the tavern will be closed, as it is getting late; but I will see
if I can find Josh., and send him home."

"If you don't find him, please come back," pleaded Mrs. Cox.

"Well, I'll do that," said she, going out. She walked to Stemples's, and
without going into the bar-room, where she knew she would find Josh.,
went to her room and instructed Miss Johnson to find Rivers and tell him
to keep Josh. for an hour. She then returned to Cox's.

Miss Johnson found that Rivers was with Josh., Barclay and Horton, in
the bar-room. She walked by the door, and, unobserved by the others,
gave Rivers a signal to come out. He slipped out, and as he passed her
she said: "Rivers, keep Cox for an hour," and in a second he was back
calling for more drinks, and getting off jokes which brought down roars
of laughter.




_CHAPTER XXIV._


Mrs. Cox was very much pleased when Madam Imbert returned, and started
up stairs to put the children to bed. There was not a moment to lose. As
soon as they left the room Madam Imbert rushed to the outer door and
listened. She was satisfied. No one was coming, and so, grasping a lamp,
she went down into the cellar. Her quick eye took in every thing at a
glance, but she could discover nothing out of the way. The floor was a
common earthen one, but no signs of recent digging were to be seen. She
pitched in, and for a few moments worked like a Trojan; she removed and
replaced all the barrels, crocks, dishes, everything under which
articles might possibly be concealed, but found nothing. She again
searched carefully over the floor, and in the centre of the cellar saw
slight signs of where the ground might have been lately dug up, and the
soil carefully replaced. She knelt down to examine it more carefully,
when she heard the rumbling of wheels. She sprang to her feet and rushed
up stairs. She was none too soon, as she was hardly seated before Mrs.
Maroney came in. She was greatly surprised to see Madam Imbert, and
exclaimed: "What! you here? It is rather late for you to be out, is it
not?" Madam Imbert saw at once that she was slightly intoxicated. She
replied:

"Yes indeed it is! I found your sister all alone, and she begged me to
stay until she got the children in bed."

Mrs. Cox came in at this moment, looking very angry. "Where have you
been all this time? You ought to know better than to leave me all alone.
Josh. has gone out with Rivers, and I believe they must be drinking. I
am angry with Rivers. Josh. is getting to drink more than ever since he
came here. It is too bad in you to stay away so long! I had to beg Madam
Imbert to stay with me, and Flora has just gone to bed crying for her
ma!"

"Madam Imbert, I am very sorry I have been the cause of your late stay,"
said Mrs. Maroney. Then, pointing to some dirt on the Madam's
dress--which had come from the cellar--she exclaimed: "What's that on
your dress?"

Madam Imbert looked carelessly at it, and said: "Why, I thought I had
brushed that all off! When I was out looking for Josh. I stumbled and
gave my knee a terrible wrench." Then glancing at the clock, she said:
"Why, how late it is! Miss Johnson will think that I am lost. Good
night!"

"No, don't go yet; have a little brandy? It will do you good, as the air
is quite chilling. Do you know that De Forest is a very fine fellow? I
have a much higher opinion of him than ever before." She got the brandy
and partially filled a tumbler with it. Madam Imbert just touched the
liquor with her lips, and then passed it back to Mrs. Maroney, who
drained the glass at a single draught.

"You are doing wrong," remarked the Madam; "you should remember your
promise to your husband."

"Well, I shall not be going to-morrow. I shall suffer for this by having
a severe head-ache. Was any one with you, down here, while sister was
putting the children to bed?" asked Mrs. Maroney, looking full into
Madam Imbert's face, but she saw nothing suspicious there. "No,"
answered Madam Imbert, as innocently as a lamb.

The two ladies walked out of the house together, and Mrs. Maroney
accompanied the Madam a short distance up the street, when they met
Josh. and Rivers. Mrs. Maroney went home with Josh., and Madam Imbert
told Rivers to keep watch on Cox's house, as something was in the wind.
Rivers informed her she would have to hurry back to the town, as
Stemples would soon close up for the night. Rivers passed slowly around
the house. He knew that Josh. had taken enough to make him sleep well,
and that Mrs. Maroney was in about the same condition, so that Mrs. Cox
was the only one he had to fear. After a while he crawled close up to
the cellar window. He heard an animated conversation going on inside,
but could not distinguish the words. Some one closed a door with a bang,
and all sound ceased. He looked up and noticed a light pouring through a
narrow window, which he knew lighted a closet opening off from the
sitting-room. He climbed up to it and saw, what was to him at least, an
amusing scene. Josh., his wife, and Mrs. Maroney, were seated in the
room. Mrs. Maroney looked as though in a violent passion, and plainly
showed that she had been drinking. Josh. was making desperate efforts to
look and act perfectly sober, but in spite of his efforts he would
occasionally give a loud hiccough, while Mrs. Cox sat bolt upright in
her chair, looking in sober disgust on both of them. Rivers, in his new
position, could see and hear all that was going on. Mrs. Maroney was
talking in an excited manner.

"What brought that Madam Imbert here to-night? I am suspicious of that
woman. She is very smart, and I saw dirt on her dress. It seems plain to
me that she has been in the cellar, and down on her knees. What made you
go up stairs and leave her here all alone?"

"You have confidence in her, but you have been drinking, and that makes
you suspicious," replied Mrs. Cox.

"How dare you talk to me in this way?" yelled Mrs. Maroney. "I know my
business! You know why I am living here, and supporting you and your
worthless, good for nothing vagabond of a husband. He could never earn a
living for himself, to say nothing of taking care of a family. All I
want you to do is to obey me and keep your mouths shut, and I will pay
you well for it; Josh. is always drunk and blabbing about."

Josh. attempted to say something.

"Hold your tongue, you fool! you are so drunk now you don't know what
you are doing!"

"Why," said Cox, "I did take a drop too much, but I don't believe I have
taken half so much as you!"

In a second Mrs. Maroney grasped a pitcher and smashed it over Josh.'s
skull! Mrs. Cox sprang to assist her husband. For a moment there was a
lively time, and the prospects were good for a regular scene, but quiet
was soon restored, and Josh., muttering, went off to bed.

[Illustration: _In a second, Mrs. Maroney grasped a pitcher and smashed
it over Josh.'s skull._--Page 222.]

"I must go into the cellar the first thing in the morning," said Mrs.
Maroney. "Don't look at me in that way; my faculties are all clear. No
one must go into it until I come down, as I want it to remain just as it
is. I am suspicious of that Madam Imbert. There was no necessity of her
being here so late, or of your leaving her alone, you fool! Be sure,
now, not to let any one go down!" Mrs. Maroney then took a lamp and
started for her room. Rivers listened for some time, and finding all
quiet, went up to Stemples's.

He saw a light in Madam Imbert's room, and after listening around, and
finding no one stirring, he went quietly under her window and threw some
dirt against the panes. The light in the room was instantly turned down.
Soon afterward, the window was noiselessly raised, and Madam Imbert
poked her head out. "Who's there?" she asked, in a low tone.

"Rivers," he replied; "like to see you; important."

"Wait," said she; "I will be with you at the front door directly."

She was acquainted with all the modes of egress, and threading her way
through the darkness, soon stood with Rivers in front of the house. He
reported all that had taken place.

Madam Imbert said: "I think it is all right, but still I may be
mistaken, and we must be sure. Can't you find some way to get into the
cellar? There is a small window, about two feet by thirteen inches,
which you might remove, and gain access in that way. It will be light at
four o'clock; it is now twelve, and every one at Cox's will be sound
asleep at that time. You can then slip in, and if I have disarranged
anything, put it to rights. Be sure not to get caught!"

"I will certainly do it," said Rivers, as he started to return to Cox's.

During his absence some one had set loose a dog that Cox owned. It was a
miserable cur, but was long-winded, like its master, and possessed of
good barking qualities. Rivers got well concealed, but the dog was after
him--bark, bark, bark; he tried all he could to quiet him, but could
not. Soon a neighboring dog commenced to howl; then another, and
another, until all the dogs in the village had joined in a grand chorus.
He did not know what to do. He was concealed by the side of a fence, but
did not dare strike the dog, which kept a few paces from him, barking
incessantly. Mrs. Maroney heard the noise, and opening her window, said;
"Sic, sic; good fellow, sic."

Rivers jumped up and got the dog to follow him until he reached a field
some distance from the house, when, with a well-directed throw he
stunned him with a large stone, and soon stamped all life out of him. He
then took the "melancholy remains," placed them at Barclay's door, and
returned to Cox's, where he found all quiet. He returned to his old
position and remained until day began to dawn.

At dawn he crawled to the window, easily removed it, and slipped into
the cellar. He examined everything carefully, found some marks on the
floor where barrels had been removed, and in less than half an hour had
obliterated all traces of Madam Imbert's operations. He then crawled
out, replaced the window, and quietly returned to his boarding-house. He
had made arrangements by which he could always let himself in or out at
any hour of the night. The family he boarded with thought he was
somewhat of a "rake," but as he always paid his bills promptly, liked
him for a boarder.

In the morning Madam Imbert was on the lookout, and between nine and ten
Rivers came along. He reported that he had replaced everything in the
cellar, and described how he had killed Josh.'s dog and left his remains
at Barclay's.

Madam Imbert strolled down to Cox's, and met Mrs. Maroney at the door.
She was more polite than usual, having made an examination of the cellar
and found her suspicions baseless. Soon Josh. and Rivers made their
appearance. Rivers remarked that he had heard a strange dog barking the
night before, and got up to find out what was going on, but could
discover nothing.

"Yes," said Mrs. Maroney, "that was Josh.'s dog. A man was lurking
around here before I went to bed, so I let the dog out. In a short time
I heard it after some one, and opened my window and set it on. You see,
Josh., how necessary it is for you to keep sober. If you had been up you
might have shot that scoundrel. This morning I saw his footprints
distinctly impressed in the walks."

"Well," said Josh., "if my dog got hold of him, he made a hole in his
leg, I'll bet. I know he is a good dog."

"Yes, I think he is," said Rivers, as he and Josh. strolled over toward
Barclay's.

Barclay met them on the way. "Josh.," says he, "that dog of mine is a
splendid animal, by George! You ought to have heard him bark last night.
A strange dog came around my place; my dog tackled him, and 'oh,
Moses,' how they _fit_! It ended by my dog's killing his antagonist.
Come and see how he _chawed_ him up!"

He led the way to where the dead carcass lay. As soon as they came in
sight of it Josh. dashed forward, and raising the dead animal by its
caudal appendage, angrily exclaimed: "That's my dog! You must be the man
who was lurking around my house last night! You had better go down and
explain to Mrs. Maroney what you were doing around there."

[Illustration: _Raising the dead animal by its caudal appendage, he
angrily exclaimed, "That's my dog!"_--Page 226.]

"What do you suppose I could be doing at your house?" asked Barclay,
much perplexed. "Why, I was not out of my house once last night."

"I tell you," said Josh., "Mrs. Maroney will walk into you when she
finds this out. You ought to have seen her last night. She smashed a
pitcher over my head, and I believe she would have killed me, if my wife
had not pitched into her. Of course I could not strike back, as she is a
woman."

Rivers invited them up to Stemples's, and in less than an hour Cox and
he had impressed upon Barclay the necessity of his seeing Mrs. Maroney
and explaining to her that he had not been lurking around the night
before.

They started off together, and arrived at Josh.'s residence just as
Madam Imbert and Mrs. Maroney were coming out. Barclay immediately went
up to her and assured her that he had not been loafing around the night
before.

"Who said you had?" said Mrs. Maroney, now fully convinced that it _was_
he. "Who said you had?" and she opened upon him with a perfect tirade of
abuse.

Madam Imbert took her by the arm and drew her to one side. "Mrs.
Maroney, don't take any notice of that man. He is a fool, and your best
plan is to let him severely alone. Some people may be wiser than others,
and will begin to suspect that something is wrong if you go on so. You
know the old saying: 'Walls have ears?'"

"You are right, you seem to be always right," said Mrs. Maroney, and she
let the matter drop.




_CHAPTER XXV._


The two women left Barclay perfectly dumbfounded and walked over to the
garden. Mrs. Maroney said she was going to New York in the morning to
see her husband, and begged the Madam to accompany her. Madam Imbert
agreed to go, saying that she had some purchases to make. They concluded
to hire Stemples's team in the morning and drive into Philadelphia, put
it up at some livery stable, go to New York, visit Maroney, return to
Philadelphia, and drive home in the evening.

Nothing of importance took place the day they visited New York. Green
knew of their intended trip and "shadowed" them to New York and back.
All he had to report was that nothing had transpired worthy of mention.
It is quite as important to find that nothing takes place as to note
what actually occurs, for thus the case is cleared of all uncertainty.
The "shadow" reports truthfully of all things just as he finds them.

The women, on their arrival in New York, went directly to Eldridge
street jail and Mrs. Maroney introduced Madam Imbert to her husband. She
then had a long private conversation with him and afterwards re-joined
Madam Imbert. The three had a pleasant chat, Maroney acting in all
respects the part of a perfect gentleman. His face showed deep anxiety,
but he talked very cheerfully and told Madam Imbert that he hoped soon
to have the pleasure of meeting her at Jenkintown. He assured her that
he would soon be free and would then take vengeance on his enemies.

He said he intended to go to Texas and buy a ranche. The Rio Grande
country just suited him, and he expatiated at length on the beauty of
the country and the salubrity of its climate.

After a few hours passed in social converse they parted. Mrs. Maroney
went to visit a friend on Thirty-first street and Madam Imbert to do her
shopping. They agreed to meet at the Jersey City ferry at four o'clock.

Green followed Mrs. Maroney. She visited her friend, stopped some time
and then met Madam Imbert at the appointed place and time.

On the road to Philadelphia Mrs. Maroney spoke of her husband and said
he was very much pleased with the Madam, and thought her a very
fine-looking, intelligent woman, in fact just the person to help them;
but he was about to carry out a plan which he knew would be successful.
White was soon going to be released on bail and would then arrange
everything for him. In the meantime, she was to wait quietly and do
nothing, as he would shortly be with her.

On getting into Philadelphia they ordered their team and drove out to
Jenkintown. The same day White came to Maroney and said:

"Congratulate me, old fellow. Shanks has just brought me some letters
from my attorneys and I find that all has gone well. My affairs are in a
much better condition, and now, after a long and irksome confinement, I
am about to be liberated on bail. In two or three days, or by the end
of this week, at farthest, I shall be at liberty."

"I am delighted to hear of your good fortune," answered Maroney in a
hearty tone. "You must not forget me when you are out, but as soon as
you can arrange your own affairs, turn your attention to mine. I am
anxious to see the plan to entrap Chase at once set in operation. Won't
it be a good joke when McGibony nabs him and finds the money on his
person? Ha! ha! ha! what will the Adams Express say then? They will feel
rather sore over their pet, I reckon."

He laughed over the idea for some time, while a fiendish expression of
joy settled on his face.

"I'll attend to it as soon as possible," said White; "but you see I have
no money of my own that I can use at the present time. I would gladly
advance you the necessary amount if I could, but all my available cash
will have to go as security to my bondsmen. I believe you a thorough
good fellow, and will cheerfully do all in my power for you."

"I don't wish you to advance the money for me. I know you would if you
could; but you and I are about in the same fix. We have plenty of funds,
but can't use them at present. I believe I shall be able to raise the
money in some way before long. If the job works well with Chase I shall
be completely vindicated. Another thing, the suit against me will soon
come up, and my counsel says that I am sure to win it. I shall be the
only witness on the part of the defendant and shall have to swear that I
never took any of the money. This will be the truth, as a cent of money
never came wrongfully into my possession. It is a good thing they did
not know I had an interest in the livery stable, or they would surely
have seized that."

"I have a good lawyer," said White, "he has carried me through
successfully, and as soon as possible after I get out I will help you."

The next day Bangs disguised himself and called at the jail as White's
counsel. He had a long talk with him in his cell and then walked briskly
out in the manner of a lawyer with a large practice, whose moments are
precious; but lawyers have one object, while he had another. Bangs
wished to avoid the scrutiny of the prisoners, as there might be some of
them who knew him.

White came smilingly up to Maroney after Bangs left and said:

"My case is surely arranged, and I am off to-morrow."

"Are you, indeed?" exclaimed Maroney. "I am delighted to hear it;" but
his voice sank. It seemed as if he wanted White out, so that he could
help him, but was afraid to trust him. He turned and walked away, came
back, and again congratulated White. White assured him that he was going
in the morning. "So soon?" remarked Maroney; "well, I am happy to find
you are. I don't want to see any man kept in jail. My own case will soon
come up, and after I am cleared here, the trial in Montgomery will be a
perfect farce. I shall write to my wife and tell her how well you have
succeeded. Isn't it strange, White, that I have taken such a liking to
you? You are the right man for me. There is not a soul in this jail but
you whom I would trust." He walked into his cell and wrote a letter to
his wife. Several times he came out and conversed with White. He seemed
to have something on his mind which he wished to disclose, but lacked
the courage to do so. He finally backed down entirely, and concluded to
wait. He played several games of cards with White and the other
prisoners, and then conversed with Shanks, who came to remove some of
White's baggage. He found that White had taken a room on Bleeker street,
and the moving of his effects showed how near at hand was the moment of
his departure.

The next day was an eventful one, and clearly proved the soundness of my
theory. After breakfast Maroney took White's arm, and walked around the
hall several times with him, his manner plainly showing that he was very
much embarrassed. He finally drew him into a quiet corner opposite to
where the prisoners were congregated playing cards and amusing
themselves in various ways. "White," said Maroney, "I am going to
entrust to you my secret. I feel that I can trust you; I know I can. I
have watched you closely, and find that you are true as steel. Now
listen: I have invited you to take hold of my matters, and in order to
give you a clear understanding of my case, it becomes necessary for me
to divulge to you what at present is known only to my wife and myself.
It is useless for me to ask, but still I wish you to give me your solemn
promise to keep my secret inviolate."

"Oh, yes, I'll do that," said White, "but I have got a good deal of
business of my own to attend to, and if you think you can't trust me,
you had better keep it to yourself."

"No, no, nothing of the kind! I know I can trust you!" said Maroney,
"and you have given the promise. Now, White, who do you think stole the
fifty thousand dollars?"

"I am sure I don't know," replied White.

"Well, I did! I stole it from the company, and have been able to keep it
so far. If you will assist me, I shall continue to do so. Would you have
stolen it if you had been in my place?"

"Certainly," exclaimed White; "do you think I am a fool? I shall make a
big pile in my operation."

"Then," said Maroney, "if we only join our forces, we shall make some
one howl."

Neither spoke for some minutes. White acted as if the matter was a
common, every-day occurrence; but he thought: "He has broken the ice; I
shall soon hear it all."

Maroney was the first to break the silence. He said: "I first stole ten
thousand dollars, which was brought to my office on Sunday, by the
messenger from Atlanta. This package was intended for a party in
Columbus, Ga. It had been missent, and forwarded by mistake to Atlanta,
instead of to Macon, and from Atlanta to me in Montgomery. My duty was,
on receipt of the package, to immediately telegraph to Atlanta of its
arrival, and to send it off by the train that left that evening for
Columbus. I had no right to the package, and should have immediately
re-billed it and sent it off. I was certain that no one knew that it had
been missent. It had evidently found its way into the pouch through a
mistake, as it was not marked on the way-bill, or its presence known to
the messenger. I never thought I should be guilty of theft till the
time; but the moment I saw the package it flashed into my mind that if I
took it I would never be detected. The temptation was too strong to be
withstood. I yielded to it, and without any one's seeing me, dropped the
package under the counter. The messenger did not see it, and as his
way-bill checked up all right, soon left the office. I watched my chance
and put the packet of money into my coat-pocket and went home.

"You see, White, that was my first offense, and I felt rather
frightened. I felt sorry that I had yielded to the temptation, but could
not part with the money, it seemed so completely to have infatuated me.
I took it home and hid it, but did not tell my wife a word about it. In
a short time despatches were sent all around to the different agents to
find, if possible, where the package was. I received several of them,
but reported that I had not seen or heard anything of it. I was so
assured of the impossibility of my detection that I had lost all the
fears that at first assailed me, and was as cool as a cucumber.

"The General Superintendent came around with several detectives, but
they could not find the money. I was tried in many ways, but I never
flinched, and they finally had to give the matter up.

"In a short time I asked for leave of absence to make a visit to the
North. It was granted me, and I started off, with the ten thousand
dollars in my possession. I soon found that I was followed by a
detective, and I led him a wild-goose chase until I reached Richmond,
Va., where I gave him the slip, and he never knew where I went. I did
the same in the forty-thousand-dollar case. I gave them all the slip at
Chattanooga."

"No matter about that," said White; "if you are going to give me a
statement, give me a clear one, and not jumble everything together."

"Well, I gave the detective the slip at Richmond, and went to Winnsboro,
S. C. There I passed myself off as a cotton buyer, but had great
difficulty in making a purchase, as Robert Agnew, a prominent
cotton-broker, held all the cotton in the neighborhood, and did not care
to sell as he expected a rise in price every day. After some dickering I
induced him to sell me seven thousand five hundred dollars' worth, which
I paid for with the stolen funds of the company.

"I had the cotton shipped to R. G. Barnard, Charleston, S. C., to be
sold, proceeds to be remitted to me, in Montgomery. The cotton was sold
and the amount forwarded to me in two drafts on New York, one of which I
had cashed in that city, and the other in Montgomery. I lost quite a sum
by my speculation, as cotton did not rise, but fell. I was perfectly
contented to stand the loss, as the stolen money was exchanged. I bought
"Yankee Mary" with the two thousand five hundred dollars remaining, and
returned to Montgomery, after having successfully disposed of all the
stolen money.

"On my return I found everything quiet, and went on with my duties as
usual; but one day the Superintendent came to me and said the company
had concluded to change agents, and that I had better resign. I did so
at once, saying that I was just about going into business on my own
account. I must say that when I met the General Superintendent I did
not like his looks, as he seemed to suspect me. He made many enquiries
as to how I got my money, but was unable to ascertain anything.

"The Superintendent of the Southern Division asked me to take charge of
the office until my successor arrived, and I willingly consented. The
Superintendent had much suavity of manner, and it was hard for me to
tell whether he considered me guilty or not. I rather thought he
suspected me. When I found that my time with the company was to be so
short I determined to make a good haul, as I knew I could never get a
situation in the business again, for the Adams Express was the only
express company in the South. I began to look around to see how I could
best accomplish my purpose. I studied the character of the different
messengers, and thought Chase the best man to operate upon. I determined
to wait until I had a good heavy run out, and then put my plan in
operation. Chase was a good, clever fellow, but careless. I tried him in
several ways, and found that he could be "gulled" more easily than any
of the other messengers. I could not do anything on the runs in, as the
messengers checked the packages over to me, but on the runs out I
checked over to them, and, with a careless man like Chase, it would be
the simplest thing in the world to call off packages, and, as he checked
them off, for me to drop them behind the counter instead of into the
pouch."




_CHAPTER XXVI._


On the twenty-seventh of January I had a very heavy run in, and among
numerous other packages were four that attracted my attention; one for
Charleston, S. C., for two thousand five hundred dollars, and three for
Augusta, Geo., for thirty thousand, five thousand and two thousand five
hundred dollars respectively. Chase was going out in the morning, and
then was the time to act. I got an old trunk that was lying in the
office, and packed it full of different articles, among other things
four boxes of cigars. Early in the morning I was up and down at the
office. Chase soon came in, drew his safe over to the counter, and began
to check off the packages marked on the way-bill, as I called them off
and placed them in the pouch. If he had obeyed the rule of the company
he would have taken each package in his hand and placed it in the pouch,
but he carelessly allowed me to call off the amounts and place the
packages in the pouch. In this way, as he stood outside of the counter,
I was enabled to call off all the packages on the way-bill, but dropped
the four containing the forty thousand dollars under the counter amongst
a lot of waste paper I had placed there for the purpose. The way-bill
checked off all right; Chase said "O. K.," so I locked the pouch, handed
it to him, and he locked it up in his safe. He then went to breakfast,
leaving me alone in the office. I immediately picked up the packages,
distributed their contents into four piles of equal size, removed the
cigars from the boxes, and placed a pile of money in each. I then filled
the space above the money with cigars, nailed down the lid of the boxes,
placed them in the trunk, tied it up and directed it to W. A. Jackson,
Galveston, Texas. There was a wagon loading at the door. I had the box
immediately placed on it, and within an hour of the time I had taken the
money it was on its way down the Alabama river, for Mobile. The boat
started down the river at the same time that Chase left for Atlanta.
That is what I call sharp work. No one but me knew of the loss of the
packages.

[Illustration: "_As he stood outside of the counter, I was enabled to
call off all the packages on the way-bill, but dropped the four
containing the forty thousand dollars under the counter._"--Page 237.]

"Chase was in his car, perfectly at ease, but when he reached Atlanta he
was destined to receive a shock he would not soon forget. As soon as he
arrived there the loss was discovered, and the Assistant Superintendent
of the Southern Division, who happened to be in the Atlanta office,
immediately telegraphed to me for an explanation. I did not take the
trouble of answering the despatch, and he came on to Montgomery that
night to investigate. All I had to say was that I had checked the money
over to Chase, and they would have to look to him for an explanation.
Telegrams came thick and fast, but I was nerved up to pass through
anything, and left them unnoticed.

"When Chase returned to Montgomery he was greatly excited and appeared
much more guilty than I. The Assistant Superintendent was in the office
when he arrived. I received the pouch from Chase, checked off the
way-bill, found the packages all right, and throwing down the pouch,
placed the packages in the vault. I then returned and picked up the
pouch as if to look into it. I had my knife open, but concealed in my
coat sleeve. As I raised the pouch to look into it, I slipped the knife
into my hand and in a second cut two slits in the pouch and threw the
knife back up my sleeve. I immediately said to Mr. Hall, who stood
directly in front of me, 'Why, it's cut! How the messenger could carry
the pouch around, cut in this manner, and not discover it, is
astonishing!'

"The Assistant Superintendent examined the pouch and found it cut, as I
had stated. This was a great point in my favor, and the Assistant
Superintendent was at once convinced that I was innocent of any
participation in the robbery. No one suspected me after this until the
Vice-President and General Superintendent came. They looked at the
pouch, and one of them said, 'I understand this,' and they had the pouch
taken care of. This was the first thing that seemed to create suspicion
in the General Superintendent's mind. He had me arrested, but could not
prove any thing against me. My friends all stood by me, and I had to do
an immense amount of drinking. My wife one day asked me about the
robbery; I at first denied any knowledge of it, but she is smart and
does not easily give up. She kept at me and I finally concluded that the
best way to keep her still was to tell her all. So I owned up to her,
and then gave her some money and started her for the North. It is hard
for me to keep any thing entirely to myself, and especially hard to keep
any thing from my wife.

"I remained in Montgomery, but was not at all lonely, as I always had a
squad of friends around me. In fact I never knew before that I had so
many. I knew that the trunk was safe, but felt at times a little
apprehensive that some one might open it. Its contents were amply
sufficient to pay all charges on it in case it should never be claimed.

"After my arrest, I was taken before Justice Holtzclaw. At the
preliminary examination I was held in forty thousand dollars bail, but
at the final examination the company presented so weak a case that I
think I ought to have been discharged at once. The justice thought
differently, but reduced my bail to four thousand dollars, in which
amount I was bound over to appear for trial before the circuit court. I
easily procured bail, and was soon at liberty. I remained in Montgomery
after my release, keeping a sharp look out for detectives, as I felt
sure the company would have plenty of them on my track, but I could not
discover any. It was hard to believe they had none employed, as on the
ten thousand dollar case they had a small regiment of them; but none
were to be seen in Montgomery, and I concluded they must be looking for
the money in another direction. I had a slight mistrust of McGibony, but
soon proved to my entire satisfaction that he was not employed in the
case. Every thing went on smoothly, and I could discover nothing
suspicious going on around me. I at length determined to make an
excursion to several of the large Southern cities, to ascertain, if
possible, whether I would be followed. Before leaving, I wrote to the
agent of Jones's Express, at Galveston, assuming the name of W. A.
Jackson, and directed him to send my trunk to Natchez. I started out on
my trip and visited Atlanta, Chattanooga, Nashville and Memphis. I
scanned the passengers who came on board or left the trains, all the
guests who 'put up' at the various hotels where I stopped on my journey,
but could not discover a sign of a detective. By the time that I got to
Memphis I knew I was not followed, and so took the steamer 'John Walsh,'
intending to get off at Natchez, gain possession of my trunk, which must
have reached there, and go on down the river to New Orleans. When I
reached Natchez, I enquired of the agent of Jones's Express whether he
had a trunk for W. A. Jackson, shipped from Galveston, Texas. He
examined his book and said that he had not received such a trunk, but
that possibly it had been sent and detained in the New Orleans office. I
was now in a quandary; I was afraid to go to New Orleans and ask for the
trunk, as I knew the Adams and Jones's Express occupied the same office
in that city. Could it be possible that the company had suspicions of
the trunk and were holding it as a bait to draw me out? No! it was not
possible! Still, I did not care to go to the office and ask for the
trunk, as some one would be sure to know me, and my claiming a trunk as
W. A. Jackson would be proof positive to them that something was wrong
about it. They would seize and search it, and then my guilt would be
apparent. I finally determined to go to New Orleans, put up at the City
Hotel, and then carelessly drop into the office of the company and see
if I could discover the trunk lying around. I did so, and on coming into
the office was immediately recognized by the employes, some of whom were
glad to see me. I did not stay long; glanced around, saw the trunk was
not there, and returned to the hotel.

"I wanted to find whether the trunk had gone on to Natchez, so I wrote
a note, asking whether a trunk directed to W. A. Jackson, Natchez, was
in their possession or had been forwarded to its destination, and signed
it W. A. Jackson. I then walked out of the hotel, limping as if so lame
as to be scarcely able to walk, and met a <DW52> boy standing on the
corner. I hired him to take the note to the office for me and bring back
the answer. He soon returned with a note which politely informed me that
the trunk had been sent to Natchez. I immediately returned to Natchez,
found the trunk, signed the receipt, paid the charges and left for
Mobile _via_ New Orleans, and I tell you I was more than pleased when I
arrived there with my trunk.

"When I reached Montgomery a bevy of my friends came down to see me.
Porter, one of my best friends--a splendid fellow--was amongst them, and
as he was clerk of the hotel I had him order my baggage up. He had a
carriage for me and we drove to Patterson's, and then went over to the
hotel. In the morning I had him bring the old trunk into my room. I
opened it before them all, carelessly took a few cigars from each of the
boxes and gave to them to try. In this way their suspicions in regard to
the old trunk, if they had any, were entirely dispelled.

"Mrs. Maroney was still in New York. I remained for some time in
Montgomery, still suspecting that some one was on my track, but could
find nothing to confirm my suspicions. It was getting time for me to
make some preparation for my defense. I had formed a plan to overthrow
the testimony of the company by having a key made to fit their pouch,
introducing it at the trial and proving that outsiders might have keys
as well as the agents. I was desirous of having the key made at once. It
could not be made in Montgomery or at New Orleans, for, though there
were plenty of locksmiths, their work was not fine enough to suit me; so
I concluded to go to New York and have one made.

"I had some business to transact with my wife also, and wrote to her to
meet me at a certain date in Philadelphia. I came North, met my wife in
Philadelphia, where we stopped a day or two, and then started for New
York. As I stepped ashore from the ferry-boat I was arrested. Never
before in my life was I so dumbfounded. I can't tell you how they knew
the time I would arrive. The detectives in Philadelphia must have been
after me while I was there, and when I left for here they must have
telegraphed, and thus secured my arrest. They brought me here and I told
my wife to come and see me in the morning. I was too confused to say
anything and my brain was in a maze. I never dreamed of the possibility
of arrest in New York. I might have been prepared for it in Montgomery,
but did not think it possible that anything of the kind could happen
here. My wife spoke to me on the subject, but I was unable to do or say
anything. I make it a rule, when I am confused and can't collect my
thoughts, to say nothing until I am calm, when I plan what I had better
do.

"In the morning I decided that it was necessary for my wife to go to
Montgomery and bring the money North with her. I was in jail and might
need the money to procure bail, which I would like to do now. Then,
there was danger in leaving the money where it was secreted--in the old
trunk in the garret--as Floyd might want to clear the garret out, and I
had several times seen him sell unclaimed baggage. My old trunk might be
sold for a trifle and some one take it home and find it contained a
treasure.

"As soon as she could, Mrs. Maroney went to Montgomery for the money. I
had informed her where it was concealed, and told her to get it and
bring it North.

"The money was rather bulky, as although there were some large bills,
there were a great many fives, tens, twenties and a few one hundred
dollar notes. The whole of it made a large pile, but my wife proved a
good hand. She fooled them all, and concealed the money in her bustle.
It was a troublesome weight to travel with, and she was obliged to stop
at Augusta, Ga., to rest herself. She also spent a day with my brother
at Danielsville, who promised to come and see me. He came, and, as you
know, accomplished nothing.

"My wife has now got the money concealed in the cellar of Josh. Cox's
house. Cox is her brother-in-law, and from what she tells me of him is a
good-natured fellow, but pretty shrewd. Mrs. Cox is very smart. They
never leave the house entirely alone, one or the other of them always
keeping watch.

"That Madam Imbert is said by my wife to be a fine woman. I was much
pleased with her when she came here the other day. Mrs. Maroney managed
well with her and discovered that her husband is imprisoned in Missouri.
She also followed her in Philadelphia and found her changing money. My
wife is smart, she suddenly confronted her and the Madam admitted all.
A man comes to see her who exchanges money for her. My wife was about
arranging with her to have the express money exchanged, but you are
going out and I prefer to entrust my affairs to you. You see, White, I
know I can trust you. There is only one thing that troubles me about
Jenkintown: A fellow named De Forest is stopping there and is quite
attentive to my wife. I think he is an agent of the Adams Express; but
from what my wife says, she is smart enough for him and can rope him in
long before he can her.

"Now I have told you all, and hope you will act in the matter just as
your judgment dictates. The fact of the matter is, your knowledge of the
North is so great that you can act much better than I."

"Yes," said White, "I understand the ropes well, and you may depend upon
it I will handle them as well as I know how. I think that as soon as I
get clear myself--which may take four, five, or six days--and have
settled up with my lawyers--I don't like those fellows, but sometimes
you can't get along without them--I think I will try and get a key to
the pouch made; I can do so easily. Then I will go to Montgomery and see
Chase, study his movements on the cars and at the hotels. I can at the
same time arrange to get the girl, whom I intend to bring from here,
into the Exchange, and as soon as possible get her acquainted with
Chase. But see here, don't you think it best to get some of the stolen
money to use in this case?"

"Certainly," said Maroney, "My wife will give you all the money you
need. I will give you a letter to her."

"No," said White, "I don't want to have anything to do with women. Your
wife may be perfectly true to you, but if I come in I doubt very much
whether she takes any interest in me, unless it be to thwart my plans."

"Why not?" asked Maroney. "My wife should know and take an interest in
all my affairs. She will do all in her power for us, and she is so
shrewd that she will be able to help us very much."

"Well," said White, "that may be all true enough, but women are sure to
get strange notions. I don't like to deal with them; women seem
naturally suspicious. I don't want to treat your wife with injustice,
but at the same time if she has a finger in the pie, ten to one she will
suspect me of trying to get the whole pile and intending to clear out
with it."

"Don't you believe that for a moment," replied Maroney. "She knows I
have entire confidence in you, and that will be enough for her. You need
have no fears that she will interfere in the matter in any way. I trust
you, and my word is law to her. I would prefer to have you take all the
money; you can then select what you want for Chase, and try and work off
the balance in small amounts. This will be a delicate operation, as the
banks very likely marked some of the bills before they shipped them."

"Yes, there are a great many obstacles to be overcome in changing the
money, but I think I can manage to work it off in some way."




_CHAPTER XXVII._


"White, I will write a letter to my wife which will pave your way to
gaining her implicit confidence."

"How will you do that?" asked White.

"I will write to her informing her that you are coming, and that you
will identify yourself by presenting a letter from me."

"Yes, but suppose she won't give up the money? I could not go back
again, as some of the detectives might suspect me and take me into
custody."

"Oh, nothing of the sort will happen. I will write you a letter that
will surely get the money; come, we will see what we can do." And they
sat down at a table, where Maroney began to write.

In a short time he finished a letter, and read it to White. He wrote:


     "MY DEAREST WIFE: I have confided all to Mr. White. He will be
     liberated to-day or to-morrow. He has some business to attend to,
     which will detain him four or five days, when he will call on you
     in the guise of a book-peddler. Now, I say to you, trust implicitly
     in him! I have trusted him with my secret. He will take care of
     all. Give him everything you have in the packages. Take no writing
     from him, whatever. He requires something to work off on Chase, and
     wants to use some of the stuff I got in Montgomery. When he
     succeeds in this, Chase will be in my place. Then he will begin to
     exchange all I have; afterwards all will be easy. When I am at
     liberty, we can enjoy it in safety. I feel perfectly safe, and
     confident. Now, dearest, as I have before said, trust him
     implicitly, and all will be right.

                           Yours forever,                     NAT."


White approved of the letter. Maroney, therefore, sealed it up, directed
it, and gave it to Shanks, who was in the jail, to post. Of course the
dutiful young man would not fail to do so.

He then wrote the following letter of introduction and handed it to
White:


     "MY DEAREST WIFE: This is the book-peddler. You will want to buy
     books from him. Buy what you want. Give him the packages for me. He
     is honest. All is well.

                                                              NAT."


White scanned its contents, and said: "I suppose this is sufficient, but
the question still remains: will she obey it? I will do the best I can,
but I have little faith in women."

"Oh, now!" said Maroney, "don't make me feel down-hearted. I have done
the best I can, and I know she will obey me."

"Very well," replied White, "I will go as soon as possible--in a week,
more or less; as soon as I can possibly arrange my own affairs. On my
arrival in Jenkintown I will write to you at once and let you know how I
am received."

"Agreed; I have trusted you, and my wife must trust you."

Shanks had several commissions to attend to. He first came to my room
in the hotel and handed me Maroney's letter to his wife. I opened and
read the letter, and exclaimed. "Now the battle is ours! Victory is
almost within our grasp." I saw the Vice-President and read the letter
to him. He was highly delighted and said he could now see the wisdom of
all my manoeuvres.

The following day White was released from his long confinement. It must
be admitted that his duties were extremely arduous, but such is often
the fate of a detective. I have sometimes had my men in prison for a
longer time than this, and they have often failed to accomplish any
thing, being obliged to give up without discovering what they were
looking for. White remained in New York attending to his _own_ business
after his release. He called once or twice on Maroney to show that he
had not forgotten him, and to assure him that he would soon get a
pouch-key made. This was easily accomplished, as all he had to do was to
go the Express Office, get a key, file it up a little to make it look
bright and new, and show it to Maroney as an earnest of his intentions
in regard to Chase.

We will now leave the parties in New York and return to Jenkintown. Very
little had taken place here and the various parties in whom we have an
interest were conducting themselves much as usual. Mrs. Maroney and
Madam Imbert went to Philadelphia on the same day that White was
liberated. They spent most of the day in the city and came out on the
cars in the evening. De Forest met them and drove them to Stemples's in
his buggy. After tea Madam Imbert went down to Cox's and strolled up to
the post office with Mrs. Maroney. Mrs. Maroney received a letter which
she opened. She said it was from Nat. She began to read it as they
walked along. As she read, Madam Imbert noticed that all color left her
face, and she became white as wax. She folded up the letter and leaned
heavily on the Madam's arm for support.

"What's the matter? are you sick?" she anxiously enquired.

"No; but I have received so strange a letter; walk along with me; I am
very weak; I will tell you its contents in a few minutes."

She did not go in the direction of Cox's, but led the way to the garden.
Here the two women took seats. She read the letter over again and then
handed it to Madam Imbert. "Read it," she said. The Madam did so.
Neither spoke for some time. "What do you think of it?" she at length
asked. "I think it a little strange, but at the same time have no doubt
but that it is all right. Your husband is of course the best judge in
this matter, and must have good reasons for taking the step. He has full
confidence in White; has been locked up with him for several months; has
seen him day and night, and doubtless has thoroughly studied his
character. White is almost like his wife, and he knows what he is doing
when he consents to trust him so far."

Mrs. Maroney was rapidly getting better and said, angrily, "No, I will
never give him the money in this way! it is all nonsense! 'What do I
know about White?' This is asking too much of me! Why did he not write
and consult me on the subject? He simply says, 'White is out of jail
now; give him the money!' and gives me no chance to speak on the
subject. Suppose White gets the money; how do I know but that he will
run away with it and leave us to suffer without getting any of the
benefit? Madam Imbert I must tell you all: you see that in this letter
Nat. does not mention money, but he means money. As you are now the only
one I can trust, I will talk plainly to you. My husband took the forty
thousand dollars from the Express Company, and also ten thousand dollars
previously. Now all is out! When he was thrown into prison in New York
he sent me for the money which he had concealed in Montgomery, and I
brought it here, and have it hidden in Josh.'s cellar. Now what am I to
do? If I give it to this man White, I shall probably never see it again;
in fact I am sure I never shall."

"You are mistaken, I think," said Madam Imbert; "have confidence!"

"_Confidence!_ It would be my best plan to run away myself!"--she was
going on still further, but Madam Imbert stopped her.

"Don't say any thing more at present, my dear Mrs. Maroney. You are too
excited to talk calmly; let the matter rest until morning."

They dropped the subject for the time, and as Mrs. Maroney expressed a
desire for a little brandy to calm her nerves, went down to Cox's. Mrs.
Maroney offered some brandy to the Madam, which she politely declined to
take, but this did not in the least abash her, for she gulped down
enough to stagger an old toper. Josh. was not at home, and so very
little was said.

Mrs. Cox asked her if she had received a letter from Nat.

"Yes," she answered in a snappish tone, and said no more.

Madam Imbert had accomplished all she desired for that day, and so left
Mrs. Maroney to herself. In the morning Mrs. Maroney sent Flora to her,
with a request that she would accompany her to Philadelphia. Madam
Imbert sent word that she would be happy to go and would come to Cox's
immediately.

De Forest met Flora and commenced playing with her.

"I must go right home," said she, "as ma is going to Philadelphia and
sent me with a message to Madam Imbert, asking her to go too. She said
she would, and is coming down to the house, so I must hurry home."

"What a fool I am," thought De Forest, "I would rather have her go with
me."

So he went to Cox's with Flora to offer his services. Mrs. Maroney
appeared troubled and excited. He knew that he never made progress with
her when she was in a moody state, so he timidly said that he was going
to Philadelphia and asked her to go along. She said, "No!" very harshly,
and he immediately vanished.

She started out and met Madam Imbert on the way down.

"Come back with me, I want to hire Stemples's team," she said.

Stemples soon had his team ready for them, and they started.

"I didn't want any one with me but you, Madam Imbert, as I am much
troubled and need your advice. I want to consult a lawyer, but don't
know how to go about it. There is a lawyer in Philadelphia, a good man,
in fact the same one my husband had at New York for consultation, and I
think I shall ask his advice."

"I would not do it, if I were in your place," advised Madam Imbert. "If
a lawyer once gets hold of the facts, he is much more likely to get all
the money than White."

"That is the trouble. Last night after you left, Josh. came in and we
talked the matter over. You know Josh. and the opinion I have of him,
but with all his faults he is shrewd. His wife and he held the same
opinion: that it would never do to trust White with the money, and Josh.
was in favor of changing its hiding place. I did not tell them that I
had told you all, but I intend to do so. I informed them that I was
going to the city to consult a lawyer, but they were both against me,
and now you are opposed to me and I don't know what to do, or what I am
doing. I am almost crazy!"

They drove up to a tavern on the way and she took some brandy, which
seemed to give her more courage.

When they reached the city Madam Imbert wished to report to Bangs, but
found it almost impossible to get away from Mrs. Maroney, who had
concluded not to ask the advice of a lawyer. They went into Mitchell's
and Madam Imbert managed to get away a few moments and reported to
Bangs.

She had not been with him ten minutes before Rivers, who was shadowing
Mrs. Maroney, came in and reported that she seemed very uneasy and had
been out on the street several times, glancing anxiously around. Madam
Imbert at once hurried back to Mitchell's.

"Where were you?" demanded Mrs. Maroney. "I am suspicious of you all!"

Madam Imbert drew herself up with an air of offended dignity which spoke
more than words.

"I am sorry I have offended you!" said Mrs. Maroney quickly. "Please
forgive me! I am so nervous that for a time I mistrusted even you and
thought you had gone for a policeman or a detective; let's have dinner
and go."

When they were on the return journey, Mrs. Maroney said:

"I feel much better on the road with you alone than when in the city. I
want to talk continually, and you are the only one to whom I dare talk.
However excited or miserable I may feel, companionship with you always
makes me feel happy and contented."

At the various taverns they passed on the road Mrs. Maroney always
stopped and invoked the aid of stimulants to cheer her up. She suddenly
turned to Madam Imbert and asked:

"Would you be willing to run away with me? We could go down into
Louisiana, where we are not known, buy a small place in some out of the
way town and live secluded for four or five years, until our existence
was forgotten, and then make our appearance once more in the fashionable
world, with plenty of money to maintain our position; or we might go to
New York and from there to England and the continent."

"Yes, we could do all that if we had the money," said the Madam; "but
you forget that at this time we cannot use it."

"You have plenty of money of your own and you might let me stop with
you for three or four years, as by that time we could use the express'
money without any risk."

"Yes, I would gladly keep you for years if that is all you want."

"When do you expect the man who exchanges your money? Could you not get
him here at once? Then we could go."

"I could write to him," replied the Madam, "and he would come at once,
provided my letter reached him, but sometimes I have to wait two or
three months after writing for him before he makes his appearance. He
travels a good deal, and comes to the place where he has his letters
directed only once in a while. He is a strange man, but very honest. I
will write to him to-night, if you say so, so that we can soon hear from
him and get him here."

They arrived in Jenkintown without arranging any decided plan. After tea
they again met. Mrs. Maroney said that she was so fatigued that even her
brain was so weary that she felt completely broken down, and must retire
early. Rivers arrived from Philadelphia on the cars long before the
women, and went down to see Josh. Josh. had remained at home all day
with his wife, and was glad of the excuse Rivers's coming gave him to go
down to Stemples's. He was moody and would not talk much. Even Barclay
could not get a word out of him. He was willing to drink, but spoke only
in monosyllables. At nine o'clock he went home. Rivers got into Cox's
yard and watched the house for about two hours, when finding all quiet,
he returned home and went to bed.




_CHAPTER XXVIII._


Time rolled on, and the third day after the trip to Philadelphia, Madam
Imbert was with Mrs. Maroney, who talked incessantly about giving up the
money. She alluded to Cox's idea of the question. He said that he would
never give White the money; that he did not know the man, and that he
would trust no one with forty thousand dollars. He declared that he had
now got the money, and that he was going to keep it. She insisted that
they should let her arrange the matter to suit herself. Mrs. Cox was,
like her husband, bound that White should not get the money. Every thing
appeared against White's chances of getting the money. At this time they
were seated in a secluded part of the garden. Mrs. Maroney glanced
around, saw that no one was near, and then said: "Madam Imbert, you are
accustomed to attend to affairs like mine; won't you take the money,
claim it as your own, and go with me to the West? You could then find
your friend, and he would be willing to exchange the money for two or
three thousand dollars--wouldn't he? I want to get away from here; my
sister is against me, and Josh. treats me as if he was my equal, or
superior."

Madam Imbert saw she must act very prudently. Mrs. Maroney must be
quietly dealt with. She wished her to give the money to White, as if she
took the money she would have to be a witness in the case. She wished
to avoid this, but if she could not succeed in making her turn the
money over to White, as a last resort she would take possession of it
herself. She therefore replied:

"No, I don't like to take it; I have enough of my own to look after. If
my poor husband were only out of jail he would get it changed for you in
short order. I don't want any more money about me at present; it would
go hard with me if I were discovered with the money on my person."

"There is little danger of that," said Mrs. Maroney. "I carried it all
the way from Montgomery and was not much inconvenienced by it; you must
help me."

"Mrs. Maroney, if I were in your place, I would do exactly as my husband
wished."

"Yes, yes," said she, "but who knows White? I never saw him."

"We will let the matter drop for the present. I will do all I can to
assist you. I wrote to my friend last night, and he will send an answer
directed to you in my care."

Mrs. Maroney was greatly pleased and went home in high spirits. On the
following day she got a letter from Maroney; he had seen White, and he
would be in Jenkintown in a day or two. He said White was opposed to
dealing with women, and if he did not get the money on his first visit,
he would never come back. He finished by entreating her to give up all
cheerfully, remembering that it was for the good of both. This letter
arrived in the evening, and Mrs. Maroney, after perusing it, told Madam
Imbert that she had made up her mind never to give up the money. "I will
burn it before I will give it to White," said she. Madam Imbert was
rather startled at this avowal, but on a second consideration was
convinced that it was a bit of braggadocio, and that there was not the
slightest fear of her carrying such a threat into execution. She found
Mrs. Maroney in too unreasonable a state of mind to accomplish any thing
with her that day, and she therefore returned to Stemples's.

The next day was decidedly a breezy day for all. Early in the morning
Mrs. Maroney sent for Madam Imbert, who at once joined her at Cox's.
Mrs. Maroney met her at the door.

"O, Madam Imbert, I am so glad you have come! Josh. has been acting in a
most independent manner. I almost believe he is right, in protesting
that he will not allow the money to go."

Madam Imbert appealed to Mrs. Maroney's sense of duty. She depicted in
glowing terms the happiness of the wife who looks only to her husband's
interests, and makes sacrifices in his behalf. She drew a touching
picture of Maroney's sufferings in jail, and tried to impress upon her
the conviction that it was more than probable that he had taken the
money so as to be able to place her in a situation where she could
command any luxury. What did Cox know about suffering, or of the steps
her husband found it necessary to take in order to effect his release?
When Maroney took the forty thousand dollars, he had to ship it at once
down the Alabama river, and now they could see how wise he was in so
doing. He had displayed consummate ability in every movement he had so
far made, and was it at all likely that he had lost his cunning? "He
loves you," said she, "and would do any thing for you. Your duty as a
wife is plain and simple; do as your husband wishes you to do."

Madam Imbert's reasoning was unanswerable, but to Mrs. Maroney it was a
bitter pill. Without saying a word, she led the way into the house,
where they met Cox, just coming up from the cellar. She had informed
both Josh. and his wife that she had made a confidante of Madam Imbert,
and they thought she had done wisely.

"Josh., have you been moving the money?" demanded she.

"No!" he replied, in rather a surly tone. Then turning to Madam Imbert,
he said: "You must have the same opinion of this matter as I! I think it
folly to give the money up to White. No one knows about this would-be
book peddler, and I will not give up the money to such a man. Let him
come to me and I will talk to him." Josh. strutted about the room with
the air of a six-footer. "I'll have it out of him in short order. I'll
show him he can't pull the wool over my eyes, as he seems to have done
over Nat.'s. I'll be d----d if I can understand it."

Cox was ably seconded in his opinion by his wife.

Mrs. Maroney had very little to say.

Madam Imbert said that, in her opinion, Josh. was entirely wrong.
Maroney knew better than they what was for his interest. As for her, if
her husband was to tell her to give up all she had, she would cheerfully
do so, as she knew he was best able to judge what was for the benefit of
them both.

The day passed in a continual wrangle. Madam Imbert could hardly get
away from Mrs. Maroney long enough to eat her meals. Mrs. Maroney and
Josh. dealt exclusively in brandy. Toward evening Josh. proclaimed his
intention of "raising" the money, and starting with it that night for
the West. He would hide himself until Maroney got out of jail, when he
would return and deliver the money over to him. Josh. was sublime in the
purity and philanthropy of his motives. He did not want a cent of the
money; not he! but he could not consent to see his brother-in-law
swindled while he stood by and calmly looked on, without making an
effort in his behalf. No! this he could not do. To his own serious
inconvenience, he would voluntarily tear himself from his family, impose
upon himself the task of becoming the watch-dog of Nat.'s treasure, and
for a time lose himself in the wilderness of the West. Madam Imbert
thought _his_ would be a clear case of "Though lost to sight, to memory
_dear_," but did not say so.

Mrs. Maroney rather took the wind out of his sails by saying: "Don't you
dare to 'raise' the money until I tell you to! I am in no hurry to have
it moved; the cellar has proved a safe hiding place so far, and I see no
reason why it should not so remain. You will please remember that it
belongs to Nat. and me. I am able to take care of it, so you may just
let it alone."

Josh. said no more, but mentally washing his hands of the whole
transaction, started for Stemples's. He found Rivers and Barclay there,
but said nothing about what had happened, further than that he was
having trouble at home.

In the evening Mrs. Maroney received a letter from her husband, stating
that the book-peddler would call the next day.

The next day was to be an eventful one for me. By noon I should know the
fate of my enterprise. I had no doubts about what the results would be,
but I should then have the proofs in hand to show my employers that the
confidence they had bestowed upon me had not been misplaced; that the
theory I had advanced and worked upon was the correct one; that my
profession, which had been dragged down by unprincipled adventurers
until the term "detective" was synonymous with rogue, was, when properly
attended to and honestly conducted, one of the most useful and
indispensable adjuncts to the preservation of the lives and property of
the people. The Divine administers consolation to the soul; the
physician strives to relieve the pains of the body; while the detective
cleanses society from its impurities, makes crime hideous by dragging it
to light, when it would otherwise thrive in darkness, and generally
improves mankind by proving that wrong acts, no matter how skilfully
covered up, are sure to be found out, and their perpetrators punished.
The great preventive of crime, is the fear of detection.

There are quacks in other professions as well as in mine, and people
should lay the blame where it belongs, upon the quacks, and not upon the
profession.

In the evening I received a letter from Madam Imbert, telling me of the
difficulties in the way of White's receiving the money. She was full of
hope, and said she thought she could manage to make Mrs. Maroney give up
the money; but if all else failed she would take the money herself. It
was often offered to her by Mrs. Maroney, and Josh. had said he had no
objections to her receiving it. She would make arrangements so that if
White did not get the money, she would. The money would be in
Philadelphia the next evening if she had to walk in with it herself.

The recovery of forty or fifty thousand dollars, to-day, is considered a
small operation; but in 1859, before the war, the amount was looked upon
as perfectly enormous.

I showed Madam Imbert's letter to the Vice-President. He was greatly
pleased to find success so near at hand, and agreed to make a little
trip with me in the morning.

White was with me, in Philadelphia, and I made all my arrangements for
the following day's work. I was up bright and early the next morning.
The sun rose in a cloudless sky, and the weather promised to be fine. It
would most likely be excessively hot by noon, but the morning was fresh
and balmy. White, in his character of a book-peddler, was to go into
Jenkintown on foot, so as to give the impression that he had walked out
from the city. Shanks was to drive him to within about two miles of
Jenkintown, where White was to get out and walk in, while Shanks would
drive back and wait for him at the Rising Sun, a tavern on the road. The
Vice-President and I drove over from Chestnut Hill, put up our team at
the Rising Sun, and took up our position as near the probable scene of
action as was prudent.

Early in the morning, just as day began to dawn, Rivers came in and
reported the condition of affairs. He had watched Cox's through the
night, but aside from high words there had been no demonstration. I sent
a note to Madam Imbert by him, with instructions to deliver it to her
as soon as she was up. I told her to be sure and do as she said she
would--get the money to-day at all hazards--by storm, if necessary, as I
did not like to trust Cox another day.




_CHAPTER XXIX._


At Jenkintown there was no lull in the fight. The battle was going on
gloriously. Breakfast at Cox's was a meagre meal, even the children were
neglected, as all the grown portion of the household were on the lookout
for the book-peddler.

"Sister Ann! Sister Ann! do you see any one coming?" was the cry.

Every once in a while one of them would go to the gate and look
anxiously down the road, in the direction of Philadelphia. Mrs. Maroney
was impatiently awaiting the arrival of Madam Imbert. She did not have
to wait long, as the Madam came down immediately after breakfast. Her
commanding figure and decided expression made her appear like a general
giving orders. She was perfectly calm, while all the rest were so
excited that they did not know what to do or say. She controlled the
position.

Mrs. Maroney had not slept any and was still unable to decide upon her
action. She strolled out with the Madam a short distance, thinking to
find relief in a quiet chat. She said she was filled with doubts and
fears. She was afraid to trust Josh., and he might go off at any moment
with the packages. Madam Imbert told her that there was only one thing
to be done, and that was to give up the packages to White as her husband
ordered.

"Are you sure," said she, "that the letter is in your husband's
handwriting?"

Mrs. Maroney looked at her in a startled manner and pulled the letter
from its hiding place in the bosom of her dress. She scanned it over
carefully and said:

"Yes, it is Nat.'s writing."

"Then there is nothing to do but to give it up. If my husband ordered me
I would gladly give up all I have in this world to please him."

They remained away from the house for some time, and when they returned
it was nearly noon. On looking down the street they discovered a
book-peddler slowly toiling along from the direction of Philadelphia and
evidently bending his steps towards Cox's. As Mrs. Maroney saw him
coming along sweltering in the sun and bending under the weight of his
load of books, she gave an involuntary start, and Madam Imbert, on whose
arm she leaned, felt that she was trembling with excitement. Cox stood
beside his wife in the door-way with his teeth clinched. His wife looked
unutterable things, but neither uttered a word.

Madam Imbert and Mrs. Maroney went into the yard and stood leaning over
the gate, watching the peddler, who was rapidly drawing near. He arrived
at the gate at the appointed time.

"Do you wish to buy any books?" asked he, at the same time handing Mrs.
Maroney a novel to look at, which he opened so as to disclose a note. He
spoke to her in a low tone and said:

"I am from prison," then glancing at the note, "I think that is for
you."

She took the novel, and, holding it open as if reading it, scanned the
contents of the note:


     "MY DEAREST WIFE: This is the book-peddler. You will want to buy
     books from him. Buy what you want. Give him the packages for me. He
     is honest.

                           "All is well.                        NAT."


When she had read the note she stood looking at it, apparently unable to
speak. Madam Imbert looked at her, and as she began to fear that some of
the neighbors might notice the long stay of the peddler, said:

"Have you no message for the man? Time is precious!"

"Yes," she answered, looking up as from a trance.

Madam Imbert spoke in a low tone:

"Tell him to meet you down the lane."

"Yes," said she, "I will meet you down the lane at two o'clock and take
some books from you."

The peddler left a few novels and walked off. Mrs. Maroney and Madam
Imbert walked into the house. Now was the time for Madam Imbert to show
her power.

"Come, Mrs. Maroney, be quick! You must act at once! Get the money for
the book-peddler, quick!"

Mrs. Maroney seemed to act mechanically. Madam Imbert's strong will had
asserted a power over her that she could not resist. They went into the
cellar accompanied by Josh. and his wife.

"Dig the money up," commanded Mrs. Maroney still in the same mechanical
tone.

Josh. hesitated.

"Give me the spade!" said Madam Imbert. "Show me where the money is
secreted!"

Then, turning to Josh. and his wife, she said:

"_You are fools!_ You would not only ruin Mrs. Maroney, but yourselves.
Maroney knows best what is for his interest."

Mrs. Maroney pointed out the spot where the money was buried. The Madam
struck the spade into the ground.

"Stop, I'll do it!" said Josh.; "if you are bound to make a beggar of
yourself it is no fault of mine."

The money was about eighteen inches under the level of the cellar floor,
wrapped up in a piece of oil skin. It was soon unearthed and taken up
stairs. Mrs. Maroney said:

"I will go and get the buggy, or--no! Josh.! you go to Stemples's and
get his team; tell him it is for me."

Josh., without waiting to fill up the hole, started off. Madam Imbert
wrapped the money in two newspapers, and when Josh. came with the team,
which he soon did, put it into the front part of the buggy and covered
it with the apron, and, getting in with Mrs. Maroney, drove down the
lane.

White, when he received the message from Mrs. Maroney, returned to the
Rising Sun and reported to me. We (the Vice-President and I) secreted
ourselves under some magnolias growing close by the lane, and near where
the meeting would take place. At the appointed time the book-peddler was
seen by us coming up the lane, and at almost the same moment a buggy
came in sight going down. It was a moment of breathless interest to
both of us.

They met almost directly opposite to where we were concealed. Madam
Imbert said: "Let us have some books!" The peddler lifted his satchel
into the buggy; the Madam hurriedly emptied it of its contents, and
holding it open jammed the bundle of money into it and handed it back to
the peddler. Not a word more was said. Madam Imbert turned the team
around and started the horses on a fast trot toward Jenkintown, while
the peddler sweltered along under the broiling sun in the direction of
the tavern.

[Illustration: "_The peddler lifted his satchel into the buggy; the
Madam hurriedly emptied it of its contents, and holding it open, jammed
the bundle of money into it, and handed it back to the peddler._"--Page
268.]

Madam Imbert drove up to Stemples's, took the books, which were wrapped
in papers, to her room, and invited Mrs. Maroney up to take some brandy.

Mrs. Maroney was in a passive state, and did everything Madam Imbert
told her to do, as if powerless to resist. She remained for some time
with Madam Imbert, but finally said, in a pitiful tone: "Well, I believe
I am sick. This excitement has nearly killed me."

Madam Imbert advised her to lie down, and accompanied her to Cox's.
Josh. had gone out with Rivers, and Mrs. Cox refused to be seen. Madam
Imbert administered an opiate to Mrs. Maroney, and then returned to the
tavern. Toward evening she hired Stemples's team and drove into
Philadelphia.

The Vice-President and I remained concealed until the two women were
well out of sight, when we overtook White, who was slowly toiling down
the road. I received the satchel containing the money from him. From the
time he received the money until he handed it over to me, I had had
my eye on him--not exactly because I did not trust him, but I thought it
wrong to lead the poor fellow into temptation.

We went to the Rising Sun, where we took dinner, but did not mention the
subject which was uppermost in our minds. After dinner we drove into the
city and placed the money in the vaults of the Express Company.

The Vice-President at once telegraphed to the President of the company
to come from New York, as he did not wish to count the money until he
was present.

In the evening Madam Imbert arrived at the hotel, and finding I was in
consultation with the Vice-President, sent word in that she would like
to see me. When I came to her she eagerly asked: "Is the money all
right?"

"All right," I answered. When she heard this her strength seemed
suddenly to leave her, and she nearly fainted. The victory was complete,
but her faculties had been strained to the utmost in accomplishing it,
and she felt completely exhausted. She had the proud satisfaction of
knowing that to a woman belonged the honors of the day.

The President arrived on the third of August, and we met at the Lapier
House, where we counted the money. The package proved to contain
thirty-nine thousand five hundred and fifteen dollars--within four
hundred and eighty-five dollars of the amount last stolen.

The officers of the Adams Express Company were much pleased at my
success, and perfectly satisfied with everything. The money had been
recovered, and the case had come to a stand-still.

I held a consultation with the President and Vice-President, and asked
them if they had any further orders for me. The President said I had
better finish the operation, and not give up until Maroney had been
convicted and placed in the Penitentiary. I had done them invaluable
service so far, but it still remained to "cap the climax" by bringing
the guilty party to justice. This I assured him would soon be
accomplished, and I left to give the necessary orders to my detectives.

I told Madam Imbert to return to Jenkintown, and ordered Rivers and Miss
Johnson also to remain as before.

The Vice-President also told De Forest to remain in Jenkintown for the
present. Green was to continue in Philadelphia. Roch, who had been sent
back to Montgomery, was to await orders there, as was also Porter. White
was to attend to Maroney, while Bangs was to continue in Philadelphia in
charge of all.




_CHAPTER XXX._


On the fifteenth of August, White called on Maroney in Eldridge street
jail. He detailed what had transpired at Jenkintown, and told Maroney
that he had the money hid in a safe place in Philadelphia. This was
undoubtedly the truth, as the money was safe in the vaults of the Adams
Express. I deemed it best to curtail expenses as soon as possible, and
instructed White to impress upon Maroney that Jenkintown was not a safe
place for his wife, and that she had better leave there. He was to
endeavor to get Maroney to send her to the west, and to Chicago, if
possible. He told Maroney that he was afraid some of the express men
were watching his wife, and if he did not look out she might be induced
to "blow" on him and tell all. He dwelt on his repugnance to being mixed
up with women with such effect that Maroney was convinced that she had
better go to some other part of the country, and so wrote to her at
once. He told her she had better go west. She was so near the
headquarters of the company that he feared they might find her out, and
make trouble for her. He hinted that he was not entirely satisfied with
De Forest, and wished her to go as soon as possible. White said he was
having the key to the pouch made, and would be able to show it to him in
a day or two. He did not wish any one in the jail to see him with the
key, and wished Maroney to be careful that no prisoners were in their
neighborhood when he disclosed it. When he did bring the key Maroney
examined it closely and expressed himself well pleased with it.

The day set for the trial of the suit in New York was near at hand, and
Maroney would have to prove that he had not taken the fifty thousand
dollars. He did not much care how the suit went, as he was confident he
would be acquitted at his criminal trial in Montgomery. When the suit
came off, we managed to get a judgment against him for the fifty
thousand dollars in such a manner that it was not necessary to let him
know that the money had been recovered, or that White was working
against him. He was of course the principal witness in his own behalf,
and if wholesale perjury could have saved him he would have been
acquitted beyond a doubt.

The day after the trial White called on him and he laughed heartily at
the judgment which had been obtained against him.

"Wait till I get to Montgomery," he said, "and then they will find that
their judgment does not amount to shucks. White, I wish you would settle
up my matters as soon as possible."

"I am going to Charleston this evening to see if I can't pass some of
the money, and must hurry off and pack my satchel, as the train leaves
at four. Good-by for a time; I will write and let you know how I
succeed," said White, as he prepared to leave.

"I know you will succeed," remarked Maroney, and White hurriedly walked
out of jail. This was all done to blind Maroney as to White's real
character. There was no necessity of White's leaving the city to
accomplish his purpose. All he had to do was to write letters and send
them to the agents of the Adams Express at the different points where
Maroney supposed him to be, and they would mail them to Maroney. He
pretended that he was having great trouble in trying to exchange the
money, and wrote that he would be in New York in a few days. At the end
of a week he walked down to the jail. He met Maroney with a troubled
look on his face, and said that he had been frightened away from
Charleston after he had exchanged about five hundred dollars. He was
doing very well when he found the detectives were close after him, and
he had to leave without his carpet bag.

"It is up-hill work, Maroney, trying to exchange this money. The Adams
Express are keeping a sharp lookout every where, and I have had a number
of detectives on my track. I have no money of my own and need all of
yours. So far I have exchanged only enough to get me to Montgomery, and
to pay the girl for stuffing the Express money into Chase's pocket."

Maroney gave White what money he had, and told him to go on and fix
Chase as soon as possible. Mrs. Maroney had all the money, so that we
had to foot all White's bills. The company had already been at heavy
expense, and I was desirous of stopping all unavoidable expenditures.
White remained in Philadelphia or New York, as the case might be,
performing on paper a journey through the South. Maroney received
letters from him from Augusta, Ga., New Orleans, Mobile and Montgomery.
He seemed to meet with many adventures and reverses, but was slowly and
surely accomplishing his mission. He had the girl in Montgomery, and she
was rapidly winning her way to the innermost recesses of Chase's heart.
In a couple of days came another letter. Chase was captivated, and had
so far worked on the confiding, innocent nature of the girl as to
prevail on her to consent to let him into her room that night. She had
the money to put into Chase's pocket, and all was going well. Maroney
could not sleep, so anxiously did he look forward for the coming of the
next letter; he paced his cell all night. What would have been his
feelings if he could have looked through about a mile of brick and
mortar to where White was snoring in bed?

The next day no letter came. He grew almost frantic, and was so
irritable and excited that his fellow prisoners wondered what had come
over him. The following day the anxiously expected letter arrived. He
hastily broke it open and found that the faithful White had been true to
his trust. Chase had gone into the girl's room, McGibony had seized him
as he came out, a search was instituted and the stolen money and a pouch
key had been discovered in his pocket.

"Hurrah!" said Maroney, "I am all right now! Boys, here is five dollars,
the last cent I have! We will make a jolly day of it."

We will now return to our friends in Jenkintown. It took some time for
Maroney to impress upon his wife the necessity of her going West. She
had little money, for though she had pocketed the proceeds of the sale
of her husband's livery stable, and other effects, in Montgomery, her
expenses had been heavy, and the money had dwindled away until she was
nearly penniless.

One day Mrs. Maroney said to Madam Imbert: "Wouldn't you like to go out
west somewhere and settle down for a while?"

"It makes no difference to me where I go," she replied, "I have to see
the gentleman who exchanges my money for me, once in a while; but no
matter where I go, he is sure to come to me when I send for him. Why
would it not be a good plan to go to some place in the South? Swansboro,
N. C., is a good place."

"Yes," remarked Mrs. Maroney, "but it is so dull!"

"What do you say to Jackson, Mississippi? It is a beautiful place."

"No, we don't want to go South now, it is altogether too warm. Were you
ever in Chicago, Madam Imbert?"

"No; but it is a good place to summer in, I understand."

"Well, let's go there; will you?"

"Yes, certainly, if you wish," said Madam Imbert; and they at once began
to arrange for their departure. It was decided that Madam Imbert should
go ahead to Chicago, and see if she could rent a furnished house for
them. She started off, and, as a matter of course, easily accomplished
her purpose.

I had a house in Chicago, where I lodged my female detectives, and as I
had only two in the city at the time, I easily found them a
boarding-house, and turned the house over to Madam Imbert. The servants
were well trained, and understood their business thoroughly. Everything
being arranged, Madam Imbert wrote to Mrs. Maroney and Miss Johnson,
telling them to come on. Two weeks after, Mrs. Maroney, Miss Johnson,
and Flora arrived in Chicago, and took up their quarters with Madam
Imbert.

It was necessary to have a young man to run their errands, and Shanks
was promptly furnished them. White did not need his services any longer,
as he was able to run his own errands.

Business was crowding fast, and the time set for Maroney's trial at
Montgomery was drawing near. The Governor of Alabama requested the
Governor of New York to deliver Maroney for trial in Montgomery, which
request was immediately acceded to.

I sent Maroney South in charge of an officer from Philadelphia, of
course "shadowed" by my own men.

This was the last time that Roch was on duty in this case. He had done
good service already in its early stages, and might be of service again.

The Vice-President accompanied the parties.

When they arrived in Montgomery, Maroney was not met and escorted to the
Exchange by a bevy of admiring friends. On the contrary, he was led to
jail. Hope never forsook him. He received letters from White, who said
all was going well, and he expected to get the funds exchanged soon.
Maroney wrote in reply that he hoped he would hurry up, as he wished to
give a part of the money to his lawyer in New York. The lawyer was
evidently expecting to reap a rich harvest at the company's expense.
Little more need be said.

The Circuit Court was in session, His Honor John Gill Shorter,
presiding, and Maroney would soon be tried before him. He was confident
that he would be acquitted and had all his plans made as to what he
would do when he was liberated. Not the shadow of a doubt had crossed
his mind as to the fealty of White.

He heard that he was in Montgomery and received a note from him, saying
that all was well; that the Adams Express had compelled him to come--an
unwilling witness--to see if they could not force the secret from him,
but they would find that they had "collared" the wrong man this time.
Maroney was braced up by this note. He knew that White would not give
up; he felt confident of that!

It was the morning of the trial, and before nightfall he would be a free
man. It was a lovely day and the court-room was packed with spectators,
among whom were many of Maroney's former friends.

He walked proudly into the court-room, between two deputies, with an air
that plainly said, "I am bound to win!"

His friends clustered around him and vied with each other as to who
could show him the most attention. Foremost among them was Porter, to
whom he gave an extra shake of the hand. I will not dwell upon the
trial. The witnesses for the prosecution were called one by one. They
were the employes of the company who were in any way connected with the
shipment or the discovery of the loss of the money, which ought to have
been sent to Atlanta, when, in reality, it had gone down the Alabama in
Maroney's old trunk.

The witnesses proved that the money had disappeared in some mysterious
way; but they did not in the slightest degree fasten the guilt upon
Maroney. His spirits rose as the trial progressed, and his counsel
could not but smile as he heard the weak testimony he had to break down.
He had expected a toughly contested case, but the prosecutors had
presented no case at all.

At length, the crier of the court called "John R. White."

As John R. White did not immediately appear in answer to the call,
Maroney seemed, during the brief period of silence, to suddenly realize
how critical was his position. His cheek blanched with fear. He seemed
striving to speak, but not a word could he articulate. As White
deliberately walked up to the witness-stand, Maroney seemed at once to
realize that White would never perjure himself for the sake of
befriending him. His eyes were filled with horror and he gasped for
breath.

A glass of water was handed to him. He gulped it down, and, vainly
endeavoring to force back the tears from his eyes, in a hoarse, shaky
voice, he exclaimed:

"Oh, God!" Then, turning to his counsel, he said: "Tell the court I
plead guilty. He," pointing to White, "knows the whole. I am guilty!! I
am gone!!!"

This ended the matter. The counsel entered a plea of guilty and the
Judge sentenced Maroney to pass ten years in the Alabama Penitentiary,
at _hard labor_.



***