 CHAPTER IX A look walked carelessly past the door of Moroni's room and saw him busily engrossed in packing up. He lost no time. Where Moroni 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 Moroni had just stepped into a hack and he heard him order the driver to get to the steamboat landing as soon as possible. Roke, 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. Roke 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 Moroni 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 Moroni preferred. He could not tell to what point Moroni 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 through 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 Moroni. His mind was occupied with other thoughts and he paced up and down the deck as if anxious to get to the end of the journey. All went quietly until they reached Natchez, under the hill, when Roke was again astonished to see Moroni's trunk being placed on the wharf-boat. He could not understand this move but had nothing to do but to follow. Moroni 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. Moroni did not seem to place any value on the trunk, and had it put carelessly along with his other baggage. Strange indeed, thought Roke, 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 it 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 Red Montgomery, another Galveston, and still another New Orleans. There was nothing to show that it was of any consequence, and Roke looked carelessly at it, as Moroni had left it carelessly on the wharf-boat along with his other trunk, and sauntered up the hill. Moroni put up at the hotel still leaving his baggage in charge of the agent of Jones Express, who was also proprietor of the wharf-boat. Roke followed Moroni uptown, 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. Moroni might leave at any hour of the night, because 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 when travelling. Moroni did not come down during the night, but Roke felt perfectly easy so long as he kept the trunks in view. In the morning a steamer came along, bound down the river, Moroni 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. Roke 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 Moroni must have had some business with the storekeeper 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 negro 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 Moroni again put up at the city hotel while Roke went to a neighbouring 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 Moroni getting into a carriage on which his two trunks were already placed. He rushed out as Moroni drove off in the direction of the depot where passengers take the cars for Port Chartrain and then go by steamer to Mobile. He had to make quick time again and was fortunate enough to secure the services of a negro Dreyman 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 Port Chartrain and embarking on the steamer Moroni seemed happier than he had yet been and walked around the dock singing and whistling, apparently overflowing with good spirits. As his spirits rose Rokes 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 Moroni 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. Roke 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 Moroni. There was no denying but that something had happened to give him more courage and it flashed through my mind as 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 wharfboat, etc., all I could do was to carry out my old plan. Watch and wait. Roke, 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 Moroni 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 Moroni 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. Moroni 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 Roke but dared not speak to him. Roke, seeing Moroni 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 Moroni 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 Moroni'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 Moroni 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 Moroni'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 Moroni's friends came in and joined the party. Moroni 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 very 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 colored boy to bring the trunk up, and at Moroney's request went to the room with him to assist in the opening. When the trunk was brought up the negro and Porter took off the ropes and Moroney carelessly opened it. There were four boxes of cigars in it. Moroney 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 it? Don't you call that a splendid cigar? Porter admitted it was an unusually fine-flavored weed. Moroney 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 Moroney 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 Moroney and Charlie May pass rapidly up the street behind Yankee Mary. CHAPTER X We will now return to the north, where we left Mrs. Moroney 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. Moroney 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 Moroney 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 underway 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, When I must! When I shall! I did not doubt that Moroney 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. Moroney, and while the interview was progressing a dispatch came to me from Green stating that Mrs. Moroney 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. Moroney 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 8th 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 Moroney was observed to post a letter while in Memphis. Roke managed to see the address as it lay on the rack in the hotel and found it directed to Mrs. M. Cox, Jinkentown, Montgomery County, Pennsylvania. 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 pawnbrokers. Thus equipped as an itinerant clock repairer and having a few watches to dicker with, he started on foot for Jinkentown, a small place 12 miles from Philadelphia. He sauntered slowly along with his satchel over his shoulder, going into a farmhouse occasionally and finally reached Jinkentown. Here he passed from house to house inquiring 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 Jinkentown. 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 Stimples, and made arrangements to stop with him while in town. He found that a man called Cox lived in Jinkentown 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 had 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 merrily as a marriage bell. Cox had two bosom friends, Horton and Barkley. 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, Barkley, you're drunk, better go home. Barkley would insist that he was never more sober in his life, but that Horton and Cox were positively beastly. 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 all his friends, Horton and Barkley. Fox did not try to get any information from Cox, but got all he possibly could from his friends, Horton and Barkley, 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 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 ascent 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. Moroney'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 Cox's from whom he had just returned, and was at once given their history so far as it was known in Jinkentown. The family had been in the town about four years, and had moved there from Morrisville, New Jersey. 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 Cox's, 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 days 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 clockmaker 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 Cox's when they were living at Morrisville, and they unanimously gave Josh the character of a ne'er-do-well. Although there was nothing against him but 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 Centerville near Camden in the state of New Jersey. After a while he got around there, traveling 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 Centerville 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 Jinkentown. 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'm glad to hear it, remarked Fox. He is a mighty fine fellow. His wife is a very superior woman. Let me see. Who was at her sister married down south? She has a sister there, hasn't she? Yes, said Jim. Where, inquired Fox as he put a pin in the clock. I don't remember the name of the place. I 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 name, 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 inquiries 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 merchant's hotel. Banks and I were seated in a private room when Fox came in. After hearing his report, I turned to Banks 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. Moroney 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. Moroney 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 midday 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 padded her gently on the head and calling her a sweet little girl had a few seconds conversation with her, glancing down the stairway 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 merchant's hotel, saw bangs, posted him and started him off in a carriage from Manayunk, to note the actions of Mrs. Moroney 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 ladiesman. He was very gallant to Mrs. Moroney 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. Moroney 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 Jinkentown. 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. Moroney knew the particulars of the robbery, and I had some idea that she had the money with her. Jinkentown 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 Jinkentown 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 Jinkentown so that we could tell where all the letters she received were postmarked 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. Moroney at Jinkentown 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 case as 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 confidant in whom to confide in time of sorrow or from whom to seek consolation. She seemed possessive 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 Warren, 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. Warren 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 Warren, and advising that she be sent to Jinkentown, accompanied by a young lady who should have no direct connection with the case, but simply act as Kate's companion and friend. The Vice President placed such full reliance in me that I had no hesitation in giving him the above sketch of Kate Warren, and advising that she be sent to Jinkentown, 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 someone 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 confidant. I also suggested the propriety of placing a handsome, gentlemanly man at Jinkentown, 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 someone 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 Jinkentown 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. Bang's 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. Warren and her friend for the case. De Forest was given the necessary instructions and drove out to Jinkentown 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 Jinkentown 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 Bang's, got his trunk, and drove back to Jinkentown. End of CHAPTER XI. CHAPTER XII OF THE EXPRESSMAN AND THE DETECTIVE This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. RECORDING by Pete Williams. THE EXPRESSMAN AND THE DETECTIVE. BY ALLAN PINKERTON. CHAPTER XII. De Forest loitered around Jinkentown 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. Moroney and Flora would often pass the morning and 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. Moroney 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. Moroney 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 Jinkentown, she always met De Forest and strolled around with him. What with the gallant Hastenbrook and 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 Jinkentown and lie quietly in wait, keeping a sharp look out on the movements of Mrs. Moroney. 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 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 Warren, 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. Moroney, 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 assumed to be his wife. Mrs. Moroney will most likely wish to remain in retirement for some time. She will probably remain in Jinkentown 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 Jinkentown, get acquainted with Mrs. Moroney, and when you get thoroughly familiar with her, make her your confidant, 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. Moroney will most certainly in time unbwism herself to you. I described the different persons engaged on the case, DeForest, the Lover, Green, the Shadow, etc., and instructed her that not even DeForest was to know who she was or what her errand. In a few days, handsome toilets were ready for Kate Warren, whom we will hear after know as Madame 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 merchant's hotel. Kate Warren 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 Jinkentown, 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 Jinkentown, where board was much cheaper than in the city. Green had been ordered to Philadelphia to take charge of Mrs. Moroney when she came up to the city, or to follow her if she started on another trip. Madame Imbert and Miss Johnson drove out to Jinkentown 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. Madame 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 Jinkentown 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 Jinkentown 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 DeForest and Mrs. Moroney 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. Moroney. One day, as they strolled through the most secluded part of the grounds, DeForest, with a beating heart, presented a beautiful bouquet to her. Mrs. Moroney accepted it with a pleasant smile, held down her head a little, and blushed most charmingly. DeForest 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 Madame Inbert and Miss Johnson arrived at Stemples, the inhabitants of Jinkentown were a gawg 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 of the hotel. DeForest had managed to scrape up a slight acquaintance with them at the breakfast table, and when Mrs. Moroney, 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 Madame Inbert. This was enough for Mrs. Moroney. She loved the south. Moroney was a southerner, and her heart warmed toward anyone from there, so she determined to avail herself of the first opportunity of getting an introduction to Madame Inbert. She entered into a dissertation on Moroney and his virtues did not exactly say that he owned any negroes, but hinted that he would soon do so. She spoke of Moroney as a man who had plenty of money. DeForest turned the conversation from Moroney as soon as possible, for, to tell the truth, he was as much in love with her as was the gallant of Hastenbrook, and my husband was a term that grated harshly on his ear. DeForest 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. Moroney had a habit of blushing. She blushed very sweetly, and accepted his kind offer with many thanks. DeForest 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 detrope. DeForest sincerely hoped that Flora would not be brought along, but, oh deceitful man, he expressed a wish to Mrs. Moroney that the darling child accompany them. Mrs. Moroney 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 DeForest was up, and in the stable, seeing that everything was just as it should be about his turnout. 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. Moroney looked perfectly bewitching as she appeared, dressed in a bright spring costume, and DeForest tingled in every vein as he helped her into the carriage and took a seat beside her. He grasped the rains and the handsome bays were off with a bound. What would have been Moroney'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 verger 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 DeForest. The roads were in splendid condition and they bowled along rapidly, carrying on an animated conversation. When they arrived in Philadelphia DeForest drove to Mitchell's restaurant, opposite Independence Hall, where Mrs. Moroney alighted, and he drove off to stable his horses, intending to return at once and order a hearty dinner. CHAPTER XIII Just 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 DeForest, I promised to go right back and meet her. Oh, I almost forgot. Two ladies have lately arrived in Jinkentown. I think they are rich. At least the taller one is so reported. Her name is Madame Imbert, and she is from the south. They don't go out much, go to the gardens occasionally, and Mrs. Moroney 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 Madame Imbert could take care of herself. They instructed DeForest to attend to his own business, let other people alone, and with this admonition, send him off. It was DeForest'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. Moroney 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. DeForest felt very sorry, and tenderly said she must not overexert 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 DeForest's mind. It is strange what a difference there will sometimes be in reports. About two hours after DeForest made his report, Greene came in and reported that according to orders he had shadowed DeForest and Mrs. Moroney when they drove into the city. DeForest had left Mrs. Moroney 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 DeForest, poor DeForest, but where ignorance is blissed is folly to be wise. After dinner DeForest 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 DeForest decidedly spoony. Rivers had an easy time of it at Jinkentown. He got well in with Josh, Cox and his friends Horton and Barkley. In fact, anyone 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 border had it not been for the fact that Mrs. Moroney and her daughter were boarding with him and had taken up all the spare room. Rivers did not become acquainted with Mrs. Moroney as she was proud and arrogant, and would disdain to form the acquaintance of any low white trash like him. Whenever Mrs. Moroney 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. Moroney 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 DeForest, who had become her constant attendant. After they reached the city they had to drive slowly, and so he could follow them with ease. DeForest had been ordered to always drive to Mitchell's when he came in with Mrs. Moroney, and Green was there ready to take charge of her when they arrived, relieving Rivers, who would return by the evening train to Jinkentown. Mrs. Moroney had a great desire to become acquitted with Madame Imbert and Miss Johnson. Madame 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. Moroney was taking her accustomed stroll through the pleasure grounds accompanied by DeForest 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 Madame Imbert and Miss Johnson, rushed to her, and the Madame picked her up. Flora had scratched her hands badly, and Madame Imbert had partially bound them up before her mother and DeForest arrived. This led to an introduction, and Mrs. Moroney was not slow in following it up. The next day Madame Imbert received a call from Mrs. Moroney, who wished to more fully return her thanks for her kindness to her daughter. The acquaintance progressed slowly, Mrs. Moroney making all the advances. There was something about Madame Imbert that seemed to draw one toward her. Mrs. Moroney felt that the Madame 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 Madame Imbert received many letters through the post and often found her crying over them. The Madame 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. Moroney deeply sympathized with her, as she compared her own gay and happy life free from care to Madame Imbert's, from which every ray of sunshine seemed to have been blotted out. On one of the trips which Mrs. Moroney made to Philadelphia with DeForest, rivers who had headed them off as usual at the outskirts of the town and was following them in, was observed by DeForest. DeForest had seen the man with the sore arm just before they left Jinkentown, and he now noticed him following them, from block to block. He had no idea that the man could be following Mrs. Moroney, and supposed he must be following him. The idea flashed into his mind that it must be some inquisitive bore, who was following him merely out of prurient curiosity to see how he conducted himself with Mrs. Moroney. 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. Moroney at Mitchell's, he would find out what the fellow wanted with him. When he arrived at Mitchell's, Mrs. Moroney went in, and he drove to the stables with the horses. Rivers met green there, and turning Mrs. Moroney 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 DeForest 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 a rest, demanded Rivers, completely dumbfounded. Never you mind that. You are 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 are my prisoner, so just you come along. Rivers, finding resistance useless, went with him. At the same time he saw DeForest 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 Inbert 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 Moroney's in disguise. I left Madam Inbert 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 arrest and my fears that Moroney had checkmated me. The Vice President said that he thought he could entirely remove my fears that DeForest had come in from Jinkentown with Mrs. Moroney and had reported to him. He stated that he had fixed a fellow nicely. A fellow had been loafing around Jinkentown for three or four weeks, DeForest 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's detective's headquarters. The employees 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 risables 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 it was only a nominal one, and effected his release without any ones being the wiser as to his business. When De Forest returned to Jinkentown 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 Jinkentown for a time, and return to Montgomery. CHAPTER XIV OF THE EXPRESSMAN AND THE DETECTIVE This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. RECORDING BY PETE WILLIAMS. THE EXPRESSMAN AND THE DETECTIVE BY ALLAN PINKERTON CHAPTER XIV. Maroney passed the time very pleasantly. Mr. Floyd of the exchange was on friendly terms with him, not withstanding 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 Euker 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 employees well, he felt that when he called they kept a sharp look out 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 amphitheater of his friends, Spalding and 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 delivery-stable business, and wanted Porter to become his clerk. There was very little talk about the robbery in Montgomery, and when anyone would mention it to Moroney 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. Moroney. She had few friends, indeed, yet these few seemed to have warm feelings toward her. Most of the ladies seemed pleased that she had gone, leaving Moroney still with them. Moroney 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 and permitting attentions from a married man, but Moroney was most enticing when he wanted to be, and in this case loved the girl with what he thought a pure love, and easily overcame any scruples she might have in this regard. He was very friendly with Gus McGibbony, the Montgomery detective, and was always willing to do him a favour. McGibbony being the only known detective at Montgomery was considered a big man in his way. Moroney 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 Moroney and had evidently taken sides in the case, for when he was asked his opinion in regard to the robbery he would say that Moroney was bound to win. In this opinion he was supported by the whole community. Porter would sometimes talk over the case with Watts, Judd, and Jackson, the legal advisers of the company. They were firmly of the opinion that Moroney 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. Roke was having an easy time of it, for as long as Moroney remained in Montgomery he had nothing to do but smoke his pipe and drink lager. He was taking a good rest after his arduous labours shadowing Moroney on his lengthy tour. At least the duties would have been arduous to anyone but Roke 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 Moroney's trial was rapidly approaching. We, the Adams Express and I, must move something. Moroney 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 Jinkentown and on all that occurred in Montgomery. On the first of May Moroney 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. Everyone knew it was Moroney's and even the coloured porter who sometimes went up into the garret with Porter to look up some article that had been sent for would say, that's Master Roney's trunk. The day before Moroney 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, Moroney 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 resolve the reasons of his movements and in arranging plans for his reception to 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 favour. 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 Roke ready to shadow Moroney. 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 Moroney. On the second of May Moroney, having everything in readiness for his departure, went to the depot, accompanied by a great many friends and took the train for the north. Roke 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. Moroney 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 journey. At Baltimore Roke was met by Bangs and Green, who relieved him from duty when they got the spot on Moroney. They found Roke 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, Moroney went to the Washington House, while Roke went to the Merchants Hotel, where he immediately retired and had a good long sleep. At Jinkentown, all went quietly. Mrs. Moroney was well loved by de Forest, well shadowed by rivers and green, and greatly benefited by the pure society of Madame Imbert. She said to Madame Imbert a few days before the arrival of Moroney, 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 Jinkentown 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 Jinkentown 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 Moroney 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 river's services at Jinkentown he was called to Philadelphia to shadow the parties there. Madame Inbert and Miss Johnson, of course, remained. On the sixth of May Moroney mailed a letter, which the shadow discovered was directed to William M. Carter, locksmith, William Street, New York. 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 Moroney. 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 Moroney'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 Moroney met his wife in Philadelphia, I held a consultation with the vice president and Bangs in the office of the Express Company. I maintained that it was the company's duty to arrest Moroney. 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 Moroney 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 Moroney would be sure to affect his release. He would be so excited over his daily expectation of affecting his release that it would be impossible for me to make a proper effort to mold 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 counselor 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 Aster House, where the case was laid before him. After looking up the points of law involved, he decided that we could hold Moroni in New York. We then instructed him to get the papers in readiness so that the moment Moroni 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 per-adventure. I now assigned to green the duty of shadowing Mrs. Moroni and to reverse the duty of shadowing Moroni. I gave them strict orders to keep separate and to make a move only when the persons they were shadowing moved. After Moroni 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. Moroni 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. Moroni 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. Moroni came up, Moroni 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 Moroni 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 it 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 Alderman, was fond of the good things of the 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 by-valves 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. 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 house 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 someone 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 Moroni give vent to his pent-up feelings. How she must have looked forward with delight to the coming time when Moroni, 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. Moroni 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 Moroni, 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, Maroney Irvin at Philadelphia on May 7, 1859 by Alderman G. W. Williams, Nathan Maroney of Montgomery, Alabama to Mrs. Irvin of Jinkentown, Pennsylvania. Montgomery Papers, please copy. I sent copies of the Press containing the notice to all the Montgomery Papers, enclosing the usual $1 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 to 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 results 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 honeymoon. 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 wracked 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. Seaward, and he, having all the papers ready, drove to the Marshal's office. Seaward was a great favourite with everyone, 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. 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, and in the presence of Marshal Keef his deputy and bangs. No words passed between them. His new-made bride of only six hours was bathed in tears, what a honeymoon. 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 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, doubled 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 them. 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 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 someone 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. Seaward'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. Moroney and kept a close watch on her movements. On the morning after Moroney's arrest she visited him in the Eldridge Street jail, leaving Flora in the Aster house. They had a long, private interview, after which she inquired of the Marshal the amount of bail necessary to affect her husband's release. He informed her that the bail had been fixed at $100,000. She seemed surprised at the large amount, returned and conversed with Moroney, then left the jail, and getting into a carriage was driven to 31st Street. Green hailed a passing cab and followed at his ease. When she stopped he had his hackman drive on a few blocks and turned down across 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. Moroney 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. Moroney and the gentleman soon came out, he bade her goodbye and she drove to several business houses in the city. Moroney received several calls during the day. He was very irritable and seemed much depressed in spirit. Mrs. Moroney 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. Moroney 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 Moroney 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. Moroney called on him. He expressed great sympathy for Moroney 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 Moroney 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 Moroney 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. Moroney 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 Moroney, then drove to the Aster House, paid her bill, and getting into a carriage with Flora went to Jersey City and took the train for Philadelphia. I had sent Roke to New York to shadow her and had brought rivers to Philadelphia with me as no shadow was needed for Moroney. When Mrs. Moroney left New York, Green turned her over to Roke 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 Roke 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 Jinkentown. I was not quite prepared for this move, but by four in the morning I was in a buggy on my road to Jinkentown. When I arrived I put up at Stemples, 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. Moroney 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. Moroney 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. Moroney and the madam strolled along together. Mrs. Moroney asked very anxiously about the madam's health and seemed to be much pained when she learned that she was very poorly. Mrs. Moroney, said Madam Imbert, I fear you find me poor company indeed. Your life must be happy beyond expression. You have a kind husband and 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, I don't say that you are thought to be cold and heartless. Everyone 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. Moroney, 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. Moroney for support. Mrs. Moroney 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. Moroney 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. Moroney did not turn from her in horror on discovering that she was the wife of a convict. On the contrary, Mrs. Moroney said, It was too bad indeed. She had suffered also, worse even than Madam Imbert, as her husband was innocent. Things looked badly 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 deforest. Deforest was truly in love with Mrs. Moroney. 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. Moroney exclaimed, Here comes that awkward fool. He is such a hateful creature. I'd like to poison him. Deforest came gaily along, expecting to be received with open arms, but instead found both the ladies in tears. Oh, ladies, what's the matter? Crying? The ladies said nothing, but Mrs. Moroney 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. Deforest walked off with Mrs. Moroney, 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. Moroney had acted in a manner he could not understand, and that he feared someone had cut him out. Rivers kept a close watch on Mrs. Moroney, and in the afternoon called at the house to see Josh. He found the house in confusion and an improvised washing of Mrs. Moroney's and Flora's clothing going on. Josh was carrying water and doing all he could to help the washing along. Damned busy day, said he, the old woman got an idea and 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. 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. Moroney on her hurried journey to Jinkentown, had seen her hold a long, confidential interview with Madame Imbert, which was broken up by the unwelcome appearance.