 CHAPTER XVII. In the afternoon Madame Imbert called on Mrs. Moroney, leaving Miss Johnson at home. Mrs. Moroney met her kindly and poured into her ear a tale of sorrow. She told Madame Imbert that she was going south for a short visit, but that she would soon return, and then they could comfort each other. She did not mention where she was going or allude in any way to Montgomery. Madame Imbert did not deem it good policy to ask questions too closely, and although she very much wished to get information, she remembered my strict orders against running any risk, and did not ask. In the evening, Rivers went up to Stemples and took a seat in the bar room as it was the best place to gain information of what was going on. He had not been long there before Josh Cox came in and asked for Stemples. He is in the stable, said Rivers. I will go and get him for you." Now, said Cox, don't disturb yourself, and started for the stable himself. Rivers very politely accompanied him but was unable to overhear what was said as Cox drew Stemples to one side and spoke to him in a low tone. Stemples said, all right, and Cox started off. Rivers stopped him and asked him to take a drink. I don't mind if I do, answered Josh, and after drinking he said, I am in a damned hurry and was gone. There is one drink gone to no purpose muttered Rivers as he made his way to the barn. He found Stemples hurriedly harnessing up his team and turned in to help him. Strange fellow that Cox remarked Stemples. He wanted to get my team and not let me know where he was going. I told him he could not have it if he did not say where he was going and he then said he was going to Chestnut Hill a few miles this side of Philadelphia, but I'll bet he was going into the city. He said he would have the team back before morning, so I finally consented to let him have it. This was startling news to Rivers. There were no horses in the town that he could hire, and he had no time to harness them if there had been. He managed to see Madame Imbert and reported to her his predicament. They are going into the city, said she, and you must follow them at all hazards, even if you have to run every step of the way. Rivers had no time to lose. Stemples' team was at the door and in a few minutes Josh came for it and drove down to his house. Mrs. Moroni and Flora were waiting for him and as he drove up got into the wagon while Josh hoisted up their trunks. Rivers had no conveyance, but he was determined not to be outdone. He was young and athletic, and as they drove off he started after them on a keen run. He knew he had a twelve-mile race before him, but felt equal to the task. The night was very dark, and he had to follow by sound. This was an advantage to him, as it compelled Cox to drive somewhat slower than he otherwise would have done, and rendered it impossible for them to see him from the wagon. On and on he plunged through the darkness following the sound of the hoofs and the wheels. The moments seemed to have turned to hours. When would they ever reach the city? At times he felt that he must give up and drop by the way, but he forced the feeling back and plunged on with the determination of winning. When they reached the outskirts of the city, Josh reduced his speed so that Rivers easily followed without attracting attention. Josh drove to the corner of Prime and Broad Streets, to the depot of the Philadelphia, Wilmington and Baltimore Railroad, and assisted Mrs. Moroney and Flora to a light. As usual there was a great crowd at the depot, and Rivers, mixing with it, followed Mrs. Moroney and Flora to the ticket office without being observed by them, and went close enough to them to hear her ask for tickets to Montgomery. Rivers knew no time was to be lost. It was a quarter past ten, and the train left at ten minutes past eleven. He rushed out of the depot, where he saw Josh getting the baggage checked, and hailing a hack, said to the driver, Here's a five-dollar bill for you, if you will drive me to the merchant's hotel and back in time to catch the train. All right, said the driver, and springing to his seat he put his horses to a full gallop and whirled off toward the hotel. Bangs had run down from New York the same evening to consult me on some matters, and he and I were sitting in a room at the merchant's, smoking our cigars, preparatory to retiring after a hard day's work, when Rivers rushed in, and gasped out, Get, rope up! Mrs. Moroney and daughter are on the train bound from Montgomery. We threw our cigars out of the window, and had rope up, dressed as a Dutchman, his trunk packed, and he into the carriage with us on the way to the PW and BRR before he was fully awake. I turned out all the money I had with me, not a great deal as it was so late, and rapidly gave him his instructions as we drove along. We arrived at the station just in time. Roke rushed to the ticket office, said, Second Class Montgomery, received and paid for his ticket, and sprang upon the last car of the train as it slowly drew out of the station. There were no sleeping cars at the time, which was fortunate for him, as if there had been, he might not have been allowed to get on the train. In a moment the train disappeared in the gloom, and Mrs. Moroney and Flora were kindly provided with an escort, in the person of Roke. Leaving them to pursue their journey, we will now return to Moroney in the Eldridge Street Jail. White and Shanks soon came on from Chicago, and Bangs gave them full instructions as to their duties. Bangs arranged a cipher for him to be used in his correspondence, and he learned it thoroughly, so as not to need a key. Having thoroughly posted them, Bangs turned his attention to procuring the arrest of White. He secured the services of a common one-horse lawyer, and placed the case in his hands. The lawyer felt highly honored at being employed in a case of such magnitude, involving $37,000, and remarked that he would soon have Mr. John White secure in prison. He procured the necessary papers, and placed them in the hands of the Marshal to execute. Bangs knew just where White was to be found, but gave the Marshal a big job before coming across him. He searched the hotels, saloons, lawyer's offices, etc., going up to the different places, peeping in, and then going off on not finding him. He was doing an immense business hunting for White. Toward evening White was discovered talking to Shanks. The Marshal took him into custody, and conducted him to the Eldridge Street Jail. Shanks, being a stranger in New York, accompanied him so that he might know the place afterwards. White was booked at once, and while going along with the jailer was asked whether he wished to go to the first or second class, the jailer judging that he would not take the third class. The first class was composed of those fortunate mortals who had money enough to send out to the neighboring restaurants and order in their meals. Of course Moroni was in the first class, so White followed suit. He gave the jailer the usual do-cure for introducing him to the prison, and then had his cell pointed out. White sent Shanks, who had accompanied him so far, to fetch his carpet bag and some clothes. He then retired to his cell to meditate over his painful situation. He glanced around amongst the prisoners, and soon picked out his man. Moroni did not seem to be doing anything particular, but sat musing by himself. In this manner, brooding over their misfortunes, White and Moroni spent the evening until the hour of retirement. The next day White kept by himself, pondering over what he should do. In the course of the day, his nephew, Shanks, who was a young man of about twenty, came with the satchel and made himself very useful to White by carrying several messages for him. Some of the prisoners noticed this and asked White if he would not let his nephew do little outside favors for them. White said, certainly, I shall be only too happy to assist you in any way I can. Shanks was soon such a favorite with the prisoners that he greatly reduced the perquisites of the jailer. Moroni gradually became quite familiar with White. He would bid him good morning when they were released from their cells, and take an occasional turn in the hall with him. They were shut in together, and it became necessary to get acquainted. White wrote frequent letters to his lawyer, who was bangs under another name, and received regular replies, Shanks being the medium of communication. This was a great convenience, as lawyers are not always able to visit their clients when they wish them to. Moroni appeared to have few friends. Mrs. Moroni had gone, and he had no one to pay him regular attention. A few friends would call occasionally, but their visits seemed prompted rather by curiosity than by a desire to assist him. They gradually grew fewer and farther between, and finally ceased altogether. He received letters from the South, from Mrs. Moroni, who was on her journey, and from Charlie May, Patterson, and Porter at Montgomery. These friends kept him well posted. The letters sent by Porter were copies of those I sent him, and were on the general topics of the day. Porter said he was sorry to have to address him in Eldridge Street Jail, and wished he could be of some assistance to him. He alluded with anger to the report which had been circulated of his Moroni's marriage. Of course all his friends at Patterson's knew he had been married for years, and that the report was a dodge of the express company to make him unpopular. Outside of his friends at Patterson's, everyone in Montgomery seemed to believe the slander, and many said they always thought there was something wrong about Mrs. Moroni, and they expected nothing better from her. Many also said they had a poor opinion of him, and believed he had committed the robbery. Porter concluded by stating that McGibbony, the detective, seemed completely nonplussed, and had but little to say about the matter. He, Porter, had conversed with him, and McGibbony seemed of the opinion that it was a move of the Adams Express to place him in an odious position with the inhabitants of Montgomery. After the receipt of this letter, Moroni appeared to be exceedingly downhearted. White noticed it, and so reported to Bangs. As Mrs. Moroni had not yet arrived in Montgomery, she was of course entirely unaware that the news of their marriage had been spread broadcast, and her letters were quite cheerful. White was occasionally drawn into a game of cards. Euker was the game generally played. He was well able to hold his hand, and seldom lost. The stakes were generally for the cigars, or something in a liquid shape, and the supplies were brought in by shanks. Moroni would sometimes take a hand, but it was a careless habit with him, and he did not care how he played. As time passed away, the prisoners became well acquainted, and would talk over the various reasons for their imprisonment. At certain times of the day they would be visited by their lawyers. Moroni had no lawyer engaged, but keenly watched those that came in order to see which was the smartest, so that he might know whom to employ, should he require one's services. Moroni was a smart man, and he gradually came to the conclusion that a lawyer named Jockamson would be the right man for him. White observed that he began to nod to him, and that they always exchanged the compliments of the day. This was as far as he went at present, it being evidently his intention not to employ counsel until Mrs. Moroni returned from the South. At least these were his thoughts so far as White could fathom them. Leaving Moroni for the present, we will glance at Jinkentown. Here everything was quiet, in other words, quotations were low, and no sales. Madam Inbert had little to do. She walked in the pleasure grounds with Miss Johnson, or called at Mrs. Cox's, with whom the madam was now on the best of terms. Mrs. Cox had a number of children, and the madam often brought them little presents and exerted a kindly influence over them. Whenever Miss Johnson and she met Josh on the street, they would notice him, and the attention would make him feel quite proud. De Forest acted the same as before, and was becoming rather sweet on Miss Johnson. Madam Inbert was sad and melancholy, and repelled all his advances with quiet dignity. We will leave them to enjoy their easy times, having to make only two reports a week while we follow Mrs. Moroni and Roke. THE EXPRESSMAN AND THE DETECTIVE By Alan Pinkerton CHAPTER XVIII Nothing worthy of record occurred on the journey, and they arrived at Montgomery in due time. Roke telegraphed to border from Augusta, Georgia, that they were coming, and he, having been previously informed of the fact, was of course at the station to meet them. He was now Moroni's bosom friend, and as such paid much attention to Mrs. Moroni. He met her at the depot with the carriage when she arrived, and conducted Flora and her to the exchange hotel, and gave them a room. The difficulty with Mr. Floyd had been smoothed over, and she soon felt at home. But something strange seemed to have taken place in Montgomery. Porter, of course, paid her great attention, and gave her one of the best rooms the house afforded, but all the ladies she met during the day passed her very coolly. The gentlemen were all friendly, but not so cordial as usual. She could not understand it. She did not go out much the first day, but called up the porter, and, going to the garret with him, pointed out the old trunk, and had him take it down to her room. The following day she called at Charlie May's. Something unusual must have happened, as she left there in bitter anguish. The house was near the hotel, and Porter had seen her go in and come out. She wore no veil, and the traces of her grief were plainly visible. She returned to the hotel and went to her room. Porter, in a short time, stepped up, knocked at her door, and inquired of Flora how her ma was. Flora said her ma was not well. But she had a bad headache. He was bound to get in, so he pushed past the child and saw Mrs. Moroney lying on the bed, crying. Being the clerk of the hotel, his coming in would not be considered unusual. He surmised what had happened, and concluded he could find out all about it. He surmised what had happened, and concluded he could find out all about it at Patterson's. He went over to Patterson's, and met Charlie May. Charlie said that Mrs. Moroney had called on his wife, but had been roughly handled—tongued would be the proper word. Mrs. May informed her of what she had read, and otherwise heard about her getting married at this late date. Mrs. Moroney denied the report and declared that they had been married in Savannah long before, that they had afterwards lived in New Orleans, Augusta, Georgia, and finally had settled in Montgomery. Mrs. May replied that it was useless for her to try and live the report down, that the ladies of Montgomery had determined not to recognise her, and that she had been tabooed from society. Mrs. May grew wrathful, and warned Mrs. Moroney to beware how she conducted herself toward Mr. May. Mrs. Moroney rose proudly from her chair, and giving Mrs. May a look that made her tremble, said, Mr. Moroney is as thoroughly a gentleman as Mr. May or anyone in Montgomery, and he is capable of protecting himself and me. She then flounced out of the house and returned to the hotel. She remained in her room all day, but on the following morning went to the office of her husband's council, where she remained some time, and then returned to the hotel. Porter was summoned to her room, and on going up she asked him if McGibbonny was around. Porter said he presumed he was at the courthouse. Mrs. Moroney then said, I would like to see him. My poor husband is in trouble, and I need the assistance of all his friends. Not but that he will eventually prove himself innocent and make the company pay him heavy damages for their outrageous persecution, but he is at present in the hands of the enemy. If he were only in the South it would be very different. Here he would have many kind friends to assist him. There he has not one who will turn a finger to help him. Mr. Moroney and I are aware of the scandal that has been spread about us, but we will soon put our timid friends to the blush. They think it will be hard for Moroney to fight a wealthy corporation like the Adams Express, and instead of helping him, seem inclined to join the stronger party. With them might makes right, and when Moroney gains the day, how they will come crawling back to congratulate him and say, we always felt that you were innocent. Oh, Mr. Porter, it is a shame. Why has Moroney held a prisoner in the North when he should be tried before a jury of his fellow Southerners? What will not money do in this country? But I will show the Adams Express that they are not dealing with a weak, timid woman. I have just been to see my husband's counsel and have made arrangements to get a requisition from the Governor of Alabama on the Governor of New York to have my husband brought here. I want McGibbonny to go North and bring him down. Of course he would not attempt to escape, but it will be necessary to keep up the form of having him in the charge of an officer, and I think McGibbonny the proper man to send. If McGibbonny will not go, I shall have to ask you, Mr. Porter, to execute the commission. Porter, not having any orders how to act, said, I will think the matter over and have no doubt but that McGibbonny will be well pleased to go. There is only one difficulty, and that is he may not have the necessary cash. That need not deter him, she replied eagerly. I have plenty of money, and will gladly pay him all he asks. I will find him, and bring him to your room, said Porter, as he walked away. He went downstairs and immediately telegraphed to Bangs, in Cypher, informing him of all he had learned, and asking for instructions in regard to acting as Mrs. Moroney's agent in bringing Moroney to Montgomery. Bangs held a consultation with the General Superintendent. The reasons for Mrs. Moroney's trip south were now plain, and it was necessary for the company's counsel at Montgomery to give the matter immediate attention. The General Superintendent telegraphed to Watts, Judd, and Jackson of Mrs. Moroney's intended coup d'etat, and ordered them to take the necessary steps to checkmate her, while Bangs ordered Porter to avoid acting as Mrs. Moroney's agent. In the meantime, Porter found McGibbonny and conducted him to Mrs. Moroney's room. He learned that Charlie May and Patterson had come up during his absence. Mrs. Moroney made her desire known to McGibbonny, and he had once accepted the commission. She thanked him, and remarked that she hoped to have all in readiness in a few days. Charlie May was very attentive to her, and she seemed to thoroughly appreciate him, although his wife had treated her so cavalierly the day before. After dismissing the rest of the party, she had a long, private conversation with Patterson. In an hour, Patterson came down and went to a livery stable where Yankee Mary was known to be kept, and soon after, Mrs. Moroney had an interview with the proprietor of the livery stable. Porter had become one of the clique, and had found that Moroney had a large interest in the stable. Yankee Mary was Moroney's own property, and his business with the livery stables in Chattanooga and Nashville was to examine and buy horses for his stables in Montgomery. In a couple of days, Moroney's interest in the stable was disposed of to Patterson, and the money paid over to Mrs. Moroney. Yankee Mary was not sold, and still remained the property of Moroney. All these transactions, Porter duly reported to bangs, and bangs to the vice president. They decided to secure Yankee Mary for the company, and Watts, Judd, and Jackson were instructed to attach her. This they did, and she changed hands, being afterwards cared for in the stables of the express company. Flora was much neglected, as Mrs. Moroney devoted all her time to business. She was continually out in the company of Charlie May, Patterson, the livery stablekeeper, Porter, or McGibbony. At last it was announced by her counsel that the die was cast, and the requisition refused, so McGibbony was spared the trouble of going north. The governor of Alabama came to the conclusion that he could not ask the governor of New York to deliver up a man who was a prisoner of the United States government, charged with feloniously holding money, until judgment was rendered against him. Mrs. Moroney found she could do nothing in Montgomery, so she packed up and, with Flora, started for Atlanta. Porter had Roke at the depot, and as soon as she started, she was again under the care of the Dutchman. At Atlanta she put up at the Atlanta house while Roke took quarters in a low boarding house. He watched closely, but was careful not to be seen or to excite suspicion. Mrs. Moroney and Flora remained in the hotel, not coming down, for 24 hours. She was, no doubt, arranging something. But what was a mystery? What she did will be eventually disclosed. The first notice Roke had of her movements was when she came out of the hotel with Flora and was driven to the depot. He had just time to get to his boarding house, pay his bill, seize his satchel, and get upon the train as it moved off. Mrs. Moroney acted much as her husband did when he left Chattanooga so suddenly. There as alike as two peas thought Roke, both are secret in all their movements and make no confidence. But the eye of the detective never sleeps, and Moroney and his wife were always outwitted. While they greatly exalted over their shrewdness, the detective, whom they thought they had bewildered, was quietly gazing at them from the rear window of the nigger car. Roke found that Mrs. Moroney had bought a ticket to Augusta, Georgia, but before reaching that city she suddenly left the train at Union Point. There was a train in waiting which she immediately took and went to Athens. Roke knew nothing about the country they were passing through, and was following blindly wherever she led. They had not gone far on their new route when Athens was announced. Roke saw Mrs. Moroney getting Flora and herself in readiness to leave the train. When the cars stopped at the station, Flora and she got out, stepped into an omnibus, and were taken to the Lanier House. Roke followed, and when they entered the hotel, went to a restaurant and got some refreshments. Athens was a thriving inland town. After Roke had finished his meal, he strolled around and finally arrived in front of the Lanier House. Puffing away at his pipe, he took a seat on the veranda. After he mused for some time, apparently half asleep, when he was aroused by the clattering of hoofs and the rumbling of wheels, and looking up the street he saw a stage approaching. It drew up in front of the hotel and a knot of people gathered around it. While the horses were being changed, the driver rushed into the bar room to take a drink. Roke listlessly looked at the hurry and bustle, but suddenly sprang to his feet and almost dropped his inseparable companion, his pipe, from his mouth, for whom should he see escorted from the hotel and assisted into the stage, by the landlord, with many a bow and flourish, but Mrs. Moroni and Flora? Her baggage was not brought down, so that he was certain she would return. He had no time to think over the best plan to pursue, but determined to accompany her at all hazards. The driver came out, mounted his seat, and Roke got up beside him. It must be admitted that he was badly off for an excuse to account for his movements, as he knew nothing of the country and did not know where the stage was going. The driver was a long, lanky southerner, burned as brown as a berry by the sun. He always had a huge chaw of tobacco, stowed away in the side of his left cheek, and, as he drove along, would deposit its juice with unerring aim on any object that attracted his attention. He was very talkative, and at once entered into conversation with Roke. Well, stranger, where y'all are bound was his first salutation. Roke looked at him in a bewildered way, and then said, Nick Verstech, where are you going? Are y'all a through passenger, or where are you going? Well, I wish to see the country. I will go with you till I see Von City, what I likes, and then I will get out with it. Oh, said the driver, in a patronizing tone. Y'all are prospectin' are ye? And so they kept up a conversation from which Roke gleaned that the stage was bound for Anderson's courthouse, S.C. Whenever the driver would ask a question he did not like to answer, he would say Nick Verstech, and so he was very tired over all his difficulties. The passengers, one lady and three gentlemen besides Mrs. Moroney and Flora, amused themselves in various ways as they drove along. The gentlemen smoked and conversed, and the other lady seemed very agreeable, but Mrs. Moroney did not say a word to anyone but Flora. Roke, as he occasionally glanced over his shoulder at her, observed that she seemed to be suffering from much care and anxiety. Eight miles out from Athens the driver stopped to change his horses, and Roke took advantage of this circumstance to get a little familiar with him. He found this an easy matter. A few drinks and some cigars to smoke on the road, which he treated him to, put him in such a good humor that he declared as they drove off that it was a pity his German friend was not a white man. Roke wondered if all the Negroes spoke German, but said nothing. They drove along through a rich agricultural country until they arrived at Danielsville, about sixteen miles from Athens. Here Mrs. Moroney touched the driver and asked him if he knew where Mrs. Moroney lived. Oh, thought Roke, now I see her object incoming here. The driver knew the place well and drove up to a handsome mansion, evidently the dwelling of a wealthy planter. Mrs. Moroney and Flora left the coach and walked up through a beautifully laid-out garden to the house, a two-story frame with wide verandas all around it and buried in a mass of foliage. She was met at the door by a lady who kissed both her and Flora, and relieving her of the satchel, conducted them into the house. Roke, in his broken way, told the driver that he liked the appearance of the town so much that he thought he would stop over. They drove up to the tavern and Roke asked the driver in to have a drink with him. As they went into the bar room, they met the clerk and Roke politely asked him to join them. He informed the driver that he might go back with him in a day or two. The driver did not pay much attention to what he said, as all he really cared for was the drink. After the stage left, Roke entered into conversation with the clerk and under pretense of settling in the town made inquiries about the owners of several places he passed on the road. Finally, he asked who the handsome residents on the hill belonged to. That is Mr. Moroni's place. He is one of the solid men of the town, worth a great deal of money, has some niggers and is held in high esteem by the community as he is a perfect gentleman. In the evening, he dropped into a saloon where he formed the acquaintance of several old saloon loafers who were perfectly familiar with everybody's business but their own and from them gathered much useful information of the surrounding country and had the clerk's opinion of Mr. Moroni fully endorsed. Roke was up early in the morning and strolling around. He met an old negro who informed him that the stage for Athens would be along in three hours. He sauntered carelessly to Mr. Moroni's and watched the house from a safe position but as the blinds were closed could see no sign of preparation within. He therefore returned to the tavern with the determination of keeping a watch on the stage. He had waited about an hour when a gentleman walked up the steps to the stage office which was in the tavern. He heard the clerk say, Good morning, Mr. Moroni, which immediately put him on the alert. Good morning, responded Mr. Moroni. I want to secure three seats in the stage for Athens. Want them this morning. Securing his tickets, he went home leaving Roke once more at his ease as he now knew exactly what move to make. When the stage drove up, he called in the driver, stood treat and again took a seat beside him. The clerk told the driver to call it Mr. Moroni's for some passengers and they started off. Mr. Moroni, Mrs. Moroni and Flora were at the gate when they drove up and all three entered the stage and went to Athens. At Athens they stopped a short time at the Lanier House, sent their baggage down to the depot and took the train on the Washington Branch Railroad which connects with the main line at Union Point. Mr. Moroni bid them goodbye and returned to the Lanier House. The train consisted of only one car and Roke had to take a seat in the same car with Mrs. Moroni, but he went in behind her and took a seat in the rear of the car so that he remained unnoticed. Mrs. Moroni was very restless and after they took the through train at Union Point would carefully scan the features of all the well-dressed men who entered the car. She seemed to suspect everyone around her and acted in a most peculiar manner. In a short time they reached Augusta, Georgia where Mrs. Moroni and Flora left the train and put up at the principal hotel. It was late when they arrived so that they immediately took supper and retired. Roke found a room in a restaurant and after his supper strolled through the hotel but discovered nothing as Mrs. Moroni and Flora remained quiet in their room. The following afternoon Mrs. Moroni and Flora left the hotel accompanied by a gentleman and once more started for the North. The gentleman accompanied them to Wilmington, North Carolina. During the whole of the journey Mrs. Moroni acted metaphorically as if sitting on thorns. She did not seem at all pleased at the attention paid her by the gentleman. When he would ask her a question she would glance at him with a startled, frightened look and answer him very abruptly. She seemed much relieved when he bade them goodbye. Roke was sitting in the rear of the second class car and could keep a strict watch on her movements. Not a person got on or off the train whom she did not carefully observe. Two or three times during the night she fell into a restless sleep but always started up with a wild look of agony in her face. Day or night she seemed to have no peace and by the time they reached Philadelphia she had become so haggard and worn as to appear fully 10 years older than when she started. Roke telegraphed to bangs from Baltimore informing him of the time he would arrive in Philadelphia and green and rivers were at the station to relieve him. Green to shadow Mrs. Moroni and rivers to see what disposition would be made of her baggage and if he found it transferred to Jinkentown to follow it and be on hand there when Mrs. Moroni arrived. Roke went to the office and reported to bangs. He said that he had never seen so strange a woman. She had acted on the whole journey as if troubled with a guilty conscience. He felt confident she had something concealed but could take no steps in the matter until he was absolutely certain beyond a doubt that his suspicions were correct. My orders were clear on this point. Never make a decisive move unless you are positive you are right. If you are watching a person and know he has something concealed arrest him and search his person. Otherwise, no matter how strong your suspicions, do not act upon them as a single misstep of this sort may lose the case and is certain to put the parties on their guard and in a few minutes to overthrow the labor of months. End of Chapter 18, recording by Pete Williams, Pittsburgh, PA. Chapter 19 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 Alan Pinkerton. Chapter 19. When Mrs. Moroney left the cars at the corner of Prime and Broad Streets, she accidentally ran across DeForest who was in the city on some business of his own. Oh, I am so glad to meet you, exclaimed Mrs. Moroney. And I'm delighted to hear you say so, replied DeForest. The poor fellow had missed her sadly. She had parted from him in anger and he felt cut to the quick by her cold treatment. He had at first determined to blot her memory from his heart and for this purpose turned his attention to Miss Johnson and tried to get up the same tender feeling for her with which Mrs. Moroney had inspired him, but he found it impossible. He missed Mrs. Moroney's black flashing eye, one moment filled with tenderness, the next sparkling with laughter. Then Mrs. Moroney had a freedom of manners that placed him at once at his ease while Miss Johnson was rather prudish, quite sarcastic and somehow he felt that he always made a fool of himself in her presence. Besides, Miss Johnson was marriageable and much as DeForest loved the sex, he loved his freedom more. His morals were on a par with those of Sheridan's son who wittily asked his father just after he had been lecturing him and advising him to take a wife, but father, whose wife shall I take? Day after day passed wearily to him. Jinkentown, without Mrs. Moroney, was a dreary waste. He felt that absence makes the heart grow fonder so when Mrs. Moroney greeted him so heartily he was overjoyed. "'Have you been far south?' he asked. "'Yes, indeed, Flora and I have not had our clothes off for five days and we are completely exhausted. What a fright I must look.' "'You look perfectly charming, at least to me you do,' fervently answered DeForest. "'Let me have your luggage transferred to the North Pennsylvania Railroad. "'In that way you can send it to Jinkentown without any trouble. You and Flora honor me with your company to Mitchell's, where we will have some refreshments and then I'll drive you home in my buggy.' After a little persuasion Mrs. Moroney consented to the arrangement and DeForest, once more himself, got their baggage checked to Jinkentown and called a hackman. As he had left his own team in the stable they were driven to Mitchell's. Green followed them up and watched them from the steps of Independence Hall, while rivers mounted the baggage wagon and was driven to the North Pennsylvania station and in less than an hour was in Jinkentown. DeForest ordered a substantial meal at Mitchell's and when they had finished it, ordered his team and drove gaily out of the city, closely wedged in between Mrs. Moroney and Flora. When he went to get his team he hurriedly reported to the vice president that he had Mrs. Moroney at Mitchell's and that her former coolness had vanished. As they drove up to Cox's, Mrs. Moroney was much pleased to meet Madame Imbert and Miss Johnson. The ladies bowed and Mrs. Moroney requested the madam to stop a minute as she had something to tell her. Madame Imbert told Miss Johnson to walk on home while she went to Cox's and was warmly embraced by Mrs. Moroney. How DeForest envied her. DeForest drove up to the tavern with his team and the rest of the party went into the house where they were cordially welcomed by Mrs. Cox. Mrs. Moroney said she was tired almost to death but wanted a few moments conversation with the madam before she changed her clothing. Madame Imbert, she said, you don't know how happy I am to meet you. I have just come from the South where all my husband's friends are. He is now in deep trouble and is held a prisoner in New York at the instigation of the Adams Express Company who charge him with having robbed them of some $50,000. They charge him with committing this robbery in Montgomery but hold him in New York. I went South for the purpose of getting a requisition for his immediate return to Montgomery. When I got there I was much surprised to find that nearly all his influential friends had taken the part of the company and I now return almost crazed without being able to get the necessary papers and my poor husband must languish in jail. I don't know how long. Mrs. Moroney, I can sympathize with you thoroughly. When my husband was prosperous, we had hosts of friends, friends whom I thought would always be true to us but the moment he got into trouble they were gone and the only friend I now have is the abundance of money he left me. In this respect I cannot complain, replied Mrs. Moroney as my husband gave me money enough to support me for a lifetime but it is so hard to be separated from him. I am fortunate in having found a friend like you, Madam Imbert and I trust we may spend many hours together. I must write a letter to my husband to let him know I am again in the North. I will take it down to the post office for you, said Madam Imbert. Oh no, I thank you. I will not put you to the trouble. Josh is going down to Stemples and he will post it for me. Madam Imbert could not well stay longer as Mrs. Moroney seemed very tired so she bade her goodbye, Mrs. Moroney promising to call on her the next day. She was not satisfied with what she had accomplished and feared that Mrs. Moroney had some secret arrangement underway. As she walked musingly along, she met Rivers in a place where no one appeared in sight. Rivers, I wish you would keep a sharp lookout on Cox's tonight. I think they are up to something but what I can't find out, will you? Certainly, replied Rivers. I'm pretty well tired out but I can stand it for a week if necessary. There is another thing which ought to be attended to, said Madam Imbert. Mrs. Moroney is writing a letter to her husband. I think it is an important one. Don't you think you could manage to get possession of it? She is going to send it to Stemples by Josh so you might get him drunk and then gain possession of it. Leave that to me. I think I can work it all right, said Rivers as they separated, no one being aware of their interview. Rivers went to Stemples and calling up everyone in the bar room asked them to have a drink. Barclay and Horton were there and as they swallowed their liquor looked at each other and winked. Horton whispered, Rivers is a little sprung today. Damn tight in my opinion, replied Barclay. In a few moments Josh came in and in a very important tone asked for Stemples. Stemples out, hello Josh, that you? said Rivers, slapping him on the shoulder. I've taken a little too much bitters today but I'm bound to have another horn before I go home. Come and have something? Where is Stemples, reiterated Cox? Oh, he's upstairs, come and have a drink. Josh willingly assented and with Barclay and Horton they went up to the bar. Rivers seized the whiskey bottle as the barkeep handed it down and filled his glass to the brim. Josh, Horton and Barclay took moderate quantities of the liquor. Drink hardy, boys, said Rivers, I am going to have a good horn to go to bed on. Josh looked closely at him and then turned and winked knowingly to Barclay and Horton. The moment he turned, Rivers changed glasses with him, emptied out nearly all the liquor that Cox had put into his glass and filled it with water. Here, boys, drink hardy. Ain't you going to drink up? Thus admonished all four raised their glasses and drained them at a draft. Josh swallowed down the brimming glass of pure whiskey without a wink and it must be admitted that to his credit as a toper he never noticed the difference. They had two or three drinks on about the same basis before Stemples came down. Josh was standing with the letter in his hand, ready to give it to him when he came in. When Stemples came in, Rivers snatched the letter from Josh's hand and said, here Stemples is a letter for you and handed it to him. Cox was in a condition not to mind trifles and scarcely knew whether he did or did not give the letter to Stemples. So long as he had it, that was all he wanted. Rivers, quick as a flash, had read the direction on the letter. Nathan Moroney, Eldridge Street Jail, New York. Stemples took the letter and placed it carelessly in a pigeonhole behind a small railed-off place just at the end of the bar. Josh started home with Barkley and Horton. Rivers accompanied them a short distance and then returned to Stemples. He looked through the windows and saw that the bar room was completely deserted. He peered around and found that both Stemples and the barkeep were in the stable, harnessing up the horses, bent on going to a ball at a neighboring town. He glanced around in all directions until he was sure there was no fear of detection and then stealthily entered the bar room. He noiselessly crossed the floor, went behind the railing, pulled the much-desired letter from the pigeonhole and, with his treasure, returned safely to the street without detection. He returned to his boarding house, procured a lamp, and went directly to his room. He then dexterously opened the letter in such a manner that no trace was left to show that it had been tampered with and tremblingly proceeded to read it, filled with the hope that the mystery would be solved by its contents. He read as follows. My dear husband, I know it will pain you to learn that a notice of our marriage has been published in Montgomery. It has caused a great many of our old friends to turn away from us, among others Mrs. May, who was the first one to inform me and who grossly insulted me and fairly ordered me out of her house. Who could have spread the news? I think the only true friend you now have in Montgomery is Mr. Porter. Patterson swiddled me in the bargain for the livery stable, and Charlie May is, you know, as variable, as the weather in the North. But Mr. Porter did me many kind turns without seeking to make anything out of me. Flora and I arrived in Jinkentown this afternoon, thoroughly tired out. I could not get the requisition. I will write fully tomorrow or the next day. I have all safe in the trunk, left dash dash dash dash dash, at hotel in Athens. I afterward found it convenient to alter my bustle and put paper into it and strips of old rags. It set well, but I was tired when I got home with it. Your loving wife. Rivers scribbled off a copy of the letter and then sealed it up again. He walked back to Stemples and found a party in the wagon waiting for the barkeeper to close up and go to the ball with them. Rivers, still pretending to be drunk, staggered up to the door of the bar room, which was just about to be closed and walked in. There was no one present but the barkeep. The people in the wagon were yelling to him to hurry up. Give me a drink, said Rivers. You've had enough for one night, it seems to me remarked the barkeep. No, said Rivers, just give me one drink and I'll go. As the barkeeper turned to take down the bottle, Rivers flipped the letter, which he had in his hand, over towards the pigeonhole. It just missed its mark and fell on the floor. What's that, exclaimed the barkeep, turning hastily around, a rat? No, a mouse, I guess, said Rivers. I declare if that mouse didn't knock a letter out of the pigeonhole remarked the barkeeper as he picked it up and put it in its place. Hurry up, Rivers, I want to go. Rivers swallowed his drink and went off well pleased with his success. His work was not done yet, as Madame Imbert had requested him to keep a watch on Cox's house. He walked along in the direction of Cox's and felt almost oppressed by the perfect stillness of the night. It was not broken, even by the barking of watchdogs. The whole place seemed wrapped in slumber. When he reached the house, he walked carefully around for about an hour, when a light in the second story, the only one he had seen, was extinguished. He then crawled up close to the house where he could hear every movement within. But all he heard was the shrill voice of Mrs. Cox, occasionally relieved by snorts from Cox, and he concluded that all that was transpiring at Cox's was a severe curtain lecture, brought about through his instrumentality. At 2 a.m., he returned to his boarding house, wrote out his report for bangs, enclosing the copy of Mrs. Moroney's letter, and retired after an exciting day's work. End of chapter 19, recording by Pete Williams, Pittsburgh, PA. Chapter 20 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 Alan Pinkerton. Chapter 20. On the following day, Mrs. Moroney called on Madam Imbert, and together they strolled through the pleasure grounds. Each narrated her sorrows, and each wanted the support and friendship of the other. Madam Imbert's story, we will let pass. Mrs. Moroney dwelt on her husband's hardships, and her conversation was largely a repetition of what she had said the day before. She spoke of her husband as a persecuted man, and said, wait till his trial is over and he is vindicated. Then the Adams Express will pay for this. The vice president has made the affair almost a personal one. But when Nat is liberated, the vice president will get his desserts. When he falls mortally wounded with a ball from my husband's pistol, he will discover that Nathan Moroney is not to be trifled with. In the south we have a few friends left, and Mr. McGibbonny, a detective, is one of them. I think I can trust him. He was to have come north to escort my husband to Montgomery if the governor had granted the requisition, but he would not, and Moroney will hear of my failure today as I wrote to him last evening. De Forest is a useful friend, and I think him also a very handsome man. I left Montgomery feeling very unhappy, and was obliged to go to Athens and Danielsville. I was so exhausted that I had to stop a day at Augusta to rest. I had some valuables concealed on my person, and they were so heavy as to greatly tire me. At Augusta I was forced to alter my arrangements for carrying them, and arrived in Philadelphia completely worn out. I can assure you it was with feelings of the greatest pleasure that I met De Forest. He very kindly took charge of my baggage and brought Flora and me out in his buggy. I'm so glad to be here once more. As both ladies were tired, they walked over to some benches placed in a summer house and took seats. Miss Johnson and Flora had been with them, but strolled off. Mrs. Moroney kept up the conversation on unimportant topics for some time, and then suddenly turned to Madam Imbert and said, you must have had to conceal property at times. Where did you hide it? Madam Imbert felt that now the trying moment for her had arrived. She knew that Mrs. Moroney had the stolen money in her possession, and that if she could only prevail on her to again conceal the money on her person, she could seize and search her. But Mrs. Moroney had said she could not carry it around, and so was obliged to change its hiding place. If she endeavored to prevail on her to secrete it on her person, she might suspect her motives and hide it where it would be hard to find, so she answered in an indifferent tone. Oh, yes, I have often hidden valuables. Sometimes I have placed them in the cellar, and at other times, waiting until it all was quiet, I have stolen out into the garden at a late hour of night and secreted them. Mrs. Moroney looked her square in the eyes, but she did not alter a muscle under the scrutiny. Your advice is good, she said in a musing tone. Madam Imbert would gladly have offered to assist her, but did not at the time feel safe in offering her services. She determined to act as quickly as possible, and to try and discover where she would secrete the money, as from her actions it was evident it was not yet hidden. As they sat talking, Madam Imbert pretended to be taken with a sudden pain in the neighborhood of her heart. She was so sick that Mrs. Moroney had to assist her to stemples. She explained to Mrs. Moroney that she was subject to heart disease and was frequently taken in a like manner. When they got to the tavern, she requested Mrs. Moroney to send Miss Johnson to her, which she did and then walked slowly homeward. In about three quarters of an hour, Miss Johnson called at Cox's and reported that the madam was much better and was sleeping soundly. She had become lonely and had started out to get Flora and take a walk. As soon as she entered the sitting room at Cox's on her return, she found no one there but the children. In a moment Mrs. Cox came upstairs and joined her. She looked quite flurried and seemed not to be particularly pleased at Miss Johnson's presence. Miss Johnson had just made known her desire for Flora's company when Rivers, whom Madam Imbert had seen and instructed to find out what Josh was doing, came in in his usual rollicking way and asked Mrs. Cox where Josh was. He is out in the garden at work, said Mrs. Cox. At almost the same moment Josh yelled up from the cellar, that you Rivers, I'll join you at Stemples by and by. It was immediately plain to Miss Johnson and Rivers that something was going on in the cellar which they did not want outsiders to know about. Miss Johnson remained with the children about half an hour when Josh and Mrs. Moroney came up from the cellar perspiring freely and looking as though they had been hard at work. Josh started out to keep his appointment, evidently longing for a drink and Miss Johnson after a short conversation with Mrs. Moroney went out with Flora. She did not remain long away, soon bringing Flora home and then proceeding to the hotel to report to Madam Imbert. Rivers had already reported and Madam Imbert was confident they were secreting the money in the cellar so she determined to report to Bangs at once. In the afternoon she had so far recovered as to be able to go to Philadelphia to consult her physician. At least she so informed Mrs. Moroney. Before going she walked over to see if Mrs. Moroney would not accompany her but found her tired and weary and in no humor for a ride. She therefore returned to Stemples, hired his team and drove into the city alone. She reported to Bangs and got back in time for supper. In the evening she called on Mrs. Moroney and had with her a long conversation. What with Rivers and De Forest and Madam Imbert and Miss Johnson very little happened at Cox's that was not seen and reported to Bangs. Mrs. Moroney called the property she wished to conceal her own but we concluded that it was the stolen money. For four days all went quietly in Jinkentown. Mrs. Moroney made no illusions to her property and passed the greater portion of the day either with Madam Imbert or with De Forest. On the fifth day she received a letter from her husband requesting her to come to New York and to bring a good Philadelphia lawyer with her. She made known to Madam Imbert and De Forest the contents of the letter. De Forest found that he wanted to go to the city in the morning and made arrangements to accompany her with his buggy. At her earnest request Madam Imbert accompanied them. They drove to Mitchell's, had some refreshments and then separated. Green of course was at Mitchell's when they arrived prepared to follow Mrs. Moroney. Madam Imbert went to the merchant's hotel and reported to Bangs while De Forest reported to the vice president. Here were two persons acting in the same cause and yet De Forest was profoundly ignorant of Madam Imbert's true character. Mrs. Moroney proceeded to a lawyer's office in Walnut Street. Green saw the name on the door and knew that it was the office of a prominent advocate. I will not mention his name as it is immaterial. She remained in the office for over an hour and then returned to Mitchell's where the party had agreed to rendezvous. After dinner they drove back to Jinkentown. The following morning the rain poured in torrents but Mrs. Moroney took the early train and went to the city, shadowed by rivers. At Philadelphia he turned her over to the watchful care of Green. In Camden she was joined by her lawyer and on arriving in New York went directly with him to the Eldridge Street jail. All had gone well with White and Moroney. They had grown a little more friendly though White was very unsocial and seemed to prefer to keep by himself. Moroney had got Shanks to do several favors for him and was very thankful for his kindness. Shanks was busily employed in carrying letters to White's lawyers and bringing answers. The reader has already been informed with regard to the character of those communications. White and Moroney were engaged in a social game of Euker when Mrs. Moroney and her lawyer arrived. Moroney did not have a very great regard for his wife but anyone at such a time would be welcome. He greeted her warmly, shook hands with the lawyer and requested him to be seated while he held a private conversation with his wife. He drew her to one side and they had a long quiet conversation. In about an hour he called his lawyer over and they consulted together for over two hours. White was miserably situated. He could see all that went on even to the movement of their lips as they conversed but could not hear a word. As soon as the interview was over, Mrs. Moroney left the jail, the lawyer remained behind, went to Jersey City and took the train to Philadelphia. Green telegraphed bangs that she was returning and he had rivers at Camden to meet the train and relieve Green. She arrived in Philadelphia too late for the Jinkentown train but hired a buggy at a livery stable and had a boy drive her out and bring the horse back. Rivers was looking for a conveyance when a gardener whom he knew and who lived a few miles beyond Jinkentown drove along. Going out to Jinkentown, he asked. Yes, replied the gardener. Give me a ride? Of course, jump in. And he was soon being rattled over the pavement in the springless lumber wagon. He tried to keep up a conversation but the words were all jostled out of his mouth. The weather had cleared up and he had a delightful drive out to Jinkentown. He stopped the gardener twice on the road and treated him to whiskey and cigars and they arrived shortly after Mrs. Moroney. There must be something up, thought he, or she would not be in such a hurry to get home. What can it be? In Eldridge Street jail, one day was nearly a repetition of another. White acted always the same and said very little to anyone except to Shanks whom he always drew to one side when he wished to converse with him. Moroney conversed with White a good deal and was disappointed on finding that he could not play chess. White would occasionally join in a game of cards but kept separate from the rest of the prisoners as much as possible. He had paid his footing, $5, the fee required to gain admission to the order as the prisoners call it. He found the order to be narrowed down to drinkables and smokables for all the prisoners initiated. Moroney had joined before and said to White, I don't think much of it. These people care for nothing but drinking and eating while I have something else to think about. By degrees Moroney conversed more and more with White. Sometimes he would forget and talk loudly. White would look up and say, Hush, walls have ears sometimes don't talk so loud. At other times he would say, Moroney, I'm not a talking man. I keep my own counsel and I have discovered that the worst thing a man can do is to be noisy. Moroney would try and mollify him by saying, Oh Pasha, I don't say anything in particular. You can't tell who the spies are here, White would reply. Do you see those prisoners? Well, how do you know but that some of them are spies? I would not trust one of them. I have a big fight underway myself. I know the men who are opposing me will take every advantage and I propose to keep quiet and wait. Moroney would remark, but no one heard. Hush, White would whisper. How many times must I tell you that walls may have ears? In time he had Moroney afraid almost of his shadow. When White wanted to tell Shanks anything he would take him by the arm and draw him to one side. His lips would be seen to move but not a word could be heard. One morning Moroney said, White, I would like to have a boy like yours to attend to my business. He is a good boy, never talks loud and I could make him useful in many ways. Yes, replied White, dryly. Shanks is a good boy and minds what I say. Suppose they should bring him on the stand to prove I said a certain thing. Shanks would be a bad witness because he never hears anything I don't want him to. I see he is shrewd and I like him for that, said Moroney. The days passed slowly away. White always attending to his own business which seemed very important. One day Moroney said to White, I'm tired. Let's take a turn in the hall. They made several trips, conversing on general topics when Moroney lowered his voice and said, what? Couldn't you and I get out of this jail? I have not thought of it, have you? Yes, answered Moroney eagerly. All we need is two keys. If we were to get an impression of the lock, Shanks could have the maid, couldn't he? Yes, replied White, you can get almost anything made in New York if you have the money, with which to pay for it. But if we made the attempt and failed, what would be the consequences? We should be put down and not allowed out of ourselves and should be debarred from seeing Shanks. So suppose we think it over and watch the habits of the jailers. Every day Moroney broached the subject but White always had some objections to offer and Moroney finally abandoned the project in disgust. There is no doubt but that Eldridge Street jail at the time could have been easily opened. Little by little Moroney sought to place more confidence in White but found his advances always repelled. White would say, Moroney, let every man keep his own secrets. I have all I can do to attend to my own affairs. My lawyer has been to see me and my prospects as he presents them are not very flattering. Shanks says they are likely to get the better of me if I am not careful. I feel so irritable that I can scarcely bear with anyone. Moroney was more than ever desirous of talking with him but White said, I don't wanna talk. Let every man paddle his own canoe. If I were out of trouble it would be a different thing but my lawyer at present gives me a black look out. Shanks came in and White drew him to one side. They had a long talk and then White paced restlessly up and down the hall. What's the matter, White? Have you bad news, inquired Moroney? Yes, I am deeply in the mire but let me alone I'll wriggle myself out. End of Chapter 20. Recording by Pete Williams, Pittsburgh, PA. The Expressman and the Detective by Alan Pinkerton, Chapter 21. I now determined to strike a blow at Moroney. Some idea of its power may be gained by imagining how a prisoner would feel upon receiving the news that while he is languishing in prison his faithless wife is receiving the unlawful attentions of a young gallant and that everything indicates that they are about to leave for parts unknown intending to take all his money and leave him in the lurch. This was exactly the rod I had in Pickle for Moroney. I applied it through the following letter. Nathan Moroney, Eldridge Street Jail, New York. Ha, ha, ha, your wife and the fellow with the long mustache and whiskers are having a glorious time driving around in his buggy. You have heard of Sanford? He loves you well. He is the one who moves the automaton with the whiskers and long mustache and gives your wife a lover in Jinkentown. You should feel happy and so do I. The garden at night, honeyed words, the parting kiss, she loves him well. I know you are happy. Goodbye. Revenge. Having written the document, I had it mailed from Jinkentown through the assistance of friend Rivers. At Jinkentown all was going smoothly. De Forest was more loving than ever and Madame Imbert found it almost impossible to have a private conversation with Mrs. Moroney as she seemed always with him. When De Forest came to Philadelphia, I had it suggested to him that it would be advisable to get Mrs. Moroney to walk or drive out with him in the evening. He immediately acted on the suggestion and before long could be found almost every evening with her. Mrs. Moroney did not again allude to her valuables and evidently felt perfectly easy in regard to them considering that she had them safely secreted. One day, while Mrs. Moroney was in the cellar, Madame Imbert called. Mrs. Cox met her and said, "'Sister is in the cellar. I will call her up.'" "'Never mind,' remarked the madam, "'I'll just run down to her and stepped toward the cellar door. Mrs. Cox quickly interposed and said, "'Oh, no, I will call her.' This little incident showed Madame Imbert that something was going on which they did not want her to know. Mrs. Moroney soon came up, said she was delighted to see her and did not look at all confused. Rivers, Cox, Horton, and Barkley had formed themselves into a quartet club and were nearly always together. Rivers' arm had not healed as yet and he still wore it in a sling. Cox and he were on the best of terms and the Jinkentowners regarded him as well as the other detectives as permanent residents. De Forest was happy beyond expression and Mrs. Moroney seemed equally so. She wrote letters daily to her husband and often spoke of Madame Imbert and how deeply she felt for her, bowed down with care and alone in the world. She very seldom alluded to De Forest and never spoke of his being her constant companion. While all was passing so pleasantly in Jinkentown, a terrible scene was being enacted in Eldridge Street jail. I had not posted white as to my intention of sending the anonymous letter to Moroney as I wished to find what effect Moroney's conduct would have on him. The day after Rivers had posted the letter, Shanks brought it to Moroney when he came with the morning's mail. Besides my letter, there was also one from Mrs. Moroney. Moroney looked at the letters and opened the one from his wife first. He read it, a pleased smile passing over his face and then laid it down and picked up my letter. He scanned the envelope carefully and then broke the seal. White was watching him and wondering why he examined the letter so closely. As he read, White was astonished to see a look of deep anguish settle on his face. He seemed to be sinking from some terrible blow. He recovered himself, read the letter over and over again, then crushed it in his hand and threw it on the floor. He sprang to his feet and walked rapidly up and down the hall, but returned and picked up the letter before the wily White could manage to secure it. White wondered what it was that troubled Moroney. He whispered to Shanks, What the devil is the matter with Moroney? He has received bad news. I should like in some way to find out what it is. The old man will be wondering what is in that note and when I report, will blame me for not finding out. Moroney appeared almost crazed. He forced the letter into his pocket and went into his cell without a word, but his face was a terrible index of what was passing in his mind. After a little, White and Shanks walked by his cell and saw him lying on the bed with his face hidden in the clothes. He did not come out for over an hour and when he did he seemed perfectly calm. He was very pale and it was astonishing to see the change wrought in him in so short a time. White met him as he came out but did not appear to notice any difference in him. Here, Moroney, have a cigar. They're a new brand. Shanks is a superior judge of cigars. I think these are the best I have yet had and I believe I will get a box. I can get them for eleven dollars and they are as good as those they retail at twenty cents apiece. Moroney held out his hand mechanically and took one. He put it into his mouth and without lighting it, commenced to chew it. White, in one of his reports to me, says a man often shows his desperation by his desire to get more nicotine than usual. Moroney did not converse with White and only said he wanted to write. He sat down and wrote a note but immediately tore it up. He wrote and tore up several in this way but finally wrote one to suit him. White quietly told Shanks that when Moroney gave him the letter he was writing he must be sure and see its contents. Of course, Shanks always obeyed orders and never neglected anything his uncle told him to do even if it was to forget something that had happened. In this way he was extremely useful. It was getting late and the jailer had told him two or three times that he must go but he did not take his departure until Moroney had sealed the letter and handed it to him. Moroney was in a terrible condition and found that it would be impossible to get anything out of him that night as the whole affair was too fresh in his mind so he got some brandy he had in his cell and asked him to take a drink. Moroney eagerly swallowed a brimming glassful and took four or five drinks in rapid succession. He seemed to suffer terrible anguish and his whole frame trembled like a leaf. In a few minutes he retired to his cell evidently determined to seek oblivion in sleep. We will now follow Shanks to his hotel where he is engaged in opening Moroney's letter. Although the letter was very securely sealed he accomplished the task without much difficulty and read as follows. Madam, I have received a strange letter. What does it mean? Are you playing false to me? Who is this man you have with you? Where does he come from? Are you such a fool as not to know he is a tool of the atoms affecting with him? I cannot be with you. If I had my liberty I would hurried to your side snatch you from this villain and plunge my knife so deep into him that he would never know he had received a blow. Why are you so foolish? Do you love me? You have often said you did. You know I have done all in my power to make you happy and have placed entire confidence in you. Why have you never told me about this man? You love me as before and all will go well. Tell me all and tell me it is not so bad as it is told to me. Spurn this scoundrel and have confidence in me forever. Nat Shanks hurriedly copied this letter and mailed it after making another copy which he forwarded to me at the same time. In the morning he gave White a copy of the letter which revealed to him the cause of Moroney's anguish. Moroney came to White in the morning and found him moody and not inclined to talk. Still he clung to him as his only hope. It was a strange fascination which White had acquired over Moroney. Moroney appeared to feel better although he was still very pale and seemed to be comforted by White's presence although he did not say a word about his trouble. We will now make a trip which Moroney would like to make and return to Jinkentown. Moroney's letter arrived by the 5 p.m. mail at Jinkentown the day following the one on which Shanks mailed it. In the morning Mrs. Moroney had spent some time with Madame Imbert and then had gone for a drive with de Forest. They went to Maniunk, had a fish dinner washed down with a bottle of champagne and drove back as happy and free from care as two children. Mrs. Moroney left the buggy at Cox's at half past four and found Madame Imbert waiting for her. The Madame noticed that she was a little exhilarated. After they had conversed for some time she asked Mrs. Moroney out for a walk and they strolled leisurely down to the station. The train from Philadelphia had just passed through and Mrs. Moroney said let us walk up to Stemples and see if any letters have come for us. When they reached Stemples Mrs. Moroney went in and received a letter. Madame Imbert was not so fortunate. Oh! laughed Mrs. Moroney. I've seen the time when I was single that I would receive half a dozen letters a day. But this is more valuable than them all as it is from my husband. Hey ho! I wonder what my darling Nat has to say. At the time she broke the seal and then proceeded to read the letter. Madame Imbert walked a little way behind her as was her habit. She was a very tall commanding woman and made this her habit so that she could glance as Mrs. Moroney might read as they walked along. It was a part of her business and so she was not to be blamed for it. Mrs. Moroney flushed at the first word she read but as she went on her color heightened until she was read as a coal of fire. Why, she muttered, Nat! You're a damned fool! When angered she always used language she had acquired in her former life. Madame Imbert heard her and was anxious to see the contents of the letter and only catch a word here and there as she looked over Mrs. Moroney's shoulder. Mrs. Moroney glanced over the letter hurriedly and then read it again. She muttered to herself and the Madame hoped she was going to tell her what it was that caused her hard words but she did not and soon folded the letter up and put it away. As they neared coxes she said please excuse me, I feel unwell and fear I have been too much in the sun today. At this moment De Forest walked out of Josh's. Mrs. Moroney said he will you come to the garden this evening? Madame Imbert turned to leave. Mrs. Moroney looked him full in the face with flashing eyes, clenched her little hand and in a voice hoarse from passion exclaimed what do you want here you scoundrel? If a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet De Forest could not have been more astonished. He was struck speechless. His powers of articulation were gone. She said not one word more but stalked into the house and closed the door with a bang that made him jump. Madame Imbert wended her way to the tavern but De Forest stood for fully two minutes seemingly deprived of the power of motion. He then darted eagerly toward the door determined to have an explanation but was met by Josh who said you've done something that has raised the devil Mrs. Moroney and she will play the deuce with you if you don't clear out. If you try to speak to her, she will pistol you sure. But what have I done asked De Forest it's only an hour since I left her and we were then on the best of terms I have always treated her well. Come, come said Josh, don't stand talking here people will see we are having a fuss and he took De Forest by the arm and led him towards temples. Madame Imbert had met rivers on her way to find out how affairs were progressing. He arrived at this moment. Hello, said he to Josh, I was just coming to see you. Yes, you have come at the wrong time Mrs. Moroney is as mad as blazes and would have shot De Forest if it had not been for me. I can't tell what for but by the eternal she would have done it. De Forest was all in a maze. He could not imagine what he had done to cause the woman he loved to become so excited as to desire to kill him. They all three went to the hotel and De Forest although generally not a drinking man called them all up and treated. The fun of the whole thing was that De Forest had not the slightest idea what it was that had caused the trouble. Only an hour before she was by his side in the buggy and they were so happy and so loving. She had been cooing like a turtle dove and now a wondrous change she wished to shoot him. He could not remember having uttered that it would wound the most sensitive nature. After tea, Madame Imbert walked down to Cox's first seeing rivers and directing him to keep a close guard on the house that night and especially to watch the cellar window so as to know if anything took place in the cellar. On arriving at Cox's she was shown into Mrs. Moroney's room. Mrs. Moroney was in bed but did not have her clothes off. She had not been crying but fairly quivered with suppressed excitement. She rose and closed the door and then burst out with, Why Madame Imbert, have you ever heard of so foolish a man as my husband? Who knows where De Forest comes from? Do you?" No," answered the Madame. He was here when I came. Don't you know? No. All I know is that I became acquainted with him here when I first came and I found him so serviceable that I kept up the acquaintance. I was a manor. Damn him! I put a ball through him if he dares to injure me. Keep cool, keep cool, what does it matter? You are excited. It's a bad time to talk," urged Madame Imbert. But I must talk. I shall suffocate if I don't. Madame Imbert, I must tell you all. No, you must not talk now. Calm yourself. You must keep cool. Think of your poor husband languishing in prison and remember that any false move indoors may prove to his disadvantage. But what makes him charge me with receiving improper attentions from De Forest? I know I have sometimes been foolish with him, but he is soft and I have molded him to my purpose. He has been an errand boy, nothing more, and now my husband thinks me untrue to him when I would gladly die for him if it would help him. It is too hard to bear. Too hard! Madame Imbert had had the forethought of Brandy with her, so she advised, Don't make things worse than they are. You would better say no more until morning. Here, have a little Brandy. I saw you were nervous, and so I brought a bottle with me. Take some, and then go to bed. After a good sound sleep, you will be able to see your way much clearer than now. Oh, thank you," said Mrs. Moroney, as she eagerly seized the glass and gulped down a large quantity. Madame Imbert started to leave. Please don't go yet. I must tell you all, pleaded Mrs. Moroney. Wait till tomorrow, said Madame Imbert. It is a bad time to talk. Madame Imbert, you are now my only friend, and I would like to have your opinion as to who it is that is writing these letters about me to my husband. If I knew the dirty dog, I would put a ball through him. I am not fairly treated. I am Moroney's wife, and he should not believe such slanders against me. As long as I live, I will do all I can for him. Mrs. Moroney, said Madame Imbert, getting up. I must not listen to you. I will go. Please don't. Who can it be that is writing these reports from Jinkentown again, inquired Mrs. Moroney. That is a point upon which it is hard for me to enlighten you, replied the Madame. It might be Barkley or some of Josh's friends. Josh is a good clever fellow for a brother-in-law, but I would not trust him too much. He is a little inclined to talk, and Barkley may have drawn something from him and written to your husband. I know DeForest don't like him. I will see Josh at once and find out about this Barkley, said Mrs. Moroney. You'd better wait until morning, said Madame Imbert, as she rose to leave the room. I must go to bed, and you would better follow my example. Mrs. Moroney began to show the effects of the brandy she had been drinking, but she took Madame Imbert's arm with her. It was now ten o'clock, but she requested the Madame to take a turn in the garden with her. They had hardly taken two steps before Mrs. Moroney stumbled over a man concealed at the side of the house. It was rivers, but he was up and off before the frightened ladies had a chance to see him. Madame Imbert screamed lustily, although she well knew who it was. Damn him, said Mrs. Moroney. That's that DeForest. I will kill him for sure. Nothing here. Madame Imbert remarked that it was either he or Barkley. I know what he is looking after, said Mrs. Moroney. I see through the whole thing. DeForest is a tool of the Vice President. He thinks he has got my secrets, but I'll be after him yet. Her voice was hoarse and dry, and plainly showed the effects of the brandy. Madame Imbert walked out of the garden and went to the tavern while Mrs. Moroney went into the house. Rivers, when he was disturbed in his watching of the cellar window, rushed straight to Stemples, where he found Barkley, Horton, and Cox. How do you do, boys? Said he, come and have a drink. I have just come in from seeing my girl. She's a good one, and I think will make me happy. Had a long walk, though, over two miles, and I think I deserve a glass. Josh was telling about Mrs. Moroney's quarrel. Rivers heard him patiently through, and they had two or three drinks when Mrs. Cox stalked into the room. All the women in Jinkentown seemed on the rampage, at least all those we are dealing with. Josh, you are lazy good-for-nothing, fellow. I've been looking all over the village for you. Why, you ought to know you could find me here, said Josh. Come home at once. Sister wants you to watch the house tonight. Someone has been lurking around there, and she wants you to find out who it is. Well, said Josh carelessly. I'll come. Rivers now spoke up. I'm not very busy just now, and I'll watch with you. Will you, said Mrs. Cox, in a pleased tone, would be much obliged to you if you would. Josh has been drinking so much that I can't place much reliance on him. Certainly, said Rivers, and the trio started for the scene of action. Mrs. Moroney was in bed when they arrived, but she hastily rose and came to the door in her night-dress. Now, Josh, she commanded, I want you to keep a close watch, and if de Forest or anyone else comes by the cellar window, just you think they are coming to rob your house and fire. Here is my revolver. I'll take care of that, said Rivers. I'm going to stay up and watch with Josh. Oh, thank you. Josh, you would better let Mr. Rivers have the revolver. She went in, and Josh turned the revolver over to Rivers. Then secreted themselves where they could see anyone coming into the yard. In less than an hour, Josh was snoring. At three in the morning Rivers roused him up, got him into the house, and then, thoroughly tired out, started for home. End of Chapter 21 Recording by Pete Williams The Expressman and the Detective By Alan Pinkerton Chapter 22 In the morning Jinkentown enjoyed the calm that always follows the storm. Madame Inbert called on Mrs. Moroney and found her suffering from a severe headache. She said she feared she had taken too much champagne the day before and believed that de Forest had attempted to get her drunk. She could not imagine why he watched the house. She was bound to have nothing more to do with him, as she was certain he was a tool of the Express Company. And yet, she said, I thought he was a man above that sort of business. I thought he would disdain to sell himself for such a purpose. Madame Inbert advised her to be patient and to be careful not to do de Forest an injustice by judging him wrongfully. You don't know, she remarked, but that he really loves you and was only trying to see if you were receiving other company. They conversed for some time on the subject and Madame Inbert finally found that Mrs. Moroney was very much inclined to take her view of the subject. She said she really thought de Forest loved her and perhaps she had been too hasty with him. It was Madame Inbert's best plan to take this course as it would show what a disinterested friend she was. She wanted to keep watch on Cox's house, but in such a manner as not to excite suspicion. Mrs. Moroney said she would write to Nat and explain the latter, but said she would like to find out who had written to her husband. Madame Inbert and she cogitated over the subject for some time but could not decide upon any particular person. Finally, Mrs. Moroney concluded she would take a nap as she thought she would feel much brighter afterwards. She said she would write to her husband the first thing after dinner and asked the Madame to call a little later and take a walk with her. De Forest remained in the hotel all the morning. He did not call on Mrs. Moroney and vainly puzzled his brain to determine the cause of her excitement. He came into the bar room where he found rivers as serene as ever and willing to console anyone. In a few minutes Josh, Horton, and Barclay arrived. The posse talked over the trouble of the preceding night and De Forest hoped that, as Josh had come from the scene of action, he would be able to enlighten him as to the cause of Mrs. Moroney's strange conduct. But Cox was as much at a loss to account for her passion as he. Said he, all I know is that she is a regular tartar and no mistake. Didn't she rave, though? The vice president and I received the reports in Philadelphia and had a quiet laugh over them. All was working to suit us. In the afternoon Madam Imbert walked out with Mrs. Moroney who had just finished her letter to her husband. As they walked along she said, I told my husband that I knew nothing about the man with the long moustache further than that he was living in Jinkentown before I left the South, that when I first arrived here he did several kind things for me and had driven me into Philadelphia a few times when I could not get the train, but that you, Madam Imbert, had always accompanied me. I spoke of you as a perfect lady and as being a true friend of mine and that you often cautioned me against talking too much. I said that if it was deforest he alluded to I was perfectly safe in his company. I asked him if he thought it likely that I, whose interests were identical with his, would be likely to prove untrue to him and told him he might rest perfectly assured that I would do nothing without his knowledge and consent. They walked to Stemples's and posted the letter. On the way they met deforest but Mrs. Moroney took no notice of him. After mailing the letter they strolled through the pleasure grounds for some time. At last they separated each taking their respective way home. At the tavern Madam Imbert was met by deforest who requested a private interview. She readily consented and after tea met him in the sitting-room. Deforest related his sorrowful story and asked her if she knew what had caused Mrs. Moroney to treat him so harshly. She said, these things will happen once in a while. It is part of a woman's nature to take sudden and unaccountable freaks, but all will be right by and by. She quoted Scott's beautiful lines, a woman in our hours of ease, uncertain, coy, and hard to please, and variable as the shade, by the light quivering aspen made, when pain and anguish ring the brow, a ministering angel vow. Deforest fervently hoped that, as she had brought pain and anguish to his brow, she would now become his ministering angel and went off somewhat comforted. Madam Imbert saw Mrs. Moroney in the evening and told her of the interview with deforest. This made her feel quite happy and she even remarked, I think I've been too hard on the poor fellow. White and Moroney were together when Mrs. Moroney's letter arrived. Moroney read it carefully through and then went to his cell. In the afternoon White observed him writing and directed Shanks to open the letter when he received it. Shanks did so and found it was to his wife. He wrote that he was happy to hear that she was still true to him and to find that he had been deceived. He felt assured that the blow must have been aimed by some of his enemies. If he were at liberty he would find the man, but as he was not he would have to wait. He directed her to endeavor to find out who had sent the letter. As she assured him she would do nothing without his approval. He was contented. When I received a copy of his letter I was convinced that he was trying to make the best of a bad bargain. He could not be spared from Eldridge Street Jail just at that time and had to trust his wife whether he would or not. White and he lived quietly together. He told White that he was confined at the instigation of the Adams Express who accused him of stealing fifty thousand dollars from them. But of course, said he, I'm innocent. Still, as I have before mentioned, he was anxious to break jail, an unusual inclination for an innocent man. About this time he happened to read in the papers an account of a robbery in Tennessee in which a description of the stolen money and bills was given. As he and White were walking in the hall he said to White, White, I wonder if it would not be a good move to try some game in my case. Of course, I am innocent. I think the messenger chased the guilty party and I want to arrange some plan to throw suspicion on him or someone else. But, in an amusing tone, there is no one else. Chase received the money from me and put it into the pouch. Still, I can't prove this as there were no witnesses. It will be my oath against his and as the company have taken his part he will have the best of it. It is a strange affair. Chase was at the counter checking off the packages as I put them in the pouch. He now says that he did not see all the packages as they went in so quickly that he had all he could do to check them off. Strange indeed. If I were checking off packages of such large amounts I think I should be likely to look at them, don't you? I wish in some way to prove Chase dishonest. At present it is even between us, but the company support him and leave me in the lurch. Yes, said White. It is just about as you say, an even thing between you, but the company have undoubtedly sided with Chase, because you have the most money and they think they can recover the money from you or from your friends. But I don't see how you can clear yourself. If Chase only swears he did not receive the money it will go hard with you. White thought that now Maroney would propose to him to get shanks to have some duplicate keys of the company's pouch made. But apparently he did not yet feel fully certain that he could trust White. He broached the subject several times but finally dropped it all together. A few days after Maroney had another talk with White and treated him with much more confidence than before. White said little and was a good man to talk to. Maroney made no admissions but all his expressions and manners showed guilt. White at least did not accept them as showing his innocence. He always pointed to Chase as the guilty party. Maroney frequently brought up his troubles as a topic of conversation with White, but White was professedly so employed with his own business that he said but little. All that Maroney said to him seemed to go in at one ear and out at the other. When he made a remark it was a casual one and had no bearing on the subject. This caused Maroney to talk still more and devising plans for throwing suspicion on Chase. White casually said, What sort of man is Chase? A smart, shrewd fellow who would pick up a money package if he saw it lying handy and dispose of it? No, replied Maroney, slowly weighing every word. I don't think he would. He is a pretty fair man but the company have no right to make him a witness against me. Who are his friends? His father lives in Georgia. He is a whole-sold old planter. Has a good many slaves but his property is much encumbered. Chase is a good fellow, after all. By the by, asked White, Does he ever go to see the fancy girls? Yes, he does occasionally, answered Maroney. Would it not be a good plan to take four or five thousand dollars and get the girls to stuff it into his pants pocket? Then get him drunk and, as he started away, have some detective arrest him? Yes, answered Maroney. It might be done and Gus McGibbony is the man to do it. He's a good friend of mine. If I were only out I might do something. White, your idea is a good one. You're a splendid contriver. But I must find someone to carry out the plan. I have friends in Montgomery and I think Charlie May would help me. Now he is too much under the influence of his wife. Paterson would help me some but I think Porter is the best man for me. Porter? Who's he? He is the clerk of the exchange hotel, said Maroney. He would be a good man for you if you can trust him. I know I can do that. He would do anything in the world for me. He's just the man to be familiar with the girls. Clerks at hotels always are. Girls must often stop at the hotel and he might arrange to get Chase into a room with one of them and then the rest could be easily accomplished. Does Chase board at the exchange? Yes, answered Maroney. Why, you're a genius. I have a good mind to ride to Porter at once and lay your plan before him. White looked at him in astonishment. Are you crazy, said he? Would you trust such matters on paper? I never do. They were right again, exclaimed Maroney. They talked the affair over for several days, the trouble being to get a proper person to act as a go-between to arrange matters with Porter. Maroney asked White why he could not trust Shanks. You could, but the trouble is he has never been in the South. That would make but little difference. No, now I think of it. I don't know as it would. I have to carry the messages and Shanks always obeys orders. Well, I will think it over, remarked Maroney, and the matter dropped. He evidently fearing that Shanks would get the money and clear out. One day he said, Why, I wonder if the express company would not settle the matter with me. I'm not guilty of the theft, but things look blue for me. I have some money and I think I will make a proposition to them. You could not do a more foolish thing. They would at once conclude that you were certainly guilty and make you suffer for it, argued White. White kept me informed of all that went on, and I had instructed him that he would make no compromise. The company did not care so much for the money, as of making an example of the guilty party. That would show the other employees what would be their fate if they were caught in similar speculations. About this time Maroney's brother came to New York from Danielsville. He was a man of good standing, well-meaning, and honest in his intentions. Maroney had looked anxiously for his coming, as he supposed his brother would be able to affect his release on bail. He knew that his brother alone could not make the bail bond good, as $100,000 is a large sum to be raised, but supposed that by his influence he might get others to sign with him. I placed shadows on his brother's track, and they, with White on the inside and Shanks on the outside, kept me fully informed of what he was intending to do. He appeared to feel very bad at finding his brother in jail, and evinced a desire to do all he could for him. He had a long interview with Maroney and his lawyer, but everything appeared against him. Maroney's brother had no property in New York, and the only way he could raise the necessary bail was by giving a mortgage on his property, as security to some man in New York, and have him go on the bond. The matter was well canvassed between them, but finally, like all the other plans devised to affect his release, was abandoned as impracticable. The man did not like to procure bail in this way, for if he did, and Maroney should run away, the Adams Express would prosecute the bondsman, who in turn would foreclose the mortgage, and in all likelihood become the owners of his property. He would do a great deal for his brother, but felt that this was asking too much. His duty to his family would not permit him to run so great a risk, and he therefore returned home without accomplishing the object of his visit. So far all my schemes had proved successful. White had weakened Maroney's confidence in his friends. I wanted him to see and feel that all those whom he considered his friends before the jail door closed upon him were so no longer. One by one he saw them abandon him to his fate, till he had no one left on whom to rely but White. His brother had come and gone without accomplishing anything. He feared that even his wife was untrue to him, and that she, instead of proving a safe guardian for his property, might at any moment leave with de Forest and the money. His wife had often spoken of a Madame Imbert, but he had never seen her, and knew not whether she was to be trusted. From his wife's correspondence he was disposed to think favorably of her, and several times was on the point of sending word to his wife to pay him a visit, and bring Madame Imbert with her. But what good would it do? After all, it was better to trust White. One day White turned to Maroney, after writing several letters and holding a long interview with Shanks, and said, Maroney, I think I can procure bail. My lawyers have been working hard on my behalf, and one of them went to St. Louis to see my prosecutors. He found they would do nothing unless they got all their money back. Of course I could not give them that, said he with a wink. As I haven't it, and so my lawyer was unable to do anything for me. Shanks, however, has just been in, and he has not been idle during the five days he has been absent. He has made arrangements with a party to go my bail, provided I will advance a considerable sum as security. Nothing is needed now but security, and I think I can manage it. I can give them some money, and they will then manage to get me out on straw bail. I can then loaf around town, enjoying myself, and if I cannot compromise the matter, or if I think that the trial will go against me, I can run away. In this way I shall lose my security, and my bondsman will have to fight the bond, but still, said he with a chuckle, the keen Yankee showing out. But still I shall not do so badly. After all, as I shall have about twenty thousand dollars left to begin business with in a new place. Moroni was more than ever impressed with his ability, and began to think that White was now his only true friend, and the best man to help him out of his difficulty. He had now been in jail several months, and it was time to get matters fixed up. Why could he not trust White to help him? He was a good contriver, and apparently could be trusted. Still it would not do to be too certain, so he would quietly feel his way along. He gradually broached the subject to White by saying, White, I feel very bad at the idea of your leaving me. After you go all my friends will be away from me. I might rely on Porter's help, or perhaps on Patterson's. McGibbonie is a good fellow, and would willingly help me, but I can't trust him too far, as he could be easily pumped. Moreover, the great trouble is that they are all down south. I cannot take my wife from Jinkentown, and yet I feel as though the Adams Express were watching her. What must I do? You are a keen fellow, can't you help me when you get out? I have some money of my own, and I would gladly pay you for your trouble. Well, said White, I shall have all I can do to attend to my own business for the first four or five days I am out, but after that I might help you. I don't know as I shall be able to do you any good, but if I make an effort, I must have a clear understanding that my connection with the matter must never be known. If I wish to communicate with you, I will send shanks, who will be at once admitted to see you as an old friend. If I were you, I would not talk to any of your New York friends about it. They don't seem to care much for you, and very seldom come to see you. Your lawyer is not doing much for you, and it would be just as well not to let him into the secret either. Above all, you must not let your wife or Madame Imbert know anything about it. I've had much trouble once or twice through women, and have determined never again to trust them. It is utterly impossible for a woman to keep a secret. She may love you to distraction, but confide a secret to her, and she is never satisfied till she divulges it. Moroney eagerly listened to all White had to say, and then replied, Why, depend upon it. You are the right man for me. If you will only figure for me as well as you have done for yourself, you will have me out of jail in a very short time. What do you want me to undertake? The first thing is to carry out the plan you proposed the other day of placing the money on Chase's person. I will make the blow more telling by giving you to have a key made similar to the pouch key and putting it into his pocket at the same time. I have a fine drawing of the key and you can easily have it made. I know Chase is the guilty party, and this move will exonerate me and bring the proper person to justice. I am sorry for Chase, but he can't expect me to suffer for his crime. I will furnish you and the necessary money to put into his pocket and give you a letter to Gus McGibbon, who will arrest Chase at the proper moment. That's easily arranged, said White, and McGibbon need not know anything about the Dodge. I shall need him only to make the arrest at the moment when the girl gives me the wink. The worst of the thing is we shall be compelled to have a woman in the case anyway. But I am acquainted with a splendid looking girl here, who may perhaps keep her mouth shut. I will send her to Montgomery, get her into the exchange hotel, and she will soon manage to draw Chase into her room. When he goes in, I will get McGibbon in and have him arrested and searched as soon as he gets to his own room. Capital! Capital! said Moroney, jumping up and walking across the hall, rubbing his hands with glee. Why, if you succeed in this, I will pay you well for it. What kind of money was it the company lost? asked White. Oh, of course I don't know. I never saw it, quickly answered Moroney, at the same time looking into White's face with an expression in his eye, which showed that he wished to read his inmost thoughts. White took no notice of this look, but went on with apparent unconcern. Well, one of the first things we must do is to find out what kind of money was stolen from the express company, procure bills of the same kind, and when they are found on Chase, he is gone and his conviction is certain. Yes, yes, muttered Moroney, as the thought flashed through his mind, can he really suspect me of having stolen the money? Yes, it would be a good plan. You might find out what banks the company received the money from and get some of their bills. It is a good thing to look after, anyway. Moroney was not fully prepared to trust White, although he would eventually have to do it. If he had been scanned by a close observer, there would have been discovered in his mind a doubt of White's fealty, caused by the home thrust he gave when he asked about the money. End of chapter 22, recording by Pete Williams, Pittsburgh, PA.