CHAPTER V.
THE FIRST CLEW FOUND.
Mr. Pinkerton had passed an anxious week, Never before had he been socompletely baffled. The finding of the letter-heads with Bartlett'sname written on them in Fotheringham's trunk had quite upset histheories. Yet the most searching examination could find nothing in thesuspected messenger's previous movements, upon which to fasten anyconnection with the robbery.
The vast machinery of Pinkerton's Detective Agency was at work all overthe country. His brightest and keenest operatives had been broughttogether in St. Louis, Kansas City, Leavenworth and Chicago. Falseclews were sprung every day, and run down to a disappointedtermination. But all to no purpose. Outwitted and baffled, Mr.Pinkerton was treading his apartment at the Southern Hotel withimpatient steps; his brow was wrinkled with thought and his eyes heavywith loss of sleep. In his vast and varied experience with criminals hehad never yet met one who had so completely covered his tracks as thissame Jim Cummings. Of one thing he was satisfied, however, and thatwas, that no professional criminal had committed the robbery, and againthat two or more men were concerned in it.
In Fotheringham's description of the robbery, he had mentioned hearingan unusual noise in the fore part of the car, as if some one weretapping on the partition, and on examining the car, the bell-cord wasfound to be plugged. This showed an accomplice, or perhaps more thanone.
That it was not done by a professional was clear, because Mr.Pinkerton, having the entire directory and encyclopedia of crime andcriminals at his fingers' end, knew of no one that would have goneabout the affair as this man Cummings had done.
As everything else has its system, and each system has its followers,so robbery has its method, and each method its advocates andpractitioners. This is so assuredly the fact that the detective almostinstantly recognizes the hand which did the work by the manner in whichthe work was done.
This particular robbery was unique. An express car had never beenlooted in this manner before. "Therefore," said Mr. Pinkerton, "it wasdone by a new man, and although this new man had the nerve, brains andshrewdness necessary to successfully terminate his plans, yet he willlack the cunning and experience of an old hand in keeping clear of thedetectives and the law, and will do some one thing which will put usupon his track."
He had just arrived at this comforting conclusion, when an impatientrap was heard on the door, followed almost instantly by Mr. Damselopening it and entering the room.
In his hand he held a letter, and, full of excitement, he waved it overhis head, as he said:
"He has written a letter."
A gleam of satisfaction was in Mr. Pinkerton's eye as he took the paperfrom Mr. Damsel, but his manner was entirely void of excitement, andhis voice was calm and even, as he replied:
"I expected he would do something of that sort."
Mr. Damsel--his excitement somewhat allayed by the nonchalant mannerwith which the detective had received the news--seated himself on thesofa.
Mr. Pinkerton read the letter carefully.
It was headed "St. Joe, Missouri," and addressed to the editor of theSt. Louis Globe-Democrat, and a large number of sheets, closely writtenin a backhand, was signed "Yours truly, Jim Cummings." It stated, insubstance, that the robbery had been carefully planned some time beforethe occurrence. That entrance had been gained to the express car by thepresentation of a forged order from Route Agent Bartlett, and thatFotheringham was entirely innocent of the entire affair.
The letter related, minutely, all that occurred from the time the trainleft St. Louis until it reached Pacific.
It told how the messenger was attacked, gagged and bound, and, in fact,was such a complete expose of the robbery that Mr. Pinkerton laid itdown with an incredulous smile, saying:
"Nothing to that, Mr. Damsel. That letter was not written by therobber, but is a practical joke, played by some one who gleaned all hisinformation from the newspapers."
"Indeed," responded Mr. Damsel, "then what do you say to this?" and hehanded Mr. Pinkerton two pieces of calendered white wrapping paper,showing the seals of the Adams Express Company upon it, the stringscut, but the paper still retaining the form of an oblong package.
Surprised and puzzled, Mr. Pinkerton saw they were the originalwrappings of the $30,000 and $12,000 packages which had been taken fromthe safe by the robber. The addresses were still on the paper, and Mr.Damsel, in a most emphatic tone, said:
"I'm prepared to swear that they are genuine."
Mr. Pinkerton, still silent, re-read the letter, carefully weighingeach word, and this time finishing it.
He came to one paragraph, which read:
"Now to prove these facts * * * * I took my gun, a Smith we hadpracticed on, and checked the package in the St. Louis Union Depot,under the initials J. M. Now if you want a good little gun and billy,go and get out the packages checked to J. M. in the Union Depot October25th; there are probably seventy-five or eighty cents charges on it bythis time, but the gun alone is worth $10. Also, if you want adouble-barreled shot-gun, muzzle-loader, go along the bank of theMissouri River, on the north side, about a mile below St. Charlesbridge, and about twenty feet along the bank, just east of that dikethat runs out into the river, and you will find in a little gully ashot-gun and a musket. Be careful. I left them both loaded withbuckshot and caps on the tubes. They were laying, wrapped up in anoil-cloth, with some weeds thrown over them. Also, down on the riverjust below the guns, I left my skiff and a lot of stuff, coffee-pot,skillet, and partially concealed, just west of the skiff, you will finda box of grub, coffee, bacon, etc. I came down the river in a skiffTuesday night, October 26-27, from a point opposite Labodie. It is arun of thirty-five or thirty-six miles. They should all be there unlesssome one found them before you got there." * * * *
Mr. Pinkerton, in a brown study, tapping the table with his fingers,sat for some moments. Rising abruptly, he placed his hat on his head,and requesting Mr. Damsel to follow, left the room. In a short time hewas in the Union Depot, and stepping up to the clerk of theparcel-room, asked for a package which had been left there October25th, marked "J. M.," stating that he had lost his ticket. After somesearch, the clerk brought forward a parcel tied in a newspaper.
"This is marked J. M., and was left here October 25th."
"That is the one," said Mr. Pinkerton, and paying the charges, hastenedback to the hotel.
In spite of his habitual calmness and sang froid, Mr. Pinkerton's handtrembled as he cut the string. As the paper was unwrapped, both mengave an exclamation of surprise and joy, for disclosed to view was arevolver, a billy, some shirts and papers.
"At last," cried Mr. Pinkerton, and he eagerly scanned the variousarticles. The revolver was an ordinary, self-cocking Smith & Wesson.The billy was the sort called "life-preservers." The Adams Expressletter-heads were covered with the names "J. B. Barrett" and "W. H.Damsel." Mr. Pinkerton passed these to his companions.
"They are pretty fair forgeries. Hang me, if it don't look as though Ihad written that name myself."
The detective, all this time, was scrutinizing each article, hoping tofind something new.
With the papers he took out a printed ballad-sheet of the kind sold onthe streets by newsboys and fakirs. Turning it over, he saw somethingwritten on it, and looking closely, read, "----, Chestnut street."
The handwriting was the same as the handwriting of the letter. Thefirst clew had been found.