Part 27

We talked over the matter, and I learned where the clerk kept his private rooms--for he boarded at a hotel, and roomed in a block of business offices and dormitories; and what at first surprised me was to learn that he had left much better rooms within a month or so, since the robbery, and taken up with poorer ones. Mr. Redfield could give me no information as to his habits, save what he judged and what the detectives had reported--all good. But somehow I suspected that there must be a woman involved in some way--a mistress, perhaps, whose extravagance had led astray the clerk, whom we will call Childs, to need more money than he could legitimately make. So I told Mr. Redfield that we must search Childs's room and private papers, if he had any; and it was arranged that Childs should be sent on business to Chicago for two or three days. Mr. Redfield had no difficulty in arranging that, and Childs departed, highly honored with his chief's confidence.

We managed without much trouble to get into Childs's room, where everything but his trunks were first searched,--not excepting the minutest scraps of letters in a wastebasket,--where I found evidences of female correspondence. Further search among some books, on a little shelf at the top of a clothes-press or "closet," revealed some more in the same handwriting--sweet little _billets-doux_, longer letters, etc.,--all passionate, very,--sometimes complaining, etc.

None of these had envelopes, and I therefore judged that they were written in the city, and sent through the post office, and that Childs probably always, at once, destroyed the envelopes. I should say that none, except some evidently old ones, had envelopes. There was no date or place, save "My little room,"--"Our dear boudoir," or something like that,--and sometimes a further day,--"Thursday Morning,"--"Monday Evening." It was evident to me that the charmer lived in the city somewhere; and I had already made up my mind that she must be tracked out as the first step, when, turning over a letter from this female, the rich, passionate, burning language of which, well-expressed, had led me on, I came to the conclusion, and found--"I have not received pay yet for that article. R---- must not think that he can neglect me as he did Hattie; I will be paid for what I write--something, at least. I guess we shall have to visit him together;" and with very affectionate words of parting, the letter closed. And then came a P. S. "Every day I grow more uneasy about _those papers_. I wish you would take them away. What if I should suddenly die, and they should be found with me? You said they were very valuable--and you may lose them. I should regret that. Come _to-night_, dearest."

Ah, ha! here was a literary lady,--a contributor to the story or other papers,--wrote a good hand, and in good style of composition; was evidently on loving terms with Childs. I was in doubt whether mistress or only ardent lover; could not tell that till I should see her, if then. She must be seen. How to find her? Easy enough, perhaps, but maybe not. We left Mr. Childs's room in good order, and separated for the night, I giving Mr. Redfield no more insight into the modes I intended to pursue next day than necessary.

The next morning I started for the newspaper offices with a portion of one of the letters I had found, made a proper story of wishing to engage the literary services of the writer of the letter if I could find her, but that I knew not her name; as her friend, who had given me the portion of the letter to show her style, and had not yet given me her name, had been called off to New York by telegraph, I found,--wanted to find her that day.

At the first office I entered nobody could tell me anything. But on entering the second one, and finding the associate editor, and asking him if he recognized that writing, he looked up and smiled, as if he thought I had a joke for him.

"I guess I do," said he.

"Well," said I, "there's a dispute about it."

"Let's see," said he, in a hasty, nervous way, snatching it from my hand, and glancing at it again. "No dispute about it; that's our ---- ----" (using her _nom de plume_, which I won't repeat, as she is probably living, and many old friends might recognize her in this tale, and learn more than they are entitled to know).

"Where can I find her?" said I; "I want to see her about some writing."

"All right," said he, making some marks on a paper, which I found to be name of street and number of house. "There's where she was the last I knew of her, two months ago. I think you can find her through that."

"Would you give me a note to her, as I am a stranger?"

"Why yes, such as I could. I don't know your name; but stay--no," said he; "give me that paper again;" and taking it, he put his initials to it, and the name of office and date of day. "That will be enough--good as a more formal note," said he; and he caught up his pen, and proceeded as if something was on his mind. "You must excuse me, sir; I have a great deal to do to-day. Can I assist you any further now?"

I replied, "No; I thank you for your courtesy;" and bowed myself out. I was as confident now that I should trap Childs as if the thing was done; but there were two of them, and they must both be caught. Childs could not be carrying on this correspondence with the lawyer and writing to Mr. Redfield, that was patent. I would watch Childs that night, and see if he went to the lady's residence. He did go, and as they took a walk out, I saw her,--got a good view of her face, and made up my mind that she was innocent of any intelligent complicity in the matter. I liked her looks very much. She was one of those impulsive, earnest creatures, who, when they love, love desperately, but who know not how to hate, as some women know, who also know how to love intensely,--a miserable class of women, in my opinion, although novelists love to paint them, and these women themselves are ever boastful of their twofold power of love and hate,--a mean boast of a mean character of soul. I saw that she loved Childs, and I was sure she respected him, and what I should do I knew not exactly; but following them in their walk and back, and waiting till he left her, and went on his way to his office, had given me much time to think, and I had resolved upon a course which I thought the next day would see consummated; when, returning to my quarters, I found a note from Mr. Redfield, begging me to meet him at a certain place that night,--by no means to sleep without seeing him. He would be there at such an hour, and at such other hours till he met me. Something important had happened.

I sought Mr. Redfield as requested; found that he had that afternoon received a note from the parties, again requesting him to meet them, or one of them, next day, at a place near Covington, Kentucky, and to come prepared to "take up the papers, according to our offer," in the afternoon, at six of the next day. Mr. R---- was greatly excited; said that this was their "last call," as they expressed it; that the papers would then be destroyed; "and that will be the last of our house," he tremblingly muttered.

I had been looking the letter over carefully meanwhile, not at all disturbed, for I felt that Childs would not long be out of our hands, when I chanced to reflect that the paper on which it was written was like some of that on which the lady's letters to Childs were written; and I said to myself, probably he has supplied himself and her some time with the same kind of paper; but this is not his or her handwriting. "No, she's innocent," I muttered to myself; "I am satisfied of that;" but the paper was like, and that, though a slight thing, helped to steady me in my opinion of his guilt. I handed the letter to Mr. Redfield to replace,--he having taken it from the envelope before giving it to me,--when, placing it back, a small slip fell out of the envelope as he turned it upside down.

"What's this?" said I, as I picked it up; "we must scan everything."

It was a narrow strip, and on it was written, "My dearest A----." (It was the lady's name, as it proved.) I was astounded, for I had seen Childs's writing, and this was like it for all the world. It was his, indeed--so Mr. Redfield decided. But how came it in there? When Mr. Redfield opened his letter it had not fallen out. He had cut the end of the envelope. I took the envelope, and rounding it out, peered in, and satisfied myself, from its shape, that the writer had done what I frequently do, with the old-fashioned envelopes especially,--put in a piece of paper to keep the gluten from sticking to the letter, as it will, when wet and sealed, in many kinds of envelopes. In handling the envelope, and opening it a little to put back the contents, this paper, if stuck at all, had "chipped off." But how came the address there in Childs's hand? Either the letter had been written in a poorly-lighted place, or a careless or drunken confederate had slipped the strip we found into the letter, without noting both sides. But really _how_ it came there I did not care--it was there.

"Mr. Redfield," said I, "that clerk's game is up. Give me the letter; ask no questions, but to-morrow morning, as soon as he comes in, make occasion to send him off on business which shall detain him till into the afternoon, if you can; or provide business for him here that shall occupy him beyond noon-time. Better send him out of town. I want to get over to-morrow noon."

Mr. Redfield said that fortunately he could send him out of town to see parties about a mortgage, and he would send somebody along with him,--his servant,--and tell him to be sure to not get in before two or three. The boy will do what I say, and ask no questions and tell no tales. My word is law with him, and Childs will have to walk back twelve miles, or hire somebody to bring him in, for the boy won't come till I tell him to.

Next morning I was up betimes. Childs was out early before going to the office, taking a morning walk with his lady. He carried no bundle away from there, and I tracked him to the office. I felt safe now: and now for the final work, I thought, for I was sure that Redfield would pack off Childs duly, and the coast would be clear. I had gotten possession of the lady's name meanwhile, and proceeded to her boarding-place, called for her, introduced myself, talked with her about literary matters in my own way, not at great length, and was delighted with the innocence of the girl. I had formed no fixed mode of procedure when I entered the house, but I was resolved to wait till I saw her, and the longer I talked with her the more convinced was I that she was innocent and artless, and that a pretty direct way was the best to approach her by.

So I said, "Well, you'll pardon me, Miss ----, but Mr. Childs told me I would be pleased to chat with you, and I have--"

"What! you know Mr. Childs? He's always saying flattering things of me."

"O, is he? Well, perhaps he didn't say anything especial to me, then; but I was going to say that I called on business. He's going out of town to-day, and he had to start earlier than he expected; just gone; wasn't going till afternoon--"

"Yes, he told me he was going over to Covington in the afternoon," she broke in.

"Yes," said I, "and he said that he wanted you to give me _those papers_; said you'd understand what he meant. I am to meet him, and this, he said, would be enough word for you" (handing her the slip of paper, 'My dearest A----.') "He was in haste." She took it, blushed, and said, "Yes, this is his writing. He writes nicely--doesn't he? Excuse me, I will be gone but a moment," and she hied up stairs to her room, as unsuspecting as a dove. I was surprised at the success of my simple stratagem, but I had others behind it, which would have worked had that failed. She came down stairs, bringing a nicely sealed package.

"That is what he wants," said she. "You will be careful of it, of course, or he would not have sent you. You are his friend--a mysterious man I've heard him speak of; and I must tell you," she said, laughing heartily, "that I've told him I did not like that friend very well, keeping him away from me so much."

"O," said I, "no harm I hope. Men have their business arrangements together,--their speculations,--and can't always be as gallant as they would."

"O, I know it," said she. "I don't complain. I was only joking him."

It was evident to me that that woman had not the remotest thought of Childs's being aught than as noble and pure as she; and as I took the package, folded it in a newspaper, and left the house, I felt for her to the bottom of my heart, so much so, that I at first resolved to not tell Redfield how I had obtained the package, but to give him up the papers, tell him to dismiss the clerk, get my pay, and leave; for I thought it would break her heart to find Childs so great a scoundrel; that perhaps he, finding himself foiled, would never be guilty of a crime again; would seek some other spot, reform, and marry her, and make her ever happy.

These thoughts I revolved in my mind as I passed on to my lodgings, and when I got there I opened the package. Lo! all the papers, so far as I could judge, and something more,--a letter or two, in a scrawly hand, with some rude drawings of roads, a sort of diagram, on a page of one of them. I deciphered the letters, and found that Childs's correspondent spoke, in one of them, of that "little fool of yours," evidently meaning Miss A----; and said something else, which I knew he would never have said had not Childs given him occasion. In short, I saw that Childs's respect for her was feigned; that he was only fooling her, and my mind changed towards him; besides, there was his confederate, and we must have them both. I hurriedly repacked the papers, proceeded to the bank, called Mr. Redfield into the private room, and showed him what I had got. He was confounded, of course. I said, "What shall we do with them?"

"Seal them, and put them in the safe for to-day. I want to arrest that villain Childs now," said he, "for I understand how you've come by these. We've no time to lose."

We went out after sealing the papers, and leaving them in the safe, properly marked with my name--a deposit. As soon as we got out of the office we made our plan. It was to take an officer, ride out on the road on which Childs had gone, and wait for his return. But this would take too long. No, we'd ride right to the place he had gone to, all of us. We found the officer, took a two-horse carriage, and were on our way very shortly--drove to where Childs was.

"How do you do, Mr. Redfield?" said Childs, surprised to see him. "Couldn't you trust me to do the business? And so _you've_ come out? Ha! ha!"

"No," said Mr. Redfield; "some friends of mine wanted to take a ride, and I thought I might as well ride this way as any. Getting on well with the business?"

"Yes," said he, "all finished; but I couldn't find that boy of yours. He's gone off somewhere, and there's a part of the harness gone. Gone to get it mended, I suspect, for coming out here he said it was weak in places."

I gave Mr. R---- a wink, and said, quietly, "That boy would make a good operator--wouldn't he?"

"He'll do his duty," said he.

"Well, he won't be back yet," said Mr. Redfield to Mr. Childs. "Get in here, and we'll all take a short ride. Mr. Wilson," said Mr. Redfield, "you proposed to ride on the front seat when we returned; perhaps you'd like to now?"

"Yes, I would," said I.

"Well, please get out, and let Mr. Childs take your place. Mr. Childs, these are Mr. Wilson and Mr. French, friends of mine, looking about Cincinnati for speculation."

I got out, Childs took my seat in back, under the carriage top--a sort of half buggy and half coach. The officer was considerably disguised, (because he thought he knew Childs, and that the latter knew him), with a pair of blue shaded glasses and false grayish whiskers and hair.

We chatted on together, rode off a mile or two, when Mr. Redfield said he guessed we'd return, and leave word at that place for the boy to come as soon as he got his harness mended. "And you can ride back with us, Childs," said Mr. R----.

Childs expressed his pleasure to do so. We returned to the place, left the boy, and proceeded on a mile or two, telling stories, looking at the land, etc., when Mr. Redfield gave me a touch with his elbow, and looked into my eyes, as much as to ask, "Shall we not arrest him now?" I gave the proper sign, and Mr. Redfield, stopping the horses, turned deliberately around, and said, "Mr. French is an officer of the law, Mr. Childs, and would like to have you give yourself up without any fuss about it--wouldn't you, Mr. French? Do your duty."

"Yes, Mr. Childs, I am sorry to disturb the pleasure of such a ride as we've had, but it is my duty to arrest you."

Childs was overcome with surprise, and said, "Yes, he would give himself up, but he didn't know what for--anything to oblige Mr. Redfield," and he gave himself up, and the officer thought best to handcuff him, at which Childs turned very pale, with mingled anger and fright.

"Now, Childs," said Redfield, "since you are secure, and the papers are all back in the safe, and your lady, Miss A----" (for Redfield knew I must have gotten the papers from her in some way), "has turned upon you, you've nothing to do but make a clean breast of it. We want your confederate, and you must help us to take him, or suffer alone. If you wish to escape, you must turn state's evidence--that's all. He probably has put you up to crime. You are not too old to reform, and may be allowed to go, and suffer nothing but the penalty of dismissal from our office; but you'll have to return the money you took, for I find that you are regarded worth considerable property, and I presume your confederate is."

Childs was so utterly taken aback that he had not a particle of courage or address left. He consented to everything we demanded, and said he would write to his friend whom he was to meet at Covington that night, but for some reason he could not come, and ask him to come over at night or next day to Cincinnati. When we got into the city, Childs was taken to a private room by the officer, who had taken off his manacles, and then manacled him again after writing the note, and telling us where to find his messenger.

The man came over, and was under arrest before he had time to think, and was taken to another place, and told that Childs had turned state's evidence.

"I always thought Childs was shaky," said the fellow, evidently not quite so subdued as he might be; but we threatened him with the extreme ends of the law, and he agreed to get money, and see that the bankers were paid back all that had been taken if Childs would do his part, and to clear out "down the river" (meaning to N. O.), and leave Cincinnati together. It appeared that he had done the _work_ of the robbery, Childs having provided him with a key, of which he had procured a counterfeit, and having told him of the changes of the lock, and selected a time when there was a good amount of money in the safe. He said he could "work" better alone than with Childs.

I needn't lengthen out the story, except to say that Mr. Redfield got back all the money too, and enough besides to pay him and me for all our trouble; that Childs and his friend left for parts unknown, for Mr. Redfield said it would hurt his bank, shake faith in it so much, to prosecute the rascals, and expose the affair, or it would gratify him otherwise to punish them: on the whole he would let them go.

I took care that Childs had no opportunity to see Miss A---- before his departure, or even to write her, I think; and as I spent two or three days more in Cincinnati, I thought, on reflection, she ought to know the facts, and in a delicate way got opportunity to disclose them to her, for which the innocent, sensible lady expressed her gratitude in tears. She felt that she had escaped a villain's clutches; confessed her ardent love for him, but told me that sometimes she felt as if there was something bad in his nature; that he had given her much pain from time to time; and though they were engaged, she sometimes had thought he did not intend to marry; and now she could see that he had, at times, taken advantage of her love to require her to do things for him quite disagreeable.

"Why," she exclaimed, "if I had known that package contained stolen things, I could not have slept in the room with it. He said they were private business papers of his, and he did not wish to ask to have them put in the bank safe, and thought they would be more secure with me than at his rooms, for everybody could get in there in his absence who liked; so I was glad to oblige him, of course."

But my conversation with this lady need not be detailed. She was not informed how the slip, with "My dearest A----" on it, came into my hands. Probably it did not then occur to her to ask. If her eye happens to light on this article, she will now come at last to know how.

THE THOUSAND DOLLAR LESSON.

CHARLES PURVIS: TAKING HIM IN CHARGE AT A DISTANCE--HANGERS ON AT THE ST. NICHOLAS AND OTHER HOTEL ENTRANCES--A COLLOQUY, SPICED WITH REMINISCENCES OF "OLD SAM COLT," OF THE "REVOLVER," IN HIS GAY DAYS; A PARTY AT THE "OLD CITY HOTEL," HARTFORD, CONN., AND OTHER THINGS--TRINITY COLLEGE BOYS--"GEORGE ELLSWORTH"--PURVIS AND HE START ON A WALK--"WHERE CAN THEY BE GOING?"--GOING TO SEE ELLSWORTH'S "FRIEND"--AN EXCHANGE OF COATS--A SURVEY TAKEN--A FIRST-CLASS GAMBLING SALOON--A NEW MAN IN THE GAME--PURVIS DRUGGED--HIS "FRIENDS" TAKE HIM "HOME," BUT WHERE?--PURVIS IS RETURNED TO HIS HOTEL IN A STATE OF STUPEFACTION; IS AROUSED; MISSES A THOUSAND DOLLARS--PLANS LAID TO CATCH HIS LATE FRIENDS--WILLIAMS FOUND BY ACCIDENT, AND QUIETLY CAGED--THE OLD IRISH WOMAN'S APPEAL--WILLIAMS "EXPLAINS," AFTER PROPER INDUCEMENT--MOST OF THE MONEY RECOVERED--SUPPLEMENTS.

I had just returned from a trip to Detroit, and failing to find my chief partner in town, strolled up to the St. Nicholas Hotel one night, in July, 1863, and while sauntering about there, came across a gentleman whom I had, a few days before, remarked in the cars, on the Shore Line Road. He got on board at Painesville, Ohio, and by sundry peculiarities of his dress, which was a particle "flashy," but still neat and elegant, he attracted my attention. I was at a loss where to place, or how to classify him. Sometimes I took him for a merchant, then I thought he might be a lawyer, and again a young man of wealth and leisure. Suffice it, I allowed myself to study him--I know not why--so much that I was not likely to forget him.

Among the first persons I chanced to come across that day at the St. Nicholas, was this young man, and curiosity led me to learn from the bookkeeper his name, which I found to be Charles Purvis, of Louisville, Kentucky.

"Purvis?" I said to myself, "Purvis? The name is familiar, but where have I known anybody bearing it?" and so I cudgelled my brains to awaken memory, and at last called to mind a story told me by a brother detective, in my way, on a time, up the Mississippi River, in which the name of "Purvis" figured largely in a criminal transaction. "Perhaps," thought I, "this is the chap in question," and as I had nothing on hand to do for a day or two, I thought I would take the young gentleman in my charge--at a distance.